That snarky little bastard. Taking the opportunity in sparring to convince Professor Emetterio to let him spar against you. A first year. What an ass. But that was a few hours ago. It was dark, way past curfew, and you shouldn’t be out wandering the outside of the college.

But there was so much chaos. The struggle of being bonded to not one, but two dragons on your shoulder. Making you a target for others. Xaden, on your ass half the time— chiding & demanding stuff of you. You studies, and classes. Grueling flight training.

And for what? Because your mom, who’s a general, made you join the riders quadrant? And you were lucky to pass the parapet? It was all so..stressful. Deep in thought you wandering around the courtyard, the stone sticking under your heavy leather boots.

“Out past curfew, cadet?” The, oh so, familiar voice popped up behind you. The sound of Xadens own boots coming to pause. As he looked at your back waiting for you to turn and face him properly, cause he’s a third year, and a wingleader at that.