sanders-sides-thuri:

andromeda-galaxsander:

ironwoman359:

sanders-sides-thuri:

fangirlfiles1:

I write down little ideas when I have them and I just found this: “In which Roman buys Virgil a sword. He is very confused.” And like… I have nothing else for it but it makes me laugh. Someone please expand on this.

So…I tried. It got feelsy on me! 

“…it’s a sword.” Virgil stared down at the blade in his hands. He’d expected mabye an umbrella, from the shape of the package. Or even a baguette, Roman was weird like that. But…

“Good to know your eyes are working, swiss alarmy-knife,” Roman returned, still looking at Virgil expectantly. He’d tugged Virgil aside soon after the Secret Santa gifts had been given, telling him he had an extra of his own. But Virgil never could’ve predicted this.

“It’s a sword,” Virgil repeated, utterly confused. “And you’re giving it to me.”

“Your grasp of the situation is impressive.”

Virgil glanced between the black and silver hilted sword and Roman, fairly certain he was being made fun of. If only he could figure out how. “I don’t know what to…”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You could try saying thank you.”

Virgil flushed, feeling sweat start to prickle along his backbone. “Sorry. Um. Thank you, Roman. It’s very..pointy?”

“Yes, I thought your might prefer stabbing to slashing,” Roman said, as if Virgil’s words had actually made sense. “But don’t worry, the tang runs the full length of the hilt, it’s strong. And you can still use the edge and flat if you like, a broadsword is really half bludgeon, though I’ll thank you not to tell Logan I said so.”

“Oh…okay,” Virgil agreed, deciding not to ask. He didn’t want to know what argument Logan and Roman were having at the moment. “But that doesn’t explain…why? I mean, why for me?”

Roman blinked at him. “It’s not obvious?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“Uh…no,” Virgil admitted. Shit. Should it have been? Should he be getting this? But…but no, it didn’t make any sense…

“A knight must have a sword,” Roman said. “A Champion Protector even more so.”

“Okay…” Virgil said slowly. “I get that’s why you have one, but…”

“Oh no!” Roman interrupted him, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m not the Champion, I’m a knight, of course, but I’m not Thomas’s protector, Virgil. You are.”

Virgil stared at him, his mouth dropping open. “I…what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Roman asked again, as if it should be, as if he weren’t speaking absolute insanity. “You’re Thomas’s Champion, his knight protector. You keep him safe from all evil, you sacrifice your own safety and comfort for his, you do everything you can to ensure he survives. You’re as great a knight as any I’ve known. And so you need a sword.”

“I…you…really?” Virgil managed, his voice cracking. Was Roman really…was Roman actually calling him an…an equal?

“Of course! Here, let me show you how to use it!” Roman seemed to take Virgil’s stunned silence for approval, and took the sword from his hand, drawing it from its black and purple sheath, demonstrating a few moves, his tunic twirling with him as he fought an imaginary adversary.

And Virgil watched, hugging himself tightly, clutching the sheath to his chest. He watched, as Roman made him a part of his fantasy realm, as Roman shared his excitement and world, as Roman, in his own way, showed that he had completely and finally accepted Virgil for what he did–and had given him a title to match.

Thomas’s Champion. Of all the nicknames Roman had given him, Virgil thought he liked that one the best.

Awww!! This is so pure!

Aaaaah!! Someone please draw this!!!

Someone did!!