For You (manxman)

When to Stop

"Roman!" Felipe shouts as he tries and fails to envelope him in a hug, His built body too big for the willowy arms of the king.

He raises an eyebrow at this closeness, and looks at Gared like, "What's going on?"

Gared clears his throat, rather uncomfortable, "His majesty wishes to see you." Again.

In retaliation with the embrace, Roman taps Felipe's back, "Good to see you too, Felipe."

"Well then, I'll show myself out." Gared nods at Roman, and exits with a bow, "Good day, your majesty. Lord Reinhart."

Upon hearing the door close, Felipe cups his face. Rubbing his thumbs on his cheeks.

It felt so awkward for Roman that he had to move away.

8989898989

That hurt... Felipe thinks.

Roman isn't used to him being clingy. He understands that.

What he can't understand is why Roman looks at him indifferently like all the other people around him. Yet there was one exception. He was with Roman longer, so why does that baron get to have Roman look at him that way? Look at him like he's something so very precious.

He follows Roman around the room, like a lost pup. It's embarrassing but it's natural for him since he met Roman.

Felipe pulls at his sleeve, "I know you hate parties."

"That you are right." Roman turns to him with a wry smile.

"I was hoping you'd come to the annual winters ball." Felipe's voice sounded higher than usual. He squirms on the spot.

It's a stupid move. But he won't know unless he tries, right?

"I cannot. I have to patrol the borders that day."

"But the Gaumonds would cover that job!" He counters all too enthusiastically, "And the King's Guards will be patrolling the castle."

"Nevertheless, there's been unrest beyond my walls." Roman fixes him a stern stare, "I plan on investigating on it as much as I can."

"Is there really no other way?" Felipe visibly deflates.

"If I have the time, I'll come."

That's Roman's term of 'NO'. He never had time to visit the kingdom. More like, he never made time.

It may be un-Kingly but he wants to scream, or even stomp his feet. He doesn't understand this unjustifiable anger he has.

He quells it down, and pushes back the angry tears threatening to embarrass him further, "I'll leave an invitation here, alright?"

Roman nods at him, "Felipe, we'll have to keep this short. I have more business to attend to."

"I understand. I just wanted to extend this invitation to you." He places the neat envelope on the table, pinning it down with a candle holder.

"I appreciate it." Roman ruffles his hair, and he allows himself a small smile, "I'm sure your advisors are going mad with you gone."

Felipe knows that it's odd to let the King himself give him the invitation in person. Roman's even trying his best not to question him about it or he simply isn't that interested.

What does he have to do to get his man's attention?

45454545454545454545454545454545

Sometimes he forgets. Forgets that Roman is dubbed "The Butcher" with all the talks of trade and peace, and how he tries to mingle with them to get to an agreement.

But he remembers, when Roman's arm would move so fast it's as if it was never there, and their enemies would simply fall on the ground lifeless.

Gared often thinks that he came from the books his father and mother would read to him. A demon made by the gods to wreak havoc.

"Make a pit, gather the corpses there and burn them."

It rather fits Roman, blood splattered all over his clothes, and a sword in hand that doesn't belong to him. He ploughed through them so easily. Gared swears that it was a trick of his eyes. A beast in its natural habitat.

Gared pushes through inexperienced soldiers who are emptying the remains of their lunch.

"Wouldn't it be better if we beheaded all of these corpses and put it all on pikes or just hang them by their necks on a big oak tree by the road so we they'd know that we aren't to be pushed around?"

"It wouldn't sit well with visiting dignitaries, and folks wanting to stay with us. And besides, these are marauders." He kicks a body into the pit, "It's not like I'm condemning the innocent."

"But can't we make better use of them?" Gared uses the tip of his sword to tap on a corpse, "Like a scare crow to a crow."

Roman shakes his head and glares at him, "We're not playing with the dead."

Gared nods, choosing to stop. He sheathes his sword, "But you're playing with the living."

"Why do you say that?"

He makes himself look menacing or the very least unafraid despite the fact that most of the men in the pit were killed by the man infront of him.

"As I said before, this thing you have with the baron. Is it even real?" he tries not to breathe through his nose, dreading to inhale more of their grotesque work.

"Yes." It flew right out of Roman's mouth so easily, tenderly with a smile. Gared fears that he might have broken Roman with his question.

He just needed to hear it again, just to make sure, "I beg your pardon..?"

"Yes, it is real." He answers loudly this time that some of their men turn towards them before looking away again.

The Sentinel turns to the bright flame just three feet away from them, "You will hurt him. Like all the others."

"I don't plan to."

"Be it your deed or not, he will eventually get hurt from your relationship with him."

"Do you think I can throw you in that pit?"

"Wha-"

He feels an instant tight bruising grip on his neck. The only thing he was capable of right now is a choked cry.

Gared is dangling right above the flame that is consuming several unnamed barbarians, and he's only saving grace is the hand holding or rather, choking him. The added weight of his sword is not helping the pressure on his neck.

"Your worries could all be over if I let two or three of my fingers slip from its place on your neck." In demonstration, he felt stress from the fingers, "I did not ask you for his hand. Remember that."

His vision is becoming narrow, and the sounds of voices and the surroundings are farther. Like his senses are being dulled.

The warlord throws him back roughly on the safe soil.

"It's not my decision for him to choose me nor is it yours."

Gared cannot reply with his already injured neck and non-stop coughing. He keeps his hands covering his neck afraid of the next terrible thing that might happen to him.

"Remember, Gared," Roman looks down to him, jaws set tight, "It is solely up to him."

Truly, this is one of those days he forgets.