roma-invicti:
Ugly pride swelled in his chest to hear that Antonio adored him so. It was not that Romulus was blind to it; in fact, he was well aware, and fed from it. But to hear Francis voice that fact was enough to bring a glow of youth back into the old man. His hand slipped from his son’s shoulder, only to take up his hand and pull him forward. “I’ll always lead the way!” he boasted. Romulus turned a blind eye to Francis’ fatigue in favor of marching down the cobbled streets.
“Then we shall go, and collect ourselves a basket of spoils to set out by the Tiber riverbank! It will be wonderful! And, relaxing I suppose. You are in luck, as the Forum is actually quite close.” Although, the definition of “close” was certainly different to a man whose primary transportation was walking. And so Francis was pulled along by the hand, not unlike a child, through the Servian Wall in the direction of Tiber Island. Everything that was familiar to Romulus felt like music. The scraping of ox hooves, the panting of cisium drivers, even the distant complaints about carriage wheels stuck in the grooves in the street. Early summer sun, the cry of insects. A soft breeze not yet permeated by decades of modern vehicle exhaust.
As much as Romulus wanted to ignore Francis’ sudden fatigue, he couldn’t help but notice the resistance to his excited pace. Romulus slowed his step, looking back at his son. “Are you well?” he asked. “Can you not manage a walk? Should I wave down a cisium?” There was an unintended disappointment in his voice.
All roads lead to Rome. That was it, wasn’t it? Of course he’s be quick to lead the way… Francis had to swallow down whatever bitter feeling he had suddenly as his hand was grabbed, yanking him along after. He should have expected as such.
It had been so long since he had seen such scenery, an almost familiar feeling hitting him. Well over a thousand years and scenery like this could still wash him over with old, buried feelings. He was just so… Conflicted. But he couldn’t let it show, or… Perhaps he didn’t want it to, not even his exhaustion. Trailing after him, Francis eyes flitted around, taking in everything that passed them. Sure it was.. Odd. Perhaps a slightly terrible feeling deep down as well, but it was partnered with something almost nostalgic. It had been years and years since he even thought about the Roman Empire, but to suddenly be back? It was almost overwhelming.
“I am fine.” His reply was quick, sharp. He caught that disappointed sound in the old mans voice, feeling something bitter building up in his stomach again and burn in his chest. As much as he despised the other, how did the thought of him being disappointed in him bring such a disgusting feeling from him?
He just wanted to be praised. Praise was always… Lacking from Romulus, after all. To Francis at least. But that’s what happens when you’re on the bottom of the list after all, right…? “Of course I can walk. I have had a long day is all, but I can manage a walk. I am not a child anymore— Just keep leading the way.” There was a venom to his tone, feeling it seep in with each word he spoke, picking up his pace with the other in retort, “I am as capable as anyone else, you know.”
Romulus was seemingly immune to Francis’ apparent disgust. Somehow he felt, that, if Francis could use that hatred productively, Francis might be half as powerful as he one day! Realistically, Romulus could not imagine such a thing. But. . . it was nice to think about.
“A long day? But it is hardly noon!” he chided. “Though, if you insist.”
Francis stormed forward at his own pace, driven by anger. Romulus sighed, relenting to stay a few steps behind. “You do know where you are going, don’t you?” he asked. Frankly it was a direct path from here, but Romulus did not want to have to embarrass Francis should he take a wrong turn. “You know I’m only looking out for you, don’t you?” he asked. This was his attempt at making an effort. Effort to what? Be soft and kind and stoop to Francis’s level? No, stoop was the wrong idea. Perhaps, bend? Somehow it still gave Romulus the wrong impression. However he chose to word it, it was still lowering himself. Somehow. Romulus walked in silence, chewing over his internal dialogue. Finally he reached forward again, calloused hand rubbing the back of Francis’ neck. Perhaps not the most gentle gesture when two full-grown adults were walking at breakneck speed.
“You will always be a child to me, Francis. You are, after all, my child. Is it not so?” Roma smiled. “What’s on your mind? Are you not pleased to see me? Is it just fatigue of hunger that’s made you act this way?”
