Hey, I like that scenario. So I wrote a little alternate ending for you. :)
***
Octavius' eyes flutter open. His mind is heavy, his thoughts still fuzzy, but he can make out Tyrannus watching him with grim concern. He can see the torsion of fear in the guards' faces. At first, he thinks it is simply the presence of his mentor, whose mere glance has been known to strike terror in even the most stalwart heart. But the way the men stare at him, their eyes stricken with dread, their mouths falling open in shock and amazement, leads him to believe that they have at last discovered their fatal mistake.
"We didn't know it was you, my lord," Octavius hears the head guard stuttering obsequiously. "We didn't know."
Tyrannus' strong arm closes around Octavius' shoulder, easing him up, and he says very softly in his ear. "Can you walk, boy?"
Octavius nods, and Tyrannus helps him off the table. The contact with the hard ground jars him all through his body. He aches everywhere, but he shakes off Tyrannus' assistance and draws himself up to his full height.
"My clothes, if you please," he says, his voice regal, trembling with authority.
One guard scurries off to fetch them. The others sink to their knees.
"Forgive us, my lord. We beg you," they beseech him, again and again, with the pitiful desperation of men who know they are about to die.
When the guard returns with Octavius' garments, Tyrannus scowls fiercely at their ill-used condition, but Octavius pays no heed. He pulls on his clothes with deliberate dignity and stands there a king, though his raiment is dirty and come-spoiled. He is beginning to understand what Tyrannus means when he says, "You will be emperor of Rome when you believe you are."
"We do beg your pardon, my lord," the head guard abjectly grovels. "How could we have known it was you?"
Octavius stares at him coldly. "You could have listened to me when I told you so."
The corridor back out to the street is even longer and darker than Octavius remembers, but he has found his strength now and walks unaided. As they reach the door, Tyrannus takes his own cloak and wraps it around Octavius to hide the telltale condition of his clothes.
He gently tucks a curl behind Octavius' ear, an old gesture of affection from his boyhood. "Are you all right?"
Octavius nods, feeling the resolve in him as hard as iron. From this day on, he knows, he will never be weak again.
"They must be punished," he tells his mentor matter-of-factly.
Tyrannus smiles. "Oh, they will be. Don't you worry."
Tyrannus opens the door for him, and they emerge back out into the twilight. For a moment, Octavius feel almost light-headed with the simple freedom of a fresh breath of air. He spies a group of men waiting near the door and recognizes them as associates of Tyrannus, the kind he never wants Octavius to know very much about. Tyrannus nods, and the men snap to attention, steeled to act.
Octavius interjects, using the commanding tone that Tyrannus has taught him, "None of them should die quickly or easily, but the head guard I wish brought to me. I have plans for him. You may, though, relieve him of his manhood first."
For a moment, Tyrannus looks stunned, and the men seem confused about whether they should obey. But then Tyrannus bows deeply to Octavius and says, "As you wish, my lord."
Tyrannus' men nod and quietly slip inside, their swords drawn.
"Come," Tyrannus says. "Let's get you home."
Octavius throws a backward glance at the prison as they head down the street. He likes to imagine he can hear the wails of doomed men coming from inside.
"What will you do with him?" Tyrannus asks quietly as they walk along.
Octavius' mouth curves into a brutal smile. "I will teach him that there are worse things than death."
In that moment, he has the blood of his uncle, the blood of Rome in his veins. Tyrannus meets his glance, and it is as if they can both see his future. He will fulfill Caesar's wish. He will triumph.
Tyrannus nods, and they continue on.
Octavius adds softly, a thought that is only for himself, "And I will teach myself that this day never happened."
no subject
***
Octavius' eyes flutter open. His mind is heavy, his thoughts still fuzzy, but he can make out Tyrannus watching him with grim concern. He can see the torsion of fear in the guards' faces. At first, he thinks it is simply the presence of his mentor, whose mere glance has been known to strike terror in even the most stalwart heart. But the way the men stare at him, their eyes stricken with dread, their mouths falling open in shock and amazement, leads him to believe that they have at last discovered their fatal mistake.
"We didn't know it was you, my lord," Octavius hears the head guard stuttering obsequiously. "We didn't know."
Tyrannus' strong arm closes around Octavius' shoulder, easing him up, and he says very softly in his ear. "Can you walk, boy?"
Octavius nods, and Tyrannus helps him off the table. The contact with the hard ground jars him all through his body. He aches everywhere, but he shakes off Tyrannus' assistance and draws himself up to his full height.
"My clothes, if you please," he says, his voice regal, trembling with authority.
One guard scurries off to fetch them. The others sink to their knees.
"Forgive us, my lord. We beg you," they beseech him, again and again, with the pitiful desperation of men who know they are about to die.
When the guard returns with Octavius' garments, Tyrannus scowls fiercely at their ill-used condition, but Octavius pays no heed. He pulls on his clothes with deliberate dignity and stands there a king, though his raiment is dirty and come-spoiled. He is beginning to understand what Tyrannus means when he says, "You will be emperor of Rome when you believe you are."
"We do beg your pardon, my lord," the head guard abjectly grovels. "How could we have known it was you?"
Octavius stares at him coldly. "You could have listened to me when I told you so."
The corridor back out to the street is even longer and darker than Octavius remembers, but he has found his strength now and walks unaided. As they reach the door, Tyrannus takes his own cloak and wraps it around Octavius to hide the telltale condition of his clothes.
He gently tucks a curl behind Octavius' ear, an old gesture of affection from his boyhood. "Are you all right?"
Octavius nods, feeling the resolve in him as hard as iron. From this day on, he knows, he will never be weak again.
"They must be punished," he tells his mentor matter-of-factly.
Tyrannus smiles. "Oh, they will be. Don't you worry."
Tyrannus opens the door for him, and they emerge back out into the twilight. For a moment, Octavius feel almost light-headed with the simple freedom of a fresh breath of air. He spies a group of men waiting near the door and recognizes them as associates of Tyrannus, the kind he never wants Octavius to know very much about. Tyrannus nods, and the men snap to attention, steeled to act.
Octavius interjects, using the commanding tone that Tyrannus has taught him, "None of them should die quickly or easily, but the head guard I wish brought to me. I have plans for him. You may, though, relieve him of his manhood first."
For a moment, Tyrannus looks stunned, and the men seem confused about whether they should obey. But then Tyrannus bows deeply to Octavius and says, "As you wish, my lord."
Tyrannus' men nod and quietly slip inside, their swords drawn.
"Come," Tyrannus says. "Let's get you home."
Octavius throws a backward glance at the prison as they head down the street. He likes to imagine he can hear the wails of doomed men coming from inside.
"What will you do with him?" Tyrannus asks quietly as they walk along.
Octavius' mouth curves into a brutal smile. "I will teach him that there are worse things than death."
In that moment, he has the blood of his uncle, the blood of Rome in his veins. Tyrannus meets his glance, and it is as if they can both see his future. He will fulfill Caesar's wish. He will triumph.
Tyrannus nods, and they continue on.
Octavius adds softly, a thought that is only for himself, "And I will teach myself that this day never happened."