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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 22
The next month is another flurry of classes, supply runs to Athebyne, and aerial training with Sgaeyl.
The situation on the border is becoming increasingly dangerous, with raids becoming more and more frequent, and we can’t seem to get weapons to the fliers often enough.
Violet’s training is a test all on its own. Everyday I spend with her tangled up in the mat, or instructing her as she uses magic, is a test of pure willpower.
She’s so disarming, so intelligent, and driven, that it’s becoming difficult to keep things strictly professional.
And beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
There are days when she walks into a room and I have to manually override every desire fueled thought that courses through me. And, Gods, she doesn’t make it easy. She pushes, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
“...I need you guys to get to class. Especially you. A signet would be great, you know. If you can maybe make that happen,” I hear Dain say as I walk toward his squad, gathered around the door to Professor Carr’s room.
“She’s going to miss Carr’s class today” I say to Dain, the only warning of my approach, and Sawyer hurries to move out of the way.
“No, I’m not.” Violet shakes her head and I ignore her, keeping my attention on Aetos.
“She needs to go,” Dain has the audacity to argue. “I mean, unless the wing has more pressing matters for Cadet Sorrengail, her time is best spent developing her wielding skills.”
“I think we both know she’s not going to manifest a signet in that room. She would have already if that was the key,” I retort, looking down at him, annoyed.
Aetos has no clue that I’ve been training her to wield over the last few months, and leave it to him to still believe he knows what’s best for Violet. “And yes, the wing has more pressing matters for her.”
“Sir, I’m just not comfortable with her going a day without at least practicing her wielding, and as her squad leader–”
“For Dunne’s sake,” I sigh, pulling a pocket watch out of my cloak and holding it out to Violet. “Pick it up, Sorrengail.”
Violet glances from Dain to me with an exasperated look on her face, and then looks down at the pocket watch in my hand, her face contorting in concentration.
She raises her right hand, and I can feel the brush of her power as it reaches my palm, a soft caress against my skin.
“You got this,” Rhiannon encourages.
“Let her concentrate,” Sawyer chastises.
The watch pulls from my hand and starts to fall, plummeting to the ground. Violet yanks her hand up and the watch speeds toward her, her other hand coming up to snatch the timepiece before it can smack her in the face.
There’s applause from her fellow first years, and I walk to Violet and pluck the watch out of her hand, dropping it back into my cloak. “See? She’s practiced. Now, we have things to do.”
I put a possessive hand at the small of her back, delighting at the way Dain stiffens almost imperceptibly.
I steer Violet away from the group, removing my hand once I feel confident she’s actually following me. “Where are we going?”
“I’m assuming you’re not wearing flight leathers under that cloak.” I open the door to the dormitory and she walks inside, turning to stare at me, dumbfounded.
“What?” I ask, closing the door and leaving the bitter cold behind us.
“You opened the door for me.”
“Old habits die hard.” I shrug. “My father taught me that–” I hault abruptly as the sting of his memory, so at odds with the woman next to me.
The hurt settles over me, and the world around me disappears momentarily as images of my father flood my mind.
Mentoring me on the sparring field, taking Bodhi and I to the Cliffs of Dralor, letting us pick blackberries and play until the sun had fallen behind the horizon.
That final goodbye, where he’d promised to come home.
Even at twenty-three the ache that comes from missing my father feels enormous, like I’m still a child.
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold for flying?” Violet’s voice cuts through my cloud of grief.
I blink, the world coming back into focus. “I’ll wait here.” I say curtly.
Violet walks into her room and changes quickly, reemerging in a set of fur-lined leathers.
We walk across the courtyard, empty save for a few cadets still rushing off to class.
“You didn’t answer me,” Violet says after a beat of silence.
“About what?” I don’t bother waiting for her, my resentment still fresh, her presence too close for comfort.
“About it being cold for flight.”
“Third-years have flight field this afternoon, Kaori and the other professors are just taking it easy on you guys, since the Squad Battle is coming up and they know you need the practice in wielding.” I push open the gate and stride into the tunnel, Violet hurrying in after me.
“But I don’t need the practice?” she asks doubtfully.
“Winning the Squad Battle is nothing in the scheme of keeping you alive. You’ll be on the front lines before the rest of them come next year.”
“Is that what’s going to happen next year? I’m going to the front lines?” she asks, her voice holding an edge of uncertainty.
I press my lips into a thin line, the future already becoming a messy tangle between the two of us. “Inevitably. There’s no telling how long Sgaeyl and Tairn will tolerate being separated. My best guess is that we’ll both have to sacrifice to keep them happy.”
We’re both silent for the remainder of our walk to the Gauntlet, watching the snowy landscape unfold.
“Second Wing,” Violet nods, noting the cadets that move through the Gauntlet, the obstacle course even deadlier with the addition of icy rain and thick clumps of snow. “You sure you don’t want your own squads out here practicing”
A small smile has the corner of my mouth lifting. It’s easy to forget sometimes that she’s still a first-year, and I remember what my own concerns and ambitions were then, all glory and no survival. “When I was a first-year I thought winning was the pinnacle, too. But once you’re in your third year, and you see the things that we do…” I grind my teeth at the horrors the professors have kept well hidden this year. “Let’s just say that the games are a lot more lethal.”
We start up the staircase, but there’s already a group coming down, so we both move off to the side to let them pass. I stand straighter, my spine going rigid as I take in the two figures descending the stairs.
Commandant Panchek and Colonel Aetos reach the landing, and Colonel Aetos beams at Violet, who might be standing even straighter than I am. “At ease,” he says and her shoulders relax just a fraction. “You’re looking well, Violet. Nice flight lines,” he says, gesturing to the indentations around his eyes from the flight goggles. “You must be getting a lot of airtime.”
“Thank you, sir, I am.” She smiles back at him, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dain is doing well, too. He’s my squad leader this year.”
“He told me,” Dain’s father says, his smile growing wider. “Mira asked about you while we were touring the Southern Wing last month. Don’t worry, you’ll get your letter privileges in second year, and then you can keep in touch more often. I’m sure you miss her.”
“Every day.” Violet nods. I wonder what it’s like to be in her position. To be the child of someone like Lillith Sorrengail, to rub shoulders and exchange smiles with these people who destroy, and take, and change the narrative to remain the forever heroes.
The sight of the general coming around the corner and out of the stairwell makes my breath catch, her presence grating against me like salt rubbed into all one hundred and seven scars that sprawl across my back.
“Mom,” Violet’s voice is a burst of air.
The general says nothing to her youngest daughter, just assesses her in that severe way of hers, scanning her from head to toe. “I hear you’re having trouble wielding.”
Is this the first time she’s seen her mother since Conscription? There’s no warmth in the woman’s gaze, and Violet takes a step backward as if needing to put some distance between Lillith and herself.
She lifts her chin slightly, “I have the best shields in my year.”
“With a dragon like Tairn, I would certainly hope so.” Her eyebrow quirks up in a look of distaste. “If not, all of that incredible, enviable power will have been…” she sighs in a mockery of dismay, “squandered.”
“Yes, General” is all Violet says in return, something like defeat in her tone.
“You have been the topic of some conversation, though.” General Sorrengail’s gaze lifts to Violet’s head, her mouth tightening in disapproval. I ball my hands into fists at my side, the desire to hit the general growing stronger the longer this interaction takes place.
“Oh?” Violet says curiously.
“We’re all wondering what powers–if any–you’re wielding from the golden dragon?” She smiles, a perversion of kindness.
Sgaeyl’s growl rumbles through my mind, low and threatening.
“Nothing yet. Andarna told me that feathertails are known for being unable to channel power to their rider. It’s why they don’t bond often.”
What a smooth little liar Violence is.
“Or ever,” Colonel Aetos adds. “We were actually hoping that you might ask your dragon to allow us to study her. For purely academic purposes, of course.”
Nausea rolls through me at the thought of any of them getting their hands on Andarna, a sentiment clearly shared by Sgaeyl.
“I will slaughter them all if they mention her name again.”
“Easy there, tiger, no one is going to let them near her.”
“Dark One,” She snarls in warning.
I decide it’s in my best interest to stay quiet.
“Unfortunately. I don’t see her being comfortable with that. She’s pretty private, even with me.” Violet says with a shrug
“Pity,” Colonel Aetos says simply. “We’ve had the scribes on it since Threshing, and the only reference they can find in the Archives about the power of feathertails is hundreds of years old, which is funny because I remember you father doing a bit of research about the second Kroblan uprising, and he mentioned something about feathertails, but we can’t seem to find that time.” He scratches his forehead in thought.
They all look at Violet expectantly. “I don’t believe he finished his research on that particular historical event before he died, Colonel Aetos. I couldn’t even tell you where his notes are.”
“Too bad.” General Sorrengail tries to smile, it looks more like a grimace. “Glad to see you’re alive, Cadet Sorrengail.” The general’s gaze shifts to me and our eyes lock for the briefest moment. I smooth my features into a mask of cool indifference. “Even if the company you’re forced to keep is more than questionable.”
My whole body feels poised to strike, something instinctual trying to overtake the calm, easy facade I have in place. “I always felt that we resolved any of those questions years ago.” I say quietly, willing myself to breathe evenly, to not allow my hands to shake
“Hmmm” She hums and turns away from Violet and I. “Do see if you can master some kind of signet, Cadet Sorrengail. You have a legacy to live up to.” She dismisses us both, walking past without a backward glance.
“Good to see you, Violet.” Colonel Aetos says to Violet with a pitying smile. Pancheck ignores the both of us, scurrying off to catch up to General Sorrengail.
Without a word Violet stomps up the stairs, her whole body exuding anger.
“You didn’t tell her about how you got out of the attack in your bedroom, and I’m not talking about me showing up.”
“I don’t ever see her. And you told me not to tell anyone.”
“Didn’t realize it was quite like that between you,” I say softly, a pang of sympathy hitting me in the chest.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” She says nonchalantly, “She spent almost an entire year ignoring me when Dad died.” A bitter laugh rips from her throat. “Which was almost as wholesome as the years she spent barely tolerating my existence because I wasn’t perfect like Brennan or a warrior like Mira.”
“She doesn’t know you very well, then.” I lengthen my strides to keep up with Violet’s furious pace.
She scoffs incredulously. “Or she sees right through me. Problem is, I’m never quite sure which it is. I’m too busy trying to live up to whatever impossible standard she sets to ask myself if they’re even standards I give a shit about.” She swings her angry gaze to me. “And what was that about anyway? Saying that you resolved questions years ago?”
“Just reminding her that I paid the price for my loyalty.” It’s a nonanswer, but it’s the only answer I’m willing to give her.
“Paid what price?” Of course Violet can’t keep well enough alone.
“Boundaries, Violence.” I warn, the phantom sting of each scar in the forefront of my memories.
Tairn and Sgaeyl both land across the field, Andarna tucking herself between Tairn’s legs.
Violet’s face breaks into a smile so bright that I’m momentarily stunned.
“We’re all flying today?” She asks as we walk toward the trio.
“We’re all learning today. You need to learn to stay on, and I need to learn why the hell it’s so hard for you. Andarna needs to learn how to keep up, Tairn needs to learn how to share his space in a tighter flight formation, and every other dragon but Sgayel is too scared to fly closer.”
Tairn blows a puff of steam out of his nostrils in agreement.
“And what is Sgaeyl learning?” She asks, her eyes fixed on the navy scaled dragon.
I grin at Sgaeyl. “She’s been leading for almost three years now. She’s going to have to learn how to follow. Or at least practice.
Tairn makes a laughing sound deep in his throat and Sgaeyl whirls on him, snapping her teeth at his teasing.
“Dragon relationships are absolutely incomprehensible.” Violet murmurs under her breath.
“Yeah?” I turn to her, cocking a brow. “You should try a human one sometime. Just as vicious, but less fire.” I run up Sgaeyl’s foreleg, twisting at the last second to swing my leg over the dip in her shoulder and settle into my seat. “Now let’s go.”
#fourth wing#fanfiction#xaden riorson#violet and xaden#violet sorrengail#xadenviolet#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#dain aetos#andarnanurran#tairn and andarna#andarna#violet and tairn#xaden and sgaeyl#xaden and violet#mira sorrengail#rhiannon matthias#tairn#tairneanach
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 21
January rolls into the quadrant in a gust of bitter cold. Preparations for War Games are in full swing, and senior leadership has a more intense training regimen than any we’ve had in previous years. Time spent focusing on our signets, fighting styles, and overall performance both in aerial combat and on the ground.
Every week is a flurry of battle briefs, flight challenges, and cold, bleak trips to Athebyne for supply drops.
To say I’m busy is an understatement; I’m barely making it to meals or seeing the rest of the crew outside of Garrick and a couple of other third-year Tyrs, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
It’s been over a month since I’ve spoken to Violet. I want to pretend it never happened, that she never walked down those steps that night, but I can’t.
Not when I can still feel her skin like it’s imprinted into the pads of my fingers.
The kiss was brutal in every way.
To finally give in to the temptation, to break away from the constant control and precision. It was unreal.
Even the constant exhaustion isn’t enough to override my obsessive thoughts. I replay that moment over and over, searching for any sign that Violet’s actions were more than what she was being made to feel. There’s a small part of me that holds onto some perverted hope that it was real. That it wasn’t muddled by where we are and who we are.
“Eyes up, my shadow.”
Sgaeyl banks a hard right, and I whip my head up as a floating obstacle course comes into view.
Like the Gauntlet, the Aerial Trial is meant to test a rider’s physical capabilities. The difference is that I’m nearly fifteen thousand feet into the air.
And climbing.
The course starts at fifteen thousand feet, ascending up to thirty thousand feet by a path of floating rings that wind their way around the entire war college.
I lean forward in my seat, grasping onto Sgaeyl’s shoulder spike, slick with cold rain, as the first series of rings comes closer. Her wings tuck behind her, and she shoots forward, rushing through a straight line of rings at a breakneck pace.
The wind beats into my face, the cold so exhilarating that a laugh bursts out of me.
Even with everything going on I can find joy in this work. The closeness Sgaeyl and I share, our minds no longer communicating in words but in bodies and instincts.
She pulls up without warning, twisting as her wings pierce the air and I lock my thighs around the top of her broad rib cage as we hurtle higher, putting another set of rings behind us.
We fly through the course, silent and focused, leaving a trail of riders behind us as we gain speed.
Sgaeyl blows past the last ring and descends, her giant claws crunching against the icy ground.
“I need to pay better attention at the start. We could have shaved off several seconds at least. That’s on me.” I say to Sgaeyl, sliding off of her back and wiping my rain-soaked face with the side of my cloak.
“You could talk to the girl. You might find you’re less distracted.” She responds with a hint of annoyance.
I’m going to choose not to hear that.
At my silence Sgaeyl bends down, her head level with mine, and shakes it side to side like a wet dog.
“Uck!” I grunt, leaping backward as freezing water droplets shower me.
I glare up at her, ringing the water out of my hair. “I’m fine, Sgaeyl. She’s fine, and I’m fine, and I don't need to discuss it any further.”
“Mmmm.” She hums patronizingly.
Garrick lands not long after, Emery and Heaton following behind.
“Gods above Xaden, when I think you and Sgayel are as good as you can be…” Heaton trails off, shaking their head.
“Not good enough.” I grunt and then turn to Heaton with a small smile. “Thanks.”
Sgaeyl pushes her snout against my chest, “Talk to her, Dark One. You may find you are less…discontented.” and then she’s off, gliding up into the sleet-streaked sky.
I walk back with Garrick and Heaton flanking me, Emery staying behind to discuss something with Professor Carr.
“I need to find someone who can make me a set of daggers with specific dimensions. Know anyone?” I glance at each of them.
Garrick cocks an eyebrow, “For what?”
“So you know someone?” I ask, ignoring the question.
“No, I don’t.” Garrick dips his chin in Heaton’s direction. “You know anyone?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.” They say apologetically.
Well, shit.
“Wait, actually,” Garrick starts, pausing to think. “Imogen does. She was talking about getting a new dagger before War Games. You know how particular she is about her blades.”
“Perfect. If you see her, tell her to meet me before dinner.”
Garrick nods, and the three of us walk in companionable silence from the flight field back to the citadel.
We’re rounding the corner to the dorms when Liam’s figure comes into focus, sprinting toward us.
Alone.
Dread pounds into my head as he slides to a stop in front of us, “Violet’s on the mat with Jack,” is all he says before we all break into a run.
The sparring gym is in an uproar when we burst through the doors, and my heart stops at the daggers lying abandoned, splatters of blood littering the space around them.
My eyes search wildly for Violet, finding her nowhere.
“They already took her to the infirmary.” Ridoc walks over to us, his mouth in a tight line.
“What happened?” Liam barks, “I told you to watch her!”
Ridoc’s hands fly up in surrender. “What was I supposed to do? We tried to pull him off of her when he started using his powers, but we couldn't even touch them.” His voice is shaky, and there’s genuine guilt on his face.
“Ridoc,” I look at him, and his gaze widens in fear. “Tell me what happened.”
…
The infirmary is quiet, save for Violet’s soft breathing from where she sleeps in the cot next to me.
Garrick tried for a half hour to convince me to come to dinner, but my anxiety hasn’t let me move from this spot.
She’d been tortured. Tairn showed Sgaeyl and I both exactly what happened in those moments before I’d arrived. The way Violet had seized at Jack’s touch, the screams and the pain that was so real and so violent even Tairn couldn’t quite shake it in the hours following.
I run my hands through my hair, tugging the dark strands at the memory of Violet’s screaming, a resounding cry that plays over and over in my head.
I’m getting fidgety the longer she spends asleep.
I unsheathe a dagger from my hip and flick it, end over end, inhaling and exhaling to the time of each flip of the blade.
“Can Tairn feel her?” I ask Sgaeyl, too anxious to keep the question at bay any longer.
“She is asleep, Xaden.” She responds irritably. Despite my closed lip policy regarding Violet, Sgaeyl hasn’t exactly made her feelings private.
I glare at Violet’s sleeping figure, bristling at my dragon’s icy tone.“What would you have me do in this situation, Sgaeyl? Do you want me to make it official? Give her a damn ring? Make her some empty promises about a lifetime together? Convince her I’m not the same man who threatened to kill her six months ago? Why are you so content to give me a hard time about this?” I rant.
Sgaeyl snorts, an angry sound. “I would have you stop acting like a featherling and talk to the girl.”
“Andaranaum would like to note that even featherlings have a higher emotional capability than that.” Tairn interrupts.
Oh good, months of almost zero contact from Tairn directly, and now he decides to chime in.
Violet’s eyes blink open, and I banish them both from my mind.
I’m still flipping the dagger when she turns her head to look at me. I sheathe the knife and look into her eyes. “Oranges?”
Violet moves to sit, wincing as she tries to put weight on her bad arm. “How many stitches?” She asks, grimacing.
“Eleven on one side and nineteen on the other.” I answer, leaning forward to prop my forearms on my elbows. “You turned oranges into a weapon, Violence?”
She shimmies her way up into a sitting position and shrugs nonchalantly like she didn’t use a common fucking fruit to poison a man. “I worked with what I had.”
“Seeing as it kept you alive–kept us alive–I can’t really argue, and I’m not going to ask how it is you always know who you’ll end up challenging.” My voice has an angry edge, but I’m too relieved to see her with her eyes open to be truly angry anymore. “Telling Ridoc allowed Emetterio to get him here in time. Unfortunately, he’s five beds down from you, and he’ll likely live, unlike the second-year a row over. You could have killed him and saved us all a lot of drama.”
“I didn’t want to kill him.” She rolls her shoulder, her face twitching in discomfort. “I just wanted him to stop killing me.”
“You should have told me.” The words burst from my lips, angry again at her foolish charity.
“And you could have done nothing about it besides make me look weak.” She counters, and I know it’s true, but I can’t seem to make myself care.
“And you haven’t exactly been around to talk about anything in weeks. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that kiss scared you.”
The words feel like a gust of hot air.
“That’s not up for discussion.” I snap, fighting the urge to blush. To fucking blush.
“Seriously?” She questions, disbelief coloring her tone.
Fine. If she wants to have this conversation in the infirmary with thirty stitches in her body, then I’ll oblige. “It was a mistake. You and I are going to be stationed together for the rest of our lives, never able to escape the other. Getting involved–even on a physical level–is a colossal blunder. No point talking about it.”
She stares at me cooly for a long moment. “What if I want to talk about it?”
“Then feel free, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a part of the conversation. We’re both allowed our boundaries, and this is one of mine. I’ll agree that keeping my distance didn’t work out so well, and if today’s little stunt was about getting my attention, then congratulations.” I glare at her. “It’s yours.”
She scoffs and swings her legs to the side of the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glances around for her boots.
“Apparently, I can’t trust Liam to report deadly situations or Rhiannon to train you on the mat, seeing how easily Barlowe had you pinned. As of this moment, I’m taking over.”
“Taking over what?” Violet asks suspiciously.
“Everything when it comes to you.”
…
The next morning Imogen deposits a dozen beautifully curated daggers onto my desk. I pick one up, examining the pommel and testing the weight of the blade.
Imogen raises a brow, “They’re good, right?”
I twist the knife in my hand, the light glinting off of the sharply honed blade. “Perfect.”
…
An hour later, armed with Violet’s new daggers, we face each other on the mat.
“Leave your blades off the mat.” I command, and she has the nerve to look suspicious.
“But you’re armed.”
“You either trust me or you don’t.” I counter, tilting my head in question.
Her eyes trail along my neck, and her expression heats, sending my mind careening down a path I’ve been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.
The feel of her fingers trailing along my skin, tracing the lines of the rebellion tattoo etched into it.
She blows out a breath and steps off the mat, discarding an assortment of daggers.
“I’m unarmed. Happy now?” She turns to face me, grimacing in pain. “Though we probably could have waited a couple days for my arm to heal up before doing this.”
“No.” I shake my head, unsheathing a dagger, and stalk toward her. “The enemy doesn’t give a shit if you’re wounded. They’ll use it to their advantage. If you don’t know how to fight in pain, then you’ll get us both killed.”
“Fine.” Violet conceded. “That’s actually a good point, so I'll let you have it.”
“Thank you for being so gracious.” I smile mockingly, “The problem isn’t necessarily your fighting style.” I flip my palm up and open my fist, showing her the dagger. “You’re fast, and you’ve become pretty damned formidable since August. The problem is you’re using daggers that are too easy to pluck out of your hands. You need weaponry designed for your body type.”
She looks down at the blade between us. It’s designed in the Tyrrish style, runes and intricate swirls covering the hilt. “It’s spectacular.”
“It’s yours.”
Her head snaps up and there’s genuine surprise and delight in her face.
“I had it made for you.” I give her a small smile.
“What?” She asks, her mouth falling open and brows knitting together.
“You heard me. Take it.” She lifts the blade out of my hand and holds it up in front of her, tilting the blade, weighing it in her hand. “Who made it?” She asks.
“I know someone.”
“In the quadrant?” Her eyebrows raise.
“You’d be surprised how resourceful you get after three years here.” A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. It makes me….happy, to do something like this. To give her an advantage where there was none. To give Violet something that was made with her in mind.
Violet stares at me blankly for a heartbeat and then looks back down at the dagger. “It’s incredible.” She says before handing it back to me, shaking her head. “But you know I can’t take it. The only weapons we’re allowed to have are the ones we earn.”
“Exactly.” I say, a playful smile flashing across my face before I snake my foot between hers and lock it behind her ankle, bringing her to the mat with a quick sweep of my leg, going down with her so she’s pinned beneath me.
We’re face to face now, Violet’s eyes like a brand as she looks up at me. “And what point are you making with this little move?” She asks, mischief dancing across her features.
“There are a dozen of these daggers strapped to my body, so start disarming me.” I lift my brow in challenge. “Unless you don’t know how to handle an opponent on top of you, and if so, that’s a whole other issue.”
The words are out of my mouth before I catch the double meaning behind them.
“I know how to handle you on top of me,” Violet whispers, her eyes flaring.
I’m treading on dangerous ground, but if Violence wants to play, I’ll play.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “You won’t like what happens if you push me.”
“Or maybe I will.” She turns her head and her lips brush against my ear at the last word, her hot breath caressing the sensitive skin.
I jerk up at the sensation, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. Oh, Violence wants to play, and she came prepared. “Disarm me before I test that theory in front of everyone in this gym.” I threaten.
“Interesting. I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.”
“Keep pushing, and I guess you’ll find out.” My eyes drop to her mouth, remembering the heat of her lips against mine.
“I thought you said kissing me was a mistake.” She counters, her breathing ragged.
“It was.” I smirk. “I’m just teaching you that blades aren’t the only way to disarm an opponent. Tell me, Violence, are you disarmed?”
She scoffs, not deigning to respond and starts slowly pulling the knives out of their sheaths, tossing them across the mat as I lay above her unmoving.
Our eyes stay locked on each other until the last of the daggers strapped to my chest are gone. Then she puts her legs around my hips and pushes us into a roll, her body coming to rest on top of mine, and every rational thought eddies from my brain at her weight on top of me.
She throws her forearm against my collarbone to hold me in place, and takes the rest of the daggers from their sheaths at my side.
“And lastly,” She says with a taunting smile, leaning forward so that our bodies are touching nearly everywhere, and snatches the remaining dagger out of my hand. “Thank you.”
I plant my palms into the mat and shove, pulling at the shadows to force me up, throwing Violet onto her back, and pinning myself on top of her.
Her breath comes out in a woosh. “That’s.” She sucks in a breath. “Not fair to use your powers on the mat.”
“That’s the other thing.” I say jumping to my feet and reaching my hand out to help pull her to her feet. “Emertterio doesn’t allow powers in order to level the playing field when it comes to challenges. But out there? The field is anything but level, and you need to learn to use whatever you’ve got.”
“I can’t do much besides ground, shield, and move a piece of parchment.” She grumbles, sheathing her dagger and then leaning down to collect the rest.
“Well, looks like we’re going to have to work on that, too.” I sigh, another thing to add to my ever growing list of responsibilities.
I stand with my feet in a defensive position. “Now, earn your nickname and try your best to kill me.”
#fourth wing#xaden riorson#fanfiction#violet and xaden#violet sorrengail#xadenviolet#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#dain aetos#andarnanurran#violet and tairn#tairneanach#tairn#tairn and andarna#andarna#xaden and sgaeyl#mira sorrengail
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 16
Hours later, I walk through the secret tunnel to the flight field with Garrick and Bodi. Another successful weapons drop completed. The night air is crisp, the day ending as peacefully as it began. There’s a light breeze that has me tempted to go back to Sgaeyl and lazily soar until the sun peeks out from the horizon. But I’m dead on my feet. My mind aches from the constant overexertion.
Even my power has limits.
A deep, guttural roar fills my mind, freezing me in place for a moment.
“XADEN MOVE, NOW!” Sgaeyl’s voice booms through my mind, and I break into a run, flying past Bodi and Garrick without explanation.
“Violet?” I ask, jaw clenched as I fly down the hall, shadows shoving me forward.
I can hear Garrick and Bodhi’s footsteps behind me as they sprint down the hall after me.
“Faster, Xaden. There are unbonded in her room.” She says it calmly, her tone going back to her usual commanding softness, but she used my first name, an immediate tell that she is far from calm.
I will my shadows to push faster, pulling more from the cracks and crevices around me, hoarding them as I prepare for whatever situation I’m about to walk into.
My stomach bottoms out.
What will I find?
When I enter that room, what will I find? She can’t be dead; I would know by now.
Or…also be dead.
I push towards Violet's door, shoving shadows into it with enough force that it slams open, wood splintering as it hits the stone wall.
I sweep into the room, and I take in the sight of Violet pressed against Oren, his knife tip poised to slit her throat.
Before my shadows can do more than twitch, Violet is in front of me.
I blink in shock. She didn’t appear to move, and yet she went from being trapped in Oren’s hold to standing in front of me. It’s like she was dropped down without moving a muscle.
I snap my fingers, summoning mage lights. I want them to see me clearly as I kill them.
I examine the group of unbonded cadets.
“You’re all fucking dead.”
There’s something unfamiliar leaking into my veins. Every thought shoved behind an almost possessive, instinctual level of protection. Violet is mine, and I will gladly kill anyone who threatens her.
Every head in the room turns.
“Riorson!” Oren’s eyes go wide and his knife clatters to the floor.
“You think surrendering will save you?” My rage has tempered into something calm, a smoldering fire, as my mind focuses on the shadows that are quietly winding their way around the room.
Oren puts his hands up in surrender, “But you know he never should have bonded her! You, of all people, have reason enough to want the weakling dead. We’re just correcting a mistake.”
My rage flares into something bright and lethal. “Dragons don’t make mistakes.”
The shadows swirl on the ground, so silent that the unbonded are unaware of the death that rapidly approaches.
The shadows snap up so fast that no one registers what’s happened. They curl themselves around every assailant, twisting up their throats and tightening until their faces turn purple and their bodies go limp.
In unison the bodies fall to the floor with a muffled thud.
My eyes flicker with satisfaction as their bodies fall to the floor. A punishment befitting the crime.
And I am the executioner.
Oren is the only one still standing.
I walk forward, each slow step quiet against the wood floor. My rage has turned into a living thing that’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
There’s a palpable fear rolling off of Oren, his earlier posturing crumbling as a single tendril of shadow lifts Violet’s dagger off the floor.
“Let me explain,” he begs.
“I’ve heard everything I need to hear,” I say, my voice quiet and even.
The dagger drops into my waiting palm.
My fingers curl around the hilt and Oren’s breath hitches. “She should have killed you in the field, but she’s merciful. That is not a flaw I possess.”
I flick the knife across his throat, a red line blooming in its wake before the blood begins pouring from his jugular.
He scrabbles for his throat, his hands growing slick with blood before he drops into a heap on the floor.
I can feel Garrick behind me as he slides to a stop at the door, “Damn, Xaden,” he says, looking over the carnage. “No time for questioning?” There’s a touch of confusion in his voice as his eyes scan the room, noting.
It is atypical for me. This messy, brutal killing. Garrick knows I'm efficient, that I kill quickly, but I’m far more methodical, clean, and precise when I have to kill.
“No need for it,” I counter quickly, turning to Bodhi as he crosses the threshold.
Violet burst into a laughter tinged with subtle hysteria and all three of us look at her like she’s completely lost it.
She’s in shock.
I curse myself for not thinking about it sooner. She needs to get out of this room, but first I need to see where she’s hurt. Make sure she hasn’t sustained any injuries too severe.
“Let me guess,” Bodhi says, rubbing the back of his neck, “we’re on cleanup?”
I nod. “Call in help if you need it.”
They both walk farther into the room, pick up a body, and silently walk out.
“I'm alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.” Violet’s voice is a panicked whisper in my mind.
“Yes. You’re alive.” I bend over, yanking one of her daggers out of a first-year’s shoulder.
“I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.” Her voice trembles slightly on that last word, and I look over at her, not bothering to correct her.
Violet’s face has gone a sickly shade of green; her lips pressed together in a tight line as her body begins shaking.
I quickly rummage through her drawers, snatching up a set of clean clothes before grabbing her boots and cloak from the wall hook.
“It’s the shock,” I say absentmindedly, my mind sorting through what needs to be done. “Are you hurt?”
Her breathing has turned jagged, stilted as the pain has settled, the adrenaline fading.
Now is not the time for a breakdown. “Come on, Violence.” I walk over towards her, dropping her boots on the floor and throwing her cloak on the armchair to free my hands. “Pull your shit together and tell me where you’re hurt.” She looks down at the floor pulling in shallow breaths.
I cup her chin in my thumb and index finger, tilting her gaze up towards me. Our eyes lock and panic floods through me as I look into her eyes.
I was so close to losing it all.
I was so close to losing her today.
I shove the panic out of my mind, a solid wall springing up to keep it from returning.
“You’re breathing like crap, so I’m guessing it has to do with–”
“My ribs,” she says, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “The one by the bed hit the side of my ribs with the sword, but I think they’re just bruised.”
“Must have been a dull sword.” I raise an eyebrow. “Unless it has something to do with why you sleep in your leather vest.”
She hesitates and then turns, lifting her arm up to expose a hole in the bodice of her nightdress.
“It’s dragon-scale. Mira made it for me. It’s why I’ve lived this long.”
I feel a pang of annoyance at her words. Her constant downplaying of her skill sets and her inability to believe that she is fully capable will be what gets her killed more than anything.
I nod. “Ingenious, though I’d say there are multiple reasons for why you’ve made it this far.”
I give her another once over, cataloging every injury.
My stomach twists as I glance at the purple fingerprints sprawled across her neck, and I have to swallow the fear and anger that have started to follow me wherever I go. “I should’ve killed him slower.”
“I’m fine.”
I raise my eyes to meet hers, glaring. “Never lie to me.” I grit my teeth.
I am at the edge of a cliff I don’t want to be on.
“It hurts,” she admits quietly.
“Let me see.”
She opens and shuts her mouth twice. “Is that a request or a demand?”
This gods damn woman.
“Your pick as long as I get to see if that fucker broke your ribs,” I ground out.
Conan and Eoin walk into the room, Garrick and Bodhi behind them.
“Take these two, and we’ll get the last ones,” Garrick orders, slinging two of the limp bodies over his shoulder before they all walk out the door.
“Thank you,” I call after them.
I shut the door with a flick of my fingers and turn to Violet. “Now, let me see your ribs. We’re wasting time.”
She swallows audibly and nods. She turns her back to me and shrugs out of her nightgown just enough to expose her back.
The dragon-scale armor is impeccably made, the strings of the corset allowing it to mold to the exact shape of Violet’s body.
“You’ll have to–”
“I know how to handle a corset,” I cut her off. My mind has become a tangle of unrelenting thoughts as I realize that I’m about to undress this woman.
I grit my teeth, trying to shove down the hunger that’s coursing through me at the sight of the silver strands of her hair hanging in loose waves down the middle of her back.
I keep my hands steady, slipping her hair out of the way.
I brush my fingertips over her bare shoulder, relishing in the soft warmth radiating off of her skin.
Her breath hitches at my touch, and I remind myself again that I’m the monster in her story. I am not someone capable of giving her what she deserves. And Violet’s certainly not someone who should want me the way I do her.
Even if I can sometimes see that same hunger reflected in her own eyes.
The energy in the room has become a living thing, a flow of electricity and heat that’s sucking all of the oxygen from the air.
“How the hell do you get yourself into this thing every morning?” I ask, continuing to pull at the corset strings. My voice is low and raspy, and I swallow the lump in my throat, in an attempt to break the tension that’s radiating between our bodies.
“I’m freakishly flexible. It’s part of the whole bones-snapping, joint-tearing thing,” she answers over her shoulder.
She looks up over her shoulder at me, and the sliver of space between us goes taut.
I look away before I can do anything stupid.
I’m checking her for injuries, not trying to fuck her.
My mind wants to wander at the thought, and I rein in my overactive imagination.
I lower my gaze, and any sexual desire I’m feeling eddies out of my mind as I take in her ribs, a large angry bruise covering her right side.
I glide my fingers across each bone, prodding gently as I deduce how much pain she’s in.
There are no protrusions from broken bones or an extreme level of pain response, thank the Gods. “You have one hell of a bruise, but I don’t think they’re broken.”
“That’s what I thought. Thank you for checking.” There’s genuine gratitude in her voice. I lace her corset up quickly so I’m not tempted to stroke my fingers over every inch of bare skin.
“You’ll live. Turn around.”
Violet turns, pulling her nightdress up her shoulders.
I bend down onto my knees, and she stiffens imperceptibly. It takes every ounce of willpower not to look up at her from my position on the floor and read whatever’s on her face.
“You’re going to have to walk through the pain, and we have to do it fast.” I reach over to grab her boot, then tap on her foot. “Can you lift it up?”
She lifts her foot for me, and I slip on her boots, lacing them up tightly.
Standing, I grab her cloak off of the armchair. “Let’s go.” I wrap the cloak around her stiff shoulders, standing in front of her to button the collar like wrapping her in this extra layer might protect her further.
My gaze lingers on her face as I reach around to grasp the hood of her cloak, fingers brushing over her hair. There’s an almost uncontrollable need to run my hands through the silver strands. My fingers twitch imperceptibly and I blink away the impulse, tugging her hood over her head and obscuring her hair from sight.
I grasp her hand, curling my fingers over hers, and tug her out of the room. The hallway is dead quiet.
Violet’s voice permeates the silence. “Where are we going?”
I cut my eyes at her, annoyed. “Keep talking loud enough for the others to hear, and someone will stop us before we get anywhere.”
“Can’t you just hide us in the shadows or something?”
“Sure, because a giant black cloud moving down the hallway isn't going to look more suspicious than a couple sneaking around.” The word is out of my mouth before I can realize what I’ve said.
Couple.
There’s something so normal in our easy banter, in the way we fall into step together, hands clasped between us, that made the word bubble up to my lips. Two people liking each other, both claiming the other out in the open.
A far cry from the current reality we’re in where Violet is covered in bruises, and there are bodies that haven’t even gone cold, and she hates me, and she’s my sworn enemy, and a dozen other reasons it’s not possible.
The scuff of our boots is the only sound as we round the corner of the academic wing. Violet starts to turn left, and I have to tug her arm to redirect her towards the steps leading down to storage.
She trails behind me, keeping quiet until we reach the passageway hidden in the stone wall.
I conjure a bit of power, revealing the door with a click, and swing it open to reveal a dark tunnel
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” I tease in a whisper, pulling her inside. The door closes and the space around us descends into pure darkness.
“But just in case you are,” my voice returns to a regular volume, and with a quick snap of my fingers, mage lights pop up above our head, illuminating the tunnel. “Thanks.” Violet sighs in relief.
I drop her hand and walk deeper into the tunnel at a brisk pace. “Keep up,” I order over my shoulder.
“You could–” Violet starts before her breath hitches in obvious pain, “be a little more considerate.”
“I’m not going to baby you like Aetos does,” I scoff, my back still to her. “That’s only going to get you killed once we get out of Basgiath.”
“He doesn’t baby me.”
“He does, and you know it. You hate it, too, if the vibe I’m picking up on is any indication.”
I slow my pace anyway, falling back to walk by her side. “Or did I read that wrong?”
“He thinks this place is too dangerous for someone…like me, and after what just happened, I’m not sure I can really argue with him.” Violet’s voice fades for a heartbeat, lost in thought. “I don’t think I’ll bother sleeping again.” She shoots an accusatory look at me. “And if you even think about suggesting that you sleep with me for safety from now on–”
I scoff, shutting that visual down before my imagination can start to unravel. “Hardly. I don’t fuck-first years–even when I was one–let alone…you.”
“Liar.” Sgaeyl’s voice whispers through my head.
“Are you fucking serious right now? You’ve been quiet for the last hour, and you want to jump into the conversation now?”
Sgaeyl,chortles.
“Who said anything about fucking?” She fires back, her face wrinkling with disgust. “I’d have to be a masochist to sleep with you, and I can assure you, I’m not.”
“Masochist, huh?” The corner of my mouth quirks into a smirk. Violet isn’t too far from being a Masochist, really. A fact I am too willing to play with.
My mind is filthy.
“You hardly give off snuggly morning-after vibes.” She smiles, and my chest expands at the realness of it. “Unless you’re worried about me killing you while we sleep.
Violet, her body on top of mine, straddling my sleeping body, a dagger pointed at my throat pops into my mind. I’d like to pretend that the image of it doesn’t have my heart racing.
The hard on pressing against the waistband of my flight leathers begs to differ.
“Do you need to be reminded again, my Shadow?
I blink once, turning the subject towards something other than the idea of sleeping with Violet.
“I have zero concern about that. As violent as you are and skilled with those daggers, I’m not even sure you could kill a fly. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you managed to wound three of them and never went for a kill shot.” I give her a look, my eyes narrowing in disapproval.
She doesn’t meet my eyes, “I’ve never killed anyone.” Violet says in a breathy whisper.
“You’re going to have to get over that. All we are after graduation are weapons, and it’s best if we’re honed before leaving the gates.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide. “Is that where we’re going? Are we leaving the gates?”
“We’re going to ask Tairn what the hell just happened.” the anger that I’d pushed down is bubbling up to the surface. “And I’m not talking about the attack. How the hell did they get past your locks?”
She gives me a halfhearted shrug, keeping her eyes ahead.
“We’d better figure it out so it doesn’t happen again. I refuse to sleep on your fucking floor like some kind of guard dog.
“Wait. This is another way to the flight field?”
“Yes. It’s not common knowledge. And I’m going to ask you to tuck this little tunnel into the file of secrets you keep on my behalf.”
She glances up, giving me a knowing look. “Let me guess, and you’ll know if I tell?”
“Yes.” I smile at the back and forth between the two of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her gazing up at me, but before I can turn to look at her, she’s turned her head back to face forward.
“Are you going to promise me another favor?” Her breathing grows stilted and labored as the path steadily inclines.
“Having one of my favors is more than enough, and we’ve already reached mutually assured destruction status, Sorrengail.” Now, can you push through it, or do you need me to carry you?” I ask in mock concern as she starts to lag behind
“That sounds like an insult, not an offer.” Violet scowls up at me.
“You’re catching on.” I hit back but slow my pace until I’m walking by her side.
Her face has gone pale, and a cold sweat is starting at her temples. Her head and shoulders sway as if a gust of wind has blown past her. Her steps turn wobbly and slow.
I wrap my arm around Violet’s waist, pulling her against me. She makes no objections, allowing me to help steady her shaking body.
“What were you doing tonight anyways?”
“What makes you ask?” I counter, my voice turning into a warning.
“You made it to my room within minutes, and you’re not exactly dressed for sleeping.” She glances at the sword strapped against my back.
“Maybe I sleep in my armor, too”
“Then you should pick more trustworthy bedmates.”
I snort, stifling a laugh. I can’t control the grin that spreads across my face at this woman in front of me. She plays with me; she takes what I throw at her and hurls it back with her full might. She irritates me, she turns me on, she–
My smile vanishes in a heartbeat.
The unkind reality of it all is that she is Violet Sorrengail, and I am Xaden Riorson.
She hates me, and I want to kill her.
And it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#tairneanach#andarnanurran#andarna#dain aetos#tairn
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 13
Liam and I pull our gazes away from the sky, and I scan the crowd for Violet.
She’s standing in the middle of the field with a broad grin on her face. A moment later she disappears behind a wall of people as Rhiannon and Ridoc clamber over to her, enveloping her in tight hugs filled with bright, joyful celebration.
Despite the absolute shit show that was today, my lips twitch up into a fraction of a smile at the scene playing out before me.
Violet did something incredible today and she deserves to be celebrated and cared for.
Even if her existence is the cause of my ever growing state of anger and panic.
Liam claps me on the shoulder and lets out an exasperated chuckle, “This is going to be very interesting, I take it. I’ll see you soon, brother.” I mumble a goodbye and then he’s walking away, hands in his pockets and head held high.
Just as Violet deserves that joy, so does my brother, with his quiet confidence and caring heart. I smile at his back.
He’s turning into a leader.
The kind that people will go to war for.
A leader worthy of the title.
One day we’ll lead together.
I turn my attention back to Violet just as Dain marches toward the group, worry lining his face.
He reaches for Violet’s shoulders and I watch as he crushes her against his chest.
Her body goes rigid at his touch for just a moment before she melts into his arms.
She twines her arms around him and they hold each other in silence, wrapped up in a world where no one else exists. There’s relief in her every breath; an undeniable sense of safety in his presence.
Something bitter coats my tongue. Something acidic, and burning, and nauseating is rising within me at the sight of them standing in their false security. Pretending that he can offer her any kind of protection.
He pulls away to observe the meager remainder of his squad. Four out of nine is better than none, but I wonder if there would be more if he’d spent the last few months training them for survival instead of attempting to smuggle Violet to the Scribe’s Quadrant against her will. Dain grabs Violet’s hand and she turns, her gaze sweeping across the field, assessing something.
As if I’d called out her name, Violet’s eyes land on mine. A shudder runs through me at the weight in her gaze, the strength in those eyes that wasn’t there a few months ago.
There’s a small sense of satisfaction at the way her eyes seem to always find mine, like she knows when I’m around, like she can feel me the way I can her.
With a tug, Dain pulls her gaze away from me and ushers her to the edge of the field, in the shadows beyond the glow of the mage lights.
That quickly, Dain has put them both in danger. A danger he should be anticipating. He’s getting sloppy. His desperate desire to keep Violet safe is causing problems. He’s fumbling, growing weak.
I slip through the crowd, everyone too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice my movements. I step into a pocket of shadow at the edge of the crowd and reach behind me with both hands, grasping the open air. In one fluid movement, I pull my arms out to the sides and back in front of me, encasing myself in shadow.
I make my way over to where Dain stands with Violet, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly.
With a flick of my fingers, tendrils of shadow glide past me to curl in the spaces where they stand.
My ears to listen.
“–Jack ran away, and then it was just Tynan and I, and he…Dain, he was going to kill me. My body was failing, and there was nothing I could do,” Violet says, her voice ragged.
Rage slams into me and as the events of the day come rushing forward. As I remember her fear and pain, and her Gods damned bravery.
“Right before Tairn landed behind me, I saw Xaden move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a step forward, like he was going to help,” Violet whispers, disbelief in her voice.
That makes two of us.
“Xaden was there,” Dain breathes, his tone cold. She nods, “Yes. But he left after Tairn showed up.”
My footsteps are silent as I reach the pair, standing off to the side, still cloaked in shadow.
“Xaden was there when you defended Andarna, and then Tairn just…showed up?” He asks dimly. I can hear his rusty gears turning from here.
“Yes. That's what I just said.” She narrows her eyes at him in question.
“Don’t you see what happened? What Xaden’s done?” Dain’s voice has an edge of panic. His hands tightens over Violet’s thin shoulders, and I feel that ever-present rage flair in response.
“Please, do tell me what it is you think I’ve done.” Boredom laces my words, and I step out of a pocket in the shadows, meeting their surprised stares.
Dain recovers quickly, removing his hands from Violet and putting himself between us. “You manipulated Threshing.”
Violet’s eyes go wide with shock. “Dain, that’s..”
Impossible? Unrealistic? Completely and utterly idiotic?
Yes, Violet, I agree.
Not only am I now completely tied to Violet, but I’m also required to interact with her asinine little bodyguard.
“Is that an official accusation?”
“Did you step in?” Dain demands.
“Did I what?” I ask, my brow shooting up in disbelief. “Did I see her outnumbered and already wounded?” I can feel that rage simmering underneath my skin rising closer and closer to the surfacec.
Fuck Dain, fuck those pricks in the clearing, and fuck this whole godsdamn day. “Did I think her bravery was as admirable as it was fucking reckless?”
My eyes land on Violet’s, and she doesn’t blanch from the anger that’s leaching out of my body, stealing the air from around us.
“And I would do it again.” She lifts her chin, eyes full of defiance.
Of course she would. This mix of anger and fear and care and irritation all directed at the woman before me has my rage reaching a boiling point.
“Well-the-fuck-aware,” I roar at her. Our eyes are still locked on each other, and I can feel the shock that moves through both of us at my outburst. Something crackles in the space between us, something electric and fierce in its nature.
I pull my gaze away from hers before I can get lost in it.
“Did I see her fight off three bigger cadets?” I glare at Dain. “Because the answer to all of those is yes. But you’re asking the wrong question, Aetos. What you should be asking is if Sgaeyl saw it, too.”
Dain’s throat bobs and he breaks his stare. Good. It’s exhausting being the smartest person in the room at all times, but this is particularly exhausting because Dain is clearly living in a state of utter delusion and has been since Violet got here.
“His mate told him,” Violet whispers next to me.
I turn to her, Dain’s existence disappearing as we look at each other. “She’s never been a fan of bullies. But don’t mistake it as an act of kindness toward you. She’s fond of the little dragon.” I pause, grimacing. “Unfortunately, Tairn chose you all on his own.”
“Fuck,” Dain says under his breath.
“My thoughts exactly.” I shake my head in irritation. “Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I’d ever want to be chained to me. I didn’t do this.”
It’s not a lie. Being chained to her means all the work I’ve done to erase her from my thoughts is melting. As if she was even gone in the first place. It was getting better at the very least.
She makes things complicated where Brennan is concerned. She poses a risk to Athebyne and, therefore, my people, no matter what my suspicions are about where her allegiance lies. I don’t even want to touch the physical aspect of all of this. The heat that flows between us, even in anger and irritation. The way my stomach drops when her eyes are on me.
From the corner of my eye, I can see the way Violet has stiffened, and the subtle flash of hurt that crosses her expression gives me pause. Guilt snakes its way into my chest.
And confusion. I am so utterly confused.
I refocus on the conversation before me, taking a step toward Dain so that he has to crane his neck a bit to look me in the eye. “And even if I had, would you really level that accusation knowing it would have been what saved the woman you call your best friend?” The woman I think he might love. Or as close as he can come to it.
Violet is still ramrod straight, stuck in the middle of a power struggle between Aetos and I.
“There are…rules.”
“And out of curiosity, would you have, let’s say, bent those rules to save your precious little Violet in that field?” I study his face, looking for the answer, knowing it anyway. Yet, I’m still hoping for Violet’s sake that his answer will be different.
A muscle spasms in Dain’s jaw as he stands in front of me, dead silent.
“That’s unfair to ask him,” Violet scolds as she moves to stand at Dain’s side. A tentative line in the sand.
But I want to hear him say it. I want to hear the words land for what they are. His hideous truth. “I'm ordering you to answer, squad leader.”
The beat of immense wings begins sounding in the distance.
His throat bobs and he shuts his eyes, a mockery of shame. “No. I wouldn’t have.”
I scoff, utterly disgusted at the disrespect and the disloyalty that he displays again and again.
Dain turns to Violet, “It would have killed me to watch something happen to you, Vi, but the rules–”
“It’s all right,” she responds a little too slowly, cutting him off.
It’s not alright, not at all. “The dragons are returning; get back to formation, squad leader.” I order, nodding my head to the line of higher-ups reforming at the edge of the dais.
Violet doesn’t take her eyes off of Dain as he walks away, and without a backward glance, the prick disappears into the crowd.
The second he’s out of sight, she whirls on me, “Why would you do that to him?” She pauses and shakes her head. “Forget it,” she mutters, face and body dipping in utter defeat.
She turns on her heel and tries to walk away from me, rage and something else–hurt? – echoing in every footfall.
In two strides, I’m by her side, walking in unison. “Because you put too much faith in him, and knowing who to trust is the only thing that will keep you alive – keep us alive – not only in the quadrant but after graduation.”
The crowd is moving quickly, making room for dragons as they land, rushing toward their own. “There is no us,” she bites back.
A rider comes barreling toward us, and I haul her by her elbow out of his path. Our bodies are touching, and I realize we haven’t been this close since that night in the courtyard. I murmur in her ear, “Oh, I think you’ll find that’s no longer the case. Tairn’s bonds are so powerful, both to mate and rider, because he’s so powerful. Losing his last rider nearly killed him, which, in turn, nearly killed Sgaeyl. Mated pairs’ lives are–”
“Interdependent, I know that.”
“Each time a dragon chooses a rider, that bond is stronger than the last, which means that if you die, Violence, it sets off a chain of events that potentially ends with me dying, too.”
I’m raging again. Everything is compounding on each other: Violet’s attack, the fear that came with it, fighting every urge and instinct and desire for a woman who is not forever tied to me, Dain’s lack of care. It’s becoming too much.
“And now that Tairn is in play, the other cadets know he’s willing to bond.” Malek help me, this is going to be an absolute headache.
I blow out a sigh and turn away from Violet, needing a moment to compose myself before her eyes that see too much.
A sigh escapes my lips and I turn from Violet, needing a moment to compose myself, to look away from her eyes that see too much.
“That’s why Tairn told me to stay with you,” she whispers. “Because of the unbonded.”
We both glance to the outer rim of the field where the forty-one unbonded riders stand, all eyes trained on us.
Including Oren Seifret, whose bruised face is contorted in a sneer of rage.
“The unbonded are going to try to kill you in hopes they’ll get Tairn to bond them.”
Garrick appears between a pocket of riders and strides towards me, his face grim.
I shake my head, and he looks from me to Violet, realizing who stands beside me, and walks in the other direction across the field.
“Tairn is one of the strongest dragons on the Continent, and the vast power he channels is about to be yours. In the next few months, the unbonded will try to kill a newly paired rider while the bond is weak, while they still have a chance of that dragon changing its mind and picking them so they’re not set back a full year. And for Tairn? They’ll do just about anything.”
I can’t contain the dramatic sigh that comes out of me. I’m exhausted. I spend more days than not tired. I’m so tired, and there is no reprieve, no break from the path in front of me.
“And Tairn thinks you’ll play bodyguard.” Violet snorts in false amusement. “Little does he know just how much you dislike me.”
“He knows exactly how much I value my own life,” I snap, turning to face her. My eyes catch on the silver strands of hair that have come undone, and I can’t help the way my gaze travels down her body, my simmering anger turning into a heat of another kind.
She’s eerily unperturbed, if not flat out dismissive of the threat on her life. “You’re freakishly calm for someone who just heard she’s about to be hunted.”
Violet shrugs, unfazed. “It’s a typical Wednesday for me, and honestly, being hunted by forty-one people is a lot less intimidating than constantly watching dark corners for you.”
There’s a part of me that, through the anger, wants to strip her bare before me.
I want to worship Violet’s body in the dark. To use my mouth to please her, run my tongue along every curve, and caress her with every shadow I have within me. I want to be the one to make her moan, to make her cum.
“Walk away before you do something regrettable, Dark One.” Sgaeyl’s voice shatters the tumble of thoughts rolling through my head.
As if compelled, I turn away from Violet and walk towards Sgaeyl without another word.
It takes every ounce of willpower to put one foot in front of the other until I’ve made it to my dragon’s side.
Tucking myself into the crook of Sgaey’ls wing, I run my fingers through my hair, and pull in several ragged breaths as I struggle to regain control of my mind and body.
A hush falls over the crowd as General Melgren moves toward the front of the dais. Codagh, his brute of a dragon, is standing close by, monitoring the crowd with black beady eyes.
“Codagh has relayed that the dragons have spoken regarding the Sorrengail girl. While tradition has shown us that there is one rider for every dragon, there has never been a case of two dragons selecting the same rider, and therefore there is no dragon law against it,” he declares. “While we riders may not feel as though this is… equitable, dragons make their own laws.” His voice drips with disdain. “Both Tairn and…” He looks over his shoulder, and his aide rushes forward to whisper in his ear. “Andarna have chosen Violet Sorrengail, and so their choice stands.”
The crowd murmurs softly until General Sorrengail steps forward for the closing commencement. “First-years,” she pauses, scanning the field full of new riders and their bonded dragons, “you have made it past the Gauntlet, and now stand here ready to begin training as Navarre’s most elite fighters. Protectors of the Continent.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I swing my gaze over to Violet. She’s staring at me intently, questions and curiosities running through her eyes. I study her for a heartbeat and then raise my pointer finger. Lest she forget what she now is in this Quadrant. Not a warrior, not a protector.
Right now she is target number one.
“Welcome to a family that knows no boundaries, no limits, and no end. Riders, step forward.” It’s silent on the field as the first-years take their five steps toward their new positions. I spot Liam in the crowd and a smile blooms on my face at the sight of his joyful, triumphant face.
“Dragons, it is our honor as always,” General Sorrengail finishes with a small bow. “Now we celebrate!”
Moments pass, and there’s a collective noise that spreads across the flight field as rider after rider is branded by their dragon.
My own tattoo spreads across the whole expanse of my scarred back. I know Sgaeyl did it on purpose, to hide as many of the scars as she could behind the great blue dragon twining its way up my back. Fucking softie.
Garrick turns to me, concern flickering in his eyes.
I hold up a hand, “I’m not talking about this right now. Everything’s fine. I’ll brief everyone later on what’s to happen next with Sorrengail.”
I cross my arms and my gaze returns to Violet. My breath catches and my whole body stiffens at the sight of Dain standing behind her, his steady hands slowly unlacing her corset to peer at her relic.
Dain steps to the side and Sgaeyl gives me a glimpse of what Tairn, and Dain, are now seeing.
A silhouette of a black dragon stretches across the uppermost part of her back, the wingtips reaching her shoulders. Smack in the middle is the silhouette of a shimmering golden dragon, its wings outstretched as if in flight; a mirror to the black dragon it is encased by. Protected by.
It takes my breath away. The picture of the woman in front of me, her two dragons by her side.
Two.
The one she protected and the one who protected her.
A fitting match.
Dain laces up her corset and I have to bite down as wave after wave of jealousy ripples through me at the touch of his skin against hers.
He cups both sides of her face, and I wonder what he’s viewing in that touch, if he’d be vile enough to root through her memories without her consent.
They murmur quietly to each other, and I keep the shadows tethered to me. I don’t think I want to know what he’s whispering to her right now
Nausea slams into me as he brushes his thumb over her cheek, eyes fixed on hers. And something crumples in my chest as he leans down and kisses Violet right there in the middle of the damn flight field.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#tairn and sgaeyl#sgaeyl#liam mairi#rhiannon matthias#andarnanurran#andarna#violence sorrengail#tairneanach#dain aetos#tairn
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 20
Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room.
I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?”
I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”
I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.
Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.
I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips.
“Gods, that’s good.”
“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.
“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”
“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”
Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”
“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”
“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”
There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.
“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door.
“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.
Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair.
I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.
I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick.
It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.
He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.
“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.
I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair
“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi.
He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp.
The sensation slams into me like a truck.
My body goes rigid, hands clenching into fists on the table.
My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.
The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.
My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.
Which is, very decidedly, not an option.
Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.
I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.
Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”
“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.
“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”
Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.
I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.
Fucking children.
“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.
“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor.
I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.
“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.
Violet.
“Yea. I will be.”
I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.
Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room.
I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there.
I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.
I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.
Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.
I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.
I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.
A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.
My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell.
She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.
She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.
Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.
“Is that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.
I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.
Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”
“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.
Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.
“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”
Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.
I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.
“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.
For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out.
“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.
“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this.
My nightmare and my daydream.
Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers.
There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.
“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”
“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”
“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”
My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.
She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.”
Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.
The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”
Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of hot, needy desire rocks into us both.
She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.
The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”
“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”
My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.
“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”
Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”
“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath.
“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”
I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.”
Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother.
There’s no choice to be had.
“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”
“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”
“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.
Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”
“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.
“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.
“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts.
“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored.
She rolls her eyes.
“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”
Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately
“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”
She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”
My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.
I come up short.
“Are you always this difficult?”
“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.
“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.
I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”
She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.
She amazes me.
“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”
I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.
As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.
“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.
I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”
I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.
“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”
Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.
“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.
“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”
Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.
“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”
She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.
“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable.
The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks.
I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.
And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”
My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.
Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.
“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.
“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.
Good girl, Violence.
“There you go. Keep going.”
She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration.
I want to put my mouth on her.
“I’ve got the door shut.”
I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.
“Great. Lock it.”
I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.
“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.
“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”
She nods.
“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”
A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.
She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.
“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.
My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.
Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail.
“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.”
“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.
And then she smiles at me.
Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.
My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.
I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in.
And then Garrick’s words hum through me.
“Be smart.”
I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”
“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.
The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.
“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes.
To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control.
“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.
“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.
I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.
There’s none left.
“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine.
I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.
But it’s not enough.
It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access.
She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily.
Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin.
“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine.
She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.
“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.
I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth.
At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.
Dangerous.
My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.
Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.
I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.
She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.
The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.
I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.
Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear.
She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.
I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss.
I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.
There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.
What the fuck.
Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.
She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.
The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.
She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.
I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.
This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.
And me.
Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.
I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.
I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.
“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour.
Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything.
“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.
“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”
Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”
“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”
She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.
She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.
The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#dain aetos#fantasy fanfic#archive of our own#fourth wing fanart#tairneanach#andarnanurran#violet and tairn#andarna#tairn and andarna#violence sorrengail#tairn#xaden and sgaeyl
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 17
“So you’re not going to tell me?” She asks, eyes glazed as pain starts to overwhelm her.
I’m aware of how painful the walk here has been for her with the state she’s in, but there will come a time when her body will struggle to keep going, and her mind will be her only means for survival.
“Nope. Third-year business.” I let go of her waist, and I can still feel the warmth of her body pressed against me, a phantom touch.
The end of the tunnel is solid stone, with no crack or crevice to indicate a doorway. A few deft flicks of my hand, and there’s a click as I push the door open, a blast of cool wind greeting us as we step out into the crisp November air.
“What the hell,” Violet whispers in wonder at the open doorway that appears in the rock.
“It’s camouflaged.” I wave my hand and the door closes, merging back into the rock as if it never existed.
In the sky above, the sound of dragon wings greets our arrival, their figures growing larger as they descend.
Tairn lands and steps towards us, Sgaeyl following behind. She’s tense, every part of her scaled and taloned body tucked in tight.
“We’re fine. I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Stop being a mother hen.”
Sgaeyl’s eyes are on Violet, but her mental growl is directed at me, “Watch yourself, Dark One.” Her voice is humorless in my head.
Tairn’s voice hums through me before I can respond. “I’m guessing the Wingleader wants a word?”
Andarna gallops in between Sgaeyl’s legs, skidding to a stop in front of Violet.
Like a great, serpentine cat, she presses her head into Violet’s ribs, her scaly eyelids closed in concentration. Andarna’s anxiety and fear is strong enough that it flows through all of us.
“No broken bones,” Violet promises, her hand coming to rest on top of Andarna’s spiny head. “They’re just bruised.”
“You’re sure?” I hear her small voice in my own head.
“As sure as I can be.” Violet smiles, but her eyes are lined with pain and her smile comes out as more of a grimace.
“Yes, I want a word. What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to her?” I glare up into Tairn’s ancient eyes.
“None of your business what I choose or do not choose to channel toward my rider,” He answers with a growl.
“He says–” Violet begins.
“I heard him,” I counter, eyes still locked on Tairn’s.
“You what?” She asks incredulously, brows disappearing into her hairline.
I ignore Violet, shouting up at her stubborn dragon. “It absolutely is my business when you expect me to protect her.”
“I got the message to you just fine, human.” Tairn’s patience is becoming razor thin.
“And I barely made it,” I spit out through gritted teeth. “She would have been dead if I’d been thirty seconds later.”
Tairn’s menacing growl pushes into every corner of my mind, “Seems like you had thirty seconds gifted to you.”
“And I’d like to know what the fuck happened in there!” I yell, my voice reverberating through my own head.
Next to me, Violet sucks in a breath. I’m being reckless. More than reckless. But I almost lost everything today, I should’ve lost everything.
I want to know why I didn’t.
“We need to know what happened in that room,” I repeat, cutting my eyes over to Violet before I turn my focus back on Tairn.
It’s damn near suicidal to attempt to poke around in Tairn’s mind, but I’m getting impatient. I start to push inward, finding the string between Sgaeyl and Tairn in the atrium of my mind.
“Do not dare to try and read me, human, or you’ll regret it.” Tairn’s tongue flicks out between his large fangs and I repress the shudder that runs through me.
Violet is instantly in front of me, placing herself between Tairn and I. “He’s just a little freaked out. Don’t scorch him.”
“At least we agree on something.” Sgaeyl exhales a sigh of the long-suffering.
Violet’s gaze slides from Tairn to Sgaeyl, shock and awe written all over her face. “She talked to me.”
“I know. I heard.” Unamused, I fold my arms and give both dragons an irritated glare. “It’s because they’re mates. It’s the same reason I’m chained to you.”
“You make it sound so pleasant.” Violet says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s not.” I turn to face her. “But you and I are exactly that, Violence. We’re chained. Tethered. You die, I die, so I damn well deserve to know how the hell you were under Seifert’s knife one second and across the room in another. Is that the signet power you’ve manifested with Tairn? Come clean. Now.” I hold her gaze, searching for any sign of deception.
“I don’t know what happened,” Violet says simply, and I know she’s telling the truth. She’s just as shaken as I am.
Violet turns to Andarna and stares intently at her for a few moments, then turns back to me repeating Andarna’s words. “Nature likes all things in balance. That’s the first thing we’re taught.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
There’s a brief silence until Sgaeyl says, “Let her explain.” I’m completely lost to this conversation, and it takes an inordinate amount of patience to sit and wait for them to finish speaking to each other.
“Like a signet?” Violet asks, and I cock my head to the side in thought.
Andarna’s signet? Or not a signet, but her own independent magic?
“No,” Sgaeyl answers. “A signet is a combination of our power with your own ability to channel. It reflects who you are at the core of your being.”
Andarna puffs her chest and Violet repeats the little dragon’s words. “She says, ‘But I gave my gift directly to you. Because I’m still a feathertail.’”
Violet is quiet, turned inward for a heartbeat. “You’re still a feathertail?” she asks apprehensively, her face wary and guarded.
Andarna lets out a small sleepy yawn, her face looking peaceful.
Next to me, Violet’s face has drained of color, something like horror in her eyes. “You’re…you’re a hatchling.” she whispers.
My gaze whips from Violet to Andarana. “She’s a what?”
Violet glares up at Tairn, her entire countenance changed. “You let a Juvenile bond? A juvenile train for war?” Her tone laced with accusation.
Tairn blinks, “We mature at a much faster rate than humans.” He looks mildly offended. “And I’m not sure anyone lets Andarna do anything.”
Violet’s mouth is open in disbelief, “How much faster?” She gasps, “She’s two years old!”
“She’ll be full-grown in a year or two, but some are slower than others. And if I thought she’d actually bond, I would have objected harder to her Right of Benefaction.” Sgayel says, looking down at Andarna in obvious disapproval.
My eyes have gone wide. I thought that Sgaeyl was just fond of the featherling. Not…a caretaker to a hatchling. In the over two years we’ve been together, Sgaeyl has never mentioned a hatchling before. Surely she would've told me.
Dragon offspring are coveted. Mothers are held to the highest regard. She would never keep something like that from me. Not for two years.
Unless she didn’t trust me.
“Hold on.” I take a step toward Sgaeyl, my heart already crumbling. “Is Andarna yours? Have you hidden a hatchling away from me these last two years?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sgaeyl ruffles my hair with a blast of hot air. “Do you think I’d let my offspring bond while still feathered?” I let out the breath I’d been holding, a weight lifting off of my chest.
“Her parents passed before hatching,” Tairn says, clearing any confusion.
Violet closes her eyes slowly, “Oh, I’m sorry, Andarna.”
“Not enough to keep you off the Threshing field,” Tairn grumbles in response to whatever Andarna’s said. “Feathertails don’t bond because their power is too unpredictable. Unstable.”
“Unpredictable?” I ask.
“The same way you wouldn’t hand a toddler your signet, would you, wingleader?” Tairn says with a grunt. Andarna’s completely exhausted sagging against Tairn’s foreleg like a ragdoll hanging from a child’s fingers.
“Gods, no. I could barely control it as a first-year.” I shake my head at the memory of those first few months.
“Exactly. Bonding too young allows them to give their gift directly, and a rider could easily drain them and burn out.”
“I would never!” Violet swears.
And she wouldn’t. Andarna knows it too.
“Of course, you wouldn’t know. Feathertails aren’t supposed to be seen.” Tairn gives his mate a look.
Sgaeyl doesn’t even try to look guilty.
Horror sluices through me as I think about what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands. “If leadership knew riders could take her gifts for themselves, rather than depending on their own signets...” I trail off as I stare at Andarna.
“She’d be hunted,” Violet finishes in a whisper.
“Which is why you can’t tell anyone what she is,” Sgaeyl says. “Hopefully, she’ll mature once you’re out of the quadrant, and the elders are already placing more…stringent protections on the feathertails.”
“I won’t,” Violet promises. “Andarna, thank you. Whatever you did saved my life.”
Andarna yawns again, her head swaying to the side as exhaustion creeps in further.
Violet’s face has gone blank, her breathing shallow.
“What did she say?” I ask as Violet wobbles on her feet.
I grip her shoulders tightly, holding her up.
Tairn growls and a puff of steam blasts us both.
“I’d take your hands off the rider,” Sgaeyl warns me.
I loosen my grip but keep my hands around Violet, looking down into her face. There’s a force tugging me toward the edge of some bottomless chasm. If I let go of her, I’m afraid we’ll both go stumbling into it.
I do not like being left in the dark, unable to see. And right now, I can’t see anything.
“Tell me what she said. Please.” The last word leaves my mouth tasting sour.
“She can pause time. Briefly.”
My brain short circuits at her answer. I look over at Andarna. “You can stop time?”
“In small increments,” Violet whispers.
“In small increments,” I repeat back to her slowly, feeling the words sink in.
“And if I use it too much, I can kill you,” Violet looks at Andarna.
There’s such pure honesty and admiration flowing through the two of them as they sit in quiet conversation, One gold and one silver.
When Violet speaks aloud again, it comes out in a horrified whisper, “Is Professor Carr going to kill me, too?”
Three pairs of dragon eyes, and my own dark gaze, turn to look at her, something violent and possessive vibrating in the air.
I grip her tightly, forgetting Tairn’s earlier warning. My thumbs stroke a path from her shoulders down to the tip of each collar bone.
“Why would you think that?” I ask her. The fear and anguish on her face is enough to drive me toward desperation. My thumbs press in harder, massaging her skin beneath the layers of clothes, willing my hands to become a tool capable of erasing the danger around us with each stroke.
“He killed Jeremiah.” Her hazel eyes bore into me, holding me in place. “You saw him snap his neck like a twig right in front of the whole quadrant.”
“Jeremiah was an inntinnsic.” My voice lowers. “A mind reader is a capital offense. You know that.”
“And what are they going to do if they find out I can stop time?” Her fear is morphing into terror.
“They’re not going to find out,” I promise her, my hands tightening on her shoulders. “No one is going to tell them. Not you. Not me. Not them.” I motion with one hand toward our trio of dragons. “Understand?”
“He’s right,” Tairn says. “They can’t find out. And there’s no saying how long you’ll have the ability. Most feathertail gifts disappear with maturity when they begin to channel.”
Andarna yawns so hard she sways. The hatchling looks dead on her feet.
“Get some sleep,” Violet tells her softly. “Thank you for helping me tonight.”
“Let’s go, Golden One,” Tairn says, and in unison, they launch into the air, a hard wind hitting us as their wings propel them up.
Andarna beats her wings frantically, trying to move skyward.
Tairn swoops underneath her and cradles the little dragon in the crook of his wings as they disappear into the night sky.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about the time-stopping,” I plead as we turn to head back to the citadel. “It’s not just for your safety. Rare abilities, when kept secret, are the most valuable form of currency we possess.”
Now that we’ve solved one of this evening's great mysteries, it’s time to solve the other one. “We need to figure out how unbonded cadets got in your room,”
“There was a rider there,” Violet says, her gaze fastened straight ahead, refusing to look at me. “Someone who ran away before you arrived. She must have unlocked it from the outside.”
I stop abruptly, pulling Violet toward me. “Who?”
She shakes her head, fear and doubt swimming in her eyes.
It’s almost too easy to pick out which responses are the unfortunate side effects of being disregarded her entire life. Dain’s doubt and disrespect, the constant threats to her life, and I doubt her mother’s cruelty stops at Tyr kids.
“At some point, you and I are going to have to start trusting each other, Sorrengail. The rest of our lives depend on it.” I tamper down my rising anger. “Now tell me who.”
Violet looks up at me and takes a steadying breath. “Amber Mavis.”
Fury courses through my veins, so bright and hot that my vision tunnels into a darkness so black and empty that the only thing I can see is Violet’s hazel eyes staring up at me.
…
I rap a knuckle softly against the wooden door on the first-year floor. There’s the sound of shuffling feet and the door cracks open enough for me to see Liam’s blue eyes in the hall light.
“Mairi.” I nod once in mock formality.
Liam opens the door wider and runs a hand through his sleep mussed hair.
“Should I start bowing?” he smirks, his voice garbled
I snort, “The day I ask you to bow, you can have me torched.”
I walk further into the cramped room, examining the meager contents of his new home.
Liam’s only a few inches shorter than I am and is starting to rival me in sheer muscle mass. There’s not much sitting room with both of us in here.
I pick a dagger up off of his side table and spin it inbetween my fingers.
“You know you’re lucky I was alone this morning.”
“Ahh but Liam,” I tap the tip of the dagger to my temple, “I know everything.”
He rolls his eyes and snatches the dagger out of my hand, throwing it into the top drawer of his nightstand.
“I need a favor.”
Liam raises his eyebrows in amusement. “And by that, I’m going to assume you mean an order?”
“I was trying to be nice.” I laugh.
He gives me a look, “Let’s not pretend you’re anything other than a grumpy ass, Xaden.”
I let out a long breath, “I’m switching you to Flame Section.”
Liam nods once. “When?”
“Tomorrow. I’m moving you over next to Violet as well. Get your stuff packed up, and you can move in after morning announcements.”
“Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it.”
“I know.” I clap him on the back and that ever-present guilt makes its way to the forefront of my mind.
I start toward the door and Liam catches me by the shoulder. “Xaden, I want to.” There’s something in his eyes that squeezes my chest painfully. He continues, “We all want to.”
“Yea–”
“I’m serious, Xaden. You have to stop with the constant guilt.” He levels a glare at me.
“Liam.” I start, warning in my tone. He’s pushing and he knows it.
“No.” He cuts me off. “No. I’m not doing this with you if it’s going to be like this. You’ve given me an order. I don’t feel obligated to follow it. None of us do. We choose to. We believe in what you’re doing. We understand the choices you’ve had to make on our account.” His words are clipped.
I stay quiet as he pauses, looking down at his boots. He takes a breath and lifts his head, his gaze flicking back to me, “Let us follow you like we all intend to.”
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#tairn and sgaeyl#sgaeyl#liam mairi#xaden and sgaeyl#rebecca yarros#andarnanurran#andarna#fourth wing fanart
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 19
Walking into Battle Brief, my eyes immediately land on the mop of bright blonde hair sitting several rows below and the long brown and silver braid next to him.
Liam turns to look at me, flashing a small smile before turning back around to say something to Violet, too low for me to hear.
Without turning around, Violet raises her hand in the air and proudly displays her middle finger.
I grit my teeth, glaring at the back of her head. She’s absolutely uncontrollable, insubordinate, and frankly, the most aggravating person I’ve ever met.
Peeling my eyes away from the back of her head, I tap my fingers on the surface of the desk. I’m fidgety and bored.
Battle Brief is nothing but lies and bullshit.
Violet does her best to avoid looking behind her, but like clockwork, she breaks, glaring at me over her shoulder. Liam does the same, albeit with a much friendlier look on her face and I ignore her, giving Liam a nod.
He nods back, and I can see Violet’s eyes roll in annoyance.
I smirk at my ability to get a rise out of her. Playing with Violence eases some of my boredom, but it does nothing to stop the restless energy that rushes through my body.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” Rhiannon’s voice carries up toward me.
My mind is instantly filled with things that have no place in a classroom, and I have to shift in my seat to adjust the growing erection that’s pushing against my zipper.
Garrick stares straight ahead, but the smug smile on his face tells me that he knows exactly what’s going on below my desk.
“You good?”
I clear my throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Yup.”
“Great, because I was talking to Quinn in the gathering hall this morning–”
Out of the corner of my eye, Violet’s quill falls out of her hands and lands softly on the ground.
Pulling the shadows from underneath her seat, I caress the quill, scooping it into a cup of swirling darkness, and push it up toward Violet’s waiting hand.
A small peace offering.
I stifle a yawn as Professor Markham begins announcements. “If we can get started?” the scribe calls over the room, and silence falls as he unrolls a scroll onto the podium.
“First announcement,” Devera says, stepping forward. We’ve decided that not only will the winners of this year’s Squad Battle receive…”
The dull tone of Professor Devera’s voice fades into a quiet hum as my mind travels elsewhere.
…
Winter arrives in full force as December rolls in, bringing with it the harsh snow and wind that the Rider’s Quadrant receives on this side of the chasm.
Garrick and I are observing sparring practice today, both of us strolling at a leisurely pace, hands behind our backs in quiet companionship.
Nearing Violet and Rhiannon’s mat, Violet stops and scolds Rhiannon. “Challenges resume after solstice. You’re not doing me any favors by holding back.”
“She’s not wrong,” I interject from behind Violet.
“Well aware,” she fires back over her shoulder, not deigning to look at me as she says it.
I can feel Violet’s intense gaze on me as we walk past, and a thrill that races through me at the heavy weight of it on my back.
“Go away unless you have something useful to say.”
“Move faster. You’ll be less likely to die. How’s that for useful?” I say, sarcasm coating my words.
Garrick steps to the side of the center mat and pulls his shirt off in one fluid movement. “When’s the last time you sparred?” he asks, throwing the shirt over a bench and removing his daggers.
I start to tug on the hem of my own shirt, pulling it up over my hair. “Monday.”
Garrick slips his boots off and steps onto the mat. “No weapons, completely free-form.” His voice has that authority that comes out when he’s training another rider. He’s one of the only people in the Quadrant capable of testing me.
I slip off my own boots and step on the mat, positioning myself at a subtle angle.
There’s no real winning in sparring. For the first-year challenges, sure. At Garrick and I’s level though, sparring is all about the technique and execution. Keeping our minds fully in tune with the body, combining logic and skill with brute strength.
I move before Garrick, faking to his left before throwing my fist at his jaw. It's a brutal first maneuver with little finesse, but he’s expecting that kind of precision from me. Garrick’s forearm flies up to meet my fist, blocking the punch. His arm extends and grips my bicep, pulling me in close; his next move would have his hands around my neck. I push my foot in between his legs, hooking it around his right foot and pulling toward me.
It’s not enough to knock him off balance, but he stumbles, losing his grip enough for me to bounce back. He recovers his balance within the span of a breath. Garrick charges forward, and I skate to the side avoiding his grasp. I crouch, my leg coming out for a low kick. He shuffles out of the way, his lithe movements so at odds with his hulking body.
We continue this dance, switching from defense to offense until both of us have worked up a decent sweat.
I lean forward, drawing up to throw a hook into Garrick’s jaw when his gaze flicks up past my shoulder.
His forearms come up again, blocking my punch and we both stop, turning to look at the mat behind me.
Violet is lying on the ground with Rhiannon by her side on the mat, face flushed and chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
Off to the side of the mat, Liam stands with his shoulders squared, his whole body poised to attack, as Jack Barlowe saunters over to the mat.
“And here we go,” Garrick mumbles irritably.
I step off the mat, pulling on my socks and boots, eyes never leaving Jack as I tighten my laces.
I stand, walking silently over to Violet’s mat. I situate myself behind Violet, hands in my pockets, observing the confrontation.
“Walk the fuck away, Barlowe,” Liam orders, violent warning in every syllable.
Jack stands above Violet, a sneer scrunching his face as he examines her prone figure.
His eyes drift up, and I can see the exact moment that his eyes clock my riding boots and move up my body, face draining with color as he meets my bored gaze.
“She’s only alive because of you,” he spits, his lip curling in contempt.
I raise my eyebrows, "Right, because I’m the one who buried a dagger in your shoulder at Threshing.”
Below us, Violet scrambles to her feet, leaning on her staff for support.
“We could just settle this now,” Jack says, stepping past Liam. “If you’re done hiding behind the big, strong men.”
Garrick moves to stand next to me, and Imogen has steps slightly closer, her whole body on high alert.
Jack looks at all of us and then back down to Violet, “That’s what I thought.” He grins, blowing her a kiss with a loud smack.
“You ran,” Violet snaps, her voice a violent, angry snarl.
The sound is, well, hot.
Violence in her natural state is a far cry from the meek, nervous girl she’s been boxed into her whole life.
“That day in the field, you fucking ran when it was three on one, and we both know when it comes down to it, you’ll run again.” She pauses, looking him up and down. “That’s what cowards do.”
Jack flushes a bright red, his eyes wide in shock and anger.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Violet,” Dain mutters in exasperation.
Fuck. You.
“She’s not wrong,” I drawl.
Garrick lets out a raucous laugh as Liam takes Jack by the shoulders and pushes him out of the room.
With Jack and Liam out of the way, I can see past the other side of the mat where Violet has her clothes lying out on a bench.
Not just clothes, but her armor.
It’s like she’s trying to piss me off.
Liam pushes Jack the final few inches out of the door, and I flick a tendril of shadow toward it, snapping it shut.
“What the hell were you thinking, egging him on like that?” Dain marches forward for all the world, looking like a pompous toy soldier.
“Oh, now you feel like talking to me?” she snips, lifting her chin to look down her nose.
I step between them, a hot, sweltering rage beginning to bubble up inside of me. Violet doesn’t retreat, her eyes flaring with a heat that mirrors my own.
“Give us a second,” I tell Dain, keeping my gaze locked on Violet.
“You want to tell me why the fuck you’re not wearing that,” I point over to her armored corset. The same corset that I unlaced with my fingers, that touched the skin beneath it that night a few weeks ago.
Every ounce of anger is accompanied by the visceral desire to push her back down to the mat and fuck her in front of everyone.
“I have to wash it at some point.”
I blink back the arousal that’s threatening to spill over.
I take in a deep, shuddering breath. “And you thought that would be a good idea during sparring?”
“I washed it before sparring, knowing it could dry while your guard dog keeps watch, as opposed to sleeping without it because we both know what happens behind locked doors around here.”
I clench my teeth at her indignant tone. “Not behind yours anymore. I made sure of it.”
“Because I’m supposed to trust you?”
She has got to be fucking kidding. “Yes,” I answer, willing my body not to pick her up and carry her out of here so I can shout at her for being so reckless…among other things.
“And you make it so easy,” she snips sarcastically.
“You know I can’t kill you.” I throw my hands up in irritation. “Fuck, Sorrengail, the entire quadrant knows I can’t kill you.” I lean in toward her until we’re close enough to share breath.
She looks into my eyes, “That doesn’t mean you can’t hurt me.”
I blink and move backward, my face smoothing into a carefully controlled expression.
That fast, every bit of arousal has seeped out of me, leaving in its place something bitter and hateful.
“Stop training with a bow staff. It’s too easy to knock out of your hands. Stick to the daggers.”
“I was doing just fine until Tairn barged into my head with all his anger and distracted me.” Her tone is defensive.
“Then learn how to block him out.”
“What, with all this power I’m wielding?” She raises her brows expectantly. “Or were you unaware that I’m still not channeling?”
My anger is still a simmering thing underneath the surface of my skin. I lean back into her, invading her space the way she invades my every thought. “I am annoyingly aware of everything you do.”
There’s a line of electricity running through us that’s pulled so tightly I can almost feel it vibrating between us.
“Wingleader Riorson,” Dain says, and Violet and I both blink at each other as his words slice through the tension. “She’s just not used to the bond yet. She’ll learn how to block it out.”
Violet’s breath hitches, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes. She takes a step back, blinking furiously like she’s trying to reorient herself.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and swing my gaze to Dain. “You choose the oddest times to defend her, Aetos. And the most convenient times not to.”
Dain goes rigid. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles are white.
I turn back to Violet, my face still a mask of boredom. “Do us both a favor and put the fucking armor back on.”
I walk off the mat and back toward Garrick, feeling suddenly too hot. Violet is intoxicating, her anger and mine so exhilarating that it snaps my self-control when I’m around her.
Behind me, Violet gasps in horror.
Too hot turns to too cold, something cold and icy, freezing every nerve in my body.
My back is clearly visible in the light, covered by my navy blue relic.
And the one hundred and seven scars marring the skin underneath.
My back muscles bunch as I tense for a breath.
The irony of Violet’s horror at something her mother very much had a hand in is not lost on me.
I take my shirt from Garrick’s outstretched hand and tug it over my head, covering the grim reminder underneath a sheet of cotton.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#archive of our own#violet and tairn#tairneanach#andarna#andarnanurran#tairn and andarna#dain aetos#iron flame#the empyrean#dragon rider
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WINGLEADER Master Post Chapter 11-20
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#andarnanurran#andarna
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 18
“Oren Seifert.” Captain Fitzgibbons voice booms around the courtyard. "We commend their souls to Malek.”
Quiet chatter rises from the crowd as Fitzgibbons finishes memorializing the first-years I killed yesterday.
Just one more kill to execute.
He rolls the scroll up tightly and slips it into the pocket of his midnight blue winter cloak.
From the back of the courtyard, I walk toward the front of the formation, the crowd parting as I pass, the mask of the Wingleader firmly in place.
“Don’t forget that extra training for War Games starts this week. Your squad leaders will have more information regarding scheduling.” Fitzgibbons announces over the bustle of restless students.
I turn to face the Fourth Wing. Every section stands in perfect order, not a toe out of place. My eyes lock onto Violet’s, and there’s a fire in her gaze that leaves me momentarily enraptured.
I turn to address Dain, breaking out eye contact.
“There’s been a change to your squad roll.” Behind me, Fitzgibbons has moved on to graduation announcements.
“Wingleader?” Dain questions, straightening to his full height. He’s still a half a head shorter than I am.
“We just absorbed four from the dissolution of the third squad.” The squad leader argues.
“Yes,” I turn to look at one of the other squad leaders in Tail Section. “Belden, we’re making a roll change.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods.
The correct response.
“Aetos, Vaughn Penley will be leaving your command, and you’ll be gaining Liam Mairi from Tail Section.
Dain opens his mouth as if to speak and, then thinking better of it, snaps it shut and nods.
Penly and Liam switch spots without a word.
My brother gives me a small nod of assurance as he steps up next to me.
“I do not need a bodyguard,” Violet fires at me.
I ignore her, turning so she’s boxed out of the conversation. “Liam is statistically the strongest first-year in the quadrant. He has the fastest time up the Gauntlet, hasn’t lost a single challenge, and is bonded to an exceptionally strong Red Daggertail.” My eyes cut to Liam and my chest blooms with pride as I continue. “Any squad would be lucky to have him, and he’s all yours, Aetos. You can thank me when you win the Squad Battle in the spring.
Liam gives a silent nod to Dain and slides into formation behind Violet.
“I. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard,” Violet repeats in a loud, clipped voice.
Someone in First Squad audibly gasps at the clear disrespect in Violet’s tone.
Over to the left, Imogen snorts out a laugh. “Good luck with that approach.” I move toward Violet, every step echoing with an undeniable authority.
At this moment, she is my inferior. A subordinate whose life is so closely intertwined with mine that there is no room for declarations, compromises, or rebuttal.
I stand in front of her, leaning in so our faces are close enough for me to see the flecks of blue and green in her hazel eyes. “You do, though, as we both learned last night. And I can’t be everywhere you are. But Liam here,” I point behind her to where Liam stands, ever the loyal sentinel. “He’s a first-year, so he can be in every class, at every challenge, and I even had him assigned to library duty, so I hope you get used to him, Sorrengail.”
“You’re overstepping,” she says through her teeth, looking up at me with so much contempt; it’s no wonder why Tairn bonded with her.
“You haven’t begun to see overstepping,” I warn. My voice drops into a low growl. “Any threat to you is a threat against me and, as we’ve already established, I have more important things to do than sleep on your floor.”
Color blooms at Violet’s neck, trailing up her ears and painting her cheeks a rosy pink. “He is not sleeping in my room.”
I grin at her obvious discomfort.
Checkmate.
“Of course not. I had him moved into the one next to yours.” My smile widens. “Wouldn't want to overstep.”
Turning my back on the Second Squad, I head back to leadership's designated spot at the front of Fourth Wing.
Panchek shimmies past Fitzgibbons, the codex clutched in his hand, and takes the podium.
I let myself barrel into the depths of my mind, sinking into a meditative state. A lethal calm that cocoons every one of my senses, a protective layer for the roiling anger and exhaustion underneath.
Panchek sets the heavy codex on the podium and begins flipping through it, muttering noisily to himself.
He flips through the pages skimming with his finger for several minutes until he halts tapping his index finger on the page, marking the correct Addendum, he looks up to face the entire Formation. “Thank you, Fitzgibbons, for the morning announcements. Now before you go, there’s another matter to handle this morning. One of deepest concern.”
He laces his fingers together and places them atop the codex, leaning into the crowd, a looming presence. “It has been brought to my attention as your commandant that a breach of the Codex has occurred.” His voice floods the courtyard, amplified by small magic.
“As you know, breaches of our most sacred laws are not to be tolerated. This matter will be addressed here and now. Will the accuser please step forward.”
I begin a long, languid walk to the dias, every head turning toward me as I march up that dias.
Placing myself in front of the podium I look out into the crowd, a long silence sitting like a wall between me and the audience of riders
It’s a tactic I saw my father use time and time again.
“A crowd can be one of two things son,” my father says over a table laden with steaming eggs, cream and porridge, thick strips of bacon, crisp and curling at the ends. I pick at my breakfast, too focused on his carefully measured words.
“It can be your damnation,” he pops a red, plump strawberry into his mouth and chews. “Or your salvation. Make people believe in you but, more importantly, fear you just enough, and I don’t infer you should be a tyrant, son, but the smallest amount of fear can breed authority.”
I hesitate, letting his words sink in, giving myself a moment to understand the meaning until I can see it with perfect clarity. “How? How do you create fear? How do you…” I trail off, trying to gather my words. “I want to make every single person in a room look at me when I speak.”
It’s ingrained in me now, the subtle art of capturing everyone’s attention without trying.
“Early this morning,” I begin, my voice carrying over the formations, “a rider in my wing was brutally, illegally attacked in her sleep with the intent of murder by a group primarily composed of unbondeds.”
There’s a collective intake of breath, worried murmurs as heads swivel in every direction.
“As we all know, this is a violation of Article Three, Section Two of the Dragon Rider’s Codex and, in addition to being dishonorable, is a capital offense.”
I gaze at Violet, a symbol and reminder of everything I almost lost last night.
She gazes back, her eyes steely.
My hands clench the sides of the podium as I calm my rising anger. “Having been alerted by my dragon, I interrupted the attack along with two other Fourth Wing riders. I dip my chin toward Garrick and Bodhi.
The two riders make their way up the dais and stand, flanking me on both sides. “As it was a matter of life and death, I personally executed six of the would-be murderers, as witnessed by Flame Section Leader Garrick Tavis and Tail Section Executive Officer Bodhi Durran. But the attack was orchestrated by a rider who fled before I arrived.” With every syllable, my voice rises, nearing a full shout, quiet fury blazing a trail of heat at the base of my skull. “A rider who had access to the map of where all first-years are assigned to sleep, and that rider must be brought to swift justice.”
I look out into the crowd. “I call you to answer for your crime against Cadet Sorrengail.” My eyes lock on Amber in the center of the formation. “Wingleader Amber Mavis.”
The crowd immediately breaks into a frenzied uproar. I stand above it all, hands still clenching the sides of the podium.
Amber steps forward, breaking the carefully orchestrated formation. “I have committed no such crime!” she yells.
I keep my attention fixed on Amber’s face, growing red with anger and panic, but I’m acutely aware of Violet as she stumbles backwards, bumping into Liam’s back.
Dain stands close enough to her that she has to crane her neck up to see him, hands cupping the air as he moves toward her.
The entire courtyard is now watching Violet and Dain. “Give me the memory,” he orders, and that heat in my head becomes a living thing, roaring louder as Dain closes in our her.
Violence, however, has rallied to her namesake. She lifts her chin and stares down her nose at a man who sits almost a foot taller than her. “Touch me without permission, and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
There she is. Just like that, my frustration with her has vanished.
A thought that just irritates me further.
“Wingleaders.” My voice permeates through the rumbling crowd. “We need a quorum.”
Nyra and Speton climb the stairs to the dias, gazes passing over Amber as they stride by. A nonexistent entity already stripped of her authority.
The beat of wings seems to shake the air around us as six dragons fly into the courtyard, landing like giant birds perched on the battlements.
“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family!” Amber shouts from her lone position at the center of the courtyard. Isolated in a sea of bodies. “For not supporting your father’s rebellion!” She plans to go down swinging,
And I intend to meet her blow for blow.
Turning away from her, Nyra, Septon and I huddle close.
“Xaden, this is a huge accusation–” Nyra starts, her brow furrowing. “Though I can’t say it doesn’t make sense.” She sighs.
“It’s the truth” I counter.
“Trial by fire?” Septon asks, mouth forms a thin line, his expression grave. His decision clearly already made.
“I don't doubt you, Xaden. Her sentence?” Nyra asks
“Fire.” Septon speaks before I can answer, “You know Tairn will accept no less.”
“He would be correct.” Sgaeyl adds.
Without warning, a memory protrudes from Tairn’s mind, his inexhaustible power forming a link between everyone in the courtyard. I slam my eyes shut at the sudden breach.
The scene from last night, the unbonded attacking her while she slept, Violet jerking awake, Amber’s face peering out of her hood as she fled the room.
“That spineless wretch,” Rhiannon seethes loudly as the memory ends and my mind clears.
“The wingleaders have formed a quorum and are in unanimous agreement. We find you guilty, Amber Mavis.”
“No!” she shouts, her voice is nearing total hysteria. “It is no crime to rid the quadrant of the weakest rider! I did it to protect the integrity of the wings!” Amber paces in panic, her eyes searching for any salvation in this den of dragons.
As if the formation was controlled by one mind, they step backward, exiling Amber in one small movement.
Nyra’s voice rises, “And as is our law, your sentence will be carried out by fire.”
“No!” Amber’s panic is palpable,“Claidh!”
At her rider's words, Claidh snarls at the other dragons, all rationality gone in the face of the breaking bond.
Quick as a viper, Tairn swivels his massive head toward Claidh and roars, shaking the ground beneath my feet. He snaps his jaws at the smaller dragon and realizing her defeat, she retreats.
“Please don't,” Violet is looking at Tairn, heartbreak lining her face.
“Her penchant toward second chances is what will end us both. '' I push the thought toward Sgaeyl, needing somewhere to put my utter disbelief at the level of idiotic mercy Violet is willing to bestow on anything and anyone.
She sends a low hum through my mind, “Perhaps it is something you need. To balance your lack of it.”
Violet turns her attention to me, “Please give her a chance.” I hold her gaze in mine, my face cold and unfeeling.
Justice is justice.
“Claidh,” Amber whimpers in the silence. Disgust courses through me at her sniveling.
The formation parts, leaving a gap that ends where Amber stands.
Tairn leans in, his large head almost brushing the stone ground. his larged, fanged teeth crack open and a stream of fire pulses out of his mouth, incinerating Amber within a second millisecond.
A piercing cry rips through the air. A lament so painful and undiluted that it shatters the glass panes of a window, and I have to clutch my head, hands clamping down over my ears to lessen the impact.
Claidh launches into the sky, the sounds of her shrieked weeping following her into the distance.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#tairneanach#violence sorrengail#violet and tairn#andarna#andarnanurran#xaden and sgaeyl#rebecca yarros#tairn and andarna#dain aetos
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 15
The plan in place is a simple one: The crew protects Sorrengail.
And I stay far, far away from her for as long as possible.
….
The morning after Threshing is always a political nightmare. But none have felt more nightmarish than this one as I sit up at the dias and examine the teetering social balance shift in the gathering hall.
For the first time since Sgaeyl and I bonded, I’ve found myself thrown into the uncertainty of my own survival.
I’m not quite so arrogant to believe I’m above death at Basgiath, but I’ll be damned to Malek if Sgaeyl and I die at the hands of one of these inane riders and their weak-minded dragons because Sorrengail can’t defend herself.
At the tables below, Violet is getting a masterclass in the new hierarchy. She’s clutching her tray, an uncomfortable grimace lining her mouth as a group of first-years clear an entire table as she approaches, Ridoc and Rhiannon following closely behind.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the fear that lingers in everyone’s eyes as she walks by.
They should fear her.
A room full of wide eyes are on her as she moves to sit.
Imogen, who's been inconspicuously following Violet since she walked into the gathering hall, strides over to the table, swings her leg over the bench, and sits comfortably with the group of first-years like she wasn’t hell-bent on killing Violet as soon as the opportunity arose.
The rest of the crew has made their way over to the table, and after one last cursory glance around the hall, I snatch an apple off the table and sit back in my chair, legs stretched out in front of me.
Lounging and bored, the mask of Fen Riorson’s son, of a powerful, arrogant Wingleader without a care in the world.
I pull out my dagger and peel the apple, my gaze still focused on the hall.
“I love the day after Threshing. It’s always such a clusterfuck,” Garrick snorts, his eyes fixating on Jack Barlowe. The “future wingleader” has been isolated and abandoned in the wake of the new pecking order. I look over and give a short, stilted laugh.
Garrick and I fall into a comfortable silence as we continue watching for signs of danger. Garrick’s eyes are wholly focused on the gathering hall, sweeping across the room like a royal sentinel.
His gaze abruptly stops on something, and his forehead bunches in distress at whatever has caught his attention before quickly looking away, his expression blank.
Worry. Fear.
Garrick has become my second, a born commander; loyal, and honest, and more than I could ever hope to deserve, but it comes at a price. One that I make him pay over and over again as he shoulders the weight of the 107 lives that aren’t his to bear. The pressure growing stronger the deeper we delve into the coming war.
Guilt runs through me, abruptly interrupted by a prickle that shoots up my spine. An electric current has been merged with every nerve ending in my body
My gaze lifts and I find myself looking into Violet’s bright hazel eyes.
There’s a question in her gaze. One I’d been waiting for all day.
I look to Imogen and back to her in answer. A silent order from her Wingleader.
Do as she says Violence.
Her eyes harden, and she turns away from me.
My head doesn’t stop buzzing until I walk out of the gathering hall thirty minutes later
….
The whole courtyard is awash with sunshine. Light and shadow dance together as the wind and sun create a shimmering glow through the branches of trees and in between pillars. Groups of people meander down the paths, stretched out on blankets, laughing or kissing or sleeping on the warm earth.
I lean back against the stone wall of the academic building, watching everyone enjoy the much needed respite. From the mouth of the tunnel, Violet’s figure comes into focus
There’s rage in every step she takes. She’s stomping, actually stomping her feet, and my mouth twitches at the sight.
As Violet nears, I raise my eyebrow in question. She thrusts her middle finger in answer before blowing past me.
Violet doesn’t make it more than a few steps past me when a scream rips through the air, shattering the untroubled afternoon, and a hush falls over the courtyard. A first-year comes into view, a tornado of panicked movement. “Make it stop! For Gods sake, make it stop!” His cries are piercing as he clutches his head in his hands.
An inntinnsic.
I hone in on Jeremiah, assessing the threat. I move, shadows curling at my heels, to put myself directly in front of Violet. That edge of possessive protection envelopes me, my mind and body lying in wait with unrelenting focus.
“Jeremiah!” A voice calls out from the crowd.
Jeremiah turns on his heel, pointing at Barry, a third-year section leader. “You! You think I’ve lost it!”
His eyes go misty, the tone taking on the thoughts of the person he’s hearing. “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!”
“And you!” He spins again, pointing at a second-year in First Wing. “What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?”
Jeremiah turns again, facing Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see I just want to keep her alive? How is he..? He’s reading my thoughts!”
I’m too focused to find any humor in Dain’s idiotic thoughts.
Violet takes a step up to my side. “Oh Gods,” she whispers in horror as she realizes what’s happening.
Garrick shoves his way forward, pushing Ridoc to the side as he takes up position on Violet's left.
My eyes don’t leave Jermiah as his screams turn into desperate pleas. “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!”
“Do something,” Violet begs next to me, and her voice is so full of anguish that my shadows respond before my mind does, an undetectable tendril moving towards Jeremiah. It feels like my shadows bend to her will, and there’s a burning sensation in my stomach at the thought.
My gaze remains fixed on Jeremiah. “Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit you’ve learned,” I order.
Violet looks up in irritated confusion, “I’m sorry?”
Of course, Violence could never just take an order without question. “If you value your secrets, clear your thoughts. Now,” I snap.
“And you!” Jeremiah whirls on Garrick.
Fuck.
“Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about–”
I push the tendril forwards, merging it with Jeremiah's own shadow. The dark bands of swirling black wind up his body, cutting off his words.
Professor Carr pushes through the crowd
“He’s an inntinnsic!” someone shouts.
That’s all it takes for Carr to walk up to Jeremiah and, in one fluid movement, snap the man’s neck.
I release the shadows and they skitter away, finding pockets of darkness. Jeremiah’s own shadow gone as he lies on the grass, head lolling at an unnatural angle.
I suck in a breath, steadying myself, and glance at Garrick. His face is wan, his mouth pressed into a tight line.
We both leave without a word.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#andarnanurran#andarna#tairneanach#dain aetos#tairn
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 14
I walk through the threshold to my bedroom and let out the breath I’ve been holding since I walked off the flight field. I feel claustrophobic, stuck somewhere tight and oppressive within my own mind.
I pull my arms out of the harness belted at my waist and throw it onto the desk with a clatter as sheathed daggers hit wood.
My head is swimming, and I have to brace my hands on the chair at my desk to keep from sagging to the floor.
I suck in breath after breath, and hang my head, exhaustion permeating every inch of my body.
There’s a throbbing in my temples and I'm overwhelmed by every one of my compounding responsibilities. My people, my city, my dragon, and now my—Violet.
Just Violet.
The kiss I witnessed between Violet and Dain has me reeling. I hate the way he touched her, held her, and spoke to her like he hasn’t spent the last few months gaslighting her. Demeaning her. Using every tool in his arsenal to make her believe she couldn’t make it as a rider.
There’s a loud pounding on my door, knocking me out of my stupor, and I straighten up, reaching for the handle to open it before they resort to breaking down the door.
Impatient bastards.
Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Quinn, Heaton, Emery, and a few others march in.
I stand in silence as they settle into the various seats in the spacious room.
“I know we’ve all had a long day, but this couldn’t wait.” I pause and close my eyes, rubbing my temples with my thumb and forefinger, gathering my thoughts.
Exhaustion has become a weight on my shoulders, growing heavier as the night drags on, but there are things that must be arranged before I can escape into the darkness of sleep.
“You all should now be aware that Violet has bonded Tairn, and this means a few things. She and I are now tied to each other in every way that matters. She has a direct line to my thoughts, should she get past my mental barriers, and the threats on her life are a danger to us both. Violet is target number one, especially as she and Tairn’s bond is so new. The unbonded will spend the coming weeks attempting to steal Tairn from her. This poses a threat to the safety of myself and my dragon.” I pause, grief hitting me as memories of that final showdown run through me.
“Nolan dying nearly killed Tairn. And If Tairn dies, Sgaeyl will follow.”
I don’t need to finish the thought for everyone to understand what happens next.
A dragon without its rider is a tragedy.
A rider without their dragon is dead.
The first, and most important part of the Rider’s Codex
There’s a beat of silence before Garrick stands from his seat, “So we protect her.” His eyes are hard, determined. There’s a glimmer of caution in his gaze too though, and I know where his mind is going.
My rapidly slipping control around Sorrengail.
At the back of the room, Imogen’s face has gone pale with panic, but she raises her chin, squaring her shoulders as she addresses me, “Tell us what we need to do, Xaden.” There’s a collective murmur of agreement as the rest of the room nod their heads.
My reliable, steadfast crew. Ready to defend this woman they hate without question in order to protect one of their own.
To protect me.
“Okay.” I breathe, swinging my desk chair around to face them and taking a seat. “Your job now is to stay close to her, make people think twice about attacking her knowing the company she keeps.”
I nod my head at Imogen, “She needs to be able to protect herself, and thus far her training is…lacking.”
She snorts, “Should be easy, especially since I’m not trying to get into her pants” Sarcasm dripping off of every word, and the crew snickers at the not so subtle jab at Aetos.
“Start her on weights,” I order and Imogen nods once. “Her body is weak at the joints. It won’t make the pain go away, but we can at least help her build enough muscle to avoid injury. Everything else can be worked around as needed. For now, your only job is to be at her back, help her learn to protect her front, and help keep me alive.”
“And what about Brennan?” Bodhi asks softly.
I lean forward and prop my forearms on my knees, lacing my fingers together as I look each of them in the eye, “None of you are to utter a single word. He does not exist as far as anyone here is concerned. He is dead and buried. You are to say nothing about the resistance, about Athebyne, any of it.” Everyone nods gravely.
“You’re dismissed,” I say, drawing the meeting to a close with a wave of my hand. “Go blow off some steam, it’s been a long day.”
I stand, opening the door and the crew file out in silence, Garrick pausing by the threshold, “I didn’t say anything to Liam–”
“Good. I’ll tell him myself; he deserves a night.” Garrick is my second for a reason. Sometimes, it feels like he lives inside my head. “We’ve got you brother.” He claps me on the back.
I nod, giving him a small smile. “I know. Now get out of here. Go sleep, or find someone pretty, whatever is going to keep you from being the grouchiest mother fucker in the morning”
He laughed and strides out.
The room is empty save for the redheaded woman sitting on my desk, hands braced on the edge, swinging her feet.
I raise my eyebrows at her, giving her an exasperated look.
“Orla.” I say simply, closing the door and twisting the lock before walking over to her.
She gives me a small lopsided smile and tilts her head, her long copper hair sliding over her shoulder. “Xaden.” Her tone is teasing but soft.
She chews on her lip, looking up at me, studying my face. “I was just going to offer my company and maybe a distraction. If you need it.” She says it matter-of-factly, a genuine offer for sex, for a bit of release from the day, and nothing else.
Orla and I were in the same squad our first-year, and while the physical attraction was instant, we mostly skirted around each other until the end of our second-year.
It’s never been anything other than sex. She more or less holds the same sentiments about love and relationships that I do. They’re messy. A fast track to getting you killed. So it’s worked, this arrangement of ours. And it's comfortable, a friendship and an intimacy without pain or fear. Pleasure and release for us both.
Orla reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, stepping in between her legs until I’m surrounded by her body.
Her thumb rubs a small circle on the back of my hand, and she tilts her head up to look up at me, our lips close enough to share breath
Fragments of the day flash through my mind. Jack charging toward Violet, sword raised. The fear as Tynan circled her, blood splattered in the grass, coating her hands. Violet and Dain hand in hand, their bodies pressed together, his mouth moving against hers
I grit my teeth against that last image of the way Dain touched her face as he kissed her, a searing rage traveling up my spine at the potential violation.
I can still see Violet’s face as I slip my hand under the thin fabric of Orla’s shirt, digging my fingers into her skin as I grasp her bare waist.
She hooks her fingers into my belt loops and pulls me closer until our bodies are flush, every one of her curves pressed against me.
I bow my head, pressing my mouth against her neck, and trail a line of kisses up the curve of her jaw.
She lets out a small sigh, and I bite down on the sensitive skin between her neck and ear, making her gasp in pain and pleasure.
We’ve been doing this for long enough that we know what the other one likes, what gets a reaction out of our bodies, and I love the sounds she makes under my teeth, my hands, my body.
I suck on her skin, soothing the sting of that bite with my tongue.
My cock hardens as she grinds against me, my hand traveling up to cup her breast, thumb stroking her nipple in a long, languid movement.
Orla’s soft moan fills the room, and my hand tightens on her waist. She arches her back, bracing her arms behind her as she stretches up to meet my lips.
Before she can pull me in I lean away from her and cup her chin, my thumb dragging across her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open. She whines, frustrated by my teasing, and I let out a soft chuckle at Orla’s increasing impatience.
This is the part I love. The anticipation and need that grows with every second we spend playing.
She opens easily for me, and I move my hand to cup the back of her neck, twining my fingers through her hair and pulling with a gentle tug, forcing her head back. She hisses, and I swallow the sound as my lips connect with hers, the kiss urgent and needy. My other hand moves to cup her ass, pulling her into me and she grinds against me, harder and my hips push into her at the sensation.
Orla’s hands are warm as they glide under my shirt, and I moan into her mouth as they travel lower, toying with the waistband of my flight leathers.
My hips roll against her palm, and she moves lower, her hand now firmly tucked into the front of my pants, and I open my mouth to say something, to murmur her name.
Violet’s name.
Without warning my body has become a live wire, short-circuiting at the name hanging on my lips, moments away from being spoken.
I release my hold on Orla and step back, breaking the kiss.
My eyes are wide with shock as they land on her face, and I look down at the floor before I can read her expression.
Fuck.
“Xaden.” I hear Orla say warily.
It feels like I’m underwater, struggling to breathe as I realize what thinking Violet’s name, wanting to call out to her in that moment, might mean.
“Hey! Riorson!” Orla snaps her fingers at me, and my eyes dart up to meet hers.
There’s something clear and bright in her face as she studies me. A kind of bald understanding that makes me flinch.
“Riorson.” Orla pauses, hands out in front of her. A person trying to calm a wild animal. “You’re okay. You’re fine alright?”
When I don’t say anything she hops off the desk and grabs my hand, squeezing softly, and there’s nothing sexual in the touch, just a kind of gentle understanding. Like she can hear the echo of the word that almost slipped from my lips.
I look down at her, clearing my throat. “Im sorry, I–”
“Don’t do that Xaden.” She shakes her head. “I’m not someone you need to apologize to. Not for this.”
She lets go of me and I run shaking hands through my hair looking up at the ceiling. It takes me a few tries to swallow the lump in my throat.
My gaze drifts back down to Orla, who’s just silently looking at me.
I press my lips together in a thin line. “I’m so fucked” I whisper, my body slumping as the weight I’ve been carrying around threatens to crush me.
I’ve always felt comfortable around Orla; she keeps things to herself, and she’s got a conviction about her that I respect. An honesty that makes me trust her in a way very few do.
Still, I’ve never spoken to her quite so frankly, never been vulnerable in this way. Never been this vulnerable with anyone.
She moves toward me and reaches up on her tiptoes to cup my face in both hands. “You are not fucked Xaden.” There’s pure honesty in her words. “Things have changed rapidly, in a way that could compromise us all, but you’re not fucked.”
“I–it’s not just that, it’s– Violet” I stumble. Gods I can’t even get a sentence out. Can’t get my thoughts together.
Orla smiles knowingly, “I know, but I don’t think we need to talk about that. You’ll figure it out”
I offer her a small, grim smile in return.
“I can stay if you don’t want to be alone. Or if you want to come with me to the flight field…I want to be with *Faireachail while it’s quiet before everything gets crazy again.”
My friends are better to me than I’ll ever deserve.
I shake my head. “No, no I need to sleep.”
She walks to the door. “Orla?” I say as her hand grabs the knob.
“Yea?” She turns to look at me.
“Thank you. You’re kinder than I deserve.”
She looks at me with a sad smile, “No I’m not Xaden.” And she walks out into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a click.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#rhiannon matthias#ridoc#andarnanurran#andarna
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WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction
CHAPTER 11
Jack recovers quickly, shouting across the clearing at me, “And if we don’t want to rethink our actions?”
I clamp my jaw, a muscle feathering there, the only indicator that my anger is close to breaking the surface.
I look toward Violet and I hope she can see the words in my eyes
I will not allow them to hurt you. You are safe as long as I am here.
Whatever Violet is thinking is lost on me as she rips her head away from my gaze and back to the trio of assholes in front of her.
“There’s nothing you can do, right? Wingleader?” Jack bellows. I don’t think he’s aware that I have no problem breaking and bending rules if I have to. Wingleader or not.
“It’s not me you should worry about today,” I reply.
Behind me, Sgaeyl’s anger is coming off in waves, and I don’t mind being arrogant about the fact that we are a very, very dangerous pair.
Violet risks another glance towards me, her eyes meeting Sgaeyl’s before flicking her gaze in front of her.
“You really going to do this? Attack a squadmate?” she asks Tynan. It’s not a plea. No, it’s a judgment.
“Squads don’t mean shit today.” he growls, lip curling into a cruel smile.
Without taking her eyes off of the three threatening figures looming in front of her, she speaks to the yellow Feathertail behind her, “So I guess that’s a no on the flying?” The Dragon only responds with a low puff.
“Andarnaurran.”
I turn to look at Sgaeyl, brows furrowed. “What?”
“Her name.” She says simply before nodding to the clearing.
“Oh, fucking hell.” Violet glances behind her. “You don’t have any claws?” she groans before turning back to the three men in front of her.
Jack bellows as he breaks into a run, sword held high.
“Please, Violet. Don’t pull your punches. Be my Violence right now,” I plead with her inside my mind. I think I might be begging.
“She is not a killer Xaden.”
“I fucking know.”
Violet’s dagger goes flying with a flick of the wrist sinking it into Jack’s shoulder. Jack falls to his knees, his sword dropping to the ground with him. It’s not enough though. Oren and Tynan are rapidly closing in on her, swords raised, utter determination on their faces.
But I’m not moving from the treeline. No, I’m going to give Violet the chance to take them down on her own terms. Or at the very least make her scared enough to remind her that killing is sometimes the only option.
Violet slings her other dagger into Tynan’s thigh, and I suck a breath in through my teeth as Oren swings his sword down, aiming for her exposed neck. She ducks, unsheathing her dagger and swiping for his ribs in one smooth movement.
She rises up and is immediately met with Oren’s sword. It makes contact in a movement that should have left her completely disemboweled if not for the dragon scale armor I already knew was underneath her leathers.
I’d been pretty sure that day on the sparring mat, our bodies pushing against each other so tightly I could feel every inch of her, including the ridges of her armor.
“The girl told Fierge and *Tuisceanach earlier of her armor built from Teine’s scales.”
“Smart.” I say curtly, too distracted by the fight in front of us.
“What the hell?” Oren shouts in surprise as his sword glances off of her side.
Behind Oren, Jack is shouting, “She destroyed my shoulder! I can’t move it!” He’s cradling the space between his delts and traps. She hit right at the joint.
“That’s the thing about having weak joints; you know exactly where to strike.” She shouts back at him.
“Kill her!” Jack orders with a scream before bolting in the opposite direction, disappearing into the tree line.
Fucking coward.
Tynan goes for her again, sword out in front of him. She spins away and thrusts the dagger behind her into his side, then turning to Oren, swings her elbow into his chin. It’s an impressive maneuver.
“You fucking bitch!” Tynan screams, clutching at his side. The wound is a deep, clean slice, his fingers doing very little to stop the blood from splashing onto the grass at his feet.
“Such an original insult!” she says, slicing into a still dazed Oren.
Tynan’s on the move and, before Violet can right herself, he cuts her from shoulder to bicep with his sword.
My stomach roils and I think I’ve praised Malek more in the last handful of months than I have in my entire existence because of the woman in front of me, fighting with all of her courage, in all of her pain, for the innocent dragon that stands before her.
Behind her, Oren has recovered, and his arms begin to rise– ” Behind you!” I shout, and she pivots before he has a chance to behead her with his sword.
The dragon – Andarnaurran – juts her jaw forward, snapping at Oren. He stumbles backwards and Violet finds her opening.
Instead of killing him, she brings the pommel of the dagger down onto his head and, with a crack, Oren crumples to the ground.
She’s not a killer. Even when she needs to be.
Violet turns towards Tynan who has his sword raised in a defensive position. He’s too wounded to go on the offensive now.
“You can’t interfere!” Tynan yells, face contorting with rage.
“No, but I can narrate!” I shout back.
Behind me, Sgaeyl has gone serpentine; her giant head moving side to side, poised to hunt her prey.
Violet risks a glance in our direction, eyes looking above my head at Sgaeyl; fear has broken through her bravado.
“Your arm is shot, Sorrengail,” Tynan says through his teeth.
Violet raises a brow, “I'm used to functioning in pain, asshole. Are you?”
Gods, this woman. This brave, exceptional woman. If the world knew what she was capable of they would get on their knees for her.
“Pay attention, Wingleader.”
“I know exactly where I sliced into you. If you don’t get to a healer soon, you’ll bleed out internally.”
She’s goaded him into a fury and, as he moves to strike, she flicks her knife at him.
Where it lands in the grass several feet away.
Fuck.
She’s out of options.
Without a thought I’ve loosened the leash on my power, shadows swirling at my feet forming a brutal wave of blackness.
Tynan grips the pommel of his sword with both hands–
No.
I step forward into the clearing, ready to strike.
Until a black cloud appears overhead.
Not a cloud, but a dragon.
Tairn barrels towards us landing with a smooth grace that nothing so large should be capable of. With a gust of wind from his great black wings, he encases the little yellow Feathertail in a shield of scales, fire, and teeth.
I swing around to look at Sgaeyl.
“Why–”
“I told him to get Andarnaurran, that the small one was losing. I didn’t know he was going to come falling out of the sky,” Sgaeyl snips, her lip curling slightly. But the fire’s gone out of her eyes at the sight of her mate.
Tairn turns his eyes towards Sgaeyl and I.“You asked *Mo Chroi. This is who I choose. This is my rider.” Tynan and Violet both stagger as the gust of wind pushes them off balance. Violet manages to right herself, but Tynan’s mouth has fallen open, and he begins retreating at the sight of the most lethal dragon known on this Continent.
“I am more dangerous than even the unknown shadow wielder.”
There’s complete silence in my head. I have no thoughts, no words, as Violet turns towards Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descendant of the Dubhmadinn line.
My dragon’s mate.
There’s silence as he speaks into Violet’s mind, words only for her. She stands stock-still for a heartbeat before she stumbles over to the side where Oren’s still body lay.
Within an instant, Tynan knows what's coming for him. He bolts for the trees as Tairn opens his maw, and spits a stream of fire into Tynan’s back, incinerating everything in his path.
More silence, and then Violet speaks, “I can’t kill an unconscious man.” She shakes her head at Tairn.
I don’t have it in me to reprimand her for it. My head is swimming. The momentary silence in my head has broken into an avalanche of thoughts.
Sgaeyl, behind me, though shocked, seems nothing short of pleased.
More silence. Violet glances at Oren's crumpled body. “Well, that’s a statement on his character. Not mine.”
A dragon choosing their rider is one of the most intimate connections our souls can make, and it is not for us to bear witness to. Violet is safe, and it’s time for us to go.
I run up Sgaeyl’s side and take my seat in a single, swift movement, raking my gaze over Violet one more time before Sgaeyl launches us into the air.
Notes:
*Aisteach and Tuisceanach refers to the two dragons who sniff Violet on the Flight Field. I named them the Gaelic words for “Curious” and “Thoughtful”, respectfully. EDIT: one of the green dagger tails bonds with Rhiannon and is name Fierge, I’ve changed the name in this chapter to reflect that.
*Mo Chroi is Gaelic for “My Heart” and will be something Tairn will continue to refer to Sgaeyl as throughout the series as a term of endearment.
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#andarna#andarnanurran#fantasy#fantasy fanfic
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Are you going to put this amazing work on Ao3 or are you going to keep posting here. Also incredible love it , fills my heart with joys
It is available on AO3 as well!
I’ll link it here
#fanfiction#fourth wing#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#xadenviolet#violet and xaden#fourth wing fanfic#sgaeyl#tairn and sgaeyl#liam mairi#andarnanurran#andarna#tairneanach
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