#indictus cap 1

[tears-and-lilies]

Indictus, cap. I

Milo is so much baby D:

(tablinum = master’s office; impluvium = low water basin for rain water in the atrium; atrium = kind of the central room where the master of the house meets guests and stuff; tablinum and atrium are next to each other and in this case separated by a curtain) --> I’ll put some explanations between brackets at the start of every chapter where necessary, but I try to explain it in the chapter too without breaking the POV so it should be fine without

Tag: @lockedupuniverse @unicornscotty @milk-carton-whump @abitefullofwhump @sideblogformindtrash @whump-it

CW: slavery, broken whumpee, low self-esteem, self-loathing, perfectionism, cruel whumper, humiliation (lightly), slapping, kicking, pushed into small basin of water, forced to stand in cold, noncon touching (non sexual)

***

Milo was working on lighting the oil lamps and candles in the house, when he was summoned to the tablinum. He swallowed before he pulled aside the curtain to enter the office. He knew he had done something wrong. He always messed up. Too ashamed to look up at the strict face of master Corvinus, he shuffled to his side.

The man was sitting at his desk, tapping his stylus on the wood. He was impatient.

‘Do you know why I summoned you?’, his master said. His voice was low and intimidating.

Milo shook his head.

‘Use your tongue.’

‘Sorry, master. I don’t know, master’, he whispered hastily. Inadequate, he was laughable. How could he forget what mistakes he made? How could he disappoint his master like this?

Master stood up, slamming the stylus down onto the table. He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and smoothed it out with a rough movement. He held the paper in front of Milo’s nose, barely a finger width away from his face. He pointed at something.

Milo’s breath caught. There it was. A spelling error. So small, yet so stupid.

‘Do you get it now? When I asked you to write down this letter, I trusted you to handle it with the upmost carefulness. Do you understand?’

He could barely manage to squeak: ‘Yes master.’

A slap to his face.

‘Then why do I read this mistake?’

‘I’m- I’m so-’

A kick to his leg. He cried out in pain and immediately clasped his mouth.

‘Dumb slave! This letter is meant for Scaevinus! Do you understand how important this is?! Do you think that, because he’s my friend, you can afford to make mistakes?!’

He grabbed Milo’s wrist and pulled him along. Milo whimpered from the stinging pain in his leg every time he put it down hard. And master was still yelling at him while dragging him to the atrium.

‘Do you know how important it is that he considers me a friend?! Of course you don’t! What does a useless servant like you know about this!’

He was so sorry. Sorry to be useless, sorry to make mistakes. He wanted to tell his master, but tears and a lump in his throat made it difficult to speak.

‘Scaevinus is held in favour by Caesar himself’, master hissed. ‘Therefore, I can’t afford my pitiful slave to make mistakes. Got it?’

‘Y-yes master.’

‘Good.’

His master pulled harder and pushed his disappointing slave from the side of the impluvium, the low water basin where rainwater was assembled. Milo gasped as he fell into the low water. The beautiful tunica his master had spent money on for him… It was all wet and soaking.

Other house slaves stopped their work when they heard the splash. Milo turned red. He knew he was making a fool out of himself, and now was deeply ashamed of his mistake.

‘Tonight, you can stand outside’, master said, his voice back to its normal volume. ‘You can stay outside until you’ve dried.’

Milo’s eyes widened. ‘But- but nights are dangerous-’

Master laughed, and Milo’s entire body was blushing now. At least master was happy…

‘You really are an idiot, Milo. Do you honestly think someone would steal a slave as useless as you?’

‘No, I’m sorry master’, he whispered in reply.

‘I’m sure you are.’

Master walked back towards the tablinum. He halted when he took the curtain, and looked back at his miserable slave.

‘I want that letter rewritten tomorrow morning, before the morning greeting. Without mistakes. Understood?’

He stressed every syllable, as if Milo wouldn’t understand otherwise. The worst thing was that Milo wasn’t even sure if he would. Shyly he nodded.

He’d do anything to make up for his imperfections.

***

Milo was so cold, stumbling inside the house to make his way to his own little room. He had taken the ruined letter with him and now sat at his small desk. He put on a candle, just enough to make out the ink on the paper. On a new sheet of paper he began copying the letter.

Was it normal that it was so cold? He was shivering and he couldn’t seem to stop. He could barely hold his stylus. Before he knew it, he spilled ink onto the paper.

I’ll redo it.

This time, he held the stylus tight and handled it carefully after dipping it in the ink. The words were coming together prettily. Sometimes, master would call his handwriting beautiful. It almost brought tears to his eyes. To think that his work could be worthy of praise…

There he did it again! He messed up! Immediately he grabbed a new sheet of paper and restarted. Don’t think about compliments when you don’t deserve them.

He held the tip of his tongue between his teeth, focusing the most he could to make this letter perfect. Master said it was important. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again. If he kept messing up, he would ruin master’s reputation. What kind of slave embarrasses his master?

Did he just write that word twice? He could kick himself. Another piece of paper it was.

Writing was becoming difficult. His vision was blurry, and the elegant lines he formed the letters with turned into a mess. He started anew. And again. And once again.

Gross sobs erupted from his throat. This was terrible. Why was he so useless? He dropped the stylus and covered his head with his arms, placing it on the desk. He would never be acceptable. Everything he ever did turned out wrong. What could he do now? He couldn’t present himself to his master without a new letter!

He gasped, dried his tears, and started on a new sheet of paper.

#whump #historical whump #broken whumpee #cruel whumper #low self esteem tw #self loathing tw #humiliation tw #slavery tw #my writing #indictus #indictus cap 1 #milo the secretary slave #corvinus the fake corvinus not the real one #hehe these are going to be their tags i decided just now