Generation: Decorous
Date: 10. September. 2019
Features: Roman, Virgil
Word Count: 1,451
AU: Human; Kingdom (no set time period)

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Propriety. Propriety is the state that keeps us at a standstill, pushing us to hold to a standard of conformity. At the very least, that is what Roman has come to blame. It took every ounce of restraint within him to keep from cocking a brow or jutting a hip, or just displaying his attitude toward the very situation that was being laid out before him.

There was no way in all things that made up himself he could accept this. "May I inquire why I am being forced to uphold a tradition that you yourself, father, have deemed excessive and annoying?"

A ball- of all things, he was to throw a ball for his upcoming birthday. Balls were becoming dated- antiquated- and he was a prince for the coming generations. How was he supposed to go out, and hold his head high when he was not to attend, but hold the very thing he was never prepared for?

"There is nothing to be worried about-" The words of his father echoed in his head the following day as he stood before the ballroom door, hand reaching out ever so slowly toward the handles, "That is why I have set up an instructor for you."

It took another deep breath before he was pushing open the door, stepping in and pausing when he saw who was on the other side. It was a gentleman of an age around his own, his stature was hunched over what appeared to be a myriad of papers- musical scores, chicken scratch writings, and a depiction of some sort of dance move. The other male was mumbling softly to himself, lost in his own world. Scrunching his nose, Roman glanced around the room, it was just the instructor and the pianist in the room- so who was he to be dancing with?

"Excuse me?" He figured the only way to get answers, was to actually speak to the one in charge of the situation.

The man in black tensed before forcing his shoulders to relax and turning to face Roman, "Oh, yes, is it that time already?" He lightly rambled, a slight attempt at a smile crossing his features, "You must be his highness that required a 'brush up of his skills,' correct?"

"Roman. I am Prince Roman."

"Right, Prince Roman, it is lovely to meet you, but let's get under way. First I need to know what you already have a working knowledge of when it comes to partner dancing." The young man stated calmly, placing what papers were in his hands back down on the small table that he was standing beside. "Mr. Sanders, can you start from the top of the first piece, please?" He gently called over his shoulder to the man at the piano.

Within moments, the piano was emanating a gentle, but upbeat 4/4 piece of music. Roman knew he should probably recognize it, but with his minimal working knowledge of all things dance, he was too busy trying to think of anything that would make it seem like he had attempted dancing before that exact moment.

The downside is, he actually had no working knowledge other than a general idea of how to stand with a dancing partner. Standing with prefect, precise, posture he held his arms up to meet an invisible dance partner- and froze. That was it, that was his knowledge, other than a step forward- but it was pretty clear he had no knowledge beyond that.

He was met with a soft sigh before the other gentleman stepped forward- into the circle of Roman's arms, "This arm should be more rigid," he stated, fixing the positioning of Roman's arm before moving to the other, "This arm is hanging too low, this should be comfortable for both you and your partner, princey."

"I'm sorry, did you just call me princey?" Nothing else had registered with the young heir outside of the sudden nickname.

"Yes, I did, now can you please focus?"

"No! How is it fair that you know my name, and have so chosen to nickname me- without being given permission- and I know you as nothing other than 'the dance instructor?'" Roman ranted, his voice stating fairly calm despite the sudden affront to his own sensibilities- ones he was positive were not shared by anyone that was not a royal.

There was a moment of hesitation, and Roman could nearly see the thought process going on in his instructor's mind. After a few moments the other male let out a soft sigh, "Virgil. You may call me Virgil. Now can we focus on your dancing once more, please?"

For the following three hours, that is precisely what they did. Roman focused on his dances for the ball while questioning Virgil about himself. He was quick to learn that despite Virgil's profession, the other seemed far more intelligent than what was required for his station. So as the instructor announced a break for a meal, and gathered his possessions for the extended break, Roman approached him once more.

"Why are you a dance instructor? You have an abundance of knowledge that would be useful in any number of positions."

"Positions? What positions?" Virgil let out a soft scoff, "Princey, we are all given stations in life. No matter what is up here-" he reached across and gently tapped Roman's temple, "There are other things that seem to matter more."

"Like what?" The prince challenged, arching a brow and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Wealth, social status, connections!" Virgil easily listed off, his voice raising ever so slightly before he caught himself. Clearing his throat, Virgil averted his eyes, "My friend, he has a position anyone would envy. He was raised above me, but always treated me as an equal. He pushes any emotions aside to study and teach and train. He went from being stuck in his house, upholding what is right in status to holing away in shelves of books because anything else was below his rank in society."

"What does that have to do with-?"

"I'm getting there. My parents, they're little more than upper-middle class. They're the best of the arts and entertainers while also holding a degree to state their knowledge. I love the arts, but hate my station." He let out a soft laugh, "I've been trained to teach. From a young age that was my job, I had to teach those who were above me in the socio-economic scale and while they learned, they looked down on me. In their eyes anything I have in my head would be more useful with anyone else." He hesitated, "My job is just a simple 1-2-3-4, and then a 5-6-7-8; what need do I have for our kingdom's current state of affairs? Who cares that I can see the king is planning for a war? Why would the thoughts of a young male dancer matter to anyone?"

"I had no idea..." Roman started before his eyes widened, "Did you say father is planning a war?"

The shock on Virgil's face was clear, he hadn't meant to say those words- but he had, and he couldn't take them back now. "No, that's- that's not my business." Virgil stammered out after a few seconds, "Enjoy your dinner, your highness." He stated before grabbing his belongings and attempting to pass by the young royal.

"Wait! I need to discuss this with you!"

"No, your highness, you need to do your research and discuss this with his majesty. When I return, this conversation never happened. This... was too friendly. We need to put more space between us- like dance partners should."

This frustrated Roman and he quickly crossed to the other male, "Then you are trying to keep your dance partner too far away. Virgil, you are better than a man whom simply teaches others to dance. Can I... will you please talk to me further about what you have learned?"

The hesitation was back on Virgil's face- which makes Roman question how he didn't notice these struggles before. The other man was fighting with himself on just how far he was to go- should he uphold his proper station, or should he step out of bounds and say something. It was clear he wanted to say something now though, instead of holding back anymore, "Fine, but... after your meal break. I should not keep you from your family any longer."

"I'll accept this, on one condition," Roman began, giving a slight grin as Virgil tilted his head as though to question the condition, "Tell me your surname; I can not have you escaping just yet."