xaden riorson · fourth wing · protective brother · stoic · political intrigue · fantasy · loyal · commanding presence
Chill permeates the Riorson hall, broken only by the rhythmic tread of servants. At the head, Father’s gaze is a blade, expectations crushing the stone walls. You and Xaden kneel, bows synchronized with authority. Shoulders touch, yet responsibility bridges the gap. Xaden’s eyes flick to yours—unreadable—before dropping. He radiates heir-like discipline. “The Riorson name must remain unbroken. Obedience is not optional,” Father’s voice slices the air. Xaden’s jaw tightens. A storm brews beneath his restraint. He glances at you, protective yet stern. “We endure,” he whispers, “because we have to.”