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Tertia Charis . ex-slave and present concubina to tertius quinctilius varus . . finished . . back in time/AUs . How to Train Your Dragon - September 71AD - Charis (Erea) & Ambrosius (Turi) Charis spends quality time with her brother in Britannia. Trading Words - Winter 71AD - Charis (Erea) & Aia (Aius) Charis trades blows with the interprex of the occupying legion. Brothers and Sisters, Sons and Daughters - December 72AD - Charis (Erea), Ambrosius (Turi) & Nymphias (Ardra) In Britannia, Charis spends time with her family. Run- Charis & Cynane - AU Charis and Cynane flee Rome . seventy-four AD . Little Bird Caged - Late March 74AD - Charis & Rufus Now enslaved, Charis meets Rufus in the market. The Meat Market - Late March 74AD - (NPC Charis), Tertius & Spurius Charis is sold to Tertius Quinctilius Varus. An Introduction - Late March 74AD - Charis & Teutus Charis is shown the ropes by fellow-slave Teutus. Great Expectations - Late March 74AD - Charis, Tertius & Teutus Charis is formally introduced to her dominus. Lost and Found - Late April 74AD - Charis & Cynane Lost in Rome, Charis stumbles across a fellow Briton. Respite - Late April 74AD - Charis & Gaius Charis tells her story to an old Equite. In Dreams - Early May 74AD - Charis & Tertius In the garden, passion and tension flares between Charis and her dominus. Years Apart - Early May 74AD - Charis & Airs Charis chances across the interprex again. Carpe Diem - Early May 74AD - Charis, Cynane & Helios In the gardens, a drunk Charis is too loose with her words about her dominus. Garden Games - Mid May 74AD - Charis, Teutus & Antonia Spending time with fellow-slave Teutus and his half sister, their domina, Antonia. The Bridge is Crossed - Mid May 74AD - Charis & Tertius [M - S] Having found out about her gossip, Tertius punishes Charis and forces her into his bed. Under the Morning Sun - Mid May 74AD - Charis & Teutus The next morning, Charis reflects with Teutus. What goes around... - Early June 74AD - Charis, Alexius & Helios Charis confronts gossip Helios, and is saved by Alexius. Daggers After Dark - Mid June 74AD - Charis & Thessala Charis is attacked and injured, only to be saved by a Gladiatrix. The Show Must Go On - Mid June 74AD - Charis & Tertius Charis reveals her injuries to Tertius, who takes pity on her. Life is a Lemon - Late June 74AD - Charis & Cynane Charis and Cynane catch-up. Work and Play - Early July 74AD - Charis & Helenus Charis chances across a thermae slave. Special Treatment - Mid July July 74AD - Charis & Tertius Charis and Tertius reconnect and take their relationship further. New Beginnings? - Mid July 74AD - Charis, Teutus, Tertius & Hector Charis is informed of her new position, officially becoming Tertius' bed slave. Summer Showers - Late July 74AD - Charis & Rufus Charis runs into Rufus and spends the afternoon with him. Reginus Georgus - Late July 74AD - Charis & Hector Bitter and jealous, Hector needles Charis. Lost in the Moment - Early September 74AD - Charis & Alexius Charis reconnects with Alexius, who faces the sting of a slap. A Visit - Mid September 74AD - Charis & Alexius Charis apologises to Alexius. I'm not your errand boy - Early December 74AD - Charis & Teutus Charis and Teutus make up after their vicious argument. A Trojan and a Goddess - Early December 74AD - Charis & Aeneas Charis stumbles across a face from her past. A Proposal - Mid December 74AD - Charis, Tertius, Titus & Longinus Charis serves at a meal of her dominus' and finds out about her sister. About Time - Late December 74AD - Charis, Tertius, Teutus & Hector Charis witnesses Teutus' freedom ceremony. Festivities - Late December 74AD - Charis & Tertius Charis and Tertius celebrate Saturnalia. . seventy-five AD . Unhappy News - Late February 75AD - Charis Charis finds out she's pregnant. Agony Aunt - Late February 75AD - Charis & Cynane Alone and scared, Charis seeks advice from her friend. A Favour- Late February 75AD - Charis & Teutus Charis borrows money from Teutus for an abortion. Revelations - Late February 75AD - Charis & Tertius Tertius finds out Charis is pregnant after she botches her abortion. He imprisons her in her room and they argue. Broken Conversations - Early May 75AD - Charis & Tertius Charis, broken, submits to Tertius and they talk. Time for Miracles- Late May 75AD - Charis & Alexius Alexius tries to fix Charis. Awakening - Mid June 75AD - Charis Charis feels conflicted over her struggles. Blue Sky - Late June 75AD - Charis & Tertius Charis and Tertius reconnect as they discuss their child. Evening Shade - Late June 75AD - Charis & Gaius Charis meets a soldier in the Gardens of Sullust. The Equality of Man - Late June 75AD - Charis, Tertius, Teutus & Hector As an earthquake strikes rome, the domus is cast into chaos. No Boundaries - Early July 75AD - Charis & Cynane Charis finally reunites with her best friend after five months apart. Exotic Finds - Early July 75AD - Charis & Aia Charis meets Aia by chance. A New Beginning - Late August 75AD - Charis, Tertius & Cynane Charis gives birth to her child. God Help the Outcasts - Late June 75AD - Charis & Aglaea Charis commiserates with another Varus slave and learns a secret. Transformation - Late August 75AD - Charis, Tertius & Teutus Charis' child is recognised as freeborn. Just One Night - Mid December 75AD - Charis & Alexius Charis lets loose for one night. Wait!- Mid December 75AD - Charis & Teutus Immediately after her night with Alexius, Charis reconnects with Teutus after he discovers them. . seventy-six AD . Everything I Wanted- Mid January 76AD - Charis, Tertius & Wulfric Charis meets a new Varus family member as he comes to greet Tertius. Any way the wind blows- Mid January 76AD - Charis & Wulfric, Teutus and Tertius A dinner for the family goes wrong. I have something to say- Mid February 76AD - Charis & Tertius Charis brings up her suspicions of Wulfric to her domine. Following Up- Mid March 76AD - Charis & Wulfric Charis spies on Wulfric. What Comes Next - Late March 76AD - Charis & Tertius Charis updates Tertius on Wulfric It's All Fun and Games - Mid June 76AD - Charis & Tertius Charis attends a gladiator match with her dominus. I Just Called to Say - Late August 76AD - Charis & Varinia Charis meets a very important woman from the household past. Take a Chance on Me - Late August 76AD - Charis & Tertius Tertius proposes to Charis. . seventy-seven AD . Unexpected Arrival - Mid April 77AD - Charis, Tertius & Hilda Charis intervenes in a family (?) argument. (58) . current . How have we ended up here? - Late December 76AD - Charis & Teutus Now freed, Charis updates Teutus. Sacrifice and Stalemates - Early January 77AD - Charis & Tertius Charis and Tertius bless their marriage. Something New- Early January 77AD - Charis & Cynane Cynane hears Charis' news and it does not go well. No Idea - Early April 77AD - Charis & Aia A familiar face from her past crops up again. (4)

Zia rarely came out in the evenings to watch by her minions as they did their deals and made her gold, but needs must. The problem with having a lucrative business, she'd found, was that it meant everybody wanted a piece of it. Nothing had happened thus far, beyond a few gang low-lifes making offers to her own runners, but she wanted to keep an eye out and she wanted to see it for herself. Being here was a risk, she knew that, but the cloak she wore - even in the summer heat - hid the slave collar she was locked into and she kept her hood up. Gallus was - for all intents and purposes - the front man of the operation and only glanced in her direction where there was something she should see. In this case, it was a small man who seemed to be gesticulating to one of her young employees. Zia arched a brow and watched from the shadows as the conversation got more heated. She called over to Gallus; "Gang?" And the man shook his head, looking equally perplexed. If this young man was in a Collegia then he wasn't being particularly subtle about his intentions. She slipped from the shadows to get a closer look and frowned when she saw that the man wasn't talking. "What do you want?" She called out and gave him a once-over. "We don't do charity here, if you can't afford it then leave." TAG: @Chevi

January 76 AD The new year had brought about a slight increase in business, but it hadn't increased Artemon's meagre salary in the same proportion. Gallus only cared for his own purse, that's what he did, and Artemon grumbled under his breath in Egyptian as he flitted about the old warehouse, loading and unloading things here and there like a (badly) paid cargo mule. He had just put down his last crate and made a beeline for the water jug nearby when a figure came into his line of sight. That wasn't Gallus, or any of the other labourers he knew of. For one, none of them had such long hair. For two, none had such obviously feminine features either. Who was this lady? Had she entered the warehouse by accident, lost on her way to some other place? Artemon's first instinct was to greet her and ask her if she needed help, but Gallus wouldn't have approved of that. No, he was supposed to be serious and gruff so people knew not to mess with him! "What are you doing here? This is private property!" he parroted in his best stern tone, wiping his sweaty hands on his equally sweaty tunic. "You need to leave." @Sara

AU - 72CE - Dacia Zia slammed the door to her quarters so loud she was sure the wood would snap off and splinter. "Zia!" The voice beckoned from outside, booming through the wooden walls that made up the Chief's residence. "You have to listen to reason now girl." Zia huffed and kicked at a box that lay at her feet, aiming it at one of the slaves who squealed and jumped out of the way. From down the hall she could hear Luto cry. He hadn't stopped crying since she had broken the news that his Papa wasn't coming home. The handle to the door rattled and then the oak opened up and the face of her father-in-law, stony but sorrowful, loomed into view. "Get out of my room." She swore and aimed another kick - this time at a loose bundle of clothing - which landed at his feet. The man raised his hands, and she could see from few paces away that tears pricked in his eyes. Weak. Pathetic. Scared. Was all that came to mind as she looked upon him. "He's all we have. You have to see reason." She scoffed and shook her head, a glower on her face. "At least meet him with me. And then we can see, hm?" Zia huffed again and appraised her father-in-law Cothelas (or not her father-in-law, now?). She only nodded her assent, and it was reluctant assent at that before clicking her fingers at the slave. "Find me something to wear." Her father-in-law smiled, relieved and inclined his head - backing out of the room slowly. She noted he didn't turn his back to her as he walked away. Smart. --- It was some hours later that she was in the great hall. Those survivors of the battle two days prior were there; a motley court of the injured and the afraid; filling the room but leaving a gap in the middle. Zia was arrayed in her finest, gold glinting from her wrists and her armbands and a diadem atop her hair which was left long down to her waist. Her son sat next to her - between her father-in-law and herself, eyes still red raw from crying but mercifully quiet for now. She could tell Cothelas was nervous. He picked at the skin around his nails and his eyes were red-rimmed from tiredness. She supposed losing both of one's sons in one fell swoop was bound to do that. She dared not dwell on Diegis lest her face crumple. No, keep projecting strength, that was what she told herself. Somebody has to. The battle had been short and bloody. The Ratacenses, her husbands (late husbands) tribe were fearsome and well equipped, and had decimated the legion that had surrounded them. A winner could not be declared; they had both lost their commanders. The Dacian's had lost Diegis and his older brother, heir to the chieftaincy, and the Romans had lost their legate and tribune. The former of which had been sat stewing in a dank little hole for the past two days, but now he'd finally see the light and the Dacian's own particular brand of mercy. Many had called for his execution; something public, something painful. He had taken their hope in the form of the two heirs, and Zia had at least initially agreed. Yet Cothelas, in one of his rare moments of intelligence had held a different idea. Luto, her son, was now to be named the heir. He was, however, only four and utterly fatherless and frail in the way that all children that age are. Besides, Cothelas knew that the Romans would be back - braying for blood - and Luto would be first on the pile. Hence his simultaneously utterly ridiculous and utterly brilliant plan. What better way to appease the Romans than by aligning yourselves with them? And what better way to do that and keep your independence then by matrimony? Zia had been appalled, but understood. If she married this Roman and eventually had further children, they would be of both Roman and Dacian blood. Half-brothers and half-sisters to their future chief, and beholden to two lands. It would show that their tribe was serious about peace, but would not surrender in the traditional way. Yet despite the logic, she didn't like the idea one bit. Cothelas knew that as well as anybody and so had arranged, after a public greeting of the man (whose name Zia had already forgotten), there would be a private summit between his daughter-in-law and her future spouse to...test the waters, as it was. Her nails dug into the wood of the chair as she gripped onto it. The doors at the end of the hall broke open and the room was bathed in light. She squinted those narrowed green eyes at the figures that approached, a man bound in rope at the wrists, escorted by two of the surviving (and purposefully largest) Dacian warriors. She turned to Cothelas when the Roman was in earshot and scoffed. "This is him?" TAG: @Liv

Spring, 67 CE , Cumidava, Dacia Sometimes… he wondered. He wondered if his cousin did these things simply to annoy him and make his life more difficult. Of course, she didn’t. He knew that. But he also knew that she would fully realize how her headstrong and impetuous decisions so often wreaked havoc on his own affairs, and that Zia wouldn’t give a toss that they did. That was so her. An idea came into her head and it must be done, immediately. Tarbus wondered if age would ever soften her sharp edges, or bring wisdom to sit more easily with impulse. He seriously doubted that it would. Yet one should never give up hope. The days stretched long here, in Cumidava, and sat uneasily upon his shoulders. Nights were longer still, without the comforts – both of the body and the mind – that his sweet Docia brought to him so willingly and tenderly. He missed her. He missed their son, Duras, who had taken his first steps only weeks before this petulant move of his cousin. They passed word back and forth, regularly. And the distance between them was not great. But it felt like he might have passed into some other world, sequestered here to the north, forced into segregation by Zia’s wounded pride. Yet another night was already well on its way to claiming the clear sky above. Soon Bendis would begin her ascent, and her path would sparkle with stars in the high vault of the heavens. Inside the homes of the village, behind wattle and daub walls and under snug thatched roofs, oil lamps would be lit, before families readied to retire and sleep. Wooden shutters and doors would be closed against the lingering chill of late spring, and the fire pits would be carefully tended to make sure warmth lasted through the dark hours. Having seen to his horse already, Tarbus sighed inwardly and squared his already square shoulders, before pushing aside the leather flap that added an extra layer of insulation at the doorway. Four skinned and gutted hares he carried in one hand, tied by their feet with twine. In his other dully gleamed his knife, clean yet in need of sharpening, which he intend to do before he slept. Stepping inside he smelled meat roasted on a spit and other fare, seasoned with local herbs, such as dill, parsley, celery leaf, lovage and thyme. Salt mines right in the area provided an abundance of that precious commodity for all. He nodded at a servant who came forward to relieve him of the hares, asking, “Is your mistress returned?” With Zia, there was never any telling where she might be, or what she might be about, although nine times out of ten, the answer to both might be ‘making mischief, somehow.’

August, 75AD Zia leaned against the wall of an inn - half demolished by the earthquake and utterly unfixed. It had to be two, perhaps three in the morning and she stifled a yawn - green eyes hawkishly watching the passing trade. She didn't dally with the job herself, and preferred to keep a watching brief - back to the wall and picking up the names and mannerisms of clients that came back again and again, or brought their friends. She left the heavy lifting to Gallus who had a particular way about him which kept the poor in his thrall and the rich who frequented this part of the city for vice and depravity, intrigued. She smirked to herself and stifled another yawn - her bloodshot eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments. The scheme had started some months prior. It had been luck and chance more than anything, although in years to come she'd claim it was a visionary idea she'd been harbouring for a while. She left the house most nights now. Her nightmares, which had started almost immediately after her capture last year and the ordeal she had been subjected to at the hands (and cocks) of the legion had disturbed her sleep and ever since that irritating run-in with the master of the house past midnight, she had sought solace and to calm herself down out of the house. So every night, pretty much, she slipped out of the slave entrance and into the dark of the city. She had smelled it before she saw it and heard the chatter of her mother tongue down by the Tiber. Back in Dacia, the flower1 was largely only smoked or inhaled by their priestly class, but as the wife to a future chieftain she had held her own plentiful supply. She missed it, and the smell had brought her right back. She was not a friendly woman by nature, but she had made an exception for this lot and before the week was through it had been her little ritual to meet them down by the river to share the smoke of the flower and relax. Her mood had improved immeasurably, and it had only helped her see a way out of all of this mess. She smirked to herself now at the memory. That had been three months ago. In that time, those friends had long since departed this world or Rome - she didn't care to know which, and their supplier - a foolish man that liked a fuck more than he liked his money, had readily admitted his own source of the flower before he'd even climaxed. Men were too easy. He too was currently whereabouts unknown (many thanks to his once-employee, Gallus). Once she'd got the name and understood the distribution network he'd set up (the man was a fool), Zia had swooped. She'd employed Gallus on credit, the man also liked a fuck but he was canny and could respect intelligence and drive when he saw it. He had been the fools, but equally couldn't stand him. He came willingly to her venture, she hastened to add. Over the last three months they had successfully, together, taken over the distribution of the flower in Regio IV, carved out a little corner of a warehouse near the spice markets to store their stash and made a decent few coins. The first few always went to Gallus to pay off the credit she had endured to take him with her, but the rest was hers - and in the future they had agreed a 65-35 split, Zia to Gallus, once the debts were settled and the runners paid. She smirked again as she leant against the wall. She never used her name, but should anybody in the city be looking for that sweet, calming high they knew where to come. Gallus the Great, would show them a good time. Nobody knew her, and that was the way she liked it. She lurked in the shadows for now, reaping the rewards of her ingenuity, and when the time was right? Well. She couldn't wait to see the look on her dominus' face. - FIN 1Marijuana

Early May, 74CE Zia grinned at her son, holding his hand firmly but letting his little legs wander as he took in the sights and the smells of the military camp. To a child, what had happened and where they were now was some great, drawn out adventure. To Luto's four year old mind there was nothing sinister in all the men in their red cloaks, nothing malevolent in the tent in which they were hurriedly stored in with all of the other women and children. His big brown eyes took it all in as if he were living one of the great tales of heroism his father and grandfathers had told him. Little Luto even went so far as to wave at a few of the passing legionaries as they were escorted through the maze of straight lines to, what she presumed, was the commander's tent. Her smile was in part for the energy of her son, but also for the thought he'd be sleeping in a tent like the rest of them during this very uncharacteristic May rain which drizzled down on them, soaking man and woman alike to the bone. She'd not told anybody who she was since her arrival in this place, but presumed somebody else had spilled the beans. Probably Diegis, the idiot. She had considered it safer to be an anonymous woman and boy caught up in the chaos of the skirmish than one of its architects. That anonymity, clearly, was not to last. She'd not seen her husband since he was bundled away under a swathe of red cloaked men in stupid helmets, but she knew he'd seen his father and brothers fates. A small part of her ignited at the thought that it left him as the chief, a bigger part hoped he wouldn't prattle on about it too much. She'd heard rumours about what had happened to the chieftains of occupied provinces; paraded through the streets of Rome in chains. She hoped her husband had more sense than to prattle on about his family. Finally drawing to the tent she cast a dismissive glance over it, her nose wrinkling in displeasure. This was where the great and the good of Rome lived? She was a little horrified. Shunted through the flaps, her hand still clasping her sons, she blinked into the dim light. It was barely dawn outside, and the candles that lit up the canvas made it smoky and hard to see. She didn't recognise the man sat in front of her, but then they all looked the same in their silly little outfits to her. Luto, however, unfettered grinned at him and pointed at the crested helmet set aside, beaming whilst he asked in Dacian; "Can I play with it?" Zia yanked back his arm as he moved to touch it and reminded herself to drill some sense into her boy at the next opportune moment. She said nothing to the man and instead just arched a brow, waiting for his big speech. TAG: @Liv