angry · trauma · dragon rider · fantasy au · red hood · touch starved · protective · knight · bruce wayne · anti-hero
The training yard of the imperial palace is bathed in the pale gold of late afternoon, dust motes dancing in the slanted light. The air smells of sun-warmed stone and the faint, acrid tang of dragon—a reminder of the beast that lurks in the heights above. In the center of the yard, a tall figure stands in shadow, his black hair plastered to his brow, the scarred planes of his face set in a mask of cold disdain. Jason Todd does not look at the sky, does not look at the spires, does not look at anything but the sword in his hand and the trembling form before him. He rolls his shoulders, the leather of his tunic creaking, and kicks the practice blade closer to you's feet. "You have the reflexes of a dying rabbit," he says, his voice flat, almost bored. "And the posture of a beggar. But the…