Post War- One Month Later

A soft wind blew through the streets of Velaris, twisting through the buildings and allies, sending the fallen leaves into small tornadoes around the city patrons feet as they wandered through the Quarters. It was late in the evening, most had gone back home for dinner and bed, or were mingling in the bars and dance clubs on the other end of the city. The sun was halfway below the horizon, the sky above the mountains had turned dark already, the inky blackness of the night spreading over the ocean where the reds, oranges and purples were slowly saying their farewell to the City of Starlight. A female wondered the streets, alone. She walked slowly, wrapped in a warm cloak for the Autumn season as the weather began to chill in preparation for winter. Her golden brown hair was twisted into a coronet on her head, small tendrils falling to frame her face that had been pulled out of the elegant up-do by the wind coming off the river. Her blue eyes were sharp, ever-watchful as she studies the patrons walking by her and making their final purchases within the Quarters.

She stopped midway across a bridge, turning to face the ocean and the mouth of the river, leaning onto the stone railing and watching as the sun finished his decent beneath the horizon. She was dressed in a beautiful, form-fitting dress of pale grey and ivory. It was low-cut enough to show a modest portion of her feminine assets, but conservative enough for her personal tastes. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself, one ear perked to the noises and footsteps around her, but remained focused on the horizon and the stars that slowly began to wink into existence above her.

A month had passed since the end of the war, and Nesta Archeron had found herself alone, bored and slightly depressed. There was something that was missing from her life, something that she couldn't quite put a finger on, leaving her without a purpose and confused. She was still the Emissary for the Night Court, and on occasion, accompanied her sister and her High Lord to the Human Realms, telling her and her sisters stories and the stories of the war. Aside from that, however, Nesta had pulled back from the rest of the inner Court, withdrawn and sullen, lost in her own head far too often.

Her sisters had tried to speak to her on multiple occasions, had even tried to bring her out into the city more than once. Nesta had gone, if only to make Elain happy and get Feyre off her back for a while, but she always immediately returned to her rooms and locked the door behind her. Cassian had tried to talk to her on one occasion, an occasion that made her wince every time she thought about it. It had not gone well, to say the least, and was something she wish she were able to take back.

She had been frustrated, depressed and anxious. She had been afraid and was worrying about everything far too much. She would never admit that, and she never let it show on her face exactly what emotions she was feeling, but Cassian had come to her door. He had knocked quietly, had asked her if everything was okay. Her mind flashed to the battlefield, where she leaned over him, ready to die wrapped in his arms, where he was bleeding out, where Nesta realized exactly how much she cared for the male beside her...

She had panicked. She had said things she didn't mean. She had heard the silence on the other end of the door. She had heard the front door of the townhouse slam and the boom of massive wings in the air.

And Nesta had cried herself to sleep that night.

She shook her head, feeling anxiety roiling in her stomach once again at the memory, clenching her fists around the fabric of the cloak she wore and forced herself to focus on the last shred of light that kissed the horizon. She was missing something, something crucial in her life. She had spent the entire last month thinking about it, and she finally realized what it was. With a sigh, Nesta brushed a strand of hair from her face and stared down at the waters of the river beneath her, where fish danced beneath the surface. She watched the light of the city reflect off the waters, and wondered what it would feel like if she dived right in.

She wondered what it would feel like to let go, wondered what it would be like to stop caring for a while.

She sighed through her nose and pushed off the railing, turning away from the river and the ocean and the stars and headed back in the direction of the townhouse. She had been wondering the city for hours now, walking down every street and past every store. She knew that her sisters knew where she was, she had no doubt that the Shadowsinger was somewhere in the sky, or the roofs or the shadows watching her every move. She knew Feyre better than her sister thought she did, and she knew the High Lord better too. She didn't bother to look for the Shadowsinger, she knew she would never find him. Instead, she walked slowly, carefully through the streets and back towards the house that had become her new home.

She stopped when she passed a shop of beautiful dresses- dresses and gowns of every color and fabric and make. Her eyes landed on a dress of the deepest blue, the color of her eyes, trimmed with silver. It was beautiful, and normally, Nesta would have to have it. Her eyes focused instead on the reflection in the glass, on the girl who had lost weight in recent weeks, her cheeks sunken slightly, her blue eyes distant and colder than usual. She pulled away from the shop, from the dresses that normally, she would have spent any amount of money on to have.

Things had changed. Nesta wanted different things now, things she never thought she would ever want to have.

The lights were on in the townhouse when she walked through the gate into the small front yard and up the stone steps into the antechamber and shucked off her cloak. The door was open, expecting her, and Nesta padded lightly into the foyer. To her left, the fire burned in the hearth in front of the plush couches where Elain was curled up against a pillow with a book in her lap. She looked up as Nesta stopped in the doorway, and gave her older sister a kind smile. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the fire, a blanket thrown over her lap.

"How was your walk?" She asked, closing her book. Nesta blinked and clasped her hands in front of her, turning to look at the fire.

"Fine," she stated simply. "Have you seen Feyre?"

"She and Rhys are at the House of Wind with the others. They'll be back later tonight." Nesta frowned, but nodded and stepped away from the living area.

"Ill be in my room. Let me know when she gets back." She turned away before her sister could say anymore and hurried up the stairs and down the hall, shutting the door behind her and throwing the bolt home.

Her room was not like she room she had back at their estate in the human lands. It was smaller, more modest and comfortable. Nesta never thought she would ever enjoy having a small living space after suffering in that ramshackle hut for eight years. Instead, she had come to appreciate the modest livings that Rhysand enjoyed and shared with her and her sister. The furnishings were exquisite and expensive, no doubt, and he helped to purchase anything that they requested (Nesta had tested this with miscellaneous items she had no use for upon her arrival in this city months ago). In the short time that Nesta had known her sisters husband and his inner court, she had grown to care for the male in a way she never expected to for someone who was her sisters partner, let alone a Fae. She actually felt a sibling-like bond with the male, although she probably would never admit it.

With a heavy sigh, Nesta began to slip out of the dress she wore. She had come to dress herself recently, forgoing the corsets and impractical bustles and skirts for simpler dresses that were more breathable and easier to move. She slipped down to her under clothes and then stepped out of those as well, moving into her bathing chamber where the shadows had already set up a bath for her. It had taken time to get used to the shadow girls that used to help dress her, and now, she had a silent appreciation for knowing when she needed a bath, or food brought to her room.

The water was warm as she slipped beneath the surface, pulling the pins from her hair and letting it fall down around her in a cascade of light waves that shimmered with colors of gold, caramel and fawn brown. She relaxed into the heat of the water, doing her best to clear her mind from the whirlwind of thoughts and worries and anxiousness that had plagued her for far longer than this past month. Her cold, angry demeanor had become the mask- the walls- that she had learned to hide behind.

As the eldest child in a family that had lost everything, Nesta had forced herself to become strong in the only way she knew how at fourteen years old. She had become cold, distant and unbreakable in the eyes of her sisters, and that was all she needed. They did not need to know exactly how much she hated herself every single time her baby sister had walked out of the house in search for food with the possibility she would never come home, and she did nothing about it. They did not need to know how much she blamed herself for not doing what she could to make the merchants and ruffians leave when they beat their father to a bloody pulp. They didn't know how much she worried for them, for herself; how much she doubted every action, every decision she made; how many time she went over every single memory she had and wondered if she had only done something different, if things had been better.

She had let her little sister be taken into the lands of Fae, and while she had gone after her, she didn't do everything that she possible could have done to get her back. She had stood there as their father was murdered on the battle fields, having never told him that she loved him. She had done nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And no one knew how much it ate away at her every single day.

Nesta scrubbed her hair and body with soap and oils, then dipped beneath the surface, her hair flowing around her like the sea grass in a reef. She opened her eyes, staring up at the distorted shadows on the ceiling of her bathing chamber made by the candles dancing around the room. Her chest began to ache minutes later when she still hadn't come up for air. Her lips trembled slightly with the urge to open and suck in deep breaths, and Nesta wondered how much it would hurt if she did, sucking down water until her lungs had no room for air. She broke the surface, pushing herself out of the tub as she took in deep breaths, reaching blindly for a towel to wrap around her thin, pale body.

Her fingers shook, tightening the towel around herself as she padded wetly back into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed. Her hair clung to her back and shoulders, her lips quivered. She looked down at her hands, where her fingers began to turn black, like smoke beneath her skin, crawling up her hands and arms. Her skin began to tingle, lightly, her veins had turned black and continued up to her elbows. The skin beneath her eyes began to itch, and she knew the veins of her face were doing the same. She hissed, clenching her fingers and shut her eyes, picturing her sister in her garden, of Feyre and Rhys dancing in the kitchen by the light of the moon coming through the window, of the colors of the sunset on the horizon as the sun went down. She pictured her Father on the bow of the Nesta, flanked by the Elain and the Feyre. She pictured anything good and happy until the tingling began to subside.

Elain. Feyre. Velaris. The Court. Father. Cassian.

She opened her eyes, tears pouring down her face and looked down to find pale, familiar skin of her hands. She hadn't told anyone. It started month ago, when she was looking for the cauldron. Amren had an inkling that something had happened to her, that whatever powers she had been given had awoken at some point in time, but she didn't know. No one knew. No one knew that her powers were manifesting, and even she wasn't quite sure what they were.

She had an idea. She was sure everyone had an idea.

She wasn't about to test the theory.

Her body shook with silent sobs as she leaned back against the pillows in nothing but the towel wrapped around herself and curled herself into a ball. She needed to talk to her sister. Things needed to change. She couldn't do this anymore.