After being unexpectedly left home alone (yay for unexpected, huh?) I was able to finish this so I can post it! Happy Easter, everyone!

Disclaimer: I know this is to avoid any legal disputes, but come on. I mean, really, if I owned the series this story would be canon. Not posted on . So, yeah...still don't own it.

Enjoy!

"Mater, why are we praying to a crucifix? Don't people die on them?"

"Yes, my son, but we pray to special person. He died so that we all can find happiness in afterlife," she said with a smile, kissing his forehead."In fact..."

Suddenly, Romanus knew something was very wrong. He left something wet, and looked to see drops of crimson on his hands. Looking up at his mother, terrified of what was happening, Romanus wanted to scream. His mother, his beautiful and gentle and loving mother, was bleeding and there was a huge wound in her side.

"Your father and I have found happiness in afterlife. Won't you come with us...?"

He screamed.

"Romanus! Romanus, wake up!"

Romanus' eyes shot open as he quickly sat up, breathing heavily. Heracles was right next to him, a hand on his back in a gesture of comfort. Gupta was staring at the Roman from his own bed. Dark green eyes surveyed the room, noting that Felicianus was awake and clinging to the rag doll Zosime had given him while Gratianus had rolled over onto his stomach and was regarding his eldest brother with innocent eyes.

"Are you okay? You were thrashing around and screaming…I'm surprised my mother hasn't come here yet."

Romanus buried his face in his hands and shook his head. What could he say? No one knew the truth about how their mother died, only the brothers did and Romanus was really hoping that Felicianus was too young to remember as he grew older. Gratianus probably wouldn't, which Romanus considered a blessing.

"That's right, my little Roma. Focus on the blessings. God is very kind, when we think about it. Isn't he?"

The oldest son choked on a sob as his mother's voice echoed in his memories. His mother would never again whisper comforting words to him or stroke his hair or kiss away whatever cuts or scraps he had managed to acquire. He would never again hear her singing lullabies to him and his brothers while thunder and lightning fought in the skies, or laughing at a stupid joke his father made. Their father would never come home, all smiles and love, would never hold Romanus close to him and tell him stories of the world outside of the dim-lit rooms the family hid in.

"Romanus?" Heracles sounded confused and concerned, which took Romanus a bit by surprise; after all, they had only just met the boy. "Is there something you want to talk about? You kept screaming 'Mater, Mater' in your sleep." A kitten meowed as it rubbed up against Romanus, looking up at him with wide yellow-green eyes.

"No, no. Just had a nightmare, that's all. Go back to—"

Romanus froze when he noticed something in the Greek boy's hand. A small pendent made of two twigs tied together in the shape of a crucifix. Heracles looked at it like it wasn't a symbol from a persecuted new religion.

"Hey, Romanus, what's this? I've seen them before, I think…"

Jolted out of his shock by the words, Romanus snatched the pendent from Heracles' hands. Fixing the brown-haired boy with a stare so cold it could freeze the Wretched Inferno, Romanus clutched the small object close to his heart.

"Don't you ever. Touch this. Again. And don't you dare breathe a word about it to Rome. He'll have me killed."

Heracles raised his hands in a sign of surrender and nodded. "Don't worry, Romanus. Gupta and I won't tell. I don't know why you're so defensive of it, though…"

Of course he wouldn't. Romanus thought as much; from the sounds of it, Rome didn't discuss the world outside the house with anyone in the house, least of all the children. Not like his Pater… Of course the young Greek wouldn't know about the conflict over the ways of Christ. No one in this house would know how bad it was, how red the streets were with the blood of murdered Christians who couldn't hide well enough or run quick enough. Keeping the cross had been a dangerous move, but the small pieces of wood had somehow made the boy feel safe and safety was a rare thing for someone like him and his brothers to come by…

"Ah! I thought I heard voices! What are you filii still doing up?"

Romanus shoved the makeshift cross down his shirt and turned to see his newest tormentor, the Roman Empire. The man stood tall and jovial, so much like the father none of the brothers would ever see again. This man was supposedly their grandfather, and while Romanus could see the similarities, he refused to believe it. Rome hated Christians. Romanus' father was Christian, and so was his mother. Therefore, Rome hated his parents.

"Forgive us, Father," Heracles said, squirming a bit, "but Romanus had a nightmare. We're sorry we woke you."

"Nonsense, my boy! I haven't been able to see any of you much lately. Hey, where's Sadiq?" The great Rome looked around, seeing no trace of the boy Romanus hadn't met.

"His mother took him away from the nursery today, and we haven't seen him since." Romanus had to commend Heracles' effort to keep his dislike of the older boy silent.

"I see." Rome's eyes caught Romanus, and the green-eyed boy inwardly cringed in protest. "And how are my grandsons doing? Settling in well?"

Romanus swallowed and nodded, praying to God that Rome would leave them be, would mostly overlook them.

"Don't be so shy, Romanus! There's nothing to be scared of here!"

Yes there is, Romano thought bitterly, desperately longing to run his fingers over the cross hiding beneath his clothes. You.

"How old are you and your brothers, Romanus?"

"I'm five years, Felicianus is three, and Gratianus will be a year exactly next month."

Rome clicked his tongue and shook his head, conveying sympathy for the young orphan. "That's too young to not have a mother or a father, hm?"

What are you getting at? "…We did okay…"

Rome smiled, soft and gentle and way Romanus never thought Rome could smile, though it vanished as quickly as it came. "Well, goodnight, filii! May the gods protect you!"

With that, the King of the Mediterranean was gone, and Romanus could breathe a bit easier. As Heracles and Gupta returned to their beds and prepared for sleep, Romanus went and made sure his little brothers were calm. With a soft voice, the eldest brother motioned for Felicianus to follow him to Gratianus' cradle. Come, Feli, come pray with me.

Taking out the small twig-cross, Romanus held it in his hands and clasped them together in prayer. Felicianus took Gratianus' hands and pushed them together in prayer. When the infant's hands wouldn't stay, Felicianus solved the problem by folding his own hands over the baby's. Romanus smiled at the antics of his brothers. With a soft voice, barely heard between the three of them, Romanus began to pray.

"Gratias tibi, Deus, protegendo me et fratres mei. Oroo uos nos tuendos in novissimis diebus, quae nos iram Roma. Petimus magistra dilectioni nos tuendos et vero. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

Okay, so the whole thing in Latin translates into: "Thank you, God, for protecting me and my brothers. I pray that You will keep us safe in the days to come, and protect us from Rome's wrath. We ask for Your loving guidence to keep us safe and true. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. "

Having been raised Protestant (though being not the least bit pious) I possess no knowledge of any Catholic prayers or such. Plus I figured that, as this is the early days of Christianity, those prayers wouldn't be widespread yet.

For an added historical note, Christians in Ancient Rome were...well, let's just say that the ones who died quickly were lucky. It was very dangerous to be a Christian in Rome, especially during the reign of Nero.

Anyway, please review!