#iron flame fic

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Stay Still | B. Durran |

Bodhi Durran x fwb!fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, MDNI, swearing, p in v, (unprotected sex pls pls be safe), cockwarming, not proofread well, switch!Bodhi, possessive!Bodhi, bratty!reader, poorly written smut, smut with little plot

A/n: hehhe this came out of my ass idk what got into me during my reading bonanza last night 🤭. I just felt truly inspired to try to write a full smut. This is my first official smut I’ve wrote so I would love feedback to improve on it if you have it, but I hope you find this as fun as I did!!

You sighed boredly laying on Bodhi’s bed, stomach pressed against the plush mattress, idly looking over a book about runes you tried to occupy your thoughts with. It had been thirty minutes since you arrived at the Section Leader’s door looking for some company in nothing but your black dressing robe and matching tiny nightgown underneath. Anticipating when he opened his door, he’d haughtily pull you into his quarters and ravish you like a man starved…but no. He merely gave you a once over before letting you in, and sat back at his desk doing his research on wards for Xaden.

You wanted to help as much as he did with resurrecting the wardstones for your friends, but now it had impeded on yours and his arrangement. It’s been two weeks since you last found yourself in the embrace of the man you craved, and you were desperate for the attention you lacked. It had become an unspoken routine you two had secretly engaged in since after Threshing last year. Only using each other other than for just distractions from the trials of surviving the Rider’s Quadrant at night, while during the day you were just squad mates.

You could feel another wave of heat go through your core at the thought of the secret that the two of you shared. You had been fighting the wanton desire since the last time you had found each other. Not that you weren’t satisfied by Bodhi, but you never stopped wanting him it had become glaringly obvious for you. You had even resorted to giving into flirty banter with Ridoc in front of him to get the Flame Section Leader’s acknowledgment, left with not even a sarcastic remark or scolding look on his part. Since Violet returned from Samara, there was a dire urgency to find answers on the wardstone.

But today was exemplarily tougher to push that ache down. After a rather intensive Flame Section sparring session after classes, you had been forced to watch Bodhi spar without drooling. His shirt discarded halfway through the session when he was challenged by Sawyer, the sweat glistening off his chiseled muscles. As if he knew the effect he had on you. The relic that swirled over his bulky biceps and veiny forearms and his dragon relic that loitered on the back of his left sharp shoulder blade down to the side of his refined torso. You had to take an extra cold shower once all the girls left the locker room to calm the burning desire that consumed you which proved to be no help.

You got off the bed, and made your way to him feeling impatient as your core throbbed once more. His back was towards you, displaying his relics that you admired and worshiped in the solace of the night. Your arms wrapping around his chest from behind, your nails lightly scratching his broad bare chest.

“Boh,” you whined, nipping at his earlobe. “Are you done yet?” You asked, a simper to your tone. The arousal in between your legs getting too heavy to bare, and clenching your thighs was no longer an option to fight the want for him. You wanted him now. No—you needed him, and you weren’t going to deprive yourself another minute.

“I don’t have much longer until I finish this section.” He murmured. He screwed his eyes shut trying to focus on the text in front of him, tilting his neck out of instinct to the side letting your lips press needy kisses down to his shoulder.

He had known when he saw you at your door in your skimpiest night clothes what you wanted. Finally making a move in the unintentional stalemate between the both of you. It didn’t fall on to blind eyes the way you went out of your way to be bratty throughout the last two weeks, attempting to get a rise out of him. It almost worked, but never being a jealous man, and clever enough to see right through you. The flirty comments to Ridoc, the way he could feel your alluring eyes burn holes into him during any time he was in the vicinity of you. He almost felt guilty leaving you hanging and to resort to blatant facades of making him jealous, a silent plea to just take you already.

He wanted to do nothing, but to fuck you and remind you who you belonged to.

You looked enticing, and every primal thought that flooded his mind he pushed down to the back of his mind when you appeared in front of his door. The churam he smoked an hour ago doing nothing to stop his chest from hammering, and the blood rushing to his manhood, twitching, at the sight of you. He had to use every ounce of his self discipline to keep his composure in check, letting you in without pouncing, devouring you like he wanted. Xaden would arrive back in Basgiath tomorrow expecting intel, and he hadn’t gotten very far in his research besides dead ends.

Your name got stuck in his throat barely sputtering it out as you sucked on the spot that you knew drove him wild, the conjunction of his neck and shoulder.

You weren’t exclusive with Bodhi, but you had learned everything about him that made him tick. From the littlest things like how his eyes lingered when your flight jacket was slightly undone bearing the slightest bit of cleavage in the low cut tank top you wore underneath—to what made him absolutely feral—the feeling of your lips with your teeth marking his sweet spot that would be barely concealed by the collar of his tight black training shirt the next day. Noting how he would wear the mark proudly like the patches on his jacket. Having a boyish grin when a squad mate would bring it up playing coy. No one knew they were left by you.

“I’ll help you after…” you purred, your hands traveling down his torso to the waistband of his night pants. Fingers nimbly tracing the barely grown out hair that led underneath the cotton. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you.” You pouted before peppering more kisses on his cheeks, feeling satisfied at the sharp intake of air he took at the movement.

You would get your way, there would be no other outcome of you showing up at his door tonight than to be ruined by Bodhi Durran.

“I’m expected to have something to report on tomorrow.” He protested weakly, savoring your mouth against jaw, but still keeping his eyes on the parchment.

His dissolve was close to crumbling, feeling the cold fingertips slip underneath his waistband. All he wanted to do was bend you over his desk, imagining your cheek pressed to the ancient texts laid out on the wooden surface as he railed into you from behind. His cock hardened more at the idea of him inside you.

“Xaden won’t-” you were cut off by the scrape of the wooden chair against the stone floor making you stumble backwards slightly. Bodhi abruptly slid his bottoms down, revealing half hardened manhood, sitting back down in the chair.

“C’mere,” he growled. His tone had a dangerous lilt to it, only making the wetness that had pooled in your panties grow more. His usual warm brown eyes blown out filled with something more than lust.

Your throat ran dry, obeying as you stepped in between his legs. He leaned his forehead against your stomach, inhaling steady breaths as if he could smell your arousal. His rough hands gripping your bare outer thighs before slipping under your nightgown, roughly kneading the soft flesh of your ass. Then he hooked his fingers around the fabric of your undergarments dragging them down your legs.

“You want me to fuck you, but have another man’s name leave your lips?” He gritted out through his, barely speaking above a whisper.

Bodhi knew he was overreacting, but when his cousin’s name came out of your mouth, his primal instincts came bubbling to the surface. A feral fire fueling him, no longer to be tamed. How dare you bring up Xaden, when you came here solely looking for relief from him after acting the way you’ve been.

You were taken aback by the words, leaving you stammering. “I-I’m sorry, Boh..”

This was a new side to him, you’ve never seen before. A nervous pang made your heart skip a beat, though excited at the aggressiveness in his actions.

“You think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing the last two weeks?” He cupped the back of one of your thighs, bringing a leg over his. “Think you were being sly?” He questioned.

You shook your head furiously, forgetting how to speak momentarily.

He pinched the inside of your thigh, only adding to the fire that blazed in your core, a soft gasp leaving your slacked jaw. “Use your words, babygirl.”

“N-no,” the words airily released from your throat, a pink tint to your cheeks.

He smirked, a dry laugh escaping him. “That's what I thought.” He dragged your other leg over his so you were now straddling him, knees perched on the extra wide seat. “Since you want to be a brat, you can sit on my cock until I’m done here.” He held his member with one hand, pumping slowly. “You got it?”

You gulped, watching how it twitched ever slightly, and his shoulders relaxed as he held himself. Nodding eagerly, biting your lip, still looking between the both of you awaiting for him to be inside you.

His free hand wrapped around your hair, pulling it, forcing you to look in his eyes. “What did I say about your words?” He growled. A soft moan left your lips at the gesture. His darkened brown eyes wavered in hunger and pride at the reaction.

“Y-yes, please…” you begged, feeling him rub the tip against your slick folds.

“Good girl, so wet for me,” he groaned.

He slowly inserted himself at your entrance, his hand finding your hip to help lower yourself on to him until he bottomed out inside you. His thick member stretching you out in a blissful sting that he could make you feel. You both sighed at the feeling, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck holding on to him with a near death grip.

You could feel yourself throb as he went back to working. His hands lightly brushing your sides every time he flipped a page or went to jot a note down in his notebook, causing jolts to go down your body. You tried to grind your hips to provide the teeniest bit of relief, Bodhi would only grip your thighs with a bruising force.

“Stay still,” he hissed, his head rolling back as he felt you clench around him again. A small smirk graced your lips, an idea coming to your mind.

One of your hands slid in between you, and found your clit. You moaned, as your fingers circled the sensitive nub.

“Y/n…” he warned, listening to the sweet noises you made in his ear, gripping the quill in his hand tightly. He had thought he had the upper hand in this, but as you touched yourself, his cock warming your insides, he felt the remaining bit of his dissolve crumble. “You’re such a fucking brat.” He held your hips, halting your movements.

“Do something about it then.” You challenged, pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips.

He thrusted up into you, sounds sweet as sin coming from your throats. A wicked smile twisted on to your face, finally. “I fully intend to.” He mumbled, pulling you into another kiss, this time longer and heated. You nipped at his lower lip, earning a hiss from him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth.

Drilling into you at a slow agonizing pace, your tongues fought for dominance, the kiss becoming broken up between strings of noises leaving the both of you. The slow burn pleasure painstakingly from the pace he had set. You tried to lower yourself up and down to go at a faster pace and to your dismay he slowed his movements more, squeezing your hips in caution.

You pulled away panting, “more.” You were a whimpering mess, frustrated to find your release. “Please, Bodhi.”

“Just because you get what you want doesn’t mean you still can’t be punished.” A lazy smirk etched on to his broad jaw. “I have to remind you who you belong to.”

He slowly thrusted up into you again, making you cry out. His face contorted to a look of pleasure as he provided deep slow strokes into you, the sight of him biting his now bruised lip heavenly.

“I’m yours, please.” You begged, nails biting into his shoulders. “Only yours.” You cried when he thrusted particularly harder when you said that.

“Y’ feel so good around me.” He drawled. “Like your pussy was made for me, sweetheart.” His words caused an effect on your whole body from your pussy clenching harder around him to your heart swelling from the praise.

The atmosphere felt entirely different from the usual casual hook ups from before. His forehead resting against yours, occasionally nuzzling your nose with his whispering lines of worship for you taking his time.

“Feels so good,” you panted, looping your fingers in his curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel yourself go dumb as his fingers found your clit, circling it with the same agonizing pace of his cock. You don’t know how much of this you could take. “Please, please, please let me ride you.”

“Do you deserve to ride me?” He taunted in between thrusts.

You nodded vigorously, “please let me make you feel good, Boh. Please.”

He stopped playing with your clit, bringing his fingers to your swollen lips. You sucked your juices off of them, tasting yourself as he leaned back in the chair.

“Mm, since you’ve been begging so nicely.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The moans you released as you fucked yourself onto Bodhi’s cock were angelic. Letting you lower yourself up and down, watching as you got lost, getting drunk on his manhood. His hands had a firm grip on your waist, helping guide you down his length.

“That’s it, ride me like the good slut you are.” He watched your cunt sink onto him, swallowing his length whole.

You could start to feel the familiar coil of release start to come undone, and you knew you weren’t gonna last long. The sounds of your slick and his pants encouraging you to go faster.

Bodhi sensed the way you gripped him, you were going to climax, and met your rhythm bucking his hips upward. “You gonna come f’me?” He asked.

You could only mewl in response, the pleasure rendering you speechless as you rode him harder. Your vision blurred with stars, your body going rigid from the surge of tingling pleasure that electrified your body. The coil finally unraveling in your core as you orgasmed. You let out a throaty moan that was muffled by his lips, kissing passionately.

The tawny skinned man didn’t stop his movements, feeling his own release chasing yours. His aching cock twitched in need of relief. He muttered curses, his pace getting sloppier as he whimpered your name.

“Come for me, Boh.” You whispered softly. His arms wrapped tightly around your midsection, clinging to you like his life depended on it as he kept fucking you.

You felt the twitch, and his release shoot into you, a guttural groan following it. Feeling the mix of your arousals seeping out of you, his cock throbbing.

The heavy breathing from the both of you was the only noise in the room, you two staying in the position. You lightly scratched his scalp letting him regain his composure, his arms loosely holding you still. After a minute, he leaned away looking at you silently.

The intense gaze made you self conscious, clearing your throat as indication you were getting up. His arms only tightened around you once more, but he let his cock sink out of you, feeling your releases cover both of your thighs.

“I should get going,” you stated bluntly.

“Stay the night?” He reached over for the t-shirt that was crumpled on the floor beside his desk. Gingerly wiping you off first, being extremely gentle and careful to not be too abrasive with your sensitive parts, before he cleaned himself off.

You blinked in surprise, he never asked that before—let alone so nonchalant. You two never stayed too long in one another’s quarters after, let alone spend the night with one another. This would encroach the boundaries you mentally placed on this arrangement, ultimately entangling what you had already felt for the man in front of you.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see?” You asked warily.

He offered his usual boyish grin. “That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.”

Personally the pacing was weird for me to write, but I hope it gave you guys what you needed! The idea of fwb possessive Bodhi now has me in a chokehold lmao. Like I said, I am always open to improvements and feedback as this was a bit out of my comfort zone 🫶🏻🩷

[lady-of-tearshed]

The healer said

Bodhi Durran x Reader

This fic is rated 18+. Read at your own discretion. Warnings below.

A/N: SO! First smutty fic, first Bodhi fic... a lot of firsts in this fic! Anyways. Hope it's not too bad and readable. Enjoy! 💕

Summary: Bodhi reminds you of what "the healer said" about what you can and can not do because of your concussion.

Word count: 4,182k

Wanrnings: smut, oral (f receiving), penetration, talk of concussion, talk of broken bones, blood

Professor Emetterio had surely planned to kill you by choosing Felix Braun as Y/N’s sparring partner. Bodhi was sure of that. You stood no chance against the guy. Bodhi knew that you were strong, wise, devastatingly beautiful… You could easily make lots of guys and girls in this room tap out. But cadet Braun… The guy was viscous, fast, tall, and built like a bear. No weapons, no signets, professor Emetterio had insisted. Bodhi was standing on Xaden's side, arms crossed, as he looked over the woman he became ridiculously smitten with. He could still recall the day he’d seen you cross that parapet with the same determination Amari herself, queen of the gods, was described to hold in her eyes. The spar started, moving his attention back on the mat, his eyes were glued on you, Xaden chuckled beside him. Bodhi shot him a glare, his eyes burning with annoyance as he clicked his tongue, turning his attention back to his… dearest friend. 

You managed to throw a kick in Felix Braun's ribs, he stumbled a little, and you jumped on the opening you had to throw a few jabs at him before dodging his next attack. Xaden whistles discreetly when he notices the damage the woman did on Braun, “She is quite sturdy,” Xaden compliments her, making Bodhi grin proudly. “Yeah, she is,” He whispers, his eyes shining with adoration. He tried not to flinch when you failed to dodge a few punches from Braun, he frowned, keeping his focus solely on you. He crossed his arms tightly on his chest and watched the spar carefully, ready to jump in and break every codex law if it got too dangerous for you. He knew you could handle it, but Braun was known to be cruel, and Bodhi didn't like that for one bit, that this girl had to spar with this asshole. 

Bodhi would have loved to be the one to spar with you, he would've let you break his nose and force him to tap out happily, if it meant being pinned down on the mat between those thick delicious thighs of yours. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to distract himself from these thoughts before it became too obvious. He sensed Xaden smirk beside him, “What.” Bodhi snarled, “Nothing… Nothing,” Xaden taunted, his hands rising in front of him as if he was oh so innocent. Bodhi rolled his eyes and looked over Violet standing on the other side of the room, he pointed his chin in her direction, “Don't act like you've never thought anything like that about her, cousin.” He winked at his cousin, and Xaden’s teaseful grin faded. “It's not like that,” He muttered under his breath, and this time, it was Bodhi’s turn to smirk like an asshole. He was way too pleased to have managed to make his cousin feel embarrassed for once. 

But his grin quickly faded when he saw your frail body being propelled in the air, Braun lifting you above his head in one swift movement, before crashing you to the mat in a loud thud. He heard all of the air escape from your lungs with the force of the impact, and if it weren't from Xaden's shadows, he would've jumped from his place when Felix's clenched fist met with your perfect cheek bone. “She didn't tap out yet.” Xaden warned, both of them staring attentively at the fight. Braun kept hitting, and hitting your now unconscious body, Xaden's shadows left Bodhi's ankles the second you passed out, unable to defend yourself in your condition, “That's enough,” Xaden ordered Felix, trying to sound nonchalant. Bodhi quite literally ran to your side. “She didn't tap out-” Felix Braun tries to argue as Bodhi rushed dangerously closer to him, “Get the fuck away from her.” Bodhi yanked Felix off of you, swinging him full force into the nearest wall. 

Bodhi wasted no time to get his attention back on you. He cradled you carefully up into his strong arms. Bodhi looked towards Emetterio who was staring from the other side of the room. “He taps out,” Bodhi snaps at the professor, then he walked quickly out of the room, his blood boiling with rage by how fucking stupid Felix Braun was. Braun could've killed you. He almost did. Bodhi looked down at your limp unconscious body in his arms. Your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, blood stained your clothes, and your cheekbone and nose were twisted in an unnatural shape. But Gods, did he find you beautiful nonetheless.  

All eyes turned on him carrying you when he kicked open the healer’s quadrant door with his leather boot. The healer quadrant was buzzing today, everyone too busy to pay attention to him, or the unconscious stunning angel in his arms. Bodhi was growing frustrated at the thought that no one rushed to take care of you as he did, but he calmed down only slightly when he met Nolon’s eyes. Bodhi held his gaze, and even though the man looked quite busy he sighed and headed toward them. “She needs healing. Now.” Bodhi pressed, reluctant to let go of your frame when Nolon motioned him to lay her down on the medical examination table. “Oh I’m quite sure I know what this cadet needs, wingleader Durran. It’s pretty much my job.” Nolon accentuated their respective titles. You were a cadet. A cadet who wasn’t on his wing. A cadet whom he wasn’t responsible for as a wingleader from a section that wasn’t hers. She was a cadet that Nolon, as a healer, was supposed to take care of. Nolon’s tone made it pretty damn clear that it was best for everyone that Bodhi would just exit this room to let the healers do their jobs.  So, reluctantly, Bodhi left you in the skillful hands of the healers. ‘You’re so pathetically smitten by her.’ Cuir's voice resonated annoyingly from his side of the bond. And Bodhi’s cheek slightly turned a shade redder as he walked through Basgiath’s halls, his thoughts racing towards you. He couldn’t hide the obvious truth from his dragon, so he simply answered, ‘I know I am.’

°●°●°♥︎°●°●°

When you finally slipped out of your restless slumber, you had to pry your eyes open. They were dry, and the bright lights of the room made your head pound. Your stomach churned as you rolled off what you now realized was an examination table, and you emptied what little food you had consumed today before sparring. You recognized Nolon's hand holding up your hair as you heaved, and your nausea ceased as soon as you felt his powers running through you. “Felix Braun had it rougher.” Nolon reassured you, managing to get a weak chuckle out of you. He linked his arm underneath your armpit and helped you up on your wobbling legs. You wiped the remnants of vomit and saliva off your lips, then your fingers gently traced over the curve of your nose. Your nose was now perfectly straight, still sensible, but straight. “Bodhi helped me I suppose?” You roll your eyes. You were glad of your friend's help, but sometimes you just wished you could be strong like him. Nolon shrugged his shoulders, and you knew he was lying when he told you that Bodhi “Barely,” helped you out. 

When you felt your muscles strong enough to support you, you took a few steps away from Nolon, heading towards the door. He raised his eyebrow at you, “Where are you going like that, young lady?” He crossed his arms, his voice a clear warning that you were better not to leave this room like that. You sighed at Nolon's caring nature, and slowly turned to him, “I was… going to get some rest.” You lied, knowing that you had at least one hour left before curfew to practice what mistakes you've made in your spar against Braun. Nolon shoved a paper bag into your hand, and your eyes widened at the tons of different pills there were in there. The blue one was for when you'll wake up in the mornings, the light yellow and the white one while eating, and the two big red ones before going to bed. The suspicious brown syrup was to be taken if you were to be in too much pain, Nolon explained. 

You barely registered anything he'd just said, and you probably wouldn't need to recall all of these pills posology since in your opinion, it was unnecessary. You would probably not even take them. You were a rider. A strong, powerful rider. Rider's don't have time to be sick, or hurt. You thanked Nolon nonetheless, and headed towards the sparring room. It was empty, not to your surprise. It was Friday, and cadets were probably gone celebrating for whatever reason they made up, like still being alive. You tucked an elastic band beneath your boot, the other part of it trapped inside your hand, and you pulled on it to stretch the muscles of your sore shoulders. After thoroughly stretching, you moved to the punching bags to practice your jabs. You tried to ignore the thrombin pain in your head and the tensions on your muscles as you kept giving it your all in your training. Sweat was dripping from your forehead, landing on your cheeks, and you sighed, moving a few steps back from the punching bag to take your breath. 

“You shouldn't be out here.” You heard a familiar voice call out from behind you. That deep, rich voice that sent butterflies flying in the pit of your stomach everytime he was around. “It's not curfew yet.” You stubbornly answer back, wiping your forehead and getting ready for your next set of punches. “You just got mended, you shouldn't overwork yourself like that,” Bodhi's concerned voice was now closer to your right ear, and you felt his hand hesitating to rest on your shoulder. Without warning, you spun around and placed your hands on his chest, sending his cheeks ablaze at your sudden closeness. “And you're not my wingleader, you shouldn't be ordering me around like that,” You say, your voice dangerously low. You can't help yourself but to stare at those scrumptious lips of his, then back into the depth of his soft brown eyes, his pupils were wide. “Then, your healer said you shouldn’t overwork yourself like… that…” 

Bodhi gulped as you walked closer to him, his fingers sneaked almost shakily on the curve of your hips. He roamed his fingers over the fabric of your shirt, then laid his palm flat on your hip, caressing it gently as if he risked breaking you. You get yourself even closer to him, your bodies tightly pressed on eachother, and you internally wondered where this sudden boldness of yours was coming from. It wasn’t a secret that you and Bodhi were eyeing constantly eye-fucking eachother in class, at trainings, at meetings with the other marked ones around… You had exchanged a few fleeting touches with him before too. Your fingers had sometimes sneaked over his to rub them softly when the two of you were sitting beside each other, but never have you been pressed against Bodhi Durran's delicious body before. You must’ve hit your head pretty fucking hard to dare try making a move on Bodhi, your childhood friend, a second year, a wingleader. 

“Did the healer forbid anything else?” You whisper, moving your lips dangerously close to his neck. His scent… His scent was driving you crazy. His aroma of leather and embers made your nostrils flare in delight, and it lit up your whole body in flames. He shivers as your nose brushes over the skin of his neck, and you feel his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. You raised on your tippy toes, your lips finally making contact with the skin of his jaw, and you almost moaned in delight at how heavenly it felt to place kisses over his jawline. It felt natural, familiar, and Bodhi was fighting every urge he had, probably because he still doubted that this goddess wanted a man like him, to throw his head back and buck against her. “Mh?” You pressed, still waiting for his answer. 

Your voice vibrated on Bodhi’s neck, sending shivers up his spine, and he instantly felt himself harden only from the sound of your voice. Gosh he was pathetically smitten with this woman. He gulps, and you feel his Adam apple bobbing, making you want to dig your teeth into it. “I do not recall if he forbade any other activities…” He slid his hand from her hips to her lower back, venturing lower, and lower, until he cupped both of your buttcheeks in his palms. His voice rumbled when he felt how your ass moved when his fingers massaged it while you kept kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. “Then I suppose that if I feel like climbing you like a tree, and that you allow me to, I can?” You purred, and Bodhi groaned, he bucked against the hand you sneaked between the two of you, increasing the pressure of your palm placed on the bulge of his pants. “Shit- Y/N,” He warned you, trapping your chin between his thumb and index, forcing your head back to look up at him, “You have no idea what you’re implying right now, what you’re getting yourself into…” 

You plunged your eyes into his, the pounding of your head replaced by the loud thuds of your heart. You pressed your thighs together, biting your lips at the friction, and Bodhi stared down. He sucked in a breath, and before he could chicken out and walk away to lead you to your room to rest like the gentleman you know he is, you told him, “Trust me, I do. Can we stop eye-fucking eachother and just get at it?” His eyes squeezed and you felt him shudder, as if he was fighting some inner demons, overthinking wether it was right, or terribly wrong to fuck you in this state. He opened his eyes, fire dancing in the depths of his eyes.“Fuck yes we can.” His voice was low and sounded primal. He attacked your lips like a starved beast, and it felt as if your souls had merged from this kiss. You could feel him, smell him, taste him everywhere. Feeling him was dizzying, arousing, tantalizing. 

You barely even registered how you stumbled into Bodhi’s bedroom, nor if you had been seen by people on your way there. Your lips had not left Bodhi’s once since he lifted you up into his arms and dragged you here. The last thing you remembered was proposing him to just fuck in the public showers, but Bodhi just didn’t feel like having anyone catching the two of you like this. To be honest, Bodhi just didn’t want anyone to see you, his beautiful girl, naked. Were you his though? He wasn’t sure. And he clearly did not feel like stopping what they were doing, or about to do, right now just to put a name on what they were. He’d fuck you, mark you, and treat you like his tonight. He’d treat you right, love you right, and fuck you right too while he’s at it. 

You were breathing loudly, your lips crashing against his. Bodhi’s neck was already coated with your saliva as you occasionally moved your lips away from his to nip at the column of his neck. Clothes were flying over the room, landing on the floor haphazardly, a weird contrast to Bodhi's immaculately neat bedroom. He lets out a filthy hum when you tug his underwear off, leaving the both of you now completely naked. You slid away from him slightly, his hands leaving your behind as you sank down on your knees. You stick out your tongue, his heavy head sliding on your tongue. You barely have the time to taste the slightly salty pearl of precum shining on the tip of his cock before Bodhi snapped out of his daze, lifting you by the armpits and laying you down on the bed. You raise an eyebrow at him, worried you might’ve done something that upset him, but he kissed your worries away. His lips met your cheek, and he gently bit it. “Tonight, I’m taking care of my sweet girl.” He growls in your ear, kissing the spot right beneath your earlobe lovingly before tracing his tongue down your neck, all the way to the swell of your breast. 

You combed your fingers through his dark curls with your right hand, your left hand already intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently as he placed kisses all over your breasts, nipping at the skin to leave small love bites on them. “And… Will I be the one to take care of you tomorrow?” You bit your lips, wondering if maybe you had been too bold to presume there would be other times. But he snickered, moving down to kiss your stomach. He looked at you through his thick eyelashes, and you could see a feline grin plastered on his face as he got further down your body. “Patience, lovely, we have plenty of time to think about what we’ll do tomorrow…” Before you could think of a smart thing to answer back to his teasing tone, his tongue lapped a long stripe of your arousal. Your head tilted back as you softly moaned, and you pulled on his hair, instinctively bringing his mouth closer to where you needed it most. 

His nose pressed against your throbbing clit while his tongue slowly swiped through your soaked folds. He squeezed your hand softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.  “Look at me, your eyes are too pretty to be shut…” His voice rumbles in his throat, and you pear at him through half lidded eyes. Gods… he was beautiful. He had painted  your neck, your stomach, your breasts, with dark red marks. It was like a gentle reminder for tomorrow, and the days to come, of all the places his lips had been on you. He pushed your thigh back against your stomach with his free hand, sticking his tongue further into your folds, teasingly pushing in your hole. You bit your lip, and you would’ve shut your eyes closed from the overwhelming pleasure Bodhi was giving you, if it weren’t from the clear warning in his eyes. You bucked your hips against his face, making his tongue disappear deeper into you. Bodhi lustfully sighed, his breath caressing your cluster of nerves.  

You squirm underneath him as a pleasurable tingle rushes into your lower abdomen. “Bodhi,” You moaned his name, and he grunted, rubbing his shaft against the mattress at the sound of his name coming out from those beautiful lips of yours. That only could’ve been his undoing if he didn’t fight the urge to calm himself down to prolong the pleasure. “What?” He had the audacity to answer, slightly lifting his face from between your thighs. His chin was glistening with a mix of your essence and his own saliva. You tugged his hair toward you, and he raised on his elbows, his predatory eyes fixed on yours as he crawled up to your face. He slid his needy lips on yours, tilting tugging your head back to sneak his tongue into your mouth. You tasted yourself on him, a thing you would’ve never considered hot until now. It made your face heat from how naughty it felt to taste your arousal on his tongue. Her inner walls were clenching around nothing, craving for something the emptiness Bodhi’s skillful tongue had left down there. 

“I need you,” You whispered against his lips, and his cock twitched between your pressed bodies. “Inside,’ You clarified, making him chuckle slightly as he positioned himself, sliding his dick against your pussylips to lube himself with your cum. “Inside, mh? What do you need inside,” Fucking prick. “Your cock-ah…” You pressed your forehead against his as he kept holding onto your hand, his other one gently massaging your inner thigh as he sheathed into you slowly, watching your every reaction. “Is this okay?” He frowns slightly, his forehead moving away from yours to kiss your nose gently. His heavy breathing fanned over your cheeks, tickling them slightly. You smiled and squeezed his hand in reassurance, moving your free hand to cup his chin. “Yes,” You affirm confidently, rolling your hips against him. 

He groaned, plunging his cock in your entrance in one thrust of his hips. His jaw twitched under your fingers, and you moved it to his shoulder. “Don't hold back, I can take it,” He tilts his head back at your words and growls, as if you had unleashed the beast in him. He rutted into you, his head hitting you deep, and fast. The sound of your raspy breathing and the slapping of his balls against your wetness echoed in the room, and you prayed to the gods that he had warded his room, because if he didn't, the whole quadrant would probably hear you chanting his name like a prayer. There was no way you could hold it back. Not when he was fucking you as if it was the last time. 

Your thigh trembled, your eyes rolled back, and Bodhi held your chin between his fingers so he could admire your features contorting as you came. “That's it… Good girl…” He grunted, his pace slowing nust for a moment as he led you through your orgasm. You breath out a needy whimper when Bodhi's cock slipped out of you, and he flipped you onto your stomach. You could feel the drenched sheets pressing against your pelvis in this position. He slid a pillow underneath your hips, pressing his hardness against your throbbing cunt, and bent down to reach your ear. “Think you can take a bit more for me?” You nodded, wiggling your hips to rub against him.

He hummed, biting onto your shoulder as he entered you once again, this time, slowly. You felt his abs twitch against your back with every thrust, his hand had left yours, now caressing your body with both hands. He held your hip gently, and his other hand worked on your perked niple, gently rolling it between his thumb and index. You were seeing stars, and you felt like you were floating on a cloud. Sex had never felt like this before, and you'd give your soul to Malek if this was the last time you'd have the chance to experience that. His thrust started to feel sloppier, and you could hear his breathing getting raspy. “Fuck,” He swore, his fingers digging tightly into your the flesh of your hip. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers applied a light pressure to your overstimulated clit and you screamed in pleasure, arching your ass up. Bodhi couldn't hold it back anymore, he grunted, pulling out in one swift movement and his sperm spurted on your back. 

He almost came again at the sight of your ass and your back covered with his semen and love bites. Gods you were beautiful, sprawled like this on his bed, panting, sweating, disheveled… He would keep you in his bed, dress you in his clothes, and cover you with his marks everyday if you'd allow him to. He sat on his knees, his fingers running through your hair in a failed attempt to untangle them. He gave your ass a small smack before reaching his arm towards the tissue box on the nightstand to clean you up. He wiped your back clean, then massaged your muscles with his large hands. He bent over to kiss your cheek, and his heart melted when you turned on your back to pull him on top, kissing his lips as lovers would. 

You stroked his hair when he pulled his lips away from you, still snuggled on you, his elbow holding his weight a little so he doesn't crush you. “I need to use the toilet.” You smiled tiredly, and you rolled out of bed, wincing at how sore your legs were. You extended your arm towards Bodhi’s shirt on the floor and slipped it on. “Will you…” You heard him speak up hesitantly. You pear at him over your shoulder, je was sprawled on the bed, propped onto his arm, the sheets messily covering all the way up to his waist. “Yeah?” You insisted to him to continue his request, “Will you… Come back to bed, after?” You smiled, leaning in the doorframe of his bathroom. “Yeah. Is that okay?” You winked at him, and his heart skipped a beat. “Excellent…” He exhaled, a dumb grin stuck on his face as he plopped down onto the bed, stretching his legs as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Cuir was right. He was pathetically smitten by this woman. And he was fucking proud of it. 

[sapchat]

still on a "wanting to fuck Bodhi train"

Could contain spoilers idk, but i mainly talk dragon names.

Let's deep dive "and by deep dive i mean it's only like 5 feet cuz i have a tummy ache so this is the only info I have.

Bodhi has a Green dragon, we know this from when Violet borderline burns out, he says Cuir (his dragon) says she needs food and Eya/eva/someone(?) says "A green would know"

Now we only know two dragons true names, and that's Tairn and Andarna, we also know Rebecca Yarros is a fan of Gaelic words/names (even if she ain't the best at pronouncing them). Tairn's true name meaning thunder (cuz just tairn's is nail), and Andarna's is Second honour.

Now you can deep dive into all the dragons names like Sgaeyl means shadow (which is should actually be Sgàile if i do google translate right (Yes Mr. Silva I still use google translate I passed Spanish didn't I?))

But we also know their names don't necessarily go with their powers (As these dragons have had their names for years it's just wild that coincidently Xaden wields shadows and Violet has lightning and that's what their names mean) As Ridoc's signet is ice but his dragons name (not the full name) means Light (Also Aotrom you do you, you little brown babe love you).

But we also know this: Liam wields ice before he dies. Deigh means Ice. Little sus Becky, little sus.... >>

Now I don't speak Gaelic, never have and honestly I probably will never be able to as I got a speech impediment and can't say any type of accent like word. Like to the point my Spanish teacher told me not to take Spanish 2 as I couldn't actually speak it. So I found a fun little website where I just googled "Gaelic word's starting with Cuir" and after looking at the long ass list

I think I can confidently say Bodhi's dragons full name is Cuirairfalbh meaning "put away" and I feel that's reaaalllllyyyy fitting for someone who's rider's signet is countering signets. He literally 'puts them away'.

I also find it would be fitting for this to be his name as Greens are the smartest dragons, and are stated perfect for sieges, so wouldn't being named "put away" be super fitting for a green dragon who was basically made to storm castles and shit?

Any way thanks for coming to my BodhiTalk

[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

[ladybirdswritings]

LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic!! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

“Wake her up.”

Water. Cold as ice, constricting your rigid bones like snakes coiling tighter with every stolen shiver.

A gasp tore from your throat, water spewing from your lungs as your body heaved against the jagged floor. Your eyes fluttered open, disjointed memories playing like a fragmented reel in your mind.

“Her power exceeds that of every living vernin on this planet!”

“Promise me you’ll fix this, darling.”

Promise me. Promise me. Promise me.

You blinked hard, but the image didn’t fade.

You were tied.

The rough ropes bit into your bony wrists, leaving searing, ring-like burns. Every labored movement set your nerves aflame. Your gaze darted upward, breath hitching as the world slowly came into focus.

A girl stood above you, silver-dipped hair framing a weary, glaring face. Beside her, a man with raven-black hair and a severe jaw hovered like a dark sentinel, his pale skin nearly glowing in the dim light.

And then there was him.

A scar slashed across one onyx eye, his expression cold and unreadable. Caramel skin adorned with swirling ink that climbed every visible inch of him. His presence suffocated the room, shadows pooling at his feet as if he commanded them.

You inhaled sharply.

“Do you think she speaks English?” the girl asked, her voice wary.

Your wide eyes locked onto her as you pulled against your restraints, panic rising. The three of them stepped back in weary unison.

“Be calm.” His voice—low, smooth, commanding—cooed like a bird singing a song only you could dance to. It scraped against the fragile walls of your resolve, but you clung to the shreds of your sanity.

Your eyes darted around, desperate to piece together this fractured reality. You tried to speak, tried to form an identity, but your name—your very sense of self—slipped through your fingers like quicksand.

“You have me tied,” you rasped, the words tasting foreign in your mouth.

Another synchronized step back.

“Xaden…” the silver-haired girl’s voice was cautious, her eyes glassy with an emotion you couldn’t yet name. But it was fervent, pulsing. You could sense it.

Lust. Love. Betrayal.

The man— Xaden’s jaw ticked, his gaze piercing as it lingered on you.

“We’ve already discussed this,” he said, his voice devoid of hostility but heavy with finality. “Take her, Garrick. I’ll handle the girl.”

She only bristled at his words, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “You lost the right to give me orders when you—”

“I’m well aware, Violence.” His voice cracked with strain, the facade of calm splintering for just a moment.

The girl—Violence—swayed slightly, but her resistance faltered. With a deep, resigned exhale, Garrick gently guided her out of the room.

And then it was just you.

As the door slammed shut, Xaden’s features transformed. The fleeting agony that had marred his face dissolved into a cold mask, his expression as unreadable as the void of shadows around him.

His gaze roamed over you, scrutinizing every inch with an intensity that made your skin crawl. When he was satisfied, he dropped to one knee before you, the motion deliberate and predatory.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low, as if any louder would break you. As if you were a precious thing, needing to be preserved. And though he asked you for it, you had a fleeting sense that he already knew.

He was testing you.

Your trembling hands tugged at the ropes, panic stabbing through your mind. A flash of white burned behind your eyes—a memory.

A woman with electric blonde hair and a gaze colder than ice stared down at you. You were tied, gagged, and helpless.

“Shall I strike her again, General Sorrengail?”

The memory vanished as pain lanced through your wrists, the ropes burning like scorched iron. Your teary gaze met his, desperation clawing at your chest.

“Please untie me,” you begged, voice raw and jagged.

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t so much as twitch. “I can’t do that.”

Your breath quickened, chest heaving as your head fell back against the pole that anchored you. The room blurred, warmth suddenly flooding your cheeks.

When your eyes snapped open, he was closer. His thumb brushed away the tears streaking your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. Shadows coiled tighter around you, suffocating yet oddly soothing.

“What’s your name?” he repeated, his thumb grazing your trembling lips as if trying to still them.

“I… I don’t remember,” you whispered.

His brows knit together, his silence heavier than words. For a moment, his gaze softened, as if he saw something tethered within you he’d searched to find for a millenia.

You’re coddling her.

A voice, unfamiliar and swelled with a power you found yourself connected to— it sounded throughout the confines of your mind. And then another voice. His voice.

Trust me, Sgaeyl.

And yet his lips did not move, set in a hard line. Perhaps you had a name, and the world had simply forgotten. Who gave any attention to the sick and mad? To those who had phantom voices roaming within the confines of their skull? Suddenly, like a curtain falling, his expression hardened again. He rose to his full, imposing height, towering over you like a specter.

“Get up,” he commanded, voice sharp enough to slice you in two.

“I’m tied,” you protested, voice trembling.

His eyes narrowed. “Get up and face me, and I’ll free you from all your binds.”

Hope fluttered in your chest, fragile and fleeting. You braced yourself, using the pole for support, and pushed. Your legs buckled instantly, sending you crashing back down.

Again.

And again.

By the eighth attempt, your knees were raw, your wrists throbbing, and your patience gone.

“You’re trying to humiliate me,” you hissed, glaring up at him.

“It seems to be working,” he said with a ghost of a smirk that made your blood boil.

Something stirred deep within you, a dormant fire roaring to life. His words, his condescension—they fed it like kindling to a flame.

“Aiming to embarrass ourselves today, are we?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

The fire ignited.

“Let me go.”

Your voice was guttural, commanding, a force that reverberated through the room like a shockwave.

And time stopped. Only for a moment, but even so. Still, not a life in sight daring to breathe. Sudden, suffocating, swelling.

Then over.

Xaden dropped to one knee, his hands moving to untie your restraints as if compelled by an unseen force. His breath hitched as the ropes fell away, but the closeness of him—the warmth of his hands against your bloodied wrists—froze you in place.

He leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours, his breath mingling with your own in a dangerous dance.

“Look at that… we’ve finally found you, little witch…” he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

And somehow, you knew him then. Even free from all memory, you knew well that whoever he was— he was just beginning to unravel you.

[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.

[ervotica]

liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3

a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3

Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.

You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.

“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”

He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”

Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.

“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”

Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.

You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.

Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.

"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.

"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"

"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.

"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."

There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.

"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.

"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.

"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."

He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.

"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."

"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."

"I do worry about you."

You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.

"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.

"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.

"You promise to go to sleep?"

He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.

Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.

"I'm tired," you say, muffled.

"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.

And he's going to make them pay for this.

[mendessi]

things i say when you sleep

series masterlist

bodhi durran x fem!oc

summary: Ania crosses the Parapet into the Riders Quadrant, and finally meets with the marked children of those who got her parents and brother killed. Bodhi Durran is quick to remind her that she's marked too.

current wordcount: 45.5k

tags: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of death, she falls first he falls harder, majority canon compliant, some canon deviance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending, additional tags to be added

ao3

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten 🌶

chapter eleven- 3/1

chapter twelve - 3/3

ania or Áine (ahn-ya)- radiance or brightness

[theelizamanelli]

Look at the Size of his Ego

Pairing: Aaric Graycastle x Female OC one shot Word count: 3.5k Rating: 18+, mdni Tags: golden retriever x black cat, fourth wing universe, enemies to lovers, fighting, blood and violence, dominant x submissive, explicit smut Summary: Aaric Graycastle is surprised to find that Evelina Stormbridge has discerned his true identity. After a night of guard duty Aaric finds that Evelina doesn't dislike him as much as she carries on. ao3 link

——————————————————————————————————

“As if I don’t know who you are, Aaric,” Evelina bit out, taking a step towards him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he avoided her gaze, staring past her towards the rush of students in the hall. His blatant disregard for her intelligence seemingly placing Evelina on edge. 

“I am a citizen of Navarre, do you believe I am so simple that I do not know what our Prince looks like?” she pierced him with an icy glare. 

He took no note of the warning in her tone, acting as if she were merely an inconvenience. “You have me conf-” seething, she stepped behind the pillar - shoving him against the stone. 

Aaric’s green eyes widened in surprise, briefly flashing with a hint of admiration. A small smirk threatening the edge of his lip as he leaned his head against the chill of the wall. 

“I would be careful of the words that come out of that pretty mouth next. I am unsure you are prepared for the consequences,” her face was angled upwards as she stared him down.

“I wouldn’t dare underestimate you, Evelina,” Aaric’s gaze dragged along the features of her face, hesitating on her lips, before returning to her eyes.

She faltered momentarily, her eyebrows creasing before she shoved his shoulder, “Ensure that you heed that advice for the remainder of your time at Basgiath. However short it may be, Your Grace.” 

Evelina adjusted the strap on her shoulder before starting towards Battle Brief, a slight warmth spreading along the tips of her cheeks. 

——————————————————————————————————

Aaric found himself unsure how a momentary slip up at the end of Professor Kaori’s class had ended with his back against the wall and the murderous glare of a pretty girl threatening to swallow him whole. 

He felt positive that despite valiant effort he would be seeing her lips the next time he showered. 

Evelina Stormbridge was a formidable opponent, he had taken notice of her tactics on the mat - they were admirable at best and agonizingly hot at worst. As a fellow first year it was vital to evaluate all of his competition, not just the ones with beautiful form.

She had been sorted into Fourth Wing Claw Section, bonding to a green daggertail which revealed to Aaric that she was notably intelligent but had an unpredictable temper. All five foot five of her had stood in front of him with the aura of a six foot seven man that had a hundred pounds on him.

He shook his head slightly at the thought, a smile playing on his lips at the reminder of her glare. 

“Uh, dude, we are plotting here. Care to join?” Ridoc leaned into his vision, his hand splayed in front of Aaric’s eyes. He swatted it out of his face before turning towards Violet. 

“I wouldn’t say we are plotting, more preparing for the inevitable crumble of our social structure as we know it,” she cocked her head slightly, pursing her lips.

“You should be a motivational speaker,” retorted Ridoc with a chuckle. 

“What an insightful message from our fearless leader,” Rhiannon shook her head. 

“I’m not the leader here - you are,” Violet pointed at Rhiannon before continuing. “Listen, all I am saying is that it’s a matter of time before they all turn on the Fliers. It’s our duty to keep them safe. We are going to divide all Fourth Wing out for guard duty.”

Aaric’s gaze darted to the front row where Evelina sat, writing in a notebook as Professor Devera entered the classroom. Her posture quickly straightened, her attention snapping to the board.

“Did you hear me, Aaric?” Violet inquired, her body slightly leaning forward over the desk.

“Heard,” he turned his attention to the front as Battle Brief began. 

——————————————————————————————————

The sparring mat spread in front of Evelina as she stretched, unsure of who she would be matched up with for the day. The recent introduction of the Fliers had been a welcome change, she had found herself in desperate need of a worthy opponent. 

Her only hope being that they all didn’t disappoint her.

Sitting down with her section, Evelina leaned towards Havana who whispered as she saw Catriona Cordella glaring in Violet Sorrengail’s direction. 

“If looks could kill,” she giggled before redirecting her attention to Emetterio who slowly announced the challenges for the day.

A laugh bubbled up from the Flame Section, Ridoc Gamlyn slapping Aaric Graycastle on the back as he continued his commentary. Aaric’s posture stood impossibly straight, his face refusing to feign interest in what Ridoc had to say. His gaze caught momentarily on Evelina who held his stare - her mouth tight as he threw a smile in her direction.

She huffed at his attempt at camaraderie, averting her eyes back towards Havana. The thought of the hunger in his irises as they lingered on her lips crossing her mind - the back of her neck warming.

“Aaric Graycastle and Evelina Stormbridge,” Professor Devera’s voice broke Evelina’s concentration as she gestured towards the mat.

She stood slowly before walking towards the edge of the sparring ring, careful to analyze Aaric’s movements in case they gave her insight to a weak point. She noted that his stride implied he was nimble for his size. Though she would never admit this out loud, she had found herself on a few occasions admiring his work on the mat. 

Aaric Graycastle was a formidable opponent, a smile threatened to spread across her face.

“Are you prepared for the consequences, Your Grace?” Evelina straightened before placing herself in a defensive stance. From what she remembered of Aaric he often played defense - she would attempt to draw him from his comfort zone.

“Oh, Evelina, I’ve been dreaming of it,” he smirked before mimicking her stance. 

——————————————————————————————————

What Aaric had not counted on was his opponent’s perfume driving him to distraction. He circled Evelina a few times, from what he had catalogued she had an offensive fighting style. He was attempting to calculate the perfect time to strike before she was able.  

“Are you waiting for permission to attack, Graycastle?” she asked, her eyebrows raising. 

Analyzing her side step, Aaric was unsure if she was attempting to manipulate his emotions - goading him into exposing himself by lunging too early. 

“I don’t seek permission to do anything, Evelina. I would think my presence here would make that clear enough for you.” He watched as the corner of her mouth ticked, her eyes darkening. 

She lunged in his direction to which he evaded quickly, attempting to strike her side. She rolled out of the way, breathing hard as she stood.

“That was…a choice,” he cocked his head to the side, darting forward in an attempt to catch her off balance. Dodging towards the ground she threw her legs out to trip him. Aaric jumped before kicking at her chest.

Evelina strategically fell backwards, rolling towards the edge of the mat. 

“I assumed any spoiled rich kid had to be told what to do. My apologies, Your Grace,” She fell back into pace with him, Aaric frowned before throwing a punch which Evelina dodged - grabbing onto his outstretched arm. Using his momentum she flipped him upside down - he landed hard on the ground.

Evelina stood over him, placing her hands on her knees as she bent down, “I see now that your superior upbringing only contributed to the weight of that ego - I am surprised you were able to stay upright for that long,” 

She smiled before retreating from the mat, wiping her hands on her pants. Aaric’s eyes lingered on her frame as she sat back down next to a dark haired girl from the Claw section. 

Breathing heavily, Aaric could feel a familiar tugging in his lower stomach.

——————————————————————————————————

The group of Fourth Wing members that had volunteered for Flier guard duty stood in the assembly hall, Rhiannon divided them into groups of two - assigning each to specific areas. 

“Aaric, you’re with Evelina ,” Rhiannon pointed to the two before turning towards the next. 

“Damn, now if she kicks your ass I won’t be able to watch,” Ridoc whined, shoving Aaric’s back.

Evelina leaned against the wall, her face void of emotion as she pushed from the stone and walked in his direction.

“Good luck, you’re going to need it,” Ridoc whispered before walking back towards Rhiannon. 

Aaric took a step towards her, gesturing in the direction of their assignment. She huffed, rolling her eyes before striding down the hall.

“I didn’t take you for a Poromiel apologist,” he stepped carefully in line behind her as they meandered through the area on guard. 

“I am not a blind follower,” Evelina retorted, her head on a swivel as they entered the academic wing.

“Neither am I,” Aaric continued down the hall, he noted that Evelina faltered slightly at his comment before bristling - returning to her previous rough demeanor.

A rough clatter to the ground caught their attention as they looked towards a classroom, Evelina threw the door open to find a first year tangled with a second year. Aaric bit back a laugh as pink spread through her cheeks, she began to speak but held her breath instead.

He pointed at the two who had startled at their entrance, “You two, back to your dorms - orders from the higher ups!” They quickly straightened their clothes before rushing out the other door. 

She stood in front of him, the burn present on the back of her neck. He leaned down - whispering in her ear, “Everything okay, Evelina?”

Goosebumps erupted along her exposed shoulder - the black tank top a stark contrast to the color threatening to consume the remainder of her body.

She swallowed hard, quick to move forward through the classroom. There was a glint of light streaking from underneath the desk, Evelina leaned down to grasp the object.

“She left he-” she paused as the realization of what she was holding dawned on her.

A pair of pink panties with silver metal hearts in the side gleamed in the moonlight.

“Oh, Evelina,” he murmured as she threw them back to the ground.

“I didn’t realize what they were!” she yelled defensively, turning in his direction.

“Of course you didn’t,” he responded with a sarcastic nod as he took a step in her direction, she shot him a pleading look.

“Please, as if I would even kn-” she paused, shaking her head. “I just mean, I wouldn’t want to pick up someone else-”

Aaric chuckled, taking another step towards her. Evelina retreated slightly, the back of her knees hitting the desk, “I am not explaining myself to the likes of you.”

He momentarily admired the moonlight streaming over her features, the pink of her nose as it scrunched in frustration. He dragged his gaze down to her lips, he could almost taste them - how soft they would feel against his own. 

Evelina squirmed slightly under his gaze, “Listen here, Graycastle. Let’s get one thing straight. I could easily take you down right here, right now if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Aaric asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

She hesitated, noting how his sandy brown locks fell forward onto his forehead as he leaned towards her. 

“You know, Evelina. There are other things that this pretty mouth can do,” his breath was hot on her face as he neared her lips.

She swallowed hard, “We have a job to do, Your Grace.” Her eyes betrayed her - darting down towards his lips.

“Oh, please, Evelina. You haven’t thought about the job once in the last five minutes and we both know it,” she had fully backed against the desk, sitting slightly on the wood as Aaric occupied the space between her legs - staring down at her. 

He reached his hand out, one finger tipping her chin upwards, “Admit it. You want to kiss me as bad as I want to kiss you.”

Evelina licked her lips quickly, his green eyes boring into hers, “I abstain from the question,” her teeth clenched.

Aaric chuckled softly, “Why is that?”

She sighed before responding, “As a rule, I do not lie,” the realization flashed across Aaric’s eyes before his gaze darkened.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered before he pressed his lips hungrily against hers. 

——————————————————————————————————

Evelina gasped as he collided with her, his kiss desperately consuming her. Her eyes fluttered closed, she instinctively leaned her head back as his tongue swiped against the inside of her lower lip. 

A moan slipped from her throat, she flinched as he pulled away from her.

“I know you can do better than that, Evelina. Now lay back,” Aaric licked his lips, straightening. 

The haze of lust crowded her mind as she slowly pushed herself back onto the desk, leaning back on her hands as she watched him drink in her body.

His tall form bathed in the soft light of the sky, she could not help but admire how attractive he looked standing over her.

Though she noted that this was the only time she would ever let a man above her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaric whispered, his hand sliding along the outside of her thigh. 

“Even when I am kicking your ass on the mat?” Evelina breathed out a small laugh as he slid his hands towards her hips, his finger tracing the bare skin exposed by her tank top riding up.

“Especially when you’re kicking my ass on the mat,” he murmured, a shiver sliding through her as his knuckle pulled the waistline down slightly.

Her breath hitched, “Lift your hips, Evelina,” he instructed - his eyes hazy with desire. 

Bracing her hands on the woods, she pulled her hips into the air as Aaric slid the fabric down her legs before throwing them onto the ground. He gazed down at her hungrily, sliding his hand along her bare thighs before placing his palms underneath her knees - pushing them back.

Evelina’s hands slid along the wood as he maneuvered her - her legs bent as she was splayed in front of him. 

“Exactly what I thought…beautiful,” his eyes dragged along her exposed middle - warmth spreading along her face as he licked his lips. 

He slid his hands along her inner thighs before tracing a finger down her heat, she tensed at his touch. 

“I thought you disliked me, Evelina?” he teased, “This suggests otherwise.”

“I don’t dislike you, Graycastle,” she replied softly, “Honestly, I respect you for turning against your own blood in order to stand up for what is right.”

Evelina paused, surprised at her honesty, “Tell anyone I said that and I really will kill you.”

Aaric’s features softened at her confession, his eyes analyzing her face before sighing. 

“Heard,” he slowly bent down to his knees, Evelina leaned forward to watch his descent. At his height he was eye level with where she regrettably wanted him most.

“Are you going to analyze my moves here, too?” he asked with a quirk of his brow. Evelina straightened her shoulders before opening her mouth to protest.

His tongue swirled around her clit in an agonizing circle, her words caught in her throat as her head slowly lulled backwards. 

Oh, fuck.

Aaric pressed his palms into the back of her thighs, forcing her legs further backwards. The angle change elicited a strangled moan from Evelina’s lips, she quickly pressed her hand to her mouth.

Pausing, he pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed softly before straightening.

“Now, Evelina, take that hand off your mouth. I want to hear you,” his voice was deeper, husky with lust. 

She paused briefly, her eyes widening as he increased the pace - staring at her intently as she slowly dragged her hand from her lips. 

“Good girl,” he breathed before pressing his lips to the lower part of her stomach - sliding one finger inside of her.

Evelina jolted, arching her back with a soft moan. She could hear his low chuckle as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, a second finger slipping into her growing wetness. 

Aaric maintained a rhythm as he kissed the opposite thigh - feeling the reverberation of her trembling. 

He slowly licked her clit eliciting a sharp hiss before sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh, Gods,” Evelina moaned, gripping the edge of the desk.

“Your Grace,” he corrected before repeating the motion with his tongue. 

She bucked her hips against his mouth as his fingers continued in an agonizing rhythm that had her teetering on the edge. The familiar build simmered in her core as she writhed against his tongue. 

Aaric increased the pace of his fingers as he sucked her clit inwards, Evelina tumbled over the edge - grasping onto his hair as she arched backwards, “O-oh, fuck, Aaric.”

Breathing heavily, she slumped against the desk as he straightened - looming over her. He licked his lips before reaching his fingers in her direction, “Taste yourself,” he demanded.

Evelina sucked a breath in before opening her mouth slightly, he slid inside - she wrapped her lips on the knuckle before her tongue swirled around her wetness. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured before sliding one hand to trace her neck and the other over her breast. He pulled the tank top down, exposing her nipple to the cool air. Aaric leaned down and sucked it into his mouth.

Evelina wrapped a hand around the back of his neck instinctively, arching into his touch as she moaned. He pressed a soft kiss to her neck before mimicking his previous action with her other breast. 

He groaned as she lifted her hips to drag herself along his pants, “Aren’t you impatient?” 

Aaric dragged a finger across her sensitive clit, she tensed against him with a hiss. 

“What a needy little thing,” he whispered before pressing his lips against hers, Evelina wrapped her legs around his waist before sliding her free hand into his hair. She was desperate for contact, sliding her tongue into his mouth as he pressed his hard length against her bare skin. 

She pulled away, her face flushed as she bit out, “Listen, Graycastle, if you don’t fuck me right now I am going to take matters into my own hands,”

Aaric smirked, “Next time, I am taking you up on that offer, Evelina.” he unbuckled the belt allowing his pants to fall to his ankles. 

Evelina swallowed hard as his length sprung free, cocking her head to the side at how big it appeared. 

No wonder he had an ego. 

She leaned back onto her elbows, pulling her knees back as she stared Aaric in the eyes.

He groaned at the action before grabbing her thighs, sliding her to the edge of the desk. He slid himself against her, gathering the wetness. She shivered at the friction against her clit, her body so warm that she felt as though she was going into a frenzy.

“Stop playing around, Graycastle,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering.

“I thought it was Aaric? Or is that only when I am making you cum?” he smirked before sliding himself inside - he hissed as she moaned. The slow spread rushed to Evelina’s head, the feeling of fullness increasing as she took him inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gritted out as he pressed his palms to the back of her thighs as he peered down at where they were connected. Once he was fully seated inside of her, he paused - his eyes fluttering closed before he sighed.

Aaric opened his eyes, staring down at Evelina’s flushed face as he began to slowly move inside of her.

She groaned as the pleasure spread from the edge of her toes to the tip of her nose, a slow tingle passing through her legs. 

His green eyes bore into hers as she tilted her head back, he increased the pace - pressing her knees further back. The angle change had him slipping deeper inside of her.

“O-oh, fuck, don’t stop,” Evelina moaned, desperately grabbing his hips.

“No intention of that, I promise,” Aaric gritted out, as his rhythm slammed into her. 

She tightened against him as the pleasure reverberated through her, her head dizzy as his pace was relentless, “P-please, fuck. Harder, Aaric,” she begged.

He shifted slightly and followed her instruction - her moans turning into whines as she fell over the edge again. Her legs shaking under his palms as he continued to pound into her, the sound of her wetness echoing through the classroom.

His movements became erratic as his groans deepened, Aaric’s voice raspy as his head fell to her shoulder - bucking inside of her, “F-fuck, Evelina,” 

Aaric breathed heavily, the warmth spreading inside of her as she let her head fall against the wood. He straightened slightly, his green eyes searching her own.

“No Your Grace?” Aaric inquired with a smirk, Evelina smacked him on the shoulder with a shake of her head. 

——————————————————————————————————

Note from the author: Unfortunately I have fallen in love with Evelina so let me know if y'all want more of these two or if a different pairing is what you want to see (I am pondering a Ridoc one shot but have to find a good female OC for him)

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Keep her safe.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Keep her safe.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[kingdom-of-sins]

Bodhi Durran x Reader

Summary: Thrashing is totally not going how you expected

The sun dips lower in the sky, shadows stretching across the Threshing grounds as the last of the newly bonded cadets soar away with their dragons. You stand alone, your chest rising and falling with exhaustion, your hands scraped and bleeding. Almost everyone is gone. And yet, no dragon has chosen you.

A familiar voice cuts through the thinning crowd. "Still here? Guess even the dragons can tell you’re weak," Bodhi Durran smirks, arms crossed as he leans lazily against a boulder, watching you.

Your jaw tightens, frustration and exhaustion churning together. "Go away, Bodhi."

He doesn’t. He never does. Always watching, always taunting. You hate him for it. Hate how much he enjoys pushing you. Hate the glint in his eyes when you snap back at him.

But there’s no time for that now.

A deep, earth-shaking growl rumbles through the air, making your entire body go rigid. The ground trembles beneath your feet. Slowly, you turn.

A massive Red swordtail dragon stands at the edge of the clearing, its scales shimmering like fresh blood, its yellow eyes locked onto you. Its long, razor-sharp tail flicks behind it, cutting deep grooves into the dirt.

Then, it lunges.

You barely throw yourself out of the way before a stream of fire erupts where you stood. The heat scorches your skin, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you roll across the dirt, scrambling to your feet. The dragon snarls, its wings flaring wide as it stalks closer. You run, dodging left, then right, but it’s too fast.

Talons slash across your arm, ripping through fabric and skin. Pain flares, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Your lungs burn, your legs scream, but the dragon is relentless.

From the edge of the field, Bodhi stands tense, fists clenched. His dragon, Cuir, shifts beside him, green scales gleaming in the fading light, ready to attack. But neither of them move. Rules are rules. No one can step in.

You stumble, body aching, vision blurring. The dragon towers over you now, shadow swallowing you whole. Its mouth opens, sharp teeth glinting.

“Pathetic little thing.”

The voice slithers into your mind, deep, dark, and laced with amusement. Your breath catches. You can hear him. That means—

“You actually survived. Barely. Hilarious.” A low chuckle echoes through your head. “Fine. You’re mine.”

Everything stops. The dragon has bonded with you.

Before you can react, movement catches your eye. Bodhi. He’s running toward you, breaking every rule, his usual smirk wiped clean from his face. His green eyes burn with something raw—something dangerously close to worry.

The Red swordtail snarls, shifting protectively over you, wings snapping open in warning. Bodhi skids to a halt, Cuir already behind him, ready to fight.

"Bodhi, stop!" you gasp, pushing yourself up. "He bonded with me!"

Bodhi freezes, disbelief flickering across his face before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. Relief floods his features, but his jaw remains tight. "Took you long enough."

The dragon snorts, a deep, rumbling laugh vibrating through your bones. “This one likes you.”

Your face heats. "He does not."

Bodhi watches you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his gaze. "What’s his name?"

You glance up at the dragon, pulse still racing. "What is your name?"

“I am Veyrion.”

His name hums with power, filling every inch of your mind. You swallow hard, then turn to Bodhi. "Veyrion."

Bodhi exhales, nodding. "Well... congrats."

“Enough talking. Get on, little human.” Veyrion nudges you forward, impatience crackling in his tone. “Time to go. I hope you are not scared of heights.”

Your hands shake as you grip his scales, pulling yourself up. He’s massive, every inch of him screaming power. And somehow, impossibly, he’s yours.

"Hold tight. I won't catch you if you fall."

Bodhi steps back, Cuir shifting beside him. There’s something in his gaze, pride, maybe. A flicker of something else, something softer. But before you can place it, Veyrion launches into the sky, wings cutting through the air like blades.

As you soar higher, the ground shrinking below, you glance back. Bodhi watches you disappear as the sun starts to set, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a sharp command, he follows.

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Five More Minutes | B. Durran |

Bodhi Durran x established gf! Reader

Synopsis: you wanted five more minutes to sleep

Word count: 1k

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, smuttiness, implied smut? Not proofread well probs

A/n: sorry for being horny on the main lmao, this was supposed to be fluff, I don’t how I got here 🤥 anyways this is my first published smutty blurb attempt so please be gentle! This was a bit out of my comfort zone tbh but I had fun lol. I hope you enjoy!

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding—you slapped the knob on the side of the alarm clock on the bedside for the second time that morning, snoozing it once again. Five more minutes. Going to your morning lesson was no longer the tedious feat as it was in Basigath now you were at the Riorson House. So five extra minutes wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes. Arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer into the broad warm chest you were so accustomed to. Smiling lightly, wrapping your hands around Bodhi’s forearms as he peppered small kisses to the back of your shoulder savoring the feeling of his closeness.

“Snoozing the alarm clock again?” His voice was raspy from sleep, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“And if I did?” You tilted your head to the side, feeling his lips press even more warm soft kisses up underneath your ear. The sensation sends waves of warmth through your body, and you feel the heat settle deep in your core.

His fingers rubbed small circles into your exposed waist where his sleep shirt you wore rose. “Y/n/n…” he warned.

You smirked lazily, turning in his arms to face him. You pushed his shoulder back so he was laying flat on the bed, and climbed on top of him straddling his waist. You rubbed your hands down his muscular torso softly, eliciting a sigh from his full lips. He looked so handsome when he first woke up, and your insides practically turned to molten lava at the sight of the relic that trailed up his arm to the side of his neck contrasting against his tawny skin. You could have traced the intricate patterns and swirls for hours never getting tired of doing so.

“What’s five more minutes gonna hurt?” You asked innocently. You reached up to brush a few of the dark unruly curls that laid in his face then caressing his cheek, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

He leaned into your touch, kissing your palm as he opened his eyes looking up at you. His own hands had found your bare thighs massaging lightly.

The light streamed into his bedroom, radiating golden rays over him and you. There was something about you on top of him in nothing but your underwear and his shirt that was angelic. With your bedhead and the watery gaze from your slumber was so sexy to him watching a small pout form on your lips.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his grip tightening the slightest on your thighs. “I’m section leader, and if they catch you—a cadet— in my room…“

You cut him off by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his cheeks. He kissed you back, the tenderness and sweetness ebbing between you two swelled at your heart. You bit his lower lip, a soft moan leaving his mouth, and your tongue slipped into the mouth deepening the kiss even more. Your hands wrapped into his hair, and his found their way to your backside kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

As angelic as you were in the morning light, you were an evil woman, he had thought, feeling the familiar twitch of his cock.

“We’re gonna be late, Y/n.” He protested as he pulled for a breath before you kissed him again.

“So,” you panted. You wanted to lay in Bodhi’s bed forever with him, everything had a looming grey over it lately with the revolution, everything except for the sanctuary in these four walls you found with him.

“Babygirl,” he groaned, his eyes screwing shut when he felt your hand trail down his torso. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. Aetos will have my head again if I’m la—“ his words stopped short when a loud knock from the door startled the both of you.

“Section Leader Durran, I know you and Cadet Y/l/n are in there.” Garrick’s voice sounded from behind the wood, and you could hear the giggles of Imogen from beside him. “And let me tell you, Aetos is already planning some colorful punishments for the both of you.” You could hear him stifling a laugh as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes as you went back to pressing open mouth kisses on his prominent jaw line, and Bodhi tensed fighting the moan that wanted to tumble out of his mouth. He grabbed your hips to try to stop you, but you kept working your way down the column of his throat.

“We’ll be down to briefing in a second!” Bodhi called.

“Briefing starts now though, section leader!” Imogen mockingly retorted.

“Five minutes!” He called out, his teeth gritting together when he felt you start grinding slowly against him. His resolve deteriorated when it came to you. And his resolve was nonexistent as he felt your wetness seep through your panties. He mentally cursed to himself, feeling his bulge harden. You two weren’t going to even make it to the briefing at this point.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you!” Imogen and Garrick merely laughed from behind the door as the sounds of their footsteps retreated.

You looked up at him through your lashes, and his usually honeyed brown eyes were darkened with the familiar haze of lust. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he rolled you off of him, and flipped you on to the mattress.

“This is going to be worth every punishment and more.” He growled darkly into your ear then kissed the sweet spot right under it, a small gasp escaping from you as he did so.

The five minutes turned to fifty five minutes to say the least. And when you showed up to the second lesson of the day facing an angry Dain Aetos, Bodhi couldn't help but wink at you once you two got scolded, not mad at all you were an hour late.

Eeeep!! I hope you guys enjoyed! 💞 feedback is definitely appreciated since this is my first smutty blurb! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated too 🫶

[lady-of-tearshed]

Liam Mairi masterlist

One-shots:

Get him back (angst) (fluff) (X Reader)

Liam Mairi taglist:

Artists credits:

drsoaresrex

mybookishdoodles

[sapchat]

i want to read the most guy wrenching heart shattering liam mairi fanfiction because my baby deserved BETTER and LOVE LIKE NO OTHER (i would also fuck the daylights out of ridoc because i imagined him as stiles stilisnki era dylan obrien)

Okay well you’ve just made me realize why part of me likes Ridoc. Cuz it reminds me of Stiles fucking Stilinski.

ALSO I would love nothing more than to read the most gut punching, heart wrenching, heart shattering, lips of an angel type shit, story about Liam.

Like imagine a story where readers signet is being able to communicate with past souls or some shit, like all they need is an object which is difficult since their belongings get burned. But we have his letters to Sloan, and the dragons he carved so we can still communicate and “summon” him.

[quietstormxr]

Home

Part 2 of 'Forgotten'

Angst, Fluff

Poll Chosen : Xaden Riorson x Reader

Summary: After leaving Navarre behind, you promise yourself you will fight with or without your dragon and beloved. Fighting though, for some reason always leads you to Xaden.

A/N: FW/IF Spoilers.

Word Count: >28k (settle in and get comfy)

I really hope y'all enjoy this one. Let me know what you think.

Part 1

What does one do when they run away from their dragon and desert their war college? 

Hide, of course. 

Pausing at a copse of trees, you sink down to your knees and pull the now tattered cloak as firmly around your shoulders as you can. The bitter chill of the wind has begun to settle into your bones as you miss the warmth of a roaring fire and warm bed.

Days of traveling by foot have taken a grueling toll on your body. Though you haven’t gone hungry, thanks to your foresight of paying attention to infantry during RSC missions, the small game that you’ve caught and cooked over small fires has not done much to satisfy your hunger. The fire, in turn, barely warms your hands and feet when the night chill settles in.

As your head rests against the back of a tree, you take a deep breath trying to clear your mind. Even though you succeeded in your plan to slip away, it doesn’t take away the hurt that has twisted like a knife in your heart every step growing more painful than the last. Taking shallow breaths, you try to will away the devastation that seems to settle in your entire being.

The connection to your dragon has seemed to go dormant, a hollow feeling taking its place in your soul. You’re unsure if it will ever break completely, but you haven’t tried to pull towards it either. 

Reflecting on the bond, you can’t help but wonder if your dragon is glad to be rid of a rider that let themselves fall into the background. You feel a sense of cowardice and guilt wash over you at leaving everyone to fight the coming war. It’s that heartache of being a coward, for your dragon and beloved, that finally solidified a decision for your probably short future. 

As you were already in Poromiel, you knew there was no going back to Navarre. Besides, the Poromish have been fighting for much longer and are attacked more often if your experience in Resson was anything to go by.  

A few days prior you came across a small village, the people there wary of you dressed in all black leathers. Those reactions caused you to immediately find the nearest tailor and buy a new set of clothes with the little money you had with you.  The tailor was obviously distrusting of you, but no one was going to turn down coin when living in a small village, never knowing when your next sale would be. 

Although you purchased a wool shift dress, you didn’t have enough for a new cloak, hence the tattered holes that riddled yours from days of sleeping in the woods. 

Taking a deep breath, you lay down to get some sleep for the night hoping that the villagers were right, and you will arrive in Pavis in the morning. 

At the first sign of dawn, you sit up stretching out your back and muscles that have cramped during the night from sleeping on the hard ground. As soon as you feel blood flowing back into your extremities, you stand slowly wiping the sleep from your eyes. Staggering forward, you head toward the small stream you had noticed before picking this area to camp for the night. 

As soon as you arrive you drop down and splash the cold water on your face and drink your fill of the clean, cool water. The shock of cold sends a shiver down your body, doing wonders in pushing the last vestiges of sleep from your mind.

You begin walking in the same southeastern direction the villagers had directed you in just four days ago. Letting a small groan fall from your lips, you try to forget the sluggish feeling that has overtaken your body from so many days of travel. 

It’s as if Amari and Zinhal have finally thought to bless you as you finally see a large town come into view. A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally see a town that rivals Chantara and not just a small village with nothing there.

You drag your tired body to the first tavern you see and take a deep breath at the smell of spiced, roasted meats filling your lungs. A second later, your stomach growls loudly in protest of not being filled. Sitting down at the bar, you open your pack fishing for the remaining coin.

Pulling out your small purse, you drop the contents on the bar in front of the barkeep.

“What can I get for this?” You ask, hoping beyond hope that you can get something filling. 

“Not much. I can probably get you a small bowl of stew and a glass of wine.” The barkeep replies giving you a slightly suspicious look. 

It dawns on you that the man can probably hear the accent you have when you speak the Krovlish language. You may be proficient, but it’s been almost impossible to hide your accent.

“That would be lovely.” You say hoping that you can seem as harmless as possible. At least you know that no one will see the daggers that are strapped to your body since the shift you bought covers them well. 

As soon as you exchange the coins, you are presented with a small steel bowl filled with a delicious smelling stew of beef and local vegetables. You dig in, savoring every single bite that begins to warm you from the inside out, letting out a contented sigh as the food hits your empty stomach. As you continue eating, you can see the barkeep watching you from the corner of your eye. In order to beat some of the suspicion, you take the chance and begin talking. 

“Can I ask if you are currently looking for any help?” You ask as you begin to bring the wine cup to your lips. 

The barkeep, a middle-aged man with bronzed skin and dark blue eyes that are clearly analyzing your motives. “You don’t seem like you’re from here. Where are you coming from?”

At the question, you startle slightly but make sure to hide your surprise at the question. “I’ve been displaced since the invasion in Resson.”

You decide that being as truthful as possible will be the only way to go, hopefully garnering the trust of the man you are currently speaking with. The barkeep continues to look you over, but you don’t miss the pitying gaze that he gives you. You can’t help but scoff internally as you realize how in the dark the people of Navarre have become, but obviously venin attacks are openly spoken about.

“I’m looking for a bed and to make some money.” You begin to explain exactly what you’re trying to find. “Eventually, I hope to join the rest of your military to fight against the threat that’s being ignored past your borders.”

“And why would I believe that? You’re obviously Navarrian. What if you’re just here to cause trouble?” The barkeep drolls on, but the calculation in his eyes is obvious. “Besides, I thought only a riot of dragon riders helped to fight in Resson.”

The wince is impossible to keep off your face. Taking a large sigh, you let everything out. You tell the barkeep that you were a rider, having since left your dragon, Basgiath, and Navarre behind. You try to convey the conviction you feel about helping the people of Poromiel and the overarching continent, even recounting the tale of the little girl you saved. As you begin to finish, you can see the hard lines of the barkeep’s expression begin to smooth. 

“I’m not sure how you pulled off leaving a dragon behind, as well as Basgiath, but you seem genuine.” He says matter-of-factly. “Tell you what…We’ll have a trial. You help around the tavern with any tasks given and you can stay on the cot near the kitchens.”

“And, if you’re serious about joining the war effort, I’ll get in touch with those I know in the military and see if I can get you involved.” The thankful smile that falls across your face is a relief from the sadness and fear that had gripped you over the last few days. 

“That sounds wonderful.” There’s no way to hide the earnestness in your voice. “I appreciate your kindness and willingness to give me a chance. Things haven’t been easy the last few days.”

“Well, if you’re going to be staying here, introductions are in order. My name is Redvers, but you can call me, Red. Ceridwen is my wife, and she runs the kitchens.” Red holds out his hand to shake and you take it enthusiastically, happy to finally be able to have someone to at least converse with and give you a chance. 

“I’m Y/N. I really won’t be able to thank you enough for this.”

He chuckles. “Don’t thank me too much yet, you haven’t worked or have even seen where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I doubt any cot could be worse than the cold, hard ground.” You mutter ruminating on how nice it will be to sleep somewhere other than on the forest floor.

“Come, you can begin working tomorrow. Tonight, you can rest and get settled.”

Red leads you to a small room that is only large enough to house a cot and small table. You look back at him and smile as you take your pack off and place it next to the table. 

“Let me know if you need anything, the tavern is usually open late into the evening.” Red says before turning and closing the small door. 

You immediately try to light a mage light and as you try for the third time, it finally hits you. All the powers you had are now gone. You fumble in the room until you find a candle and a flint to light it. As soon as the small flame is lit, you fall to the cot and your head falls back onto the pillow. 

Finally feeling some semblance of safety, all the emotions you’d drowned out since a silver haired girl entered the scene crashes down at once. 

Staring at the beams of the ceiling, you try to normalize your breathing, but its useless. Your body has gone into shock, panic overtaking your every sense. Breathing is erratic, and tears are streaming down your face in a torrent as your body begins to shiver and shake in response to your breaking. You turn to the side and curl up into the tightest ball you possibly can and let yourself fall completely apart. 

You’re unsure of when or how you fell asleep, but as you wake with a pounding headache, you realize at some point in the night your body must’ve given out. The emotion that overtook you taking every ounce of energy you had left in your body. As you trudge from the bed, you look to see someone brought a pitcher of water while you’ve been out. 

Pouring yourself a cup of water and staring out of the small window you hadn’t noticed when you entered, you try to take a deep breath though all you feel is a hollowness. As you stare into the night sky, the sadness of now being alone settles like a heavy cloak. All you can do is count your breaths and hope that you made the right decision. 

A few days go by, and you find yourself getting into the groove of assisting in the tavern. You begin noticing the townspeople that seem to come in regularly. A few fliers have also made themselves known, although you know they have no idea their enemy is feeding them stew and serving them wine and ale. 

You grow close to both Red and Ceridwen, learning of their story and their families. You never thought you would find such wonderful and caring people, especially when you just randomly walked into this space. They welcomed you as if you were the daughter they never had. 

Ceridwen began taking you under her wing and helping cook in the kitchens, teaching you recipes you’d never seen before. It was there that you could hear the conversations and gossip from those coming through the tavern. 

“I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to accomplish with Sorrengail.” Your ears immediately perk up at the name going to stand closer to the serving window of the kitchen.

“Look Cat, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing either way. The betrothal is null and void. There is no reason for you to bother with Riorson any longer.” Your eyes flash as you realize who they are talking about, but then they furrow trying to place the name Cat. 

“You and I both know he’s not really in love with her. If there’s one thing that I learned being betrothed to the bastard is that he’s incapable of feelings besides calculation and revenge.” You’re unsure why but her words about Xaden make your blood begin to boil. 

“Just because he wasn’t emotionally available for you doesn’t mean he’s emotionless. Stop being so petty.” The other girl counters, obviously trying to put this Cat girl in her place.

“Secondly, if that is the case, what would you call the other girl that always had him distracted.” 

“Oh her, she was never a threat. Besides, look how easily she was left behind. The group didn’t even notice they were leaving with a riderless dragon when flying out of Resson. Some feelings he had for her if she was that forgettable.” The defiant tone in Cat’s voice causes a stone to settle in your stomach. 

With the last statement, you move out of earshot of anyone in the tavern. The knife that’s been embedded in your heart since you disappeared turns a little tighter making it hard to breathe. You can’t help but wonder when the knife will just explode and either kill you or leave you so emotionless you can’t be hurt anymore.

The rest of the day passes as if molasses through the eye of a needle. When you are finally able to retire for the night, you fall on your cot and try to breathe through the heartache that seemed to settle inside you, a tight band constricting further and further across your chest. 

When you rise the next morning, you are more set than ever that you need to get to the front lines of this war. If you are going to lose your life, you might as well lose it while trying to fight the real enemy, maybe then the hollow feeling in your chest will stop. 

As soon as you can, you go to speak with Red. “Have you had any luck finding someone to connect you with the military?”

The surprised look on Red’s face is almost comical, maybe he didn’t think you were serious about that part. He motions for you to sit down at a stool, and he sits next to you.

“I spoke with one of the commanders of the drifts. She has instructed that if you are interested, you will have to bring your supplication to Viscount Tecarus in Cordyn.” Red finishes and he looks at you directly as if to ascertain if this is what you want.

“How exactly do I get to Cordyn from here?” Asking that question makes his face fall slightly.

“Are you sure that is the path you wish to take? Ceridwen and I are more than happy to help you and let you continue living here. We’ve both come to enjoy your company over the past weeks.” The sad look that Red gives you causes you to let out a sad smile. You never thought deserting your position as a rider would end up leading you to people who had become surrogate parents. 

You get up and sling your arms around Red. Although startled, he wraps his arms around your waist in a warm hug. 

“You really have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you say that.” You pause trying to find the right words. “But all my life I’ve been left behind. Now, I have the opportunity to stand up for those who cannot and if I fall doing so, at least I know I died honorably.”

You can see the sadness in his face as he comes to terms with the fact that you won’t be changing your mind. Red gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand.

“Give me a few days and I will help get you to Cordyn. On foot or by carriage it takes several days, but I may be able to get you a flight with one of the gryphons.”

Your eyes widen as you take in his words. “Would a gryphon even allow someone besides their flier on their back? Won’t they know that I was a dragon rider?” You can’t help the thought and fear that grips you. 

“Yes, you would be allowed to fly. And no, they won’t know you were a rider.” Red says with so much conviction your brows knit together. “You see I know a little about bonds, between gryphons and dragons.”

“When a bond is tested by the rider or flier, it can be broken if the gryphon or dragon chooses to do so. I’m unsure if your dragon has chosen to break the bond, as its hard for a human to decipher, but the gryphon won’t be able to sense it as it is buried.”

“How exactly do you know all of that?” You can’t keep the confused look off your face at the new information.

“Because back in my younger days, I was a gryphon flier myself.” Your eyes widen as you take in the new information. 

“Why didn’t you kill me on-site?” The question forms unbidden on your tongue and escapes before you can stop it.

Red gives you a warm smile before stating simply. “Because you fought for those who needed help. You chose to aid someone you were taught was the enemy without question and saved a young girl. Valor like that is worth more than just being classified as a dragon rider or gryphon flier.” 

Without even forming the thought, you find yourself back in his warm embrace. “Thank you for trusting me and recognizing something in me that most other people seem to take for granted.”

“I think you underestimate how many people see your loyalty, honor, and valor. However, I do believe that all those qualities can be taken for granted. It’s not uncommon to be left behind when you quietly lift people up.” He pauses with a thoughtful look on his face. “It isn’t usually until those people lose the person that held them high that they realize everything they had and lost.”

With those words, Red leaves you to get to work getting the tavern set up for the day. 

The parting words seem to continue to float in your mind for days. You never wanted to be taken for granted, but it seemed like your entire life people always just assumed you would be there. You knew that your nature to be a safe haven in the storms of life for everyone was something people loved. However, when it was calm, you always felt that people would let you drift behind. A forgotten force only needed to bolster someone in times of trouble.

Thinking your time at Basgiath over, you realized that you had always been a haven for Xaden and his group. You were constantly there trying to help them in every way you could. What you didn’t realize was that they played you for a fool, taking advantage of your willingness to help. 

Reflecting, you remember all the times you told them about the weapons that Emmetterio would have brought in and even showed them the forge at Basgiath. You had signed up for weapons maintenance, and they ended up having clear access to everything they were looking for from you. You shake your head as all the small things you missed come crashing down. 

Luckily today was a rare occasion where Ceridwen had you going to the market to pick up supplies, so you weren’t trying to serve anyone as the reality of everything began to crash into you. 

You stop on your way to the market and let yourself sink down on a large rock not far from the road. You want to cry, but you just don’t have any tears left to give. Time and time again you feel like you were just a pawn in someone’s game. 

Anger at yourself, Xaden, and everyone that you considered a friend at Basgiath begins to make your blood heat. How could you have been so naïve?

With a tumult of emotions roaring through your body, you head back to the tavern, the market all but forgotten. A new determination coils inside your mind as you realize the only way to get through these feelings is to be useful. You want to get lost in the adrenaline of war, of putting your life on the line and not caring the outcome.

As if Red can read your thoughts, the minute you return to the tavern he is waiting with a dark-haired man in form fitting brown leathers. You pull up short not expecting to have anyone expecting your arrival.

“Ah, just who I was looking for.” Red says as he gestures for you to join him and his companion. 

You begin forward hesitantly not really knowing how to proceed with someone that is so visibly a flier. All of your instincts from years of hearing they were the enemy causing your trepidation to rise, though you try to tamp it down as Red gives you a look of assurance. You take a deep calming breath and know that you must put your trust in the man that has helped you over the last two months.  

“Y/N, this is Drake Cordella.” Red says motioning to the man next to him. Drake immediately puts his hand out to shake yours and gives you a warm smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Drake says warmly, and you give him a small nod and smile in return while shaking his hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. I’m assuming that Red has informed you on my want to join the war effort.” You decide bluntness about the whole situation is better than trying to skirt around the edges. 

“Yes, he’s filled me in on your situation shall we say.” A questioning look is immediately shot to Red who is still just smiling back at you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Drake is a close friend of mine. He won’t divulge any information if you wish to keep it secret.” Red reassures you letting your heart settle a little. 

“I assure you, giving up any information on you is the last thing I want to do. However, I am curious as to how things are for you since being separated from your bond for so long.” Taking a look around the tavern, you can’t help the unease that settles at talking about this topic in the open.

“Would you both mind talking somewhere a little more private? I haven’t gone this long without being discovered to out myself now.” You ask, hoping you can go to Red’s office that is at the back and soundproof.

“Of course, lets head to my office.” Red says leading the way to the back.

As soon as the three of you are inside and comfortable, you take a deep breath and share the details of the past two months with them. Divulging the way your bond seems to be underneath a glass layer or buried at the bottom of a clear lake, you can still sense the pull, but it has weakened enormously. Confirming that you haven’t been able to communicate with your dragon or even draw any semblance of power. Turning on mage lights, powering pens, opening and locking doors with magic, all seem to be lost to you with the bond being silent. 

They both seem to listen in rapt fascination. You realize it may not be ideal to tell the ‘enemy’ all this information, but you are certain that you won’t be seeing any Navarrians any time soon. While talking, you watch Drake move to brace his elbows on his knees as if you are telling the most fascinating story he’s ever been told.

“You were one of the riders that fought in Resson?” Drake questions, his face becoming one of contemplation. 

“Yes, I rescued a young girl and killed a venin before, as some would say, I deserted my riot.” You bring your head down to the floor suddenly ashamed of your actions. 

“None of that.” You catch Drake waving his hand off noncommittally at your comment. “You obviously don’t know this, but your disappearance is well known in Poromiel. I believe those in Navarre believe you are dead, at least I believe that is part of the story Riorson and Sorrengail spun.”

Your nose crinkles and stomach sours at the mention of both Xaden and Sorrengail, two names you hope you’d never hear again, let alone see.

“You see, I believe you have someone looking very intently for your whereabouts.” You can’t help the scoff that immediately leaves your lips. If there is anything you won’t believe its that anyone from Navarre is looking for you. 

“Besides, I believe your dragon has kicked up a bit of a fuss for those in the vale if the rumors are to be believed.” You stare back at Drake not believing how much he seems to know about you and your situation. Shaking your head, you decide its time to now get back down to the real business and not idle gossip. 

“Will any of that deter you from taking me to help the Poromish with this war?” You question. “You see, I don’t rightly care about parsing through any attachments to Navarre or any of the people in it. However, I do care about helping as much as I can to eliminate the threat of the venin.”

A sly smile marks a change in Drake’s demeanor moving past the questioning of your ties to Navarre. 

“I respect that is your decision. Red and I have discussed this, and I wanted to see if you would like to accompany me to Cordyn to meet my uncle.” Drake informs.

“If meeting with the Viscount is the only way that I can prove my intention to aid, then I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” The conviction in your voice makes Drake give you a curt nod, even as Red gives you a sad smile.

“Ceridwen and I are going to miss you, Y/N.” Red says sincerity lining every word. “Please know that you will always have a home here.”

Those words cause you to immediately stand and cross the room, wrapping your arms tightly around the man that welcomed you warmly into his domain. 

“No words will convey how thankful I am that you took a chance on me. Thank you for your loyalty, comfort, and love. Without those things, I’m not sure if I would’ve survived much longer.” You whisper for only him to hear. “I will be forever grateful to you for absolutely everything you’ve done for me.”

After giving him another tight squeeze, you head to your rooms to begin packing the few things that were yours. A light knock on the door brings your attention away from combing through the last of the items. Before you can say a word, Ceridwen comes in carrying a small box and a sad smile on her lips.

“Red told me that you’ll be heading out with Drake soon.” She says matter-of-factly moving to stand at your side while you give a small nod. “You may not have been with us long but know that you’ll always be like a daughter to us.”

As she finishes, she hands out the small box to you. You take it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you open it. Inside a black velvet box is a gold necklace with a small round pendant. You examine the pendant, and your eyebrow raises at the runes carved into one side. Ceridwen goes to take the necklace from you and places it on your neck. 

“Keep this on you at all times, especially in Cordyn.” She states firmly. “You may or may not know this, but fliers usually have gifts that entail mind work.”

She pauses as if thinking through her words as she grabs your shoulders and turns you around. “You can trust Drake, but there are those who – if they find out who you are- will do anything to make your life miserable.”

Staring back at Ceridwen, you know that the words she is giving you are for your benefit, not to scare you or coerce you to stay. 

“Thank you.” You begin as you wrap her in a hug just as fierce as the one you gave her husband. “I know we may not cross paths again, but please know how much you and Red mean to me. I told him already, but there aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to give you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

Ceridwen hugs you back just as fiercely before stepping away, you must take a deep breath when she steps back and you see the tears swimming in her eyes.

Not even an hour later, you’ve shouldered your pack and dressed in the only pants and shirt that you had which happened to be some old clothes of Red’s. As you walk out of the tavern, it’s impossible not to turn and give it a once over, committing every small crack, hole, and crevice to memory. Since you had started at Basgiath three years ago, you were unsure if you’d ever be in another place that hurt your heart so much to leave, but now here you are.

As you walk towards Drake, you can see the outline of his gryphon in the distance. The warmth and sadness that you felt leaving the tavern now turning into fear at the creature in front of you. 

Obviously sensing your trepidation, whether from your expression or the way your walk slowed, Drake holds out his hand as if in comfort. 

“I know this will be intimidating, but I promise he won’t hurt you.” Even though his words mean to placate your fear, you can’t help the raise of one of your brows in challenge.

“D-Does h-he know that I’m a dragon rider?” Your voice slides into a quiet whisper as you ask the last part of the question.

Drakes warm chuckle begins to ease the tension that has settled in your stomach. “Yes, just like your dragon, its impossible to get him out of my head.”

You look at Drake in fascination that he can seem to break the tension you’re feeling without doing more than say just the right thing.

“Are you always so comforting? Or do you have some sort of agenda here?” Your hand flies to your mouth in horror that you couldn’t stop your words. Worry is short-lived though when Drake lets out a warm booming laugh.

“I promise I have no ulterior motives.” A cocky smirk falling on his lips. “But I can’t help being born with such a charming nature.”

“And there it is.” You begin to tease as your tension continues to lighten. “I was wondering when your cocky side was going to come out.”

Without even realizing, his teasing had made you completely forget that you were headed directly for his gryphon. As you finally reach the animal, you can’t help but notice the amazing sheen to its feathers that still glints an impossible shade of gold in the moonlight. Everything about the creature seems softer than your dragon, although as you look at the talons below, you know that it can be just as vicious when it needs to be.  

Drake takes your hand and brings it to the gryphon’s face. You look at him uncertainly, your heartrate beginning to spike wondering if this is the part where you get fed to his talons and sharp beak. Although, your thoughts are cut short when the gryphon simply dips it and seems to sniff at your wrist.

“He isn’t going to bite. Gryphons just like to assess a person before they are allowed to ride. They, unlike most dragons, are willing to fly those in need of transportation, especially if their flier deems their purpose worthy.” Drake explains as he continues to hold your hand out. 

“Fascinating.” You say with no sarcasm in your tone. It’s not the first time since you left that you’ve wondered what exactly happened that caused dragons and gryphons to be so hostile to each other. However, you’re unsure if it’s the beings themselves or just the people that they bond with.

After a few minutes more, Drake drops your hand gently back to your side before taking your pack and securing it to his gryphon.

“if you don’t mind, I’d like you to sit in front of me.” Drake begins. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the movement from gryphons compared to dragons is quite different and we don’t want you falling off.”

You shake your head and the next thing you know; he is hoisting you between the gryphon’s wings. 

“Now, you’ll need to scoot a little closer to his neck – yes – right there, perfect.” As he finishes, you are impressed with the ease in which he settles himself behind you. 

Without warning, they gryphon launches into the air, and you find yourself smacking directly into Drake’s chest. Your cheeks burning scarlet, you can do nothing but thank Zinhal it is already dark outside. 

“We’ll be flying at a lower altitude than you’re used to, so you should definitely be able to get some rest.” Drake explains, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear. 

You mentally slap yourself, but you can’t help the flush of your cheeks again. You close your eyes against the feeling, scolding yourself that it hasn’t been that long since a man has showed you attention.

You shake your head at his words and let your mind drift to the beats of the gryphon’s wings. Between the warmth of the lower altitude and the rhythmic flapping, you find yourself nodding off too quickly. 

Your consciousness slowly coming back, you snuggle into the warmth that has seemed to settle into your bones. It isn’t until you recognize the flapping of your wings that you are snapping to attention. Turning your head, you are met with Drake’s warm smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

“Have a nice sleep there?” He teases you. “I’m glad that I was a comfortable blanket.”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment as you quickly turn around back to the gryphon’s golden neck, the mortification burning in your cheeks.

Drake’s warm laugh breaks your embarrassment. “Don’t worry, it was pretty cute.”

Your head drops again in mortification, and you give a pout at his teasing, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. Though the feeling doesn’t stay around long when Drake begins to point in front of you.

Your eyes now widen, and jaw goes slack in absolute awe. Standing in stark relief to the blue of the coastline is a palace so intricate you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. As your eyes roam quickly, you can’t decide if you should focus on the intricate white walls of gleaming marble, or the pools that look as blue as the sky. Trying to count the seemingly endless number of terraces and small gardens that jut out in all directions, you have a hard time concentrating on any one piece. 

“You didn’t tell me to expect this.” Now looking down at the oversized clothes you are in, you can’t help but feel like a peasant waiting to be judged by royalty. You scoff in your mind because that is exactly what’s about to happen.

“Don’t let the palace and formality fool you. Besides, you won’t have to worry, you’re with me and I know Ceridwen gave you the necklace.” Drake’s tone is a cool calm and you try to infuse your feelings with the same. You are surprised to learn that Drake knew of the necklace but shrug your shoulders knowing that Red and Ceridwen trust him. At this point, you know there is no turning back, although there’s no certainty that you will like what will happen once you step foot in that palace.

Finally landing in a garden off to the side, you look around to see nothing but ornamental shrubs to your left and right. After years at Basgiath and life in Navarre, everything about this place seems overdone. 

Drake dismounts from the gryphon and immediately holds his hand out waiting to steady you as you dismount as well.

“Even though you aren’t a prisoner in any way. I need you to stick close.” Drake says with a serious tone. “You don’t need to fear for your life, but others may be inclined to harm you if they see you walking around by yourself in this clothing. Or at least make your life difficult.”

“What’s wrong with my clothing?” You ask indignantly.

“Nothing,” he says with slight exasperation. “You just have to understand that there won’t be anyone around the palace that doesn’t have a noble’s clothing on. Let’s just say my uncle is a fan of protocol.”

You shake your head understanding now what Drake is trying to convey. “I promise I’ll stick close by.”

Drake motions his hand for you to begin walking and he matches you stride for stride. The closer you get, the more in awe you find yourself. You come to an immediate stop as you look to your right and see nothing but a cloud of butterflies.

You hear a light snicker and turn to see Drake laughing gently at your obvious shock. “I know everything is a lot to take in on first glance, but I promise you can have the grand tour after we get you situated.”

Nodding, you continue walking into hallway upon hallway seeming to get more and more decorative as you descend into the heart of the palace. 

“Good morning, Sterling.” Drake says to a guard standing at two large wooden doors. “I assume my uncle and Syrena are behind there.”

“Yes, Captain. They are both anticipating your arrival.” As he finishes, Sterling looks back at you in judgment and you begin fiddling at his intense stare, but as a soldier he clearly knows better than have his feelings shown on his face.

Drake moves forward and opens the heavy wooden doors, moving them both to the side. You are met with an impressive study dripping with indulgences. There are crystal vases filled with exotic flowers, shelves with thousands of tomes, and fine carpets that have motifs you’ve never seen before.

The shocking details in the room cause you to completely miss the stares of the two other people. But as soon as you look back, you want to do nothing more than back away out of the room.

“Picking up strays now cousin?” The female in the room says. From Drake’s question to the guard, you realize this must be Syrena though you can’t help but bristle at her words.

“If by strays, you mean someone who has previously fought venin, then yes. If you’re just trying to be rude, then screw off.” Your eyebrows shoot up. Of all the things you expected, you never thought you’d hear someone who just met you defend your honor.

“Both of you are acting like children in front of our guest.” A clearly older voice rings out as you watch an older man step out from behind the large desk at the end of the room. 

“Uncle.” Drake says in a slow drawl. “I was in Pavis, and a friend made me aware of someone that was interested in fighting with us against the venin threat. She was there for about two months.”

“I see.” Tecarus says as he begins to walk around you as if inspecting a shiny new toy. “Does our guest possess any gifts or interesting talents?”

The drawl of his voice sounds a shiver down your spine before Drake speaks up again. “Besides combat experience, no she doesn’t possess any other talents.”

Drake looks at you as if wanting to confirm and you give him a small nod.  

“Drake says you’ve dealt with the venin before?” Tecarus asks as he continues to stalk closer to you.

“Yes.” The words leave your lips hesitantly. “I killed one in the combat that I have seen; however, I wouldn’t consider myself overly proficient.”

“Now, now dear. Don’t downplay your abilities. In fact, if the news Syrena has just brought to me is correct, you may have shown up at just the right time.” Drake comes to stand next to his uncle as he continues to make you uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. 

“What news Syrena?” Drake demands to the woman who has begun to step closer as well.

“The venin army is on the move and our intelligence tells us they may be making Zolya and the Academy their next target.” Syrena succinctly conveys the information, no emotion showing on her face.

All teasing in Drake’s face had long since disappeared. Everyone in the room tensed as Syrena continued to explain what the scouts had seen as the most recent movement. A shiver snaked around your body as the extent of the possible attack settled in your mind. 

“Are you planning on evacuating the cadets?” The question slipped from your lips before the thought even fully formed in your mind. 

The three people in the room turned to you seeming to finally remember your existence. You could see the hesitation in Syrena’s face to continue, but soon enough she was going over the evacuation plans for the Academy and the city overall. 

“I’m not a flier, but I would like to help in any way I can.” You hope that your voice is infused with the bravado that is flaring to life inside of you. 

After a few months of trying to bury your past, this seemed like the perfect way to carve out a new role for yourself. Try as you may, you hadn’t been able to get the phantom memories out of your mind. Phantom touches and small moments that had seemed so precious before only burned with dragon fire and stung as a scorpion’s tail. 

Shaking your head, you try to dispel the memories that had still been haunting your dreams. 

“If you’re willing to fight, I’m sure we can find a place for you.” Syrena confirms as Drake clasps a hand to your shoulder in acknowledgment. 

A little over a week later, you find yourself again seated in front of Drake flying towards Zolya. 

For the last week you had been working with Syrena and Drake on fighting, getting outfit in Poromish leathers, and learning as much as you could about the venin and their tactics in Poromiel thus far.

“Before we get to Zolya, we have a stop to make.” Drake says, though his tone belies there is more to this stop.

“Spit out exactly what you aren’t saying.” You spit tersely knowing there is something he isn’t saying.

“You’re going to want to stay with the gryphons and keep the hood of the cloak you have up.” He continues. 

“And you need to tell me exactly what the fuck is about to happen.” You toss back.

With an exaggerated sigh, he continues. “We’re going to pick up weapons from someone I don’t think you’re interested in seeing.”

There is no way that Drake can miss the way that your entire body stiffens like a wooden plank. Of all the things he could have told you, this was the last thing you could’ve possibly imagined. Your head whips around to look at Drake in the eyes.

“Are you telling me that you’re about to pick up weapons from Xaden Riorson.” Your voice comes out smaller than you want, but at this point you know that Drake knows exactly who you are. How would the Poromish not know when they have a bargaining chip?

Suddenly thoughts of betrayal flit across your mind, but before you can spiral too deeply, Drake breaks your thoughts. 

“I promise neither Syrena nor I will say anything about who you are. That is why I’m asking you to raise your hood, cover your face with your handkerchief in your pocket and stay with the gryphons.” You try to take a calming breath as you realize that they are both really trying to make sure that Xaden doesn’t know it’s you. 

Gods. Can you even shield anymore? You immediately begin to test your metal shields and try to reinforce them. The nostalgia that hits you at being back in your mind space is off-putting, the exercise being something you never thought you would do again. 

Sooner than you’d like, you feel the gryphons shift as they begin their descent. Without waiting, you take the handkerchief out of your pocket and tie it over your nose and mouth, after which you bring up the hood of your cloak as the gryphon hits the ground.

Drake easily dismounts and turns to assist you. “Remember, just stay here and keep your mouth closed and this will be over soon enough.” He gives your arm a small squeeze as he turns around and walks towards the small clearing. 

Your breathing begins to pick up as your eyes move to the distance in front of Drake and Syrena and see Sgaeyl and Chradh standing there, the imposing figures of the dragons causing your heart to flutter. All you can do is pray to Zinhal that neither dragon will be able to place your scent, be interested in looking too deeply into you, or tries to delve into your mind. Though no one can see you looking, you watch the entire scene take place. 

The breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on the man that stole your heart in now what seems so long ago and in a completely different life. You keep your head angled down and let your eyes take in the sight of Garrick standing there next to him, studying them both for any injuries. You can’t say they would care if they knew you were here or not, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about their well-being.

Then the tone of Xaden’s voice brings you out of your reverie. “If you don’t stop with the attacks, we won’t have any choice but to stop the drops. Not only are the cadre already suspicious, but the higher rates in attack are making this harder to accomplish.”

“We are aware Riorson, but there is movement you are unaware of that we are currently on our way to try and contain. Actually, there’s plenty you don’t know, and frankly I’m unsure why the Assembly hasn’t been forth coming with what they know.” Syrena claps back, her tone just as menacing as Xaden’s. After spending time on the other side, you can understand the desperation the fliers are feeling.

“Look, we’ll do what we can.” Drake interrupts, breaking the tension between the two, trying to be the voice of reason. “Just know that the threat is getting increasingly worse. Besides, in two weeks’ time, we may not even be around to collect anything from you.”

“What do you mean?” Xaden asks forcing his tone to be a little calmer.

“I mean that we are trying to stave off an organized attack of a large city that will have more than devastating consequences. I’m sorry to be vague, but is your assembly’s job to inform you, not ours.” With that, Drake turns and continues back towards you.  

As if finally recognizing there is another flier in his midst, you watch with your hood covering your eyes as Xaden’s gaze flicks up to you. You don’t miss the uncertain expression on his face and the way he cocks his head slightly to the side as if trying to place you. If you didn’t know him so well, you would’ve missed the small twitch of his hand indicating he was utilizing his shadows. 

At that same moment, you blink down and see the shifting of shadows around your feet. Using every ounce of restraint, you make yourself stand completely still, letting the shadows coil around your feet in curiosity. Forcing breaths in and out, you solidify the shields you hope still work in your mental fortress as tightly as you can. 

The moment that Drake steps up next to his gryphon, you bring your head up fully and lock eyes with Xaden for one second before you turn and allow Drake to help you up. You keep your head firmly down as Drake mounts and just seconds later you are airborne.

As you drift from the meeting spot, Drake’s chuckle breaks your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Syrena is going to have her hands full the next time Riorson does a drop.” He gets out between fits of laughter. Looking over your shoulder, you give him a quizzical look.

“Oh, so you didn’t see then.” Drake explains wryly. “If I can read people as well as I think I can, Riorson either thinks he just saw a ghost or realized who you were and was so shocked he didn’t know what to do.”

Scrunching your nose at Drake’s comment you turn back to the front and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m assuming that since you said Syrena, you don’t normally have any interaction with Xaden.” You ask, now wondering exactly how this whole operation works.

“No. I don’t usually have time for such things.” Drake huffs an almost indignant sound coming from him, it causes your eyebrow to quirk, but you know better than to pry too deeply.

Falling into comfortable silence, you scan your surroundings noticing the changes in topography as you glide closer to Zolya. If there is one thing you can say for flying on a gryphon is that the lower altitude gives much more visibility to the lands around you. 

As you continue to observe the landscape, the familiar sound of rushing water fills your ears between the beats of gryphon wings. Looking down, the Stonewater River flowing below you can’t be mistaken. As dawn begins to break, you take the opportunity to soak in the colors and sounds of the river below you before the chaos that you are sure will ensue. 

Before you have enough time to absorb the beauty of the nature around you, the feeling of descent makes your stomach begin to rise to your throat. As you bring your eyes to the horizon in front of you, you see the fortress of Cliffsbane Academy rising from the ground. 

The foreboding stone is reminiscent of all the times you flew into Basgiath, but for some reason the fear that used to immediately settle in your bones at Basgiath doesn’t come. Unsure if it is just you moving past the fight of living or just accepting today may be your last, you don’t know. 

As the gryphon touches down in the flight field of the Academy, you can’t help the way your head swings as if on a swivel trying to map out your surroundings. A sarcastic huff leaves your mouth as you realize you are a dragon rider now standing in the beating heart of enemy territory. You wrestle with yourself trying to figure out if this is the best idea you’ve ever had or complete madness. 

Drake immediately dismounts and pulls you down soon after. Not letting any hesitation settle into your bones, you take a deep breath and stand tall, following close behind Drake as he confidently moves towards the entry doors.

“I’ll remind you to stay close by while we’re getting directives and moving everyone into their places.” Drake warns as you both continue to stride down the halls.

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in becoming fodder for the students here who may prefer to see me dead.” You challenge back, although there is no malice there.

Before long, Drake stops in front of two large doors and looks back at you giving you a tight nod. As he opens them, your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. The rotunda that you have entered is just as big as the one at Basgiath, but instead of dragon pillars, majestic gryphons in different states of flight line the interior. Golds, browns and whites highlight each other in alternating hues from floor to ceiling, where the colors fade into the painting of a beautiful blue sky. 

You aren’t awed for long when you hear a familiar sounding voice call out from the other side.

“Since when is picking up strays a new past time for you cousin?” A female voice purrs with a malignant sneer.

“Catriona, I’m only going to say this once.” Drake begins as he gives the similar looking female a stern look. “Play. Nice. This isn’t about you or some petty score over a man. She is here to help us, so you will treat her with respect.”

Catriona looks at you, eyes narrowed, while Drake continues. “That is an order, not a request.”

“Oh, I can play nice.” Catriona retorts though the mischief in her eyes shows you probably won’t like what follows. “Besides, what could be more of a punishment than being forgotten about not only by a man you thought loved you, but also your own dragon. You must really feel sorry for yourself to end up in flier leathers.”

You can’t help the slight flinch when she finishes her statement, though you can’t understand how she would even know what you looked like. And with that your entire being begins to feel the helplessness and utter betrayal of being left. A grief so sharp, it feels as if your heart may stop, hits you straight between the ribs causing your breath to hitch.

Drake must realize something because soon enough you watch as he grabs Catriona by the arm and gets into her face. “I said play nice. Quit it now.”

Catriona gives you one last glare before turning and walking away. You’re unsure what just happened, but the sting of her words slowly seems to lessen the further and further she gets away.

A clash of steel breaks you from your emotions at you and Drake both turn and stare at the doors you just entered through. A second later, a warning bell whistles out harshly and all hell breaks loose. You watch as flier cadets seem to come racing from all areas of the building.

“Come on, it seems we were a little later in the timing than we should’ve been.” Drake says ushering you towards the heart of the Academy. 

“It’ll be better if we separate. Where can I help in evacuating?” You say while running to keep up with Drake. 

“Follow this corridor and get out everyone that you can. Remember to use the two blades that I gave you if you come across a venin.” You nod your head sharply at the orders and immediately begin running toward the corridor assigned. 

As you go, you knock heavily on the doors before directing anyone coming out to head to the rotunda and towards their gryphons. You try to keep a tally in your head, but as you reach about twenty, your mind starts to spin. 

A dark cloud seems to enter your mind and no amount of shaking your head clears it. Continuing down the hall and constantly trying to clear your mind, you don’t notice the set of billowing robes that is at the end staring straight at you.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here.” A high-pitched shriek of a voice calls out as you open the door of the last room.

After ushering the last two cadets out, you finally look up and come face to face with the last creature you were hoping to see today.

Venin.

“See me here?” You taunt back in confusion. “You act as if you know me.”

“Oh, we always know a tortured soul when we see one. Especially one so exquisitely bleak as you.” The voice of the female venin shrieks. Your heart begins to race as you try to figure out your best way out of the situation, though things look disheartening when you realize you are at the dead end of a corridor.

“My Sage told me about the girl who was forgotten at the last battle he attended. He could feel the pain radiating off you in waves. He was very disappointed to have to leave you behind.” Everything the female is saying makes your head spin.

Suddenly awareness comes back to you, and you jerk in response to the now close proximity of the female. As you begin circling one another, the thoughts of the possible finalities of this predicament hit you. You don’t have time to dwell though as the female unsheathes a blade and goes to make the first strike.

Immediately parrying, you find yourself completely disadvantaged at the speed the female possesses. You utilize all the training you had done with Xaden and Garrick, but nothing seems to be enough to completely evade her blows. As you aim your own alloyed blade down to strike, you hiss as you feel a blade tear down your left arm. 

A fiery sting erupts from the wound as if hundreds of dragons are firing up and down your arm, but you don’t stop, you can’t. The female steps back slightly admiring her handywork which causes her downfall. You take the move for your advantage and charge directly at her. 

Even though she stepped back, your height made it easy to hit her right between the ribs. A shriek of a scream rends the air as she grabs at the alloyed dagger now protruding from her body. 

Watching as she falls to her knees, you find yourself backing against a wall, the sharp sting of scorpions radiating from your arm. Once the venin falls completely to the ground, you turn and look down. It is then you see the black that has begun to spider down your arm.

You begin to stumble back down the corridor towards the rotunda, hoping that you can drag yourself there. Movement begins to become sluggish as you get closer, hearing the battle still raging around you. Finally reaching the door, you look up and see people being directed out to the adjacent courtyard. Limping forward, you search for the familiar face of Drake.

As luck would have it, on the third pass of the hall, you finally spot him on the far corner. As if acutely aware of your stare, his head jerks up and his eyes land on you. Relief floods his face before it seems to turn to concern as you find yourself slowly sinking to the ground.

“Y/N!” You can hear Drake shout, although everything is beginning to sound far away. The harsh sounds of orders and footsteps seem to make up the background noise in your head, but nothing is clear anymore. Finally hitting the floor, you hiss out a pained breath as it begins to feel as if a thousand needles are running through your veins. 

“Y/N!” Drake shouts again and you see him materialize in front of your face. His voice is both a command and plea at the same time, though you’re unsure why.

As your vision begins to swim black, you think you hear him again. “You’ll be alright. We’re going to counteract the poison; you just need to hold on.”

The burning continues, your body convulsing with the heat of the venom in your blood. You can feel your whole-body tense as waves of fire rolls through. Darkness taking over your vision and your body beginning to slacken as the poison infiltrates your blood stream.

Each fiber of your body feels overloaded with fiery toxin and the loss of adrenaline. You try to open your eyes one last time, but your eyelids won’t obey your command, instead you find yourself slipping into oblivion.

----------

The first thing you notice is the quiet. Without opening your eyes, you listen but are only met with deafening silence. Continuing to lie unmoving, you take a deep breath before trying to open your eyes. Managing to finally get them open, though the effort seems unbearable, you are met with confusion as your eyes stare up at a beautifully decorative ceiling. 

Confusion tugs at your brain as you try to place this room that seems familiar, yet not. The decadence of the bedroom, even only by the ceiling you can see and the feel of the sheets on your bare skin, is something that seems familiar but not at the same time. Slowly, you let yourself move each one of your limbs, from your toes to your fingertips. 

You begin to move your arm and feel a lingering ache on your left. Bringing it up and over the covers your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight. All along your arm are spidering black veins that seem to penetrate your skin.

“Don’t worry, eventually it will recede.” Immediately your head whips to your right towards the male voice. “It will take some time since we don’t have a mender and only healers, but it shouldn’t cause you any issues.” 

Your eyes encounter the warm gaze of Drake. Never before would you have thought the view of a flier would be a welcome sight, but your life hadn’t seemed to work out the way you’d thought anyway.

“H – How lo-long have I been out?” You rasp your voice scratchy with disuse and in desperate need of water.

While you finish your statement, Drake moves to the table next to the bed and brings you a fresh glass of water. You take the cup and drink greedily, the cool liquid calming the dryness.

“It’s been a week since the venin took Zolya.” Head jerking back towards Drake, your eyes widen at the revelation.

“Wh-what happened to all of those cadets?” Your heart begins to race as you panic over your life being saved over those fliers who were trying to learn and fight for their people. 

Drake gives you a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, we were able to evacuate Cliffsbane for the most part. Unfortunately, as with every battle with the venin, we weren’t able to save everyone.”

Your eyes immediately turn down at the news of the cadets that didn’t make it through the battle. This wasn’t the first time that you felt there was an unnecessary loss of life, and although you tried to make a difference, you always felt lacking.

A warm hand covers your forearm and gives a tight squeeze as you look up into Drake’s knowing eyes.

Days later, you’re finally feeling normal enough to get dressed and move about. Staring in the mirror after a shower, you begin to trace the lines of a particularly dark vein that moves across your chest to your left arm. Although you don’t feel the fiery pain that the poison elicited immediately, the phantom fire still seems to course through your veins as you trace the line. 

“It will fade soon enough.” A sharp feminine voice rasps causing you to whip your head to the right. Fighting the surprise that wants to plaster on your face, you turn to face the two women who are entering into the room you’re staying in. 

Turning around, you watch warily as Syrena and Catriona walk towards you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company.” The saccharine dripping from your lips a stark contrast to your thoughts of the two women.

“Our Uncle seems to think we will be having Tyrrish company soon and for some reason he wants to dress you for the part of emissary.” The venomous tone Catriona adopts when telling you this information betrays her polite words.

“Dress me?” Your brows furrow at the thought. Hearing of such things happening was no surprise, however, not being part of a political family or born to royalty it was an action foreign to you. 

Syrena steps forward handing you the tunic you were about to put on. “Yes, even though he has more than enough gowns to alter in his repertoire, he wants to put you in something new.”

“Why though? What is he expecting from me?” You look back at Syrena hoping for some semblance of answers, though you’re unsure if she will provide any.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t revealed what his plan is or what he seems to be expecting.” Syrena confirms. “Though if the consistent nagging I’ve been forced to partake in the last few weapons drops is any indication, I’m sure he’s trying to exploit Riorson’s weakness for you.”

You immediately scoff and roll your eyes at the comment. “Why would he be pestering you? He doesn’t even know I’m still alive, yet alone here of all places.”

“It seems the one look he caught at your eyes has reinforced his belief that you are indeed alive. And that I am more than aware of your whereabouts, which obviously is all correct.” Syrena gives you a deadpan look.

“But who knows why it would matter. He obviously couldn’t care less if he didn’t even notice your absence.” Catriona comments and you loathe to admit to yourself that she’s right. 

Your head begins to hang as the bitterness hardens in your heart at the thought of Xaden leaving you behind without even noticing. But wasn’t that the reason you ran? Didn’t you want him to forget? Didn’t you want to forget him? Unsure where these intense feelings of insignificance and uselessness have come from, your hand grabs at your chest as the ache intensifies feeling as if the organ may leap out of your chest. You try to calm yourself, but you can feel your breaths becoming shallow pants and the control it takes to hold in your sobs is immense.

“Cat!” You hear Syrena’s sharp tone in the background, though it seems like its underwater. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t even have her powers to shut you out.”

Words registering, you try to slam your shields up, but you can’t get past the ache and intense feelings of inconsequence.

“If she wants to be with Riorson, she’s going to have to be stronger than that.” Catriona spits back at Syrena. You try to drown the ache, but it isn’t until you hear the door slam that there seems to be a break in the intensity of the feelings.

Finally, you hear a set of footsteps approaching and look to the side to see Syrena looking at you with concern. 

“I’m sorry. I know Cat can be a piece of work sometimes, but I thought she could be more civil than that considering you saved her life at Cliffsbane.” As your breath finally begins to even out, you look to the side and chance a brow at Syrena’s words. 

“She was the last cadet you pulled out of the corridor you were in and watched you take on the venin. I thought between that and Riorson’s recent actions, she could have some compassion or at least understanding; but I see my darling sisterstill has some things to work on.” Syrena finishes as you finally have your breathing back under control.

“It’s not your fault.” You say as your breath catches again in your throat. “I know from experience how hard it can be to let somethings go.”

Syrena scoffs. “Empathy is not a quality my sister excels at, but it seems you have more than enough for the both of you. I can see why Riorson has lost any semblance of niceties now that you aren’t around.”

“I’m not sure that Xaden has a single nice bone in his body, that’s not exactly his strong suit.” You retort letting the sarcasm lace every word.

“Either way, how about you follow me, and we get you fitted for this monstrosity that I know my uncle is going to make you wear.” Syrena says while motioning you to follow her.

You try to keep your facial expressions neutral as the seamstresses begin their work, but it’s impossible. Every single emotion known to man must pass across your face because you watch as Syrena must hide her sniggers behind her hands at your antics.

“Clearly this isn’t something you’re used to.” Syrena muses as you stare down at the seamstress that is measuring from your waist to the floor.

“I would think that is obvious.” You retort as you move your arms as to not knock into one of the seamstresses scurrying around you.

“Well, you’ll get used to it.” That comment causes you to snap your gaze to the secondary heir to the Poromish throne. 

“I beg to differ. Besides, I don’t see why someone that’s fighting in a war will need a fancy gown again.” As the seamstresses finally step away from you, a deep calming breath and drop your arms as you’ve been wanting to do for the last half hour.

“You do know that Riorson is the rightful Duke of Aretia, correct?” Syrena continues as if you haven’t spoken. “When all is said and done, I’m sure he’ll regain the title, if not more. You’ll most likely be expected to dress the part next to him.”

Tripping over your feet, you barely catch yourself before you hit the ground. “What the fuck are you talking about Syrena?” You demand as your emotions begin to rise, clogging your throat with both fear and hope.

“I’m sure you’ll see.” Her cryptic response does nothing to quell the nauseous feeling that has now settled in your stomach. 

About a week later, you find yourself walking back to your room in the palace at Cordyn after your training session for the day. As you shuffle in, the armoire that houses your clothes that must be worn to formal events sits open. Walking towards the door, your eyes immediately fly wide.

Hanging in the open door is an emerald dress that is something you thought you’d only see in your dreams. The gown is made of layers of gauzy fabric with jewels encrusted over the entire bodice with twirling vines of ivy. You stare at the skirt, and you can’t help but wonder if the sheer layers will cover any part of your body. Vines run up and down the bodice with a few hanging into the layers of the skirt and fabric drapes from the bodice into a full skirt. As your eyes continue to trace the dress, you notice the sleeves that will hang off your shoulders and will at least cover some of the black veins that still spider on your arm.

Every ounce of the dress looks as if it is fit for a queen, not a mere soldier barely scrimping by. 

“I believe you’ll look absolutely stunning in that my dear.” The oily rasp of the voice behind you causes you to step back. You turn and stare back into the eyes of Viscount Tecarus.

“If my intel is correct, I believe we will be having a few guests join us this evening.” Tecarus continues coming to step in front of you. “And I’ve come here to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“I see.” You say but your trepidation is clear, even to your own ears. “And what exactly is that?”

“You will be escorted to dinner with Drake; however, you will not make your appearance known until after everyone has joined. There will be a guard to inform Drake of when to enter. You will keep to your chamber between now and then.” There is no denying the calculation that the Viscount has done.

“Once there, you will get the rest of your instructions. I’m unsure of how much Riorson knows about your whereabouts exactly, but from what we’ve pieced together he knows you’re in Poromiel. However, he has made no indication that he knows you’re here.”

“I’m not sure what exactly you think I can do for you with him. As you remember, I was left behind in Resson and from what I can tell, that was that. No one has tried to find me.” You try to explain and keep your voice level. 

As the conversation continues, it takes everything for you not to bolt from the fortress and not look back. Coming face to face with Xaden again is the last thing you want to do. 

“Yes, that may be what you think, but my dear, there are many things you don’t know.” With that, the Viscount walks out of your room but not before giving you a smile that tells you this evening isn’t going to be any fun. 

A few hours later, two ladies’ maids have come to take care of your hair, makeup, and dress you for the evening. Standing fully dressed and looking in the mirror, you are shocked at the reflection that stares back at you. 

The maids have curled your hair and left it half up and down, braids are intricately woven in and out at the top with golden chains woven throughout. Your eyes pop after having been lined with charcoal and the suppleness of your lips are highlighted the dark red of a ripe raspberry. Though the one thing that you can’t stop staring at is the dress that you now don. The emerald color complements your skin immaculately and falls to accentuate every curve of your body.  You’ve never seen yourself look so beautiful, regal even. 

“What my uncle lacks in battle strategy, he certainly makes up for in style.” Drake’s voice drips like honey behind you and you turn quirking your eyebrow. “You look absolutely beautiful, ever the regal queen.”

Even with the compliment, you give him a deadpanned look. “I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to survive this night alive.” He quips, chuckling slightly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your irritation barely contained.

“Riorson might just have my head for escorting you.” Drake continues with his jibes. “Especially when everyone’s eyes will be on you.”

“Ha. Ha.” You let the sarcasm drip from your lips like molasses. 

“Seriously though, I’ve already seen the riders that are joining us, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so tightly wound.”

“Him who?” The look Drake gives you makes it obvious that he knows you’re being ridiculous. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, you let yourself slouch feeling defeated even though your night hasn’t even begun.

Looking you over, Drake goes to the dressing table in your room and picks up the necklace that Ceridwen had gifted you. “I need you to remember to wear this whenever you’re around Catriona from now on, do you understand?” The serious look in his eyes causes you not to question his decree and just nod your head in confirmation.

A knock on your door breaks the silence and your heart begins to speed. Breathing has turned into a chore, and you’ve begun pacing back and forth, eyes trained down at the floor and shaking your hands as if trying to dispel the feelings you’re feeling. 

“Hey.” The sternness of the voice the only thing breaking through your reeling thoughts. 

“I know this is going to be a long evening, but I need you to breathe.” Drake soothes taking your hand in his and guiding you to slow your breathing. “Never forget that you don’t have to leave, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If anything, you should go down there with your head held high and show Riorson the strong and beautiful woman he let disappear.”

It’s all you can do to focus on your breathing and shake your head. Drake begins to walk towards the door and holds out his arm for you to take. Letting yourself move forward slowly and continuing to take deep breaths, you try to remind yourself that whatever happens this evening doesn’t matter. Soon enough Xaden will be on his way home and you’ll be free to throw yourself into the war like you’ve been wanting to, preferably as far away from him as possible. 

Letting your mind wander, you take in the scenery of the palace as you walk. Looking to your left, you watch the shimmering coastline that seems to sparkle with the night sky, though you can feel the heaviness that is settling in the air around you forecasting the coming rain. Watching the waves crash calms your racing thoughts as you continue to walk forward on Drake’s arm.

Far too soon, you stare at a familiar set of doors and your heart has now leapt into your throat. Before the guards open the doors, Drake turns to look at you, his expression serious.

“Before we go in there, I just want to say I’m sorry for whatever happens tonight. It’s important to me that you know I had no part in whatever plan my uncle intends to carry out tonight and I tried my damnedest to keep you as far away from this as possible.” The concern in his eyes shines as he finishes talking. You have no idea what to reply, so you just give his arm a squeeze back in acknowledgement before the doors are opening. 

Turning to face forward, you take a deep, shaking breath as Drake continues to guide you forward and down the stairs. Your free hand is now balled into a fist so tight, you’re unsure if you are drawing blood or not. Descending, you can’t help but feel the weight of the stares of all the people gathered at the palace. Searching left and right, you try your hardest not to encounter the onyx eyes that you haven’t seen in months, the anxiety eating at your very being. 

Drake’s warm hand falls over yours and squeezes bringing your gaze back to his, the gesture grounds you as you continue to walk forward. The small comforting smile that he offers you helping to bring your breathing back under control and alleviate a tinge of the anxiety.

A voice breaks your gaze from Drake’s as you hear the words uttered from further in front of you. “Ah, here’s the other guest that we’ve been waiting on.”

Whirling your head towards the sound of Tecarus’ voice, the breath completely leaves your lungs. In front of you is the last person you ever wanted to see again, but you can’t tear your eyes away. 

Standing before you in a tunic tailored to every line of his body is Xaden Riorson. His hair perfectly windswept and strong features on display for all to see. Though the thing you notice most is the taught lines of his body and the way his eyes look sunken and more tired than you’ve ever seen them as he stands in front of you. The rest of the room seems to fall away as you stare back at each other, him in disbelief and you in resignation.

A fire begins burning in your chest, one you didn’t expect. Anger that you hadn’t realized you were holding onto starts to blaze as you watch Xaden. Your nostrils flare in irritation as your eyes finally move to the woman standing next to him. 

Sorrengail. 

The sneer on your lips comes unbidden, though you don’t let your eyes linger on her before looking to the two others standing next to her. Gaze going between the three, the realization hits you as you notice the similarities in their features, her siblings.

Closing your eyes and taking a calming breath, you open your eyes and bring them to Tecarus, ignoring the way Xaden fidgets as if he is barely keeping himself in place. 

“I believe now is the time to discuss the business we have here.” The male Sorrengail sibling says, obviously trying to break the tension.

You keep your eyes trained on Tecarus, but it’s impossible not to notice the way that Violet tries to get Xaden to step back, as you notice he can’t stop himself from taking steps forward. You roll your eyes at the gesture, of course she would be the one to control him.

A chill crawling up your leg causes you to shiver and look down. Unsurprisingly, shadows swirl at your feet, and you know if you parted your skirt, you would find them shifting around your legs. 

Getting pulled back slightly causes you to look down and realize the tight grip that you had on Drake’s arm as he still held your arm in his. You give him an apologetic look, but it doesn’t last when a black tendril of shadow tugs at your arm as if to pull it from Drake’s grip. 

Pivoting, you send a sharp look to Xaden, a silent command to drop his shadows. However, he doesn’t see it as he is only glaring at your hand that is still holding Drake’s arm and then back at the man himself.

“Now that all our guests have arrived, Riorson, we can continue our discussions for the luminary.” Tecarus says as if he is doing something magnanimous, causing your eyes to roll. 

Violet goes to step up and begins to raise her hands to wield, but she is quickly cut off. “No, no, my dear. I want you to wield from the beautiful arena below. In fact, I have a few things to go through before we start.”

“You,” Tecarus says while pointing to Violet. “Will head down to the arena floor and I have a target I want you to hit with your lightning. If you’re interested in bringing anyone with you, you may - except him.”

Xaden goes to step forward, but for some reason you don’t understand, he seems torn. “Don’t worry Riorson, you won’t need to move from where you are. In fact, things will deteriorate if you do.”

Your brows furrow, but soon enough you have stopped paying attention when you’re grabbed by two guards. As your head swivels left and right trying to understand, you see the murderous look that is plastered on Xaden’s face and the undeniable anger on Drake’s.

“Tsk. Tsk. Don’t move any further if you want that luminary Riorson.” Xaden’s footsteps immediately falter, but his eyes turn to anguish. 

“Fuck the luminary.” Xaden growls as he goes to take another step towards you, but he stops in his tracks when you give him a look telling him ‘No’.

“You, dear Xaden, have one task.” Tecarus looks to you, a disturbing gleam in his eye. “You cannot move from this balcony. If you dare take one step towards the arena, our dearest Y/N will fall to the arena floor.”

As Tecarus finishes, the guards, that grabbed you, push you into a golden cage. You rattle the door you were thrown in, even though you saw it locked behind you. You can’t hide the betrayal on your face and at this point you’re unsure if there is anyone you can trust. 

“That’s what you wanted. To dress me up like a beautiful bird that lives her life in a gilded cage. To dangle me for what? To prove that I don’t matter to any of them? That I don’t matter to him?” The rage building in your heart at the betrayal you’re feeling, an overwhelming monster threatening to tear the entire palace down. 

“And what can I assume you will do if I don’t follow your instructions?” Xaden growls out, the blazing hot fury causing his voice to drop low. 

“You see that’s where the fun begins.” The giddy elation in Tecarus’s voice causes your glare at the disgusting man to intensify. “We get to see who is really more important to you and you get to see what happens when you don’t follow my commands.”

You look down at the arena floor where Violet now stands with her siblings. “Now remember, the minute you make a move towards the arena, the cage opens, and you are responsible for any consequences.” The danger dripping from Tecarus lets you know that he has no intention of letting Xaden get through this unscathed and is taking immense amounts of pleasure from his plan.

Taking time to look at the cage you find yourself in, you notice the latch that you are sitting on and trace the chain that falls from the bottom to a guard standing close to you. A jerk of the cage has you jostling from side to side as the cage begins to move. 

“This is ridiculous uncle. Bring her down right now.” Drake’s voice breaks from the din of whispers that have only gotten louder since your placement in the gilded cage. 

Eyes darting from side to side, you realize that you are now not only caged, but dangling above an arena that is soon going to be covered in lightning. 

“Oh Amari.” The words woosh from your lungs as the certainty of your imminent demise begins to settle in your bones.  

The certainty solidifies as you watch guards bring a chest into the middle of the arena. Watching wearily, your eyes bulge when you watch a venin tumble from the chest. Your gaze swings back to the balcony and watch a satisfied smirk plaster on Tecarus’s face. A movement to the left has you meeting Drake’s gaze, he makes a motion towards the bodice of your dress, and you look down. Unsure exactly how or when, you find yourself in possession of one of the alloyed daggers that you’ve killed the previous venin with. It’s then you know what you must do.

In lieu of Xaden losing his life because of Violet’s death, you make the decision that you’ve been dreading. Standing in the cage and picking up your foot, you drive it down as hard as possible, the heel cracking through the latch on the bottom. 

“Y/N!” A male voice roars your name, but you don’t look to see who it is.

The sensation of falling hits you immediately, but using everything you’d learned at Basgiath, you soften your blow to the ground just the tiniest bit in order to keep from breaking anything. You roll to your feet, and curse the ridiculous dress that you find yourself tangled in. 

Although you know your exit and landing wasn’t that quiet, the venin hasn’t seemed to notice your presence. Your eyes catch Violet’s as you begin to move forward, silently conveying your command for her to keep him talking. Unsheathing the dagger that was held at your ribs, you slowly make your way towards the creature trying to keep your steps measured and slow.

The venin begins to crouch to the ground, and you know you don’t have much time.

“Y/N! NO!” The same male voice repeats, though now there is a hint of absolute desperation and panic.

Running as swiftly as you can in the outrageous skirt of the dress, you bring the dagger up in preparation to strike. Right before you make your move, the venin turns his hand jutting out and grabbing you by the neck his read eyes bulging. 

“Quite the prizes I’ve been led to. The sage will reward me handsomely for bringing both the lightning wielder and the pained one.” He hisses, spittle hitting your face. For a monstrous creature that has been denied the ability to channel for so long, it strikes you how powerful he is still, even in a weakened state. 

“I may be full of pain, but I’ll never meet your master.” You hiss breathlessly as you bring the dagger to slash the venin’s arm. Hissing in pain, the venin drops you to the ground and you cough trying to get breath back into your body.

Taking one deep drag of air, you jolt up and slam the blade of the alloyed dagger into the venin’s chest. A triumphant smile crosses your mouth, but it is short lived when you see the venin raise a dagger that you were unaware he possessed. You take two steps back before the venin slashes the blade across your chest.

“Y/N!” Violet screams, as the awaiting storm finally breaks and soaks everything. As you both drop to the ground, the bright red of the venin’s eyes turns to a dull ruby and his skin begins to grey. Landing fully on the ground, the breath is zipped from your lungs and your hand instinctively goes up to cover the slash across your chest. 

The warm and viscous blood flowing from the wound coats all your fingers as you bring them up to your face to see, the metallic smell wafting to you through the raindrops. 

“Brennan, mend her!” Violet’s voice seems further away than it was before. 

Closing your eyes, you let yourself focus on the feeling of the rain falling down your face instead of focusing on the pain of your injury. Soon enough you drift off, a sense of contentment washing over you. You may not have saved yourself, but you saved those who can better save the continent.

“Y/N, please open your eyes. Please.” A familiar male voice says in a desperate, coaxing tone, though you can’t bring yourself to obey the command. You feel a large, calloused hand stroke your cheek and then card through your hair, finally coming down to lace with your fingers.

“She’ll be fine Xaden. Brennan mended her. You couldn’t ask for her to have been seen to sooner than that.” A female voice tries to coax who you’ve realized is now Xaden.

“You don’t know that.” You can hear the frustration in his tone back at the female. “She almost killed herself trying to save you.”

Reality slams back and you now know that you won’t be opening your eyes for the two people who have haunted you for months. The last thing you need to see is the man you love with the woman that caused you to be forgotten. 

“We need to go anyway. Tecarus is expecting all of us for negotiations.” Violet tries to reason with him.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Each word drips out of his mouth with vicious certainty. A knock on a door seems to halt their conversation.

“Your presence is required for our negotiations I’m afraid.” Your emotions settle as you take note of Drake’s voice breaking the conversation.

“You can tell your fucking uncle he should be glad I didn’t send him to meet Malek today for the stunts he pulled, and I’ll come when Y/N is awake.” Xaden replies in a menacing growl, his fingers tightening on yours as if afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Look Riorson, you may not believe me, but I agree with you. Everything that happened tonight is despicable.” Drake begins catching you off guard. “But you shouldn’t spit in the direction of Y/N’s sacrifice that she made tonight by not participating in negotiations.”

“If it would be any consolation, I can stay with her until negotiations are done. If for some reason she wakes between now and then, I’ll have someone fetch you immediately. However, in hopes to move things along, we all need this discussion about the luminary to be decided upon.” Drake explains with as much diplomacy as possible.

Silence greets your ears for a few minutes before anyone speaks. 

Drake must’ve given Xaden the confirmation he wanted as a minute later you feel the hand wrapped around yours squeeze tightly and a cool feeling whisps around your wrist, wrapping in tightly.

“Fine. But I’m not leaving her completely. You’ll have to deal with a few shadows if you want me to participate in this bullshit.” Xaden says plainly, though his tone begins to darken at the end. “And you better keep your damn hands to your fucking self Cordella.”

You expect to hear the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead the bed dips and you feel warm breath ghost across your face.

“Y/N, Love, I need you to wake up for me. I promise you I’m not leaving this damned place without you awake and Malek will take me before I fly out of Cordyn without you. Please, my Blaze. Please wake up.” Xaden whispers in your ear before you feel him leave a lingering kiss on your temple. 

The bed shifts again and you hold your breath until you hear the door click shut.

“You aren’t very subtle you know. I can tell you’re awake.” The humor in Drake’s voice is dry. 

Your eyes flutter open and look directly at him. The eye roll and slight shake of your head doesn’t stop the way your mouth ticks up at the corner. 

“What can I say? I was just waiting to have you all to myself.” You tease but the smile doesn’t last as you wince in pain trying to sit yourself up. 

Looking down to the shadow at your wrist, you lift it up with a pointed look. “Did you really need to allow this?”

Drake’s laugh is cynical. “Allow? You may have heard the words Riorson just said but you haven’t been awake for the last 3 hours. If you’d seen what I have, you wouldn’t be pushing too many of his buttons.”

“I highly doubt he enjoyed watching his dear Violet’s life endangered, but I took care of it.” The flat tone of your voice giving away the hurt. 

Swinging your feet to the edge of the bed, you look down to see someone has changed you into a silk sleeping gown. Your hand then goes up as your eyes catch on the new raw scar that slashes across the left side of your chest. Trying to comprehend, you just can’t understand how you’ve evaded Malek’s grip once again. 

“Violet?” Drake chimes in as he walks closer to your side. “Is your whole existence now dependent on avoiding the fact that the man that just left this room is irrevocably in love with you?”

“Don’t.” Your voice drops to a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to judge what I think. You haven’t been around for the last year and a half, or do you not remember that I fucking ran away from that man and my dragon.”

Your voice is gaining in its fire, and you can feel your body begin heating with the anger coursing through every nerve. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Drake hesitantly begins sounding suitably chastised. “I understand that with whatever happened between the two of you, he has a lot to explain and atone for, but did you not see how sunken in his eyes are?”

You drop your head down and let your anger fester. There is no way you’re going to let anyone make you feel bad for leaving, even though there was no mistaking the sallow color to Xaden’s eyes and deep purple smudges below them. 

“Will you at least let me tell you what happened on the balcony? At least let me give you some information before he inevitably comes back.” You give a curt nod, but only because you know that there isn’t any way you can completely evade Xaden, not now. 

“Besides, someone needs to chide you for being as reckless as you were.” Your head jerks up and the look Drake gives you shows he was vastly unimpressed with your performance. “Did you really need to try and kill both me and your shadow wielding, hot head by dropping yourself from that cage?”

You give him a dead-panned look. “What’s the difference? Your uncle dearest wanted to play games, so I bent the rules.”

With a roll of his eyes, Drake goes on to relay the chaos that you were completely unaware of, obviously too engrossed in dispatching a venin and then almost meeting Malek for the second time in just a few weeks.

 The male voice you heard shouting your name was apparently Xaden, both he and Drake, flew to the arenas edge once you started falling. Though Xaden’s focus didn’t stay long on the battle once you killed the venin and were mended, apparently turning to let his wrath at the situation out on the Viscount.

Drake imparts the threats Xaden carried out, wrapping his shadows around Tecarus’s neck and slowly constricting, and the bedlam that followed. He confirms you were mended by Brennan, as Violet had already stated, and then Brennan had carried you up the steps of the arena. 

Somehow Violet had broken through the spell of anger that Xaden was in, and he had immediately turned towards the Sorrengails. Seeing your limp form in Brennan’s arms, Drake confirmed he had taken you from him and stalked off not bothering to say anything to anyone.

“I’m unsure if I’ve ever seen the burning hatred in someone’s eyes shine as brightly as Riorson’s did tonight. I’m unsure of exactly what control he used, but if he had any less, he may have taken out the entirety of the line of succession of Poromiel.” Your head turns cocking an eyebrow at Drake’s words. 

“How exactly did I end up here? And where exactly is here? This isn’t the room I normally stay in.” You ask as you finally look around the room. 

“No, this isn’t your room. This is Riorson’s room from when he used to make regular visits to Cordyn.” Drake confirms.

“You mean when he was engaged to your cousin?” You snipe back, the bitter taste in your mouth causing you to scowl.

“Not engaged. Betrothed. Not something I chose.” Xaden’s voice causes you to jump and your head to turn swiftly towards the door that has just opened. 

The minute his eyes meet yours, the way they soften and swirl with a plethora of emotions, has your heart breaking in your chest. Your head drops down and you stand, immediately trying to leave the room. 

“No.” The word leaves his mouth breathlessly and he’s crossing the room quickly stopping you from going anywhere. “Please Blaze – please stay.”

Of all the ways you’ve heard Xaden talk, in the years knowing and loving him, you had never heard his voice so broken. 

“Why?” The word passes your lips before you can stop it, but now that it has you know there is no way to take it back. 

Pulling back from Xaden’s grip, you look up into the eyes you had been avoiding. A sigh leaves your mouth, though you can feel your chest tighten, as you see the anguish and sorrow clearly on his face. The man in front of you has never looked so lost, broken, and utterly defeated.

“Do you know how long I was waiting for you to sound so desperate for me in the last year?  To not feel like you had forgotten about my existence? Did you even realize the way you left me behind?” The questions rush from your lips in a torrent, and you have to bite down on your lips to avoid more from spilling.

Have you broken Xaden Riorson?

Is the only thought you manage to have as you watch the tears slip down his cheeks.

Your head is spinning with the emotion that is ripping from the man in front of you. As much as your brain holds onto the anger that had settled in you, your heart is shattering watching him crumble before your eyes. Your hand comes to your chest as your throat begins to close trying to hold back your own tears. 

Your vision begins to swim with tears as suddenly Xaden moves. He crashes to his knees as he grabs you by the waist crushing you to him so tightly you know there will be bruises there tomorrow, though you don’t focus on that when you hear the sob tear from his throat.

 Standing there frozen in place, your emotions war within you on whether to push him away or try to comfort him. In the end your heart wins out and you rake your hand through his hair. The gesture causes his breath to catch in his throat and his hold on you to tighten even further. 

Bringing your hand down and placing your fingers under his chin, you tilt his head up to look him in the eyes. As he does, you can’t help but trace the tears still falling from his eyes wiping them as they continue to dampen his cheeks.

“Xaden.” Your voice comes out as a calming whisper. “You need to breathe for me, alright?”

He gives a short nod as he tries to calm his breathing while still being plastered to you. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his cheeks, keeping a steady rhythm to help soothe him. 

As his breathing begins to level, he takes both of your hands in his and kisses your palms slowly rising to his feet. 

Not letting go of your hands, he pulls you to the bed and sits you down next to him. You try to pull your hands away, acutely aware that Violet could walk in at any second, but he tightens his grip further. 

“Y- you d-don’t know h-how long I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again.” The confession comes out in a stuttered whisper as Xaden continues to pull your hands forward trying to tug you closer and calm his emotions. 

You can’t help the incredulous look you give him. After everything that had happened over the last year, you never believed that Xaden would even care about seeing you again.

“Forgive the brashness Xaden, but I have a hard time believing that with everything that happened at the end of our relationsh-.” As you finish, Xaden doesn’t try to hide the way his breath hitches as you draw a line in the sand of your relationship, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“Don’t.” The word comes out with such force you immediately rear back a bit. “That wasn’t the end. This isn’t either.” He says firmly brooking no argument. 

As he finishes, your head cocks to the side and the look you give him is filled with resignation. “I don’t think you’re allowed to make that call alone. Besides, I’m sure Violet wouldn’t want to hear that.”

At the mention of the silver-haired girl, Xaden picks up his hand and grabs your face with deliberate force, directing you too look candidly into his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what Violet wants. My relationship is none of her fucking business.”

You scoff and try to pull your face away. “I believe it is her business if she’s part of that relationship.”

A frustrated growl slips from his lips as he gets a better grasp on your face. “I’m. Not. With. Violet.” Each word is punctuated through grit teeth.

“More fool me then. Left behind for someone you aren’t even with.” You can feel yourself getting nasty, the attitude and anger lying dormant rising to the surface.

“I’m sorry.” Between the words and the way Xaden is looking at you, it’s as if a cold bucket of water has been poured on you and doused the fire that had begun to race through your veins.

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, furrowing your brows because you’ve never heard Xaden say those words.

Xaden takes a deep breath, and confusion becomes shock as he grabs you and pulls you on his lap, his forehead resting on the side of your head as his hands wrap tightly around your waist. “I’m. so. fucking. sorry.” The words leave his mouth punctuated slowly as if to convey their importance. 

He raises his head, and you turn to look him in the eyes. “There aren’t enough words in this world for me to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I’ll apologize to you every damn day for the rest of our lives, but I need you with me.”

After being hurt so thoroughly by this man, you find yourself unable to stop throwing words in his face. “I’m certain that the last year has proven quite the opposite.”

Your words clearly strike a nerve when he flinches, though the movement doesn’t last long. 

“I deserve every ounce of your ire. All the pain you’ve felt tenfold.” He says simply. “And I will gladly accept every ounce of venom you can toss my way. Use daggers if you want to. Make me bleed. But please, come with me.”

“I can’t.” The words are out of your mouth in an instant. There is no way you’re just going to fold to the man in front of you. “Pretty words aren’t going to fix this.”

The look of anguish on Xaden’s face makes your gut twist and your chest feel too tight. 

“They aren’t just pretty words.” The pleading and anguish in his voice is on full display. 

“Your actions for the last year spoke louder than all the words you’ve ever told me. No matter how much I want to believe them.” An emotion flashes in Xaden’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“Gods Xaden, we’re even having this discussion in a place that you’d been aiding for years, but did I know anything about it. No!” Your voice begins to rise as you gesture around the room. “You’ve been aiding Poromiel, been betrothed to an heir to the throne, and when things blew up in Resson did you even notice my reaction? Or was calming the lightning wielder down just that more important?”

“You think I don’t know how much I’ve fucked up? I’ll spend from now until I meet Malek showing you that needing you isn’t just pretty words. That all the things you didn’t know were not because I didn’t want to tell you, but because I wanted to keep you protected.” The words become harsh as Xaden’s conviction begins to solidify. “You are as vital to me as the fucking air that I breathe, and I haven’t taken a full breath since I realized you were gone. I know I fucked up for the last year. Hell, probably even longer than that, but nothing in this world is more vital to me than you.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between Xaden’s eyes looking for lies, but it hits you suddenly he looked at you the same way for years not giving away any of his secrets.

“I want to believe you. Really, I do.” You start. “But this time you’re going to have to show me, before we are anything again – if we even can be.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, but you have to come with me back to Aretia. I want to take you home. To my home and I want to make it yours.” Xaden has slowly walked back towards you leaving little space in between, the scent that you always associated with comfort, mint, leather and the essence of him assaults your nostrils and it takes everything you have to not bury your face in his chest.

“I’ll give you this.” You begin taking a few steps back out of his orbit. “You’ll have the opportunity to show me that what you’re saying is the truth, but I’m not coming with you to Aretia.”

His arm shoots out trying to drag you back to him, but you put up a hand to stop him. “No. If you want any chance at all, you’ll respect my decision.” 

Turning around one last time before exiting his room you look up at the man that brings you both comfort and tears. 

“I’ll always love you, Xaden.” Your voice is quiet as you leave him with parting words, sadness coloring the lines of your face. “But this time you’re going to have to be the one fighting, because I refuse to be forgotten again.”

With that, you let the door fall closed behind you but not before you see the absolute look of desperation on Xaden’s face. Walking away a few paces, you can’t help but overhear the shout of agony from the room you just left as you let the tears flow down your cheeks.

“Come on.” A gentle voice says as you continue down the corridor. Your head turns to the voice as a blanket is thrown over your shoulders and the now familiar warmth of Drake settles over your shoulders. “Let’s get you back to your room for some rest.”

Days later after the delegation from Aretia has left, you are walking in the garden trying to clear your mind from the reeling it’s been doing since Xaden stepped back into your life. As you walk, you let your hand trace over the beautiful roses that line the path, taking in the overabundance of colors that strike against the backdrop of the white palace. 

You close your eyes trying to absorb the smell of the roses and calm your racing mind, but the peace doesn’t last long. A shriek comes from inside the palace causing your head to jerk in the direction and your eyes fly wide. 

Coming in at a rate too fast to seem friendly is a dragon on a collision course with the palace. On your left and right you watch as gryphons launch in the air. You stare with wide eyes, you breath stuck in your throat, as the gryphons descend towards the incoming threat. 

Soon enough though the gryphons turn and come towards the palace as well in the formation of an escort. Your brow furrows as you wonder who exactly has returned to Cordyn so soon. 

‘No one, Loyal One. I’m here for you.’ A crisp female voice races through your mind. 

Your eyes flare as you look towards the incoming dragon, familiarity hitting you like a stone as you watch the coppery sheen of your brown swordtail coming closer and closer.

‘Dhìoch. H-how?’ You don’t need to finish the sentence of how she knew you were here.

‘Sgaeyl. You didn’t think the Brooding One was going to let you be alone with the enemy, did you?’ You mentally curse Xaden and his inability to leave well-enough alone.

‘There’s plenty he doesn’t know.’ You snark, although your mind begins to race as you realize your dragon just might burn you to the ground for your actions.

‘I see that, Loyal One. You have been busy these past months, even without any powers. I knew I was right in my choice, although many have questioned me since your abrupt departure.’ There’s no mistaking the anger in Dhìoch’s eyes as she lands in the garden, talons digging up the gently manicured bushes you were just admiring.

‘I’m sorry Dhìoch, but I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I figured you just severed our bond and found a more worthy rider.’ Even your mental voice becomes small, your own insecurities shining through.

‘You do not apologize.’ Dhìoch says surprising you. ‘Although you were reckless and abrupt, I understand why you did what you did.’

‘However, if you ever think you can leave me again, I will burn you and we will burn together.’ There’s no evading the scathing look from the beautiful, bronzed creature in front of you and there is no way you are going to challenge her threat.

‘I understand Dhìoch and I won’t allow myself to become that forgotten girl again.’ You confirm and Dhìoch sends an acknowledging hum through the bond.

With Dhìoch back at your side, you spend days working on repairing your shields and practicing your signet. It doesn’t take long as everything moves through you like a stream that had been denied water, the feeling of being whole again finding its way to you.

Syrena and Drake spend time training with you when they are in Cordyn and thankfully let you know whenever there will be a new drop of daggers. Between trying to avoid Catriona before she left for Aretia and then trying to avoid Xaden, you find yourself always playing a game of hide and seek. 

Unfortunately, when you are playing against a shadow wielder, you luck is more often than not, terrible.

“Blaze.” Your eyes immediately roll as you continue walking back to the training fields itching to get away from him. But the man of shadows will have none of it. A cool whisp wraps around your wrist and tugs causing your steps to tumble slightly backwards and into the chest of the man basically running you down. 

“Will you stop calling me that.” Your voice rasps in irritation at the man now holding you by your waist against his chest.

Before you can so much as turn, he buries his face in the side of your neck and his arms slither all the way around your frame before you hear a breathy response. “No.”

“Why?” You ask tersely as you try to pry yourself free.

“Because there is no alternative I will accept, then you burning with me. You’ve always been an all-consuming flame, whether passion or hatred and I’ll never let your blazing glory go.” Xaden says, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.

Huffing, you are finally able to tear yourself from his grip. “Is there something you needed? Or are you just here to torment me?”

You don’t miss the way he flinches at your scathing tone, but you’re in no mood. 

“I’m making another drop.” He says simply.

“Aren’t there other people in this group of yours that could do such a menial task?” You ask as your hand gestures about showing your aggravation.

“Of course there is. This man just can’t help himself from being subjected to your company.” Drake interjects as he walks next to the both of you earning a glare from Xaden and an eye roll from you.

“Well let me not subject you to anything, I was just on my way out.” 

“Wait.” Xaden stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What? Sgaeyl didn’t give you your report from Dhìoch?” His eyes flaring the only indication that he knows what you mean.

“Exactly. Don’t think I don’t know why my dragon suddenly knew where I was.” You say pointedly. “I’m going on patrol, Drake, I’ll be back later.”

“I’ll come with you.” Xaden says walking to your side.

You whir on him and a sneer leaves your lips. “You, sir, are not enrolled in service to the Poromish, so I don’t think you will.”

“No, I’m not, but I wasn’t asking your permission either.” Xaden steps into your space and you immediately let go a growl and stomp away in the direction of your dragon.

As you make it to the flight field of the palace you can’t stop yourself as you turn. 

“What are you trying to accomplish?” You challenge.

Xaden huffs his own frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m trying to prove to you that you are my fucking world. But for some reason, you won’t give me the time of day.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips. “I won’t give you the time of day. That’s rich coming from you.”

Xaden finally realizes exactly what he said and immediately turns sheepish. You just roll your eyes at the brooding idiot in front of you.

“Let’s go if you’re coming.” The exasperation in your voice is high as you acquiesce to Xaden. His eyes immediately light up and he pulls you to him placing a lingering kiss to your hair. A breathless ‘thank you’ leave his lips before he turns and seamlessly mounts Sgaeyl. 

You shake your head at the last few minutes and immediately mount Dhìoch for your patrol.

This process now seems to repeat every time Xaden makes a weapons drop to Cordyn. Though you get a reprieve for a week at a time when he is clearly stationed at an outpost. 

Walking into a strategy meeting, your brows furrow as you look at the serious looks on the faces of Syrena and Drake. Looking between the two, you know whatever they are discussing isn’t going to be good news.

“Some intel we have seems to point to them heading to Pavis for some reason.” Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of the town you spent weeks in after Resson.

“We are spread thin though, we can only spare one or two fliers to station there.” Drake says not taking his eyes off the map.

“Send me.” There’s no hesitation in your voice as all three heads turn your way. “I’ll be reinforcements. Besides, the only thing going on here seems to be wyvern patrols.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that? We won’t have much back up for you.” Drake questions as he studies you.

“I’m sure. I owe it to the people of the town that took me in without question.” The finality of your voice must convey your seriousness.

“Alright. Though you may need to go alone at first before we can split a squad.” Syrena says as if that would change your mind.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll go start packing.” Immediately rising, you walk briskly towards the bedroom that you’ve called home the last two months.

“Are you trying to avoid a certain shadow wielder’s drop tomorrow?” Drake says as he leans in the door frame. A huff leaves you as you shake your head at his question. 

“No, actually. This has nothing to do with him. I owe Red and Ceridwen more than they’ll ever realize.” You stop packing to look back at Drake. The thought of seeing the people who became surrogate parents spurring your rush. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they are safe.”

Drake gives you a knowing smile while pushing off the door. “I know you’ll take care of them the best way you can.”

As he turns, he throws over his shoulder, “though I don’t know how we’ll survive when your incendiary loverboy finds out you aren’t here.”

The comment causes you to burst out in a fit of laughter before replying. “Oh, I have faith that you can figure it out.”

Drake waves you off as he continues down the hallway and you go back to packing.

A few hours later you find yourself taking a deep breath and enjoying the freedom of flying, while trying to stop from thinking about what you may be walking into. As Dhìoch begins her descent, you cannot help the beaming smile that lights your face seeing the tavern in the distance.

‘Do you think you’d be willing to meet the people who took me in?’ Hesitently asking Dhìoch down the bond.

‘I’d be willing to show my appreciation to the people who looked after you.’ Dhìoch hums in response and your smile grows a little wider.

Dhìoch comes to a stop not far from the front of the inn and you dismount quickly hoping to alert the owners inside without drawing too much ire from the rest of the residents. As you step into the tavern, the smell of roasting meats and stale alcohol hit your nostrils and your nose scrunches in memory.

Noting the lack of either of the people you are looking for, you knock on the bar and call out in a harsh voice. “Can’t anyone get some service around here.”

The heavy thump of a cup hitting a table makes you smirk as you watch Red come from the back, a look of irritation on his face. Though the look doesn’t last long as the minute he recognizes you he smiles widely almost as if welcoming hope his daughter. The warmth that settles in your chest has you smiling right back to him. 

“Ceridwen.” He calls to the kitchen. “Come and see what the gryphon dragged in.”

“What are you talking ab-“Ceridwen’s words are cut off as she sees you standing at the bar. “Oh, my dear, I’m so happy to see you.”

It takes less than ten seconds to be swept up into Ceridwen’s hug as you hear Red’s warm laugh behind you. You haven’t smiled so much in the last few months, let alone the last year. 

Your heart continues to warm hours later as you sit at a table in the tavern deep in conversation with the two.

“If I would’ve known that introducing you to Drake would put you in so much danger, I would’ve contacted someone else.” Red grumbles next to you. 

“You can’t blame it all on Drake, I did ask and require him to take me.” Your reassurance does nothing to quell Red’s thoughts on this issue if his huff is anything to go by.

“So how long will you be here?” Ceridwen asks though you can see the worry in her eyes.

“Hopefully not long, and if we are lucky, the intel that was given is false.” You say as you smile, but this time it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Either way,” Red says, clapping you on his back as he begins to walk towards his chambers. “We’ll sleep better at night knowing that you and your dragon will be here watching out for us.”

You squeeze Ceridwen’s hand and send them both a small smile as you begin to turn and walk to your own bed. As you sink into the mattress you can’t help but take a deep breath, relishing in the warm feeling of familiarity and comfort.

True to their words, a few days later a pair of fliers come into the tavern looking for you, relaying your orders from Drake. Though you look up in shock when the man himself walks into the tavern not long after they had finished.

“Why are you here?” You ask in obvious confusion. “Jesper and Tusarr just told me everything I needed to know as far as orders.”

“Wonderful.” He clasps his hands, and you can see the agitation rolling off him only causing your confusion to continue. “I’m glad that has been cleared up, but that isn’t why I’m here. Unfortunately, I’m here on a personal matter regarding you.”

You quirk an eyebrow in invitation for him to continue.

“I don’t know what magic you’ve used, but it seems we’ve almost had another international incident with your rabble-rousing paramour.” You honestly feel like you’re in some sort of book, shaking your head slightly, Drake must be joking.

“The shadow wielder just about tore down the entire palace when he learned you weren’t in Cordyn. Though with his temper there was not time to explain to him that we knew where you were.”

Now a humorous smile is stretching across your face, and you can’t help when the laugh you’ve been trying to hold in bubbles out.

“I knew that you could embellish things, but this seems extreme, even for you Drake.” You say between laughter as your hand comes up to grasp Drake on the shoulder. Though your laugh begins to die down when you see the look on Drake’s face.

“O-Oh.” You stutter in amazement. “You really are serious.”

The indignant scoff he gives you is only broken off by the slamming of a door against the tavern wall. You both turn your head quickly as the air in the tavern turns icy with anger. 

“Why are you always with him?” The question comes out in a growl as the disgruntled man stalks towards you as if he’s the predator and you’re his prey.

Your eyes flash in challenge, after everything over the last year, you refuse to back down. 

Turning away from Xaden, you direct your next statement to Drake. “Thanks Drake. I’ll take it from here and I’ll speak with you again before you leave regarding the next few weeks.”

Drake gives you a curt nod and a small uptick of his mouth, turning away from Xaden and back out the door of the tavern. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turn your head and look up to meet the stare of the most insufferable man in your life, at the moment at least. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap at Xaden while straightening your spine. You relish in the surprise that flashes in his eyes when you step up into his space. 

“My problem. You just fucking left Cordyn and didn’t say a fucking word.” Xaden gets out between grit teeth.

“Here’s the problem Xaden.” Your tone short. “You think you have a say in where I go. You aren’t my wingleader anymore. I do not report to the cadre at Basgiath or in Aretia or whatever the gods names you are part of, so I don’t see where I’m stationed or move to is any of your business.”

You watch as his jaw ticks and you can feel the tension in his muscles from where he stands close to you. 

“I am more than aware of all of that. I am aware that I have no right to know where you are.” The anger in his voice is present, but his eyes tell a different story. In his onyx depths you can see the fear and panic swirl in and out of their golden flecks. “But for my own fucking sanity, I need to know.”

The last part comes out as little more than a whisper. An admission that looks like it may have cost the man in front of you his entire being. Xaden takes a shaky breath before closing his eyes.

“I have no right to demand anything from you, and I know that. But I about went out of my fucking mind when I searched for you, and you were nowhere in Cordyn.” He takes a small breath before the emotion clogging his throat stops him.

An arm shoots out and forcefully pulls you forward, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. “I ca- I can’t lose you like that again. You can’t just disappear.” The last part is a whisper in your ear as his face comes to burrow in your hair.

You stand there for a few moments unsure exactly what to do. After the night in Cordyn, you thought the way Xaden acted was just from the shock of finally seeing you again, but with this, you realize there is something more to it.

Finally giving in for just a moment, you bring your arms around Xaden’s waist and return the hug. You hear his breath hitch from where his face is still buried in your hair and his arms hug you tighter. 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t trying to hide from or scare you.” You tell him, your tone gentle. “There’s been intel given and I chose to come back here. This place is special to me.”

Xaden picks up his head looking at you with furrowed brows as you finish and give a labored sigh. 

“After I left Resson, I traveled on foot for a few days and found myself here. I worked in this tavern for a few months before the owner, Red, put me in contact with Drake to assist with the war effort.” Xaden watches you explain, and you see the hurt on his face at your tale of your own exploits after Resson. 

“Someone could’ve killed you if they knew you were a rider.” Xaden’s panic is palpable, and you huff a laugh.

“At the time, I didn’t really care.” Xaden’s eyes flash before he’s dragging you into another hug, crushing you even harder than before.

“Though I have to ask one question.” You say as you pull away from Xaden’s hold. “If I didn’t disappear, would you be acting this way? Would you be fighting for me like you are now?”

The look on Xaden’s face makes you shake your head and move a few steps away putting much needed space between the two of you.

“Exactly.” Resigned, you continue, maybe because you want to add salt to the wound making him suffer like you did. “While I was here, I was welcomed. Hell, I’d go out on a limb and say I’m loved. And you dare to be jealous of Drake, when he’s done nothing but look after me for the last few months.”

“Gods Xaden. Is there any us to go back to?” The bitterness in your voice cutting like the blade of your sheathed dagger.

“Don’t say that.” Xaden utters, a quiet plea.

“Why? It’s the truth. You’re trying to atone for something that I don’t even know if we can get past. How can I trust that when push comes to shove, I’ll be your priority?”

“Fuck! I know!” He says, his anger getting the best of him. “Do you not understand how angry I am at myself for the way I treated you. For the way I let you be left behind.”

Xaden begins pacing franticly in a way you’ve never seen before. “I’ve woken up every fucking day – when I did even fall asleep - replaying all the fucking ways I’ve failed you. The one person I never wanted to neglect; is the one person I wholeheartedly failed the most.”

“And no, I can’t change all my shitty actions. I can’t do anything but try to gain your trust back for the rest of my fucking life. I would gladly take a scar for every way that I’ve hurt you than lose you forever. You are the only sunshine I’ve found in a life that’s been filled with nothing but rainstorms and darkness. I’ll do whatever I can to prove to you that I’m worthy of you. That you are my only priority.” As he was speaking Xaden grabbed your hands in his and continued to drag his thumbs over your wrists, grounding you to the feeling of him. 

Tipping back your head and closing your eyes to take a moment for yourself, you try to clear your mind from all the hurt that you’ve felt. To wade through the overwhelming swath of emotions. 

But your head jerks up and eyes go wide as you hear the sirens blare. Pulling your hands from Xaden, you yell for Jesper and Tusarr telling them to find Drake.

As you sheath the few weapons you had left behind the counter, you look back to Xaden. “We can discuss this more later, but you need to leave. That’s the attack siren and if Dhìoch is correct we only have about twenty minutes.”

He looks at you with steel in his eyes. “I’m not fucking leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” You say back with finality. “You aren’t even supposed to be here and this isn’t your fight. You need to get back to your own riot.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you here to fight alone.” Xaden hisses through grit teeth as you both walk out of the tavern.

You turn and pull him down by the lapels on his jacket. “Yes. You. Are.” Steel in your gaze and words. “This is not your fight. This is Poromiel, not Navarre, not Aretia, not Tyrrendor. Go home and defend it.”

You let go and get two steps before his hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you backwards. 

“I’m going to get the rest of my riot from Draithus and will be right back.” He explains, his face directly in yours. “Do not be reckless.”

Before you can give him a sarcastic sass back, you are plastered to his chest, his hands in your hair at the nape of your neck, and he’s kissing you with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him. You gasp as the kiss ends as quickly as it began and he’s tearing himself away and mounting Sgaeyl.

You blink a few times and then shake your head, trying to clear it before running for Dhìoch. 

‘You need to clear your head for battle.’ Dhìoch sasses, clear amusement in her tone.

‘And you need to learn to tell me when Sgaeyl is here and bringing around her infuriating rider.’ You snark back with an irritated sneer to the back of your dragon’s head.

‘He may be infuriating, but he still has your heart racing.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s need to maneuver in to your personal life. 

Your banter with your dragon is cut short when you see an entire hoard of wyvern in the distance heading straight towards Pavis. 

‘Are you ready for this Dhìoch?’ You ask, your mind calculating on the best ways to strike.

‘We will not fail. Now brace yourself Loyal One.’ Dhìoch says before shooting straight towards the hoard.

Your heart rate kicks up as the prospect of your first battle back with your dragon begins. 

‘Can you relay the information to the gryphons to help evacuate the citizens and we’ll handle the hoard?’ You direct.

‘Done, they are working to put them in the safe houses.’ Dhìoch confirms as she cuts through the air with a precision you admire. 

As you get closer, your eyes widen at the amount of venin atop the wyvern. You try to count, but you lose it at five. Gears clicking in your mind, you take a mental tally of the alloyed daggers you have on you and know you must keep them close. Having only three will limit your ability to throw. 

‘Are you ready Dhìoch? I’m going to need you to fly as close to the wyvern as possible.’ You ask as you go over the plan in your head.

‘I don’t believe the Brooding One would agree with your plan, but yes we will take these abominations down.’ You ignore Dhìoch’s tease and reach for her power.

As you feel the sensation of her power fill your veins you look down to see your fingers disappear from view. Once you can feel yourself fully cloaked, you carefully stand and walk as close to the juncture of Dhìoch’s leg and wing. As Dhìoch begins to hover, you duck to avoid scorching blue fire as it sizzles through the air above you and immediately slide down off her back.

Landing on the back of one of the smaller wyverns, you crouch and try to gain your balance as best as possible. The small form in front of you wears purple leathers and you assume this must be one of their students. Without giving the venin time to turn around, you fling one of your three daggers and hit it in the back of the neck. You watch as the blood flows and the venin goes limp. Before you can jump, you feel the wyvern you are on begin to rapidly descend. 

Immediately rising to your feet, you don’t think and just jump though you know you are too close to the wyverns falling body.

‘Dhìoch!’ Your mental voice is panicked as you are unsure where your dragon is currently. The panic doesn’t last long as you suddenly feel talons wrap around you. Drawing a ragged, grateful breath when you see the coppery sheen above you.

‘You should trust me more than that.’ Dhìoch says in an offended tone as she tosses you up and catches you on her back.

Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Yes, well I wasn’t expecting that wyvern to go into freefall.’

You get back into your seat and Dhìoch begins to climb above the battle again. Looking down, you can see a venin on the way into the heart of town. Panic begins to rise when you realize that Ceridwen and Red are in the perfect collision course for the venin.

‘You must take me down Dhìoch. I won’t let anything happen to them.’ You can feel your terror begin to take over at the thought of something happening to the couple that took you in.

‘Get them out and then come right back. I will not let you get drained on the ground.’ Dhìoch growls, her disapproval evident. 

Dhìoch begins her descent, and you know this will be a running landing. Throwing up a quick prayer to Zinhal, you rise from her back and head back to her shoulder. As she hits to the perfect height, you let yourself fall and with more ease than you expected, you are immediately running towards the tavern. 

“Red! Ceridwen! Get out now!” You yell at the top of your lungs racing for the front of the tavern. 

Ceridwen darts out of the front door with a small satchel in tow. Behind her your eyes widen as Red dons his brown leathers and is sheathing a sword to his back.

“You should be taking shelter with Ceridwen!” You yell at him as soon as he’s in earshot.

He gives you a look that shows he is anything but impressed. “No, I should be fighting for you and Ceridwen both and that is what I intend to do.”

Ceridwen comes next to you and puts a hand on your forearm. “You’re fighting a losing battle my dear, so instead of wasting any time, let’s go.”

You shake your head and begin pulling Ceridwen along. ‘Dhìoch can you tell Tusarr to help get Ceridwen to safety.’ A low growl in your head is the only response before you hear the screech of a gryphon landing. 

“Go with Tusarr, she’ll take you to the others. I’ll take care of Red the best I can.” You say to Ceridwen before she tugs you close in a tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, my dear, and don’t worry about Red, he can take care of himself.” She says before letting you go and repeating the same process with Red.

‘Alright Dhìoch, let’s take down some more of these dark wielders.’ You say as you run towards an opening for Dhìoch to land.

As you see her scales come into view, you turn, and your eyes fly wide. In the few minutes since leaving Red behind a venin has materialized and is staring him down. Letting Dhìoch’s power flow, you mask yourself and begin sprinting toward Red’s side. 

Getting closer you see him locked in battle and as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, his strength seems to be waning. 

Your heart stops and eyes go wide as you watch the venin slash down Red’s arm with a dagger that was just dripping with a green liquid.

“NO!” The scream rips from your lips as Red slashes his sword towards the venin slashing at its throat. As you slowly get closer you can see Red’s movements becoming sluggish.

Please Malek, no! Take me instead!

‘Dhìoch you need to get Red to the healers and tell Drake to get him healed.’ You demand of your dragon. 

Not taking your eyes from the venin still managing to stand, you stalk forward, cloaked and invisible. Your face contorted in rage, you continue running and pull the alloyed dagger from your ribs. Without stopping, you barrel into the venin with your dagger leading straight into his chest. The venin hisses at the impact and the dive of your blade. Blood rushing in your ears, you fall with the venin, and it isn’t until you roll, now looking up at the sky that a familiar burning pain breaks through at your wrist.

You don’t need to look down to know that some of the poison is now in your system, but you won’t let them win. You won’t let the venin take Pavis without a fight. Slowly rising to your feet and looking at your surroundings., the town that you have loved is now alight in flames surrounded with a thick smoke, suffocating the beautiful town center. 

‘I am on my way to you, Loyal One.’ Dhìoch confirms as you begin to jog towards an area for her to land.

As soon as you see Dhìoch’s talons hit the ground, you start running for her leg. Your breathing is coming in rapid pants as you try to ignore the burn in your arm. 

‘You need to be seen by a healer as well.’ Dhìoch growls as you tear a strip from your shirt and wrap your wrist.

‘No. I will save these people first, with or without your help.’ You demand without feeling any remorse for your biting tone.

You can feel Dhìoch’s displeasure at your response down the bond, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she flies back into the din, the stifling smell of smoke rising from the ground and clouding your vision. As though Zinhal hears your pleas, there is a break in the smoke on the horizon and you spot a venin with its robes billowing in the wind.

‘That one’s next.’ You refuse to hear any argument from Dhìoch as you set your sights on the enemy in front of you. Dhìoch slices through the air and as you grow closer to the venin, you can see the brilliant red that spiders from the creature’s eyes down the sides of its face.

Dhìoch clearly has read your intentions and begins her ascent to hover over the massive wyvern that has your next target. As she levels out, you begin to lower to her shoulder but can’t bite back a sharp intake of breath when your wrist moves, the poison making its presence known. You try to avoid the sting and crouch before launching yourself from Dhìoch’s back.

For a few seconds you are airborne and hoping that you estimated the correct spot. You don’t have long to worry as you feel your feet hit the leathery surface of the wyvern. You let your entire body drop as you try to gain your balance on the creature. 

Looking up, your eyes fly wide realizing that the venin can see you and is looking directly into your eyes.

“Ah, the pained one again makes an appearance. Tell me, do you really think you can win this challenge?” The oily voice that drags from the venin in front of you draws shivers down your spine.

You don’t respond as you know there is no reason. The venin slowly stalks towards you, wind whipping at their robes with two blades drawn. Assessing the way the venin moves; you know that you’ll have to be quick.

‘Make sure you’re below me Dhìoch, just in case.’ You hear the hum of agreement in your mind as you draw your blade.

‘Dispatch the dark wielder quickly. You need to get back to the flyer captain.’ You hear the slight concern in Dhìoch’s voice.

You continue using Dhìoch’s power to remain cloaked, although you’re unsure of how much use it Is against the venin. Creeping forward you hold an alloy hilted dagger in your right hand. Letting the thought linger too long, you must go on the defensive when the venin strikes first, and the bite of a dagger slashes close to your face. 

Ducking down, you feel your foot slip slightly on the leathery back of the wyvern. Without thinking through your moves, you slam a dagger into the back of the wyvern to avoid falling. The minute it embeds, the wyvern bucks and you can do nothing but hold on as best you can, your wrist burning with fury. Regrettably, the venin does not seem to be affected by the wyverns thrashing. You watch as they continue to get closer and try to throw your right leg up and regain your balance. 

Pulling yourself up, you don’t see as the venin brings one of its blades down and though you move quickly, it isn’t quick enough to evade the blade completely. An agonizing scream tears from you as the blade pierces your side.

‘Loyal One, finish it!’ Dhìoch demand is covered in icy dread as you try to push past the pain. 

Taking as deep of a breath as you can, you gather your remaining strength and duck as the venin goes to slash at your other side. A loud roar sounds that causes the venin to turn its head and you take the opportunity to bury your remaining alloyed dagger into its throat. 

The venin coughs and sputters grabbing at its throat, but you watch as the skin around it begins greying and shriveling.

“You bitch!” The venin gasps and lunges towards you. Losing your balance, you trip backwards and find yourself falling from the leathered surface of the wyvern. A particularly fiery jolt of pain slashes through you as you begin falling and you watch as your arms raise, and you can see you are no longer invisible.

“Y/N!” A voice calls in the distance and you turn to see a blur of blue. As your mind is drug down with poison, you barely have the cognizance to call out for Dhìoch. 

You hear air furiously whipping around you and all the breath tumbles from your lungs when you hit a rough surface hard. The impact has your vision going completely black as your body jerks from the impact. 

With all the poison coursing through your veins, it proves impossible to open your eyes, but you can feel that your body is still rolling. The only thought left is that those you care about are safe before you succumb to the darkness.

You feel your consciousness pull forward, even though your body feels like a thousand weights are tied to it, even your eyelids feel tethered. The roughness that you remember last seems to be replaced with something soft and the fire in your veins only a light hum. The exhaustion of your mind and body don’t keep your conscious state around long as you feel yourself drift again. 

Unsure of how long you’ve been in a state of poisoned dissidence you finally feel as if you can move your small extremities. You take the time to try and wiggle your fingers and toes, but your eyelids still feel like they have anchors attached. You try straining to hear any sounds around you, but everything still feels slightly muffled.

“How long is this going to take?” An impatient male voice penetrates your ears.

“That’s not something I can predict. I can’t mend the poison from her system.” Another male voice replies in exhaustion.

“It’s been over a week. It didn’t take this long when Violet was poisoned.” Confusion swirls in your brain as you try to place the name that seems so familiar. 

“I understand, but poison doesn’t affect every person the same. Besides, from the light discoloration from her veins on her left arm, it seems like this has happened before.” The exhausted male voice replies.

You can hear as the pacing footsteps suddenly halt. “What?!?” The other voice says a tone that seems slightly panicked but also filled with fury.

“Didn’t you notice the black veins running down her arm while we were in Cordyn. They stood in stark relief to her skin and that dress.” You’d give anything to move your body, wanting to wrap your arms around yourself in soothing gesture at the conversation you’re hearing.

“I was a little busy trying to keep myself in one place and not forcefully pick her up and leave with Sgaeyl, so no, I suppose I didn’t notice.” Realization hits as now you realize its Xaden’s voice you’re hearing. “Besides, why would that matter, that was over a month ago now.”

“Yes, but her body obviously wasn’t recovered from that poisoning, so now it’s taking longer.” The other male in the room has a voice that sounds familiar now, but you still can’t place it.

“And I’m going out of my fucking mind. I’m being ordered to Draithus again tomorrow and I can’t leave not knowing if she’s going to be okay.” Xaden’s voice becomes tight with worry and frustration.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant, you don’t have much of a choice. You’re going to be leaving tomorrow with Sgaeyl and you’ll have to deal with it.” The voice has grown hard, both with weariness and aggravation. 

“Don’t fucking try me, Brennan. You won’t fucking win.” Xaden challenges.

“Oh, I don’t have to try you. Lieutenant Colonel, remember?” With that last statement, you hear as footsteps sound and a door clicking shut behind them. 

As you begin to feel the eternal pull of sleep weighing on your body again, you notice the bed you’re in dip down slightly. 

“Blaze, I need you to fight this. I need you with me. You can’t leave me again, not like this, not before I can show you how much I love you.” There’s no mistaking the pain in Xaden’s voice and the way it breaks in and out. It’s clear that he’s barely holding himself together, but the pull of darkness is too sweet to deny.

 

Taking a deep breath, you finally feel the ability to flutter your eyes open. Though as you do and stare up at the ceiling, everything still feels foggy. You’re unsure of how long you just lay there with your eyes open, but eventually you gather enough strength to sit up. 

Looking around, your brow furrows trying to place the room you are in. It’s well appointed, but there’s no white marble and blinding gold, this chamber is pure stone with tapestries lining the wall generating some warmth to the space. You look up at an armoire that is at the side of the room and turn to see a door that you assume must be a bathing chamber. 

There is a large green chair that has been posted next to the bed as if someone was sitting there waiting for you. You close your eyes as you try to clear the fog that still clings to your brain and memories. The action feels like wading through waist deep water, and you can’t help the confusion that seems to settle.

Brows furrowing you try to remember the last place you were, because you know it wasn’t wherever this is. Looking down, you see that you’re in a pair of loose-fitting black pants and oversized shirt. Running a hand through your hair, your nose scrunches at the greasy feeling of your hair. Whatever has happened in the last few days, the only thing you want right now is a nice long shower.

Slowly picking your overtired body from the bed, you shift to a standing position. Trying your best not to wobble, you walk into the bathing chamber and immediately spot the shower and take a deep breath. Hobbling straight over, you turn the taps and let the warm water run through your fingers relishing in the feeling. You let yourself relax into the shower and hope to Amari that the water will wash the fog of your mind. 

Grabbing a towel and drying yourself, you walk towards the mirror and place your hands on the sink sucking in a breath and letting the granite hold your weight. The peace that settled into you during your shower is short lived as you look up into the mirror. 

Gasping, you fumble backwards, and your hand flies up to your chest. You watch the mirror as your fingers trace the scar on the left side of your body and the lingering blackness. Eyes flying wide, the memories of the battle rush back in a torrent causing you to move. 

You go back into the room, the peace of the shower completely gone, and search for clothes. You see riding leathers that look to be about the right size and immediately begin tugging them on your body. Lacing your boots with as much efficiency as you can master, you are shooting up, not concerned about your hair or the fact that you don’t even know where you are. 

Only one thought is pulsing through your mind. ‘Is Red alright? And where is Ceridwen?’ The thought leaves unbidden, and you pull up to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when there’s a response.

‘They are both safe and resting in a small cottage in town.’ Dhìoch’s voice slithers quietly into your mind.

‘Can you take me to them?’ You ask as everything hits in succession.

You know you must look like a crazed fiend, but your emotions are hitting you from every side and you need to see they are safe for yourself. There’s a minute where you think Dhìoch will deny you, but then you just ignore her and begin back down the stairs and sprint out large doors. 

Unsure where you are and where you are going, you turn and see a small town in the valley below. Turning back your eyes widen at the stone fortress that you just exited from. 

I’ll worry about that later. Is the only thought you have as you begin walking towards the town below. You have no idea where you are going, just that you need to lay eyes on the two people that saved you from yourself.

As you begin to enter the thick of the town, you wrap your arms around yourself as you brace from the cold wind that has begun whipping around you. Arriving at the heart of the town, you enter into one of the taverns. 

“Excuse me.” You say as you walk up to the barkeep. “Do you happen to know if there was a couple that was brought to this village from Pavis a few days ago? Their names are –.“

“Y/N!” You cut yourself off as you hear the familiar voice yell your name.

“Ceridwen!” You yell back and instantly run towards her and embrace her in a bruising hug. 

“Thank the gods! We’ve been so worried about you.” She gets out in a rush parsing over you as if looking for injuries.

“I’m fine. How are you? Is Red alright?” The rush of your words and panic in your eyes makes Ceridwen soften her eyes at you.

“Thanks to you.” She says as she grabs you by the arm. “Come. I know he will be ecstatic to see you finally awake.”

She leads you back out into the town and the tension in your chest begins to ease slightly at her warmth. A small smile spreads on your lips as you get closer to a small cottage closer to the outskirts of the town. Hope fluttering in your chest as Ceridwen goes to open the wooden door and you can’t help but notice the green roof that seems to line every house you’ve passed.

“Ceri did you happen to get any eggs while you were out.” A male voice calls that immediately has you taking a breath of relief. 

Walking further into the room, a beaming smile spreads across your face that you can’t control. 

“Thank the gods!” Red says in a breathless whisper before tugging you into a fierce hug.

You let your body slacken as the relief of seeing them both crashes over you, Ceridwen coming up behind you and hugging you as well. You let yourself melt into the warmth of their hugs and take the first deep breath you’ve had since you’ve woken up in this strange place.

An hour later you find yourself drifting, your eyes involuntarily closing as the exertion of your day begins to hit you full force.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get you in bed.” You hear Ceridwen whisper softly.

“I don’t want to intrude.” You say though it comes out in a yawn.

“My dear, you saved our lives, the least we can do is let you rest.” You don’t argue with her logic and slowly follow her to one of the bedrooms. As soon as you step next to the bed, you fall into the mattress and your eyes slide closed.

The next day, you feel at least some of your energy has returned to its normal state and take a short walk into the hills surrounding the town. As you sit with your back on one of the trees, you breathe in the clean air and let the calm of the forest wash over you.

‘Why are you always such trouble?’ Dhìoch slides into your mind a hint of amusement in her tone.

‘Excuse me. How exactly am I trouble? And hello to you too.’ You don’t try to hide your indignation. 

‘Always the one to jump in and save others. Then taking two weeks to wake up.’ You scoff at your dragon, especially when she is intruding on the little solitude you seemed to have found. It isn’t as if you asked to be poisoned again.

‘You could’ve found another rider. I gave you the opportunity to leave me behind.’ Your dragon’s snarl curls around your mind and you know she would be knocking you to the ground if she was in front of you.

‘That isn’t what I was implying. You aren’t the trouble for me. Sgaeyl is.’ Dhìoch says, her tone bored. Though you can’t help but send your confusion through your bond. In the back of your mind a faint whisper of someone talking while you were poisoned flits in your mind, but you can’t quite place it. 

‘Dhìoch, where exactly are we anyway.’ You look around and there is something so familiar about the land, but the answer seems to evade you.

‘I believe the answer to all of that will be coming very shortly.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s insistent use of non-answers to your questions. 

Beginning to feel your body tire again, you slowly rise to your feet to begin the trek back to Red and Ceridwen’s cottage. You didn’t ask them where you were, but you were so concerned with their safety, you didn’t care. Knowing they were both safe was the only thought that crossed your mind. 

As you get closer to the cottage, your body begins to feel to heavy and when you go to take your next step, your knee gives out. Expecting to crash to the ground, your eyes snap closed and you brace for the impact. When impact doesn’t come, you open your eyes back up and they flare as they lock with onyx ones.

With two long strides you find yourself gathered tightly in Xaden’s arms and his head buried in your hair. 

“You’re going to send me to Malek one of these days.” He whispers in your hair, though there’s no bite to his tone. You huff a humorless laugh at the statement while still being crushed to the chiseled lines of his chest.

“For some reason I think I have an appointment with the god of death before you do.” You sass back at the insufferable man that has your entire being plastered to him. As if in offense, his arms tighten around you further.

“Don’t even fucking joke like that.” His words come out hard a biting tone to every syllable.

He suddenly pulls you back and stares intensely back into your eyes. He continues searching yours before the exhaustion of the day starts to seep into you again. You let out a large yawn and begin to pull away from him.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Before you can get further than two steps ahead, Xaden has grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around.

“Then come with me.” His tone now soft as he looks pleadingly into your eyes. 

“Come with you where? I don’t even know where we are. All I know is there are two people that are grateful for my existence in this cottage that offered me a warm bed.” You continue as you gesture towards the cottage. 

“You’re in Aretia. I took you here after Pavis was evacuated.” He says as if that is an entire explanation.  

“While I appreciate everything you’ve done for Red and Ceridwen, I’ll only be staying until I feel back to myself fully.” You say turning again to walk away.

“You are staying here.” Xaden states with finality and you whir around fully intending to give him a piece of your mind at his overbearing insistence. Your plans however are dashed when the world begins to tilt, and your eyes roll skyward.

“Y/N, Love.” Is all you hear before you feel weightless and find yourself wrapped up in Xaden’s arms and he begins to jog. Unsure of what is happening, you try to let yourself relax as breathing becomes more of a chore. 

Seeming to fade back in and out, you suddenly feel the sharp sting of wind at your face, though Xaden tries to fold you closer towards his chest. “You’ll be alright love; you just need to hold on for me.” Xaden whispers, his mouth grazing your ear with every word. His words may be steady, but there is no mistaking the dread laced in their tone.

As your breathing begins to grow shallow, you’re jolted in Xaden’s arms. Trying to open your eyes, you are met with the looming shadow of the fortress that you had left from a day ago. Though that isn’t what shocks your system.

Your eyes catch Xaden’s for only a heartbeat, but the absolute terror swirling in them puts a crack in the wall that you’ve had up for months. 

“Where’s Brennan?” Xaden barks, between the force of the command and the panic you can only imagine the way people part for the man.

“Wh-what the hell Riorson?” Another male voice questions from further away.

“You need to help her. She fainted and she’s barely breathing.” Xaden explains as you can feel him climbing and hear as a door is kicked open. 

“Stop standing there and fucking help her!” The roar leaving Xaden’s lips has your pulse jumping at the threatening tone.

“You need to calm down. Most likely it’s just the aftereffects of the poison trying to leave her system.” The calm male voice says as you feel Xaden place you down on a soft surface.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down.” Xaden growls. “She’s been out for two fucking weeks and then disappears and no one fucking tells me! You want me to calm down, then fix her!”

No words are exchanged before you hear footsteps coming closer to the bed and then a warm sensation seems to wash over your skin. As the warmth begins to fade, you finally take a deep breath and exhale out of your mouth, eyes fluttering open to the familiar stone ceiling you had woken to before.

“Thank the gods.” A breathless whisper comes before Xaden is kneeling next to the bed you are in, closer to your head. Your head turns and you’re met with the eyes that you can never seem to get out of your mind. He brings a hand to your head and cradles your cheek, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“What happened?” Your brows furrow as you blink your eyes trying to clear the fog in your head.

Another figure catches your attention, and you look down to see a man you’ve never seen before sitting at the base of the bed. 

“I believe it was the last remnants of poison pushing through your system.” The man with auburn curls tells you. 

Your eyes don’t stay on him long as you feel your body begin to drag you down again. Looking back up to Xaden, you slowly blink, the heaviness of sleep beckoning you. “I’m tired.”

“I know, my Love.” Xaden murmurs as his hand continues to stroke your cheek. “Sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You blame it on the exhaustion pulling at you when his words cause your entire body to warm and a spark in your chest begin to ignite, though the flicker grows hotter when he leans in and gives your forehead a lingering kiss. Not letting yourself dwell on your feelings, you close your eyes and let yourself drift. 

Unsure of how long it’s been since you’ve drifted, your eyes blink open to darkness around you. Trying to roll to your right and out of the bed, you are immediately stopped by hand that is firmly gripping yours. Turning your head, you see a large figure slouched in sleep in a large armchair brought as close as possible to the bed. 

You slowly untangle your fingers from Xaden’s and continue your roll out of the bed. Heading towards what you think are the windows, you silently let yourself lean into the wall. Pulling back one of the curtains, you let yourself relish in the bright light of the moon that highlights the town below. You take in all the little things you can see by the light of the moon, including the way the moonlight glistens over the green rooftops that dot the town.

Caught up in your perusal of the town, you jolt when you hear the quick snap of the chair on the floor and turn as the occupant jolts up and begins striding towards the door.  

“Xaden.” You murmur in bid not to scare him, and his head immediately turns towards your voice. Without responding to you, he meets you in two strides and turns you to face him. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The concern in his eyes and tone is evident, even in the soft way he holds you. 

“I’m…better. Not sure if I’ll ever be alright.” You reveal quietly which causes Xaden’s arms to tighten slightly around you. 

Resignation tearing at you, there’s no way to stop the words from forming. “What do you want Xaden? After living through the last few months, I need to know. What do you want?”

You let the seriousness of your question leech into your stare, not willing to pretend any longer.

“I want everything you’ll give me.” Xaden says bringing both hands to cup your face. 

“I can’t fucking let you go. I refuse.” He continues fervently his eyes blazing with conviction. “What I said back in Cordyn, I meant every godsdamned word. I just need you to believe me.”

Xaden continues to stare back at you his brows furrowing and eyes turning sad. “I need you to give me another chance. Just one. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

Your eyes slide closed as your head battles with your heart. Your head tells you that you’ll never be the priority for this man, but your heart screams for you to give him another chance. It isn’t either of those things that win out though, it’s the words that Red and Ceridwen left you with when you talked last night.

“No relationship is perfect, especially when you’re young. Life is always going to throw different problems in front of love, that's what makes finding it so special. But, if you find the one person that will fight tooth and nail to love you, you hold it close, because no relationship will succeed without the will to fight for it – you can’t just let it go.” Ceridwen finished while she gave Red’s hand a squeeze.

Opening your eyes, you can see the expectant look on Xaden’s face and the stiffness of his arms, even though his touch is still gentle on your cheeks.

“Are you going to fight for this like you will for the continent?” Your question comes out quiet, almost afraid of the answer.

“I will fight with everything in my being, until my last dying breath. I will always fight for you harder than I would ever fight for the continent.” The fiery conviction is only met with absolute certainty as his arm tightens snuggly around your waist tugging you against him. 

Your own hand comes up and pulls his other from your cheek. As you bring it down, you turn his palm and give it a lingering kiss. His breath hitches as his hand tunnels into your hair drawing you fully against him. 

After some time, Xaden’s hand moves to your neck and angles it to look up into his eyes. The moonlight seems to cast them into pools of gold, a swirling mass of love hidden in every corner.

“May I kiss you?” Xaden breathes out in a whisper as if he’s afraid to speak too loudly.

“Only if you promise it’s only the first in a lifetime’s worth.” The smile that he gives you is brighter than the sun before he tugs your face forward and his lips crash to yours.

Caught off guard at the ferocity behind the gesture, you can’t help your smile and the small laugh that bubbles up. You feel as Xaden’s lips curl into their own smile before the kiss turns languid. 

Xaden continues to kiss you slow, as if he’s trying to re-memorize every single corner of your mouth. You feel yourself melt into his arms as he slowly backs up and sits down on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls you down onto his lap while tightening his grip as if he can’t stand to have a single bit of space between you. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel every inch of his body press into yours. He pulls away slightly giving your neck a lingering kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“Gods, I missed you. Your taste, your lips, the way you fit in my arms.” Xaden says as he punctuates each one with a kiss. 

“Missed me enough to always put me first?” The seriousness of your voice and conviction in your eyes showing through.

Grabbing your face with both hands, Xaden’s eyes seem to search every corner of yours. “No one and nothing will ever come before you again. That is the easiest promise that I could ever make.”

His hand slides to your waist and pulls you flush against him and for the first time in months, you let yourself relax into his touch and breathe him in. As he feels your body soften against him, he brings your head to rest in the crook of his neck and leaves a lingering kiss on your temple before burying his face in your hair.

“You are the light to my shadow. The only home I’ll ever find rest in, and I’ll spend the rest of my life more than satisfied if I always have you.” He whispers in your hair, and in the darkness of his room, in the middle of the night, you breathe deeply and your heart settles as you find your own home in him.

Taglist: @honethatty12 @motorsportloverf1 @annthepenguin @dragonsandrinks @acourtofsmutandstarlight @minidemont @bookishcait

[ladybirdswritings]

LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

two;

“What are you doing?” Your voice trembled, unsteady—a ballerina with mangled feet, poised yet painfully unnatural.

Xaden’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk, as his fingers grazed the mahogany brush in his grasp. He didn’t answer, his dark eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between you. He seemed amused by all of this, or perhaps prideful.

You sat there, unchained but weak-hearted—though he had kept his promise. You were unchained.

Unchained and seated on an unfamiliar bed with grand, imposing posts and onyx-silk sheets. After an excruciatingly tense dinner, where every set of eyes at the table had cut into you like blades, Xaden had led you here. The silver-haired girl, in particular, had clutched her dagger tighter each time his gaze drifted toward your slouched figure.

Their whispers had danced around you like a ghostly waltz—sharp, feverish murmurs about your bruised wrists and hollow eyes. But you’d been too exhausted, too hollow yourself, to care. The soup in front of you had demanded all your focus.

You didn’t trust them. You didn’t trust him either—this man of shadows. Yet, inexplicably, he had fed you, given you a bed. And now he was… brushing your hair?

It was matted, straw-like, and stained with memories you couldn’t quite pluck free. The brush snagged against a knot, yanking sharply, and you winced. Xaden tensed, his patience fraying at the edges.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” he decided after a moment.

You didn’t protest.

He left, disappearing into the adjoining room, and when he returned, his outstretched hand was waiting for yours. Calloused, steady, and strangely anchoring. Against your better judgment, you placed your trembling palm in his.

“Come, little witch. If I wanted to bite you, you’d be bitten already.”

But as you rose unsteadily to your feet, his words stirred unease. He intended to join you.

The thought snagged on a sharp edge in your mind, but you were too weary to resist.

“Choose, Y/N,” a voice whispered from the corners of your memory, harsh and grating. “Kill him, and your power will be imminent.”

The agony hit like a tide, crashing over you until you clung to the onyx countertop for support. Xaden’s hands twitched at his sides, but he made no move to steady you.

When you raised your head, the mirror greeted you with a face that was hauntingly familiar: your own, but hollow, bruised, and unrecognizable.

“Y/N.” The name fell from your lips like a prayer, fragile and disbelieving. “My name is Y/N.”

Xaden nodded once, his towering presence unmoving.

“Yes, it is,” he said simply.

A flood of questions threatened to spill from your tongue, but you turned to him instead, accusation lacing your voice. “You know me.”

His expression didn’t falter as he began rolling up the cuffs of his midnight-black shirt, exposing veined forearms.

“No,” he said, his voice like gravel, “not personally.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you, given that he was about to bathe you. He looked at you expectantly, yet you made no effort to move. He needed to answer your question. You needed to know why.

“Strip,” he ordered, his tone firm but not unkind.

You remained still. His jaw twitched.

“If you’re going to sit there rotting in gods-know-how-long a time worth of grime, it’s going to be a great inconvenience for me. So you need to wash yourself— with or without my help. Your choice.”

Heat flushed your face, and the protest died in your throat. “Not. Personally,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his earlier words. Were you to just sit wide eyed while he ran those awfully mangled hands down your skin? Your breasts, your— well.

For the first time, the corners of his lips lifted in genuine amusement. Slowly, he stepped forward, tucking a stray strand of your tangled hair behind your ear.

“Trust me, little witch. To me, you’re nothing more than a finely honed blade— sharp, useful, and exactly what we need to—” he stopped himself, and though you did not recognize much— you knew it was apprehension flashing in his eyes. “My desire belongs to the silver-haired girl downstairs.”

And your love, your mind supplied.

If that were true, why had they treated each other with such loathing at dinner?

Though Xaden’s words were an attempt at easing your hesitance— you still remained unmoving. Yet your prolonged silence seemed to unnerve him. He shifted on his feet before offering a compromise. “I’ll turn around.”

True to his word, he faced the wall, giving you the privacy to peel away the tattered cloth clinging to your starved body.

“Don’t turn around,” you whispered, tension straining your voice.

“I won’t,” he said softly, his shoulders rigid. “In the tub.”

The water enveloped you like an old lover, soothing every ache and gnawing pain. You curled into yourself, knees to chest, but when he turned back, the shadows didn’t entirely conceal you.

Xaden knelt by the tub, cupping water in his hands and letting it cascade over your hair. His touch was careful, deliberate, as he massaged circles into your temples. The silence between you was fragile but strangely comforting.

“You know of me,” you said at last, rephrasing your earlier accusation.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his hands moving with practiced precision.

“What am I?” The question hung between you, heavier than the steam rising from the bath.

Not who. What.

He paused, his fingers lingering on the sharp angles of your collarbone before he answered. “You’re very special.”

The words were maddeningly vague, but you didn’t have the strength to push. Instead, you murmured, “How did you find me?”

His hands resumed their work, scrubbing soap through your matted locks. This time, he didn’t pause.

“It took a very, very long fucking time.” He sounded exhausted at the idea of it.

“But you found me,” you pressed, desperate now. “Why?”

And then, the madness prickled at your very mind once more. Phantom voices humming… his voice— and his still lips. All within your head.

She doesn’t know her worth yet.

You think you do? This voice belonged to a woman.

She’ll learn soon enough.

Better hope she survives the lesson…

Before you had even a moment to ponder those ominous words, he tipped your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I told you, you’re special, little witch. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you know what that means yet.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. But before you could respond, he draped a washcloth over your trembling hand.

“Wash yourself,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Your cheeks burned as you obeyed, turning your body away from him to complete the task. When you finished, exhaustion pressed heavily against your fragile frame.

You knew your name, but not your home. Your love, your family or friends. Did you have any? This cage with its high stone walls and scrutinizing creatures, it frightened you.

“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “Help me understand. I—I’m afraid.”

His eyes raked over your expression for a long moment— a mixture of admiration and pity flaring within them. He cupped your face in one damp hand, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free.

“Stop crying. I’ll help you understand,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding. “And you’ll hate me for it. But make no mistake, little witch: what my rebellion does to you won’t be wasted. You’re a weapon, dormant for too long. It’s time to wake you up. It’s time to win the war.”

🏷️’s: @emryb