Fantasizing a war - A Sanders Sides Trilogy

Mornings' Mourning

Virgil woke up without Roman on the morning of Philips' funeral. For a brief moment, it had confused him for the day hadn't yet registered. The prince sat up, looking around for his lover. He was sure Roman had still been awake when he'd fallen asleep, but he couldn't remember exactly when he'd fallen asleep. Reaching out, Virgil felt the opposite side of the bed, praying silently that he'd either feel Romans' shoulder or that the bed would at least be warm. It was freezing and Virgils' heart plummeted.

He moved stiffly out of bed, with a kitten-like yawn, walking softly across the bedroom. "Ro?" He yawned again, stretching his arms above his head with a small click. He walked self consciously to the wardrobe, glancing at where he had once had to sleep so long ago. Virgil noticed the ladder to the upper level of the closet pulled down and he padded over, climbing it sleepily. "Roman?" He asked again when he caught sight of the painting.

Philip sat there proudly, young while still old. He had a golden crown on his head and a young Roman in his lap. Virgil knew exactly where Roman would be.

Virgil hurried out of the Kings' room, walking down the corridors past maids and servants dressed in black. He strolled worriedly down hallways until he reached the room of the old, deceased King. He knocked fearfully on the door.

"Roman?" He asked, not risking going in without permission. He heard nothing but a singular sob. Quietly, he pushed open the door, shaking his head at a maid who looked prepared to offer assistance. Closing the door, Virgil rushed to his boyfriends' side, taking a hold of the others' shoulders. "Ro, it's okay-"

"It isn't..." Whispered Roman. "I hardly gave him a thought when we got back here... I only thought of you and myself a-and I acted on th-those thoughts-" Virgil forced his cheeks to remain the same colour, knowing now was not the time to remember that night. "-And I disrespected my father by being so selfish with you!"

Virgil felt a single tear run down his cheek. He never knew Philip but he loved Roman and he couldn't bear to watch him suffer. "Roman, you hadn't seen me in four years, your r-reaction to me here was normal. You'd naturally have expected your father to be here, that's often what I still expect from my mother when I return home and she's been dead for eight years." He cupped his lovers' cheek, tilting Romans' head up to me. "I hate to see you cry, Roman. You are too beautiful for it, both inside and out." 

Roman leaned his face into Virgils' hand, not willing to meet the princes' eyes. "I... We still shouldn't have-"

"Roman, don't you dare blame yourself for what we did!" Virgil lectured, trying to keep his guilt away from his voice. He partly believed it was his fault and that he should've tried to stop Roman that night but he knew that he had wanted it just as much. "It was our fault equally," He promised, "I never want to hear you blame yourself over this again!"

The King leaned up, connecting their lips softly but with no passion. There wasn't any desire or lust in their kiss, just a need for comfort. Roman broke away, eyes still unwilling to meet Virgils'. "I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Don't be..." Virgil replied, pulling Roman close to him. "You couldn't have done anything to stop this."

"I'm not strong enough to do this, Virgil..." Mumbled Roman tearfully.

"You will always be strong enough." Replied Virgil.