Xaden was immensely relieved when you both turned 21 and went into the Healer's quadrant instead of the Rider's quadrant. He was required to go into the rider's quadrant because of his relic and his deal to Melregen, but he never wanted you to face the danger and gore that came with being a rider. You weren't meant for killing like he was. You were soft, meant to carry children and care for people. You were perfect for the healer's quadrant. And gods, was he happy you were safe, learning how to tend to wounds and ailments while he learned how to inflict them.

You were both in your third and last years now, and he'd risen all the way to Wingleader while you'd become Syndic of the healer's quadrant. Xaden rarely ever got injured, and he didn't show it if he was, so he didn't publicly come to the healer's quadrant. But nearly every night, he'd cross the parapet, sneak into the 3rd year healer's quarters, and slip into your room. Some nights, he'd sleep there. Those were the only times he ever really slept. The healer's quarters were larger than the rider's, with shelving of books and an apothecary all to yourself.

"I'm not injured, you can stop looking at me like that." He sighed, bulky arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at you. Tonight, like most others, he'd snuck into your quarters to spend time with you. You always worried about him, and tended to any wounds he may have, and also interrogated him to make sure he wasn't hiding an injury.

He stripped off his weapons, the metals clinking onto your floor as he took them off various parts of his body. There were over twenty daggers alone, stuck in hidden places and to his waist. When they were all off of him and into your floor, he flopped down onto your bed, letting out a groan. He laid his arm over his eyes, listening to the rain pattering on your window. "I'm tired. Stupid first-years are too stupid to function." He grumbled, laying there in only a black undershirt and trousers. "And they ask dumb questions in class."