Christmas Fic for Artyartie: The Slave with the Dark Eyes (Crossover)
Fandoms: Rome and Battlestar Galactica (This story is set in the To The Victor, The Spoils universe. In order to understand the full canon, it may be necessary to read the previous parts.)
Pairing/Characters: Cicero, Felix Gaeta/Marc Antony, undertones of Cicero/Felix
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Includes canon from first season Rome, but no real spoilers.
Notes: artyartie requested a 'scrap of a scene' between Felix and Cicero in this 'verse. It turned into more than that.
Summary: A new slave is sold into Cicero's household.
- - -
Slaves are replaced regularly, in any Roman household. Cicero doesn’t think anything of it.
If one of the new ones has a strange look about him, Cicero doesn’t notice it, at first.
~*~
“You know I used to shirk politics,” says Brutus, shrugging his toga virilis more securely over his shoulders. “Even as the sacred duty of my family.”
“Yes,” says Cicero, “I know.”
Brutus shakes his head. “I do still, but for a far different reason.”
Cicero doesn’t look towards Antony, at the head of the Senate chamber. “As do I,” he says.
~*~
It’s days, maybe weeks before Cicero recognizes one of the new slaves as the source of his discomfort.
He doesn’t quite match to any ethnicity Cicero has seen before - little bit of this, little bit of that, enough different to unnerve. And the way he watches…
Of course, his manner is perfectly subservient, or he would be beaten, but there’s something about his eyes that’s too intelligent.
~*~
“Tell me,” he says, to Tyro, “where did he come from? I’ve never seen his like.”
“Gaul,” says Tyro. “He was one of Antony’s spoils, as I hear. Sold and bought directly from Antony’s house.”
Cicero hisses in a breath. “He seems a perfectly adequate worker,” he remarks, to disguise the tension creeping down his spine. “Why would Antony want to sell him?”
Tyro shrugs. “Maybe it had something to do with the scandal.”
Cicero turns, at that. “Scandal?”
“I do not know the details,” admits Tyro. “Something to do with the death of a Roman citizen. I believe Antony took responsibility.”
“Did he.” Cicero straightens his spine. “What’s the slave’s name?”
“Felix.”
~*~
“Felix.”
The slave pauses, before leaving the room.
“That is your name, isn’t it?” asks Cicero, casually.
“It is, dominus,” says Felix, softly.
“Very Roman,” remarks Cicero. “Did Antony give it to you?”
Felix stiffens, very subtly. “My parents named me,” he says.
“Oh?” Cicero sits up. “Your parents were not Gauls, then.”
“My family is from a land far away,” says Felix.
“East?” asks Cicero. “West? South?”
“Far away,” Felix repeats. “I don’t know exactly where.”
It’s a lie. Cicero hasn’t become the orator he is without knowing when a man is lying. “Could you return there, if you so desired?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could you return to Antony’s household, if you so desired?”
Felix flinches.
“Answer me.”
“I suppose,” says Felix, finally. “If Antony would have me.”
“He won’t have you, then?”
No answer, to this one.
“You may go,” says Cicero, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
~*~
It is, Cicero admits, not difficult to imagine what Antony must have wanted with a slave such as Felix.
~*~
“How’s your new life treating you?”
“Antony.”
Cicero recognizes Felix’s voice, shaky as it is. He pauses, the murmur of the party low from the chamber at the far end of the halway.
“Who’s a better master, me or Cicero? …I suppose he speaks at you to punish you. God knows I endure enough of that in the Senate.”
“You should leave me alone.”
“I should - why, Felix.”
The two of them are around the corner. They must be just around the corner, barely out of sight -
“Are you trying to give me orders?”
“No.” Felix’s voice is low.
“And tell me, how are your secret friends? The ones you communicate with through a crack in the wall?”
Felix hisses, like Antony’s done him some pain.
Enough is enough.
Cicero rounds the corner.
Antony has Felix held against the wall - one hand, flat on the stone next to Felix’s cheek. One hand on Felix’s chest.
Cicero grits his jaw. “Antony,” he greets. “Perhaps you could desist molesting my slaves and permit them to execute their duties.”
Antony laughs, half in disbelief. “The orator himself, come to the defense of a lowly slave.” He looks to Felix. “I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. It’s your eyes. It wouldn’t be long before someone took you to their bed.”
Felix twists his head away from Antony’s touch.
“Antony.” Cicero’s voice is shockingly strong.
He hears footsteps behind him - “Dominus?” questions Tyro.
“Still beautiful,” murmurs Antony, tracing his thumb along the lines of Felix’s jaw. And there’s something in his eyes Cicero isn’t sure he’s ever seen before.
But Antony retreats, stalking past Cicero down the hallway, back towards the party.
Felix stays, frozen against the wall.
“My chambers,” says Cicero. “After the party.”
Felix nods. “Yes, dominus.”
~*~
There are larger affairs that Cicero should be concerned with. The Republic, Rome is in danger - will be, as long as Caesar holds the hearts and minds of the people - and he should be fighting for it.
But, right now, Felix has taken his attention. Absorbed it, quietly and easily, without Cicero even noticing.
~*~
Felix presents himself, obediently, after the party.
Cicero doesn’t look at him, at first. “You were in Antony’s bed.” It’s not a question. “Why did he sell you?”
“Why would a Roman citizen tell a slave what he’s thinking?” asks Felix, softly.
“Why indeed,” snaps Cicero. “And why would a Roman citizen pursue the slave he sold? Why would he continue to show attachment to the point of weakness?” He turns to Felix. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
Felix’s face is drawn, impassive. “If I said they lay towards Antony, would you have me killed?”
“Not if doing so would have me killed.”
Felix tilts his head. “My loyalties lie towards my home.”
“And where is your home?”
“Far-”
“Far away, of course,” Cicero finishes. “And are you a spy for that faraway land?”
“If I said I was,” says Felix, “would you have me killed?”
“Damn you!” Cicero moves to his feet. “What is it you want? Why are you here? For Antony?”
“I had no choice as to where I was sold,” demurs Felix.
“Of course you didn’t.” Cicero lets a scroll fall from his hand onto the desk with a satisfying ‘smack’. “If I let you out on the streets, this instant, where would you go? Would you go to Antony?”
Felix shakes his head. “No,” he says, softly.
He is honest, again. “What would you do, then?”
“If it was Antony I wished to go back to,” says Felix, carefully, “then I would wait, until he was driven to find me himself.”
Cicero pauses. “You would seduce him by forcing him to seduce you.”
Felix’s expression tightens.
Now, this is very interesting. And useable.
“You will return to your duties,” Cicero orders. “And your life will be very difficult, if I see fit to make it that way.” He pauses. “However, if you render your assistance in certain sensitive matters, perhaps I could be persuaded to lighten your load.”
“Whatever you say, dominus.” The words are forced out, through a tight jaw. Felix’s eyes are fixed, on a point on the wall. Almost military discipline, Cicero notes, with interest.
“You may go.”
Felix slips away.
Only once he’s gone does Cicero let himself smile, a little. Perhaps he has found his own way to reduce Antony’s iron control over the Senate.
Pairing/Characters: Cicero, Felix Gaeta/Marc Antony, undertones of Cicero/Felix
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Includes canon from first season Rome, but no real spoilers.
Notes: artyartie requested a 'scrap of a scene' between Felix and Cicero in this 'verse. It turned into more than that.
Summary: A new slave is sold into Cicero's household.
- - -
Slaves are replaced regularly, in any Roman household. Cicero doesn’t think anything of it.
If one of the new ones has a strange look about him, Cicero doesn’t notice it, at first.
~*~
“You know I used to shirk politics,” says Brutus, shrugging his toga virilis more securely over his shoulders. “Even as the sacred duty of my family.”
“Yes,” says Cicero, “I know.”
Brutus shakes his head. “I do still, but for a far different reason.”
Cicero doesn’t look towards Antony, at the head of the Senate chamber. “As do I,” he says.
~*~
It’s days, maybe weeks before Cicero recognizes one of the new slaves as the source of his discomfort.
He doesn’t quite match to any ethnicity Cicero has seen before - little bit of this, little bit of that, enough different to unnerve. And the way he watches…
Of course, his manner is perfectly subservient, or he would be beaten, but there’s something about his eyes that’s too intelligent.
~*~
“Tell me,” he says, to Tyro, “where did he come from? I’ve never seen his like.”
“Gaul,” says Tyro. “He was one of Antony’s spoils, as I hear. Sold and bought directly from Antony’s house.”
Cicero hisses in a breath. “He seems a perfectly adequate worker,” he remarks, to disguise the tension creeping down his spine. “Why would Antony want to sell him?”
Tyro shrugs. “Maybe it had something to do with the scandal.”
Cicero turns, at that. “Scandal?”
“I do not know the details,” admits Tyro. “Something to do with the death of a Roman citizen. I believe Antony took responsibility.”
“Did he.” Cicero straightens his spine. “What’s the slave’s name?”
“Felix.”
~*~
“Felix.”
The slave pauses, before leaving the room.
“That is your name, isn’t it?” asks Cicero, casually.
“It is, dominus,” says Felix, softly.
“Very Roman,” remarks Cicero. “Did Antony give it to you?”
Felix stiffens, very subtly. “My parents named me,” he says.
“Oh?” Cicero sits up. “Your parents were not Gauls, then.”
“My family is from a land far away,” says Felix.
“East?” asks Cicero. “West? South?”
“Far away,” Felix repeats. “I don’t know exactly where.”
It’s a lie. Cicero hasn’t become the orator he is without knowing when a man is lying. “Could you return there, if you so desired?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could you return to Antony’s household, if you so desired?”
Felix flinches.
“Answer me.”
“I suppose,” says Felix, finally. “If Antony would have me.”
“He won’t have you, then?”
No answer, to this one.
“You may go,” says Cicero, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
~*~
It is, Cicero admits, not difficult to imagine what Antony must have wanted with a slave such as Felix.
~*~
“How’s your new life treating you?”
“Antony.”
Cicero recognizes Felix’s voice, shaky as it is. He pauses, the murmur of the party low from the chamber at the far end of the halway.
“Who’s a better master, me or Cicero? …I suppose he speaks at you to punish you. God knows I endure enough of that in the Senate.”
“You should leave me alone.”
“I should - why, Felix.”
The two of them are around the corner. They must be just around the corner, barely out of sight -
“Are you trying to give me orders?”
“No.” Felix’s voice is low.
“And tell me, how are your secret friends? The ones you communicate with through a crack in the wall?”
Felix hisses, like Antony’s done him some pain.
Enough is enough.
Cicero rounds the corner.
Antony has Felix held against the wall - one hand, flat on the stone next to Felix’s cheek. One hand on Felix’s chest.
Cicero grits his jaw. “Antony,” he greets. “Perhaps you could desist molesting my slaves and permit them to execute their duties.”
Antony laughs, half in disbelief. “The orator himself, come to the defense of a lowly slave.” He looks to Felix. “I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. It’s your eyes. It wouldn’t be long before someone took you to their bed.”
Felix twists his head away from Antony’s touch.
“Antony.” Cicero’s voice is shockingly strong.
He hears footsteps behind him - “Dominus?” questions Tyro.
“Still beautiful,” murmurs Antony, tracing his thumb along the lines of Felix’s jaw. And there’s something in his eyes Cicero isn’t sure he’s ever seen before.
But Antony retreats, stalking past Cicero down the hallway, back towards the party.
Felix stays, frozen against the wall.
“My chambers,” says Cicero. “After the party.”
Felix nods. “Yes, dominus.”
~*~
There are larger affairs that Cicero should be concerned with. The Republic, Rome is in danger - will be, as long as Caesar holds the hearts and minds of the people - and he should be fighting for it.
But, right now, Felix has taken his attention. Absorbed it, quietly and easily, without Cicero even noticing.
~*~
Felix presents himself, obediently, after the party.
Cicero doesn’t look at him, at first. “You were in Antony’s bed.” It’s not a question. “Why did he sell you?”
“Why would a Roman citizen tell a slave what he’s thinking?” asks Felix, softly.
“Why indeed,” snaps Cicero. “And why would a Roman citizen pursue the slave he sold? Why would he continue to show attachment to the point of weakness?” He turns to Felix. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
Felix’s face is drawn, impassive. “If I said they lay towards Antony, would you have me killed?”
“Not if doing so would have me killed.”
Felix tilts his head. “My loyalties lie towards my home.”
“And where is your home?”
“Far-”
“Far away, of course,” Cicero finishes. “And are you a spy for that faraway land?”
“If I said I was,” says Felix, “would you have me killed?”
“Damn you!” Cicero moves to his feet. “What is it you want? Why are you here? For Antony?”
“I had no choice as to where I was sold,” demurs Felix.
“Of course you didn’t.” Cicero lets a scroll fall from his hand onto the desk with a satisfying ‘smack’. “If I let you out on the streets, this instant, where would you go? Would you go to Antony?”
Felix shakes his head. “No,” he says, softly.
He is honest, again. “What would you do, then?”
“If it was Antony I wished to go back to,” says Felix, carefully, “then I would wait, until he was driven to find me himself.”
Cicero pauses. “You would seduce him by forcing him to seduce you.”
Felix’s expression tightens.
Now, this is very interesting. And useable.
“You will return to your duties,” Cicero orders. “And your life will be very difficult, if I see fit to make it that way.” He pauses. “However, if you render your assistance in certain sensitive matters, perhaps I could be persuaded to lighten your load.”
“Whatever you say, dominus.” The words are forced out, through a tight jaw. Felix’s eyes are fixed, on a point on the wall. Almost military discipline, Cicero notes, with interest.
“You may go.”
Felix slips away.
Only once he’s gone does Cicero let himself smile, a little. Perhaps he has found his own way to reduce Antony’s iron control over the Senate.