Summary: You've been friends with Cam Tauri since... you can't remember when. Unfortunately, as of three months ago, you were arranged to marry none other than his older brother.
A/N: Hello, random Tumblr return. I come bearing a very mid blurb that I thought of while listening to Ashe's new song Stop the Wedding! (highly recommend listening while reading!) Also, just reread the Empyrean books, so it's very much on my mind. And we need more Cam/Aaric fics because where's the love? Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if you do, a little like or repost doesn't hurt!
Warnings: Lowkey nothing minus cursing I think, arranged marriage, Halden being annoying, parent issues?
Words: 2k
Stop the Wedding!
"Stop the wedding, stop the wedding / If your heart is dreading, hands are sweating / While the sun is setting, you'll be getting out / Stop the wedding, stop the wedding"
You shouldn’t be here. You don’t want to be here. It’s taking everything in you to not bolt out of here and run for the hills.
You glance at your trembling hands, and you have to blink back a new well of threatening tears. Why are you here?
“[Y/N]?” your Lady-in-Waiting, Mariona, calls your attention, and you swallow out of habit only to find your mouth has run completely dry. “Are you alright?” You can tell by her pinched eyebrows and slight frown that she knows something’s wrong. Maybe it’s because she’s known you your whole life, or maybe it’s because your face is more exposing than you thought.
And then, just as you open your mouth to lie, she holds a stern finger up. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know it isn’t ‘nothing.’” Well, there goes that plan.
You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your head backwards—before sitting right back up because one of the handmaidens is busy pinning your hair up—in defeat. “Mariona,” you whine, but she only lifts a brow. “You know what’s wrong.”
“[Y/N]!” she swats you with one of your pale white gloves you left on the vanity. “You told me you were over this. You told me you’d accepted your fate!”
You groan, fists clenching. “Yes, well, that was when it still hadn’t felt… real. But, now that I’m sitting here in this stupid white dress—”
“—you mean beautiful—”
“—and getting my hair done and veil perfected and bouquet wrapped… Mariona, I can’t do this!” And that’s the first time in three months you’ve admitted it out loud because, over the course of that time, you really did try. Try to accept your role as an eligible Lady of Arkala, try to accept that you would soon become wife of the Navarrian heir, try to accept the fact that this was how life went in a a society like your’s.
Your friend holds your gaze for a moment, clearly trying to find the proper response to your outburst, but you both know there’s nothing that can fix this. You’re getting married whether you want to or not, and worse you’re getting married to Halden Tauri.
It truly is ironic that the Tauri family somehow possessed both your top and worst options.
Mariona seems to read your mind, though, and the next question uttered from her lips is, “You’ve spoken to Cam recently, haven’t you?”
Well, call her a mind reader.
At your lack of an answer, she throws her hands up in frustration. “I told you to stay away! That, if you thought marrying his brother was already hard enough, then seeing him would only make it harder!” She groans, sitting back in a chair and dropping her face into her hands. “This is not good.”
You’re inclined to agree, but you keep your mouth shut to avoid getting a shoe thrown at your face.
A moment passes, and then another, until finally—
“What’d he say?”
Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. That is not the follow-up you’d expected her to ask.
But, even so, you slowly find your words. “Well,” you start, biting your bottom lip, “he kind of found me sitting on the balcony—”
“The one that you guys have met on since you were children?” When you nod, she rolls her eyes. “So, he found you, but you wanted him to.” Well, she just read you to filth, but you ignore her words and continue.
“He found me and sat next to me, and we kind of just reminisced about growing up together—”
Somehow, she drops her head even deeper into her palms. “Oh, gods.”
“And then we talked about the next part of our lives, how everything’s changing, then I mentioned the wedding—mostly about how weird it’s gonna be as his sister-in-law—”
“—Yeah, no fucking kidding, Captain Obvious! Of course it’ll be weird if your former secret girlfriend married your asshole older brother—”
You continue to ignore her. “—and he just… went off. About how I shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t marry Halden. He talked about how we shouldn’t have to follow our parents rules.” You blink, and tears gloss your eyes. “He talked about our childhood dream to run off and join the circus. To get out of here. And then he…” you bite your lip right before the words fall out.
Mariona scoots forward in her seat, eyes wide. “He what? What did he say?”
“You have to swear yourself to secrecy, Mar,” you whisper, adjusting your own position so you hang off the edge, leaning forward and holding out a pinky. When she wraps her own around it, a solemn nod following, you let out a heavy breath. “He’s joining the rider’s quadrant.”
She gapes, a hand pressed to her chest. “He’s what?”
You shake your head, sitting back now, and your just realize how empty the room is. You bring a hand up to find your hair completely pinned, and your stomach churns. There’s not much time before they’ll summon you.
“Tomorrow’s Conscription Day. So, he’s going to run off and join. Once he’s through and bonded…” she shakes her head. “There’s not much his father can do.”
Mariona leans back, eyes closing as she collects her thoughts. “And that’s all he said?” The way she asks… she already knows the answer. She already knows there’s more. Cam and [Y/N] were never… simple. Or easy. Not when she’d been destined to marry his brother. And yet, they fell in love anyway.
You look at your hands once again. “He told me, ‘Don’t marry him.’” Your gaze flicks up. “He told me to come with him.”
Before Mariona even has a chance to reply, the door busts open, and you each jump up. Your hand clutches your necklace nervously and meet the gaze of the Infantry awaiting you. You don’t need him to tell you to come with him—you already know.
And slowly, you rise, the skirt of the white ballgown falling beneath you and covering your feet. You pull the gloves on, blink away your tears, and hold Mariona’s gaze as she pins the veil across your face.
“You look beautiful,” she whispers, tears now clouding her own eyes, and then she turns away.
Before you know it, you’re standing alone at the doors of the cathedral.
Most of the ceremony goes by in a… blur of sorts. As soon as the music starts playing, as soon as the doors swing open and your father grabs your arm to lead you down the aisle, it all becomes background noise.
You plaster a fake, trained smile across your lips—the one you’ve perfected throughout your entire childhood—and you listen to the lengthy speech the priest has planned for you. It’s a Royal Wedding, after all.
Guests stand, they sit, they stand, they sit. The orchestra plays gorgeous Navarrian tunes. They worship the gods and pray to them. And Halden smiles the entire time, bright eyed and looking at the crowd, and you remember… he’s always been a convincing performer.
But you don’t miss the look he gives you. Empty, careless. You may be his legal wife, but he knows much about mistresses.
And even though you’ve never liked him, your heart clenches just the same.
During another unnecessarily long prayer, you manage to finally cast a glance to the front row in the nave. There, you spot your parents watching you with bright eyes, Mariona with a sad smile, the King and Queen, and then—
Your breath catches as your eyes meet Cam’s.
Your connected gaze remains that way for what feels like several minutes, but is more close to around five seconds. And yet, those seconds—as eternal as they seem—are the best few seconds of this entire ceremony.
You manage to keep your gaze held on either Halden or the Priest until you reach the vows.
Your heart jumps to your throat, but to your relief, the Priest turns toward Halden first.
“Do you, Halden Tauri, heir of Navarre, take Lady [Y/N] [L/N] of Arkala as your lawful wife, to stand beside her in prosperity and hardship, in peace and in war, until the gods call you both home?”
Halden doesn’t even hesitate, a charming—fake—grin upturning the corners of his mouth.
“I do.”
Two words.
That’s all it takes.
Two words, and suddenly this is real.
The priest turns toward you, and the world itself seems to stop turning, his kind, wrinkled eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “And do you, [Y/N] [L/N], take Prince Halden Tauri of Navarre as your lawful husband, to stand beside him in prosperity and hardship, in peace and in war, until the gods call you both home?”
Your mouth opens.
But nothing comes out.
You mean to say something—truly, you do. And yet, all that’s left is silence. Silence that somehow echoes across the open Cathedral, that turns seconds of waiting into eons for the hundreds of eyes that watch you.
Your eyes dart to your family in the front row. Your father, who’s holding your mother’s hand. Your mother, who leans forward just slightly in anticipation. Mariona, who looks like she might burst into tears.
You try again now, about to face forward and say the forbidden words, but this time a voice in your head stops you. A voice from a few nights ago, a memory that you know would haunt you for the rest of your days.
Don’t marry him, [Y/N].
Come with me.
Your fingers curl around the bouquet, and you let your eyes find Halden again. He’s smiling—of course he is—and it’s that same artificial, practiced smile, polished and perfect for the kingdom to see. The smile of a man who has never once had to wonder whether he would get everything he wanted.
And in that moment, you realize something.
You have spent three months trying to convince yourself that you could survive this. That you could be his wife. That you could wake up every morning and pretend this was the life you wanted.
But you don't want it. You never did. You never will.
“I…” your voice cracks, and Halden’s smile falters. Your eyes flicker to the Priest who stands patiently awaiting your response.
You look down to the flowers again, swallowing, and you take a small step back before meeting his gaze again. “I’m sorry.”
Instantly, a murmur rolls through the Cathedral.
“What?” Halden hisses at you, his face suddenly changed from charismatic to hardened. Angry. He isn’t used to… this. To being rejected—and worse, being rejected in public. Anger flickers through his eyes.
You shake your head, taking another step back as soon as his hand wraps around your wrist. “I can’t,” you whisper.
And even though you said it quietly, it seems that everyone heard it—even in the very back of the room.
“[Y/N],” your father bites out quietly, and you look to find him and your mother, horror written all over their faces.
Yet you don’t care. Because beside them, Mariona looks… proud. And a few seats down from her—
You finally find Cam’s eyes once again.
And they’re lit up with joy.
Instantly, you drop your bouquet, and it hits the marble floor with a pathetic thud. Then, you lift your skirt with your now freed hands, kick off your heels so you can move faster, and begin to make your way down the stairs.
“I’m so sorry,” you tell your parents as you pass by them, but the words echo through the room, and gasps echo from every corner.
Before you know it, you’re running.
As you make your way down the aisle—a bit more chaotically than how you entered through it—you can hear your name screamed. You think it’s your mother. You can hear the strings squeak in the orchestra before they fall to an awkward pause between songs. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.
But you feel more free than you’ve ever felt in your entire life.
When you finally reach the double-doors, you manage to take one last glance over your shoulder, and the image that greets you is only rivalled by ancient artwork.
Halden stands next to the still-smiling Priest, looking incredulous and disturbed as ever. Your mother and father clutch each other in disbelief. Mariona is smiling with tears in her eyes. Every wedding guest is shouting and gasping and gossiping. And Cam… Cam is giving you a look worth a thousand words.
For a brief moment, Violet watched Y/n and Sloane walk ahead of them through the courtyard.
The two first-years were deep in conversation.
Sloane was gesturing animatedly about something, and Y/n was listening with that infuriatingly attentive expression she always seemed to wear.
Then Y/n glanced back.
Caught Violet looking.
And casually waved goodbye.
Like they hadn't spent the last two days unraveling twenty years of mysteries around her existence.
"See you later, Sorrengail."
Then she turned and continued walking beside Sloane.
Just like that.
Normal.
Gods, she was normal.
That somehow made everything worse.
Violet sighed.
Then immediately pivoted.
As she walked back to Brennan's office, the only thing she would tell anyone that she encountered was,
"Meeting."
Xaden didn't even ask.
He simply changed direction, and the others followed.
One by one.
Bodhi.
Imogen.
Garrick.
Ridoc.
Sawyer.
Rhiannon.
Dain.
Mira.
Eventually, they spilled into the office, and once the door shut, only silence followed. Everyone looked at Violet, waiting for any elaboration.
Violet dropped into a chair.
"Okay."
She rubbed her forehead.
"Good news and bad news. We have new information, but very few answers and so many new questions."
And so she told them.
The fireside conversations
The questions.
The answers.
Every detail she could remember.
No matter how small.
No matter how insignificant it seemed.
Because at this point, they were surviving on insignificant details and unsaid interpretations.
When she finished describing Y/n's explanation regarding her training, Garrick nodded immediately.
"Tracks."
Everyone looked at him.
"What?"
"The mentor thing."
He leaned back.
"That's basically what she's told me too."
Ridoc raised his hand.
"Same."
That earned several surprised looks.
"What?" Ridoc said defensively.
"I talk to people."
Imogen snorted.
"You annoy people."
"Both aren't mutually exclusive."
Violet ignored them.
Because everyone was thinking.
Rapidly.
Connecting pieces.
Trying to force a picture from fragments.
Then Violet carefully mentioned the part about Y/n's mother.
And Dain immediately went pale.
The reaction was so obvious everyone noticed.
Rhiannon frowned.
"Aetos?"
Silence.
Then:
"You breathing?"
Dain stared at the table.
For several seconds he didn't answer.
When he finally did, his voice was quieter than usual.
"My mother disappeared when I was younger."
The room went still.
"What?"
Dain swallowed.
"Just a few years after my sister was born. I think I could have been 6 or 7."
Nobody spoke.
Not even Ridoc.
"I haven't heard from her since. No one has. My father basically erased any record of her existence after that so..."
His jaw tightened.
"So hearing Y/n talk about her mother like she's alive is..."
He looked away.
"...weird."
That was putting it mildly.
Violet exchanged a glance with Mira.
Who looked equally unsettled.
Because if Y/n's mother was alive and seemingly present—
And Dain's mother had disappeared—
Then there were implications there nobody was ready to touch.
Not yet.
The room fell silent again.
Everyone digesting.
Processing.
Thinking.
Then suddenly—
Rhiannon sat up.
Eyes bright.
The look she got whenever a puzzle clicked.
"Wait."
Everyone turned.
Rhiannon pointed excitedly.
"Are there books on fighting styles?"
Violet blinked.
"Yes?"
Rhiannon laughed.
Actually laughed.
"There!"
She pointed at the table like she'd discovered gold.
"If we identify her fighting style—"
Bodhi immediately caught on.
"We can identify the regions she spent the most time in."
Rhiannon nodded vigorously.
"Exactly, and there we know where to look. We have riders and flyers from all across the continent that can provide something."
Imogen sat straighter.
"Each regional mentor had to follow some sort of ancient teaching or something like that."
"Yes!"
Now everyone was following.
Rhiannon practically bounced in her seat.
"If she learned from different masters, then some of her techniques have to originate somewhere."
Violet nodded.
"We can cross-reference."
A thoughtful expression appeared on her face.
"According to what she said, she spent a good amount of time in Tyrrendor. We can start with the archives here."
Bodhi immediately added:
"And if she spent time in Poromiel—"
He pointed toward the flight fields.
"The fliers could bring some light to that."
Now everyone was nodding too finally feeling like they could be getting somewhere.
"Someone has got to recognize something."
Sawyer leaned forward.
"Combat styles don't appear from nowhere."
Exactly.
Amongst so many things happening, so much darkness and uncertainty, Violet felt something click.
Finally.
They had lead.
An actual lead.
Not a theory.
Not speculation.
A lead.
The mood in the room shifted immediately.
Hope.
Momentum.
Direction.
Then Xaden ruined it.
Naturally.
"We'll do that when we have time."
Everyone groaned.
Ridoc threw his head back dramatically.
"There he goes."
"The responsible one."
"The tyrant."
"An enemy of fun."
Xaden didn't even look at him.
"We are still fighting a war."
That shut everyone up.
Unfortunately.
Because he was right.
The venin hadn't disappeared.
The wards still needed work.
Supply lines still mattered.
People were still dying.
Their mystery remained exactly that—
A mystery.
Not a priority.
At least officially.
Then Violet spoke.
Quietly.
Thoughtfully.
"What if it is correlated?"
Everyone turned.
"What?" Brennan asked.
Violet looked around the room.
"What if figuring out what happened to Y/n leads us to some answers?"
A pause.
"What if it connects to the venin? Or-or to the feathertails?! She spent some time in the Isles too? I mean, that has to amount to something. After all, no one can speed growth naturally. Memories can be blocked and pulled but not completely altered and erased, so what if? We all know leadership can't be trusted, and we all know that the Isles might have something that can help our wards and our fight. If figuring out what happened to Y/n can help us, it might be more of a priority than we think."
The room grew thoughtful again.
Because stranger things had happened.
Brennan had come back from the dead.
Venin existed.
Andarna existed.
Nothing was impossible anymore.
Then Dain spoke.
Softly.
"What if it leads to more enemies?"
Silence.
The words landed differently coming from him.
Because everyone could hear the grief beneath them.
The exhaustion.
The fear.
Violet looked at him.
Really looked.
And suddenly realized something she'd been avoiding.
For months.
She'd been so focused on her own connection to Y/n.
Her own confusion.
Her own grief.
That she'd forgotten something obvious.
This was Dain's sister.
Not hers.
His.
The little girl he'd loved, protected, lost, and mourned. She knew how Dain was. Where she was good at compartmentalizing her emotions, Dain just went with the motions. He would work until he couldn't ignore his feelings anymore.
And now—
Found.
Only to discover she didn't know who he was.
Gods.
That had to hurt.
More than any of them understood.
Violet opened her mouth.
Ready to say something.
Anything.
Then—
Knock.
Everyone froze.
Another knock.
Brennan frowned.
"Come in."
The door opened.
And every single person in the room looked surprised.
Sloane Mairi and Aaric Greycastle stepped inside.
The first-years immediately noticed the crowd.
The tension.
The fact that half the room looked guilty.
Which, admittedly, wasn't helping their case.
Slowly, she closed the door behind her.
Then, both crossed their arms.
"Wow."
Ridoc winced.
"What?"
"You all look incredibly suspicious for being some of the most feared or respected riders of this generation"
Nobody answered.
Sloane sighed.
Then looked directly at Violet.
Then Dain.
Then Xaden.
And suddenly her expression shifted.
Becoming serious.
"I think there are a few things you'll all be interested in."
The room immediately straightened.
Every ounce of attention locking onto her.
Sloane pointed a finger.
"But."
Ah, there it was.
The condition.
"I am only doing this out of concern and genuine care for my friend. You have to swear you didn't hear them from me."
Ridoc immediately leaned forward.
"Oh, this is good."
Imogen kicked his chair.
He ignored her.
Brennan folded his arms.
"Well, go on, what kind of things?"
Sloane glanced between Aaric and the closed door.
Both had agreed to do this because they were honestly concerned about Y/n. They had seen the group's fascination and curiosity with their friend, and that added to what the girl would occasionally tell them was enough to guarantee this.
Then back at the group.
Her gaze briefly lingering on Dain.
Long enough for everyone to notice.
When she finally spoke, her voice was lower.
Careful.
Measured.
"The kind that made me realize Y/n's background holds something much darker than she lets on."
Silence.
Complete.
Absolute.
Then Aaric added:
"And it should be something that holds our attention."
And suddenly every person in the room forgot about exhaustion.
Forgot about reports.
Forgot about sleep.
Because after months of questions...
They might finally be standing in front of their first real answers.
The room remained silent long after Sloane started speaking.
Not because nobody had questions.
Because every sentence somehow made things worse.
Or perhaps more accurately—
Sadder.
Sloane stood near the door, arms crossed, looking at each of them as she spoke.
"Y/n talks."
Ridoc blinked.
"That's not groundbreaking information."
Sloane shot him a look.
"She talks when she trusts people."
That immediately shut him up.
Because trust was clearly not something Y/n handed out freely.
"She's mentioned things that might have been random at first, but when you sit and think about them, you realize that it isn't normal. Not that any of us have a true definition of normality, but they are odd. And the worst part is, I think she doesn't even realize that they are strange."
Violet leaned forward.
Listening carefully.
Everyone was.
"I mean, she was never allowed, friends."
The room stilled.
Sloane shrugged.
"Or at least that's what it sounds like."
"What do you mean?" Mira asked.
"She said that her family raised her to believe that people weren't worth the risk."
Sloane frowned.
"As if that's normal."
It wasn't.
Not even remotely.
"She doesn't remember a good portion of her life. Firstly, because her early childhood years seem like a blur, and she can't identify a single solid memory. And the rest...she sometimes says she feels as if her brain blocked some of it cause it was too painful to revisit. Strangely, she finds peace with that. In her mind, as long as it isn't there, it can't hurt her."
Sloane continued.
Violet felt something cold settle in her stomach.
Her father had once told her that memory was strange.
That sometimes the mind protected itself.
She remembered him saying that after Brennan died.
After she'd had nightmares for months.
But nightmares and years of missing memories were two very different things.
"And although she is well traveled, she was also very... sheltered."
That wasn't the word she'd wanted.
Everyone could tell.
"Protected?"
Brennan offered.
"No."
Sloane immediately shook her head.
"Not protected."
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Controlled."
That landed differently.
Much differently.
"How controlled?" Xaden asked.
His voice had gone dangerously neutral.
The kind that meant he was paying very close attention.
That's when Aaric looked at him.
Then answered.
"It seems as if her family would do extensive background checks on anyone she ever interacted with."
That earned immediate reactions.
"What?" Bodhi asked.
Sloane nodded.
"Everyone."
Aaric continued, "Apparently, everyone who interacted with her had to be searched extensively. Whether it was teachers, neighbors, merchants, city officials, kids, women, quite literally anyone who could hold any chance of being around her."
The silence grew heavier.
"Not even royalty is guarded like that." Aaric finishes.
That wasn't protection.
That was surveillance.
Then Sloane dropped the next revelation.
And the room somehow got quieter.
"She said that she was glad that in Basgaith there was a rule that no one could get attacked in their sleep cause maybe she could finally sleep an entire night. Apparently, part of her training had been ensuring she was ready for defense at any given moment, so peace was a luxury."
Violet froze.
Garrick's expression immediately hardened.
"The fuck...even Basgaith grants you some sort of mercy on that."
Sloane nods.
"In her case, they called it training. They wanted her alert all the time. Ready to fight..."
Her voice carried bitterness now.
"And kill at any given moment ."
Nobody spoke. Violet's mind went back to Y/n's words in the fire pit...
" I've trained my whole life...ever since I can remember"
"To be a soldier?"
"No...not exactly...more like a general"
Violet knew that the word general wasn't the correct one. The hesitation, the pauses to think and find something safe to say, the rise in Y/n's voice at the end of her sentence- it had been to cover the reality of her life.
"She was raised to be an assassin..." Violet says out loud, and the reality of her statement dawns on all of them.
Sawyer slowly leaned back and let out a puff of air.
"That...is...oh shit"
Because everyone in that room knew exactly what kind of training produced that result.
And none of it was kind.
None of it was healthy.
None of it was something a child should endure.
Sloane swallowed and looks down.
Then continued.
"The worst part is that her excellence came with a cost."
Nobody answered.
Because nobody wanted to hear it.
"Apparently, anytime she failed to end the fight, she would get the 'hesitation' trained out of her."
That made Brennan sit straighter.
"What?"
Sloane nodded.
A pause.
"Cruelty was rewarded, whereas kindness was punished. "
The room fell silent.
Nobody asked what kind.
Nobody wanted specifics.
The implications were bad enough.
"They never gave her special treatment because she was a child."
The words echoed.
Child.
Child.
Child.
Because every new detail forced them to remember the same thing.
Y/n hadn't been taken at sixteen.
Or eighteen.
Or twenty.
She'd been twelve.
Twelve.
Gods.
Mira looked away first.
Then Brennan.
Both siblings suddenly finding the walls very interesting.
Because they remembered her at twelve.
They all did.
The tiny girl who used to chase dragons.
The girl who climbed trees.
The girl who hid sweets in her pockets.
The girl who couldn't possibly have deserved any of this.
Violet's chest tightened.
Aaric coughs and catches everyone's attention. He looks at Violet, trying to relay a silent message as he speaks his next words.
"I have no idea of how much this could help, but the people she grew up with weren't soldiers."
Everyone blinked.
"What?" Sawyer asked.
Sloane nodded.
"Apparently not."
"Then who were they?" Dain asked with a sort of quiet desperation.
Aaric looked at Violet once again and then at Xaden. Violet exchanged confused gazes.
"Her 'family' consisted of a group of merchants, gamblers, thieves, and mercenaries."
That last word held weight.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even Ridoc had nothing.
Because somehow that made the picture even stranger.
Not military.
Not government.
Not Navarre.
Not Poromiel.
Not rebels.
Not leadership.
Nothing fit.
Nothing.
Violet felt frustration begin to bubble within her. She could understand a little bit of what Aaric was trying to tell her between the lines. He had done research as well. He might have been some help. Y/n always spent her time with Sloane, and Aaric would join them sometimes. Growing up, she had heard both in the castle corridors and at the various military bases of rogue bandit groups. They had all types of groups of people from all parts of the continent. For the most part, they were harmless, just organized people who didn't affiliate with any political figure...and yet....she mentally noted to ask Aaric later cause he was trying to tell her something, but there were too many people around. She was of the few that knew his real identity so maybe when they were in private, she could-
"I ma not just telling you this because its fun or because I want to be a terrible friend."
Sloane crossed her arms.
And looked directly at all of them.
One by one.
Making sure they listened.
Making sure they understood.
"Quite the contrary, I am telling you this because I am her friend and I am concerned."
The room remained quiet.
"Y/n is a great person; she is kind, and funny, loyal, and sweet. She is one of the few people that has made this entire hellhole feel...decent. She doesn't deserve to be treated as an anomaly or a weapon cause she has had her fair share of that already. She is a human being, probably just as traumatized as the rest of us, if not more in some aspects."
The statement was immediate.
Certain.
Protective.
And for a brief moment, Violet saw Liam. She felt her throat close and her heart tug.
Not physically...never physically.
But in the way Sloane stood.
The way she defended the people she loved.
The way she refused to back down.
The way she cared.
"I found a real friend."
Sloane continued.
"And honestly?"
She looked around the room.
"You all observing her like she's some strange creature is freaking us out."
Ridoc visibly winced.
Brennan looked guilty.
Dain looked devastated.
Violet looked away.
Because she couldn't exactly argue.
Sloane was right.
Entirely right.
"She's human."
The words cut cleanly through the room.
"Treat her like it."
Nobody spoke.
Because there wasn't anything to say.
Then Sloane hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Before adding:
"I'm worried about her."
That got everyone's attention.
Immediately.
"What do you mean?" Xaden asked.
Sloane swallowed.
"Last night."
Her eyes flickered toward Violet.
"She said she found a way out."
"What?"
"Out."
Sloane repeated.
"Out of where she lived."
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
The implications arrived instantly.
Slowly.
Horribly.
"I don't know."
Sloane shook her head.
"Maybe she meant something else."
A pause.
"But..."
Her expression tightened.
"The way she said it..."
Nobody needed her to finish.
They already understood.
It sounded like escape.
Not departure.
Not leaving.
Escape.
And suddenly every piece of information shifted.
Again.
Because if Y/n escaped—
Then someone was probably looking for her.
Or had looked for her.
Or had allowed her to leave.
And all three possibilities were terrifying.
Sloane looked toward the door.
Then back at them.
"She's happy here. "
Her voice softened.
Genuine concern shining through.
"For some messed up reason, being in Basgaith and Aretia has helped her."
Violet thought of Y/n laughing around the fire.
Of her teasing Ridoc.
Of her arguing with Sloane.
Of her smiling at Vivifica.
Gods.
She was.
"All I am saying is, don't ruin that. Investigate all you want; for all we know, it could help us somehow. But don't ruin it."
Sloane said.
Not as a request.
As a warning.
Then she gave them a single nod.
Turned.
And left.
Aaric following at her tail.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence followed.
A very long silence.
Nobody knew what to say.
Because every answer had somehow created five new questions.
Finally Ridoc spoke.
Quietly.
For once.
"That's horrible."
No jokes.
No sarcasm.
Just honesty.
And somehow that made it hit harder.
Nobody disagreed.
Not one person.
Across the room, Dain stared at the table.
Mira looked furious.
Dain looked heartbroken.
Mira looked ready to kill someone.
And Xaden...
Xaden looked thoughtful.
Dangerously thoughtful.
The kind of thoughtful that usually preceded a very unpleasant discovery.
Eventually Violet broke the silence.
Barely above a whisper.
"If they trained her that way..."
Nobody interrupted.
"If they spent years turning her into a weapon..."
The words felt wrong.
But true.
Painfully true.
"Then why let her go?"
Silence.
Again.
Because that was the question.
The question.
Had she escaped?
Or had she been released?
And those were very different things.
If she escaped—
Then someone had lost their weapon.
If she was released—
Then someone had deployed it.
The thought settled over the room like a storm cloud.
Nobody liked either option.
Not even a little.
And as Violet sat there, staring at the closed door Sloane and Aaric had disappeared through, one final realization settled uneasily into place.
For months, they had been asking how Y/n was even alive.
How she returned.
How she forgot.
How she changed.
Maybe they had been asking the wrong questions.
Because perhaps the most important mystery wasn't what happened twenty years ago.
Perhaps it was much simpler.
Whoever took Y/n had invested years into shaping her.
Training her.
Protecting her.
Controlling her.
Breaking her down and rebuilding her into something dangerous.
People didn't spend that kind of time and effort on a child without a purpose.
And Violet couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere out there—
Someone was eventually going to come looking for what they had lost.
Taglist: If you'd like to be added, leave a comment or repost
hi just a question are you finishing what ones was lost
Yesss! Unlike the others from Fourth Wing, What once was lost is not finished yet. It is a story that i am actively writing as it goes, which is why i have asked for feedback on a love interest😅. Maybe with the following chapters you guys might help me with that.
I can say, it will develop heartbreakingly beautiful in the sense of her relationship with Dain and I can’t wait for you guys to read it :)
The cool evening air biting against Xaden's skin did not calm him as he urged Sgaeyl back towards his home. It reminded him of ash and fire, which would burn forever without offering him any comfort.
"You spent half of the day playing around like a hatchling. I was beginning to think you had decided to abandon me for a life of picking wildflowers and drinking tea." Sgaeyl's voice echoed in his mind as they landed in the courtyard.
"I did not play around," he mumbled under his breath as he dismounted, huffing and patting her scales.
"Oh, you absolutely did. I must say, I wouldn't mind flying over again if they calm you down that much." Sgaeyl huffed a cloud of warm air on his face as he stood in front of her, her golden eyes staring him down. He could feel her lingering amusement, knew she wanted to retort more but kept it in.
"The smell of lavender still clings to your body. It suits you, though poorly. It's peaceful and rare, something that you can't quite afford at the moment."
A faraway look shadowed his face as the familiar ache settled in his bones. She was right. Peace wasn't something he could afford while carrying the lives of hundreds of people.
He didn't reply to her as he turned towards the doors of the fortress. His boots crunched the dirt beneath softly as he neared it, already aware of the questions that would be thrown his way. The village felt almost like a fever dream now. For a few hours, he was able to escape the heavy weight of his responsibilities and titles.
The strange girl—bright and cheerful as she was—was able to soothe him with her presence, melting away the suffocating relationship with Violet from the back of his mind. He hadn't even told her his name, and yet she never pressed. She had offered him tea, a place to rest and a sanctuary to respite the raging storm inside him.
"I'm home," he mumbled under his breath as he opened the looming door, his voice inaudible for anyone but him to hear.
The words felt like bitter medicine on his tongue. Riorson House was not his home anymore; it was a battleground where he was residing.
"Cousin, you're back," Bodhi's voice was gentle as it entered Xaden's ears. His cousin's smile was as serene and contagious as it was every day. "Liam was worried, you know? No one knew where you were and you skipped the meeting."
"I… lost track of time," Xaden answered as they fell in step together, ignoring every other person on their way to the upper floor.
"Troubles with her again, huh?" Bodhi questioned but didn't receive any reply. It was the same topic each day. "I know you do not wish to hear it every day, but it's time you focus on yourself, brother. I will not bother you with what everyone has been telling you, but think about it."
Xaden remained quiet. He was well aware everyone knew about his situation, and he had received enough 'tips' to fix things up. Perhaps, it truly was time to end things for good now.
"Check up on him before you go to your room. You know how worried he gets, especially after the incident." Bodhi said as they reached Liam's room, patting his shoulder and walking away in the opposite direction.
Xaden nodded before knocking on the door, waiting for his brother to open it. Liam had nearly died back in Athebyne, the fight leaving him and Deigh gravely injured. Thankfully, they were able to save them both, but the trauma of that experience still haunted his brother every night. Of course, Liam had been improving as days went by, but the slightest of things were enough to spark the dread in him nowadays.
When he didn't hear any voice, he lightly opened the door, only to find the younger man already asleep. The bandages around his chest were wrapped recently, and they shifted with every deep breath he took. Xaden stepped towards the bed and pulled the blanket up, tucking it properly.
He would come back tomorrow and spend his morning with Liam to make sure he wouldn't worry more. For now, it was easier and better to let him sleep, and he had more pressing issues to look after as well.
Closing the doors behind him without any noise, he moved across the halls to reach his room. He was tired already and it hadn't even been long since he set foot here. Releasing a sigh, he pushed open his doors, only to freeze.
The shattered glass from the previous night was cleaned and removed, and the papers that had been scattered were stacked neatly on his desk. But his eyes didn't stay there, instead latching onto Violet's huddled frame sitting on his armchair.
She looked exhausted, dark bags beneath her eyes enhanced by the fire of the hearth. She was staring blankly at the papers but looked up hearing him enter. Her hair was pulled back in a long, messy braid, and he would have done anything to run his fingers through it in the past. He couldn't say the same now.
Their eyes locked for a long, agonising moment where neither said anything. The distance between them was jarring, and he wished he could cross it and just hold her.
"You're late."
Her voice was cold and raspy, devoid of the warmth and love he was so used to. But unlike the nights before, where she hurled poison at him, it seemed as if she had calmed down now.
Xaden slowly closed the heavy door behind him. The illusion of the valley, the village, and the sweet girl with flowers in her hair vanished completely, leaving him standing right back at the beginning. Here he stood now, back in his room with an aching heart and the woman who was no longer his.
"I lost track of time," he replied with the same words he had told his cousin, his voice soft and tired.
Violet let out a breath that sounded more like a short laugh. She shifted in her seat before standing up and walking around the table, and then leaning back against it.
"You'd expect the leader to be more aware of his time and surroundings."
His jaw tightened at that. Of course she would point out his shortcomings before anything else. For a second, a spark of irritation filled him as he tried to ignore her and moved towards his armoury to remove his daggers. Was he not even allowed to spend a few hours without anyone faulting him?
"I went for a long flight," he replied with an even tone, not wanting to agitate her more. "Sgaeyl wished to stretch her wings, and I wished for some air as well."
"You could have told me, at least. Nobody knew where you disappeared off to."
Told you? Xaden thought bitterly. The last time he told her anything, she had snapped at him and pushed him away. She looked at him as if he carried a knife around his back, ready to pounce on her. And she expected he could just go ahead and tell her that being with her was suffocating?
Instead of saying that, he sighed and turned towards her, walking the short distance to stand facing her. He looked at her face properly, trying to find the woman he missed every day. She looked just as broken as him, as if she was tired of all the fighting as well.
"And what would you have said, Violet? Would you have wanted to come with me? Or just spend the entire time looking for more secrets I've been hiding?" He asked softly, his voice a raw, honest whisper.
Violet flinched slightly, but she didn't deny it. Instead, she fired back angrily. "You do not get to ask me that, Xaden! You treat me like I'm some obstacle in your way, like something you hate just so you could protect all your secrets!"
That was all it took for them to go back to their usual arrangement in the past weeks. Xaden stepped forward as he snapped, making her stumble back into the desk. He made sure not to cage her; she was free to leave whenever. But he was angry and hurt enough to pull the ties of his restraint, which kept him silent.
"My secrets? You want to talk about my secrets, Violet? You want to talk about trust?" His chest heaved as he took a ragged breath in. "You stand there and look at me as if I am a monster! You act as if I lied to you every time I said anything! As if I didn't have the lives of innocent people depending on my silence! I never lied! I only kept a few things because I had to! I couldn't risk the people who depend on me to save them!"
"That doesn't give you the right to shut me out—"
"Stop saying that!" Shadows covered every corner as his shout echoed across the stone walls of the room. He slammed his fists against the surface of the desk before pulling away and clutching his hair.
"You act like a hypocrite!" He yelled, his voice cracking like he was about to cry. "Every single time something goes wrong, you turn to me as if I'm the one who planned it all! I have responsibilities resting on my shoulders every damn second of the day! God forbid I make a mistake. God forbid I keep something to myself because the truth would get people killed. I'm a human too! I make mistakes, and I carry the scars of those mistakes every minute of my life!"
You throw these accusations towards me like I didn't think the best of everyone involved. You act as if your lack of trust towards me is completely my fault when you never told me everything either! You demand absolute transparency from me and when I can't give you that, you punish me for it!"
Violet's mouth parted when he finished, her breath hitching as his breakdown washed over her. She wished to say so much, but the teary eyes staring at her made her keep her mouth shut.
"I'm tired, Violet," Xaden whispered, all the rage disappearing from his body and leaving behind a hollow husk.
He stepped back properly, wiping away the one miserable tear which escaped his eye as he straightened his back. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look at her face. If he looked back, he knew he would cave in, and he knew he couldn't afford another chance either. It was now or never.
"You think I always want to fight like this? You think I want to look at the woman who I love and feel like I'm standing at the edge of the world every time she opens her mouth?"
"Xaden…" Her voice broke, a sudden, terrifying realisation hitting her as her fingers trembled, reaching out. "Xaden, don't."
He stepped back completely, the physical distance expanding like an open chasm.
"We're destroying each other." His voice was dead and final as he dared to look up, forcing himself to say the words. "Every day we pretend there's something left to salvage, but we just destroy it more. I can't keep doing this to you, and I can't keep doing this to myself. I won't survive it anymore."
Violet stared at him, her face pale and devoid of any colour. The room around them held its breath as the words finally left his mouth.
The first volunteer, or victim, depending on who you asked, was Brennan.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Mira had looked around the room, pointed at him, and said:
"You."
Brennan had immediately objected.
"No."
"Yes."
"Mira—"
"You literally came back from the dead. If anyone gets to have the weird conversation with the formerly dead girl, it's you."
Ridoc had nearly choked laughing.
Even Xaden had looked suspiciously amused.
And thus Brennan found himself standing in front of Y/n Blackthorne three days later.
He'd faced venin.
Battles.
Death.
Political negotiations.
Somehow this was worse.
Much worse.
Y/n looked up from cleaning one of her daggers as he approached.
Immediately rising to her feet.
Disciplined.
Respectful.
Alert.
"Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh."
Gods.
That was strange.
Brennan swallowed.
"You've been assigned a supervised mission."
Her posture straightened further.
"Yes, sir."
The sir nearly made him wince.
She was older now.
Nearly grown.
And yet all he could see was the little girl who used to demand piggyback rides.
The little girl who cried when he left for Basgiath.
The little girl he'd mourned.
"Your team will be Cadet Mairi, Cadet Sorrengail, Cadet Gamlyn, and Lieutenant Tavis."
At the mention of Violet, something flickered in her expression.
Not recognition.
Interest.
Just interest.
"Understood."
Brennan nodded.
The conversation should have ended there.
It didn't.
Because he couldn't stop staring.
Couldn't stop comparing.
Couldn't stop searching for something familiar.
Anything.
Finally, Y/n tilted her head.
The gesture was so eerily reminiscent of her childhood self that Brennan nearly forgot how to breathe.
"Is there something else, sir?"
Gods.
She was evaluating him.
Not the other way around.
The realization hit like a punch.
Brennan recovered immediately.
Years of command helping him hide it.
"No."
A pause.
"That will be all."
Y/n nodded.
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
Then, sat down and returned to cleaning her dagger.
Dismissed.
Just like that.
When Brennan returned to the others later that evening, the room immediately fell silent.
Mira narrowed her eyes.
"What happened?"
Brennan sat heavily.
For several seconds he simply stared at the table.
Then finally spoke.
"I think I was the one being evaluated."
Ridoc immediately laughed.
Mira blinked.
Then snorted.
Actually snorted.
"Brennan Sorrengail."
He glared.
She ignored him.
"You got intimidated by a first-year."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I did not."
"You look offended."
Brennan pointed at her.
"I don't like this."
That only made her laugh harder.
The morning of the mission arrived cold and clear.
Dragons occupied nearly every available patch of field.
Cadets rushed through preparations.
Riders barked instructions.
Controlled chaos.
Just another day.
Xaden walked beside Violet toward the gathering point.
His hand occasionally brushing hers.
Not enough to attract attention.
Enough to ground her.
Ahead, Ridoc had apparently decided introductions were optional and friendship was inevitable.
Which was exactly the sort of strategy Ridoc would employ.
Sloane stood beside him laughing openly.
The sight alone would've surprised Violet a year ago.
Even more surprising was the source.
Y/n.
She was currently rolling her eyes while trying and failing not to smile.
"What did you even say?" Violet asked.
Ridoc immediately pointed at himself.
"Nothing but brilliance."
"That means something stupid," Sloane informed them.
"It was educational."
"It was about whether gryphons can be offended by an ugly saddle ."
"THEY CAN."
Y/n laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound carried across the field.
Easy.
Unrestrained.
For just a second—
Violet caught a glimpse of the girl she remembered.
Not the mystery.
Not the soldier.
Just Y/n.
Then Garrick approached from the opposite direction.
Hands behind his back.
Expression perfectly serious.
"The question appears harmless."
Sloane immediately groaned.
Ridoc pointed.
"See? Garrick gets it."
Y/n narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"If I were a flyer, I wouldn't trust either of you."
"Smart woman."
"Cadet."
"Smart cadet."
Violet smiled despite herself.
Watching them.
Watching Y/n.
Watching the people she'd somehow had.
Then sighed.
Xaden immediately noticed.
Of course he did.
He slowed his pace.
Motioning for Garrick to continue ahead and lead the others moved forward.
Leaving them a few steps behind.
"What's wrong?"
Violet looked ahead.
At Y/n.
At Sloane.
At Ridoc gesturing dramatically enough to probably cause an accident.
Then quietly said:
"I just wish she'd grown up with us."
Xaden remained silent.
Listening.
Because she needed this.
Needed to finally say it aloud.
"That's all."
Her voice softened.
"You know how strange this is?"
A sad smile appeared.
"Getting to know someone you literally watched as a baby and for some portion of their childhood."
Xaden squeezed her hand.
Violet continued.
"Do you have any idea how happy I was when she was born."
A small laugh.
"I wasn't the youngest anymore and had someone who wouldn't dote over me. On the contrary, I could care for her."
That earned a smile from him.
"I adored her."
She shook her head.
"We all did."
The words came easier now.
Less grief.
More memory.
"She was the princess of the household."
Xaden could actually picture it.
The way Mira had described her.
The way Brennan still looked shattered whenever she entered a room.
"He cared for her too."
Xaden raised an eyebrow.
"General Aetos?"
"Unfortunately."
That made him snort.
Violet laughed.
A genuine one this time.
"She was his little princess."
A pause.
"He loved her."
The admission surprised even Violet.
"You know."
She looked away.
"In his own twisted way."
Xaden didn't comment.
Because he understood complicated fathers better than anyone
"Mom and Dad adored her. My father would say that life had given us a healer..well, mender; a warrior, a scribe, a soldier, and a princess. Mom would always laugh at that and say that Y/n wasn't meant for any kind of violence."
Another pause.
"So Brennan and Mira would compete on who could make her laugh the loudest until she would get hiccups."
Then softer:
"Dain absolutely worshipped the ground she walked on."
Xaden remembered the look on Dain's face the day he arrived back. The uptight, snotty-ass whipe that he constantly knew was gone. Dain moved through the motions, trying to grasp reality and control his mind. Xaden never was a fan of him, but even he could pity Aetos.
Anyone could see the devastation.
The disbelief.
The grief.
Yes.
That tracked.
Violet exhaled.
"It's good we didn't send him first."
A tiny smile.
"He would've gone into shock."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
They shared a brief look.
Then continued toward the others.
By the time they arrived, Sloane was in the middle of arguing with Ridoc about something neither of them actually cared about.
Y/n leaned casually against Vivifica's foreleg.
Relaxed.
Comfortable.
Almost content.
Then she saw them.
The transformation was immediate.
Y/n straightened.
Adjusted her uniform despite the fact it was already immaculate.
Dropped every trace of casual humor.
And met both their gazes directly.
Professional.
Disciplined.
Controlled.
"Cadet Sorrengail."
Her eyes shifted.
"Lieutenant Riorson."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because she'd just addressed them as equals in rank hierarchy.
Not friends.
Not acquaintances.
Not people she'd spent weeks around.
Professionals.
Xaden exchanged a brief glance with Violet.
Then looked back at Y/n.
"Cadet Blackthorne."
His voice remained neutral.
"Ready?"
The response came instantly.
A smile appearing.
Easy.
Confident.
Almost cocky.
"Always."
Both Violet and Xaden raised their eyebrows.
Simultaneously.
The expression was so familiar that Garrick immediately noticed.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"You both did the eyebrow thing."
Ridoc pointed dramatically.
"The eyebrow thing is never good."
Y/n looked between them.
Unbothered.
Which somehow made it worse.
Vivifica rumbled behind her.
The blue swordtail lowering her head slightly.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time since this entire mystery began, Violet found herself feeling something unexpected.
Not grief.
Not confusion.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
Because for the next few days, they'd finally be spending real time together.
Not observing.
Not investigating.
Not theorizing.
Actually talking.
Actually learning.
And judging by the amused challenge currently dancing in Y/n's eyes—
This mission was about to become far more interesting than anyone had planned.
The mission had done something none of them had expected.
It had made Y/n real.
Not the dead girl.
Not the mystery.
Not the tragedy.
A person.
And unfortunately for everyone involved, that person was proving to be annoyingly competent.
The mission itself had gone remarkably smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Which, in Violet's experience, usually meant disaster was waiting around the corner.
Instead, Y/n had simply prevented three potential disasters before they happened.
The first by spotting tracks nobody else noticed.
The second by identifying an abandoned outpost that wasn't actually abandoned.
The third by correctly predicting a supply route change based on terrain conditions.
After the third time, Garrick had simply looked at her and said:
"Either you're incredibly smart or deeply concerning."
Y/n had smiled.
"Both can be true."
Garrick had immediately pointed at her.
"See? Concerning."
Even Violet had laughed at that.
And that was how they found themselves sitting in a clearing that evening.
The mission completed.
Dragons resting nearby.
Stars spreading overhead.
A fire crackling in front of them.
Sloane sat between Garrick and Y/n.
Ridoc beside Violet.
The atmosphere surprisingly relaxed.
For once.
No venin.
No battles.
No revelations.
Just riders.
The fire popped softly.
Night settling around them.
Then Sloane spoke.
"How did you learn to light a fire like that?"
Y/n looked up.
"Hm?"
"The fire."
Sloane gestured.
"You made it look way too easy."
Ridoc nodded.
"Honestly, I think you're the only person here who knew how to survive before Basgiath."
That earned a soft laugh.
Y/n leaned back on her hands.
Orange firelight dancing across her features.
"My family moved around a lot."
Something in Violet immediately sharpened.
Not visibly.
But enough that Tairn noticed.
Across the clearing, the black dragon shifted slightly.
Listening.
Y/n continued.
"Across the continent and a bit around the Isles too."
Now everyone was paying attention.
"So, you kind of pick some things up along the way."
Violet blinked.
That explained something.
Actually several things.
"Oh."
Y/n looked at her and raised a brow.
Violet tilted her head and played it off, "No wonder I couldn't place your accent."
That earned immediate understanding.
Y/n clicked her tongue.
"Yeah."
A grin appeared.
"It happens."
Then her expression softened.
"But it was fun."
Interesting.
Not resentful.
Not bitter.
Fond.
"You get to learn so much."
The firelight reflected in her eyes.
"Different dialects."
"Different stories."
"Different cultures."
She shrugged.
"People act like Navarre is one thing."
The smile widened.
"But it isn't."
Garrick immediately nodded.
"Not even close."
Y/n pointed at him.
"Finally, someone understands."
Ridoc gasped dramatically.
"You're replacing me."
"You're replaceable."
"Rude."
"I prefer the word honest."
Sloane laughed.
Hard enough that Garrick nearly joined her.
Y/n shook her head.
Still smiling.
"Even within Navarre there are huge differences."
Then her gaze drifted upward toward the stars.
"And Poromiel is beautiful."
That caught Violet's attention.
Not the statement.
The way she said it.
Like memory.
Like experience.
Not hearsay.
Garrick nodded.
"So I've heard."
"You should go."
"Bit difficult right now."
"Fair point."
Silence settled briefly.
Comfortable.
Then Ridoc asked:
"Where felt most like home?"
For a moment, Y/n seemed genuinely surprised by the question.
Then she smiled.
A small one.
Different from her usual sarcastic grin.
Softer.
"Tyrrendor."
Garrick immediately sat straighter and clapped her on her shoulder.
"Good answer."
"Biased." She quipped.
"Correctly biased." He answered proudly.
Sloane rolled her eyes.
Y/n laughed.
Then continued.
"I don't know."
She looked toward the distant mountains.
"There's something about mornings here."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"Feels... peaceful."
The word seemed important.
Like she'd spent a long time searching for it.
"You don't get that everywhere."
Garrick nodded, and Sloaned smirked.
"Exactly."
"Hell yeah."
That earned a snort from Violet.
But she understood.
Tyrrendor did have that effect.
Something ancient.
Something steady.
Something resilient.
Then a thought struck her.
Immediately.
"So you knew?"
Y/n looked over.
"Knew what?"
Violet didn't elaborate.
Didn't need to.
"About venin."
The fire suddenly seemed quieter.
The answer came without hesitation.
"Yeah."
Sloane blinked. Ridoc sat up. Garrick looked unsurprised.
Y/n shrugged.
"Before the reveal?"
Y/n nodded, not understanding her confusion.
Silence.
Then Ridoc said:
"That's not a normal answer."
"No?"
"I guess it isn't."
Y/n poked at the fire with a stick.
"But, when you move around enough, especially near border villages..."
Her expression grew thoughtful.
"Folklore changes."
Violet listened carefully.
Every word.
Every inflection.
Every detail.
"It stops being stories."
The crackle of the fire filled the pause.
"And starts becoming warnings."
Nobody spoke immediately.
Because they all knew exactly what she meant.
Villages knew things cities didn't.
People living closest to danger always did.
Eventually the conversation drifted elsewhere.
Toward dragons.
Toward signets.
Toward increasingly ridiculous theories from Ridoc.
"I think Sloane gets lightning."
"No." Sloane shook her head.
"Why not?"
"Because Violet already has lightning."
"So?"
"So that's greedy."
"That's not how signets work."
"It doesn't work like that how you explained either"
"It should."
Y/n laughed.
Sloane groaned.
Garrick looked exhausted.
Normal.
Wonderfully normal.
And while everyone continued talking—
Violet grew quiet.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
Connecting pieces.
Eventually she reached for Tairn.
Immediately feeling his awareness turn toward her.
Are you thinking the same thing I am?
A long pause.
That depends.
His tone was dry.
On whether you are overthinking or not.
Violet ignored him.
My family moved constantly when I was growing up.
I am aware.
The only way to stay hidden from someone powerful is to keep moving.
Silence.
Then Tairn became attentive.
Continue.
Violet watched Y/n laugh at something Ridoc said.
Watched the ease with which she fit into the group.
Watched the confidence.
The adaptability.
The survival instinct.
If someone took her...
She organized the thought carefully.
And wanted to keep her hidden...
Then remaining in one place would be dangerous.
Tairn hummed.
Understanding.
Particularly after her death.
Exactly.
The pieces clicked together.
My mother wouldn't be looking for a living Y/n.
Nor would General Aetos.
Because they believed she was dead.
Thus making concealment significantly easier.
Especially in Tyrrendor after the Apostasy.
Tairn sounded thoughtful now.
Which was never reassuring.
Or near Poromiel.
Or within Poromiel.
Violet nodded slightly.
Exactly.
A long silence followed.
Then Tairn said:
An interesting theory.
Not confirmation.
But not dismissal either.
Violet watched Y/n carefully.
Still laughing.
Still talking.
Still somehow existing despite everything they knew.
There are still too many unanswered questions.
Tairn's voice rumbled.
Precisely.
And there were.
So many.
Too many.
Questions that refused to leave her alone.
How did she become one year younger instead of three?
What happened to her memories?
Why keep using her mother's maiden name?
Each mystery spawned three more.
But one question lingered above all the others.
The one she couldn't stop returning to.
The one that mattered most.
Violet looked across the fire.
At the girl she'd once known.
At the stranger she'd only just begun meeting again.
And asked herself the question that haunted all of them.
Who raised her?
Not just where.
And how.
But who.
Because someone had taught her to fight.
To survive.
To disappear.
To navigate borders.
To recognize venin.
To speak like someone who had seen half the continent.
Someone had shaped the person sitting before them.
And whoever that someone was...
They were powerful.
Patient.
And very, very good at keeping secrets.
Across the bond, Tairn's response came low and thoughtful.
That, silver one, may be the most important question of all.
The camp grew quieter with every passing minute.
One by one, conversations died.
The fire settled into a low crackle.
Dragons shifted into sleep.
Eventually, only the sounds of the forest remained.
The distant rustling of leaves.
The occasional chirp of insects.
The slow breathing of sleeping riders.
Violet sat awake.
Or at least pretended to.
Because every few minutes, her eyes drifted back toward Y/n.
Toward the way she tended the fire.
Toward the way she never fully relaxed.
It wasn't obvious.
Most people wouldn't have noticed.
But Violet did.
Y/n was always listening.
Always aware.
Always cataloging.
Even now.
Especially now.
The flames flickered low.
Y/n casually reached down and adjusted a piece of dry grass with a stick. The fire immediately steadied.
Efficient.
Minimal effort.
Minimal waste.
Violet found herself watching.
Again.
And again.
And apparently one too many times.
Because Y/n finally looked up.
Directly at her.
The firelight danced across her face.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Y/n sighed.
"Ask."
Violet blinked.
"What?"
A small smile tugged at Y/n's mouth.
"You're not subtle, Sorrengail."
That immediately made Violet defensive.
"I can be subtle."
"You really can't."
The smile widened.
"I can practically see the questions clawing their way out of your skull."
Violet opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Y/n laughed softly.
"They've been there since I arrived."
Well.
That was embarrassing.
Somewhere in the distance Tairn gave a distinctly amused rumble through their bond.
You are about as subtle as a dragon in a library.
Helpful.
Always.
Violet ignored him.
The problem was that Y/n was right.
There were too many questions.
Far too many.
And most of them were personal.
Dangerously personal.
Questions she wasn't entitled to ask.
Not yet.
So she settled on something safer.
Something mission-related.
Or at least adjacent to it.
"How did you learn to fight like that?"
Y/n's brows rose slightly.
Violet continued.
"You're one of the best fighters in your year. I would go as far as to say, better than most in mine."
That earned a snort.
"You make it sound impressive."
"It is impressive. Fighting for me had been a struggle."
Violet leaned forward slightly.
"Emeterio barely corrects you, if he ever does."
A pause.
"You anticipate movements as if it were a dance and you know which move is next."
Another.
"You went undefeated in challenges."
Another.
"And you're lighter on your feet than most third-years."
The corner of Y/n's mouth twitched.
Clearly amused.
"That's a very polite way of saying you've been studying me."
Violet froze.
Y/n laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Relax, I think that is part of the nature of what we do."
She waved a hand dismissively.
"You've all been subtle."
A pause.
"Mostly."
That wasn't reassuring.
Violet's eyes narrowed.
"You noticed?"
"Oh, absolutely."
Y/n didn't even hesitate.
The answer came too quickly.
Too confidently.
"I know what to look for."
There it was again.
That phrase.
That implication.
I know what to look for.
Not I noticed.
Not I paid attention.
Something more practiced.
More deliberate.
Violet filed it away immediately.
Why would someone her age need to know that?
Why would someone have been taught that?
Y/n seemed to realize she'd revealed more than intended.
Because she looked away briefly.
Thinking.
Choosing her next words.
And instantly Violet knew she was about to receive a partial truth.
Not a lie.
Something more dangerous.
A truth missing pieces.
Finally, Y/n spoke.
"I've trained my whole life."
Simple.
Matter-of-fact.
"Ever since I can remember."
The answer felt rehearsed.
Not memorized.
Repeated.
Like she'd explained it before.
Many times.
"To be a soldier?"
Violet asked.
Y/n tilted her head, pursing her lips.
Thinking.
"No."
The answer surprised her.
"Not exactly."
Another pause.
Then:
"More like a general."
That made Violet blink. The way Y/n's voice rose in the end made Violet realize that general might not be the correct word for it, but it was the safe one.
Y/n stared into the fire.
"I had mentors."
Plural.
Interesting.
"Different teachers."
More interesting.
"Different places."
Very interesting.
"Different ways of thinking."
The fire crackled.
"They taught me strategy."
A pause.
"Combat."
Another.
"History."
Another.
"Politics."
Violet's mind immediately began working.
Mentors.
Teachers.
Travel.
Military education.
Not random.
Structured.
Purposeful.
Who educated a child like that?
And why?
Then another question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Did you ever feel trapped?"
The words hung in the air.
Y/n became very still.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Thoughtful.
Extremely thoughtful.
Long enough that Violet wondered if she'd gone too far. So she tried to soften it by making it more casual.
"I... I mean, like, did you ever want to do something other than train to be a rider? I wanted to be a scribe, and as you can see, I didn't follow through. But some people train all their lives with this one goal, so was that...was that yours too?"
Then Y/n shrugged.
A small movement.
Almost imperceptible.
And said:
"Can a bird know about the sky if all it's ever known are the same bars of its cage?"
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Not because the answer was sad.
Because it wasn't.
It was honest.... almost resigned.
And somehow that was worse.
Across the bond, Tairn's attention sharpened.
Interesting.
Very.
Y/n poked at the fire.
Watching sparks drift upward.
"I don't know."
Her voice softened.
"It's all I've ever known."
Not resentment.
Acceptance.
Which somehow made it more heartbreaking.
"I mean, it's what I'm good at."
A small smile appeared, with a hint of something Violet could infer as sadness.
"It's what I was built for."
Built.
Not raised.
Built.
Violet caught the distinction immediately.
Then Y/n shrugged again.
"So you find contentment where you can."
The statement sounded older than twenty years.
Much older.
"Basgiath was the natural choice."
That surprised Violet.
"You wanted to be there?"
A brief laugh escaped Y/n.
"Very much."
"You chose this?"
"Absolutely."
Another pause.
"My mother hated the idea."
Violet nearly forgot to breathe.
Her mother.
"I imagine she might still hold some resentment, especially after I went and joined a whole revolution. She's probably livid."
There it was again.
Mother.
Present tense.
Not had.
Has.
A living mother.
One who apparently objected to Basgiath.
And Y/n was indifferent to it.
Why?
Because she'd know someone would recognize Y/n?
Because she'd know Dain was here?
Because she'd know Violet was here?
Or because of something else entirely?
Questions multiplied instantly.
Y/n either didn't notice or chose not to comment.
"I trained for years to get here."
A wistful expression crossed her face.
Something almost vulnerable.
Almost.
"I always wanted to be a rider."
That, somehow, felt genuine.
Entirely genuine.
No hesitation.
No calculation.
Just truth.
Then suddenly she yawned.
The moment broken.
Human again.
Tired.
"We should probably sleep."
She stretched.
Rolling her shoulders.
"You taking next watch?"
Violet nodded.
"Yeah."
"Good."
Y/n stood.
Then pointed toward the fire.
"Throw dry grass on it occasionally."
She demonstrated.
"And keep turning it."
The flames adjusted immediately.
"It burns slower."
Violet nodded.
Y/n smiled.
"See?"
Then she turned.
Crossed the clearing.
And laid out her blanket beside Vivifica.
The blue swordtail immediately shifted.
Protectively.
Instinctively.
Curling her tail around Y/n's sleeping form.
The gesture was so natural it clearly happened often.
Y/n settled once.
Twice.
Then was asleep almost instantly.
As if she'd learned long ago to take rest whenever it was offered.
Violet stared into the fire.
Mind racing again.
Questions everywhere.
Eventually she reached for Tairn.
His response came immediately.
There is much to discuss once we return to Aretia.
That was an understatement.
Violet watched Y/n sleeping.
Protected beneath Vivifica's tail.
Looking younger somehow.
Less like the dangerous cadet everyone knew.
More like the girl she'd once been.
And yet—
Nothing fit.
Nothing.
The answers existed.
But they weren't connecting.
Not yet.
Her mother is alive, Violet thought.
Apparently.
She traveled everywhere.
Apparently.
Mentors trained her.
Apparently.
Tairn rumbled thoughtfully.
You dislike incomplete information.
I hate incomplete information.
That earned what was suspiciously close to dragon amusement.
Because there were too many contradictions.
Too many unknowns.
Who was this mother?
Was she Dain's mother?
Someone else entirely?
Why oppose Basgiath?
Why hide?
Why keep moving?
And perhaps most importantly—
What kind of training had Y/n actually received?
The version she'd given tonight sounded clean.
Orderly.
Educational.
But Violet couldn't shake the feeling that something uglier lived beneath it.
Something harder.
Something painful.
Because no one became that alert by accident.
No one learned to read rooms that quickly.
No one learned to sleep that lightly.
No one became that good at surviving unless survival had once been necessary.
The fire crackled softly.
Above, stars stretched endlessly across the sky.
And as Violet watched the sleeping girl who had once been a child she adored, one thought refused to leave her.
Not who took Y/n.
Not even why.
But something much simpler.
Much more human.
When Y/n spoke about her childhood—
About training.
About moving.
About being shaped into something—
There had been no anger.
No bitterness.
No resentment.
Only acceptance.
And somehow...
That frightened Violet more than if there had been hatred at all.
Taglist: If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment or reblog. :)
@river-of-woe @nikfigueiredo @littlepippilongstocking @narcissanarcissa @tati813 @interphellar @thelostbookmarks @rem-ie @illyrianprincess @delulustar @soldierfromthatmusic @chiara21 @thelostbookmarks @star-girlblog @muhhpfuuu @linnygirl09 @universallyrascaldreamercookie @thingsiwannaseelater @midnight-sun-bright-star @astrum-a @hallelujah-aries @littlemissclairbiggs @goldfishluvr @tiredqueen73 @celine-2007 @sousou2h @littowl @emmy5555 @ra-vens-ri-ver @whyucloudingmymind
Author's note: What do you all think of the story so far? Any theories?
The thing about war is that it takes over your mind. With the rebellion and venin being revealed, the riders being transferred to Aretia to fight for them, Violet hardly had time to even think of how Y/n was. She only knew that when the time came to choose, she had chosen their side.
Given that their attention was on much bigger problems, Violet had been relieved that neither Mira nor Brennan had come knocking to ask and question. There was nothing less that Violet preferred right now than having to listen to her sibling argue. It was a headache waiting to happen, and frankly, she had considered herself lucky that with the hordes of riders and flyers alike arriving, professors and generals rearranging to accommodate everyone to continue classes and preparations, Y/n had been able to pass as any other. But her siblings weren’t dumb, and honestly, Violet had never been one to be Zihnal’s favor.
The war room in Aretia had seen better conversations.
Maps still covered the table.
Markers still shifted across territories that no longer belonged to Navarre.
And yet—
None of that mattered right now.
Because all eyes were on the Sorrengails.
And the secret they had carried like a blade for too long.
Brennan stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, jaw tight in that familiar way that meant he was holding back far more anger than he was showing.
Mira stood beside him.
Sharpened.
Impatient.
Alive in a way that always made it hard to believe she’d been raised in the same house that buried so many truths.
Dain sat rigidly on the other side.
Violet beside him.
Xaden was behind her chair, silent as always when observation mattered more than intervention. Ever so thankful he was an only child.
Ridoc, Rhiannon, Sawyer, Garrick, Imogen, Bodhi—scattered around the room like pieces of a strategy that had stopped making sense weeks ago.
And now—
Everything was being dragged into the light.
Brennan broke first.
“How could she be alive?”
The question wasn’t curiosity.
It was fracture.
Mira tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp.
“Well,” she said, voice edged with something dangerously close to challenge, “maybe you can provide insight on that, brother.”
Brennan’s glare snapped to her immediately.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Mira shot back. “Just pointing out the irony.”
“WE saw her body,” Brennan said sharply, ignoring her entirely now. “She wasn’t a war death. She was a tragedy, not a casualty.”
The word landed heavy.
Too heavy.
Everyone in the room felt it.
Brennan’s voice lowered, controlled but shaking at the edges.
“And no one knows why she’s alive. Or why you all decided it was acceptable to keep this secret.”
Mira exhaled through her nose.
“Mom knew,” she added.
Brennan gave a humorless laugh.
“Mom is excellent at hiding secrets. That shouldn’t surprise you.”
Mira opened her mouth—
Violet cut in.
“We don't think she ever died.”
Silence dropped like a blade.
Brennan froze.
Mira stilled.
Even Garrick stopped shifting his weight.
“What?” Brennan asked slowly.
Violet swallowed.
Her voice was steadier now, but only just.
“She never died,” she repeated. "Instead, we think she was taken.”
Dain finally spoke, voice low.
“And replaced.”
That earned him a look from Brennan sharp enough to cut stone.
“Explain.”
So they did.
Piece by piece.
Carefully.
Violet led it, because she always did when truth felt too fragile to hold.
“She was gone from the fort that night,” Violet said. “But the body we found, it wasn’t hers. It matched her height, her coloring, enough to convince everyone in the panic of the search.”
Ridoc muttered, “Which is horrifying when you say it out loud.”
“Completely,” Sawyer muttered back.
“No signs of real identification,” Violet added quietly. “Not beyond what fear made us see.”
“And Aetos’s signet confirmed gaps,” Bodhi added.
Dain’s jaw tightened.
“Fragments,” he corrected. “Not confirmation.”
“But enough to know that things don’t add up,”Violet said.
Imogen leaned back slightly. “And she’s too good at all of it for it to be accidental.”
Sawyer nodded once. “She fights like she’s already has gone through Basgiath.”
That earned a silence again.
Mira slowly exhaled.
“So let me get this straight, she was taken,” she said. “And replaced with a body to fake her death. And trained into a weapon, a super soldier?”
“Most likely,” Violet confirmed.
Brennan looked away for a moment, processing.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“That still doesn’t explain how she’s alive now.”
No one answered immediately.
Because that was the part none of them could solve.
Finally, Mira spoke again.
“Has anyone asked her?”
The room went still.
Violet blinked.
Dain looked down.
Ridoc gave a very slow, very awkward cough.
Xaden didn’t move.
Mira’s expression sharpened.
“Oh, don’t tell me,” she said flatly. “You didn’t.”
Silence answered her.
Then she laughed.
Once.
Sharp and disbelieving.
“You’re telling me,” she continued, voice rising slightly, “that a girl who was supposedly dead for years shows up, probably traumatized, clearly trained, having survived something probably none of you understand and nobody thought to speak to her like a human being?”
Imogen shifted uncomfortably.
Garrick muttered, “It wasn’t that simple.”
Mira pointed at him immediately.
“You’re telling me it’s simpler to treat her like a battlefield anomaly than a person?”
No one answered.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
Mira turned slowly, scanning the table, directing her gaze to anyone with a rebellion relic.
“Did any of you think to ask Sloane?”
That landed harder.
Xaden’s gaze flicked briefly to Violet.
Ridoc frowned. “Sloane?”
“She spends most of her time with her,” Mira continued. “Aaric too.”
Dain stiffened slightly at Aaric’s name.
Mira pointed between Dain and Violet.
“You two know Aaric. The rest of you know Sloane. That’s already two bridges you refused to use.”
Violet’s shoulders lowered slightly.
That hit.
It hit because it was true.
Because in all the chaos with venin, war, rebellion, Aretia; they had reduced Y/n to a problem.
Not a person.
Violet’s voice came quieter than before.
“It’s too much.”
The admission wasn’t weakness.
It was exhaustion.
Mira’s expression softened immediately.
That shift was almost jarring.
Because Mira Sorrengail didn’t soften easily.
But she understood.
She always understood family fractures.
Especially ones carved by loss.
“I know,” she said more gently.
Silence stretched again.
Heavy, but different now.
Less defensive.
More reflective.
Brennan finally spoke again, quieter this time.
“She was a child.”
No one disagreed.
That was the truth at the center of all of it.
A twelve-year-old girl.
Gone.
Then returned.
Changed.
Alive.
Mira exhaled slowly.
“Then, why don't we stop treating her like a threat first?” she said. “And start treating her like someone who survived something we don’t understand at the moment.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
“Because we can conclude that whatever happened to her wasn’t gentle.”
No one argued.
Even Xaden didn’t.
Because they’d all seen enough to know that kind of truth when it stood in front of them.
Finally, Rhiannon spoke softly.
“So what now?”
A pause.
Then Garrick answered.
“Now we meet her.”
Imogen nodded once. “Properly.”
Ridoc sighed. “Without assuming she’s going to explode if we just look at her”
Rhiannon kicked him under the table, “not the moment”
Dain didn’t look up.
But his voice was quiet when he spoke.
“Without assuming anything.”
Violet exhaled slowly, knowing what he meant…without assuming she is the same person they cared for.
Something heavy had finally been set down—just slightly.
Brennan looked around the table one more time.
Then nodded.
“Then we start there.”
Outside the war room and everything beyond it, kept burning toward an uncertain future.
But for the first time in weeks…
They finally agreed on one thing.
Before answers.
Before conclusions.
Before war.
They needed to look at Y/n Blackthorne not as a mystery to solve—
but as a person who had been through something none of the could think of.
And figure out what that meant before it was too late.
Taglist: If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment or reblog :)
Summary: Violet's world is already shaken and torn...and now she just saw a face from the past that has no reason being in Basgaith. As a matter of fact, she has no reason even being alive. It is an old tragedy, one that had been buried between her family and Dain's, but history has a way of bringing up the past in such vicious ways.
summary: xaden despised attending the fancy dinners and ball nights. but as the heir to the tyrrendor throne and his father's responsible son, he couldn't really miss these events. but when he met the woman who hated the banquets perhaps even more than him, he couldn't help but fancy her.
warnings/tags: prince!xaden x princess!reader, protective xaden, period typical misogyny and creepy men
note: this is the last of my somewhat prewritten works for xaden and im gonna be travelling the upcoming few days, so the next posts might not be as fast as the earlier ones
wc: 1.7k
Xaden adjusted the gold-embroidered collar of his doublet with a sharp jerk, his jaw clenched impossibly tight. The looming doors of the ballroom stood just in front of him, seemingly turning into the gates of Malek's own lair as he neared them.
He despised these nights.
He despised the suffocating scent of expensive perfumes, the whispers and fake smiles of lords and ladies. They never saw him as a man, but only as the heir to his father's throne, eager to win his favour. But most of all, he despised that he couldn’t just turn on his heel and walk away. Instead, he had to entertain the ladies and other high-ranking women present. He was twenty now, and his father expected him to find a wife soon.
His father wasn't just a king; he was a leader and a warrior who fought for his people's freedom. Xaden respected and loved him far too much to shame him in front of all these nobles. But gods, these people tested the limits of his patience every time. It never helped that the ladies always only ever tried to flatter him with fake niceties. He always wondered if it would hurt them to ever be themselves more.
"Try to at least look alive, son. That frown on your face would scare off everyone within a mile." His father's hand landed on his shoulder with a soft laugh. "We have special guests on our premises today. I want them to think we are prosperous and cooperative, not plotting their doom."
"This is what my face usually looks like, Father. If they get scared of it, that is not my fault," Xaden replied smoothly as the doors opened and they stepped into the hall together. "And I am always plotting."
He smiled as his father laughed loudly, before moving towards the generals and leaving him to his own stuff.
Left alone, he let his eyes roam around the room and sweep over the crowd. A grimace made its way onto his mouth as he saw a familiar face, making her way towards him. He pivoted on his heels instantly, walking fast and mingling with a few nobles. Anything to save himself from possibly the most horrible company of the night.
The lords around him greeted him with fake cheers and pleasantries, asking him for his opinions on current political happenings. He nodded and smiled along with them, acting like the perfect prince he was.
As soon as the coast was clear, he took a run for it, dismissing the men with a rehearsed smile as he made his way to the corners. Somewhere where he would be hidden enough to not be bothered by anyone. The dessert table placed nearby was another reason, of course. If he had to suffer the whole night, he would rather do it with chocolate cakes on his side.
And then, he saw you.
You stood near the archway which opened to one of the balconies looking over at the gardens. You wore a fitted gown of midnight black, shimmering under the candlelights of the hall. But unlike other ladies, you held your back straight, shoulders braced, and chin raised. Your face screamed boredom as you stared at the people fluttering about, swirling the rich wine in your flute.
Xaden felt a strange pull tug at his chest, telling him to get closer to you. He didn't know who you were, but he knew from your expression that you hated being here. Your disdain matched his perfectly, and he'd go as far as to say you hated it even more than him. Without any further wait, his legs carried him across the floor towards you, his tall frame easily parting the crowd. But before he could actually reach you, someone else took the opportunity.
Lord Hale.
One of the noblemen from the neighbouring province with a reputation for leaving anyone utterly uncomfortable. Xaden's eyes narrowed as he watched how close the pompous lord was standing beside you, invading your space with a nasty grin. His fingers reached for your arm, grabbing it with familiarity which made you scowl.
"Come, Princess," Hale purred, his voice loud enough for Xaden to hear over the music. "With such a lovely face and body, you shouldn't spend the night alone. Show me a smile. A woman's duty is always to comply and perform well. Perhaps we could figure some arrangement out and spend our night together."
Xaden's blood went cold hearing those words, then boiling hot. A primal urge to protect you, and cut the fingers and tongue off that asshole filled his heart. You were a princess. Royalty. And Hale was treating you as if you were some piece of furniture he could own.
He saw the way your fingers twitched, ready to strike the man with a punishing slap. With large steps, he crossed the distance easily and gripped the arm holding yours in a tight grip. He felt your breath hitch as he placed himself just in front of you, his body restricting your view.
"Lord Hale," Xaden's voice was cold and smooth, cutting through the air with a sharp precision.
"P-Prince Xaden," Hale stammered out, stumbling back as Xaden's grip tightened on his arm. "I—the princess was just—"
"You were overstepping, my lord. Touching someone who clearly holds no interest or desire for your presence around her. Or of your opinions for that matter."
"My apologies, Your Highness, I meant no disrespect—"
"Out," Xaden interrupted, voice still calm but now laced with a dark intensity. His hand loosened its grip over the arm, leaving bruises the lord would find later on. "I won't repeat myself, my lord. Trust me, if it weren't for my father's presence, I would have kicked you out myself."
Hale scrambled away with his head bowed deep, not daring to look back. Silence stretched between the two royals as Xaden turned to face the woman behind him.
"I could have handled it myself, you know?" Your voice had an edge of defiance you didn't bother hiding.
A corner of Xaden's mouth tugged up in a small smirk as his hand closed around yours to raise it towards his lips.
"I have no doubt you could, Princess. It is simply my duty as your host to make sure my guests do not suffer from any harassment."
Your eyebrow raised at his action, allowing your hand to rest in his offered elbow as you both walked towards the balcony.
"A host who seems to hate this event as much as his guests do apparently."
"Hate is a strong word," Xaden mumbled as you both reached the balustrade, leaning his back against it as he turned his body a little to face you. "I prefer saying I detest the… idiotic crowd we royals have to suffer interacting with."
You laughed gently at that, pushing his shoulder lightly in retaliation as he smiled down at you.
"Fair enough," you said, giving your name and introducing yourself. "I must say, you wear the responsibilities of your crown quite well already, my Prince."
"As do you, my Princess. It is not every day you come across someone willing to attack a noble with such lethality in their eyes."
"Was it really that obvious?" You ask with a smile, your eyes twinkling in mischief as his face neared yours.
"If someone who knows what they're looking at," Xaden replied, his gaze dropping momentarily to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. "You looked ready to start a rebellion right here by the dessert table. Frankly, I was impressed."
"A rebellion, hm?" You hummed as the air between you sparked with something. "Do you know what they whisper about you in my homeland?"
"Whatever they say, I'm sure you wouldn't base your opinion of me off them. I simply prefer to do things my own way, if they're interesting enough."
"Am I interesting enough for you then, Prince Xaden? Or am I just another courtly distraction?"
Xaden felt a hot rush of desire pool low in his stomach. You were sharp and daring, fearless of his presence. Unlike other ladies, you didn't shy away from him, didn't act like you had a mask to uphold for his validation. You knew you were his equal, or perhaps even his better.
It was intoxicating.
"You are the only interesting thing that has happened in this room all evening," he answered honestly, one hand slowly easing down to your waist.
As the music shifted to another, a slow waltz echoing outside the halls, he glanced back once, knowing someone or the other would ask him for a dance.
"The preening ritual begins," he grimaced, keenly aware of the prying eyes around them, of both men and women waiting for a chance to strike.
"Remind me again why our parents think it is a good idea to force us to spend our time with these leeches?"
"It is our duty to appeal to the masses," Xaden deadpanned. Then he extended his hand toward you, palm upward, his fingers calloused and contrasting his perfect face. "Dance with me."
You blinked, looking down at his hand, then back up to his intense eyes staring at you with anticipation. "You just said you hate this."
"I hate the pageantry," Xaden corrected, his fingers twitching slightly as they enclosed around your hand gently. "Though, I can always appreciate good company, and I would be lying if I said you're anything short of that. Come, let's give them something actually worth whispering about."
A slow, wicked smile spread across your lips as you let him lead you into the middle of the crowd. His hand settled firmly against the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest as you fell into step with the music. You moved gracefully, body matching his rhythm effortlessly as if it were a routine you both shared every day.
"You know," you murmured, your face just inches from his, "for all they say about you, you're not entirely insufferable. I rather enjoy your company a lot myself."
"Careful, Princess," Xaden murmured back, his gaze locked onto yours with a fierce, burning intensity, pulling you just closer than propriety allowed. "Keep talking to me like that, and I might just kidnap you and take you all for myself. Might have to show you how much we could enjoy each other's company tonight."
Your breath hitched, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned in, lips nearly brushing his, and your voice a soft promise against the loud music.
"Try it, Riorson. I think I might not even fight you and just follow you willingly."
