Fic: The Worth of a Man; Spartacus, Nasir/Agron
Just sort of a dabble - more than a drabble, less than a full story, testing my Spartacus wings. The interesting thing about Spartacus is that despite the over the top blood, gore, and sex, it's really all about love. And because of the way it's written - literally written - it allows me to throw in all the flowery, romantic prose I want ;).
Spoilers, of course.
05/10/12 - edited to rearrange some plot points I'd gotten out of order. gratitude :).
The Worth of a Man
Chadara's body was gone, borne away by knowing hands. Her spilt blood had been mixed with mud and scraped aside, the place already obliterated by boots, sandals, bare feet.
It was as though she'd never been.
Gannicus was also gone and the feel of the camp had changed. Nasir watched the gladiators fall back to their training, faces grim, spirits worn down by the rejection from one they viewed as their own. Spartacus had called for words with those from whom he took counsel, and the rest of the camp turned to whatever tasks beckoned.
Nasir was alone.
The entry to the temple called to him. Spartacus spoke of freedom, a word still tart on Nasir's tongue. Had freedom been gained when collar was ripped from throat? Or at the death of his dominus? Or when Nasir had made choice to aid in the search for Naevia, even though his heart longed to remain close to one who looked on him with such contempt for that very choice?
Or was freedom to be found outside the walls of the temple, far enough away that the burn of rough voices, the rush of sour wind, the choking dust all faded to nothing?
Nasir's feet bore him forward until he stood outside the wall, breathing in cool, untainted air. There was more rain on the breeze, meaning that all inside the temple would need to find shelter beneath its roof this night, too many bodies in a place built for far less. Privacy was a luxury at the best of times; if the weather continued to disfavour them, there would be no quiet words with Agron, no place to rest where they would be away from prying eyes.
Finding a small embrasure in the temple wall, Nasir tucked himself inside, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees to his chest, one hand pressed to his wound to ease the strain. He felt bruised from the loss of Chadara, unable to condemn her for not fitting into the world she found herself in yet angry with her for not trusting those who had sacrificed so much. She was the last, true link to a world that Nasir left behind the day he took up sword to save the life of Spartacus.
His fingers fell again to the cloth that protected the still-healing wound he'd received in the woods, an injury gladly taken in defence of another. It was all so new to him, this belief that his life was worth no more yet no less than the man or woman beside him, no matter their status. Yes, Spartacus spoke of freedom, yet he did not speak of equality, and Nasir, who once knew his place in the world, now found himself wondering where he belonged. Here, in this broken temple to foreign gods, there was a hierarchy to things, a separation between gladiators and house slaves, even those house slaves such as himself who trained in the sand of the courtyard. Yet Nasir had much knowledge of household issues and shared that knowledge so that all could partake equally in what few supplies they possessed. He straddled two worlds and mastered neither, adapting to the needs of many while wondering if the light to be found only in Agron's eyes would eventually shine toward someone else.
Nasir bowed his head and shifted his hips, wincing when his wound protested. He felt a spurt of fresh, warm blood against his skin and he sighed, anticipating the scolding awaiting him once Naevia caught sight of the stained cloth. That combined with the freshening wind convinced him to seek shelter inside once more, his aim to have wound tended before Agron found cause to scold him as well.
Rising to his feet, bracing his hands on the temple's rough walls, he did not hear the approach of another until a shadow crossed his eyes. He looked up to see Trassus standing near, blocking the path back to the temple entrance.
Nasir had no reason to fear this gladiator and greeted him with a smile. "You seek a moment away from your brothers," he said. "I shall leave you to your privacy, as many tasks await me."
Trassus did not move. He was one of Crixus' men who'd chosen Vesuvius over the mines, a quiet Gaul who preferred to stay in the shadows and observe, unlike the balance of his kin. "It is not privacy I seek, but your company."
Nasir frowned. He and Trassus had exchanged no words of value since the rebels had taken the home of Nasir's dominus, so he could think of no cause for the gladiator's request now. He searched his memory for a blunder committed on the training field, a foot trod upon in error, a clumsy cut of a sword. He could think of none.
"Apologies," he stammered, "have I offended?"
Trassus stepped closer, his fingers fretting the leather threads dangling from his subligaria. "You belong to that fuck Agron. I would make better offer."
Swallowing hard, Nasir glanced away. The gladiators were unpredictable, he did not know their ways. But he did recognize lust when he saw it, and some inner wisdom advised him to handle the situation with care. Trassus was of larger stature than Agron, and though not as skilled with the sword, he was a trained warrior, no doubt accustomed to taking what he wanted.
"I belong to no one." Nasir kept his voice calm, his demeanour pleasant. "Save offer for one who seeks it."
With a quick nod, he moved to step around Trassus, only to find his way barred by the gladiator's arm.
"Mistake not my desire," Trassus hissed. He turned his head and looked down into Nasir's eyes, and Nasir recoiled at the darkness he saw there. He could feel the situation shifting, a scent of menace tainting the wind. "There are no others in this shit hole that interest me. Agron places the will of Spartacus above all else. I do not make that mistake."
"Spartacus values his counsel, they seek ways to keep us all free."
"Yet Agron leaves your bed empty in favour of words." Trassus twisted his arm, curving his fingers around Nasir's wrist and squeezing. "Were you mine, you would never rise from your knees."
Nasir did not bother to test Trassus' grip upon him--he knew it would be of no use. The unbreakable clasp recalled a life left behind, a life of being used as a thing to be passed around for the amusement and abuse of others. It was a life he no longer claimed as his own, yet Trassus' larger size and malevolent intent had him at a disadvantage that appeasing words would not make equal.
Keeping still, he offered Trassus a smile devoid of warmth, lest he be misunderstood. "Gratitude, but I do not seek another."
With a powerful flex of his arm, Trassus brought Nasir up against his chest, his other hand sinking into the hair at the base of Nasir's neck and tugging hard.
"Agron is consumed with vengeance for loss of a brother. Do not think there is room in his heart for a pretty house slave who follows him like stray dog." Trassus turned his head and spat, then dragged Nasir closer until Nasir could feel his foul, hot breath upon his cheek. "And when thirst for vengeance makes him careless, he will die. Crawl to me then, and see if my favour falls upon you still."
The tightening of the rough hands upon him gave Nasir warning that Trassus would yet press advantage with Agron otherwise occupied. Panic slid through Nasir's veins as Trassus used his body to shift them toward the break in the temple wall, his mind racing to find a path that would see him safely away. Salvation came to him in the voice of Spartacus, ringing in his head.
"You have not size," Spartacus reached down to help Nasir to his feet after another gentle blow had felled him, "you must use other weapons."
"I can yet barely lift sword," Nasir panted, "what would you have me use?"
"Others may see you as weak, use that to advantage. Strike when attack is not expected. Employ feet,
hands, anything you find. Let foe make mistake, and use it against him."
There was no time to think, only act. Acknowledging he could not overpower Trassus--and knowing that disabling him in any meaningful way threatened them all, since his sword was needed for defence--Nasir struck out with his foot, curling it behind Trassus' ankle and pulling it back with a twist of his body as he dug his elbow into the hard centre of Trassus' gut, his other hand scraping into the skin of Trassus' exposed neck. Trassus went over with a surprised grunt, gripping his throat as he fought to regain balance before he landed on his back, arms flailing as curses of an unknown tongue flew from his mouth.
As soon as Nasir found himself free of Trassus' weakened grip, he scrambled away toward the temple entrance, unsure how to proceed as he watched the giant man flounder in the dirt. He chose not run away like a wounded animal, but to see the misunderstanding resolved to avoid future conflict. Absently placing his palm against his own wound, he took a deep breath as Trassus struggled to his feet.
"I give no apologies, nor ask for any," Nasir said quickly, "but would seek instead--"
"Nasir!"
Whirling, Nasir saw Agron standing at the entry to the temple, the bright smile on his face fading as his gaze passed over Nasir, taking in his dishevelled appearance and shortness of breath. From there his gaze flew to Trassus, who had regained footing and was swiping at the ribbons of blood Nasir's fingernails had left upon his neck.
Nasir held his arms out from his sides. "Agron, I--"
Agron was already on the move, the flames in his eyes revealing to Nasir his interpretation of the scene before him. Although Agron was not far wrong, Nasir sought to cool that fire, grabbing Agron's arm as he lunged toward Trassus and swinging him around until they faced each other.
"Agron! Do not--it is not as you think!"
When Agron would have swept Nasir aside, Nasir placed his hand on Agron's chest, then recoiled when he saw that he'd smeared the blood from his own wound on Agron's skin. Agron's eyes went wide and wild as he stared at Nasir, his jaw set in stone as he placed his hands on Nasir's shoulders.
"Speak fast and true," Agron's voice was low and ragged, "before I rip out the heart of that fucking Gaul and feed it to him for putting fucking hand upon you."
Nasir glanced at Trassus, who was leaning against the wall of the temple, watching the two men with malice and something else in his eyes.
"A misunderstanding only," Nasir said urgently, "one resolved between us."
"I would know the source of such misunderstanding," Agron growled, "that is resolved with the shedding of precious blood."
Nasir bit his lip. He would not lie, nor would he risk harm coming to Agron should Trassus choose to make his darkest intentions toward Nasir known and thus escalate the situation.
"Trassus offered a place in his bed should you fall," Nasir said, then shoved Agron back when he lunged again toward Trassus. "I reacted as a free man, not as a slave, and lashed out unthinkingly." He glanced over his shoulder at Trassus. "He will not make offer again."
"What of the blood that even now stains your clothing?" Agron grabbed Nasir's wrist, turning his palm upward. "And covers your hands?"
"Caused only by my own clumsiness." He pulled his wrist from Agron's grip and pressed his fingers to the fabric wrapped around his belly. He tried not to wince, as the skin beneath the cloth was now warm and tender to the touch. "I will seek out Naevia to have wound tended."
Argon stood with shoulders squared, his chin lifted and nostrils flaring as he looked from Nasir to Trassus and back again.
"I shall see to injury myself." Agron spoke stiffly, as if with great effort.
Though his heart warmed to the offer, Nasir shook his head. "You are needed elsewhere. Surely Spartacus--"
"Can fucking wait."
***
"You tend me with hands clever as a woman's," Nasir murmured, "yet anger still lingers in your touch."
Agron paused in his inspection of Nasir's injury but did not raise gaze from task. "That is not my intent," he said on a sigh. Reaching for salve to coat the ragged edges of recently parted skin, he shook his head. "The leashing of anger is a gift yet to be granted me by the gods."
Nasir smiled, a small thing yet sincere, then gasped and flinched as blunt, probing fingers pressed too hard. Agron looked up, his expression stricken, and suddenly there was not enough air for Nasir to draw breath. Agron's heart was in his eyes, their colour dimmed and mouth downturned with fear that he'd hurt Nasir. To have power over a man such as Agron--how could Nasir prove worthy of this gift?
Tentatively, Nasir lifted his hand to Agron's face, brushing his fingertips across his cheek before sliding them into the hair at Agron's nape. The fear in Agron's eyes faded, but the concern they held did not.
"Finish your task," Nasir leaned forward until his forehead rested against Agron's, "so that we may find ways to set your anger aside."
Agron did not reply, instead turning his head until his mouth brushed against Nasir's in a tender caress. When he made movement to back away, Nasir put easy pressure on his neck and deepened the kiss, nuzzling Agron's upper lip until that stern mouth opened to him, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Agron rumbled low in his throat as he chased Nasir's tongue with his own, a gentle duel that ended only when Nasir shifted to take pressure off his still uncovered wound.
"You make compelling argument," Agron's smile was but a shadow of his usual grin, "yet anger is not the only reason my hands cannot bear to be parted from you this night."
A chord of dread struck deep inside Nasir. He swallowed, speaking only when he knew his voice would not betray him. "You are for Neopolis, then?"
Agron nodded as he finished wrapping Nasir's wound with clean cloth. "The rising sun will see us well on our way."
"I will be ready."
Looking up sharply, Agron frowned. "You do not go to Neopolis."
"I am able," Nasir protested. To accompany Agron on such a task and show his measure, it was a thing greatly desired. "Let me be of use to you and the others." He cupped Agron's cheek with his palm. "This time, we both go."
Gathering Nasir's hand in his, Agron shook his head. "The men are chosen, the path is set, yet heart is torn." Agron looked past Nasir, eyes drawn tight with worry. "To have you beside me is more desirable than being parted from you, yet I once thought you safer here, among friends, and would keep you that way." His face darkened as he gazed once again upon Nasir. "Something I no longer believe to be true."
Looking into Agron's eyes, Nasir recalled Trassus' words, that Agron's heart was corrupted by vengeance and so had no room for Nasir, whom Trassus likened to a stray dog. The thought brought an unintended smile to his lips, a smile he regretted when Agron's eyes narrowed. Reaching up, he rubbed the furrowed space between Agron's eyes with his thumb as if to erase concerns. Agron rolled his eyes and swatted the hand away, then recaptured it as he rose to his feet, guiding Nasir to stand beside him.
"You speak of Trassus," Nasir said, "yet I would have you remember it was the gladiator you found rolling in dirt."
The light tone in Nasir's voice was enough to tease out an appearance of the crease in Agron's cheek, but it disappeared too quickly. "He will not fall so easily again," Agron muttered. "Keep far from his sight until I return."
Nasir nodded as they made their way to the table holding evening meal. "Counsel I have already taken to heart. Though you and he share a like opinion."
Agron frowned at him. "I do not know the man. Of what do you speak?"
"He likened me to a dog," Nasir stuck his elbow in Agron's side, "as have you."
Agron shook his head, expression lofty yet eyes bright with laughter as he waved away Nasir's accusation. "I do not recall such words."
Hooking his finger in the leather thongs that curled around on Agron's throat, Nasir slowly pulled Agron downward until their eyes met. "It is just as well the gods favoured you as a gladiator, as your skill as a liar is sadly lacking."
***
Nasir felt the shift in Agron's breathing beneath his cheek before Agron actually made move to rise. They lay quietly for a few moments, his hand splayed across Agron's belly, Agron's hand buried in Nasir's long hair, sharing a moment of peace in the dark.
"It is time?" Nasir whispered.
Agron didn't answer, instead disentangling himself from Nasir's embrace and rolling to his knees, only to turn back and place his lips to Nasir's bare shoulder. He got to his feet and Nasir scrambled after him, the two of them carefully making their way over sleeping bodies in the temple by what little light the moon provided.
Emerging into the courtyard, they found Crixus and the men chosen to go with Agron and Spartacus to Neopolis waiting near the entrance. Nasir stood apart from them, shoulder to shoulder with Agron, dreading the farewell he knew was fast approaching. Something of his unease must have been felt by Agron, who stepped behind Nasir and draped one arm over him, exerting gentle pressure until Nasir rested flush against his chest.
They remained that way, unspeaking yet connected, until Spartacus and Mira joined them, Spartacus gesturing to draw them closer and addressing Agron in low voice as Crixus handed him the small leather pouch holding all their coin.
"We must make speed, brother," Spartacus whispered, "and bring back warriors from Neopolis if we are to see purpose fulfilled."
"You waste time," Crixus hissed, "be on your way, and do not let Agron open fucking mouth unless there is no avoiding it."
Agron growled low and would have struck out toward Crixus had not Nasir anticipated his reaction and held him back. Shaking off Nasir's hand, he glared at Crixus, then nodded toward the others who would accompany them to Neopolis. They moved off toward the entrance and Crixus held out his hand to Spartacus, who took his wrist in a firm grip.
"Success," Crixus said, then he and Mira slipped back into the shadows of the temple as Spartacus joined the others outside. Agron looked at Nasir, whose weak attempt at a smile was clearly seen for what it was in the pre-dawn darkness. He tried not to flinch when Agron tucked a lock of his unbound hair behind his ear, the tender gesture mocking the emptiness awaiting him once Agron was gone.
"Will you miss me, little man?" Agron's voice was soft with affection, his use of the teasing term not lost on Nasir. Yet Nasir was in no mood for teasing, knowing full well the perils that awaited Agron on his journey. Turning away from Agron, he lowered his troubled gaze to the ground.
"Does a man not know when his heart is missing?"
The quietly spoken words fell from Nasir's mouth before he could prevent them, words he had no intention of sharing, though they were true. He had no wish to burden Agron now, knowing this parting could be their last.
Agron's hand fell heavy on his shoulder, guiding him to turn until they faced each other. Nasir slowly raised his gaze, his second attempt at a sincere smile as much a failure as the first.
Shaking his head, Agron framed Nasir's face with his palms, a fleeting smile crossing his own features.
"Not if he carries another's heart with him," he murmured, then bent down to kiss Nasir. It was a swift kiss, hard and full of promise, followed by a quick, loving nip along the lower curve of Nasir's mouth--and then Agron was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Nasir alone.
Later that morning, the sun beating down upon his head and shoulders as he trained beside the others in the courtyard, it was Agron's parting words that kept Nasir's sword straight and true, the promise in Agron's kiss that Nasir wove around his memory like a necklace to keep close until Agron returned.
But it was his growing understanding of his own worth, the strength that the rebellion had given him, and what men like Spartacus saw in him that allowed him to hold his head high when he felt Trassus' covetous gaze fall upon him later that day. That Trassus was yet bold enough to make intent known, even if it was only by the malicious expression shining from black eyes, was no surprise to Nasir. There was still danger in a situation that would find its resolution one way or another, but it was Nasir's to resolve, and he would see it through.
Okay, itch=scratched.
Spoilers, of course.
05/10/12 - edited to rearrange some plot points I'd gotten out of order. gratitude :).
The Worth of a Man
Chadara's body was gone, borne away by knowing hands. Her spilt blood had been mixed with mud and scraped aside, the place already obliterated by boots, sandals, bare feet.
It was as though she'd never been.
Gannicus was also gone and the feel of the camp had changed. Nasir watched the gladiators fall back to their training, faces grim, spirits worn down by the rejection from one they viewed as their own. Spartacus had called for words with those from whom he took counsel, and the rest of the camp turned to whatever tasks beckoned.
Nasir was alone.
The entry to the temple called to him. Spartacus spoke of freedom, a word still tart on Nasir's tongue. Had freedom been gained when collar was ripped from throat? Or at the death of his dominus? Or when Nasir had made choice to aid in the search for Naevia, even though his heart longed to remain close to one who looked on him with such contempt for that very choice?
Or was freedom to be found outside the walls of the temple, far enough away that the burn of rough voices, the rush of sour wind, the choking dust all faded to nothing?
Nasir's feet bore him forward until he stood outside the wall, breathing in cool, untainted air. There was more rain on the breeze, meaning that all inside the temple would need to find shelter beneath its roof this night, too many bodies in a place built for far less. Privacy was a luxury at the best of times; if the weather continued to disfavour them, there would be no quiet words with Agron, no place to rest where they would be away from prying eyes.
Finding a small embrasure in the temple wall, Nasir tucked himself inside, sliding to the ground and pulling his knees to his chest, one hand pressed to his wound to ease the strain. He felt bruised from the loss of Chadara, unable to condemn her for not fitting into the world she found herself in yet angry with her for not trusting those who had sacrificed so much. She was the last, true link to a world that Nasir left behind the day he took up sword to save the life of Spartacus.
His fingers fell again to the cloth that protected the still-healing wound he'd received in the woods, an injury gladly taken in defence of another. It was all so new to him, this belief that his life was worth no more yet no less than the man or woman beside him, no matter their status. Yes, Spartacus spoke of freedom, yet he did not speak of equality, and Nasir, who once knew his place in the world, now found himself wondering where he belonged. Here, in this broken temple to foreign gods, there was a hierarchy to things, a separation between gladiators and house slaves, even those house slaves such as himself who trained in the sand of the courtyard. Yet Nasir had much knowledge of household issues and shared that knowledge so that all could partake equally in what few supplies they possessed. He straddled two worlds and mastered neither, adapting to the needs of many while wondering if the light to be found only in Agron's eyes would eventually shine toward someone else.
Nasir bowed his head and shifted his hips, wincing when his wound protested. He felt a spurt of fresh, warm blood against his skin and he sighed, anticipating the scolding awaiting him once Naevia caught sight of the stained cloth. That combined with the freshening wind convinced him to seek shelter inside once more, his aim to have wound tended before Agron found cause to scold him as well.
Rising to his feet, bracing his hands on the temple's rough walls, he did not hear the approach of another until a shadow crossed his eyes. He looked up to see Trassus standing near, blocking the path back to the temple entrance.
Nasir had no reason to fear this gladiator and greeted him with a smile. "You seek a moment away from your brothers," he said. "I shall leave you to your privacy, as many tasks await me."
Trassus did not move. He was one of Crixus' men who'd chosen Vesuvius over the mines, a quiet Gaul who preferred to stay in the shadows and observe, unlike the balance of his kin. "It is not privacy I seek, but your company."
Nasir frowned. He and Trassus had exchanged no words of value since the rebels had taken the home of Nasir's dominus, so he could think of no cause for the gladiator's request now. He searched his memory for a blunder committed on the training field, a foot trod upon in error, a clumsy cut of a sword. He could think of none.
"Apologies," he stammered, "have I offended?"
Trassus stepped closer, his fingers fretting the leather threads dangling from his subligaria. "You belong to that fuck Agron. I would make better offer."
Swallowing hard, Nasir glanced away. The gladiators were unpredictable, he did not know their ways. But he did recognize lust when he saw it, and some inner wisdom advised him to handle the situation with care. Trassus was of larger stature than Agron, and though not as skilled with the sword, he was a trained warrior, no doubt accustomed to taking what he wanted.
"I belong to no one." Nasir kept his voice calm, his demeanour pleasant. "Save offer for one who seeks it."
With a quick nod, he moved to step around Trassus, only to find his way barred by the gladiator's arm.
"Mistake not my desire," Trassus hissed. He turned his head and looked down into Nasir's eyes, and Nasir recoiled at the darkness he saw there. He could feel the situation shifting, a scent of menace tainting the wind. "There are no others in this shit hole that interest me. Agron places the will of Spartacus above all else. I do not make that mistake."
"Spartacus values his counsel, they seek ways to keep us all free."
"Yet Agron leaves your bed empty in favour of words." Trassus twisted his arm, curving his fingers around Nasir's wrist and squeezing. "Were you mine, you would never rise from your knees."
Nasir did not bother to test Trassus' grip upon him--he knew it would be of no use. The unbreakable clasp recalled a life left behind, a life of being used as a thing to be passed around for the amusement and abuse of others. It was a life he no longer claimed as his own, yet Trassus' larger size and malevolent intent had him at a disadvantage that appeasing words would not make equal.
Keeping still, he offered Trassus a smile devoid of warmth, lest he be misunderstood. "Gratitude, but I do not seek another."
With a powerful flex of his arm, Trassus brought Nasir up against his chest, his other hand sinking into the hair at the base of Nasir's neck and tugging hard.
"Agron is consumed with vengeance for loss of a brother. Do not think there is room in his heart for a pretty house slave who follows him like stray dog." Trassus turned his head and spat, then dragged Nasir closer until Nasir could feel his foul, hot breath upon his cheek. "And when thirst for vengeance makes him careless, he will die. Crawl to me then, and see if my favour falls upon you still."
The tightening of the rough hands upon him gave Nasir warning that Trassus would yet press advantage with Agron otherwise occupied. Panic slid through Nasir's veins as Trassus used his body to shift them toward the break in the temple wall, his mind racing to find a path that would see him safely away. Salvation came to him in the voice of Spartacus, ringing in his head.
"You have not size," Spartacus reached down to help Nasir to his feet after another gentle blow had felled him, "you must use other weapons."
"I can yet barely lift sword," Nasir panted, "what would you have me use?"
"Others may see you as weak, use that to advantage. Strike when attack is not expected. Employ feet,
hands, anything you find. Let foe make mistake, and use it against him."
There was no time to think, only act. Acknowledging he could not overpower Trassus--and knowing that disabling him in any meaningful way threatened them all, since his sword was needed for defence--Nasir struck out with his foot, curling it behind Trassus' ankle and pulling it back with a twist of his body as he dug his elbow into the hard centre of Trassus' gut, his other hand scraping into the skin of Trassus' exposed neck. Trassus went over with a surprised grunt, gripping his throat as he fought to regain balance before he landed on his back, arms flailing as curses of an unknown tongue flew from his mouth.
As soon as Nasir found himself free of Trassus' weakened grip, he scrambled away toward the temple entrance, unsure how to proceed as he watched the giant man flounder in the dirt. He chose not run away like a wounded animal, but to see the misunderstanding resolved to avoid future conflict. Absently placing his palm against his own wound, he took a deep breath as Trassus struggled to his feet.
"I give no apologies, nor ask for any," Nasir said quickly, "but would seek instead--"
"Nasir!"
Whirling, Nasir saw Agron standing at the entry to the temple, the bright smile on his face fading as his gaze passed over Nasir, taking in his dishevelled appearance and shortness of breath. From there his gaze flew to Trassus, who had regained footing and was swiping at the ribbons of blood Nasir's fingernails had left upon his neck.
Nasir held his arms out from his sides. "Agron, I--"
Agron was already on the move, the flames in his eyes revealing to Nasir his interpretation of the scene before him. Although Agron was not far wrong, Nasir sought to cool that fire, grabbing Agron's arm as he lunged toward Trassus and swinging him around until they faced each other.
"Agron! Do not--it is not as you think!"
When Agron would have swept Nasir aside, Nasir placed his hand on Agron's chest, then recoiled when he saw that he'd smeared the blood from his own wound on Agron's skin. Agron's eyes went wide and wild as he stared at Nasir, his jaw set in stone as he placed his hands on Nasir's shoulders.
"Speak fast and true," Agron's voice was low and ragged, "before I rip out the heart of that fucking Gaul and feed it to him for putting fucking hand upon you."
Nasir glanced at Trassus, who was leaning against the wall of the temple, watching the two men with malice and something else in his eyes.
"A misunderstanding only," Nasir said urgently, "one resolved between us."
"I would know the source of such misunderstanding," Agron growled, "that is resolved with the shedding of precious blood."
Nasir bit his lip. He would not lie, nor would he risk harm coming to Agron should Trassus choose to make his darkest intentions toward Nasir known and thus escalate the situation.
"Trassus offered a place in his bed should you fall," Nasir said, then shoved Agron back when he lunged again toward Trassus. "I reacted as a free man, not as a slave, and lashed out unthinkingly." He glanced over his shoulder at Trassus. "He will not make offer again."
"What of the blood that even now stains your clothing?" Agron grabbed Nasir's wrist, turning his palm upward. "And covers your hands?"
"Caused only by my own clumsiness." He pulled his wrist from Agron's grip and pressed his fingers to the fabric wrapped around his belly. He tried not to wince, as the skin beneath the cloth was now warm and tender to the touch. "I will seek out Naevia to have wound tended."
Argon stood with shoulders squared, his chin lifted and nostrils flaring as he looked from Nasir to Trassus and back again.
"I shall see to injury myself." Agron spoke stiffly, as if with great effort.
Though his heart warmed to the offer, Nasir shook his head. "You are needed elsewhere. Surely Spartacus--"
"Can fucking wait."
***
"You tend me with hands clever as a woman's," Nasir murmured, "yet anger still lingers in your touch."
Agron paused in his inspection of Nasir's injury but did not raise gaze from task. "That is not my intent," he said on a sigh. Reaching for salve to coat the ragged edges of recently parted skin, he shook his head. "The leashing of anger is a gift yet to be granted me by the gods."
Nasir smiled, a small thing yet sincere, then gasped and flinched as blunt, probing fingers pressed too hard. Agron looked up, his expression stricken, and suddenly there was not enough air for Nasir to draw breath. Agron's heart was in his eyes, their colour dimmed and mouth downturned with fear that he'd hurt Nasir. To have power over a man such as Agron--how could Nasir prove worthy of this gift?
Tentatively, Nasir lifted his hand to Agron's face, brushing his fingertips across his cheek before sliding them into the hair at Agron's nape. The fear in Agron's eyes faded, but the concern they held did not.
"Finish your task," Nasir leaned forward until his forehead rested against Agron's, "so that we may find ways to set your anger aside."
Agron did not reply, instead turning his head until his mouth brushed against Nasir's in a tender caress. When he made movement to back away, Nasir put easy pressure on his neck and deepened the kiss, nuzzling Agron's upper lip until that stern mouth opened to him, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Agron rumbled low in his throat as he chased Nasir's tongue with his own, a gentle duel that ended only when Nasir shifted to take pressure off his still uncovered wound.
"You make compelling argument," Agron's smile was but a shadow of his usual grin, "yet anger is not the only reason my hands cannot bear to be parted from you this night."
A chord of dread struck deep inside Nasir. He swallowed, speaking only when he knew his voice would not betray him. "You are for Neopolis, then?"
Agron nodded as he finished wrapping Nasir's wound with clean cloth. "The rising sun will see us well on our way."
"I will be ready."
Looking up sharply, Agron frowned. "You do not go to Neopolis."
"I am able," Nasir protested. To accompany Agron on such a task and show his measure, it was a thing greatly desired. "Let me be of use to you and the others." He cupped Agron's cheek with his palm. "This time, we both go."
Gathering Nasir's hand in his, Agron shook his head. "The men are chosen, the path is set, yet heart is torn." Agron looked past Nasir, eyes drawn tight with worry. "To have you beside me is more desirable than being parted from you, yet I once thought you safer here, among friends, and would keep you that way." His face darkened as he gazed once again upon Nasir. "Something I no longer believe to be true."
Looking into Agron's eyes, Nasir recalled Trassus' words, that Agron's heart was corrupted by vengeance and so had no room for Nasir, whom Trassus likened to a stray dog. The thought brought an unintended smile to his lips, a smile he regretted when Agron's eyes narrowed. Reaching up, he rubbed the furrowed space between Agron's eyes with his thumb as if to erase concerns. Agron rolled his eyes and swatted the hand away, then recaptured it as he rose to his feet, guiding Nasir to stand beside him.
"You speak of Trassus," Nasir said, "yet I would have you remember it was the gladiator you found rolling in dirt."
The light tone in Nasir's voice was enough to tease out an appearance of the crease in Agron's cheek, but it disappeared too quickly. "He will not fall so easily again," Agron muttered. "Keep far from his sight until I return."
Nasir nodded as they made their way to the table holding evening meal. "Counsel I have already taken to heart. Though you and he share a like opinion."
Agron frowned at him. "I do not know the man. Of what do you speak?"
"He likened me to a dog," Nasir stuck his elbow in Agron's side, "as have you."
Agron shook his head, expression lofty yet eyes bright with laughter as he waved away Nasir's accusation. "I do not recall such words."
Hooking his finger in the leather thongs that curled around on Agron's throat, Nasir slowly pulled Agron downward until their eyes met. "It is just as well the gods favoured you as a gladiator, as your skill as a liar is sadly lacking."
***
Nasir felt the shift in Agron's breathing beneath his cheek before Agron actually made move to rise. They lay quietly for a few moments, his hand splayed across Agron's belly, Agron's hand buried in Nasir's long hair, sharing a moment of peace in the dark.
"It is time?" Nasir whispered.
Agron didn't answer, instead disentangling himself from Nasir's embrace and rolling to his knees, only to turn back and place his lips to Nasir's bare shoulder. He got to his feet and Nasir scrambled after him, the two of them carefully making their way over sleeping bodies in the temple by what little light the moon provided.
Emerging into the courtyard, they found Crixus and the men chosen to go with Agron and Spartacus to Neopolis waiting near the entrance. Nasir stood apart from them, shoulder to shoulder with Agron, dreading the farewell he knew was fast approaching. Something of his unease must have been felt by Agron, who stepped behind Nasir and draped one arm over him, exerting gentle pressure until Nasir rested flush against his chest.
They remained that way, unspeaking yet connected, until Spartacus and Mira joined them, Spartacus gesturing to draw them closer and addressing Agron in low voice as Crixus handed him the small leather pouch holding all their coin.
"We must make speed, brother," Spartacus whispered, "and bring back warriors from Neopolis if we are to see purpose fulfilled."
"You waste time," Crixus hissed, "be on your way, and do not let Agron open fucking mouth unless there is no avoiding it."
Agron growled low and would have struck out toward Crixus had not Nasir anticipated his reaction and held him back. Shaking off Nasir's hand, he glared at Crixus, then nodded toward the others who would accompany them to Neopolis. They moved off toward the entrance and Crixus held out his hand to Spartacus, who took his wrist in a firm grip.
"Success," Crixus said, then he and Mira slipped back into the shadows of the temple as Spartacus joined the others outside. Agron looked at Nasir, whose weak attempt at a smile was clearly seen for what it was in the pre-dawn darkness. He tried not to flinch when Agron tucked a lock of his unbound hair behind his ear, the tender gesture mocking the emptiness awaiting him once Agron was gone.
"Will you miss me, little man?" Agron's voice was soft with affection, his use of the teasing term not lost on Nasir. Yet Nasir was in no mood for teasing, knowing full well the perils that awaited Agron on his journey. Turning away from Agron, he lowered his troubled gaze to the ground.
"Does a man not know when his heart is missing?"
The quietly spoken words fell from Nasir's mouth before he could prevent them, words he had no intention of sharing, though they were true. He had no wish to burden Agron now, knowing this parting could be their last.
Agron's hand fell heavy on his shoulder, guiding him to turn until they faced each other. Nasir slowly raised his gaze, his second attempt at a sincere smile as much a failure as the first.
Shaking his head, Agron framed Nasir's face with his palms, a fleeting smile crossing his own features.
"Not if he carries another's heart with him," he murmured, then bent down to kiss Nasir. It was a swift kiss, hard and full of promise, followed by a quick, loving nip along the lower curve of Nasir's mouth--and then Agron was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Nasir alone.
Later that morning, the sun beating down upon his head and shoulders as he trained beside the others in the courtyard, it was Agron's parting words that kept Nasir's sword straight and true, the promise in Agron's kiss that Nasir wove around his memory like a necklace to keep close until Agron returned.
But it was his growing understanding of his own worth, the strength that the rebellion had given him, and what men like Spartacus saw in him that allowed him to hold his head high when he felt Trassus' covetous gaze fall upon him later that day. That Trassus was yet bold enough to make intent known, even if it was only by the malicious expression shining from black eyes, was no surprise to Nasir. There was still danger in a situation that would find its resolution one way or another, but it was Nasir's to resolve, and he would see it through.
Okay, itch=scratched.