As all my fics take place in the same 'verse, there are a couple of details you need to know:

1) Elain and Lucien accidentally mated in "Alone in the Garden (NSFW)"

2) Tamlin revealed he and Amarantha were incompatible mates in "What Rises from the Ashes"

Nessian The Mating: The Wedding (Part 1 of 2)

Every detail mattered, and yet nothing was important.

Nesta couldn't seem to stop her heart from racing. Her skin felt too thin, she was too light, too breathless, too-

"Drink this." Feyre held a cup to her lips and Nesta obediently gulped down the contents. The potion eased the throbbing in her head almost instantly.

"Thank you," she said.

"You didn't eat anything at breakfast. If you don't have something, you'll faint." Elain didn't look up from her work as she traced over Nesta's skin with blue-black paint. Feyre was the superior painter, she had finished her side in the time it took Elain to work her way down to an elbow.

"I'm not hungry." Sitting in the enormous bridal tent, Nesta was far, far too nervous to trust herself with a full stomach.

Feyre set the cup down on a table piled high with refreshments and food, "It's not too late to-"

"I'm not calling it off!" Nesta snapped a bit harder than intended. She winced, "I'm sorry… I don't want to call it off. Please stop asking." Over the last few week's they'd discussed this again and again. "I told Cassian it was his decision. I know he's excited, I won't change my mind. Especially not the morning-of and especially not when we're already here."

Her little sister smiled and pulled a padded stool over so she could sit in front of her, "I was going to say that it's not too late to change your mind about seeing him before the ceremony. It might help your nerves."

"Tell Rhys to tell Cassian… His hair had better be clean and combed or I will destroy him."

Feyre took a moment to relay the message to Rhysand in the groom's tent about twenty feet away. Twenty feet… Even with Rhys and Feyre shielding Cassian and Nesta from one another's scent (as per their request), Nesta could feel him. It was making her heart ache and her skin burn- being so close after so long apart.

"Cassian's hair is clean, and he says he misses you too."

It was three weeks since Cassian left to inspect the Illyrian camps with Rhysand. Just over half a year after the war with Hybern and many were still recovering from their losses. Females were being trained in earnest to bolster the ranks, some of the harder hit camps were joining together to form new clans, and territory lines were being re-drawn, not all of it peacefully. It was a tumultuous time, but Cassian and Rhysand's tour did a great deal towards keeping the fighting between camps to a minimum.

Most days Feyre winnowed to Rhys' side. She met every Camp Lord, resisted the urge to kill several, and gave the Illyrians their first real introduction to their new High Lady- the human-turned-fae who now spent most of her time with Illyrian wings. She was determined to earn the respect of her people, and Rhys made sure no Camp Lord dismissed her. Those who did faced severe penalties.

Whenever Feyre wasn't in the field with Rhys, she was by Nesta's side, lending a supporting shoulder for the female who was without her mate.

Even though it was by choice, Nesta grew increasingly testy with others as that distance between her and Cassian grew. Feyre was there to help act as a buffer and protect them from her.

Among the humans, it was customary for a bride to enter her marriage bed with her virginity intact. Nesta did not regret for a single moment that night only four months ago when she gave hers to Cassian. Still, the breach in protocol inspired her to propose a break in their lovemaking- if only to increase the excitement of their mating.

If she'd known how things would explode, she would have taken Cassian to bed every single night of those three weeks. Hell, they probably would have mated on their own long ago.

Do this, go to the Illyrian camps without me, and the ceremony can be as grand as you want. Grander, even.

She knew Cassian would agree. She knew everything would spiral out of control… But Nesta also knew how much their mating ceremony meant to him, and what it represented.

Cassian was bastard-born, thrown away by his father and orphaned by the cruelty of his Camp Lord. His mother died bitter, weak, and alone with him too young to do anything more than pick fights and cause problems. He was nothing in the eyes of his people- less than nothing. Rhysand's mother took pity on Cassian, yes, but his father had disregarded him as some pet who didn't know his place.

Though the young Illyrians called him Lord of Bloodshed, though he was General of the Night Court armies, his rank above even those sniveling Camp Lords, Nesta knew he was still seen as a nobody by the older generation.

All because he was bastard-born. All because of something he had no control over.

His mate, however, was the Cauldron-forged sister of their High Lord and Lady.

Nesta was Death itself. She was the female who'd leveled a forest and killed hundreds in a single strike during the war with Hybern. Her power wasn't given by the ancient gods of the Illyrians, it was stolen from the very same Cauldron that birthed those gods. She was like Feyre, Amren, and even Elain- something other, something unnatural, something almost holy to the superstitious clans.

That she was Cassian's mate was the bitter envy of all.

So Nesta offered to make a spectacle of their marriage, the union of Bloodshed and Death, just to rub those Illyrian's arrogant faces in it. Just so they would have to stand there and watch that bastard-born upstart tied on a soul-deep level to one of the three most powerful females in Prythian.

The original wedding was to be attended by their loved ones- Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, Amren, Elain, Lucien, Nuala, and Cerridwen. As per Nesta's request, invitations also went out to the Camp Lord of every Illyrian tribe. That simple act turned it into an official ceremony.

And that is precisely where they lost control.

With the High Lord and Lady of Night wed and mated in secret, followed by Elain and Lucien's accidental mating, Nesta's mating to Cassian took on a special significance. Of the three Archeron sisters marked by destiny, only one was marrying properly. That meant that every last bit of festivity that should have been poured into Feyre and Rhys' mating, or perhaps even Elain and Lucien's, fell squarely on Nesta and Cassian.

Since the Illyrian Camp Lords were invited (commanded) to attend, it became a Court event. The Governors of Velaris- all of whom knew and loved Cassian- were welcome guests, and unfortunately that meant Kier and his wife had to come to represent the Court of Nightmares. Heavy threats had already been leveled on Kier by Rhysand- if he did something by word, deed, or facial expression to dampen Cassian and Nesta's special day, he would wish Rhys was merciful enough to kill him.

As per human custom, Nesta would have handmaidens who were to be escorted by an equal number of males chosen by Cassian. Elain would be with Lucien, Mor with Azriel, and Amren with Varian.

If the blame for their newly overcrowded ceremony could be placed on any one individual (besides Nesta), it would be Varian.

Since the heir apparent of Summer would be surrounded by the leaders of the Night Court's armies, the elite of his Court demanded he be guarded by a legion of their own men. Rhys knew that he would need Tarquin as a friend if he was truly to rip down social barriers for so-called Lesser Fae, so he invited the High Lord to attend as well. That quadrupled the number of soldiers expected.

Mor invited Viviane to sit with her after the official ceremony was over, but not long after Viviane pledged her attendance, Kallias made her High Lady of Winter. He would not let his High Lady or mate enter the Night Court alone and she was done being separated from her friends, so then he was coming with the appropriate retinue of nearly two thousand soldiers.

Helion next sent word to Rhysand that he wished to attend "To mourn the loss of a fine male with all who loved him", adding yet another thousand soldiers.

With four High Lords in attendance (and two High Ladies), it was only polite to invite Thesan and his mate. Regrettably, Beron and Tamlin also had to be included to avoid an inter-court slight while the human queens still posed a potential threat to Prythian.

No one thought they would all agree to attend.

Azriel's spies reported that the Lady of Autumn accepted the invitation instantly, thanks to a letter sent with it from Lucien declaring his mating with Elain Archeron. Eris convinced his father that he was the one who accepted the invitation- a way to protect his mother from the worst of Beron's abuse- and so Autumn was suddenly sending a couple thousand soldiers too.

Thesan would not let Beron of all males attend a party that he did not, so he accepted the invite shortly after.

With all other High Lords committed to the ceremony, Tamlin had no choice but to attend. He was trying to make amends for his past errors, he was trying to be the High Lord that Spring deserved, the one he promised Feyre and Lucien he would become, but he was decidedly dreading walking onto a field filled with Illyrians. His role in the deaths of Rhysand's mother and sister in their borders was well known, and Illyrians were not said to be particularly forgiving. He was bringing another two thousand soldiers.

Even Miryam and Drakon were invited, though they were uncomfortable leaving the Cauldron so soon after the war. They sent a delegation of fifty soldiers with their apologies, gifts, and an open invitation for Nesta and Cassian to visit whenever they wished. Nephelle and her mate would be standing with the High Lords during the ceremony in their leader's places.

With every High Lord and Lady, plus their guards, the Court of Nightmares, and the Governors of Velaris all in attendance, the Illyrian Camp Lords made the decision to bring every last warrior in their camps. No one liked the idea of so many converging on the Night Court, and even those Lords who normally flaunted Rhysand's authority were not foolish enough to allow ten thousand soldiers from other Courts surround the High Lord and Lady of Night.

The ceremony was moved to an empty plane in the Illyrian Steppes to accommodate the sheer scale of the new guest list. A city of tents had been erected only a few days before the wedding, each centered around a hastily assembled array of bonfires, literal mountains of alcohol, various game and combat fields, and small popup marketplaces where each Court showcased their own unique goods.

Cassian arrived with the Illyrians three days before the wedding and oversaw the assembly of their own camp, decidedly less jovial than the others. He kept his warriors in check while Rhysand arranged competitions and games for the men after the official ceremony. Nesta's arrival was delayed until that very morning, lest she completely lose control and dash into the Groom's tent to mate with her love before the ceremony even began.

Not that anyone would have objected.

As the guest list exploded, Feyre repeatedly reminded both Nesta and Cassian that there was nothing wrong with eloping. Nesta wasn't sure what bothered her sister more: all the people who would be watching as she as Rhys officiated the Illyrian ceremony, the stress of hosting so many soldiers, or the fact that Tamlin was bringing so many citizens of Spring- faeries who once served her with loyalty and adoration- each and every one of which she'd manipulated through equal portions truth and trickery.

Spring was probably just as safe for her as Night for Tamlin.

The Lord of Spring was making progress in rebuilding trust and goodwill, both among his people and with his former lover, but Nesta knew Feyre was still uneasy around him. They wanted to be something closer to allies, since friendship was not likely for years yet. Still, Feyre had taken Tamlin's place as "Most Despised" in the eyes of her former people.

At least, that was what she feared.

Today all that planning and preparation was coming to a head. The Army of Prythian was reunited to witness this ceremony, to watch their saviors Rhysand and Feyre stand in the middle of the High Lords and wed the devastatingly beautiful Lady of Death to the ruggedly handsome Lord of Bloodshed.

Cassian was closer than he'd been to Nesta in weeks, readying himself just as she was for the first of their three ceremonies: Human, Illyrian, and then a traditional Faerie presentation of food.

Nesta's knuckles were white as she held the wooden braces that kept her from smudging Elain and Feyre's work. Her dress was only half on, leaving her bare chest cold. Amren was braiding her hair as Mor finished her makeup bit by bit. At first it was humiliating to sit in the center of the large tent half-naked with so many rushing about, but as Elain finished the final strokes of paint on her arm, Nesta's anxiety and worry were focused solely on what was yet to come.

"You're turning green. Eat this." Mor shoved what looked like a cube of taffy in Nesta's mouth. She growled viciously, but ate it all the same.

The relief was instantaneous. Her muscles relaxed, her mind cleared, and a bit of the stress melted away.

"What was that?"

"Something you can't have more of and shouldn't tell anyone I gave you." Mor shrugged and returned to the vanity, deliberately avoiding Feyre's incredulous stare. "It will keep you vertical for four hours or so, and by then the third ceremony will have started and you won't need it anymore. Close your eyes." She quickly dipped a thin brush into a jar of kohl and set to work.

"Mor, did you just drug my sister?"

She frowned at Feyre, confused, "Pardon me, High Lady, but I do not know what you are talking about."

"Fine, don't tell me."

"Don't ask Rhys either." Mor winked and quickly applied some liner to Nesta's other eye.

Feyre rolled her eyes and came to inspect Elain's work, "Put a little cross over this one."

"Right!" Elain dipped her paintbrush into the ink and quickly finished the writing that ran to Nesta's wrist, "There, done."

When Mor was finished, Nesta inspected Elain and Feyre's handiwork. As per Illyrian custom, they had painted intricate whorls up both arms from wrist to shoulder. They joined in a ridged pattern across Nesta's chest- one that mirrored Cassian's own tattoos.

Feyre designed the markings with Rhysand's help. Any Illyrian close enough to see would read on Nesta's skin the marks of her bloodline, her victory against Hybern, and the equal accomplishments of her mate. It was a story to the Illyrians, and a reminder what kind of wrath would fall upon them should any make a move against the happy couple.

"You spelled that wrong." Mor pointed to something on Feyre's side. She was the only female in the tent fluent in Illyrian.

"What?!" Feyre and Nesta both snapped.

"Just joking." She patted Nesta on the head and flashed a bratty grin to Feyre, "Everything is fine."

Both Archerons shot her a dirty look, which only made Mor's smile brighter as she skipped off to the makeup table once more.

The scent of citrus-and-sea filled the air as Feyre's magic washed over the paint, sinking it beneath the skin. It would fade within a few hours, but no longer risked smearing or staining her gown. Amren stepped back from her hair as Nesta lowered her arms and rolled her shoulders. Her sisters helped pull the top of the gown up to cover her bare chest at last.

The gown was a compromise between Illyrian and human designs. It fell to the ground in a skirt free of embellishment and covered her breasts, but left her chest largely exposed to emphasize the ink. A white belt sat high on her ribs and attached to thin tulle that covered her shoulders. The fabric did little to interrupt Elain and Feyre's hard work.

Nesta did not mind the scandalous neckline or even transparent 'sleeves', but when she'd chosen the dress it was for a ceremony with just her family in attendance. Now that half of Prythian would be there, she was more than a little nervous. Per Illyrian tradition, the dress was largely backless to show off the wings of the female, hobbled as they were. For Nesta it was just… drafty. She was highly aware of how much skin was exposed beneath the trailing veil Amren clipped into her hair.

The females wore matching gowns of navy blue- the official color of the Night Court. Silver filigree banded around their necks to hold the front of the gowns, with another line beneath their breasts, linking the top and bottom portions of the dress. It was a more modest version of the traditional Court attire- those loose pants and the too-short shirt that left the midriff exposed.

Feyre would be in a simple navy gown with a necklace and crown made of the same silver filigree the handmaidens wore. She was High Lady of Night on this day, another change in the plans thanks to Nesta and Cassian's decision to allow the Illyrian Camp Lords in- a choice that snowballed the ceremony into a Prythian-wide event.

With the dress fully on, hair done, makeup applied, veil fixed, and the paint sunk beneath her skin, it was time for the females to signal that they were ready for the processional to begin. Nesta would not see Cassian until she began the half-mile walk through the Illyrian honor guard towards the dais, where every High Lord and Lady would be waiting.

Nesta took Feyre and Elain's hands in hers and swallowed through the lump in her throat. She didn't look at them, couldn't- not while thoughts were so near of who wouldn't be attending: their mother long dead, and the father cut down before Nesta could give him her forgiveness.

Feyre's breath hitched and Elain squeezed her hand. Knowing her sister's shared her thoughts both eased the burden and somehow made their absence harder to ignore.

"Oh no you don't." Mor flicked her wrist at Nesta, "Don't fuck up my hard work before you even see Cassian." A shield slid over the makeup to protect it from tears.

"Ready?" Feyre asked.

"Ready."

Feyre squeezed Nesta's hand and headed across the tent. Rich rugs and cushions were piled here and there beside trunks that once held each female's gown. A long silver cord hung near the door. With a tug, a silver bell would chime, its call amplified across the camp through Feyre's own magic. The crowds were already gathered and in place, waiting to hear that chime.

Before Feyre could pull the rope, a hand shot through the main flap in the tent- one tattooed in the same pattern as Feyre's left, "For the bride, from the groom." Rhys flicked his wrist and a large, flat box crossed with Illyrian markings appeared on one of the empty seats beside Nesta. Rhysand never looked in the tent- in case one of the females was not yet presentable- but Nesta could feel his wink to Feyre as the hand vanished and he returned to the groom's tent.

Even though Rhys' magic brought her the gift, Nesta could smell Cassian on the box. A note was stuck to the top of it-

'Ha-ha. You're going to be stuck with me forever.'

The note chased away any lingering nerves or worry that Mor's drugged candy had missed. That scent, that bratty tone- that was hers now. He was hers.

She opened the box, and her heart swelled to bursting.

Delicate plates of white gold were carved with intricate shapes and held together by near-invisible chains. Nine ruby stones were embedded in those plates and when Nesta touched them they exploded in light. Their glow filled the engraved channels, a red river of light that illuminated runes very similar to the ones painted on her arms. Those nine stones- the way they glowed when she touched them-

"Conservatives among the Illyrians still believe there is no use for females beyond breeding stock or to use as hostages against their mates." Feyre waved Elain over to help her lift the chains and fix them to hidden hooks in the back of Nesta's gown, "Cassian asked Rhysand after your first time alone together for permission to have this made. He asked as an Illyrian to his Camp Lord, took a knee and everything… Then he asked me to make sure your dresses today were cut right to hold them."

Nine siphons. Nine. As the chains held them to her skin, every last one of them glowed bright. Cassian's gift restored some of her modesty, but it also sent a very clear message to everyone in attendance: Nesta was not his equal. She was his superior. Nine siphons against his seven- she was not a female to underestimate or threaten. She was not breeding stock, but someone to both respect and fear.

"What do they say?" Nesta held her veil aside and studied the runes in the mirror.

Mor came over to inspect them as Feyre did her best to recall the lessons Rhys had given her, "Cauldron-forged. Cauldron-blessed… Demon-witch?" She frowned at the last title, but Nesta only laughed.

"Is it-" Mor read the last set of runes, "-no, that does say 'Demon-Witch'."

Nesta laughed, "It's a pet name."

"Alright then," Feyre chuckled and returned to the door to pull that silver bell.

Somewhere in the distance trumpets blared, signaling the start of the processional. It would take more than half an hour for the guests of honor to all make their way to the dais where the first two ceremonies would be held.

Kier and his wife would be first, followed by the Governors of Velaris, then the Illyrian Camp Lords, the visiting High Lords (and Lady), then the same priestess who oversaw Feyre's swearing in as High Lady, Rhys and Feyre themselves, and Nesta's handmaidens escorted by their males.

Once all were in place, Cassian would enter alone. Only when he reached the dais would it be Nesta's turn.

Human weddings had the bride brought forward by her father or oldest male relative to be given to her husband like some piece of property. As per fae tradition, Nesta would present herself. She would go to her mate on her own, willingly.

Feyre waved her hand and the wooden poles vanished from the sides of Nesta's chair. Mor, Amren, and Elain gathered around her to stand and wait. Even with whatever Mor had slipped to her, even with a hint of Cassian's scent wafting off the jewelry he'd sent, nerves began to creep in.

The minutes crawled by. Nesta found herself clutching Amren's hand tightly. What if she did something wrong? What if she tripped? What if Rhys forgot to put the shield up that kept the sun from burning her? Was that something Helion could do? Should she have asked him?

The crowds outside her tent were relaxed and really just impatient for the ceremonies to be over so the fae games could begin. Still, once the High Lords began their walk to the dais, every last soldier fell silent to watch. Tamlin would enter first, alone. Once he stepped onto the carpet even Nesta could feel the silent hostility rolling off of the Illyrians. Behind him came Beron with Lucien's mother on his right and Eris at his left, then Kallias with Viviane, Thesan and his mate, Tarquin with Cresseida, and finally Helion, unaccompanied.

They were arranged from the southernmost Courts up- at least that was how Rhysand explained it to them. In reality, he kept his favorites closer and the annoying ones further away.

Elain took Nesta's hand and squeezed it with a smile. She was scared too, and with good reason. This would be the first time she ever formally met Lucien's parents, let alone meeting them as his mate. Beron could make no move against Lucien or Elain in the gathering (Rhysand had bound him with oaths not to), but it was the Lady of Autumn that Elain was more worried about. Her life was destined to be significantly longer than her husband's, and Elain wanted to make a good first impression.

At long last, the blaring of trumpets quieted and were replaced by a trilling flute. The priestess was making her way up the aisle.

"Ready?" Feyre whispered.

"Are you?"

"I'll see you up there." Feyre stuck her tongue out at her sister and gave her one last hug before heading out of the tent to meet Rhysand.

The light music of the flute stopped, and moments later trumpets and drums joined together to blast the official anthem of the Night Court for all to hear. Rhysand and Feyre were making their entrance, the most powerful High Lord and Lady in the history of Prythian- the male who's power healed the Cauldron itself, and the mate who brought him back from the dead (with a little help).

All too slowly and yet all too soon, it was time for Amren, Mor, and Elain to leave Nesta and join their male escorts outside. Elain kissed Nesta's cheek, wiped at her own eyes, and went to find her mate.

Nesta's hands began to shake as the tent flap fell into place behind them. She could hear Mor joking with Azriel, Elain and Lucien's murmured flirtations, and even the comfortable silence between Amren and Varian. Suddenly, mating on accident or in secret like the others did not sound like such a bad idea.

Why was I so against it? If I ran into that tent right now and grabbed Cassian, he could fly us out before any of this-

The music shifted again as the couples began their walk down the aisle. Nesta jumped and began to pace furiously. She realized abruptly that were her father there to give her away, at least she wouldn't be alone waiting for the most terrifying moment of her life. She tried to calm down, she tried to sit once more, but the seat was blasted to ash. Nesta merely turned in the direction of the other two stools and they too were disintegrated. She closed her eyes and focused on slowing her breathing, but the anxiety would not let go.

The siphons on her back crackled and sparked trying to contain her power.

Once the couples reached the dais, the trumpets faded. Illyrian drums pounded out suddenly, and a great cheer rose from the armies of the Illyrian steppes. Nesta turned sharply towards the tent entrance. She heard Cassian's chuckle as he walked past, even over the cacophony of sound. A talon lightly scraped the fabric, wings wholly unfurled. His siphons bled power, not filling the world like Rhys or Feyre did, but the wave of might that washed over everyone was certainly enough to make his presence known.

Three weeks since she last saw him, but when a breath of cinnamon air slid into the tent, everything in her wanted nothing more than to tackle that prick and mate with him right there in the middle of the army, audience be damned. His scent was stronger, fresher than the faint whiff on the jewelry, and it set her blood burning.

She heard another soft laugh, then the stroke of a knuckle against the wall of the tent in silent promise and comfort.

Still, she was prowling by the time the drums paused, trumpets blared out once, and then the wild music resumed. At long last, it was her turn.

Nesta covered her face with a shorter layer of her veil, threw open the tent flap and stepped out into the gathered masses.

The bride's tent sat across from the groom's at the end of the wedding aisle. She walked straight-backed to the center of that aisle and turned to stare down the gathered armies of Prythian.

If it weren't for the war, Nesta might have turned right back around and hid in the tent. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for Cassian's sake), she'd stood with the Night Court before so many on the battlefield against Hybern.

Having all the attention focused solely on her was something new.

Tens of thousands lined the long wedding aisle- Illyrian, faerie, and High Fae alike. They'd come with their courts from across Prythian to bask in the presence of the Archerons, to see for themselves the newly revealed Court of Dreams hidden behind the Court of Nightmares.

Feyre Cursebreaker, the human-turned-fae who'd first saved them all from Amarantha was smiling in the distance, standing beside a small female who must have been their chosen priestess. Between the heads and wings of at least three different types of faerie, Nesta just barely spied Elain. She'd drawn significant whispers herself- being the female who first stabbed Hybern in the throat.

Nesta, however, was the Archeron who slowly sawed off the King's head and ended the battle.

She was the Archeron who stole sacred might from the Cauldron itself, and as a frightened human.

Fate had touched the Archeron line, and within a year all of Prythian had seen the impossible from the three sisters. The entire continent lived in fear and wonder at what they might accomplish with a hundred years.

Nesta stepped onto the velvet carpet of the aisle and did precisely as Amren taught her: she hauled up that piece she'd taken from the Cauldron- a chunk of creation itself- and lowered her shields. The whisper of the Cauldron's might touched everyone she passed. Her magic was something heavy, unnatural, and powerful enough to make even Rhysand think twice.

She was a contradiction to herself, a vision of the perfect half-fae, half-human bride in her long white gown and trailing veil. Slender, proud, delicate, imperious, and devastatingly beautiful… Yet those siphons on her back glowed bright, crackling with that sense of other that bled from her. Something dark and cold shone in her eyes, as though a demon prowled beneath the angelic surface.

Whispers spread from those Nesta passed once they saw the jeweled backing, the siphons straining to contain her raw power. Many made signs to ward against evil.

Let them fear me. Nesta let a little more of that other-ness creep into her eyes. Several Illyrians took a step back. See what the Cauldron deemed equal to your bastard-born nobody. The child you abused, the boy left to scrape out his survival in the cold. Look at his mate, his equal, and know that I now claim that male as my prize over everyone else gathered here.

Cassian's wings peeked out over the army and a bit of the danger slid from Nesta's eyes. Death herself, a proclaimed "Demon-Witch", and yet when she saw even a solitary obsidian talon, ferocity melted into love.

The High Lords and Ladies of Prythian stood tall in muted finery. All kept their power dampened somewhat, lending themselves to the ceremony without overshadowing the couple. Tamlin did not so much as cast an eye to Feyre or Lucien. The Lady of Autumn stared blankly ahead, barely resisting looking to Elain only five feet away. Even Beron's natural sneer was mostly gone, thanks to Rhys' warnings.

Nesta marked every last fae on the dais, even as she walked a little faster. Even as her eyes flicked across their line, desperate for a glimpse of her mate's face.

When she saw him at long last, her heart soared. His hair was brushed and clean (thanks to Feyre's reminder), his uniform was as polished as those razer-sharp talons on his wings. He stood just a bit taller when her blue eyes met his hazel and Nesta's breath caught in her throat. A look of wonder spread across his face with no mask daring to hide it. Love, pride, and joy made those eyes overbright.

Home. Love. Mate.

There were several shouts of alarm when Nesta vanished, reappearing before Cassian in an instant.

Her first winnow was to his side.

Mirth danced in Cassian's eyes as gasps went through the crowd and the drums fell into a clumsy silence. Rhys laughed first, followed by Helion and Tarquin. Even Feyre and the priestess laughed at the impatient bride before Cassian took her hands in his and the first ceremony began.

"Nesta Archeron, do you come to wed this male of your own free will and with the blessing of your matriarch?" Rhysand's voice boomed over the crowd.

"With the blessing of Feyre Cursebreaker, I come to wed this male." Nesta repeated.

"Seriously?" Cassian shot Rhys a dirty look and the High Lord of Night winked. Nesta had to bite her cheeks to stop from laughing. She was terrified before the ceremony began, righteous as she walked down the aisle, and now she just felt giddy.

Among Illyrians, the female whose husband had the highest status within a family line was automatically the matriarch over her unwed siblings. Feyre felt strange taking such a position of authority over her elder sister, but she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

"Cassian Bastard-born, do you come to wed this female of your own free will and with the blessing of your Camp Lord?" It killed Feyre to use the Illyrian name, but it wouldn't matter to Cassian much longer anyways.

"With the blessing of Rhysand, Lord of Night and Camp Lord of the Night-Wing clan, I come to wed this female." His voice wobbled on the last word and he squeezed Nesta's hand tighter. Cassian released her left hand and they turned to face Feyre and Rhysand fully.

Every Illyrian had to belong to a clan, but the General of the Night Court armies had to be above all other Camp Lords. Every High Lord, even Rhysand's pureblood father, was considered Camp Lord of the Night-Wing clan. Azriel and Cassian were the only members under Rhysand, but it was a clan the males could not be prouder to be a part of. And now it would be Nesta's clan too.

"Nesta Archeron, as your matriarch I bless this marriage and reaffirm my consent. As your Camp Lady-" Feyre cast an eye at the gathered Illyrians, daring them to so much as snort at the title Rhysand had given her, "-I swear to protect your union in word and deed. I will defend your mate in battle, and protect his life at all costs." She put a hand on her sister's shoulder and they gently pressed their foreheads together.

"Cassian Bastard-born, as your Camp Lord I bless this marriage and reaffirm my consent. As your Camp Lord, I swear to protect your union in word and deed. I will defend your mate in battle, and protect her life at all costs." Rhysand and Cassian repeated the female's gesture.

Rhys and Feyre both stepped back and the first of two dozen Illyrian Camp Lords stepped forward. He was a male Nesta knew by sight alone- the current Lord of the camp Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel had trained in as children.

"I, Lord Devlon of the Dark-Wing clan swear to protect the union of my General and Nesta Archeron in word and deed. Lady Archeron, I will defend your mate in battle, and protect him with my life. Commander, I pledge my blade to the guardianship of your mate and family."

Lord Devlon drew his blade and handed it hilt-first to Cassian. He took the Illyrian sword in hand and pressed the blade to Devlon's throat hard enough to draw a single bead of blood, "I accept your oath, and hold you to your word."

Cassian handed the blade to Nesta. She had practiced for this moment with him hundreds of times, but still waited until she felt Feyre's magic wrap around her hand before lifting the blade. Nesta let her sister guide her hand until she too drew a single bead of blood, "I accept your oath, and hold you to your word."

Nesta passed the blade back to Lord Devlin, who sheathed it and returned to his spot on the dais. The beads of blood would not be washed off or wiped away until the end of the Illyrian and human ceremonies.

One by one the Camp Lords came forward to swear their oaths. One by one Cassian, then Nesta, would hold their blades to the Lord's throat and draw blood to mark the oaths. One male, a sallow-faced Lord who looked vaguely familiar, practically spat the words out. When Cassian held the blade to his throat, he 'accidentally' let the tip dig in a bit more than necessary. Though she helped Nesta draw the single required drop of blood, Feyre glared at the back of the male's head with obvious distaste.

They played their roles in the Illyrian ceremony without any further incident. At long last, the final Camp Lord swore his oath, Nesta and Cassian drew their drops of blood, and Rhysand stepped forward once more with Feyre's hand clasped in his.

"Cassian Bastard-born, by our laws and traditions you have no name to give your bride. I hereby declare you Cassian Archeron, General of the Illyrian armies. I have given you the name of my Camp Lady's family, may you wear it with pride and honor your new lineage always. Or else." He winked, then clapped his hands, "As High Lord of Night, and your Camp Lord, I declare you wed by the laws of the Illyrians. Nesta Archeron, I welcome you to the Night-Wing clan."

"Neasta Archeron, as your husband is without a father-" Feyre could not force herself to call Cassian bastard-born as though that was all he could ever be, "-I hereby welcome him into the Archeron family. May he bring you mighty children to honor our family name. As High Lady of Night, and as your Camp Lady, I declare you wed by the laws of the Illyrians. Cassian Archeron, I welcome you to my family."

"If there is no objection, I shall now officiate the human ceremony." The priestess stepped between Feyre and Rhysand. Human ceremonies were usually performed by whoever the nearest Lord was. Considering that would again be Feyre and Rhysand, Nesta and Cassian agreed to let the priestess preside over this part of the ceremony.

"I bid you repeat after me, and know your words are marked by the gods of all those gathered here, and by the Cauldron we all bow before. Lord Archeron-"

Cassian turned to stare into Nesta's eyes as he echoed the priestess, "I, Cassian Archeron, take you, Nesta Archeron, as my wife. I swear to love you, to share my life openly and truthfully with you always. I vow to care for you in health or illness, in wealth and poverty, through every heartbeat from now until my last- and even then I will not break this vow." Cassian added the last bit unprompted. Once again, his eyes shone overbright and his voice grew breathless.

Nesta smiled and began to repeat the words before the priestess even spoke, "I, Nesta Archeron, take you, Cassian Archeron, as my husband. I swear to love you, to share my life openly and truthfully with you always. I vow to care for you in health or illness, in wealth and especially in poverty, through every heartbeat from now until my last- and even then I will not break this vow." A happy tear slid down her cheek.

"High Lord?" The priestess bid Rhysand come forward. He handed her the ring Cassian had chosen for Nesta with a bow of his head. The priestess said a prayer over it, then gave it to Cassian. This time he alone was responsible for remembering the vow.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today." Cassian slid a white-gold ring onto Nesta's finger. It held in its center one final red siphon that flared to life as it touched her skin.

Feyre brought forth the band Nesta had chosen for Cassian- one of silver engraved with Illyrian runes declaring him her mate. The priestess blessed it just as she had the other ring and gave it to Nesta.

She repeated Cassian's words perfectly as she slid the ring onto his finger, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask that you wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today."

The priestess raised her arms, "I hereby declare you married in the eyes of the gods of Illyrians, Humans, and Faerie. Your union- a bargain between souls to honor forever the oaths taken this day- shall be sealed with a kiss."

A tear slipped from Cassian's eye, in spite of the wild grin that spread across his face as he turned to Nesta and lifted the front of her veil.

"You're stuck with me now."

"You're stuck with me." Nesta laughed and tears slipped from her own eyes.

Cassian laughed and lifted Nesta into his arms to kiss her. She threw every last bit of will she possessed into an image- a form she wanted the physical manifestation of their bargain to appear in. There was a ripple of heat across her skin and Nesta felt Cassian smile against her mouth as the assembled crowd exploded into riotous cheers.

Cassian broke the kiss to smile at Feyre and Rhysand- now family in an entirely new way- before picking up his bride and spinning her in a wide circle, their lips joined once more.

He set her down, flashed a bratty grin at Azriel, and led his bride off the dais. They hurried down the aisle together, through the crowd of Illyrians both cheering and marveling at the couple who passed.

Seventeen red siphons burned and crackled with the sheer might of that angelic bride and warrior-groom.

As soon as they entered the bridal tent, Cassian swept Nesta into his arms and spun around yet again, "My wife."

"My husband." She couldn't smile broadly enough at the simple joy on her mate's face.

They kissed and Cassian laughed, "Wife. My wife." He simply held her, his smile utterly unchecked.

Nesta just stared into his hazel eyes, at the raw, unbridled happiness there, "Husband, can I stand?" Cassian made a face and lowered Nesta so that her feet were at last touching the ground. She did not release him though, she simply rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and savoring the scent of him. Nesta felt the bond their oaths created between them like something warm and beautiful and alive. She also felt the mating bond waiting, glowing ever so softly as though it knew it's time would soon come.

"We should get changed for the last ceremony." Nesta begrudgingly stepped away from Cassian and nodded to the back of the tent where a looser, lighter set of clothes waited for the fae ceremony, "Unless you want to dine in full armor."

Cassian pouted, looking for any excuse to skip the fae ceremony and leave with his bride then and there. He could see her determination in her eyes and released Nesta, flicking the tulle of her veil, "I never understood why human women wore those." He backed away from her, towards the changing area, "You know what, though? It's giving me ideas. Too bad you're taking it off before we mate…"

"Go, husband. We only have half an hour until the next ceremony." Nesta stuck her tongue out at him.

Cassian savored the sight of her in the white gown and veil one last time, "As you wish, wife."

While Rhys made speeches to the assembled Illyrians, faerie, and fae (mostly threats about what would happen if anyone started a brawl), Nesta and Cassian were to change into more comfortable clothes for the mating ceremony. They would be seated at the head of three tables in the center of the High Lords. Nesta would present Cassian with the Illyrian dish she'd set to cook that morning (which Mor was winnowing back to Velaris to retrieve), he would eat, and that was that.

The third ceremony was more of a reception than anything. The Illyrian Camp Lords would all attend along with the High Lords and Ladies, the Governors of Velaris, and Kier- seated as far from anyone consequential as possible. All assembled soldiers- and most of the guard from each Court- would be competing in various games against one another throughout the camp. That was when those mountains of alcohol would be unleashed.

Once the meal was done, Nesta and Cassian would be free to leave and finally activate that mating bond. Everyone else would watch or participate in the games.

While the Illyrians and other soldiers prepared for their fun, and those on the dais took a break on their way to the dining pavilion, Cassian and Nesta had time to catch their wits and simply be with one another. Feyre and Rhys made the couple swear binding oaths not to mate before the final ceremony- putting Cassian in a room full of males while fresh in the mating frenzy was nothing short of suicidal.

Mating was only allowed before the first ceremony as an out, or after the third. If they tried anything too close to mating between ceremonies, the penalty would be severe (which was as specific as Rhysand ever got).

Cassian reminded himself of that constantly as he let the ceremonial Illyrian leathers vanish back into the siphons on his hands. He pulled on white linen pants and an embroidered tunic, smiling at the memory of Nesta walking through the Illyrian army as that veil caught in the wind. 'Radiant' did not do it justice. It had looked like a goddess walked among the soldiers.

Neta was his heart, his soul, and his reason to smile- yet in that moment he'd realized more wholly than ever before that she was also his home, his future, and his light in any darkness.

When he stepped out of the dressing room, he also remembered that she was his bane.

She was sitting with her back to him, kneeling on a thick red rug with her veil arranged all around her-

-and beneath it she was utterly naked.

"I didn't want you getting too disappointed," Nesta said sweetly. She did not turn to face him.

"You are a monster," he rasped. Cassian knew that after three weeks away from her he couldn't stop himself from mating with her wholly if they made love. There was no more fending off the bond. Thanks to his promise to Rhys and Feyre, he also knew that mating had to wait.

Cassian didn't know where to look as he walked up slowly behind her- at the curve of her hips? The dimples at the base of her spine? At the way her back moved as she swayed? Or perhaps at the new and very permanent tattoo that marked their vows to one another upon the dais-

-a pair of Illyrian wings that spread from one shoulder to the other. Nesta's hips swayed as Cassian's hand touched her veil, tracing the line of the tattoo through it.

"Do you like the wings?" Nesta sighed.

"They're beautiful." He tore his eyes from the tattoo only when he noticed a soft, slick sound coming from her. Cassian stepped around Nesta and he stood in front of her at last.

"I can't help it. I know we promised, but I want you so badly." The movement of her hips continued, slow and rhythmic. He could smell her arousal.

Cassian watched the finger of Nesta's right hand move between her legs, parting her folds and dipping into her core. Another wave of scent hit him as she rubbed her wet fingers around her knot and leaned back a little, putting herself on display for her mate. Her left hand flicked and twisted a nipple on her perfect, pert breasts, and Cassian swallowed hard against the urge to run his mouth over them.

"I can't have you yet," Nesta whispered, staring up at him, "but I need you, and I can't wait." Her lust-glazed eyes were pleading.

Cassian knew exactly what she wanted.

He pulled his linen pants down to his ankles and threw aside his shirt. Along his ribs, where Nesta stroked his sides as they recovered from their lovemaking, were the marks of his vows. He'd chosen to mark his body in a place that would remind Nesta of their union- and the oaths he swore to her- every time they were joined.

Cassian stood erect already, and when he knelt down knee-to-knee with Nesta, she stopped her slow strokes until he held his palm out to her, pleading. She knew what he wanted. Nesta leaned forward and took two of Cassian's fingers in her mouth. He cursed and clenched his other hand in a fist, fighting the urge to take her then and there. Nesta smiled and released his fingers, her own body aching for him.

He kept his hand outstretched, fingers trembling, and she tipped forward once more, this time to spit onto his palm. Cassian immediately wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed her scent into the shaft. As close as they were to mating, even just that much of Nesta on his skin sent bolts of pure pleasure through his body.

As soon as he had control over himself, he nodded. Nesta slid her fingers back into her depths and Cassian matched the strokes of her hand with his own. She gasped as she stared into his eyes, her cheeks flush. Her hips rolled and they both took hold of the shadow of their mating bond.

The fingers inside Nesta began to feel thicker, longer. To Cassian the hand around his cock seemed to grow softer and more delicate. They joined just as they had before their first night together, when Nesta and Cassian stroked themselves in two very separate baths.

"You look… so beautiful…" Cassian groaned.

"It's for you," Nesta's voice was breathless as she ground her hips against her hand. "When the last ceremony is over I'm going to drag you out of that tent and-" those fingers that weren't quite hers anymore raked across a sensitive ridge of skin deep inside, "yes!"

Cassian stroked himself faster to match the pace of her fingers. His bride parted her legs further so that he could see how wet even thinking about having him was making her. Moisture dripped from her and she squeezed her breast hard.

"You're so deep," she gasped, those blue eyes still gazing into his, "so deep inside me. It feels so good, don't stop! I want more, I want it harder."

"Nesta," he moaned, wishing he could feel his lips on her wing but knowing that barely touching was part of this game, "you feel so soft, so tight. You're going to make me-"

"Come," she rose higher and began to ride her fingers in earnest. Cassian took one look as Nesta parted her folds again and his balls tightened. She raked her fingers across her knot and plunged them back into her body with a cry of pleasure, "Come for your wife."

Wife. That word completely wrecked him.

"Nesta!" Cassian's hips bucked and cum began to pump from his cock, thick and hot.

A rope hit Nesta's leg and she quickly scooped it up in her wet fingers, then plunged them inside once more.

She didn't even get the chance to shout his name. His cum made her burn wherever it touched, made her pleasure molten and overpowering. Her hips bucked. When another spray landed across her stomach she took that and swirled it around her knot.

Nesta screamed as Cassian let out another cry and leaned forward, still pumping furiously as more shot from him in a third, fourth, and fifth rope that landed across her folds. She quickly pushed it into her waiting body. Her own body shook and shuddered with the wave of ecstasy that ripped through her.

At last her climax ended and she slowed her fingers. Cassian was panting still when she fell back and gently rubbed her core, soothing her body while sparks of burning pleasure crackled between her legs. He licked his lips, staring now at those breasts he was not yet allowed to touch.

"I wish I could have you here and now." Nesta whispered. She parted her legs and continued to swirl her finger lightly around her entrance. She kept her arms close, pushing up her breasts to tease her husband.

"I want nothing more." Cassian abruptly shot forward and shoved Nesta's fingers away before latching his mouth onto her hips. He worked quickly, not trusting his will to hold out for more than a few seconds. Nesta cried out as Cassian's tongue darted into her, then lapped up her release, savoring the taste.

Nesta's eyes were glazed when he backed away, as quickly as he'd pounced. She whimpered when he stood and wiped his mouth with a shiver. Goosebumps rose across his body.

Cassian kicked off his linen pants and went to the refreshment table. He gathered two hand towels and wetted both with a silver pitcher. One he kept for himself, one he tossed to Nesta, "We still have to go to the other ceremony. I'd prefer not having everyone smell us." Cool as his words were, he still put a couple of ice cubes into his towel to wipe himself down.

Nesta resisted making a show of cleaning herself up. She was shaking just as badly as he was, and she hadn't even gotten the chance to taste him, "I wanted to lick you clean too."

"Neither of us would have been able to stop. After working so hard to put on that show, I thought you deserved to be cleaned."

"The reward would have been your cock in my-"

"Don't torture me, I don't want to stick my cock in that ice water but I will if you keep talking." Mirth danced in Cassian's eyes.

Nesta stood and finished wiping herself off. She tossed the towel into a bin by the table and smiled. Cassian retrieved his pants and came back to her, shirtless. He pulled her body against his, relishing not only the feeling of her naked breasts, but the simple act of holding her.

His friend. His lover. His wife. His mate.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"That was a nice way to take the edge off." She kissed him, a long, slow kiss that made her toes curl with delight. When the kiss ended, both were smiling, "Thank you for the siphons. Do they go on the second dress too?"

He nodded, "Nuala and Cerridwen sewed the clasps in themselves." He'd forgotten to look for the two in their place of honor at the very edge of the dais. On this day he and Nesta made it very clear they were to enjoy themselves, not serve anyone. Though, with so many gathered Cassian had no doubt Azriel had given the half-wraiths missions of their own.

"Help me get dressed." Nesta let Cassian pull the veil from her hair and arched her back just enough to make him swallow hard. He only tore his eyes away from her full breasts when she turned to fetch her second dress- and then those eyes monitored the curve of her ass as she walked away.

Nesta pulled a second white gown from behind a dressing curtain and threw it at Cassian, "When you're done, hand it to me without peaking. And put a shirt on."

While he set about finding Nesta's first dress and removing the siphons, she was in the dressing room pulling on delicate white underclothes she could hardly look at without blushing, especially once she started imagining how Cassian would react to them later.

Elain and Feyre had taken her to the lace store in Velaris to prepare for her mating night. While Nesta browsed with a beet-red face, Feyre and Elain also bought some delicates to wear for their males. They told her what to expect when the frenzy took hold- which was nothing short of mortifying coming from her baby sisters.

Still, Nesta filed their information away in her mind.

"All done, wife." Cassian's hand appeared through cloth flaps with her second gown- siphons and all.

"Thank you, husband." Nesta loved saying the word and knowing that for the rest of her life, that one word was his alone. He felt the same when he called her 'wife', and soon enough they would truly be able to add 'mate' to the list.

If they could just get through the third ceremony.

Nesta took the dress and, to punish him for the tongue between her legs, angled her chest so that his knuckles brushed across the flimsy lace covering her peaked nipple.

"Demon-witch!" he hissed and snatched his hand back. A moment later Nesta heard him curse again, this time from the direction of the refreshment table as he doused himself with cold water.

"I hope you took the pants off first," she laughed and finished dressing with a smile on her face.

Her second gown was more Court of Nightmares in the design, with Illyrian elements to bring it up to Nesta's standard of dress. Two long panels ran over her breasts and gathered at a wide, jeweled belt that crossed most of her torso. Layers upon layers of loose strips of tulle formed the skirt, but Nuala and Cerridwen had added a white underskirt that was invisible unless Nesta sat down. It ensure the strips of cloth did not shift to expose her bare legs. The top half of the dress, which initially left the center of her chest exposed down to her naval, had been filled with thick white gauze and a layer of Illyrian-made lace.

Overall it was looser than her first dress, cooler in the summer heat (not that Rhys would allow the pavilion to grow too warm), and matched Cassian's light tunic.

"I like this one too." Cassian grinned when Nesta stepped out at last.

"Good, you'll be taking it off me later."

Cassian closed his eyes and bit his lip. His brow furrowed in intense concentration, "Monster."

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I've already subjected myself to the pitcher, now I'm picturing Azriel naked. We don't have time for more fun and when you say stuff like that-"convincing his cock to stand down was a battle he had to win.

Nesta smiled innocently, "Well? What's he look like?"

"Small." Cassian opened his eyes, "We aren't going to the cabin by the way. Not the one I told you about at least."

"Why not?" Cassian had seemed so excited to take her to the mountain cabin the Inner Circle vacationed in. It was all he'd talked about as they planned the day (until it spiraled out of control).

"I went there three weeks ago to see if I needed to get anything ready- Feyre vandalized the place. Mor and Amren's eyes are painted above the door. They follow you…" the drawings were cute and added a sense of home to the cabin, but he was not mating Nesta under the watchful gaze of Amren and the female who took his virginity (to be fair, as he took hers). It was too strange. "Don't worry, I have somewhere else we can go."

"Eye free?"

"Eye free."

"Are you two ready yet?" Mor hit the side of the bridal tent and Cassian drew Nesta in for a quick kiss.

"We leave as soon as possible," she whispered, then headed out.

Mor, Azriel, Elain, Lucien, Amren, and Varian were waiting between the bridal and groom tents. The males had all changed into loose navy tunics with white pants to match Cassian's. The females wore lightweight navy versions of their gowns for the first ceremony. Nesta wasn't sure where they'd changed, but she appreciated the privacy it gave her with Cassian.

"The first Archeron to marry properly, of course it would be you." Elain laughed and wrapped her arms around her sister's neck, "And welcome to my family, brother." She released Nesta and embraced Cassian. The males were gathering around him, clapping him on the back as the females swarmed the bride.

Amren sniffed Nesta as she offered the next hug. When Nesta released her, she looked to Varian, "Not mated." There was a flurry of gold in the air as coins exchanged hands.

"STOP BETTING ON OUR MATING!" Cassian snapped.

"Mate and we'll find something else to bet on." Azriel accepted the most coins.

Drums started from somewhere deep in the city of tent and Mor shoved Cassian, "Go feed your wife. There's still time for her to come to her senses."

"Well, when you put it that way-" Cassian lunged for Nesta and hauled her up unceremoniously over one shoulder. She shouted in indignation as he jogged a few steps away from the laughing group.

"Put me down or I swear I will have a headache tonight and you can just suffer!" It was an empty threat, but Cassian had her on her feet faster than she thought he was capable of moving.

They all fell into a line with the females on the left and males to the right. Cassian was jostled by Azriel and Lucien, while Varian was distracted making eyes at Amren. At the edge of the dining tent, the males peeled off and made their entrance. Only Amren followed Varian inside, Azriel waited for Mor.

Mor paused at a table beside the entrance and pointed to two covered dishes, "Yours is on the right. I brought it over about ten minutes ago, but it's still hot. Elain, the one on the left is for you to give Lucien."

"Thank you so much for all your help." The dish had gone into an Illyrian tandoor before the females all winnowed into the bridal tent. Mor had offered to finish assembling it once it was cooked and bring it to the tent.

"Happy mating." Mor smiled brightly and followed Azriel into the dining tent.

When the males, Mor, and Amren were seated, a silence fell within the tent. Elain took the top off of her dish and entered ahead of her sister. She was mated already, and therefore didn't have to prepare the dish herself. Presenting hers to Lucien was more of a gesture than anything. If Feyre was not hosting as High Lady, she would have been expected to present food to Rhysand too (though it was more likely he would buck tradition and bring her food).

Nesta removed the cover from her dish. When the scent of chicken, rice, and herbs hit her she was suddenly (and audibly) reminded that she had not eaten that day. Mor's little candy had worn off and Nesta's stomach felt hollow. She held the dish tight and waited for the growling to stop before she entered the tent.

Everyone was standing, waiting for her. The Illyrian Camp Lords- on the eastern side of the tent- bowed as she passed. Kier and the Governors of Velaris were on the western side. At the back of the room, the High Lords stood with their High Ladies, Thesan with is husband, and Beron with Eris on one side and the Lady of Autumn on the other. She was simply watching Elain as she passed by and headed to Lucien on the opposite end of the table. Nephelle and her wife sat on the end beside Tamlin. They'd asked to sit there, instead of their original seat by Helion's side. The pair had nothing against Helion- he was one of Nephelle's favorite High Lords thanks to his strange humor- but Drakon and Miryam had asked them to size up Tamlin, if he was really trustworthy, and so they requested the seating change.

The head table was massive, long enough to seat everyone along one side. Cassian and Nesta would be in the middle with Lucien and Elain on one side, and Feyre and Rhys on the other. Mor and Azriel were seated between Viviane and Thesan, Amren was with Varian between Tarquin and Eris- a happy coincidence of placement that meant the terrifying little female would be a constant reminder to Beron and his ilk to behave themselves. On Elain's left was Helion, put beside the girl and her mate as a happy coincidence of seating (which Feyre was decidedly responsible for).

Nesta walked through the center of the room as everyone watched. Her spot at the table vanished to allow her to walk through the wood, then reappeared once she turned to face the assembled Camp Lords, High Lords, and Governors. The priestess, seated beside the Governor of the Palace of Thread and Jewels, stood as everyone save Cassian and Nesta sat down.

"I hereby declare and recognize the mating bond between these two souls. May the Cauldron bless you this day, and every day that follows." She bowed low.

Nesta handed the plate of food to Cassian, "If I remember correctly, makbus is your favorite?" A few of the friendlier Camp Lords were sniffing the air appreciatively. Cassian grinned and picked up a chunk of chicken. He chewed it slowly, smiling all the while. When he swallowed a cheer rose up from the High Lords, Governors, and many of the Camp Lords. Drums sounded outside as Cassian sat down- beginning the warrior games.

"I made you something too." Cassian nudged Nesta as Rhys waved a hand and food filled every table. In front of Nesta appeared a steaming plate of the same spicy Illyrian dish he'd made for her the night they first made love.

And so Nesta and Cassian ate, surrounded by their family, friends, and a few people they wouldn't mind seeing dead. The Camp Lord Cassian had cut so deeply had to leave early after his food abruptly stopped agreeing with him. He dashed out green-faced and clutching his stomach.

Cassian's chuckle when he fled earned an arched eyebrow from Nesta.

"It's unfortunate when concentrated senna powder finds its way into someone's food… Accidentally- of course." He said softly. "The only thing that makes it more tragic is when it's Azriel's own dear brother who is the sole victim."

Azriel's brother. One of the males who'd tortured the boy throughout his childhood and scarred his hands so horribly.

Nesta understood why Cassian drew more blood than necessary. She just wished she'd mirrored him, "You should have killed him."

Azriel leaned over far enough to make eye contact with Cassian from his end of the table. Cassian winked and Az stifled a snicker, "We poison him at every gathering. It's a treasured pastime, until Azriel says Rhys and I can kill him."

"I'd like to help with that." What his brother had done to a defenseless child already kept locked in a cage was disgusting.

"There is a line." Feyre took a sip of her wine.

After he and Elain had both cleaned their plates, Lucien stood. Tamlin was quietly eating at the far end of the high table, trying to make himself as unnoticed as possible under the piercing glares of several Camp Lords. Lucien kissed Elain on the forehead and went to greet his old friend.

Considering Tamlin's role in turning Nesta and Elain to High Fae, his abuse and neglect of Feyre, and his former alliance with Hybern (regardless of whose side he'd fought on in the end), all eyes were on Lucien when he held out a hand to shake Tamlin's.

No one but Rhysand, Feyre, and Lucien knew the truth of Tamlin's downfall- how he'd been driven mad trying to hide the fact that Amarantha was his mate. All the gathered High Lords knew was that something had changed between Tamlin and Night- the vitriol and animosity were gone when he looked at the High Lord and Lady.

"How are you, old friend?"

Tamlin accepted Lucien's hand and stood, "I am well- congratulations on your mating." He embraced Lucien warmly.

Helion took advantage of the distraction to whisper to Elain, "You know, seer?"

"I do."

He smiled gently, "I just wanted to tell you- I am proud to have such a lovely female as my daughter-in-law. He loves you with every fiber of his being, it makes me happy to know he is well care for." Helion patted her hand, then settled back into polite conversation with Rhysand as most attention shifted from Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris stood with a sneer on his face and started making vaguely rude conversation with Lucien, drawing and holding his father's attention. While her oldest provided distraction, the Lady of Autumn slipped out of her seat and was behind Elain in an instant. She avoided Helion's gaze, and he stiffened as soon as her scent washed over him.

"L-lady Elain?" She spoke quickly and just prayed Eris could keep his father distracted. Rhysand casually slipped out of his chair, kissed Feyre's cheek, and went to help needle Beron enough to hold his focus.

Elain rose from her seat and turned to the Lady of Autumn, "It is an honor to meet you at last," she curtseyed deeply.

"The honor is mine. I have not seen my son so happy in centuries." The Lady of Autumn looked over her shoulder, anxious, "I'm sorry, I don't have time to welcome you properly into my family, but I wanted to give you this," she pressed a heavy silk pouch into Elain's hand. "Those have been passed down from mother to daughter in my family for seven thousand years. You are my first daughter, so now they belong to you."

"Thank you, mother." Elain embraced her and then kissed the Lady's cheek.

She smiled warmly and the Lady of Autumn wiped a tear from her eye, "Bring him happiness, and make sure he brings you as much in return." She turned and dashed back to her end of the table, arriving just before Beron thought to look for her.

Nesta marked it all.

"What's the line to kill Beron look like?" she murmured to Feyre.

"Slightly shorter than the one for Azriel's brother, should I pencil you in?"

"Please."

Rhysand concluded his discussion with the males and accompanied Lucien back to their end of the table. While Lucien settled beside his mate and kissed her hand, Rhysand sighed, "We can only hope, for the Lady of Autumn's sake, that Eris strikes soon."

"Are you sure I can't kill Eris?" Cassian whispered.

"No killing Eris."

"Light mangling?"

"No mangling."

"Spoil sport." Cassian smiled to Nesta, hiding the nature of their little chat in case any curious eyes fell upon them. Openly discussing the murder of a High Lord and his heir would probably not be appreciated.

"Cassian, I hereby give you blanket permission to mangle anyone you think deserves it." Nesta patted his arm, "I trust your judgement."

"See? She loves me." Cassian stuck his tongue out at Rhys and tipped Nesta's chin up for a kiss. As their guests noticed, a cheer went up.

Rhysand had barred the guests from bringing mating gifts into the pavilion, but still a few odds and ends made their way to where Cassian and Nesta sat. Helion got up to speak with someone and an illustrated book of intimate tips and tricks just happened to tumble out of thin air into Cassian's lap. When Thesan went to offer polite congratulations to the happy couple, he left in his wake a bottomless pouch. Nesta peeked inside and found a cabinet's worth of luxurious soaps and bathing salts for her and Cassian to try. From Viviane's sleeve a small bundle fell into Nesta's lap- a bundle that contained fur-lined naughties from her favorite shop in Winter. Nesta accepted those with a shy grin.

Tarquin came over to formally raise the ban against Cassian entering the Summer Court (Nesta still did not know what building he destroyed) and when he shook Cassian's hand, two small vials dropped from his other sleeve into Nesta's hand. Eris went to Lucien with a sneer and whispered some unknown threat in his ear (in reality he simply asked Lucien to look angry for a few moments). He passed a card to Elain with his own attempt at civility in welcoming her to the Vanserra family. On his way back to an overly-pleased Beron, a pair of jeweled daggers found their way into Cassian's lap.

He inspected them under the table before passing one to Nesta, "Okay, only mangling if Mor says he needs it." Nesta slipped both daggers into Thesan's pouch, where she was stashing most of their secret gifts.

"Lord Helion! It is wonderful to see you again!" Nephelle called out loudly as she made her way over to him.

"Sorry, she's not the best at subtly drawing focus." Nephelle' wife passed Cassian the dinner-gift sent by Drakon and Miryam- another bundle of lingerie.

"Lady Archeron?" All conversation in the tent died when Tamlin approached. Even Nephelle stood a bit straighter, on alert. Any pretense of speaking with Helion ended.

Tamlin, the male who'd forced her youngest sister from their home, then raised the family from poverty. The male who'd sent Feyre away to save her, then watched her die trying to save him. The one who neglected Feyre until Rhysand could no longer stomach it, then sold his soul to force her back to his side. The only fae still alive Nesta held responsible for Hybern's raid on their home, the slaughter of her servants, and then nothing short of torture in that damned Cauldron. So what if he claimed he didn't know? His decisions put her on that path against her will.

He was a male of contradictions, a sin for every good deed, and Cassian took Nesta's hand in his as her entire body stiffened.

He shifted uncomfortably and looked from Nesta to Elain, then back again, "I wronged you both, more times and in more ways than I can count. I would like to offer you something- I would like to offer all Archeron sisters something."

Tamlin pulled three gold coins from his pocket and placed one on the table in front of Elain, Nesta, and Feyre, "Those are marks of debt, from me to you. All you have to do is throw one into a fountain or even just a puddle and you may ask any favor of Spring you need. There are no fae tricks of phrase, no loopholes or strings attached. It is an apology long overdue, and given with sincerity."

"Thank you, I accept this gift, and believe you will earn my forgiveness." Elain was the first to speak. Whatever she knew of the future, she clearly believed Tamlin was no threat.

"Thank you, Tamlin." Feyre picked up the coin. She would store hers in a pocket of space. There would never be any need for it, but the gesture was what she appreciated- and the public way in which he made it.

Nesta stared at the coin for a long time, knowing full well all attention in the room was upon her, "I- I don't know how I feel about you yet, High Lord." She said truthfully, "You saved my family once, then your priestess tried to damn us and killed many of our friends. But even then, because of your treason and your crimes against my youngest sister, I now sit beside this male as his mate… I accept this gift in the spirit it was given, and I will try to forgive you, but I can guarantee nothing."

Cassian was smiling at his mate with pride. He squeezed her hand beneath the table and sent a whisper of love through the bargain their vows created.

Tamlin nodded, "That is fair. Thank you, Lady Nesta. Happy Mating." He nodded his head to both Nesta and Cassian before returning to his seat, his ears red at all the attention.

Cassian and Nesta continued to chat with any who came to see them, and Mor, Amren, Elain, and Feyre all managed to slip bundles of lingerie into Nesta's lap. Thesan would never know how much embarrassment his little pouch saved, as it became the store-all for the gifts they were given. The true mating gifts would be given to Cassian and Nesta after they returned to Velaris, but at one point even the priestess managed to pass some herbs over to the couple, the uses of which they could only begin to guess.

"Has everyone now violated the 'no-gifts' rule?" Rhysand stood and looked around the room.

Silence fell, and Lord Devlon openly threw a parcel to Cassian, "Now we have, High Lord." Several fae laughed. Nesta added the parcel to the hoard in Thesan's bag.

"Good." Rhysand picked up his glass and raised it, with everyone following suit (even Beron), "Cassian, it is my distinct displeasure to know that you are now my brother not by choice, but by force." Cassian laughed and flipped him a rude gesture. "Nesta, we haven't known one another for long, but I am honored to have you and Elain as my sisters. May your mating be long, happy, and may the child beside you mature before the Cauldron grants you more." She laughed as that one earned another rude gesture from Cassian.

"To Nesta and Cassian!" The guests mirrored Feyre's call. She was not someone who made speeches as easily as Rhysand, and most of what she'd thought of he'd already used. Thief.

They all drank deeply from their wine glasses before Rhysand snapped his fingers and the table vanished in front of Cassian and Nesta, "Now, get out. You two have been stuck here long enough. And Cassian- you'd better hurry before she figures out how annoying you are."

"I don't know, Feyre mated with you even after she realized how obnoxious you are." Nesta said sweetly. Azriel and Mor stood to applaud her as the room erupted in both cheers and jeers.

She stood with Cassian and smiled brightly up at him. He lifted her in his arms and kissed her once more as he'd done on the dais. Rhysand clapped along with the others, laughing, as Cassian walked through the center of the room with Nesta's lips still against his. She waved farewell to her sisters and friends, but did not break contact with her mate.

It was time to go to Cassian's secret cabin.

All comments loved and cherished, part 2 coming soon!