Pools of rich honey stared into Virgil's own bleak steel irises and the two hues clashed, soft edges fought against a dull blade. Before Virgil could turn his gaze down for a cease the young prince in front of him grinned and his smile seemed to outshine the sun, his teeth were perfect sets of polished pearls and his eyes suddenly gleamed like gold. Virgil would've gone to his knees right then and there for at that moment he truly believed he had been standing in front of a young god. “I hear you come from a smaller kingdom, lesser-known.” The prince spoke with a voice far too powerful for a boy his age, it was strong and steady, a voice that led armies and moved hearts. Virgil swallowed the cold stone that had lodged itself into his throat and felt it plummet to the hollow pit of his stomach. “I…” his own voice betrayed him and quivered, “I am an exiled prince…now bound to your kingdom as a slave, here to serve for my wrongdoings.” His wretched gaze fell upon his bare feet against the polished floors of the palace. “Raise your head and look to me.” The prince demanded, Virgil obediently did as told and lifted his heavy chin, he laid his gaze upon the prince.

It was then that he finally, truly, looked at him, he discovered that the prince was a few inches taller and his shoulders a tiny bit broader than an average boy's. His skin was sunkissed, faultlessly graced upon by the god Apollo, and his hair was short and looked as though it had been recently trimmed though it was a pleasing tone of chestnut and Virgil imagined running his pale fingers through his hair, he could already feel how soft it would be under his touch. “You killed a man, did you not?” The prince bluntly questioned with a small tilt of his head, Virgil stiffened at the accusation. “N-no, no! It was an accident, I had nothing to do with it. I merely…pushed him away from me, as self-defense. Had I not, I would not be here, breathing and speaking as I am now.” He rationalized as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the prince squinted in thought as he once again studied him with his eyes, eyes that, due to Virgil staring at them for a questionable amount of times for him to realize, belonged to those of a lion.

“My father will judge you today, and he will determine whether you are competent enough to serve in his palace. I see now that you bear no murderous intent in your eyes, and you hold yourself like a bed slave, yet I know truly that you are stronger than you believe yourself not to be.” The prince smiled again afterward, “I will surely see you soon.” He turned on his heel to take his leave and Virgil suddenly felt cold. “What is your name, young prince?” he blurted and took a small step forward. The prince turned his head to look at him, his eyes lit up like the sun, “Roman.”

“My name is Roman.”

And he left, Virgil watched him as he did so, taking notice of how his own bare feet padded noiselessly against the floor, his pink heels held no scars or scratches as most young children had gained from outside mishaps and slip-ups. In fact, his whole body seemed to be left unscathed and smooth and for a moment Virgil truly believed the gods' had favored Roman and kept him both youthful and beautiful for their contentment. His thoughts were thwarted when a figure appeared just moments after Roman's departure, Virgil tidied up his posture and waited as the figure made its appearance known, revealing itself to be the king, and Virgil suddenly denied his recent beliefs.

King Sanders, young and handsome and fierce, yet his eyes were gracious and kind. Virgil nearly writhed beneath his gaze because despite having a caring gaze, the king was known to have sent many to their deaths. “Welcome, boy. I hope your journey here wasn't too harsh.” Like Roman's, the king's eyes were pools of honey, no..they were amber gemstones polished and glittering against the sunlight and put out for anyone to view. “I have been informed of your…crime.” Virgil flinched yet nevertheless he stood his ground and his eyes had not once left the king's face. As he did with Roman, Virgil looked at the king and plucked a few things he particularly noticed, like how his hair was something Roman inherited, and how his stature was one of a large domesticated feline, lean and muscular in the right places and just as dangerous and deadly when necessary. “I spoke to my son before I came here, he's a wise boy for his age, yet burdened with an unfair fate.” The king's voice was smooth and unwavering, Virgil envied both Roman and the king for their chivalry and how not once had they stammered or made blunders.

The king now stood in front of Virgil and it was then that the boy realized his mistake, he went down to one knee, the skin of his leg rubbed against smooth marble. “My deepest apologies..” he mumbled wearily, his voice still wavering and stuttering as ever as though he had been left out in the middle of a snowstorm, his body shook like it too. “My son, he has no one. No companions, no siblings, if I am to keep you here you shall become his companion. Protect him, protect his image and his reputation for he will be far greater than you and I.” Virgil stared at the floor knowing that if he were to lift his gaze his eyes would deceive him and reveal what he was feeling from within himself. The apprehension of such commitment was great, the prince was truly something else...

Something greater than great.

“Lift your gaze to me, boy.” The king insisted, but his voice carried a somber tone and Virgil knew he couldn't refuse. He lifted his chin to the king and knew then and there that the king saw his inner turmoil, his anxieties. “Your eyes are one of a protector..” The king acknowledged and extended a hand out to him, Virgil stared down at it and caught sight of the rough callouses on the pads of his fingers. “A protector?” he uttered and savored the word on his lips, his brows creased. It was sweeter, a title that fit him, a title meant for him, and something that meant something good. He could be good.

He grasped the king's rough palm and felt his large fingers clasp over his thin wrist. “Stand, boy.” The king drew him to his feet and Virgil rose as a new person. “My son will teach you the basics, whilst I will teach you how to fight and defend.” Virgil was a scrawny boy, and pale, and weak he wondered if he could ever live up to the king's image, he wondered if he was even capable of protecting Roman. Those doubts ate away at him like a plague, it poisoned him, it ran through his blood and pumped through his heart. “I shall try my best.” He replied thickly and gave the king's hand a small squeeze as though to reassure him, to let him know that he was not going to fail him or his son.

“My son feasts in the hall. Meet him there, and do not leave his side unless I call for you.” This was it. This was the beginning.

Virgil let his hand slip away from the king's grasp. “Yes, your highness.”

This was his rebirth.

--------------------------

Virgil ambled into the hall timidly, he had pursued the deep voices of men and was able to catch Roman's softer one, a voice that differentiated with the lower, gruffer voices. “Young prince?” he called out nervously and stepped into the dining room, there revealed a group of men with scruffy beards and broad shoulders that competed against the wild bears in the woods, amongst them Roman stood out vastly with his glowing skin and beautiful face as smooth as the fine marble that artists dedicated to for the sculptures of the gods. “Oh! What brings you here?” Roman chirped merrily, even from a distance his eyes still gleamed as brilliantly as ever. “Your father sent me to you. My position here in the kingdom has been decided.” Virgil responded nervously as he made an effort not to bow his head beneath the men's smoldering gazes. “Ah, I see. Allow me to finish up here, I shall meet with you soon. For now, you may await me in my room.” Roman offered with a minor personal smile before his face morphed to one that belonged to a young prince destined to become a legend. Virgil stiffened and couldn't help but feel as though the gods had been testing him now, surely they must have. “I am not to leave your side.” He asserted hastily, Roman withered and shared awkward glimpses with the older men.

“Got yourself a private bed slave, eh?” A man next to him elbowed him in the ribs with a massive meaty arm trained to kill, Roman bit back a yelp and instead pulled on a painful-looking grin. “You know my father, always trying to satisfy me. He's pampered me too much, and had it not been for my clever mother I would have been bathed in gold and prayed for blessing from the gods the moment I was born.” He chuckled a low throaty chuckle, one that shook his chest and scratched against his throat. Virgil flushed red and lowered his gaze, feeling a wave of downfall and humiliation wash over him. “He's no ordinary slave, men.” The largest man at the far end of the table spoke with a voice that rattled Virgil's bones. “Take a look at the boy. His skin glows like pearl and appears to be delicate meaning he was well kept, perhaps too well kept for a slave.” Virgil lifted his head and stared at the man who spoke of him as though he were a horse being inspected for battle. “His eyes have stolen the moonlight yet they gleam like a blade against the sun.”

Roman shifted in his seat before he spoke up. “I must return to my studies, men. It has been an honor feasting with you and hearing your stories, someday I hope to repay you with my own.” He stood then and held himself upright with his broad chest bulging, he was only ten and he was already carrying himself like a man. “Come, to me.” Roman gave an expectant look to Virgil and waited, the boy perked up and almost immediately scrambled over to Roman's side like a tamed mutt. “We expect great things, young prince, until then.” The largest man stood followed after by the others who easily towered over the two boys, Virgil stepped a little closer to Roman and watched as one by one the men left, their steps were large and heavy Virgil could feel the ground tremble beneath the soles of his feet. When the hall was left empty and the table full of work for the servants Roman veered to look at Virgil and snickered, “I'm not one for theatrics, but that was quite convincing don't you think?” the smallest of the two frowned, his face twisted with perplexity before it unwinded to one of understanding. “Oh, that was…” he trailed off and Roman laughed a light and bubbly type of laughter that made Virgil's insides stir. “Come, I'll show you my room.” He took Virgil's hand not knowing the impact he had on the poor smitten boy.

Roman led the way with a small skip in his step. “You should start getting to know your way around here if you're going to be living here. But for now, I'll lead the way.” He hummed, Virgil simply nodded as he allowed himself to be led away by the cheerful prince his eyes remained fixated on their intertwined fingers. Virgil's hand was a bit smaller in Roman's large and warm hand, a hand that belonged to a child, a hand so delicate yet one that would one day hold a sword. A hand that would soon resemble the hand of the king. “Are you hungry?” Roman asked out of the blue taking Virgil by surprise, his stomach moaned in response and Virgil's pale face flushed pink like the sun setting sky. "I…" he whined and looked down, Roman gave his hand a small squeeze which initially made Virgil lift his head. “You should always keep your head held high.” The prince recommended, and Virgil knew he couldn't go against his words.

“Your father told me you have an unfair fate.” Virgil blurted out, Roman proceeded with his pace, his bare feet not once halting to process Virgil's words and for a moment the boy believed he had spoken too softly for the prince to hear, but he was then relieved of his worries when they both came into a large room and Roman stopped. “My father can be a little dramatic sometimes.” He answered and let go fo Virgil's hand, the boy looked around the room and gawked, it was large and fit for a king. Animal furs were laid upon the ground, a large bed that could fit a small family was set at the farthest corner of the room, vases and pots and clothes plated with gold and silver lining spilled out from chests. “I never liked all these luxuries, but my father gifted them to me, I can't really reject a gift from him,” Roman explained as he crouched in front of a larger chest and pulled out a golden lyre. “But I do love music..” he stood and turned to Virgil. “Do you play?” he queried with a smile.

The boy looked at the familiarly shaped instrument and shook his head. “Only listened.” He replied and watched as the prince settled himself onto his bed and strummed the strings of the instrument birthing a beautiful and soothing tone. “You never answered my question,” Roman proclaimed firmly, Virgil cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?” He hummed questionably, Roman drew a large breath and sat up. “Are you hungry?” Virgil felt paralyzed beneath the prince's gaze, the temptation to dip his head was strong, but his will was stronger. “Yes…very much so.” He replied shakily yet not once breaking eye contact, Roman's eyes widened with surprise and he suddenly broke into a fit of harmonious laughter. “I like you very much ah…your name..” his laughter ceased, "I never got your name."

Virgil felt his insides freeze, and for a moment he was certain his heart had stopped beating, but Roman's warm gaze thawed him out and brought him back to sensibility.

“Virgil” The name slipped off his tongue as though he had bitten into bitter fruit.

“My name is Virgil.” He clarified, making sure his voice was heard loud and clear.

It was then that he realized that he had not stuttered, and his voice had not betrayed him, in fact, it was enlaced with newfound courage.

Virgil may have been an exiled prince, but that boy had died beneath the king's gaze and words, suddenly, Virgil understood when many claimed that the king had sent many to their deaths.

Virgil was a name now cleaned of any sin or taint, it was new and clean, and prepared.

Roman smiled.

“Virgil…”

“I like that name.”