Chapter Text
"I don't know why you must observe," Maelgwyn sighs as he tugs on his fencing gloves. "You chose this man, didn't you? Shouldn't he be up to your standards?" He pulls his curls back to tie them away from his face but the gloves make his hands
clumsy and Samot steps forward to assist.
"He came with excellent recommendation but I have yet to see the man work for myself." Samot runs his fingers through his son's hair, weaving it into a short braid and tying it securely. He leans forward to catch Maelgwyn's eye. "Must make sure we lose no candlesticks this time.”
Maelgwyn makes a face as he steps away to pick out a foil and Samot laughs softly. Samothes is certain that Maelgwyn is still consorting with the disgraced fencing tutor and his rowdy friends and Samot is privately inclined to agree, even if he had dissuaded his husband from looking into the matter further. The sound of Maelgwyn's ringing laughter had been so absent of late, and Samot felt it would be remiss to cut off its source.
Maelgwyn is testing the weight of swords he already knows like the back of his hand and Samot has settled in the window seat when the new instructor arrives. He is taller than Samot, though shorter than Samothes and broader than both. His dark skin glows warm in the afternoon light streaming in from outside. He carries himself formally and bows to them both and Samot thinks that he is a rather handsome man.
"My apologies if I am late," he says, looking uncertainly at Maelgwyn already outfitted in complete fencing gear.
"Not at all," Samot says gracefully, stepping forward. "My son is merely impatient. You are perfectly on time." He holds out a hand and the man shakes it, grip firm and calloused. "I am Samot. Miss Triste's personal guard spoke highly of you."
"Hadrian," he says, ducking his head as if embarrassed. "Hella and I have known each other for a long time. I only hope she has not been too exaggerated in her praise."
"Too exaggerated?" Samot laughs. "So a little exaggeration is fine, then?"
Hadrian looks startled. "Uh- No, I meant-"
Samot smiles and rests his hand on Hadrian's arm for a moment. "I take your meaning. Shall the lesson begin?"
Hadrian nods curtly and takes his own gear out of the large bag he'd carried in with him. Samot retreats back to his window seat and settles in to watch. He starts them out with very simple warm ups and rehearsal of basic positions and Maelgwyn quickly grows restless.
"I'm sorry, but I am not a child," he interrupts, and Samot supposed he should be grateful he is at least trying to keep a polite tone of voice. "I know these exercises well."
Hadrian nods and smiles a little. "Forgive me. I suppose I… learned violence before I learned technique. I was a soldier first and a fencer only later. I find it helpful to remind myself of the simple motions. If you wish, we could try a bout."
Maelgwyn nods and strides to take his place, Hadrian moving in a more relaxed manner. "To five. En garde!"
Maelgwyn is an accomplished fencer, having grown up with the sport, but Samot watches rapt as Hadrian steadily denies his every attack. The large man moves with a very specific kind of grace, one that is learned and takes concentration to hold but is no less beautiful for it. Maelgwyn manages to get a few hits in but Hadrian wins the bout with relative ease. They shake hands and Maelgwyn's face is more curious than annoyed.
"Where did you learn to do that? How did you know to parry that last lunge? Why do you keep your foil tilted like that? How-"
Hadrian patiently answers Maelgwyn's barrage of questions, showing him the maneuvers in slow motion and repeating them with him until his stance is correct. Samot finds himself smiling softly, his son's enthusiasm reminding him of when the boy was young.
The lesson eventually comes to an end, even if Maelgwyn looks like he could continue to pester the man straight through the night and the next day besides. He bites his tongue, however, and shakes his tutor's hand.
"Thank you for the lesson."
"You were an excellent student," Hadrian replies, and Maelgwyn flashes a brief pleased grin. "Shall I come back next week?" He glances between Maelgwyn and Samot with another moment of uncertainty, but Maelgwyn is already nodding vigorously and Samot steps forward to shake Hadrian's hand as well.
"Please do. Shall I walk you to the carriage?"
Maelgwyn retreats to his room and Samot waits for Hadrian to pack his bag again before they stroll together through the house and down the long garden path.
"Thank you, truly, for your tutoring. With… my father being ill," Samot sighs the words, unpleasant in his mouth. "Well. Everything has been quite tense, here. Maelgwyn… I've not seen him so enthused in quite some time."
"I'm sorry," Hadrian says softly. "I wish Samol well. And Maelgwyn- he is very good. I was afraid he'd best me entirely." Hadrian laughs a little and Samot joins in.
"I'd never have guessed, looking on."
"I have heard-" Hadrian looks at Samot out of the corner of his eye and then quickly looks away again. "I've heard you yourself are talented."
"Hm? With a foil, or perhaps in other ways?" Samot smiles at Hadrian's profile, an eyebrow raised.
"With- with a foil," he stammers, then his own eyebrows shoot up. "I, uh, also I've heard you are an excellent painter, and- not just-"
"We'll have to have a bout ourselves sometime," Samot says, smiling wider, resting his hand on Hadrian's arm again as they reach the carriage. "See if the tales about me have been too exaggerated."
Hadrian looks down and huffs a laugh. "We must." He gives a short bow and puts a hand in the door. "Until next week."
"I look forward to it," Samot says, waving goodbye and meaning the words with all sincerity.