whatever you do, don’t think about violet after those missing twelve hours.
getting interrogated so hard by the assembly and not being able to tell them anything of significance. don’t think about how they won’t believe that she’s missing that big of a chunk of time. don’t think about how she’ll have to sit there, in that room near that throne and how maybe she’ll go silent after a couple hours, much like she did when andarna left, but this time it’s not an empty, cold, catatonic state of silence. it’ll be a determined, hot, angry silence. eventually, they will release her, and she’ll be so eager to get out of the room with the throne that she’ll run straight to their room, only to come face to face with the fact that it’s no longer theirs. it’s all hers now.
don’t think about violet taking advantage of every ward he’s placed on the room, screaming and breaking and destroying herself and everything inside. she’ll be unable to set fire to the throne so she’ll take a dagger and split open the other chair that reeks of him, of them, sending soft wool padding and elegant upholstery flying in every direction. she’ll call on tairn’s power so she can unleash the creature within her that’ll be crawling up her throat, scratching at her organs and her lungs, digging it’s way out, but he’ll still be sleeping. recovering, from what? you shouldn’t think about it. about how violet will reach burnout, but not from her signet. it’ll be from her heart ache.
she’ll collapse in a corner on the floor surrounded by the chaos and destruction. the room will look how she feels. she won’t be able to get in the bed. she’ll fall asleep, propped against the wall, dreamlessly, for hours.
morning will come, and she’ll force herself into a cold bath. she’ll sit there, staring at nothing, but reliving it all.
the air in the room will shiver, running over her skin like ripples of the water she’s submerged in. a silence, and then a bang as imogen and mira burst into the bathing chamber.
violet will look over her shoulder at the two of them, long enough to clock the expressions on their faces; mira, shuttered with worry, and imogen, alight with fury. she’ll turn back around. “go away.”
and imogen, who she won’t want to talk to, won’t want to see, because she won’t give her back her fucking memories - will bite. “get up.”
violet won’t answer, but imogen doesn’t have the patience of the other members of violet’s little found family. she’ll close the distance between the door and the tub in two strides and yank violet up by her armpits, nudity and soaked skin be damned. violet will squirm and fight back, but imogen will drag her out of the tub, and violet will yank herself away, too angry to bother covering herself. who has the energy for modesty?
“cardulo -” mira will warn, but of course imogen will ignore her. “get the FUCK. UP. sorrengail.”
and violet will argue. “why don’t you get the FUCK out, imogen?”
and imogen’s eyes will light up with a swirl of emotions that violet’s never seen on her. fear. loneliness. “because you’re all i have!”
the silence that will follow this admission will be so tense, so palpable, it’ll threaten to choke the fight right out of violet. “what are you talking about?”
and imogen will sigh, a ragged sound. “liam, quinn…they’re dead. garrick, bodhi, xaden, they’re gone. i understood why you closed yourself off when andarna left and you were reeling from the loss of that bond. but you can’t do that this time. you made a promise. to lead. so i need you to lead, duchess. i need you to tell me what our first steps are in saving them. whether it’s with the cure you’ve been searching for or it’s with a trip to malek’s doorstep, i don’t care. i just need you to lead me. because you’re the only-” her voice will be thick with tears, her vocal fry heavy with the weight of her words. and this last part will be a whisper. “you’re all i have.”
and it’ll be this that calls to the part of violet that will go sit on that throne. imogen needs her. garrick, bodhi, they need her. her siblings, her friends need her. her people. and xaden…
he made her promise. he needs her.
so she’ll pull herself together, and she’ll walk out with her head high, radiating every bit of the duchess she is now.
but i just can’t think about it.
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