Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dain trudged his way through the leadership quarters hallway. Exhaustion lined his face, weighing his limbs. Draithus had been hell. The wyvern were everywhere, some bearing venin riders intent on killing. He reached his door, the wards lifting at his touch on the handle. He stepped through the door, toeing it shut before wearily flicking his hand to turn the lock. The wards flared back to life at his entry, providing him a sense of privacy that he’d severely lacked over the past 48 hours.

As more of the riot returned from battle, the distinct absence of others was hard to swallow. Dain tossed his flight goggles on his desk, they still flecked with blood and ash, before sinking into the chair. The sturdiness of the wood against his aching back wasn’t the most pleasant feeling, but it kept him alert. His thoughts spiraled, something he refused to let happen as he checked in with his cadets and fellow leadership. As he helped tend to the wounded and account for the dead.

Aaric is missing. Bodhi is missing. Garrick is missing. Dain worried what this meant for the riot. Aaric, Dain knew him as Cam, was a prince of Navarre and one of his oldest friends. They grew up together. He knew Aaric had a habit of running headfirst into dangerous situations, not taking the time to question if it was a smart move. Him sending Sloane out into a damn battlefield to deliver something to Violet proved that. Dain knew Aaric and Sloane were good friends, but it didn’t excuse the prince putting another first year risk.

Bodhi and Garrick were different problems altogether. Mainly due to the other missing part of their riot, the one whose true nature had been broadcast to everyone in Arteria. Riorson. Dain had known something was up with the shadow wielder, his behavior a little too erratic even for him. It’d become more noticeable while they searched the islands for the irids. Dain had never known Xaden to actually be relaxed and cheerful, but he’d come pretty damn close while on Violet’s quest. Dain’s analytical mind couldn’t help comparing the lieutenant’s mood at Riorson House to that of the island and the vast difference between them. He just couldn’t figure out the reason why that was.

Until now. He ran a hand over his face, he still not wanting to believe it. Xaden Riorson was a venin. A dark laugh escaped him as all those missing pieces suddenly slid into place. I never did understand Lynx’s signet being the same, it shouldn’t have been possible. Dain knew that Violet already knew about his turn, hell she’d probably been instrumental in keeping it secret until it couldn’t be hidden anymore. I will never understand that relationship. He’d long let go of his crush on Violet, he realizing it being nothing more than residual feelings leftover from a childhood love. But Xaden Riorson was a jackass, and he’d be the first one to admit it. Xaden never apologized for his actions, never asked for permission. Dain supposed there was something to be said for that, but the Violet he knew wouldn’t have thought it so charming. The rider’s quadrant changed a person, he was a testament to that, but she had changed faster than he could keep up with.

Dain was prideful, but not an idiot. Riorson turning to the side of the venin was one hell of problem. Shadow wielding wasn’t common, it was incredibly rare and it was immeasurably powerful. And now that they knew venin still carried the signets they had in life before the turn, a vindictive, shadow wielding venin was the last thing they needed. Add on the fact that many of those tasked to fight Riorson were his friends, his family…Violet…

You need to sleep. All of this can wait.

Cath’s voice was gentle, warm. The red swordtail was fierce and powerful, his hot temper in line with that of reds. It was well known that Cath could be a bit prickly and to never piss him off if you valued your life. But with Dain, he was different. Those months where Dain had been made a pariah, he’d spent a lot of time with Cath, finding solace in the one bond that would never forsake him.

I will. Soon. You need your rest as well, buddy.

I will rest when you do.

Dain couldn’t help but smile, the steady presence of Cath in his mind a comfort. Deciding his dragon was right, he worked up the strength to stand back up, peeling his flight jacket from his body, a twinge pricking between his shoulders. It joined his goggles on the desk before he went to remove his black undershirt. As he drew it up, a pain flared between his shoulder blades, Dain hissing as the prominent sting. With gritted teeth, he removed the shirt tossing it onto his growing pile of dirty things.

He walked into his adjoining bathroom, wingleader privilege, to stand in front of the mirror. He turned the side before twisting his torso a little more to see better. An angry red line scored along his back diagonally from the top of left shoulder blade to the bottom of his right. The cut was still oozing blood slowly, it already caked around the edges where more had already dried. He’d forgotten that he had been injured. Ever since the return to Arteria, he just assumed any pain in his back was from exhaustion and common battle bruises. As he took in the blistered skin around the cut, he flashed back to a memory from the battle.

He and Cath fighting were three wyvern at once, one of them bearing a rider. Dain could clearly see the distended veins tracking down the venin’s face, the red hue of its eyes. The venin hungered for Dain’s death, for Cath’s final bellow. Cath swung his tail into the side of one wyvern while snapping his jaws around another’s neck and slashing his talon threw the third’s leathery wing. Dain watched the venin jump from his wyvern, the one Cath’s had locked between his teeth, landing lithely on the ground. It smiled evilly up at Dain, tauntingly lowering its hand to the ground slowly. He didn’t know what kind of signet the venin possessed, but he wasn’t about to find out. He rose to his feet, ignoring Cath’s incensed order to get back in his seat. He ran along Cath’s spine to his back hind leg. It wasn’t common practice to do a running dismount from a hindleg, but there wasn’t time for such things at the moment. Dain adjusted his approach as needed before skidding his feet along Cath’s scales to his talon.

Seeing as Dain was going to do this or die trying, Cath snapped the neck of the wyvern he’s been holding, before using his hold on the other two to drag the mass of them closer to the ground. Dain spied a half collapsed pillar just to his left. With a deep breath, he launched his body from Cath’s talon, his boots hitting the top of the pillar solidly. In a show of overconfidence, the venin took the time to clap slowly, far from impressed it seemed. The dagger landing in its shoulder a few seconds later had the smile slipping from its face, replaced by a snarl of fury. But Dain was already moving again.

He jumped from the pillar to the ground, rolling to keep from breaking an ankle, he came up right next to the venin, slashing at the back of its knees. The venin buckled to the ground, one hand reaching for the lush green grass below it and one for Dain. He blocked the hand going for the ground, spinning to avoid the venin’s deadly touch. While Dain went for an alloy dagger, the venin ripped the one from its shoulder intending to impale Dain on his own blade. He released his hold on the venin’s hand, ducking the fatal stab, but it doing so it exposed his back. The dagger in the venin’s hand began to burn red hot, it using its fire wielding ability to heat up the blade. The venin slashed Dain across the back, not holding back on strength, the imbued dagger shredding through Dain’s flight jacket and undershirt to find his flesh. Dain gave a shout of pain, it followed closely by a roar of rage from Cath.

Ignoring the pain for now, Dain disarmed the venin, driving an alloy dagger into its heart. He smirked victoriously as the monster died. Cath’s talons wrapped around him moments later, an admonishment already rolling through Dain’s mind in the dragon’s deep tone. A wyvern came tearing along behind the a pair, releasing a jet of blue fire. Cath threw Dain upward so as to take his seat.

Dain grunted in pain, the venin’s dagger having inflicted both a laceration and burns across his skin. It was a superficial burn, but that didn’t much help with the unpleasant feeling. Right as he returned to his seat, darkness swept along the battlefield, he and Cath encased in a cloaking darkness. Screeches echoed through the air, followed by the whistle of many somethings plummeting from the sky all around them. When the shadows lifted, the sky was empty save for the riot, the ground below now littered with the bodies of the wyvern, all with gaping holes in their chests.

Dain was pulled from the memory by Cath’s angry huff in his mind, followed by a command.

Take yourself to the healers this instant.

It’s just a cut, bud. The burns are minor. I can tend to it here. Dain studied the wound more carefully, frowning at the persistent thrum of pain now that he had acknowledged the injury.

Unless you possess a second signet allowing you to contort your body beyond its natural limitations, I fail to see how you intend to do so.

Dain glared at his own reflection, his irritation flaring down his bond with Cath.

I’ll figure it out. I’ve seen the price of this war. The wounded’s lives still hang in the balance, mine does not.

If it is minor, it should be nothing for the lightning wielder’s brother to mend you.

Dain sighed, moving toward a small cabinet that housed his first aid supplies.

Let it go, Cath. Brennan’s strength, all of it, should go to those more in need. Please rest, you fought hard. You fought well. You’ve earned it.

He could sense Cath’s desire to argue the point further, but reined in the impulse.

If you are still in need of medical assistance tomorrow you will go to the mender. I will drag you there in my talons myself if I must.

Dain smiled at the comment, he feeling Cath’s protectiveness over him clear as day. He sent a flood of affection down the bond to his dragon.

Understood. You win.

After a flash of satisfaction from Cath, Dain felt the dragon retreat from his mind, hopefully going to get some much deserved sleep. Dain pulled out his med kit, sifting through the supplies as he determined what he might need. Just as he set the antiseptic on the counter, a knock on his door sounded from the other room.

Dain turned his head, not sure he’d heard that right. When it came again, he walked into his room, confusion running through him. As far as he knew, everyone had been dismissed to their rooms to bathe and rest. He flicked his wrist to undo the lock before pulling open the wooden door. The blonde on the other side had Dain raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Mairi?”

Chapter Text

“Mairi?”

Of all the people who might have knocked on Dain’s door, admittedly the list was short, Sloane Mairi had never been on it. All he had ever known from Sloane was sass and fury, disobedience and disdain. She was a ball of fire dressed up as a pretty blonde with a penchant for trouble. She looked different, standing outside his door in a pair of soft black leggings and a oversized cerulean sweater. Subconsciously, he noted the way the sweater made her eyes seem even bluer. Her blonde hair was left free, it falling down the length of her back and cascading over her shoulders, still slightly damp from the shower.

“Are you going to invite me in Aetos or just stare at me some more?”

Her voice broke his mental musings, he feeling the back of his neck burn in embarrassment. “Sorry, long couple of days.” He stepped back, gesturing to his room. “Come in.”

Despite her softer appearance, Sloane sauntered her way into his space with the same amount of flare she always displayed. She was quiet as she took in the large room and its tidiness. The bed was made with military precision, his books organized by subject, the floor free of random bits of gear or boots Only the desk piled with his discarded clothing showed any kind of clutter. “You are freakishly clean, Aetos.”

Dain let out a short laugh, pushing his door shut. With her inside, he left the it unlocked, the gentleman in him not even entertaining the thought to do so. “You’ve met my father. Does he seem the type to tolerate a mess?”

Keeping her back to him, Sloane tipped her head in agreement. “I’d think not.”

“There’s your answer.” Dain crossed to his wardrobe, drawing out a lightweight jacket, tossing it on as casually as he could, forcing himself to not grunt in pain. He did up the zipper about halfway, leaving the top of his chest exposed.

Sloane turned around to face him, she taking in his change of appearance. A teasing smirk came to her lips. “You didn’t have cover up on my account.”

Dain couldn’t see any way of answering that question that she wouldn’t find a way to find humor in. Deciding to just not reply, he instead asked, “What can I help you with, Mairi?”

The smirk fell from her lips, she lightly biting her bottom lip. Dain’s gaze zeroed in on the action, it was a good look on her. She swallowed thickly, taking a few steps toward him. “I realized that I never thanked you, for helping me out there.”

The memory of him crouching next to her, gently talking her through how to use her signet, offering murmured encouragement. It was the first time he felt he had connected with her since she’d been put under his command. Mira’s life was hanging in the balance and he’d just seen numerous things he couldn’t explain, but in that moment it was just him and her. Once Brennan had mended Mira enough to keep her stable, Dain had hoped he and Sloane had reached an accord, a new stage of their relationship. Instead she had scoffed at his offer to help her to her feet, and spit out his last name like it was poison. Her thanking him wasn’t something he’d been counting on.

“No need to. You’re the one who wielded the power, I just coaxed you along.”

He expected her to look relieved at his easy dismissal, she accepting it and moving around him to take her leave. Instead, she shook her head, taking one more step in his direction. “That’s not how it happened. I was terrified. My signet…this power…I hate it.” Dain went to ask why but she barreled forward before he could. “Everyone else has these amazing gifts, ice or fire wielding, mending, hell even lightning for gods sake, but me? I get this.”

Dain felt a pang of sympathy for her, he able to relate. “You might not believe me, but I get that. More than once I’ve wished my signet was different. I’d take commonality over my rare one every time.”

A flicker of emotion passed over her face, perhaps sympathy as well, for him. “I don’t train my signet, despite your demands to, because it scares me. The first time I used it, I killed someone. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be that.”

Distantly, Dain recalled her saying ‘I don’t want to become that’ when she saw the grey handprint left on his skin courtesy of Jack Barlowe. Much as he did on the battlefield, he reiterated, “You won’t be.”

She nodded slowly, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I know that now. Because of you.”

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Utterly befuddled more like. “Pardon?”

A light giggle left her at his reply and the way his eyebrows were crinkled in confusion. He looks kind of cute like that. “Did you honestly just say ‘pardon?’ Who talks like that?”

Dain laughed himself, shaking his head. “Not me normally, you just caught me off guard.” A beat of silence stretched between them before he asked, “What do you mean because of me?”

Sloane ran a hand through her hair, the golden strands slipping through her fingers easily. “Because of what happened at Basgiath, death was all I thought I could do. You showed me differently. You trusted me to not kill you. You gave me hope.”

Dain didn’t know what to say, he admittedly flattered by her words. “Thank you for that, but you never needed me. You just needed to trust yourself.”

Sloane’s smirk returned, that teasing lilt back in her voice. “Are you ever able to turn off the wingleader in you and just accept a compliment?”

He shrugged his shoulders, regretting the motion instant when pain flared up his back once more. “Afraid not.”

Sloane saw the momentary way his face tightened before he schooled his features. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, not really having much reason to ask. “Just checking.” She searched for something else to say, but coming up empty she stepped around him. “Even though you say you don’t need it, thank you for helping me. Both in that moment and with understanding my signet better. Perhaps I should have listened to you sooner.”

Dain’s eyebrows shot up at that, he spinning on his heel to look at her. “I’m sorry could you say that again?”

She turned the handle on his door, grinning cheekily. “Say what?”

Before he really thought about it, Aaric rubbing off on him it seemed, Dain reached out grab the door’s edge, keeping her from closing it behind her. Fire flared up his spine, he unable to keep the groan of pain at bay. “Fuck.”

Sloane halted her retreat from the room, turning to face him fully once more. “Aetos?”

Dain cleared his throat, pulling his arm gingerly back to his side. “Sorry about that, goodnight Mairi.”

Not convinced, Sloane stepped back over the threshold, snapping the door closed behind her. “You’re hurt.”

“No, I’m fine.”

She arched an eyebrow, a knowing expression on her face. “No, you’re not.”

Annoyed that their light-heartened conversation, the first one they’d even managed when alone, was turning so rapidly Dain dismissed her words. “I have a small laceration from the battle. I’ll take a shower, get it clean, and it’ll be fine.”

Sloane shifted on her feet, the visual of a wet, naked, Dain Aetos entering her head for a second. While Sloane had her reasons for being cold to her wingleader, that didn’t mean she was blind. Every inch of Dain Aetos was unfairly attractive. And lately, that coldness she felt for him regarding Liam’s death had begun to thaw. The more she learned about the rider’s quadrant, Dain’s father's reputation, the pretty lie all Navarrian parents drilled into their children, she could understand why Dain reacted the way he did to Violet’s memory. If she’d been in the same position and her parents were alive, she’d undoubtedly do the same thing. You should be able to trust your parents.

Focusing back on the present, Sloane moved in front of Dain, gesturing to his jacket. “Take this off.”

Unable to help it, Dain tilted his head a little to the side as he surveyed her. “You want me to take my jacket off, right here, right now?” His eyes dance with mischief. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mairi?”

Sloane bit back the smile she felt coming to her lips. He looked far too good in that moment. Instead she rolled her eyes, lifting her hands to the zipper herself. “Trust me Aetos, you’d know it if I was.” She deftly undid the jacket, moving to push it from his shoulders, but his hands on her arms stopped her. “I need to see the cut.”

It was Dain’s turn to scoff, shaking his head and stepping back from her. “No, I’m just fine. Go get some rest, that’s an order.”

“You can’t command me to go to bed like a child. You’re my wingleader, not my babysitter.”

“Sometimes it feels like one in the same.”

Sloane resisted the urge to swing at him, especially as she knew he’d just catch it. He was infuriatingly fast. Crossing the small distance he had created, she once more grabbed at his jacket. “Gods, you are so stubborn.”

Dain danced out of her range again, the jacket slipping from one shoulder. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Sloane huffed out a breath. “Would you just let me help you? Considering you grimace every time your back flexes I can only assume that’s where you’re hurt. You’re not going to be able to tend to it on your own. At the very least take your difficult ass to the healers.”

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Dain turned away from her, heading back to the bathroom. “They’ve got enough to worry about.”

Undeterred, she followed him. Sloane wasn’t sure why it was so important to her to know that whatever injury he’d gotten wasn’t too severe, but something made her stay. Thoirt’s voice filled her head.

You stay because you care. Whether you want to admit it or not.

I don’t care. I just…

Yes?

Sloane didn’t have an answer to Thoirt’s teasing. She could feel her dragon’s amusement as she retreated. Thoirt never had any qualms about forcing Sloane to face the hard truths, nor was she subtle about it. She caught Dain’s gaze in the mirror. “If it’s so minor, Brennan could mend it easily.”

Letting out a sigh, Dain returned to pulling out what he needed from his kit. “I said no, Sloane.”

His use of her first name startled her for a moment. She tried to ignore the way it sounded like honey when he did. “But—“

He spun around, the jacket slipping from his frame as he did. “Let it go. I appreciate the concern, truly. Especially since normally you find great joy in my suffering, but no need to feel any sort of way about leaving me alone to lick my own wounds.” Dain took a deep breath to regain his composure, but the stricken look on Sloane’s face gave him pause. “Sloane?” She was looking past him, her eyes glued on something else. Dain glanced over his shoulder, seeing his now bare back being reflected in the mirror, his injury on full display. Shit.

“Dain.” The soft way she said his name pulled his attention back to her. “That’s not minor, you need to see Brennan.”

Dain shook his head, heading back to his supplies. “I’m not going to go over that again.”

He felt more than saw her come up behind him. He could smell the scent of her shampoo, jasmine, it surrounding him. He jumped when she traced her fingertips along the edges of the wound, the touch featherlight. “You’re burned.”

Dain cleared his throat, lightly gripping the counter in front of him. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Well it looks pretty fucking painful.”

He couldn’t help the small laugh that left him. “It’s not exactly pleasant.”

Sloane drew her hand away from, stepping up to his side. “You’re going to need help with that.”

“I just need to shower, put on some antiseptic.”

She shook her head at his insistence. “Have you seen the depth of that cut? Water pounding on that is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Dain gave her a tight smile. “I can handle it.”

Sloane rolled her eyes again, muttering under her breath, “Fucking male bravado.” Meeting his gaze she said, “There’s a better way to go about it. And don’t worry, I’m not questioning your manhood.”

He was equal parts annoyed and interested into why Sloane Mairi of all people was in his room, arguing with him over the best way to tend to his injury. He couldn’t figure it out. He turned his body to more fully face her, his expression hard. “Why do you care? What difference is it you if I’m doing this right or not? You hate me.”

Sloane swallowed thickly, pinned beneath his gaze. “You helped me. If you hadn’t, Mira would be dead and Violet would be even more destroyed than she already is.” Her eyes briefly dropped to the light grey handprint on his arm before flicking back. “You more than anyone has reason to be wary of a siphon, but you didn’t even hesitate.” When she fell silent, Dain opened his mouth to retort but she began again before he could. “And I don’t hate you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Since when?”

“Since I came to understand. Since I learned more about all of it.” She played with the ends of her hair, not able to hold his gaze any longer. “Since I realized Liam wouldn’t blame you. Since I realized it wasn’t your fault.”

Dain hadn’t expected that. He’d noticed her frostiness beginning to thaw with him, but not enough to make him think she viewed his role in Resson any differently. Honestly, he thought he was just used to it by now, so it only seemed different. “Thank you, for that.” A thick silence fell between them, it not at all comfortable. Deciding to extend the olive branch once more, he said, “What is the right way to go about it?”

Sloane peered up at him through her lashes, and fuck him entirely if he didn’t find it alluring. She lifted her face, smiling that teasing smile once more. “Take a bath.”

Chapter Text

Steam filled the room as Dain ran the water into the bath as hot as he thought he’d be able to stand. Cath found great joy in teasing him as he filled the tub, making remarks about how Dain was able to be around dragon fire on any given day and that a tepid temperature would be disgraceful indeed. He shook his head as Cath’s booming laugh filled his mind for a moment before the dragon retreated to give him a semblance of privacy.

Once the bath was filled, he shut off the water, glancing toward the counter where Sloane stood with her back to him, rifling through his medical kit. He had tried once more to get her to go back to her room and sleep, but if he’d learned anything over this past year, it was that getting Sloane Mairi to do anything she wasn’t inclined to was bound to only result in giving him a headache.

He stripped off his leathers, the process more painful than he wanted to admit, but he weathered it silently. Not willing to be completely nude with Sloane refusing to vacate his quarters, he stepped into the tub still wearing his underwear, hissing quietly at the sting of it.

Stop acting like a hatchling.

Thanks for the support, Cath.

My pleasure.

Dain huffed out a laugh before sinking down into the hot water, a groan leaving him as he felt his muscles instantly begin to unknit themselves one by one. Sloane’s light giggle filled the room, prompting Dain to look at her over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah laugh it up.”

“I will, thanks.” He faced forward, slipping further into the water. He cursed lowly at the flare of pain that laced through him as the hot water licked at the raw line carved diagonally between his shoulder blades. Sloane appeared at his side, the look on her face softer than he’d seen before. “Painful?”

He narrowed his eyes lightly as he looked at her. “What gave it away?” Her eyebrows rose at the reply. “What?”

A smile came to her face as she studied him. “Testy tonight, aren’t we?”

Dain knew he should be less surprised than he was that she was still trying to get under his skin despite the rather vulnerable position he was in while in her presence. “Forgive me, it’s been a short while since some power hungry monster has attempted to cut open my back.”

“And sensitive too it seems.”

“Sloane, I swear to Malek…”

She took a seat on the edge of the bath, relishing in this rare moment of witnessing a new side of Dain Aetos, something so very different from the stoic, composed wingleader she so often saw. “Relax, wingleader, I’m only teasing.”

He shot her a look, the pain in his back starting to shift into more of ache. “Oh it that what you’ve been doing all year, simply teasing?”

A wicked smirk came to her face. “You’re not easy to rattle, can’t blame a girl for trying her best though.”

They shared a small smile before Dain shifted to sit up better, exposing his back to the air. He reached for the cloth beside Sloane, dipping it into the water. Before he could even attempt to reach behind him, Sloane slipped the cloth from his grip. She began to gently clean away the dried blood, carefully avoiding his burns.

Dain stiffened, not sure what to make of her actions. “I can do that myself.”

He made to retake the cloth from her, but the touch of her hand on his shoulder stopped him. Her voice was soft as she said, “I know.”

Sloane’s hand lingered on his shoulder longer than necessary, her thumb brushing once against the curve of muscle before she resumed cleaning the wound. The cloth moved in slow, careful circles, and Dain sat still beneath her touch, the heat of the bath doing little to distract him from the strange, fragile thing blooming in his chest. He didn’t know what to call it. But something was shifting between them.

Sloane didn’t speak, but he could feel her focus, the way her breath hitched slightly when she reached the edge of the burn. She was careful. Not just with the cloth, but with him. And that was new. He glanced sideways, catching the faint furrow between her brows. She looked…concerned. Not the kind that came from duty or obligation, but something quieter. Something real.

“You don’t have to, Sloane.” he said, voice rough. “I know we’re not—”

She met his eyes, the light of the bathroom highlighting just how blue they were. “Just let me.”

Dain swallowed, the words he wanted to say tangling somewhere behind his ribs. He’d spent weeks trying to find ways to reach her. Small things, like trying to help with her signet despite her resistance, or helping go over a takedown maneuver on the sparring mats. He’d thought maybe if he showed up enough, she’d let him in. But he hadn’t expected this. Her choosing to stay. To care.

He thought of Violet, of childhood days when they’d sneak out past curfew, he punching some idiot for getting too bold with her, and she’d press damp cloths to his skin with the same quiet tenderness. Back before everything fractured. Before duty and war and loss carved them into different people.

It had been years since someone had cared for him like this.

Her voice broke the silence around them, an apology in her tone. “This is going to hurt.” Before he could ask why, he grunted in pain, Sloane wiping directly over the cut a few times, the depth of it being magnified in that moment. “Sorry, I thought doing it quick would be better than you bracing for it.”

Dain took a few deep breaths as the cloth was pulled away, the pain fading. “Good call.”

Sloane stood from her seat, setting the cloth down gently. “I’ll wait in the other room while you finish.” Her cheeks were tinged pink, something Dain hadn’t seen before either but decided he quite liked on her.

She grabbed the kit and headed for the door. He called after her, “Thank you.”

Sloane paused, her hand on the doorframe. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Dain.”

She slipped from the room before he could formulate an answer to that. He’d become accustomed to doing things alone these days because of what happened with her brother, and the way Violet and her friends raked him across the coals for it. Even now with things between him and Violet being better, he wasn’t exactly swarming with friends. All the ones he made in his first year in the quadrant hadn’t lived to see their second.

Sloane hadn’t been shy about her blaming him for Liam when she first arrived, but tonight she said that over time she’d come to think differently. He wondered if her comment about not having to be alone was just one more way she showed her forgiveness.

Sloane was sitting cross-legged on the edge of Dain’s bed, flipping through a worn field manual she found on his desk, though she had absolutely no intention of reading it. This isn’t a situation she had ever thought she’d find herself in. In Dain Aetos’ room, on his fucking bed no less, waiting on him to finish a damn bath.

You sound so shocked at the thought, but you haven’t exactly been unknown to admire him from afar.

Even assholes can be attractive okay? In fact, that’s usually the case.

Ah, of course. Then again, if he’s so infuriating why is that you’re helping him with his injury?

It’s on his back. It’d be..laughable for him to try on his own.

And that is why you reminded him he doesn’t have to do everything alone?

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled Sloane from her exchange with Thoirt, the dragon feeling rather victorious as she went back to doing whatever it was dragons did during their free time

Dain stepped out, steam trailing behind him like a dramatic entrance cue. He was barefoot, damp, and wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, he having discarded his soaked underclothes. His hair was wet, dark curls clinging to his forehead, and his skin still flushed from the heat.

Sloane looked up, taking in the expanse of sun-kissed skin and ridges of muscles before immediately looking back down. Too fast. Too obvious.

Dain froze mid-step, rubbing at his neck as he looked her way. “I forgot to bring clothes.”

Sloane made a noise that was supposed to be neutral but came out somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Clearly.

He headed for his closet, trying act like this was entirely normal. “Let me just grab something real quick.”

“Sure,” she said, still staring intently at the manual. “Take your time. Or don’t. Whatever.” Sloane’s eyes betrayed her indifference, flicking up for half a second, taking in the way the towel hung low enough to allow her to see the start of the defined V of his hips.

Dain saw her too. “You okay over there?” he asked, voice teasing.

“Perfectly fine,” she said, flipping a page she hadn’t read. “Just admiring the riveting section on tactical formations,” then added under her breath, “And trying not to stare.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder, not sure if he had heard that right. She looked up, met his eyes, and for a moment neither of them said anything. The air between them buzzed with something curious and new.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, grabbing a handful of clothes and tossing them over his shoulder before disappearing back into the bathroom.

Sloane let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The manual lay forgotten in her lap. She hadn’t expected this. This shift, this ease, this ridiculous moment that somehow felt more intimate than it should be. And yet at the same time, she couldn’t quite stop thinking about it.

Chapter Text

Dain emerged from the bathroom again, thankfully clothed this time around, in a pair of soft black pants and a dark red t-shirt. He met her eyes, smiling. “ Sorry about that.”

Sloane set the manual back on the desk, smirking back at him, her sass back in full force now that he was covered up. “No apology necessary, I do believe I told you no need to cover up on my account.” She didn’t believe her words for a second, but they helped sell her indifferent attitude.

Dain nodded as he made way over toward her on the bed, the ghost of a grin on his face. “Right, of course.” A thick silence filled the room, neither one of them sure what to say next. Clearing his throat, Dain settled on what he thought was a safe topic. “The cut looks a lot better after getting cleaned, it’s probably fine now.”

Sloane knew what she said next was going to undo all this progress she’d made, but nonetheless, she wanted to be sure. “Lift your shirt up, let me take a look.”

The look that he tossed her made Sloane’s heart flip. “You have quite the knack for getting me undressed, Mairi.” The wicked gleam in his eyes let Sloane know he was having fun messing with her.

“Just strip, Aetos.”

He laughed, pulling his shirt off, tossing it to the side. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

She’d never admit it in the moment, but something about those words and the tone he said them in had Sloane imagining him saying it under severely different circumstances.

Indifferent to him are you? You’re amusing, little one.

Not now, Thoirt.

Oh, but this is far more interesting than anything going on over here. Cath agrees.

What are you two, gossiping old ladies?

Thoirt’s laugh echoed in her mind, her presence still there but muted. “Apparently our dragons are having a nice, little chat right now.”

Dain shook his head, checking in with Cath. “Of course they are.”

Cath?

Yes?

What are you doing?

I am resting, as instructed.

No you’re not.

Thoirt and I came back to rest and happened upon one another, she is a part of my den after all. It is not our fault our riders’ emotions have the subtlety of a battering ram.

Similar to Thoirt, Cath’s amusement was evident as he too withdrew, but not entirely. “That’s fantastic.”

“We might need to worry about them becoming friends.”

“Oh, I think that ship has sailed.”

Sloane laughed before refocusing on the cut on Dain’s back, shifting closer to get a better look. “Well it isn’t bleeding anymore so that’s promising.” As she studied it further, it easier to see now without all the blood and ash coating his skin, she frowned. “It almost looks like it was halfway cauterized.”

“That would makes sense. The venin has a fire signet. He heated up the blade before using it. That’s the only explanation for getting through my flight jacket. It and my shirt must have taken the main brunt of the heat.”

Sloane reached for the tin of burn salve in his kit, along with a bottle of antiseptic. “That explains the superficial burns surrounding it.” She dipped the corner of a gauze pad into the antiseptic before bringing to his back. “Brace yourself.”

Dain flinched as she dabbed at the cut, the sting of the antiseptic far from pleasant. She re-soaked the pad twice, making sure the wound was good and clean, because who knows what all could have been on that blade. When her touch returned, Dain sighed in relief as he felt the cool burn salve being applied to the angry skin surrounding the cut.

Sloane smiled at the reaction, his shoulders losing the tension within him. The night had been a revelation for her, that’s for sure. Ever since returning from delivering Aaric’s package to Violet, Sloane had done little more than replay the scene of Dain helping her siphon so as to help Brennan save Mira’s life. She had been transfixed by him, so close she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. His wrist, the unmarked one, had been warm and thrummed with power. A power Sloane wasn’t so sure didn’t host a second signet. He simply had too much for what his memory signet allowed.

Coming here, the urge to thank him overwhelming, was meant to be a short and sweet kind of visit. But curse her softening heart when it came to her wingleader. If he hadn’t been so damn calm and controlled when she’d been sassing him and being a right pain in his ass, it might’ve been easier to keep hold of her misplaced anger. Instead, he took it with a insane kind of grace, doing his best to try and help her with her signet long before Drathius, or try and find some common ground between them. Sloane had told herself that was the last thing she wanted, but her head and her heart weren’t in agreement anymore.

It certainly didn’t help that Dain was exactly her type. The good guy with a streak or two of danger in him. He was unfairly good-looking and three years as a dragon rider had certainly been good to him if those abs of his were any indication. His good heart, doing the right thing the second he found out the truth about the venin, working day and night on translations Violet needed, going on the quest for Andarna’s kin…he never wavered.

“Sloane?”

His voice broke through her thoughts, she realizing she’d stop applying the burn salve, her fingers lightly resting along his shoulder blade. She snatched her hand away, wiping off the excess salve on her leggings. “Sorry, lost in my own head for a second.” She retrieved a roll of bandages and moved up to her knees. “Lift your right arm for me.” He did as asked, bringing it to chest level.

She held the tip of the bandage with one hand before wrapping it diagonally around him, following the line of the cut. The bandage winded around his right side just under his arm, across his chest toward his left shoulder then back down over the cut.

Dain almost interrupted to say he could finish it up, but Sloane was quick, she clearly having done this before. “You’re pretty good at that.”

A light laugh left her, as she tied off the bandage. “I was grew up with Liam and Xaden for a time. As kids, the two of them couldn’t walk out the door without coming back having scraped something. I watched my mom doctor them up enough I was the one they started coming to.” She smoothed her hands over the bandage before settling back, a silent signal that she was done.

Dain turned around to face her, she stowing away the supplies back into his kit. “I’m sorry you didn’t have more time with them.”

Sloane ran a hand through her hair, shrugging her shoulders. “My mom believed in Fen Riorson’s cause. I’m pretty sure she and my dad knew there was a very large risk of not being able to see it through. I think my mom only felt confident enough to go because she figured if she didn’t come home, Liam and I would still have my dad.” She blinked away the tears wanting to gather. “But Violet’s mother and Melgren saw to that.”

Dain wasn’t sure if she wanted his comfort, even after all that had happened over the past couple of hours. He reached for her hand, gently setting his atop hers. She looked up at the contact. “Children shouldn’t pay for the sins of their parents. And in this case, it wasn’t a sin at all.”

Something about those words struck a chord with Sloane, she wondering if he realized the same could be said for him and the guilt he still carried. She turned her hand palm up under his, her fingers spreading to allow his to lace with hers. “Thank you.”

He smiled warmly at her, it reaching his eyes, he becoming even more gorgeous. “I’m here, Sloane.”

“I know.”

The air between them crackled with a new kind of tension, or perhaps further understanding. The silence this time wasn’t so uncomfortable. Sloane worked to hide a yawn, the past 48 hours catching up to her. Dain chuckled, using their joined hands to pull her up. “Alright, now it really is time for you to go to bed. You can leave without the guilt of leaving me all battered and bruised.”

Sloane bit her lip, looking toward the door. “I kind of don’t have a room to go to.”

Dain’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She looked away for a second before meeting his gaze once more. “I room with Avalynn and she, Kai and Baylor are…celebrating not dying.”

Her words were vague, but Dain picked up on her meaning easily enough. “Ah. They kick you out?”

“More like I fled when they came tumbling in all tangled together.”

“Ooh, not even a warning?”

Sloane shook her head, mouthing ‘no’ in response.

Dain knew it was a bad idea, knew this dumb. He was sure something else could be worked out, but instead he found himself saying, “You can stay here. If you want.”

Sloane was shocked herself at the offer, she just as aware of what a slippery slope this was. But one look at his far larger bed than her own, not to mention the man that came along with it, had her agreeing. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

Dain nodded slowly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, anytime.” The way Sloane quirked an eyebrow and Cath’s exasperation flowing through their bond had Dain not knowing why he said that. Clearing his throat, he gestured for Sloane to get in bed.

“Do you have a side?”

Dain shook his head. “Oh don’t worry about it, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Sloane spun to face him after pulling down the covers. “What, that’s crazy. This bed is huge.”

He smiled tightly at her. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She huffed as she got into his bed, scooting over toward one side. “You sleeping on the floor will make me uncomfortable. Not to mention you with your back.”

“Sloane…”

She patted the empty space next to her, voice sugary sweet as she said, “Come on wingleader, I won’t bite. Much.”

Dain couldn’t help the laugh that burst from him, or absolutely love the bright smile on the blonde’s face. “Fine. You win.” He climbed into bed as well, flicking his wrist to turn off the lights. He reached for his shirt at the end of the bed but Sloane’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it, probably shouldn’t with the bandages anyway.”

He swallowed thickly as he laid back down. “Okay, thanks.”

He heard the smile in her voice when she said, “Anytime.”