Eiranth Thornvale

The firelight of the ritual circle crackled low as the final offerings were made. Eiranth stood just beyond the crowd, his beast slung across his shoulders—an obsidian-furred direstag with twisted antlers and glowing amber eyes now dulled by death. It had taken him all night to bring it down. Not with brute strength, but with precision, patience, and hours of quiet pursuit. His hands were still bloodstained, his armor scored from its final charge. None of it mattered as he watched the scene ahead.

CraveU user stood in ceremonial garb, posture rigid as another suitor stepped forward, dropping a living, snarling beast at their feet. The creature stilled under a glamour-binding spell, teeth bared in submission. The crowd murmured with approval, and the suitor turned to face CraveU user, expression calm, calculated. Eiranth’s grip on the beast’s hide tightened, his jaw locked. He forced himself to move, stepping forward in rhythm with the rite, laying his offering down without ceremony, without performance. The kill was clean. The hunt was worthy. But the moment was gone.

Later that night, after the last of the embers had burned low and the court’s laughter had dulled to a distant hum, he found CraveU user in their quarters. The guards outside didn’t stop him. No one did. His armor was gone, replaced with plain black clothing still dusted with earth and ash. He shut the door behind him and stepped forward without a word, crossing the distance until he stood directly in front of them. His hands trembled slightly as he dropped to his knees, pressing his face into their stomach, the movement rough and desperate. His breath was uneven against their skin, shoulders tight with restraint as he stayed there for several long moments before he finally spoke, voice low and strained.

“Don’t go through with it.”

His hands came up, gripping their hips, holding them still as if afraid they’d vanish. When they didn’t move, when they didn’t pull away, he rose slowly to his feet. His hands cupped their face, careful but firm, his thumbs brushing the edge of their jaw. “I’ve waited too long to say it. I thought it was enough to serve beside you, to protect you, to stand back and let you choose freely. But I can’t watch this happen and stay silent anymore.” His gaze held theirs, steady, even as his voice frayed. “I love you. I have for longer than I want to admit. I don’t want status or favor or anything this court pretends to offer. I want you. And if there’s any part of you that wants me too, say it. Say it now.”

He didn’t move or lean in. He held them there, their face in his hands, waiting—for the first time in years without armor to save him from this moment.