Hello All! My apologies to my readers for disappearing off the face of the Earth! First I had to move for my new job, then grad school applications took up my life. When I was finally ready to write, my computer caught a virus and all my writings- 150 pages and ongoing were destroyed. So it was back to the drawing board. However, I am back, and I will be writing the sequel to Acta non Verba, so no fear. Until then, enjoy this offering of Spartacus/Ilithyia goodness! It's very stream of conscience, different from my usual style. Read and Review!
Disclaimer: As always, Spartacus and all assorted characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Starz and history.
Contemno: Hate
Ilithyia hates Spartacus. She has hated him from the start-hated his arrogance, his defiance against Rome, against her beloved Claudius.
Hated him for his defiance of her.
Ilithyia is long used to being desired- she knows that her beauty was as much as draw to Claudius as her father's power and patronage. She is used to being the toast of Rome, the one all men pant for, the one all husbands favor.
And the insult that slave, that fucking Thracian gave her! Trying to kill her after the pleasure that had come before…as if the horror of who he had been fucking was too much.
Men would die for a glance from her. Spartacus had her, and would have given more consideration to a filthy dog after he knew who was beneath the mask.
She hates him for that.
Varro was a fitting revenge. A way to hurt the champion of Capua, to gouge a wound that would heal little or not at all. And it had worked. The pleasure that came from looking at his face, to see him undone. Ilithyia had never felt anything like it. Spartacus at her mercy at last, though he did not know it.
And then he rose against his masters, an indomitable spirit. A part of Ilithyia, one she does her best to ignore, admires that strength.
Spartacus gave her an opportunity to escape Capua, but Claudius drags her back.
A part of Ilithyia hates her husband for that.
And now, in the house of Batiatus, surrounded by the horrors and nightmares of times past, with Lucretia panting for an opportunity around every corner…now the dreams begin.
Apollo masked rutting with Diana, golden bodies rubbing against each other.
Ilithyia had never felt anything like it before or since. Those insane sensations, pleasure so sharp and deep that she lost herself over and over and over. Claudius is a pale candle compared to the sun in that regard. She hates Spartacus for that as well.
The child stirs in her belly, and Ilithyia strokes her stomach lightly. A boy, surely, with his aggression and strength. The contraceptives she took did not work. She has counted the weeks and months. The baby is Spartacus's. No matter. It will be a Roman citizen, and will rise to heights its father will never reach.
For a moment, Ilithyia closes her eyes, and Spartacus's face swims before her closed lids. His hands stroke her belly, and a smile curls his lips. He would be a good father, attentive and kind, she knows it.
But it does not matter. If Spartacus knew, he could very well do to her what Crixus did to Lucretia. Just as well he escaped.
Ilithyia leans back, trying not to escape into dreams of the golden Apollo and Diana. She repeats to herself.
She hates Spartacus.
She hates Spartacus.
She hates Spartacus.
The lie is bitter on her tongue.
