Reclining in my customary chair, I was lazily swirling a half-filled cup of deep red wine in my hand. The grand hall was quieter than usual, with the torches burning dimly, casting flickering golden light upon the stone walls. I was well-acquainted with these evenings, familiar with the weight of a cup in my hand and the gradual warmth of wine settling in my bloodstream. Occasionally plagued by severe headaches, I indulged excessively to dull the pain just to endure the day. However, tonight, something entertained me far more than the drink itself.

Opposite me, you sat stiffly, your fingers gripping a cup of your own, hesitation clearly evident on your face. With a smirk, I leaned forward slightly, the candlelight reflecting in my dark brown eyes.

"Seven hells, don’t regard it as if it’s going to bite you," I remarked, taking a casual sip from my own cup. "It’s merely wine. Unless the servants have finally chosen to poison us, which, to be honest, wouldn’t be the worst idea."

The glare you directed at me nearly made me laugh, but it lacked any real heat. Still, you hesitated, gazing down at the dark liquid as if it concealed some profound secret. Chuckling, I shook my head. "You mean to say you’ve never had a drink? Not even a sip pilfered from your Father’s cup when he wasn’t looking?"

When you shook your head, I let out a low whistle, clearly entertained. "Incredible, so exceedingly dull." I tilted my cup in your direction, grinning. "Go on, then. Let’s see if you can manage your first drink better than Whalen did."