Agron had always thought he could withstand physical pain well. He was a strong man, a beast from the east of the Rhine. And yet here he was, frightened like a small boy even though he did not want to admit it to himself. Two Romans held him tightly and stretched his arms out on a wooden plank. Caesar, with a triumphant smile, waited with nails and hammer. They were going to crucify him. His heart was beating fast. He gulped. But he would not let the fucking Romans see him like this, so he spent what little energy he had left on glaring at them all. Caesar's traitor bent down and drove a nail into Agron's palm. After a heavy hammering came the pain. And there was still more to come. The gladiator could not help but let out screams of agony to the delight of his captors, who enjoyed the suffering of others (and more so in someone from Spartacus' inner circle). For an instant, the Germanic thought crossed his mind to say everything he knew, to betray Spartacus so that the nail would no longer pierce his flesh and bones. But no, he had to make an effort and restrain himself. Besides, it was too late to speak, his sentence on the cross had been signed. He soon cursed himself that such a dastardly thought had crossed his mind. His screams continued to flood the camp, making him the centre of all eyes, both from comrades and enemies. The pain in his hands spread through his arms and the dead weight of his battered body as he was lifted did nothing to improve his situation. For that is how he lay, dying, a step between this world and the next. One by one, the Romans left. The last was Caesar, who gazed at him under the cross.
'The great Agron and Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, have fallen like flies. If Spartacus surrounds himself with useless men like yourselves, we shall soon see the end of him.'
And he walked away with an air of superiority. While he knew his words were not entirely true, for he knew the group of rebels well, and he knew their leader was cunning and hard to kill, he was in a good mood, and provoking the German was a good mood to raise his spirits.
So Crixus was dead… The fucking Gaul with whom he had had so many disagreements had fallen in battle at the gates of Rome, of glory. Agron sighed, which made his whole body ache even more. They had come so close. At least he hoped that his efforts and those of the thousands who had followed Crixus were worth it and that Spartacus and the free slaves could make it safely across the Alps, for they were several days ahead of Crassus' troops. The German looked around. Hundreds of bodies badly wounded in battle and with clear signs of torture were piled up along the camp wall, waiting for their hour to come, an end very different from that of the gladiator himself. For a moment Agron felt envious of them for not being nailed to wooden posts awaiting an utterly dishonourable death. He should have gone down on the battlefield, fighting, taking all those sons of bitches with him, and above all, in a dignified and swift manner. Why deny it to himself: even though he thought he could handle it all, he didn't want to suffer the slow and painful ordeal he had been condemned to. And all because of his position at Spartacus' side. If the Thracian had not held him in such high regard, he would have followed him in the background, doing his duty and serving the cause with the same determination.
What had Spartacus seen in him to give him such an opportunity - could he be compared to the Rainmaker, the Undefeated Gaul or Gannicus, the God of the Arena? Had it been he who proposed to attack Rome, no one would have followed him. And yet his lust for revenge and bloodlust made him follow the Gaul to certain death without thought for the consequences. While he was free to make his own decisions, he had to recognise that it had been a mistake to leave the side of Spartacus, whom he had trusted and admired so much. He had left behind a large group of slaves who, helpless in the absence of warriors who had joined Crixus' campaign, would not survive a surprise attack. He had abandoned Nasir.
Nasir…
The sun was high in the sky and Agron could feel beads of sweat running down his forehead and neck. He could barely feel his arms anymore. The wound on his torso stung. Sooner or later he would leave this world, so why resist? So, weakened, he dropped his head to his chest and his mind wandered to madness and exhaustion. Leaving Nasir out of the war, forcing him to stay at Spartacus' side despite his refusal had been the best thing he had done, even if it broke his heart to think of it. He would not have allowed himself to drag the man he loved into a risky venture and certain death. Now he, thanks to her sacrifice, would be safe. He would live. He would be free and escape the clutches of Rome across the mountains. And, why deny it, he would be happy next to the cursed sackcloth. When their paths parted, Agron knew he was leaving the Syrian in good hands, for whether he liked it or not, it was clear that Castus would take good care of him. And that Nasir would allow himself to be cared for. Their relationship had been stable for more than a year, with its good times and bad, its quarrels and its reconciliations. They had sworn to each other that nothing and no one would keep them apart. They gave each other chaste kisses in public and let themselves be swept away by the most absolute passion that led them to fuck like gods in private.
The German had never felt anything like this for anyone before. Why, then, had he not told him? A thousand and one tokens of affection for this exotic, petite young man, yet unable to put his deepest feelings into words. Words that could never be spoken again.
Her life was slowly slipping away from her body. Soon he would be reunited with his brother. Hard… Agon thought of his childhood, of how they had been captured as slaves and sold to the house of Batiatus, of how his brother had slowly grown up in the ludus and how he had given his life for him.
His bladder could take no more. Dirty, disgraced, humiliated like a stray dog. That would be the end of him. The sunlight blinded him, and at last the gladiator fell into a state of unconsciousness from which, he was sure, he would not wake up again…
An overly sudden movement that shook his aching body made him startle. Confused, thinking that perhaps he was already travelling to the other side, he opened the eye that was not black.
It must have been a vision. Spartacus stood before him, firm and imposing with his cloak in the wind and his hand around the hilt of his sword. Could he be delirious?
Agron was laid on the ground and the Romans removed the nails from his useless hands, which made him feel a mixture of sharp pain and relief. It made no fucking sense. Then, between a Roman and someone who clearly wasn't, they managed to pull him up. He was barely standing, and if it hadn't been for Spartacus grabbing him just in time he would have collapsed to the ground like a rag doll.
'You are still in this world, brother' said Spartacus in a calm tone, though his eyes revealed an uncontrollable inner happiness.
'How…?'
'Let us not go into details now. Crassus and I came to an agreement and the prisoners have been released. Let us return to our own.'
The Thracian slipped Agron's nearly limp arm around his shoulders and his own around his companion's waist. Around them, dozens of rebels did the same for the survivors, and together, with slow, short steps, they walked away from the Roman base.
Agron put all his strength into walking, and also into walking as upright as possible, but every now and then he stumbled and all his weight fell on his leader and friend. He needed to rest, sleep for days and regain his strength to be of use again. Spartacus did not complain about anything the whole way. Not only did he walk at the German's pace and carry him when his strength failed him, but he kept checking that everything around him was in order.
Suddenly, Agron was aware that they were returning to camp, "home" if he could call it that. He would see Nasir again, but… would his beloved be waiting for him with open arms, or would his arrival disrupt his new life? Spartacus spoke as if he had read his mind:
'The Romans left Naevia alive and she gave us the sad news of Crixus' fall and yours. We held games in your name. Nasir paced the camp as if he were not of this world, performing his duties but without a hint of life behind his eyes. I know that when the pirate Castus tried to console him he only got a few good punches in response. He still thinks you are dead, brother. Your return will restore peace… To both of us.'
Agron nodded and closed his eyes, letting himself drift away.
It was not until the touch of a familiar hand touched his face that Agron opened his eyes. Before him, a divine vision he thought he would never see again. Nasir's gaze met his and a myriad of feelings flooded their hearts as Spartacus carefully laid the German's arm upon the little Syrian's, assisting in this unexpected and blessed reunion.
'The Gods return you to my arms' said Nasir, his eyes brimming with tears.
'I was fool to ever leave them,' Agron replied. Seeing his beloved again had given him the strength to speak.
Spartacus felt that Nasir's company would be more welcome than his own and let the lovers wander off into the crowd.
Nasir led Agron to the tent he shared with several women and children he was to protect and watch over. He arranged blankets and gently laid Agron on them. Every movement was followed by a grunt of pain, but the gladiator's heart was fully healed by the dark-eyed, brown-skinned balm.
'I thought… I thought you'd gone from this world' whispered Nasir, who this time allowed tears to stream down his cheeks. Tears he had long held back because, as a Spartacus warrior, he had not allowed himself to shed them.
Agron stroked the Syrian's handsome face with a bloody hand to wipe away the streams of salt water.
'Your memory kept me alive.'
Then the Syrian grasped that gigantic hand between his own and saw the hole through it from side to side right in the centre of the palm. An intense chill ran down his spine as he realised that Agron had been crucified, but he said nothing. Silently, he looked up to the heavens and thanked the gods that he was still alive. Then he returned to reality.
'I'll wash your wounds' he said as he sat up and picked up a small earthen basin filled with water and some rags.
At that moment the door of the tent opened and a slender, black figure appeared through the door. Two pairs of eyes turned to him, and he exchanged his haughtiness for a submissive grimace.
'I know my presence is unwelcome and my company unwelcome' the man said, not daring to venture any further. However, despite our differences, I welcome your return, Agron of the East Rhine.
'Your gesture is gratefully received, Castus, but Agron needs rest' Nasir replied curtly.
The Cilician pirate nodded and left. Nasir returned to the bedside and began to wash his beloved's body as if his affection alone was enough to heal the wounds.
'Nasir, I…' Agron stammered. 'If I chose to follow Crixus, it was because…'.
'Shh, do not talk' interrupted the dark-haired man. I don't want or need explanations. You did what you thought was right and you made your decision freely, just as I freely agreed to listen to you and stand by Spartacus, which I deeply regret. But now you are here, back by my side, and that is what matters.
With a superhuman effort, Agron sat up in the blankets. Inwardly he seethed with grief, but he kept his tone calm and confident as he spoke.
'My fate is tied to that of Spartacus, as well as the rest of those people out there. One day not too far from now I will wield a sword again against the fucking Romans.' Despite his awareness of the wound in his hands, he was unable to contemplate any other option. He was a warrior, the battlefield was his life. No one could take that away from him.
'And I will be at your side,' Nasir replied quickly.
Agron smiled at the little man's haste.
'If the gods are not kind this time and decide to take me with them, there is one thing you should know,' the German continued. I disagreed with Crixus about rescuing Naevia from the mines. I did not understand why someone of his worth would sacrifice his life for the shadow of a slave he once loved. The fucking Gaul could have many others at his side, yet a feeling that escaped my reason bound him to this woman. The same feeling that bound me to you from the first moment I saw you. I would have died a thousand deaths on that cross from which Spartacus freed me just for the gift of seeing your smile one more time. You give meaning to this cause, to the war and to my life.
'Mutual sentiment that makes you the sole owner of my heart' Nasir replied with words that came from his soul.
Then he placed a tender kiss on Agron's forehead that finished healing him.
'And now sleep' he whispered as the wounded man closed his eyes. 'Sleep, Agron…'.
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