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A thin lonely wail rose up in the dark night, quivering higher and higher in the air, crying out against the dark cold night and the snow that was blowing through the small soldier's encampment. The wolf cried out, raging and seeking, making soldiers lift their heads up wearily as the voice was soon answered by another and another, picked up at all sides as the great forests of Gaul were echoing with the hungry cries. They howled every night, starting just at dark, cruel creatures that were filled with bloodlust and rage so the soldiers didn't dare step past the flickering torches that had been set up at the edges of the tents. No one bothered digging more trenches to relieve themselves in, no one wanted to risk going past the ring of light and towards the howling creatures that loomed in the forest. They were waiting, always waiting, circling and howling and always ready for one soldier to cross the barrier and into their fangs.

Marcius reached his hands up to press against his forehead as the howling picked up again, louder now, loud enough that he could hear the sentries muttering outside in answer. His tent stood just at the edge of the encampment, almost pressed right against the wild wood itself, right near where the sentries had made a small lean to that allowed them to keep most of the cold winds from them as they stood guard. The Seventh Legion had arrived here seven months ago, sent as a mission to overtake the valley, subdue the Gauls and start the first preparations for extending the Northern wall. They had been five thousand and four hundred strong when they arrived, a force to be reckoned with when taking a small valley, and now they were down to nine hundred, perhaps less. No matter what the Captain said, they were losing and losing badly, and still no orders or relief had come.

He had been a young drake when he had been conscripted and entered into the legion, one of nearly two hundred from his province that had hopes of gaining riches and a name for his family. They had only a farm, a small estate, but with wealth from war he could increase that, he could find a life for himself, a wife.. They had specifically been targeting the wingless dragons, the lower species that had the weight and heft to carry pikes and spears. He had no illusions that he would be allowed into the cavalry or would get anywhere near the First File, but he could serve with honor. He had believed he would serve his length of years before being able to gain citizenship, a marriage, a family, a home. Already he had war bounty enough in silver to assure he could purchase land and a farm of his own. The rest of the drakes that served with him had similar dreams and hopes, until Gaul. Until this hellish land that was taking them down by bits and pieces.

He had been told that there were barbarians here that needed to be placated, he had seem them in Rome in the slave markets several times. They were always exotic looking, painted with strange markings and tattooed, acting like wild beasts as they snapped and snarled. He had been told that well over half of any captured enemies would suicide within the first month, preferring death to serving the Roman Empire. How foolish they had seemed as they had marched here, ready to tackle the enemy and wipe them out over the course of a month. They had all bragged that they would find a fine wild female to take to their tent, laughing and drinking. And now it was all whispers in the dark as the night as they had faced the reality and it had swallowed them whole.

Night after night the wolves came, and not four legged beasts that could be scared away with a fire, but cruel warriors that attacked ruthlessly to pick them off as they slept or ate. The fires held them back, somewhat, but every morning more went missing and their bodies found in the snow. During the day they were harried and ambushed, they couldn't hunt, couldn't fight, they were striking at hungry ghosts. Their losses were piling up, sickness ran rampant as they couldn't move their camp and keep it as clean as it should be. The battles they did fight were violent, traps meant to lure them out before they attacked with fire and ferocity, never seeming to care how many died as long as their Legion was whittled down. It was only a matter of time until they were bones in the snow, food for the ravens and wolves. The young centurion flung his shin guard across the tent and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the wolves continued to wail their unearthly calls to the darkness.

"Marcius?" A soft voice forced his head up from his hopeless contemplation, a voice that wasn't filled with the blood curdling howls or the nervous voices of the sentries. "You didn't come for dinner."

"Why should I bother?" He closed his eyes as the flap to his tent stirred so that a slender form could push it to one side. Cold flooded the tent, but there was also the sharp scent of onion and watered down meat. "Aurelia, you didn't come all the way here to bring me food, did you?"

"You need to keep up your strength." The slender dragoness slipped into the tent neatly and closed the flap behind her as securely as she could manage. "I didn't want you to go to bed hungry."

_So I can die with a full stomach, more for those cannibals to eat. _He resisted the urge to reply with that thought, but kept his muzzle shut.

Aurelia was one of fifty camp servants left, most had already gone back with the injured in the hopes that they would be able to reach Rome unmolested for not actively offering harm to the natives. She was a young thing, lovely in her own way, with a pattern of gold on cream scales that made her stand out from the older hardened cooks and servants. There had been other young women, but they had left in the first rush, now they had been whittled down to old campaigners that were willing to stay on. There was little guess work involved in knowing why Aurelia worked in the camp, it was the same reason any young woman ended up in that lowly position, she was the daughter of a whore. There was no marriage waiting for her, no hope of fortune or comfort, she would either become a whore like her mother or remain a servant of the Imperial Legions as she was now until she became one of the hardened retainers that followed behind the legion.

Still, she was a gentle face, not hardened as the rest of the servants and willing to be kind instead of dismissive. At least, with him she was, he had often found her setting aside his portion if he was on sentry duty or running late. The small kindnesses were a relief in the harsh fear and tension that he had experienced from the first month of being in this hellhole. It made him hold his tongue as she offered him the earthenware bowl that was filled with a 'soup' made up of dried beef, some onions and potatoes. The same meal that had most days, ever since their stores had been raided and spoiled, just enough to keep them going, just enough to make sure that he would be able to fight at will. He took it gently, inclining his head to the serving girl.

"They're howling again." The slender dragoness wrapped her arms around herself, turning her head towards fabric tent. "Will they never stop?"

"No." He took a sip of the broth, fighting not to wrinkle his nose. "The sentries are doubled tonight. They've seen wildcats in the forest, they're trying to come in closer."

He tried his best to keep his eyes away from her, he didn't want to let her see anything more than what he offered to her. From the first day that he had saw her, he had been drawn to her, the gold of her scales, the way that she carried herself, the lack of coarseness that he had seen in so many other workers. He had nearly spoken to her, wanting to know her, but he had possessed a veteran campaigner as his tent mate at the time that had nearly howled with laughter when he asked after her. He was the son of a farmer that didn't even have true Roman citizenship, he had no loot stolen from war, he had no coin to give her for his affections. Better that he grab one of the harsh older women who had a soft spot for wet scaled drakes than attempt one so lovely as Aurelia. That had stopped him, the mockery, the laughter at the idea that he could ever try to approach her and gain anything except her contempt. It had been the start of his service, how could he know anything except what those older and wiser had told him?

It was after their first skirmish that he saw what old Brokus had been attempting to do, and had been infuriated by it. Aurelia was no whore, she had no patron, she worked serving food and often times repairing their clothing. But by then it had been too late, he had treated her civilly enough, but had partially rebuffed her attempts to be friendly for fear of that she had been paid off to make a fool of him. It had happened before, he had seen the whores bought to approach new campaigners and set them up, it was a hazing that he wanted to avoid. He had been so new and shiny, so eager to be accepted that he had overlooked his chance. She was friendly to him, but the warmth had faded from when he had first spoken to him, she treated him well, but gave no hint as to if his attentions would have been welcome. And now.. now it was too late. Too many might have beens.

"Why do you not turn back? Simply leave them to their forests?" Aurelia made no move to leave as she continued to staring at the canvas of tent. "They have taken so many lives already. Is that not enough to give them their reward?"

"It is not my place to govern our steps, it's to take my stand and fight." He sighed a little and lifted his head as another howl burst from the darkness. "They can't hold forever, eventually they must fall back, or we will get enough men to make a push forward. I go where they command me, it is my honor, my privilege to march for my home and family."

He stared down at his hands, the deep bronze coloring had started to show rough edges from the cold and harsh use, there were pale gold outlines where the coloring had worn away. Once they had been such a bold color, once his horns had been long and straight, not rough and chipped from the armor that he had to fasten over them. It seemed like half a world away that he had lived with his family and basked in the warmth of the sun, the golden wheat fields that had smelled of rich sweet fertile ground. A hand touched the back of his own, the gold scales so soft against his own with that brief touch, but it was enough that he lifted his eyes to see Aurelia's softened gaze. His heart leapt to his throat at that gaze, the gentle edge to them, the warmth reflected back to him.

"You could leave, you could escape south and return home and from this hellish place." Her voice was so soft, barely a whisper, but it was a whisper of treason and desertion that made Marcius draw his hand back from her.

"It is my honor, Aurelia, my duty to serve here. If it is my death I go to, then I will go to it, for the sake of the Empire." His voice was cold as he spoke, stiffening only to see a flash of hurt in her eyes as he withdrew from her.

The young drake didn't try to stop her as she withdrew from his tent, what would he say? She couldn't possibly understand why he was here and what he was doing. If he left, his family would be killed, his mother and father, his brothers and sisters would be taken as slaves if they were lucky, but they would suffer. This was his duty and his honor, he couldn't forsake it, not when it was hard and dangerous, not when the risk of loss was so great. They would advance and the eagle would advance with them. He would have his name written in the record books as a hero, a soldier, he would advance to becoming an officer and earn a marriage that would ensure no one forgot his family name. Aurelia could never imagine that, she had no name to begin with, how could she possibly understand his desire? Or his duty?

He wanted to go after her as he sat in his tent along, he wanted to bring her back and try to make her see why he did what he did. He wanted to take the hurt from her eyes with a touch, but there was no room here for that softness. He steeled himself and dropped back on his bunk, resisting the urge to approach her. Even if he dared to do so, he couldn't, not now. What could he offer her? Mourning his death? Better to keep silent, better to hide his feelings instead of giving her nothing but a sad memory to carry with her. He dropped into his bunk and dragged his cover up and over him, not caring to strip any further as the wolves howled beyond the storm. It was better for them both if he didn't say, she would only have him out of pity and even if she wanted him, he could only leave her the memory of a dead soldier.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Aurelia approached her tent, a small cold affair next to the tent used for cooking, and felt the chill in the air similar to the one in her heart. She couldn't bring herself to do more than push the flap aside and slip beneath the canvas, sliding over the bed that was the only barrier between herself and the ground. The bed was at least warm, the feathers used from the chickens that had long since been killed had been sewn into the bedding so that it was both warm and soft, a benefit that she savored as she did little more than peel off the coverings on her feet and wriggled beneath the warmth. She could have had better, she had been told that many of the camp followers earned positions in soldiers' beds and shared their warmth and meager comforts, but she refused.

She had watched her mother in the camp when she was a child, she had been hatched on the road, and grew serving the officers as a maid to their tents. Her mother had won the attention of one of the men who kept tally of their supplies and so she had been raised with enough food in her belly, and kindly instead of like her fellows. Her virginity had never been sold on the trail to a soldier with the most gold, she had seen other young females at the camp fires with their mothers or aunts or sisters auctioning them off. Poor shivering things that had looked ready to be sick, but had put on a brave face for the gold. Some were only deflowered, but many had stories of those who had been beaten and violated, left bleeding in a tent until they were allowed to leave and seek a healer.

She had never been forced to go that route, because she had had her mother's benefactor, but that had only lasted until she grew older. That had only lasted until she had come into her first blush of fertility and then the old gryphon had turned his eyes on her and away from her mother. She didn't know if her mother would have sold her, in the end, the first refusal was enough to have them both lose his kindness. They had been put out and it was there her mother had serviced the soldiers, while Aurelia had taken up residence with the cooks and kitchen people. Her mother had died in a campaign, an accident, a casualty when their camp was raided, and that was that. She had continued to work in the kitchens and had refused every attempt to claim her. She had no interest in the rough soldiers and hardened males that just wanted to stick their organs in her and spray out the fear she would bear their clutch. She wanted only to live. She had had her lovers, true, but they were never soldiers, never those that saw her as little more than the daughter of a whore. That she would not tolerate.

And I do not know if I will live long.. She stared up at her tent as the wolves howled through the darkness. Every day they were closer to death, and she wanted nothing more than to get back on the road again.

But she stayed. She didn't stay for the meager money, nor for the lack of anywhere to go. She could have served any Legion just as well as this, no, she stayed for those who stood in the lines. The males that were so terribly young looking and afraid, who rose each day to face the worst beside those that had seen battle a hundred times. She stayed to offer them what kindness she could, with the knowledge that many would not come back to her at the end of the day. She had lost count of how many had already fallen, how many once familiar faces were blurred away. But that was why she stayed, why she would continue to stay.

You stay for him. _ The treacherous thought slid through her mind as she tried to burrow her muzzle beneath her blanket. _It is not for the many, you stay because of him.

_ _

That thought alone, spoken only in her mind, with the darkness howling outside made her frown and try to slide thought of Marcius away from her. The young bronze drake was so innocent, so passionate, his mind filled with desire to serve the Legion that he put no thought on the line about how they served him. They did not care about him, not as she did, and still he rose each day to do battle and at the end came back with more darkness to his eyes. His scales had once been neat and soft, a young drake in his prime with every scale fitting exactly as it should, but time, deprivation, injury had started to turn them ragged and dark. He would not admit to anyone that he was faltering, that he knew what they faced and that they could not beat it. He didn't truly admit it to her except in rough jests that hit all too closely to the truth.

And all she wanted to do was take him out of here, to force him to shed the shield and pike, to remove his armor and leave this place of cold and death. In all her life in the camp, she had never wished to speak to any of the soldiers except politely, but on the first day he had called her 'my lady' and given her a warm smile, almost bowing. Not mocking, but in appreciation. He had treated her kindly and well, never looking at her secretly or hinting at how she could serve him. It was that gentleness that drew her to him, a confusing way that went against everything she had learned from a hatchling on how to remain out of the eyes of soldiers who would want to possess her. He was gentle and too soft for this place of hardness, and she wanted to pull him from it. He wouldn't leave, his duty kept him here, and as long as he remained facing the darkness, she would remain as well. If only to know that he was not alone. If only to know that he was cared for.

~ ~ * ~ ~

"STAND AT ATTENTION!" The gryphon roared the words, forcing Marcius to straighten up with his head held high.

The snow was falling around them, thick and fat, melting and covering his armor, trailing down along the line of his neck and trickling towards his chest beneath his woolen covering. It was so terribly cold, he felt like he would never be warm again, but still they held in line while he gripped his pike and was crammed in with so many other young men. The trenches in front of them had been carved out over the course of the past two weeks, laboriously hammered with pikes and axes until the ditches would reach over their heads if they were in them, as it was, the dirt was mounded up around the camp to form a barrier with the trenches on the other side. A flimsy barrier, but it was all they had at the moment, their only hope.

The horses were thin, too thin, he could see the way their bones jutted out along their haunches and their ribs were protruding over their hide as the officers patrolled the lines. His mouth began to water at the thought of them. Why keep the beasts alive? They were dying slowly, better to kill them now and they would all eat better for it. Even if there wasn't a great deal of meat left, the bones could be made into soup that would be better than the dried beef and watery mixture they were getting now. He nearly forgot to keep his spike straight as two officers rode by, but they were too exhausted to really care. They were dark eyed and rough looking as the General surveyed them. The weathered gryphon was patchy, his feathers were bent and broken, lost in places where stress had made them drop. He was not the proud commander that they had first marched under.

"YOU HEAR THEM?!" General Lucius roared out, standing up the stirrups with his wings partially spread, almost mimicking the eagle that was behind him on it's pole. "They cry to us at night! They taunt us because we have not found a way to attack them! Each night they try to creep into our camp and do not doubt that they will find us. Each night they will kill more of us, until we are weak and near death and then they will kill us all."

_Not a rousing speech. _ Marcius kept his attention fixed, even as he wanted to sneer at the old general. What did he expect them to do?

"In ten days we will begin our domination of Gaul! Each day I will personally escort out one hundred men, each of my captains will join me with their own band and we will begin to drive them to us. We will set up pikes and soldiers to ambush them!" He glared down at them, the amber eyes flashing with a hint of madness and desperation. "We are the pride of Rome! Do you hear them howling at night?! They believe they are fearsome wolves, but our founders were suckled at the great bitch herself! Lupa will not allow Romans to die by their fangs! PRAY! PRAY TO LUPA! She will lead us as a pack to destroy them, crush them, take their names and erase them as if they never existed!"

"HA! HA! HA!" The chant began, a loud shout echoed as it started with the captains, and was forced through the voices of his comrades.

Marcius flinched, but opened his jaws to reply, but not with hope, not with knowledge that they would be going to victory. No, this wasn't a battle plan that would give them Gaul, it was something else and he could see it in the old gryphons eyes, in the commanders that rode the lines with their bodies tense and expressions grim. They were all going to die, it was only a matter of when and how. They could die slowly from starvation and sneaking attacks, or they could die in battle the way that every soldier knew his life may one day lead too. They were being sacrificed. They were being given the option of meeting with a glorious death instead of a slow one, just as he had been thinking about the horses. His talons tug into his spear as he shouted back with his group, louder and fiercer, his voice rising up with many.

He felt light headed and moved his pike forward to crash against his shield, hitting it, forming a great percussive sound that boomed through the forest. They would all die, but in that moment he just felt a rush of manic energy. If he would die, he would die as a soldier, not a coward, not a traitor. His name would be written on the walls of Rome itself, his family given gold and honor for birthing a son that died within this savage country. They would want for nothing, all he had to do was die. All he had to do was not run. That was why they yelled into the cold air in one great voice, they would all die, but they would do so with honor.

"LUPA! LUPA! LUPA!" The chant for the old wolven goddess rose up, for the dragons of Rome had suckled greatness from her teats. And courage.

~ ~ * ~ ~

In the days following the announcement Marcius played a role of frantic preparation as the trenches were lined with spikes, the guards began to use firewood recklessly as they formed great pyres at all points of the camp. The general consensus was that they had no need to save the fuel and they would be able to spot the enemy from a greater distance. Tents that had been left erected and falling as their inhabitants had died were torn down and spikes made from the poles. They moved with purpose as they had not since they had been hunted, and he moved with them, the energy that flowed through him had no source. He ate little, he cared little for eating, but still he worked from dawn until dusk, preparing for the final confrontation. He would be with the General, led out to herd the savages into a trap where they would kill as many as they could. There was little hope they would survive, but they would make a hole for the Imperial Legion to punch through once relief was sent.

Through it all, he was only forced to eat by the grace of Aurelia, who came each dawn and each evening with food to press upon him. Their wishes had come true, the horses had been killed, but he had little appetite for the food she brought, rich through the soup was. There was no need to eat, there was only need to complete the Generals vision that would make the camp into a single large trap where they could drive the Gauls in and trap them behind fire and pikes both. But still, the gold dragoness came with her offerings, often watching to ensure that he at least took a few spoonfuls of the soup before he left again. That was the only softness left in his life, and it was a good softness. It was something that reminded him of the mother, the sisters, that he had left behind.

One evening, six days before the impending last attack, he stepped into his tent wearily and barely had the energy to peel off his tunic. Winter rains had come and he was frozen nearly all the way through, but they had finally covered enough of the tinder that it would be safe for the final press. His muscles ached, but it was no more that every soldier had had asked of him. As he peeled off the wet clothing, he became aware of the fire burning low near his bed, the flap at the top opened to allow the smoke to filter through. The large area that had once held his tent mate, a unicorn long since dead, was devoted to a large fire and a round pot that was seated on a tripod. He frowned and focused on the form kneeling beside it. Aurelia.

"Eat." She spoke before he could, gesturing with one paw towards his bed and what rested there. Meat, his nose told him, actual meat. "I have saved you some of the best."

"The liver?" He blinked back at her and tried to make his mind work, but she only smiled as she stood up. The firelight was so low that he only saw a hint of gold as she shrugged down the hood of her clock.

"You need to eat, Marcius, please. You are growing too thin, and you must be strong." She picked the plate up and turned her head towards him, her eyes, so pleading that he stopped the denial that was about to trip from his tongue.

"You could be in trouble for taking part of a liver." He rebuked softly, but the scent made his mouth water. Onions and peppers, well cooked with the liver neatly cut into small portions.

"No, I wouldn't." She smiled slightly and gave her head a shake. "They no longer watch us, they are mad with their planning. And soon..." Her smile faltered. "Soon they will send us away."

"Good. You should have left long ago, it isn't safe here." He reached down to stab a bit of liver, almost shaking before he delivered the bite onto his tongue.

Gods, it all but melted on his senses, the faint coppery taste of blood let him know that it hadn't been well done and the spices perfect. It made his eyes flutter shut as he worked his jaws and savored the taste of it, not dry or watered down, but absolutely perfect. His tongue rolled lightly before he took the next mouthful, gathering some of the broth to swallow down and he felt nearly light headed. It had been too long since he had eaten something that actually had any taste appeal to it, he had almost forgotten that it did more than fill the stomach, it soothed him. Eating wasn't just an act to survive, it could be something that could bring comfort, sharp reminders of meals past that had been served by his family. His tense muscles relaxed for the first time in days and he simply gave into the act of eating, forgetting entirely that he had company.

Somewhere far away his family lived still, they would get gold in exchange for his life and full citizenship before the Senate. They would have a chance to experience so much out of life, their lands could be increased and they would be honored. He had known that the moment he had given his life to the army, but now he was able to feel some peace with it. The spices on his tongue, the warmth of the broth, he could almost imagine the low crackle of the fire in his home and the warmth of their voices. His father repairing an old harness or halter, his sister's teasing each other, his mother's soft soothing voice as she carved something for the family altar. Would they still be there? Would they still be just as he had left them? Or had they changed in the last two years, his sisters married, perhaps even expecting children?

"That is much better." Aurelia murmured softly as he put the plate down and blinked his eyes open. She kneeled beside him, a strange smile on her face as she watched him. "Come here, disrobe. The water is warm and you still have frozen mud on your scales."

Marcius looked down at his legs, the splatters of mud along his ankles and the claws that were caked in it. Perhaps it was that memory of home, but he flinched in shame as he looked at his hands as well, filthy. His mother would be ashamed of him, his armor coated in the muck, his clothing rough and stiff from being unable, or not caring, to wash it. She had always kept a clean house, taking pride that her family showed well despite tending the farm and breeding animals. The servant girl gave her a slight smile towards him, reaching out to touch his knee lightly before she stood up and moved towards the hanging pot and tipped it over to spill the water into a flat narrow pan. Tendrils of steam lifted up and brought with it the scent of crushed herbs.

"You don't have to.." He stumbled over the words as she poured cool water into the hot, dipping a clean cloth into the mixture. "I can bathe myself."

"We leave tomorrow. We are being sent away." Aurelia didn't look at him as she spoke, her fingers swirling the water about with the cloth. "They wish to try and save us."

"You will leave, then." He stressed the word will, hesitantly moving up to unclip his breast plate. She looked so vulnerable in his tent, the soft gold of her scales would be easily be pierced by claws or arrows or blade.

"I would stay if I could." She spoke softly, her head turned down while she worked most of the water out of the cloth. He flushed and moved his hands awkward to his tunic, she didn't turn away from him as decency should have.

"I wouldn't wish you to stay here." He murmured softly, the words sounding clumsy as he hesitantly pulled off the mud caked clothing. "I want you to live, Aurelia, you deserve to live. You should have never have stayed so long."

The gold dragoness stood up, her eyes fixed on him and he forced his eyes away from her. She was beautiful, her scales soft looking, as if they would be silky beneath his fingers and that thought made him drop his hands down to his lap. His fingers had grown rough, they had always been firm from hard work, but the cold had dried his scales out and he had grown calluses in new places from bearing his weapons.

"I am glad I stayed this long." Her voice was almost a whisper before her hands moved to run the warmed damp cloth along his chest, making him stiffen slightly as she moved her hand to push along his back. "Lean forward, let me get the mud off of you."

Marcius wanted to protest her tending him, but he only trembled as the warm cloth ran over the broader scales of his chest and he let out a breath and fought not to scare her away. He leaned forward as she pushed him while she began to work against the worst bit of dirt and grime that had managed to get between his scales. When was the last time he had taken pains with his appearance? It hadn't seemed to matter so terribly much in the last few weeks, living had mattered. He was embarrassed as he watched the cloth grow rather smudged, but the dragoness only leaned down to rinse it before she returned to working against his scales, running over them with a touch that was almost sensual. He closed his eyes, he didn't care if she was only being kind to him because she would leave soon, it felt so good to have her hands working the cloth against his scaling, cleaning away the dirt.

It wasn't sexual, at least, not exactly, it was the contact with her that relaxed him and made him submit to something he never would have tolerated before. The idea of someone attending him like this was a bit embarrassing, but the way she did just made him feel comforted. The dirt along his shoulders, the dried mud were washed away in the bowl of water. There wasn't enough to soak him, but she made do, emptying the bowl once it was murky and refilling it with more water when she was done. It was a task she did without speaking, just a gesture to make him shyly lift an arm, feeling clumsy and awkward as she washed his hands. She pulled one into her lap and carefully worked beneath the talons, running from the base all the way to the tip, clearing bark and bits of debris out from under them. She was thorough, working between the fingers, running along the palm of his hand before he was allowed to drop it and give the other one to her.

The warm scent of herbs filled the air, but not ones that he would have associated with cooking. The sweetness of lavender was there, but also something that was a bit sharper and less defined. He found himself enjoying it, muscles relaxed and his eyes lidded as he felt the fingers working between his digits, rubbing while warm water trickled over his hardened scales. They were so patchy and rough he should have been ashamed, but under her ministrations he forgot why he should be embarrassed. He only stirred when she moved behind him on his bunk, the bowl carefully placed away from where she might knock it over as she worked along the line of his back. Her fingers spread open, helping the water to coat him and stopping it with the cloth before it could touch the bed.

"Stand up." She almost whispered in his ear and Marcius blinked his eyes open and turned his head back towards her. Aurelia smiled and gestured to him. "Please?"

How could he say no? At that moment he felt almost at peace as he stood up and she stood with him, her hands gentle as she worked the cloth along the edge of his pants. It was a natural touch and he resumed his closed eyed state, breathing in the scent of herbs as she continued. It was a relaxed enough state that he only stirred when he felt his pants being pushed down, the last of his armor clattering to the ground at his feet. He blinked a few times and flushed, moving away instinctively so he could find some covering, but her soft hand touched his shoulder, curling lightly so that he was stopped and she moved to hold his tail in those long elegant fingers and warm water suddenly tumbled down the length.

It was a shock, but he remained still as she worked down the length of his tail, running slowly from the base all the way towards the narrow tip. The cloth worked around the ridge of short blunt spines, cleaning between them and even lingering on the few that had managed to be broken in battle. He wanted to say something, the words were rising into his throat, but they never went further than that. He couldn't speak, what could he say? When his tail was dripping wet, cleaned and rubbed so that not even the smallest bit of dirt could remain hiding she allowed him to drop it and moved around him. The thick cloak was shifted about, catching him on the calf as she refilled the bowl of water with warm, nearly hot water and moved back to him again. He flushed hotly, the heat rising higher as she didn't go behind him, but in front before dropping to one knee in front of him. His reaction was hard to hide as he looked down at her, on her knees, beautiful.

The bare tip of his red shaft pushed along his vent, he tried to stop himself, but the opening still bulged and showed the line of crimson, but Aurelia ignored the slight display. She reached down to pick up his heavy clawed foot and carefully peeled off the heavy leather that cushioned the base. He wanted to pull back, the dirt and mud had caked there, but she refused to allow him. Her hold was stronger than it seemed and soon he was forced to relent and allow her to drop his foot into the bowl of warm water, the talons still pricked over the edge as she began to clean him. She was firmer hear, kneading and massaging against the bottom of his foot paw, working to clean the small hidden spaces. He watched her as she worked, the edge of the cloak was pushed back along her shoulders to show the ridges that ran along the back of her neck, the paleness that rimmed her throat in white gold.

His second foot paw followed the first, leaving them clean and glittering with the bronze color that had been so muted by his work. It was strange that he had allowed himself to grow dirty while working, there had been so much pride when he first joined. He had always cleaned his armor, everything had been stored away precisely, while others had allowed it to show scarring and damage. He had changed. The thought displeased him more than it should have, he didn't want to die here in mud and filth, he didn't want it to end this way. The fear of death was muted by despair as he flicked his eyes away from the dragoness while she cleaned him. It was as if she were washing his body for his funeral. The thought made a thick lump form in his throat and he closed his eyes.

"Marcius." Aurelia spoke softly as the damp cloth dropped back into the bowl, leaving him gleaming in the tent, warmed only by the banked fire.

"You should leave." Marcius tried to sound gentle, but the words were harsh as she stood. He didn't want anyone to see the fear he felt. It was his and his alone.

When she stood, he braced himself to have her leave, to retire back to his cot, clean for once, but to face another day of labor and dread. She didn't leave, her hands reached up and cupped the triangle of his muzzle and pulled his head downwards so that his eyes snapped open. She stood nearly touching him, her long fingers brushing along the roughness of his scales while her muzzle was angled up towards his own. He could feel the warmth of her body against him, not touching, but almost.

"I'm not leaving." She murmured softly, running her fingers towards the corner of his lips before gliding back towards his horns. "You walk around like you are a corpse already, no joy, no warmth, no memory of anything good left in your life."

"It's already written, is it not? Why remember what I'm about to lose?" She moved, oh gods she moved, the warmth of her body brushed against him so she felt the line of scales caressing right against his own where the cloak parted.

"Nothing is written." Her lips moved closer to his own, her breath tickling along his scales. "Life is warmth, and if you are to die, you should die with a memory of that warmth, not with cold fear."

Marcius wanted to pull back, but he couldn't, her lips pressed against his own and he felt her tongue flick out as she kissed him. Her hands moved to his sides and when she leaned forward he felt intimately that the cloak was the only covering she had brought with her. The soft swell of her breasts pressed against him, the heat of her body ran along his body and made him tremble as he parted his muzzle to flick out his tongue against hers. He stroked lightly, tasting her on his tongue, sweet and inviting while her hands moved to slip around his waist. He had wanted to do this for so long, the taste of her on his tongue, the warmth, the brush of her softer scales on his own as she came in so intimately close to him. He knew he should have stopped it, there was nothing here for her, he could give her nothing, but in that moment he just wanted her touch, her warmth, the feel of her wonderfully alive body calling to his own.

He moved his hands up to slide around her, slipping beneath the cloak so that his rough fingers could feel for himself just how soft her scales were. They were like satin beneath his fingers, too soft for his rough calloused fingers, but he drew her in close and savored her. His tongue twined around her own, pulling lightly in a gentle caress that drew the kiss out. He ran his fingers along her back, trailing up towards the curve of her spine so that she arched beneath his touch. The moment she did he could feel the warmth of her lower belly brushing against him. She lacked the hard edges of a drake, her scales were rounded instead of sharp pointed, smaller than the tip of his talon and he felt them rippling as he rubbed his hands down the line of her spine and let out a low noise in his throat. He wanted her, he had wanted her since he had taken up his pike and shield, he had wanted to taste her, feel her, love her. All of the reasons he had for drawing away from her washed away in her kiss.

Slowly, she pulled back, her breathing swift and rapid as the heat ran along the bridge of his muzzle and towards his cheeks. He could feel his own natural reaction to her body, the dark red tip of his shaft jutted out against her belly, the inches spreading him open wider and there was no trying to hide it. She deliberately rolled her hips against him, caressing the rippling muscles along his cock tip so that he stifled a low groan, nearly melting. He had never done this, he had seen it done while on campaign, he had certainly touched himself, but never had a female pressed against him so nude, so desirable. Everything that he wanted and more, carefully contained in this small gold form. He reached up, and with one shaking hand pulled the ties of her cloak, loosening the long strings so that the cloak began to slip free of her slender shoulders.

"Aurelia..." He spoke her name softly, almost afraid saying it would break the moment, but she only smiled up at him and slid the cloak from her shoulders, letting it drop down to the ground, showing him what he already knew.

Whatever he had wanted to say was lost as his eyes were drawn down to her body, the curves of it no longer hidden by her clothing and the sweep of her hips. Her breasts were perked up on her chest, the nipples tinged the palest gold possible and taut nubs that made him linger there while his hands moved to slide along her hips. The curve of her hips swept down her thighs, and that was what drew his eyes, despite his effort not to drink in every last part of her body. The soft snug folds were palest pink, rimmed in fine gold scales, the scent of her intoxicating as she reached up and guided his head downwards. He hadn't been able to move, he had just stared at her, drinking in the sight, wanting to remember every detail until his muzzle was guided towards her breasts and he let out a low groan. He rubbed along the soft mounds, his breath puffing out rapidly as he ran along the tips, caressing right where her nipples hardened in reaction.

Her hands moved along his body, teasing along his lower belly in a gentle touch, but his attention was focused on her breasts. He flicked his tongue out and coiled it right around one tender nub, wrapping around the edges and dragging gently so that she let out a short noise that made him shiver. He worked his tongue slowly, coiling around the length of the nipple and gives a gentle pull all the way towards the tip. His hands moved to knead and squeeze against her hips and drew her in closer as he parted his lips and ran his teeth along the tender nub, feeling her squirm in place and draw in a swifter breath. That sound! It was a delicious sound that made him work for it again. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, drawing it in with a swift powerful suckle, rolling his tongue around the underside, teasing this way and that, running his fingers down towards the small of her back. And then her hand moved along the line of his belly and the elegant fingers curled right around the tip of his cock.

Marcius let out a short groaning cry and squeezed his eyes shut as the fingers began to work around the glans, teasing in slow smooth movements that made him push out further and further. His vent stretched open wide as the tip oozed out a dribble of precum against her finger tips as she squeezed around him gently, pushing downwards towards the very base. She teased over the ridges that ran along the underside, running around them lightly while he fought the urge to squirm in place. He ran his muzzle along her breast, trying to stifle a groan before nuzzling over towards her untended nipple, flicking out with a hot flutter of his tongue tip that ran right along the tip so that she let out a soft shivery sigh of pleasure. Her fingers worked all the way down to the base and pulled back up towards the tip of his cock, making him jerk forward in a short grinding thrust against the palm of her hand.

The fingers running around him, outlining each and every ridge made him squirm, his breathing came out in short trembling pants as he tried to keep himself under control, but he was barely able to do manage it. It wasn't like when he touched himself, a simple fantasy and pumping his hand, she lingered over every detail of him, her thumb brushed right up and along his glans to run back and forth until he let out a throaty cry and just pressed his head against her breasts. He rolled up into her touch, trembling slightly as he did so and felt her fingers squeezing down a bit more firmly in reaction. He wouldn't last, not like this, he was already squirming from just the finger tips teasing back down towards his base. He didn't want to have it happen like this. Panic helped get him under control, he didn't just want to spill himself all over her fingers, he wanted her. He needed her. He let out a groaning sound and reached down to grip her hips, the need throbbing through him as she let out a soft noise of surprise.

"I want you... Please.." He panted out, lifting his head as she moved her hand away from his cock, placing it against his hip.

"Yes..." She breathed that one blessed word out and he pushed her back, trying to be gentle, he truly wanted to be gentle, but he'd never felt like this.

Her warm soft body dropped down into his bunk, so narrow, but room enough for him as her legs curled sensuously right along the line of his hips. She was so soft beneath him, his hands clumsy and unsure as he reached to hold her sides, feeling the way that her tail twined around his own. Her head was cast back, eyes bright with anticipation, not frustration, not disappointment. With a low wordless groan he leaned down to capture her lips with his own, his tongue twining with hers as he kissed her as if he could drink her sweetness down. He rolled his hips, grinding his cock along the line of her belly, feeling her arch upwards while he rocked back and forth, teasing himself against her. He savored the squirm and arch of her body, the way she wrapped her arms and curled her fingers just behind his neck. He pushed his lips a bit more firmly against her as he drew backwards, blindly trying to trail his cock tip down towards her vulnerable folds.

Heat rose to his face as he jabbed blindly, trying to push himself towards the mark, but over eagerness and inexperience worked against him. He groaned out, his throat coming out with a low growl before Aurelia moved one of her hands down and her finger tips caught him. He nearly drove into her touch blindly, but the gentle caress drew him downwards and coaxed him right against the silken slick lips of her vent. It was blind instinct that led him, with a muffled groan he rocked forward and spread her open, feeling the silken walls spreading wide around him, stretching and clinging as he pushed himself steadily inwards one thick ridge at a time. Glorious heat, the walls clung around him and rippled, pulling and squeezing from the base all the way towards his tip. He nearly lost control in that one moment, the pleasure so keen it was nearly painful, but he managed to control himself, barely.

When he drew backwards her walls tensed up, trying to hold him as his ridges pulled out one by one, stimulating and sliding through her so she cried out against his lips. With a groan he released her from their kiss, his jaws spread with a ragged groan as he drove back into her, driving in until his loins hit her own with a slap of flesh on flesh. She clung to him, holding him close against her as he ground his hips back and forth lightly, feeling the way the small, nearly imperceptible, muscles quivered and shifted around him, adjusting to him. His precum oozed out, spilling into her, but her own juices were clinging to him as he drew backwards with a slow smooth stroke. His world narrowed down to the heat and scent of her, the way she arched up against him each time he drove forward to hilt within her body. The softness of her gold scales caressed him, satin and silk, running along his body in an almost feverish caress. Her cries rang in his ears as he reached down and burrowed his muzzle along the curve of her shoulder, trying to drink down her scent.

Every thrust was a new experience, some new tension or rippling that made him tense and relax before drawing back again. His hands ran along her, wanting to feel everything, every part, the warmth of her mounded breasts against his rough calloused paws, the way her stomach curved in a sweep towards her loins. With each thrust she grew slicker around him, the wetness coating around his base as he squeezed his eyes shut, starting to pant in short shallow bursts. This, yes this, everything he wanted was here in this moment as she cried out against his shoulder, her teeth lightly gripping him to muffle the sound while he began to shorten his thrusts in powerful driving movements. Every one rocked through her body, forcing his way in deeper before dragging back again.

The quivering of her walls, the suckling grip that wrapped around him made his cock begin to thicken, the ridges becoming more defined as he arched above her. She bucked beneath him, her body bowing up to meet him as he lifted his head and cried out. He couldn't stifle it, that age old cry as his entire body seized up and his internal orbs began to work and contract. With a final thrust he pushed down against her, his tail clutching around her as the first thick rush of his seed erupted out of his cock and spilled into her. Rope after heavy rope flooded her while he trembled and panted above her, the edges of his vision darkening with the pure pleasure of her exquisite muscles milking around him, the suckling pull that coaxed more and more of his seed into her body, as if she would take everything he had to offer and drain him dry.

And in that moment he didn't care. Warmth, life, heat, love, passion, lust, they were all crashing over him as he dropped against her shaking and panting shallowly. He draped his head against her own, pressing cheek to cheek so that he could hear her panting breath while the last thick drool of his seed pushed into her. He'd never felt his way in his life, and he let out a trilling noise low in his throat, a rough purr while he tried to find any strength at all to lift his head back up. Every reason he had for not seeking her out, for not trying to seek her out, fell away into the darkness. There was no excuse, not fear of loss or embarrassment that should have kept him from her. But he had her now... For as long as he lived he would hold onto her. However long that might be.

"I love you." He breathed out into her ear and felt her hands sliding up along his back, squeezing him closer to him. Arms that felt as if they should be able to hold him back from death, from fate, from anything except her love.

~ ~ * ~ ~

The crackling sound of flames, the soft hush of snow that fell thick and soft outside of the tent, the pounding of two hearts. Aurelia savored each one as she rested beside Marcius, feeling the warmth of him pressed beside her, feeling his arms wrapped round her as she rested her head along his chest. His breathing was still fast, but he would recover soon, something that she understood about him now. Her passionate bronze drake, her eager and tender lover, she knew that he would recover and would rouse her body once again with a passion that seemed to have no end where she was concerned. She could feel the thick trickle of his seed along the curve of her loins, the warm thick scent of him filled her nose as she held to him, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold that moment as something she could hold in a bottle, something trapped forever. If morning never came, they would never know a parting of ways, they would be here forever.

Four days. Only four days did she have him to love, to hold, to make love to and spend long hours with one another. Every day when the sun went low she would wait in his tent, no matter what chores were waiting, it wasn't as if the camp aids were doing much now that the end was so near. When he returned they came together, she warmed his snow chilled body with her own and so they spent their evening until neither one of them could stay awake any longer. She slept beside him, she had never fallen asleep beside anyone like this before, entwined and nude, but she slept beside him. She woke to the feel of his warmth and knew the sound of his rumbling before he awoke. Four days, the gods mocked them with such a number a pitiful handful of hours that were barely enough to cling to and nothing more. Their time running out.

"I leave tomorrow." She murmured softly against his chest as he shifted, pulling her so that she was sprawling over the warmth of his body. "You-"

"I cannot." Marcius closed his eyes, almost as if he couldn't look her in the eye as he refused. "My family's death would be on me, their slavery, I cannot leave."

"You yourself say no one will survive, others have already fled, you can be free." She reached up and touched his muzzle, feeling the familiar edge of his scales. "We can be free."

"Their names are written down in a scroll, their fates sealed." He opened his eyes slowly, the dark gold of them pained. "They will be carried with our news."

"Rome has abandoned you, what right do they have to your life?" She spoke around the urge to cry, but he only moved to touch the back of her neck lightly, moving his muzzle so it touched her own.

"Rome... Rome isn't what I give my life for. I give it for my family, that they might live and flourish, I give it for the hope that we might win." He gave a slow smile, an open, wondrous expression. "There are still impossible things in this world, Aurelia, you.. you are my impossible thing." He leaned forward to give her a gentle kiss. "If the gods can give me your love, then perhaps they will give us victory."

"Marcius.." She squeezed her eyes shut, she wanted to hit him, to scream and yell, to make him come with her by any means necessary.

"I love you. I love you more than I thought possible, but I have to fight." He whispered the words against her cheek. "No matter that I risk losing something so precious to me as you, I fight, honor demands it, my family, my sisters, everything I care for says I must go forward, not back."

Aurelia closed her eyes and clung to him, the living warmth of him and closed her muzzle. If this would be their last night together, she would take it. She would hold it and him forever. Four nights for a lifetime.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Marcius stood in line, his head held up as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his comrades, forming a line four men deep. His pike held low and his shield up as the snow chilled his ankles. It was cold, but not so cold that he was bothered or frozen by it, he savored it. The chill against his scales, the wind that swept beneath his helmet. The scent of the air was wood smoke from their camp as the General moved along the line with his ragged feathers bobbing. They were dressed in their best, dressed as if they would be presented to the Emperor himself, awarded their badges of honor and given the highest commendation in the land. Every one of them had dressed this morning meticulously, polishing their armor, hammering out dents. He had joined them, hammering out every imperfection and bringing it to a shine, but his eyes had been on the line of servants that began the trek south. His eyes had been on her.

This morning he had watched her pack, not beside her, they had said their goodbyes in his tent. They had clung to one another as he wanted to take that touch with him, but they had not parted in public. He had simply watched her as he worked, savoring the way that she moved, the way that her eyes unerringly went to him, the bitterness of the tears that marred the perfection of the scales on her face. He would have slaughtered every enemy in this gods forsaken place to take away those tears, if only he had the strength. Most of her things had been packed, but she hadn't gone, she had waited as she pretended to readjust her things in the light cart that she would pull. She had waited to see if he would join her, if he would desert this place and start a life with her.

Would that I had... He lifted his head higher, blowing out a rush of breath in the chill air. Beside him others shifted nervously as they began to slowly march away from the camp.

Every one of them knew that they might die, nearly twenty men had deserted already, but they remained. For stupidity or honor, for courage or lack of it, they stayed and he felt the warmth of his brothers in arms beside him. Heard the sound of their armor hitting against them as they advanced past their makeshift barrier. The General had no horse, he marched in line with them, the grizzled old bird would likely be the first to fall, but he took his ranks in the first line, showing, without words, he was willing to die with them, for them. Marcius didn't take strength in that, he took strength in the memory of her. The scent of her still clung to him, he could smell her, he hadn't bathed, he wanted to have her near, always.

When he had gone back to his armor he had found something waiting on his bed, left on the pillow they had shared for a precious few nights. A single golden scale, whole and complete, carefully linked to two rings that could be attached to his armor. He imagined that he could feel her scale against his chest now, he could remember how all of her scales felt against him. Aurelia, his golden dragoness, who had loved him wholly and completely, no matter that she knew his life was winding to an end. He had loved her, and had he not loved honor more, he would have kept her, held her, sacrificed everything to be with her. He loved her still, and she was safe where she was. She was on the road back to Rome, but not empty handed, she carried with her every bit of silver and gold he had earned on the campaign. It was tucked away in her possessions, where she would find it. Enough wealth that she might leave these hard roads, that she might find a way to start new somewhere else if she wished it. It was all he could do.

They marched forward into the woods when the howling began, the ragged sounds of the wolves that lurked beneath the trees and the snarls of the wildcats. He lowered his pike grimly at the barked commands and fixed his eyes in the darkness. They should have never come to this place, it belonged to the creatures of the forest, the wildlings that cried and screamed for blood. The forest rose up around them, massive pine trees with thick heavy boughs that brushed the ground and created reaching shadows that made even the snow seem dark. Dead brush and trees peeped through around the edges, twisted and strange looking. It was within those depths that the barbarians waited for them. They watched them, hidden as always, while the Legion advanced at the commands of their Generals and Marcius hunched his shoulders and stiffened them.

"FOR ROME!! ADVANCE!!!" The General screeched out and Marcius lowered his pike down to aim at the darkness and unseen enemies.

"For Aurelia..." He breathed to himself, before he gave voice to a great roaring cry and threw himself into the forest. His thoughts weren't of fear and terror, but only of her. His golden dragoness. Four nights gifted to him by the gods themselves.

_ _