A/N: I know there have been a few of you that requested Violet take care of Xaden when he's sick - but my brain just doesn't want to go that direction. None of what I've tried to write for it feels natural and the characters seem a bit out of…character. However - it's been poking at me to do a "Violet takes care of Xaden" idea again, so that's what this is. Set as an in-between for Chapter 58 of Iron Flame - after the sparring scene where they make peace and the Battle Brief scene where she figures out that the venin are waiting at the border. The calm before the storm, as it were.
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My vision blurs as the Old Lucerish on the page jumbles into an unreadable mess. I fight the rising edge of my power as frustration takes hold yet again, but I stop mid reach for the conduit as a cooling brush of shadow eases the tension in my mind.
"Everything okay? I'm about to meet with the Hydra, but I can get out of it if you need me to." It's our own little term for the three members of the Assembly that aren't on Team Sorrengail and Riorson.
"Everything's okay," I know that he knows I'm not telling the whole truth. Maybe he won't call me out on it.
"Full disclosure, Violence."
I sigh and close my eyes, leaning back in the chair and stretching my legs out in front of me.
Despite my words, I don't sound angry. I'm too tired to be angry. "I hate this journal. I hate this library. I hate Warrick and Lyra. I hate old languages. I hate that I can't figure this out. I would rather throw myself off Tairn's back into a rocky abyss instead of writing this same, useless translation one more gods damned time."
There. Honesty.
I smirk at the silence. Sometimes getting what you asked for isn't what you wanted at all, is it, Xaden?
"I love you."
Asshole.
It's the perfect response, and I'm smiling when I go back to work, lifting the quill to translate the same, useless sentence one more gods damned time. Ten minutes later, I'm almost reciting my rant when a wave of emotion slams into me across our bond. I've never felt this complex swirl of…everything. Not from him, before.
"Are you okay?" I'm not joking this time, but I feel his shields slam up to cut me off. Before I can get angry that he was the one to remind me of full disclosure, I feel them come down just as quickly.
It's like he still has to try and push against his habit to be strong and not burden anyone with things he thinks he can handle on his own.
I can't hear what's being said, but I can sense that it feels like a punch to his heart. He hasn't answered, but he hasn't shut me out. It's half of the deal, I suppose. Desperate to know, I reach out to Sgaeyl.
"What did they say to him that hurt like that?" I don't hold back the defensiveness and protectiveness in my tone and hope she feels enough of the same emotions to not shut me out in annoyance.
She growls, and though her vibrant blue doorway flares in my Archives, as I guessed, she doesn't want to have this conversation with me. "Nothing pleasant."
"Tell me."
"I am unsure what good that would do."
"Please?"
An extra sensation in her bond sizzles as it makes a wider pathway streaking through the bookshelves, and for a moment the quiet of the library shifts to the overwhelming silence that comes from being behind closed doors sound sealed by wards.
Suri glares at him with a fire in her eyes. "One would think you eager to rejoin Navarre for how you push to defend their borders, Xaden."
I feel his frustration and a healthy dose of my own rises to join in, not that it's needed. Suri pushes every button I have as often as possible when I'm asked to report to the Assembly, and I'm annoyed to see that she does the same to Xaden after all these years. The energy in the room is angry. A palpable fiery discontent waffling between the same old vocally aggressive and judgmental members and Aretia's heir apparent.
"We've always fought for those cast aside by Navarre. Why would this not include their own forgotten people?"
Hawk Nose Ulices grunts and folds his arms over his chest above his barrel of a stomach, the rider black stretched almost to its limit. "We're already strained as we seek to harbor Poromish citizens fleeing the actual terror of this continent. If Navarre wants to sacrifice their own people, why should we stick our necks before their swords?"
I feel a sting in my palm as Xaden slaps his hard and loud against the wood of the table, flaring outrage panging against my heart as I feel his want to simply do right by those that deserve to have someone fight for them.
"To think protecting those that require it is a weakness will lead us to ruin. How many times did we hear my father say that in this very hall, Ulices? What I am asking the Assembly to reconsider is -" he's interrupted.
Kylynn's cold voice grates on both our nerves. "To think you could be who your father was, Xaden, even repeating his eloquent words, changes nothing about the situation in which we find ourselves with Navarre. You've placed all of your faith and standing behind the five-foot-nothing daughter of your greatest enemy, and then come here with the audacity to ask this Assembly - your father's Assembly - to run to Navarre's aid at their request after all they've done - all they've ignored and wrought upon themselves."
The air is thick as each pair of eyes other than Kylynn's and I assume Xaden's divert from the verbal combatants.
She continues, though we all wish she wouldn't. "This isn't what you wanted to have in common with your father, Xaden. Fen's zeal lost us our cause, and you're following in every footstep we've begged you to avoid. This is why your mother left you both." Her final stinging slap across his soul, and I barely get my fingers around the conduit before my fury lashes raw energy into the metal disc. It hums and glows bright against the stack of books I'd pulled, and I can't help but pump the magic into it in an effort to take the edge off the burn of Tairn's power as it courses through my veins.
"Kylynn -" though it seems like Ulices would defend the heir apparent, he doesn't. But the surprise at her audacity is written on each creased and sun-damaged line of his face, and Suri isn't faring much better, but she's managed to hold onto more of her anger.
"You're dismissed," the Battle-Axe growls, and he needs no further encouragement before spinning on his heel, his shadows slamming open the doors of the chamber as the bond between Sgaeyl and me goes dark, returning me to the gentle and calm quiet of the library.
I'm left sitting in a veritable cacophony of emotions, with overprotectiveness at the forefront. I can still feel Xaden and his rage, sadness, and surprise, and it's a comfort to know he hasn't closed off the bond despite the fact that I know he probably wants to.
"Are you okay?" It's a stupid question, but I ask it anyway.
"No." The growl is what I expect, and nothing more follows.
I know he wants time, that he wants to fall back into his habit of lone-wolfing through the pain. Gods, his ability to lock away emotional pain is almost as good as mine handling the physical, I'm sure of it. I take time to find my center and at least think of what I could possibly say to him after all of that fear Kylynn threw in his face.
It took me a long time to realize the truth behind Felix's words - that Xaden's love for me and their poor reaction to it wasn't because I was a Sorrengail. Well…not completely. It was because of the power I had to wield him against them and the fear that brought that truth to the surface. Since then, I've taken Suri, Kylynn, and Ulices at face value for what they truly are - scared people that lost everything because they'd believed and trusted too strongly.
And they wouldn't make that mistake again.
Once the books were put away and Warrick's damned journal was tucked in the protective wrap and shoved in the bag, I sling it over my shoulder and leave into the chilled winter evening air making my way back up to Riorson House. Tossing the satchel onto the desk in our room, I grab our fur-lined flight jackets from the hook and drape them over my arm before pulling the door closed behind me. I follow the bond up and up, despite the fact that he's still moving. Only when I reach the top floor and climb my way out to access the rooftop and defensive turret wall do I realize that he's pacing.
I stay at the landing level a few feet below him and simply let as much calm as I can muster flow from me to him through the bond as he stalks back and forth along the stone wall, the mage light behind me in the alcove the only source that shines aside from the near full moon above the mountain range to the east. His shadows are a writhing living thing around his legs, and when he turns to where I can see his face, the angled lighting enhances the fury I see and makes me glad he's no longer my enemy wingleader, if he ever actually had been.
He can tell me to go, and I would. He could snap and demand the silence of his favorite perch and I wouldn't say a single word for as long as I stood here. As if he could sense my willingness to accept his rejection, a soft tendril of shadow brushes against my cheek, and I don't hide a small grin. I stay where I'm at, however, happy to move at his speed for all the times he's let me move at mine.
I slide my arms into the jacket I warmed with my body heat as the cold nips too deeply past my uniform, and on his next pass I simply step to the wall and hold it out for him to take. With no reluctance, which surprises me, he leans down and snags it, angrily pushing his arms through and roughly zipping it up to his chest.
"Sorry if I startled you with…everything."
Honesty. We decided. "Sgaeyl showed me. I'm…furious. And so very sorry."
He stops pacing facing away and sets his hands to his hips, and the deep breath he sucks in makes my lungs hurt just knowing how the frigid night-chilled winter air can burrow into my throat and chest like tiny shards of ice. But he thrives in the cold I've come to realize.
I go back to leaning against the wall, and the joy at finding my gloves tucked into the pockets of my flight jacket brings relief to my face as I slip them over my freezing digits. He hasn't resumed stalking or pacing, and the shadows have all but disappeared. I suppose that's a good sign?
"Do you think us pushing is the right thing to do?"
It's so rare when he doubts himself.
"I do. But…you know how far my opinion goes with the Assembly. I can't help but wonder if me disagreeing with you and them overhearing would get us everything we could ever want from that shitty threesome."
Xaden scoffs, though for a moment we both think that it's not a terrible idea.
"Their fear of you notwithstanding, maybe they're right."
"They're not." I'm quick to shut that line of thought down.
He turns and looks down at me, though I see the anger sliding away from him. "How do you know?"
"Innocent people are dead if they're right. So…they can't be."
He lets loose another heavy sigh, the billowing cloud of steam blocking him from my view for fractions of a moment until he gives up and moves to sit before extending his arm down to me. I step forward and he catches me around the waist to haul me up until I gain my own purchase on the stone. He doesn't let go, however, content to leave his arm draped around my back, warm hand resting against my hip as the heat of his body sinks into my own.
Long moments pass until he regains his sense of self, though I can still feel a glimmer of uncertainty along our bond and wonder how long it'll be there after Kylynn's harsh words.
Again, as if he knew my thoughts, "how did you do it? How did you thrive despite the things others said to you - about you - and not let them steal every ounce of confidence you had? How do you still do it?"
I think carefully and look out over a darkened, sleeping Aretia as the cold of winter bites at the tips of my ears and nose. Looking up at him with a soft knowing smile, I take two moments to study the perfect angles of his jaw when he doesn't meet my gaze. Reaching, I fold my gloved fingers through his bare ones sitting curled on his lap and seek to share my warmth with him.
"Sometimes words can be as sharp and deadly as any dagger, especially when they're wrapped in the truth."
The corner of his mouth ticks up and he arches his scarred brow though he still doesn't look down, still feeling defensive enough to try and hold his stern gaze outward over his city. "What tome in the Archives housed that kernel of gold?"
It's my turn to smile and shake my head. "No tome. A mention in a letter from someone occasionally wiser than me. Though, I shouldn't have told him that as it'll probably go to his head."
A hint of recognition flits across his beautiful face. "No."
"Yes," I counter. "You wrote that in your fifth letter to me. It was after the one I'd left you in Samara that asked how you were so good at selective truths."
"You," his throat bobs, and he finally turns to face me, and I catch for the first time the tear tracks from earlier on his cheeks frozen against his skin. "You memorized that line?"
I give in and reach up to brush the loose lock of his hair lying just above his eyebrow. "Xaden, I memorized every single one of your letters."
"No you didn't."
"How could I not?"
"Why?"
I chuckle light and low. "They were a part of you that I could keep - that I didn't have to share with anyone else. I didn't have to ask you for them and they weren't information I was learning last. It was as if you and I were finally speaking the same language."
I let the words warm him, and though he looks away at my hard honesty, I keep my eyes on him as long as he'll let me. Silence stretches on but the connection I feel is steadier than it had been when I found him, which brings me some relief.
"I still find it hard to believe that you memorized anything I wrote as if it was one of your precious history books." I know he's trying to joke, his tone light, but I also know he's telling the truth. He's too surprised to hide that he's feeling overwhelmed.
"My knowledge, training…everything I'd learned from Markham and my dad has been a carefully manicured, centuries-old series of lies and false narratives. Memorizing every word you wrote to me?" I pause and tilt to press a kiss to the side of his shoulder. "It was freeing compared to all that sudden weight. And it was real."
"I guess I am pretty eloquent when you're comparing me to Markham."
"Xaden, what those assholes have forgotten in their sadness is just how much like your father you are. Fen Riorson wasn't afraid to speak up and demand a better way for those beyond the wards, and I know you aren't either. Your fearlessness in the face of what could destroy everything you care about is one of the things I love the most about you."
His self-deprecating chuckle hurts my heart. "Fearlessness isn't going to get the Assembly to change their minds. Maybe this time I'm supposed to be listening to the cranky assholes. I mean…am I Navarrian or am I Tyrrish? I don't even think I know anymore. Even if their being right kills innocent people," he winces and I know that just saying that out loud hurt him just as much as Kylynn's backhanded dig earlier. "Maybe they're still right and we should do nothing next week."
I know he feels the shake of my head more than sees it, his eyes sweeping the snowy, moonlit countryside.
"You said you thought you'd end up fighting this war alone. That you were so surprised when Garrick and the others sided with you without any hesitation. Your words were, 'what have I done to earn such deep loyalty when all I've truly managed is to sign 107 children to potential death?'"
"Gods, you did memorize them."
"I never thought you actually needed me to answer that question. No one else's skin is covered in promises made from 107 people. And that's why you deserve the loyalty."
His sigh this time isn't full of frustration, but the softness of finally letting that frustration go. He squeezes my fingers still threaded through his and pulls my hand up to his chest. "One hundred and eight."
As if my heart hadn't already fallen, it tumbles in my chest as if it's grown wings.
"One hundred and eight," I whisper.
We sit quietly for a few long moments as the moon peaks overhead. Glistening drifts of snow surround the valley and an almost unnatural glow bathes the sleeping town in reflected light so much that details of empty flower boxes beneath window sills and covered merchant wagons are easily seen despite our vantage point and the fact that it's deep into nighttime. As much as I wish, my flight jacket isn't warming me much in the height of winter at this altitude.
My breath is curled steam against the chill when I speak, and I can see in my mind so clearly the carefully written words he'd penned so many months ago as he told me his favorite quote from his father - his reason for continuing the movement despite the risks.
"When self-righteous kings seek to destroy all that is good in the heart of the world, your duty becomes that of humanity," I see the rippling pain of loss move from his ticking jaw to the silver lining his eyes as he looks back down at me.
His watery voice joins mine, "over that of any one nation." He presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, a single tear slipping down to get lost in the stubble of his cheek.
Long moments later, his decadently carved mouth curves into that cocky grin that simultaneously makes me weak at the knees and ready to spar in the same breath. "Do you remember the rest?"
He knows damn well there's no way I could ever forget the rest of that letter and the words he'd burned onto my heart two seconds after I read it.
"Not because I'm as good as he was at speeches or making grand statements, but I'll add one caveat to this. My duty may extend to the greater good over any one nation, but know that I'd burn every nation to the ground if that greater good doesn't include having you at my side."
"I can't believe you memorized them." He doesn't pull away, though his voice is slightly awed.
I tilt just enough to brush his lips with mine, the temperature difference staggering. I have no idea how he isn't frozen - he's not human. However, the moment his hand slides to the back of my neck and his mouth caresses mine, a spark of his warmth travels through me to tingle at my fingertips. The kiss is slow and languid, and though the burning spark is there, it's tamped down by the need to connect and feel and not to light the tinders in lusty haste. He pulls back with a flick of his tongue against my lower lip, his nose bumping mine, and he chuckles a warm breath across my cheek.
"You're freezing," he grins and says against my lips.
"Well, you're the one that went outside."
We both seem to be reluctant when he separates and hops down, his arms pulling me to join as we make our way back to the warm interior. He's quiet, but the loop of his fingers through mine isn't too tight and the bond between us is calm. I can still sense his wariness and weariness, but these days, that's to be expected from those of us more in the know than others.
He seems lost in thought so I pay attention as we make our way down to the main floor and head for nowhere in particular, though this path does lead to our room. Perhaps a full day in bed is exactly what we both need, though some emergency will pull one of us no doubt.
Turning the empty hallway corner I stop mid step and his reaction is to follow my lead and my eyes as I fix my glare on Kylynn, the Assembly member standing before us in stoic stillness. Her hand rests on the pommel of the shortsword at her belt, though we all know she's quicker and deadlier with the battle axe on her back.
Awkwardly we stare, and the hardened woman keeps the stony demeanor as she glares me down, or at least tries to. The extra half step I took placing myself just ahead but not in front of Xaden isn't hard to see, and while I know she wouldn't much be affected by a bad attitude, I make sure to funnel every violent intention through my hazel eyes.
Kylynn clears her throat, a flush coming to her cheeks. "I…apologize. For earlier."
Silence. He stays silent. I don't want to risk looking up for his reaction, so I just wait and push down my want to answer with words that she deserves.
"Not necessary," his words are clipped, his tone strained. I immediately know he doesn't mean what he's said, but he also knows it's what's expected of him both as Aretia's heir apparent as well as a fellow member of the Assembly.
Kylynn looks like she wants to disagree with him, her natural state of being lately. She chooses instead a curt nod and makes to move past us with quick steps.
"I'll catch up," I whisper and jog to join up with the Assembly member as she moves lithely down the hallway.
"Be nice, Violence." It's all he says before moving off, but the thankfulness he sends my way puts a little more courage in my step. She isn't going to get off that lightly - not if I have any say in the matter.
"Kylynn," I call, and I see her shoulders stiffen before she stops, her head looking left and right as she determines that we're alone enough to turn and meet me head on. "Can I have a moment?"
"I have a hunch I know your threat already, girl. Must we do this?"
My grin is anything but friendly. "I'm not here to threaten you, though you might take what I have to say as one."
"Enlighten me, as you seem to think yourself smarter than any of us that have lived two or three of your lifetimes."
"That explains all the wrinkles," Andarna snarks in my ear and I have to hold back my appreciation of her comedic timing.
"I know what you're all afraid of, and it's not what he's asking…what helping Navarre would mean. It doesn't give you the right to use that fear to tear him down. Everything he's done is to live up to your expectations, and you should be more ashamed of how you spoke to him tonight than your apology suggested."
She seems to bristle when I suggest she's afraid and then goes into full defensive mode when I put her in her place. I only come up to her shoulder, I'm not of the Assembly, I'm not even a graduated cadet, but none of that stops me. Still, when she leans over, I know the intent is to intimidate. I ride the second largest dragon on the continent. My mother is General Lilith Sorrengail. This woman? Doesn't come close to something I find intimidating.
"Tell me, little girl, what we are afraid of."
"If we survive this war, if things go our way, there's a chance that he'll accept what you've been pushing onto him for years. Tyrrendor might become its own kingdom, and we all know the only way that Xaden would step into what you want him to be is to do it on his terms. That's what you're afraid of."
I don't expect her laugh. It's a wry, callous thing used to dismiss. "Why would I fear what was supposed to be Tyrrendor's destiny?"
I lean in. "On his terms means that he chooses his queen."
Her false jovial nature drops and the hard line of her mouth curls in disgust.
"Yeah. You don't have to like me, but I'll be damned if you don't eventually respect me. If you talk to him like that again, you'll meet my dragon." I turn on my heel and stalk away when her voice taunts, an echo in the empty hallway.
"Tairn has respected us for longer than you've been alive, Sorrengail."
Though she can't see it, I roll my eyes. "Andarna hasn't."
…