After knowing what had happened between Soren and Cael, Alaric felt as if something heavy had suddenly settled on his shoulders and pressed tightly against his chest.
It wasn't anger, at least, not in the way he was used to but it wasn't acceptance either.
The feeling lingered in that uncomfortable space in between, making it hard for him to think and decide properly.
He had never seen Soren as anything more than a substitute for Torin, his beloved healer. Soren was just a replacement, yes. He's dispensable. He can be replaced by anyone. Someone who existed only because the one they had lost was no longer there.
That was how Alaric had justified his distance and indifference. Soren was useful and necessary, but never important.
Or so he had believed.
He didn't even pay much attention to him the very first time Soren set foot on the Davenmore Estate until now that he arrived in the north.
