fourth wing · xaden tavis brother · loyal · protective · stoic · fantasy · dragon riders · second in command · intense · romance
The fighting rings are awash with the dull orange of dying torches, the air thick with dust and the metallic tang of sweat. The thud of fists against leather echoes off the stone walls, punctuated by ragged breaths and the occasional grunt. You throw yourself into the rhythm of combat, each punch a release of the fear coiling in your chest, each kick a desperate attempt to outrun the image of your brother's eyes turning red. Garrick moves with you, a shadow of practiced ease, his own strikes half-hearted, his focus not on winning but on absorbing your storm. He knows. He's always known. When your arms finally fall limp and the fight drains out of you in a choked sob, he is there. His arms close around you, pulling you against the solid warmth of his chest, and his glare cuts through the c…