#bshfjbsafhs

@maicstas​  asked: Pats Jullus’ head with a vibe of a man whose probably only shown affection to a dog.

If Jullus already thought himself intimated and ill prepared by the very idea there be a chance His Eminence would attend the ceremony, it proves utterly insignificant to the terrible bout of nerves, a mixture of excitement and fear permeating his very soul when Emperor Varis actually does. To think so many of his peers have never and likely will never get this selfsame experience, nor the honor of standing in the same room as the other. To think so many would likely kill to get such a chance ━

He can’t but wonder if they too would feel like he does, frozen in place by awe, palms slightly sweaty and heart racing. 

It will be fine, he thinks. There are plenty other officials attending and Jullus, even as the newest recruit to the Ist Legion, is nowhere near as important in rank as some of them. Subsequently, he thus concludes after several deep and centering breaths, the chance that The Emperor were to even acknowledge him let alone approach him personally would be slim enough he needs not worry about making a fool of himself in front of the man.  

It is a chance slimmer still if he remains on his end of the hall. Stood somewhat off to the side, in the shade of one of the many pillars surrounding the space, Jullus contents himself to simply watch and observe whilst waiting for his Lord Quintus to start introducing him to others. 

In his defense, this proves a solid theory ━ for a while. 

A quarter bell passes and then half a bell and gradually Jullus finds himself relaxing. He salutes whoever salutes him, exchanges greetings when necessary, blue hues only occasionally straying to where he last saw the Emperor, feeling a little more awe-struck each time he espies him anew.  

When Lord Quintus then finds him at last, he follows as ordered; no moment wasted to stop and even think to question where he will take him, who he is to meet. 

It is not until they are making a straight beeline to The Emperor himself that Jullus realizes with a growing sense of dread that maybe, maybe he should have considered the fact that Emperor Varis and his Lord are known comrades. 

Whatever sense of calm he managed to regain in the interim splinter and fractures the very moment they come to a halt in front of His Radiance. Lord Quintus is talking, likely introducing him, but he could very well be extrapolating on the weather or doing a jig for all that Jullus is aware, too busy forcing his knees not to fail and his hands not to tremble to try and hear aught of the thundering beat of his own heart racing like a frightened hare in the confines of his chest. 

And then those radiant golden hues turn from Quintus to him, effectively pinning him in place. Jullus has enough wherewithal to salute, ending in a sharp, wooden bow, though he’s not entirely certain how he manages without falling over. He even succeeds in forcing out a somewhat wobbly “ Y-Your Eminence, “ ere swallowing reflexively past the tightness at the back of his throat, hoping by the Ancestors that Lord Quintus would not scold him for his misconduct later. 

Emperor Varis regards him silently for some beats, Jullus neck slowly growing stiff at the angle he needs crane it back to keep eye contact. Then, a hand raises, his own twitching instinctively at his side though he forces it back down when it seems unlikely to become an offer to shake hands. For a second, Jullus thinks His Eminence might pat him on the shoulder, fearing this may be the moment where he loses his footing after all. But then ━

His eyes grow wide, mouth dropping open in baffled surprise when that hand does not pat him on the shoulder, but on his head instead. Once, twice, His Radiance pats the crown, fingers surprisingly gentle against his hair for a man his size and stature, he thinks nonsensically. 

Jullus is too busy wondering whether he may be dreaming to even feel an ilm of indignation at being treated like he is some kind of pet. 

The Emperor’s hand drops back to his side. Jullus is still gawping up at him, much like Varis is still peering down at him as well, trapped in some awkward stand off where neither party seems entirely sure where to go from here. What does one say to The Emperor of Garlemald when said man just gave you a head pat?  It’s not a scenario he ever recalls seeing in one of the many pamphlets on conduct and behavior when around ones superiors.