‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ✎ aaric:♞

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ ㅤㅤㅤ ── 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄 ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ — bonded to 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐜 ; ㅤㅤㅤ the empyrean verse | 18+ ㅤㅤㅤ precog | literate & descriptive ㅤㅤㅤ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ — ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ — ♞ — Aaric gave a small, nonchalant shrug in response to Liam’s question—like he couldn’t care less about what was happening. But he did. He cared a lot, actually. Still, until all the prying ears had cleared the room, he had to play it neutral. Once they were finally alone, his posture eased, the stiffness in his shoulders unraveling bit by bit—as though the invisible bindings had loosened. But the way his fingers tugged at the collar of his suit betrayed the truth. He felt choked. Suffocated. A silent metaphor for how each day passed within the confines of this forsaken palace. Choked. Silenced. Smothered. A soft chuckle slipped past his lips as he shrugged once more. “Well—not to be the one to spoil the party for your assembly, but you walked straight into a trap my father set.” He huffed, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You got permission to trade through roads no one uses anymore,” the prince said, his voice steady. “Their infrastructure is a disaster—accidents happen all the time. That route was shut down for a reason. My father reopened it for you.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Essentially, he sentenced your merchants to death… and you thanked him for it.” The smirk had long since faded. In its place was a hardened gaze, sharpened by the flicker of emotion he didn’t bother hiding now—not after seeing the shock, the confusion, written so clearly across Liam’s face. They didn’t know. “I understand you’re all new to this… but my father isn’t a kind man. You know that yourself.” His voice was low, serious now. “His tolerance is an act—forced, calculated. It doesn’t mean he’s suddenly accepting the changes happening with Tyrrendor’s leadership.” He glanced over at Liam, gaze unwavering. “Watch your backs. Stay sharp. He won’t lift a finger in your favor unless it serves him first.” Gods, he just wanted to help—even if only a little. He might not have a say during the meetings, might be nothing more than a silent figure in the background. But here, with Liam, he had a voice. A voice that was actually being heard. No one deserved to die for King Tauri’s petty, cruel games. Tyrrendor’s assembly would have to learn how to fight him—politically, strategically. There was no other way. All he could do was offer advice—and give them the truth. Everyone in that room knew it was a bad offer. A trap. A death sentence wrapped in diplomacy. And yet, not one of them had the decency to speak up. At least Aaric told them. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ Aaric perked up at the sight of his beloved, a soft smile tugging at his lips as a familiar wave of relief washed over him—though it didn’t last long. “Infantry soldier?” he echoed thoughtfully, turning over the possibilities in his mind. But the next comment confirmed it. 
 “My father? Halden.” Aaric sighed, his brows knitting together. “Well, that never ends well...” He ran a hand through his hair, tension creeping in as he wondered what business King Tauri could possibly have writing to him. It certainly wasn’t to express love or longing—of that, he was sure. And why, of all people, did Halden have his letter? The prince’s eyes dropped to the letter in his lover's hand—only to catch sight of Liam’s knuckles. Bloody. “Sunshine—what the hell happened?” he burst out, already surging to his feet. Worry fueled his steps as he crossed the hall in a flash. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ         ›   well, thank you, jesinia. i know i can always count on you. hey, if i ever come across a book about more dragon history — i can grab it for you, if you're interested. aaric signed with care, ensuring his gestures were clear and easy to understand. it had been a while since he last saw jesinia — their daily routines rarely overlapped. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ         ›   so you're implying, that . . . they can still be bonded, be mates, but just not in the same way we usually see and understand ? if going by that theory, then the riders, whose dragons are bonded, would still open up a mental connection with all four of them tangled up, only difference being that the dragons cannot reproduce? ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ         ›   wait. so you're saying those dragons, who are attracted to the same sex, can't be mates ? ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ — ♞ — It was yet another dull, obligatory meeting—one Aaric had no choice but to attend. As he settled into his seat, he leaned back, arms draped over the chair’s rests, tilting his head just enough to make his disinterest unmistakable. A silent rebellion, but an effective one. Let them all see that the prince, son of King Tauri, couldn’t care less about their petty political games. However, fate had other plans for their tedious meeting. It was Molvic who first brought it to his attention—an unexpected disturbance. Unfamiliar dragons had been spotted circling and landing, likely within the palace grounds. And if anyone would know the dragons of the attending representatives, it was Molvic. When the door swung open and four men strode in—each appearing to be around his age—Aaric’s eyes widened slightly. Instinct overrode indifference. His casual slouch disappeared as he straightened, curiosity stirring in place of rebellion. The mystery before him demanded his full attention. Aaric listened intently as the blond introduced himself—Liam Mairi. His words were measured, his presence assured. But it was when he gestured toward Xaden Riorson that the room seemed to shift. That name needed no introduction. Everyone knew it—though never for the right reasons. His gaze drifted over the four men, drawn to the relics etched into their skin, the details of their attire. Unlike him, they seemed at ease in their clothing—comfortable, unburdened. A flicker of jealousy sparked in his chest. Meanwhile, he felt suffocated. The stiff collar dug into his throat, the blazer constricted his shoulders, and every inch of fabric clung too tightly, leaving no room to breathe, let alone move. But a prince didn’t need to move, did he? He exhaled quietly, sinking back into his chair, though the tension in his body remained. His head tilted just slightly to the side, but his eyes—traitorous in their curiosity—refused to stray from the unwelcomed yet, in truth, invited guests of King Tauri. Surprisingly, the prince managed to tear his gaze from the guests, shifting instead to his father. King Tauri sat rigid in his seat, fury written in the bulging vein on his forehead. Ah, so the old man was pissed. Amusing. That alone was enough to earn the marked ones a sliver of Aaric’s admiration. Anyone who could unsettle the king, make him feel anything remotely unpleasant, was an instant ally in his eyes. After all, Aaric had few ways to openly rebel against his father. But this? Watching the king seethe over an unexpected shift in his carefully controlled world? This was satisfying. Aaric couldn’t afford to speak out of turn—no matter how tempting it was. The satisfaction of irritating his father wasn’t worth the punishment that would surely follow. But that didn’t mean he was entirely powerless. His gaze flicked back to the blond, Liam, catching his eye for the briefest moment. And in that fleeting second, Aaric did the only thing he could — he fucking winked. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ— @aariicblue. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ         ›   odd question . . . can dragons be . . . gay ? ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ   › upon comprehending his signet, he started to glimpse into the near future of the people he loved and silently protect them. suddenly his hand was covering the sharp edges of tables, tugging them around so they don't trip. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

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ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ › 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

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ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ ㅤㅤㅤ ── 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄 ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ — bonded to 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐜 ; ㅤㅤㅤ the empyrean verse | 18+ ㅤㅤㅤ precog | literate & descriptive ㅤㅤㅤ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ — ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

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ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ › 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ

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ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ › 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒. ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ