Archive of Our Own

Aetos. He knows about the venin. Aetos believes Violet’s memories, that his own father set us up. Dain-fucking-Aetos is now on our side. Seeing every what-if as his intentions bounce around at such a speed through his mind is a challenge to ignore.

“Guess my last official act as wingleader will be to call a formation,” he states.

Before he rushes off to do so, he nods at Garrick and I, with an expression of determination. Then he looks at Violet and his face falls to what looks like a combination of longing and guilt.

Along my peripherals, I see her stiffly nod at him as his hand starts to reach towards her, intending to caress her bloodied face, the dipshit. Before I can even breathe a growl, his intentions shift to imagining me punching him in the jaw and he moves that hand to the pommel of his sword, sheathed at his hip, instead.

Both my arms are already wrapped around Violet’s torso. Perhaps a little more possessively than supportively at the moment, but I’m glad he didn't follow through on that first intention. My sanity is jumping everywhere. I would have gladly punched him. But would I have given up bearing Violet’s injuries to do so? Maybe not. I accept that part of me wants to hit him just for the sake of hitting fucking something. Varrish and those guards of his didn't suffer long enough.

Aetos departs without another word and I need to shake my head slightly to let go of that crazy turn of realities.

“Violet.” I shift my grip so I can face her, carefully keeping her steady with both hands at her waist and bend my knees so our eyes are level. She is why I'm here. Seeing the red around her dampened hazel eyes, from crying or screaming or lack of sleep, Aetos leaves my brain entirely. “For the sake of efficiency. So we can get you at least somewhat cleaned up before formation… May I carry you?”

Violet breaks my gaze and looks down, starting to take a deep breath. Well, she tries to take a deep breath. But stops prematurely, with a wince in her face that I can tell she’s trying to hide. Her ribs… No doubt, she’s also weighing that final comment from her mother. Damnit. But she finally looks back at me, eyes distant, and nods.

I lift Violet into my arms, as gently as I can, careful of her ribs. She winds her mobile arm around my shoulders and cradles the broken one against her chest. Watching her face, I see her trying to hide the pain again. Gods, she’s must hurt fucking everywhere. I bite down my need for further revenge as she tucks her forehead against my neck.

Varrish is dead.

Violet needs help.

I’m here for Violet.

Garrick leads the way back to the quadrant, with his sword in hand. I’m grateful that he and I have been a pair for so long we don’t need to discuss a plan. My arms are occupied. If we come across any more leadership or guards, intending to intercept us, Garrick will take care of them. He will reconvene with the others after Violet and I are safely behind the wards of her bedchamber.

I lower my center of gravity to reduce the bouncing of my steps for Violet but she is biting her lip in clear discomfort. Her head remains against my shoulder until we reach the riders quadrant and start passing others in black, all moving sporadically due to the mayhem Garrick and I created. She tries and fails to adjust herself to be more upright in my arms and directs her eyes forward, though not making eye contact with any rider, as they all obnoxiously gawk. Some have the audacity to fucking point.

I love and hate her pride. She was just tortured for five days straight. But, of course, she still feels the need to pretend she's fine. Everyone that sees her face knows she is not fine.

We make it to the dormitory without any hitches and Garrick starts hollering at riders milling about to fucking move so no one bumps Violet's legs while we snake through the narrow hallway. I somehow finagle my hand to twist the warded door knob and push it the rest of the way open with my foot. Garrick waits in the hallway until I turn around from within Violet's space to nod at him.

“Thank you, Garrick,” I say. Considering how much of my sanity he watched completely vanish these past five days, I hope he knows just how much sincerity I carry within those words.

Holy shit, we did it.

He nods back with his classic, cocky grin, and quickly departs while I shove the door closed with my foot. The moment the door is closed, Violet’s head drops to my shoulder again with a sigh. I look around her room and feel a vague uncertainty of what to do next. The weight of all my efforts and fears these past days has finally culminated to us now, actually together. Violet is alive, and we are alone and safe in her quiet, small room.

“Lay down or sit down?” I'm surprised at how tight my voice just became. The moment that door closed, something shifted. Words suddenly feel hard.

“Lay down,” she whispers against my collar.

I lay her on her bed as carefully as I can and Violet tries to reposition with her hap-hazard splint and flinches. My knees drop to the floor beside the bed and my fingers fly to her scabbed, purple and green face, gently. Even the ever changing colors in her eyes look injured. Fuck, I don’t want to leave her side ever again.

“Don’t move, Vi,” I practically beg her, my voice higher than usual.

I’m struggling to compartmentalize everything that has happened these last days, for me and for her. And all the gods damned pain she has suffered and is still suffering. That's the shift, I realize. Now that it’s just us, I want to hold her against my chest and fucking cry. She’s alive.

“I’m going to get fresh water and some towels. I’ll be right back.” I squeeze her non-splinted hand, gently. “Your room is warded. You are safe here. Just lie still and try to rest. I love you.”

I kiss her brow, as her eyes close, before forcing myself to trudge out, latching the warded door behind me, and head down the hall towards the bathing chambers on this floor. I pass dozens of riders in varying states of alertness and don’t give them any of my attention until Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer all turn the corner towards me. At least they look all right, considering they have been locked inside the RSC room for the past twenty-four hours.

Rhiannon sees me and books it into a run until she is right in front of me, blocking my path. She’s much taller than Violet but she still has to look up in order to stare me down.

“Is she out?” She asks.

“She’s out.”

“Is she okay?” Ridoc asks, catching up to his squad leader.

She was just tortured for days. No shit, she's not okay. “No.”

“Well then where is she? We should get her to the infirmary!” Ridoc exclaims.

This is keeping me away from Violet longer than I’d like. Instead of explaining why the infirmary could be the worst possible place for her, considering Nolon could be there or any leadership pulling strings with the healers, I decide to redirect. “Aetos is calling a formation. Get yourselves ready for it and you’ll see Violet there. I’ll bring her.”

I twist sideways and weave between the three of them for the next door, grabbing towels and filling a bowl with water as quickly as possible.

Returning to Violet's room, I see that, of course, she didn’t lay still like I asked. She’s sitting up on her bed, with her feet almost touching the floor. Beneath the bruises, her face looks more pallid than before. No doubt from the discomfort of moving.

I kneel in front of her and set the bowl and towels on her bedside table. Reaching up, I trace my fingers along her jaw and grasp gently behind her neck, swallowing loudly. All these bruises and cuts are a damn sight. She took so many fucking hits. I have to swallow again to keep from turning to the side and punching her desk.

“Came across your squad in the hallway just now.” I try to sound nonchalant.

Instantaneous hope followed by worry flashes across her eyes. “Are they okay?” Always thinking about others, she is.

“They’re fine. Not a mark on them.” I take her non-splinted fingers in my other hand.

Violet looks down, sighing with relief and tries to hide another flinch.

“Violet.” I practically growl, allowing just a portion of everything I'm feeling to come out. Varrish hurt her. So many fucking times.

Violet raises her eyes to mine and I see trepidation. Wariness.

Shit. Has she been broken so many times in that interrogation chamber that she’s afraid of me now too? I take a breath to reign it in, holding her gaze. I will never make her feel that way. Varrish did this to her. She needs me to be her safety.

“You have been so. Fucking. Brave.” I say low and slow. My voice shakes and I don't fight it. “For so many gods-damned days.” I stand tall on my knees before her and bring both of my hands to carefully cradle each side of her injured face, practically staring into her soul. Maybe she can even see in mine just how fucking relieved I am that she’s alive. “Don’t be brave for me.”

That did it. She stares back at me as her eyes immediately begin to water and her bottom lip trembles.

I gently kiss her purple temple. “I love you, Violet. Let's get you cleaned up.” Gods it is so freeing to finally fucking say it.

She nods, tears starting to fall. I wipe the first ones away before I begin tackling her crunchy flight jacket. No way in hell am I pulling the sleeves past her broken arm. Or is it a broken hand? Or both? I grab a dagger from my rib sheath and cut one sleeve free. Not like this jacket will get saved anyhow. No amount of washing is ever going to get all this blood out.

Violet’s blood.

Swallow.

Cut the other sleeve.

Violet gasps as I pull the cut-up jacket away from her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, pressing my lips gently to a greenish coloration adorning her neck.

Beneath her flight jacket she has a white shirt on. Well. It used to be white. That's what must have caused the gasp. The jacket tried to stick to her shirt which tried to stick to her skin.

Swallow.

Keep cutting.

I carefully peel the pieces of her blood-stained shirt away from where it sticks to a multitude of healing scabs.

Finally seeing the skin on her arms and her shoulders makes swallowing, practically breathing, impossible. Violet is trembling from the tears she is finally letting out and I’m pretty sure I’m shaking just as much. The breaks in her skin, the angry bruises surrounding the scabs, and the reopened, bloody ones that just tried to stick to her shirt…

Breathe.

Force a swallow.

Breathe again.

Violet needs me.

After wiping her fresh tears away, I wring out a towel but don't dare wipe it across her ransacked skin. Even my light dabs with the towel cause her to tense. “I’m sorry,” I beg, brushing my lips gently where the towel had stung.

“I know.” She whispers, amid a voice crack.

What does she know? Does she know how sorry I am that I didn’t get here sooner? That I left her alone in that courtyard instead of walking her safely back to her warded bedchamber with that damned book? That it should have been me, not her, in that cell?

Violet hardly speaks as I dab the dried and wet blood off her skin. She continues to cry quietly and flinch when my towel hits other angry spots. Each tear, I try to catch and trace away. Each flinch, I beg her forgiveness and press my lips to the hurt.

She’s alive. She’s alive. An hour ago I feared she could have been dead or nearly minutes from it.

Once I get at least a base layer of her blood cleaned away, I start stabilizing her breaks and joints. Violet stays quiet amid her tears and sniffles, except when directing me how to best wrap her broken hand and forearm.

Next I tackle her armor. It doesn't look like Varrish took a blade to her, thank gods, but I would not be surprised if it was this armor that kept her alive from many of his varietal hits. Mira saved her life yet again.

He better be fucking burning in hell right now.

Climbing behind Violet, onto the bed and I start to unlace her armor. Her body responds the most negatively yet to the change in pressure from the loosening corset. A couple squeaks make it past Violet's pinched lips. Shit, this armor must be keeping her broken ribs in place.

“Take it off?” I whisper as my trembling fingers pause, laces in hand. “Or keep it on for now?”

Violet takes a shallow breath, her chin dipped. “On for now,” she whispers.

“We’ll get it washed in Aretia, after Brennan mends you.” I try to sound positive as I lace her back up.

Her only reaction is a half-nod and another sigh. If only there were other menders, besides fucking Nolon, here at Basgiath. I need her to feel better now.

It is impossible to keep my hands steady as I help with her boots and pants. So many more scabs are reopening as I peel the material from her legs. Where she's not scabbed, her skin is a mixture of colorful bruises, some so dark they look black. The remaining spots are a sickening green. He must have included kicking in his technique too.

Getting her socks off, I see the ankle that must be the cause of her stumbling. It is swollen and a purple/green combination completely around. Varrish likely targeted it multiple times. No wonder she flinched when I tried to gently get the boot off. Gods, everything is hurting her.

I wish I knew what her mind was doing, she’s so damn quiet. No way in hell am I invading her privacy though. Not sure if I even could though, with whatever that serum is doing to block her connection with both me and her dragons.

I carefully clean the blood away, wrap her injured ankle and both knees tightly before getting clean clothes from her wardrobe to help her into them as she needs.

Once both laces of her boots are tied, Violet groans as she pushes her non-splinted hand against the mattress to stand in her fresh clothes. Not ready to let her go, I support her as she limp-shuffles over to the mirror and looks at herself, likely for the first time since she entered the interrogation chamber.

I stand behind her, hands lightly along her waist in case her strength gives out, and watch her compare the swollen knuckles and bruises on her fingers with those on her face. He even fucked up her fingers, the fucking monster.

But she's not crying anymore. More so, her slightly puffy eyes look analytical, as if she’s studying the bruises and finding patterns within them. Then her eyebrows scrunch together and she turns to limp back towards her bloody, cut-up flight jacket, left on the bed. I hover as she digs in the pockets and finds the vial the general claimed was the antidote.

“What do you think?” Violet asks me, voice cracking, eyes so tired.

“I think you know your mother better than I do.”

I pray to Zihnal that it isn't poison as Violet studies it for another moment and pops the stopper off. I can feel my arms ready to pick her up and run to the infirmary (fuck the risks) when Violet closes her eyes and stills after swallowing the liquid.

Then I feel it.

Our bond instantly solidifies and I sigh in relief at the return of finally feeling her completely once again. I slide my free hand behind her neck and gently touch my forehead against hers. Basking in our connection, feeling her as the soft, silver meadow, flowing in the wind of my mental hillside, like it’s caressing my skin.

Violet stays quiet. No doubt she is speaking with Tairn. Last I heard, Andarna still isn't awake yet. That's going to complicate matters.

“We have a plan,” Sgaeyl pops in. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet since I leapt off her spine. Either allowing me this moment or managing dragon affairs with what we are about to attempt.

We have about five more minutes before we need to head out for formation. Violet brushes her hair and some crisps of dirt and dried blood fall from it while I prepare her pack. Somehow, even with her hand injuries, she manages to tie it back in a low braid and I wear her pack as she slowly shuffles out into the dormitory hallway. I know better than to offer to carry her again with so many riders also heading to the courtyard. She does allow me to help her with walking. Because she knows how badly I need to keep touching her or because she truly can't walk?

Dain’s formation does not go as smoothly as he had likely hoped. Saw that coming from a mile away. I have to step in and Violet, feeling as rotten as she does, still chooses to argue the wording of my impromptu speech. Damn, I love her.

Watching Liam die through her memories doesn’t do me any favors though. Do all people that I get close to have to be hurt or killed? My father? Liam? Violet? It’s as if the gods have it out for me.

Formation breaks after Bodhi pulls a badass move with his signet against Professor Carr and Imogen brings Violet and me some sandwiches from the mess hall. I succeed in coercing her to sit in one of the leadership chairs on the dais to eat and rest with her pack while I organize cadet leaders and the lieutenants we brought with on how the flight is going to go. They all come to find me as it is clear I am not moving far from Violet nor the dais.

Every few minutes I feel the need to check back on how she’s doing, either visually and through our rejuvenated bond. Even though checking isn’t all that necessary; everyone who comes to talk with me is watching her too. I’ll see it from their expressions if her state changes for the worse or if she, stubbornly, tries to stand up on her own.

Violet’s squad packs quickly and sits with her on the dais as dragons start landing in the flight field. They appear to be talking quietly and I’m again grateful for how loyal they are to each other and to her.

“She will not be able to mount in her condition,” Tairn’s low grumble interrupts my conversation with Professor Devera.

“I’ll take her with me then.” I was already half planning on it.

“She needs to sleep-”

“No shit.” I can see her trying not to nod off from here.

“- and she cannot do that on Sgaeyl with you. Only if she is strapped in.”

“So what are you proposing?”

Tairn chooses not to answer. Fucking dragons....

Riders, with packs ready, make their way to the flight field and I climb back up the dais towards Violet, giving her squad a nod of gratitude and dismissal. My turn.

She blinks a small smile up at me, eyes tired but less defeated than before, and tries to stand. Sitting for almost an hour now, she is noticeably stiffer so I pull her up, carefully, and hold her steady by her waist.

“Tairn and I have been arguing,” Violet says casually, watching her squad head towards the flight field.

“Oh?” I'm pretty sure I can predict the topic.

“I want to fly on his back, as usual. But he doesn’t trust me to make the ascent.”

“He and I seem to agree on that.”

She shoots me a frustrated look and I throw her a you seriously think you can right now? look right back. At least her emotions seem to be doing better.

“Just this once Shadow Wielder,” Tairn grumbles as he lands loudly into the courtyard, shaking the dais chairs and podium. Good thing my hands were already stabilizing Violet. The remaining cadets scatter fast.

Violet gasps, “What?” I’m assuming she heard Tairn too.

Tairn doesn’t answer. His audible growl answers enough as he practically lays down on his stomach to become as level with the dais as possible. This is unheard of for any dragon in the Empyrean. Granted, when has Tairn ever followed Empyrean protocols? Violet appears to be as shocked into silence as I am.

“You mark a single one of my scales with your scruffy boots and I will remove you of that foot,” Tairn states matter-of-factly.

I still don’t dare move.

“Move now before I decide otherwise, human,” he commands.

Holding Violet steady at her waist and her non-splinted hand, we shuffle together onto Tairn's back.

Damn this dragon is huge. Obviously, I’ve known that since I bonded with Sgaeyl and met Tairn by proximity. But standing on his back… Some of his scales are bigger than I am in height. No wonder Violet struggled to keep her seat. The strongest riders in the quadrant would struggle too.

Violet holds my shoulders for balance as I kneel in front of her and keep her hips steady so she can shift her weight to get her legs into each strap. She tries to stifle her gasp as she angles her wrapped ankle to lay plain with Tairn’s scales. I tighten the buckles across her thighs so her broken hand doesn't have to strain.

Most riders have made it to the flight field but some are still rushing past, giving Tairn a wide birth in the courtyard. I don't care who might see as I gently grasp Violet's colorful face in both of my hands and hold her gaze.

“You’ll try to sleep on the flight, yes? It’s going to be a long one.” I cringe, thinking of her broken bones still needing to wait so many hours before they can be mended.

Violet nods into my hands and leans her forehead forward against mine. We stay still together, breathing each other in until Tairn interrupts.

“My back is not a destination for romance. If the Silver One is set for flight, then get off.” His voice promises violence.

I allow myself a half smile, kiss Violet’s scabbed lips and practically waltz back to the dais. Violet is alive. We’re leaving Basgiath and she will be safe with Tairn for the trip.

“Cocky ass,” Sgaeyl comments and I wink at her through our bond.

“A cocky ass who has now stood on two different dragons backs. How many humans can say they've done that?”

“Hmm, how about the human that you just strapped in, who actually bonded with two dragons?”

I roll my eyes. Of course I know how incredible Violet is. But that was still cool as shit to have been on the second largest dragon’s back of the whole Empyrean.

Tairn launches as I jog to the flight field where Sgaeyl waits alongside what must be Andarna. I hardly recognize her. She’s grown so much and there is no sign of gold anywhere on her anymore, all black. And she is fast asleep on some platform with chains raising up from each corner.

Before I can ask, Tairn's wings almost blow me over as he hovers from above and clips the chains into the center chest plate of his harness. I watch him shift the angle of his wings and muscles for Andarna and her platform to slowly rise, swinging, into the air.

Thank Dunne, he's so big, he can carry both Violet and Andarna.

Tairn turns in the air and starts flying south. Guess that's our signal to go. I run, mount Sgaeyl and hope that any rider stragglers’ dragons know where to go to catch up.

Surprisingly, Tairn gives up the lead to Sgaeyl, only to fly directly behind her. We are about two hundred dragons and just over one hundred riders. Garrick and Bodhi are on Tairn's flanks and all the remaining marked ones fly perimeter, as we discussed prior to departure.

Violet's squad flies below Tairn and the rest of fourth wing is above Tairn, Cath with Aetos at the head.

I mentally feel for Violet often during the first leg of the flight. Sometimes I sense her exhaustion and discomfort and sometimes there is nothing and I have to stifle my momentary panic before looking behind and confirming that she is asleep. Strapped in, up to her thighs with her upper body sprawled forward on top of Tairn's spine. Her temple rests on one of his gigantic scales. That can't be comfortable in the slightest. A testament to her exhaustion considering how strong these wind currents are whacking us all over the spines of our dragons.

We land for our first break and Violet stays asleep on top of Tairn. I lose track of how many people I see glance up at her with worry and concern in their eyes. Few actually come to ask me personally about Violet, primarily just her squad and some professors. My bond with her doesn't catch anything while she sleeps but at least she can get a respite from all the broken bones.

While she sleeps, I attempt to stroll casually within the vicinity of Tairn and pick up on as many intentions as I can. The recently bonded first years are excited and sore from this first ridiculously long flight on their newly bonded dragon's backs. Aaric is blending in among them well even though he still looks at me with flagrant distaste. Jesinia and her two other scribe cadets are nervous but already looking forward to the new information they can find in Aretia’s library. They are excited to compare the texts they know from the Archives with Tyrrendor’s point of view, not rephrased by Markham or his predecessors.

The second break we take, Violet is awake.

“Do you need to get down for a break?” I ask through our bond.

“The one perk of being so dehydrated, I guess. I can't bring myself to move and thank gods I don't have anything in me to need a break for.”

“Leave it to you to find a silver lining”

I see and feel Violet attempt a light chuckle before giving up mid-flinch. This is the longest flight we've ever taken to Aretia, for the sake of the riot's safety, but her injuries are weighing heavily on her, and she’s still trying to hide it.

Violet is awake as we finally approach my fathers house. As she awoke, I felt such discomfort and exhaustion I wouldn’t be surprised if she was crying on Tairn’s back. He better land as gently as physically possible.

Garrick and Bodhi will lead everyone else to the flight field to the southeast, as discussed. At least Violet won’t have an audience for dismounting. Except her brother. The guards must have actually done their job and alerted him to our approach.

I have half a mind to climb up Tairn’s leg to help Violet but he growls into my mind, "Don't even consider it, human, if you want to live. Be prepared. She has little strength left.” I can hear the sadness in Tairn’s voice despite the angry tone he prefers to use with me.

Somehow Violet gets the buckles free with one hand and her legs out of the straps. But watching her struggle towards Tairn’s shoulder, I see what he means. Everything about her body screams misery. Gods, I hope she lets me carry her again.

Tairn bends as far as he can considering Andarna’s harness and Violet slides down his front leg, attempting to stand after his claw but her legs give out. This is why I’m here.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper as I hold her up and turn us to face an angry Brennan. I've already noted that this is the second time I've brought Violet to Aretia, and both times she has been gravely injured.

Of course, Brennan has to voice it too. He tries to threaten me but Violet cuts in, in my defense, even as miserable as she likely is. My heart swells, yet guilt pangs too. Her being in this state is my fault.

And she still feels the need to tell her brother that she’s fine? What a fucking lie. He just saw her practically collapse.

He can’t stay mad at me for long though as the remainder of the riot flies overhead. We have a lot of explaining to do.

“We’ll tell you everything Brennan. But first, Violet needs to get inside and off her feet.” I hold my arms out to her as Brennan adjusts his careful grip around his sister for her to turn back towards me.

But she shakes her head at me and my waiting arms. “I want to move,” she says. “Being stuck on Tairn for those hours and hours. I need to move.”

“Violet,” I groan, ready to throw at her all the reasons she shouldn’t be walking.

“Will you help me?” She reaches her non-splinted arm out and touches my fingers. Just her touch has me dropping everything I was about to say. Gods, the power she has over me…

Brennan shifts so I can wrap my side flush with hers and walks slowly on Violet's other side, hands held ready in case she needs more support, or perhaps faints. I know I don’t need help in supporting her, but if it makes him feel useful… He’ll have a big enough job in mending her as it is.

The time it takes for Violet to shuffle-limp into the house, across the foyer and up the main stairs is enough time for me to fill Brennan in on the basics of the past week, and Violet pants through a couple additions of her own, details I hadn’t learned yet either. Like how Nolon tricked her into drinking the serum, in the courtyard, right after Sgaeyl and I had left her there.

Fuck. It truly was my fault.

We make it through the door of my, no, our bedchamber, if she’ll allow it, just as voices fill the front foyer with riders. Brennan stiffens but shuts the door behind us. Glad to see he is set on helping Violet first before managing that chaos. Garrick and the rest of the Assembly can take charge for a bit.

Violet hasn't shuffled farther than a couple steps into the room.

“Lay down or sit down?” I ask.

She gives me a small, exhausted smile, remembering from too many hours ago. “Sit down, for now please.”

Brennan sits in the armchair, looking serious while Violet leans against me as we sit together on, what I'm going to call, her side of the bed.

She looks at Brennan expectantly so I follow suit. I'm not nearly as familiar with mending as either of them are. Brennan sits with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped with his thumbs supporting his chin and pointer fingers up along his lips and nose. He stares at Violet unhappily and I can tell he is over the shock factor of her current, horrible state.

I lower my shields and same as always, his shields are up tight.

Violet sighs before breaking the silence, “Brennan, I spent the whole flight mentally preparing. There is no way around it.”

Mentally preparing?

“Take the tonic, Violet,” Brennan says glumly.

She started shaking her head before Brennan even finished.

“So you don’t have to feel it in the moment and you can wake up good as new.” Brennan presses on.

Violet keeps shaking her head and I keep listening, knowing that I’m clearly the least experienced in the room with mending and try to glean as much as I can. Brennan is starting to not only look unhappy but worried too.

“Please, Violet. For me. It's going to be me this time. I can’t stand putting you in any more pain than you’ve already been through.”

More pain?

“I don’t want to be stuck in sleep. If I can’t wake up, he’ll…”

Violet doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I know exactly what she doesn’t want to finish saying. She won’t be able to escape Varrish if she’s drugged into reliving it.

Finally I speak up, “What pain?”

Brennan looks at me, exasperated, as if I'd dare interrupt his argument with his sister. “When you saw me mend Violet's arm, after Resson, she was unconscious. Do you remember the sound from that mending?” He pauses to watch my memory hit and then nods, knowingly. “Now she’s awake to actually feel it. From my understanding, it's just as painful as the initial break.”

“It definitely is,” Violet says dismally.

“You, of all people, would know,” Brennan agrees unhappily.

I watch her with my brows furrowed. The snap of her forearm when Brennan mended it was loud. Like a sharp clap of percussive hands. Damn, and Violet is too afraid to sleep.

“Pain tonic then.” I fill the momentary silence and gently take Violet's uninjured hand.

Violet’s eyes shoot over to me. Determined, yet still nervous.

“You shouldn’t have to re-live any of this pain,” I say. Gently tracing my thumb along the top of her colorful palm.

“The pain tonic won’t numb her, Xaden. She’ll feel everything in the moment. It’ll just dampen the soreness after the bones snap back into place.” I'm not a fan of his word choice. Brennan is still unhappy but at least he’s not pushing her to be stuck in nightmares of Varrish.

Violet raises her chin, “I’ll take the pain tonic.”

Brennan squeezes Violet's hand and then turns on his strategist's brain. Violet gets instructions to bathe, eat and change while he grabs supplies and deals with the hundred-some cadets that just arrived. I protest, why can’t he mend her right away? Apparently the pain tonic and the mending is going to make her groggy and she will clearly not want to do anything else but sleep afterwards.

Brennan looks to me like I should go with him downstairs and I stare him down, silently daring him to ask me to leave Violet alone in this state. Smart man, he doesn’t actually put his expression to voice.

“And Violet, you need to get into something looser so I can actually see what I’m mending. I’ll send someone up with dinner for both of you. I’m assuming at the rate you’re moving, Vi, that you’ll be ready for me in an hour. I’ll be back.” He gently rests his hand on Violet’s shoulder before he departs and I help her limp into the connected bathing chamber.

Once I help her out of her initial layers of clothes, she asks for privacy and I kiss her temple before closing the door behind me. As I hear the water turn off and quiet splashes of water, I take a sweep throughout my bedchamber to make sure it is in the best state possible for Violet. Fresh sheets and nothing conspicuous that could spark her curiosity of my life before her, which I’d prefer to forget. Hopping quickly across the hall, I find fresh clothes for after her bath.

I changed myself and answered the door to receive two dinner trays before the bathing room door opened again and Violet emerged in the fresh sleeping clothes I had found for her. She lets me help her across the room to sit along the big window bench to eat. She seems pleased to be clean and eating but her body and skin are still in immense pain. Every way she moves and shifts is calculated and with continued flinches that she keeps trying to hide from me. Stubborn, stunning woman.

After eating, I can tell she’s exhausted yet nervous. Honestly, I’m not sure how I am still upright either. With too much to say and too tired to say it, we sit quietly along the window, as I carefully trace the bruises on her shoulders and arms, around the straps of her sleeping top.

“You’ve had bones mended before,” I say. It's not exactly a question. During her training last year she mentioned many different sprains and joint dislocations that had needed mending in her past.

“Too many to keep count.” Violet nods. Her non-splinted fingers fiddle restlessly with her soft shorts.

“What can I do?” I am not a fan of being the only one who doesn’t have prior knowledge in this process.

Violet leans slowly against my side, her forehead nuzzling my neck. “Hold me steady. And be prepared for screaming.” She tries to laugh the last statement off, but her breathing is shallowing and speeding up slightly. Godsdamnit. She’s typically not a screamer when it comes to pain unless it’s really bad. I move my hand away from Violet’s spine and direct it towards the door, putting up a sound shield.

Brennan returns with a case full of materials and instructs Violet to lie down. I go first. The best way to hold her steady would be if she is laying partially on me. Brennan helps Violet to lay down between my thighs so her head can rest against my stomach. I hold her non-splinted hand and rest the other at her shoulder for now, my own shoulders leaning up against the headboard.

While Brennan lays out his tools and the syringe for the pain tonic he asks, “Where should I tackle first?” As if this is a checkup visit to a doctor or something.

“Ribs,” Violet says shakily. Her voice has risen in pitch now too. “That way those won't add to the pain as I react to the other bones mending.”

She’s fucking logical in the face of her anxiety. She knows exactly what to expect and how to tackle this shit situation. I'm kicking myself for how naive I was to think Brennan's mending was going to be smooth sailing.

Brennan administers the pain tonic in her bruised bicep and I feel myself tense at the needle entering her skin, right where a dark purple bruise lies. Get it together, Xaden. This is about to get a fuck-of-a-lot worse than a needle.

The tonic takes effect in minutes and I can feel Violet nestle into my hips and her head rolling against my stomach. I turn my focus directly on her bruises and the splint on her forearm. I cannot get hard while she’s drugged, about to be in so much pain. And definitely not in front of her fucking brother.

Brennan directs my free hand to the top of her sternum, connecting with her collarbone. “Hold her steady,” he says to me.

I don’t want to hurt Violet. How much pressure should I actually use?

Brennan, knowing my face so well over these years, responds. “Her body is likely going to range from flinching to full out lurching off the bed. Make sure she stays as still as possible.”

“I'm right here you guys.” Violet’s words slur slightly and they sound more sing-song-esque. Similar to when I first left for Samara and she had been drinking with her squadmates.

“We know Violet,” Brennan says, gently. “Just making sure your boyfriend, here, doesn’t fuck this up.” He uses a joking tone with her, but looks at me sternly.

“He’s not my…” Seriously, Violet? “O wait, I guess, maybe heis.” She angles her head back to look at me upside down. “Hi.” She grins up at me. If I wasn’t so tense about what was coming and her face wasn’t covered in scabs and bruises, I would laugh at how ridiculous she looks.

“Hey, Vi. You ready?” I give her hand a squeeze to remind her what we’re doing.

“Yessur,” she mumbles and resettles her head.

Brennan brings a thick piece of leather to Violet’s mouth and she bites down. Then he moves his hands, carefully, along her right side, and under her arm. He takes a deep breath and says, “Remember to breathe, Violet,” before closing his eyes.

I’m able to count to three in my head before I hear three distinct snaps of bone, as fast as claps of thunder. The back of Violet’s head slams into my stomach and her right hand squeezes mine, hard. One of her feet kicks at my knee. Ow. But I now understand how hard I need to hold her down as her spine tries to arch into where I press at her collarbone.

All those facets were fucking horrible to witness on their own. But her scream…

Her scream, through the leather in between her teeth, felt like it tried to break my own ribs. This is likely the same scream she gave Varrish over and over, every time he hit her. Kicked her. Broke her bones. Gods. This is all my fault. I should have been the one caught. I should be the one with these cuts and broken bones. Not her.

“I’m sorry, Violet. I’m so sorry,” I sputter, caressing my fingers across the back of her palm. After her spine settles back against the mattress and my hips, I comb my fingers through her hair, gliding strands away from her face.

She’s panting through the leather in her teeth, but she appears to have physically settled. Pain tonic dulling the after effects, I presume.

“Xaden,” Brennan says firmly. I look up at him and his eyes direct my gaze to the mattress. It’s completely covered in shadows, cradling Violet and falling like a waterfall down the side of the bed at Brennan’s feet.

I swallow. “Right.” I settle my feet into Aretia’s hillside and work to disperse the shadows. My own breathing has hitched but I manage to get them back into their natural state despite my internal tension.

Brennan shoots me a questioning look. His shields are always up but this is a look I can read easily, even without my signet. Is that going to happen for each bone I mend?

I shrug my shoulders, attempting nonchalance as I squeeze Violet's hand and feel her breathing slowing back down too.

Brennan’s brow shines with sweat as he takes a deep breath. “All right Vi, now I think we should tackle your hips. They are all out of whack and, unfortunately, I’m thinking this one is going to be the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Jes do ih,” Violet bites around the leather, hand squeezing mine.

Brennan has me place my free hand at her navel this time with the same instructions to hold her steady. Now with a better understanding of what to expect, I feel more ready for it. I predict her hips are likely going to lurch even more than her ribs did.

Brennan puts a hand on either hip and nods at Violet before he breathes in and closes his eyes again.

He was right, this one was worse. It sounded like a damn rumble of thunder. I could feel it where she lay against my thighs and up through my own hips. Violet’s chin launches upwards as her skull crashes down into my gut. My hand feels like it will lose circulation within hers. How does she have that much strength in such a small hand? Every muscle of my body tenses to combat her hips from launching off the mattress. Damn, she’s gotten strong.

But her strength can’t camouflage or lessen her agony. This is a fucking wail, followed by whimpers as she attempts to settle. I look down and spot tears on her face. Shit, are those mine or hers? I wipe them off her cheeks, whispering, “Violet. Violet, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her face is still scrunched up, the thick scab on her lip has broken open, again, to more blood. I did this. She’s been hurt, and is being hurt again, because of me. Because I didn’t walk her back to her warded room. Because I’m a fucking idiot.

“Xaden.” Brennan pants, and I don’t need to look to know shadows have spread completely across the mattress, the floor, and are climbing the walls. I sniff loudly, and steal myself to reel them back in.

Violet's body has settled again, thanks to the tonic, but she keeps a death-grip on my hand.

Brennan gently grasps her splinted forearm. “I think I can do your arm and hand together. It's going to feel like a travelling sensation down your arm and to your fingertips. That sound okay?”

“Kee ohing,” Violet commands through the leather. Brennan unwraps the splint while I hold her upper arm steady.

This mend did look like it traveled from her elbow to her fingertips. Her voice started with a shriek at the initial crack but turned into a sob as her fingers flexed wide with audible and visible crackles within Brennan's hands.

I press my lips to her hair and whisper with a shaking voice, “I've got you. I've got you.”

Brennan takes the leather out of Violet’s mouth, looking nearly as unhappy as I feel. “I’m sorry Violet,” he says with regret, lacing his tone.

“I know.” Violet pants, her head falling heavily against my stomach. “Still better than months in slings and crutches”.

“Are there any other breaks?” Brennan asks while eyeing up the swollen bruise at her ankle.

“Not that I can tell, no.” Her eyes stay staring at the ceiling as tears finish falling down towards her ears.

“This ankle though…” Brennan grazes his fingers gently across the colored skin.

“It was broken a couple days ago but Nolon mended it.” I feel Violet flex to lift her head to look down at the ankle in question. I use the hand that is not going numb within Violet's to support her shoulders. “Badly, apparently.” I hear a frown in her voice as her head settles back on my stomach.

“All right. I’m going to start mending your skin and muscle tissue then. Tackling your ankle as the first step. Damn, Vi,” Brennan says, shaking his head and breathing deep. “You withstood so much. I’m so fucking angry that this happened to you but I'm also so proud of you.” He takes her newly mended free hand, that had been resting on my knee, and squeezes it gently. “Lets get you so you won’t have to move anymore after the mending is complete so you can go straight to sleep. Your skin is going to feel pretty sensitive for an hour or two.”

Violet releases my hand and I have to flex it a couple times as Brennan and I help her sit up so I can get out from under her. Once I’m out of the way, Brennan has the audacity to ask if she wants her own room. Shit, was I a fool for assuming that she’d want to stay here with me? I finally spoke my truth and Violet did say she loved me too, but what if…

I look straight to Violet. What is she going to say?

“No, I want to sleep here,” Violet says clearly. Did she burn through the pain tonic already?

To hide my relief and perhaps a bit of a smug smirk, I turn to pull the blankets free for Violet to lay down properly.

“Xaden, you’re not needed for this.” I hear Brennan say. “You can go down to the Assembly Chamber. Those who are here are waiting for you.”

“No.”

“This isn’t like after Resson, Xaden. We know she’s fine now. After I mend her skin, she’s just going to need to sleep. You’re needed-

“No.”

Refusing to relinquish my stance, I see Violet smile slightly to herself. Does my refusal to leave make her feel relieved?

Brennan catches Violet’s small smile and shakes his head. “You two are ridiculous. The assembly better not shoot the messenger for your stubbornness.”

I sit on the foot of the bed while Brennan first grasps Violet’s ankles, then her knees, then her hips, slowly working his magic on her skin. The bruises start to diminish, the swelling in her ankle goes down, and the scabs begin to close. Checking Violet's expression, this mending doesn’t come close to causing her pain like the bones did.

“What does it feel like?” I can’t help my curiosity, she seems comfortable enough but clearly not at ease.

“Like a brush I would use in the bath. Not soft but not painful either.” Her eyes are already starting to droop.

Brennan continues with her torso, shoulders, and the crusted scabs on her arms. Finally he gently presses his fingertips to her multi-colored face. The purple and green transition back to her pale complexion. And that angry scab that keeps breaking open on her lip is finally restored to her usual soft, slightly pink fullness.

I hadn't noticed the tension that had been squeezing tight in my ribs until it released at the sight of Violet's face becoming clear again. Has that tension been there since I left Basgiath with Warrick’s journal or since I saw Violet and her injuries?

By the time all the violent colors have completely disappeared from her face and whatever contusions were on her scalp, Violet has fallen asleep. Her breathing is already steady with a slight upturn of her lips. She looks absolutely beautiful as her face rolls gently to one side of the pillow and her fingers curl delicately next to her face.

Brennan silently shoo’s me off the foot of the bed so he can pull the blankets over Violet. Then he turns to start putting away his materials. I don't know what to do with myself while Violet sleeps in my bed and her brother hovers nearby so I readjust the blankets around her. At least it's giving me something to do with my hands rather than stare dumbstruck at her.

“Xaden.” Brennan beckons me towards the door before he leaves.

What now?

“She needs to sleep in order for the healing to complete itself.” Brennan stares at me. It’s way too similar of an expression that I’ve been getting from Mira these past weeks. Fucking Sorrengail siblings.

“Don’t… Wake her.” He continues, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t make her move. Don’t-”

“I won’t,” I bite out, glaring at him. Fucking brother speech. Granted, I am also too timid to say what I can tell he is avoiding saying. It never even crossed my mind until he brought it up. She’s fucking healing from being tortured, for Amari’s sake.

Brennan gives a nod of relief. He glances over at Violet’s sleeping form and looks back at me with a teasing smirk in his eyes. “It almost seemed like Violet handled the mending better than you did.”

“Fuck off,” I grumble and turn partially away from him to see Violet myself. Her braid is laying across my pillow and I’m already looking forward to the light citrus scent I’ll find there.

Brennan laughs quietly to himself. “It’s nice to see you two actually together.” He doesn’t need to know how truly recent that is for us. His expression changes back to serious. “She seems to trust you.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. I can already hear it in my own head and from his expression. Don’t fuck it up. Little does he know, I’ve been working for months to earn back her trust. I refuse to fuck up now.

“Good night, Xaden.” Brennan closes the door behind himself and I manually lock the door, wishing I could do a ward similar to what I had for Violet's dormitory.

Climbing into bed as quietly and gently as I can, Violet stirs. Damnit.

“Xaden…” She whispers, eyes still closed, and reaches for me with her fingers.

I lace my fingers with hers and sidle closer to her, softly laying our intertwined hands across her stomach. I carefully curl myself alongside her small stature. Not sure what she’s feeling since the mending and with whatever remains of the pain tonic.

“I’m here, Violet.”

“Stay…” she mumbles, half asleep

“I’m not going anywhere. You and me. I love you.”

“Hmm,” she seems to hum contentedly and shimmies herself closer against me.

When was the last time I actually, truly slept? For the first time in perhaps six days, I find myself comfortable, dare I say relaxed, and actually able to find sleep.

Violet is safe. She’s healed. She’s alive. She loves me. And we are home.

Is this what happiness feels like?