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As far as graves went it was a nice one. Not as nice as their mother’s grave had been but Nesta supposed that one had been destroyed in the war. Or at least it had been left to fall to ruin during their years of poverty. It was simple, beautifully carved and standing tall on the hill overlooking the city but heavily decorated. Feyre had painted stars and flames and flowers on the stone while bouquets and garlands of fresh flowers stung along the arch of the marker courtesy of Elain. Her sisters came up to pay respects to their father often. Nesta had never been able to bring herself here unless Feyre planned a “family trip”
There was nothing on the grave from her. Something she was sure did not go unnoticed by her sisters as Elain placed more flowers at its base. Clearing out the ones that had died since their last visit. Feyre had left Nyx at home, as a toddler coming to the hill to stare at a stone was deemed too boring and the reasoning for the visit was something Feyre had wanted to keep from her young child.
An airing out of grievances her youngest sister had called it. Even promised to keep Rhys out of her mind for the conversation though Nesta wasn’t sure she truly believed that. And wasn’t that more proof that they did need to have this conversation. Either she resented her sisters too much to believe them, or Feyre had done too much to be considered trustworthy. Either way it proved that things were fractured.
To make herself useful Nesta spread out the blanket Elian had brought while her sisters paid their respects. A basket of food sat on one of the rock outcroppings. The smells coming from the bundled-up food would be delicious but the knot in Nesta’s stomach turned at the thought of keeping anything down.
The view from the hill Feyre had chosen for their father’s finally resting place was beautiful, you could see all Velaris stretching out along the valley. The sounds of the city didn’t reach up here. Just rolling clouds and the vast blue sky until it blurred with the mountain peaks on the horizon. It was quiet, peaceful in a way that helped Nesta breathe. If not for the grave marker behind her she would have spent more time up here.
“Did you want to say something to father, Nesta?” Nesta looked over her shoulder to see both of her sisters walking back over towards her. Feyre met her sister’s eyes taking in the indifference on her face. She knew that Nesta rarely spoke with their father during their visits.
“No.” Nesta moved to make room for them on the blanket while Elian started removing containers of pasta, chicken, and roasted vegetables. She had to admit that Elian had come a long way in her culinary pursuits.
The sigh the left her youngest sister was a blatant sign that she was about to spring into a lecture about what Nesta should be doing. About how she wasn’t fitting into the mold of an older sister that Feyre kept trying to push her into. “Nesta..”
“Feyre…” Elian cut their sister off with a firm voice and a plate of food shoved into her hands.
“Sorry. Sorry I know that’s why we are here.” For what it was worth she did sound sorry.
The conversation none of them seemed to want to have had started by Feyre pushing the topic of Nesta and Cassian having kids now that they had gone through with the mating ceremony.
“Nyx could have someone to play with and I’m sure Cassian wants kids.”
“Of course, because everything about my life is what Cassian wants and what will make you happy. Mother forbid I want a choice in my life.”
She shouldn’t have said anything. She wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t been so exhausted from training and work in the library and Cassian coming home the night before after being in Illyria for two weeks. But she had and despite the magic of the world Nesta did not have the ability to take back the things she said.
Feyre looked shocked then heartbroken. Nesta had been prepared for Rhys to come storming into the sitting room. But it had been Elian, quiet but firm Elian, who had decided that they needed to talk. To air out everything because clearly there were grudges being held and she did not want to go back to the way things had been that year after the war.
The long-standing silent agreement Feyre and Nesta had to protect Elian had them agreeing. Too weak when tears filled the middle sister’s eyes. Those same tears were magically absent after they had agreed to speak privately the next day at their father’s grave.
“That’s not the only reason we are here.” Elian placed a plate into Nesta’s hands, no squash on her plate though she saw it piled on theirs. Elian had always been observant. Noticing the likes and dislikes of her sisters. Only recently did she feel they were in a place where she could use the information she had gathered. Sometimes she wondered if things would have fallen apart if she had acted sooner. Focus on things she had overlooked in her grief.
They ate silently. No one knowing where to start the conversation that was long over do. After three years Nesta knew that she would have to apologize.
The bitter little ball of resentment that Nesta had tried to untangle twisted around her stomach at the thought of once more being the one to take accountability. It started after the Mask situation with Bryce. She had been right. Knew that giving the pleading female in front of her the only chance she had to save her world had been the right thing to do. She had been that female once. Tears in her eyes as she pleaded with people far more powerful than her to help save her people.
She had been made to apologize then. For being reckless and thoughtless. It was the first time she had looked at her sister’s family, her mate’s family, and knew that they were wrong, and she was right. But she had apologized because she knew that arguing would get her nowhere. Resentment had started to grow slowly after that. And it built. Each time she held her tongue when one of them made a joke at her expense or decided what she would do that tiny ball of resentment tugged at her. And she hated it. Hated that she felt like she was going back to the monster they thought she was. So she apologized and bit her tongue and forced a smile.
Because Nesta knew the way of things. She had lived with this type of family before when her mother and grandmother had been alive. Be useful and apologetic.
Feyre stared at her sister, silent as a stone. But She saw the storm in Nesta’s eyes. It was different from the half dead look her sister wore the year after the war but some part of it lay underneath the cold anger and resentment. Feyre had seen that look in the mirror too many times. The lack of control festering under her skin. Green eyes cold and furious string back at her, chastising her for making a decision he didn’t agree with. She never wanted to be him. “Do you really not feel like you have a choice?” she pushed some of the vegetables around her plate. Feyre looked so young, not making eye contact. The obvious hurt coloring her words.
Guilt flushed through Nesta at the sight of her youngest sister. Nesta hadn’t meant to hurt her sister. Had never meant to hurt either of her sisters. Even when she wanted them to leave her alone to rot. “No, Feyre I didn’t…”
“Don’t lie. Those were the rules.” Small burst of sparks ignited from Feyre’s fingertips; she flicked them away just as easily as they had appeared.
Nesta glared at her sister, “I never lie.”
“But you don’t tell the truth either.” Elian’s voice was soft but sure. Her eyes trailing over Nesta’s face, seeing past her mask was as easy as reading one of the recipe books Nesta had gotten her for her birthday.
Feeling as if her sister was on her side Feyre grew more confident in her words, “You hold your tongue which is something you have never done before. Why don’t you trust us?”
“I do.” The words left Nesta on a sigh.
“Then answer the question honestly. Do you really feel like you don’t have any choices.” Feyre’s tone held some of that High Lady authority she put on when she was so clearly out of her depth. It grated against every one of Nesta’s senses. Even her magic slithered under her skin at her sisters attempt to sound superior.
Nesta narrowed her eyes as she took in her sisters. They wanted truth and despite the consequences she knew would come from it Nesta gave them her truth. “How can I Feyre? Nothing I am doing in my life was my choice. Not my work, my training, not even where I live. You all made all of those decisions for me. Voted on them. Sometimes I even…” the words died on her tongue. A truth she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. Even in her own mind.
Elian took her hand. Her skin still soft and uncalloused. Nesta’s hands use to be just as soft. “No go on. Finish what you were going to say.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I would have ended up with Cassian at all if you hadn’t locked me up with him.” Nesta hated that as the words left her it felt as if she was able to breathe for the first time in years.
“You don’t mean that.” Feyre shifted in her seat and for a quick moment Nesta was worried that she would tell Cassian. She didn’t want to see the devastation that would turn to anger and betrayal. Because Nesta knew he wouldn’t understand. She loved him but it didn’t feel like she got to choose him.
Elian squeezed Nesta’s hand, but her words were addressed to their youngest sister. “You do like pushing us towards what you think we should want.” She tried to soften the hurt she knew the words could cause her sister. But it was something Elian had been trying to talk to Feyre about. The deep level of discomfort every time Feyre brought up Lucien and all the good he did for the Night Court, how he made mistakes but was redeeming himself.
“I just want you both to be happy.” Feyre’s defense was sharp. She dropped her plate onto the blanket all but throwing her hands in the air. All she had ever wanted was for them to be happy. She had welcomed them into her family. Knew that they would help her sisters the way they had helped her.
Elian straightened from her seat beside Nesta, dropping her hand as she all but glared at Feyre. “Why do you get to decide what happiness looks like for us?” Her words were still kind. Her natural pitch softening the words.
“That isn’t fair.” Nesta and Elian on one side and her on the other. The way it had been their whole lives. Feyre knew that Nesta thought Elian had traded her in for Feyre, but it wasn’t true. Even living in the same house Feyre felt distant from her sister. Nesta rarely came down from the House unless Cassian brought her. “You are ganging up on me.”
The youngest Archeron had never developed the skill of masking her emotions. Nesta knew her sister thought she had but every emotion was written so clearly across her freckled face.
“No, we aren’t.” Nesta did not have to look at Elians face to know she was rolling her eyes. More and more Nesta was seeing her personality leak out of her middle sister. In the years since they had been turned Elian seemed to have come more out of her shell. “But Nesta has a point. You and Rhys have decided everything for her.”
‘And you let them’ Nesta did not voice the thought out loud, but Nesta could not stop the words from forming in her mind. Fueled by that bitter monster that lived under her skin.
Feyre pointed at a thin tattooed finger in Neta’s direction. The setting sun caught in the stones of her ring. Autumn fire burned in her eyes. But those grey blue eyes were also lined with tears. “Well, she was killing herself! We had to step in.”
Silence was the only response Nesta had. Mention of that year after the war left her feeling as if her skin was too tight. Her bones ached with hoe still her body became. The pit always called her name when someone reminded her how quite it was to numb herself.
Softer than her had spoken earlier Elian glanced at the oldest Archeron next to her. “We did. But we went about it all wrong Feyre. I wasn’t even there.” Guilt radiated off of her. She had been so angry at Nesta for abandoning her in that strange place with new people.
But Feyre didn’t hear the guilt in her sister’s voice. She didn’t even address Elian instead turning to stare pleadingly at Nesta. As if she would take back the her words and agree that Feyre had never done anything wrong. “I didn’t know what else to do. You shut me out. You were killing yourself and you wouldn’t let me help you.” It had killed Feyre to watch her sister turn into a shell of herself. Sure it was embarrassing, every joke her family made about her older sister had made her uncomfortable she had wanted them to get along, but she knew Nesta. Despite what everyone thought she knew her sister had been punishing herself. Taking those men to her bed and drinking had been so concerningly out of character for the sister that had mocked her for her own sex life.
“You didn’t want to help me you wanted to control me.” Spine straight as a blade Nesta met her sister’s eyes. Daring her to contradict her. To act as if she hadn’t said those exact words to her before locking her away.
“No…”
“You said I was embarrassing you and that you needed to control me so your people would respect you.” The memory was still fresh as if she was back in that study. The one room in the river mansion that Nesta actively tired to avoid going into. Her mind was sharper as a fae but she had always had a perfect memory.
Feyre shook her head searching her own memories about that horrible morning. Vile and stubborn refusing to see that they were trying to help her. She had pleaded with her sister. “That’s not true.”
“Believe what you must.”
“It’s not. And even if I did say that it was only to make you listen.” Feyre was sure she would never tell her sister she wanted to control her. But she remembered how obstinate Nesta had been. How frustrating it was to be turned away when she was offering a lifeline.
Nesta leaned forward managing to look down her nose at her youngest sister. “It wasn’t about helping me it was about you feeling superior. You have always acted like you get to decided what we should be doing.” It had chafed when they were younger. Feyre never did anything she was told, always thought she knew best, but had no issue throwing out demands. Offended when they didn’t do as she wanted.
“Somebody had to! Somebody had to look out for us, and it wasn’t going to be either of you.” Feyre leaned back, putting herself farther away from her two sisters as she could with out scooting backwards.
Waves of brown hair fell off Elians shoulder as she tilted her head studying her little sister. She watched the angry flush of her little sister’s face. Pieces falling into place. “This is all about the cabin?”
Sometimes when Elian looked at her sisters she saw them how they were in that run down cabin. Too thin, too hungry, too divide with no way to find each other. Three girls far too young to take on the burdens of a household. She wondered if it was her magic or just memories too strong to ignore.
“Of course it is...” A startled bird flew from the tree that shaded their father’s grave, “I had to be responsible. I didn’t want to, but I had to be.” She had done everything for them. Given up so much for them. ‘Keep the family together.’ That had been her mother’s parting words. The promise she had made. And the proof that she had not be able to so that was resting in the ground behind them.
“No you didn’t. We were children, Feyre. He should have been taking care of us.” Nesta gestured behind her to the large stone commemorating a man who died the only time he ever bothered to show his daughters he loved them. For so long she carried the guilt over her feelings towards him. Ashamed of her anger now that he was dead. But that guilt faded, and the anger returned.
Feyre threw her hands up. She tended to be more animated when her emotions were high. “But he wasn’t. He was never going to be able to. Not with his leg.” They had spent the last of their money on fixing his leg, but the damage had been done. He may have healed physically but clearly the beating and broken more than his bones. The strong man that he left her hid away from her lessons in his office was gone.
“He was useless before his leg. You need to stop defending him. Stop blaming us for his failure.” Nesta hands bawled into fist. To many memories flooding her mind. Taking her away from the grassy meadow and dropping her in a cold perfect mansion. Blood smeared along her hands and feet, she had been a little too free during her latest lessons and her grandmother had corrected her with her cane, staring up at her father. Heh ad looked at the blood. Dragged his dark eyes down her body before looking into the room behind her opening his mouth as if to say something. But then Elian had cried down the hall and he had shifted Feyre in his arms and walked away. Nesta had been six.
This time Elian had reached for Feyre’s hands. She used the same voice for when she was consoling Nyx when he threw a tantrum about being told no. “We were not your parents, Feyre.”
She pulled her hands away from Elian. The condescending tone of her sister grating against her nerves. “No but you made me feel like I had to be yours.”
“That is not on us, and you know it. We did things in the cabin same as you.” If Elian was hurt by the rejection she didn’t show it. But it was clear in the sharpness of her tone. Her hands resting back in her lap.
“I was out in those woods every day.” She had spent hours in those woods, checking snares and trying to follow tracks. Knowing that no one would be grateful for what she brought it but would criticize anything too small to feed them all. She had always felt her sisters stares when all she could manage was a rabbit or two.
“And we cooked and cleaned. We made sure we survived just as much as you did, and you never acknowledge it.”
“You left me! You had each other and I was alone! You made me feel so small.”If she was standing, she would have stomped her foot. She could feel Rhys dragging a loving talon down her shields. She almost opened them on instinct, wanting to feel his support and comfort. Feyre stared at her two sisters. She had promised them that Rhys wouldn’t be involved. It had been the only way Nesta agreed to this conversation. A stray thought rose from the back of her mind; if she broke that rule, she would lose her sister forever. Possibly both. So, fighting against every instinct she strengthened her walls and sent him away.
Nesta had never wanted her sister to feel that way. But there was no apology she could make as she took in her sister’s face. Because she had known that she had hurt her even if it hadn’t been her intention. “Feyre…”
“You made me feel like I could die out there and you wouldn’t care.” A truth that Feyre had kept locked away in her heart. Rhys had seen it, the others had as well. And she knew that was part of the reason they were so protective of her. Because they did care.
Elain’s voice was watery as if she was holding back her own tears. “We would have cared Feyre. We would have been devastated.”
“I Know. I know that now. You went to the wall for me. But it doesn’t erase years of feeling like you didn’t.” Feyre smiled at Nesta. It had been hard reconciling the sister she thought she knew with the one who spoke about how unfair it had been that Feyre had been taken.
Neta stared at her sister. “I never wanted you to feel like that. I was…I was so angry in that cabin. Mostly at myself but also at him. He was supposed to be the one in the woods, Feyre, not you. But you did and it was just a reminded that I was a failure.” Always a failure at everything. Never enough. The words that had haunted her since she was a child.
The tears that had been gathering in Elian’s eyes silently slipped down her cheek. But she did not sob even as her words wavered. “You weren’t a failure Nesta. You did so much for us. I was the one who didn’t do anything. I didn’t cook; I didn’t hunt. I couldn’t even manage to grow anything edible.” Finally, the sobs broke through. Her sisters had always protected her, they had done so much to keep them alive and instead of turning on her for not doing anything they had turned on each other.
This time it was Nesta who reached out for sister’s hand. “You took care of father. The only reason he as alive to bring those ships is because of you. I would have let him die. I was so mad at him for everything. I would have let him die.” That realization had haunted her after his death. For so long Nesta would have let her father die and he had spent his last seconds telling her how much he loved her.
A truth hit Feyre as she watched her sisters’ faces. The resentment she had felt for them sometimes mirrored in Nesta’s face. The guilt on Elain’s. She looked over Nesta’s shoulder to stare at the towering stone that Rhys had commissioned for their father’s grave. “He would have let us die.” It was a sobering thought. Silence followed the declaration, the truth of it ringing in the air.
“Its why I am so happy here.” And she was so truly happy here. With her mate and her son who she would burn the world down for. She had friends that were as much her family as the blood sisters sitting in front of her. “I found a family that made me feel valued. That would care if I died, I wanted you both to be a part of that. I want you to have what I have.”
“But they were going to let you die.” The words shot ice through the three of them. But Nesta would not take them back. It was a topic they did not speak of. Not privately and certainly not at family dinners where they gathered to coo over the newest addition as if it did not matter what had happened to bring him into the world. “They were going to let you die and you still choose them. You forgave them but not me.” Nesta hated the vulnerability that had crept into her voice. Too much had been ripped open today. Food lay forgotten around them as the clouds still rolled overhead. Her hand dropped from Elian’s.
“There was nothing to forgive I was never mad at you.” Nesta didn’t look at her and Feyre was stuck again by how deeply her sister felt. It was so easy to believe that even now Nesta didn’t care, didn’t feel anything. And Feyre was guilty of falling back into that belief until she saw Nesta break again.
“Now who is the liar? I know that Cassian took me to the mountains on Rhys order. You knew and you let him.” Cassian had admitted that Rhysand’s had wanted Nesta out of Velaris when he took her on the hike again a year later. It was an annual tradition that Nesta hated but never could tell him. All it did was reminded her that she was a horrible sister.
“I told him to bring you back. I told him I understood why you did it. That I was grateful you did. I was so mad at them for keeping the secret.” Everything slowed down for Nesta. She had carried the guilt of that fight for years. To know that Feyre never blamed her. It fractured something she was not prepared to face just yet.
Feyre had turned to face Elian. “I was mad at you too. You didn’t tell me. I saw you every day and you didn’t tell me.” That had hurt almost as much as Rhys keeping the secret from her. She had understood his reasoning when he explained that he had just wanted her to be happy. But with her being housebound so much during her pregnancy her and Elian had bonded or at least Feyre thought they had.
“I didn’t know.” Elian spoke quietly but her own betrayal was clear in her voice. No one had told her her sister was going to die. She knew what Feyre knew. That the birth would be risky, but she had hope. Had seen her little sister overcome odds before. Had believed that Feyre would pull off the impossible again. “I didn’t know. No one told me the wings would kill you. Please believe I would have told you.”
I wish we had some wine.” Silence followed Nesta’s words until, like a bell cutting through the mid-afternoon day, Elian started laughing. It was watery but triggered Nesta and Feyre to join her.
Reaching into the basket she had packed Elian pulled out two large bottles of wine that she had stolen from the River Mansion. “Luckily I thought ahead.”
They spoke about choices and grief while they passed the bottles of wine around. Feyre had asked, half a bottle in, what her sisters wanted to do with their no immortal life. The guilt that she had never thought to ask before eating through her. Elian wanted to move out, find her own place outside of Velaris. Not far, a cottage where she could still be close to Nyx but where she felt like she could breathe. Nesta had been slow to admit she didn’t know what she wanted. Her life had always been planned out for her. They had promised to help her find what she wanted out of her life, on her terms.
They spoke of their father. How he had been before they lost the money, how he had been in that rotting cabin. Spoke briefly of their mother, Nesta’s silence did not go unnoticed by the younger Archerons but a shared look of understanding passed between them. There would be time for that conversation later. There were more tears and even laughter. The conversation turned to the fae they were now living amongst. The family that had welcomed Feyre with open arms and her sisters out of obligation.
“They have each other. And I’m not…mad. I’m hurt but I think I understand now. They have been with him for over 500 years. Of course they are going to choose him over me.” Wine had clouded her inhibitions and truths that Feyre had pushed away came pouring out. “But I want that for us. I want to know that no matter what it will be us against everything else. I need it to be us against everything else.”
“No more half-truths and secrets.” Elian took a large drink from the last reaming bottle of wine before passing it to Feyre giggling as she did so.
Holding up the bottle, her face flushed from the alcohol she proclaimed loudly, “No more demands” Feyre tipped the bottle no longer feeling the slight burn from the sweet wine.
Nesta reached over snatching the bottle before Feyre could finish it almost losing her balance in the process. “No more pulling away.” Her laugh was clear and she drank the last of the win.
Elain reached out grabbing each of their hands. Tears in her eyes now from the alcohol. “We are sisters and even if we do not always like each other we are all we have in this world.”
“When it comes down to it, it will be us against everything.”
There was strength in the enclosed circle of their hands. A feeling that should have been there from the moment they were born. There was no one left who remembered who they were before going above the wall. There were no more excuses for their divide. No social climbing mother demanding perfection, no neglectful father too concerned with what he did or did not have, no cabin and starvation turning them on each other. There was no family that would put them above all else. They were all they truly had.
A bond stronger than anything magic could create.