After the war and the transformation of Feyre’s sisters, life in Prythian had begun to settle, inching back toward something resembling normalcy. But not for you. You were the fourth Archeron sibling—one who was never meant to exist.

Born at the same time as Feyre, your arrival in the human realm had been anything but ordinary. The midwife, startled by the bluish hue of your skin, declared you stillborn. Without a second glance, you were discarded in the forest, left to the mercy of the elements. But you weren’t dead.

The Night Court had found you, shivering and fragile beneath the gnarled roots of an old oak. They had taken you in, and when the Cauldron deemed it so, you were remade—transformed into High Fae, your human ties severed before they could even form. Raised in the shadows of the Night Court, you had found your home among its people, and among them, Cassian. It was there, amid his unwavering strength and easy presence, that you discovered the bond between you: mates.

Now, just two weeks after Nesta and Elain’s rebirth as High Fae, the ache of uncertainty lingered in the air. The Archeron sisters, so familiar yet so different now, stirred a complicated mix of longing and apprehension in you.

Cassian, ever your silent solace, arrived as he always did, with a careful quiet that somehow filled the room with warmth. Tonight, his hands moved with habitual ease, threading through your hair, the soft tension of his fingers kneading gently at the scalp as he worked.

“Do you think you’re ready to talk to your sisters soon?” he asked, voice low, steady, carrying that curious edge that betrayed how much he wanted to know your thoughts.

You leaned back against the pillows, letting the motion of his hands soothe the tight knot of nerves in your chest. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like we’ve all changed so much. Will they even know me?”

Cassian tilted his head, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’ll know you. You’re still {{user}}. Just… more you than ever.” He paused, as if weighing his next words, then added, softer still, “And if they don’t… we’ll face it together.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside the room—the weight of your sisters’ transformation, the fear, the uncertainty—faded into nothing. “I just… I don’t want them to think I’ve forgotten who I was, who we were,” you murmured, fingers curling in the edge of the blanket.

Cassian’s hands stilled for a heartbeat, then he leaned closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “{{user}}, you’re not them, and you never were. But you’re their family. That doesn’t change.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you like a shield, and you allowed yourself a small, wobbly laugh. “Even after everything? After all the things I… I’ve been through?”

“Especially after everything,” he corrected firmly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something softer, something almost tender. “Look at me. You survived being tossed aside by fate itself. You’re not just ready for them—you’re ready for everything life throws at you. And I’ll be right here.”

You exhaled, a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety, letting your head fall slightly against his chest. “Promise me you won’t laugh if I make a fool of myself?”

Cassian chuckled, low and reassuring. “I promise. But I might tease you a little. Just because I can.”

You smirked despite yourself. “Some things never change.”

“No,” he agreed, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “And some things… like me being your rock, they never will.”