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Guts, to put it simply, hated places like this. Stuffy nobility cramped into a lavish ballroom decorated head-to-toe in lush garments no common man could ever dream of owning. Their gowns and suits were emblazoned with luxurious pigments, vibrant yellows, reds, and purples staining the afterglow of torches. Huddled masses of Midland’s most important Lords muddled together, wine in their hands and mirth cleverly plastered their faces. Sworn enemies now engaged in pleasantries as if the wars their men waged were nothing but fantasy. The irony did not escape Guts, but that didn't make him any less angry. It was too stupid, too egregious, too dissentious, too ridiculous, but most of all to Guts it was simply too...
“Exhausting” Guts thought to himself, letting out a held breath he didn't realize he had. There were too many people, in too small a room, with too many windows and no sword by his side for him to relax. Noisery than the battlefields he rode in but unlike those places the matter of strength and physical prowess means nothing here. No, see ballrooms and noble gatherings were a test of charismatic acrobatics that his large frame could clearly not support.
“He seems to be enjoying himself at least” Guts peered into the crowd, his eyes catching the angelic locks of perfectly maintained white hair his commander was bestowed with.
Griffith was near the entrance of the room, a gaggle of Ladies and their daughters already enveloping him in an embrace of warm welcomes and curious questions. A sly smile dawned on his face complementing his already soft features, his teeth ever so slightly appearing past his luscious lips. His platinum hair struck ever more brilliantly in the orange hue of torchlight radiating an almost ethereal presence. Small glances and hushed giggles emanate from the women surrounding him, a response to the charismatic nature that so effortlessly seeped from Griffith’s presence.
Guts’ eyes dart from the scene to the small lady in an elegant dress who was approaching him. A good enough excuse to stop starring(as to why he needed one, Guts rather not dwell on that thought.)
The young woman who approached him was tender with her steps. Small strides and soft footfalls as if her every move was designed to gush elegance in her wake. Her eyes looked up to the much taller man, his gruff features not dissuading the wonderment that touched her soft brown pupils. “Sir… Guts was it?”
“Heh, I ain't no noble” Guts' response was short and curt.
“Ah, so Guts it is then.” The stark amazement never left her eyes as her lips began to move again, “sorry to intrude, but was not all of the Band of The Hawk risen to nobility after your latest victorious campaign?” The words left her mouth with a slight tilt to her head.
“Nah that honor was only given to Mr. Boss man over there,” Guts’ eyes quickly dart to the small crowd admiring his commander. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I dont want a title. I simply swing my sword for him.”
“Tch, such a shame.” Her posture deflated for nothing more than a moment before renewed vigor entered her being, “I guess if you are a simple commoner then the airs I’ve adopted can drop for only a moment.”
In an instance, this young noble closed the gap between them. Guts’ breath hitched at the advance, his personal space invaded without so much as a second thought. Her small frame was dwarfed by the much larger man but anyone on the outside of this situation could see it was her who held the keys. Guts wide eyes, taken aback by the sudden confidence on display, could only stare into her now cold and hard brown eyes. Determination… no, hunger had tainted the soft pupils he saw only a moment ago.
“Let me make myself clear,” desire was dripping from every word she uttered, “I’ve known about you for a time now Guts. The raider captain of the illustrious Band of the Hawk. A man who has not met an equal in the art of battle. I wish for you to accompany me, not only for the night but as a retainer for the Grand House of MacTavish.”
Guts was astonished. Warmth flushed his face, his mouth so softly agape at the performance that was on display. He had been approached countless times to be a hired arm for a noble family. They would employ a myriad of tactics to draw the solemn man in. The promise of riches, women, power, and everything else under the sun they could think of to pique his interest. But this was new. This yearning desire that shined from her was almost suffocating.
“Lady, listen-” but his gruff voice was stopped before he could even finish his sentence.
“Am I interrupting something?” Griffith’s silver smooth voice sliced through the air like the saber he had at his hip. His blue irises lingered on Guts for but a moment before refocusing on the lady before him.
“Ah, lord Griffith,” if she was surprised by his presence then her voice dared not confirm it. “I was simply inquiring if Mr. Guts was interested in offering his services to the Grand House of MacTavish.” Her words were soft now as if what had happened mere moments ago was nothing but a trick of the light.
Griffith's mouth turned upwards yet the smile never reached his unwavering eyes. A small giggle escaped his lips, “This man? This brute? You want him to be a bodyguard for the MacTavish household?” His teasing tone made Guts grumble under his breath.
“Yes,” was her curt response. “I see no brute before me, “ Guts could feel her gaze return to him and it sent a shiver down his spine. “Your captain is of great renown. He has earned honor in the flames of battle. Defending Midland with his very body he has known nothing but victory.”
“While what you say is indeed true I am afraid that he is still under my banner, “ Griffith’s voice was steady and even. “I cannot allow an asset of such interesting qualities to slip through my fingers that easily Lady MacTavish.”
“And I cannot simply allow a man like this to meet his untimely end in the throws of armies,” Lady MacTavish's hands enclosed around her chest, her head shifting slightly down, “surely you understand Lord Griffith? My heart would splinter if I could not offer him respite from the battlefield.” She pleaded with the commander earnestly.
“I'm afraid we’re at an impasse, Lady MacTavish,” Griffith said with a sigh
“That we are, Lord Griffith,” her eyes did not relent. She showed no sign of backing down now.
The silence that permeated the trio was anything but peaceful. Guts recognized the battle he saw forming before him. Mind you, him being the cause of this battle was baffling to him. The pushy noble was akin to a battling ram. She forced excuses and diversions to die horribly at her hand. She was a wolf that smelled blood in the air, letting go was never an option. But Griffith was headstrong as he was valiant. He never bowed to men many times his size, so even the likes of a great noble will not dissuade him.
“Actually, I was mistaken,” Griffith broke the silence with a sly smile. “This is not an impasse, it is simply a fork in the road” He took a small step forward, inching closer to the noble while never taking his eyes off her.
“What do you mean by that?” Her eyes matched his, but they began to widen as she saw the stark blue pupils of a man determined to keep what was his .
“You see, on one path of this road, me and my captain will take our leave. We shall be thankful for your interest but unfortunately have to deny your heart’s request,” the mirth that laced his small smile was like a pillow affixed to the blunt edge of a war hammer. “And you shall walk the other path, taking your womanly worries and holding them to the vacuous vessel you call your heart. Remembering, that as much as you want, you may not get everything you desire. Some people are simply out of reach.”
Guts let the tiniest of grins bless his face at the Lady’s shocked face. Her expression was a moment worth capturing. Like Icarus learning waxen wings may not stand up to heat, Lady MacTavish was quickly taught that the warmth Griffith imbues can easily burn. Guts turned his eyes to the man in question, that smile never leaving his face. “How dare you-!” The woman started but was swiftly cut off by Griffith moving towards Guts.
“Come now let’s go,” Griffith's hands slightly brushed Guts’ arms as he turned to leave. Guts instantly went to pull back from the physical contact, sparking electricity jumping through his body at the soft fingers that graced his bicep but he was caught off guard at the slender hand that enclosed his. His face quickly dyed red at the intimate touch. His commander's hands were soft yet firm, missing the callouses of battle that were ever-present in his own hands. He didn't have time to dwell on this as he was pulled from the ballroom out into the cold autumn air.
The crispy air that touched Guts’ face was a pleasant alternative to the stuffy atmosphere of the grand hall. The morning dew is barely evident in the foliage that surrounds the two men as Guts half-walks half-dragged to the patio overlooking the forest that borders this estate. The pale moonlight illuminated their every step as the duo walked the cobblestone path. Griffith now letting go of Guts’ hand slowly stopped his stride and took in the view of the forest beneath them. He scanned the tall trees and small shrubbery that dotted the land, the calm quiet of nature slowly drowning out the murmuring of people in the room behind them.
Guts stared at his hand that was once embraced, quickly looking up from it to stare at the man who had touched him. The moonlight lit up Griffith’s features as if it were made solely for him. His silver locks shined bright, encompassing his pale skin in a wreath of ethereal beauty. His stained pink lips were parted slightly to let a breath escape. His slender figure fit his noble attire too well like his being born common was a cosmic mistake that was fated to be corrected. But none of that captured Guts’ attention quite like Griffith’s lavish blue eyes. They were turned on him and he was enraptured by them. Hard as steel, cold as ice, no simple cliche could quite describe the way his sight bore into Guts’ soul. It stole his breath like it was a debt to be paid. Guts’ mind was repeating one word over and over with fervent desire.
“Beautiful”
“That woman was certainly persistent, wasn’t she?” Griffith said as his eyes still bore deep into Guts.
“Huh..” Guts shook his head, breaking his trance and pushing the thoughts that plagued his mind away. “She was a pushy bitch,” he quickly added garnering a smirk from Griffith.
“That she was,” he agreed. “But I can respect her attempt.”
“Why do you say that?” Guts inquired
“She knew what she wanted, and she wasn't willing to let it go.” A full smile dawned on Griffith once more, “hell if I wasn't there I dare say she would have had you in her chambers by now.”
“As if” Guts’ retorted as the warmth blessed his cheeks with a fiery vengeance. “I noticed that hunger right away. I was going to tell her to back off and then you decided to step in.”
Griffith let a laugh escape his lips, “of course, of course.” He stepped forward, facing his body towards Guts “I just thought I would lend a hand. You were never that good with your words.”
“Tsk, I don’t need your charity Griffith,” words passed his lips before he could truly put thought behind them. “I can take care of myself just fine. I dont need you to step in and make a scene just to get one sutor to piss off.” The words were somewhat harsh but Guts thought they were necessary. Griffith had spent too damn long climbing too many social ladders just to toss it away because one of his men was in an uncomfortable situation.
Griffith seemed to not mind the harsh words as he approached Guts, every step inching him closer to the larger man. “Oh, I completely agree,” his voice took on an unfamiliar characteristic. It seemed to be more direct. Like he was dictating a fact rather than sharing an opinion. “I still believe that what I said was completely necessary.”
Guts huffed, not even realizing the smaller man had closed the distance between them considerably, “and why do you think that?”
“Because,” Guts now realized how close they had gotten as Griffith’s hands came up and lightly touched his face. “I needed to remind everyone,” His voice was low, almost a growl as the air passed those lush lips. Guts’ head was pulled down to meet Griffith’s, soft hands on his cheeks embracing him ever so gently. “That you,” his lips quivered as the inches between them became centimeters. “Belong,” He could smell the desire, almost taste the bounty that awaited him. “To me.”
Griffith leaned forward first, his lips taking to the taller man’s like moths to a candle. Guts was stunned for not more than a second as he closed his eyes and gave into the fire that welled up inside of him. He kissed back, savoring the taste of their joint union. Guts’ hands moved on their own, running themselves down the arch of Griffith’s back, taking in every curve they could find before settling on his hips. Guts pushed forward, desperately trying to deepen their locked lips. Guts’ mind was ablaze with color. Pink, silver, white, red, none of it made any sense but it felt right nonetheless.
Griffith leaned back first, their lips breaking apart. The cold air stung, the warmth of their tender embrace already missed. They shared a ragged, almost panting breath as the two men would not dare break eye contact. “I-,” Griffith was shushed with a kiss.
“Dont worry,” Guts said as he ended the kiss, his face stained a brilliant pigment of red. “I'm yours, and only yours.”