Title: Walk back home (Aurelia / Mira)
Rating: T
Notes: originally written for the livejournal community sbsfemslash's 2010 drabble table. Prompt: character study.
Summary: Set between episodes 12 ('Revelations') and 13 ('Kill them all'). Some past mistakes cannot be taken back.
OOOOO
Regardless of her looks, Aurelia had never been a weak woman. Neither a victim, and always a fighter. Truth was that Varro, despite loving those qualities, had always been too protective of her, and Aurelia, tired of fighting from her very early childhood, had indulged in such safe haven.
If she had not, she would have stopped Varro from his shameful gambling, saving and protecting her family, as she had always done in the past with her little brother. As she had neglected that part of herself, the gods had punished her again in the worst of manners, and through a Thracian who understood nothing of friendship and honor. And he yet still wondered why she refused his coin.
Aurelia had become a pale shadow of herself, and now struggled to return to the feisty young woman she once was. Recently she had realized the walk back home would be harder than she thought. Disposing of the baby had felt like a dagger she could not take out from her heart, the loneliness unbearable. Leaving their child behind until she paid for Varro's debts haunted her dreams. She missed him terribly, but she had sworn that never again would she depend on a man.
So she had done what needed to be done.
Still, it wasn't enough to make her feel a glimpse of the person she wanted to become again. She was vulnerable now, and to the stupidest things. Like the way she felt whenever the other slave reprimanded her. Her name was Mira. But Aurelia was far from being a quiet one. That at least, she still kept inside. And once far from the presence of the ones she was now forced to call masters, she lost no time with words. "Why do you hate me?"
"I do not."
Liar "You speak with harsh commands."
"And you do not raise your head to look at me when I do."
Confused, Aurelia looked up.
"Slaves learn to speak with their bodies when their tongues must be still. If you looked into my eyes you would not see hate, but concern."
"You do not feel such thing for me," she spat. "You are Spartacus' whore and—"
The slap almost threw her off balance.
Mira's voice came low. Careful not to make an inappropriate tone reach prying ears. "You blame him for your husband's death." She could sense the tension on the petit woman's shoulders as she froze. "You do not even bother to understand," she added.
"My husband is dead. Spartacus took his life. What is there to understand?," she asked, also careful not to rise her voice. "Are all blind and deaf in this house?"
"It was Varro's hand that pulled the blade slicing his own flesh." Mira spoke direct, as she only knew to do, yet tried to soften her husky voice. Despite her disagreement with the widow's opinion, she knew how it felt to lose everything, and how much rage could numb all senses.
"Varro would never take his own—"
"He did it. For you." Mira approached Aurelia and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, silently asking her to turn and look her in the eye again. "A boy with too much power for one night ordered his death as part of a game. Spartacus would have fought all the guards, but your husband knew better." Experience had hardened her to lengths Mira would have never thought possible. Experience had also taught her not to linger in grief.
Despite Aurelia's tears, the slave continued, resolved to tell the woman the truth, and spoke through her sobs. "It was the only way to keep you safe."
If only she would have been strong from the beginning. Varro would have never placed a feet in this house of which she was now a slave. Her body shook in pain and rage. The hand on her shoulder tendered its touch, and reached one of her cheeks. Aurelia saw the brown eyes staring back at her. Honesty was all she could see.
It did not make the pain away.
"I was with Spartacus that night. He told me Varro had pleaded him to stay alive and provide for you." Mira spoke softly. "And your children."
Aurelia collapsed in her arms, and for the first time in a long while, both women felt the force of warmth from two embracing arms.
Fin.
