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nomie-11 · 1 month ago

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Chapter 18 - The Scrutiny of a Sorrengail

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Flying for short distances, for Genevieve, is enjoyable. The feeling of the wind in her hair and the bite of the air is a comforting feeling. Flight maneuvers—if she's flying alone or with Xaden—are even more enjoyable.

The dips and dives that come with combat formations are a rush of adrenaline that never fails to send Genevieve into a state of exhilaration. The weightlessness, the sharp turns, and the roar of the wind in her ears make her feel alive in ways that nothing else can. It’s the closest she comes to forgetting everything.

But flying for long distances is a brutal reminder for everything going wrong for Genevieve.

The six hour flight for their prize for winning the Squad Battles might just kill her. The weeklong tour of the most out of the way outpost ever known to man would be fine, but the flight there and back would be the death of her.

“I’m pretty sure I’m dying.” Nadine bends over, bracing her hands on her knees.

“I feel that.” Violet says, every vertebra in her spine screaming as she stretches, and that hands that were freezing from flight only moments ago begin to sweat in her gloves.

Genevieve cracks her neck, trying to shake off the tension that’s settled into her bones from the extended flight. Her body aches in ways that are almost too familiar—the bite of cold in her extremities, the stiffness in her muscles, the gnawing exhaustion that feels like it’s leeching away her strength. The cold settles deep, despite being early april, reminding her of the toll her last burnout took, leaving her vulnerable in ways she hates to admit.

“You’re not dying,” she says to Nadine, though her voice lacks the usual bite. “But if you were, I’d say it’s a fitting prize for us winning Squad Battle.”

Nadine shoots her a half-hearted glare before turning to stretch out her back. Violet isn’t faring much better, Liam holds her hands as if he can channel his own body warmth into hers.

Gods, Genevieve groans. I miss Xaden.

“Welcome, cadets,” the commander says with a professional smile, interrupting Genevieve’s brooding. He folds his arms across the chest of his lightweight leathers, and he has the gaunt, tired rider look that any rider gets when they’ve been stationed at the border for too long. “I’m sure you’d all like to get settled and into something a little more appropriate for the climate. Then we’ll show you around Montserrat.”

Genevieve huffs, shifting her weight from one sore leg to another. It definitely is hotter here than it is at Basgiath, but she’s sure she’s not the only one still reeling from the cold winds above.

Rhiannon inhales sharply from beside her, her gaze sweeping over the mountains.

“You all right?” Violet asks, and Genevieve nods, her eyes asking Rhiannon the same question.

She nods as well. “Later.”

Later arrives in twelve minutes, where a still slightly cold Genevieve and a two very hot Rhiannon and Violet sit in the triple-occupancy barrack rooms. They’re sparsely furnished, only three beds, three wardrobes, and a single desk sit in the room.

Rhiannon is quiet the entire time they make their way through the bathing chamber, washing off the ride, and alarmingly silent as they dress in their summer leathers. It may only be April in Montserrat, but it feels like June.

“Are you going to tell us what’s up?” Genevieve asks, stowing her pack beneath the bed before making sure all of her daggers are safely sheathed at her hips and thighs.

Rhiannon’s hands tremble with what looks like nervous energy as she straps her swords to her back. “Do you know where we are?”

Violet mentally brings up a map. “We’re about two hundred miles from the coast–”

“My village is less than an hour away on foot.” Her eyes flicker between Genevieve and Violet with an unspoken plea,the emotion swirling in their dark-brown depths clogs Violet’s throat, and Genevieve’s eyes are solid with resolve.

“Ok, so we’re going.” Genevieve said firmly, her eyes meeting Violet’s with a strong gaze.

Violet blinks once, surprise evident on her features.

“What?” Genevieve asks, her own surprise at the soft disagreement now painted on her features. “You’re telling me that if you had a happy family, safe and waiting for you, an hour away, you wouldn’t go?”

“Ok,” She says, quickly agreeing. “Don’t tell anyone,” she whispers, even though it's just the three of them in the tiny room. “We have six days to figure it out and we will.”

“Let’s go, Second Squad!” Dain’s voice booms through the door, and the girls filter out, joining the others and Major Quade as they get a tour of the outpost.

The fortress itself is just four massive walls, filled with barracks and various chambers, turrets on each corner and a large, arched entrance that boasts a spiked portcullis that looks like it might fall at any second. On one end of the courtyard, there’s a stable with a blacksmith and armory for their company of infantry, and on the other is the dining hall.

“As you can see,” Major Quade tells them as they stand in the middle of the muddy courtyard. “We’re built for siege. In the event of an attack, we can feed and house everyone for an adequate amount of time.”

Ridoc mouths something at Violet that Genevieve misses, but she doesn’t miss the death glare Dain shoots at Violet afterwards. Awkward…

“As one of the eastern outposts, we have a full twelve riders stationed here. Three are out on patrol now, three wait, standing by in case they’re needed, and the other six are in various stages of rest,” Quade continues. The distinct roar of a dragon echoes off the stone walls. “That should be one of our patrols returning now,” Quade says, smiling like he wants the cadets to believe him, but can’t find the energy.

“So,” he says, clapping his hands together. “We’ll get you riders fed and put to bed, and then we’ll work on who you’ll be shadowing while you’re here.”

“Will we get to participate in any active scenarios?” Heaton asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Absolutely not!” Devera snaps.

“If you see combat, then I’ve failed as this being the safest place on the border to send you,” Quade answers. “But you get bonus points for enthusiasm. Third-year?” Heaton nods.

Quade turns slightly, and smiles at the three indistinct figures in rider black as they walk under the portcullis. “There they are now. Why don’t you three come and meet—”

“Violet?”

Genevieve freezes, she knows that voice.

In an instant, Violet is no longer beside her, but running full force at the familiar girl, who sweeps Violet up and hugs her like she’s never before.

“Mira,” Violet whispers, burying her face against her shoulder, and her eyes burn as she rests her hand on top of Violet’s braid as if committing every detail of her sister into her mind.

Mira pulls back just long enough to look Violet over, as if she’s checking for damage. “You’re all right.” She nods, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

Violet nods, and it’s true, she is alright. But just because she’s alive doesn’t mean she’s the same person Mira had left at the base of the turret. They both know it.

“Yeah,” she whispers, pulling back Violet into another hug. “You’re all right, Violet. You’re all right.”

“Are you?” Violet says, jerking back to study her. “Gods, Mira.”

“I’m fine,” she promises, then grins. “You didn’t die!”

Irrational, giddy laughter bubbles up from Violet. “I didn’t die, you’re not an only child!”

“Sorrengails are weird,” Genevieve states, drawing a bemused look from Liam who stands next to her, arms crossed over his chest.

“You have no idea,” Dain says in response, his lips curved into a small smile that makes Genevieve want to hurl.

“Shut up, Aetos!” Mira barks, throwing her arm over Violet’s shoulder. “Catch me up on everything, Violet.”

—--------------------------------------

It’s early evening two days later, just after dinner, when Violet, Genevieve and Rhiannon sneak out of their first-story window and drop to the ground. Mira’s out on patrol, and Genevieve knows this is their only chance.

“We’re on our way.” Genevieve calls out to Tairn, giving him a warning.

“Don’t get caught,” He warns in response.

“That’s the plan.” the three girls sneak along the battlement wall, turning the corner toward the field—

Genevieve runs so hard right into Mira that she bounces backwards.

“Shit!” Rhiannon hisses as she catches her.

“Of course you would be sneaking out,” Mira says, her voice pointed at Genevieve. “When I saw you with Violet I knew you were a bad influence on her,” then she turned to Violet. “You should be staying away from people like her. You know better.”

“Me?” Genevieve asked, her jaw nearly on the ground. “You’re the one who stuck an innocent nineteen year old girl into a dungeon! You were the last face I saw!”

Mira’s face freezes, her eyes narrowing as she stares at Genevieve. “I had no choice. You were a prisoner of war, Genevieve.”

Genevieve’s jaw tightens, anger flaring in her chest, but Violet steps between them, her voice low. “Mira, this isn’t the time. We’re just—”

“Just sneaking out,” Mira cuts her off, eyes still locked on genevieve. “And dragging my sister along for whatever you’re planning. What is it, revenge? A mission? Are you planning to kill Violet while you’re off in the villages?”

“If I wanted to kill your sister I would have done it ages ago,” Genevieve bites, her pulse quickening at the accusation, her jaw clenching so hard it aches. “I don’t know if you heard, but I basically taught your sister how to fight and I protected her in situations I could’ve stayed far away from. But because I don’t care about family names, unlike you, I saw Violet for who she was past being a Sorrengail and protected her.”

Mira’s eyes flash, her lips pressing into a tight line. “Don’t you dare act like you’re doing her some favor. You’re still the daughter of a traitor. You’ve always had your own motives.”

“I was a kid!” Genevieve snaps, fists clenched at her sides, her entire body trembling with the effort to hold back as vines creep up her legs. “I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose any of it!”

The tension between them is thick, and Violet shifts uneasily, her eyes darting between the two women as if trying to diffuse the situation.

“Mira, please,” Violet pleads, stepping closer to her sister. “We’re not doing anything dangerous. Rhiannon just wants to check on her family. That’s all.”

Mira doesn’t seem convinced. Her gaze hardens as she turns back to Genevieve, her voice as cold as the wind that had chilled Genevieve to the bone earlier. “And what do you get out of it, Hale? You always have an angle.”

Genevieve’s heart pounds, fury and frustration swirling inside of her. She meets Mira’s gaze without flinching. “Maybe I just want to help someone. Ever think of that? You don’t know me.”

There’s a flicker in Mira’s eyes, something that could be doubt, or maybe regret. It’s brief, and then she hardens again.

“I don’t trust you,” Mira says flatly.

“And I don’t care,” Genevieve shoots back. “I’m not doing this to prove anything to you, Sorrengail. I’m doing it for Rhiannon, and for her family. Because some of us still care about things like that.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Fuck me!” Genevieve exclaimed to Tairn, exasperatedly.

“Isn’t that what the wingleader is for?” He chuffs in response, laughing at her.

Mira cast a sidewards glare at Genevieve. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your natural life.”

“She means it,” Violet whispers.

“I believe it,” Rhiannon responds.

“You’re here two days and already breaking the rules,” Mira mutters. “Come this way, it’s quicker to cut down this path.”

An hour later, Mira and Violet are stretched out on the cushioned benches that flank both sides of Rhiannon’s sister Reagan’s house, watching Rhiannon rock her nephew by the fireplace, lost in conversation with her sister as he parents and brother-in-law look on from the nearby couch.

Genevieve sits alone on a chair, her body tense with what looks like… awkwardness. Violet has to stifle a laugh, and Mira knows that watching them reunite is worth everything.

Genevieve feels the warmth of the fire on her skin, but it does little to thaw the icy knot in her chest. Watching Rhiannon cradle her nephew stirs a deep, aching void she hasn’t allowed herself to dwell on in years. The joy on Rhiannon’s face, the way her sister embraces her with such ease and love—it reminds Genevieve of everything she’s lost, everything she can never get back.

Even Violet is sitting with her sister, laughing about something with her as if they were never separated. Genevieve is alone.

Her mind drifts to her mother. She could almost hear her voice, soft and comforting as she tucked Genevieve into bed on the cold winter nights in the mountains of Aretia. She used to hum lullabies when she thought Genevieve was asleep, a melody she’d give anything to hear again. A melody she hasn’t heard since the rebellion ended in flames, and her mother disappeared into the darkness.

And Quinn. Bright, caring Quinn who used to hold little Genevieve’s hand as they ran through the fields of flowers and forests, laughing as the wind whipped through their hair. She had said nothing would happen to her, that she would always be there. But she was gone, her death haunting Genevieve’s mind like a plague.

Her grandmother, though… everywhere Genevieve turned she saw her watching. The woman who raised her when her mother left and her father died. The one who knew every story, every song. Genevieve remembers the clear feeling of her strong hands braiding her hair, or rubbing in burn cream when her pale skin suffered the bite of the sun. But the sight of her face was slowly but surely disappearing from Genevieve's mind.

A lump rises in her throat, her chest tightening as she blinks back tears. More than anything, she wishes that she could be back with them again. Back in her grandma’s manor, feeling her mother’s embrace, hearing her sister’s laugh, smelling her grandmother’s floral perfume. But that world is gone, buried beneath rubble and blood.

Suddenly, Rhiannon is right in front of her.

“Do you want to hold him?”

Genevieve looks up, startled. Rhiannon is standing there with her nephew nestled securely in her arms, his tiny face soft and peaceful. For a moment, Genevieve’s heart stutters in her chest, the innocent warmth radiating from the baby pulling at the carefully constructed walls she built over the years. She opens her mouth, but no words come out.

“I don’t know if I should,” She finally manages, her voice hoarse, almost unfamiliar.

Rhiannon’s eyes soften, as if she can see right through Genevieve’s hesitance. “It’s okay. You’re in control now, you won’t break him.” She steps closer, her tone gentle but insistent.

Genevieve swallows hard, feeling everything crumble beneath her as her hands hover awkwardly in front of her before she relents, nodding slightly.

Rhiannon carefully transfers the sleeping baby into Genevieve’s arms, guiding her hands into position. The little bundle is light but warm, and the weight of him against her chest feels foreign, almost unreal. Genevieve stares down at the tiny face, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps, fully trusting that Genevieve will do no harm.

Everything fades. All she can see is the fragile life cradled in her arms. Something shifts inside her, a flicker of something long buried, something she thought was gone.

“Don’t even think about it,” Train’s voice booms in a familiar manner. “I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

Genevieve snorts, glancing at the baby in her arms and then shaking her head ever so slightly at Tairn’s comment. “Always so dramatic. I don’t even want kids,” she responds, but the humor fades quickly, replaced by the sudden rush of emotions that holding the child has stirred in her.

“Genevieve?” Rhiannon’s voice brings her back to the present. “Are you alright?”

Genevieve forces a nod, though her throat feels tight. She’s not alright. This moment—the warmth, the innocence, the tenderness—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. She misses her family, but above all, being apart from Xaden for three days now has started to be painful over her dragon’s bond.

She can feel all the tension Tairn is carrying, being apart from Sgaeyl has been hard on him. She misses Xaden, too.

Rhiannon notices the shift in Genevieve’s expression, the fleeting vulnerability she rarely allows herself to show. “You can hand him back if you want,” Rhiannon offers, her voice understanding.

Geneiveve quickly nods, handing the baby back to Rhiannon.

Her thoughts drift again—back to Xaden. The bond between the two of them had been growing steadily stronger with every intimate moment they shared, every word they exchanged, and the bond between their dragons was infinitely stronger. Being apart from him now, even for just a few days, was harder than she anticipated.

“I need some air,” She muttered, quickly exciting the house past Mira and Violet, who looked on in confusion.

The cool night air hits Genevieve’s face as she steps outside, leaning heavily against the rough wooden door. The warmth of the fireplace and the emotions swirling inside had been too much. She couldn’t breathe in there.

A shiver runs down her spine. Scanning the dimly lit fields beyond the house, her heart skips a beat. Of course he’s come to find her. There, in the shadows by the edge of the tree line, stands a figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair nearly falling into his eyes. Xaden.

He strides forward, closing the space between them in long, purposeful steps. His presence is magnetic, pulling her closer even before he reaches her. When he does, the air around them seems to shift, growing heavier with the unsaid.

“Xaden,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. The knot in her chest has loosened just from the sight of him.

He doesn’t speak, not at first. Instead, he reaches out, his hand slipping around her wrist, pulling her toward him in one smooth motion until she’s pressed against him, her head resting against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath her ear, a grounding rhythm, that calms the raging storm inside her.

“I missed you,” he finally says, his voice low and rough, as if the separation had been just as hard on him. She can’t find the words to explain how much she missed him, how the past few days without him had left her feeling raw and unsteady. So, instead of speaking, she leans up and kisses him, soft at first, then deeper, pouring all the emotions she couldn’t voice into the kiss.

He responds immediately, his hands tightening around her waist, pulling her even closer. The intensity of their bond flares between them, the connection humming with the energy of their dragons, of the unspoken feelings they both kept buried.

When they finally part, both breathing heavily, Xaden’s eyes darken. “Three days. We couldn’t make three days,” he mutters, his voice laced with frustration and need.

Genevieve sighs faintly, her fingers brushing his jaw. “No,” she agrees, her voice soft. “We can’t.”

They stand there for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other, the world fading into the background.

“Mira’s going to be so pissed,” Genevieve says softly, her voice lighter than before now that she’s back in his arms.

“I don’t care.”

Neither does she, as she pulls him down again, kissing him deeper and deeper against the darkness.

—----------------------------------------

Genevieve was right. Mira was not happy to find her little sister’s best friend, who happened to be the daughter of a disgraced traitor, kissing the son of the man who killed her older brother. Nor was she happy to have him on base with her, but that was not Genevieve’s issue.

“So all we do is wait for something to happen?” Ridoc asks as the group all sit around a table that runs the length of the briefing room. He’s leaning back in his chair and putting his boots on the end of the table, and Genevieve can practically see the fire in Mira’s eyes as she watches.

“Yes,” Mira says from the head of the table, then flicks her wrist and sends Ridoc flying backwards. “And keep your feet off the table.”

One of the Montserrat riders laughs, changing the markers on the large map that consumes the only stone wall in the curved, windowed room. They all sit in this room, in the highest turret in the outpost, offering unmatched views of the Esben mountain range around them.

Second Squad plus Xaden was split into two groups for the day. Rhiannon, Sawyer, Cianna, Nadine, and Heaton spent the morning with Devera in this room, studying the previous battles at the outpost, and are now out on patrol.

Dain, Ridoc, Liam, Quinn, Emery, Violet, and Genevieve spent the morning on a two-hour flight around the surrounding area, with one extra tagalong—Xaden. He’s been the worst kind of distraction since arriving last night. Dain won’t stop glaring, Mira keeps watch on his every move.

All Genevieve wants is one moment of peace with this man before he’s ripped away from her again. But Mira doesn’t trust her yet, so every second she spends awake, Mira spends watching her, and once Xaden joins them, her eyes are split between the two of them. The two traitors.

“Whatever Violet said to get Mira off of Liam’s ass she needs to say about me next.” Genevieve huffed, glancing over at Liam, who was holding Violet’s hand comfortably. Then she glanced at her own hand and then at Xaden’s hand, before bringing her’s into her lap. She was not ready to be public like that.

“Consider this your Battle Brief,” Mira continues, side-eyeing Ridoc as he scrambles back into his chair. “This morning was about a quarter of the patrol we’d normally fly, so regularly we’d just be getting back about now and reporting our findings to the commander. But for the sake of killing time, since we’re in this room as the reaction flight for this afternoon, let’s pretend we’d come across a newly fortified enemy outpost crossing our border” —she turns to the map and pins a small crimson flag near one of the peaks about two miles from the Cygnisen borderline— “here.”

“We’re supposed to pretend it just popped up overnight?” Emery asks, openly skeptical.

“For the sake of argument, third-year.” Mira narrows her eyes on him, and he sits up a little straighter.

“What would our objective be?” Mira glances around the table, noticeably skipping Xaden and glaring at Genevieve. Last night, she’d taken one look at the rebellion relic on his arm and walked by without saying a word. And she hadn’t spoken to Genevieve since she left Rhiannon’s house in a flurry. “Aetos?”

Dain startles from where he was glowering across the table at Xaden and turns to face the map. “What type of fortifications are there? Are we talking about a haphazard wooden structure? Or something more substantial?”

“Like they had time to build a fortress overnight,” Ridoc mutters. “It has to be wooden, right?”

“You are all so fucking literal,” Genevieve groans, rubbing her thumbs on her temples. This has all been headache inducing. “Just say that they occupied a keep that’s already established. Stone and all.”

“Thank you, Hale,” Mira says, although it sounds physically painful for the name and the gratitude to be leaving her lips in the same sentence.

“But the civilians didn’t call for help?” Quinn asks, scratching her pointed chin. “Protocol calls for a distress signal this far into the mountains. They should have lit their distress beacon, alerting patrolling riders, at which time the dragons on patrol would have told all available dragons in the area. Every rider in this room would have mounted first as the reaction force and the others would have been woken from their rests, allowing the riders to prevent the loss of the keep in the first place.”

Mira scoffs and braces her hands on the end of the table, staring them all down. “Everything you’re taught at Basgiath is theory. You analyze past attacks and learn those very… theoretical combat maneuvers. But things don’t always go to plan, so why don’t we talk about the things that can go sideways, so you’ll know what to do when they do, as opposed to arguing that the keep shouldn’t have fallen?”

Quinn shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“How many of you have been called out as third-years?” Mira stands straight, arms folding over her black leathers.

Emery and Xaden raise their hands, though Xaden’s is barely a gesture. Dain looks like his head is about to explode.

“That’s not true. We’re never called into service until graduation.”

Xaden presses his lips in a tight line and nods, giving Dain a sarcastic thumbs up.

“Yeah, all right.” Emery laughs. “Just wait until next year. I can’t count how many times we’re the ones sitting in these very rooms in the midland forts because their riders have been called to the front for an emergency.”

The color drains from Dain’s face.

“Now that’s settled.” Mira reaches under the table and pulls out a set of models, putting a six-inch stone keep in the center of the table. “Catch.” One by one she tosses painted wooden models of dragons at the group, keeping one for herself. “Pretend the other riders don’t exist, and we’re the only squad available to take back that keep. Think of the power in this room. Think of what each individual rider brings to the table and how you’d use those powers in unison to conquer your objective.”

“But they don’t teach that to first-years,” Liam says slowly from beside Violet, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand.

Mira glances at the whirls of magic on his wrist, but to Liam’s credit, he doesn’t tug his sleeve down. It’s hard for Genevieve to remember that their third-years are the first riders who will serve with the children of the leaders of the Tyrrish Uprising—an uprising that could have left borders defenseless. Everyone in the room has become accustomed to Liam, Imogen, Genevieve… even Xaden. But those in active service have never flown with anyone marked by a rebellion relic.

Mira’s glare is hard, but it’s interrupted by Violet clearing her throat and shooting a look at her older sister. Her eyes widen ever so slightly at the clear warning on Violet’s face to back off, and she directs her attention back to Liam.

“They might not teach you this battle strategy as first-years because you’re all too busy trying to stay on your dragons. You had your first taste of strategy during Squad Battle, and we are approaching May, which means War Games start soon, right?”

“Two weeks,” Dain answers.

“Good timing then. You’ll need all the experience you get if you’re planning on surviving.” She holds Violet haze for half a breath. “This kind of thinking will give your whole wing an advantage, since I guarantee your wingleader is already assessing every rider for their own abilities.”

Xaden flips his dragon model in his hands but remains silent. He hasn’t spoken a single word to Mira since he’s arrived.

“So let’s do this. Who’s in command?” She glances around the table. “And let’s pretend I don’t have three years of seniority over even the highest ranked of you.”

“Then I’m in command,” Dain answers confidently, straightening his back as if an improved posture gives the illusion of power.

“Our wingleader is here,” Liam argues, pointing at Xaden. “I’d say that puts him in command.”

“We can pretend I’m not here, for the sake of the exercise,” Xaden sets his model dragon on the table and leans back in his chair, draping his arm across the back of Genevieve's, eliciting a glare from Mira. “Give Aetos here the position we all know he craves.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Genevieve whispers, nudging him.

“You have even seen me start to be a dick.”

Genevieve freezes, her head immediately swiveling to face him. That was his voice… in her head.

He turns, the golden flecks dancing in his eyes. She can hear him laughing in her mind, his lips tilted up into a small smirk.

“You’re staring. It’s going to get awkward in about 30 seconds if you don’t stop.”

Her gaze snaps forward.

“How?” She hisses.

“The same way you talk to Sgaeyl and I talk to Tairn. We both knew we could feel something in each other's mind, I just had to test if we could actually talk. Though I’m starting to wish I tried it sooner, the look on your face is priceless.” He winks and turns back to the table.

“You’re the wingleader.” Every word out of Dain’s mouth is agonizing, spoken through gritted teeth.

“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Xaden shrugs. “But if it makes you feel better, for the purpose of war games, you’d be getting your orders from your section leader, Garrick Tavis, which he’d get from me. You’ll be carrying out your maneuvers as a squad for the good of the wing. Just pretend I’m another member of your squad and use me as you wish, Aetos.” Xaden folds his arms over his chest.

“So what have you heard through this… extension of our dragons’ bond?” she whispered harshly.

“Why are you even here?” Dain challenges. “No offense, sir, but we weren’t exactly expecting senior leadership on this trip.”

“You’re more than aware that Sgaeyl and Tairn are mated.”

“Three days!?” Dain fires back, leaning in. “You couldn’t make it three days?”

“Lay off it, Aetos,” Genevieve barks. “Just because you can’t keep Violet underneath your thumb anymore doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me. Or Xaden. It has nothing to do with him, that’s up to Tairn and Sgaeyl.”

“I’ve heard just how much you miss me when I’m gone,” Xaden says, his timing impeccable.

“Of course you rush to defend him.” Dain hurls a glare at Genevieve. “I know I’m not wrong when I say that General Sorrengail gave you orders to watch him and report suspicious activity, not fall in love with him.”

“How do you know about that!?” Genevieve’s mind is reeling. She only told Xaden about her mission, maybe she mentioned once to Violet in passing. Oh my gods, Violet! Genevieve’s eyes could cut through metal as she stared so hard at the silver-haired girl, that Violet could swear she was looking right at her soul.

“Great job remaining professional, Aetos.” Xaden scratches the relic on his neck, and Genevieve knows damn well that stupid mark doesn’t itch. “Really shows those leadership qualities to their best advantage.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Genevieve sneers, her fiery gaze not leaving Violet’s, but the words are obviously pointed towards Dain.

One of the riders down the table whistles low. “Do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? It would be faster.”

Liam smothers a laugh, but his shoulders shake.

“Enough!” Mira slams her hand on the table.

“Oh, come on, Sorrengail,” the rider down the table whines with a wide smile. Both Mira and Violet look his way with sharp eyes. “I mean… the older Sorrengail. This is the best entertainment we’ve had in ages.”

Violet shakes her head, and looks around the table. “Mira has the ability to extend the shield if the wards are down, so the first thing I would do is send her to scout the area with Teine. We need to know if we’re dealing with infantry or gryphon riders.”

“Good.” Mira moves her dragons closer to the castle. “Now let’s assume that there are gryphons.”

“You want to do your job?” Genevieve says, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “I mean, how you can forget you’re the squad leader is beyond me.”

His hands clenched around the dragon he holds as he rips his gaze from Genevieve. “Quinn, can you astral project from the back of your dragon?”

“Yes,” She answers.

“Then I would have you project into the fortress to check for signs of weakness,” Dain orders. “And then have you report back. Same with Liam. We’d use your farsightedness to see if you can locate where the gryphon riders are and if there are any traps.”

“Good. The weaknesses are the wooden gate,” Mira notes as Quinn and Liam move their dragons into position, “And the Navarrian citizens they have captive in the dungeons.”

“So much for blasting the whole place,” Ridoc says.

“You’re an air welder, right?” Dain asks Emery. “So you can shape your dragon’s flames, lead them through the occupied parts of the keep without killing civilians.”

“Yes,” Emery answers. “But I’d have to be in the keep.”

“Then we’ll get you into the keep.” Genevieve says firmly. “My signet works the best when I’m on the ground-”

Dain cuts her off.

“You want him to go in on foot and leave his dragon?”

“Why do you think we get all that hand-to-hand training? Or are you going to leave all those innocent people to die?” Mira flicks her wrist and Emery's dragon goes flying out of his hand and into hers. She puts it in the center of the keep. “The real question is, how do you get close enough without getting you killed, since I’m guessing the others will be busy fighting off the gryphons that launch once the fireworks start.”

Genevieve sits back, rolling her eyes.

“What’s your signet, Aetos?” Quinn asks.

“Above your pay grade,” Dain answers, glancing around the table and skipping over Xaden, then making the rounds again, finally sighing. “Any ideas?”

“Sure.” Violet picks up both Genevieve’s and Xaden’s dragons and shoves them toward the keep. The figurines hover above the structure, a testament to Violet’s superior ability to use her lesser magic in the absence of a signet. “You stop ignoring that you have two of the most powerful signets at your disposal, and ask the Shadow Wielder to black out the area so no one sees you land, and send her, a Life Weaver” —Violet’s eyes lock on Genevieve— “to take out the threat from the inside out.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mira agrees, but her words are clipped.

“You can cover all that?” Dain begrudgingly looks at Xaden.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Xaden retorts.

“Just wasn’t sure you could cover an area that—”

Xaden lifts a hand a few inches above the table, and shadows pour from underneath their seats, filling the room and turning dark as midnight in a blink. Genevieve’s heart jumps as her sight goes black, gripping her dagger tighter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” A ghost of a touch skims her cheek. “Want to put some vines up just to scare him?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Genevieve whispers, this is the first real time she’s been in his signet, and holy shit, it’s terrifying.

“Fuck me,” someone says.

“I can surround this entire outpost, but I think that might freak some people out,” Xaden says, and the shadows disappear, racing back under the table. Genevieve takes a deep breath, noting that everyone at the table, beside Emery and Imogen, who have no doubt seen that trick before, are slightly green.

Even Mira, who’s staring down at Xaden like he just took an attempt at her life.

“I hope you didn’t get any idea while we were in the dark there,” Xaden teases, and just like that, whatever fear Genevieve was harboring disappears into the air around her. He laughs, and she grits her teeth.

“Get him out of my head,” She throws at Tairn.

“You’ll get used to it,” He responds, not bothering to give her directions on how to reply.

“Is this normal with all mated pairs and their riders?”

“For some. It’s a great advantage in battle.”

“Well, it’s a pain in my ass right now.” She internally groans. Right now, she misses when he was far away and not in her head, listening to her every thought and concern. She thinks a lot, and it's nauseating to think he was listening to everything.

“Then shield him out the same way you do me—or start talking back,” Tairn grumbles. “You have the power to be a pain in the ass, too. You already are one to me.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to talk back at him?” She gives Xaden a heavy dose of side-eye, but he’s engrossed in the ongoing battle they’ve waged against an imaginary keep.

“Figure out which pathway into your mind is his. You only have two, narrow down which one is mine and which one is his.”

Oh joy. That should be easy.

The hypothetical operations are concluded, each of them using their powers to the best of their abilities, everyone except Violet. But when it’s time to take out the gryphons in air, Violet knows that she and Astrape trump everyone except Genevieve and Tairn.

“Good job,” Mira says, glancing at her pocket watch. “Aetos, Riorson, and Sorrengail, I want to see you in the hallway. The rest of you are dismissed.”

The rest of the squad rises, chairs scraping the stone floor as they file out of the room. Genevieve stays seated for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she watches Xaden, Dain, and Violet file out of the door behind Mira.

“Come on, Genevieve.” Liam’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, and she looks up to see him standing behind her, an easy smile on his face. “Let’s get out of here.”

Genevieve stands, brushing her hands on her pants. “Yeah, I’m coming.” But as she walks out the room, and brushes past Xaden, he gives her arm a light squeeze.

He tries to be reassuring, but there is too much on her mind. Too many things that apparently, he can hear too.

——————————————-

“There’s a drift of gryphons headed this way!” Tairn bellows, not even minutes after she’s gotten back to her triple dorm in Montserrat. It’s evident that the other riders have gotten the alert too, because as Genevieve runs back to the battle plan room, the others are there too.

“You have to go!” Mira says to Violet, pulling her into a hug.

“We can help!” Violet argues, but she’s being held so tight.

“You can’t. And if Astrape is using her power to keep you seated, then she’s diminished as well. You have to go. Get out of here. If you love me, Violet, you’ll go so I don’t have to worry about you, too.” She releases her, looking to Xaden as the squad pours out of the door above, thundering by as they run down the steps. “Get them out of here!”

”Let’s go!” Dain shouts. “Now!”

“Lieutenant Sorrengail,” Xaden addresses firmly, practically snarling at Mira. “Even if you don’t trust me, I’m the best weapon you have,”

“If what you say is true, then you’re also the best weapon Genevieve has, and gods only know what Genevieve might do if Violet gets hurt. As much as I don’t trust either of you, you’ve kept her alive this far and you need to keep her alive now. The other half of the squad will be here in moments, we have time. Go.” Mira’s eyes shift to Genevieve. “Violet will follow you if you go.”

Xaden grumbles, grabbing Genevieve by the wrist and motioning for Liam to do the same to Violet. He’s practically tossed her up on his shoulder, as Violet struggles against his grip.

“No!” She fights, but there’s no point, Liam outmatches her by so much. “Mira! What if you get hurt? Astrape’s speed could be the only thing that saves you. Tairn’s speed could save you! At least let us stay!”

She looks over her shoulder at the doorway, but there’s steel in her expression. “You want me to trust you, Hale? Get her the fuck out of here and find a way for her to keep her seat. We both know she’s dead if she doesn’t.”

“Mira!” She screams, clawing at Liam’s arms, but he’s already halfway down the stairs with an arm clamped around her waist as if she weighs less than the swords on his backs. “I love you!”

“Liam, let us go grab our packs. She can’t run while I watch.” Genevieve says, following quickly in step behind Xaden’s long strides. It takes only minutes for Genevieve and Violet to grab their bags and Rhiannon’s since they’ve never unpacked, cramming their cloaks into the empty space. Once they return to the hallway, Xaden and Liam are there waiting, and their packs are suspiciously empty.

Genevieve doesn’t even want to think about what they’re leaving behind in order to get them out safely.

Violet doesn’t even bother looking at them, marching for the door, but Genevieve grabs her elbow and spins her around. “Nope. We can’t leave the fortress walls. We’re going up.” Liam grabs her waist and all but hauls her to the nearest turret. “We’re climbing.”

“This is bullshit!” Violet yells at Genevieve, uncaring that the other members of the squad also climbing the turret can hear. “Astrape could help them!”

“Violet, your sister is right. You have to make it out, so we’re going. Please just climb.”

“Dain,” Violet says, realizing he’s right in front of them.

He turns around and takes Rhiannon’s pack, slinging it over his own. “I don’t like Genevieve all that much, but she’s right. It’s not just you we have to get out, Violet. Think of every other first-year.” The plea in his eyes shuts Violet’s mouth. “Are you going to sentence an entire untrained squad to death? Because I’ll make it. Dianna, Emery, and Heaton will, too. And we all fucking know Riorson will. But what about Rhiannon? Ridoc? Sawyer? Genevieve? Do you want her death on your hands?” He asks, his words choppy as they race to the open door.

They burst onto the roof as Emery mounts his dragon, who is precariously perched on the thinner-than-quadrant wall. Violet pales, and Genevieve knows that she will never be able to mount Astrape at this angle.

“Ridoc and Quinn are already in the air,” Liam tells them as Emery launches skyward, where Cath, Astrape, and Deigh hover, their winds beating the air.

“Violet can’t mount at this angle!” Genevieve whispers harshly to Liam. “Get her up on that dragon!”

He nods, pulling Violet in towards her, his hand cupping his head as he gives her a quick kiss, before lifting her up for Astrape to grab. She’s fighting the whole way up. The rest of the squad is in the air and safe. Genevieve can fight. But they won’t let her.

Liam goes to mount next, crumbling the masonry with the force of Deigh’s landing, and Liam takes off down the narrow walkway toward the large Red Daggertail.

“You next, Aetos,” Xaden barks, and Dain flicks his eyes to Geneveive.

“Gene-” He starts to argue.

“That’s an order.” There’s no room for argument here in that tone, and Geneveive knows it, especially when Cath takes Deigh’s place on the wall. Dain looks like he might fight, but ultimately he nods, turning to Xaden.

“Get Genevieve in the air as soon as Tairn arrives.” He says firmly.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Xaden says, his words firm. “Now get on your dragons so I can get her on hers.”

Immediately, he turns and runs up Cath’s leg, mounting so easily that Genevieve is almost jealous.

“Where are you?” Genevieve calls out to Tairn, seeing the empty skies above her.

“Almost there. I was doing what could be done.”

“Let me stay and fight,” Genevieve says to Xaden, desperation evident in her every word.

Xaden turns sharply at her words, his eyes dark and stormy, stepping closer until Genevieve can feel the heat radiating from him. “You can’t stay,” he growls, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper— something raw that he’s been holding back.

“I’m not running away,” She snaps, her fists clenched tight at her sides, fighting against the pull in her chest, the one that keeps dragging her back to him.

“Damn it, Gen!” He grabs her shoulders, the force of his grip sending a jolt through her. His face is so close now that she can see the tension in his jaw, a battle raging in his eyes. “If you stay, you might die. And I can’t—” He cuts himself off, the unspoken words hanging between them.

Genevieve freezes, her breath catching in her throat. She’s fought her entire life. Fought for survival, for vengeance, for a reason to keep going. But this—this feeling tearing through her, the one he’s igniting—it’s different. She’s never let herself feel it before. It’s terrifying.

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispers, the words slipping out unbidden, her voice breaking with emotions she can barely hold back.

Xaden’s expression shifts, the anger in his eyes softening for just a moment, replaced by something fierce, something vulnerable. He steps closer, and before she can say anything else, his lips crash against hers, hard and desperate. The kiss is searing, full of everything he’s never said, everything they’ve both been holding back. It’s a demand, a plea, and a promise all at once.

Genevieve’s hands fly to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as she kisses him back with the same intensity, her heart pounding wildly. She can feel the tension in his body, the barely controlled restraint in the way he pulls her closer, as if he’s afraid to let her go. Her entire world narrows to this moment, to the feel of him, the taste of him, the way he’s pouring every emotion into this one kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to memorize her, to burn the memory of her into his soul. And she feels it too—that same desperate need to stay with him, to fight beside him, no matter the danger.

But even through the heat of the kiss, there’s something else. Something that trembles beneath the passion: fear. Not just hers—his. She can feel it in the way he holds her so tightly, in the way his breath hitches as he pulls away, just barely, their foreheads still pressed together. His hands remains on her, fingers digging into her shoulders like he’s fighting himself, fighting the urge to tell her to stay.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, so quiet she almost doesn't hear it over the rush of wind and the distant roar of dragons. His forehead is still pressed against hers, his breath coming fast, the admission barely escaping him.

Her heart twists painfully at his words. Xaden—the leader, the warrior, the one who’s always in control—is admitting something she never thought she’d hear. The weight of it crashes into her, and for a moment, all she wants to do is throw caution to the wind and stay. To fight by his side, consequences be damned.

But they both know the truth. If she stays, she’ll only put everyone else at risk. Including him.

His lips brush hers again, softer this time, lingering for a heartbeat longer than before, as if he’s reluctant to let her go. “But you have to,” he whispers, his hands slide down her arms, reluctantly releasing her, but not before he presses one last kiss against her forehead.

Genevieve bites her lip, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. She hates it—hates that she has to leave him behind. But she knows, deep down, that if she doesn’t go, she’ll only make things worse.

Tairn’s presence thundered into her mind, a surge of power. “I’m here,” the dragon rumbles, his wings beating the air as he descends towards them.

Xaden steps back, his jaw clenched, watching her with an intensity that makes her chest ache. “Go,” he says, his voice hoarse, filled with an emotion he won’t let himself fully show.

With one last, longing look, Genevieve turns and runs toward Tairn, her heart breaking with every step. As she vaults onto the dragon’s back, she glances over her shoulder, locking eyes with Xaden one final time.

She doesn’t need words to know what he’s thinking—what he’s feeling. It’s written all over his face, in the way his hands are still clenched at his sides, in the way he watches her as though he’s afraid this will be the last time, even though they both know he will survive.

And as Tairn takes to the skies, lifting her higher and higher into the air, Genevieve swears she can still feel the imprint of his lips on hers, the weight of his unspoken words settling deep in her chest.

She doesn’t want to leave him. But she has to survive—for both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! whats up? I'm unbelievably excited for the next chapter-omg. This chapter was chill, but I don't think it was particularly empty, you know?

i actually am very excited for chapters like 23, 24, 25 to be published because thats when more about quinn and genevieve's backstory gets revealed and its been so much fun to write.

also i have an extreme obession with kit connor in romeo + juliet, truly the only man i've ever been attracted to (thats a blatant lie-sorry to my ex boyfriends if you ever read this)

anyways, thats it! let me know if you liked it, and if you did leave a like, comment or kudo! see you all on saturday!

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taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #liam mairi #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #the empyrean #the wounded healer

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iaminfourthwing · 5 months ago

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The Generals Daughter

Chapter VIIII

It’s been a few days and I am still trapped in my confusion about Imogen’s words of encouragement after my father’s punishment. My throat is almost completely healed, just some faint bruises lingering.

The “drama” between Violet and Dain is still going on and Xaden is still making her life harder than necessary. It’s kind of amusing, how the two of them are constantly bickering and the tension is rising day by day. I am waiting for the day when she tells us they fucked. Xaden is clearly interested in her too.

Today starts the Gauntlet training and currently, we are standing in front of the … menacing obstacle course, how Violet calls it. Said girl takes her place next to me and looks up to the top horrified. And while Rhiannon shares the sentiment, Aurelie looks fucking excited.

“I’ve been waiting years for this day!” she grins widely.

She explains how her father used to set up obstacle courses all the time and how she and her older brother trained for this. She also explains, what we have to look out for while running through this.

I observe every death trap we have to cross in order to get to the top. My heart rate picks up, even though I’ve run this more than once and am familiar with this. Father made me train this and every time he came back to Basgiath I had to show him, how much process I’ve made. And all that in secret, without prying eyes around me.

“Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet” Ridoc says next to me, shivering from the morning cold, while the sun is still set behind the mountains.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings” Tynan sneers from the other side while sending a pointed look in Violets direction. Fucking. Asshole.

“Knock it the fuck off” Ridoc snaps at him, earning himself the attention from the rest of our squad. Surprised and a smirk waiting to lift on my lips, I watch the situation in front of me unfold.

“What’s your problem?” Tynan asks, trying to be intimidating in front of our dark-skinned friend. He is as intimidating as a slide of molded bread as Ridoc is way taller and wider than him.

“My problem? Just because you are one of Barlowes lapdogs you think you can be an asshole to your own squad mates?” Ridoc states. They bicker front and back till Sawyer has heard enough and shuffles between them, trying to calm the situation.

He starts to explain, why they measure the time you need to get up the Gauntlet, since he survived it last year. “Little bitter, are we?” Tynan asks smirking.

“Can I punch him?” I ask no one in particular, earning a few chuckles and a lighthearted laugh from Sawyer, looking gratefully in my direction when I am coming to his defense.

Professor Emetterio arrives and starts explaining the function of the course.

“Sawyer, you’ll start and show your squad mates how it’s done. Then Pryor, Trina, Tynan, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Violet, Aurelie, Arya and Luca.”

“Great,” Luca murmurs, “so she can push me down.” Rolling my eyes, I ignore her and take my place into the formation.

“You are the only squad to fully remain intact since Parapet. Your squad leader must be proud” Emetterio walks past us.

“Aetos is especially proud of Sorrengail” Tynan sneers again, earning a high-pitched giggle from the annoying blonde behind me.

“You want to talk shit about me, fine. Do it. But leave Dain out of this” Violet hisses. My girl is gaining confidence. They grow up so fast, I think amused.

“Like it doesn’t bother any of you that our mighty squad leader is fucking one of us” the boy asks in the group, offended.

“I’m not-“ Vi starts but I don’t let her finish, heard enough of him.

“Look, buddy, you crave some attention and affection from our squad leader, I am pretty sure you can ask Dain yourself, if he could fuck you. Seems to me that you are quite jealous of Violet, that she gets all of his attention.” I say, glaring in his direction.

And while Ridoc and the rest of our group, besides the offended boy and Luca, starts laughing loudly, Tynan turns deep red, clearly embarrassed.

He opens his mouth to reply, but our professor gives the signal to start the Gauntlet.

“Any words, Sawyer?” he asks our friend.

Said boy lets out a deep sigh. “There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the cliffside to the bottom. So, if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.” So much more.

Violet whispers to Trina when a heavy chunk of granite tumbles down. And after that, Sawyer is off. And off he goes. Not a single misstep, no balance problems. None. He is simply fantastic. He faces the giant ramp and sprints forwards. He uses all of his strength to pull himself over the edge to the top and into safety.

Rhi and Vi cheer loudly for him while I look up impressed. He is really fucking good. He could easily earn the Gauntlet patch, if it weren’t for a certain blonde hulk of a cadet in Tail Section. Liam Mairi is a beast through and through. He’ll easily beat everyone.

I bet that Sawyer will bond a dragon this year and I’ll lose any hope if not.

Emetterio praises him. And then Pryor is off, struggling hard on his way.

Violet struggles too, I already predicted that, but she is fast, wicked fast.

After her, Aurelie is on her way and you can clearly see the training she has in her bones.

I give her around twenty seconds and then I make my way to the first point. I can hear the others encouraging each other but I try to focus on myself, still having father’s words in my ears. “We’ll see us after Threshing when you’ll have your dragon.” And if I don’t even make it to Presentation, then he’ll haunt me even if I am meeting Malek early.

Shouting sounds from above and just in time I see Violet slamming into the rocks, clearly dazed after the hit. My heart starts beating faster, adrenaline is rushing through my veins. Shit.

“Come on Silver one, you’ve got this!” I roar up to her. She blinks through the pain and gains her composure back. Her and Aurelie land on the gravel path.

I take a deep breath through my nose. She is alright, for now.

I am in front of the giant buoy balls and jump on the first one. It rotates slightly and I take the chance and leap onto the next one. Not wanting to slip and fall to my possible death, I immediately jump over the next ones too and land on the gravel path that leads me to the giant metal rods. Luca is struggling behind me, but I pay her no attention.

I am directly under the rolling logs and see Violet crossing them successfully.

“Violet, here I come!” Aurelia shouts. She starts good but then a roar sound from above and while Violet is distracted by the Green Daggertail that fly’s over our heads, Aurelie slips on the fifth post. She cries out and rolls of the log, Violet too far away from her to catch her.

“Aurelie!” Shouting erupts from the top.

I sprint forward, desperately trying to catch her. I can reach her. I can grab her when she is near and pull her into safety. Hold her off from falling. I can-

A body slams into my back and I am tackled to the ground. Aurelie passes me, screaming loudly, while I hang limp over the edge. Shocked, the air freezes in my lungs as I watch her with wide eyes fall into her death, having a direct view on her terrified face.

She slams on the last buoy ball with murderous force, clearly breaking her neck and possibly every bone in her body, and falls on the gravel path down.

She is dead.

#fourth wing #iron flame #fourth wing x reader #bodhi durran #xaden riorson #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran x reader #violet sorrengail #booktok #fourth wing by rebecca yarros

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skinreflectsthesun · 5 months ago

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I think the best way to win my love for a female main character is to show their kindness. Within the first 4 chapters I knew I loved Violet in fourth wing for her kind heart, she didn’t have to give Rhiannon her boot to cross the parapet but she did, she wanted them to both make it. And that won me. The same way that Feyre won me with her endless devotion to her family and her selfless nature when she went under the mountain, but even so later when she gave the water wraith her jewelry so they could pay their debts. Kindness. That made me love these characters as easily as they dispelled their kindness.

#personal #bookblr #fourth wing #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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rosanna-writer · 1 year ago

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The Dust of the Stars in Her Eyes (7/7)

Summary: Feyre Archeron didn't want a prince, just a night off and a dress. But when the mating bond snaps for Rhysand at the ball where his father is pressuring him to choose a wife, he'll do anything to keep Feyre close—even convince her to fake an engagement to him. Warnings: Light discussion of injuries Pairing: Feysand Chapter Word Count: ~2.4k

Chapter One: The Prince is Giving a Ball | Chapter Two: I Have Found Her | Chapter Three: So Why is the Fellow Going Crazy? | Chapter Four: I Wake in the Loneliness of Sunrise | Chapter Five: Move a Mountain, Light the Sky | Chapter Six: And She's Taking Me Back to the Skies | Chapter Seven: ...or Are You Wonderful Because I Want You?

We've reached the final chapter this fic and the final day of @officialfeysandweek2023! Thank you so much to the event organizers; the absolutely INSANE amount of behind the scenes work to make this successful is so, so appreciated!!!!

You can find the last chapter below the cut or here on AO3.

Feyre didn't winnow or fly, just ran. There was no plan in her mind, hardly another thought other than a desire to put distance between herself and Rhys. As much as possible, as fast as possible.

It wasn't until she was too winded to go on that Feyre stopped to think about what she was doing. Returning to the house wasn't an option, not with Rhys there. And she wouldn't go back to her stepmother, either. Or any of the Illyrian camps.

The only place for Feyre was the forest.

She could make do with that—she'd been keeping a hunting knife strapped to her thigh, a precaution since Rhys had been shot. Ideally, she'd have more supplies than that, but Feyre Archeron had made herself a master of surviving on very little.

She'd intended to split the soup with Rhys, but now she found herself right back where she started–hunger clawing at her stomach as she prowled the woods for game. Perhaps she'd been a fool to think she'd have a chance at ever doing anything more than that.

Feyre cut branches from a sapling and began to build a snare. The process had become so intimately familiar that the steady motion of her hands left her mind free to stop and think.

Rhysand had known. And for the life of her, Feyre couldn't understand why he hadn't just said something instead of taking the most roundabout route to getting her to agree to marry him. They were mates—there was no way he wouldn't have her if he wanted her. Until a few hours ago, she'd been convinced he had wanted her, but now she wasn't sure what was true any more.

Feyre finished the snare, then perched in a tree above it to wait, still alone with her thoughts. She replayed the last few days on an endless loop in her head, trying to make sense of them.

The leaves rustled. A rabbit squeaked. The snare held.

Feyre got down from the tree and started on the work of slaughtering and butchering her meal. Skinning the carcass and building a fire took more of her concentration, but even then, she still couldn't quite escape the conclusion she'd come to, as much as she wished she could.

She'd have to talk to Rhysand.

While Feyre roasted the meat on a makeshift spit, she considered what to say, whether she owed him an apology for throwing soup and asking questions later, what questions to ask, how those answers might change her mind about what she wanted. Between the confusion and the hunger, her head was pounding.

She'd taken her first bite of the unseasoned meat when the snap of a twig and the sound of her name had her hand flying back to her still-bloody knife. Feyre leapt to her feet, heart pounding.

But it was just Rhiannon and Mor who emerged from the trees. For a moment, they just stared, taking in the sight of the fire, the snare, and the pelt she'd cast aside. Feyre didn't move her hand from her knife.

"What the hell are you doing? " Rhiannon said. "I thought you said you hated hunting."

"I needed to eat," Feyre said, keeping her chin up. She refused to be ashamed about it.

"You didn't have to run off to the woods to do that," Mor said. Feyre just gave her a flat look—there hadn't been a more appealing option. Mor sighed and added, "I meant what I said before, about not watching you end up in a desperate situation."

There was a long moment of silence, and Feyre considered whether or not to accept the help. Being alone in the woods might not be comfortable, but it was familiar. She couldn't quite find the words to ask for what she needed.

Mor just held a hand out, obviously ready to winnow them somewhere else. Feyre took it.

The world disappeared into smoke and shadow, and when it reappeared again, they were outside a log cabin. Before Feyre could ask, Rhiannon said, "It's been in the family for generations. The wards keep out anyone who doesn't have permission to be here."

"We were sent up here for 'reflection' when we were younger. No one's going to be using it for a while," Mor said.

They ushered Feyre inside, showing her how the cabin was spelled to take care of its occupants. Then Feyre found herself being shooed out of the kitchen while Rhiannon reached into a pocket dimension and pulled out more of the soup that she'd originally meant to send to Rhys that night. Feyre started to ask about it, but Rhiannon just winked and said her brother's soup privileges were revoked for the time being.

Feyre spent several days in that cabin, the first time in her life there was nothing to do but rest and consider her next steps. Mor and Rhiannon stayed with her that first night, but after that, they were in and out, sometimes keeping her company and sometimes giving her the stretches of alone time she needed. They shared news, though only when Feyre asked. Rhys was recovering well, back on his feet and pursuing changing the Illyrian inheritance laws with a renewed fervor. The updated statutes would go into effect in a matter of days.

And when they did, Feyre would have options, something that had been so rare in her life thus far. The money from her father's estate would keep a comfortable roof over her head and food on her table for a few months, enough time to decide on a path dictated by her own desires. She'd never have to speak to her stepmother again.

The morning of the day the changes would be signed into law, Feyre was waiting for Rhiannon when she arrived at the cabin. Rhiannon took in the sight of Feyre in leathers again and said nothing, just raised her brows.

"You still have the Suriel's cloak, don't you?" Feyre said. "The one I left in your room?"

"Of course. What do you need it for?" Rhiannon said.

"I want to see what the Weaver is willing to trade for it," Feyre said with a shrug.

Somehow, Rhiannon's brows climbed higher. "Are you…?"

"We'll see. It's an heirloom ring. If he ends up alone, then I hope you find someone to give it to instead."

That afternoon, Feyre arrived in Windhaven with a newly acquired star sapphire on her right hand. Just outside the tent where Rhys was meeting with the camp-lords and signing paperwork, she found a place to sit and wait.

When he emerged from the tent, speaking to Cassian, Feyre took a second just to watch him. She's known his wings were healed, but it was a relief to see it for herself. Deep down, she'd still worried.

His nostrils flared slightly as he caught her scent, and his head whipped around in her direction. Rhys went still. Feyre raised her right hand in greeting, letting the ring glint in the late afternoon light.

His steps were carefully measured as he moved closer to her, but Feyre had the sense that he was doing everything in his power not to run. The bond went so taut she nearly pressed a hand to her chest.

"What brings you to Windhaven?" he said, carefully casual, even as his eyes moved back and forth between her face and the ring on her finger.

"I'm here to claim what's mine," Feyre said. There was one stiff nod from him, then she continued, "How are your wings?"

"Intact, thanks to you."

There was scar tissue from the first time he'd been shot, perhaps that was true this time around, too. Feyre hoped that was the worst of it.

She watched Rhys's throat bob, and after a beat of silence, she said, "We should continue this conversation in private."

When she held out her hand to winnow them, Rhys had never moved more quickly to take it. Within seconds, they were outside the cabin. Feyre pulled her hand from his, and a part of her hated how reluctant she was to do it.

"Is this where you've been staying?"

Feyre just nodded and gestured for him to follow her inside. She sank down into a chair at the kitchen table, and Rhys followed suit, though from the way he was looking at her, she'd half-expected him to wait for her to give him permission to sit. Taking a breath to steady herself, she toyed with the ring.

"I'm going to ask questions, and you're going to explain everything and leave nothing out. And I'll decide at the end of it whether I'm giving this ring to you or your sister."

She'd already decided she wouldn't be accepting the bond that day. There would be time for that eventually, when everything between them wasn't so new and she had a better sense of what she wanted now that she was out of that cottage in the woods. Today, all she'd decide was whether there would be a chance for Rhys to use the ring to ask her properly one day. He seemed to understand, going silent and weighing his words before he spoke again.

"I didn't want a spouse, either," he said softly. "That's why my father held that ball in the first place. You've seen for yourself now that being close to me comes with danger, and I couldn't ever imagine asking another person to shoulder that burden because of me. Especially not someone I loved."

Feyre said nothing, just let that sink in. When she didn't ask a question, Rhys continued, "Then you landed on that balcony, and even though the bond hadn't snapped yet, I think I knew who you were, deep down. You were so different from everyone else there. And then you said that you were only there for a night off, and that's when the bond snapped and everything became more complicated. I wouldn't marry anyone else, but I couldn't— I could ask anything of you, not like that."

"You could have told me right then," Feyre whispered. She still didn't understand why he hadn't or where he'd gotten the willpower to keep from blurting it out in the moment.

For the first time that day, Rhys looked her in the eye properly. "I wouldn't force you to choose between accepting the bond or returning to your stepmother. Those would have been your options, and a choice like that is no choice at all. You deserved better."

Feyre could see the truth in those words, the way history would be repeating itself if he'd told her about the bond then. She was half-Illyrian; of course she'd heard the stories of how the bond snapping with the High Lord had saved his mother from wing-clipping. Feyre's life in poverty and Rhys's as a High Lord's heir left a gulf between them too wide for a mating bond to properly span.

"But I wasn't strong enough to stay away," Rhys continued, "so I schemed, the one thing I'm good for. And you seemed to want me, and that was intoxicating. I couldn't decide if I hoped you'd change your mind and stay, even after you received the money you were owed, or if I hoped you'd run far away and stay safer that way. Then I was attacked and I'd known you less than a day and I already thought I'd lost you. I didn't know how to tell you about the bond, after that. I just…wanted to stop feeling like I was in a crisis first."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Feyre said, voice sharp. Rhys flinched.

"I don't know. Probably. But it was hard to think very far ahead after coming so close to death. I knew you'd figure it out eventually, but I didn't anticipate you'd do it that fast."

Feyre considered that, too. He was being honest, more concerned with giving her the truth like she'd asked than trying to win her. And maybe that's what she needed from him.

"I couldn't stay away, either," she admitted softly. "You should have factored that in."

"That would have been mighty conceited of me."

"Did I really deflate that massive ego of yours so quickly?"

For the first time in days, Feyre was smiling. And so was Rhys. The bond uncoiled in her chest, and she started to believe they both might actually be alright.

"I promise the other massive parts of me are—"

Rhys stopped abruptly as Feyre slid the ring off her finger. As he watched her, Feyre wasn't even sure he was breathing.

"I want you to try again, when the time is right. No lies, no scheming. Ask me for real next time," she said, holding the ring out to him.

Rhys took the ring and pocketed it. "One day, only when I'm sure the answer will be yes."

Feyre stood up from her chair, holding a hand out to tug Rhys out of his and closer to her. "And what will you do to make that happen?" she said, tipping her head back to look at him.

Rhys cocked his head, his eyes taking on a predatory glint. "Would you believe me if I said I made a list?"

She'd started to lift her hands to rest on his chest, but they froze in midair. "You— You made a list? "

"Of everything I wanted to do to you but couldn't because I was stuck on my stomach."

"How long is it?"

"I thought you'd be more concerned with the length of–"

Feyre pushed up on her toes and kissed him; Rhys had no business finishing that sentence when there was nothing handy she could throw at his head. She pulled away just long enough to mutter, "Don't dig a bigger hole for yourself."

Before he could respond, she was kissing him again, deepening it and leaning him backwards until he was nearly splayed out on the table for her. She wasn't sure exactly what was on the list, but she guessed there were plenty of items that involved getting Rhys on his back.

There was still more to figure out–what to do with her stepmother, how they fit into each other's lives, what settling into the role of future High Lady might even look like. But for now, Feyre was just concerned with how to get Rhys out of his clothes as fast as possible.

And that was more than enough of a happily ever after for her.

#feysandweek2023 #feysand #the dust of the stars in her eyes

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ravnloft · 9 months ago

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RULES: post 5 songs associated with your oc, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

tagged by @bardic-inspo ooooooo i love this ty. doing it for amma my beloved little terror

i am a libra to the last so ummmmm you get 2 lists of 5 songs, one without vocals and one with, you're welcome

instrumental:

catwoman, michael giacchino

happy childhoods make for dull company, sonya belousova and giona ostinelli

when murder entered my heart, neal acree

the last agni kai, samuel kim

the rising sun, cfo$ and lee england jr.

with lyrics:

teddy picker, arctic monkeys (and it's the thousandth time that it's even bolder, don't be surprised when you get bent over)

gold guns girls, metric (more and more, more and more, more and more, more and more and more and more and more)

rhiannon, fleetwood mac (would you stay if she promised you heaven? will you ever win?)

bullet with butterfly wings, karen o (and what do i get for my pain? betrayed desires and a piece of the game)

foreign object, the mountain goats (i personally will stab you in the eye)

outfits:

ellen terry as lady macbeth by john singer sargent, which is what i based her gown on for the portrait of bonnevance amarthen & wife :) // athena dress, rat & boa // this armor that was ported to skyrim from the witcher 3 and i can't fucking remember what it was originally called in tw3 but it's like her default casual/day clothes when she's out of her armor, picture is from the apachii divine elegance store

also. honorable mention to joelle jones' art of talia al ghul because talia was such a big influence as i developed amma and this art is just. so perfect. the tiddy window... the heavy jewelry... the swords... the inability to move on from her ex-husband

#amma #I LOVE THIS I LOVE HER SHES MY SWEET EVIL BABY THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

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aceofswcrds · 8 months ago

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i will lay me down — (spotify)

mountain hymn, rhiannon giddens // coal miner's daughter, loretta lynn // coat of many colors, dolly parton // on the road again, willie nelson // 500 miles, peter, paul & mary // don't think twice, it's all right, joan baez // girl from the north county, bob dylan // daddy sang bass, johnny cash // bridge over troubled water, simon & garfunkel // let me ride in your big cadillac, blaze foley // sittin' in the amen seat, yvonne devaney // take care of us, the revelations // when he reached down his hand for me, bill monroe & his blue grass boys // reconsider me, margaret lewis // something about what happens when we touch, lucinda williams // wishes, lari white feat. suzy bogguss // send a message to my heart, dwight yoakam with patty loveless // i'm so lonesome i could cry, hank williams // she's got you, patsy cline // moonlight, daniel lanois

a playlist consisting of a variety of songs — some from mary's childhood, some from her personal playlists which she would listen to today, some are slightly fourth-wall breaking tracks that had been chosen to encapsulate mary margaret's character.

#bhqtask001 #:: MARY — musings.

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atyourperil · 2 years ago

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25, 5, 18 (music asks)

HI SOUP THANKS FOR THE ASK! 25: A song by an artist no longer living ough this is a hard one. kind of cheating but many of the members of fleetwood mac have passed so i'll go ahead and say Rhiannon

5: A song that needs to be played LOUD This year the mountain goats!!!!!!!!!!! there are actually probably many many other goats songs that would work but this year has such a special place in my heart.

Honorable mention: The Chain works for both questions!!!

#don't feel comfortable answering 18 publicly. sorry :(.#mutuals!!!#ask games!#musicposting

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ddelline · 3 months ago

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fic OST | bog-bodied

blurb | sakadays my beloved. sakanagurion my beloved. I've ca 5 different fics plotted and half-started at this point (lmao hyperfixation went hard, did it) and HERE is where we start! nagumo-centric jcc days-order trio exploration. in 3 parts, for the 3 doomed by the narrative-people stumbling into a relationship they neither wanted nor needed. no, it will not end well

what | 30 songs exploring the order trio as individuals and as a dynamic w genres ranging from classic rock -> instr post rock -> reworked ambient trance -> classic steppers -> liquid DnB & more

where → spotify tracklist | under cut

01 | kasabian — fire

burn my sweet effigy I’m a road runner spill my guts on a wheel I wanna taste, uh-huh I’m on fire

02 | young fathers — wow

wow, what a time to be alive wow, imma put myself first wow, everything is so amazing I said wow

03 | kent — generation ex (transl swe → eng)

I was supposed to always stand by you I was supposed to always answer when you called I was supposed to always have your back I was supposed to always, always, always be the one who comes around, goes around

04 | fleetwood mac — rhiannon

all your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind would you stay if she promised you heaven? will you ever win?

05 | foreigner — girl on the moon

she felt so close to me as I reached for her hand she drifted away like the desert sand it was her and she was gone

06 | the rolling stones — paint it, black

I look inside myself and see my heart is black I see my red door, I must have it painted black maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts

07 | blue öyster cult — (don’t fear) the reaper

seasons don’t fear the reaper nor do the wind, the sun or the rain we can be like they are—come on baby don’t fear the reaper

08 | parrish smith — sex, suicide & speed metal

instr

09 | 65daysofstatic — drove through ghosts to get here

instr

10 | tricky & martina topley-bird — aftermath

your eyes resemble mine, you see as no others can here: inherit my kingdom, speak of our peoples’ plan I’ll be here for my baby, for my baby I’ll be near

11 | courtesy & lyra pramuk — saltwater (transl irish → eng)

open my eyes no more inside saltwater rain open my eyes

12 | smith & mighty — yow he koh

instr

13 | poliça — lay your cards out

in these little moments, lay your cards out: I am waiting by the waterside summer wading in sunder: girl, get your head right

14 | goldie — state of mind

I realize the state of mind where you have found me I’ve turned the page and rearranged the cards that life has dealt me I’ve played the game and felt the pain but I am stronger now

15 | little dragon — twice

twice I turn my back on you I fell flat on my face but didn’t lose tell me where would I go tell me what led you on I’d love to know

16 | labrinth — formula

the lights are on, there’s no one there puffing with the dragons I’m living for the thrill formula

17 | massive attack — karmacoma

you sure want to be with me? I’ve nothing to give won’t lie and say this loving’s best

18 | the last shadow puppets — miracle aligner

50 feet tall and revved up too high all of our exchanges are by candle light I just realized

19 | nothing but thieves — you know me too well

‘cause every love story always ends in tragedy if you wait long enough filthy impetuous soul I wanna give it to you just to see what you’d do

20 | the kills — doing it to death

doing it to death, oh baby, lately the plans we’re making are the shape of things that never come hold your horses, the light’s up

21 | kent — innan himlen faller ner (transl swe → eng)

as the sky falls down, you’re everything I have I’ll do anything to keep you, as the sky falls I’m everything you have and I’ll do anything for you to keep me

22 | foals — mountain at my gates

you show me a signpost for where I should go I see a mountain at my gates I see it more and more each day and my desire wears a dark dress ah, each day I see you less

23 | perfume genius — die 4 you

each and every breath I spend you are collecting see it through I would die for you

24 | bat for lashes — daniel

and when the fires came, the smell of cinders and rain perfumed almost everything, we laughed and laughed and laughed and in the golden-blue car, you took me to the darkest place you knew and set fire to my heart

25 | warpaint — love is to die

‘cause I got a knife to cut out the memories so carefully, too carefully—it’s not necessary to be so dark love is to die, love is to not die, love is to dance

26 | hozier — be

be love in its disrepute that scorches the hillside and salts every root and watches the slowing and starving of troops but lover, be good to me

27 | BANKS — 27 hours

it’s been 27 hours since we even saw the sun since we even saw the sun

28 | kent — vi är för alltid (transl swe → eng)

they’re going to sing songs about us they’re going to make films about us they’re going to write books about us then as now forever

I’m just kidding—no one’s going to write books no one’s going to make films no one’s going to sing songs about us

29 | blackmill & veela — let it be

let it come and let it be let it come and let it be

30 | snoh aalegra & cocaine 80s — stockholm, pt. II (outro)

instr

#fic extras #fic: bog-bodied #work: music #work: fic #sakadays #sakamoto days #sakanagurion #my doomed beloved

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ducksbellorum · 1 year ago

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if you could know me now

a P.E.A.R.L. mix – health hits experience – arranged by ducksbellorum

didn’t leave nobody but the baby – o brother where are thou ost

Don't you, weep pretty babe She's long gone with her red shoes on Gonna' need another lovin' baby

Go to sleep you little babe

poor wayfaring stranger – rhiannon giddens

I know dark clouds will hover over me I know my pathway is rough and steep But golden fields lie out before me Where weary eyes no more will weep

fare thee well – inside llewyn davis ost

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

I remember one evening in the pouring rain And in my heart was an aching pain Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

if you could hear me now – the mammals

if you hear the words that I’m hopin’ That we win the race Against time and space And the whole world is wide open

this must be the place – iron & wine

The less we say about it the better Make it up as we go along Feet on the ground, head in the sky It's okay I know nothing's wrong, nothing

ship in the clouds – hutong yellow weasels

instrumental

i’ve endured – che apalache

Lived loved and sorrowed

Been to success’s door I’ve endured, I’ve endured

How long must one endure

speaking to the colors again – smilo & the ghost

Speaking to the colors again

Having the time of my life

Feeling alive for the first time

I’m feeling alive

mountain jumper – crooked still

I don't know I visit all the time

But then again

I try to not to be seen

listen//download

#fanmix #hhxp #health hits experience #actual play #music

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bravelittlescrib · 2 years ago

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Hey! Who are your ocs again?

Whew! I have quite a few, but I'll jot the main ones down. The tES ones, at least.

Nyx: My Hero of Daggerfall/Agent. She's a Dunmer who grew up as a street urchin in the Imperial City and became a thief (and later an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood), but she always wanted to be a ballet dancer. After the Dragon Break, she gets married to Llarys, my Dunmer spellsword Vestige, and they start a family together in Vvardenfell. Nyx and her kids die in the eruption of Red Mountain.

Llarys: a House Redoran Dunmer with a career as a gang enforcer, after becoming a Vestige, he experiences a religious revival and becomes a fanatically devoted ALMSIVI worshiper, and also devoted to turning his life around and becoming a beneficial member of society. He hates Mithra for killing Almalexia (and possibly Vivec), and also blames him for Nyx's death.

Mithra: My Nerevarine! He's an Altmer agent who ran away from his noble birthplace as a young man and turned to a life of crime. After being imprisoned for impersonating a government official, he gets sent to Morrowind. In summary, he ends up as a person of some importance in the Morag Tong, House Hlaalu, and even had a short career in the Tribunal Temple. He ends up together with my Dragonborn.

Sora: My Orsimer Hero of Kvatch. I don't want to reveal too much, because her story is being worked on presently, but she's very brawny, not very intelligent, and kind-hearted. A member of the Fighter's Guild and Champion of the Arena, she is incredibly in love with Martin, and his death causes her to go on a rampage that ends with her mantling Sheogorath.

Assabael "Patience" Urshammarnamus: Not actually my OC, actually she belongs to a friend, who made her for my tES D&D 5e campaign a while back, but I basically adopted her. She's an Ashlander with a tragic past who ended up working for the Blades, but got on their bad side after being assigned to work on a messy coup in Hammerfell. Her paranoia drives her to kill an innocent and encounter the Dark Brotherhood, which will also be part of my Oblivion WIP.

Gwenned Ghost-Singer: He's a Reachman that had to flee as a child from his home following the Markarth incident and returned to Skyrim to get his revenge on the Stormcloaks, only to find out along the way that he's the Dragonborn. He gets involved with the Thieves' Guild, and later the Forsworn, after finding out his older sister, Caoimhe, is alive. He has another sister named Saoirse who lives in Cyrodiil with her husband. Following the events of Skyrim and the Dragonborn DLC, he moves back to Markarth and gets named Jarl.

And since I'm working on some Dragon Age fic, I'll give them a mention too!

Hero of Ferelden: Rhodri Cousland. He is incredibly altruistic, and wants the best possible outcome even if it comes at a steep cost for him and those he loves (eg., making Alistair king and having him marry Anora). He romances Zevran.

Hawke: Callum Hawke, snarky mage extraordinaire. He's staunchly anti-Templar, but at the same time wants to put his family first. He romances Fenris, and they are basically Kirkwall's power couple.

Inquisitor: R'hiannon (or just Rhiannon) is a Dalish rogue. She has a hot temper and biases against humans (human mages, most of all), but her time with the Inquisition helps her get over them. Solas, specifically, helps her overcome her distrust of magic-- although when he requests to remove her vallaslin, she cuts off their relationship. She ends up with Cullen, who has been desperately in love with her since she first yelled in his face, and they get married happily ever after... for a little bit, at least.

#asks #oc: nyx #oc: llarys #oc: mithra #oc: patience #oc: sora #oc: gwenned #oc: rhodri #oc: callum #oc: rhiannon #SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY

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nomie-11 · 3 months ago

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Chapter 6 - Echoing of Silent Screams

<- previous part | masterlist | series masterlist | next part ->

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Violet’s cry tears through her throat, echoing across the cliffs as she watches Aurelie plummet to her death, the moment stretching out in agonizing slow motion. Her body hits the cliff, and the air is forced out of her lungs in a wheezing shout. She’s collapsed in on herself, tumbling down the side of the mountain as Violet and her screams echo in Genevieve’s ears, melding with the pounding of her heart.

“NO!” Violet’s voice cracks, the terror in it slicing through the stunned silence. She’s reaching out, straining towards where Aurelie had just been, but there’s nothing she can do now. It’s over. Aurelie is dead.

Her body finally hits the rocks at the bottom of the Gauntlet with a sickening thud, the sound reverberating up the cliff side. For a moment, the world is deathly quiet. The wind has died, the rustling of the leaves halts and the world stops spinning. Even the distant calls of the dragons seem to have disappeared, as if earth itself is holding its breath in mourning.

Genevieve’s heart feels as if it’s stopped beating, she hasn’t even made it up the ramp, she’s just collapsed in front of it, refusing to admit defeat.

Her breath is caught in her throat as she reaches for the rope and makes her way down without ever reaching the top. The second failure she’s had in Basgiath in straight succession. First her fight with Xaden, now Gauntlet. What has gotten into me?

As she reaches the bottom, the rest of the squad is at the base as well. Only Rhiannon, Ridoc and Sawyer made it to the top. Violet, Tynan and Genevieve failed. Aurelie died. Genevieve can’t breath, she can’t talk, but she refuses to let the tears escape her eyes the way Rhiannon and Violet have. She cannot cry, she cannot cry, she cannot cry.

Professor Emetterio is beside them in an instant, his face a mask of grim professionalism, though his eyes betray the weight of what just happened. He stands beside Genevieve, his voice steady but cold. “You have to keep moving as a squad. Don’t let what just happened slow you down.”

Genevieve looks at him, disbelief and rage bubbling inside her. She won’t cry, but she will get angry. “She’s dead! Aurelie’s dead! How can you just-?”

“You should know better than anyone else! There’s nothing you can do for her now.” Emeterrio’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t finish, her death will be in vain. Do you understand? Get up, and tomorrow, you finish the course like the three who did in your group will do before you.”

“Genevieve, come on,” Rhiannon whispered, tugging on her arm. “It’s the next squad’s turn. We have to go.”

The words barely register. Genevieve’s hands tremble, her fingers digging into her training pants. A scream builds in her throat, but she swallows it down, forcing herself to take a step and another. She looks back at the spot where Aurelie fell, her heart heavy with guilt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her, not like this.

But the Gauntlet doesn’t care. The world doesn’t care. And the voice in her head, now silent, offers her no comfort.

Genevieve's legs feel like lead as she forces herself to walk away from the Gauntlet, each step heavy with the weight of Aurelie’s death. The squad moves in a somber silence, the excitement that once filled the air now suffocated by the grim reality of their world. Every breath feels like it’s burning her lungs, her heart pounding in her ears as the image of Aurelie’s fall replays over and over in her mind.

Violet is crying quietly, her shoulders shaking with each sob, while Ridoc walks beside her, his face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. Rhiannon, usually the calm voice of reason, looks just as shaken, her eyes red-rimmed as she holds onto Genevieve’s arm, guiding her through the motions.

Genevieve wants to scream, to punch something, anything, to make the pain go away. But she doesn’t. She keeps walking, keeps swallowing down the rage and guilt that threaten to consume her.

She can’t let herself break. Not here. Not now.

What the hell is wrong with me? How could I let this happen? She was right there, and I couldn’t save her.

A part of her knows that she couldn’t have done anything, that it was just bad luck, but another part of her, the part that refuses to let go of control, blames herself entirely. She failed. Again. And this time, it cost a life.

She’s not even sure how long she stands there, frozen, before she feels a hand on her shoulder. It’s Rhiannon, her eyes filled with a compassion that only makes the guilt worse.

“Genevieve,” Rhiannon says softly, “it’s not your fault.”

But Genevieve can’t find it in herself to believe her.

Shoving past Rhiannon, her world collapses inward. She’s stuck in the middle of a swirling vortex of emotions she can barely understand. Rhiannon’s words bare;y register as she stares at the floor as she runs down the stone hallway, her vision blurring at the edges. She can’t breathe, the air in the room is too thick, too suffocating. The steady rhythm of her pulse begins to pound in her ears, mocking her. The harder it pounds the heavier her breaths, each reminding her that she is alive and Aurelie is dead.

Her feet move solely on instinct, dragging her up the winding stairwell and into the darkness. It’s dark and cold without the use of mage lights, but she can’t bother to think. There’s one place she can find solace, there’s one place that’s as familiar to her as her mind is. Her feet know where the steps are as she clambers up, higher and higher, until she slams the door to the roof of the dorm hall open.

She’s not alone when the door opens, the all-to-familiar silhouette of Xaden greets her on the edge of the roof, and her breath catches. Her chest heaves with the effort of scaling the stairs so quickly after running away in a panic, her eyes are glossy with tears, and as he turns around, all he sees is her.

For a split second, Genevieve hesitates, her body screaming for her to turn around and run right back down the staircase and into Rhiannon’s open arms. She doesn’t want to face him, not like this, not after everything that’s happened, not when she’s this raw and exposed. But being alone sounds worse.

“Genevieve,” Xaden crosses the roof, his voice is low and steady, but there’s an edge of concern in it that she’s not used to hearing. “What happened?”

She doesn’t answer, she can’t answer. The words are trapped in her throat, tangled with the screams that threaten to let loose and matted with the sobs that she’s been holding back. Instead, she stumbles backwards, her back hitting the wall as her legs buckle beneath her. She clutches her head in her hands, her hand tightly clamped over her mouth.

She lets out a scream, muffled by her own hand as she tightly clenches her hair, her body tense. Sobs follow the scream, and once the first choked sob escapes her lips, she can’t stop. The tears she’s been holding back for years spill over, and she gasps for air as the sobs wrack her body.

Xaden doesn’t say anything, but she feels him kneel beside her, his presence solid and grounding. for a moment, she’s still and he doesn’t move away, the only sound is the ragged gasps of her breath and the distant roar of a storm long off.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Xaden reaches out and pulls her into his arms. And for a moment, she relaxes into him, his warmth of his embrace surrounding her.

But then she shoves him off of her.

“No! No, no, no-!” She gasps, getting up and moving away from him. “You do not get to pull me into your arms as if you care for me! I’m a failure, I’m awful, I can’t- I can’t!” Her breath catches in her throat and her legs crash down into the tiles of the roof once more. He moves to get close to her once more, but she shakes her head no frantically, her eyes terrified. “You don’t understand, get away from me!” She yelled, her hands shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Xaden freezes, his expression shifting from concern to something more guarded, though he doesn’t retreat. His dark eyes swim around Genevieve, taking in every detail of her slow unraveling. For a long moment, he says nothing, just watching her as if weighing his words.

“You think I don’t understand?” he finally asks, his voice low and laced with intensity. “You’re not the only person who’s lost people.”

Genevieve shakes her head, vision blurring with tears that she's relented to hold back once more. “No,” she chokes out, her voice trembling. “You don’t get it, you don’t-” her voice catches in her throat, and her hands snake into her hair once more. “I’ve never failed, I never fail, and then I fight you once and I lose! And then I fail to make it up the Gauntlet. And then she dies, right in front of my eyes and it hurts!”

Xaden inches forward, slowly but surely. He’s getting closer and closer to her, but she doesn’t even look at him.

“When Quinn died, I didn’t even cry, I just got up and pushed through it. When my mother left, I did what I needed to survive! But this! It replays in my head over and over again every time I blink and it’s your fault!”

Genevieve’s accusation hangs in the air between them, sharp and jagged and crackling like a downed electrical wir5e. She doesn’t know if it's fair or even true, but right now, she doesn’t care. Everything feels like it’s crashing down on her, and she needs someone to blame.

Xaden’s expression hardens at her words, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he stays right where she can feel him, feel the tension radiating off of him. “My fault?” His voice is dangerous. “You think this is my fault?”

“Yes!” she screams, her voice tearing through her chest like a wild animal. “If you hadn’t- if we hadn’t-” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head, her thoughts barely clearing with each word she spits out. “It’s your fault because you started talking to me, you made me weak, and now-”

“Now what?” he cuts her off, his voice harsh. “Now you’re human? Now you feel something? This isn’t about me, Genevieve. No, this is about you. And now you’re pining it on me because you can’t handle what’s going on inside you.”

“Shut up, just shut up-” Her voice is awfully panicked, ragged and shocking. “You don’t know what it’s like, Xaden, you don’t know what it's like to be alone. You have your cousins and friends who are so close they’re basically brothers waiting for you, but I’m alone! I can’t feel anything because then I feel alone. Everytime I look at you it’s a constant reminder of every single failure in my life! How could I fail!? You don’t know how much I hate myself right now!”

Her sobs finally broke free once more, they were loud and desperate, and Xaden nearly flinched at how guttural they sounded. It’s raw and destructive, and Xaden’s jaw tightens at each desperate breath that passes by her lips. Her hands tremble as she claws at her chest, her skin raw and red underneath her thin training shirt.

And then, in the midst of the mess in her head, she feels it again—that steady presence beside her. Xaden doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t try to move her, or pull her into his arms this time, he simply stays close, sitting next to her the same way she’s already used to. His warmth grounding her the same way it did on those mornings they sat together.

Genevieve’s breathing is still erratic, her chest is still rising and falling with each gasping sob. Her heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vise, the pain radiating outwards, making her limbs heavy and her thoughts sluggish. She’s drowning in it all, the guilt, the anger, the self-loathing—it’s suffocating her. But Xaden’s presence beside her, steady and unyielding, is like a lifeline she didn’t know she needed.

And for a long moment, they don’t speak, just wait and listen to her breathing even as the storm in the distance rumbles softly. The night is thick and oppressive, the darkness around them is heavy and close in, but there’s a strange comfort to the shadows that surround them.

Her body is slumped against the rough stones of the rooftop wall, and the cold air nips at her tear-streaked face, but she doesn’t try to move, doesn’t try to warm herself. The numbness of the cold is a foreign relief.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispers, her voice barely audible before being carried away by the wind. It’s a confession, one she’s denied and never allowed herself to voice, not even to her own reflection. The girl who was never afraid of a challenge, who always knew she wanted to charge into battle, is failing.

Xaden shifts slightly, just enough that she can see him out of the corner of her eye. His expression is unreadable, a mask of calm that doesn;t betray the storm brewing in his own mind. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and measured, careful, as if each word would make or break her.

“You’re more than who everyone else wants you to be, Genevieve. You’re allowed to fall apart.”

She wants to reject his words, to push him away, and reshape her mask into the image of a perfect soldier who obeys every order without a second thought, but she’s too tired to fight anymore. His words are truthful, and she lets them sink in, lets herself feel the weight of her own humanity.

“I don’t know how to do that,” She admits, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I want to do that.”

Xaden doesn’t offer any solutions, doesn’t tell her that it will get easier, instead, he leans back, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the first hints of dawn are beginning to streak the sky of their sleepless night.

“You’re not a machine, Genevieve. You’re not meant to keep going without feeling anything. No one is, not even you.”

Genevieve flinches at his words, the contradiction between him and Violet not too long ago cutting her deeper than she wants to admit. For so long, she’s buried her emotions, convinced herself that they were weaknesses she couldn’t afford. But now, she sits on this rooftop, raw and exposed in front of Xaden, and she realizes just how wrong she’s been. The walls she built around herself are crumbling, and she doesn’t know if anything will be left once they’re gone.

“I can’t- I don’t know,” Her words struggle to escape from her mouth. “I don’t know how to just… be.”

Xaden finally turns to face her, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time she sees a clear emotion hidden in his gaze. It’s new and something she hasn’t seen before. It’s not pity, not judgment, but a deep and quiet understanding.

“You learn,” he says simply. “You do what you can and take it one moment at a time, and you let yourself feel everything, even when it hurts like hell, because that's the only way you’ll ever know who you are.”

His words hang in the air between them, heavy and lingering with the weight of the truth they carry. Genevieve doesn’t want to accept them, doesn’t want to admit that she's been wrong all this time. But deep down, she knows she can’t continue the way she’s been going.

The first rays of sunlight break over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the rooftop. It’s a new day, a fresh star, but Genevieve feels anything but renewed. She feels raw, her emotions scraped down to the bone, and yet, she feels lighter.

She turns to look at Xaden like he looked at her, her eyes red and swollen from the tears, her face streaked with the evidence of her breakdown. But she doesn’t care about appearances right now. All she cares about is the truth in his eyes and the strange, fragile connection that’s between them.

“How do you do it?” she asks, and Xaden is taken aback because her voice is soft, almost childlike. “How do you keep going, even when you know everything is falling apart?”

Xaden can’t respond for a moment, his mind weighing his options on how much to reveal. Then he shrugs, the movement small and almost imperceptible. “I don’t know. Some days, I just put one foot in front of the other and move, and other days, I find something–anything–to hold on to. Even if it’s just a single thought that gets me through the day.”

He can tell that Genevieve feels small, trying to find some sense and solace in his words, some piece of advice she can cling to, but all she feels is fear of the unknown. The terror of facing herself without the armor she’s so carefully constructed over the years is making her feel like a child again.

“Am I strong enough?”

Xaden’s gaze softens, and for a moment, she thinks she sees a flicker of pride in his gold-speckled eyes. “You’re stronger than you think, Genevieve. You’ve been through more than most people can imagine, and you’re still here. That’s what strength is. And if you aren’t, you’ve got people who care about you. You’ve got Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Violet… and you’ve got me.”

The last part of his statement lingers in the air, and Genevieve feels something inside of her shift. She looks into his eyes, and for the first time, she sees something she hadn’t noticed before—a flicker of vulnerability, a hint of something deeper. With each passing moment she’s coming to realize that maybe…

Maybe she can learn to be human.

The thought is paralyzing, but for the first time, the paralyzing fear barely scares her. It feels like a challenge, one that she has no idea how to face, but she knows she needs to try, because the alternative is running. To keep hiding, and to be afraid. And she’s tired.

“Why do you care?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Xaden doesn’t answer immediately. He just sits there next to her, leaving the space between them empty and waiting. “Because you’re worth caring about,” he finally says.

For a moment, she’s stunned into silence. She doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to the raw honesty in his voice. She just nods, and the world outside the roof fades away. For the first time since the fall, the tightness in her chest loosens.

Whipping the tears from her face, her eyes are rimmed with red, and she holds his eyes for a moment longer. She stares, her gaze hopeful, searching for his or some sign that she’s not alone in this, that he’s human too. And then he meets her gaze head on, his expression steady and unwavering, she feels a flicker of hope.

“I’m going to try,” She says, her words strong for the first time since Aurelie fell from the Gauntlet. “I don’t know what I’m doing or if I can, but I’ll try.”

Xaden nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That’s all I can ask.”

And then they sit in silence as the sun rises above the trees, the light washing over them, a new day beginning. Against the stone wall, Xaden and Genevieve sit with a space between them, and then her hand moves to the center of the space. Xaden’s gaze flickers downwards. And then her hand is in his.

—————————————————————-

The buoys are Tynan’s downfall, the chimney is Violet’s Achilles heel, and the ramp is Genevieve’s worst enemy. Before the tenth session-and the last session- Ridoc, Sawyer, Genevieve, Rhiannon and Violet all sat in a circle.

“We need to figure out a way to get Violet up the chimney and Genevieve up the ramp,” Rhiannon said, laying out the purpose for their impromptu meeting. “All of us are making it to Presentation tomorrow, so we need to get this done.”

Genevieve zones out for a moment, the weight of the ramp crushing her. If she fails, her squad’s time ranking is tanked, then they’re last in presentation. Which she won’t even get to go to if she fails. No presentation, no threshing, no dragon, no sky, no stars.

“Pay attention.” The voice booms.

So you’re back, she thinks to herself, no longer startled by the huge presence in her mind.

“I never left,” It responded, and her eyes widened.

Can you hear my thoughts?

“Unfortunately.” It grumbles, and she stifles a snort at it’s deadpanned response.

Why didn’t you say anything that night?

Her thoughts drift back to how alone she felt, despite physically sitting right next to Xaden. To their hands meeting in the middle-

“You needed him, not me.”

Oh. Genevieve’s cheeks are red.

“Maybe you can climb up onto my shoulders and then…” Rhiannon pauses her ‘save violet’ tirade, and puts her attention onto Genevieve. “Why are you blushing?”

“No reason!” She immediately says, her flushed face immediately getting darker. “Let’s go back to the issue at hand- Violet! You can’t touch a squadmate during Gauntlet, let alone help them, so she needs to do it alone with her own devices.”

Rhiannon passes her a glance, as if to say ‘sure, no reason, definitely,’ but Genevieve waves it off, not passing her a second glance.

“So you read the codex about the Gauntlet?” Ridoc asks, a part of him genuinely surprised. “What else does it say? Any loopholes?”

“I’m not smart enough to find loopholes, believe me,” Genevieve waved him off, before eyeing Violet, who definitely is smart enough. “It said that only a cadet and stuff that is considered them or on their person when they crossed the parapet can scale the Gauntlet. I’m not sure what that’s insinuating, but it might be able to help us.”

Violet’s face flashes with an idea, and she immediately pushes herself to a stand.

“I’ve got it!” She said, her voice finally happy and full of hope. “I’ll be back!” And she turned to run towards the dorm hall, leaving the four of them still sitting in a circle, planning for Genevieve’s ascent.

“Well, she’s got it, so now let’s focus on you,” Sawyer says, turning his attention

“So, you and the ramp,” Ridoc starts, turning his attention to her. “You’ve got the speed, and the stamina, but every time you do it, it’s like you hit an invisible wall halfway up. What’s going on?”

Genevieve bites her lip, the memory of her last attempt fresh in her mind. The ramp is deceptively simple—a steep incline that requires both speed and precision. But every time she’s tried, her legs give out just before the peak, her muscles locking up as if resisting the very idea of reaching the top.

“It’s not just the ramp,” She admits, hating the vulnerability in her voice that she tries to fight back. “It’s like… everything stops working when I get close. My body, my mind. It can’t be fear, I’m not afraid, it’s something else…”

The presence in her mind stirs again, a warm, steady pressure that isn’t quite comfort but something close. “It’s not fear,” it rumbles, more thoughtful this time. “It’s doubt. You’re holding onto your loss against Xaden and your failure in protecting Aurelie. The ramp is a reflection of that. You think you don’t deserve to make it to the top.”

Her breath catches, once more, the truth in a stranger's words stabbing her in the gut. She’s been so focused on the physical obstacle that she hasn’t even looked at the mental one.

“What? What happened?” Ridoc asks, concern and curiosity etched into his features. “Why’d your breath catch?”

Genevieve hesitates, the words tangled in her throat. She knows what Ridoc is asking, and she knows the answer, but saying it aloud feels like admitting defeat.

“I’m… not sure,” she finally says, her voice tight. It’s a lie, of course, and Ridoc knows it. He gives her a look that says he isn’t buying it, but he doesn’t push further. Not yet.

Rhiannon, however, isn’t patient. “Genevieve, this is serious. If something’s messing with your head we need to know. We can’t afford having you freeze up tomorrow.” Her tone is firm, but there’s an undercurrent of worry that softens the edge.

Genevieve meets Rhiannon’s gaze, her usual confidence faltering under the weight of the lingering self-doubt. “It’s just… I’ve been messing up a lot lately,” she confesses, her voice low as if whispering will cause her friends to miss it. “Aurelie’s death, losing to Xaden,” the voice in my head… “I feel like I’m dragging all of you down with me.”

Silence falls over the group, heavy and uncomfortable. Genevieve stares at the ground, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

But then, to her surprise, Ridoc laughs—a quiet, almost incredulous sound. “Genevieve, you’re not dragging us down,” he says, shaking his head. “If anything, you’re the reason we’ve all made it this far. We all doubt ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we’re done for.”

Sawyer nods in agreement. “He’s right. Look, we’ve all had our setbacks. But we’ve also seen what you can do when you’re on your game. We believe in you, even if you’re struggling to believe in yourself right now.”

Rhiannon places a hand on Genevieve’s arm, squeezing it gently. “You’ve carried us through so much, let us carry you.”

Genevieve feels a lump forming in her throat, the unexpected support from her squadmates overwhelming her. Tears well up in her eyes, her hands are trembling, her shoulders start to shake with silent tears.

“Woah! Don’t cry!” Ridoc says, worried, waving his hands trying to get her to stop. “We’re just here for you! Is that so shocking?”

They don’t see her as a failure, as a burden—they see her as someone worth fighting for. Someone to believe in.

“Listen to them,” the voice in her head says. “I chose you because you’re strong and kind. I trust you, now trust yourself.”

Genevieve takes a deep breath, ushering the tears from her eyes, and clearing her cheeks of the now familiar red streaks. “Alright,” she says, looking up at them. “I’m getting the quickest time on the stupid Gauntlet. Let’s figure this out.”

Sawyer grins, his eyes lighting up. “There she is!” His voice is loud and welcoming.

Rhiannon smiles, and the tension breaks as she pulls Genevieve into a quick, fierce hug. “That’s the spirit!”

Ridco nods, his own face one of happiness. “Alright, so it’s a mental block, here’s what we’re going to do…” he begins, launching into a strategy to tackle the ramp. One that not only capitalizes on Genevieve’s superior physical abilities, but strengthens her inferior mental abilities.

As they plan, the hope reignites in Geneveive’s chest—a reminder that she’s not alone in this, that she has people who will fight alongside her, and with them, she can overcome the doubts that have been holding her back.

————————————————————

Genevieve took a deep breath, Ascent #4 was easily passed as she flew up the staircase of rolling logs. She propped herself in the chimney and quickly made the climb, her time getting longer with each passing second but still miles ahead the slowest. All that was left was the vertical ramp, and the sprint up to it. She could do this.

Exiting the Chimney, the ramp towered over her at the end of the short runway. Sweat trickled down her temples, and she spared a quick glance down to where Violet was starting her ascent. The sun was high and mighty over the course, but she paid it no attention, not allowing her eyes to squint from the glare of the blazing rays reflecting off of the shiny and frictionless surface of the ramp.

It feels like she’s been standing in front of the wall for hours, but in reality, it’s been less than 3 seconds. She focused her breathing, steadying the adrenaline coursing through her veins. One more push and then you’ve done it. Just one more.

With a burst of energy, she launched herself forward, feet pounding against the ground as she sprinted towards the ramp. The weight of the past few weeks threatened to drag her down, the memory of Aurelie’s fall, her failures, her guilt—but she couldn’t let them win. Not now. Not yet.

Her boots made a clashing noise as they hit the base of the ramp, and she dug her fingers into the grooves, pulling herself up with every ounce of strength she had left. The incline fought back, gravity and doubts pulling at her, but her resolve was stronger than the force of the earth. She could hear the distance cheers, the voice of her squad mates who had already made it up the Gauntlet.

Halfway up, her muscles seized, screaming in protest, her breaths came in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred for a moment, and the thought she was dreading crept in—I don’t deserve to make it up this ramp. I can’t do this.

“Ignore yourself,” The voice echoed in your mind. “You deserve this. Climb. Go.”

She pushed herself aside, forcing herself to listen to the voice in her mind. She was fighting for herself, for her squads time that she’s undoubtedly dragging down the longer she lingers here. For her squad. For Aurelie. For herself.

The top of the ramp made contact with the palm of her hand, and this time she gripped down on it. With one final, desperate effort, she hauled herself up and over the edge, only using the force of one arm, collapsing onto the flat surface.

She laid there for a moment, chest heaving, the world spinning around her.

She had done it.

“You did it, my child,” The voice in her head had an air of pride.

Quickly, she pushed herself to a stand. Her eyes excitedly meet the eyes of Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer. In an instant, she’s running to them, jumping into their arms.

“Yes!” She yells, her voice the happiest it’s been since she’s arrived at Basgiath. “We did it”

As they excited the hug, Rhiannon placed both of her hands on Genevieve’s shoulders, holding her tightly as she looked dead into Genevieve’s eyes. Her smile was so big it looked like it was out of place at this hell of a school.

“No,” She corrected, glee audible in her words. “You did it.”

———————————————

Hey guys! Last chapter for a little bit as I’m starting school tomorrow!! Exciting, right? (No, save me please)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave likes or comments letting me know your thoughts or if you liked the chapter. Thanks!

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden and sgaeyl #liam mairi #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #the wounded healer

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elifalvey · 1 year ago

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The constant swell in his heart was a feeling that Elijah was still getting used to. While he always loved those around him — and certainly had no qualms with telling them such — he never quite felt overwhelmed by it, like his chest would explode at any moment because of it. Ever since having Rhiannon, however, that's become something of a new normal. A part of him wondered if it was because of the stress that had consumed him in the past five months, and now that it had dissipated he was left with the love that carried him through it. Or perhaps it was because he found himself much more appreciative of life since he had one to take care of. Either way, seeing Rachel and his daughter together gave him that feeling, and he laughed joyfully as they communicated. "Oh, yeah, she's gonna be the most fashionable baby in Providence Peak. Better be, with the mountain of clothes we have already. It's insane, you know? They're so small, and they can only wear these clothes for like a week, and we have so many of them. She's gonna have to start wearing clothes on top of her clothes at this point to get through them all," he rambled, a little too much passion behind the logistics of baby-styling. He smiled, recalling the time he spent with his parents. "It was great! They came a week or so before she was born, obviously, so I got to spend a little time with them on my own — but they didn't give a shit, though. They were so ready for her, the second they were able to see her I was like chopped liver. They're even thinking of moving over here, actually, that's how much they love her," he said. "How's work been? How;s, um . . . how's things with Max going?" ( @rachelhargrove )

"Yeah, you get to see her all the time, come on now, share the baby, Eli." Rachel jokingly chastised as she finally was holding onto the small child. She mimicked the look on Rhia's face back at the baby, gasping a little at the wonder in her eyes. "Hi, baby Rhia. I love you too, little miss. And I cannot wait to see all your fashionable winter clothes. Everyone is going to be so jealous of your baby style." She grinned down at the baby as she bounced her a little in her arms. Rachel moved one of her fingers towards Rhiannon's teeny little hands, smiling as she gripped on just as she thought she would. Her eyes moving to look up at the baby's father she smiled and shook her head. "You don't need to thank me at all, Eli. I always wanted to hang out with you. I can imagine, you guys needed a little adventure!" She exclaimed, knowing from others just how stressful and sleep-deprived newborn life could be. "So how was the visit from your parents?"

#INTERACTIONS.#ft. rachel

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runnning-outof-time · 3 years ago

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Now It’s Time to Rest | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - for @thesoldiersminute ‘s 3K celebration - CONGRATS!

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy back from his lowest point, convinces him that he needs to rest, and even manages to get him to fall asleep.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking, age gap, suicidal ideations, season 5 spoilers

Word Count: 4144

A/N: oh boy...I pulled off of a lot of inspiriations for this one. First, for the celebration, I had the prompt “I didn’t mean to ruin your life.” I also used lyrics and took a main inspiration from Rhiannon Gidden’s song ‘Mountain Hymn’ which was featured on the Red Dead Redemption 2 soundtrack. There is also some of T.S Eliot’s poem ‘The Hollow Men’ within the fic. Both the song lyrics and the poem will be bolded and italicized. I’ll also link them at the bottom if you wanna check then out!

A/N 2: this is obviously not canon to what happened since s6 e1 is out...I didn’t get to watch the newest episode yet so I don’t know what actually happens. I tried my best with the angst - I hope it’s not too cringey - and added the fluff at the end cuz I couldn’t help myself. Hope you enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

(Y/N) was relaxing on the couch in the front living room when she heard the door to the house open. Thinking it was Tommy coming home from the rally he was scheduled to attend that day, she didn't think anything of it. But then she heard screaming.

"(Y/N)!" It was Arthur, her brother-in-law, Tommy's brother. He seemed panicked. "(Y/N), where are you?!"

"What?...what?!" (Y/N) called back, scrambling off of the couch, the book in her hands going flying as she quickly tried to find the man who was calling for her. They met in one of the hallways, and Arthur's hands went to to her arms to steady her so that she wouldn't crash into him. "What's wrong, Arthur?" she asked between her pants, her stomach doing flips.

"It's Tommy. He...he's gone off...said he needed to walk," the older man told her, looking straight into her eyes as he spoke, "he isn't thinking straight, (Y/N). I...I'm worried about him."

"Shit," (Y/N) whispered, moving to the front closer to grab a coat and, luckily, a pair of shoes before she sprinted to the front door. "Thank you, Arthur!" she called before taking off down the gravel driveway in hopes to find her husband.

She eventually found him. He was kneeling in the middle of a plowed field, hunched over himself. (Y/N) knew it was him. She was surprised at how far away from the house he'd gotten. Her pace didn't slow until she was a few steps away from him. That was when she noticed the revolver sitting in the dirt a few inches away from him. Her eyes widened slightly. "Tommy?" she called to him as she stepped even closer. She now heard his sobs, saw his whole body shaking as he cried. It broke her heart. "Tommy, are you ok?" she asked as she dropped to her knees next to him.

"I...I couldn't do it, (Y/N)," he choked out, "I couldn't do it."

"That's good, Tom. That's good," she told him in a soft voice, her hand rubbing his back. "We need you alive."

She continued rubbing his back as he continued sobbing, and she wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally lifted his head to look at her. Her heart broke for a second time. His cheeks were red, his eyes puffy, his hair hanging over his face. She wished she could make all of his problems disappear. Wordlessly, she helped him up to his feet and walked with him out of the field. The revolver was left where it layed in the dirt. (Y/N) didn't need that anywhere near him.

"Where are the kids?" Tommy questioned in a hoarse voice as they entered the house.

"They're up with the nanny. They're ok," she assured him, trying to lead him over to the sitting room. "Come with me."

He, of course, had other plans, "no...I need to go to my office, (Y/N)," he told her, trying to steer away from where she was taking him.

"You're being serious right now, Tommy?" she asked, her voice soft so not to send him over the edge.

"The plan fucking failed, (Y/N), and I don't know how. I don't know how Mosely knew, but he fucking knew. I need to figure out what to do next," he told her, desperation in his eyes, "someone's ahead of me and I need to fucking figure out who it is."

"No, you need to rest," her words were purposeful, her eyes boring into his as she spoke, showing her seriousness.

"I will, just let me figure out what fucking happened," he remained steadfast, the two of them just standing in the hall now.

"You said that last time, Tommy...that you'd rest. It lasted all but a week before you had yourself locked in your office again. I'm being serious right now."

"I'm being serious too," he stressed, the two of them holding each other's gaze in silence. (Y/N) gave him a pointed look that let him know she wasn't backing down. Letting out a sigh, he walked past her and into the front room.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered, moreso to herself because Tommy couldn't possibly hear her. He was already sitting on a couch, going about the motions of lighting a cigarette when she sat down on the chair across from him. "Talk to me, Tommy," she coaxed him after a few moments.

He sighed, blowing smoke into the air before he spoke, "I think I found him, (Y/N)...I finally found the man that I can't defeat," he told her, making her furrow her eyebrows.

"Who is it?" she asked hesitantly, a few thoughts running through her head.

He sighed instead of speaking, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was almost like it pained him to think of this. "Someone fucking knew. Someone knew about what I had planned," he didn't give her a name, instead he went on with repeating the sentiments he'd said earlier.

(Y/N) thought before she spoke. Asking him the same question would just make the conversation go in circles. So she tried a different approach. "The day is done, Tommy. It's over," she told him, watching as he dropped his head to his hands, his gaze focused on the ground below him. "You did your worst, you tried your best. And now it's time to rest."

"I can't do that, (Y/N). I can't rest," he shook his head profusely as he spoke.

"Yes you can...and you need to. Think about your kids, Tommy," she mentioned Charlie and Ruby in hopes that it would strike a chord with him. It did get him to look up at her, and she saw the look of desperation still etched into his features. "They need their father," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as she looked into his. He stayed quiet, and she took that opportunity to speak once more. "Think about our baby," she broke the news to him, her hand dropping to her still flat stomach as she spoke. Polly had only told her this recently. She figured she'd wait for this day to be over to tell him. She just didn't think she'd be announcing it under these circumstances.

Tommy's mouth opened slightly, his eyes widening in realization. (Y/N) couldn't read his expression. She hoped that he wasn't mad at her for this. Then she saw a tear fall from his eye. "I...I didn't mean to ruin your life," he choked out before his head fell to his hands once more, making (Y/N)'s heart drop. Then he was crying again.

(Y/N) was a good few years younger than Tommy. She met him on a whim, having been drug to one of the rallies that his party was holding by a friend of hers. She knew of Tommy Shelby, having lived in Birmingham for the entirety of her life. So when they crossed paths and he took an interest in her, she was hesitant to move forward. But then she actually got to know him. She learned the reason why he was caught up in this new party, and the intentions he had with its self-proclaimed leader, Oswald Mosely. And she started to trust him.

The more time they spent together, the more infatuated she found herself with him. It wasn't just his looks - though he was a handsome man, indeed, but instead his mind and his intentions that made (Y/N) fall for him. He had two adorable children, a boy and a girl, and (Y/N) had been lucky to see how completely different he was when in their presence. She also learned that he'd just gotten divorced a few months prior to when they first met. He was tired of being in a loveless marriage that he couldn't keep up for even the press' sake. So they got close. Five months into their relationship, Tommy proposed marriage. They were married by their one year anniversary. Their love was a whirlwind, one like (Y/N) hadn't ever experienced before in her life.

And now they were here...Tommy sitting broken on the couch and (Y/N) hoping that she'd be able to help him once again. She stood from where she was sitting and moved over to be next to him. Her hand rested against his forearm in attempts to get him to look at her once more. "You didn't ruin my life, Tommy," she told him, her voice coming out in a whisper.

"You're just saying that out of pity, love," he stated, his sullen eyes coming up to meet hers, "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it and I don't deserve you." He stood from the couch as he finished speaking, making (Y/N)'s hand drop to her lap as she watched him walk over to the mantle of the fireplace where the decanters of alcohol sat. He lifted the lid off of one and poured a good bit into a glass before capping it and lifting the glass to his lips to take a drink. A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his elbow against the mantle to steady himself.

"That's just the shit in your head talking, Tommy. Don't listen to it," she told him, her voice firm now as she hoped that he would take her words into consideration, "I can see the fire in your eyes; the pain. I know you're hurting. I know you're confused, but you can't give up. Giving up lets them win. You've come too far to let them win," she also finished her statement by standing from the couch and moving over to him once more.

He knew exactly what she meant by 'them'. It was his demons, the ones that wouldn't let him sleep at night, the ones that threatened to break through the walls back on Watery Lane. It was the very demons that compelled him to put a revolver to his temple just moments earlier. They'd been getting louder with each day that passed, but he always had (Y/N) there to ground him. She knew exactly what to say to clear his mind.

"You need to rest, Tom," (Y/N) said after they'd been standing across from each other for a few quiet moments. "You need to take a break from the business and the fighting."

"The company needs me. And now the party needs me," he couldn't even look at her as he spoke. He didn't want to see her heart break.

Her stance didn't falter. "Your family needs you," she was blunt with her words, "and your family is a hell of a lot more important than the company and the party."

Tommy was speechless. He didn't know how to respond to her stark statement. It was true. He knew it. The old Tommy, the Tommy that he wanted to get rid of...the Tommy that existed before her, wasn't letting up easy though. (Y/N) watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, the gears in his mind obviously turning as he tried to think of something to say. A few more moments passed before she decided to keep speaking.

"Think about it, Tommy. We take a break, we spend all of our time together, you, me, and the kids, and we forget about what happened today...about what's going on in regards to business," her eyes were shining as she laid out a map to what their life could look like. He didn't know why he was so apprehensive to accept it. "A baby, Tommy. We're having a baby. New life...a new start, a new page in our book," a smile formed on her face as she also imagined their future together.

He sighed, looking to the ground as he scratched his forehead with the back of his thumb. (Y/N) couldn't take his response personally. She could see that he was still fighting so hard with himself. "Can I go to my office for a bit, love?" he asked her for permission then, like he was a little child instead of the owner of the house. "Not to work...I just need to be alone and clear me head," he added at the end, hoping it would help his case.

For the umpteenth time, (Y/N) let a sigh escape her lips before she nodded her head slightly. "Are you going to be ok?" she checked with him before she let him go.

"Yes, I will be," he assured her, stepping forward to press a kiss to her cheek, hearing her mumble her approval to him. He pulled away to look at her once more before he stepped past her, leaving the sitting room for his personal refuge.

(Y/N) put her hands on her hips to steady herself before she took a deep breath. Then, she grabbed the glass from the mantle and downed the rest of the whisky that Tommy had surprisingly left behind. She exited the sitting room to go up the stairs, then walking down the corridor that held both Tommy's office and the reading room. Right now, what she needed was to read something that would help her escape for a while. After scanning the rows of books, she pulled out one that was filled with poetry, hoping that the complex words and structures of it all would give her a challenge - anything to take her mind off of what'd just occurred.

She found herself reading through the poems absentmindedly until one in particular caught her eye. It was by T.S Eliot and was tilted ‘The Hollow Men’. She had to read it twice before she had the realization that the words the speaker said in the poem reminded her of Tommy, and that their thought processes and views of and on life were very similar. So she bookmarked the page, deciding that she would come back to it to do a deeper dive at a later point, before she continued on.

The door to the reading room opened some hours later. (Y/N) was still reading the same book and was almost at its end. Her eyes drifted from the Ezra Pound piece she was currently studying to see that Tommy had entered the room. His features looked much more relaxed now, and he had stripped himself of his suit jacket and waistcoat, now only wearing his trousers and button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The collar was undone as well, showing (Y/N) that he had put an effort into making himself more comfortable.

"Hi, Tommy," she smiled at him, letting the book drop on her chest so that she wouldn't lose her page.

"Thought I'd find you in here," he commented, moving over to the couch she was laying across. (Y/N)'s smile only widened as he lifted her legs gently and sat down where they had been. He then let them rest in his lap, his hands falling on top of her shins. "What are you reading?" he asked, glancing over at the book that was still resting against her chest.

"A collection of poems," she responded, giggling as his face scrunched up in mock disgust...or maybe he was actually disgusted, either way, (Y/N) didn't care. Her eyes lit up as she remembered the one that she bookmarked to show him. "Actually, Tommy, I found one that I wanted to show you," she said then, lifting the book into her hands as she flipped through the pages in order to get to the piece she'd saved.

"Yeah? You gonna explain it to me like I'm a child so that I can understand what it's saying?" he questioned curiously, his lighthearted words making her giggle once more. She was happy to see that he was starting to go back to his normal self.

"If I have to. I don't think it's hard to understand. I found it to be quite an easy read. I reminded me of you, actually," she admitted, and the look he gave her made her cheeks heat up.

"Yeah?" he asked almost as if he was intrigued and wanted to know more.

"Yeah. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Sure, love," he agreed to her suggestion, his hands running up and down her bare legs soothingly.

A smile formed on her face as she brought the book up to look at it. She felt the same giddy feeling in her stomach that she got when she was excited to share a story with the kids. She just loved sharing her books with anyone, really. "It's called The Hollow Men and it's by T.S Eliot..." she paused, glancing up at him to see that his eyes were trained on her before she looked at the words once more. She started reading then, adding in little anecdotes at times and occasionally glancing up at Tommy to see that he was still interested.

"...Sightless unless...The eyes reappear...As the perpetual star...Multifoliate rose...Of death's twilight kingdom...The only hope...Of empty men..." she noticed that after she finished reading this stanza that Tommy's hands stilled their movements on her legs. She peered up at him, seeing that his head was now resting against the back of the couch, but he was still watching her intently. So she continued on.

"...This is the way the world ends...Not with a bang but a whimper." She finally finished the poem some time later, letting out a long breath after she read the final line. "What did you think, Tom?" she asked then, hoping to get some input from her spouse. She was met with silence in response.

Upon looking up from the book, she saw that he was now sound asleep with his head resting against the top of the couch and his mouth hung open slightly. She couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of her, not at all feeling offended that he'd dozed off while she was reading. She managed to put Tommy Shelby to sleep. This was a major win in her book. Careful not to wake him, she leaned forward and sat the book on the low table in front of her before she stretched over and pressed her lips to Tommy's cheek softly. He didn't even stir at her touch. She laid right back down and left her legs in his grasp, eventually falling asleep on the same couch as him.

-One Year Later-

(Y/N) woke up to a gentle sound that she could only describe as a shushing noise. Her eyes opened to wall that held a large window, and she was able to see the sillouette of someone holding a baby. Blinking a couple times, her eyes focused on the person, or people rather, not surprised that it was Tommy and their nearly six month old daughter. He was bouncing her in his arms gently as he attempted to quell the little whines she was letting out. (Y/N) propped herself up on her eblow as she watched him.

"Shh, love...we don't want to wake mummy, do we?" he spoke softly to the baby who surely didn't understand what he was saying. Something in the tone of his voice did the job of quieting her though.

"She's already awake," (Y/N) spoke up, no specific emotion in her voice. Hearing her made Tommy spin away from the window and face the bed once more.

"Sorry, (Y/N). I was trying to get her to calm down but she wouldn't stop fussing," he stated, a bit of sheepishness in his voice. He knew that his wife hadn't been sleeping much recently with the baby not yet being on a solid sleep schedule.

"It was your shushing that woke me actually," she pointed out, a smile on her face as she beckoned him to bring the baby over to her, "she might be hungry," she stated matter-of-factly then. Tommy nodded, handing his daughter over so that she could be fed before he took the spot on his side of the bed. He peered over at (Y/N) as she fed their child. It was quiet for a few moments before she called him out on it. "What's that look for, Tommy?" she asked, a slight smile on her face. He was still looking over at her.

"'M just admiring you, love," he made no attempt to lie, his words making (Y/N)'s cheeks heat up. "My diary's been cleared," he told her then.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. For the next four weeks," he nodded his head as he spoke. (Y/N)'s eyes lit up. "I felt myself moving towards burn out, so I took your advice."

"And you're gonna stick to it?" she checked with him before she could really celebrate.

"I'm sure I'll have you to see to it that I do," he grinned over at her.

"Damn right you will," she had a similar grin on her face now. "That's great, Tom. I'm happy that you're listening to your mind and body now," she commended him then.

"I'm getting old...you can say it," he joked, making (Y/N) click her tongue and shove his shoulder gently.

"You are not," she protested. Tommy just shook his head and leaned over to press a kiss to her temple before he stood from the bed. "Where ya goin'?" she questioned, a frown on her face as she watched him walk to his wardrobe.

"To get Charlie and Ruby. Figured we'd start this holiday by spending some time outside. Frances told me that it's supposed to be beautiful out," he told her his plan and she nodded, happy now that she knew his reason.

"Alright. You get them and go out. I'm going to finish feeding her and then change both her and myself before I'll be out," she gave him the rundown and he nodded his head, sending her one last smile before he left the room.

Things have gotten better over the year that's passed. Tommy changed his ways, recognizing after that day that burn out was a very real thing and that, if he fed into it, it had the power to consume him totally. He wanted to be around for his family. For his two kids and, at the time, unborn child. He wanted to be around for (Y/N). So, when he felt these feelings of burn out closing in, he took a break. At the beginning, it was hard to stay away from the office. But with each time that he stepped away, it became easier. Especially when Lucille May Shelby was born. His 'little Lucy', as he so affectionately called her, seemed to make everything better. It was now that the Shelby family was complete.

After getting changed, (Y/N) walked out onto the grounds of Arrow House with Lucy in her arms. She quickly spotted Tommy, who was sitting under a large tree on a blanket. Charlie and Ruby were playing what looked to be tag, their giggles wafting through the spring air.

"There's my girls," Tommy said with a grin as he watched (Y/N) approach. She sent him a smile back before she sat on the blanket. Lucy, who had just learned how to sit up on her own with the help of a pillow, immediately started fussing to leave her mother's arms. "Come here, Lucy," Tommy opened his arms to her and (Y/N) handed the baby over, laughing when her whines didn't stop. Tommy chuckled before setting her on the blanket against the pillow he knew to bring out for this very reason. She immediately became content.

"I brought a book out," (Y/N) said once the baby was sitting comfortably on the blanket between her parents' legs.

"Yeah? Gonna read to me again?" Tommy questioned jokingly with raised eyebrows, glancing over at her.

"If you'd like," she smiled, finding her marked page and continuing on with the story she was invested in. She read quietly as she enjoyed the feeling of the outside air, occasionally taking a break to glance up and see the two older children still running about.

Somewhere in between chapters, Tommy laid down on the blanket and rested his head in (Y/N)'s lap, where her waist and legs met. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the sight. She didn't say anything to him though. Instead, she continued reading while slotting her fingers through his hair soothingly. She was happy that he'd finally figured out that rest was good for him.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax

MASTERLIST

Read the Poem, ‘The Hollow Men’ here.

Listen to ‘Mountain Hymn’ below.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Spotify #usershelby

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