•𝟕.𝟗𝐊•

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎

𝕬midst the spacious garden surrounding Duke Lindell's towering manse, its shadow consuming most of the bushes and oak trees, a boy of sixteen with long hair paler than the sun above stands upon a wooden beam, arms throw out for balance.

   𝔄nd dangling from another beam floating above him are three swinging logs encased with jagged metal–the middle log swinging opposite the other two.

   𝔗he horizontal beam 'tis attached to a pair of platforms by rope, thus, whenever the boy moves, the log beneath his feet jerks forward and back or side to side, depending on which direction he shifts his weight.

   𝔗hose long pearlescent locks catch the light of the golden dawn breaking through the clouds and sparkle like melted starlight as he bounces on his toes, expelling a breath.

   𝑁𝑜𝑤.

   𝔅eneath the first ascent of the Dauntlet–as the boys whom occupied the manse decided to call the obstacle course meant to mimic Basgiath's Gauntlet–stands Xaden Riorson with his arms crossed atop his chest and legs spread as he observes Reserras with those onyx eyes narrowed.

   𝔚ith the agility he 'tis slowly coming to master, Reserras passes by the first swinging spiked-log, only for the burst of its breeze to shove against his lean body and nearly knock him off the beam.

   𝔗here 'tis only the sliver of a foot between the three logs, for the course 'tis meant to test one's quick agility and steady balance, to prepare one for the parapet.

   𝔄nd panic seeps into his mind when his body looses its balance and begins to lean too far to the right, and so, Reserras thrusts his weight to the left and rushes past the second log, too eagerly, too recklessly.

   ℌe looses his footing when the second log swings by behind him, and the third slams into Res' side.

   𝔗he boy 'tis thrown from the beam, and lands upon the grass beneath with a thump.

   𝔄 sigh falls from Xaden's lips. He walks over to Reserras, kneeling beside him, "You loose your balance too easily and then you panic, Ressy."

   𝔗he boy grunts with a scowl, spitting out a mouthful of blood only for the remnants of the viscous liquid to dribble from the corner of his lips as he props himself up on his elbow, clutching his throbbing ribs.

   𝔉rowning, Xaden tears off a piece of his tunic to tenderly wipe away the blood.

   "Its too godsdamned narrow!"

   "So are you, you twig," he smirks.

   ℜeserras huffs with a roll of his eyes, rearing his leg back to kick Xaden's shin, whom chuckles.

   "You're skinny, Res, and you're agile. Use those to your advantage. Stop being what you think you are, and be who you are. Center your gravity."

   𝔓ushing himself to his feet, Xaden offers his hand, which Reserras takes, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet with a silent wince, ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎 ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑘.

   "Now, again."

   ℜeserras rolls his shoulders with a nod, then, returns to the Dauntlet and climbs the ladder leading onto the first platform.

   ℌe is skinny. He is quick.

   𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔.

   𝔗hrowing his arms out for balance, Reserras steps unto the beam with light feet and after the initial shake as the log adjusts to his sudden weight, he centers his gravity.

   𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐴𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦. 𝐵𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

   𝔈xpelling a breath, Reserras spares himself a moment to track the movements of the swinging logs. And he finds there 'tis exactly three seconds before they fall.

   𝔍ust like the swing that once dangled from the oak tree in his house's garden, but Reserras' shoves that comparison behind iron bars. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤.

   𝔈xpelling another breath as the floral breeze tousles his silver hair, Reserras waits... 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑁𝑜𝑤!

   𝔉oot over foot, Res passes the first, straightens his back as he sucks in his belly and balances upon one leg as he hovers the other off of the beam to make himself as skinny as possible whilst the second swings past him once, then he passes it, repeating the same maneuver again, then passes the third.

   𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑖𝑡! Stepping up onto the creaky platform, Reserras throws his fist into the crisp morning air with a joyous holler. 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑖𝑡!

   𝔄ll but leaping from the ten-foot-tall platform without a worry, Reserras sprints across the grass to throw himself into Xaden's awaiting arms with a chuckle.

   𝔏aughter drifts through the garden as Xaden lifts Reserras off his feet to spin him around, breathing the sweet scent of his sole companion since... since ever, since the moment life awoke within him.

𝔑o matter how long it takes, through tears and blood and broken limbs, Xaden will prepare Reserras for the Riders Quadrant. He will not let that death sentence take Reserras Atonal from him.

ℌe can't, for he simply does not exist without him.

༻*✽*༺

     —𝕹o matter how much he strains his neck, the Gauntlet seemed to stretch higher and higher.

𝔗he menacing obstacle course had been carved into the front of the ridgeline so steep, it 'tis all but the cliff, itself. The sinuous and twisting trail looms high above Reserras and his squad, climbing in five switchbacks of one-eighty-degree turns, every ascent becoming all the more difficult on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field.

"Well, that's..." Rhiannon swallows, her head tilted just as far back as everyone else as they all stare at the obstacle course running up the side of a fucking cliff.

"Amazing," Aurelie sighs, 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

ℜhiannon and Violet both turn to her, incredulous, thinking she must have hit her head, or something. Res snickers to himself.

"You think this hellscape looks amazing?" Rhiannon lifts a brow.

"I've been waiting years for this!" Aurelie grins, her normally austere eyes dancing in the morning sun as she rubs her hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee. "My dad used to set up obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice, and Chase said it's the best part of being here before Threshing. It's a real adrenaline rush."

"He's with the Southern Wing, right?" Violet asks, focusing on the Gauntlet.

"Yep. Pretty much desk duty for all the action they see near the Korvlan border." She shrugs, then points about two-thirds up the course. "Watch out for those giant posts jutting from the side of the cliff. They spin, and you can get crushed between them if you're not fast enough."

𝔚ith a sigh, Rhiannon mutters, "Oh, good, I was wondering when it might get difficult."

"Thanks, Aurelie," Violet grins at her, yet it wavers slightly in trepidation of this course from hell, itself, looming over them–its jaws salivating, awaiting to claim their souls as gifts to Malek.

𝔗he sun hasn't yet touched the little crevice Second Squad stands in, but its shinning above the last quarter of the course, therefore, Res squints slightly as he looks to the series of nearly touching, three-foot-wide logs jutting out from the rocky terrain like a set of round steps rising from the ground to the switchback hovering above it.

ℌe hums to himself, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

"Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet," Ridoc says from beside Reserras–Violet on Res' other side–blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the early morning chill assaulting their bare skin.

𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡, yet Res knows the second he gets going on this course, all the blood rushing will warm him right up.

"To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings." Tynan sneers from Ridoc's other side, folding his arms over his chest as he sends a pointed look at Violet.

𝔖he shoots him a glare and then shakes it off. 𝐻𝑒'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑅ℎ𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑛𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙–whose done nothing but glare at Res whenever he could after their challenge.

𝔅ut Reserras 'tisn't bothered by the likes of Barlowe, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑏𝑒?

"Knock it the fuck off," Ridoc snaps, earning the entire squad's attention, and surprise.

ℜes' brows lift, sharing a befuddled glance with Sawyer. He's never seen Ridoc lose his temper or use anything but humor to defuse a situation before.

"What's your problem?" Tynan shoves a strand of thick, dark hair from his eyes and pivots like he's going to glare some intimidation into Ridoc–𝑏𝑢𝑡, 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑐 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟.

"My problem? You think because you made friends with Barlowe and Siefert that you have the right to be a dick to your own squadmates?" Ridoc challenges.

"Exactly. Squadmate." Tynan gestures toward the Gauntlet. "Our times aren't just ranked individually, Ridoc. We're scored as a squad, too, which is how the order for Presentation is decided. Do you really think any dragon wants to bond a cadet who walks in after every other squad in the processional?"

"They're not timing us for Presentation today, asshole." Ridoc takes a step forward, and the tips of Res' fingers twitch as he crosses his arms behind his back–ready to defend Ridoc, 𝑖𝑓 ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝, 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ.

"Stop," Sawyer shuffles between the two, shoving Tynan's chest hard enough to make him stagger back into the girl behind him. "Take it from someone who made it through Presentation last year: your time doesn't mean anything. The last cadet to walk in last year bonded just fine, and some of the cadets in the first squad onto the field were passed over."

"Little bitter about that, aren't you?" Tynan smirks. Res glares at the jackass.

𝔅ut Sawyer ignores the barb. "Besides, it's not called the Gauntlet because it weeds out cadets."

"It's called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale," Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind Second Squad, his shaved head glinting in the ever steadily growing sunlight. "Plus, actual gauntlets are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago." He cocks a brow at Tynan and Sawyer, "Are you two done arguing? Because all ten of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it's another squad's chance to practice, and from what I've seen of your agility on the mat, you're going to need every second."

𝔗here's a grumble of assent in the little group of first-years.

"As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here." Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries, "Sawyer, you're going to show them how it's done, since you already have the lay of the land. Then Pryor, Trina, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Reserras, Violet, Aurelie, and Luca." A smile curves the harsh line of his mouth as he finishes calling out every name of Second Squad, and they file into order. "You're the only squad to remain intact since Parapet. That's incredible. Your squad leader must be very proud. Wait here a second." Emetterio walks past them, waving at someone high up the cliff.

ℜeserras does not doubt that someone has a watch.

"Aetos is especially proud of Sorrengail," Tynan gifts Violet with a mocking sneer once their instructor is out of hearing range, and she stiffens with rage. "Look, if you want to talk shit about me, that's one thing, but leave Dain out of it."

"Tynan," Sawyer growls, shaking his head.

"Like it doesn't bother any of you that our squad leader is fucking one of us?" Tynan yaps on, throwing his hands out. Reserras rolls his eyes. Though, Tynan's gaze then snaps to the marked one, "Or that our wingleader is doing the same with him?"

ℜeserras scoffs, neither amused nor bothered. "You did not just bring him and I into your, truly pathetic, complaining here."

"Honestly, it's none of your godsdamned business who me or Reserras are sleeping with, Tynan," Violet snaps.

𝔖he spares a swift glance at Reserras, he subtly nods. She returns it.

"It is if it means you both get preferential treatment!" Luca butts in.

"For fuck's sake," Rhiannon mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Luca, Tynan, shut up. Violet and Dain are not sleeping together. They've been friends since they were kids, or do you not know enough about our own leadership to know his dad is her mom's aide?"

𝔗ynan's eyes widen, like he's actually surprised, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑤𝑖𝑡, "Really?"

"Really," Violet shakes her head with a sigh and studies the course.

"Shit. I'm... sorry," he winces. "Barlowe said – "

"And that's your first mistake," Ridoc interjects. "Listening to that sadistic ass is going to get you killed. And you're lucky Aetos isn't here."

𝔏uca scoffs at it all, "And what about Reserras and Riorson?"

ℜes huffs, not even sparing the catty brunette a glance as he crosses his arms across his chest, "Feel free to go and ask Xaden, yourself, Luca."

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡.

"Here we go!" The Professor walks to the head of the line the first-years have formed. "You'll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you'll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to let us start practicing this thing right after Parapet?" Rhiannon queries, her perfectly curved brows bent. "You know, to give us a little more time so we don't die?"

"No," Emetterio replies, "The timing is part of the challenge. Any words of wisdom, Sawyer?"

𝔖awyer blows out a slow breath, his gaze tracing the treacherous course. "There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the cliffside to the bottom," he says. "So if you start to fall, reach out and grab one. It'll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more."

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐.

"I mean, there's a perfectly good set of steps over there." Ridoc points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

"The stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation." The Professor declares, then lifts his hand toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

𝔗he fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin, and the pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, then the little posts Donans mentioned all start to twist in opposite directions.

"Every one of the five ascents of this course is designed to mimic the challenges you will face in battle." Emetterio turns to look at the first-years, his face no less stern than 'tis during combat training. "From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you'll need to hold your seat during maneuvers," he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from their angle, "to the stamina you'll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second's notice."

𝔗he posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of them.

ℜeserras expels a breath.

"Whoa," Trina whispers, her brown eyes wide as she stares at the pulverized rock. Aside from Reserras, she 'tis the quietest, the most reserved.

𝔗hough, she needn't pour her heart out to Second Squad to survive the quadrant.

"You all right?" Violet asks her in a whisper. Trina attempts to swallow past her fear and nods, one of her auburn ringlet curls bouncing against her forehead.

"What if we can't make it up?" Luca asks, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so loud now. "What's the alternative route?"

"There is no alternative. If you don't make it, you can't get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Sawyer." Emetterio orders, and Sawyer moves to the beginning of the course. "After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And... go!"

   𝔖awyer is off like an arrow.

   ℌe easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him three rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, Res doesn't see a single misstep in the first ascent.

   𝑁𝑜𝑡. 𝑂𝑛𝑒.

   ℌe turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that makes up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground once more, Sawyer turns and heads up the third ascent, which 'tis divided into two sections.

   𝔗he first part 'tis a set of giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body's weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff.

   𝔉rom the last bar, Sawyer jumps onto the second half of the ascent, a series of shaking pillars, before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

   𝔅y the time he reaches the fourth ascent–the spinning logs Donans warned them all about–Sawyer has made the Gauntlet look like child's play.

   𝔄fter he all but soars over the logs, he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle, and pauses.

   "You got this!" Rhiannon encourages from Violet's side.

   𝔄s though he heard, Sawyer sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then he starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff's edge at a nearly vertical climb.

   𝔖awyer springs up the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

   𝔙iolet and Rhiannon scream and cheer for him, as Reserras and Ridoc whistle and clap. 𝐻𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ.

   "Perfect technique!" Professor Emetterio calls out, smiling in approval. "That's exactly what you should all be doing."

   "Perfect, and yet he was still passed over at Threshing," Luca snarks. "Guess the dragons have some sense of taste."

   𝐺𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟.

   "Give it a rest, Luca." Rhiannon grumbles.

   "I'm too short for the ramp," Reserras overhears Violet whisper to Rhiannon, worry dripping from her tone. She glances over at her, and then back to the obstacle. "But you're wicked fast. If you get your speed up, I bet the momentum will take you to the top."

   𝔓ryor struggles on the swinging steel rods in the third ascent, 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡, but he reaches the shaking pillars just as Trina nearly tumbles off them, reaching for a rope.

   ℜes could only make out the flash of red from her hair when she starts across the spinning logs, but her scream echoes down to those awaiting to begin their run as the rope by the ascent sways near the ground, signifying Trina grabbed ahold of her second rope.

   "You can do it!" Sawyer shouts down from the top, encouragingly.

   "They go in opposite directions!" Aurelie calls up.

   "Tynan, start," Emetterio ordered, observing his pocket watch rather than the course.

   𝔗rina makes it past the steps, then Rhiannon is called to start. She passes the first ascent with the grace her squadmates have come to expect from her before coming to a halt.

   𝔗ynan hangs from the second of the five buoy balls on the second ascent, right where the cliff's edge drops out. If he falls, he's got a minuscule chance of landing on the single spinning log from the first ascent and overwhelming odds of dropping thirty-feet to the ground below.

   "You have to keep moving, Tynan!" Violet shouts, though its doubtful he even heard from the distance. Res respects her squad loyalty, he surely wouldn't waste the breath.

   𝔗ynan shrieks in utter terror, his steadily weakening arms thrown around the swinging ball. It's impossible for him to reach his hands around the ball completely–𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝.

   "He's going to screw her time," Aurelie says, blowing out a bored sigh.

   "Good thing this is only practice, then." Ridoc says, then bellows up at Tynan, "What's the matter, Tynan? Scared of heights? Who's the liability now?"

   𝔚hilst Reserras snickers, Violet reaches around him to elbow Ridoc in the gut–though, Ridoc's not quite so lean now. The last seven weeks have put some muscle on him. "Just because he's a dick doesn't mean you have to be," she narrows her hazel eyes, sparkling in the sunlight trickling down the cliffside.

   "But he's giving me so much material to work with," Ridoc replies, a corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk as he backs away, heading toward the starting position.

   "Swing to the next one!" Trina suggests from the top of the course.

   "I can't!" Tynan's shrill shriek could break glass as it echoes down the mountain, and it makes Violet's chest tighten with sympathy as Reserras scoffs beneath his breath, rolling his eyes.

   "Ridoc, start!" Emetterio commands.

   ℜidoc charges over the log.

   "Rhi!" Violet shouts up, "The rope is between the first and second!"

   ℜhiannon nods down at Violet, then jumps from the cliff to the first buoy ball, clasping it up top, where the chains hold it to the iron rail above, and swings her weight around the side.

   𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟, Reserras thinks to himself whilst watching with a quirked brow.

   𝔊ravel crunches beneath his boots as Reserras moves to the starting position. He swallows past the knot attempting to form in his throat.

   𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠. He tucks a loose strand the wind swept from his braided bun behind his ear. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝐴𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙.

   ℜhiannon tugs the rope into Tynan's hand, but instead of using it to swing to the next ball, he climbs... down.

   ℜeserras isn't so surprised, 𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑. All roar, no bite.

   "Reserras, begin!" Emetterio orders.

   𝐵𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒, 𝑍𝑖ℎ𝑛𝑎𝑙. The god of luck.

   ℜeserras bolts up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

   𝔏ocking his center of gravity, Reserras crosses in mere seconds, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

   𝔗here are about three feet between them, and his long legs leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends.

   𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑏𝑖𝑡.

   ℌe jumps into the rotating wheel and runs, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watches it come around a second time. 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔.

   𝔗he opportunity comes and he seizes it, sprinting through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent.

   𝔗he buoy balls are just ahead.

   ℌe springs from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it by the chain like Rhiannon did.

   𝔗wisting his weight, Res forces the ball to rotate, swinging toward the next one. He repeats the motions, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping his eyes on the chain and nothing else. 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑡, 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

   𝔗he strain on his gloved palms–the sapphires embedded within the leather shimmering in the pale gold light–makes him tense, but he sharply expels a breath and shoves all emotion behind iron bars.

   ℌe reaches the fifth and final ball, and with one last swing, Reserras throws himself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path.

   𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡.

   𝔅ehind him, Violet leaps into the rotating wheel, emerging from it after two turns.

   ℜeaching the fourth ascent, Reserras lines his body up with the first metal rod and bounces on his heels with another sharp exhalation.

   𝔗here are four iron rails in front of him, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next.

   "Joining Elssy in the Scribe Quadrant has never looked more appealing," he grumbles under his breath, then launches himself toward the first.

   𝔗he texture gives the leather of his fingerless-gloves something to keep ahold of as he works his way across the glinting steel, hand over hand. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙.

   ℜeaching the end of the first rail, Res readjusts his grasp on the metal rail lodged into the cliff with thick chains and swings his feet to work up the momentum for the next dangling half a foot above him.

   𝔗he first clang of iron as the rails collide makes him cringe, then he throws himself to the next. He moves across the rail with the same hand over hand motion to the next one and then the next, until he finally lets go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar.

   ℜes' entire body is rattled as the thing shudders violently beneath him, and he leaps to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path awaiting at the end of the ascent.

   ℌe reaches the twisting logs jutting out from the side of the cliff, just as Violet begins the third ascent. Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest ascents of the Gauntlet.

   𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦.. 𝑛𝑜, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤. He blows out a sigh. 𝑊𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙.

   ℜes swallows down the terror and doubt trying to crawl its way through his galloping heart and instead focuses on the probability his agility and leanness will give him an edge on this particular obstacle.

   𝔅ut if he hesitates, even for but a second, he'll roll right off the edge and reunite with Raerion.

   𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑅𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦.

   ℌe bounces on his feet, dredging up whatever courage remains within him, then... he runs.

   ℌis feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few stuttering heartbeats, he's on the other side.

   "Fuck yeah!" Reserras hollers, throwing his fist up in triumph.

   "Go, Reserras!" Violet shouts with a smile, though her right hand slips from the metal rod and her weight swings her into the face of the steep mountainside, her cheek slamming into the rock with a resounding smack.

   ℜes winces.

   "Violet!" Rhiannon shouts from the top.

   "Next to you! The rope is next to you!" Aurelie calls from below her.

   𝔙iolet grabs ahold of said rope, but instead of climbing down, she regains herself then swings onto the metal rod once again to continue the ascent. Reserras expected no less.

   𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙.

   ℜeaching the fourth ascent, he looks up at the hollow chimney he's supposed to climb. 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑓𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑛𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑- 𝑜𝑟-𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑠. 𝐸𝑎𝑠𝑦. Res plants one foot on the side of the shaft then lifts his other foot, lithe body forming an X, and begins to climb up the chimney.

   𝔗he thundering of his heart consumes every other sound, but its his ankles and shoulders that begin to throb, nonetheless he grits his teeth and continues upwards.

   𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑝.

   ℜeserras pushes off the side of the shaft and grasps the edge of the ascent, lifting himself out of the shaft and onto his booted feet with a grunt.

   "Hell yes!" Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. "That's my boy!"

   ℜes huffs, rolling his eyes, yet an amused grin tugs at his lips.

   "One more!" Sawyer shouts.

   ℌis lungs begin to ache with every frigid breath he takes, but he springs toward the last obstacle. He's on the last ascent, the final path to the flight field, and standing in front of him is a ramp of wood that juts out ten feet from the cliff wall, then curves upward like the inside of a bowl, the highest point level with the cliff top ten feet above.

   𝔗he obstacle 'tis meant to test a cadet's ability to scale a dragon's foreleg and reach it's saddle.

   𝔄nd Reserras charges.

   𝔗here's a drumlike sound as the heels of his boots beat against the ramp, and the incline sharpens. He throws his body upward, running up the side of the ramp, momentum carrying most of his weight.

   ℌe waits until he feels the precious shift, the moment gravity reclaims his body almost two feet from the top, then swings his arm up. His fingers clasp onto the tip of the edge, and he throws his elbow over the top to gain more leverage and pull himself up and over, lurching onto the top of the cliff.

   ℜelief sucks the adrenaline straight out of his body. 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑡!

   𝔒nce his feet are upon solid ground, arms suddenly encase his lithe form within an embrace and spins him around. Reserras chuckles–Ridoc and Sawyer.

   𝔗hey pat his back in praise, and Res gifts them a smile of gratitude.

   𝔄 roar sounds overhead, and they jerk their gazes up just in time to see the underbelly of a Green Daggertail as it flies directly overhead them, headed back to the Vale, no doubt.

   ℜes figures after a month, he'd get used to that, to them, but he supposes no one ever really does.

   𝔖uddenly, from the twisting posts, Aurelie cries out and everyone's gaze snaps towards her just in time to see her wobble and slip on the fifth post.

   ℜhiannon gasps as Aurelie careens forward, her belly hitting the next-to-last spinning log.

   "Aurelie!" Violet screams, lunging for her, fingertips skimming the seventh post.

   𝔗heir eyes meet, shock and terror filling her wide black eyes as the post rolls away from her and Aurelie falls... halfway down the cliff.

   ℜeserras flinches when the macabre sound of crunching bones echoes across the mountainside when Aurelie meets the bottom of the course, his breath trembling when he expels it.

   𝑆ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑.

   "Oh, gods," Rhiannon mutters, hands flying to her mouth as tears glisten in her eyes.

   𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡.

   𝔙elvety shadows swirl around Res' ankles, gently squeezing, and he twists around to see Xaden stood beneath an oak tree several feet away with a gold stopwatch in hand. 

   ℌe resists the urge to lunge into his arms, 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙, 𝑅𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ.

   𝔈metterio's words ring through his mind, "You don't have to get used to it, but you do have to function through it." And so, he does his best too.

   ℌe walks over to Xaden, every step thudding in his ears, whom meets him halfway, withholding his own urge to envelope them within the shadows to shield Reserras from this unforgiving world of theirs.

   ℌe's witnessed death countless times now, and found it never got any easier, he just got better at hiding the effect it held over him.

ℑn moments like these, Xaden 'tis reminded what little time he could have with Reserras–the man he's loved since he learned the meaning of the word.

𝔊ods, he couldn't ever loose him, not to anything.

"Are you alright, Res?" He asks softly, and Reserras shrugs, "No. I mean.. I didn't really know Aurelie, and yet..."

"Its never an easy thing, to see a squadmate fall," Xaden sighs. He flattens his palms on Res' neck, his thumbs rubbing circles on his soft skin, and presses their heads together. "But its going to happen over and over again." He speaks softly, only for his man to hear. "Its the nature of what happens here. You'll never get used to it, but you need to find a way to go on afterwards, no matter what it is. Curse the gods, cry into your pillow, fuck, hit me even, just.. find a way, Reserras, or it'll eat you alive until nothings left."

𝔛aden's seen it happen before in this godsforsaken quadrant, it nearly happened to him, more than once. He won't let grief consume Reserras... 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

𝔈xpelling a breath, Res lifts his hands to hold Xaden's wrists, lashes resting against his high cheekbones as his eyes fall close.

   ℌe's already taken a life–𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔–he found no joy in it, yet somehow that 'twas different. He controlled that moment, the strike of his blade–𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑄𝑦𝑙𝑒–but this... he had absolutely no control over.

   𝔑o one did. Only Malek.

   𝔗hough, Reserras 'tisn't mourning for Aurelie, he realizes. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒... 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑜? No, he's mourning for his weeping heart, remembering the ones he's lost, the ones he'll never get to hold again.

   𝑀𝑜𝑚. 𝐷𝑎𝑑. 𝑅𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛.

   𝔎nowing he 'twere just in shock, he does what Xaden told him to do, and shoves those wretched memories behind iron bars and shakes everything else away.

   𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛, he tells himself.

   "Ressy?"

   𝔅reathing the crisp air searing through his lungs, Reserras opens his eyes, and gazes into those irises of gold-speckled onyx he loves so fucking much. "I found a way," he tells him.

  𝔗hen he shivers, the adrenaline having since faded and the cold chill of September seeping into his bones. Xaden wastes not a moment to shrug off his flight jacket and drape it across Res' shoulders.

   𝔛aden's intoxicating, yet oh so comforting, scent envelopes Reserras, the warmth embedded within the leathers shielding him from the biting cold, and the subconscious thoughtfulness flutters through Res' heart, awakening those damned butterflies.

   "Thanks," he grins, kissing the corner of Xaden's mouth.

   ℌe swears the man's cheeks flush but it could've been a trick of the light for it 'twere gone in an instant.

༻*✽*༺

—'𝕿isn't until the next night, when Violet decides to bear Aurelie Donans' things to the burn pit.

   𝔒nce outside the dormitory hall, Dain stops them in the center of the rotunda, moonlight spilling through the ceiling dancing across their features. "You're sure about this?" Worry creases his brows as he clasps Violet's shoulders.

   "If her parents aren't coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I'm the last one she saw," she tells him, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie's pack.

   𝔈very Basgiath parent 'tis given the same option when their cadet is killed–they could either come to retrieve the body and personal effects for burning or burial, or the school 'twill put their body under yet another stone and burn their effects themselves.

   𝐴𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝑆𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

   "And you don't want me to go with you?" Dain asks, palming her neck.

   𝔙iolet shakes her head with a little grin, "I know where the burn pit is."

   ℌe mutters a curse, "I should have been there." 

   "You couldn't have done anything, Dain," she says softly in the silence of the hall, laying her hand on his own to lace their fingers. "None of us could have. She didn't even have time to reach for the rope," she whispers.

   𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦. 𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒. 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒.

   "I never got the chance to ask if you made it all the way up," he says.

  𝔚ith a sigh, Violet shakes her head, "I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I'm too short to span the distance, but I'm not thinking about that tonight. I'll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet."

   𝐼'𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑑𝑎𝑦. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑡... 𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ.

   "All right. Let me know if you need me," he lets her go.

   𝔗he weight of Aurelie's pack upon her shoulders 'tis staggering as she treks through the academic wing of the citadel. She was strong enough to carry so much across the parapet, and yet she fell.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝔙iolet couldn't shake the feeling she 'twere carrying Aurelie with her as she climbs the stairs of the tower's turret, past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

𝔗he burn pit 'tis nothing glorious. Its nothing more than a wide iron barrel laid in the center of the turret's roof, whose only purpose 'tis to incinerate.

   𝔗he orange- and-yellow flames burn bright against the night sky as she stumbles onto the roof, her lungs straining for oxygen.

   𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑜, 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦.

   𝔖he hadn't noticed anyone else as she slips the pack from her shoulders. "I'm so sorry," Violet whispers, her fingers digging into the straps of the pack as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

   𝔗he flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the flickering fire–𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘.

   𝔗hough, when she goes to leave, Violet notices long silvery hair shimmering beneath the moonlight and recognizes Reserras with a stutter of her heart.

   ℌe 'twere leaning against the stone crenellations, gazing out into the valley beyond whilst his long locks flutter in the crisp breeze as his shoulders softly rise and fall.

   𝔚ith a breath, Violet joins his side, gripping the stone as she admires the view stretching out beneath them–the yawning valley beneath the ravine with the Iakobus River rippling in the glistening moonlight.

   '𝔗is a beautiful sight, she thinks.

   𝔖he doesn't know why she didn't just leave Reserras to himself and return to the barracks.

   𝔇ain would've told her too, Rhiannon, as well as, her, perhaps smarter, instincts, yet the litte voice within her growing louder these past weeks tells her to stay, and, as she's often been doing, Violet listens to it.

   𝐼𝑓 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑?

   "Donans' things?" Reserras breaks the serene stillness that befell them after a minute.

   𝔙iolet nods, tucking a brunette-silver strand behind her ear when it agitates her scraped cheek, "Yeah." She expels a breath, heavily laden with sorrow, "I still remember the look in her eyes before she fell."

   "You'll never get used to it." His voice is soft in the stillness. "But..." a breath, "you'll get better at hiding it."

   𝔖he looks at his side profile in the moonlight–his chiseled features, his long pearlescent hair, and his brisk irises–and thinks he looks beautiful like this. "Hiding what? That I grieve for a fallen friend?"

   "Grief is a dangerous thing, Sorrengail. If you let it consume you."

   𝔖he blinks, "... I know." Neither of them are new to it, far from it. 'Tis a sad thing to have in common. "So why are you up here?"

   ℜes' shoulders rise and fall with a breath, clasping his wrist, "Just.. thinking, I suppose. We've gone since Parapet without a loss and now..."

   "Our luck has run dry." She finishes, and Res' chest rumbles with a hum.

   𝔗he only sound to break the silence that overfell the pair 'twere the whistling breeze, and the distant calls of dragons drifting through the wind.

   "You know the problem with this place?" She speaks softly, an octave higher than the breeze, and a lock of silver falls over Res' shoulder when he looks at her, lifting a brow. "Hope."

   ℌis brows crease, tilting his head, "Hope?"

   "Hope," she nods. "I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn't matter that I've been trained my entire life to enter the Scribe Quadrant; when General Sorrengail gives an order, you can't exactly ignore it."

   ℜeserras shrugs, "Oh, I'm sure you could. You just might not like the consequences," he smirks.

   𝔄 huff of amusement falls from her lips, "I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance I would live. And then I make it almost two months and I get..." She shakes her head, clenching her jaw, "Hopeful." The word tastes sour.

   ℌe frowns, realizing where all this 'tis coming from. "Then obstacles that seem unbeatable rear their ugly heads and you consider quitting."

   𝔄n argument sits on the tip of her tongue, though, before she need too, Reserras continues softly, "I'm not judging you, Sorrengail. Everyone hits their low points. What defines us, as riders, as ourselves, is what we do in those moments. Sit there and quit," he shrugs, "so be it. Or, figure out a way to conquer it before it conquers us."

   𝔖he looks into his eyes, truly looks at him, and her heart flutters at the conviction within his tone. "I'm too short to span the distance of the chimney."

   𝔄 smirk curls his lips, "The right way isn't the only way, Violet."

   𝔖he blinks, then looks at the scenery outstretching below them for endless miles, her mind soaking in his words for several long minutes, wondering what he meant.

   𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦?

   𝔖he decides to dwell upon it later. "So," a devious grin blooms across her lips, "are you sleeping with our wingleader?"

   ℜes snorts, lips pulling upward into a grin she thinks fits him so damned well, wishing he would smile more, looking at her with an amused twinkle in his odd-colored eyes, "No. Are you fucking Aetos?"

   𝔙iolet chuckles, shaking her head, "No. I think Tynan's just jealous." Res snickers, nodding.

   𝔑ot long after, the bells ring–curfew–and Reserras' eyes trace the winged shadows descending onto the flight field beyond, three of them.

   "You coming down?" Violet asks, and he blinks, then shakes his head, "I think I'll stay up here a bit longer." And so, with a parting grin, she leaves the roof.

𝔒nce alone with only his thoughts, Reserras expels a breath. He knows he should return to the barracks, lest any superior find him, but the night 'twere so damned peaceful, quiet. He basks in it for a while longer. 

   𝔗hough, he 'tweren't really thinking, merely feeling, listening, to the night falling heavy over the slumbering world he sometimes thinks he hates, and yet couldn't imagine anywhere else he'd belong.

𝔗he cracks in the stones beneath his fingertips, the echoing calls of owls, the crisp breeze tousling his loose silver hair, and the crackling of the blazing flames behind him, the warmth of its fiery breath.

𝔗hen, amidst the tranquility he's rarely felt since the day he crossed the parapet, Res hears the soft patter of footsteps ascending the spiraling stairwell unto the rooftop.

𝔖omehow, he just knows 'tisn't any superior to fret about.

𝔄 grin blooms across his lips when the shadows swirl around him and arms slither around his waist. Xaden.

𝔛aden leaves not an inch between their bodies as he hugs Reserras from behind, resting his cheek against his back, more feeling than hearing the beat of his Ressy's strong heart.

𝔗hump. Thump. Thump. He sighs, content, closing his onyx eyes as Res' warmth and scent returns his embrace, cocooning him within something safe, something that sings the word home.

ℜeserras leans into his embrace, letting the silence envelope them for several minutes, before he speaks up, "How did it go? Was there any trouble?"

ℌe feels Xaden shake his head, "No. They're demanding more because of the increasing attacks, but we'll find a way."

𝔄 hum rumbles through his chest, "You always do, my oh so great wingleader." Res teases, and chuckles when Xaden pinches his ribs. "Hush, Ressa," he grumbles.

ℜes chuckles again, the sound pouring warmth like sunbeams into Xaden's being, lifting the weight of his every burden from his shoulders.

"I could help," Res offers. Xaden rests his chin on Res' shoulder, "I know you could. But I don't want to risk it, not until after you bond and learn to shield."

ℜeserras nods, knowing that's the best he'll ever get. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ. 𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡.

'𝔗is silent for another moment longer, before Res twists around in Xaden's embrace, holding his arms as he looks into his curious gaze with a sigh. "Does it ever get any easier? Seeing a squadmate, anyone really, fall?"

𝔛aden's eyes dance between his, those gold flecks sparkling in the silvery light of the moon illuminating the darkness of the night. "No. It'll only get worse." He expels a soft breath, squeezing Res' waist, "But you'll get stronger along the way."

𝔗hose brisk irises–that fade into a bright pale blue depending on Res' mood–drift away from his, faraway within the depths of his mind. And Xaden leans his forehead against Reserras', "Tell me what you are thinking," he says softly.

𝔄 sigh, "I miss them." Reserras' eyes threaten to fill with tears, but he squeezes them shut for a minute to shove them away. "Being here is a constant fucking reminder I'll never see them again."

ℌe scoffs, bitterness a tight knot within his chest, "Will that get easier?"

𝔛aden just shakes his head.

"How do you live with it, Xae?"

ℌe shrugs, "Sparring. Leadership meetings. Flying with Sgaeyl. Anything to distract my mind."

"What about, when your lying there on your bed at night, stuck thinking about them?"

"Normally I wasn't alone those nights," the words are acid on his tongue, but he needed those short hours of numb bliss only warm bodies could provide to shield himself against the spiraling of his mind.

ℜeserras pretends his heart didn't pinch at those words. 𝑊𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟. "Well, that's not really an option for me."

𝐼𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒, but Xaden shoves those lustful thoughts away, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤, he tells himself. "Churam is always another way to distance yourself."

ℜes grunts, scrunching his nose–𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦–"A nasty habit." Xaden chuckles, full of a warm feeling in his chest even as the chill of the night seeps into his bones.

   𝔖lithering his arms around Reserras' waist, he pulls the man into his chest. The scent of those lavender oils Res uses in his long hair wafting into his nose as he combs his fingers through those silken depths of dripped starlight.

   "You'll find a way, Ressy. You always do. And in the moments when you can't, I'll be here. 𝑨𝒏-𝒄𝒐̀𝒎𝒉𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒉." ( always )

   𝔚ith his ear above Xaden's beating heart, Res didn't quite know whose heart beat just a little faster, but he does know that the weight upon his shoulders lifted ever so slightly at those whispered words.

   𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑋𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑅𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛. 𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

__________•༻*✽*༺•__________

༻ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༺

Resden, 🤧.

Violet and Res' first little bonding moment, 😁, and for those worrying, no, it will not be a threesome, and for those that would've liked it, I'm sorry, but I could be tempted to do a Violet x OC fic after this one...