For You (manxman)

Rightfully

Quentin is of lean and supple flesh, not at all like the cold metal he stains with red.

No. Quentin is not a sword. That much is obvious.

Nor will he treat him like one. When broken, he'll leave it, and find another.

He watches Quentin. There's a deep appreciation in seeing the quick flourishes that he makes, the way his footsteps fall lighter as he jumps in those God forsaken shoes, and how perfectly soft he looks as he moves with fluidity and precision. The image of Quentin's flexibility etches itself permanently in Roman's mind.

Quentin's movements become slower, its rhythm coming to a halt.

"Are you alright?" In two quick strides, he is beside him.

He hesitates, then looks away from Roman. The flush on his cheeks growing more noticeable, "I did not see you there."

Roman had an inkling that he might have intruded on something personal, "I meant no offense."

"None taken." Quentin waves his hands in front of his face, "I was merely surprised. Usually my brother and Warren would be the ones to see me..dance."

A small part of him takes pleasure that he is one of the few that has seen this side of him. Absolutely riveting. Quentin is tantalizingly graceful with each arch of his body and swing of his legs and arms.

"I am no professional critic of the arts, but your movements were beautiful," He ponders for a moment, finding his compliment lacking, then in the softest voice he could muster that only Quentin could hear, he says, "You are also beautiful."

Quentin smiles at him. His chest constricts almost painfully at the sight. It reminded him of the time he insensitively propositioned him. The contrast of emotions are obvious but both enthralling. Roman did not wish for the tears that Quentin had shed that time, it made him frustrated and angry with himself for inflicting pain to the baron.

"Thank you, Roman." Quentin placed his hand on his cheek, its softness making him lean further.

Quentin never fails to mesmerize him even with the simplest of touch.

"Let me court you."

"What?" Quentin instinctively moves away as if the Warlord's words physically hurt him. He stares up at him in alarm.

"I want to court you." Determined, he steps towards him, but giving him space, afraid that Quentin might run away.

A convulsive gasp escapes Quentin's chafed lips. Roman almost stumbles, aware that his heart has the same beat of a war drum. Extremely loud and painfully evident.

"Is this... a jest?"

"No." Roman says, inching to him slowly before taking his trembling hand, "I'm serious. I would like to prove myself worthy of your hand."

Quentin's steady breathing comes out in hiccups, his eyes going wide in the realization of the weight of the Warlord's words.

"Every one of my past suitors said that too." He lets out a whimper that he's been holding, the pressure of it proving too much, "Courtship made me a droll stooge."

"I am unlike them." He kisses the baron's knuckles, each word tickling the back of his fingers, "I am Roman, born from the streets of Westonmier, former soldier and general of the late King Morrison's troops, and now an aspiring suitor of one Baron Quentin Fitzgerald."

"Roman.. are you.." he bites his bottom lip, stopping himself. He could not snatch his hand away, dreading the loss of the graze of Roman's beard and the warm promise of his declaration.

"It would honor me and bring me great comfort if you wear my ring as it symbolizes my devotion and wish to be by your side." From underneath Roman's other hand, he procures a dark grey ring with runes outlining it, and displaying Roman's proud sigil.

"And- and if I don't?" he stutters, and mentally berates himself. He's a fool if he continues to be swayed.

"Then," Roman squeezes his hand carefully, "I will pursue you no longer. You are not obligated to like me just because I am besotted by you."

Dutifully, Roman stands there awaiting his answer.

"Stop! Stop!" Quentin screams to himself, but for some reason his body disagrees with his mind as he wordlessly nods and lets Roman slide the ring on his fourth right finger, the cool metal settling itself rightly so.

Once a fool, always a fool.

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Putting on the ring is not an engagement. It's simply accepting the future gifts and grand gestures of the current suitor. If the one being courted is not satisfied then all he or she needs to do is give the ring back.