Everyone called him Paddy, but only the privileged ever did so to his face. There were a lot of Irishmen in the regiment, but everyone knew who one was talking about when mentioning 'Paddy'
Smalllll info dump as the historian in me finds it fascinating how he also signs off with 'Paddy' and not with R. B. Mayne or Blair✨️
Askbox is glitching so @andtheivy I'll answer this way — made a Mayne supercut with identifiers!
Green arrow's for Mayne, purple's for Cooper, they're off to the side so you can see everything but they should be roughly lined up with their heads. (Full-bleed clips are from the juicy HD footage they licensed for the 2017 documentary Rogue Warriors.)
I'm trying to post this on TikTok.. The most important word is that there is 'trying', as it flags the sound for copy right. SOS, I'm just a humble Jack O'Connell fan trying to post an edit (which also cost me blood, sweat, and tears to make)
I'm trying to post this on TikTok.. The most important word is that there is 'trying', as it flags the sound for copy right. SOS, I'm just a humble Jack O'Connell fan trying to post an edit (which also cost me blood, sweat, and tears to make)
⸻ image credits to artbycassmira & etherealbookart ⸻
summary: Aaric finds himself unwillingly roped into reader’s drunken antics—especially when she decides he’s the perfect person to cling to for the night.
pairing: aaric graycastle x fem!reader
warnings: fluff
word count: 3.7k
Request by @asteria-wood: would u be able to do aaric x drunk reader? like fluff and lowk funny since drunk reader is one of those cheery happy ranting drunks…🥺🥺🥺
- Thank you so much for your requests, I hope you like this one 💙
⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻
The hall was loud, filled with laughter and clinking of cups that only came after a successful mission—or in this case, a night of reckless indulgence. Someone had decided that a drinking game was the best way to unwind after weeks of relentless training, and, to no one’s surprise, it had spiraled completely out of control.
Y/N wasn’t sure who started it. It might have been Ridoc, because of course it was, or maybe Sawyer, who had a terrible habit of egging people on just to see what would happen. Either way, the game had begun, and Y/N had made the unfortunate decision to participate with the same determination she approached everything in life. Which was why, at this moment, she was absolutely hammered.
Across the room, Aaric leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, watching the chaos unfold with his usual unreadable expression. He was nursing the same drink he’d started with hours ago, clearly in no hurry to join in the drunken shenanigans. That was just so typical of him. Always composed. Always in control. Always watching.
Meanwhile, Y/N was very much not in control. She barely remembered how many drinks she’d had—just that each one had gone down smoother than the last. At some point, the game had stopped mattering, and she’d found herself swept up in the warmth of the room, in the laughter of her friends, in the way everything felt just a little bit funnier than usual.
Like Ridoc attempting to balance two cups on his head. Or Rhi’s dramatized retelling of an absolutely atrocious battle strategy someone had suggested. Or the way the firelight flickered across Aaric’s face, making his green eyes glow in a way that was entirely unfair. Wait. No. Not that last one. She groaned, shaking her head as if it would physically rid her of the thought. The movement made the room tilt slightly, and she giggled to herself, because walking was going to be an adventure later.
Someone—probably Sloane—nudged her shoulder, smirking. “How are you still standing?” Y/N grinned. “Pure determination.” Sloane snorted. “You mean pure stupidity.” “Same thing.” A deep chuckle sounded from next to her, and Y/N’s head snapped toward the source. Aaric was watching her with an amused tilt to his lips, his head resting against his knuckles like he was enjoying some sort of personal entertainment show.
“What?” she demanded, pointing at him—though her finger wobbled slightly in the air. “What’s so funny?” Aaric arched a brow, that smirk still playing at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, nothing,” he mused. “I’m just waiting to see how long it takes before you topple over.” Y/N narrowed her eyes, swaying slightly where she stood. “Joke’s on you, I—” she took a step forward and immediately stumbled. A strong hand caught her arm before she could crash into the table. Aaric. Of course.
His grip was firm, the heat of his palm searing through the fabric of her sleeve. He didn’t let go right away, probably because she still wasn’t standing entirely upright. His smirk deepened. “Told you.” Y/N squinted up at him. “You have entirely too much faith in gravity.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “And you have entirely too little.”
She would’ve argued—really, she would’ve—but something about the way he was looking at her made words harder to form. Maybe it was the flicker of amusement in his eyes, or the way his hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he finally let her go. She definitely wasn’t drunk enough to deal with that. Or maybe she was too drunk. Hard to tell. Either way, the night was far from over.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Aaric knew the exact moment Y/N crossed the threshold from tipsy to absolutely gone. One second, she was swaying slightly on her feet, squinting at him like she was trying to figure out if he was real or a particularly smug hallucination. The next, she gasped dramatically—loudly—and threw her arms around Sloane, nearly knocking them both to the ground.
“Sloaneeeee,” Y/N whined, clinging to her like she was about to be dragged off to war. “You’re, like… the best. Have I told you that? You’re amazing. I love you.” Sloane—clearly amused but also struggling to stay upright—patted Y/N on the back. “Uh, thanks?” “No, no, no,” Y/N insisted, pulling back just enough to grab Sloane’s face between her hands. “I need you to understand how much I love you, okay? You’re, like, so cool, and you always have my back, and you make the best jokes, and—”
Sloane shot a look at the rest of the squad, grinning. “She’s gone.” “I am not,” Y/N protested, releasing her only to immediately latch onto Ridoc. “Ridoc! You.” Ridoc, already laughing, braced himself as she gripped his arms. “Me?” “Yes, you. Listen.” She swayed, her hands tightening as if she needed to physically steady herself. “You’re a menace, but you’re our menace. And that’s important.” Ridoc dramatically wiped away a fake tear. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Y/N nodded solemnly. “I mean it. You make life… life-y.” “I think you mean lively,” Aaric drawled from his seat. Y/N’s head snapped toward him so fast she nearly fell over. Her eyes locked onto him like a heat-seeking missile, and Aaric had just enough time to realize what was about to happen before she lunged. The impact wasn’t as bad as he expected—mostly because he caught her before she could send them both to the floor. But that didn’t mean he was prepared for the hug.
Because Y/N wasn’t just hugging him. She was clinging to him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face buried in his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. And worse—far, far worse—was the small, content sigh she let out as she nuzzled into him. Aaric froze. His entire squad gawked. Ridoc was already mouthing what the fuck at him, while Sawyer looked like he was fighting the urge to burst out laughing.
Aaric cleared his throat, but Y/N was too busy melting into him to notice. “You are very drunk.” “Mmhmm,” she hummed. “You’re comfy.” Aaric’s eye twitched. “I—” Before he could disentangle himself, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her face mere inches from his. Her eyes were slightly unfocused but full of unfiltered joy, her lips stretched into the happiest little grin he’d ever seen. “Your hair looks so soft,” she whispered, as if it were some grand revelation.
Aaric blinked. “I—what?” “I knew it.” She sounded entirely too triumphant, her fingers twitching against his shirt like she was seconds away from reaching up and testing her theory. “It’s always so perfectly in place, but I bet it’s so soft—” He caught her wrist before she could touch him, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You are not petting me.” Y/N gasped, scandalized. “I would never.” A beat. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s because you never let me touch it and now I really want to—”
“I’m cutting you off,” Aaric said flatly. Y/N pouted. “Rude.” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as she happily leaned back against him, using him like a very unamused chair. The squad, meanwhile, was loving this. “Are you going to get up at some point?” he asked dryly. “Mmmmm… no.” Aaric sighed. This was going to be a long night. And it only got worse when Y/N suddenly perked up, gasping. “OH MY GOD.”
Aaric flinched. “What?” Y/N grabbed his shirt, eyes wide with urgency. “We don’t compliment dragons enough.” Aaric stared. “...What?” “No, think about it.” She wiggled, looking around at the others like she was expecting some grand agreement. “We call them powerful and terrifying and majestic, but when do we ever just—just compliment them?”
Sloane, clearly entertained, tilted her head. “Like… how?” “Like, ‘Molvic, your scales are so shiny today’ or ‘Andarna, you have the cutest little tail.’” Y/N threw up her hands. “They deserve hype too!” Ridoc snorted. “You should tell that to Sgaeyl.” Y/N gasped again, her hands flying to her cheeks. “I should.” Aaric sighed. “You should not.”
But Y/N wasn’t listening anymore. No, she was already mumbling something about “dragon affirmations” while resting her head back against his chest, grinning to herself like she’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. Aaric looked up at the ceiling. Why me?
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Aaric had the patience of a saint. Truly, he did. He had spent years dealing with entitled noble lords, arrogant commanders, and self-important politicians who thought themselves invincible. He had faced enemies who would rather die than surrender, survived near-impossible odds, and led squads into battle with a calm, calculating mind.
And yet. Nothing in his extensive experience had prepared him for this. Y/N was thriving in her drunken state, bouncing between affectionate rambling and absurd proclamations like it was her life’s mission to be the most extra person in the room. And his squad? They were reveling in his suffering. “I think it’s time you went to bed,” Aaric announced, shifting beneath her weight as she continued using him as an unwilling seat.
“I think it’s time you went to bed,” Y/N shot back, jabbing a finger at his chest. Aaric arched a brow. “I’m not the one who just tried to fistfight a bottle of whiskey.” “It was taunting me.” Aaric sighed. “You’re done for the night.” “Nooooo, I’m fine.” Y/N made an attempt at sitting up straight, only to wobble so hard that Aaric had to steady her before she face-planted into the floor. “Sure,” he said dryly. “Totally fine.”
Y/N nodded, proud. “Exactly.” Aaric pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can barely sit up, let alone walk.” “I can walk,” she declared, attempting to push herself off of him. “I am a rider.” Aaric gave her a deeply unimpressed look. Y/N grinned, clearly mistaking it for encouragement, and launched herself to her feet. For exactly half a second, she stood victorious, her hands on her hips like she had just conquered the battlefield. Then, reality caught up to her, and she tilted.
Aaric saw it before it happened—the slow, inevitable loss of balance, the widening of her eyes as gravity took hold. “I—whoops—” And then she went down. Aaric caught her before she could properly eat the floor, one strong arm snapping around her waist. She blinked up at him, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly parted. “Oh,” she breathed. “That was close.”
Aaric stared at her. “You absolute menace.” She let out a giggle. “Oops?” The group was dying. Sloane had her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. Ridoc was wheezing, practically folded over. Sawyer had completely given up and was openly cackling. Aaric scowled at all of them before turning his attention back to the very drunk problem in his arms. “Alright. That’s enough of that.”
Y/N blinked at him again, looking very pleased with herself. “I walked, though.” Aaric exhaled sharply. “You tried to walk.” “Same thing.” “Not even remotely.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “But you caught me.” Aaric clenched his jaw. “Obviously.” Before she could protest further, he did the only logical thing—he picked her up. Y/N squeaked. “Aaric!” Ignoring the way his squad erupted into loud laughter, he adjusted his grip and effortlessly tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“HEY!” Y/N shrieked, kicking her legs. “THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THE RULES.” Aaric tightened his hold to keep her from wriggling too much. “What rules?” “The—” She paused. “I don’t know, but I’m sure there are some!” He started walking. “Fascinating.” “I swear I can walk!” she whined, drumming her fists lightly against his back. Aaric sighed, keeping a firm grip around her legs. “You literally just proved that you can’t.”
“I just lost focus! That’s all!” “Mm-hmm.” Y/N huffed dramatically. “This is humiliating.” “You’ll live.” “I won’t! This is a war crime.” Aaric smirked. “Oh? Are you going to report me?” “Yes!” “To who?” “…I don’t know, but someone very important!” Aaric rolled his eyes and kept walking. She squirmed again, clearly still determined to prove she didn’t need to be carried, but she also had the coordination of a newborn fawn. Eventually, she seemed to realize she was not winning this battle, because with a dramatic sigh, she flopped against his back.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But you’re still rude.” Aaric bit back a laugh. “Duly noted.” She mumbled something incoherent before suddenly perking up. “Oh! Wait!” Aaric braced himself. “What now?” Her hands grabbed his shoulders, and before he could stop her, she propped her chin on his back, peering at him upside down.
“You do have soft hair,” she whispered conspiratorially. Aaric stopped walking. Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head to glare at her, but she just beamed at him like she’d uncovered the world’s greatest secret. His eye twitched. Ridoc actually fell over from laughing too hard. Sloane wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, this is the best night of my life.” Aaric sighed, resigned.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
By the time he reached her room, he had endured a full five minutes of her wiggling, complaining, and occasionally marveling over his existence. His personal favorite had been: “Do you bathe in perfection, or is it just a natural phenomenon?” He had no response to that. Now, with her safely deposited on her bed, he should have been able to make his escape. Except Y/N had other plans.
Aaric pulled the blanket over her, patting it down like she was a particularly unruly hatchling that might try to escape. “Sleep.” Y/N pouted. “But I’m not tired.” “Yes, you are.” She huffed. “You don’t know that.” “I do,” Aaric countered, deadpan. “Because you were literally falling asleep on my shoulder earlier.” “That’s different,” she argued, flopping dramatically against her pillow. “Your shoulder is comfortable.”
Aaric stilled for half a second. He definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the way his heart did something weird in response. Instead, he sighed, reaching for the blanket to tuck her in again. “Just go to sleep.” Y/N blinked up at him, eyes unfocused but still filled with the same warmth they always held. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”
Aaric froze. Slowly, carefully, he sat back on the edge of her bed, giving her a look. “What?” Y/N gave him a very serious nod, like she had just made the most profound statement of her life. “It’s actually very rude.” Aaric narrowed his eyes. “How is that rude?” She pointed at him, her arm wobbling. “Because the rest of us have to look at you every day, and it’s unfair.”
Aaric blinked. “Excuse me?” She continued like he hadn’t spoken. “You should smile more, though. But not too much.” Aaric pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—” “Because,” she interrupted, reaching out to poke his chest with a single finger, “if you smile too much, it would be too powerful. And then everyone would die.” Aaric stared. “Everyone would die?” She nodded again, her expression solemn. “Instant death. Too much beauty.”
Aaric let out a slow breath. “You are unhinged.” “And you are pretty,” she countered. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to the gods—” “You should also let me touch your hair,” she declared, reaching up to poke at the strands falling loose on his forehead. Aaric leaned back, just out of reach. “That is not happening.”
Y/N gasped. “But why?” “Because I don’t trust you with my hair while you’re drunk,” Aaric said dryly. “But you have prince hair,” she insisted. “It’s all soft and perfect. It’s basically begging to be touched.” Aaric snorted. “Prince hair?” She nodded fiercely. “Yes.” He shook his head, unable to stop the amused smirk tugging at his lips. “You are completely ridiculous.”
Y/N beamed at him. “Yeah, but you like me.” Aaric’s breath caught. His amusement froze, his heart stumbled, and for a single moment, he just stared at her. Y/N, blissfully unaware, snuggled deeper into the blankets, her eyes fluttering half-shut. “You’re always looking out for me,” she mumbled. “And you’re all grumpy about it, but you care.”
Aaric’s throat tightened. Y/N’s drunken confessions were usually nonsense—random thoughts, exaggerated declarations, things that had no weight beyond the moment. But this? This felt real. Aaric swallowed. “Go to sleep, Y/N.” “Mmm,” she hummed, already half asleep. “You’re nice when no one’s looking…” Aaric sighed, staring down at her as she finally drifted off.
It wasn’t the first time he had taken care of her. It wasn’t the first time he had tucked her in or listened to her ridiculous drunken rants. But it was the first time she had unintentionally confirmed what he had always suspected—That she knew he cared about her. That she saw him, even when he tried to pretend otherwise. And that, somehow, was far more dangerous than anything he had ever faced before.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Y/N’s first conscious thought was that her skull had been split open. Her second was that she might be dead. Her third was that—no, if she were dead, she wouldn’t feel like absolute shit. With a miserable groan, she pried one eye open, immediately regretting it as the dim morning light stabbed into her brain like a dagger. She slammed her eyes shut again and let out a pathetic whimper.
“Ah. You’re alive.” Y/N flinched. That voice. That smug, silky, far-too-amused voice. She cracked her eyes open once more, vision still blurry, and found herself staring directly at Aaric. Sitting in a chair beside her bed, one leg crossed over the other, his usual posture radiating the kind of unfair morning person energy that made her want to commit violence.
Y/N groaned, dragging her blanket over her face. “No.” Aaric arched a single, infuriatingly perfect brow. “No?” She curled into herself, her voice muffled beneath the fabric. “No. This isn’t happening. I am not awake. I refuse.” Aaric exhaled through his nose—one of those low, entertained sounds that usually meant he was holding back laughter.
She hated him. She hated him so much. But also, she was so thirsty and her mouth tasted like she had eaten sandpaper and regret. Slowly, cautiously, she peeled the blanket off her face. “Water?” she rasped, her voice barely functioning. Aaric didn’t move. Just stared. Expression neutral, but eyes gleaming with way too much amusement.
Y/N scowled. “Aaric, I swear to all the gods—” He finally—finally—tilted his head towards the small table beside her bed. Where, to her great relief, a glass of water and a potion bottle sat. Y/N lunged for them, wincing as her head throbbed in protest. She downed the water in record time, then uncorked the potion bottle, sniffing it. “Hangover remedy?” she croaked.
Aaric nodded. “Made sure it wasn’t poisoned first. You’re welcome.” Y/N paused, staring at him. “You tested my hangover potion?” Aaric lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Seemed necessary. You were… particularly reckless last night.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Define reckless.” And just like that—Aaric’s smirk deepened.
That should have been her warning. That should have been the moment she braced herself. But no, she had to go and ask. Aaric leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed. “Well,” he drawled, “you were very insistent that my hair was, and I quote, ‘too soft to be allowed.’” Y/N froze. Aaric continued, deliberately slow, deliberately smug. “You also declared that if I smiled too much, people would—what was it?—ah, yes. ‘Instantly drop dead from the devastating power of it.’”
Y/N squeaked. Actual, horrified, panicked squeaking noise. Aaric wasn’t done. Oh no. He lifted one hand to his chin, feigning deep thought. “Oh, and then there was the part where you very dramatically informed me that I must, under no circumstances, ever take off my shirt in public, because, and I quote—”
Y/N launched herself at him. Or rather, she tried to. Her head protested immediately, and she ended up flopping forward like a dying fish, landing face-first in her pillow with a muffled scream. Aaric chuckled. The absolute bastard. “Oh, don’t stop me now,” he said way too cheerfully. “We’re getting to the best parts.” Y/N let out a sound that was one part groan, one part death wail.
Aaric, meanwhile, was enjoying himself far too much. “You also suggested,” he continued smoothly, “that I allow you to touch my hair, because apparently I have ‘prince hair’—which I must say is a new one.” Y/N screamed into her pillow. “And finally,” Aaric said, his voice lowering just slightly, “you made an excellent case as to why I must, under no circumstances, ever stop looking out for you.”
Y/N froze. Her stomach dropped. Slowly, so slowly, she turned her head, peeking up at him through wide, mortified eyes. Aaric wasn’t smirking anymore. His expression was still amused, but… softer. Almost fond. She swallowed. “I—” “You’re always looking out for me,” Aaric murmured, repeating her words from the night before, his voice gentler now. “And you’re all grumpy about it, but you care.” Y/N wanted to evaporate.
Right here, right now. Simply cease to exist. Because of course she had said that. Of course. Aaric tilted his head, watching her reaction, his eyes far too knowing. “You knew, didn’t you?” he asked quietly. “You’ve always known.” Y/N’s heart pounded. Her throat was dry again. There were too many feelings in this room, and she was not emotionally stable enough for this with a hangover.
So she did what she did best—She flopped back onto her pillow with a dramatic groan. “Kill me,” she begged. “Just do it. Right now. End my suffering.” Aaric exhaled, shaking his head, but there was something warm in his expression. “Unfortunately for you,” he said, leaning forward to pluck the empty glass from her nightstand, “I still have some looking out for you left to do.”
Y/N peeked up at him, wary. “…Which means?” Aaric smirked. “That I made sure you have an entire day of duties ahead of you.” Y/N gasped. “You—you monster!” Aaric stood, already heading for the door, far too pleased with himself. “Welcome to consequences, Y/N.” She launched a pillow at his head. He dodged it without even looking back. And with that, he was gone—leaving her in the wreckage of her own choices. Aaric was never letting her live this down.
Summary: It’s time for Threshing! You and Aaric are separated and try to find a way back to each other. If you can stay alive.
Warnings: very graphic violence, blood, swearing, dragons being dragons, yearning, idiots in love
Author’s Note: part 5 might be turning up the heat for this slowly burning slow-burn👀
Word Count: 5.3K
Part Three | Part Five
————
-Threshing-
(Aaric POV)
The sharp blade of a dagger hovers inches from Aaric’s throat. Any closer, and the edge would cut open his artery, making him bleed out all over the forest floor.
With heaving breaths, he meets the eye of the enraged cadet. Snarling, the first-year tries to press in, throwing his weight, but once his eyes snap to his knife, Aaric takes his shot. He throws his elbow into his opponent’s gut, before leaning forward and biting his fingers. He coughs a yell, dropping the dagger on instinct. Aaric doesn’t waste time. He throws every ounce of strength into tackling the cadet to the dirt. The stolen dagger slides into his grip as he quickly slices the man’s throat.
Blood sprays, and Aaric dives out of its path. The man’s hands come up to stop the bleeding, but it’s too late. He heaves and chokes, flailing, before his body suddenly stills.
He’s dead within seconds.
Aaric stares at the body for a moment before glancing down at the blood-covered blade. He recalls Y/N’s words from this morning. “Threshing will be a breeze.”
He scoffs, wiping the dagger off the dead cadet’s trousers to clean it. He recalls the rattled smile she gave him before reluctantly walking away. He knew she was trying to be positive, even though she was obviously worried and afraid. Aaric felt the same, but not for himself.
That’s why he has to find her. Immediately. He has to make sure she’s okay, that she’s alive.
Looking up at the golden leaves of the trees, he takes a deep, steadying breath.
She’s alive. She can take care of herself. She’ll bond a dragon.
Aaric chants this over and over in his mind as he scales down the forest mountainside towards the valley. Distant roars echo through the trees as he treads carefully.
A sudden feminine scream that’s immediately cut off causes him to freeze. It was close by.
It’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her.
The chant carries him through scaling across boulders, one eye on the sky as he tries to take cover under a tree. The grumble of a dragon shakes the ground he’s standing on before he sees a flash of red.
Shit.
For years, Aaric has been gifted the best education by highly acclaimed tutors. Part of that education was studying everything their kingdom knew about dragons. What he knew about Red dragons: if you find yourself cornered by one? You’re already dead.
Red scales gleam in the sunlight. Smoke fills the air as Aaric catches sight of a charred body in cinders lying in the dirt. He takes quick notice that the body is far too short to be Y/N. It emboldens him, but he keeps an eye on the Red as it breathes deeply, snarling.
By the luck of the gods, the dragon hasn’t noticed him yet. He stands near the dragon’s tail, which he notices slithers through the leaves, nearing him. With all the calm he can muster, he slowly backs away, inch by inch, to not draw the dragon’s attention.
Another distant roar suddenly echoes through the valley. But this time, it comes from behind Aaric. He curses every god he can name when the Red’s head swivels to look right at him.
The gleam in its gold eyes, where scars abound its hide, looks entirely too murderous for Aaric’s liking. He stills to appear less threatening, but it’s too late. The Red’s eyes narrow on the bloody dagger in the prince’s hands.
Fuck.
Aaric has seconds to dive out of the way before a stream of fire consumes the tree he was standing in front of. The fire follows him as he runs as fast as he can down the mountain, sliding through mud and leaves. He keeps his footing and just as the dragon’s fire stops, he ducks behind a boulder. He hears its growl as it prowls forward, toying with him.
If this is supposed to be a breeze, like Y/N said, it’s quickly turning into a cyclone.
Panic tries to choke him, but he uses her method of counting backwards from 100 to keep calm and stay centered. If he can’t focus and stay present, he’s dead.
A flash of black in his peripheral is what saves him from being this Red’s next meal. Three cadets stumble upon the scene, enraging the Red further and drawing his attention. Fire singes the air once more, but far from where Aaric hides. He doesn’t waste a second before bolting through the trees.
Where are you?!
Panting, he pumps himself faster. He sees the rise of a cliff up ahead and knows that he can get a good vantage point of the whole valley from there. He could try and see if Y/N is anywhere near him. If not, he’ll assume she’s on the other side. Being on that cliff would leave him entirely exposed to any dragons flying overhead that think he’s better as a snack than someone to bond with.
It’s a risk he’s worth taking for her.
Once Aaric stands on the edge of the stone cliff, he scans the horizon. He sees smoke and wings darting through the trees to the west. A river cuts through the mountains to the east. Basgiath’s towers can be seen to the north.
With a quick surveying of his surrounding area, he knows Y/N isn’t nearby. That seed of hope that was guiding him slowly dies.
What if I find her and it’s too late?
Flashes of the nightmares that plague him nightly flash to the forefront of his mind. Her lifeless eyes trained on him, haunting him for the rest of his life.
A chill slides down his spine.
Aaric and Y/N have known each other for most of their lives. He’s spent every birthday, for as long as he can remember, with her. If this is how she dies because of him, he’ll never forgive himself. They’ve both come too far for this to be their end.
Withering dread slowly fills him to the brim. He can’t imagine life without her. A day without her laughter, her charm, her threats, her smiles, is a day not worth living.
If she dies, she’ll never know that I—
Something large and sapphire-hued streaks through his vision, cutting off everything he can see before he finds himself staring up at very large golden eyes trained entirely on him.
The dragon assesses the prince before landing in front of him, sending Aaric scrambling backwards. He stares up at the looming dragon, fear and apprehension coursing through him. But the previous emotions of panic and worry from earlier echo through him in sudden shades of rage.
Y/N is out there, and he has to find her. He’s going to find her. She’s alive. And if the only way through this damn valley is to fight every dragon he can find to get to her? So be it.
He grips the dagger in his hand, standing his ground. A pregnant pause weighs heavily between them before the dragon throws back its head. With a deafening roar, the Blue levels their head to look Aaric directly in the eye.
“I have been looking for you.”
Aaric’s stomach drops as a deep, gruff voice rings through his mind. The golden eyes of the Blue Clubtail narrow on the dagger.
“Do you wish to kill me, Camlaen Aaric Tauri?” A wave of sulfuric breath washes over the prince. The dragon’s slitted eye contracts as a grumble fills his chest, resembling thunder. “I must warn you, if you try, your mate will surely die.”
—————
(Reader POV)
I’m going to die.
The thought echoes in my bones as fire singes at the heels of my boots. My feet pound through dirt and leaves as I race through the forest.
The Orange Scorpiontail is gaining on me, and the burning trees aren’t helpful as ash and embers rain down from their limbs. I duck and roll beneath a falling branch as the Orange roars loud enough to startle me. I lose my footing and stumble, sending myself sprawling to the ground. Mud cakes itself all over my leathers as I roll to a stop.
Taking quick stock of my limbs to ensure nothing is burned or broken, I stare up at the sky.
Holy shit, I’m alive.
I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Once I establish only a few bruises and aching ankles, I glance over to see the other cadet who crossed my path just before the dragon showed up. She’s sprinting towards a boulder when a scaled jaw, full of sharp teeth as long as my arm, clamps down on her leg and drags her, screaming. I take my chances, hoping this will distract the Orange, and haul myself out of the dirt.
Smoke covers me as I bolt through the trees. I run as far and as fast as I can, putting as much distance between me and the Orange.
Crashing through bushes and twigs, I hurl myself out of the woods at the sound of rushing water. A river cuts through the forest, sparkling in the sunlight.
I catch my breath, relief washing through me when I notice no one is around. The Orange didn’t follow me.
Looking to the sky, I take stock of what I can see. Mountains line the valley where wings tumble through trees and various dragons fly in circles. I didn’t realize bonding a dragon would be so difficult.
Late last night, Aaric had snuck out of the men’s dorms to meet me. We stole away to an alcove with a window overlooking this very valley I’m standing in now. Aaric’s face was tense with concern and worry. We both knew we wouldn’t be together during Threshing. It made everything harder, but we had to trust we would stay alive.
I close my eyes, letting the wind caress my face in the brief stillness.
He’s alive. He’s too stubborn and arrogant to die.
Aaric remained the top of the class for the last month, whether that be in academics or training. It’s not hard to guess he’s breathing and probably already bonded.
I swear to Malek if he’s bonded before me, I’ll—
A dagger whistles by, inches from my face, before embedding itself into the trunk of the tree I’m standing next to. Heart in my throat, I whirl to see two broad cadets standing in the trees. It’s plain to see the murderous intent on their faces as they asses me.
I don’t turn my back on them as I begin to walk backwards towards the river’s edge.
“Looks like we caught ourselves a mouse,” the one with a large, imposing nose drawls.
The other smiles, cold and menacing. Old burn scars cover the left side of his face, making him look even more threatening. “Let’s catch it,” he snarls.
Big Nose darts forward, daggers in hand. I reach behind, finding my throwing knives strapped tightly to my waist. With the flick of a wrist, two blades sail through the air. Big Nose dives out of the way, but the Burned Guy shouts in pain.
“You bitch!” The knife sticks out of his upper thigh. His eyes burning with hate as he limps forward, blood seeping through his pant leg.
“Careful,” I smirk. “The next one will castrate you.”
This mouse has sharp teeth.
Big Nose bounds towards me, trying to tackle me to the ground, but I maneuver out of his reach, backing onto the rocks lining the river. My hands brace my knives in my grip as I try to keep both cadets in sight.
As if he’s reading my mind, Big Nose whistles low to Burned Guy. They take either side of me, forcing me to choose. Burned Guy is injured, his limping growing more severe as he gets closer. He’s not much of a threat. Big Nose, however, with his daggers extended, is more intimidating.
Choice made, I face Big Nose fully just as I throw a blade towards Burned Guy. I hear him swear just as Big Nose aims to punch me in the face. I swerve before slashing at his chest, hard enough for the leather to give beneath the blade to draw blood.
Big Nose hisses before barreling towards me. I dive between his legs, tripping him with my foot as I go. Just as I turn to watch him fall into the rocks head-first, pain rackets up my skull as someone yanks my hair. I gasp in pain as I’m dragged backwards.
“Two against one,” Burned Guy huffs. “Stop fucking around and die already.”
Using my hair, he turns my face to look up at his, blood trickling from his injured leg and arm. I smile at the sight of my knives sticking into him like a pin cushion. Too bad he’ll have to deal with one more.
With every ounce of strength I possess, the throwing knife already gripped in my palm slams to the hilt into his crotch.
The scream Burned Guy unleashes is hair-raising. He lets me go as he falls to the rocks, crying and panting. His screams are blood-curdling as my knife’s grip sticks out of his pants right where his dick is.
“Told ya I’d castrate you,” I wink.
One down, one to go.
As soon as I look away, I’m caught around my middle by two large arms and thrown to the ground. The air is knocked out of me, causing me to wheeze as sharp rocks dig into my back. Big Nose holds his arm to my throat, crushing my windpipe. His body pins me to the ground.
Spots fill my vision as I scramble to punch him in the ribs, kick him in the groin, the leg, anything. He doesn’t budge. He only holds me more with his full weight, not holding back like Aaric does on the mat.
Panic begins to grip me as I try to reach for a knife, only to find the holster empty.
“Out of toys, bitch?” Big Nose spits in my face. His other hand grips my arm, pressing it into the sharp rocks before skin begins to break.
“You didn’t have to fight like that, ya know,” he huffs. “We would’ve taken care of ya. Made it quick. Besides,” he leans closer, my head swimming from lack of oxygen. “I’ve always loved a woman on her back.”
A shriek dies in my throat as he shifts his weight, pinning me to grab something I can’t see. The dagger gleams in the sun as he holds it flat against my cheek.
“You’re pretty,” he smirks. “Not pretty enough to live.”
A sudden roar echoes through the air, startling the cadet on top of me. His attention is briefly torn from me, and I take my shot. I bite his arm as hard as I can before the skin splits and blood rushes into my mouth. Big Nose hollers, bucking off of me, but I’ve already reached for his loosened grip on his knife. I tear it from his hand and throw my weight into tackling him to the rocks, pinning him as I thrust the dagger downward, straight into his eye socket.
Blood sprays from the wound, pooling into the soaked rocks beneath. He screams and thrashes as I rip it back out before plunging it into his throat, opening his artery and cracking the bone of his spine.
He’s dead instantly.
Sharp air slices my lungs like knives as my fingers let go of the pommel. I slide from his body, heaving.
The spots in my vision have begun to fade, and the flow of oxygen in my lungs slowly steadies me. The smell of autumn leaves and wet stone grounds me before I remember the roar from earlier.
A Red Daggertail, with scars covering the entirety of its scales, prowls towards me. Its tongue licks the air like a serpent, tasting the scent of blood.
I’m so fucked.
My heart stops as I freeze on the riverbank. I stare at the golden eyes, wondering if I’m supposed to be feeling something apart from fear. Is this dragon debating between bonding with me or eating me?
A snarl fills the silence as its lips curl, revealing sharp teeth that could crack me in half. It definitely wants to eat me.
Just as I try to move backwards, it lunges.
Another roar cracks the air, but this time, from behind me. I don’t take my eyes off the imminent threat as the dragon stops just before me, eyes snapped up to what is surely another dragon behind me.
I find myself caught between two dragons and I pray to every god there is that this isn’t the Orange Scorpiontail from earlier.
Sulfuric breaths heave behind me, shifting my hair. I freeze on the rocks, hoping the two dragons don’t notice me.
When the Red’s burning eyes snap to mine, I know I’m dead.
I’m so very, very fucked.
The Red darts forward, widening its jaws as it dives for me. In a blink, the dragon behind me rushes in, massive jaw clamping around the Red’s exposed throat and tearing it open. The dragon’s blood sprays the air, masking the world in a brief kaleidoscope of crimson.
The dragon behind me gleams like emeralds as it rips the hide of the Red and cracks the bones of its neck. The fight is over in a minute, and I sit there, dumbfounded and terrified, as the Red’s body slumps into the stream. Blood trickles from its torn neck, turning the crystal water red.
My breaths come out shallow and rough, jackhammering through me as I stare in shock at the dead dragon.
Holy shit, I just watched a dragon kill another dragon.
The ground rumbles like an earthquake as the Green dragon that’s hovering above me roars into the sky. When it’s done, the dragon huffs steam into the dead face of the Red before snapping its attention to me.
“Krik wanted to make you his next meal. I could not allow that to happen.”
The voice that carries into my mind is feminine. It’s soft as the wind and thunderous as a storm. Her eyes are a deep gold, like all dragons, but there’s a ring of green tinted silver around the slitted iris.
I stare in both wonder and bone-rattling fear as she moves her body closer to me.
“Do not be afraid, Y/N Y/L/N. It does not become you.”
I huff an incredulous laugh, but it’s cut off by the sounds of branches snapping. I twist to see the Orange Daggertail from earlier, snarling and kicking at the dirt as it emerges from the tree line.
And it looks pissed.
The Green (I glance to the tail of the dragon that just fucking talked to me as if that was completely normal) Swordtail stands tall, raising her head as she settles herself above me. Almost like she’s… claiming me.
They’re definitely communicating to one another as snarls and growls fill the space between them. The Orange begins to look more and more hostile, maybe even a bit rabid with blood soaking its teeth. I quickly get to my feet, backing into the Green since she saved my life already. She might do it again.
The leaves of the trees rustle and the branches bend as the wind picks up. My hair whips in my face just as a large shadow soars above before landing between the Orange and the Green. Shimmering sapphire scales that end with a tail in the shape of a club sit before me and the Green. A Blue Clubtail. And it’s the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen. It’s stunning.
The Green Swordtail isn’t happy to see whoever this is, that much is obvious. She snarls and bends forward to flash her teeth at the Blue. The Blue whips around as if chastising the Green.
I look up at my dragon. “Is he a threat too?”
The Green huffs. “One of the most stubborn, territorial, protective, and dangerous males in the Empyrean.”
I nod. “So, you’re not on good terms, I take it?”
“He interferes to protect us.”
I furrow my brows. Why would he do that?
As if in answer to my question, a cadet slides down the leg of the Blue dragon with ease. As if he’s done this a hundred times. Sandy-brown hair whips in the wind as he races towards me.
My heart pounds in my chest erratically at the sight. Aaric.
Unbidden, tears spring to my eyes as he rushes to me. I take quick stock of his body, noticing only a few cuts and fresh-blooming bruises before he tackles me into a hug. I laugh into the embrace, a tear falling down my cheek as he holds me.
The embrace is so familiar that it brings me back to every moment I’ve ever held him. Every breath, laugh, and smile I’ve shared with him.
He’s here. He’s alive. I’m alive.
I grip him like my life depends on it, gasping a sob into his shoulder. I don’t even care if dragons surround us, not even if this Orange attacks us while we hold one another. Nothing matters but Aaric.
I can feel his arms touching me in various places to ensure I’m all here. That I’m whole and uninjured. I smile before a blush rushes to my cheeks when his hands find purchase low on my hips.
“Are you alright?” He says into my ear. “Molvic warned me you’d be dead if-“
I pull back, smiling at him. “Molvic? You bonded?”
He nods, looking over his shoulder at the Blue Clubtail. Molvic. “He found me.”
Like she found me.
Molvic growls again, this time, raising his body to stand over the Orange in an obvious play for dominance. I notice the Green above me shake her head as if she’s rolling her eyes at him.
The Orange cowers before snarling again, lunging forward and snapping its teeth. The Green snaps back, but Molvic intervenes and cuts the Orange off.
Aaric shifts me further behind him as he turns to face the scene. I gasp as Molvic snaps his teeth inches from the Orange’s throat. He roars in its face, loud enough to make both Aaric and I cover our ears. The Orange finally relents before readying its wings and taking off into the sky.
Aaric’s tight grip slackens as the Orange fades from view and we’re left with Molvic and the Green.
“Did he just save us?” I question aloud.
“His involvement makes me look weak,” the Green snarls in my head. “I can protect my own.”
“We flew over as fast as we could,” Aaric turns back to me, only now noticing the blood staining my chin. His fingers automatically touch the skin, sending a jolt of awareness through me. “What the hell? Are you okay?”
I shrug. “It’s not mine.”
Aaric raises a brow before surveying the area around us, catching sight of the two dead cadets and the blood soaking the ground. “What happened?”
“They cornered me, followed me, maybe they were even hunting me,” I shrug before bending down to retrieve one of my fallen knives. “Either way, they’re dead and I’m alive.”
Aaric stares at me. “Obviously.”
His gaze finds the knife embedded into the crotch of Burned Guy’s dead body, and his eyes go comically large. “Holy shit, Y/N.”
“The prick deserved it for pulling my hair. I even warned him that would happen.” I nod to the other dead cadet. “Big Nose was harder to take down.”
Aaric whips around to me. “Big Nose?”
“Didn’t really have time to ask for his name while he tried to slit my throat, you know?”
Aaric tenses, his eyes honing in on my exposed neck. “Did he hurt you?”
I step closer to reach for his tightly closed fist. I smooth my fingers over his skin until he finally opens his and wraps them around mine.
I won’t ever lie to him. “Yes, he did. They both did.”
Aaric’s posture is rigid from the confession. If the cadets weren’t already dead, they’d be slaughtered by now. By his hand. The overprotective bastard.
“Did they suffer?”
I smile, squeezing his hand. “You bet.”
He relaxes slightly. “Good.”
The snarling of the dragons behind us has us turning to look at them. Whatever conversation they’re having is not going well.
“You think your dragon is going to kill mine?” Aaric whispers under his breath.
I shake my head, warmth spreading through me as he claims the Green as mine. “She’ll kick his ass, just like I can kick yours.”
That makes Aaric smirk. “Try taking me on tomorrow, and we’ll see about that.”
The snapping and gnashing of teeth have us tensing as the Green whips her tail around to face away from the Blue. Molvic closes his eyes as if he’s frustrated.
“Guess our dragons aren’t friends,” I whisper.
“Molvic and I can hear you,” the dragon hisses in my mind. I startle at her clipped tone. “Also, I have a name. I am Kesilarryium, Sword of the Realm. Not “the Green” as you keep calling me.”
A chill runs down my spine from her full name, just as warmth rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing like being called out by your own bonded dragon.
I try to attempt her name in my mind, but she stops me.
“Call me Kesi.”
A strange, overwhelming sense of rightness fills me, as if her name and our bond are something I’ve been missing for years. I feel found, whole.
“As do I,” her tone is softer now as her large eyes snap to mine. “And to be clear, Molvic and I are not friends,” she sneers at the Blue who bows his head in submission as she flashes her teeth.
“We are mates.”
————
By the skin of my teeth, we make it to the flight field. I’m shocked I’m still breathing when Kesi lands. My teeth rattle in my skull from the force. I breathe deeply, staring out at the other dragons on the field. My fingers are raw and bleeding from holding onto her scales for dear life. The mud on my leathers is now fully dry and begins to crack as I maneuver myself off Kesi’s back. I practically fall from her leg before landing on my feet in the grass.
“We will have to work on your dismounting to ensure you do not break your neck.”
I wince. I guess it looked worse than I thought.
I catch sight of Molvic soaring overhead before landing next to Kesi with his wings fully extended. It looks like Kesi rolls her eyes as she shifts away from him. Molvic huffs, steam billowing from his nostrils as he stares at her in annoyance.
If I didn’t know they were mates, I’d assume they hate each other.
Mates. The word echoes in my head like a church bell. They’re rare and unheard of nowadays. The only mates I’ve heard of are Violet’s and Xaden Riorson’s dragons. At least Aaric and I are in the same year, so it won’t be difficult to deal with a mating bond.
Kesi growls low at Molvic, who huffs smoke in her face.
Oh gods, if they keep this up, they’re going to prove me wrong.
Aaric comes into view on Molvic’s shoulder before he slides down his dragon’s front leg and lands gracefully, to my utter annoyance.
“Of course you’re a natural at this,” I shake my head.
Aaric gives me a cocky grin as he comes to stand with me. “Jealous?”
I give him a sly smirk. “Why should I be jealous of a royal know-it-all?”
“Just admit it,” he winks. “I’m good at everything.”
I roll my eyes. “Not everything.”
His eyes slide to my mouth, causing my breath to get caught in my throat. ”Care to find out?”
Holy shit.
My pulse is racing as Aaric takes a step closer. I’m very, very, aware of every single part of him as his fingers come up to move a strand of loose hair out of my face.
“I was terrified I wouldn’t make it in time,” he whispers. “Molvic was super cryptic and made it seem like you were close to dying and—“ he visibly swallows, my eyes tracking the movement. “I couldn’t stand the idea of it.”
My eyes slowly meet his. “Of what?”
His green eyes are dark and enticing as he breathes out, “Losing you.”
His hand reaches up, sliding across my cheek. From months of hard training, his skin is calloused. It’s rough and warm against my skin, but comforting all the same.
I lean into him, gazing up through my lashes. “I thought I’d lose you too.”
The confession hangs heavy between us as we stare. As if gravity pulls us together, my face lies inches from his. Any closer and my lips would be—
“Uh, are your dragons alright?”
The voice startles us, springing us apart. I look over to see Sloane staring up at Kesi and Molvic, oblivious to what she just interrupted.
I can’t even meet Aaric’s eyes as warmth floods me. Gods, did we almost just—?
“We think they’re fighting,” Aaric coughs out, his voice strange and thick. “They’re mates.”
Sloane’s eyes are huge as she looks at the both of us. “Mates?! Holy shit.”
I nod, my cheeks still flaming, but I press on, still not looking at Aaric. “Yeah, it was a surprise to us, too.”
She looks between us for a moment before a smile curves her lips. “Honestly? Makes sense this would happen to you two.”
I tense. “What?”
Just before she answers, Rhiannon Matthias calls all the first-year cadets to attention, motioning over to the Scribe table where they’ll record our bonded dragons’ names. I catch sight of Violet standing next to her, who’s beaming at me. I smile back.
Aaric is at my side again, this time looking flustered. He won’t meet my eyes as he nods to the end of the field. “Guess we should—“
“Yeah,” I rush, interrupting him awkwardly.
Silence blankets us for a moment before Aaric begins walking ahead of me, his fists tight and shoulders bunched. I wonder why he’s so uptight.
“Your mate is frustrated he did not get the chance to kiss you.”
I startle, whirling to stare up at Kesi in bewilderment. My what?!
If dragons had eyebrows, she’d surely be raising hers at me. “Your mate. Your partner. Your lover. Whatever you humans like to call your significant others.”
I trip over my boots, catching myself before I fall into the dirt. Aaric?! He’s not my mate! He-he’s my best friend.
Kesi just stares at me. “The prince tried to kiss you.”
I shake my head. No, he didn’t. Nothing happened.
“You are in denial. Lying to yourself does you no favors, Y/N.”
I balk.
“Molvic agrees.”
I glare up at her. Don’t you dare give me relationship advice when you clearly are having issues with your own mate.
“So you agree, the prince is your mate?”
No!
I stomp away from her, frustration wracking up my spine as I find Aaric in the crowd of cadets lined before the waiting Scribes. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched as if he, too, seems to be arguing with Molvic like I was with Kesi.
When his eyes meet mine, my stomach drops. I truly think I’m imagining the longing shining in his eyes. The obvious regret of something I wish I understood.
I tear my gaze away, panting. If my feelings for Aaric were complicated before, now it’s worse with two nosey dragons in our business.
We’re friends.
Friends.
I keep chanting it to myself to keep the doubt at bay. I’ve had years to keep my feelings hidden, ensuring Aaric never knows how I feel about him. It’s better if I get a grip on myself before it leads to eventual heartbreak.
We’re just friends. Right?
————
• moodboard of Kesi & Molvic below •
the fanart of Aaric is by etherealbookart, all other images are from Pinterest
Taglist: @bookishnerd1132 @abysshaven
@annthepenguin
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Dain knows how to cook. Nobody knows. His father insisted he learn basic survival skills including cooking (basics) and he enjoyed that part so much he kinda went overboard.
When extremely plastered (in Aretia), Sloane Mairi suddenly decided that the dragons looked lonely and needed hugs, so she naturally when to do just that. Dain was the only one who succeeded in dragging her away from a very exhasperated Thoirt, an amused Andarna and a long suffering Cath who all decided to "sacrifice" themselves so she wouldn't get roasted by a far less amused dragon. This happens at least once a week, less often when in Basgiath, but only because it's harder to get to the dragons.
The only reason Sloane can get hammered so consistently is because all second squad first years meet once a week for a "game night" that devolves rapidly when someone suggests something a bit more fun.
Avalynn drinks the most, Aaric is a two and done cause someone's gotta be responsible. Lynx provided the alcohol and drinks a quarter of it minimum. Baylor is a lightweight and Kai is a horny drunk.
Speaking of Lynx, he has no less than 15 bottles hidden in various clever hideyholes in his room plus a few more around both Basgiath and Aretia. Dain knows where all of them are. Dain pretends not to know and occasionally swipes one of them as compensation if the first years have been particularly trying that week.
The morning after "game nights" Aaric wakes his squadmates up with hangover tonics and breakfast in bed. If in Aretia, breakfast will include the fluffiest most delicious pancakes known to mankind, promptly commandeered by Sloane, who will actually bite anyone attempting to take a bite of her pancakes. Dain may or may not have made the pancakes himself. Sloane will never know. Aaric takes credit. He might have been bribed to do so. Allegedly.
The whole subterfuge over who actually makes the pancakes (and the rest of the Aretian post game night breakfast) gets discovered two days before Dain graduates.
When Dain graduates, he passes onto Rhiannon the knowledge of where all of Lynx's bottles are because "you'll need it".
Aaric demands to know how Dain actually gets Sloane to cooperate on getting away from hugging the dragons, because every time he's tried he's been unsuccessful and the two times he saw it in a vision, the dragons taking off drowned out what was being said. The answer? Tyrrish. You gotta talk in Tyrrish.
The first time Aaric attempts this after Dain has graduated and happens to be on a mission somewhere, Sloane promptly breaks down in heart wrenching sobs and Aaric has to physically carry her back to her room, bridal style. After a bit, still sobbing, a still very much sloshed Sloane manages to get out that he did it wrong. When Aaric tried to get a now hungover Sloane to explain how the hell did he speak Tyrrish wrong (his accent was flawles, his grammar impeccable) it took 3 hours and a lot of blushing to explain that, essentially, he wasn't Dain and therefore didn't sound like Dain. And also he used the wrong terms of endearment. Aaric didn't get the chance to get it right, as Sloane stopped going to hug the dragons.
Once a bit more comfortable with each other, Jesinia decides to teach Sawyer how to sign a full sentence without telling him what it means. She doesn't tell him until he can sign it properly. The phrase is make a professional whore blush level of inappropriate. Jesinia does this to get Sawyer to blush cause she thinks it's adorable. She does it twice more (different days) before Sawyer decides to take the erotic sentences as requests and proceeds to fullfill them to the best of his abilities. By the time they're married this has become a fun way for Jessinia to request some more salacious bedroom activities that she may or may not have read in a book somewhere. For educational purposes of course. If he's already familiar with the signs, Sawyer feigns ignorance until she explains.
At some point during the war, Jessinia does something heroic that impresses the dragons (defending hatchlings or something equally big, dragons aren't easily impressed) and recieves a gift as gratitude. Sliseag does the honours (that's his rider's mate thank you very much). She gets marked in both arms in a similar way to the apostasy kids, except hers are the same shade or Red as Sawyer's relic, and go from just before her elbows down to her wrist and in a vaguely arrow like shape on the back of her hands.
The gift allows her to speak with Sliseag in a similar way Violet could speak to Sgaeyl. After she gets used to this for a bit, Sliseag points to the little pathway that connects her to Sawyer, giving Jesinia a way to fulfill her biggest wish: to hear Sawyer's voice.
Sawyer is delighted when he discovers this side effect of the gift. They use it often so Jessinia can hear sounds she's been curious about but mostly so she can listen to music. Ridoc joked once about his own voice luring Jesinia away because it was just that sexy. Jessinia responded with something along the lines of "hell no it's not" but bitchier somehow.
Sawyer writes poetry. He has it in a little notebook he keeps on his person at all times, mostly cause he doesn't trust Ridoc not to go through his things and find it. He'd never let him live it down.
The poetry notebook falls to the floor one day as he climbs Sliseag when he has to take off fast for some mission or other and he doesn't notice. If Sliseag notices, he doesn't say. Jesinia notices and picks it up, intending to give it back later.
She really didn't mean to snoop, honest, but she's a scribe and she's curious and after taking a peak at the first one she kinda can't help herself. It's good. Really good.
There's poetry about everything you can think about. War, loss, friendship, even one that Jessinia suspects is actually about his dragon. There's also a couple dozen at least about love, hinting at some mysterious alluring captivating woman and some seem to hint whatever feelings are being reflected in the pages are not reciprocated. Jesinia is not jealous. At All. She just doesn't think this mysterious tramp deserves him in the slightest. That's all. Really.
By the time she returns the little poem book to him, Jessinia has gone through 17 stages of grief, multiple cycles of self doubt and managed to fret herself into low self esteem. She gives none of that away. Sawyer proceeds to somehow look simultanously embarrased, horrified and hopeful, and his face is so red it's making Sliseag look pink next to him. Jesinia doesn't stay to chat.
Sawyer spends almost two weeks trying to determine if Jesinia has in fact read the poems and what she thinks about them (embarrassment be damned, he actually meant every word) but every attempt to bring up the subject ends with either her pretending she can't see him sign or suddenly being busy or needed elsewhere.
Finally he manages to corner her and sit her down and talk about the damn notebook with the stupid love poems. Turns out it had never occured to Jesinia she might actually be said mysterious alluring captivating woman (the poems don't give enough hints of the physical appearance or anything that would outright point to her) and had been heartbroken thinking Sawyer was in love with someone else and she had misread the situation. Sawyer takes the best part of a whole afternoon showing her how much she had not misread the situation in the slightest before they actually discuss what she actually thought of the poems. He does make her promise not to tell Ridoc about them. Ridoc already knows about them but is saving the info for a rainy day.
Speaking of Ridoc, he's an excellent dancer and more flexible than you'd initially think. Those skills translate well into the bedroom.
The way the squad finds out about this is when a slightly more than tipsy Ridoc attempts to dance with the entire squad, succeeds in dragging an equally tipsy Maren into the center of the room and proceeds to wow all of them. She still refuses to go back to his room for another type of demonstration.
There used to be a rider whose signet was being able to transfer memories into paper, creating instan portraits (much like a camera works). She's the reason why an old colleague of General Sorrengail had a bunch of portraits, that she may have managed to deliver to Mira one way or another. Second squad spends a quiet free afternoon cooing over portraits of a 7 year old Dain with a mop of unruly curls on top of a 5ft pillar smirking in victory and satisfaction at having "conquered" the summit, little Dain and Tiny Violet arms around each other cheek to cheek and smiling widely, 15 year old Brennan trying and failing to look like anything other than an awkward teen, Mira and Brennan clearly arguing about something while Violet pouts next to them, and Dain (from the top) and Brennan (from the bottom) helping Violet get on top of the first pillar.
After the portraits, General Aetos has now 5-6 new plans for an untimely death made for him exclusively because "how can you look at that face and think Imma screw this kid up so bad his anxiety has anxiety?". Sloane's plan is the most violent. Aaric agrees to issue a pardon to her if she sees it through and lets him watch.
Another side effect of the portraits is that the first years (and Ridoc) are now curious about what their wingleader would look like without the beard. Dain refuses to shave it. There's multiple attempts to persuade him otherwise, including coercion and goading. Aaric also tries bribery.
Sloane is the only one weaved into Dain's wards because after a lecture one day she decided to mess with his very carefully arranged stuff and he noticed she was like 25% less aggressive the rest of the day and he decided him being inconvenienced for 10 minutes whenever she was pissed was better than having to physically stop her from fighting half the quadrant every half hour (also because he's totally in love with her and loves having her in his space but he's not admitting to that even under torture).
This and a particularly strong pain tonic after Dain gets injured on patrol, is how the first years get their wish of a beardless wingleader. Someone got into the wingleaders room while he was nearly comatose from the painkiller and managed to shave enough of said beard that the only way to fix the mess was to properly shave it all off. It took a whole week to regrow to a decent enough level and 3 to restore to pre shaving conditions.
Turns out Beardless Dain looks mostly like a very big very muscular very pissed off teenager. Sloane is unaware he knows it was her (or that she was at the very least an accomplice) because Sloane has been operating under the assumption that Dain's room isn't warded.
Cath treats all future Slain children as if they were his hatchlings and will actually let them crawl all over him while pretending to be annoyed. No one believes his protests. He's gentle enough with Liam, but positively soft with the girls. He has nicknames for all 3 children and they get used more than their actual names.
Sliseag treats Jesinia as if she was Sawyer's mate (in the dragon sense). He becomes protective of her in a would be nonchalant way. He also claims if she had chosen to become a rider and had been found worthy she would have surely bonded a red. Reds are the superior choice after all.
Aaric's future wife is gonna be a navarrian scribe or something similar from one of the other countries.
Halden will either not live long enough to become king or get assasinated shortly after ascending the throne (shortest reign in Navarre's history). Aaric is gonna be pissed about this because his moron brother didn't manage to get married, much less reproduce properly before dying (there's rumours of a couple bastards somewhere and Aaric is tempted to just find them and legitimise them).
