See, did I not tell you that I had a peace offering? Do you forgive me for the delay in updating my other story now? In any case, just to clarify, this is Human AU, set in Ancient Roman. So Roma isn't Ancient Roman as in the personified nation, just the emperor of said nation. Last thing, I know Ancient Rome did not conquer Seychelles, but just over look that minor fallacy and go with it! Let RomaSey have their fun, ok?
Storyteller
Story One: Jacob and Rachel
In the time of conquers and empires and kings, where land was taken by the strong, the Roman Empire was by far the greatest. It stretched from Africa and Egypt, the land of gold and sand, across the vast clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea and hills of the Greek Isles, up the exotic lands of Dalmatia, Asia and the nations of the Black Sea. Up and over, through the territory of its rival Germania, the Roman Empire in its glory didn't stop until it reached Britannia and taking over everything west of its capital of Rome in Italia. From the beautiful wine regions of Gaul to the beaches of Hispania, all of it belonged to Rome.
A great empire is never without sacrifice and the expansion of Rome came at the expense of countless wars and battles, young men dying and old men talking politics.
And on a lone night the Roman Emperor finds himself plagued with worry. As all men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. Will their actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear their names long after they are gone, and wonder who they were, how bravely they fought, how fiercely they loved?
Oh how he loves women and men but a woman is cunning and deceptive. He learns this the hard way as a woman steals his heart and his bachelorhood. And he, so haughty and perhaps filled with wine, let that Delilah take him and make herself Queen. Now the Emperor is a man, he has many lovers but she is above them all. Or she was until she betrayed him with flattery and womanly woes, tied him up and tried to cut his hair to take his strength. She'd wanted to assassinate him, a messenger and spy of Germania. Her plot was discovered however, and his Empire and life of spared.
Now the Emperor is kept awake with war in the horizon and no wife to ease his mind and bring him peace. Concubines and lovers were fun for when he has needs of the physical kind but hardly offered any solace when his mind needs stimulation. They only see his beauty, physical strength and status. The rest is lost on them. So not only is his mind heavy with plans of war, there is the matter of choosing a new bride.
Since sleep will not come, Julius, face of the Roman Empire, occupies himself in his outer chambers with clays, water and sculpting tools. His servants worry for him as they watch the man pace in the shadows behind veils that keep him and his work askewer. They know he's moving because his silhouette is visible through the sheer curtains and the blob of clays that's slowly taking on the form of a man can be seen. Julius dresses in loose robes that blow like the curtains from the breeze that passes through the room from a balcony not far away. He says nothing for the most part, in silent concentration like any good artist.
The moon is high, the night is quiet and a lowly lady in waiting to the former queen is summoned. Her face is a shadow, a ghost like so many other workers in the royal house. In an empire so vast, it is not uncommon to see someone of a darker complexion present though there are indeed very few to have such an opportunity that she will.
A eunuch rouses her from her sleep, informs her of the Emperor's restless situation and instructs her to rise as they have a task for her. She obeys with a nod and dresses quickly into more appropriate attire than her nightdress, though it is hardly anything compared to the silks adorned by the Emperor. Michelle wonders why they would summon her of all the female servants to attend to the needs of the Emperor. She being of even lower rank than most due to her coming from Africa. But when she asks as her and the eunuch walks the cold, still marble halls, his reply is simply,
"Because of your voice."
Her voice? It seems a weird thing to want. Did the Emperor expect her to sing him a lullaby? She can't sing to save her life. She may in fact be put to death for killing the Emperor rather than helping him nod off to sleep.
Michelle clenches and rubs her arms as nerves begin to set in. The eunuch is silent again, the halls are dark and she's never been this close to the Roman Emperor before in her life. Naturally, she's scared.
He leaders her to the door that opens to the outermost part of the Julius' chambers, stops and turns to her.
"Michelle of Seychelles," his voice is so deep and her mind is so gone that she jumps in fear, "Seat yourself on the stool and read the scroll. It is a chronicle of the Emperor, the royal diary. Remember the protocol: to approach uninvited is death."
"I reading to him?" she questions. Well, it clears up why her voice is needed and also insures that neither she nor the Emperor will die tonight.
The eunuch nods once and pushes open one of the doors. Immediately she feels the draft of summer air. It pricks her skin and makes her shiver. Michelle ventures in, glancing back just as the man closes the door. There are no more guards here, she notices. No eunuch, no solider, just her, a cushioned stool on which sits a rolled scroll and behind veiled curtains the Emperor is working on something. She glances behind at the door once again before swallowing thickly and moving to sit on the stool.
Even behind the veil, Michelle can see that the Emperor is a tall, broad man, with wide shoulders and big hands that delicately balances a tiny sculptor's knife. She clenches the scroll in her lap and watches him as he bends slightly over a low working table, chipping away at whatever material he has.
But she isn't summoned to be a spectator of his skills; she's here to read. So Michelle undoes the binding on the scroll with slightly shaky hands and unrolls it enough where she can see the first few entries.
"Daily entry 23," she starts in a small voice and looks up to see if the Emperor is paying attention. He hasn't appeared to move from his previous spot, still chipping away so she carries on. "Egyptian wheat reserves were reported at half the normal level due to a recent drought."
Michelle clears her throat, glances at Julius, and then continues, "24, Admiral Ecstese was honored for serving 20 years in the Royal Fleet. After a lengthy speech he promptly keeled over and died." A breathy, quick laugh slips from her throat and Michelle quickly purses her lips and looks up once more.
Julius doesn't seem to even know she's there. He's still working on his sculpture. The shape is starting to look more like a man as she can make out a head, nose, neck and body. But she clears her throat softly and speaks up this time just in case he couldn't hear her.
"Entry 25: Archippus of Rome lost his slave Onesimus. After four days, Onesimus was found near the city walls. The authorities promptly captured him and he was immediately sentenced to execution."
She grimaced at such a harsh punishment but reads on for the next few entries. They are mundane, mostly about the prices of things within the Empire, taxes and new policies. She yawns and blinks rapidly to keep her eyes open. How is the Emperor even still functioning? Her eyes are threatening to close; yet, in all that time, Julius is still standing, still sculpting away as if Michelle isn't reading him the most boring bedtime story.
How long is she supposed to read? The scroll is quite lengthy and she's only gotten through ten logs. Is she supposed to go on until he declares himself tired? If so, it didn't appear that he was going to do that anytime soon.
Michelle sighs and slouches. Julius doesn't notice still. He hasn't really noticed or acknowledged her at all so she doesn't feel the need to sit with perfect posture to impress him. She unravels more of the bottom of the scroll and rolls the bits that she's read already.
"Entry 33," Michelle pushes her luck by sounding less enthused this time and letting her weariness seep through her voice. Julius sculpts away. She keeps going, ", three head of sheep were stolen from Deremont Mera, Satrap of Media. He requested the crown send out the proper authorities..."
She glares at veils as she trails off. He's not even listening to her. Not one word. The Emperor is too focused on whatever he's doing to pay her any attention. Not that she wants him to look her way or sit on the floor next to her like the children used to do in the small village she's from. It would be nice to have a bit of acknowledgement though. A grunt or hum of approval, anything to show that he hasn't summoned her to waste her time that could have been used for sleeping. It's the middle of the night after all and Michelle, unlike Julius, was asleep.
And if Julius isn't even listening, then perhaps…a small smile creeps on her face as she lowers the scroll. Perhaps he won't notice if she fabricates the chronicles just a tiny bit.
Michelle thinks for a moment and decides a story that she likes will do. Stories from her childhood seem too common for an Emperor's chronicles so she recalls one told her by a fellow female servant from a small village west of Mesopotamia.
She smiles wistfully and sits the scroll in her lap, "Jacob, also a shepherd by trade was sent off into the far, far off land. Where he came across the fair Rachel, tending her father's sheep. He was smitten." She pauses to see if he's noticed the change in context and it didn't appear so. Pleased, she grins to herself at the ingenious of it all. Now, at the very least, she won't be bored.
"He went and rolled the stone from the well, reeled in the bucket and watered her flock for her. Jacob kissed Rachel and wept with joy." she abandons the scroll next to her as she prompts her elbows on her knees, resting her face in her palm and visually traces the marble patterns on the floor.
"Laban, Rachael's father, heard of this and ran to meet them. He embraced him and kissed him and brought Jacob back to his house where Jacob stayed for one month. One day, Laban said to Jacob," Michelle deepens her voice just a bit to sound more like a male. "'Should you to serve me and my daughters for free? Tell me what shall your payment be for your work?' Jacob said, 'I will work as a servant for you for 7 years if I can marry your youngest daughter Rachael.' Jacob served 7 years tending Laban's sheep and it only seemed but a few days, for the love he had for her."
Michelle sits up. Truthfully, she's forgotten all about the Emperor and tells the story with the enthusiasm and emotions she feels the characters have.
"Then Jacob said to Laban, 'Give me my bride for I have faithfully served you these seven years!' Laban threw a great wedding feast, but in the dark of the evening, while Jacob drunk from wine, Laban brought his older daughter into the room. The two of them consummated the marriage."
Her brows furrow and she lowers her voice in regret, "But in the morning when he woke up, he saw it was Leah, not Rachael. Jacob was shocked!" She gasps and places a hand over her heart, feigning the emotion, "He said to Laban, 'What is this you have done to me? I serve you seven years for Rachael, didn't I? Why have you deceived me and gave me Leah?'"
"Why than," Michelle stops immediately, voice hitching in surprise as Julius speaks. "Have you deceived me?" Her eyes dart around as he is no longer standing by his worktable, sculpture abandoned and she finds him looming between the curtains in the shadows. "I must admit that never before has such a tale been found in the pages of the royal diary. Here I expect to be lulled to sleep by tedious reports. Instead I am beguiled by a love story."
Michelle looks guiltily at the ground. The goose bumps on her neck from the surprise of his voice only makes her shiver, partly from the breeze but more so of fear at overstepping her bounds.
She doesn't dare look up at him but her eyes slant in his direction and she can see his sandaled feet coming slightly closer to her.
"How does your tale end?" Julius asks and she hears what sounds like water swishing, "This Jacob, he is able to have his bride? He is able to have her?"
Julius is drying his hands when she hesitantly looks up. Michele keeps her eyes low though, not daring to look anywhere above his neck or meet his gaze. "Only after serving 7 more years for her, my lord."
He scuffs and turns to drop the towel on a nearby table. "And do you believe in such things? In love?"
Michelle chances a glance at him. Julius looks at her with seemingly tired eyes. She blushes, realizing her error after his question. Of course such a story is not appropriate in any instance with the Emperor, even more so now that his previous Queen betrayed him. Yet, she can't bring herself to feel regret. In fact, Michelle pities him.
"Is it the bases of all things good?"
"What's your name?"
"Michelle of Seychelles."
"Seychelles?" he repeats with a hint of amusement. Julius tilts his head and nods toward the veils, "Come. Come here is what to see what I've been working on."
It sounds like a question but Michelle takes it as a command and stands quickly. Julius already made his way behind the curtains and she follows a few steps behind, pushing aside the veils until she can see clearly him standing over a small brown statue. It's clay, she realizes as Julius soothes his finger over the sculpture's skull with delicate ease. She ventures hesitantly closer as he bends over it, dips his finger in a water basin on the table and brushes the spot again.
What he's trying to smooth out, she can't tell but Julius' amber eyes are so focused in concentration that she wants to believe something needs to be fixed. It shouldn't come as a surprise that the great Roman Emperor is an impeccable artist. Naturally since so many of his citizens are as well. It's a trait that Michelle could hardly picture him using. When she thinks of the Emperor, she thinks of a massive, relentless, ruthless bloodthirsty warrior. Not a man with nimble fingers, patiently smoothing out and rounding clay.
"Romans," Julius says, drawing her attention from his sculpture to his face, "we have a god of symbol form for love. His name is Cupid. The Greeks call him Eros," he stands straight and looks at her with a small smile on his face, "his arms will hold the bows; his arrows they say are tipped with love."
Michelle ventures a bit closer as Julius walks around his creation. "Some archer's arrows are tipped with poison, my lord." She reasons and hesitantly brushes her fingers over the still wet clay.
Julius grunts and she looks up to see him roll his eyes. "Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference. The symptoms are the same."
Her brows furrow, hands still on the clay man as she looks at him. Julius is looking away with eyes worn and empty. "Love doesn't try to kill you," she reasons.
"Love has failed me," he starts solemnly, "Knowledge has failed me, and thus I bind myself to the protocols of my fathers and to my empire."
Michelle wants to tell him that it's not true. Love hasn't failed him and that love is kind and patient and doesn't do wrong. The Queen didn't love him.
Michelle wants to tell him so much but the doors open and both she and Julius look in the direction the eunuch is walking. The Emperor acknowledges him then turns briefly to her. "Perhaps in another time, some other place, you will read to me again."
He nods at the eunuch then turns and walks into the opposite direction as the other man guilds Michelle towards the door. She looks over her shoulder at Julius' retreating figure and wonders if she will ever see him look happy.
A/N: So? Yes, no, maybe so? I like it! Only two more chapters to go! This is seriously the shortest story I've done that hasn't been a one-shot! This pairing has grown on me in ways it probably shouldn't. It's so wrong but so right! You know you love it!
-CeCe ^^