LUCIUS

Many days drifted by, rushing past yet dragging on. Each day was a painful reminder of what was lost, and Lucius found himself reminiscing more about what once was because a part of him did not want to face what would come.

Was he a coward?

He didn't know the right answers to that.

His feet ached with each step he took, and the ropes on his wrists seared his flesh, his stomach had long turned tight, his mouth would always be dry, and he had witnessed considerable amounts of mistreatments his countrymen faced by the hands of the barbarians. He believed a part of him—the soldier within him—would understand why his spirit had begun to bend and crumble. But that part had gone silent, replaced with just a man. A worried man.

It had been three days, he counted, since they left the dense, shadowed confines of the Teutoburg Forest, trekking across the Germanic lands of wooded hills and lowlands. They would reach the barbarian's village any day. At times he wished for it to happen fast only so he could lay down and rest properly, for he had never experienced exhaustion such as this.

Baldric had stayed... lenient, and generous, toward him, and allowed him time to move elsewhere during the trek. It was then he had gotten to know the names of two of the Roman soldiers; Servius and Derminus. Neither man belonged to his Legio. They hadn't spoken much either, but only a few words in Latin they sneaked when the barbarians weren't looking in their direction. This familiarity brought him some comfort. However, this comfort didn't last long.

Two days ago, Edgar, Servius' owner, caught them whispering in Latin. He dragged Servius aside and reprimanded him harshly. Derminus fared far worse—his owner, Herman, turned the punishment into a public spectacle, beating the helpless man while the others watched and laughed.

When his fellow countrymen were scolded, Lucius braced himself for a similar fate. But when Baldric confronted him, the yellow-haired barbarian only asked what had been said. Lucius answered truthfully, that they had only spoken things that held no substance. Baldric listened, his expression unreadable, then simply warned Lucius to avoid speaking Latin again. There was no scolding, no beating. Instead, Baldric kept him close, forbidding him from mingling with the others.

This had left him confused.

He despised the barbarians with every bone in his body—his hatred grew every day he spent with them, and yet... he found it harder to summon the same hatred for Baldric. Something about the man fought his loathing, though Lucius could not yet understand what.

Could it be because Baldric's temperament was not as thin as ice as the others?

He didn't know.

There was still much to understand about this foreign land and its barbaric, wicked people.

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The chill air bit at Lucius' skin, sending shivers down his spine as he trembled from head to toe. His lips had long since turned pale and chapped, dark shadows encircled his eyes, and his steps had grown slower and more unsteady.

Like the days before, they were trekking the lowlands. He walked behind Hrafn—his wrists tied to a long rope attached to the horse. Baldric led the trail with his brother beside him.

They had been on the move since dawn and hadn't stopped for rest. From time to time, Lucius' skin would prickle with the feeling of being watched. When his gaze shifted to Odinolf, his intuition was confirmed. The barbarian's eyes were fixed on him with disdain, and Lucius quickly looked away. He needed to be weary of Odinolf.

"It is good you decided we not stop for rest tonight, we should be home come morning," Odinolf said to Baldric, but loud enough for the others to hear.

"You sound so sure of yourself, Odinolf," Tobias chimed in from beside Lucius. "The thralls keep slowing us down—especially Herman's thrall. At this point we might not make it back until winter," he laughed.

Most of the barbarians walked, as there weren't enough horses for them all. But it was true that the captives were the ones slowing the trek.

Lucius had gotten to know the names of the few who had spoken to Baldric, though none paid him any attention except for Odinolf. There was one name, Fredric, Tobias's father and an old fool whose tongue only sprew bitterness about the Romans. He seemed to enjoy the talks of war. There was Herman, who had a loud mouth and laughed at strange jokes. He took Derminus. Then there was Tobias, who was about Lucius' age—lanky for a barbarian, and joked a lot. Finally, he knew Edgar, he was the barbarian who took Servius as a slave and seemed to be close friends with Baldric. Closer than the others, but not as close as Odinolf.

"What's wrong with Herman' thrall?" Baldric grumbled.

Lucius quickly looked up at the familiar voice, but Baldric didn't look over his shoulder.

Tobias shrugged. "Too weak I supposed. The Roman can't walk. I think he's gotten sick."

"If he keeps slowing us down, we should just put him out of his misery," Odinolf said.

"We should. The thrall is making us all fall behind," Tobias added.

Lucius went tensed. When Tobias turned to him with a soft smile, he gritted his teeth and looked down. One day he would make them pay, he promised himself. One day, but not today.

He listened to the barbarians with his head lowered as they continued to talk of many things—of what they planned to do when they arrived home, of all that was needed to be done, and of an upcoming festival of snow and ice that they seemed eager for. He hoped it would be enough to distract them from the fact they were walking slower than they had minutes ago, but when Fredric rode up from behind—a grim, displeased look on his face—Lucius knew it was only a matter of seconds before they noticed.

"Herman's fallen behind—won't listen to kill the damn thrall," Fredric growled, his displeasure clear in his voice before he turned his horse back around and took off.

Odinolf tsked. "Didn't I tell you, brother? Enough is enough."

Baldric's jaw went tight before he stopped Hrafn with a light nudge. He raised a hand to usher the others to move ahead, while Odinolf and Tobias stayed with him.

Lucius' attention immediately went to the barbarian, but Baldric paid him no mind. His heart raced and suddenly it was hard to breathe. He knew something terrible was about to happen—he knew Derminus' life was in danger. But he was helpless to do anything.

The quiet exchange between Baldric and Odinolf confirmed his fears. The brothers spoke in low voices amongst themselves, and then Odinolf swung down from his horse with a growl, the sound more beast than man, pulling an axe from his belt.

Lucius felt his stomach twist.

As Odinolf passed by, the barbarian's frown deepened, his sharp eyes narrowing on Lucius for just a moment before turning away. Lucius' back prickled with goosebumps. There was always hatred in Odinolf's eyes, but there was also something else... something similar to the way Gaius would look at him. Maybe he might've imagined it all... maybe.

His focus shifted to the end of the line. There, Derminus lay crumpled on the ground. His body was frail and trembling, the strength of a Roman soldier stripped away. Herman loomed over him, barking commands and stomping on his back to force him upright, but Derminus only curled into himself, weak and broken.

No, sat on Lucius' lips.

He wanted to do something—he needed to do something. But that would be a foolish decision, and he never thought of himself as a foolish man.

It happened so fast afterward.

Odinolf reached the end of the trail, and Herman stepped aside without a word. For a fleeting moment, there was stillness. Then, in the blink of an eye, Odinolf raised his axe high and brought it down. The sickening thud echoed through the forest, and Lucius' eyes widened as Derminus' head rolled across the dirt. The lifeless body slumped to the ground, and the barbarians who stayed back or passed by laughed.

Lucius felt bile rise in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He clenched his fists, the ropes digging into his wrists as he forced himself to stand still. He burned with anger, grief, and guilt, the emotions twisting together into a storm he couldn't contain.

When Odinolf returned and passed by him, Lucius didn't know what possessed him, but he stepped forward and yelled in Latin, "Barbare, filius scorti!"

The air went still again with a few shocked and amused eyes on him.

Odinolf immediately stopped and slowly turned.

Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything.

Lucius cautiously took a step back.

"What did you say, houndling?" Odinolf bit out, his jaw was tight and his eyes were deadly. "Say it to my face!"

"I—" He quickly turned to look at Baldric, as if the barbarian might show him a shred of mercy. But Baldric's expression was anything but merciful. "Forgive me. I didn't mean—"

Odinolf reached out and snatched him by the hair—his fingers twisted and Lucius bit back a wince "I should cut out your tongue, Roman," Odinolf snarled. He pressed the bloodied blade of his axe against Lucius' face, the cold steel biting into his skin. "What use has he for words, eh, brother?" he growled, glancing at Baldric with a wicked glint in his eye. "Shall I take it?"

Lucius' breathing went fast and his lips trembled when his own blood dripped down his face. Odinolf had cut him, yet, he refused to show weakness.

"No," Baldric ordered. "Let him go."

Baldric had dismounted Hrafn. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and unyielding. Yet... he didn't look like a man prepared to spare Lucius—he looked furious, maddening, even. It was worse than when Lucius first saw the barbarian in the forest during the battle.

He held his breath and lowered his gaze; his stomach coiled with dread. Surely, he had done it this time, and surely he would suffer for it. But how great would the punishment be?

"Your thrall needs training, Baldric" Tobias snickered in a playful tone from the corner, but no one paid him any mind.

Rage twisted on Odinolf's face, and his fingers tightened. Lucius didn't try to pull away, though. When his eyes caught the barbarian, Odinolf leaned closer and snarled lowly, "Your days are numbered, Roman houndling," before he released him and moved away for Baldric.

Lucius let loose a shuddering breath when Baldric approached. A pled for forgiveness rested at the tip of his tongue—an obligation to not embarrass the older man. However, before the words could leave his mouth, Baldric's powerful hand stuck him hard across the face with a force that left him reeling. His knees threatened to buckle, but he steadied himself, eyes wide with unshed tears, though his jaw turned tight. When his burning eyes went back to Baldric, the barbarian struck him once more. This time, the force sent Lucius staggering back. His legs gave way, and he crumpled to the ground in shock. His lips trembled.

"Did I not tell you not to speak the Roman language?" Baldric questioned as he loomed above him, his eyes dark and tone emotionless. "What did you just say?"

Lucius lowered his head. His chest ached more than his cheek.

"I—" He choked on his words. He thought Baldric was different... he seemed he might've misjudged. After all, he was just a slave, property—a thing more worthless than livestock for the barbarians. "I cursed him," he admitted.

Odinolf sneered from the side, "Why you—"

"Leave him be, brother," Baldric interrupted, holding back his younger brother from attacking Lucius. "He's just foolish. But he will learn in time."

"I'm sorry, Baldric," Lucius said, refusing to look up. "Forgive me."

"It's not me you should be asking for forgiveness from," Baldric said.

"He carries too much defiance," Odinolf bit out, calmer this time, but his furious eyes never left Lucius. "Give him to me for a week when we return, brother—I'll teach this wayward Roman lessons you seem unwilling to."

Then, a swarm of hushed whispers flooded amongst the barbarians.

This seemed to anger Baldric. Ignoring Lucius entirely, Baldric turned to Odinolf, his expression hard as stone. "Are you saying I'm not capable of handling my thrall?"

Odinolf stayed silent for a moment before he huffed. "That's not what I meant, brother."

"Then return to your horse and continue leading the trail. I'll take care of what is mine" Baldric ordered, his command final. "And let the others know that we will rest at dawn."

Odinolf's voice rose in protest, "Did you not say we'd walk through the night?"

Baldric turned to Lucius on the ground, his irritation clear on his face. "I did. But I've changed my mind."

Odinolf's mouth twitched once or twice as if to say something, but in the end, he turned and left; Tobias following after.

Soon, all the others were gone, and the only ones who remained behind were Lucius, Baldric, and Derminus' headless body in a short distance.

The seconds folded in on themselves. He could feel Baldric's piercing gaze on him—it sent goosebumps down his back. He thought of saying something, but he figured it was better to keep quiet. Slowly, Lucius glanced up with somber eyes, only to be greeted by angered ones.

"Get up," Baldric finally ordered.

Lucius quickly did as told; he staggered to his feet.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Roman and we haven't reached home yet," Baldric said.

"I should've bit my tongue. I'm sorry."

"Anyone else would've killed you already."

Lucius' eyes dropped. "And for that I thank you."

Lucius dreaded every second the sudden silence passed between the two of them. He dared to look up at the broadening barbarian—towering above him in a way no man never did—and he swallowed thickly. Baldric studied him... and then he sighed and turned. "You will walk faster we we can catch up with the other, is that clear?" He said with his back turned at he approached Hrafn.

"I—" Lucius let loose a breath he didn't know he'd been holding into. "Yes."

"And I don't want any more trouble from you, my patience is wearing thin."

He quickly nodded, "I understand."

When Lucius looked down, he realized his fingers were trembling.

He knew that as a slave he had done wrong. But it was hard to stand idle and do nothing when his countrymen were getting slaughtered and mistreated. It was easy to tell himself he wouldn't act upon it, but it was difficult to do. However, if he was to survive and escape, he mustn't act upon impulse again. He would think before, and become an obedient slave to the barbarian, but he would do so to escape. Then he would return with the might of the Roman army at his back and exact vengeance.

Rome would not forget what had been done to her sons. And when that day came, he would see every last one of these barbarians slaughtered for their crimes.

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BALDRIC

The Roman tightly squeezed his eyes shut, trying with great difficulty not to flinch whenever Baldric pressed the wet cloth deeper into the open wound where Odinolf's axe sliced through. Lucius tried to put on a brave face, but there was no doubt that fear and uncertainty lingered in him from the way his body tensed from their closeness.

Since he had stuck the Roman earlier, Lucius had been weary of him once more. He should've preferred it this way—he didn't need Lucius becoming disobedient, especially not in the eyes of others when he was to become Chieftain for his people. But he didn't want a shell of a man, either.

Baldric sighed and released Lucius from his grip. He watched the Roman's shoulders slumped, and the tension slowly died from him, and he wondered if he was making the right decision to keep him. He could get another one. A woman would be better to take care of a child. But he couldn't bring himself to replace Freya with another woman.

It was late into the night when all had long gone to sleep except for Fredric, and three others who were in charge to keep watch. Otherwise, silence consumed the air. They stopped in a clearing; the men spread out in the large space. Baldric had taken Lucius and tied his wrists behind his back and ankles with rope in case the Roman thought of escaping, which would be foolish and a mistake if he did. He kept Lucius next to him and Hrafn.

He didn't expect the Roman to react the way he did earlier; he didn't appreciate it when he argued with Odinolf, either.

Odinolf wasn't pleased, and Baldric didn't blame him. He favored a thrall over his brother. It was unacceptable, yet the thought didn't affect him as it should. His brother had told him that he had forgotten what the Romans had done to their people, but he had not.

If it was another thrall, he would've killed him then and there. But there was something about this Roman that intrigued him. Something about the way his eyes spoke of words that his lips failed to say. He had no words for what it was, but when Lucius had not looked at him so—with his somber, pleading eyes earlier, it would've ended differently.

A sniffle from the Roman snapped him out of his thoughts, and when his attention drifted toward Lucius, the younger man was already lying on the ground on his side, seemingly uncomfortable from the binds.

Was he crying? He couldn't see Lucius' face from the dark.

Baldric frowned when another sniffle escaped Lucius' lips.

"Are you crying, Roman?" He asked, baffled. It was strange for a soldier to cry. It was strange for a man to cry.

Lucius went tense again before he curled in on himself. "No," he replied. Baldric was about to answer his lie, but then Lucius added, "The cold air. I'm not accustomed to it."

Baldric hummed. "I see."

He reached for his wolf's pelt around his shoulder and draped it over Lucius' body. He watched, pleased when the Roman relaxed from the warmth minutes later.

"What—" Lucius started but quickly cut himself off.

Baldric shifted from where he sat, facing the Roman thrall. "Speak your mind, Roman."

Lucius looked over his shoulder; his eyes were droopy and swollen. He looked small in comparison to what he had looked like in battle. But Baldric knew it was nothing other than a disguise. The Roman was a killer like himself. He was a soldier—a great one. But he was also hungry, defeated, and exhausted. He couldn't run even if there weren't any binds to hold him.

Lucius studied his face for a moment before he said, "During the battle, what did you mean when you said, 'Why do you look at me so?' I don't understand."

Baldric's jaw went tight. "You remember?"

Lucius hesitantly nodded. "It lingers in my mind from time to time. Why did you speak those words?"

Now that he knew the Roman was a man who sought the company of other men, the words weighed heavier in his mind. Why had he said those words? Perhaps it made sense now—why his resolve softened, why he showed the Roman mercy. Lucius had ensnared him, not with force or might, but with a charm that bewitched him, much like a woman might ensnare a man. Maybe he should kill him before his strange pull for the Roman grew stronger; before his resolve broke completely.

His hand twitched at the thought of ending it all, but something within him recoiled.

Perhaps he only imagined it all, and this pull was simply nothing at all.

"Your eyes were begging like a woman," he said.

Lucius frowned. "Begging? What do you mean?"

Baldric's jaw clenched and he looked elsewhere. "Don't play coy. You know exactly what I mean. Your eyes," he growled, "they speak when your mouth stays silent." Lucius's frown deepened. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Baldric continued, "You may not have begged with words, but you begged with your eyes. You wanted me to take you, Roman—" When at the altar you begged again with your eyes I could not resist, he didn't say.

Lucius met his gaze, unflinching. "You see what you wish to see," he said quietly. "I would never beg to be a slave. If that was how you saw it, you should've put the blade to my throat then."

There it was again—the defiance blazing in the Roman's eyes, burning as fiercely as the flames of Valhalla's halls.

"Perhaps I should've," Baldric said, his voice low and dangerous. "And maybe I still will if you continue to defy me."

Lucius said nothing, but his body tightened.