A/N: Alright, things are going good in the House of Ryder. Still looking for people to suggest drabbles for Folklore! Other than that, enjoy the voyage, ladies and gents!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Ninth Legion (That dubious honor belongs to the now defunct Roman Empire), The Eagle, or the awesomesause that is Harry Potter. All I own... Wait, I own my Muses! Ha!
WARNING: There is yaoi (boyXboy), so if you DO NOT LIKE, then DO NOT READ!

-Ryder

P.S. READ ME FIRST! Harry will be refered to as Cian (dark one in Gaelic) in later chapters. Harry is too casual and Hadrian (of which Harry could be a possible nickname) is far too Roman for the part he plays.
P.P.S. READ ME SECOND! I was jipped at this shitty restaurant so Cian will get VIOLENT. I'm NOT particularly happy at the moment; my Muses are feeling evil. Sorry!

CMECMECMECMECMECME

Cian sighed as he gently tugged on his Lybian stallion's lead. Cornix snorted as he dismounted, neighing sharply when the holster reached for his lead.

"Sa, sa Cornix." The stallion leveled him with a 'you expect me to go with this piece of offal?' look then sidled up against him.

"A fellow Briton? Rare you are nowadays beyond Hadrian's wall."

"Hmm, I travel regardless of creed, race, or religion."

"Romans are greatly afeared of a wizard 'round these parts. They say he's the very forest, come to wreak havoc upon them; a wee bit of exaggeration, I wouldn't wonder."

"No, quite right for once. I am him, you see. Cian's the name."

"Good e'en to ya then. I've a group of Romans hunkerin' down an' harassing m' servin' maids."

"And? What concern of it is mine? I'm here for a drink and a bed, not to solve your problem."

"Right selfish ya are."

"Hmph. I think I'm allowed to be." He shoved back his hood, revealing jewel-bright green eyes and a tumble of waist-length braided hair. The scars he'd earned over the past years showed visibly against his tan skin, especially the lightning bolt shaped one he'd gotten as a child. The man's eyes were drawn to it, even this far into the past. He growled lowly as he pulled his hood back up. "A Roman pub sounds better at this point. No bloody rude stares." He remounted, a sneer learned from Snape gracing his lips.

"Wait, they won't serve a Briton!"

"They'll serve me." He said levelly, tapping his boots to Cornix's flanks.

They eyed him warily but the maids served him drinks; as he paid as well as any other man. The Romans paid him no mind as he sat sipping his ale and watching them from beneath his hood. A drunken Legionnare stumbled into the chair in front of him, looking into the darkness that shrouded his face.

"Whas unner der?"

"You're drunk. Get out of my sight." Cian stood, picked up the man, and tossed him out into the freezing rain. "Sober up." He walked back to his chair, only to find it occupied by an arrogant centurion.

"What are you going to do with me, stranger?"

"This." With a martial arts move, he yoinked the chair back and relaxed into it as the man hit the floor with a grunt. "Barkeep, another ale."

"And why should I serve you, ruffian?"

"My gold pays as well as any others." He answered neutrally, kicking his boots up and onto the table in the ill-lit tavern. "Does it not?"

"I suppose so." The routund man motioned one of the maids over and Cian watched impassively as the barkeep slipped something into his drink. The maid smiled sweetly at him as she set down his ale.

"Would you like anything else sir?"

"My thanks, milady, but no." He stared at his ale, then back up at the owner, then back at his ale. "I am no fool." He pulled out a Poison-Neutralizer and dumped into his drink. The pale liquid frothed, turned a deep purple, and then back to normal. "Barkeep!" He barked, removing his boots from the table.

"Yessir?"

"Someone tried to kill me." His tone was full of sub-zero fury, the table vibrating with his anger. "With nightshade; good thing I caught it in time, no? Would you be so kind as to point him out?" His gloved hand shot out and grabbed the man's wrist as the man tried to escape. "I'm not a fool, sirrah. I watched you put it in." The grip tightened, causing the leather and the man's wrist to creak ominously in the sudden silence.

"What did you do to his drink?" One of the sober Legionnares asked.

"He poisoned it. I am glad I am familiar with all types of nightshade; especially it's liquid form."

"Your kind should have died at birth."

"Now it's personal, is it? Just because you were born without my gift, you resent what you could have had?" He sneered and snapped the man's wrist up and to the right. "Hmph." He paid the maid as he made his way out to the stable. Cornix whickered as Cian remounted, as if to say 'what an idiot'. "Indeed."

-Over Hadrian's Wall-

-PoV-

Marcus allowed his horse to halt as Esca spoke once more with yet another native. The man had a hood on and a respectable horse, Lybian if he was any guess.

"A Roman? Why?" The Latin was thickly accented like Esca's but had a softer burr. They went back to speaking Briton at a rapid speed. "May I accompany you?"

"And you are?"

"Cian of the Magis." The man reached up with gloved hands and pulled back the hood, revealing a man of surprising beauty; soft black locks framed an elegant face, coral lips pulled into a half-smile. Bright green eyes met with his own steel grey and Esca's honey brown. Esca asked something in the heathen tongue and the man (Cian his mind supplied) laughed. The sound was bittersweet, as though it had been innocent once.

"No. I am not Fae." The reply was part Latin, part Briton.

"You would include him?"

"He is as we are, human, Esca. Just because he is of a different race means nothing to me."

"Nothing?" His slave launched into what was obviously a rant about Rome.

"Sa sa Esca. You are nearly as skittish as Cornix." The stallion half-reared, as though offended by the remark. "Cheeky beast. Marcus Flavius Aquila, I would be honored to join your quest to return the Eagle." He smiled ever so softly at him before turning his horse in with theirs.

-PoV-

Cian caught dinner that night, two hares and a quail. He skinned them, handing them off to Esca.

"What has you so upset over Rome?" He finally broached the apparently sore topic away from Marcus; Gaelic to put his new acquaintance at ease.

"His father killed mine; then the bastard spared my life in the amphitheater!"

"Tsk, tsk, holding such a grudge will only backfire."

"How would you know?"

"Such a tale is for the both of you, so I do not have to repeat myself."

A while later and they were dining on roast hare and bird. Esca finished his meal and Marcus followed soon after, looking at him expectantly. He doggedly finished his own dinner ignoring the burning stares directed at his pulled-up hood.

"Well?" Marcus asked, slightly irritated as he shifted in front of the fire.

"I should start from the beginning, I suppose."

"You'd make a terrible skald." Esca snorted, leaning back against a moss covered rock.

"Hmph. May I start now?"

"Yes." Both of them answered him, then glared at each other.

"A man was born, not just a man, but a wizard much like myself. His name was Tom Marvalo Riddle and he grew. He attended a school called Hogwarts along with other bright witches and wizards of his day. This man, you see, was very persuasive and handsome. Soon he had gathered a following, and all began to fall. For you see, Tom was not a Light wizard; no, only the Dark did he see, only shadows. Long years did he hold the country in fear of his latest name: Lord Voldemort. My parents were beginning to feel his shadow, oppressive as it was. My father, well, my father was a prankster like no other at Hogwarts. My mother didn't even acknowledge him until their fifth year." Cian gave a wry chuckle at the borrowed memories.

"A woman would deny a man?"

"In this day and age?"

"Will you hear my tale or not?" Cian snapped, hating to be interrupted. They shut up immediately and he sighed as he ran a hand through his now unbraided hair. He redid it slowly as he continued the tale, securing the end tightly once more. "My mother denied all conventions and was friends with a wizard all others called Dark. She knew without her friendship, the wizard would go there; to Lord Voldemort's side and serve him well. This wizard was adempt at creating new spells and potions. Lord Voldemort wanted him badly, perhaps a bit too zealously. When this wizard (we'll call him the Half-Blood Prince) used a horrible word on my mother, (forcing her away from him for her own safety) she never spoke to him again. But I digress; my father got my mother to speak with him and eventually, she married him."

"Is that all?" Marcus yawned, wiping his steel grey eyes.

"No! You are not even paying attention, are you?" Cian sighed as he prodded the fire with a stick.

"I was, Cian. Please continue; perhaps the idiot will fall asleep." Esca protested softly, his honey brown eyes still locked onto him.

"At least someone was paying attention. I was born in the summer, a moon and a sennight shy of Beltane a year after they bonded. A prophecy was made about a boy; there were two boys who fit it. Would you like to hear it?" Esca nodded and Cian cleared his throat.
" The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

"Such a depressing prophecy. Who made it?" Cian grimaced as he thought back to that day nearly three years ago. It no longer hurt to remember the day of Sirius's death, but it still pulled a few heartstrings.

"A witch by the name of Sybil Trelawney. But onward with my tale, yes?" And so he continued, leaving nothing out, for these men were strangers in the very least. Esca paced when he mechanically recited what had happened with the Dursleys, while he barely whispered of the years after Sirius's death. Marcus gave him a soft look as he finished strongly with his Potions accident.

"Such a life... It is lonely, no?" Esca finally asked, sitting down after pacing for the hundredth time.

"Indeed. Harsh, yet filled with friendship most can never dream of, Cian of the Magis."

Ending A/N: Whew... This is a lot harder to write than I thought it would be. Sorry Wizardsgirl!