Authors note:

Well, here I am uploading my abomination to the world for once.

Please keep in mind I have the writing skills of a lemon, so don't expect anything spectacular... or good. I'm just doing this because I love Violet Evergarden (The series and the character) and just wanted to get an idea of mine out of my head, into words, and in front of the world to see and criticize

Criticism is more than welcome, just rip it to shreds. The busy schedule of a year 12 student, however, means uploads and any corrections to my mistakes will be... infrequent at best. And an inevitable rewrite down the road should be expected as well.

Anyways, enjoy, or don't

-Chapter 1, Where we are-

-14th of April 1920-

"Hey, Violet" a somewhat lanky soldier in winter gear with a very thick light grey scarf around his neck said as he walked towards a 14 year old girl in a set of winter gear that looked oversized on her. It was quite cute actually 'For once shitty logistics made my day better' the soldier thought. Violet's long blonde hair swayed in the wind as she sat at the edge of a cold, grey, concrete jetty sticking out from the nearby rocky beach, into the massive lake beyond, illuminated by a beautiful full moon.

"Corporal Winter Pine" the girl said in a rather deadpanned tone. The soldier chuckled at her tone, rather used to it after having fought and practically lived with her for a year. "It's getting rather cold, and since we're near a town with a market going on I thought I would get you something"

Winter sat next to her. He put down his helmet revealing his red hair and hazel eyes on the youthful face of a 17 year old boy, albeit one tainted by the horrors of trench warfare. "What is it?" Violet asked with as much interest in her voice as she could muster.

It was not that she lacked interest, its just the life she lived meant she could not express it in her voice. She hardly expressed anything after all. Winter pulled out a pair of grey coloured gloves from his pockets and unwrapped one of the two light grey coloured scarfs from his neck. "These" he said putting the gloves in her hands and wrapping the scarf around her neck. Bringing both ends together, throwing it over her side, looping the end through the middle, and wrapping it snuggly around her neck.

"...Corporal I already have some gloves and a scarf?" Violet asked perplexed as she put the gloves on. "True, you already had those. But I still wanted to give you something that I thought you could use, and not the pretty brooch you have" Winter said rubbing the back of his head with a pair of grey coloured gloves of his own. She noticed this and moved forward to get a look. Winter noticed her inquisitive look "... thought I might get a pair of my own while I was at it. Same colour as well. Matching with your pair, same situation with my scarf" Winter said tugging on it.

Violet was blank for a second before saying "thank you". She snuggled into the scarf and closed her eyes, enjoying its warmth. Winter sighed "...you have no idea how much that means to me" he said smiling but he said it with a peculiar tone. Violet did not know the feeling she got when he said it like that. She felt... not... happy with how he said that. He had been saying things that way more and more as the war went on, his once happy face growing more and more... drained... but this one was different.

"...Violet I've been reassigned" Winter said. Violets eyes immediately shot open and her head snapped at him. Winter flinched for a moment "w-what do you mean you've been reassigned?" Violet said, her voice somewhat raised. Winter recovered from his flinch and sighed. "There's an elite motorized brigade near Intense... I've been assigned to the guys delaying them" Winter said putting a hand on Violet's shoulder.

At the mention of the motorized brigade, Violet shuddered. They were the Galdarik's response to the storm tactics Leidenschaftlich had been using recently, responding to breaches rapidly. She had been surrounded once by them and it was not... pleasant.

Winter noticed and pulled her onto his lap. Normally whoever would try to do such a thing would have had their throat slit by her, or ripped out by her teeth but Winter was the only person aside from the major whom she trusted enough to touch her, and she had spent enough nights in dirty foxholes, learning about the many stars in the sky from him on this same lap to be comfortable with it. Even enjoying it.

"Don't worry, ill be fine! we're just delaying them, we won't fight them head on, and ill be with some elites myself! We even have some new equipment. We'll be fine and together again after the battle okay?" Winter said reassuring Violet. "promise?" she asked. "...promise. Now then! I got a new book from that market, read it on my way here. Should see the constellations it mentioned now, want me to tell you about them?" Winter asked as he pulled out a book and put it in Violet's hands. "Yes" she said, her mouth forming the beginnings of a smile.

Violet Evergarden's eyes shot open. She looked up and saw the bright and full moon, coming out from behind the clouds, its bright light shining through the train cabin window into her eyes. She sat up revealing her slightly dishevelled form. She had collapsed into this cabin as soon as she got in and began crying. Hard enough to cry herself to sleep.

Auto Memories Dolls, have to be ready to deal with emotionally demanding commissions. And in a world recovering from the Great Continental war that ended only 1 year ago, there were many heart wrenching stories.

This commission was to write a letter for a dying mother to her son, still missing from the war. She even asked Violet, if she could, not as an employee of CH postal, but as herself, to write a letter of her own to the missing son. The saddening memories of Ann, who has been alone in that manor for some time now flooded to Violet's mind, and came crashing out as she wrote that letter to that still missing son, pouring her very being into a letter that may never be sent, destined to rest on a shelf, gathering dust until it is eventually discarded.

She had tried to hold in the tears many times during that commission but couldn't.

How many of such circumstances had she created when she was fighting in the war? How many mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, daughters, nieces, nephews, and lovers had she taken someone from? Easily thousands. A number she was cursed to comprehend after sorting through machine gun ammo in dirty trenches dozens of times. Sure, this mother's son is on the side Violet fought for, but it still served as a perspective she could better understand the pain she caused from. A perspective that right now is causing her to quietly cry. It would be easier to bear in the proximity or company of her friends, but right now she only had herself and some items of comfort.

She went to feel the emerald brooch around her neck but found it covered by something, only the tactile feeling her hands provided signaled it was there. She looked down and saw a light grey scarf around her neck, lightly soaked in her tears.

Ever since she found out the major died she had been thinking of him more and more often. The mother's missing son also reminded her of him. And how he was still missing.

He never upheld his promise of meeting her after the battle of intense. She asked Claudia to use his connections to find him after she had talked to Gilbert's mother. She wanted to find something. Anything. A headstone, a reference, a whisper, the soldiers he was fighting with, even the name of the motorized brigade he was to delay.

Nothing. Just like with the mother who spent the years since the guns of the war stopped firing, to find her only child, the only family she had left. Violet had even gone to the supposed battleground but found nothing.

She brought up the scarf and put it against her face, feeling its softness.

Just like with the emerald brooch she had often used this scarf, and the gloves Winter had given her to find comfort. Snuggling or crying into them when she was alone and not in the company of her friends... her new family.

Family...

Gilbert... Winter... her... they had been like some sort of analogue of a family. "What would it have been like?" she had often wondered if she woke up to the two of them, instead of being alone in that hospital. Would she ever become a doll? Would she be better or worse off in regards to understanding herself? What would her relationship with them both be like? Would it remain familial, Gilbert remaining as her father figure and Winter her... brother... or change into something else? There was that one commission not to long ago Cattleya went on, where a girl was taken care of by a non-relative father figure and wanted a doll to write a love letter to him.

She looked back up to the sky, to the stars. No matter where they were in the war Winter always was able to calm down by looking at the beautiful stars, spending time with her to tell her about them. She had forgotten many names, it had been 2 and a half years since she last saw him, 1 since the war ended, but those she learned on her last day with them and in many other close memories stuck with her.

He could see these same stars as well, right now, Telsis was large but small enough that night shone across the entire continent for a single hour at the near the end of night for the eastern most parts of the continent. It was a nice thought, that he was looking at the same star as her right now.

"Winter... where are you?"

"...you know all of you will die if... we go through with this? there's a chance we all could"

"Yeah but we're fucked anyways and no... they're too vigilant. If any of us want to escape. To survive, some of us will have to stay behind keep, them distracted for a bit. Best chance for one of us to is if we all stay and one of us runs"

"Yeah, no one is coming for us... Ctrigallan government won't send men to die for some Liedenese in an occupied prison. And everyone is tired of fighting. Only thing we can do is run... or at least by time for one of us to"

"...but why me? some of you have families"

"...well... you did manage to keep up with her of all people. You have the best shot of getting far enough away from them before they finish us off..."

"...your forgetting winter, I'm a soldier not a camper or survivalists junkie"

"Oh shut up! you like the cold, and you caught the most rabbits in those trenches than any of us ever did. Combined"

"Not Ctrigallan brand cold... and I had a little... "help"... you all are sure you want me to go? to escape?"

""yeah""

Again and again, that conversation flashed in Winter's mind. The conversation that decided who lived and died. 7 Men sacrificing themselves for 1.

It wasn't fair. Not to either group. The 7 men dying so the one lucky one could live, albeit, burdening the knowledge that 7 men died so they could live, and having to shoulder the burden of making sure that sacrifice was worth it.

They could not outrun the better equipped, fed and acclimated nationalists. Especially in such deep snow and unforgivable conditions. But they could hold them off long enough for one of their number to have a chance to escape. It was only autumn after all, their escapee had a better chance against that than against winter.

One of the guards let off a shot of his bolty right before he was clobbered, alerting the other guards. With the constant patrols to and between each work group they only had a few minutes at best before the dog and ski squads were on top of them but that was shortened to even less than that once they heard the barks of guard dogs.

This left Winter to run. Alone. Thankfully he was damm good at running. They were right, he had spent over a year trying to catch up with death herself, the little blonde devil.

He half collapsed against a tree, panting hard, his misty breath looking like a factory's smoke stack. He had to keep going, he could not let his comrade's sacrifice be in vain. The distant cracks of gunfire told him that their last stand was still going, but the volume of fire was not as loud as it had been before now, even taking into account the kilometers of distance he put in. He was surprised with how well his body was holding up despite the shitty conditions of the last few months.

"H-have to keep going... they're dying for you-you fucking bastard". Behind him he could hear a fierce gunfight. They were doing good for 7 slightly starved, overworked and on occasion tortured soldiers with only 4 bolt actions between them against an entire company. They were elite for a reason. Unfortunately however the gunshots were less frequent than before.

Then the gunshots cut silent. Winter looked back over his shoulder, waiting for a few seconds to hear more... before running again, adrenalin flooding his body as a wave of deep dread overcame him. Minutes dragged on as he pushed his burning body forward.

They would count the bodies and realize a prisoner was missing. They were coming for him. The trees began to thin out and a snowy, pine filled tundra in the distance, and what appeared to be a drop only a few hundred metres away.

With one last burst of energy Winter dashed forward, instinctively afraid of wide open spaces like these. Who wouldn't be? After braving machine gun fire and artillery bombardments over no man's land, where a shallow hole was all that kept you from the divine?

Winter reached the edge and looked down. A 26 metre drop. He looked left and right for any safe way down. 'might just have to jump' he thought. The bottom was sloped, enough that it should break his fall enough for him to not break anything. Winter prepared himself, then he felt his right arm above the elbow scream in absolute, burning agony as a round meant for killing bears obliterated the area of impact. Winter let out a wail of agony that would make a man shiver as he plummeted to the snow below.

"Hit his right arm... we have to finish him off" a Nationalist said looking at his partner, a young man, prone in the snow and wielding a scoped bear rifle.

"That's the cliff you idiot, 30 metre drop, i don't care how thick the snow is, with how we're treating those Southerners, let alone the climate, the bleeding and what else, that man is as good as dead, no need to waste our time, just wish the wind didn't throw off my aim though, would have loved to see his torso burst open" he chuckled and his comrade joined him in laughing as they walked away.

Torso burst open or not, Winter was in abject agony as he got up from the snow. The 30 metre drop fucking hurt but he was alive and nothing was in the wrong place, except for his arm. The drop whilst painful was nothing compared to the pressure wave generated by a piece of heavy artillery... or a bombardment of them. He tried to get up only to realize he only had a bloody stump there, his lower right arm and elbow held in place by the tight and warm parka and a few strands of flesh and muscle. Oh god did it hurt. His gaze went back to the slope, all the way down to him was a noticeable trail of blood. Even under his arm was a small growing pool of it. He looked at it for a few moments before, shakily he got up. "need-a... tourniquet" he said to himself. But he had nothing on him except for one thing. It took a few moments for him to realize what he could use.

His left arm awkwardly reached into his parka, and into his prisoner jacket. His light grey glove felt around looking for something before he grabbed and pulled out a light grey sheep wool scarf. He looked at it for a moment, wondering if he should treat this sacred item that he was lucky to keep for all this time in the way he was about to before tying it excruciatingly tight around his upper right arm. "Come on Winter, you can do this" he half mumbled out before he began to shakily and slowly walk into the pine forest, his detached arm by his side, dangling as the torn parka held onto it.