Prinxiety Week 2026

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It was Roman's birthday.

Roman's 18th birthday - in universal rotations. The day that marked him as an adult, and the day that marked him an on-planet decade before he would ascend to the throne, and around two universal rotations. The numbers weren't exactly right, but doing the conversions properly made his head hurt. It had already taken him long enough to learn the standard Galactic language, let alone standard Galactic maths. He hadn't even planned on being out here for long enough to even have a birthday.  

Yet, here he was, squashed in his tiny little cubbyhole bedroom on this two being ship he'd been living on for about half a rotation now. It didn't exactly do his feathers any favours, they were still all crumpled and dull, but at least they were growing back at all. It proved, at least, that this uncomfortable way of living was better than that awful place he'd been trapped in, even if he already knew that for a myriad of other reasons.  

It didn't matter, his wings hadn't been stretched in so long, he couldn't even stand at full height in this place and he was terrified now to go planet side.

On top of all that, it was his birthday. 

If he were at home, they'd be celebrating. There would be festivals in his honour across the planet. He'd be preparing his ceremonial robes and maybe causing some kind of mischief with Remus before the royal feasts. It was Remus' birthday today too, after all. Roman wondered if they'd be doing the festivals for him instead. 

Probably not. Roman's people didn't like Remus much, even if he'd claimed him as a brother right out of the nest. 

But instead of grand parties, flying over the towers of his palace with Remus, watching dramatic aerial shows, dancing, performing his rituals or feasting in celebration, he was in his tiny room, alone.

He hadn't gone out once since he'd woken up with the lights. It had been long enough since Roman had woken up comfortable that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Unfortunately, there were days he did remember. And days like this, where he should be experiencing the most lavish of luxuries, were the ones that made him remember the days where the joints in his wings and arms and legs didn't always ache from the bed that wasn't built to hold them. 

The beds at home were built to accommodate things like his wings. The beds here weren't even built to accommodate a being with a heavy solid mass, considering his host was not one. 

Virgil was lovely, and Roman wouldn't trade him for the world, but their species being so different meant that Roman was slightly... lacking in things he might need on the small ship from Virgil's home planet. Like space to easily fit through the doors, or room to sleep without having to curl up like he was dead. 

Every measure that could be taken had been, and Roman thought Virgil was ever so gracious for finding him pillows and blankets planet side and giving up his bunk to give Roman even a little more room, plus the privacy he so desperately craved. Virgil had claimed he didn't need the dedicated space as badly when Roman had protested, and more than once Roman had seen him curled up asleep in the chair of the navigation pod instead. He'd always claimed it was comfortable enough when Roman checked in. He was kind to a fault, but kindness could only really go so far in a world that wasn't built for Roman whatsoever. He could only do so much.

Roman hadn't told him that it was his birthday. The Fiehlin had done so much for him already, he didn't need to weigh him down with his misery. He was already struggling to be the most princely version of himself he could be for his rescuer at the best of times, but today? Today would be the worst.

And Roman already knew there wasn't much Virgil could even do, even if Roman was sure he would offer.

There was a little gentle chime that Roman recognised by now as the equivalent of a knock on the door. Roman sighed softly, pushing himself up from the bed and shaking out his feathers, he glanced in the tiny wall mirror to make sure the feathery plumes and fronds on his forehead didn't show obvious signs of his moping in bed. He didn't have time to preen his wings like he'd normally spend hours doing for the celebrations, so he knew he looked a mess anyway. At least he could try and play it off like he'd been doing anything other than laying curled up in bed. 

The chime rang again, and Roman took a deep breath before pressing the button to allow the door to slide open to show Virgil ripple backwards. Virgil's large eyes blinked at him, clearly taking him in in that hyper-perceptive way he always did.

"Hello Virgil," Roman said, trying to puff out his chest, though his heart just wasn't in it, "Lovely seeing you today, what brings you here?"

"Um," Virgil said, wiggling a little, "I just haven't seen you all cycle, I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Oh! Why yes, I'm perfectly okay," Roman said, trying to force his many fronds to perk up to show just how okay he was, "Apologies, I was just... um, getting ready! For the day!"

The obvious lie fell flat. Virgil's form tilted like Roman's head did when he was trying to puzzle something out and his eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"If you just woke up, you can tell me, Roman," Virgil said, though he didn't seem completely sure in his guess. Roman sighed. 

"I haven't just woken up," Roman said, deflating, "I just... never got up when I did."

Virgil made a noise that was kind of a trilling squeak, "You should eat something."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're clearly not, Ro," Virgil huffed, "I've haven't seen you so messy since we started travelling together."

"I'm sorry?" Roman said, running his hands over the feathers on his arms and trying not to bite his lip as he processed the ball of shame that statement ignited in his chest. 

"I didn't mean it like that," Virgil said quickly, "Just - you usually preen yourself a lot before I ever get to see you, especially after- whatever, it doesn't matter, just- you gotta eat, it's almost midway through the cycle."

Roman sighed, looking away as Virgil inched closer, nudging Roman in the direction of their small galley kitchen. Roman took a deep breath, and followed Virgil's gentle direction. 

By the time he'd gathered his breakfast of meats together, Virgil had gone and set the ship on autopilot and returned. The entire time he'd been staring at Roman with expressions ranging from contemplative to confused. Roman couldn't quite understand what exactly he was thinking about.

Roman finished the breakfast he didn't particularly feel like eating and they came face to face again. Finally, Virgil seemed willing to share the thoughts that must be racing around his head.

"You're quiet," Virgil said, after a deep breath, "Usually mealtimes are more social for you - did you have a nightmare or something?"

"No," Roman shook his head, now holding onto a pot of steaming tea made from the closest thing Virgil could find to the flavours he'd described for their traditional breakfast drink, his claws tapping against the material repeatedly, "I didn't have a nightmare."

"...Is- did something trigger you?" Virgil asked, voice gentle and eyes narrowed again. His shadowy form was rippling in agitation. Not knowing what was wrong with Roman was clearly bothering him but he couldn't quite force the words out of his mouth to explain. 

"No," Roman said, refusing to meet Virgil's eyes as he stared down into the ripping liquid, his sharp teeth tugging at his lip, "it's not anything bad, I promise, it's just kind of stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," Virgil said, "You want a hug?"

"A hug?" Roman asked, surprised enough to look up at Virgil. 

"Supposedly my kind are pretty good at them," Virgil said, "Because of the uh- the formlessness?"

Roman couldn't help but smile at him, "Okay- I don't.... I don't really know what that'll be like but... I'm willing to try it?"

"You've never been hugged?"

"I- well- it's sort of traditional that I'm not to be touched by anyone," Roman said, "So no-one ever did, back home, and definitely not in a formlessness way."

"Oh... well if I shouldn't- I won't cross a boundary or anything."

Roman shook his head sadly, "Virgil, I think I'm well past the point of never being touched at this point. You rescued me from a fighting ring, I'm sure a hug won't break me."

Blinking twice, Virgil fell almost completely still for a moment. Roman didn't usually bring up the way he'd been rescued so bluntly. Usually he preferred to skirt around it and make it seem more dramatic than it was in the process. Virgil never brought it up unless he did, as if he was terrified that talking about it would have Roman breaking down. 

"So... you would like a hug?" Virgil asked eventually, voice wavering. Roman nodded, his feathers puffing up more naturally this time. Virgil moved forwards slowly, and when he was close enough he quite literally melted into Roman. The almost liquid quality of his body enveloping him and providing a gentle, cool weight with a slight clinging sensation, while what must be a more solid part of his body wound up pressed against his back, between his wings, forming a comforting weight. 

Virgil may appear small when he's just existing, but Roman had seen just how far he could stretch himself. Right now it allowed him to become the perfect blanket. Roman quickly found he never wanted Virgil to let go of him. 

Of course, eventually, he had to. Once Roman had finally relaxed and stopped looking so droopy, Virgil melted back off of him, reforming into his normal shape and giving Roman a look as if to ask 'are you better now?'

"Thank you, Virgil," Roman said, bowing to Virgil in order to express his gratitude properly, "That truly helped a lot."

"Will you tell me what was bothering you, now?" Virgil asked, "You don't have to - if you don't want - it's just... good to talk about stuff sometimes, and I'll be here if you need to."

"You'll think it's silly," Roman said, sighing as he looked away once more. 

"I won't," Virgil said, bobbing closer again, "And even if I do I promise I won't poke fun."

Roman hummed. That much was far better than nothing. 

"It's... my birthday," Roman admitted, "It would be a big one back home, and I... feel a little- I don't know, lonely?"

"Oh... Ro that's not silly at all, you idiot," Virgil said, his whole form shaking in irritation, "You're homesick, that's normal, dude. You've been away from them, like, two whole universal rotations by now. How many years is that on your planet?"

"Near enough to a decade," Roman admitted meekly, "I don't wish to do the math."

"Fuck," Virgil said softly, "You've missed so many, then?"

"We only properly celebrate every five years, since our years are quite fast," Roman said, "They'd lose their novelty otherwise."

"Still," Virgil said, "That's - what, four celebrations?"

"Three, including this one," Roman said. He'd thought about this far too much. Virgil came forward and reattached himself to Roman's arm. The comfort flowed through him easily. 

"And this one would've been important?"

"It would've marked my ascension to adulthood, officially," Roman said, "The entire planet would've been celebrating."

"I- wow, that's uh- that's a lotta people," Virgil laughed, the sound stilted and nervous. Virgil wasn't very open about his home life, similar to Roman in that regard, but Virgil wasn't anyone important back home, not in the way Roman was or anything like it. Roman was a prince. Destined to rule their planet in only a few decades. 

"I was wondering what they might think happened to me," Roman admitted, "I don't know if they'd still celebrate, hoping for my return, or use it for a day of mourning instead."

"You didn't tell anyone you were leaving?" Virgil asked. 

"For them to stop me? Of course I didn't," Roman shook his head, "My brother is the only one who knew."

"I'm so sorry," Virgil said softly, "I know we don't have a planet of people here to celebrate you, but... is there anything we can do?"

Roman had known he would ask, and at first it did send the expected stab of disappointment through him.

"I don't know what we could do," Roman admitted, "At home it's all - big parties and extravagant food and festivals, we only have two of us - and you can't even fly. Neither of us can in this ship. I can't even expect you to have a gift for me, when i never told you - besides, I'd never ask that of you, you've already done too much for me."

Roman saw Virgil's eyes go to Roman's wings and then back to his face.

"If I can find you a gift, I will, but there's really nothing we can do as two of us?" Virgil asked, tilting his form again, "Like - any activities you'd normally do? If there's really nothing, we could… maybe we could make up our own? Or I can tell you some of the things my people do and see if any of those appeal to you?"

Make up our own. Roman hummed in thought. He liked that idea. He liked the idea of hearing what Virgil's people might do, too. Right now, though, he'd been given an idea. An embarrassing one, but an idea nonetheless

"Do you have music?" Roman asked, folding into himself a little as he said it, with his wings curling protectively around his body. Virgil let out a contemplative hum at the question.

"I think so," Virgil said, "I dunno if it'll be any good to you, though."

"Can we try it?" Roman asked, feeling a little more hopeful, "and maybe dance a little?"

Virgil's eyes closed and his form expanded outwards for a moment, before shrinking back into itself as if he were taking a long, deep breath. "I'll see what I've got. If I haven't got anything that's danceable, we'll stop off and look for something next time we're in range - is that okay?"

"That's okay," Roman agreed, "Oh, thank you, thank you, we would've danced to played music at festivals back at home, so… maybe if we dance together, it'll be fun."

"Don't thank me," Virgil said, even as he turned away to head towards the navigation room of their ship, "I haven't found anything yet."

----

None of Virgil's music was anything Roman was even remotely familiar with, but a lot of it had enough rhythm to dance to, and Roman found he actually quite liked the sounds once he got more used to them.

Virgil was odd to dance with. It had taken them a long while to find a way that worked for both of their bodies, being so different. Roman's tendrils could sway, though, and Virgil's form could make the approximation of limbs to hold Roman's hands, and it was so much better than nothing that Roman had almost been brought to tears twice.

After they'd gotten tired from dancing, they'd sat together in the common area, with Roman sitting and Virgil draped across him like a blanket after Roman had admitted just how comforting he found the position.

"So… what would I be doing today if I was a Fiehlin," Roman asked, curiosity reignited after their afternoon had actually turned out to be enjoyable.

"Mm," Virgil hummed, blinking his eyes open and shifting so that his eyes appeared at Roman's shoulder, "Well- You'd have picked out a place you wished to live earlier - most of us would stay on the same brach as our families. You'd spend the morning digging it out with your family and friends - usually a lot of Fiehlin."

"Digging it out?" Roman asked.

"Mhm - my people all live underground in a giant cave system. It's very nice and dark."

Roman hummed a soft laugh, of course a shadow based people would enjoy the dark.

"So… you dig out your own cave to live in?"

"Yep, usually you'd have worked together to design it, that's probably what I'd be doing if I was planet side right now, since my birthday is in a few sets." Virgil explained. Roman briefly wondered if Virgil would be going back to do all of that - it sounded important - but he brushed past it before Roman could ask, "But anyway, you'd all dig it out, and once that's done you'd get gifts from everyone - most often things for your home, or food - and then you'd all decorate and eat together in your new home."

"That sounds really lovely," Roman said softly, sure his fronds were glowing brightly now with his joy.

"It is, yeah, especially when you have lots of people," Virgil said, with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "Usually it would end in a big cuddle puddle with your whole family and friends - since we have such big families, there's usually a big cave the whole family uses communally, so it would happen there if you don't all fit in your new cave."

"I only have my brother," Roman admitted, "I do have other nestmates, but my brother and I were separated from them early, so I don't know them personally."

Virgil gave an upset little jitter at that information.

"Don't you have parents?"

"Well… no, it doesn't really work like that for our people," Roman admitted, "All clutches of eggs are laid in the nursery and taken care of by nurses until and after they hatch - not by their layers."

"…Oh," Virgil says softly.

"Only specific members of our species are equipped to care for young," Roman explained, "Even if near everyone is capable of egg production, so I suppose you could see it as 'parent' being a dedicated job role by those who can do it, just like I was born as a prince."

"Do you not have a royal family?"

"A what?"

"Like - I dunno, most of the time when I see aliens with a monarchy it's like a family line, but you don't have parents, so how do your people like… know?" Virgil asked. Roman hummed.

"Oh! Of course, it's because of these," Roman said, flexing and fluttering his wings a little, "I have two sets of wings, where the rest of my people only have one, it's also said that the egg I hatched from looked quite different - golden and glowing in nature."

"So it's just… random?"

"Not exactly," Roman shrugged his shoulders, "My people were aware it was coming time where a new royal would be needed, the avairans who laid my egg would've volunteered and been given some special treatment and rituals during the uh, process."

"Sounds complicated," Virgil said with a small trill, "We elect our leaders."

They quickly devolved into a much more in depth discussion of their two cultures than they'd had so far. Roman's people were private and preferred that little was known about them, but with Virgil offering information, Roman felt inclined to return the favour.

When the conversation eventually circled back around to Roman's birthday, and if he'd like to do anything else, Roman hardly had to think about it.

"Would we be able to cuddle puddle?" Roman asked, tilting his head a little, "I know I'm not liquid like you are, so it might not work, but-"

"We can," Virgil said, "I mean - we're sort of already doing it."

Roman took stock of their position. As he'd relaxed, his wings and curled up around Virgil's form where he was plastered to Roman's side, completely engulfing his arms and leaving him restricted in a way that didn't feel restricted whatsoever. He'd ended up laying down almost completely.

"Oh," Roman laughed happily, "Well it is very nice - do you think I could have dinner and we could come back? Perhaps bring out the blankets you got for me and make a proper bed out here so that I may sleep properly?"

"Yeah, we can do that," Virgil said, slowly peeling himself away from Roman so he could sit up, "Would you wanna eat together?"

Roman's wings flapped in his immediate joy at the offer, his tendrils perking up and his feathers puffing in excitement. Virgil trilled.

"I'm guessing that's a yes?"

Forcing himself to breathe, Roman calmed himself, "I- I would like that very much, but I know you don't always like seeing me eat, so you don't have to."

"I can tolerate it for one day," Virgil said, "Your teeth are just big."

Roman let out a chirping laugh, he had learned in his brief solo adventures that beings with saber teeth weren't the most common. Nor were feathered beings with a jaw full of sharp carnivorous teeth. Safe to say seeing him rip meat from a bone was a little unnerving to herbivorous beings like Virgil. Roman could appreciate what an honour Virgil was giving him by offering to eat together.

So, the two of them sat and ate a big dinner together, before dragging all of the pillows and blankets on the ship into the common space for Roman to create a makeshift kind of nest before the two of them laid down together to cuddle.

"Happy birthday, Ro," Virgil said softly, just as the two of them were about to fall asleep. 

Roman hummed happily, "Thank you, Vee,"

All things considered, Roman fell asleep full and happy and not alone. It wasn't a birthday at home, but he found it was still something just as special.

----

| Next -> |

He sits down, then after a moment of contemplation, flops back, making sure his head is on Roman's pillow so he can breathe in his partner's scent. Better. He can feel his heartbeat slowing, steadying. The dizziness is beginning to ebb and in its place, a sickly fatigue is starting to creep in.

"All I did was try to get dressed," Virgil mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, and struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. He can't cry. Roman will notice. Roman might call off their picnic. Virgil doesn't want that.

Actually, if there's one thing Virgil would change about Roman, it might be that. Symptom flare, in Roman's mind, always seems to mean that Virgil should rest. That plans can be cancelled and things can be shuffled around and it's okay to take a break.

And it's not that Virgil doesn't appreciate that. Because they do! It helps knowing that Roman's not going to dismiss them when they feel like shit, or push them into overdoing it.

It just--

He wishes that Roman would let him decide that a little more. That maybe, Virgil's okay not feeling the greatest, if it means they get to do something. Either something fun, like this picnic, or something else, like an important appointment or chore.

Virgil rubs at the bridge of their nose. Of course, every time they think of bringing that up, all they can think is that they're just weighing Roman down with their disabilities. Because if they insist on powering through something when they're unwell (especially the important shit), then it takes longer. Both for the thing, and then for the aftermath. And Roman has to help him more sometimes. And he can be out of commission more, from POTS or chronic pain or migraine or whatever else. Keeping Roman from doing anything. Making himself even more of a burden. 

Roman never calls him a burden, but Virgil's good at scribbling in that blank himself.

Virgil drags himself upright again, grabbing his half-empty bottle of electrolytes™ and taking a few swallows. They can do this.

They do manage to get dressed by the time Roman is out of the bathroom. Black skirt that hits a few inches above his knees, purple shirt that hides the abdominal compression, knee-high compression socks in a purple/black Halloween pattern. He's got rainbow sneakers for the outdoors, ones that always make him smile.

Roman's face lights up when he sees them, and Virgil's cheeks redden, a pleased smile turning up his mouth.

"You look gorgeous, darling!" Roman says, arms slipping around Virgil's back and pulling him closer, planting a kiss on Virgil's forehead.

"Thanks," Virgil says. He bites his bottom lip as he makes a show of looking Roman up and down. "You're pretty handsome yourself," they say lightly, tugging Roman down for a proper kiss. Roman tastes faintly of toothpaste.

"Ready, darling?" Roman asks. Virgil nods, then hesitates.

"Gotta pee again," they admit, as their face goes redder. "I drank more."

"Good boy!" Roman praises, and Virgil feels a tingle of happiness go down all the way to their toes.

When they return, Roman's sitting on the couch in the living room, idly scrolling through his phone. An honest-to-goodness picnic basket is laying at his feet, with a purple ribbon threaded through the handles.

"Oh my god," Virgil giggles. Roman looks up and grins, unashamed.

"Do you like it?" He asks. Virgil nods and sits down on the other side of the couch to put his shoes on. He has a bag, too, one that already contains some useful things, like his midodrine and extra electrolytes. He has a water bottle, too, of course.

He's lightheaded again as soon as he stands on, but he tries not to let it show as he smiles at Roman. It will be fine, Virgil chants to himself. His smile goes sappy, seeing Roman grab Virgil's hoodie "just in case" the weather changes.

The weather outside isn't particularly hot, but Virgil's heart still starts pounding in his chest as he waits for Roman to unlock the car. If I get this picnic canceled, I will never forgive myself, Virgil promises himself darkly.

"Virgil?" Roman asks, after buckling himself in. Virgil turns, sure that the truth of his minor POTS flare is written all over their face. Roman smiles softly at them, then tugs them closer and kisses their lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Virgil breathes, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he loves this man. Guilt squirms, cold and sour and abandoned, in the pit of his stomach. 

The park's not that far away. Virgil feels fine, bopping along to the cute playlist he turned on, the air conditioning blasting his skin. Roman's adorable when he belts out a song, Virgil decides. They can't stop the smile when Roman sings a particularly tricky bit and then grins after, like he's accomplished something brilliant (and he has).

There are people in the park, but not as many as Virgil would have expected on a nice day. Roman parks in the shade, and some of Virgil's apprehension slips back, pooling in his chest. 

"Shall we?" Roman asks, and Virgil nods eagerly. 

Roman won't let them carry the picnic basket. No matter how Virgil entreats him.

"It is my noble duty," Roman informs them, holding it higher, out of Virgil's grasp. Virgil stomps his foot, laughing.

"Roman!" Virgil protests. "I can carry a picnic basket! You're the one who put it together, the least I could do is carry it!"

"Hmm, a worthy argument," Roman says, pretending to ponder. "No."

"You're ridiculous," Virgil mutters. Roman grins smugly at him, then tucks the picnic basket in one arm, offering his other hand to Virgil.

"May I escort you?" Roman asks, like they're suddenly in a period drama. Virgil laughs and takes his hand.

"Sure, but if I fall, you have to rescue the picnic basket and the picnic basket alone, it's my dying wish," Virgil teases. 

"You don't feel like falling, right?" Roman asks, the joking evaporating from his tone, and Virgil sighs.

"No, my love, I'm not going to fall," Virgil says. He wishes he hadn't said it, all of a sudden. He didn't- it was just supposed to be a joke--

"Good, because the picnic basket gets it if you do," Roman says, and he's smiling when he says it, but Virgil knows he's serious. It quiets them, makes them pay more attention to the discomfort in their chest and the exhaustion weighing down their limbs.

Roman finds an empty pavilion and sets the picnic basket down in the middle of a table, gracefully assisting Virgil in sitting down on one side of the table. He sits down facing them, and lightly tugs the ribbon on the picnic basket's handles.

"Voila!" Roman says. "Lunch is served." Virgil smiles at his theatrics. His chest feels soft and fuzzy and warm now again. He knows Roman means well. Knows he worries.

"Give me your wrist?" Roman requests. Puzzled, Virgil holds out one arm, cheeks flushing as Roman lightly ties the ribbon around his wrist. "Mine," Roman says quietly, and Virgil feels like melting.

"Yours," he agrees, just as softly.

Peeking into the basket, Virgil wants to tear up. Roman's picked out several of their favorites. It's not fair. It's not fair he's so sweet and kind and loving and--

"Virgil?" Roman asks, concern and alarm mixing together in his voice. Virgil looks up and blinks rapidly when he realizes that Roman is suddenly blurry.

"Sorry," they say, swallowing hard. "Sorry, I just- you're so sweet."

"Sweetheart, I don't think a cupcake in your lunch is enough to make you cry," Roman points out. "What is it?"

"I don't-" Virgil takes a deep breath. "I need my midodrine," he admits roughly. "I don't- I don't feel the greatest, but-"

"Darling, we didn't have to-" Roman starts, confirming Virgil's worst fears.

"But I wanted to!" They blurt out, accidentally interrupting him. "Sorry," they mutter, cheeks hot. "I just- it's always a little bad in the morning, and it's a little worse today, and I hate it, I hate doing nothing and feeling so shit, it's not- it's not fair, but I- I want to be here, I want to do things sometimes, I don't want to just cancel all the time, but I don't know when that's just- just the internal ableism talking, or when I just wanna do shit, and I appreciate you so much, but you just- I don't want to cancel," Virgil finishes plaintively, breathing hard. Tears burn the corners of his eyes. "And now I'm ruining everything, and I just-"

"Hey," Roman says, suddenly much closer, and Virgil realizes he's gotten up and moved to Virgil's side of the table. He gently tilts Virgil's chin up, so he can look into their watery green eyes. "Sweetheart. You aren't ruining anything."

"I'm crying," Virgil points out, voice wobbling. Roman's thumb gently brushes away some of the tears, as he smiles sadly down at Virgil.

"You are," Roman says. "But you haven't ruined anything, beloved. You're just overwhelmed. I'm sorry if I've been contributing to it. I don't want you to feel like you can't rest, or listen to your body, or push through things just because you think you have to. Your health is so, so important to me. Physical and mental. Can we-" He hesitates, and Virgil waits, heart trembling in his throat. "Can we talk about it when you don't feel well? I won't knee-jerk say that we should cancel something, or not go out, okay? We can talk about it. Would that help?"

"Yeah," Virgil says, feeling like a bobble-head doll as they nod. They sniff hard once, then twice. Ugh, congestion. "That- yeah, that would help a lot. Thank you." Roman kisses Virgil's cheek, and Virgil sags against him in relief.

"Now," Roman says. "Even though you don't feel well, you want to still have this picnic, right?"

"Yes," Virgil says. "I do. Very much." His heart feels lighter in his chest, though he knows it's still beating a little fast. "Yes, I do. With you." He reaches out a hand, booping Roman on the nose and making him laugh.

"With me," Roman agrees, with a little laugh, tugging Virgil closer against him. "Then let's eat, sweetheart. And don't forget your meds."

"I won't," Virgil promises, fondness stealing through them like warm, sweet syrup. "I love you." A thought strikes them, and they pout. "I can't lie down for at least four hours after I take it, though."

"We can cuddle like this," Roman says, already knowing where their mind is going, as he wraps an arm around their middle. They've somehow found themself almost straddling the end of the bench, pressed into Roman, but Virgil can't say he minds very much.

The deal Roman made with the god of death entails the following:

Roman would willingly part with half of his soul for Virgil's to hold on to, thus leaving him in a vulnerable state for centuries at a time:

This is a huge risk, as when Gods are weakened, they can be killed, therefore meaning that the god of death could reap Roman's soul, leaving all mortals (and his kingdom) without the God of Creativity.

Virgil would have his reincarnation cycle shortened to a century, and his soul would retain all the memories of his past life;

When he is reincarnated, the memories of his past life lay dormant, and can only be triggered back to the surface by making contact with Roman

That's all, I think.

In this AU, Roman's love is rare, as his main focus is on creativity, which means that whenever he does fall in love with someone, he falls really hard and deep. This happened with Virgil. Unfortunately, in Virgil's first life, he was sickly and was dying of an illness. Roman couldn't cope with the idea of proceeding his eternal life with only 10 years' worth of memories with him, and so a discussion of reincarnating Virgil's soul was made and agreed upon. So then, when Virgil died, Roman made the Deal, gave half his soul, and waited while mourning.