Chapter Text
Maybe I wouldn’t have annoyed Xaden so much during my first year if I knew this is what he felt like.
Having a whole wing to watch over is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ve done many, many stressful things. Between leadership meetings and organizing things for my cadet’s, I hardly have time to even get to bed at night. And there’s also Tyrrendor, which is technically mine to manage too, but Xaden’s been doing most of the details with that. Which I am forever grateful for.
After one of the most exhausting days of my life, in which I had to sit through a 2 hour long leadership meeting that started at 6 AM and where I also had to listen to the Wingleader of Second Wing talk about how we had to be keeping our cadets in line.
Like I was the one who’s wing had a massive fight break out in the middle of breakfast today.
There was the meeting, and then there was scheduling times for my squads to go practice on the Gauntlet, and trudging up the stairs- even as my joints screamed at me to stop,- up to the flight field to meet Tairn and Andarna. Then to the Archives to discuss things with Jesinia, where I then went to Xaden’s office to discuss Tyrrendor’s army and how many soldiers we’d actually need. Which feels like none, considering the fact the venin are gone and we have an alliance with both Navarre and Poromiel.
But when I finally got back to me and Xaden’s room at the end of the day, instead of collapsing into bed and falling asleep right then and there, I had to sit down at the big desk we share and fill out a form to tell them if I had any deceased cadets that day. I only had two, but it somehow took over 30 minutes to fill out a stupid form, because the questions were all dumb and useless and I didn’t see how they would help, because all they did in the morning was call out the person’s name for the last time.
So when I run the form to the General’s office, which is all the way across the school, I finally make it back to our room.
The second I open the door, I walk straight towards the bed and collapse face forward onto it. No words to Xaden, who is currently turning my face towards him and brushing my hair out of it.
“Tired?” He asks through the bond. I give him a sound of agreement.
He helps sit me up, propping me up on the pillows and reaching for my hair to start undoing it. He pulls the tie off of the simple braid I did that morning, running his fingers through the strands to loosen them.
After he does that, he stands up, and I almost whine in protest, but the sound stops in my throat as he walks into the bathroom, and I hear the familiar sound of the bath starting.
He comes back, with a towel in hand, and helps me get out of my clothes. Once naked, he scoops me up into his arms, carrying me towards the bathroom.
“Want to tell me how your day was?” He asks softly, setting me down on the edge of the tub for a second so he can check the water temperature with his hand.
“I was just juggling 10 things at once and didn’t have a second of free time. Plus, I was running on about 5 hours of sleep.” He lowers me into the warm water.
“I had that stupid meeting this morning, and then just forms all day. Not to mention, my first years are quite possibly the most annoying people ever. They won’t stop arguing at breakfast about who’s going to make it up the Gauntlet fastest, or about who’s going to bond the best dragon at Threshing.” Xaden takes a cloth, lathers it in soap, and begins washing me.
“There was also a fight between two squads in Second Wing today, which I somehow got involved in, when they’re not even my cadets. And I was just running back and forth across Basgiath to manage things, and my joints were killing me the whole time. Gods, what I wouldn’t give for a day off.”
I look up at Xaden, who has a concerned expression on his face, but also a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smirk pulling at his lips.
“What’s so funny?” I accuse, and his grin breaks free.
“Now you know what I felt like when I was Wingleader. And I had you annoying me, too.” He says. I almost roll my eyes, but then he tosses the cloth he was using to wash me back into the bath, and starts gently massaging at my muscles.
An indecent sound makes its way up my throat and out of my mouth.
“Fuck, that hurts so wonderfully. Thank you.”
“Anytime, love.”
Once he’s thoroughly massaged all of my muscles and my skin begins to prune, I get out of the bath. He grabs me a nightgown and underwear, helping me put them on before, again, carrying me back to the bed and tucking me in. He kisses my forehead, then my lips after I tilt my chin up in protest.
I’ve managed to roll over to his side of the bed and clutch his pillow in my arms by the time he returns to bed around an hour later, changed into his sleeping pants and showered. He has to pry it from my arms while I’m half awake, making me whine in frustration.
But that frustration dies down a moment later when he slips into bed beside me and pulls me onto his chest.
“Sweet dreams, Violence.”
I yawn. He plants a kiss on my forehead.
“I love you.” I mumble.
I can practically hear his grin when he responds, “I love you more.”