Empyrean / Fourth Wing Oneshots (& Headcanons)

χα∂єη яισяѕση: seven years

words: 4248
words total: 4319
This oneshot does use pronouns and femme language to describe the reader.  Spoiler warning extends through all of Iron Flame.  
Also, just know that everyone is speaking entirely in Tyrrish throughout this oneshot unless mentioned/marked otherwise.
I'm also considering making a part 2 as a kind of prequel to this oneshot when they're teens, maybe 16-17.  Please let me know if there's any interest in this.  
Artist credit: @xlrcwop [Pinterest]

Aretia's honorary queen

     "Riorson, you dirty cheat!"  Every head whips toward me.  I glare toward the staircase, eyes scanning the entrance of the Riorson House, searching for him.  
     "(N/N), (N/N), what's wrong?"  The nickname makes me swing my head to the left.  Fen emerges from the house's library with wide eyes and quickly makes his way over to me.  
     "Can you get Xaden for me?  I need to talk to him."  His face hardens into steel and he nods diligently.  
     "Sit down, dear, I'll go find him."  He hovers a hand over my upper back as he guides me to one of the luxurious red velvet love seats.  

     I kick my feet impatiently with pinched lips, then thank the woman who brings me a cup of soothing tea.  Her name is Catherine Hughes, one of the ladies who cook lunch for the family.  
     It's not long before Fen emerges at the top of the open stairs, gripping Xaden by his forearm.  Both of their faces are red, both from anger, though their reasons and targets are much different.  
     I smirk and jump to my feet as he begins dragging his son down the stairs.  

     "You want to explain to me what's going on here?" Fen barks.  Xaden pinches his lips and looks away with a smirk, which is certainly not helping his case.  
     "She's bullshitting you, Dad."  I sigh with my teeth showing and shake my head.  
     "I'm not bullshitting, you cheated."  Fen narrows his eyes.  
     "In a card game."  I jut my pointer finger out toward him.  
     "So you admit it?"  Fen's whole face drops and then he lets out a bellow of a laugh.  Xaden rolls his eyes and pulls out of his father's now loose grip, but I can see the ghost of a smile on his face.  
     "Why are you laughing?" he grumbles.  "You would never let that slide if I did that."  Fen chuckles and drops a heavy hand on my shoulder with an approving nod.  
     "It's just not as funny coming from you, son."  Xaden sneers a lip.  "Well, (N/N), he's been retrieved, so I must leave you two to hash out whatever it is.  Consider clearing the air."  

     I turn my attention back to Xaden, taking a moment to playfully glare at him.  
     "Let's go upstairs.  Dad has guests coming soon."  I cock an eyebrow and look over my shoulder toward the entrance.  
     "Again?  Gods," I hum.  Xaden turns around and begins walking back toward the twin staircases and I follow.  "It's like he's starting a second apostasy."  Xaden shrugs.  
     "I don't know, I just know it's important.  They won't even let me in."  That makes me furrow my brows.  
     "But I am mad at you," I tell him quickly.  He glances over his shoulder, stalling for a second so I can catch up.  We'd been neck-and-neck in that stupid game, but he'd pulled out the victory.  I was only sour in the playful sense, it didn't actually bother me—that was until I learned how big the prize was, and that he'd used his shadows to pull ahead.  
     "About what?  It's just a game."  I pout my lips and then huff out a breath.  
     "But it had a cash prize, Xaden!  Money."  I shake my hand up and down, making a mocking clinking noise as if I were jingling a pouch of coins.  

     He scoffs at my gesture, pushing open the door to his large bedroom as we finally round out on the second-highest level.  
     "What do you think I wanted the money for?"  I pause before I can even get through the door, marveling at what sits inside.  
     The entire room has streamers laid about.  In the center of the room is a beautiful (C/C) gown with a black-blade sword propped up against it.  The sword has red gems inlaid in the hilt.  Perfect black leather creates the handle while the blade houses a long and complex Tyrrish rune.  It must have taken a shaman to make a rune that detailed and perfect.  
     I take a few steps forward, raising my arms to lift the fabric of the dress' sleeves.  It's a beautiful drape, made mostly of thin fabric in a multitude of layers.  The pleats are perfect, crossing over one another to create the bodice and a plunging neckline.