•𝟖.𝟐𝐊•

( warning—this chapter contains minor explicit sexual content
;) oh, yes, it is finally here, my lovelies )

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎

𝖂ith dappled sunbeams spilling through the windows, drenching his bedroom in Duke Lindell's manse in golden light, young Reserras lay upon the large bed, with Xaden beside him.

   𝔚hilst Reserras rests on his side, scarred cheek on a silky pillow, Xaden lays on his stomach, arms crossed beneath the pillow Res normally uses, breathing his Ressy's scent as he softly hisses in pain.

   𝔗he familiar, unique smell of sandalwood, leather, and citrus wafting into his nose with every breath soothes the agony engulfing his back.

   𝔗he pained noises squeeze Res' young heart, and his eyes flicker to the hundred-and-twelve raw and ripped slashes all marring Xaden's back in no particular pattern, jagged and leaking beads of blood.

   𝔗he sight made his heart hurt even more so. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤, ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛. The thought brings tears to his eyes, but he doesn't allow them to fall.

   𝐻𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑒, 𝑛𝑜, 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚.

   𝔗he pearlescent beauty lifts his hand and tentatively brushes the very tips of his fingers on the tawny-skin of Xaden's back, only for his muscles to twitch in pain.

   ℜeserras withdraws his hand with a soft intake of breath, and only once Xaden's features relaxed, did he lower his hand again. And this time, when he flattens his palm upon the midsection of Xaden's spine, the young man expels a blissful sigh.

   𝔗he throbbing and burning pain seemingly subsiding where his Ressy's hand lay.

   ℜes' hands had always been so warm to the touch, as if sunlight rests beneath his flesh, and soft as if they were woven from the most expensive silk.

𝔖uddenly, Xaden 'tis reminded of a story a much younger Reserras once told him, before the Rebellion 'twas even a thought.

ℌis chest rumbles with an exhausted hum, gold-speckled eyes tiredly flicking open to look at the most beautiful sight he's ever seen–his Reserras.

"What was that story? The one your mother told you a couple years ago."

𝔗he little snort of merriment from Res dulls the pain rippling through his skin and bones, only it doesn't last as his chest tightens with sorrow when grief roams Res' eyes at the mention of his recently murdered parents–like all the other "marked ones", as they 'twere now being called.

"Which one?"

𝔗he corner of Xaden's lips twitch with an amused smirk, "The one about the droplet of the sun, or something."

𝔄h, Reserras remembers now.

ℌis mother first told the story to him after his father returned from an outpost with his red dragon, telling his family that he'd seen the white beauty, the last of the seventh den of dragons, with his own eyes.

𝔚ith his thumb rubbing soothing circles along Xaden's raw skin, Reserras tells him the story,

"The sun and the moon were once lovers, but one day the moon left. When the stars told the sun he would never see his great love ever again, he wept. And one of his tears was said to have fallen unto the earth and thus the first White was born."

𝔖hifting slightly, Res grins to himself, "Father said the one he saw was beautiful. Extraordinary. Its eyes were the sun itself, white scales like snow and pale gold fire. They're supposedly the most powerful of the seven dens." He chuckles, "Mom said our hair matches their scales, and Nessy had little Nerya convinced we were connected to the white dragons."

𝔅ut then his little grin fades away at the memory of his lost siblings, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐸𝑙𝑠𝑠𝑦.

ℑgnorant, Xaden huffs in amusement, lazily smirking at his beloved as his heavy eyelids begin to droop, yet Xaden battles against the sleep threatening to steal him away from this moment.

𝔉or he wishes to forever gaze upon his beautiful ray of sunlight, his Reserras.

𝔚hom softly grins when he notices the sheer exhaustion lacing his handsome features. "Get some rest," Res whispers, brushing a nightblack tendril of hair from Xaden's face.

".. And you'll stay?"

"For eternity."

𝔄nd with those words, his promise, Xaden looses the battle against dreams of blue eyes, of hair like beams of sunlight, of lips like berry wine as his onyx eyes slip close, breathing softening.

༻*✽*༺

     —"Absolutely not!" One general shouts loud enough that even Reserras could hear her all the way from the little medical station at the end of the bleachers–'tis nothing but a row of a dozen tables and some flown-in supplies to tide them over until they can get to the Healers Quadrant.

𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒... 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠.

𝔄nd, so does Violet Sorrengail–who flew in on the daunting Black Morningstartail, Tairn, along with the little gold feathertail, several riders after him, to record her bond with the roll-keeper, who'd kept doing her job regardless of the generals arguing on the dais behind her, and the chaos only worsened.

𝔗he generals have been all but screaming at each other for the last half hour, long enough for a chill to settle in the damp night air and for an instructor Reserras has never met to sew his wounds.

𝔗hey 'twere only small gashes that hardly tore through muscle.

𝔄djusting his shirt–𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡–Reserras lifts his left foot onto the table to begin tying the laces, and glances at Violet on the table beside his. Professor Kaori 'tis tightening the straps around her splinted ankle.

   "How is that?" The professor asks.

   "Hurts like hell," she winces, but she's lucky she didn't break her leg like the girl from Second Wing, several tables down, did during dismount. Res shudders, counting his blessings.

   "You'll be focused on strengthening your bonds and riding for the next couple of months, so as long as you don't have trouble mounting or dismounting," his head tilts as he ties off the straps of her splint, "which, after what I saw, I don't think you will," 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟, "this sprain should heal before your next round of challenges."

   𝔗wo lines deepen between his brows, "Or I can call Nolon – "

   "No," Violet shakes her head. "I'll heal."

   "If you're sure?" His tone suggests he isn't.

   "Every eye in this valley is either on me and my dragon–dragons," she corrects herself, "or Reserras and his," she meets his eyes, her heart fluttering, "I can't afford to appear weak."

   𝔚hilst Kaori frowns but nods, Reserras gives her an approving smirk. She grins in return.

   "Do you know who made it out of our squad?" She asks, fear knotting her throat, praying to every god they're alive and bonded.

   "I haven't seen Trina or Tynan," Professor Kaori answers slowly, like he's trying to soften a blow. To her, it doesn't.

   ℜeserras hums to himself, standing with a grunt and testing his weight on his left leg.

   "Tynan won't be coming," she whispers, guilt gnawing at her stomach.

   "I see," Kaori murmurs.

   "What the hell do you mean you think it needs surgery?" Jack Barlowe bellows from his own table a dozen feet away, and Res narrows his eyes in the asshole's direction.

ℌe admits, disappointment filled him when he saw the nuisance fly in on an Orange Scorpiontail.

"I mean, it looks like the weapon severed a couple of ligaments, but we'll have to get you to the healers to be sure," the other instructor says, his voice infinitely patient as he secured Jack's sling.

𝔙iolet looks Jack in those cold icicle eyes, and smiles. Res snorts.

ℜage mottles his cheeks in the mage light, and he swings his feet over the end of his table and charges toward Violet. "You!"

ℜeserras narrows his eyes, fingertips itching with a desire to grab a dagger and plunge it into Jack's throat.

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡," Fola's cold voice resounds throughout his mind, and Res blinks.

"I what?" Violet slips off the end of her table, leaving her hands loose by the sheaths at her thighs.

ℜeserras joins her side, glancing between them as Professor Kaori watches the riders silently. "You?" He smirks. Violet mirrors it, keeping her focus on Jack, "Me."

𝔅efore Barlowe could come any closer, Reserras grips the man's shredded shoulder, very intentionally digging his thumb into the wound, "You want another hole in your body?" Res lifts a taunting brow, tilting his head as Jack squirms in his unyielding hold, "No? Then back your ass up, Barlowe."

𝔄lthough he sneers with a pained grunt, Barlowe, 𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑦, backs away a step, turning his glare onto Violet, "Hiding behind the men now, Sorrengail?" His uninjured fist curls.

"I didn't hide out there, and I'm not hiding here." She raises her chin as Reserras returns to her side, "I'm not the one who ran."

"She doesn't need to hide behind me when she's bonded to one of the most powerful dragons of our year," Reserras smirks, and Barlowe's glacial gaze narrows on him.

𝔓rofessor Kaori steps in, "Your orange is a good choice, Barlowe. Baide, right? She's had four other riders before you."

𝔍ack nods.

𝔎aori looks over his shoulder at the line of the newly bonded dragons, "As aggressive as Baide might be, from the way Tairn, Grian, and Fola's looking at you, they'll have no problem scorching your bones into the earth if you take another step toward their riders."

𝔍ack's gaze flickers between them in disbelief, "You two?"

𝔙iolet straightens her shoulders, "Us." Reserras winks at him, still smirking so maliciously.

𝔅arlowe shakes his head, and the look in his eyes goes from shock, to envy, to fear as he pivots toward the professor, "I don't know what she told you about what happened out there – "

   "Nothing," the instructor folds his arms across his chest. "Is there something I need to know?"

   𝔍ack pales, going white as a sheet in the flickering mage light as another injuried first-year hobbles over, blood streaming from his thigh and torso.

   "Everyone who needs to know already knows," Violet says.

   "Guess we're done for the night," Kaori finishes as several dragons soar in, only visible by their shadowy silhouettes in the darkness. "The senior riders are back. You three should return to your dragons."

   𝔍ack huffs, then marches off across the field.

   ℜeserras glances at the generals still gathered in heated discussion on the dais. "Professor Kaori, has anyone ever bonded two dragons?"

   ℌe figures above all he would know.

   𝔗he professor and riders turn toward the arguing leadership, and Res' gaze falls to Grian and Fola amidst the field, the other dragons gifting the mated pair a wide berth.

   "You two would be the first. Not sure why they're arguing about it, though. The decision won't be up to them."

   ℜes lifts his scarred brow, "It won't?" Wind gusts as dozens of dragons land on the opposite side of the first -years, rows of mage lights hanging between them.

   "Nothing about who dragons choose has ever been up to humans," Kaori assures them. "We only like to maintain the illusion that we're in control. Something tells me they've just been waiting for the others to make it back before they meet."

   "The leadership?" Violet's brow furrows.

   𝔎aori shakes his head, "The dragons."

   𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡?

   ℜeserras huffs. "I'd better get back over there." He offers the professor a tense grin then heads across the dimly lit field to Grian and Fola, feeling the weight of every stare in the valley.

   "Reserras." Violet calls after him, and Res stops halfway toward his dragons, turning to her as she catches up with a slight limp to her trot.

   "Thank you for defending me against Jack." She fiddles with her thumbs, "I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but I don't need protection from bullies like him."

   𝔄 smirk of approval curls Reserras' soft mouth, "Oh, I know. I just couldn't resist the temptation."

   𝔙iolet chuckles, looking into Reserras' eyes as he looks into hers for a moment, before she blinks and with an awkward nod, walks off to her dragons.

   ℜes blinks, as well, then goes to his own, standing between the pair.

   "The both of you, Tairn, and the little one, are causing quite the ruckus, you realize." He looks at Fola as she, without a bother in the world, lays on the grass with her forelegs crossed, lethal daggertail similar to Sgaeyl's flicking, then glances up at Grian.

   𝔗heir tails coil as he turns around, facing the field like all the other first-year riders. "They're not going to let any of you do this."

   𝔒h Malek, what if they make him choose between them? His stomach plummets.

   "𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑦𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒," Grian says, but even his tone has an edge of tension. "𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒."

   "What might – " His question dissolves on his tongue as a big black dragon stalks toward them from the opening to the valley.

   𝔈ach dragon it passes walks into the center of the field and trails within its shadow, gathering dozens as it walks, sheer authority dripping from its ominous scales.

"That's..."

"𝐶𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑔ℎ."

𝔊eneral Melgren's dragon.

𝔗he very dragon whom scattered his parents to the wind and, unintentionally, brandished his arm with the infamous rebellion mark all the separatists' kids bore upon their arms.

ℜeserras glances at the patchy holes in his battle-scarred wings as he comes closer, his cold golden gaze focused on Grian in a way that makes him nauseous.

ℭodagh growls, low in his throat, turning those sinister eyes on Reserras–a marked one.

𝔊rian, much the larger than Codagh, rumbles his own growl, echoed by another from Fola, his fierce mate, whom stands to her full height now.

ℌe swears something flickers within Codagh's malicious eyes when they look at Fola, something soft, something... he couldn't quite place for it vanished the moment Grian steps forward so Reserras 'tis between his massive golden claws.

𝔗here's zero doubt in Res' mind that he 'tis the subject of all three disgruntled snarls.

"𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛," Grain orders.

𝔚ithout even thinking of questioning Grian's words, Reserras' eyes glance around the crowd until they find Xaden standing across the field, his arms crossed and legs spread as he stares at Grian.

   𝔗he suffocating weight upon his chest lifts away and all Reserras wishes to do is rush across the distance to Xaden, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡.

   𝔗he riders are eerily silent as the dragons empty the meadow, taking flight in a steady stream near the end and landing halfway up the southernmost peak in a shadowy grouping Res can barely define in the moonlight.

𝔗he second the last of the dragons flies off, chaos erupts.

𝔉irst-years swarm the center of the field, shouting in exuberance and searching for their friends. Before he decides to rush over to Xaden, Res' gaze sweeps over the crowd, hoping for some glimpse of –

   "Liam!" He shouts, spotting Liam in the mob and jogging his way.

   "Reserras!" The blonde tugs him into an embrace, pulling away with a smile. "The fucking White Speartail!"

   ℜeserras chuckles when he's suddenly snatched off his feet by Garrick's familiar thick arms, spun around as his feet fly out in front of him.

   "Look at our badass here! Riding in on the White Speartail!"

   ℜeserras snickers. "Put him down," Liam chides, though he smiles anyway.

   𝔒nce the soles of his boots meet solid ground, a synchronous of Reserras' name being called out resounds over the cacophony in the center of the field as the remaining first-years in his squad trot over to the three of them.

   ℜaelon and Amara among them.

   𝔈mbraces are shared between the riders, patting each other's backs as they laugh with relief.

   ℜidoc 'tis halfheartedly shoved aside by Raelon, so the older brother may drag Reserras into an embrace, stroking his silver hair with one hand as the other traces Res' spine the way that soothes him.

𝔄nd Res breathes easier in his brother's arms, his natural scent of cinnamon and pine settling all of his worries for those short seconds within Raelon's embrace.

   ℜaelon chuckles, "You did it, Ressy." Then pulls away, flattening his palms on Res' cheeks, kissing the side of his head numerous times. "You bonded."

   ℜes holds his brother's wrist, resting his head against Raelon's for a moment before he kisses his brow and steps away as Garrick slings his arm around his broad shoulders, tugging the shorter pale-haired man into his side, and Violet asks the big question, "Who did you guys bond?"

   "Green Daggertail!" Rhiannon's face splits into a grin, "Feirge. And it was just... easy," she sighs. "I saw her and just knew."

   "Aotrom," Ridoc says with pride. "Brown Swordtail."

   "Sliseag!" Sawyer throws his arms around Rhiannon's and Ridoc's shoulders. "Red Swordtail!" Second Squad cheers, and more hugs are shared. Out of all of them, they're happiest for Sawyer, for all he's had to endure to be here, with them.

   "And you, Mara?" Violet smiles at her twin. Amara mirrors it, "Crith! Brown Swordtail."

   ℜaelon smirks at the youngest Sorrengail, "I said so, didn't I? You'd have no trouble bonding." And Amara blushes at the sudden praise. Snickering between themselves, Res and Violet knowingly grin.

   "But of course, we all know of Reserras' gi-fucking-gantic dragons. The White Speartail one of them," Ridoc grins.

   ℜeserras shyly looks to his boots, curling his toes, then looks into his squadmates' curious eyes. He only shrugs, "I didn't seek him out, he.. just came to me."

   "Even more badass," says Sawyer, grinning from ear to ear.

   𝔊arrick chuckles, squeezing Reserras' shoulder, "Cadet Reserras Atonal, rider of the legendary Grian and the elusive Black Daggertail."

   𝔗he others laugh and cheer in agreement, Raelon proudly smirking at his brother, and Res shyly tucks his head between his shoulders, cheeks burning underneath all the sudden praise.

   ℌe honestly didn't even know if the Empyrean, as Grian called it, 'twould even allow him to remain bonded with them.

   "Trina?" Violet asks. One by one, they shake their heads, looking to the others for answers. "I mean... there's a possibility she's just unbonded, right?"

𝔚ith sorrow slacking his shoulders, Sawyer shakes his head, "I saw her fall from the back of an Orange Clubtail."

𝔙iolet's hopeful eyes fall crestfallen, her heart sinking into the pit of despair, and Res frowns at his words.

"Tynan?" Ridoc's brown gaze jumps between his squad and the marked ones at Res' side.

"Tairn killed him," Violet says softly, "In his defense, Tynan had already run me through once," she gestures to the wound on her arm. "And he was trying to – "

"He tried what?"

𝔙iolet 'tis suddenly spun around by the shoulders and pulled into Dain's chest. She reciprocates the embrace as her arms wind around his back.

"Damn it. Violet. Just... damn." He squeezes her tight, then pushes her to arm's length. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she assures him, but that doesn't quell the worry in his eyes. "But we're all that's left of our squad's first-years."

𝔇ain's gaze rises to look at the others and he nods, "Five out of nine. That's," his jaw ticks once, "to be expected. The dragons are currently holding a meeting of the Empyrean–their leadership. Stay here until they return," he says to the members of his squad, ignoring Garrick, Liam, and Raelon's presence, before looking down at Violet and Amara, "You both with me."

𝔗hen the three leave to the opposite edge of the field, disappearing from sight.

ℜeserras expels a long breath, thinking about the clusterfuck this entire day has been as his squad begins to converse around him–telling each other how they bonded with their dragons, and so forth.

ℌe truly 'tweren't paying much attention.

𝔅ut his thoughts 'twere interrupted when velvety shadows stream through the grass and curl around his ankles, only to, rather intensely, tug at the limbs. If not for Garrick's grip around his shoulders, he would've face-planted.

ℜeserras heartily shoves Garrick's arm off his shoulders, "I'll be right back." Then, he ventures into the darkness behind them where he knows the shadows 'twill lead him to Xaden.

𝔄nd the moment he sees him amidst the darkness along the edges of the field, Res notices the tension rippling through Xaden's shoulders, the shadows that spasm around their wielder as he relentlessly paces across the swaying grass.

ℑt worries Reserras, "Xaden?"

𝔛aden turns toward him. "Reserras," he breathes. 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑚 𝐼 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠? He sighs. 𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠.

"I didn't do this. Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I'd ever want to be chained too."

ℜeserras' dark brows only crease in confusion, slightly shaking his head, the tendrils of his silver hair that fell loose in the forested valley an hour ago moving with the motion. "I.. I don't understand. What do you mean?"

𝔗he twitching shadows suddenly wind around the men, concealing them within the darkness, away from any wondering eyes, as Xaden surges toward Reserras, standing toe to toe, and grips the man's wrists harshly, yet never enough to burise his porcelain skin.

𝔄nd the sheer–𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡.. 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟?–within his onyx eyes unnerves Reserras, it near damn well terrifies him. Because Reserras has never seen Xaden like this, ever, not even when they 'twere told their parents' rebellion had failed and they 'twould be forced to watch their executions.

𝔛aden Riorson 'twas always calm, collected–always donning a perfected mask of indifference–𝑠𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠?

"Xaden, what the fuck is wrong? What are you saying?" A breath. "You're kind of scaring me."

"No, no. I'm sorry, Ressy. I'm... I-It's just..." He expels a sharp breath, "They're a mated pair, Sgaeyl and Tairn. The second strongest bonded pair in centuries after Grian and Fola."

ℜeserras doesn't even blink at his words, nor does his heart beat for a solid minute, he's certain of.

ℑnstead, his mind spins within a maelstrom of thoughts.

𝔐ated pairs couldn't be separated for long or their health 'twould diminish, so they're always stationed together.

𝔄lways.

𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 –

𝔛aden Riorson 'tis tethered to Violet Sorrengail.

𝑂ℎ. 𝐺𝑜𝑑𝑠.

ℑt all means if Violet-fucking-Sorrengail dies, it 'twill set off a chain event that could potentially end with Xaden dying, too.

   ℌis Xaden.

   𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘.

   𝔈verything hits Reserras all at once and his knees tremble as his feet feel so damn unsteady, the corner of his seeing eye blurs as his tight chest begins to silently heave, he feels sick.

   ℌe suddenly remembers the way Violet looked at Xaden when he sparred with her at the end of on-mat challenges before Gauntlet training began.

   𝔗he way she always looks at him.

   𝔈ither like she wants to fuck her anger out on him, or punch his perfect face.

   "𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑒." Grian commands.

   ".. Ressy?"

   ℜes' long lashes flutter, squeezing his eyes shut and rigidly shaking his head of its thoughts as hands hold him steady with strong grips on his elbows.

   𝔑o, he can't think about this now, not when he's not even sure if he and Sorrengail 'twill be allowed to remain bonded with their dragons.

   "Its all right," he forces out, curling his fingers around Xaden's wrist, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡.

   "Reserras..."

   ℜeserras just shakes his head, his hands drifting upward to softly grip Xaden's thick biceps, and leans his head against his. "No," he whispers in the space between them, "This... this doesn't have to change anything."

   𝔗he shadow wielder's onyx eyes fall closed, dark brows bent in such anguish as rage stirs within him at this stupid and unfair situation. "It will change everything."

   𝔖ilence.

   "I know."

   𝔅iting down on his bottom lip, Xaden's unwavering hands latch onto his Ressy's lithe waist like he fears the man 'twill disappear if he lets him go.

"Reserras, I..." The words fall heavy on his tongue, and Xaden found he could not speak them aloud, but Res only grins and presses his soft lips against the corner of his mouth.

𝔗he ignorant "lovebirds" pull away from one another with reluctance when the first of the dragons lands on the illuminated field. "The dragons are returning."

ℜeserras looks into those onyx eyes he loves, more beautiful than any gem or crystal in this world, and gifts him a grin that doesn't fully reach his eyes before returning to the field, standing between Ridoc and Sawyer, with Rhiannon and Violet near them.

𝔜et all 'twere evenly spaced out for their gigantic dragons.

𝔄 gust of wind slams into his back followed by shuddering ground when Grian and Fola land behind him, their claws digging into the earth and ripping apart the dirt.

ℌe feels those velvet shadows gently squeeze his ankles–desperately, 'tis the word to come to mind–and his eyes drift to Xaden sauntering across the field to where Sgaeyl overshadows the other wingleaders' dragons.

ℌis gaze floats across the other dragons of the quadrants' leadership, finding Raelon standing in front of his Red Swordtail, Marth. And the dragon 'tis truly terrifyingly magnificent to behold.

ℌis scarlet scales 'twere bright as copper in the shimmering moonlight, and crimson spiked-horns adorned his head, like a crown of spikes. His muscled frame 'tis slender but strong, built for agility and swift fighting. Along those scarlet scales are countless scars, both old and new–reminders of every battle he began and emerged victorious.

   𝔄s if sensing his stare, Marth's baleful gaze snaps toward him and Res immediately looks away.

   𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑?

   "𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒." 'Tis Grian's response, his voice gruff.

   𝔗he whole Empyrean 'tis a new term for everyone, and Reserras figures Kaori must be in heaven with all the dragon politics coming to light.

   𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒?

   "𝐴𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡?" Fola grumbles, her spiked daggertail swishing and stirring the air behind them.

   𝑂𝑢𝑐ℎ.

   𝔅outs of dread mix with the inferno of rage filling Reserras' heart as General Melgren moves toward the front of the dais, his uniform dripping in glinting medals.

   ℌe's just as terrifying as he 'twas that day six years ago, and Res swallows a sudden lump in his throat. His enormous nightmare of a dragon fills the entire space beside the dais, and he swears he glimpses into a shattered mirror of the past.

   𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛?

   ℌe crosses his tension-laced arms behind his back, curling and uncurling his white-knuckled fists.

   𝔗hey stand just like they once did that day–the day he lost his parents, the day he last saw his siblings.

   ℌis heart beats so erratically within his chest Reserras could feel every vibration of every terrified beat and hear the thundering in his rushing ears, swearing it'll burst out of his rib cage. 

   𝔖hadows wind around his ankles and slither themselves up his long legs to interweave with his fingers. It settles him ever so slightly, but still, Res 'tis filled with such incredible terror and he despises near needing to be coddled like some weak fucking child, but in truth, he knows its just trauma.

   ℌe doesn't want it anymore, but 'tisn't something that could be wished away.

   𝔗he ground quivers beneath his feet and from the corner of his seeing eye, 'tis a massive gold claw and he knows the other is stood to his blind side, as well.

   "𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑚𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." Grian growls, keeping Res between his gigantic forelegs.

   𝔄nd with the most powerful dragon, certainly more powerful than Codagh, in all of the Continent at his side, Reserras' heart settles and he can breathe.

   𝔄 hush falls over the crowd as Melgren angles his hands in front of his face, "Codagh has relayed that the dragons have spoken regarding the Atonal boy and Sorrengail girl."

   𝔏esser magic allows his voice to magically amplify over the field for all to hear, and Res' stomach knots at his voice just the same as that wretched day, but then the gold claw at his side shifts closer and he forces himself to breathe deeply and evenly.

   𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝔗hose velvet shadows still coiled with his fingers begin caressing the smooth skin of his hand.

𝔄nd Reserras feels a sense of calm wash over him, only to realize with a start that 'tis Grian, lending him his emotions to settle his galloping heart.

𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢, he tells him.

"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔."

"While tradition has shown us that there is one rider for every dragon, there has never been a case of two dragons selecting a same rider, and therefore there is no dragon law against it," Melgren declares. An eager sense of anticipation straightens Reserras' back and stills his breath as the General continues, "While we riders may not feel as though this is... equitable," ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, "dragons make their own laws. Both Grian and Fola have chosen Reserras Atonal, and so their choice stands. As does the decision of Tairn and..." He looks over his shoulder and his aide rushes forward to whisper in his ear, "Andarna."

𝔗he crowd murmurs, but Reserras' shoulders fall in acute relief.

ℌe doesn't have to make an impossible choice nor will he become an unbonded forced to repeat.

"𝐴𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒," Grian grumbles. "𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠."

   𝔊eneral Sorrengail steps forward and makes the same gesture with her hands to project her voice, but Reserras cannot find it within himself to concentrate on what she 'tis saying as she closes out the formal portion of the Threshing Ceremony, promising the unbonded cadets another chance next year.

   𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠.

   𝔊rian chuffs, "𝐼'𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚e."

   ℜeserras Atonal belongs to Grianynevret and Folaguenell, and Violet to Tairn and Andarna... and, in some really fucked up way, his Xaden.

ℌe finds himself glancing across the field at the man, himself, whose shadows still remain interlocked with his fingers, caressing his ivory skin with their silky darkness.

𝔊arrick stands just off to his side with Chradh behind him–his Brown Scorpiontail.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Xaden hears Garrick ask whilst General Sorrengail prattles on.

".. No." 𝑂𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒.

𝔗he shadow wielder stands stiff in front of Sgaeyl, his arms crossed over his chest, brows set in a thoughtful line, staring at his girl's mate–Tairn–and the little feathertail.

"Right," the word drips with sarcasm.

"I'm fine." Xaden's gaze roams over the first-years who've survived Threshing, he surmises no more than a hundred 'twere bonded with dragons, from what he could tell in the dimly-lit darkness.

𝔗he list of riders kept growing smaller and smaller every year.

"I've seen corpses more fine than you."

"Of course corpses are fine," he shrugs. "They have nothing to worry about."

𝔄nd he's just been handed Violet-fucking-Sorrengail to protect if he wants to live. Which he does.

𝔈specially since Melgren just announced that both his Ressy and she get to bond their dragons.

𝔛aden lowers his shields just enough to feel for the bond. The hard sapphire one he shares with Sgaeyl 'tis locked into place as always, but now there are two more.

𝔗he onyx one he recognizes as Tairn, and the other, a glimmering strand of... silver, like the ends of her hair.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘. 𝐻𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟.

𝔒nly a mating bond like Sgaeyl and Tairn's could link him to another rider whether or not he wants it.

𝑂𝑓 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡, 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑙?

"𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠," Sgaeyl grumbles.

𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜. 𝐼 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑.

𝔖orrengail looks across the field at Xaden, and he slams his shields back into place, but he doesn't spare her the time of day–𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒–as he instead looks to Reserras.

𝔄nd the gigantic dragons behind him.

𝔗he white speartail, the last of his den, and his elusive mate, two of the most powerful dragons in the Continent.

ℌe thinks the story Res once told him about the white dragons 'tis true in this moment–a creature of dripped sunlight, with eyes like the sun and pure white scales interwoven with gold, and his fiery breath had indeed been a shimmering pale gold. His elegant tail 'tis long, lined with spikes, with a golden spearhead tip, sharp enough to slice through rock and bone with ease.

𝔄nd Fola 'tis terrifyingly beautiful, like his girl, with malicious golden eyes and scales as nightblack as a moonless sky. Lethal spikes ripple down her neck and spine, all the way toward her daggertail, that mirrors a shard of sparkling obsidian with a pointed tip sharper than the swords upon his back.

𝔛aden finds himself wondering what signets Reserras 'twill manifest in the coming months.

"Guess we'll need to keep her alive," Garrick mutters beside him as General Sorrengail meets the end of her yearly speech about family, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠.

"Yes." But how the hell is he going to keep her alive through all the first-year shit he's nowhere near?

   𝔛aden looks to his foster brother, Liam, standing in front of his Red Daggertail, Deigh. "Maybe I should move Liam into her squad."

   ℌe wouldn't mind putting his brother and Reserras in the same squad, either. It 'twould certainly settle one of the worries in his mind, knowing they could protect each other whenever he couldn't, especially after graduation.

   "Liam?"

   "Aside from Ressy, he's the best in the year. I trained him to fight, so I know he's capable of protecting her."

   "Or you could give her a chance to make it on her own first," Garrick folds his arms on his chest, glancing at Xaden from the corner of his eye. "But if that's the route you choose, everyone likes Liam, so hopefully she will, too. It will make it easier for him to guard her."

   "She'll like him," Xaden nods.

   "Welcome to the family that knows no boundaries, no limits, and no end." Cheers resound across the field as General Sorrengail continues, "Riders, step forward."

   ℜeserras shares a confused glance with Ridoc, hands still crossed behind his back, as all the other riders look left and right in uncertainty.

   "𝐹𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜." Grain says.

   ℜeserras takes them, as does everyone else.

   "Dragons, it is our honor as always," the Sorrengail general calls out. "Now we celebrate!"

   𝔄 familiar heat he's felt only one other time in his life blasts Reserras' back, and he hisses in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as his upper-lip curls, and riders on all sides of him cry out.

   ℌis entire back feels like its on fucking fire, and yet everyone across the field is cheering raucously, some of them racing their way. Other riders are caught up in embraces.

   "𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑡,"
Grian's rumbling voice fills his mind. "𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙."

   ℜes knows in that moment that they know how he and all the others truly received those relics, rather than the lies Melgren has spread over the last five years.

   𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 𝐶𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑔ℎ 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑇𝑦𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐.

   "𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑦 𝑢𝑠, 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡," Grian promises.

   "𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔." Fola agrees with her mate, Reserras does not see as his dragons' coil their spiked tails, affectionately.

   𝔗he pain fades to a dull ache, and Res glances over his shoulder. There's a solid white...something peeking out from the dragonscale armor. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡?

   ℜaelon shadowed by Bodhi and Imogen rush over to Reserras, smiling, "You kept both of them!"

   ℑmogen cups his cheeks and kisses the bottom half of his scar.

   "I guess I did," his lips curve. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙... 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦.

   "Where's your..." She lets go and both she and the boys circle behind him, wary not to upset the gigantic dragons nor even look at them.

   "Can I unlace this? Just the top?" She asks, tugging at the raised neck of the back of his dragonscale armour.

   ℜes nods, tendrils of his silver hair–many in the field thought matched the scales of the white–bounce to the motion. A few pushes and pulls later, the crisp October air nips at the base of his neck and chills creep along his spine.

   "Holy shit," Bodhi exclaims, "You have to see this."

   "𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒." Grian orders. "Grian says you should move."

   𝔗he three step aside, and, suddenly, his vision isn't his own. He's looking at his own back through... Grian's eyes.

   𝔄 back that has a glistening white and black relic of two dragons facing one another mid-hover, very nearly creating the shape of a heart, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, their coiled tails reaching just below his waist.

   "It's beautiful," he whispers.

   ℜeserras Atonal is now marked by their magic as a rider now, as their rider.

   "𝑊𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤." Fola huffs, proudly.

   ℜeserras blinks, then his vision is his again, and Imogen's hands lace up his armor quickly.

༻*✽*༺

     —𝕱ew hours after the Threshing Ceremony came to an end–𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦–Reserras, and all of the others who bonded, were shown to their individual rooms in the dorms.

ℜes' room 'tis across the hall from Ridoc's and next to Rhiannon's.

𝔚ith the relic of his dragons, 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠, tingling on the skin of his back, Reserras walks into his room, taking in the space as he closes the door behind him.

𝔗he dorm 'tis nearly identical to Raelon's own, with a bed, desk, armorie, and a weapons rack–donned in the riders' black and bare of personality.

𝔒n the wall opposite the door are two arched windows, overlooking the snow-dusted mountain peaks beyond the flight field, silvery moonlight beams through the polished glass as droplets of rain trickle down the panes.

ℜeserras tosses his pack onto the cushioned chair at the ebony desk–arranged against the windows–hooks his swords and all thirteen of his daggers onto the rack beside the armorie across the foot of the bed before he flops onto the bed, the plush mattress bouncing beneath his weight.

𝔅lack sheets 'twere tucked neatly with dark grey pillows laid against the wooden headboard, and the mage light on the ebony bedside table flickers with blue heat.

ℌe expels a long breath, finally laying down after... ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐? 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔? 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐? 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑜.

𝔄fter the chaotic day, Reserras couldn't find the energy to unlace his boots, and he 'twere nearly on the brink of sleep when a mere knock rasped against the door before it 'twere pushed open.

𝔖hadows whirled within, overcoming the space, and curled around his ankles–Res wonders what signet, signets, he will manifest whenever his dragons channel.

𝔉ondness tilts Res' lips as he grins up at the stone ceiling, remembering that Xaden never truly knocks, always barging in like he owns the place.

ℜeserras supposes he does, though, just his fucking presence alone demands instant respect or attention even if he 'tweren't speaking.

"You.. never cease to amaze me, Reserras Atonal."

ℜes pushes himself up with a muffled grunt, curious eyes trailing his shadow as Xaden joins him at the foot of the bed, mattress dipping below his weight.

𝔏ifting his scarred brow, Xaden just scoffs at him as if he didn't know. "Two dragons? The White Speartail, nonethe-fucking-less."

ℜes just shyly grins, limply shrugging his shoulders as he lays his hands on his lap, picking at his cuticles. "It's not like I sought them out."

   "No. They sought you out." Xaden says, taking one of Res' hands to stop that horrible habit of his whenever nervous, or bored.

   ℜeserras softly grins, feeling pride swell within his chest at the admiration in Xaden's deep voice yet soft like velvet on his skin.

   "There is something you must know, Reserras." He lifts a curious brow in a gesture for Xaden to continue, whose broad shoulders rise with a breath. "Now that Grian is in play, the other cadets know he's willing to bond. The unbonded are going to try to kill you in hopes they'll get Grian to bond them."

   ℜeserras sucks in a breath, 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝐵𝑎𝑠𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑡ℎ.

   "Grian is the strongest dragon on the continent, and the vast power he channels is about to become yours. In these next few months, the unbonded will try to kill any newly paired rider while the bonds are 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 Grian? Or Fola? They'll do just about anything. There are forty-one unbonded riders for which you are now target number one."

   𝔄 sharp breath trembles past Res' lips. "You really know how to give someone a fucking pep talk." A thick layer of sarcasm masks the utter fear whirling through him, lacing his fingers through his shadow's, whom squeezes his hand in silent assurance.

   "The same goes for Violet, I assume." Reserras says. "And Tairn knows you'll play bodyguard for he knows how much you value your own life," he grins, yet 'tis dry of any real joy. Xaden nods.

   𝔖ilence overcomes the men, and Reserras' eyes become lost within those onyx orbs of Xaden's, the gold flecks sparkling in the silvery moonlight.

   𝔗he entire world went silent, still... it 'twas only them in this moment.

   "You would've interfered." Res whispers yet it echoes in the silence of the dorm. "No one will take you from me. Not even Malek himself." The wielder of shadows responds, eyes ever so swiftly glancing to Res' lips as the space between them closes.

   𝔗heir lips are a hairsbreadth apart, their noses brush, Reserras can taste the sweet air Xaden breathes, feel his heart beating, fast... 𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒?

   𝔄nd then... their lips connect, and Reserras withholds a whimper at the feel of Xaden's soft lips that taste like honeyed nectar against his own, so sweet, so divine, so right.

𝔙elvet shadows swirl around his lithe waist, up his torso, and behind his head, threading through his pearlescent hair cascading down his back.

ℜeserras falls back onto the soft sheets with Xaden above him, palms rested on either side of Res' head.

𝔗he shadows spasm without control and envelope the room in rippling darkness, extinguishing the mage lights, caressing Reserras' entire body and this time, he couldn't withhold the pathetic whimper when they squeeze the flesh of his uninjured thigh.

𝔗he wielder of shadows smirks against his mouth and Reserras bites his lower lip, only for Xaden to darkly snicker.

ℜeserras' hands drift across Xaden's torso in nimble movements, like a gentle gardener tending to his garden. He memorizes every curve, muscle, and dip of the man above him, claiming his lips as if they are his sole lifeline.

𝔒h, how Xaden Riorson dreamt of this; of hair like starlight, of eyes like storms, of lips like berry wine.

   ℑt 'twere everything, yet more.

   ℌow could he abandon this?

   𝔉ire courses through their bloodstream, heating their skin and bones as Xaden grips the collar of Reserras' tunic and pulls themselves into a sitting position.

   𝔗ugging Res' tunic off and tossing it to the floor, shadows reach around to undo the laces of Reserras' dragonscale armor and soon enough the vest 'tis carelessly thrown to the floor, as well.

   𝔄nd Xaden sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of his man's porcelain yet toned chest, after his display in the valley with those other cadets, well... his leather pants felt even tighter now. 

   𝔗he shadow wielder then removes his own rider leathers and loose tunic beneath, and Reserras admires the expanse of warm-toned tawny-brown skin before him, riddled with small scars both old and new.

   "Like what you see, Ressa?"

   "Yes," Reserras growls, eyes burning with desire as he latches his leg around Xaden's waist and throws the man on his back as he flips them.

   𝔛aden's chuckle 'tis cut short as Reserras smashes his lips against his, and the silver beauty groans at the feel of Xaden beneath him. Hard, and wanting... mirroring himself.

𝔑eeding to sate the craving growing within his stomach, curling his loins so deliciously, Reserras begins to grind his hips atop Xaden's, who groans into his mouth, providing friction between their heated bodies.

𝔏ifting his lips from his shadow's with a wet pop, Reserras traces them along his Xaden's strong jawline then down to his throat where he bites, licks, sucks, and kisses.

𝔛aden's onyx eyes roll when Reserras' soft lips brush against his collarbones, fluttering closed in ecstasy. He curls his toes and grasps a fistful of sheets as the other tangles in his Ressy's pearlescent hair, tugging at the long strands in desperation.

ℑt feels like he simply cannot breathe around the ecstasy burning through his veins, igniting a fire within his belly.

𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑘, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡... Xaden doesn't remember, just a lot of years since he fell in love with Reserras Atonal.

𝔗eeth nip at the jutting bone of his collarbones and Xaden hisses as his back arches off the sheets, fucking moaning low in his throat at the exquisite pain.

𝔊ods, Reserras has the power to fucking destroy him, and the man doesn't even know it.

𝔄midst the dry humping of his so damn petite hips, Res' member touches Xaden's and the man in response hooks his leg around Reserras' trim waist and flips them around with ease.

𝔖mashing his lips against Reserras', he interlocks their hands atop the sheets, the limbs molded together like the perfect cloth squeeze the other in desperation, restless and uncontrollable lust overcoming the men.

𝔛aden mirrors what his Reserras'd did to him as he begins to grind his thighs over Res', the men groaning every time their hard as stone members merely touch even with the leathery fabric keeping them apart.

"Gods, Ressy." Xaden fucking growls, squeezing Reserras' hand white.

ℌeavy pants and growled groans fill the heated air as overwhelming lust overcomes the men, until Xaden gets too eager and forgets about Res' still healing wounds.

𝔇rifting his other hand toward the man's waistband, he eagerly squeezes his injured thigh, resulting in a wince tumbling from Res' lips.

𝔛aden immediately pulls away, eyes wide in worry. "I hurt you?"

ℜeserras, with his chest heaving and eyes blown black with lust, shakes his head. "No," it 'twere a mere breath.

"I'm sorry, Ressy."

"Don't be," Res shakes his head, grinning up at his man. "It's fine. You didn't break the stitches."

ℜemoving himself from atop Reserras, Xaden falls onto the sheets beside him. Turning onto his side, Res faces Xaden.

𝔗he pair whose known one another all their lives lay in the silence filling the space between them, catching their breath and processing what just happened between them.

𝔄nd neither find themselves regretting it, at least... maybe not yet, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑤?

𝔚hat will change?

𝐼𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑?

"𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦. 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢." Fola's voice curls around his thoughts like smoke, and Res blinks.

ℌe'd really have to get used to that. To them. Always fucking being there.

"Ressy." He hums, looking to Xaden. "Tomorrow I'm going to ward your room. Only you and myself will be able to enter, and whoever you allow in. All you have to do is touch them as you enter. But once they enter that first time, they'll always be able to come in, so – "

"Be cautious of who I allow in, I know."

𝔛aden, then, twists unto his back and tugs Reserras into his side, who rests his ear above his beating heart and drapes an arm over his stomach. And Xaden rests his palm on Res' hand, thumb caressing the soft skin, as his other arm keeps itself protectively wrapped around Reserras' waist.

𝔈ven well after Reserras' breathing softened as he fell into the world of dreams, Xaden remained awake, wary of any threats that'd be stupid enough to attack in the middle of the night.

ℌe will not loose Reserras Atonal, not even to Malek, himself... he can't.

__________•༻*✽*༺•__________

༻ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༺

It happened, 🤭.