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Being a Pict spy and falling in love with Virilus would involve...

Titus Flavius Virilus x reader (moodboard)

Probably the first and only Centurion (2010) fic on Tumblr! I can't help it, Dominic West is so handsome in this movie!

*****

🗡️ The conquest of Britain has reached a stalemate, Roman and Pict forces facing each other in an endless series of skirmishes and ambushes that can't tip the balance towards one side or the other. The morale is low, even in the Ninth Legion, and Virilus spends more than a sleepless night fearing that no matter how brave and loyal his men are, none of them will ever leave Britain and return home - which fills him with guilt, not for himself but rather for the many men who trust him with their life and look at him for leadership and victory.

🗡️ Then, one night, after he has already retired to his tent, he is told someone came to see him; he expects a messenger or an envoy of governor Agricola, and instead he finds himself face to face with you, a Briton woman who quickly bows in front of him. "I mean you no harm, my lord." you say, speaking in a comprehensible latin "I only ask you to listen to me; I offer you the opportunity to kill Gorlacon and destroy the Briton people once and for all."

🗡️ It is quickly clear to Virilus that you are a spy, willing to betray her people and ally herself with those she should hate and oppose - something that he has already seen, and does not trust. You ask for gold in exchange for your help, which was to be expected... and that is why the general finds himself doubting greed is the -only? Or real?- reason you are turning your back to what you should hold dear.

🗡️ "Why are you doing this? Have you been cast out by your people, and swore revenge? Or did another tribe pay you to betray Gorlacon?" he asks, and he sees you stiffen, still kneeling in front of him, as if his questions touched an issue that you would rather keep for yourself. "That is not for you to know, my lord." you answer, polite but firm "If you wish, I will leave and you will never see me again; but if you want to give me a chance to prove myself, I can promise you will not regret it."

🗡️ Virilus is not in the habit of trusting those he does not know well, especially since he has no reason to think you are not been sent by Gorlacon himself to lure him and his men in a trap; even if you claim to know all about the Briton leader's strategies and weaknesses, the last thing he should do is rely on you, when you might very well have been sent by his sworn enemy himself as a talking, walking weapon.

🗡️ The safest thing would be to put you to death and forget the whole matter; still, Virilus finds himself hesitating. Spies are occasionally useful, every commander knows it, and it cannot be denied that with the whole expedition in Britain being at an impasse, unless something tips the scale in favour of the Roman forces, the Ninth Legion could remain there for the next century, without ever achieving victory; you might be exactly what they need to break the stalemate and force the tribes to accept the Empire's dominion over Britain... which means, primarily, destroy Gorlacon. On the other hand, it would be unwise to let an enemy into their midst, considering she could slaughter them in their sleep at best... and open the doors of the fort to Gorlacon's forces at worst.

🗡️ "I know you have no reason to trust me, my lord; quite the opposite." you admit in the end, standing; you have remained silent as the man in front of you reflected on your proposal, finding yourself unexpectedly curious. Not being a warrior, the only Romans you have ever seen are the prisoners Gorlacon and his men occasionally brought to your village, but this man is different: not a fire-breathing demon as the stories the children of your people are told to caution them against leaving the safety of the village, but a man not unlike those you have grown up with, strong and imposing even when unarmed and not wearing his armor, but in his dark eyes you can see cleverness, and cunning, and the capacity for both bravery and ruthlessness. According to what the warriors told you about Virilus, his troops are completely, almost fanatically loyal to him, which is proof of his value: any officer or commander can lead through force and fear, but it takes an exceptional man, your father once told you, to do it with love. "And I could swear on my life, and on my Gods and on everything I hold dear, that I am telling the truth, and it would mean nothing to you. But there is something you can trust, and it is my hate. I... I despise Gorlacon with every fibre of my being; I would gladly damn my soul to make sure he suffers even just a tenth of what he put me through. He... he hurt me; I will not tell you how or why, now or ever; but this I can swear, I would gladly butcher every Briton on this island, children included, if it meant making him pay. I have nothing left to live for, but vengeance. I do not really care for gold, or for protection, or for anything you may have to offer; bring me his head, and I will never want for anything else. Promise me you will kill him, and I will gladly put my life in your hands."

🗡️ You have spoken more than you had intended to -what is so special about this man you have just met, you wonder, that compels you to share, if not the reasons behind your betrayal, the pain and the rage that have taken over your heart?- but you have only a moment to regret your loquaciousness before your gaze meets that of the man in front of you, still busy evaluating you; you thought you were now beyond fear, but the strength in his dark eyes, his potential for courage and nobility as well as relentlessness and brutality, is enough to make you tremble.

🗡️ "If I so much suspect you are less than sincere, I will slaughter you with my own hands." he says in the end; you do not know whether he is speaking slowly to help you understand or to hempasize the intention behind his words, but one thing is certain: not only he is not making empty threats, but he would be ready to make good on his promise without a moment of hesitation "If there is something I hate more than traitors, it is spies; should I discover this is what you are, not even your Gods will protect you from me. Is it understood?" You simply not, inwardly grateful you have nothing to fear and still unable not to tremble as you face the unexpressed ferocity of the general; you have gone beyond fear of pain and torture, but he really is the last man you would want to make an enemy of... the sort of man you might respect. "It is understood, my lord." "You may call me general, since you are under my command now. And do you have a name I can use?" "I am named (name). I am at your service, and I swear I will follow you to the end of the world, as long as you bring me my prize."

🗡️ From that day on, your life as part of the Roman army begins, and being the only woman among hundreds of men is hard... but slightly less than you would have expected. Virilus has made clear that while he will do his utmost to protect you, he cannot guarantee your safety, from external enemies as well as the attention you might be given from his soldiers, which you have accepted, since you are not a child and he is not your father. Virilus makes sure the soldiers of the Legion knows you are to be left alone and that any man who tries to hurt you will have him to answer to, and most of them begrudgingly obey, out of loyalty for their commander. Lustful gazes and obscene jokes are something you can bear and ignore, since they are nothing new and you understand that most of those men have been alone for months if not years; it does occur at times that you are pushed against a wall or grabbed and then pulled inside a room, and you use your nails and knees to defend yourself and escape, shaken but safe. You do not complain to Virilus, but in another occasion a drunk man is dared to enter your room at night; finding him touching you while sitting on your bed, you scream loud enough to wake the whole fort, and when the general himself rushes to your aid, he sees that you put the dagger you always carry with you, hanging from your belt or hidden under your pillow, to good use, and the man has to be cared for by the healers before Virilus has him flogged. From then on, no one bothers you again, and you start bolting your door.

🗡️ You mostly keep to yourself, both out of a natural preference and to avoid unnecessary attention, and in the end, most of the men get used to you and treat you with the rough camaraderie they typically reserve to each other. Some do not even try to hide the contempt they feel for one belonging to the race they have been fighting for decades, and a traitor of her own people besides, which you accept; a few are more agreeable, maybe because they appreciate your help or simply because of the trust their commander has put in you. Septus, Virilus' attendant and close friend, incidentally discovers you have received basic training with a sword, and the two of you spar a few times; Tarak, the cook, takes a liking to you after you catch a few rabbits for the mess and makes sure you receive the same rations as everyone else.

🗡️ You have the opportunity to prove yourself, and the sincerity of your intentions, just a few days after your arrival at the Legion's command post. You inform Virilus that Gorlacon is expecting a visit from a few of his allies, the tribes that have united under his command against the Empire, and that will meet to plan an assault on the Roman forces; you help organize an ambush thanks to which two important chieftains fall into Virilus' hands, and are later convinced by the general to reveal Gorlacon's plans. You are also acquainted with a few members of other tribes who oppose the Briton leader, and introduce them to Virilus so that he can propose an alliance against him; your knowledge of Briton territory, society, military forces and strategies are likewise useful and freely shared, unlike what might be confessed by prisoners. Your arrival does not magically solve the Legion's difficulties, nor it ensures a rapid, easy victory, but in the next two years the general has no reason to regret accepting you in his service.

🗡️ Virilus is highly protective of you, which at first seems the most natural thing; after all, no one likes spies, soldiers least of all and even if they prove yourself useful to the cause, and a woman without friends or protectors living with hundreds of men would have to watch her steps. This is why he has you sleep in a room far from the soldiers' quarters but close to his own -so that he can intervene in case of necessity, and hear you shout should you need help- and has secretly asked Septus to spar with you -without telling you he had, but rather as if his friend simply wanted to cross swords with an opponent who had been taught a different style of swordmanship- to make sure you are able to defend yourself. He is intrigued by you, not last because the army is everything he has known ever since he was only a boy, and for years he has considered any native of Britain as an enemy he had to kill before being killed himself... but you are different; you are, he is sure as soon as he sees you, even though it takes him a long time to understand how, and why.

🗡️ His days are as busy as they can be, between patrols, hours spent planning and organizing his troops, and sparring; Virilus sincerly enjoys spending time with his men, who in turn treat him with both respect and familiarity, but occasionally he needs to be alone with his thoughts, reflecting on his past and his future, on the events that have brought him where he is and what the Gods might have in store for him... and in those moments, the only person whose company he finds himself welcoming, is yours. He knows better than to share confidential informations he has been entrusted by his superiors and he is not the sort of man who easily shares his emotions, but he feels at ease with you, even more than with the men he has served with for years.

🗡️ You are perhaps the first Briton and Roman who have a chance to live side by side and talk in peace, since your peoples have been at war for decades, and you spend hours discussing the differences between your two cultures. Since birth you have been taught to consider Rome as your most bitter enemy, the cruel and bloodthirsty invasor who aims to conquer Britain and enslave its people; you have not changed your mind, but at the same time you listen, fascinated and rapt as you were when the elders of your village recounted the stories of Gods and heroes, as he tells you of the great men who have led Rome, transforming it from a village not unlike your own into a huge empire where the sun never sets, about their Gods, much less different from your own than you had imagined, and about the city itself, where greatness and brutality coexist in a whirlwind of races and colors and languages, a place of culture and civility and knowledge where slaves are slaughtered by wild beast and warriors kill each other for the entertainment of the crowd.

🗡️ It is all so new and interesting for you, so much that you wish you could write it -something you are unable to do, since such an ability is considered a prerogative of men and your father never allowed you to learn- to make sure you forget nothing, but the thing you are most fascinated by, and that you are never sated to hear about... is him. Titus Flavius Virilus -a cognomen that, you must admit, suits him perfectly- general of the Ninth Legion, an expert commander and soldier; it is easy to see why his men love and trust him so completely, and would be ready to follow him to the end of the world: brave, strong, completely void of the self-importance and superiority so common among officers, he is the sort of man who can happily spend an evening on an equal footing with his subordinates, drinking and playing dices, and then command their obedience without even raising his voice. He has deep, clever dark eyes, a booming laugh, a big, burly frame, and callous hands; he treats you with the same respect he uses with the soldiers, apparently unconcerned of both your origins, which should make him hate you, and your gender. He appears to trust you and to sincerely believe in his promise to reward your help with Gorlacon's head, and for a long time this is everything you need and want; it takes you a while you realize you sincerely appreciate his presence and company, and even more before you allow yourself to accept, in the depth of your heart, how... fond you have become of him.

🗡️ He is capable with a sword, and ruthless when need be: the first time you witness a battle between the Legion and the Briton forces -your own people, you cannot help thinking, but you have hardened your heart against pity and fealty, because everything Gorlacon and his men will suffer, he will have brought it upon himself- your eyes avidly follow him from the rear, and you feel yourself shivering out of awe and fear together as you see him cleave himself a path through the enemy forces, every slash of his sword meeting the arm, the chest, or the neck of a Briton warrior; he is relentless, merciless, steadfast in his determination to survive another day or at least bring as many enemies as he can with him. More than once he is wounded, but that only helps increase his lust for blood; astride on his war horse, the sun rays playing on the metal of his armor and the plumed helm that makes it easier for his men to locate him on the battlefield, Virilus appears like a war God bent on conquer and distruction. When in the end he returns to you, bleeding and out of breath but victorious, his sword in an hand and the standard of the enemy troops he just vanquished in the other, you stare at each other for a moment, and when you finally speak you can barely hear yourself above the pounding of your heart. "Did you find him?" you ask, and Virilus does not need to ask who you are referring to, nor does he asks you to wait until the wounded have been cared for and the troops have returned to their post; he shakes his head, clear and sincere regret in his eyes. "He was able to escape." he confesses "I am very sorry; I had hoped to capture him, but he was quick to disappear when he realized his troops had been vanquished." You are disappointed, and angry, even though you knew that even if defeated Gorlacon would not have been an easy prey to catch, but then Virilus rests his hand on your shoulder, and you look at him, feeling as if, just for a moment, whatever distance existed between you had disappeared like snow at the first song of spring; it is pleasant, even if it does not make you feel any better. "I am sorry." he repeats "I know this is not what you wanted, but I will bring you his head, as I promised. You have my word." You can only nod in response, feeling for the first time in months as if hate and desire for revenge are not enough to make you wish to go on... nor is the empathy this strange man who barely knows you feels for your plight.

🗡️ Two years pass like this, with periods -weeks, or months- that you spend in peace, even content, with the men of the Legion, among which you have found, if not friends, allies you can reasonably trust will not stab you in the back and who have gotten used to your presence, and Virilus, to whom you are now bonded by a peculiar, unexpected friendship, made of a the shared goal to vanquish a common enemy, and a genuine and chaste pleasure in each other's company. The news that a Briton woman has allied herself with the Romans has spread all over the land, and you are sure there are many among your people -well, what you once considered your people- that curse your name because of that betrayal and would gladly kill you. You do not care, not in the slightest, but while you have asked Virilus to reward your help with Gorlacon's head, sometimes you hope you will have a chance to look him in the eyes before he is sentenced to death, to make clear he is paying for what he has done to you. Most of the time you are... not happy, because that is an emotion you are probably not able to feel anymore, but at least in a place where pain and solitude cannot hurt you as they once did; you can even feel a flicker of joy, occasionally, when the soldiers drinking in the mess hall put a cup in your hands and let you sit among them to share a drink and a laugh, or when Septus compliments you after you disarm him for the first time, or Tarak shares with you an old recipe of his family and lets you help prepare it... or when Virilus asks you to ride by his side during an expedition to ask you questions about the terrain or the tribes living nearby who could be convinced to oppose Gorlacon - matters, you suspect, of which he has a perfect understanding already. In moments like those, you can almost fool yourself, and think there still exist a future for you, and something that is worth living for.

🗡️ And then there are other moments, shorter and sporadic, but still enough to make you feel as if you were losing a part of you each time. Moments in which you miss your people, your family and your friends, and you cannot believe you have actually done it, that you have left everything you knew and held dear to throw yourself in the arms of the enemy, the army sent from the other side of the Sea with the sole intent to kill and enslave every single Briton on the island; the betrayal is certainly enough to earn you an eternity of torment after your death, but it is not only that, and even though you are treated civilly, sometimes even friendly, by your Roman allies, and even if Virilus were to make good on his promise to kill Gorlacon for you, vengeance would not give you back what you have lost, nor would it free you from the pain, the solitude and the regret that have become your constant companion.

🗡️ One day the Ninth Legion faces the united forces of Garlacon and his allies in a great battle, achieving an important victory that, you hear Virilus discussing, might represent a concrete progress on the road to the complete conquest of Britain. That result has been reached with your help, since you were able to advice your allies regarding the strategies the Britons would use and the best terrain to face them, but celebration is the last thing on your mind: Gorlacon has escaped once more, slipping away with the men of his personal guard once he realized ruin was upon them. The disappointment, yet another ever since you joined the Legion, pushes you beyond the brink; you argue with Virilus, accusing of having forgotten the word he had given you to pursue his own goals, and then you storm away, pushing away the soldiers ready to grab you and let the general discipline you.

🗡️ Hoping Tarak will not be crossed with you, but too saddened and upset to stop, you steal a bottle of fine wine from the kitchen and find a corner on the border the woods, where you drink and grumble and cry and feel alone for a while, while at a stone's throw from you the Legion celebrates their great victory; night has fallen, and you are starting to feel uncomfortably cold, but you do not want the men to see you in your sorry state. You have been sitting with your back against the trunk of an oak for a while, feeling sorry for yourself but both too proud and too shy to return to the fort and beg for the general's forgiveness, when the man you were thinking about -which is not surprising; Virilus has become an unexpectedly regular presence in your thoughts, a fact you have not quite come to terms with yet- appears by your side, looking not crossed nor surprised to see you there, a warm cape on his large shoulders. He briefly hesitates, and then, seeing you are not going to shy away from his company, he silently sits next to you; after a moment, you extend the bottle as an offer of peace, that he accepts. "I am sorry; I should not have spoken to you in that manner... and I think I have been drinking your wine." you confess, and Virilus laughs - a pleasant sound; even though he has been wounded in two places and briefly even lost consciousness on the battlefield, he seems in very high spirits, which is understandable, given the almost decisive victory he has achieved that day. "I am not angry; you, on the other hand, have a reason to be crossed. I had ordered one of the centuriae to expressely search for Gorlacon, so as to bring him to you, but he was able to escape. I know this is something I have already said plenty of times... but I am sorry."

🗡️ He is so honest and sincere in his regret, you feel your rage disappearing - or at least, you are now capable to accept it is not fair to accuse him of indolence. "Thank you, general; I did not mean to accuse you, I know you are the sort of man who believes in his word, but..." "But you were angry." he easily guesses as he passes you the wine once more. "Angry and disappointed, which I can understand. You really hate Gorlacon, do you not?" "I do. He has..." you begin, and then you hesitate, because you are coming dangerously close to the topic you had both sworn and ordered yourself to never discuss, and the simple act of thinking about him breaks your heart, but you have carried that sadness in your heart for so long, that sharing it, even just partially, might ease that weight from your heart...

🗡️ "I hate him with every fiber of my being." you reveal in the end, staring in the darkness in front of you while your memories bring you back, back to that terrible night when you lost everything you could have lived for "I hate him so much, there is no space in my heart for anything else. I would gladly give my blood, my life, my very soul, to make sure he pays. He has destroyed my life; he has taken the... the things I loved the most away from me. And because of this, i will never know peace before I make sure he pays for it." You have started crying again, which is terrible, because Virilus is right next to you, and the last thing you want is to have him think you weak and prone to tears, as it is said it is common for women, but Virilus is not the sort of man who loses respect in someone when he sees them in pain. He looks at you, and his own heart aches as he sees you suffer, and there is nothing he could do to comfort you - which he desperately wishes; he trusts you fully, and he has come to consider you a close companion, not unlike the comrades he has served with for years, but there is something more, something he is both fascinated and unsettled by; the fragility in your pain, mixed with the courage to overcome it and keep living, even if just to earn your revenge, the pure joy on your face as the soldiers let you sit among them to enjoy companionship and a cup of wine, and the safety and peace you find in solitude, aware that you are not one of them and never will be. You are full of contradictions and secrets, a person who has been marked by mourning and has decided to make it her armor and sustenance, and Virilus may not know what exactly has happened to you, what you have lost and why exactly you want Gorlacon's head on a pike, but one thing he is certain of: he is glad you are part of his troops, glad you decided to entrust him with your purpose in life... and if you are ready to damn your soul to make certain your enemy dies, he will gladly taint his own to ensure you are satisfied... and able to smile again.

🗡️ He asks no questions; he wishes you would confide in him -he really does; but why? Does he really want to know what brought you to ally yourself with the sworn enemies of your people... or does he simply wishes to know you trust him enough to share your secrets with him?- but he knows it is not his place to ask, and this is why he holds his tongue, and slowly, awkwardly, rests his muscled arm on your shoulders; he feels you stiffen for a moment, almost reflexively, before you seem to determine he poses no threat, and you keep sobbing quietly, the wine bottle still in your hands, and then a few minutes later, whether because of the long day or because of you are more than a little inebriated, you start nodding, and soon after his arm on your shoulders is the only thing keeping you upright; you have fallen asleep against him, and Virilus laughs softly and for a minute he stays where he is, his arms -both of them now- around you, both shielded by a night dark enough to hide any secret. There is nothing inappropriate, let alone prurient, in what he is doing, but the general cannot help feeling guilty as he holds you close, your heart beating against his ribcage, your breath brushing against his cheek.

🗡️ It is the first time he sees you asleep, since you always lock yourself in your room, and Virilus finds that you look at ease, even peaceful in your slumber, as if the pain and the resentment that have been part of you ever since the two of you met had relented, leaving you in peace at least as you walk in Morpheus' realm. He holds you in his arms, the weight and the substance of your body a source of a sweet, chaste comfort he could not explain in words... like a child that hugs her doll to find courage in the darkness of her bedroom. He is not scared of, or particularly worried for, anything, but still, it is a pleasant sensation, especially after you move in your sleep and rest your cheek on his shoulder... something he had not felt since he had stepped on Briton soil. He lingers for a while, knowing he is expected back at the fort and the longer he waits the more awkward it will be in case he is spotted, but he allows himself to enjoy that sweet feeling, knowing in his heart it will never happen again, because you would never let him get so close to you, at least when you are awake. Or would you?

🗡️ In the end, he lifts you in his arms -you are lighter than expected, the shape of your body that seems almost as if it were made expressly to rest against his- and carries you back; he chooses the corridors he has reason to hope will be desert as he reaches your room, not wishing to have to answer to awkward questions -or, worse, to have gossip spread on the two of you- but he does runs into someone: Septus, returning from the latrine, and whose eyes open wide seeing his commander with the woman fast asleep in his arms. "I am carrying her to bed." Virilus explains, and Septus respectfully nods; he will tell no one what he has seen, and he trusts his commander's good intentions, but still, Virilus is embarassed... as if he had been caught doing something illicit, or intimate. In the end, he reaches your tiny room, planning on closing the door from the outside and then slid the key under it to keep you safe... and make sure you can leave on the following morning. He lays you on the bed, the back of your head resting on the pillow, and for a whole minute he hesitates again, just looking at your peaceful, vulnerable form, and wishing he could forget propriety and duty, and simply lie next to you. There is nothing sexual in his desires; those he could deal, and make peace, with; what he feels in that moment is much more untypical, and unexpected, and it scares him a little. In the end he leaves, allowing himself to only brush his fingers against your cheek before retreating.

🗡️ He sleeps very little that night, your face appearing behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. From the next day on you never speak of that moment, and obviously you are not aware of what he did, since you were asleep, but you can assume -or maybe Septus told you, who knows...- and when your eyes meet, there is no need for words to know that brief, innocent moment is not something you are going to forget soon. Apparently, nothing changes between the two of you, but now for some reason his very presence evokes a queer feeling in you... as if you were made on edge every time he even just speaks to you -but it is not an unpleasant feeling- and at the same time, you felt unhappy when you have not seen him for a few hours. These are feelings you know well, having experienced them before -only once; but it is not something you can easily forget- and for a while you cannot believe it, since he is so dramatically different from the person who first aroused those emotions in your soul... but the heart follows rules of his own, and you had sworn yourself to never get attached to anyone ever again, both out of fealty to who you had lost and because you thought you were simply not able to anymore, but apparently you were wrong. You had drunk, yes, more than you should have, but you could not have fallen asleep in his presence unless you completely trusted him, and even though you were in so much pain, feeling your heart break once more as the tears would not stop falling, you felt comfort, and consolation, in his silent presence. You could have told you everything; even more, you wanted to tell him everything, to share with him the trauma of your past, and even though the matter did not concern him and like any soldier he must have witnessed his fair share of tragedy, you know Virilus would have listened intently, comforting you in his own way, since he is not the sort of man who openly expresses his feelings, holding you close and drying your tears, and the simple thought of him touching you -his strong hands, usually grasping the handle of a sword or the reins of an horse, but that you know would be gentle and even reverent as they brush against your cheek- and being held in his embrace, his muscled arms tight around your waist and shoulders, his breath hot on your face, would be enough to make you forget yourself...

🗡️ Everything happened in the span of a few minutes, and at the same time it has been slowly growing in your heart for months, maybe even more; it is an unexpected feeling, a source of guilt and joy at the same time... and that you can barely accept in the secrecy of your heart, but that you will never confess to the man who has elicited it in you. Why should you? It is absolutely impossible that Virilus shares and reciprocates your feelings, and in any case, the Roman conquest of Britain will be probably over in a few weeks, which means that you will have soon to say farewell before he returns home; it appears your destiny is to have your heart broken and to lose the person you care for the most, for the second time. No, it is better if you keep quiet, and your secrets to yourself… hoping that knowing that Virilus is safe at home will ease your loneliness, once the vastness of the sea has divided you.

🗡️ A few weeks pass in the routine you are by now used to; Virilus keeps seeking your company, and you could avoid him at least in part -after all he is not your father and you are not a prisoner- but you do not, even though being next to him is now a sweet torture you keep subjecting yourself to. And then suddenly, almost overnight, everything changes: you have gone spying in a village whose chief is an ally of Gorlacon, taking advantage of the fact that unlike the Romans you can easily pass for one of the residents and go unnoticed, and discover the chief of the Britons is preparing a last, desperate assault on the Roman forces, rallying his allies and former rivals against a common enemy. You inform Virilus, who quickly musters his troops, and launches an attack on Gorlacon's village on the day the alliance talks are supposed to begin: many men of the Legion die on the battlefield, but the chiefs are quickly captured, and forced to choose between death or swearing fealty to Rome. Not your sworn enemy, though: he is captured, ten men tasked to make sure he does not escape or take his own life to avoid the humiliation of servitude, and brought to Virilus; they look at each other, the victorious general and his hostage, and Gorlacon is still defiant, ready to welcome death before submitting to his enemy's will… and then next to Virilus you appear, and the flabbergasted, incredulous expression of the chief would almost look comical, were it not for all that brought you to that point, the hate and the thirst for vengeance that pushed you to betray your own people. "You!" he cries in disbelief; he has been pushed to his knees, while you loom over him, for once in a position of strength in front of the man who took everything you loved from you. "Yes. Me. You should have killed me that day; did you really think I would not seek to make you pay, after what you did? You may hate me, and consider me a traitor of my people; I care not. Yes, for two years I have helped the Romans against you, and now, thanks to my help, they have vanquished your forces, and conquered your land. You may curse my name, and call upon the Gods' revenge on me, but one thing you need to remember: this is all your fault and your fault only, and the ruin of the Briton people falls on you alone."

🗡️ A man approaches with an axe in his hands, and asks Virilus whether he wants to carry out the sentence himself; before he can answer, the general's eyes meet yours, and there is no need for words before he silently signals to the man to pass the axe to you. Beheading someone is much less easy than you imagined, since the first swing, taken with all your might, is not enough to completely separate a head from a body... nor to kill its owner. You have to swing a second time, and a third, and even a fourth, and by then, there is blood everywhere, the soldier who gave you the axe had to leave because he was feeling sick, and you are crying and screaming like a banshee. In the end, Virilus gently takes the axe from your hands and takes you in his arms, and you try to wriggle free, fighting without a real reason, but he keeps holding you until you collapse against him, feeling too weary and exhausted to cry and with the terrible knowledge that it did not do any good already taking root in your heart. "It is all right; it is over. He is dead, he cannot hurt you anymore." Virilus keeps repeating, and while he is right that is not enough to comfort you, nor you realize in your moment of mourning that he is holding closer that you remember him ever doing, as close as it is normal only for kin... or lovers. You can feel his heart beat against your chest, but that sweet, intimate sensation, is lost in the sea of pain and solitude you feel yourself drowning in. Yes, it is over; you got your revenge, and those you have lost have been vindicated. But then, you wonder as you sob against the general's shoulder, why does it not feel like a victory at all? Why do you feel even worse than before?

🗡️ That night, while the Legion celebrates their victory and, consequently, their imminent return home, Virilus asks you to walk with him out of the fort, an offer you gladly accept, since you are in need of fresh air. You walk quietly for a while, still on the look-out since the triumph of that day does not mean there are not Britons lurking in the dark waiting to get revenge against at least one enemy, but both aware of the peace surrounding you, and that each of the two has come to identify with the company of the other. "How do you feel? I know it meant much for you to see him dead, but sometimes revenge does not actually brings the peace one had hoped to find." he notices, and you slowly nod, admitting you do feel happy Gorlacon is dead, knowing you were the reason for his doom, but at the same time, the peace and relief you had hoped to find still escape you.

🗡️ "He was your father, was he not?" he asks in the end, and for a whole minute it is as if you could not breathe anymore. "How... how did you know that?" you ask in the end. "The way you spoke about him made me suppose you knew him well; at first I thought you had been a servant in his house or related to one of his commanders, but there was more to it... it seemed you had an almost preternatural ability to foresee his decisions, regarding alliances and battle strategies and much more. And when I saw the two of you face to face, I had to wonder how could I not realize there was such a familiarity... even though your father was infinitely uglier." Those last words draw a smile from you -was that a compliment, he was trying to pay you?- before your expression turns sad once more. "You think me a monster, do you not? A daughter who not only betrayed her own people, but who did it to kill her father." you suggest, so afraid to see contempt on his face, but Virilus shakes his head, saying that while the act of patricide would normally horrify him, it is clear that Gorlacon did something terrible to you, and maybe he deserved what he brought upon him. "He did. He..." you begin, and then stop, struggling against the words you had sworn you would never utter; Virilus is looking at you, waiting and intent, and you know he will never ask to know more, both because the matter does not concern him and because he knows how painful it is for you, and this is exactly why you decide to tell him.

🗡️ "I had a lover once; a good man, who lived in my village. We had promised to never part as long as we were alive, and planned to marry soon. The problem was, my... Gorlacon would never give his consent; he did not care much for me, since he had five other daughters by his various wives and mistresses and only cared about sons who he could train as soldiers and commanders, but we knew he intended to marry me to one of the other chieftains, to secure an alliance or as an exchange of favours; my lover was not a soldier, since he had a lame arm, and he was exactly the sort of man my father despised. So, after two years of secrecy, we decided to run away and build a new life far from Gorlacon's influence; I had realized I... I was pregnant, and we knew soon it would have been impossible to hide our relationship. We had told no one, but someone must have seen or heard us discussing, because on the night my lover and I had met in the stables to steal two horses and disappear, Gorlacon ambushed us, with six of his men. "You really thought you could leave without me knowing? You belong to me, you foolish girl, and I'll teach you to defy my will!" This is what he told me, and before I knew he had raised the dagger in his hand; my lover attempted to defend me, and Gorlacon killed him without mercy or a moment of hesitation; he stabbed him in the heart, and a moment later my lover was dead at my feet, and Gorlacon had ordered his men to take me, and was raising his dagger once more. "Please, do not; please, I am with child." I said; I begged him, something I had sworn never to do in my life, but it was for nothing; he grinned, and "Why would I want to let your little bastard live?" he said, and he stabbed me in the belly. I must have fainted, because when I came to my senses I was in a cell, prisoner. I was able to escape at night letting one of the guards have his way with me and then stunning him with a rock; I stole an horse... and two hours later I was here, in front of you."

🗡️ Your tone was inexpressive as you spoke, completely emotionless, as you were repeating a lesson you had learnt from your teacher and not a dramatic series of events; the death of your lover, the loss of your child... even the abuse you had to bear to regain your freedom. Virilus has known his fair share of pain, death and affliction, but he cannot help being moved by your plight. No wonder you hated Gorlacon with every fiber of your being! All you asked for was to live in peace with the people you loved... and that was taken from you by the greed and the cruelty of a father who considered you his property. He has never been capable to express simpathy, and the way he would attempt to comfort a comrade -a rude hug- would be inappropriate for a woman, especially one who has been assaulted like you had; in the end, all he can do is take your hand in his -delicately, as if you were something fragile, which you are not, and precious, which you are- and whisper "I am so sorry." and you smile, comforted by his evident sincerity. "Thank you. I fear what happened will remain with me for a while, even though my lover and child have been avenged; but now my heart can rest, and one day I will be able to leave all of this behind me."

🗡️You walk for a while, in peace with yourself and each other, leaving the voices and the noise of the fort behind you, and in the end you reach the tree under whose leaves you sat together on that night, and Virilus did something only your lover had before: he saw you cry, and you let him, finding comfort in his presence. You stop there, silent, and that is when you realize he is still holding your hand; the night has fallen silent around you, as if in wait. You feel yourself go scarlet in the face, because, headstrong and brazen as you have always been, you would rather walk naked in the snow than express your feelings, especially when you are almost sure the other person will not reciprocate... but you are going to lose him soon, and that knowledge, rather than push you to stay away to spare your heart the pain, makes you desirous to enjoy the little time you have together. "Now that you have conquered Britain... you will return to Rome soon, will you not?" you quietly ask. "I will; we will, as soon as we are sure the chieftains who swore fealty to the Empire will keep their word." "I see. And since we are going to part soon... would you let me share your bed tonight? I will be very careful not to be seen by anyone..."

🗡️ Your tone is hesitating, but the hopeful look of your eyes proves how sure and eager you are; you are not trying to seduce him, just openly offering yourself to him, clear and sincere as you have always been, and that sight fills Virilus' heart with a tenderness he has never experienced before. He takes your face in his big, warms hands, and lets his smile express all the joy he feels. "(name), there is nothing in this world I would wish more." You return to the fort together, and Virilus leads you by the hand to his room, as sparsely decorated as those of the soldiers. "I desire you so much; I have for a long time." he confesses as you are both standing next to the bed "I... I am a rough man, and you have been reviled; If I were to hurt you, I..." You smile, silencing his fears with a finger on those lips you cannot wait to feel against yours. "I know. But you cannot hurt me, general; I know what sort of man you are, and nothing you could ever do would be... unwelcome. Quite the opposite, actually. Please; will you not kiss me?"

🗡️ He does, long and hard enough to leave you both breathless, and from then on you stop talking; there is no need for words between you, but on that night, you express everything you feel and that you have no shame and embarassment in sharing, because you know now Virilus' heart and yours beat as one. After the loss of the man you loved, and the abuse you had to submit to in order to escape, you had been sure you would never know pleasure or the joy of being close to another person again; you were sorely wrong, and you do not care if you are going to have to say farewell soon, you just want to keep the memory of this night in your heart forever, and you will be content with just that. Virilus is a passionate lover, attentive to your pleasure and relentless in pursuing his, and your body is a flower that blooms in the warmth of his embrace. You fall asleep at dawn, and it is not much later that you are awake once more, and he is already astir, fastening his sandals and making sure his dagger is in the sheath at his belt. He looks at you, openly pleased to see you happy and satisfied in his bed; he does not need to ask if you are all right, or if he hurt you, but he bends on the bed to kiss you. "You may stay, if you wish." he offers, and you both know the longer you linger in his bed the more probable it is you will be seen by the men once you will leave, and you do not care. So what if the soldiers gossip about you and their general? You have done nothing to feel ashamed of or guilty for... and in any case, you reflect as the happiness in your heart trembles for a moment, he is going to leave soon, and what you shared, what you lived together, will matter no longer but for you...

🗡️ You stand from the bed and pick your clothes up from the floor, reminding yourself you have nothing to embarassed, and sad for; Virilus, on his part, is hesitating, his arm resting on the wall as he contemplates the view out of the tiny window. "Have you thought about what you will do once the Legion has left?" he inquires in the end, turning to look at you, his tone deliberately casual "I doubt you would be welcomed in your old village, even though Gorlacon is dead." "Oh, I know. I could never go back, nor I would want to, but I had thought I could move somewhere else; I am sure a few of the chieftains who are now allies of your Empire would let me stay in one of their villages." you answer as you shrug; your mother passed when you were five, you have no desire to see your siblings and the sole family you ever cared for was the one you had hoped to build with your lover, a dream that has withered like a flower at the beginning of winter. You have no interest in becoming an hermit, but in the end, any place would be acceptable. "I see." Virilus says "But..." "But?"

🗡️ He sits on the border of the bed before taking your hand; his is the face of a man who would rather gladly fight Gorlacon's army all on his own, rather than facing you in that moment. "But, I was hoping you would consider leaving Britain with us, and coming to live in Rome." he says, and had he said he wanted you to go live on top of a tree in a nest like a bird, or on the Moon, you would have been less astounded. "Me? In Rome?" you repeat, barely able to picture such a situation in your mind "What would I ever do in a place like that?" Virilus tells you that, Rome being the centre of the civilized world, full of culture and industry and beauty and entertainment, it would be easy to find something that appeals to you; to move from a village, or a military fort, to a city with a million people living within its borders, would be a major change, but you are smart and resilient, and would easily find your place. Moreover, his house is not exactly in Rome, rather it is a farm in the countryside surrounding it - a more tranquil place, a convenient compromise between isolation and the bustle of the city.

🗡️ "Your home?" you wonder in a whisper, your heart skipping a beat or four. By now you are sitting as well, and Virilus slowly nods; he has not blushed, but you can easily see the discomfiture in his bearing, the hopeful and fearful expression of a man who hopes to receive a positive answer, but knows it would be unwise to expect it. "Yes. I... I hoped you would decide to come and live with me, now that you have nothing to keep you in Britain." he confesses "Not as a bed-slave or a servant, but as my guest and friend, and... and whatever you might decide to concede. You are dear to me, (name); dearer than anyone has ever been, and I... I do not wish to part from you. If you wish to think about it you can, of course, but..." You stop his speech with a kiss, light but passionate, and you look at him, the most complete and pure happiness shining in your eyes. "Yes. I will come with you." you promise, and you have no need to think about it, to evaluate the advantages and disadvantages, because this is the most beautiful surprise you have ever received, the chance to leave pain and solitude behind, and an adventure you will share with the man your heart beats for "I will; there is nothing I wish more."

🗡️ You share a smile, his forehead resting against yours. "Forever?" he proposes in a whisper; "Forever." you promise, and a new kiss is exchanged as the sun spreads its rays on the valley and the woods.

Many thanks to @animusrox for the gif!

#centurion 2010

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#centurion 2010