A Moment Away (Iris)

[Marcus Rufius Honorius Caesar]

EARLY JULY, 59 AD: CAESAR'S CAMP IN APULUM

Through various letters and missives that came to him from Rome, Caesar had been informed that his expedition against the Getai was now being called 'Honorius' Dacian War'. He cared little for the name given to his operations, and on the edges of the empire he cared even less for what the snobby men of the senate thought of him or his war. Marcus was confident enough in the abilities of the men he had left behind in Rome. He did not foresee the conflict against Diercabalus taking more than a year--two at the most--and even if it did, there were capable men and family members left behind to watch the city and look after the well-being of the empire. Even if he couldn't trust every one of them, he knew in the end that he could trust Junus and his mother to do what was right and necessary. For the time being, he wanted to enjoy this war--an excuse to get away from politics for once.

The only two things that had come with him from Rome were actually not things at all, but rather people... and both of them slaves at that. Tubullus was, as always, at his master and friend's beck and call. Though, experienced as he had become at logistics and strategy over the years, he was more of adviser than a servant. It was to Tubullus that Marcus would ask his questions, when they arose. It was a petty fear that kept Marcus from freeing the man that had served faithfully at his side for so many long years. He feared the man would take his freedom and leave Rome to live a pleasant life far away from all the stresses of politics and wars. As good of a mind as he had for it all, Marcus knew all his old friend really wanted to do was retire, use his wealth to get a good, beautiful provincial wife and settle down. Not yet.

Tubullus was, at the moment, away from Marcus' side. He had been sent to Sarmisegetusa, the capital of Roman Dacia to speak with the governor of the province over matters of logistics. That left Marcus at his base in Apulum--the most logical place to center a camp for large military operations--with a handful of servants provided by the governor and with the other person that had accompanied him from Rome: his trusted Iris.

For five weeks, since the beginning of June, Caesar had been leading three of the legions across the border into Getai lands. They met the enemy only in a single pitched battle which saw the Getai forces handily defeated by the better-trained, disciplined, and equipped Roman legionnaires. After that first victory, which had been against the war-chief Diercabalus' brother-in-law, the Getai were more careful about their operations. They began to raid into Roman Dacia as the legions marched on their own lands. Caesar then split his forces, having the legates send their legions against the Getai strongholds with orders to burn villages as they went. Honorius himself led his command legion along with a detachment of praetorians and the equites singulares augusti (an emperors' personal horse guard) against the raiding Getai. The victory was sound, and for the weeks that followed Honorius and his generals chased their enemies until battle was forced upon one or the other. They fought, rested, chased, fought, rested, for weeks until the Getai retreated further into their mountain strongholds.

With the initial retreat of his enemy, Caesar had a fort constructed in the midst of the as-of-yet unscathed Getai lands, staffed it with a full legion, and had the other legions return to their forts on the border and then himself returned to Apulum with his personal retinue of troops. All told the campaign had been successful thus far. Though tribal like the Britons, the Getai had been in contact with Romans for centuries, and before the Romans were heavily Hellenized by Alexander and his successors. Therefore, despite being tribal, the Getai--like the Dacians--had become a very hardy, warlike people. They reveled in war and lived for a chance to die in battle. They were not easily defeated and were intimidating to the newer recruits. Despite this, they stood no chance of defeating Rome. Fight as they might, they would never destroy their enemy. Their only options were to fight a gradual war that they would eventually lose (and consequentially be enslaved), or to capitulate, promise to never invade, supply troops for auxiliary regiments, and pay tribute to Rome.

That was Honorius' eventual goal: he would turn the raiding Getai into a subject people, and in the end make the war profitable to Rome. He had no dreams of extending the border even farther than it already was. He didn't consider it Rome's destiny to rule all of the world, but it was destiny for the rest of the world to look upon Rome and marvel and its power and splendor.

He returned to Apulum, then, midday near the start of July, having been away for several weeks. He had not bathed for the extent of the short expedition, nor had he really eaten well. His armor was stained with blood and dirt. He had small cuts on his hands and arms, and one on his left cheek just below his eye. Despite being Caesar, Honorius was not one to avoid rushing into battle when such an act was necessary for a victory. He saw to his personal guard, thanked them for their service to him on the field and after personally returning his mount to the stable, he returned to his private apartment where the servants greeted him warmly. With a wave of his hand he dismissed them all, save for the bath attendants and the cooks. The others he told to take the night off and enjoy themselves; that he would be ready for their services in the morning.

Wandering through the small apartment--'home' for the duration of the campaign--he began to unbuckle his armor and set it against random pieces of furniture. He wondered where Iris was. "Iris!" He called her name, still concentrating mostly on his armor. The chest piece had been unlatched but would require her help if it were to be completely removed. As he began to undo the ties on his bracers, Marcus heard familiar footsteps in the hall before him. He looked up and suddenly thought of how much of a fright he had to look. His hair disheveled, matted from the helmet; his arms sweaty and dirty, with some spots of blood; the smell of a man's exertion wafting off of him. "Ah, there you are."

[Iris]

Iris had accustomed herself to Darcia since their arrival. When the Caesar was busy leading the raids against the Getai forces, she had conditioned herself and prepared to use her abilities in the healing arts when it was necessary. There were times that even she could not stick closly with her dominus and she trained every moment to continue to stay alert and healthy.

Her body was stretched and contorted before she wielded two lethal swords each movement meant to slice a person to ribbons all with a dancer's grace. A dance with precise movements interlaced with grace and poise, but ending with a sacrifice all a kata that was tested and altered to ensure a resilience that she purposely encaptured in the story that she meant to tell. It also kept her mind off of her anxiety at the possibility of losing Marcus knowing that often times death was inevitable even though he had been stolen from death's grasp once before.

The swords stopped mid-arc as she heard her name being called out by a familiar voice. Her eyes widened and a smile appeared along with a bubbling giddiness as she carefully put the swords away and wipe down the sweat that had made her body dewy from the dance.

She was never sure when Marcus would return and to be in such a state of exertion was probably not the best way to greet one's dominus. None of that was important enough to worry too much upon her propriety overshadowed by her excitement. Her heart skipped a beat and once again as she made her way towards the voice and down the hall to see him standing there.

If she and Marcus were anyone else, she would have ran and jumped into his arms. Her entire body wanted to do just, but years and years of restraint had her demure and calm as she walked up to the man that had come back from the campaign. A long time ago, she had made sure to always allow her dominus to make the first move in whatever one would call what they had together. It was complicated and even with the emotions and other variables could even result in something dangerous.

He knew exactly how she felt for him, but she was never the one to push him into anything more than what he was comfortable with. It was a rather strange existence if not a little sad, but it worked for them and she did not mind. Iris was often rather cold and calm to begin with especially when she was out in public. Her mind was always on her duty to protect as well as serve her master and she rarely spoke. When they were alone she behaved very differently, but not without Marcus' reassurances to do so with his own behaviour or words. Although, what did not change was how frankly she spoke.

"You are a mess, dominus." She said in that soft precise voice quite fluent in his language her accent having smoothed over the years but still with a lilting quality. There was a subtle amusement that only Marcus would have caught as she began to help him remove his armor for comfort sake. Already she had eyed the wounds that were visible all rather superficial and none that he would really care to be fussed over nevertheless she would tend to them whether he liked it or not. She was quite adamant when it came to cuts in the skin knowing that even the simplest wound could fester and turn quite fatal. If an argument was necessary, one would be provided, but she would always manage to be the victor from it despite what most might find as impertinence.

"My apologises for my own disheveled appearance," she murmured as she helped him with the chest piece first relief sinking in that he was really here after several weeks of campaigning. Iris did not fawn, or chatter on about absolutely nothing, but kept her volatile emotions to herself making Marcus comfortable being the best distraction until she could manage to calm herself down.

[Marcus Rufius Honorius Caesar]

Iris’ shadows danced against the soft orange hue of the walls to signal her arrival before she actually appeared. Marcus looked up to see her in the hall. His face remained still, and as she spoke to speak of his condition he put on a small smile and looked down upon his stained and dirtied armor, clothing, and skin. “That I am,” he said in agreement, lifting his eyes. “Nothing new, I don’t think.”

Marcus remained statuesque as Iris assisted in the removal of his armor. It was set aside neatly, placed so that the servants whose job it was to maintain the armor of caesar could quickly and easily take it and repair whatever damage had been done. As much as Marcus tried to remain away from the thick of the fighting, there were times when his impatience got the better of him and he felt the need to drive his loyal Gallic equites singulari into the flanks of the enemy. He had returned relatively unscathed… relatively be relative, of course.

He felt Iris’ eyes scan over the enemy attacks that had missed his armor and instead scratched his skin. All of the wounds were little more than scratches, small cuts and scrapes and swells that would heal with time and Iris’ attention. She continued with her inspections and then with her own apologies for her appearance. With the chest-piece and thus the last part of his armor removed, Marcus grabbed hold of his tunic and took it from his shoulders. More bruises became visible, the remnants of wounds that didn’t piece his armor but rather battered against it.

“You look exactly how I thought you would, nothing less,” he said, another small smile turning the corners of his lips. Iris finished her aiding and Marcus stepped toward the hall she had appeared from. “Have the baths warmed. I haven’t been clean in weeks.” At those words he remembered a time prior, after the death of Darius, when they had shared a bath. “On second thought, let us sit a while.” Marcus moved toward his private study, trusting Iris to follow him. At length he reached his study and sat.

Finding wine already there he poured two cups and then looked to Iris. “I trust all has been well in my time away?”

[Iris]

There would be no use to chide Marcus. Quite honestly, he was a soldier and being here made him feel alive. She had saw him changing and the politics tiring him out mentally as well as the constant grieving. This was his opportunity to get what he wanted while venting out all of the problems that may have made him feel tied up and helpless.

As he agreed with her observation of him, she chuckled. "You could at least try not to seem so excited of throwing yourself into the fighting. Many would be quite upset if you were to fall." It bothered her that she could not ride with him, but he knew she would use herself as a shield and do whatever she needed to protect him. Instead, she was made to stay at home, safe awaiting his return whether upon his horse or in a box. Her being at their temporary home was a command and she obeyed knowing that there were other motivations that made Marcus' decision.

With tender care, she examined and triaged the worse knowing which would need her attention first, and what the others may need. The bruises almost made her grimace as he took off his tunic. Iris pressed her lips together and kept as expressionless as she could manage not looking Marcus' in the eyes all during her examination almost imagining herself cold and unfeeling.

His compliment surprised her reflecting that emotion on her face and undone by his smile. She averted her eyes and returned a polite smile back. "Yes, Dominus, it has been instructed." The change in his mind of getting comfortable and to bathe made her wonder what was on his mind. It seemed he had to tell her something and she inwardly disliked the uncertainty of it all.

Without another word, she followed Marcus' to his private study, her steps silent but close as she had practised for many years on how to be that deadly little shadow. Upon arriving at the study, he took a seat and she stood still plagued with what was on his mind. She noticed that two cups of wine were poured and she drew closer taking her cues from him.

"Yes, Dominus, the household is running as smoothly as if you were still in Rome if not a bit better not having quite as much to be concerned of as a whole palace. Not as much of a staff, and most were a lot more obedient and a lot less concerned of gossip and the politics that came along with that. She could be quite brutal with uselessness and took it in hand like an iron fist. Again, despite her stature, and being a woman, she was rather intimidating if she needed to be. Marcus was making small talk to get her comfortable, but it actually did the exact opposite. He knew that she would tell him if there is a problem that needed his immediate attention, but the squabblings amongst the household slaves were not of great importance.

"Are you trying to gauge my reaction on how upset I am that I was left behind once again from your side?" She asked rather bluntly hoping that he would just come out with what he wished to tell her. He was never good at intrigue using force and intimidation when it was needed, but there was another side of him which he always offered to a select few. Perhaps he just needed to be a bit more specific on what information he was inquiring about. She was a lot more upset around the time he had left, but at the moment, she was just trying to shake him up, and get him to say what was on his mind.

It also did not help that she wanted to hug him or kiss him, but she was not going to behave like a surly lover knowing that she did not have the right, and he belonged to another whether it was politically or not. In all truth, she did not matter and understood her place in the great scheme of things was following and never stepping over the line. Her mind allowed her to have a more reactive relationship with Marcus instead of her instigating anything knowing that it would be wicked for a slave to behave so.

It would make her as content as one could be in such an awkward situation and she kept everything ambiguous knowing that the other slaves talked but none actually knew if Marcus took advantage of his little slave girl. That is exactly how she liked it and she never put on airs that she was by the Caesar's side. Inwardly, she was still his slave, and he was still just a soldier that had saved her from a life of tedium.

[Marcus Rufius Honorius Caesar]

“Yes, well I believe I’m careful enough,” Marcus said in response to Iris’ veiled worry. She never clearly came out and said, ‘be careful’ but over their years together as master and slave, and then as companions, and then as something slightly more, he had come to read between her words and guess at the real meanings. He supposed all people had their own way of talking, and Iris’ he had grown used to. “Besides, I have enough damned equites around me at every turn to ensure that if an arrow or javelin flies my way, it won’t strike home.”

He could tell from the tone of her voice that Iris wanted nothing more than to saddle up and ride with him into battle. Surely she would serve him well, but warrior as she might have been, the battlefield was no place for a woman--at least not in the Roman army. There were German and Getan tribes that used fierce women as their warriors, and reports from Britannia had even mentioned willful warrior-ladies, wives and daughters to lords that had already been killed in battle, leading charges against the Roman lines. That as it was, Rome did not fight in such a way--and would not. Marcus prized the woman for more than just her skill in violence, and that was why she remained away from harm.

Marcus enjoyed the robust flavor of the wine, certainly different than the ales and beers the soldiers liked to drink. When on campaign and out in the field, Marcus lived as one of his men. Being Caesar he of course had a larger command tent and an actual framed bed rather than a skin or sack to lie upon, but even still there were many nights he preferred the feel of the ground to that of his makeshift cot. He hadn’t gotten used to the strangeness of trying to bring civilization into the wilderness. In his mind such frivolities made a man soft at a time when he needed to be the exact opposite.

He was drawn out of his solitary thought when Iris answered and confirmed that all had been well in his absence. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected her to tell him that there were problems. Marcus knew the people on his staff, and he knew all of their servants; they wouldn’t fail him. When Iris quite bluntly asked whether he was attempting to gauge her reaction to being left behind, Marcus shifted in his chair and put an cross expression onto his face. ”Not at all,” he objected. ”It was clear enough how upset you were the day I left. I doubt your feelings have changed much since.” He took another drink and then sighed.

”Junus will have a birthday soon,” he said, seemingly changing the subject--though there was a purpose to what he said. ”Another year older… and another year closer to assuming what’s rightfully his.” Though his life hadn’t necessarily been any easier as Praetorian Praefect, there was a part of Marcus that wished he go back to that time when all he was responsible for was the protection of his family. Now he was father of not just a simple household, but an entire empire and all of its inhabitants had become his children.

”There is a part of me that wonders whether or not I should have rejected the proclamation of the Praetorians on that night,” and he spoke of course of the night of Darius’ death, when the Praetorians had called Marcus their Caesar. ”Part of me wonders why I didn’t. Did I want the power? Did I secretly covet the chance to rise from an Equestrian family into the purple of the emperors?” He took another drink. ”But that’s not me. I’m no emperor, no matter what title a group of soldiers throws at me. ‘Caesar’ is not a part of my name.”

Marcus had been thinking for some time--since Junus’ coming of age--of how he could slowly accustom his son to the responsibilities of power. Junus was already intelligent, and surely the lessons he had learned and continued to study throughout his life would give him knowledge where he lacked first-hand experience, and that would be better than nothing. But, Junus was still a very young man, and it would be many years before he was fully ready to take complete control. It was the thought that perhaps he would grow used to the power and influence of his new station that worried Marcus; what if, when the time came, he didn’t want to relinquish the power?

[Iris]

Iris tried not to be readable as she nodded and worked at clearing that worry. It was not a game that she played with him, but that she felt that it would not do for her to mistrust how he did things even though she did worry. She understood what he needed to do and that he was first and foremost a soldier. Even if she cared so very deeply for him their own situation was precarious and she would never care to assume anything or demand anything he was not willing and ready to offer her. The petite woman did not reply to his attempts to curb her concern knowing that it might come out in a tone she did not desire to display.

The only thought that had kept her in place was that if she did manage to ride as a cross-dressing soldier there to protect Marcus, he would worry about her being there and distract him from his own tasks. Despite how much it worried her or how much she hated being held back, it was enough to keep her 'safe'. Still it did not mean she had to like the decision even though there was a deep-seeded feeling of admiration for Marcus and it was thoughts of her specifically that warmed her fully towards her dominus.

It would constantly be a strong point nevertheless, but Iris heard Marcus' sigh and pulled back her tone. She could not meet his eyes as he changed the subject, but her only thoughts was to draw closer to him and slip upon his lap and greet him properly. The woman knew that he needed a moment to settle, gather himself and it was really not her intention to pester. Human emotion and desires could not entirely be excluded even from someone like Iris who tried her best to seal everything up and compartmentalise it all until it was necessary.

She fell silent and attentive as Marcus mentioned his son Junus' birthday. Iris felt his thoughts knowing his misgivings, guilt, and everything that he tried to bore in silence and only shared with her. Everything changed when he was made to divorce his wife whom he had once loved to marry another. Then to re-marry the Empress for political balance. His doubts poured out and it made her curious why it had began. "Dominus, I do not think you thirst for power." She said simply and truly. "You took it upon yourself as a duty, something that needed to be fulfilled for Rome which you love as much as you do your family." It was her observations come to light, and she spoke frankly behind closed doors as Marcus confessed what he would never dare to with anyone else.

"Even if you do not wish it, it will be a part of you until power can rightfully be given back to your son. You of all people would know exactly what would have happened if you did not step in to shoulder this...honourable burden." The words whispered but clear in her usual lilting voice. "You are Rome's protector until your son can do it for you." It was him coming down from the adrenaline rush of the battles he had immersed himself in. To have to slow down back to where everyone else was, a sort of grieving process in itself and she wished to embrace him, but she stayed exactly where she was. It was still not time content to just soothe him with words.

"Has the desire to continue to stay as Caesar continued to grow or are you waiting for the day that you can pass over your burden to Junus?" Iris asked bluntly as was her nature and even used Marcus' son's name with familiarity.

[Marcus Rufius Honorius Caesar]

Marcus' eyes held Iris' face in their gaze for the length of time that she spoke to him. Frustrated and uncertain as he was in regards to all sorts of things, he was not afraid or uncomfortable when looking the woman face-to-face. He had considered that he wanted to be alone; he considered dismissing Iris as he had the other servants. But that wasn't what he really wanted to do. As solitary and solemn as Marcus was, he was not a man who truly enjoyed being alone. There were years when he had felt that way, but always Iris had been at his side. The woman whom he had saved from her own parents, whose life he had turned into one of servitude: she remained.

He shook his head, uncertain of the words she spoke in an attempt to soothe his worries and self-doubt. "All men thirst for power," he said once she had finished. "Whether they say they do or not: it is engrained within us. The lowest of soldiers fights for his life to win some recognition. Whether he is promoted or simply wins the respect of his fellow soldiers, he in the end gains some power over them. And then he wants more." Marcus took the wine and poured a little more down his throat, relishing the mix of smooth and harsh textures as it washed down his throat.

He ignored the first part of Iris' final question, and instead focused on what he took as the more meaningful part. "On that night, when the Praetorians called me their champion, their Caesar: I felt alive. For the first time in so many years, I felt vigor and life. I can remember how my heart beat against my armor," he put his hand against his chest to feel the muscle pumping blood. "I can remember my shock and opposition... but I can also remember the excitement that crept within me. That dormant demon of greed and desire, asleep for so many years, finally had its day.

"And now, I am Rome's protector. But what have I protected? The world is at war, the empire I was given is beset by barbarians on all sides. I cannot believe that the men who fight truly fight for me. For who am I? I would be nothing without this name that I've been given... Caesar," he said with some disgust. "Yet, that is where power lies, isn't it? In a name, and in the soldiers who believe in the name. I suppose that's the trick: people believe in power where power is shown to be." Marcus trailed off there, realizing he had gone on a bit of a tangent.

"As a father this isn't a responsibility that I want to pass on to my son. I don't believe he's ready now; I don't know if I was ready the night Darius died." There were times when Marcus had watched his younger son, when Darius was still alive and loving the life of a Caesar. In those days Junus had been innocent; he devoted himself to his studies; to philosophy, rhetoric, sciences. He wanted to become a scholar because he expected that he would never be a Caesar. As Marcus sat, wallowing in a self-made sort of pity, the world waited for Junus.

Marcus remained quiet for a moment, his eyes cast downward, his face tightened in thought. And then he perked, an idea appeared. "Could it be so simple?" He said, more to himself than to Iris. "For me to protect as he rules." Marcus' mood changed suddenly, and for a few moments he brewed over his question. And at last he looked to Iris, seemingly a different man--as if he hadn't been bothered at all. He moved to take a drink, only to find that the wine was gone. "Get some more wine, would you?" Marcus stood and tore the tunic from his back. "And meet me in the baths." And with that he turned and walked to his new destination.

[Iris]

Being very much alone with Marcus, Iris had dropped the pretenses of being a 'slave'. Since the beginning of her slavery, she had always created the image of the perfect image of a slave, but behind closed doors, she spoke her mind, consoled, and loved him unabashedly. Of course, whether behind closed doors or out in the open, she was a shadow that was ready to protect even if it was to eat and drink his food before he could enjoy his meal. That was constantly argued about as well behind closed door until a command was given the 'job' wrested away from her.

She tilted her head as she observed her master. Having been in Rome for quite a few years now had many men vying for power, craved it, consumed by it and yet Marcus suffered with having so much of it. Even as he spoke the words, she held fast to her own beliefs. Often times, it was rather difficult for oneself to actually see what they did. Such things were not 'accidents' that one just tumbled into. They were moments that were seized and as those men had appointed Marcus as the acting Caesar until Junus could take power, it made her wonder why Marcus pushed so hard to find fault with his decision. That action alone told her that he was the best man for such a formidable position.

"It is not a dormant demon of greed and desire, Marcus." She said softly using his name pushing aside monikers of slave and master. "What you felt was pride that you were being exalted into such a position because those men believe in you. Not necessarily the position of Caesar, but that you were recognised as a just commander...ruler."

Her lips pressed together as she listened to him hearing the disgust in her voice. "And before when you were a soldier, why did you continue to fight for the Caesar? Every soldier has their own motives of why they continue to serve. Most want to receive the wealth, prestige, and hopes of being recognised. You fight for Rome as these soldiers fight for Rome, and from the beginning, Rome's ambition has created opportunity for war and to hungrily conquer. It does not mean that these people that are being dominated and conquered would just fall upon their knees in worship."

Iris fell silent as he mentioned Junus not being ready and she agreed with him but held her silence. It was a transition for all of them, especially Marcus and especially his son, but having Marcus shoulder the burden for his son for awhile was in a way his way to show his love. The position may have been coveted by many, but for a long time she had inwardly loathed the position and how it seemed to try to crush her dominus. She just steeled her resolve as she watched quietly, observing him as he seemed to allow his melancholy take over.

Then something changed causing her to tilt her head in interest as he asked a question that she could not even really answer. The transformation as he had seemed to find an answer to create such peace had her wondering what he was thinking about. She nodded and tried to pretend that she was not phased as he removed his tunic.

Her eyes were carefully averted as Marcus headed towards the bath. She schooled her feature to a stoic expression as she instructed a household slave to bring the wine to the baths. She ignored the trill that her heart seemed to be doing as she entered the baths accepting the wine that was brought upon the request. Halting in the first room before the baths, she took a drink from the cup having poured the wine herself then she dismissed the slave and turned with both cup and jug of wine in her hands.

The petite woman almost always attended Marcus and she treated this day as any other when there was opportunity for such luxury. Iris poured more into the cup and she placed the jug close to the edge of the bath and the cup was offered with two hands. She did not mean to make everything a ritual of sorts, but even she needed some structure putting up the boundaries herself. "What thoughts has you transformed, dominus?" Going back to labels despite the more intimate setting.

[Marcus Rufius Honorius Caesar]

Marcus disrobed as he approached the baths and by the time he reached the water all of his body was bare. He felt the tinge of cool air wrap around his arms and legs, but it was only momentary. He stepped into the basin of warm water, pumped through underground pipes and warmed in the traditional Roman way. The water wasn't boiling, but it was warm enough to soothe, and after weeks away seeing to his troops and engaging in skirmishes, that was just what he needed.

Truth be told he needed to be cleaned, the oils applied to his skin and removed with the strigil, but that could wait. First he wanted to sit and relax, let his muscles regain their strength. Once his body pruned, then he would exit and be wiped completely clean. Until then, he would remain in the bath, with Iris alongside him as company. As much as he wanted to completely submerge himself, Marcus was aware of the wound on his body that Iris had dressed and because of it he made sure to keep the water only to his waist.

Marcus stood there then when Iris entered with wind in hand, the water just below the lines of his hips. She approached him a wine cup held in both of her hands and held it out. He took it and without a word took a strong drink. With the cup raised and against his lips, Iris asked what thought had changed his thinking. Lowering the cup, he licked any remaining wine from his lips and then looked at her. "The thought that there is time enough for all that needs to happen. I can't fight time, and I can't fight fate. Whatever the gods decree will be so." He took another drink. "I'll content myself with that." He knew it was a very vague answer, but in truth Marcus didn't want to focus on his worries; he wanted to enjoy the time he had to relax.

Again Marcus set the cup to the side, just on the edge of the bath. He motioned for her to enter the bath with him. "Come," he beckoned, his voice slightly different than usual, "join me."

[Iris]

Iris did not bother picking up after Marcus knowing that the household slaves would take care of it all once he was now settled. She tried to ignore how good he looked despite how tired he was. She was still trying to figure out this change in him. Silently, she observed him, watched as he drank from the cup and licked his lips. The dark-haired woman longed to taste from his lips, but tried to remain neutral to ensure that the slight woman did not miss anything.

His words were wise and almost something that she would have said to him. The enlightenment was surprising and for that matter that he was content with it having been with Marcus for so many years had allowed her to sense some insight into her dominus’ personality, mannerisms and emotions. There was something he was not quite ready to share, or he did not wish to disrupt his mood and Iris knew enough not to push too hard.

Her head tilted with curiousity as Marcus asked her to come into the bath and again she sensed a difference, or a change in him. It was reminiscent of a time in the past. “Surprising to hear…but refreshing.” Being who she was, Iris took it as a command and she entered the bath figuring that he just wished to be bathed. “Yes, Dominus.” She said gently as she eased herself down into the warm water before facing Marcus.

He had been different ever since his return and she was still trying to anticipate his next thought but nothing came to her. It was just a bit easier to follow instructions and commands instead of trying to figure out the reason behind it. Being who he was, Iris had a feeling that she would know soon enough.