Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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The two of them then witnessed a most extraordinary display of beguilement, as Gallia managed to charm the gruff cook into giving him the choicest samples of the dishes being prepared. (Granted, even the best of soldier fare was nothing compared to what they served back home, but it was better than, well, nothing.) With just a flutter of his long lashes and a few well-chosen compliments neatly re-phrased into Latin, Gallia quickly had the cooks and servers under his command, every one of them eager to do whatever he wanted done, tell him whatever he wished to know.
Germania had to wonder if Rome noticed this, as the republic sank to one knee and playfully kissed and licked the boy’s sticky fingers clean of sauce, while Gallia laughed and tried to pull away. Secretly, he suspected that both realized what the other was trying to do, and felt the stirrings of an uneasy sympathy for the young nation, trying to pit innate cleverness against the manipulations of a much older, more decadent republic. No, Rome would have his way in the end, no matter how Gallia tried to defy him, and for now, all Germania could do was watch.
Despite the language barrier, Gallia managed to ask several probing questions of the various servants, questions with answers that a newly subjugated nation ought to remain ignorant of. Eventually Rome dragged him away so that the cooks could finish their tasks and the rest of the soldiers could get their meal. But it was too late, after the mysterious barbarian child had disrupted the camp’s routine, it took an entire afternoon to bring chaos into order.
To his disappointment, Rome discovered that Gallia was a promising student in practically every field except the one he most valued. The youth showed an almost vehement disinterest in the art of war, and it must be assumed that only his mother attended to such bloodthirsty matters. After all, the Celtae were as fierce as the tribes of Germania, frighteningly powerful, skilled in fighting from horseback, but undisciplined by nature, prone to arguing amongst themselves, not to mention highly superstitious and emotional, regardless of the gender of their war leaders. Extremely undependable - in other words, much like a woman.
Rome soon realized this show of superior military technology was for naught if the subject wasn’t paying any attention. There would be no talk of including the Gauls into the legions now, except as last-resort cavalry or mercenaries, if there were even enough men of age to fill those ranks left after the toll of the wars.
He ruffled the boy’s golden hair good-naturedly and sighed. “Let’s continue this some other time, Gallia.”
Shrugging, Gallia dropped the gladius he was holding, obviously preferring the famed longswords of the Celtae to this short, utilitarian and quite unglamorous blade.
“Whatever you wish, Rome,” he muttered, and then found himself embraced by the republic, whose eyes were full of tears of joy at hearing Gallia finally call him by name.
Germania refrained from looking to the heavens at this embarrassing display. There were no words, no words at all.
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Loving it thus far, can't wait for more.
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With just a flutter of his long lashes and a few well-chosen compliments neatly re-phrased into Latin, Gallia quickly had the cooks and servers under his command, every one of them eager to do whatever he wanted done, tell him whatever he wished to know.
8DDDDDDD Already having those tricks up his sleeve eh?
Anon is hungry for more!!! \o/
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Poor poor Germania. Indeed no word can describe my love for you, author!anon!
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Be as long-winded as you want. I'm just adoring every bit of this.
Eagle symbolism! Imperial Rome being creepy and 'civilizing', longsuffering Germania, besotted!Rome, flirtation games, the military politics, the creepy/sexy kisses and caresses, gladii!
I just! *flailsquee* So many things to love!
This is such a *smart* fill, in terms of the historical details, but still emotionally poignant and entertaining as hell and did I mention that perfect combination of creepy/sexy that was exactly what I was hoping for?
tl;dr: ilu anon
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“I was just washing up in the river, I didn’t go far.” The expression on Gallia’s face could melt far colder hearts, and Rome’s grip eased, though he did not let go.
“By Jove,” he breathed, half exasperated, half relieved. “You are under my protection now, Gallia. I beg you, do not leave my sight without permission. If anything should happen…” He did not finish his sentence, not even wanting to think of such a dreadful possibility, and held the youth close.
Gallia buried his face into Rome’s tunic, mumbling his apology.
“Sorry. Won’t do it again.”
Rome had to laugh a little at that, and he petted the damp blond curls gently. “No, no, you can bathe again, just… let me know.”
Though he was not planning on standing guard, but one could never know, there might be wolves about or other dangers lurking in the wilderness. So he told himself, not needing Germania to tell him what a pathetic excuse that was.
“Ah, you’re shivering. Here, drink, it will warm you up.” He reached over and pressed a goblet of spiced wine into Gallia’s hands, who took a sip and smiled gamely, to Rome’s amusement. Civilization will come soon enough, at this rate.
Setting his hands on the boy’s still thin shoulders, Rome leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, in what was meant to be a fatherly gesture, but which then led to another kiss and another, each one more desperate than the last. Soon, he found himself on his knees, the small body clasped against him, standing still and unresisting for once. Yet this close was not close enough, and only fanned the lusting fire in his veins.
“Should I lie down?” Gallia whispered, even as he knelt and leaned back onto the cushions, pulling Rome down with him, so that their faces nearly touched. Rome could not form a reply, could not even think clearly, and it took all of his self-control to stop himself from tearing at the light fabric of the boy’s tunic bunched in his hands. Almost trembling from holding himself back, the republic sought out the other’s face in the dim ruddy glow of the tent’s lamp.
Though he had noticed that the blue of Gallia’s eyes changed often, from searing summer sky to deep ocean azure, the myriad hues of his contentment and annoyance, now they were the unreadable shade of lapis from the East. Rome decided that he did not like that color, and certainly did not want to be the object of a gaze so like hers.
Retreating for now, he kissed the boy one final time on the tip of his nose before covering him with a blanket.
“Go to sleep, little bird,” he murmured, as he got to his feet with reluctance. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Gallia nodded and blinked sleepily, the spell was broken, and he burrowed deeper into the cushions. At last, Rome could lie down in his own cot, try to slow his breathing, ignore the smoldering heat in his loins. Or rather, he was on his way to doing so before he heard a tiny, barely audible reply.
“Sleep well, Rome.”
[lame short chapter for now]
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Ah~ It's getting so so good!!! *squees* Not lame at all!!! ;A; Eager for more~
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I especially like the contrast between how Rome feels towards her in comparison to how he feels towards Gallia.
And the last line there had me in awe for about ten minutes = =.
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and they don't even. there isn't. asdfjlkjafd.
I love how all the wrong and caring is all mixed up, and both of them are so clearly there and emphasize eachother rather than distracting from them.
this continues to be totally awesome. I love love love it.
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I'm absolutely loving this, Anon. Germania's popping up every so often (yes, I am biased towards him because he's a favourite of mine), Gallia's innocence, though it seems like he isn't completely so (I seriously felt fuzzy when I read the bit about him batting his eyes - dear God, I love France/Gallia when he does that - the imagery is lovely). And Rome! Oh hell, his messed up fatherly to perverted feelings are portrayed so perfectly. You can feel his resolve crumbling as this fic chugs along.
Can't wait for the next part! You're doing fantastically!
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Rome stopped laughing once he saw Gallia emerge from the tent, but his grin was still wide and warm, and Gallia could not resist smiling back.
“Good morning~!” Rome said cheerfully, motioning him over.
Germania’s mouth twitched into what might be something like a smile, which only made Gallia even more eager to know what they had been discussing.
“What are you talking about? Is it about me?”
Rome could not help but chuckle at the boy’s presumption. “Here, this one is yours.” There, at Germania’s side, was a beautiful white horse, bred from the noblest and strongest of lines, and now Rome was offering him the reins.
Speechless with delight, Gallia held one hand out to the filly, who looked back at him with alert black eyes. Once she had determined that this small human-like creature proved no danger, she sniffed at his hair curiously, then tried to chew at it, making Gallia giggle. He managed to free himself in order to give Rome a grateful hug, which was happily returned with some incoherent noises on the republic’s part.
Germania cleared his throat and business-like, handed Gallia his riding leathers, mentioning that they would be marching to the capital soon and he should get used to riding again. Much more timidly than with Rome, Gallia wrapped his arms around Germania’s waist to thank him, while the other nation looked uncomfortable and settled for giving him a pat on the head.
“You are not going to be so thankful once we march,” Rome warned, a rueful grin on his lips. “Civil war may break out in the capital at any time, and the general will be setting a fast pace.”
“I am a good rider, you needn’t worry about me,” Gallia assured Rome, and the two nations did not disbelieve him, having seen the boy at his mother’s side in battle. They watched as he whispered something into the horse’s ears and then as he clambered onto the saddle, perfectly at ease.
“See? We get along just fine!”
Though Germania regarded this extravagant gift of Rome’s with some suspicion, he could not deny feeling heartened to see the young nation so clearly happy after everything he had been through. It was apparent how Gallia's happiness affected Rome's own mood, but Germania did not believe it would divert the republic from his ambition for long. Still, he would not turn down a chance for a brief respite, and even attempted to smile once more at the other two nations.
Later that morning, after Rome had resumed overseeing the camp duties in preparation for their leave, Gallia snuck up behind him and yanked sharply on his cloak, only to squeal in surprise as Rome turned around and swiftly picked him up.
“What is it, little bird? Do you need something from me?” he asked, burying his face into that lovely golden hair as Gallia squirmed in his arms. He was finally set down, but found himself still trapped in the other’s embrace.
“I-I wanted to show you something, someplace special… if you have time, that is,” Gallia said, blushing hotly as Rome seemed intent on covering his face with kisses in front of everyone, even though none of the soldiers or servants made any indication that they noticed or disapproved. They must consider him a girl, Gallia thought sulkily, but he did not know a remedy for that just yet.
“I always have time for you, Gallia. Wait here, I’ll be with you in a few moments.” Rome did not believe this would cause a delay in the schedule, and thus entrusted the rest of the organization details to Germania, who glared at him warningly but said nothing.
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“Look, we’re here, Rome,” Gallia exclaimed, pointing ahead to a fair-sized clearing in which a shrine had been established. Back when it was first built, the menhirs must have looked impressive, but now the stones had fallen over, and it seemed that no one had used this place of worship in years. Wonderingly, Rome looked down at the youth beside him, trying to discern what purpose he served here. But there was no time to consider it as Gallia dragged him into the clearing.
“This is a shrine to Epona, our goddess of horses, and because you gave Avell to me as a gift, I thought you… might like to see her dedication.”
“Hah, I did not know that the Gauls had any peaceful gods,” Rome remarked. “From what I remember, your mother called only upon the ones who required my bloody head as sacrifice.”
“Teutates was her favorite, that’s true,” Gallia said, voice unusually stern. “But Epona nurtures us, so we pray to her for life, not death.” And Rome supposed he should be grateful that he was not to be burned or drowned or hanged in exchange for blessings on the horse.
Gallia retrieved the garland from his steed and set it on the crude altar, in front of a small statue of a woman sitting on a horse, their stone features worn down by rain and wind and time. Rome stood off to the side as the boy finished his prayers, speaking in that strange lilting language of half-pronounced consonants and song-like accents. His boyish voice faltered near the end, and he paused then to put his arms around Avell.
“Usually, we’d have apples as well. Because horses like apples,” Gallia explained, sounding slightly muffled by the horse’s mane.
Rome laid a comforting hand on Gallia’s shoulder. “Thank you for sharing this place with me, Gallia, I know it is very special to you. Perhaps, if you like, I can ask the senator if he would consider building a shrine for your Epona in the forum. I’m sure they would approve. She sounds… lovely.”
Gallia looked up, his face so childlike and vulnerable, it almost, almost made Rome feel guilty for deceiving him this way. “Y-you would do that for me? Rome, I… I can’t possibly repay you enough.”
Laughing, Rome threw an arm about the youth’s slender shoulders and gave him a slight squeeze. “Sweet Gallia, you do not owe me anything. Keep your gold for something else. But…” he smiled then, “I think I would like a kiss from you.”
“Oh, err… Don’t you kiss me enough already?” Gallia asked, nervously clutching at the fabric of his cloak as he sensed Avell abandoning him for a scrumptious patch of grass on the other side of the clearing.
“A real one this time, an adult kiss. You are a grown up, aren’t you?”
Gallia nodded. After all, he had slain plenty of Rome’s men, Germania’s too, so he was definitely considered a man by his people’s standards. He was also fairly sure that had little to do with Rome’s intentions.
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They drew apart to take a breath that had been forgotten in the rush, and Gallia smiled weakly to see the superiority wiped off of Rome’s flushed face.
“That was an adult kiss, right?”
“Yes, yes, very much so,” the republic murmured, distracted. “Though I would advise you to not do that in public.”
“Why?”
He could not find the words to explain right away, at least so that this beautiful, frustrating savage child could understand. “Here, Gallia, sit with me, I need to tell you something.” They sat down next to each other on the cool grass, and Rome took a few more breaths to slow his racing heart before he began.
“This would be your first lesson in the art of love, Gallia, are you not pleased?” Gallia made a face, and Rome grinned at his artlessness. “Pay attention now. This is called basium.” Rome kissed him again, lightly on the lips. “It is the kiss you may give to others in public, for greeting or farewell.”
“And saviolum, what we did first… you should not do that in public.” Certainly not in front of Germania, Rome thought, though it might be fun to see how he would react. “Saviolum means… it usually means that you wish to become intimate with the other person. While I’m not sure what the Gauls practice, such a gesture is not for other Roman citizens to witness.”
Gallia stared at him, wide-eyed, and then remembered to close his mouth. “Oh! I guess it’s a good thing no one else is here to see?”
“Correct. Shall we try the saviolum again? This time now that I have warning.” He patted his leg and said, “Come, sit on my lap, Gallia, yes, like that.”
If Gallia had not been particularly enthusiastic training under the auspices of Mars, he seemed much more open to the rites of Venus, and Rome thought that absolutely acceptable. He found nothing to criticize in the way Gallia initiated the kiss so confidently, how the boy twined slender fingers into his hair, then tugged at the wayward curls, and it was a blessed thing that Rome still retained some degree of self-discipline, for he did not expect that last bit at all.
Once they parted, curiously on the boy’s side, reluctantly on his, he rested his forehead against Gallia’s and whispered, “It makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”
Gallia licked his lips, nodding, and Rome had to again quell the thought of just ravishing the boy right there on the grass like a barbarian, because he wasn’t like them, definitely not. Even though they were in a nice secluded area and no one would hear and he would have Gallia promise to keep it secret, he knew Germania would suspect something, might have already, and he did not want to give the other nation any more reason to hate him before they even reached the capital. When did Germania develop such an uptight sense of propriety, he could not recall, but once they reached the city and the general paid the mercenaries the last of their gold, perhaps they might all get along better. He was quite fond of his neighbor to the north, whether or not those feelings were returned, and it was clear that Germania felt some regard for Gallia.
They would see things his way, sooner or later. It may well be later, but the empire could wait.
“Rome? Rome, can we… do it again?” Gallia asked shyly, eyes shining a matchless shade of violet-blue, and Rome, feeling a surge of something much like triumph, had to smile.
“Tonight, my Gallia, when we are alone.”
[footnotes: Teutates or Toutatis was a protector deity worshipped by the Gauls and Celts
menhirs: large standing stones, though I'm using them out of context here]
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The scene between Rome and Gallia was very sweet, and those little subtle details (the rose), and the altar. Also that even if Rome begins to teach Gallia of the art of love, Gallia is very much a natural at it.
Oh, there's so much more I want to comment~ Very much love how you write this. Can't wait for more!!!
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