author's note: whatever characters we play, my husband cannot resist adding some shippy elements lmao. so here is a fluffy drabble that was inspired by character building conversations while listening to soldier, poet, king - cullen vance

The tavern buzzed with life, the warm glow of lanterns casting flickering patterns across the wooden walls. The scent of roast meat, honeyed ale, and fresh bread filled the air as the party sat at their table, bellies full and moods lifted after a long stretch of travel.

Rae curled her hands around a tankard of cider, letting its warmth seep into her fingers. She was always quiet, always on the edge of conversation rather than in the thick of it. Draskan, seated beside her, filled in the spaces where she hesitated. He had an easy charm, one that made others lean in when he spoke, eager to hear what he had to say. It was a skill honed from years of tending his apothecary, where words soothed as much as potions did.

The fighter and the ranger had wandered off to engage in their own revelry, leaving Rae and Draskan to their quiet companionship. The live band struck up a new tune—lively, quick, something meant to bring people to their feet. And it worked. Around them, tables were abandoned as patrons rushed to the open space in front of the musicians, eager to move with the music. Boots stomped, skirts swirled, laughter rang out as the dance took shape in the center of the room.

Draskan leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos with an amused glint in his eye. Rae did the same, but her expression was different—softer, wistful. A flicker of longing passed through her gaze, there and gone in an instant, but Draskan caught it.

He tilted his head toward her. "You want to dance."

Rae blinked, startled. "I—what? No."

He chuckled. "You do. I saw it."

She hesitated, gaze dropping to her cider. "I don't know how."

"Neither do I," he said, grinning as he held out a hand. "Let's learn together."

For a moment, she did nothing. Her fingers twitched against the mug, uncertainty clear in the way she kept her shoulders tucked close. Then, slowly, cautiously, a tiny smile curved her lips—shy, but real.

She placed her hand in his.

Draskan led her to the edge of the dance floor, where the steps were fast, and the rhythm wove between the spinning pairs like a heartbeat. "Alright," he said, turning to her. "How do we start?"

Rae shook her head with a half-smile. "You're the one who asked."

"Right. So, let's fake it." He took an exaggerated stance, lifting one foot high before placing it down with a theatrical stomp. Rae smiled wider as he clumsily spun in place, narrowly missing a nearby couple.

"You're terrible," she said, though amusement sparkled in her eyes.

"You say that like you can do better," he shot back.

She bit her lip, hesitating only a moment before she took a tentative step forward, then another, trying to mimic what she saw around her. Draskan followed suit, their movements uncoordinated but not unpleasant.

The music picked up, and for a few moments, they found a rhythm. Not perfect, not polished, but theirs. Rae’s fingers were light in Draskan’s grip, her usual hesitance softened by the music and the playful atmosphere.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he pulled her onto the floor—perhaps more of her usual guardedness, that careful way she held herself apart from the world. But instead, she surprised him.

The first time she giggled—truly giggled—it was soft and breathless, spilling from her lips like the chime of a delicate bell. It caught him off guard, striking something deep in his chest. She looked so different when she laughed, unguarded and bright in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Draskan faltered mid-step, nearly stumbling over his own boots. Rae barely noticed, too caught up in their clumsy attempts to keep up with the lively music. But he noticed—oh, he noticed.

Her eyes sparkled with something he hadn’t realized he longed to see in them: joy. A strand of hair had slipped from behind her ear, framing her face as she tilted her head back in another quiet, breathless laugh. And gods, she was—

Lovely.

The realization settled in his chest like a weight, warm and unsettling all at once.

Rae Nighthollow was peculiar, strange, often lost in thought and prone to long silences. She spoke to the dead more easily than the living, and her presence was always tinged with an air of the eerie. And yet, here she was, flushed and laughing, light on her feet as they stumbled through the dance together.

And Draskan—intelligent, practical Draskan—found himself staring at her like a fool.

Something shifted inside him, subtle but undeniable. A quiet sort of affection had always been there, woven into the fabric of their companionship, but now it curled into something different, something unspoken.

"Draskan?" Rae's voice pulled him back.

He blinked, realizing too late that he had stopped moving, their hands still clasped as she looked up at him with faint confusion.

"Got distracted," he admitted, forcing an easy smile. "You’re better at this than I thought you’d be."

She laughed. "That’s not saying much."

He chuckled, pushing aside the warmth in his chest. "True."

The music shifted into another lively tune, and instead of letting her go, Draskan squeezed her hand, leading her right back into the dance.

Whatever this new feeling was—this strange, burgeoning thing—he wasn’t ready to name it yet.

But as Rae laughed again, stumbling into him as they twirled clumsily across the floor, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind finding out.