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Chapter is up on AO3!! Sorry for the lateness jfsdklfjds

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (11/19)

Chapter 11 - The Calling of a Hundred Thousand Voices

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Warnings: alcohol/tipsy characters.

Word Count: 4482

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That morning, the woods had a crisp, spring breeze flowing through them. Roman honestly wasn’t sure what they were doing out here today. His schedule was clear, Virgil had asked - and who was Roman to deny Virgil anything he could give him, really?

Virgil had seated himself on a moss covered rock near enough to the river -still running rapidly with snowmelt - that river spray clung to his clothes and dripped occasionally down his armour. He placed his sword down on the ground and removed his gloves, reaching for a flowering plant to his left that had pink blossoms, collecting up a fair number of them before moving on to another plant - this one with slightly larger white flowers. They were plants native to this area, but Roman wouldn’t have been able to name them if you held him at swordpoint.

Whilst Virgil worked, Roman simply sat back on a blanket he had brought with him, watching him fondly and basking in the warm spring breeze. A nice change from the constant snowfall they had been suffering through winter, at least.

Content enough to close his eyes, basking in the scent of spring flowers and the gentle breeze, Roman hadn’t ended up seeing what Virgil was really doing with the flowers until he felt Virgil carefully remove the golden jewel encrusted crown frown his head, smoothing down his hair quickly before replacing it with something else.

“A… crown of flowers?” Roman asked, reaching up to brush his fingers over the petals of the flowers now adorning his hair.

“Mhm,” Virgil nodded. “It’s… oh, probably stupid to you, really.”

“I don’t believe so,” Roman said, still carefully touching the flowers that Virigl had twined together ever so delicately, Roman didn’t even know you could do such a thing. “What is it?”

“It’s um - a tradition, at the beginning of spring, to put flowers in your hair - and this is a flower crown, I thought it was fitting,” Virgil said, and was he… blushing? “Because you’re- a prince, and all.”

“I see…” Roman said softly, he had never even heard of it - as a tradition that is, “What else do you do?”

“Well… I like to braid flowers into my hair - some people tie them with ribbons -”

“No no- I mean- that’s lovely - but I was asking what other traditions are there?” He rephrased his question, looking up at Virgil with a small, hopeful smile.

“Oh… well - there's all sorts, really - mostly in spring we celebrate new beginnings, it’s… kind of a congratulations party for surviving the winter - at the same time a commemoration for those who didn’t…” Virgil said. “There’s a feast - all spring forage and sweet wine aged over winter, all sorts, usually we dance. It’s like… welcoming the sun back after the darkness and peril of winter, and stuff like that…”

Roman could tell that Virgil was embarrassed, any idiot probably could by the flush on his cheeks and slight downturn of his head - where his face was inclined slightly away from him. Roman, however, had no idea why Virgil might feel that way - he was fascinated by all of this.

“Is it like a gala?” He asked, tilting his head, Virgil made a face.

“It’s a big party, I suppose, but it’s nothing like that horrible spring party your parents threw.” Virgil said, shaking his head. “It’s so much more fun, it’s freeing - warm and bright, people are friendly, no-one wants to talk about politics or seek your hand in marriage-”

Roman shivered at the mention of that, but quickly brightened again moments later. “That sounds absolutely spectacular, Virgil.” He gushed. “Oh what I would give to experience a proper party like that, I just… wow!”

For a long few minutes, Virgil was quiet. He was thinking, Roman could tell from the look on his face, but he didn’t mind - he let him think, knowing he would have said something if Roman had upset him.

“Would you like to?” Virgil asked, tilting his head.

“What?” Roman asked right back, blinking with a confused expression clear on his face.

“Would you like to go to a festival?”

“I… yes? Didn’t I just-”

“No, no I mean, If I said we should go, right now, would you want to?”

Blinking, Roman looked up at him - was Virgil really suggesting…? “Yes - I mean, absolutely, I would - I would love to do something like that, Virgil - I mean… could we?”

“I mean…” Virgil sighed, “I haven't exactly left the castle since my birthday back in November and that makes it feel like I’ve been here for an age. I can’t even fathom what it must be like for you so - yeah, I’ll sneak you out and we can go to the festival - it’ll be fun anyway.”

“We’ll have to go at night, after dinner.” Roman said - he couldn’t have his parents getting suspicious and looking for him if he didn’t show up to dinner. They would have to leave after that. “Will there still be things happening?”

“Oh yeah definitely - it’ll be best if we go before sunset, but honestly it’s better at night.”

“Really?”

“Mhm - that’s when they have all the bonfires lit and the real dancing starts - and everyone is just having fun and being silly. Trust me it’ll be great.”

“So… do we - do we need a plan?”

“We’ll need… some sort of disguise for you. So that people don’t recognise you.” Virgil said, leaning back thoughtfully. “The flower crown and some peasants clothes should be good enough. I’m sure I can find you something today if you give me an hour or so . You’ll want a veil to cover your hair actually - hm- we can probably buy one on the way.”

Leaving Virgil to his speculating - Roman was sure he’d be briefed on the plan later - Roman took the flower crown gently from his head so that he could lay down in the grass without crushing the delicate blooms. Listening to Virgil talk without really focusing on the words was relaxing, it almost made Roman want to fall asleep.

“-through the catacombs- Princey are you listening to me?” Virgil cut off his own sentence to ask. Roman peeked one eye open to look up at him.

“Not… really,” Roman admitted, looking up at Virgil with a smile - it might always amaze him just how comfortable he felt around Virgil - two months ago he’d be terrified to admit something like that.

“I said we could get out through the catacombs, there was that secret tunnel out, right?”

“Yeah I think so,” Roman said, a small smile on his face - that was the perfect way out.

“In that case….. We can do that, can't we?” Virgil shot Roman a smile that made his cheeks heat - the irrational part of him that he tried so hard to quell bubbled up once again and urged him to sit up, to cup Virgil's cheek with his gloveless hands and pull him close - pressing his own lips to those smiling ones-

“Princey?” Virgil kicked him in the thigh. It was a gentle kick, nothing painful, but still enough to pull him sharply from his train of thought - which might honestly have been a good thing, he couldn’t act on any of that - thinking about it only ever made it worse.

“Sorry,” Roman said automatically.

“Don’t be sorry, are you okay?”

“Of course, why?”

“You zoned out like - bad - just staring at me just then…” Virgil pointed out. “And now you look all upset.”

“Oh…” Roman said softly, cursing himself internally for making it that obvious. “I swear I’m fine, don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

“...Okay, if you’re sure,” Virgil said, still frowning. Roman wished his rare, beautiful smile would come back. “You can always talk to me though, alright?”

“Mhm,” Roman nodded, “I know… thank you, Virgil, for everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

—-

The pair barreled through the catacombs, Roman’s bare hand clasped in Virgil’s. They both dressed in peasant’s clothes. Virgil had leant him one of his spare cloaks - one that had embroidery in red thread around the edges in a pattern that resembled some kind of bird. Roman liked it - he had stood in his room, swishing it around his ankles, while Virgil said that the red suited him - it really brought out the amber of his eyes.

The catacombs were just as damp and dingy as they were the first time they had come here. It wasn't something that Roman felt the need to pay attention to though as they hurried out towards the little cave entrance where the canal running along the main tunnel of the catacombs let out into the river - just outside of the wall.

Virgil had noted it down on what looked like a map - which they followed now in order to make their way out. A little short of breath, Virgil led the way down the dark, narrow tunnel before Roman was helped down a narrow flight of steep, crumbling stone steps. Roman thought this would be something Remus might have enjoyed if they had found it before…

His thoughts were interrupted by Virgil once more, insistently telling him that they had to make a move if they wanted to get down the hill before sunset. Quickly following behind him, Roman nodded. Although currently, their surroundings were just forest, Roman knew that all of this was new. He had explored practically every inch of the forest back on the palace grounds when he had been younger and just as constantly bored as he was now. But this? This was all new, these trees, those rocks, he had never seen any of them before. Maybe that was sad - Virgil certainly seemed to think so, as he let Roman stop to admire things - but it was true.

Roman almost whooped for joy when they came across the first building on their path. It was barely even anything important. A simple rest stop for nobles to stop and freshen up before approaching the palace. They didn’t go in, but Roman’s wide-eyed stare had made Virgil laugh though the explanation of the building’s purpose had made him frown.

As they got closer to the village, that frown had abated more and more. Roman looked around in awe. Everything was so different out here. The buildings were built almost haphazardly, their placement a little sporadic as Virgil led him through what must be back alleys. He had said they should avoid the main street for now until they could find Roman a scarf. Virgil was already wearing one of his own - a semi-translucent material draped over his hair and pinned in place coloured with a deep blue with detailed with beautiful yellow embroidery on the trim. It fell to his waist. He had told Roman that it was easily the most expensive item he had to his name.

Roman didn’t have one - it had almost made him sad, since Virgil had told him whilst they were getting ready that these scarves were usually custom made. They were supposed to represent and honour a person’s parents, though when the notion had made Roman scrunch his nose, Virgil had told him that it could really honour anyone you cared about, anyone whose lives you respected and loved.

When they had come to a small shop selling such things, Roman had chosen a deep jade green scarf with a paler green embroidery. Virgil hadn’t asked, Roman hadn’t elaborated, though they both knew who Roman was trying to honour.

Led by the hand, Roman and Virgil made their way down cobbled streets towards a distant clamour. Looking around as they hurried, Roman could see all sorts of decorations - flower bouquets mostly, displayed on windowsills and doorsteps. There were stings of colourful flags over the streets and no matter where Roman looked there was always a flower in view, something giving colour and life to the otherwise grey streets and buildings.

Light spilled out from more doorways the closer they got to what must be the main plaza. Roman saw people - children, mostly - running in and out of houses, followed by adults talking happily and sharing food that Roman could only presume they had made. They passed people dressed in vibrant colours and others dressed in dark, mournful garb. Those were the people who had lost family, close friends - loved ones. Virgil had explained that in a hushed tone as they passed a sombre group

There was so much colour, but enough people in black that Roman knew what Virgil had meant when he said winters were hard. It hurt - that everywhere he looked he could see someone who had lost someone, no matter what direction he looked. He couldn’t help the way it made him sad.

“Hey!” Someone called, coming up to them as they finally found their way out of the backstreets. It was a middle aged man carrying a tray of little sugar dusted fried pastries that seemed to contain different kinds of dried fruit with skewers stuck through them. “Tonight’s for celebration, not making each other feel bad, you lovebirds, yeah? Take one, on the house. Hold hands and be happy, why don’t you? It's Spring!”

Hesitantly, and with a flustered expression he was sure, Roman reached over to take one of the skewers and did as the man asked, shifting so that he could hold Virgil’s hand. The man nodded, approving.

“Share those,” He instructed, before wandering off to see his pastries to other passers by. Roman chuckled, offering the top one to Virgil.

“Lovebirds, huh?” Roman chuckled awkwardly, he was certain there was a bright blush on his face.

“Shut up, Princey,” Virgil elbowed his side, though he didn’t untangle their hands or hesitate to take the pastry, Roman simply grinned, glad for that man’s joyful interruption to what had been a sombre conversation. On top of that - Virgil hadn’t seemed… quite as offended… as he might have expected when they were mistaken for a couple.

“Anyway, c’mon, they’ll start the bonfire soon - we don’t wanna miss it.” Virgil said, tugging Roman into a walk via their joined hands as he ate his own pastry from the skewer.

The pastries were amazing. Roman thought as he let himself be half dragged through the crowds of people that grew thicker the closer they got to the centre of the city. He found himself jostled and pushed around without a care, though it didn’t feel bad nor malicious, just crowded and bright. The atmosphere was full of excitement and joy as people walked between stores with their windows wide open and outdoor stalls, he wondered if he could get Virgil to let him have a look around a few of them later.

For now they had arrived in the town square, where atop the raised platform in the centre a massive unlit bonfire was built perfectly of sticks and hay, branches and wool, he could see piles upon piles of firewood nearby - which made sense, Virgil had said this party lasted all night, after all.

“Here!” Virgil called over the noise. They’re closer to the band here, and with their beautiful music and the crowd’s near constant chatter he could hardly hear him. Despite that he still accepted the tankard of frothy liquid that was pressed firmly into his hands. “Drink it!”

Roman eyed it warily, before taking a sip. He almost spat it straight out when he practically inhaled the foam, Virgil laughed loudly, shaking his head and Roman glared, trying again.

The drink wasn’t warm, but it felt like it was burning its way down his throat. It had the same aftertaste as the fancy wines they had up at the castle, but otherwise it was entirely different. This drink was warming, igniting a fuzzy feeling in his lungs. It was heavy on his tongue, almost thick, and incredibly sweet. He was fairly sure he could taste the fruits in it.

He tried another sip and sighed, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders, smiling as he looked back at Virgil. “This is… really good.”

Virgil patted him on his shoulder, “That’s honey-berry mead for you.”

“Mead?”

“Yeah, it’s like honey and fruits and stuff mixed together with yeast - it’s like wine but… a lot nicer,” Virgil shrugged, taking a sip from his own tankard. “You wanna dance when they light it up?”

“I… won’t know the steps?” Roman said, suddenly feeling a nervousness in his gut. Dancing at the Galas was easy, he had every step memorised in his head, every movement perfected through class after class. This would be entirely different from all of that.

“Take another sip of that,” Virgil said, gesturing to the mead, “And it won’t matter, no-one knows the steps, it’s about listening to the music and doing what feels natural, no-one is going to judge you for not knowing the ‘steps’.”

Still hesitant, Roman took another gulp of the mead, it felt almost as though the warm feeling in his chest was battling the anxiety and he reached over and took Virgil’s hand again. Virgil chuckled, taking his cup and handing it off to someone random in the crowd with his own before pulling Roman up the steps to the plaza, where slightly fewer people were already beginning to dance. Roman smiled - he could certainly see a lot more from here where before he could barely see past the crowd. Seeing all the people - all of his people - talking, laughing, being happy together…

This was what he wanted to see, this was what his parents took from them practically every other day of the year and Roman didn’t want to stand for it. Seeing them happy made him feel warmer than the mead could ever, He wished there was something he could do to see that happiness returned to them. He lost the chance to think about that, though, as Virgil pulled him further into the crowd and spun him around. Yelping, Roman clung to his hands, pulling Virgil closer, his guard was grinning.

“Just go with it!” he said as the band started up lively music, music with a soul and brightness to it that Roman had never heard in a ballroom. He knew before they started that this would be nothing like the dance they had shared back at the winter ball. “Relax! Unclench your jaw for five seconds.”

With the vaguely teasing remark came a brilliant smile and Roman felt himself practically melt, his shoulders drooping as he finally relaxed. Virgil nodded his approval and let go of one of Roman’s hands, moving his hand to Roman’s waist in a daring move. One that Roman didn’t shy away from.

“I know you can do it, Roman.” he said, bringing his face close enough that Roamn could hear his whispered words over the cheers and laughter of the crowd around them and the joyful music of the band. Roman thought, for the briefest moment, about leaning just a few inches closer and pressing his lips to Virgil’s pale ones, but moments later Virgil spun him away and pulled him back before letting them spin with the crowd. Roman dismissed it as a fantasy - probably the mead’s doing - and let himself relax into the rhythm of it all. Allowing himself to be pulled by both Virgil and the music, letting his instincts guide him rather than the dance lessons he was so familiar with.

By the time they left the stage, Roman was dizzy and laughing and holding onto Virgil for dear life. Virgil was in the same state, pressing close to him as he led him down the steps, wiping sweat from his forehead and beaming at him. Roman thought he would give just about anything to see that look of pure joy on his face more often.

The night passed in a way that was both so slowly but too quickly. They each got another cup of mead and food. The food was delicious, nothing like he would ever eat up at the palace. It was food you picked at with your fingers, the kind of food that left sauce dripping down Virgil’s chin that Roman ever so carefully wiped away with his thumb, making the other blush. He couldn’t find it in himself to care when Virgil got to return the favour later, when Roman got cream from a cake all across his top lip.

They joined the dancing a second time when a large group lit the centre pyre. Practically everyone at the festival did, dancing around it in what felt more like a ritual, pushing and pulling like a wave - Roman felt like he was part of something, something bigger than him, bigger than his parents, their kingdom. He felt normal, special in the way everyone was special, but completely ordinary. Like he didn’t have to be a prince at all here.

Everything was so bright and happy and warm. Roman couldn’t remember ever being this happy. He laughed, loud, free, and boisterous when Virgil teased him. He giggled as Virgil handed him sugar coated jam filled pastry after another, he linked his arm with Virgil’s when they went stall to stall seeing what was being sold at each one and buying silly little trinkets for each other. Virgil said it was to make sure he didn’t lose him, but Roman felt something in his chest that made him wonder if there was more to it. He spilled his drink and no-one cared. He spoke freely, he laughed, he danced, all with Virgil, he wasn’t scolded once for tripping over his feet or messing up his words because he was talking so quickly with excitement. No-one cared who he was or what he was doing. No-one except Virgil, and Virgil never failed to regard him in a positive light.

They walked back to the plaza, both with more sweets in hand since Roman hadn’t been able to resist another cake. They weren’t going to join back in with the dancing this time. They just wanted to watch. They had both decided they were too tired, and if they spun around much more they might throw up. That hardly deterred Roman from wanting to stay out longer, though. Any time spent with Virgil in such an environment as this would be spent happily.

Two people came thundering past them, a couple, Roman thought, one chasing the other but both of them shrieking with laughter the whole time. The man bumped into Roman, yelling an apology Roman didn’t hear as he ran from his partner. Roman tripped, thrown off balance, and almost fell. He would’ve hit the ground had Virgil not lunged to catch him, strong arms pulling him upright, wrapped tightly around him. Where Roman expected Virgil to pull away he didn’t, instead looking down into his eyes. Roman’s own eyes widened when he saw how fond the expression on Virgil’s face was at that moment. Roman practically melted from the warmth in his gaze.

“Careful,” Virgil said softly, and Roman’s eyes fixed on the way his lips moved to form the word. “You might hurt yourself.”

And those fond words - caring, soft, impossibly warm - made the candle in Roman’s chest spark into a roaring flame, Before the rational part of his brain could even think about catching up to his actions, Roman did something likely incredibly stupid and grabbed the front of Virgil’s tunic, pulling him down to crash their lips together in a kiss.

The whole world could be burning, Roman thought, and he wouldn’t know it at this moment. All he could think of was the softness of Virgil’s lips under his, the audible gasp he had let out as Roman kissed him. His lips tasted like honey and sugar and cranberry jam from the cakes they had been eating, Roman was sure his own tasted like raspberry too. He was acutely aware of the way Virgil’s fingers were splayed on his back, he felt his other hand slide up to cup his neck and Roman shivered, pulling away with his lips parted and eyes wide. Virgil was breathing heavily, his expression a mirror of Roman’s own. He looked shocked, but Roman didn’t have the chance to worry about whether that was a bad thing before Virgil’s lips were on his again, searing hot and blindingly bright in the best way possible.

“You - you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Virgil says when they both pull away, breathless as he pecks Roman’s lips again.

Roman didn’t dare move more than an inch away, his fist still clenched in Virgil’s tunic. Virgil didn’t seem to want to move either.

“You - really?” Roman breathed. “Oh - I’m an idiot,”

“An idiot?” Virgil said fondly, a laugh following shortly after. “If you’re an idiot I don’t know what that makes me. I didn’t even realise I loved you until yesterday. I mean - I’ve - I thought you were attractive the day we met - wanted to kiss you since - god - since you stood up for me, that time - but- but-”

Roman kissed him again, because he thought that if Virgil kept talking his head might explode. Virgil liked him, really liked him - he said he loved him - what did that mean? When Roman loved him too? Maybe now was a better time than any to find out.

“I love you too,” He said, letting go of Virgil just to cup his face. Virgil leant into his hands. “I can't believe - I can’t believe I’m getting to tell you this.”

“Me either - oh Roman-” he says his name so fondly Roman thought he might just dissolve into a puddle right there. He lets out a shrill laugh as Virgil lifts him completely and spins him around, leaving them both leaning on each other for balance. Virgil kissed just below his ear and Roman let out a soft gasp at the tingling spark that shot down his spine. Virgil kept going - littering kisses down Roman’s jaw until he was a puddle of goop in his arms, enough to be lifted, for Virgli to press their foreheads together as he carried him.

—-

The pair could hardly keep their hands - or mouths - off of each other all the way back up to the castle early in the morning. It took every ounce of self restraint the both of them had not to simply lay down in the forests and kiss each other until the sun came up,

They ran through the halls, hand in hand, giggling quietly and snickering, shushing each other with fingers to lips and silent grins as they hid from patrolling guards all the way back to Roman’s room. They collapsed onto Roman’s bed together in each other's arms. Love and passion both shining just as bright as they spent the night together.

Neither of them got a wink of sleep until the sun was already peeking over the horizon.

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