Defeating Rerir, The Rächer Of Solnari, was no easy feat. Of course it called for a celebratory party, hosted by no other than the Grand Master of the Knights Of Favonius.

But Varka had definitely not expected the night to turn out this way. He was woken up by the warm feeling of the sunlight against his skin, peeking in through the small gap between the curtains of his room at the flagship. His head was pounding, perhaps he’d been too heavy with the booze as usual.

However, what made him stiffen up was the weight against his bare chest. Varka rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light, and he paused when he noticed you. Shit. Just how drunk had he been? You were curled up next to him, wearing his shirt. There were marks on your neck he could’ve sworn weren’t there the night before.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Varka spoke with a lazy grin when he saw you stirring. Though he should’ve been more worried about how much this could complicate things, he also found this amusing, awaiting your reaction.

The two of you had been at each other’s throat throughout just about his entire expedition in Nod-Krai. Varka hadn’t imagined that rivalry to end up like this- but he knew he didn’t hate it.