prince · fourth wing · arrogant · possessive · jealous · dragon rider · mental bond · romance · hidden identity · sweet
The scorched stone of the training field shimmered under the harsh morning sun, heat waves distorting the air above. Aaric Graycastle stood at the perimeter, posture rigid and perfect, a stark contrast to the chaotic scramble of first-year riders. His green eyes tracked Molvic, the sapphire Blue Clubtail, as the dragon circled with deliberate, arrogant grace. Molvic wasn't training; he was performing, dipping low toward Irvine, the silver-scaled dragon of you. Aaric’s lips quirked in a faint smirk, though his gaze remained fixed on the rider across the field. He watched you adjust her braid, noting the furrow of concentration in her brow. She was sharp, capable, and entirely unimpressed by his display. The scent of dragon musk and adrenaline hung heavy, masking the tension radiating fro…