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Spear met spear in a clash of sound, echoing around the cage. The practice weapons rang hollow, an echo of the grand weapons the current duo were used to wielding. Valdor ducked back as Sanguinius lashed out with a sweep of his wing, and brought his spear up to bear as Sanguinius circled him once more.
When Sanguinius had offered the challenge, Valdor had thought it was a jest - something about some rumor of him beating a younger Lupercal. The Great Angel had persisted however, and since Valdor was not in the habit of lying to himself, he didn't bother to deny the quiet thrill at matching blades with the Lord of the Ninth.
Another flurry of blows and Valdor struggled to stay balanced, giving more ground than he had intended.
Valdor was not a being prone to shallow emotions, many thought that meant he did not have them, but that wasn't true. As far as he had gathered, others felt emotions quicker, deeper, and more ephemerally, but he still experienced them, even if he'd observed a wider range in others than in himself.
Pride was one he knew. Valdor wore his many victories as a mantle, a heavy one no doubt, but one woven of certainty. Perhaps some would see that as arrogant, but he was simply aware of what he was - a gene crafted pinnacle of humanity, specifically chosen by the God Emperor of Mankind to serve Him and His people. The idea that he could feel in any way inadequate was unexpected, yet all his deeds and history faded away next to Sanguinius.
Sanguinius, individually apart from his brothers. Valdor respected some, tolerated others among the Primarchs, but Sanguinius was something else entirely. He had known that, felt it, from the moment he had first laid eyes on him, faceless in his place next to the Emperor.
From that vantage point, he had seen the Angel's intelligence and skill. Witnessed how he had transformed the legion given to him, made it beautiful in his image. He had further observed how kind the Primarch could be, walking among the Imperium's subjects, regal perfection cut with a gentleness not many warriors possessed -
Pain grounded Valdor, focusing him back on the fight as the tip of Sanguinius’ practice spear caught him in the shoulder. Such a trivial injury was nothing to him, and he attempted to use the Primarch's proximity to his advantage, almost succeeding in landing an answering blow. Almost.
The Lord of the Ninth was truly a king among kings, as the old saying went, but Valdor knew there was a side to him that was kept shrouded from the Imperium. Valdor could see it in moments like this, how his opponents eyes lit up with the thrill of the fight, the way his pink tongue darted out over soft lips….Valdor shook his head, adjusted the grip on his spear, and lunged forwards.
Now was not the time to try to make sense of the feelings recent proximity to Sanguinius had been bringing up. It had started when he realized the Blood Angel's Lord had begun to seek his company, and Valdor felt that same thrill that led him to this match at the realization. It felt similar to when he sought approval from the Emperor, yet different. Something kin to adoration and longing, but - not.
Frustration amplified the blow, causing metal to sing once more as Sanguinius effortlessly blocked. They were close, so very close, bodies almost pressed together before Sanguinius sprang away, teeth bared in a grin, leaving Valdor oddly off balance.
Sanguinius doesn't wait for him to recover, springing forwards to push the perceived advantage. Half a breath and Valdor sees an opening. In the reckless attack, Sanguinius had exposed his flank, his ribs, to the tip of Valdor's spear. It would surely land true, piercing the angles side. He imagined it, and realized he found the idea of spilling the Angle's blood as abhorrent as spilling the Emperor's. And there was no time to flip his weapon to the blunt end, so -
Sanguinius tackled him, knocking him off his feet easily when he had failed to react. His back hits the ground, spear clattering from his hand, and there was a moment of nothing but soft, sweet smelling golden hair, and a warm strong body on his. Then Sanguinius is sitting up, laughing and tossing his hair back. He doesn't seem to notice or care that he's straddling Valdor's hips, or that his hand rests in the middle of the Custodian's chest.
Sanguinius smiles down at him, eyes bright with a joy Valdor had rarely seen them possess. It…eases something in his chest, even if the mirth is at his expense.
“You faltered, Captain-General. I must admit I'm curious as to why?” The words are spoken in a manner that is lighthearted, teasing, but the question feels like the answer will have weight, and Valdor finds himself at a loss. Unsure of what to say, he settles on the truth, “I could not bring myself to risk spilling your blood, Lord.”
Sanguinius looks surprised for a moment, before a softer smile graces his features, “Do I remind you of Father that much?”
The tone is still light, but tinged with a melancholy he did not understand.
“You remind me of Him, at times, but I do not believe that is what stayed my hand.”
Sanguinius leaned forwards, ever so slightly, garnet eyes staring at him with an intensity he could not understand, “You must have had some reason? Surely besting another Primarch would be quite the accomplishment - even in a setting so informal as this.”
Valdor can't help but huff, a gesture akin to a scoff from a more expressive person. “That - I have never beaten Lupercal in any combat forms, a Rememberer's error that seems to unfortunately delight your brother.”
Surprise flits across Sanguinius' features for the second time that night before he's grinning again, “All the more reason to have taken your opportunity to fell a Primarch”, he teased, voice full of gently self depreciating grandiosity, before he's leaning much closer, his hair once more brushing over Valdor's face, “So, tell me why you didn't.”
Sanguinius seemed to be looking for a specific answer, and not wanting to disappoint, Valdor thought through all his musings while sparring, all the interactions before that, and now, with the wight of the Angel on his chest.
“To harm you would have felt like driving the spear through my own flesh."
Sanguinius watched him for a moment, expression inscrutable. Valdor feared that was the wrong answer for a moment, before Sanguinius leaned down, closing the gap between them, and pressing his lips to the side of Valdor's mouth. The kiss is sweet, and lingers for a moment too long to be considered chaste, and Valdor feels himself fall to it like it's the most natural thing in the world.
The moment passes and Sanguinius pulls back, and it it takes every shred of Valdor's conditioning not to try to rise with him and press their lips together once more. Though prehapse restraint is the wrong approach here, as Sanguinius looks uncertain, "Was that, alright?”
“How could your favor ever be accepted with anything less then the deepest gratitude?”
Sanguinius smiles at that, but shakes his head, "I mean did you like it?"
"Throne, yes -" the feeling behind his words startled Valdor, but Sanguinius' face had brightened again, and Valdor found himself wishing he had some talent with the arts so he could preserve the look he was being graced with. Then he wondered when the last time he had wished for something was.
"Perhaps this seems sudden, or ill advised, but during my visits here at Terra, I've come to greatly appreciate your company and counsel. I had no intention of being this forward, but it seemed as good a time as any to ask if our meetings could become more…regular, and perhaps more…personal as well?” Sanguinis continues after a moment.
Valdor nodded, struck by what it seemed he was being offered. After a moment, Sanguinius’ sturdy, capable hands are gently cupping Valdor's face, tilting his jaw so they are gazing at each other eye to eye, “Can you say it for me, Constantin?”
“I -", Valdor stops, then starts again after a moment, "I would be honored to spend more time in your presence,” it's not enough, but he cannot find the words, so he decides to try action. Strangly unsure of himself, Valdor takes one of Sanguinius’ hands in his, moving it so he could press his lips to the Primarch's palm, then press his face into it.
He feels Sanguinius’ breath hitch, and hears his wings tremble, feathers whispering together. He's afraid he's made a misstep as Sanguinius takes his hand away, but then his lips are against Valdor's once more, and on instinct Valdor is reaching up to slide his fingers through Sanguinius’ hair. It's so much deeper then the first, more tender emotion welling up in his chest, and when they part Sanguinius is flushed, eyes dilated.
“We should - we should continue this somewhere more private, would you agree?”
Valdor nods at the assessment, “Wholeheartedly my lord.”
Sanguinius tilts his head slightly at the term of address, "Perhaps now would be the time to begin forgoing such formalities?”
Constantin considers for a moment, then “Of course, my angel.”