Adoleo, a rurouni kenshin fanfic

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is not and never will be mine… Sad but true.

AN: A new idea that crept up on me whilst I was revising for my Classical Civilisation exam. The exams are now over and I had a little free time so I thought I'd share it with everyone and see what you guys thought. It's set (loosely) in Augustan Rome (and please bear in mind the entire scope of my knowledge comes from reading the Aeneid, so is very patchy at best) and stars Kaoru as a priestess of Minerva and Kenshin an ex-commander from the civil wars, favoured by Mars. As with Utopia, this is something entirely new to me, so con-crit welcomed and I'd love to know what you think!

Chapter One

"It started many years ago with the fall of a dictator. Civil wars raged as Octavian, Julius Caesar's adopted son, fought off traitors and those disloyal to Rome. Oaths were made and broken, trust given and lost, battles waged and won and amongst it all there appeared a soldier, slave of origin but fiercely loyal to Rome, who fought his way through the ranks, earning honour after honour in dedication to the Republic. Octavian valued him above any other on the battlefield, his strength and speed struck fear in the heart of any enemy he faced; they say he fought off entire legions alone.

"Eyes like the flame pits of hell, hair like the blood soaked robes of Mars; they say he moved faster than light, godlike speed rivalled only by Mercury. He was tireless, killing more men in a single attack than most officers managed in a lifetime; they said he was blessed with death. His sword was faster than Jupiter's lightening, more deadly too. He killed without mercy, with the cold heart of a god.

"For anyone else such claims would be hubris, but he is the son of Mars! Brother to our great ancestor Romulus! He fights with the fury of the four winds, with the fury of Mars, who stands beside him in every battle. They call him Battousai; he moves faster than sight. On land and sea, the only ones with a hope of winning against him would have to be divine. He routed the barbarian hoards in the North, quelled rebellions in the West and stood with Octavian himself against Anthony's forces of the East in the great battle of Actium. Cleopatra fled in fear of his blade and before long even Egypt fell to him and Caesar.

"It was by his sword that our current peace was achieved, the Gates of War swung shut and across Rome commanders became politicians, soldiers became farmers and little boys learnt rhetoric in place of swordplay. It was time for peace, a new Golden Age and the Republic prospered, but there was one man, hounded by his past, who did not trade his sword for pen or plough; he wandered on, through lands of gods unknown, people unconquered-"

The priest dropped his lofty tone and grinned at her, "and now he's coming here!"

Dumfounded she stared at the young apprentice; he was practically quivering with excitement. "A soldier?"

He looked aghast, "A soldier, a mere soldier? This man-" he lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper, "this could defeat Caesar himself in a duel." Growing excited his tone grew in both pitch and volume, "He's not just a soldier, he's a legend! They say he's possessed by the divine fury of Mars! They say he could outrun cavalry, that he took on entire legions alone! And he's coming here, to sacrifice to our Minerva, at our temple! Can you believe it? Himura the Battousai! Here!"

That last exclamation drew the attention of Yahiko, a favourite slave of the high priest, "Commander Himura?" he demanded in awe, dashing over to scrub the floor closer to where the young priest was standing.

The young man, happy to recount his tale to anyone, slave or not, began again, delighted to have a more responsive audience. Shaking her head at the boys' excitement Kaoru stepped back into the temple, kneeling before the altar of her goddess. It wasn't that she wasn't excited by the idea of military victories, indeed, the part of her that devoted four hours of every day practising swordplay in dedication to Minerva was desperate to meet this legendary Battousai and witness for herself just how fast he fought, but on a deeper level she took to heart the teachings of her father, that swords were not for war but the protection of the weak. That deeper part of her couldn't help but distain the stories of mass slaughter on the blade of that one man, power like that was too easily corrupted and instead of staying in Rome, bettering the city as Octavian, now called Augustus Caesar, had, he had been off across the Empire, no doubt throwing his weight around to get more wealth and status than he deserved.

Octavian had pulled the Roman Republic out of years of civil war with his defeat of Anthony at Actium and in this peace he promised to reinstate the legendary Golden Age of Saturn. Only a decade had passed since the fall of the East and already Rome was thriving, casting off its war-broken shell of brick and dirt, revealing monuments of marble. New temples sprung up throughout the city, it seemed they had a public holiday every week and morale among the citizens was an all time high. She was proud to be a Roman and prouder yet that the esteemed leader they had found in Augustus revered the sacred nature of peace that her father had once taught her to honour. Rome was becoming great again, not through war as the Battousai had risen, but through the culture and worship that Augustus preached.

And while Augustus had bought them closer to the gods, stopped the slaughter of innocents in the army, Battousai was off, trekking through Asia and Africa and the rest of the world, spreading his gift of war. She shouldn't have been surprised that he'd chosen Minerva to sacrifice to, she was after all the goddess of Warfare. Frowning slightly at the thought of the soon to be visiting mercenary she marched out into the sanctuary gardens for a round of sparring against whatever opponent she could find.

Ten minutes later found her dressed in a loose cotton sparring tunic, beating Misao into a corner with her favourite wooden sword.

"Kaoru," yelped the younger girl, after a particularly vicious swing, "I've got sweeping duty this evening and if I can't hold a broom I'll tell him it's your fault!"

Kaoru laughed but eased off slightly, incurring the wrath of their high priest was not high on her to do list. At a steadier pace the two girls worked through the ritual forms of the swordsmanship they learnt as part of their temple duties. As priestesses to Minerva, the maiden goddess of war, they needed to master various arts of war; they'd never be called to fight and the skills were only ever intended to have ceremonial use, but that did not stop them becoming quite adept with their favoured weapon. Kaoru preferred the traditional long sword used by the legions while Misao excelled in hand-to-hand and knife fighting but they were closer matched to each other than any of the other temple girls. Most of their peers suffered through the martial aspects of their duties without relishing them the way Kaoru and Misao did.

By the time the bell was rung for dinner both girls were sweating and near exhausted from their training. Changing quickly back into their white temple robes they dashed into the dining chamber just in time to avoid a lecture from the high priest. He made some lofty prayer to their patron goddess that Kaoru only half listened to before pouring half his wine onto the floor in libation and signalling for them all to do the same. The sound of the diners all emptying their cups onto the tiles was followed immediately by the chorus of chattering voices as the girls talked around mouthfuls of their meals. The high priest had left and would no doubt be dining with his apprentice, the young man who'd told Kaoru of the Battousai's upcoming visit.

Remembering the initial reason for her particularly violent sparring match Kaoru leant over to recount the story to Misao. The younger girl looked, if possible, more excited than Yahiko had.

"Himura the Battousai! He was at Actium, wasn't he? I heard that Caesar valued him as much as Agrippa, that he even offered him Agrippa's role as general, but got turned down!"

Kaoru couldn't help but laugh at Misao's enthusiasm; the girl talked more about war and fighting than most young boys.

"Don't be ridiculous, Misao, no one would turn down Caesar."

"But he did!" she leant over to whisper in Kaoru's ear, "Don't tell anyone, I don't want the priest knowing, but I was talking to one of the delivery boys from the farm," Kaoru looked at her, shocked (though not nearly as much as she should be), they weren't supposed to speak to males that weren't visiting the temple for the goddess, "and he said that his brother had been talking to the boss's son who'd been fighting during the war and was at Actium and he heard from his commander that Caesar just laughed when Himura turned him down!"

She took a much-needed breath and gave Kaoru her well-what-do-you-think-of-that look, smugly setting into her bread when Kaoru didn't respond.

"What do you think he'll look like?" she asked once she'd swallowed. "I heard he was supposed to be Mars reborn in mortal flesh."

Mentally recounting the numerous likenesses of Mars she'd seen Kaoru wrinkled her nose, "He was a slave once. Apparently they picked him up in the far north, somewhere near Britannia."

"So he's a barbarian?" whispered Misao, wide eyed. "I can't see Augustus favouring a barbarian."

"But if he's related to Mars then there's not much even Augustus could do about it," she pointed out.

"True…" Misao looked thoughtful. "So, do you think he's going to be really tall? Aren't all barbarians, like, seven feet tall and three men wide?"

By the end of their meal they imagined him to look less like Mars and more like a six-armed, fanged, flame haired giant that ate human flesh and were both uncertain whether to be excited or terrified of the prospect of his upcoming visit.

The temple was a modest building set in the heart of a simple sanctuary just within the walls of the city. The main sanctum of Minerva, containing the temple fires and the likeness of the goddess herself, was made of white marble, but the rest consisted of simple brick buildings. His eyes passed over the temple priestesses' small training ground before coming to rest on the bowed heads of two veiled priests.

"Commander Battousai Himura, it is an honour-"

"Please, priest, my name is Kenshin."

Startled, the younger of the two looked up before snapping his eyes straight back to the ground, "Apologies, Commander Kenshin Battousai Himura-"

"No," he couldn't help the small smile that tugged his lips, "Just Kenshin Himura will be fine."

He priest stammered some more before his master took over with an apologetic tone, leading him into the temple.

It was the same as it always was, temple fire glowing in the darkness, cool air tangy with the faintest taste of smoke; and rows of priestesses, dressed in that universal white robe, standing, heads bowed in respect to such a famous guest. Even in the city of Rome he was treated like a king.

"Commander," the first priestess dipped into a curtsey as he stepped past her, heading towards the centre of the temple. He nodded to her; he'd always disliked the ceremony.

"Commander," the next girl ducked her head.

"Commander."

The priest was walking along beside him, if Kenshin didn't know any better he'd have said the old man was lurking.

"If you intend to make your visits regular, as you suggested," the man spoke up, "Perhaps I may recommend you choose a girl to be your personal aide? I have found that our richer patrons certainly like that more personal touch."

Kenshin turned looked at the old man. At his lack of immediate response the man bowed several times before talking faster, as though trying to dig himself out of a hole.

"That is – if you'd like it. I'm not sure how it works in, India… or Carthage, I heard you visited Carthage? But it was just a thought. Silvia is a favourite with the local lord!" he pulled a petite girl out of the line. She looked terrified.

Kenshin raised an eyebrow.

"Or perhaps you'd like to chose? Lydia is very well liked," he suggested.

"Erm… If that is the common practice here, I won't object…" he trailed off as the relieved looking priest dragged another girl over. He was really only here to sacrifice, pay his respects for a few weeks and leave. Whatever money or status the old priest seemed to think he'd get out of him, he was only going to be disappointed. Scanning line of robed girls as the priest listed each of their merits he felt the old tug of memory eat at him. As if the constant hounding wasn't enough, his endless attempts to break the curse, to win the goddess's favour, bought him into the firing line of more and more painful reminders of the past.

"Camilla here has a beautiful voice, perhaps if you'd ask her she'd sing for you?"

Dark eyes eyed him shyly from behind a light veil and he very nearly flinched.

He smiled and nodded as the priest moved on to the next girl, shoulders tense but the rest of him seeming perfectly at ease and in control of the situation. The priest noticed nothing.

His eyes trailed the row, seeing in each gently bowed head the face he'd dedicated the past years of his life to trying to forget, the same white robes, the same light cotton veils, the same dark hair, the same dark eyes-

He blinked and looked back.

Two people from the end of the line was a girl not wearing temple robes at all, not looking shy and not looking happy. Flushed red with apparent anger she rolled her eyes at him.

Blue eyes.

This girl could dance beautifully, this one weave- Weave? What good was that to him? He was here to sacrifice a bull, for Mars' sake!

Her initial shock at the Battousai's unusual appearance wore off immediately when she saw the approach their priest was apparently set on taking. He moved down the row acting like some kind of pimp! And the girls were acting little better as they eyed the commander, all coy stares and fluttering eyelashes. Kaoru felt herself bristle.

The display was sickening; she appreciated that they needed all the funding they could get, that befriending a man this close to the great Imperator would do wonders for their poor temple, but really, had the priest no shame?

To make matters worse, when he reached her he simply ground his teeth and bit out her name with venom that would have terrified her had she not been so angry. If he hadn't moved straight on to the next girl without so much as a word to her name she swore she would have stuck her tongue out, regardless of the lashings and days worth fire duty she would doubtless get. Her eyes snapped back to the Commander, certain she heard him chuckle, but when she looked he was just nodding politely and smiling calmly at whatever the priest had to say about Misao.

Commander Himura had turned up half an hour earlier than expected and she'd had to dash back in from where she'd been training with Yahiko. With the high priest so distracted preparing himself for the 'big visit' as Misao had dubbed it, he hadn't noticed his slave sneak out to get a quick lesson in swordplay. Taken into slavery at a relatively young age, Yahiko had always wanted to learn to fight, but short of becoming a gladiator (a fate she'd wish upon no one) he'd never have the chance. At first his pride hadn't taken too well to learning from a girl, but soon enough they'd build up a pretty decent friendship. They hadn't noticed the sound of Himura's horse arriving and it was only Misao screeching for her to get in line that alerted her to his appearance. She'd been in such a panic she'd barely remembered to grab her veil, and now, standing in the row of beautifully preened priestesses, all in matching white robes and veils she stood out like a sore thumb. A very dirty, sweaty sore thumb. Wearing a sparring tunic.

The anger was beginning to lose its battle against fear. The priest was going to have her beaten for this.

"So," the priest, having reached the end of the line, looked a little uncomfortable, "Kenshin Himura," that lack of title must have been requested, it seemed to make the old man itch, "Who would you like to serve you today?"

Yes, Mr Battousai, will it be the dancer, the singer or the weaver? Honestly… Just don't pick Misao, we'd never hear the end of it.

She rolled her eyes as Kenshin glanced back up and down the row. They were all essentially the same and he knew it, he was either humouring the priest or deliberately trying to irritate her. Probably the former.

Glancing up at Minerva's likeness she resisted the urge to roll her eyes again as the girl next to her puffed up proudly. But then she slumped. Kaoru looked at her to see what the problem was but received only a none-too-subtle glare. Confused, Kaoru turned back to the Commander and the high priest and promptly felt all colour drain from her face.

A pair of stunning violet eyes settled on her.

"Miss Kaoru, was it?"

She felt weak. Forget beaten. The priest was going to have her killed for this.

"I am so sorry."

She was on her knees in a back chamber, head bowed both to make it easier for Misao to twist her hair into the traditional knot required for the sacrifice and also as an excuse to not have to look at the high priest's livid expression.

"You stood- Paraded- Presented yourself in the presence of not only Our Lady Minerva, but also the Commander Battousai," he took a laboured breath, she could almost imagine the vein throbbing at his temple, "-dressed," he seemed to choke, "dressed in practice sparring clothes."

She swallowed evenly, he was in full rant mode, and besides, any argument on her part would only condemn Yahiko and she wasn't willing to let that happen. She'd just have to ride this one out.

"What must he have thought? A bunch of straggly barbarians! That's what you made us look like, Kaoru! Now, I've made exceptions, I've made so many exceptions for you, for you and your love of fighting, but this is taking it too far! You already exceed the practice time of any of the other girls, I allow you to spar while others fan incense, I allow you to replace your weapons when others get new robes, but this- this-" He paused, "You have dishonoured us. And not just this temple, but your father and our goddess, also. To stand before her likeness unclean, unpurified after the practice of her fighting arts," he shuddered, "I never thought I'd have to remind a priestess of this, but the chamber of Minerva is sacred ground. She is not patron of killing, she is-"

At that Kaoru's head snapped up, causing Misao to yelp and drop her hairpins, "I know that!" she snapped, offended, "She is the goddess of intellect, of tactical warfare, of war for the cause of peace! If I wanted to shed blood I'd serve in a temple of Mars!" she knew her argument was redundant, Mars had no priestesses, but her father had always taught her the difference; Minerva had never been a cruel goddess, hers was the warfare of progression, not bloodshed. She glared daggers at the priest until Misao practically forced her head down to break the confrontation.

She sighed, knowing her friend's demand from her body language. Frowning at the floor she bottled up her pride, "I apologise again, sir."

The priest grumbled and huffed a little more, leaving the room for her to purify herself in water Misao fetched from the spring before dressing in the same light white robes the other girls were wearing.

"There'll be hell to pay for this," she sighed, dumping her sparring uniform on a low stool, knowing her luck she'd be banned from practice for a month.

To her surprise Misao just grinned at her.

"You find my suffering amusing?"

The smaller girl reached up to adjust Kaoru's veil, laughing slightly, "I just don't know what the fuss you two are making is about."

Kaoru stared. The priest had been pretty explicit, with the dishonour and the embarrassment and the lack of the funding they so desperately needed.

"No, you know what I mean," Kaoru gave her a look that stated how clearly she didn't. "Well, Mr Battousai didn't seem to mind, did he?"

Kaoru blinked.

"If he'd had a problem with it, why that look when he saw you?"

"What look?"

Misao continued like she'd never been interrupted, "Why did he pick you out of all the rest of us pristinely dressed girls?" she grinned, "You don't know how they worship Minerva in Greece or Carthage or wherever, do you? Maybe they all run around in sparring tunics."

Kaoru looked dubious.

"Look, don't worry about it. You said it yourself, he's just a silly soldier, just go out there and do what you do best."

"What, swordfight?"

Misao giggled, "No! Serve Minerva! And smile, men like it when you smile."

Kaoru raised an eyebrow, when did Misao ever become the leading authority on what men liked?

"Besides," the younger girl said as she pushed her out the door, "I have a hunch…"

Kenshin was staring at the temple firelight as it reflected off the gilded horns of a large white ox when a door creaked open somewhere beyond the altar.

He heard a sharp intake of breath when the priestess he'd chosen stepped out like a spectre, it took him a few moments to realise it was his own. She curtsied first to the statue of the goddess and then to him. Dressed head to foot in white cotton she looked decidedly less like the stubborn fighter he'd seen earlier and more like the memory he longed so dearly to forget. He swallowed and turned back to the ox.

He high priest entered by another door, joining his apprentice alongside the sacrificial animal, placing a silver bowl and knife before Kenshin.

"So, you practice swordplay?" he asked, surprising the girl as she took his hands for the ritual cleansing necessary before he touched the sacrificial weapon. Her veiled face stared at him.

"Yes," she answered finally, turning back to his hands and cleaning them in the scented water. Her hands were gentle but slightly calloused from frequent use of a weapon. He watched their fingers under the water as she continued to speak, "and I am terribly sorry for my previous state of dress, I lost track of time in my training and didn't get the chance to change."

He felt the priest shift uncomfortably behind him, so that was why he was so cold to her…

He smiled, "That is no problem at all, Miss Kaoru, it's not often we see that aspect of Minerva worshiped these days."

To his surprise she gave him a look that could only be considered icy, before the old man piped in, "I think you'll find yourself pleasantly surprised, Comm- I mean, Kenshin Himura. Here in Rome Minerva is worshiped more as war patron than anywhere left in the world." He looked decidedly smug.

"It has indeed been a long time since I returned to Rome."

He had to admit he felt a little uncomfortable after that and her grip on his hands seemed deliberately less gentle. He couldn't quite work out what it was he'd said, so distracted himself with turning to look back up at the goddess's statue. As ever it provided little comfort.

"You are familiar with the rites of sacrifice?"

The priest's voice knocked him out of his reverie and he looked down to realise the priestess was drying his hands with a cotton cloth.

"Yes, priest, I have done this many times," he answered, wondering slightly at the shift of posture in the priestess before him. Was that a huff I saw?

The priest nodded, "Kaoru will guide you through the rites, I trust you will be able to control the beast," and with that he nodded, signalling to the apprentice to hand over the plaited rope that yoked the ox. All earlier hinting was gone from the high priest as he solemnly stepped back, bowing once more to Minerva before leaving, taking the apprentice with him; this was no longer to do with money, it was worship of the goddess. Kenshin knew well by now that the sacrifice he needed to perform could only take place in the presence of a virgin priestess who had sworn her life to Minerva, another twist of the knife in that old, old wound.

She looked up at him before delicately folding to kneel before the altar, head bowed in silent prayer. He followed suit, the white ox shifting slightly behind them.

For once Kaoru was grateful for the silly veil she had to wear in order to perform the sacrifice, without it her staring would be far more blatant.

She couldn't help it! In both build and complexion he was so unlike any soldier she'd ever seen! She'd been told he came from the barbarian lands in the north, but all the slaves she'd seen bought in from Britannia and the like were taller, heavier set with ruddy complexions; he was pale and slender as any woman. The only part of him that matched the rumours at all was his hair; flame red like the war god's bloodied sword.

She'd expected his eyes to be a fiery gold, but instead they glowed an unnatural amethyst purple, strangely gentle in the face of a legendary killer. She'd never seen eyes like that, where was the cold-hearted gaze that glued men's feet to the ground? In his eyes she saw only compassion and perhaps a little sorrow. He looked more like a man of religion than a warrior, especially as he veiled his head with the white hood left by the apprentice priest.

She had quite forgotten who he was until he said something about it being good to worship Minerva for war and she found herself having to forcibly remember that the hands she held had put out the lives of thousands of men. He was a killer, albeit a very pretty one.

They now knelt before the altar, him supplicating the goddess with whatever called him to sacrifice, her trying to be subtle as she glanced at what little of his face she could see through the priest's veil. There was a cross-shaped scar on his cheek, sharp lines adding a dangerous edge to that elegant, almost feminine face. He shifted, as if noticing her eyes on him and she snapped her head back forward, ignoring her blush as she made a show of studying the engravings on the sacrificial dagger.

He finished his prayer, standing fluidly and tugging the white animal forward. And then he did something unexpected; he turned to her and smiled. And then she handed him the knife and he thanked her.

The animal didn't even have the chance to accept terror before its throat was cut. She wasn't sure she even saw the knife move (and that was because it was fast, damn it, not because she was too busy looking at his face). The ox fell to its knees without so much as a whimper. She'd been witnessing animal sacrifices everyday since the death of her father led to her enrolment in the temple and not once had she seen such a painless passing. Perhaps the apprentice had been right; maybe he really was blessed with death.

He was already pressing the silver bowl to the wound at the ox's neck, catching its life's blood as it ebbed out. That was her job, but did not seem phased by doing it himself; it made her wonder how many of these sacrifices he'd performed alone. He was speaking lowly under his breath, prayer she presumed, but the language wasn't Latin, which made her wonder. It sounded almost Greek, but she thought he was from the North…

She watched silently as he let the animal's head fall; the bleeding had stopped. His knuckles were white on the silver bowl as he carried it to the fires beneath Minerva's image. He looked up then and she watched in surprise as the veil slipped to reveal his eyes, no longer soft violet but raging amber and brimming. He spoke only three words before as good as dousing the flame with the animal's blood.

"Forgive me, Athena."

AN: Well, there's the start. Any thoughts? I'm not sure whether it's worth continuing, especially as I've never written anything even remotely historically based before and now I'm jumping back over two thousand years, but ah well. Please tell me what you think!

If you've read it, please review it.