Truth be told, even someone like Richard the Lionheart gets nervous at times like these. There’s something about the locale, and the holidays, and the fact he was loved and cherished that influenced his heart to beat and beat faster and faster and he had to go and breathe all that air out. Compared to the prior year, his gift is much more humble. Something small, and unique, and the king is gentle when he wraps the necklace around Robin’s neck. The real gift lies right at the end of it, a special ring crafted for them. It’s embed with magecraft as well, its red glint giving it away.
“Part of me wanted to put it on your finger, and ask your hand in marriage,” Richard snickers, low and personal almost, as if he had just recited a child’s impossible dream. “If it were under other circumstances, maybe I would have. But it’s my fault your old necklace broke, and I wanted to replace it with something new. It didn’t look right, seeing you without it.”
“Oh, it’s no ordinary ring, of course. I don’t really know anything about magecraft, but someone I know was kind enough to help in its making. Well, to put it simply, it’s connected to me. Or my life, I suppose. If I get hurt, you should feel a sting from it. It gets worse the more hurt I am. It’s not limited to physical harm either.” By now, albeit rare, there’s an awkwardness to his words, and his posture. The idea had only come to him because of what had happened just weeks prior. “Oh, and of course, I made myself a matching one. Here.” He closes Robin’s fingers around the ring, left on his palm. “I want you to put it on me. I suppose any finger would do, but… to be fair, I was thinking of wearing it on my ring finger. Not because we are married, but because I want people to look at it and know I have someone I love.”
Ah, there it was. The marriage jokes from a noble who’d surely spent a good chunk of his life being proposed to in a variety of ways despite obligation. Still, there was a warmth to his cheeks that wasn’t born of the cold, and Robin exhaled soft puffs into the cold evening air. He’d almost forgotten about that silly trinket, the one with no interesting story to tell.
“Sure you'd wanna marry a guy like me? I’m not exactly what you’d call marriage material. No land to call my own, no prospective business. Just some sellsword without a real name... and a handsome face, but... ”
A ring that’d alert him to any change, huh? How intimate, and thoughtful, and Robin Hood scrambled for things to say that weren’t just him trying to brush off how much he really appreciated it in all his shyness. How much he wanted to know each and every detail and tuck a ringed finger behind a lock of Richard’s hair.
Augh. He couldn’t tuck that stupid smile of his away. Richard the Lionheart had a real way of sweeping you off your feet in all that steadfast persistence and obsession. Even now, Robin could still understand why another faceless had so readily consented to being part of his spiritual arsenal.
He closed around the ring, and his other around Richard’s hand. “Seriously, you... -- even if my hand ends up all ugly and swollen at some point, you know I’m gonna hold onto this for dear life, right?”
Though a popular spot, Richard had still managed to make a few calls and swing things in their favor in order to snag a decent room at one of the fanciest hotels in Cotes. Robin wasn’t one to linger in this area often, but there was one thing about it he definitely appreciated: the ability to drink while in the open bath. But when it was due time for them to exit he still obliged with a slight hum, one hand holding neatly onto towel and one onto glass.
