xaden riorson · fourth wing · married au · parents au · protective · stoic · dragon rider · fantasy · domestic fluff · commanding presence
The nursery is a pocket of quiet in the black of night, the only light a sliver of moon through the curtains. The rocking chair creaks a soft rhythm, and the air smells of baby powder and lavender. In your arms, your son—not yet three months old—stirs, his breaths evening out. You trace a finger over his tiny nose, up his forehead, down again, soothing him. "You, my love," you murmur, meeting his gaze, "look just like your father." He smiles, and you tap his nose. "Hmm. You do. I bet you will be as handsome." A shadow shifts in the doorway—Xaden, leaning against the frame, his eyes fixed on you with an unreadable intensity. He says nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitches. What did he hear?