Chapter Text
Ante diem XV Kalendas Octobres anno LV ante aeram vulgarem
M.
Dabbing the cloth in the murky, dark liquid, I firmly placed the leather breastplate on the table, swiping the polish along the material. Over and over, I repeated this process to make sure the shininess of the leather shined. To pass the time as Brianus worked, I helped out with the more simpler, menial jobs. Polishing the leather, threading fabrics, making thread, and other activities consumed my waking hours as I lived alongside Brianus.
My day-to-day has become…comfortable? There was a simple routine for each day, allowing me to work at my own comfort level without any pressure to do more than needed. I didn’t have a constant feeling of impending death; amazing what not being in the military will do for you. I coasted through hours, enjoying the hidden aspects of the world in which I live. However, some things never change; I still continue to wake up at the first sign of dawn.
I suppose Brianus has a hand in this new easy life of mine. Having someone to talk to, eat with, and generally see everyday provides a steady presence throughout the day. I know that at the end of the day we will both retire to our individual beds mere paces from one another, sleeping among the quiet peace we created together. I don’t think I have ever felt this way with anyone ever.
After covering the entire tunic with the leather polish, I grab a rag on the other end of the workbench, attempting to get as much of the polish off of myself as possible. The greasy finish tends to seep into the patterns of your fingers, outlining each swirl darkly. Most of the stain had already laid across my skin for quite some time, proving more difficult to remove. Hopefully, a bath will solve this issue.
The hut door bursts open loudly with Brianus striding through. He rushes to his bed, lowering himself and rifling through the gap between the bottom of the bed and the floor. Drawing out a small box, his hands quickly fly through the box. Giving up, Brianus moves away from the bed and begins to pace around the hut, muttering to himself and running his hands through his tossled hair. This is certainly a first.
“Everything okay?” I break his frenzied trance, causing his wide hazel eyes to focus upon my frame at his workbench. “Oh, um,” he stutters, continuing to run his fingers through his red locks, gripping at the roots. “My black tunic isn’t with the rest of my clothes, and I don’t think I brought any other nice clothes from home, but I seriously need to wear something nice, and it’s hot out, so I’m all sweaty, but I just took a bath earlier this morning, and I seriously do not want to take another one, and my hair is a fucking mess .”
Through his complicated rambling, Brianus becomes more and more agitated and anxious, walking through small paces again. I ask as I stand up from my stool, “What is really making you so frazzled?”
Brianus sighs, pinching the skin between his eyebrows in frustration. “I just came from the tribe meeting, and the chief wants to see me. He says that he has to determine who can really benefit the war effort. If the chief deems my contribution insufficient, then he’ll send me home. If he sends me home, then I’ll lose the hut, and I can’t guarantee your safety which I had promised you.”
I let the news roll over me. This is certainly not a part of the routine. Trying to figure out all of the possible solutions, all that remained was what Brianus could do to prove himself. No wonder he’s freaking out; this is all on his shoulders. In my silence, Brianus groaned, probably thinking that I also had no clue how to figure out this situation.
“Uh okay,” I finally said. “When do you have to meet the chief?” Depending on the amount of time to prepare, this might turn out better than Brianus believes. “Like about 2 hours?” He seemed unsure. Two hours is enough time. I can fix this.
“Sit,” I commanded, pointing to the bed. His cheeks flushed a deep pink, almost hiding his freckles, “What?” I merely furrowed my eyebrows. “I said, sit ,” I repeated again, putting more emphasis in my voice. It clearly did the trick because Brianus gently sat down on the hay mattress, the material bending under his weight.
I quickly gazed around the room, frantically searching. “Where’s your brush?” I asked, still gazing around the room. “What?” Brianus questioned again; is he broken? My eyes snapped to his; I didn’t have time for his curiosity. Regardless, if we only had two hours, we still needed to act fast.
“Are you going to ask me that everytime I speak to you?” It came out harsher than intended. The tension became thick in the hut; a blade could have sliced through it. He merely pointed to the workbench, indicating what I needed was there. I swiped the brush off of the table, inspecting its condition. The bristles from horse hair were a little fraud, but otherwise there was no immediate damage. This would do.
I positioned myself behind Brianus, kneeling on the mattress. I put the brush beside me, gathering all of his hair behind his shoulders, causing him to slightly turn in confusion. I glared at him, hoping he wouldn't say a word, but he merely just turned face away from mine. I scooted closer, allowing my knees to brush his lower back. Grabbing the brush, I started running the bristles through his ratty locks, trying to get all the tangles that he caused out.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” He swings his body around to look at me, yelling at the first touch of the brush. I furrowed my eyebrows; this will take all day if he continues to refuse me. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m brushing your hair, dumbass.”
“Absolutely not!” Brianus leans away, trying to gather all of his hair far away from my reach. Why is he being so difficult? He’s gonna be the reason he’s late or unpresentable.
“Will you just let me fucking help you?!” I exclaim back at a higher volume, ultimately shutting him up. Finally, I can actually make something pierce through his thick skull. He sighs in defeat, moving so that he was facing away from me like before with my knees touching his back again.
“What exactly is a proper hairstyle to appear in front of a chief?” I asked. Brianus didn’t respond for a few moments, allowing me to run my fingers through his hair so that there weren't any hidden tangles underneath his thick hair. “I suppose anything that’s out of my face. Braids are common as well.”
I hummed in acknowledgment, continuing to brush his hair. To thoroughly ascertain that his hair was completely untangled, I started brushing from underneath the mass of hair. Immediately, I was met with restriction, causing the brush to barely move. “This is going to hurt,” I warned. I didn’t really give Brianus a chance to respond before I quickly swiped through the knot, reverbing a horrible ripping noise.
“ OW! ” He shouted, holding the back of his head where the knot was. “What the hell was that for?” “That was for making this a harder job than it needed to be because you kept running your hands through it,” I remarked, continuing my work. He didn’t say anything after that, slightly grumbling to himself. The rest of the brushing resumed without much struggle; that knot was the only one that deemed itself difficult.
After finishing up, I put the brush away. I gathered all the hair in front of me, lightly running my fingers through the silky red. Brianus had well-kept hair based off of the soft texture. “Where do you keep your pins?” I ask, still fiddling with his hair. “Um,” he stutters. “Should be one on the workbench.” I flicked my gaze, determining exactly where he meant. I strode over, gathering as many bronze hair pins as I could. Returning back to the bed, I parted a portion of his hair, beginning the braid at the edge of his hairline.
Weaving the strands together, I added more hair as I continued further down the braid. It was finally peaceful again with him silent and me intently working. However, that silence did not remain for long. After a few moments of finishing the first braid with a pin to hold it in place and starting on the second, Brianus brought part of the finished product forward for him to see, inspecting my work on his hair.
“I didn’t know you could braid,” he stated, slightly impressed. A grin twitched at my lips, “You never asked.” Brianus scoffed at my remark, still fidgeting with the finished braid between his fingers. “You don’t exactly seem the type.” I faked a gasp at his dig, pretending to be offended, “Oh, why is that? Haven’t you ever heard it’s improper to assume?”
This incited a breathy laugh from Brianus, eliciting a flutter in my stomach. “Well, I don’t see you braiding your hair everyday,” he uttered. “Where did you learn? Do soldiers like their hair braided for battle?” a joking tone escaping his mouth.
“Not exactly,” I spoke, almost finished with the second braid. “Before I was a servant of the Roman military, I was a servant of a Roman family.” I paused, fastening the second braid with a different pin. Now, I started a twist at his hairline, grabbing only two strands instead of three. “When I was younger, I always felt the need to work. Even when we were given breaks, which was rare, I wouldn’t take them. I had this obligation to constantly be doing something. So, when the ancillae were busy with more important, time-consuming tasks, I did the little jobs for which they did not have the time to do. One of those jobs was brushing and doing the hair for the women and girls of the family.” I paused, fastening the twist that reached all the way down his tattooed back, reaching the length of the other two braids.
“Trends come and go quickly in Roman society, which left me constantly trying to keep up with the desires of what the girls wanted each day, forcing me to learn all kinds of styles,” I explained. “Eventually, as many do, I grew up, becoming a more important servant among the lot that served them. I attended patron-client meetings, conversations with members of the Senate, and other official activities in Roman society, requiring me from doing less of my household jobs to more political ones, eventually landing me as the family’s sponsor in the army. I adopted their name and became Marcius Darius Septimius.”
“However,” I twirled one of his locks through my fingers, appreciating how the red burned orange when the light caught it. “I appear to not have forgotten how to do these styles. It feels like I haven’t stopped.” Silence envelops the room again. I begin another braid at the crown of Brianus’ head. “It seems like it,” was all that left his mouth. Moving around to a quarter of the braid, I asked, “Who taught you how to braid? Or were you self-taught?”
Brianus giggled at the question, “Oh I am certainly not self-taught.” He shifted his position on the mattress. “Back home, it was only my two sisters and I; our parents were never really present, at least emotionally. Seeing I was the only man in the family, they thought that I should just figure life out for myself, not bothering to actually teach me how to survive. We also just had… differing views”
My hands stall a little while braiding at his statement. That seems utterly idiotic; how is a child supposed to immediately know how to do things? Learning takes time and patience. We all aren’t born with the skills needed to fight in this world. He continues, “my sisters taught me everything I know from hunting, to swimming, to leather-working, to even braiding their hair. I’m sure they made me braid their hair because they were too lazy to do it themselves, but I actually enjoyed the process. As I got older, I grew out my hair, so I could braid it myself.”
I finished the final braid, bringing all of the hair, braided and unbraided together, leaving only the braid that started at the crown out of the mass. Twisting the red locks, braided, twisted, or left loose, I turned the mass into a bun. Holding the bun in place, I wrapped the braid that was left out around the bun, using it as a ribbon to hold it in place. Finally, I fastened the braid with two bronze pins, allowing the copper color to blend with Brianus’ fiery hair.
“Alright, I’m finished,” I reached behind me and pulled a bronze mirror, handing it to him. Even if he could only see in the shade of orange the bronze reflected, Brianus awed at the bun. “Wow,” he breathed out. “This seems so intricate.” He moves to touch the bun lightly, almost afraid the slightest graze will undo it.
“Thanks?” I lightly laugh at the comment. He fully turns to me know, demonstrating more tattoos that litter his chest. “I’m serious, Marcius,” he states firmly. “This is incredibly detailed.” My name from his lips produces a rush of heat to my cheeks. The way he says it always makes my stomach do somersaults ever since I told him it was my real name.
Suddenly, I felt something squeeze my shoulder. I looked over, seeing Brianus’ hand inked with vines firmly gripping me. I focused my gaze to meet his, his eyes shining a sincere light in their hazel color. “Thank you for all of this,” he claims, eyes still locked on mine. “For fixing my hair and helping me calm down. I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest, but I appreciate it.” I didn’t say anything, merely matching his intense stare with my own.
“Uh, yeah. Hold on, I just remembered something,” I quickly move off of the bed, exiting to hut. Following around to the back, I snatch the black tunic that Brianus had mentioned before; I forgot I mixed it in with the wash earlier that day. Thank the gods above, it was dry. Entering back inside, I chucked the piece of clothing at him, landing it right into his lap. “As much as all of the camp would love to see you walk out of here without a shirt on, I think it’s best if you were a little modest when meeting with your chief,” I playfully remark.
Brianus eyes widen at my statement, a deep pink stains his cheeks. “Uh—where was it?” His voice cracks. I shrugged, “I accidentally washed it earlier today. It should be dry by now.” He nods, slipping the tunic on as he moves closer to the exit of the hut.
“Thanks again, Marcius,” he repeats, gripping my shoulder again but more delicately, lighting my skin on fire. “I’ll tell you how it goes.” I nod, but before I could wish him luck, Brianus was already out the door, disappearing among the swarm of other Britons. Sighing, I return back to Brianus’ bed, sitting at the edge. Thinking for a moment, something wasn’t right. My eyes widened as the last few moments of our conversation resounded through my head.
Did I just say that I liked him shirtless?!