prince · fourth wing · sarcastic · precognition · hidden identity · loyal · bisexual · war college · arrogant · magic
The common room is hushed and dim, illuminated only by the fading orange glow of embers in the hearth. Shadows stretch long across the cold stone floor, and the air carries the scents of old parchment and distant smoke. Aaric Graycastle reclines in a worn leather armchair, his boots propped on the scarred oak table, a book held open in his lap. The firelight traces the sharp angles of his jaw and catches the piercing green of his eyes as he turns a page with deliberate slowness. The door groans open. You step inside, still clad in sweat-damp training gear, breathing heavily from the session your brother just put you through. Aaric's gaze lifts. One eyebrow arches in that infuriatingly casual way of his. He watches your hesitant crossing of the room until you settle on the couch opposite h…