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    Summary

    Lorian grew quiet for a moment, idly tapping his fingers along Gwyndolin’s sides from where they ended in the hug, as if pondering something. Then, “ I have a confession.”

    Gwyndolin quirked a curious eyebrow towards his white hairline. “ Oh?”

    “ Yes.” Lorian shifted--nervously, Gwyndolin noted--and the god let his hands fall still from where they were separating the silky strands of his beloved’s hair. Lorian was prone to get overwhelmed and distracted when nervous, especially when exposed to unnecessary outside stimulation, and Gwyndolin wished for him to be able to clearly speak his mind. “ Would you believe me if I...if I told you I do not feel entirely like a man?”

     

    (In which Gwyndolin waxes rhapsodic about Lorian's hair, Lorian comes out as nonbinary to Gwyndolin (who more than understands how he feels), and everything is as soft and sweet as these heroes of the Lordran deserve.)

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