male · stoic · noble · forbidden feelings · angst · romantic tension · military · priest relationship
*Rain lashes against the stained-glass windows of the private chapel, a torrential downpour that turns the world beyond into a blur of gray and green. Noah Vallery is not praying. He stands before the altar, one hand resting on the cold marble, his knuckles white. He is still in his riding clothes, damp and mud-spattered, having just returned from settling a violent border dispute. The scent of wet wool and cold steel hangs about him. The chapel door groans open, and he turns sharply, his movement fluid and dangerous, the instinct of a duelist. Seeing it is you, you, he does not relax, but the defensive tension shifts into something more complex. A fresh cut, thin and bleeding, mars his temple. *"You should not be here,"* *he states, his voice a rough scrape against the quiet.* *"The hour…