#Wingleader & Second

[unyieldingwings]

Can… Can I say this now?

RHIANNON MATTHIAS FOR FOURTH WING WINGLEADER NEXT YEAR THO.

Fucking awesome.

[kaerinio]

speaking of emp.yrean things. this is my reminder to write a thing about her relationships with drogo and daario specifically, but also with jhogo, aggo, rakharo, doreah, irri, jhiqui, and missandei. i also need to write a thing about how/why she kills jhaqo and mago.

[acourtofquestions]

This was so fun! Thank you so much!!😊🫶 (Sorry it took me so long to get around to this)😅💙

I decided to make some more characters I love cause this was perfect for it! (Also yours gave me great Gwyn inspo so thank you ;-)

Aelin Sardothien :-)

The Wingleader and everyone’s favorite Second (+Abraxos x Nerene🥹)

The Archeron sisters

The Valkyrie

I’ll also try to do one on my main page for a me oc😊🫶 @lavendarneverlands

@mysterylilycheeta I would tag you but you already made an awesome one, so peoples if you wanna see more go check the lovely page!🤗

No pressure tags & everyone is welcome!♥️

@ladyylesbian @briaberri @highqueenofelfhame @somewhere-in-the-rain @cheap-spirits @guardian-angel12

Wanted to start a chain💕

Have fun💕

@justalexisfine @blackmetalstar @sunfl0wersapphic @angis-filthy-corner

@angel-cryptid @xxradzxx @flawedmasterpiece13 @gold3n-w0lf-with-horns

@hauntedhowling @warmestshrine @thelovelydragonleelee @one-princess-revolution

@jenuchi @marsmacabre @mokacheer @nicodibomb

@justagirlluckyme @maple-syrupmarshmellow

[slytherin-pen]

Nothing To Prove

pairing: Garrick Tavis x Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: RSC torture, injuries, ptsd, side character death, hurt/comfort

a/n: now that i’m nearly at 200 followers i finally post my ‘100 followers appreciation’ fic. looks like i’ll be posting another poll soon 😆 genuinely though thank you for all the support, it truly means the world to me. comment if you’d like to join my Fourth Wing specific taglist!

Everything was muffled—like someone had stuffed cotton in your ears. Pain pulsed through your body, a sharp, aching throb that started in your face and spread down your body. You were only meant to have been in the RSC training torture chamber for two days, but it felt like it had been much longer than that. It became obvious early on that you were being targeted due to your relationship with Garrick Tavis when you were strapped into a chair in the middle of the room while the rest of your squad was chained to the wall next to each other.

But they didn’t break you. Even after they took away the bond with your dragon, even when they took their frustration out on your squadmates. You held the line. You wish you could say the same for everyone. One of your squadmates, Patrick, had given in.

You now understand why Professor Grady had only responded with ‘Don’t’ when a cadet had asked what happens if you break. Your whole squad had held their breath when Patrick gave up his phrase. That’s when the delusion had kicked in—that maybe it would be ok. Your squad would just have a few points deducted, your Wingleader would scold you and call you all embarrassments to the Wing but Patrick would be fine.

He was not fine.

The two Infantry cadets executing the interrogation had started beating him relentlessly. Punching his face, kicking his stomach. You think you might have screamed, but it was hard to tell over the cries of pain from Patrick and the shouting of your squadmates.

That alone felt like it had gone on for hours, and by the time they pulled away it was a shock to see him still breathing. His face was purple with blood running down his nose and chin. A couple of his teeth lay on the stone floor and his nose was undoubtedly broken. You thought his ear may have been hanging off but it was hard to see through your swollen eyes.

It wasn’t long after that when Professor Grady walked into the room, gave a disapproving frown toward your squad, and then broke Patrick’s neck.

Someone fainted. Someone else pissed themselves, but no one else broke after that. Thank Zinhal the interrogation ended soon after.

You survived. Now, you just had to survive the aftermath.

The bright mage lights of the Healer’s Quadrant were disorienting after spending two days in the dark chamber. Fuzzy figures passed you, one stopping by to pour some disgusting tonic down your throat. The only reprieve was that you could feel your dragon, Thalor, again. Grunts and moans of pain filled the room and the smell of antiseptics nauseated you.

You barely registered it when strong arms lifted you from the cot you’d been placed on after your squad was escorted to the infirmary. There was a low murmur of voices, but your head lolled against a broad chest, exhaustion dragging you under. That’s when the scent of leather and steel reached your nose. Garrick.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

The world blurred as he carried you to the barracks, his grip secure yet gentle. You wanted to say something, anything, but you were too drained to open your mouth. You let your head rest on his shoulder and shut your eyes.

His steps were long and determined, quickly navigating the halls of Basgiath and narrowly avoiding being spotted by leadership. He knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you like this despite disagreeing with your reasoning. Everyone who had survived second year knew exactly what it was like to go through RSC scenarios, and they would be hypocrites for judging you. Garrick’s heart hammered in his chest, his rage ready to lash out like a beast in a cage. He saw the rest of your squad lying on the other cots when he walked through the infirmary, and you looked significantly worse. Blue and purple bruises marred the skin that was visible outside of your uniform, and dried blood was smudged around your face.

He tried to remain calm for you though. You likely had enough panic running your system to power a dragon, he didn’t need to add to it. Even though RSC torturing was a sanctioned scenario, it didn’t mean those running it couldn’t take advantage of an opportunity to cause you harm. You weren’t a marked one like him, but at Basgiath you weren’t as good as guilty by association. Choosing to be with him was frowned upon but you never batted an eye at the whispering or glares cast your way. You’d just raise your chin and grab his hand, signaling to everyone who could see that you did not care what they thought. It’s one of the many reasons Garrick loved you.

He finally approached his room, unlocking the door with a flick of his wrist. His rucksack and swords were still tossed in the corner where he left them when he found out you had been released from the chamber. Xaden had him running extra drop-offs just to keep him busy, too busy to run down there and break you out.

You whimpered when the warmth of his body disappeared as he placed you on his bed. Garrick pulled the blankets over your trembling form. His hands, calloused from years of flying and fighting, gently brushed the hair from your face before checking the damage.

His voice was a growl when he finally spoke. “I should kill them for this. I should—”

He cut himself off. Cool. Calm. Collected. You were sensitive to emotions others gave off, and him getting worked up would only set you off.

Garrick took a deep breath. “Just rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You mumbled something he didn’t quite catch, but then your body relaxed and he knew you were asleep.

The memories chased you in your slumber. The feeling of the leather straps being tightened around your wrists. The terror you felt after you realized you couldn’t communicate with your dragon anymore. Your squadmates being beaten over and over again. Patrick as his body hung loosely from the grip of the chains after Professor Grady snapped his neck.

Your nightmare took on a mind of its own. Patrick started to move. His neck, at an unnatural angle, turns to look at you. Lifeless green eyes staring into your own. He was muttering something—you couldn’t tell what. He began to thrash against the chains as you screamed. Your screams got more frantic as you looked around the room and noticed all of your squadmates were dead too. Slouched with bones going in the wrong direction, blood dripping from their throats.

You jolted awake as a large hand gripped your shoulder. The flickering of a candle on a desk across the room was the first thing you saw, then your head snapped toward the hulk of a shadow sitting on the bed next to you.

“Garrick?” you murmured, voice hoarse.

He frowned, eyes roaming over your sweaty form. “I told you I’d be here when you woke up.”

You blinked, struggling to remember when he said that or how you got here. Swallowing past the tightness in your throat you asked, “Don’t you have training with Xaden tonight?”

He let out an exasperated huff. “No, love. I have much more important matters to attend to.”

Your sleep-addled brain was slow to catch up. “Like what?”

His hazel eyes softened as he met your gaze. “You.”

Something in your chest cracked with those words. You knew he loved you, of course. But Garrick was always so busy. Being a Section Leader, assisting a revolution, helping train the first years—all on top of keeping himself alive. An insecure, anxious part of you sometimes sees yourself as less important. I mean really, how do you compare to the protection of an entire province and a hundred and seven marked ones?

But then you looked at him. Really looked at him. His dark, curly hair was tussled like he’d been running his hands through it. Dark circles lined his under eyes, and he kept clenching and unclenching his hands with seeming restless energy.

Garrick had always been the calm and steady one. When you were pacing or nearly tearing your hair out, he was the anchor that kept your mind from drifting too far. Preventing the waves of your emotions and worries from pulling you under. But right now, there was something unsteady in him too.

“Garrick, I—” You tried to push yourself up, but the pain hit like one of Imogen’s punches, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

He was there instantly, hands bracing your shoulders, stopping you from moving too fast. “Easy,” he murmured.

He adjusted the pillows behind you and helped you slowly scoot up to lean your back on the headboard. You sighed as your muscles relaxed slightly. Garrick handed you a glass of water and you gulped it down, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

You whispered a thanks as you handed the glass back to him, and placed it on the table beside the bed.

“You’re staring,” you mumbled as your fingers fiddled with the seam of the blanket.

His lips twitched, crinkling the scar that ran along his cheekbone. “You make it hard not to.”

“Because I look like I got thrown off a dragon?”

His expression darkened. “Because I hate seeing you like this.”

You exhaled, shifting against the pillows. “It’s part of training. We all have to go through it.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he shot back.

“Still. You don’t have to babysit me,” you sighed. “I’m a big girl, I can manage to not bust my ass on the way to the bathroom.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not babysitting you. I’m taking care of my girlfriend.”

The word sent a strange warmth through you.

Girlfriend. Riders didn’t often use those terms. Usually, two people would hang out and hook up regularly, and then after graduation they’d get married if they wished. That was when labels were put on things. Life was so short and uncertain at Basgiath, using labels like boyfriend or girlfriend felt so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But as a warm fluttering swarmed your stomach, it didn’t feel so insignificant.

You and Garrick had always been close. You met him just before you crossed the Parapet during your first year at Basgiath. After he took your name for the roll he had warned you to tie your hair back so it wouldn’t obstruct your eyesight. Looking back, it should have been obvious to you that being blinded by your hair might lead to your death, and maybe he should have let you cross as you were and you would have had no one to blame but yourself. But he didn’t. He broke a rule for you before you’d even properly met. Then he found you after your first formation and invited you to join him and his friends for training later that night. Somewhere between midnight flight drills when neither of you could sleep, relentless sparring practice, and stolen glances during Battle Brief—things had shifted. He had become the one person you could truly let your guard down with. Someone you didn’t have to hide your spiraling thoughts or sensitive heart from.

And now, when you were at your lowest, he refused to leave.

“I just—” You hesitated, frustration rising in your throat. “I hate this. Hate having to rely on someone.”

His lips dipped into a slight frown. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a hand. We all can use a little help every now and then.”

You scoffed. “When have you ever needed help?”

“After I watched my parents die.” He looked down at the relic winding up his arm, stroking it thoughtfully. “After Parapet and I realized this wasn’t all some fucked up nightmare. That we really had been sent to this death sentence of a college for the crimes of our parents. I was lost. But Xaden picked me up. And Bodhi, and Imogen, and Liam. We help each other. We lean on each other. And I’ll be damned if my girl thinks she has to stand on her own to do what? Prove that she’s strong?”

Your throat tightened, tears gathering in your eyes.

Your dragon, Thalor, chimed in for the first time since getting access to your bond again. “The Section Leader is right. You have nothing to prove. I chose you. You held the line. That is enough.”

Garrick sighed and grasped your hands in his. He leaned in close enough you could see the mix of brown and green in his eyes. “You are strong. I know it, your squad knows it, this whole damn quadrant knows it. The only person who still questions that is you.”

The memories of the interrogation hit you again. The bone-deep chill, the fear on your squadmates’ faces. Your own fear.

Tears ran down your cheeks and your breath hitched before the dam broke. “I was so scared,” your voice cracking with the admission. “The whole time. I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t calm. I was an embarrassment to what it means to be a Rider. Every time they walked into the room I wished I could flee. And then—and then they killed Patrick and I—”

Garrick grabbed your face with his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Baby. Baby, look at me.”

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling too fast. Garrick’s eyes were wide, his brows drawn together when you met his stare. Your hands trembled as you pressed them against your ribs as if you could somehow steady the erratic rhythm of your breathing. The room felt too small, the walls creeping closer, the dim lighting casting shadows that flickered like ghosts.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low and gentle. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He seemed to notice your aversion to the darkness and with a flick of his wrist the mage light was on, casting the room in a light blue glow.

You forced yourself to nod, but your throat was tight, your body locked in place. His gaze jumped around to your face, your arms—the bruises, the cuts, and his jaw clenched. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly. When he met your eyes again, there was no pity, only quiet understanding.

“What you went through…” He hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully. “No one walks away from something like that without scars. It’s normal.” His voice softened further, the words weaving through the haze of your mind. “Your reaction is normal.”

A shuddering breath left your lips. “Then why—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. “Why does it feel like I can’t breathe?”

He removed his hands from your face and instead grabbed your knees, squeezing lightly. Grounding you. “Because your body still thinks you’re there,” he said. “It takes time to teach it that you’re safe now.”

Safe. You wanted to believe him, but you’re never truly safe at Basgiath, are you?

Garrick gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll go grab a med kit, I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of a cabinet opening and closing filling the silence. When he returned, he was carrying a small black box. He returned to his spot beside you, opening the latch with one hand.

“Let me?” he asked, holding up a cloth he’d soaked in antiseptic.

You nodded.

His touch was firm but careful as he cleaned the cuts on your hands and arms, his thumb brushing along your skin with the occasional silent apology when the antiseptic stung. He grimaced the same times you did when he got to your face. There was a cut through your left eyebrow and on your cheek. From experiencing a lifetime full of injuries he knew the face was the most sensitive. His movements were so at odds with his body. This large, muscularly dense man, who could snap you like a twig if he wished, was using a gentleness that made your heart stutter. It was as if you were a priceless vase and he was trying to put it back together. His methodical movements, the crease between his brow as he focused helped soothe you, the panic receding like the tide.

“I can’t believe the Healers didn’t patch you better,” he said through gritted teeth. He placed your wrist on his knee as he wrapped it with a bandage.

You licked your dry, cracked lips, focusing on his face again rather than his hands. “They gave me a tonic and I think they mended a few bones, I don’t remember much though. I was pretty out of it by the time we got there. But they had a whole squad to heal, they couldn’t spend all of their time on me.”

He clenched his jaw but said nothing. You looked up at him as he moved back to your face, placing a butterfly bandage on your brow. Your hand twitched with the urge to caress the two days worth of stubble that covered his sharp jawline.

“There,” he said after smoothing a balm over your cheek. “All patched up.”

You blinked, snapping out of your reverie. He didn’t move right away, and neither did you. The weight of exhaustion pulled at your limbs, but you were hesitant to succumb to it. The fear and adrenaline still running through you. Maybe he sensed it, maybe he just knew you better than you know yourself sometimes, because the next thing he did was set the med kit aside and motion for you to scoot over with his chin.

He untied his boots and kicked them off before climbing into the bed beside you and maneuvering under the blankets. His arm curled around you, pulling you against his chest, the steady beat of his heart anchoring you. His other hand found your hair, fingers threading through the strands.

“Go to sleep,” he said, his tone soft yet leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be right here. I’ll keep you safe.”

And this time, you believed him, the rest of the adrenaline draining from your body as your eyes finally shut.

[quietstormxr]

Favorite

Summary: Xaden never knew he had a favorite.

A/N: FW spoilers, Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Just for fun, because it came to me. Enjoy!

He never realized how much he looked forward to your presence on the day to day. The quick small smile that you would give him in the morning. The way your laugh seemed to reverberate through the halls warming him from the inside out. So many little things and moments that he had taken for granted, hell he hadn’t even noticed them before. 

Not until the morning that you didn’t show up for breakfast. He didn’t even realize he was searching for you until Garrick elbowed him in the side.

“Why the hell do you keep looking at the doors like they’ve personally offended you?” Garrick teases earning a glare from Xaden. 

“I’m not. Just looking around.” He mumbles back turning his head away from the doors to the dining hall.

‘Lying this early in the morning is a new one, even for you.’ Sgaeyl can’t help but slither into the conversation earning nothing but an irritated huff from her bonded rider.

Later that day he just couldn’t shake the dread that had settled into him since he hadn’t seen you in any of your classes or battle brief. As your Wingleader, he knew that if something was wrong someone would’ve told him. He always received notes regarding any cadets that were sick or indisposed in his wing. Unfortunately, no note of any kind had been sent his way.

It went on like that for three long days. Mornings with no smile, classes with no laugh, and evenings of scanning the hall for your eyes. 

On the slow trudge back to the dormitories, a movement in the corner of the rotunda caught his eye. Looking over he saw a figure, bloodied from head to toe, eyes almost swollen shut. For a moment he didn’t give it much thought, until he saw the glint of gold around your neck. In that moment, his heart rate spiked as recognition ran through him. You were the only rider that wore a necklace like that, and then he realized there was no mistaking that hair.

Without registering what his feet were doing, he found himself moving towards you at a speed that surprised even himself. In a few quick strides he was standing in front of you as you went to limp a few additional steps forward.

“What happened?” He breathed, unsure of if he should touch you or not.

You shook your head back at Xaden, your already swollen eyes beginning to water with the obvious pain radiating from every inch of your body.

“Can I take you to the healers?” He rushes out, feeling helpless watching you suffering.

You give him a slight nod and before you can bring your head all the way up, Xaden hoists you up and begins to carry you. A sharp hiss finds it way out of your lips as the pressure of your wounds is aggravated by his calloused hands. He looks down at your face and you don’t miss the apology reflected in the golden flecks of his eyes.

Xaden walks swiftly and with purpose striding faster than normal to get you to the healers. Inside though, he is a tumult of emotion between rage and fear. What the hell happened to you? You weren’t a second year so this wasn’t an RSC exercise.

‘Does Cikeniss know what happened?’ He questions Sgaeyl not wanting to wait for you to give him the answer.

‘No, Cikeniss only confirms that she was somehow cut off.’ Sgaeyl relays with a hint of anger coating her reply.

‘Cut off? How could she be cut off from her bond?’ Xaden questions trying to get more information. 

‘It is apparently something new your leadership is trying out. They have yet to give the antidote. Cikeniss confirms she can’t reach her rider.’ Sgaeyl confirms as he feels the anger at the possibility radiating from his sapphire bond.

Snapping out of his conversation with Sgaeyl, he looks down at you and feels his arms tighten involuntarily. You were cut off from your dragon and something could’ve happened. The thought that no one knew where you were and now that your dragon didn’t even have access to you solidifying the fear he’s been feeling. 

In the next few strides, he’s entering the healer’s quadrant. As he walks into the facility, there are people rushing about, but no one has seemed to taken notice of the two of you. He walks further into the room and still no one notices. 

Patience wearing thin, he snaps. “Is someone going to look after her or do I need to bandage her myself?”

Immediately two healers lead the way to a room as you look up to your commanding Wingleader. Gently lowering you onto the bed, his breath catches when even in pain you give him one of your warm smiles. The anxiety over the last few days seeming to lessen slightly, thought looking at your broken and bruised body it lingers.

The healers gather over your frame that is gently laid on the white sheets of the bed. The stark relief between the mix of the blood and grime that is sliding from your skin and leathers to the sheets has Xaden tensing more and more each second. How much had your body been broken and bruised for three whole days? What the reason that it even happened in the first place?

He tries to turn over what could have possibly happened before his thoughts are interrupted by a small hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he is greeted with the serious face of a healer. 

“She will need to be sedated in order for us to work on her fully. You are welcome to stay, but if so, you’ll have to wait in the hall.” The healer relays. 

Xaden can’t imagine possibly leaving you after seeing you so broken and bruised. And that is why he finds himself pacing the hallway of the healer’s quadrant with a dagger absentmindedly flipping over and over in his hand, thoughts still consumed with the possibilities of why this happed. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the pacing is doing little to calm the raging storm in his thoughts.

‘Can Cikeniss reach her?’ He questions Sgaeyl wanting to at least know that you’re still holding on.

‘No.’ Sgaeyl confirms with no sugar coating her tone.

Just hearing Sgaeyl confirm you are still cut off causes his chest to tighten further. It seems the gods finally are willing to have a little mercy on him as in the next pass of his pacing one of the healers finally comes out of the room. 

“We’ve treated everything we can. Nolon has been in to make sure to help with any major issues and she’s cleared to go back to her room. She’s going to have lingering bruising and soreness, but overall, she should be cleared for getting back to class.” The healer confirms.

As Xaden stands there listening, the last thing he can possibly imagine is letting you go back to classes with how he just saw you. 

“May I go in and be with her now?” Xaden asks hopefully, dreading being told no and to get back to class. 

“Of course. She may still be a little drowsy, but she should be waking up soon.” The healer tells him, gesturing towards the room your in. 

‘Cikeniss confirms their bond has been restored.’ Sgaeyl startles him as he begins to step towards your door. 

‘Did Cikeniss confirm anything else?’ He asks needing to know what exactly happened to you for his own sanity.

‘She did, but you will have to ask if you want that information.’ Xaden can’t help but feel disappointment and agitation that Sgaeyl won’t tell him what you went through.

‘It’s not as easy as just telling you. The reasons for her laying in that bed is not idol gossip that should be spread.’ Sgaeyl responds tersely, almost as if she is upset on your behalf for everything you endured.

Xaden can’t help the furrow overtaking his brow as he enters the room. As he lays eyes on your form, he can’t help but take stock of all the bruises that are littered across your arms, torso, and legs. The small shake of his head is impossible to stop as he realizes there may not be one patch of skin that doesn’t have a lingering purple tint. 

As soon as he reaches the side of the bed, he can see how your breathing is beginning to change indicating that you are waking up. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he finally watches your eyelids begin to flutter. As soon as he sees your eyes open fully, the breath fully releases from his lungs as he brings his hand to hold yours. The constriction that settled around his entire chest completely breaks when you give him a small smile, disarming him completely in a way he never realized before.

“If anyone saw, they might think you have a favorite dear Wingleader.” His hand tightens on your own at hearing you speak after four days of not seeing you, thought he can’t stop the glare he gives you at your comment. 

“Well, they can fuck right off.” He responds back immediately in a tone harder than he meant to give you.  “Besides, they wouldn’t be wrong, I do play favorites.”

He watches as your eyes flash going slightly wider than before, showing the way the words register in your mind. The smile that breaks onto his face at your reaction is one he knows he hasn’t had in a while, a happy, yet teasing lilt to his lips. 

“What exactly is that supposed to imply?” You ask him as he hears your breath seem to catch in your throat. Slowly Xaden brings himself to stand flush next to the bed you’re still laying in. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying.” Ever the confident man, Xaden can’t help but tease you a little at your question. He watches as the annoyed look is now firmly planted on your face due to his ever-elusive responses.

“Please enlighten me, dear Wingleader Riorson. Besides, how am I going to compete with your bonded first year who has made her obvious attractions for you widely known.” Now it’s Xaden’s turn for shock to plaster across his face, its almost as if he’d forgotten how you could give as good as he could.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says hoping that he can escape the daunting topic that is Violet Sorrengail.

The knowing look that you give him does the exact opposite than reassure him. Xaden knew he couldn’t deny Violet’s penchant for looking at him as if he was the hottest man alive. Hell, he knew he even had stoked her attraction on several occasions, making a saddle, sparring with her constantly, and crafting daggers for her. The worst mistake of all was kissing her and thinking of it he can’t help but shake his head with regret.

For the first time, he’s unsure how to proceed. Four days ago, he didn’t even realize he had feelings for you and now he’s trying to convince you. The bravado he had just moments ago seemed to have completely vanished, just like shadows in the noon day sun.  

“Her infatuation is just that. Infatuation.” Xaden says firmly, although he’s unsure if he can even convince himself of that.

The raise of your brow shows him that you know that he’s trying to convince the both of you. 

“Regardless.” Xaden can’t help saying with finality. “That may be her feelings, and I’m sorry if I hurt her, but I don’t return the sentiment.”

Xaden can feel his heart picking up speed in his chest as he waits for you to say something in return. 

Anything.

The moments seem to tick by; a never-ending echo of the clock in the background the only thing that dares to break the silence. Xaden watches as your eyes seem to bore through him as if seeing through every mask he’s ever worn, every secret he’s ever told.

Without saying anything he watches as you rise on your elbows and move to swing your feet to the side of the bed. Your continued silence doing nothing to help the gnawing at his gut that you’re lost to him before he ever even had a chance with you.

Xaden immediately is at your side grasping your waist after you let out a hiss at trying to stand up from the bed.

“Thank you.” You whisper through clenched teeth. Xaden knows that he shouldn’t be waiting on your response, but it feels to him as if everything is still suspended in mid-air waiting for your confirmation or denial. 

As Xaden feels himself beginning to brood, trying to keep the despair that you don’t care for him, he completely misses the way that you begin to turn yourself in his arms.

It isn’t until both of your arms snake around his waist and you bury your head in the crook of his neck that he realizes he may be spiraling for no reason.

‘Do calm down your emotions, your thoughts are more erratic than when we are in battle.’ Sgaeyl claps at him breaking his spiraling thoughts completely.

“If you’re going to play favorites, I’m going to need you to make your claim clear.” Xaden looks down at you as you bring your face up to look him in the eyes.

Xaden brings his hand up to your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your head so he can see the gleam in your beautiful eyes.

“Oh Love, don’t you worry about that. I intend to make sure that everyone in the quadrant knows you’re my favorite.” Xaden teases while bringing his nose to rest on yours, all the while memorizing every fleck in your eyes. 

The answering smirk on your lips is all the confirmation he needs before he brushes his lips against yours, tentatively at first. The way you immediately respond and arch into his touch makes his eyes flash and a groan leave his lips. Xaden can’t believe the way your kiss is searing into his skin, the feeling of you drowning him like no one ever had before.

He immediately deepens the kiss grabbing you firmly at the nape of your neck drawing your face even closer. Your answering moan causing his blood to heat and desire to begin coiling around his entire frame. Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours trying to calm his breathing. 

“Well then.” You say to him, your breathing still a little rapid. “I guess it’s time for you to show everyone who your real favorite is.”

Xaden gives you a knowing smile before grasping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back to the riders quadrant. There is no doubt in his mind that you are just like chocolate cake – one of his favorite things he’ll never tire of.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

[graysonfics]

1.

the first time you feel xaden’s shadows is during battle brief. you’re mid conversation with ridoc and you laugh a little too loudly at one of his jokes. your smile fades when you feel the possessive curl of a shadow around your waist, but it’s gone as soon as you register what just happened.

“are you good?” ridoc’s looking at you with an uncertain look. “i lost you for a minute there.”

“i’m fine.” you brush it off, but the glance you steal at xaden when class starts reveals him smirking behind his hand.

2.

it doesn’t happen again for a few weeks, just long enough for you to forget about the battle brief incident. you’re walking with violet and rhiannon to your next class, the tower of books in your hands making your day incredibly difficult.

“do you really need all of those?” rhiannon notices you’re struggling to keep them balanced.

“i stopped by the library this morning and didn’t have time to go back to my room.” you try to shift the weight of the books and nearly drop all of them in the process.

“here, let us help.” violet reaches out to halve your stack, but you aren’t prepared and two books topple from the top your pile.

just as you’re about to pick them up, shadows wrap around their bindings and carefully lift them back into your arms.

as the three of you gape at the books you’re now holding, xaden passes you in the hallway.

“thanks.” you say to him, unable to stop the heat that’s beginning to seep into your cheeks.

“keep your reading light, (y/l/n).” he chastises without stopping, leaving you and your friends to stare after him in utter shock.

“okay, that was hot.” rhiannon’s the first to break the silence and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you continue on your way to the class you’re definitely going to be late for.

3.

after your last interaction with xaden, it’s safe to say he’s been on your mind. how can someone so infuriating be so sexy to you? all he has to do is look in your direction and you turn into a bumbling fool.

you fit in fantasising about your wingleader around training for your challenge, and soon you’re stepping onto the mat to face someone who is definitely going to beat you to a pulp.

you try to remember everything rhiannon’s been teaching you, but as soon as the girl launches for you it all flies out of the window. she puts you on your back a few times, but you quickly learn that she isn’t as fast as you. by some miracle, you manage to counter her and slip in between her legs. her surprise gives you time to jump onto her back and force her to the ground with three fingers curled into the pressure point on her neck. she yields in two seconds.

as you try to catch your breath, you feel the caress of a shadow against your blistering cheek. spinning on your heel, you’re met with onyx eyes.

4.

that night, you find xaden in the courtyard. it’s late and there’s a chill in the air, and there’s many reasons for you to go back to bed and pretend you don’t see him sitting out here alone, but you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“you shouldn’t be out here.” he doesn’t bother to look at you.

“how did you know it was me?” you ignore him and sit down.

“my shadows sensed you.” you can’t tell if he’s joking, but you choose not to question it.

“your shadows seem to like me,” you notice that his lips tilt up into a smirk that disappears as quickly as it comes. “they’re always finding me.”

“i wouldn’t know anything about that.”

you snort, shaking your head in amusement. a shiver runs through your body and you try to hide it from xaden, but he’s quick to wrap you up in his shadows. you look down at the dark blanket and smile.

“thanks.”

“don’t mention it.”

you sit with xaden until he deems it’s too cold to stay out. he doesn’t walk you to your door, but he brushes your lips with a small shadow before you part.

5.

“i won’t tell you again, barlowe. but because i’m feeling nice, how about you decide to fuck off before i make you?”

jack mutters something under his breath but knows better than to challenge xaden. he stalks off, leaving you with your wingleader.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you tell him. “i had it under control.”

“did you? because from where i was standing it looked like he was being a dick and you were letting him.”

“why do you care anyway?” you argue petulantly.

“because my shadows like you.”

the smile he gives you almost turns your legs into jelly. he’s about to say something else, but bodhi comes running over and the moment passes quicker than you’d like it to.

it isn’t until you politely take your leave that you feel a shadow kiss your cheek in goodbye.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Crossing the line - Dain Aetos

Dain Aetos x reader

word count: 4,6 k

trigger warning: mild onyx storm spoilers, NSFW, SMUT, 18+

requests are open!! i’m currently reading onyx storm and i’m obsessed with nearly everyone so shoot

Ever since entering the rider’s quadrant, you’d made it your personal mission to get under Dain Aetos’ skin. There was something about the way he carried himself - so composed, so infuriatingly perfect - that made you want to crack that facade wide open. Being in the same squad only gave you more opportunities to push his buttons. You told yourself it was just for fun, that you didn’t care about the way his jaw tightened when you teased him or the way his eyes flashed with something he couldn’t quite hide. But deep down, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were trying to see if there was more to him than the rule-following, by-the-book cadet everyone thought he was.

But later on, your comments grew to be more of a joke than genuine criticism and both you and Dain made it a part of your routine. Halfway through your second year, your teasing remarks had taken on a different tone - lighter, flirtier, though neither of you acknowledged it. You told yourself it was just a game, a way to keep things interesting. But sometimes, when his eyes met yours across the mess hall or during training, you wondered if there was something more behind his sharp retorts and smirks. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one who noticed the way the air between you seemed to crackle with something you couldn’t quite name.

But during your third year, you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under your wingleader’s eyes nor the lack of humour in his retorts. You’d been there when his father disowned him. The words had echoed through the room, sharp and final, like the crack of a whip. You’d seen the way Dain’s shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw clenched as if he were holding back a storm of emotions. But what struck you most was the way his eyes - usually so full of fire and determination - had gone hollow, as if a part of him had been extinguished. Your heart ached for him, though you’d never admit it out loud. For all the times you’d teased him, you’d never wanted to see him broken.

Somehow, you found yourself standing in front of the door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest as you paced back and forth. What the hell were you doing? This was Dain Aetos, the man who’d spent three years glaring at you like you were the bane of his existence. And yet, here you were, holding a bottle of wine like some kind of peace offering. You took a deep breath, your knuckles hovering over the door. Before you could second-guess yourself, you knocked - three sharp raps that echoed down the empty hallway. You heard those soft but tired steps coming closer and closer until the door opened and your eyes met his, their sandy-brown irises lacking their usual spark.

“Hey,” Dain said, leaning against the door frame in a poor imitation of nonchalance. But you saw right through him. The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, and the usual sharpness in his gaze was dulled by exhaustion. His brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his posture, though carefully casual, betrayed the weight he was carrying.

“Thought you could use some company,” you said, holding up the bottle of wine with a grin. “And before you say no, remember that I’m the only person in this quadrant who can put up with your brooding. Well, besides your paperwork, but I’m way more fun.”

Dain eyed the bottle suspiciously, his brow furrowing as if trying to decipher your motives. But you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. For once, he didn’t have the energy to push you away or fire off one of his usual sharp retorts. Instead, he glanced down the hallway, as if checking to make sure no one was watching, and then stepped aside to let you in. You didn’t need to say it out loud - you’d already won.

You’d never seen his room before, but it was exactly what you expected: barren walls, a simple bed, an armoire, a chair and a table buried under piles of paperwork and books. The sight made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just a room - it was a reflection of him. Orderly, functional, and painfully lonely. The guilt in your heart grew heavier. Had you been so focused on breaking his walls that you’d failed to notice how much he was already carrying?

Dain sat down back in his chair and started cleaning the surface of the table, to no avail. You could see the nervousness creeping into him. When was the last time he had a girl in his room? You forced yourself to not think about such nonsense.

You perched on the edge of his bed, the mattress firm beneath you, and took a swig of wine. The rich, tangy flavor grounded you as you watched him shuffle papers aimlessly. The room smelled faintly of leather and ink, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over his tired face. You fidgeted with the bottle, unsure what to do with your hands - or your thoughts. Upon noticing the empty glass on the table you walked over and filled it to the rim, sensing the way Dain was looking at you. You ignored the heat of his body and stalked back to the bed, the distance between you two palpable.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Dain asked, his voice low and weary. He kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, but you noticed the way his hand stilled, the pen hovering mid-sentence.

You hesitated, the question hanging in the air between you. Why were you here? To tease him? To comfort him? Or because, despite all your jabs and jokes, you couldn’t stand to see him like this - broken and alone.

“So you wouldn’t be so lonesome, wingleader,” you teased, smirking as you held up the wine bottle. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t drown in all this paperwork. I hear it’s bad for your health.” To your delight, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“How was your day?” he asked, still not looking at you. As surprised as you were, you didn’t comment when he took a sip of his wine. Oh, he must be actually going crazy.

“Sucked. Yours?”

“Same.”

You chuckled, laying down on the bed. The blanket smelled exactly like him.

“I could help you out with something,” you pointed to the piles of books.

“No need, thanks.”

“You scared I would mess something up, wingleader?”

“Well, don’t you always?” he jabbed back and you pretended to be offended by his words, though on the inside you couldn’t be happier he was turning back to his normal self.

“Excuse me? Never.”

Dain looked over his shoulder at you and lifted his brows.

“If you say so.”

With a scowl, you turned away from him.

For an hour, you kept each other quiet company, the only sounds being papers turning, pen scribbling and fire cracking in the hearth. You pretended you didn’t notice how Dain stole glances at you, the same way he pretended he didn’t see you looking at him. He looked damn perfect in this light.

So you two just drank, too much of cowards to actually acknowledge the chemistry between you two that has been growing ever since you first met.

When his glass was empty, you were there to fill it again. Silently, you watched with interest the effect alcohol had on him. Gods, had he ever drunk before? You could see his reddened cheeks, how he leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He looked so unguarded and beautiful.

To speak for yourself, the wine made you drop your defenses. When you saw his perfectly messed up hair, you couldn’t help but get up and go touch it. His eyes opened at your touch and Dain just stared up at you as you sunk your fingers in his silky hair.

“You have pretty hair,” you mumbled, blush creeping up your cheeks. What the fuck were you doing? He was your wingleader and the fact that you two had flirted for two years changed nothing.

“Really?” he whispered. You watched his tan throat, the soft skin as it bobbed when he swallowed.

“Mhm…” you hummed softly, moving your fingers to his temples, then caressing his sharp cheekbones. Slowly, you moved to touch those gods' damned lips.

Suddenly, his hands shot up so fast as he gripped your wrists. You could do nothing but stare at him, hurt flashing across your features.

“What are we doing?” Dain asked, unguarded confusion etched into his face.

“What we should have done a long time ago.” You knew he was bluffing. The grip he had on your wrists disappeared the second you kissed him.

After a moment of hesitation, you felt his body melt. With one arm he lifted you on his lap, the other holding your face as he caressed your neck, kissing you with intensity you never even thought of, his beard scraping your already sensitive skin. You felt his warm hand splayed on your hip, his fingers moving in circular motions up your waist. You couldn’t help but shudder at his touch.

For a second, Dain pulled away. “Is this fine?” he asked quietly, misunderstanding your shiver. Immediately, you missed the heat of his powerful body.

“Yes.” you said, breathless. “More than fine, actually.” you grinned and that blissful smile on his face made you melt. His hand gripped your hair as he pulled you close again, his lips trailing a path down the side of your throat. A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips and you heard Dain groan into your skin.

You needed him. For almost two years, you were saving the spot in your bed just for him, even though you would never admit it out loud. Buckling your hips, you felt his bulge rub against you. The sweet ache in your lower belly grew, as did your body’s need for this man.

“Dain,” you whispered, moving against him again. Dain whimpered softly, his forehead resting between your breasts while his hands explored your ass and waist.

“Yes, cadet?” you felt him smiling into your skin. Letting out a huffed laugh, you reached for the hem of his tight black tunic and tried to pull it off his toned torso. Only with his help did you finally shrug it off of him.

You’ve seen him shirtless many times before but now you could finally touch those muscles, visible with his every move.

“Oh, nothing important, wingleader. Just wanted to ask if you put a sound shield up or if you want the whole quadrant to hear me scream your name.” You purred into his ear.

He immediately froze and you knew you would never forget the look he gave you. But then he smirked, that gods’ damned cocky smirk and you melted right there and then.

“It’s up. If you scream my name, I would prefer it to be just for me, love.”

Dain gripped your hips firmly, making your bodies grind against each other harder. With a swallowed gasp of pleasure you caressed his muscular shoulders, pecs and biceps, admiring the bulging veins on his arms. Dain trembled under your touch while soft whimpers escaped his wickedly perfect lips. Oh, how you loved to see him like this.

"Guess I finally found a way to break your precious rules, wingleader." you smirked. “Who would’ve guessed that all it takes is just a pretty face.”

“It’s probably past curfew, pretty face or not,” Dain breathed out and you stopped, giving him an unbelievable look. “I’m kidding, Y/N.” he laughed and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“I hope I make you think of other things than curfew.” you smirked at him, caressing the skin of his torso right above his buckle.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Dain asked. You shook your head and he leaned closer, his scent overpowering you as he whispered in your ear: “I’m thinking about bending you over this table and making you fucking melt.”

A delicious shiver ran down your spine at his words as heat pooled low in your belly. You had pushed and teased him for years, but never had you imagined Dain Aetos would ever say something like that—to you, no less. To anyone, really. Was it the wine? It must have been.

“Is that so?” you murmured, tilting your head back slightly as his lips traced a slow path along the curve of your throat. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your flesh as if he was barely restraining himself.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his breath warm against your skin. “But something tells me you wouldn’t make it that easy for me.”

You smirked, reaching for his belt, but he caught your wrists again, this time with a firm yet careful grip. His sandy-brown eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering within them. At least their spark was back.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. But you also saw the question in his face.

Your heart thudded against your ribs. This was Dain—your wingleader, your rival, your… friend? No, you had crossed that line long ago, hadn’t you? This moment had been simmering between you two for years, an unspoken tension in every sharp remark, every stolen glance, every touch that lasted a second too long.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your hands slipping free from his hold to cup his face. His stubble scratched against your palms, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

"Do your worst," you whispered, your voice trembling despite your bravado.

Dain froze, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn't, he exhaled sharply, a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmured, his voice low.

"Then show me," you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest.

Dain exhaled sharply, something in him snapping. In an instant, he stood, lifting you effortlessly onto the table, sending books and papers scattering to the floor. You barely had a moment to laugh before his lips crashed against yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Gods, you had wanted this.

And by the way Dain groaned into your mouth, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every inch of you, you knew he had wanted it too.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with heat and the sound of your mingled breaths. Dain's hands were everywhere - tangling in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs-and you couldn't get enough of him. His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving marks you knew you'd have to hide later. You didn't care. Let the whole quadrant see. Let them know that Dain Aetos, the stoic, rule-following wingleader, had finally let his walls crumble - for you.

"Dain," you gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed your collarbone. His name felt like a prayer on your lips, and he responded with a low growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

"You've been driving me insane for years," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and strained. "Every damn comment, every smirk, every time you looked at me like you knew exactly what you were doing... I wanted to hate you for it."

You laughed breathlessly, your fingers threading through his hair. "Hate me? Really?"

"Yes," he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and you could see the truth in them. "But I couldn't. Not when you were the only one who ever made me feel... alive."

Your heart stuttered at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless. Dain Aetos, the man who always seemed so composed, so in control, was laying himself bare before you. And it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I-"

He cut you off with a kiss, deep and desperate, as if he couldn't bear to hear what you were about to say. Maybe he was afraid it would break the spell, shatter the fragile moment you'd built between you. Or maybe he just didn't want to waste another second talking when he could be showing you exactly how he felt.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took you in. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've spent years trying not to look at you like this," he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite grasp. "I don't know how l managed to keep my hands off you for so long."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You're not doing a very good job of keeping them off me now," you teased, your voice laced with amusement.

Dain chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Good," he said, his hands sliding up to cup your face. "Because I don't plan on stopping."

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to kiss and tease your skin. His hands moved lower, undoing the fastenings of your pants and sliding them down your legs. You kicked them off, your heart racing as he looked at you, his eyes filled with desire as he caressed your thighs.

You arched into his touch, your fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He groaned against your mouth, his hips pressing into yours as you finally freed him from the confines of his pants.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed you back onto the table. You laughed, the sound breathless and wild, as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart.

A gasp escaped your throat as his lips trailed down your chest, his tongue teasing your breasts. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he smirked, that infuriating, cocky smirk that had driven you crazy for years, and you knew there was no turning back.

You gasped as his mouth found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his teeth grazing lightly before he kissed his way higher. The scratch of his stubble against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and the warmth of his breath made your pulse race. You could smell the faint scent of wine on him, mingling with the earthy aroma of leather and sweat that clung to his skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue flicked against you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it was no use. Dain knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn't going to stop until you were completely undone.

"Dain," you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth as the pressure built inside you. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. And then, with one final flick of his tongue, you shattered, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Dain didn't give you a moment to recover. His hands gripped your hips again as he changed his position, bending you over the table - just like he promised.

His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, sending shivers down your body. You could feel the heat of him pressing against you, his arousal evident as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back.

"Dain," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. His name felt like a plea, a prayer, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through your entire being.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted this," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His hands slid up your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before settling on your shoulders. He pressed you down gently but firmly, your chest meeting the cool surface of the table as he positioned himself behind you.

You gasped as you felt him, hard and eager, pressing against you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this - wanted him - more than anything.

"Don't you dare," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. Dain laughed, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

"Good," he said, his voice low. And then he was pushing into you, slowly, deliberately, giving you time to adjust to the feel of him. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway, a soft, desperate sound that only seemed to spur him on.

Dain groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he buried himself to the hilt. For a moment, he stayed still, his forehead resting against your back as he fought for control. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled with the effort of holding back.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice breaking. You needed him to move, to give you the release you so desperately craved. And then he did, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface of the table as Dain set a relentless pace. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building the pressure inside you until you thought you might explode.

"You feel so good," Dain growled, his voice strained. His hands moved from your hips to your shoulders, pulling you up so your back was pressed against his chest. His lips found your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as he continued to move inside you.

You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you turned your head to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Dain groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering as he lost himself in the feel of you.

"Y/N," he gasped, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your neck. "I'm close."

"Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

Dain's hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. You cried out, your body tightening around him as pleasure ripped through you.

Dain followed you over the edge, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside you. He held you tightly, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he rode out the waves of his release.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft crackling of the fire and the sound of your mingled breaths. He scooped you into his arms and moved you to his bed. Dain's arms were wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the faint thud of his heartbeat, and the way his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of moments ago, and yet it felt just as profound.

For years, you’d teased him, pushed him, and now… now you were here, in his arms, wondering if you’d crossed a line you could never uncross.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary when the weight of what had just happened hung so palpably in the air. But eventually, Dain broke the silence, his voice low and rough, yet softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Y/N," he began, his fingers stilling on your arm. "This... changes everything."

You turned slightly in his arms, enough to meet his gaze. His sandy-brown eyes were darker now, the usual sharpness softened by something you couldn't quite name. Vulnerability, maybe. Or fear. You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and felt him lean into your touch.

"I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "But maybe it's a change we both needed."

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh, and pulled you closer. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, you just breathed together, the rhythm steady and grounding.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "How to be... this. With you."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words. This was Dain - your wingleader, your rival, the man who always seemed so unshakable - laid bare before you. And it was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

"You don't have to figure it out right now," you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "We can take it one day at a time. One moment at a time."

He nodded, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring your words. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of that familiar spark, the one you'd missed so much. "You always know what to say, don't you?" he murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you teased, grinning when he rolled his eyes. But the smile he gave you in return was genuine, and it made your chest tighten.

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. The world outside - the quadrant, the rules, the expectations - felt far away, like it couldn't touch you here. And maybe, just for tonight, it couldn't.

But as the fire began to die down and the room grew cooler, reality started to creep back in. You felt Dain shift beside you, his hand tightening around yours.

"We should probably get some sleep," he said reluctantly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Tomorrow's going to be... complicated."

You nodded, though the thought of leaving his arms was almost unbearable. "Yeah," you agreed quietly. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch. It wasn't just desire or affection - it was trust. And maybe, just maybe, something more.

"Together," he echoed, his voice firm despite the weariness in it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Get some rest, Y/N. I'll be here when you wake up."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. As you settled back into the bed, his arms wrapping around you once more, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known in years. This wasn't the end of something - it was the beginning. And whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you'd face them together.

Because Dain Aetos was no longer just your wingleader, your rival, or your friend. He was yours, and you were his. And nothing would ever be the same again.

[eviesaurusrex]

tale as old as time | X. Riorson

Xaden Riorson x Aurelia Melgren (OC)

summary: Usually, he’s the dangerous, unapproachable wingleader in public, but since a few days, Xaden Riorson can’t bare to be apart from Aurelia Melgren.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none really, mentions of past injuries, dragons, Xaden being touch-starved after admitting his feelings, Xaden’s shadows, Tairn being Tairn, two idiots in love, childhood friends-to-lovers, not entirely proofread

author’s note: Lately, I really am all over the place with my writing for fandoms lol. This could turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested—I can also switch this up into a typical reader-insert starring YN, just let me know!

divider by @enchanthings-a

It started right after Threshing.

First, she almost didn’t heed it no mind, not even realizing a change in his daily routines. Sometimes, she felt his eyes lingering on her whenever they passed one another in the hallways of Basgiath on their way to classes or formation in the morning. Other times, she felt him walking closely next to her, the backs of their hands brushing against one another, letting sparks of electricity travel through her bones, dancing on her skin.

All of those incidents, Aurelia categorized as mere blips in reality—undoubtedly enjoying them, but knowing they would not be present for the remainder of their days at the War College.

But then, the shadows started to act up.

Rea knew how masterfully Xaden wielded his signet, being in total control of it; she had watched him train with Garrick and the others and had even gotten a taste of his skills herself. So, for them to act up all of a sudden as soon as she was near a particularly dark corner?

Highly unlikely.

The day on which she woke up with one of those shadowy, smoky tendrils almost lovingly wrapped around her wrist like a delicate bracelet? She knew something had shifted, that something was certainly different than prior to Threshing. And she started to notice more and more:

Xaden casually walking down the hallway of her dorm floor by utter coincidence when she opened her door to head out for breakfast? The way his hand almost naturally found its spot on the small of her back, resting heavily and comfortingly there until they reached the door to the dining hall, his fingers pressing softly into the fabric of her uniform before letting go?

His long-lingering glances across the tables atop the leader platform now so obvious, she had to be blind (or dead) not to notice them?

The way they sat in comfortable silence on the parapet on a particularly starry night because he knew how much she loved stargazing? Hands brushing against one another on the withered stone, one finger wrapped around the other’s? The heavy feeling of his gaze on her profile while she watched the spectacle in the dark-tinted sky in awe and wonder?

She really had to be blind not to see it.

On this particular morning, Aurelia cradled a cup of coffee between both her hands, eyes focused on the dark-haired wingleader as he ate his scrambled eggs while being in deep conversation with Garrick. Taking a revitalizing sip, she patiently waited, smiling softly as Tairn seemed to wake up and growled in her mind. “Your thoughts of the wingleader disturbed my sleep, Stormy One. Keep this up, and I might not be inclined to continue to tolerate him near me.” The Melgren rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t wager my marital bliss because I keep on fantasizing about incinerating the rider of my mate,” she shot back with a humorous tone down their bond, still letting her smile like a fool.

It was exhilarating to be chosen by a dragon, and Aurelia was sure she would keep on grinning like an idiot until the day of her last ride.

The black dragon huffed into her mind. “First: The bond of mates is far more superior to the human concept of marriage, girl. And second: Do not dare think of your last flight—already. We have years upon years, Stormy One. Your skills are too refined to be wasted on an early death. Instead, continue to dream of the rider who is now staring at you—it’s far less insulting.” It was almost as if Tairn chuckled deeply as her eyes fell on Xaden again, watching his onyx eyes soften ever so slightly as he reveled in the attention she granted him.

A small smile danced across her lips as she took another sip of her cooling coffee, her eyes never leaving his handsome face, remembering his whispered words after Threshing when the healers had worked on her bruised and battered body, thinking she wasn’t conscious enough to recall any of it. Until the day before, she had accounted those words to the delirious state she had been in due to the blood loss, but now, with the shadows accompanying her and the expression on his face? The evidence of his shift in person toward her? Aurelia was sure she didn’t dream up his confession.

They held each other’s gazes locked until most of the cadets had left for classes and training, and only then did the woman rise and leave for Battle Brief herself, waiting for him in the hallway. Leaning against a wall, she had her arms crossed loosely in front of her black-clad chest, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he finally made his way out as well, spotting her instantly. Xaden walked over to her with long, purposeful strides, graceful and lethal as ever, fingers gently twitching as his stare fell from her eyes, raking over the lower part of her face.

“How are you feeling? Is the soreness bearable?”

His question was asked quietly, his voice soft and filled with a warmth barely anyone would receive within these walls, and that knowledge made the butterflies in her stomach whirl like a tornado. He had always been soft to her, ever since their first meeting as children, and he had continued to be like that until they had been separated by fate. Perhaps he still was the boy she once knew—just buried beneath everything he had to be for everyone else.

“Good. Better. It still somewhat aches when I get up too fast, but other than that…” She trailed off when his hand crept closer and touched the spot right next to her navel where she had been run through with a sword during Threshing, a scar now left behind. “But…,” she started again, making him look her directly in the eyes, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. “I would feel much better if you’d explain this.” And with that, she pulled one of her arms out of their hold across her chest, holding up the wrist with the shadow still in place.

She watched Xaden swallow, eyes lingering on the black, translucent bracelet before he stared down at her again. A hand rose and softly wrapped itself around her fingers, pulling her hand close until it landed on his chest, right above his steadily beating heart. It pushed all the air out of her lungs; her breath hitched as she witnessed the vulnerability the fearsome wingleader showed her at this particular moment.

Xaden watched her intently as he murmured: “Do you mind it? Do they… disgust you? Bother you?” Without having to think about it, Aurelia slowly shook her head, never leaving him out of sight. “Why would you think that? I think they’re beautiful. Immaculate. Watching you wield them is like watching art,” she confessed, still slightly breathless, eyes wide with curiosity and… doubt. Did she never show him what she thought about him, about his talents and skills? Perhaps it had been drowned out by everything happening around them, and a pang of guilt settled in her chest. “Art, hm?” Blinking, Aurelia watched his smile grow, and the guilt lessened for now, making her slap his broad shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease me about my choice of words.”

The Riorson chuckled quietly before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his high-towering form. “So, you want an explanation?” His voice had turned into a raspy whisper, and all Aurelia could do was to nod, eyes enthralled by his gaze, her heart beating against her ribcage, trying to escape. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right, Rea, day and night, when I’m here and when I’m not. I wanted to feel close to you at all times, reminding myself every hour of the day that you’re still here, with me.” The fingers pressed against his chest gripped onto his uniform, burying themselves into the midnight black fabric, holding herself up at his steady confession. “Threshing made me realize something I have forgotten for a while: I cannot lose you. I cannot live without you, Aurelia Melgren. If you wouldn’t have made it, it’s safe to say I would have succumbed alongside you. You…” He took a steadying breath with closed eyes before he bent at his waist, coming closer and closer until their foreheads were gently pressed to one another, onyx black crashed against periwinkle blue.

“You are the keeper of all that I feel, of all that I am. One word and I will never speak of it again. One word and I will lock everything away, remaining your friend as I have always been. But…” And with that, he pulled her even closer. “But if your feelings have changed over the years and I was too stupid or blind to see it… Please, tell me and put me out of this… this… misery.” His voice broke at the last word, and it almost hurt her physically to hear his suffering she never knew about.

When has everything between them changed? Aurelia knew when it had changed for her—years ago during a sparring session with him and Garrick back in Aretia when no one had thought about needing to separate. Yes, her father never liked her association with the Riorson’s, but her mother had been from Tyrrendor and called Fen Riorson one of her oldest friends. And on that day, when Xaden had beamed at her proudly for shooting her first arrow successfully, she had known and protected that little secret of hers until… today.

Softly, almost lovingly, Aurelia let the tip of her nose rub against his, staring into his deep eyes and seeing all the emotions she had always hoped to witness on his face, swimming there, freely visible. “Perhaps stupid, perhaps blind, perhaps a bit of both,” the Melgren chuckled, making him roll his eyes at her but turning serious for this particular moment. “You were never just a friend to me, Xaden. You were never just my most trusted companion and confidant—there was always something different between us. I felt… safe with you, protected even. I could be who I was, not the one others desperately wanted me to be. I was… free. You gave me freedom.”

And freedom was the one thing Aurelia had longed for her entire life.

Xaden stared at her unmoving; he almost didn’t dare to breathe when one of her hands cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“I have always loved you, Xaden Riorson, and I will always love you until my last dying breath as a dragon rider. If you’ll have me…—”

She couldn’t ask the question, not with his lips crashing against hers without restraint, without fear. He was as wild in his claim as he was in his fight, making her his then and there, incinerating every trace of every other man she had allowed to touch her in her life. He unraveled her in a dark corner and put her back together, infusing her with love, passion, and freedom with every move of his lips, with ever raspy sound escaping his throat when her fingers tangled themselves in his dark strands, tucking him closer and closer, until they where almost one.

With a gasp for air, Xaden parted with a heavy breath, chest heaving and heart galloping under the palm of her hand. “If I could, I would make you a Riorson on the spot,” he mumbled, lips pressing kisses to her cheeks and her swollen lips with utmost tenderness. “Slow your dragons, love,” Aurelia’s chuckled words followed. “Let us survive this death sentence of a War College first before we enter a far less superior bond they will most definitely mock.” The man started to grin at her words, pulling her close into his chest. “Did you already get that lecture, hm?” Nodding, she gently pushed back his hair, trying to make it presentable again. “Oh, I have. And I imagine there will be more coming sooner rather than later now that we…” She didn’t dare say the words, but Xaden wasn’t as hesitant—not in the slightest.

“Now that we are in a relationship, mo chroi? You can say it—the title won’t bite you.” Shoving him away, Aurelia showed him her tongue, but letting him take her hand in his, allowing him to hold onto it. “Whatever. Those dragons are menaces, and I’m afraid he will take over the fatherly talk in lack of a present father to do that. And I’m not sure what alternative I would prefer.” As if Tairn had only waited to share his input, his voice echoed through her mind. “I do not know what you dare to imply there, Stormy One, but mind you, I would only propose exceptional measures in order not to procreate ahead of your time. We have goals to accomplish, rider, battles to win, wars to end. No time for… frolicking with your shadow wielder.”

She couldn’t hold back the laugh at the growled words and let go of Xaden’s hand in order to wrap her arm around his waist, claiming her spot at his side, his arm instinctively snaking around her shoulders. “Tairn warned me not to frolic with you, shadow wielder,” she explained at his cocked eyebrow and smiled with closed eyes as he bent down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I will keep that in mind, but don’t you think I won’t put my hands on you, Stormy One.”

Walking beside him felt good. Freeing. Empowering. It got into her head, she thought, but it did not matter. She had rarely felt this wonderful.

“Has Sgaeyl spilled Tairn’s secret?” Xaden chuckled humorously as they walked the empty hallways toward Battle Brief. “She did—unintentionally, I think. But it is fitting. You are a tornado, a force of nature to be reckoned with. And with that dragon at your side now? With me? We will be unstoppable, love.” Teasingly, Rea nudged his hip with hers as they stopped in front of the massive double doors leading into the largest classroom Basgiath offered. “Do not over-exaggerate, Xaden darling. You sound like you have an appetite for conquering the world,” she whispered as he bent down again, lips ghosting over hers. “Oh, I have an appetite for many things, mo chroi. And I’ll show you each and every single one of them.”

Kissing Xaden, Aurelia silenced him with flushing cheeks before opening the door to slip inside the now-settling-down cadets. She intended to make her way down toward her usual seat next to her best friend, Merope. Xaden had different plans, though.

His hand snatched hers, and without uttering another word, the tall man tugged her after him, making his row scoot up a seat to create room for her next to Garrick, who watched the interaction with gleaming interest. His cheeky grin was oh so prominent, Aurelia hit his cheek with the flat side of her quill, shaking her head slowly, almost threateningly. “Don’t you dare utter a single word,” she whisper-hissed at him, cocking an eyebrow when he dared to open his mouth, watching him reconsider his next move. “I just wanted to say I told you so, but whatever.” Grinning triumphantly, Garrick winked at her, chuckling when her hand hit him multiple times on his shoulder. “You are unbelievable,” was all she huffed in slight annoyance, forcing herself to look in front, trying to ignore all the stares and the whispers at her new spot. They seemed to increase in volume when everyone bore witness to Xaden Riorson moving his hand in her direction, grabbing her thigh under the small table each seat had sat in front of it, squeezing it tenderly, and leaning in her direction.

“Forget about them, all of them. It doesn’t matter what they think, okay?” He knew her too well, but in their case, she couldn’t give a fuck. Leaning closer herself, Aurelia pressed a lingering kiss to his jawline—it was the only part of his handsome face she could reach without making a fool out of herself—and smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “You won’t get rid of me that easy, Riorson,” the Melgren promised, making him hum in contentment, his hand settling heavily on her thigh—and it would stay there for the remainder of this class and every other they shared.

“I intend to keep you, Melgren. I intend to keep you for a very long time.”

Thank you all for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog. Tell me your thoughts about this fic and/or ideas for potential new fanfictions ♡

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet Part 2

Summary: Violet Sorrengail enters the Quadrant and bonds Tairn, leading to angst with a happy ending as requested by anonymous (though tbh it's less angst and more just Xaden being stressed and sulking😅)

Set during Fourth Wing but contains spoilers for Iron Flame

Part 1

By the start of third year, everyone knows Xaden and you are inseparable.

You've made it through all the obstacles of first and second year together, including the unpleasantries of RSC, your love only growing stronger. The interrogation training made him realize that not telling you about the venin and the revolution doesn't equate keeping you safe — there's a huge target on your back just for being with him, regardless of how much or little you know. So after RSC was done, when you sat in his room, patching each other up, he finally caved, told you what his dad's rebellion really was about, the fight him and the other marked ones are continuing in secret.

You took it better than he'd dared to hope, better than he would have in your place. But then, that's you. Always optimistic, never mad at him for long.

It makes him feel worse about the things he's still keeping from you.

The idea of letting you know about his second signet fills him with equal parts terror and guilt. He loathes hiding such an essential part of himself from you, but Sgaeyl has drilled it into him that no one can ever know, not even you. Still, sometimes he wonders what you would make of it. Xaden likes to think you wouldn't mind, would simply accept it like you accepted every other dark part of him.

He hasn't told you about Aretia being rebuilt, either. Someday he'll take you there and show you, if the gods are good. Until then, he has hinted that there is more that he can't tell, details that would endanger too many lives to be spoken aloud here and now.

You understand, like you always do.

Part of Xaden still thinks he doesn't deserve you — probably always will think so — but the rest of him doesn't care. Deserved or not, you're his, and thanks to your gentle patience, he's learning how to trust again.

It's still hard to open up about the painful details of the apostasy, but in the week of leisure and celebration leading up to Conscription Day, he tells you the price General Sorrengail has named for letting the marked ones into the quadrant: keeping her youngest daughter, who's about to join the quadrant herself, alive.

True to your nature, you immediately promise to help Xaden with that task in any way you can. Despite his assurance that it's not necessary, he's glad for the reminder that you will always have his back.

And thank gods for that, because this year is promising to be more stressful than ever.

Between classes, his new duties as Wingleader, and keeping the marked first-years as well as their declared enemy alive, he's running himself ragged. Being his executive officer, you take as much of the leadership work from him as possible, which barely allows him the time to organize weapons runs.

It doesn't help that pretty much every marked one in the quadrant would welcome Sorrengail's death with open arms. Xaden doesn't feel like informing all of them that letting her live is the price for them being given the chance to live, so he keeps them in line by telling them he will handle the matter. They're not happy about it, but they respect him too much to disobey.

Then Threshing comes around, and everything gets worse.

Being a third-year, it should have been a day like any other for him. Patrolling the training grounds, watching foolish first-years get themselves killed and the more competent ones be chosen by dragons — Threshing isn't all that exciting seen from the other side. His pulse speeds a little when he thinks of his foster brother amidst all those unbonded dragons, but Liam is well prepared; Xaden made sure of that himself. He'll be fine.

Sorrengail on the other hand... Well, it's not his problem whether or not she bonds a dragon. He's supposed to keep her alive, but that doesn't mean he has to help her thrive. Not that there's anything he could do, anyway. The dragons do what they want, regardless of how the humans around feel about it — a fact of which Xaden soon gets an unfriendly reminder when that fucking monstrosity Sgaeyl calls a mate shows up and picks Sorrengail of all people. Not that he begrudges her bonding a dragon — he has to admit she's brave for someone so delicate, and her fight against Barlowe and those other dimwits was quite impressive to watch. He can respect her for making it this far. But why, oh why did it have to be Tairn she bonded?

Calling this development a complication would be an understatement, but he can't think of a better word when discussing the matter with you that evening. Not just that he'll die if that damned first-year gets herself killed — that doesn't make much of a difference, since his deal with the General already meant he might well lose his head if he fails at keeping Violet alive.

No, the bigger issue is that Sgaeyl and Tairn can't be apart for long. How is he supposed to go about secret revolution business with Sorrengail acting as a chain and ball around his leg?

He's almost inclined to believe this is a scheme leadership has contrived to keep him under their thumb, but Sgaeyl says her mate is on their side. That doesn't make Xaden feel any better, though. He wouldn't want his life connected to that of any first-year, least of all the Sorrengail girl. He knows what General Sorrengail did wasn't Violet's fault, but she's a constant reminder of it nonetheless.

Xaden kicks his desk. "This is the fucking worst."

"I know it sucks, but it's not the end of the world," you try to comfort him. Rising from where you'd been sitting cross-legged on his bed, you come up behind him to wrap him in a hug. "We just have to make sure she stays alive, then it'll be fine."

Xaden turns to perch on the edge of the desk, pulling you to stand between his legs so he can rest his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your waist. "Dying is the least of my worries," he says. "If she finds out what we've been doing, we're all dead, you included."

"You don't know that. Maybe she'll understand that we're doing the right thing. From what I've seen, she seems like a good person."

Xaden would like to disagree, but unfortunately, he can't. He thinks of Parapet, when she'd traded boots with another first-year she'd only just met, of the meeting under the tree she kept quiet about. So she's compassionate, fine. Lots of good that'll do them if she gets suspicious, which she will, considering her attitude toward the marked ones. They have to be more careful than ever from now on.

He sighs and hides his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. Your hand is in his hair, scritching his scalp the way he likes, but with this new heap of problems to face, not even that can soothe him.

"I should have killed her when I had the chance," he grumbles.

He's not usually one to waste time dwelling on past mistakes, but when he thinks of all the stress he could have spared himself...

"Her mother would have had your head for that," you remind him. "And that of every other marked one, too, probably."

Xaden sighs again. "I know."

"At least you won't have to worry about how to keep the others from killing her anymore now."

A tiny smile tugs on the corner of Xaden's mouth. "Leave it to you to find a plus side to this disaster."

"You're welcome." You turn your head to press a kiss into his hair, and Xaden swears he can feel the soft smile on your lips as you teasingly ask, "Now are you ready to start planning how we should deal with this? Or should I take care of the thinking while you continue to sulk?"

"I'm not sulking." But he sits up straight, runs a hand over his face and thinks. "I guess some extra hand-to-hand training for Sorrengail would be a good start. I'll ask Imogen or Garrick to take care of that. And I thought about moving Liam to her squad to keep an eye on her, but Garrick thinks we should give her the chance to handle herself before taking drastic measures like that."

He pauses, waiting for your opinion.

"Hmm, I don't know. Letting her handle herself is all nice and well in theory, but let's not forget that if she fails to protect herself, it could end with you dead."

"Good point. I'll think it over again tomorrow," he decides. "It's too late to do anything today anyway, and we've got a load of daggers to deliver tomorrow. The Sorrengail issue will have to wait until we're back."

Agreeing that that's a good plan, you drag Xaden to bed, insisting he needs a good night's sleep if he wants to be in shape the following day.

He should have moved Liam into Second Squad the moment Threshing was done, Xaden thinks, cursing as he races down the hall. Returning from the weapons run, they had barely landed on the flight field when Tairn had alerted Sgaeyl that his rider was being attacked. Not that having Liam in her squad would have prevented this; it's the middle of the fucking night.

Bodhi, Garrick, and you are close on his heels, following into the room as he's squeezing the life from the assailants. Leaving the disposal of the bodies to you guys, Xaden convinces Sorrengail to tell him how the hell they got into her room. Like it or not, they're a team now. They'll have to learn to work together if they want to survive.

On the walk back to his room, you're far from your usual bubbly self, pensive and quiet in a way Xaden doesn't like.

"That was too close," you whisper, still clinging to his hand while he closes the door behind you. "If we'd gotten back just a few minutes later you could have been dead."

Xaden wraps his arms around you, holding your head against his chest so you can hear the strong beat of his heart. "Yeah, but I'm not. I'm okay."

You're trembling in his arms. "I almost lost you, just like that. I can't— I can't lose you!"

"Shh, I know. You won't lose me. We'll ask Liam to protect Sorrengail from now on so nothing like this can happen again."

"I could do it," you offer, lifting your head to look at him. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears. "Liam is strong, but he's just a first-year. I could do it better."

"I don't doubt that, sweetheart, but Liam being a first-year is kind of the point. He can be glued to her side all day, unlike a third-year like you. Not to mention that you're my executive officer. It wouldn't look good for you to be fussing over one of our first-years."

You nod, aware he's right, but he can tell you're still upset.

He has rarely seen you this shaken, but then, it's not everyday that he brushes death like this. And it really is unsettling, to think he could randomly drop dead without warning if something happens to Sorrengail, that he could be killed by someone not even in the same place as him. He refuses to let it freak him out, though. It won't come to that. The whole she dies, he dies-thing is just a theory, anyway. Technically, Tairn — and thereby Sgaeyl — could survive her death, even if it admittedly is unlikely.

"I'm alright," he promises. "Not looking forward to putting a fellow Wingleader on trial for violating the Codex, but alright."

That gets your attention. "A Wingleader?"

"Yeah. Sorrengail said it was Amber Mavis who let the unbonded into her room."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. So let's get some sleep. It's going to be one hell of a day tomorrow."

The news about the attack cause an uproar as expected, and, also as expected, Sorrengail is less than thrilled to be assigned Liam as a bodyguard. Too bad for her. She'll learn to appreciate him the next time someone is out to kill her. Even if she doesn't, Xaden doesn't give a damn. He'd like to stay alive, thank you very much.

Once you get over the shock of truly realizing how easily Xaden could die because of the mated dragons, you make it your mission to befriend Violet. Xaden has to admit it's fun to watch you try. Sorrengail clearly doesn't know what to think of you. The fact that you are Xaden's girlfriend is enough to make her wary of you, but he knows from experience that it's impossible to not like you. And though you associate with marked ones, you aren't one, which serves to make her a little less prejudiced against you.

Between you and Liam, Xaden is sure you'll win her over in no time.

While Imogen oversees Sorrengail's training in the weight room, you've taken it upon yourself to give her additional lessons in hand-to-hand combat, taking her to the mat whenever your schedule allows it. Hesitant as she first seemed to accept your offer to train with her, she never fails to show up for your sessions. Watching from the sidelines, Xaden can already see the first improvements. More often than not, the other first-years from Violet's squad are hanging around too, and you end up showing them new techniques too.

When Xaden asks if it's not too much, training first-years on top of all your other obligations, you laugh and tell him it's actually kind of relaxing — fun. You're a weirdo. But you're his weirdo, and if you're happy, Xaden is happy too. He certainly isn't about to complain; if Fourth Wing wants to win this year's War Games, the first-years need all the training they can get.

It's no surprise how much they all like you — you're the friendliest third-year there is by far, probably the friendliest there has ever been, and much more patient with them than their own older squad mates. Not to mention you're an absolute badass, kicking even Liam's ass during those sparring sessions. Xaden loves watching it. Not only is it incredibly hot to watch you show off for the first-years, it also makes him feel all mushy to see you getting along with his brother.

"We should tell her," Liam says one night, standing in Xaden's room after Violet has gone to bed. "About what's out there. About Brennan being alive."

"Absolutely not." Xaden refuses to even consider it. "Even if she believes us, we don't know what she'd do with that information. It's too great a risk."

To Xaden's surprise, you take Liam's side. "No, it's not. With how smart she is, she'll realize something's going on eventually, and it'd be better if she found out from us rather than figuring it out herself."

"What we should be doing is make sure she doesn't figure it out," he argues.

"Vi isn't our enemy, Xaden. She's nothing like her mother."

Xaden grits his teeth. "I know that, but—"

"She deserves to know that her brother is alive," Liam interrupts from his other side.

"If she tells anyone, he won't be for much longer."

"Which is exactly why she won't tell!"

Xaden sighs. It's rare for Liam to disagree with him like this, but when it does happen, he's almost as hardheaded as Xaden himself, and to make matters worse, the two of you are ganging up on him. Xaden knows he's just being stubborn at this point, overly cautious, maybe even paranoid. But with so many lives at stake, he has to be.

"Come on," you push, using that firm but gentle tone he's used to hearing from you when dealing with scared first-years. "You're the one who told her you need to start trusting each other."

"With our lives, yeah. But not with this."

"She could help us," Liam insists. "She has the second-biggest dragon on the Continent, in case you forgot."

"She also has a memory reader for a best friend," Xaden points out, "who will most definitely go running to his daddy the second he gets the idea we're doing anything that's even a little against his precious rules. Are you really that eager to die?"

Liam rolls his eyes. "Oh, forget Aetos. Vi is sick and tired of his overprotective ass anyway. If we explain the situation to her, she'll keep away from him so he won't find out."

Once again, Xaden shakes his head.

You take his hand, looking at him with so many emotions plain on your face it makes him want to give in. "Please, Xaden. I don't like lying to our friend."

Oh gods, is that what Sorrengail has become? A friend? He scowls when he realizes it's true. How the hell did that happen?

"We're not lying," he reasons. "We're just keeping some things from her."

"Call it what you want, I don't like it. You've told me the truth too, despite having no clue how I would react."

"That's different."

"Yes, but she still deserves to know. She'll choose to do the right thing, I'm sure." Before he can reply, you add, "If it goes badly, we can always have Imogen erase the conversation from her memory, and then I promise we'll never bring it up again."

Xaden sighs, looking from you to Liam and back. With both of you giving him that pleading look, he simply can't say no. "Fine."

Xaden leaves that conversation to you and Liam. While he and Violet have made a sort of peace, the trust between them is still wonky, and he feels she'll take the truth better if it comes from the two of you rather than him.

He waits in the hall with Imogen — just in case — for what feels like ages. Finally the door to Sorrengail's room opens, and the three of you emerge. Violet seems distressed but calm, which is a good sign.

"They told you everything?" Xaden asks her.

A tense nod. What you told her isn't actually everything of course, but the most crucial facts. Who the real enemy is, how you all are trying to help people. He doesn't ask how you managed to convince her; all that matters is that she believes the truth.

"And? Are you in?"

"I'm in."

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

Xaden’s character development across Fourth Wing and Iron Flame is actually brilliant.

He goes from the cold, mysterious, emotionally unavailable wingleader who shrouds himself in darkness and has strong desire to murder Violet, to a guy so pathetically in love with her that he killed all the people threatening her without a second thought, flew halfway across the kingdom to see her because she’d been away from him for three days, said ‘fuck you’ to the revolution he gave his life to in order to save her, and turned into the one thing he hated the most so that she could have a chance to live. Insane growth of emotional maturity, I’m proud of him honestly.

His communication skills could probably still use work, but he’s getting there. He’s also only 23, carrying the weight of the world on his beautiful shoulders, and his mental health is fully dependant on whether or not Violet loves him, so you can’t really blame him for being completely devoted to her.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 39. A Familiar Face

Summary: Dahlia's second year is officially underway with Conscription Day finally here. A new year, new cadets, and a familiar face she wasn't expecting to see amongst the new first years. Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Another year, another Conscription Day. It was crazy to think one year ago that was me. How different my life was this time last year. Though some things were still the same. I was still a disappointment, if not a bigger one to my family. Especially with the company I now kept. And especially after Garrick’s very public show of affection towards me. The one upside to that was Dain now avoided me completely.

”Ready for your first duties as Squad Leader?” Garrick teases as we walk across the courtyard to the Parapet.

”That sounds so…. weird. Not sure who thought it was a good idea to give me Squad Leader.” I say with a grimace.

I had been so sure any leadership opportunities were off the cards for me due to my father overseeing Basgiath. But clearly he had no say on the matter. My name had been clearly marked as Xaden’s replacement for the year as he stood up to Wingleader.

”Same person who decided to make Bodhi an Executive Officer.” He points out.

Bodhi deserved it though. He had stood up massively in War Games. Xaden had split the Squad into attacking and defending and sadly had lost our squads executive officer in an attack. Bodhi had taken over instantly, defending our outpost with ease. He had more than earned his spot.

”Clearly whoever is making these choices needs to be evaluated. Somehow you got section leader.” I tease back.

”Ouch. Good to see you’re still as ruthless as before.”

One of the things that was vastly different to last year. Last year when I had crossed the parapet and given my name, Garrick had hated me for it. Wanted nothing to do with me. And I had wanted nothing to do with him. If I could tell my past self they’d be walking across the courtyard with his hand on their lower back and be in a relationship with him, they’d laugh at me.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into.” Bodhi adds as we get into ear shot.

“And you are relieved of your duties.” I say, cutting Garrick off as I walk up to Bodhi. “I’ll find you two later.”

Garrick goes to object, but Bodhi pushes his shoulder, ushering him back into the crowd of cadets. Ever since graduation Bodhi had been pushing Garrick’s buttons more than normal. The whole day after he’d been boasting about winning the bet against Imogen. He had bet we’d be together before the end of my first year. Which he’d technically won by just a few hours. But Garrick had also been doing it back to him, especially after he found out Bodhi had accompanied me to Chantara to get the new tattoo that adorned my right forearm. To be fair, Bodhi had no idea what I’d been planning to do. He was just along for the ride. And in my defence, Garrick had been out doing something with Xaden. So the only logical choice to take with me was Bodhi. Bodhi was convinced Garrick thought it was partly his idea with how he was acting, but honestly Garrick didn’t care I’d gotten the tattoo. He just enjoyed watching Bodhi squirm.

Cadet after cadet crosses the parapet. All of them ready to take on the Quadrant. Though most of them wouldn’t make it to the end. Even once you bond a dragon you aren’t guaranteed to stay alive. We’d lost a lot of second and even third years in War Games. Due to it Garrick had been moved to Flame Section for his Section Leader role along with many other moves within the Wing’s.

A cadet practically jumps off the parapet, turning around quickly as they draw a dagger. My eyes go wide as I take in the familiar brown and silver hair, styled into a braided crown. Holy shit. Violet Sorrengail. What the hell was she doing here? Dain is going to lose it when he realises she’s here. Seconds later a far larger cadet halts on the parapet as her dagger pushes into his breaches, dangerously close to his balls. Never thought I’d see the day where Violet would hold a guy three times her size at knife point.

”I think. I’ll be safe. For right. Now.” She gets out between ragged breaths.

”Will you?” The blonde haired cadet seethes as he looks down at her with piercing eyes. He was going to be an issue.

Violet starts reciting the codex with ease. Of course she would know that thing off by heart.

”I don’t give a shit!” He roars, stepping forward as Violet’s dagger slices into his breeches.

”Name?” The girl keeping roll asks, sounding completely unphased by the altercation happening in front of us. “You’re pretty small for a rider, but it looks like you made it.”

”Violet Sorrengail. And before you ask, yes, I’m that Sorrengail.” She says with slight irritation. Clearly she’d been asked that question multiple times before.

”Not surprised with that manoeuvre,” She says as she notes down her name. “And what’s your name?” Directing her question to the cadet Violet still holds at knife point.

”Jack. Barlow.” He growls out, his attention still fully on Violet.

”Well, Jack,” I start as I push off the wall, Violet turning her head towards me, her eyes going wide as she realises who I am. Her eyes trailing over my uniform and noting the patches on my jacket. “Cadet Sorrengail has you by the actual balls here, in more ways than one. She’s right. Regs state that there’s nothing but respect among riders at formation. You want to kill her, you’ll have to do it in the sparring ring or on your own time. That is, if she decides to let you off the parapet. Because technically, you’re not on the grounds yet, so you are not a cadet. She is.”

Jack turns his piercing blue eyes to me, his eyes flicking down to where my name is sewn onto my uniform. “And if I decide to snap her neck the second I step down?” He growls, the look in his eyes telling me he would definitely do it.

”Then you get to meet the dragons early,” The other girls answers, her tone bland. “We don’t wait for trials around here. We just execute.”

I take a step towards Violet, putting myself behind her right shoulder. “What’s it going to be, Sorrengail? You going to have Jack here start as a eunuch?”

No one else would notice it, but I see her falter. See her question what she’s actually doing. She was trained to be a scribe. Not a rider. I doubt she’d even picked up a blade till a few months ago. What the hell happened in the year Dain and I were gone?

”Are you going to follow the rules?” She asks Jack, tightening her grip on the dagger.

”Guess I don’t have a choice.” He sneers at her, before raising his hands in defeat.

She steps back, lowering her dagger to let him by. Jack steps down into the courtyard, making him an official cadet of the riders quadrant. “You’re dead, Sorrengail, and I’m going to be the one to kill you.”

”Not today.” She says with confidence, before he scoffs and walks off.

”Damn Sorrengail, not even a day in and already making enemies.” I tease, pulling her attention to me.

She just looks at me and nods meekly before turning and walking into the courtyard, heading towards the girl who had crossed before her. And as if magnetised to her, Dain starts walking right towards her. Oh this was going to be fun.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn

[pvrkacciosan]

Breaks and Bruises

Summary: During a lesson on hand to hand combat, the reader receives a little more of a kicking than she bargained for, Bodhi is pissed to find her injured, having not admitted feeling for her he struggles to grasp with his panic for her safety.

Pairing : Bodhi Durran X Fem!Reader

Word count: unchecked.

Warning : swearing, angst, Bodhi losing his shit at Xaden, suggestive content towards the end, sexual tension,

Part 2

☽⋆❈⋆☾

You stood watching from the side, the mats in the middle of the room filled with bodies that danced around one another, matching hit for hit.

Xaden Riorson circled around the room, he was your Wingleader and one of the few third years present right now as almost the whole of second and first years were here sparring one another. Un unorthodox training session he had planned.

You observed from beside another group of first years all of you picking up ever snippet of information you could from the second years that fought before you.

Fighting stances, patterns, strikes. The older students did well, their bodies toned to become weapons bred for war.

You could be like that too, if you actually practised. The clipped tone of your dragon, Asralethia sided into your thoughts.

You should have put your shields up against Asra as Bodhi has taught you, but watching the other students bodies move in tandem to one another was a dance to be observed and respected. One which you just couldn't seem to look away from.

You have known Bodhi for years, and since arriving at Basgiath, bonding with Asra and surviving towards the end of your first year. You had managed to settle back into the relaxed nature of your friendship.

Not that you could just call it that. The older you both seemed to get the more you seemed to notice just how... Well how much you, desire Bodhi to be more then your friend.

Not that those thoughts had ever been shared beyond your own mind. Apprehension always got the better of you.

Perhaps if he-

You're always thinking about this boy, Focus girl. Asra's voice in your head brought you halting back into your own body once more. Present just as the girl in the mat before you flipped her opponent straight onto his back, his chest racked upwards as he tried to gulp air back into his lungs.

Get out of my head. You could sense Asra's snarl of disapproval rippled through the bond you both shared,

Get on one of those mats and I will. Your dragon's words were final and she seemed to build up her side of your shield.

When the guy on the mat at your front slapped a hand onto the padding beneath him, you tried to avoid Xaden's gaze.

He must have noticed you trying to slip away,

"Y/n you're up next, to the mat now"

You cast a scathing look towards him, Bastard. Xaden's answering smirk was an indicator that he knew exactly of your current thoughts. And found amusement within them.

You would have taken the chance to flip him off but the girl on the mat began to bounce on the balls of her feet, preparing herself as she looked you over once.

You didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her beyond her position as a third year, one of the few to attend this sparring today. She had made mince of the second year boy before you.

Stepping closer, you planted a foot into the circle, shifting to keep the space between your bodies for now, anticipating her movement.

When she didn't immediately swing for you, you feigned to the right, it did little more then rendering your own balance off centre.

Eyeballing from the side she waited for you to right yourself before moving, it was a tactic you should have foresaw and would have had you more time to prepare yourself.

Her balled fist collided with the side of her face, knuckles cracking into the bone of your cheek.

With shock you had little time to release yourself when she gripped your shoulders. Holding you in place as she brought her knees driving upwards into the line of your chest.

Even with the blood roaring in your ears you couldn't miss the sound of the surrounding group when they hissed in unison of your legs giving out under you. The collapse jolting you to your very senses.

Tensing the muscles in your legs, lower back and ass you spun on the mat using your opposite foot to push. Kicking for the girls feet.

Your shin connected with her calf, sending her to back flat land harshly against the surface of the mat. The air whoosing from her lungs with audible affect.

You danced away from her frame, the edge of the padding stopping you from backing up any further, you couldn't be pushed off. It never looked good, for anyone.

Xaden was circling the mats, keeping a close eye on where the two of you were sparring. The girl launched up from the ground, having caught her breath.

You knew she would come at you fast and hard but hadn't expected her to full on tackle you to the ground, trying to dodge it by stepping to the side, you only succeeded in putting yourself in an awkward position. When she collided with you, her shoulder had driven itself directly into your ribs,

Pain bloomed there but you hadn't any time to recover as you both went rolling to the floor.

With the weight of both your bodies you landed hard, the noise seemed to draw in more attention around the room. Other mats slowing to watch as this girl handed your ass to you on a plate.

It was a pathetic attempt to dislodge her from the position she had on you, straddling your torso she pinned your arms down one by one with her knees.

"Marked bastard" she leaned closer to spit the words in your face, her eyes narrowing on the relic swirling around your collar bone that rooted up from your arm.

Desperate to free yourself when she landed the first punch on your face. You could feel the warm rush of blood spilling from beneath the bone of your cheek.

Pushing all the effort you could into willing your muscles to work you drove your heel closer to your ass as much as you could, using the leverage it gave you to thrush your hips upwards.

Her face and upper body came flying towards your own, thrown off her own balance. You heard her curse as she tried to catch herself. Twisting your hips beneath her you used this moment to wiggle out from her grip turning to get upright.

She grabbed for you and despite you launching yourself out the way you felt her hand wrap around your forearm.

She jerked your arm back towards her before sharply twisting it. You screamed out as the muscles stretched to their limit,

Even with him across the room, you watched Xaden spin at the sound, wide steps eating up the space to come back to your mat.

"Cassandra!" His voice boomed but the girl didn't seemed to hear him, instead twisting hard on your arm.

The joint was screaming in protest, you tried to wiggle from her grasp, push against her but even the littlest of movements made you blanch with pain; white hot pain that send your vision rolling.

Somewhere in that time you had begun pleading with her to let go but still she refused to release you, Xaden was nearing the mat now, shadows swirling.

The pain only continues to build, until finally something gave way.

Something in your arm and shoulder ripped free and popped.

Cassandra dropped you in shock as she heard the audible sound that came from your joint, her eyes widening in surprise.

You had begun screaming at the pain that increased ten fold. You were aware of Asra speaking in your head but when you couldn't utter a response her end of the bond fell silent.

You ungracefully landed on the mat, good hand holding your injured shoulder. Breathing was becoming painful as you ribs which were clearly broken ached with even the smallest of movements.

You were struggling to see as the pain took everything, taking over every sense.

You would have cried out in pain when your whole body slumped forwards, giving your consciousness over to darkness.

- ❈ -

The pain was a dull ache, like a headache building behind your eyes. With the safety of darkness still blanketing your vision you could focus on the pain. Your face, shoulder and ribs, it had slowed the pain not as aggressive. Only when your blood pulsed did you shift in discomfort.

Still with your eyes closed you could only detect the noise of someone else moving when you did, someone sitting beside the bed.

"Y/n?" Heat bloomed in your core, you knew that voice anywhere. Peeling your eyes open and blinking to focus your vision.

Bodhi was up out the chair and beside you in seconds. He went to reach for your hand before stopping himself, expression shifting across the shadows on his face.

"I thought you said you weren't fighting today?" You could detect the concern in his tone, but he hadn't been there. Bodhi was supposed to have other duties to attend to today.

As though he spied your thoughts,

"Asra came to find Cuir when you stopped responding, she was worried about you" his face was clearly saying he too was worried.

He pinned you with his gaze, "What happened? I thought the first years were watching for today sparring tomorrow"

You nodded around the pain in your head that seemed to tether to the top of your spine.

"I thought I was doing alright considering she was third year. And -" you paused remember the words she had spat at you moments before she dislocated your shoulder.

Your hesitation only seemed to snag at Bodhi's attention, he brushed a knuckle across the top of your hand. Warmth coiled on the skin there.

Tell him. The tone of Asra's voice in your head left little room for debate. Even if you could detect the small degree of concern.

"She called me a 'marked bastard' while we were on the mats"

Bodhi sat up a little straighter. Out of many of the marked ones you always tried to be friendly to everyone despite their views on your group. It only seemed to anger him more at the thought.

"Who the fuck even let you on that mat?" He angrily drove his fingers through the dark curls on his hair. You would have got distracted by it if his expression hadn't shifted with utter rage.

"Y/n, who was it?"

The air lodged itself in your throat, you would hate to be the one that caused a fight between the cousins, despite their usual spats of disagreements. With the expression on Bodhi's face you could tell this wouldn't be like their usual arguments.

"Y/n-"

"Xaden."

You could see every inch of Bodhi go stiff. Eyes glazing over in thought, he was communicating with Cuir and you knew it.

Asra, where is Xaden do you know? You hesitantly asked,

The wingleader is on the flight field, she cuts her words off with a little more bite at the mention of Xaden.

Bodhi rose up from the chair and did something he hadn't done since you both were kids, without thinking and leaning closer Bodhi pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Bodhi-" the sudden act, stunned you silent.

"I'll be back shortly" he didn't say anything else before turning and walking out of the room.

You tried to push yourself up off the bed with one arm, but every muscle in your torso and spine rippled and screamed in protest.

Asra can you make sure they don't kill each other?. You let her hear the pleading in your tone.

I will keep your one safe. No promises for the Wing leader. It was clear to see exactly where she now stands with Xaden after he put you on that mat.

You couldn't only hope they didn't kill one another.

- ❈ -

Xaden had been hiding from his cousin on the flight field, he knew where Bodhi stood with his feelings on Y/n and he had no real reason as to why he put her on that mat. It was a mistake he shouldn't have made.

Bodhi was ignoring Cuir's encouragement as he strides onto the flight field passing the group from First Wing.

His tunnel vision was focused on the familiar figure near the centre of the field.

Speeding up his pacing, Bodhi reeled all his emotions as he drove back his arm. Xaden only turned quick enough to catch a quick glance of his cousin's fist before it collided with the side of his jaw.

He was sent rocking back as Bodhi scowled down at his cousin, going to forward another punch Bodhi swore out loud as Garrick intercepted and pulled him back.

"Get off me!" Garrick refused to let off, keeping his grip on Bodhi, the older boy had size on him and Bodhi would be stupid to swing for Garrick just to release himself.

There was a boom as two dragons landed nearby, a green and blue. Cuir and Asra. Y/n was probably keeping tabs by communicating through Asra. The blue watching every movement with a lethal precision.

Bodhi finally lifted both hands, palms wide in surrender. Garrick stalled a second before finally releasing him.

Xaden was rubbing at the bruise already blooming like blood along the bone. He wiggled his jaws, face contorting in discomfort.

Bodhi couldn't bring himself to care if it hurt. Xaden had put you on that mat. Couldn't think beyond the reasoning that you were hurt due to that fact.

"What the fuck Xaden?" He didn't need to elaborate further.

"I have no real reason for putting her on that mat" Xaden's head hung a little,

Bodhi looked ready to swing again, Garrick shuffled on his feet, arms folded across his chest firmly. A muscle built barrier to keep the cousins from ripping into each other.

"That's bullshit" Bodhi wouldn't even attempt to hide the anger in his voice, not when he knew both older boys knew his feelings towards you.

"I'm so-"

Bodhi scoffed shaking his head, "Don't even try to apologise. That girl called Y/n a marked bastard."

Bodhi knew it would anger them as much as it had him. You felt things more deeply then other marked ones, who's brash nature tended to defend themselves against petty name-calling. It always ate away at you.

Bodhi knew he was right as Xaden shifted, dropping his hand away from his face when Garrick shot him a gruff look.

The girl is trying to leave the room.

Bodhi glanced across to watch Cuir, his dragon shifted on her front legs, Asra beside her still watching with eyes narrowing in on Xaden, If Sgaeyl wasn't relaxed in the dried grass meter from Riorson, Bodhi might have expected Asra to bite Xaden's head off his shoulders simply from the way she watched him.

"I have to get back to Y/n." he stalked closer a step, Garrick seemed to let him take those inches closer,

"I don't care if you're my family or a Wingleader, You ever pull that shit again and I'll gut you where you stand."

Despite the weight of his words, Bodhi couldn't seem to bring himself to care what strain they put on his relationship with Xaden. Family or no, Wingleader or no. He shouldn't have put you on a fighting mat with a third year with way more experience than you. The resurfacing of those thought simply made his blood boil more.

Asra says the girl has made it to the hallway. Cuir still sounded as relaxed as ever,

Xaden seemed to nod in silent agreement, not reaching to stop Bodhi as he finally turned to leave. Garrick offered the younger boy a quipped smile before he turned towards his own dragon, which landed onto the flight field behind him.

Bodhi had begun walking back towards the building,

Where is she now? he asked of Cuir, knowing Asra would still be within communication reach.

Half way down the hall, her body is weakened. Do something. Cuir was clearly being edge on by your dragon, A demand most likely coming straight from Asra herself. Bodhi should have known you might have tried to come after him, if only to stop him from killing his own cousin.

I'm going. Cuir only seemed to chuff in his head,

Bounding back up the stairwell towards the dormitory, Bodhi slowed sensing you around the corner, funnily enough when he rounded the hallway he spotted you.

One arm brushing the wall for support, the other despite the sling it hung in, a hand was holding your side. The rib beneath screaming in protest of your movements and apparently your breathing as well. It was infuriating.

Bodhi shook off his anger with Xaden for now, you hadn't seemed to notice his approach yet. Stopping for a breather as your head swirled.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

You glanced up at Bodhi, relieved to see him unharmed. You shouldn't have jerked your head up so suddenly, not ready for the sudden rush the blood would cause.

Your hand against the cool stone was the only thing tethering you, squeezing your eyes shut with a hiss of breath breaking through your clenches teeth you were vaguely aware of your body swaying.

"Y/n?" his voice was softer then usual, and closer then he had been moments before. Peeling both eyes open slowly, you could see the worry etched onto Bodhi's expression. His warm palms brushed your hip to limit the amount of swaying you did. Holding you in place, it was an effort to not gawk down at his hands.

You would have picked fun of him had you not believed you might pass out any second,

"Can you... Help me get back?" you pointed a finger behind you, in the direction of your dorm room.

"Of course."

You had been expecting him to loop your good arm over his shoulder and help you pathetically limp back down the hall. You hadn't mentally prepared yourself for him to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground.

You squeaked in surprise, Bodhi stiffens and you felt ever muscles along his chest and torso ripple with immediate affect.

"Sorry I didn't think... D-did I hurt you?"

There was a nervousness lining every edge of his body, It was an unusual characteristic for Bodhi. Even when he blinked down at you in worry, you struggled to push your words past the nervous lump forming in your throat.

"...no."

Bodhi very carefully adjusted his grip on you, the arm supporting your back pulling you closer into his chest, The one tucked under your knees tightened to keep your body as level as possible.

His warmth was encompassing your own, mixing to solidify the fact Bodhi Durran was now carrying you back to your room. Where he was going to lie you down on your bed, The thoughts that swirled your mind seemed to dull the ache of the injuries littering your body.

The bumps and bruises lost as you glanced up to watched him. The words stalled in you once more, as you became oddly aware of the tone muscles beneath his shirt. Your clothes being the only thing separating your hot skin from that direct contact you found yourself craving more and more.

"Is-" you swallowed hard, Bodhi continued walking slowing to let a couple other first years walk past. They eyed you up but said nothing, continuing on.

Bodhi glanced down at you, that usual unwavering confidence masking the nervousness that still clung to him like smoke.

"Is Xaden... Dead?" you couldn't help the hesitation in you. It hadn't been your intention for the two to fight.

Asra had filled you in on snippets of what was happening, but when you asked for the outcome she had fallen conveniently silent. The voices in your head convinced you it was your concern for the wing as a whole if Xaden were absent instead of Bodhi's personal welfare if he went head to head with the Wingleader that had you fighting the pain to leave your bed.

"He will live." Bodhi fought to bite back the word. 'Unfortunately', fearful it may give him away.

You nodded softly, hissing when the blood rush up the back of your head. The sound of your discomfort made him slow and pull you closer to him.

"Almost there." His voice had gone softer once more. As he rounded to the final edge of the hall. Slowing at your door he turned to push it with his back. It swung open, Moving inside he kicked it shut.

You glanced across. Noticing the much nicer interior,

"This isn't my room."

Bodhi moved across to the bigger bed,

"That's because it's mine."

Despite being friends long before every coming to Basgiath, you had never seen the inside of his room, never allowed yourself to get that close. Perhaps in fear of meeting another female inside or retreating our from within the dorm room.

When you went to question him, Bodhi smiles, rounding the edge of the chair

"My bed is far comfier," as if to prove his point, He began lowering you gently, the top sheet met your body first and the mattress under that sunk and molded to the lines of your body was utter bliss lifting your weight from the pressure of your injuries.

A moan of pleasure escaped you, one which you hadn't mean to release and Bodhi froze easing you onto the bed. As horror overtook you.

You had moaned right into his ear.

His face was inches from you, as he unraveled his arms from behind you.

"I know my bed was comfy, but didn't expect it to entice such sounds from you."

You face and body heated and you would have blamed it on the injuries and bruises around you, but the heat that built in your core you couldn't deny it.

Bodhi chuckled lightly, easing himself to sit away from you on the bed.

"I'm going to start accompanying you to sparring practise." That nervousness seemed to have eased away being replaced by something more you couldn't place.

"I could have taken on anyone else." The words were for yourself and him, unwilling to believe you had let yourself and your squad down with your weakness on the mats.

"Xaden shouldn't of had you fighting. Don't worry, It won't happen again." the utter conviction in his tone, it's unbreaking truth, shot shivers up your arm.

Bodhi gave you one final smile, easing up he places a soft kiss to your brow, the air stuttered out of you. You clamped your mouth shut to hide it. Sparing yourself anymore embarrassment for today.

"Get some rest Y/n."

You eased down as he began to move towards the door,

"Wait-"

Bodhi froze, glancing at you from over the curve of his muscled shoulder.

"Where will you sleep? I can't just take your bed"

Bodhi seemed to take a second,

"I'm fine with the chair for a few nights. You need the bed more."

And with those final words, Bodhi gripped the door, knuckles white as if leaving you in this room was a challenge. Nodding once he slipped out.

You sighed settling down into the bed. Letting the silence to calm the roaring he had enticed in your blood, setting it alight.

Outside the door Bodhi exhaled deeply,

When you had made that sound in his ear he had fought all restraint to keep himself from clinging to you for longer, it had taken all his fraying self restrain to leave that room.

Every inch of his skin felt tight with an invisible tension.

"Fine with the chair. Really?"

Bodhi settled his stare to glare at Garrick. The smirking bastard had his relaxed form leant against the opposite hallway wall. Brow raised in amusment.

Bodhi made his way towards him, passing Garrick who began making kissing sounds behind him.

Bodhi tried to hide his own amusement, playfully shoving Garrick's shoulder, as he followed him down the hall.

"Damn man, you're pussy whipped."

"Fuck off"

Garrick's bellowing laugh echoed down the hall.

Despite his defence of it all, Bodhi couldn't deny his friends teasing, he was well and truly fucked because if today's incident had taught him anything it was that he had fallen for you and he had fallen for you hard.

And as Bodhi went in search of Xaden, he couldn't find any part him that was unhappy by the situation.

Not one bit.

[iamthemain-character]

To Fall

xaden riorson x fem!reader

CW: Canonical violence, brief suggestive language

A/N: I'm currently reading Iron Flame so this is just based off Fourth Wing knowledge! Don't come for me lol

Song: I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier

I feel lighter than I have in so much time

I've crossed the border line of weightless

One deep breath out from the sky

I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm

All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

The first sensation you notice when you stir from your rest is the weight of your lover’s arm around your waist. You can feel the way his hand rests just under your breast, gentle compared to its touch just a few hours ago. You keep your eyes closed, savoring the peaceful intimacy of this moment. Your hand lifts from the mattress, trailing your fingers over the lines of his forearms, not needing sight to trace the familiar scars. You’ve gazed at these arms long enough, felt their strength, that you know each muscle as if it is your own.

“Good morning, beautiful.” The husky morning voice of Xaden curls around your ear, the sound traveling straight down to your heart. You feel his hard chest press against your shoulder blades as he pulls you in closer, his warmth permeating your skin, heating you up from the inside out. You could feel the bridge of his nose as he pressed his face into your hair, lips finding the bits of skin through the curtain of hair that fell over your shoulders. His hand pressed a little firmer against your ribs, as if he could meld you into his body through sheer strength. Not that you would have minded; you never felt as complete as you did when you were right against Xaden.

It was difficult to say what moments with Xaden were your favorite. He was an all consuming sort of lover, always giving his most in every second he spent in your presence. Yet the soft mornings, when the sun had not yet dared to cast her gaze over the earth, you perhaps cherished most. Xaden was entirely yours in those moments; not a Wingleader, not the leader of a rebellion, but just the man who loved you. And the man you loved fiercely in return. The bond between the two of you felt as fierce as dragons’, a desperate need to be near one another, to share in every part of your being.

Unlike dragons, however, the world tore the two of you apart. Your assignment to the front lines brought a chill into your bed, one that not even all of Xaden’s affection could brush away. You longed to give into his touches, the kisses that made you feel as if you were high above the world, but the knowledge that every minute brought you closer to your departure forced you to be sensible.

“You’re thinking.” Xaden murmurs, the plush of his lips ghosting over the curve of your ear.

“Always.” You sigh in return, turning your head to look into his eyes. There’s a shine in his Onyx irises, a light that you proudly note you bring to his life. You reach up your hand, trailing it over the path of stubble that covers his jawline. He makes a sound of contentment, one that you feel rumble in his chest, and he presses his head further into your touch.

“You’re going to need to write down all of those pretty thoughts for me.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against your palm, following the map of its creases.

“Most of them are going to be about you anyways.” You give a soft breath of laughter, knowing you would willingly write down every word for him if he asked.

“Even better.” He insists, moving his kisses to the pulsepoint at your wrist, as if he could kiss your very heart. “That means they’ll match mine.”

Your chest swells, and suddenly it's like your ribs have been cinched in, making your throat close in on itself. Your eyes prick with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to push them away. You slip your hand to the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers with the messy curls, savoring the silky sensation. “I’m going to miss you.” You whisper, the words only audible for Xaden, as if the walls themselves will hear you and shame your vulnerability. But here, in the bed, with only his ears listening in, you know you can allow yourself the emotions too often denied in the life of a rider.

“As will I.” Xaden replies, his tone low and gentle. “But you will be back soon.” He says the words so easily, voice as calm as the morning itself. But his arms tighten their hold on you, his hands pressing flat against your hip and your stomach, pulling your body as tightly against his as possible without crushing you. There's a desperation in his hold, and you think that he may be clinging to you rather than holding. Every time you leave, there's the unspoken knowledge between the two of you that you may not return. The uncertainty of life comes with the job, and with the warlike state on the front lines, mercy has turned her gaze away from the world.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” Your words are soft, but your tone is underlined with a plea. You know all too well how Xaden pushes himself when you are not there, pushing himself beyond his limit in his efforts to fulfill all the roles that fall on his–alebit perfect–shoulders.

“You’re the one we should be worrying about.” Xaden murmurs, his hands turning your body over so you’re facing him. His hand leaves your hip, coming up to stroke back your messy hair. “I hate knowing that I won’t be there to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.” You reassure him, your words truthful. You have more than enough skills to fend for yourself, and years of experience have trained you to be a dangerous opponent.

Xaden’s thick brows furrow, drawing together between his dark eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.” He growls, his fingers on your waist digging in a little, most likely adding a few more bruises to his marks littering your body. “I should be there to protect you, to make sure that you’re safe. I don’t want anyone laying a hand on you.”

The fire in his words burns straight to your heart, making your skin tingle with the warmth. Even though it's not possible to let Xaden defend you at all times, the very knowledge that he would so passionately protect you from all harm makes you fall in love a little more. “You’re needed here. The cadets have so much to learn, and they really can’t protect themselves.” You pause, your voice softening. “Especially yours.”

He nods, and you watch his shoulders tense as he is reminded of all the people he is responsible for. You’ve traced those 107 scars more times than you could count, kissed everyone as a silent promise to help him. So much rode on keeping those boys and girls safe.

“Just promise you’ll come back to me.” He says, his dark voice tinted with need.

“Always.”

And though I burn how could I fall?

When I am lifted by every word you say to me

If anything could fall at all, it's the world

That falls away from me

The hands of smoke are curled around your esophagus, choking out every last clean breath from your lungs. Your entire body ached, encrusted in your flight leathers from the amount of blood that you had been bathed in. Furthermore, it was unclear how much was yours versus the enemy’s, but you kept pushing yourself, knowing there would be no peace until every one of the Poromish fighters backed off, or more tragically, were dead. Your heart hurt even more than your wounded body when you thought of the innocent people who were dying, wondering how Nevarre would twist this battle to be blamed on the Gryphon riders and not the true enemy.

You climbed back onto your dragon, the two of you taking to the skies to evaluate the battlefield. The landscape was a nightmare painted by the cruelest of artists, the dirt turned to reddish mud from the sheer amount of blood spilt. It was a small relief to see the battle finally winding down, though it may only be because there was no one left to fight. You and your dragon flew out to the edge of the wards, continuing to look for anywhere that your aide might be needed.

Suddenly, your stomach turned into a sinkhole, swallowing up any seed of relief that might have been planted. The edge of the wards had moved, evidently from further weakening of the stones, and suddenly you and your dragon were exposed. Your dragon quickly banked left to dive back into the safety of Nevarre, but just a second too late. You felt metal hit your neck, right at the junction of your shoulder, pain shooting out like lightning from the point of impact. Your functionality disappeared with the jolt of pain, as suddenly you felt nothing at all. Except, the world was tilting, and rather than seeing the neck of your dragon, you were looking up at it, watching as it grew smaller and smaller. In the haze that surrounded your brain, you wondered if you were falling.

You wondered if Xaden had eaten that morning.

And then you thought nothing at all as darkness consumed you.

You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

While you're as heavy as the world

That you hold your hands beneath

Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

You were warm. Your entire body seemed to protest against its existence, but you were warm. And surrounded by softness. You opened your eyes–the action taking more effort than it should–and had to blink away the blearyness that blurred your vision. As you looked at the ceiling, noting the beams of dark wood that arched the ceiling, you couldn’t help but think that this looks like Xaden’s bedroom in Aretia.

Your eyes confirmed your suspicions as they slowly moved over the room, spotting the familiar wardrobe, dresser, and desk. All of which were places that you were familiar for far less than innocent reasons, but knew nonetheless. Hope slipped out of its cocoon, fluttering her new wings in your heart as you looked towards the door, looking for the owner of both the room and your heart. And your hope took flight, soaring through your body as you saw Xaden’s head resting atop his arm, his tall body slumped over the edge of the bed. His other hand grasped yours, a desperate need in his grip even as he slept.

You had seen the way his hands could wield daggers, swords, clubs even–not to mention the dark and powerful shadows that he could conjure with barely any movement at all. But to you, those hands held up your entire world. You knew that his calloused palms could hold you in a way that took away any fear, could convince you of his deepest affections, and could bestow a love within yourself so deep that you forgot to be insecure.

Softly, you ran your thumb over the curve of his knuckles, smiling to yourself as you gazed at your beloved. Despite your stiff muscles, you pushed through the ache to shift downward on the bed, curling up beside his head. At the sensation of the mattress dipping, Xaden’s head shot up, his hand constricting around yours. For a moment, his eyes are dark and wild, as if he’s ready to manifest that darkness around whoever threatens him. But then he focuses on you, and immediately they soften into the gentle depths that you’ve lost yourself in countless times.

“My love…” Xaden’s voice is hoarse, the usual strength gone as water wells in his eyes. His fingers flex as he resists gripping you so tightly, afraid he’ll break you.

“Hi.” Your own voice is soft, scratchy as it begs for water. But what’s more important is having the love of your life closer, and so you open your arms, wanting to feel Xaden fill them. He immediately responds, up from his seat in a flash and letting the mattress take his weight. His own arms envelope you, barely restrained from simply crushing your body to his chest. Your arms feel weak from lack of use, but you grip onto the man as tightly as you can, your fingers finding root in his dark curls.

You press your nose into the little gap between his neck and his uniform, inhaling deeply. An ocean of scent fills your mind, washing your body over with comfort and ease. He smells like the tall pines that surround Aretia, of the dark leather that was molded to his form, and the warm skin that laid underneath. It was the scent of home.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Xaden’s voice is a growl, but you know him well enough to hear the worry and care in the rough words.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You whisper softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his stubbled jaw.

Xaden lets out a shaky breath, hands tightening on your nightdress, seemingly unconvinced that you’re not going to suddenly disappear. “I should have been there.”

“There was no way you could have been.” You counter, trying to soothe him.

“I should have been there to protect you.” Xadens voice comes out dangerously low, frustration dripping off his words.

“You have a duty-”

“My duty is to you, dammit.” He takes a deep breath, trying to control his voice. “There is nothing I would prioritize over you. Let them strip my rank from me, let this whole rebellion fall apart again, I will not lose you.” Xaden murmurs the words like they’re an oath, like he needs you to let him dedicate his life to you. “If I need to live and die at your hand, then so be it. You are the only thing that matters. Nothing else.”

For a long moment, your words fail you, Xaden’s passionate vow stealing any protest or promise from your mind. “I love you” simply wasn’t enough to convey the depth of emotion and connection the two of you shared.

You leaned back a little, fingers brushing the curls at the nape of his neck as you gazed into his gleaming onyx eyes. “Then live at my hand.” You softly request, your own voice as insistent. “I don’t want your sacrifice. I want you, here, with me, until we both draw our final breaths.”

Now, it was Xaden’s turn to lack a response, the words weighing heavily on his heart. His whole adult life, he had been prepared to die for his cause, for what he believed in. But to live for something? To live for you? It was something he never considered; but if it was all you wanted, then by the gods he would do it.

“I’ll live for you, my love.” He murmurs, and he brings your empty hand to his lips, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers, then down to the palm, and finally kissing your pulse point. Your wrist throbbed steadily, reminding him of just how precious living was.

Leave it now, I am sky-bound

If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

We'll float away, but if we fall

I only pray, don't fall away from me

Xaden meant it literally when he said he would live and die at your hand. He did not leave your side unless absolutely necessary, and even then he’d always drag one of his friends in to watch over you, despite your protests that you were fine. Still, it was a little endearing, seeing how much he cared for you.

The healing process was slow, the poison from the arrow having done a lot of damage to your body. But you made steady recovery, taking the medicine you needed to, getting rest as well, though the latter often had to be enforced by Xaden himself. It worked both ways, however, as you would often convince the man of shadows to rest as well by welcoming him into the warm bed.

Walking proved to be the most difficult task during your healing period. Your body had been so violently ill with the poison, as well as the wounds you took during the actual battle, that you had been greatly weakened. That, in addition to you being bed ridden for some time, only added to the issue. When you started to literally get back on your feet, however, Xaden’s arms held you, preventing you from collapsing, encouraging every step. In the moments when you would grow too fatigued, he’d scoop you into those same arms to return to his room.

At first, you were frustrated with your inability to do such a basic thing, feeling like a dead weight on Xaden’s shoulders. But as each day passed, you came to cherish those walks through the halls of his home, his arm around your waist, warm and sure. Xaden himself relaxed more during those times, allowing himself to speak freely and enjoy the borrowed time you two shared.

It was during one of these outings that the two of you wandered down a hallway you had previously not explored. It was quiet, with a few pieces of art or items that had been salvaged from the original house. And then your eyes landed on a portrait; it was vast, spreading across the majority of the wall, showing off the smallest of details the artist put in. There was a man, strong and proud, and a woman beside him, looking gentle and wise. But what drew your eye the most was the depiction of the young boy between them, head held high, dark onyx eyes staring directly at the viewer.

The same onyx eyes that stared at you.

“Thats Mom and Dad.” Xaden’s voice is soft, sounding more vulnerable and childlike than you have ever heard before. You glance at him, seeing the bittersweet smile that ghosts over his features. His strong hand grips at your waist a little tighter, as if he needs a reminder that you’re still here, that he didn’t lose you too.

“You look just like your father.” You remark, your voice as tender as your beating heart for Xaden and his family that you’ll never get to meet. “But your smile is like your mother’s.”

Xaden’s smile grows more real, his eyes looking over you, full of gratitude and hope from your words. “She would have liked you. Both of them, I think.”

“I would hope so.” You muse, studying the people in the portrait. You wonder what it would have been like to actually know them, to be able to note what traits your beloved shared with his parents. Seeing the portrait of his father seemed so different from the traitorous man depicted in all of the history books. “What was he really like?”

Xaden tensed beside you, as if the thought of what you must “know” about his father made him defensive. Yet he just squeezed your waist, perhaps a reminder to himself that you weren’t there to burn his memories too. “He was a good man. Not perfect, but a good man. The kind I wish I could be.”

For a moment you let the weight of his words sink onto the two of you, the air thick with the hopes and fears that formed your very lives. You both knew that you and Xaden would carry the blood on your hands for the rest of your lives; even if you won the war, there would never be a moment you could truly say that you were good. But perhaps Xaden’s father felt the same.

“We’re going to finish what he started.” You say quietly, placing your hand over Xaden’s heart. The motion draws his gaze to you, his eyes seeming to come back from whatever far off place his mind sailed to. “We’re going to make this world the kind he would have wanted.”

Xaden doesn’t say anything, just placing his calloused hand on top of yours, his thumb stroking your cool skin. “He wanted things to be better for me.” He whispers, his voice raspy with choked emotion. “I want things to be better for our kids. I want them to be able to choose who they are.”

The idea of “our kids” doesn’t go unnoticed, making your heart flutter as you are reminded just how much Xaden truly wants a future with you. “We’re making things better for all of us. For our friends, our future kids…” You pause, smiling a little, “For us. And we’ll be able to share the story of just how wonderful your father truly was.’

You could have been an angel from above, the way Xaden gazed at you as you spoke; his eyes were reverent, full of devotion, holy and unholy. “For us.” He echoes, like it's another vow to strengthen his heart. A vow that he seals with a kiss to your lips.

I do not have wings, love, I never will

Soarin' over a world you are carryin'

If these heights should bring my fall

Let me be your own

Icarian carrion

Once you fully recovered, Xaden still wanted to keep you in Aretia. The very idea of you returning to Baisgaith just to possibly be sent away again didn’t settle well with his protective heart. Still, you were determined, and just as stubborn as he was, so he begrudgingly agreed that you would return with him.

Despite your lover’s disgruntled attitude towards your decision, the flight back was gratifying for both of you. Side by side, your dragons never strayed from one another, and neither did the two of you. During the few stops that were made, Xaden was quick to encase you in his arms, often allowing himself to indulge in some kisses that increased the time of your journey. If Xaden had been doting before, the near loss of you had only made him even more devoted to claiming every moment he could.

This only became more apparent once the two of you returned to Baisgaith, reciting your perfected story of your terrible injury and how Xaden had managed to nurse you back to health. Leadership, of course, wanted to take you away so they could get the full report;you could have sworn Xaden was a dragon himself from his barely contained irritation at being forced to leave your side.

It wasn’t until the sun had set that you were finally allowed to return to your quarters, having had the details of your experience laid out and rehashed time and time again. Leadership could not find a flaw in your story, however, and eventually let you go with a welcome back to the citadel. You were a little tired, pent up with frustration at your lying authorities, and ready to be back in Xaden’s arms.

Your feet barely had time to step through the door, however, before shadows consumed you, slamming the door shut, nearly splintering it off the hinges. Immediately, heat rose in your body, Xaden’s desire palpable through the little control he had over his powers.

“Finally.” His voice whispers, low and husky with lust against your neck, his nose pressing into the soft skin. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come get you myself.”

You inhale deeply, the distinctive smell that you know and adore filling your senses as you lean back against his strong body. He’s already shirtless, his heated skin making you wonder how long he was waiting for you, like a predator ready to pounce and claim. “You know how long these things go. Trying to make sure I’m not a traitor.”

“Of course.” He darkly chuckles, pressing warm, open mouth kisses up the curve of your neck, biting softly behind your ear. “Don’t you know I’m filling your head with all kinds of nasty plans?”

“You certainly fill my head with filthy thoughts, my love, but I don’t think it's the kind the government cares about.” You hum in reply, smiling to yourself as you feel his hands wander down your body.

His long fingers find the buckles of your flight leathers, popping them open with practiced ease. “Well well, perhaps it should be my turn to interrogate that pretty little mind of yours.” His voice curls into a coil in your stomach, stirring up your desire. “I would love to know just what I can make you imagine.” His hands continue their work on your pants, continuing the progressive removal of your layers.

Once you’re undressed, he spins you around, his hands ghosting over the shape of your body before settling on your hips. His thumbs press into the hollow below the bone, his fingers splaying over the curve of your ass. It’s not unlike watching your dragons lay claim to their possessions, the way he grips onto you, but his possessive nature only stokes the fire in your belly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss over your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “Gods, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You murmur your honest reply, your skin tingling with the sensation of his touch.

“I mean it.” He murmurs, biting at your collarbone before lifting his gaze to meet yours. “My whole heart, it belongs to you. I am completely, madly, and truly in love with you.”

Xaden is always such a man of action that you’ve never really had to doubt if he loved you. But as the words melt over your body, casting warmth like the early morning sun, you are taken by just how truly loved you are. “I feel the same.” Your words hardly seem equal, but Xaden’s smile reassures you that he is pleased.

“I want you to always be mine.” His voice has dropped, as if he wants only you to hear his words. His dark eyes glimmer in the little light of the room, making your stomach turn with anticipation. “I want to be able to love you for the rest of our lives. I want to have a life with you by my side.”

You watch as Xaden takes your left hand into his, his calloused palms comforting against your own smaller hands. His thumb brushes over your ring finger, sending a thrill through your heart.

“I can’t make you any promises right now.” Xaden murmurs, love radiating off of every single syllable that leaves his lips. “And I want to do this properly when the time comes, with a ring, and a beautiful setting. I want to get down on one knee so you know that I’m serious when I say I want to worship you for the rest of my life.” He looks up, finding your eyes, giving a small, tender smile. “But for now, all I can ask is that you’ll be mine. In whatever comes our way, whether we have one minute together or one hundred years, I want to know that I get to give my time to you. If you’ll have me.”

You blink, your eyes filling with water as you listen to his words. “Xaden…”You whisper, your voice choked with emotion. You swallow your heart, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you cup his jaw, thumbs stroking the stubble there. “No matter how far we go, no matter what we do…I am yours. Truly and irrevocably. Even if we fall, I won’t fall away from you.”

Xaden feels his own eyes smart with unshed tears, and so he gathers you into his arms, burying his face into your neck. You can hear him murmur soft “thank you”s and “I love you”s against your skin, his hands running down your back. You smile at his reaction, and you slip your hand into his hair, lifting his face enough so you can press your lips against his, pouring out your heart to him through your touch. Xaden immediately reciprocates, his heart always hungry for you, and his lips move demandingly, pulling you in deeper.

He lets out a needy huff, and his hands find your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. “Let me show you how much I love you.” He requests against your lips, sounding like a man desperate for water.

“I’m all yours.”

Xaden holds nothing back as he kisses you again, his tongue demanding its way between your lips, savoring your taste on his lips. He swiftly moves across the room, his bed becoming his altar as he lays you down onto it. He takes a moment, eyes moving over your body, as if he could commit every mark and line to memory. He takes your hands, his own strong and capable, but gentle as they hold you, and he presses kisses over the ridges of your knuckles. “And I, my love..I am all yours.”

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall

Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

If I should fall, on that day

I only pray, don't fall away from me

“Fen Xander Riorson, be nice to your sister!”

Xaden smiled to himself, hearing your voice carry over the springtime air. The sun was setting over the mountains of Aretia, the new grass soft under his body. As far as his eye could see, he saw the prosperous new settlements, the homes and businesses of his friends and family thriving within the new age. It was a sight he thought would only ever be fantasy at one point.

As he feels your familiar hands smooth over his shoulders, your soft lips pressing against his temple, he is reminded just how real his life is.

“That is your son.” You murmur in his ear, coming to sit beside him on the flowering hill.

Xaden chuckles softly, reaching out to snake an arm around your waist. “Our son.” He reminds you, nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. Even after all these years and two kids, he still feels the intense need to just have you. “He gets his stubbornness from you.”

You huff, feigning indignation, but your wide smile gives away your true feelings. You lean against Xaden’s side, watching as your son ignores any reprimands and continues to chase his squealing little sister through the field. “He gets his rebellious side from you.”

Xaden lets out a small snort of laughter, his arm tightening around your waist. He doesn’t deny it, knowing that the two children both take after their parents. It was his greatest joy, being able to watch the very humans the two of you had created grow up and discover themselves. You had fulfilled your promise, after all; the world they knew was much kinder to them than it had been to him. His marks and his scars would always remind him of that.

Xaden’s gaze looks over you, the form of his beloved wife, and it only makes his smile grow. Gray hairs are beginning to intermix with your natural color, denoting the time that has passed within your body. You moan and complain about them, but he sees them as a mark that you two not only survived, but lived. Truly lived. And now, the fruits of your labor only grew in abundance every day.

“I love you.” He softly murmurs in your ear,, his hand brushing away the hair so he can press a kiss to your neck.

You smile up at him, a little surprised at the sudden words, but delighted by them nonetheless. “And I love you.” You reply, your words full of truth and affection.

The two of you return to watching the children play, and the sun continues to disappear with the last few moments of day. But now, you and Xaden simply note it as a passing thought, your love no longer on borrowed time. The night will only bring another day, with the promise of letting you cherish every moment, never to be parted again

[wisteriaiswriting]

Fourth wing/ iron flame request!

So excited your request are open for the empyrean series I feel like there isn’t too many few fics recently

(First idea) - where the reader (as violet) is injured in battle and has to get stitches but hates blood and needles and has a panic attack the other people in her squad don’t know why reader is acting weird or what’s going on and xaden comes to the rescue helps them and comforts them - fluff hurt comfort

(Second idea) - where the reader gets really frustrated either with classes other cadets etc and is just angry at the world and takes it a little too far during a challenge and xaden / Liam has to calm them down

Calm Down

Words: 513

“Thanks again Nolon.” Stretching your shoulder backwards while trying to massage it. “It’s my job Y/N, now go on.” Shooing you out of the infirmary.

This time was another first year who was determined to kill you, which they obviously failed at. Luckily you felt merciful, sending them to Nolon as well with… much worse injuries than they gave you.

But not where they ended, with another kid ignoring the sparring pairs. Stepping onto the mat while shouting at and for you. Other first and third years tried to push them off, call them off and even their wingleaders failed.

Kids like this were getting on your nerves, thinking they're the strongest, the best and unbeatable. So they go ahead and challenge well known and stronger cadets, and that seems to be you, again. Maybe this time they’ll learn their lesson and not fight you again.

But they had another plan, and it was to win.

You were fighting fairly, only realizing that they weren’t when they got their hands on you. Their palms quickly heated up, almost covering your whole arm red and warm. Within minutes the other cadets noticed what was happening, about the step in when you did it first.

Pulling your arm from their grasp before slamming your hand into their nose, sending them flying on the mat. Of course though, they didn’t tap out. Slipping on their own blood as they tried to stand, making a wild leap for you.

Just one step to the left caused them to fall face first, allowing you the hop onto their back. Pulling their arm up and behind their back, slowly bending it up at just an awkward angle. Which quickly became painful, causing the first year to start flailing around, trying to throw you off or to just let go.

But with their leaking nose, they had no power to do so. With your own blood rushing, this left everything else to be blocked out. Missing the sound of the cadet finally tapping out until rough hands hauled you off.

Suddenly thrown over their shoulder, which let you get a good look at the person. Xaden. He had broken through the crowd, finding you about to break the kid's arm. Knowing he needed to pull you off them before you actually did.

***

“What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? That kid had it fucking coming!” Standing near the door to watch you pace around his room, “Do you know what they’ve been doing, throughout the whole year!?”

Sighing at your ranting, it was fair but he’d rather you don’t get in trouble for something in the moment. Missing him stepping closer to you, arms slowly wrapped around your waist, if you truely wanted to step away you could, but why would you.

Your own hands sat on his, melting into his embrace as your words died off. Turning around to face him before he pulled you back, sitting on the bed as you sat on his lap. “Ready to talk yet?”

“Think I need a bit more convincing~”

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I wish you would write a fic where Xaden accidently confesses his love to Violet in a casual conversation

Sure, anon! Have a 1k fic!

(some housekeeping: I don't know what "casual conversation" means, and I wrote this on my phone at midnight, so any typos...you don't see them. Set during the latter half of Fourth Wing, post sex scene #1. I don't actually know what else you're supposed to put with fics on tumblr, but!! here she is! Full fic below the cut)

When Xaden Riorson knocks on your door and tells you he’s taking somewhere, you listen. 

At least, Violet listens. She looks at it like doing a favor to the wing: no one likes a grumpy wingleader, and by hanging out with him while he gets tipsy in Chantarra, she’s avoiding just that perilous situation. 

He’s definitely not grumpy now. Not as he sits, whiskey in hand, eyes on Violet’s throwing stance. Not earlier, either, as he’d covered her in his cloak and coaxed her down Basgiath’s halls. It wasn’t even a Chantarra weekend for the upperclassmen who were allowed to go. Violet had zero reason to be here, in this Chantarra pub with Xaden Riorson. Xaden had his own reasons, but he was keeping them close to his chest, like everything else. 

She cocks her hand back, then throws the dart at the board. A perfect bullseye, nestled between her four other throws. 

She appraises her own work with a smile, though she takes care to keep it slight. She doesn’t need to get braggy now. Still, her cheeks are already pink, and they only grow more so when she hears slow clapping coming from Xaden’s seat at the closest table. 

“Excellent work, Violence,” he tells her, somehow sounding smug on her behalf. Under his breath, he continues, “Excellent.” 

He swirls his whiskey. The amber catches the low pub light. Violet’s eyes track his hands as they stretch around the glass, the veins shifting while he raises it to his lips, the bobbing of his throat that signifies his swallow. 

His glass clanks against the table. It’s rickety and sticky and she can’t believe he’s sitting there. The cheap wood doesn’t look right with him beside it. 

“Go on,” he says. “Give me another show.” 

She scoffs, but even as she does so, her feet march towards the board. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she insists, plucking her darts free. “It’s now a show for you.” 

She spins on her heel and backs up from the board once more. Doing so means she catches a glimpse of Xaden’s face, the upturn of his lips. 

“Can’t I enjoy myself?” 

His voice is rich. He doesn’t slur his words, but something in their quality makes it clear to Violet that the alcohol is making him be more honest, even if only slightly. 

She averts her eyes to the board. Heart racing, she throws her first dart. Just shy of a bullseye. 

“This can’t be your idea of an enjoyable night, Riorson.” 

He shuffles in his seat. She shouldn’t look at him—she should keep her eyes glued to the board. She should perfectly plot her next throw. 

She finds him staring at her, brows raised. He’d been awaiting her attention. 

“Can’t I?” 

She scoffs, refocusing on the board. Her next throw is better, but she’s still setting herself up to encircle the bullseye instead of truly hitting it. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Another throw, this one closer. “I just didn’t think you’d like to sit around and watch me play darts.”

Her next throw is her best. With every second, she gets better. Closer. Her heart has not calmed even a fraction.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He drums his fingers on the table Slowly, her eyes seek out the source of the sound, but Xaden makes a tsk-sound. “Finish your game, Violence. Let me see what you can do.” 

Her cheeks feel flushed beyond pink, and she hadn’t even had a sip to drink tonight. Xaden had offered—egregiously and at length—but she didn’t have a cent to her name, and she didn’t want to give the barkeep a good look at her hair. 

She throws her final two darts without further commentary. Finally, she gets her bullseye. 

She expects to hear Xaden’s voice. If not his voice, his applause, his raucous, ridiculous encouragement. But he’s silent, and because of that silence, she’s forced to look at him. 

He’s grinning, grinning at her. 

Her heart begins to seize in her chest. She feels it thrashing against her breast bone—it’s the only part of her that moves, that reacts in any discernible way. The rest of her is frozen.

Has she ever seen him grin? 

And suddenly, to top it all off, a chuckle slips through his lips. Her jaw drops, and he shakes his head, just as baffled as she is, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop laughing, and he doesn’t stop grinning. 

“What?” she demands “What is it?” 

“Nothing, Violence,” he insists, but she can hear the laughter in his voice, and the evidence is irrefutable. It can’t have been nothing. Not even close. “Go again. Let me watch.” 

She doesn’t go again. She approaches him, head held high, and orders him, “Tell me now.” 

His lips twist, but they stay upturned. She wants to glue her eyes to them, if not her own lips. She still remembers the searing burn of his kiss, how delicious that heat had been 

“I don’t think so, Violence.” He looks around at the pub behind her, the few patrons that line the stools. “Not really the time.” 

Fine, Violet thinks. She’ll make it the right time. 

She pulls out one of her knives from the sheaths at her ribs. A knife Xaden got her. Poetic justice, really. 

She slams it into the table, in the sliver of space between Xaden’s thumb and pointer finger. The blade sinks into the wood, splitting it. 

“You’ll tell me now.” 

Xaden only grins wider. His face practically glows with it, this foreign happiness. 

“You’re going to threaten me into telling you that I lo-”

His unfinished word hangs between them. Violet waits for those final two letters to come. She wants them out in the open so she can snatch at them, swallow them. 

He doesn’t give them to her. He stares at her face, lips parted. Xaden Riorson, who never makes a mistake. 

Of course, if he thinks that was a mistake, he’s completely and utterly wrong. 

Violet pounces on him. She bolsters herself with her dagger, but she doesn’t have to support herself for long. Her lips find Xaden’s and his arms find her waist, slotting her into the space between his legs. They kiss and kiss and kiss. She tastes his whiskey. He must taste her victory. 

When they part, it is only so that Violet can pant, “I am going to threaten you, actually.”  

She feels his laughter against her lips.

[quietstormxr]

Tomorrow, Always Tomorrow

Xaden POV - Companion to 'Forgotten'

A/N: FW, IF, and OS Spoilers (They're small, but you've been warned.), death, grief, loss, disappearance, swearing

Word Count: 13k

Follows Xaden's POV prior to and through 'Forgotten'.

Forgotten - Home

Please let me know if y'all think I did our favorite Wingleader justice!

Fucking Sorrengail.

My only thought as I skulk down the halls trying my best to get to Y/N’s room as quickly as possible. The beginning of this year has been a shit show trying to explain as best I could why I needed to involve myself with Sorrengail, but now with her bonded to Tairn, everything seems to be unraveling.

As I reach Y/N’s door, I can’t help my hesitation, this won’t be the first time this week that I didn’t keep my promise to her. Taking a deep breath to try and calm my aggravation, I knock lightly on her door with our rap of a knock. The seconds begin ticking between the knock and my ears are greeted with nothing but silence. Eyes focused on the grains streaking through her wooden door, my thoughts will her to open. Anxiety begins sinking her sharp claws into my chest as continual silence greets my ears.

‘Clearly the Devoted One has decided she did not want to wait.’ Sgaeyl snarks in my mind. 

My eyes narrow in a glare aimed directly at my impudent dragon, always wanting the last laugh. Always putting me in my place. It isn’t as though Sgaeyl isn’t privy to all the way’s I’ve felt my failings of keeping everything contained this year. As if sensing I need some type of reprieve for the night, Sgaeyl interjects once again.

‘Dhioch says she is out at the tree line. I suggest you tread carefully, Dhioch is not very happy.’ I send my thanks back through our bond and am moving as fast as I can to her. There is nothing in Sgaeyl’s last statement that does anything to calm the anxiety still sinking its talons into my chest. 

Heavy footfalls eat up the distance between the fortress of Basgiath and the tree line and the minute I step closer to the river, I see a form in the distance.

My heart cracks when she finally comes into full focus. Sitting with her back against the tree and eyes closed turned up to the stars, tracks of tears glisten in the moonlight against her skin. The silver streaks of light cast the trails in an ethereal glow, in direct opposition to the reality behind the reason they are there. Not for the first time this year, I curse myself for the many ways I’ve come to fail her. 

As I take in her slumped frame, I can’t even remember the last time I was able to spend any time with her in my arms. Between Wingleader duties, aiding the Poromish, dealing with the Assembly, and now trying to teach Violet Sorrengail how to not die, I have done nothing but disappoint the enigmatically beautiful, trusting, and far too good for me girl that sits alone and crying. 

It isn’t the first time that the thought of scooping her up and taking her to Aretia with me and never leaving has crossed my mind. It’s the one thought that has been playing on repeat, for the last year especially, though it’s probably been there since I first laid eyes on her.

I take another step forward and feel a branch crack under the weight of my boots. The minute the noise greets her ears; she’s wiping her tears and scrambling to her feet rushing to disguise the reason she’s out here. Her eyes meet mine for less than a second before she’s moving away.

“Wait, Blaze.” I plead as my arm shoots out to stop her from leaving, but she does her best to sidestep my reach. 

“I’m tired Xaden. I’m going to sleep.” The weariness in her voice makes the talons in my chest tighten further as the truth of how much I’ve hurt her makes itself known.

I shake my head and let my shadows wrap around her waist stopping her from leaving. She’s been more than patient with me and my inability to give her the attention she deserves and wants. Constantly reassuring me that she understands that I have all these duties to complete, graciously squeezing my hand when I’m held back in training with Sorrengail, even bringing me dinner on a few occasions when things were too hectic to go myself. Never forgetting to grab me something sweet and leaving it on my desk when I return to my room, almost too tired to move. And yet, I can’t help but notice the way that the tether between us has gone taught and the usual sunny demeanor she wears wavering as the days go on. 

“Come sleep in my room.” I know that I’m pushing, but I need her with me if I’m going to get even an ounce of sleep tonight. My failings be damned, she’s the only slice of peace I’ve found in this torment. “Please.”

My insomnia has been terrible since the apostasy, and she’s been the only thing that’s brought me a semblance of serenity and the ability to finally rest. Tonight though, if she’s not with me, I know it will just be tossing and turning until the morning when hopefully the anxiety would melt with the warmth of her smile. 

As she turns to me, I can see she immediately wants to say no, to put distance between us and guard herself. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that she’s been pulling away from everyone in our found family. Trying to close herself off. Trying to guard her heart. When all I want to do is make her understand how much that is the antithesis of everything I want. 

The last thing I’ve ever wanted was for her to guard her heart, especially not from me, not once she gave it to me. The burning fire of her love enveloped me the more I’ve gotten to know her, and I fear if she takes it from me, I’ll never feel the warmth of the emotion again. 

As I look at her, I can see the hesitation in her eyes, the war that wages in her beautiful stare. The openness of her expressive eyes has always drawn me in and kept me focused on only her, though the way they’ve dimmed in the last few months has been a swift dagger to my heart every time. 

With a heaving sigh she closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. “Alright.” She murmurs so quietly it barely floats to my ears. 

My own emotions are torn between elation at the fact that she’ll still be with me and knowing that everything between us isn’t alright. Before we move any further, I can’t stop myself, I take her face in my hands and kiss her slowly, gently hoping to convey just how precious she is. I only hope that she can feel every ounce of my love, of the silent, desperate plea for her to be patient with this crazy life I’ve brought her into. 

The kiss doesn’t last long before I’m pulling back and looking down into her eyes. My forehead leans on hers as I try to calm the anxiety that hasn’t fully receded, but it’s almost impossible to quash when I take in the puffy state of her eyes and the way they are rimmed in red. 

My anger and frustration are barely contained, but I know if I lash out in any way it will begin to seal the end to her patience with me. Besides, she’s not the one I’m mad at, the anger is at the situation we find ourselves in, the threat of war, the constant pull that I need to be somewhere else. On top of that, she consistently bears the threats and sneers that find their way to her because of my last name and the mark on my left arm. 

I lead her back to my room, and the walk is filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence. As we enter, I can feel her reluctance almost like it has become a separate being standing between us. Every part of me wants to kill her trepidation and reassure her in every way I possibly can, but at the same time the logical side of me knows this won’t be the last time she’s left disappointed.

Walking into the room, I turn to her and take her face in my hands again and stroke her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” I whisper as I clutch her face with a firm grip, trying to keep her with me in any way I can. 

She gives me a small tug of her lips back, but there’s no warmth or happiness in the gesture. Every single line of her face is creased in a tightness I’ve never seen before, and my eyes scan hers trying to figure out how I can reverse the damage I’ve already caused.

She pulls out of my grasp, and I let her, my hands dropping defeatedly at my side. Wordlessly, I watch as she continues her normal routine when she stays with me. She takes off her leathers and heads to the bathing chamber to wash the day off and I’m left racking my brain again. 

Although its only minutes, the time seems to drag on far too long as I sit here pacing and waiting for her to finish. The time does nothing to settle the unease that sinks its sharp claws through every soft emotion I have. The oppressive silence that has lingered keeping us from bridging the gap.

When she comes back in, she is clad only in one of my shirts, and my blood heats at the beautiful picture in front of me. I take my time letting my gaze fall up and down every curve, taking in every single line of her body and committing it to memory. I know the last thing on her mind is sex, but that doesn’t change the fact that seeing her like this turns me on every fucking time. 

My own thoughts are broken as she slams herself down on the bed and falls back into the pillow. Without looking at me, she pulls the covers over herself and turns away from me. Despair fills my mind as I rush to shower and change so that she’s not alone for longer than need be. The minute I come back; I’m sliding in bed with her. Immediately turning her to face me or at least try to. 

Even though I know she’s not sleeping, she doesn’t make it easy for me to see her face. 

“Blaze, love. Turn around, please.” I murmur softly near her ear, trying to be as coaxing and patient as possible. 

Eventually she gives in and turns to face me, seeing the additional tears that have fallen, it makes my heart crack even more. Instinctually, I move my hand to her face and gently wipe the salty tracks from her face, trying to erase every single one that has dropped from her mind. 

“I’m so sorry, Love. Please forgive me.” I stop at a loss for how to convey everything I want to say. “I lost track of time with training with Sorrengail trying to get her better with defensive positions and then I had an emergency leadership meeting. The day just went to complete shit not long after dinner.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, almost as if she’s come to a decision in her mind. “It’s alright, I forgive you.” Short. Sweet. But, most definitely not to the point. I’m not naïve to know that there’s plenty she’s not saying.

My arm drapes over her waist and I pull her closer. “Are you sure? I know I’ve been an incredible ass and have probably broken every damn promise I’ve made in the last week, hell even longer than that. I can’t imagine it’s that easy to forgive.”

The watery smile that she gives me back breaks my heart. “No, it’s not. But I know that you have things weighing you down and the last thing I want to do is add to the burdens you carry.”

My eyes flash at her statement and I immediately pull her as close as I possibly can, tightening my hold. “Please tell me you don’t think you’re a burden. That’s the absolute last thing you are to me.”

“Aren’t I though? Just one more thing you must take care of in your overly packed day.” I lay my forehead on hers as I fight back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.  

“No, Love. You are the only thing that I want to take care of in my day. It breaks me to know that you see yourself as anything less than a gift.” She closes her eyes and by the way I feel her body soften ever so slightly, the weight on my chest seems to lift faintly. 

“No matter how busy my day gets, how many times you think someone else has my priority, I need you to remember that you – YOU – are the only true priority in my life.” My eyes and tone grow as serious as I can possibly make them, trying to convey how much truth there is to the statement. 

Without responding, she leans in and kisses me. My heart soars at the possibility that she understands how vital she is to me. The kiss is all consuming and every thought flies from my head. The stress and the strain of the day completely melting away into just the feeling of her, here in my bed, wrapped in my arms and my lips attached firmly to hers. 

I pull my hand to the nape of her neck and tangle my fingers in her hair deepening the kiss, trying to pour every ounce of apology and love that I can into it. Every single nerve in my body alights with a fire that only burns with Y/N’s touch. 

Allowing the kiss to turn slow and gentle, I move my forehead back to hers. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late and I want to spend the morning slowly with you.”

“Tomorrow. Always tomorrow.” The small tight smile she gives me settles me slightly as I watch her close her eyes and begin to drift to sleep. 

“I love you.” I whisper against her skin before kissing her forehead and tucking her in closely to me. With hope that tomorrow I would be able to prioritize the beautiful girl in front of me, I drift off to sleep holding her firmly to my side. 

__________________________

As if in answer to my pleas, every god in the pantheon has conspired against me from that day. First it was watching her face fall as she saw the arsenal of daggers, I had made for Sorrengail, but I couldn’t tell her they were really at the behest of Sorrengail’s not-so-dead brother. 

Then it was the saddle at war games. I watched as her eyes lost their light and she hid behind Dhioch’s leg until everyone mounted. Not once did I see her or Dhioch on the field the entire time, a knot of worry coiled in my chest, especially when I learned of the injured from the wing. And after the insanity of the day, I didn’t even get a chance to find her when I found myself in the infirmary looking after Liam. All of us rattled after his injury.  

Next, days spent in the common room all of us studying for one of the thousands of different battle strategies that we needed to learn for our last third year exam. At first, she would join us in our studies and then as the weeks went on, she just avoided commons completely. The room losing the warmth with the continual loss of her.

I would see her in class and pull her to me every time, making sure to sit next to her, to try and get her attention. Though as days wore on, it was impossible to miss the way she kept pushing everyone away. The sunshine of a smile rarely graced her face. A laugh from her lips nearly impossible to hear. And every single time I had to walk away from her and watch her face fall, all I wanted to do is say fuck all to duty and lock us both away together.

Unfortunately, my father instilled the unwavering need to always complete my duty, sacrificing anything and everything else. The duty to Tyrrendor and Aretia as her Duke, to help those in need, the people of our land, to my family, but there was one thing my father never schooled me on. 

Love.

When my mother disappeared, my father dove into work and duty leaving the possibility of love behind. Every waking hour was spent in the service of Aretia and Tyrrendor, save for the exceptions he made to spend time with me. Though even in those times, it was mainly to remind me of everything that I needed to be ready to shoulder. The expectations in the life of a noble. Even in his tutelage, he never even alluded to the possibility of ever finding love.

Never once can I remember him telling me what or who I would need to be to love someone properly.  Even when he decided that I was to be betrothed to one of the heirs of Poromiel. 

Then after the apostasy and my father’s execution, the thought of love was such a foreign concept that I pushed it aside, exchanging it for only pleasure and detachment. 

It wasn’t until those eyes filled with warmth and life found mine and the bright smile splashed across her face broke every wall as if they had never stood in the first place. She was my absolute opposite in every way, but there was always something about her that my soul could never deny. 

As the year drew closer to the anniversary of the apostasy, my frigid demeanor did nothing to help our situation. Between Sorrengail’s persistent fishing for random things about me, the looming deadline of graduation, and the heaviness of the day, it was only a matter of time before the short leash I had on my temper erupted. 

Regrettably, it was directed at the one person who I wanted to wrap myself around and disappear with for the remainder of the day. 

“Are you going to be training with Sorrengail again tonight?” The soft whisper of her voice floated to my ears as she came up from behind me in the hall.

The frustrated growl that emanated from me started the small spark that turned into a raging wildfire between us. 

“Of course not. I’d rather be doing anything but dealing with anything or anyone inside of this godsforsaken school today.” The tone of my voice was anything but pleasant and I wanted to recoil at the devastated look on her face, but the weight of the day proved too much.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Xaden.” The icy tone that she gave back to me did nothing to help with the anger burning in my chest. “Didn’t know I was included on your list of inconveniences.”

“Gods. Why do you have to make this about you? Don’t you think for once it doesn’t need to be about you wallowing in the hole of self-pity you’ve dug for yourself?” The accusation in my tone is uncalled for, along with my words, but I’m at my wits end and don’t care. No one has ever told me anything helpful comes through anger, but that doesn’t stop the rage coiling inside me. Even though she is more than justified and I’m not.

‘If you keep pushing the Devoted One, you may find yourself regretting your words.’ Sgaeyl tries to knock some sense into me, but I can’t help the fire that seems to burn through every thought. 

“If that’s how you feel then I will gladly take my wallowing elsewhere Xaden.” Her defiant tone makes my nostrils flare as she turns and begins to walk away from me, but not before calling over her shoulder. “In fact, you can just forget about me all together. Be well, wingleader.”

The voice at the back of my head is screaming at me that I’m an idiot and I need to immediately go after her and apologize. However, the anger and despair that has made a home in my chest over the last few days at the anniversary of my father’s death causes me walk away in the other direction. 

When the day of the apostasy arrives, I haven’t seen the only sunlight in my life outside of classes. Every single time I try to get her attention, just to get her to look at me, she exquisitely avoids every attempt. Slipping through my fingers at every turn, even though I’ve been searching for her. 

‘You can only brood about one thing at a time.’ Sgaeyl tries to tease through our bond, knowing that my mind is split in two directions.

As I sit on the parapet staring at the star speckled sky and the moon that illuminates charred corners of my soul, the replay of my last conversation with my Blaze sits heavily on my mind. The words said to her in anger reflecting the same way I spoke to my father the last time I saw him. If there is anything in this world that I don’t want, it is for her to leave me as abruptly as my father did. Especially not to words only spoken out of fear and anger.

‘Seems you have other problems to deal with first.’ Sgaeyl purrs through my mind, a small hint of amusement in her tone. 

My brows furrow until I turn to the right and see a sight I never thought I would. Violet fucking Sorrengail is walking out on the parapet in a dress, aimed straight for me.

“Go back. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sorrengail?” I toss at her but am unsure if my voice has carried over the wind.

I eat up the steps between us quickly to make sure that I don’t end up dying from the utter stupidity of this woman. She may be smart, but she lacks common fucking sense. 

“Coming to check on the brooding Wingleader. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you and L/N have been distant of late.” Violet states as if she has been observing my personal relationship with a scrutiny well beyond passing interest. 

“The state of my relationship isn’t any of your concern. I’m only involved with you because of our mated dragons, nothing more, nothing less.” I can only hope that the firm tone in my voice will stop her incessant questions, because all they are doing is putting me more on edge about losing the girl that has seemed to disappear from this damned school.

“Come now Xaden, you can’t expect me to believe that you don’t harbor any feelings for me. An arsenal of weapons, a saddle, one on one training, I’m pretty sure you’ve spent more time with me this year than the girl you claim as yours.” The words hit home in a way that makes my heart crack open wide, a sharp dagger straight to the center of my heart. It isn’t because she’s wrong, no, it’s because every single thing she just said is absolutely right.

Taking a moment to look to the sky, the stars seem to mock me as they sparkle brightly in stark opposition to my entire life. I take a deep breath to center myself and my mind clicks. There is only one place that I’m going, one place I really want to be, and I need Violet to get her ass back to the citadel to do it.

“Look, you can think whatever you want, but there is a girl in that citadel I need to see, and it isn’t you. So, you need to get yourself back on solid ground.” I firmly grip her shoulders and turn her, beginning to march her back towards the opening.

She stutter steps and brings us both to a halt, irritating me further. “You can’t honestly tell me that I mean nothing to you.”

“Violet, I would be lying if I said I haven’t come to care about you. But you are a friend, at most.” The irritation in my voice is clear, though I mean the words I say. “However, there is a girl in there that I’m in love with, and I need to remind her right now, so get moving.”

I don’t miss the irritated huff leaving Violet’s mouth, but luckily for me she begins moving again. The last thing I want to do is have to sit here and explain to her why I would never choose her first. The minute we step down from the parapet, I’m about to begin a sprint to get to the girl that I’m wishing was with me when the blast of an alarm blares into the night. 

Fuck. 

Every thought leaves my mind as I begin racing to my room instead of towards the girl I’m desperate to see. Meeting Garrick in the hall, he informs me of what he knows as I head to my room to begin strapping the other weapons I left behind to my back and empty sheathes. Conferring about the squad, he leaves with his orders to gather those that are important and give them their orders.

Once I enter my room, I stop dead in my tracks. There, on my desk, rests a plate with the largest piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen. As I examine it, I find the only other thing left there is a fork. No note. No indication of where it comes from, but there is no need. There is only one other person that can cross my wards, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Even with our fight and my uncalled-for anger, she still is there to make sure I’m taken care of. A talent of hers that I know I don’t deserve.

Making sure I don’t feel forgotten.

Finally walking onto the dais with the cadre of Basgiath, I let my gaze wander over fourth wing and search for the one person that I need. Locking eyes on her, it is impossible to get her attention. She stands there at attention, silent with a stare that is unmoving in front of her. Her squad moves around her, conversations carrying between them, but the look in her eyes is the most vacant I’ve ever seen. She may have made sure I wasn’t alone today, but that doesn’t mean that she hasn’t felt alone and forgotten. My chest tightens when I realize that I may have irrevocably torn up and threw away the only thing in my life that matters, all while having to deal with fucking war games.

After orders are given, I prowl off the dais and Garrick meets me. “I told the others everything. Imogen was directed to let Y/N know she’s with us.”

“The other issue is going to be Sorrengail.” I relay as we begin marching back to our rooms to pack for war games. “I don’t want to take her, but I’m unsure if Tairn will be willing to leave Sgaeyl.”

‘I think you already know the answer to that.’ Sgaeyl huffs, confirming my suspicions.

“Y/N will understand Xaden. She’s always been the one to understand everything you have going on, that she knows about at least.” Garrick tries to placate me, but the look he gives me means even he knows that the tether between Y/N and I is too thin. It isn’t the first time that I’ve wondered if I’ve made the right call leaving Y/N out of the loop regarding the aid we’ve been rendering and the true threats we face.

I close my eyes and blow out a frustrated sigh. “I’m hoping that she can give me this before she just walks away.”

Scoffing, I shake my head. “I never thought this year would be so complicated. And now, we’re about to graduate and most likely won’t even be at the same duty station.”

“I know you, Xaden. If you love her like I think you do, you’ll find a way. You just have to trust that what you’ve built can withstand the storm.” Garrick claps me on the shoulder and squeezes, a silent gesture that he’ll be there no matter what.

I give him a quick nod in acknowledgement and then trudge into my room to finish packing for whatever insanity the cadre has prepared for us this time. Without time to enjoy it, I wrap the cake and add it to my pack hoping that I can share it with my Blaze once everything gets settled. A few minutes later, I’m heading to the flight field and the anxiety swirling in the air has become oppressive, a blanket of unease woven tightly over every single cadet and dragon in the field.

“Something seems different than past war games.” Bodhi muses as he comes up on my left. Chancing a look at him, I can see he is just as tightly wound as I am. 

“Considering our directive is to Athebyne, I don’t have any warm and fuzzy feelings about what’s going to be waiting for us.” I confirm to Bodhi as Garrick comes up on the other side.

I motion for Garrick to follow me, and he comes without question. As I’m scanning the flight field, it’s impossible not to notice that Dhioch is the last dragon in the line of riders. Brows furrowing, I don’t let myself focus on it too much, as this isn’t the time for me to have the conversation I want to have.

As we stride toward my Blaze, I see it again, the way the fight drained from her eyes leaving behind an almost vacant look. Anxiety claws its way back into my heart the closer I get to her. She’s looking directly at me, but it feels as if she’s looking through me, registering absolutely nothing.

“I assume Imogen told you that you’re coming with us.” The words leave my mouth, and my tone is nothing but business, belying the fact that I want to be anything but just business with her.

“Yes.” One word. The only thing she gives me. One single word. No emotion, no fight, just stated plainly. The claws in my chest squeeze and I can feel myself walking the knife’s edge, my control hanging on by the barest of threads.

I look over at Garrick and I can see the worry in his eyes causing me to swallow thickly, my stomach dropping. Garrick gives her an understanding look and turns heading back to our group. I can’t help but stand as an immovable statue, everything in me wants to crack, to take her in my arms and remind her how special she is, how much I need her to know that she’s important, but I give her a curt nod and turn away. 

Every single nerve in my body is alight with unease. My steps back towards the rest of the group are sure, but inside the tempest raging is testing my control. From my peripherals I can see shadows begin to writhe in agitation, responding to the pulsing of power and apprehension that’s coursing through my veins. 

Another question floats through my mind. Why is she so far away from everyone? Dhioch may not be as large as Sgaeyl, but she’s one of the most powerful in our year, size only slightly smaller than Chradh. My questions and worry must be loud enough to discomfort Sgaeyl, because she lowers her head and gives me a look that tells me she knows more than I do.

As I finally reach Garrick, he’s gathered with Bodhi and Liam probably going over the plans once we get to Athebyne. Until I get close enough to hear their conversation.

“I think it’s more than just feeling inconsequential. I’ve never seen her pull into such a shell of herself.” Bodhi’s words float to my ears as his back is turned to me. My stomach turns to lead and as soon as I reach the group, all our gazes look back and fall to the girl who was only ever a glowing ray of light in a life of unnatural grey. 

As if pulled by our gazes, I watch as her eyes meet ours though nothing passes through her gaze. Staring at those eyes that have been my undoing, I set my resolve that as soon as we are out of the confines of Basgiath, I’m going to tell her everything. I’m exhausted from trying to hide everything and I refuse to let the last tether between us go. 

My own plans for my Blaze solidified, I call out for the squad and mount Sgaeyl. “Headquarters squad, let’s go.”

Taking to the skies only quickens the pace of my heart. Though it’s impossible to sift through the anxiety that eats at me for the entirety of the six and a half hours it takes to reach the lake outside of Athebyne. I’m sitting on tenterhooks by the time Sgaeyl begins her descent to the lake. It’s only sharpened when I realize that Dhioch never seemed to catch up to the riot completely, for some reason they had launched significantly later than the rest of the squad.

Dismounting I can’t help but scan the skies looking for any trace of Dhioch’s scales. Scanning the area quickly, since I’ve been here more than a few times for drops. ‘The Devoted One is about ten minutes behind us.’ Sgaeyl confirms and it makes my heart race faster.

‘Why did they launch so much later? And why are they flying slower than usual?’ I can’t keep the questions in when Sgaeyl confirms that they are so far behind from where I’d prefer my Blaze to be.

‘You will have to speak to the Devoted One.’ Sgaeyl confirms as I walk towards Garrick.

“Where’s Y/N?” Garrick immediately asks as he makes his way towards where I stand.

“Sgaeyl says she and Dhioch are about ten minutes behind us. We should see them coming in to land soon.” I confirm, my voice even, but from what I can see my best friend is more than aware that I’m barely holding myself together.

“Are you finally going to tell her everything Xaden? At this point, I don’t think you are helping your cause.” Ever the practical one, Garrick knows what I need to do before even I do. 

“Yes, I was hoping I would have just a few minutes with her here, but it isn’t looking like tha–.” My thoughts are cutoff. 

‘A drift approaches.’ Sgaeyl’s voice splits into my thoughts and I’m moving.

Throwing shadows around Violet, I rush towards the rocks where she was speaking with Liam, other heavy footfalls following close behind. All thoughts abandon me as I try to figure out how I’m going to explain this to a Sorrengail of all people. 

As I make my way towards the fliers, my eyes narrow when I see Syrena step forward. Placing myself ahead of Violet, I let the shadows fall and she steps up next to me. It’s more than obvious she’s ready to pounce on them as the enemy, but I’m not going to let it get that far.

“Why the fuck are you here Syrena?” The dark lilt of my voice shows my obvious distaste for their idiotic decisions. 

The moment the words leave my mouth, I can hear Violet gasp. The sizzle of Violet’s power bites as it begins to pierce the air and I immediately turn to Liam, my eyes begging him to contain her. He steps up and wraps her up tight, but not before she decides to give the fliers a light show and call for her menace of a dragon.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath as I parse forward to figure out exactly why we’ve been graced with this unplanned visit.

“We’ve come to warn you.” Syrena confirms and I cock an eyebrow. The fliers may be many things but generously warning us of impending raids they plan to execute is usually not one of them.

“Warn us about what exactly? Are you intending on raiding another outpost? You know that we have a planned meeting for tomorrow.” I chance a glance back at Violet and see the shock on her face. I silently let out a huff. Good. Maybe now she’ll back the fuck off. 

“Venin.” Syrena lets the word settle before continuing. “A horde is heading north after they decimated a village in the vicinity two days ago. It seems they are heading directly in the path of your outpost at Athebyne.”

“We’re armed and heading to Athebyne.” I confirm, before Syrena nods in acknowledgment.

“Signal if you can get away from those that still wear their rose-colored glasses.” Syrena says while flicking her gaze to Violet. Syrena turns on her heels and the fliers begin to walk back towards their mounts. 

Taking a deep breath, the flash of copper in my peripherals brings my gaze up to see Y/N still seated on top of Dhioch as if she has been watching the entire ordeal. Her face looks impassive not a hint of surprise or anger on her face, but it’s the small seething girl in front of me that tears my focus away. Again.

‘Fucking. Traitor.’ Sorrengail’s thoughts are so loud, even without the bond and my signet, I’d be able to read them plainly on her face. 

I can see the pain on Liam’s face at the words that she’s beginning to hurl at him. Accusation after accusation, as if she isn’t completely in the dark of what is actually going on. 

“Stop Sorrengail.” My words are a command, and she immediately whirls on me, fire burning in her eyes. 

“Stop?” Her tone goes low, showing her shallow control. “What exactly am I supposed to stop? You are all fucking traitors and –.”

I don’t let her finish.

“That is what you think, but you have absolutely no idea what is going on outside of the protective wards you’ve grown up in.” It’s obvious the way my words hit home as I watch her begin to squirm, her anger however hasn’t been tamed if the electricity in the air is anything to go by.

“Everything the fliers just said is true. The venin are real and they are threatening everything outside of our borders. They’ve been spreading like an infestation since before my father tried to expose Navarre’s lies.” Pausing, I give her a moment to absorb everything she’s just learned. I keep my mind open, trying to make sure she doesn’t decide to wield and measure her willingness to believe everything I’m saying is true.

I watch as her gaze goes in and out of focus, obviously confirming everything with Tairn. As she begins to work through her fury, her stance begins to soften slightly, and I know it’s to the unfortunate realization that this is the truth. 

I don’t stop my explanation. I tell her about the weapons and give her one of the alloyed daggers I have strapped to my thigh, watching as she takes it in her fingers and feels the power thrumming through it. My mind is so focused on the volatile lightning wielder before me, all other thoughts have completely left me. 

“You expect me to believe that the cadre of Navarre know all about the venin and refuse to do anything about it.” Violet snipes clearly reticent about the reality that this has been hid from her.

“Yes.” There’s no reason to elaborate, no reason to try and convince her, because if what the fliers said was true, she’s not only learning they’re real, but also, going to be seeing them ourselves.

“If what the fliers say is accurate, I don’t need to convince you. We’ll all be able to see it with our own eyes.”

With that I turn and head towards Sgaeyl, my thoughts in and out of focus between everything that’s happened in the last hour.

“Let’s go.” I call out as I mount Sgaeyl, and we launch headed direct for the outpost.

‘How much did Y/N hear or see?’ I question Sgaeyl, because again she’s too far for me to even gauge an ounce of what she is thinking.

‘Dhioch isn’t speaking with me.’ My heart jumps into my throat at Sgaeyl’s response. ‘However, she was in range the minute I confirmed there was a drift.’

Looking back, I cannot even see the gleam of Dhioch’s copper color and fear again grips me at the thought that I’m going to lose her. I’m fighting for a cause that at every turn seems to do nothing but tear away every single ounce of happiness I’ve ever found, and yet I know I can’t stop. 

I found a woman that was more forgiving than anyone had the right to be, constantly assuaging the doubts I had over the time I didn’t get to spend with her. A woman who accepted every dark part of me, helped put every broken piece back together. 

Then the additional challenges of General Sorrengail and Brennan’s requests this past year have torn every ounce of grace that my Blaze had ever given me to sunders. Every shard of trust and love built between us torn down for people that would love to see me dead, for a favor I was forced to keep in order to save the lives of children that didn’t deserve their cruelty. A choice that I made because it was the only option left.

My mind spinning, I don’t notice the absolute silence that greets my ears from the fortress as we descend. It isn’t until Sgaeyl lands that I realize we are truly alone at one of the most strategic outposts possible.

Dismounting, I take a quick count, again realizing that we are still short one rider.

‘Tell me the minute they land.’ I know better than to order around Sgaeyl, but I’m more than sure she can feel every single emotion I have that is running wild.

Walking into the outpost the eerie silence spills over every single nook and cranny. I let shadows spill out, crawling and swirling into every crack and crevice trying to find any sign of life, but they come up blank. Every single brick, every crack in the wooden beams scream of nothing but silence and stillness. The largest enemy to any army.

The wind suddenly whips through the open gate, and I look left to right taking in the leery gazes of those around me. Anxiety written plainly on every single face.

‘Dhioch just landed.’ Sgaeyl slithers swiftly into my mind, but I don’t let my focus waver.

“Divide and search. From what I can tell, the outpost is deserted.” I turn looking to the group, my focus hardening to the reality we are about to face. “Report back anything you find.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see Y/N come into view, but before I can so much as step towards her, she mounts the staircase to her right. Taking a deep breath, I direct Liam and Violet to follow me to the open-air observation point. 

Climbing the stairs has my lungs and legs burning, the exertion helping my trepidation to cool slightly, narrowing my focus. Stepping foot onto the observation point, we have more than a clear view of the town of Resson just outside of Navarrian borders. A small, sleeping village that is about to be the scene of a gruesome enemy.

“There’s no way they would empty a strategic outpost just for war games.” Violet mumbles next to me and I huff a breath at her insistence to believe that the cadre aren’t just as nefarious in their ways to eliminate those they deem as any kind of threat.

“Liam, tell me what you can see.” I ignore Violet and get to the entire point of slogging up this tower, though a thought pricks at my mind, and I turn to her.

“When was the last time your precious best friend touched your face?” My question obviously catches her off-guard and she turns to me.

“What?” She stammers.

“Dain. When did he last touch your face?” I ask bluntly, my patience wearing thin. “Did he touch you after I told you about Athebyne?”

The reality of everything begins crashing into me as a booming voice calls out. “We found the directive.”

Garrick and Imogen kick up their pace and, in an instant, he’s handing me a missive scrawled with my name.

“That’s Colonel Aetos’ handwriting.” Violet confirms as Garrick takes a step back. I tear the seal and the panic that seizes me is immense.

“This isn’t a war game. This is war and we’ve been handed our sentence.” My voice is even, though panic and fury are coursing through my veins. 

Garrick takes the missive from my hands and begins to read the words himself. His muttered curse is telling to everyone around us and then he reads the words aloud giving voice to the anxiety crawling up my spine.

“We either abandon Resson or abandon command of fourth wing.” He states, looking up directly at me.

“No, not we. Me. This is a test meant for me.” Letting the resignation course through me, the weight of my decisions pressing in on every side, I’m brought out of my thoughts as an explosion booms and Liam gasps. 

“Those were the gates of the village, and the fliers were right. There are four venin headed into the town now. There’s one that seems to be leading, creepy red veins and eyes that could steal your soul, with a large staff.” The minute he finishes speaking, everyone flies to the wall of the turret and strains to look at the enemy looming down on the town.

“There’s nothing to see down there.” Bodhi complains while leaning over the wall, far too far for comfort.

Liam pulls him back to the ground before replying. “Yes, there is and they’re coming for Resson.”

“They are. You should all take your riot and fly as fast as you can out of here.” Syrena says as she comes up next to the group. “We can see that your cadre already evacuated the outpost.”

“You don’t want us to fight?” Garrick asks, surprise on his face.

“No, you’re not ready. How many of you have even seen combat, let alone battle venin. Two is more than enough to decimate everything and everyone down there. Four of them will leave nothing and no one behind.” Syrena’s face hardens as she continues to explain the truth of the situation we find ourselves in. “Take your riot and get out of here as fast as you can.”

Before I can form words, she’s heading back down the turret and back towards her drift. I close my eyes, letting my options settle in my mind.

‘I am with you. We will not leave those who cannot defend themselves. I have never turned from a fight, and I will not start today.’ Sgaeyl confirms, solidifying the decision I’d already made. 

Turning back to everyone, I look at each of them and can’t help the way my chest clenches at the thought of putting them all in danger. As much as I want to keep each and every one of these people safe, I know that is not the world we were born to.

"I refuse to leave those who cannot defend themselves. Though I won’t command any of you to join me. I’ve already made decisions for you by forcing you to join the quadrant and fight for your life there. I will not take your decision away from you now.” My words are firm as I continue to parse over our group, more than aware we are still missing one person.

‘The Devoted One is with you as well. Her and Dhioch are going to sweep the perimeter once we launch.’ Sgaeyl confirms as I continue to wait for the decisions of those around me. The confirmation does nothing to calm my thoughts or emotions, putting her in harm’s way is the last thing I want to do.

Garrick is then the first to move, his hand clasped hard on my shoulder. “In it till the end, remember? I’m not changing my mind now.” His hand squeezes hard on my shoulder and I can see the determination shining in his eyes.

“We’ve been the defenseless ones. You shouldered that responsibility for us, cousin, now it is time to repay you and those who cannot defend themselves.” Bodhi responds as he comes up to flank my left side.

Liam and Imogen follow suit. It isn’t long before Eya, Cirian, Masen, and Soleil also join, until the last person standing in front of me is Sorrengail.

“I know what it’s like to be vulnerable. Now I have the power to fight, and I will not waste it.” Violet states and I nod my head in acknowledgement.

As Violet goes on to recount details of the venin from her memories of the book of fables, Liam gives a detailed report of the venin whereabouts, and I analyze the skills we have at our fingertips with those present. A tiny voice at the back of my mind whispers that someone with more battle experience, more strategic knowledge should be making these calls, but I squash it as soon as it rises because there is no time to doubt. 

Soon enough, directives have been delivered, and each rider is descending the staircase heading to their respective dragons. My mind wants to spiral, but I lock down every single thing that isn’t related to the battle we’re facing. 

I cannot let my focus be stolen.

“What about Y/N?” Bodhi asks as he begins to walk towards Cuir.

I give him a tight sad smile before replying. “She’s with us. Just like we always thought she would be.” 

The smile he returns is rueful, with just a hint of mischief. “I always told you she was special Xaden. Now you just have to survive so you can grovel.”

I roll my eyes at him before running up Sgaeyl’s leg and mounting. Searching for copper scales, I’m disappointed to find them already floating above us. The minute before we launch a screech I’ve never heard before tears through the air and all heads turn to see a grey form in the distance.

“That’s a wyvern! There are two legs, not four.” Violet calls out and everyone’s gaze tears back to the sky and we all watch as blue fire spits from its mouth. 

“Now that we are all aware of the variables, anyone want to fly for Eltuval?” I ask over the rising panic from the village. Looking to the left and right no one confirms they want to change their minds. “Then get as many people to safety as you can and remember only use the alloyed blade to fight the venin.”

Without hesitating the sky begins to rush up as Sgaeyl launches and races to get a higher vantage. The city below us is burning, smoke and ash billowing in the skies. Plumes of smoke in colors I’ve never seen swirl with a ferocity of magic. The smell holding a foul odor unlike dragon fire. 

Civilians scream as they try to find cover, running left and right looking for anything sturdy enough to hide in. Chaos is a living breathing thing as we all descend trying to find the best location to get everyone to safety.

Devastation already rules throughout the town, bodies of the fallen strewn about, mothers crying over their children holding their limp bodies with desperation, and children slumped over their mothers’ lifeless forms. Nothing we experience at Basgiath could possibly prepare you for the scene that has begun to unfold.

‘Soleil and Laim are on the ground evacuating townspeople to a mine.’ Sgaeyl confirms as we fly directly into the path of an oncoming wyvern. The gleaming teeth barred in our direction dripping with scarlet blood only adding to the menace of the beast. Sgaeyl banks quickly and in the blink of an eye tears through the neck of the grey beast, blood now dripping down her maw in the same menacing way.

‘Good, let’s get to the edge of town and clear what we can. It seems there is something they are looking for near the clock tower.’ My voice is firm, and my focus locked on getting as many innocent people to safety as we can.

Heading to the outskirts of the town, the flash of Dhioch’s scales fly underneath Sgaeyl and my breath catches when I realize there’s no rider.

‘Stop your worry. The Devoted One is evacuating a child that was separated from their parents.’ Sgaeyl calls as we continue our course to the edge of town. I take a deep breath, letting the knowledge calm my unease.

Stones topple and crumble as we make it to the walls of the village, looking down, I see a venin heading straight for a group of civilians. Robes billowing as they stride with a manic gleam in their terrifying scarlet eyes. Rolling from Sgaeyl’s back, I land in front of the frightened group and grab an alloyed dagger strapped at my hip.

“Ah, a rider, always so reckless. Always trying to play the hero.” The rasp of a voice grates on my ears, nails to the chalkboard of my mind. I let the shadows coil around my feet, threatening and taunting, coiling them towards the venin as he stands there as if analyzing my power.

Before I can register, the sound of rock crumbling has gaze focusing on the people behind me. “Let’s see if those shadows can save them.” The venin taunts as he hurtles a large stone towards a group of children.

Raising my hands, shadows lash out and drag the rock backwards hurtling it back into the wall.

“Shadows.” He sneers in contemplation. “My sage will be so proud once you join the fold.” My eyes flash at his words.

“I can guarantee I will die before I join your ranks.” I spit back and hoist the blade in my hand to strike. My focus is broken again when two roars sound simultaneously.

‘Xaden! Deigh is dying! Liam needs you!’ Violet’s voice pierces through my mind and my focus turns. My grip tightens but turning back to my target, find him gone. Rounding on the civilians, I alert them to where the rest of their townsfolk are hunkering down and call for Sgaeyl.

‘Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me we can save Deigh and Liam.’ The pause that follows tells me everything I need to know as we fly as fast as we can to where I can see Tairn hovering over two small forms.

All at once the weight of everything I’m losing begins crashing down around me. The cost of battle. The cost of my own decisions.

Liam. 

The best of us. The one who always brought sunshine and smiles. The one person who always knew when to push my buttons. The person who brought me back from the brink. The one who always saw through my facades. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. Loyal to a fault. Wood shavings following him everywhere. Laughter and warmth emanating from every pore. He’s dying and there is nothing I can do to fix it.

“Liam.” His name feels like lead in my mouth as I crash down next to Violet. Looking up at her, tears flowing down her cheeks, it takes every ounce of control still within me not to break apart. 

“Take me to Deigh.” Liam whispers and brings my focus back down to him. 

“Of course, Brother.” The words almost lodge in my throat, but I choke them out as I get to my feet and lift him in my arms. The weight of him dragging me down as the truth of the moment begins to pull at every ounce of my shattered heart.

“It shouldn’t be you.” The words rend from me in a whisper. I just can’t control the anguish that is rushing through me in a torrent of uncontrollable emotion. “It should’ve never been you.”

“I made my choice, brother.” Liam chokes out as he brings his eyes to mine, laying him down next to the broken body of Deigh. The injustice at the situation flies like fury through my mind, he’s here, whole and unharmed, and yet we are losing him. Losing the sunshine to my clouds of our found family. I try to drag my mind from the pain of our reality, but I’m lost to the oblivion of grief. 

It’s Liam’s soft words that brings my focus back. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” My response so quiet I can barely hear it in my own ears. 

“Promise me you’ll find happiness with Y/N.” Liam whispers as his breathing begins to slow. “You deserve to be happy Xaden, and everyone knows that she’s it for you. And take care of Violet and Sloane too. They all need you, Xaden.”

The tears snake down my cheeks unbidden now. I can’t hold the emotion in any longer. Liam never questioned his loyalty to me, never once doubted my orders, and is dying because of my decisions. Yet his concern isn’t for himself. It’s for everyone around him and their chances at happiness.

“I promise I will try my hardest to find that happiness, but it won’t be the same without you.” It’s impossible to keep the tide of tears away. Another person that means the world to me being ripped away. Another burden of grief falling into the chasm that won’t seem to fill. 

“You are the best of us, brother and you deserve so much more than this.” The words are choked from my throat as I squeeze Liam’s hand brining my forehead to his. A sad smile curls across his lips as a sharp screech tears through the air. 

“I love you brother.” As soon as the words leave my lips, Liam’s head rolls to the side and his eyes slide shut. I let my head drop and a rough, unfiltered scream rips through my lungs. Every single ounce of anguish, fear, sorrow, and hatred rolled up into a sound that breaks even my own heart. Shadows tear from my body filling the field around us in a shock of darkness before I reign them in, the sounds of the battle coming back into focus.

They killed Liam. They will all die. 

The feeling of vengeance coursing through me as I find myself back at Violet’s side. As soon as I arrive, we both look up to see two wyverns with venin on their backs. An entire horde of wyvern careening quickly towards those we are trying so desperately to save.

“Go.” I command as she stands, determination etched on every line of her face. “You’ll have to be the one to take the venin down. I’ll cover you for as long as I can.”

Before she can reply, I let the shadows absorb the valley and plant my feet. My mind racing at the losses we’ve faced already, and we haven’t even killed half of the venin here. 

Violet’s emotions bleed through the bond as she focuses on revenge, the acrid tang coating every pore. Standing here concentrating on holding back the wyvern, I let her emotions roll through me. The taste of death for these creatures who have taken so much a sweet balm to the bitter taste of loss. 

I watch those in battle around me, trying desperately to find a way to help them all. My focus is suddenly broken as I feel Violet’s shock and pain flare. Looking up, I can see her on Tairn’s back facing off with a female venin.

Splitting my power, I let the shadows cover Tairn’s back. 

‘Use your advantage.’ I send to her, directing her to take the death blow. The minute I see the venin fall from Tairn’s back, I drop the shadows from them and let them melt back into covering the valley.

‘You have to drop the shadows. I have a plan.’ Violet sends through the bond as Tairn flies towards the remaining wyvern.

‘I can’t it’s the only thing keeping those fuckers out.’ I bite back, but there’s no mistaking the waver in my voice. Fire has begun to lick at my veins from the amount of power that I’m trying to maintain, but I won’t let myself falter. 

I can’t.

‘If you have a single ounce of trust in me, you’ll drop them. Now!’ Violet shoots back and I’m faltering straining to keep my power in check, so I know this is happening one way or another.

The minute they drop, I’m sprinting. My body feels like lead between the emotions and exertions of the day, but I can’t stop. I won’t. There’s no room to falter, no space for hesitation. I only concentrate on pumping the air in and out of my lungs as I continue my run.

Sgaeyl is there waiting, and I mount faster than I ever have in my life as we fly towards Tairn and Violet. I know that I must keep her alive if I’m going to keep my promise to Liam. Keep the promise to myself.

‘I’ll kill one and you take the other. Once they are dead, the wyvern will fall.’ Violet’s voice slices through my focus and I don’t miss the way it’s laced with pain.

Trailing behind Tairn, I suddenly feel myself caught in a vortex that feels both foreign and familiar. Time seems to stand still as I watch in horror hoping that we aren’t about to meet an unfortunate end. A band seems to snap and the battle resumes, the crackle of white-hot energy zings around us and a bolt flies from the sky and strikes the venin in a direct hit. 

My gaze is stolen from the scene as I watch another wyvern begin a direct path to Tairn, I let shadows fly forming a lasso around the venin and pull it towards me with all the force I can muster. The venin bears down on my hand, and directly onto the alloyed blade in my outstretched arm. 

As soon as I look back towards Tairn, the world seems to stop and my heart leaps into my throat as Violet’s body falls from his back. 

“Violet!” I scream and Sgaeyl uses every ounce of energy she has left to reach her falling body. Cutting through the sky, my hands grasping her pommel with every ounce of strength I have left, I can’t help but think that we aren’t going to make it. We aren’t close enough and Violet is falling too fast.

Before I can overthink it again, I watch as a flash of gold is suddenly in front of us, that same vortex coming and breaking again. Andarna’s appearance helps to stop Violet’s rapid descent until Sgaeyl is underneath her. Andarna rolls slightly and Violet falls into my arms, her unconscious form lulling against my chest.

‘Tell everyone to meet by the gates.’ I tell Sgaeyl as she begins her descent to the ground.

I dismount and take the time to look for the wound that caused Violet to fall. The breath leaves my lungs when I see there is a blade sticking out of her side. But it isn’t the blade that concerns me, it’s the blood flowing from the wound. As I pull my hand away, there is no mistaking that everything about this wound is wrong. 

Her blood is black.

Fuck.

Footsteps rush to where we are, and I look up into battle scared faces and exhaustion. I try to take in everyone around me, but my mind is racing a thousand miles a minute trying to decide the best action to take. It’s once my gaze locks on Garrick that I make my decision.

“You need to take her to Riorson House. You need to get her to Brennan. Quickly.” I say to him, although its more of an order than a request.

“Are you really sure that’s the best idea?” Garrick questions, though his intentions may be good, I don’t have time for hesitation.

“It’s the only idea. We need a few days to regroup and make decisions. She wanted to fight, so now she gets to keep the secrets just like we do.” I say as I stand and lift Violet’s limp body.

Garrick doesn’t question anymore as he shoulders Violet’s body from me. In the blink of an eye both he and Chradh are gone and the rest of us are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

‘She better survive this, Wingleader.’ Tairn’s voice pours through my mind and there’s no hiding the menace behind the words.

The sound of wings beat, and I know that Tairn has taken flight in the direction of his injured rider. Tairn can be as angry as he wants and question all my choices, as long as she survives. Spinning on my heels, I’m met with Sgaeyl’s snout and her golden stare.

Brows furrowing, apprehension begins to curl in my chest at her continued stare. Something in her eyes causes the dread in my chest to spike again.

‘What?’ I send to her, though she doesn’t respond at first.

‘You should take care of your brother.’ The thought hits me in the chest as a fresh wave of grief tumbles over me. It’s that grief and reminder that causes my gaze to begin searching.

Scanning over every single face gathered around me, taking in every single wound, smear of blood, and eyes full of pain an exhaustion.  However, my heart stops when I realize that one pair of eyes is missing. Turning I let myself glance over every dragon that stands behind Sgaeyl and my breath catches in my throat.

Dhioch stands staring at me. Her golden eyes are shining with anger, the blaze so hot I’m not sure how she hasn’t scorched me yet. Whipping back around, I nearly fall as I look over those gathered again. I don’t know how many times I look to each person before the reality begins filtering in, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

“Y/N.” Her name leaves my lips in a whisper so low I’m not sure anyone even heard me. Without thinking, I let my shadows roam free, asking them to find her, to search every single inch of the village around us. 

Seconds tick by, then minutes. I don’t know how long I let them search but by the time every inch of the village has been rummaged through several times over, my emotions are so high I’m uncertain as to how I’m standing. Tracing the devastation of the town, it barely compares yo the feeling growing in my own chest.

I can feel how pale my face has gone. Cold sweat beading at my forehead and running down my clothed back. My heart in my throat as they continue to roam, my heartrate beating a staccato in my chest, daring to break free the longer they search with no results.

“Xaden.” Bodhi steps next to me, concern lacing his features. “What’s going on?”

I turn and look at him, but my focus is so scattered, I feel like I’m looking through him.

“She’s gone.” The words leave my mouth in a choke, as if my mouth can barely string the words together. Any semblance left of my world shattering with the realization.

Bodhi glances around, his brows furrowing as he tries to untangle what exactly I’m trying to say. I watch as realization finally dawns on his face and his brows rise in shock.

“She’s gone?” He repeats, but as a question. I nod slightly as I turn back to look at Dhioch.

‘Is that what you were trying to tell me, Sgaeyl?’ The words flow through my mental bond so low, I’m unsure if I really thought them. 

As soon as I finish the thought, Sgaeyl brings her snout to me and gives me a gentle nudge. That one movement causes the dam to break. The shadows that I had tight control on leave in the second torrent of the day and my eyes begin to fill with tears as I raise my face to the ashen sky. 

Taking measured steps, I walk to the crumbling outer walls of the town. Holding the tears at bay proves the only thing I can control until I find myself sinking to my knees next to boulders that used to stand proud and firm in protection of the decimated village. As soon as my knees hit the dirt and jagged rocks, the flood finally breaks, uncontrollable sobs wracking my body. 

Trembling, I can’t stop the emotions as they barrel through me. Failure is an anvil on my chest at my inability to save those who deserved to live, and the crushing realization that the woman I love is gone taking my breath. 

Air. There’s absolutely no air.

Nothing I do will pull the breath back into my lungs. My soul is crushed from the weight of Soleil and Liam’s deaths, Violet being hurt, and now realizing that the one thing I was fighting for is gone.

‘You are stronger than this, Xaden. You cannot let them win. Falling here will not bring her back to you.’ Sgaeyl knows that pretty words won’t bring me back from the brink. Her voice is stern and unwavering, a solid command to bring me back to myself.

‘There isn’t any way for you to find her? What if she’s hurt? Does Dhioch know if she’s safe? She wasn’t taken, was she?’ The barrage of questions tumbles through my scattered mind trying to grasp and claw at any single piece of information, at any way that this isn’t real.

‘Dhioch won’t give me details, but she does confirm that she can no longer feel their bond.’ Sgaeyl’s voice carries an undercurrent of concern, and the information causes my mind to blank and finally focus.

As air begins to fill my lungs again, my mind sharpens the fog of grief lifting slightly. ‘What do you mean she can’t feel their bond? How can Dhioch know she’s alive if she can’t feel her.’

I refuse to bring voice to the one question that truly plagues my mind. If she can’t feel a bond than certainly, she has to be -. 

NO.

I refuse.

I will not let this be the end. 

I will not let myself even think of the possibility of that outcome.

The emptiness I felt just moments ago is now filled with rage. How can she be gone? How can her bond to her dragon be breached? What was she thinking? 

At least the rage is a comfort, something familiar. I let the feeling wrap around me, steeling me from the turbulent emotions of grief and sorrow. I will not drown. I will find her and bring her back. I won’t stop until she’s by my side again.

Every single step back to the group shores my resolve. By the time I reach them, my usual stoic mask is back in place, and I refuse to let any of them see me break. If I break, it means I’ve failed, and I will not accept failure. Not in this.

“Let’s go. It’s time to take some time at home.” I tell the group and mount Sgaeyl without turning around. 

The two hours of flight does nothing to calm the turbulence I’ve caged in my body. Trying to hold every single piece of myself in place proves to be more difficult than I expected. The shards of my heart threatening to break apart at any moment.

‘Will Dhioch tell you anything?’ My mind can only handle one thought. Where did she go and how do I find her?

‘Dhioch is not willing to talk now. I will try my best to get something, but I can’t promise you anything Xaden.’ My name. She never calls me that. At least not unless she’s trying to convince me not to falter. Her tone is also quieter than normal. All these things combined have my chest tightening.

‘Can you at least let Dhioch know that I’m sorry? Sorry for all the ways I’ve failed her rider. That I’ll do anything in my power to get her back.’ 

‘Of course you will.’ The feminine voice that slices through my mind is sharp and causes my head to swivel, looking directly into Dhioch’s eyes. No ounce of sympathy in the words, only command. ‘If you don’t, I will cut your life short. Your apology will be accepted when you find my rider.’

I don’t cower from the brown’s gaze, if anything I revel in the challenge. Fire and determination lick through my veins. I need someone besides just myself in Y/N’s corner, fighting for her and only her.

‘I promise you, Dhioch. I will return her to you. I will have her back in my arms again.’ The spark of defiance reverberating through my chest. I will utilize every single weapon in my arsenal, until I exhaust each and every one.

Soon enough familiar cliffs that line Aretia come into focus, the jagged edges reminding me of what’s left of my heart, and I let myself breathe. The first full breath I’ve had since the sirens rang out at Basgiath. Breathing through the pain and grief, the constant pull of darkness that wants to bring me down. People are depending on me and there’s a woman that I need to find, and I won’t be able to do that if I let myself drown.

As we descend, two figures come into sharp focus as we descend near the large wooden doors of Riorson House. I snort as the worried face of Garrick and the furious face of Brennan Sorrengail come into clear focus. Rolling my shoulders, I let myself prepare for the fight I know that I’m about to have with one of the most infuriating people on the Assembly.

Dropping from Sgaeyl, I stride with purpose straight for the blazing amber eyes that hold nothing but judgment.

“What the fuck were you thinking Riorson?” Ire building, I push past him refusing to answer. 

As soon as I pass the threshold, I let the familiar smell wrap around me the comforting warmth of centuries old stone, worn rugs, and spices that flow from the kitchens. Every single breath begins to calm the storm that has been raging and tearing, whipping and breaking against every wall I had built. Without turning around I let my first words since leaving Resson spill from my mouth.

“Is Violet alright?” It takes every effort to keep my voice even, to not let Brennan know how much my inability to keep her safe is dragging at me.

Brennan walks up to my side and then turns in front of me, his eyes still blazing with fury. “I was able to stop the poison from spreading, but only time will tell if there are any aftereffects.”

“What were you thinking?” Brennan continues as he tries to stand tall and defiant against me.

“What was I thinking?” My patience hanging by a thread. “I was thinking we were sent to die, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. That this entire situation was planned by the cadre at Basgiath and left me no choice, not really.”

“That’s no reason to battle venin underprepared.” Brennan challenges.

“I did what I could. I made decisions that will haunt me for the rest of my life.” My voice continues to get louder as the thread on my self-control snaps. “My friend is dead because of my decision. My brother is dead because of my decision. The girl whose life is tethered to mine was poisoned because of my decision. And the woman I love is gone because of my decision.”

Fists clenched at my sides, the bite of my nails digging into my palms keeping me together. “You sit here behind the Assembly, in the safety of Riorson House and dare challenge me on my decision? I was given an impossible choice. I let every single person decide. Now I – as their commander – get to suffer the consequences of my actions. If you want to be angry, fine, but that leaves me only one thing to say.” 

“Fuck. You.” With that I push past Brennan and stride straight to the one place in this fortress of a house that I can finally breathe.

Prowling up the battered stairs, each one worn smooth from the centuries of footsteps that traipsed them before me, I climb to the highest point. As soon as I reach the familiar opening, I step onto the crenellations of the roof and let the darkness of the night consume me. 

A huff leaves my lips as I remember sitting in a similar spot only three days ago. Sitting on the parapet and trying to escape the emotions of the day. Now on the roof of Riorson House, I try to push past the emotions that loom over me. 

How does someone pull themselves from the depth of grief? I can’t even save myself, how am I going to save everyone else? Is my life and happiness always going to be the cost of my duty?

Questions rolling through my mind, I don’t stop the tide. I let the grief trample my heart, the boulder crushing my chest. Let the regret steal my breath from my lungs. Let the anguish slide down my cheeks in torrents of tears.  Let the desperation flow, my blood feeling like sludge in my veins. Let the resentment fill the fire in my eyes, the burn mixing with the tears.

I allow myself to feel everything, to drown in the tsunami of grief that’s left me empty. Even through the hollow emptiness, I promise myself that I will only rise stronger tomorrow. 

Always tomorrow. 

Always for her.

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