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When Ferrus first handed Fulgrim an uncut piece of amethyst, Fulgrim thanked him politely and tucked it into his robes. Then, as soon as he was alone, he took out the stone and clutched it to his chest, hearts racing.
On Chemos, rock containing semiprecious minerals was abundant such that anyone, including the lowliest factory worker, could get their hands on some if they so desired. Getting it cut into a gemstone, on the other hand, was much more difficult for the average Chemosian. As a result, it became common practice when courting to gift uncut stones in lieu of jewelry. As a child, Fulgrim had seen blushing youths handing each other rough chunks of quartz and tourmaline, and found it terribly romantic.
Did Ferrus know what his gift meant? Were his intentions truly romantic in nature, or had he simply come across the rock somewhere in his conquests and thought his friend might find some use with it?
Fulgrim could ask, but that came with the risk of rejection and mockery. Instead, he decided to stand back and wait to see what happened next. Ferrus’ next actions would give him his answer. In the meantime, he kept the amethyst close to him, occasionally clutching it in one hand and thrilling at the fantasy of being wooed by the Gorgon.
Several weeks later, Fulgrim stared down at his desk, which was strewn with uncut amethysts of all shapes and sizes.
After the first gift, Ferrus had given him another stone the next day. Then another three days later. And two more the day after. And so on, until Fulgrim had to leave some amethysts behind before he started rattling around everywhere he walked.
This wasn’t in line with Chemos’ courting tradition, which limited gifting to a single stone instead of dozens spread over an extended period of time. Maybe Ferrus had just found a mineral deposit on one of the worlds he’d recently conquered, and was giving the amethysts to Fulgrim as someone who would appreciate their beauty more than his plain, practical brother did. But if that were the case, why not say so?
Fulgrim accepted every gift graciously, though even the emotionally dull Ferrus could probably sense his confusion by now. And yet he never said anything, simply handed each stone over silently and nodded as Fulgrim thanked him. And Fulgrim never asked what was going on, telling himself at first to wait until things became clearer on its own. Now at this point things had gone on for so long that to finally break the silence would make him look like a fool for not asking sooner.
Fulgrim’s eyes narrowed. He had been missing something. He had thought about all this from the perspective of a Chemos native. But what about Ferrus’ perspective as a man raised on Medusa?
Ferrus exited his chambers and was almost bowled over Fulgrim.
“Tell me, Gorgon,” Fulgrim demanded before Ferrus could open his mouth to greet his brother. “What are courting rituals like on Medusa?”
Ferrus blinked. His eyes fell to the armful of amethsyt rocks clutched in his arms, then the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Medusans prefer actions over words or trinkets. But the more civilized among them would gift objects that were precious to their loved one, continuing until their offer was accepted or rejected.”
With a growl, Fulgrim dropped his arms, letting the amethysts crash to the ground with a resounding clatter, before pouncing onto Ferrus and burying his face in his neck. “You could have told me sooner,” he scolded, unable to hide his flushed cheeks and the smile spreading across his face. “I was going mad trying to figure out your intentions.”
Ferrus laughed and wrapped his arms around Fulgrim. “I took the initiative by reading up on what you do on Chemos, and I expected you to do the same for me,” he teased, grinning as Fulgrim puffed up his cheeks in faux-anger. “So, what’s your answer, Phoenix? Because I only have so much free time to go about rummaging around mineral deposits for you.”
Fulgrim grabbed Ferrus’ chin and pulled him in for a kiss. When they finally drew back again, Fulgrim reached out and took the first amethyst from his robes, the one he had kept on him since the day it was gifted to him.
“My answer to you will always be yes.”
(Over the next few days, Fulgrim disappeared into his workshop. He finally emerged with a pair of silver rings, each set with the most exquisitely cut stones of deepest violet.)