Marcus woke to the unpleasant sensation of his leg being torn apart- or that's what it felt like, at least. He bit his lip to stop from crying out and balled his hands into fists, willing the pain away. After several agonizing minutes, the pain seemed to peter out and Marcus was able to relax once more. He glanced out the window. It was still dark outside, signaling the middle of the night. How annoying that he was up at this time, and not feeling particularly sleepy.
Marcus shut his eyes regardless, not wanting to be tired tomorrow. Tomorrow there would be people to speak to, his leg to be taken care of, and a useless slave to command. Marcus supposed it was better than having nothing to command… Or about the same experience.
Seeing as sleep was currently escaping him, Marcus rolled onto his side and tried to think of happier times. The struggle his mind went through to try and recapture those moments only depressed him more, and restless, the roman stood and stretched his limbs. A quick circuit around the dark grounds would serve to ease his mind; to tire his body. Then he could fall asleep once more and leave his anxieties behind for the night.
Marcus walked to the front of the house, passing through the various sitting rooms; dining rooms… The library… The meeting room… It was slow-going through every chamber as Marcus limped as carefully as he could manage. The thought that no one could see him now gave him some relief, at least- on those few occasions that his uncle prodded him into leaving the house, Marcus had been determined to make his gait one of a man who had never incurred the injury he had- the man he once was. All that had accomplished was that he had almost hurt himself again, and made a spectacle in the marketplace.
Marcus came to a stop at the front door, catching his breath. The walk hadn't been physically tiring by any means- but every time Marcus landed on his bad leg wrong, the pain made his chest tight, making it harder to breathe. He cast a look out the nearest window, taking in the calm of the outside world. He closed his eyes and wished that he could absorb that peace; let it wash over him and smother his pride.
Marcus opened his eyes and his leg was still injured and he didn't feel very peaceful at all.
Marcus took a different route back to his bedroom, passing by the other bedchambers. There were four, including his. His uncle slept in one, and Esca slept in another. The slaves' was the smallest of the chambers, sparsely furnished with a bed and a small table, where Esca kept his meager possessions.
Marcus shook his head as he neared the slaves' room, a distinct feeling of annoyance washing over him. He disliked interacting with Esca- Marcus never knew what to say, or how to direct him… Or what to really even do with him. In the past, Marcus never had his own slaves, because he didn't have much need for them. His uncle had insinuated that Marcus could use the extra help now that he was… How had his uncle put it? 'Incapacitated.' The thought made Marcus even less willing to make use of the slaves' help. If anything, the roman-
- froze in the corridor, a few feet away from Esca's door. What was that noise just now? Marcus narrowed his eyes and crept forward, straining his hearing.
Breaths. That's all it was. Unsteady sighs, interspersed with sudden gasps for air. As Marcus neared the slaves' room, more noises became apparent- they were faint, but Marcus recognized them well enough.
It seemed by now he would even be used to it- it had been a common issue in the various army barracks Marcus had spent most of his life in- but the roman still couldn't stop the warmth in his cheeks. Men had needs and if there were no one suitable enough to help take care of those needs, then it made sense for a man to take matters into his own hands. Literally enough.
But most had the common decency to keep it well under wraps, didn't they? Marcus grimaced. Perhaps things were different where Esca was raised. Or not, Marcus thought, as common sense made an appearance in his overcrowded mind. Esca was in the privacy of his own room, in the middle of the night- how was he to know that his master would be stalking the halls at this hour and eavesdropping on him?
Marcus hurried off to his own room as quietly as he could. What a mess. Why had he stood there so long in the first place?! Perhaps he was sleepier than he thought. Overtired. Marcus laid down on his bed and settled into the most comfortable position he could manage. He shut his eyes. He did feel tired. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he knew he wouldn't be awake much longer.