Summary: (Suggested by @magnaesquire) A few months after they arrive in the museum, the Western Diorama invites Rome for a stag dance. Curious, they decide to accept. AU where they’re friends from the very beginning. (A bit OOC but I don’t think by too much?)
Octavius had been in strange situations. On the top of his list was ending up as a figurine in a diorama. Though, in all honesty, Octavius was relieved. When he’d died, he’d died believing that he had not done enough. True, there wasn’t much he could do in his small environment, but at least he was back to work.
Since his men were still adjusting to the new Rome they were in, Octavius had not had them go explore outside of the diorama. They were not yet ready to take in the vastness that was outside of their territory. During empty hours, Octavius studied the language that was spoken by the giant people that walked through the halls. He was doing quite well, but was still a bit rocky. He couldn’t speak it that well, but his writing was alright.
Their first contact with those outside of their diorama was when a person called a “Cowboy” came to Rome. With him, he brought a letter that was hastily handed to them before he disappeared. The letter was then given to Octavius, he being the only Roman who could fluently understand the English language.
“A ‘stag dance,’” Octavius read out loud, arching an eyebrow. “I have never heard of such thing.”
He said this to no one in particular, since his men would certainly be no more informed than he was. He rolled up the letter and crossed his arms behind his back. None of his men had moved, all standing at perfect attention. Octavius stared at them, then a smile split on his face.
“Shall we go see what our neighbors have to offer?” he asked them.
“Yes sir!” they all echoed at once.
“At ease!” Octavius commanded. “It says to meet them in their…diorama…at any time possible. Shed your armor and wear your togas. They will be far easier to move about in. They…said we’d want to be loose.”
His men looked back-and-forth at each other, confused, but they all just shrugged and wandered off to their houses to remove their armor and put on their togas. Once they were all gone, Octavius left to do the same. That was another big adjustment Octavius had to make when he awoke in the museum. He had no servants. Octavius had been somewhat against slaves-he had had a few, but not nearly as many as other high-ranking Roman authorities-but they’d helped with with many everyday tasks such as getting dressed. His toga was quite difficult to put on himself, but, nowadays, Octavius managed.
While most of his men wore a basic white Toga Pura, Octavius wore a Toga Picta. A dark, rich, purple one. There was such a difference between clothing because, in this diorama, there were only legionnaires and then Octavius. So, his status as their leader was only cemented by the beautifully colored and gold-threaded toga he wore. It was quite difficult getting all the fabric to fold and layer itself in the right way, but Octavius was able to get it done after so much practice. Once he was done, Octavius put a gold crown shaped like laurel leaves atop his head.
Before he stepped outside, Octavius slipped away to find Atticus. Atticus was the youngest man in the Diorama, hardly older than sixteen. Octavius treated Atticus like a son, and Atticus treated him like a father. Every time Octavius put on his toga, he always ended up asking Atticus to fix it up for him. Since there were no women in the Roman Diorama, the men needed to manage, learning how to cook, weave, clean, etc. Atticus took to it like a fish to water. So, Octavius trusted him with all of the tasks that he still did not yet feel comfortable with.
“Atticus?” he called softly into the small house that was behind his own. “Atticus, are you there?”
A few moments later, Atticus’s happy, bright face appeared in his doorway. “What do you require of me, Father?”
Octavius smiled gently. “Just to assure me that I am wearing this Toga correctly.”
Atticus’s eyes narrowed and fierce concentration spread across his face as his sharp, artistic eyes scanned for any flaws. “No problems here! You’re faring better than the time before.”
“So something is wrong, It is not perfect?” Octavius asked.
‘Well, your laurel crown is a bit crooked,” Atticus decided. “But other than that, your toga is on correctly.”
Atticus had also immersed himself into the study of the English language. Unlike Octavius, he fared better in the language itself than with the writing. Though Atticus couldn’t write much to begin with, anyhow. But Atticus decided it would be a good idea to learn English, should the occasion arise that he needed to converse in that language with someone.
“Thank you, Atticus.” Octavius straightened the laurel crown. “Are you properly dressed for meeting our neighbors?”
Nodding, Atticus stepped completely out of the doorway to show that he was wearing his own toga. “What do you think of them? Will they be like the barbarians? Is this a trap?”
“I do not think so. If this is a trap, it is a very poorly thought-out one. Even without armor, Rome has the best hand-to-hand combatants. Besides, what have we done to anger them? Nothing. So, as of right now, I am deciding to trust them,” Octavius explained.
In all honesty, he wanted to trust them. Octavius had lived his life learning that he had to trust no one. That the only person he could depend on was himself. And that caused him to live a very lonely, sad life. Even after he’d met his one and only love, Livia, his joy had been short-lived as she died in childbirth shortly after their marriage. After he’d awakened and realized that he was alive again, Octavius had searched through all of Rome, desperate, seeing if Livia was alive with him. But there was no such luck. So, he finally decided it was time to try and trust, or else he’d be doomed to live his life in the dark emptiness it had been before.
“Well, it’s your call. And I won’t question it,” Atticus decided. “And…I excited, honestly. Just from what that man was wearing, I can tell that they are far different from us.”
“You also find him attractive, don’t you?” Octavius guessed.
Atticus’s ears turned red. “Maybe…”
Octavius laughed brightly and patted Atticus’s shoulder. “Do not be ashamed, Atticus. He’s a handsome man. No one can deny that. Just be careful and do not leave my sight. Alright?”
Nodding, Atticus followed behind Octavius as he gathered the rest of his men. It wasn’t too hard getting to their neighboring diorama, surprisingly. The hard part was getting up. But, they lowered a ladder down and, one by one, the Romans lifted themselves up to the top of the diorama. Once up there, the cowboy from before gestured for them to follow him.
They did just that, and Octavius could hear the sounds of music, whoops, laughter, and stomping feet. Atticus drew closer to Octavius, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Octavius was fine with this. Atticus was a shy boy and got nervous around strangers. For good reason, too.
One cowboy looked away from the fire he was tending to and stood up, a wide grin across his face. When he smiled…oh how Octavius’s heart leaped. Had a child of Venus appeared before him? It could be the only explaination for this man’s exquisit features.
“Howdy, y’all,” he greeted them, tipping his hat. “Welcome! Glad that ya could make it to the stag dance!”
Octavius looked back and forth from the cowboy to his men. “We…do not know what a stag dance is.”
“Well, good thing we’re here ta teach ya! Name’s Jedediah. Yers?” Jedediah asked.
“I am General Octavius, though I was once known as Emperor Augustus, son of Venus, adopted by Julius Caesar,” Octavius annouced proudly.
Jedediah laughed. “Well tha’s a mouthful. Is it ‘kay if I jus call ya ‘General?’ I think I’d remember it better.”
Octavius wanted to say something about Jedediah being incredibly disrespectful, but he forced himself to remember that Jedediah was raised in a completely different culture, so would not know about the formalities of Rome. “Very well. But we are not here for introductions. We are here for what you invited us to do.”
“Well, then yer gonna to want introductions, General. A stag dance is a dance fer two men. I think that yer men are gonna want to get pretty friendly with mine.” Jedediah grinned, turning to his men. “Gee up, boys! Guests are here!”
“Most of my men won’t know English,” Octavius warned him.
Jedediah held up a finger and then pointed at the men. Latin words began to fill Octavius’s ears and his mouth nearly dropped open in surprise. They had learned Latin? He turned back to Jedediah’s wide smile.
“You all…learned Latin?” Octavius asked, his heart doing a little flip.
“Well, on of my men was goin’ explorin’ and heard y’all tryna practice English so we fig’red it was the least we could do,” Jedediah explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, you wanna dance, General?”
“I…” Octavius trailed off. “I never learned. I’ve never even danced for fun.”
“What?!” Jedediah exclaimed. “How do you go your whole life not dancing?”
Octavius shrugged. “Roman nobility is not supposed to dance. That’s a job for the servants. Entertainment, nothing more. But…I suppose I can try.”
He took Jedediah’s hand and let the cowboy lead him over to the pairs that were already dancing around the fire. Mostly cowboys were leading, since most Romans didn’t know how to dance. Octavius was nervous, worried about making a fool of himself. He was Rome’s leader, and they looked up to him. Would they take him less seriously if he danced? That’s what Octavius was taught, anyhow.
“Jus’ follow my lead,” Jedediah instructed.
He stepped back, so Octavius stepped forward. He found himself picking up on the dance quite easily, studying Jedediah’s movements and the other dancers around them. The band was playing a bright, happy song, making energy course through Octavius’s body. Soon, he found himself a bit acting as though he were drunk off of his adrenaline, laughing uncontrollably. Jedediah spun Octavius around, then pulled him close.
“Do ya wanna lead now?” Jedediah asked.
“Sure,” Octavius decided hesitantly.
They started out slow, Octavius getting comfortable with his new role. But, it was as though Octavius was meant to be the lead. He and Jedediah spun around, Octavius’s toga billowing around both of them. After a few more songs, Octavius felt dizzy and overly giddy, so he decided to go sit down. Jedediah joined them, both of them talking for a long time as they drank glasses of water. Every moment with Jedediah just made Octavius find him more and more attractive. They danced for a few more hours before they realized that it was an hour to sunrise.
“Thank you, Jedediah. I haven’t had that much fun for a long time,” Octavius said gratefully.
“Aw, it was our pleasure, General.” Jedediah tipped his hat. “Rest well.”
Back in Rome, Octavius was writing a letter of his own when Atticus walked up behind him. “What are you doing, Father?”
Octavius looked up at Atticus with a small smile. “How do you think our neighbors will like Bacchanalia?”
