Archive of Our Own ^beta

Marcus threw his dagger.

It sailed silver through the sun and wood, striking the fleeing boy down as good as dead and he splashed off through the shallow water of the stream after his kill.

He passed Esca, who knelt where he had let the boy go, still panting from the struggle, staring up at him, his eyes full with emotion.

He looked shocked by the swiftness of the despatch but there was something more in his gaze, a silent accusation, an anger at Marcus for what he had just done.

Marcus did not think he had done wrong but there was some chain between their souls and Esca's emotion affected him, tugging low in his guts.

Regardless he held himself indifferent and when down over the boy swiftly slit his throat with his sword.

Up at the greater spread of the stream he swished his blade through the quicksilver surface to clean it. The boy's blood did not change the pure colour of the water, his loss insignificant.

All the same Esca still glared at him so hard that he could feel his disapproval burning into him even though he did not look.

Marcus whipped around to face him, "Would you have had me free him so he could come back with others to kill us?"

Esca looked a little downwards but his expression was blank and hard like a stone wall, his soul drawing away from Marcus like the rustling stream water.

It made him defensive and he said, "I did as much for you as for me," trying to join them once more.

Esca shook his head and said sullen, eyes to the water, "That boy was closer to my kin than you are."

It stung Marcus that Esca would reject him as brother like that, after he had saved him and after he had given such a passionate oath of loyalty.

Betrayal and for a boy who would've killed Esca had he the first chance.

He was choked by a burst of fury at Esca's stupidity, but only for seconds before it mellowed to curiosity just as angry and driving to understand why Esca was being stupid. He realised there how he trusted Esca, that he truly believed his friend had a good reason for being a fool. It had been long since he had believed in someone else so much in this wretched world.

He stared at Esca and slow began to see from where he sat.

It could not have been the death of the boy itself that distressed Esca, from what he said it sounded more as though Esca felt alike to the boy.

Perhaps Marcus' swift, ruthless killing of a Briton had brought back to Esca the ghosts of his loved ones. Maybe for Esca this act had been unpleasant reminder to him that he served and helped a Roman of the type who might have slaughtered them.

Marcus seethed outwardly, his face still hard and held against but inside his brain was strategising, organising information in the disciplined way he had learnt to when he had been commander of many men with differing priorities and desires.

Warriors should have no need of apology to one another, certainly not for something so necessary, but he was losing Esca to the fog of his melancholy, a forest of thorns growing up slow between them and now miles into enemy territory they were too far in to safely drift apart.

Marcus had to make some move to make him forget this disharmony before it grew dangerous to them.

He went to him and dropped a hand to tug up on his tunic, "Esca come, we need to move on."

Esca had a look of fury, as though he had been bidding farewell to spirits and was too pure to be interrupted.

"I am sorry for the loss of your tribe Esca, but these are not your people, you know they are as much your enemy as mine."

Esca did not move at all.

"Esca! We have no way to ensure that these men were alone, we need to be gone from here or at least make it to somewhere concealed until you are ready to go on," Marcus insisted.

Marcus had in mind the rock overhang where they had left the horses and walked to there alone.

Esca finally rose sullenly to his feet.

When he got under the shelter he looked up at Marcus, eyes cursing him.

Marcus summoned himself, he would not look away, not back down, he would take charge of the situation.

"I hate you," Esca said.

Marcus could not help but lose some of his sense of cool at these words but he had heard them from him before and so stood still and breathed heavy, willing to hear a case for the stance if Esca felt it deeply enough to speak it out like this.

"You didn't have to kill him," Esca said, "we could have captured him."

It was a lunatic's suggestion and Marcus made sure Esca knew his opinion of it from the twist of his face.

"You Romans kill everything." Esca spat disgusted.

Marcus' blood was hot at that insult, "Esca!" he hissed, warning him, "that's enough now, you're being childish!"

"I am being childish?" He repeated furious.

"Yes, a man would be able to get over the death of his tribe where the memory of it might cost him his life."

Esca laughed savagely, "I am risking my life for memories of the past? Says you who treks far into a wild, hostile land that belongs to all manner of fierce enemies just to reclaim yours!"

Marcus found he could say nothing in his defense.

"Ah but then my past is less important than yours isn't it, less of a reason to die for," Esca said, then he shook his head sorrowful, "I hate you, I wish you had let me die, being at your side is not a life I want to have."

Marcus moved toward him to make him quiet, to make him stop saying these hurtful things that made Marcus doubt himself.

That was the trigger and Esca pushed him back angry.

Marcus' problem solving brain surfaced before his fury he was engaged in the struggle only to calm Esca and bring him back.

He grabbed his arm that pushed him hard in the chest, pushed on it himself until he had him backed against the uneven cave wall.

Esca still struggled, surging beneath him, his strength suprising, making Marcus momentarily lose control for seconds at a time but though he was as furious as Marcus had ever seen him, he was at the same time smaller, shorter, lighter in weight with none of Marcus' training in restraint technique and he was trapped there, held there, gradually stilled.

"Esca, enough," Marcus said hands hand on his arms, settled, trying to soothe.

Esca breathed heavily, panting with exertion, with irritation but again that was not the only emotion in his eyes, he was sad too.

Then he was breathing just as hard but moving less, slowly realising that he could not break free beneath him, just stood there eyes downcast, sorrow personified.

They were pressed all warm and tight and so hard into one another still and it was almost an embrace now that Esca had stopped resisting him.

Marcus stayed there finding a strange symmetry in holding his slave down in his pain as he had once done for him.

Perhaps this was where they became truly as equal as they had always felt themselves to be.

"Maybe I could have tied him up." Marcus asked shaking his head, so with Esca that he felt insecure about his actions.

"No," Esca said, finally looking up to him and shaking his head, "I suppose you did what was best."