writinginatree

[writinginatree]

Zombie

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sister!reader, Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: You, Xaden's younger sister and a first-year rider cadet, acquire an undead dog. Now you just have to convince your brother and the Assembly to let you keep it.

Warnings: Set during Iron Flame (so spoiler alert if you haven't read it yet!), swearing, descriptions of (un)dead animals, mention of insects/spiders, brief mention of blood and a minor injury (on Bodhi).

A/N: This is very silly and self-indulgent; if anything doesn't make sense, just pretend it does.

Part 2

You're so busy planning how you'll get your newfound dog into the house without anyone seeing, that you don't watch where you're going, and — just your luck! — almost collide with your brother as he steps out the door of Riorson House.

"Oh, uh, hi Xaden," you say, hoping against hope he won't see the dog behind you. It's a big, dark-brown mutt, and you really want to get it inside and patched up before having to argue about whether you're allowed to keep it. "Nice day, huh?"

Xaden gives you a look that says he's seeing right through your bullshit, and asks, "What's with the dog?"

Damn it.

"I found it. It's hurt."

You step aside the let him have a better look at the dog and the big hole in its skull that allows a view into the inside of almost the whole half of its head. The ear on that side is half ripped off, too, only hanging on by one corner. Xaden frowns at the dog as it sits down at your feet, rubbing the intact side of its head against your leg.

"Hurt seems like a bit of an understatement."

"Does that mean I can bring it inside and help it?"

"I don't think that dog can be helped anymore. Its head is mush."

"So? Look at him, he's fine!"

The dog stares up at Xaden, wagging its tail as if to agree with you. Xaden stares back — or rather, glares. You don't understand why, but he doesn't seem to like your new pet.

"That thing is dead," he says matter-of-factly.

"Uh... What?"

"It's dead," he repeats.

It doesn't make any more sense than the first time he said it. You would understand him saying something like this if the dog wasn't moving. Laying still on its side as it had when you found it, you had mistaken it for dead at first, too. But now the dog is as lively as can be.

"Don't be ridiculous, Xaden. How could it be walking around if it was dead?"

"How could it not be dead with an injury like that?" your brother counters.

"I dunno. But it clearly isn't."

How can he doubt that, when the dog is so obviously full of live?

"Was it moving when you found it?"

"No. He was lying in the dirt. At first I wasn't sure if he's alive, either, but when I touched him, he woke up. He's not dead, Xaden, he only looks that way because of the hole in his head. If we stitch it up, he'll be fine."

Xaden looks between you and the dog, a contemplative look on his face. "It woke up when you touched it, huh?"

"Yeah. Must have been sleeping or unconscious. You know, I think the hole in the head doesn't even bother him. I mean, I know he's not acting like you'd expect a hurt dog to. Maybe it's normal, do you think? Like, a natural deformity?"

"No, I don't think so," Xaden says slowly, still watching the dog with narrowed eyes. What the fuck is his problem?! "Hard to live with your brain literally leaking from your head. And look at the edges of the wound. If I had to guess, I'd say someone smashed his skull with a rock."

If you're honest, that's exactly what you thought at first too. And if someone really hurt this poor dog on purpose, you're going to find them and kill them.

"Well, maybe his brain is hurt just enough that he can't feel the pain anymore?" you suggest. Your brother might have a point in thinking there's something off about the dog, but it definitely isn't dead, no matter what he says.

"He can't feel the pain anymore because he's dead."

"Why do you keep saying that?! He's clearly fine!"

"No, he's not."

You try to object again, but Xaden cuts you off.

"Half his head is gone, kid."

Of course he has to call you kid now, just in case you forgot that he's older and smarter than you. Ugh. Can't he just admit he's wrong for once? Well, fine. If you can't convince him the dog is alive, then let him think what he wants. It's not like it matters, really.

"Whatever. Just let me keep him," you demand. "Please?"

"How many times, that dog is dead."

"No, he's not!" You have to fight the urge to stomp your foot like a child. Arguing with Xaden is like talking to a fucking wall, and twice as frustrating. "This dog is perfectly alive!"

"This dog is dead, Cadet Riorson," a bewildered healer tells you a little later. "Absolutely dead."

When you kept arguing with Xaden, he finally agreed to let you bring the dog inside — to let someone else convince you it's dead, as it turns out, and not to have its injuries treated as you wanted.

"But..." You gesture to the animal in question. It retreated behind you as soon as the healer let go of it, hiding with its tail between its legs. It looks not only scared, but also very much alive, if you ignore the gaping hole in its head. "How can it be so alive if it's dead?"

"Necromancy," Xaden says from where he's leaning in the doorway, like that explains anything.

You've heard of necromancy of course — the ability to reanimate the dead, an extremely rare signet. As far as you're aware it's been half a century at the very least since there's last been a rider who had it. But on the other hand, what do you know?

"You think there's a necromancer here?"

Xaden nods.

"But why would they revive a dog and then just leave him lying there? I found him all alone in the dirt, Xay! There was no one there!"

"You said you thought it was dead at first, didn't you? It only moved when you touched it?"

"Well, yeah. But what—?" You break off when you understand what he's implying. "You think I'm a necromancer?!"

You don't listen to your brother's answer. As he nods, you reach out to your dragon. "Rexus? Am I a necromancer?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"How should I know? You could be, that's all I can tell you."

"But it hasn't even been that long since you started channelling. Can my signet really be manifesting already?"

"Certainly. Some are faster than others."

Damn. Can it really be true? You suppose you might indeed be a bit of an early bloomer, and Rexus is certainly powerful enough that a signet like necromancy seems possible. You were alone when you found the dog — the dead dog, who's alive now. The only logical conclusion is that it was you who reanimated it. Still, it's hard to wrap your head around the idea of yourself as a necromancer.

"But I didn't even do anything!"

"Didn't you? Or did you just not realize it?"

You can feel his amusement filling your head. Sometimes you think you bonded the dragon with the worst sense of humor on the entire continent. Watching you struggle seems to be his favorite form of entertainment, and he never gives you explanations about anything, always telling you to figure it out on your own.

"You're extremely unhelpful, Rexus, you know that?"

Xaden snaps his fingers in front of your face, effectively ripping you out of the frustrating conversation with your dragon. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No." You look at the dog again. His head is tilted to the side, so you can't see the hole in it. He looks almost normal from this angle, but now you notice the strange glow in his eyes, like there's a fire burning behind them. Magic? "Rexus is making fun of me."

Your brother shrugs. "Isn't he always?"

Yeah, that's true...

"Hey, Xaden? If I'm really a necromancer and it was me who reanimated the dog, then it's basically mine, right? Sooo... I can keep it, right?" you ask, pouting at Xaden. The dog has sat down by your feet and looks up at your brother too, wearing an expression eerily similar to your own. "Please?"

Xaden crosses his arms and opens his mouth — judging from his expression he wants to say no, but you don't let him.

"Please, Xay! You know I always wanted a dog!"

And you know so did he. You're sure you can convince him.

"But not a dead one!"

"A dog is a dog. And he's alive, even if he's dead! ...Okay, that sounds weird, but you know what I mean!"

"You're a rider. You don't have time for a dog."

Well, at least he's not saying that riders aren't allowed to have dogs. Is there anything about that in the Codex? You doubt there've been many people who attempted to bring a pet into the quadrant, so maybe, if you're lucky, no one ever bothered to make a rule about it. But even if there is — technically you're all deserted. Surely you can be a little lax with the Codex while in the midst of outright revolution, right?

"Sure I do. And he's dead anyway, so it's not like— Wait, do dead dogs need to eat and pee? Probably not, right?"

"I don't think so," Xaden agrees, "but the house is already full to the brim with riders and fliers. We don't need a dog causing chaos on top of that."

"He won't cause chaos. Promise! He'll be the bestest, most well-behaved dog you've ever seen, I swear!"

Xaden glares at you for a few seconds, clearly running out of arguments. Then he shakes his head. "Okay, you know what? This isn't my problem. I'm not even in charge of you. Ask one of your direct superiors if you can keep it."

A grin spreads over your face. You won.

"Bodhi!" You run to find your cousin, the dog right on your heels without you having to give a single command. "Bodhi, I found a dog! Can I keep it? Please! Xaden says I can if you're okay with it."

"That is not what I said," your brother complains somewhere behind you. You ignore him.

Bodhi stares at the dog. "That thing has a hole in the head. I can see its brain."

"Yes. He's dead. But also not. Now can I keep him?"

"Why are you asking me of all people that?"

"Because you're my section leader. And you'll say yes. Right?"

To your dismay Bodhi ignores your question. "Uh, can we maybe focus on the question of why and how you got an undead dog?"

"I found it dead in the dirt," you briefly explain, jumping up and down impatiently. Why can't he just focus on the important things?! "Apparently I'm a necromancer. At least that's what Xaden thinks. So, can I keep it?"

"A necromancer? Wow, that's—"

"Bodhi! Can I keep the dog?!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, I guess. But—"

"Thank you," you squeal, pressing a kiss to his cheek before running off.

"Well, she sure has her priorities straight," Bodhi says behind you. You still hear Xaden agreeing, then you're out of earshot.

First of all the dog — your dog, you remind yourself with a grin — needs a bath. And you need to sew his ear back on, and maybe try to close the head wound, too. It might not bother him, but it's annoying to accidentally end up with your fingers in his brain when you pet him. There should still be time enough for a bath before dinner, the rest can wait until later. And when you're done, you'll try and find a collar, so you can put a name tag on it. First you need to think of a name, of course...

The next day you bring your dog to class, earning you more than a few stares from classmates and professors alike.

"What in Malek's name—?!"

"That's Zombie."

"Zombie. You called your zombie-dog... Zombie?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wow. Very creative."

"Thank you."

"That doesn't explain what that thing is doing in here, though. This is Battle Brief, not a dog-sitting club."

"He doesn't like to be alone. Mainly because he drops dead again whenever I'm too far away, I guess. I promise he won't bother anyone, sir, really."

Throughout the day, you keep having to repeat this conversation with every one of your professors. Some, like Devera and the lieutenant colonel, accept Zombie's presence without much fuss. Others insist you remove the dog from their classrooms. By the end of the day it's clear to everyone that a collective decision has to be made, and you're summoned to the Assembly chamber, Zombie glued to your side as always.

Everyone has their eyes on the dog when you step into the room, some with obvious distaste, others merely curious — not all of them have met Zombie yet.

Their meeting seems to have been going on for a while already, and you wonder what other more important things they've been discussing. Judging by how weary everyone looks, you probably don't want to know.

"So... The issue of Cadet Riorson and her dog," Ulices starts.

Seriously? Issue? Now that's an exaggeration if you've ever heard one. Zombie is not an issue.

"What do you even want with that thing?" one of the women asks with a sneer. "It's disgusting."

You crouch down and take Zombie in your arms, covering his ears. "Don't listen to them, Zombie. You're the best."

Xaden, sitting in the fancy chair that used to be your dad's, rolls his eyes at you. "It's a fucking dog. A dead one, at that."

"Dead dogs have feelings too! And anyways," you add, turning to the assembly member who insulted Zombie, "Xaden said I can keep it."

"Hold on, I never said that," your brother protests. "I told you—"

"To ask Bodhi because 'it's not your problem'. And he said yes, so now I get to keep it."

"I never said to ask Bodhi. I just said—"

"But Bodhi is my section leader and he said I can keep it, so—"

One of the assembly members clears their throat, and you both fall quiet. "Could you skip the argument? I don't want to sit here all day."

"Right. Sorry. But since Xaden already said I can keep Zombie," — you glare at your brother, daring him to disagree with you again — "I really don't know why I'm even here."

"You're here because some of us don't like to have a dead dog staring at them while they're trying to teach you," Ulices snaps.

Two others nod. "If you want to play with corpses, do it outside."

Xaden pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Just let her keep the damn dog. It might not be the worst way to train her signet, and she'll never stop whining otherwise."

"I don't think keeping it is the issue here," Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh says. "And since it's Xaden's house it's up to him whether she gets to keep it in here or not, anyway. What we need to decide is whether she can bring it to class or not."

After some back and forth, they begrudgingly decide to allow it, on the condition that Zombie stays right at your feet — except during Emetterio's class, where he has to sit in the corner of the gym, and during flight lessons, for obvious reasons — and is absolutely silent so he doesn't disturb class.

"Now, this is under the assumption that the dog doesn't rot. I'm no expert on necromancy, but I think being reanimated should stop the decay. But if it starts to stink, it's getting thrown out, understand?"

You have no choice but to nod, and hope Zombie really won't decay. They dismiss you with another warning to keep the dog out of people's way.

From then on, you spend your every free minute practicing on Zombie. Keeping him alive and under your will comes to you almost naturally, but the farther he's away, the more energy it takes to do so. You work yourself to the edge of absolute exhaustion a few times trying to keep him reanimated from a longer distance, but your signet seems to grow stronger almost day by day, and it doesn't take long until you're able to keep him reanimated even when you're in a different room. Zombie's heartbreaking whines every time you bring him back after losing grip on your power and accidentally letting him drop dead are a great motivator. It still happens sometimes — during flight lessons, where you have no choice but leave him behind on the ground; when you're struggling with math or lesser magic and need all your focus for that; in your sleep — but you're getting there.

You're also getting curious for more. How many animals can you reanimate at once? Would raising a human from the dead be any different than an animal? Would they still have some form of consciousness, or would they be as mindlessly obedient as Zombie is? Will you ever be able to reanimate something as big as a dragon? How powerful is this signet of yours really? There's no end to all your questions, and Rexus is unhelpful as usual. 'Stop asking stupid questions,' he says, or, 'Don't even think of trying that, you silly girl,' or, his favorite, 'That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard.'

Then there's the issue with insects. Half of the times you kill a mosquito, it comes right back to life, without you meaning to do that. When you walk past a dead spider laying in some dusty corner, it suddenly comes alive and starts following you around until you notice and stop the power you accidentally let trickle into it. You're pretty sure you would soon have a whole army of dead insects trailing after you if you didn't constantly check for them and re-kill them — an idea Rexus, unlike you, finds absolutely hilarious.

Insects aside, you soon have a growing collection of undead pets. Zombie is the only one you keep reanimated at all times, always at your side; the others have to be content being dead when you aren't practicing with them. The two mice and one bird you have so far don't seem to mind. A good thing, because reanimating all three of them while also keeping up the flow of power into Zombie is far from easy — you don't manage to have them all moving around for more than a few minutes before you tire.

You always stop while you still have enough energy for Zombie; he's undeniably your favorite. Xaden told you it might be a better idea to practice with only the mice for now, and work your way up to bigger animals as you get stronger, but you refuse. Zombie hates being dead, and if you didn't keep him reanimated he would start to rot.

Your brother is away a lot, but when he's home, he's keeping a strict eye on what corpses you're allowed to bring inside. Your bird, for example, has to stay in the courtyard. Not just because Xaden thinks you'd end up wrecking windows and furniture if you let it fly inside, but also because of its advanced decay. How it can even fly with the way its wings are rotting off is a mystery to you, but it's fun to have it follow along during flight lessons, when you can focus all your energy on it, since Zombie is too far away on the ground.

One day when Xaden is away again and can't oversee your collection, you bring in another new pet. Unfortunately, you get caught by Bodhi.

"What have you got there?" he asks, stepping into your path with his arms crossed.

"It's, uh, a bunny?"

You clutch the living corpse closer to your chest, hoping to hide the state it's in from your cousin. Truth be told, it doesn't bear much resemblance to a bunny anymore. 'Pile of bones with a few chunks of rotting flesh and fur' would be a more fitting description. But dead animals don't exactly grow on trees, so you have to work with whatever you can get your hands on.

"You are not keeping that thing in the house."

"But—"

"No 'but'. We both know Xaden told you that you can only bring fresh corpses inside. If it stinks, it stays outside. And this bunny is the worst thing I've ever smelled."

You groan in annoyance. You knew that Xaden had asked Bodhi — as well as Violet and a few of your other friends — to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't drag anything too rotten inside when he isn't there, but you weren't prepared for them to take the task so damn seriously. The bunny does stink, you have to admit that, but you need to practice with something.

"Yeah, but—"

"No."

"But it's the only corpse I could find, and I need more to practice!"

"You can practice with it outside."

"Please, Bodhi, can't—"

"No."

"But—"

"Don't make me play the 'I'm your section leader'-card," he threatens. "If you don't listen to me I'll sign you up for all the worst chores."

"You're mean."

Bodhi shrugs. "Take that stinky thing back outside, then I won't have to be mean."

With a heavy sigh you relent. "Fiiine. But if you happen to find any fresher corpses lying around you have to give them to me."

"Corpses don't tend to just randomly lie around."

"I know. That's my problem. I'm just saying if you do come across any—"

"Then they're as good as yours," Bodhi assures you with a grin.

"Thanks."

You head back outside with the bunny. A glance over your shoulder as you do so shows you Bodhi is watching to make sure you actually take it outside. Damn it. Giving in, you take the bunny to the corner of the courtyard where you're also keeping your bird.

Bodhi makes true on his promise that any corpses he might find would be yours and brings you a dead rat the next week. You've got plenty of rodents already — they're the most common and easiest to find — but you suppose it's better than nothing. You wouldn't want to be greedy, and you're starting to run out of space, anyway.

So far, you've simply shoved the corpses into the biggest drawer of your desk — not the best idea, in hindsight. Since you're not keeping them constantly reanimated, the dead animals are starting to stink. As much as you hate to admit it, Xaden might have had a point when he insisted you're only allowed to bring fresh ones inside. Plus, as winter is descending over Aretia, the cold outside will keep them fresh longer.

Sighing, you decide it's time to relocate your collection — with the exception of Zombie, of course. He's as fresh as he was the day you found him, and will continue to live in your room with you.

"Get back here you little shit!"

You race down the hallway, the newest of your undead animals cradled in your arms, until you see Xaden and Violet coming toward you and quickly seize the chance to take cover behind your brother. He looks back at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in a silent question as a barefooted, pajama-clad and very agitated Bodhi comes to a stop in front of him.

"Bodhi stepped on my hedgehog and now he's acting as if that's my fault," you explain. "Can you tell him to fuck off, please?"

Amusement flashes in Xaden's eyes as his attention shifts to Bodhi. "How the fuck did you manage to step on a hedgehog?"

"It showed up out of fucking nowhere! I came out of my bathing chamber and suddenly that stupid thing was there, right under my foot. She sent it to my room on purpose, I know it!"

"Well, of course I did," you say, peeking out from behind Xaden. "But I didn't mean for you to step on it, I swear! I just wanted to show you that I've got a hedgehog now."

"Yeah, well, I noticed," Bodhi grumbles.

You giggle. Probably a bad idea, given his mood, but you can't help it when you think of what just happened. "You should have seen him jumping around on one foot and squealing," you tell Xaden and Violet.

Bodhi's scowl deepens, and he points a finger at you. "Just wait till I get my hands on you, you damn brat," he threatens.

Safe behind Xaden as you are, you dare to stick out your tongue at your cousin, who gives you another glare before turning and going back to his room while grumbling something about you being childish. There's a bloody footprint where he stood, which does make you feel a little bad for him. It really wasn't your fault, though. He should have watched where he was going.

You hold the hedgehog — who certainly didn't enjoy being stepped on any more than Bodhi enjoyed stepping on it — out to Violet and Xaden. "Isn't it the cutest?"

She nods. "Very cute. And it doesn't look dead at all."

"I know, right? It must have died only a few hours before I found it. Of old age, I think."

"You can tell how an animal died when you reanimate it?"

"Well, kind of. I can feel what they felt when they died, if they were in pain, hungry, warm or cold, stuff like that, and from that I can guess how they died. But it's not really exact. Maybe I'll get better at it eventually."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. It's already amazing how quickly you're learning to control your signet."

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. Being praised like that by a rider as powerful as Violet is doing wonders for your ego.

"Where did you leave Zombie?" Xaden wants to know. By now everyone has gotten so used to the dog being glued to your side that people get confused on the rare occasions he isn't with you.

"He's in my room. I'm good enough to keep both him and the hedgehog under control from this distance now," you proudly explain. "If I go any further away than the staircase he'll drop dead, though. Unless I let go of the hedgehog, that is."

"How many of the animals can you control at once now? When you're in the same room?"

"Uh... All the ones I have. But only over a short time."

Xaden pets the top of your head. "You really are learning fast," he praises. "But what's the hedgehog doing in here, anyway? I thought you're storing all the corpses outside now."

"I am. I just wanted to show it to Bodhi."

A couple weeks later, you're sitting in the snow-covered courtyard with all your undead pets, letting them run in faster and faster circles as you lurk for your brother. When he finally shows up, your minions have him circled in an instant. Xaden is completely unfazed by your antics, merely rolling his eyes as your bunnies, rats, mice, hedgehog, horse and Zombie run around him, kicking up snow, your bird flying circles right over his head.

"I want a human," you declare.

Xaden blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"A human. For my necromancy."

"We just found you a dead horse a few days ago," he reminds you.

"That's boring. I want to know if I'm strong enough to reanimate a human yet. And what that'd be like."

"No."

"Come on! Please!"

"No."

"Why not?! Rexus thinks I'm strong enough to try it!"

"I'm not doubting that," Xaden says, "but just because you can doesn't mean you should."

You sigh, and let your animals stop running around him. They drop dead, except for Zombie, who comes to you to cuddle. In all honesty, this is exactly the answer you expected. You're well aware that disturbing the dead is frowned upon, that necromancers aren't supposed to use their powers on humans — not unless the human consented to it prior to their death. There's even something about it in the Codex, calling it desecration of the dead.

But how are you supposed to test the limits of your signet and grow stronger if you're not allowed to practice on anything bigger? Sure, the horse is a start, but it's still just a horse. And Rexus won't even let you ride it, because apparently that would be both insulting to him, and below your dignity as a dragon rider — emphasis on dragon.

You bury your face in Zombie's fur, inhaling the scent of the flowery soap you washed him with.

"Are you seriously sulking now?" Xaden asks.

"Yes. Will throwing a tantrum change your mind?"

"No. And you'll catch a cold if you keep sitting in the snow, so how about you try behaving like an adult for a change?"

"No." You cross your arms. "I'm bored."

"Lucky you."

"Are you really, really sure I can't have a human to practice on?"

"Absolutely sure. If you're so bored, go to the gym. You've been neglecting sparring practice over your necromancy."

You pull a face. He does have a point — though you're a good fighter, you can never train enough. But you'd rather work on your signet.

"None of the other first-years can keep up with me anyway."

That's a blatant lie — while you really are the best in your year, there are a bunch of other cadets strong enough for you to practice with.

"No one said you have to spar with a first-year. Meet me in the gym in an hour."

Your mood is instantly improved. You don't get to spar with your brother very often, and your chances of actually winning a fight against him are somewhere between slim and non-existent, but you revel in getting to try. Of course you know Xaden knows that, and is taking advantage of it to get you to stop bugging him for a human corpse. For the time being, you'll do him the favor.

Xaden side-steps the dead horse and heads for the entrance. "And don't leave your fucking corpses laying in everyone's way," he calls back over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes at the way he makes it sound as if you're a child leaving their toys laying around. Then again, he's not entirely wrong. You tap into the stream of energy from Rexus, directing it into the dead animals and letting them walk into a corner of the courtyard, where you let them drop dead again.

Rexus was surprisingly silent while you waited for your brother, but now he's asking you to come see him.

"I have a surprise for you," he says when you ask why.

"Did you kill someone for me to practice on?"

You're joking — mostly. With Rexus you can never be sure. He doesn't reply, but you can feel his amusement. When you reach your dragon, there's a brown heap of bloody fur laying at his feet. It almost looks like—

"Is that a bear?!"

"Yes."

"For me?"

"You wanted something bigger than a horse, didn't you?"

"So you went and killed a bear?"

"If you don't want it I'll just eat it," he says with a mental shrug.

"Don't you dare! You can bet your scaly ass I want it!"

You're already reaching for your power to try and reanimate the bear. This is going to be fun.

[writinginatree]

Zombie 2

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sister!reader

Summary: Signet sparring and other antics.

Warnings: Spoilers for Onyx Storm, (un)dead animals, bugs & insects.

Part 1

You want to go home.

In the weeks you've been back at Basgiath, that thought has become your near-constant companion, popping into your head daily, sometimes even hourly. The war college sucks, more so than ever before now that Aetos has been made the commanding general.

There's a clear divide between Navarrian and Aretian cadets, and it's always the former targeting the latter. You'd think they would be grateful you came back to save their asses, but no. Despite the truth being out in the open now, you're still viewed as traitors, attacked and degraded at every opportunity. Xaden may have gotten your father's title and lands back, but that does nothing to make people respect you. If anything, it made the tensions worse. No matter where you go or what you do, there's always someone sneering at you, listening for any information they might be able to use against your brother and Violet.

With Zombie following your every step as always, you're easily recognizable, but he also makes the other cadets think twice about actually messing with you. Muscled and big enough that he could be mistaken for a wolf if it weren't for his rounded ears, Zombie must have been intimidating even alive, and with the roughly sewn up hole in his head and the magic glow behind his eyes, he looks truly ferocious.

Unlike your peers, who are used to the undead dog by now and have grown somewhat fond of him, the Navarrian cadets loathe Zombie. Whether it's from disgust at the fact that he's a living corpse, or jealousy about you having such a rare signet, it's obvious that most of them would like nothing more than to be rid of him. Because of that, you've taken to bringing Zombie along even for flight maneuvers, gripped securely in a grumbling Rexus's claws. You wouldn't put it past your enemies to set him on fire or throw him in the ravine if you left him dead and unsupervised.

Leadership isn't happy about having a dog in the war college, either. It's only thanks to Major Devera and Brennan that you were allowed to keep him. They'd both advocated for you, and the latter even used his connections in the Healer Quadrant to have Zombie declared your emotional support dog, a status that allows the dark-furred mutt to follow wherever you go.

Even so, you have to be careful. General Aetos is probably just waiting for an excuse to have Zombie taken away from you. With all the rules you suddenly have to follow again, it's a wonder you haven't given him and his cronies cause to punish you yet.

After the freedom you had in Aretia, Basgiath is stifling, a constant litany of don't do this, don't say that, don't go there, don't speak to your superiors like that, don't, don't, don't. Of course there were some rules you'd had to follow at home, too, but things were much more relaxed there. You sure as hell hadn't had a curfew. If you wanted to sit in the courtyard at midnight to practice your signet, no one said a word, so long as you were quiet enough not to disturb anyone's sleep. But here? Lights out at ten and then it's stay in your room until sunrise.

You're not even allowed to bring any corpses into the citadel; no, if you want to practice with anything but Zombie, you're forced to trudge up to the flight field and have Rexus take you to a nearby mountain range.

Not that you have a lot of corpses here. All the undead animals you'd spent so long collecting remain in Aretia. Rexus let you have the skeletons and less tasty parts of a few sheep soon after your return here, which you suppose is better than nothing, but it can hardly compare to the small army you'd had. You think ruefully of the bear Rexus had killed for you mere days before leaving Aretia. Buried in a heap of snow as you left it, it should hopefully remain fresh until you get a chance to retrieve it, though what you'll do with it then, you don't know. Maybe Ridoc could make some kind of cooling chamber for you to keep all your corpses fresh once spring rolls around. Otherwise, they'll quickly decay once it starts to get warmer.

A month ago, you would have considered that a high-priority problem, but with everything else going on, it seems of little importance, so long as it doesn't affect Zombie. Who cares about a few dead sheep and mice, or even a bear, when venin are draining more land by the day, Aretia's wards are faltering, and your own brother is a venin initiate and struggling not to get worse?

Between all of that and the constant hostility, you haven't been having a good time at all lately. Today has the potential to finally be better, though.

Xaden is back from the front, and apparently, he'll get to stay. The thought of your brother as a professor is strange, but if that's what it takes to keep him inside the relative safety of the wards, you're not complaining. And this new signet sparring class he's supposed to teach certainly makes for a fun change from the usual routine.

Sitting in the Infantry Quadrant's amphitheatre, you watch with a grin as Xaden nonchalantly kicks everyone's asses, and wait for your turn to face him.

The thought of using your signet for sparring is both intriguing and strange, and not just because the use of magic is forbidden during regular sparring matches. You've always practiced by yourself until now — not alone, technically, since you take Zombie with you wherever you go, and often sat in the very public courtyard back home to play with your other animals, but there has never been anyone else actually involved in your sessions. The last known necromancer died some seventy years ago, and before that, there hadn't been one in centuries, so it's not like there is anyone around who has experience in training someone with your signet.

Back in Aretia, Felix had merely given you some general pointers on things to keep in mind when wielding. With how many cadets he had to train, he'd probably been glad there was at least one who could be left to train unsupervised, your signet being so solitary in nature. Unlike signets like Violet's or Xaden's, yours can't harm anyone if you lose control. Technically you should be taking lessons with Professor Carr now that you're back at Basgiath, but you refuse. Based on everything you've heard about his methods from Violet, you're better off training your signet on your own.

A third-year from your squad slinks back to the edge of the pit, brushing off dust. Xaden took less than a minute to defeat him, not even breaking a sweat. After half a dozen matches that ended with his opponents — or should you be calling them his students? — disarmed or pinned to the ground, your brother still looks as unruffled and bored as ever.

You expected as much. He's not considered the most powerful rider of this generation without reason. Even in regular combat there are few people who can keep up with him, and with signets added into the mix, he's damn near undefeatable. The only one who might actually stand a chance against him is Violet.

Head cocked to the side, Xaden sweeps his gaze over the gathered cadets. "Alright. First-years, your turn. Who wants to start?"

You're already raising your hand before Xaden is done speaking, barely restraining yourself from jumping up and down in time to the excited wagging of Zombie's tail.

Xaden rolls his eyes almost imperceptibly, and gives you a nod when no one else volunteers, the hint of a smile on his lips. "Cadet Riorson, then. Come show us what you've got."

After the way he wiped the floor with your more experienced peers, you suppose it's no wonder you're the only one eager to try your luck. You have no illusions about actually defeating him. There's no way he'll go easy on you — if anything, he'll demand more of you than anyone else. But unlike the Basgiath professors, you know he would never hurt you or try to destroy Zombie. Unlike the other professors, you can trust him. With him, you can safely learn and even have fun while you do.

With Zombie at your heels, you skip across the cobblestone and onto the mat in the center of the amphitheatre's pit, hair bouncing with every step.

Truth be told, you have no clue how to use your signet in a fight. The closest thing to combat you've done with your undead animals so far was to have your horse chase Ridoc through the courtyard, chewing on his hair every time it got close enough to him. The battle of Basgiath was a wasted opportunity, stuck in the ward chamber with the other first-years as you had been. You're still a little pissed about that. If Xaden had let you fight, you might have gotten the chance to try reanimating a dragon. Assuming you were capable of that, you might have changed the course of the whole battle, might have even prevented Xaden from turning venin!

Well, okay, maybe not that, but it certainly would have been epic.

"The Empyrean would have demanded your death for such a sacrilegious act," Rexus grumbles in your head.

"I know, I know."

He's told you countless times already that you should be glad you'd been kept from committing such an offense, that dragons are the one creature you must never attempt to use your powers on. The idea remains alluring all the same.

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions on how to do this?" you change the topic.

"If it were me in your place, I would simply torch the shadow wielder, but since you cannot breathe fire, you will have to make do with your meager human abilities."

"Very helpful..."

Not that you expected anything else. Rexus never helps you unless it's a life-or-death situation, and unlike most people around you, he's not impressed by your signet, either. Anyone can play with corpses, he claims, though he admits none do it as effectively as you.

You'll just have to improvise. Luckily, you're pretty good at that.

Raising your mental shields to prevent Rexus from distracting you with smartass commentary, you and Zombie start to circle your brother, each going in the opposite direction.

Xaden just stands there, perfectly relaxed, and doesn't bother to draw a weapon. He appears not to be watching your movements, but you know it's a trick. Your shadow tells him exactly where you are.

You circle him once, silently sliding a dagger from its sheath. He's certainly taking notice, but what else can you do?

Back in front of him, you pounce, hoping it will distract him from Zombie. If Xaden focuses on you and the dagger in your hand, maybe Zombie will manage to knock him to the ground.

Your brother still doesn't move. His lethal focus is fixed on you, running the few steps that separate you, but it's softened by a trace of amusement that makes you want to kick his ass.

You'll fucking show him what you can do.

You're right in front of him now. You raise your blade, planning to put it against his neck, but Xaden takes a single step to the side so you rush past him. Before you can turn, something wraps around your ankles. Shadows, you have time to think before slamming face-first into the mat.

But you're not quite defeated yet.

To the right of you, Zombie ducks to leap at your brother's back. The muscles in his legs flex, but before his paws can leave the mat, shadows wrap around them, too. He stumbles and falls with an indignant yelp.

You smack the mat. "Damn it!"

Standing over you, Xaden tuts and releases the shadows, which not only tripped you, but also spread underneath you to cushion your fall.

Despite your frustration, you almost smile about that. If asked, he would claim to treat all his students equally, but he couldn't turn off his older brother instincts even if he tried.

The disappointed look he gives you, however, is all teacher-like. "I expect better from you. In a battle, you have to be aware of your surroundings at all times — all of your surroundings, including what's at your feet."

"It's not like I can do anything about your shadows," you grumble, picking yourself up off the floor and ordering Zombie to heel with a wave of your hand. "I only control things that are dead, in case you forgot."

"You could have dodged, if you'd been fast enough."

"And then what? My signet isn't exactly helpful against yours."

Bodhi has an undeniable advantage in this class, being able to simply shut off his opponents signets. You suppose you could have it worse, though. Signets like Imogen's or Dain's seem even more useless for this than your own. If you had your whole collection of undead animals with you, you might have been able to overwhelm Xaden with the sheer number of them.

"That's why we're practicing this," he says. "Chances are that sooner or later, you will encounter venin with signets you can't fight. You have to learn to work around that, get too close for them to wield, or kill them from a distance if their signet has a short range. If you can't do anything against my sigent, then keep me from using it. Evade my attacks and engage in close combat. Use your signet not to fight mine, but to stop me."

You try to ignore the implication that you might have to fight him for real someday. The thought makes you sick, but you keep the distress about it off your face, just like you've been doing the whole time since you learned about his condition. Someone has to stay optimistic, and it sure as hell won't be Xaden. Everyone who knows about his little problem acts like it's only a question of time until he loses control and fully turns venin, but you refuse to even consider that option.

Violet will find a cure. Anything else is unacceptable.

When the next signet sparring lesson comes around, you're better prepared. With the land still gripped tight in winter's claws, it wasn't easy to find what you needed, but you knew where to look. Venturing deep into Basgiath's basements and forgotten corners, you'd found and killed enough flys, bugs, and even some worms you dug from the earth to make a tiny army. They fill your pockets now, silently buzzing with the magic you let trickle into their dead bodies, ready to launch themselves at Xaden.

But not yet. Not yet. You have to wait for the right moment, let him think he's up against only you and Zombie. You have to get close enough to strike while he's busy with the vermin. The distraction they're supposed to provide will only buy you a second or two at most, you're well aware of that.

If you time it right, it will be just long enough to put a blade against his throat, or have Zombie knock him down. You'd be content if you manage that much. Winning is out of the question, you know that, but with how many people are watching today, you want to at least do a little better than last time. The amphitheatre's seats are full of infantry, and Garrick is standing on the sidelines. Technically you're all supposed to go up against him today, but you'd insisted on another chance against your brother, who was willing enough to indulge you.

You don't bother having Zombie sneak behind Xaden; after last time, he'll be expecting that. You just rush right at him, Zombie a little in front of you.

He jumps at Xaden, who throws up a wall of shadows that knocks the dog aside.

Now!

Insects swarm from your pockets and launch themselves at your brother's face. He recoils. Shadows rise between you like smoke to keep the cloud of them from his face, all those tiny bugs aiming for his eyes and tickling his nose, the big roaches trying to get into his mouth. There's no way he can see what you're doing.

You're upon him in an instant, hooking your foot behind his leg and pulling. He sways, but doesn't fall — not until Zombie slams into him from the side.

Xaden shoves him off, back on his feet before you can even think about pinning him in place, but that's fine. The fact that you managed to knock him over at all is victory enough, and you don't resist as he disarms you, Zombie already tied up by shadows and the insects squished to mush.

"Not bad," your brother decrees, releasing you and the dog. "But I'm sure you can do better if you really try."

Since your match was the last one for today, Xaden dismisses the class and walks away.

A little sulky that your efforts still weren't enough to make him proud, you stick out your tongue at his back.

"I saw that," Xaden calls without turning back.

You narrow your eyes at the shadow at your feet. Of fucking course Xaden is using the damn thing to monitor you.

You play innocent anyway. "Saw what?"

Faster than you can react, your shadow comes alive. It stretches and grows solid until it stands before you like a mannequin made from pure darkness, lifts its hand and flicks your forehead.

"Ow!"

You swat at the damn thing, but it's already gone back to being a regular shadow on the ground.

"That's not fair," you whine at your brother's back.

"Get used to it. Your opponents in this war won't fight fair, either."

"Yes, Professor," you mock.

Your brother — a professor. The idea remains absolutely laughable, even if you can't deny he's doing a really good job so far. Despite his usual arrogant and murderous attitude, it's clear that unlike certain other staff members, he cares about the well-being of his students.

When it's not currently your turn on the mat, you like to use signet sparring classes to sit with Violet's squad and help them research the isles, Andarna's kind, and a possible venin cure. So far, you haven't come across anything worthwhile in the tomes Vi gave you to read. She doesn't let you help too much, says you need to focus on classes. You get where she's coming from, but it's hard to focus on learning physics and battle strategies when you'd much rather be searching for ways to help your brother.

"You know, I'm surprised you haven't yet complained about wanting to be part of quest squad," Violet comments one day while you're gathered in the amphitheatre with books on your laps.

Oh, you've thought about it. Of course you have. No one would want to miss out on an adventure like that, and you're no exception in that regard. Going on a quest to find the lost seventh breed of dragons and cure your brother would be fucking awesome. But after about five minutes of daydreaming about it, you had realized that since the isles are void of magic, your signet wouldn't work there, which would mean leaving Zombie subject to decay. Thus, no questing for you.

You shrug, turning the page of your book. "I'm not going anywhere where Zombie can't come. And even if I wanted to, you wouldn't let me come anyway, would you?"

"No, I guess not," Violet says, apologetically shaking her head. "We need you here."

You finally look up at that, alarmed. "What? No, no, no, don't tell me I have to deal with Xay's duke duties while he's away!"

Being the only other living person bearing the Riorson name technically makes you Xaden's heir, but everyone knows you're not suited for a position that comes with so much responsibility. Bodhi would do a much better job of representing Aretia while Xaden searches the isles with quest squad. Considering you can barely sit still through an hour of battle brief, political meetings would be the death of you. Surely Xaden will have the sense to know better than to leave Tyrrendor in your clumsy hands.

Bodhi snorts at your panic. "I'm guessing he'll make us take care of things together."

Violet nods. "That's the plan. Don't worry, Lewellen is still there too to speak for Tyrrendor, so you'll only have to chime in occasionally about things concerning Aretia in particular."

"Great..." You grimace. "Are you sure Zombie and I can't come?"

She is, and when you bring the matter up again with Xaden after their first trip to Deverelli, practically begging him to take you when they leave to search the other isles, it turns out he has ulterior motives in making you lead during his absence. You need the practice, he says, because if they don't find a cure, you will have to become duchess.

The words feel like a slap to the face. You knew he didn't have much hope, especially after he channelled from the alloy in Deverelli, but that it's bad enough to make him want to prepare you for a future where he's gone...

"Fuck that! Violet will find a cure."

"Maybe. But what if there isn't one? If I lose what's left of my soul and killing me becomes the only way to stop me?"

You don't want to consider that. He's still him, is still human. He won't turn completely and lose himself. He won't. You hold onto that thought, will it to be true. This war has already taken so much from you; you refuse to accept that it might take your brother, too.

"There has to be a cure. And if there isn't, we'll create one. You'll be fine. You just have to keep your shit together a little longer."

Xaden shakes his head. "I know you don't want to hear it, but—"

"If you fuck up, I'm just going to add you to my collection," you interrupt. "Neither Bodhi nor me want to be your fucking heir, and you can't make us. But we can make you keep doing your job even dead. You're always brooding and acting dead inside anyway, so it's not like anyone would notice a difference."

You're not even joking. Your inability to let go of the things and people you're attached to might very well be the reason you manifested a necromancy signet in the first place, so if your brother thinks he can get out of his responsibilities by dying when things get hard, he'd better think again.

A huff of a laugh escapes Xaden. It's a sad sound, but better than the depressed silence you've come to expect as of late. "You know what? Fine. If it comes to that, you have my permission to try. I know how badly you want to test your powers on a human."

"I do, but don't you dare think that means I'm okay with you dying. You'd better fight to hold on to your humanity, or I'll make you walk around in a frilly pink dress when you're dead."

"I'll try," he says with a wry smile. "I can't promise I won't slip up and turn completely, but I promise I'm trying my best to stay in control."

"Good."

If it really comes to the worst and Violet has to kill him — it will have to be her if that happens; no one else is strong enough to defeat him — then you won't hesitate to make true on your threat to turn him into an undead puppet, rules be damned. There's no telling whether he would retain any form of consciousness, but if Zombie is anything to go by, the chances of it seem good. At least you think Zombie has retained his own personality. Felix on the other hand told you it's probably just your own personality imprinted on the dog through your signet. You'll never know for certain, since you have no way of finding out what Zombie had been like before he died. Unless—

The thought gives you pause. Can Dain read the memories of animals, too? You're not sure if dogs have memories in the same sense that humans do, let alone whether Zombie remembers anything from before his death, but it would be interesting to know. It's doubtful whether your wingleader would be willing to indulge such inconsequential curiosity, but you suppose it can't hurt to ask. He might surprise you by showing some curiosity of his own. After all, it's probably not everyday that he's offered a chance to test his signet on an undead subject.

As if to prove your thoughts about him having a personality right, Zombie trots up to where your brother sits and lays his head on his knee.

He does things like that sometimes, acting so much like a regular dog that at times you almost forget he's dead and under your control. You never know whether it's your own subconscious wishes and expectations he acts on, or a ghostly echo of the dog he used to be.

Either way, he's probably right about Xaden being in need of some love. Cuddles aren't going to fix any of his problems, but— Wait, actually, cuddles might indeed be beneficial to help keep him from channeling. Everyone knows cuddles are good for relaxing, and surely a relaxed Xaden is much less likely to accidentally channel from the earth again than a stressed Xaden.

Maybe you should make it a habit to send Zombie to him for cuddles whenever the opportunity arises, because gods know your brother won't let himself accept any comfort from you or anyone else.

He clearly doesn't trust himself with any physical contact. Where he used to constantly be touching Violet, as if she would disappear into thin air if he let go of her for even a moment, you never see them holding hands or kissing anymore. It admittedly is a blessing that you no longer have to witness their public make out sessions, but you can tell there's more behind it than the codex-induced 'breakup'. Xaden is scared. If you tried to hug him, he'd probably have a panic attack from fear of accidentally draining you.

When it comes to Zombie, he seems to have no such fears. You're not sure whether to be glad or offended about that. To you, Zombie's undead life is worth as much as anyone else's, but on the other hand, he's already dead, so it's not like Xaden can accidentally kill him. If he were to channel from Zombie, it would be your magic he would drain. The worst that could happen would probably be Zombie temporarily dropping dead, the way he does when you're out of range or lose control over your signet. Unless, of course, Xaden took enough to make you burn out, but that's hardly something that can happen by accident.

Nothing happens at all when he pets Zombie's head, other than the dog enthusiastically wagging its tail. Xaden traces the crooked line of stitches that hold together the fur over the hole in Zombie's skull. He's still broody and sullen, nothing will change that, but his posture is slightly more relaxed.

"Hey, can I leave Zombie with you for an hour or two? I'm supposed to meet Bodhi for sparring and I don't like leaving Zombie sitting in the gym corner where those Navarrian jerks could hurt him while I'm distracted."

"Sure," Xaden agrees.

Zombie sits, leaning against your brother's leg and nuzzling his head against his hand as if to say Keep petting me.

Xaden does.

Leaving his room, you smile to yourself. Mission convince Xaden to make me part of quest squad might have failed, but your new mission Zombie-cuddles for Xaden is going well, and maybe that's more important.

[writinginatree]

From the second part of Zombie (which I hope I'll finally manage to finish this week!)

You're upon him in an instant, hooking your foot behind his leg and pulling. He sways, but doesn't fall — not until Zombie slams into him from the side. Xaden shoves him off, back on his feet before you can even think about pinning him in place, but that's fine.

this week's word is...

How to play: Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[writinginatree]

Can you write something about garrick, like him dating a tyrrish girl right before the rebellion and she gets pregnant but then the rebellion happens and he breaks up with her because he doesn’t want to put her in even more danger and then they get separated after the apostpsy and he doesn’t know about his child (cause she is hurt by him and doesn’t reply to his letters) and when they meet again in basgiath he eats his heart out to win her back and also finally founds out about his child?

Sorry it’s a bit long😂

Sorry but 1) my requests are closed at the moment, and 2) I'm not comfortable writing anything that involves pregnancy or the reader being a parent. Thanks for understanding.

[writinginatree]

Here you go, sorry for the wait! <3

heyy!! i love ur writing sm <3 would you consider writing a angsty hurt/comfort fic for xaden/reader? possibly about an injury or about xaden being venin? thankuu :))

Yes, absolutely!

[writinginatree]

Whatever It Takes

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/reader

Summary: When you're gravely wounded in battle, Xaden does the unthinkable to save you.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood and injury

Anonymous requested: would you consider writing a angsty hurt/comfort fic for xaden/reader? possibly about an injury or about xaden being venin?

Xaden lost focus on the battle as soon as he caught sight of you again. He had lost you in the fray some time ago, each of you doing your separate parts to win back control over the outpost. Though it had made him anxious not to be at your side, covering your back, Xaden knew you were more than capable of holding your own, and did his best not to worry.

But in those long minutes since he last saw you, things had gone sideways. The battle as a whole was slowly turning in your group's favor, but you were right in the thick of it, caught on the ground and surrounded by venin on all sides. Blood covered you from head to foot, though the distance was too great for Xaden to tell how much of it was your own.

Without really looking, he dodged an attack from his own opponent. Shit, he had go get rid of this guy so he could come to your aid, and quickly.

Ignoring the pain of a nearing burnout as he let Sgaeyl's power flood him, Xaden forced himself to tear his eyes off you and rushed at the venin. Trapped by shadows that were barely solid enough to hold him anymore, the dark wielder met a quick end at Xaden's dagger.

Before the shriveling body had hit the ground, Xaden's attention was already back on you. Still occupied with the two venin before you, still oblivious to the one approaching from behind you.

Fuck.

Xaden raced towards you, reaching out with his shadows, but he was still too far away. If he hadn't been so exhausted already, maybe he could have done something, but there was no point dwelling on ifs. With no strength left to wield his magic, he would simply have to run and hope he got to you in time to help with his blades.

All around him, his friends and comrades were fighting for their lives, venin draining the earth unchecked, but Xaden only had eyes for you. He dodged the enemies in his way, leaving them for someone else to defeat rather than wasting precious time on doing so himself. He needed to reach you before that venin did; nothing else mattered.

If only he were a distance wielder like Garrick, he thought. Even running as fast as he could, Xaden was too damn slow. His muscles ached from all the fighting he'd already done, lungs burning with every panting breath. Still he pushed himself to run just a little faster.

The dragons were preoccupied with a pair of wyvern in the airspace far above you, and couldn't warn you or help, either.

Almost there now. Would you hear him over the clamour of battle, or should he save his breath for running? And if you heard, would his warning help, or only distract you?

In the second he spent debating it, one of the venin in front of you went down, felled by your alloy-hilted dagger. The other rushed you, keeping you distracted from the one at your back that had almost reached you now.

Trying and failing to stop him with his shadows, Xaden decided to hell with it and screamed a warning.

The venin you'd been fighting — now caught between you and Xaden — turned, just as Xaden struck. She sunk dead to the ground, but he felt no relief as you came back into view behind her.

Instead, terror seized his heart.

A sword protruded from your chest. Features frozen in an expression of shock, you stared down at the blade, hands half raised as if to grasp it. A wet gasp followed as you collapsed to your knees, the blade sliding free.

Xaden was at your side in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees and catching you by the shoulders before you could fall face-first into the dirt. The sword had missed your heart, but it didn't take a healer to tell that the wound would prove fatal all the same if you didn't immediately get help.

Behind you, the venin bastard laughed. Obviously eager to watch you choke on your own blood, he seemed in no hurry to finish you off.

Up above, your dragon roared with fury, but he couldn't break out of the fight he was engaged in.

In an attempt to slow the bleeding, Xaden engulfed your torso in shadow. Even that little bit of magic was pushing his limits at this point, but he ignored the pain, ignored the feverish feeling of the magic trying to escape his control, ignored everything that wasn't you.

As much as he wanted to rush you to the nearest mender, he knew the venin who'd wounded you wouldn't let him take you away without a fight, so he gently lowered you to the ground.

"X-xaden?"

Your eyes were glazed with pain and shock, but still somewhat alert. The fear in your voice was like a dagger straight to his heart.

"I'm here, love. You'll be okay. Just— just stay awake for me, yeah?"

"It—" A wet cough interrupted you, your voice already frighteningly weak. "It hurts."

Around the both of you, the battle continued to rage, but all Xaden could see was your blood. So much of it, not just from the wound, flowing steadily despite the shadow bandage, but also staining your lips when you coughed.

Your lungs. The blade must have gone through your lungs.

You needed a mender — now.

But the venin was still there, slowly circling the both of you, enjoying every second of Xaden's panic and your suffering. He wasn't going to just let you go.

"I know. I'll get you out of here," Xaden promised. "Just a minute, love. Whatever you do, don't close your eyes."

Still kneeling before you, Xaden lifted his head to glare at the venin.

He had to kill this fucker and get you to safety now, and there was only one way to do that. He was already toeing the edge of burnout, too exhausted to quickly defeat his opponent — maybe too exhausted to defeat him at all. Not with what power he had.

Not allowing himself to think past the immediate need to save you, Xaden pressed a palm flat to the earth. He tapped into that sheer endless source of magic, even as Sgaeyl screeched at him to stop. He couldn't; not with your life at stake. If becoming a monster was the price he had to pay in order to save you, then so be it, because without you, his life would be meaningless. Whatever it took to keep from losing you, Xaden was willing to do it. He would set the whole world on fire if there was even the slightest chance it would prevent your death.

The venin before him cackled, opening his mouth to mock him, but Xaden gave him no time to do so. Stolen power thrumming through his veins, he was stronger than ever before, his shadows unstoppable. They crowded in around the venin, lifting him into the air and yanked, ripping his helplessly thrashing form apart limb by limb.

Xaden didn't bother to watch, gently scooping you into his arms as his shadows dropped what was left of the venin to the ground and dissolved.

Your head lolled to the side, your body completely limp — dead weight. A panicked sort of despair constricted his chest, threatening to shatter him. Had it all been for nothing?

Then your lashes fluttered, and Xaden was able to keep breathing. Still alive. You were still alive, if just barely. The rise and fall of your chest was much too shallow, every breath an effort. Xaden could practically hear the blood slowly filling your airways.

Hurry. He had to hurry.

"Stay with me," he begged. "We'll get you to a mender. Just hang on a little longer."

You open your eyes to dimmed lights and a warm weight against your arm. Your mouth is dry and tastes faintly of metal, your mind fuzzy with that heavy feeling you get from too much sleep.

You're in your room. For some reason, that strikes you as strange. Hadn't you been somewhere else before you fell asleep?

Dizzy and anxious, you close your eyes again to sort through the mess of your thoughts.

Fighting — you had been fighting.

Slowly, the memories of the battle resurface. A horde of dark wielders and their wyvern had breached the border; not a terribly big one, but enough of them to be a serious threat to the outposts in their way. You'd flown out to face them with Xaden and some of the others.

The two of you had dismounted to face the venin already on the ground while your friends dealt with those that stayed on their wyvern. Your dragons covering you against attacks from above, you had fought for what seemed like a long time, and eventually gotten separated. Outnumbered, you'd gotten surrounded without realizing it. A blinding pain, the sight of that blade sticking from your chest. That's when you'd known there was a third venin behind you.

Everything that followed remains blurry, drowned out by agony.

You remember falling, the panic as you tried to breathe and coughed up blood instead. The certainty that you would die there, drowned by the blood slowly filling your airways. Xaden kneeling before you, begging you to stay awake. The raw fear in his eyes, fear like you've never seen from him before. And then he had—

Your eyes fly open.

No. No, it can't be. You must have imagined that, delirious from the blood loss as you were. There's no way Xaden channeled from the earth to defeat the venin who had stabbed you.

Is there?

You glance down at his dozing form, heart racing in your chest. Gods, if he turned venin because of you, because you failed to keep track of your surroundings in battle and almost got killed for it, you'll never forgive yourself.

Bent over the edge of the bed with his hand clasped around yours and his head resting against your arm, he's inches away from sliding off his chair. The muscles in his back and neck are tense even in sleep, his jaw clenched. Is it just worry for you that has him so on edge, or the knowledge of having done something he can't take back, something sure to get him killed if anyone finds out?

Feeling the slight twitch of your hand under his own, Xaden shoots upright in his chair, wild eyes scanning you like he can still see the wounds that had nearly killed you.

"Oh thank gods," he breathes. "You're awake."

You could have sworn the beautiful onyx of his eyes had been rimmed with red when you'd briefly managed to open your own as he carried you off the battlefield, but now, they look as they always did. Had you truly imagined it then, or has the red simply faded already? If what you recall reading is correct, then the red rims aren't permanent in the early stages of turning venin.

You suppose the only way to find out what really happened is to ask. Later, you decide. You'll ask him how he defeated that venin later. For now, you're just glad to be alive.

"How long was I out?"

By the way your voice scratches in your throat, it must have been a while.

"Two days and a half. The mender said it would be better to keep you sedated for a while because breathing would be very painful right after mending. You had a lot of blood in your lungs they had to extract." Xaden's brows scrunch. "Does it still hurt?"

You consciously pay attention to your next breath, and note no discomfort other than that of stiff muscles and the dull ache of still healing scars. "Just a little sore."

"Good. Is there anything you need?"

"Maybe a glass of water," you say.

You feel well enough that you could get up and get it for yourself, but you can tell Xaden needs to feel useful, to take care of you, so you let him do it.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before getting up, and another when he returns and hands you the water, sitting down on the edge of the bed instead of in the chair. Taking the glass from you once you're done drinking and setting it on the bedside table, Xaden twines his fingers with yours, and brings your joint hands up to kiss your knuckles.

"What happened after you took me to the mender? Did we win?"

"So I've been told," Xaden says with a nod. Looking down at your hands, he admits, "I didn't rejoin the battle. I just couldn't bear to let you out of my sight."

Your heart cracks open at the sheer vulnerability in his voice.

"Come here."

He hesitates for a second, then climbs fully into the bed, taking care to keep his weight off your still healing torso as he settles into your arms.

"When I picked you up and you weren't moving, I thought I lost you," he mumbles against your neck.

"But you didn't," you remind him, running a hand through his hair. "And you're not going to. I'm still here. I won't let anyone or anything take me from you."

Xaden nods, but his breaths are slightly uneven, like he's trying hard not to cry.

Unsure what more you could say to comfort him, you merely hold him.

[writinginatree]

I don’t know when we all started headcanoning Bodhi as autistic but as a fellow girlie with autism I approve

[writinginatree]

Hehe, sorryyy! If it's any consolation, writing that line was just as painful as reading it 🥲❤️‍🩹

Can We Keep Her?

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sister!reader, Xaden Riorson & Bodhi Durran & Garrick Tavis

Summary: How a ten year old Xaden found a little girl abandoned in the woods and brought her home to be his sister.

Warnings: References to past child abuse/neglect, child abandonment, reader has selective mutism

Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 6: Family. (Posted a few days late because this ended up being more than twice as long as planned)

AO3

The forest where they found you was more than an hour on horseback from Aretia, which was why it wasn't very often that they went there to play, despite how much Xaden loved it. In hindsight, he thinks it must have been fate that he, Garrick, and Bodhi were there that day, in the right place at the right time to happen upon you.

The first time they saw you, they only caught a glimpse of you; a small figure curled up on a soft patch of moss one second, darting off into the trees the next. They simply shrugged it off, too focused on their game of catch to dwell on it. If he had thought about it, Xaden simply would have assumed you had come to the forest with your family for a picnic or to pick berries, wandered a little ways off to take a nap in the sun, and ran back to your parents when the boys' loud playing woke you. By the time they returned home, Xaden had as good as forgotten about it.

But a few days later, they saw you again, and this time, you didn't run. They quickly realized why — you'd gotten so tangled up in a raspberry bush that you probably weren't able to get free without help.

You squirmed as they tied their horses to a nearby tree and approached you, eyes wide with fear and following their every move. In your effort to get away, you only ensnared yourself further in the brambles, thorns tearing at your clothes and bare arms.

"Easy, kid," Garrick said as the three of them stopped a few feet away from you, speaking in the same tone one might use to calm a skittish horse. "We just want to help you."

You stopped struggling at the words, gaze fixed on Garrick. Still, that fear remained on your face, making Xaden wonder just how you had ended up in this position. Had someone been chasing you? A wild animal frightened you?

He could ask while they freed you, he decided, taking a step closer with his hands held up to show you his empty palms. Eyes meeting yours, he put all the friendliness he could in his gaze, tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Bodhi and Garrick followed, moving just as slowly.

Close enough to start disentangling you, Xaden thought he heard a faint whimper and froze, his hand inches away from the brambles around your arm. Glancing at your face, you were breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for something painful. Another whimper followed, just as quiet, but this time Xaden was sure he heard it.

Softly, he said, "We're not going to hurt you. If you hold still, I think we can get you free without the thorns scratching you much, okay?"

You showed no reaction, but at least you kept still.

Xaden figured that was close enough to permission to help you; after all, they couldn't just leave you like this. They hadn't seen anyone else around, either, no adult you might belong with, who might do a better job of calming you. The fact struck Xaden as strange, since you seemed awfully little to be roaming the woods all by yourself, but he ignored that for now, focusing instead on getting you out of that bush.

With the three of them working together, it didn't take as long as Xaden had feared. Soon he could pick you up under the arms, Bodhi and Garrick pulling away the last of the brambles wrapped around your ankle.

Though you were heavier than you looked, Xaden could feel every single rib beneath his hands. He didn't know much about younger kids — his friends and closer acquaintances were all around his own age, a year or two younger at most — but he doubted your bones were supposed to be protruding like that. No more than five or six years old at the very most by Xaden's unskilled estimate, you should have still had some of that baby fat that made every toddler he had ever seen appear soft and chubby.

Underfed; that was what you were.

Taking a couple steps backward to make sure you were a safe distance from the tangle of raspberries, Xaden carefully set you back on your feet.

You still hadn't spoken a single word, had shown no indication you'd even heard the stream of questions and chatter the boys had tried to distract you with while they freed you. At least you had opened your eyes again.

"What were you even doing out here all alone?" Xaden asked again.

Just like before, you didn't answer, only continued to watch them.

With those too-skinny legs and wide, fearful eyes, you reminded Xaden of a fawn ready to bolt any moment.

"Where are your parents? Should we help you look for them?" Garrick tried.

When the result remained the same, he frowned, stepping closer to Xaden to whisper, "Do you think she's deaf, maybe?"

Xaden shrugged. You looked like you were listening when they spoke, eyes darting between them. Still, he repeated his earlier question to you in sign language, just in case.

No reaction.

Garrick crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "Great, so she doesn't understand us. What are we supposed to do with her now?"

"You don't know if she understands us or not," Xaden argued. "Maybe she just can't answer. Or doesn't want to."

He thought you might simply be too scared to talk to them, but didn't see any point in saying so. It didn't matter why you weren't speaking. Even if you were capable of words, it was your own decision whether or not to use them.

"Anyway it's mean to talk about her like she's not there," Bodhi interrupted. Before they could react, he leaned down to your height and asked, "Do you understand us?"

You nodded, the movement so small Xaden almost missed it.

It didn't surprise him at all that his cousin was the one to finally elicit a reaction from you. He was quieter than Xaden and Garrick, and preferred to trail after the older boys rather than make friends of his own, but he got along with just about everyone, was liked by everyone.

Even as he threw a I told you so-glare at them over his shoulder, he still looked friendly.

"Okay, Mr. Child-Whisperer," Garrick said, rolling his eyes, "but that doesn't help us figure out what to do now."

Garrick was right about that. They still didn't know how you'd ended up stuck in those brambles, why you were alone in the woods, where your family was and whether you needed help to find your way back to them. Without getting answers out of you, they couldn't decide what to do, and it was late afternoon already, so they would have to head home soon.

Xaden sat down in a crouch before you. If he made himself smaller than you, maybe you would be less intimidated. With yes or no questions, they should be able to figure out what they could do for you.

And yes — though still hesitant, you answered at least some of the questions they asked with nods or shakes of your head. Yes, you were alone. No, you hadn't been running from anyone or anything when you got tangled in the raspberries. No, you did not want them to look for your parents. No, nobody was coming to pick you up.

When Bodhi asked if you wanted them to take you to the nearby village where they assumed you must have come from, you shook your head again, but didn't let on whether that guess was correct or not.

Xaden suggested one of them should ride there to ask if anyone was missing a little girl while the other two remained with you, but you shook your head, more frantically this time.

Once again, Xaden wondered what you were so frightened of. Someone from the village, maybe?

"Okay, okay," Xaden placated. "No going to the village. Got it."

Indeed, you calmed at that.

"But we'll have to go home soon, you see. We could take you home first, but we'd have to know where it is to do that."

No reply to that, not even a shrug.

Out of ideas, the boys shared a helpless look.

You weren't acting like you were lost — or at least not how Xaden thought a small child who was lost would act. Though you still seemed on guard, you had relaxed a little, as if getting used to their presence. As strange as the situation was, nothing about your behavior suggested you needed help. What Xaden had interpreted as fear might have well been simple shyness, and if you needed help, surely you would have given them a sign of it. Even if you were unable or unwilling to communicate what exactly was wrong, you would have surely shown signs of distress at their mention of having to leave — would have started crying, or grabbed for them.

Maybe there was a perfectly harmless explanation — maybe one or both of your parents were woodsmen, maybe they had a cottage nearby that the boys didn't know of, and the reason you hadn't wanted Xaden to go into the village was simply that it would have been unnecessary since you didn't belong there. If you were used to the woods, it might not be so strange for you to be left unsupervised here for so long; how would he know?

Xaden tried to make himself believe that story, but only half succeeded. You looked dirty and tired — much more so than being stuck in those raspberries could explain. Like you'd been wandering though the forest for days.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked. "If we leave you here?"

You nodded — not very convincingly, Xaden thought, but calling you a liar wouldn't change anything, so he kept his mouth shut. They had no choice but to go home and hope you really would be okay.

As they rode back to Aretia, Xaden's thoughts kept drifting back to you. He felt bad leaving you behind like they had, but what else could they have done? Kidnapped you? Stayed out until nightfall, making their own parents worry? They had lingered as long as they could. If they were late for supper, his dad or aunt might decide not to let them ride this far again anytime soon, and Xaden was determined to return the next day, to see if you would be there again and make sure you were alright. Fortunately it was the weekend, and Garrick was staying over at their place.

"Do you think the girl made it home?" Bodhi broke the heavy silence as they neared Riorson House.

"Hopefully," Xaden replied, glad he wasn't the only one who couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Do you think we should tell Mom or your dad? They could send someone to make sure she's okay. An adult, I mean."

Xaden considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "There's no point when we don't know if anything is actually wrong. We'll go back to check on the girl ourselves tomorrow."

Maybe it was selfish of him, but they were the ones who'd found you and earned a fraction your trust. If his father sent guards to look for you, they would only scare you. Likely as not, you would run and hide from them, as you had ran when the boys first saw you a few days ago. And if you really did live in the forest with your family, all the fuss would be for nothing.

"She's probably fine," Garrick said. "She didn't look like she minded when we left."

Xaden nodded. You had seemed content to remain in the woods.

He still didn't like it.

"I wish we knew her name," he changed the topic. "Then we could ask around if anyone knows her. And it's stupid having to call her the girl."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't exactly talkative."

"What if we call her Raspberry?" Bodhi suggested.

"We are not calling her raspberry."

"We have to call her something, though," his cousin insisted. "You just said it's stupid having to call her the girl."

"That doesn't mean we have to give her some ridiculous nickname. If we see her again tomorrow, we'll try if we can get her to tell us her actual name."

"If she can," Garrick added. "What do you think, is she mute?"

"I dunno. When we first got close to her, I'm pretty sure she whimpered."

Bodhi nodded. "And once or twice it looked like she wanted to say something, but then got too scared."

"Maybe she's got that thing you have, Bodhi." Xaden couldn't remember what it was called. "You know, where the words just won't come out sometimes."

It was something his cousin had struggled with a lot when he first started school, but thanks to therapy, it didn't seem to be as much of a problem anymore.

"Yeah, maybe."

The next day, they ate a rushed breakfast, saddled their horses and rode out to look for you, leaving the house even before their parents.

When they reached the tangle of raspberry bushes, you weren't there. Nor did they find you in the clearing where they'd first glimpsed you. Xaden didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. If you were safe at home it would be good, but what if you were still wandering around somewhere? The forest was big, and you could have been anywhere inside it.

Even when Garrick and Bodhi started to grumble, saying you clearly weren't there anymore, he insisted they keep looking. After an hour and a half, doubt crept in. Maybe his friends were right, and he was chasing them through the woods for nothing. Even if you had been lost, your family would have found you by now and you were probably at home, telling your friends about your adventure.

Xaden didn't want to admit he was wrong, though. Stubbornly ignoring the increasingly exasperated glances passing between Bodhi and Garrick, he led his horse deeper into the forest.

His persistence payed off.

There you were, sitting by a small stream that trickled through the trees. You still wore the clothes from the day before, dirty and ripped from the thorns in places. Your face was still dirty too, Xaden noted as you turned to face them. Surprise shone in your eyes to see them, but you remained where you sat, didn't tense in fear. They really had earned some of your trust, then.

"Hi Raspberry," Bodhi greeted you.

Xaden elbowed his cousin, but you only blinked at the nickname, lifting a hand. It wasn't quite a wave, but close enough.

You seemed livelier than the day before, more open.

Xaden hoped that meant they'd be able to get some answers from you today somehow. He didn't think you were old enough to know how to write, but had brought a notepad and pencil all the same. Maybe you could draw them an explanation, if you weren't comfortable communicating any other way.

The boys sat down in the grass near you so the four of you formed a loose circle. Close to you, but not close enough to invade your space or make you feel cornered.

"What's your name?" Xaden asked after telling you his own and those of his companions, which he'd realized this morning they'd completely forgotten to do yesterday.

He was prepared for more of that silence, but to his surprise, you actually answered — so softly he almost didn't catch it, but you did answer.

"So she can speak!" Garrick shouted excitedly.

You flinched at the volume, and Xaden glared at his best friend, hissing at him not to be an ass.

Garrick had the decency to wince. "Sorry."

"What were you doing?" Bodhi wanted to know from you, but only received a shrug in answer.

Nothing, then.

"Did you go home last night?" Xaden asked.

You blinked, head cocked to the side, almost as if to say you didn't have such a thing.

Xaden tried again, rewording the question. "Did you sleep out here?"

When you nodded, he swallowed hard. They shouldn't have left you, should have tried harder to figure out how to help you. Should have told their parents about you like Bodhi had suggested.

"Why?" Garrick asked. "Are you lost?"

Inexplicably, you shook your head.

Xaden, Bodhi, and Garrick shared a confused look. If you weren't lost, then why in Amari's name would you be sleeping in the woods?

When Garrick asked as much, you only shrugged.

"Did you run away from home?"

You shook your head.

It didn't make sense. In fairy-tales like the ones Xaden's mother had read him when he'd been younger, children might live alone in the woods, raised by wolves or watched over by tree ghosts, but in real life, things like that weren't possible. In real life, the woods would be creepy and lonely at night. In real life, there were no friendly ghosts to keep an abandoned child from starving. In real life, there was no motherly love that might drive a wolf or bear to adopt a tiny human that somehow wandered into their territory. In real life, mothers left without explaining why they didn't love you anymore.

Xaden stilled, thoughts scratching to a stop.

Abandoned children, mothers that left... Could that be what had happened? A child being cast into the woods by their parents was another thing he would have assumed only happened in stories, but maybe he was wrong about that. It would explain why you were alone out here, why you hadn't wanted them to help you look for your parents.

"But you slept out here all alone, right?" Bodhi's voice interrupted his thoughts.

This time, you nodded, and his cousin asked, "Weren't you scared?"

Only another shrug at that. It seemed you really didn't like to speak; since telling them your name, you hadn't said a single word.

"How long have you been out here?" Xaden asked, dreading the answer.

You lifted your hand, hesitated, then held up four fingers — like you weren't entirely sure of the answer.

"Four days?"

A verbal answer this time, barely above a whisper. "Think so."

Xaden let out a curse his father would have probably grounded him for if he heard him say it. Four days alone in this forest. Maybe more, since you weren't certain of your count. Now he understood why you looked so dirty and exhausted.

Bodhi and Garrick also seemed alarmed, and Xaden knew they were all thinking the same thing: They were not leaving this forest without you today. Somehow, they would help you.

"Isn't there anyone who misses you?" Xaden pushed. "Someone who might be searching for you?"

"Nuh-uh."

"You don't have anywhere to go back to?"

Yet another shake of your head.

They would have to take you to Aretia with them, then. His father would know what to do, what authorities to invoke. In the meantime, you could stay with them at Riorson House. Maybe— Xaden started at the idea. Maybe you could even stay with them forever. If he could convince his father to adopt you...

Gods, how amazing that would be! A little sibling, just like he always wanted!

But he could think about it later. For now, they should try to get some more answers from you. The more they knew, the better they would be able to explain everything to the adults — and it would be them who would have to explain it, Xaden was sure. You would probably go all silent again when they brought you into a new situation, with new people you didn't know.

Piece by piece, they managed to get the story out of you, using yes or no questions as much as they could and giving you as much time as you needed when something required a spoken explanation. When you finished, Xaden was shaking with quiet rage, his mood matching the dark clouds that had rolled in to hide the sun.

Earlier this week, your mother had led you from the house at sunset, offering no explanation as to why — not until you'd been deep in the woods, where she'd declared she was leaving you there since she was tired of your behavior. When Xaden asked what exactly she had meant by that, you only shrugged. Difficult children deserved to be taken into the woods to be devoured by monsters; that's what your mother had apparently told you time and time again, and four days ago, she made true on that threat. She just left you there — left you to die, Xaden realized, even if you didn't. Summer was drawing to an end, the nights slowly getting colder. Even if by some miracle you managed to find enough berries to sustain you, you wouldn't have lasted more than a couple more weeks at most. Soon, the cold autumn winds would start blowing, followed by frost in the nights. If you were still out here by then, you would be dead. And if Xaden was old enough to realize that, then surely your mother had known it, too.

Xaden had never loathed anyone as much as he loathed your mother upon hearing that story. How a parent could do such a thing, he didn't know. His own mother might have left him, too, but there was no comparing that to what yours had done. Xaden, at least, still had his dad, had a home. You had no one and nothing. But you would, Xaden vowed. From now on, you would have him. Despite the differences of your situations, he knew all too well what it was like to be abandoned, what it must have felt like to have your mother turn her back on you without any explanation of what you had done to deserve it. The both of you could heal from those emotional wounds together.

"Okay, so your mom sucks," Garrick summed up. Xaden barely refrained from snapping what an understatement that was. "What about your dad?"

You cocked your head to the side, looking confused.

"Don't have one?" Bodhi guessed.

You nodded.

"That sucks," Garrick said again.

Bodhi gave you a comforting smile. "Don't worry, we'll find you a new home. And a new family. A better one."

"We can be your family," Xaden offered.

You turned your gaze upon him, a tentative smile forming on your lips — the first one they'd seen from you.

Still, when they prepared to ride home, you hesitated.

Xaden understood. After everything you'd been through — he was certain your mother hadn't treated you well even before casting you out — it made sense that you wouldn't trust any adults, and you knew that in the end, what happened to you wouldn't be up to Xaden and his friends, but to their parents.

Xaden was sure they would gladly help you, certainly weren't going to send you back to a mother who clearly didn't care for you. If they tried, Xaden wouldn't let them. As far as he was concerned, she had stopped being your mother the moment she walked away from you. Having done so once, there was no reason she wouldn't do it again if you were returned to her.

You deserved better than that.

Again, he thought that the best solution would be for his own father to adopt you. There were plenty of vacant rooms in the family wing of Riorson House, so space certainly wouldn't be an issue. And he didn't think his dad or aunt would mind having another child in the house. His aunt, especially, would probably be happy to dote on you. Maybe she should be the one to adopt you... But Xaden wanted a sister, not another cousin. When he'd been younger, he'd frequently asked his parents — begged them, really — for a little sibling, but they had only shaken their heads and reminded him he had Bodhi. And sure, the both of them were close, but a little cousin that lived with him just wasn't the same as a little sister of his own, especially since Bodhi was barely a year younger.

He shook his head. First of all, he had to bring you home. Anything else would come afterwards.

Xaden didn't know what it was that finally convinced you — the onset of rain, the prospect of a soft bed and warm meal, his assurance that their parents would not mind your presence, that they were kind, or maybe his promise that he would keep you safe, would make sure you never had to see your mother again. It didn't matter why you finally agreed to come home with them, only that you did.

Getting you onto his horse was comparatively easy. Even though you eyed the animal with the wariness of someone who'd never sat a horse before, you remained calm as Xaden hefted you into the saddle and swung himself up after you.

All the way home, he prayed that his father would agree to take you in. After almost half a year since Xaden's mom had left, his dad and aunt had stopped treading on eggshells around him, but they still tried to make up for her absence in whatever ways they could. He wasn't above taking advantage of that, if he had to. Whatever it took to convince his father to adopt you, Xaden would do it. He had promised to look after you, and he intended to keep that promise.

Xaden's dad was still working when they arrived, but luckily not in the middle of any important meetings. They found him in his office, going through some paperwork with Bodhi's mom. Good — if they were both there, the boys wouldn't have to explain the situation twice.

You kept close to Xaden as he peered into the room after knocking, hiding behind him.

"Dad, do you have a moment? It's important."

When his father nodded, Xaden entered the room, Bodhi and Garrick following. Caught in the middle of the group, you had no choice but to do the same.

Putting a hand on your shoulder, Xaden stepped aside so his father and aunt could see you.

"We found her in the woods," he explained. "Her mother left her there because she didn't want her anymore."

For a moment, they just stared.

All four of you were soaked from the rain, which had only gotten heavier once you'd left the shelter of the trees. With your wet hair plastered to your head, your wide eyes appeared even bigger, bones jutting through the clothes sticking to your skin. At least the rain had washed away most of the dirt.

"Let's get you dried off, then you can tell us everything," his aunt said, leaving the room to return with a stack of towels.

When all of you were wrapped in warm towels and had sat down, Xaden's dad turned to you. "So, my boy says you were left in the forest?"

"I don't think she can speak right now, dad," Xaden said after a quick glance at you. "It took forever for her to feel comfortable enough with us to tell us, and I think adults scare her even more."

"I see." Xaden's dad nodded and motioned for him to go on.

"She's not sure how long she's been out there, but probably about four days. Her mom told her she deserved to be left there because she was 'being difficult'. When we found her she was stuck in a raspberry bush and really scared of us at first."

Bodhi added, "And, well, obviously she can't go back to her mom so we took her with us."

"That was the right thing to do," Bodhi's mom praised, running a hand over his wet curls.

Just then, your stomach growled. Shrinking in on yourself even more, you threw a frightened glance between Xaden's dad and aunt, like you were expecting to be scolded for the sound.

They noticed it too.

"Let's get you something to eat before we do anything else," his dad said to you with a reassuring smile.

Xaden's aunt added, "And all four of you need a warm shower and dry clothes."

While Bodhi, his mom, and Garrick led you away, Xaden lingered in his father's office.

"Can we keep her?" he asked, earning himself a disapproving look from his father.

"She's not a stray dog, Xaden," he reprimanded.

"I know, dad. I didn't mean it like that. But can she stay with us? It's not like she has anywhere else to go. Please!"

Xaden knew it had been stupid of him to get attached to the idea of you becoming his sister before his dad even knew you existed, but the moment the thought had popped into his head, it had sunk its teeth into him and refused to let go. It would be good for both of you. Just like him, you had been abandoned by your mother; that alone already meant you could understand each other in a way no one else did. And Xaden thought he would make a great older brother. He had plenty of practice from being Bodhi's big cousin, which wasn't quite the same, but similar enough. And you'd come to trust him a lot already — Bodhi and Garrick, too, sure, but you were the most comfortable with Xaden. He could be your protector, make sure you would never have to be scared of anything again.

"For tonight, yes. She will stay with us until we find her a permanent home. But whether we can be that permanent home..." Dad thoughtfully shook his head. "I don't know, Xaden. I'll have to think on it."

When he started to argue, his father cut him off.

"I know you would like to have a sister, and I understand that you feel responsible for her since you're the ones who found her, but you have to think about what she needs, too, not just what you want. She needs parents who have a lot time for her, who can help her heal from what she's been through."

"But—"

"I said I would think about it, Xaden. And I promise that if she can't stay with us—" He raised a hand to stop Xaden as he opened his mouth to argue again. "If, Xaden. I'm not saying no yet. But if I decide she can't live with us, I'll try to find a family here in Aretia for her, so you can visit her."

"New people scare her," Xaden muttered — the only argument he could think of.

"I'll take that into consideration. Now go put on some dry clothes."

Xaden understood a dismissal when he heard one, so he turned to go to his room.

Though he wasn't foolish enough to say it, he thought his father's reasoning was stupid. It was true that being the duke of Aretia meant he was often very busy, but he always managed to make a little time for Xaden. Whether that time was spend with him alone or shared with you would hardly make any difference. Even if it did, that didn't mean that parents who didn't work and had more time for you would automatically be better parents.

Xaden didn't bother with a shower, just dried off and put on fresh clothes. When he was done, he went to see where you had gone.

He found you in his cousin's room, where he was trying to find something you could wear, while his mom was getting you something to eat. Luckily, there were a few items that had recently gotten too small for Bodhi, which his mom hadn't yet gotten rid of. They would still be too big on you, but better than anything of Xaden's. Until your own clothes were washed, it would do.

Taking the clothes from Bodhi, Xaden led you back to his own room and into the bathing chamber, let water into the tub and laid out a fresh towel and the clothes for you.

"You, uh— You're old enough to bathe on your own, right?"

He scratched his head, glancing between you and the tub. He'd never really thought about its size, but next to your tiny form, it suddenly seemed awfully big. Big enough to make him fear you might disappear in its depths, if he let it run full.

Your shrug wasn't exactly reassuring.

"Didn't you have a bathtub with your mom?"

"Nh-nh. Just a shower."

No, not reassuring at all.

"Do you know how to swim?"

A futile question, since the bathtub wasn't big enough to swim in, even for you, but if you could swim, it would mean you were at least familiar with water and its dangers.

You shook your head.

"I'll only fill it halfway, then," Xaden decided. After all, he hadn't brought you home just for you to drown in his bathtub. Glancing at it again, he realized it was already a little more than halfway full, and quickly stopped the water. "And I'll leave the door open. If you need anything, just—"

Just yell for me, he'd meant to say, but of course, you might not be able to. Crap.

Looking around, he spotted a fleck of color on top of the bathroom cabinet. He stepped onto the lid of the toilet and reached for the dust-coated rubber duck. It had been years since he even thought of the thing, but if he remembered correctly— Squeak.

Perfect.

Hopping down, he blew the dust from the duck and offered it to you. "If you need me, just squeeze it, okay?"

You nodded, and Xaden nodded back, rather pleased with his own resourcefulness.

"Alright. Go ahead then, before the water gets cold. I'll be right outside."

While you bathed and Xaden sat on his bed listening for sounds of drowning, Bodhi and his mom came in with a bowl of soup for you. Outside, the rain had stopped for the moment, so Garrick had gone home before it could start pouring again.

"I'm going to prepare one of the rooms down the hall for her," Xaden's aunt said. "You'll make sure she eats when she's done in the bath, yes, Xaden?"

Xaden nodded. Of course he would.

Bodhi, who had just sat down beside him, jumped back to his feet to follow his mother. "I'll help you."

She nodded. "Thank you, dear."

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bathing chamber, water still dripping from your hair. As expected, the old shirt you'd gotten from Bodhi was too big on you, but Xaden thought it made a pretty good nightgown. And you did look ready to crawl into bed, even though it wasn't even dinner time yet. You must have not gotten much sleep these past days in the woods.

As you ate, Xaden asked, "Do you know sign language?"

When you only looked at him confused, Xaden explained, "There's different movements you make with your hands that mean the same things as words. See, like this." He repeated what he'd said in sign language — or tried, at least. He wasn't very good at it himself just yet, but determined to get better in case it would help you. "I could teach you. Maybe it'll be easier than talking with your mouth."

You nodded, eyes shining with excitement.

Xaden wondered if your mother had ever bothered to offer you alternative ways of communication. Considering what he knew about her so far, he doubted it. The thought angered him. Even Xaden's dad, who didn't even know you, made more of an effort to make you feel safe and understood than your own mother ever had.

Soon the soup was gone, and your eyelids started to droop.

"Do you want to take a nap?" Xaden asked.

You shrugged, but obediently lay down in Xaden's bed and let him tuck you in when he tried.

"Sleep," he said, getting comfortable beside you. "I'll watch over you."

"You won't leave me alone?"

The question came out tentatively, but Xaden's heart still surged with pride that you felt safe enough with him to ask it at all.

"Never," he promised. "I'll always take care of you, no matter what."

"Even when I'm being difficult?"

"Especially then," Xaden assured you.

He figured that the moments when you behaved in a way your mother had deemed difficult were the ones where you needed caring for the most. That's how it was for him, at least. In the weeks and months after his mom had left, he'd acted plenty difficult — sulking around and snapping at everyone who came near, even as he desperately craved their comforting words and hugs, wanted to be reassured they wouldn't abandon him too.

With a relieved smile, you closed your eyes and soon drifted off.

Outside Xaden's room, his dad and aunt had overhead the conversation, which swayed them toward a decision.

"It would be cruel to send her away when she feels so safe here already," Bodhi's mom was saying.

Xaden's dad nodded. "I'm just worried she'll need more time and affection than I can give."

"Who says you have to raise her alone? We'll take care of her together, just like of our boys. It might be good for them, too — having a girl around."

He looked through the half-open door again, shaking his head. "We're just kidding ourselves if we pretend it hasn't already been decided, aren't we?"

"Indeed."

A quiet tapping sound made Xaden look to the open door. His father stood in the doorway, smiling slightly, and gestured for Xaden to come to him. He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake you.

Once he had joined his father in the hall, door closed behind him, Dad said, "I've decided."

Xaden blinked in surprise. It had only been a few hours. Not sure if the fact that his father had made his decision much faster than expected, Xaden held his breath.

"It will take some time to get all the necessary papers, but once that's taken care of, you'll officially have a little sister."

Xaden threw himself at his father in a hug. "Thank you!"

"Not so loud," his dad chuckled, patting his back. "You'll wake her up."

The next morning, Xaden was awake earlier than you. 

You looked even more fragile in your sleep than you did awake, your little fingers curled around the edge of the pillowcase, face truly relaxed for the first time since Xaden had met you. He would do his best to ensure you would always feel this safe in the future. As your big brother, that would be his job, to keep you safe, and never ever let anybody hurt you, like your mother had, and Xaden was determined to take that responsibility very seriously.

Impatiently waiting to tell you the good news, he lay awake and watched your slumbering form. He knew better than to wake you up. The days alone in the woods had exhausted you, and you needed every minute of sleep you could get to recover. They'd even let you sleep through dinner last night, and when Xaden had climbed into bed beside you, you hadn't so much as stirred. At least you hadn't seemed to have any nightmares. Maybe that would come later — the following night, you would have to sleep in your own room, alone. Dad had allowed you to remain in Xaden's room the past night because he hadn't wanted to risk waking you, but he would not let this become a habit, Xaden knew.

Finally, you stirred. Xaden threw aside the illustrated book about weapons he'd grabbed from his bedside table after getting bored, and sat up.

"Guess what," he said by way of good morning.

"Huh?"

"My dad is adopting you!" He paused, suddenly realizing he hadn't really asked your opinion on the matter. "If you'd like that, I mean."

You slowly blinked up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. "I— I can stay? Here?"

Xaden nodded, cheeks straining with how wide he was smiling. Gods, he hadn't smiled like this since before his mother had left. "This can be your home, if you want. And I'll be your brother."

Slowly, a smile lit up your face.

"Would you like that?" Xaden asked. He saw the answer on your face, but wanted confirmation.

You nodded, putting your little hand into his. "Brother."

The whispered word was the most beautiful sound Xaden had ever heard.

"Sister," he replied, closing his fingers around your own to give a gentle squeeze.

[writinginatree]

Can We Keep Her?

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sister!reader, Xaden Riorson & Bodhi Durran & Garrick Tavis

Summary: How a ten year old Xaden found a little girl abandoned in the woods and brought her home to be his sister.

Warnings: References to past child abuse/neglect, child abandonment, reader has selective mutism

Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 6: Family. (Posted a few days late because this ended up being more than twice as long as planned)

AO3

The forest where they found you was more than an hour on horseback from Aretia, which was why it wasn't very often that they went there to play, despite how much Xaden loved it. In hindsight, he thinks it must have been fate that he, Garrick, and Bodhi were there that day, in the right place at the right time to happen upon you.

The first time they saw you, they only caught a glimpse of you; a small figure curled up on a soft patch of moss one second, darting off into the trees the next. They simply shrugged it off, too focused on their game of catch to dwell on it. If he had thought about it, Xaden simply would have assumed you had come to the forest with your family for a picnic or to pick berries, wandered a little ways off to take a nap in the sun, and ran back to your parents when the boys' loud playing woke you. By the time they returned home, Xaden had as good as forgotten about it.

But a few days later, they saw you again, and this time, you didn't run. They quickly realized why — you'd gotten so tangled up in a raspberry bush that you probably weren't able to get free without help.

You squirmed as they tied their horses to a nearby tree and approached you, eyes wide with fear and following their every move. In your effort to get away, you only ensnared yourself further in the brambles, thorns tearing at your clothes and bare arms.

"Easy, kid," Garrick said as the three of them stopped a few feet away from you, speaking in the same tone one might use to calm a skittish horse. "We just want to help you."

You stopped struggling at the words, gaze fixed on Garrick. Still, that fear remained on your face, making Xaden wonder just how you had ended up in this position. Had someone been chasing you? A wild animal frightened you?

He could ask while they freed you, he decided, taking a step closer with his hands held up to show you his empty palms. Eyes meeting yours, he put all the friendliness he could in his gaze, tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Bodhi and Garrick followed, moving just as slowly.

Close enough to start disentangling you, Xaden thought he heard a faint whimper and froze, his hand inches away from the brambles around your arm. Glancing at your face, you were breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for something painful. Another whimper followed, just as quiet, but this time Xaden was sure he heard it.

Softly, he said, "We're not going to hurt you. If you hold still, I think we can get you free without the thorns scratching you much, okay?"

You showed no reaction, but at least you kept still.

Xaden figured that was close enough to permission to help you; after all, they couldn't just leave you like this. They hadn't seen anyone else around, either, no adult you might belong with, who might do a better job of calming you. The fact struck Xaden as strange, since you seemed awfully little to be roaming the woods all by yourself, but he ignored that for now, focusing instead on getting you out of that bush.

With the three of them working together, it didn't take as long as Xaden had feared. Soon he could pick you up under the arms, Bodhi and Garrick pulling away the last of the brambles wrapped around your ankle.

Though you were heavier than you looked, Xaden could feel every single rib beneath his hands. He didn't know much about younger kids — his friends and closer acquaintances were all around his own age, a year or two younger at most — but he doubted your bones were supposed to be protruding like that. No more than five or six years old at the very most by Xaden's unskilled estimate, you should have still had some of that baby fat that made every toddler he had ever seen appear soft and chubby.

Underfed; that was what you were.

Taking a couple steps backward to make sure you were a safe distance from the tangle of raspberries, Xaden carefully set you back on your feet.

You still hadn't spoken a single word, had shown no indication you'd even heard the stream of questions and chatter the boys had tried to distract you with while they freed you. At least you had opened your eyes again.

"What were you even doing out here all alone?" Xaden asked again.

Just like before, you didn't answer, only continued to watch them.

With those too-skinny legs and wide, fearful eyes, you reminded Xaden of a fawn ready to bolt any moment.

"Where are your parents? Should we help you look for them?" Garrick tried.

When the result remained the same, he frowned, stepping closer to Xaden to whisper, "Do you think she's deaf, maybe?"

Xaden shrugged. You looked like you were listening when they spoke, eyes darting between them. Still, he repeated his earlier question to you in sign language, just in case.

No reaction.

Garrick crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "Great, so she doesn't understand us. What are we supposed to do with her now?"

"You don't know if she understands us or not," Xaden argued. "Maybe she just can't answer. Or doesn't want to."

He thought you might simply be too scared to talk to them, but didn't see any point in saying so. It didn't matter why you weren't speaking. Even if you were capable of words, it was your own decision whether or not to use them.

"Anyway it's mean to talk about her like she's not there," Bodhi interrupted. Before they could react, he leaned down to your height and asked, "Do you understand us?"

You nodded, the movement so small Xaden almost missed it.

It didn't surprise him at all that his cousin was the one to finally elicit a reaction from you. He was quieter than Xaden and Garrick, and preferred to trail after the older boys rather than make friends of his own, but he got along with just about everyone, was liked by everyone.

Even as he threw a I told you so-glare at them over his shoulder, he still looked friendly.

"Okay, Mr. Child-Whisperer," Garrick said, rolling his eyes, "but that doesn't help us figure out what to do now."

Garrick was right about that. They still didn't know how you'd ended up stuck in those brambles, why you were alone in the woods, where your family was and whether you needed help to find your way back to them. Without getting answers out of you, they couldn't decide what to do, and it was late afternoon already, so they would have to head home soon.

Xaden sat down in a crouch before you. If he made himself smaller than you, maybe you would be less intimidated. With yes or no questions, they should be able to figure out what they could do for you.

And yes — though still hesitant, you answered at least some of the questions they asked with nods or shakes of your head. Yes, you were alone. No, you hadn't been running from anyone or anything when you got tangled in the raspberries. No, you did not want them to look for your parents. No, nobody was coming to pick you up.

When Bodhi asked if you wanted them to take you to the nearby village where they assumed you must have come from, you shook your head again, but didn't let on whether that guess was correct or not.

Xaden suggested one of them should ride there to ask if anyone was missing a little girl while the other two remained with you, but you shook your head, more frantically this time.

Once again, Xaden wondered what you were so frightened of. Someone from the village, maybe?

"Okay, okay," Xaden placated. "No going to the village. Got it."

Indeed, you calmed at that.

"But we'll have to go home soon, you see. We could take you home first, but we'd have to know where it is to do that."

No reply to that, not even a shrug.

Out of ideas, the boys shared a helpless look.

You weren't acting like you were lost — or at least not how Xaden thought a small child who was lost would act. Though you still seemed on guard, you had relaxed a little, as if getting used to their presence. As strange as the situation was, nothing about your behavior suggested you needed help. What Xaden had interpreted as fear might have well been simple shyness, and if you needed help, surely you would have given them a sign of it. Even if you were unable or unwilling to communicate what exactly was wrong, you would have surely shown signs of distress at their mention of having to leave — would have started crying, or grabbed for them.

Maybe there was a perfectly harmless explanation — maybe one or both of your parents were woodsmen, maybe they had a cottage nearby that the boys didn't know of, and the reason you hadn't wanted Xaden to go into the village was simply that it would have been unnecessary since you didn't belong there. If you were used to the woods, it might not be so strange for you to be left unsupervised here for so long; how would he know?

Xaden tried to make himself believe that story, but only half succeeded. You looked dirty and tired — much more so than being stuck in those raspberries could explain. Like you'd been wandering though the forest for days.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked. "If we leave you here?"

You nodded — not very convincingly, Xaden thought, but calling you a liar wouldn't change anything, so he kept his mouth shut. They had no choice but to go home and hope you really would be okay.

As they rode back to Aretia, Xaden's thoughts kept drifting back to you. He felt bad leaving you behind like they had, but what else could they have done? Kidnapped you? Stayed out until nightfall, making their own parents worry? They had lingered as long as they could. If they were late for supper, his dad or aunt might decide not to let them ride this far again anytime soon, and Xaden was determined to return the next day, to see if you would be there again and make sure you were alright. Fortunately it was the weekend, and Garrick was staying over at their place.

"Do you think the girl made it home?" Bodhi broke the heavy silence as they neared Riorson House.

"Hopefully," Xaden replied, glad he wasn't the only one who couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Do you think we should tell Mom or your dad? They could send someone to make sure she's okay. An adult, I mean."

Xaden considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "There's no point when we don't know if anything is actually wrong. We'll go back to check on the girl ourselves tomorrow."

Maybe it was selfish of him, but they were the ones who'd found you and earned a fraction your trust. If his father sent guards to look for you, they would only scare you. Likely as not, you would run and hide from them, as you had ran when the boys first saw you a few days ago. And if you really did live in the forest with your family, all the fuss would be for nothing.

"She's probably fine," Garrick said. "She didn't look like she minded when we left."

Xaden nodded. You had seemed content to remain in the woods.

He still didn't like it.

"I wish we knew her name," he changed the topic. "Then we could ask around if anyone knows her. And it's stupid having to call her the girl."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't exactly talkative."

"What if we call her Raspberry?" Bodhi suggested.

"We are not calling her raspberry."

"We have to call her something, though," his cousin insisted. "You just said it's stupid having to call her the girl."

"That doesn't mean we have to give her some ridiculous nickname. If we see her again tomorrow, we'll try if we can get her to tell us her actual name."

"If she can," Garrick added. "What do you think, is she mute?"

"I dunno. When we first got close to her, I'm pretty sure she whimpered."

Bodhi nodded. "And once or twice it looked like she wanted to say something, but then got too scared."

"Maybe she's got that thing you have, Bodhi." Xaden couldn't remember what it was called. "You know, where the words just won't come out sometimes."

It was something his cousin had struggled with a lot when he first started school, but thanks to therapy, it didn't seem to be as much of a problem anymore.

"Yeah, maybe."

The next day, they ate a rushed breakfast, saddled their horses and rode out to look for you, leaving the house even before their parents.

When they reached the tangle of raspberry bushes, you weren't there. Nor did they find you in the clearing where they'd first glimpsed you. Xaden didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. If you were safe at home it would be good, but what if you were still wandering around somewhere? The forest was big, and you could have been anywhere inside it.

Even when Garrick and Bodhi started to grumble, saying you clearly weren't there anymore, he insisted they keep looking. After an hour and a half, doubt crept in. Maybe his friends were right, and he was chasing them through the woods for nothing. Even if you had been lost, your family would have found you by now and you were probably at home, telling your friends about your adventure.

Xaden didn't want to admit he was wrong, though. Stubbornly ignoring the increasingly exasperated glances passing between Bodhi and Garrick, he led his horse deeper into the forest.

His persistence payed off.

There you were, sitting by a small stream that trickled through the trees. You still wore the clothes from the day before, dirty and ripped from the thorns in places. Your face was still dirty too, Xaden noted as you turned to face them. Surprise shone in your eyes to see them, but you remained where you sat, didn't tense in fear. They really had earned some of your trust, then.

"Hi Raspberry," Bodhi greeted you.

Xaden elbowed his cousin, but you only blinked at the nickname, lifting a hand. It wasn't quite a wave, but close enough.

You seemed livelier than the day before, more open.

Xaden hoped that meant they'd be able to get some answers from you today somehow. He didn't think you were old enough to know how to write, but had brought a notepad and pencil all the same. Maybe you could draw them an explanation, if you weren't comfortable communicating any other way.

The boys sat down in the grass near you so the four of you formed a loose circle. Close to you, but not close enough to invade your space or make you feel cornered.

"What's your name?" Xaden asked after telling you his own and those of his companions, which he'd realized this morning they'd completely forgotten to do yesterday.

He was prepared for more of that silence, but to his surprise, you actually answered — so softly he almost didn't catch it, but you did answer.

"So she can speak!" Garrick shouted excitedly.

You flinched at the volume, and Xaden glared at his best friend, hissing at him not to be an ass.

Garrick had the decency to wince. "Sorry."

"What were you doing?" Bodhi wanted to know from you, but only received a shrug in answer.

Nothing, then.

"Did you go home last night?" Xaden asked.

You blinked, head cocked to the side, almost as if to say you didn't have such a thing.

Xaden tried again, rewording the question. "Did you sleep out here?"

When you nodded, he swallowed hard. They shouldn't have left you, should have tried harder to figure out how to help you. Should have told their parents about you like Bodhi had suggested.

"Why?" Garrick asked. "Are you lost?"

Inexplicably, you shook your head.

Xaden, Bodhi, and Garrick shared a confused look. If you weren't lost, then why in Amari's name would you be sleeping in the woods?

When Garrick asked as much, you only shrugged.

"Did you run away from home?"

You shook your head.

It didn't make sense. In fairy-tales like the ones Xaden's mother had read him when he'd been younger, children might live alone in the woods, raised by wolves or watched over by tree ghosts, but in real life, things like that weren't possible. In real life, the woods would be creepy and lonely at night. In real life, there were no friendly ghosts to keep an abandoned child from starving. In real life, there was no motherly love that might drive a wolf or bear to adopt a tiny human that somehow wandered into their territory. In real life, mothers left without explaining why they didn't love you anymore.

Xaden stilled, thoughts scratching to a stop.

Abandoned children, mothers that left... Could that be what had happened? A child being cast into the woods by their parents was another thing he would have assumed only happened in stories, but maybe he was wrong about that. It would explain why you were alone out here, why you hadn't wanted them to help you look for your parents.

"But you slept out here all alone, right?" Bodhi's voice interrupted his thoughts.

This time, you nodded, and his cousin asked, "Weren't you scared?"

Only another shrug at that. It seemed you really didn't like to speak; since telling them your name, you hadn't said a single word.

"How long have you been out here?" Xaden asked, dreading the answer.

You lifted your hand, hesitated, then held up four fingers — like you weren't entirely sure of the answer.

"Four days?"

A verbal answer this time, barely above a whisper. "Think so."

Xaden let out a curse his father would have probably grounded him for if he heard him say it. Four days alone in this forest. Maybe more, since you weren't certain of your count. Now he understood why you looked so dirty and exhausted.

Bodhi and Garrick also seemed alarmed, and Xaden knew they were all thinking the same thing: They were not leaving this forest without you today. Somehow, they would help you.

"Isn't there anyone who misses you?" Xaden pushed. "Someone who might be searching for you?"

"Nuh-uh."

"You don't have anywhere to go back to?"

Yet another shake of your head.

They would have to take you to Aretia with them, then. His father would know what to do, what authorities to invoke. In the meantime, you could stay with them at Riorson House. Maybe— Xaden started at the idea. Maybe you could even stay with them forever. If he could convince his father to adopt you...

Gods, how amazing that would be! A little sibling, just like he always wanted!

But he could think about it later. For now, they should try to get some more answers from you. The more they knew, the better they would be able to explain everything to the adults — and it would be them who would have to explain it, Xaden was sure. You would probably go all silent again when they brought you into a new situation, with new people you didn't know.

Piece by piece, they managed to get the story out of you, using yes or no questions as much as they could and giving you as much time as you needed when something required a spoken explanation. When you finished, Xaden was shaking with quiet rage, his mood matching the dark clouds that had rolled in to hide the sun.

Earlier this week, your mother had led you from the house at sunset, offering no explanation as to why — not until you'd been deep in the woods, where she'd declared she was leaving you there since she was tired of your behavior. When Xaden asked what exactly she had meant by that, you only shrugged. Difficult children deserved to be taken into the woods to be devoured by monsters; that's what your mother had apparently told you time and time again, and four days ago, she made true on that threat. She just left you there — left you to die, Xaden realized, even if you didn't. Summer was drawing to an end, the nights slowly getting colder. Even if by some miracle you managed to find enough berries to sustain you, you wouldn't have lasted more than a couple more weeks at most. Soon, the cold autumn winds would start blowing, followed by frost in the nights. If you were still out here by then, you would be dead. And if Xaden was old enough to realize that, then surely your mother had known it, too.

Xaden had never loathed anyone as much as he loathed your mother upon hearing that story. How a parent could do such a thing, he didn't know. His own mother might have left him, too, but there was no comparing that to what yours had done. Xaden, at least, still had his dad, had a home. You had no one and nothing. But you would, Xaden vowed. From now on, you would have him. Despite the differences of your situations, he knew all too well what it was like to be abandoned, what it must have felt like to have your mother turn her back on you without any explanation of what you had done to deserve it. The both of you could heal from those emotional wounds together.

"Okay, so your mom sucks," Garrick summed up. Xaden barely refrained from snapping what an understatement that was. "What about your dad?"

You cocked your head to the side, looking confused.

"Don't have one?" Bodhi guessed.

You nodded.

"That sucks," Garrick said again.

Bodhi gave you a comforting smile. "Don't worry, we'll find you a new home. And a new family. A better one."

"We can be your family," Xaden offered.

You turned your gaze upon him, a tentative smile forming on your lips — the first one they'd seen from you.

Still, when they prepared to ride home, you hesitated.

Xaden understood. After everything you'd been through — he was certain your mother hadn't treated you well even before casting you out — it made sense that you wouldn't trust any adults, and you knew that in the end, what happened to you wouldn't be up to Xaden and his friends, but to their parents.

Xaden was sure they would gladly help you, certainly weren't going to send you back to a mother who clearly didn't care for you. If they tried, Xaden wouldn't let them. As far as he was concerned, she had stopped being your mother the moment she walked away from you. Having done so once, there was no reason she wouldn't do it again if you were returned to her.

You deserved better than that.

Again, he thought that the best solution would be for his own father to adopt you. There were plenty of vacant rooms in the family wing of Riorson House, so space certainly wouldn't be an issue. And he didn't think his dad or aunt would mind having another child in the house. His aunt, especially, would probably be happy to dote on you. Maybe she should be the one to adopt you... But Xaden wanted a sister, not another cousin. When he'd been younger, he'd frequently asked his parents — begged them, really — for a little sibling, but they had only shaken their heads and reminded him he had Bodhi. And sure, the both of them were close, but a little cousin that lived with him just wasn't the same as a little sister of his own, especially since Bodhi was barely a year younger.

He shook his head. First of all, he had to bring you home. Anything else would come afterwards.

Xaden didn't know what it was that finally convinced you — the onset of rain, the prospect of a soft bed and warm meal, his assurance that their parents would not mind your presence, that they were kind, or maybe his promise that he would keep you safe, would make sure you never had to see your mother again. It didn't matter why you finally agreed to come home with them, only that you did.

Getting you onto his horse was comparatively easy. Even though you eyed the animal with the wariness of someone who'd never sat a horse before, you remained calm as Xaden hefted you into the saddle and swung himself up after you.

All the way home, he prayed that his father would agree to take you in. After almost half a year since Xaden's mom had left, his dad and aunt had stopped treading on eggshells around him, but they still tried to make up for her absence in whatever ways they could. He wasn't above taking advantage of that, if he had to. Whatever it took to convince his father to adopt you, Xaden would do it. He had promised to look after you, and he intended to keep that promise.

Xaden's dad was still working when they arrived, but luckily not in the middle of any important meetings. They found him in his office, going through some paperwork with Bodhi's mom. Good — if they were both there, the boys wouldn't have to explain the situation twice.

You kept close to Xaden as he peered into the room after knocking, hiding behind him.

"Dad, do you have a moment? It's important."

When his father nodded, Xaden entered the room, Bodhi and Garrick following. Caught in the middle of the group, you had no choice but to do the same.

Putting a hand on your shoulder, Xaden stepped aside so his father and aunt could see you.

"We found her in the woods," he explained. "Her mother left her there because she didn't want her anymore."

For a moment, they just stared.

All four of you were soaked from the rain, which had only gotten heavier once you'd left the shelter of the trees. With your wet hair plastered to your head, your wide eyes appeared even bigger, bones jutting through the clothes sticking to your skin. At least the rain had washed away most of the dirt.

"Let's get you dried off, then you can tell us everything," his aunt said, leaving the room to return with a stack of towels.

When all of you were wrapped in warm towels and had sat down, Xaden's dad turned to you. "So, my boy says you were left in the forest?"

"I don't think she can speak right now, dad," Xaden said after a quick glance at you. "It took forever for her to feel comfortable enough with us to tell us, and I think adults scare her even more."

"I see." Xaden's dad nodded and motioned for him to go on.

"She's not sure how long she's been out there, but probably about four days. Her mom told her she deserved to be left there because she was 'being difficult'. When we found her she was stuck in a raspberry bush and really scared of us at first."

Bodhi added, "And, well, obviously she can't go back to her mom so we took her with us."

"That was the right thing to do," Bodhi's mom praised, running a hand over his wet curls.

Just then, your stomach growled. Shrinking in on yourself even more, you threw a frightened glance between Xaden's dad and aunt, like you were expecting to be scolded for the sound.

They noticed it too.

"Let's get you something to eat before we do anything else," his dad said to you with a reassuring smile.

Xaden's aunt added, "And all four of you need a warm shower and dry clothes."

While Bodhi, his mom, and Garrick led you away, Xaden lingered in his father's office.

"Can we keep her?" he asked, earning himself a disapproving look from his father.

"She's not a stray dog, Xaden," he reprimanded.

"I know, dad. I didn't mean it like that. But can she stay with us? It's not like she has anywhere else to go. Please!"

Xaden knew it had been stupid of him to get attached to the idea of you becoming his sister before his dad even knew you existed, but the moment the thought had popped into his head, it had sunk its teeth into him and refused to let go. It would be good for both of you. Just like him, you had been abandoned by your mother; that alone already meant you could understand each other in a way no one else did. And Xaden thought he would make a great older brother. He had plenty of practice from being Bodhi's big cousin, which wasn't quite the same, but similar enough. And you'd come to trust him a lot already — Bodhi and Garrick, too, sure, but you were the most comfortable with Xaden. He could be your protector, make sure you would never have to be scared of anything again.

"For tonight, yes. She will stay with us until we find her a permanent home. But whether we can be that permanent home..." Dad thoughtfully shook his head. "I don't know, Xaden. I'll have to think on it."

When he started to argue, his father cut him off.

"I know you would like to have a sister, and I understand that you feel responsible for her since you're the ones who found her, but you have to think about what she needs, too, not just what you want. She needs parents who have a lot time for her, who can help her heal from what she's been through."

"But—"

"I said I would think about it, Xaden. And I promise that if she can't stay with us—" He raised a hand to stop Xaden as he opened his mouth to argue again. "If, Xaden. I'm not saying no yet. But if I decide she can't live with us, I'll try to find a family here in Aretia for her, so you can visit her."

"New people scare her," Xaden muttered — the only argument he could think of.

"I'll take that into consideration. Now go put on some dry clothes."

Xaden understood a dismissal when he heard one, so he turned to go to his room.

Though he wasn't foolish enough to say it, he thought his father's reasoning was stupid. It was true that being the duke of Aretia meant he was often very busy, but he always managed to make a little time for Xaden. Whether that time was spend with him alone or shared with you would hardly make any difference. Even if it did, that didn't mean that parents who didn't work and had more time for you would automatically be better parents.

Xaden didn't bother with a shower, just dried off and put on fresh clothes. When he was done, he went to see where you had gone.

He found you in his cousin's room, where he was trying to find something you could wear, while his mom was getting you something to eat. Luckily, there were a few items that had recently gotten too small for Bodhi, which his mom hadn't yet gotten rid of. They would still be too big on you, but better than anything of Xaden's. Until your own clothes were washed, it would do.

Taking the clothes from Bodhi, Xaden led you back to his own room and into the bathing chamber, let water into the tub and laid out a fresh towel and the clothes for you.

"You, uh— You're old enough to bathe on your own, right?"

He scratched his head, glancing between you and the tub. He'd never really thought about its size, but next to your tiny form, it suddenly seemed awfully big. Big enough to make him fear you might disappear in its depths, if he let it run full.

Your shrug wasn't exactly reassuring.

"Didn't you have a bathtub with your mom?"

"Nh-nh. Just a shower."

No, not reassuring at all.

"Do you know how to swim?"

A futile question, since the bathtub wasn't big enough to swim in, even for you, but if you could swim, it would mean you were at least familiar with water and its dangers.

You shook your head.

"I'll only fill it halfway, then," Xaden decided. After all, he hadn't brought you home just for you to drown in his bathtub. Glancing at it again, he realized it was already a little more than halfway full, and quickly stopped the water. "And I'll leave the door open. If you need anything, just—"

Just yell for me, he'd meant to say, but of course, you might not be able to. Crap.

Looking around, he spotted a fleck of color on top of the bathroom cabinet. He stepped onto the lid of the toilet and reached for the dust-coated rubber duck. It had been years since he even thought of the thing, but if he remembered correctly— Squeak.

Perfect.

Hopping down, he blew the dust from the duck and offered it to you. "If you need me, just squeeze it, okay?"

You nodded, and Xaden nodded back, rather pleased with his own resourcefulness.

"Alright. Go ahead then, before the water gets cold. I'll be right outside."

While you bathed and Xaden sat on his bed listening for sounds of drowning, Bodhi and his mom came in with a bowl of soup for you. Outside, the rain had stopped for the moment, so Garrick had gone home before it could start pouring again.

"I'm going to prepare one of the rooms down the hall for her," Xaden's aunt said. "You'll make sure she eats when she's done in the bath, yes, Xaden?"

Xaden nodded. Of course he would.

Bodhi, who had just sat down beside him, jumped back to his feet to follow his mother. "I'll help you."

She nodded. "Thank you, dear."

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bathing chamber, water still dripping from your hair. As expected, the old shirt you'd gotten from Bodhi was too big on you, but Xaden thought it made a pretty good nightgown. And you did look ready to crawl into bed, even though it wasn't even dinner time yet. You must have not gotten much sleep these past days in the woods.

As you ate, Xaden asked, "Do you know sign language?"

When you only looked at him confused, Xaden explained, "There's different movements you make with your hands that mean the same things as words. See, like this." He repeated what he'd said in sign language — or tried, at least. He wasn't very good at it himself just yet, but determined to get better in case it would help you. "I could teach you. Maybe it'll be easier than talking with your mouth."

You nodded, eyes shining with excitement.

Xaden wondered if your mother had ever bothered to offer you alternative ways of communication. Considering what he knew about her so far, he doubted it. The thought angered him. Even Xaden's dad, who didn't even know you, made more of an effort to make you feel safe and understood than your own mother ever had.

Soon the soup was gone, and your eyelids started to droop.

"Do you want to take a nap?" Xaden asked.

You shrugged, but obediently lay down in Xaden's bed and let him tuck you in when he tried.

"Sleep," he said, getting comfortable beside you. "I'll watch over you."

"You won't leave me alone?"

The question came out tentatively, but Xaden's heart still surged with pride that you felt safe enough with him to ask it at all.

"Never," he promised. "I'll always take care of you, no matter what."

"Even when I'm being difficult?"

"Especially then," Xaden assured you.

He figured that the moments when you behaved in a way your mother had deemed difficult were the ones where you needed caring for the most. That's how it was for him, at least. In the weeks and months after his mom had left, he'd acted plenty difficult — sulking around and snapping at everyone who came near, even as he desperately craved their comforting words and hugs, wanted to be reassured they wouldn't abandon him too.

With a relieved smile, you closed your eyes and soon drifted off.

Outside Xaden's room, his dad and aunt had overhead the conversation, which swayed them toward a decision.

"It would be cruel to send her away when she feels so safe here already," Bodhi's mom was saying.

Xaden's dad nodded. "I'm just worried she'll need more time and affection than I can give."

"Who says you have to raise her alone? We'll take care of her together, just like of our boys. It might be good for them, too — having a girl around."

He looked through the half-open door again, shaking his head. "We're just kidding ourselves if we pretend it hasn't already been decided, aren't we?"

"Indeed."

A quiet tapping sound made Xaden look to the open door. His father stood in the doorway, smiling slightly, and gestured for Xaden to come to him. He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake you.

Once he had joined his father in the hall, door closed behind him, Dad said, "I've decided."

Xaden blinked in surprise. It had only been a few hours. Not sure if the fact that his father had made his decision much faster than expected, Xaden held his breath.

"It will take some time to get all the necessary papers, but once that's taken care of, you'll officially have a little sister."

Xaden threw himself at his father in a hug. "Thank you!"

"Not so loud," his dad chuckled, patting his back. "You'll wake her up."

The next morning, Xaden was awake earlier than you. 

You looked even more fragile in your sleep than you did awake, your little fingers curled around the edge of the pillowcase, face truly relaxed for the first time since Xaden had met you. He would do his best to ensure you would always feel this safe in the future. As your big brother, that would be his job, to keep you safe, and never ever let anybody hurt you, like your mother had, and Xaden was determined to take that responsibility very seriously.

Impatiently waiting to tell you the good news, he lay awake and watched your slumbering form. He knew better than to wake you up. The days alone in the woods had exhausted you, and you needed every minute of sleep you could get to recover. They'd even let you sleep through dinner last night, and when Xaden had climbed into bed beside you, you hadn't so much as stirred. At least you hadn't seemed to have any nightmares. Maybe that would come later — the following night, you would have to sleep in your own room, alone. Dad had allowed you to remain in Xaden's room the past night because he hadn't wanted to risk waking you, but he would not let this become a habit, Xaden knew.

Finally, you stirred. Xaden threw aside the illustrated book about weapons he'd grabbed from his bedside table after getting bored, and sat up.

"Guess what," he said by way of good morning.

"Huh?"

"My dad is adopting you!" He paused, suddenly realizing he hadn't really asked your opinion on the matter. "If you'd like that, I mean."

You slowly blinked up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. "I— I can stay? Here?"

Xaden nodded, cheeks straining with how wide he was smiling. Gods, he hadn't smiled like this since before his mother had left. "This can be your home, if you want. And I'll be your brother."

Slowly, a smile lit up your face.

"Would you like that?" Xaden asked. He saw the answer on your face, but wanted confirmation.

You nodded, putting your little hand into his. "Brother."

The whispered word was the most beautiful sound Xaden had ever heard.

"Sister," he replied, closing his fingers around your own to give a gentle squeeze.

[writinginatree]

I only have 5 hp please be gentle with me

[writinginatree]

hope ur having a lovely day!!!!!!! <333 loving all these bodhi fics

- imogen anon

Haha yes, I kinda turned Tyrrendor Week into Bodhi Week 2.0, didn't I?😂 Glad you're enjoying it!! Day 6 is going to be more focused on Xaden, but Bodhi and Garrick are there too! Specifically it's the story of how child!Xaden got his dad to adopt sister!reader🥰 Probably going to be a day or two late tho, because I severely underestimated how long days 5 and 6 would turn out lol. Anyway, sorry for rambling and I hope you're having a great day too! <33

[writinginatree]

More Blood Than the Tears We've Shed

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, Xaden Riorson & sister!reader

Summary: After watching your father die and being separated from your brother Xaden, you don't know how to cope and try to get rid of the relic now marking your arm, as if that could erase everything it represents. Though Bodhi can't save you from falling into that bottomless pit of despair, he does his best to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending. Suicidal ideation, trauma, loss of a parent, grief, feeling hopeless and helpless, forcible separation of siblings, lots of crying, panic attacks, graphic descriptions of self-harm, blood, homesickness, Iron Flame spoilers.

Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 5: Marked. Title is lyrics from Alright by Hollywood Undead.

AO3

In the first rays of morning sun, you stare at the unadorned wall of your new quarters, and wish for death.

Though the bed looks comfortable enough, you'd elected to curl up on the worn hardwood floor instead, in a sort of alcove created by the head of the bed, a chest of drawers, and the wall. Indulging in the simple comfort of a mattress and soft blankets is unimaginable, when everything is so terribly wrong. The only shred of comfort you allow yourself is that of this niche you're hiding in; such tight spaces have always made you feel safe, though today, it does little to make you feel better. Far away from what remains of your family, safety is as foreign to you as this place where you've been taken.

Over and over, your dad's last moments replay before your inner eye, blurring together with everything that had led up to his death until it's all a jumbled mess churning through your mind.

How you'd learned there were real monsters out there. The uncertainty of knowing something big was happening, but being too young to be told any details. The fear when Dad told you Navarre was launching an attack on Aretia; Xaden's anger at being sent out of the city with you, doomed to babysit instead of fighting at your father's side like he wanted to. The horrible realization that the battle was lost, soldiers taking you all to Calldyr as captives. The endless questions you couldn't answer, about what exactly your father and his officers had been intending, who their allies were, what else they'd had planned. All those cuts on your brother's back with which he took responsibility for the rest of you. And, flashing through your thoughts more than everything else, that courtyard, Dad and the other adults lined up like criminals — traitors. General Melgren's monstrous black dragon. Fire. Pain racing up your arm, leaving that strange, shimmering mark on your skin.

It had hurt so badly you'd dropped that damn runestone, the one you'd been told to always carry with you because it would protect you, though no one had bothered to explain what exactly that protection would look like. No one had explained much of anything at all during those last chaotic weeks, too busy bringing about their own doom to bother with all your anxious questions. And now, there's nobody left to answer them.

When that pain had shot up your arm, right at the same moment the flames shot from that monsters maw to engulf your father, your first, nonsensical thought had been that you had somehow caught fire, too. The useless runestone had clattered to the floor, the sound lost beneath your cry of pain. Countless similar cries sounded all around you from the other children whose parents were being killed alongside your father.

You'd looked down at your arm, but there had been no burns on it — only those abhorrent swirls and slashes, reaching all the way from your wrist up your arm and to your shoulder. Every bit of skin you could see with the short-sleeved shirt you wore was covered in them. The matching mark branded into your brother's skin went all the way to his jaw. You'd been too shaken to ask if your own spread just as far.

In the commotion caused by the appearance of those strange marks, you had then forgotten all about the stone you'd dropped.

You suppose it doesn't matter. Though homesick and in the worst mental anguish you've ever experienced, you're not actively in danger. You don't think the stupid thing worked, anyway. What use are those runes on it if they can't protect you from having to watch your father die, from your home getting extinguished, from being taken away from your brother and cousin? However the stone had been meant to work, it had done you no good.

Maybe its purpose had been only to keep you alive and nothing more; in that case, it would have fulfilled its purpose.

But gods, you wish that wasn't the case. You wish you were dead, wish Navarrian leadership had simply turned you into ashes along with your father. At least then you wouldn't have to live with the memory of his death forever ingrained in your mind, wouldn't be cowering on the floor in a stranger's house.

The smell of smoke from the execution still clings to your hair and clothes. You don't want to wash it off; not when it's all that remains of your dad.

He didn't even get any last rites — they just executed him, and that was that. You weren't given any chance to burn his belongings, either. Aretia may be destroyed, but you don't think the flames got past the thick stone walls of Riorson House. You wonder if any surviving citizens will dare to enter the soot-stained fortress to offer your dad's things to Malek, so that his soul might find peace in the afterlife — if there is such a thing.

You're not sure if you want there to be, if you want your dad to be whole somewhere in Malek's realm, forced to watch his children mourn him. It brings you a certain comfort to imagine him watching over you, to believe that you'll be reunited when you die too, but even if he really is watching over you — he couldn't protect you from the consequences of his actions in life, so how could he possibly help you in death?

No, nobody can, or will, help you now. You're on your own, cut off from anyone who cares about you, left at the mercy of your father's enemies. You will never get to go home.

The worst part is that they separated you from Xaden. You don't know where he was taken, since you were sent away first. You don't even know where you are, don't know if any of the other kids the rebellion's leaders left behind are here with you, since you'd been too busy begging and pleading for permission to stay with your brother to pay attention to anyone else.

It makes no difference. Xaden certainly isn't here, the only person who might have been able to make you feel remotely safe in spite of everything. You doubt you'll be allowed to visit or receive visits from him, either.

Even in the fog of your despair, you understand why. They want you all isolated, maybe in part as punishment for the crimes your parents had committed, but mostly so you can't follow in their footsteps and conspire, so you can't plan revenge. A hysteric laugh interrupts your sobs at the thought. As if there is anything a bunch of kids could do against Navarre's military might.

Yesterday had proven just how utterly helpless you are. You'd known it all along, even before they dragged you away like a piece of luggage — a loud piece of luggage, thrashing and screaming at the top of your lungs, but a piece of luggage nonetheless.

All throughout your capture, you had kept your composure, even during the execution, but at the announcement that they would now split the hundred seven of you up to be fostered with various loyal nobles, you started to tremble. Your nails dug into your brother's hand with how tightly you clung to him, yet he didn't complain, didn't so much as grimace. Compared to the cuts on his back, that pain was probably nothing. And maybe he, too, had been scared to let go. Maybe he silently started praying at the same moment you did, praying that Navarre would not be so cruel as to take you away from him.

If the gods existed at all, they ignored you in that moment, as they had in the days and weeks before, when you'd begged them to let your father's cause succeed, to let him win the Battle of Aretia, to let him live.

By the time your name was called, you were already in tears.

Not even Xaden was able to calm you; realizing what was about to happen, he had whispered to you to be brave, that you had to stay calm and go where they told you to, and you had tried — you'd tried, but when the moment came that you were to say goodbye, you just couldn't. The fear and helpless rage drowned out any logical thoughts, until the only thing you knew was that after everything you had already endured, you could not bear to be separated from your brother on top of it all.

But you were helpless against all those adults — nobles and riders and infantry, all of them loyal to Navarre, every one of them filled with hatred for your father, and, by extension, you. There was nothing you could do when their patience snapped, and someone barked an order to get that fucking brat into the carriage before I slit her sorry throat!

Resistance was futile as a black-clad soldier gripped your hands so tightly you cried out in pain, squeezing until you were sure she would pulverize your bones. Still you clung to your brother, but the soldier forced your fingers open one by one, merciless and much too strong for you. You could only scream and cry as she wrenched your arms behind your back and hauled you away to the carriage waiting to take you only-Malek-knew where.

One last, tear-blurred look at Xaden was all you got as the door was slammed shut, his face so full of grief and guilt over not being able to spare you from this that you cried even harder. You cried so hard the world turned fuzzy from lack of oxygen, so hard you had no strength left in you to even attempt fighting the guards in the carriage, who pressed you into the hard wooden seat to stop you from throwing yourself at the carriage's door.

You suppose you should be glad you hadn't been killed for your attempted resistance, that Xaden hadn't been killed for it. Part of you wishes they had killed you, though. It would have been less cruel than to leave you here all alone, surrounded by strangers — enemies.

Not that you've seen much of anyone in wherever the hell you are so far. By the time you arrived, you'd had no fight left in you. You didn't know whether the journey had lasted days or mere hours, but the sun burned down on you with the intensity of afternoon as you'd stepped from the carriage. Tuning out the voices of the soldiers who brought you, of whoever this place belongs to, of their servants, you had allowed yourself to be led into the room that was to be yours without really looking at anyone or anything.

The room in question is plain but tidy, with a big window overlooking what seems to be a vegetable garden — not at all the dark cell you'd half expected.

It makes no difference. There might be no bars in front of the window, but you're a prisoner all the same. The only reason they didn't lock the door behind you is that they know you have nowhere to run.

The rest of the day had dragged on forever, no time seeming to pass at all as you sat in that sunny room and cried, and cried, and cried. Once, a woman appeared in the door, asking you to dinner. You'd hurled the pillow at her — the only throwable object in reach. She'd left without a word, a pitying look on her face, and nobody had come to bother you again after that.

It's the best you can hope for, you suppose — to be left alone. If whoever has been made your legal guardian hates your father enough, they could well decide to make you suffer for his actions.

But no one had come to gloat over your misery, or to beat or insult you, and finally, night had fallen. It had been a relief to know that horrible day was finally over, even though you had little hope that the next would be any better. Somehow, the darkness made all the grief and despair coursing through you slightly more bearable.

Still, you spent the whole night curled up on the floor in that little alcove, crying until your tears ran dry for a time, only to start again.

In the first morning light, your tears have momentarily subsided once again. Leaning against the wall at your back, you try to simply breathe and not think of anything.

It never works for long.

The skin under your eyes and nose is raw from all the crying, and your throat burns. You don't remember when you last drank any water. There's a pitcher on the table by the window, but you lack the energy to get up and pour yourself a glass of water.

What's the point, anyway? Any water you give your body will just end up turned into more tears.

Wiping at your puffy eyes, your gaze catches on that horrible mark creeping up your arm. Somehow, you'd managed to push it to the back of your mind in the dark, more focused on the loss of your father and the hopeless situation as a whole, but now—

A shudder runs through your body, lifting the hairs on your arms. You curl in on yourself, staring and staring and staring at that shimmering black pattern. Staring, until terror and revulsion drown out any other feeling. Your breaths grow ragged — panicked. Panic at that mark, not of ink or scar tissue or anything else you could explain, permanent and terrible. Wrong. That's the only word you have to describe it. It feels wrong — alien. A violation, etched into your skin without warning or consent.

You have no idea how it got there, what it is, exactly, whether it does anything other than brand you as a traitor's child. If it is perhaps a way for Navarre to monitor you, to track your location should you ever try to escape them. The soldiers had seemed just as surprised as you when those markings appeared, but that isn't saying much.

Even if they weren't the ones who caused them — though who else could it have been? — they will find ways to use them against you. Even in the case that the patterns are purely decorative, that doesn't make them harmless or useless. An identifier, that's what they will be; a brand to let everyone know you are not to be trusted. Word will spread, and soon everyone in the whole kingdom will know what those marks signify, that everyone who carries them watched at least one of their parents executed as a traitor.

Your nails bite into your skin, clawing at that brand until blood wells up. Tears drip on your arm. One lands on one of the scratches you made, turning a watery pink as it runs down your wrist and drips to the floor. The mark remains, mocking you with the knowledge that it can't be washed away.

Again, your nails drag across those shimmering black lines. Sobs catch in your throat as you fight for breath.

You don't want this; don't want to have this abhorrent thing on your arm, don't want to be apart from your family, don't want to live with the memory of your father burning to death.

You still don't know how far those lines reach, and suddenly, that unknowingness is unbearable. You rip at your shirt, arms shaking so bad you barely manage to get it over your head. But you get it off, baring your shoulders for inspection. No good. Even tucking in your chin as much as you can, the mark spreads farther than you can see. Your shoulder is just as covered in those horrible swirls and slashes as the rest of your arm.

You feel along the side of your neck, but there's no telling where it ends. Running a shaking hand over the lines on your arm, you feel nothing, no bumps or ridges to indicate where the mark is without seeing it. The skin is as smooth as ever, as though the mark is part of you, not a brand or scar, but a mere discoloration of skin.

You need to get rid of it — somehow. There has to be something you can do about it. Anything. If you can't scrub it away, can't scratch it off, then— then you'll just have to cut it away. Cut out every piece of skin stained with those lines, until only you remain.

You nod to yourself, calming a little as you resolve to do whatever it takes to remove that mark from your skin.

Two fingers slip into your boot to pull out the small pocket knife you keep there. Those fools never searched you for hidden weapons — though, really, this knife is so small it would hardly be considered a weapon. The blade is less than the length of your thumb, meant only for cutting twine or snacks during long days playing outside.

Your dad had given it to you for your tenth birthday. It feels like that was a whole lifetime ago. A different world, where there had been no rebellions and venin, no evil kings and conspiracies.

In yesterday's panic, you'd forgotten you even had the knife, which was probably for the better. The tiny thing would have done no good against those soldiers. Had you tried to put it to use against them, you would have only made them angry, would have achieved nothing but to have it taken from you.

You clench the knife in your fist, hesitating for a moment as you think of your dad, how horrified he would be if he knew what you're about to do. But he's dead, so he can't stop you. And you can't stand the sight of that mark for even a moment longer.

With trembling fingers, you unfold the blade.

A steadying breath, then you set the knife against your skin, gripping it close to the blade. Just a small cut to start with, right at the edge of the first black swirl on top of your wrist.

Blood trickles down your hand, warm and somehow comforting.

Now for the harder part. Angling the blade so it almost lies flat against your wrist, you slip the edge into the cut, trying to wedge it between your skin and the flesh beneath. With your thumb a little in front of the blade, providing leverage, you drag it forward.

Almost immediately, you have to pause to muffle a scream of pain into your upper arm.

When you look, you see that it's working — a tiny corner of black-stained skin is separated from the flesh beneath, lifted by your blade. You can do this. It's going to hurt like hell, but as long as you don't pass out, you can do it. You can get rid of that brand.

With renewed vigor, you grit your teeth against the pain and keep going.

Just like peeling an apple, you tell yourself. Only you've never been very good at that, usually bugging Xaden into doing it for you, and your skin is already slick with blood, making it harder to control the direction of the blade.

It's not like you want to take away all of your skin — just the parts of it covered by the mark. Once you get to your shoulder, you're going to have to find a mirror. You don't particularly care how the result looks, well aware that this will turn your skin into a patchwork of scar tissue. You don't give a fuck if you cut too deep and accidentally slit your own throat, either. As long as you just get that thing off your skin first, you won't mind bleeding out. You just need to see what you're doing so you actually get all of it.

Slowly, painfully, the blade moves forward.

You tug harder, and it glides farther than expected, severing the piece of skin you'd been working on and sinking into your thumb. You barely feel that cut, head swimming with a mix of nausea and elation over your small success.

Letting the thumbnail-sized scrap of skin drop to the floor, you squeeze your eyes shut and fight the urge to throw up.

You tell yourself you can do this, repeat the thought until you believe it. You can remove that mark. Nothing else matters, not the pain, not the disgust that constricts your throat. Even if you can control nothing else in your life anymore, you can control what your skin looks like.

You continue, but the progress is slow, the task much more tedious than you expected. Frequently, you have to pause, close to passing out or hurling up your guts.

It had seemed so easy in your imagination — painful, but quick, efficient. As the idea took shape, you'd seen the tainted skin peel away before your inner eye as easily as that of the carrots the cook at home used to peel for you to snack on. Maybe it's because you're using the wrong tools. If you'd taken the time to find the kitchen and steal a paring knife or vegetable peeler, this might have been easier, but you didn't think that far — hardly thought at all, driven only by the need to free yourself from the shimmering smears branded into your skin.

Regardless, you keep trying, removing piece by tiny piece of skin, your only indication of the passing time the brightening sunlight that announces the start of another hot summer day.

Someone slams to their knees before you, causing you to flinch so badly the knife slips, leaving a long gash diagonally along the side of your wrist. You barely feel it, frozen in place as your eyes lock with those of the person in front of you and your heart starts to race.

Can it be? Can he really be here?

"Bodhi?"

It's the first word you've spoken since you'd been taken from Xaden, and comes out accordingly hoarse.

Gods, you hope you're not just imagining him. If the pain of what you're trying to do has driven you mad and you're hallucinating—

But no, if it were a hallucination, surely you would be seeing your father. This must be real.

But how? How can Bodhi be here? He had already been led away when it was your turn to be carted off to gods-know-where. Wouldn't they have put you in the same carriage if you were headed for the same place? Or had he been in that carriage with you? In your despair, you had payed your surroundings no heed, and somehow you doubt the soldiers would have allowed him to comfort you. He could have well been sitting in the opposite corner, crying too quietly for you to hear over your own gasping sobs.

Bodhi doesn't seem inclined to answer, his horrified gaze snagging on the blood that drips from your arm and the knife in your other hand. The leg of your pants is soaked with blood, droplets of it scattered on the floor around you like tiny red flowers.

Breaths quickening with rising panic, Bodhi snatches your shirt from the floor and ties it around your arm to staunch the bleeding. Then both his hands close around your own, not crushing or trying to pry your fingers from the knife when you don't let go, but simply holding. Keeping that tiny, bloodstained blade angled away from you.

You let him, mumbling, "I thought they took you somewhere else."

You didn't think you had any tears left in you, but as it sinks in that you aren't as alone as you'd thought, a fresh wave of them rises to your eyes.

"No. I'm here." His eyes are also swimming with tears, so full of love and worry it cracks your heart. "I'm with you, honey. They just wouldn't let me see you any sooner. Said we should adjust to the new environment separately, or something like that. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you didn't know we're here together."

"Not your fault," you sniffle. "I was—"

Shame floods you as the rest of the sentence forms in your mind: —too focused on wanting to stay with Xaden to pay any attention to you. Bodhi loves you just as much as your brother does, is just as fiercely protective of you, always cares about what you have to say and never makes you feel left out for being younger, and yet, you hadn't spared a single thought to where he might have been taken.

"Too freaked out to note who went where?" Bodhi offers gently.

You nod, since it's true enough and sounds better than what you might have said.

"Is that why you—" He nods toward your arm, unable to find the right words to describe what you did. "Because you thought there was nobody here who cares?"

"Nh-nh."

Bodhi looks like he wants to ask more, find out what had been your reason, but seems to decide it can wait.

Taking a deep breath to gather himself, he shakes his head. "Okay. We can talk about it later. First we need to patch you up."

You frown. You aren't finished with removing the mark from your arm. Not even close to it. What you managed to cut away is only a tiny fraction of the whole thing. But Bodhi isn't going to let you continue, you know that. You're not sure you want to continue — not with him watching.

"Can I leave you alone while I go look for first-aid supplies?"

Apparently, your answering nod isn't very convincing, because Bodhi glances at the knife in your hand, still caught between his own. "I'm gonna need you to give me that."

"No."

Dad gave you that knife; it's the only thing you have left from him here. You're not giving it to anyone, not even your cousin.

"Please, baby. It's for your own good," Bodhi pleads. "I promise you'll get it back when I can be sure you won't use it to hurt yourself again."

So never, you think. Even if Bodhi can somehow make you come to terms with having that mark on your arm, the temptation to continue cutting it out will always remain.

But what choice do you have? You can't sit like this forever, and he's right about your wounds needing to be cleaned and bandaged. You don't want to die of an infection; not if Bodhi would have to watch. And even if you don't relent, he could easily take the knife from you by force if he thought it necessary.

Reluctantly, you open your hand, and let him take the knife.

He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe the blood from the blade, probably knowing you'll never forgive him if he lets it rust, and pockets it. "You stay right here until I'm back, okay?"

You nod, too exhausted to tell him you couldn't get up if you wanted to.

When Bodhi returns some minutes later, he has a bowl of water in one hand and a bundled up towel in the other. As he sets the latter down on the bed, you see that it contains multiple rolls of gauze bandages, as well as a small bottle of what you assume to be some sort of antiseptic and a few washcloths.

"Could you come out of that corner?"

You would rather not, but there isn't enough space down here for both of you. He can reach you kneeling outside the alcove, but it'll be much easier to treat your wounds if you come out. Avoiding straining your injured arm, you rise on your knees and squeeze through the gap between bed and chest of drawers, slumping back to the floor with your back against the side of the bed.

Bodhi sits down in front of you, setting the bowl of water at his side. As he dips a washcloth into it, you loosen the bloodsoaked shirt still wrapped around your arm.

Bodhi carefully wipes away the blood smeared all over your arm. At the closer look this allows him at the wounds, his face turns so pallid you think he's going to faint. Thankfully, he doesn't, though the effort it takes him to keep his composure is obvious.

His hand shakes as he dips the used rag into the water, turning it red.

"What exactly were you trying to do?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper and thick with unshed tears.

Maybe you should lie — maybe he only asked because he hoped you would lie. You can't, though. There isn't a single excuse you can think of, no matter how flimsy.

Your silence seems to be answer enough, because the sorrow in his eyes doubles. The wounds make it pretty obvious, you suppose — the tiny bits of skin hanging half cut off, the raw flesh bared in the places you'd already succeed, and above all, the bloody shreds of skin on the floor where he found you, those black markings on them gleaming faintly in the morning sun.

"Why? Why would you do something like that to yourself?"

"That— that mark. I just— I can't stand it. I look at it and it, it's just wrong."

You can't explain it very well, but surely he'll understand, at least to some degree. Maybe he can't relate to the urge to claw your skin off that the mere sight of that brand ignites in you, but he, too, must feel tainted by it.

He nods slowly, but the devastation in his eyes only grows.

"Skinning yourself isn't a solution," he says softly.

"It's the only way to get rid of it."

"But is getting rid of it worth all that pain? Would it really be better to be covered in scars instead of that mark?" At your silence, he adds, "We all have it. Maybe we can learn to think of it as something that connects us, instead of something horrible."

"Everyone who sees it will know I got it because my dad led a rebellion. It might as well be spelling out Traitor."

Bodhi nods, running a gentle hand over your hair. "Yes. You can't control what other people will think. But you can control how you think about it."

You shrug, not sure you'll ever feel in control of anything ever again, but unwilling to argue the matter right now.

The bottle of antiseptic Bodhi brought looks like it has been gathering dust in the back of a medicine cabinet for at least a decade, and he grimaces as he opens it. "Fuck, I really hope this stuff is still good. It's all I could find without asking someone."

You appreciate that he didn't tell anyone what you did, didn't ask them to get a healer for you. He must have been tempted, if the worry in his eyes in any indication. But it seems he understands that having to interact with strangers in this state would only wreck you further. And who knows what might become of you if they decide you're a danger to yourself — they might lock you in isolation, put you into one of those jackets with the sleeves tied behind the back. If it ever came to that, you really would try to kill yourself.

"I'll survive it," you mutter, holding out your arm in silent request to get on with it.

Once all the wounds are thoroughly disinfected, Bodhi bandages first your thumb and then your arm, wrapping the latter all the way to the elbow. You only managed to skin a fraction of your arm near the wrist, all the patches where you removed the stained skin combined amounting to less than the size of your palm, but the scratches you made before taking the blade to your skin are scattered all over your whole arm. Maybe it's also so you won't have to see the mark, won't be tempted to continue what you started. The t-shirt Bodhi dressed you in — taken from his own pack of what few belongings he'd been able to take when leaving Aretia — is so big on you the sleeves reach to your elbows, hiding the rest of the mark not covered by bandages.

Bodhi presses a kiss on top of the bandage for good measure, then rises to get you a glass of water.

"Do you think you could eat breakfast for me?" he asks after you drank it.

You shake your head. The mere thought of food makes you nauseous, and leaving the room to go eat would probably mean encountering the people you are to live with. You won't risk that, not now that you've finally calmed down thanks to Bodhi's presence.

He looks like he already expected that answer. "Okay. How about a nap, then? I'm guessing you didn't get any sleep last night."

Since he's right about that, and you're exhausted from all the crying and blood loss, you nod. Last night, the thought of going to sleep hadn't even crossed your mind, but in bright daylight and with Bodhi by your side, you might manage a few hours.

He looks like he didn't get much sleep, either, and you feel a pang of guilt for causing him additional distress. All of this is just as horrible for him as for you, and yet he is keeping his shit together to look after you.

Bodhi simply shoves the leftover first-aid supplies aside, leaving the mess to clean up later, and pulls you to your feet by your uninjured arm so you can sit on the bed. After removing your shoes as well as his own, he lies down in the middle of the bed and opens his arms for you to snuggle into. The room is warm enough that you don't need any blankets, especially when holding each other like this.

"Promise me you won't hurt yourself again?" he mumbles into your hair.

"I— I'm not sure that's a promise I would be able to keep," you admit.

"Then promise me you'll tell me when you feel like hurting yourself. When you start thinking about finishing what you started today. No matter if it's day or night, or what I'm doing, I want you to come tell me."

"Okay. I promise."

Silence follows.

You close your eyes and try to sleep, but it's hard when you can't forget that you're far from home, why you're far from home. You try to shut out all the little reminders of it — the too-soft mattress beneath you, the way the warm sunlight hits your skin at an angle it never came from in your room back home, the sounds of chickens somewhere outside.

"I want to go home," you whisper.

Home — a place that no longer exists, at least not in the way it used to be. The fortress itself may have withstood the fire, but the rest of Aretia... Gone. Turned to ashes just like your father. Ruins and charred earth, that's all you would find if you could return there.

Bodhi's arms tighten around you as the first tear drips onto his neck. "I know. Me too."

"I want Dad. And Xaden. And— and I want everything to go back to normal!"

"I know," he repeats softly. "And you're allowed to feel that way. But you can't let it destroy you. We have to go on, even if it hurts, because otherwise, Xaden will have taken all those scars on his back for nothing."

"How?" you demand. "How do we go on?"

"I don't know. But we'll be alright. Somehow." You can't tell if it's you he's trying to convince or himself. "I know all of this feels like the world just ended, but it didn't. We're still here. Xaden, too, and Garrick and all the others, even if we're not allowed to see them. Someday, we'll all be back together. And until then, we've got each other. I know I'm not Xaden, but I'll take care of you. I promise."

(I'm not entirely sure I like the way I ended this, but I'm tired and if I keep staring at this the chances of getting tomorrow's fic done in time are zero, so here it goes anyway.)

[writinginatree]

You're My Home

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/female!healer!reader

Summary: Bodhi's home becomes your home.

Warnings: Iron Flame spoilers, reader is estranged from her family.

Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 2: Home.

AO3

Cuir's landing in the valley above Aretia is graceful, but even so, the impact might have been enough to send you tumbling from his back if it weren't for Bodhi's arms around you.

The dragon has barely tucked in his wings when your boyfriend is already on his feet, moving as surefootedly as if he were on solid ground. You gratefully accept the hand he offers to help you rise, your body stiff from the cold wind and having sat in the same position for so long.

Bodhi leads you the few steps to Cuir's shoulder, keeping a tight hold on you to prevent you from slipping on the unfamiliar terrain of the dragon's scales, made even more perilous by the fading light. There, he gathers you into his arms and hops to the ground with the ease of years-long practice. Setting you gently on your feet, he helps you adjust your heavy rucksack, which you'd worn in front of you during the flight. Once it sits properly on your back, Bodhi smoothes down your windblown hair, and gives a satisfied nod.

"There," he mumbles.

You kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

You're very glad he didn't let you try to dismount yourself — landing on your feet from that height isn't something your training in the Healer Quadrant included, though with your pack full of medical supplies, you at least would have been well-equipped to deal with any resulting injuries.

Bodhi smiles and gives you an actual kiss in return.

After bowing your head to Cuir in silent thanks for making the exception of carrying you, you take in the valley you landed in. The space is rapidly filling with dragons of every color as the rest of the riot descends around you, a nearby tree falling victim to some dragon's slashing tail. Golden eyes gleam everywhere in the falling dusk, sharp teeth and claws catching the last rays of sunlight.

You take a step closer to Bodhi, all too aware of how your light-blue uniform must stand out to all those predators, even with Bodhi's flight jacket over your tunic. You may all be on the same side, but that's no guarantee none of the beasts won't make a meal of you if it decides you're standing too close or looked at it wrong. The only one of them you fully trust not to kill you is Cuir, since he tolerated your presence on his back all the way here from Basgiath without showing any signs of antipathy toward you.

If someone had told you two days ago that you would ever stand amidst so many dragons, let alone ride on one, you would have examined them for a concussion or referred them to a superior specializing in mental illnesses. Even now, it feels like a dream, though the pounding of your heart and the numbness the cold wind has caused in your hands and face prove the opposite.

Though the riot had stayed in the cover of the clouds as much as possible, the glimpses you got of the land far beneath were mind-blowing. Not just because of how far you were from the ground, but also because of how much of the ground there was — more than you could have ever imagined. Of course you'd known how big Navarre is in theory, had seen maps of the Continent, but to actually see all those forests, mountains, and grassy plains passing underneath you gave you a whole new level of understanding of it.

Having spent your whole life in Chantara, you'd never seen more of the world than what lay within half a day's walk of the small village. Never before did you have reason or opportunity to venture farther — your family has lived in Chantara for generations, running one of the small stores supplying the war college. Far from adventurous, your parents never saw a reason to travel anywhere with you. Neither of them has ever left the village, and if it were up to them, you would have stayed there for the rest of your life, too, just like they had, and your grandparents before them. As their only child, you had been supposed to someday take over the store — an expectation you'd been aware of since you were a child, but that was never actually voiced, as if it were a given and didn't need to be talked about.

Naturally, your parents disapproved when you decided to instead join Basgiath to become a healer. Not just that it threw all their precious plans for the future into upheaval; despite the fact that almost all their customers came from the war college, your family wanted nothing to do with the actual war. They loved their safe little village, and wanted to know nothing of the big, dangerous world beyond it. Joining the military, even as a healer, was far too dangerous, they said. After graduation, you would still be stationed on the front, just like the soldiers; would be killed like them, too, if any of those nasty gryphon riders ever breached the border. Little did your family know that much worse things lurked out there.

You had listened to their fear mongering, pretended to rethink your decision, but when Conscription Day had come around, you were out of the door at sunrise.

Living at Basgiath was strange at first, despite the close proximity to your home — maybe because of it, because you weren't far from your family, and yet didn't get to see them during that first year. But you'd quickly made friends — a certain marked rider among them — and gotten used to military life. When your second year came around and with it visits to Chantara, you were no longer the girl who had left the village a year before.

Your parents felt it, too, and though they welcomed you whenever you dropped by, awkward tension hung in the air every time. When they learned you were dating a marked one, they grew even more distant, despite having never even met Bodhi, and soon, you stopped visiting altogether.

You haven't seen your parents since the past winter, haven't even written to them; why bother, when they never reached out to you, either?

You wonder what they would think if they could see you now, all the way in Tyrrendor, outside the Vale's protective wards. Wonder if anyone told them you deserted, what kind of cover-up story leadership has invented and whether your family will believe it. Are they calling you a traitor right now, cursing you for falling in with Bodhi and his people? Or do they know you well enough to know you wouldn't join a rebellion without good reason? Do they wish you ill, or pray only that you are safe somewhere?

With a sigh, you shake those thoughts. It's useless to dwell on things you cannot control. You're right where you want to be — by Bodhi's side. Anything else is secondary.

You look on as he talks to his executive officer, the two of them making sure the cadets in their section all landed safely.

The flight was long — all of yesterday night, plus the whole day today — with only one brief stop to water the dragons, and as exhilarating as it was, you're glad to be back on solid ground now. Your whole body aches from sitting on Cuir's back for so long, trying your best to hold on so Bodhi wouldn't have to put as much effort into holding you.

Looking around at the riders nearby, quite a few of them seem a little stiff, too. First-years, mainly, who are not yet used to such long flights, but even some of the older cadets are wincing as they stretch.

Gods, your butt hurts. You'll never again complain about having to be on your feet all day as a healer — sitting for so long, especially on a moving creature, is definitely worse.

When Bodhi's section is complete, you all make for the open side of the valley that overlooks the settlement below. A steep path leads downward, and you're very glad Bodhi took the time to find you a pair of rider boots before your departure. In the comfortable flats you usually wear, you would have been slipping and sliding all the way down.

Bodhi smiles at you, gesturing at the city which lies beyond the trail. "Welcome to Aretia."

The sun has as good as disappeared behind the horizon, but there's still just enough light to make out the town and it's fortress. That's Riorson House, you realize — Bodhi's childhood home, and the destination of this journey.

"It's beautiful."

"The town used to be much bigger," he says with a sad smile. "A real city. But it's still amazing how much has been rebuilt since they burnt it all down."

"To me it still seems big" you say, hoping it doesn't sound dismissive. While you can't relate to the losses Bodhi went through during the rebellion, the razing of a whole city horrifies and enrages you too. It's just that compared to your own small village — the only place you ever knew — the town seems big enough that you never ever want to walk its streets without a map or the company of someone who knows their way around.

Bodhi's grin widens, that shadow of sorrow leaving his eyes. "Yeah, I guess it would when you've never seen a real city," he teases.

"I'm not sure I ever want to see a real city," you admit as the two of you start down the path. "I'll probably get hopelessly lost even here."

"I'll make sure not to let you go anywhere alone, then. Though I think you would manage to find your way back to Riorson House if you did get lost."

"Probably."

Carved into the mountainside and taller than the other buildings you can see, the fortress is indeed hard to miss.

The rest of the walk passes mostly in silence, all of you weary and wary — you saw no signs of the forces remaining loyal to Navarre on the flight here, but that doesn't mean they won't find you.

At the fortress, it's pure chaos, despite the efforts of the marked ones to retain some semblance of order. Clearly, Aretia was not prepared for so many people. You can't really blame them for being a little bewildered, considering they didn't get so much as a warning before a hundred riders plus three scribes and a healer showed up on their doorstep.

Bodhi takes you to his room before anyone can even think about confining you somewhere like they did with the scribes the second they saw them. Telling you to make yourself at home, he points out the bathing chamber attached to his room and pecks your lips, before returning downstairs to fullfil his section leader duty and see that the other cadets are taken care of.

Though you try to wait up, you're fast asleep mere moments after settling into Bodhi's bed, hair still damp from your bath.

A few days later, the excitement has died down, and a routine has been established.

Aretia's healers are glad to have an extra pair of helping hands, seeing as the secrecy of the town's existence means they're severely understaffed. You may only be a cadet, but as a third-year, you have learned all the essentials already, only lacking hands-on experience and more specialized knowledge, which your new superiors are happy to pass on to you.

Not that they're entrusting you with any particularly difficult tasks just yet — you get to treat smaller injuries on your own, and when one of the older healers has a free minute they question you on theoretical knowledge, filling in any gaps they find, but for the most part, you clean surgery tools, collect herbs, or mix salves and tinctures. A lot of it is first-year work, but since you're the only healer cadet here, you suppose it makes sense it's you being handed those tasks. You don't mind. In fact, you quite enjoy being sent out to collect any medicinal plants you can find before the fast-approaching winter destroys them; you've always liked being outdoors.

The best part of living in Aretia, however, is waking up next to Bodhi every morning, and how much more time you can spend with him compared to Basgiath.

No more sneaking him into the Healer Quadrant for a few stolen kisses, no more longing to see him but being unable to because not even healers are allowed to enter the Riders Quadrant. Now you get to see him whenever you want, get to sit with him at mealtimes and have him drop by to say hi between classes, can even creep into the gym to watch his sparring sessions if you want.

You've never been so far from the place you've always lived in, and yet you've never felt so at home. Like this is where you belong, the place you've been longing for your whole life without even knowing it.

Domestic bliss, that's what this is.

While Bodhi is in the shower, you sit by the window, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders against the autumn chill the glass gives off, a textbook on Tyrrendor's native plants and their medicinal uses open on your lap. You stopped reading minutes ago, distracted by the view you have over the surrounding area from here.

You have yet to venture into the town itself, though you've already become well-acquainted with the surrounding countryside, thanks to the hours spent gathering herbs with one of the oldest healers here — a gray-haired woman with hands so gnarled she can no longer hold a blade to perform surgeries, but whose eyes and mind remain sharp, a seemingly endless well of knowledge. In less than a week, she has already taught you more than some of your professors at Basgiath did in all your time there.

You're so deep in thought you don't hear Bodhi exiting the bathing chamber, only noticing him when he comes to stand beside you, softly asking if you're homesick.

You suppose you must have looked a little lost, gazing out into the landscape like that. It's a beautiful view, one you'll never get enough off, the only sight you enjoy even more that of the man behind you. Your old home is the farthest thing from your mind when you look at it.

"No," you say, shaking your head with a soft smile as you turn to face Bodhi. "I was just thinking how much I love this place. I'd be perfectly happy to stay here forever and never see Chantara or Basgiath ever again. Besides — you're my home, Bodhi. We could go anywhere in the world and I would not feel out of place as long as you're by my side."

He smiles at that, leaning in to capture your lips.

"You're my home too," he mumbles into the kiss. "But I'm glad you like Aretia, because it looks like we'll be here for some time."

[writinginatree]

Childhood Memories

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader (mentioned)

Summary: Your cousin Bodhi and you reminisce about your early childhood days.

Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 1: Childhood.

AO3

"What's your earliest memory?"

You flop down across your cousin's legs, and think back to the years before everything had gone to hell, summers spent running through flower-dotted meadows and swimming in mountain lakes, winters when the snow on Aretia's streets had piled up as high as you had been tall.

You're not sure how the conversation you'd meant to have about what Bodhi wanted for his birthday had turned to this topic, but you're not complaining. It's nice to think about the good old days, when everything had been so much simpler than it is now. There's still plenty of time to figure out a birthday gift for Bodhi later.

While not as tricky as that question, this does take some serious thinking, too. Your earliest memory... Which one might that be?

There's that time you were walking somewhere with Xaden and Garrick one winter, and one of them had lifted you up to pick an icicle from a windowsill — you'd been very little then, but you're not sure it's actually the earliest you can remember. You must have been three, maybe even four. There has to be something from even longer ago than that.

Finally you settle on something, and say, "Hmm, I think that would be the time you and Xaden took me horseback riding when I was like two or three."

You have fragments of memories older than that, but those are no more than fleeting impressions, disconnected and evasive. That first time you rode a horse is the earliest thing you can remember with absolute clarity, though you know it wasn't the first time you sat on one. Your dad always used to let you and Xaden come to the stable with him to see him off when he had to leave on provincial business, and had sat you on his horse a few times on those occasions — but only while it stood still.

"Oh gods, I remember," Bodhi laughs. He himself must have been around six at the time. "Your mom was furious when we came back and she saw you and Xaden on that big-ass horse. She was sure you'd fall off and get hurt."

Turning your head, you glance up at him in surprise. "Wait, really? I don't remember that part, just how we went riding."

You remember the wind blowing through your hair, the horse's warm neck beneath your small hand when you'd petted it, how secure you'd felt atop its back despite being much too small to reach the stirrups. With your brother's arm across your front holding you close to him while he held the reins in the other hand, the possibility of falling hadn't even occurred to you.

"Oh yeah, she made a huge fuss. Practically ripped you out of Xaden's arms and looked you over for injuries. You kept squirming and trying to get back to Xaden — or maybe to the horse, I don't know." Bodhi chuckles, then continues, "Either way she wouldn't let go of you, and once she was sure you were okay she spent like half an hour scolding us. And after she finally let us go inside we got another lecture from Fen and my mom when they realized we took you riding without an adult there."

"Damn. I'm kind of glad I don't remember all that."

And not just because you hate scoldings — remembering your mother always leaves you with the bitter aftertaste of abandonment. Too many otherwise happy memories are tainted by her.

Bodhi shakes his head, oblivious to those thoughts. "It was only Xaden and me who got scolded, not you. I don't think you were even there for the second lecture."

"Probably for the better," you laugh. "Do you remember how upset I used to get any time someone was angry with you or Xaden?"

The slightest critique of either of them had been enough to set you off, and no one other than the boys in question had been able to calm you.

It wasn't until you were a teenager that you stopped throwing tantrums at the mere suggestion that your brother or cousin had done anything wrong, though even then, you never entirely outgrew whatever underlying instinct made you so sensitive to those things. It still takes conscious effort to rein in your temper any time someone implies that Xaden or Bodhi are less than perfect. You know they aren't perfect — they have flaws like any other person. That goes for Xaden especially, with his abandonment issues and secrets. Regardless, you can't help getting furiously defensive of them both when someone speaks negatively of them, be it justified or not.

With a grin, Bodhi nods and reaches down a hand to playfully tousle your hair. "The only one who was allowed to complain about us in your presence was yourself, or you would burst into tears."

"Don't act like you guys didn't take full advantage of that to get away with all kind of shit," you say, rolling over to lie on your stomach, head resting on his knee.

"Of course we did! What kind of kid wouldn't love having a little crybaby who lies to keep them from getting in trouble?"

"A well-behaved one?"

Bodhi almost chokes on his laughter. "That's big coming from you, considering you were the least well-behaved of us all."

"I'm not claiming to have ever been anything but a brat," you grin, "but you guys weren't angels, either."

"I didn't claim we were," he echoes your own words, nudging you with his foot. "Just that we weren't as feral as you."

You snap your teeth at him. Bodhi pushes you away with his palm on your forehead. Seconds later, you're wrestling on the floor like a pair of feral kittens, your laughter and yelps loud enough to scare off a bird that had been perching outside the window.

No, he might not be quite as wild as you, but he's willing enough to play along.

[writinginatree]

From a very angsty one shot I'm working on for Day 5 of @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor week:

But you were helpless against all those adults — nobles, and riders, and infantry, all of them loyal to Navarre, every one of them filled with hatred for your father, and, by extension, you. There was nothing you could do when their patience snapped, and someone barked an order to get that fucking brat into the carriage before I slit her sorry throat!

this week's word is...

How to play: Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[writinginatree]

Murtagh Helps When You're Stressed

Headcanons + ficlet for @murtagh-thorn

Murtagh is always quick to notice the signs of things getting too much. How you retreat from him, pouring every bit of energy into the things stressing you out; the exhaustion so plain in your eyes despite your efforts to hide it.

Yeah, he's not having that.

Can and will throw hands with anyone who additionally stresses you out, regardless if it's through their incompetence, by ignorance, or malice.

He makes your to-do list his own, wordlessly taking care of any tasks you can delegate because he knows you won't let yourself get any rest until everything is done for the day.

If you have any appointments you're stressed about, he'll calmly reassure you that things will go okay. He'll definitely accompany you, a silent and steady presence hovering in the background ready to jump in if you need him.

When the stress gets so bad your body starts protesting, Murtagh steps in and puts a stop to whatever you're doing. He'll insist on you lying down and cuddling with him for a while, reasoning that you'll be much better equipped to deal with everything after some rest.

"Let me do it," Murtagh says as he comes up behind you, wrapping an arm around you and reaching around you with the other to pluck the sword you'd been whetting from your hand. "Please."

You let him have it, but even as you lean back against his chest and close your eyes, you can't stop yourself from mumbling, "I can do it."

"I know." A kiss to your temple, followed by the grind of the whetstone. "But you don't have to. I can tell how exhausted you are, so don't try to argue with me."

You smile. "I wasn't going to."

"Good."

He finishes the work you started in silence. When it's all done and the tools cleared away, he walks you to the living room, a hand on the small of your back.

"Sit. I'll make us dinner."

"I can—"

"Nuh-uh," he cuts you off. "It's my turn."

"But you hate cooking!"

Murtagh shakes his head with a small smile. "Hate is too strong a word. I may not be very fond of the task, but I don't mind if it's you I'm doing it for."

When you still hesitate, he gives you a fondly exasperated look. "Are you scared I will burn the kitchen to the ground?"

"Of course not. I just don't like sitting around doing nothing while you work."

"I know. But you have pushed yourself too hard this week. If you don't give yourself a break, it will do you more harm than good," he warns softly.

You sigh. As much as you don't like to admit it, he's right — you're already aching from being on your feet all day. Another hour or two of standing in the kitchen will only make your body even more upset.

"There's just so much going on right now. If I don't push myself, I won't be able to keep up with it all."

"Not if you insist on doing everything yourself. But you can leave some of it to me. It isn't weakness to accept help, remember?"

You nod. He's told you so countless times, but knowing it and actually internalizing it are two very different things. You're still working on the latter.

"So, will you let me take care of the cooking?" When you nod, he adds, "And put up your feet in the meantime? No running off to stress over something else."

Plopping down on the couch, you raise your hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'll just sit here and try to relax while you cook."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[writinginatree]

hi!!! it’s the imogen anon.

thank u so much for posting the new imogen fic 🥹 i love it so so much. little flicks of domesticity with imogen is soooooo so cute, i love it ☺️ also ice cream for breakfast lowkey sounds good as hell ngl

Hii! Yay, I'm so glad you liked it! <3 Ice cream is the best breakfast in summer haha