Come Away To The Water (heroinebigbang part iv)
Title: Come Away To The Water
Rating: r
Word Count: 5,825 (4/4)
Summary: Come away, little lass, come away to the water. Away from the light you always knew. We are calling to you...Naevia was born, and then lived her whole life.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Notes: Oh, this has been a labor of love. And I would be remiss in not thanking quite a few people. First of all, this all began to really form after a conversation with selonbrody where we both thought that Pietros and Naevia had been brother and sister during the first few episodes of Blood And Sand, and I swear, I only meant to write a prequel. lexiesloan took a look at this and offered such wonderful encouragement. And abvj has been invaluable, with hand-holding, suggestion and support. You will notice key lines of dialogue from the show, and my own tweak on certain scenes, and it is all a respectful homage to Stephen DeKnight and his writing team. And of course, a very special thanks to kymericl, who did the lovely artwork (link in master post).
part i
part ii
part iii
The season passed quietly. They built a fortified shelter into the mountains, and the Germans knew much about hunting and finding food in the cold weather. Spartacus, Crixus, Agron and Gannicus put their talents towards recruits. They liberated more ships (Germans, Gauls, Carthaginians, Syrians -- it no longer mattered where these people came from, so long as they were enemies of Rome), raided villas and even overtook the mines. Spartacus had built an army, and all were thirsty for Roman blood.
Naevia fought at Crixus’s side many times after removing Ashur’s head, and he began to trust her more on the battlefield. She even saved his life a time or two. But Naevia’s true talent, they all learned, was bringing together the new recruits and quietly settling the differences between those who could not understand one another through words. She seemed to pick up all the languages with the greatest of ease, and it gave her a position of respect among Spartacus’s most trusted advisors. But it was no surprise to her -- listening had been her only weapon for most of her life, and she was a master at it.
Even so, they were safe for most of that bitterly cold autumn. When Crixus had to be away from her, Nasir would stay close. If he knew her secret, he did not let on. Even so, all too soon, everybody would know and Naevia feared what would happen when she could no longer conceal herself under Crixus’s cloak. She already tired much sooner than she used to, much sooner than Saxa and the other women did, and she did not want to be left behind.
She had even been afraid to tell Crixus at first. This was no life for a babe, not yet, even if the Romans had let them be for a bit, they would be back when the thaws came.
Crixus had fallen to his knees before her, pressing his face against her still-flat belly, giving gratitude for all of their blessings. At night, in the dark of their own little world where there was no one else, he laid his big hands over her stomach covering their child and whispering words of promise in its mother’s ear -- you will be safe, you will be loved, you are my whole world.
You will be free, Naevia would add.
It was Saxa who forced them to speak the truth when Naevia fell from her horse after a long day of hunting and gathering. She curled protectively in on herself and Crixus had run to her side, wild with fear. It called the attention of all their party. “She will be more than fine,” Agron said evenly.
“He worries for his child,” Saxa spoke up, and Naevia gasped, covering herself.
After a moment, Spartacus reached out a hand to help them from the ground and congratulated Crixus on his blessings. Nasir smiled at her, and she knew that he too had known all along, and she loved her dear friend fiercely in that moment. Spartacus broke a barrel of wine that night in celebration and in a quiet moment, Naevia found herself alone with Saxa. “This is not a burden you want,” she said. Her speech was still halted in the common tongue.
Naevia instinctively covered herself again, drawing Crixus’s cloak tightly closed around her. “Not a burden.”
“Not today,” Saxa said, her eyes dark with an anger that Naevia could not define. “But when the Romans return? What then?”
It was a fear that had been ever-present but easy to forget when she saw the joy in Crixus’s eyes, felt the life inside her, filling her heart and giving her strength. A child. A free child. For what else had she stayed alive, for what else had she fought?
But the German woman was still staring at her coldly, her eyes dropping to Naevia’s stomach. “When the Romans return, what do you think happens to babies?”
“You do not know what the future holds,” Naevia said. “Maybe it will not-”
“It will,” Saxa spat, and Naevia froze in horror, suddenly understanding her with complete certainty. And the image she had been fighting against, of her mother walking away from her, toe to heel, flashed to the forefront of her mind.
“Saxa, what happened to your child?” Naevia asked softly, but she did not answer. She pointed to Naevia’s belly.
“You are not safe. You should leave with the Gallia man.”
Left alone by the fireside, Naevia ran her hands over her swollen abdomen. “Stay alive,” she whispered, terrified, and had the ghost of a child’s laughter in answer.
*
As her belly grew, Naevia’s dreams began to show memories of her past mixed with images that she could not believe, could not give into the fear of them. The sea by the ludus in Capua and mountains red with blood and fire. Diona and Pietros, laughing together as they ran through grassy meadows that they had never known as children, and when Naevia awoke, she could smell lamiaceae, and she pressed her face into Crixus’s side, trying to catch her breath. What was past and what was future and what was real?
One night, when Crixus came to their fireside and gently nudged her awake, Naevia knew, without a word spoken by him, that they would be leaving. “When?”
“In two days time,” he answered and she could see his uncertainty for the future. “We will go south with a quarter of the troops, and I will transfer command to Donar. Spartacus trusts him, as do I. He will make a fine leader.”
“Is this what you want?” Naevia asked, laying her palm on his cheek.
“I long for peace for you and our child,” he said, closing his hand over the curve of her belly. They were quiet for a moment, and Naevia remembered the gladiator so far in the past, who only longed for a glorious death. “It is only that I worry to travel such a vast distance, so close to your time. Do you feel you are strong enough?”
Naevia took a deep breath and smiled. “I would follow you anywhere. And it will certainly not be my most difficult journey. With you by my side, I have no fears.”
*
It was more difficult than she thought, saying goodbye to Nasir and the others. She had never left anyone before, it had always been those that she loved who were taken from her. Spartacus sent them off in a grand fashion with a quarter of his cavalry, and Donar’s pledge that they would find them back at Vesuvius in six months’ time, once they had dealt with Publicola, the latest shit sent from Rome to be defeated by the mighty rebel army.
In six months’ time, she and Crixus would have been disappeared from their world, if all was well.
She sat on Crixus’s horse at the head of the legion, a great honor. Crixus would take one final march as their commander, with her at his side. Gannicus had given her one of the small icons that belonged to Melitta, and Naevia remembered seeing it as a girl when she had used in prayer -- mementos from her own mother, who had been taken to captivity before Melitta had been born. She did not know if she was more touched that he had kept it or that he relinquished it to her now.
“Let it be known, that you are held in the highest honor,” Spartacus said solemnly. “And that you will not be forgotten.”
Naevia’s eyes met Nasir’s. He had saved her life in every way and there were no words of gratitude that would ever be enough. “Perhaps when this war is over, we will meet again,” she had said, when they had a private moment earlier.
He smiled kindly and wrapped her in his arms. “The next place we will meet again is the afterlife.” What he did not say, but what she understood in that moment was that this war would never truly be over.
Would they ever truly be free?
Saxa had come forward, just as they were nearly ready to set off, her eyes on Naevia’s belly which had rounded past the point of any concealment. “Stay alive,” she said, void of any emotion.
Naevia sucked in her breath. “The same to you.”
*
When the birthing pains began, they had been on the march for a week, and Naevia thought she could travel further, but Crixus made her stop. He looked more afraid than she had ever seen him. She was frightened too -- she had not expected the pain to be so overpowering.
Their great army passed them by slowly and Crixus found shelter for her just off the path. He had told Donar to ride ahead and assume command while he tried to find a woman among the ranks who would know what needed to be done. And by the time he returned with a Numidian priestess, Naevia had the babe in her arms and tears of joy in her eyes.
“You were all alone?” Crixus dove for her in fear, but Naevia could only smile. She had not been alone. She had seen her mother’s face and she was happy. You are my heartbeat.
With the slightest twinge of fear, Naevia placed the dark-skinned child in Crixus’s arms and he gazed reverently at his child. “A girl?”
“Yes,” Naevia said quietly. She wondered briefly if he was disappointed, but he touched his lips to his beautiful daughter’s face, skimming his lips over the baby-fine black curls on the top of her head. “She is perfect.”
Naevia leaned up to gaze at the child, and then kissed her man. She drew back, looking him in the eye. “Her name is Galiena.”
He looked at her with surprise, but she nodded before she spoke again. “She is a girl of Gaul, and her father is the greatest of his kind. And she will always be free.”
Crixus opened his mouth but was too overcome to speak for a moment. He nodded, tears filling his eyes and pulled Naevia to him, holding his family in his arms. “Always.”
*
They came at dawn.
When Naevia woke up in Crixus’s arms, Galiena cradled between them, the ground was gently rumbling below and her first thoughts were back to the cart, and porridge and Trebbius, but then she saw Crixus’s face relaxed in sleep and could smell the sweet, clean scent of their three-month-old daughter, and she felt safe. But then the rumbling grew louder, and Crixus awoke with a start. Galiena, too, started crying, moving her arms and trying to find her mother’s breast.
“Horses,” he said, and jerked Naevia to her feet with one hand and scooped up the baby with the other. Naevia’s heart stopped when she saw them all on the horizon -- hundreds of thousands of soldiers, so many that she could see nothing else, nothing beyond the oncoming horde.
“Fuck all, they’ve sent the entire world down upon us!” Donar pulled up next to them on his enormous black stallion. “Crixus, none would place blame on you for taking your woman and your child and getting the fuck out of here.”
Crixus hesitated not for a moment. “I would be no good to you, brother.” His grip tightened around Naevia and she let out a sharp exhale. Not him, do not take him, not him!
Donar paused for a second and then swung down from the horse, tossing the ropes to Crixus. “Ride hard, brother, and outlive us all to tell our tale.”
“Gratitude,” Crixus said, quickly throwing Naevia up on the horse’s back.
She looked down at Donar. “Stay alive,” she sobbed out loud and it was a prayer for all of them, but he just laughed, throwing his head back to the heavens.
“A glorious death is my fate, as is to any gladiator worth his own scars.” And he whipped his battle axe off his back and with a great war cry, ran headlong and without
hesitation into his fate.
Crixus rode hard around the other side of the mountain, trying to find a path of escape. It seemed they were completely surrounded. Naevia clutched on to his back and tried to keep Galiena from jostling too much.
“There,” Crixus pointed off in the distance to a dark forest. He was breathing very hard. “If we can make it there, we will hide in the shelter of the trees.”
“If?” Naevia repeated, but he spurred the horse on, and as Naevia looked behind her, she only saw the red of the Roman army sweeping towards their friends, their friends who would have followed Crixus anywhere. If only we could take you all with us.
Naevia looked down at her child, and the baby had gone still, silent and Naevia nearly cried out, but she saw that she was still breathing. It seemed their girl of Gaul had been born into war, and knew her part to help her parents fight.
Down the mountainside, and just across a vast open field, and they would be hidden in the forest. Crixus paused for a second. Nobody had followed them, but it was such a long way in the open, over a mile to the other side. They would have no protection.
He eased the horse forward, gradually picking up speed, and Naevia listened carefully. Listening, always her most reliable weapon. And there it was -- more than just four feet hitting the ground. She turned behind her, and finally cried out.
There was a pack, twenty or so soldiers on foot, running for them. None are to escape, Naevia thought. They will kill us all. She looked down to Galiena, still silent but alert. No, you must stay safe, you must stay alive.
“Naevia,” Crixus had turned around, his mouth set in a hard line. “Ride on. I will find you in the forest.”
Naevia saw the soldiers gaining on them. “No, there are too many, you cannot take them all!” He was not looking at her. She grabbed for his face, and screamed. No! He did not mean to find them at all. “Crixus, no! No, you cannot leave me, not now, you cannot leave Galiena!”
His breath quickened, and he groaned out his words. “Naevia, you have been my whole world, everything-”
“No!”
But he gripped her face to his, crushing his lips against hers, desperately loving her for the briefest moment, to last forever. And when he broke away, on a wail, he cupped his hand around Galiena’s cap of soft black curls, and kissed her forehead. “You will be free, my girl of Gaul.”
“Crixus, no!” Naevia sobbed and Galiena’s voice finally rang, protesting her father leaving her. She fights. She knows that she is not nothing, that it is worth it to fight.
But he had swung down from the horse, backing away and already drawing his sword, pointing it towards his woman and then to the heavens, in honor. “It is just as Donar said, a glorious death for all gladiators.”
“You are a father,” Naevia cried. “You are mine.”
“Yes, I am,” Crixus smiled then, brilliantly beautiful in the early morning sunlight, and Naevia sucked in her breath. My man is a god. He looked down to Galiena once more and his face began to fall. “Naevia, you must fight for her. Do not fade. Stay alive.”
Stay alive.
You are my heartbeat now.
They will not part us.
You are my whole world.
Be free.
You are everything.
Stay alive.
Galiena stirred in her arms, warm and so, so alive and Naevia felt strength fill her, the strength to fight for her child.
“Naevia!” He cried, and his voice grew desperate. “We promised her; safe, loved, free. Go!”
But Naevia waited one eternal second longer, taking in the sight of him, remembering every touch and kiss and all they had lost to reach this very moment. And all they had gained. “You are my heart, and you take it with you.”
The very last words she spoke to him before she turned the horse and rode it into the forest.
Just past the trees, she turned and looked behind her, to see that the pack had just came upon him. He was magnificent in battle, as he always had been. Naevia kicked the horse forward. She could not watch him fall.
*
Naevia followed Crixus’s plan- she hid in the woods for a day and night, too far away to see anything, but she could hear the sounds of battle, the thud and crash of swords and bodies. She bit her lip against crying out, and listened to the sound of her own breath, the horse’s breath, counted Galiena’s heartbeats. She fed her daughter- Galiena was already a warrior and knew when it was time to stop and when it was time to run. Her brave, free girl.
She did not sleep, did not dare that much, but did find food and water for herself. Galiena must stay alive, and she depended on her. There was no question. Naevia had always been able to stay alive, whatever else she lost.
When all was quiet, she decided she must move. She longed to go back, to find Crixus and burn his body, as a Gaul warrior should have been, but she did not dare. And she was too afraid of what she would find.
She set out, unsure of where she would go. Spartacus, she should try to find Spartacus, and Nasir. Naevia closed her eyes against the thought of her friend, her last real friend. She knew she would be safe with Spartacus and Agron and even Saxa, but Nasir was the last. Tonight, you can sleep...so few of us left.
Too few. And she could not yet sleep.
*
She only knew to head north, and to travel a long route. Not to be seen by any eyes, and heavens, Mother, Pietros, all who watched over them, to keep this horse, by nearly any cost. She found nuts and berries on the way - Saxa and Agron had taught her how to feed herself - and she was efficient enough with her knife to get meat on occasion. Small birds mainly, but it was enough.
She had been walking the horse for days, turning left and right and crooked ways to head north, when she led around a tree to come face to face with two Roman soldiers. One of them, the larger, took on a look that Naevia knew only too well.
No. No more men.
Her arms tightened around her baby, but Galiena did not cry out, the little warrior knowing when to use her voice.
“We have a bit of luck between us,” the larger said. Naevia could see that he still had blood on him, and she wondered how far she had gone from the fighting. He started for the horse, and Naevia drew back, tightening her hand on her knife.
But then the other one spoke up, “No.” He held out a hand to stop his companion. Naevia did not release the grip on her knife. The larger had not taken his eyes off her. He moved for her again, and the other stopped him. “No. What manner of man are you, that you attack a woman with suckling babe?”
Naevia allowed herself a small breath. No matter what, they would not take her daughter from her arms. “You can have the horse. Please, just allow myself and my child to pass.”
The one who had not moved toward her looked up at her. “Keep your horse. You might need it to bargain with men of less honor.”
“She is nothing!” The other cried out, looking back at her, hungry and angry, looking for anything that might soothe either urge.
“I am not nothing!” Naevia cried, and the horse reared back.
The other man sighed, and she could see that he was tired, weary of war and fighting. “I have a wife and child of my own. My only wish is to return to them. Be on your way.”
Naevia paused, feeling it too easy. But neither could she stand there forever. With a deep breath, she pushed the horse forward, allowing one glance over her shoulder as she broke away. She saw the man in her distance, the Roman soldier who let her live. The Roman soldier who only longed to return to his family.
But she spared no more will to live, for anyone other than Galiena.
*
It was weeks on the road, in the forests, when Naevia saw that which would not have announced itself to anyone else. Traps, designed by German hands, and meant for Romans.
She had found them.
Carefully avoiding the snares and pits, Naevia picked her way around the traps and trees, following their trail. The more heavily guarded it became, she knew she was all the closer. Still, she tightened her hand on her knife, and as she always did when Naevia held her tighter, Galiena quieted down to only breathing.
She heard a twig snap behind her and she whirled, the horse so attuned to her every movement now. He was just as much a part of their guard at this point.
“Naevia?”
Nasir. At his voice, Naevia felt herself deflate, and then he was rushing forward, and she could see Agron for a second, but then she only saw the trees, as she fell from the saddle, Agron and Nasir catching her and Galiena before they could hit the ground.
*
They were taken back to Spartacus’s camp, which was prospering and lively, but Naevia heard it all as though from very far away, as Nasir carried her through. Agron had tried to take Galiena from her arms, but Naevia would not let her go. They were given furs to lie upon, water and food brought to them, and after she had rested for a while, Spartacus and Gannicus came to them.
“You come alone?” Spartacus asked.
Naevia’s voice was very quiet, and she did not look at him. “I am all who is left.”
Days later, when Naevia had regained some of her strength, Spartacus showed her the extent of the fortune of the northern troops. They had a pit, swarming with Romans. Defeated soldiers. Spartacus raised his hands and announced his mercy. For the each of one hundred lives lost to Lucius Gellius Publicola at Mount Garganus, he would take one Roman. They had the honor of sacrifice ad gladium in the name of Crixus, free man of Gaul, the Macedonian Donar, and all others who gave the gift of blood.
“Spartacus,” Nasir breathed, his eyes wide with horror.
“No,” Naevia said, and Spartacus paused, before giving his command to begin.
“You object, Naevia?”
“Yes,” she answered and finally looked up. “I object to Nasir. Kill them all.”
*
Naevia stayed with Spartacus. She did not rejoin the battlefield, but stayed to tend the wounded, and ease the pain of the dying. She saw Lugo to ground, and Saxa. The German woman had watched her with Galiena, eyes soft for the first time that Naevia could remember seeing. “She lives,” she breathed before her light went out.
She went back to listening. She visited with Diona and Pietros in her dreams, and saw Oenomaus and Melitta, together and happy. And Crixus. Every night, Crixus, every day, his words in her ear. We promised her. Stay alive.
The war was never-ending. Every day, Naevia closed the eyes of another who would never awaken, and still they came. There can be none left to die, Naevia thought to herself, and still they came. Some even lived to drag up their sword once more, shuffling back to battle.
Galiena slept, strapped to her back through Naevia’s long days, and without her daughter, Naevia would not have been able to distinguish from one day to another. But Galiena was ever-changing, growing strong and beautiful and with the passing of time, Naevia found herself desperately missing Crixus.
You left me.
We promised her.
One day, as Naevia turned to tend to the next injured, she stood clutching her hand to her heart. The man had Pietros’s face, if aged and scarred. “Apologies,” Naevia said shakily, kneeling down closer to him, but as she did, the man’s eyes grew wide and he reached out.
“DESTA.”
Naevia.
She gasped and Galiena stirred against her back. The man had spoken her mother’s name, and she heard her voice, not in fear for once, but with a wild, fierce joy that Naevia could not place. And then she saw the burn on the man’s arm.
“You were once at the house of Batiatus.”
The man blinked. She could see her brother so clearly in his face, and her heartbeat quickened. “I was the champion. I was sold for my woman.” His voice was strangled and Naevia did not know if it was from battle or thinking of his lost love. “Please did you know of a woman named Desta? You...you have her look, it is as if I see her again...”
Naevia took a deep breath. “She was my mother.”
*
Loukianos was the man’s name, and he fell to his knees and wept when Naevia revealed the connection. He listened with quiet grief while she told him of his son’s fate and what happened to his woman, her mother. “I was sold for my master’s wicked jealousy, and she faced the same,” he had said and put his face in his hands and sobbed.
Loukianos had been sold to Sicilia, thinking he would die all too soon but he did well and his new master saw him promoted to Doctore.
He was never long from Naevia’s side, protecting her with an urgency she had never seen or felt before. And one day when she felt the familiar rumblings on the ground, this time knowing what it meant, Loukianos was by her immediately. “It is time,” was all he said, and Naevia felt the old familiar fear, clutching and choking her. She unhooked Galiena from her back and swung her around to hold her in her arms. They had heard for weeks that Romans were marching to Senerchia, and their troops were dwindling, running on less food, less supplies, less of everything. They survived on the will to live, and to die in freedom.
Naevia. We promised her.
She would not. She stayed alive. She had always stayed alive, she would not see her daughter to ground.
Loukianos took her by the arm, running behind her and hurrying her along. Galiena fussed in her arms - it was close to the time where she would need to eat, but Naevia jostled her as gently as she could. “Hush, little one, please do not cry out.” And her brave, free girl stopped immediately. She knew.
Spartacus did not hold anyone to any oath of battle. Freedom, and all that entailed, belonged to each their own. Still, Naevia could not help but look back as the final battle began, one last call to arms, one last time to tell Rome that they were not owned, they were people, and lived by their own path.
But for Naevia, there was no glorious death, no reunion with Crixus - there was Galiena, her free girl and staying alive.
*
Those who had scattered from the battle desperately sought each other in the weeks that followed, heard the terrible tales of six thousand crosses from Rome to Capua, but Loukianos pushed Naevia south, forcing her to eat, sleep and feed Galiena. They kept from roads, from any sign of soldiers, moving west if they heard noise from the east, and back the other way again. Naevia only saw one foot in front of the other, only saw life, for herself and her daughter, and as a selfish afterthought, for the father she had never known. She did not speak to her ghosts, and did not feel them with her as she had before. They were lost, at the end of the world, and there was nothing else.
One day, in the distance, Naevia woke to hear the sea, and she was a girl in Capua again, a little slave girl clutching Diona’s hand and sneaking smiles to Pietros on the ludus sand. “Where do we go?”
“I know of a port where we can buy passage to Sicilia,” Louikianos answered. “It is far enough for us, and I know the country. You will have a life there, we will...”
Naevia could not begin to express her gratitude for all that he had done for her and allowed herself to fall into his arms for the first time, while he held her, if a bit stiffly and ran his large, rough fingers over Galiena’s hair, thicker and curlier and growing out a bit now. She was becoming more of a little girl than a babe, and she would never know her father, just as Naevia had not. But there was this chance for them with Loukianos.
“You would not make your own way?” She asked, breathing deep to stay her tears.
He shook his head. “For years, all I dreamed of was your mother. I did not know what Batiatus would do to her, the child she carried...children she carried. She led me back to you, I know it in my bones.” He was quiet for a moment. “Does she ever...speak to you?”
Naevia stilled. She had never known of anyone else who heard the voices as she did, no one who spoke of it anyway. He smiled then, taking her silence as affirmation.
“Not until I was taken from her,” Loukianos said, and though he still smiled, it was more sadly. “I think it was her last gift to me.”
*
The ship that they set sail upon was outfitted with thieves, cutthroats, and Naevia could not quite be sure, but she thought she saw familiar faces, maybe others that they had fought alongside. Nobody asked any questions. It was safer that way. Even so, she kept close to Loukianos, and never took her eyes off her daughter.
They were brought into Sicilia at night, under the cover of darkness and away from Roman eyes, and Naevia did not breathe until Loukianos spirited them into the shadows. Sicilia was the loveliest place Naevia had ever seen, and thought of her father alone here for all of his life, trapped in this paradise. They watched Galiena take her first shaky steps and Naevia cried, thinking of Crixus and very quietly, she heard his words. You are my heartbeat now.
*
Naevia could make things grow. Loukianos found a place for them to live, live freely, and she made things grow. Tomatoes and olives and figs near their house, and Loukianos caught fish in the sea, his spear as sure as it ever had been on the sands. Galiena learned to walk and then run, and then swim and sometimes disobeyed her mother, running to her grandfather for solidarity, and they both just marveled at the child’s ability to say no.
Four summers passed, and one day, Naevia could see two men walking on the path that led to their house, and she froze in fear, immediately listening for Galiena. But there was something familiar about both of them, and as they came into clearer focus, she could see the massive size of one, the long dark hair of the other, and the way the two men stayed so protectively close to one another.
Tonight, you can sleep.
She ran down the path, Galiena toddling after her, and Nasir’s eyes were as if he’d seen a ghost until she threw herself into his arms. Galiena stayed back, shy for once, as she had no recollection of anyone in her life other than her mother and grandfather. That night, as they feasted together, Agron told them of the last days of battle, and how Spartacus would not let him throw away the life he could have with Nasir for certain death. His eyes were haunted when he spoke the man’s name, and Naevia could hear Spartacus’s voice. There is always a choice. Agron had been the first to pick up sword and follow him into freedom, and she knew he would have followed him anywhere if it had not been for Nasir.
They stayed. First just for a night, and then a few more, and then a half decade had passed. There was never any shortage of work that needed to be done, and Galiena made them all smile. One night, as Agron was finishing a story of the old forests in Germania, Galiena touched her fingers to his mark of the brotherhood, still deeply scarred after all these years, and across the room to her grandfather, who bore the same. “Will I have a mark when I am older? Or will mine be a colored picture, like Mother and Nasir?”
“No, little flower, none shall ever mark your skin,” he said gently, exchanging a look with Naevia who listened quietly and pulled her daughter in close, kissing the top of her dark curls. Galiena was already starting to fall asleep when she heard his voice in her ear. We promised her; safe, loved, free. You are my heartbeat. And her head went din with the other voices, tender and loving.
You live for all of us now.
“Yes,” Naevia said out loud. And for me.
<<<333
Rating: r
Word Count: 5,825 (4/4)
Summary: Come away, little lass, come away to the water. Away from the light you always knew. We are calling to you...Naevia was born, and then lived her whole life.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Notes: Oh, this has been a labor of love. And I would be remiss in not thanking quite a few people. First of all, this all began to really form after a conversation with selonbrody where we both thought that Pietros and Naevia had been brother and sister during the first few episodes of Blood And Sand, and I swear, I only meant to write a prequel. lexiesloan took a look at this and offered such wonderful encouragement. And abvj has been invaluable, with hand-holding, suggestion and support. You will notice key lines of dialogue from the show, and my own tweak on certain scenes, and it is all a respectful homage to Stephen DeKnight and his writing team. And of course, a very special thanks to kymericl, who did the lovely artwork (link in master post).
part i
part ii
part iii
The season passed quietly. They built a fortified shelter into the mountains, and the Germans knew much about hunting and finding food in the cold weather. Spartacus, Crixus, Agron and Gannicus put their talents towards recruits. They liberated more ships (Germans, Gauls, Carthaginians, Syrians -- it no longer mattered where these people came from, so long as they were enemies of Rome), raided villas and even overtook the mines. Spartacus had built an army, and all were thirsty for Roman blood.
Naevia fought at Crixus’s side many times after removing Ashur’s head, and he began to trust her more on the battlefield. She even saved his life a time or two. But Naevia’s true talent, they all learned, was bringing together the new recruits and quietly settling the differences between those who could not understand one another through words. She seemed to pick up all the languages with the greatest of ease, and it gave her a position of respect among Spartacus’s most trusted advisors. But it was no surprise to her -- listening had been her only weapon for most of her life, and she was a master at it.
Even so, they were safe for most of that bitterly cold autumn. When Crixus had to be away from her, Nasir would stay close. If he knew her secret, he did not let on. Even so, all too soon, everybody would know and Naevia feared what would happen when she could no longer conceal herself under Crixus’s cloak. She already tired much sooner than she used to, much sooner than Saxa and the other women did, and she did not want to be left behind.
She had even been afraid to tell Crixus at first. This was no life for a babe, not yet, even if the Romans had let them be for a bit, they would be back when the thaws came.
Crixus had fallen to his knees before her, pressing his face against her still-flat belly, giving gratitude for all of their blessings. At night, in the dark of their own little world where there was no one else, he laid his big hands over her stomach covering their child and whispering words of promise in its mother’s ear -- you will be safe, you will be loved, you are my whole world.
You will be free, Naevia would add.
It was Saxa who forced them to speak the truth when Naevia fell from her horse after a long day of hunting and gathering. She curled protectively in on herself and Crixus had run to her side, wild with fear. It called the attention of all their party. “She will be more than fine,” Agron said evenly.
“He worries for his child,” Saxa spoke up, and Naevia gasped, covering herself.
After a moment, Spartacus reached out a hand to help them from the ground and congratulated Crixus on his blessings. Nasir smiled at her, and she knew that he too had known all along, and she loved her dear friend fiercely in that moment. Spartacus broke a barrel of wine that night in celebration and in a quiet moment, Naevia found herself alone with Saxa. “This is not a burden you want,” she said. Her speech was still halted in the common tongue.
Naevia instinctively covered herself again, drawing Crixus’s cloak tightly closed around her. “Not a burden.”
“Not today,” Saxa said, her eyes dark with an anger that Naevia could not define. “But when the Romans return? What then?”
It was a fear that had been ever-present but easy to forget when she saw the joy in Crixus’s eyes, felt the life inside her, filling her heart and giving her strength. A child. A free child. For what else had she stayed alive, for what else had she fought?
But the German woman was still staring at her coldly, her eyes dropping to Naevia’s stomach. “When the Romans return, what do you think happens to babies?”
“You do not know what the future holds,” Naevia said. “Maybe it will not-”
“It will,” Saxa spat, and Naevia froze in horror, suddenly understanding her with complete certainty. And the image she had been fighting against, of her mother walking away from her, toe to heel, flashed to the forefront of her mind.
“Saxa, what happened to your child?” Naevia asked softly, but she did not answer. She pointed to Naevia’s belly.
“You are not safe. You should leave with the Gallia man.”
Left alone by the fireside, Naevia ran her hands over her swollen abdomen. “Stay alive,” she whispered, terrified, and had the ghost of a child’s laughter in answer.
*
As her belly grew, Naevia’s dreams began to show memories of her past mixed with images that she could not believe, could not give into the fear of them. The sea by the ludus in Capua and mountains red with blood and fire. Diona and Pietros, laughing together as they ran through grassy meadows that they had never known as children, and when Naevia awoke, she could smell lamiaceae, and she pressed her face into Crixus’s side, trying to catch her breath. What was past and what was future and what was real?
One night, when Crixus came to their fireside and gently nudged her awake, Naevia knew, without a word spoken by him, that they would be leaving. “When?”
“In two days time,” he answered and she could see his uncertainty for the future. “We will go south with a quarter of the troops, and I will transfer command to Donar. Spartacus trusts him, as do I. He will make a fine leader.”
“Is this what you want?” Naevia asked, laying her palm on his cheek.
“I long for peace for you and our child,” he said, closing his hand over the curve of her belly. They were quiet for a moment, and Naevia remembered the gladiator so far in the past, who only longed for a glorious death. “It is only that I worry to travel such a vast distance, so close to your time. Do you feel you are strong enough?”
Naevia took a deep breath and smiled. “I would follow you anywhere. And it will certainly not be my most difficult journey. With you by my side, I have no fears.”
*
It was more difficult than she thought, saying goodbye to Nasir and the others. She had never left anyone before, it had always been those that she loved who were taken from her. Spartacus sent them off in a grand fashion with a quarter of his cavalry, and Donar’s pledge that they would find them back at Vesuvius in six months’ time, once they had dealt with Publicola, the latest shit sent from Rome to be defeated by the mighty rebel army.
In six months’ time, she and Crixus would have been disappeared from their world, if all was well.
She sat on Crixus’s horse at the head of the legion, a great honor. Crixus would take one final march as their commander, with her at his side. Gannicus had given her one of the small icons that belonged to Melitta, and Naevia remembered seeing it as a girl when she had used in prayer -- mementos from her own mother, who had been taken to captivity before Melitta had been born. She did not know if she was more touched that he had kept it or that he relinquished it to her now.
“Let it be known, that you are held in the highest honor,” Spartacus said solemnly. “And that you will not be forgotten.”
Naevia’s eyes met Nasir’s. He had saved her life in every way and there were no words of gratitude that would ever be enough. “Perhaps when this war is over, we will meet again,” she had said, when they had a private moment earlier.
He smiled kindly and wrapped her in his arms. “The next place we will meet again is the afterlife.” What he did not say, but what she understood in that moment was that this war would never truly be over.
Would they ever truly be free?
Saxa had come forward, just as they were nearly ready to set off, her eyes on Naevia’s belly which had rounded past the point of any concealment. “Stay alive,” she said, void of any emotion.
Naevia sucked in her breath. “The same to you.”
*
When the birthing pains began, they had been on the march for a week, and Naevia thought she could travel further, but Crixus made her stop. He looked more afraid than she had ever seen him. She was frightened too -- she had not expected the pain to be so overpowering.
Their great army passed them by slowly and Crixus found shelter for her just off the path. He had told Donar to ride ahead and assume command while he tried to find a woman among the ranks who would know what needed to be done. And by the time he returned with a Numidian priestess, Naevia had the babe in her arms and tears of joy in her eyes.
“You were all alone?” Crixus dove for her in fear, but Naevia could only smile. She had not been alone. She had seen her mother’s face and she was happy. You are my heartbeat.
With the slightest twinge of fear, Naevia placed the dark-skinned child in Crixus’s arms and he gazed reverently at his child. “A girl?”
“Yes,” Naevia said quietly. She wondered briefly if he was disappointed, but he touched his lips to his beautiful daughter’s face, skimming his lips over the baby-fine black curls on the top of her head. “She is perfect.”
Naevia leaned up to gaze at the child, and then kissed her man. She drew back, looking him in the eye. “Her name is Galiena.”
He looked at her with surprise, but she nodded before she spoke again. “She is a girl of Gaul, and her father is the greatest of his kind. And she will always be free.”
Crixus opened his mouth but was too overcome to speak for a moment. He nodded, tears filling his eyes and pulled Naevia to him, holding his family in his arms. “Always.”
*
They came at dawn.
When Naevia woke up in Crixus’s arms, Galiena cradled between them, the ground was gently rumbling below and her first thoughts were back to the cart, and porridge and Trebbius, but then she saw Crixus’s face relaxed in sleep and could smell the sweet, clean scent of their three-month-old daughter, and she felt safe. But then the rumbling grew louder, and Crixus awoke with a start. Galiena, too, started crying, moving her arms and trying to find her mother’s breast.
“Horses,” he said, and jerked Naevia to her feet with one hand and scooped up the baby with the other. Naevia’s heart stopped when she saw them all on the horizon -- hundreds of thousands of soldiers, so many that she could see nothing else, nothing beyond the oncoming horde.
“Fuck all, they’ve sent the entire world down upon us!” Donar pulled up next to them on his enormous black stallion. “Crixus, none would place blame on you for taking your woman and your child and getting the fuck out of here.”
Crixus hesitated not for a moment. “I would be no good to you, brother.” His grip tightened around Naevia and she let out a sharp exhale. Not him, do not take him, not him!
Donar paused for a second and then swung down from the horse, tossing the ropes to Crixus. “Ride hard, brother, and outlive us all to tell our tale.”
“Gratitude,” Crixus said, quickly throwing Naevia up on the horse’s back.
She looked down at Donar. “Stay alive,” she sobbed out loud and it was a prayer for all of them, but he just laughed, throwing his head back to the heavens.
“A glorious death is my fate, as is to any gladiator worth his own scars.” And he whipped his battle axe off his back and with a great war cry, ran headlong and without
hesitation into his fate.
Crixus rode hard around the other side of the mountain, trying to find a path of escape. It seemed they were completely surrounded. Naevia clutched on to his back and tried to keep Galiena from jostling too much.
“There,” Crixus pointed off in the distance to a dark forest. He was breathing very hard. “If we can make it there, we will hide in the shelter of the trees.”
“If?” Naevia repeated, but he spurred the horse on, and as Naevia looked behind her, she only saw the red of the Roman army sweeping towards their friends, their friends who would have followed Crixus anywhere. If only we could take you all with us.
Naevia looked down at her child, and the baby had gone still, silent and Naevia nearly cried out, but she saw that she was still breathing. It seemed their girl of Gaul had been born into war, and knew her part to help her parents fight.
Down the mountainside, and just across a vast open field, and they would be hidden in the forest. Crixus paused for a second. Nobody had followed them, but it was such a long way in the open, over a mile to the other side. They would have no protection.
He eased the horse forward, gradually picking up speed, and Naevia listened carefully. Listening, always her most reliable weapon. And there it was -- more than just four feet hitting the ground. She turned behind her, and finally cried out.
There was a pack, twenty or so soldiers on foot, running for them. None are to escape, Naevia thought. They will kill us all. She looked down to Galiena, still silent but alert. No, you must stay safe, you must stay alive.
“Naevia,” Crixus had turned around, his mouth set in a hard line. “Ride on. I will find you in the forest.”
Naevia saw the soldiers gaining on them. “No, there are too many, you cannot take them all!” He was not looking at her. She grabbed for his face, and screamed. No! He did not mean to find them at all. “Crixus, no! No, you cannot leave me, not now, you cannot leave Galiena!”
His breath quickened, and he groaned out his words. “Naevia, you have been my whole world, everything-”
“No!”
But he gripped her face to his, crushing his lips against hers, desperately loving her for the briefest moment, to last forever. And when he broke away, on a wail, he cupped his hand around Galiena’s cap of soft black curls, and kissed her forehead. “You will be free, my girl of Gaul.”
“Crixus, no!” Naevia sobbed and Galiena’s voice finally rang, protesting her father leaving her. She fights. She knows that she is not nothing, that it is worth it to fight.
But he had swung down from the horse, backing away and already drawing his sword, pointing it towards his woman and then to the heavens, in honor. “It is just as Donar said, a glorious death for all gladiators.”
“You are a father,” Naevia cried. “You are mine.”
“Yes, I am,” Crixus smiled then, brilliantly beautiful in the early morning sunlight, and Naevia sucked in her breath. My man is a god. He looked down to Galiena once more and his face began to fall. “Naevia, you must fight for her. Do not fade. Stay alive.”
Stay alive.
You are my heartbeat now.
They will not part us.
You are my whole world.
Be free.
You are everything.
Stay alive.
Galiena stirred in her arms, warm and so, so alive and Naevia felt strength fill her, the strength to fight for her child.
“Naevia!” He cried, and his voice grew desperate. “We promised her; safe, loved, free. Go!”
But Naevia waited one eternal second longer, taking in the sight of him, remembering every touch and kiss and all they had lost to reach this very moment. And all they had gained. “You are my heart, and you take it with you.”
The very last words she spoke to him before she turned the horse and rode it into the forest.
Just past the trees, she turned and looked behind her, to see that the pack had just came upon him. He was magnificent in battle, as he always had been. Naevia kicked the horse forward. She could not watch him fall.
*
Naevia followed Crixus’s plan- she hid in the woods for a day and night, too far away to see anything, but she could hear the sounds of battle, the thud and crash of swords and bodies. She bit her lip against crying out, and listened to the sound of her own breath, the horse’s breath, counted Galiena’s heartbeats. She fed her daughter- Galiena was already a warrior and knew when it was time to stop and when it was time to run. Her brave, free girl.
She did not sleep, did not dare that much, but did find food and water for herself. Galiena must stay alive, and she depended on her. There was no question. Naevia had always been able to stay alive, whatever else she lost.
When all was quiet, she decided she must move. She longed to go back, to find Crixus and burn his body, as a Gaul warrior should have been, but she did not dare. And she was too afraid of what she would find.
She set out, unsure of where she would go. Spartacus, she should try to find Spartacus, and Nasir. Naevia closed her eyes against the thought of her friend, her last real friend. She knew she would be safe with Spartacus and Agron and even Saxa, but Nasir was the last. Tonight, you can sleep...so few of us left.
Too few. And she could not yet sleep.
*
She only knew to head north, and to travel a long route. Not to be seen by any eyes, and heavens, Mother, Pietros, all who watched over them, to keep this horse, by nearly any cost. She found nuts and berries on the way - Saxa and Agron had taught her how to feed herself - and she was efficient enough with her knife to get meat on occasion. Small birds mainly, but it was enough.
She had been walking the horse for days, turning left and right and crooked ways to head north, when she led around a tree to come face to face with two Roman soldiers. One of them, the larger, took on a look that Naevia knew only too well.
No. No more men.
Her arms tightened around her baby, but Galiena did not cry out, the little warrior knowing when to use her voice.
“We have a bit of luck between us,” the larger said. Naevia could see that he still had blood on him, and she wondered how far she had gone from the fighting. He started for the horse, and Naevia drew back, tightening her hand on her knife.
But then the other one spoke up, “No.” He held out a hand to stop his companion. Naevia did not release the grip on her knife. The larger had not taken his eyes off her. He moved for her again, and the other stopped him. “No. What manner of man are you, that you attack a woman with suckling babe?”
Naevia allowed herself a small breath. No matter what, they would not take her daughter from her arms. “You can have the horse. Please, just allow myself and my child to pass.”
The one who had not moved toward her looked up at her. “Keep your horse. You might need it to bargain with men of less honor.”
“She is nothing!” The other cried out, looking back at her, hungry and angry, looking for anything that might soothe either urge.
“I am not nothing!” Naevia cried, and the horse reared back.
The other man sighed, and she could see that he was tired, weary of war and fighting. “I have a wife and child of my own. My only wish is to return to them. Be on your way.”
Naevia paused, feeling it too easy. But neither could she stand there forever. With a deep breath, she pushed the horse forward, allowing one glance over her shoulder as she broke away. She saw the man in her distance, the Roman soldier who let her live. The Roman soldier who only longed to return to his family.
But she spared no more will to live, for anyone other than Galiena.
*
It was weeks on the road, in the forests, when Naevia saw that which would not have announced itself to anyone else. Traps, designed by German hands, and meant for Romans.
She had found them.
Carefully avoiding the snares and pits, Naevia picked her way around the traps and trees, following their trail. The more heavily guarded it became, she knew she was all the closer. Still, she tightened her hand on her knife, and as she always did when Naevia held her tighter, Galiena quieted down to only breathing.
She heard a twig snap behind her and she whirled, the horse so attuned to her every movement now. He was just as much a part of their guard at this point.
“Naevia?”
Nasir. At his voice, Naevia felt herself deflate, and then he was rushing forward, and she could see Agron for a second, but then she only saw the trees, as she fell from the saddle, Agron and Nasir catching her and Galiena before they could hit the ground.
*
They were taken back to Spartacus’s camp, which was prospering and lively, but Naevia heard it all as though from very far away, as Nasir carried her through. Agron had tried to take Galiena from her arms, but Naevia would not let her go. They were given furs to lie upon, water and food brought to them, and after she had rested for a while, Spartacus and Gannicus came to them.
“You come alone?” Spartacus asked.
Naevia’s voice was very quiet, and she did not look at him. “I am all who is left.”
Days later, when Naevia had regained some of her strength, Spartacus showed her the extent of the fortune of the northern troops. They had a pit, swarming with Romans. Defeated soldiers. Spartacus raised his hands and announced his mercy. For the each of one hundred lives lost to Lucius Gellius Publicola at Mount Garganus, he would take one Roman. They had the honor of sacrifice ad gladium in the name of Crixus, free man of Gaul, the Macedonian Donar, and all others who gave the gift of blood.
“Spartacus,” Nasir breathed, his eyes wide with horror.
“No,” Naevia said, and Spartacus paused, before giving his command to begin.
“You object, Naevia?”
“Yes,” she answered and finally looked up. “I object to Nasir. Kill them all.”
*
Naevia stayed with Spartacus. She did not rejoin the battlefield, but stayed to tend the wounded, and ease the pain of the dying. She saw Lugo to ground, and Saxa. The German woman had watched her with Galiena, eyes soft for the first time that Naevia could remember seeing. “She lives,” she breathed before her light went out.
She went back to listening. She visited with Diona and Pietros in her dreams, and saw Oenomaus and Melitta, together and happy. And Crixus. Every night, Crixus, every day, his words in her ear. We promised her. Stay alive.
The war was never-ending. Every day, Naevia closed the eyes of another who would never awaken, and still they came. There can be none left to die, Naevia thought to herself, and still they came. Some even lived to drag up their sword once more, shuffling back to battle.
Galiena slept, strapped to her back through Naevia’s long days, and without her daughter, Naevia would not have been able to distinguish from one day to another. But Galiena was ever-changing, growing strong and beautiful and with the passing of time, Naevia found herself desperately missing Crixus.
You left me.
We promised her.
One day, as Naevia turned to tend to the next injured, she stood clutching her hand to her heart. The man had Pietros’s face, if aged and scarred. “Apologies,” Naevia said shakily, kneeling down closer to him, but as she did, the man’s eyes grew wide and he reached out.
“DESTA.”
Naevia.
She gasped and Galiena stirred against her back. The man had spoken her mother’s name, and she heard her voice, not in fear for once, but with a wild, fierce joy that Naevia could not place. And then she saw the burn on the man’s arm.
“You were once at the house of Batiatus.”
The man blinked. She could see her brother so clearly in his face, and her heartbeat quickened. “I was the champion. I was sold for my woman.” His voice was strangled and Naevia did not know if it was from battle or thinking of his lost love. “Please did you know of a woman named Desta? You...you have her look, it is as if I see her again...”
Naevia took a deep breath. “She was my mother.”
*
Loukianos was the man’s name, and he fell to his knees and wept when Naevia revealed the connection. He listened with quiet grief while she told him of his son’s fate and what happened to his woman, her mother. “I was sold for my master’s wicked jealousy, and she faced the same,” he had said and put his face in his hands and sobbed.
Loukianos had been sold to Sicilia, thinking he would die all too soon but he did well and his new master saw him promoted to Doctore.
He was never long from Naevia’s side, protecting her with an urgency she had never seen or felt before. And one day when she felt the familiar rumblings on the ground, this time knowing what it meant, Loukianos was by her immediately. “It is time,” was all he said, and Naevia felt the old familiar fear, clutching and choking her. She unhooked Galiena from her back and swung her around to hold her in her arms. They had heard for weeks that Romans were marching to Senerchia, and their troops were dwindling, running on less food, less supplies, less of everything. They survived on the will to live, and to die in freedom.
Naevia. We promised her.
She would not. She stayed alive. She had always stayed alive, she would not see her daughter to ground.
Loukianos took her by the arm, running behind her and hurrying her along. Galiena fussed in her arms - it was close to the time where she would need to eat, but Naevia jostled her as gently as she could. “Hush, little one, please do not cry out.” And her brave, free girl stopped immediately. She knew.
Spartacus did not hold anyone to any oath of battle. Freedom, and all that entailed, belonged to each their own. Still, Naevia could not help but look back as the final battle began, one last call to arms, one last time to tell Rome that they were not owned, they were people, and lived by their own path.
But for Naevia, there was no glorious death, no reunion with Crixus - there was Galiena, her free girl and staying alive.
*
Those who had scattered from the battle desperately sought each other in the weeks that followed, heard the terrible tales of six thousand crosses from Rome to Capua, but Loukianos pushed Naevia south, forcing her to eat, sleep and feed Galiena. They kept from roads, from any sign of soldiers, moving west if they heard noise from the east, and back the other way again. Naevia only saw one foot in front of the other, only saw life, for herself and her daughter, and as a selfish afterthought, for the father she had never known. She did not speak to her ghosts, and did not feel them with her as she had before. They were lost, at the end of the world, and there was nothing else.
One day, in the distance, Naevia woke to hear the sea, and she was a girl in Capua again, a little slave girl clutching Diona’s hand and sneaking smiles to Pietros on the ludus sand. “Where do we go?”
“I know of a port where we can buy passage to Sicilia,” Louikianos answered. “It is far enough for us, and I know the country. You will have a life there, we will...”
Naevia could not begin to express her gratitude for all that he had done for her and allowed herself to fall into his arms for the first time, while he held her, if a bit stiffly and ran his large, rough fingers over Galiena’s hair, thicker and curlier and growing out a bit now. She was becoming more of a little girl than a babe, and she would never know her father, just as Naevia had not. But there was this chance for them with Loukianos.
“You would not make your own way?” She asked, breathing deep to stay her tears.
He shook his head. “For years, all I dreamed of was your mother. I did not know what Batiatus would do to her, the child she carried...children she carried. She led me back to you, I know it in my bones.” He was quiet for a moment. “Does she ever...speak to you?”
Naevia stilled. She had never known of anyone else who heard the voices as she did, no one who spoke of it anyway. He smiled then, taking her silence as affirmation.
“Not until I was taken from her,” Loukianos said, and though he still smiled, it was more sadly. “I think it was her last gift to me.”
*
The ship that they set sail upon was outfitted with thieves, cutthroats, and Naevia could not quite be sure, but she thought she saw familiar faces, maybe others that they had fought alongside. Nobody asked any questions. It was safer that way. Even so, she kept close to Loukianos, and never took her eyes off her daughter.
They were brought into Sicilia at night, under the cover of darkness and away from Roman eyes, and Naevia did not breathe until Loukianos spirited them into the shadows. Sicilia was the loveliest place Naevia had ever seen, and thought of her father alone here for all of his life, trapped in this paradise. They watched Galiena take her first shaky steps and Naevia cried, thinking of Crixus and very quietly, she heard his words. You are my heartbeat now.
*
Naevia could make things grow. Loukianos found a place for them to live, live freely, and she made things grow. Tomatoes and olives and figs near their house, and Loukianos caught fish in the sea, his spear as sure as it ever had been on the sands. Galiena learned to walk and then run, and then swim and sometimes disobeyed her mother, running to her grandfather for solidarity, and they both just marveled at the child’s ability to say no.
Four summers passed, and one day, Naevia could see two men walking on the path that led to their house, and she froze in fear, immediately listening for Galiena. But there was something familiar about both of them, and as they came into clearer focus, she could see the massive size of one, the long dark hair of the other, and the way the two men stayed so protectively close to one another.
Tonight, you can sleep.
She ran down the path, Galiena toddling after her, and Nasir’s eyes were as if he’d seen a ghost until she threw herself into his arms. Galiena stayed back, shy for once, as she had no recollection of anyone in her life other than her mother and grandfather. That night, as they feasted together, Agron told them of the last days of battle, and how Spartacus would not let him throw away the life he could have with Nasir for certain death. His eyes were haunted when he spoke the man’s name, and Naevia could hear Spartacus’s voice. There is always a choice. Agron had been the first to pick up sword and follow him into freedom, and she knew he would have followed him anywhere if it had not been for Nasir.
They stayed. First just for a night, and then a few more, and then a half decade had passed. There was never any shortage of work that needed to be done, and Galiena made them all smile. One night, as Agron was finishing a story of the old forests in Germania, Galiena touched her fingers to his mark of the brotherhood, still deeply scarred after all these years, and across the room to her grandfather, who bore the same. “Will I have a mark when I am older? Or will mine be a colored picture, like Mother and Nasir?”
“No, little flower, none shall ever mark your skin,” he said gently, exchanging a look with Naevia who listened quietly and pulled her daughter in close, kissing the top of her dark curls. Galiena was already starting to fall asleep when she heard his voice in her ear. We promised her; safe, loved, free. You are my heartbeat. And her head went din with the other voices, tender and loving.
You live for all of us now.
“Yes,” Naevia said out loud. And for me.
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