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He Would Kill You - GermaniaxRoman!Reader - P1

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Part One: Slave of Mind



You arrived back to your father’s moderate, well small, villa on the edges of the Roman countryside without looking back over your shoulder. You could feel the eyes of the newest member of your group, oh those handsome green eyes, staring right at your bared back and it made your spine tingle. Part of you longed to turn around and be in his strong arms again, to stroke at the head where there must have once been such beautiful blonde hair… but the man scared you. The thoughts scared you….

An ideal woman of Rome was one who did not want for anything but an adequate marriage with a good stationed man and all the children she could hope for. Her body was to remain untainted and treated as carefully as any Vestal Virgins, unsightly body hair removed and never exposing any flesh that might make her seem “open”. With your father being a consul for the year and your cousins being members of the Scipio Family – the family that defeated Hannibal – you had even more expectations, hence you were never allowed to step onto the streets to maintain this façade that you were very pure. Your father had of course put that idea into your head; he’d tried hard to glaze all his fears for your safety over with ridiculous gestures about your mother’s family and how you were to remain “perfect”.

But as you had grown older you had felt an unfamiliar heat rising within your core that had seemed to react to the presence of men – sometimes with a fluttering excitement and other times a fierce repulsion. You had been aided in understanding your sensations of lust by the female slaves of your house and thanks to them you had controlled it by remembering how the Republic had been formed – the act of Lucretia’s Rape and Suicide that had appalled your ancestors enough to rise up against a tyrant king. That thought held you strong; you would not let any barbarian’s hands touch your flesh again.

“Your father will insist on you bathing my lady.” Hasdrubal sighed gently and you turned to him with a dazed expression. You’d been so busy trying to keep strong and fortify your morals that you had not realised how quickly you’d been taken into the courtyard. You spun about, your eyes clapping the Ethiopian Lebna*, as he gripped the new slave’s cuffs and started pulling him away. But your eyes were suddenly swelling with surprise as awe as the barbarian ignored his fellow slave and instead stared straight up at you. His eyes seemed intense and fiery; you could see a rebellious spirit within but a passion that made your body flush with heat.

“Do you have a name?” You blurted as you stared at him and his eyebrows rose in surprise. You were not sure what was going through his mind but somehow you knew it had been exciting for him to get your notice. You smiled warmly at him and stepped toward him a little, only to feel Hasdrubal lurching close to your back in case. You knew well that Hasdrubal was an excellent guard, his sister had nursed you after your mother’s death, but he was nearing old age for a slave and your father had been blunt about his future abilities. But you found yourself stuck staring at the sinewy frame of the muscled barbarian and wrenching the edges of your dress with suppressed in excitement. “Please… I don’t want to call you slave or barbarian – you are a warrior and in my father’s house you will one day be granted freedom.”

“Freedom? Would that be when I die for one of your horrific games?” He snarled and you started gently. Your face shifted into a look of sorrow that seemed to make your new slave almost fall over in surprise at how divinely beautiful you seemed with sad eyes. You gave a gentle sigh and shook your head firmly at him before turning back towards the house. You could not help but feel his defiance was just because he was so unsettled and afraid… However as you stepped with Hasdrubal into the door of the villa, you heard a gentle mumble that made you turn around and give a smile that almost made Lebna collapse with how pretty it was. “Germania…”

~Germania’s Point of View~

The smell in the marble room was confusing and I could not help but find myself concerned about the beauty of slave’s quarters and bath. I had not expected to see something so fanciful and alike to normal Roman quarters being permitted to slaves. My initial belief on my slave standing was that I would be treated like a mangy guard dog left to go rabid and mad from hunger before being released upon another slave in the same situation. When I had been captured and tortured along the road to Rome that had been the impression given. But instead I was led to the baths, the dirty was scraped from my body and a was flushed with buckets of cold water before being led into a vast warm pool and instructed to soak up the heat.

“Why would I be treated like this? I am not some stallion kept clean and healthy for showing off…” I began to the Ethiopian, but he remained silent and it did not take me long to realise that he’d had his tongue removed. I knew such a method was typical to punish a liar but I had been used to sensing dangerous people and he seemed humble to me. I had to wait for the ageing Carthaginian to step inside from the main house of the villa and sit along the edge of the bath with me. I glared at him, but his dark eyes seemed to be trying to peel me apart and assess my worth. “You seem almost to like being a slave… you seem proud… yet your people are right this minute about to be destroyed by this plague of Romans.”

“The Republic is like a grand bull elephant, my friend. It strolls about without care taking what it needs, but its body is coated in ticks that drain it of blood and harm it but then there are the birds that sit upon it, eat the ticks but drink blood from open wounds… its friends and enemies are the same leeching beings. This Republic will not last.” He snorted but the wisdom in his words astounded me, I had only heard descriptions of these elephants from the Celt-Iberians and the Cisalpine Gaul, the often described them as massive ox-like beings with an arm in place of a nose, yet the reference was clear to me, Rome really was on the brink of fighting itself again. But then the Carthaginian continued. “I am not proud to serve the cousins of the Scipio clan that have been my country’s bane, yet the master of this house is not really Scipio and he is wise about the world. That Ethiopian was mutilated for taking money from his master, he did not but instead revealed to my master where his old owner had been cheating in the items he was selling. My master bought him and has looked after him as he has me. But the daughter…”

My ears burned, I was excited to know about the female and quite startled by the information that had been passed to me. This house was linked to the Scipio Clan, a name known to all enemies of Rome, not to mention identifiable with power, wealth and a position in this political system that meant they were almost royalty. I had been purchased by a kind-hearted man who appreciated honesty, which would be his weakness because I could work my strength and understanding of this culture up enough to cause a rebellion and break it apart. But I was still much more interested in knowing about the young woman who’d saved me, who’d lured my eyes to her and who seemed to make my courage and defiance melt whenever she’d looked upon me.

“The daughter is _____, she will let you call her by that name when there are no officials around and she will treat you not like a pet or a slave but like a family member. My sister was her wet-nurse and though she is called a Roman by those fools she is to me a Carthaginian. To Lebna she is an Ethiopian and to you, though it will be a while before your realise it, she will be Germanic. I do not know how your Germans treat your women, but any harm done to her, whether a stupid comment or a true wound I would not hesitate in slaughtering you and neither would the others. Remember that because you are to replace me as her body-guard and her friend.” He seemed to sigh, almost upset that he was going to be given something he did no want. I had assumed at first he would be put to death, but when I eyed his form I noticed that he was not wearing usual slaves’ clothes but slightly richer textures. I was startled; he was upset that he would become free?

~Your Point of View~

The water was comforting but the scents of perfumes and oils to intense that you could not stop yourself sneezing whenever something was added. Normally you would have a bath as a way to relax after a stressful time and though it had been worrying you knew this bath was more for the fact that you smelt a little too much like the sweat of the man that had caught you. At that memory, memory of that very masculine and yet beautiful smell you blushed and felt your body heating up once more.

“Ah, _____ how has your day been? I heard talk that you’d hired some terrifying brute that dared to stop you falling on the ground. That is a stroke of luck indeed!” Your father muttered as he shuffled into the bath room and greeted you, his presence encouraging your female hand-servants to come over to you and encourage you out of the water. With a groan, glad you weren’t terribly pruned but upset that your father had already been informed of the situation; you let them cover you before talking over your shoulder.

“You told me ages ago that there are no accidents and with him rescuing me from the already rabid crowd at that point… not to mention some lecherous movements by Rome; well it only seemed right. It’s what you would have done I’m sure.” You retorted, irritated that once again your father was getting grumpy because you had been in a ‘situation’ as he often called them. Around him you could barely have a normal life without someone ready to pull you from the street the moment the wind blew dust at you! But despite that, it did have one great benefit in that your father was not going to sell you off in a political marriage – one of the reasons he was not going to be in politics once he’d finished this term.

“He’s a German…. I may be soft of the Africans but the barbarians of the north are worse – they could have been like us Romans and we could have been like them… too fine a line between humanity and animalistic instinct for me. But I suppose I did tell you they were very loyal and he did save you – it is what I would have done though you’ll have to use that gentling trick of yours. Think of him like that wolf you adore so much… be cautious and don’t press him into reacting – then he might be of use. What are you going to name him then?” Your father groaned, seemingly exasperated and you were worried by this. He always seemed so ancient when he got this worried and well, he was very old at nearly seventy and you were all that he had in the world of family left – he’d nearly not had you to begin with.

“You speak of him like he’s a dog or a horse… he’s a man and he has his own name and I will call him by it.” You sighed in annoyance, having been dressed by your assistants you strolled over to where your father was slumping against a box of perfumes and placed a hand upon his shoulder in comfort. Your eyes were wide and you knew with them you could get an answer from your father. “What is wrong father? You look like you could break down and cry; and you’re not being your usual kindly self. What has happened?”

“It’s not what has happened, but what will happen. The senate is getting strained and the only thing keeping them from eating one another is the good news your cousin Amelianus Scipio brings from Carthage; it’ll fall any day now and your other cousin Tiberius Gracchus will probably have pressure on him to outdo his father and be a hero of the people…. I worry for the salve economy, for those women who will loose husbands and sons in the battle… already greedy councillors are moving into the west to Hispania and those owed land or owning it may be removed for the cheaper slaves… Oh I worry about the republic and wish I could find you a suitable husband who will care about it as much was I know you do.”

“You’re considering finding me a husband?” Your heart sunk and your lips quivered with fear as you spoke the words, but the sorrowful glint in your father’s eyes confirmed it. Suddenly you did not want to be around anyone, you felt as though night were pressing in already and stood up firmly with a stomp of your foot. “I’m afraid I am tired and sickly, I shall retire to bed and do not wish to be disturbed by anyone!”

“But wait ____, I did not mean to…” You ignored the words as you stepped away and out of the room. Once in your own room with your comfortable bed and your wolf companion ____, who was little more then a puppy around you it seemed safe. Everything seemed to make sense in this little world of yours because no one else was in it, but to get married you could not tell what the other person might think of your lifestyle or of your opinions. You were a woman, not allowed to vote and married off only to secure wealthy and bloodlines – at the end of the day you had as little value as a slave and you did not like that thought….

~Germania’s Point of View~

It was night and the screeching of an owl had woken me from slumber and made me edgy. I had been greeted by the master of the house already and given a stern lecturing I could only half understand about looking after his daughter. I was startled to realise how important this girl was to the household when I had originally assumed that Roman women were for show and breeding, just like any other stock. But thinking back to her beauty and those eyes… I could not blame any being for lusting or falling for her.

But waking to that thought and the dark mood of the owl’s call gave em strange thoughts. I observed that my fellow slaves were asleep in their own beds and though we were in a house separate from the main one of the villa, we were not locked up and guarded. It seemed the man of the land was definitely too kind hearted and it was easy for me to slip out of bed, get a weapon and aim for the main bedrooms. I held a sneaking suspicion that I was being observed by Hasdrubal, but that was not of interest to me. The insult of Rome sparing me and denying any warrior’s death filled my mind and I knew I had to redeem it by spilling the blood of an enemy and then fighting to the death with those that tried to stop or punish me.

No matter how kindly this household – I would never be a slave! I would kill them all!

Upon entering the house it did not take me long to find the grandest looking room in the house and I was amused by the lack of security. I was sure that this was indeed the master’s house and that he would be the one behind the strange curtains around the bed. But when I stepped inside, a growling sound echoed in my ears and I turned fast to see a large _____ coloured wolf staring me down. Immediately I lowered the blade in my hand and straightened my form – I looked the beast in the eye with my body firm and rigid. It backed down all too easily, tamer then any of the war dogs… Romans ruined everything with valour!

I stepped over to the bed and lifted the sharp blade in my hand, pulling the curtain gently and without thought drove the blade… to a stop. I had always been quick to change tactics in battle when attacked but I’d never felt such a reaction as this, my own body stopping itself despite the resolve of my mind. My heart beat violently and I would have roared a battle cry had the figure an inch from the blade not given a gentle moan of upset. I realised through my rage, which was washed away on a cool night breeze that this was not the master of the house but that daughter of his. I looked at her soft ____ skin, the way the fabric just clung around her beautiful form and her ___ hair framed the delicate edges of her face. I found that even in sleep her beauty shook my form and made me long for something in a more fulfilling but painful way then lusting for Roman blood. I felt an urge to stretch out the un-armed hand as I saw her wince once more in pain. I took the blade away and took the edge of the fabric, pulling it closer around her form before turning and leaving the room. The moment I stepped out, past the wolf that gave whines of delight, I was greeted by the tall form of the Carthaginian. He was not armed and seemed almost smug.

“Why didn’t you try and stop me?” I stared at Hasdrubal with a fire he seemed to imitate and spit back at me in his own glare. I was unnerved by his resolve and recalled his words earlier. I had been about to scoff over the idea when he caught me sharply with his tongue.

“The question is why didn’t you kill her?”
*It’s really hard to find Ethiopian names that are suitable and this one is just a common “African” name there, apparently, so please accept my apologies for it

WOW! I had the first part up for around 5 days and it already had 293 views and 35 favourites, and 4 downloads with more comments then I would expect for nay of the taster bits I put up! Your interest, mixed with my own, has really encouraged me to write more of this.

So thanks guys and I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter.

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Bubbly-Witch's avatar
Best Germania story to date !