Sep. 7th, 2018

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Title: Musings of a witch, rise of a demon
Rating: PG
Prompt: 1, Destroying things is much easier than making them
Fandom/Series: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Word Count: 877
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary: All I wanted was for her to be safe. All I wanted was for her to live. So, I kept trying time and time again. In the end, the only way I could save her was to destroy everything and make her mine forever.

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Musings of a witch, rise of a demon

When we first met, I was a new student and you were the infirmary officer. You were incredibly kind and helpful towards such a sickly and useless person like me. For the first time in ages; I felt welcomed and secure in the sea of unfamiliar faces in a foreign place. I remember thinking wouldn’t it be nice if we could be together for a long time perhaps forever… But fate wouldn’t even let me have that.

It was by chance that I learnt about magical girls and their mission to defeat witches after you had saved me from one. I wouldn’t lie that I was tempted. I had witnessed your battles and I craved to become like you… Confidant, cheerful, cool. Everything that I wasn’t and wanted. Yet I was a coward… I fear fighting witches and I was ashamed by my indecisiveness. Despite that; you told me that it was alright and to take my time to decide.

I did, didn’t I…? I took so much time even right up to that fateful Walpurgis night that took away your life. Seeing your lifeless body, I felt my world crash and disappear around me. Nothing remained but hopelessness and despair. It’s ironic isn’t it…? It was only when you were gone that I found the one wish that I would sacrifice my soul for. To become strong enough to protect you, my dearest friend.

To see your smile, to hear your voice and to be with you again… I would do anything! For that one wish, I became a Magica Puella. I went back countless times to see you again, to protect your smile and rescue you from the impending tragedies that come fourth. It was so painful with each and every time leap... Every single time I went back; you would never know me because you had not ever met me. Every time I went back, I failed to protect you from realizing the horrors of becoming a magical girl. Every time I went back, I couldn’t stop the Walpurgis night and watch you once again being forced to become a Magica Puella and eventually becoming a corrupted witch. Yet I continued on, jumping through each and every timeline holding onto that one speck of hope that I could save you with or without your friends. When I finally reached a timeline where I almost succeeded; I could only watch on helplessly as you form a contract before me; leaving me alone on this very earth. An earth where no one remembered you… A world where you have never existed to anyone except me.

Why…? Why did you do it!? It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t live in this world, in this town that you loved so much… It wasn’t fair that you had to give up everything to save a world that is a lost cause…! A world without you is…is…

Yet… I continued protecting this world and the town that you loved so much because I could still feel you so close to me, whispering encouragement in my ears when I felt my hope slowly and surely fading away while corruption ate away at my soul. Even till the very end, I truly believed that you were finally safe from all harm’s way.

Alas, I was wrong. Those sick incubators wanted to confirm your existence and they used the one thing left to do it… My own corrupted soul… Why…? Why…? Why is it after everything I had went through and it still wasn’t enough to keep you safe!? Was everything useless right up to the very end? After all the deaths, anguish and pain just for me to become an accursed witch and become an energy source for those wretched incubators...?  

Ah… I see now… It was impossible from the very beginning wasn’t it…? From the moment that we met, our fates were never meant to be. I should have realised during every time leap, that everything was unavoidable. That there was no way I could steer fate to be with you. That’s right… I remember now… I wanted to be strong enough to protect you so that we could be together forever…! Why was I so foolishly satisfied with this outcome where I couldn’t be with you to keep you safe…? Why did I let you remain in a world that would constantly place you in danger…?

If that’s the case, I will destroy everything around me. I will shred apart this world, this cycle and all of the incubators until there is nothing left that can hurt you. If I’m fated to become a witch then let me curse this land, the gods and this fate that drove us apart. If I have to… I will even become a demon in order to protect you, my precious and dearest one…

I promised to have hope, but it has failed me for far too long. The path of destruction is the only way for me no…for us to be together. As I ruthlessly held onto you, hearing your screams as I shred apart the law that you created. There was no remorse only joy as I finally achieved what I had wanted all this time…

We are finally together, forever… Madoka.

The end

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TITLE: i never wanted to need someone
RATING: PG
PROMPT: "I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying." -Michael Jordan
FANDOM/SERIES: Granblue Fantasy
WORD COUNT: 3,978
DISCLAIMER:  I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
SUMMARY: Princess Societte can't - doesn't want to - imagine the rest of her life spent with a stranger that's sure to be dull.

What she isn't expecting is a girl like fire to blow through her doors and integrate seamlessly into her life until Societte can't imagine life without her.

i never wanted to need someone


When she is age five and learning how to read, Societte is fed on a steady diet of stories.

 

Most of them are fantastical, involving dragons and knights and magic that favors those who win a battle. Societte listens and is captivated by tales of princesses who are strong and capable and do the rescuing instead of being the ones needing rescuing.

 

She falls a little in love with those princesses with every new story that she hears. Someday, Societte thinks, she's going to be one of them.

 

Evelyn simply smiles at her daughter whenever she makes such proclamations. They're made from pure childhood innocence, and who is she to discourage such things?

 

When Societte is ten and has devoured every tale available to her, she begins to realize that being a queen will not necessarily be as exciting as she's been led to believe.

 

Her father begins to teach her how to run a country, and while Societte can't say that she dislikes it, it's much duller than she expected it to be. "Father," she asks one time, tugging on a sleeve of his robes to get his attention, "why do we have to do so many things?"

 

"Because, sweetie, we don't want ordinary people to worry about these sorts of things. That's what being a ruler is about, yes?"

 

Societte nods, but then she looks up to really see her father and takes in the grey hairs, the wrinkles, and the tiredness in his eyes. "But it looks so hard, Father. Can I really do it?"

 

Alastair laughs (but it's a sad sort of sound, Societte can tell) and picks his daughter up. "Of course you can. You're more capable than you think you are, and I wouldn't want anyone else running this country after me and your mother. I'm only sad that I can't give you any other choices."

 

"I'll be alright!" Societte beams. She's still a kid, she can't deny that not being able to be just like her childhood heroes is a little disappointing, but the relief and the small smile on Alastair's face is worth it. "You'll teach me everything?"

 

"Of course I will. I'll be able to help you every step of the way."

 

 


 

 

True to his word, Alastair makes sure that either he or his wife is always there to ease Societte into her future royal duties. Evelyn brings Societte to her first meeting when she's thirteen and sits her in the back, where Societte nearly falls asleep listening to old men arguing over one financial issue or another. Alastair starts taking Societte on cross-country trips with him when she turns fourteen, where she enjoys the company of people her age that the public would approve of.

 

When Societte turns seventeen, she first begins to hear about marriage and she panicks.

 

"Societte, remember what I told you before?" Alastair tries to calm her. "I did say that I was going to help you every step of the way. This is no exception."

 

"Yes," Societte says, sounding confident but extremely lost.

 

"It won't be so bad!" Evelyn chimes in. "Me and your father were an arranged marriage, and we've turned out fine, if I do say so myself."

 

"Yes," Societte says, sounding less confident and still extremely lost.

 

Alastair smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "I give you my word as a king and as your father that everything will be absolutely fine. And if not, well…"

 

He trails off, unsure, before brightening back up. "We'll find another way. We're not the rulers of this country for nothing, yes?"

 

"Yes," Societte repeats one more time, before involuntarily letting out a yawn that she had been holding in for the duration of the impromptu meeting. "Can I...can I go to bed now?"

 

"Of course you can, we've kept you awake long enough. And don't worry about a thing, okay? Let us do the worrying for you. Or, well, most of the worrying. Okay?"

 

"M'kay, good night."

 

One last yawn, and Societte retreats back towards her room, anxiety allayed enough to allow her to drift into a dreamless sleep. Alastair and Evelyn stay up a little while longer, preparing letters to be sent out the next day before turning out all the lights and going to bed themselves.

 

(The next morning, Societte wakes up in another panic - in worrying about her future, she had completely forgotten about her imminent doom. And as much as her tutor loves Societte, she doesn't think that failing to pass yet another history exam will endear herself any more to her teacher.

 

The issue of marriage completely slips Societte's mind when she has to sit through nearly an hour of disappointed teacher mumblings and convince her that it'll never happen again, promise.)

 

 


 

 

One by one, over the course of a month, the letters start to come in. Some of them are polite refusals, stating that their heir already has a marriage planned or is currently too occupied with other matters to deal with anything else at the moment. Some have a tinge of regret to them, saying something along the lines of "wish we could help, send us an invitation to the wedding!"

 

However good the intentions are, though, one thing is becoming very clear - the royal family is running out of time and options fast.

 

"What we think will work," Evelyn presents to Societte one day over breakfast, "is we pick one of your father's best knights. You don't have to do this, we'll make sure to cancel all the plans if you don't want to go through with them. But if you're willing to give this a chance, I'll bring her over during lunch so you two can get to know each other."

 

"O-Okay," Societte speaks through her half-asleep state. Then it hits her, halfway through a bite of egg, and she nearly drops her fork in surprise.

 

"Her?" she blurts out. "It's - um, it's a girl?"

 

"Er…yes?"

 

Evelyn shoots Alastair a look over the table, as if to say See? I told you we should have asked first. "I hope that you don't mind...she's one of our best, physically and morally - "

 

"I! Don't mind at all, I'd love to…meet her…"

 

Societte trails off, but her parents continue to look at her until she mutters "better than marrying a wrinkly old man."

 

That sets everyone off in hearty laughter. "Better not let the other princes hear that," Alistair wheezes out - "oh, but I'll set everything up, you just need to be back here for lunch."

 

"M'kay!" Societte manages between bites of her previously forgotten egg. "I'll try not to be late."

 

 


 

 

Societte is, in fact, horrifyingly early.

 

Her nerves convince her that it's better to sit in front of the dining hall for half an hour than risk a last minute duty or two taking up her time. Then they switch to worrying about whether or not there's something urgent that Societte should be doing, then to wondering if she's late after all, because there's pacing noises coming from inside the room…?

 

Or, she shudders, it might be someone dangerous.

 

Oh, she hates this, but this is all part of being a better ruler, right?

 

Right.

 

Societte takes a few deep breaths, then flings a door open and draws a dagger from her undergarments. "Excuse me," she says, hoping to every deity she can think of that her voice isn't trembling, "but I'm afraid you're not supposed to be - "

 

She locks eyes with another girl. She looks around Societte's age; long dark hair, light armor, rather beautiful face frozen in an expression of shock at Societte ready to hurl a weapon at her chest.

 

"Oh, sh - uh," she stutters. "You the princess?"

 

All that Societte can do is blink. "I - I am? Are you the knight?"

 

"Yeah, that's me" is all that the other girl can get out before she doubles over in laughter.

 

"So sorry," she wheezes, "this is just so surreal, you don't even know my name yet and we're supposed to be married in, like, four months, and then you nearly attack me. It's - oh man - it's Yuel, by the way. My name."

 

"I'm Societte…but I guess you knew that already, huh."

 

"Aw, I don't mind you telling me again! 'S like the normal dating process, where you get to know the other person and decide whether you like 'em or not."

 

The only thing that manages to do is bring an awkward silence over the room.

 

"Which reminds me, I can't believe I'm asking this when we've only been talking for a few minutes, but do you like me? Doesn't have to be romantic in any way, but I'm not about to let the princess of this country do something that she doesn't want to."

 

A bemused smile crosses Societte's face. "I don't...hate you, if that's what you mean. But, um, what do you mean about not making me…?"

 

"You're kidding me." Yuel outright stares at Societte, not caring anymore if it comes off as rude.

 

Societte shrinks back into herself, shaking her head rapidly.

 

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, I was told that you're not great with strangers but I didn't think before I - "

 

Yuel rubs her eyes hard, then grins sheepishly. "Lemme try that again. You've got your own reasons for this sort of thing, right? If ya don't mind, I'd love to hear some of those."

 

Unable to think of anything self-demeaning for once in her life, Societte can only gape at Yuel. Yuel blinks back, unaware of the mess inside Societte's head. "Uh, did I say something wrong?" she squeaks out. "I thought I was good at this sort of thing, but apparently not."

 

"We're both terrible at this," Societte says so mournfully and with such a straight face that all it takes is one glance from Yuel for them both burst out in laughter.

 

Societte stops laughing last and raises her head. Yuel is looking at her so earnestly, with a toothy grin on her face and and eyes shining so brightly that it's suddenly hard for Societte to breathe. "Mother and Father gave me an option," she mumbles, dropping her head so her gaze is pointed towards the ground. "I can marry or not, it would be my own choice. But it's for the good of the country, isn't it? I really would like for us to have peace, and happiness, and...all of those storybook-kingdom-sounding things. But I can't do it on my own, and I don't know how i feel about anyone else running the country."

 

Making a small noise in the back of her throat, Yuel nods sagely. "Can't say I understand your exact situation, but I think I get it. It's like me 'n King Alastair; I'm one of his personal guards, but sometimes he wants to use someone else for a task. Which is fine, I mean, he can do what he wants, y'know? But I feel sorta anxious with his life in someone else's hands."

 

"Yes, that's - that's exactly how I feel!" Societte exclaims, excitement entering her voice for the first time today. Too late, she realizes her slip-up and slaps a hand over her own mouth, but Yuel is there to gently pry it away (and then lets go in embarrassment).

 

"Ya don't have to restrain yourself around me. I'm constantly over-energetic anyway, at least that's what everyone else in my unit tells me, so don't worry about comin' off too strong!"

 

"Thanks, really. It's...maybe too soon to tell, but I feel...nice around you. That's what I think of you right now, um, to answer your previous question."

 

"Oh!" Yuel's face lights up and she beams at Societte. "I think you're a really good friend too, so I'll make ya a deal of sorts, okay?"

 

That catches Societte off-guard. "...Sure? What is it?"

 

Yuel leans in conspiratorially - Societte can't help but mirror her motions. "I'm thinking, you give me a month. I court you, do all those things that people do when they're dating. Then when the month's up, if ya don't feel like I'm the kind of person you could spend the rest of your life with, call off the engagement."

 

Whatever Societte was expecting, that was not it. "B-but," she stammers, eyes widening, "what about - "

 

"Aw, don't think about what anyone else is gonna say. King - uh, your dad told you that you have a choice, right? That definitely means that he trusts your judgement, and he's got somethin' up his sleeve no matter what you choose. So don't stress over it too much, just go by your instincts. Promise?"

 

Yuel sticks out her pinky finger.

 

Societte stares at it, half wanting to giggle at the childish innocence of the action, half wanting to truly let go of her inhibitions like Yuel had suggested that she do. She hesitantly reaches out her own pinky, linking it with Yuel's, and shakes their hands once.

 

"Then," she says quietly, "how about we start with...lunch? I'm starting to feel hungry."

 

"Thought you'd never ask!" Yuel laughs. "I'm feelin' starved too."

 

She skips off towards the opposite end of the table from Societte's chair, but this time Societte is the one who reaches out to stop her. "Wait, please," she speaks haltingly, and tugs Yuel's arm once. "I want...could you sit next to me? It's easier to talk to you that way."

 

Yuel's smile grows even bigger, something that Societte didn't even know was possible. She follows Societte's lead without further prompting, bouncing like an overeager puppy in her excitement.

 

"Anything for you, princess!"

 

 


 

The first thing that Societte discovers from spending time with Yuel is that it makes her ridiculously happy when the other girl greets her in the morning.

 

She's managed to convince her parents to not go public with any announcements yet, not until she's gotten to know Yuel better. Her and Yuel's little deal is still a secret, and the logic holds up in the face of scrutiny, so for now, Yuel remains a friend in the public eye.

 

A friend. A friend that she spends almost all of her free time with. A friend that, frankly, Societte may have developed a tiny crush on, but she has no idea how to approach the subject at all.

 

...She's fine with just continuing their nightly talks over a plate of midnight snacks. Yuel was the one who started them, barging into Societte's room one day and whining about not being able to sleep. Which she regretted almost immediately, seeing how startled Societte was at her sudden unannounced entrance, leading to a good ten minutes being dedicated to apologies and you don't need to apologize, honest, and I need to stop coming a centimeter from stabbing you in the heart.

 

It's the perfect way to wind down after a long and stressful day, and Societte wonders why she didn't do this before. Yuel talks about dumb things that happen during training (someone accidentally making a hole in a stone wall, for example). Societte complains about her ever-increasing list of royal duties, the towering stack of paperwork assigned by Alastair on her desk, the not-quite-mandatory meetings full of stubborn old men that she really, really does not want to deal with.

 

"Hell, all this political stuff sounds tiring. Don't you ever wish you could leave it all?" Yuel sighs one day, flopping dramatically onto Societte's bed.

 

Societte just shrugs as best as she can and buries her head into Yuel's lap.

 

"I chose this, so I don't mind terribly. But dealing with so many different people in just one day…"

 

She lets out a long yawn appropriate to the conversation. Yuel laughs and sits back up to play with Societte's hair.

 

"Now that ya mention it, I should probably be going soon. Gotta get that beauty sleep, yeah?"

 

"Mmm," Societte agrees half-heartedly, but doesn't show any intention of moving from her current spot.

 

"I mean it!"

 

"Mmmmmm. What if I don't want to?"

 

Yuel sticks out her tongue but doesn't attempt to do anything more. "You're spoiled, that's what you are."

 

"Aren't you the one who spoils me?"

 

"Aw, heck."

 

Face delightfully red, Yuel turns to face the door and all Societte can do is giggle. "Oh, but in all seriousness, can you... do me a favor?"

 

"Huh? 'Course I can, what d'you need?"

 

"W-Well, there's a ball coming up that Father's hosting to celebrate the anniversary of the kingdom's foundation, and...I have to go, but I go every year. It really isn't too big of a deal. But every year, Mother allows me to bring a plus one. And I was...was thinking…"

 

Just say it, Societte's consciousness screams at her, but her mouth seems to be physically frozen in place.

 

"You were thinking…?" Yuel prompts, head cocked to one side in mild curiosity. "But hey, ya haven't been this nervous around me in a really long time. If ya don't want to say it, don't push yourself."

 

"No, I want to do this," Societte blurts out. She watches Yuel raise an eyebrow at her in doubt, then exhales loudly once and tries again.

 

"I was thinking...do you want to be my plus one? It...It'll be fun, and I think I might actually be...lonely without you there."

 

"Oh," Yuel says, face turning an even brighter shade of red. "I dunno, I don't mind goin' with you, but...ya don't care what anyone else is gonna say when they see me there?"

 

"Hey. You were the one who told me not to care, weren't you?"

 

"You're right, I did, I'm proud of you. Look at ya, using my own words against me!"

 

And in one swift move, Yuel's kneeling down on the floor and taking one of Societte's hands in her own, pressing a swift kiss onto her knuckles and standing up as if nothing had happened. Societte's eyes snap up, but Yuel is already looking away from her and on her way out the door.

 

"Anything for you, princess."

 

 


 

 

The days fly by in an flurry of anxiety and far too many outfit preparations, and the ball arrives with disappointingly little fanfare.

 

Societte tugs on the collar of her dress, wondering if it's physically possible for it to get even lower than it already is. "Isn't this...a little excessive?" she whispers. "I'm not, um, trying to seduce anyone…"

 

"Oh, honey," is all that she gets in response from Evelyn. Her mother - her own mother - winks at her and nudges her lightly, mouthing go get 'em before exiting the room to do some of her own preparations before the event starts.

 

Societte thinks that she dies a little on the inside.

 

A little voice pipes up from behind Societte, and she's very suddenly reminded that there is, in fact, someone else in the room. "I," Lyria, her handmaiden, says hesitantly, "can fix that if you want? I don't think you need to seduce anyone...Yuel's really nice, she already loves you, she won't care about a thing like this."

 

"I know that, but that just makes it worse."

 

Holding her head in her hands, Societte moans in despair - then something in her brain clicks, and her head flies back up.

 

"Wait. Could you...could you repeat that?"

 

"Uh?" Lyria blinks rapidly. "I can fix your dress? Yuel's really nice? She loves you - "

 

"She does?"

 

"It's...I hate to say this, I really do, but it's a little obvious? You two aren't...exactly...subtle."

 

"She…"

 

Patting down her neckline, Societte straightens her back with new resolve. "I...I'll leave it like this. I have something...important to do tonight."

 

"Oh? O-Oh!"

 

Lyria's eyes sparkle as she jumps up from her previous position and patters over to Societte. She squeezes her around the torso in an almost breathtaking hug, being careful not to ruin the dress; Societte allows this one hug to fill her up with all of the confidence that she knows she's going to need tonight.

 

"You're going to do great," Lyria assures her.

 

"I sure hope so," Societte replies shakily, allowing herself to stop and give Lyria one last headpat.

 

She exhales loudly.

 

Turns around.

 

Walks out of the room, into the hallway, and towards her certain doom.

 

The classical music that's playing almost (almost) makes Societte want to scream, but she doesn't. Tonight, she acts as a proper princess should - back ramrod straight; taking small, gliding steps; quietly and demurely making her way towards the ballroom.

 

Yuel is there already, waiting for her, and it shouldn't surprise Societte as much as it does because they had already agreed upon this beforehand. But there's something about the way that Yuel wears her simple, almost minimalistic black sheath dress - something about the way that the fur lining of it curls almost invitingly along her neck - that makes her seem like a blazing fire, and that sets Societte herself on fire and gives her the courage to take Yuel's offered arm.

 

She doesn't miss the quick once-over that she's given, nor the lingering gaze on her neckline.

 

"Um," Yuel says thickly, struggling to get the words out. "May I have this dance?"

 

"You certainly may," Societte laughs before spinning them both into orbit and joining the clusters of couples already occupying the dance floor.

 

They spend some moments purely enjoying the action of dancing with each other, holding each other close  and twirling their way across the floor. Yuel dips Societte once, completely out of the blue, and Societte comes up laughing before she remembers what, exactly, she was planning to do.

 

She leans in close - closer - until her lips are barely touching Yuel's left ear, and whispers "it's been a month, hasn't it?"

 

Yuel goes through a myriad of expressions in just a few seconds. Confused, understanding, and fear cycle across her face until she finally settles on resignation. "I get it. But I tried my best, so you can do whatever - "

 

"Let me finish," Societte smiles, pressing a finger against Yuel's lips to make her stop talking.

 

"When I was young, Mother read me all sorts of stories. They - well, they weren't the most realistic ones, since they had dragons and magic and we obviously don't have those. But my favorite stories were always the ones with the princesses, with the strong princesses that seemed capable of doing anything that they set their mind to."

 

Yuel's eyes progressively grow wider, but she doesn't dare talk. Societte removes her finger and lets her hand hover uselessly between them.

 

"I loved those princesses. I always thought that I'd want to be one, but I know now that I can't. I'm too shy, not fond of conflicts, would rather deal with paperwork than with my own countrymen. But I still love them, even now."

 

Yuel's eyebrows are positively up to the ceiling at this point.

 

"...You remind me of them, if I must tell the truth."

 

"And?" Yuel blurts out, unable to contain herself anymore. "Are ya tryin' to say that - "

 

"I am. I'm trying to say that I love you, Yuel, and I'm sorry for being so rude to you at first. And, um, if you still want to, would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

 

Yuel squeals, which...would probably be a more enjoyable experience if they weren't only a few centimeters apart. Her hands fly up from Societte's waist to her face, closing what little distance is left until they're properly kissing, mouths moving together awkwardly and teeth bumping but it's perfect, it's absolutely perfect.

 

They both pull away at the same time, gasping and oxygen-deprived, and Yuel takes the opportunity to giddily twirl Societte one more time before holding her tightly in her arms again.

 

"Anything for you, my princess."

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Title: Warmth, a divine intervention
Rating: i.e. G
Prompt:  “If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.”
Fandom/Series: Violet Evergarden
Word Count: 4102
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary: Violet's first Yule, with the CH Postal Company.

 

Warmth, a divine intervention
 

To Violet, her first Yule in Leiden was much like her first Thanksgiving in Machtig.

 

That is, to say, it was another city’s tradition, not hers to celebrate, and it meant little to nothing by way of a calendar event, until President Hodgins closed the CH Postal Company early on Friday afternoon and declared that they would have their first company Yule party.

 

“Oh, only a month late,” Iris muttered beside Violet. The Auto Memory Dolls had been charged with assembling the wassailing booklets for the company workers, which Cattleya confided was actually a test run of next Yule’s corporate gifts (in the hope that the company would expand significantly to participate in seasonal gift giving at all).

 

Violet flipped through the dates mentally, and agreed with Iris that, yes, it was precisely four weeks to the day Yule was scheduled on the standard calendar.

 

“And,” Iris continued, “we’re scribes, not book binders!”

 

 “Hole punching and some ribbon is hardly book binding,” Erica pointed out. A good length of red ribbon they were using to bind the booklets together had found its way into her hair, and Erica looked very pleased with the new look – or she was looking very happy as she carefully penned Benedict Blue on the cover of the wassailing booklet she was finishing.

 

“It is not what we were paid to do as Auto Memory Dolls here.”

 

“The reception staff are putting up wreaths,” Violet said from the typewriter. “Surely that was not in their administrative duties?”

 

Cattleya had decided that Violet could type the wassailing songs and everyone else with more flexible fingers could assemble the booklets. There had been protest from Violet (who said her new prosthetic joints were as good as her previous set, and it was not lacking in the dexterity needed to use hole punches, tie ribbon or assemble booklets) and Iris (who insisted that typing, compared to binding, was at least a task worthy of an Auto Memory Doll), and finally President Hodgins who was sick of the hubbub, assigned everyone a role, and then pulled Cattleya out of the room to manage catering.

 

“Reception staff keep a neat front-of-house,” Iris said with a sniff. “So I’d say putting up Yule decorations in the front-of-house certainly counts as part of their work.”

 

“Let’s call this a team effort and try to make a late Yule a good Yule.” Erica said. She finished Cattleya Baudelaire with a clean flourish. And then, looking at Violet quizzically, added, “You haven’t celebrated Yule, have you? You didn’t know about the new year air show here after all.”

 

“I had no opportunity to observe Yule,” Violet said, and she thought of Mastig’s Thanksgiving night, and the emerald brooch that blazed like the fire of the Major’s eyes, and wondered if she could match that feeling with a Leiden Yule night.

 

The Major had said the two of them would do so once the war was over, in a proper house, perhaps the Bougainvillea family home with his mother, instead of a field camp or battlefield. Once it was rumoured that homesick Northern and Southern soldiers broke rank and fraternised during the Yule season, and that had been incomprehensible to Violet, that their soldiers could share food and peace with the enemy one day, and to kill or be killed by them the next. The Major considered those events as nothing but a falsified military report, and Violet agreed. A mutual day of peace between weeks of war sounded impossible then.

 

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Hodgins whispered, you’re burning, and Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea scowled, those hands of yours that ended so many lives, and Violet told them both, if I burn, it has been a long winter, and I must keep these hands that are typing out wassailing songs warm.

 

“Violet? You’ve gotten that far-off look on your face again.”

 

She had stopped typing and had wrapped a hand around her brooch received in that Mastigian Thanksgiving. Once, she had believed the Major had gifted her with that because she had been so instrumental in the liberation of Bociaccia. Now, she wondered if the Major hadn’t talked about his gratitude for her military service and meant I love you that whole time.

 

“I was thinking,” Violet said firmly, her face turned to the ceiling, “about how glad I am to observe Yule with everyone, even if it is a month to the day on when Yule is characteristically celebrated.”

 

Iris brushed it aside with a dismissive flap of her hand, “Ah well, we know why it was put off, and I can’t fault the president for it. No point throwing a company party when company employees were running off to Ctrigall or sailing off to peace talks.”

 

Erica kicked Iris from under the table.

 

“Ow, ow, ow—hey! What was that for? It was true!”

 

“What a thing to bring up! If Cattleya said that ordeal wasn’t fit for the newspapers, how is it any more suitable for the office!”

 

“Say what? That was our postal workers out there, of course we can talk about it!”

 

Violet turned to them and said, “President Hodgins put off a Yule party for me?”

 

“And Cattleya and Benedict, they were away as well,” Erica added, righting her glasses after Iris batted at them in retaliation. “But I mean—of course we couldn’t have a Yule party without you. Until that pilot telegrammed us with your whereabouts after your adventure north, we were worried sick. Imagine trying to celebrate Yule in that mood.”

 

“You were worried that I wouldn’t return?”

 

She tested the syllables in her mouth, the way the words rolled off her tongue, and felt it very foreign. She was the soldier maiden of Leidenschaftlich once, and the Auto Memory Doll of CH Postal Company now, and striding into the battlefield was as necessary as traversing the continent to meet a client. Equally important was returning to base, ahead of or beside the Major. She had never spent many thoughts on who would be waiting for her at the postal company, besides the President as her employer.

 

“Of course,” they chorused.

 

“You’re our co-worker,” Iris said.

 

“And an important part of the Auto Memory Dolls team,” Erica said.

 

Violet opened her mouth, ready to return the sentiment of unity and teamwork, when Benedict burst in the room, crowing about how long the receptionists had taken to finally decorate the first floor, and who wanted spice cake and mulled wine because Cattleya was back, and he couldn’t wait to inaugurate the first Yule celebration of CH Postal Company by getting the president well and truly drunk until he might resign from embarrassment.

 

---

 

The receptionists had decked the halls – that was Cattleya’s term for it, even though there was only one room and Violet would hardly call it a hall. There was a great wide trestle table on the open space of the first floor, and on it, the end of the seasonal holly and handfuls of sweet-smelling pine needles strewn over its surface. The fresh wreathes from the florists were long out of stock, but Nerine and Lillian fashioned a few rustic wreathes from pine branches and pine cones, and Erica tied the last of her booklet-binding ribbons into wide looping bows to add colour.

 

“Looks good,” Benedict said as he hefted a box of taper candles into the hall. “Matches the one in your…”

 

He gestured at her ear.

 

Erica turned the colour of her ribbon.

 

Iris looked ready to gleefully interject when Cattleya swooped in and dragged them off to help with unpacking the food.

 

“Give the kids some space,” Cattleya crowed as Iris protested, “But did you see her face? She lit up like fireworks!”

 

Violet, still trying to process Erica’s flustering as she was suddenly given plenty of space alone with Benedict, said nothing.

 

“I don’t understand,” Violet said finally. She heaved a crate of bottled drinks in her arms while Iris and Cattleya picked through the paper bags of Yule foods.

 

“Say what now?”

 

“We’ve given Erica an opportune moment to share her happiness with Benedict, so why was it that she looked so panicked?”

 

Cattleya laughed and whapped her on the shoulder. “My dear Violet, you’ve never seen a confession of love have you?”

 

She had, and Gilbert had been dying all the while. But that was hardly something she wanted to voice aloud to Cattleya.

 

Thinking on it, when she had memorised young Aiden Field’s final words and formalised Princess Charlotte’s public letters, it was love that had already been known and declared.

 

She glanced at Iris, who looked rightfully disheartened. Doubtless, she was thinking of the confession that had soured Violet’s first trip with her to Kazaly.

 

Where Violet had stood in the shadow of ignorance and wondered what the Major had meant as he ordered her to live and be free, Erica stood in uncertainty. It might have been fear on her face as Violet, Iris and Cattleya left her behind – but fear was a necessary thing. It was fear that lined her teeth before a battle and compelled her to charge in and charge back to Gilbert, and fear again that spurred her along on her trek back to Intense in search of him. A bright burst of fear, before the decision was made.

 

She set her crate of drinks down.

 

“We should give them more time,” she decided. “And stay here, so Erica maintains her space.”

 

Iris shrugged and returned her armful of parcels to their box. “Fine by me. Do we just stand in the cold doing nothing the whole time?”

 

Violet had years of experience standing in the cold doing nothing beside wait for the key moment to charge into battle. She supposed it was a little unfair to expect her co-workers to be happy to do the same.

 

“We could have some of the spice cake and mulled wine Benedict promised us,” she suggested after a pause.

 

“The little weasel!” Cattleya exclaimed, “Claudia and I were keeping that grocery list secret so that it would be a surprise!”

 

She seemed so put off by Benedict’s slip of tongue that Violet felt reassurance was in order. “It is no matter,” she said as she picked out three bottles from her crate, “I have yet to celebrate Yule. Everything in your Yule grocery list will be a surprise to me.”

 

“I suppose that can’t be helped. Did you never celebrate Yule, truly?” Cattleya fished out apples from paper bags and passed one to Iris. “No spice cake until we’re back inside. It hasn’t been sliced yet. But we can have these apples for Yule.” She tossed one up like a spinning red ball, quick-handed like a street juggler, and bounced it to Violet. “For your information, Violet, these represent the sun for Yule celebrations.”

 

Violet accepted the offered apple. “The sun,” she repeated.

 

“And this is an apple fortune telling trick,” Cattleya continued. She twisted the apple stem and counted down the letters of the alphabet with each twist, until it stopped at the snapping of the stem.

 

“Well, ‘G’,” she said wryly. “Only one off.”

 

Iris peered dubiously at the apple and its snapped stem. “How is that fortune telling?”

 

Cattleya crunched into her apple with a shrug. “A hometown tradition. We used to believe that the letter the stem snaps off on will be a letter of the initials of the one you love.”

 

While Iris frantically commenced stem twisting, Violet asked, “Why is the sun important?” In her mind, she already knew why the sun was important, but how it was important to Yule, which her co-workers were taking great pains to introduce to her, seemed necessarily if she had festive letters to write in future.

 

Cattleya pondered long and hard. Beside them, Iris’ apple stem snapped off at ‘S’ and she let out a wail of despair.

 

“There, there,” Violet said while Iris, sobbing, buried her face in her hands. “I’m sure it doesn’t stand for ‘Snow’.”

 

“Can we go back inside now?” she wailed, “How long does Erica need to take to cosy up to him?!”

 

---

 

As it turned out, no one knew how long Erica needed to confess to Benedict, because as three-quarters of the CH Postal Company’s Auto Memory Dolls team heaved groceries inside, she had done nothing beyond switching the ribbon to the other side of her hair.

 

“Please tell me you know some fortune telling about that?” Iris said in a stage-whisper, as the four of them unpacked and plated a small feast onto the pine needle-strewn table.

 

“Spiced cake and ginger bread for the end of the harvest season,” Cattleya explained to Violet, who was listening attentively, “and sharing mulled wine and apple cider with others to celebrate a community. Sliced pork and turkey because… actually, I’m not sure. Who doesn’t enjoy sliced pork or turkey though?”

 

“Cattleya!”

 

“I’m busy!”

 

“Explaining Yule traditions? She can pick them up as we go along!”

 

“This is important!”

 

“So’s this!” Iris made a cutting gesture at Erica, who was humming to herself.

 

“Oh, me?” Erica said, her mouth curled in a smile. She touched the ribbon in her hair reverently. “Benedict said it framed my face better if I switched the bow to the other side. What do you think?”

 

“That’s—that’s all… all you talked about—”

 

“The ribbon is very becoming on you,” Violet said over Iris’ splutters. “Did you have sufficient space to discuss other matters?”

 

“Of course,” Erica continued. She divided the spice cake into neat geometrical slices. “We talked about our favourite wassailing songs, and then he joked about drinking the president under the table…”

 

To Violet, President Hodgins’ upcoming inebriation did not seem like a joke.

 

“Benedict can certainly try,” the president said, looming ominously behind them. “Sadly for him, I’ve lost my fondness for the stuff.”

 

While Erica bowed profusely and apologised with as many delicately crafted phrases her training as an Auto Memory Doll had bestowed on her, the CH Postal Company staff gathered around the festive trestle table for the inaugural company Yule night. There were the receptionists whom Violet knew very little of, and the postal workers who armed the sorting shelves and postal carts, including Mr Roland who delivered Violet’s very first letter to her and now gave her a friendly familiar nod, and the Auto Memory Dolls, and the president himself, standing at the head of the table like an army general ready to make a speech.

 

“My friends,” he said, “we celebrate Yule later than intended, but we celebrate it with every worker of the CH Postal Company present with us. We celebrate the end of the longest night, and the knowledge that there will be light after it. This first year of the CH Postal Company has not been easy, and I thank you all for sharing it with me. The four year war, for many of us, seemed like the longest, hardest night, but with the signing of the peace treaty between Leidenschaftlich and the Galdarik Empire, which members of our own company were party to, we will sing up the dawn.”

 

Claudia raised his bottle of apple cider.

 

“My friends. To the dawn of Leiden and the dawn of the CH Postal Company.”

 

Violet mimicked the raising of the bottles of wine and cider and drank solemnly.

 

And with that done, Claudia clapped his hands together. “Right then! I was promised that if we printed wassailing books for everyone, there would be wassailing! Where are the booklet—oh, thank you Iris dear, yes, yes, hand them out—Benedict, come back here. All together now!”

 

---

 

“You… can’t sing,” President Hodgins said, what seemed to be a few hours later.

 

Violet had difficulty keeping track of the time – but there had been no need to, in a toasty warm room where the only thing holding her attention were the wassailing booklets, and the dinner, and the many apples Cattleya had put in her hands and insisted she twist the stems off of. There was no wonder the Major had wanted Yule to be a properly done thing, once the war was over, with a proper meal in a proper house, instead of tins of corned beef and hardtack in the lull between fighting.

 

“I’ve never needed to sing before,” Violet explained. The mulled wine left her pleasantly warm. She was holding a lighted red candle in her adamant silver hands, and humming the tune to The Wassail Bowl. It was, Iris had gently suggested, the best thing she could be doing, because they all heavily discouraged her from singing. “Given the opportunity to practice, I am certain I could excel and make you proud of it, President Hodgins.”

 

“No! No, no, it’s quite alright,” Claudia said, with the air of fretting that reminded her of the day he had retrieved her from the military hospital, shoved three toys in her face and ordered her to pick out one. “I’m more surprised to know that there are things you do not excel at.”

 

Violet remembered cooking cabonara for a playwright. It was good enough for a first attempt, he had said, but his face said that it was not good enough to encourage nourishment if she were assigned to cooking daily.

 

“Please!” Claudia continued dramatically, “Please, do not burden your work as an Auto Memory Doll with learning to sing on the side. I don’t think we’ll need that, no, unless singing telegrams becomes a trend in Leiden again.”

 

“You demonstrate an excellent entrepreneurial spirit, president. If it puts you at ease, I also do not excel at cooking.”

 

“Say, what?”

 

Violet relayed her first day of work with Oscar Webster in detail, omitting nothing on how he was inebriated, working in a living space where there were more books off the bookshelf than on it, and requesting her services in cooking dinner on that first night. Claudia took it in very solemnly and at the end of it, buried his face in his hands.

 

“We need to charge clients more if they think an Auto Memory Doll can be hired for that.”

 

“I finished the play I was employed to scribe, and with my support, he exhibited creativity to develop crucial scenes. I consider this a great success.”

 

Claudia chuckled. “And so, she excels at playing a muse too.”

 

“President Hodgins?”

 

He patted her arm paternally. “Forgive me, Violet dear. I might be becoming maudlin, so late in the evening.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Violet said. It was a good evening, as far as she understood it. How it compared to other properly timed Yule parties, she did not know, but she enjoyed the apple spells, and the aged spice cake, and to sing The Morning Star is Risen with the receptionists, and, in Cattleya’s words, to hum and hold her lighted red candle like a praying maiden in a cathedral.

 

“I expect you knew little about Yule because it is an old tradition, and Leiden is one of the few old cities that keep to it. Mastig have their Thanksgiving, Eustitia celebrates their festivals on changing star charts and lunar calendars, and the northern countries prefer the new year instead of the end of the old. That, and Gilbert would not have found space for Yule in the middle of the war. Am I correct?”

 

“Yes, president.”

 

“Did you understand why we celebrate Yule then?” Claudia raised his bottle in a toast to the ceiling. “I wanted to put a chandelier up there, you know, in the old Leiden traditions. Imagine how that’d look to bring for this year’s Yule.”

 

“We sing up the dawn,” Violet repeated solemnly. They were good words, and shouted before a battle, they would have made a rousing speech.

 

“And other reasons. Yule falls around the time of the winter solstice, and after that, the days become longer and the nights become shorter. In the old practices of Leidenschaftlich, they call it the shedding off the darker half of the year for the brighter half. Don’t tell that to my parents though, they’d never believe it, the bankers,” he added with a shudder.

 

It was a statement with humour. Violet understood that at this time, she was expected to laugh, but could not.

 

“With the official ending of the war, I felt that we have finally put away some long dark nights of our lives. With Yule, you celebrate the end of the dark and the start of the light with friends.”

 

And abruptly, Violet understood.

 

“You’re thinking of the Major.”

 

The Major was always in her own mind, because he had never left it. It was the Major’s  further orders that kept her hope up for a hundred and twelve days in the military hospital at Enciel, and the knowledge that he was alive against the naysaying of President Hodgins and Naval Captain Bougainvillea that fed that hope. There would be a season where they would meet again, and Violet hoped that season would be soon.

 

Winter, even, she thought, for Yule or Thanksgiving or Leiden’s new year air show.

 

“I talked about giving him a job after the war, you know,” President Hodgins continued. “Well, of course you know. You were there when I offered it to him,” although she had been little more than a background prop there, Major Bougainvillea’s silent shadow and bodyguard.

 

“You offered me a new occupation then too,” Violet said. In Enciel, she had remembered it too, and it had been congruent with what Claudia said was the Major’s orders. It had ensured her compliance.

 

“I thought…” Claudia murmured against the mouth of his bottle, which seemed more like to be mulled wine than apple cider now, “I thought Gilbert would be here. Celebrating Yule. Writing a letter in the new year air show. With us, in the CH Postal Company. Not a chapter to be remembered about in Leiden’s military history, not yet. It feels like the world has forgotten him already, when he should be here still.”

 

They were silent.

 

Finally, Violet said, “He’s not gone. President Hodgins. The Major—he’s not gone.”

 

President Hodgins had long given up arguing that with her, so she went on, “I understand you feel sure that he is lost, but there was no body at Intense. When I think of the Major, I feel he must be out there, somewhere, making his way back to Leiden. The Major may be slow in his journey, but he must be making it.”

 

“You think so?”

 

He drained his bottle and set it down, eyes fixed to ground.

 

“I know it to be so.” Violet declared. “It is in my instincts as a soldier,” and she blew her candle out, “and I know it as well as an Auto Memory Doll knows the ways of the heart,” and fixed her hands around her emerald-green brooch, “and I feel it, as certain as the dawn will be sang up every year at Yule. If we remember Major Gilbert Bougainvillea, it won’t matter if he is late in celebrating this year’s Yule or next year’s Yule with us.”

 

She placed her hand on his shoulder.

 

Claudia looked up at her. Slowly, his mouth picked up in a tired smile.

 

“Is that so? As certain as the dawn – you might excel at poetry someday, Violet dear.”

 

“I will study it, if that is your wish, president,” she vowed.

 

He set his hand over hers, and patted it reassuringly.

 

“To our new days then,” Claudia said, and then whisking out a new bottle of cider, gathered the CH Postal Company into a last song of the night.

 

---

 

Writing notes:

 

Since the Violet Evergarden universe is very German, I’m surprised there was an out of left field air show, and no Christmas or Yule at the end of the season, especially because there’s an emphasis on the new year and Cattleya and Benedict are being ferried out to the peace talks in the middle of the snow. This is a seasonal fluff fic to remedy that – inspired in part by Lillirith’s Season of Grace. As with her, Vienna Teng’s The Atheist Christmas Carol has always dug my heart out with a blunt knife.

 

Since Violet Evergarden is set in a quasi-WWI period, Gilbert is referring to the 1914 Christmas truces that happened at the Western Front (also, the subject of the film, Joyeux Noel)


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