Sharpie

You're my son. Tertius kept saying it, almost every time they spoke together, as if the repetition would somehow replace the closeness that fathers and sons ought to have. Almost as if he was trying to convince himself as well as Teutus of the truth of their relationship as father and son. It didn't make Teutus feel like he was his father's son, although he wasn't sure he knew what it was supposed to feel like, anyway. There had always been a distance between them that hadn't decreased with Teutus' manumission, though Varinia had pointed out something that Teutus hadn't really considered before, if he'd even thought about it. Tertius had never been allowed to be his father, and by the time he could, he didn't know how. That realisation hurt, as did the balance to it: Tertius was showering Peregrinus with the affection he didn't know how to show Teutus, because he finally could do so from the start. A fur-lined cloak... "I will see what I can do," he said, making a note. Wolf fur, he thought - something soft and luxurious and thick. It would suit Tertius. "Could I send a gift to Charis with you, if you won't take something for yourself?" He'd make sure not to charge for the pelt, but had a sneaking suspicion that would be the only way he could get Tertius to take it for free. @Atrice

"I meant, do you mind if I look at you," he said, suddenly understanding her confusion. He was not ever going to do it from behind, not with anyone; that would make him no better than the utter bastard of a Roman soldier who'd taken his grunting pleasure from Jason - an act he would never forget, but that blended in with all the other horrible things he'd seen and experienced that day nine years before. "How would you like to do it, pretty Ione?" he asked instead, suspecting that everyone who paid to have her just had their own way with her and never bothered what she might like, or not. As if she was a slab of meat or something - he would never understand how the Romans could see a slave and not realise that slave or not, they were still human beings and not just mindless creatures put on earth to serve their Roman overlords. @Sara

Jason had, naturally, accompanied his master to the new amphitheatre for the Games. He would never understand the Roman fascination with blood sports - pitting man against man in a fight just for fun was not his idea of a good time, after all. And the whole thing with the foxes was just barbaric - no doubt Tabiti would be horrified at seeing the sacred fire so used. He had no real idea what the Romans would consider a suitable method of execution for someone who had terrorised the streets for so long - it was bound to be thoroughly gruesome though. It wasn't as though he didn't have a strong stomach for things, but there was a vast difference between hunting and killing for food, or because the herds were threatened by wolves, and witnessing someone killed in cold blood. He supposed that was the difference between himself and the man who'd cut helpless women and killed unarmed people. He would watch this so that he could tell Azarion the man was dead, but he wouldn't enjoy it in the least - unlike the bloodthirsty crowds filling the tiered seats all around the amphitheatre. Would it really be any different if the man was staked out and filled with arrows, or left to die of hunger, thirst and exposure? Probably not, not really - and this was going to be as gruesome and painful a death as Azarion and everyone else could possibly want. If only it wouldn't bring to mind some of the more unpleasant memories he had. He glanced at Tiberius, who seemed almost nonchalant, although how closely he was actually looking at the torchlit sands below was anyone's guess. @Chevi @Atrice @Sara @Sarah

Jason let out a breath. It had taken a while to get used to it - he hated that it seemed that he had got used to it! - but taking everything else into consideration, where he had ended up wasn't in a bad place, with a bad master. It could be worse, far worse, and he could have a far worse master than Tiberius. Meeting someone from home, wherever 'home' was, gave a solid sort of connection. If Azarion had been unrelated to him, just another Sarmatian, that alone would have been a connection - someone who understood his own language, knew the same gods, had the same connection with horses. Losing that connection - well that was the reason the Romans did it, wasn't it, split people up and made sure they didn't have those links with anyone from the same place. Cinnia's friend sounded like an innocent - Jason had been aware enough, even in the early days, not to spill too much of his thoughts and feelings to people he didn't know. There were always tell-tales among slaves, people who tried to curry favour by telling the overseer - or even the master himself - about the stupid things slaves complained about without actually telling them anything useful, or that they might want to do something about. "It sounds... horrible. Complicated." He shrugged. You think you had begun to understand them and then one of them went and did something like that. "Right. Bloody Romans." Was this the sort of thing Tiberius wanted to encourage? Discourage? Ignore completely? Where on his scale of 'not fair' would this sort of thing land, in short? "How are you, with all of that? It's - horrible, to watch that from the outside." He shuddered, unable to prevent the memories of that horrible day that he and Azarion were enslaved from rising - the sheer helplessness of watching what the Romans did to the other prisoners was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, yet he could see echoes of it in Cinnia's face. He reached to clasp her hand, to offer companionship and understanding, the only thing he was able to give her. @Atrice

"You missed my entire year of consulship," Aulus put in with a broad smile. "Anyone would think you'd arranged it deliberately - I daresay there are still one or two walls with graffiti decrying me as being the worst consul Rome's ever had, though most have seen my name painted over with that of one or other of this year's consuls." What else had his favourite brother-in-law missed? He couldn't think of anything urgent that Publius needed to know about - he would already be aware of Quintus Augustus' decision to step down and hand the imperial reins to his son - and looked at Horatia, who was bound to know more of what might interest her brother in the way of family news. "None of us are as young as we used to be - have you had any thoughts about your next step in the cursus?" If Publius went for consul, he could rest assured of Aulus' full support there. @Sara @Sarah

It was different, she wasn't wrong there. In some ways, Attis was glad it hadn't needed to be a big thing like the master's future wedding was bound to be - proper vows with a proper priest and the very proper sacrifice of a sow, and probably half of Rome crammed into the atrium and spilling out into the garden and through the rest of the house... Loud and boisterous Attis might be, he was not one for wanting a whole lot of display (well, if he had to be honest, slaves weren't used to making a whole lot of themselves apart from the rare occasions when they were the display that their masters showed off - and neither Longinus nor his father had ever shown any inclination of that sort!). "I'm glad you like it," he told her, sitting next to her and keeping one arm around her. "I'd hate to have done all that only to find you hated it." Though slave marriages weren't formal official things and could be broken up as easy as blinking by a master - but Longinus had long given his blessing to this particular union and Attis didn't think him at all likely to revoke that blessing and consent now. Whatever else he might be like as a master, he was not capricious, for which Attis would always be grateful. "Soon, maybe, but not here - Dominus told me he's prepared to pay for a good midwife and everything. I think he'll rather like having a new child in the house." Even if they would have to try to keep him from hearing the baby when it got hungry or hot or cold or any one the hundred other things that made babies cry. @Chevi

Jason was overtaken by a yawn and had to turn his head away, raising his arm so the crook of his elbow muffled any sound that escaped though he fought to remain silent. Possibly the only person who got up earlier than him was the vigilis; he had been awake for more than a full day by now and could not expect to be allowed to get any sleep until after sunset today. Such was the life of a slave; he knew from experience that he just had to get through the next hour or so and he'd get a second wind. In the meantime... "I think the chief -" he corrected himself; he'd used the Sarmatian word in his tiredness and because it had been the sign Azarion had used to him "-the head, of the Whites' racing faction might testify, Domine. There were two attacks on his people and the first one got a plebeian girl killed. I think he saw her body, he'd be able to describe everything. That might show a pattern?" Although he hadn't seen the bastard's face; Azarion had and couldn't describe it, and was a slave anyway. Whichever way you skinned it, they kept coming back to having Ovinia or the other high-class lady talk to his master. @Sains @Atrice @Sarah @Chevi

"I guess so." Attis grinned at her, probably making him look a little deranged but oh well. "Doesn't feel much different, does it?" Well, they had practically been married before, but it was nice to have it confirmed. "Let's go - you look as if you need to sit down." Being pregnant didn't look all that comfortable, really, and Attis slipped his arm around her to offer her a bit more support. @Chevi

"What she said," Attis declared, and squeezed her hand. "Which is to say, we take each other to be husband and wife." Maybe he should have said something about 'ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia' to Metella - but doing it like this was no less valid and entirely them. Longinus would laugh himself silly if he ever learned about it, though, Attis was certain of that. "If you could put in a good word with Juno, we'd appreciate it - and please bless our baby." Whatever sort of life their child would have, Attis didn't know, though he knew that there were far worse masters in Rome than Longinus, who was more of a benevolent dictator in his house than the stern paterfamilias that he might be expected to be. @Chevi

"Not in your state," Attis exclaimed. They'd have difficulty getting her to her feet again, probably. "Um. I don't think there's any real sort of ceremony for becoming contubernales - you just say you are, and act like you are, and you are." They'd practically been that for months, anyway, until Metella had come right out and said it. "I don't pray all that much," he added, and set the basket down. Hopefully gods of fruit trees didn't expect an animal sacrifice of any description; the basket contained a loaf of bread and some fruit - all that Attis could procure without having to ask his master for funds. Longinus probably would have given him some money, but this was for him and Metella, he was allowed to want to do something without having to ask, surely? "We've come to ask your blessing on - us," he said, looking up at the two gods, whose statues weren't honestly much bigger than him and Metella. Pomona had a smile on her stone face, at least. He reached to take Metella's right hand in his own. @Chevi

"Patroness, then," Attis returned, and shrugged. She was probably right about the woman not wanting to bother Juno again for a good long time. "Dominus might? And quite apart from being the gods of fruit trees and orchards and stuff, they're the only two I can think of who are quite happily married." They were older gods, too, which meant they were more minor gods in the pantheon, and that surely meant they'd be more inclined to grant their good fortune to a couple of slaves? Leave Jupiter and Juno to the senators in their pristine white togas... The temple of Pomona and Vertumnus was smaller, distinctly older than the grand temples of the Capitoline and the Forum, with a far more homey sort of atmosphere. The statues of the god and goddess within were less imposing than the enormous statues of Juno Moneta and Jupiter Capitolinus. Attis shifted the basket he was carrying so that he could help Metella up the temple steps. @Chevi

"I'm sure you will be - I don't see any reason even Juno wouldn't grant you her favour." He shut up then, Juno was known to be changeable and while Metella had helped the consul's wife in her temple, she might not be exactly favourably disposed towards Metella considering how she'd treated Juno's priestesses. Thinking like that made his head hurt. Anyway, Metella was probably a long way beneath Juno's dignity and all. "You could ask your friend the consul's wife to make a sacrifice to Juno for you, perhaps?" he suggested, readying himself for a thump by way of response. @Chevi

"Well, you kept on saying no to me," Attis pointed out. "If you'd said yes a bit earlier, we could have done this a bit earlier." Not that it was particularly necessary to do it in a temple, but it was the sort of thing Metella liked, and he thought she'd appreciate Pomona and Vertumnus, gods of orchards and harvest and all. "And we're coming here because this is the only temple to Vertumnus and Pomona in Rome, and it's more suited to us than the temple of Juno Moneta up on the Capitoline besides being a lot closer to home than the Capitoline is. Technically we don't need to do it in any temple but I thought it was important to you." He tightened his arm around her a little, careful not to crush her wreath - and trying not to think about the start of the day that last time they'd worn wreaths. He was wearing his best tunic, a rusty orange one that had somehow survived Ragum. "It's just there, see?" @Chevi

Attis offered her a rueful shrug. "There aren't very many things that can be said for being a slave," he told her. "But there are a lot of choices of names, and some of them are rather nice. Just... don't let anyone pick something with a dubious myth attached to it." He wasn't enamoured of the story of the legendary priest of Cybele that he'd been named for - on the other hand, he'd flat out refuse to answer to anything else if Longinus ever took it into his head to attempt to rename him. There was something to be said for being a homegrown slave, at least; he'd never suffered the indignity of having a new name foisted on him. He gently pulled Metella's head to rest on his shoulder. "We've got a good master, though - but if you ever let on to him that I said that, I'll tell him pregnancy's making you imagine things." @Chevi

"I'm sorry, I..." He'd messed up, he could see that. He wasn't stupid, after all. He wasn't sure what would be worst though, if she just laid under him and let him do as he liked or if she pretended to like it. Having sex with someone who hated it was a very different thing from someone pouring a cup of wine or fastening someone else's sandals for them while hating it. "If you would rather do something else, that's fine, honestly." He laid down, looking up at her. He would like her to be happy, but that wasn't exactly realistic, not in some horrible grotty place like this. ""Is there anything you would - anything you don't want me to do? I mean, anything in particular. Or - How would you prefer to do it?" If they even had to - although for all he knew, her master might like checking on the men who came here and how they were being serviced. Men in the throes of passion likely wouldn't notice if they suddenly had an audience, after all - and most people in Rome were surrounded by slaves their whole lives and tended to forget that they were conscious people who could see, think, feel and speak. It didn't immediately occur to him that she could probably describe numerous sexual acts in details that would leave him blushing and squirming all without turning a hair. "Can I... can I look at you?" It might help, it might not. This whole thing was so stupid, just because he'd suddenly got hit by reality or something. @Sara

"Oh, Juno, he would, too, the unimaginative thing," Attis replied with a groan. Vitus had been named because he was the opposite of whatever lively mood was conjured up by the name. Florus, earlier Chlorus, had been named for his miraculous green thumb. Celsus was named by Sulpicius Rufus. Come to think of it, the only time Attis could recall his master naming anything, he'd called the big bag of wrinkles that was the puppy gifted him by Sulpicius Rufus Rugam. Wrinkly. Unimaginatvie wasn't anything like a strong enough word. "I'd suggest Melita but it's too close to your name. Anyway, there's as much chance of it being a boy as a girl, and I'm just as bad as Dominus when it comes to naming anything." @Chevi

"Me? No." Attis didn't expect that Longinus would relish the thought of naming their child - a lot of masters would, but Longinus was different from most Romans. Even with that thought, it hadn't occurred to him that that meant he would probably have to come up with some sort of name himself. "But isn't that why there's several days between the birth and the naming ceremony, to give the master - or whoever's going to name the baby - a chance to think of something?" He had several months to come up with something, just in case Longinus decided to be different in this as well. Not that he really wanted their master to name their child, but it was always safest to assume that he would be as Roman as everyone else. @Chevi

"Well, there's the problem. I'm not entirely sure I do know what I want," he confessed with a shrug. His people were not exactly warlike invaders, carrying all before them and dominating those they conquered, after all. They were hunters and nomads, ranging free on the vast wild steppe, not conquerors imposing their will and culture wherever they planted their foot. "And no, I did not know that," he added, smiling. That might be simple flattery, but he had not gained the impression that she knew how to lie convincingly, either in her words or her actions. They were much closer than they were a moment ago, and her fingers traced over his face. "Have you ever enjoyed it, or has it always been a pretence?" he asked, though he didn't think he really wanted to know the answer to that question. It was too late to take it back now, though. "And if not actual sex, what else could we do that wouldn't upset your master?" Though surely, surely, the man would rather have Jason's money and his assurance that he was happy with the service, whether that meant he'd had satisfaction or not. @Sara

How in Tabiti's name did such a sweet guileless young thing end up in a place like this? Jason pulled his own legs in to sit cross-legged at the other end of the bed from her. "Well, you know how to flatter a man," he said with a smile. "I'm not good at this either - but that's obvious, isn't it." He would be willing to bet that the Romans had absolutely no compunction about forcing it, here or anywhere else. They hadn't conquered half the known world by being squeamish about things, after all. "I don't want you to feel you have to fake it for me," he said. It was that more than anything that had thrown him, the realisation that she was just going to lie there and let him and pretend she liked it... Maybe he had just been too fast. "You're pretty, you know," he said. She could maybe be very pretty, if she had a little more flesh on her bones and didn't have that slightly defeated look that seemed to hang about her. She didn't belong here - she'd do far better elsewhere, though it was unlikely she would ever have the chance to be elsewhere. @Sara

Jason wasn't interested in forcing her to do anything. The problem was that his body didn't agree, it had been too long and he was too pent-up to be able to push off her and sit up, although he should do that thing, pay, dress and walk out. The moan broke the spell and he sat up, trying to calm his breathing and calm his heart-rate down. "I'm forcing you. I don't want to. I've been... it happened to me, once, I don't want to do that to anyone. I don't need to - I don't need you to pretend." Someone less observant would probably never have noticed, or cared, but Jason had survived eight years of slavery mostly because he was observant. "I don't want you to hate me," he added, though in a few days' time he would probably have merged into the mix of all her customers and she wouldn't remember him at all. "How about we just talk?" @Sara

He could not entirely dismiss the fact that Ione was not here from choice, but he had no intention of forcing her to do anything - he had been forced, once, and while it was surely different for women and men, he was not the sort that would ever be happy to make someone do that unless they wanted to. And yet he was here. Surrounded by sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and the pants, groans and cries that naturally accompanied the act. He sat up again, only to gently press Ione down to the straw-filled palliasse, one hand on her chest and one on her back, until she was lying down with him kneeling above her. He gently nudged her knees apart and pushed in, leaning down to press his lips to hers, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that tried to inform him he probably didn't want to kiss her when she more than likely used her mouth on some of her customers. @Sara

"Of course," Teutus said, pulling his wax tablet from where it hung at his belt as it always had so that he could make a note on it. "Light blue for Charis, maybe?" She would look good in light blue, a shade to match her eyes and contrast with her hair. He had promised his mother that he would try to find some sort of middle ground with his father; she had pointed out that maybe he didn't know how to be what Teutus wanted, and that Teutus should try to accept him the way he was. And if Tertius only knew how to show his affection in offering material things, then perhaps he would be able to understand and accept that from Teutus? "I would like to make you a gift of something, Father," he said. "I couldn't have started this if you hadn't given me the means to, and a gift isn't going to bankrupt me." It did feel very much the sort of thing Tertius might have done for any of his clients, but Teutus would just have to accept his father the way he was, not try to make him fit some idea of what he ought to be, because that way was just making things between them worse. If Tertius could give gifts to show his affection, why couldn't he accept them when someone else wanted to show him the same thing? "Furs - I believe so. Are you after anything in particular?" @Atrice

Their positions were swiftly reversed as she knelt up to look down at him. "Nobody deserved what he did to them, Ione," he said. "Nobody. Not them. Not you. And yes, it was. Exactly what a coward like him deserved." Tiberius had more than repaid Jason's faith in him, in the end. There had been a horrible few moments when it had seemed as if his master would insist on dragging it through the courts, and then he'd offered the choice that Jason had hoped he would when he'd suggested taking the matter to him directly. "I was one, there were others," he said. He was here, they were not, and it was only by pure chance that he'd found one of the girls the monster had hurt. None of the others were at all likely to find themselves here, though. He smiled as her fingers brushed through his hair, snagging a little on one of the two tiny plaits that kept his hair out of his eyes. He supposed any other man would demanded that she show him. @Sara

"I saw him die," he repeated, even as she flung her arm around him and buried her head in his neck, knocking him off-balance onto his back. It couldn't be at all comfortable for her with her face pressed to the iron slave collar around his neck but she'd surface soon enough. "He hurt other people, I met some of them." Ovinia, who he'd carried home covered in blood. Didia "I pulled a knife on his balls...". Azarion, his cousin, the pent-up ball of fury who couldn't even describe him properly because the Roman bastards had cut his tongue out years before. "It was at the Cerealia games," he added. It was all he would say - this sweet innocent prostitute didn't need to know the way he'd died, just that he had. "We were told he used to come here and hurt the girls, but that's all." None of them could testify and so none of them had been involved any further - anyway, it sounded almost as if the brothel owner had let him do what he wanted to the girls, so there was very little chance of him testifying. @Sara

"No." This was awkward, with him looking down at her. He shifted until he was lying beside her, on his side with his elbow on the rough straw mattress and his head propped on his hand. "No. I met some other people he hurt." He looked into her eyes, which were wide and guileless and looked somewhat fearful. "Ione - Hilaera. He's dead, the man that did that to you. I watched him die and he will never hurt you, or anyone, ever again." Whatever that meant to her, in this place, where plenty of other people might well hurt her physically or otherwise. It was going to be even more awkward to go from this conversation to actual sex, but this was more important and he would pay for her time whether they did the deed or not. That would only be right, after all. @Sara