#fourth wing fluff

“[Y/N]!” she swats you with one of your pale white gloves you left on the vanity. “You told me you were over this. You told me you’d accepted your fate!”

You groan, fists clenching. “Yes, well, that was when it still hadn’t felt… real. But, now that I’m sitting here in this stupid white dress—”

“—you mean beautiful—”

“—and getting my hair done and veil perfected and bouquet wrapped… Mariona, I can’t do this!” And that’s the first time in three months you’ve admitted it out loud because, over the course of that time, you really did try. Try to accept your role as an eligible Lady of Arkala, try to accept that you would soon become wife of the Navarrian heir, try to accept the fact that this was how life went in a a society like your’s.

Your friend holds your gaze for a moment, clearly trying to find the proper response to your outburst, but you both know there’s nothing that can fix this. You’re getting married whether you want to or not, and worse you’re getting married to Halden Tauri.

It truly is ironic that the Tauri family somehow possessed both your top and worst options.

Mariona seems to read your mind, though, and the next question uttered from her lips is, “You’ve spoken to Cam recently, haven’t you?”

Well, call her a mind reader.

At your lack of an answer, she throws her hands up in frustration. “I told you to stay away! That, if you thought marrying his brother was already hard enough, then seeing him would only make it harder!” She groans, sitting back in a chair and dropping her face into her hands. “This is not good.”

You’re inclined to agree, but you keep your mouth shut to avoid getting a shoe thrown at your face.

A moment passes, and then another, until finally—

“What’d he say?”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. That is not the follow-up you’d expected her to ask.

But, even so, you slowly find your words. “Well,” you start, biting your bottom lip, “he kind of found me sitting on the balcony—”

“The one that you guys have met on since you were children?” When you nod, she rolls her eyes. “So, he found you, but you wanted him to.” Well, she just read you to filth, but you ignore her words and continue.

“He found me and sat next to me, and we kind of just reminisced about growing up together—”

Somehow, she drops her head even deeper into her palms. “Oh, gods.”

“And then we talked about the next part of our lives, how everything’s changing, then I mentioned the wedding—mostly about how weird it’s gonna be as his sister-in-law—”

“—Yeah, no fucking kidding, Captain Obvious! Of course it’ll be weird if your former secret girlfriend married your asshole older brother—”

You continue to ignore her. “—and he just… went off. About how I shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t marry Halden. He talked about how we shouldn’t have to follow our parents rules.” You blink, and tears gloss your eyes. “He talked about our childhood dream to run off and join the circus. To get out of here. And then he…” you bite your lip right before the words fall out.

Mariona scoots forward in her seat, eyes wide. “He what? What did he say?”

“You have to swear yourself to secrecy, Mar,” you whisper, adjusting your own position so you hang off the edge, leaning forward and holding out a pinky. When she wraps her own around it, a solemn nod following, you let out a heavy breath. “He’s joining the rider’s quadrant.”

She gapes, a hand pressed to her chest. “He’s what?”

You shake your head, sitting back now, and your just realize how empty the room is. You bring a hand up to find your hair completely pinned, and your stomach churns. There’s not much time before they’ll summon you.

“Tomorrow’s Conscription Day. So, he’s going to run off and join. Once he’s through and bonded…” she shakes her head. “There’s not much his father can do.”

Mariona leans back, eyes closing as she collects her thoughts. “And that’s all he said?” The way she asks… she already knows the answer. She already knows there’s more. Cam and [Y/N] were never… simple. Or easy. Not when she’d been destined to marry his brother. And yet, they fell in love anyway.

You look at your hands once again. “He told me, ‘Don’t marry him.’” Your gaze flicks up. “He told me to come with him.”

Before Mariona even has a chance to reply, the door busts open, and you each jump up. Your hand clutches your necklace nervously and meet the gaze of the Infantry awaiting you. You don’t need him to tell you to come with him—you already know.

And slowly, you rise, the skirt of the white ballgown falling beneath you and covering your feet. You pull the gloves on, blink away your tears, and hold Mariona’s gaze as she pins the veil across your face.

“You look beautiful,” she whispers, tears now clouding her own eyes, and then she turns away.

Before you know it, you’re standing alone at the doors of the cathedral.

Most of the ceremony goes by in a… blur of sorts. As soon as the music starts playing, as soon as the doors swing open and your father grabs your arm to lead you down the aisle, it all becomes background noise.

You plaster a fake, trained smile across your lips—the one you’ve perfected throughout your entire childhood—and you listen to the lengthy speech the priest has planned for you. It’s a Royal Wedding, after all.

Guests stand, they sit, they stand, they sit. The orchestra plays gorgeous Navarrian tunes. They worship the gods and pray to them. And Halden smiles the entire time, bright eyed and looking at the crowd, and you remember… he’s always been a convincing performer.

But you don’t miss the look he gives you. Empty, careless. You may be his legal wife, but he knows much about mistresses.

And even though you’ve never liked him, your heart clenches just the same.

During another unnecessarily long prayer, you manage to finally cast a glance to the front row in the nave. There, you spot your parents watching you with bright eyes, Mariona with a sad smile, the King and Queen, and then—

Your breath catches as your eyes meet Cam’s.

Your connected gaze remains that way for what feels like several minutes, but is more close to around five seconds. And yet, those seconds—as eternal as they seem—are the best few seconds of this entire ceremony.

You manage to keep your gaze held on either Halden or the Priest until you reach the vows.

Your heart jumps to your throat, but to your relief, the Priest turns toward Halden first.

“Do you, Halden Tauri, heir of Navarre, take Lady [Y/N] [L/N] of Arkala as your lawful wife, to stand beside her in prosperity and hardship, in peace and in war, until the gods call you both home?”

Halden doesn’t even hesitate, a charming—fake—grin upturning the corners of his mouth.

“I do.”

Two words.

That’s all it takes.

Two words, and suddenly this is real.

The priest turns toward you, and the world itself seems to stop turning, his kind, wrinkled eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “And do you, [Y/N] [L/N], take Prince Halden Tauri of Navarre as your lawful husband, to stand beside him in prosperity and hardship, in peace and in war, until the gods call you both home?”

Your mouth opens.

But nothing comes out.

You mean to say something—truly, you do. And yet, all that’s left is silence. Silence that somehow echoes across the open Cathedral, that turns seconds of waiting into eons for the hundreds of eyes that watch you.

Your eyes dart to your family in the front row. Your father, who’s holding your mother’s hand. Your mother, who leans forward just slightly in anticipation. Mariona, who looks like she might burst into tears.

You try again now, about to face forward and say the forbidden words, but this time a voice in your head stops you. A voice from a few nights ago, a memory that you know would haunt you for the rest of your days.

Don’t marry him, [Y/N].

Come with me.

Your fingers curl around the bouquet, and you let your eyes find Halden again. He’s smiling—of course he is—and it’s that same artificial, practiced smile, polished and perfect for the kingdom to see. The smile of a man who has never once had to wonder whether he would get everything he wanted.

And in that moment, you realize something.

You have spent three months trying to convince yourself that you could survive this. That you could be his wife. That you could wake up every morning and pretend this was the life you wanted.

But you don't want it. You never did. You never will.

“I…” your voice cracks, and Halden’s smile falters. Your eyes flicker to the Priest who stands patiently awaiting your response.

You look down to the flowers again, swallowing, and you take a small step back before meeting his gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

Instantly, a murmur rolls through the Cathedral.

“What?” Halden hisses at you, his face suddenly changed from charismatic to hardened. Angry. He isn’t used to… this. To being rejected—and worse, being rejected in public. Anger flickers through his eyes.

You shake your head, taking another step back as soon as his hand wraps around your wrist. “I can’t,” you whisper.

And even though you said it quietly, it seems that everyone heard it—even in the very back of the room.

“[Y/N],” your father bites out quietly, and you look to find him and your mother, horror written all over their faces.

Yet you don’t care. Because beside them, Mariona looks… proud. And a few seats down from her—

You finally find Cam’s eyes once again.

And they’re lit up with joy.

Instantly, you drop your bouquet, and it hits the marble floor with a pathetic thud. Then, you lift your skirt with your now freed hands, kick off your heels so you can move faster, and begin to make your way down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell your parents as you pass by them, but the words echo through the room, and gasps echo from every corner.

Before you know it, you’re running.

As you make your way down the aisle—a bit more chaotically than how you entered through it—you can hear your name screamed. You think it’s your mother. You can hear the strings squeak in the orchestra before they fall to an awkward pause between songs. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

But you feel more free than you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

When you finally reach the double-doors, you manage to take one last glance over your shoulder, and the image that greets you is only rivalled by ancient artwork.

Halden stands next to the still-smiling Priest, looking incredulous and disturbed as ever. Your mother and father clutch each other in disbelief. Mariona is smiling with tears in her eyes. Every wedding guest is shouting and gasping and gossiping. And Cam… Cam is giving you a look worth a thousand words.

He turns to look at you with the goofiest grin— one you have never seen before. “Hey, ___! How did you get here so fast?”

The guy next to him rolls his eyes and drags Xaden into the apartment, getting him seated on the couch before turning to you and extending a hand. “Hey, ___, I’m Liam. We went out for drinks after work and, well,” He gestures at Xaden who is now asleep with his head back and his mouth slightly open.

You turn back to Liam and feel a slight blush creep up your neck. He is gorgeous. His blonde hair falls in soft waves just over his eyes and the dazzling smile he gives you reveals a single dimple on his left cheek. Most beautiful of all, though, is probably his soft blue eyes— the color of a clear summer day. You shake your head, a blush warming your cheeks in earnest now, and smile back. “Nice to meet you Liam. Thanks for making sure he gets home safe.”

“Yeah, for sure. I have to go though,” he gestures at himself, “I’m DD, and I have a couple other stops to make.” He makes his way to the front door and you walk with him.

“Good night,” You say, keeping the door slightly open as he makes his way to his car. He waves as he drives off and you wave back, turning back to Xaden and closing the door behind you.

Xaden is looking at you now, head still leaned back but tilted to the side so he can face you.

“Oh you’re awake,” You say around a smile.

“Do you like him?” The question is so abrupt it catches you completely off guard.

“W-what?”

“Liam. Did you like him?” You move to sit on the couch next to him and he follows your movements with his eyes.

“I mean, he seems really nice.” And he’s cute. “But I just met him, I mean, we just met.”

“That’s the answer to a different question.” His voice is too quiet, the slur almost imperceptible, and the way he looks at you makes you look down at your hands as they rest on your lap.

You scramble for what to say back, not sure where the question came from or what answer he expects. You turn to him, opening your mouth to ask, but you close it when you realize he fell asleep again. You smile, reaching for the remote. Probably just drunken talk, you think to yourself as you click on the next episode of the show.

Halfway through the second episode, Xaden shifts and lies down on the couch on his back, his long legs hanging over the side, his head resting on your lap. You start to reach for him, to push a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, and stop. Your heart pounds in your chest and you don’t know why. You pause the show and get up from the couch, careful not to wake him, and drape the throw blanket you’d been using before over him. You turn off the lights and make your way to your room, unsure why your heart is still racing, and go to bed.

Xaden Riorson:

Strawberry Lips (f): Xaden wants a kiss, but the reader is wearing lip gloss

‘I’ is Important (f): You just love to annoy Xaden

ִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊⭒أִׄ˚•𖥔࣪˖⭑₊

Liam Mairi:

Every night, you curl up beneath the covers, but it’s not the same. There’s no Ridoc grumbling about how you’re a blanket thief, no sleep-mumbled jokes about dragons snoring louder than Xaden, and no lazy morning kisses before the day drags you both into the chaos of Basgiath.

You miss the way he always, always found a way to touch you, even in sleep—an arm slung over your waist, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. Without him, the nights stretch unbearably long, and no amount of blankets can replace the warmth he brings.

So when Rhiannon and Violet tell you he’s back and has a surprise for you, you don’t think. You run.

The Vale is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wings and the deep, rumbling breaths of resting dragons. The air is crisp, carrying the familiar scent of smoke and earth. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation thrumming through your veins as your eyes scan the open space.

Then, you see him.

Ridoc stands beside Aotrom, his brown hair messier than usual—probably from the wind, or from running his hands through it nervously. He’s shifting from foot to foot, the way he always does when he’s excited but trying and failing to play it cool.

Your breath catches, and before you can call out his name, Aotrom lifts his head, lets out a soft huff, and shifts to the side—revealing something burned into the ground.

You blink. Then take a step closer.

I LOVE YO

You tilt your head. Something’s… missing.

Ridoc turns, his face lighting up the moment he sees you. “Y/N!” His entire body practically vibrates with energy, and before you can say anything, he gestures toward the ground with both hands. “Ta-da!”

Your gaze flicks back to the message. The last letter is definitely missing.

Slowly, you lift an eyebrow. “Ridoc,” you say, voice thick with amusement, “where’s the ‘U’?”

Ridoc freezes. “Wait, what?” He whips around, eyes scanning the scorched words. The moment he notices, he groans dramatically and drags a hand down his face. “Oh, come on!”

Aotrom lets out a very unbothered-sounding snort.

Ridoc turns on his dragon, hands on his hips. “Dude. You had one job.”

Aotrom flicks his tail, the picture of innocence.

You cross your arms, biting back a grin. “Ridoc,” you repeat, “why is there no ‘U’?”

Ridoc sighs, shooting Aotrom another look before turning back to you. “Okay, so technically the ‘U’ was there… but right as Aotrom was finishing it, he saw a sheep on one of the lower fields and, uh… immediately took off.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re telling me your dragon abandoned your romantic gesture for a sheep?”

Ridoc throws his hands up. “He really likes sheep, Y/N! I can’t control his cravings!”

Aotrom rumbles contentedly, as if to confirm this fact.

You press a hand to your mouth, but the laughter breaks free anyway. “Only you, Ridoc.”

Ridoc grins, clearly relieved you’re laughing instead of being upset. Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly produces a bouquet from behind his back. “Okay, so the message is a little… incomplete, but this survived.” He steps closer, pressing the flowers into your hands. “Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

Your fingers tighten around the bouquet, your heart swelling. “Happy anniversary, Ridoc.”

His usual playful smirk softens into something more sincere. “Gods, I missed you.” His voice drops slightly, and his eyes roam over your face like he’s memorizing every detail. “Sleeping alone is the worst. Do you know how many times I woke up reaching for you, only to grab a pillow?”

Your chest tightens. “I know,” you admit. “I kept waking up cold.”

Ridoc groans dramatically, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in. “That’s it, I’m never leaving again. Two weeks is way too long. I almost died, Y/N. Died.”

You snort, resting your head against his shoulder. “From what? Sheep deprivation?”

“Exactly!” he exclaims before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His voice drops to something softer, more serious. “I love you. Even if Aotrom forgot the ‘U.’”

You smile, reaching up to brush his messy hair from his face. “I got the message.”

Ridoc watches you for a beat, his expression shifting, turning softer, more intense. Then he cups your face, his palms warm and slightly rough from training. “Can I kiss you now?”

You laugh, but it comes out breathless. “I think you’re required to.”

He doesn’t waste a second.

Ridoc leans in, and the moment his lips press against yours, everything else fades away—the teasing, the missing letter, the two agonizing weeks apart. He kisses you slowly at first, like he’s savoring the

’s trying to make up for every second you spent apart. Then, as if he can’t help himself, he deepens it, tilting his head to fit his lips against yours more perfectly. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Your fingers tangle in his messy hair, and he lets out a quiet, contented sigh against your lips. The warmth of him, the way he tastes like fresh air and something undeniably Ridoc, makes your head spin.

When he finally pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his breath slightly uneven. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice full of wonder, “definitely never leaving for that long again.”

You smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “You better not.”

Ridoc sighs dramatically, pulling you into his chest again. “I suffered, Y/N. Two weeks without you? Pure agony.”

You laugh softly, letting yourself sink into him. “Oh, the horror.”

Ridoc grins. “You joke, but do you know how many times I woke up thinking you were there? Only to grab a pillow?” He shudders. “It was tragic.”

“I do know,” you admit, voice quieter now. “Because it was the same for me.”

His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, he just holds you, warm and solid and here.

Then, as if unable to help himself, he presses another kiss to your temple. “You’re not sleeping alone tonight.”

The certainty in his voice sends warmth curling through you.

“Good,” you murmur. “Because I was not looking forward to another cold bed.”

Ridoc hums, tugging you toward Aotrom. “Then let’s get out of here. I already suffered through two weeks without you—I’m not wasting another second.”

Aotrom lets out an exaggerated sigh, as if deeply inconvenienced by his rider’s affection. But even as he huffs dramatically, his tail flicks in amusement, his green eyes twinkling.

You glance at the scorched I LOVE YO on the ground one last time, shaking your head fondly. “Still can’t believe Aotrom abandoned romance for a sheep.”

Ridoc groans. “Don’t remind me. I’m gonna have to do something even bigger next year to make up for it.”

You smirk. “Well, you could start by actually spelling out the whole thing next time.”

Ridoc laughs, scooping you up onto Aotrom’s back before climbing up behind you. As his arms wrap securely around your waist, he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, voice warm against your skin.

“Next time, I’ll make sure the whole kingdom knows just how much I love you.”