Teen Wolf The Puella and the Parthian

"Would you come on, Secundus?" Lydia's words echoed through the peristylium, prompting a sternglance from her mother, which she promptly ignored. "Minerva help me, if we miss the procession because you're brushing those beasts a third time..."

"_Ignosce mihi, domina." _Secundus hastened into the room, mud caking his sandals. "Your father was most insistent that I have Maximus brushed and ready for his trip to Brundisium tomorrow."

"Do I look like I care an _as_ for father's trading missions to Brundisium?" She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and yanked him toward the atrium. "It's not as if the state of his horse will get him a better price for his linens. He should spend less time worried about that petulant beast and more looking into how his competition can afford to import higher quality merchandise from Egypt for a third the price."

"Lydia!" Her mother straightened from her tending of the garden's white rosebushes to block her departure. "It is hardly appropriate for a young lady to speak of such things!"

"You're always telling me to pay more attention to my weaving," Lydia shot back. "Surely what happens to the cloth after it's left my loom is as worthy of my notice as the warp and weft."

"My dear, you know full well that's not what I meant when-"

Seeing her mother about to launch into another tirade, Lydia kissed her quickly on the cheek and pronounced, "Never mind, mother - I shan't be talking about trade relations with any young men of reputable family at the procession. I swear it to Venus herself."

Her mother's expression was distinctly dubious. "I still don't know why you insist on going to such a plebeian spectacle. Mobs of people, near rioting in the streets, gods know what sort of long-haired heathens running around."

"Which is why I'm taking Secundus." Lydia had realized long ago that if she held out long enough, her mother's belief that prolonged debate was unladylike would finish the work for her. "I'll be perfectly protected."

"Oh very well." Her mother threw her hands in the air in what had become a familiar gesture of capitulation. Lydia did her best not to smirk. "Just...try to stay out of trouble."

"Don't I always?" She threaded her arm through Secundus' and sidled past her mother into the atrium. "And you can tell Grumio he needn't hold dinner for us - I'm sure we can find something to sate our appetites in the Subura."

As she wove her way past the impluvium, Lydia could have sworn she heard a muttered, "That's exactly what I'm afraid of..."

Less than an hour later, Lydia was impatiently hoisting Secundus up behind her on the portico of the Temple of Saturn, trying to keep her eyes trained on the procession of strange and miraculous sights winding its way up the hill.

"I don't even know what we're celebrating, _domina_," Secundus interjected. His face bore the confused expression that tended to grace it whenever he encountered anything that required the use of his mind.

She fixed him with an amused look. "I would have thought that with all that time you spend sneaking off to the imperial palace, you might have picked up one or two relevant pieces of public news."

His face flushed crimson as he muttered, "I'm sure I do not know what you're speaking about, _domina_..."

He looked so abashed that she had no choice but to put him out of his misery. "As you should know, our beloved _princeps _has bargained Mars-knows-what with the dreaded Parthians for the return of our standards. He wishes us to take this as a sign of his influence and our prosperity."

"Ah!" His expression was relieved for a moment, before returning once more to its confused state. "You said 'he wishes us'...does that mean it's not true?"

She sighed and patted his shoulder. "Patterned sticks and empty words do not a king make, nor a _princeps. _Still, I will not begrudge him the opportunity of putting on such a show."

Surveying the festivities, she had to admit it was a true spectacle, even by Roman standards. Dancers in bright silks wove their way around exotic warriors brandishing curved swords. Men with bulging muscles led leopards and tigers on leashes in practiced circles, pausing every so often to startle the crowd.

But these were merely the _gustatio_ compared to the feast of that followed them. Six riders, seemingly marble statues coaxed to life, rode in battle formation, each mounted on an identical jet black steed. Their garb was almost garishly colorful - fringed vests, billowing pants, and strangely-shaped caps were all rendered in hues of turquoise or amber.

What caught Lydia's notice the most, however, was worn not only by the riders, but their horses as well: leather quivers, nearly bursting with shining silver arrows, flanked each saddle and were matched by the single quiver on the rider's back. She had only a few moments to wonder what these men would need with so many arrows before discovering why firsthand.

"Look!" Secundus shouted excitedly, drawing her attention to a small man pulling a cart a short distance in front of the riders. Lydia watched, puzzled, as he opened up a cage and released a small flock of birds into the air. Her confusion was soon replaced with wonder when she returned her gaze to the riders and watched as, one by one, each sent a silver arrow straight through an avian heart.

Another rush of wings beat at the sky, six more perfectly arching arrows felled their movement. By this point, the crowd had overcome their initial stunned silence and erupted into wild cheers, whistles, and shouts.

"Are they not the most magnificent thing you have ever seen, _domina_?" Secundus was practically bouncing up and down with excitement himself.

"They are...something else," she admitted. It was not her style to seem overly impressed.

"Especially that one in the back, with the red sash? By Hercules, he's a god sent from Olympus!"

Though she had not been examining the riders individually, once looking, Lydia knew immediately which one had caught Secundus' eye. Indeed, she wondered how she could have missed him before - his confident posture and magnificent flowing locks instantly commanded the eye.

Yet the longer she looked, the more something seemed...wrong about him. She attempted to catalogue his physical characteristics, but could find no fault.

His hair was black and glossy, tumbling down his back in waves; its texture was echoed in the impressive mustache perched on his upper lip. When drawing back his bow string to take a shot, she could see his arm muscles working in perfect tandem with those in his thighs, which were controlling the horse.

Perhaps it was something in the arrangement of his features - if she mentally removed the facial hair, they were undeniably fine, even beautiful. The turn of his hips was similarly delicate, as was the narrowing of his waist. In fact, if she hadn't known better, Lydia would have said he was...

"_Di immortales!" _she exclaimed softly. "Unless I'm mistaken - which, as you know, occurs with the frequency of a solar eclipse - that _he _you admire so greatly isn't a _he_ at all."

The silence that followed made it clear that this pronouncement was far too much for Secundus' meager reasoning skills to process. It was entire minutes later that he uttered an audible gasp and whispered, "You can't mean..."

"I'm afraid so." If she'd been excited by the rider before, it was nothing compared to her interest level now. "We gaze, dear Secundus, not on Caeneus, but Caenis."

His eyes widened almost comically. "But at all those muscles!"

"You clearly haven't been blessed enough to visit the women's baths. Believe me, muscles prove nothing." Her lips quirked into a smile at the thought of the uses she'd found for such muscles in the private alcoves of an _apodyterium _or two_._

His gaze began to flit between her and the subject of debate. "That killer instinct in his eye!"

"Do you remember nothing of those tragedies I've dragged you to?" She shouldn't have been surprised; thinking on it, Lydia distinctly remembered him falling asleep before the end of the _Medea_ they'd seen the previous week. "A woman can kill as well as a man, have no doubt of that."

"Well, I still can't believe it." She knew from experience that once Secundus had gone to the effort of making up his mind about something, it usually took something spectacular to change it again.

This sparked an idea that made the smile on her lips turn smug. "If you're so sure you're right, how about a wager?" She draped her palla playfully around his neck. "If I win, you have to escort me to the Subura the next time Roscia throws one of her gladiator parties."

"Your father would have me flogged!" he exclaimed. "And that's if your mother doesn't find me first."

"Ah, but if you win," she said, knowing the precise weak spot at which to target her arrow, "I'll cover for you with Grumio for a whole week so you can sneak off to the Palatine, maybe spend some quality time with that wine steward who looks like Apollo?"

Watching Secundus' eyes glaze over, she knew in an instant that she, always the merchant's daughter, had won the trade.

"All right," Secundus said quietly, "But how will we do it? It's not as if we can march up to the Temple of Jupiter and ask him."

"Oh, that part's child's play, Secundus," she said with a wave of her hand. "I'll simply arrange for them to be the guests of honor at Father's party tomorrow."

"And then?" He looked distinctly apprehensive at the thought of whatever she had in mind.

"Then," she said, smiling sweetly, "I find out the truth. And if I have to use some...unorthodox methods of investigation, well, so be it."

She couldn't think of anything in recent memory that she'd looked forward to more.


End file.

Teen Wolf, Drama, Romance