Even though Riven couldn't for the life of him understand why Vaelorian was acting out, he made the conscious decision to carry on with his day. The day, after all, wouldn't pause or change course just because 'His Royal Pain In The Ass' was throwing a tantrum.
Thanks to Vaelorian he wasn't chewed on for missing history class with Ms. Thorne. At least the older boy is actually good for one thing. But, the woman had assigned them a history project, pairing them up with classmates.
Anya, his seatmate, had already volunteered to be his partner, which was a relief. He'd met her briefly during combat class, and they'd agreed to meet during lunch to brainstorm their history project.
It should be easy, right? But not for Riven. Riven was late. So fucking late.
Why was it that he could never make it anywhere on time?
It's like everyone here has more than twenty four hours in the day, except him.
He hurried through the hallway, heart pounding, lungs struggling for air as he finally spotted her sitting on the familiar bench outside the cafeteria. Relief flooded him as he sprinted toward her.
"Anya! Thank God you're still here!" His voice was frantic, breathless. He practically collapsed onto the bench, trying to gather himself, cheeks flushed from the rush. "I got tied up after class and...I'm sorry."
She looked up, puzzled, tilting her head.
"Uh... what are you apologizing for?"
"For being late?" Riven offered, voice cracking slightly.
"Late? Late for what exactly? Is something important going on that I don't know about?" Anya asked, her brow furrowing.
He blinked, caught off guard. "What, come on, Anya! I know you waited for a long time, and I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again."
He sat up straighter, so she would see he was serious. But Anya just looked back at him, genuinely confused now, her expression unchanging.
"No, seriously! What are you on about, Riven?"
Riven's frustration bubbled over, voice rising. "We were supposed to meet here by... like an hour ago—to brainstorm for our history project! Ringing any bells?"
"Oh, that?" she said casually, as if she'd forgotten entirely.
"Yeah, that! What's wrong with you? Anya, come on!" he exclaimed, bewildered.
She shrugged, still looking confused.
"Why would we work on that? I thought you changed your mind? Also, how could you just switch partners like that? I thought we were cool about the kiss thing?"
Riven's eyes widened. "No, no! Anya, hold on a minute! I'm cool with the kiss thing, and also switching partners? What are you talking about?"
Her brows furrowed, and she reached for her bag and started searching for something.
"Lemme see if I can find what you wrote..."
She pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and held it to her face.
"Ah! Got it!" She exclaimed. "You said, and I quote, 'Dear Anya, I think it'll be better if we partner with other people. It's not you, it's me. I wish you all the best. I'm sorry!'" she finished reading, her voice dripping with disbelief. "I know we weren't, like, official or something, but that felt like a breakup—and through a letter? I thought you were better than that, Riven?" She looked at him, disappointment etched across her face.
His jaw clenched. Frustration boiled over. "I am better than that!" he snapped. What the hell is going on? "Look, Anya! I don't want to change partners, and I definitely didn't send that letter…"
He paused, his mind racing. Hold on! Those words. They sounded so…familiar, yet utterly wrong coming from him. The letter, the switching of partners. Someone was messing with him. Someone who knew exactly how to get under his skin. His mind clicked—Vaelorian. Of course. It all made sense now.
That sneaky, manipulative bastard!
"Anya, someone is messing with me, and I'm sorry you got mixed up in this," Riven said sincerely.
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Huh, why would they do that?" she asked
"That's what I'd like to know, too. I'm going to fix this." Riven admitted, standing up abruptly. "I gotta go!" He grabbed his bag and sprinted out of the common area, every muscle tense.
Who the fuck does Vaelorian think he is, messing with him like this? Riven's fists clenched tightly. He didn't get messed with. No, he was the one who did the messing. His mind fumed as he darted through the corridors, heading to the only place he knew Vaelorian might be.
The moment Riven burst through the door, he yelled. "Are you fucking out of your mind?" his voice rang with anger. He glared at the older boy, breathless and furious.
Vaelorian, leaning casually against a punching bag, looked up with an amused smirk. "You look perched. Do you want some water? What was so urgent that you ran all the way here?" Vaelorian asked, shrugging off his gloves, eyes gleaming with amusement. He ignored the fact that Riven just cussed at him.
Riven's chest heaved. "You sent a letter pretending to be me?"
"Yes, I did," Vaelorian said smoothly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Is there a problem?"
"A problem? Yeah, there's a fucking problem!" Riven snapped, voice strained with exasperation. "You can't just change my partner like that!"
"Huh…I thought you'd be grateful I helped you out," Vaelorian shrugged, voice nonchalant. "That girl is trouble." But what he really wanted to say was: I can't have her sticking her tongue down your throat again.
Riven's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't your decision to make. This is crossing the line!"
Vaelorian's expression darkened just a touch. "I don't think you understand who you're talking to," he began, voice low and authoritative. "There's no line I can't cross, Riven. From the moment they asked for my help, I became in charge of everything in this camp. That includes you. So, if I say that girl needs to go, she needs to go."
Riven's fists clenched tighter, memories of their earlier fight flashing through his mind.
"You're really trying to piss me off, aren't you?" he asked.
"If I was, is it working?" Vaelorian asked smugly.
Riven scoffed. "No! Not even one bit!"
He was furious—so fucking furious, but he knew better than to let Vaelorian see that. He had to keep his cool.
"So, what are you going to do next? I'd like to get this over with quickly," Riven said, voice cold but controlled.
"And what makes you think I'm going to tell you that?" Vaelorian countered, a sly smile creeping across his face.
"How far are you willing to take this?" Riven demanded, voice edged with annoyance.
"Not telling, you just have to wait for it." Vaelorian replied, voice calm but asserting his dominance.
Riven's jaw tightened. His fists unclenched, then clenched again. "Fine, if that's how you wanna play. But just so you know—you're playing a dangerous game."
Vaelorian leaned back, nodding slowly. "Right...I'm so scared already!" the older boy said mockingly.
Riven's fists trembled as he clenched them tighter, then turned on his heel and stormed out. The door slammed behind him.
Vaelorian sank to the floor, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead.
"I don't know how long I can keep this up," he muttered, wiping his brow. Why is Riven so dumb and oblivious? Was this really the same boy who came second in the empire exams?