Unknown

[breezyblossoms]

The thing about Xaden Riorson is that he looks at you like you’re a known variable.

A solved equation.

Which is ridiculous, because if there’s one thing the two of you have never been, it’s predictable.

You feel his attention before you see him. It prickles along your spine, the same way it used months ago—back when nights blurred together and neither of you bothered pretending it was anything more than physical. Back when Basgiath felt smaller, quieter, easier to disappear into.

You turn, blade already in hand.

There he is.

Across the sparring ring, dressed in black as always, shadows pooled lazily at his boots like they’ve been waiting for you. His arms are crossed, posture relaxed, mouth tilted in that half-smile that used to mean trouble.

“Are you just going to stare,” you call out, “or are you actually sparring today?”

His brow lifts. “Distracted?”

“Hardly.”

From the bleachers, Bodhi snorts. “Lying already. Excellent start.”

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Emotional support,” Bodhi says. “For whoever loses control first.”

Xaden doesn’t look away from you. “Then you’re here for nothing.”

The bell rings.

You move first. You always do. It’s instinct—muscle memory shaped by countless drills and too many nights where distance between you and Xaden simply… ceased to exist. Your blade meets his with a sharp clang, vibration traveling up your arm.

Gods. Still the same.

“You’re slower,” he murmurs, blocking easily.

“You’re cocky,” you fire back. “Still.”

His smile sharpens. “You like it.”

You feint left and tap his shoulder with the flat of your blade. “Keep dreaming.”

He recovers instantly, disarming you in one smooth movement. His hand closes around your wrist before you can step back, grip firm and annoyingly familiar.

Too familiar.

You look up at him, unimpressed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, head tilting

“Like you’ve seen me naked before.”

Bodhi chokes. “I’m sorry—what?”

Xaden doesn’t even blink. His mouth curves slowly, smug and unapologetic.

“I have seen you naked before.”

You groan and shove him away. “I hate you.”

“No,” he says easily. “You don’t.”

You grab your blade, heart beating faster than the spar warrants. “I thought you’d be busy.”

“With?” he asks.

You give him a pointed look. “You know. Violet.”

For half a second, he looks genuinely confused. Then realization dawns—and he laughs. A real laugh. Open. Unguarded.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s what you think?”

“Well,” you snap, “you disappeared.”

His expression shifts—not defensive, not guilty. Just… honest. “Not because of her.”

The bell rings again, ending the match, but the tension doesn’t leave with it.

That night, you tell yourself it was nothing.

The next day proves you wrong.

Bodhi doesn’t show.

The ring is empty. Quiet. No audience to break the tension, no commentary to deflect with sarcasm. Xaden steps in, gaze darker today, jaw tight.

“You threatened him,” you say.

“He threatened my patience,” Xaden replies.

You stretch deliberately, lifting your arms overhead showing a little bit of skin, just to see if he’s watching.

He is.

“Eyes up here,” you say sweetly.

“I was assessing.”

“Sure you were.”

This spar is sharper. Less playful. You push him harder, forcing him back step by step until stone presses against your spine and his forearm braces beside your head, blade forgotten.

Again.

Always like this.

“Well,” you murmur, breath uneven, “this is familiar.”

“You keep putting yourself here,” he says quietly.

“You keep catching me.”

His shadows creep up the wall behind you, restless, reacting to something he’s very clearly trying to suppress.

“You’re distracting,” he adds.

You lift a brow. “I thought you liked that.”

“I did,” he admits. “Still do. That’s the problem.”

Something snaps—not anger. Decision.

He kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s months of restraint breaking, his mouth warm and insistent, familiar in a way that makes your knees go weak. When he pulls back, it’s barely an inch.

“Tell me to stop,” he says.

You smirk, fingers curling into his leathers. “What—disappearing again?”

A quiet laugh leaves him. “Not a chance.”

After that, sneaking around Basgiath becomes an art form.

Quiet corridors. Late hours. Lingering glances that mean more than words ever did. You slip into a shadowed passage one evening, Xaden close behind you.

“You realize,” you murmur, “that if anyone sees us—”

“Well,” Bodhi says brightly, leaning against the wall, “this explains everything.”

You freeze.

“I knew it,” he continues. “Xaden doesn’t smile unless something illegal is happening.”

“If you tell anyone—” you warn.

“I won’t,” Bodhi says. Then smirks. “Except maybe Violet.”

As if summoned, Violet rounds the corner, gaze flicking between you and Xaden. She takes one look at Xaden’s hand at your lower back and smiles knowingly.

“Oh,” she says. “That makes sense.”

Xaden sighs. “Violet—”

“Relax,” she says gently. “You don’t owe me explanations. Just… try not to implode anything important.”

“No promises,” you mutter.

Later, tucked into a quiet corner, knees brushing, Xaden leans in.

“This is a bad idea,” you say.

“You’re smiling,” he replies.

You are.

Because some habits never die.

And some bad ideas?

You make them again anyway.

Authors Note: This is the photo that kinda inspired this one, especially the “stop looking at like that” part.

[breezyblossoms]

PART 1

It doesn’t happen all at once. Healing never does.

You move through Aretia like a ghost—alive, breathing, but untethered. The rebellion carries on without pause; meetings, drills, coded messages. You attend none of them. Xaden doesn’t ask you to.

Still, you can feel him everywhere. In the corridors where he used to walk beside you, in the sound of his voice echoing through war rooms you no longer enter. Every time he passes, you sense the hesitation; the apology on his tongue that he’s too afraid to repeat.

He says good morning now. You look better. Can we talk?

You don’t answer.

It’s Aaric who finds you first.

You’re sitting outside the fortress walls, the wind cool against your scarred hands, when he lands beside you—his dragon letting out a low rumble of greeting. Aaric dismounts easily, brushing dirt from his gloves before settling down a few paces away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out here again,” he says quietly.

You don’t look at him, but there’s no edge to your silence. “Didn’t think I’d want to be.”

He hums in agreement, eyes on the horizon. “Sometimes the wanting isn’t up to us.”

You huff a faint laugh. “You sound like a priest.”

“Trust me,” he says with a small grin, “I’m not nearly holy enough.”

It’s the first time in weeks that your chest doesn’t ache from breathing. Aaric doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t offer pity—just presence. He talks about nothing: dragons molting, Garrick’s new scar, how Sgaeyl almost someone again, Ridoc’s most recent joke. It’s almost normal.

Almost.

Xaden notices. Of course he does.

The first time he sees you standing beside Aaric in the training yard, something ugly twists in his gut. Aaric’s hand brushes your shoulder, guiding your stance as you grip a blade again for the first time since your capture. You’re tense, trembling—but you don’t pull away.

Sgaeyl growls from the ridge above. You did this, she reminds him.

He ignores her, jaw tight, eyes locked on you.

When Aaric murmurs something that makes you laugh—really laugh, the sound startling and fragile—Xaden takes a step forward before Imogen catches his arm.

“Don’t,” she warns quietly. “Not like this.”

His voice is low, dangerous. “He shouldn’t be touching her.”

“She’s not yours to protect anymore.”

That silences him more effectively than any order could.

Later that night, he finds you outside your quarters, candlelight flickering through the open doorway. You’re seated on the floor, cleaning your weapon, sleeves rolled up, a streak of soot across your cheek.

“You’re training again,” he says.

You don’t glance up. “Needed to remember how.”

He steps closer. “You could’ve asked me.”

The steel in your voice surprises even you. “I asked you for a lot of things, Xaden. You didn’t remember those either.”

He flinches. You don’t apologize.

He sinks to his knees beside you anyway. “I deserve that,” he says quietly. “Every word. Every look.”

You pause, blade in hand, eyes finally meeting his. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because I can’t stand watching you slip away from me.”

Your grip tightens. “You already did.”

The next days blur into something between truce and torment. Xaden hovers, never close enough to touch, but always there. You train with Aaric, and you start talking with Imogen again, help Garrick organize supplies, start joking around with Bodhi. You start living again, and that’s what destroys him most.

He sees it, the faint light returning to your eyes, the ease that comes when Aaric walks into a room. The way you breathe differently around someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your absence like a curse.

Every time you smile, it breaks something in him.

And still, he tries.

One evening, he finds you at the edge of the cliffs where you used to watch the dragons soar. The wind smells like rain, thunder gathering on the horizon. You don’t turn when he approaches.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says softly.

You give a small, hollow laugh. “You used to say that when you wanted me to come inside.”

He swallows. “I still do.”

Silence stretches between you—taut, trembling.

He finally speaks, voice rough. “Every night, I hear it. The silence. The moment I stopped listening to you. I thought I was doing the right thing—keeping you safe by keeping you away. But I forgot that you were the one thing I was supposed to hold on to.”

You close your eyes. The wind catches your hair, salt and storm in the air. “You can’t rewrite what happened, Xaden.”

“I’m not trying to.” He steps closer, voice shaking. “I’m trying to make sure it never happens again.”

You exhale slowly. “You don’t get to promise that anymore.”

His breath catches. “Then what do I get?”

You turn, finally looking at him. “You get to live with it.”

You don’t go to the cliffs or the stables or the training yard.

You disappear.

Not physically—Aretia isn’t that big—but emotionally, socially.

You stop going to meals.

Stop speaking to the riders who come to “check on you” with pity hidden under their tongues.

Stop letting yourself be seen.

Aaric is the first to notice.

He finds you in the old archives beneath the keep—dusty, cold, forgotten. You’re on the floor between two shelves, a stack of blankets around you, reading reports you probably shouldn’t have access to.

“Creative hiding place,” Aaric says from the doorway.

You glance up. “Who says I’m hiding?”

Aaric raises a brow. “You’ve been down here for three hours. Your dragon sent me.”

You blink. “Traitor.”

“Smart,” he corrects gently.

He sits across from you, folding his long legs under him. He picks up one of the reports you discarded.

“Looking for something?”

You shrug. “Just trying to understand the things I missed.”

Aaric’s eyes soften. “Understanding isn’t the same as blaming yourself.”

You snort. “Feels similar.”

He nudges the stack of blankets closer. “Then let someone sit with you until it passes.”

And unlike everyone else, he does.

Xaden hears about it long after the others do.

He’s in a war briefing when Sgaeyl growls low, irritated. Your shadow-heart is hiding in the dark places. She has not eaten today.

His head jerks up. “What?”

The council stares, confused, but he’s already moving.

Down the halls. Down the staircases.

Down into the cold stone underbelly of the keep where people store things they don’t want to deal with.

He finds you on the floor surrounded by scrolls and blankets and a half-eaten apple Aaric must’ve brought you.

Aaric is now sitting beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as you both lean over a map.

You look… calmer. Not happy, not healed.

But steady.

Settled.

And Xaden hasn’t seen you like that since before he forgot you.

Aaric looks up first. “We’re busy,” he says in that polite, infuriating tone that isn’t actually polite at all. “Come back later.”

Xaden’s jaw clenches. “I wasn’t here to talk to you.”

Aaric smiles blandly. “I don’t care.”

You sigh and close the report you were reading. “Enough. Both of you.”

Aaric stands and takes a few steps back—respectful distance.

Xaden does the opposite. He steps forward.

“You shouldn’t be down here alone,” he says quietly.

“I’m not alone.” You gesture to the stacks of documents. “I have reports.”

He stares at you. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches until Aaric—smartly—excuses himself, leaving you and Xaden with the echoing drip of water and the cold weight of things unsaid.

He sinks to a crouch in front of you.

“You’re shutting me out.”

“You shut me out first,” you say, not angry. Just honest.

He breathes in sharply. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need sorry,” you say. “I need…”

You stop.

Because you don’t know what you need. Because the outpost rewrote your wiring.

He finishes for you: “Someone who sees you.”

You stare at him. “Do you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he reaches for one of the reports beside you—the one you had set aside with shaking hands earlier. He skims it, and you watch the blood drain from his face.

It’s a timeline.

A calculated record of the days you went missing…

And the days he didn’t notice.

He sets the parchment down like it physically burns him.

Then he whispers, “I carry this with me every second.”

You swallow hard. “And I carry what happened.”

His voice breaks. “How do I make that weight lighter for you?”

“You don’t.” Your eyes sting. “You just don’t add to it.”

Aaric reappears, leaning lightly against the wall with two steaming bowls of stew. He offers one to you without speaking.

Xaden’s nostrils flare. “I can take care of her.”

Aaric doesn’t even look at him. “I know. But you didn’t.”

You inhale sharply, and Xaden goes still.

Aaric hands you the bowl gently, then says, “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

There’s no accusation. No smugness.

Just care. Real, present care.

When he’s gone, Xaden runs a trembling hand through his hair. “I can’t stand him being the one you trust.”

You spoon a mouthful of stew. “Then you should’ve stayed close enough to be trusted.”

He recoils as if struck.

“I’m not leaving,” he says softly. “Not again. Not unless you make me.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I might. Not today. But… eventually.”

And the honesty sits heavy in the room.

Not a threat.

Not a promise.

Just the truth between wounded people.

Hours later, when you fall asleep curled against the couch in the archive’s warmth, Xaden doesn’t touch you.

He sits a few feet away, back against his couch, watching over you like a man afraid to blink.

When Aaric returns with more blankets, he silently hands Xaden one.

Not friends.

Not enemies.

Just… two people trying to hold the same broken thing without breaking it further.

Neither of them speaks.

Neither of them leaves.

And the ending settles like dust on old stone:

Not healed.

Not together.

Not apart.

Just suspended in something fragile and new—

a balance that could tip either way

with one choice,

one word,

one heartbeat.

Authors Note: I hope you guys enjoy it!! I really appreciate all the love on the first one. Big thank you to @lovesvioletlight for giving me the idea for this one, I had no idea where to go after the first one!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[breezyblossoms]

It starts quietly.

Basgaith has always been loud — sparring blades, dragon wings, the hum of rebellion threaded through every breath. But lately, silence clings to you. You notice it in the pauses where Xaden’s voice should be, in the cold side of the bed that used to hold his warmth.

He’s always somewhere else now — meetings with Violet, long flights with Sgaeyl and Tairn, missions you’re “not cleared” for anymore. You tell yourself it’s fine. He’s the leader, the rebel, the one who bears too much already. You, you’re just his constant. His anchor.

But anchors sink too, eventually.

The morning he forgets to kiss you goodbye, you laugh it off. When he forgets to come back that night, you try not to count the hours. When you pass him in the courtyard a few days later, his eyes skim over you before landing on her, on Violet, you swallow the ache and pretend it doesn’t burn.

“Be careful, Xaden,” you say softly as he turns to leave with the others.

He pauses. “Always,” he murmurs, distracted, already gone.

The word feels like a ghost between you.

You volunteer for a run — simple supply retrieval, barely a day’s ride from Aretia. You tell yourself it’s something useful, something that reminds you that you still matter.

You don’t make it back.

The ambush is efficient. Blinding cloth, rough hands, a voice whispering something about “information” and “Riorson’s precious secret.” After that, everything turns to shadow and pain blurred by time.

They keep asking questions you can’t answer. Questions about marked ones, about Xaden, about rebellion routes. Your voice cracks, not from screaming, but from silence — from the days that slip by and the realization that no one is coming.

You lose count after the fifth sunrise. The only thing that stays clear is the thought: Maybe they haven’t noticed.

By the tenth, when your captors sneer, “Strange, isn’t it? Not a single one of your friends has come knocking,” you manage a hoarse whisper.

“I’m not the one they care about anymore.”

Back in Basgiath , Xaden Riorson is in a meeting. He hasn’t slept properly in weeks, juggling rebellion logistics and the chaos that follows Violet wherever she walks. He’s listening to an officer drone about missing supplies when a commander from Basgiath laughs and says, almost idly,

“I’ll give you this, Riorson — your woman’s resilient. I’d have bet she’d break days ago.”

The room stills.

“My… what?” His voice is low, deadly calm.

The commander smirks. “The one you call your partner. Thought she might’ve mentioned it. She’s been in custody nearly two weeks now. Impressive tolerance for pain, really. Or loyalty. Depends how you see it.”

The words don’t register right away. Then they do — like a blade to the chest.

Xaden is on his feet before anyone can breathe. “Where!?”

“Wouldn’t waste your time,” the commander replies. “I’ll be surprised if you find her alive.”

Sgaeyl feels him before she sees him — a storm through the bond, panic and guilt so sharp it cuts.

You didn’t notice, she hisses. She called for you, and you were blind.

He doesn’t argue. He can’t.

“Find her,” he demands, voice breaking. “Ask her dragon… tell me where she is.”

The flight is a blur of wind and terror. When he lands, when he tears open the doors of a forgotten outpost, when he finally sees you — it’s like the world stops breathing.

You’re barely conscious. Faded, small. Eyes dull but still searching. He falls to his knees beside you, whispering your name over and over, his hands shaking as he pulls you close.

“I’m here. I’m here now.”

You don’t answer. Maybe you can’t. Maybe you just don’t want to.

The healers work quietly. They clean what they can, mend what they’re able. You drift in and out of awareness, each breath shallow, each thought fragmented. The first time you truly wake, the room smells of herbs and iron.

He’s there, sitting in the corner. Eyes red-rimmed, exhaustion carved into every line of him. He tries to smile. “Hi.”

You turn your face away.

Days turn to weeks. The others visit — Bodhi brings water, Garrick sits in silence, Imogen pretends she’s just there to deliver reports. They all look guilty. You don’t speak. Your voice is gone — raw from disuse, from too much pain swallowed instead of screamed.

When Xaden reaches for your hand one evening, you flinch. His breath catches.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers. “I should have. I should have felt it.”

The words hang between you like smoke. You stare at the wall, at the faint sunlight spilling across the floor.

He continues, voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you by keeping you away from all of it. But I— I left you alone.”

You close your eyes. For a moment, you almost want to tell him it’s okay, that you understand. But you don’t. And maybe you never will.

When the healers finally say you can walk, you step outside. The sky is vast and pale, dragons circling far above. Your dragon hums softly in your mind — a whisper of relief and grief.

Behind you, Xaden stands a few paces back. You can feel his gaze on you, that familiar warmth that used to mean safety. Now it only reminds you of everything that’s gone.

He takes a hesitant step closer. “What do I have to do to fix this?”

You don’t look at him. “You can’t fix what you forgot,” you rasp, voice barely there.

Silence. Then, quietly: “I never stopped—”

“Loving me?” you finish for him, not cruelly, just tired. You turn your head enough to meet his eyes. “Then you should’ve noticed I was gone.”

The words aren’t shouted. They don’t need to be. They cut all the same.

You walk away first.

That night, he sits by the fire, Sgaeyl’s presence a heavy shadow beside him.

She lives, the dragon murmurs. That is more than most get.

“I know,” he says softly.

He watches the horizon until the sky bruises to black, waiting for a sign that you’ll come back to him — a whisper, a glance, anything. None comes.

Somewhere in the dark, you’re awake too, tracing the faint scar on your wrist, remembering how it felt to hope someone would save you.

Maybe one day, you’ll forgive him.

But not tonight.

[breezyblossoms]

Inspired by “Won’t Live Here” by Daniel Caesar

⸻

Xaden’s POV

The room still smells like her.

It’s faint, soap, parchment, and something warmer, something that doesn’t belong in the cold stone walls of Basgiath. It clings to my cloak, my skin, the edges of memory that I can’t seem to tear free of. I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t. Every step across this room is another cut against my own restraint, another reminder that there’s a line I’ve drawn and redrawn until it feels like it’s carved into me.

But I cross it anyway.

Her boots are by the bed, carelessly tipped over, one lying on its side. The blanket is pulled halfway to the floor, the kind of mess made only by someone who lives, who doesn’t ration every movement for survival. My life has never been messy. Calculated, controlled, always on the edge of the blade. Until her.

Until she looked at me and made this stone prison feel like a home I can’t allow myself to keep.

I sit on the edge of her bed, my weight sinking into where hers was not long ago. My hand hovers over the imprint her body left on the sheets, fingers curling against the urge to touch. I can’t. If I touch, I’ll unravel.

It should be simple. I know better than anyone that wanting something doesn’t mean you can have it. The rebellion taught me that. Death taught me that. And yet, here I am, making the same mistake over and over; stealing moments, letting her into the cracks of my armor, memorizing her laugh like it’s something I’ll be starved without.

She deserves someone who can stay.

But all I do is leave.

I close my eyes, let my head fall into my hands. The echo of her voice lingers, soft, warm, the way she says my name like it’s not something dangerous to hold in her mouth. She doesn’t see the weight strapped across my shoulders. Or maybe she does, and she just doesn’t care. Which is worse.

Because I can’t give her what she asks for without breaking everything I’ve built.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I whisper to no one. My voice is hoarse, brittle. The words sound like they belong to a man begging for mercy, not the marked one I’ve had to be.

The truth is a wound I keep pressing my thumb into: she feels like home. And I don’t live in homes. Not anymore.

My chest tightens when I remember the way she looked at me last, like she wanted me to choose her, just once, above the war, above the rebellion, above the ghosts. And fuck, I wanted to. I still want to. But loving me isn’t safety. It’s a slow destruction, and she doesn’t deserve to burn just because I already am.

I stand, forcing myself away from the bed, away from her presence that lingers like gravity.

This place, the four walls that shelter her laughter, her warmth, her endless capacity to make me believe in things I swore I buried, it’s not mine to stay in. I don’t get to live here. Not with the blood on my hands. Not with the path I’ve chosen.

My hand lingers on the doorframe as I leave, nails biting into the wood, like if I hold on long enough I can keep a piece of her. But I don’t look back. I can’t.

Because if I do, I’ll stay. And if I stay, I’ll ruin her.

The hallway is silent when the door shuts behind me.

And I tell myself, like a prayer and a curse in one:

I won’t live here. I can’t.

But gods help me—every step I take away from her feels like tearing out the only place I’ve ever wanted to rest.

[breezyblossoms]

Xaden as a Husband

• He’s not the easiest man to marry at first; walls built high, trust coming slow. But once you’re his, you are his. Loyal to the bone, unwavering, and the type of husband who will burn the world to protect you.

• Acts like he doesn’t care about anniversaries or “silly little traditions,” but secretly makes them sacred. He’ll remember the exact day you met, the words you first said to him, and he’ll mark those moments in quiet, subtle ways.

• He’s not overly verbal with his love; his affection shows in actions: slipping an arm around your waist, checking the perimeter twice before you sleep, leaving your favorite drink by your bedside without a word.

• When arguments happen, he gets sharp with words because he’s afraid of losing you. But he always comes back, raw and vulnerable, apologizing in his own way: “I can’t stand the thought of you walking away from me.”

• Shadows like to curl around you when he isn’t home; almost as if they’ve been trained to keep you company, an extension of him.

Xaden as a Dad

• Terrified of being a father at first. He grew up with loss and burden, so the thought of raising someone fragile terrifies him. He doesn’t believe he’s “gentle” enough. But when he holds his baby for the first time, it changes him. Instantly.

• Shadows instinctively shield the crib, like they know this child is the most important secret in the world.

• He’s the kind of dad who pretends to be stoic, but you’ll catch him at night with the baby asleep on his chest, whispering promises he’ll never let anyone harm them.

• Overprotective to a fault. He tries to act like he trusts the world, but if his child scrapes a knee, his jaw locks and he has to remind himself not to go hunting for whoever let it happen.

• With daughters, he’s ruined. Utterly undone. The second she reaches for him, his whole world stops. His shadows practically form a crown around her whenever she’s near.

• With sons, he’s quietly determined to teach them strength without cruelty. He’ll spar with them, but also teach them that real power comes from protecting others.

• Reads bedtime stories in his deep, gravelly voice; but he edits out the endings he doesn’t like, changing them so the heroes always survive.

• Acts annoyed when the kids climb on him like he’s a mountain, but his shadows are constantly making little platforms to help them up.

• Absolutely the dad who will stand guard outside their room when they’re sick, pacing all night, pretending it’s “just in case,” when in reality, he can’t sleep unless he knows they’re breathing steady.

Bonus Husband + Dad Moments

• The first time he sees you holding your baby, he swears he doesn’t deserve this; this softness, this family, this future. But he devotes himself to keeping it.

• He’s not the “fun” parent, but he is the safe parent. His kids know they can run to him when the world feels too heavy, and he’ll wordlessly pull them into his arms.

• He never calls himself a “good dad.” But his children, wrapped in shadows and safety, grow up knowing there’s no one fiercer in their corner.

• His greatest fear shifts from losing the rebellion… to losing you and the kids. That fear fuels every decision he makes.

[breezyblossoms]

The battlefield smelled of blood and ash. Screams tore through the air, the sound of dragons shrieking overhead rattling the ground beneath you. Your blade was heavy in your hand, arm trembling from exhaustion, but you kept swinging, kept standing, because beside you were your friends, and behind you was the future you swore to protect.

Then something hot and sharp tore across your side, stealing your breath. The world tilted. You staggered, trying to hold yourself upright, but the ground rushed to meet you. The last thing you remembered before darkness swallowed you was Garrick’s panicked shout, and Xaden. You searched for him, desperate for even a glance, but your eyes caught only one image before they closed:

Xaden kneeling beside Violet Sorrengail’s cot, shadows curling protectively around her. His hand brushing her hair back, his focus fixed entirely on her. Not once did he look up. Not once at you.

When you finally surfaced from the dark, your body felt like stone. Breathing was a battle in itself, every muscle screaming in protest. Light stung your eyes, but when your vision cleared, you weren’t alone.

Bodhi sat slumped in a chair, chin against his chest, snoring softly. Imogen leaned against the wall, arms crossed but eyes closed, as though she had forced herself to stay upright until exhaustion claimed her. And Garrick, sweet, loyal Garrick, was asleep at your bedside, his hand lightly curled around yours as if he’d been holding it for days.

You tried to speak, but the sound was barely a whisper. Garrick’s head shot up instantly. “She’s awake!” His voice cracked. Relief crashed over his face so hard you thought he might cry. Imogen stirred, her eyes snapping open, and Bodhi jerked upright, nearly falling out of his chair.

They surrounded you, each speaking at once, reassurances, questions, laughter through tears. You didn’t understand everything, but you understood enough: they had been here. They had waited. They had carried you when you couldn’t stand, watched over you when you couldn’t fight for yourself.

And Xaden wasn’t here.

Days later, when you were strong enough to sit up and sip broth, the truth reached him in the cruelest way.

General Sorrengail had stopped by your cot with a rare softness in her eyes. “It’s good to see you awake. The others said it was weeks. You’re lucky to have friends who never left your side.”

And then, casually, she added, “Xaden must be relieved to know you survived.”

Across the tent, you heard the sharp intake of breath, the scrape of boots on stone. Shadows rippled. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know he was there.

“Coma?” Xaden’s voice was strangled, as if the word itself cut him. He looked at Imogen, then Bodhi, then Garrick. “She’s been in a coma?”

Imogen’s control snapped. She shoved herself off the wall and advanced, her words knives sharper than any blade.

“She’s been here for weeks, Xaden. Weeks! While you sat at Violet’s bedside, holding her hand, making sure she was comfortable, she was in a coma. The same battle you were in, the same blood and fire, and not once did you ask about her. Not once did you wonder if she lived, if she breathed.” Her voice broke with fury. “Don’t you dare act surprised.”

The silence after was deafening.

Xaden stood frozen, shadows writhing uselessly around him. His eyes, those dark, storm-laden eyes that once were your anchor, fell on you. But you couldn’t meet them. Not when they burned with regret only after the truth had been shoved into his face.

You turned away, fixing your gaze instead on Garrick’s reassuring hand over yours. That hurt him more than any battle wound ever could.

When you were strong enough to leave the healer’s tent, your steps were fragile, body still betraying you with weakness. Bodhi, Garrick, and Imogen became your constant shadows, taking turns supporting you as you learned to walk again. Their laughter kept the heaviness at bay, their warmth replacing the icy absence that used to ache inside your chest.

And still, you felt him. Always behind you.

Xaden followed, but at a distance. Never close enough to touch, never close enough to be part of the circle you leaned on now. He would linger in the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, his eyes tracking every faltering step, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack.

The first time Bodhi offered you his arm, you took it with a shaky smile. Xaden’s expression twisted, but he said nothing.

The first time Garrick steadied you after a stumble, his hand gentle at your elbow, you leaned into him. Xaden’s shadows stirred violently, but still he said nothing.

The first time you laughed, really laughed, at something Imogen muttered under her breath, Xaden looked as though you’d driven a dagger straight into his heart.

And yet he stayed. Always at a distance. Watching. Regretting.

But you never looked back.

Because shadows, you’d learned, don’t wait.

The days blurred into a slow rhythm of healing. Your legs were still weak, your ribs still ached if you breathed too deeply, but every day you pushed yourself forward. One step. One more breath. One more laugh, even if it was forced at first.

And they were always there.

Bodhi’s endless chatter, Imogen’s dry wit, Garrick’s steady presence, they filled the spaces Xaden used to. It was safer this way. Easier to let their loyalty stitch over the places where his absence had hollowed you out.

But no matter how hard you tried to pretend, you still felt him.

Always at the edges of your vision. Always lingering just far enough away that if you turned, you might miss him in the crowd. A shadow in truth.

And then, one night, he stepped too close.

You had just returned from a slow walk, Garrick at your side, Bodhi joking about how he should be knighted for his patience in walking at a “grandmother’s pace.” Imogen rolled her eyes and swatted him on the back of the head, making you laugh, weak, but real.

The moment you reached your door, the laughter stilled.

He was there.

Xaden stood just beyond the threshold, dark eyes fixed on you with a look you couldn’t name. Regret. Hunger. Desperation. His shadows flickered around him like restless smoke.

Bodhi bristled. “What the hell do you want, Xaden?”

“Not now, Bodhi,” Xaden said quietly, his voice too raw to be sharp. His gaze never left yours. “I need to talk to her.”

Imogen crossed her arms, stepping between you like a shield. “You had weeks. Weeks where she lay unconscious, fighting to live. You don’t get to just show up and demand her time now.”

Xaden’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t know.”

“Because you didn’t ask!” Imogen snapped, voice cracking under the fury she’d been holding back for far too long.

Silence fell heavy, broken only by the crackle of Xaden’s shadows against the wall. Garrick shifted closer, his hand brushing yours, not possessive, just protective. It made Xaden’s eyes darken, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

Finally, you spoke. “Let him.”

Three sets of eyes swung toward you, disbelief written across each face. But you were tired of the unspoken tension, tired of the weight that had been pressing on your chest since you first opened your eyes and found him not there.

“Five minutes,” you added, voice firm despite the tremor in your hands.

Imogen’s jaw clenched, but she nodded reluctantly. Bodhi muttered something about breaking Xaden’s nose if he upset you, and Garrick squeezed your hand before they filed out.

And then it was just you. And him.

For a long moment, Xaden didn’t speak. He only looked at you, like he was memorizing the shape of you alive. His chest rose and fell, heavy as if the words inside him might suffocate him before they left.

Finally, he said, “I didn’t know. If I had known—”

“You would’ve what?” you cut in, sharper than you intended. “Come running? Sat by my bed like you did with hers?”

He flinched, shadows curling tighter. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your laugh was brittle, a blade disguised as sound. “I saw you, Xaden. While Garrick carried me into the healer’s tent, bleeding out in his arms, I saw you. Sitting next to her. Caressing her. Not once did you look up.”

His throat worked as if the words burned on their way out. “She’s bonded to Tairn. To Sgaeyl’s mate. You don’t understand what that means—”

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, fury and hurt lacing each syllable. “Don’t you dare use that bond as an excuse for forgetting me.”

The silence after felt like a blade pressed to your throat.

Xaden’s voice dropped to a broken whisper. “You think I forgot you? You think for one second you weren’t—” He stopped, swallowed hard. “You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me. And I failed you.”

Tears burned your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You didn’t just fail me, Xaden. You chose not to see me.”

His composure cracked then, just for a heartbeat. The mighty Xaden Riorson, who commanded shadows and defied generals, looked utterly undone.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, voice rough. “But I’ll spend every day trying, if you’ll let me.”

You shook your head slowly. “It’s not about whether you try now. It’s about the fact that when it mattered most, you didn’t.”

You turned from him, laying down on your cot though your chest ached like it was tearing apart. “Your five minutes are over.”

The scrape of his boots on the stone floor retreated. The air grew colder as his shadows pulled back. And still, he lingered at the door for a breath too long, as if waiting for you to call him back.

You didn’t.

Because shadows don’t wait.

The morning after Xaden’s visit, the air felt heavier. Not just your body, still weak from weeks of stillness, but the air itself. As if the confrontation had shaken something loose, shadows hung closer, silence stretched longer.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on healing, on the quiet rhythm of Bodhi’s banter and Imogen’s dry commentary and Garrick’s steady patience. They made you laugh, they kept you moving, they reminded you that you weren’t alone.

But the shadow never left.

Always a few steps back, always watching. Sometimes you caught Xaden’s gaze before you looked away, and each time his expression carried that same raw regret.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

That night, you were sitting by the fire with the others when he finally pushed too far.

Bodhi was sprawled across the ground, throwing sticks into the flames. Imogen sharpened her dagger, and Garrick sat close enough to you that his shoulder brushed yours, steady and grounding.

And then Xaden appeared out of the darkness.

The firelight caught the hard planes of his face, shadows curling at his heels like loyal dogs. He didn’t ask permission this time, he just stepped forward, eyes fixed on you.

“Enough,” Garrick snapped, standing before you could. His voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it, his body bristling with tension. “She doesn’t want this.”

“I need to talk to her,” Xaden said, low and urgent.

“You already did,” Imogen cut in coldly. “She told you to leave. You don’t get to keep circling like a vulture just because you finally realized what you lost.”

Xaden’s eyes flickered, shadows stirring violently. “You think I don’t know I failed her? You think I don’t wake up every damn night replaying it? But she’s mine.”

The word cracked the air like a whip.

Bodhi shot to his feet, fury blazing across his face. “Yours? She’s not a sword or a shadow you get to claim, Xaden. While you were holding Violet’s hand, we were the ones keeping her alive. Don’t you dare come here and talk about her like she belongs to you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the fire’s snap and your own racing heartbeat.

You stood then, legs trembling but resolve hard as steel.

“I’m not anyone’s,” you said quietly, and all three of them turned toward you. Xaden froze, his expression unraveling. “Not yours. Not theirs. Not anymore. I decide who I let in — and who I don’t.”

Xaden stepped forward, desperation breaking through his composure. “Then let me in. Just once more. Please.”

Before you could answer, Garrick’s hand closed around your wrist, steady and protective. He met Xaden’s gaze with a look so sharp it could have cut steel.

“You don’t deserve her.”

The words landed like a killing blow. For a moment, even the shadows recoiled.

Xaden’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lash out. He only looked at you, and the weight of that gaze pressed hard against your ribs, where once it had been your anchor.

But you stayed silent. Because what could you say? That you loved him still, even when he hadn’t been there? That you hated him for the same reason? That your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or cling?

Instead, you turned away.

Imogen, Bodhi, and Garrick closed ranks around you, their silent wall of loyalty and protection. Xaden stood outside it, shadows writhing uselessly, a man cut off from the only light he had left.

And for the first time, he realized he wasn’t fighting dragons or generals or the fate of his rebellion.

He was fighting the consequences of his own choices.

And he might already have lost.

Got it — no messy love triangle cliché. 🙅🏻‍♀️

This will stay firmly in the lane of: Xaden wrestling with regret and jealousy vs. Garrick’s protective loyalty as a friend/brother-figure to you. The focus will stay on your healing and boundaries, not some tug-of-war for your affection. Garrick isn’t in love with you — he’s furious that Xaden abandoned you, and he’s not going to let him slide back in without facing what he’s done.

The tension didn’t dissolve after that night. If anything, it thickened, every shared space crackling with unspoken words and sharp glances.

You felt it whenever Xaden entered a room: Garrick’s body stiffening at your side, Imogen’s hand tightening around her dagger, Bodhi going oddly quiet. They didn’t trust him near you anymore, not the way they once had. And you… you didn’t know if you trusted yourself.

Because part of you still wanted to look at him. To fall into the familiar weight of his shadows, the safety of his voice. But the other part, the part that remembered lying broken while he never asked, wanted to turn your back forever.

It was easier not to decide at all.

It happened two nights later.

You had finally fallen asleep without pain clawing at your ribs when raised voices dragged you awake.

“…don’t you dare act like you have any right—” Garrick’s voice, sharp and furious.

“I have every right,” Xaden’s growl cut back, low and dangerous. Shadows scraped along the walls like restless serpents.

You pushed yourself up, heart pounding. The argument was just outside your room.

“She almost died,” Garrick spat. “And you weren’t there. You never even asked. Do you have any idea what that did to her? What it did to us, watching her fight while you played protector to someone else?”

Silence stretched, then Xaden’s voice broke through, rough as gravel. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think it kills me every time I see her and realize I wasn’t there?” His tone cracked. “You think I don’t replay it every damn night? I failed her. I know that. But don’t you stand there and tell me to stop trying to make it right.”

Garrick’s answer was sharp as steel. “It’s not about you making it right, Riorson. It’s about her deciding if she even wants you back. And until then? You keep your distance. Because I’ll be damned if I let you hurt her again.”

The weight of his words hit the air like a hammer. For a long moment, there was only the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Then, Xaden’s voice, quiet. “She was mine before she was ever yours to protect.”

That was enough to push you out the door.

Both men froze when you appeared. Garrick’s fury dimmed instantly, concern flickering across his face as he moved toward you, steadying your elbow when you wavered. Xaden’s expression, however, was raw, like you had caught him without his armor, all that storming regret laid bare.

“You don’t get to say that,” you said softly, though your voice shook with the weight of it. “I was never yours to claim. Not then. Not now.”

Xaden’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

You turned to Garrick, squeezing his arm. “And I don’t need you to fight for me, either. I can speak for myself.”

His shoulders eased, and he nodded once, backing off without protest.

Your gaze finally settled on Xaden. Shadows writhed around him, restless, hungry, but he stood utterly still, as if waiting for a sentence to fall.

“Garrick’s right,” you whispered. “This isn’t about you making it right. This is about me. And right now, what I need is space.”

For a heartbeat, something shattered in his expression — hope breaking against the stone wall of your words. But then he dipped his head once, sharply, like the soldier he was.

“If space is what you need,” his voice rasped, “I’ll give it. But I’m not walking away.”

You turned back inside before your resolve could falter, Garrick steady behind you. Xaden didn’t follow, but you felt him outside, a storm contained by your choice alone.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe that was the cruelest punishment of all:

That he could no longer step into your world unless you let him..

The days that followed were quieter. Not peaceful, never that, but quieter in the way a storm sometimes settles before it builds again.

You healed slowly, still needing Garrick’s arm or Bodhi’s jokes or Imogen’s sharp tongue to keep you steady. They never complained, never faltered. They became your tether to the world outside the battlefield, your proof that loyalty could exist without condition.

And always, the shadow lingered.

Xaden no longer tried to push his way close. He kept his word: distance. But you felt him. Every time you left your room, every time you took a shaky walk across the courtyard, he was there, at the far edge, his gaze heavy across the space between you.

At first, you refused to look. Refused to give him the smallest piece of yourself after he had already left you behind once. But some nights, when you thought no one noticed, your eyes betrayed you.

He never looked away.

It was Bodhi who broke the unspoken tension first.

One evening, as you leaned against the wall catching your breath, he tossed a pebble in Xaden’s direction and muttered under his breath, “If he stares any harder, his damn eyeballs are gonna fall out.”

You choked on a laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

Bodhi’s grin was sly, but his eyes softened. “I’m not saying forgive him. I’m just saying… maybe don’t keep holding your breath every time he’s near. You’ll run out of air.”

You didn’t answer. Because maybe he was right. But maybe breathing around Xaden meant suffocating all over again.

The real crack came the night you fell.

You had been determined, stubborn, some would say, to climb the small set of steps leading into the watchtower on your own. Garrick warned you to take it slow. Imogen gave you her unimpressed scowl. But you needed to prove to yourself that you could.

Halfway up, your legs trembled violently. The world tilted.

You didn’t hit the ground.

Strong arms caught you before the stone could. Shadows steadied your fall, cool against your burning skin.

Xaden.

For a heartbeat, you were pressed against his chest, the rhythm of his heart thundering against your ear. For a heartbeat, you remembered what it had been like to trust that sound.

Then Garrick was there, pulling you gently away, glaring daggers at Xaden. “She doesn’t need you.”

Xaden didn’t fight him. He only stepped back, hands clenched at his sides, eyes locked on you like he was silently begging.

You forced your voice steady. “Thank you. But I didn’t ask for your help.”

His face flickered, hurt flashing and gone, replaced by a slow nod. “I know.” He stepped back further, letting Garrick guide you the rest of the way. But as you glanced over your shoulder, you saw him still standing there, watching as though he’d carved himself into the shadows just to make sure you stayed upright.

The cracks widened after that.

A few words exchanged when no one else was near. A single look that lasted a second too long. His hand brushing a glass of water toward you when you were too weak to reach. Small, quiet things, nothing close to what you once shared.

And yet… they lingered.

But so did the hurt.

Every time you caught yourself softening, you remembered the image burned into you like a scar: Garrick carrying you into the healer’s tent, and Xaden sitting at Violet’s side, not once looking up.

That memory bled into everything. Into the way you turned away from him when your chest clenched. Into the way you leaned on your friends instead, choosing their steadfast presence over his shadows.

Xaden felt it. Every day, he felt it. The storm in him raged for forgiveness, but the guilt chained him silent.

He could watch. He could wait. He could bleed for it.

But whether you ever let him back in, that was no longer his choice.

The breaking point came without warning.

You’d been strong enough to join the others in the war-room, though you mostly listened while Garrick kept one hand hovering near your chair, ready to steady you. Bodhi sprawled across the map table like he owned it, Imogen scowled at every suggestion made, and Violet sat quietly, her eyes darting from person to person, listening more than she spoke.

Xaden stood in his usual place: back straight, shadows curling, the unmovable commander. For weeks, he’d stayed quiet in these meetings whenever you were present, his words clipped, his gaze averted.

But tonight something cracked.

It started small. Bodhi had made some snide comment under his breath about how at least some leaders didn’t abandon their own, and Xaden froze. His jaw tightened, shadows sparking.

Then Garrick added, “Yeah, well, actions speak louder than words. And some actions can’t be undone.”

Silence fell like a hammer.

Xaden’s gaze snapped to you. Not Garrick. Not Bodhi. You.

And for the first time, he broke.

“I failed her,” he said, voice low but carrying through the entire room. Shadows curled inward like smoke choking on itself. “I failed the one person who trusted me most. While she bled, while she fought for her life, I wasn’t there. I didn’t ask. I didn’t see her. And I’ll regret it until the day I die.”

The room stilled. Even Violet’s breath caught.

Xaden stepped forward, every line of him rigid with restraint, but his eyes, his eyes were nothing but raw storm.

“You want to hate me?” he said, turning to Garrick, to Bodhi, to Imogen. “Fine. I deserve it. You want to keep me away from her? Then drag me from this room and cut me down if you must. But don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t know what I’ve done. Or that I’ll stop trying to make it right.”

Imogen’s lips parted, fury faltering in the face of his confession. Bodhi shifted uncomfortably, for once without a retort. Garrick’s jaw tightened, protective instinct warring with the truth of Xaden’s pain.

But Xaden wasn’t looking at them anymore. His focus was entirely, devastatingly, on you.

“You don’t owe me forgiveness,” he said, voice breaking. “Hell, you don’t owe me anything at all. But you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me. And if all I’m allowed now is to stand in the shadows and watch you live, then I’ll do it. Because at least you’ll be alive. At least you’ll be here.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Everyone was watching, waiting for your answer.

Your chest ached, torn between the memory of betrayal and the truth bleeding out of him now.

Part of you wanted to scream, to tell him it wasn’t enough, that words couldn’t erase the nights you’d lain unconscious while he sat at someone else’s bedside.

But another part, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be caught by his arms before you fell, the part that remembered warmth in his shadows, not cold, whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was something left to salvage.

Your voice came out quiet, but it cut through the room all the same.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, each word like glass in your throat. “But… I’m tired of hating you.”

Xaden’s chest rose sharply, as though you’d just given him air after drowning.

You stood slowly, Garrick’s hand twitching toward you before he forced himself still. You met Xaden’s eyes across the room, not stepping closer, but not turning away either.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” you whispered. “It means I’m willing to see if I ever can again.”

For a heartbeat, the storm in him went utterly still.

And then, without a word, he bowed his head, not as a commander, not as a rebel, but as a man stripped bare, willing to wait in the shadows for as long as it took.

Trust didn’t come back overnight.

His confession had cracked something open, yes. but cracks didn’t mean healing. They only meant the walls weren’t impenetrable anymore.

The next day, he didn’t press you. He didn’t linger at your side or try to speak again. Instead, he kept his word: he remained at a distance, but his presence shifted

Less a shadow haunting. More… a guard post.

When you stumbled during a walk, Garrick caught you, but you noticed the way Xaden’s shadows flinched at the same moment, ready to steady you if needed. When Bodhi brought you food and made you laugh until your ribs ached, Xaden stood silently in the corner, eyes soft rather than storming. When Imogen guided you through light training, his gaze tracked every movement, not critical, but quietly protective.

It was infuriating. And comforting. Both at once.

The first time you truly spoke again wasn’t planned.

It was late, the courtyard nearly empty. You’d slipped outside for air, leaning against the stone wall when your strength gave out. And then you heard him behind you.

“I’m not here to talk,” Xaden said quietly. “Just… to make sure you don’t fall.”

You almost laughed. “That’s new. You sitting in silence.”

He moved closer, not touching, but near enough that you felt his warmth against the night air. “Sometimes silence says more than words.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t walk away either. And for both of you, that was enough.

But healing wasn’t a straight path.

Days later, when you caught him speaking quietly with Violet after a strategy session, their heads bent close, shadows curling around both of them, the image gutted you. It dragged you back to the memory of that night, Garrick carrying you into the healer’s tent while Xaden sat at Violet’s side.

You froze. Your chest tightened until you could hardly breathe. And when Xaden noticed you and stepped toward you, you flinched back.

His face shattered.

“I wasn’t—” he began, but you cut him off, shaking your head.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Just… don’t.”

You turned and left, Imogen appearing at your side within seconds, her eyes burning holes into his back as she followed you out.

That night, you cried into your pillow where no one could hear, hating yourself for still hurting, hating him for being the reason.

And still… the next morning, he was there.

Not pushing. Not begging. Just there. Carrying a water jug heavier than your arms could manage. Taking first watch on the wall so you could sleep without worry. Wordlessly placing a cloak around your shoulders when the night air grew cold.

Small things. Quiet things.

You never asked for them. He never asked for thanks.

But they piled up, brick by brick, until you couldn’t help but see them. Couldn’t help but feel that maybe, maybe, he was trying to rebuild not just your trust, but himself.

One evening, as you sat with Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen by the fire, Bodhi cracked another joke at Xaden’s expense. Usually, you laughed. But this time… you found yourself saying softly, “He’s trying.”

Three heads turned toward you in surprise. Imogen raised a brow, Bodhi blinked, and Garrick’s jaw tightened like he wanted to argue, but didn’t.

Because it wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was the first stone set back in place.

And Xaden, sitting just at the edge of the firelight, heard it. His shoulders loosened, his eyes closed for a brief second, as though you’d given him more than he deserved.

And maybe you had.

But maybe that was the point.

The war didn’t pause for healing hearts.

You’d barely begun regaining your strength when another skirmish threatened the outpost. Not a full battle, but enough that dragons filled the skies, enough that you all had to move.

You weren’t ready. You knew it. Garrick knew it. But the fight came anyway.

The chaos of wings and steel blurred together. You stayed back with Bodhi and Imogen, fighting from the rear lines, heart hammering as shadows and fire painted the night.

And then it happened.

A venin broke through, blade raised, charging straight toward you before you had time to lift your weapon.

You froze.

But the blade never reached you.

Shadows exploded across the ground, dragging the rider backward, pinning him to the earth. And there was Xaden, fury in his eyes, blood on his cheek, moving faster than you’d ever seen him.

His sword clashed against the rider’s with brutal precision. Every strike was sharp, efficient, not because of the enemy, but because of the space you occupied just behind him.

He didn’t let the venin get within ten feet of you. Not once.

By the time the threat was gone, your chest was heaving, adrenaline burning through your veins. Xaden turned to you, shadows coiling back into his skin, his eyes frantic.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, breathless. “I’m fine.”

The relief that washed over him nearly brought him to his knees. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might collapse right there, just from the weight of knowing you were alive.

And something inside you cracked wider.

Later, when the skirmish was over and the fires died down, you found him alone, cleaning blood from his blade.

He looked up at you as though you were both a ghost and a prayer answered. “I meant what I said. If all I’m allowed is to watch from the shadows, I will. But when it comes to keeping you alive,” His voice broke. “I’ll burn every shadow I have.”

The old you might have melted at the words. The you standing here now didn’t. You’d learned too much about the weight of words without actions.

But you remembered the way his body had moved between you and the venin. The way his shadows had answered your fear before you even cried out

It wasn’t words. It was proof.

And maybe, ust maybe, proof was enough to take another step.

That night, as you sat by the fire with Garrick, Imogen, and Bodhi, you noticed Xaden hovering on the outskirts as always. Watching, waiting.

You swallowed hard, then shifted slightly on the bench. Not much. Just enough that there was space beside you.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, carefully, cautiously, like he didn’t believe it was real, Xaden stepped forward and lowered himself onto the edge of the bench. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t speak. He just sat there, shadows quiet for the first time in weeks.

And for the first time, you didn’t push him away.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was something.

The shadows didn’t wait. But maybe… maybe they could learn to walk beside the light again.

Epilogue

The camp was quieter than usual. Smoke from dying fires curled into the night air, carrying the copper sting of blood and the acrid tang of steel. You sat on the low stone wall just beyond the healer’s tent, legs trembling from the battle’s aftermath, ribs aching where scar tissue still pulled too tight.

You hated the tent. The way it smelled of poultices and loss. The way it whispered memories you’d never quite scrape free of your skin.

So you’d slipped away, breathing the open air, letting the stars press down against your shoulders.

You didn’t hear him approach. You never did.

Shadows moved first, crawling over the ground like spilled ink. Then his boots, then his frame, broad, steady, too familiar. He stopped a few feet away, as though the distance between you had been carved into stone.

“Thought you’d be with Garrick,” Xaden said, voice low.

“He’s exhausted.” You didn’t turn your head, just watched the wavering line of torches on the horizon. “They all are.”

The unspoken words lingered in the air: because they’ve been carrying me. You wondered if he’d catch them. He always had, once.

Silence stretched, broken only by the pop of firewood and the distant murmur of healers inside the tent.

Finally, you asked, “Why are you here?”

His shadows hesitated, then curled tighter around his boots, as though tethering him in place. “Because you are.”

A bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. You shook your head, staring down at your hands; scarred, trembling, never quite steady anymore. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Something in his tone, weary, unguarded, made your throat ache. You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to lean into him. Both desires tore in opposite directions, leaving you stranded in the middle, raw and hollow.

“You weren’t there,” you whispered. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp with the wound that never healed. “When I was bleeding out, when Garrick was carrying me, when I was slipping under…” Your voice broke. You pressed your palms hard against your knees. “You weren’t there.”

He flinched as though you’d struck him. For once, the shadows didn’t try to hide it.

“I know.” His reply was ragged, his breath uneven. “And there’s nothing I can say to make it less true.”

You finally looked at him. He was a mess, hair damp with sweat, shirt torn, a cut running along his jaw. And those eyes. Haunted. Always haunted.

He wasn’t asking for forgiveness. You realized that, finally. He hadn’t been for some time.

“You’re still here,” you said, softer now, almost resigned.

“I’ll always be here.” His gaze didn’t waver. Shadows stilled, waiting, as though even they knew this moment was something fragile, dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your voice a whisper of broken glass. “Not the way I needed.”

He shut his eyes for the briefest second. When he opened them again, they gleamed with something sharp, something ruined. “No. Not the way you needed.”

The air between you was heavy, not cruel but not gentle. Just real.

You sat there for a long while, neither moving. You watching the stars, him watching you. At some point, the silence stopped being suffocating. It just was.

And maybe that was all it would ever be.

Not lovers. Not strangers. Something in between. Two people bound by shadows and scars, walking parallel paths that had once intertwined, now forever separate.

Later, when you rose and turned back toward camp, you didn’t look to see if he followed. But you knew, without needing to check, that he would be there.

Not beside you. Not behind you. But near enough. Always near enough.

[breezyblossoms]

Authors Note: Didn’t know which ending to use so here’s 3, all basically saying the thing in different ways.

It starts with a deal.

Not a spoken one; because Xaden doesn’t do that. Doesn’t lay out expectations, doesn’t give warnings. And neither do you.

You’re both soldiers. Weapons. Sharp things meant to cut.

And after a bloody sparring match, bruised ribs and knuckles scraped raw, it happens. You kiss him first. Out of rage, maybe. Frustration, adrenaline. Or maybe just because you want to see if he tastes as cold as he acts.

He kisses you back. Hard. Unforgiving.

And when it’s over; when you’re both breathless, sweat-slicked, and tangled in his sheets; you both agree on nothing.

No rules.

No promises.

No attachments.

It works. At first.

It’s easy to pretend you’re just bodies to each other. That when he grips your hips hard enough to bruise, when he whispers your name in the dark like a curse, it means nothing.

He leaves your bed before dawn. You avoid his eyes in the daylight. You spar like enemies. You fight like lovers. You say things you don’t mean; and leave things unsaid that you do.

But something breaks eventually. It always does.

You hear about the girl he kissed. And you shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But when he shows up at your door that night; silent, storm-eyed, expecting what he always does; you slam it in his face. He pushes it open anyway. Of course he does.

“You don’t get to act like this,” he growls. “You knew what this was.”

“And what was it, exactly?” you snap. “Convenient? Disposable?”

His jaw clenches. “You’re the one who said no strings.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it when you pull away.”

There’s a pause. Something flickers in his gaze; guilt, maybe. Or something worse: indifference.

“I don’t do feelings, Y/N.”

“No,” you whisper. “You just fuck them out of your system.”

But you still let him in. Because you always do.

And in the dark, when his breath is on your skin and your nails dig into his back, you let yourself believe he means it; the way he touches you like he needs you, the way he says your name like it’s a confession.

It’s too quiet after.

You’re still breathing like you just came off the battlefield, chest heaving, fingers twitching against tangled sheets.

Xaden is lying beside you, one arm folded under his head, the other across his chest like he’s holding himself together. He always does this. Stays for ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Then gone before the guilt can sink in.

But this time, you can’t take it anymore.

You lie there in the stillness, staring at the cracked ceiling, the air thick with heat and what you almost said last time. You speak before you can stop yourself.

“Do you ever think about what this could be,” you pause, “if it wasn’t just this?”

The words fall between you like something sacred. Or ruined.

And Xaden…

He goes still.

Too still.

His gaze doesn’t meet yours. His jaw tightens. You see the ripple of conflict under his skin, the war behind his silence. He’s not even pretending to relax anymore. And yet, he says nothing. Not a word.

Just pulls in a slow breath. Gets up. Starts dressing; slowly, methodically; like that question hadn’t just changed everything.

You sit up in the sheets, the cold already creeping into the space where he was. You don’t cry. You won’t give him that. You just watch.

“Seriously?” you whisper. “Nothing?”

He pulls on his shirt without answering. The silence feels louder than screaming. When he reaches for the door, your voice cuts through the air one last time.

“Say something, Xaden.”

His hand stills on the handle. He hesitates. But he doesn’t look back.

“I don’t think,” he says finally, voice low, brittle, “about things I can’t have.”

And then he leaves.

You sit there a long time afterward. The sheets still warm. The ache under your ribs spreading like poison.

You never asked him for more. You know that. But gods, you wish he hadn’t made it so clear that you were the one who did.

Ending 1:

⸻

Xaden Riorson’s POV

He knew you’d ask eventually.

Not that exact question; not in that exact tone, with your voice so soft it cut deeper than shouting ever could. But something close. Something real.

That was always the risk.

Not the sex. Not the secrecy.

But you; asking him to stop pretending that this wasn’t the only place he ever felt whole.

And he doesn’t answer. Because he can’t.

Because saying yes means admitting that every time he touches you, it’s not to forget; it’s to remember what it feels like to belong to something good. Something unpromised. Something dangerous.

He doesn’t look at you when he gets dressed. He doesn’t trust himself to.

Because you’d see it then; the way his hands are shaking, the way his chest hurts like you left your handprint inside his ribs. He knows how this ends. It always ends the same.

With him choosing silence.

With him walking away.

He doesn’t go back to his room that night.

He goes to the top of the parapet instead. No guards. No shadows. Just wind and moonlight and the sound of his own goddamn regret.

He stays there until dawn.

The next few days are worse.

You don’t look at him during sparring. You switch partners in battle brief. You laugh at something another cadet says, and Xaden’s jaw nearly cracks from how hard he clenches it.

Imogen notices. Of course she does. “You did it again, didn’t you?” she mutters. “You pushed her away.”

“I didn’t promise her anything.”

Imogen scoffs. “You didn’t have to. You gave her everything without saying a word. That’s worse.”

He wants to deny it. But he can’t.

Because you’re everywhere.

In the shirt you left behind on his room. In the ache in his chest when he lies down and the bed still smells like you. In the quiet moments between patrols when he hears your dragon’s voice in his head; low and pulsing with disapproval.

You were supposed to protect her. Not make her feel like she’s nothing.

He finds one of your hair ties under his pillow five days later. He doesn’t know why he picks it up. Doesn’t know why he closes his fist around it and holds it like it’s the only tether left to something soft. But he does. And that’s when it hits him.

You didn’t ask him for anything.

You didn’t beg. You didn’t demand. You trusted him with that question; let him see the one part of you no one else ever touches.

And he walked out. Because he’s a coward. Because he doesn’t know how to stay. Because he never believed he could be enough for someone like you.

And now?

He’s not sure you’ll ever let him try again.

That night, Xaden doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t train. Doesn’t patrol. He sits on the floor of his room, your hair tie still wrapped around his fingers, replaying your voice over and over again.

“Do you ever think about what this could be?”

And finally, finally, he whispers into the dark:

“Every fucking day.”

But it’s too late.

You’re gone.

And this time, you didn’t leave the door unlocked behind you.

Ending 2:

The kiss means nothing.

That’s what you tell yourself.

You kiss him; that pretty third-year who’s been orbiting you for weeks; because it’s a party, because the music’s loud, because your lips are tired of waiting for something that won’t come.

You feel Xaden’s eyes on you before you even pull away.

Across the courtyard, drink untouched, jaw sharp with tension. That familiar black shirt rolled to his elbows. That same unreadable face he’s worn since the first time you ever touched.

But this time, something cracks beneath it.

He disappears a moment later. Doesn’t say a word.

And part of you; the weak, worn-out part; wants to chase him. But you don’t. Not this time.

You come back to your room after midnight, laughter still ringing in your ears. The taste of someone else on your tongue. You tell yourself you’re over it. Over him.

But the second you step inside, you feel it. The storm in the room. He’s there. In the dark. Sitting in your chair like he belongs to the silence.

You don’t move. Don’t turn on the light.

“Get out,” you say softly. He doesn’t.

“You don’t get to do this anymore, Xaden.” Still nothing.

You’re halfway to telling him again when he stands; slow, deliberate; and crosses the room.

“You kissed him.”

Your jaw tightens. “You don’t own me.”

He stops inches away.

“No,” he murmurs, voice low. “But you let me touch you like I did.” There’s heat in his words. Pain. Something feral.

He crowds you until your back hits the wall. Not touching. Just close enough that you can feel the rage trembling beneath his skin.

“Did he make you feel anything?” he asks, voice rough. “Did he even know how to touch you the way I—”

You slap him. Hard.

He flinches, but doesn’t move back.

“Don’t ask me that,” you whisper. “You don’t get to ask anything. You don’t even talk to me unless it’s with your hands.”

And then; gods, you hate yourself for it; you kiss him. Hard. Like it’ll punish you both.

He pushes you back against the wall and devours you. Desperate. Rough. Silent. No words.

Only hands, mouths, need.

His fingers grip your hips like they’re the only anchor he has. His breath stutters against your skin. Every movement is frantic, unhinged, like he’s trying to brand himself into your bones. Like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

And you let him.

Because you’re weak. Because you still want him. Because no one’s ever touched you like you’re a secret worth breaking for.

When it’s over, he doesn’t leave. He stays kneeling beside your bed, hands still on you, like he can’t let go.

You say nothing.

You’re both bleeding in ways that can’t be seen. You think, maybe, he wants to speak. To try. But he doesn’t. Because that’s who he is.

And maybe that’s who you are, too; the girl who lets him ruin her, over and over, just to feel close to something real.

You don’t talk for three weeks. Not after that night. Not after the party. Not after the way he touched you like he was drowning, and you were the only breath he’d ever known.

You expected him to disappear again. That’s what he always does.

But this time… he doesn’t.

He doesn’t try to sleep with you.

He doesn’t try to explain.

He just starts showing up.

He brings you your forgotten scarf after drills. Waits outside sparring to walk you back to your quadrant; two paces behind, never pushing. He doesn’t say much. But he sees you. The bruises. The exhaustion. The loneliness.

And for once, he doesn’t try to fix it with his hands.

He just… stays.

You break the silence first.

“You haven’t tried to fuck me in weeks,” you say one night in passing, trying to sound light, cruel, anything but exposed.

He glances up. Something in his expression tightens.

“I’m trying not to ruin it this time.”

You freeze.

“It?”

He nods. “You.”

He doesn’t apologize. Not exactly. Not with flowers. Or speeches. Or some reckless confession.

He just keeps showing up. Keeps making space for you in his life like he doesn’t expect you to stay; but hopes you might.

He doesn’t ask for your time.

He earns it. Slowly. Carefully. Like if he breathes wrong, he’ll lose you again.

One night, after patrol, you find him outside your door.

Not inside. Not waiting in the dark.

Just… there. Leaning against the wall. Looking wrecked.

You step close. Not touching.

And you ask, so soft it barely makes a sound:

“Do you still think about what this could be… if it wasn’t just that?”

He lifts his head. Meets your eyes. And this time, he answers.

“I think about it every night.”

You swallow. “And?”

“I don’t want you in pieces anymore,” he whispers. “I want you whole. Even if that means you’re not mine.”

He looks like he’s ready to walk away again; to respect it if you send him back into silence.

But you don’t.

Instead, you reach out. Just your hand, slow and shaking, pressing it to the front of his chest. His heartbeat is erratic. Terrified.

“You never had to ruin me to keep me,” you whisper. “You just had to stay.”

His eyes close. And this time, when he leans in; it’s not rough. Not desperate.

It’s quiet. Gentle. A beginning.

Ending 3:

You lie to your friends constantly.

“It’s nothing,” you tell Bodhi when he asks why Xaden always looks at you like he’s seconds from imploding.

“It was a fling,” you say to Imogen, when she raises an eyebrow after Xaden shows up bloodied and sleepless again, post-mission.

You say it with a shrug, a smirk, a look that screams unbothered. But you flinch every time.

Especially when you see him sparring with Violet; close, quiet, his hand lingering too long on her hip, his mouth brushing near her ear as he mutters something low and strategic.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. But it feels like everything.

Then comes the mission. It’s supposed to be standard: low threat, recon only. But something goes wrong.

Too many Venins. A shadow-ambush. A Venin weapon where there shouldn’t have been one.

You get hit. Not fatally. But enough to make your vision swim. Enough to make your dragon roar through the bond, calling out with a fury that feels too big; not hers. Someone else’s. You black out to the sound of your name being screamed.

And when you wake up, it’s chaos. Not around you, but around him.

Xaden is pacing the edge of the healer’s tent like a caged animal. There’s blood on his hands that isn’t his. His voice is hoarse from shouting at command. There’s a rip in his sleeve where someone tried to hold him back.

You hear the tail end of the report:

“He disobeyed three direct orders. Left formation. Nearly cost us the flank. Attacked a lieutenant when they tried to restrain him.”

He almost got court-martialed.

For you.

You’re still too foggy to react when he finally storms in.

“You fucking idiot,” he snaps.

“Nice to see you too.”

“You could’ve died.”

You blink slowly. “So what? It’s not like we’re anything.” That stops him cold.

Your voice is hollow when you add, “Isn’t that what you told me? Isn’t that the whole fucking point?”

His fists curl.

“I meant to keep you safe.”

“No,” you whisper. “You meant to keep me at arm’s length. There’s a difference.”

You both freeze. The truth vibrating in the space between you like lightning waiting to strike.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t because you’re right. Because if he admits it now; admits what you are to him; it means everything he’s done to avoid it was a lie, and maybe he’s just not ready for that.

So instead, he walks toward your bed, slowly and quietly, and sinks to his knees beside you. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the blood staining your skin, the bruise darkening beneath your collarbone. His expression is unreadable.

But his eyes…

His eyes look like they’ve already lost you.

He stays like that for a long time. You don’t say a word and neither does he, because this is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. And somehow, it’s not enough.

Not anymore.

You’re released from the med tent two days later.

Stiff. Quiet. Whole; but not really.

He doesn’t visit again, not after that first night. It hurts more than it should, because for all his silence, all his sharp-edged restraint, you thought maybe… just maybe that meant something. That him tearing through protocol to find you, bleeding and half-alive, might’ve cracked him open.

But no.

You don’t hear from him, you don’t see him. Not until the war briefing three days later; where you walk in, bandaged, still sore, and find him already standing in the back.

He looks at you like he wants to speak. Like maybe he’ll pull you aside, but he doesn’t. Not until the room clears, not until it’s just you and him. And when you turn to leave, he steps in front of the door.

“Don’t,” you warn. Your voice is brittle. Shaking. “Don’t stand there like you finally give a shit.”

“I do.”

You flinch. The words hit too fast. And too late.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice cracks. “You sat in that tent like you were mourning me and still left without a word.”

He looks ruined. Because he is.

“I didn’t know how.”

“Try.”

“I—” His voice falters. “I don’t know what this is. What we are. I just know that when I saw you bleeding; when I thought I might lose you; nothing else mattered. Not rank. Not orders. Not survival.”

His voice is shaking now. He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at the floor like it might split him open.

“I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing,” he says. “Not when it’s the only thing I actually feel.”

You’re silent. Breath caught somewhere in your chest, and when you finally speak, it’s soft. Almost broken.

“So say it.”

His eyes lift to yours.

“Say what?”

You swallow hard. “Whatever you’re trying not to.”

Silence stretches between you.

Then—

“I care about you.”

Still not enough.

“I—” he tries again, breathless. “I think about you constantly. I watch you walk into a room and forget how to breathe. I’ve wanted to say something a hundred times, and I didn’t, and now—” He stops. Then steps forward.

“You asked me once if I thought about what this could be if it wasn’t just… this.”

You nod, tears pricking your eyes.

“I think about it every night,” he says.

“And?”

“And I want it.”

Your heart stutters. He steps closer again, tentative. Like he’ll stop if you even blink.

“I want you,” he says. “Not just your body. Not just the quiet. You. Even when I don’t know how to say it right. Even when I’m a fucking disaster.”

You stare at him. Shaking. Reeling. Wrecked.

“You don’t get to walk back with everything you broke with one confession,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“You don’t get to keep me unless you show up. Every time.”

He nods. Jaw clenched, like he’s holding back a thousand other things.

“I will.”

You step closer. Just a breath between you now.

“Say it again.”

His hand grazes yours. Slow. Careful. No fire this time. No taking. Just the asking.

“I want you,” he says. “Every day. Every version of you. Even the one that hates me.”

You let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Almost a sob.

And then; finally; you let him hold you.

This time, not to burn. Not to forget. But to stay.

[breezyblossoms]

Authors Note: trying something new! Let me know what y’all think! 🫶🏼

Pre-Relationship Headcanons

• Xaden barely looks at you during your first few months at Basgiath, convinced you’re just another naïve rider with no idea what it means to carry the weight of war.

• You challenge him during sparring one day; not out of arrogance, but out of necessity. That’s the moment he starts to see you.

• After that, he watches you more closely than he means to, though his expression never softens.

• Xaden pretends not to care, but he always ends up positioned between you and danger on missions. You don’t know it’s intentional; he always makes it look like coincidence.

• He trains with you longer than the others, pushing you harder than most, because he’s seen how good you are, and he needs you to survive.

• The first time Ridoc flirts with you, Xaden glares so sharply that Ridoc mutters something about “dragon-sized possessiveness” under his breath and backs off.

• But Xaden never voices his jealousy. Instead, he tightens his grip on his blade during sparring and takes it out on dummies later.

• You leave a glove behind after training. Xaden picks it up, stares at it for a moment, and instead of tossing it aside… he keeps it.

• He tells himself he’s holding it until he sees you again. That turns into days.

• One night, you’re both on late patrol. When your hands brush accidentally, you both freeze. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

• His voice, normally cold and clipped, sounds softer when he murmurs, “Don’t get yourself killed, Y/N.”

⸻

During Relationship Headcanons

• Xaden is fiercely private about your relationship; he doesn’t parade it, doesn’t need anyone to know. But the way he looks at you could start a war.

• You know the difference between Wingleader Xaden and your Xaden; the one who unbuckles your armor with reverence, not rush.

• Sgaeyl senses his feelings for you before he does. She watches him watch you, unimpressed. Eventually, she relays a blunt, “You’re pathetic” kind of message.

• He growls at her. You catch the tail end of the conversation and just know she’s taunting him about you.

• He never sleeps deeply. But when you’re next to him, his guard lowers just enough. His arm stays wrapped around you even in sleep, grounding him.

• You once woke up to him brushing a strand of hair from your face with a look of heartbreak and awe like he’s convinced he’ll lose you one day.

• Fights with Xaden are rare, but volcanic. He shuts down emotionally when scared; usually when you put yourself in danger.

• “Don’t you dare make me watch you die,” he snarls after one mission, voice cracking. You realize it’s not anger. It’s fear.

• He kisses your lips with hunger. But your forehead? That’s reserved for when he’s overwhelmed with emotion.

• After a close call, after a shared secret, after a silent moment beneath the stars; that’s when his lips press to your forehead like a vow.

• He never tells you not to fight. Never demands you sit missions out. But you know by the way he lingers before every flight that if something happened to you, it would unmake him.

• “Come back to me,” he says lowly every time. And you always do.

• Before he even admits he’s in love, his shadows behave differently around you; curling protectively near your feet, brushing your fingertips like they know.

• When you’re alone, they often curl around the both of you, cocooning you in a space only you and Xaden belong in.

[breezyblossoms]

Author Note: IM SO SORRY FOR ANOTHER VERY LONG ONE!!!

You met Bodhi at Basgiath before the ink of your surname had even dried on the parchment.

He had offered a sarcastic smile, a tilted chin, and a hand callused from hours gripping a dagger hilt. “You’re not gonna make it past the parapet if you keep hesitating like that, you know.” You had scowled, shoved back the dread rising in your chest, and stepped onto the narrow stone deathtrap anyway. He didn’t leave your side once.

That’s how it started. A friendship forged in adrenaline and survival. Bodhi, with his ridiculous jokes and sharp wit, always one step away from disaster. And you, calculating and quiet, the one who kept him grounded.

So when he introduced you to his cousin a few weeks into your first year, you’d been entirely unprepared for the impact. “Y/N, this is Xaden. Try not to stab him, no matter how punchable he looks.” You didn’t respond. Mostly because your tongue had stopped working the second Xaden turned his storm-dark gaze on you.

You hadn’t known then that your whole life would bend toward him like a compass to true north.

⸻

The relationship came slow. Xaden wasn’t the type to fall. He was the type to watch from the edge of the room, arms crossed, reading everyone like a battle plan. But with you, he softened—in ways he never meant to. You weren’t some damsel in need of protecting. You could break a man’s arm in three moves and had a signet that made even the third-years uneasy.

Still, when you were in his arms, curled up in his room with the sound of Sgaeyl’s wings rustling outside, you felt… safe.

He didn’t say I love you. Not with words. But in the way he tracked you across the training fields. In the way he’d pull you back from danger and growl, “Don’t do that again. I can’t—” and then stop himself. You knew.

But then Violet arrived.

⸻

The Threshing changed everything. You stood near the edge of the field, Kaerith’s massive body coiled protectively around you like a stormcloud made flesh. And then you saw them.

Tairn. Andarna. Violet Sorrengail.

Xaden’s expression didn’t change—but you felt it. The shift. The way he stepped toward her, as if fate had threaded something between them. You tried not to flinch. Tried not to see how Sgaeyl’s head dipped toward the golden hatchling with something like awe.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly. It was… displacement. Like the story had kept moving without you.

⸻

You didn’t break up all at once. It was in the missed glances. The quiet dinners. The way his fingers twitched when he reached for you—then stopped.

One night, you sat in his room, your back to the wall, knees pulled to your chest. Xaden didn’t meet your eyes.

“She’s bonded to them,” he finally said. You nodded. “I know.” “I don’t want this to change anything.”

But it already had. So you left. Not with drama. Not with screams or accusations. Just a quiet morning where you didn’t show up to sparring. A room left empty. A dragon that took to the skies before anyone could stop him. You needed air. Needed to remember what it felt like to live without always looking over your shoulder, waiting for war.

Bodhi didn’t ask questions when you wrote. He just wrote back, “Where are you?”

You met him a few weeks later in a forest clearing near a coastal cliff. Kaerith growled at his approach, then relented when he saw Bodhi alone. He offered you bread, water, and silence. “Gonna tell him?” he asked after a long while. You shook your head. Bodhi leaned back against a tree and said, “Alright.” Because Bodhi had always known when to push—and when to simply sit beside you in the quiet.

⸻

Months later

You don’t remember what exactly happened. One moment, you were walking through a small valley, scouting for herbs and supplies near a river. The next, a blade from a Venin ambush sliced across your abdomen like fire. Kaerith had roared, a sound that cracked the trees and sent every bird skyward.

You remember falling. Then… darkness. Miles away, a blue-scaled dragon lifted his head.

“She’s down.”

Bodhi knew something was wrong the moment Cuir stirred. His dragon had been resting atop the cliffside near the northern coast, where the wind howled like it carried ghosts, when he suddenly tensed—eyes flaring a deep, storm-touched blue.

“Kaerith called out. She’s hurt.”

Bodhi froze mid-step. “Y/N?” he asked aloud, though the question was useless. He already knew. A flicker of pain—not his—rushed through the bond with Cuir, sharp and nauseating, and the dragon launched into the sky without waiting for permission.

He didn’t need to ask where. He’d been there before. That small river bend surrounded by wildflower fields and cliffs, where you met him sometimes with a tired smile and the kind of quiet peace Basgiath never offered.

The sky blurred around them as Cuir pushed himself to the limit. Wind lashed Bodhi’s face. His hands in a fist.

Please be alive. Please.

⸻

Kaerith was a storm on the ground. His massive wings snapped trees like twigs, his tail lashing in wide arcs as he circled your still form—laid across a stone near the riverbank, barely breathing.

Bodhi didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He dropped from Virek before he landed, skidding to your side in seconds.

“Y/N—” His voice cracked. “Hey, hey, no sleeping on the job, remember?” You didn’t answer.

There was blood. Too much. Seeping from a gash just beneath your ribs, and bruises already blooming along your collarbone. Your pulse fluttered weakly beneath his fingertips. Kaerith let out a low, guttural sound that was more grief than rage.

“She needs Brennen,” Bodhi said to no one in particular. “Then take her.” Kaerith’s voice thundered directly into his mind, ancient and wild. Cuir rumbled in agreement beside him.

Bodhi swallowed hard and gathered you into his arms, ignoring the blood, the pain, the broken pieces. You were limp. Your head lolled against his chest. He held you like something fragile. Like you might vanish.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re not dying on me, okay? You don’t get to leave twice.”

⸻

They landed in Aretia under a storm-gray sky. The winds carried ash from distant fires, and the cliffs were shadowed by the late hour. But Bodhi barely saw any of it—he moved like a man possessed, Kaerith flying close behind with a protective shriek that echoed off the cliffs. He didn’t realize how much noise they made until people started running.

“Get Brennen!” someone shouted.

“Is that—?”

“Is she—?”

And then—

“Bodhi.”

That voice. Low. Cold. Laced with something dangerous. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Xaden stood near the edge of the courtyard, black hair wind-tossed, shadows clinging to his boots like loyal pets. Sgaeyl dropped down behind him in a whisper of wings, her eyes immediately locking on Kaerith. And then his eyes landed on you—in Bodhi’s arms, unconscious and bloodied. Everything about him stilled. Time cracked.

“What the fuck happened?” Xaden’s voice was sharp, near a snarl. “She was attacked,” Bodhi said flatly, shifting your weight as he moved toward the doors where Brennen was already shouting orders. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Xaden snapped, stepping into his path. Bodhi didn’t stop walking. “I asked you a fucking question, Bodhi.” He turned then, slowly. Looked his cousin in the eye—really looked at him. And saw it. The wild panic under the surface. The tremor in his jaw. The pain he was trying so hard to hide.

“I didn’t tell you,” Bodhi said quietly, “because she asked me not to.” Xaden’s fists clenched. “You should’ve—” “She was my best friend,” Bodhi said sharply, cutting him off. “Long before she was your girlfriend. I owe her that.” The words hit harder than any punch. Xaden reeled like he’d taken a blow to the ribs.

Brennen pushed between them then, snapping, “Unless one of you is bleeding out, move.” Bodhi did. He carried you through the doors and didn’t look back.

⸻

Later that night

Xaden stood outside your room. He hadn’t moved in over an hour. Inside, Brennen worked quietly, mending you with a tired, pale expression. Your chest rose and fell—barely, but it did. Kaerith loomed just outside the window, his silver eyes glowing through the storm. And Bodhi? He sat in a chair near your bedside, holding your hand. Xaden’s jaw tightened. You were here. Alive. And you hadn’t told him.

⸻

The sun rose slow over Aretia. Its light crept in like it was afraid to touch the stone walls, painting them in pale gold and soft blue. But inside your room, time didn’t move. Not really.

Your breathing was steady now. Still shallow. Still cautious. But steady.

Xaden stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder pressed to the wall as if it were the only thing holding him up. His eyes hadn’t left you in hours.

You lay against the pillows, pale as ash. Bandages wrapped around your midsection and shoulder. A bruise bloomed along your jaw like a shadow of the battle you didn’t get to finish.

You hadn’t woken yet. Brennen sat beside you, murmuring quietly to Kaerith through the window every so often. The massive dragon had refused to leave. Not even when offered food. Not even when others tried to soothe him. “Your bond’s too deep,” Brennen had said once under his breath, fingers pressing over your wound. “He’ll feel her pain like it’s his own.”

Xaden didn’t reply. Because he understood. He felt yours like a phantom limb. A dull ache in the back of his skull, just where memory lived. And fuck, there were so many memories.

⸻

He hadn’t meant to fall for you. It wasn’t part of the plan—hell, nothing with you ever was. You’d been quiet where he was storm. Brutal where he was calculating. And still, you’d seen through him from the beginning.

That first year, he’d caught you and Bodhi sitting outside the barracks at midnight, stargazing like you weren’t being trained to kill.

You’d looked up, eyes full of stardust and steel, and asked, “Do you think we’re allowed to want more than survival?” And he hadn’t known what to say. He never had. Until it was too late.

⸻

The door creaked. Bodhi stepped out quietly, closing it behind him. Xaden didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched him with unreadable eyes.

“She’s stable,” Bodhi said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Still out cold.” Xaden didn’t reply. Bodhi sighed. “You don’t have to hover, you know.” “I’m not.” “You are,” he said flatly. “You haven’t blinked in a while,” Bodhi said again, a note of dry exhaustion threading through his voice. Xaden finally shifted his gaze, dragging it from your still form just long enough to glare at him. “I’m not leaving her,” he said. Quiet. Final. Bodhi leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing his arms. His usual lightness was gone. “Didn’t say you should.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that settles in when two people have too much history to fill it with anything else.

“She cried when she left, you know,” Bodhi added after a beat, eyes locked on the ground. “Not loud. Not where anyone would see. But I did. I always do.” Xaden’s jaw locked. “You should’ve told me she was alive.” “She asked me not to.” “I would’ve gone after her.” “That’s exactly why she didn’t want you to know.”

Xaden’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. Not at first. Not until— “I would’ve brought her back.”

Bodhi looked up, sharp. “Brought her back to what, Xaden? A war? A life she never wanted? You?” Xaden’s silence was colder than steel. “You weren’t ready to fight for her,” Bodhi said. “Not when she needed it most.”

That hit like a gut punch. Because it was true. Because he’d known—deep down—that he’d let you walk out of his life with too many words unsaid and too many fears swallowing him whole.

“I loved her.” Bodhi stared at him. “Then why didn’t you run after her when she left?” Xaden looked back toward your door.

“I thought I’d already lost her.”

⸻

Inside the room, the first signs of waking stirred in your chest. Your breathing hitched, shallow but quickening, and Brennen leaned forward immediately. “Y/N,” he said gently, pressing a hand to your wrist. “You’re safe. You’re in Aretia.”

Your eyelids fluttered open. Light spilled in too fast, too sharp. You squinted against it. The dull throb in your side surged, and Kaerith’s presence flared through the bond—solid, grounding, massive.

You are safe.

You reached out mentally, weak but steady. You didn’t leave.

Never.

Then the door opened. And everything slowed. Because standing just inside the frame, armor still dusty, hair a mess, shadows clinging to his boots— Was him. Xaden Riorson.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. He took one step inside. You blinked up at him, eyes glassy, chest burning.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

“Hi,” he said hoarsely.

It shattered you.

⸻

The moment stretched. You stared up at him, chest tight, throat dry, barely able to process the reality of him standing in your doorway again. Of those eyes—dark, storm-torn, familiar—fixed on you like you were something fragile he didn’t know how to hold.

And Xaden didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. “Can I come closer?” he asked. It came out quieter than you’d ever heard him. You gave the smallest nod.

He crossed the room in three slow steps, dragging a chair beside your cot. His hands—gloved, blood-stained from flight, from war—hesitated for a moment before peeling the leather away. He set the gloves down, one over the other, like he was trying to do something with them. His fingers trembled once, then stilled.

When he sat, the chair creaked under his weight—but he didn’t lean back. He leaned forward. Toward you. Like he couldn’t stay away anymore.

His eyes traced every inch of you—your temple, bruised; your arm, still bandaged; the deep, angry wound over your ribs that Brennen had barely managed to stabilize. His jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely. “Gods, Y/N, I didn’t know it was this bad.” You blinked, slow. “Would it have mattered if you did?” He flinched like you’d slapped him. You almost regretted the question. But not enough to take it back. Because it did matter. You mattered. And there were too many nights you’d fallen asleep wondering if you’d ever mattered enough.

“You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered,” he said finally, voice scraping raw across his throat. You looked at him—really looked. There was something so tired in him. So desperately, devastatingly tired. Like he’d been walking through a world that no longer made sense since the day you left it.

“I needed you,” you whispered. “I know.” “I waited for you.” “I know.”

His hand moved, fingers stretching forward. Then paused, inches from yours on the blanket. You didn’t move. So he let his palm drop gently onto the edge of your hand, barely touching. His thumb brushed your knuckle—once, slow. Reverent. It felt like something shattered in your chest.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said. “Not once. Not when I was training Violet. Not when I was sent across the ward. Not even when I should’ve been thinking about everything else.”

You swallowed thickly. “Then why didn’t you come?” He exhaled like the question burned. “Because I thought I already destroyed you once,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d survive me again.” You closed your eyes. Because the truth was—you didn’t know either.

⸻

Outside the window, Kaerith shifted, massive wings stretching across the sky like a shield. Sgaeyl perched silently nearby, still and watchful. Dragons, quiet in their knowing.

You opened your eyes again. And whispered, “I still love you.” Xaden’s breath left him like a weapon had torn it out. His hand gripped yours. Tight.

And then he said it back—choked, ragged, as if it had been lodged in his throat since the day you left.

“I never stopped.”

⸻

You didn’t let go of his hand. Not for a while. There was something comforting in the way his thumb kept brushing over your knuckles, slow and steady. Like he was reminding himself you were real. Like he didn’t believe it. Your breath caught once, and Xaden stilled.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, already halfway to pulling back. “No,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. “Just… not used to this.” He nodded, slow. You didn’t have to say what this was. Not really. Touch. Closeness. Letting him in again after all the silence.

The room stayed quiet for a long time, filled only with Kaerith’s distant grumble outside, and the low creak of Sgaeyl shifting beside him. Two massive dragons—bound by instinct, by history—standing watch like sentinels.

Brennen came in briefly to check your pulse, muttering something about how your color was better. He didn’t say anything about the way Xaden sat, hunched forward like if he let go of your hand for even a second, the whole world might crack open again. Brennen didn’t have to. He knew better than anyone what broken things looked like when they were trying to heal.

After he left, you shifted slightly in the bed, wincing as your ribs flared hot with pain.

Xaden was there instantly. “Careful.” “I’m fine,” you murmured. His brow furrowed. “You almost died.” You looked away. “I didn’t.” “Don’t do that.” You turned your head back slowly. “Do what?”

“Pretend like it didn’t matter. Like I wouldn’t have gone insane if Bodhi hadn’t brought you here. Like you’re just another mission casualty.” You stared at him for a long moment. “You didn’t come for me.” “I didn’t know where to look.” “You didn’t try.”

That landed.

Xaden leaned back, running a hand down his face, like he hated every version of himself that had let you slip through the cracks. “I was scared,” he said finally. You blinked. “You’re never scared.” His laugh was hollow. “I’m scared every damn day. Of losing people. Of being wrong. Of not being strong enough to stop what’s coming. But you?” His eyes lifted to yours again. “You’re the only thing I was ever scared of losing completely.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said the truth.

“I thought you already had.”

⸻

A soft knock interrupted whatever would’ve come next. Bodhi pushed open the door a crack. “Everything alright?”

You and Xaden looked at him at the same time. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Come in.” He stepped inside, dragging a chair toward your other side. “You look less dead. That’s promising.”

You rolled your eyes, and the motion made your bruised jaw throb. “Thanks for the assessment, Healer General.” Bodhi grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Kaerith told me the minute you twitched. Bastard nearly knocked the whole roof off trying to get my attention.”

Xaden’s gaze flicked to him. “You’re still talking to her dragon?” Bodhi raised a brow. “You’re still pretending you didn’t want to break something when you saw her in that bed?” The silence that followed was sharp.

Bodhi’s voice softened. “She’s my best friend, Xaden. She always has been. I wasn’t keeping her from you. I was protecting her for you. From everything. Even you.”

You didn’t breathe. Xaden didn’t flinch. But you could feel the tension radiating between them like heat off embers. Deep. Scalding. Unspoken.

“I’d do it again,” Bodhi added. “Because she asked me to.” “She’s mine,” Xaden bit out, low and raw. Bodhi shook his head. “Not anymore. Not unless she says so.” And for a long second, no one said anything. Then Xaden turned to you, eyes searching.

“Do I still get to be yours?” he asked. Your throat tightened. Your fingers curled into his. And you whispered, “I don’t know yet. But I want to.”

⸻

You made it outside by morning. Barely. Your legs shook with every step down the stone corridor, but you were walking. Brennen had raised an eyebrow, clearly ready to lecture you into oblivion, but Bodhi had just handed you a cloak and said, “Don’t fall. I’m not carrying you again.”

So now, you stood beneath the towering archway of Aretia’s outer courtyard, bathed in the golden light of sunrise, your breath fogging gently in the cool air.

And Kaerith? Kaerith was pissed.

He loomed behind you like a thundercloud with wings, tail sweeping close at your back, nostrils flaring every time someone so much as looked your way.

Xaden emerged from the barracks steps just as you reached the edge of the field. You stopped walking. So did he. Kaerith growled low. A sound of warning.

“Down,” you said, without looking back. Kaerith didn’t move. Xaden held his ground but raised his hands slightly, eyes never leaving yours. “Tell your oversized death machine I’m not here to fight.”

“I told you that last time,” Bodhi muttered from behind you. “Didn’t stop you.” You ignored them both and took another step forward. The movement made your ribs scream. Your body trembled. But Xaden was already in front of you. Hands reaching.

And Kaerith—Kaerith roared.

Sgaeyl dropped out of the sky like a dark streak of lightning, slamming between you and Xaden in one smooth motion, tail curling protectively. “Kaerith,” you snapped, grabbing a handful of his scales. “Stand down.”

He snarled, but relented—barely. Sgaeyl snorted. If dragons could roll their eyes, she absolutely just had.

Xaden waited, eyes full of something that looked dangerously close to fear. Not of Kaerith. Not of Sgaeyl. But of you.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded once. “More or less.” He exhaled slowly. “You’re walking.” “Don’t get too excited. I still feel like I got trampled by a gryphon.” The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

You glanced up at Kaerith. “He doesn’t like you very much right now.” “I deserve it.” “He’s only like this with people who matter.” His eyes flicked to yours. “Do I still matter?” You blinked. Then—quiet, careful—you said, “More than I want to admit.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Not yet. But enough to feel. “Let me stay,” he said softly. “Wherever you are. However you need me. Just let me try again.” You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at his hands, his eyes, the quiet desperation under the cool mask he always wore.

And then—

You reached up. Touched his face. Barely. Kaerith huffed but didn’t move. “Okay,” you whispered. “But you don’t get to break me again.” “I won’t,” Xaden said. Like a promise. Like a vow. You believed him.

Gods help you, you believed him.

⸻

You didn’t go far that day. A few steps into the courtyard. A brief moment in the light. Then you were exhausted, half-leaning on Kaerith, the world tilting slightly at the edges. Xaden had said nothing. Just stayed close enough to catch you if you stumbled.

By nightfall, you were in one of the smaller guest rooms inside the northern wing—one of the few places in Aretia that felt untouched by war. The walls were warm sandstone. A soft rug covered the cold floor. There was a window that looked out into the valley. Xaden had brought a chair again. But this time? You told him not to.

“I don’t want you across the room,” you said softly. “I don’t need the space. Not anymore.” He didn’t argue. Didn’t push, either. He just sat at the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees, like he was afraid to move.

You watched him for a long moment. The shape of his shoulders. The way he exhaled slow through his nose like he’d been holding his breath for days. “Lie down,” you said. His brow lifted, guarded. “You sure?” You nodded. “I trust you. And I… I miss you.” That broke him a little.

He kicked off his boots and climbed in carefully, like you might vanish if he moved too quickly. The bed dipped beneath his weight. The warmth of him slid into the space beside you. He didn’t touch you—not at first. But his presence was loud. And familiar.

He lay on his back, hands over his chest, staring at the ceiling like it held answers to everything he couldn’t say. You shifted, slow and cautious, until your head rested just beneath his shoulder. He froze. Then—slowly, carefully—his arm wrapped around you. And gods, you didn’t realize how much you missed this. Missed him. The shape of his body beside yours. The weight of his palm at your side. The way your breathing fell into rhythm like it always used to.

Minutes passed like hours. Then he said—barely a whisper—“You still do that thing when you sleep.” You blinked against his chest. “What thing?” “You breathe out three times really fast. Then pause. You’ve always done it.” You smiled into the fabric of his shirt. “You remember that?” “I never forgot.” A beat. “I tried.” Your heart twisted. “I didn’t stop loving you,” he added quietly. “Even when it felt like I had to.”

You lifted your head. Looked at him. Really looked at him. There was a vulnerability in his eyes you rarely saw. Not even when you first kissed. Not even when you first fought. This wasn’t desperation. This was truth. And so you leaned in. Pressed your lips to his—gentle. Slow. Not a promise. Not yet. Just a memory finding its way home. When you pulled back, he exhaled hard, eyes still closed. And you whispered, “I still love you, too.”

⸻

The morning light bled into the room like an old wound—slow, reluctant. You stirred before he did. Your body still ached in all the places that hadn’t quite forgiven you. But you were breathing. Steady. Even. And you were warm. Because Xaden hadn’t moved an inch. He was still there, one arm around you, your cheek tucked against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, slow and thunderous. Like it had something to say.

You didn’t move. Not at first. You just listened. To the silence. To him. To the way your breath still fell in sync without trying. But eventually, you whispered, “I don’t know how to stop being mad at you.”

Xaden opened his eyes. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it. “Then be mad,” he said, voice rough. “Yell at me. Hit me. Whatever you need.” You looked up at him, eyes burning. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “You already did,” he said quietly. “When you left.”

You sat up then, too fast. Pain flared across your ribs, but you didn’t stop. “You think that was easy for me?” “No.” He sat up, too, turning toward you. “I think it killed you. Just like it did me.”

Kaerith stirred outside the window, sensing the tension. His wings rustled like storm winds through the valley. You didn’t need the bond to know he was restless—protective.

Xaden’s jaw clenched. “I saw the way everything shifted after Threshing. After her. I couldn’t divide myself cleanly anymore. Orders from Tairn. Protection. Secrets. You—” He broke off, eyes burning. “You deserved better than being second to someone I didn’t even love.” The words hit hard. You felt them deep, like truth and regret in one sharp breath.

“But I still left,” you whispered. “I walked away. I didn’t fight for us.” “I didn’t give you a reason to.” He looked down. Fingers flexing like he wanted to reach for you. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed to.

“You were everything to me,” he said, voice raw. “And I got so good at pretending I was fine without you… I almost believed it. Until I saw you bleeding in Bodhi’s arms. Until Kaerith called out and I felt it in my bones.” You swallowed. Hard. The silence stretched again. And then, slowly, carefully—you reached for his hand. He didn’t hesitate. Fingers locked. Palms pressed.

“You don’t have to fix it all today,” you said, voice quiet but steady. “But if we’re going to try again… we can’t pretend the cracks aren’t there.” “I know.” “We build slow this time.” Xaden nodded. “Even if it hurts.” You leaned forward. Pressed your forehead to his. And this time, you both stayed there. No one ran.

No one turned away.

⸻

Later that day

The quiet didn’t last. By the time you’d managed to walk down the hallway—Xaden shadowing every step—Bodhi was already waiting in the courtyard below. Leaning against the worn stone wall, arms crossed, his dragon, Cuir, perched high on the cliff behind him like a sentinel of old.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Didn’t even blink at the way Xaden hovered a step too close. “Still stubborn,” Bodhi muttered as you stepped into the sunlight, eyes sweeping over the bruises on your skin. “Still getting yourself nearly killed.” “Still dragging me out of it,” you returned softly. That earned the smallest of smiles. But it didn’t last. Because Xaden moved forward. And you felt it shift—like a ripple of old storms under calm water.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Xaden asked. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked with something sharp. Something ancient. “You knew where she was. For months.” Bodhi’s jaw tensed. “I did.” “You let me think she was gone.” “You let her think she was nothing but collateral.” The words landed like fists.

You inhaled slowly, ready to speak—but Bodhi raised a hand to stop you. His gaze stayed locked on Xaden.

“You want the truth?” Bodhi said, stepping away from the wall. “She was my best friend long before she was your girlfriend. I held her hair when she was sick. I taught her how to punch harder than you. I read every letter she wrote, even when she didn’t send them.” Xaden flinched.

“She didn’t leave just because of you,” Bodhi added. “She left because that place—Basgiath, war, everything—it was eating her alive. And I wasn’t going to drag her back just because you finally decided to miss her.” The silence that followed was brutal.

Xaden’s fists were clenched. His breathing ragged. But he didn’t argue. Because he couldn’t. You stepped forward, putting a hand on Bodhi’s arm. “Thank you,” you said quietly. His expression softened just a little. “I’d do it again.”

Xaden finally spoke, voice low, broken at the edges. “You should’ve told me.” Bodhi shrugged. “Maybe. But then again, maybe you should’ve looked closer when she stopped smiling.” Another hit. Direct. And earned. Xaden didn’t respond. But he nodded. Slow.

And for the first time… something passed between them. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But understanding. Mutual grief. Shared weight.

“Next time,” Bodhi said, backing away toward Cuir, “don’t wait until she’s bleeding to remember how much you love her.” And then he was gone.

The wind shifted. And you stood there with Xaden—both of you raw, scraped open, stripped down to nothing but truth and tension and too many things left unsaid. But this?

This was how healing started.

⸻

The sun was low by the time you returned to your room. The walk back was slow. Silent. Xaden didn’t reach for your hand, but his presence was a constant hum beside you—warm and steady, like a pulse that refused to fade.

You closed the door behind you with a soft click. And still, he didn’t speak. Not until you turned toward him, eyes searching his face like you might find something you’d missed the first time you fell in love with him.

“What are you thinking?” you asked softly. Xaden’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a wince of truth. “That I don’t deserve this.” Your breath hitched. “Me?” “You,” he said. “This chance. Your trust. After everything I didn’t say. Everything I let happen.”

You walked toward him, slow and quiet. “Do you want it?” His eyes lifted—sharp, dark, wounded. “More than anything.” “Then earn it.”

You were close now. Close enough to see the way his shoulders shifted, to hear the subtle catch in his breath. He looked like a man standing in a fire, unsure whether to run or reach for the warmth.

“I don’t want the version of you who shuts down,” you said, voice low. “Not the one who hides things ‘for your own good.’ I want the version who looks me in the eye and lets me in. Even if it’s ugly.”

Xaden looked down at his hands. “I don’t know if I remember how.” “You don’t have to know yet,” you whispered, fingers brushing his. “You just have to try.” He met your gaze then, and something cracked open behind his eyes. Not pain. Not guilt. Hope.

He took your hand—slow, deliberate. “I can’t promise I’ll be easy,” he said. “Or perfect.” “I never asked for perfect,” you replied. “I asked for you.” He stepped closer. Pressed his forehead to yours. His voice was rough, full of truth. “Tell me what you need.” And you didn’t hesitate. “I need you to be here. Really here. Not just when I’m hurt. Not just when you’re scared you’ve lost me. But when I’m healing. When I’m angry. When I’m quiet.” “I can do that,” he said. “Gods, I want to do that.”

You leaned into him, heart thudding against his chest. “Then stay. Not because you owe me. But because you still choose me.” His arms wrapped around you—gentle, but sure. And you felt it, in the weight of his touch, in the way his breath slowed against your skin. He wasn’t running. Not anymore.

And maybe that was enough.

[breezyblossoms]

You never expected to love someone like Xaden Riorson.

Not because he wasn’t worthy of love—no, gods, he was. More than most. Fierce and loyal, intelligent and powerful. He moved like shadows and storms, spoke like a man carrying the weight of too many ghosts. He was intimidating, magnetic, and untouchable. And yet, somehow, your heart didn’t find him through fear, or longing, or loneliness. It found him because he saw you.

He didn’t meet you and try to fix you. He didn’t reach for you out of pity, or obligation, or convenience. Xaden chose you, again and again, quietly, fiercely—like war choosing a weapon. And when you gave him your heart, he held it like it was sacred.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because I needed someone,” you whisper one night, when it’s just the two of you lying beneath a sky split with stars and silence. His arm is wrapped around your waist, calloused fingers tracing idle lines against your ribs.

“I know,” he murmurs. His voice is low, graveled, reverent. “You fell in love with me despite everything.”

You smile into his chest, fingers brushing the scar that cuts across his skin—a story he once told you with more vulnerability than he shared with most. “I fell in love with you because you make me feel like I belong somewhere.”

His grip tightens just slightly, protective, grounding. “You do belong. With me.”

And it’s that simple.

No games. No proving. Just mutual, unwavering gravity. A love that doesn’t take, but gives. A love that feels like finally breathing in a place you didn’t know you’d been holding your breath.

You didn’t fall in love because you were lonely.

You fell in love because when Xaden Riorson looks at you—really looks at you—you feel like the only person in the world who’s ever truly been seen.

And gods help anyone who tries to take that from you.

⸻

You shift slightly against his chest, your fingers tracing the edge of his scars like you’re memorizing them—every line, every story. He doesn’t flinch. He never does with you.

“You’re not easy to love, you know,” you whisper, not to wound him, but because he needs to hear the truth sometimes. The real kind. The kind that doesn’t sugarcoat.

He huffs a laugh, low and rough. “No shit.”

“But I never wanted easy,” you continue, lifting your head to meet his gaze in the dark. “I wanted real. And that’s what you are, Xaden. Raw and unrelenting and real.”

There’s a flicker in his eyes, like he’s not sure what to do with the gentleness you offer him. Like he’s still learning how to hold it without breaking it. But he tries. For you, he always tries.

“I didn’t think anyone could love me the way you do,” he admits quietly, like the words cost him something. “Not with everything I’ve done. Everything I still have to do.”

“I don’t love you in spite of those things,” you say, brushing a strand of dark hair from his forehead. “I love you because I know them. Because I know you. And you never make me feel like I have to earn your love in return.”

He sits up a little, just enough to press his forehead to yours. The stars spill silver light over his face, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the quiet ache in his expression.

“You don’t have to earn anything, viessa.” His voice is barely a breath. “You already have all of me.”

And gods, when he says it like that—so certain, so sure—it settles in your bones like truth. You know he means it. You can feel it in the way he holds you, not like you’re fragile, but like you’re everything.

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, Riorson.”

He smiles. Not the smirk he gives the world, the one laced with sarcasm and charm and sharp edges. No, this one’s softer. Warmer. A smile only you ever get to see.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tucking you back against his chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And as the wind rustles the trees beyond your campfire, and the distant breath of dragons echoes in the night, you know something with absolute clarity:

You didn’t fall in love with Xaden Riorson because you were looking for love. You fell because something in his soul called out to yours—and yours answered like it had been waiting for him all along.

⸻

Flashback: Second Year at Basgiath

It’s late.

The kind of late where the halls are empty, the lanterns flicker low, and the only sound is your breathing as you wrap your injured hand in a strip of cloth that’s already soaked through with blood. You should’ve gone to the med ward.

You should have.

But the sting of failure still burns deeper than the open wound—because you’d gone toe-to-toe with another rider in sparring, one of Weren’s squad, and lost focus. One slip. One misstep. One sharp blade through your palm. And you hadn’t wanted to be seen like this. Vulnerable. Angry. Bleeding.

So instead, you slipped away, sat alone in a darkened corridor tucked between the training rings and the barracks, and tried to fix it yourself.

“You’re shit at bandaging,” a deep voice drawls. You flinch. Your head snaps up just as Xaden Riorson steps out of the shadows, arms crossed, eyes unreadable—but focused entirely on you.

“Thanks for the input,” you mutter, biting back your embarrassment. “Didn’t realize you were lurking in every hallway now.” He steps closer, kneels down in front of you. “I wasn’t lurking. I was watching the sparring matches.” “Then you saw me lose.”

He shrugs, like that part’s irrelevant. “I saw you get distracted. There’s a difference.”

You blink at him, surprised. “You think I was distracted?” “I know you were.” His eyes drop to your hand. “Let me see it.”

You hesitate.

This is Xaden. The Xaden who everyone either fears or follows. Who walks around like he doesn’t owe anyone anything and dares them to challenge him. The one with the weight of a rebellion on his shoulders and a death sentence carved into his back.

But still, somehow… you trust him.

You extend your hand. He takes it carefully, without a word. His touch is gentle—gentler than you expect—and he pulls a clean cloth from his pocket, one you hadn’t noticed. Dips it into a nearby water barrel. Begins wiping away the blood.

“I’ve seen worse,” he says quietly. “But it’ll scar.” “Doesn’t matter.” “It does.” His thumb brushes the edge of your hand, steadying it. “Every scar matters.”

You glance up, and your eyes meet. And that’s when it happens. That moment you start to fall.

Not because he’s handsome—though he is. Not because he’s strong—though he’s that too. But because of the way he’s looking at you.

Like you’re not a soldier to command. Not a name on a roster. Not a piece of strategy. Like you’re a person. Someone worth noticing. Worth seeing.

He finishes the bandage with a final, practiced tug and knot, then holds your hand just a moment longer. “You fight harder than anyone I’ve seen,” he says. “Just don’t forget to fight for yourself, too.” You nod, a little stunned. “Thanks.”

He stands. Looks down at you with something unreadable in his eyes. “Next time, don’t hide. Come find me.” And then he’s gone.

You sit there in silence, staring at the place where he’d been kneeling, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your skin.

You hadn’t been looking for anyone. You hadn’t needed to be saved. But in that moment, you felt seen. And that—that—was the beginning. You didn’t realize it then, not fully. But that was the first time your heart whispered, him.

⸻

Y/N – A Few Weeks Later

You tried not to think about that night. You told yourself it meant nothing—just a moment of decency. A rare flash of kindness from the brooding, too-sharp-for-his-own-good squad leader who usually acted like the entire world was a burden on his shoulders. But it stuck with you.

The way he’d looked at you—really looked at you. Like you were more than a body built to fight and survive. Like you mattered beyond your stats and your signet.

And now, you feel it in every passing glance across the sparring mats. Every time your name is called and his gaze lingers. Every time he watches you—not critically, but like he’s measuring something.

You train harder. Fight better. Talk less. You try to shake him from your thoughts like a bad habit. Because you know what it means to get attached in this place. People die. Bonds break.

And Xaden Riorson? He’s not safe. He’s not simple. He’s not the kind of boy girls fall in love with and live to tell the story.

But still…

You hear his voice in your head when you fight—don’t forget to fight for yourself, too.

And every time he passes you in the hall and nods just barely in your direction, like you share some unspoken secret, you feel it again:

You didn’t mean to fall. But gods, it’s already too late.

⸻

Xaden – His Moment

He notices you before you ever notice him. Not in the way others do—he’s not watching your stats or the way your dragon circles above the watchtower like she owns the sky. He notices the way you move. The way you carry silence like armor and sharpen your words like blades.

He notices you when you choose not to speak, even when you could. When you stay after training to help clean up shattered weapons no one else bothers with. When you’re the only one who doesn’t flinch when he walks into a room. And then, the night of your injury, when you’re sitting there—bleeding and alone and refusing to go to the med ward—he sees something that punches straight through the steel cage he keeps around his heart.

You’re just like him.

Stubborn. Guarded. Wounded in places no one else sees. But you don’t ask for anything. Not attention. Not help. Not even recognition. And that’s what gets him. Because most people want something from him. Fear. Favor. Power. But you? You just want to stand on your own.

And after that night, he starts watching closer. He notices how you always take the hardest path just to prove you can. How you hide your exhaustion under layers of sarcasm. How your eyes burn with something wild and defiant—something that looks an awful lot like survival.

And for the first time in a long time, Xaden Riorson starts wondering if maybe… just maybe…

You’re his exception.

He doesn’t let himself feel it—not all at once. That would be dangerous. But it grows. In the way his breath hitches when you smile at someone else. In the way his tone softens when he says your name.

In the way his heart beats harder every time he sees you walk away—because some deep, desperate part of him already knows: he’ll chase you if you go.

⸻

Weeks Later

The tension between you and Xaden becomes a quiet thing. It hums in the spaces between words. In every brush of his shoulder when you pass in the hallway. In the way his eyes linger just a second too long during briefings, like he’s memorizing you without realizing it.

He doesn’t touch you—not really. But his presence always settles too close. Always one step from brushing your hand when you walk side by side, always one breath from something more.

And you feel it—gods, you feel it—in the pit of your stomach every time he says your name in that low, rough voice, or when he looks at you from across the sparring ring, jaw tight, gaze unreadable.

There’s a moment one night, when you’re walking back from a late patrol. The skies are cloudy, the path dim, and the air thick with coming rain. You’re both quiet, breathing the same air but pretending it doesn’t mean anything.

Then, without thinking, you reach for his arm when your foot slips on the gravel. His hand snaps out to catch you. Warm fingers wrap around your wrist—firm, steady, gentle. And for a heartbeat, neither of you moves.

You’re standing too close. You feel it in the air—charged, tense, hungry.

Xaden’s eyes drop to your lips. Just for a second. Your breath stutters.

But then… he lets go.

“We should keep moving,” he says quietly.

And you hate how much you miss his hand the second it’s gone.

⸻

The Collision

It happens during a storm. The rain lashes the training grounds, and most cadets have retreated inside. But you—you needed the chaos. You needed to feel something real. So you’re outside, soaked to the bone, fists flying in a sparring match that’s long past over.

Until Xaden finds you.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he snaps, striding into the rain like it’s nothing.

You throw another punch, ignoring the way your body aches. “What do you care?” “I care,” he growls, grabbing your arm mid-swing. “More than I should.”

You freeze. His grip is tight. Not hurting—but solid. Like he’s grounding you. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Skipping meals. Sleeping in the archives. What the hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“I’m surviving,” you hiss, yanking your arm free. “Same as you.” “No.” He steps closer. “I’m watching you disappear and pretending like it doesn’t gut me every time.”

His chest is rising and falling hard. So is yours. Rain drips from his hair. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are fire.

“You don’t get to say that,” you whisper. “Not when you keep pretending this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”

“I’m done pretending.” He takes your face in his hands—tentative at first, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away.

You don’t.

He kisses you like he’s been holding back for years. It’s fierce. Desperate. Messy with rain and the ache of every moment you almost kissed and didn’t. And when you finally break apart, both of you breathless and shaking, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to fall,” he says, voice raw. “I already have.”

[breezyblossoms]

Note: Sorry for another long one! An idea came to mind and I just rolled with it, not even sure if it makes sense. Hope y’all understand and enjoy it!! 🫶🏼

SPOILERS

The first time Xaden saw Y/N, she was standing at the edge of the sparring ring, wiping blood from her split lip with the back of her hand. She wasn’t like the other cadets—wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze, wasn’t afraid to fight like hell for what was hers.And gods, did she fight.

It started as rivalry.

Turned into something more.

She was reckless. Hot-headed. Stubborn as hell.

Xaden was all sharp edges, all carefully controlled chaos, and Y/N—she was wildfire.

They pushed each other. Trained until their bodies ached, until their dragons—his Sagyel, her’s fierce, dark-scaled beast named Zephra—growled their impatience.

And maybe it was inevitable, the way it happened—the stolen glances across the battlefield, the way his name sounded like something different when she said it, the tension that sparked between them like a storm waiting to break.

But they were young, and they were cadets, and neither of them was willing to admit that what they had was something worth losing for.

So they didn’t. Not yet.

By the time they were third-years, Xaden was already a leader. Already carrying the weight of a rebellion, a war, a world that demanded too much. Y/N was right there beside him.

Until, suddenly, she wasn’t.

She had been sent out on a mission—a classified task that even Xaden hadn’t been given the details of.

Weeks passed.

Then months.

And when she finally returned, something about her was different. She didn’t meet his gaze like she used to. Didn’t challenge him with that sharp tongue of hers. And when he reached for her—she flinched.

It drove him insane.

She was his—had always been his, whether she knew it or not. And yet, when he saw her standing in the training yard one night, her arms crossed tight around herself, eyes distant—he realized he wasn’t sure if he even had her anymore.

So he did what he always did. He pushed.

“Talk to me.” Y/N exhaled, shaking her head “There’s nothing to say.” Xaden clenched his jaw. “That’s bullshit.” She laughed, but it was hollow. “Is it?” He stepped closer, voice low. “Tell me what happened.”

For a moment, she didn’t answer.

Then—“What’s the point, Xaden?” Her voice cracked, and it shattered something in him. “The point,” he murmured, stepping closer, “is that you don’t get to shut me out. Not after everything.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “And what if I’m not the same?” Xaden’s chest ached, but he didn’t waver. “I don’t care,” he said softly.

Y/N’s breath hitched. He reached for her then—slowly, carefully, giving her the space to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, when his fingers brushed her cheek, she closed her eyes, exhaling shakily.

And Xaden—gods, he wanted to tell her that no matter what war had taken from her, she was still his. That she had always been his. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. Because she was his, and he was hers, and that was the only truth that had ever mattered.

Xaden didn’t know what scared him more—the war they were fighting outside, or the one happening inside of her.

Y/N had always been fire. Uncontrollable, unpredictable, untouchable.

Now, she was smoke. Fading. Slipping through his fingers. And he was tired of chasing something he already knew belonged to him.

She was on Zephra when he found her.

The flight field was quiet, save for the rustling of wings and the occasional huff from the dragons. Xaden leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his dark gaze locked onto her.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” Y/N froze, her hands stilling against Zephra. “I wasn’t leaving,” she muttered, though even she didn’t sound convinced. Xaden arched a brow. “Really? Because it sure as hell looks like you were about to disappear again.”

She didn’t answer. Because they both knew the truth. She had thought about it. Leaving. Running. Escaping whatever this thing was between them before it destroyed them both. But she should have known better.

Xaden Riorson never let go of what was his.

He stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Tell me why, Y/N.” She let out a shaky breath, fingers gripping Zephra like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “Because I don’t know how to be here anymore.” His throat tightened. “Bullshit.”

Her eyes snapped to his, anger flickering beneath the surface. “You think this is easy for me? Xaden’s jaw clenched. “I think you’re making it harder than it has to be.”

She scoffed. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I understand that you’ve been gone for months. That you came back looking like a ghost of the girl I knew. That I’ve spent every damn day trying to figure out how to bring you back, and all you’ve done is push me away.”

Her breath hitched. He took another step. “So tell me, Y/N—what the hell happened out there?”

Silence.

Then, finally—“I was captured.”

The words hit him like a blade to the gut. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just waited.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t remember all of it. Just flashes. Pain. Screaming. And then…I got out. Somehow.”

Xaden’s fists clenched. “You should have told me.” She let out a broken laugh. “And what would you have done, Xaden? Killed them all? Started a war we can’t win?”

“Yes.”

The word was a vow. A promise. Because he would have burned the world down for her. And she knew it.

She looked up at him then, searching his face like she was trying to decide if she could still trust him. If she could still trust herself.

“You scare me,” she admitted.

His chest ached. “Why?”

“Because,” she whispered, “you make me want to stay.”

Xaden exhaled, stepping close enough that their bodies nearly touched. “Then stay.” Y/N swallowed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how.”

He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Then let me show you.” She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. And when she opened them, something in her had softened. Something in her had decided.

And Xaden—for the first time in months—felt like he could finally breathe.

Something was wrong with her. She felt it in the quiet moments—when the world stilled and all she had left was the pulse of something unfamiliar inside her veins.

A hunger. A power that shouldn’t exist. And worst of all—a connection to something she couldn’t name.

It happened the night after Xaden convinced her to stay. She woke up in a cold sweat, her body trembling, her breath ragged. Zephra stirred from her spot outside, a low growl rumbling through their bond. Something’s wrong.

Y/N’s hands curled into fists as she swung her legs over the bed, trying to steady herself. But the moment her bare feet touched the stone floor, she felt it—the pull. It was like something was calling to her, whispering from the shadows.

She stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the table for balance. Her reflection in the small mirror above it caught her eye, and her stomach twisted.

Her irises—normally deep, rich, full of fire—were red.

She blinked, shaking her head. No. No, it had to be a trick of the light. Had to be. But the unease slithered down her spine, sinking deep into her bones. Something was changing inside her. And she didn’t know how to stop it.

Xaden was the only person she trusted to help her. Even if she hated that fact. So when she found him the next morning, standing near the cliffs with his arms crossed, staring out at the horizon, she didn’t hesitate.

“I need to talk to you.”

Xaden turned, his dark gaze sweeping over her. “You look like shit.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “Feel like it too.” He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Come on.”

They walked in silence, moving through the twisting pathways of Basgiath until they reached a secluded part of the training grounds—far from anyone who could overhear.

Y/N didn’t know how to say it. So she just—showed him.

With a deep breath, she focused, summoning the strange energy that had been lurking inside her.

And just like that—the shadows twisted at her fingertips, writhing like living things.

Xaden went still. His eyes flicked from the darkness curling around her hands to her face. To her eyes.

And something inside him—something primal, something hidden—reacted.

Not with fear. Not with anger. But recognition.

Her stomach dropped.

“Xaden,” she whispered, stepping closer. “You knew.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Because the moment his own power flared—dark, consuming, ancient—she knew the truth. He was just like her.

And he had been all along.

Y/N’s breath hitched as the realization settled over her. Xaden wasn’t just keeping secrets.

He was one.

The shadows at his fingertips flickered, twisting around his wrists like living ink before dissipating into the air. He exhaled slowly, watching her carefully, as if waiting for her to run.

But she didn’t.

Because even with the sharp ache of betrayal curling in her chest, even with the war waging in her mind—she didn’t fear him. No. She feared what it meant that he had hidden this from her.

“How long?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but Xaden flinched like she had struck him. “How long have you been like this?” His jaw clenched. “For a couple of months now.”

The words shouldn’t have surprised her. But they did. Because it meant that all this time—all the nights they spent together, all the battles they fought side by side—he had been carrying this secret. Carrying this curse. And never once had he told her.

Her stomach twisted. “You lied to me.”

“I protected you.”

She laughed, but it was hollow. “From what? From you?”

Silence. And that was answer enough.

Y/N took a shaky step back, suddenly needing distance. Xaden’s gaze darkened. “Don’t.” She ignored him. “You knew this whole time, and you said nothing?” Her hands trembled as she dragged them through her hair. “Gods, Xaden—I thought I was losing my mind.”

His expression hardened. “You think I wanted this for you?” “I think you didn’t give me a choice.”

That shut him up. Because they both knew it was true. He had let her walk blindly with this, knowing what she had become, knowing what it was cost her. And still, he had said nothing.

She let out a sharp breath, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

“I can’t do this.”

Xaden stiffened. “Y/N—” She turned away. “I need time.”

But they both knew the truth. Time wasn’t going to fix this. And when she walked away, Xaden didn’t try to stop her. Because for the first time in his life—he didn’t know if he had the right to.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she was as far from him as she could get. Until the air felt lighter. Until she could breathe again without the weight of his lies pressing down on her chest. But no matter how far she went, she couldn’t outrun the truth.

She was changing. Becoming something she didn’t understand. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to be. And Xaden had known. Had watched her unravel, watched her break, and let her think she was losing herself—when in reality, she had only ever been finding him.

Zephra stirred as Y/N approached, sensing the storm raging inside her.

Talk to me, the dragon murmured through their bond. Y/N swallowed hard. “I don’t even know where to start.”

The wind howled through the training yard, the sky darkening as storm clouds gathered above. It felt fitting. Because everything inside her was a storm too. Fury. Fear. The aching, unbearable grief of a truth she couldn’t take back.

He didn’t tell you. It wasn’t a question.

Y/N huffed out a bitter laugh, resting her forehead against Zephra’s warm scales. “No. He didn’t.”

The dragon exhaled, a deep, rumbling sound. And yet, you still care. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. That was the worst part. Because even now, even after everything, some part of her still ached for him. Some part of her still wanted to run back and demand answers, to demand why. But she wouldn’t. Because she had already spent too long being someone’s afterthought. She wasn’t going to let herself be his secret too.

Xaden found her first. Of course he did. She felt him before she saw him—the shift in the air, the faint whisper of his power curling at the edges of her senses.

She should have ignored him. Should have turned away, forced him to let her go. But when she turned, the words died in her throat. Because he looked—wrecked.

Dark circles lined his eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. Like the weight of his secrets had finally become too much to bear.

“I know you hate me,” he said.

Y/N stiffened. “I don’t hate you.”

Xaden exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. Because I don’t know who I’m looking at anymore. But she didn’t say that.

Instead, she just shook her head. “I can’t do this, Xaden.” His expression twisted, something raw flashing across his face. “So that’s it? You’re just walking away?” Y/N let out a breathless laugh, but there was nothing funny about it.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she murmured. “That’s what you did to me.” Xaden flinched. Good. She wanted him to feel this. Wanted him to feel what she felt—like the ground had been ripped out from under her. Like everything she thought she knew had been a lie.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “I was trying to protect you.” Y/N’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t get to decide what I need protecting from.”

Silence stretched between them. A thousand things unsaid. A thousand wounds that couldn’t be undone. But then Xaden stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “I should have told you.” Y/N swallowed hard. Because he meant it. But that didn’t erase what he had done. What he had kept from her.

“I don’t know how to forgive you for this,” she admitted. Xaden’s jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. Like he wanted to pull her close and never let go. “I’ll wait,” he said softly.

And gods help her—she almost believed him.

Xaden was waiting for her. And that was the problem. Because every time Y/N closed her eyes, she saw the shadows curling at his fingertips. Every time she took a breath, she felt the same darkness stirring in her own veins.

She couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape him. And maybe that was the cruelest part of all—because even now, after everything, some deep, broken part of her still wanted to run back to him. Still wanted to believe he hadn’t destroyed everything between them. But belief wouldn’t change the truth. And truth was the one thing he had never given her.

She avoided him for days. It wasn’t easy—not when their dragons were restless, not when every part of her was still attuned to his presence. Not when she could feel him watching her. He didn’t push. Didn’t corner her like she half-expected him to. Instead, he gave her space. Which only made it worse. Because it meant he was waiting. Waiting for her to come back to him.But she wasn’t sure if she could.Wasn’t sure if she knew how.

It happened during training. She had been pushing herself too hard—sparring for hours, forcing herself to exhaustion so she wouldn’t have to think. So she wouldn’t have to feel.

She had been losing control for days. It started as a whisper beneath her skin, a slow-burning ache in her bones that never faded.

Then it became more.

A pulse of power that surged at the worst moments, her vision darkening at the edges, her body thrumming with something dangerous. Something she couldn’t contain.

And now, standing in the middle of the training field, her knees threatening to buckle, she knew she was out of time. The energy surged without warning. A violent, untamed force.

Her hands trembled as darkness curled around her fingers, thick and suffocating. The air crackled, the ground beneath her feet trembling as the power built higher—too much, too fast, too uncontrollable. Her veins burned.

And then—

Pain.

Sharp, excruciating pain lancing through her skull, down her spine.

Y/N gasped, clawing at her arms, at her chest—anywhere she could feel the inferno spreading. Her head snapped up, and that was when she saw them.

Bodhi. Garrick. Imogen.

All staring at her. All horrified. Because they could see it now. The deep, black veins that crawled across her skin, spreading like rot.

And when her vision blurred, when she blinked and her reflection caught on the blade of a discarded dagger—

She saw the red in her eyes.

“Venin,” Bodhi whispered, stepping back.

Y/N’s stomach lurched. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

But she could feel it. The power still thrummed beneath her skin, pulling, dragging, demanding. A force she couldn’t control.

Garrick cursed, his sword already drawn. “We have to put her down.”

“Wait—” Y/N gasped, reaching out—

But that was a mistake. Because her power responded to the desperation, surging forward like a flood. A wall of black shadows, alive and ravenous.

Bodhi moved first. His blade swung toward her throat. Y/N braced for impact—

But the strike never came.

Because Xaden was there.

His body crashed into hers, knocking her to the ground just as the blade swiped through empty air where her head had been.

Her breath left her in a sharp gasp, her vision swimming. But when she looked up—

She saw fury.

Xaden stood over her, his shadows curling violently at his feet, his expression unreadable.

But his voice—gods, his voice was something else entirely.

“Touch her again, and I will end you.”

Silence. The kind that choked. Bodhi and Garrick didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. Because they knew. Everyone knew.

Xaden never made empty threats.

Y/N’s heart pounded, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. But Xaden didn’t look at her. He didn’t dare. Because the moment he did, he would break. And gods help him—he had never been more afraid.

Because this wasn’t just losing her. This was watching her become something else entirely. Something that wasn’t her. And yet, even now—

She was still his.

Always had been. And he would burn the world before he let them take her from him.

Violet wasn’t supposed to hear. She had been passing through the courtyard when she caught the hushed, frantic voices of Bodhi and Garrick, their usual sharp tones strained with unease. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the way they spoke—urgent, low, like the words were too dangerous to say out loud—made her stop.

“…Her eyes, Garrick.” Bodhi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “They turned red.”

Violet froze. She didn’t know who they were talking about. Didn’t want to believe what they were talking about. But the moment Garrick cursed under his breath, running a tense hand through his hair, her stomach twisted.

“Xaden almost lost his damn mind,” he muttered. “He jumped in front of my blade for her. Protected her.” Violet’s breath caught.

“No,” Bodhi corrected, voice grim. “Chose her.”

She found Xaden in his quarters. She didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. Because she needed answers. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear them.

Xaden was sitting at his desk, hunched over a map, but the moment she entered, his shoulders tensed.

“Violet,” he greeted, his voice controlled. Careful. Too careful. She knew that tone. Knew when he was keeping something from her. So she didn’t waste time.

“I heard Bodhi and Garrick,” she said. “About Y/N.” Xaden stilled. His fingers twitched, barely perceptible—but she saw it.

“Did you?” His voice was unreadable.

Violet nodded, stepping closer. “They said her eyes turned red.” Silence.

Then—

“That’s ridiculous.” His words were smooth, practiced. “You know how they are. Exaggerating shit, making everything sound worse than it is.”

It should have been reassuring. It wasn’t. Because Xaden didn’t lie to her. He omitted, he deflected, but he never outright lied.

Until now.

Violet narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?” Xaden met her gaze without flinching. “Yes.” But his shadows curled tighter at his feet. And Violet suddenly wasn’t sure what scared her more—

The lie itself.

Or the way he looked when he said it.

Y/N had learned to read Xaden Riorson in ways few could. She knew when he was angry, even when his expression was calm. Knew when he was planning something reckless, when his mind was already three steps ahead of everyone else. And she knew when he was hiding something.

He had been tense ever since the training yard. Silent. Distant. But when she stepped into his room that night, his back to her, shoulders hunched—

She knew.

Knew that whatever was going through his mind was about her.

“Xaden,” she said cautiously. He didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her right away.

Then—“You should be resting.”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “Not when my own damn friends nearly killed me today.” Xaden flinched. It was small—barely noticeable. But she saw it. And she knew.

“You told them not to say anything, didn’t you?” Her voice was quieter now. “You made them keep it from Violet.” His jaw clenched. She took a step closer. “Why?”

Xaden finally turned to face her then, his expression guarded. But his eyes—gods, his eyes were burning. Because this wasn’t just about protecting her. This was about choosing her. And suddenly, Y/N understood why he hadn’t let them kill her. Why he had stepped between her and Garrick’s blade. Because no matter how much he tried to fight it, no matter how many times he let his shadows pull him away—

He was hers.

And he always had been.

Xaden had never been afraid of war. Never been afraid of blood, of battle, of the weight of a blade in his hands.

But this? This terrified him. Because Y/N was changing. Because he was losing her. And the worst part? She knew it, too.

Y/N stared at him, waiting. Waiting for him to admit it. Waiting for him to say what they both knew to be true.

But he didn’t. Because saying it would make it real. And if it was real—then there was no turning back.

“You’re lying to her,” she said finally. “To Violet.” Xaden exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m protecting you.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?” His gaze snapped to hers.

And for the first time in a long time, she saw it. Not just the frustration. Not just the guilt. But fear.

For her.

For what she was becoming. For what he’d do to protect her. Even if it meant lying to everyone else.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said quietly. She swallowed hard. “Don’t I?”

Violet wasn’t blind. She had seen the way Xaden reacted when Y/N was around. The way his shadows curled tighter, the way his body tensed—not with irritation, not with anger.

But with something else. Something she wasn’t supposed to notice. And yet, here she was. Noticing. Dreading. Wondering just how deep this ran. She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know. Because if she did—if she confronted it— She might not like the answer.

But gods, she had to know. Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure if Xaden’s loyalty belonged to her. And that? That was more terrifying than anything else.

Xaden had made a mistake. He had been careful. Had kept Y/N at arm’s length, had buried everything beneath layers of responsibility and war and duty. But Violet saw it anyway.

And when she finally confronted him, her voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Dangerous.

“Tell me the truth, Xaden.” Her voice was steady, but barely. Xaden exhaled slowly, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “There is no truth to tell.”

A lie.

A blatant, unforgivable lie. And from the way Violet’s lips pressed together, she knew it.

“You think I don’t notice how you are with her?” she asked, tilting her head. “How you look at her? How your shadows react to her?”

Xaden stayed silent. Because what was he supposed to say? That she was right? That no matter how much he fought it, no matter how much he tried to bury it beneath duty and war—he had never been able to let Y/N go? That, even now, when he was supposed to be standing beside Violet, leading a rebellion, protecting everything they’d fought for—

His first instinct had still been to save her?

Violet’s throat bobbed. “You chose her, didn’t you?” Xaden’s heart slammed against his ribs. Because he wanted to deny it. Wanted to say that wasn’t true. That Violet was the only one who mattered. But the problem was—

He couldn’t. Not anymore. Because they both knew the answer. And that? That was the real betrayal.

Y/N should have left. Should have disappeared before this got worse. But she hadn’t. Because no matter how much she told herself she didn’t care, that she had no claim over Xaden, that he had chosen Violet—

She still couldn’t walk away. And that? That was her greatest mistake. Because now she was here.

Standing outside Xaden’s room, her back pressed against the wall, listening as everything fell apart.

And it was because of her. Because she had come back. Because she had let him save her. Because she had let herself believe—even if only for a moment—that she still mattered to him.

Her fists clenched at her sides. This was a mistake. She was a mistake. And gods, she wasn’t going to make it worse. So she turned— And walked away. Because Xaden might not have been able to make a choice. But she could. And she would. Even if it destroyed her in the process.

Xaden felt her leave. Felt it. Like a shadow ripped from his soul. Like an ache he had no right to feel, but felt anyway.

Violet was still in front of him, waiting, watching. But he wasn’t there anymore. His mind was already chasing Y/N, his shadows screaming at him to go after her, to not let her go, to do anything but stand here like a coward. But what choice did he have? Because if he followed—if he ran after her, if he let himself do what every part of him demanded—

It would mean everything Violet had feared was true. That no matter how much he had tried to fight it— No matter how much he had tried to convince himself otherwise— Y/N had never been just another person in his life. She had been the person.

And he had spent years lying to himself about it. But not anymore. Not when she was walking away. Not when he knew, deep down, that if he let her go now—

He would never get her back.

Xaden had spent years hiding what he was. Years pretending his power was just shadows. That he had control. That he was not like them. That he could keep it buried. That he could keep her safe.

But the moment Y/N walked away—

The moment he felt that unbearable loss tear through him—

That was the moment he lost control. Because if she was gone? If she was truly leaving him? Then what the fuck was the point of pretending anymore?

Y/N moved quickly, forcing herself to keep walking, to keep her heart locked up in her chest before it could shatter completely. She should have known better. She should have never let herself believe.

Because this was who Xaden was.

A leader. A liar. A man who carried too much on his shoulders to ever truly belong to someone else.

He had never been hers. And gods, maybe he never would be. The air shifted. The shadows around her twisted, darkening, curling in unnatural ways. A shiver ran down her spine. She knew those shadows.

She knew him.

But this—this was different.The air felt heavy, suffocating. Like something was wrong. And then she heard it.

His voice.

Low. Broken.

“Don’t go.”

Y/N turned. And what she saw stole the breath from her lungs. Because Xaden Riorson was standing at the edge of the hall, his entire body tense—but it wasn’t just him. It was his power. Unleashed. His shadows weren’t just moving. They were alive. Dark veins climbed up his forearms, pulsing like they were filled with something more than blood. His normally sharp eyes were too dark, too hungry, too wrong. And she knew.

Oh gods, she knew.

“Xaden,” she whispered, her heart hammering. He took a step forward. She took a step back. His jaw clenched.

“Please.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do this.” But Y/N couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Because this was the truth, wasn’t it? The secret buried beneath all of Xaden’s carefully constructed lies. The reason he had always known exactly what she was becoming.

Because he had become it, too.

Because Xaden Riorson— The leader of the rebellion. The man who stood against everything the kingdom feared. The man she had loved and lost and tried to let go—

He was Venin.

And he had been hiding it all along.

Xaden saw the way she looked at him. Saw the fear. The betrayal. And it fucking gutted him. Because this—this was why he had never told her. Not because he didn’t trust her. But because he couldn’t bear to lose her. Because once she knew, once she saw what he truly was—

She would never look at him the same way again. And now? Now she knew.

“Say something,” he rasped. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

And then—she ran.

Xaden didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

He chased.

Because if she left, if she walked away from him now— He wouldn’t just lose her. He would lose himself. And gods help him, but he wasn’t ready for that.

She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—her body just moved. Because this wasn’t him. This wasn’t the Xaden she had known, the Xaden she had loved. This was something else. Something darker. Something wrong. And every instinct inside her screamed run.

But Xaden was faster.

Shadows lashed out, coiling around the hallway, sealing off escape routes before she could reach them.

Her heart pounded. She wasn’t stupid—she knew she wouldn’t outrun him. Not when his power was unleashed. Not when he was hunting her. And gods, that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

A hunt.

“Y/N.” His voice—low, rough, desperate. She clenched her jaw, refusing to turn around. She wouldn’t stop. Not until she was far, far away from him.

But the moment she turned a corner, he was there. Standing in her path. His chest was rising and falling like he’d been running, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t needed to. Because Xaden Riorson was a predator. And she was trapped.

“Let me go,” Y/N demanded, forcing steel into her voice. Xaden’s dark eyes flashed. “No.” Her hands curled into fists.

“Xaden, I swear to the gods—” “What?” he cut her off, voice sharp. “You’ll fight me? You’ll run?” He took a step closer. “We both know you won’t win.”

Her throat tightened. He was right. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. Because what other choice did she have? She couldn’t trust him. Not anymore. But then—then he broke.

The shadows around him flickered, his entire body collapsing in on itself like he was caving under the weight of what he was. Like he was breaking before her eyes.

“Please,” he rasped. “Don’t do this.” Y/N’s breath caught. Because it wasn’t just pleading. It was desperation. Raw, aching, ruined desperation. Like if she walked away now—she wouldn’t be the only one who was lost. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand tall.

“I can’t—” her voice cracked, but she forced it out. “I can’t be around you like this, Xaden.”

His jaw clenched.

“I know.” And fuck, that was the worst part, wasn’t it? That he knew exactly why she couldn’t stay. And yet—

He still wouldn’t let her go.

“Tell me why,” Xaden whispered. Y/N blinked. “Why what?” His shadows curled around his fingers, twisting, moving like they were alive. “Why you’re running.” She let out a bitter laugh.

“Are you serious? Xaden, you’re—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.” Xaden flinched.

Because he had. He had spent months pretending he wasn’t this. That he wasn’t the very thing they were supposed to be fighting against.

And yet—

He had still chosen her. He had still let himself want her, love her, break for her. Even when he knew he shouldn’t.

And now? Now, when she was standing there, looking at him, like he was something unrecognizable? He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not to this.

So Xaden did the only thing he could. He let the shadows pull back. Let his magic dull. Let himself be just a man again. A man who had lost everything. And was about to lose the only thing that mattered.

“Please,” he whispered, voice barely audible. But Y/N’s expression didn’t change. And then—she turned. She turned, and she walked away.

And Xaden? Xaden let her. Even though it ruined him.

Y/N’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She barely made it outside before her knees buckled beneath her. Her breathing was too fast, her heart pounding as though it was trying to break free from her ribs.

She pressed her hands against the stone wall of the courtyard, willing herself to stay upright, to push away the image of him. Of Xaden. Of his shadows—his power—unleashed and raw and so terribly familiar. Because she knew what it meant. Because she wasn’t stupid. Because she had spent months trying to ignore the truth—her own truth. That she was no better. That she was becoming the same thing she feared.

Venin.

So why had she run? Why had she looked at Xaden like he was something else, something terrible, something to be feared—when she was no different?

Because she had spent every moment since the first time her veins had turned black convincing herself it wasn’t real. That she could fight it. That she wasn’t like them. That she was still Y/N. Still the girl who had bled for her people. Still the girl who had dreamed of something more than war. Still the girl who had looked at Xaden Riorson and thought—maybe, just maybe, he could love her back.

But if he was Venin?

Then everything unraveled. Then she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Then she had to face the truth— That maybe she had never been fighting her own darkness. Maybe she had just been delaying the inevitable.

Xaden stood where she had left him. Still. Silent. His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body shaking with the weight of it all. She had looked at him like he was a monster. Like he was beyond saving. And maybe he was. Maybe he had always been. But not to her. Never to her. Until now. Until she ran. Until she made him feel like everything between them had been a lie. And gods, he couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t take knowing that she thought she was any better. That she believed she had the right to judge him when her own veins had turned black, too.

When she was fighting the same damn thing he had been fighting for months. Xaden turned sharply, shadows slamming into the walls as he stormed out of the hall. He needed to find her. Because if she thought she could just walk away from him? She was dead fucking wrong.

Y/N had barely pulled herself together when the air shifted. The shadows moved—his shadows. And then—

He was there. Xaden. Standing only a few feet away, his dark eyes burning with something dangerous. Something unforgiving. And this time, she didn’t run. This time, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Because maybe she had been lying to herself.

Maybe she had been denying everything. But she wouldn’t anymore. Not when he was looking at her like that.Not when he knew. And fuck—he knew.

His voice was low, rough, and edged with something that sounded like betrayal. “You’re afraid of me?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. “Xaden—” “No,” he snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to look at me like I’m the monster when you and I both know—” He broke off, his throat bobbing. And then, softer—more shattered.

“You and I both know it’s already inside you, too.” The words were a punch to the chest. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t deny it. Because he was right.

And Xaden? Xaden looked at her like he had been waiting for this moment. Like he had been waiting for her to finally see it. To see him.

“Say it,” he demanded. Y/N clenched her jaw.

“Say it, Y/N.” His voice cracked. “Say that you’re just as fucked as I am.” Her heart pounded. She wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong. Wanted to pretend for just a little longer that she wasn’t this. But she couldn’t.

So she whispered it instead.

“I’m just as fucked as you are.”

Xaden let out a shaky breath, his entire body sagging as if he had been holding himself together by sheer force of will. His eyes closed. And when they opened again, the fight had left them. Because now—there was no fight left at all. There was only them. Only this. Only what they had become. And gods help them—

They were Venin.

And there was no turning back.

[breezyblossoms]

Y/N wasn’t sure when she had started waiting for Xaden Riorson.

Maybe it had been back at Basgiath, when she first let him into her bed, knowing full well she’d never have his heart.

Maybe it had been after a battle, when he pulled her into his arms with shaking hands, holding on too tight-like he wasn’t sure if she’d still be there if he let go.

Maybe it had been always. And maybe that was the problem. Because Xaden never chose her. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

And yet, Y/N had let herself believe, stupidly, hopelessly believe, that one day, he would. That one day, he’d look at her and see more. But she saw the truth now.

Because he was looking at her. At Violet Sorrengail. And Gods help her, Y/N had never seen his eyes that soft before.

Her breath caught, something sharp and vicious tearing through her chest. Because she knew that look. She had dreamed of that look. But it had never been for her.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Because of course it was Violet. Violet, who had fought her way through Basgiath. Violet, who had tamed Xaden’s dragon’s mate, a dragon that should’ve never chosen her. Violet, who had done in months what Y/N had never been able to do.

She had his heart.

And Y/N…

Y/N had never even been close.

Her throat burned. Because this wasn’t just losing him. She had never had him to begin with. And that was the part that hurt the most.

Xaden turned then, his gaze flicking toward her, and for one awful, unbearable second, their eyes met. His expression shifted. Like he knew. Like he understood exactly what she was thinking. Like he felt guilt. But guilt wasn’t love. Guilt wasn’t choosing her.

And Y/N was done waiting for something that was never hers to begin with. So she forced her lips into something that might’ve been a smile-might’ve looked real if it weren’t for the way her heart was cracking, splintering, breaking apart piece by piece.

And then…

She turned and walked away. Because almost didn’t count. Not anymore.

⸻

Xaden noticed immediately.

The first time Y/N wasn’t there, wasn’t where she always was, he ignored it.

The second time, something cold curled in his stomach.

The third time, he knew. She was avoiding him.

And Xaden Riorson did not handle losing well. Especially not when he hadn’t even realized he was playing a game.

He caught glimpses of her, passing shadows, fleeting moments before she turned the corner, before she slipped away.

And he let her. For a while. Because Gods help him, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know why it felt like his chest was hollowing out every time he realized she wasn’t coming back. Didn’t know why her absence felt sharper than any blade, more suffocating than any battle wound.

Until the fourth time.

Until he saw her with someone else. She wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t even smiling. But she was trying.

And Xaden-stupid, oblivious, undeserving Xaden finally understood. It wasn’t just that she was avoiding him.

She was moving on.

And that, he realized, was unforgivable. Not because she didn’t deserve to. But because he should’ve never let her think she had to. Because Y/N had always been there. In the quiet moments, in the war-torn ones. In his bed, in his arms.

He had never needed to wonder where she would be. Until now. Until he fucked it all up.

And Xaden Riorson didn’t lose things he wasn’t willing to fight for.

So he found her.

Cornered her.

Late at night, when she was least expecting it. When she had finally stopped looking over her shoulder for him. Because she thought he wouldn’t come. Because he had given her every reason to believe that.

But she was wrong.

Xaden pressed a hand against the doorframe, blocking her escape as she turned to find him standing there, his expression raw, desperate, furious.

She froze. Her breath hitched.

And Xaden had to clench his fists to keep himself from reaching for her. Because Gods help him, he had never wanted anything more.

But Y/N…

Y/N only tilted her head, her voice flat when she said, “Move.”

Xaden let out a slow, measured breath. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Xaden-”

“You walked away,” he cut her off, his voice quiet, sharp. “And I let you.”

Her jaw clenched. “So what, now you’re here to fix your conscience?”

No. It had never been about guilt. It had always been about her. But she didn’t see that. Because he had never let her see it. Because he had let her believe she was temporary.

Xaden stepped closer, the air shifting between them.

“You think I didn’t notice?” His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous.

Because it wasn’t just noticing. It was feeling. Feeling her absence in every empty space she had left behind. Feeling the ache in his chest every time he looked for her and found nothing. Feeling like a fucking idiot for never realizing that she had been his before he even knew he had something to lose.

Y/N exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Don’t do this, Xaden.”

“Do what?” he murmured.

Her throat bobbed. “Make this harder than it has to be.”

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Hard?” He stepped even closer. “You think this is hard for you?”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t move back. Didn’t run. And that was the only thing that kept him fucking standing. Because she was still here. Still listening. Still his, even if she didn’t want to be.

Xaden swallowed hard, his voice dropping to something honest, something wrecked.

“I can’t lose you.”

She blinked.

Like she hadn’t expected the words. Like she didn’t believe them.

And that? That nearly killed him. Because fuck, she had spent all this time thinking she was something he could just let go.

Like she hadn’t been his every damn day. Like she wasn’t the thing that had kept him breathing, fighting, alive.

“I can’t lose you,” he said again, softer this time.

And Gods help him, it was the truest thing he had ever said.

Her breath shuddered. Her hands fisted at her sides.

And for a long, unbearable moment, she didn’t say a word. Didn’t tell him to leave. Didn’t tell him it was too late.

And Xaden, for the first time in his life, let himself hope.

Because Y/N had walked away.

But maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t ready to let him go either.

⸻

Y/N didn’t make it easy for him.

She didn’t fall into his arms. Didn’t sigh in relief and tell him she had been waiting for him all along.

Because that would have been a lie.

She had stopped waiting. Stopped hoping for something he had never been willing to give her.

And if he thought a few pretty words were enough to pull her back into his orbit…

He was wrong.

Xaden must have realized it too. Because the moment she narrowed her eyes, the moment she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up, his expression turned grim. Like he knew exactly what she was about to say. Like he knew she was going to make this hard.

And for once, finally, he didn’t run from it.

Y/N exhaled slowly, carefully.

“Prove it.”

Xaden’s jaw ticked. “I am.”

“No,” she said, voice sharp, cold. “You’re saying it. That’s not the same thing.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Then tell me how.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh.

“You want me to tell you how to love me?” she murmured, tilting her head. “That’s funny, Xaden. I thought love was supposed to be instinctual.”

His fingers curled into tight, shaking fists.

“Y/N- ”

“No,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to show up and say you can’t lose me after choosing her every single time.”

His lips parted-but he didn’t argue.

Because he couldn’t.

Because it was true.

And Gods help her, the silence was worse than any excuse he could have given her.

Because he knew. He had always known.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to stay standing when all she wanted to do was crumple.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t break for him again. But gods, he was making it hard.

“I need to know I’m not just an afterthought,” she said, her voice low, steady.

He lifted his head at that, his eyes flashing with something dark, something wrecked.

“You’ve never been an afterthought,” he said, his voice sharp, furious. “Not to me.”

Y/N’s chest ached. But she shook her head.

“Then prove it.”

And this time, he didn’t hesitate.

⸻

Xaden knew it was coming. Because Gods help him, she was right.

She had never been an afterthought. But the problem was, neither was Violet. Not with their dragons bonded for life. Not with their destinies tangled, whether they wanted it or not. Not with the war, with Basgiath, with everything.

But Y/N wasn’t going to be a second choice. Not anymore. And that meant he had to prove it.

Starting with Sgaeyl.

It wasn’t a secret that his dragon favored Y/N. Sgaeyl had always preferred her, had always sought her out over Violet, despite the bond between their dragons.

Xaden had always thought it was amusing.

But now-

Now, it wasn’t a game. Because Sgaeyl had chosen. And Xaden wasn’t sure what that meant for everything else. Y/N stood in the clearing, arms crossed as she watched him. Not angry. Not hopeful. Just waiting.

Sgaeyl’s head turned toward him. “Fix this,” she said in his mind. “Now.”

Xaden exhaled sharply. “You tell me how,” he muttered.

Sgaeyl let out a deep, considering hum. Then, she said, “I cannot break a bond that is not mine.”

Xaden stilled.

Because that, that was new. Y/N raised a brow. “Well?” Xaden let out a slow, careful breath.

“There’s only one way to prove it,” he admitted.

Her brows lifted. “And that is?”

Xaden swallowed. “Choose you over her.”

Y/N’s lips parted. And Xaden waited.

Because Gods help him, he was finally choosing. And this time, he prayed to every god that ever existed that he wasn’t too late.

⸻

Xaden Riorson had spent his entire life fighting for survival.

Fighting for power. For revenge. For a future that wasn’t dictated by the sins of his father. But he had never fought for love. Never had to.

Because until now, he had never been at risk of losing the one person he couldn’t live without.

And Y/N, Gods help him, was making damn sure he earned every second of her time.

The tension between Xaden and Violet was palpable.

It had been since the moment Sgaeyl had chosen Y/N over her. Not that Violet had ever been oblivious to it. She was smart. Too smart. She had noticed the way Sgaeyl sought Y/N out first. The way Xaden’s gaze always lingered on her. The way Y/N had started to disappear.

And now? Now, Violet wasn’t oblivious at all.

Xaden found her waiting for him outside the barracks, arms crossed, her expression cool, calculating.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” she said simply.

Xaden didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. Instead, he exhaled sharply. “But you did.”

She nodded. “I saw the way she looked at you.”

His stomach tightened.

“More importantly,” Violet continued, tilting her head. “I saw the way you looked at her.”

Xaden didn’t answer. Because there was nothing to deny.

She let out a slow breath. “This is going to make things… complicated.”

It already was. With their dragons bonded, their destinies were already tangled. But that wasn’t the same as love. And Violet knew it.

“Then we make it uncomplicated,” Xaden said, steady, certain.

Her lips parted slightly. Because they both knew what that meant. What that had to mean. They couldn’t be more than what they were. Couldn’t blur the lines. Couldn’t pretend their dragons’ bond was the same as their own. Because Xaden had made his choice. And it wasn’t her.

For a long moment, Violet was silent. Then, finally, she nodded. And Gods help him, Xaden felt it shift.

The last thread of uncertainty snapping.

Because for the first time, truly, fully, undeniably, he was free to fight for the person he should have been fighting for all along.

⸻

It wasn’t enough.

Not to prove himself. Not to undo the damage he had caused. Because Y/N wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t going to fall at his feet just because he had finally woken up. So she made him work for it.

She didn’t let him touch her. Didn’t let him fall into old habits. Didn’t let him have her until she was sure she had all of him. Because if he wanted her, really wanted her, it had to be all or nothing.

Xaden gritted his teeth when she dodged him for the fourth time in a week. He had done everything. Given her space. Let her set the pace. But fuck if he wasn’t losing his mind.

Because every time he caught a glimpse of her, every time her gaze locked with his across the training yard, every time she turned away before he could say something..

It felt like a slow, torturous death. So when he finally cornered her, again, she didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look apologetic.

Just calm. Waiting. Testing him.

Xaden exhaled slowly, measured.

“What else do you want from me?”

Y/N tilted her head. Unmoved. “I don’t want anything from you, Xaden.”

His chest tightened.

“Then why are you still here?” His voice was quiet, dangerous.

She smirked, but there was no warmth in it.

“I’m not. You’re the one chasing me, remember?”

His lips parted. Because fuck. She wasn’t wrong. He was chasing her. The way she used to chase him. And Gods help him, it was terrifying. Because for the first time, she held all the power. And he, the one who had spent his entire life controlling every possible outcome, was at her mercy.

“I know I fucked up,” he admitted, his voice rough, raw.

Her smirk faded.

“But I also know,” he continued, his eyes dark, intense, unrelenting, “that you’re still standing here. Which means a part of you wants to see if I’ll fight for you.”

She inhaled sharply. But she didn’t deny it. And Xaden knew. Knew she still wanted him. Knew this wasn’t about whether she had feelings for him. It was about whether he deserved them.

And Gods help him, he would spend the rest of his life proving that he did.

⸻

Xaden Riorson had always thought he understood pain.

The bite of a blade, the snap of broken ribs, the searing agony of dragon fire. But this, watching Y/N slip through his fingers, watching her smile at someone who wasn’t him, this was a different kind of torment.

Because she wasn’t his to lose. Not yet. And Gods help him, she was making him suffer for it.

He saw her again.

With him.

The first time, Xaden convinced himself it was nothing.

The second time, he clenched his fists but stayed quiet.

The third time? He barely stopped himself from snapping the bastard’s neck.

Y/N stood close to the other rider, too close. Her head tilted back as she laughed at something he said.

Not forced. Not polite.

Real.

Xaden felt something dark and ugly curl in his stomach. Something he had never had to experience before.

Jealousy.

Not the petty kind. The kind that ate away at his fucking soul. Because that used to be him. That used to be his space beside her. His words making her laugh. His gaze catching hers across the training yard, a secret flickering between them.

But now?

Now, he was nothing more than a spectator. And Gods help him, it was driving him insane.

Sgaeyl’s voice rumbled in his mind. “You could simply go to her.”

His jaw tightened. No. Not yet. Not until she was ready. Not until she was the one choosing him again. But Gods help him, if she didn’t stop smiling at that bastard soon, he was going to…

“You’re scowling.”

Xaden whipped around to find Violet watching him, arms crossed.

He exhaled sharply. “I’m aware.”

Violet smirked. “Not a fan of Y/N’s new friend?”

He shot her a glare.

She laughed. “Oh, relax. They’re not like that.”

Xaden stilled. “What?”

Violet arched a brow. “You really think she’s replaced you that easily?”

His throat felt tight. “I don’t know what to think.”

Violet sighed, shaking her head. “It’s platonic. You’d know that if you stopped sulking in the shadows and actually talked to her.”

Xaden gritted his teeth. “She’s the one avoiding me.”

“Is she?”

That fucking smirk. Violet had always been too perceptive for her own good. And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

It happened on a stormy night. When the tension was so thick it felt like it could snap.

Y/N had gone to the training grounds, seeking solitude.

But of course, Xaden followed.

She sensed him before he spoke. Always did. But she didn’t turn around. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Until…

“I know it’s platonic,” he said quietly.

She stiffened. Then slowly turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

Xaden took a step closer, his gaze unreadable.

“I know you’re not with him.”

Y/N tilted her head, something dangerous and mocking in her eyes.

“And?”

Xaden exhaled sharply. “And it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Her lips parted slightly. Because this was different. This wasn’t him asking for another chance. This wasn’t him chasing her, hoping she’d let him in. This was him standing his ground. Him refusing to pretend he wasn’t hers.

“I don’t care if you’re not with him,” he said, voice low, steady.

“I don’t care how long you make me wait. How hard you make this.”

He stepped closer.

Crowding her. Consuming her.

“I don’t care if you never admit that you still love me,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because Gods help her, she had spent weeks waiting for him to crack. To slip back into old habits. To fail. But he hadn’t. He had stayed. Even when she made him suffer. Even when she pushed him away.

Because for the first time, he was fighting for her. And Gods help her, she wanted to believe him. But believing him meant admitting she had never stopped loving him. And that? That was terrifying.

Xaden must have seen it in her eyes. Because his gaze softened, just slightly.

And then, he broke her.

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“For thinking you’d always be there. For thinking I could have you without giving you everything.”

He swallowed hard.

“But I’m here now.”

A pause. Then, the final blow.

“And I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

Y/N shattered. Because fuck, she wanted to believe him.

And maybe, maybe she finally did.

She let out a shaky breath. And then, finally, she stopped running.

Xaden barely had time to react before she grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed her lips against his. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate, aching, furious. It was everything they had been holding back.

Xaden let out a low, guttural sound, his hands sliding into her hair, gripping her like she might disappear. Like he was never going to let her go. Because he wasn’t. Not this time. Not ever.

And as her fingers tightened around him, as she finally, finally let herself believe him…

Xaden Riorson knew one thing.

The suffering had been worth it. Because in the end, he had won the only war that mattered.

Her.

[breezyblossoms]

Y/N stood by the small viewport in the corner of the landing field, staring out at the vast expanse of space. The stars, once bright and full of promise, now felt like distant, indifferent pinpricks in the inky blackness. She could see nothing but the dark void stretching endlessly around her. Everything in her world had been consumed by that darkness, and it felt like it was slowly closing in.

It had been months since the mission had begun, and it wasn’t supposed to feel this way. They were supposed to be fighting for something, for a cause, for hope, for the future. But all she felt now was a heavy, all-consuming loneliness. The loneliness was different than the isolation she’d felt growing up. This was deeper. It was as though the universe itself had decided to swallow her whole.

A soft footstep behind her broke the silence, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The feeling of his presence was so familiar now. Bodhi Durran. A man who had once radiated optimism and unwavering determination, now carrying his own set of burdens. They had both been changed by the endless stretches of the unknown.

“Y/N,” Bodhi’s voice was quieter than usual, like he wasn’t sure if speaking would break something that was already fragile.

Y/N turned slowly, meeting his eyes. There was a weight there, one that mirrored her own. They had both seen things in the last few months, horrors, loss, and moments where it felt like they were fighting a battle that could never be won.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Bodhi continued, stepping closer but not quite reaching her. He wanted to, but some invisible distance seemed to separate them. He was searching for something in her eyes that he didn’t understand, that he didn’t know how to give back.

She looked at him, her lips parting to say something, but the words seemed stuck. Instead, she simply shook her head and let out a slow breath. “I feel… so alone, Bodhi.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his chest tightened, as though the weight of her words had hit him like a blow. He had known the feeling. He had lived with it for so long, ever since the day they set out on this impossible mission. But he never thought she felt the same. He had always been the one trying to hold things together, trying to convince her that the universe wasn’t as cold as it seemed.

“You’re not alone,” Bodhi said gently, his voice rough. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against hers. “I’m right here.”

But the touch didn’t fill the emptiness inside of her. It didn’t chase away the isolation she felt, the emptiness that only seemed to grow the longer they were in space. The same isolation that had taken root in Bodhi’s heart, despite the way he always tried to protect her from it.

“I don’t know if this is enough anymore,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if anything is enough.”

The tears were coming now, quiet but inevitable. She couldn’t hold them back anymore. Her emotions had been on the edge for so long, and Bodhi’s simple words, his touch, made everything overflow.

Bodhi didn’t know what to say. He could feel the same pain inside himself, the same growing distance between them. They had both lost so much already, and the longer they stayed out here, the more it seemed like they were drifting farther apart. He wanted to hold her, to make it all go away, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know if it was even possible.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, the sincerity clear in his voice. He took a step closer, his heart hammering in his chest as he moved closer, wanting to close the gap between them. “I don’t want you to feel alone.”

But even as he said the words, he felt the bitter truth hanging between them like an impenetrable wall. It wasn’t just the physical distance that separated them; it was the weight of everything they had been through, the unsaid things, the fears of a future that felt impossible to face.

Y/N wiped her eyes and tried to steady her breath. “I don’t know how to fight this anymore, Bodhi. I feel like I’m losing myself in this void.”

Bodhi reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You haven’t lost yourself. You’re still in there, Y/N. I know you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

But even with his hands on her, even with his words, Y/N couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that no one could ever truly understand. They were both lost, lost in the vastness of space, lost in the mission, lost in the isolation of their own hearts.

She leaned into his touch for a brief moment, her forehead resting against his. “I don’t know if I can keep pretending everything’s fine. I feel like I’m breaking.”

Bodhi’s grip tightened just slightly, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll fix this. Together. You and me. I swear.”

But deep inside, Y/N wasn’t sure if any promise could erase the loneliness she felt. The kind of loneliness that no one else could see, the kind that consumed her slowly until she wondered if she’d ever be able to find herself again.

And yet, as they stood together in the cold, empty space of the ship, there was a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t entirely alone. Maybe, even in the darkest moments, there was still a chance for them to find their way back to each other.

Bodhi whispered against her hair, the words soft but full of emotion. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N allowed herself to believe him.

[breezyblossoms]

A/N: Fourth Wing Spoilers!!

The battlefield was silent, the air heavy with the weight of loss. The scent of smoke lingered in the thick night, mixing with the fresh, cold bite of the wind. In the midst of the ruin and the screams of those who had fallen, there was a place where time felt suspended, a moment frozen forever.

It was there you stood, your eyes fixed on the spot where Liam Mairi had fallen. His body lay still, lifeless, but the memory of him, the essence of his spirit, hovered around you like a mist. You could still hear his voice in the recesses of your mind, his laugh, his unwavering support, and his determination. It felt like you were in a dream, one where you couldn’t wake up, no matter how hard you tried.

The night had begun like any other. The skies had been full of fire and blood as the war raged on, but it was on that very night that something had shifted. Something had broken. You and Liam had shared a quiet moment before the battle, a brief pause amidst the chaos that defined your lives. He had always been there for you, your closest ally and friend, always ready with a joke to lift your spirits or a hand to steady you when the world seemed too much to bear.

But now, he was gone.

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. It felt wrong to. You didn’t want to erase the grief, the ache in your chest that burned hotter than the fires of war. You didn’t want to forget the moment you had shared. The moment when it all felt like it had just begun.

“I’ve got your back, always.”

His words echoed in your mind, a promise he had made, a promise he couldn’t keep. But you didn’t hold it against him. How could you? He had given everything, and you knew that with his death, he had left a hole that could never be filled.

In the distance, you heard someone approach. It was a soft step, but you didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You could feel their presence before they even spoke.

“You never told me,” Violet whispered softly, stepping up beside you. You hadn’t noticed how close she had been until now, but her quiet voice was a grounding force in the storm of grief.

“What?” You wiped your face, quickly trying to hide the tears you knew she had already seen. But she didn’t say anything, only stood in silence beside you, her presence like a steady hand on your shoulder.

“That he was everything to you.” She paused, looking out over the battlefield, her eyes tracing the horizon, the stars barely visible through the smoke.

“He was everything,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “He was my family. My… everything.”

The night felt still. The weight of it pressing against your chest, suffocating, but you didn’t mind the pressure. It was like the night had swallowed you whole, leaving you here in this place where everything had ended. Where you were left alone with only the memory of him.

The silence stretched, the air between you and Violet filled with unspoken understanding. Neither of you needed to say the words. There were no words that could explain the weight of what had just happened.

“You know,” Violet said quietly, “I’m glad I met him. Even if it was only for a short time.” Her voice cracked on the final word, and you felt a pang of sympathy for her. She had loved him, too.

You nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “He was… he was always there, wasn’t he? Always ready to fight. To protect.”

“Always ready to smile, too,” Violet added softly, her voice light with the faintest hint of a laugh, even as the sorrow clung to her like a second skin. “You know, I think he would’ve wanted us to remember him that way. Not like this. Not in the aftermath.”

You nodded again, feeling the sting of that truth, but also a sense of peace. Liam had lived a life full of light, full of love and laughter, even in the face of the darkest of battles. That’s how you would remember him, not for the way he fell, but for the way he stood, always strong, always unyielding.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “That’s how I want to remember him.”

Violet didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t need to. Her hand brushed against yours in silent comfort, a gesture that spoke more than words ever could. In that fleeting touch, you both felt the gravity of the night. You felt the pull of everything you had lost, but also the weight of everything you had gained, friendship, love, and the fleeting but precious moments that life gave you.

As the stars finally broke free from the haze of smoke, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and remember the night you met. Not the battle. Not the blood. Not the heartbreak.

But the quiet moments, the soft words exchanged, the laughter shared, and the feeling of someone standing beside you, no matter what. The feeling that, for that short time, you were whole.

And in that moment, you could almost hear his voice again.

“I’ve got your back, always.”

The night was still. The world seemed to stand still for just a moment, and you allowed yourself to breathe, holding on to the memory, the love, and the person who would forever live in your heart.

[breezyblossoms]

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

The days after Xaden’s visit were a blur. You spent your time in the training fields, in the library, anywhere but in your room or near him. You tried to keep busy, to drown out the ache that had begun to settle in your chest. Every glance, every stray thought, seemed to circle back to him. The space he had left in your life was vast, and though you were doing everything you could to fill it, it remained an emptiness that no amount of activity or company could erase.

It wasn’t just the absence of him, but the weight of the things left unsaid, the promises broken. You had tried to guard your heart from him, but the truth was, you were still healing, still raw. The walls you had built were crumbling, but you were too afraid to let him see the cracks.

Weeks passed, and the distance between you and Xaden had settled into an uncomfortable rhythm. He kept his distance as promised, but you could feel the tension whenever you crossed paths. His eyes, always searching for a glimpse of you, never fully left. It was as though he was waiting, silently pleading for something, but never pushing.

One evening, after another grueling training session, you found yourself alone in the courtyard. The cool evening air was a welcome relief against the heat of your body, still flushed with exertion. You let out a deep breath, your arms stretched above your head as you tried to clear your mind.

A familiar presence stirred behind you, but you didn’t turn. Not yet.

“You’re still angry with me.”

The voice was soft, but firm, carrying a weight of sincerity that caught you off guard. Xaden.

You sighed, running your hand through your hair before finally turning to face him. His expression was unreadable, his eyes locked on you with a desperation that you hadn’t seen before. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, as if the entire world had frozen, holding its breath.

“I’m not angry,” you said after a long pause. “I’m… I’m trying, Xaden. I really am.” You swallowed, fighting to keep your composure. “But I can’t just forget what happened. I can’t forget how you left, how you chose to be with her without a second thought. You hurt me. You broke me.”

“I know,” he said quietly, stepping closer, but not too close. “I’ll never ask you to forget. I just… I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to lose you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You don’t get it, do you? You didn’t just lose me, Xaden. You threw me away. You pushed me aside, and now, after everything, you want me to believe you’ve changed?”

He didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened with guilt. “I made mistakes. Terrible ones. But I am not the same person I was. I’ll spend every day of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of emotions flood over you. Anger. Hurt. But there was something else, something softer, that began to surface beneath the layers of pain.

“I don’t know if I can let you,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can trust you again. You’ve shattered everything I believed in. The person I thought you were… it wasn’t real.”

“I am real,” he said urgently, his voice rising with emotion. “I’m here, now. I’ve always been here, even when you couldn’t see me. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped feeling like I’d lost the most important thing in my life.”

You blinked away the sudden sting in your eyes, but the floodgates you had so carefully sealed inside you seemed to crack open. “Xaden… you don’t know what this has done to me. You don’t know how much it hurts to see you with her every day. To see you look at her the way you once looked at me. I don’t know how to move past that.”

He stepped forward again, this time not stopping until the space between you was gone. “I didn’t choose her over you, Y/N. I never wanted you to think that. I was trying to protect you—protect us both. I was wrong. I was so damn wrong.”

You felt his presence in every corner of your body, the warmth of him so familiar it almost felt like a dream. But it wasn’t. This was real, and you were standing here, facing him, and trying to decide whether or not it was worth taking the risk again.

“I’m scared,” you confessed quietly, looking into his eyes, searching for some glimmer of hope. “I’m scared of letting you back in and getting hurt again.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked like the boy who had once stood beside you, whose smile had made your heart race. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I’d rather be scared than live without you. I’ll wait for you, Y/N. For as long as it takes. I’ll never stop proving that I’m worthy of your trust. Please… don’t walk away.”

The space between you felt charged, as if the world itself was waiting for your decision. You didn’t know what would happen if you allowed him back into your heart, but for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like the walls would crush you.

“Give me time,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m not ready to forgive you, Xaden. Not yet. But I want to try. I want to see if we can rebuild what we had.”

A smile, small and uncertain, spread across his face. “That’s all I need. Time.”

There was a peace, tentative and fragile, that settled over you. It wasn’t a happy ending, not yet. But it was a beginning. And sometimes, that was enough.

As you turned to walk back, you felt his presence beside you, not leading, not forcing, but walking at your pace, allowing you the space you needed. There were still many things to heal, and the journey ahead would be long and uncertain. But maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the future.

And in that moment, you weren’t alone anymore.

The third and final part! I didn’t know how to finish it, but I hope yall like it!

Let me know what y’all think! First time ever writing anything lol 🫶🏼

[breezyblossoms]

PART 1

PART 2

The days after your conversation with Xaden were quiet. The halls of Basgaith seemed emptier without his presence, even though you tried to fill the silence with Bodhi, Garrick, and the usual activities. It was as if the weight of your words had settled in the air, hanging between you and the world around you. You had been careful to keep your distance from Xaden, though you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing glances every now and then, especially during the times when Violet was by his side.

She was always with him now. Whether it was during meals, in training sessions, or while they were preparing for the next mission, you saw the way Xaden’s attention shifted entirely toward her. There were moments when his gaze lingered, so obvious that it nearly broke your heart, and you would look away, pretending that you didn’t care. But you did.

You loved him, and it was an ache that wouldn’t leave.

⸻

A week had passed since that day on the parapet. You hadn’t seen Xaden since, nor had you spoken to him. You had locked yourself in your room, convinced that distancing yourself from him was the only way to survive this ache in your chest.

It was late one evening, long after the rest of the riders had gone to sleep, when a soft knock echoed against your door. You hesitated, the familiar ache in your heart making it difficult to even consider opening the door. You knew it was him.

With a deep breath, you stood and walked over to open it.

Xaden stood in the doorway, his figure framed by the dim light of the hallway. His eyes were filled with a mix of guilt and something you couldn’t quite name. He stood there, as if unsure whether to speak or to leave.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly, his voice uncertain.

You looked at him for a long moment, your heart pounding in your chest. He had hurt you, yes. But there was still a part of you that wanted him to come in, to hold you and make the pain go away. But you couldn’t let him do that. Not when things were this broken.

“I don’t think we should talk right now, Xaden,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to guard your heart. “We’ve already said what needed to be said.”

“I know,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “But I can’t leave it like this. Please, Y/N… Let me explain. Let me try to fix this.”

You stared at him, the tears threatening to spill. “You’ve already chosen her, Xaden. There’s nothing left to fix. You’ve made your choice, and I respect that.”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him. “It’s not like that,” he whispered, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s not about choosing her over you. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. You mean everything to me.”

“Then why are you with her?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. The anger, the hurt, it all came rushing out. “Why are you pushing me away and staying by her side? Why didn’t you choose me when I needed you the most?”

Xaden’s expression softened, and he reached out for you, but you stepped back. “Please,” you whispered. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “I was selfish. I thought I was doing what was right — what I had to do. I thought you’d understand, but I see now that I was wrong. I took you for granted. I always have.”

You shook your head, a laugh escaping you, but it was bitter. “You didn’t just take me for granted, Xaden. You left me. You chose to let me go without a second thought. And now you come to me, asking for forgiveness? You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve anything from you. But I need you to know that I’ve made a mistake. And I’m willing to do anything to fix it. Please.”

The raw desperation in his voice made your heart ache. But you couldn’t let him in again, not when the walls you had so carefully built around yourself felt so fragile.

“Xaden… you made me believe in something that wasn’t real. You made me feel like I was the one. And now you expect me to believe that after everything, you can just fix this? After everything you’ve done… you really think I can just go back to how things were?”

He stared at you, clearly broken by your words, but he didn’t move. “I don’t know how to fix it, Y/N. But I can’t live with the thought that I’ve lost you. I can’t. I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life if I don’t try to make this right. If you give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I’m not the man who left you behind. I’ll be the person you thought I was. I’ll be the person you need.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the weight of his words settling on your shoulders. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the pain of his absence had been too much, too deep. You weren’t sure you could ever trust him the same way again.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Xaden. It hurts too much.”

Xaden’s eyes filled with unshed tears, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. And in that moment, something inside you shifted. You knew he wasn’t the same person you had known before. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t hope.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice trembling. “I can’t promise anything. But maybe… maybe we can try again. But I need time. I need you to give me space. I need time to heal.”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. “I’ll give you all the time you need, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. I just… I need you to know that I’m here. For you. Whenever you’re ready.”

As he stepped back, the door between you slowly closing, you felt a wave of uncertainty and fear rush through you. But there was a small part of you that still held on to the love you had once shared with him. Maybe it wasn’t gone forever. Maybe it just needed time to heal.

And maybe, just maybe, with time, you’d find your way back to each other.

But for now, the distance was all that could save you.

[breezyblossoms]

You had been friends with Xaden, Bodhi, and Garrick since childhood. Bodhi had always been your best friend, while Xaden and Garrick were just close friends. However, in Basgaith, your “close friend” relationship with Xaden had grown into something more physical. You would often find yourselves at each other’s doors, seeking stress relief or simply having “fun”.

Three years in Basgaith and two and a half years into this “relationship” with Xaden, something had changed. You rarely saw him, even when you wanted to hang out with him, Bodhi, and Garrick. It seemed like Violet Sorrengail had taken up most of his time. You were aware of the deal he had with General Sorrengail, but you hadn’t expected her to bond with Tairn, Saygel’s mate. Her life had become intertwined with Xaden’s. His survival depended on hers. You had witnessed Xaden training her, both on and off the mat and during flying exercises, even going as far as getting her a saddle. As you searched for him, his eyes would linger on her in crowded rooms.

The year had finally come to an end, and everyone was celebrating and drinking. You, however, wanted to be alone and away from everything and everyone. So, you decided to head towards the parapet. You were sitting on the edge, your feet dangling, looking out into the sunset. An hour or so into your solitude, you heard footsteps. Turning to your left, you found Xaden approaching you and sitting next to you. You had seen him around the halls, but it had been a while since you had been in close proximity with him. There was that awkward silence that you had never imagined you would have with Xaden, especially after knowing him for years.

“It feels like years have passed since we last saw or spoke. How have you been?” he asked, glancing ahead. “I’m doing well. How are you?” He began to feel like a stranger, as if you no longer knew him. “I’m doing well.” The silence returned.

“I’m sorry,” he began, but before he could finish, you both interrupted. “Can we talk?” you both said simultaneously, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouths.

“I’m sorry,” he started again. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke, and I know it’s mostly my fault. I have to train Violet now and ensure her safety. I made a deal with her mother, and now her life is intertwined with mine since she bonded Sageyl’s mate.” He fell silent once more. “I know. I understand.”

After a few moments of silence, he turned his head to look at you. You lifted your head, gazing out towards the horizon. “I just want to express something that’s been on my mind. I don’t know when we’ll have another opportunity like this, just the two of us alone.” You took a deep breath, preparing to get straight to the point and end this conversation. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’m afraid that my feelings will never change.” You began. “But I didn’t fall in love with you because of the things you could do for me or because I felt the need to be in a relationship to be happy.” You kept your eyes fixed on the sunset while you sensed him staring at you. “I fell in love with you because you were the first person to bring me genuine happiness in a long time. I felt safe and at home when I was with you. Your arms felt like a sanctuary.” You could see his hand moving, as if he wanted to reach out and hold you, but he hesitated. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to be that person for you. I couldn’t make you feel the way you made me feel.” You wiped away your tears. “But I’m genuinely happy that you’ve found someone who makes you happy. You deserve to be happy, especially after everything you’ve been through.” “I’m sorry,” you apologized to him as your last words before wiping away the remaining tears and taking a deep breath.

With that, you stood up and walked away, leaving before Xaden had a chance to respond.

Note: kinda inspired by ‘Cause You Have To by LANY