*Disclaimer: I do not own the Eagle it is the property of Rosemary Suttcliff and the producers of the film: Enjoy
This is just a short fic about what may have been running through Esca's head as he rushed to find Guern.
-FlyingNotFalling
Esca was running, his entire consciousness had been reduced to sensations, sucking the frigid cold air into his needy lungs, the rush and bite of the harsh wind against his face, the pounding of his feet against the frozen ground as he ran like a madman through the woods, knowing that he was not only running for his own life, but for Marcus's as well.
He didn't know why, but Esca refused to let Marcus die, there was just something about the way Marcus looked up at him the night they stole the eagle. Esca had seen so much emotion in the centurion's hazel gaze: relief, hope, wariness, and strangest of all, affection. And then, at the river, after days of harsh travel had worn him down, the broken look in Marcus's gaze when he tried to force Esca to leave him. Esca had grasped his face and looked into his eyes, he saw that same affection, and with it, a look of such heart break that Esca had felt his throat clench around the words he was trying to say.
It was at that moment, that the young Briton felt an overwhelming surge of fierce protectiveness engulf him, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was going to protect Marcus and bring him back to Calleva alive, or die trying.
And so, Esca ran, letting his consciousness reduce itself down to sensations, the feeling of the frigid air as it rushed down his throat into needy lungs, the rush and bite of the harsh wind against his face, the pounding of his feet against the frozen ground as he ran like a madman through the woods, knowing that he was not only running for his own life, but for Marcus's as well.
{End}