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Drabbles: Loss
Four Historical!Cicero drabbles for this week's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rome100 prompt, Loss.
Today, there was no such thing as loss.
The masses in the Campus Martius still chanted his name, and if the strength of their voices could carry him, he would soar with the very eagles.
Consul. The word rung in his ears, sweeter than any music. As a gawky, stammering boy, he had only imagined this moment in his most foolish daydreams. Yet here he was, buoyed by the will and soul of Rome.
Oh, the end of the course of honor, and the beginning of a new, wondrous thing. Victory behind him, and greatness, for him and Rome, before him.
***
Only loss lingered behind him, and only loss beckoned ahead.
Rome shimmered on the horizon in the early morning light. Dew lingered on tender spring buds, and birdsong broke the uneasy, saturnine silence on the road.
Exile. The word tasted like ashes in his mouth, like defeat. His future, his family’s safety, the life of the Republic, swallowed by the darkness before them.
A chill breeze, the last remnant of night, gusted through the litter, and he clutched his cloak about him. Tears stung at his eyes, and when he blinked them away, the city was gone from view.
***
The ache of loss bit deeper than the winter wind.
The stars looked down upon Tullia’s pyre, strewn with rosemary and cornflowers. He remembered teaching her the constellations, remembered her bouquets, more weeds than wildflowers, pressed shyly into his hand.
He couldn’t bear the weight of the torch. Her hand in his was always light as a feather and yet so strong, imparting him with solace when all seemed lost.
The flames licked at his fingers, but the pain was nothing to the ravages of grief. He would face exile a hundred times before he gave his daughter to the fire.
***
This wasn’t loss.
Loss tasted like the tears of exile, enough to fill the sea. Loss was the humiliating prostrations before Pompey and the sycophantic fawning Caesar required and he too willingly gave. Loss was becoming all but commonplace by the time Caesar and Pompey came to blows, destroying the Republic, and him, in their wake.
Loss keened and wailed like the birds in the woods, haunting his grief-stricken walks. Loss burned, flickering, into eternity.
The tip of the sword, cold on his neck, promised nothing but release. He closed his eyes, gathered his last breath.
No, this wasn’t loss.
rome100 prompt, Loss. Today, there was no such thing as loss.
The masses in the Campus Martius still chanted his name, and if the strength of their voices could carry him, he would soar with the very eagles.
Consul. The word rung in his ears, sweeter than any music. As a gawky, stammering boy, he had only imagined this moment in his most foolish daydreams. Yet here he was, buoyed by the will and soul of Rome.
Oh, the end of the course of honor, and the beginning of a new, wondrous thing. Victory behind him, and greatness, for him and Rome, before him.
***
Only loss lingered behind him, and only loss beckoned ahead.
Rome shimmered on the horizon in the early morning light. Dew lingered on tender spring buds, and birdsong broke the uneasy, saturnine silence on the road.
Exile. The word tasted like ashes in his mouth, like defeat. His future, his family’s safety, the life of the Republic, swallowed by the darkness before them.
A chill breeze, the last remnant of night, gusted through the litter, and he clutched his cloak about him. Tears stung at his eyes, and when he blinked them away, the city was gone from view.
***
The ache of loss bit deeper than the winter wind.
The stars looked down upon Tullia’s pyre, strewn with rosemary and cornflowers. He remembered teaching her the constellations, remembered her bouquets, more weeds than wildflowers, pressed shyly into his hand.
He couldn’t bear the weight of the torch. Her hand in his was always light as a feather and yet so strong, imparting him with solace when all seemed lost.
The flames licked at his fingers, but the pain was nothing to the ravages of grief. He would face exile a hundred times before he gave his daughter to the fire.
***
This wasn’t loss.
Loss tasted like the tears of exile, enough to fill the sea. Loss was the humiliating prostrations before Pompey and the sycophantic fawning Caesar required and he too willingly gave. Loss was becoming all but commonplace by the time Caesar and Pompey came to blows, destroying the Republic, and him, in their wake.
Loss keened and wailed like the birds in the woods, haunting his grief-stricken walks. Loss burned, flickering, into eternity.
The tip of the sword, cold on his neck, promised nothing but release. He closed his eyes, gathered his last breath.
No, this wasn’t loss.
no subject
Hey, I am reading this book and I immediately thought of you. It's by Robert Harris, and it's called Imperium, and is the story of Cicero as told by his slave Tiro.
no subject
Oh, I've read Imperium and I *cannot* wait for the sequels and the Cataline conspiracy and possibly his exile. It took me a while to get into Harris' style but it was so worth it once I did. How far are you in the book? *cheers that someone else is reading it*
no subject
It is hard to get into at first. But I'm about 3/4 of the way through, Cicero is still dealing with the extortion court and the prosecution of Catalina hasn't started yet, but they're talking about it and the difference between going after him and prosecuting Verres.
no subject
The prosecution of Verres was absolutely spellbinding (the trip to Sicily had me holding my breath during the most of it), but the story of his run for consul was equally compelling, although Tiro's whole "nothing really happened in these two years, so I'm skipping over them" felt a little odd.
But even for his heavy writing style, I absolutely *love* Harris' Cicero. He's so very human - pompous and vain and yet so idealistic and devoted. The scenes with his family especially pulled at my heart - Terentia is so fiery and little Tullia just makes me melt. When she said she wanted to marry Tiro it was so sweet without being saccharine at all.
But two more Cicero books to look forward to! Coupled with any more writing that comes out of the fandom it will keep me happy for some time. :)