Prompt Post 2
Welcome to the second round of the_eagle_kink .
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
- MORE MOD NOTES: Alright guys I know this fandom is really into historical accuracy and all that jazz but here's the thing. This is a KINK MEME and therefore historical accuracy is not ( Read more... )
The next strike, Liathan was slightly slow in meeting, his tired feet slipping and making him stumble. He scrambled backwards, bringing his blade up and turning the next strike away from him. He was no longer attacking, all his focus on blocking and blocking, keeping his feet steady.
The warrior pushed him back across the clearing, inch by inch. Each strike harder as he sensed his victory until finally he smashed down, the clashing impact reverberating all the way up Liathan's blade and along his arm to his shoulder. He stumbled back, his foot catching on a gnarled root, and fell heavily to the ground. The warrior kicked hard at his inner elbow and Liathan's arm went dead, losing his grip on the sword. The warrior was raising his own blade for the final blow and Liathan could do nothing but watch it fall.
There was a high pitched whistle, and the warrior halted, staring in comical surprise at the feathered shaft sticking out from his chest. Another whistle and a second arrow was lodged in his throat.
The warrior inhaled wetly, and coughed, blood leaking from his lips, and then, like a flelled tree, he began to fall slowly to the ground, crashing backwards. His body twitched and groaned in its death throes and Liathan stared in shock.
He scrambled away, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing the sword with his other hand, his weakened one still limp at his side. Esca stepped from the tree line, feathered arrow nocked, the point aimed towards Liathan.
They didn't speak, Liathan staring wide eyed at his unlikely saviour, Esca's face hard. He spared a glance for the warrior Liathan had already killed, another for the man he'd brought down with his arrows, then looked back at Liathan. They stared at each other silently, the birds still holding back their calls, the only sound was the hissing of the wind through the trees.
Then Esca did something Liathan did not expect. He lowered his bow, pointing it down at the ground.
"Go."
Liathan stared at him in surprise.
"Go," he repeated, jerking his head to the side.
Liathan did not move, waiting for the trick, for the bow to come swinging back up and the arrow to fly into his heart. But Esca did nothing, just stood there, a strange, pleading light in his eyes.
"Go, Liathan."
The use of his name startled him into moving and he edged around the body, not wanting to turn his back on Esca. He glanced quickly at the trees, then back, hesitating. Esca jerked his head again.
"Why?" Liathan asked, his voice raw.
Esca rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You want to talk now?"
"Why are you letting me go?" Liathan insisted, stubbornly.
Esca sighed. "I didn't bargain with Marcus for your life, only for you to waste it as a slave. Go."
Liathan took a step towards the trees, then stopped again. This time not thinking of Esca, but of himself, his people. The dead. What was he going back to? He was shamed. He had led his warriors, not to victory as his father had, but defeat. He had not died honourably, fighting his enemies, as his brother had, but been taken captive by them. He would return empty handed and alone. He would bring home only shame.
He stared blankly at the trees. But surely freedom was better than nothing? Surely there would be some way... His grief weighted down his feet and he could not take another step, his entire body heavy as if turned to stone
"In the name of the Gods, Liathan will you go?" Esca said harshly, from behind him. And Liathan dragged his heavy feet, finally heeding his order... only to see a Roman step out into the clearing.
Another followed close behind, this one armed with a bow and arrow like Esca. But unlike Esca, his was pointed at Liathan.
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The Romans were breathing heavily, as if they had only just arrived. Perhaps drawn by the earlier clash of blades. They spoke to Esca in their own tongue as Liathan scanned the tree line, he could still make a run for it, could still-
The Roman with the arrow raised his bow. "Don't even think about it," he said, his words accented heavily, but still understandable. Liathan held himself still. "Drop the blade," the Roman ordered, and when Liathan did not comply, he drew the string of the bow back even further, sighting down the arrow.
Still Liathan held on. He saw now, he had nothing to go home to, nothing to run to. Better to be dead than so shamed.
He heard the crack of twigs directly behind him and his muscles twitched in surprise, but he was too slow to turn, Esca had his wrist, twisting and breaking his grip on the blade with smooth, practised movements. He placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down, and Liathan, the fight finally going out of him, let himself be borne to his knees.
He heard an indrawn breath as Esca brought his hands together, felt the stroke of his thumb over Liathan's cut and bloodied hands. And then Esca was binding a rope around his arms, lashing them together tightly.
They left the clearing, the Roman with the sword went first, Liathan next, Esca walking behind. He kept his hand on him, on his shoulder or slipping to his back, resting between his shoulder blades. The touch more a reassurance than a warning. Liathan ignored it as best he could. Ignored the Romans as they led him back to the others.
He let Esca push him into the centre of the group, well guarded from running again. The Romans' eyes were wide, their hands moving often to check their blades. Settling on the pommels of their swords, or the strings of their bows.
Aquila sat on the ground, his leg stretched out before him. The dressing was clean, he must have replaced it himself while the others searched for Liathan. He asked Esca a question, gaze flicking to Liathan, then back. Esca withdrew his hand from Liathan's shoulder, Liathan very aware of the skin where his palm had pressed.
Esca answered Aquila's questions steadily, and since there was no uproar or anger, Liathan assumed he kept what he had said to him a secret. He didn’t know why Esca had given him that chance, still wasn't sure that it hadn't all been an elaborate trick. But the weight of his lost escape was lying too heavily on his shoulders, and he couldn't spare the energy to decipher Esca's strange loyalties.
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Perhaps Esca read his confusion as agreement, for he shuffled around behind him and began fiddling with the rope, Liathan soon felt it loosen and release. He looked up. The Romans were standing about, keeping watch, but Aquila was looking straight at him.
Esca moved round to his front, blocking his view of Aquila. He brought Liathan's arms up into his lap, and began to take strips of cloth, the same he used for Aquila's leg, washed and cleaned and cut up smaller. He began to clean then bind Liathan's hands.
Liathan winced slightly as Esca's ministrations irritated the cuts, but they were not deep enough to cause real trouble, they would just pull and irritate as they slowly healed. Liathan watched Esca work for a while, then, speaking quietly so that the words would reach Esca's ears alone, he asked, "Did you tell him?" Esca glanced up at Liathan from under his brows, a sharp look before dropping his gaze. He did not reply straight away, releasing the hand and taking the other, beginning to clean the blood carefully.
"Tell him what?"
Liathan scowled. "You know what."
Esca sighed. "I did not tell him."
Liathan looked over Esca's head at Aquila. He was looking at Esca now, a strange light in his eyes, possession and affection tied up into one. Liathan looked back at Esca, his head bent over Liathan's hands so all he could see was the mop of his hair and the curve of one ear.
"Will you?" he asked.
Esca finished with the other hand raised his head, his face smooth and blank once more, no hint of the emotion he had shown in the clearing. He stared back at Liathan, his gaze running over his face. "Perhaps," he said. He drew Liathan's hands together and tied them again at the arms, well above the dressings on his hands.
He rose and walked back to Aquila. They traded a few words, and then Aquila was commanding the Romans to break camp. They shuffled around, Aquila going to the horse, Esca making his hands into a step that he might leap into the saddle. The packs were removed and distributed between the others.
Liathan was bound again by rope to the horse and they began to move through the woods.
This time Liathan did not search for an escape. Did not watch the Romans move and catalogue their weaknesses, or the best moment to run. There was nothing to run to. He had lost himself his place in his clan, and Esca had taken from him his chance at death.
He stared at the back of Esca's head as they travelled, occasionally the line of his profile when Esca turned to look, or talk with Aquila. He did not understand him, this traitor who offered him freedom, who broke every bond of honour, but to whom he now owed his life.
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Everything blew me away this chapter. Liathan escaping, fighting, OMG ESCA. I really enjoy the way you write and the flow of this.
He did not understand him, this traitor who offered him freedom, who broke every bond of honour, but to whom he now owed his life.
WHAT A PERFECT LINE TO END THIS PART ON. OMG. <3
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I PROMISED MYSELF NOT TO READ THIS FIC BEFORE IT WAS FINISHED BECAUSE I JUST KNEW I WOULD GO MENTAL WITH WANT FOR UPDATES BUT HEY I HAVE FAILED. CLEARLY, IT TAKES A STRONGER WOMAN THAN ME.
THE PROMPT ITSELF IS GREAT AND YOU, YOU MY BEAUTIFUL AUTHOR, ARE DOING IT SUCH JUSTICE! IT IS SO WONDERFULLY WRITTEN AND THE POV IS RAW AND CONVINCING AND ARGH I JUST LOVE HOW THIS UNRAVELS AND ALL THOSE LITTLE SENSUAL DETAILS THAT I AM PROBABLY READING WAAAY TO MUCH INTO:
Liathan grappled with him, trying to pin him beneath his body, but Esca was fast, his body all bones and sinew. He kneed Liathan in the stomach, struck out at his head with his elbow and in a matter of moments Liathan was pinned beneath him, Esca's blade tickling his throat. Esca's hair was a little ruffled, a reddish flush to his cheeks.
OR
Liathan looked over Esca's head at Aquila. He was looking at Esca now, a strange light in his eyes, possession and affection tied up into one. Liathan looked back at Esca, his head bent over Liathan's hands so all he could see was the mop of his hair and the curve of one ear.
IN OTHER WORDS, I LOVE THIS
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They continued to journey towards the wall. The Romans stowed their armour in the packs, and together they looked much like any other travelling party. When set upon by bandits, they and Esca dispatched any would be attackers easily, but for the most part they avoided any people they saw.
They kept a slow but steady pace, Aquila varying between walking and riding to rest his leg. The walking sections gradually growing longer as it healed, Esca's skill clearly saving the Roman from any infection.
He saw too, to Liathan's hands and in a couple of days the wounds were closed and the bindings taken off.
Liathan was plagued by nightmares, each time waking sharply into the darkness. Esca was not always on watch, and when he was he made no movement, and no mention of it the day after. Since the Romans and Aquila failed to even give him strange looks, Liathan assumed he was silent when re-living the distorted memories, and he was glad that at least he did not attract any special attention on top of his suffering.
The dreams cast a grey shadow on the days that followed and Liathan was reminded of them at odd moments -- the sound of the wind through the trees, the sensation of water as he swallowed it down.
Despite his melancholy, Liathan found himself watching the changed scenery with interest. The settlements here were larger, trading towns placed squarely on crossroads or fords.
Liathan, with his skin free of woad and his headdress lost, attracted no particular attention, in fact, as they grew closer to the wall and finally joined the main road, he saw many walking similar to him. Slaves tied behind livestock, tied loosely in single file, or piled beside each other in a cart.
The sight sparked uncomfortable thoughts and he began to seriously consider his plight. Esca had persuaded Aquila to spare him and take him as a slave. Liathan had understood this from the first moment, from the second he saw Aquila's face change, back at the site of the battle. But despite the knowledge, he hadn't fully allowed himself to believe it.
He'd been taken in a fair fight, Aquila had held him down and choked the life from him. It seemed fitting then that his second chance at life would be also at Aquila's hands.
The debt of honour that Aquila had invoked for killing his father was balanced. They had fought and Aquila had won. The Gods had spoken. He thought perhaps he should hate Aquila a little more for what he'd done. But he could not find it in himself to mourn his father as he had his brother, despite the painful symmetry of both their deaths -- at the hands of Romans, for the sake of the eagle.
Consumed by his thoughts, it took him a while to notice the gradual swell of people on the road. Donkey and oxen carts eventually replacing those pulled by men, horses replacing men on foot. As the number of people increased, so too did the noise of talk and movement. Stalls began to line the sides of the road, food sellers and craftsmen hawking their wares. Trade was even done between travellers on the road as they walked, money and goods exchanging hands.
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He greeted them, raising his hand to catch Aquila's attention.
Liathan felt a bolt of fear. He may care little for Aquila, but if he was exposed as a Roman, things would not go well for any of them.
Aquila simply nodded and smiled, however, before turning back to the road, and Esca intercepted neatly, drawing the man back a little way from the horse. As they came closer to Liathan he began to make out their words.
"-is weary from the travel, tell me, how can I help you, sir?"
The man smiled, the movement shifting his beard but not reaching his eyes, which scanned their small group quickly. "Oh simply some talk between fellow travellers. I have come recently from the east, I bring much news..." He proceeded to elaborate on news of the clans, the different bonds of war and of peace. He inclined his head towards Esca, waving his hands as he talked, as if sketching the picture in the air. But his eyes strayed to Aquila, the horse, the Romans and Liathan, never alighting too long on any of them. Esca nodded, feigning attention, though Liathan was not sure how much he was actually retaining, and how much he was trying to think of an excuse to send the man away.
"But tell me, young sir," the man said, suddenly turning to pin Esca with a look from under bushy brows. "How far have you travelled? I see there is dust and mud on your boots and on your cloak."
Liathan was listening close now, wanting to hear what Esca would tell him.
"We have been travelling a long time. It is true." He nodded slowly, running a hand through his dusty hair. "My foster-brother is getting married." He nodded towards Aquila. "The ceremony is to take place in the lands of my people, and that of his wife. We are his honour guard, his uncles." He gestured towards the others. "Myself, and his slave."
The man nodded, digesting this information. Then he glanced at Liathan and Liathan tensed at the sharpness of his gaze, stumbling a little. The man looked back at Esca.
"His slave. Indeed. Has he served him long?"
Esca shook his head. "No, not long."
"Hmm." The man nodded. "A fine specimen, won in battle I assume?" And he looked again, this time his gaze lingering on Liathan's long legs and muscled arms.
"Yes," said Esca, shortly.
"Unusual gift for a bride," The man said lightly. "Unless you intended to trade him for something more... suitable? I notice you are travelling light." And his eyes flicked over their group again.
Liathan tensed, but managed this time, to keep his walk steady. It was true, for a wedding envoy, they were travelling very light.
Esca shook his head sharply, obviously realising the flaw in his lie as well. "No," he replied. "The slave holds some significance for my clan. He will be well received. "
The man nodded. "Ah, revenge is it? Well." He walked silently for a couple of paces. "Still..." He glanced up at Aquila. Liathan, familiar now with his usual seat on the horse, could see the difference, the tension in the way he held himself. He would be asking Esca for a full account of the conversation when they stopped.
Liathan tried to imagine what it would be like across the wall, in the land of the Romans, surrounded by conversations he could not understand. By people he could not understand.
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"Young, biddable. Well trained. Look for me at the inn in the next town, I stay two days before crossing the wall to trade with the Roman invaders." He spat on the ground perfunctorily.
Esca nodded stiffly. "Of course."
The man smiled genially again, and with a final lingering look at Liathan, he moved back to his own cart.
Liathan shrugged his shoulders, but the sensation of the man's look stayed with him long after he had disappeared into the crowd.
Eventually, as the sun sunk low into the sky and began to bleed orange into the clouds, Aquila called a halt. They continued a little way away from the road, enough to give them privacy to hold their own conversations, and Aquila dismounted, his steps sure, his leg causing him little trouble.
The Romans took the opportunity to rest, settling on the ground, one taking out some hard biscuits and sharing them between them.
Liathan squatted on the ground behind the horse, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he shifted his position. The familiar ache from a long time spent walking. He wished he could massage his calves, use his hands to ease the ache, but he settled for bending and stretching his legs out as best he could.
Esca and Aquila were talking, Esca's face betraying his nerves for once. He gave the road behind them sharp looks every so often. Aquila seemed intent on something, gesturing with open palms. Liathan watched them as they talked, trying to decipher their body language, Esca closed off, Aquila open. Persuading him of something then.
It was strange, they acted almost like the lie of foster-brothers was true. When Aquila gave orders to his Romans he did not wait to see them carried out, he knew they would be. But with Esca, he asked.
How had they two become equals? What bargain had they struck?
Liathan glanced at the packs piled on the horse. The bulky shape of the eagle, swaddled in cloth.
Had they agreed to seek the eagle together? But why would a Mac Cunoval aid a Roman to steal the Eagle? It made no sense. He kicked at the ground angrily. Esca made no sense. Aquila was at least, simple. He came for the eagle, he took the eagle. Liathan rocked back to sit squarely on the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him. And not only that, he gained a slave as well. A fine specimen, Liathan sighed.
Perhaps that was what they argued about. Aquila trying to persuade Esca to sell him off. An unnecessary weight. Esca had said he convinced Aquila to spare his life. It would make sense then for Aquila to want to be rid of him. Perhaps his time spent pretending to be a slave had left a bad taste in his mouth. Perhaps he wanted no reminders of all the fetching and carrying and following orders.
Liathan imagined being sold to the bearded man, remembering his intrusive gaze. He set aside his own unease. The man was just a trader, he'd sell him on to someone else, another clan, or, he said he was going over the wall. He'd sell him to another Roman perhaps.
Liathan winced, would that fate truly be better than the one he had now? He didn't know. The knowledge that he could not go back did not make the thought of his future any more palatable.
Aquila and Esca split apart, and Aquila roused the Romans. They began to walk again, back towards the road, A little while later a town appeared on the horizon, a dark smudge against the sunset, slowly growing larger as the light failed. They arrived just as the last rays were failing, the watchmen restless as night approached.
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The central square was sanded and almost clear of stalls, trading ended with the sunset. Some few traders were still packing up their wares, catching the last of the buyers.
One of the Romans moved to the front, clearly more familiar with the town, and he led them down the streets to a large building. Aquila dismounted and stayed with the horse, sending Esca in with the Roman to secure lodging.
Aquila and the other Romans did not speak, the stream of people in and out of the inn were enough to keep their Roman tongues still in their mouths. Liathan was gripped with a sudden mad urge to shout out, Romans, here! These men are Romans! But he blamed the thought on fatigue and bit his tongue. Aquila gave him an odd look when he saw Liathan's sharp grin, and Liathan turned away, dropping his eyes until he could control his face.
Presently Esca came out with a boy. They divided the packs between them, Aquila lifting the wrapped eagle carefully from the horse and hooking it under his arm. The boy led the horse away to the stables, and they made for the doorway and the light spilling out from it.
Inside, the innkeeper was standing, tunic stretched tight around his fat middle, his head balding and shiny with sweat.
The heat was suffocating, a roaring fire in the hearth, and the inn was full to bursting. There was a chair set in the corner and a bard sat singing with a reedy voice, his eyes glazed white and blind. Beside him, on the floor, a youth plucked her harp in time with his voice, her thick hair piled into braids around her head.
The innkeeper bellowed a name over the din, and a serving woman split from the crowd, carrying an empty jug of ale in her hands.
"See to these men, they'll take the rooms upstairs."
She nodded, passing the jug over to him, and running her hands through her dark hair. She smiled prettily, if a little wearily and beckoned for them to follow. She turned and sidestepped as a man left off from listening to the Bard and made for the door. His steps were made clumsy by drink and as he passed them he stumbled and fell, crashing into Liathan.
Here misfortune struck, and later Liathan would lay the blame solely at the feet of that twice damned eagle.
Liathan, whose hands were still tied, stumbled, unable to catch himself, and knocked into Aquila, like a line of game pieces stacked in a row. Aquila's leg, which had until that moment been masquerading as healthy, suddenly buckled and Aquila fell, his hands jerking upwards, his grip on the eagle loosening and the cloth covering it slipped, exposing the curve of its golden head.
Liathan allowed himself to fall fully to the floor, knocking the eagle from Aquila's hands and covering the hateful thing with his body.
He remained on the floor, using his furs to shield his movements as he pulled the cloth covering back over the eagle's head.
A moment later he was being pulled roughly to his feet. Aquila took the bundle from him, pressing close enough that Liathan could smell the salt of his sweat, before stepping back.
Esca was shouting after the drunk man to mind where he went, and when the man showed little notice of him, he rounded on the innkeeper. Who was staring at the bundle Aquila was gripping, a glittering light in his eyes.
Liathan swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. He dared not let the innkeeper see the fear in his face and he turned away, catching Aquila's eyes, wide and as white as his own.
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Their room was simple, the only light came from the fire in the hearth, flames settling in to suck away at the wood. There was a low pallet beside the fire, a larger bed in the centre of the room, and a small table in the corner.
Liathan looked straight at Esca. "The innkeeper saw," he spoke before they could, voice rough with nerves.
Esca pressed his lips into a bloodless line.
Aquila spoke then, and Esca nodded at him, waving a hand at Liathan and replying in kind.
Aquila glanced his way, speaking in his tongue and Esca translated. "He says thank you for your quick thinking in covering the eagle."
Liathan shrugged, glancing over at Aquila, then back at Esca, uncomfortable with the look in Aquila's eyes.
"If a thief is willing to slit one throat, he's willing to slit more. I did it to protect myself."
Esca raised an eyebrow, but translated all the same. Of course, Liathan had no way of knowing what he was translating, but since Aquila sent him a mirror of Esca's look a second later, he guessed Esca had translated honestly.
Liathan scowled. He could have been acting selfishly. Their time spent with his people had not been long enough for them to truly know him.
Aquila asked something and Esca replied before turning to Liathan. "You saw his face, do you think he will attack us for it?"
Liathan shrugged, still angry from before. "Who can predict the actions of a man without honour." Esca's face went blank, and Liathan ignored the snap of disappointment in his chest. Aquila spoke sharply, Liathan recognised the cadence, and he thought he recognised the shape of the words -- What did he say? Esca shrugged, not taking his eyes from Liathan and replied in a monotone, far fewer words than Liathan had said. Aquila looked between them, a frown between his lines, but he didn't press.
Aquila spoke a while longer with Esca, Esca pointing at the door, then both of them looking over at Liathan for a second, who controlled the urge to shuffle his feet under the sudden scrutiny. Esca walked over to the door. "I'm going to get us food," he told Liathan. "I won't be long." And then he was gone, Liathan and Aquila left alone together for the first time since the battle.
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"Liathan."
Liathan turned at the sound of his name. Aquila was standing by the bed. Hhe gestured for Liathan to come to him.
Liathan moved, walking slowly until he was a pace away, Aquila gestured for Liathan to sit on the bed, and Liathan moved jerkily around Aquila to sit.
His limbs were filling up with tension and his body began to flicker with energy at finding himself so close to the man who had almost killed him.
Aquila reached for his belt and took out a knife, the blade sharp. He brought it close to Liathan and Liathan tensed even further. Would Aquila kill him now? Take advantage of Esca's absence? He could blame it on Liathan, tell Esca he tried to run. Tried to break free, attack Aquila. Self defence.
Liathan dragged his gaze from the blade to Aquila's face. It was as unreadable as Esca's ever was. He raised the knife and Liathan could feel his pulse beating in his throat. Everything focused down to the point of that blade. The flickering shadows the flames threw against the wall seemed to slow their dance. He could run. He could attack. He could break honour and kill his master.
The thought roiled in his belly. The word settling weirdly into place between his bones. Master. He was a slave, taken honestly and fairly in battle. It all came down to that one question, that knife edge, did he accept with honour, or fight without. His heart beat heavily and memory placed a palm over his chest.
He tilted up his chin, baring his throat without breaking Aquila's gaze.
Aquila smiled grimly, and nodded slightly to himself. The blade flashed, moving swiftly downwards... and sliced through the bindings on Liathan's hands.
There was a second of silence, then Liathan exhaled roughly. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he stared at Aquila in mute surprise.
"Slave."
Liathan recognised the Roman word.
"Slave," Aquila said again. And this time Liathan understood. He nodded, swallowing roughly.
"Slave," he repeated, the word feeling heavy and strange in his mouth.
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He'd been taken in a fair fight, Aquila had held him down and choked the life from him. It seemed fitting then that his second chance at life would be also at Aquila's hands.
YOUR LIATHAN I LOVE HIM. LOVING EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS REALLY. All their interactions -- sdjkfgnsdfjkg. This fill, ILU. <3
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you write Liathan and Marcus and Esca through his eyes all beautifully.
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Uuuugggghh, nonny, you are killing me with this! *heart-shaped pupils*
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