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Nesta's head was pounding. It was all she could think about. Even as she walked next to her sisters on an airport about to get one of them married. Her youngest sister, Feyre, was getting married to a rich Scotsman named Rhysand.
"Nesta!" Feyre snapped, "Hand her our tickets!"
Nesta blinked and looked from Elain to Feyre before fishing the tickets out of her purse. Feyre rolled her eyes as she plucked them from her hands.
"Really, Nesta," Elain said with little heat in her voice, "You need to pay more attention."
Feyre turned back to them and practically sneered, "She needs to stop being a drunk."
Nesta thought nothing of it as they continued walking, into the plane, then into their seats. It wasn't like she hadn't said it a thousand times before. Nesta barely heard their sighs as she buckled up and immediately asked the stewardess for a drink. Two drinks later and she was asleep, so she wasn't really thinking about anything.
----
The thing they never said about war before she signed up, is that it brings out the monsters deep inside that people normally hide. Sure, Hitler was the bad guy, but if he was the only one he wouldn't have gotten anywhere. He wasn't the mastermind of every minute horror that had happened during the last few years. They don't tell you that sometimes monsters are on our side, too.
She'd met Tomas Mandray the second day on the job. France had been a big episenter for those days so just about everyone was walking around. He was a higher ranking soldier, also American, he'd seemed so nice, so helpful…
Until one day he didn't.
----
She woke to Feyre slapping her on the cheek. "Wake up." She said harshly, "We're here."
The bright light she got in her eyes when she opened them felt like daggers. She blinked a couple times, then pulled herself up. She didn't really have anything to say to Feyre, so she didn't say anything. She never really had much to say to anyone these days.
"It's still an hour away by car," Feyre reminded them sternly, "Look alive, both of you."
It was Nesta's turn to roll her eyes. The air of superiority that came from Feyre would only get worse now that she was going to be wife to one of the richest men in the UK. She bet her husband-to-be had the same attitude. She bet this man already hated her with every fiber of his being, just like Feyre. She wondered for a second if he imagined her with a forked tongue, like a proper witch.
Perhaps she was a witch, but she did her best to smile and be pleasant. By the way Rhysand had greeted her, she knew her assumption to be correct. It was fine, though, now she didn't really have to put in the effort. Plus, it was only for 10 days, she'd been through far worse before.
Her sister’s betrothed was exactly the kind of guy she thought he would be, a know it all hot shot that thinks he is so much better than everyone else. He was currently going over all the landmarks and history.
“Nesta, did you know…”
“Yes,” she interrupted, before he could get anything else out, “I know. I have a degree in Gaelic from Harvard. There’s literally nothing you could tell me that I don’t already know.”
“Oh, Feyre hadn’t mentioned that,”
Nesta snorted, “I’m sure she had other things on her mind while she was talking to you. No need to bother with me during your little trivia session, I’m all caught up, thanks.”
He continued going on the entire ride talking about the most basic history and culture. She knew exactly when they broached onto what would have been his land had he been a Laird in the good old days, she was surprised he didn’t point it out. And he’d only mentioned how powerful and feared his clan had been once. She would have thought he’d take more pride in it, considering how big his clan had been back in the day.
A war clan that stood with Robert the Bruce from the beginning. Hell, she’d never admit it but, even she was impressed, especially considering that they somehow were able to get rich again. Of course, she would never say anything to him. But now she wondered if he was wondering if she knew his clan’s history.
“Did you know about the standing rocks on my property?” Rhysand asked. It took her a second to realize he was talking to him.
She snorted again, “Yes, I know about the fairy hill on the Nyx clan land. Back in the day they used to say it helped them win battles.”
Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe it did. No one has been up there in ages, though. Maybe you’d like to go up there and take a close up look.”
Nesta considered this, “I think I’d like that, I’ll consider it.”
…
“I can’t believe I’m getting married tomorrow!” Was the shout that woke her up to the next day.
“You can’t believe it? It’s all you've been talking about since you got back.” Nesta mumbled as she covered her face with her covers. Her head was pounding as usual, this time courtesy of one of the many bottles of scotch that were purchased for the wedding. That had been easier than going out to find a pub. She’d do that tonight when Feyre and Rhysand’s antics became unbearable. Maybe find herself a nice Scot to show her a good time.
Feyre jumped on her bed, “Stop being my wedding grinch! I’m getting married tomorrow!”
“Yes, I know. Elain and I flew to Scotland for it. We’re all very excited. Now let me sleep.”
“You can’t sleep.” Elain said, walking into the room, “We have so much to do! Plus, you’re helping me with the flower arrangements.”
“Kill me now,” she mumbled, being pulled out of bed by her sisters.
…
The day had been horrible. First and foremost, it was so very very cold. Feyre had, of course, insisted on a winter wedding, because why make things more pleasant for everyone else when you could force them all to almost freeze to death? Her dress, for example, was not enough for a Highland winter and the wedding was supposed to be outside. Not to mention the hell it had been to even be fitted for that horrible dress. That damn seamstress just kept clicking at her, complaining about how much shorter she was than Feyre, how much bonier she was than Feyre and “aye, lass, ye’ve got a chest on ye.” What was that even supposed to mean? What was she supposed to do? Apologize? It wasn’t her fault to begin with.
At least doing the flower arrangements had been mind numbingly boring and Elain hadn’t been paying much attention to her. She’d kept herself well lubricated during the entire process.
And now she could just sit at this pub, drink as much as she liked and choose one of the many men that were going to hit on her.
…
Someone was knocking. Very insistently. Nesta slowly opened her eyes, feeling a little bit of sun filtering in from the curtains. "Nesta!" She heard her sister scream, "Nesta, open this door right now."
Nesta moved but found herself weighed down by an arm. She looked behind her as she swatted the arm away. Another redhead. Two in two days. Interesting. She'd never considered herself a redhead lover, but she must be, she thought as she walked to the door and opened it.
Feyre was furious. It was clear from the look in her eyes, "I cannot believe you." She seethed, looking over Nesta's shoulder at the man that was just waking up on her bed.
"What?" She mumbled.
"What?" Feyre shrieked, "You leave my wedding as soon as possible, disappear only for me to hear from several guests that you were hobbling around, drunk off your ass and now here you are. Waking up next to one of Rhys's cousin's. I can't Nesta. I cannot. You have to leave. Leave!"
"What? You're kicking me out?" Nesta shouted back.
"Yes! You have to go! You have to leave now!" Feyre screamed.
"I have nowhere to go," Nesta growled.
"I don't care. I want you gone. You're not welcome here."
Nesta stopped, looked at her sister, then… laughed. A huge giant enjoyable laugh, "Of course, your majesty. I'll leave. As soon as I pay homage to my fellow witches up on the hill. I'll be gone by nightfall."
"I don't care what you do, I just never want to see you again." With that Feyre walked away, not once looking back.
If that's what she wanted, Nesta could oblige. Never see her again? No problem.
Nesta hadn't been kidding when she said she was going up the hill. She'd been interested in it since Rhysand had pointed it out and now she felt like she had to, as a send off. She went over her clothes, found the longest skirt she had and put that on. Maybe she was trying to feel like an old timey lady, walking up the hill to gain perspective. Whatever the reason that's what she chose. A nice conservative blue dress. It felt right.
It had been a shame she and… she really could not recall his name… the redheaded man had gotten too tired before she’d gotten to the top of the hill. She was actually still a little bit surprised she had woken up in her bed and not on the grassy hill.
The hill was pretty steep. Steep enough that you couldn’t see the rocks on top of them at all. Strange little phenomena, those rocks. No one really knows why the hell they were up there, no one knew why there were so many scattered around the UK and France. People would probably wonder about it for the rest of time. Why did they mark those specific locations? How did they get the rocks up there. No one would ever know for sure and Nesta was inspired by it. To be so mysterious and pondered, yet never know.
She whistled when she crested the hill and got her first look at them. Those damn rocks were huge. Then all she could do was bark up a laugh. After all that studying, after all the sleepless nights going over and over Gaelic culture, she was in Scotland, she was standing in front of standing stones. It was like something out of a book and yet it was real.
By then, she couldn’t help herself, she started running, straight to the biggest rock, right in the middle. She didn’t even know what she was going to do but she knew exactly which one she really wanted. It was like the rock was singing to her, telling her what it felt. It was like being a part of the rock, she could feel what it was like to be so large and imposing, so full of purpose… the keeper of some secret. A secret she intended to find out.
And there she was. In front of the biggest rock she’d ever seen. She paused for a moment, looked around her. She could still feel the rock and she wanted to know. She needed to know. Right then.
Slowly, she raised her right hand, took a breath and touched the very middle of the rock.
…
Nesta had seen more bombs explode than she could ever count, the place where she had been stationed hadn’t been kind, but she’d never been close enough to actually feel it. Well, this was what she imagined it felt like. It was pure chaos, there was no up, no down and while nothing hurt, nothing felt real.
…
Nesta woke again to a deep masculine voice saying something she couldn’t make out. Nesta slowly opened her eyes and to her surprise, was met by the most handsome face she’d ever seen.