A/N: Hello Everyone! Here is Part 2 to this little mini series! I hope you guys enjoy because I had a lot of fun writing this! I sincerely apologize if it feels like the ending ends too quickly.. I was just so excited to get it out for you guys. So without further ado lets jump right in~ As always the characters do not belong to me.
Read Part 1 here. This is Part 2.
Crossing the threshold between room and corridor sent a new wave of restlessness down Nesta’s spine. The reaction spread through her limbs leaving behind skin hypersensitive to any form of touch. This immediately caused her to be fully aware of the fabric hugging her curves and skimming against the length of her legs. This also caused her to wince once a summer breeze from the garden brushed her long locks aside in effort to cool the heated skin.
However, the slender fingers wrapped around Nesta’s settled every surging emotion into an immediate halt. It was at times like this where her mind would pool with unnecessary concerns and harbor toxic emotions. She was an over thinker engrossed with worst case scenarios and solutions to escape them. But today wouldn’t give Nesta a reason to think upon unfavorable outcomes and how to avoid them. No, Nesta would quiet her mind and push aside her pessimistic qualities, for today would be one of the happiest. Certainly, no escape plan or solution was necessary.
With an inhale and slight shake of her head she took in her surroundings desperate to find something to focus on. It was a pathetic attempt to calm the inescapable nerves but worked better than expected.
While Feyre locked the door from behind Nesta took in the burning crimson light, indicating the descent of the sun. Each red glare shone from beyond the garden into the corridor finding a place to settle upon the walls and floor.
The corridor in fact was lined only with ancient stone. Some were fractured, others pristine but nearly all of them were covered with greenery. Taking a closer look the rock was decorated with thick grape vines. Each vine tangled and clung to the stone forming intricate patterns and swirls almost like Illyrian tattoos. A smile grew at the thought.
Down below upon the floor rested candles sitting inside white lanterns. Scents such as lavender and jasmine swirled into the air hoping to please any nose strolling through. It definitely pleased hers.
With a tug from Feyre, Nesta begun to take her first steps towards the end. With each motion Nesta felt the pull of the gown’s short train against the ground. Her mind however was too preoccupied on the nearing view of the garden to notice.
As each second passed Nesta begun to gather pieces of information as they slowly revealed themselves to her. She still couldn’t see beyond the decent of the path outside the corridor no matter how much her eyes strained. But, she could grasp how the sky blended from multiple colors such as red, orange, and pink. The sight was something Nesta always envisioned Feyre painting.
Glancing over to her sister she could see it too. She could feel just how much Feyre longed to return to her paint brushes. To press colors onto a blank canvas until all time is lost.
Nesta gave a reasuring squeeze with her fingers just as a voice called from behind.
The two glanced over their shoulders to find their youngest sibling parading down the hallway nearing them. With each stride the same grey dress she wore—twin to Feyre’s—swayed carefully against her. Occupying both her hands were three bundles of bouquets. Two out of the three bundles were multiple white flowers consisting of lilacs and white hydrangeas. The other bundle, slightly different from the other two consisted of the same white flowers but also contained baby’s breath, eucalyptus greenery and red carnation flowers. The pop in color honored seven red siphons which Nesta knew all too well.
A huge smile was plastered on Elain’s face. It was almost contagious as Nesta felt a tug upon both corners of her own lips. Giving into the urge Nesta grasped the bouquet with red carnations, testing the weight. Alongside her Feyre did the same and proceeded to break their intertwined fingers only to loop her arm through Nesta’s. Not a moment later Elain did the same on Nesta’s left mirroring the High Lady.
“Ready?” Her voice barely came out as an audible whisper. It seemed as though she was more anxious than Nesta.
“Yes,” Nesta spoke without hesitation after the moment of silence. “I always will be.”
With that the three continued to close the distance towards the entry into the gardens. Each of their dresses rustled with the distant sound of footwear tapping against the floor. Several golden brown waves tumbling down around them all swung with the breeze and it was evident how stunning they looked together.
It wasn’t long until the three women reached the stone arch overlooking a path down. The same path of stone lined with candles led down to an area where everyone was located. At the end of the walkway stood a wooden arch dressed with flowers, vines, and leaves. There were even candles hanging from it. Each of their flames danced with the wind in celebration and danced in excitement towards the lingering power beneath Nesta’s skin.
However, the true spectacle was the view from beyond the arch. Just ahead of the gathering below laid the full sight of the mountain range which Nesta received a glimpse of before. The mountains were so tall that the peaks disappeared past several lingering clouds surrounding them. It made her feel so small. Smaller than ever before but oddly safe as well.
Several pairs of eyes finally laid themselves onto the sisters whilst they walked down. Each of them held their chin high and posture straight as a dagger.
From the corner of Nesta’s grey eyes she could spot Mor and Amren standing to the arch’s left. On the right stood Rhysand and Azreil.
Mor donned a simple and elegant silver gown. It didn’t show as much skin as Nesta expected but the dress flattered Mor nonetheless. Sometimes she didn’t need to display skin to show how beautiful she was. She was stunning not only in physical appearance but in personality and character as well. Though Nesta and Mor shared a rough introduction with one another they got along with time. These past few years were proof of that.
Standing a few feet beside her was Amren. Amren out of everyone remained the most subtle. The silver gown she wore rested upon the curve of her shoulders and seemed to feel snug against her muscular form. The jet black hair was sharp as ever, barely reaching the skin of her collarbone. Nesta realized she begun to stare once Amren’s eyes flickered up to hers. The usual smoke curling within wasn’t there anymore due to the war years ago. No matter how long its been, Nesta missed the mysterious nature behind them and how they could scare even the most feral creatures. But Amren still had that effect on people and fae.
The two men opposite from the women all wore their own variation of a tunic.
Rhysand out of three wore an all black tunic with silver accents and minimal designs. For extra dramatic flare he wore a very noticeable black cape currently billowing in the background with the wind. His stance was formal and that of a worthy High Lord. His arms were sneakily crossed behind his back and once Nesta set her eyes on him he didn’t flash his troublesome smirk or usual wink. He instead dipped his head low almost in a bow eyes on hers the entire time. It was a sign of respect, one that doesn’t happen often.
Azriel wore something similar but donned pieces of his royal armor as well. Sometimes you could never be too careful no matter how much peace has spread. A lesson they all learned too well was that everyone could still have a target on their back.
He looked handsome as his shaggy hair was groomed and smoothed to the side. Those hazel eyes were looking at one person and one person only, Elain. If Nesta didn’t know any better she noticed Elain glancing right back.
Then, the final pair of eyes caught hers. The hazel within burned into molten gold as they swept up and down her body. She could see his thoughts clearly written all over his face. He didn’t need to say it aloud for her to know how stunning he thought she looked.
She could imagine her expressions showed the same. If only the sight of him didn’t prompt such a reaction out of her. She felt like a young teenage girl laying eyes on her first crush. Though in reality she wouldn’t have it any other way right now. No matter how old he was he couldn’t contain his excitement either.
Cassian stood slightly right of the wooden arch’s center waiting for her to close the remaining gap between them.
Taking him in fully his hair was evenly trimmed and groomed for the special occasion. He too, like Azriel wore a black tunic with hints of armor locked onto his broad shoulders, waist, and shins. His wings behind extended out ruffling a bit until comfortably settling themselves together. The scars a lighter shade than the membrane widened. The same scars that soon became a symbol not only to Cassian but to his enemies as well. They represent how he escaped death on more than one occasion. It was even a miracle that his wings were fully functioning after what seemed irreparable.
The seconds to the end arrived quicker than expected. Turns out staring at Cassian made time pass rapidly. As the thought formed Nesta almost heard the deep chuckle in the back of her mind.
The sisters all paused together. They all glanced at one another and squeezed each others fingers. Elain and Feyre took a step back watching Nesta mount the steps up. It was time they handed her off the the male ahead. Just how their father wanted.
Cassian extended his hand towards Nesta who skillfully walked up the stairs without stepping on her train. She slid her hand into his allowing him to pull her up slightly.
Having him beside her was dream. She couldn’t picture anyone else sharing this moment with her. She couldn’t picture anyone else whom would stand beside her as a friend, a lover, and most importantly an equal.
The priestess soon approached the two who were so wrapped up within each other. Her white smile beamed sensing the years worth of history between them. Without wasting a second more she spoke.
“Welcome all.” Her hands gestured to the Inner Circle below. “I’m pleased to initiate the joining of two incredibly diverse people. One born fae and one born human turned into fae by the cauldron itself.”
The priestess shifted her gaze towards Cassian. The navy blue cloak she wore became stark against her jet black hair. It rustled each time she moved.
“Today marks a special day within both your lives,” the priestess continued projecting her voice beyond to everyone.
However, no matter how much Nesta tried to focus on the woman’s words she yet again became lost within Cassian’s presence. She wasn’t the only guilty one though. He seemed just as wrapped up within Nesta as she was with him. Their smiles and longing looks practically gave them away.
After a few minutes the priestess cleared her throat while lifting her hands towards Nesta’s and Cassian’s. The pair gave their respective palms to the priestess for her to only place them on top one another. She then wrapped a piece of red string around their hands tying it into a small bow. After finishing she placed her own hand perpendicular to theirs.
“Cassian, General of the Night Court, Lord of Bloodshed, and fellow Illyrian. Will you promise to uphold your promises to Nesta? Will you promise to stand by her no matter the situation? To protect and support? To love and forgive? To be equals, friends, lovers, and family?” She questioned.
Cassian looked to Nesta, he squeezed her hand as a small smile formed. Those eyes were filled with such genuine emotion that it made her wonder. Wonder about how she possibly found someone such as himself. How did she get lucky enough to find a person who accepts her flaws? The powers lurking underneath should send anyone running for the hills but his feet are firmly planted and they never plan on moving.
“I promise,” he spoke looking at her while doing so.
In response her traitorous heart resumed its thunderous beating. Hearing those two words escape him sent her over the edge. She never thought she would hear them, especially directed at her. But here he was promising a life of pain, laughter, friendship, commitment, fear, and love. He promised to share his life with her as husband and as mate.
“Nesta Archeon, Emissary of the Night Court, savior of the lands, and Cauldron born. Do you promise the same? Promise to respect his decisions? Promise to be faithful and loyal? Promise to suffer and laugh through the hard choices in life? Promise to love him until the very end?”
Now it was her turn. For once in her short life she never felt more certain. Without a second thought her words came out before she could even think of it. “I promise.”
The priestess grinned while lifting her hand from Nesta’s and Cassian’s. She loosened the red string tied around their hands and let it fall to the floor. Both Cassian and Nesta glanced down at their fingers.
Cassian’s hand which covered Nesta’s was tattooed. It was similar to Feyre’s tattoo when she became High Lady and made the bargain with Rhysand. This symbolized as a bargain of their own, but more importantly as a promise to each other.
His fingers had a similar pattern of swirls and dips just as the tattoo upon his chest had. There were even little details of moon phases, stars, and solid lines wrapping around his ring finger. It represented his story, the Night Court, and his mate. It made Nesta all the more eager to peak below his hand towards her own.
As he lifted his hand from hers swiftly placing it under palm up she finally saw her own tattoo. Her fingers and palm were covered in designs of its own nature which complimented Cassian’s. Moon phases also wrapped around her ring finger like a wedding band with two solid lines. Swirls stretched from her fingertips blending into her wrists. It was beautiful, truly beautiful.
“I’m elated to announce you both husband and wife. May the stars guide you,” the priestess bowed and completely overlooked Cassian pulling his wife into his embrace. Nesta clung to him not willing to let him go as he held the base of her head and waist. She never felt safer, never felt happier.
Her fingers curled into his now wrinkled tunic pulling him down into a searing kiss. During the exchange she laughed not getting enough of him and how he kept calling her his wife.
“I love you,” he whispered holding either side of her cheeks.
She pressed her forehead to his completely forgetting about those who were watching and mumbled through her watery eyes, “I love you too.”