It's Just a Shit Day

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/54640948.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: The Empyrean - Rebecca Yarros
Relationship: Implied Xaden/Violet
Characters: Violet Sorrengail, Andarna (Empyrean), Tairn (Empyrean), Xaden
Riorson, Sgaeyl (Empyrean), Papa Sorrengail in memory
Additional Tags: Short One Shot, Fluff and Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Sad Memories,
Helpful Andarna, Protective Tairn, Understanding Xaden, Book 1:
Fourth Wing (Empyrean)
Language: English
Series: Part 7 of Recovered Correspondence from Cadet Violet Sorrengail
Stats: Published: 2024-03-22 Words: 3,994 Chapters: 1/1
 It's Just a Shit Day
by SowenElf

Summary

“Some days for humans are marked by sad memories,” Tairn explains to Andarna, and Violet
feels the confusion over her deep sadness from the golden bond with the young dragon begin
to ebb. Andarna knows what to do - she'll fix Violet's bad day by making it a good one. Set
during Fourth Wing between the Jack Barlowe fight and the Squad Battle.

Notes

A/N: First: I’m sorry. This was a light-hearted idea, but my brain said “nah” and we dove into
angsty emotionsville. Second: If you wanna hurt yourself like I did, listen to “Fall On Me” by
Great Big World while you read! It’s kind of a trap of feels, which I know because that’s what
I listened to while writing it.

I heart everyone for being so accepting as I dive at breakneck speed into this fandom.
“You are sad,” Andarna’s voice is a soft breeze through my mind, and I realize I’ve let my
shields slip.

“I’m okay.” I promise. “It’s…it’s just a bad day.”

I feel her confusion. “But…it’s a brand new day.”

She’s not wrong, the rays of winter morning sun shoot through my frosted window to dance
across the far wall of my room. I watched it rise, tears streaking down my cheeks to land on
my knees where they’re pulled up to my chest, and I cling to the Fables of the Barrens book,
pressing it as close to my heart as I can while I cry.

“Some days for humans are marked by sad memories,” Tairn explains, and I feel the
confusion from the golden shimmer begin to ebb.

“Oh. Well…we can make new memories. Make this a new day. Dress! Come!”

And then they’re gone. Gods…I don’t want to move. I just want to sit in my heartbreak and
my memories and hide.

But…it would feel so good to hug her warm scales. So I do as she demands and dress.

“Will you come?”

“Yes. I…won’t be good company, though.”

A pulse of happiness from our bond pulls a tilt to my lips, and I wipe at the wet trails on my
cheeks while yanking my hair up into a simple ponytail, not taking the time to braid or pin it.
If it’s in my face it’s in my face. We’re not going to do maneuvers, she just wants to see me.

“Bring me something,” she demands.

Now it’s my turn to be confused. “What? What do you want?”

“Something to share. Your favorite book! You can read that to me and we will share it! Books
make you feel happy.”

I was nearly out the door, pack strapped to my back, when I turned back to where the book
sat on my rumpled, unmade bed. A fresh sheen of tears blurs my vision, but I grab it and slide
it carefully into the pack before making my way out of the room and into the empty, dark,
quiet halls of Basgiath.

My heart is still heavy as I make my way to the flight field, and I can see my massive black
dragon waiting like a stoic, onyx-carved statue. No one else is around, the low temperature
biting into my fingertips since my gloves are still in my jacket pocket. As I get closer, I spot a
bouncing flash of gold running circles around Tairn’s forearms and can’t help but smile
despite everything weighing me down.
“You’re here!” Her boundless joy is for sure the only thing that got me out of my room today.

“I’m here,” I sigh, looking expectantly at my dragons.

“I want to take you somewhere special,” Andarna squeals in delight in my mind, the higher
pitch of her voice offset by the lower rumble of excitement that erupts from her chest. “Did
you bring it?”

I nod and pat the bottom of the pack strapped tightly to my back.

Tairn lowers his arm in invitation, and unlike every time during flight maneuvers, he
launches straight and soft without crazy banks, dips, and turns.

“So you can fly straight,” I chide and feel a warm, protective hum of energy from him.

“A reprieve, for this is not training. This is…necessity.”

Andarna has a different view. “This is for fun!”

We fly away from Basgiath to the east, past craggy mountain peaks and above piles of wind-
drifted snow, but the closer we get to the Vale, the snow gives way to grass a green as spring,
flowering trees, and warm air that makes me immediately want to undo the buttons of my fur-
lined flight jacket.

The one consolation is that with the wind rushing by and me leaving my flight goggles in my
bag, the tears dry near instantly on my cheeks. I sit back, hands off the pommels, and let my
arms hang loose as I close my eyes and tilt up to the sun, and a sigh pulls from my chest as I
begin to relax.

At least…until I realize the direction we’re still headed.

Panic hits me. “We’re not allowed in the Vale.”

Tairn tisks deep in his throat and in my mind, “are you suggesting I do not know our rules?
We will not enter the Vale, simply skirt along the edge of it.”

And we do - miles before entering we turn to the north where a deep valley fed by a crystal
clear blue stream sits between two hills, and he slows. Andarna lands with a tumble and roll
in the tall grass before popping up and bouncing from paw to paw while I dismount.

It’s…beautiful. Beyond beautiful.

This edge of the Vale is surrounded by wintery peaks, but you’d think it was summer down
here. I yank the jacket off, the buttons of the uniform underneath next until a cool breeze hits
my skin.

“Come, come!” The golden one cheers and I decide to just pull the uniform off and go in my
armor, my bare arms soaking in the warmth of the sunshine as I follow Andarna’s wandering
and aimless circular path, my hands skimming the soft, puffy tops of the wild grasses that
come up to my waist.
Splashes of gold, pink, purple, and orange peek out as wildflowers scatter every which way,
and I pluck a few, beginning to loop them together absentmindedly as my heart lightens at the
sight of my little metallic dragon bounding and snapping at butterflies.

Over the next hour I learn something very important. Andarna can’t bear me as a rider simply
because of her wings - but she can absolutely bear me in a full-tilt gallop across a sloped,
hilly valley. The deer we chased weren’t as thrilled.

Once we were both winded and she began to tire, I hop off to cup my hand and drink from
the glacial waters of the stream that flows from the mountain peaks above, and it’s crisp,
delicious, and refreshing.

We walk slowly back through the valley, my fingers diligently weaving the stems of the
various flowers together in a motion I haven’t done since Mira and I were younger, and I’m
again lost in memories that keep rising and ebbing like waves on the sandy beach of my
mind.

“What are you doing?” Andarna’s curious nose pokes into the floral arrangement, and my
smile is just for her as I tie the end off before settling the crown of flowers atop her head,
tucking them around the hornlets and scales. I feel her gasp and I get dizzy as her power
surges slightly while she borrows my vision to see what I’d made for her.

“You too!” She prances in a circle, head held high, and I agree quickly, pulling the cord from
the ponytail to leave my hair loose around my shoulders.

Once we have matching flower crowns she demands that Tairn tells us how lovely we look,
which he does begrudgingly. “You appear…decorated adequately for high human
standards.”

I scoff but Andarna beams, so I guess that’s a high compliment in dragon terms.

“Can we read it now?”

The pang of sorrow knocks at my heart as if it needed to remind me that it hadn’t gone too
far, but it’s lighter than it was this morning.

“Of course,” I say, and come back to Tairn’s side.

His black scales shimmer in the overhead sun, and he’s resting with his massive clawed
forearms stretched in front of his body. Said body is twisted slightly to allow his back legs to
stick out to one side while his wings flop to the opposite, folded slightly and resting in the
grass. He sits so still, his head held in a high S-shape with eyes closed that I genuinely think
he’s sleeping if the deep, rumbling breaths coming from his chest are any indication.

“Not sleeping, Silver One. I’m ready if any danger were to arrive, do not worry.”

I grab my pack and flop into the grass matted down by Tairn’s stomps and Andarna comes to
rest behind me, flopping to her side in almost the same position as the black morningstartail
beside us, her wings draping over his forearm. I see his gigantic tail move to encircle our
little chosen resting spot and know he wasn’t bluffing when he said he was ready for any
danger.

My fingers feel the worn book and I pull the book of fables from my pack, tears springing
easily to my eyes, and I can’t help but brush my fingers lovingly over the cover.

“Are you interested in human fables?” I ask as I shove the emotion as down as I can.

“No. I just wanted to know what your favorite book was because you love books so much.”

A lump forms in my throat and I caress the spot under her chin that makes her rumble from
her chest, this time no different as everything I lean against vibrates down to my bones. I tip
back to pillow my head on her side, pulling my hair off to one side of my shoulder as silvery
threads get stuck between her golden scales. Once settled, her head over my shoulder
watching with bright eyes, I read aloud the Fables of the Barrens to my young dragon.

By the time I get to the end my voice is breaking, and Andarna’s head is resting across my
stomach, her body wrapped around mine as soft snores lift my torso in a steady rhythm.
Closing the book and letting it fall against my chest, I’m dragged backward into memories
that this day brings far too close to the surface. Far too easy to access.

Back to how many times my father had been just like this with me as a little girl. I’d beg him
to read it again and again, his deep voice so soothing as the roaring fireplace crackled in time
with the story beats.

I woke every time he scooped me up to carry me to my room, and every time I would pretend
to still be asleep so I could relish in those soft moments where he would tuck me into bed.
That loss stabs fresh and new and constricts my heart, and I can almost feel him brush the
hair off my forehead before bringing the blankets up under my chin, a whisper of “sleep
sweet, little Violet,” on his lips.

Every step I’ve taken this last year has been farther away from him. My armoire is filled with
rider black, not the cream-colored robes of the scribes. My bookshelf is embarrassingly bare
of anything other than textbooks for the classes I’m taking. My life is so…different than he
had planned - than we had planned.

He would be so disappointed.

A soft rush of warm air ruffles the loose hair and crown of flowers at the top of my head, and
I’m pulled back to here and now as anxiety bubbles low in my stomach. I angle up to see the
massive scaled snout just above my head, another soft breath brushes across my forehead.

“You have this worry over and over again, Silver One. I do not think that your father would
be upset of the rider you are becoming. He would be proud…as I am.”

The sting of tears bites my eyes, and I reach my hand up to set my palm against his chin.

“Thanks,” my watery voice is soft and we lapse back into peaceful silence. The tears track
down to my jaw, the warm sun drying the trails onto my skin.
“Sgaeyl comes, likely curious why we are so far away from Basgiath. Do not be worried. She
understands these days.”

Because Xaden has one too.

Moments later I hear the wingbeats I’m starting to recognize. Tairn lifts his head to chuff a
greeting, and I wonder if it’s anything like how Dad would greet Mom when she came home
from an assignment. His deep baritone filled the house with warmth and he’d cup her cheek
and press a kiss to her forehead saying, “I’m glad you’re well, my love”.

The tingle I feel at the base of my skull notifies me that it’s not just Sgaeyl who has arrived,
and I work at putting my emotions back in place and lifting my shields, but I doubt I’ll be
able to hide it well enough.

Maybe I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he calls moments after the navy blue daggertail lands beside her mate, and I feel the
thud through the earth when she settles down in the same comfortable pose to form the other
side of the circle that her mate started. I guess that’s just how dragons relax.

Professor Kaori would kill for this view, I bet not many people have seen dragons just…hang
out.

I lift my finger to my lips with one hand, the other pointing down to Andarna where she
sleeps coiled around me, head on top of my stomach. His eyes take me in from top to bottom,
prompting me to roll mine before gesturing at the armor.

He snaps back up and nods, “good. Yeah, that’s - good. Why are you out this far?”

“Andarna wanted to bring me here.” Damnit, my voice sounds as emotional as I feel.

Blessedly, he doesn’t ask, but I see something in him that I haven’t seen before: unsurety.
“Oh,” he says. “Do you…want us to leave?”

I know he saw the tears, I know he could hear the strain in my voice, I’m not that stupid and
he’s too damn observant. I’ll thank him later for ignoring it. Probably.

Sgaeyl answers with a deep annoyed rumble, and when I look up I can see her in the same
resting pose as Tairn, her nose fitting perfectly underneath his chin as they sit basking in the
sun with their golden eyes shut.

I shrug lightly, “looks like you’re stuck.”

Lifting the book from my chest I start from the beginning, only darting my eyes over to him
as he peels off his flight jacket and uniform down to the tee underneath just like I had.
Settling into the grass he hooks his arms around his knees and pulls at some, ripping the
blades into tiny pieces while his onyx eyes study the valley. Moments later he sighs.

“What - uh - what are you reading?” It’s as soft as his voice has ever been.
I look over to see him staring over at me and decide on honesty. “A book my dad gave me.”

“Ah,” is all he says.

I know he knows how I feel - how it feels to lose a parent - but I don’t want someone to
commiserate with. I just want to survive the day and move to tomorrow. The only sounds for
the next ten minutes are the turning of the pages and the occasional rustle from a very bored
Xaden.

Sgaeyl softly chuffs down at him, the blast of air ruffling his hair, and the look on his face is
one of apology so it must have been a chastise. Despite that, she moves her wickedly-sharp
taloned hand in his direction and he grins, sliding back in the grass until he nearly disappears
between her spread digits to lean back and rest against the webbed skin in between her toes.

I don’t feel the book slide from my hands to land open across my chest, nor do I remember
falling asleep, but the soft touch of calloused fingers against my cheek wakes me to the sun
low in the sky and Xaden’s gold-flecked eyes above me. As I move to sit up, he catches the
book before it can fall, and almost reverently he fixes the oddly folded pages before closing
and palming it.

Andarna wakes as well, a massive yawn nearly unhinging her jaw as her serpentine tongue
lolls to drag across her glistening, sharp teeth, and Xaden takes a step back just in case. She
fixes him with tired gold eyes before pressing her nose into his chest and chuffing. It’s his
turn to scratch at the scales of her chin as a genuine smile hits his mouth.

“I like the way the wingleader smells,” she says, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Me too,” I admit to her because I can.

I stretch and roll my shoulders in an attempt to fix the kink in my neck after apparently
napping for several hours using a dragon as a pillow, and Xaden extends a hand to help me
up.

“What time is it?”

“After four - I figured we should get back before they think we’ve deserted.”

“Did…did you sit here for five hours? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He shrugs, and makes his way to where his pile of shed cloths sits next to mine. “Maybe I
slept too.”

I call his bluff. “Did you?”

“No,” he says and I can see the honesty on his face as he separates my smaller jacket from
his. He fists them before heading back my way, and I can feel his eyes on me as I pull the
uniform on first, buttoning it as I drag my hair out from behind the fabric. I gather it back up
into a half-assed ponytail, my vibe for today I guess, and the crown of flowers falls apart to
land at my feet.
Yeah, me too, flowers.

Slowly, I accept the flight jacket from him.

“Thanks.”

His grin is there but it lacks all of the bite I’m used to seeing there. Maybe it’s because we’re
not in Basgiath and there aren’t any eyes to see the lack of cold indifference that usually
emanates from his…everything.

“Flying helps me too. I’m…I’m sorry, Violet.”

Maybe it’s because he knows exactly how I feel.

What emotion I’d just gotten back under control rushes against the roof of my mouth and
clogs the back of my throat. My vision blurs and I engage in the nervous tick of biting at the
inside left of my lower lip, but I nod.

Gods I want him to hug me.

I can’t help but think the thought as the fat droplet hovering on my lower eyelid lets go, the
weight of my sorrow pushing it from its perch to scatter on my cheekbone.

He catches it with his thumb as he reaches to cup the side of my jaw, and a moment later he
tugs me into the circle of his arms. My own lift to cling behind him, fingers splaying and
clutching the soft fabric of his shirt, and I feel his chin hit the top of my head while his other
hand is a spreading warmth against the small of my back.

I let go and wet his shirt with my tears.

Moments crawl by and I’m filled with an overwhelming amount of emotions, but through it
all, he’s steady as a rock - unmoving - and the consistent pressure against my back directly
contrasts the way his thumb brushes my cheek to catch every. Single. Tear.

I pull away first, a broken, “thanks,” on my lips, and I feel the ground shake as our two
dragons rise to all fours in preparation for our departure. I could stay in his arms forever, but I
know that’s not realistic. As nice as Violet and Xaden sounds, we have to go back to being
Sorrengail and Riorson.

I press a kiss to Andarna’s nose, “thank you.”

“You’re still sad.” She sounds as if she failed and I can see the droop of her wings and tail.

I cup her chin and lift her head back to mine, “you made it so much better. Trust me. Thank
you for the new memories .”

Reluctantly, and only after a disciplinary chuff from Tairn, she flares her golden wings and
launches, her path heading south and then west as she makes for the Vale. From the corner of
my eye I see Xaden mount Sgaeyl with practiced ease, and a large, long black foreleg lands
in front of me.
The ride back is slow, for Tairn, and silent. However, when I ground with both feet into the
Archives of my mind in an attempt to center before getting back to the throngs of students I’ll
have to navigate on my way to my room, I feel overly full but can’t pinpoint why. Today is
always a day that showcases the emptiness in my life, the…lack of fullness that I hide and
ignore the other 364 days of the year. I can feel different pulses of emotions coming from the
different strands in my mind contributing to the feeling, so I follow the strands.

The most powerful is, of course, Tairn, and it’s still that same, steady, gentle, protective hum
that I’ve felt all day.

Andarna’s is quiet since we’re flying away from her, but it’s still flutters of happiness and
peace.

I close my eyes and focus, trusting Tairn to not dump me off with a sudden tip. Turning the
corner of a massive multistory case of tomes, the door that I avoid as often as possible pulses
with a soft blue energy. It’s not…power. I don’t channel from Sgaeyl. I do, however, have a
connection with her mind, and the feeling she’s sending me is…motherly.

Separate from all of those is something I haven’t felt before within my Archives. Adjacent to
Sgaeyl’s door is a shimmering flickering tendril of sparkling wispy shadow, and the gentle
caress I feel from it settles against the back of my head where Xaden had cupped the night he
kissed me. As it floats by, it touches the top of my cheek where his thumb had brushed away
my tears and I swear I can feel it all as if it were real.

‘Whatever you create in your mind is real to you,’ he’d said the night I’d began channeling.
That’s all this must be - something I’ve created in my Archives. Something I needed.

I feel the shift in altitude and know we’re landing, so I slip back from my grounding and the
shadowy lines disappear, reinforcing my assumption that they were a construct.

We land quietly and I dismount, Tairn drooping his head until the massive scale beneath his
chin gently touches the top of my head, a rumble in his chest thrumming in time with my
beating heart as he comforts me in his own language.

The frosty air pulls the breath from my lungs in tufts of white, billowing steam, and I feel the
air rush frigidly against my body as he launches. Sgaeyl follows and the pair falls into
tandem wingbeats headed toward the Vale.

Only when I feel Xaden’s hand at the small of my back do I turn and head back to the
college. He’s my silent shadow, and I’m fucking exhausted despite the fact that it’s not even
dark yet. Muscle memory leads me to the dorms where, thankfully, I haven’t been stopped or
talked to by a single cadet.

Odds are it’s because of the glares that my shadow has no doubt been hurling as I did spot
Ridoc and Sawyer on approach, their smiles dying as both held up their hands defensively
before spinning on their heels in the opposite direction. I’m too tired to reassure them and
keep my trudging rhythm up the steps until I’m somehow, finally, at the door of my room.
I turn to Xaden and see one hand holding the strap of his pack as the other twirls a small
purple flower from the valley between his fingers.

“Thanks for the escort,” I whisper, my voice scratchy to my ears.

He nods and reaches out, fingers tucking the flower behind my ear, and I don’t stop the soft
smile as I watch his retreating back.

…
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