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WARNINGS: Marcus/Esca. MPREG as in... Male pregnancy. Don't say I didn't warn you.
SUMMARY: A few months after being taken as a slave by Esca, Marcus's secret is exposed, wounding his already broken pride.
I don't own these characters. I'm clearly just abusing them. ; )
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Marcus felt the hands on him before he saw them. His leg, accosted by a pain very familiar to him since his old war injury, was useless, but he kicked out with the other in vain at this rude awakening.
Something was barked to him in their savage tongue from the darkness of the hut, and a quick blow to his ribs quelled his efforts to strike them.
"E-esca," he begged, realizing his once friend was beside him. "Esca, please…w-what's happening? What …what are they doing?" His roman was useless; the younger man ignored him.
And then, they had him. They handled him sternly and deliberately despite his efforts, half carrying him and half dragging.
His feet scrambled painfully in the blade-like grass until he was hoisted up onto a table at the edge of the village. Of course, like the soldier he had once been, he struggled, realizing they meant to tie him down.
No. No, no no no!
A snarling sound hissed between his teeth, however, surprising both he and Esca, who had begun to hold him down.
"Be still," Esca said flatly in a viciously cold tone, but Marcus could feel his fingertips trail softly against his skin. It was meant to reassure him.
"FUCK YOU, Esca," Marcus growled, jarring away from his touch. Months ago, before his betrayal, he had leaned into Esca's touch, needing the comfort to endure the alien coldness of the untamed Northern lands. But not now, as a broken slave.
A vice like grip now clenched onto his jaw, turning his face upward again.
It was Esca, again. But his blue eyes weren't boring into Marcus's. A frailer looking, decorated woman, weathered with age, was appraising him through cloudy eyes.
Marcus felt a shiver snake down his spine as he looked up into the wise but murky gaze. She muttered something, and Esca tilted his face and pulled back an eyelid as if inspecting a horse for its health. They knew something was wrong. He bit his lip.
Something was different; they had noticed. About the way he moved, and shied away from their curious eyes in the daylight.
They would find out today then.
They would find out his secret.
He exhaled in defeat, swallowing despite how dry and thick his mouth felt out of dread. He glanced at the blinding sky desperately, either to avoid the medicine woman's knowing smile or to stare pleadingly at the gods.
They pulled his filthy slave shirt up, exposing his broad body to the prickling wind of the northern valley. He was skinny now, his body still strong but less ornate with bulging ridges and toned muscles.
But there, on his abdomen, was the matter in question that had caught the medicine woman's eye.
Had it been when he was sleeping? So often he would wake in the darkness to find himself curled around his stomach, hands clasped over it unconsciously with protective instincts that had seized him in a nightmare…
Esca's brow furrowed silently as he watched a glistening moisture well in the corner of Marcus's clenched shut eyes.
Was his roman crying, now? After all that he had endured? After having to believe that Esca had betrayed him, and having to be 'claimed' violently by his sinewy pale body before the tribe, after all of this, his strong Marcus was to shed tears now?
The sight of it churned his stomach to rot.
The roman couldn't understand the medicine woman. But he must've known what she said when a half amused smile crossed her leathery face and she reached out place both hands on either side of his tight drum of a stomach.
Marcus turned his head away, forcefully glaring at nothing, anything but the woman as she violated his shameful secret.
Her ancient hands smoothed out across the soft curve of his belly, fingering the tightness of it gently.
The Roman didn't blink for nearly a minute. Rage and hot embarrassment flushed his face and ears a deep pink.
But when she finally pressed her ear against his full stomach, hearing the beat of what he knew lay growing in it against his will, he writhed away, twisting to rid himself of her touch, and curled in on himself protectively.
"Leave me be, you fucking pigs," he snarled viciously. But to spite him, an ash covered celt warrior reached out to rub his belly, digging his nails into the skin jeeringly. He was laughing menacingly.
Marcus snapped out with his teeth like an animal, having no other means of defense in this degrading position.
Esca had been silent this whole time, numb to all but the Medicine woman's nod at him and congratulatory hand on his shoulder.
Laughter rang in his ears like an echo; someone congratulated him, something murmured about the breaking of a stallion, no doubt making fun of his slender build and the impressive size of Marcus… his apparently pregnant 'slave.'
One by one, the fellow warriors of his tribe walked away. Leaving him listening to the merciless howling of the northern winds…and the nearly silent tears Marcus was ashamed to shed.
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The sun was just now setting, casting his tan roman skin in a golden glow.
"Marcus," he said quietly, intending to voice some assurance or comfort. But he had none.
What could he say?
What had he done to his master, his friend, and his lover?
He reached out tentatively, noticing how Marcus paused in his writhing for a brief instant, as if surprised at his tenderness.
His palm was just wide enough to gently cover the rounding bulge on the roman's body, as if he meant to hide what he had created. And he rubbed in a slow, soothing circle until he saw that the tears had stopped.
"Marcus, I am sorry," he whispered, sighing slow as he bent over the other man's chest to rest his head.
The restrained man let his head fall back against the table as he mirrored the gesture; a wracking sigh made Esca's head sink slightly.
With his cheek pressed to Marcus's warm chest, he watched the rounding tan belly rise and fall with each of his deep, wavering breaths.
But still, the stoic war hero was silent.
He lifted his wrists plaintively, silently pleading for release, until Esca began to untie his restraints.
Slowly, the taller man sat up, rubbing at his wrists and evasively staring at the marks the ropes had left.
"Are you hurt?" Esca whispered.
His Roman glared at him before reaching out and snatching the fabric of his 'master's shirt. The rough fabric cut into his skin as he was forced to regain his footing.
"Hurt? I am worse than hurt, Esca. I think I would prefer hurt instead of what you have made me."
The blonde clenched his jaw stolidly until the roman shoved him off.
And then Marcus's voice became a hoarse whisper. "You have sewn me like the earth, and your wretched creature is growing," he muttered darkly. "It is eating my rations, sparring with my innards, and exhausting me as it turns about while I wish to sleep!" Throwing his hands in to the air, Marcus turned to stare Esca in the eyes. "So no. I am not hurt. I am far beyond hurt." Glancing at his feet for a moment, he sighed and swallowed with his dry throat. "You have broken me."
Esca knew his eyes were wild, betraying his unfazed demeanor, but he still afforded effort toward trying to appear calm, for either his Roman's sake or his own. "There are medicines…"
"To kill this thing in me?" Marcus snorted crestfallenly, shaking his head. "I have tried. I have swallowed bitter mugwort and verbena. This thing still lives."
Furrowing his brow, Esca felt a pang of something dark and sinking pervade his chest at his lover's reply. "Then the Gods will it so."
"The Gods have no hand in this." Standing slowly to combat the dizzying affects of his wretched condition, Marcus hung his head low and began to walk back to his bed. "It is only stubborn, and strong like its father."
Blinking, the Celt stumbled a few steps and caught up with him. "Then surely you cannot deny affection toward something so much like you already?"
The roman didn't bother to turn around. "Its father, Esca," he spat. "A damnable traitor I used to love."
Escas feet slowed of their own accord and he sighed, watching the tall, broad man sulk back into the slaves' quarters. The entire village was staring at Marcus as he walked, gawking at the miracle that had taken place by will of the gods.
With his fingertips pinching the bride of his nose, he almost didn't hear the medicine woman approaching him until she spoke in her raspy wise voice using their ancient language.
"Ignore the fire in his eyes, Esca. There is a different fire in his heart... and that, along with the child in his belly, is what is meant for you."
Silent, he turned to stare at her. He was terrified, finally, as it all began to sink in - as he finally realized what he had to do.
"You must go," she whispered, sighing slow into the night. "You must go before dawn."
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If y'all like it then I *may* continue the story :s
Please review! This is my first story :))