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saiyuki_wk_auTitle: Oh, Happy Rome
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daegaer
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Rating: G
Challenge: Roman AU
Warnings – none
Wordcount: 373
Summary: Making their way in imperial Rome, four young men with unusual powers aim for a better position in life.
Notes: Part of a series of short fics putting Schwarz in Nero's Rome. Three drabbles and three tanka.
The title is taken from a quote of Marcus Tullius Cicero, Oh happy Rome, born when I was consul!
I
Rome was disgusting. Sesithacus no longer felt ill as he shoved his way through crowds, but sometimes there was a breeze that smelt fresh, and he would think despairingly how he hated being used to the smell of so much olive oil, to the press of so many thoughts. He was going to run for home, he was never going to talk to a crazed Briton again -
A girl smiled at him; her arms were plumply pretty. Sesithacus thought hard at her how much she’d like to try a Teuton.
On the other hand, he thought, Rome wasn’t all bad.
II
He could no longer see the flight of birds or the stars, but it didn’t matter; others were his eyes. Caratacus sat on the hilltop with Sesithacus beside him, describing the wheeling flock before them.
“I think they’re starlings. Or pigeons. Maybe sparrows, or eagles very far off,” Sesithacus said, sounding bored.
Caratacus laughed. There would be excitement for all, soon enough. That night he climbed onto the rooftop alone, and sat, face upturned to the sky. The night was black for him, no points of light visible. He closed his eyes and saw the future in clear, sharp colours.
III
There were more people in Rome than in any dún, all pushing and jostling as if they were alive, as if death were not amongst them. Februus found that funny. He found it funny, too, how he could look back at Ulaidh, at the great dún of Macha’s Twins, remembering it not as the wonder that left him gasping at its might but as - a little hill, he thought. And Conchobar sitting on it like he thinks he’s the High King of the Romans.
Februus laughed, childlike. The Romans would die as easily as the men of the Five Kingdoms.
IV
No spring cuckoo sings
She soars east like the sun
Her young left in other’s care.
The gods of heaven and earth
Leave him, lone, to other gods.
Summer in reed-plains
Sweeter far than harsh brick walls
Jewels of heaven:
Sister-wife, children, pure home
Lost amidst tears of sorrow.
Autumn’s grass yellows
The mournful exile’s pillow
No child to ease grief -
Sunlight brightens, down she steps
Best of daughters, voice like fire.
Author:
daegaerFandom: Weiß Kreuz
Rating: G
Challenge: Roman AU
Warnings – none
Wordcount: 373
Summary: Making their way in imperial Rome, four young men with unusual powers aim for a better position in life.
Notes: Part of a series of short fics putting Schwarz in Nero's Rome. Three drabbles and three tanka.
The title is taken from a quote of Marcus Tullius Cicero, Oh happy Rome, born when I was consul!
Rome was disgusting. Sesithacus no longer felt ill as he shoved his way through crowds, but sometimes there was a breeze that smelt fresh, and he would think despairingly how he hated being used to the smell of so much olive oil, to the press of so many thoughts. He was going to run for home, he was never going to talk to a crazed Briton again -
A girl smiled at him; her arms were plumply pretty. Sesithacus thought hard at her how much she’d like to try a Teuton.
On the other hand, he thought, Rome wasn’t all bad.
He could no longer see the flight of birds or the stars, but it didn’t matter; others were his eyes. Caratacus sat on the hilltop with Sesithacus beside him, describing the wheeling flock before them.
“I think they’re starlings. Or pigeons. Maybe sparrows, or eagles very far off,” Sesithacus said, sounding bored.
Caratacus laughed. There would be excitement for all, soon enough. That night he climbed onto the rooftop alone, and sat, face upturned to the sky. The night was black for him, no points of light visible. He closed his eyes and saw the future in clear, sharp colours.
There were more people in Rome than in any dún, all pushing and jostling as if they were alive, as if death were not amongst them. Februus found that funny. He found it funny, too, how he could look back at Ulaidh, at the great dún of Macha’s Twins, remembering it not as the wonder that left him gasping at its might but as - a little hill, he thought. And Conchobar sitting on it like he thinks he’s the High King of the Romans.
Februus laughed, childlike. The Romans would die as easily as the men of the Five Kingdoms.
No spring cuckoo sings
She soars east like the sun
Her young left in other’s care.
The gods of heaven and earth
Leave him, lone, to other gods.
Summer in reed-plains
Sweeter far than harsh brick walls
Jewels of heaven:
Sister-wife, children, pure home
Lost amidst tears of sorrow.
Autumn’s grass yellows
The mournful exile’s pillow
No child to ease grief -
Sunlight brightens, down she steps
Best of daughters, voice like fire.
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