^ Roman's stronghold, or how I imagined it would look like.
This is what happens when I watch the trailer of Beauty and the Beast 5 times in a row.
The artwork is by e-designer (Alexei Malachov)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"My goodness," King Felipe laughs heartily, hands on his stomach, at the tale of Roman, "That poor man must have wet himself."
By the wheezing the King makes, people outside of the room might assume that he's strangling the lad. Sometimes, it makes Roman think how fragile the king is with his condition, even in such a ripe age, he has always been sickly as described to him by the previous ruler.
A slender neck, he sees it from beneath the loose tunic of his Majesty. Roman could easily snap that neck with one hand, no effort needed. He sighs, such vulgar thoughts from someone deemed a hero of the nation.
For someone so young and terribly bed- ridden, King Felipe "The Pale" Morrison makes up for it with his intelligence and enthusiasm in court. A people person, one might say, all to ready to listen to the pleas and complaints of the populace and help. A true leader, he thinks. Still lacking in experience.
"I doubt it, your Highness," Roman replies casually, already used to the king's apparent delight to his stories, "The warden must've been surprised."
"I think that you must have look terrifying blood and guts splattered all over your clothes, sword and axe in hand." There was no malice or underlying insult in his words, quite the opposite, he's fascinated.
"I guess any folk would be terrified of me, weapons and armor on." Roman laughs, his cup of wine still full, "Like a maniac."
"Oh! No!" the king retorts, face red, clutching the edge of the table tightly, "You'd be dashing and handsome as you are. Like, those knights and princes in fairy tales. It's just that in that time, he caught you in your more unsavory moments after doing your heroics."
Roman raises a brow at that. Still not used to the king's compliments. Really, this child would say the oddest things and could never keep a straight face when talking to him.
The king stands up, going behind his seat.
"Have you ever wanted a lover?"
A sudden change of topic, Roman thinks, and an unnecessary one.
Roman could hear the light steps of his majesty pacing just behind him, impatiently waiting for an answer.
He plays with the rim of his cup, his finger tracing he circular edge, "No, not at all."
He could hear a hitch of breath just behind.
"Really?" The King Felipe sounds so eager, like he's waiting, "Not even a tiny bit interested in anyone?"
Roman stands and turns to look at him, figure intimidating, "Why are you asking?"
His majesty shudders and looks away, blushing till the tip of his ears, "Well, you are the talk of the court. Both men and women are quite taken by you, our hero."
Roman rubs his chin, deep in thought. It never really occurred to him to have a relationship outside the intimacy of a bed in a tavern or a brothel.
"Men, you say?", He threads lightly. He's trying to coax out a reaction.
"It-It's no jest," The King's eyes turned serious, "Even two men can be in a relationship now, a legal partnership! A- and as well as two women."
"You mean, like some sort of business or trade?"
"No," His majesty bites his lower lip and looks determinedly at Roman, willing him to understand, "A romantic one where you are both legally together."
"Alright. And?"
"I mean... I heard from one of your soldiers that you favor both men and women," He sighs wistfully, looking at Roman hopefully, "You know be it man or woman it won't matter."
Roman wonders why it matters to him.
"Just curious is all. There are rumors that you go from tavern to tavern to spend the night with random people."
Accurate rumors.
"They are true,"
The king looks like the doe he speared, a week ago. All wide- eyed and unable to believe that he would do such a thing.
"I'm glad that you are concerned about the 'romance' in my life." He presses forward to the king. "But who I take to bed shouldn't matter to you."
His Majesty looks disheartened and hurt. Roman simply shakes his head, an odd child.
"If I found someone I genuinely like, you'll be the first to know." He ruffles the King's head, "But for now, I'm probably still in search."
But the King still looks downcast. Roman sighs, give it a day or two and he'll stop sulking.
"I need to go, Felipe. I need to make my rounds." He closes the doors behind him, not looking back once.
"I hope you don't, Roman." The King says.
-------------
"The boy likes you," Gared says a matter-of-factly, "Been visiting your stronghold for months, making piss poor excuses to talk to a retired general."
"Hero worship, he's young." He ignores his sentinel. Gared has always been too sharp tongued, "It will die down in time once he gets old. You should address the King properly."
"Hero worship, my ass! Then his Royal Majesty wants to royally be screwed by you."
Roman elbows him lightly on the rib, "You ingrate. You're lucky he knighted you before he can hear you say that."
Surely, the king is young. Twenty two years old and still so fascinated by tales of heroes. It would be better for him to hear it in full. War is always addled with tragedies that people learn from. Spoiled rotten by his nannies because of parents, who were too busy attending to council meetings and balls. The only saving grace was the values that those fairy tales taught to him.
"Enough of petty crushes." Roman holds the grip of his sword and looks straight at Gared, "I heard that some merchant wants to trade at this time of the year."
"Nearing winter?" Gared asks, tipping his head and whistles merrily, "What goods?"
"Honey," He answers. "The sweetest and purest, they say."
"Like your bed partners."
"No, none of them are. And I've never met people of such... values."
---------
"Honey. Of all the things you could have given us. Honey."
"Meat and ale is better. We don't need no tea condiments."
"Are we going for tea?"
"Winter is upon us. We can't fill our bellies with bee shit."
If it wasn't for their current location, Roman would've thought that they're in court and debating who gets this and who gets that. But here they are in the Great Hall of his stronghold.
Discussing about something sweet.
It's making his mouth entirely sour, just the thought of the saccharine flavor.
"Enough!"
Roman's voice boomed from where he sat. His soldiers placated from their positions.
"Let the man talk," He inclines his head to the side, "Psst.. Gared, what's the name of the merchant?"
Roman hears a soft chuckle, Gared must be trying to contain himself.
"Just give me the parchment."
Gared slips a piece of paper on his lap.
He peers at it, and says out loud, "Baron Quentin Fitzgerald."
"Move aside or I will castrate each and every one of you if you don't let me see the man!"
His jaw is tightly drawn, teeth gnashing, "You lot weren't trained to be petulant children."
Roman scans the crowd for any nay sayers, and sadly no one's brave enough to go against him.
"Move forward, Baron."
His soldiers move aside giving way and standing ramrod like they are on duty. The quick shuffle of boots signals him to lean forward and place his hands on his knees.
He hears the soft click of boots on the floor.
The first thing he sees is the boots, of course, well- brushed it seems as the dark colored foot wear gleams like one of his favorite swords.
His slender legs are accentuated by the tight slacks. Roman thinks that it adds an undeniable elegance that only he has seen from the late queen.
On the coat and tunic he wears rests an ornamental mantle, it has a silhouette of a chickadee or a robin. A symbol of grace, befitting him.
Roman does not try to let it show in his face, but he did.
He wonders if he had been blessed by the gods or even visited by a god, a deity or a higher being. Is it a hallucination or a trick created by his traitorous eyes?
He does not know what possessed his own two feet to stand up and stride towards the noble.
There were several whispers from his men, but his eyes remain glued to the divinity in front of him. He bends one knee, takes the soft pale hands without permission, and kisses it. He savors the warmth of the skin on his lips. Roman hears the sudden intake of breath from the Baron, that only now that he realized that he was given an intimate indication.
The Baron gapes at him, astonished at such a grand gesture.
"What great deed have I done to receive a visit from you?" What spell is this? The words fly so easily from his mouth.
"I come to make a bargain with your House," How melodious, it rings softly in his ears and he relishes it, "But to be accepted with such amiability is beyond me."
Roman dares look up. And he feels himself rooted on the spot, his throat gone dry, and unable to look away.
He no longer taste the sourness on his tongue.
webdu/C