Thread: The Concubine     (Fanatic/Nika)

The young woman looked up, meeting Atticus' eyes for a drawn out moment. They sparked bright blue in the candlelight, but in their depth could be seen that crushing sorrow as the Roman woman fully realized to whom she was speaking. Yes, she knew that name. It was whispered with relish even within the white-washed walls of Vesta's temple. It was roared with veneration from the capital's steps, sang with love by honeyed tongues of bards, and spoken ever with praise upon the Emperor's lips. The house of Scippio had a mythos surrounding it, ever since it's descendants became famed for saving Rome from invasions on it's eastern boarders, annexing territories, and suppressing revolts in the more unwieldy of conquered states. Now Atticus Scippio, Hero of Rome, advanced in his campaigns in the North into land that no Roman had dared to disturb before him. Atticus Lupis Scippio. The Wolf of the Legions. She had heard that title spoken, but she did not wish to believe this man was that great war-hero himself. Alicia had attended one of his many parades the emperor held for him during the return of one of the General's victories. He must have been young then, for she was only a girl. It had been a large spectacle followed by extravagant games for weeks on end. There were less favorable rumors that did not support the garish fanfare of the state that their great General was a beast in war, ruthless and savage, and that Rome could not reign in such bloodlust, and so their champion left them for more worthy challenge. More worthy prey. Although he did not live within his Roman estate, it was well-known that his family coffers were vast largely spoils of war, but also gifts from admirers, friends and even kings abroad that understood the value of saluting such power. He often supplemented Rome's own coffers in times of hardship, providing bread for Rome's people. It was a hushed, yet well established that the great General had more support, and more of the people's love, than the emperor himself. What struck her most, was the one rumor that had long since endeared the Great Wolf to her own heart. The Sicppio heir had also been awarded many laurels and asked repeatedly to join as consul of Rome, but he had refused them just as many times. It was this that allowed her to believe that not all of Rome's conquests were only bloodshed and guilt upon Rome's name, not if men of such pure heart led her legions. She had believed that he knew of the corruption within the senate, the extravagance of Rome's emperor and refused on personal ethic to participate in such a thing. She must have been young and foolish to think that ethic played any part in war. Perhaps he did prefer not to dirty himself with political filth, bribes for allies, or censorship, but instead decisively took upon himself the brunt of Rome's campaigns. It was clear to her now that there was none of Rome's laws that held out on the frontier. Here, he was surrounded by men who loved him, prayed on his name, and swore their lives to him. Here he controlled legions, held real power. Here this man was above the law, blessed or cursed as he was, above the Gods themselves if he wished. Her fists clenched beneath the table and upon her lap. Here, his word was law. She was suddenly parched. Tearing her eyes away and swallowing a sip of wine thickly, Alicia found her voice, Yes Yes, I know of you, I just did not believe-- She caught herself. Perhaps he would take it as an offense that she had not believed that he could be Rome's Great Wolf. In all of her days she could not have imagined sitting beside such a man. Had she been told, she would have been expecting a deity. You have not returned to Rome for six years, She murmured quietly, remembering the last time she saw the shadow of the hero ride into Rome on horseback, You are sorely missed by your people. Raising her head, she glanced slowly once more around the tent, taking in the rough way of living, by roman standards. Was this to be her life? Within these walls, nothing but a exquisite trophy for the most beloved of Rome's protectors? Another of his many conquests. Alicia took in a breath, and though she was clad only in the thinnest strands of silk, she held her back as straight and her shoulders as level as any of the men that had ever sat beside his elbow. Her tongue perhaps, was not as controlled, Why do you remain here, on the frontier? No doubt you long for home. And the barbarians There was a glint in her eyes as she met his, I have heard tale of them. They are strong men, men of the frost and biting winds, and they pick at the scabs of your forces until you bleed, hiding in the shadows like animals, striking hard and fast and then falling back into the night. Come the dawn you count your loses and sow the earth with your dead. She said nothing of his great achievements, still looking into his eyes, In this godforsaken land the cold seeps deep into the bones and the rain makes way only for the stinging bite of the north-wind. Rome loses brave men to common ills like foot rot and frostbite, and enemy war parties raid along the frontier at will, Tilting a slender neck, and turning a dainty jaw from him, she looked over the extravagant food. Her teeth flashed white as she picked up a berry and bit into it, This war is savage. It is no place for a woman.