Note: Let's face it, I won't be able to update every week, however, I do not plan to quit this any time soon.

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

Added note: A special thanks to Julius G for their always lovely review! I did take account to the name and yes, that sounds about right! Shout out to bucca2 and ayy to my homie bulletincookie who is still helping me out in this! 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!

Feliciano hopped onto the cushioned bed, throwing the light sheets up and above him. A half-asleep Romano grunted in response. The little boy smiled and shivered, tucking the blankets tighter under his chin even if it was a particularly warm night. He curled up next to his brother's unwelcoming back.

Feliciano had shivered from the excitement, whether it was from completing his most precious task of the night or from the day's unusual turn of events, he would not know. All he knew was that he was not quite sleepy yet for his mind worked through thought after perplexing thought, all concerning his mother, his father, and the new slave from Serica.

He rolled onto his back and looked up at the painted ceiling. The dull plaster was brightened with images of ripe grapes, twisted vines, citrus fruits and galloping stallions; all of Romano's favorite things. A majestic Apollo with his sun chariot guarded the elegantly barred window, kissed with the light of his sister moon.

Some dog barked in a distant neighbor's domus, disturbing the light peace.

"Romano?" Feliciano whispered.

Romano sighed heavily in response.

"Do you think mamma would like the new slave?" Feliciano asked. He could not see Romano's eyes open and expression scrunch up in a frown.

"Pater seems to like him a lot," the little pudgy boy continued. His chilled little toes curling around each other. "Mamma always liked seeing pater happy, remember? He would be happy and she would be happy. And when she would be sad, pater would—"

"I don't care!" Romano spun around under the sheets to glare at him. Feliciano turned and scooted away on instinct. Romano huffed. "Shut up and go to sleep or I'm kicking you out of my bed and onto the floor!"

Feliciano looked at him with a small pout. Any other night, Romano's words would be a harmless threat, but Feliciano knew better. He could see it in in his brother's eyes. That perfect mix of his father's golds and his mother's greens, glaring at him with hurt and anger.

"Sorry," Feliciano muttered regretfully.

Romano scoffed and tugged his sheets over himself more forcefully, turning to give his brother his unwelcoming back once again. Feliciano gave him his back in turn.

Romano did not have letters or offerings to cope. When his mother died, it seemed she had taken his patience with her. His adopted bravado attitude made him seem unapproachable, but it was clear that he was a far more sensitive spirit. Covering his feelings with bouts of anger and tough words was only being done in vain. He let out a long sigh, willing himself not to cry.

And as the stars glittered above, Heracles remained below, his arms cradling his neck and head and his cats warming his chest. He swung lazily in the makeshift hammock he constructed between two pomegranate trees, already hung from big ripening fruits. Soon, his father would complain of the heat. The slaves would pack up their things and they would leave to their villa where the air was cooler near the shore.

The stars winked at him as they disappeared and reappeared between the branches with each swing. Heracles wondered how the stars, mysterious, revered and vast as they were, were easily obstructed from view by a simple leaf.

It was best to dwell in these aimless thoughts. Anything to distract himself from the mother that he lost and the only real friend he had and distanced himself from. His soft swinging came to a standstill. His friend once told him that he was under those same stars no matter where he was, using them as guides to cross seas and deserts.

And always return to him.

Heracles let out a light fond scoff. The idiot. What a selfish way to make it seem that he was always there, winking at him, spreading that toothy, sparkling grin of his and telling him even more idiotic, selfish things. We'd travel the world you and I. Heracles pushed at the floor with the ball of his foot, gently swaying the hammock again. He wondered if his mother would approve of him comparing stars to that of his friend's gaze above him.

Yao let out a startled gasp and immediately sat upright. His tussled long hair swishing behind him. He groaned softly as he rubbed his sore, tired eyes. The source of the nightly disturbance wailed again. Octavius' youngest was having a troublesome night too. Yao felt his heart quicken at the sound for he was reminded of a time when Xiao and Mei were younger, and his babes so newly adopted, would cry for him, frightened to spend the first nights alone.

Yao sighed. Surely, a nursemaid would tend to the little one. He grunted as he settled down on his cot again and pulled a sheet over him. The babe continued, making Yao frown. He could not help but feel a certain tug towards the cry. After all, he had his fair share of colicky, feverish, or fussy nights. He could be of help, no matter his current place in the household.

Just as Yao had made up his mind, sitting up and smoothing his hair down to be at least somewhat presentable to the rest of the household, the wails quieted down. Yao relaxed his shoulders, staring wistfully at the closed door. The cries, although softened now, did not quite stop, even as Yao lay his head on the pillow again. He closed his eyes, though he could not sleep.

Yao rose with the sun. Coming from an agricultural village, it was habit above everything. If he woke up early as a silk merchant, the more road he was able to travel. Today, waking up as a slave, it was simply expected, Yao knew. And sure enough, Sophus was summoning him just as he slipped into his altered tunic.

The kitchen was just beginning to rise as well. The warmth coming from freshly burning timber in the ovens to bake the bread. Some younger slaves were wiping down counters and bowls. A casket of wine was being brought in by a much larger slave and a few others fretted over a cat whose fangs carried a dead mouse. Yao looked over and noted how the Daqin did not have tealeaves or rice at hand, a staple in his village. Despite all the initial focus on their work, Yao could not help but notice that their eyes tended to linger on him as he approached them. It was something he needed to get used to, he supposed, no matter how unsettling it was.

Sophus approached him with a tray bearing a light meal. One consisting of bread, cheese, sliced pear and milk. It was unlike the breakfasts he had back home, meals he had taken for granted, although that pear was a welcome sight.

"Is this my master's morning meal?" Yao asked.

"No," Sophus chuckled quite amusedly. "That is yours. You can't serve your master without energy, can you?" He also needed to build his physique and add fat to his cheeks but Sophus didn't bother pointing that out loud.

Yao looked at the tray in disbelief, his thin brow contorting in worry and gratitude. The slave traders had rarely given him food that would suffice the amount of traveling they'd do. All he could remember was thickly swallowing dry bread and the rare piece of jerky that they probably stole from other merchants for months on end. With two good meals for two days straight and the mere fact that he is expected to eat before he worked was enough to make him feel a little overwhelmed. And to Yao, this tray was a feast fit for an emperor.

"Although I would sit further away from the rest of them," Sophus muttered in confidence. "You haven't been exactly, er, officially welcomed here."

Yao meekly nodded, still looking at the food, his food. Did he even eat this well at home? Yao briefly wondered if this was a cruel and clever mind-trick played by the master. Always feed your slaves better food than what they could have back home. Why would they escape such a place?

Escape. Perhaps Yao can better mull things over when he has had his first filling meal of the day.

"I rather not," Yao answered. "If I am to be head of domus, I sit with my fellow slaves."

He took his seat amidst the calm, steady early morning bustle of the kitchen, where a few others, the nursemaids and such, were having an equally light breakfast on well-worn table and chairs. They stopped their conversations to look on at the boldness of the Seres man. Even the cook and her assistant stopped washing the lentils to have a gander.

A moment of silence passed before a young slave, the man who had tried cutting Yao's hair yesterday, stood up defiantly and walked away. "I may be a slave and he my future superior but I don't sit with his kind," he announced. One or two others followed his lead with bitter scowls of their own. Yao tore a piece of his bread and reveled in its warm softness.

Everyone else continued about their business, leaving the Seres man alone for now. Sophus served himself his share and sat across from Yao. The nursemaids did not bother to budge for they were exhausted after a night spent dealing with Marcello's habitual crying.

Sophus began to eat calmly. "Were you born a freeman Yao?" he asked, acting as if the tense moment had not occurred at all. Yao swallowed his food to answer, but his focus was set on the nursemaids' conversation.

"He cries when he doesn't need to," the youngest of the three pouted. "You think he cries for the mother he never knew?"

"Perhaps someone gave him the Evil Eye," the other muttered. "That's right, we took him to the market without his bulla some days ago! The nerve of some people!"

Europa tsked and drank her water, her brow furrowing deeper than usual. "Give him to me and I will give him a reason to cry."

Now it was Yao's turn to frown deeply, concentrating on her tone of voice. The implication! Whatever she does for discipline, must be reserved for discipline. The babe cannot be put to blame for his own faults. Yao cannot recall when he swatted Xiao and Mei because they cried for no apparent reason. In fact, there was always a reason why they cried, he as the guardian needed to find out what.

In his growing frustration, Yao stood up with his hands on the table to keep him steady. He turned to Europa with a glare, his mind whirring to work a sentence into Latine speech. "You will not touch that child," he muttered, stumbling over a word once. "If you attend to children, you see that he is."

Old Europa had met his glare, her frown never faltering in the brief confrontation. Her pride injured for being called out by the master's whore.

"The child sleeps well during the day," Yao continued, softening his tone. "Because he is not sleeping well at night. At night he lulls himself to sleep by crying himself hoarse. He needs company. He needs to feel safe."

Because that is what Xiao and Mei did. They had learnt to sleep in their beds on their own.

This, however, contradicted Europa's views on childrearing entirely. She scoffed and crossed her arms. "What do you know about children?" she sneered. The nursemaids looked down in shame, for they were told by her to not tend to the child so quickly when he cried. Certainly, Octavius has not opposed this, but when was he ever present for his children?

"Enough," Yao answered sternly, his eyes narrowing at the older woman. It was clear neither of them was going to back down. Another brief yet tense, quiet moment and one by one, the slaves returned to their business. Yao relaxed his shoulders and looked down to his plate. He could not afford to waste energy on a bitter slave.

Sophus cleared his throat, and returned to his plate, his previous question set aside for now while the Seres man ate in silence.

And as the morning sun rose higher and the slave's dining table cleared to begin other chores, Sophus approached Yao once more with another tray. "This is the master's morning meal," he explained. The tray had also a modest amount of food, similar to what he had just eaten. Yao rose a brow at this. The only item of luxury was a spoon dipped in a glob golden honey, ready to eaten or stirred into his milk.

"You will deliver this to his bedside," Sophus nodded when Yao carefully balanced the tray with his hands. He followed Sophus out and down past the tablinum and into the grand cubicula after two short knocks.

The room was not much larger than the sons' cubicula but the décor in the walls were more ornate and displayed beautiful scenery of some distant cliffside villa where waves rolled calmly onto shores and grapevines grew in neat rows on hillsides. The images seemed to lead the eyes to the center of the room, and there, the master's bed stood with twisted sheets covering a sun-kissed man laying stomach-down. He stirred only slightly in response to the brightening sun bleeding through barred windows. Yao lowered his gaze, out of respect of course, nothing to do with the fact that master apparently slept naked. Well, actually, it has all to do with the fact that the master slept naked.

Romulus rose when he pleased, that is, if the slaves will let him. He relied on their promptness to wake and get ready for the day. Had his wife been alive, he would have been coaxed out of pleasant slumber with kisses or harsh shoves, sometimes a bit of both. The slaves that had once attended to his wife to her morning duties now prepared breakfast for the children, leaving Sophus and no more than two other slaves to bring him his light breakfast and to help dress him in his toga.

Yao minded his own as he stood by with the breakfast tray at hand. Romulus peered blearily through the sheets when he dully sensed someone nearby. His gold eyes squinting, trying to readjust to the sudden brightness and the darker figure of the person at his side. Romulus was soon focusing on the beautiful creature before him, dutifully waiting on him.

He preferred the morning meal in bed, mostly because he can, but also because he rather not spend breakfast in the dining room alone with the children. Breakfast and dinner times were always shared with the light of his wife's eyes and the laughter of his children in the room.

But enough of that, what mattered was the now, and now he had a new slave to woo.

Romulus rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn, stretching his legs and arms until he felt relieving pops.

So perhaps he made a bit of a grand show of flexing his biceps somewhat, keeping his eyes half lidded, ruffling his bed ragged curls and hoped the "morning look" looked rather good on him. He only hoped that the sheets covered the parts where it mattered only to appear all the more enticing. He hid a smug smirk and let the slave imagine the rest.

However it took Yao a moment to realize what Romulus was doing, or rather intending to do. He could not help but raise his hand over his mouth as if he were covering a cough to brush away the amused scoff that escaped his throat. Romulus reminded him of the men in the days of his youth, those clearly flustered fools who'd use shows of physical prowess to impress him. Had he had the chance, he would have taken himself back to the bamboo forest where he'd meet with one who eventually did impress him.

Yao placed the tray gingerly on Romulus' lap and awaited with hands folded in front for more orders. Sophus then cleared his throat and beckoned for Yao to follow him. With eyes cast down, Yao bowed his head swiftly in self-dismissal and quietly sauntered off with that curious soundless footfalls.

Admittedly, Romulus was disappointed when he did not see a teasing blush, a small visible hint of fluster, in response to Romulus' showing off. Why, if he were Yao's age again, he would have been no redder than the skin of a pomegranate. Romulus did not consider himself vain, but he was confident in his overall look and form. He knew. He worked hard to achieve his current strong stature, yet he seldom used it unless it was entirely necessary. Like now, which didn't garner the deserved attention.

Sophus allowed himself the wide smile he was hiding in respect of his master's presence. Even with a slight shake of his shoulders to let out a small chuckle. This affirmed Yao of his suspicions, which made Yao smile pleasantly as well. But Sophus did not comment on it, so Yao kept his silence.

Sophus led him to a sort of storage room of sorts, one with hanging silken robes of colors only reserved for the elite. Even Yao hung his mouth slightly open in awe of the expensive colors Romulus owned. "You will learn how to wrap a toga," Sophus explained, taking one with red stripes at the end. He stretched and hummed in approval. "There are different ways to do it," he continued. "It depends on what our boss is going to do today. Well, today he will be out to meet with senators so the form will be more dignified. His preference really."

Yao nodded, adjusting his tunic, and followed the old Greek outside toward the peristyle.

Sophus collected all they needed from a few slaves finishing laundry that was supposed to be done yesterday. Sophus rolled his eyes at their imprudence, carrying the carefully folded silks on his arm and made Yao carry Octavius' clean sandals. "Because of that they are going to have a late breakfast and when one has a late breakfast they become irritable and when one snaps the whole household is put in a foul mood." He let out a scoff. "This is what you have to work with."

They reenter Romulus' bedroom with as much caution as before only to find him nearly finished with his breakfast. He slipped the spoon out of his mouth with a clean, loud pop and placed all the used utensils aside. He was ready to be dressed by Yao.

Only Yao hesitated and Sophus noticed this and turned to Romulus. "I must show him how first," he explained and Romulus sat at the edge of the bed with a simple sigh. Yao hesitantly took a step forward to pass Sophus the sandals, trying to focus on how he tied them and not so much on the master. When the sandals were tied, Romulus stood up tall and proud so that Sophus could begin helping him to slip into his clothes. Yao watched to learn, tried to learn.

He tried focusing on the manner in which Sophus wrapped the silk around Romulus' waist and shoulders. Those shoulders carried strength indeed, his inflated proud chest helped him notice the scars littered about and the patches of hair that grew on all the right places. To deny he was handsome was an outrageous lie, even Yao knew that. He must have been a soldier of some kind in his past. He wasn't so young for this to be untrue.

"Tomorrow you will do this," Romulus commented with Sophus' affirming nod. Romulus gestured lazily at Yao's altered attire. Yao's own body wasn't at all impressive, but that was expected. Romulus knew how most slaves were treated by bad dealers. Nothing to cry about now, he would provide Yao with high quality food and clothes. He would get better, appear healthier and perhaps then, get him to blush for him. The shine of his hair was something of his that was already repaired.

"And you would get rid of that tunic," he continued. "It is only proper for the head of domus to present himself as Roman as he can be."

Yao looked down on himself subconsciously and found truth in Romulus' words. Surprising how the master was not exactly offended because of alterations made to his tastes. Yao nodded. "Yes Octavius," he muttered.

Romulus allowed himself a small smile at the sound of Yao saying his name. "I won't return until late evening today," Romulus added. "Sophus, make sure my boys don't run into trouble. They are not allowed out unless they notify you first." As if Romulus needed to worry about daily excursions. The twins are not allowed out on their own unless accompanied by their elder brother and two, particularly strong, male servants. If Hercules did not wish to go out, none of them were allowed out. The only exception is of course attending their school which was a few blocks worth of walking down towards the city.

Sophus and Yao accompanied Romulus to the front door where the gatekeeper wished a sort of blessing from Mercury for safe travels and good business to come their master's way. Romulus personally felt lucky as Yao was there standing at the door before he left and will be at the door when he arrived.

Sophus smiled at Yao. "That went quite well," he commented. "Now, it's time to serve the children."