#like I’m sorry I’m not a cynic who wants to see a) a Prince assault a woman that probably already lived a bad life

[dulcewrites]

You know I saw so many people saying that either Alys is going to groom Aemond and later send him to his death or he will rape her as war price that I feel disgusted by this fandom. Like, some people don't possess reading comprehension. It was stated clearly that Aemond wanted to fight Daemon from the start and Ewan hinted that Aemond somehow knows how he is going to die and some people still claim that the worst thing that could happen to Aemond is leaving his family to die and then stopping being dutiful. Like, guys, even Starks, honourable as fuck, forget about morals regarding their family members and were willing to not apply some rules to their family when situation was bad and now people act histerical at the thought that Aemond won't be dutiful until the day he die? Like, since when a person stays the same all her life? It's the events that shape people lmao

People are very… weird with Aemond. And in a special kind of way. Like with Alicent, most of the times it’s just typical misogyny and cruelty you unfortunately get in fandoms (and especially with characters like Alicent).

But the way some people treat aemond, mainly show Aemond, is odd. They hate him but also ship with people they like. They hate him but also want him to switch sides. I’m very much of the belief that the wild theories people paint of Aemond (and alys) come from pure jealousy that it is clear the writers are giving show Aemond a strong (lol) and complex arc. It boils their blood. Then you have alys who does not fit what people want from a heroine, let alone heroine with a love story. So they makeup ships not supported by anything in the book or show to essentially push her out.

The whole loyalty dutiful thing will always perplex me bc so called book purist skip over the part when Aemond wants to go back to kl after it falls (doesn’t bc he is advised against it). Or how he is hyper aware of taking out Daemon, even if it means his death, is a huge blow to team black. Same reason why Daemon wants to kill Aemond.

At the end of the day, alys will be in the show and if she characterized anything like that audition leak we got, #those people will just have to die made about it 🤷🏽‍���️

[villainousshakespeare]

A Forest Interlude Chapter 24 - The Missing Bride

Summary: Eleonore (OFC) discovers a wounded man in the woods near her home and seeks to heal him. Little does she know that it is none other than the heir to the throne, Prince Hal of England.

Chapter: 24 of 28

Rated E

Warnings: smut, sex fluff, angst, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs

(spoiler - don’t worry, it will all work out okay in the end)

In this chapter:   Hal confronts his past behavior with Poins, and discovers the abduction of his darling wife.

Read the entire story on AO3

@nrthmnsplbnd09 ;  @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty@just-the-hiddles @from-hel-i-with-love  livviedoo@hopelessromanticspoonie @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen@dangertoozmanykids101 @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @shiningloki@hiddlesholic @isitmadnessrpg​

If he clenched his jaw any harder Hal was convinced all of his teeth would break. This was not at all how he had anticipated the afternoon proceeding. The warm bath that he had so looked forward to sharing with his eager wife was bordering on cold, and instead of her soft moans his ears were being assaulted with a steady string of mindless prattle from Ned Poins.

Ned, who was by some reckoning his closest companion. Who definitely was the his most frequent co-conspirator and partner in crime. How that had come to be the case, Hal was having a difficult time remembering now, for he found the steady stream of malicious gossip and cruel innuendo falling from the other man's lips grating to him. A month or two ago Hal would have been laughing at his latest conquest of some poor, unsuspecting baker's wife. Ned had managed to convince the woman that he wanted to run away with her in order to bed her, only to deny any such plans when her husband caught them, mid tryst. Now, Hal merely felt sorry for the poor woman. Her life had been ruined simply because she had a nice pair of breasts that had managed to catch the wandering eye of a bored noble.

A blessed silence stretched as Hal quickly washed himself, regretting it was not Nell's hands wandering over his body, all soapy and searching. He gave a soft sigh at the thought, his cock half heartedly twitching, and was met with a snort of derision. Looking up, he saw Ned was staring at him with shuttered, cynical eyes.

"I'll give you this, your wife's a pretty piece," Poins said, a twist of his lips substituting for a smile, "though not, for me, enough to risk a ring. Was wedding her in truth the only way that she would open up her legs to you? If so, I hope the prize was worth the price, for to my mind she's a controlling wench."

"I'll tell you once the same I told the king," Hal said, rising from the tub, naked and dripping, and crossing to tower over his friend in anger, "I will not hear a word against her Ned. Nell is my wife, and I do love her well. You would be wise to bear that thought in mind, or this my first will see to it you learn."

"A thousand pardons Hal, I meant no harm!" Ned replied quickly, raising both hands in defense and stepping back. "I see you are much taken with her now. Though I profess to hear you speak of love, and have the words be so sincerely meant, doth hardly reconcile with my old friend."

"I do suppose you have some cause in that," Hal was forced to admit, as he snatched up a bath sheet and began toweling himself dry. "When I think now of what my life hath been, and how I so mistreated the fair sex, I do begin to almost hate myself."

"Mistreat them? Hal, I hardly would say that!" Ned laughed. "For I was near at hand as oft as not, and from the sounds you brought forth out of them, those ladies that you tumbled for a night had nothing to complain of in your bed!"

Hal cursed himself for thinking that Ned would understand what he was saying. He did not mean that he had hurt the women, heaven forbid! Nor even that he had not done his best to make sure that they came away from the encounter thoroughly satisfied. It was just that he had never given a one of them any thought once the random coupling had ended. He had never wondered if they pined for him, or if he was getting in the way of a relationship that might bring them more joy in the long term. Short of doing his best to ensure that their were no royal bastards to follow him about, he had taken his pleasure without any further worry.

"I hope that you are right, but who can say?" was all he answered now, knowing it was useless to share his thoughts with the other.

"Well, I am going now to Jocelyn's," Ned said, laying back on Hal's bed with a groan. "Her babe at last is weaned, so now's my chance. Perhaps I'll ask her for you, if you like, if she did feel disgraced by your hand."

Apparently Ned thought this a capital joke from the way he laughed. Hal managed a grimace that passed for a smile and began dressing absentmindedly. Jocelyn was a lusty woman, and ran a thriving brothel. She was not the type that Hal had been worrying over hurting. All the same, he wished Ned would show her some respect.

"No doubt you will have other things to say," Hal suggested with a raised eyebrow, "and will not need to fall back on my name."

"Oh I do not plan to say much at all! My mouth shall be much happier employed. But come, shall you go with me good sweet prince? I hear she has a new girl in her house, a redhead with an ardency to match. I'm sure the girl would count it quite a coup if she could snare a prince into her bed."

"I have no need for whores, I thank you Ned. I am, if you recall, a man now wed."

"Well yes, I know that you did take a wife," Ned looked at him in almost comical alarm, "but surely that need not affect you much. Nell need not know whereto we two are bound, tis not like she will hear it from your whore! And I should think she may think it relief that she must not see to your needs today."

"You do not mark me, so I'll say it plain. There will from now be no more whores for me. I fear you must seek for another man to bear you company in your pursuits."

"But Hal, you must be playing at some jest - you surely do not mean you plan to be a faithful husband to your loving wife?"

"Yet that is just exactly what I mean," he nodded. "Now that the gods have granted me my heart, I would not put such happiness at risk by wasting of my time with random whores or ladies who would cast themselves at me. I want but one fair damsel in my bed, and much to my eternal wonderment, that woman is none other than my wife."

Ned stared at him in stunned disbelief. Hal knew that he deserved no less, and once more felt his shame rise. He could not truly fault Poins. Even discounting Hal's reputation as a rake, very few men of his rank were completely faithful to their wives. He supposed it came with the territory when most marriages were arranged more for money and alliances than for affection. He was a man most blessed that his life's companion was the owner of his very soul.

"My lord, my lord! I must see you at once!" Cecil demanded, barging into the room in a most undignified fashion quite at odds with his usual reserved bearing.

"What is it man? Here, sit and catch you breath," he instructed as his man doubled over and wheezed.

"There is no time, her Highness, Princess Nell..." Cecil gasped out, causing Hal's heart to stop beating.

"What Nell? Why what is wrong? Sir, speak to me!" he demanded, fear like a cold finger on his spine. "Is it the babe? Has she come to some harm?"

"No, no my prince, tis not as bad as that," Cecil hastened to assure him. "A troop of guard appeared here at our gate, and did insist that she should go with them!"

"What, take her from her home? I'll kill them all! Where were our own men that they stopped them not?"

"Your grace, she went with them of her own will, for they were dressed in colors of the king, and his own sigil did bedeck their breasts! Only the gateman knew what did occur until she had acceded to their will. Poor lad, he is beside himself in fear that he did put her life somehow at risk."

Hal began littering the air with every curse he knew. There had been no direct word from his father since their frightful encounter on his wedding day, and the lack of condemnation had lulled him into a false sense of security. It had never occurred to him that Henry would do something so extreme as to send armed guards to abduct Nell from their home! What could he possibly hope to gain by doing any such thing?

"Have Strumpet saddled for me straight away," he commanded Cecil, pulling his boots on as he spoke. "I ride at once to see our revered king. I hope he has some reason for this act, as patricide is still a grievous sin. But if he has caused any harm to her, I will not answer for my own reply."

"Your horse is waiting for you in the yard. It was not hard to think what you would do."

"I thank you, Cecil. Ned, I bid you well. You must excuse me, for I now depart."

"I would not think to keep you from your bride," Ned said with an odd voice Hal could not quite place, but thought might contain humor. He supposed seeing him cast as the avenging husband might seem humorous to someone else. To himself it was deadly serious.

Cecil was as good as his word, and Hal's favorite horse was saddled and waiting for him. It took him very little time to ride to the palace. Even were he not known on sight through most of London, one look at his furious face was enough to clear all out of his path. When he arrived at the castle, he threw his reins to a random groom and stormed inside, beating a path for the presence chamber. Not waiting to be announced, he thrust open the doors and barged inside.

"Where is she sir, for I will have her back!" he hurled the words at the old man sitting on the throne like a spear.

Henry, who until that moment had been in deep conversation with his master of coin, started in his seat as though a dragon had burst into his throne room, and indeed Hal looked like one. When he realized the accosting person was in fact his eldest son, his face turned red and his eyes lit with rage. Still, his voice was clam and cutting as he addressed Hal.

"You should be whipped for lack of manners, boy. Do you not know to whom it is you speak? How dare you come before us in such state, and so abuse our royal presence thus?"

"Forgive me if I do not curtsey, sir," Hal sneered, as the gathered court looked on in shock. "Perhaps if you had not kidnapped my wife I might have time for courtliness and grace."

"Has all the sac you drink gone to your brain?" his father demanded, glaring at him. "Why, tell me boy, would I abduct your wife?"

"Why that you must tell me, for I know not!"

"And do you see her here, you foolish sot? I have not set my eyes upon the girl since I did see you both the day you wed."

"Is this the truth? You did not send for her?"

"I have no need to lie to you, you wretch! In truth I have done all that I could do to put the two of you far from my mind!"

"Then this is even worse than I did fear!"

Hal was completely lost now. When he thought that his father had taken Nell, he had feared for their future, but never for her physical safety. Say what you would about Henry, and Hal had, but he was not a threat to women. The worst he had imagined was that his father intended to ship her off to a convent and dissolve their union. If it was someone else... the possibilities were as dark as they were endless.

"What put it in your head that I had her?" Henry's voice sounded begrudgingly concerned.

"The gateman said that guards did come for her, dressed in the livery of your own house."

"Flat lies, and that you can see for yourself! Why, you have known Renaldo all your life and here he stands as he has done all day. If I had sent my men on such a task as would require discretion in to be done, as to abduct my son's wife from their home, think you I would entrust it not to him?"

Hal had to admit his father had a point. Renaldo had been with them since Hal was a boy, as faithful to Henry as he was circumspect. His father was far too fussy to allow such an act as Hal was accusing him of to be done in a way to cause talk among the public. If he had sent for Nell, it would have been Renaldo that retrieved her.

Hal's mind spun. It made no sense. Who would want to take Nell? Could it be Northumberland, angry at the cancelled wedding? Or perhaps the Earl of Kent who he had provoked at the market? He could not think clearly, not when the dearest person on the globe was in such peril.

"But said your man that they were dressed as us?" Renaldo asked now, voice sounding almost concerned as he looked at Hal with searching eyes. "What men would have free access to our garb? My men are quartered close unto the king, and only one admitted to those rooms could hope to take one jerkin, far less six"

Six. They had been dressed in uniforms of Henry's household. And their had been six of them. Slowly, Hal lowered his head into his hands and laughed an almost unhinged laugh.

"I am as foolish, Sire, as you think," he said, shaking his head. "I pray you all, forget this freakish start. I did not mean to so disrupt your day. I'll leave you now and cause no more discord."

"I am, I think, an explanation owed," Henry said in a wry voice. "You do, I take it, know who has your wife?"

"I do believe I do, and if I'm right, they shall regret the day they hatched their plan."

"Renaldo then shall go along with you," Henry surprised Hal by saying. "She is, for now, a member of my house, and as such we cannot allow insult. When you have her extracted from this mess, I will expect you all to return here. I have some words which I would say to thee."

Hal did not miss the formal tone on the end of his father's decree, but for now he had more important matters to attend to. The pieces had fallen into place, and he was reasonably certain that he knew just where he would find Nell. Heaven help the men when he got there.

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Seven

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 2448

Chapter Warnings: Nightmares, parent death mention, dysphoria and coming out mention

Over the next couple of days, between tending to customers, cleaning tables, baking treats, and snuggling his husband, Patton spent his time pretty much glued to Roman’s side. The two of them talked for hours about movies and jokes and cartoons. The child’s laughter and delighted surprise every time Patton whipped out a pun or a reference warmed his heart.

It was a late Thursday night when Patton was startled awake by Roman shrieking. He fumbled for his glasses as Virgil stirred beside him. “Shh, it’s okay, I got it,” He whispered, awkwardly patting Virgil’s shoulder.

“Mm... call me ‘f you need me,” Virgil mumbled, his voice rough and sleepy.

Patton’s heart swelled with love for the protective, caring gleam in his husband’s half-closed eyes. He kissed him on the cheek before stumbling out of bed, then made his way down the hallway towards the guest room where Roman was staying. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s me,” He called softly as he nudged the door open. 

It took a moment of bleary eyed blinking for him to realise that Roman was not, in fact, in bed. The covers had been flung off, left in a chaotic tangle that hung off the side of the bed. 

“... Ro? Where are you, hon?” He asked softly, running his gaze over the room.

“Closet,” A muffled voice responded nervously.

Patton made his way over to the closet set into the wall of the bedroom across from the door and bobbed down in front of it. “Can I open the door?” He asked.

The sliding door slowly slipped across with a faint squeak, revealing a pale and shaky looking Roman curled up in the corner. “... Hi,” He said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Patton soothed. “What’s wrong?”

Roman hesitated, then scooched to the side, making room in the small space underneath the coats hanging above him. Patton took the invitation and crawled in, his legs curled awkwardly under him, and opened his arms. Roman cuddled up to him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing against him as Patton started to gently run his fingers through his hair.

“I had a bad dream,” He whispered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Patton pressed his face into the boy’s hair, his arms wrapped gently around him.

Roman nodded, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “I, um... I was with my parents. And they were yelling. There were other people there, some of their friends, I think. They were all yelling at each other. And I was standing behind them all, and I couldn’t breathe, and they were all so angry, and I started crying, and Dad yelled at me to shut up, and... and-”

He burst into tears, and Patton’s heart throbbed. “Oh, Roman, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let it all out, honey, you’re safe. I promise, everything’s okay.” He murmured, rubbing Roman’s back as he cried, his small body jerking violently with each sob.

Every fibre of his being ached for Roman, every jolt of his shoulders sending another sharp needle lancing through Patton’s heart. There had to be some way to help him, better than sending him home or abandoning him to the cold chaos of the foster care system. They had to find some way to keep him safe and happy and warm and-

He cut off his own train of thought with a deep breath. No use getting worked up, he scolded himself gently. That isn’t going to help anybody. So he sat there, his hands lightly tracing shapes over Roman’s back, peppering kisses into his hair as Roman cried and clung to him.

Eventually, gradually, Roman began to quiet. His sobs ebbed into sniffles, and the shuddering of his shoulders faded into a slight tremble. Patton didn’t move, not yet. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Roman before he was ready. He clearly needed hugs, needed love, needed kisses and toys and warm food and stories and songs.

Roman shuffled, and he loosened his grip so that he could move back a little. It was hard to see in the dark of the closet, surrounded by jackets and scarves, but Patton could still see his face, red and streaked with tears. “Thank you,” He whispered.

“Anytime, Ro. Really,” Patton promised, brushing back his fringe and leaning forward to kiss his forehead again. “Would you like to sleep in our bed tonight?”

Roman brightened, and Patton’s heart fluttered happily at the faint smile on his face. “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?” He tilted his head to the side, his grip on Patton’s pyjama shirt tightening.

“Of course!” Patton chuckled. “Come on, my legs are gonna fall asleep if we stay squeezed up in here, cozy as it is.”

Roman scampered over his lap, popping out of the closet with a giggle. “That’s just ‘cause you got old man legs!” He teased as he poked his tongue out at Patton.

Patton gasped in mock offense, placing a hand against his chest as he crawled out of the closet. “Hey, well these ‘old man legs’ can still catch little princes!” He growled playfully, advancing on Roman, who shrieked in delight and dodged to the side.

“No way! You can’t get me!” He declared, vaulting onto the bed and bouncing up and down on it. 

“Oh, really?” Patton winked before pouncing, scooping Roman out of the air mid-bounce and attacking his belly and sides with probing fingers. Roman squealed, twisting and wriggling in his arms to try and get away from the assault of tickles. “Nobody escapes the tickle monster!” Patton exclaimed with a grin.

He shifted Roman so that he was held over his shoulder, the pair of them still giggling as he carried him out to the hallway, almost bumping into a very sleepy Virgil who was making his way towards them, his hand pressed to the wall to find his way in the dark.

“... Heard yellin’,” Virgil yawned and leaned against the wall, scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Tickle fight,” Roman informed him solemnly, twisting to meet his eyes over Patton's head.

Virgil took a moment to process, then nodded. “I see. Serious business then, eh?” He nudged Roman, who burst into another fit of giggles. He glanced to Patton while Roman was distracted, a clear inquiry for an explanation.

Patton shook his head and mouthed, ‘Bad dream’. 

Virgil nodded again, then paused, looking between Roman’s doorway and the doorway to their room. ‘Our bed?’ He mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

Patton flashed a sweet smile, hoping it would be enough to win him over. ‘Just tonight?’

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly and jerked his head towards their room. “Alright, kid, if you’re coming, let’s go. You might have the luxury of being carried, but these floorboards are colder than a midsummer Arendelle."

Roman snorted. "Yeah, right, Grim Burton." He wriggled out of Patton's grasp, landing on the floorboards with a gasp. He immediately clung to Virgil, and scrambled to climb up him. "Ohmygoshthat'sabsolutelyfreezing!" He whined.

Virgil rolled his eyes, easily plucking Roman off the ground and swinging him around so he clung to his back like a baby koala. Patton giggled at the sight, clasping his hands together in delight. “Come on, then, Sleepless Beauty, let’s get back to bed before you get any more hyped up.” With that, Virgil turned on his heel and carried Roman back into the cozy warmth of his and Patton’s bedroom.

Patton smiled dreamily after them for a moment before he followed. There was something so sweet about seeing the two of them together, teasing and playing and cuddling. It warmed him to his core, sent tickly tingles of happiness from his toes right to the tips of his hair. The urge to bake rocketed through him, but he settled for waving his hands in front of him in excitement, giggling quietly for a few seconds. 

He was worried that the sudden flurry of movement would disturb the other two, but when he peered through the half-open door of the bedroom, Virgil was already sprawled across the bed in his usual gangly fashion, his long limbs sticking out at odd angles. Roman had burrowed into the blankets and was curled up in a ball with his back against Virgil’s side. He reminded Patton suddenly of a kitten.

He hung back in the doorway, watching the pair of them. Virgil reached over to rest a hand on Roman’s back, mumbling something which made the boy laugh again, a sweet, soft laugh like tinkling bells. Patton’s stomach fluttered pleasantly at the sound, like he’d swallowed stardust that danced and twirled and twinkled inside him, and that took him a little by surprise. He’d had that feeling exactly three times in his life. 

The first he could remember was when he was quite small, feeling his father’s large, strong hands throwing him up into the air. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture the layout of their backyard, strewn with toys and gardening tools. In those moments, he’d felt like Daddy was teaching him to fly, like if he learned the secret to hang in the air just a half-second longer then the two of them could soar up into the endless sky for forever. (‘Like birds, Daddy!’) Patton had, of course, always come back down, into his father’s arms, the two of them laughing and clinging tightly to each other, their cheeks pressed together, until Mom called them inside for dinner, and Patton loved him so much he felt that his heart would burst.

The second was after his mother died. It was a painful time for the whole family. His father had been away on a business trip, and Patton was staying with his grandmother. He could only recall vague, painful snatches from the day. Daddy had appeared on the doorstep, his coat already half-off his shoulders, his face red and cracked and painful, and swept him up into a tight hug, so tight he could hardly breathe. (‘I love you so much, Pippa.’) He remembered sitting on the living room floor, his legs splayed on either side of the dollhouse he had in front of him, and his grandmother being too distracted with whatever it was Daddy was explaining to her in a low voice to tell him off for sitting in such an unladylike way. 

He’d stayed with Abuelita that night, and the next, and the night after that, and every night Daddy promised that he’d pick him up before long. (‘I just need to sort out a few more things, princess. I’ll see you soon.’) Eventually Daddy stopped calling. Patton understood. Talking was painful, both of them always holding their breath and waiting for that third musical voice to join their conversations. For a long time, Patton hated Abuelita’s house, hated the lace and the dainty trinkets and the biting lemon air freshener, hated eating the food that wasn’t his Mom’s, hated Abuelita. He came home from school one day, just a few months later, to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, tears rolling down her face, a scrapbook from Mom’s quinceañera sitting open on the table, they hadn’t spoken. He’d slid into the chair next to her, and the two of them had held each other as they cried. The next morning he’d woken up to find Abuelita with a brand new recipe book, flicking through the pages to make something for breakfast. (‘We’ll make new foods, chiquita. New foods and new memories.’)

The third was when he came out. It was just after his 14th birthday, and Abuelita was already loudly planning his own quinceañera. Everything about it just... rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t sure if it was the whole coming-of-age thing, the cost, or... something else. Something he was pretty sure he knew, but didn’t want to think about. He’d been over at Virgil’s house, pacing back and forth, his hands tightening into fists, clutching the powder blue skirt swishing around his knees. Virgil lay on his bed, his legs up against the wall and his head hanging upside-down off the edge of the bed, watching his best friend rant. He’d let Patton go on for a few minutes, his face gradually darkening into a concerned frown, before interrupting and asking the question that had brought what Patton thought he knew about himself crashing down. (‘Pip, you love cheesy parties and fancy outfits and sappy customs... so why are you really against this?’) 

Virgil had stuck right by his side as they poured over internet articles and forums, as they watched movies and shows and read books, as they flicked through books of names and their meanings. He’d held Patton’s hand in a comfortingly tight grip as he explained to Abuelita, in a voice thick with tears and anxiety, that he wasn’t a girl. That he wanted to be called by a different name, to cut his hair and get chunkier glasses that didn’t make his face look so round and soft. That he didn’t want a quinces, or dresses, or makeup. Abuelita had gazed at him silently for a long, tense second, and then requested to speak with him alone. Virgil had bitten back, refusing, but Patton squeezed his hand and nodded, and Virgil had, after a moment, stepped back, the protective flame within him down but still smouldering.

Once he was out of the room, Abuelita had gotten up from her chair in the kitchen, gathered him into her arms, and kissed the top of his hair. She had cooed softly in Spanish as Patton trembled in her arms, tears spilling over to drip down his cheeks. (‘Oh, darling, I love you. Chiquita, I-’ She paused. ‘Chiquito, I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you and love you, for always.’) They’d called Virgil in, both of them crying and smiling, and he’d immediately wrapped his arms around Patton in a tight hug. Patton had blubbered near-incoherent words of gratitude into his shoulder, and Virgil had rubbed his back and whispered comfortingly. (‘Anytime, Pat. I got your back, always. Promise.’)

Looking in from the doorway, it dawned on Patton exactly what it was Roman needed. Hugs and food, sure, but what he really needed was family. He needed that love. That safety and security that no matter how high he flew, how much he hurt, how scary something seemed, someone would be there to hold him and be by his side. And in that moment, Patton made up his mind. 

Come hell or high water, he would be that person.