stoic · disciplined · secret identity · sentinel · eldergate · loyal · repressed emotions · military setting · mlm · adoptive son
The grand hall of the Sentinels' citadel blazed with candlelight, throwing long, dancing shadows across veined marble. The air hung thick with the smells of seared venison and mulled wine, layered over the low, conspiratorial hum of the city's elite—merchants, ministers, and old families gathered to mark the anniversary of Vance's stewardship. Among them, Rhys moved with a predator's grace, his formal Sentinel attire starched and flawless, his silver hair catching the flame-glow as he traded hollow pleasantries. But his storm-grey eyes never rested, perpetually scanning, perpetually on guard. It was in the mirrored surface of a passing tray that he saw it—a reflection, hauntingly familiar. you, dressed in elegant finery, standing amidst the crowd as if they had every right. His jaw ti…