Author's Note - So this is my first Spartacus fic that will require multiple chapters, and I'm excited about it, but also a bit nervous. I've previously posted the first four chapters on Archive of Our Own, but wanted to put them on FanFiction too since that's where I have generally posted my other stuff. This is only my second Spartacus fic ever - and the first one had no dialogue - so I'm especially nervous because I feel like there's no way I can write the stilted speech that was done on the show. So I'm trying to do it justice, but please be kind.

Disclaimer - I own nothing.

Warnings - I am taking a lot of liberties here. The world you know from the TV show is not this one. Also, I am not wary of writing rape and sex in my stories, although I will try not to make it too graphic. Also, there are swears and violence, but that's just because I'm a huge fan of Agron and I myself swear like a sailor. :)

Chapter 1

Spartacus stood silent on the cliff that overlooked the coming morning's battlefield. The men were small in the distance, a formidable threat. There were but hours before battle would overtake the whole area. Hours before men and steel and blood would clash in the heat of daybreak.

"Spartacus!," a voice boomed and he felt the touch of a strong palm clap him hard on the back. He didn't need to turn.

Marcus Crassus let his hand linger at Spartacus's back and Spartacus smiled without looking at his friend. They'd known each other their whole lives. Romans, through and through.

"Look at the tiny rebel camp compared to our own horde of soldiers… the fucking rebels must be pissing and shitting themselves," Tiberius Crassus said from his father's side. The boy's voice was stronger than his years, his cockiness evident in his stance. Spartacus turned his head away from his view of the still peaceful lands and met his godson's eye.

"Don't be too sure, Tiberius. Remember, they're led by gladiators."

"From that shit Bathiatus's ludus," came a snort of derision from behind them and Spartacus stilled, knowing it was Caesar. He didn't like the man. He respected him for his name, but he still didn't like the man. The fellow Roman was untrustworthy, and he didn't understand what was at stake here – this was for Rome. The rebels must perish for the good of the republic.

Spartacus cut his eyes at the approaching blonde man. Caesar in turn raised an eyebrow… a challenge. Clearly the disdain for each other was more than mutual.

"And a seer," Tiberius said causing all them to look at him questioningly. He rushed to clarify, "the gladiators have a seer… all the men are talking about it."

It was Spartacus's torn to snort, for he did not believe in such things, turning back to watch the rebel camp that opposed the massive Roman army. Rebels…their numbers small, their chances for victory even smaller. A seer meant nothing. If anything, the seer would only seethem to their deaths faster. "Come," he said, giving a nod at Marcus, "let's break bread and prepare for the morn's victory."

She stood there in the soft breeze, her garments fluttering slightly, her black hair floating about her shoulders. She watched the top of the hill in the distance. The tiny specks of men she glimpsed there.

Great and unfortunate things.

"Sura," Agron's voice cut through the air behind her but she didn't turn. She watched the men in the distance turn from where they stood, disappearing down the mountain to their Roman camp. She watched until they were no longer there, and then glanced back to meet Agron's green-eyed gaze. The tall man looked worse for wear given the events of the last few weeks. His half-healed wounds were bandaged, his eyes weary but still held the strength of a man whose will was far stronger than even the strongest body, the largest army.

Agron could tell in her eyes that she'd seen something, the question forming on his brow.

She shook her head, partly to clear it, and partly to change his course before he asked. She didn't want to share. The time to share would come later. After.

Nasir appeared at Agron's side and she met his eyes for but a moment, yet somehow it was long enough for understanding to pass between them. Nasir was like that. He had been her confidant here for as long as she'd been with the rebels. Nasir's dark eyes shone suddenly, a frown crossing his face. She could see his fear there. A fear she shared. A fear that she actually knew would be realized.

Great and unfortunate things.

"Come," she said, her voice strong and not the least bit hesitant despite the thoughts coursing through her mind, "let us prepare for battle." She paused, swallowing the truth, swallowing the fear, resolving herself to what would be, "for victory."