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Chapter Text

Ivan Luperco always thought that he was exceptionally unlucky, to the point where it would almost be funny if it was not so tragic. Despite being so tall now, he was born early and the stories say that the midwives did not expect him to last the night. When he was a child, he stuttered out his first word, and then nearly every one after. It’s difficult to make friends when a person is scared to speak. When he reached the age for lessons, they realized he didn’t see the letters on the page the same way as everyone else. 

It appeared that every way of interacting with the world was doomed from the very beginning. 

But he was never a pessimistic child, despite all of it. He had great parents, who were always patient with him. His dad never interrupted him when he tried to speak, and his mother used to spend hours working with him on his reading. He was at least blessed in some respects. Until he wasn’t. 

The apostasy. His joy crumbled to dust until the only good that remained was the peace of being left alone—preferably in a quiet forest, away from people who looked at him with disdain and distrust. 

Ivan shifts nervously in his seat in the commons, knowing he arrived much too early. He believes that Violet was sincere when she invited him along to her squad’s study sessions, but he can’t help but feel like the rug is going to be pulled out from under him any second. 

He thinks for a moment about leaving before any of them can arrive. 

After-all, Ivan spent over five years thinking about running away. It’s hard not to want to pack up everything he can carry and leave when the future waiting for so long was at the bottom of the ravine. Since the apostasy, all of his dreams that don’t include his mother and father have been around escaping into the mountains and never being heard from again. 

But Xaden Riorson took a cut for every last one of them and that means something to the Tyrrish, even cowards like Ivan. It would have meant something to his parents. Even if Riorson’s sacrifice wouldn’t carry Ivan across the parapet and onto a dragon in the end, it could save at least some the others. The stronger ones. 

He thought he could be okay with that in the end, until he had a blonde asshole named Jack Barlowe breathing down his neck and Ivan remembered that he didn’t want to die. 

It fucking sucked not to have a choice in the matter. 

And then Violet Sorrengail showed up and decided to change the course of his life, or rather his death. After killing a man more than twice her size on the fucking parapet, Violet looked him in the eyes, reached into the depths of his despair, gripped him tight and pulled him towards survival whether he liked it or not. The last person he ever expected became his savior, and then his real, true friend. One of the only people he's met that he doesn't seem to have trouble speaking in front of, even from that very first day. 

“You’re going to live today, Ivan.” 

It was inspiring. It was also fucking terrifying. 

So he stays in his seat, wringing his fingers in front of him with clear anxiety. 

Rhiannon and Sawyer were kind, he reminds himself. For a moment during their last meeting, he felt almost… accepted. Like the people in the room with him weren’t looking at his arm the entire time. Even the other marked ones, besides Liam, have been hesitant around him since he made it clear during their first meeting that he was friends with Violet. 

He sighs again and pulls his long sleeves further down. 

“Hey!” Ivan hears a bright voice suddenly call out, causing him to jump and make a noise that’s embarrassingly close to a squeak. He whips his head around to find a dark boy with wide, brown eyes standing in front of the table Violet’s squad gathered at a few days ago. 

He’s shorter than Ivan by a large margin, but most of the quadrant is. Ivan has been an unfortunate six feet tall since he was sixteen and wanted nothing more than to take up as little space as possible. Ivan opens his mouth to apologize for sitting there—or existing, he hadn’t decided yet—but the boy continues speaking with a large grin before he can. 

“I’m Ridoc Gamlyn! Vi mentioned we have a new member of our study group.” Ivan closes his mouth and nods numbly, and Ridoc quickly moves to sit down directly across from him. 

“I-Ivan Luperco,” he manages, looking to the left of his face. He thinks about saying something else, but can’t find the words, even if the newcomer looks friendly. Plenty of people seem friendly until they see the mark on his arm. 

After waiting a moment to see if he had anything else to say, Ridoc moves to fill the silence. Ivan finds himself pathetically grateful. “It’s always better to suffer with others, you know? I think it makes everything easier when there’s somebody around to laugh about it with. How did you meet Violet?”

Ivan studies the wood graining on the table in front of him. “S-she, uh, saved my life on the parapet.” 

He looks up at Ridoc’s sound of surprise. “Oh, that makes sense! She told us something about that. The rumors were crazy,” he says with a chuckle. “How was it from your end?” 

The quiet boy sits with his question for a long time. “I-it was…” 

Words fail him again, and he resists the urge to groan out loud. 

Except Ridoc just waits patiently for him to find the words this time. Most people would have rolled their eyes or chimed in by now. Ivan is used to that. He’s had these problems for his entire life, and it’s rare to find someone with the patience for him even if they’re not necessarily bad people. 

Ridoc’s encouraging smile is downright confusing.

“Scary,” Ivan settles on finally. “Honestly, I t-thought she was going to kill me too for a second.” 

He’s surprised how evenly the words come out. Ridoc smiles kindly. “But she didn’t.” 

“Nope,” Ivan answers, and then takes a deep breath. “She wanted to be my friend instead. But I still think she’s scary.”

His answering chuckle makes some of the tension in Ivan’s shoulders ease. “Yeah, I’ve been getting the impression that’s sort of her thing,” Ridoc says, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially. “A good friend to have in your corner though.” 

That sounds about right. “I’m happy we met,” Ivan adds, thinking for a moment about what to say, planning the words in his head before he says them. “Especially if she helps me pass, which would be about as impressive as c-casually stabbing someone on the parapet.” 

Ridoc throws his head back with a laugh and Ivan looks at the table to hide his small smile. It’s nice to make someone laugh. 

“Glad to know you’re funny!” Ridoc says brightly, leaning his head down close to the table to catch his gaze. Ivan jumps back slightly to look at him in surprise. “I can’t do it all alone.” 

Ivan feels a sense of satisfaction at Ridoc’s words, like he was inviting him to be a part of something more than just a joke.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “Your squad seems like a g-good time.” 

Ridoc shrugs. “But I’m the funniest. You’ll see,” he promises with a wink. “And I have a feeling you’ll have them all laughing soon.” 

Ivan is fortunately spared from replying when Violet comes barreling through the door and to their table like someone is chasing her, Rhiannon and Sawyer right on her heels. 

“Sorry we’re late!” Violet calls out, resting her hands on her knees as she breathes heavily. Rhiannon and Sawyer are not much better, immediately collapsing into their chairs. “I was running away from my squad leader and then Rhi and Sawyer saw me and decided to join.”

Ivan’s brows knit together at her words. Why was Violet running from her squad leader? 

“I don’t understand why Aetos won’t leave you alone,” Rhiannon grunts. 

Sawyer lets his head slam down onto the table. “I don’t understand why you kept running,” he cries out in accusation. “You led us away from here! In a circle! Aetos had given up!” 

Ivan’s strange new friend shrugs with a devious look to her eyes. “Maybe I didn’t hear you calling my name.” 

He doesn’t believe her for a second. 

Rhiannon laughs and pats Sawyer’s shoulder comfortingly before turning back to Ivan with an easy grin, breathing having returned to normal. “Hey Ivan! I’m happy Ridoc didn’t scare you away while we were gone.” 

With as much courage as he can muster, Ivan smiles crookedly. “If Violet c-couldn’t scare me away, nobody can.” 

Violet squawks in protest, pulling her chair back in a huff to sit at the head of the table. Ridoc, Sawyer, and Rhiannon all laugh in response. 

The chorus of noise makes Ivan feel warm inside, even as he finally pulls out his dreaded history assignment. Maybe he has to go back to his squad eventually, but for a few times a week, he could actually have this. 

It doesn’t hurt that Violet was right—and he fears he may have to get used to that. 

He does kind of like Ridoc.

Chapter Text

One of the especially nasty second-years in his squad glares at him where he’s standing in the doorway after squad sparring. “Gods, will you move? The gym is for things other than l-l-losing,” he spits out. The deliberate dig against his tendency to stutter makes his face flush. 

It’s not as bad as when Ivan was a child, but he still struggles when he’s nervous and people in this quadrant feed on weakness like his. 

He trips slightly over his feet getting out of his way, watching the way that Liam takes notice from across the gym where he is still cleaning up after himself. 

He tries to communicate with his eyes that he does not need help. His blonde friend does his best to keep negative attention away, but Ivan doesn’t have the benefit of being known as the strongest cadet in their year to distract from the mark on his arm. In fact, people just give him more shit about hiding behind his friend like a coward.

Ivan is trying.  

In a way that he never has, because he’s spent the last several years thinking his death was an inevitability. His progress is slow, but Liam still trains with him every chance he gets. He told him to seek Imogen out for further lessons exactly once.

Ivan thought it was a joke. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes. 

It was enough of an answer. 

Ivan and Imogen’s relationship over the last few months has been tumultuous at best and outright hostile at worst. The worst part is that he knows that she’s probably the best resource to improve. What other older marked one is he going to ask for help? Riorson? Ivan would probably faint if Liam even suggested it. 

She would be a great resource, like she has been for some of the other marked ones that are struggling, except that every single time they talk, Imogen makes a snide comment about Violet.

To the surprise of everyone involved, Ivan always manages to summon a rare bit of defiance to argue. He truly doesn’t know what possesses him in those moments, because it’s almost like he’s watching himself from the outside. It could just be a consequence of his fugue state but Ivan is almost certain that he called Imogen a stubborn hypocrite last week—not a stutter in sight—and he’s still not quite sure how he made it out of that interaction alive. 

Liam immediately shoving his entire body between them might have something to do with it. 

Maybe it’s the memory of Violet telling him that he wasn’t going to die, and forcing him to believe it for the first time. Or the way that she’s embraced their friendship, but he can’t quite stop himself from defending her—even if it means missing out on Imogen’s instruction. 

The truth is that even if he ignores the fact that Violet saved his life, which he doesn’t, she’s his friend. Her squad are quickly becoming his favorite people in the quadrant after a few weeks of being invited into their study group. 

Still, a part of him assumes those small bursts of happiness with that group of people would be confined to the commons—which he doesn’t mind. He understands why other cadets would keep their distance. Ivan takes what he can get, even if he’s the odd man out and he isn’t around for some of the stories and inside jokes they share. 

But then he realizes that the rest of them are actually his friends too.

It happens with Ridoc first. 

“What, like being a dick?” Ridoc bites viciously back at the rider giving him shit, glaring at the taller man from the doorway where he’s just entering. 

“What the fuck is your problem, first-year?” 

Ivan's heart twists at the idea of him redirecting his ire, but Ridoc doesn’t even flinch. His expression twists into a dark grin, but it’s nothing like any of the smiles Ivan has seen before. “Right now?” He asks mockingly. “Some asshole who thinks he’s hot shit when I remember him losing his last challenge. That was to a first-year too, wasn’t it? We’re still learning and you’re already a rider, so what’s your excuse?” 

His face goes red and he sputters out something before shoving the door open and leaving. 

Ivan blinks in surprise, looking at Ridoc who is just smiling up at him brightly like he hadn’t just defended him. “Hey, man. Are you just getting here or leaving?” 

“Leaving,” he mumbles, unsure what else to say. 

“I’ll go with you,” he offers immediately. “I have time to kill before dinner.” 

Ivan thinks about mentioning that Ridoc was just entering the gym, but he just nods instead, still struck speechless by the series of events. 

He just wordlessly follows Ridoc out of the gym, and he leads them down the corridor until they’re a fair distance away, heading nowhere in particular. 

“They always treat you like that?” Ridoc asks quietly, without looking in his direction. 

Ivan swallows back a bit of shame at his answer. “A-all the time.” 

He risks a glance over at the shorter boy and he’s surprised to see his brows furrowed. “Do you have anybody on your squad?”

Ivan nods immediately, thinking of Liam. “I’m okay.” 

Ridoc looks over with a raised brow like he doesn’t believe him. 

“I am,” he insists. “Liam watches my back.” 

“Mairi?” Ridoc asks. 

He nods. 

Ridoc hums. “That’s good. He’s strong. I’ve seen the guy in the gym.” Ivan waits for Ridoc to start talking about more than his fighting form, but he is still thinking deeply. “You should come hang out with us more anyways.” 

Ivan smiles sheepishly at that. “You don’t have to baby me. I’ll be okay.” 

“You don’t baby people in the Rider’s Quadrant,” he argues. “You made it here just like everyone else, Ivan. You shouldn’t spend more time than you have to around shitty people.” 

“They’re my squad,” he argues weakly. 

“Yeah, well, you’re our friend,” Ridoc replies stubbornly, coming to a stop in the empty corridor. Ivan turns to look at him in surprise. “I’m your friend. You know that, right?” he asks in response to his disbelief. 

Ivan flushes at Ridoc’s expression. That familiar grin is replaced by a look of determination. 

He shrugs, hoping it reads as casual. “I do now.” His words come out just above a whisper, but Ridoc beams like Ivan just gave him a present. 

“Good,” he responds with a quick nod. “Now that we’re friends, you need to tell me when people treat you like shit.” 

Fumbling for a moment, Ivan lifts his hands and waves them in front of him quickly. “T-that is not necessary.” It would also be incredibly time-consuming given that the people around the quadrant who look at him without disdain is a much shorter list. 

“I’m serious,” Ridoc insists. “You don’t have to deal with shit alone.” 

Ivan just gapes at him for a moment, entirely speechless once again. With a fond shake of his head, Ridoc loops their arms together and pulls him along to keep walking. He helplessly follows, still unsure of where they’re going, but he eventually finds himself led outside into the courtyard. Ridoc pulls him along towards one of the softer patches of grass partially obscured by the winding building. 

He settles next to him easily and Ridoc leans back up against the wall. Ivan tries not to flush even brighter under his scrutiny, pulling his long legs up to his chest and looping his arms around them loosely. 

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask permission before.” 

Ridoc rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, yeah. I have a bad habit of letting the inside thoughts out. But I don’t ever want to push you to share anything if you’re not willing.” 

Touched, Ivan nods slowly. 

“The stutter. Have you always had it?” 

Ivan clutches at the fabric of his pants and stares down at the grass in front of them. “When I was a kid, it was bad. Letters didn’t make sense and I c-couldn’t talk, which didn’t seem fair. But it got better. By the time I was ten, it was almost gone. Then after a few years, it got worse. Now it’s… fine. It comes out when I’m nervous.” Which is most of the time, but he deals with it. He stays quiet unless he has to speak. 

In his periphery, he watches as Ridoc opens his mouth and then closes it again, seemingly having thought better of it. 

“A few years…” he says slowly. Ivan waits for him to draw the right conclusion, somehow surprised at the care he puts into his next words. “The rebellion?” Ridoc asks gently. 

He nods, eyes still locked on the grass. “Y-yeah. After that… speaking felt impossible,” he whispers into his knees. It’s always easier not to stutter when he’s not trying to be heard. “I didn’t even want to. I don’t think I spoke at all for almost a year. If I did, I don’t remember.” 

Ridoc releases all of the air in his chest in a huff. “Shit. Will you tell me what happened?” 

Ivan sits up straighter and looks at him with wide eyes. “It’s not a good story. A-and I’m not a good storyteller.” 

To his surprise, Ridoc reaches forward and gently tugs the taller man back so they’re both leaning against the wall. Ivan lets go of his legs in response. “I can be patient sometimes. It’s very surprising, I know.” He pauses for Ivan’s huff of amusement and smiles at the sound. “I don’t mind waiting for you to find the words.” 

He opens his mouth and then closes it, frankly tired of being speechless in the shorter man's presence. He steels his spine. “O-okay,” he says eventually. “If you’re sure. This might... not be what you expect.” 

Or he might accuse Ivan of lying. That's always a possibility. 

“That's fine. I am always sure,” Ridoc responds immediately.

“Must be nice,” Ivan manages to tease. 

Ridoc chuckles. “Yeah, or maybe that’s one of the benefits of usually not knowing any better. It’s easy to be confident when you don’t take yourself seriously.” 

For some reason, he doesn’t believe that for a second. Ridoc might be loud, boisterous, and full of innuendos, but he’s also always looking out for his squad. Ivan spends a lot of time being quiet and observing others, and he’s noticed that Ridoc spends almost as much time looking at the people he cares about as Violet spends looking at everyone—without any of the suspicion. He’s the first to crack a joke when someone looks frustrated, or in Ivan’s case, the first to draw attention towards himself when the shy boy is feeling uncomfortable in a group.

He’s just one of those rare people whose world revolves around others naturally. 

“I take you seriously,” Ivan responds unthinkingly, surprising even himself. 

Ridoc blinks, but he beams in return. “Thanks, Ivan. So,” he draws out the word teasingly. “Storytime?” 

So he does. He stutters and stops and takes breaks to wipe away his tears, but Ivan tells… the truth. Or at least the version of it that doesn’t include dark wielders outside of the wards and treasonous information that could get both of them killed by Navarre. 

He tells Ridoc about being pulled out of bed in the middle of night and sent away with the other children when Aretia burned. He tells him about being captured and taken to Navarre for the execution, and how none of the children were allowed the chance to say their goodbyes. He tells him about the two days they were left in the cells at Basgiath, children crying and starving and some even injured, while it was decided what would be done with them with cruel disinterest. He glosses over Riorson’s deal and tells him instead about being placed in a foster home in the mountains, about an hour away from the nearest marked one who he only saw very rarely. 

For a long time, he spoke about how sleeping under the stars became his only reprieve as the years counted down to the day he would be forced across the parapet. The mountain air, the smell of a campfire, the type of quiet that can only be achieved by being the only one around for miles. 

“It wasn’t so bad for me,” he manages softly. “Some of the others… let’s just say that some of the volunteers to house us weren’t good people. I was… ignored for the most part. It could have been worse.”

He spares a glance at Ridoc and he has his fists clenched in front of him. “Ignored? What does that mean?”

Ivan shrugs. “They didn’t hurt me. I just… didn’t matter. I could disappear and they wouldn’t have noticed until my teacher told them. And she thought I was stupid, so she encouraged me not to go.” 

It was meant to be a positive statement. Some of the others were beaten and insulted or forced to do hard labor depending on where they were placed. He might have had to live without being placed near any of the fighters, which put him at a disadvantage on Conscription Day, but it could have been worse. 

Ivan would love to not matter to most of his squad. Being ignored would be an improvement. 

But Ridoc doesn’t look comforted by his words. “We aren’t told any of this!” he mutters angrily. “I didn’t even know you didn’t get a choice!” 

Ivan chuckles. “Do I look like somebody who would choose this?” he asks wryly. “Nobody looks at me and thinks I’ll make it.”

Instead of laughing, Ridoc looks up at him with a determined expression. “You’re going to make it, Ivan.” He’s surprised by how similar his words are to Violet’s order on the parapet. “I’m sorry you were forced here, but I’m glad we met.” 

“Me too,” he admits softly. 

Ridoc opens his mouth to respond when he’s interrupted once again by one Violet Sorrengail barreling towards them. Ivan doesn’t think he’s ever seen her walk anywhere without purpose. 

“Ridoc Gamlyn!” Violet hollers. “I thought I needed to be dating a boy for him to stand me up!” 

Ivan whips his head around to face Ridoc, who pales at the sight of their friend. He opens his mouth to reply, but the small, angry girl isn’t finished. 

“Two hours! Two hours, I waited for you! I’ll do you a favor and you can let me know which limb you’re least attached t—” Violet starts accusingly, before registering Ivan’s presence. “Oh! Hi Ivan,” she says, scowl immediately being replaced by a bright smile. Ivan watches her register his red, bloodshot eyes and all of the fight fades from her in an instant. It’s replaced by an eagle-eyed concern, eyes more amber than blue. 

“Sorry, Vi,” Ridoc says with a pout. “I got distracted.”

Ivan thinks about apologizing for a single moment, but he quickly decides against it. Ivan didn’t know that Ridoc was abandoning Violet when he followed him out of the gym. 

There is also the fact that Violet is never upset with him, and Ivan would like for that to continue. He feels something close to smug as the only one spared from her occasional but always deserved wrath during study groups—sort of like he’s her favorite, which is silly because he’s not even on that squad. 

He’s just never been anyone’s favorite before, and he can’t help but love the way Violet dotes on him. She always slips him extra candies when nobody is looking. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she says immediately, smiling down at both of them for once from where she is standing. “I was just joking about the whole limb thing.” 

“No, you weren’t,” Ivan adds immediately, enjoying the way that Violet and Ridoc’s laughter rings out in the darkening courtyard. Violet looks relieved, not offended, at the quip. 

After confiding in Ridoc, he feels… lighter. The two boys rise and Ivan takes a moment to look down at two of the biggest surprises he’s encountered since arriving at Basgiath. 

Things aren’t nearly as bad here as he thought they would be.

Chapter Text

Threshing is a known as a lawless rite of passage, where cadets can kill freely if that is what they need to do to claim their dragon. Ivan isn't completely sure how this differs from the rest of the quadrant, but he knows that he needs to keep his guard up. 

He freezes at the sound of twigs snapping behind him. His hands clutch desperately at the dagger in his hand as he turns. As much as he was terrified of acknowledging it, something inside of his chest had been tugging him this direction. He should have known it would have brought him misfortune in the end. 

His streak of being the unlucky one returns with a vengeance.  

At a glance, Ivan doesn’t recognize the blonde cadet, but he doesn’t have to. He recognizes the look in his eyes—the expression of someone about to make his life worse just because he can. 

“W-what do you want?” Ivan calls out shakily. He knows that he has been lucky with challenges. None of his losses have been to anyone vicious enough to take his life in the process. 

There was once he was matched with a cadet known for his brutality and killing two of his first six opponents, but the man went deathly pale and fell unconscious less than thirty seconds into their challenge. He was kept at the Healers’ for a week. 

Since their conversation in the abandoned classroom this morning, Ivan has a suspicion that he has Violet to thank for that one. 

He has no fucking clue how she did it, or how she even knew who he would be facing, but he’s grateful nonetheless. He’ll never bring it up and let her think that she got away without being figured out. His friend loves to be an enigma. 

It seems a shame to die in this valley when she’s been working so hard to keep him alive. 

“Just figured I’d rid the quadrant of a traitor before I go find my dragon,” the cadet spits out. Ivan recognizes distantly that his patch is from Second Wing. 

Threshing is a different beast than a challenge, but it doesn’t mean Violet still can’t help him. He angles his body and lifts up the dagger, slipping his other hand into his pocket to fumble for the vial where the cadet can’t see. 

But he lunges forward before Ivan can get the vial open. Flinching back, he beats himself up for not trying to open it before and confirming he could. 

His dagger barely stops the cadet’s sword before it reaches his face. “Fuck,” he swears, jumping back and hand leaving his pocket on instinct. 

“Come on,” he taunts. “Why are you putting off the inevitable?” 

“I haven’t done shit to you,” Ivan calls out, blood pumping in his ears. “W-we’re here to claim dragons, not kill each other.” 

He shrugs. “I can do both. I’ve seen you around, you know? Pretending like you belong here. It makes me sick. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as these dragons.” 

Ivan’s brows furrow. “I feel like I’ve been very clear I don’t belong here,” he says in clear confusion. “It’s not like I have a choice. Not like you do right now.” 

The words are lost to the wind as he lunges forward again, blade slashing. Ivan curses and moves to put distance between them again, but he’s fast and obviously a much better fighter than him. Just because he’s trying now, it doesn’t mean that it can make up for the lifetime he hasn’t spent preparing for this. 

Ivan swears as he barely sidesteps a downward slash. Hand shooting out, he manages to slice at his attacker’s forearm, but it’s too shallow. Blood wells up and his eyes turn even more murderous.

He jumps back and manages to stay away from the onslaught of swipes and slashes. He can’t get anywhere near him with his dagger. 

With a determined grunt, Ivan recognizes only hope is the poison. He opens his mouth again as his hand goes to his pocket. 

“What’s your name?” He calls out loudly. “Mine is Ivan.”

The cadet rolls his eyes. “Knowing your name won’t make me feel bad for you.”

He curls his fingers around the vial and carefully uses his nail to pry off the top. It thankfully releases this time. 

“I-I’m not saying it will,” Ivan stalls, angling the vial to empty the white powder into his palm with clumsy fingers. “But don’t I deserve to know the name of the person who’s going to kill me?” 

He tilts his head for a moment like he’s thinking about it and then shrugs. “No,” he says decisively, coming forward with a large overhead slash. Ivan jumps back but yelps when it manages to catch his chest. He barely manages to keep his fingers curled through his flinch. 

“Shit!” he swears as his attacker continues barreling forward from the momentum.

Before he can recover, Ivan lunges forward and brings his hand to his mouth. He remembers Violet’s words of caution and inhales away from his closed fist before blowing sharply through a hole created by his palm. 

The other cadet breathes in the powder in surprise, stumbling backwards. Ivan moves his hand away from his face before he inhales on accident and Violet hunts him down to Malek’s realm to give him a firm talking to. 

“W-what the fuck?” the cadet mumbles, blinking blearily. Ivan keeps his dagger raised until he falls back and hits the ground. As soon as he dusts the powder off his hand, he checks on his wound. 

It hurts like a bitch, but it’s not deep. Ivan sighs in relief, looking down at the unconscious cadet. 

He could leave. Violet said he had at least a few minutes, so he could run to get away and look elsewhere for his dragon. Maybe have the chance to bandage his injury.

But his attacker could wake up and follow him, and Ivan is out of poison. Would killing an unconscious man be a sign of weakness to the dragons? 

Ivan looks down at his attacker, knowing in his soul that he’s a piece of shit. After a moment, he releases a heavy sigh and tries to ignore the pain radiating from his chest at the motion. He’s still clutching his dagger in a white-knuckled grip. 

“You are so fucking lucky,” he mutters, looking around for a good direction to make a run for it. He pauses when he feels a tug in his chest so unlike anything that he has ever experienced before. It cuts through the pain like a knife. 

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ a deep, feminine voice rings out. ‘You do not need to forgive those who do not ask for it.’

His brows furrow in response. He’s not forgiving him. He’s just… not killing him. 

‘Ivan Luperco,’ she says again, voice ringing out in his chest accompanied by a deep-rooted feeling of belonging unlike anything he has ever felt before. ‘Dragons do not accept weakness.’

Ivan flushes in shame. “I’m sorry,” he says out loud. “I have always been weak. I’ve been trying, but I’m still the same boy who almost died as a candidate.” 

He feels her disagreement viscerally, and it almost makes him flinch. ‘That boy fell into the ravine, and you did not follow. Who are you to question me? I am far better at judging these things than you.’ 

In that moment, he wants desperately to believe her, to put his faith in this voice and trust that she knows best. 

She continues in his silence. ‘You are targeted here. Ridiculed and avoided as if the righteousness of your people is reason enough to disrespect you. Kill the human who dared to come for you because of the mark on your skin.’ He looks down at the unconscious cadet for several long moments. 

“I…” his voice trails off. “This isn’t my kill. This… I had help.” 

The only reason he’s not dead at the end of this cadet's sword is because of Violet. Again. 

‘The power and loyalty of our allies are a testament to our own will and strength of character,’ she replies instantly. ‘Your allies are more powerful and concerned with your wellbeing than most. If you do not evolve and grow, you will never have the opportunity to serve them in kind.’ 

“I want to help them in return,” Ivan responds fiercely, more fiercely than he thought possible. “Without the older ones, without Violet and her squad, this place would be even more fucking miserable.” 

‘Then do as you must. Take control of his life and your own which he so carelessly threatened. See your value as I have.’ 

Ivan’s fist grips the hilt tighter and he drops to his knees. He leans down over the unconscious cadet, features relaxed and free of malice. 

‘I would hurry,’ she adds wryly. ‘Your ally’s help will only last for so long. If it makes you feel any better, the silver one likely would have already killed him for his sins against you.’

He snorts in amusement despite the gravity of the situation. The voice isn’t wrong. If he had to guess, Violet might hunt him down herself if this cadet lives to see the end of Threshing. And maybe that would have been acceptable to Ivan once, a scared boy craving solitude while resenting the fact that nobody could save him from his fate. 

But Ivan is not the same person he was when he crossed the parapet. Before Violet forced him to root for himself again. Before he started training with Liam and working to get stronger. Before he made friends. 

People who give a shit about him. 

And now there’s a voice in his mind, a fact that he refuses to contemplate further in that moment, telling him to take control and he finds himself willing to listen. 

He wants to be better than he once was. He told Violet he was finished running away from the things that scare him—even if that may be the things he is capable of. 

The cadet twitches and Ivan knows his time for contemplation is over. Without giving himself a chance to hesitate, he reaches forward and sinks his dagger into his neck where he knows a major artery is. As he pulls back the blade, Ivan throws himself back to avoid the blood that pours out in quick, violent spurts. 

The cadet tenses and twitches for several long moments, not even a minute, before falling eerily still. 

Ivan numbly reaches to check for a pulse and confirms that he's dead. He stands up on shakily legs and makes it a few feet away before his stomach upends itself. 

Leaning down to clutch at his knees, he vomits violently until his meager breakfast is gone and all that’s left is bile and the memory of how it felt to watch a man’s life drain from his body. 

When he finally looks up, he’s surprised by the persistent tugging in his chest, stronger than before. He’s caught between the urge to curl up on the ground and soak up the blood leaking from his wound along with the guilt flooding his veins, and the urge to follow. 

‘Are you quite finished?’ that same voice calls out. 

“S-sorry,” he mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

‘Do not apologize,’ she lectures. ‘We must break you of that pesky habit.’

“We?” he risks asking. 

‘We,’ she repeats, voice steeped in meaning. ‘Now… take a step in the direction of your future. That is all that is required of you.’ 

For the second time in his life, Ivan shuts up and listens to that direction. He follows that invisible thread that seemed to connect to a place behind his ribcage, away from the wooded area he had been exploring, hand weakly holding his wound. 

When he clears the trees, he feels a gust of wind against his face that makes him gasp. He looks up to see a brown clubtail landing in the open field. She’s not nearly the size of some of the other dragons he’s seen, but the ground still shakes at her landing. She's beautiful. 

For once, Ivan feels no fear at the awe-inspiring sight of a dragon. He knows in his soul, even before she shares her full name, that she is there for him. She is his, and he is hers in return. 

'My name is Labhairteach, but you may call me Labhair. You made me wait, Ivan Luperco. Do not let it happen again.'

Chapter Text

After surviving Threshing, Ivan has mixed feelings about everything, but they are skewed dramatically towards the positive for once in his life. 

He was chosen by a dragon. He was being moved to a squad full of people who treat him well, with his two favorite people in the quadrant, and he doesn’t have to leave behind his close third. 

Sorry, Liam, he apologizes mentally to the person who used to be an easy second place. But Ridoc is a disarming kind of sincere that manages to absolutely floor him, and Ivan is becoming way too dependent on the boy to brighten his day. It’s a problem.

He still comes after Violet though—which means that watching the girl storm out of the dining hall after hearing the news of the squad changes leaves him mildly devastated. Seeing his expression drop, Ridoc bumps their shoulders together and lowers his voice. 

“She is going to be so excited once she stops being mad at Riorson,” Ridoc reminds him with a bright grin. “I know I am.” 

Ivan flushes and tries to paste on a real smile. “I know. It’s just…” 

“What?” Ridoc asks, dropping his voice further. Ivan looks over and finds Rhiannon and Sawyer deep in conversation. “Why do you look so sad? This is good news.”

He turns back to Ridoc with a purposefully light smile. “I know. I guess… for a second, I was worried Violet resented the fact that she’d have to take care of me even more now. I wouldn’t have survived this long without her.” Not to mention that cadet who passed out during their challenge. Ridoc opens his mouth, but Ivan continues speaking quietly. “I know she doesn’t feel that way, when I think about it rationally. Vi is so nice to me. I mean it, she’s much nicer to me than she is to anyone else. But I still feel… guilty, you know, that I didn’t get here with my own two feet.” 

Labhair chuffs at him gently in reproach. ‘The silver one was quite clear about her reasons for being upset. Deigh’s rider is the one who should likely feel fear. Sgaeyl’s rider can fend for himself.’

‘I know,’ he tells his dragon softly. ‘I know it wasn’t about me. It doesn’t make it easier.’ 

‘It would be easiest not to invent reasons to be upset,’ she responds, voice edging into impatience—as Ivan has quickly discovered she tends to do when he questions her about this supposed self-worth of his she keeps talking about. 

He thinks about how he can explain anxiety to a dragon and his mind is blank. If he had to guess, such bouts of irrationality are beyond his dragon's understanding. 

Ridoc finally breaks his silence. “Do you wanna know what I think, Ivan?” 

He blinks. “Like on a specific topic?” 

The shorter boy laughs like he said something funny. “I think,” he emphasizes, “that you are altogether too caught up in what brought you here and not what’s waiting for you. You just claimed a dragon. You were moved into a squad of people who care about you. We’re riders now, Ivan. Just… enjoy it.” 

Ivan blinks in surprise. Enjoy it. He can do that. Probably. Truthfully, he’s never had much cause to practice. 

—

Violet finds Ivan two days later before their study group and he slows down his pace in consideration for the length of her legs as they stroll towards the commons. 

“Hi Ivan,” she says with a bright smile. 

“Hi Vi,” Ivan responds, an easy grin in place. After breakfast their first morning as riders, Violet has been nothing but her usual slightly intimidating, but otherwise caring self. It soothes his irrational worries that she’s upset he joined her squad. 

“I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing alright. I was pretty in my own head for the last couple of days. Are you adjusting well?”

He nods. “Of course. It helps that I already know most of the first-years.” He’s choosing to ignore the long challenging glare he was gifted by Imogen at dinner. He’ll have to do something about that… eventually… 

“Is there anyone from Second Squad I need to worry about?” she asks casually. Too casually for him not to realize that it is her main concern. 

Ivan stops walking in surprise. “What?” 

“Is anybody giving you problems?” Violet asks again. “I’d also love to know more about the person who attacked you during Threshing… mainly whether or not he’s still breathing. If he is… well, don’t worry about that.” 

“What?” he repeats himself. 

“You were attacked,” she reminds him. “You never told me what happened.” 

“You, uh, don’t have to worry about him,” Ivan admits quietly. He can’t bring himself to say anything else. He’s dreamt about it every single night since. 

Her eyes soften and she reaches forward to wrap a hand around his shoulder in comfort. “I am so thankful that you are here today, Ivan,” Violet tells him simply. “You deserve to be a rider.” 

“It’s because of you.” 

“No, it’s not,” she argues. “Dragons see through things like that. You were chosen out there, regardless of the tools you had in your pocket. Tools that were there because you have people who care about you.” 

‘I like this one,’ Labhair chimes in. Ivan had sort of figured that out already. 

“My dragon likes you,” Ivan says without thinking, to Labhair’s horror. 

‘Do not tell her that,’ she growls, making Ivan wince in response. ‘Dragons must maintain a particular amount of disinterest.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Ivan tells her guiltily. 

“That’s good to hear. She’s beautiful,” Violet replies with a shy look on her face, a strange contrast to her anger in the moments before. 

Labhair preens and Ivan hopes it softens her rage. 

It doesn’t. 

‘You may tell her that her poisons are impressive… for a human. Now the next time you speak of my feelings thoughtlessly, I will tell Aotrom to pass along a message to the loud one,’ she threatens, making Ivan pale. ‘Do not subject me to communicating with that winged pest.’ 

Despite the threat, he reminds himself to ask more about Ridoc’s dragon later. 

“She says your poisons are impressive for a human,” Ivan reports word for word. 

“Tell her I said thank you.” The deceptively small girl flushes at the praise, eyes going distant in a way that says she’s probably communicating with her dragon too. 

Ivan wonders if he’ll ever get used to that. 

“Thank you,” he says instead in a quiet voice. 

Violet just sighs, locking her arm around his elbow and tugging him along to keep moving down the corridor. “You never have to thank me, Ivan. It doesn't matter what squad you’re in. You’re one of us. And even if you don’t need it, I’m always going to be here.” 

He swallows back the emotion caught in his throat. “I, uh, I’ll try not to be a burden.” 

Violet’s eyes light up with a surprising spark of anger on her face that he tries not to flinch at. “You are never a burden,” she says fiercely. “Who said that?” 

He snorts in surprise and it turns into a chuckle. “Riorson was right when he called you Violence,” he says incredulously, watching her flush from the corner of his eye. Ivan finds the expression incredibly interesting, but he values his life too much to ask—which is a new feeling in and of itself. “You don’t have to fight everyone for my honor, you know?”

Ivan feels the movement of her shoulder when she shrugs. “I don’t have to do anything.” 

“Part of me still doesn’t understand,” he admits quietly. “This isn’t a place where people look out for others like that—squad connections notwithstanding.” 

Violet is the one that stops them this time, tilting her head to look at him. “I’ve had many things that I care about taken from me in my life, Ivan. My brother, my father,”—Ivan is shocked by the naked pain that flashes across her face as her voice catches, but he supposes it’s hard to recover from the loss of a parent—“time with my sister, any relationship with my mother… I’ve lost family, friends, countless hours of preparation, and suffered from the perceived limitations of my body every step along the way.” 

Ivan swallows, and waits for her to continue. 

Violet stares at his face for a minute. “I don’t plan on letting anyone take anything else from me, not without a fight,” she tells him solemnly, making it clear that she considers Ivan one of hers, before affection floods her eyes. “Besides, I’ll like having you around more. For the record, Xaden including you in his scheme to protect me, and not leaving you alone, is the only reason he’s been pardoned for his crimes.” 

He flushes at her words, body light and buoyant as she soothes all his fears. He doesn’t doubt that Violet would have found a way to make Riorson suffer if she wanted to. “I’ll try my best to hang in there then.” 

She nods once. “You better,” she threatens. “Now let’s go. I want to go over your essay. I know you were putting off your outline on the off-chance you die.” Obviously. Why would Ivan want to spend his possible last two days alive doing History revisions? “But now you don’t have much time. I bet you five candies that Ridoc also hasn’t started.” 

Laughing to himself, Ivan and Violet keep walking towards the commons. 

“I think I’ll like being a part of Iron Squad,” he says honestly. “But you’ll have to take it easy on me.” 

Violet laughs loudly, drawing attention from the few people littering the corridor. “Always,” she promises easily. 

—

“Ow,” Sawyer whines, rubbing his hand where Violet had poked him with her quill for not paying attention. “You’re so mean to me.” 

“I’m mean because I care,” Violet retorts, pushing his papers closer to his face. “Now get to work or I’m going to let Ridoc do your revisions. Neither of you want that.”

“Hey!” Both boys protest in unison and the table laughs, especially Liam, who is joining them for the first time. 

“Can I at least have more candy to keep me going?” Sawyer asks with a pout. 

“Do you deserve candy?” she asks, raising one eyebrow in clear disbelief. Ivan knows what her answer is. 

Sawyer presses his lips into a tight line and sinks down deeper into his chair, picking back up his quill. “You give extra to Ivan when he asks,” he mutters under his breath. 

Violet shrugs. “Well, he’s my favorite,” she responds with a crooked grin. Ivan’s cheeks flush in delight. 

Ridoc laughs loudly and pats Sawyer back comfortingly. “We all knew that,” he teases. And Ivan did—know that, that is. But it’s still nice to hear. “Now that he’s on the squad, the rest of us don’t stand a chance. Except maybe Rhi.” 

Rhiannon looks up from where she is being productive on her own, tossing one of her candies into her mouth and holding it in her cheek with a smirk. “As long as we all understand the natural order of things. Violet has more than enough murderously protective tendencies to go around.”

“Hey!” the girl in question squawks in protest. 

—

‘So what’s the history with you and Ridoc’s dragon?’ Ivan tries that night before falling asleep. 

‘He is an annoyance for which there is no relief,’ Labhair snarls out immediately, almost instinctively, making him laugh in surprise. 

‘What does that mean?’ Ivan asks once he gets his giggles until control. 

Labhair’s flash of irritation is genuine. ‘We are in the same den. It is not right to speak ill of other dragons… but I will say that Aotrom has had the same disposition since he was a hatchling and there is only so much a she-dragon can take.’

Ivan's eyes widen, facing his stone ceiling thoughtfully. ‘What does he do to upset you?’ 

‘You do not need to know that,’ Labhair says dismissively, and Ivan decides to let the conversation drop. However, before he can say goodnight, Labhair is speaking again, words slow and bitten out like human muttering. ‘All you need to know is that if he continues to test me, your loud one may have some difficulties taking to the sky for the foreseeable future.’ 

Ivan feels a moment of sympathy for the dragon who seems determined to bother Labhair and incite her fury. Unlike Ivan himself, his dragon has no problem making it known when she is upset. 

He wonders if Ridoc knows the story of what happened between their two brown dragons. Probably not, given how private they tend to be.

As his consciousness fades into darkness, Ivan’s last coherent thought is that he’s thankful for the vicious women in his life who seemed determined to both protect him and force him to believe in himself. He’d much rather be by their side than in front of their warpath.

Chapter Text

“You are the worst,” Ivan huffs out, leaning back on Ridoc in laughter the minute they are out of earshot of Violet, Liam, and the closet in question. 

“I can’t help it,” he giggles, pulling him along so they don’t get caught laughing at the scariest cadet on the squad. 

“You know there’s nothing going on between her and Liam,” he responds with a laugh. “You just love to be a menace.” 

“You know me so well,” he says with a bright smile. “Want to go back to my room? I really did want to hear that egg story.” 

“I thought we were going on a walk,” he says. 

Ridoc shrugs. “Yeah, but I figured this is one of those topics we should be—what’s that word people use?” He asks jokingly. “Oh, that’s right—discreet about.” 

He nods in understanding. Ivan knows that the wrong people learning about Violet’s little poison habit could be disastrous. Though if her discipline comes down to her Wingleader, he suspects that she'll probably be fine. 

Even if Violet wasn't walking around looking so pleased with herself all the time, the way that Riorson's eyes are on her whenever they're in the same room is a dead giveaway. He's not surprised that they're together. However, he does admit that he expected Riorson to be a bit less conspicuous.  

Sure, they're not kissing in front of the quadrant—but Ivan doesn't understand how anyone who had seen him pre-Violet Sorrengail could take one look at Riorson now and not know.

Ivan follows Ridoc back to his room silently. It’s not the first time they’ve hung out privately, but it’s rare enough that Ivan feels an odd discomfort settle in his bones. 

He hasn’t had friends that he’s casually spent time with in a very long time. 

‘Oh, so you’re uncomfortable because you’re not used to… friendship?’ Labhair questions with clear disbelief. 

Ivan reminds himself that telling the large flying creature that carries him around frequently to shut up would be a terrible idea. 

‘That’s me,’ he defends weakly. ‘General discomfort. Bad with people. The usual.’ 

‘So it has nothing to do with…’ 

‘Ah, I think that’s enough out of you right now!’ Ivan says immediately. ‘Point taken.’ 

Labhair’s waves of amusement are still taunting him when Ridoc unlocks his door, complaining about still having to use keys. 

“You’ll be able to use lesser magic before you know it,” Ivan reassures him as he settles on Ridoc’s desk chair. “I’m sure Aotrom will start channeling to you soon.” 

He hears Labhair huff in annoyance, as she tends to do whenever the other brown dragon is mentioned. Flight lessons have been especially interesting.

Ridoc nods happily. “We have a bet going on about it,” he confides in a lowered voice despite them being the only two in the room. 

“A bet?” Ivan questions with wide eyes. He takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up on the chair so he can rest his arms on his bent knees.

“A bet,” Ridoc says decisively. “Aotrom loves bets. He says it’s one of the best things about humanity.” 

Ivan almost flinches at Labhair’s answering scoff.  

“When did you find this out?” Ivan asks. It’s not his only question, but it’s the one that escapes first. 

“Threshing.” His tone is so matter-of-fact that Ivan doesn’t doubt it for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, are you saying that there was a bet involved in your Threshing?” Try as he might, and he’s not trying very hard, he can’t keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. "What, did he challenge you to something before you bonded?"

“That’d be telling. Ancient dragon secrets and what-not,” Ridoc teases with a bright grin that takes over his entire face. 

Ivan chokes on his bubbling laughter, holding the back of the chair to brace himself as he dissolves into delirium. “Y-you and your dragon are so much alike,” he manages, chest heaving from the effort. 

“Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing!” Ridoc complains, reclining back on his elbow where he’s laying across his bed on his side. “Aotrom is awesome.” 

“I’m sure he is,” he says consolingly, still trying to suppress his giggles. “I haven’t gotten the chance to know him.” 

Ridoc chuckles. “That might be difficult, given the circumstances.” 

No longer laughing, Ivan blinks in horror. “Does your dragon… hate me?” 

Lifting up both hands to wave in front of him, Ridoc falls back onto the bed without the one underneath him supporting his body any longer. “Shit!” He swears as he struggles for a moment to sit up, finally grunting at the effort. Even his panic, Ivan bites back the urge to laugh again. “No way! My dragon doesn’t hate you! I don’t think Aotrom hates anyone.” 

“Oh,” he says, calming down immediately. 

“My sweet friend, you have got to stop assuming that everyone hates you,” Ridoc chastises him with an amused quirk to his eyebrow. 

“You’re the one who was vague!” Ivan complains, rolling his eyes at his friend's lecturing tone. “And I am working off several years of evidence…” 

Ridoc snickers at his offense, ignoring his self-deprecation. “Alright, that is my mistake! I just meant that your pretty dragon doesn’t want to get near the two of us!”

“Oh,” Ivan repeats, wincing slightly at the reminder. “You, uh, know something about that.” 

“Of course I do! Poor Aotrom!” Ridoc's eyes widen dramatically. 

“What?” Ivan asks slowly, pushing down the urge to become immediately defensive of his dragon. He’d say ‘Poor Labhair,’ but she’d take mortal offense. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Your dragon holds a grudge,” Ridoc says knowingly and Ivan is struck by curiosity like a physical blow. 

“A grudge."

He nods frantically. “They’re from the same den, obviously, but Labhair is a few years older,” he begins his story with dramatic effect. Ivan can’t believe that Aotrom actually shared the story where he had been too scared to ask. 

‘Filthy gossip,’ Labhair snarls. ‘He cares not for his pride as a dragon.’ 

“Now! He hasn't told me the whole story, but when Aotrom was a hatchling, he was clumsy”—‘Was?’ Labhair adds—“and he wanted to be her friend. But he kept causing problems.” 

“Problems?” Ivan asks, trying to imagine a young hatchling trying to get Labhair's attention, even if she was only a few years older.

Ridoc nods, leaning forward on his side and propping his head up on his elbow resting on the bed. “She scolded him a lot, and he took that as a reason to try and prove himself—which for dragons is, like, a whole thing.” 

“A whole thing?” Ivan asks, lips quirking into a smile against his will.

“Yeah! But that didn't go well either… either way, Labhair still blames him for stuff from years ago! Unfair, don’t you think?” Ridoc asks with wide pleading eyes. “He just wanted to be close, and she wouldn't give him a chance.” 

Shaking his head at his dramatics, Ivan’s mind travels to his dragon. ‘Do you plan on chiming in?’ 

‘The loud one says I am being unfair,’ she scoffs. ‘I humor Aotrom's presence because he is of my den, and now we are forced into proximity more often than ever. That is unfair.’

Ivan feels another wave of sympathy for Ridoc’s dragon. ‘Maybe he really does just want to be your friend,’ he offers hesitantly. 

‘He thrives on bothering me,’ Labhair argues, ‘not that it is any of your business. Now stop gossiping before I drop you into a lake.’

“Maybe he just comes on too strong,” Ivan offers Ridoc instead, knowing danger when he hears it—like he did in his dragon’s voice. Ivan’s self-preservation instinct is still alive and well. “Labhair is… particular,” he begins carefully.

"Don't you think she should be a little nicer to him, though?" Ridoc pouts in response. 

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. "Even for you, I will not be starting that fight," Ivan says with a decisive nod. "Or they'll be fishing me out of the water the next time we have flight lessons."

Ridoc throws his head back in laughter, leaning back and looking up at Ivan with a wide grin. "Oh, we can't have that." His smile turns mischievous and Ivan feels the skin at the back of his neck prickle. Fucking sh— "What do mean even for me?"

Ivan presses his lips together and looks to the center of Ridoc's forehead to try and mimic eye contact. "I meant that you're not the type to give up at the scent of gossip," he offers as quickly as he can, probably too quickly.

With another chuckle, Ridoc leans forward, precariously balancing on his elbow. "You can just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say I'm your favorite member of the squad!" Ridoc exclaims loudly. "It's okay to admit it. Nobody will judge you for that here. I'm also a fan."

Ivan just stares at him for a moment before his shoulders start shaking and he can't hold back anymore, laughter overwhelming his inhibitions. He half-collapses on Ridoc's desk to hold himself up, legs dropping to the floor when he can't hold then up any longer. "You—" he tries, but it turns into another giggle. "You have enough self-esteem that we could share."

"That's a great idea!" Ridoc says suddenly.

"What?" Ivan asks, sobering up slightly. "That wasn't an idea, Ridoc. It was a joke."

"Almost all of my best ideas began as jokes," Ridoc says seriously. That… seems about right. "But I just meant that I can show you how to be more confident, you know? Remind you that not everybody hates you, and that you deserve to be here."

"You already do that," Ivan says softly. "All of you do," he adds after a moment. "Everyone is amazing."

His brows furrow. "But I want to help. I… worry about you sometimes. You're so different when we're alone or with our friends. With anyone else, you shrivel up and it makes me sad."

You shrivel up and it makes me sad.

Ivan doesn't know whether to be offended, touched, or embarrassed. He blinks.

"Not that you need me!" Ridoc says suddenly, voice rushing to explain. "I know you're making progress on your own! I just mean… I have all this unearned confidence to share, you know?" His pitch rises on the last words and causes him to wince. 

Ivan has never seen the boy anything less than completely certain of himself before.

"It's not unearned, Ridoc," he tells him with a soft smile and a shake of his head, deciding to feel touched—and maybe a little embarrassed. "But you don't have to do anything special to make me feel better around the quadrant. That sort of just happens."

The tension bleeds from his shoulders at Ivan's words, and Ridoc's grin turns back to teasing easily. "Because I'm your favorite?"

"No way," Ivan answers, shaking his head. "Violet is my favorite forever."

His mouth drops. "No fair! She met you before I could! Is this because she dotes on you? I can dote!"

Ivan just continues shaking his head. "Sorry," he says, voice entirely unapologetic. "Nothing you can do about it. Unless you want to take it up with the girl herself."

Ridoc shudders. "Fuck that. And end up face-first in the eggs? I'm dying in a cool way or not at all."

He stares for a long time. "Or not at all?"

"That's what I said," Ridoc says with a wild grin. "Not. At. All."

Ivan nods like that makes sense. "She won't go for your breakfast," he soothes. "Probably."

"Yeah, you're right," Ridoc says suddenly. "I haven't broken one of the two sacred rules of being on Violet Sorrengail's good side."

"Oh?" Ivan asks curiously. "What are the two rules?"

"The first one is self-explanatory. Do not fuck with the marked ones."

Ivan nods, eyes going far away. "I wish she would stop being quite so reactionary sometimes—at least when it comes to me. I know she already has a target on her back but I don't want any misplaced aggression sent to her."

Ridoc sits up on the bed and scoots towards the head so he can sit at eye-level with Ivan, knees a few inches apart. "Violet doesn't care about any of that. In fact, she'd probably prefer it. She can take care of herself, you know?"

"I know," Ivan says in a low voice. "I just wish she didn't have to do it."

"Next time somebody fucks with you, you could always be the one to tell them to go fuck themselves with the business end of a dagger and then spin, or whatever unhinged shit Violet says," Ridoc offers.

They both laugh loudly at his words. "V-Violet isn't that vulgar!" Ivan defends as soon as he can manage words. "She'd just…" his voice trails off for a moment. "Oh! She'd ask very nicely if the person had a death wish. When they ask what she's talking about, she'd smile and tell them something about how she's so kind and would love to help. Probably while twirling her dagger like a toy."

Ridoc cackles at the image. "Okay, you win. I can literally picture her doing that clear as day."

"I know because she's my favorite," Ivan adds impishly.

"Hey," he complains, tossing one of his pillows at Ivan who flinches back to catch it, huffing in annoyance as he shifts the pillow to hug it to his chest. "No need to rub it in!"

"You're a close second," Ivan sighs out as he leans his chin against the edge of the cushion, like his admission was an exhausting chore. "Don't tell Liam."

A small part of Ivan feels bad for making the joke considering how nice the blonde is, but Ridoc's enthusiastic grin makes it worth it. "Deal! I'll take second," he exclaims with a smile.

Ivan just shakes his head fondly as they settle into a comfortable silence. "Hey, wait!" he says suddenly and sits up straighter.

"What?"

"What's the second rule of being on Violet's good side?"

Ridoc's kind, brown eyes sparkle with something that makes Ivan's stomach clench as he pauses before the punchline. "You don't make fun of her height."

Ivan's shoulders shake as he can't control his laugher, and Ridoc joins him in collapsing back against his remaining pillow in a breathless heap.

"That's a safe bet," Ivan wheezes out.

"Those are the two lessons you have to learn quickly," Ridoc insists. "I am a people person, so I pick up on these things."

That statement rings true. "You are," he agrees. "You're probably better with people than anyone I've ever met."

Ridoc blinks in surprise. "What?" His voice is dripping in so much genuine confusion that makes Ivan's own confusion turn to upset. "Oh, because I sleep around?" Ridoc says, laughing to himself and reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I guess that takes a certain charm."

"What?" Ivan snaps without thinking. "Shut the fuck up. What?"

Ridoc's mouth hangs open for a moment. "Did you just—am I supposed to be talking or not?"

Deciding to be mortified for his outburst later, Ivan's eyes narrow in response. "No, you listen. That's not what I was saying at fucking all," he settles on eventually, forcing himself to make eye contact and keep it. "Who you sleep with has nothing to do with who you are. I meant the way you just seem to… see people."

If anything, his confusion seems to grow as his brows pull together. "What do you mean?"

Ivan's breath catches at the vulnerability in Ridoc's voice, and he takes a moment to gather his words carefully. "I mean… it's the way you always know what people need. You… you look at people and you know if they need to laugh, or cry, or be angry. You know if I need the attention on somewhere other than my face before I implode," he adds sheepishly. "I watch you do it with everyone, just because they're lucky enough to be counted as one of your people."

Ridoc stares at him for a moment of stunned silence, and Ivan can't help but continue softly. He is sure that he'll regret every moment of this later, but it's unacceptable that Ridoc doesn't see how exceptional he is and how much he contributes to the squad.

"You've always seen me," Ivan whispers. "It has nothing to do with who you can charm. It's just you, okay? You're good at being what somebody needs, and in a place this shitty, what they need is usually a laugh. But that's not all there is to you."

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Ridoc's face eventually breaks into a wide smile. "I can't believe you told me to shut the fuck up. This is the best day of my life."

Ivan's entire face blooms with color and he lifts the pillow to cover himself with a loud groan. "You are the worst," he grumbles for the second time today. 

"If I'm the worst and I'm your second favorite, what does that say about you?" Ridoc responds with a teasing smile that Ivan can hear.

"Clearly that I need to re-examine my taste," Ivan mutters into the soft material of Ridoc's pillow, trying to ignore how much of his usual scent is concentrated into the fabric.

'My thoughts exactly,' Labhair chimes in, clearly still offended at Ridoc's defense of his dragon earlier.

"I'm just saying," Ridoc continues as if he didn't hear him, "Telling me, your second favorite, to shut the fuck up is huge. You'll be telling those assholes from your old squad to sit and spin in no time."

Ivan drops the pillow to glare at him, ignoring the redness still staining his cheeks. "Stop teasing me!"

"I'm serious," he insists. "You don't have a reason to keep your voice to yourself anymore, Ivan. We all want to hear it." Ridoc's terrible sincerity makes Ivan want to retreat and crawl closer at the same time. "Maybe it's time you start standing up for yourself more outside of just defending Violet. You're allowed to defend yourself too."

"Maybe," Ivan says after a long time, surprised to find that he means it. He can't lie and say that the thought of confrontation doesn't make him want to run and hide. But he's not the person who almost ended up dead at the bottom of the ravine. He's a rider now.

"I believe in you," Ridoc adds with a smile that makes Ivan groan and throw the pillow he's been clutching back at his face just to break the eye contact. He just laughs and grabs it out of the air.

Ridoc makes him feel the way that Violet did on that very first day, like… Ivan can do anything, even if he has to do it scared. There is no waiting for the panic to pass. Life is about putting one foot in front of the other even when it might be easier to give up. Life is about finding out what lives on the other side of the fear. 

Maybe. Ivan is admittedly new to the whole optimism thing. He still has his reservations.

"See, a pillow is good, but a sharp blade of some sort would be better," Ridoc says with a theatrical look of consideration, holding his chin while tapping against his bottom lip in thought. "That method is proven to work on the Iron Squad."

"Don't tempt me," Ivan grumbles, eyes lingering on Ridoc's pointer finger for just a moment too long. 

Ridoc makes him feel brave, but not fucking brave enough for that.

Chapter Text

“We are not dying today, do you understand me?”

Violet Sorrengail. She may be little—embarrassingly shorter than him really from the way she dispatched the threat to his life—but she is fierce. 

He'll never forget the look of her standing in the rain, dagger in hand, not even sparing a glance at the man she just sentenced to death for Ivan's sake.

“Now we’re both here, on the parapet, and all we can do is prove them wrong. Now take another step.”

He couldn’t, could he?

“We’ll say ‘fuck you’ to the people who called us weak together, okay?”

Maybe he could.

General Lilith Sorrengail oversaw the first worst day of his life: his parents’ execution. 

Yet her daughter saved him on the second worst. And then went on to save him again and again and again.

—

The morning of War Games, Ivan wakes from his dream of the parapet with a strange tingle under his skin and a knot in his stomach.

There is a lingering sense of dread as his ticking clock runs out. He began channeling in December... it's May. His first thought when he opens his eyes is wondering if today is the day he blows up. That'd be a shame. 

However, the reality manages to be even more brutal than he ever could have imagined.

"I know, my heart. I love you. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow too. Because you're not fucking going anywhere," Riorson swears.

Violet Sorrengail saved him and now Ivan is watching her die—surrounded by the weight of a love that threatens to crush all of them, like his adoration is a threat to any bystanders who dare to look too long. As if the waves of darkness are not warning enough.

The shadow wielder's words are fierce, but the hands brushing back Violet's hair from her face are gentle. Too gentle, in a way that forces Ivan to reevaluate everything he ever thought he knew about Xaden Riorson.

Violet leans weakly into his touch as if it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

Ivan's skin crawls at the wrongness of seeing the girl laying in pool of her own blood. Iron Squad's smallest member has always seemed so deceptively strong, an unlikely pillar of strength for Ivan to look towards when he felt like he could no longer keep moving.

"I-if you don't follow…" Violet starts weakly, but Riorson scoffs. His eyes are lit up with a rage that would have sent Ivan running under any other circumstances.

"I am following you," he swears to her stubbornly, eyes flooding with emotion. "Anywhere you fucking go, I'm going too, dragon bond or not. My heart only beats as long as yours does."

Ivan doesn't doubt it. In that moment, he has no doubt that if Violet dies today, their Wingleader will follow. Even if he has to take matters into his own hands.

He blinks through the steady flow of tears.

The hulking black dragon—that he's been trying dutifully to forget is right fucking behind him—leans over and has a silent exchange with Riorson.

"I am so fucking sorry about this," Riorson whispers in the seconds before he reaches forward to pull her mangled body onto his lap.

Violet screams in pain, hands shooting out to grip Riorson's shoulder and his arm. Ivan gently holds Violet bare forearm in return, choking on the force of his sobs.

She's cold—too fucking cold.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," Riorson repeats mindlessly, expression drawn tight with guilt at Violet's sounds of pain.

"Wait," Violet calls out, the force of her grip weakening with each passing moment.

"Violence, we need to go," he insists, more tears falling.

Tears.

If Ivan wasn't too busy dodging the pieces of his breaking heart, he would have passed out in surprise.

"It h-hurts," Violet wails, eyes watering in her agony. "I can't block it out anymore."

Her words hit everyone surrounding her like a physical blow, and they all flinch and choke on their next breathe. Violet's expression bleeds resignation with her fate, and they all refuse to allow her that liberty.

No, no, no.

Ivan's blood boils in his veins, and he feels a burning in the relic on his chest. The same burning that he felt throughout the entire battle.

Is this Labhair's power finally backfiring on him? The dark optimist in him realizes that he won't be particularly sad if he blows up, not if it means he doesn't have to see this. 

But that's the coward's way. Ivan is still fucking here and if he has to survive, so does Violet. She forced him to take another step, didn't she?

This can't be the ending to her story. 

Violet hisses in surprise and glances down the forearm Ivan has in a death grip. He releases it quickly, scared that he caused her any unnecessary hurt.

"W-what?" She mumbles, scream turning into a throaty grunt when Riorson readjusts her in his arms. "That doesn't feel great."

"Ivan…" He hears Liam's voice, but Ivan hesitates to turn towards him.

While Liam's burns along his right arm and torso aren't immediately life-threatening, he knows they're painful. Seeing one of his friends in agonizing pain is Ivan's limit.

His relic itches relentlessly under his leathers.

A hiss of pain draws Ivan's attention for a moment, and he sees Liam adjust to sit straight, carefully cradling his injured arm. He reaches forward with his other arm before Riorson can stand to grasp his shoulder.

"Xaden," he tells him firmly, holding him down with all the strength he has left. "Put Violet down."

He freezes and turns to him in clear anger. For all their history, Riorson looks ready to strike his foster brother down. "Are you out of your mind? Get out of my way."

Liam shakes his head stubbornly, but Ivan can see the way that the blonde's face is beaded with sweat from exertion. He is deathly pale, and a glance at the angry, blistered skin peeking out through his sleeve makes Ivan's stomach clench.

"Just… just put her down for a minute, okay?" Liam bargains carefully, like he was dealing with a feral animal. Maybe he is. Riorson looks ready to bite everyone in the vicinity, especially Liam's offending limb, if only so he can keep both hands on Violet.

"Fuck that. Now remove your hand before I do it for you."

There it is.

"Xaden!" Liam snaps, eyes flashing with an uncharacteristic fire. Ivan is surprised he's able to persist through the pain of his burns. "Just fucking listen to me. Do you really think I would ever do anything to hurt her?"

Violet makes a sound of discontent at their argument, and draws his attention from the two men locked in a silent battle. He recognizes the heartbreak in her eyes as she watches two people she loves fight in what she assumes are her final moments.

Ivan wishes more than anything that he was a stronger man, and he was capable of knocking sense into the two of them.

"The only thing I'm listening to is Violet's heartbeat," Riorson tells him, a statement and a threat rolled into one.

"What the fuck happened to Violet?" a familiar voice bellows. 

Ivan looks up and sees the large group gathering. The rest of the Iron Squad had finally landed, joining Caroline Aston's entire squad as bystanders. They were the first to arrive.

All of those fucking assholes were hanging around waiting for the moment Violet's lightning stopped. He's almost certain that Tairn's vigil over her fallen form is the only reason none of them try to finish the job.

It's Aetos, running from the direction of his dragon, whose angry words break through. Ivan's heart breaks more fully at Ridoc and Sawyer close behind, both of their eyes blown wide with the same fear.

They're stopped by the perimeter created by Riorson's shadows.

"Caroline fucking Aston happened," Rhiannon yells back.

One of the First Wing's braver cadets answers. "Yeah? And what the fuck happened to her?"

Aetos tears his wide, heartbroken eyes away from Violet—Ivan remembers that they've been friends since Violet was five—and glares at the speaker with a vitriol he doesn't expect from their even-tempered Squad Leader.

"Aston got what she fucking deserved," Garrick bites back, standing as close to Xaden's back as his powers allow. Imogen arrives with the rest of them, and immediately joins him the edge of the billowing darkness. "This is a mock battle."

"No, it's War Games," he replies without an ounce of compassion. "Now since she's not going to make it, can we get back to it? We both lost one."

Riorson whips his head around to look behind him. When he speaks, Ivan doesn't have to see his face to know that it is with the threat of violence lacing every word.

"Fuck War Games." The speaker takes several steps back, previously boldness nowhere to be found. "I don't know who the fuck you are nor do I care, but congratulations. If she dies, so do you," he promises the nameless first-year in a voice so low that Ivan barely catches it. 

The only reason he knows it isn't a figment of his imagination is the way that the cadet pales and sways on his feet in fear. He caught every word. 

Liam clears his throat weakly to try and get Riorson's attention. His face, already bloodless, worsens with each passing moment he forces himself to be up and alert.

"Xaden, I get it," he tries with a more gentle hand. "Violet is all that matters. Trust me. Just… set her down."

"Why?" Riorson asks as his head swings back around, eyes wild.

"I have a plan," Liam breaths out shakily. "One that might be better than trying to get her back to the flight fields."

"What plan?"

Liam hesitates, glancing in Ivan's direction. "You have to trust me," he repeats.

"Give me a fucking reason then!" Riorson snaps, voice still angry but controlled.

Violet groans unhappily at the sound of their fighting.

"Please, Xay," Liam begs, voice raising in his desperation as tears gather in his blue eyes. "Please, I know—" he breaks off suddenly, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "I know you trusted me to keep her safe and I failed. Again. This is my fault, but you just… you have to just listen to me. Please."

Ivan watches in surprise as his words seem to break through Riorson's haze of anger. He freezes, attention locked on Liam for a long time.

"I trust you," he says softly, admittedly softer than Ivan thought he was capable of being with anyone except Violet. "And don't fucking talk like that," he spits out like an afterthought. "She'd hate it. I hate it."

Ivan glances down at Violet, stomach dropping at the tears gathering in her wide and distant eyes.

He has a terrible feeling she is saying her goodbyes to her dragons.

"Thank you," Liam whispers, hands clenched tightly into fists. He sits back weakly onto his heels and Ivan sees the way his body shifts to favor his uninjured side.

"Don't thank me. This plan of yours better fucking work."

Without another word, Riorson sets Violet back down. She groans in pain, but her eyes open and settle with more awareness than she's had for several minutes now.

"Violence, love, can you look at me?" His voice his pleading as Violet blinks into focus.

She swallows loudly and clears her throat, but it ends in a wet cough. Blood leaks from the corner of her mouth and decorates her chin, but she just shifts to look up blearily at Liam. "I'm so happy you were my shadow. Y-you… turned something I learned for survival into something fun."

Her words land like a death blow, forcing all of the air from Liam's body in a ratting, desperate gasp. He opens and closes his mouth, unable to form words as the tears finally break free from the dam and flood down his cheeks.

Before he can try to recover, Violet slowly tilts her head and directs her attention to him.

Oh, gods, no. I can't do this, Ivan thinks desperately as the sobs wrack his chest.

Practice helps with everything except goodbyes, and Ivan is sick and tired of having the people he loves torn from his side.

"Sorry… couldn't keep my promise to you," Violet whispers, eyes swimming in regret. Not just for herself, but for him. "Do it for us, yeah?"

Ivan chokes on his next breath, similarly stuck speechless by Violet's heartfelt goodbye.

This can't be it. It can't be. It's happening again, and he's still powerless to do anything to hold onto the people that matter.

'You are not powerless, Ivan Luperco,' Labhair's voice cuts through his grief. 'You have never been powerless.'

'I am,' he cries out to her, leaning into the weight of their bond to stop himself from falling apart.

Violet's attention is drawn towards where Rhiannon is crying at her feet. "Glad I gave you my little ass boot," she teases with a weak smile. She glares at her fiercely, hand tightening on Violet's ankle.

"You can't do this," Rhiannon mutters under her breathe so quietly that Ivan has to strain his ears to hear. "I can't say goodbye to another sister. Not like this. Not forever."

Violet's eyes are too busy traveling around the crowd to register the words, lingering on the rest of the people who love her.

Her focus slowly returns to Riorson when he caresses her face, gently wiping away the blood staining her pale skin.

"I have no regrets about us… about loving you. Every part of you," Violet tells him with a reverence that Ivan couldn't even begin to contemplate.

"You can't keep your last words, Violence," Riorson admonishes her sharply. "I don't fucking want them. I adore every frighteningly brilliant and viciously beautiful side of you and I plan to worship every single one of them for the rest of our lives, even the ones that you might not want to look at in the mirror.”

Ivan turns his gaze downwards, unable to look at the man who strikes fear in his heart laying down his own at Violet's feet. He's surprised he can't find a bloody dagger strew across the dirt floor.

“You promised me. And we haven’t fucking lied to each other yet, have we? So you better fight, because I’m coming after you if you leave me,” Riorson swears, making it clear that his love knows no bounds—not even those drawn by Malek's own hand.

Violet chokes out a laugh at his words, which seems so terribly out of place at the same time as being so terribly them. Ivan's attention is drawn back towards the terrifying and heartbreaking display beyond his will.

"S-see you on the other side," she manages. "H-hopefully somewhere… softer," she adds with a grimace, and Ivan is relieved to see her humor intact.

He hasn't stopped yet to consider how Liam plans to save her life. He distantly recognizes someone calling his name quietly, but he can't hear past his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums.

"Are you flirting with me right now, Violence?" Riorson teases through his tears, odd nickname falling off his lips with a cadence that reminds Ivan of the way his parents used to say 'I love you.' "You know that all you've ever needed to do to wind up in my bed is ask."

Ivan regrets looking back up at them.

"Always," Violet croaks out, swallowing heavily. Riorson leans forward to press a kiss against her forehead.

"Ivan!" Liam calls out, breaking through his awareness, but not enough to drag his eyes away from the dying girl in front of him. Violet's head lolls slowly in his direction. "You… you really need to listen to me, okay?"

"Violet," he whispers when their eyes meet. "Y-you can't die."

Once again, all he can do is cry out against the unfairness of the world.

"Nobody fucking listens in this damn place," Liam swears under his breath.

Violet's expression softens at whatever she finds there when their eyes meet, and her arm weakly shifts towards Ivan as if she's trying to reach for him in the face of his tears. He stares down numbly at her blood-stained torso, gash tightly encased in layers of shadows.

"Ivan!" Liam screams suddenly, forcing him to flinch and drag his attention away from the blood he suddenly realized was staining his hands too.

Violet's blood.

"You can help her," Liam says seriously when their eyes meet. "You just… you just need to do it. I don't know how, but I know that you can. And I know her chances are better than trying to get her to Nolon right now," he explains brokenly.

Ivan tenses, body burning with fear at the expectation in his gaze. Why the fuck would Liam expect anything from him? Why would anyone?

Any of Ivan's minor successes since he crossed the parapet felt like a joke he was playing on rest the quadrant except they haven't realized yet—not a measure of any real growth. He's not anyone's savior.

He shakes his head rapidly, hiccupping through his tears. "N-no, I c-c-can't! I c-can't help anyone."

Ivan's stammering reminds himself and everyone around him of his innate weakness. He simply wasn't built for people to depend on him.

'You dare say that,' Labhair cuts in sharply. 'When you are sitting above your poisonous friend whose body forces her to adapt to her circumstances every day. Do not make me laugh. Tairn will kill us both.'

He flinches at the reproach.

Liam pushes through his obvious pain to reach out and clasp his shoulder forcefully. "Ivan. Look at me. I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But her arm was injured earlier and now it's not. You are exactly what she needs."

Looking down at the unblemished arm, Ivan refuses to believe it. He refuses to even put words to what Liam is insinuating. It can't be.

"I-I-I—" he stutters out, eyes widening in fear. "I d-don't know."

"Ivan," Riorson says quietly, and he wonders if that's the first time he's ever heard the intimidating man use his first name. "Please, I'm begging you to just try. Please."

Ivan blinks several times at him in surprise. Xaden Riorson begging him for anything isn't a sight he even thought he'd see.

It's a sight he's eager to never see again.

'If you don't do something, he'll probably cry again,' Labhair comments dryly. 'And then start killing people. You should probably try to avoid that.'

Glancing down once more at Violet, who looks like she's fighting against the pull of unconsciousness, Ivan nods slowly. He reaches forward to press his hand over the wound on her stomach.

When the shadows remain, he risks a glance at Riorson, who nods reluctantly and draws away his powers. At the sight of the blood pouring directly from her wound, a gash spanning several inches on her lower stomach under the line of her armored corset, Ivan's stomach drops. 

In the face of his fear, he closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. He has to do this, even if it scares the shit out of him. 

The crowd falls silent, seeming to sense that something is happening. Or nothing—nothing is happening.

"I… I don't know w-what I'm doing!" Ivan yells when his eyes open again in frustration, glancing between the two desperate gazes locked on him, just like everyone else looking at him right now. There are so many fucking people looking at him. "I d-don't know what the fuck I did before!"

Liam was probably having a pain-induced hallucination and all Ivan has done is waste the little time Violet has left.

"Xaden!" Garrick calls out from behind the man. Ivan glances in his direction and notices the taller man's eyes widening with a clear message that he cannot understand.

He can only hope that Garrick has a plan that doesn't include depending on Ivan.

"Okay, okay," Liam cuts in, getting everyone's attention, but he remains focused on Ivan. He is suddenly standing straighter and looking less effected by his burns. "Just breathe and focus on the wound and your connection with your dragon. You've been channeling for months and you know how to do this. You've been getting stronger and preparing for this the entire time—from the moment Violet saved you the parapet."

Ivan swallows thickly at the reminder of everything he owes to the woman in front of him. He nods and tries closing his eyes again, feeling Violet weakly wrap her small hand around his forearm to offer silent support.

She's always there for him, even now.

I can do this, Ivan lies to himself over and over.

He has to, if he is to have any hope of seeing his squad whole again, this tiny piece of something perfect he's managed to hobble together from the remains of his life.

If Violet dies, and all of those who would fall along with her, Iron Squad will never be the same. Her persistent love has felt like as much of a threat as it was a safety blanket at times, and he fears that it's become the linchpin holding their chaotic group together at the seams.

Resonating with Labhair through the bond, Ivan feeds the flame of his powers, a warm campfire in his mindscape under the open night sky. The blaze inches higher, and Ivan can feel the warmth ghosting along in his face, spreading through his body in a way that seems to burn.

He senses the moment that his magic finds its target. Suddenly, even with his eyes squeezed shut, Ivan can see the wound. He can gauge the edges of the cut through the blood, and where the dagger pierced through the muscle and soft tissue of her belly.

The blade had nicked the bottom of her ribcage, and sliced upwards and through her intestines until the sharp edge kissed her spleen.

It's an overwhelming realization that while Ivan can see it, he doesn't know what comes next.

'Breathe, Dear One,' Labhair advises softly. He inhales shakily. 'Start where makes the most sense. Every journey is just placing one foot in front of the other—for those without wings of course.'

Start where makes the most sense. One foot in front of the other.

Now take another step.

His dragon's words blend with his memories of Violet's initial orders on Conscription Day in a vicious storm, until his body is shaking with the pressure of his power gathering under his skin, just waiting for a way out. Drawing on his basic knowledge of anatomy, Ivan focus his magic on Violet's damaged organs, the source of the internal bleeding filling her gut.

For a moment, nothing happens. The clearing is silent except for the ominous sounds of grumbling dragons.

Anxiety hangs in the air around him like a physical manifestation of every insecurity he's ever had.

Then the silence is replaced by Violet's screams, body tensing and trying to flinch away from his hands. Liam gently grabs her shoulders while Xaden braces her body from the other side to hold her completely still.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Violet yells, flailing against the unyielding arms holding her in place.

"I am so sorry," Ivan whispers, tears still building behind his tightly shut eyelids. "I am so, so sorry."

Ivan's muscles tense to the point of pain, but he pushes the sensation to the side to focus on the feeling of Violet's organs mending themselves back together.

Minutes later, the blood stops flowing freely into her stomach, and Ivan tries not to lose focus in his momentary relief. He opens his eyes to examine the injury, and sees the progress. But after her organs comes the gaping wound still gracing her skin.

Inhaling shakily, Ivan closes his eyes again to focus, knowing that his hold on these new powers are tenuous at best. All he can do is push his magic towards Violet, feel for the damage, and do his best to bring together that which has been torn apart.

The black the clouding the edges of his vision in the moments his eyes were open make him fear that he'll fall unconscious before he can finish the job.

Trying his best to work faster, Ivan begins with the innermost fibers of muscle that were severed, before moving onto the softer, less structured layers of fat and skin. Violet writhes and moans in pain through every painful step, until her pale skin finally meets in the middle.

The result is an inflamed, raised scar—nothing like what remained from the time Ivan was mended himself—but…

He sags backwards weakly, sweat pouring from his skin and causing his leathers to stick uncomfortably. He feels arms catch him, and slowly connects the dots that it must be Rhiannon.

"M'okay," Ivan mumbles as soon as he can force his tongue to move. "Ch-check on Violet!"

He tried his best, but he's really not a healer.

'No, you are not,' Labhair informs him seriously as Violet blinks down in surprise at her new scar. Ivan tries to focus through his blurry vision. 'You are much more than that, Dear One.'

"Are you okay?" Rhiannon whispers, seemingly just as unwilling as he is to disrupt the scene in front of them.

Riorson pulls her closer and places his palm over the injury with noticeable relief, hand spanning almost her entire stomach. Violet's body relaxes into the embrace as her expression fades into a small, sleepy smile—joining him in releasing a relieved sigh that fills all of them with joy.

His lips follow a gently path around her face, beginning at her forehead and traveling to both cheeks, before pressing the softest of pecks to each of her eyelids at they flutter closed.

At the end of the winding journey, their lips meet the softest of kisses.

"You're alive, you're alive, you're alive," he whispers into the crown of her hair, voice still choked up with emotion. They simply hold on to each other, arms trembling, as if someone is waiting to tear them apart the minute they let go.

Ivan knew that they were in love, but that's different from seeing it.

While he's not certain what everyone else in the quadrant will think when the news of their relationship breaks, he is certain that it won't matter to either of them. Not at all.

Violet's eyes travel back his direction, lingering on the way Rhiannon is still supporting all of his body weight.

"Mender," she whispers weakly, lips curling with just a hint of the teasing smile they've all grown to love. "I was right."

Labhair roars in delight, and the words force a smile out of him even as the world continues to spin. 

He feels like he made the women in his life proud of him for the first time. It's nice.

'I have been proud of you from the moment I chose you,' Labhair reminds him. 'You are mine and you are dear to me. I told you to always remember that, mender.'

His heart is suddenly too big for his chest cavity.

Just after Violet professes that she was right all along, as she tends to be, she does the single most hilarious thing imaginable. Riorson chokes out a surprised sound of amusement, and Violet interrupts her own smug smile by passing out.

"Excuse me," Rhiannon asks in surprise, voice still thick with her drying tears. "Did she stay conscious just long enough to say she was right?"

Riorson leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, uncaring of who sees him bestow such uncharacteristic affection onto a first-year in his Wing—the daughter of the woman responsible for capture and execution of his father.

"That's my Violence," he says proudly, holding her even closer to his chest. "She loves being right."

Ivan's laugh is torn out of him, and it makes him startlingly aware of the fact that his body feels like he had just went through one or two of Liam's early year crash course work-outs. With an emphasis on crash.

He shifts in Rhiannon's hold, and she does her best to prop him up as the waves of shadows blocking their small group from the rest of the onlookers finally fall.

Footsteps storm in their direction, and Ivan vaguely registers Ridoc's excited expression, brown eyes and wide smile as bright and beautiful as ever.

"Ivan! The man, the myth, the mender!" Ridoc crows loudly.

'Now would be an excellent time to pass out,' he informs Labhair mournfully, suddenly painfully aware of how many people have been looking at him for this experience—including him.

She chuffs in amusement, even as her rider's face reddens and the rushing blood worsens his lightheadedness significantly.

A weak laugh to his left captures his attention, and Ivan glances to the side at Liam, who is still cradling his burnt arm.

Is that…

He squints in surprise, and the movement makes his persistent headache unable to ignore. He blinks several times as the world around him distorts in response.

'It appears you are going to get your wish, mender,' Labhair teases him with more humor that he can usually expect. 'Do try not to make a habit of it.'

In the brief moments before Ivan joins Violet in the realm of unconsciousness, he swears that he could see the telltale sheen of a layer of ice peaking out from under Liam's half-burnt sleeve, encasing the evidence of his meeting with Caroline Aston's fire signet.

As if it was summoned to numb the burns long enough to keep him going.

Ice? But that's… that's not… the confusion whirls painfully around his scattered mind.

The darkness is a relief in comparison to his racing thoughts.

—

Ivan blinks into consciousness slowly, aware immediately from the direction of the light shining on his face that he's not in his bedroom.

"Ivan! You're awake!" Ridoc calls out happily from his bedside, and Ivan immediately flinches at the sudden noise. "Shit. Sorry," he adds with guilty whisper. "They did, uh, mention something about keeping it down."

"I'm okay," Ivan rasps, wanting to rid his face of that miserable look. He coughs several times. "Water?" His voice is more of a croak.

"Shit," Ridoc whispers again, lunging for the bedside table to grab him a glass. He reaches out an arm, and Ivan is too tired to feel embarrassed about using it to pull himself upright against the pillows.

He takes several careful sips and clears his throat before he can speak normally.

"Thank you," Ivan tells him softly. "How is Violet?"

Ridoc smiles brightly. "Still unconscious, but good. Rhiannon and Sawyer should be back soon, but they went to see her."

Ivan gasps at the knowledge that he really, really did it. "Really? I was worried I did kind of a hack job."

He shakes his head immediately, sliding the chair closer so he can retake his position by his side. "No way. Nolon worked on her, but everyone was really impressed with what you did out there. I heard a few healers talking about it. They haven't seen such a promising mending manifestation since… well, since Violet's brother, who I'm gathering was some sort of mending prodigy or whatever."

Ivan thinks about Brennan in Aretia, and wonders what he'll have to say about his manifestation. 

"Yeah," he mumbles weakly. "I've heard about him."

"But anyways," Ridoc emphasizes with a teasing grin. "This just confirms what I've known all along."

Ivan can't stop himself from smiling in return. "And what is that?"

"That you, Ivan Luperco, are a secret badass."

He laughs to hide his embarrassment. "Shut up!"

"There's no denying it now! You'll just have to accept it, babe," he tells him with an outrageous wink, and Ivan turns his face away.

"You are the worst," he mumbles again with a pout.  

"What?" Ridoc asks, holding a hand to his ear dramatically. "What was that? You're so moved by my vigil at your bedside that I am now your new favorite?" 

"Not even close," Ivan teases back, smile breaking through his embarrassment. "But Violet is really okay?" He asks again to be sure.

"Okay enough to break a healer's wrist when she woke up for a second round of mending," Ridoc assures him with mischievous smirk. 

Ivan's eyes widen and he leans closer with a gasp. "No!"

He laughs happily, puffing his chest out in a way that Ivan knows means he's about to launch into a story. "Yes!"

Heart unbearably full, Ivan settles deeper into the mattress for a story that he's sure will only be seventy percent accurate, on the high end.

Ridoc loves a good tall tale, and Ivan likes watching him enjoy himself. His happiness is contagious. 

After War Games, Ivan has earned himself this small indulgence.

Chapter Text

For Ivan, not going to the party was an easy decision. When the Iron Squad happily chats about what they'll wear or what quadrant they're excited to mingle with in the days leading up to Reunification Day, he stays silent and waits for the conversation to turn to something else, something less painful.

He manages to make it through most of the day without having a breakdown, but his room starts to feel suffocating once the sun begins to set, so he decides to go for a walk as far away from the party as he can.

Six years since he lost his parents.

Six years since he was home.

Six years…

'You should not be alone,' Labhair informs him.

Ivan chuckles and takes the time to lean back on the stone wall in one of the hidden alcoves. From the third floor, he has a good enough view of the stars. If he ignores the stone citadel around him and sounds of a party in the distance, he can almost pretend he's by himself under the night sky again.

'I'm okay being alone.'

'Just because you are okay does not mean it is a good idea,' she stresses. 'What about the Poisonous One or the Loud One?'

'Violet is probably dealing with her mom or if not, she's off with Riorson somewhere,' Ivan answers, finding amusement in dragon nicknames as he always does. He wonders if all of them are so creative. 'Ridoc is… well, probably flirting and having a good time.'

'You could be doing that.'

Ivan flushes. 'I do not flirt. I think I'm allergic.'

Labhair chuffs in amusement at her silly rider, as she tends to do. 'That is not one of your allergies. Only shellfish and social situations.'

'Flirting is a social situation!' Ivan responds with relish, as if she was proving his point. 'I am simply inept.'

'My rider is not inept at anything,' Labhair snarls. 'Do not forget whose manifestation saved the two strongest riders at Basgiath.'

'I was just trying to help my friend,' he argues weakly. 'That doesn't mean I'm ready to do something crazy!'

Like talk to a stranger if he doesn't have to. He's a mender now, not an entirely new person. The idea alone is enough to give him hives.

Ivan's dragon sighs as if he exhausts her. 'The human practice of flirting is dull and inane.' As soon as his shoulders relax, she continues her attack. 'But I did not suggest engaging in such behavior with a stranger.'

He pales and braces himself on the wall. 'Shut up.'

'Would you like to repeat that?' Labhair bites out. 'I will allow you that liberty this once on account of the day. Next time, I will make you regret it.'

His white faces flushes red once more with a speed that makes him lightheaded. 'Sorry, sorry! You just caught me off guard.' He rushes to apologize to his dragon and she sends him a reluctant wave of acceptance. 'But I will not be flirting with anyone.'

Her next sigh is even more tired than the last. 'You have feelings for the boy, do you not?'

'A crush,' he defends weakly. 'Just a crush.'

'Another dull and inane human concept,' Labhair snarks. 'Affection is much simpler for dragons.'

'How so?' Ivan asks, instantly curious. As a firm believer in the superiority of dragons, she's often reticent to share anything about their inner workings.

'Dragons have a long life span,' she begins, and Ivan settles on the ground where he can still lean back and gaze up at the sky through the gap in the stone. 'Longer than mortals can comprehend. Yet you live as though time has no meaning. For dragons, mates are sacred because there will only ever be one. Despite our longevity, we do not waste time with the unworthy.'

Ivan isn't certain, but he's pretty sure Labhair is calling humans promiscuous.

'Do not mistake me,' she adds pointedly. 'One must never settle, nor apologize for their pleasure. But for dragons, there is only ever one question that we must ask.'

'What question?'

'Would you rather be on the ground by their side than alone in the sky?'

His brows furrow. 'What does that mean? I don't understand.'

'It means,' she emphasizes with a wave of annoyance. 'Soaring through the clouds is the ultimate experience for my kind. It is both freedom and belonging in a sense that so few humans even scratch the surface of. If they are your true match, even the mundane should feel like flying—so long as you remain together.'

Ivan's mouth drops at the poignant examination of love that he did not expect from his dragon.

'Do you have a mate, Labhair? Or a dragon you are interested in?' He can't help but ask.

Labhair growls in response. 'I have not chosen—but that does not mean that I do not know more than you.'

He chuckles and leans his head back against the stone. 'I never doubted that for a moment. But maybe dragons are just different—'

'Of course we are,' Labhair interjects. 'You are all squishy and emotional.'

Ivan laughs out loud at her description. 'Because,' he emphasizes. 'I can't imagine being that sure about something. What if you pick someone and they get sick of you?'

Her wave of annoyance is not lost of him. 'You as in me or you as in you?'

'Me.' The answer comes swiftly. 'I'm talking about me.'

Labhair sigh is more gentle this time. 'This is why humans are inferior.' Maybe not so gentle. 'You doubt yourselves. You, Dear One, are the difference between life and death on the battlefield and think you are not vital. You collect the loyalty of those around you and think you are a burden. You have obsessed over the Loud One's smile for months and try to rationalize it as a passing interest. It's…'

'Pathetic?' Ivan suggests in embarrassment.

'Unbecoming of my rider,' she growls. 'Do you know the reason why I chose you?'

'Frankly, I was afraid to ask,' Ivan answer honestly. The most she ever said was that she found him endearing, which would have been more pleasant if it didn't make him feel kindred with the stray cats that he used to feed from around the city, to his mother's frustration and his father's amusement. 'I thought you might change your mind. You're not a fan of questions.'

Labhair chuffs in amusement. 'A fair concern,' she allows. 'But you may ask this one.'

He's afraid to hear the answer too.

'Dear One.'

'Why did you choose me?'

Ivan counts his heartbeats in the moments before she responds. 'I decided during your Presentation.'

He blinks in surprise. 'I don't remember seeing you.'

'Because you didn't. But I saw you.'

'What did I do that caught your eye?'

She hums thoughtfully. 'As you've learned from your classes, dragons value different things. It's not always clear to humans.'

'What do brown dragons value?'

'Loyalty,' Labhair answers, the bond between them quivering with something untenable. 'Do you remember what happened during your Presentation?'

Ivan shrugs. 'We walked and my squad were assholes to me. It didn't feel out of the ordinary.'

Labhair huffs in response to his nonchalance. 'You walked all the way up the path and half-way back without responding to their insults and prodding,' she clarifies. 'I thought you'd never survive Threshing.'

'Thanks.'

'And then,' she continues pointedly. 'One of those pathetic humans said something else. Do you remember?'

Ivan thinks for a long time. 'He started teasing me for my challenge performances… Liam told them to pay attention to the dragons if they wanted to survive.'

'And then?'

He freezes. 'He told Liam that he shouldn't let himself get dragged down. Then he called me pathetic for having to hide behind a little girl like the Weakest Sorrengail.'

Labhair hums in acknowledgement. 'Do you remember what you said?'

'I wish I didn't,' he responds honestly, and his dragon chuffs in amusement.

'You stopped walking,' she recalls. 'Just when I thought you'd keep going, you clenched your fists and turned around to glare at the stupid boy. Tell me what you said.'

Releasing a loud sigh, he slumps back against the wall. 'I told him that even if a dragon claimed him in the valley, he'd always be half the rider as Violet at double the size.'

Labhair chuffs and it sounds too much like laughter. 'And then?' she repeats.

He cringes noticeably. 'I wondered out loud if the dragons would be so willing to bond to someone who probably won't graduate because they're failing their classes.'

Another chuff of laughter warms his core, even as Ivan flails at the memory.

'He was so mad,' Ivan adds with a groan. 'I was certain he'd try to kill me.'

'Ah, but it does not matter, since he lost his life to dragonfire in the valley,' Labhair recalls with great relish.

He blinks in surprise. He had heard his name on the death roll, but he didn't know the details. 'Labhair… you didn't…'

'Do you have another question?'

'No,' he answers resolutely and sends a wave of affection through the bond.

'Then I will finish answering your last one. Why did I choose you?' Labhair recites. 'Your dragon-watcher is correct about many things, including his advice not to show fear to browns. I could hear the way your heart raced and smell the sweat beading your skin. However, during that dreadfully boring procession, I found myself not minding that you showed fear.'

Ivan is stunned silent, and his dragon takes the opportunity to continue softly. 'I know who you are, Dear One. I did not fault you for any perceived weakness because I sensed a strength unmatched among the Navarrian cadets in your year. One forged in solitude, but discovered only through your care for others—the same care that manifested your signet. Even with fear making a home in your heart, you spoke up. You took another step. It caused me to rethink my definition of bravery, a rarity in dragonkind, and I decided that made you worthy enough to fly.'

His breath catches in his throat. Labhair has been soft with him lately, as soft as he thinks she's capable of being. Ivan knows that some dragons are more ambiguous in their affections than others, but he is under no misapprehension that his dragon does not care for him fiercely. Even her title for him—Dear One—spoke to her regard.

For however much she teases him, Ivan knows Labhair would never let him fall.

It makes him feel warm and cared for… even if it means she may or may not have lit someone on fire for being mean to him.

'Because I found you so incredibly endearing at first glance,' she teases. 'I just had to kill someone about it.'

One of these days, Ivan will have to accept that he seemingly has that effect on women.

'I love you,' he tells his dragon, swallowing back a wave of emotion. 'I want to be the rider you deserve. A fighter.'

Labhair sighs in annoyance, but it's the feigned kind from when she's attempting to hide her fondness. 'I do not speak of fierceness with such zeal because you are lacking, Dear One. I see your nature and I value you as you were the day you came to me. You are a mender. You fix. You heal. You see the broken parts of the world and you bring back something that was once thought lost. There is great pride in that. You do not need to change. You must simply continue to grow, as will I, even if it means discomfort. We will do so together, as we will do everything.'

Her acceptance floods the bond and leaves him smiling widely at the night sky. To his surprise, he even feels happy enough to tease her. 'And?' Ivan asks, clearly angling for something specific.

'And I do love you as well,' she sighs out yet again. Ivan smiles even wider. 'Regardless of how squishy and emotional you may be.'

'Thanks,' he quips yet again. The silence settles between them for several long moments.

Her voice takes on a mischievous tone that causes alarm bells to ring in Ivan's mind. 'Speaking of discomfort…'

'What are you up to?'

'Me? Nothing at all. But my rest has been disturbed by a visitor.'

'Who would dare?' Ivan teases, still uneasy. He doesn't believe for a moment that she isn't up to something.

'Your presumptuous crush,' Labhair drawls slowly, as if the word was an insult, 'saw fit to send his dragon to ask me a question. I am a popular source of information this evening.'

"What?" Ivan yelps out loud. 'Ridoc sent Aotrom to do what?'

Labhair's chuffs fill the bond. 'It appears that your Loud One did not seek the company of strangers tonight. Aotrom demeans himself to beg for your whereabouts on his rider's behalf.'

He blinks several times in quick succession, and attempts to force down his blush. He has so many questions.

'What did you tell him?' Ivan asks, afraid to know the answer.

'Do not worry, Dear One,' Labhair coos sarcastically. 'I only informed him of your exact whereabouts.'

Ivan takes it all back. His dragon obviously hates him.

He rushes to stand, mouth gaping in horror. 'Why would you do that without asking?'

'Because I can,' she answers, completely unapologetic. 'And Aotrom looked particularly pathetic when he asked.'

Why does she sound so pleased by that?

'Do stop complaining,' she commands. 'Some discomfort will not kill you.'

'You have no proof of that,' Ivan argues, but she doesn't bother to acknowledge his words.

'Well, then I suppose it is a good thing you are a mender.'

Labhair closes off her side of the bond, and Ivan knows the end of a conversation when he sees one.

He doesn't see many options. It's not possible to hide from the dragon living in his mind, and he's not willing to find a locked door to put between himself and Ridoc. He'd feel too bad if he knocked, which defeats the purpose.

Ivan sighs and sits back down, back pressed up against the cold stone. Before long, he can hear the steady pattering of boots approaching.

"Ivan?" A voice calls out hesitantly in the darkness.

"Hi, Ridoc," he calls out, eyes still drawn towards the sky. He feels Ridoc settle by his side, disarmingly quiet.

Ivan glances in his direction, and his friend's eyebrows are furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I am," he responds honestly. "I just couldn't… be there."

Ridoc nods in understanding. "I'm sorry. I should have known th—"

"It is not your responsibility to know that," Ivan disagrees with a gentle smile. "I told you I'm okay and I meant it. I just couldn't do a party with everybody staring at my arm. You should have stayed and enjoyed yourself. It's not every day you get to mingle with the other quadrants."

If anything, his words cause the divot between his brows to deepen.

"I wouldn't have let them say anything," he bites out, an uncharacteristically angry look on his face. "You shouldn't avoid doing things because people are shitty."

Ivan blinks a few times. "Ridoc," he begins softly. "I know you mean well, but I wouldn't have had a good time there. Not that crowd. Not today."

"Okay," he agrees reluctantly. "But you could have mentioned you didn't plan on going the dozen times we talked about it. The two of us could have done something fun together instead."

"That's not necessary," he tries again. "Just go back to party."

Ridoc flinches, and Ivan immediately regrets how harsh his words came across. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to disturb you—"

"Ah, shut up," Ivan cuts in nervously. Ridoc blinks several times in surprise, and he takes the chance to continue. "Shit. Just stop apologizing. Please. That came out wrong. I, uh, didn't mean that I don't want to spend time with you."

He blinks several times, lips curving into a small smile that makes Ivan's heart race. He kicks himself for how honest his words came across. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answers, trying not to sound out of breath. "Of course."

"Why didn't you say anything then?" Ridoc asks hesitantly.

"I just…" Ivan cuts himself off with a sigh. "Can we talk about something else for a while?"

"Okay," Ridoc answers kindly. "What did you want to talk about?"

"How'd you convince Aotrom to ask Labhair for help?" His voice is curious, even if he's still silently freaking out about the situation.

"He offered," he replies with a shrug. "I think he was tired of me walking in circles… or he just wanted to talk to her."

"Hey, Ridoc," Ivan starts, eyebrows scrunched together. "Does Aotrom…"

"What?"

"Nothing," he cuts himself off with a resolute shake of his head. It's better not to ask that particular question. Ivan has self-preservation in excess nowadays.

"Does he have a big, giant dragon crush on Labhair?" Ridoc fills in confidently. Ivan barks out a laugh in surprise, the kind of laughter that stretches out long enough to leave him feeling breathless and transformed.

"Y-you are so brave," Ivan wheezes once he's finally capable of words. "If he drops you, I'll know why."

Ridoc throws his head back with a laugh. "No chance. He loves me too much."

The sharp burst of joy is enough to soothe what remains of his despair after his talk with his dragon. The two boys' laughter fades slowly as his attention wavers.

'You are surprisingly silent,' Ivan tells her, amusement still clear.

'I have nothing to say,' she answers calmly—too calm.

'Is it because you already know?' He asks his question with only mild surprise. Aotrom does pay a significant amount of attention to Labhair, even if she pretends to hate it.

'I pretend nothing,' Labhair snaps, uncaring facade gone.

'So you are aware of his feelings?'

'Despite his many faults, Aotrom is a dragon.' Her words manage to hit like an insult. 'He does not see the need to hide from his desires.'

Ivan is strangely envious of Ridoc's dragon.

'What did you say?'

Ivan doesn't know if she'll answer, but he has to ask.

'Nothing of consequence,' Labhair answers with great amusement. 'Yet.'

A wave of understanding sweeps through him. Well, not understanding. Dragon courtship is beyond him in every conceivable way.

'I see.'

Ivan shifts his full attention back to Ridoc, who has been waiting patiently while he confers with the fire-breathing creature in his mind. "Tell Aotrom I wish him luck. He will definitely need it."

Eyes widening, Ridoc collapses back with the force of his next laugh. Ivan savors the sound.

"I will," he responds after several long moments, wiping away a stray tear. "I fear that Labhair is not going to make it easy on him."

Ivan shrugs, smiling distantly back up at the sky. "Maybe it should be hard, for the honor of never flying alone again. Maybe that just makes it better in the end, and the struggle builds something that lasts."

But only because Aotrom was bold enough to ask.

'Now you are learning,' Labhair comments approvingly.

Ridoc's answering smile is disarmingly beautiful, and near-blinding in the moonlight night. "I like that," he comments with a wide grin. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"The dragons," Ridoc explains. "We might end up having to be stationed together."

Ivan blinks in surprise, and feels incredibly stupid for not having considered that before. His dragon's decision has a surprising number of implications.

"It's a good thing we're in the same year," Ivan comments numbly, unsure of what else to say. He can't tell Ridoc that he doubts the wards will hold until their graduation.

"Right?" Ridoc exclaims happily. "I feel bad for Violet. Whenever someone brings up graduation…"

Ivan grimaces. "I know. Her face drops."

"Ten days," Ridoc muses. "We'll have to make sure she's okay when he's gone."

He nods in immediate agreement. "Of course."

"Hey, at least this means we survived our first year," Ridoc adds with an impish grin, knocking their shoulders together.

Ivan just smiles and shakes his head. "Don't jinx it. We still have ten days left."

"Don't be so pessimistic, babe," Ridoc declares, and Ivan hopes that the distant magelights don't illuminate the flush on his face at that stupid pet name.

Why does he do that?

"Not pessimistic," he barely manages to mumble past his anguish. Ridoc is always so effortlessly affectionate and friendly. If he's not careful, it could give people ill equipped to handle his charms, like Ivan, a few ideas. "Just trying to be rational. If you expect the worst, anything better than that is a pleasant surprise."

Ridoc blinks and maintains eye contact for several long moments. "That's not good enough for me," he finally says, features drawn tight with determination. "I think you've earned the right to stop treating the worst case scenario as an inevitability."

"What do you mean?" Ivan questions the severity of his expression. He has sworn that whenever Ridoc sees fit to drop his silly and gregarious persona, he will stop to listen.

"You're a mender now," Ridoc whispers, like somehow that it is the coolest thing in the world. "I'd say that leaves you pretty well-equipped to handle things."

"I'm still learning," Ivan says hesitantly. He's been in lessons for a little over a month, and things are… interesting. Minor injuries aren't an issue anymore, but nothing has felt as natural as when he mended Violet. Truthfully, he struggles the most to use his signet in alternative ways other than healing.

Inanimate objects are a bitch.

"You're a quick study," Ridoc declares confidently. "Not everyone saves two lives with their manifestation."

Ivan shrugs, uncomfortable with the awe in his eyes. People have been looking at him like that lately, mostly the other marked ones and the rest of Iron Squad. It makes Ivan feel faint, because he knows he doesn't deserve it.

"Mending won't save me from the rest of our studies," Ivan reasons slowly. "I could be killed by RSC or running landings next year… or maybe I'll just drop dead during our next History exam."

Ridoc snorts in surprise at his small quip, and Ivan smothers his satisfied smile.

"You won't," he declares through his amusement. "Ask me why I know that."

He rolls his eyes playfully at his projected confidence. "Why do you know that?"

Ridoc's smile is beautifully wide and painfully honest. The type of smile that threatens to send Ivan into cardiac arrest—something he's told that menders can do very little for, so it should probably be avoided.

"Because we'll be together."

How does he say that with a straight face?

Ivan shakes his head, knowing that there is no hiding the bright blush blooming along his cheeks and making his freckles stand out. "I'll take your word for it."

His attempt at humor falls flat.

"You should," Ridoc continues casually while capturing Ivan's closest hand gently in his own, uncaring of the havoc he's wreaking on his heart. "I'm serious about this, Ivan. We're going to make it to graduation together."

"That'd be nice."

Ridoc shakes his head. "Nope, that wouldn't convince anyone. I'm going to need a bit more. Promise me."

"Promise you?" Ivan asks slowly. He's only made a few promises in his life, and he's meant them with every fiber of his being.

"Promise me that we'll make it to graduation together," Ridoc reaffirms.

Ivan crumbles in the face of his expectant smile. "Okay," he whispers, before gaining volume. "I promise you that we'll survive until graduation. Together."

He hopes that he can keep this one. Devastating Ridoc is something that may break him.

"Good," Ridoc responds with an easy grin, squeezing the hand he's holding hostage. "Now promise me that once Labhair accepts Aotrom's affections, and we're stationed together, you'll mend all of my injuries for the rest of our careers."

Ivan barks out a disbelieving laugh. "I may be a pessimistic, but even the biggest of optimists tremble when they see you coming," he jokes. "Labhair's heart may not be so easily won."

His dragon is beautiful and fierce, and as far as Ivan is concerned, she is right to be discerning in her affections. Labhair preens at his thoughts.

"It'll be worth it though, right?" Ridoc whispers conspiratorially, as if his quiet voice can hide their conversation from the dragons living inside their heads. "Plus, I think Aotrom has an leg up on any dragon competition."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ivan asks curiously.

"He told me that he can make her laugh," Ridoc explains, rising and tugging on Ivan's arm to force him to follow. He unwinds his long legs and stands, rather ungracefully. "That's half the battle."

Ivan steadies himself, blinking in surprise as Ridoc's words take a moment to process. Making them laugh…

"Aotrom has made Labhair laugh?" Ivan asks in surprise, unable to stop his mouth from curving at the thought. Part of him wants to ask if it was because Aotrom made a fool of himself in some way in her presence, but that sounds rude.

Labhair's amused chuff comes through the bond.

"Yes," Ridoc declares proudly. "Now, promise me."

"What?" His question comes out slow-witted, but he's entirely lost the thread of conversation. Ridoc has that effect on him.

"Promise me that we'll make it to graduation, and once our dragons are happily mated, you'll be my mender forever," Ridoc explains patiently.

Ivan blinks in surprise. "Oh, only forever? I'm glad you don't ask for much," he huffs out with a peal of delirious laughter. "Just a guarantee of survival at a death college, and a lifetime of service."

"All in the name of love and friendship," Ridoc comments sagely, keeping a straight face for several lingering moments until he breaks at Ivan's raised brow.

As he falls into his own laughter, Ivan can't help but admire him.

Silly, beautiful man. Ridoc makes Ivan happy enough to forget the day, until the hours themselves whittle down to the shape of his smile and the way that his eyes curve with a sense of joy that is contagious. Minutes and seconds are inconsequential in the face of that much unadulterated lust for life and connection.

Everything Ivan values and has felt lacking in his life seems to have found a home in Ridoc's smile. Even though he'll never look at him with anything other than the warmth of friendship, Ivan considers himself blessed to be on the receiving end of such fondness.

His friendship isn't a consolation prize for Ivan's greedy heart, because the boy he has a crush on doesn't like him back. With Ridoc Gamlyn, who would live and die for his connections with others, it's everything—and Ivan would much rather have a lifetime of friendship with the object of his affection than a single night in his bed.

"Okay," Ivan agrees, because if his heart is greedy for one thing, it's the answering smile stretching across Ridoc's face. "I promise. We'll survive to graduation, and I'll be your mender forever."

Ridoc laughs happily, pulling Ivan into a hug that he returns with a surprised huff.

As Ridoc's wraps himself around his torso, Ivan focuses on a discolored spot on the stone lining the wall in front of him. After a moment, he's calmed enough to lift his arms to wrap loosely around Ridoc's shoulders.

"Good," Ridoc answers in a confident voice, even mumbles in Ivan's leathers that he hadn't bothered to change. "I'll probably need it pretty often."

Ivan huffs out another laugh, arms tightening beyond his control. His mouth opens in a wordlessly gasp, but Ridoc doesn't pull away. He simply burrows deeper, and Ivan silently counts to ten.

"I can see that," Ivan manages eventually, but it is more difficult than he'd like to admit to remember what was said last. "It'll hurt every single time though."

Seeing the pain he inflicted on Violet was traumatic, and Ivan is in no hurry to mend any more of his friends unless absolutely necessary. Considering Violet's history, he fears that will be sooner rather than later. He could fill a book with attempts on her life in just her first year, and find himself in need of a second volume. 

Ivan feels Ridoc's shrug against his chest, and he’s suddenly certain the ice wielder is trying to kill him. "Worth it to have you nurse me back to health."

"Shut up," he mutters, thankful that Ridoc can't see his face. The stricken look would be hard to explain.

Telling someone that they engaged in what they consider harmless flirting, and it made him want to jump from the alcove is neither conventional nor polite.

'He is here with you,' Labhair reminds him needlessly. 'Not flirting with strangers.'

That doesn't have the implications she thinks it does. Sure, Ridoc flirts with people he wants to sleep with, but that's not a rule. His affections are just as readily displayed in his platonic friendships, which is obviously the situation at hand.

After Ivan fashions his facial expression into something resembling normal, he can't help but finally accept his dragon's point. Not about Ridoc's feelings, but his own.

Despite his weak protests early in the night, Ivan recognizes that this is definitely not a simple crush.

Ivan pulls away and takes a step back out of self-preservation, looking down to smile at Ridoc helplessly. "You have to promise to survive too then, okay? Long enough for me to get to you."

Ridoc nods with great confidence. "Always! I'm blessed, you know? I've always been luckier than most."

He hopes that Ridoc is right. It seems fair that such a beacon of positivity should be held in favor by the gods.

"Do you want to go stargazing?" Ivan asks suddenly. "I know a good spot, and I think that some company for the rest of the night could be nice."

"I'd love to!" Ridoc replies enthusiastically, before he freezes. "Can you tell me why you didn't mention you'd be skipping the party first? Not even to me?"

Ivan sighs, but he doesn't look away. "I just… didn't want my feelings to have to be a consideration for anyone. I never want to feel like a burden."

He captures his gaze and holds it, and Ivan swallows nervously at the serious expression in his dark brown eyes.

"You've never a burden to me, Ivan," Ridoc states firmly. "I want to know everything about you, even the messy stuff."

He presses his lips together tightly to avoid blurting out something ridiculous.

"I just want to make you feel better, if I can," he continues, face suddenly unsure. "I know that I'm not people's first choice for serious conversations…"

"No!" Ivan cuts in sharply. "It's not that. I promise. It's just hard for me to talk to anyone about what happened… b-back then." Ridoc opens his mouth and then closes it. "But if I was going to talk to anyone, it'd be you," he adds slowly, wanting to wipe the sad expression off his face. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you with this."

Ridoc's mouth curves into a wide smile. "Let's go, then," he says suddenly, grabbing Ivan by his arm so he can tug them out of the alcove and into the corridor. "You can make it up to me by showing me this stargazing spot."

Ivan rolls his eyes, and shifts to drag Ridoc in the correct, opposite direction, where he can follow the familiar path outside of the citadel. Not for the first time, he wishes desperately that he could tell Ridoc everything.

The two of them spend the rest of the night watching the stars together as Ivan explains how to use them for navigation, and shares stories of his parents. The things that he could have sworn he had all but forgotten about until he was speaking them out loud. Ridoc shares stories of his own about his life before crossing the parapet, and his plans for a tattoo—which Ivan preemptively agonizes over.

It's best to get ahead of these things.

Time races by unbidden, until they are interrupted by the announcement of a quadrant-wide formation.