The Prince's Kiss - Prinxiety [COMPLETED]

Chapter Seventeen

Roman was trying to keep a straight face as he sat down to eat with Virgil and his parents. He felt tense; something about knowing that he'd just been heatedly kissing the boy sitting next to him. He also happened to be Patton and Logan's son, so there was that to be concerned about too.

"Good luck trying to keep up that straight face," Virgil muttered in his ear as they sat down. "Considering how very not straight you are, that should be quite the challenge for you, your Highness."

The prince nearly choked on his on saliva, coughing uncontrollably and covering his mouth quickly. Virgil was smirking a tiny and raised his eyebrow at him.

"Your Highness, we really must get you something for that cough," Patton said with a frown. "We've got to have something to help with it right?"

Logan straightened his glasses and opened his mouth to speak, but Roman beat him to it. "N-No, no, I'm fine, really," he reassured, hitting his chest a little bit and clearing his throat. He stole a glance at Virgil, cheeks burning. "I just had a small knot in my throat. I'm fine."

Virgil smirked as he got a wicked idea. "You might have had something else in your throat if he hadn't called us down when he did," he muttered out of the side of his mouth for only Roman to hear. The prince had just been taking a sip of his drink when what he said hit him. He swallowed harshly to keep from spiting it out. The artist smirked to himself even after he received a kick from under the table.

"Are you feeling alright your Highness?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion of what might've been going on. "Your face is very red, perhaps you have a fever."

Virgil had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he received a glare from him. "I assure you, I am fine, though I'm very grateful for your concerns," he said evenly. "Did you make this, Patton?"

The artist's father nodded enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face. "It's incredible! You rival the chefs we have at the palace for certain," he praised with a kind smile in his direction.

"T-Thank you, your Highness!" Patton exclaimed with a gasp. He was beaming with pride as he looked over at Logan. Virgil rolled his eyes at the prince, not sure if he was trying to suck up to his parents or he just happened to be complimenting them.

"Pleasant dinners aside," Logan spoke once they'd finished. "We need to discuss what happened tonight at the ball."

Roman nodded, his demeanor changing to one of seriousness. There had been an attack on the palace, his kingdom, and his people. He'd only made it out because Virgil pulled him into the tunnels. "Yes, I have to first thank Virgil again for getting me to safety, and thank you two for providing that safety."

"Not a problem, your Highness," Patton said, sitting up straighter. "It's our duty. Just like it's our duty to help you take back the palace after an attack like this. Your father should've been able to make it out, and is probably in another safe house in the tunnels. When they were built, they all lead here, but there's places in the tunnels for people to hide should there be a need for it."

He let out a sigh of relief knowing his father was more than likely safe. Virgil sat up, playfulness gone from his gaze as well. "His Highness will need to contact him, so we can conduct a plan. His Majesty should be able to find his way to the barracks of the palace to recruit any military members still there."

Logan nodded, standing. "I can relay a message to him," he said, preparing to leave. "In the meantime, Patton and Virgil, you two can gather supplies we may need to send to their aid. I'll find out from his Majesty what else we could do to help with the reclaiming of the palace."

He shared a kiss with Patton and headed down into the tunnels. Prince Roman looked between Patton and Virgil as they moved to start gathering supplies. "What can I do to help?" he asked.

"Nothing, you need to rest, your Highness," Patton said sternly, pushing him toward Virgil's room. "Virgil has no issues with you sharing his room, so please, go get some rest."

The prince looked dismayed as he then turned and walked away. Virgil looked at him, smiling at him in pity as he approached him to press a short kiss to his lips. "I won't be gone long. If you're tired, sleep. If you want to wait for me to come up, it should be twenty minutes or so," he whispered. Roman nodded as he pulled away, heading upstairs without further argument.

The artist sighed and followed his father down into the basement. They were gathering supplies of different kinds, unearthing things he'd forgetting were even there. He was holding a long, thin black sword, covered in dust when he spoke up. "Hey Dad... what exactly is our gift of combat?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the sword. "Like, what is it? Do we still have it?"

Patton looked at him in surprise, glancing at the sword before looking back at his face. "Well, in our ancestors' time, things like magic and legend were very much a part of their lives. They were believed to be true, and magic to be real. Our bloodline was special in that it seemed anyone in it had a gift. Gifts of combat and the arts appeared in each of the members of our bloodline. It was one or the other, and each member of our family graced with combat had their own weapon forged specially for them. They appeared when they were fifteen and able to start training."

"Who's is this one?" Virgil asked quietly as he ran his fingers over the handle, amethysts shimmering as he wiped away the dust. It seemed to speak to him, much like it had when he stumbled upon it a few years ago.

Patton looked at it thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," he said. "We're clearly gifted in the arts though. I in construction and creation of clothing, and you in drawing; but just because we're not 'gifted' doesn't mean we can't fight exceptionally well. Our whole family was skilled in combat regardless of their gift."

The artist nodded in understanding, still gazing at the sword in his hands. It was enchanting, the way the black blade glistened. If I'd been gifted in combat rather than art, he thought. I would've wanted my sword to look like this one.