— — —

On the road north of Rome, in the early evening darkness, Lucius joined a small company of travelers sitting around two campfires. The group was traveling to Rome and he from, but they welcomed him readily enough. The roadside inns nearby were full, and though the roads this close to the heart of the Empire were generally safe, bandits were not unheard of. Travelers could count on safety in numbers, and a man who looked like he could hold himself in a fight would always be welcome. The safety was illusory, of course. Lucius intended to take one of these travelers tonight.

Something about the group unsettled him though. A tingling like a growing itch under his skin had him on alert. He hadn't felt a sensation like it since Divia, and he didn't know what to make of it. He glanced around at the company, and saw nothing strange on the surface, except that one of the travelers sat alone on a fallen log some distance from the fires. When Lucius looked at the man, the prickling under his skin intensified.

The stranger returned his gaze and something like recognition gleamed in his eyes, but Lucius did not know him. With dark hair past his shoulders and a long mustache, the man looked like a Gaul. He wore a silver torque at his neck and even in the dim light, Lucius's keen eyes could see it was expertly filigreed with twining golden flowers, an open invitation to robbery on the road if Lucius ever saw one.

The man waved him over and Lucius approached cautiously. This traveler was different from the others, though Lucius could not place the why of it.

"You hesitate, friend," the man said. "Don't worry, I don't bite." He winked at Lucius and then flashed elongated canines at him.

Startled, Lucius realized the man was like him. He had encountered no others on his travels with Divia nor had he crossed paths with any in Rome. He had started to believe that perhaps there were no others alive in the world.

"Heading to Rome?" the stranger asked. "Roman are you? SPQR, or something like that?"

Lucius did not answer, uncertain what to make of him.

"I'm heading there, you see," the stranger said. "Thought I might catch it at least once in my life and see what the fuss is about. The eternal city, some call it." He laughed like he had made a joke. "There's no such thing as an eternal city."

The man brought his hand up in the air as he said, "They rise," and then brought his hand down again as he continued, "they fall." He locked eyes with Lucius. "Only one thing is eternal."

"And what is that?" Lucius asked.

The stranger grinned. "Change, of course." He patted the log next to him and said, "Come, come, sit. Maybe I do bite, but you suffer from the same glorious affliction so we are good company."

Lucius sat, though he kept a distance between them, and asked, "What is your name?"

The man looked thoughtful for a few moments and then said, "I have it: Titus Felix."

Lucius snorted. "You made that up just now."

"My friend, all names are made up."

"You're not Roman, I take it?"

"Roman, Greek, Gaul, Egyptian, Briton, so many labels to affix to mortals, but you and I don't have such labels, or don't you know that yet?"

Lucius did not know what to make of this statement, or what to make of this so-called Titus Felix.

"What about your name?" the stranger asked.

"Lucius Divius Lucianus."

The man laughed as he seemed determinedly to be in good humor, "Well, that certainly sounds like a solidly Roman name to me. So, are you heading to Rome as well?"

"No, away," Lucius replied.

"That's a shame," the man said, "because I so rarely meet another of our kind." He became more somber. "It can be lonely being around only them." He waved a hand to the mortals clustered around the campfires.

"That, I know," Lucius admitted.

The stranger scrutinized him and then nodded. "I can see that you do."

They fell into a silence. If the man had expected Lucius to elaborate then he would have to be disappointed.

"All right, Roman," the stranger finally spoke up, tone amiable, "how about this: companions just for tonight? A hunt always does one good and it's so much better when shared with a friend or an acquaintance," he paused before adding with a sly grin, "or even a standoffish stranger."

"You have one of them in mind?" Lucius asked and gestured to the other travelers.

"One of them, pssh, no," the man replied. "Where's the challenge in that? There's an army encampment perhaps five miles north of here. Whoever bags the highest ranking officer wins."

— — —

The challenge of the night before had ended with the stranger's victory. Because when they had come to the encampment, Lucius found the thought of taking one of the soldiers nauseated him. Everything about them felt somehow too close to him, and he had drained a camp follower instead.

"Why?" the stranger had asked in surprise, but Lucius had not wanted to try to explain it.

Though they had parted company after that, each seeking their own shelter for the day, Lucius had faintly hoped their paths would cross again. When he had ventured out after nightfall and felt a tingling in his veins, he followed its increasing intensity, leading him back to this companion of the night before.

"Do you really want me to call you Titus Felix?" Lucius asked as he approached the stranger. The man lounged in the long grass on a hill, lying on his back and looking up at the stars.

"You don't like it, Roman? Wasn't Titus the name of one of your emperors? There have been so many in such a short time that I get confused."

Lucius laid his cloak over the grass and sat on it, annoyed at the sensation of the stalks tickling his legs.

"It was," Lucius confirmed and then allowed for a little amusement in his tone as he asked, "Named after an emperor? Is that how you see yourself?"

The man chuckled. "Not at all. I'm bound to no empire. Empire is a mortal concern. I'm bound only to the night and the stars," he paused and ran the tips of his fingers over the tops of the grass, "and the real things of the earth."

"Then perhaps Titus isn't the name for you," Lucius commented.

"How about just Felix then?"

Lucius couldn't help but smile. "It suits you."

Felix sat up and looked at him. "They say your current emperor is building a wall across Britannia, have you been there?"

"To the wall? No."

"To Britannia, I mean," Felix said.

"Not there either." In all his travels in his mortal lifetime, Lucius had never made it that far north. With Divia, they had kept to the east, far from that province.

"Me neither," Felix said. "We should go there."

"We?" Lucius asked and felt faintly pleased at the thought because despite the man's incessant good cheer, Lucius thought he might miss his company. "I thought Rome was your destination."

"It will probably still be standing if I still want to go there a hundred years from now."

"Of course it will," Lucius agreed.

— — —

Hunting with Felix had been a different experience than it had been with Divia. She had hunted like a cat, playing with her prey, and delaying her deadly strike. Felix was more like a wolf. Though he enjoyed a chase, he struck quickly when the opportunity presented itself and did not spend time toying with mortals. Tonight though, things had taken a strange turn.

Lucius observed with a fascinated kind of disgust as Felix finished off a stag he had insisted on taking down. The pursuit had been interesting, even exhilarating at times, but nothing about the creature otherwise appealed.

Felix dropped the animal's body and licked its remaining blood from his lips. He grinned at Lucius. "Aren't you even the least curious?"

Lucius shook his head. "Why would I be?"

Felix shrugged. "Changes things up a bit, makes you appreciate the real thing even more." He paused before adding, "And it's handy for those times when you need to keep a low profile."

Lucius bent down next to the deer and ran a finger through the blood at the punctures on its neck. Gingerly, he licked it off and then made a face. The taste was sour and the blood told no story.

Felix laughed. "I have met a couple of our kind who prefer it. One had a taste for deer, the other for rabbits."

"How could they prefer it?" Lucius asked, incredulous.

"I don't know," Felix replied, "but perhaps life would be simpler that way. Live and hunt away from the bustle and trouble of people," he looked up before continuing in a wistful tone, "sheltered by only the forest and night sky."

"Sounds dreadful," Lucius commented. "To not enjoy mortals and all they have to offer us. I would not trade them for that." He lightly kicked the stag's carcass.

"Ah well," Felix said with a note of resignation. "We are what we are, Roman, and I grant you that no deer compares to what we can have. Let's resume our journey."

They tramped through the forest brush and back to the road, and as they did so, they disturbed a small flock of larks. Lucius stopped to observe them as they flew to the north then abruptly turned to the south. He watched until they disappeared from view.

"You Romans, so superstitious," Felix commented. "You aren't one of those bird priests, are you?" He fluttered his fingers like wings.

Lucius snorted. "No, I am no augur." He paused before admitting, "But I do sometimes wonder if there are signs."

Felix rolled his eyes and repeated, "So superstitious."

Lucius felt vaguely offended, but let it pass as they returned to the road they had been taking steadily north. They traveled mainly on foot, as Lucius had learned was Felix's preference.

"When we met, you were coming from Rome," Felix commented after they had walked in silence for some while. "How long were you there? Why were you there?"

The second question surprised Lucius. In the two weeks they had known each other, they had spoken little of themselves, which had suited him fine. They had talked at length of travel, for Lucius had learned Felix had an insatiable curiosity about the places east that Lucius had been. Lucius had kept the discussion focused on facts about those places: important buildings, customs of the locals, festivals he had seen. He never mentioned… other things, things he had buried deep and would never unearth.

Felix was well-traveled himself, mainly around the Gallic provinces, but also Hispania and northwestern Africa, traveling beyond the southern bounds of the Empire there. Never to Rome itself or its eastern provinces though. "I mean to see those places too," Felix had said one night. "To see the whole world, in fact."

Lucius hadn't spoken of his time in Rome, and thought perhaps Felix had picked up that Lucius did not want to discuss it. But now Felix wanted to know how long he'd been there and why. How long had it been?

"Twenty… maybe twenty-five years, maybe thirty," Lucius guessed, answering the 'how long,' but skipping the 'why.'

"That's a long time for one of us to be in one place," Felix said, surprise in his tone. "Not unheard of, but long. You didn't get bored of it?"

Lucius shook his head. "In truth, it felt like only a moment. But one night…" He trailed off, feeling a distant ache and the weight of the ring on his finger. "One night, it had been too long."

Felix nodded as if he understood. "You were not alone in Rome."

"No, not exactly," Lucius acknowledged.

Quietly, Felix added, "But you were when I met you."

He was providing Lucius an opening to say more, but Lucius did not want to poke at that open wound anymore than he already had. They were quiet again, walking in silence.

"I brought one of them across once," Felix said after the long stretch of quiet, as if somehow he knew what Lucius had tried to do. "It was a long time before I finally succeeded. But even then, I failed."

Lucius paused and looked at him curiously.

Felix's eyes were distant for a moment as he said, "She missed the sun too much." Then he sighed as if weary and changed the subject. "Rome for decades. Before that, the eastern provinces of your Empire, and before that…?"

"Before that, my life was very different."

Felix raised a curious brow, but Lucius did not elaborate.

"Where were you going when you left Rome?"

Lucius shrugged because he hadn't really known, only that he could not stay there and that the same desire for the familiar that had taken him to Rome had pulled at him again.

"To see the other places of your people?" Felix guessed and Lucius supposed that wasn't far off the mark. Old roads, old battlegrounds, old towns, old places he had known, anything familiar.

"Yes, I suppose that is it," he answered,

"But what of the places not of your people? Have you considered those?"

Lucius had not, for they held no appeal for him. Within the Empire, even the farthest flung provinces, there would always be at least something familiar, something he knew, people who spoke his language, signs of his culture.

Lucius shook his head in response to Felix's question, and Felix frowned.

"You know, Roman," Felix said, something vaguely disapproving and pitying in his tone, "you wear your Empire like a boy refusing to give up a favorite cloak he's long outgrown."

— — —

As they approached the town of Alesia, Felix had been quieter than usual, subdued in a way Lucius had not yet seen him. Eyeing Felix, whose mind seemed far away, Lucius paused and asked, "What is it?"

Felix did not look at him, but instead to the town in the distance as he said, "Let us take flight, and continue our journey beyond this place."

Lucius looked at him curiously. Until now, Felix had been amenable to visit any town they came across. And Felix did not care for flight. "I like my feet on the ground," he had explained when Lucius questioned this, "makes me feel connected to the world. Not that I'm opposed, because there is an exhilaration to it, but all-in-all, why bother, especially when it can draw unwanted attention if we are seen."

Lucius had not minded walking as he had enjoyed their slower journey. But now Felix wanted to fly. That and Felix's strange reluctance about the town piqued Lucius's curiosity.

Lucius said, "I should like to visit the town. It has a history that interests me."

"Why? It's just a town, like any other we've passed through," Felix said with an unusual sharpness in his tone.

"No, not quite like any other," Lucius said, tone level. "A great Roman conquest happened here." In his mortal lifetime and beyond, he had studied the siege and battle that had cemented Caesar's victory over the Gauls. "Therefore, I would like to see the place."

Lucius scrutinized Felix before he added, "The question though is not why I should like to visit, but rather why you so clearly do not."

Felix's face darkened, gone was his typical light attitude. "The armies paved these roads with blood and bones, as if the world were theirs."

"Maybe it is," Lucius replied, maintaining his even tone. "That's the way of things. The weak give way to the strong."

"Weakness, strength," Felix said and gave a mirthless laugh. "You really think the Romans own the world?"

"I don't understand what you're driving at," Lucius said, confused by the change in Felix.

"Yes, they crushed this place and these lands. But everything gives way to time and someday, they will be weak, someday, they will be gone. What do you think of that? Who will be your people then?"

There was a fierceness in Felix's eyes like that of an enemy that would never surrender. Lucius shifted his gaze from his companion, to the town, and then to the night sky.

"I think," Lucius said finally, "we shall take flight."

— — —

"I don't like ships," Felix commented somberly. "The thought of sinking to the bottom of that," he waved to the inky waters of the sea as they stood on a hill above the port town, "worries me."

"It would not kill you," Lucius assured, though he could not be entirely certain that was true, "and if you were serious about seeing Britannia, this is the way."

"Perhaps I was not serious about seeing Britannia."

Since they had come upon and then bypassed Alesia, Felix's disposition had become more muted though not entirely devoid of his natural cheer. Nonetheless, he seemed increasingly irritated with Lucius at times, especially when the topic of the Empire arose.

"Don't you understand that none of that matters?" Felix had asked one night in exasperation. "What matters is you and I and anyone like us."

Lucius had contemplated this, but come to no conclusion. Now, as they gazed upon the ships in port, he asked Felix, "Do you wish to part company?" Though he himself did not wish it. He would miss the companionship of another like him.

Felix frowned, but nodded as he said, "Life is better with friends. And I think we could have been friends, that's the shame of it."

"I've done something to bother you," Lucius said matter-of-factly. "Are you going to tell me what?"

"What will you take with you across the sea?" Felix asked, not addressing Lucius's question.

"Nothing," Lucius replied, "except what I wear, of course."

"And not your expectations, Roman, about the way the world is? "

Lucius studied Felix for several moments. He had more in common with this peculiar man than anyone else in the years since Divia. Even with Quintus, it had been about someone he used to be and a world he used to know. He didn't have a word for what he was—what they were—but it certainly wasn't 'Roman.'

Softly, Lucius said, "Stop calling me that."

"Isn't that what you are?"

"No."

To Lucius's surprise, Felix cracked a grin as he said, "Finally." He put a hand on Lucius's soldier and remarked, "Perhaps I will go to Britannia after all. To Londinium and the wall and the unbroken places beyond to see what they have to offer us. Would you venture so far too?"

Lucius nodded because he would, the prospect intriguing in a way it hadn't been before, not least of all because he would not be alone.

"Good," Felix said, still smiling. "I told you that I mean to see the whole world. Perhaps you shall as well."

They were quiet for a moment overlooking the harbor. Felix asked, "So what should I call you instead?"

As Lucius saw the first faint signs of the gray light of early dawn bleeding along the horizon, he thought of the name he'd been born with. Named after the light of the morning sun, the full light of which he hadn't seen in… he'd lost count of the years. Lucius. Lux. Light. The irony was not lost on him, and inwardly, he laughed at the absurdity of it. Yet it was his. The rest of the name, the family name could go; there was no family left and no one for whom Divius Lucianus would mean anything, not even to him, not anymore. And so, he answered simply, "Lucius."

"Your Roman name?" Felix asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Roman?" Lucius responded. "Wasn't it you that said there are no such labels for us, and that all names are made up? Why should it bother you then?"

Felix smiled. "I suppose it shouldn't, if that's what you've chosen for yourself, if that's what you've chosen as one of us."

"Then of the things I will take across the sea," Lucius said as he turned to descend into the town to seek shelter before the morning light could start to burn, "I will take my name."

— — —

This fic fulfills the prompt "early days" for FK Fic Fest 2024.