Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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Quietly, Germania coughed to announce his presence, not wanting to startle his quarry and set off another three days of thankless tracking through hostile conquered territory. With a sigh, the heir to Gaul sat up, staring at the tall stranger, expression guarded.
“Is he here? Is my mother’s murderer here?” he asked in a voice that had not yet lowered, his Latin accented but understandable.
Germania held out a hand, not daring to pass through the circle even though the power of the druids had already been crushed and scattered by Rome’s might. “Come with me. He wishes to see you.”
The boy got to his feet obediently, his wild ferocity subdued after Vercingetorix’s surrender to Caesar, after his mother faded away into oblivion, leaving him to watch over the Celtae tribes alone.
“I want to see him, too.”
Inside the Roman camp, Germania had the not enviable task of making sure young Gaul was fit to be presented, a task he could not quite trust to any of the other soldiers. Rome would not feel proud of having conquered someone in such a miserable state and had bade him to take care of the boy before the general’s arrival. Why that would matter, Germania did not know, only that the republic cared much about appearances. And young Gaul currently had the appearance of a drowned rabbit.
His face showing no expression, Germania took out a knife to cut the long hair to shoulder length, then rinsing the lime out with water. While he undid the boy’s twisted braids, Gaul reached up to take a strand of Germania’s own hair in between his fingers.
“Your hair is like mine,” he murmured dully, dropping the strand of hair. “Why doesn’t he make you cut your hair?”
He had no satisfactory answer for that, for it was an uneasy and often nonexistent alliance between the Roman republic and the tribes of Germania, and it would be hard to explain even to himself. Instead he silently smoothed the boy’s bright blond hair with his fingers until it shone in soft waves. Truly, Gaul was as comely as his mother, with well-shaped limbs and pale delicate features, needing very little else other than a good meal to bring out his unworldly beauty. Rome would be pleased to see him, even after this half-hearted attempt to carry out orders.
“Put on these,” Germania said, handing him a set of civilized Roman attire to replace his grubby tunic and pants. At the boy’s questioning look, Germania nodded, allowing Gaul to keep a king’s ransom in jewelry, the exquisite gold torc and cuffs and rings that had first brought Rome’s wandering attention to the Celtae.
“Rest while you still can, child. He will be here soon.”
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“Ave, Germania. I can not thank you enough for finding him.” The other man did not smile or return greeting, to be expected between these two. “Now, where is the child?”
His gaze roved over the sumptuously outfitted space and rested upon the slight figure half hidden within a red and light blue checked cloak. Shyly, Gaul pulled down the hood of the cloak and stood up, a wreath of spring blossoms in his hands. The republic smiled as the boy approached, and he bent his head to accept the gift. No conqueror’s laurels, but to receive a celebratory wreath from one of his enemy’s children, now that was highest gratification.
“Greetings, young Gaul. Or should I say, Gallia Comata? For that is your name now, as the newest province of the Roman republic.”
Gaul, now Gallia, nodded to show that he understood, even if he did not like it. Rome knelt and kissed the boy on the cheek, completely captivated by this barbarian child now broken and tamed, taking in the light hair and milk-white skin and wide blue eyes with delight. His greatest prize yet, exotic and beautiful, and unlike his other conquests, absolutely, utterly, wholly his. Reluctantly, Rome tore his gaze away and got to his feet, motioning for both to follow him.
“Well, we have a banquet to attend, so let us make haste before they finish without us.”
Gallia’s first impression of the Roman soldiers had been that of ruthless killing machines obeying orders without question, but as he approached the merry-making, he saw that machines had hearts and appetites and thirsts as well. There was singing, laughing, eating and drinking, and every legionnaire had a smile on his face, not for the love of glory and wealth but for the love of being able to rest and enjoy life. That is, every man but one, the general senator responsible for defeating the army headed by Vercingetorix, the calculating and charismatic Julius Caesar himself. His smile was genuine, but without the spontaneous warmth that his fellow soldiers displayed, for he had his return to the capital to consider, and such thoughts would sober even the drunkest man.
Caesar nodded absent-mindedly to Rome and retreated to his own tent, and no one seemed to notice Rome taking the chair at the head of the general’s table. After all, Caesar’s glory was Rome’s glory, and even if they did not know exactly who that tall dark-haired man was, they respected him just the same.
Not knowing what to do, Gallia hovered by Rome’s side, unconsciously pulling the hem of his tunic down until a strong arm grabbed him by the waist and set him firmly on the republic’s lap. He gasped in surprise and strove to balance himself with one hand clutching at Rome’s cloak. Rome chuckled, nuzzling the boy’s smooth face until he made a noise of protest, and then handed Gallia a cup brimming with rare Grecian wine. Sipping at it warily, he winced, more used to the honeyed mead served amongst his own people.
“You’ll learn to like it in time,” Rome assured him, and refilled his cup.
Germania watched the two of them coolly, ice-blue eyes missing no detail.
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“Look at him. He is beautiful, so beautiful,” Rome whispered as he carried the sleeping boy to his tent. “I shall watch over him tonight, friend, no need to look so scary.”
“I hope you do not take advantage of him in this state,” Germania said dryly, doubting that his warning would change the other’s mind.
“You wound me with your accusation!” Rome protested, looking affronted. “No, he is not a slave or a prisoner, but a citizen of the republic. He will have a choice, and I will honor his choice.”
“Like how you honored his mother’s choice?”
Rome glared at Germania then, sudden fury darkening his handsome features. “She made her decision long ago, and I gave her what she deserved. A warrior’s death in battle, what they all seek and have been duly granted.”
Germania shook his head. “I think you are making a mistake, to let your heart rule over your mind.”
“Then it is a mistake worth making.” Rome smiled down at Gallia’s sweet face. “Alea jacta est.”
He set the boy on a pile of soft cushions, gently unlacing the sandals from delicate white feet. As quietly as he could, he took off his armor, the breastplate and greaves, the leather under-tunic, and slipped on a clean linen tunic. Rome debated sleeping in his own soldier’s cot, but hearing a soft whimper from within the cushions, he knelt by Gallia’s side instead. Throwing caution to the winds, he laid down beside the youth, drawing a blanket over them both, watching him by the faint light of smoldering coals in a brazier. His heart indescribably full, Rome pulled Gallia close, breathing in his clean boyish scent, like forests and honey and fields of golden barley, hoping that one day, these dangerous emotions could be returned and made right.
Until then… he would take the risk.
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Anon is glad that Germania is included and is excited to read more! It makes it more interesting, rather than just Rome and Gaul!France.
Please write more. ^^
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But I think the thing that's really captivated me is the Germania/Gallia interaction. Ever since I read, "before the Frenchmen were French, they were Germanic" I've been craving some Germania and Gaul/Gallia!France happenings. And you had Germania cleaning Gallia up.
To sum up, Molester!Rome + watcher!Germania + cute-pretty-little!Gallia + awesome!writing = a very happy reader. I can't wait until you update~
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I had given up on this getting filled, let alone so WONDERFULLY!
I *adore* prickly Germania and arrogant Rome and Alea iacta est eeeee latin!!!! Gallia is so cute and I'm sniffling he lost his mommy, poor baby. I love that it's still kind of creepy and underage and drunk without being raperaperape and Rome thinks he's not being exploitative because this is normal, yeah?
And all the little historical details are so awesome. God, this is really well done and I'm very incoherent but this makes me totally ridiculously happy. *can't wait for more*
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I hope you enjoy the rest, anyway. (Recaptcha says obtain perverse... Hmm, yes, that will be happening.)
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I suppose I'm just confused.
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And you used Alea iacta est! <333 Latinspeaking!anon loves that!
This is so well written, and little France is so adorable, and sdighsdgishdgkjsdhgksdgsjdhgkjdshg.
<3
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Gallia woke with a fearsome headache the next morning, made even more unpleasant by the unexpected sight of Rome’s sleeping face right next to his. He yelped, causing Rome to wince at the sound, and tried to scramble out of his embrace.
It was at that precise moment Germania ducked into the tent, flask and cup in one hand. Assessing the scene before him, he raised a disapproving eyebrow at Rome.
“Don’t look at me like that, nothing happened…” Rome grumbled, blinking at the sunlight slanting in through the tent’s opening as if it personally insulted him. By his side, Gallia sat up shakily, looking dazed.
Although Germania seemed satisfied that all was well with the boy, he ignored Rome completely as he handed a cup of water to a grateful Gallia.
“That cold-hearted monster, never thinking of my pain,” Rome thought sourly, and contented himself with watching Gallia wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. How he looked forward to correcting his manners, to civilize the barbarian, polish him and turn him into the perfect companion. But there was work to be done, here, Germania was already handing him a list before heading out to join his mercenaries, and groaning, Rome got to his feet in order to tackle those duties and maybe find something for this cursed headache.
Not too surprisingly, Gallia quickly recovered from his hangover and was now tagging after Rome like a restless puppy, asking about everything that caught his eye and generally making it difficult to focus on the tasks at hand.
“What are you writing? Is that a drawing of your lands?” Gallia asked from over Rome’s shoulder, pointing to one of the scrolls littering the desk. He bent closer to inspect the papers, so that Rome could feel the boy’s long hair brush against his ear.
He nodded, smiling at the curiosity apparent in those deep blue eyes. “See, this one here maps the borders of the republic proper, and this one, some of the general’s recent battles.” He glanced sideways at Gallia, who stared back at him with polite blankness. “Do you know how to read?”
“I can read… but not these letters,” Gallia admitted.
So that meant he most likely knew the druidic runes, an impressive accomplishment for one not initiated into that secretive class (at least, not to his knowledge). Impressive, but frankly useless.
“Very well, Gallia, I shall teach you how to read and write, in Latin. It might be difficult for you to get around the city otherwise.”
“What? I’m going to the capital? With you?” His pretty mouth opened in surprise, and Rome had to resist the very strong urge to kiss him right then and there.
“Of course,” Rome answered magnanimously, not bothering to remind the boy that the king of the Gauls had to be presented to the Senate and citizens before getting executed.
“It is a marvelous city, my home, you will be amazed. Perhaps you might someday make it your home as well.” He traced the ink outline of the peninsula thoughtfully with a callused finger. Then he looked up, the usual winsome smirk returned, and pulled Gallia down to sit at his side.
“Come, my sweet Gallia, I will teach you your letters.”
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The first paragraph with Gallia and his mother, and then Rome, was nicely executed. I like how subtle it is whenever Gallia made contact with Rome, or the little expressions and actions that are sure to send Rome over the edge. 8D
“Come, my sweet Gallia, I will teach you your letters.”
Highly anticipating this! \o/
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“Am I doing it right?” Gallia asked for the second time, wondering why Rome had gone silent. That seemed very unusual, from what he knew of Rome so far.
The republic cleared his throat, suddenly brought back to reality, and nodded. “Perfect, well done.” Gallia was looking at him oddly, and to save himself from further embarrassment, Rome moved back a little to give the boy some room.
“Shall we continue?”
Gallia nodded, all innocent eagerness, and Rome leaned forward to kiss his cheek before resuming the lesson.
As it turned out, Gallia was a quick learner, accustomed to memorizing a subject after hearing it only once, and he mastered the Roman and Greek alphabets without trouble. Rome praised his progress effusively, enough to make the other blush and stutter his thanks.
“Why so modest, Gallia? You are a pleasure to teach, a fine student,” the older nation murmured, kissing the boy’s bare shoulder, then his throat and up to the smooth jawline, stopping only when Gallia complained about the scratchiness of his unshaven chin.
Now Rome could not help but think of other things to teach his new ward, one subject in particular urgently presenting itself at the front of his mind. If he were to be honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to just take his pleasure with what had been rightfully won, subtlety be damned… but he decided he would rather wait for Gallia’s inevitable consent, to see that wild spirit brought to heel under superior strength and sophistication.
It said much of him, that Rome did not even consider the fact that Gallia might refuse him, as defeatist sentiments would invite failure, and Caesar did not look kindly on failure.
Gallia would not refuse him, that was that.
But who knew how long it would take before his latest conquest would give consent, seeing as the legions spent almost ten years trying to subdue the Gauls, who were so disorganized and yet so stubborn as well. He would have to be very careful around this fair and delicate creature now under his protection, and not risk losing Gallia to anyone else until that time.
Reluctantly, Rome let go of the youth, and he suggested they meet with Germania and eat their midday meal before heading out to observe the practice drills of the legions. He hoped that would distract him from the tempting presence of Gallia at his side, at least for a little while.
[oh wow, long-winded anon is long-winded. s-sorry...]
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Anon would love to comment more but sheer sleepiness made me forgot what I'd wanted to comment. Just that anon is loving how the story is going and loves to see more. ^^
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