All Roads Lead to Romance (TheNymphet & RunningDutchman)

[Running Dutchman]

"Fuck, not again!" The agonized cry was accompanied with a heavy slam on the rudimentary table that was set up right outside the soldier's tents. It was a true wonder the crates didn't break right there and then, but a pair of dice were launched unto the muddy ground.

"You owe me three months pay now, Silas," one cheery voice proclaimed. Felix, the clear victor of today's gambling, threw back his cup in celebration. Giving a grunt of displeasure at the taste of the cheap wine, he gestured to his comrades for a refill. Otho, who as per usual had made a rather large dent into the contents of the jug he was holding, happily obliged. "Another round boys?" asked Felix, feeling good about his luck, as he bent over to pick up the dice. In all honesty the soldiers barely even kept count of how much money they won or lost. They just wanted something to take their minds of the hot summer sun bearing down on the encampment. The fortifications were out in the middle of the wilderness, thick forests completely surrounding the palisaded clearing. They were so isolated out here, that there was absolutely nothing to do, not even a bathhouse or a brothel to visit. Besides who won today, could lose tomorrow, a truth in regards to their lives as much as their coin.

"Legionaries." As soon as the curt greeting was called out the soldiers jumped into position like a loose spring. Suddenly the dice lie forgotten and wine spilled over the table as a disregarded cup rolled over.

"Centurion!" the legionaries replied to the passing commander in unison without missing a beat. Perhaps it was an odd belief, but these men truly believed their captain, the centurion of the Sixth Cohort of the Legion of Jupiter, was Mars reincarnated. The soldiers were always whispering about new rumors and legends surrounding the exploits of Constatine Atticus of Byzantine. Some might recognize the adoration as a coping mechanism since trust in their leader was essential for survival during the heat and chaos of battle. Those doubters would be quick to discount the many tall tales, which often lay far beyond the realm of the possible.

As soon as the tall figure of the centurion was gone from sight the men sank down unto their seats, huddling together. "You guys are going to want to know what I heard about the centurion recently!" Silas said excitedly, instantly claiming his fellows' attention. "I know this guy stationed in the Legion in Trier and he told me how the centurion faced down a whole horde of Germans all by himself-"

The words didn't even really register in Constatine's ears as he moved on. He had gotten used to the soldiers gossiping wherever he went. It was one of few forms of entertainments the soldiers had in the many stale days stationed in the camp. Besides, it didn't hurt morale either, so he made no efforts to dispel the rumors. In any case, Constantine had bigger worries that laid heavy on his mind. It was his sole responsibility to keep his men alive, and the threats lay as much inside the Roman castra as outside. That damned legate, Wenceslaus Senecus, had his eyes set on a position in the Senate. His delirious ambition in politics led him to make questionable decisions in the pursuit of glory, which had and would still cost the lives of many a loyal soldier. Just now the centurion was returning from another meeting of the 'council of conquest', as Senecus had dubbed it. No matter how often Constatine had petitioned for prioritizing proper supply lines and Roman infrastructure, the legate just wanted to push further into the barbarian lands.

Reaching his quarters, a large wooden barrack instead of the normal shared tent the legionaries occupied, he pulled off his plumed helmet and undid the far-too-heavy cloak. With a heavy sigh he sat down at his desk rubbing his temples when suddenly loud trumpets blew through the castra. For a moment he listened to the tune and pattern, recognizing the call for approaching Roman armies. Those must be the Second through the Fifth cohorts returning after their raid. Word had been sent ahead that the attack had been successful, or so Wenceslaus had declared. The casualties and wounded of the expedition hadn't been reported yet though…

Constantine stood up and stretched, his leather armor, reinforced with iron strips, croaking as his large frame extended. After moving to the corner of the room he threw his hands in a bowl, bending down before quickly flicking the water across his face to refresh his mind. The water dribbled through the thick, dark beard and his fingers touched the skin of his cheeks, finding those few familiar scars. They were nothing grotesque, but they were valuable reminders of the many close encounters with death. Standing up and putting back on the cloak and helmet, he moved back out to go welcome to the returning heroes. The legion would celebrate their victory, divide the loot and honor the fallen. Constatine feared how much damage the legate had managed to cause this time. There really was no rest for the wicked…

 

[TheNymphet]

The air had grown volatile.

They had been patiently waiting for the day to come when peace was obstructed. The clans naturally fought. There was no enduring time of no-conflict but there had always been whispers of something bigger than them on the horizon. Even with warnings of their arrival, they descended so fast and with so much force that it was a struggle to even grab the weapons that had been created in the forge. The evening had descended into red and black. Smoke dotted the sky and blood was spilled on the land. Some people ran and managed to run far away. Others were slain.

And then there stood the few like Gisela, bent in chains as the strangers walked around them and placed metal on their hands.

She had been the daughter of the clan leader. Not so simple, but engaged in the clan's well-being and worked on ensuring the weapon production was up to par. But they had taken her now. Her father was dead - others close to him either dead or dying. Their hands laid heavily on her tattered clothes as they yanked her forward. And as she sniffed the air she knew there would be no point in fighting them. More than anything she feared the ones that turned with narrowed eyes to look at her, leaning in close to sniff her hair and neck before one let out a low whistle.

"Well, well, well... We got an omega on our hands." He grinned. "Hey, bet the General will be impressed with her... We can make a nice wage if we offer up such fine loot..."

"Keep her close then, make sure he knows we captured the minx."

"Right pretty one too, isn't she?" One of their hands trailed across her cheek and up to her brow. Her eyes shot up in a glower as a dark strand was pulled out of her face. Her hair swung erratically, the curves of her body barely covered by her clothes. They yanked her through the woods and into the camp, stumbling and snarling in an attempt to get away. Pulling harshly at her bonds she noticed as the Romans turned to look at her as they brought her forth to their general. It wasn't everyday one caught an omega, after all, and they set forth to calling for him to see their presence with a promise of a surprise they were sure would be well-received.

 

[Running Dutchman]

The news had spread through the camp like a wildfire jumping from tent to tent and in no-time a thick crowd had gathered at the Northern gates. The spectators were standing in the form of a crescent, leaving open only the road in the middle. Amidst the road stood the welcoming committee formed out of the legate and a few other high ranking officers. Wenceslaus was wearing an even more smug than usual grin as he watched the approaching cohorts. Schemes and plots flashed through the general's mind as he prayed to every God, whom's name he knew, that the reports from the messengers were true. If even the lowly soldiers, the filthy rabble, reacted to the rumor of an Omega like this, he could only imagine how the civilized world would respond. That barbarian woman would serve to prove he was the ultimate Alpha after all. The bards would surely finally compose songs about the Great Conquest of Senecus and every prefect or senator's wife would throw herself at him. Yes, Wenceslaus would be envy of the whole of Rome!

Approaching the throngs, Constatine quickly inspected the scene, easily towering over many of the men present. Seeing that narcissistic bastard of a legate standing there all pumped up, made him struggle to keep his composure. However, it did make him wonder what the occasion was. Every battle won was a battle worth celebrating, but did it really warrant such attention? To his surprise even Constatine had trouble making his way through the masses as the soldiers' eyes were glued to the band of warriors marching up. Not minding the temporary anonymity in the slightest the centurion decided to make his way through the back rows, following the curved line until he would end up on the road as well. As he weaved a path the gathered men were clamoring among each other and Constatine caught snippets of their squabbling.

"There's simply no way the reports are true! What do they know, those idiots aren't even capable of seeing the difference between a horse and a dog."
"No, I swear, they actually found one!"
"Bullshit, you've let all those myths and fables go to your head, I doubt they even exist..."
"They exist alright, in fact, I've heard the Caesar recently send one to a Sultan's harem. It drove the Sultan so mad with lust, he signed away his whole kingdom just for another night with her!"
"Quit japping already, Omega's aren't more than just misunderstood village-idiots."

The Romans were a superstitious lot and so every soldier had his own theory on what an Omega was, every one more terrifying or lewd than the next. In reality none of those legionaries had ever seen an Omega, just always heard stories of them. Of course Constatine didn't know much better. He just knew how incredibly scarce the Omega's had become the past centuries. Their exclusivity alone made them a valuable commodity for the rich and powerful, and the folklore only added to the allure. Suddenly the puzzle pieces were falling on their proper places. The captured Omega was the reason the legate had looked so excited...

"Legate," Constatine said respectfully when he came up to the party on the road. He might not have liked the man, but he'd respect the chain of command as was drilled into him all these years in the army. The general didn't pay him any mind, not even sparing a nod acknowledging his presence. Ignoring the blatant disregard for protocol, the centurion stepped back and joined the other officers. Most of them were highborn bootlickers, mere lackeys of the legate, who hadn't seen a single real battle. However there were some real friends among the group as well with whom Constatine shared some appreciative smiles. The first legionaries were passing through the gate, trailing wagons with plunder behind them. The Ceremony of Return was starting!

While the army marched through the hot and dusty streets of the Roman fort the spectators cheered on the marching soldiers. The officers that had led the raid approached the welcoming party. The highest ranking centurion sat down on one knee before the legate and started his formal report. "Legate, we return from our crusade against the barbarians victorious. Though they preyed on us in every hour and we, the Roman Legion, pushed forwards and slew any who'd dare oppose us." The captain made it sound like the raid had been far more than mere raids on unprepared and disorganized villages...

"We return with what we have taken for Rome and the Roman Empire and present to you the bounty." From their wagons they pulled sacks of grain and produce, cutting some open and offering them to the legate. They presented a number of the weapons they had taken from the barbarians, before finally pushing forward the conquered slaves. One in specific was yanked forward, the soldiers throwing her down on her knees in front of Senecus. Though the slave was heavily chained the legionaries kept their distance, carefully handling their weapons.

Even Constantine scoffed at the way the soldiers were warily eyeing their most valuable prize. The way the men looked at her differed from person to person. Some of them seemed terrified of her like she wore a contagious disease, others looked worried like she might invoke ancient heathen powers to break off her shackles right there and then before releasing a deadly charm on every soul present, but then there were some that looked down on her in pure, unadulterated lust. Those men kept their distance too, because they knew they simply wouldn't be able to restrain themselves if they got close to her, smelled her or touched her. The army must have been marching for some time now and Constantine couldn't help but marvel at how the woman had managed to reach the fort at all with those pent-ups grunts surrounding her.

Granted he stood a fair distance away from the Omega, his dark blue eyes inspected her thoroughly. Her worn down clothes did little to hide her figure or her physique. The woman was pretty, could potentially even be beautiful, but all things considered the girl on the ground did little to impress the veteran centurion. Maybe it was just a young man's game of which he had grown weary of a long time ago, but the stories of the Omega's powers of seduction on an Alpha clearly were nothing but a myth. Perhaps this turn of events had been a blessing in disguise. If this woman really could give Senecus the political power he so dearly craved, he'd finally go back to Rome and leave the legion in more capable hands. With that thought Constantine suddenly a grew a lot fonder of that stranger planted in the dirt. But then he lost himself in her eyes...

For a moment the whole world turned upside down as Constantine fell into that stare. It felt like he truly saw her now, the dancing lights and shadows on her skin, every disheveled strand of hair and each curve of her glorious body, which would put even Venus to shame. Every hair on his own body raised in an instant, his breath falling short, he felt a shudder travel through his whole body. Gods, obviously it was utterly impossible, but it seemed like he could even smell her heavenly scent from all the way over there. Suddenly realizing what was happening he dragged his eyes away. Finally drawing in a deep breath he shook his head as to shake off any possible enchantments that woman could have placed on him. The centurion thrived when he felt in control, when he felt powerful. Anything or anyone that could effect him like that truly scared him. Careful not to spare her a second glance, he peered around, studying the other men in her presence. Now he could place the wary stares he had noted before, but still, none seemed to be as heavily affected as he had been. Disregarding it as just being too tired and him imagining things, he focused on the legate, who was now commanding for the woman to be held in his personal quarters. Yes, let Senecus play at his plots and schemes. The sooner he was gone the better. Constantine didn't want anything to do with that woman, absolutely nothing!

 

[TheNymphet]

The dirt beneath her knees reached up as she was thrown forward. The Roman camp was crowded and bustling with men pushing against one another to see the bounty brought in. Slaves were chained and their riches were looted. Her dark hair swept over her face and back as the line was pulled taut and her body lurched forward, hands brought up away from her body to be forced to display herself to the man in question. She could see his dark smile as he looked her up and down. His plans were unquestioned. There was a simple understanding that for an Alpha, owning an Omega was a sign of great wealth and prosperity. The lust and abilities they had to simply conjure up sexual pleasure was unmatched purely through the make up of their bodies. Being surrounded by so many men she looked around beneath her dark lashes. She was protected in the clan for that very reason. Her father kept her sheltered, especially men born Alphas were not allowed around her. Only betas and women.

Being surrounded by so many men, who were lecherous and she knew would be happy to see her beaten and bloodied... It was borderline terrifying. It was as though she could hear some of their thoughts as they jostled attempting to get a closer look. She hissed low in her throat in an attempt to scare them away, yanking at the chains but being no match. Her body was built smaller. Meaker. She was not supposed to be in combat - nor was she supposed to protect the pack.

There was a natural gentleness to her that she rejected again and again. Despite how small she was, she knew how to fight. She knew how to fend for herself. Anf she hated that her biological make up was supposed to decide how she lived her life.

But something happened.

She felt it stir deep within as her heart thudded and she felt a sudden burst of warmth through her chest. There was a twisting need to bow her head and submit. Below she felt herself grow damp invoking a certain need to come over her. There was a flush on her cheeks as she began to pant. An aching need started dull and she refused to see it through. Who had started that in her? She was intune with herself and the very make-up of her body. Being unmated, she was practically begging anyone to take her with her scent. Her eyes flickered over the crowd, attempting to find who it was. Someone attempted to touch her. A man was coming too close and she turned and bit down hard on the meat of his hand until she felt blood bloom on her tongue.

He screamed and jerked away, prying her jaws loose as she turned wildly.

"I'm no one's slave!" she cried out as she jerked in her chains again. "I belong to no one you- you horrid men!"

The chains yanking her pulled more incessantly, taking her to the personal quarters of the general as she fought wildly the entire way.

 

[Running Dutchman]

The whole crowd, even Senecus, was shocked by the slave's sudden outburst. Rebellious slaves were nothing new, but the sudden switch from the subjugated woman to this crazy, screaming mess had been so dramatic that everyone couldn't help but stare in fascination. "Restrain her!" Senecus cried out, his voice slightly breaking. Not that he cared if the woman bit or even killed every man holding her, but such a public scene wouldn't do at all. "Get her out of here!" Senecus snarled to the now wounded soldier, adding 'You useless moron!' in his mind. Constantine couldn't help but chuckle at the whole show.

'That fucking bitch!' The outrage was clear on Cassius' face as he pulled Gisela along by her chains. 'How dare she bite him!' She was nothing but a filthy barbarian, while he was a member of the Great Guard. Those elite soldiers were primarily responsible for the safety of the legate himself, but they also functioned as informal oversight throughout the entire army. The soldiers stationed in the camp despised the so called Great Guard, seeing them as nothing but rats and spies and making them outcasts among most of their peers. It was in this capacity that Cassius had also accompanied the recent raids. Of course he had't been on the frontlines, no, the eyes and ears of the legate just spied from a safe distance. Then suddenly the omega had been found, what an incredible stroke of luck! When Gisela was first captured, it was him who made sure the omega was kept in relatively pristine condition. Keeping a watchful eye, the guardsman had made sure the rowdy soldiers escorting the savages were constantly being rotated. Cassius was far too ambitious to let some random, horny legionnaire spoil the prize. Things had been carefully orchestrated to make sure Senecus would recognize his efforts too. It had been him, who had brought the first report of the omega. It had been him, who was supposed to have taken the slave into the personal custody of the legate. However, instead of gracefully receiving the tribute, she had humiliated him in front of everyone, and most notably the legate, by chomping right into his hand.

Now the guards were escorting the slave to the personal holding cells of the Great Guard. Gisela certainly wouldn't be the first captured slave to await a visit there from the general, or whomever had earned his favor that particular day... The men next to her fought tooth and nail to contain the woman, since she struggled wildly to get free. Suddenly turning back, Cassius roughly pulled on the chain, sending the tiny frame barreling forwards, only to have him slap her right in the face. There couldn't be any bruises, not yet anyways, but the smack would serve to daze the disobedient slave. The loud slap ringing out was even more satisfying than he had dared hope. "Stop fighting, you stupid whore!" he shouted harshly at Gisela. Eyeing the other guards, he reined in his anger, but continued bitterly "Know your place, slave. No matter what you think, you are nothing but the legate's property now. The earlier you come to accept this the better."

Back at the Northern gate the masses were slowly dispersing. The returning warriors were welcomed back by their friends and quickly set off to enjoy some of that infamous wine together. The men sat in front of their tents sharing stories of battle and of home. Some made music, singing songs accompanied by simple flutes, clapping hands and stomping feet. Soon a merry atmosphere hung over Fort Tiberinus. Constantine also retreated to his quiet tent. There was still so much to do and the sun had already started to set. There were still those horribly inaccurate maps of the region to study and a heap of reports to go through. His mind was constantly spinning, but with good reason. Now that the main forces had returned, the captain feared that soon the general would gather the Council of Conquest again, with dire consequences.

The next morning it was an early rise for the centurion, as well as for every Roman soldier. It was time for their weekly 'surprise' inspection. The officers would do rounds and make sure everyone's gear was accounted for and properly maintained. Early on in the campaign Constantine had asked the centurion of the Seventh, Marcellus, to rotate with him. That way the inspections would be objective and the punishments be fair. It also prevented animosity among the legion towards their own captains. As per usual there were some hungover idiots that had misplaced a sword or a spear, which earned them the feared latrine cleaning duties. This time there weren't any egregious mishaps in the Seventh nor in the Sixth. If morale was low or if there were a consistent lot of incidents, the punishments would have been far more severe. Constantine didn't particularly like giving corporeal punishments, but discipline and order must be maintained. Consumed by duties the days quickly bled into the next. Through some effort in working the back channels he got the full report on the raids. The number of the fallen, as well as the number of unrecovered bodies was staggeringly high for the type of mission. Constantine couldn't shake this eerie feeling of upcoming disaster. Sometimes he accidentally found himself back at the gates, like that fated day, staring at the ground where the young barbarian slave had charmed him so. The matter of fact military man didn't put much stock in superstition, but he himself felt utterly bewitched. He wondered intensely about how she fared, whether the legate was attempting to turn her into a reputable Roman lady or whether his approach was as brutish as always. Sometimes, much to his dismay, he caught himself wishing the general would summon him as to maybe catch just a glimpse of the woman...