Chapter Text
To say that Cassian panics when Nesta collapses while running laps is an understatement.
He’s wrapping up Valkyrie training for the day, instructing the group to run five final laps as a cool down when he sees his mate drop to her knees with a wail. Within moments he is sprinting across the roof, confident that Azriel can instruct the last few minutes of the session so that he can figure out exactly what has happened.
Gwyn and Emerie stopped running when they saw Nesta fall, huddling around their sister as she continues to cry on the ground. They make space for Cassian to kneel at Nesta’s side and he is grateful when they stand up but remain close, forming a shield to hide their trembling friend from the other priestesses curious eyes.
Nesta looks up at him, her voice catching on a sob as she wraps an arm around her waist. “Cass,” she whimpers, reaching her free hand out to grasp one of his own.
“Hi sweetheart,” he starts, pulling her outstretched hand towards his mouth and dropping a kiss on the back of it. “Are you alright?”
He knows she isn’t. Nesta has come a long way in the months since she began training, slowly allowing herself to be vulnerable rather than internalizing her pain, but she would never cry in front of the other Valkyries if she could help it. She is their leader, in spirit if not in name, and she prides herself on setting an example for the others. To have broken down so publicly, something must be seriously wrong.
“It hurts,” Nesta sobs, gripping his hand tighter than he thought possible. “My stomach, something’s wrong.”
Cassian’s heart plummets as she begins to cry in earnest, heaving sobs wracking her body.
He looks across the roof to Azriel, who is dismissing the other priestesses quietly. Gwyn follows his gaze, informing Cassian that she would get Nesta some water. He watches her approach Az and knows that she is quietly enquiring if his shadows had sensed anything in the moments before Nesta collapsed.
Emerie kneels down beside Nesta, stroking a hand up and down her back gently. “Let it out, sestra,” she murmurs. “When did the pain start?”
“It just started,” Nesta whimpers, tears still falling as she leans into Emerie’s touch. “I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening.” She lurches forward, vomiting violently before beginning to sob again. Gwyn rushes back in an instant, handing Nesta a flask of water and informing her that Azriel has left to fetch Madja. Nesta takes a small sip of the water, but she can’t stop crying long enough to get a substantial amount into her system.
He reaches for Nesta gently, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “The healer’s on the way, Nes,” he murmurs, “we’re gonna get this figured out. Do you want Madja to look you over in our room?”
Feeling her nod against his neck, Cassian stands with his mate in his arms and begins making his way towards the house, pausing so that Emerie can open the door for him. Nesta continues to cry quietly as he moves them towards their shared room, but she cries out loudly when he places her on their bed and begins to step away.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I’m not leaving,” he coos, brushing a hand over her cheek. “Just thought you might want to get out of those leathers, huh? Change into something more comfy?”
Nesta nods her head slightly, leaning back on the mountain of pillows she insists on sleeping with. He grabs the shirt he had discarded last night, setting it on the bed beside her. It’s only when he begins unlacing her leathers and scents blood that he realizes what is happening.
He pauses, considering the best way to bring up his revelation. “Baby, when’s the last time you had your cycle?”
Her eyes widen, gripping her stomach tightly. “I, I haven’t- not since before Hybern.” Before she and Elain were Made. It makes sense to Cassian now, if she had never experienced her cycle as a High Fae she wouldn’t have recognized her body’s symptoms. The sudden pain, the vomiting; all common among High Fae females who experienced cycles.
He continues to remove her leathers, watching as Nesta clamps her legs shut as he peels off her pants. He recognizes this as one of her “human” moments, a bit of modesty leftover from her life beneath the Wall.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Nes,” he murmurs, earning him a swat to the shoulder. “Madja will be here soon and will be able to prepare a pain tonic, did you wanna hop in the bath before she gets here?”
“No,” she whines, curling into the fetal position and allowing him to wrap a blanket around her. Cassian perches himself on the edge of the bed beside her, pulling the pins from her hair and unraveling the braid that makes up her signature coronet. Taking down Nesta’s hair has become one of their nightly rituals, a process that allows both of them to unwind from their day and sink into the intimate shared space that exists in their room. Cassian would not trade those moments for anything in the world and thanks the Mother that his mate allows him to share these tiny moments.
He runs a gentle hand over her hair, stroking his thumb over her temple. “Em and Gwyn are in the living room, if you’d rather they keep you company. I can also send for Elain, or Feyre.”
Nesta shakes her head slowly, reaching her hand out blindly to grasp at his leathers. Once her fingers find purchase in the hem of his top, she weakly tries to draw him closer. “Only you, Cass,” she murmurs. “Just want you.”
Shifting further onto their bed, Cassian tucks himself behind his mate, fitting his wing over her curved form protectively. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart” he says, dropping a gentle kiss on her brow. “Gonna be right here with you the whole time.”
—
Madja comes and goes from the House of Wind with very little fanfare, leaving behind a collection of tonics, teas, and other small comforts to guide Nesta through her cycle.
“The first one is always the worst,” she says gently as she applies a peppermint salve to Nesta’s pulse points to stave off nausea. “Because of your, ah, delicate condition after the war, it is likely that your body shut down and your cycle was temporarily disturbed. Now that you’ve regained your strength, your cycle has begun again. This is a good thing, your body is telling you that it is strong enough to carry a youngling.”
Cassian mentally takes note of all the recommendations that the healer offers, paying close attention to how Nesta reacts to certain suggestions. She looks disappointed when Madja sternly tells her to take it easy with training for the first few days of her cycle and he knows that keeping her away from the training ring the next morning will be a struggle.
He escorts Madja to the roof, where Azriel is waiting to return her to Velaris. Giving the healer his thanks once more, Cassian hurries back to his mate. She’s still tucked in their bed, wrapped under a fleecy blanket that he is sure the House produced for her. Her tears have stopped, leaving her eyes puffy and red, but he thinks she has never looked more beautiful.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He kneels on the floor beside where she is tucked into the bed, brushing a few unruly strands of hair out of her face. “That tonic works quick, huh?”
“Issa li’l better,” she slurs slightly, clearly struggling to fend off sleep. She reaches out and strokes her index finger down the bridge of his nose. “Love you.”
“I love you too, Nes,” he says, smiling at her tenderly. “I’m gonna make you some of that tea Madja recommended, can I get you anything else?” She shakes her head sleepily and Cassian can’t help pressing a kiss to her brow.
When he returns to her with a steaming cup of tea, she’s fully asleep under yet another blanket. He looks up at the room’s ceiling, muttering his thanks to the House for keeping an eye on his mate in his absence. He situates himself on the bed beside her, stroking a hand over her hair as she sighs quietly in her sleep and settles in to keep an eye on her for the rest of the afternoon.
—
Cassian must have dozed off beside Nesta at some point, because he wakes to the sound of her sniffling and is immediately on alert.
“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he murmurs, reaching over to pull her close to his chest. Nesta moves easily, tucking her face into his neck and whimpering quietly.
“Hurts so bad,” she whines, wrapping both arms around her lower abdomen.
“I know, Nes, I know. Can I run you a bath with those oils Madja left?” He can feel her nod so he scoops her into his arms and moves off the bed toward their bathroom. As he moves, Nesta wraps her arms around his neck and legs around his waist, clinging tightly to him. She’s still so small, even with the muscle she’s put on since they began training, and he can’t help but indulge her desire for extra touch when she isn’t feeling well.
Their bathtub is big enough to fit multiple Illyrians, which was happily proven by Emerie and Azriel during a raucous evening shortly after the Valkyries returned from the Blood Rite. He reaches over to turn on the tap and begin filling the tub, pressing a steady hand to Nesta’s lower back as he does so. He can feel her flinch slightly so his hand begins rubbing soothing circles where it rests.
“Good girl,” he croons, reluctantly setting Nesta down on the edge of the tub so that he can grab the oils Madja had left behind. Unstopping one, he sniffs it quickly before offering it to her to smell. “What do you think, Nes, does lavender sound good?”
She nods, grabbing at his free hand as he pours a few drops of the potent mixture into the tub. His mate moves his hand to her abdomen and he resumes the slow circles he was previously making on her back, watching as the tub continues to fill. Madja’s oils have turned the water a soft purple and created a thin layer of bubbles, which makes Nesta smile. She isn’t always comfortable in the tub, preferring to use the shower that he installed as a mating present, but she has come to enjoy the simple pleasure of a bubble bath.
“Thanks Cass,” she whispers, beginning to remove the shirt he had helped her into earlier. “You don’t have to stay, I know this is—“
He cuts her off, cupping her face in one of his hands. “You don’t ever have to thank me Nes, not for this. I’ll be around as long as you want me.”
Shimmying out of her underwear, Nesta takes hold of his hand and steps into the tub, sinking into the water slowly. She squeezes his hand tightly as she moves further into the water and he squeezes back three times. It’s their code, the tiny shorthand they developed shortly after their mating ceremony. It can mean any number of things: I love you, I’m proud of you. It’s meant “ let’s leave dinner early and fuck ” at least twice, to the chagrin of their family.
Once Nesta is settled in the tub, Cassian takes a seat on the floor beside her, idly playing with her fingers as she tries to relax. Every so often she shifts in the tub, trying to find a comfortable position until he moves closer and dips his hand in the water, resting his palm on her abdomen. She visibly relaxes at his touch, leaning her head back on the padded edge of the tub.
“Do you think Az will ever buck up and tell Gwyn he’s in love with her?”
Nesta snorts softly at his question, turning her head to face him. “Absolutely not. Gwyn will be the one to make the first move, mark my words. The real question is when will she make her move?”
They continue talking idly for the duration of Nesta’s bath, discussing the bookshelves he’s planning to build Emerie for her upcoming birthday and Elain’s most recent vision of Rhysand inexplicably dressed in footie pajamas among other topics. He can tell when the pain begins to hit Nesta again, as she curls in on herself in the now cool water. He offers a hand to help her up and watches as a stack of fluffy towels appears beside the tub suddenly.
“Thanks House,” Nesta murmurs, allowing Cassian to wrap her in one of the towels and pat her dry with another. She shuffles awkwardly to their closet and, knowing she will want some space to dress, he busies himself with draining the tub and preparing another pain tonic that Madja had left for her.
When he enters the bedroom, he finds Nesta curled under the covers in the center of their bed, almost entirely obscured by blankets. He can see the collar of one of his oldest sweaters poking out from under the covers and when she moans in pain, causing their bond to go taut and pull him towards her. He positions himself on the edge of the bed, setting the pain tonic on the small table beside it.
Brushing her hair away from her face, he leans down and kisses her softly on the tip of her ear. Her eyes are shiny with tears again and his heart crumbles at the sight.
“Here, baby, drink this,” he places the tonic in her hand and watches her swallow it down before collapsing back on the pillows.
“Thanks Cass,” she whimpers, swallowing hard. “Madja is great but that stuff is really gross.”
He can’t help but laugh at his stubborn, perfect mate complain about the taste of a tonic while experiencing some of the worst pain a female can have.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. I’ll let Madja know that Lady Death does not approve of the taste of her tonics.”
Nesta grumbles in response to his teasing. “Tell her it was Rhysand who complained, so she thinks he’s a whiny baby.”
Crawling into the bed behind her, Cassian wraps his arms around his mate, chuckling as she mutters about Illyrian males and baby bats until she falls asleep