Rome: Marriage Pact

Chapter Eight: Keep Me Warm

I wake up shivering from fever still, annoyed. The moon's rays shine in through the window, giving subtle light to the room. Antony is in a deep sleep beside me, snoring. Even he looks exhausted.
Still wrapped in a blanket, I move closer to his body, trying to keep warm.

My heart pounds from either nervousness or fever. Perhaps both, I cannot tell. "Gaius?" Antony yawns, stirring awake. "What are you doing up, sweetling?" he asks, brown curls messy.
"I'm cold," I answer honestly. He feels my forehead and frowns. "You still have a slight fever," he mutters, more awake now.

"Could I..." I hesitate, "cuddle up with you?"
He smiles, opening his arms out without a word. It seems like he's been waiting for me to ask such a question. Flustered, I move closer, his arms over my frail form. I'm surprised when I feel his fingers go through my hair gently, massaging into my scalp.

I moan a little weakly, praying Antony couldn't hear me. His laughter in response proves me wrong. "Get back to sleep, my dove. I'm here to protect you," he assures me. I smile, my lower face buried in the layers of furs.

Tears of relief flood my eyes as I murmur a thank you. "Oh, why do you cry?" he asks sincerely.
"I'm just relieved, is all," I whisper, smiling. He visibly relaxes and wipes my tears away. "That's good," he smiles. "I love you."
I blush despite it all, feeling him stroke my back.
"I love you too," I sigh, nodding off into a dreamless sleep.
****
I stir awake feeling groggy and hungry. It's morning now, the birds chirping. Despite the warm weather, I still shiver slightly from the fever.

Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I see Antony already awake, still in bed and looking up at the ceiling.
He hasn't noticed me awake yet, possibly deep in thought.
"Marcus?" I whisper.
Antony startles, looking down and smiling when he sees me awake. "Ah, morning. Forgive me for not realizing you had woken up. I would have kissed you awake."
"But I am still sick," I sniff.
He shrugs, undeterred.

"Can I not care for my husband when he is unwell?" he asks. I blink a few times in surprise. Is this the first time he's referred to me as his husband?
"Surprised I called you that?" he grins. "You are mine, Octavius, and I will defend you until my last breath."
My mind flashes back to Antony describing his former wife Fulvia constantly getting sick.

Is Antony afraid that will happen to me as well? Is he using cockiness to hide his fear?
"Thank you," I say, not knowing how exactly to respond.
"How is your fever? If you feel a bit better, I could set up the bath for you. Steam helps clear your airways, learned that during my many sick days myself," he says, moving over and sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to respond.

Alarmed, I answer, "I do feel a bit better, but a bath sounds nice."
He smiles. "Of course, then I'll have breakfast set up for us both."
I've never actually been in Antony's bathing room, so I'm surprised by the size of it.
Like the rest of his—our—house, the tiles are bright colors, mainly blue and green. The pool in the middle is large and deep, but I can see some seats carved from stone under the still water.

I set my clean clothes down on a chair next to the stack of towels. Antony had left me alone while he went out quickly to get food for breakfast.
Even so, I keep an eye on the bathroom door as I remove my sweaty toga.
Shivering, I enter the pool and audibly sigh as I relax. Sitting on one of the seats, I think about how mother and Octavia are doing.

They haven't sent me any letters yet, oddly. Maybe Antony is withholding them? This is still his house by default. 'You are mine,' he had said sweetly, perhaps with an air of possessiveness. Or maybe he's scared of losing someone he loves again. I never met Fulvia myself, but it appears Antony cared for her.

After the bath and getting dressed, I walk over to my smaller room with the desk and star chart. I'm a little amused to see a letter on the desk addressed to me in Antony's handwriting. Curious, I unroll the scroll after cracking the wax seal.

'Gaius Octavius,
Do forgive me if I have been somewhat cold to you. You and I agreed to take this relationship slow, and I intend to keep that promise. I am not a man who takes such deals lightly, as you will come to find out.
But I will admit this, I was somewhat skeptical in marrying you, no doubt. However, in the little time I have gotten to know you, I've come to realize you are a bright young man.

I know I have said this before, but I have come to love you in a sense. I may even spoil you, if you'd let me have the chance. I'm more amused that you still wear the Apollo necklace I gave you. I should arrive home soon with breakfast. I pray to the gods that you recover from your fever soon, my dove.
I love you.
Antony.'

I find myself smiling as I roll the letter back up and place it down on the desk. Right as I do so, I hear Antony enter. "Gaius? I brought food," he calls out from the kitchen. I walk over to the kitchen to see Antony setting up the table.
"What are you smiling about? Are you feeling better?" he asks, looking relaxed.
"I am. I just read the letter you left me," I admit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear in a nervous tick.

His eyes brighten. "Did you, now? What did you think?"
"Hm, perhaps I do want you to spoil me," I joke.
Antony laughs, stops setting the table and walks over to me. "And how would you like me to spoil you?" he asks, looking amused now.
My eyes widen slightly. I thought Antony was joking in the letter, then my mind flashes back to the roasted flamingo and the necklace.

I find my fingers gently touching the necklace out of reflex. "More affection," I respond, figuring him buying me gift after gift is somewhat of a waste of money that we need to rally troops. "Whatever suits you," he muses, tilting my head up so I'm staring into his eyes as his lips brush mine, then he fully kisses me.

Despite my response, I'm clearly caught off guard, too alarmed to kiss back. He breaks the contact, somewhat concerned. "Everything okay?"
"Of course," I respond, feeling myself blush.
'You are mine,' I hear his voice repeat in my mind. That is true. By law, I am his until an unlikely divorce or one of us dies.

"I did say I would take things slow," he reminds me, kissing my cheek. "Unless you say otherwise," he smiles. I smile back, trying to quell my heart.
He laughs softly, fingers going through my curls gently.
"So pretty," he sighs, then lets go and finishes setting up breakfast.

"By the way," I suddenly remember, "isn't your birthday coming up soon?"
"It is," he realizes. "What, do you plan on getting me something?"
"Well, I don't really know what you like besides alcohol."
He snorts, taking out figs and apples from a basket.
"I'll treasure whatever you get me, dove," he muses, crunching into an apple.
"I'm certain I'll figure something out," I nod.

"Come on, let's eat. After breakfast, I want to take you somewhere special."
"Where?" I find I can't quell my curiosity.
"That, dove, is a surprise. So eat up," he sits down.
I sit as well, wondering where he'll take me.