North of the wall, where things were different, Marcus and Esca went through many more tests of trust before they considered themselves friends; not least the role-reversal they undertook whilst in the tribe of the seal people. They'd had their first real fight only moments before they'd been discovered, a furious back-and-forth of words about honour they would both come to regret, and for the first time, physical violence as well. It was for the best that they'd been interrupted, otherwise their precarious friendship might have been damaged beyond repair, although what was to come would test it to the limits.

Of all the things that Marcus had thought he would be doing north of the wall, playing the part of Esca's slave hadn't been one of them. He was treated much more badly than he'd ever treated Esca, though it crossed his mind once or twice as he was being dragged behind his own horse, hands bound, that Esca had experienced precisely the same such things at the hands of Rome. Once he'd gotten onto this wagon of thought, there was nothing to stop Marcus following it down a dark road.

As he crouched in the cold rain, each drop feeling like an icicle on his skin, Marcus threw filthy looks through the trees at where Esca was sitting with the tribe, next to a warm fire and food to fill his belly. The Briton had been wearing a mask of smug satisfaction for days, and it irked him badly. He supposed that he had been using Esca to warm his bed in a way- just not the way Rome had expected him to. He couldn't deny that the sharing of heat in cold nights had made something soften in him, and now he could barely remember what human contact felt like.

Over the next weeks Marcus grew indifferent to anything Esca might have been thinking or feeling, resigning himself to hard work and turning a shoulder against the cold. Only once did Marcus feel something pull in his chest, and this is when he saw Esca with a child- a little boy of the tribe who had taken to following him about. Marcus ignored the feeling though, and tried to also ignore the thoughts in his head that told him Esca would have been a good father. Often Esca had glanced quickly over at Marcus in whatever task he was engaged in whenever the child had pulled at his tunic or babbled British words to him, to see his reaction, but always the Roman was hunched over, steadfastly ignorant to his surroundings.

Over the course of the whole tribal experience, Marcus and Esca both learned a great deal about themselves and each other. Esca had seen Marcus every time the tribe had walked past him and scanned his face carefully. In the first days, he'd trembled every time he heard footsteps, and Esca could have sworn he'd gritted his teeth every time he'd been told to do something, reminding Esca so very much of himself.

There had been only one incident, when Marcus had been caught staring curiously at the tribal women, and Esca had been forced to punish him to appease the leader. Marcus had made all the right angry noises, but as Esca had him by the hair, on his knees in the mud, he'd caught the open fear in his eyes. Later, when he let Marcus go, throwing him prone onto the sand, partly to make it convincing and partly because he was having a rare opportunity to pay back Rome, he'd caught what Marcus had said. The tribal leaders must have assumed that he was just muttering to himself in his tongue, but Esca understood every word, and the connotations behind it.

"If you have to punish me properly, I want it to be you," Marcus had murmured. "I can only take it from you. It has to be you." Esca froze but he did not turn around, knowing if he did and saw the look on Marcus' face, he wouldn't be able to keep up the pretence. Blood and adrenaline still coursing through him from the punishment and his rare opportunity of power, Esca couldn't quite forget past sins, despite the fact that this Roman, his Roman, was literally grovelling on his knees. Instead, he raised his head to the sky and walked away, lest he say something he'd regret, hearing a sob behind him carried away on the wind.

OOO

It was telling, the night Marcus had been knocked unconscious trying to retrieve the Eagle, that upon waking to Esca, who could quite easily have been there to kill him, had the look on his face not given away his true intentions, that Marcus' first words were "I thought I'd lost you."

There was no time for talking as they made their escape, and it was only when they'd reached the river that they had any opportunity to weigh each other up at all. Fleeting glances over the past few weeks had served as the only indication as to what was in each other's heads, though it was a mark of just how different things were beyond the wall that a Roman should want to know what was in his slave's head at all. The truth was, Marcus hadn't thought of Esca as his slave for quite some time, and he'd said as much, amidst a garbled apology that was so loud and desperate Esca had eventually put a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"You should have trusted me, Marcus," Esca had said angrily as he held his head out of the raging river waters.

"I'm trusting you now, aren't I? Do you trust me, Esca?"

"Of course I do. You've proved you aren't like the others."

"That's good to hear." Marcus had closed his eyes in exhaustion, confirming finally that every foul look Esca might have thrown his way had been directed at Rome and not him. He hoped he'd gone some way to repairing the damage the empire had done to Esca, but as the Briton had told him before, Marcus was the only Roman he trusted, and perhaps ever would trust.

Soon enough, the Seal Tribe had doubled back, allowing Esca to half-carry Marcus down the river, until the Roman had stumbled one too many times for them to admit that they'd make it out of there together.

"I should have done this months ago," Marcus had said sadly as he'd passed over the dagger- Esca's bond. Marcus knew that his words meant he might not roll over at night to see Esca's mattress across the door with the skinny Briton lying on it again, see his friend riding next to him when hunting or have him tucked under his arm in cold nights spent camping, but Esca's freedom meant more to him than any of that.

"I will return," Esca had replied, teeth gritted in determination.

Now all Marcus could do was to trust him.