Chapter Text
Katya is out the door, whooping and leaping into Trixie’s arms as soon as she catches sight of her. Trixie drops what she had in her arms so that she’s ready to catch her, used to being met with her dearest friend’s enthusiasm the second she’s within distance of home.
The day before, Violet had woken up to Katya’s smiling face, and to bright chatter about how her favourite housemate would be back in the morrow. The morning had scarcely begun and it was all she could get Katya to talk about, such was her excitement. She let her indulge in it while she made something to give the returning members of the coven, to welcome them home.
Somewhere deep inside her, there was an impulse to spit in the dough of her tea cakes, but that’s not something one does to strangers. She resolved, instead, to let the famous Trixie offend her before engaging in childish behaviour. The tea cakes would also be shared with Shangela, to whom she bears no ill will, so it was best not tamper with them.
“These are absolutely divine!”
Violet smiles at Shangela, thanking her for her words. She turns back to study Trixie, who is deep in conversation with Katya.
She’s pretty. Violet has to admit it. Her features are soft, cheeks naturally pink, and her hair is the colour of sunshine. When she laughs, and she’s done so often thanks to Katya, Violet feels like the sound could very well carry over into the next kingdom and frighten the wildlife. There are little bluebirds fluttering around her, like living accessories, and though they are wholly unnecessary Violet acts impressed when Shangela points them out as her handiwork. She can feel herself go soft inside when one of them lands on the top of Katya’s head and nests there. Katya goes on, chatting and gesticulating as if she hasn’t got a small creature making a home on her head.
“She can’t feel it,” says Shangela. “It takes a lot of energy to make illusions feel as real as they look, so I didn’t bother with the birds. We get so busy on the road and I work on my tricks when we have time to rest, too. That can eat up all the juice I have in me for one day.”
“Did Trixie ask you to make them?” Violet says, wondering what kind of person would request such a thing.
Shangela laughs.
“Nah,” she says. “I call her Songbird, so I made some to follow her around. I take them away when she asks.”
Violet wrinkles her nose.
“So she doesn’t like them?”
“Oh, no, I love them.”
Trixie’s dirt brown eyes lock with hers.
“It can get a little hard to concentrate on delicate tasks when there are birds chirping around my head, that’s all.”
“But it’s worth it when she sings with them. Especially when it’s just the two of us rehearsing,” Shangela says, winking at Violet.
Violet glances between the two of them silently. Trixie continues to look at her, radiating serenity. Shangela reaches for another cake.
Katya smiles benignly at the three ladies sharing the table with her. Trixie’s hand rests casually on Katya’s.
“Katya tells me you’ve been a great help,” says Trixie.
Violet musters her considerable training in composure to help her in this trial.
“It’s the least I could do for someone who saved my life.”
Katya gasps.
“Oh, Violet, you don’t owe me anything!”
This is not the first time they’ve had this discussion. Violet sighs.
“I’ve decided that I do, Katya,” she says. “And even if I didn’t, I like to be useful. It’s been a challenge, but I am not afraid of challenges.”
She looks pointedly at Trixie while she says this. The corners of Trixie’s lips twitch, like she’s suppressing a laugh.
“You’re sweet,” Trixie says.
Violet scowls.
Trixie pulls her aside, later, to ask if she’d like to use her bedroom.
“I seldom sleep in it myself, even when I’m here,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye.
Good Lord , Violet thinks. Whose bed is she fixing to crawl into?
Her thoughts are interrupted by Trixie’s shrieking laughter.
“Come now,” she says, punctuating her words with mirthful wheezing. “You’re not obligated to take me up on my offer if it offends you so much!”
She composes herself before continuing.
“I just thought you might be more comfortable in your own space. I was told you didn’t like depriving Katya of hers, and since I never use my bedroom I thought you might like an option that would allow both of you to keep your privacy.”
Violet tilts her head upward, to look down her nose at Trixie as she responds. The effect is spoiled a little by Trixie not being any shorter than her.
“I’m very comfortable with my current arrangement, thank you.”
Trixie dares to clap a hand on her shoulder, and turns to leave. Violet can still hear that horrible laugh as she makes her way back to join the other women, who have gathered around the fire in the living room.
When she goes to bed, she realizes she hadn’t spared a single thought to her future as a ruler, to her true circumstances and the temporary nature of her stay among the witches, for all of that day. She’d been too busy dwelling on her distaste for Trixie, looking for fault in a woman she’d only just met with far more energy than she really needed to divert towards such a task.
It’s strangely freeing.
***
Trixie joins Katya outside in the morning chill, to keep her company during her exercises as she tends to do when she’s around. She carries two steaming mugs and some bread with her. She’s near enough that her calves are right in Katya’s line of sight. Bent over backwards into a human bridge, Katya gives her an upside down grin, holding her position as she approaches.
Trixie settles down on the grass, still keeping to where Katya can see her. She raises the extra cup she’s brought out for her, and as much as it softens her heart that she was thought of, she already choked down her daily cup of tea. She’ll still drink this one, it would be rude not to when Trixie took the trouble.
“Morning!” chirps Katya.
She springs back into an upright position, takes a moment to get used to the change, and drops down next to Trixie. She stretches her legs out in front of her, blows impatiently into the cup Trixie hands her so as to cool the hot liquid faster. She’d like to be done with it fast.
It’s a shame that they’re both so specialized, that a simple cooling spell is not the first idea that pops into their heads when dealing with an everyday problem like this.
Trixie frowns when she takes a sip of her drink.
“I gave you this, didn’t I?” she asks.
Katya confirms that yes, this was the blend Trixie had picked up for her last time she was away.
“I can’t believe you’ve been drinking it,” Trixie mutters. “I would have thrown it out.”
“It’s not that bad,” Katya lies, with a shrug. She continues with more honesty. “You were thinking about me when you bought it. I appreciated that.”
“Stop being such an angel, I just might fall in love with you. That would not be good for poor Shangie.”
Katya laughs, bright and loud, but it peters out too fast to seem comfortable. Trixie’s face falls a little, and she derails by proclaiming that she will throw the ghastly tea out herself, so that Katya won’t have to. The bread is broken up and they munch on it quietly.
“I don’t think Violet likes me very much,” Trixie says. “And I find it very sweet, that she doesn’t like me. She seems very attached to you.”
One of her birds decided to take the illusion of a swim in her teacup, and Katya had been entranced by it before Trixie’s words reclaimed her attention.
Katya frowns. “Is she being difficult? She’s very proud, I can try talking to her.”
Trixie giggles.
“I have my suspicions as to why I bother her so,” she says. “And it’s honestly quite charming to see her so flustered by my presence, what with you and I being so close.”
“I really do find it strange that Violet wouldn’t like you,” Katya mutters. “I thought you’d be good friends. You’re both so determined, and have such admirable qualities. Perhaps she needs time to get used to you.”
Trixie later has a chat of her own with the proud Miss Violet, to settle the matter between them. Sitting under the sun with Katya, though, she internally sighs at how blind a person can be, especially someone as clever as Katya. Forgetting her friend’s tendency to think lower of herself than others would, it strikes her that Katya cannot notice a pretty girl having a fit of jealousy over her.
Katya does take something away from their conversation, though, even if she wouldn’t flatter herself by thinking Violet could like her enough to wind up in such a state. Violet worries Katya almost as much as she makes her life easier with her company. Ever since she revealed her propensity for nightmares after having suffered them without complaint for weeks on end, Katya has worried that she might be hiding more troubles from her. It bothers her that there might be something troubling her, something she could help her with that she simply doesn’t trust her enough to share. She wishes they were closer, so that Violet could be more comfortable with letting her in.
Katya knows Violet’s secrets are hers to keep for as long as she sees fit, but she’s been greatly preoccupied with finding them out. Violet said that harbouring her posed no danger to any of them, but when Katya asked her about her past she wasn’t worried about something coming out of the woods to hurt them. The coven can protect itself. Valentina had seen to it that the forest itself would shield them from harm.
What concerns her is Violet’s safety. Ever since Jinkx put that protection spell on her, Katya has been afraid that something would come to find her, something hostile. If Violet wanted to leave, to go back to the palace so she could shine brighter than any of the other ladies there barring the princess, Katya would have to accept it. But she can’t bear the thought of having her come to harm, not under her watch.
She doesn’t trouble Violet with her thoughts. Asking her directly didn’t work, after all, and pressing on might simply vex her. Whatever mood Trixie detected in her seems to lift, and since Katya has never thought of Violet as an especially cheery young woman, it’s easy for her to assume that it had been just that, a mood. Still, she dusts off the house grimmoire to brush up on her transfiguration skills, so she can transform a pine cone into a small gift for Violet, to show she cares for her. The delight with which Violet accepts the little trinket she comes up with is priceless.
***
Every year in late autumn something rare and wonderful happens: all the witches of the cottage manage to be home at the same time. It’s a purposeful effort each of them makes to be together, and it happens at least twice a year. Because Trixie and Shangela like to be away through the winter, and Valentina goes into a non-negotiable deep sleep that cuts into the Winter Solstice celebrations anyway, family gatherings are best done prior to that.
Katya makes sure to steal a moment with Jinkx on the night of their last family dinner. It’s better to let Seers sleep as much as they need, but Jinkx had stipulated from the beginning that she would be very cross if she was not woken for their big family gatherings. It doesn’t hurt her to join them, but she is often in such a drowsy state that getting a coherent word out of her is difficult. As there’s no telling when she will be fully alert, Katya chooses to take her chances with her then anyway.
Max flickers in and out of sight next to her when she finds her, and Katya makes sure to acknowledge her presence before diving into it with Jinkx. Predictably, she doesn’t have to expend much effort into raising her subject of interest. After the customary greetings, Jinkx does the work for her in her own queer way.
“I know my methods were a little unorthodox,” she says, just as Katya sits down next to her. “But I hope that when the time comes, you can see my actions as a useful hint.”
Patience is essential when talking to Jinkx, everyone near and dear to her knows that by now. Katya went into this conversation knowing that she’d have to pry, and that it may still be in vain. Knowing all of this, she still finds it frustrating that her friend is like this.
“Are you able to tell me why?”
Jinkx shakes her head.
“I can tell you that what I did will not protect her from danger, not entirely. If you look into your heart, though, you will be able to make up for it. That’s the key.”
Katya groans in response as Jinkx lets out a yawn, muttering about the amount of cider she’s consumed, knowing full well how little it does for her ability to stay awake. She always has too much.
Katya wishes the cider would loosen her tongue a little more, but it doesn’t. Jinkx only gives her a cryptic remark about purple being a royal colour.
“Isn’t that something?”
Meanwhile, Violet sits with Valentina, enjoying drinks and conversation.
When she removes her glamour, Valentina looks so different that it startles Violet the first time she sees it. Her skin looks paper thin, vines criss-crossing underneath. There are little flowers along her arms, but they have all closed up for the winter and are retreating back into her skin. She says that each blossom represents a garden she has designed. She appears to be as much a plant as she is human, and the dull tiredness that plagues her from the moment the natural world begins to prepare for bed is too much for her to pretend otherwise.
“I shall go to sleep soon,” she says to Violet, with more gravitas than necessary. “I hope that you will still be with us in the spring. I shall miss you terribly if I wake up and see that you’ve left us.”
“Oh, I assure you I wouldn’t go anywhere without saying goodbye to you,” Violet responds. “I shouldn’t mind staying forever, to be frank.”
Valentina hums, to show she heard without having to exert herself too much.
“I heard something that might interest you,” Valentina says, with a yawn. “About the palace.”
“Oh?”
Violet listens intently as Valentina shares her intelligence, which she acquired from her latest client, who heard it from his wife, whose niece was, apparently, one of the crown princess’ ladies in waiting. Apparently, the princess’ ladies were sent home abruptly some months ago, and have yet to receive an invitation back to their post.
“The princess wasn’t exactly close to any of them,” Valentina says. “So, for a while, they figured they’d been replaced out of caprice. But, as you know, the aristocracy is such a small segment of society that they would have caught wind of new ladies being selected. And that hasn’t happened.”
“How queer,” Violet says. She doesn’t bother feigning surprise. The advantage of being fairly inexpressive on a regular basis is that there’s no need for theatrics in situations like this.
“What do you think happened?”
There’s a sudden alertness in Valentina’s eyes, though her posture remains every bit at rest.
Violet meets her gaze, placidly.
“Perhaps they want her to be forgotten,” she says, simply. “There’s no telling how the royals think. I know that much.”
***
Winter comes to the woods. Trixie and Shangela are gone as suddenly as they came, off to chase the sunshine. Violet, Katya, and Ginger once again constitute the most visible activity in the household. The greatest change that takes place is the coming of snow, which they first combat by hanging lights wherever they can, and then by other, livelier means.
Since the first snowfall, Katya has taken to wrapping herself and Violet up in warming charms, so she can march them both outside. She insists that taking the time to play in the snow like children is very important for their health and happiness in the darker months. Violet pretends to be angry about being forced to leave the house and instigates a snowball fight to pay her back. This does nothing to discourage Katya from dragging her out at least once a day, and it’s so much fun that Violet has a newfound love for the outdoors in winter.
January marks the seventh month since Violet started living among the witches, and Katya celebrates it by presenting her with a gift.
“Seven months is a very long time,” Katya says, seriously, when the time comes for Violet to receive it.
“I should think so,” Violet responds with equal solemnity, though she has to stifle a giggle.
Katya had interrupted her sweeping the kitchen to give her present, and subsequently demands that she close her eyes so she can be led to it. She takes her hand, so that she doesn’t trip.
When Violet opens her eyes, it takes her a moment to realize what she’s looking at. Katya had led her to the mantlepiece, where the candles are lined up. She can’t see what Katya was so excited to show her until she notices a new tealight, with her name painted onto the holder.
“That—That’s mine?” she gasps.
Katya nods, sporting a big smile. “Surprise!”
Violet watches her own little green flame, burning right next to the others and just as brightly.
“You’ve been here so long,” Katya says, softly. “And you’re so much a part of things around here, I thought it would be appropriate. Of course if you feel like it’s too presumptuous to imply that—“
Violet has no fancy words to express how happy she is, so she wraps Katya up in a hug.
“Thank you,” she says. She kisses the top of Katya’s head, because her lips are level with her temple. As she squeezes her close, Katya naturally ends up tucked into the crook of her neck.
“It’s perfect.”
Katya grows a little stiff in her arms, Violet lets her go. For some reason, Katya lingers by the mantlepiece for a moment after Violet leaves her, but she gets back to her sweeping with a little extra warmth in her.
Violet needs all the warmth she can get. She loathes to admit it, but Valentina’s palace gossip affected her. She knows how her father thinks; she’s studied the man all her life. He’s not refusing to make a statement about her whereabouts because he doesn’t love her, it’s a way to cover his bases for when she might need to make a sudden reappearance. It’s easier to imagine a recluse, no matter how unlikely a candidate for such a lifestyle, to suddenly emerge from seclusion than a dead girl rising from the grave. Knowing this should be enough to soothe her feelings.
Just because her father’s actions are not motivated from lack of love, though, does not mean he cares for her after all. It makes her feel like a child, to think about her parents not loving her and letting it get to her the way she has. It’s silly, but it stings.
Katya has no way of knowing how much having her own tealight means to Violet. She doesn’t want to go into it with her, though. If the palace wants to let her memory rot away, she’s compelled to do the same right back. If her exile lasts until the rest of her days, she will die with her secrets. No one around her has any need for them.
An incident occurs on a winter’s day, after Violet and Katya are done pelting each other with snowballs.
Katya decides that she wanted to make the cocoa that day, so Violet, left without her usual occupation, makes her way back to the bedroom to lie down for a moment. Something about the cold makes her feel like a lazy cat, and if she’s faced with an idle second she prefers to spend it with her feet propped up somewhere.
You must understand that to a girl as inexperienced in the ways of the natural world as Violet, what happens then would be unprecedented.
Lying back on the bed, she thinks about the way Katya’s cheeks got all rosy in the cold, her bright smile no match for the sun shining on the snow. She thinks about how she lays right in that bed with her at night, and of waking up with their foreheads almost touching some mornings. She doesn’t notice one of her hands wandering down the length of her front and pressing down, where her thoughts and the pressure mingle to create a sensation that has her starting bolt upright.
“Oh,” she breathes.
She manages to pull herself together before Katya calls her out for the cocoa, but when she emerges she’s so red in the face that Katya touches her forehead with the back of her hand, thinking she might be feverish. It makes her shiver.
Blissfully unaware, Katya won’t share her own experience of lying next to Violet at night with eyes wide open, breathing in and out, in and out, so that she might calm her own impertinent mind. She’s lying right beside her after all, she can’t go about making a scene. Violet is a deep sleeper, which makes it difficult if she has a scary dream Katya can’t snap her out of easily, but she still won’t risk taking her pleasure and waking her in the process.
With the easy manner in which they while the days away together, they appear to be the most intimate of friends. Inside, though, both of them feel a tantalizing distance that needs to be bridged. Yet the impulse is not enough to dispel the fear of the unknown, of the possibility that sharing their thoughts will damage the comfortable friendship they fell into so easily.
Ginger can barely spend five minutes in a room where she has to watch them exchange longing glances so secret, they don’t seem to realize they’re sending them. It’s so maddening, she now tends to retire to a private room, shouting as she goes about how the two of them are driving her up the goddamn wall.
***
They’re on the cusp of spring, but only just. Katya heads to the village with Ginger for one of her bi-monthly consultations. Violet brushes stray curls away from her face as they say their goodbyes. Ginger sighs deeply as their cheeks go pink and they refuse to catch on to their own affairs.
When Katya and Ginger have ventured so deep into the trees that she can no longer see them, Violet lingers at the doorway, breathing in the fresh morning air. She nips back inside for a moment, until she decides she’s feeling like going outside to start her day off after all. The house feels too empty without Katya.
There’s a circle in the ground where the grass is green, surrounding the cottage. Outside of it, the grass is a lot less brilliant. Violet stays on the green, weighing her options for outdoor recreation. For a while, she circles the cottage, struck by the idea to ask Valentina for a small plot where she can grow something. She keeps stealing glances at the trees surrounding her, though. She’s never really been told not to venture out into the woods, but something about the green feels safe, as if stepping away from it would invite danger.
What, though, could possibly be out to harm her now? She has no quarrel with the woods, nor any of its creatures.
She’s considering the risks of a walk in the trees when she notices a stranger approaching. As he comes nearer, she realizes he’s not a stranger at all.
“Papa?”
He stops a few steps from the edge of the green. Violet bridges the distance, confirming with her own eyes that she truly is standing before her father. Out of habit, she bows in respect of his presence.
“Come here, child,” he says, when she meets his eye.
Violet walks over the edge of the green and into her father’s arms. Her stomach is in knots as he leads her to a shaded area, and lays down his coat so she can sit on it. He’d produced a small bundle from his pocket before laying the coat down, and he presses that into her hands.
“It’s your favourite,” he says.
Violet nods as she accepts it, thanking him for his kindness. She glances back at the cottage. Perhaps she’s dreaming, and if she blinks with enough force she will rise from wherever she dozed off. When she tries it, she finds that she’s still sitting with her father, so she must assume that he is real.
“You look well,” the king says.
Violet studies him. He looks like he has aged since she last saw him, like he’s grown weary of some great trial. There’s a noticeable tension to his manners.
“You look well, too,” she says.
They don’t speak for a moment. It was never easy for Violet to hold casual conversation with her father, and she’s so bewildered by having him near her now that it only makes it harder.
“Has mother forgiven me?”
Violet meets her father’s gaze and holds it as she asks. She doesn’t care that he flinches a little. There’s a thrill in her gut when she finds herself thinking that if he were a truly strong king, he would never be thus affected by his own successor’s glare.
He sighs.
“No,” he says. “But she is well.”
Violet stiffly tells him how glad she is to hear that. He responds by gesturing to her bundle.
“You haven’t touched your sweet bun,” he remarks. “Have you lost your taste for them?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’m not in the mood to eat right now.”
Wanting to cut to the heart of his visit, she draws a deep breath.
“Why have you come, if not to bring me back?”
“Is it so unusual for a father to want to see his daughter?” he replies, affronted. She does not dignify that with an answer. He should know he doesn’t get to come to her and say that, not now.
“To tell you the truth,” he continues. “I did want to see how you were getting on. And I have glad tidings to share as well. Our family is to increase in size very shortly.”
Violet struggles to process his words, as he draws himself up the way he taught her to do if she wants to trick herself into feeling powerful.
“We are certain your mother is giving us a prince.”
A prince.
Violet has always known that if she ever had a little brother, he would automatically replace her as heir to the throne. She feels something loosening inside of her, and then floating away.
“Oh,” she says. “How glad you must be.”
He nods.
“I’m relieved,” Violet continues. “Truthfully, I’ve been very happy here. If mother never wants to see my face again, I should gladly stay hidden away in the woods forever. Especially now that the kingdom won’t need me after all.”
She watches him carefully for a reaction. It’s oddly unsatisfying to watch him just stare back, as if he hasn’t got the words to respond to her.
His eyes are just like hers. She’s never really noticed that before. It doesn’t make her feel any particular way to realize it. She just wants him to dignify her words with a response, or an excuse for his swift departure.
“Well, then,” Violet says, after an unbearably long silence. “I’ve received your message, and your gift.”
Turning his head away, the king once again admonishes Violet for not taking so much of a bite out of her bread.
“The cook was surprised when I asked him to prepare it,” he says.
“I suppose he was wondering who it was intended for,” she responds. “If I recall correctly, I was the only one who ever wanted to eat this, and the servants haven’t seen or heard from me in months. I can’t imagine you’ve told them anything about my whereabouts. You always said that if I ever did something that might be considered distasteful as queen, it would be my prerogative as a monarch to carry on without justifying my actions.”
Her father blanches at her words, and Violet thinks that’s quite decent of him to do.
“Violet,” he says. “I simply cannot leave until you’ve had a bite.”
“If I do so, will you leave?”
He opens his mouth as if to scold her, for being too direct. If he had, she might not have been able to stop herself from shouting at him. Instead, he shuts his mouth and nods his assent.
Knowing what it takes to be rid of him, she unwraps the bun and takes a careful bite. She watches him as she chews and swallows, priming herself to say her goodbyes.
She hardly has time to be surprised when everything goes dark. Inside, her flame begins to burn black.