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abigailkendallwrites · 1 year ago

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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 6

Imogen and I walk along the Iakobos River, our steps near silent as we snake our way through the reedy grass to the cluster of large oaks at the bank.

We stop at the roots of one of the larger trees and Imogen pulls off her hood to give me a long look.

She leans in towards me, voice quiet. “Can you please stop giving me the silent treatment?”

When I don't respond, she turns her head to look me in the eyes, “Xaden, seriously. You weren’t there, she was talking about my parents being murdered. Am I supposed to just let trash like her get away with that? It’s dis—” I lift my hand to silence her. “Don’t finish that sentence, Imogen.” I ground out, my anger rising at the insult.

Hurt and confusion flash across her face and I feel a twinge of guilt. She doesn’t know that with every look, every confrontation, every day that goes by where Violet is in my presence, my self control slips a little more.

“The rest are close.” Sgaeyl says from her position in the sky.

My eyes lift, “We can discuss this in front of everyone. It’s a message for all of you.”

The two of us turn towards the line of trees as the rest of the group converge beneath the giant oak.

My shadows are comfortable here, they feel cool against my skin. As they unravel, my senses extend along every tendril. I can hear every small nocturne creature and subtle wind.

I can also hear the soft, quick breathing above me. What Violet Sorrengail is doing out here, is a question I’d love to know the answer to. But it can wait. This moment feels like another opportunity to push her and see which way she falls.

There are small introductions between everyone, most of them are known, but some of the first-years are from smaller families who haven’t been properly acquainted with everyone.

There’s a palpable anxiety coursing through the younger cadets. I get it, but it’s time to push it to the side, step up, and do their jobs. We protect each other. Panic isn't an option.

Garrick is angsty about the losses this week. We all are. Our numbers are small enough as is.

Garrick addresses the group, his eyes hard, “We’ve already lost Sutherland and Luperco, that’s just how it is your first year, but we can’t afford to lose a single one of us. Division amongst ourselves will be your greatest weakness.”

There’s soft rustling in the branches above as Violet moves from branch to branch.

Imogen turns to the first years, “Like it or not, we’re going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation.”

“And if they find out we’re meeting?” One of the younger girls, Gwyn, asks the group.

The fear is clear on all of their faces. They’ve all been scared for too long. But that’s what we’re here to change.

I need to inspire courage, but also remind them that we’re confident in the system we’ve created.

And remind them who they’ll be answering to if things get out of hand.

I cross my arms and lean against the tree, keenly aware of Violet, now directly above me.

“We’ve done this for two years and they’ve never found out.” My eyes scan the group, “they’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell,” I say, raising a brow, “I’ll know. Like Garrick said, we’ve already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don’t want to lose any of you, but we will if you don’t help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail.”

There’s no use in feeding them bullshit if their lives are on the line.

“How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?”

Four first-years raise their hands.

Four.

“Shit.” I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not good. After the bargain was made a few of us older kids made sure there were systems in place. Training regimens were created. Academic Curriculums, and tests that mimicked what they’ll face upon entering the quadrant. Tools to ensure every serpartist’s kid was well equipped before they put a single toe on the parapet.

The headache is back.

Garrick, always a step ahead, says, “I’ll teach them.”

After the amount of training, and natural skill he’s had, Garrick’s fighting is instinctual. Good for winning fights, not great for trying to teach someone.

I look at Garrick and shake my head, “You’re our best fighter–”

I’m interrupted by Bodhi, “ You’re our best fighter.”

“Dirtiest fighter, maybe,” Imogen corrects him with a laugh.

There’s some laughter, and even a couple smiles from the younger ones.

“Fucking ruthless is more like it,” Garrick says, grinning at me.

I keep my mouth shut and let everyone get it out of their system before moving on.

“Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she’s a hell of a lot more patient,” If the two of them want to be mouthy then they can do it together. “So the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won’t draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?” One of the first years, Kieran begins speaking before anyone else, his voice full of anguish,“I can’t do this.” My stomach lurches.

I can’t deal with this right now

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice going cold.

“I can’t do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it. A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!” The boy's voice is growing more frantic, and every word out of his mouth is filling me with guilt.

“I want to go home!” Kieran continues, “Can you help me with that ?”

Everyone turns to look at me.

I did this to them.

Bile rises to the back of my throat.

No, this was the only way I could save every person in front of me right now.

I didn’t have a choice.

And neither does he.

I swallow, frustration bubbling up to the surface.

We don’t have time to comfort and coddle. Our goal is to survive. Everything else is an afterthought.

“No,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, feigning indifference.“You’re not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time.”

My words come out harsher than intended, but I mean them nonetheless

The color drains from Kieran’s face, and his thin frame begins shaking as my words hit him.

Bodhi turns to look at me, incredulity written on his face. “That was a little harsh, cousin.”

“What do you want me to say, Bodhi? I can’t save everyone, especially not someone who isn’t willing to work to save themselves.” I keep my voice calm, even as the guilt tries to press itself in on me.

“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick says, that same disbelief lacing his voice. “Way to give a pep talk.”

Did none of them hear me after the parapet? We are not special. We will face blood and horror, and the likely possibility of death. Giving me problems that I can’t solve doesn’t help anyone, it holds us all back. This is just a fact of our reality.

“If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they’re not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Let’s get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.” I turn to look at Kieran, “In war, people die. It’s not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It’s snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There’s nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur.”

I point to the citadel off in the distance, “This isn’t some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It’s hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home…to whatever’s left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.” I lean closer to him, and the other first-years in front of me. They need to drill this into their fucking skulls, “So if you won’t get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You’re not going to make it.”

I assess each of them, making sure they’ve heard me loud and clear.

Good. Time to move on.

“Now, someone give me a problem I can actually solve,” I say, this time addressing the whole group.

Aria, one of the first years, speaks up, “Battle Brief.”

That, I can handle.

She continues, “It’s not that I can’t keep up, but the information…”

Imogen steps in to soften the obvious conflict in Aria’s voice. She leans in, voice gentle “That’s a tough one.”

Some of my irritation with her softens. Imogen’s fearless, and has a nasty temper, but she’s always been a buffer between me and everyone else.

And she’s right, It’s hard to know what we know, and still placate the professors.

I’d speak a bit more freely if I didn’t have a certain someone perched on the branch above me. I'm already sticking my neck out by letting her stay.

“You learn what they teach you.” I say giving her a pointed look. “Keep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to.” There are several nods, and I feel satisfied that everyone understands what’s at stake if they fuck up.

“Anyone else?” I say, looking up at the moon. It’s shifted considerably since we got here, which means we’re cutting it close. “You’d better ask now. We don’t have all night.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence before someone in the back says, “When do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail?”

My whole body tenses, my heartrate climbing, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from snapping. In the span of a few seconds I’ve become completely possessed. Just a handful of days around her and I’m already losing my mind at the thought of anyone touching her. She’s mine .

“Yeah, Xaden, When do we get to finally have our revenge?” Imogen says, her voice turning mockingly sweet.

I am now acutely aware of every fast breath coming from Violet.

I throw a threatening look at Imogen, “I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and I’ll handle her when the time is right.”

I don’t think I even know what that means right now. There are a lot of ways I’d like to handle–

No.

That’s not even a thought worth entertaining.

Bodhi decides to be Bodhi and stir the pot, “Didn’t you already learn that lesson, Imogen? What I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat.”

“Her mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder.” Imogen argues, her cheeks flushing in anger.

“Her mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents. Not her daughter.” Garrick looks Imogen in the eyes, “Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not Tyrrish.”

This is getting exhausting.

“So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college–”

“In case you didn’t notice, she’s in this same death sentence of a college. Seems like she’s already suffering the same fate.” Garrick says, shutting down Imogen’s argument.

Apparently everyone here needs a reminder of who Violet is in all of this.

“Don’t forget her brother was Brennan Sorrengail. She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.” I say to Imogen before turning to the first-year, “And I’m not going to tell you again. She’s mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?”

No one speaks.

The moon has shifted even closer to the horizon. Time to get these walking headaches out of here and deal with the one above me.“Good. Then get back to bed. And go in threes.”

The group clears out and I walk towards the citadel, slowly cloaking myself in shadows until I’m invisible in the dark. I can’t help but smirk as I backtrack to the oak tree and slip behind where Violet is currently positioned.

She’s patient. It takes her a good ten minutes before she finally climbs down from her perch and drops to the ground.

Still cloaked in shadows, I lunge, pulling her tight against my chest. Every place where our bodies connect is buzzing like a live wire, and I resist the impulse to drop her.

It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and dammit if I don’t love every second.

“Scream and you die,” I whisper in her ear. I don’t want to let go of her, but I force myself to remove my arm from around her neck.

Before she can even think about retaliating, I’ve replaced my arm with the edge of a dagger. “Fucking Sorrengail.” I snap, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

Fuck.

I can’t help the way my cheeks heat as she leans her head back to look me in the eyes.

I push my chest against her, forcing her eyes forward before she gets a chance to read the undeniable need on my face.

“How did you know?” She says, her lip curling. For someone who’s convinced I’m going to kill her, she has some bite. “Let me guess,” she continues, “You could smell my perfume. Isn’t that what always gives the heroine away in books?”

Perfume?

I bend my head toward hers, my lips brushing against her ear.

She’s irritating as hell. And yet here I am, excited that I have her all to myself.

“I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.” I say sarcastically, my voice barely above a whisper.

A thrill goes up my spine as she gasps. “Your signet is a shadow wielder?”

My lips are still at her ear , “What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?”

My voice sounds rough, even to me, and I resist the urge to put my mouth on her, to bite her ear, kiss her neck. I’m in a fog, consumed by being near her.

My grip loosens a fraction as my concentration slips, and she spins towards me, dagger raised, “Is this how you plan to handle me?”

“Eavesdropping are we?” I ask, brow lifting.

Seeing her like this, like she was before the parapet, angry and wild, is doing something to me, and I can’t get enough.

I sheath my dagger. “Now I might actually have to kill you.” The cold look in my eyes is in stark contrast to the way my mind is pleading with her.

Please, don’t say anything.

Because for all my bravado, I don’t know if I have it in me to kill her. I’m worried about what it might do to me.

It would wreck me.

She backs away, reaching into her cloak to pull out another dagger.

Despite her uneven footing and awkward defensive stance, Violet with her daggers out, ready for a fight is…

Fuck, It’s hot.

“That stance is really the best you can muster? No wonder Imogen nearly ripped your arm off.” I say, heaving a sigh. I don’t have it in me to kill her but there are several people who do, and will succeed with her defensive position so…lacking.

“I’m more dangerous than I look,” she says, but her cheeks are flushed and her ears have turned pink at the tips, contradicting the anger in her voice.

She’s being cute, and I can’t help but smirk. I like playing with her, “So I see. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Quicker than I would’ve expected she flings both daggers towards me.

And completely misses.

I look at her dully, if not a little disappointed, “You missed.”

“Did I?” She says, reaching for the two other daggers she has tucked into her cloak, “Why don’t you back up a couple steps and test that theory?”

What?

I smooth my face into a mask of irritated boredom, but from the way she’s looking at me, I know she saw the question in my eyes.

My shadows swirl around her ankles, pulling to touch her. I yank them back, hard, smothering my own desire.

My eyes don’t leave Violet’s as I take three steps back until my back hits the tree.

Where the hilt of each dagger sits perfectly between both sides of my head.

Oh.

Good girl, Violet.

“Tell me again that I missed.” She threatens, flipping the dagger in her hand to hold it by the tip.

I still can’t take my eyes off of her.

I smile, “Fascinating, you look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

I will my shadows into something more concrete, forming them into hands, the slender fingers moving to pluck the daggers from the bark, and drop them into both of my palms.

I’m still smiling at her like a fool. I think I’m going into shock.

My body has completely abandoned my mind, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m moving towards her, steps slow, “You should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe.”

Violet blinks in surprise, “What?”

She clocks how close we are to each other and raises her dagger.

I’ve done my job a little too well if she thinks my only motivation is to kill her. “The neck-snapping first year who’s very publicly vowed to slaughter you.” I tease, lifting an eyebrow.

One more step and the tip of her blade is pressed against my middle. I’m still smirking as I reach under her cloak and sheath one of the daggers.

I lift the other side of her cloak, and the smirk slips off of my face, every ounce of playful banter gone.

Underneath her cloak, her hair is twisted into a loose braid that falls over one shoulder and down past her breast. The silver strands, now exposed to the moonlight, glint as she shifts her head to look up at me.

I can barely breathe for wanting her so badly.

I want to wrap that braid around my wrist and yank her towards me.

For a single heartbeat I’m dumbstruck before I pull myself together and sheath her other dagger. “He’d probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head.”

Violet’s face looks half irritated, half confused, “Because the honor of my murder belongs to you?” My words from earlier play through my head. Mine . “You wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine you’ve all but buried me in your mind by now.”

I look at the dagger pressed between us. She looks closer to burying me than the other way around.

A small shiver of fear courses through me. I’ve made a dangerous gamble in letting her hear all that was said tonight. “Do you plan on telling anyone about my little club ?”

“No,” She says bluntly.

I can feel my eyebrows knit together. The answer I was hoping for, but not necessarily the one I was expecting. “Why not?” I ask. My head tilts to the side as I examine this girl in front of me, so different than I had assumed. “It’s illegal for the children of separatists officers to assemble in—”

“Groups larger than three,” Smart little thing.

She continues, “I’m well aware. I’ve lived at Basgiath longer than you.” Arrogant little thing too.

“And you’re not going to run off to Mommy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them we’ve been assembling? ” I can’t help the contempt that drips off my tongue at the thought of Dain. Of his hands on her face, searching through her memories.

“You were helping them. I don’t see why that should be punished.”

I give her an assessing glare.

She looks thoughtful, her mind turned inward for a beat before her eyes refocus on mine, “I’m not going to tell.”

I can’t get my hopes up, but they’re soaring anyways.

Her defenses are slipping away, rotating back to a familiar look of fear.

I don’t want her to be scared of me.

She needs to be scared of me. She should want nothing to do with me.

If I can just manage enough self restraint to put some distance between the two of us.

“Interesting. We’ll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor.” I say, my thoughts of staying away are already completely abandoned.

I turn to go and she calls after me, “You’re not going to handle me?”

“Not tonight!” I yell over my shoulder, a smirk on my face.

She makes an indignant sound, “What are you waiting for?”

Gods I can’t help but play with her, “It’s no fun if you expect it. Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.”

“What?” She almost shrieks, voice full of confusion.

I start to pull my shadows around me, cloaking me from view, but not before I hear her shout, “ You’re my wingleader!”

Yes the hell I am.

In the shadows my smirk has bloomed into a fierce grin.

#fourth wing #fanfiction #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xadenviolet #violet and xaden #fourth wing fanfic #tairn and sgaeyl #sgaeyl #liam mairi #mira sorrengail #basgiath

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jazminrhode1 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 13: Forgotten

Thana had never felt more isolated than she did now. She knew it was her own doing—her decision to retreat into herself, her own inability to forgive and forget.

Liam’s move to the second squad hit her harder than she’d anticipated. She knew that it was all part of Xaden’s plan to keep Violet alive but, she could not comprehend or accept why he had to do so. Every day, she watched Liam and Violet—laughing, studying, even training together—doing all the things he and Thana used to do.

Her training with Garrick had also tapered off. She had no idea where he spent his time anymore—mostly with Imogen, she gathered. His quiet affection had turned to fleeting moments between his endless responsibilities, one of which involved helping Imogen to train Violet. She slowly saw herself being edged out by someone that she alone saw as the enemy.

Thana’s refuge had become the library. In the back corner, by the stained glass window, where the light filtered in just so, casting colorful hues across the worn wooden tables. She had stolen a tome of folklore stories from the library cart and was immersed in the tale her father used to read to her as a child. The rhythmic lilt of his voice echoed in her mind as she read it over and over again. A story about a heroine who saved a burning kingdom.

Her fingers brushed over the brittle pages, each word bringing back painful reminders of her father. Of what she had lost, of what he was missing.

Before she could finish the story, the sound of scurrying footsteps interrupted her. A cadet from the Scribe Quadrant, Jessina, hovered nervously close by, clearly waiting for her chance to grab the book and return it to the shelf.

Thana slid the book across the table, and Jessina snatched it up before disappearing into the maze of shelves. Thana watched her go, her heart heavy as she let the silence fall back around her.

"What's that all about?" a voice asked.

Thana looked up to find Ruari standing closeby, leaning against one of the shelves with a smirk. He was the only person she’d been able to rely on lately, the only one who seemed to have the patience or desire to spend any time with her.

"Just doing her job," Thana replied with a small laugh, a forced lightness to her voice.

Ruari raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. He stepped closer. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, and Thana motioned for him to do so with a nod.

They shared a few moments of silence, the air comfortable between them. The absence of words didn’t feel like a weight but rather like a safe space where nothing needed to be said. They could just be.

Ruari broke the quiet first, his voice warm but playful. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Thana.”

Her lips curved into a small smile at that. “I’m sure you haven’t.”

“You’ve got a way of making everything seem… more interesting. Even folklore,” Ruari continued, his gaze softening as he glanced at the book in front of her that she had taken from the shelves a few weeks ago and didn’t have the willingness to return. “How’d you end up with that one?”

Thana hesitated, thinking back to her father. Her chest tightened. “My father used to read it to me… when I was younger. Before…” She swallowed hard, blinking away the sting in her eyes.

Ruari’s expression softened with understanding. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for more than she was willing to give. The way he respected her space, letting her share only what she wanted to, made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time: safe.

They continued to talk in hushed tones—about classes, about training, about their future, if there was one. But with each word that passed between them, Thana found herself missing her friends, even Xaden, though she couldn’t bring herself to face him now. They were slipping away, and she wasn’t sure how to stop it.

Ruari, with his quiet strength and gentle teasing, felt like the only constant at the moment. He said things that made her laugh, distracted her from the trap that was her own mind mind. At one point, his eyes softened, and he said, “I like spending time with you, Thana.”

The words, simple as they were, hit her harder than she expected. She liked spending time with him too. He was kind, easy to be around, and made her forget, even for a moment, that she was falling into a pit of her own making.

But as much as she appreciated his company, it was hard not to think of the gaping void where Liam should be. Thana’s thoughts drifted to the way he’d been with Violet earlier, looking so at ease in her presence. He hadn’t looked that way with her in weeks.

She tried to push the thought away, tried to focus on Ruari, on the comfort he provided, but it was impossible not to notice the growing distance between her and the people she cared about.

Her musings were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from the doorway. She glanced up, her heart sinking when she saw Liam and Violet standing together, their heads bent in whispered conversation. Violet was laughing, leaning in closer to Liam, who—despite his obvious affection for her—flashed a glance at Thana and gave a small wave.

Thana forced a smile, the hollow feeling in her chest spreading like a disease. She wanted to scream, to ask him why he didn’t resent her, why he didn’t hate her mere existence. But all she could do was watch them, the friendship forming between them like a slap across her face.

Ruari noticed her reaction, his brows furrowing in concern. “Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on the table, “you ok?”

Thana looked at him, her smile still tight. “I’m fine. Just…” She couldn’t find the words to explain what she felt, so instead, she lied. “I’m fine.”

She glanced at the two of them again, her chest tightening as she saw Liam smile more brightly at Violet, his gaze lingering on her in a way that only deepened the gnawing ache in Thana’s heart. He found Violet interesting, Thana could tell, he liked spending time with her.

Ruari, sensing the shift in her mood, leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” he offered.

Thana shook her head, pushing herself out of her chair. “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk myself.”

She shoved the tome under her jacket before making her way toward the door, taking the long way to avoid Liam and Violet. The hallway seemed longer than it ever had before, the silence in her footsteps deafening. The air around her felt thick and she couldn’t shake the sense that the world around her was fading.

By the time she reached the door to her room, everything went black.

Thana awoke with a sharp throb in her head, the pain blinding. She could feel the cold, damp floor beneath her, and as her vision cleared, she realized she was not in her room. She was somewhere that felt far away, the walls cracked and damp, the air heavy with an unnatural chill.

And there, sitting beside her, stroking her hair with a soft, tender touch, was her mother.

Thana’s breath caught in her throat as the haunting, sinister melody filled the air, her mother singing in that eerie, melodic tone she’d always used when Thana was small, when she would try to lull her to sleep. But now, the song felt wrong—too familiar, too unsettling.

Her mother’s hollow eyes met hers, devoid of warmth, and the suffocating silence that followed was almost worse than the song.

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