Jedediah and Octavius sat on a quiet windowsill, the window open as flakes of white fell from the clouds. Despite this, the full moon shone, illuminating both of their faces. They were both in their simple clothes so armour and spurs wouldn’t get in the way.
“…I wrote you a poem.” Octavius came out with, his warm hand clutching the leather glove of the other man, smiling a little. “I usually get my personal poet to help but I did this on my own.” He unrolled a scroll he had been keeping in his scabbard, his sword at home.
Jed raised an eyebrow. “I knew you Romans were romantic but sheesh… Go on then.” He rolled his eyes. “Lay it on me."
Octavius cleared his throat, a lump forming in it and butterflies almost causing his stomach to rupture. He began speaking in Latin but soon stopped and corrected himself, speaking English.
"Your hair as gold
As the sunlight my eyes will never see.
Grace my heart
With the bold words you speak t