Title: The Rose
Beta: LadyIfe
Rating: T for violence and suggestive themes
Disclaimer: I don't own the times, this is merely a reflection of those times.
Rosina bit her lip til it bled. She knew Brutus was eying her again and it would not be long until he took her for himself. Of course she could not do anything about such things. She was just a servant for the soldier's quarters, it was assumed she was there for purposes of their amusement.
There were sharp contrasts between him and the commander, Crispin. He'd actually given her one of those nods earlier that indicated respect. Acknowledging a slave. Unlike Brutus, who for some reason had claimed her. Of course, during Saturnalia last year he hadn't cared who had taken hold of her during the festivities.
They couldn't have the raucus they liked because of the Festival of Lights, and the risk of disturbing the peace.
She shivered in the cold night air, watching the moon rise over the city. It held a strange glow. The astrologer said there were bad omens coming this year, but they seemed so terrible he didn't seem to care to specify.
There had been enough damnable awful things that had happened in this godforsaken place. There had been riots, which made the soldiers cranky and restless. There was Someone who was all the rage. Some sorcerer who performed miracles. There were whispers he'd raised a dead girl.
Why was she thinking about him? First sight of her with the lopsided rose on her neck and she'd be surely stoned. They'd think she was some Roman whore. At least whores were paid. To them, she might have been just some dog they fed scraps and played with once in a while. No better than scum to them.
Especially to Brutus. She knew why he eyed her. She was vulnerable and haunted. Easily wounded. Haunted that her parents had been killed and she was taken for their purposes. There weren't supposed to be Jewish slaves but because her father was Greek it seemed to nullify that rule. Half-blood.
Brutus was like a wolf that thirsted blood. She was on the roof, hoping he wouldn't find her up here. She stared at the stones below. How easy it would be to just jump - she might feel a little pain, but it was nothing compared to the existance now.
She knew someone was watching her from behind. "So you found me." It sounded lame, she would probably get a slap or a kick for trying to sound humourous.
"I didn't know I was looking for you." Crispin. The commander. She knew he had a kind side. She could tell by his eyes, even though she couldn't tell what color they were because she never could see them directly. They weren't cold and lifeless.
"I thought you were someone else." There was a edge of relief to her voice. She inclined her head to look at her dirty hem and her bare feet. He was, after all, the commander. With she had heard, high honors in gallentry of battle. He deserved her respect, unlike those that demanded it without earning it.
"Do you wish I was this someone else?" He ventured out into the moonlight.
"No, sir - I do not." There was finality in her response. A rare boldness that she hardly ever showed. Enough that he guessed what was really going on. He would see the brand on her neck and know her status. It only took a few conjectures to figure out that she was avoiding her duty.
He did not comment on what he observed, instead he chose to consider the implications. "Are they cruel to you, is that why you avoid them?"
"And you care about a testimony of a slave, commander?" It was said with a hint of bitterness, though she struggled to keep her tone even. She wasn't a citizen. Her testimony to anything wasn't considered valid. Besides, in this cursed province, not many chose citizenry anyway. They thought it violated their vow to their God, to swear allegiance to their conquerors.
"Cruelty is not tolerated under my watch, who is it?" He knew she would not say. Slaves knew better than to use any soldier as a confidant. He just thought he would get maybe a clue out of her.
She did not reply at first, as he knew she would. Finally came the response. "The cruelest of wolves, target the weakest of sheep." A riddle. Riddles rarely got anyone flogged - or accused of treason.
"There you are," she heard him say. His voice was dark. He would not have a clumsy, drunken side tonight. Crispin watched her tense. "Come along, pet. You've been hiding long enough."
She walked toward him automatically as though she had no choice but to do so - and really she didn't. It was either succumb to his wishes or risk some form of torture.
Better to be alive with bruises and perhaps a stinging brand in the morning then to be impaled and flayed.
It wasn't like it hadn't happened before.
Author's Note: So there's your intro to Rosina. I'll admit in the original she had far too big of a part, hence why there's Keira. And after Crispin's introduction I know where we will end up. But I don't know quite how to get there, so it might be awhile after that.