The Lady Out of Time

4 - League

 Julia's eyes ran down the line of the general's body, assessing every inch of him with a thoroughness that she usually reserved for dissecting her clients' spouses. He was a tall man, broad in the shoulders with a quietly powerful build. His dark, deep-set eyes along with a head of perfectly groomed black hair hinted at a hard, serious nature, and his actions thus far hadn't disproved that. Early thirties? A good guess. He seemed to be about the same age she was - or at least, the same age as her real body. And he had sharp, handsome features that she couldn't help but admire, too, but this wasn't the time to ask him out for a drink.

Tragic. It had been a while since she had seen a specimen that measured up to her standards. 

She examined him some more, taking in as much of him as she could in this momentary lull so that she could deduce his identity. If Anna's reaction to his presence hadn't been clue enough, the long, elegant white toga that he wore over his fine wool tunic went far to tell Julia who he was. This was the attire of a wealthy man, a powerful man...likely the lord of the villa. She looked back up from his feet to his face with her mouth curled into a contemplative frown, and she found him staring back at her with an inscrutable expression.

Interesting. If she had met this man opposite her in the courtroom, she would have raised her hackles and prepared herself for war.

"You don't look feral," he remarked, his voice low and resonant. "But you could have fooled me a moment ago."

There was no accusation in his words. Just a cool, marble-smooth composure that put her on her guard even more.

"I'm only feral when protecting my rights," she replied crisply. "I think any man in his right mind would do the same...or woman."

Another long look passed between them.

"What is that you were protecting them from?" he asked, and she pointed over her shoulder with a jerk of her thumb.

"That," she said. "Given that it's dangerous, unsanitary work without proper preparation or help, I think Annia is out of her mind to try to get me to do something that she won't lift a finger to do herself."

"So you don't want to clean the cesspools...?"

"I'd rather die."

At her words, Julia saw him freeze, and she tensed as well with a curl of her toes. Common sense told her that it was dangerous to push the boundaries of societal expectation like this - in the eyes of this man, after all, she was nothing but a captured slave, unfit even to touch his toga. But sometimes, common sense wasn't the weapon to wield when going into a fight, especially when she knew that this incident today would set the precedent for the rest of the time she was trapped in this nightmare realm.

Maybe this man would only hear her out long enough to beat her too, and worse than Annia. Who could know? Just because he looked unflappably calm and carried a hair-raising yet intriguing intensity around with him didn't mean that he couldn't order a thrashing upon her. He had more than enough slaves to carry it out for him while he sauntered off to handle more important things.

And yet he continued to stare at her, fixing that dark, unblinking gaze on her face in silence. Until finally, a slow smile curved his mouth.

"I've never met someone so eager to die," he said. "What's your name, girl?"

Girl? Girl - for a moment, she almost forgot her attraction to the man and bristled at the condescending address...until she remembered that she actually was a girl now, at least in appearance. She cursed her luck. She had been standing here for the past minute thumbing through the best ways to flirt with him and express her interest, forgetting that she was just a skinny little teenager instead of her luscious, toned, mature self.

God. All that Crossfit for nothing.

"I'm Julia," she answered. "...What's yours?"

He didn't reply except with a continued smile, and she sulked a bit at his rock-hard resilience to her charms. Fine, then. It wasn't as if she was here to stay. As soon as she found a way back home, she would pick up the first hot man she saw with a six pack and nice back muscles to screw into oblivion. This guy? Please. Just because the cut of his jaw made her thighs feel a little weak didn't mean he was all that.

"Head inside and clean yourself up," the man told her. "You've escaped the cesspools today."

No, wait -

"Is there a lady of the house? Or a lady-to-be?" she asked. "You seem like you'd be a lot of women's type, mine included. Can't imagine that someone like you would be unattached."

Hey, who cared? This was all temporary anyway. She might as well try her luck while she could...but still he said nothing. In fact, his smile only grew as if he were on the verge of laughing. But that wasn't enough to make her throw in the towel: she waited for him to say something else (oh, come on, at least one sexy glance? No?). But when he turned and headed back toward the villa proper without another word, she rolled her eyes and followed him at a distance.

* * * * *

"For the love of God, just tell me his name," Julia snapped at Aela as they settled into bed in the darkness of the slave quarters. "I've asked at least half a dozen people this afternoon, and no one is answering me -"

"Because you should know already," the girl replied. "Is this some kind of joke? A prank?"

"No -"

"And it's also because you've made almost everyone here hate you," Aela continued without prompting as she rustled the scratchy sheets they shared. "So if you really went around asking a ridiculous question like that, no one's going to trust your intentions, and even if they did, they won't answer you because they don't like you."

Julia blinked. Scaredy-cat, rabbit-like Aela had suddenly grown a fierce bite all of a sudden. Not that it intimidated her - but it was surprising enough to render her speechless for a moment.

"What the - my intentions? I'm just asking for a name, that's all. Why is everyone so paranoid?"

But all the girl did was shake her head and settle down with a muffled whump on the hay-filled mattress. She turned on her side, presenting Julia with her back.

"Aela, the name."

No answer, and it was getting late. She was getting nasty looks thrown at her from the other beds in the quarters, gleaming scowls that reflected eerily under the single torch light flickering near the door.

Julia gnashed her teeth. She didn't have a choice, so she would gird her loins and lower herself for the sake of getting answers.

"Aela...please."

The girl didn't move for a moment, but Julia waited it out. She could read her like a book; she would give her what she wanted with that one minor concession.

Also, she wasn't about to just give up after she had stooped to begging.

"....Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa," came the eventual quiet response. "Not that we would ever call him by his name...but I think everyone else just calls him Agrippa."

Julia let her head fall back on her pillow, barely noticing its rock-hard discomfort or the way Aela pulled the worn covers up with a yank. She simply patted down the top of it and shrugged it away from her face as she stared up at the darkened ceiling, following the faint flickers of the torch light's flame with her eyes.

Seriously? Agrippa?

The Agrippa?

The right hand man and esteemed favorite general of the emperor, one of the most notable figures in all the era of the Roman Republic? The same man who had brought about the defeat of Marc Antony and Cleopatra, the prodigy strategist who conquered every one of the emperor's enemies, never flinching, never faltering?

Not only that, but also a noble statesman and famous architect, scholarly and learned on top of having a stack of military accomplishments few other Romans ever even dreamed of achieving?

That Agrippa?

Julia scowled. Of course she would end up as a slave to a man who was so far out of her league. And she wasn't talking about skinny little Julia's league, either. Her real self, the divorce attorney who was the scourge of all New York City - on paper, her accomplishments probably didn't even compare to such a historic figure.

...Hold up. No, no. She wasn't about to get a confidence check two thousand years before she was even supposed to be born by a man who never had to deal with modern tribulations. Agrippa had been born into privilege and simply took it farther than most, that was all. If she had been born into equivalent circumstances, she would probably have done even better. Actually, she was certain of it, completely.

With an angry scoff, she turned on her side and wheeled her legs to throw the covers off of them.

Agrippa, she thought.

Ugh.