The Shadow and the Shield: Why Xaden Riorsen Is Just a Shittier Version of Four

The Shadow and the Shield: Why Xaden Riorsen Is Just a Shittier Version of Four

A comparative character thesis on deception, control, and the illusion of love

Xaden Riorsen and Tobias “Four” Eaton come from the same archetypal mold; brooding, battle-hardened love interests forged by trauma and rebellion. But where Four evolves into a partner who respects agency and earns trust, Xaden clings to control, secrets, and emotional leverage. He doesn’t deepen the trope, he dilutes it. Xaden isn’t a darker, more complex Four. He’s a knockoff in shadow, stripped of integrity and depth

There are spoilers. Do not proceed if you haven’t read ALL of the Divergent series and up to the end of Onyx Storm in Empyrean 

Trauma as Origin: Two Boys Born of Violence

Every good antihero starts with a wound.

And both Tobias “Four” Eaton and Xaden Riorsen have theirs etched deep.

Four’s origin is clean-cut, brutal, and personal.

He’s the son of Marcus Eaton, an Abnegation leader who preaches selflessness by day and beats his son by night. Four doesn’t just survive the abuse—he walks away from it. Leaves his faction. Changes his name. Reinvents himself through Dauntless initiation not to gain power, but to take back his autonomy. And when he finds out his mother isn’t dead (but hiding underground, scheming her own revolution) he doesn’t immediately throw in with her either. He questions everyone. Tests motives. But above all? He protects his own moral compass.

“I left Abnegation because I couldn’t stay with my father. Not because I wanted power.”

(Divergent)

Xaden’s backstory is equally traumatic but more politically complex.

His father led the rebellion that nearly shattered Navarre, and Xaden’s punishment is being forced into the very war college that trains the children of the men who killed him. The resentment is baked in. So is the rebellion. But Xaden doesn’t just survive, he adapts. He infiltrates. He hides in plain sight.

And he builds a second rebellion under the guise of loyalty.

It’s smart. It’s strategic.

But it’s also built on lies, and it requires keeping even his bonded partner in the dark.

“You don’t understand what it’s like, being forced to play the game when you know the board is rigged.”

(Fourth Wing)

That may be true.

But it’s also a convenient excuse for never trusting anyone, especially Violet.

Same trauma. Different results.

• Four uses his pain to fuel clarity.
  He doesn’t pretend to be fine. He doesn’t hide behind his trauma. He says, this is where I come from, and here’s why I’ll never become it.
• Xaden uses his pain to justify control.
  He wraps rebellion around his wounds like armor and treats secrecy as intimacy.
  He builds a cause on top of his trauma, then uses that cause to excuse betraying the people closest to him.

“If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t have stayed.”

(Iron Flame)

(That’s not sacrifice. That’s manipulation.)

Here’s the core difference:

Four breaks the cycle. Xaden becomes it.

One chooses healing.

The other chooses control and calls it survival.

Love Interests: Partner vs. Possession

They both fall for the underestimated girl.

They both stand beside her through fire, death, betrayal.

They both say they’ll do anything to protect her.

But only one of them actually means with her.

The other one means for her.

Tobias Eaton doesn’t need to dominate Tris.

He challenges her. Respects her. Loves her without shrinking her.

Even when he doesn’t understand her choices, he doesn’t try to stop her from making them.

When Tris decides to enter the fear simulations early—risky, dangerous, and fully her call—Four doesn’t interfere. He trains her, guides her, and warns her of the cost. But ultimately? He lets her choose. Even when it scares him.

“You’re not like the others. You don’t let anyone else tell you what to be. Not even me.”

(Insurgent)

He sees her agency as strength, not a threat.

He also opens himself to her completely.

He tells her about Marcus. About his fears. His name. His pain.

He doesn’t hold vulnerability hostage in exchange for loyalty.

“My name is Four because I only have four fears. But one of them is becoming like him.”

(Divergent)

That moment is trust.

That moment is partnership.

Xaden Riorsen doesn’t share power—he hoards it.

From the moment Violet enters Basgiath, Xaden watches her like a threat.

He hides what he knows. What he plans. What he fears.

He withholds the rebellion. The Venin. The danger of the outpost mission.

And when she finds out?

“I couldn’t risk losing you.”

(Iron Flame)

Not: “I’m sorry.”

Not: “I should have told you.”

Just: “I didn’t trust you to love me if you knew.”

That’s not a partner. That’s a puppeteer with good abs.

Let’s talk about the Liam situation.

Xaden knew that mission was a death trap.

He knew Violet would be targeted.

And he sent Liam with her—not with full intel, not as a soldier, but as a human shield.

He made that choice alone.

And then he told Violet it was all to “protect” her.

“I did what I had to.”

(Iron Flame)

If that line sounds familiar, it’s because abusers say it all the time.

Tris and Four argue, too—but the power is equal.

They make different calls.

They clash over loyalty, over risk, over right and wrong.

But when Tris hides her plan to go into Erudite alone? Four doesn’t excuse it. He’s hurt—but he listens.

He doesn’t gaslight her for doing what she thought was right.

He doesn’t punish her for disobedience.

He doesn’t withdraw affection until she begs for it back.

Xaden does.

One builds trust. The other demands it.

Four says: “I love you, so I will trust you.”

Xaden says: “If you love me, you’ll trust me—even when I lie.”

Big difference.

Power Dynamics: Trust Is Earned, Not Enforced

You can’t have love without consent.

And you can’t have consent without equality.

That doesn’t just apply to physical relationships—it applies to emotional and psychological ones too.

Which is why the power imbalance between Xaden and Violet is not romantic. It’s coercive.

Let’s start with Four.

Tobias Eaton has physical power, emotional scars, and combat authority. But in his relationship with Tris, he never weaponizes any of it.

Even when he’s scared.

Even when she’s reckless.

Even when he disagrees with her choices.

He never says, “You owe me trust.”

He earns it, slowly, by being honest, steady, and safe.

“I don’t want to control you. I want you to decide.”

(Insurgent)

He gives Tris space. Respects her anger. Doesn’t override her autonomy—even when he thinks she’s wrong.

Four understands something Xaden does not:

Loving someone doesn’t entitle you to obedience.

Now let’s look at Xaden.

From the first time he meets Violet, he has:

• Higher rank
• More battle experience
• The loyalty of a rebellion
• Dragons that literally eclipse hers in power
• The ability to kill her legally and walk away clean

And what does he do with that advantage?

He watches her. Warns her. Threatens her.

Then slowly brings her in—not as an equal, but as a risk to manage.

“You’re not ready to know the truth.”

(Fourth Wing)

That’s not partnership. That’s parenting with better cheekbones.

He doesn’t dismantle the power imbalance—he enforces it.

• When she questions him? He stonewalls.
• When she’s scared? He tells her to trust him.
• When she’s furious? He accuses her of betrayal.

The implied message:

“If you push me, I’ll shut you out. If you stay quiet, I’ll protect you.”

That’s not a relationship.

That’s a behavioral conditioning loop.

And when the scales tip? He punishes her.

In Iron Flame, when Violet demands the truth, Xaden doesn’t step down from the pedestal.

He disappears emotionally. He controls what she sees, hears, and knows.

And when she calls him out?

“You’d hate me if I told you everything.”

That line says it all.

He’s not afraid of hurting her.

He’s afraid of losing control over how she sees him.

That’s not vulnerability.

It’s manipulation wrapped in wounded-boy branding.

Power isn’t the problem. Entitlement is.

Four has power, but he never acts entitled to Tris’s mind, body, or loyalty.

Xaden has power, and he assumes Violet’s loyalty is the price of his protection.

And the moment she questions that deal?

He shuts the gates and raises the walls.

Mistakes and Accountability: Who Owns Their Damage?

Everyone screws up.

But what matters—especially in fiction where relationships define arcs—is how a character handles the fallout. Do they own it? Or do they explain it away?

Let’s just say: one of these men apologizes.

The other gives a TED Talk on why technically it wasn’t that bad.

Four doesn’t get it right all the time. But he gets it real.

There are entire stretches in Insurgent and Allegiant where Four and Tris are out of sync. They lie to each other. They keep secrets. They argue, often bitterly.

But Four apologizes. Directly. Clearly. Without excuse.

“I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”

(Allegiant)

No “but I was scared.”

No “you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

No “it was for your own good.”

Just: “I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Four treats Tris’s pain as valid. He doesn’t try to reframe her anger as irrational.

He sits in it. And learns from it.

Xaden? Oh, Xaden explains.

When Violet confronts him about hiding Brennan.

About the Venin.

About Liam’s death.

About the rebellion.

He doesn’t apologize.

He rationalizes.

“Everything I did was to keep you safe.”

(Iron Flame)

That’s not ownership. That’s strategic reframing.

He’s turning the knife while insisting it’s a hug.

And when Violet pushes harder?

“You wouldn’t have believed me. You weren’t ready.”

(Iron Flame)

That’s not remorse. That’s arrogance disguised as foresight.

Accountability is about risk. And Xaden won’t take any.

• Four risks losing Tris by telling her the truth.
• Xaden risks nothing—he hoards secrets to maintain control, and only reveals them once he’s cornered.

Even then? It’s not confession. It’s damage control.

And here’s the kicker:

When Four screws up, he questions himself.

When Xaden screws up, he questions you for being upset.

Let’s talk about Liam one more time.

Xaden’s silence led to Liam’s death.

He knew the mission was a setup. He knew Violet was walking into a trap.

He let it happen so he could preserve the rebellion’s cover.

And when Violet grieves?

When she sobs because her friend died protecting her from a danger she didn’t see coming?

“I didn’t want this either.”

(Iron Flame)

No accountability. Just damage deflection.

The mark of a good man in fiction isn’t perfection. It’s how he handles the broken glass.

Four steps on it. Bleeds. Apologizes.

Xaden rearranges the shards and tells you it’s modern art.

Moral Compass: Sacrifice for What?

In the best character arcs, stakes rise. People die. Loyalties shift.

But when death enters the chat, we get to see what someone really believes.

So let’s look at what Four and Xaden do when someone has to pay the price—and what that says about the core of who they are.

Tris dies for something bigger than herself.

She knows the cost.

She knows it will hurt the people who love her.

But she also knows someone has to go through that hallway, face that scanner, and stop the data from being destroyed.

“This is the kind of person you are. You should be the one who gets to live.”

(Allegiant)

She trades her life for a shot at something better—for everyone.

And not once does she hide behind a lie to protect Four from the truth.

Her sacrifice is painful. But it’s informed. It’s consensual.

It’s the culmination of her arc from passive initiate to ethical insurgent.

And what does Four do when she’s gone?

He grieves.

He doesn’t rewrite the story to make himself feel better.

He doesn’t blame others. He takes it.

“There are so many ways to be brave in this world.”

(Allegiant)

He lets her death mean something.

He doesn’t use it to reinforce his own agenda.

Xaden, on the other hand, is full of martyr rhetoric—with none of the receipts.

He talks a lot about sacrifice. About pain. About duty.

But when someone dies? It’s always for the cause—and never because of a choice he made.

Let’s go back to Liam.

Xaden knew the mission was a lie.

He knew Brennan was alive.

He knew Violet was walking into a setup.

And he let Liam go with her.

Without the truth. Without the tools to protect her from what was really coming.

“I never wanted him to die.”

(Iron Flame)

That might be true. But he let it happen anyway.

He chose secrecy over safety. Control over clarity.

And Liam?

Didn’t get a choice.

Didn’t get to be a willing sacrifice.

He was a pawn in a game he didn’t even know he was playing.

Here’s the moral split:

• Tris dies on her terms.
• Liam dies on Xaden’s.

And Xaden never fully owns that.

He mourns Liam, sure. But he never truly confronts the fact that his silence got someone else killed.

Because in Xaden’s world, the end justifies the means.

And if people die along the way? That’s war.

“If I had told you, it would have changed everything.”

(Iron Flame)

Exactly. That’s the point.

That’s what makes sacrifice meaningful—when people are allowed to choose it.

Tris gives her life. Xaden gives excuses.

Four loses the woman he loves and never once tries to use her memory as leverage.

Xaden loses a soldier and wraps it in layers of rebellion, grief, and self-preservation.

This isn’t just a difference in writing style.

It’s a difference in character integrity.

Yes. Tris dies—and she stays dead.

There’s no magical resurrection. No deus ex machina. No plot twist.

She dies near the end of Allegiant (Book 3) while completing the mission to release memory serum and expose the truth to the Bureau and surrounding factions.

And it’s not some vague, open-ended death either. It’s final, confirmed, and emotionally brutal:

“Her heart beats for the last time.”

—Allegiant

After she completes her task, David (the leader of the Bureau) shoots her. She survives long enough to finish the mission but dies before she can return to Four. Her death is narrated not by her, but by Tobias—who takes over the POV for the final chapters of the book.

Why it matters:

Tris’s death is:

• Deliberate: She chooses to go instead of Caleb.
• Self-aware: She knows the risk. She walks in anyway.
• Sacrificial: It’s not just about saving others—it’s about stopping a system of lies at its root.

Four never gets to say goodbye.

He doesn’t save her.

She dies a hero—and a human, not a plot device.

It was controversial when Allegiant dropped, but in hindsight, it’s one of the boldest YA endings out there. Tris’s arc doesn’t end with a love story. It ends with a choice—and the cost of being the person she always said she wanted to be: brave.

Character or Copy?

There’s a reason readers fall for both Four and Xaden.

They hit the same archetypal beats:

• Dark backstory
• Reluctant leadership
• Tactical genius
• Brooding protector energy
• The girl who pulls them out of the wreckage

It’s the broody-boy blueprint. But Xaden? He’s not a next-gen upgrade. He’s a high-gloss knockoff. A repackaged version of Four with more flair and fewer ethics.

Because here’s the truth:

Where Four is built on honesty, restraint, and respect, Xaden is powered by secrecy, control, and a need to be right.

Four gives you trust before he asks for it.

He tells Tris his real name—Tobias. He shows her his fears. He stands beside her without needing to be her handler. He challenges her, yes, but he never boxes her in.

He grows.

He adapts.

He lets her be bigger than his ego.

Xaden? He gives you a warning.

You get trust only when you prove you’re willing to follow him blind. You get honesty only after the lies have done their damage. You get closeness—but it’s conditional, and it’s rigged to collapse if you don’t fall in line.

Xaden doesn’t grow. He tightens the grip.

And when Violet pushes back? He doesn’t reflect. He rationalizes.

“You wouldn’t have stayed if you knew.”

That’s not complexity. That’s cowardice in costume.

Xaden Riorsen isn’t Four with shadows.

He’s Four without backbone.

He’s what happens when you copy the aesthetics of a good man but forget to include the moral compass.

Why We’re Obsessed with Xaden Anyway (Even Though He’s Trash)

Look. Xaden checks every box on the “this man is not emotionally safe” list.

And yet?

Women are feral for him.

He’s got fan art. Fan merch. Fanfic. Face casts.

He’s BookTok’s favorite fictional daddy since Rhysand, and let’s be honest: they’d both fail couples therapy in under ten minutes. Only Xaden isn’t a “territorial fae male” so wtf is his excuse?! 

But here’s the thing: it’s not about safety. It’s about escapism.

Xaden is:

• Hot
• Dangerous
• Unattainable
• And aggressively possessive in a way that feels flattering on the page—because it’s not happening to you.

He’s not written to be a good man.

He’s written to be an emotionally unwell fantasy.

And a lot of readers? Especially women raised on “be good, be quiet, be accommodating”?

They crave a man who wants them so much he’ll burn the world down. Even if it’s toxic. Especially if it is.

Because let’s be real:

A lot of us have never had a man protect our time, our peace, or our f***ing orgasm like it’s sacred.

Xaden might be a walking 🚩—but at least he knows how to hold your stare and make it feel like power instead of punishment.

Fiction lets us sit in the fantasy.

It’s okay to drool over Xaden, so long as you recognize:

• Violet is not in a healthy relationship.
• The trauma-bonded possessive sex is hot, not healthy.
• Wanting to ride his shadows does not mean you should settle for the guy who texts “wyd” at 1 a.m.

So yeah.

Xaden is just Four—if Four had daddy issues, a superiority complex, and was raised on the dark romance side of TikTok.

And if Violet were your friend in real life?

You’d be showing up at her barracks with wine, a dagger, and a PowerPoint titled “Girl, You in Danger.”

At the end of the day, you can love Xaden. You can fantasize about him. You can plaster his name across your phone background and imagine him whispering sweet manipulations into your ear. But let’s not confuse obsession with quality. He’s not a better version of Four—he’s a shadowy downgrade with better PR. And the only reason we’re pretending he’s emotionally complex is because he’s hot and fictional. If a real man pulled half this shit, you’d block his number and warn your friends. So by all means, enjoy the fantasy. Just don’t confuse it for a love story. Because behind the brooding and the shadows, Xaden isn’t a hero. He’s a cautionary tale with abs.