Orton found himself alone on one of the many terraces of the fine house in which was converted into an infirmary as an orange haze lightened the night sky with the black acrid smoke obscuring the stars all the more while the city continued to burn around them. He was beyond exhausted, yet knew he would not find sleep, though both Roman and Ambrose implored him to rest hours ago. Then again not long ago, but Orton's mind would not settle enough to allow him to drift.

Orton had felt he finally found some semblance of peace before they were called to march on Rome. It had been an infuriating couple of months to say the least with both Ambrose and Roman denying their blessing and fighting it at every turn. Orton had thanked the gods as he watched their walls crumble, though it did leave him feeling very much alone.

He was happy for them; he truly was. Ambrose had saved his life and he wanted nothing more for him than happiness. He was beyond grateful that he found that in Roman. Orton was also beyond grateful he had found a true brother in Roman as well, something that went beyond fondness, though plutonic, along with the rest of their family. Plutonic was all he would allow himself having made a promise never travel down the other road again.

Roman had mentioned leaving, seeking true freedom he had named it; all of them together. Orton had been skeptical and told Roman so. Not of the concept per say, but that even Roman possessed the ability to sway Ambrose to abandon his vengeance. Then the impossible occurred. The moment he saw Ambrose make his decision, as he clung to Roman weeping, his own eyes burned, grateful the gods, who had forsaken him his whole life had finally answered one of his prayers.

Battle and bloodshed bothered Orton little. He had seen much of it in the years since Ambrose saw him freed from the brothel, but the love his two brothers shared was something he had yet to see or even fathom. The love Roman held for Orton himself was something he yet thought he would only ever be blessed with from Ambrose. The other's as well, all of his brothers, his blessings wholly unlooked for, yet no less cherished.

Orton had been certain they would be on their way to true freedom as of now, especially with the way he felt Ambrose slightly quake when he wrapped him in his arms as he bid him good night the eve before they were all catapulted back into their own personal hells. It was heartbreaking to see Roman as he was the next day, and Orton was confused and hurt, but had no idea as to what to do or say, which was a rarity. He had always possessed skill in comforting others, though his own demons often plagued him.

The moment Roman mentioned his companion Orton felt his heart sink and his stomach turn. Not only for the realization they would not be leaving, but for the memories of his own companion who had been the reason he had met Ambrose in the first place, and the possibility Roman's companion had been to Roman, what Orton's had been to him. He was determined to protect his quirky new family from the disease that was Rome and everything in it.

Orton hadn't been all that much younger than Ambrose, when he was taken, or rather given as it were, to settle his father's debt. Orton had gone willingly, though it was not like he actually possessed a choice, still he felt it was better he rather than one of his siblings.

In the beginning it had not been all that horrible. Orton had attended lessons with his companion, given an education he would never have been afforded as the son of a poor carpenter, and while he had farther duties, he had become very fond of his companion. Orton had seen his companion as one would a friend or a confidant, then eventually much more.

Orton was little more than what one would call a man, and though he had not seen it coming he very much should have. When his companion's brother had come to collect their debt Orton remembered his stomach being in his throat as he chose "the handsome one". The first instance his companion's brother had come to him, whom he had rarely seen since they had collected him, he had begun to refuse, but was quickly reminded of the way of their world.

It had gone on like that for some time, and while Orton was sure his companion had known, though he never spoke about it to anyone, when their relationship progressed Orton's companion already held heart, yet he had assumed it was just the way of their world. Eventually it had all fallen apart, though Orton was never given a choice in any matter, when he was 17 he was sold, and his heart broke; never again had been his promise.

Orton had been worried Seth might hold a similar sway over Roman. Though, their physical shackles had been broken there were always invisible shackles tethering them to their past; effecting who they became, preventing Roman's "true freedom".

Still, Orton had vowed to stand by his brother's whatever befell them, so that was what he had done, and was very much relieved when his anxieties seemed to prove false, though he had been very weary of Roman's pretty companion as soon as he set eyes on him. Seth seemed nothing like any Roman he'd ever met; with his defiant slaves, and his willingness to protect them. It all sat unwell with Orton, but nothing like when he felt his gentle touch.

Orton's skin had burned, but the same time he broke out in chills. It has caused him to jerk away in embarrassment, not only for his marks that ever reminded him of what he had been and still ached every so often with no cause, but for his own inexplicable urge to lean into it. Seth's words for his own scars had sent a pang like he had never felt through his chest, but you could not trust a Roman, even one that claimed love.

The sincerity in Seth's eyes when he claimed he held love for Ambrose solely due to Roman's love had puzzled him. He knew the other man meant it, yet still, it made no sense to him. Orton had decided he was better off keeping away from Seth, because he swore to himself he would never repeat his past mistakes. Yet, Orton felt the lines blurring more and more as the others sought to force them together.

Not only had the beautiful Nobleman shown skill in healing that impressed even Ambrose, but he showed genuine concern for others, including Orton, though the last had gotten on his nerves. The man had opened his home to all and what Orton knew were his slaves were never treated as such, it was all almost too much, and accompanied with what his mere presence did to Orton's pulse, he had to continuously remind himself of his own companion and his broken heart, which he had long tried to forget.

His resolve had begun its crumbling when Ambrose had bid them to go into the city for more supplies. They were woefully short, and too many who might have been saved had died, so while Orton knew it was necessary he still managed to glare at Ambrose as they set to task. It wasn't any one thing he could pin point with certainty that put him on edge when it came to the pretty Nobleman, yet Orton had been continuously seeking signs Seth was false. Not finding any made it all the more unsettling.

As they walked through the ruined city which had been the heart of the ancient world Orton's own heart broke many times over. They helped with what they could though it wasn't much, and directed many to Seth's home or the Basilica they had learned had become a safe haven as well, still every time they made progress in finding what they required there proved someone in immediate need.

Orton's heart was heavy and his wound ached, but even more so when he saw it all weighed on the man he'd sworn to avoid just as much of not more, his resolve crumbled to next to nothing. As they walked over the sticky blood caked cobble stone with Seth's beautiful brown eyes glistening Orton could not help walking close enough so that their arms brushed one anothers with every step seeking to offer some sort of comfort. It seemed a bit silly, but it also seemed to help, and he felt relieved when Seth managed a weak watery smile though it seemed to be more to reassure Orton himself.

They had next to nothing as they were on their way back when a cry sent Seth to sprinting. Orton followed as best he could, but he was weak from wound and fatigue. When he finally managed to catch up he found Seth stood once again standing defiant with sword raised before a band that sought to pillage and a crumpled heap. Orton noticed it was a woman who had seen more than her fair share of seasons which caused Orton's heart to sink, but even more so at the sight of the blood that soaked the front of Seth's tunic.

Orton though breathless and in pain dug deep for whatever strength he yet possessed and set himself between both groups with an icy glare. It was an intense stand off and when Seth moved forward to protest Orton shoved him back without hesitation. Eventually the band saw that there were easier and much more lucrative ventures and with hateful glares and a hand signal from their leader stepped off.

Orton had been beside himself with worry for Seth, but they silently agreed to tend to the woman first. She was battered and bruised, Orton was unsure she would make it much longer. Seth offered her kind words, but she seemed to feel the same as Orton concerning her fate and requested to be brought to the Basilica. Seth complied and though Orton could tell he was in physical pain as well emotional he carried the woman carefully as may be across the gods-forsaken city to the place she had chosen to die. Orton offered his help but Seth only shook his head and trudged on as though this was his burden to bear alone.

Seth carefully laid the now unconscious old woman on one of the free tables before kissing her brow and leaving her to the priest that had come to tend to her after handing him a small pouch of coins. Every last wall around Orton's heart crumbled as once they were in the streets again Seth's tears began to fall in earnest. Without even conscious thought Orton carefully wrapped the pretty Nobleman in his arms pulling him against his chest.

It was the most heartbreaking and amazing feeling all at once. The tears soaking into his tunic broke his heart as well as the other man's pain, past and present, but the way he clung to him made his heart soar. All his doubts and misgivings were quickly swept aside as he kissed Seth's head and murmured encouragement; nothing else mattered in that moment but the man in his arms.

Eventually Seth gently pulled back with embarrassment shinning in his eyes causing Orton a painful pang as he brushed away stray tears and offered a reassuring smile. He felt what he knew the others saw full force as he gazed down at the beautiful enigma that had taken up residence in his heart from first glance, and it took his breathe away. Orton had the sudden urge to shelter him, and protect him from the wicked ways of their world; it was almost overwhelming.

"We must be getting back," Seth said quietly. "Your arm needs tending again."

"As do you," Orton reluctantly loosened his hold so as to check on the wound they had so far neglected.

"It is naught but a scratch," Seth snapped suddenly stepping away as Orton reached for his tunic, though attempted to rein himself in. "I am fine, we must get back with what little we have and we shall see to your arm."

The sudden anxiety and anger in the other man's voice left him feeling as though he had been slapped after such a tender moment. Orton quickly shook it off though his own blood boiled and stepped forward reaching out again.

"Please," Seth's voice was now laced solely with anxiety as he took another step back. "Please, don't, we must get back."

Orton froze for a moment at the fear in the other man's eyes wanting nothing more to take away his hurts and show him his anxieties were unnecessary, that he was safe with him, but his own unsettling feelings and apprehension kept him from moving. He simply nodded and his chest tightened at the relieved sigh that escaped the other man.

Maybe Seth did not feel what Orton had felt, or maybe he thought him below his station, or maybe he was as scared as Orton was himself. These thoughts consumed him as they trudged back to the mansion this man called home, and Orton latched on to the negativity and channeled his hurt in to anger, because anger was easier. Anger was safer.

Orton's anger had gotten the best of him when Seth had tried to tug him through his overcrowded home and tend to his arm with sincere concern shinning in his eyes. It was stupid and he knew it but he had shouted at him and Seth shouted back, before storming away with tears once again in his eyes. Roman had bid him to sleep but Orton had walked away from him too. While this would have been enough on its own to have him reeling when Seth had sought him out to apologize to him… his heart had never felt so heavy and light all at once.

Orton accepted the apology, though rather stiffly, and offered his own, though rather weakly, before turning away from the man who had occupied most of his thoughts as of late. It had hurt so unbelievably much to go, but he didn't know what else he could do, or should do, so he walked away.

His blessings numbered many even in this moment of doubt. He was positive he had been sent a curse, a very pretty curse, but a curse none the less. Orton was beginning to sympathize with Ambrose a bit more. Seth made him feel things he had thought long lost, and while he noticed the way in which the others smiled at him now, he also knew it had to be a curse. Orton sadly resigned himself, though it was painful, to avoid his pretty curse and attempt to get some rest as he was no good to anyone dead on his feet.

As he entered the dark room he had claimed for his own due to it's distance from everything else, so as to keep his pains private, a quiet whimper made his chest constrict. Another one had his feet carrying him towards it without conscious thought. Orton had no idea how he knew, but he knew it was his pretty curse and his resolve shattered. Even in near darkness the pain etched into Seth's features as he slept shattered his heart almost as much as the trails left behind by his tears.

The overwhelming urge to protect the defiant yet somehow delicate Nobleman over rode everything else. Carefully he reached out and brushed the blonde strands of hair away from the other man's eyes as he took a knee next to him whispering gentle reassurances. Seth's hand shot up and clamped down on his startling him a bit as his eyes snapped open.

Seth's features morphed into unfathomable relief as he pressed Orton's hand into his flesh as though he would never let go before pushing his palm to his lips causing a pleasant, yet unsettling shiver to shoot up his spine. Seth gripped his hand in a way as to make him think he was testing its reality.

Relief morphed into pleading and Orton knew Seth was asking him to stay. It was as though his body reacted before his brain. As he climbed carefully onto the bed, and the other man immediately burrowed into his arms almost desperately clinging to him, though still careful of his injured arm. Orton was suddenly aware this was it for him, and no amount of warring with himself or reasoning would change that as he pressed his lips to Seth's head to offer comfort grateful his tears no longer fell.

Orton smiled, despite his palpable terror, as he tightened his arms around his pretty curse protectively, who snuggled deeper and tightened his own grip before quickly dropping off into a peaceful sleep nestled in his arms. The exhaustion he had been fighting caught up with him all at once as Orton soon followed with a warmness and peacefulness that he had never dared fathomed, yet would never give up for anything.