Elphias dearest!
Two weeks ago, Phoebe had honestly thought that the worst thing that could possibly happen in her life was her father finding out she and Elphias had been married since April, and then have him proceed to kill her husband. It was all she'd been able to think about as her grandmother forced tulle and fluffy dresses down her throat for the past few weeks, and she'd been losing sleep over the stress.

Now...Elphias had been unconscious for a week, and his brother was dead.

Phoebe really didn't care what anyone knew, anymore. In her panic she'd screamed that she needed to see her husband, and her father stared at her for all of a good second before rushing away. It all felt absolutely surreal; how was she actually sitting here right now? How was she sitting here, waiting for Elphias to wake up from his healer-induced sleep (they had approximated his wake up time to be around noon), weary from these past weeks of misery? Phoebe had no idea how to talk to his parents, or how to even try to understand---they had lost a son. Berk was dead, and Elphias nearly died too and---

The clock struck twelve and Phoebe sat up straighter, praying for Elphias to start stirring. Or---no, she wanted her husband to wake up, but she was suddenly hit with the thought that she was going to have to explain everything that happened and---oh God. Phoebe stood up, hands over her mouth as she began to pace. God, oh God--how could she--how could she possibly tell him the terrible news?