Work Text:
Thom sat quietly, knowing that Roger was nearby in the darkness, that the other sorcerer watched him when Thom thought he was alone.
Everything had gotten so out of his control, an admission that Thom could hardly bear to make, even to himself. He had wanted to prove that he was worth something, that he had something to be proud of. After a childhood of his father refusing to even look at him, let alone acknowledge him as a worthy son, this desire was rooted deep. It was the reason he'd gone to the City of the Gods with the intention of being the best, and damn the consequences.
Now, with the dead man he had thought to control standing behind him, a hand lightly pressing the back of his neck, Thom could admit that he had condemned himself to this fate.
Roger slid his hands to his shoulders, his throat. Thom closed his eyes.
Forgive me, Alanna.