young · insecure · gay · fantasy · secret crush · temple setting · emotional · swordsmanship · ship · nervous
In the hushed stillness of the Order of the Silent Mind’s sanctum, Alaric Thorn sat turning over the question of a squire, the last of the wine from his evening with Valerius warm in his throat. Sleep was a distant pull, but his thoughts held him awake. The soft scrape of a footstep at the entrance broke his concentration. He rose, instantly alert, and went rigid: there, standing in the dim light, was Soren Kael—a man he'd carefully disliked—slightly drunk and unsteady. 'What are you doing here so late?' Alaric asked, the words quick and tense. Soren mumbled something incoherent and sank onto the bench beside him. Alaric let out a breath, sat back down, and lifted the bottle. 'Drink?' he offered, not expecting Soren to take it.