heirloom.
It is a marvel to gaze upon their land, as it is nothing he’s ever seen. Since the last quarter, the gnarled vines and rough edges of the landscape have faded, and clean, soft grass reaches on for miles at the very edge of the plain’s horizon. The very Hollow where they fought unearths ground flat and structurally sound for building, and formally, the East and West unite on the spot where they were divided.
Rupert looks up from the expanse as footsteps draw near. He is familiar with that steady tread, and looks up to meet a warm gaze.
“Rupert,” Amir speaks, and his voice is honeyed and thick, like coming home, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Rupert’s eyebrows rise, looking around as if to say, well, here I am. Grins. “I don’t think you’ve been searching hard enough. I was only ever in my room.”
With no one around to judge and free from carrying the burden of saving the country from turmoil, Amir is surprisingly playful. His hips shove Rupert’s side, like he is eight rather than eighteen, shoulders firm against his side, “like you’re one to talk when you keep on losing your way around our Castle. I’ve found you in stranger places.”
Rupert flushes at the reminder, “oh come on. Were you looking for me with a purpose in mind, or merely looking to make a fool out of me?”
Amir softens, a hand drifting to his chest front where an inconspicuous satchel lies, fishing out a leather box with the engravings of his family crest. The content is unmistakable.
“Now?!” Rupert all but squeaks. He feels self-conscious and grubby in his casual tunic.
Amir bites his lips to contain himself, but dark eyes betray his eagerness, “I just wanted to show you. I know that our families would throw a fit about my lack of propriety, but I... wanted you to see the ring first. It’s the heirloom ring from my mother’s side.”
It’s rare for Amir to evade formalities; it makes Rupert want to indulge him.
Rupert reaches out for the box as a response, plucking the box from him with hesitant fingers.
Sitting between two clefts of downy material are a pair of engraved rings, a shiny gold coat upon the delicate metalwork that enhances its slim curvature. Not at all fancy, but expensive in its craft. He has an urge to ease the ring from its resting place and put it on, feel the weight of it on his finger. Though, he knows that there is a time and place for everything, quells the urge.
Looking up at Amir, Rupert waits expectantly for his comment, to fill the silence with facts and the details of its forge. Instead, he voices, abashed almost, “do you like it?”
“Yes...yes of course,” he takes Amir’s hand, strokes his thumb at the back of his hand, overwhelmed by the undeniable proof of their upcoming union, “they’re beautiful.”
Amir smiles, the whites of his teeth flashing in a wide, unbridled grin.
Rupert is so gone on this man, steps forward like fish on a lure into the net of Amir’s arms. Sighing into the crook of his neck, he settles at ease, at home. If he revels at the elicited shiver by the brush of lips at Amir’s nape, it is a voiceless and private thing.