a bed in the heather [pg] Marcus/Esca
Title: a bed in the heather
Author: queenklu
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Fandom: The Eagle of the Ninth (movie!verse)
Word Count: ~500
A/N: Just a small ficlet written for wagnetic, since she asked so nicely! I thought I'd post it here before I lose it :D
Esca is used to the cold-even if he had not been born Brigantes the time he spent in the slave markets, in the gladiator’s pen, would have taught him to ignore the ache in his bones when a chill wind blew down the glen as they rode for the Wall.
Marcus, on the other hand… Marcus had been raised with only the net of dishonor to chafe against, no harshness in the land to bring him low. And yet never once did Esca hear him complain, not even half-dead from cold as they fled through the river, rain pelting them from above. Esca had run for more than his life when he left Marcus there to find help-dread had been in his heart, knowing he might return to find Marcus already perished, clutching that thrice-damned Eagle to his chest.
And now, with the battle won and their journey almost at an end-Esca refuses to lose Marcus now.
“I’m fine,” Marcus says, trying to push him away as they settle down to sleep. There is no strength in his hands, or at least not enough to shift Esca, who can’t be sure if Marcus is simply too exhausted to shiver.
“Give me your hands,” Esca orders; when Marcus is too slow to reply, Esca takes them and shoves them under his own tunic, crowding close to Marcus on the ground.
Marcus jumps and tries to move away, forcing Esca to catch him before he rolls into the fire. “Please,” Esca murmurs, and he means to finish, Please lie still, but Marcus’s eyes are shocked wide open and he doesn’t fight again, at least, so Esca leaves it be.
“Are your clothes still wet?” he asks, when Marcus keeps his eyes fixed on him. If they are, Esca will have a time of it wrestling Marcus out of his clothing-Roman dignity be damned, Esca watched one of his clansmen die blue-lipped after being fished from the river once. But Marcus gives a little shake of his head, icy fingers curling slightly against Esca’s stomach.
“What will you do now,” Marcus asks, licking at his dry lips, “now that you’re free? I-I know you may feel duty bound to see me to the Wall,” he stammers before Esca can give an answer, “but I would understand-“
“I will see you to the end,” Esca growls, giving Marcus the smallest of shakes, wrapped as he is in Esca’s arms. “You have never treated me as a slave, and made my decisions for me. Will you start now?"
“No,” Marcus says, and Esca thinks he may be blushing in the dim light. His hands shift higher, close around Esca’s ribs in a way Esca abruptly understands-now he is blushing too, against his will, blushing because he should have seen these feelings in himself long before now. “It is in my heart,” Marcus says, lashes low, “that I be with you always.”
Esca’s hand clasps him at the nape, bringing their foreheads together. “It is in my heart also,” he says, and brings his mouth to Marcus’s for a kiss.
Author: queenklu
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Fandom: The Eagle of the Ninth (movie!verse)
Word Count: ~500
A/N: Just a small ficlet written for wagnetic, since she asked so nicely! I thought I'd post it here before I lose it :D
Esca is used to the cold-even if he had not been born Brigantes the time he spent in the slave markets, in the gladiator’s pen, would have taught him to ignore the ache in his bones when a chill wind blew down the glen as they rode for the Wall.
Marcus, on the other hand… Marcus had been raised with only the net of dishonor to chafe against, no harshness in the land to bring him low. And yet never once did Esca hear him complain, not even half-dead from cold as they fled through the river, rain pelting them from above. Esca had run for more than his life when he left Marcus there to find help-dread had been in his heart, knowing he might return to find Marcus already perished, clutching that thrice-damned Eagle to his chest.
And now, with the battle won and their journey almost at an end-Esca refuses to lose Marcus now.
“I’m fine,” Marcus says, trying to push him away as they settle down to sleep. There is no strength in his hands, or at least not enough to shift Esca, who can’t be sure if Marcus is simply too exhausted to shiver.
“Give me your hands,” Esca orders; when Marcus is too slow to reply, Esca takes them and shoves them under his own tunic, crowding close to Marcus on the ground.
Marcus jumps and tries to move away, forcing Esca to catch him before he rolls into the fire. “Please,” Esca murmurs, and he means to finish, Please lie still, but Marcus’s eyes are shocked wide open and he doesn’t fight again, at least, so Esca leaves it be.
“Are your clothes still wet?” he asks, when Marcus keeps his eyes fixed on him. If they are, Esca will have a time of it wrestling Marcus out of his clothing-Roman dignity be damned, Esca watched one of his clansmen die blue-lipped after being fished from the river once. But Marcus gives a little shake of his head, icy fingers curling slightly against Esca’s stomach.
“What will you do now,” Marcus asks, licking at his dry lips, “now that you’re free? I-I know you may feel duty bound to see me to the Wall,” he stammers before Esca can give an answer, “but I would understand-“
“I will see you to the end,” Esca growls, giving Marcus the smallest of shakes, wrapped as he is in Esca’s arms. “You have never treated me as a slave, and made my decisions for me. Will you start now?"
“No,” Marcus says, and Esca thinks he may be blushing in the dim light. His hands shift higher, close around Esca’s ribs in a way Esca abruptly understands-now he is blushing too, against his will, blushing because he should have seen these feelings in himself long before now. “It is in my heart,” Marcus says, lashes low, “that I be with you always.”
Esca’s hand clasps him at the nape, bringing their foreheads together. “It is in my heart also,” he says, and brings his mouth to Marcus’s for a kiss.