Atia, Queen of The Legion

Atia had been a slave, a personal consort to the Centurion Aurelius of Phoenix. Aurelius suffered some slight defeat, just a breach of conduct, merely some personal shame that did not reflect on the Legion as a whole. His record was previously spotless, and his offense private, so he was allowed to live, but as punishment Caesar stripped him of his personal slaves, and to humiliate him released them from their bondage.

They were numbering six, mostly girls, long since broken by the Legion. They had suffered monstrous indignities for the sake of what little comfort the Legion provided and now they were without even that. Five of them, left alone in the wasteland having long forgotten how to survive, died quickly. Atia was different, however. She was not the oldest nor the youngest. She was not the smartest or the strongest. She wasn't toughest or meanest, but unlike her doomed companions she was pregnant. The child was possibly the Centurion's, possibly not. He had allowed favored guests the full 'use' of her and her companions, and she in quiet rebellion had fornicated with any Legionary she could behind his back. She didn't know who the father was but she wasn't going to let her child die.

In a month death seemed certain, though. She was out of food. She was out of water. She didn't know where she was. She was delirious and unarmed. Her feet were swelling up and her back was shuddering in painful spasms. She could go no further and collapsed on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust in a ring around her body. She breathed the breath she assumed to be her last.

She assumed death felt like a cool splash of water but it turned out to instead actually be a cool splash of water. Someone was pouring water on her, clean water. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd collapsed.

Julia poured a bottle of purified water on the pregnant woman's face. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at Julia, with either an expression of gratitude or resentment. Julia crouched over her prone form, examining her. She was very thin, clearly malnourished. Also dehydrated. Her skin was very red, likely a sunburn. She also likely had heatstroke. She was about seven months pregnant, maybe only six. She was showing but it was exaggerated by her malnourishment. Her clothes were simple, a thin synthetic polyester dress tied to her body by a leather belt. She was pretty, in a thin-lipped aristocratic way. The ghost of her luxurious platinum-blonde hair still clung to her head. She had been sheltered, whoever she was.

"You need to eat something," Julia told her, handing her a bit of grilled toad meat, "Not too much."

Atia took the meat and ate it, in small bites. The woman in the giant coat gave her some more water, urging her to drink slowly. The food and the water hurt to swallow but she was so hungry she didn't care. "Who are you?" Atia asked the woman helping her.

Julia didn't know how to respond. She still wasn't sure exactly how much she was going to help this woman, how much she wanted this stranger to know. She sighed and sat down. "My name is Julia. And you?"

Atia sat up, supporting herself on quaking arms. "I am Atia, consort to Aurelius of Phoenix, mother of his child," she announced with regal authority, "Or, uh, I was," she admitted. Her arms gave way and she laid down on the dirt again, much more gently this time. Julia couldn't help but think she was pretty conceited for a nearly-dead former sex slave.

She stayed with Atia for hours, nursing her back to health. They talked when Atia was strong enough and when she wasn't Julia just sat with her, rubbing her back absentmindedly. Atia told Julia about her old tribe, about their defeat by Caesar, about her imprisonment. Her tribe was conquered when she was ten years old. That was sixteen years ago.

"At first they made me do functionary work, because I can read and write. That wasn't so bad, I didn't have to lift stuff, I just had to write and, like, organize files," Atia could sit up by her own power now, "I got beat up all the time, obviously. But I was treated way better than other slaves. I had an important job, I was the record-keeper. I was smarter and more valuable than most of the Legion. I was in charge of the beating heart of the Legion!" she grew excited, waving her arms. Julia asked her to drink some more water.

"Troop movements, surveillance records, codes for runners, quartermaster supplies," Atia ticked each off on her fingers, "I had access to all of it. I knew who was doing what where and when in the entire Legion. I wasn't in the nerve center, I was the nerve center."

"And then I got pretty," she hissed, "I was... sixteen. I was still working as record-keeper. I was practically second to Caesar himself! I had Centurions and Decanus and Praetorians trading me favors for favors, for better assignments and better gear. I was living well, better than I had it in the tribe. I was Atia, Queen of the Legionaries!"

"But you grew to be attractive," Julia tried to distract her from the 'glory' of her old life. Like many other consort and 'hairdresser' slaves Atia had apparently been broken by luxury, promised an 'easy' life in exchange for her autonomy and identity. A much more insidious way to break a slave than simple abuse.

"How was I supposed to know to hide my body? To disguise my appearance, so I wouldn't be... I wouldn't be..." Atia trailed off. Julia gave her a reassuring embrace, told her she was safe now. Atia's pride wouldn't let her cry but tears collected in the corners of her eyes. She felt her stomach, felt the life inside her. She added, voice full of bitterness and regret, "They took away my eyeglasses."

"I think I have just the place for you," Julia told her. They were only a few days from Ouroboros. Julia supported Atia most of the way there.