Story: The Rose
Sources: Roma, by Mary McCullough, First Light by Brock and Bodie Thoene
Rating: T
Author's Note: Humans have existed across time with attraction to the same sex. The Romans were just more blatent about it. I don't mean to force the lifestyle as "right" at you if you don't have those beliefs, it is simple fact of life, and this is meant to be as accurate of a historical representation as possible.
I would like to thank SunRise and LadyIfe for their feedback on this chapter, this is dedicated to you two wonderful people.
"Legionairre."
"Sergeant."
"Are you - how's your health?"
Brutus frowned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "I'm fine. Since you're so meddlesome why don't you talk to the commander about my state of health. Try and get the position that I've so clearly earned."
"That was not my intent. And I made the inquiry to you. Not our superior." The younger blonde seemed…concerned.
"You're sentimentality is most unbecoming." Brutus continued polishing his armor, something he rarely did. On occasion he rather liked being spattered with another's blood.
Quintus did not speak. He merely saluted and went off to attend to the rest of his duties. Brutus either did not remember - or perhaps more likely chose not to remember the events of the previous two nights. Also the innate fact that Quintus had cleaned up the sick, had warmed him as he shivered with delirious fever - had dared to touch him when everyone else wanted the brutal soldier isolated and left to die.
"Let the gods have their way with him," they'd said - confining him to separate barracks because they feared of him being sick themselves.
Quintus knew it was only because he had had far too much to drink. It was just a little more sour than normal, and he had upped his consumption. The illness he had wasn't infectious.
He'd seen the legionnaire in the throes of a nightmare when he'd brought him a jar of water. Couldn't bear to leave him. Quintus cared not for Brutus' tactics, though he had no authority to object. Brutus was neither attractive nor kind, while sober; a dangerous lion while intoxicated.
Yet delirious and sleepy there was a mysterious hint of vulnerability that no one would believe unless they saw it firsthand. There was something about this that intrigued - if not attracted - Quintus.
He hadn't been one to like Brutus' preferences for anything on two legs; nor was he one that found himself properly comfortable around women.
She was threading the laces through his boots. His head was throbbing. The past two days it had gone from a dull aching to a painful, sharpness. The lights were too bright, Rosina's voice was too loud.
He'd have to see the physician about it - probably pay a Greek to make an examination. He didn't need word of this getting around. It was the fourth time this week, and it was getting steadily worse.
She was a comforting thing to focus on, within the past month she had blossomed into a lovely assistant.
Always a plate of grapes on the table, his armor ready in the morning before first light. She looked a little less gaunt, though she retained her slim frame.
The Roman clothes, though plain - unfortunate to indicate her status, suited her well.
"Wine before you go, Master?" she was asking, the concern tracing its way across her features.
"I'm fine, just - the sun's a little bright is all."
"You don't look well, if you don't mind -"
"I know."
"Want me to -"
"No." He didn't mean the remark to sound so biting, but she didn't shrink.
"What about -"
"I'm fine."
She huffed and stood up. "I might only be your humble servant, my lord. But you will most certainly loose your command's respect if you continue about your duties looking as though you are ill. Are you ill, master? "
"Just a headache."
She hummed, as though thinking. "Take a little wine. Easy. Not so much. Would it please my master to have his head rubbed?"
He didn't quite understand what she meant. "Here," she said, going around his chair and placing her fingertips on his temples, making small, circular motions.
"Ow!"
"Sorry, sorry, master." She dropped her hands from their position.
"No. Continue. Please."
She did - making small, then slightly larger circles. It was all too relaxing, he wanted to fall asleep. She continued down, rubbing his neck. He wondered absently where she'd learned such things - although he probably didn't want to know the sensual things the girl had been educated in. Or by what methods.
"There," she said with a pat, and he startled, not realizing he had fallen asleep. "Was that of assistance?"
He was surprised to note there was magic in those hands - and a part of him wondered what else she could do, but he brushed such thoughts away. "Yes, thank you Rosina. You do have magic in -"
"It's not magic. It's simply a trick due to pulse points. Now." she smiles tightly. "Don't you have duties to attend to?"
He rushed out in a hurry and she smiled, until the door closed behind him.
Then the tears came. He didn't really care about her, did he? She had to be seeing things that weren't there.