Please don't write anything write anything that compromises your health!
Yes, I'm okay now, thank you!🩷 I just got a little too immersed in the scene I was writing. I don't think I ever really processed the event from my childhood that I used for inspiration, so honestly, I think this was kinda good for me? It definitely felt cathartic haha. Anyway, the good news is I did finish the fic!! Probably gonna take a break to work on something else today, and then edit and post it tomorrow 🫶🏻
(Also, I promise it's not as angsty as this might make it sound. The whole scenario is actually kinda silly, there's just one scene where Berry gets a flashback to some traumatic shit.)
Summary: Xaden climbs through your window one late night, showing an astounding lack of self-preservation in the face of the freezing wind and your parents’ guards.
Warnings: Swearing, secret/forbidden relationship, allusions to reader having abusive parents. Established relationship, set pre-canon.
Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 7 and inspired by the Faun song "Diese Kalte Nacht" (which translates to "This Cold Night").
AO3
The wind was howling outside, so loud it drowned out the sound of pebbles hitting your window almost entirely. But there — another plink. So you hadn’t imagined it.
Frowning, you flung back the covers and sat up in bed. There was only one person you could think of who might want to see you at this late hour, but surely, he wouldn’t be so reckless as to sneak onto your parents’ estate… would he?
The stone floor of your room felt cold even through the thick rug that covered it as you padded to the window on bare feet. Though true winter had gone and taken all the snow with it, the temperatures had dropped to freezing once more these last few days, icy winds rattling the roofs and uprooting trees as if in a last rageful act of defiance against spring. It definitely wasn’t the kind of weather that invited one to go on an midnight excursion and throw pebbles at windows.
And yet, as you pulled aside the drapes, there he stood beneath your window — Xaden Riorson. It took only a glance to recognize him in the brightness of the moon, which peeked out between the clouds to gild his features with its silvery light.
Your heart stumbled, then resumed to beat at twice its regular pace. Part of you worried something terrible must have happened, because surely Xaden wouldn’t risk coming here without good reason. The rest of you knew better. His demeanor was far too relaxed for anything to be amiss — looking at him, you might’ve thought he was leisurely waiting for you in the market square as he did so often when you snuck out for dates, instead of breaking and entering your home at great peril.
You let yourself indulge in the sight of him for all of a second before worried frustration took over. He was bundled up in a heavy coat, but wore neither hat, nor scarf, nor even just a hood — nothing to keep him warm, nothing to hide his identity. That godsdamned, beautiful fool. If you could see him clearly enough to recognize him, then anyone else who happened to look out a window on this side of the building would be able to, as well. It was late, but that was no guarantee that your family and their staff were all asleep.
What in Amari’s name was he thinking?!
You threw open the window as quietly as you could in your rising panic. The cold wind raised goosebumps all over your body, curtains billowing like they were trying to wrestle you away from the window. You impatiently slapped them aside.
Xaden’s face lit up with a smile as he caught sight of you.
The ease with which you could make him smile, often with your mere presence, was something you were incredibly proud of, knowing there were very few people alive whom he allowed to see past the emotional walls he’d built. Even under the current circumstances, giddiness bubbled in your chest. You squashed it before it could bring an answering smile to your lips. This was not the time to act like a lovesick fool — not when Xaden was already acting foolish enough for both of you. Did he not realize what danger he was exposing himself to, or did he simply not care?
“What are you doing here?” you hissed into the darkness.
Xaden’s reply came accompanied by a lazy shrug. “Visiting you.”
Your indignation grew. He said it like it was not only obvious, but also the most natural thing in the world.
“Visiting me? Are you out of your godsdamned mind?! If my father sees you, he’ll fucking kill you!”
To your eternal frustration, your parents were so loyal to the King it bordered on fanaticism. You were strictly forbidden from interacting with the marked ones — the traitors’ children, as your parents preferred to call them — which was precisely what had driven you to seek out the pair of them fostered not far from your home, and befriend them. Never in a thousand years could you have guessed you would end up falling in love with one of them, and not just any of them, but the Great Betrayer’s son himself.
Xaden was entirely unlike what you’d been led to believe — neither hateful nor arrogant, and certainly not plotting the kingdom’s downfall like many in your parents’ social circle believed. He was smart, strong, handsome, and accordingly confident. Though he got morose and moody at times, he bore the scorn aimed at him because of his father’s failed rebellion with admirable dignity, never faltering under the burden of his responsibility for the other marked ones. His trust and affection were reserved for a select few, but those, he was fiercely protective of.
In the span of a few short months, you came to adore him more than life itself, though right now, you were sorely tempted to hurl your pillow at his smirking face as he said, “He’d have to catch me first.”
In a fair chase, Xaden would indeed stand a good chance of getting away. Unfortunately, the chase would most definitely not be fair, if an alarm were sounded about his intrusion.
“No, he doesn’t,” you retorted, already shivering in your sleepwear. You should’ve wrapped yourself in the comforter instead of leaving it on the bed. “He has guards to do that for him.”
Xaden waved your concern away, and you noted with relief that he’d at least had the sense to wear gloves. Still, you could see from here that he, too, was cold.
Guilt gnawed at you for keeping him standing out in the courtyard, entirely exposed to the bite of the wind, but encouraging him to come inside would have been madness. The doors were guarded, and while your window wasn’t situated particularly high above the ground, everything from the facade’s rough stone to the windowsill was slippery with frost, making it a difficult climb even for someone as athletic as Xaden, during which any sound he made would mean potential discovery. It was simply too great a risk.
“Damnit, Xaden, you have to leave! You know you can’t be here, and it’s too damn cold to stand there and argue with me. You’ll freeze.”
“If you’re so worried about that, maybe you should let me in.”
“No! Are even listening? Bad enough if you’re spotted outside, but if my parents catch you trying to get into my room they’ll have you executed for sure, and nothing I could say or do would stop them!”
Xaden scoffed, as if the risk of death were nothing more than a minor annoyance. “The only way I’ll get caught is if you keep shouting at me from the window.”
Cocky asshole. You almost wanted to slam the window shut on him, but knowing how obstinate he could be, that was likely to make matters worse: instead of leaving like a sensible person, he would just keep on standing there until he either froze into an ice sculpture, was caught and forcibly removed from the premise, or you caved and let him in.
After a few more seconds of contemplation, you did just that. Letting him inside was a risk, but continuing to argue with him would be an even greater one, he was right about that.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, fine! Get your stubborn ass in here before I change my mind.”
Xaden didn’t need to be told twice. Relief flashing over his face, he dashed forward, and you had to lean farther out to keep sight of him. Your heart pounded with fear as you watched him begin to climb. The hand- and footholds he found in the decorative stonework couldn’t be very secure. If he slipped, fell and hurt himself—
No, you couldn’t let yourself imagine it. Xaden would manage.
Stepping back from the window so he would have the space to pull himself inside when he reached it, you waited with bated breath for his head to appear in the opening. Seconds passed, feeling like hours. You didn’t hear a sound from Xaden, no matter how you strained your ears — the wind was too loud, or he too stealthy. On the bright side, that meant nobody else would hear him, either, but the silence unnerved you, as it left you no way to track his progress, no proof that he was still there. Would you even hear if he fell?
On the verge of worrying yourself into a panic attack, you jumped when a gloved hand gripped the window frame. The rest of Xaden followed. Thank gods.
Twisting through the opening and dropping to the floor was a matter of seconds, the quiet scrape of his boots on the stone floor the only sound he made during the whole process, and you had to admit to yourself that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he insisted he wouldn’t get caught through any fault of his own. Equally silently, he closed the window behind him, shutting out the cold and muffling the sound of the raging wind.
Then, he stood in front of you, murmuring a quiet, “Hi, love.”
“Don’t you hi love me,” you snapped in a whisper, heart still racing as you pointed your finger in his face. “I’m mad at you.”
“For wanting to see you?”
“For putting your life at stake to do so!”
Xaden only looked at you — not apologetic in the slightest, but with so much love in his eyes you couldn’t help but mellow. Pushing back his windblown hair, you kissed his forehead. His skin was icy.
“Let’s get you warmed up,” you softly commanded. Everything else was secondary.
Already peeling off his gloves, Xaden nodded. “Yeah. Get back in bed,” he said, pecking your lips. “I’ll join you in a second.”
You shook your head, reaching instead to unbutton his coat. After so long in the cold, his fingers would be so stiff it’d make it difficult to do it himself. “I’m not the one who went strolling through a windstorm.”
“No, but you’re the one only wearing pajamas. You’re barefoot, for fucks sake.”
He had you there. When you rose, you hadn’t dressed for spending minutes at the open window, an oversight you were now feeling the consequences of, though you tried your best not to let it show.
Xaden was frowning down at your feet like he was about to reverse the roles and scold you. Before he could start, you said, “Then you better cooperate, so we can both be warm and cozy as soon as possible.”
“Fine.” He stuffed his gloves into the coat’s pocket. As you finished unbuttoning the garment and reached up to push it down his shoulders, he caught your wrists and pressed a kiss to each hand. “Thanks.”
He had a natural talent for making it impossible to stay mad at him, you mused, draping his coat over the nearby desk chair before squatting to unlace his boots. You guided his feet out of them and to the floor, relieved to find them considerably warmer than your own, and neatly set the boots side by side below the window. Xaden pulled you upright with a kiss to the top of your head. Lacing hands, you quickly led him to the bed — on the cold floor, his feet wouldn’t stay warm for long, even if he was wearing thick socks.
You made a mental note to check for dirt and footprints around the window in the morning. Nobody would be able to guess the identity of your nightly visitor based on that alone, but the fact that he’d evidently snuck through the window would tell them enough to get you in serious trouble. Your parents didn’t care how or where you spent your free time; all that mattered to them was that you were home when they wanted you to be, stayed out of their way when they didn’t want you there, and never ever talked back or questioned their opinions. If you gave them reason to suspect you of keeping company they wouldn’t approve of, you could wave your freedom goodbye.
For now, you were safe enough, though. While you didn’t have a key to lock your room’s door with, nothing short of a fire would bring any of the estate’s other occupants to your chambers in the middle of the night, so long as you kept quiet.
Reaching the bed, you pushed Xaden to lie down first, grabbed the comforter, threw it around your shoulders like a cape, and settled on top of him. It took some squirming to make sure the comforter actually covered both of you from neck to toes, but a minute of shared effort later, you were comfortably snuggled up and already starting to feel warmer.
“Good?” you whispered.
“Perfect,” Xaden whispered back, kissing your cheek, then the other, and finally, your mouth.
For a while, you silently basked in each other’s presence, no sounds to be heard but the wind outside and your quiet breaths. Xaden’s toned body was soft and pliant beneath you, eyelids drooping as you played with his hair.
“You have to admit that coming here was a great idea,” he mumbled eventually.
“If we ignore the risk involved in sneaking onto the property, yes. Though I wish you’d picked a warmer night.”
“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have had any reason to act as my heated blanket.”
You huffed a laugh. You didn’t need the excuse of being cold to seek physical contact, and you both knew it.
After a moment, you asked, “Won’t you be in trouble with Duke Lindell if he notices you snuck out?”
Xaden shook his head. “Liam will cover for me if need be.”
“Xaden!” you scolded. “Don’t drag the poor guy into your escapades!”
“Relax. No one will notice I was ever here; not Lindell or Lewellen, and not your parents either. I’ll be gone before sunrise, I promise.”
“Alright.” You sighed. “I’m sorry we have to sneak around like this.”
It was an apology you’d made many times before, and as always, Xaden shook his head at it. “It’s not your fault your parents hate me.”
“It’s not your fault, either. I wish they weren’t so… so bigoted. You deserve better.”
Better than someone who could only meet him in secret, who let him stand out in the cold after he came all this way in such horrible weather, who didn’t dare say a word in his defense when his name was dragged through the dirt at social functions because the consequences of speaking up would be too dire.
“Nothing could be better than being here with you,” Xaden insisted, arms tightening around you. “And if I have to face a bit of wind and sneak past your parent’s guards to get that, then it only makes the reward even sweeter. They won’t control your life forever. One day, we’ll be able to see each other whenever we want, and until then, I’ll just keep climbing through your window. I don’t mind.”
“You’re such a sap,” you huffed, but it was exactly what you’d needed to hear.
I'm leaning towards "They met once during the Apostasy and it went terrible", so Berry doesn't know her very well herself, but she has spent a lot of time listening to Xaden complain about her... Her opinion of Cat is accordingly bad, lmao. And she's definitely gonna have to deal with Cat's nonsense during Iron Flame!😁
I have absolutely fallen in love with this series and I think one of my favourites has to be Quarantine, and I was wondering if we'd ever get any like it but with Bodhi or Xaden sick?
Ohh yes, that could be fun! Any wishes as to which of them gets sick/what kind of sick/at what age/etc.? My first idea would be that maybe the whole family comes down with something and Berry is the only one who didn't catch it, but I'd love to hear your suggestions too!🩷
Summary: The whole Riorson family is down with food poisoning after an unfortunate banquet — except for their youngest, who takes it upon herself to play nurse for her brothers.
Warnings: Swearing, illness (including multiple mentions of vomiting).
Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 6: Family. Part of my Raspberry Riorson series, but as per usual this can also be read on its own. Set when Berry is 9, Bodhi 13, Xaden 14.
AO3
Xaden pushed away the cup of herbal tea his little sister was holding to his lips. “That’s enough now, really. If I drink any more, I’ll just throw it up again.”
For the hundredth time, he wished he’d stayed home with her like she’d wanted him to, instead of attending the banquet the family had been invited to two days past. It would have spared him a lot of suffering.
Pursing her lips, she sat the tea down on his bedside table. “Later, then. You know Tony said it’s important you stay hydrated.”
Xaden nodded. It was hard to forget, seeing as she reminded him of the healer’s instructions almost hourly, determined to ensure he and Bodhi followed them to a T.
His cousin was currently asleep beside him, curled in on himself so he looked child-like and miserable. Their parents had wordlessly accepted that the boys had holed up in Xaden’s room together — it made it easier for them, too, being able to check on both of them at once. They’d been more reluctant to allow Xaden’s sister to tend to them, but after Tony had assured Dad that the food poisoning they’d diagnosed the family with was in no way contagious, he had finally given her permission to assist the healer. Better to keep her occupied this way, Xaden had heard him murmur to Bodhi’s mom, than to leave her entirely to her own devices. Neither of them was feeling well enough to really look after the nine-year-old.
So far, the arrangement was working out great.
She made a very dedicated nurse, if a little squeamish. Xaden could hardly fault her for that; had the roles been reversed, he wouldn’t have wanted to see her puke, either. Tony even entrusted her with making sure the boys took their medicine morning and evening, which she was so visibly proud of that Xaden had to smile each time she shoved the measuring spoon full of bright teal liquid into his mouth, despite the disgusting taste of it.
If Dad had let her, she probably would’ve slept curled up at the foot end of Xaden’s bed as well, in case he or Bodhi needed anything during the night. While Xaden would have never said so out loud, he had to admit Dad’s strict refusal on that front turned out to be justified — they both struggled to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time, jerked awake over and over by nausea, cramps, and bouts of vomiting. Having each other there throughout the night was a comfort, but also inconvenient because they kept waking each other as well as themselves. Their sister wouldn’t have been able to get a wink of sleep if she shared the bed with them.
Xaden sunk back into the pillows, eyes closing as she carded her fingers through his unwashed hair. Maybe he could nap a little, too. He was fatigued enough that he thought he might be able to fall asleep in spite of the way his stomach was currently aching.
He didn’t get the chance to try.
Bodhi woke with a start; rolling out of bed, he ran to the bathroom without a word. Xaden, now wide awake again, noted with concern that he was slightly unsteady on his feet. Two days of essentially no nutrition, since their stomachs were quick to eject anything they tried to consume, were taking their toll on both of them.
Their little nurse sighed. “I’m going to make more tea.”
If he was honest, Xaden was growing tired of the constant taste of herbs in his mouth (when he wasn’t currently throwing up, that was — though even then, he could still sometimes taste the tea in his puke), but he knew she needed something to do, to make her feel like she was helping, so he nodded. “Good idea. Why don’t you bring some to Dad and Bodhi’s mom, too, while you’re at it? I doubt Bodhs will be able to get down more than the half cup we still have, so you can take your time.”
Humming in agreement, she collected the empty teapot and left.
Thus left alone with nothing to help him tune out the pitiful sounds from the bathroom, Xaden clutched his hot water bottle to his stomach and tried to distract himself by speculating about whether the banquet’s hosts had fallen ill as well. Made spiteful by his suffering, he very much hoped so.
Lesser nobles located only a few hours’ ride from Aretia, they had invited what seemed to Xaden like all of Tyrrendor’s aristocracy, plus a bunch of people from other provinces, to celebrate the hundredth birthday of their current head-of-the-family’s retired mother. Xaden had never met the old lady before, but according to his father, she’d been rather influential in her prime, even working closely with his own grandparents on some occasions — which, he supposed, explained why they had to attend the celebration despite not having much to do with the family in current days.
It had been a terribly boring affair, in Xaden’s humble opinion, made bearable only by having Bodhi and Garrick by his side to quietly joke around with. The best part had been the huge buffet, offering so many different foods it was simply impossible for one person to try them all. There was only one thing all guests had eaten, served at the end of the evening: the fruit cake.
In the long, boring hours of lying here and trying to calm their stomachs through sheer force of will, Xaden and Bodhi had puzzled out that said cake must’ve been the root of their illness, since it was the only thing all three boys as well as their parents had eaten, and Tony was absolutely certain that what they were suffering from was food poisoning.
Xaden wished he had a spurned the cake — fool that he was, he’d told himself fruit cake was better than no cake, that it would be rude not to at least try it, even if personally, he would’ve preferred a chocolate one.
The consequences hadn’t taken very long to manifest. Bodhi was the first to feel them: on the way home, already within view of the fortress, he suddenly threw up. Xaden felt a little nauseous himself as they hurried the rest of the way home. He tried to convince himself it was only the sight of Bodhi being sick that had made him queasy, but as he went to tell his sister — who’d been allowed to stay up late to await their return — that they were back, he’d had to shove free of her hug and sprint into her bathroom, making it just in time to vomit into the toilet instead of all over the floor.
The adults, by then feeling sick themselves as well, had summoned the family’s healer. Unfortunately, there was only so much Tony could do. Once they had determined the cause of their illness, they gave the lot of them medicine to ease the worst of their symptoms, as well as instructions to get as much rest as possible while their bodies worked to get rid of the bad food and any bacteria or toxins it may have left behind in their stomachs. The vomiting was the body’s defense reaction, they explained — very unpleasant, but also very effective.
In other words: they had no choice but to deal with it.
The Riorsons retreated to their respective rooms; Garrick and his dad went home to recover in their own four walls.
Thinking of his best friend now, Xaden couldn’t help but feel a little smug that he, unlike Garrick, at least had the advantage of a little sister to fuss over him. On the other hand, Garrick probably wasn’t being pressured to drink litre after litre of herbal tea. Berry insisted the herbs’ healing qualities would help the boys get better quicker. Xaden could neither confirm nor disprove that claim; all he knew for sure was that his sister’s care made it easier to endure the ordeal of being ill, even if she couldn’t actually take away the discomfort.
Bodhi came back to bed, pallid and shaky. Xaden handed him his half-drunk cup of tea, which he gratefully drained in small, careful sips.
“Do you want my hot water bottle?” Xaden offered.
His cousin shook his head. “You need it more than me.”
That was probably true. Bodhi was throwing up more frequently than Xaden, but said his stomach barely hurt at all, unlike Xaden’s, which cramped, ached, and churned almost non-stop. He wasn’t sure which of them had it worse.
They didn’t speak any more, too miserable to make idle conversation.
Their little nurse remained gone longer than Xaden had expected. If he had known she would actually listen, he wouldn’t have suggested she take her time getting more tea. The silence felt unnatural and heavy without her there.
When she finally returned, she was frowning. “Dad is doing paperwork even though Tony told him to rest!” she tattled.
Xaden wasn’t surprised. The province didn’t run itself; as its Duke, their father couldn’t just take a week off because he had food poisoning.
“I’m sure he isn’t doing more than he can safely manage,” he tried to reassure her. “It’s not like he’s running around attending meetings, is he?”
“Well, no. He’s sitting in bed with a stack of papers this high.” She held one hand in front of her at hip height, the other as high above her head as she could reach, indicating the (most definitely exaggerated) size of the paperwork mountain. “And he said he’s taking lots of breaks — I guess so he doesn’t throw up on anything important — but I don’t understand why he would want to work at all when he’s still feeling bad!”
“Probably because there’s going to be three or four such stacks of work waiting for him by the time he’s better if he does nothing now,” Xaden shrugged.
She plopped down beside him with a huff, reaching for the teapot she had set down on the bedside table to pour two steaming cups of tea.
“Don’t forget to stay hydrated yourself, too,” Bodhi reminded her — a good point, as Xaden now realized he hadn’t seen her drink anything at all today.
“I am! I just had a glass of water while I waited for your tea to steep!”
“Good,” Bodhi praised.
The sulky look on her face evaporated, replaced by thoughtful consideration as she scanned the boys and their immediate surroundings for anything else she could do for them. Her gaze snagged on Xaden, or rather, on the item on his stomach. “Is your hot water bottle still warm enough?”
Xaden nodded. “Mhm, and my stomach doesn’t hurt as bad now, anyway.”
His sister beamed. “See? I knew the tea would help!”
Xaden didn’t know what had brought about the improvement — the ungodly amounts of tea she made him drink, the hot water bottle, or simple luck — and frankly, he didn’t care. He was just glad for the respite, which likely would not last long. The pain and nausea fluctuated in intensity, but Tony had said it would take several more days for the symptoms to fully abate, and even then, the cake’s victims would need to keep to a mild diet to begin with, since their stomachs would still be easily upset.
“Bodhi?”
“I’m okay for now,” he replied, reaching over to pat her head. “Honestly, the worst part is how raw my throat feels from all the puking.”
“I could get some honey to put in your tea… I just don’t know if your stomach will like that.”
“My stomach doesn’t like anything right now,” Bodhi scoffed, then shrugged. “Fuck it. Honey would be great.”
She was on her feet in an instant, bounding down the hall to fetch it for Bodhi.
“You’re going to regret that,” Xaden predicted.
“Ehh, it can’t get much worse than it is. Might as well make sure my tea tastes good, if I’m going to have to taste it twice.”
“That’s fucking disgusting.”
“You don’t say.”
Xaden rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea. Disgusting or not, there was a certain logic to Bodhi’s reasoning. Xaden would just have to hope that when their cups inevitably got mixed up again, his stomach wouldn’t begrudge him the honey too badly.
Their sister returned with the honey, Bodhi plopped a big spoonful into his tea, and Xaden dozed off.
When he woke, he was pleasantly surprised to find he’d managed to sleep for almost two hours without being bothered by his stomach. The pain was back, but still bearable, as was the nausea. He sat up slowly, not wanting to test his luck with any sudden movements. It would be amazing if he could make it through the rest of the day without another round of vomiting.
His sister looked up from the book she’d been quietly reading to Bodhi, curled against his side in the small space between them.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said. “It’s almost time to take your medicine so it can take effect before we try if you can keep down dinner today. Do you need anything first?” She didn't give him time to reply, so eager to be helpful it was backfiring. “Hot water bottle? Tea? You don’t have to throw up, do you?”
Xaden let the flood of questions wash over him, glad she was feeling so talkative.
“A hot water bottle would be nice,” he admitted when, falling silent, she gave him an expectant look.
“Coming right up!”
After she returned with the requested item, she gave them their medicine; then, the three of them curled up together, and she read to them to pass the time until dinner. The book was one of those adventure stories she favored, the sort where the good guy was obnoxiously kind and always managed to escape seemingly certain death at the last minute to bring down his evil foes. She had a few dozen of them on her shelves, and although Xaden wasn’t familiar with this particular one, it was easy to follow the plot despite having missed a few chapters while he napped — at their core, they were all the same.
With the hero securely tied up in the middle of his enemies’ camp while they discussed whether to kill him right away or use him as bait to capture his comrades as well, the book snapped shut, and their little nurse announced, “I’ll go make you some broth now.”
So she did, returning with the two bowls swifter than Xaden would’ve liked. Though uncomfortably aware of how empty his stomach was, he didn’t have much appetite, and dreaded the possibility that the food, plain and liquid as it was, would make him throw up again. Bodhi appeared similarly unenthusiastic as he accepted his bowl.
“Thanks, Berry,” he muttered, then, clearly stalling, “Did you make anything for yourself yet?”
When she shook her head, Xaden tutted, taking his own bowl and spoon from her and waving her towards the door with the latter. “Go on then. Just because we can’t have proper food is no reason you shouldn’t eat properly either. If you want to take care of us, you need to take care of yourself first.”
His sister pulled a face. “‘s not that I don’t want to have dinner, I just dunno what to have!”
Ah. Xaden should’ve guessed. It was always the same old problem with her. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised at how well she’d been doing in the decision-making department over the past days, presumably too preoccupied with worrying about the food poisoning to overthink anything else. She was unusually assertive when it came to making them drink their tea, broth, and medicine, probably due to being backed by Tony’s instructions.
“Just slap together a sandwich,” Bodhi suggested.
Xaden, dredging up the energy for what he hoped was an encouraging grin, added, “You could even make a sweet one, with aaaalll the chocolate spread you want. Nobody will know.”
She had even more of a sweet tooth than Xaden himself, and tended to use too much of everything: too much butter on too little bread, topped by too much chocolate spread, too much jam, too much honey; too much cocoa powder in her chocolate milk and too much sugar in her tea. The sweeter the better, as far as she was concerned, though savory toppings received similar treatment. She simply wasn’t any good at judging what the right amount would be without help. In any case, Xaden figured she deserved a sweet treat for how hard she worked to look after them.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Xaden affirmed, and Bodhi also nodded.
“Okay... Then I’ll go make a choccy sandwich now. Just call for me if you need anything.”
Xaden and Bodhi nodded obediently, even though they most definitely wouldn’t call for her. They had their own sad dinner, they had plenty of tea, they had a bucket and towels in case they didn’t make it to the bathroom before throwing up; there was nothing else they could possibly need that she would be able to provide, and even if there had been: she deserved to eat in peace.
Since she left the door open, Xaden saw her head in the direction of her own room first, then come past again a moment later on her way to the kitchen with her favorite teddy for company.
For a moment, he considered using the chance to sneak into the bathroom and pour the broth down the drain while she was gone. He thought better of it when his eyes met Bodhi’s. If he didn’t eat, his cousin wouldn’t, either, and Xaden didn’t want to be responsible for that. They had to keep their strength up.
Sighing, he dipped his spoon into the broth and hoped he would manage to keep it down.
Summary: Having a phobia of blood is anything but helpful when your only path to survival is to make it through the Riders Quadrant’s brutal training. But just when you begin to feel certain that it’s only a matter of time before this weakness of yours will get you killed, your section XO Bodhi Durran takes notice of your struggle and offers his help.
Warnings: Mild blood and injury, mentioned loss of parents and bullying, implied suicidal ideation.
Written for @empyreanevents's Tyrrendor Week Day 4: Conscription.
AO3
It’s just a slight nosebleed. Harmless. To anyone else, it would’ve been a minor annoyance, an incentive to push themselves a little harder and end this fight. To you, it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. You can take pain — could’ve dealt with a broken rib or twisted joint.
Blood, on the other hand…
As soon as that first drop hits the mat where you’ve doubled over after taking your opponent’s knee to the face, you know it’s over. That one little drop of red is all it takes to destroy any chance you had of winning this challenge.
The wave of nausea and lightheadedness is instant. You squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s useless; you can still feel more blood trickling down your face. You swallow. The taste of it is in your mouth, too. Fuck. You’re going to throw up.
“I yield,” you croak.
Without waiting for a response, you push to your feet and rush for the gym’s exit, careful to keep your eyes averted from the blood on the mat. By the time you reach the restroom, the bleeding has already stopped. It should’ve been a relief; instead, it makes you question whether the gods are deliberately mocking you.
Your hands shake as you bend over the sink and cup water in them to wash away the drying blood and rinse your mouth. Only once you’re certain all traces of red are gone do you raise your head. Meeting your own exhausted eyes in the mirror, you carefully dab your face dry with a paper towel.
There isn’t much to be seen of your injury — some minor swelling on the side of your nose that took the brunt of the attack, barely noticable. The cold water probably helped.
You try not to imagine what your squad mates will think, but the words they’ve thrown at you before echo in your mind, anyway. Wuss. Coward. Pathetic. And of course, they expected nothing else right from the start. Marked as a traitor, you’re destined to be a failure in their eyes.
True enough, you wouldn’t be here making such a fool of yourself if you hadn’t been forced into conscription as punishment for your parents’ sins against the kingdom. Sometimes, you wonder if it wouldn’t have been preferable if you’d never been offered this path to survival, if instead, you’d been put to death along with your parents. It’s a selfish thought, you know. Although not all marked ones will make it out of Basgiath alive, it at least is a fair chance for most of the others.
In regards to your own chances, you’ve been sceptical all along, and with every day of training and lessons that goes by, your pessimism grows. Though both your parents had been prodigious officers, and you’d always been proud of and admired them for it, becoming a soldier was not what you had imagined for yourself in life. It’s the bloodshed that bothers you most, but not only the bloodshed — you’re terrified to think that someday soon, it will be your duty to defend Navarre’s innocent citizens from those who would bring them harm, given you survive long enough to actually become a rider, and the brutal violence permeating the Quadrant threatens to suffocate you every day, more excessive than you could’ve ever imagined. The need for constant vigilance grates on you, the pressure to always be prepared for a fight… or a knife in the back. The longer you are here, the more painfully obvious it becomes that you aren’t made for this kind of life.
Even if you last until Threshing somehow — will any of the dragons be willing to take a rider unable to stomach the sight of blood? From everything you’ve been told about the creatures, they don’t seem like they’d be particularly understanding of such a weakness, though you suppose they must each have their own personal opinions and priorities just like humans, making it just barely possible, if unlikely, that there might be one who wouldn’t mind.
You sigh, throwing the paper towel into the trash with more force than necessary. It’s no use dwelling on these thoughts. You can only continue to try your best, inadequade as it might be, and if you die, you die.
When you exit the restroom, your section’s executive officer is leaning against the wall opposite the door, clearly waiting for you. The hallway is otherwise deserted, everyone else still in the gym from where shouts, clangs of metal, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh ring out as challenges continue.
You stop short, blurting, “Am I in trouble?”
It’s the only explanation you can think of for Bodhi’s presence. You’re not aware of any rules that prohibit cadets from leaving the gym during challenges, nor from yielding without being pinned or seriously injured, but even if not outright wrong, your behavior had certainly been unusual. Maybe your section leader decided you were making Tail Section look bad, though why he sent his XO and not your squad leader to scold you is beyond you.
Bodhi looks taken aback by your assumption, though, inquisitively cocking his head to the side. “You tell me. It looked like you were doing fine, and then you just yielded for seemingly no reason. I thought maybe that knee to the face did more damage than it looked like, but you seem okay now, so…” He shrugs. “I’m just curious, I guess.”
“It was the nosebleed,” you admit. “I— I don’t do well with blood, even when there’s just a little.”
You don’t know why you’re telling him this. You’re only acquainted in the fleeting way all marked ones are, and due to you being his subordinate — this is the first time you’ve spoken to each other one-on-one. Yet somehow, you’re comfortable around him. Maybe it’s the relief of not being in trouble after all.
In any case, the words are out now. Hearing them is strangely freeing; the last time you were open about your aversion to blood, your parents were still alive. An eternity ago, it feels like.
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
You frown. It hadn’t occurred to you to bother telling any of your superiors of your problem — what for, when it would only make you look weak, and at worst would cause word to spread so anyone might use the fact against you? But a second later, you realize that’s not what Bodhi means: he’s hinting at the secret meeting his cousin had held a few weeks ago.
You suppose you could have safely said something then, seeing as the whole point of that gathering had been for those marked first-years that were struggling to get help from the second- and third-years. No child of the rebellion would exploit the weakness of another — in theory, at least.
“I dunno,” you answer truthfully. “I guess I just didn’t see the point. I spent years trying to desensitize myself to the sight of blood in preparation for the quadrant — unsuccessfully, as you just saw. It’s nothing anyone can help me with, and… well, Riorson was very clear about not wanting us to waste his time with problems he can’t solve, so…”
You trail off with a shrug, unsure how to explain that you’ve long accepted that you’ll most likely die on one of those challenge mats, or be incinerated at Presentation if the dragons somehow sniff out your weakness.
“So just because you have a phobia of blood you can’t get rid of, you’ve decided asking for support is pointless? You’re just giving up?”
“What else am I meant to do? I can’t change that aspect of myself, and neither can anyone else.”
“No, but you can find ways around it. A fight needn’t always be bloody. Just because challenges are commonly fought with daggers doesn’t mean that’s what you have to use. With the right techniques, you can defeat or even kill someone without spilling a single drop of blood.”
He’s right, and that’s exactly what you’ve been trying to do, using a dagger only to block your opponent’s own and attacking with your bare hands. The problem? You never managed to win that way.
“Easier said than done,” you sigh. “All I’ve been taught is some super basic hand-to-hand, plus swords and daggers. I can’t win without using blades, and I’m not even good enough with those to get an opponent to yield without cutting them. And it only takes one unfortunate hit that makes me bleed to force me to yield instead.”
During your very first challenge, your knuckles had started bleeding after you got in a good punch, and you’d had to give up to wrap your hand lest you pass out in front of everyone.
“And that is where asking for help comes in.” Bodhi softens the reprimand with a small smile. In a graver tone, he continues, “Assuming you would like an alternative to accepting your doom as unavoidable, I’ll be happy to train with you.”
Your gaze snaps up to meet his. “You’d really do that?”
“I wouldn’t have offered it otherwise.”
“Right. Of course.” You shake your head, chuckling a little embarrassedly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to anyone in this place being nice to me.”
“I get it. The first few months are the worst, with all the first-years who’ve never been around marked ones before and assume the worst of us, and everyone so competitive about Threshing. Most of them will come around in time, you’ll see. Now, about that extra training: how does tomorrow after dinner sound for the first session?”
“Great. That’d be great.” You smile, feeling hopeful for the first time since you arrived at Basgiath. “Thank you.”
Do you have any idea when the Iron Squadron will meet Berry?
(I mean, when do you plan to post?)
Well, like I said, I'm not going to start actually writing that one just yet since I have so many other things I'm working on — I'm focusing on some stuff for Tyrrendor Week right now (one Xaden x reader, one Bodhi x reader, and a Berry part including both of them), then I also wanna do at least one fic for Pride Week, and also finish up two other Raspberry parts that have been sitting half-written in my drafts for months at this point. Sooo uhmm... possibly july?😅😅
since you don't have mdni on your blog, is it okay to follow, reblog, like, comment, etc as a minor??? i just love berry and she's so me and some of the fics of her are when she's my age and i resonate with her so deeply, i just want to make sure it's okay and not making you uncomfy!!!
Hi, yes that's totally okay! On the rare occasion I post something not suitable for minors (basically only during kinktober) it'll be marked as such and have a content label to ensure everyone's comfort and safety :)
I'm glad you like Raspberry!! Writing her is such a comfort to me, and is really helping me work through some of my childhood trauma; I'm very positively surprised she's so relatable to others as well despite the amount of self-indulgence that often goes into these fics🩷🩷
I imagined a scenario and wanted your opinion in it:
The iron squad sees Xaden with Berry, and they (the iron squad) look at Violet like "girl what?!" And then Violet goes "oh! That's Xaden sister" and the iron squad goes "wth! Xaden's sister?!"
I thought about it while rereading your last berry scenario and just thought that i'd have to tell you about it
Haha yes, everyone is going to be very shocked to find out that Xaden has a sister! I'm not sure if they'll actually see them together, since Berry will keep hiding in the family wing most of the time, but I have been toying with the idea of a part where Berry and Bodhi are sparring a little when the gym is empty and then, bam! enter Iron Squad!
Here's my notes on it so far ↓
Not really sure where to go from there, and in any case I've too many other works in progress right now to work on it any time soon, but yeah.
I have absolutely fallen in love with this series and I think one of my favourites has to be Quarantine, and I was wondering if we'd ever get any like it but with Bodhi or Xaden sick?
Ohh yes, that could be fun! Any wishes as to which of them gets sick/what kind of sick/at what age/etc.? My first idea would be that maybe the whole family comes down with something and Berry is the only one who didn't catch it, but I'd love to hear your suggestions too!🩷
Summary: In which your brother returns home with lots of company and you officially meet Violet Sorrengail for the first time.
Warnings: Swearing, Iron Flame spoilers, reader has selective mutism, social anxiety & a chronic headache.
Part of my Raspberry Riorson series, but should be readable without further context.
You’re curled up on your window seat, reading, when the unmistakable sound of dragonwings flapping outside makes you look up. Two dragons are in the process of landing, much closer to the fortress than is usual; a huge black one that can only be Tairn, and a Blue Daggertail you recognize as Sgaeyl. They touch down right in the courtyard.
Your heart beats faster, half excitement, half worry. Xaden is home — unannounced. Why? Some unexpected development must have given him cause to come, but is it a good or a bad one?
Marking your page, you set the book aside to watch the proceedings below. Three figures stand beside the dragons now: Xaden, Violet, and someone who went out to greet them. It’s hard to be sure in the fading daylight, but you think it might be Brennan.
Movement in the sky draws your attention away from the trio as they turn to come inside. The sight above takes your breath. Dragons, more of them than you’ve seen in one place since the Battle of Aretia — maybe even more than there had been then. They blot out out the sky like a giant dark cloud, except they’re approaching much faster than any cloud could, looking bigger with every second you watch.
Your pulse stutters with a surge of fear. Is it Navarre, coming to destroy your home again? Have they followed your brother here?
No, that doesn’t make any sense. Xaden would’ve noticed, would never have led them here. If he allowed them to come here, they must be allies, though you can’t fathom how or why such a big riot should’ve made the long flight from Basgiath. Is there to be a battle?
You watch transfixed as they make for the valley above the fortress, trying to figure out if you’ve seen any of these dragons before. Is Cuir among them? Chradh? It’s impossible to tell. To your wishful eyes, every Green looks like Cuir, every Brown like Chradh, and every one of the distant black-clad figures on their backs could be Bodhi or Garrick. You suppose you will have to wait to find out whether they’re here as well, though you can’t resist the urge to keep looking for them. With all those riders Xaden seems to have brought, it’s hard to imagine the two of them not among their ranks.
Sounds from next door finally distract you from your observations. Xaden. You’d expected him to remain downstairs for a while, to talk business with the Assembly, whose members are sure to be as shocked by the riot’s appearance as you are, and ensure they can sustain so many unannounced guests. Evidently, something else is more important.
It sounds like there are at least two people in his room with him, though you can’t make out who it is or what they’re saying.
You open your door, listening for any indication of what is going on without stepping outside. Would now be an okay time to interrupt, or should you wait until you can get your brother alone to welcome him home?
“Damn it, Xaden, I can’t work like this,” Brennan’s voice comes from Xaden’s room, muffled by the door but clearly intelligible. He sounds more annoyed than you’ve ever heard him. “Will you just go and say hi to your sister or help find room for the cadets or something? I’ll call you when I’m done here.”
For a moment — nothing. Xaden must be stubbornly remaining where he is.
Then a woman speaks; Violet, you assume. Her voice is too quiet for you to understand much, only “fine now” and “don’t need to watch”, from which you gather that she’s telling him it’s alright if he goes.
Listening closely, you can hear the door opening, and Xaden’s footsteps as he leaves the room: slow and reluctant. You step out into the hall yourself, right in time to see him look back with a worried frown before shutting the door behind him. When he turns and spots you, the frown disappears.
Just like the last time he was home, he looks tense and exhausted. The whole situation reminds you entirely too much of that day he and his squad showed up after their unexpected battle against the venin, what with Violet being mended in Xaden’s room — at least you’re 99% sure that’s what Brennan is doing in there. But although he’s obviously had a rough day, Xaden doesn’t seem lost and defeated like he did then, giving you hope that nobody has died this time, and Violet was able to walk inside on her own two feet, which is another good sign.
As Xaden’s gaze meets yours, he smiles and wordlessly spreads his arms — all the invitation you need to run the few steps between your rooms and let yourself crash into him with the full force of your momentum. Well aware that this is your preferred form of greeting, Xaden has braced himself accordingly and catches you with ease, merely rocking slightly back on his heels from the impact.
His arms close around you, and just like that, home finally feels like home again.
You close your eyes against the tears pricking behind your eyes, face pressed into the cold leather of the flight jacket he’s still wearing while you wrestle with the avalanche of your emotions. A minute, two; you’re not sure. Xaden leans his head against yours, neither of you breaking the silence. You never needed words to understand each other.
Finally, you feel steady enough to take half a step back, just far enough to look at his face without letting go of him entirely. Fidgeting with his fingers, you notice they’re still a little cold from the crisp autumn air, so you take his other hand too, and warm them between your own. You hope he didn’t catch a chill on the long flight — though seeing as he’s never been the type to easily get sick, and must have long become accustomed to flying in all kinds of worse weather, that worry is probably as laughable as it is unnecessary.
The thought of his journey here reminds you: “That was a lot of dragons that just landed outside.”
Xaden nods, and gives you a brief summary of the events that led to his homecoming: Violet’s idea to steal a couple of old books that may contain information useful for ensuring Aretia’s safety, how she was captured and held prisoner, his scheme to distract Basgiath’s leadership with dead wyvern so he could rescue her, and finally, her insistence that every cadet should be told the truth and given the choice whose side they’re on. About half the Quadrant came, he tells you, which is more than you would’ve expected.
The most important pieces of information you take from his explanation, however, are that yes, Bodhi and Garrick are here as well, and no, the riot does not have anywhere else to be — they definitely can’t return to Basgiath, after all that.
“So, you’ll be staying here, yes?” you ask to be absolutely sure you’re understanding this right. It seems almost too good to be true.
“Yeah. I’ll have to talk to the Assembly in the morning to figure out how exactly we’ll proceed, but I have no intention of leaving again, I can promise you that. Doesn’t mean I’ll always be home, of course,” he cautions when he sees the excited smile spreading over your face. “We’ve still got a war to fight, but at least we’ll be operating from here now.”
You just grin wider, practically bouncing in place with happy energy. The only thing that stops you from dancing circles around your brother is the knowledge that your chronic headache would make you pay for the exertion with a bad flare-up sooner than you could say oopsie. Your mini sprint into Xaden’s arms already increased the pain constantly pulsing behind your eyes. Totally worth it, but you’d rather not make it even worse.
You wrap your brother in another hug instead, squeezing him like you’re trying to crush his ribcage with your happiness.
These are the best news you’ve had in years! The situation has its downsides, of course — Navarre has got to be pissed that the truth about the venin is out now, and might be planning how to retaliate even now, though hopefully they don’t know about Aretia’s continued existence. The fortress is about to be filled with strangers, the mere thought of which makes you want to hide in your room and never come out. And, now that there is less need for secrecy, the revolution might well take more direct action against the venin, meaning your brothers will likely be risking their lives on the battlefield in the foreseeable future.
Still, none of that can dampen the sheer joy of having them home. Things will never go back to the way they were before the Apostasy, you have no illusions about that, long for it as you might, but this is a big step in the right direction.
Xaden had kept still, seemingly content to be treated like an oversized stress ball, but now, he retaliates. With his hands on either side of your waist, he lifts you high into the air, ignoring your affronted squeak at how effortlessly he broke your hold on him.
You pout down at him, put off by the change of perspective. Being taller than Xaden is fucking weird.
Then he grins, and your elation returns in full force, giggles bursting from you even as you squirm in an unconvincing pretense of wanting him to set you down. Eventually, he does, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as you lean against his side.
“I’m glad you’re home.”
Saying so seems a little unnecessary, when your happiness is so big it must be blatantly obvious, but you’re supposed to express your feelings with words when you can, and this once, doing so is as easy as breathing.
Your brother smiles back. “Yeah, me too.”
When Xaden returns to his room, you decide to prepare Bodhi’s and Garrick’s for them. Xaden told you they’re probably downstairs, helping get all the cadets settled in, and while you’re eager to see them, you have no interest in getting into the middle of that. So, you instead get rid of the dust that has gathered on their furniture in the months they’ve been gone, and make their beds. They’ll surely be tired from the long flight.
When you’ve tidied up to the best of your abilities, you sit down on Bodhi’s bed to wait for him — and promptly fall asleep, the lights still on.
You wake back up to the door opening, followed by the soft thud of Bodhi setting his pack on the floor. He must think you asleep, clearly trying to be quiet as he toes off his boots still standing by the door, until you move to rub your eyes.
“Oh, hi Berry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You brush the apology off with an incoherent mumble, still half-asleep as you stumble to your feet and into his arms. He smells like sweat and dragon, but you couldn’t care less.
“Did you talk to Xaden yet?” he asks.
“Mhh. He said you’re staying this time?”
You feel him nod.
“Yeah, I guess we are. Can you let me go shower real quick?”
A little hesitantly, you release him. »Want me to get you something to eat in the meantime?«
“Nah. You can barely keep your eyes open, Berry. Go back to sleep, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Too sleepy to argue the matter, you climb obediently back into his bed.
You vaguely register him pressing a kiss to the top of your head when he lies down beside you a little later, but don’t wake fully until the next morning. Bodhi is already gone, sunlight filtering through a gap between the curtains. A sandwich and glass of milk sit on the bedside table, like Bodhi knew you’d be hesitant to leave the room when you don’t know who might be outside. The family wing should be a safe haven for you, but not all of the barracks are serviceable; if there weren’t enough rooms there for everyone, the boys might’ve allowed some of the other marked ones to be placed on this floor for the time being.
Also, you’re pretty sure Violet slept in your brother’s room with him. It’s not that you don’t want to properly meet her, but you can’t deny you’re nervous about it, and would rather not be in your pajamas when it happens.
You gratefully eat the breakfast Bodhi left for you, then open the door just a gap wide to peer into the hall and make sure it’s empty. It is, and so is Garrick’s room when you look into it on the way back to your own. The bed is rumpled, and a few belongings scattered around the room that weren’t there last night, so he must’ve been inside to sleep and risen early, just like Bodhi. They’ll be downstairs, with the other riders they brought. Xaden, too, you suppose. He did mention there would be a lot of organizing to do.
With a sigh, you return to your room. You would’ve liked to greet Garrick as well, spend some time with the three of them, but you’re not going to go looking for them with all those strangers in the house, especially when they’re likely to be busy, anyway. For now, just knowing they’re somewhere nearby is good enough for you.
You pass the day without seeing anyone — no great feat, when you don’t leave your room except for briefly dashing into the family wing’s private kitchen to grab lunch.
When you try to do the same for dinner, however, your luck runs out. The door to your brother’s room opens just as you’re about to pass it, and out steps not Xaden, but a woman you’ve only seen unconscious or from afar before. Black uniform, silver-tipped brown braid, calm faced and even shorter than you’d realized — Violet Sorrengail does not make a particularly threatening sight, despite all the daggers strapped to her body.
Your legs turn to jelly nonetheless, a hot flare of panic burning through your veins as you come to an abrupt halt.
Caught in the middle of the hall, you have nowhere to run or hide, and doing so would be unacceptable, anyway, since she has already seen you. If you make her feel unwelcome, make it look like you want nothing to do with her, Xaden will be rightfully angry with you when he finds out.
Xaden! You dart a glance through the open door behind Violet, but your hope evaporates as quickly as it came — your brother’s room is empty; no Xaden inside, ready to save you from awkwardness.
You silently curse your timing. Just a minute earlier or later, and you would’ve missed each other. Why, oh why, did you have to run into her now, when you’re wholly unprepared for social interaction and none of the boys are anywhere in sight?
Knowing how much Violet means to Xaden, you want to meet her, you really do, but… not without Xaden there! How are you supposed to do this without him to guide you through the conversation?
You almost hope you’ll pass out from how fast your heart is racing, but of course, you’re not that lucky.
Violet gives you a smile without closing the distance between you. A small mercy; even with plenty of empty space on all sides, you feel cornered.
“Hi. You must be Xaden’s sister,” she says.
You nod. »And you’re… Violet.«
Fuck, you’re already being awkward. You’d almost signed you’re his girlfriend, but since you have no idea if they’ve finally stopped fighting about Xaden’s oh-so-horrible act of keeping secrets, you’re not sure how welcome that term would be, and in any case, it’s rudely impersonal. You hope the moment of hesitation didn’t come across as unfriendliness, and quickly add, »Nice to meet you.«
“You too.”
You can’t tell if she means it, too caught up in the sinking realization that you should’ve started by giving her your name. But if Xaden told her about you, he surely mentioned it, right? But then, wouldn’t she have used it when she greeted you, instead of asking if you’re Xaden’s sister? And— oh, gods damn it. You didn’t even say hi back! You really are making a total mess of this. Worse yet, you have zero ideas on what to say next. Can you just wish her a nice evening and continue on to the kitchen, or would that be rude?
To your immeasurable relief, Xaden rounds the corner from the staircase just then, his mouth curving upward at the sight of you two.
“Oh, good, you’ve already made each other’s acquaintance.” With a teasing smile in your direction, he adds, “I was just trying to decide on the best way to make you come out of your room so I could introduce you.”
That would’ve certainly been preferable, though you don’t relish being called out on your tendency to hide from new people right in front of one of said people.
Trembling so hard you don’t trust yourself to sign, you only give a slight shrug.
Your brother’s gaze softens. He steps a little closer to you, his hand a reassuring weight between your shoulder blades.
“I guess you won’t want to come downstairs with us, since everything’s still a bit chaotic with so many new people around,” he remarks.
It’s less of a question and more an excuse offered so you can retreat without the ordeal of admitting you’re overwhelmed, and you gratefully take it by nodding in agreement.
“Alright, bubs. I’ll send Bodhi or Garrick to bring you dinner when I see them.”
Before you ran into Violet, you’d planned to content yourself with one of the simpler meals you can make yourself in the family kitchen; now, you’re so jittery you’re not sure you can get anything down at all. Nonetheless, you nod again. You wouldn’t dream of passing up the chance to see Bodhi or Garrick — maybe even both of them, if you’re lucky! — and by the time they show up, your stomach might well have stopped twisting itself into knots of anxiety.
You cling to the prospect of their company as you fumble your way through empty pleasantries and bidding each other a good evening, and flee into your room as soon as Xaden and Violet have finally turned their backs on you.
The door safely shut behind you, you slide down it to the floor. Taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself, you close your eyes and focus on the feeling of cool wood against the back of your head.
You’re okay. You survived it.
Your body hasn’t gotten the message yet, still on the verge of fight or flight mode. Your mind is being far from helpful, already beginning its loop of replaying the conversation over and over to pick it apart for all the things you should’ve said and done differently. There’s a lot of those. The amount of awkwardness you managed to squeeze into a timeframe of less than five minutes would be impressive, if you weren’t so upset about it.
You try to convince yourself it wasn’t so bad, that you made an okay first impression. If Violet expected you to be as suave and eloquent as Xaden is, well, then that’s hardly your fault, is it? Did he prewarn her, or is he just now explaining what a mess you are? Why do you even care? It’s no big deal, it shouldn’t matter.
Decisively pushing to your feet, you duck into the space beneath your loft bed and start folding blankets and fluffing pillows so you’ll have room to eat there.
You won’t think on the encounter any more. You tried your best. And if that wasn’t good enough it’s too fucking bad, because you don’t care (…except you do, you always do).
Hopefully, Bodhi or Garrick will show up soon. You could certainly use the distraction.
How to play: Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.
Fuck, you’re already being awkward. You’d almost signed you’re his girlfriend, but since you have no idea if they’ve finally stopped fighting about Xaden’s oh-so-horrible act of keeping secrets, you’re not sure how welcome that term would be, and in any case, it’s rudely impersonal. You hope the moment of hesitation didn’t come across as unfriendliness, and quickly add, »Nice to meet you.«
Does Violet have any knowledge of Berry before meeting her? or is this another one of the marked's secrets that she gets angry at Xaden about?
Violet knows about Berry before they meet! I'm still a little undecided about when exactly Xaden told her about her, but I was thinking sometime during the first half of Iron Flame.
This is still subject to change, but in my notes it currently goes something like this: Xaden and Vi are lying in bed (possibly at Samara? I need to do a reread, but the chapter where Xay takes her to the dagger dropoff might be a good time), and Xaden (talking mind-to-mind cus he's paranoid when it comes to Berry's safety) is like "hey, remember when you asked me if I have siblings? Well, actually I do have a little sister, but absolutely nobody can know about that". I'd change it from canon so he kinda evaded that initial question instead of saying no, maybe by pointing out that Liam is his foster brother or something, because I don't wanna create any additional conflict between them by having him straight up lie lol (and because Xaden wouldn't like to outright deny Berry's existence like that — that's his baby sister and he's so proud of that fact he'd be constantly yapping about her to everyone if he could!!). Anyway, Vi would be taken aback for a moment, but then she'd realize what a huge sign of trust this revelation is — they'd talk some more, Xaden telling her a little about what Berry is like, why Fen decided to hide her existence from Navarre, and that even most of the marked ones don't know about her. Of course he'd make it a point to obscure where Berry is, just in case, but I think that's something Violet will be understanding of, and by the time they finally meet she's mostly just curious to see Xay in Big Brother Mode.
...Damn that got kinda long, sorry if you didn't want that many details xD
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