Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nesta knew what she was doing when she drew that line in the sand.

She was exhausted. A week living in the coldest, most terrifying woods she had ever been in. It was nothing, nothing compared to anything she had experienced before.

She would never forget the moment of pure terror from waking up, realizing where she was, and more importantly, realizing her friends were not with her. That her friends were alone.

And then, more terror, when she realized one of the friends was on the brink of death when Nesta found her. Seeing Emerie so… lifeless among the rocks, had shaken Nesta to her core. The last time she had been so terrified…

She didn’t want to think about it.

And then Gwyn… Nesta was worried from the moment they woke up about her. Gwyn, who was kind and brave, and who had survived terrors worse than what most of those Illyrians could even imagine. Gwyn, who had only left the library once… to go help Nesta. And because of that, she had been dragged into the Blood Rite.

When Gwyn was brave enough to look at the mountain and decide to climb, even though they were exhausted and injured and starving and freezing, pride had welled inside Nesta. More pride than she could imagine.

She and her friends climbed the mountain. And they made it to Enalius Pass. Now, Nesta would make sure they made it to the top. Nesta would hold back Bellius, and Gwyn and Emerie would make it to the top. They would touch the stones. And all of this, all of it, would be over.

Nesta was prepared. Even if “all of it” included dying.

Every inch of her body burned and ached. With exhaustion, with her wounds, with the knowledge that behind that line she’d drawn in the dirt, through the archway at her back, Gwyn and Emerie were still breathing, still climbing that final piece of the Breaking to the summit.

So she’d killed the Illyrian males who squeezed through those jagged rocks. Who believed they’d find an untrained, helpless female and found death waiting for them before the archway.
Only one remained.

A glance over her shoulder showed Emerie still scaling the last of the summit, so slow, but so close. Dawn neared, but … they could make it.

Nesta again faced the archway. Knew who she’d find.

Bellius leaned against a boulder, sword in hand, shield dangling from the other. “Impressive work for a High Fae whore.”
But, Nesta grinned. Behind her, Gwyn and Emerie had touched the sacred stone and been winnowed away by its magic.

---

Emerie and Gwyn collapsed on the ground in front of the entire Illyrian camp. Gasps rang throughout.

Gwyn was still unconscious, and Emerie was shaking. From exhaustion, from the cold, from the fear that her friend was more hurt than she realized.

People surrounded them in an instant, to the point when Emeri shrunk down into herself, hiding Gwyn underneath her.

The crowd swarmed back, but a few remained. Someone crouched in front of her.

“Hey,” they said gently. “We are going to help Gwyn, okay?”

Emerie didn’t realize until she was off of Gwyn that gentle hands were moving her off of her.

Emerie glanced to the side and saw a healer and Azriel and Feyre with Gwyn. She was in good hands.

Rhysand was the one crouched in front of her, she realized slowly. He had a soft, kind smile on his face.

“You made to the top,” he said. He was speaking softly, like he knew anything more would stress her out, and send her over the mental wall she’d built over the past week. “Congratulations.”

Panic swelled in Emerie’s chest as she realized what was happening. She and Gwyn made it out, but Nesta–

“Nesta!” Emerie’s fear flooded her face as she stared at Rhys.

His eyes darkened.

“You have to go! You have to go help her! She’s alone, she’s alone,” Emerie sobbed.

Rhys was on his feet in seconds. He nodded to her, and moments later, he was gone.

Emeri collapsed, letting her head fall to the ground. A healer ran to her, but that’s all she saw before she fell unconscious.

--------------

Emerie and Gwyn had won. They’d made it through the Breaking. It was enough.
Nesta only had to hold this asshole off for a few more minutes—until dawn. Then it’d be over. Her power would return, and she could … Nesta didn’t know what she’d do. But at least she’d have that weapon.

Bellius lunged, swifter and surer than the others. Nesta barely had time to lift her shield. The impact shook her to her bones, but he was already pivoting, his own shield swinging for her face— She twirled out of range.

Gods, she was tired. So, so tired, and—

He didn’t stop. Didn’t give her a moment’s reprieve as he attacked, parrying and thrusting, driving her back toward the line, the archway. Hatred burning in his face.

The snow thickened, the wind howled, and the sky rumbled. Bellius struck again, and Nesta lifted her shield, meeting the blow. She felt her arm shatter, a howl of pain forcing its way out of her. Her shield clattered onto a stone nearby. The sword in her hand fell too– wrenched from her grasp from the pain seizing up her arm.

A storm had swept around the mountain, veiling the moon, the stars. Only the lightning arcing across the sky provided illumination to Bellius’s onslaught.

But the snow slickened the stones, the dirt, and as lightning flashed across the sky again, blinding them both, he thought faster. Acted faster.

Nesta dodged assault after assault, even with her shattered arm causing searing pain, but not fast enough to avoid the precise slices Bellius landed to her arms, her legs, her face. She slowed, her feet sliding on the slippery mountainside as the thunder-snow raged.

Another blow and her feet left the ground. The breath slammed out of her as her spine hit something unyielding. A boulder.

Nesta’s body refused to move as she panted. Warm blood trickled out of her. She was done. This was the end.

Blood flowed from her mouth, her nose. But Nesta smiled anyway, its tang coating her tongue. Because no matter what– no matter what– her friends had made it. Her friends were safe.

Bellius slammed his fist into Nesta’s jaw, so hard she rocked back a few steps.

Wearing her down. Outlasting her.
She’d keep going. She scrambled up, barely keeping her footing. Until the end, she’d fight him.

Bellius’s fist connected with her left cheek. Pain cracked through her. Time slowed. She landed on the other side of the line in the earth and could have sworn the mountain shuddered.

Nesta crawled. She didn’t care how pathetic it made her appear. She crawled away from Bellius, through the arch, destroying the line she’d drawn.

He advanced, bloodied and sneering. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

She’d claimed it would be fine to die for her friends, that it was fine because they had made it, they had won, but to be killed by this nobody—

Nesta snarled. She had nothing left. Her body had given up on her. Like so many others had. Her head was spinning. She could barely even see Bellius. Could barely comprehend anymore what was happening.

All she knew was that she was alone.

She was alone.

She had been born alone, and would die alone, and this awful male would be the one to kill her—

Thunder cracked, and the entire mountain shook with its impact. Bellius would kill her any moment now. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel. She was ready.

Blood sprayed.

At first, she thought it was lightning that flashed across his throat, opening it so wide that his blood showered the snowy air.

But then she saw the wings. The other set of wings.

Through hazy eyes that were now swimming, making the world look like it was spinning in circles, she saw Bellius fall to the ground. At some point, she must’ve too.

The world was sideways. She watched lazily as a pair of shoes sprinted toward her. If she had any more fight in her, she would have flinched back, would’ve prepared to take whoever it was on. But, no. She just stared.

Alone.

She was alone.

Everyone had given up on her– she was sure of it.

Nesta, she heard. Was it in her mind? It sounded like an echo.

Nesta.

There it was again.

She was scared. Why was someone talking to her? Wasn’t she dead already?

Someone had scooped her up into their lap.

Nesta.

Her eyes floated up and up and up, slowly and slowly reaching the stranger holding her.

She knew him. He wasn’t a stranger at all, no–

NESTA!

She snapped into focus, and she sucked in a breath quickly, terror flowing through her as she came back into full consciousness. She couldn’t make out what was going on.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Rhysand.

That’s who was holding her. Her new brother. Her new brother, who hated her guts. This couldn’t be right. It didn’t make any sense.

Nesta was shaking.

“Just breathe, Nesta. You’re alright.”

Her thoughts continued to float.

She choked on her own blood as she managed out, “Cassian.”

“He’s coming,” Rhys answered. “He’s coming. Come on, Nesta, breathe.”

It was a simple enough request. Easy to focus on, and so she did. In and out. Just as she had learned while doing her Mind Stilling.

In and out.

“Good, good.” Rhy’s voice faded out as she heard him say, “Thank the Mother, Mor, help.”

Then, another pair of hands reached for her. This time, she did flinch back.

“It’s just Mor,” Rhys supplied. “It’s okay. She’s going to help.”

“Cassian,” was all Nesta rasped out.

“He’s coming,” Rhys confirmed again.

Mor got to work, doing whatever she could to just keep Nesta alive.

Nesta felt a cool touch enter her head. Her shields were down– they were wide open. Nesta didn’t have the will to care as Rhys slid in. He must’ve done something though because suddenly everything didn’t hurt so much. She was further away from her body, but it didn’t pain her.

In here, she showed Rhysand everything. The entirety of the Blood Rite. Nesta assumed he saw and felt everything that she went through this past week. A kind, calming, cool darkness spread further into her mind, and she felt, for the first time all week, like she could relax.

She was no longer aware of her body. But she was safe. Her brother was here, and he was going to take care of her until her mate arrived. She was safe.

And with that thought, she let the cool darkness dig deeper until she was entirely unconscious.

--------

“She held him off so they could reach the top.”
“The fact that they even made it to the mountain-”
“I was wrong about her. So wrong.”

Words started to float around Nesta. Words about her, she quickly realized.

And then she felt it, the hand in hers. She could sense others in the room too. The source of the voices.

She groaned, and the hand in hers tightened.

“Nesta?” it asked gently.

Cassian.

She peeled her eyes open, just for him. Just so she could see him and know that he’s real and safe and with her.

She was no longer alone.

She tried to smile.

“Hey,” he said, tears welling in his eyes as he smiled at her. “There’s my Valkyrie.”

Her eyes floated around the room. Mor, Azriel, Amren and Rhysand stood along the wall at the end of her bed. And to her left–

“Nesta,” Feyre breathed out in relief. Elain was holding Nesta’s other hand.

Nesta looked to them. “Emerie? Gwyn?”

Feyre smiled. “Safe. Resting.”

She nodded as best she could, thankful for the succinct answer.

She turned back to Cassian.

“Hi,” she rasped out, and his smile grew.

A couple of chuckles sounded around the room.

“You gave us all quite the scare you know,” Amren said.

Nesta’s head followed the voice. Amren was next to Rhysand. Her eyes lazily trailed to him and he smiled.

Thank you. She pushed through to his mind.

Don’t mention it. It’s what brothers are for.

Nesta’s head still hurt. Everything was in slow motion. Her eyes found Cassian again.

“I’m tired,” she managed to say.

“Rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

And Nesta knew he was telling the truth. One more glance around the room and she knew was no longer alone. She was safe, with family and friends.

She was no longer alone.