Note: Based on an rp started by Josey V, a talented and awesome writer who unfortunately couldn't continue updating due to personal circumstances. First few chapters will be considered co-authored with them. A very special thanks to my good friend bullentincookie, who helped me with the title and summary and who will I go to and bother for Roman history.

Warnings: Rating will eventually change to M, some mature themes, historical accuracy on the "ehh" scale of general wanna-be historical fiction fanfiction.

Added note: Honest reviews, constructive critiques are always welcome (cough, especially in the topic of more accurate/reasonable names, cough), follows and favorites will help this writer get a much needed writer power boost. Enjoy!

If he could close his eyes, he could take himself back to the familiar old village nestled between cool green mountains. Silver singing of hanging chimes from gentle breezes. The home that forever smelled of damp earth and distant smoke. If he tried hard enough, he could hear the sinuous river that hugged the edges of mountains churn violently in the spring months and then rush smoothly as the autumn chill approached.

Dark waters that could drift endlessly, lap gently on the gravel shores, then dash across boulders and storm fearlessly over cliffs.

His back teeth ground on each other inside his clenched jaw. The familiar sounds of his bold and steady river were easily drowned out by harsh outbursts of the men before him. Their voices loud, deep and flat to his ear. He could not allow himself to close his eyes. He stood, clinging onto the last bits of dignity he was fortunate to have. It was all he could barely keep.

Like his home river, Wang Yao had traveled over great, unsteady distances. He was never sure on what he'd encounter next, being forced into chaffing ropes and walks over earth; plains, deserts and jungle. He traveled under scorching suns and limitless starry skies, each step taking him far from what he once held dear. His river was his road home. Before the weary trek, he was stripped of who he was. They took away his clothes and shoes, his books and brushes, his merchant cart, silks, teas, and spices. They took away the welcoming embrace of his children, his entire livelihood. They disregarded his name, his language, his humanity. Instead, he was made to bear the marks of his captors, scars inflicted on his skin and scars he carried within.

The merchant faced his end on the same road in which he created his life. A cruel fate for a trader to become traded himself, amid a jostling Roman plaza, on display along with the meat and horses.

Streams of people of different color and origins, the Daqin as they were called by his people, flurried from one booth to another. Yao anchored his view on a crowded basilica in the distance, above heads where he stood on a raised platform, ignoring the buyers below. Their faces blurred together in a desperate mess of men. He could never cast his eyes down. The voices grew louder and the numbers went higher.

The last bid could have made Yao wince.

Slavery wasn't a new concept to him. He was well aware of its existence, for it was as common as the trade of spices and silk. He had seen many deteriorating others be sent away, to be owned by another. It was a concept that disgusted him, being a silk merchant with the independence and power of a free man, but it was a fact of reality he had accepted and thus ignored. What an awareness these past few months gave him.

Daqin men, young and old, shouted fervently for a chance to own him. Their mere persistence was enough to make Yao shudder.

"500 for a slave from Serica!"

A slave from Serica, as he was called by the Daqin, was a rare sight to behold. For all the shabby splendor, his ragged tunic, raw wrists, and bony figure, he was exotic to those who never stepped out of the confines of their already diverse empire. It did not help that, framed by cascading locks of dark silken hair, was a face that was pleasing and soft to look at, like petals of a favored flower. Effeminate features were curiously desired here as it was in his homeland, so it seemed. A man of his age, years of being pursued by different men in his youth and being hungrily sought after now, Yao continued to remain unimpressed.

"1,000 denarii."

"Sold."

He knew that word Latine. He had picked up on the Daqin language in his days as a merchant and his toils as a newly captured slave. The words themselves made his tongue roll around in strange ways. But it was the way it was announced, through the familiar shrill bark of his captor, that made Yao snap his view and forget all he was fighting for.

He looked downwards and met the eyes of the man who now had the right to his life.

And from Rome comes a man whose name is manifested in power and money. A proud Roman man of great stature, strong jaw and thick hair that curled at the ends. He was a legend of his own right, radiance earned and bestowed, taking part in the expansion of the Roman Empire faithfully under his emperor's command. A noble deed for his patria. As a soldier who served under the most formidable of legions, he rose in fame and rank.

He was given the name Marcellus, after the commander he so boldly protected in a campaign towards the East. And with such dealings, he made acquaintance with many traders along the newly establishing trade routes that brought in wealth in form of spices and silk. He returned to Rome a hero and equestrian. He shed his bloodied past with a place in good society as a bright business man who has made connections with many outside the empire.

That was who Octavius Marcellus was in name, but to a blessed few he was Romulus, the man who smile was the morning glow. An antithesis of a free Roman man who had manus, total control over his household, children and slaves including.

For he was a deviant, a twin son who came from a humble family of glass blowing plebians. A husband who shared manus with his beloved wife and a loving father who loved his sons to no end.

And he made sure none of his more intimate circles of senator friends knew about it. For what they were allowed to know was that Octavius Marcellus was a bold and brave Roman, a lover of wine, young men and women and a future senator himself.

But what came in abundance can be snatched away in an instant. When his youngest son was born, death came to his wife days after. The babe was the healthiest child yet but it took a toll on dear Helena. It was the most devastating event to Romulus; the bold woman was the only person he placed full faith and trust. He became less of Romulus and more of Octavius Marcellus.

Without Helena, the household was becoming difficult to manage, especially with his recent purchase of a villa to grow grapevines. So, instead of doing something rational like hiring a skilled plebian to manage domestic affairs, Romulus was purchasing more slaves to maintain his domus and villa.

Romulus was on the outer skirts of the auction, the sights and unpleasant smells only added to the excitement. He was mildly interested. Almost, not quite, that is until the crowd of Roman citizens seemed to have riled up for one slave in particular. He used his power and color of his toga to his advantage. He wanted a closer look so the crowd made room for him. Then, he understood why.

She was beautiful. A gorgeous youth from Serica.

Romulus smiled, quite pleased himself, as he met the eyes of his most recent purchase.

Yao immediately broke the unprompted gaze when he felt a familiar weight fall on his arm. Immediately, he tensed up and stood nearly paralyzed. It just encouraged his captor to hold him even tighter and lead him more forcefully out, his back away from the disappointed men. He hated this reflex, he felt belittled every time he grabbed him like so, but it was better to fall deceptively numb when enduring a session of continuous sharp pain and ragged breathing.

"Go," the loathsome captor ordered, ushering him off the platform and into the closed market space where they temporarily kept shop. Yao stumbled in his step. "You are going to strip in front of your new master so that he will know exactly what he is buying." The captor and his cohorts stood by with smirks and a perverse sense of regret for letting such a slave go. The Roman currency pleased them more.

Romulus didn't hold the pleased smile for long. He pushed along the dispersing crowd. If he wanted to keep distance and certain level of respect from the common, lower ranking men, he must remain composed and hard with an air of cold austerity. Even if acquiring a beauty like the Seres youth made him feel light and strangely giddy on the inside. Feelings that he wasn't all too familiar with since the death of his wife.

With those feelings sealed behind a stoic face, he walked towards to where his slave was lead. He gently pushed a sun bleached hanging cloth that separated the shop from the rest of the market. His left hand pressed to his abdomen, coming in with importance.

Upon recognizing his buyer, Yao slipped out of his clothes, the sorry excuse for a tunic. He felt as though his sense of modesty was virtually nonexistent at this point. His body had been exposed and used countless times, there was no use in blushing or trying to hide in embarrassment, no matter how shameful he felt each time.

Taking his place in front of his new slave, Romulus' eyes landed on the unaffected youth's beautiful face and then down the bare chest and lower still.

Oh.

Romulus felt his face heat up from embarrassment, more so fluster. Now he fully understood the rancor behind his bidding. He was a man who bore feminine features, a prized look among his people. A beauty all the same.

Yao felt a smug satisfaction from seeing the Daqin man shocked and flustered because of him, if the brief shock and flush was of any indication, yet he did not let this show. He stood tall and waited for the man to finish gawking.

Romulus shook his head. In retrospect, the Seres did have rather broad shoulders and his strong eyes was a masculine trait of his. And he had no breasts but that did not bother Romulus at all to begin with. He cleared his throat and approached him to inspect him himself as if he truly just was another slave and not some person bought out of noble whim and fancy. He prodded his ribs. He paused, feeling the other flinch and tense up. Romulus furrowed his brow but continued on his inspection. Too skinny. Any other slave, 1,000 would have gotten Romulus an army of these types. He felt his biceps and shoulder muscle. Still a household slave, no vineyard work. Checked his mouth. No sign of disease. And his eyes. Romulus furrowed his brow, his hands softening around his jaw. His lips. Romulus' thumb itched to run it's pad over those lips. The slave's mouth briefly twitched downwards.

Yao had a mind to keep his look as calm as he could, but he could not help but inhale deeply when the man looked at him like so. Obviously, him being male wasn't a problem, but it made his insides twist with worry. He both wished and not wished to know what the Daqin man had in mind for him.

Romulus shook his head and cleared his throat before stepping away. "1,000 it is," he told the auctioneers. No attempt to lower the price, for he was not at all disappointed. The land the Seres beauty came from was a land of awe and mystery. The treasures kept within was worth so much more than 1,000 Roman coins. On the brighter side of things, he had gotten a deal.

Even if with the current expansion of the empire that brought the price of slaves down.

He discussed with the auctioneers over payments, occasionally glancing at the men surrounding his slave like a child challenging others when they got too close to his favorite toy. Yao was the least bit appreciative at the newfound invisible barrier he had between himself and the brutes of his captors. Even as he stood naked, he knew that they wouldn't dare lay a finger on him anymore. It was a moment of relief he clung onto quite needily.

Romulus then ordered for him to be dressed immediately, which Yao gratefully complied. And at long last everything was settled. The contract was signed with a firm wax press of Romulus' gold seal ring. An insignia that bore the image of the god Apollo on his sun chariot surrounded by laurel leaves. A non-refundable purchase sealed in the first family patriarch's name, Apollonius Octavius.

"Does he understand Latin?" he asked. "Has he shown any skill?"

"He understands plenty," the captor explained. "He was in fact a merchant before his boss sold him to repay some dues."

Yao furrowed his brow. How he wished he spoke plenty of Latin to expose the brute of his lies. He could tell them of the senseless pillage, the bloodshed and the trauma forced on Yao and his fellow merchants.

"I wouldn't take his introvert nature as a weakness, he is especially clever when he wants to be," the captor finished.

Romulus glanced at Yao, who was fuming in the inside. Romulus figured that Yao appeared to know more than what he let on.

"Very well then," Romulus answered. "Expect the first payment within a month."

It went well enough. Romulus has paid 1,000 denarii for a slave who was experienced, educated and while he had not given proof of skill, it was something he was willing to gamble on. The fact would be hard to believe since the Seres man looked so young. He must have seen 25 summers at the most and yet he was a merchant. A business man like himself. He has picked up on Latin and Romulus was sure he could learn more.

And their circumstance was rather perfect, for his other household slaves have been in disarray, creating factions amongst themselves. Everyone doing their own jobs their way for there was no one constantly there to overlook the household. And without thinking it through he believed the Seres man could be the one to do it, to organize Romulus' chaotic mess. Another gamble.

It was only until he stepped into the public eye again that the first hint of regret churned in his stomach. 1,000 denarii. He was done with shopping for that day. Like the auctioneer had described, the youth was introverted. He dared look back, his regret prevented him from having any will power to not do so. There was hidden strength in his eyes, and so was there intelligence. But what if in the end the money was spent in vain? So much can go wrong, a clever escape, an unsuccessful breaking in…

His steps were soundless on the paved streets in comparison to Romulus' proud old military click.

"Your eyes must be cast down in public," Romulus ordered in a firm voice. "Do not attract any attention to yourself." You do enough already, he wanted to add. He continued walking, feeling as though he made his point.

Yao furrowed his brow and tucked his lips in a lame attempt to calm the dizzying storm of snarky remarks and insults in his head. He was expert however, at holding his firey tongue. His knuckles white, pale and tight. You attract enough attention yourself what with you marching and peacocking around the streets, he burned to say. In spite of this he lowered his eyes, a better way to hide his venomous glares and not risk injured pride by being scolded in public.

Romulus continued his way out of the plaza and out of the congested areas of the city where he walked at a more leisurely pace. Confident that the Seres youth was trailing behind him, he did not look back. He furrowed his brow. It was tempting, why did he have to be so quiet?

His eyes darted to the side, his own want to see his slave betraying him. Romulus grunted and shook his head when he twitched to look back, ridiculous as it all was.

"You will address me as Octavius Marcellus," he stated after he cleared his throat. "You will be probably be placed as a common household slave until I figure out what to do with you. Your previous owners said you were a merchant. I will see to it that it's fully explored."

Yao had to relax his shoulders slightly. Household work usually meant less strenuous work in the heat, however, it also meant that he will be in his new master's presence constantly. Yao dared not let out a heavy sigh. He did not want to give the man a satisfaction of any submissive response.

"For now, you will attend to me when I am at home," Romulus continued, making Yao's lower lids twitch up. "When I am away you will work around the house assisting other slaves."

Romulus supposed it was a good thing, for the slave to remain quiet as he spoke, but his silence also read as stubbornness and soon he was wondering whether this pleased him or not. He gave in quickly and glanced back, his proud brow rising in curiosity. The youth appeared calm and stoic as ever. Unreadable, beautiful and mysterious.

Romulus decided to be more direct with him. "What is your name?"

"I am called Yao," was his response, his voice strong and tonal in strange places. He was loud enough for the Daqin man to hear. Latin was easier to understand when the words were direct and simple to him. Yao was called clever for a reason, he had done a much better job picking up on the strange language than most. It wasn't his second language either.

"Yah-Yào," Romulus tried, the vowels smooth in his Roman tongue. He knew it sounded off in his slave's ears as well as own. He contemplated briefly over the romanization his name before coming to the sudden realization that him pronouncing his slave's name correctly should be no cause for concern on his part.

Any another day, in any other time or circumstance, Yao would have been genuinely amused.

He briefly looked up only to see the Daqin man looking at him with a sort of want of approval in his eyes. Romulus turned around quickly to hide the fluster in his cheeks to seem imposing and stand-offish. Yao gave a soft snort at that.

Romulus had heard many names from Serica, all of them, complicated and rich in tonal inflection. He had expected something similar from the beauty. Nothing as simple or as elegant as Yao. A romanization of the name would surely mar it. Whatever it meant, whether it was a fitting name or not, he knew no Roman name can equate to the simplistic beauty of Yao.

Although Pulcher, Atellus or even Labeo would have suited him just as nice.

"Very well then," Romulus concluded, now a short distance from his domus. "No one will find it hard to pronounce that name." He wanted an excuse to keep saying it.

Yao inwardly gave a sigh of relief. He was going to be allowed to keep his name, not that he ever considered having his own name a privilege but having it so close to being replaced was something terrifying to say the least. His own name had become the last of his connection to his homeland. He allowed himself a firm nod in gratitude.

At long last, he led him to the front of his city home. A far from humble domus, it was more simplistic than most surrounding it. Perhaps the choice in style was remnant of Romulus' more humble beginnings. Outside was a closed store and nothing more. The interior was still impressive however, the atrium was well lit and beautifully crafted. Romulus entered with a slight puff to his chest, like a bird showing off his uniquely crafted nest to a potential mate.

Yao's stoic expression gave in to one of awe and interest, even nearly tripping on himself to see the symmetrical beauty of the house. Yao appreciated that broad detail immensely as it reminded him of the palaces in his homeland. Everything fit in place and had purpose. The disheartening fact about it all was Yao would probably never ever return home with stories of this place. Little faces brightening up, refusing to believe his fantastical stories he personally lived through as real.

Romulus had a sort of pride showing this section of his domus off. Plenty of skylight spilled through the open areas of the room, painted scenery of Roman campos adorned the plastered walls. An elaborate shrine dedicated to Juno stood where a beautifully crafted bust of a woman was placed. If one was more attentive and religious enough, the woman carried more offerings than the goddess herself. Some of which curiously came in form of small wooden toys, dried flowers, pieces of colorful silk, a fig with a small bitemark and a parchment which held a crudely written message.

Romulus' footfalls on marbled floor echoed off painted walls. The doorman closed the door with a loud click and knocked on the surface 3 times to announce their master's return.

Yao stood in silence nearby where Romulus had sat on a bench near the fountain.

The Daqin man dipped his feet in the small fountain that was in the middle of it all. Soon, a male slave older than Romulus and Yao walked in with a cloth and a change of sandals. He greeted him before helping him dry his feet. Some few slaves entered the atrium to receive him. They were walking but from their appearance it was clear that they ran here. Yao furrowed his brow at this.

The slaves were to take the damp cloth and dusty sandals away, yet before they made another move, Romulus held his hand. "Bring my sons and the others here, I have an announcement I wish to make." It was then that the other slaves took notice of the newcomer before them. Some were visibly shocked and awestruck. Others simply stared. Romulus frowned. "Well, go on!" he barked. The slaves spared one more look before walking off.

The older slave stayed behind. "Boss," the older man muttered softly in their language. He had an accent himself, a man of Greek origins. "May it please you to let us know what happened to the couple of stallions you were supposed to buy at the market today?" Romulus closed his eyes and hummed, keeping his arm pressed to his abdomen while a faint blush covered his cheeks.

"Remember we needed to breed the mares at your villa this year?" the man continued. Romulus still hummed thoughtfully yet managed to keep a composed stance.

Yao's brow furrowed even more. From a merchant's perspective, this was a rash decision, a foolish gamble no less. A well-bred horse brought in more profit than Yao could. He could doubly reassure of the Daqin man's utter folly by killing himself that night, although Yao himself wasn't so rash or spiteful to that extent.

"There had been a change of plans," Romulus answered, turning towards the sound of a greater amount of footfalls echoing the atrium walls.

A diverse group of about 15 slaves surrounded them, all well fed and well clothed. Amongst them stood a group of children, all ranging between his teenaged years to his first year. Their faces did not blur into the group, Yao noted, and it wasn't because of their extravagant toga or even the way they stood.

The second youngest of them, one with lighter hair and straighter locks, looked directly at Yao and sheepishly hid behind his nursemaid's skirts. Yao gave a small huff of amusement.

"Pater, she looks weird."

Standing next to the shier one was a child who could have been his twin had it not been for his dark curled locks, darker olive skin and confident stance. He stood taller than the younger, perhaps some 2 years older and with a brow that matched his father's. "Why did you buy her?" he bluntly continued.

"A whore?"

Now standing taller than the rest of the children was Romulus' eldest, a young teen with sleepy eyes and uncombed dark curly hair that was certainly a common trait in the Octavius bloodline. He yawned. He was blunt and strong like his younger brother but with a face that was unlike the rest of them. A softened brow, much like the woman who bore them. He sniffed casually, uncaring yet honest.

Yao wasn't so sure what to make of this introduction, a welcoming if he could ever call it this. The youngest Octavius son, a babe of a year old, seemed to have also added his input by babbling happily and reaching a pudgy hand out towards Yao, interrupting the tense awkward moment. Yao felt uncomfortable, feeling as though he had been put on display again.

For all his days of being passed from trader to trader, for his nights in cramped carts and unbearable weather. This… this was wholly different.