Disclaimer: I don't own "A Discovery of Witches" or any of the show/book's characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I wanted to examine Baldwin's backstory and his relationship with Philippe. This is really just a study about their father/son relationship and how much Baldwin misses him.
Warnings: family, death of a parental figure, mourning, loss, vampires, vampire turning, blood drinking, animal traits and behaviors, canon appropriate violence, drama, angst.
Inmarcesible
Chapter Two
"Have I ever taken you hunting, Lucius?" Philippe asked as their chargers took them deeper into the Germanic woods. The trees here were suffocating and dense. Thick with moss and old growth. Where every bend in the trail ran the risk of yawning into weed-choked ravines that dropped violently into rocks and fallen trees.
More than one of their men had broken bones on patrol, but as always Philippe seemed in his element. Watching the woods with a keen eye. A hunter's eye. A reminder in of itself that he should have been looking out for game. Only everything about the situation prickled the hair on the back of his neck.
He offered a quick prayer to the gods, promising a generous offering when he returned to Rome. Asking for guidance and patience as Philippe chuckled. The shadows of the forest yawning strangely across his face. Darkening his eyes until they were almost-
Panis, autem comminuetur verum est erratum.
He said nothing, remaining weary. Wondering if this was one of Philippe's strange moods or if there was something he wasn't seeing. His eyes flicked to the tension under his Commander's charming smile and amended his assumptions. Perhaps both.
"Are we not expected back, sir?"
Philippe's grin was gregarious.
"Indulge me, Lucius. You're with me, your duties are handled," Philippe replied, meeting his stare for a significant moment before his gaze flicked to where his wound itched. Chaffing under the familiar weight of his armor. "Do you want to go back? Does your wound pain you?"
He shook his head. Aware the man's shift in humor had started after he'd received the injury. He'd never seen him so angry. For it had been Philippe himself who'd dealt the final blow to his attacker. It had happened so fast he hadn't seen him move. He remembered reeling away, roaring in pain. Back burning after being nearly quartered from behind. His sword slashed through a back-swing, trying to parry the strike he knew was coming, but somehow Philippe was already there. Standing in front of him like a second shield despite being yards away fighting only seconds earlier. Deflecting the swing of the man's ax before launching himself at the giant Gaul with a sound that was more animal than man.
But then, he'd heard it before.
Only not so loud or vicious.
They never discussed it.
"You didn't bring your bow," he observed, choosing his words carefully. The undercurrent was obvious. At risk of being downright sullen, in fact.
Philippe only smiled again.
Like he was proud of him.
"No. I didn't," Philippe agreed. Doing nothing to answer the unspoken question before clicking to his mount and pressing forward.
His molars ground together, but he followed.
Philippe led him to a natural clearing beside a small stream, motioning for him to dismount. He hobbled the horses without comment, allowing them room to graze. Stretching carefully before crouching down to cup a mouthful of water from the bank. Hissing at the chill against his teeth.
His back still burned, but he forced himself embrace it. It was a reminder of how lucky he'd been. A reminder to train harder. To be better. To remember that no matter how skilled, one moment of distraction could be the end. He still didn't understand how Philippe had reached him so quickly. It was not in him to deconstruct that problem of logic and time. But what he did know was in the days after, he often found the Commander watching him.
He wondered why.
What had changed?
What he had done?
He wondered about lot of things.
Including if the blur he'd seen out of the corner of his eye as he'd turned could have been-
"How long have you been with me, Lucius?" Philippe asked, joining him by the water with two horned cups and a large wine skin. Adjusting his scabbard as he sat beside him, back to a wide oak.
"Five years sir," he answered, not hesitating to drink when his was filled liberally. Nodding appreciatively as they took a deep draught. Philippe had expensive taste and the truth was, he'd never tasted wine as good as what he enjoyed in his company.
"Before the Siege of Alesia?" the man posed casually. Despite knowing full well that was true.
He eyed him for a significant moment before turning his attention back to the stream. He would play along with Philippe's game. For now. But he wouldn't hide that he knew he was being toyed with. Philippe had his loyalty and respect, but he was not like the other hangers on. Happy to indulge him in every way. Desperate to gain favor as the sycophants only grew in number after every victory. He could not and would not follow suit. His pride demanded at least that separation between them. And what was more, he felt his Commander liked him more for it.
"Yes sir, you named me to your council a year before, if you remember?"
The needling slid off Philippe's back like water.
Yet another reminder of how different he was from most high-born.
They didn't like to be challenged by their underlings.
But then, Philippe had never balked at his attempts.
"Of course...of course. But you truly distinguished yourself during the Siege. I was surprised the Emperor didn't send you his personal congratulations. It was your strategy that won the battle after all," Philippe replied, grinning at him with a line of teeth that seemed more savage than amused. As if he'd not meant it as a jape, but rather knew exactly why such an honor might not have been bestowed.
He inclined his head. Watching Philippe knock back the rest of his wine with a dark look. Refilling their cups, despite his not being half-let.
And again, the hair on the small of his neck prickled. His Commander loved wine, that was a fact that was beyond reproach. But usually he nursed his cups. Appreciating the expensive vintage. But not today.
Why?
What had him in such a state?
There was a rumor he and the Emperor no longer saw eye to eye. The politics should have been understandable, even to a low-born like him, but for some reason they remained murky. He had personally looked into it and found that the explanation of the Emperor feeling threatened by Philippe's growing power wasn't wholly satisfying. The reason - or at least the full reason for the divide - seemed steeped in a rivalry that went far beyond what appeared on the surface.
It was a shadow play that was not meant for his eyes.
But he wanted it to be.
He was hungry to know.
Anything and everything that was beyond him, he wanted to conquer – to understand.
Either way, he cared little about the lost honorifics. The green boy he'd been might have. Indeed, he could guarantee it. He'd dreamt about it a hundred times as a child. Of gaining the Emperor's notice. But not anymore. Experience had taught him the only thing that mattered was having the trust of his Commander and the ability to plan the campaigns ahead. He lived for this. For the blood and the challenge of it all. Here, in the thick of things, a man could truly be free.
Fools gold attracted fools, after all.
"I have no desire for accolades from a distant Emperor," he answered, letting the wine sit in his tongue before swallowing. Enjoying the spice of cinnamon, citrus and clove. "From someone I do not fight beside. I might carry my sword in his name, but his praise means no more to me than a god-wind. Meaningless- unless I know which deity to thank or curse for it."
Philippe's eyes shone. Glinting strangely as the sun wreathed through the trees.
"No. You value praise from other mouths."
He said nothing. Some things didn't need to be said. Especially when they rang with truth.
"And so," Philippe hummed, breaking the quiet. Leather sandals biting into the river clay as he nudged his shoulder companionably. "In all the time, what is your assessment of my character?"
He stilled in mid-swallow. One of the horses nickered, as if encouraging caution. Feeling a charge in the air that seemed to be building like a cusping storm.
"Come now, I crave your opinion. I always have. And gods know you never shy away from sharing it when it suits you," the man continued, smile still in place. But he didn't believe it.
Anger curled in him for the first time.
"You are toying with me," he rasped, hand tightening around his cup.
Philippe's eyes flashed. Pupils just a bit too wide and dark for them to equal the easy smile that was still present on his face. Every inch of it belaying a challenge. An order. A threat. And he still didn't understand why.
"I will have your thoughts, Lucius."
He swallowed, throat dry despite the wine.
"No."
The refusal stung coming up. Like it had cost him something to refuse him.
"No?" Philippe echoed, head cocking slightly. Dangerously. Inhaling audibly, as if scenting the air like one of the hounds at camp.
He lowered his cup with a jerk, spilling red that beaded between his fingers and spattered across the river rocks. Meeting his Commander's eyes with flint and sharpness.
"You have my love, my loyalty and my sword. Someday you may have my life as well. But you shame me, now. You mock me. You know me. You know my mind. You helped shape it. But you will not have my pride without reason. Not this way. Don't ask me to flatter you, Commander. Tell me why we're here. What need do you have of me? What orders? I will do it gladly. But do not insult my intelligence. You owe me that at least."
He wasn't trembling. But in truth, it was a near thing. He couldn't remember having felt such a tangle of negative emotions in all his life. The wound on his back tugged painfully with every exaggerated inhale as Philippe exhaled audibly beside him. He looked away, then- forced himself to maintain the man's gaze. Refusing to back down, regardless of what his words much have cost him.
The huffing laugh caught him by surprise anyway. Not knowing what to think when Philippe nodded, then reached for him. Resting a firm hand on his gauntlet as he smiled truly this time. Giving him the space to clear the roughness from his throat as Philippe refilled his cup with an easy flourish. As if it had been a test all along.
"Good man..."
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be one more chapter.
Reference:
- Panis, autem comminuetur verum est erratum: Latin for "No, he must be mistaken."
- The Siege of Alesia: It was the last major engagement between Gauls and Romans, and is considered one of Caesar's greatest military achievements and a classic example of siege warfare and investment. The battle of Alesia marked the end of Gallic independence in France and Belgium.