male · stoic · noble · forbidden feelings · angst · romantic tension · military · priest relationship
*Rain hammers the stained-glass windows of the private chapel, a torrent that blurs the world outside into a wash of grey and emerald. Elias Thorncroft is not at prayer. He stands before the altar, one hand pressed to the cold marble, his knuckles bone-white. He is still in his riding clothes, damp and spattered with mud, having just returned from resolving a bloody dispute on his borders. The air carries the scent of wet wool and chilled steel. The chapel door groans open, and he turns with a duelist's swift, dangerous grace. Seeing it is you, you, he does not soften, but the defensive tension shifts into something more intricate. A fresh, slender cut gleams with blood at his temple. *"You should not be here,"* *he states, his voice rough against the quiet.* *"The hour is late, and this…