Chapter Text
Chapter 1 (Val)
"You don’t fear crossing the parapet, you fear falling."
-The book of Brennan, page 2
Conscription day is a special kind of hell.
I hated it as a candidate and I hate it even more now that I’m the one in charge of writing down the names of people who have a 15% probability of dying in their next few minutes.
My boyfriend and his cousin are beside me but even their company doesn’t help easing the tension in the air. It’s the same old theme of watching candidates fall off the parapet, even though some of them probably deserve it.
Some, in fact, do not. But I’ve been in this quadrant long enough to not let death get to me anymore, not let it bother me anymore.
Malek, the god of death, isn’t actually as bad as everyone believes. Trust me, I know it.
And still, I cannot bear to let people that I care about step into his arms, getting swept away by the peace that is death.
It’s up to all the dickheads out there to think of death as something horrible. It’s quite the opposite, freeing you from a hard life and when I was younger, quite tempting.
However, I would not dare to step into Malek’s arms willingly in the next few years.
Because no matter how shitty life gets, which is very, I still have people I care about and that I couldn’t leave alone, not that I want to.
I’m finally in my second year. I asked Xaden and he said that second year was definitely the best. Most of the benefits that the third years receive and less responsibility. Plus we get to command around the first years if we feel like it without anyone objecting.
Being a first year is, in my opinion, the worst of all three years you got to survive at Basgiath war college if you want to be a Lieutenant and dragon rider after graduation.
You only get a dragon half a year in and have to prove yourself over and fucking over again, all while knowing that some people here could squish you like a fucking ant if they feel like it.
Is it my problem now? Unfortunately yes.
Even if I’m not a first year myself anymore, I will still protect the other marked ones and even help them, willingly.
What I’ll do unwillingly is keeping alive the youngest daughter of a General that carved scars into my back like I was just a piece of wood.
A General that played a major role in the execution of the parents of 108 innocent children.
These 108 innocent children were about to get butchered for the ‘crimes’ of their parents, but I was able to string a deal and now I owe the General a favor, that she used to make me protect her daughter.
Violet Sorrengail.
I heard she is super fucking fragile, always hurt.
I frown, because how the hell am I going to keep a person like her alive?
“Get out of your thoughts, love.”, Xaden teases me and flicks his index finger against my forehead affectionately.
“Shut up, Riorson.”, I roll my eyes at him with no actual annoyance.
He lets out a short chuckle and I watch the amused look in his gold-flecked onyx eyes with delight. His happiness is my happiness. “Plans for today?”
At his words I feel my stomach rolling over with dread at what is yet to come. Standing at one end of the parapet means I’m able to help the other marked ones, but it also means I have to watch every single one of the failing candidates fall off the parapet.
“Keeping everyone alive, maybe?”
He knows I’m not actually talking about everyone whom we encounter here today, but only our people, the marked ones and, to my dismay, Violet Sorrengail. I’m counting on my hope that she isn’t some stuck up Bitch.
“Good resolution”, he hums in agreement. “Let’s hope it comes true.”
But we both recognize it probably won’t. However, no one voices the fact.
“Stop flirting, lovebirds, before you start making out and I’ll have to bleach my eyes!”, Bodhi calls out and puts a hand in front of his eyes, the gesture totally overexaggerated.
“You’re just sour no one wants to sleep with you.”, I shoot back and Xaden quietly lets out a poorly concealed snort, only audible for my ears.
“I have tons of people lining up for my bed.”, Bodhi puts particular pronunciation on the word ‘tons’.
“Mhm.”, I quip sarcastically. “Oh look. The first candidate.”, I say when I spot a gangly boy with freckles at the entrance of the turret.
“I don’t see anything.”, Bodhi doesn’t even try to.
“Probably because dear Val ‘borrowed’ a far-sight ability from that one guy that graduated last year.”, Xaden comments.
The guy wasn’t nice I have to say. Thinking back, getting that signet from him was quite complicated, although it does pose a useful addition to my reservoir. I believe that makes it worth the effort, does it not?
I sigh unapologetically. “You know me too well, sunshine.”
Finally the cadet I spotted earlier emerges from where the stairs connect with the platform of the turret.
He seems familiar.
Our conversation dies down. “Name?”, Bodhi asks.
“Sawyer Hendrick.”
I finally spot it. He’s one of the cadets that didn’t bond last year, but came out alive.
I write it down neatly and say: “Repeat, huh? Wish you luck, kid.”
He gives me a tight nod and follows through to step onto the parapet.
I see grey clouds in the sky. “It’s gonna rain in a couple hours, take or give.”, my expression sours as I point at where the clouds get slightly darker at the horizon.
“I still don’t see anything.”, Bodhi says again and this time I cannot blame him, since the last minutes of sunrise remain, that dip the sky into a beautiful orange and pink glow.
“Here.” I will the clouds to move so Bodhi can see them clearer.
“Controlling the weather? When did you get close enough to the General to steal her signet?”, Xadens tone hardens but what some would interpret as rage, I know is actually worry.
“This morning. Told her I’d need her signet for keeping her daughter safe. I totally don’t, but it’s still cool.”, I reply and watch out for the next candidate, careful to keep my voice low enough so no one I don’t want eavesdropping can hear.
Xaden narrows his eyes at me but I put a finger to my mouth as a gesture for him to shush as the next candidate emerges from the staircase.
“Later.”, I end the discussion before the next guy steps forward.
He looks better cut out for infantry than for the rider’s quadrant and I know he won’t last long, especially not with that overflowing sac that he’s carrying on his back.
He looks at our rebellion relics with a sneer.
See? Some people should fall down the parapet.
“Name?”
“Ryan Mitchells. Remember the name.”, his voice is laced with so much arrogance that it’s basically overflowing.
The thing about arrogance without skill? It comes back to bite you in the ass.
I write his name down despite him giving me a nasty look. Judging by the weight of his pack, he’s going get dragged down and fall into the cold abyss of the river rushing below.
The second he steps onto the parapet I mutter: “He’s not gonna make it.”
“Not too sorry about that.”, Xaden agrees next to me.
“Should I accidentally give him a tiny shove with a gust of wind?”, ask.
“No. No violence.”, Bodhi objects.
I pout but don’t shove him off, he does that all on his own.
He falls off before he even makes half the way.
A girl called Maisy Flowerhalter steps onto the platform, quietly tells us her name, so quiet that I almost didn’t pick up on it and then makes it to the other side of the parapet, though barely.
Next up is a short guy with tanned skin and floppy brown hair. His boots thud as he strides forward over the stone floor.
“Name?”, Bodhi asks him expressionlessly.
The gaze of the guy fixes on my face. “Whoa, hey there, beautiful. It’s Ridoc. Ridoc Gamlyn.” He winks at me jokingly, but Xaden next to me tenses up.
I brush my hand against his, the touch brief but reassuring. I pull away just as his calloused fingers try to catch mine. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted, especially not now that we are still on duty. Xaden glances at me with a look of understanding on his face, almost as if reading my thoughts.
I continue writing down the candidates, occasionally helping out the marked ones whenever one comes by.
Finally, a young, small, weak looking woman comes by.
I’d be surprised if she survived parapet, let alone until graduation. Her frame is rather small, her arms look like she’s been preparing for the scribes, not the riders. It’s embarrassingly obvious that she has no physical strength whatsoever.
Her chocolate brown hair fades into a silvery color, losing pigment nearing the ends. I can’t help but notice her damned shoes are mismatched, probably she has traded one with the woman next to her, who is wearing the same mismatched shoes.
Why she would do something like that, I cannot comprehend. Kindness is not fit in the rider’s quadrant.
Because the truth is: Too kind people are fools.
She hasn’t realized it yet and if she wants to survive she’ll have to.
I study her more carefully.
She is studying her surroundings like anyone with common sense would do. Her gaze locks onto Xaden and her lips part slightly, forming a perfect O, as a look of burning hunger crosses her eyes. It’s painfully clear she wants him.
She Is staring at my boyfriend. Yeah, not happening.
A bitter taste spreads on my tongue, making my gut sour.
Jealousy is a useless human emotion based on one’s own insecurities. I know that, but I can’t categorize the feeling as anything else. It’s entirely absurd.
Bizarre, even.
The irritable jealousy carries a hint of anger with it. A need for violence that I push down.
It’s unreasonable.
I tell myself that thrice until my head is clear again.
“Name?”
“Violet Sorrengail.”
I freeze.
The remnants of my violent thoughts are instantly reawakened, then frantically suffocated. It is not that I don’t want to kill her.
I can’t.
I cannot risk the future of 108 people for my baseless emotions. I clench my jaw tightly, the sensation grounding me further back into reality.
What I can do, however, is summoning the storm so it starts ten minutes earlier than it would, naturally.
I feel the temperature steadily dropping, clouds darkening at an unnatural pace as the first drops of rain splash onto my face, cool and smooth.
I find solace in the feeling, welcoming the rain like an old friend as the drizzle intensifies into a steady, rhythmic beating.
Xaden steps forward, quiet wrath emanating from him even as rain is beginning to soak him. Sometimes, rain can wash away your feelings like it did my jealousy. But this is something entirely different. Xadens hatred isn’t small. The feelings of resentment have built up like a dam over the years, impossible for the downpour to erase.
And in all honesty, I don’t want them erased.
“You’re General Sorrengail’s youngest.”, Xaden accuses, hatred dripping from each word like poison.
“Your father was Fen Riorson.”, the small Sorrengail actually manages not to quiver in fear and instead lift her jaw, which would be difficult if you weren’t lusting after someone.
A someone who is in a very committed relationship with me, thank you very much.
“Your mother executed my father.”, Xaden states.
“Your father killed my brother. Seems like we’re even.”, Sorrengail fires back.
If she only knew.
“Hardly.”, my boyfriends lips turn into a sneer as he looks down at her disdainfully.
“No violence.”, My voice floats through his head. I find it hard to follow that advice myself but it is something that has to be done, to all our disdain.
Xaden is in a figurative as well as literal stare down with fucking Violet Sorrengail.
She looks tiny, breakable. And she was just lusting after him, much to my complaint. Only that the youngest Sorrengail isn’t Xaden’s type at all. A good thing, I suppose.
He prefers ruthless women such as myself, that are as quick minded and pretty as they are lethal and she definitely doesn’t fit into that category.
Rather, this woman looks all soft and I can tell by her demeanor that she couldn’t hurt a fly.
It’s ridiculous. She doesn’t belong here and the only person keeping her alive is General Sorrengail.
I let out a huff, growing uninterested in this conversation rather quickly and finally the youngest Sorrengail shivers in fear as I throw her a last glare over Xadens shoulder.
I simply use Xadens shadows to get a look at his face without having to move from where I lean on the wall behind him. I see his lips tilt into a beautifully cruel smirk.
“Are you going to kill me?”, Sorrengail asks, the words almost get stuck in her throat although she takes even a step nearer to him, after which, to my absolute delight, my boyfriend retreats in disgust.
If glares could kill, Sorrengail would be six feet under already.
Xaden’s lips form a malicious sneer, which is stupidly attractive. Don’t judge me, speaking facts here.
“Why would I waste my energy on you if the parapet can do it for me? Your turn.”
She moves away. Slowly.
“You need a push, Sorrengail?”, a bulky, mean looking blonde calls out from behind and while he’s most likely a fucking sadist, I can’t help the chants in my head saying ‘Do it!’.
That makes Sorrengail’s ass finally move onto the slick, wet parapet, rain completely soaking her in seconds.
I flex my wrist to write down yet another name. I’ve just mended it yesterday, so it still hurts a little.
Rhiannon Matthias
It’s the girl that has mismatched shoes, alongside Sorrengail and a drop of Rain falls onto her name and smudges it a little.
The sadist calls himself ‘Jack Barlowe’. Ordinary man, ordinary name, I guess.
When I have to write down the next name
Gregory Williams
Who is definitely not going to make it, based on how that Barlowe kid is standing there ready to throw down the next candidate that comes his way, a sharp pain slashes through my wrist and I wince slightly.
It should be imperceptible, but of course, Xaden picks it up.
“Everything okay with you, love?”, he asks concerned.
“Yeah just my wrist. I had it mended yesterday and now it’s being a little bitch.”
I glance down at my hands where Xadens shadows wrap around my hands, wrestling the roll and the pen out of my hands and returning them to him.
“Your wrist needs to rest.”, he says sternly in that no-nonsense voice that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Maybe you’re just whipped, Aine comments and then leaves my head as fast as she came.
I can’t help but to think that she might be right, but it doesn’t bother me. Some people unfortunately have more control over me than I’d like, but it is what it is. And for Xaden, I don’t mind, because I trust him with my life and even with my heart.
He continues writing down the names in my place and I take a quick glance at the roll. The difference in our handwriting is visible, but no one will complain about it.
Rhiannon Matthias
Jack Barlowe
Gregory Williams
Matthea Hollands
Tom Bunter
Robyn McGregor
Nastasia Bolsdoniak
And so on.
More and more unknown faces pour in, some arrive at the other side, some don’t.
Even Liam, whom I’ve last seen six years ago appears and I’m so happy to see his face again, even if the circumstances are shitty.
I’m happy to hear that he and Sloane, his little sister, have been training. I’ve pulled every string possible for them to end up fostered together. It was pretty tricky, though.
It worked, thankfully. I’ve gotten quite lucky as well, the luck of the draw putting me and Xaden to Duke Lindell.
So my last few years were spent with Xaden, with a quick one-year interruption, due to the fact he’s a year older than me and got conscripted earlier.
Duke Lindell is a kind man, helping us out where he could, preparing us for the quadrant. Never have I been happier to already have years of self-defense training on my head. I’ve always wanted to be a rider, so I trained for it since I could think and it definitely paid off.
Finally, everyone has crossed, or hasn’t, depending.
Bodhi walks over the parapet chill as ever.
I follow him, Xaden behind me, obsessively making sure I don’t fall off, although my Balance is good. Rider’s Quadrant training for the win.
The wind howls, tearing at me like it’s begging to gift Malek another dead soul. But my years of training under not only Fen but also Duke Lindell give me the needed advantage for my boots to grip the slick bridge easily, keeping me on top of the parapet.
Before we reach the other side, I slide into his mind to ask him to put Sorrengail in my squad and he nods, seemingly already having made the connection that it would be smarter having her in his wing, especially whilst keeping her alive, not because she is a particularly good asset. I’d say almost everybody in this courtyard would be a better asset purely physically.
Surely being trained for the scribe’s quadrant equipped her with enough wits.
Squads get called and my squad, Second Squad Flame section, looks quite ok.
Dain Aetos’s fucking face looks so irritated when his precious Violet ends up in my squad. He knows exactly what’s going on. Or at least he thinks he does.
As a squad leader I stand above him in rank, so he can’t really complain.
Take that, bitch.
Somehow, Rhiannon ends up in my squad too and while this is a huge stroke of luck on Violets side, I don’t object because that girl is loyal as fuck to Violet now, all because of a shoe.
It’s a real gamble, kindness. But it seems sometimes it does pay out. Still not something I’ll attempt, though.
The dragon of Panchek lands behind him and Panchek starts the exact same speech that he held last year and probably the year before.
Blah fucking blah.
The only speech I will listen to is Xaden’s. He has that way with his words and I know it’ll be good.
As I expected, he builds the new cadets up until everyone is cheering. My boyfriend is a master manipulator. My lips involuntarily curl into a small smile at that though I do not cheer with them myself.
“You’re all cadets now.” Xadens voice carries across the courtyard confidently and I silently cheer him on.
I glance at my squad again. They are in formation in front of me while I can just look at all of them. Oh how wonderful it is to be a squad leader… I shift slightly to look at Xaden as he continues.
“Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by the codex not to kill you.”
Yeah, but just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t.
“But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t.”, Xaden literally voices what I just thought. What the hell. The telepathy is getting a little bit too real here.
“Stop reading my thoughts, wingleader.”, I joke into his mind and I swear I just saw the corner of his mouth involuntarily tick upward.
“You want a dragon? Earn one.” Most of the other cadets cheer, but I keep my mouth shut. I know Xaden and his ‘build you up to break you down’ speeches and this one is definitely one of them. He isn’t much one that feeds your ego, because he doesn’t have to. He lays out the truth to you, cold and icy.
I swivel my head around to look out for all those that possess enough brains to not applaud and holler at Xadens words.
Most are, but I spot a few faces that aren’t. I’ll be sure to remember them.
And look at that, the little Sorrengail in front of me isn’t cheering either.
“And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don’t you, first years?”
More cheers.
“You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?”, Xaden shouts, “You think you’re untouchable! You’re on your way to becoming the elite. The few. The chosen!”
I basically feel the ‘break you down’ part coming with every clap, every cheer that is growing louder and louder until they aren’t just cheers anymore. They’re wingbeats.
“Oh gods, they’re beautiful.”, Rhiannon breathes as they come into view- the riot of dragons.
I silently agree.
In any case, they’re all massive, overshadowing the structure of our citadel in absolute judgement. If they didn’t need us puny humans to develop signet abilities from bonding and weave the protective wards around Navarre, I’m sure they’d eat us all and be done with it. I would, if I were them, but maybe it’s good for all of us that I don’t have the commando for the dragons.
But lucky humans, the dragons like protecting the Vale -the valley behind Basgiath the dragons call home- So here we are, in the most unlikely of partnerships.
A cadet bolts out from Third wing, making a run for dear life. Dumb fucking decision. I don’t bother turning because I already know what will happen to him, but most others do, including Sorrengail.
The red dragon opens its mouth, sharp teeth lining the inside of their mouth as fire rolls off their tongue and based on how Sorrengail turns around again stiffly, I know he’s most likely nothing more than a pile of ash.
And there is another gust of heat. And another. Make that 70 cadets dead, including the ones who fell- or got shoved- off the parapet.
Some die of arrogance, some of lacking skill, some of mistakes, but these, they died of stupidity. Why would I mourn their loss? I wouldn’t.
As if fueled by the goal to not end up like these three, Sorrengail forces her shoulders back and keeps her head high. Sgaeyl blinks at her once and then looks away, at me. I give a subtle wink and she lets out a sound one can only describe as the dragon version of a snort as she puffs -harmless- steam at us.
“Anyone else feel like changing their mind? No? Excellent, roughly half of you will be dead this time next summer.”, Xaden states coldly. See? That’s what I mean. He doesn’t coddle you, doesn’t feed your ego. Gives you the truth and if you can’t handle it, your problem.
The formation is deadly quiet. I’ve predicted this moment and now, the punchline has finally arrived. A few annoying sobs come from the left. I roll my eyes. If you have to cry, do it later and not now where every single cadet can see your vulnerability. The crying cadet will end up dead, no doubt.
“A third of you again the year after that, and the same for your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here.”
But they do.
People care if you are a normal person or someone whose parents have committed treason. They care if you are marked or not. The only ones who don’t care about that are the dragons.
“Even King Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing.”, Xadens gaze cuts to Sorrengail. Ah, so this is who it’s about.
“So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you’ve made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?”
This time, no one cheers. It’s almost too funny how fast he managed to humble all those cadets with the big egos.
Another blast of heat rushes, strong enough to whip back my remaining hair for a second. I see another cadet’s pants staining. He peed himself. Gross.
They want us scared? Mission fucking accomplished.
Well, for most of us. The new cadets certainly are, while the Juniors and Seniors are just watching with cold detachment.
“Because you’re not untouchable or special to them.”, Xaden points toward the navy dragon and pivots slightly, like he’s letting us in on a secret.
The dragons are varying in color, but Sgaeyl remains the prettiest of them and also the deadliest. Lethal beauty, just perfect.
My dragon and Sgaeyl are both beautiful and dare I say they got all the good genes while other dragons look okay but not as stunning.
It is true, Aine agrees. Okay, no more ego feeding.
The cheering has stopped and I hear Xadens last sentence.
“To them, you’re just prey.”
How right he is.
A little later I’m overly happy to finally be back in our room, letting my body fall onto the massive bed.
At least only 70 cadets died, most of them due to their own incompetence. Some got pushed off and I partly knew their faces.
I think you should’ve pushed everyone off, my dragon Aine interferes.
“No violence.”, I remind her sternly, even though the suggestion doesn’t sound too bad.
Boring. Normally that’s all you do and when I ask you for it you suddenly become a responsible adult?
I snort at that. “Why are you asking for it anyway?”, I want to know, because normally, Aine would only request something like that for people she really doesn’t like. Or when she’s bored. Which is almost about all the time.
Aine lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a sigh in dragon language. If no cadets are alive, there will be no bonding. Every year there is always something I have to take care of at threshing. I don’t want these complications, she complains.
“But why would specifically you have to take care of that? Can’t anyone else do it?”
Let me explain. As you know, I’m a den-leader. And not just any den-leader at that. Imagine the den-leaders as wingleaders. In that scenario I would be not just a normal wingleader but a senior-wingleader, like Malla’s rider is.
“You mean Nyra?”
Yes, whatever. The position comes with more power, but also more responsibility and while I’d usually let someone else of my den do most of the work, in this case I can’t. Bonding with a rider is very important and the bonds have to be handled by the ‘senior den-leader’ themselves.
“Interesting. And what about… your mate?”, I question curiously. Whenever I ask about him, Aine won’t say anything. All I know is that he’s a very powerful dragon and I have the suspicion he’s a den-leader himself, but that remains to be seen.
He’ll assist me, of course. But he recently killed his last rider, a year or two ago. Thankfully, it was long the time for that and I didn’t like his last rider much anyways. My mate is currently still a little shaken, but I think he has recovered very well from it. Now, stop interrogating me and focus on your own, human burdens.
He killed his own rider? What? Are dragons allowed to do that? I mean, they probably are but I’ve never heard any dragon laws, so I can’t really judge it. I try to think of a dragon who killed his rider and the only thing I can think of…
NO, it can’t be. I have the wrong one. Right...?
“Aine?”
You have the right one, she supplies quietly.
The realization shocks me. My heart stops. The air leaves my lungs as one name clicks into place. No. No. No. Anyone but him. Why him? WHY? WHY?
I’m sorry, my flame. I am aware of your complicated history with him. But trust me he isn’t as bad as you think.
“Okay. I’ll judge that myself when I meet him.”, and that’s all I state before disintegrating from the conversation.