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Chapter Text

Julius Caesar sits, eyebrow raised at the announcement that someone has brought him a gift. Gifts are not unusual, but they can be annoying. Most people had little to no understanding of what he actually might want or need. It brings a lot of stress to figure out where to put items, house horses, and find lions or roles for slaves. It is a bother. 

Whatever is about to enter his throne room will not be worth the effort of figuring out what to do with it.

With a word, he directs his staff to let in whatever fool has decided to try and kiss up this time.

Ah.

It is some senator… Kissbuttus, if Julius recalls correctly. Julius tilts his head ever so slightly during the long-winded praises. The gift isn't obvious, meaning it is tiny or it is alive. Or this air filled fool is trying to build up suspense. Unfortunately, the only suspense that Julius enjoys is the tensions of battle and the feeling of victory crashing down as he wins the day for Rome and, more importantly, himself.

Oh, there. Kissbuttus is wrapping up his speech. 

The senator gives an order and a gesture, and Julius sits up a little straighter as a small man is dragged into the room, chains clanking and grinding as the small figure is brought to a stop in front of him.

“I saw this little Gaul in the market and knew you must have him. I recall seeing him in the Colosseum once, and figured you might like to have him.”
Julius stands, ears only half listening to Kissbuttus. The little clever gaul that had so frequently stands there, swaying ever so slightly. What was the name… Asterix? Asterix. Asterix stands there with his eyes half-closed, eyes ringed with black exhaustion, and one of the wings of his helmet pointed towards the ground, heavy with blood. The other wing stands at attention, giving the small man the look of a rabbit who had been bashed on the head and left to die. Unfocused eyes stare hazily at him, still attempting to look fierce despite the awful pallor and swaying. They glitter with challenge and bite. 

The little Gaul looks like he was shoved into the mouths on several lions who then spat him out. Bits of his outfit are torn and ripped; hanging off of him and completing the image of defeat yet determination. 

“I... see.”

“‘Lo Julie.”

Asterix slurs, still insultingly casual despite it all. Asterix’s eyes are blinking slowly. Wrong. None of the normal quick glances and spark of clever thoughts. There should be a flickering flame there, not that dull shine. 

“I cleaned him as best I could after picking him up from the market, but he made a right ruckus about it. And he still is disrespectful as ever, but I think that adds a hint of charm.”

Julius slowly moves forward, not entirely sure what he is feeling. He looks over the thorn that so often pricked his side and frowns a little. This is a victory… a good thing… right?

It rings hollow. 

It was not by his hand or by his scheme that the Gaul was brought so low. And there is no final moment to really feel the victory settle in. No bending of the knees or last war shout. 

Just…

This. 

Its so empty and sad.

Asterix falls forwards, eyes falling solidly shut. And Julius finds himself catching the Gaul. An opponent such as this does not come often. And to have it snuffed out so easily is an insult. 

To Asterix and to himself. 

No. This will not be how the Gaul will go out. Asterix will live to see another day. 

Will he be an annoyance? More than likely. But will it be better than a slow bleed out? Yes. 

He lifts up Asterix into his arms, mind noting the lightness. He finds himself somewhat glad his rival had been brought here and not left to die elsewhere. 

“A wonderfully thoughtful gift. You will be rewarded and remembered for this.”

Julius gives the polite platitudes and then leaves the room. He needs to get Asterix to a healer. A new war trophy is worthless if it expires before it can be stored. 

He admits to a bit of impatience while waiting to hear if the Gaul has a chance to survive. But the healer is good and faithful and comes through in the end with a hopeful report.

The little Gaul would keep on living. 

Which brings about new problems, such as where to store him.

The dungeons would be too far for the healer to travel, and Julius would like to keep an eye on the Gaul. The treasure room holds all sorts of spoils of war, including weapons, and Julius is not keen to rearm the man, even if he seems to be without magic potion for now. Though perhaps… he has been meaning to get things sorted so the spoils could be displayed for the public to muse over. Some sort of muse-alium. Yes, this is the perfect time and excuse to start the sorting processes. 

But till that's done the Gaul will have to be stored in his personal tablinum. Nothing too dangerous there aside from the tablets and papers of backstabbing, corrupt officials trying to wordsmith their way into his good graces and the paperwork that comes from trying to run an empire that was a dying republic not too long before.

He gets Asterix settled against the wall, on top of pillows and attached to the wall. Then he turns in for the night and rubs the bridge of his nose. He sighs and blows out his candle. Hopefully, this will not bring him too many more headaches to worry over.

Chapter Text

Julius finds Asterix asleep still in the study the next morning. He sits down at his desk and looks over the tablets and papers had been delivered early this morning. He frowns a little as his mind sinks down into the work. They have enough grain coming in from Egypt, but grain alone will not be enough for Rome to survive. He glances over the production reports for the small farmers who had benefited from his lex agraria. Some seem to have been struck hard by recent blights that did not impact the wealthier landowners.

He startles slightly when he hears a groan behind him. It is then that he realizes three things. One, at some point, a servant had entered and put food on the edge of his desk that he had not noticed. Two, there had been multiple hours that had passed. And three, the little Gaul is waking up. 

Julius straightens himself as Asterix rubs his head and glances about quickly. The small Gaul meets his eyes, and there is a shimmer of dignified fury that fades a bit. Then Asterix very purposefully looks away and takes off his helmet. The Gaul begins to fiddle with the blood-darkened feathers, seeming to be trying to clean them with his fingers alone. While the blood is dried and crusted, Julius knows it won't be effective.

Julius stands, and those eyes flash lightning quick to follow his movements. But he has no intention to harm. He keeps a small face-washing station in this room to soothe himself when the stress became overmuch for his brain. He pours water from a pitcher into a bowl, a rag, and some oils, and puts it all in front of the Gaul. Asterix twitches slightly as he sits back down.

“.... Thanks.”

The word is a bite. But there is a note of true thanks there. Julius nods, to show he had heard, and gets back to sorting through the mess on his desk. He hears the water being used with some splashes and soft rustling. Asterix is silent aside from that. Julius taps his fingers, trying to recapture a thought, but it escapes him as he gets distracted by more noise from the Gaul.

Luckily, he is not the first to break the silence.

“What's all that on your desk, Julie?”

Asterix tilts his head and then winces. Julius lets out a huff and pinches a papyrus with his fingers.

“The affairs of state. Takes a lot of tablets and papers to run a civilization.”

Asterix hums fingers threading through the soiled feathers.

“Our chief doesn't have piles of stuff like that at home. Maybe menir or two. Why is there so much of it?”

Julius leans back and feels a small flare of relief to not be looking at the numbers any longer. Sure, he had a set of officials dedicated to keeping things smooth, but he likes to keep an eye on it himself, given all the deceit and bribery in Rome. 

“Part of the reason I’m not up in Gaul myself is because I’m trying to fix and stabilize things here. I may be dictator now, but that doesn't mean much if the civilization collapses after me. I have no interest in following in that particular set of footsteps from Alexander. And I highly doubt your chief has the lives of thousands depending on his policy crafting.”

Asterix scrunches his nose a little.

“I guess not. Not sure why you want an empire at all though. Seems like a chore and a bother.”

Julius shakes his head. As clever as Asterix is, they are two very different kinds of men. One aiming for protection of home and family. Ambitious to have the next meal appear and the next victory won. The other looking to stabilize empire and legacy. Ambitious to have his name carved into the halls of history and hungry for recognition of his nobilitas from the people and gods. And to finally bring an end to the civil wars and strife of the republic.

Julius wonders if they could fully face the small Gaul.

“Perhaps to the lead warrior of a village. And it can be bothersome at times when small villages refuse to surrender.”

Asterix’s eyes light up and a snort comes out.

“Forever and always. Indomitable Gauls don't surrender to Romans.”

There. There is the fierceness and quickness that Julius is used to; the sparking fire of life and resistance that annoys and entertains.

“Mm. And how did it come to pass that you are now so far from that village you hold dear? Lacking weapons and that magic potion of yours?”

Asterix’s fire tempers a little, and his fingers move across the semi-cleaned feathers. Water drips, colored red with the blood. It looks like watered-down wine.

“Things… aren't always simple, even in a small village. There are chores and bothers there, too.”

Ah. Not going to tell him directly. Likely a smart plan. Leaves Julius guessing whether or not it meant a weakness in the village or simply some issue that only impacted Asterix. Though, without their cleverest warrior, the village is likely to be weaker. Something to consider later. 

“I see. I seem to recall you normally have a large friend with you. Where might he be? Do I need to worry over him breaking down the city?”

Asterix flinches ever so slightly and starts cleaning the feathers a little more. 

“Nah, your fancy hut should be fine.”

Asterix puts on a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue to the side.

“For a while at least. Now, I'd like to know what's to be done with me. I know you're fond of lions.”

A non-answer, frustratingly roundabout, and worth thinking over later. Julius leans backwards against his desk, lounging a bit.

“Mm. I was considering that. Or perhaps a pardon.”

He taps his fingers against the desk. Asterix tilts his head, the motion looking odd without the helmet’s wings cocking with it.

“Ooh, you're going to let me go, Julie? Might lead to problems with me moving about Rome freely~.”

Julius rolls his eyes at the cheery tone.

“It is considered rude to set a present free within a day.”

Asterix rolls his eyes and huffs. 

“Right. Rude. Back where I’m from it's rude to give people as slaves.”

“We come from very different worlds, Gaul.”

“Mmmhmm. And yet it's the same earth. Funny that.”

Asterix uses the rag to dry the wings a little bit and then sets the helmet to the side. His stomach grumbles, and Julius silently passes the plate of food. He then goes back to work, knowing the discomfort of being stared at while eating as a prisoner. Those pirates had certainly stared and prodded. He falls back into the paperwork and draws out a proposed plan.

Chapter Text

Julius rises to go meet with his council after a while knowing he cannot leave them be for too long least they het ideas. Asterix had fallen asleep on the pillows and had been snoring quietly in the background. Julius does a visual check to make sure there is no new blood spots. It seems like there is not. He would need to get the Gaul to the private bath house meant for senators and other high ranking officials to make sure the wounds stay clean and healthy. And get him a tunic till the clothes could be repaired. 

He gathers his writings and walks away. He has people to wrangle and convince.

--

Asterix wakes slowly head still pounding. He curls around a stupidly plush pillow and buries his face into it, wanting to sleep and escape the pain. He feels like he has been trampled by a herd of boar. Which… wasnt too far off. His legs still ache from that seemingly endless run. His head pounds from the many throws. 

He peeks out and finds that Julius Caesar is gone. He relaxes a little and cries. Grief crashes over him. He is never going to see his village again. Even if he is freed or escapes, can he go home? Was he successful?? 

Maybe. 

Maybe.

He has no idea for sure. 

The tears fade quickly and he rolls over. Then rolls back to avoid feeling the chains crossing his body. It all aches.

He finds himself growing bored as he curls against the pillows. He sighs softly and rubs his eyes. Even these aches don't seem to be enough of a distraction. If he could just go to sleep again, it might help. But that option seems to be avoiding him right now. He looks around again, rubbing his face with his hands. He looks at the mess of tablets and papers and finds himself curious. 

He doubts that Julius was lying about looking at reports to run his empire. But Asterix is curious as to what exactly is written there. He slowly stands and sways a little, the world spinning slightly. He swallows and lets the world steady before he walks forwards. He gets a little bit of distance and has to stretch his fingers out to just barely graze a tablet. He stretches a bit more, aching a little. 

It tumbles from the table and he draws it close. Huh. Grain information. Well… maybe he can bore himself to sleep. He slowly works through it, the written Latin just a little rusty for him. The abbreviations are what really throw him off. He narrows his eyes and scans working to decode the information and translate it to something meaningful in his head. The distraction lets his mind move away from the pain.

Asterix eventually finishes the tablet and then huffs as pain slowly creeps back in as he now lacks distraction. He had not bored himself back to sleep, and he clicks his tongue. He stands up and stretches out slowly, pulling more tablets down and some scrolls too. he curls up and starts reading and translating. Asterix frowns a little while into his looking as he figures out that there some inconsistencies he must be rustier than he thought. He yawns and closes his eyes, exhaustion coming over him.

--

Julius scowls as he returns to his tablina irritated and tired. The senators were always so persistent in their own pursuits that they often missed the larger picture. He is hungry and ready to do battle with someone or something. But he needs to deposite his scrolls and check on his... slave? Prisoner?

Certainly not a guest, that would imply a level of freedom that is untrue. Slave seems incorrect, but so does prisoner. Barely a day and the Gaul is already creating headaches. He enters the study and blinks, there on the pile of pillows is the snoring Gaul but this time he is surrounded by tablets and scrolls that seem to have been swiped from the desk. What did he hope to achieve with that?

Julius sighs and this seems to stir the other man. 

“Heya, Julie.”

The Gaul says while stretching and putting his helmet on. 

“Is there a reason you stole from my desk?”

Julius decides to be direct about it, tired of the wordplay that ruled senate meetings. Asterix looks at the items and gives a shrug.

“I didn't have much else to do but read. Hey, can you tell me if my translation is off? I think these are supposed to be the same, but its not lining up and my latin might be rusty.”

The Gaul lifts and tablet and a scroll and a bewildered Julius takes them. Then looks over it. Then swears. Asterix tilts his head, the wings of the helmet cocking to give the impression of a curious rabbit. 

“I knew there was something off!”

Julius snarls to himself and then scratches down a quick missive. An overtax on one of his small farmers. Which means there is likely more that were better covered up. Corruption; its as common as marble. He steps out of the study and hands the missive to a guard standing there with instructions on who exactly it needs to reach. He needs that farmer to come in and give a report tonight. 

He returns to the room to find Asterix standing, looking half ready to fight. Julius waves a dismissing hand. 

“You seem to have noted a discrepancy in the report that I need to verify and rectify. You have my thanks. Now let's see about getting you a bath, clean clothes and some food. It would not do for your injuries to fester.”

Asterix seems disarmed for the moment glancing at Julius and then at the scrolls.

“Mm.”

The Gaul makes a small noise and then seems to shake himself.

“You deal with a lot of liars.”

Asterix notes.

“More common than columns here.”

Julius says with a wave of his hand.

“You Romans sure are crazy.”

Asterix notes as he plops back down. Julius rolls his eyes and then unlocks the chains from the wall. 

“Can you walk?”

“Im sure I can try Julie.”

“Would it kill you to be a little more polite?”

“Sure would.”

Asterix grins. 

Chapter Text

One thing that Asterix can admit is better about the Romans is their baths. Heated floors, heated pools, the works. It gives him quite a bit of delight that he cannot manage back home with the buckets and the river. He closes his eyes as he rests in the water, the heat making him want to curl up and sleep. He knows he should use the oils and strigil, but finds himself too tired to really think through the rest of the process of cleaning himself.

“Don't pass out Gaul.”

Julius says. Asterix makes a general noise of response, not wanting to open his eyes and do more. He wants to fall asleep. He slips a little further under with a soft sigh, forming bubbles in the water. He stays submerged and then shifts about to rub down his skin. He knows he cannot stay in the bath forever. Though the thought is very tempting. 

A tunic is waiting when he is done and he scrunches his nose at it once it is on.

“Dont know how you lot can stand to not wear pants.” 

He says and sways a little bit. 

“I dont know how you can stand to wear them.”

Julius says and puts a stabilizing hand on Asterix’s shoulder. Asterix sways a little more, but the hand removes the danger of falling outright. His stomach begins rumbling.

They exit and head to another room. So many rooms. too many in Asterix's opinion. He prefers the simpler layout of homes in his village; there is no chance of getting lost there. He frowns a little in sadness. 

His own hut had been a casualty and he had not had the chance to repair it. He currently has no home.He frowns at the thoughts of the village. He swallows harshly and shakes himself, causing an accidental stumble in his step. Julius catches him before he face plants into the stone floor. Astrix blinks away the spots that decide to swirl about his vision. He shifts his legs to attempt to regain stability.

"We should get you back to the tablina."

Julius sounds... concerned? Which... make sense if the man is trying to keep him alive for some scheme. Asterix hesitates to ask why he is being kept alive. He is not keen on being questioned himself, and so thinks not asking questions might preserve him from that fate a little longer.

"Just give me a moment. Just a moment."

Asterix closes his eyes, centering himself as he had so often done after hard knocks in training to become the village warrior. He rolls his shoulders and moves his feet slowly through fighting stances, feeling calm slip back in like autumn winds through trees. The familiar patterns make him feel secure, a tree firmly rooted to the earth. He opens his eyes and looks a Julius.

"Im ready."

Julius nods and leads him back to the study. Asterix sits back on the pillows, suddenly exhausted. He settles and curls around a pillow as he is relocked in place. 

He must fall asleep at some point, because he finds himself waking up to the sound of Julius scratching away with his stylus on a wax tablet while shuffling through stone and scrolls. Asterix spots food in front of him on a plate on the ground and quickly eats. Once the baying hound in his stomach has been quieted, he finds boredom creeping back in. He stands, stretches, and decides to be a nuisance. If Julius didn't want to deal with him, then old Julie should have locked him in another room.

"What are you reviewing now?"

Asterix asks, pulling the chain taunt and straining to try to see the top of the desk. Julius looks at him and then grabs a stack of papers and passes it over. Asterix blinks as he takes it, and he slowly sits down.

"City committees."

Julius states, before looking back at the tablet he had been reading. Asterix clicks his tongue but takes the potential distraction. He starts reading through what appear to be proposals. He scrunches his nose at the fancy thick language and works to decode what they are asking for and why. Then he spots the little additional notes that Julius had scrawled on them, some biting irritation at requests that served no additional purpose other than to amass influence and powers, some commentary on the language and how it could be better stated to maintain the richness but lose the confusion, and then some notes for alterations. 

It's neat handwriting that has an element of lyricism to it. Fitting for a man so quotable, Asterix supposes. He itches to write out his own ideas as he works through the different tablets. He looks up at Julius, thinking of how to best ask. He decides against it after a moment and settles into silent reading.

There are a few noises in the room. breathing, the rustle of paper, the clink of stone, the scratch of the stylus; each a small instrument in the orchestra of silence. a fuller and deeper silence than normally could be found in Gaul. Even in the woods with its moments of serenity, there was always the potential for the loud clank of metal, the yell of an eager gaul, or the yowl of some animal. a lovely symphony to the ears of a native Gaul, but still not silence like this.

Asterix ends up puzzling over two tablets and decides to simply ask.

"Why are there two groups asking to lead the festival for Minerva?"

Asterix asks, eyes glancing between them.

"Because they both want her favor, and know that it always is headed by the craftsmen guilds committee, they think they can convince me to let them run it."

"Why ask you?"

"Im the Pontifex Maximus, the high priest of Rome. I set the calendar and in charge of ceremony planning in Rome."

Asterix blinks.

"Oh. I guess our chief does some of that. But mainly his wife does the planning, and Getafix, the druid, tells us what ceremonies need to be completed. But aren't you the leader of Rome?"

"Yes."

Julius says with a huff, eyes going back to his wax tablet.

"And head of the army?"

"Yes."

Asterix quirks his mouth.

"And the leader of being annoying?"

"Ye-no!"

Julius blusters, eyes snapping back to Asterix who snickers.

“Sure, Julie, sure. Seems to me you got too much on your plate. Too many people asking things.”

“It’s better to know what they are up to.”

“We say the same thing about the Romans back home.”

Asterix notes before yawning and curling up. 

“You should make them fight each other. If your craftsmen guild is really the best for the job of the festival, they can prove it and then they can hate each other and not you.”

The exhaustion is back and biting at him., 

“Novel idea.”

“Used it more than once before.”

He says and closes his eyes, burning his head into the pillows. He wants to sleep again.

“Mm. It would be entertaining for me to have them verbalize their arguments to each other…”

Asterix falls asleep and misses if Julius says anything else.

Chapter Text

Julius blinks as the Gaul falls asleep in the middle of his sentence. Rude. But that seems to be the way of the Gauls.

Or…

Perhaps it is not seen as rude there. Maybe it's like a cat falling asleep right in front of you. Some sort of sign of trust. 

Julius shakes his head a little and finishes his reports and organizes everything into orderly stacks. He notes that it is almost time for another meeting and…

He needs to leave again. But he would rather the Gaul not hurt himself while trying to find something to do. He goes over to another part of the room that has his unlooked at tablets and papers and moves the state reports on different provinces and their taxes over to the Gaul. 

He can somewhat trust that Asterix will not outright lie about any mistakes he finds. Asterix has no vested interest in covering for Romans. And even if he does, Julius would be checking back himself… another set of eyes would be nice. 

He leaves a wax tablet and stylus as well, figuring that Asterix may like to take notes. Or not. Either way, he has done his part to provide the Gaul with something to do. 

He leaves the room to get to the next meeting, making sure to walk at a leisurely pace. Rome is his to lead, and leaders do not hustle through their own halls. Not unless there is a war on.  He walks purposefully. But while his eyes are forward, his mind stays on the Gaul. He… still is not entirely sure what to do with him. Too clever to let loose on the city, to valuable to simply send back to his village.

…

Julius pauses. 

His village.

Why in Tarturas is the Gaul so far from his village?? He had asked, yes. And Asterix had dodged. He had asked after the other Gaul who stuck to Asterix like a shadow. And Asterix had dodged again. Something had happened there. Something big. Something that made Asterix flinch at the mere question about that shadow. 

But what?

And is it a threat to Rome?

He would have to send  a message to see if any of the four camps around the village had anything to tell him. He mentally kicks himself for not thinking to send demands for information sooner. He scowls to himself and stalks away. 

--

Asterix wakes slowly and blinks. No Julius. Huh. The man must have a meeting or something. There is still some food on the plate, and Asterix scarfs it down. He sits up and rubs at his head, it still hurts. He checks over his other wounds. It seems like they are healing. 

He slowly stretches out and finds that Julius has left tablets and scrolls for him. Oh, nice. Something to do. He notices the wax tablet and stylus and lokes experimentally. Did … did Caesar want him to take notes? The notes would be in Gaullic; his production of correctly written Latin far too rusty for good note-taking. 

He decides to just do it and starts reading and note-taking, rubbing the wax to fix mistakes. He jots any tax inconsistencies down and marvels once more how much worse life would be if his village was responsible for any more territory. 

What a headache!! 

And it seems like Julius really can't take a moment to pause, not with so many moving parts. 

It…

It reminds Asterisk of how he feels at times in the village. A lone voice of reason, combating everyone else to keep what he loves safe. Even Getafix, who is normally his partner in logic and sanity, had moments of pure crazy. 

How must Julius feel?

Asterix frowns. At least he normally had the friendship of Obelix to rely on.

…

Normally.

He finds tears bubbling up and out and he begins to sob. He hides his face in a pillow. Poor poor Obelix. Is his friend okay??? Astrrix does not know. Asterix had done as the druid instructed, but had been thrown before he could see the results. Then he had been scooped up into the slave trade and brought to Julius. 

He swallows harshly as he runs out of water to cry. He looks for anything to drink and finds nothing. Asterix then curls up tighter, miserable. His body shudders in aftershocks of painful emotion. He swallows, desperately trying to control the weeping of his soul. But this won't fade easy. He misses home. Home with trees. Home with straw roofs. Home with Gaullic spoken and written on every inch of everything. Home with warm smiles and a boar for dinner and a big feast to cap off each adventure. And Obelix.

Oh, poor Obelix. 

He so hopes that his dear friend is okay. 

A prayer for his friend springs easily to his lips, and he cries a little more, eyes burning from the amount of work they have to do to draw up more water. He hiccups and scrubs his face violently. He needs to calm down. 

Calm.

Crying has its time and place. But right now is not the time or place. 

He swallows and breathes deeply. He tries reading some more and takes further notes, if only for the distraction. He finds a few irregularities and jots them down. He stretches out on his stomach, perching his chin on a pillow as he reads through the reports. He can still feel tears slipping out once in a while, but he ignores them, hoping that they fade with time. 

He sits up when Julius reenters. A servant… slave? A server comes in behind Julius carrying food. Asterix feels his wings straighten with interest as he spots meat on the plate. The first meat he’s seen that might be for him in days. The food is set down on the table, and the server leaves.  He looks to Julius as the man approaches and unlocks him from the wall.

“I have an extra seat.”

“Oh, I get to eat at the table now. Fancy.”

Asterix says and wobbles on his feet. Julius gives him a steadying hand.

“I could keep you on the floor.”

Asterix puts up a hand.

“So sorry, o’ venerable Caesar. This lowly Gaul apologizes.”

Asterix teases as he gets to the seat. Julius rolls his eyes.

“Im sure you do.”

Julius states. 

“Now eat. I want you to come with me to meet the farmer tonight. We have an hour or so.”

“Aren't you going to eat?”

Asterix asks out of politeness.

“I already did.”

Julius states as he begins to sort the paperwork.