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[personal profile] gherkins
Title: Wolgemut

Author: wede

Pairing: Viggo/Orlando, Elijah/Karl, Elijah/other, Dom/Billeh, Ian/Elijah, also mention of het and femslash.

Rating: Mature

Warning AR (history flavored with a hint of carnality and soupcon of wishful thinking)
Summary: Viggo must find a way to make Orlanus want to stay. And some of the men make light and are put in their places. He's not King for nothing.
Please ask before archiving.

Disclaimer: fic·tion (fĭk'shən)n.

Word count: 1980

Beta: Namarie120 looked this over for me (thank you!). Her only comment was more. So all the mistakes in it are mine and mine alone.

Part 1 Des Konigs Loesgeld
Part 2 King's Ransom
Part 3 (pornish interlude for Namarie)Before the Fall

Wolgemut is an old Germanic term meaning, 'to be in a good mood'.



Viggo's men gathered in the outer paddock of the east wing stables at midday, everyday, to practice and learn and care for their gear. The roofline was long and low with great shaggy overhanging thatch under which benches had been placed facing the open-ended paddock.

Boys ran about, mock fighting and wrestling while older men sharpened weapons and laughed, passing earthen jars of beer between them and making rude jokes about each other.

At the far end of the benches a stump served as target for a few practicing throwing knives while two worked leather into thongs, the ends beneath their feet.

"That's it, then." Will said, tying one end of leather off and setting it aside.

"What's it, then?" said his friend.

"Fighting Rome, in the spring. We've a bargaining chip now. So, no fighting. I think I may get married." Will mused and selected several strands of leather from the next group. His friend smacked him in the head with the bundle of leather strings.

"Hey." He said, rubbing the wound.

"Lunkhead. Viggo's keeping'im." Said his friend.

"He is not." Will felt the rush of righteous indignation. "That's insane. He's. No, Dom, he's not is he?" The anger in his voice bled away to panicked disbelief.

"Yes, he is." Dom said then grabbed a handful of Will's jerkin and pulled him into his lap. "And there's no getting married for you, daft bugger." Dom sealed his proclamation with a hard, deep kiss. "Not while I'm around, you're not."

"And just who d'you think I was talking about?" Will smiled.

Dom hummed, pulling Will deeper into his lap, laughing up into blazing hazel eyes.


"The house is three leagues south, Sir. Guarded, as we thought." Linus stood at attention waiting for Csokas to reply. Csokas nodded, a short hard shake of the head, turned his back on his soldiers and walked back to the small fire.

He watched the fire's flickering lights, or seemed to, his hand clenched tight around the handle of his sword and images of Orlanus rolling through his mind. As a boy, just arrived with the battalion, so brash and affectionate. Csokas had very nearly had before Arenas saw caught sight of the boy. There'd been no end of simmering antagonism between them because of it.

Even now, years later, Orlanus still occupied his thoughts, populated his fantasies, circled carefully around the edges of his awareness, all that clear, brown skin and the narrow width of hips a constant attraction.

And his commander was a calculating bastard. Arenas would leave Orlanus sleeping, used and barely covered while he attended to business, providing a bit of distraction that kept Csokas just that much off balance.

A tactic that had worked brilliantly.

Csokas’ grip tightened as he remembered the implied insult. 'I have him, you don't' was what that said to him and he resented Arenas bitterly for it.

Now, with Orlanus so close by, he was wracked with anxiety.

Tomorrow he would send a message and a man into the midst of their enemy and try to retrieve his commanders’s lost centurion.

What would happen then would depend a great deal on Orlanus condition.

If he were alive, there was no doubt he'd be returned to the regiment and most certainly beaten for his insubordination. And sent back to Rome in shame. Most likely to marry and become part of his family's holdings. Though how well he'd do making sons was up for debate.

Csokas smiled darkly. Oh yes, Orlanus making sons was laughable. His life with the army suited him perfectly. He was a passable soldier, yes, but he was a sublime catamite and one that he knew Arenas would miss greatly.

Perhaps there was a chance even now for Marton to acquire Orlanus. Perhaps a life with Marton would prove more appealing than the shadow life of Rome and its sordid charades. Well. All would be revealed on the morrow.

He gestured to the men to set up their rude camp and doffed his cloak to settle in for the night.


Far to the south, just on the border with Alsace, one cohort lead by a young commander, Quintus, made camp. Their uniforms were clean and new, well kept and finely woven. Even through the leagues of marching, all of them were well shod and fed, their tempers even and stable.

Quintus dropped into his chair with a hearty sigh and accepted a cup of wine from his steward, Darius. His commanders sat around him, drinking and laughing. All his age, all jovial and flush with money and the heady feeling of power.

Tomorrow they would cross into the Germanic lands and put an end to the bastard Delias’ only remaining son.

Quintus looked forward to dipping his sword into noble blood.


Boron sat, elbows on the heavy wooden table, head in his hands. The rough drawing Faran had given him lay to one side, its small red lines with Roman numerals staring balefully back at him.

He sat back and sighed.

"So, two factions of Rome meet here to fight over one man?" Boron smiled ruefully. "I'm made to feel very grateful I gave that boy away." He looked thoughtfully at Faran, ideas working at fevered pitch in his mind.

Faran sat back, hands across the bridge of his belly and looked at back at his brother.

“Time to fight, brother.” Faran said. The look on Boron’s face confirmed that he agreed.

“Call the men.” Boron said. Faran nodded.


Orlanus dreamt of Rome. The marble hall of his father’s home spilled away from his dreaming eyes, a confusion of black marble and blood red drapes, the Corinth’s topped in gold.

A small Nubian Monkey perched by his head whispered that his father’s house was draped in blue and wondered, in his mother’s voice, when the drapes had been changed.

He floated dizzily down the long colonnade toward the family bath where his sister, Orlania, sat playing a strange lute strung with flames that burned her fingers though her tranquil expression never changed.

His blood pumped frantically and he called out to her but the sound, when it came, was pale and stretched and his arms would not move though he struggled to lift them.

Against the bathing room wall a strange silhouette danced and he watched in horror as the dark figures tangled and fell leaving a pool of blood running toward his sandaled feet.

Panic gripped him and he jumped to avoid the red tide, the startle making it through to his sleeping body and he jerked and cried out into the darkened timber room.

“Antonias!” He screamed, his breath coming in gasping heaves.

Beside him, Viggo woke in shocked alarm. He turned himself on the bed, knelt and took both of Orlanus’ hands and looked him in eye.

“Orlanus, come now. You’ve been dreaming. Come back to me.” Viggo spoke in a low, soothing patter until reason returned to Orlanus eyes and he returned the clasp of Viggo’s hands.

“Antonias, my father. I dreamed…I dreamt..” Orlanus shook visibly. “My father is dead.” He said finally.

Viggo paled, his mouth setting into a thin line.

“It was a dream, friend. That is all. Come now, lay with me.” Viggo moved slowly back to Orlanus’ side and helped him to lie back onto the furs.

“…a dream.” He murmured.

Viggo kissed Orlanus’ brow and gently swept the sweaty hair away from his eyes.

“Come, let me help you forget.” Viggo whispered and kissed Orlanus’ mouth.

Orlanus parted his lips greedily, sighing into the kiss, his eyelids drooping. He lifted his head, his kiss growing harder, Orlanus’ hands coming up to frame Viggo’s face, keeping him in still as he licked into the King’s mouth.

He slid his leg over Viggo’s hips, jammed his elbow down into the bed and used his leverage to flip them, Viggo coming to rest under Orlanus with a muffled thump.

The jolt knocked them apart, Viggo looking up at the Roman, his eyes narrowing.

“And what would you have of me, Legionary Delia?” Viggo murmured in the Roman tongue.

Orlanus teased Viggo’s lips with his own, sweeping down across them and away, all the while looking into Viggo’s face. “Only what you would have of me, my Lord King.” Orlanus answered in German.

Viggo smiled, reaching up to capture the teasing lips, eyebrow raised.

“And is that not reaching above your station, Legionary Delia?” Viggo countered.

Orlanus smiled dirtily and kissed Viggo again. He looked Viggo up and down, taking in the hard carved planes of his face and the blue eyes, the lush lips, sweeping in to kiss again.

When he released Viggo, he sobered. “Help me to forget, Viggo. Help me…”

Viggo slid his hands up, circling his arms around Orlanus waist.

“Then, take what you need.”

The two regarded each other until Orlanus lowered his head and tugged Viggo’s lip into his mouth. He rolled his hips and Viggo responded, their skin becoming sweaty where they touched.

Viggo’s thighs slid apart and Orlanus settled between them, one hand sliding down the sleek hip and over the round muscle of his ass, lifting Viggo’s thigh, settling it over his own legs.

Viggo began to pant, his breath coming quicker as Orlanus dipped his fingers in the oil, watched as the hand slid between them, jumping slightly as the fingers bumped and slid over his sac and down, across his perineum and brushed wetly over his hole.

He nodded quickly when Orlanus slowed, looking at him.

“When?” Orlanus breathed.

Viggo sighed. “Long ago. It doesn’t matter now. Go on.” He nodded.

Orlanus returned his nod and slipped a finger into Viggo. Viggo’s chin lifted, he gasped and smiled, tightly. “Go on…” he said.

Orlanus worked Viggo open slowly, with long dragging pulls and thick fingered plunges, until Viggo’s eyes rolled back and his lids drooped closed and he began to swear in his guttural Germanic tongue.

He entered Viggo when Viggo’s words became only moans and gasps. His cockhead breached the outer ring of muscle and Viggo arched under him, swearing. Orlanus slid his knees up under Viggo’s thighs, pushing himself up until he sat back onto his heels, hands resting on the ridges of Viggo’s hips.

Orlanus let his head dropped back and his hips ride up, pushing his cock deep into Viggo, dragging his crown over the small knot of nerves. Viggo bucked and Orlanus pushed down with his hands, letting his hips drop back down and then rise again, slowly, plunging deep and long into the hot tightness.

Again, Orlanus breathed in, rose, stabbing up and up, holding Viggo down brutally, then exhaling slowly, dropping back to his heels. In, rise, thrust; down, out exhale. Orlanus’ teeth clicked closed and he groaned long and loud, his finish beginning to build in his tight sac, tempting him to thrust hard and fast.

But he held his ground, keeping to his slow pace even as Viggo bucked again, curving up, his shoulders off the bed as he looked at their joined bodies and dropped back swearing.

The thrusts slowed, deepened, and Orlanus opened his mouth, his brow folded into a grimace and he hollered as he shot his come deep into Viggo’s body.

Viggo pushed up with his hips and this time Orlanus allowed him, letting Viggo push him back amongst the furs, his limbs heavy and languid from his pleasure. Viggo felt Orlanus slide from him as he pushed him down and he dropped his hand down to collect the Roman’s come and slap it on his own aching cock.

A moment later he was deep inside and thrusting, pushing Orlanus further into the furs with each frantic thrust. He dropped his head down onto Orlanus shoulder and screamed out as he finish, Orlanus’ hand in his hair.

Date: 2007-08-12 07:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/tweedle_/
Am soooo glad to see more of this verse. I love the Orlanus backstory. He is such a Helen. And that was some spanking hot sex. :)

Date: 2007-08-12 08:23 pm (UTC)
ext_6387: (Default)
From: [identity profile] chickenfried-jo.livejournal.com
;) Thank you so much. I'm hoping to wrap this up before I move on to this other huge project. Ahhhh, Helen. Yes, I think he was sooo miss cast in Troy. *nod nod*. And I can't seem to write them without sex. It's a curse. Thanks for commenting.

Date: 2007-08-12 08:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/tweedle_/
You're welcome. :) And would just like to add that I really hope there's some Elly story lurking. Bit of a weakness for me.

Date: 2007-08-24 02:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] oceansecrets2.livejournal.com
I'm hoping to wrap this up before I move on to this other huge project.

Ah, then I have two things to look forward to! :-D

Date: 2007-08-30 05:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wede-fic.livejournal.com
Woot! You read it! I'm so glad. ;)

Date: 2007-08-30 11:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] oceansecrets2.livejournal.com
Absolutely! I fall behind on LJ at times but I always try to keep up with my friends - especially when they have fic I'm waiting for! *grins*

Wolgemut 4

Date: 2007-08-30 06:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] willys-digs.livejournal.com
Oh god lord have mercy! :P



Re: Wolgemut 4

Date: 2007-08-30 05:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wede-fic.livejournal.com
*is afraid* I'm guessing that wasn't so good?

Re: Wolgemut 4

Date: 2007-08-30 05:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] willys-digs.livejournal.com
Oh, it was good. Trust, IT was GOOD! hehehe



Date: 2008-02-27 06:55 am (UTC)
msilverstar: (viggo-orli welly)
From: [personal profile] msilverstar
Hey, I just found this archive and I really like them. I hope you write some more lotrips!

Date: 2008-06-15 08:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wede-fic.livejournal.com
You're too kind. I love your stories and it means a lot to me that you've taken the time to comment. I'll see what I can do. My rl is kinda busy, but I'll try.

Date: 2008-03-16 05:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] itstonedme.livejournal.com
With the completion of Wolgemut and all of the terrific King's Ransom, I have now officially made my way through your entire archive.

*Mimics Munch's The Scream and wonders what to do now?*

Whenever you wish to gift us with more of this universe or anything, we are ready out here to do our happy dance. No pressure:)

Date: 2008-03-22 07:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wede-fic.livejournal.com
Hello! Thank you, you are very kind.


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