Pain
It is inevitable now. He knows, though he finds it hard to believe. He will steel himself for what is to come. He will not give the fucking cunts the satisfaction of hearing him sc-
Fucking Gods!
Pain.
Sharp.
Blinding.
Intense.
Hot white pain is all that exists for a moment. He is from the lands east of the Rhine, a gladiator, a warrior. He never goes down without a fight, he shows no weakness and he does not cry out when he is struck. However, this is fucking unbearable and the screams tumble freely from his lips, only interrupted by quick shallow gasps. The sound of the hammers hitting the nails rings in his ears like thunder.
Agron wakes with a start, breathing heavily, his heart racing. For a moment he his helplessly entangled in the cobwebs of his nightmare, feeling like he merely woke from a dream within a dream. It is only when Nasir stirs at his side that he relaxes slightly. He yields to the sudden urge to pull Nasir into a tight embrace. The way his breathing changes, makes him realise he woke him.
"Apologies. I did not mean to disturb sleep," he whispers, brushing his lips against the crown of Nasir's head, desperately trying to shake the gnawing sensation of there being something wrong. He should leave it at that, should let Nasir go back to sleep and follow him in this endeavour. Only he feels unable to do so. It is all too vividly in his mind: the nails, his screams and the pain. Most of all the pain. "I dreamt of death. I dreamt I was dying."
"You gone from this world?" Nasir breathes against his skin and rolls on top of him. The smile on his lips is at the same time bright and drowsy as he kisses the scar above his heart and softly cups his cheek. "Impossible."
Agron wraps a leg around Nasir's hip to keep him in this position. For a moment he feels searing sun burn his skin and his head throbbing. This fucking dream is more persistent than any other he has ever had before. He concentrates on the warmth of Nasir's body and tries to chase away the echo of the dream's loneliness. But he cannot rid himself of the images in his mind. Of his blood staining the ground and the pain that has felt impossibly real. His fingers curl into a fist and open again but no matter how often he does it, his hands still feel strangely numb. He tangles them in Nasir's hair in an attempt to anchor himself in this world.
"I was dying and you were …" He tries to find words for this feeling that is so solid in his chest but so hazy he cannot grasp it. "Far," he finally finishes the sentence after a long silence but the words feel wrong even as he says them. Why would Nasir ever be far away from him? Agron has promised that Jupiter himself could not separate them and this is a vow he intends to keep if it fucking kills him.
"My place is forever with you," Nasir assures him instantly and it is the first time Agron feels a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. It smells like blood and piss and death and for a moment he is not sure what is dream and what is not. He shakes his head. No, Nasir is here in his arms. Heart beating against his chest and breath caressing his skin. This, this is the reality. It has to be. "You stand surprised?"
"No." Agron shakes his head with a little raspy laugh. Fuck, why is his throat so dry? He is not surprised, mesmerised maybe that this man choses to stay with him day after day, grateful for having found him but not surprised. Not anymore. He lets a hand travel down Nasir's back and delights in the soft sigh that he draws from his lips. If only the fucking nightmare would leave his mind.
"I may be of some aid."
Agron furrows his brow in confusion. Has he talked aloud? Nasir has long shown the ability to know his mind and heart by simply looking at him. This, however, feels strangely out of place. He shuts his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again he looks down on wood, a blood stained ground and someone's dirty feet. The sharp pain that surges through his body when he lifts his head brings him back to full consciousness. These are his feet, it his blood that drenches the earth and Nasir's heartbeat has been nothing but an illusion conjured by his tortured mind. A low moan escapes his lips at the realisation. The sound does not go unnoticed by the nearby soldiers.
"Still clinging to life, eh?"
"Not even Orcus wants stinking German dog."
I fucking piss on Roman afterlife, you cunts. Agron feels an irrational laugh bubbling up but it is only a strangled cough that leaves his throat. The slight movement of his body sends another jolt of pain through him. He knows his dying will be long drawn-out, but he is equally certain that upon leaving this world he will not answer to Orcus. These Roman Gods mean nothing to him. If he would ever be inclined to pray he would do so to the Gods of his homeland, to Wodan and Freyja and Tyr. But whichever Gods look down on him now, they could all fall from the heavens and break their fucking immortal necks for all he cares. It is of no import for they have taken away the blissful unconsciousness and removed Nasir's touch. Even if it only was in his mind. For once he prefers the figment to reality. So he tries to will himself back into the illusion, to the place where the pain was nothing but a nightmare. He wants to slip back into Nasir's arms and hear the dearly missed voice whisper of their love. More than anything he wants to feel Nasir's lips on his and leave this life in peace.
"Fool!"
Agron's head jerks up at the sound of the familiar voice. Duro. Unmistakeably. Fucking Gods, how it breaks his heart and pieces it back together at the same time to see his face. For a moment he is too stunned for movement or even thoughts, then the force of how much he has missed him hits him like a knife buried deep in his guts. Not that he has ever stopped missing Duro, but Agron has learned to live in a world where his brother does not. Painstakingly slowly and for a long time not caring about anything, but he has learned. Now that he sees him though, the loss seems to be as raw and fresh as ever. The few steps it takes Agron to reach his brother are like wading through water, but there is no obstacle that could hold him back. He clasps Duro's neck and brings their foreheads together. This cannot be, he knows that very well, but when he takes a breath, then another one and another and Duro still does not dissolve under his touch he allows himself to accept. It has to be the afterlife then or at least something of the sort. Reluctantly he lets go of Duro and looks at him. His brother stands before him, tall and strong, hunting spear in hand and wrapped in boar skin. Agron has not seen this bright a grin on his face since before being enslaved by the Roman fucks. The sight brings back so many memories he can barely stand straight.
"Fool," Duro repeats, the mocking tone and smile never far. "You are moron, brother. Only Gods know why they like you so much."
"Fuck the Gods!" Agron retorts and Duro's laugh breaks his heart all over again. Like him? If the Gods truly did they would not have taken this laugh from him. "They piss on me for fucking amusement."
Duro shakes his head as if Agron has just said the most foolish thing. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it again after a moment. He looks like a fish out of water, Agron cannot help but notice. Finally Duro shrugs and says with an exasperated huff: "You do not see what is plain before eyes."
"I see that you attempt hunt absent skill to throw spear," he nods to the weapon in Duro's hand.
"With brother's stomping feet to flush game I would not find need to wield it."
"I seek but to spare you embarrassment."
Duro laughs and Agron smiles and he can practically smell the damp forest of his homeland after a heavy rain and see the gentle slope of the hill on the horizon.
"You are still fool, brother."
Agron smacks him upside the head before he even thinks about it. His brother has never gotten away with calling him a fool twice and he is not about to let him now. Duro answers with a surprisingly quick punch under his ribs that leaves Agron short of breath and fucking hurts. Since when do Duro's punches have this force behind them?
No, that is wrong. Something is wrong about this thought. Duro is dead and he is … He must have moved, a twitch of muscle once again pulling him away from comfort. The sharp pain that has washed through his body for a moment is now gone and left behind a dull throbbing coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. No, that too is wrong. It emanates from the fucking nails and pulses through him. The slow rhythm makes Agron oddly aware of his own heartbeat, longing it were Nasir's against his skin.
"Agron, I would share a moment."
He stops in his tracks and bathes in Nasir's smile. It is the most beautiful thing in this world and it is only when he is graced with it that he can believe in the kindness of the Gods. However, they are far from his mind now for Nasir stands on his toes and presses his body against his. Suddenly the air feels twice as hot and it seems like he cannot get enough breath into his lungs.
"What inspired interruption of tasks?"
"Pursuit of … dreams," Nasir whispers and Agron, knowing exactly what kind of dreams Nasir is thinking of, allows himself to throw his sense of duty to the wind for a moment and brings their lips together in a crushing kiss.
"I did not fucking die for this."
Somewhat confused Agron looks around. The sting of the sudden loss of Nasir's body heat is only increased by his brother's harsh words. Duro's expression is earnest. He looks so much older now that the grin has disappeared. As have the boar skin and the spear. The latter is replaced by a sword, the blade slick with blood. Instantly he is back on the sands of the ludus and reliving the brief breath of respite when they were surrounded by dead Romans and he believed Spartacus' promise of freedom would actually come true for them. How proud he was of his brother, proving himself to be the warrior he had always aspired to be.
"I saved you, brother." It is as if Duro can read his thoughts, reminding him of the moment that had felt as if his soul and heart were ripped from his body with bare hands. He looks at Duro and all he can see is blood and the pain in Duro's eyes when he drew the sword from his body. Furiously he blinks away the rising tears. He will not fucking cry in front of his little brother.
He does not remember the minutes following Duro's death. All he can gather about them is the all-consuming rage and standing in pools of blood, Spartacus calling out his name and Doctore commenting on the carnage around him much later. They told him he killed all the remaining guards on his own. It did not feel like success for it was not enough. It never will be.
"I fucking failed." Agron cannot count how often he has thought this, but it is a whole different thing to say it aloud now. There is no doubt in his heart that he failed to keep the promise he made to their mother when the village had been under attack. How could there be? Protect Duro, he had sworn, if necessary with his life. "I failed you."
"Roman sword robbed me of life. Not you."
"Sword intended for me."
Duro slowly shakes his head and steps closer. This time it is he who brings their foreheads together for an instant. The sad smile on his lips cuts deeper than the angry words he said before.
"Aimed at you, brother. But destined for me." He steps back a pace. "Always for me. Gods have plans for you."
"Had," Agron corrects with a bitter laugh. "Had plans. I am beyond the Gods' plans now."
A crease appears between Duro's eyes. "You are not."
"This is not afterlife?"
"Thor's balls and hammer! Gain sense, you fucking idiot!"
Agron turns to his left and his mind comes to a halt trying to comprehend the situation but miserably failing to do so. There, a few steps away, is Duro like he first saw him. Clad in hunting gear and grinning. The spear he is holding is now red, the blood presumably coming from the deer at his feet. And there, right in front of him, Duro still frowns at him. All Agron can do is look back and forth between the two men that are one. They look so much alike and at the same time not at all. It is only in direct comparison that he realises how much Duro has changed. How his features have hardened in slavery and how the slight ever so relaxed slouch that has always annoyed him so much has disappeared in favour of the straight proud posture fitting for a warrior. He cannot help but think he has lost his brother twice. Would that the Gods let him leave this life with happier thoughts.
"You wish for wrong things," Duro accuses, pointing the sword to reinforce his words. "Cease foolishness."
"You ask me to die absent comfort?"
"I ask that you live."
It is all he can do not to laugh out loud. The irony of this is not lost on him. He very well remembers the last time these words were spoken.
"You asked it of him." The other Duro confirms his thoughts while he kneels to prepare the deer to carry it back to the village, not even lifting his gaze. "Follow own words."
Clearly, this is the Gods punishing him for the many mistakes he has made. His heart ceases in his chest remembering the pained look on Nasir's face. You fucking cast me aside. The words still hurt even though he cannot reproach Nasir for saying them. He was right. They could have eluded the Romans and have a life beyond the mountains. They could have had years together.
"You still can," Duro once again answers his thoughts.
"Choice is removed from hands." He is nailed to a fucking cross. How can Duro not see that he will never return to Nasir's loving arms?
"There is always a choice."
The words ring strangely familiar though not from Duro's lips. Agron feels more confused than ever and his brother looks like he is about to stab him while the second Duro ties the deer's feet together and lets out a frustrated chuckle. "Gods, you really are slow."
"I did not die for this," Duro states again, his voice suddenly bitter, all mocking lightness drained from it. "I did not die for you to fucking give up."
"I expected better from big brother always bragging about being true warrior." At least one of them still has a smile on his face.
Agron is not sure if the Duros – what a strange thought – are acknowledging each other or if they merely are both disappointed in him at the same time. His heart feels like it is being crushed in a fist anyhow. If there is one thing he never wanted to do, it is letting his little brother down. He cannot deny the truth in their words though. He hasn't even realised it until now, but he wants it all to end. He cannot go back and forth between dream and reality. It is too painful and if giving up means the pain will end, he will cease to fight.
"Besides, it is not befitting man from east of the Rhine to abandon thoughts of blood and battle for wishes of sweet kisses and whispers of love."
"He is reason I did not follow you sooner." He will not defend himself in this. It does not surprise him that Duro does not understand it. He who has always made light of anything concerning the heart and who never got the chance to give himself up completely to another. The thought makes Agron sad beyond compare but he will not apologize for his love for Nasir and his longing to once again hold him in his arms even if it is only an illusion. More is forever denied to him anyway. It has taken him a long time to truly understand Crixus' desire to find Naevia no matter the cost. He sees now that it is not a weakness. "As long as heart beats it will beat for no one but him."
"Why did you leave him then?"
Agron is about to say something about blood and battle, but the words catch in his throat. What point is there to defend this now? He should not have followed Crixus in his foolish mission and he was a fool to ever believe they could succeed.
"A mistake," he concedes.
"I told you you are fool," Duro states and casts a smug look that is beyond fucking annoying. Agron is not sure whether Duro comments on his actions or the fact that he loves in the first place.
"Maybe he truly is better off with the pirate," he adds and it is all Agron can do not to smack him. Thinking about the fucking Cilian stings. Duro grins, obviously enjoying the effect the remark has on him. "That one never seems to leave side of your boy. Especially now."
The image of the fucking pirate at Nasir's side is letting a wave of anger and jealousy surge through him. His fists clench with the desire to punch someone. Hard. No matter how much he tries to forget, he remembers Nasir's flattered little smile at the Cicilian's words. Maybe it has already blossomed into something more.
"He is not mine. Not anymore." The words barely leave his lips and he needs to shut his eyes for a moment as he realises the full truth. He left Nasir. He pushed him away and left him behind and although his heart will always belong to him, Nasir might not want it any longer. The thought is so fucking unbearable he immediately pushes it from his mind. This is not what he wants to think about. He wants to remember Nasir's laugh and their bodies pressed into one another, the way he hissed before battle and how he wrapped himself in nothing but Agron's coat. "Would that I could reverse time."
"You cannot, you fool, but you can have future," Duro chides, though it sounds a lot kinder than before. Casually he slings the deer over his shoulder as if this conversation was a perfectly normal occurrence. "You know he does not fucking want the fucking pirate."
"I died so you could live, brother." Duro points the sword at him again, blood dripping from its tip as he emphasises each following syllable with a tap against his chest. "So fucking live and be his again. He never stopped being yours."
For the span of a heartbeat everything seems to fall into place and then the world shatters into pain once more.
Agron slumps to his knees. Instinctively he tries to stave off the fall with his hands but of course all he achieves is blinding pain as he attempts to bring his arms forward. His face hits the ground and he nearly passes out. Someone yanks him roughly to his back and cuts the cloth binding him to the beam. He knows what is about to happen and he is certain he is prepared. After all he knows how it felt when the nails were being driven into his palms. How different can the reversal be?
"Wach auf."
It takes effort to gain a sense of his situation. He must have blacked out and he does not know how much time has passed since he has been freed from the beam he is apparently still lying on. Someone is nudging him with a foot. Agron tenses and wants to move away from the touch or at least protect his ribs but when he tries his body protests with excruciating pain. Still, being sprawled on his back makes him feel too vulnerable and he brings his arms and legs closer together, curling slightly. Everything aches.
"Is he still of this world?"
"Agron, du musst aufstehen."
He can sense someone crouching down beside him and somehow he is sure it is not a Roman fuck. A finger pokes his cheek and lifts one of his eyelids. Again the person nudges him, carefully but insistent.
"Steh auf!"
Agron's eyes flutter open. The world around him slowly comes into focus and with it the face hovering above him. He is only mildly surprised for it to be Duro's, though he is apparently losing the last bits of his sanity for Duro cannot be more than ten years old. However, it is clearly him, no matter how often he blinks. His little brother has twisted his hair in an imitation of the style the men of their village wear when they become warriors, ever so impatient to be one of them. He remembers teasing him mercilessly about it and Duro pouting until he promised to let him practice with a real sword soon.
"Eyes open. He yet draws breath."
"Agro-on. Ich will ge-he-hen." Duro lets himself fall to the ground and pushes a cup at his lips. The water, though warm and stale, tastes like the finest wine. Half of it spills as he cannot find it in himself to lift his head but it somehow makes him feel better. If only a little.
"Danke," he mumbles and is unsure if he is actually talking or only thinking.
"What is he saying?"
"How the fuck would I know? Look at him, he is clearly not in right mind."
"Agron! Komm schon oder ich geh ohne dich." Duro darts away a few a steps, easily slipping between the legs of the men around him, never even touching them. Still, Agron feels a sudden pang of fear. Duro cannot be hurt under his eyes. He needs to move, he needs to hold him back, but his limbs are too heavy.
"Duro, bleib hier, das ist gefährlich!"
His brother merely laughs and it is the kind of giddy laugh only children can do. Agron has almost forgotten what a light sound that is, like the first rays of sunshine in the morning or the breeze in spring after a long winter. It soothes his pain a little and the thinks he might be able to stand up now although his muscles cramp at the very thought of movement. By the time he has struggled to his knees he is bathed in cold sweat and on the verge of losing consciousness again but he takes deep breaths and somehow manages to get to his feet. Swaying and unsteadily but upright. Or at least a semblance of it.
"Lass uns gehen, lass uns gehen, lass uns gehen!" Duro impatiently tugs at a hand but lets go of it immediately when Agron winces. Agron does not need to look to know where the pain is coming from. For a moment Duro looks up at his older brother with questioning eyes, then he skips away and comes back with a handful of rags that he ties around Agron's palms. Carefully he wraps his little hand around a finger and tugs again. "Gehen wir."
Agron is still struggling with standing and the idea of walking is nauseating but Duro is so eager that he cannot bring himself to admit that all he wants to do is lie down again and rest. He lets out a shaky breath and makes a small step.
"Wohin?"
"Nachhause natürlich," Duro declares firmly and smiles up at him again. "Zurück zu ihm."
A/N: Much gratitude to crazyundeadfairy: Thank you for your encouraging words.