Title: Aristophanes' Redux
Author: br33_br33/Sparkylovesfire/taweesha
Pairing: Logan/Julian. Ancient Greek AU. Slave!Julian.
Rating: M (for later chapters)
Word Count: 4,543
Warnings: Historical inaccuracies. I'm afraid that while I know some things about Greek culture, I am far from an expert. And there will probably be some things I have to make incorrect for the sake of the story. Especially the ages, because Greek males are usually out of their homes by the age of eighteen. And married. Sorry in advance. Also, rating is because there will be sex later on, and might some light dub-con (really light, I promise).
Summary: Logan is the son of a wealthy aristocrat. One day in the marketplace, he meets a boy with sparkling brown eyes, and his life changes for good.
Author's Note: Chapter two! There still isn't too much Julian in this one, but I promise he'll be all over the place in the next chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Dalton, Logan or Julian. They belong to the lovely Miss CP Coulter. There will be random characters that I made up for the stories purposes. But most of them belong to Mama CP.
"The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. Freedom and slavery are mental states."~Mahatma Gandhi
The morning seemed to drag on more so than usual for Logan. Every time he shut his eyes, all he could see were bright brown ones staring back, all fire and intensity mixed with just a dash of indignation. He tried everything to distract himself, but nothing seemed to work. His mind continue to wander back to the boy and his lips and the way his hair fell into those beautiful eyes and—
Logan's cheeks flushed at the images that made their way into his thoughts. Indecent only barely began to cover them, and it only made matters worse that he didn't even know the boy's name. But still, his hand found itself way creeping slowly up his thigh and beneath his tunic.
Logan sighed contentedly as he stroked himself roughly. It wasn't the touch he craved; the callouses on his hands were too familiar, too known. His wrist flicked in a rhythm he'd done a thousand times was always good at pretending, so he closed his eyes and leaned back, his mind knowing exactly what he needed, even if it wasn't quite what he wanted.
Logan bit his lip, gripping tighter and tighter as he felt the impending tug in his belly of release. He tried to keep his fantasies civil, simply imagining another hand pulling him, someone (a brown-eyed someone) kissing his neck softly, maybe a tease of a bite every now and then. They soon morphed into his wildest dreams, of holding a boy down, ravishing him until the boy couldn't move, puffs of air escaping beautiful plump lips in animalistic pants and moans, fingers biting into his shoulders, shouts of his name lost in a frantic kiss as he—
Logan gasped in surprise as he came, trembling with the sheer force and overwhelming pleasure of his release. Thinking something so wrong shouldn't have felt this good. He should have been picturing himself with some pretty girl, with long hair knotted in a gentle braid, legs a mile long, and a soft, supple chest, but the ones he craved were all hard planes and rippled muscles. To be honest, though, Logan couldn't bring himself to care anymore; his attraction to men had long since stopped bringing him panic or despair. Now it was more of a light ache that occasionally manifested itself as momentary discomfort.
The high drifted away slowly, and Logan had hoped it would send the boy from his thoughts until later. But instead, the post-orgasm bliss simply brought new mental pictures to the surface; pictures of cuddling, of light teasing, of soft kisses. Of whispered affections.
You don't even know him, Logan thought sadly. You're pathetic.
Frowning slightly at the mess he made, Logan quickly set off to find a clean tunic.
After grabbing a fresh outfit (one of his most expensive and his favorite) and a small bit of bread and an apple from the kitchen, Logan returned to his room where he promptly stripped himself of his soiled tunic (thankfully, it wasn't too noticeable. At least, not to anyone who didn't look closely).
He was strolling around his room, devouring his light snack, attempting to find ways to make the time go by, when the servant showed up.
"Young Master Wright, I—" the man, Aristus, stopped short, pausing at the doorway into Logan's room. Unfortunately, for this servant anyway, he was new and unused to things such as this. Many of the other slaves residing in the Wright home had been with them since before Logan's birth, and many had been around since he'd been little, so a naked Logan wasn't much of a spectacle. "I beg your pardon, sir. I was unaware—"
"It's perfectly all right," Logan assured. Because he actually liked his body and was completely unashamed of it, Logan didn't even feel the slightest inclination to cover up or feel embarrassed in any way. He actually basked in the awkward shifting of the servant before him.
"Um, a young Mister Seigerson is here to see you," Aristus said, doing all he could to advert his eyes away from Logan.
"Send him in," Logan said with a shrug.
"Would you like me to give you a moment to—" he gestured to Logan.
Logan smiled and shook his head. "No. It's perfectly all right. Derek's seen me do far worse things naked than simply walk around my room."
"Yes, Young Master," Aristus bowed one last time to Logan, before leaving quickly.
Derek strutted in a few moments later, not even batting an eye at Logan's current state of undress.
"I don't see why your slave felt the need to request permission for me to enter your chambers." Derek rolled his eyes. "I practically live here during the summer."
"Oh, don't mind Aristus," Logan waved dismissively. "He's new. Doesn't know all the quirks and habits yet. He'll get used to it." Logan grabbed his bronze tunic off his bed.
"…Is there any reason you're wearing your best chiton?" Derek asked with a cocked eyebrow as Logan slipped into his new attire. Logan felt himself blush and tightened the belt about his waist, accidentally pulling a little too hard and letting out a loud, "Oof!"
Logan cleared his voice after a moment and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "No reason. I just like this one is all. Father and I have things to do this afternoon, and I need to look decent."
"You haven't worn it for casual wear since you were trying to woo that Blaine Anderson boy." Derek's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "What are you doing with your father this afternoon, anyway?"
"Nothing important," Logan said, taking a large bit of his apple. "Just picking up a new slave."
"Another one? Don't you have enough scampering about this place?" Derek laughed, flopping down onto Logan's bed.
"I suppose," Logan said. "But this one will be for my use only."
"How did you talk your father into that?"
"I didn't talk him into anything. He promised me anything I wanted if I went to the play yesterday, and I requested a personal slave."
"I wish I could be a stubborn brat like you and still get everything I wanted."
"I don't get everything I want," Logan mumbled. If I did, I'd be allowed to marry any boy I wanted. "I still have yet to receive a new javelin set. And I haven't been allowed to swap out my lyre for a kithara."
"Well, unless you plan on taking up musical professionally—which, you've been adamant against from the start—I can see your father won't waste his money on a kithara. And if you wanted new javelins so badly, why didn't you ask for them instead of a slave?" Derek pointed out. "All you'd have to do is ask your father to use one of your house slaves as your own. What about that Aristus? He seems like he'd be well enough."
"You don't understand," Logan sighed. "This slave is…different. It's not just about having someone to wait on me. I want a companion. Someone I can talk to."
For a moment, Logan was concerned Derek would be offended for calling him ill company. Instead, the other boy was gaping at him.
"What?" Logan said, bristling under Derek's judgmental gaze.
"You're going after that slave from the marketplace, aren't you?" Derek demanded, voice full of contempt and disbelief. "The one you bought the fruit for."
"Now, what would make you think a thing like that?" Logan admonished, but he knew Derek could tell he was avoiding the question.
"Because of the way you looked at him when you first saw him," Derek said quickly, jumping up from Logan's bed and following the other man's adverted stare. "It was as though you'd just found the most beautiful wood nymph frolicking through a field, as if you'd heard the enchanting call of a siren, as though the heavens themselves had opened up—"
"You, my friend, are exaggerating," Logan grumbled. "I most certainly did not look like that."
"Oh, but you did," Derek told him. "It was almost endearing, had it been directed at a person you'd be able to marry." Logan's eyes flashed with anger, hardening into carved emerald. Derek was well aware of all of Logan's secrets, and now he was toeing the line of what was reasonable berating and what would get him thrown against a wall. "Or have you forgotten that?"
"I don't see you settling down any time soon," Logan hissed.
"In case you hadn't noticed, I've been getting better. Only one or two liaisons a week now. However, my attractions will be able to bear me children one day. The same cannot be said for yours."
"Shut up."
"Logan." Derek sounded sad, almost pitying. It infuriated Logan. "Look, I have no problems whatsoever with the fact that you like…men. And I'm sure there are others who wouldn't care either, but your father has been trying to get you to settle down for a while now and give him grandchildren. He won't pay for you to live a life of laziness and tomfoolery forever, you know."
"I am well aware of this," Logan said. "And it worries me every day that he'll walk in here and kick me out with nothing but the clothes on my back and small bit of money to help me get through the first few days. The only thing that has stopped him is the fact that I still have a year and a half of tutoring before I begin an apprenticeship."
"A year and a half goes by faster than you know, Logan," Derek warned. Derek stood and began to walk out. "I hope you realize what you're doing." Then he left, tunic swishing lightly as he did so.
"I hope I do too, Derek," Logan said aloud once he was sure Derek wouldn't hear him. "I hope I do too."
Antipatros' home was like that of typical Greek estate; two floors with high windows, clay-tiled roof, and a large courtyard protected by a gate attached to the sides of the house. Quaint, elegant, and lovely, Logan supposed, though he did love his home much more since it wasn't quite so traditional. But it certainly wasn't sore on the eyes as Logan and his father made their way up the path.
Father had sent out a messenger earlier in the day asking for a meeting with him, and Antipatros had responded quickly with an affirmation of the request. So when they finally halted before the gates, it took the slaves hardly any time to usher them into the courtyard.
"We shall fetch our master right away," the fat man Logan recognized from the marketplace said. He eyed Logan suspiciously right before departing, and Logan responded to him with his most dazzling grin. He only allowed a hint of disdain to creep into it.
Logan's father caught onto his antagonistic behavior almost immediately. "Stop that. You're at the age where you should be acting more like a grown man, Logan, not a child."
"I apologize, Father," Logan answered, though it was more an automatic response than a sincere one. He really had no regret towards his action at all.
"John!" a tall man with bulging muscles, soft blue eyes, and a full, fiery red beard that matched his long mane of hair thundered as he stepped into the courtyard.
"Antipatros," John said, offering his hand to the large man. The other man pushed it aside and enveloped John in a bear hug.
"I haven't seen you in ages," Antipatros said. "Though I suppose we've both been rather busy, haven't we?"
"Unfortunately so," John said. "We should get together for a game of Capaneus. I rather miss those."
"I'll bring the wine if you bring the women." Antipatros laughed. Then his attention shifted to Logan. "Well now. This couldn't possibly be young Logan, now could it? The small boy who used to frolic about your courtyard?"
"The one and the same," John said, patting Logan on the back in a rare gesture of almost pride.
"You've turned into a rather striking young man." Antipatros beamed at Logan. Logan couldn't help but return the man's smile. "I told you he'd be a lady killer. I'm sure you've got dozens of maidens just begging for the opportunity to be your wife." He winked a cornflower blue eye at Logan.
"A few, yes," Logan said bashfully. And it was true. Though he hardly returned the affections. "But I'm attempting to focus on my studies before settling down. I'd like to be able to provide the type of life for my children that my father has done for me, if not better." John actually seemed quite pleased at this explanation. He'd probably use it the next time someone questioned Logan's motivation.
"That's what I like to see in the youth! Ambition! Not willing to settle for any less than the absolute best!" Antipatros grabbed Logan's hand in a firm grasp. "I'm sure your father is proud to call you his son."
"Who wouldn't?" John shrugged, though Logan knew better than anyone the answer to that was John himself.
"Now, I enjoy good banter as much as the next man, but your letter said you required business?" Antipatros' demeanor changed from open and friendly to a little more closed off and reserved. He was still easy to talk to, but one could tell he wasn't the type of person to dawdle for too long.
"Yes, it did," John said simply. "You see, Logan has made a request from me, and I feel obliged to indulge him in it. I hardly spoil him anymore, you see, as he's grown up so quickly, but this is something I felt he's earned after all the hard work he's put into his studies and being such a model son."
Lying comes so easily to you, Father. It's no wonder Mother doesn't trust a damn thing that tongue of yours says, Logan thought bitterly.
"Oh? And what would that be?"
"Why don't you explain what you would like to Antipatros, son?" John deflected to Logan. The blond boy bit back his sneer at his father's blatantly attempt to reverse his decision. It was so like John to wait until he had Logan in front of an audience to embarrass him.
But Logan wasn't backing down. Not from this.
"I would like a slave for myself," Logan explained. "One that will answer only to me and my orders."
"And why not go to the slave trader?" Antipatros asked. The man paused for a moment, then added, "Unless there is a particular slave you are looking for?"
"That would be the case," Logan said. "I met him in the marketplace yesterday. I do not know his name, but I could pick him out easily enough—"
"No need," Antipatros interrupted. "I know which slave you speak of. Capaneus?" He turned to the stout man. Capaneus bowed immediately.
"Yes, Master?"
"Fetch me Julian."
Logan sucked in a harsh breath. Julian. A name shouldn't have had such an effect on him, but the way it rolled around in his ears and danced about his brain was enticing. A beautiful name would fit the beautiful boy.
"At once," Capaneus said and bowed once more before darting into the home.
Antipatros and Logan's father started making small talk once more after a few moments of silence. Logan, however, kept a watchful eye on the door, hoping to see a familiar mop of brown hair rush through the door.
"Did you hear that Bakchos was price gauging again?" Antipatros shook his head.
"Will that man ever learn to be fair?" John sighed. "He makes more than enough to support his family and maintain a leisurely life. Why must he prey on the less fortunate to satisfy his vices?"
"I don't know, but as much as that man drinks and gambles, it doesn't surprise me that he'd resort to such misdeeds. Gambling is probably one of our greatest downfalls. It's how I acquired the theater production and a few of my slaves."
"Really?"
"Yes, Travis—you remember him, of course?—who owned it before, borrowed from me and then couldn't pay me back. He was a friend, so I trusted him and lent out much more than I should have. Poor man had to give me just about everything he owned."
"That's tragic," John said. "We're getting worse and worse with each generation."
"Undoubtedly so," Antipatros agreed. "Hopefully, though, there will be more men like your son in the next generation to come, and we'll have a little hope left."
"Oh, I doubt we're to the point yet. It will probably be a few more kin down the line before that will happen." To Antipatros and any other who would have been listening, it would have seemed to be a compliment. To Logan, however, it was biting insult. Of course, Logan allowed his father's words not to affect him on the outside—though inside, it left quite a welt on his pride—and continued to act indifferent.
He even managed to remain unaffected, though only just, even when Capaneus returned with the boy in tote, scolding him harshly.
"When I tell you to come with me, you do so!" Capaneus practically screeched.
"You didn't say the master required my presence," the boy scoffed. "You simply found me and demanded I follow you. Last time I check, you were not my master."
"But you do owe me your respect!"
"Julian," Antipatros one was stern, yet almost fond, like a father scorning his child lightly for a small mistake. The boy—Julian, Logan told himself, almost giddy at how perfect a name this boy's parents chose for him—dipped for a low bow. Capaneus sneered with satisfaction and was dismissed by Antipatros with a slight nod of his head.
"Yes, Master?"
"Do not aggravate Capaneus. He's insufferable when you do so." Antipatros and Julian both smiled, as if this were a joke between the two o them.
"If he did not treat me as though I were not good enough to clean the scum off his feet, maybe I would be more inclined to treat him with a bit more dignity," Julian answered. His tone was utterly polite and even, not a single hint of malice or hatred seeping in.
It seems as though he's a better actor than even I figured, Logan realized thoughtfully. Such a talent was surely destined for more than the life of a slave.
"I understand, Julian," Antipatros said. His attention once again refocused on Logan. "This is the boy you wanted?" Only then did Julian seem to acknowledge the other two men in the courtyard. His eyes passed over John with ease, but came to a sudden halt on Logan. Logan's cheeks began to flush as Julian's façade broke, absolute disgust and incredulity finding their way into the sharp angles and soft curves of his face.
"Yes," Logan answered curtly.
"He is perhaps one of my best boys," Antipatros said wistfully. "I've had him most of his life, since he was around seven or eight. I'm afraid to say I won't part with him easily. Are you sure you don't wish to take your business to the slave trader? As I said before, I'm sure he could find you an adequate boy."
"Son?" John prodded, eyes watching Logan with a piqued curiosity. Probably to see how sincere Logan was in his wish.
Hesitation held him for only a brief moment; then the bruise beneath Julian's eyes and the matching bruise beneath that was sure to be beneath his tunic from where the man kicked him yesterday madehim stronger, more assured in his decision.
"No. He is the one I want," Logan said briskly. "I haven't been this sure in a while." Not since I realized how much I prefer my own gender over the opposite.
"I will give you one talent for him." Logan's eyes went wide.
A whole talent?
"You can't be serious, John," Antipatros said. "Six hundred drachmas? For one slave boy?"
"I'm not merely buying my son a slave; I am buying him…" John stopped, as if searching for the right word. "…a 'companion,' so to speak. And if he wishes for this boy, then so it shall be."
Antipatros seemed lost in thought. He kept looking between Logan and the boy Julian, his eyes lingering on Julian. Julian stared back, as though pleading for him to say no. The fondness from between them grew, amplified to almost a father-son level. Almost.
"...Only a fool would turn down such an offer," Antipatros said. "And I pride myself on being a fairly intelligent man." He brought a heavy hand down on Julian's shoulder. "I believe we have a deal."
"I will need a day or so to give you your money, so we will come back for the boy—"
"Oh, John, I know you have more than enough money to pay me," Antipatros murmured. "Julian…go gather your things."
"But Master—"
"You have a new master now," Antipatros said remorsefully. He raised sorrowful eyes to Logan's and added, "And I expect him to be good to you." An unspoken, Or else, hung in the air, a promise more than a threat. Logan and his father said nothing. This was an exchange between a slave and his now former master. Too intrude would be not only distasteful, but an outright breech of etiquette.
Julian's shoulders slumped marginally, disappointment and resignation coming off him in waves.
"Yes, sir," he said. Then he made to speak to John, but the older man shook his head before he could and gestured to Logan.
"He is your master," John explained. "Not I."
Julian reluctantly turned to Logan. His voice was completely void of emotion, but those bright eyes gave away his anger. "I will be right back…Master."
Logan was silent for a few moments, before he realized everyone was watching him in anticipation of how he would handle this next step. Because that boy was his slave, who would only listen to him. Not his father or his mother. Just Logan. Owning a slave was a huge responsibility, and one Logan was not going to fuck up.
"Very good then," Logan said, mimicking his father's tone when talking to slaves. "Hurry back. I don't like to be kept waiting."
"Of course, Master. I shall be but a moment," Julian said obediently. He bowed to all three of the men, before rushing back into the house.
"Very good, Logan," John commended.
"Very, very good," Antipatros agreed. "A few words of caution: Julian is an incredibly stubborn and prideful boy. At least as far as slaves go. He will do whatever you say, of course, but his attitude while attending to it will depend on how he is treated. You can see with Capaneus he is brash and borderline rude; that is because Capaneus treats him as such, while with me, he is polite and courteous. This might be because I am at the very top of the hierarchy of power in this house, but I don't believe it so. Julian is just as polite to the other slaves as he is to me if they act towards him in a civil manner. Treat him right, and he will be perhaps the best servant you could ever ask for; treat him poorly and he will be mediocre at best."
"And why would you buy him if his behavior is such?" John asked. "It seems to be like he'd be a terrible purchase…" Logan could tell from his father's voice that was his he was pleased by this revelation. Perhaps because owning such a difficult servant would teach Logan a lesson or two about patience and obedience. There might have been a slightly bit of regret at having spent so much on an arrogant slave, but not a great deal.
Antipatros shook his head. "I did not buy him. He was part of the payment from the theater."
"Really?" John laughed. "Travis would own such a rueful slave.
"Oh, he wasn't Travis' slave," Antipatros said softly. "He was his son."
"What? You mean to say that boy—"
"Is the son of Travis and Dolce Armstrong," Antipatros nodded. "He typically goes by his mother's maiden name—Larson—when asked, to cover up any possible connection. He doesn't take kindly to pity."
And don't I know it, Logan thought gloomily.
Julian was out soon after that, a small cloth bag hanging from his shoulder.
"…I am ready," he announced. Then, as if an afterthought, added , "Master."
"Go ahead, Logan," John said. "Take him home and get him set up. Since he is yours, he will be sleeping in your chambers, I assume." Logan nodded swiftly. "All right. I'm going to stay a little longer to talk with Antipatros and set up a payment plan for the boy. "
"Yes, Father," Logan said. "Come along." He motioned for Julian to follow him. The brown-eyed boy seemed to debate whether to listen or not and looked to Antipatros for assurance. The large man smiled sadly once more, before a small jerk of his chin told Julian to follow.
"Right away, Master," Julian sighed. The two exited through the gate, Julian give the estate a final once-over. Then they began to journey to the Wright home.
"You will like it at my house," Logan said as they passed through the city. Julian said nothing in return. "We treat our slaves well. Many of them are more like family than they are property—"
"Why are you doing this?" Julian asked loudly, pausing in the middle of the street. It was a side street, so there weren't many people around, but the few who were stopped and stared. "I say I never want to see you again, and you answer with finding and buying me for your personal use. What do you think you're accomplishing?
I'm saving you, Logan's brain answered. I'm trying to give you a better life. Although after the display in the courtyard, Logan wondered if he really was making the right choice. But then the events of yesterday played out in his mind, the cut on the boy's lip disgusting puffed out and discolored. So Logan set his jaw firmly as he answered, "Righting an injustice."