A Drink Before Battle [MxM] ✅

Extra 1: Ancestor Night

CW: homophobic bullying, oblique use of an archaic slur, nonconsensual kissing

Extra One

Ancestor Night

As the autumn days shortened, night fell early. On one particular night, though, the village would remain as bright as day throughout the hours of darkness. An enormous bonfire blazed at the center of the town square. Lamps and torches lit up every lane. A candle was set in every window and each house kindled its hearth fire, the light spilling out through doors open to welcome neighbors for a share of cake and ale. The town bustled with adults visiting house to house while their children ran wild in the streets, playing pranks and stuffing their faces full of sweets.

At the edge of the town square, a group of teenage boys, all wearing their clothes inside-out and masks covering the upper half of their faces, took a break from their shenanigans to riffle through their bags, showing off trinkets they'd swiped from their neighbors.

After spending all day helping to sweep fallen leaves from the square and carrying wood for the bonfire, their adolescent bodies, already bulking up with impending manhood, still had plenty of energy for the night's revelry. They were loud and rowdy, their voices cracking as they ribbed each other with lewd insults, pushing and shoving while trading their stolen loot.

Some distance away, Kyrzhan stood alone, furtively watching them through the eyeholes of his mask with more than a little trepidation.

At fifteen, Kyrzhan stood almost a full head shorter than other boys his age, and his body was still slender and delicate. He had no interest in the rough games others enjoyed, preferring to spend his time reading, learning accounts to help with the family business, or arranging flowers with his grandmother. Most years on Ancestor Night, he would accompany her to bake spice cakes and serve them to visiting neighbors.

But his grandmother had passed away in the spring, and his mother had insisted that he go out to "have fun with the others." He'd only wandered the streets alone for an hour, with a mask on his face and a hood over his head, trying not to call attention to himself in the bustle. He knew that with the permissiveness of the festival, and most of their fathers still traveling with the merchant caravans, the village boys would be at their most fearless and ferocious tonight.

Even so, when one of those teenage boys left his friends to throw more wood onto the bonfire, Kyrzhan plucked up his courage and hesitantly approached him.

"Gavrekh?" he called softly.

The boy tossed the log he held, then his eyes met Kyrzhan's briefly before darting over his shoulder to the friends he'd left behind.

"What are you doing here?" Gavrekh asked coldly, blue eyes glaring through the mask beneath his short blonde hair.

"I, um... have something for you."

Kyrzhan fished around in his cloak before remembering that he wore it reversed and its pocket was outside. He finally found it after an awkward struggle, then reached his hand toward Gavrekh. In his palm sat an apple the color of an autumn sunset, deep hues of burgundy and orange with a burst of golden yellow around the stem. It was small, but its skin was perfectly unblemished and gleaming, as if it had just been plucked from the tree.

"It's a rare variety from Thalesia," Kyrzhan said nervously. "Brought over by Alchemists. It's very hard to get."

Gavrekh's hard stare softened, and he hmmph'd.