Room 303, Thursday Morning After Classes

[bitchprince]

Arthur had had to put on spandex for class. It had taken work. It had taken effort. And it had become completely impossible to get rid of, which explained why he stomped into 303 still in his suit.

Red and gold spandex looked nice on him, yes, like many things, but Up With It he would not put. He sat down on the bed and got to unlacing his boots as soon as possible while he waited for Merlin to show up and help him out.

Once the boy was gone, he'd be far more comfortable.

[[ for the ears, at first, and then open to anyone after now that he's back to being dressed properly ]]

Comments

[bitchprince]

"And if they choose to rattle again, I'm sure you can hurl a pillow with some dexterity," Arthur said, lightly. "Although I wouldn't want to talk it up."

He smirked briefly, then sobered again. "Have you any idea what you'll do once you return to Verona?"

[withoutverona]

"Ah, I hadn't heard of the pillow-fight method of exorcism. I'll have to give it a go," Romeo said, grateful again for the lightness.

He resettled himself on the bed, thinking about the question. "Keep the peace, mainly. We had a hundred years of fighting; it may take a hundred more years for the habit to be entirely broken. I'm lucky to have Ben to lean on."

[bitchprince]

"Try not to hurt yourself doing it," Arthur advised, resettling himself, but not nearly as comfortably. The whole conversation had struck him something hard, and his mind had gotten itself stuck in a pensive place. "Remember not to think of every stranger as an enemy," he said, finally, "You'll end more wars with pardon and mercy than steel or threats."

It was most likely a good thing that Romeo didn't know about his father's policies, or he would've known what this meant.

[withoutverona]

"And I can hardly ask for a blank slate if I do not start afresh myself," Romeo said, quiet and sober. "It will be hard. There are some who will like the brawl, even when they see where it leads. And, well -- in some of their heads I'll forever be 16 and off with a notebook writing poetry."

He was now 18 and off with a notebook. This was ever so much wiser.

... and, describing this, he was starting to wonder why he felt so driven to go home.

[bitchprince]

Arthur fixed his eyes on Romeo's; this was altogether easier when it wasn't him. "Then you will prove them wrong," he said, matter-of-factly. "I know it's-- difficult. But it's how sons pick up after the sins of their fathers. The people will respect a man who isn't a coward."

[withoutverona]

And there was Romeo's conscience, prickling away again. Arthur wasn't half-bad at this inspirational speech thing.

"My father's not a bad man," he said. "He just -- he didn't try enough to end things or change things. The money is his interest. But I'm starting to think that what you just said, about steel and mercy -- mercy takes more courage, if it's chosen for the right reasons."

[bitchprince]

"Mercy is strength," Arthur returned, after a short moment. "Is a courage of equal kind."

He tended to do his inspirational speeches best when he didn't realise he was doing it, or when people were about to get killed. Luckily, they weren't in the latter situation. "You have to try," he said. There had been another pause shortly preceding it for reasons he wasn't likely to go into. "It's hardly your father's failing, but when you have the option, you need to try."

[withoutverona]

"And if I don't try, we'll fall. I can't see that." It was odd; as much as Romeo had wanted to renounce his name once, he now saw it as -- a sort of honor. A blessing, and a curse, and a destiny, in eight letters. He'd lived for a reason; Montague might be the reason.

And if it wasn't, well, at least he had the chance to be a good man.

[bitchprince]

Arthur's mouth gave way to a slight smile; it wasn't particularly joyous, but it wasn't sad, at that. "You won't," he said, "There is no justice in the fall, not for you."

For Arthur himself, he had no idea -- just his father and his expectations, and Merlin and his expectations, and the people. Some of them fitted into the other, and others did not.

"I'll visit you if I can," he said, that knowledge settled well down in his stomach. "Someone needs to show you how to throw properly."

[withoutverona]

And the pillow Romeo threw there was much more carefully aimed, half to make a point, half because he was relieved nothing had changed.

"Of course you will," he said, and rose and cracked his neck. "I'll go finish my packing, and try to avoid being attacked by any inanimate objects along the way."