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guyintermittent · 2 days ago

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Icarus

This was initially written for the 'sunburn' prompt(with admittedly quite a loose connection) but I realised literally earlier today that it also worked with the drink prompt(again a fairly loose connection) so I've added that as well lmao

Bit of context: his was written as a scene that I already had "planned" as part of my Gladiator x MotoGP AU that I thought would fit somewhat with the 'sunburn' prompt so naturally I wrote 2.2K words for it!!

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Dovi wondered what he was doing there. Well, he knew what - the emperor had oh-so casually invited him for dinner and Dovi had oh-so politely accepted. What was so confusing about that?

Well, for one, in all the eight years that Dovi had been a legate and the however-many years before that that he’d served Rome in its armies, Valentino had never once invited Dovi to dinner. They had, of course, eaten together before, at parties and state events and whatnot, but a private dinner?

It wasn’t like he and Valentino were friends. Colleagues, perhaps? An emperor and one of his many generals. So no, definitely not friends.

The other thing that made this suspicious was how it had happened. Upon returning from the colosseum that afternoon, Dovi had found a messenger waiting in his house. Not a message left in the care of his staff, but an actual messenger waiting for him to come back with a summons to dinner that Dovi knew was far too polite and official for Valentino to have written it himself. When he’d finished reading, he looked up and saw the messenger waiting patiently, and confirmed that he would attend. The messenger smiled like his answer didn’t matter. It didn’t, really: you couldn’t exactly say “I’m busy” to the grand emperor of Rome.

A guard greeted him as he approached, bowing his head respectfully, then turned and led Dovi through the gates and up a set of long, low steps. Valentino’s house, or rather palace, on the Palatine was a sight to behold - it wasn’t just the home of an emperor, but also of a man who knew his importance. A man who revelled in it, actually.

Who even needs a stream diverted through their grounds? Dovi thought, crossing the pale marble bridge, What does he do, piss in it? The idea made him snort, loud enough for the guard to inform him that they were arriving at the doors(finally).

The great slabs of bronze swung open and Dovi found himself rushed through, a serving girl assuring him that the emperor had been expecting him.

Of course he has, he summoned me barely an hour ago.

“Ah, Andrea! I’m so glad you could make it!!” Valentino’s grip on his arm was as tight as a bear trap as he led his guest through another doorway, “Come, sit, we will eat soon.”

Dovi nodded dutifully and took a seat at Valentino’s side. The table clearly wasn’t meant for just two, as it stretched further down the dining hall to the point where Andrea was almost sure he could sit his whole legionary command there and still have room for their families.

Small talk and small drinks passed the time, and yet the question still itched in the back of his mind: Why am I here, Valentino?

It would take a few courses of poultry and strange vegetables to get the answer out of him.

“You visited Márquez.” A statement, not a question. Very clearly not a question, just like the invite earlier.

“Yes, Caesar, I did.” Dovi replied, his voice even and calm, despite the muscles tugging at the corner of his mouth. So this is why I’m here, he thought, you want to know if Marc is plotting to kill you, and if so, you want to make sure that I won’t do it.

“He’s a dangerous man.” Valentino said, skewering a slice of something Dovi could only identify through a guess. “Very dangerous. Not to be trusted, you know?”

“I know.” Dovi nodded, glancing at an ornate tapestry on the adjacent wall and returning to meet Valentino’s piercing scrutiny.

The emperor studied him for a moment, searching, then seemed to remember himself and smiled, showing off his teeth, “Of course you do. You know!” Valentino chuckled, dropping his head back, “You know what he did. You know what you did.”

Dovi only nodded again, slowly. He knew. The gods knew that he knew.

Valentino only stared at him, like he was trying to read a language that he thought he understood but was only just realising he didn’t. Upon coming to the understanding that he couldn’t gain anything from this, Valentino slapped his palms against the tabletop and clapped, suggesting wine in the courtyard. Naturally, Dovi agreed. Despite how… unusual Valentino was acting, Dovi couldn’t help but want to engage with him properly. He was the emperor, after all, everyone found him intriguing at the very least.

There were cups waiting for them already: ceramic and sanguine. They sat down on lavish benches, each taking a testing sip of the wine: Valentino sniffed his first, then sipped it very delicately, eyeing the cup suspiciously, and then after a pause and a small smile, took a longer, more savouring swig, whereas Dovi sucked it between his teeth, allowing the taste to flood his mouth and pour over his tongue. The wine was alright, objectively, and Dovi was sure that plenty of senators and other similar folk would proclaim that it was the finest in the empire, especially with Valentino present. In reality, the taste was fine, but it was acidic enough to make Dovi want to scrunch his lips up his nose after a sip that was too bold.

Why am I here? Again, it felt like Valentino was carefully ignoring the elephant in the room. It’s Marc, I know that. But why?

After more small talk, news that wasn’t that new and anecdotes about foolish politicians and senate gossip, it seemed that the emperor had run out of artless stalling.

“You know, Andrea, the, eh, the Greeks, they have this… story, that I have found quite fascinating…” Valentino stood, his back to Dovi as he appeared to speak to a sculpture of Mars.

Dovi raised his eyebrows, expressing the kind of small intrigue usually reserved for drunks and small children.

“They talk of a boy and his father who were locked in- well, the story changes, but for this well say that they were locked in a tower.” Small hand gestures that mimicked Valentino’s way of speech filled the air, although they didn’t illustrate much. “The father was a great inventor responsible for the creation of many things that… well, they’re not relevant right now. This inventor built wings for his son and himself, to take them out of the tower and to their freedom.”

What’s your point with this? Dovi took another delicate sip of his wine. I know you have one, I just hope you get to it before tomorrow morning.

Valentino paused to sigh dramatically “But when they did escape, this boy made a foolish decision. You see, being stuck in a tower, he had never really experienced the sun, not like we do, safely and moderately. The boy thought that his wings made him invincible, and up and up and up he flew towards the sun. He found a new joy in its warmth, and he just wanted more. He didn’t understand the true nature of the sun’s warmth, how quickly it could turn. How quickly it could burn. The closer he got, the more dangerous it became. He didn’t even notice the heat, even while it scorched the feathers of his wings and melted the wax that held them together.”

Another pause. Dovi began to understand what Valentino was really talking about. This had nothing to do with the Greeks or their tales. Not really.

“He only noticed when the sun burnt his skin, heat becoming pain, pain becoming agony, flight becoming fall. By then it was too late. His blind trust in the joy he felt from the sun’s warmth became his downfall.” Valentino barked a laugh. “Literally! His father could do nothing to help him, no one could. It had been his own fault, despite his father’s warnings not to fly too high, he fell due to his own… ah, what is the word….? Hubris! He trusted himself and the sun too much, rather than listen to those who were experienced. And it killed him. By the time he hit the water he was going so fast it was like solid stone.”

Another sigh escaped the emperor as he shook his head, although when he raised his eyes his gaze was careful, assessing. Dovi took another long, slow sip and fought the urge to grimace as the taste puckered his throat.

“Not a happy story.” He said finally.

Valentino laughed “No! It isn’t! But you understand, yes? It was the boy’s fault. His father warned him, his father who was more used to the sun, who had encountered it before where the boy had not. He would have been fine - alive, unscathed, unburned - had he listened.”.

Dovi hadn’t met Marc prior to any of the recent shit show with him in the colosseum, but he’d heard about him.

“One of the emperor’s new favourite generals,” One of his senior centurions had informed him, something like a year before this strange dinner, “Very young, I hear, and pretty. If you ask me, that may be why he likes him so much, if you see what I’m saying.”

He had also heard that he was bright, and charismatic, although not quite like Valentino was. He’d heard that Marc’s men spoke highly of him and praised him for the passion and energy he brought to the battlefield. He’d heard that when Dani had semi-retired from his position as legate, he had entrusted Marc with the charge of his legion at only 20 years old.

He’d heard all that, but had never met him. Not that he’d been especially bothered about it, he’d been pretty sure he already understood who Marc was without meeting him: he was the emperor’s golden boy who also happened to be one of Rome’s fiercest legates. An overgrown teenager with a hell of a lot of power and influence.

But having seen Marc fight in the colosseum earlier that day, and having then met him that afternoon, Dovi was beginning to reconsider his initial assessment. Valentino’s current view of Marc appeared to be wildly different to his previous one, and wildly different to pretty much anything Dovi had so far picked up about the guy.

He needed to think about what he knew, about how Marc appeared to different people:

Valentino: wonderful, one of his favourite generals.

Senior centurion: young and pretty.

Assorted politicians: bright and charismatic(but not like Valentino).

Marc’s army: passionate and energetic in battle and as a general.

Dani(although not explicitly): clearly trustworthy and skilled enough to take over his armies, even at 20 years old.

Dovi(initially): young, hungry and powerful.

Dovi(after the colosseum): fucking incredible.

Dovi(after visiting Marc): very lonely. very afraid. very interesting. a little insane. pretty.

Valentino(now): dangerous. like the sun. appealing in the same way a poisonous plant is appealing. or the same way sunlight is appealing until your skin burns and boils.

“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Andrea?” Valentino’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Does he really think I’m that stupid?

“Yes, Caesar.”

“About… well you know.”

“Yes, Caesar. I understand.”

Seriously - choosing the battlefield over the senate house doesn’t make me an idiot.

More drinks and fruits that weren’t all that filling. More talk of senators and legates and menial affairs. More stars emerging in the sky.

By the time Dovi said goodbye, they must’ve been more than halfway through the night, his tongue heavy in his mouth and his vision both sharp and unfocused at the same time.

Just as he stepped out the door, Valentino curled his fingers around his arm.

“Andrea. You will remember what I said, won’t you?” He smiled, although there was nothing soft or kind in his eyes.

“Of course.”

But I can make my own judgments, thanks.

Valentino scanned his face, eyes searching for a slip of a smile or flicker of doubt, “Good! The Greeks, you know, they can be very wise people.”

Dovi only nodded before turning back down the path towards the gates, once again escorted by a guard. As he left the emperor’s house in the distance, Dovi considered what he’d said.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think Marc was harmless - no, he’d seen him in the colosseum, had seen the dark stains under his fingernails when he’d visited, had seen the heated glow in his eyes up close - he knew he was dangerous without Valentino trying to tell him through some bullshit metaphor.

But he knew more than that too. Knew that Marc was fucking terrified, although he wouldn’t admit it, and knew that Marc was more than just some wild, scheming force. That much he’d managed to see in their conversation earlier that day.

And he certainly wasn’t appreciative of Valentino’s barely concealed threat. Dovi understood, of course, that Valentino wasn’t only talking about Marc’s potential to be dangerous. He wondered what exactly Valentino’s little story implied about his own experiences.

“His father warned him, his father who was more used to the sun, who had encountered it before where the boy had not.”

It seemed a little like Valentino may not have been telling him the truth about Marc initially - at least not the whole truth.

Now, that Dovi found interesting. Almost as interesting as Marc himself.

Almost.

Dovi spent a few quiet moments gazing at the vast, shadowy figure of the colosseum before retiring to bed that night.

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this was my first fic that I actually felt like sharing since I was like 13 and on amino sooooo yk, I hope you liked it!!! :)

#rpf summer camp #motogp #motogp rpf #andrea dovizioso #valentino rossi #marc marquez #rhys' writing #dovquez #sort of #rosquez #also sort of

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