Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness has been my only companion for what feels like an eternity. In the rare moments of consciousness, I barely grasp reality before it slips away again, like sand through my fingers. But even in the haze, there's one constant—a presence, soft and unwavering, lingering beside me. Violet.

Even in my deepest agony, I know she's here. She's always here. Her delicate fingers brush over my skin sometimes, her voice whispers words I can't quite catch, and when the fever rages through me, I swear I hear her murmuring reassurances into my ear. It's the only tether I have to the world I abandoned when I turned Maven and ran from her-to keep her safe, to shield her from what l'd become. But she found me.

Of course she did. She always finds me.

And now... now I feel different.

Whole.

I blink against the dull light filtering through the room, my chest rising with a steady breath that feels foreign after so long. The weight of exhaustion still lingers, but there's no hunger clinging to me anymore.

No crawling darkness in my veins.

I'm... human. Fully, entirely human.

And the realisation hits me like Violence’s lightning.

Sgaeyl’s presence drums through my head and the pure, raw relief I feel from her would knock me off my knees were I standing - You’re back, Shadowed One

A quiet sigh stirs beside me, and I turn my head, sluggish and aching, to see her. Violet. My Violet.

She's curled up in the chair beside the bed, her face turned toward me even in sleep, brows furrowed as if even unconscious, she's worried about me. She looks exhausted, her usually radiant skin paler than I remember, dark circles carved beneath her eyes. And she's too thin - far too thin. Guilt, sharp and raw, slices through me at the sight of her like this, like l've stolen the very life out of her by forcing her to search for me all these months.

I shift, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles, and that tiny movement is enough. Her eyes flutter open almost instantly, as if she's been waiting for any sign of me waking up.

"Xaden," she breathes, her voice raw, relief flooding every syllable.

Before I can even speak, she's reaching for me, hands trembling as she grabs my face and leans close, scanning my eyes like they hold all the answers she needs. Her gaze, usually so piercing, softens with overwhelming relief when she finds nothing but the familiar onyx with gold flecks staring back at her. Her thumb brushes beneath my eye, as if afraid the red might creep back in.

"They're back," she whispers, and it takes me a second to realize she's crying.

I want to tell her I'm sorry. That I never wanted this for her. That I thought leaving would protect her.

But the words get stuck somewhere between my chest and throat, and before I can say anything, she moves - climbing onto the bed without hesitation and burying herself against me, arms wrapping so tightly around my neck I can barely breathe.

"I thought I lost you," she says into my skin, voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what you did. I don't care why you left. You're here now, and you're mine. I'm not letting you go anywhere again."

Her grip tightens, and something in me shatters. I wrap my arms around her, pressing her to me with everything I have, and for the first time in five agonizing months, I let go. The pain, the regret, the fear—I let it all come crashing down, burying my face into her shoulder as I break apart in the only way I know how.

Silent tears spill down my face, and I don't even try to stop them.

"I'm sorry," | rasp against her. "I'm so sorry, Violet. I- I didn't know what else to do. I thought I was protecting you."

"Don’t you dare feel guilty," she murmurs fiercely, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. Her hazel eyes are wet, her lip trembling slightly. "Just promise me you will never leave me alone again."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and as my grip tightens on her waist, my eyes catch something - something that nearly steals my breath. The emerald ring on her finger.

I stare at it, stunned, and realisation dawns like a sunrise after a long, stormy night. She still wears it. She never took it off. My heart stumbles in my chest, and before I can stop myself, my thumb brushes over it, feeling the cool metal against her warm skin.

"You kept it," | murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, I did," she replies softly, tracing her fingers over my jaw. "I didn't forget, Xaden. Even when I didn't remember the ceremony, I knew in my heart."

Emotion wells up again, and for the first time since I put that ring on her finger, it hits me-we're married.

She's my wife. I’m her husband. And despite the rushed, desperate way I made it happen, despite everything I did when we were apart, she's still here.

Still mine.

A shaky breath leaves me, and I press my forehead against hers. "| promise you, Violet. We'll do it right this time. A proper wedding. Everything you deserve."

Her fingers tighten around mine, her lips brushing against my cheek.

"Everything we deserve," she corrects softly. 

I don't deserve her. I never did. But I hold onto her anyway and will keep holding onto her for the rest of our lives, because she's the only thing that's ever truly been mine.

We sit there, holding each other as the weight of the past months slowly lifts off our shoulders. Her hands move through my hair, down my back, soothing away the ache of every wound, every doubt, every longing. 

I'll spend the rest of my life making up for what I did. But right now, in this moment, I just hold her tighter and become hers again. Not that I ever stopped.

”I love you, Violet” 

“I love you more, Xaden”

Before I can protest, she silences me with a kiss that my lips eagerly welcome. 

Chapter Text

XADEN (3 weeks later)

She sleeps so peacefully in my arms, her breath warm against my collarbone, her fingers curled slightly against my chest. I should be sleeping, too, but I can’t. Not when she’s here like this—pressed against me, trusting me even after everything I’ve done, after everything I failed to give her.

My hand trails over the slope of her back, over the thin fabric of her nightgown, as if I can imprint her softness into my skin, as if I can keep her closer than she already is. It’s ridiculous because she is close. She is right here. And yet, the more I hold her, the more I feel like I don’t deserve to.

I don’t know what I did to deserve her. And I don’t mean that in the way people say when they’re lucky. I mean I truly don’t understand how she is still here, still mine, after everything I’ve done - after everything I didn’t do for her.

I never gave her a proper proposal, not the kind she should have had. I had to do it in the aftermath of that battle, in desperation, with blood on my hands darkness in my soul and red rims encroached in the eyes she loves so much. I made her my wife in the most rushed ceremony imaginable, not because she deserved that kind of carelessness but because I was running out of time. And then I left her— alone in Tyrrendor, bearing the weight of my name, of my responsibilities, while I kept myself away, lost in my own self-hatred, my own fear.

She should have had a wedding with flowers, a dress that would make the stars look dull in comparison, instead of the fighting leathers she donned for battle. A grand hall filled with golden light, with music and laughter. A honeymoon, time away with just the two of us, with laughter and stolen kisses under the sun, instead of war and grief. She should have had a husband who could give her everything, not one who only ever seemed to take, who effectively made her a widow.  

Instead, I left. I left because I couldn’t bear for her to see what I had become. I left because I couldn’t stand to look at myself, let alone have her look at me with anything other than love. But she did. She always did. And then she found me. She saved me.

And here she is now, asleep in my arms as if none of that matters.

I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips against the crown of her head, inhaling the faint scent of lightning and wildflowers that always lingers in her hair. My Violet. My light in the storm. My love. My wife.

A lump forms in my throat, thick and suffocating. I dip my head, pressing my lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the curve of her cheek. Kissing her like she’s my salvation - because she is. She saved me in every way a person can be saved, and I still don’t know if I’ll ever be worthy of that kind of devotion. A broken sound nearly escapes me, but I swallow it down, burying my face in her hair instead. I wish I could take back every moment I was away from her. I wish I could give her the world she deserves, the one where she isn’t left managing my responsibilities or fighting for my life alongside her own. She’s given me everything, and I gave her a rushed ceremony and five months of silence.

A soft mumble stirs against my skin, warm and slurred with sleep. “I love you.”

It’s barely more than a breath, an unconscious whisper against my neck, but it shatters me all over again. My chest clenches, my breath catching painfully.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek, unable to stop myself from trailing more kisses over every inch of her skin that I can reach. “I’m sorry,” I breathe against her hair. “I’m so sorry, love.”

I would have given her the world. I should have given her the world. And I gave her nothing but war and pain and loss and anguish.

Sgaeyl rattles in my head, oddly gentle but stern, ‘The Silver One wouldn’t approve of these self loathing thoughts regarding yourself’

Before I can respond, she shifts slightly, sighing, and I freeze, afraid that I’ve woken her. But she only nuzzles deeper against me, as if she knows I need this. As if she always knows.

And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve her. But fuck, I’m never letting her go.

The next morning, I wake to warmth.

Fingers moving through my hair, gentle and soothing, a touch so light I barely register it at first. Then the distinct scent of herbs fills the air, the kind Violet always insists I take to help with my recovery.

My eyes flutter open, vision hazy for a moment before focusing on her. She’s sitting beside me, her legs tucked beneath her, her fingers still running through my hair as she watches me with those sharp, knowing eyes.

“You’re awake,” she murmurs, her voice still soft from sleep.

I hum, leaning into her touch, unable to help myself. “How long have you been up?”

“Long enough to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” she says, her other hand brushing along my arm, checking the muscles, the healing bruises from the Sage. “You need to regain your full strength.”

I catch her hand before she can pull it away, holding it against my chest, over my heart. “And you’re making sure of that?”

She smiles, just slightly. “Who else will?”

I watch her for a moment, soaking her in, the way the morning light catches in her silver-tipped hair, the way she looks at me like I am worth something, despite all the ways I have failed her.

I squeeze her hand. “I’m going to marry you again.”

Her brows pull together slightly, confusion flickering in her expression. “I’m pretty sure we’re already married,” and to further emphasise her point, she flashes her wedding ring - the only gift I was able to give her. 

“Properly,” I say, sitting up fully. “Not in the middle of war, not with rushed vows, not because of desperation. I will give you the wedding you deserve.”

She shakes her head, her fingers tightening around mine. “I don’t need that. I’m already your wife and you’re my husband. I’ve always only wanted you.”

“But you deserve more,” I say, my voice rough. “You deserve everything, Violet. And I will give it to you.”

She watches me, silent for a long moment. Then she smiles, something soft and full of love, and leans in, brushing her lips over mine.

“And after that,” I murmur against her mouth, “I’m taking you away. Somewhere private, where no one can find us.”

She hums, nipping at my bottom lip. “Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

“Good,” she whispers. “Because I’m keeping you all to myself.”

I smile. “Perfect.”