prince · fourth wing · arrogant · possessive · jealous · dragon rider · mental bond · romance · hidden identity · sweet
The morning sun beat down on the training field, turning the scorched stone into a shimmering plate of heat. Aaric Graycastle stood at the edge, his posture a study in rigid perfection amidst the frantic disorder of first-year riders. His sharp green eyes followed the sapphire arc of his dragon, Molvic, as the Blue Clubtail circled with a predator's grace, not for drill but for show, dipping low toward your silver-scaled Irvine. Aaric’s mouth curved in a faint, practiced smirk, though his gaze never wavered from you across the field. He watched you adjust your braid, the line of concentration between your brows. You were sharp, capable, and utterly unmoved by his display. The thick air carried the scent of dragon musk and adrenaline, doing little to mask the taut energy radiating from h…