The day had been a cloudy one with chilly winds. From what should have been dawn to midday, the sun remained hidden behind ominous gray masses of fluff in the sky before finally managing to burn through said masses and light up the glorious rolling Italian hills with a fantastic yellow-orange glow. It didn't take long for the air to warm to its normal temperature, thereby allowing the natives to come out of their homes to bask in the radiance and go about their daily lives. A certain traveler, though, remained closed in his quarters behind stone walls to protect himself from the heated weather. He was from the very far reaches of the inhabited regions of the North- a place with much colder climates than these, and that cold morning had been cherished deeply while he sat out on the edge of his balcony. His body was too hot and too tired to not simply love the largely unwelcome cold. But when the dark coverage was burned away by the mighty heat of the largest orb in the sky, he was cast back into his room with a bitter fever.
The man was sick of such bright, sunny weather that the Mediterranean offered. He wanted his home. He was aging too fast, it had been too long since he had been to such Southern lands, and he was much too out of place. But this trip was not for himself, so he could not simply pack up what little belongings he packed for his long travels and go home- it was never that simple these days. No, he had little ones to worry about and they were the only reason he was here. This was all for them and he would suffer through such miserable heat if it meant for a better future.
Quietly, the man made his way over to his bed at the far end of his well-furnished room. A candle on the nightstand beside his bed lit up the little corner just well enough for him to make out three petite figures under the mass of foreign-looking quilts that didn't quite match the rest of the gold and red decor in the room. The man slowly sat on the edge of the bed to lay a large, strong hand on one of the bigger figure's shoulders in a soft attempt to rouse him from his own feverish nap. The figure stirred and lifted his mess of wavy brown hair from his thin arm that took the place of his pillow that had been stolen during his sleep by his brothers, looked about, then finally glanced up to him. His violet eyes looked a little confused and tired, even slightly crossed some, but he rubbed them and rolled over, away from a much smaller bundle of blankets that he had been holding protectively. The last child was another boy, but perhaps a little older than the one who was now putting his little feet on the wooden floor, pushing himself up carefully to try and wake up better. The two still in bed did not even move. The older man carefully got up as well, not wanting to disturb their much-needed slumber. The heat of the day would eventually wake them up, and for now- he had to get this one ready for his first meeting over borders and trade. The meeting was more of a play-date, his grandfather acknowledged with some distaste because he and the other he'd be talking with were so young. Originally, it had been planned that the other boy's grandfather would be talking directly to the child, but the boy's own grandfather bluntly declined. Words were exchanged that would have gotten any other killed for refuting such a powerful man's request- but the Northerner wasn't just any other. To refute the mighty Roman Empire's direct request, one had to be the very soul of the North; The ever-unconquered lands that the Romans were never able to get their hands on filled with frosted demons, bloodthirsty barbarians, and old ways set in stone that had no desire to change- and that he was.
Leading his grandson down a long hallway filled with the richest of rugs, wall-hangings, tapestries, paintings, and doors that lead to other guest quarters, the Northerner finally guided him to the very end by a tall window. He drew back a curtain to decently clear the dimness of the hallway in natural light rather than the flickering torchlight that illuminated only small sections along the way. He slid down to sit on the window's ledge, long pale legs bent even with his hips to be eye-level with the boy who just turned his back on him groggily and reached for his little belt around his waist, rummaging through a built-in pouch. He was still half asleep, so it took a little longer than usual to find his comb. Handing it back to his grandfather, the man ran his fingers through his shoulder-length, messy brown hair with a straight face while thinking of what all he had to say and how to word it. He could tell the boy was growing more and more nervous the more he became alert but was cleverly hiding that by rubbing his face like he was just trying to wake himself more.
"Roderich," the man started in a low, deep, and thickly-accented voice. He had a natural commanding air to him, but his voice was more relaxed when speaking alone to his little one. The boy just flinched some and glanced out the window, not wanting to turn around to face the man who brushed his hair in fear of interrupting him, but listening intently. He waited for a few moments, using the comb to make his way through a little mess of tangles at the base of his neck. "...Do not try to overpower this one you are going to be meeting. He will act much younger than you, but do not let that be the reason for you to treat him like you do your brothers. Feliciano is the grandson of a very important man. You know this?"
The child only nodded once and he continued on. "We made this trip for you to talk about your borders, but bear with him. He is a... young child, just around the same age as Ludovicus*. I do want you to get your business done, but really all you will be able to do is try to have fun with him. … make friends with him if you can." The boy just turned his head forward and down slightly and his grandfather watched his shoulders attempt to relax. It was obvious he didn't want to be doing any of this. Nevertheless, the boy looked up again and nodded, remaining quiet while the tangles were undone and brushed out. He finished in the back and turned the boy around to brush all of his hair back, then smoothed it down to make it look slicker in the way that he preferred. The boy just stared off with a slightly furrowed brow. Catching the look, the grandfather raised his own and frowned. "Roderich. I need you to look a little less upset about this. At least pretend you want to be here with the child. Remember to keep strong- just be more kind with that face of yours." His large hand cupped the small boy's round cheek, trying to offer some comfort because obviously, his words weren't helping anything. Eyes fluttering up, the boy sighed somewhat. "But why do you get away with being so harsh with his iopa/i at your meetings? Why must I be so kind?"
He had to admit, the words weren't expected. The man just stared at him for a second with an unfaltering gaze though he had been struck somewhat dumbfounded by the innocent questions. There were too many things he couldn't begin discuss with him to even consider giving him a straight, honest answer, so all he let out was a small sigh and responded blandly, "Because Rome is a lost cause. Maybe you can influence his grandson before he is the same." With that, no more words were exchanged and Roderich accepted his duty with his chin high.
His grandfather rubbed his face clean with his thumbs before standing fluidly and re-covering the window with the heavy red sashes. Just as they were about to walk away, though, the man stopped and turned back to the draped columns of linen and silk and stared at them alone for a few moments. Roderich had already almost made it to the room when he noticed he was not with company. Suddenly, with a loud ruffle of fabric, the room was bathed in sunlight from the back of the long hallway from whence he came. The boy froze with his hand on the door, stopping to stare at the back of the tall, wide-shouldered man, and automatically found himself cast into the daze of his thoughts at the sight. Even though he was wearing a rather unflattering drapery of what these Southerners referred to as a 'toga' that was intended to make him look more like the locals of Rome, it was almost painfully obvious he did not belong. He was much too tall, much too lean, and much too gently colored. His long arms that relaxed down by his sides were covered in milky pale skin and the hair that flowed down to the middle of his back was not cast in shades like those of mud on rainy days; It was a striking light yellow that got gradually lighter down towards the tips. These days, though, the child reflected with a small frown, that striking hair had not been near as vibrant. It was starting to fade- to lose its life. The rest of him was vaguely the same. It was almost like... almost like he was finally growing old. In all honesty, the Northerner was starting to match the age behind his eyes that sometimes used to show through after long days or troubling encounters involving his people or grandsons. Roderich found himself staring sadly at the sight before him rather than contently like he normally would. It looked like- no, it never looked like... only felt- the beautifully colored rolling hills of the Italian landscape contrasted the man greater than he'd ever noticed before and did not quite accent him in the way the boy was used to observing. It was just too... starkly different.
The boy didn't know how long each of them stood in those same ways, distantly staring at the sights before them with the same emotions though not close to near the same troubles before the tall man finally turned away from the window to gracefully make his way down the hazy hall. His slender bare feet made no noise at all along the plush gold-designed rug, and Roderich found himself still gaping with wide eyes even as the man was upon him and looking down curiously, maybe even dolefully, if his expression was read just right. A distant noise roused him from his intent stare, and the child blinked to let his eyes wander down from the man's stone-like face that just gazed down at him like it could see right into the darkest depths of his mind. The face told him not to ask questions, but to remain brave. The face told him that it did not want to talk about why it was set the way it was, but to move on to more pressing matters. The face told him to ignore his feelings, his own logic, and hold true to his gut that told him to merely listen for the time being. So, so much in a simple face...
That same distant sound grew somewhat louder to return the boy fully to his senses. He closed his mouth that had fallen slightly slack and stepped into the room to see a little figure sitting up in the bed, the fading light of the diminishing candle having burnt out nearly completely to cast long shadows high upon the stoney, cracked walls. It was no wonder the child upon the bed was crying quietly into his oldest, most worn blanket.
Roderich hastily made his way across the room to his youngest brother who gratefully crawled from under his mass of quilts and his way. The last figure in the bed remained fast asleep, completely undisturbed by all the commotion even with the sharp eyes of his grandfather peering down the way at them in something similar to a modest shade of pride with an abundance of adoration. When Roderich shifted the baby in his arms to look over his bony shoulder, though, those eyes were already turned away and carried off to a tall, well-worked wardrobe placed in the opposite corner of their room. The gaze had not been seen, but it was far from unnoticed. The child looked back down to the other in his arms that now drifted off to slumber once again while safety became his new most cherished blanket with a minutely concerned twitch of the corner of his mouth. He wondered why these looks were kept in such secrecy. Was it not right for a guardian to gaze down upon his children with a smile? With a twinkle in his eye that barely had enough room in it to contain such bursting amounts of joy that these creations looked up to him and called him their own? But no, the boy chided himself, picking up his younger brother to plant a feathery kiss on his pale forehead, their guardian was a strange one, at best. He did love them all with absolutely every fiber of his Earthly soul, and that was never to be questioned. He only wished the warrior would step down from his iron-clad war horse, lay down his arms, and see them all as the simple souls they were- not whatever it might be that kept him so out of reach. He only wished. Again, a soft kiss was placed on his youngest brother's brow, urging him to rise peacefully. Sky blue orbs trimmed with heavily-laced gold fluttered open below is chin, tickling the boy and evoking a quiet giggle, and Roderich brought his face back to look down at the babe who merely stared up at his similar features and tried to make sense of his surroundings.
While the two sat on the cool ground whispering and cooing to one another, their grandfather picked through the wardrobe in search for the finer clothes Roderich had been graciously gifted just the night before by the lord of the villa they were to be residing in for the next few days. Though, the gifts were not given without expectations on their usage. The child was asked to wear such fine clothes namely for the meetings with the man's grandson- what he did with them only after the fact was left free. This greatly upset the visiting child's own grandfather to no end, but he courteously complied. The man ended up folding the gifted royal blue tunic over his forearm along with silk toga which faded leisurely from white to a light, gentle purple that showed just how rich the one who bought it was. Bitter was the man who sealed the red wooden doors and turned the brass knobs, gazing down at the small yet expensive clothing upon his arm. Such royalties- such treats and fancies- yet they left him no more charmed than the ground that had to everlastingly behold such alms, for the gifts meant nothing if they were meant not to be gifts- but disguised commands. In all honesty before the Lord, he would admit if his own flesh and bloods safety were not dependent upon his good behavior, the man would strip out of these 'gifts' and cover himself with his personal clothes that were worn thin from age and use- and he would be content. But no, he couldn't bring himself to so openly and brutally deny the head of the house and land just for his boys. The Northerner banished all griefs and choler from his outward self and turned to catch his middle child's attention with a small gesture from the brief tilt of his head. He had more important matters to attend to- not himself and his worries that he harshly cursed for arising yet again.