Alright! My first Spartacus fanfiction...and it's not going to have Spartacus...-_-" But, hopefully the story will make up for the lack of it's namesake character. I don't want to spend tedious amounts of time doing historical research, so this isn't going to be completely accurate, but look forward to such people as Marc Antony and Cleopatra showing up. If you don't know them...you will. : D This isn't going to be slash [unless there's an overwhelming demand for it?] More action, bromance, historical awesomeness, and so on. Enjoy!
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Rome, 71 B.C.
The slamming of a door and clatter of an overturned goblet filled the room as Julius Caesar stormed in, followed by an exasperated Marcus Crassus. The younger male scowled as he poured himself a glass of wine and downed it quickly, before he faced Marcus over the table. "The Senate mocks us, all the while kissing a** of that fool Pompey! We are reported failures, while he glories in our victory over Spartacus!"
Marcus had heard this rant before, and it irked him every bit as much as it did Caesar if not more. He had fought Spartacus, they had met blades and he had seen a fit rival in the warrior. Spartacus had been a slave, but he could hardly think of him that way. The man he fought that day was not the mad beast Rome hailed him as. Rather, he was a cunning, ruthless, and honorable leader who had admittedly bested him. Had his men not arrived, Spartacus would have seen him to the afterlife. Truly a pity Spartacus had not been a Roman, but if he had to be Thracian, had to be a slave, had to be leader of an upstart rebellion...then Marcus Crassus, who had lost everything in pursuit of him...should damned well have had credit for his fall. But being sullen over old wounds would not secure him a bright future, and so he had supported Pompey's claim of victory and enticed Caesar to do the same.
"Three months have passed since death of Spartacus. You have many times vouched for Pompey's claim. Do not cry for it now."
Caesar's expression darkened. "I did so only at your insistence! You assured me support of Pompey was wisest course, and yet I see no laurels laid upon me. We are made to be as fools, because Pompey placed heavy a** upon horse long enough to ride upon and steal our victory!"
"A horse he rode after great victory in Spain! Butcher he may be, but Pompey is not without merit. And even were he not, he is held in high position and much favored of the Senate. A triumvirate between Crassus, Caesar, and Pompey would be of much advantage to us all. Replace reckless words with silent understanding and careful praise, and see advantageous fruits born of it."
Caesar inhaled heavily before he hmphed and drank another glass of wine. "I will do as you suggest, for now, but if fruits spoken of do not soon begin to bud...I will take measures to plant my own seeds." he warned.
Marcus Crassus would certainly circumvent the attempts, but he would not encourage further argument and discord by saying so. "Patience, Julius." Caesar was too informal now that they were allies, but Gaius was reserved for closest friends and family, and Caesar seemed not to favor it anyway. "You, who made Spartacus defeat possible, who have stood by my side...I will not let you fade from history's memory. We shall achieve greatness together." The wealth of Crassus and the Julian name, thirded by stature of Pompey.
Caesar's lip curled. "Greatness with Pompey. Have it your way. We will speak again come morning." When Marcus inclined his head, the younger man took his leave.
Marcus watched after him a moment before he sighed. Caesar was undoubtedly brilliant in his own right, but he lacked patience and his cunning was blunted by his aggressive nature. Still, he would be useful, and Marcus had no doubt that he could deliver what he'd promised.
...
Caesar's return home was fraught with muttered curses and scowls, and even the sight of his beautiful wife could not shake his irritation. He went to the balcony and glared up at the sky as though it were to blame for his current situation. "Spartacus dead at our hands. And Pompey takes the glory of it. And what say Marcus? It goes as planned! Is he a fool or merely mad?" he demanded of no one, merely venting aloud.
"-" A faint sound on the wind and a sudden chill on his neck caused Caesar to whirl around, and for the briefest moment, he saw a figure behind him. It held vague form, that of a man with an outstretched hand as if he'd grabbed at Caesar, but Caesar could make out no features and it was gone in an instant. His eyes widened and then he shook his head. The appartition had been a shadow, and the whisper and chill just the brush of the wind. A trick of the mind. "I am more tired than I thought." he muttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes. "To bed then."
He finally joined his wife in their bed, although she was already asleep and it was not long before he followed after.
"...r...ser...Caesar!"
Caesar awoke with a start as he heard his name shouted as though at a distant. The room was dim with only faint moonlight trickling in from behind the curtains. He squinted into the darkness at a hazy figure beside the bed. And then his heart clenched. There beside him, only briefly, the haze seemed to hold misshapen form, one that was unpleasantly familiar. "What-" But even as he spoke and his hand instictively moved towards the vision, it faded and disappeared.
He stared, stunned, until he felt his wife's hand slide up his side. "Gaius, what is it?" his wife murmured. "Lay back down, it's too cold without you."
Caesar glanced back at his wife, she had clearly not seen what he had. Had he even seen it at all? "Apologies, wife. I return at once." he finally swallowed hard and spoke before he lay back down beside her and pulled her into his arms. If he thought about it, the hollow voice had been familiar as well, as much as the face of the boy who'd once spoken with it. Caesar had surely been dreaming, although why of that, why now, he did not know.
But for just an instant, he'd have sworn it was Tiberius who stood before him.
Still, that was impossible. The boy was dead, and if it were a ghost which Caesar did not believe for a moment [that was nonsense, after all], why three months later come to haunt him? Why haunt him at all, and not his father, or his murderess? Although, she was dead too so that would be a bit difficult.
Caesar shook his head to clear it of such foolish thoughts, he had no time to spend pondering the workings of the dead. It was the living he was vested in and needed to focus on. He kissed his wife good night and settled back into bed to sleep, and to dream of victories rather than the casualties of the past.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Dun dun dun. Ghostly apparitions abound! I realize this wasn't the most exciting chapter in the history of chapters, but it's hopefully a good start. We're getting there. XD Reviews are like verbal hugs and inspire me to write! Just saying. XD Enjoy! -Witchy~
