vigorli

Title: The King's Ransom
Author: fra
Pairing: Many and varied. Viggo/Orli primarily.
Rating: Mature
Warning AR (alternative reality/wishfully historical)
Summary: Meanwhile, in the enemy camp, the plot thickens.
Feedback: Is the lifeblood of my creative spirit. (just kidding)
Email: fra_hulettaes@yahoo.com
Word count: 4544
Archived/crossposted: vigorli, carefullykissed, orlandoslash, fra_fiction, and Viggoriously yahoo group.
Disclaimer: fic·tion (fĭk'shən)n.
An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. If I knew any of these guys, I'd be hanging out with them instead of sitting here writing this. None of this is real. It's pretend. I made it up. It's a story.
Beta: Beta by beppie but I added stuff so any mistakes are mine. Thanks bebbie!
Author's Notes: I'm now going to do the Romans what I did to early German history. My profound apologies. And thank you to all who emailed and posted with historical tips and questions. I really love that sort of feedback. If your tip isn't in the story, please don't take it personally cause it's not meant that way. I'm chiefly interested in telling a story about characters and I've skimped on historicity to do it. Some of you will be pulled out of the story by that. I hope you'll read anyway.

Part 1: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fra_fiction/1164.html#cutid1

fra

2005

Vellos Arenas' clerk, Pallas, was a round little slave from southern Rome who was a marvel of quiet efficiency and had a wickedly amusing sense of humor.

More than once the slave had observed the men in his command and had later offered excellent advice. It was Pallas' persuasion that prompted Arenas to send a few men to track down his errant, headstrong Centurion, Orlanus. And it wasn't the first time.

"A messenger from Rome, My Lord." Pallas announced.

"Show him in, Pallas." Arenas waved to the door without looking up. The sound of footsteps followed ending with the crisp slapping of a salute and a sharp "Sir."

Arenas continued his correspondence putting the final flourish to his name and handed the document to Pallas to be sealed. The soldier stood ramrod straight before him, a young man, travel stained with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Arenas darted a glance at Pallas who shared a concerned look with him then looked back at the soldier. The soldier's weariness indicated haste and haste, meant trouble. He feared that forces in Rome were moving. There was only one noble Roman in his cohort… and that was Orlanus.

He shook his head. That boy was nearly more trouble than he was worth. Nearly. He was a good soldier; well trained but he was not the favorite of Fortune.

"Pallas, some wine. Our young visitor looks about to drop from fatigue." Arenas smiled his enigmatic smile and gestured to the low divan near his make shift desk. "Sit, before you fall down."

The soldier nodded wearily and sank to the divan with a sigh.

Arenas rose and went to Pallas as he poured the wine. "Go quietly and find Csokas." He whispered. "We must get to Orlanus before the others." Pallas nodded, served the soldier his wine and quietly slipped out of the long scarlet tent.

Arenas went through the flat, heavy bag from Rome and quickly found what he looked for and dreaded. He read the missive with growing anger. Antonius Lucius Delias was dead along with several other Senators and their servants.

Orlanus was now the head of his house. A senator if he was lucky enough to survive the journey back to Rome. Based on Arenas experience of Orlanus, his survival was unlikely. He lacked the soul shriveling cunning of his father and the knife edged intuition of his mother. He was, thought Arenas, too good.

Certainly he stood little chance against the opposition. If Delias was dead, then his family was as well and Orlanus would then be too great a threat. They would surely have sent someone to kill him.

"Csokas, My Lord," Pallas said from the doorway. The named soldier entered and stood before Arenas' table.

"Sir." He drawled, the term clearly not a pleasure on his tongue.

"Pallas, see that our messenger gets food and rest." Arenas waved to the young soldier and waited while the slave lead the tired messenger away.

"What has happened, Arenas?" Csokas fingered the stack of documents from Rome and lifted an eyebrow. "What news?"

Arenas ignored him. He owed this man no explanation and the only reason Arenas had called him was that he had been a northman himself. He spoke the language and knew how to deal like the northmen, and frankly if anyone could get Orlanus now, it was he.

"You are to go north. Now. Take whom ever you like with you and find Orlanus." He handed Csokas the letter and a leather bag containing an amount of gold coins. "Buy him bargain for him or steal him but get him back here." Arenas held the soldiers hard stare for a long moment.

"I want him alive, Csokas, and unharmed. You have until the first snow."

Csokas smiled a dark slow smile. "Sir." Turned on his heel and left the long low scarlet tent.

~~~~~~~~~

Boron's northern most border was a scrolling lazy green river, wide and slow and full of fish. Faran knew it like the back of his hands; every narrow, ford and wash. He rode the border for a week at a time once a lunar cycle with two of his men, just like all the other captains.

This day Faran followed a set of unknown tracks from the highest ford up to the dense forested crest of the closest mountains.

He caught first site of the scarlet cloaked soldier and his two slaves when the sun reached its zenith, its rays filtering long and green through the lowering pines.

He supposed he should not have been surprised to find Romans so far north. These men were looking for Viggo. And he knew what they wanted from him. Romans were loath to part with their own.

He was one of the few to agree with Boron to send the boy to Viggo. Of all the lords he knew, Viggo was the only one traveled, the only one with enough men, the only one who would 'value' such a gift.

And after years of battling for a small patch of green land, maybe now they could agree and come to peace over the Southfold.

Faran followed the soldiers for hours, nearly the entirety of the day before they made camp somewhat shy of Viggo's borders. The shadows were grown long by the time Faran's men found him. Four tall, quiet men. More brothers to him than his own.

Through the course of the night they watched the Roman fire wax and wane and listened to their oily talk and rude laughter. When Faran felt he'd heard enough he left two men to follow and fled with the remaining men, down the hill to the open glen of his brother's house.

~~~~~~~~~

Orlanus had been Viggo's captive for nearly a week.

Everyday Viggo would visit his room, usually in the afternoon, for conversation or chess or a light meal. The Roman seemed resigned to his fate and while he showed interest in Viggo during their time together he rarely smiled or laughed.

Viggo supposed that was to be expected. The man was a hostage, or so he thought, and the little he knew of the circumstances of Orlanus' capture told him that his welcome back in the Roman army would not be a pleasant one.

And while Viggo found his house comfortable, for a fighting man like Orlanus used to living in the field, this room must have lost it's charm long since.

This afternoon when he arrived in Orlanus room, he found only Karl eating a solitary meal near the long, narrow window.

He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room.

"He is in the bath. Again. Elly's with him." Karl smiled a weary smile. "I am clean enough for the rest of winter. Even my horse doesn't know me."

Viggo smiled and sat across from Karl. "I appreciate your sacrifice. Thank you. So, he bathes daily? I didn't know. Perhaps it reminds him of home." He stabbed the other half of Karl's apple and began slicing a piece off.

"And no, before you ask. He's the same. Not happy, not sad." Karl said.

Viggo nodded, said nothing. Inhaled to ask but Karl interrupted him.

"No," Karl said, and ate another bite. "He didn't ask about you."

Viggo laughed at his own awkwardness. "Enjoy your meal." He said, and stood to leave.

Karl nodded with his mouth full and Viggo left him in peace.

~~~~~~~~

The bath in Viggo's house was the lowest room closest to the river. The great stone bathhouses in the east were his inspiration. So upon his return and against the advice of his elders, he built it, though his was of wood and thatch and not stone.

There were a few bath women and men who kept stones hot and recycled them in the bottom of the huge, wooden tube and made sure no one drowned as most of them couldn't swim.

Viggo used it when he had the time. Even Ynn used it claiming it soothed his old bones. Secretly, Viggo knew the man was a devoted hedonist and simply enjoyed the relaxation and calm atmosphere, just as he enjoyed several of Viggo's soldiers on occasion, probably more than Viggo knew.

Amidst the swirling steam and murky light Viggo could just make out the rounded edge of tub. Elly was speaking, his tenor rising and falling and surprisingly soft.

~~~~~~~~~

"And your father? He's a warrior like you?" Elly asked gently.

Orlanus felt the knife twist of regret at his own actions. He was nothing like his father.

"No, no. My father was a great warrior. I am a pale reflexion of him, of what he was. I…" He lay back against the tub's edge and covered his eyes with his wet hand.

"I will be sent back to Rome, most likely to my family and made to marry some senator's ugly younger daughter and make sons." He snorted at the thought. "And perhaps, if I'm cunning enough, become a senator like my father."

His voice was less than confident and he realized how depressed he'd become, stranded in this forest choked demesne. He felt trapped between the consequences of his position and his actions. On the one hand return to the Army and punishment. On the other, banishment from the Army to Rome and a loveless marriage of convenience.

His belly was leaden, depriving him of his appetite and rendering the world grey and colorless. Even Viggo's visits, enjoyable as they were, held less attraction as the days droned on. He wanted to be finished, to end the not knowing and take the punishment and move on.

He looked at his guardian, dark hair wetted by steam, face soft with concern.

He was unearthly beautiful. Skin like milk, eyes like the sky and a soft, sweet mouth that Orlanus had tried to kiss once. He'd found himself looking at the rough wooden ceiling timbers with Karl's hand at the base of his throat. No words were exchanged nor needed to be. He never touched Elly again.

And he kept his mouth shut. Elly was more than happy to talk about himself or the house or tell him amusing stories about their daily practice in the stable yard. But when it came to his King, Elly silently discouraged Orlanus questions with a sad smile and shifted eyes.

Nor would he talk about Orlanus' future.

"Thank you, Elly." Orlanus looked at his new friend.

Elly quirked an elegant eyebrow at him.

"For what?"

"For treating me like a friend. I don't... I didn't..." Orlanus stuttered over the words, not exactly sure what he wanted to say. "Being a hostage is new to me. I don't know what to expect. When they will come for me. Or if."

The weight of recent experiences became suddenly heavy in his chest and he tightened his lips trying to keep his words of weakness in, to keep some semblance of dignity.

He must have gotten lost in thought for he jumped when Elly laid a hand on his shoulder and called his name a little louder than necessary. He realized Elly must have said it several times and tried to regain some measure of self-control.

"Your commander, Vellos, he has sent someone." Elly tightened his grip. "Karl's men watch for them now on our borders and though we are hard to find, he will make sure they arrive safely."

Orlanus met Elly's eyes.

"I..." Elly stammered. "I can't. Orlanus don't think that Viggo…" he was cut off by Viggo's quiet interruption.

"Don't think that Viggo what, Elly?"

Steam shifted and parted and Viggo stepped to the side of the tub and ruffled Elly's hair.

Orlanus was filled with dread. He hoped Elly would not be punished for his forwardness. Elly and he exchanged a solemn look.

"My Lord." Elly said and bent down to gather his things. "I... I didn't mean to,"

"Hush, wolfling. I know." Viggo curled a hand around Elly's arm and drew him out of his crouch. "Thank you." He kissed Elly's forehead and pushed him towards the outer door. "Go play."

Elly looked over his shoulder at Viggo and Orlanus as he scrambled up the outer steps and through the large wooden door.

"He is a good man. Please, do not punish him. He was trying to help me and…" He stopped talking when Viggo raised his hand, palm out, placating.

"I know he means well. He's just over protective. It seems I'll never break him of that." Viggo shook his head and smiled. After a moment he reached out and took his hand and turned it palm up.
"Do you have any skin left I wonder?"

Orlanus froze. The King had yet to touch him since that first day. Now, with his wet hand laid open in the King's grasp, he felt his breath hitch.

Viggo's hand was tapered, strong and brown. Not as brown as his but healthfully golden. And strong and cool compared to the bath water. He looked up at the King and their eyes met.

Viggo was nothing if not expressive. Orlanus thought him handsome though he was not the sort of man he normally desired and he was wary of allowing the King to take things further and ruin his chances to return to the Army.

He thought about his words to Elly and the ugly, elder Senators' daughter with whom he would have to make sons. It sent a shudder through him.

"Come, walk with me." Viggo said still holding his hand. Orlanus nodded, what else could he do, and allowed Viggo to help him from the bath.

If Viggo had a response to seeing all of him, wet and dripping, he hid it well. He took the long cloth that Viggo offered and quickly scrubbed the droplets of water from his skin before donning his borrowed clothing.

Viggo led him from the building and as they walked the wooded trail up from the town, Karl fell in behind them, far enough behind to provide privacy but close enough to ensure safety.

Orlanus couldn't help smiling at that and even chuckled. He was in no condition to strike at them. He was alone. And weaponless.
They must have high opinions of him indeed if they still viewed him as a threat.

"What amuses you?" Viggo asked.

"You must think me very dangerous. I go no where without two of your men. But I am weaponless. And alone. What danger do I pose to you?" He said. Viggo did not reply.

Instead they walked for a time, up the gently climbing trail away from town toward the hilltop. There was a deep, moist pine and loam smell here under the thick trees. The path softened by layers of leaves and needles muffled their steps.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Elly followed the winding stone path from the lower, thatched bathhouse to the large expanse of the front hall. This time of day there were few about and he found the room blessedly quiet. A good place to think.

And he found he had a great deal to think on. He didn't think he would fall in love with the lovely, long limbed Roman. Not after these many days sharing his room and bed. After days of quiet waiting and gentle conversation.

And he loved Viggo too much for that. He surely had more control. Though he'd been tempted. If not for Karl he'd've long since tasted what pleasures Orlanus had to offer. But no.

No indeed he found himself caring, maybe for the first time, for someone out of sympathy. Out of empathy for his situation and concern for his happiness. And Viggo's.

It wasn't so long ago that he'd been the outlander himself. Riding behind Viggo all the way from the Black Sea, learning a new tongue and how to trust, for the first time, someone's touch as something other than a command or demand. Learning he had a choice.

And when the time had come to choose, he'd made the choice he wanted and not the once most expected.

And for that, he would serve Viggo for the rest of his days.

"Who is this grave man sitting alone in our hall, hm?" Ynn's voice rumbled in his ear.

Elly looked up at him and managed a tight smile as the man sat beside him, back to the table, fingers beneath Elly's chin.

"Surely not my little cockerel." He smiled. "What has darkened your brow, wolfing?"

Ynn had been his choice. When the time came and the need was too great, Ynn had been the one to take him in, to take him and make him part of his new family. It was one of only a few things he and Viggo had in common.

Ynn's brow lowered and he frowned. Elly swallowed visibly, fear tightening his gut. Viggo may have been king, but Ynn was a power unto himself and not to be toyed with or fooled.

Yet even after all this time, sharing his inner thoughts came hard for Elly. He envied Viggo's easy friendships and frank words. Envied because they were so difficult for him.

More than once Ynn had cut him from the pack and knocked some sense into him. Not in front of the men or Viggo, no, always alone. Alone and naked and hard and push pulled tied and fucked until he found his tongue and finally spoke or snarled or screamed his truth.

He hated it fiercely. And loved it. He might fuck his way through each seasons new boys or find his pleasure with Karl or even, once upon a time Viggo himself, but no one touched him like Ynn and no one ever would. Even now he found his way back into Ynn's bed, never letting more than a few weeks go by between times.

Ynn's fingers slid softly, dangerously under his jaw and down his neck. He started panting, ruthlessly strangling his need for flight, instinctively knowing he wanted this and bracing for it all the same.

The distance between them disappeared. Ynn slid his other hand into Elly's wild rage of black curls and rubbed their cheeks together, lips just touching his ear and began asking the questions he knew would flay the stubborn pride and leave him gasping and whole once more.

Elly closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

'You must think me very dangerous.'

Viggo heard the words and felt again the raging fire kindled to inferno in the bathhouse. All of Orlanus long, leggy frame, wet and glowing from the heat had struck in him such a fury of desire he'd bitten the inside of his cheek to keep his wits.

Ynn was right, of course. He would be a poor advisor other wise. He didn't want a quick tumble. He could and did have that as he fancied before Orlanus came. No, he wanted that elusive treasure. The one held in memory and re-incarnated in the form of this Roman.

It was Orlanus who reminded him of his time in the East. Its customs and languages and its many dark and lovesome men and boys. He found now, years later, that he missed the rich variety and mystique he found there.

That first site of Orlanus' face had struck him like an arrow, memories and sensations crashing heavily through his mind. He was, he admitted, selfish. And foolhardy. And Ynn was again correct, after all this time, he too deserved something warm. Something alive.

Orlanus was warm. And alive. He had a fine mind, though still young, with a coltish grace that Viggo found intoxicating. He was beautiful but that was simply his first face. Now they'd spent time talking, Viggo had come to see that Orlanus was what many Romans despised; an Idealist.

He was driven and desired power like most Romans he'd met but he wasn't willing to sacrifice his sense of self to do it. He was true and loyal to the Commander he served and wished to return to him. And to his family. All honorable desires.

What he did not want was what waited for him in Rome. And perhaps even what waited for him back with his men. He was a man at war with himself and Viggo yearned for a time when he could share more openly his own views on Orlanus' struggles.

He supposed Karl was not really needed since the damage Orlanus posed to Viggo had already been done. Over the course of the week filled with the myriad duties he tended he found Orlanus firmly at the center of his thoughts. Try as he might, he could not dislodge him.

"Karl is simply doing as I ask. As does Elly. Perhaps not because you are dangerous. Perhaps because I am dangerous to you." He smiled at the Roman. "You sleep in my bed and live in my house," He held a hand up when Orlanus made to rebut him. "Because I wanted you there."

He watched the dark head drop, the eyes stare at the trail beneath their feet.

"I do not treat all of my 'guests' with such care." Again he watched but Orlanus made no move, no sound. "Did you not think it odd? I would have were I you."

The fire begun on that first day, it's flames banked since the bath suddenly blew hot and he closed the small distance between them. One glance and gesture sent Karl further down the trail, nearly out of sight, providing as much privacy as he could.

With gentle fingers he reached out and laid his hand on Orlanus cheek, reveled in the fine skin and soft scruff of beard, still so scant though unshaved these many days.

Tension froze the broad shoulders, made the muscles in the long slim neck jump. One long fingered hand rose and grasped Viggo's wrist and with it, eye's black as pitch, in a face hot with intense emotion.

"You would have me," the handsome mouth drew flat, anger crackled from him. "I am the first born son of Antonius of the Deliaii. My mother is of the Julii. I am of noble Roman blood and I will not…" He ripped his hand away from Viggo, dropped it to his waist clearly feeling for a missing weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Karl stand and step closer but motioned him to stop.

Viggo's arm dropped slowly, heart thudding as he cursed his rashness and lack of fore thought. Oh he had misjudged and wretchedly. Even the sight of Orlanus in full anger which might otherwise fire his hunger instead scourged him with reproach. And yet, he found his own anger. This man was his prisoner to whom he'd been more than merciful.

"Orlanus it is not as you think. Please, let me,"

Orlanus breath came in quick gulps, blind and deaf to Viggo's words.

"All these days I thought I was to be ransomed but you never," He stuttered to a stop, realization rising across his face like wind before the gale. "They will not come. Have you killed them? Who was it?" Anxiety replaced anger. "Not Arenas, please, gods. I beg you not,"

Viggo snatched a waving hand and held it tight though Orlanus struggled to free it. He must put a stop to the young man's wild plunging emotions and did so in the straightest possible manner, with an open hand across the face sending Orlanus flying backwards rather ungracefully to the loamy path.

Orlanus raised stunned fingers to the red finger streaks on his cheek, wide shocked eyes stared at him, unseeing. A small dab of blood collected at the corner of his mouth. Viggo knelt an arms length away and as calmly as possible tried to make Orlanus understand.

"I have seen no one of your men or your commanders in the time you've been with me, Orlanus. No message was brought to me, no request. I do not kill messengers and when you know me better, you will come to see just how dangerous that accusation is. You were given to me as a blood debt. Any other man would simply kill you for revenge for the multitudes we've lost fighting you're red tide rising in our land. I have treated you as a guest in my house because 'I' saw fit to and because I wanted to and for no other reason. And if you were to stay under my roof it would not be as some petty catamite but as a shield brother the same as Karl and Elly. No man is a slave in my house. No. Man." Viggo stood.

Orlanus had calmed and was working his jaw, looking ruefully up at Viggo. Viggo held out his hand which Orlanus took and between them pulled Orlanus back to his feet. Viggo worked to calm his breath.

"Should you decide to return to your regiment, I will help you arrange that but you must replace the blood money you will cost me. As you are of Noble Family, I should think that ransom would be within your means and you would remain a 'guest' of mine until that ransom is paid." Orlanus nodded, his gaze clearer and calmer.

Viggo continued. "I had hoped," He swallowed, struggling for words to explain his desires. "I…You are welcome to stay. I…would like that. But I…it was important to me that you 'want' to stay. I have not been," he choked on the admission, the loss of his wife still too painful. "partnered," he swallowed again, "in a great while. I wished," he shook his head and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

The touch, when it came, was both gentle and surprising. Viggo opened his eyes and Orlanus stood near, chests nearly touching, fingers cupping Viggo's cheek, his expression one of deep compassion.

"You must understand, my Lord," he put two fingers over Viggo's lips when he shied at the title. "I cannot, even if it were my dearest wish, pledge myself to you. I have a duty to my family, to my regiment and to Rome. I…" He paused, licked his lips. "You are not what I expected. And I have been a less than attentive guest. Will you help me arrange my return?"

Orlanus fingers were still on his lips, a hot two point touch that made paying attention difficult, but he nodded agreement and hoped the fingers would stay. Orlanus smiled.

"In return I will honor my parole to you with greater attention. Please," he dropped into formal phrasing and Viggo could see his eyes dip to the place where fingers lay across lips and felt hope surge. "forgive my emotional display. "

His eyes lifted again and this time he felt that Orlanus was actually there, alive, thinking, feeling. His lips opened slowly and he placed soft open mouthed kisses to each finger tip just as those fingers dropped away.

"Without reservation." He said and smiled. "Shall we start again?" he held out his hand, palm up. Orlanus opened his own and laid it in Viggo's, the warm weight a pleasant one and he closed his fingers.

~tbc~