Summary: When Agron is captured by the Romans, Nasir dons the mantle of slave to see him freed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Spartacus, or any of the characters (more's the pity!). I'm just borrowing them! No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: This is my first Spartacus story, and I would welcome any input, particularly regarding the characterization and the language, since I would like to do it justice. Hope you enjoy!

The clash of swords against shield dominated the flat expanse of land that Donar, Nasir, and Agron used as a training ground for new recruits. Agron's commands rang out over the noise of simulated battle, with Donar barking criticism of poor efforts. Nasir was engaged with some of the newer recruits, those who needed excess training to be considered even passable.

As Spartacus approached, he noticed the ripple that ran through his people, and heard his name whispered on a multitude of lips, almost god-like in their admiration. After Gannicus's words of warning, Spartacus noticed this worshipful tone, but unable to change it for the present, he shunted the thought to the back of his mind.

Agron did not even glance at him as he approached, calling the people's attention back to him by continuing to call out positions. Spartacus stood at his side and observed progress for a few moments before speaking.

"How do they fare? Have they shown worth as predicted?"

Agron snorted derisively, "They improve, and may be ready to attack bleating goats, but much work is yet to be done."

Spartacus offered a small smile in return, asking, "Could you be spared? There is something I would have you do."

Agron looked at Spartacus, searching his face for a clue to his intent, before signaling Donar to continue the drills. He gripped Spartacus's shoulder as they walked away, "What are your thoughts?"


"And what did Spartacus want of you earlier?"

Nasir and Agron lounged in their tent, basking in the glow of earlier lovemaking. Nasir lay with his head upon Agron's chest, his hands running lazily over the German's arms clasped gently around him, holding him in place, pausing now and then to trace over scars before continuing their course.

"Nemetes, Saxa, and I are to scout a nearby villa for ranks and supplies. It should not take more than a day before we are returned, but you and Donar will need to train absent myself until I return."

Nasir smirked up at him. "You believe we cannot yell orders as well as you? Donar and I will fare just fine." He seemed to deflate then, sighing deeply before continuing, "I wish I could accompany you nonetheless."

Agron stroked his hair, and reasoned, "We will be less conspicuous in small numbers. Besides, this mission holds little danger. I shall have returned to your bed by nightfall tomorrow, and all your worries revealed as foolish stress."

"I'm sure you are right," Nasir agreed softly, though he could not silence a nagging feeling lingering in the corners of his mind as they drifted to sleep, awaiting the adventures of a new dawn.


Nasir fell asleep waiting for Agron's return, despite his growing worry. When the sun rose once more with still no word from Agron or the others, worry became outright fear. Nasir emerged from the tent he shared with Agron and went in search of Spartacus, hoping for news. When he came upon Spartacus deep in conference with Saxa and Nemetes, his heart swelled with relief. He looked around, searching for Agron's face, but found none. As he approached Spartacus and his conference, Nemetes noticed his approach, and quickly looked away. The relief that had filled Nasir's heart slowly bled away. Something was wrong.

Nasir drew even with the group, and dread grew as conversation drew to swift conclusion. "What news from the villa? Where is Agron?"

Saxa, ever defiant, simply glared in response, but Nemetes's reaction was more telling. He would not meet Nasir gaze, and began softly, "Nasir…"

When he would not continue, Nasir growled angrily, "Find fucking voice!"

"We were discovered by the Romans in the city. Agron fought to give us time to retreat, but he was recognized by the mark he bears. The city descended upon him, he was unable to escape."

Fuck the gods. The ground fell out from beneath Nasir's feet, and he fell to his knees in search of it. He took a steadying breath before asking, "Does he yet live?"

Nemetes glanced at Spartacus before answering.

"Yes." Nasir could breathe again. "His execution is set for three days hence." He stopped, as if he were to continue, but thought better of it. Nasir would have none of it. He took a deep breath, regained his feet, and glared at Nemetes.

"What do you keep hidden?"

"He is meant as a lure to bring Spartacus from the shadows."

Nasir turned to Spartacus, "And what are your thoughts?"

Spartacus looked at him, pity and empathy in his eyes. Nasir simply glared back, awaiting response.

"Nasir," Spartacus said, speaking softly as if to lower volume was to lessen the blow words would inflict, "I can do nothing without further endangering his life. They will be expecting me, and I do not have enough knowledge of this villa to reach him or see him safely returned. Agron is prepared for this. I am truly sorry."

He reached out to clasp Nasir's shoulder, and forced him to look into his eyes. Spartacus looked at Nasir, sadness and grief battling with the pity as he admitted, almost to himself as much as Nasir, "There is nothing I can do."

Nasir's face revealed nothing. "I understand," he said simply, before pulling away and walking stiffly back to his tent.

Nemetes looked shocked at Nasir's callousness toward his lover's imminent demise, but Saxa and Spartacus watched him go more sadly. Saxa voiced Spartacus's thoughts, looking to Spartacus with pity of her own, "He may understand, but he does not forgive. You may lose him for this."

Spartacus sighed, "He will not be the only one. Gannicus warned that people begin to look to me as a god. Now they will know I am but a man. Perhaps that is for the best, to dash their delusions before worship grows too great." With that, he walked back to his own tent, to mourn the loss of friend and general before worldly concerns prevented him.


Nasir walked back to his tent, his face emotionless. All those who saw him took a step back, though it was beyond his notice. They did not step back in respect for his grief, or for respect of the man, for no one yet knew of his loss. But Nasir's eyes burned with a cold rage and driven purpose, and all with wits still left to them intuitively removed themselves from his path. He returned to his tent, but he did not mourn. He did not tremble in fear or loss. Spartacus said he could do nothing to save Agron, that the Roman shits expected that and it would serve no purpose. Very well. That may be true, who was Nasir to say?

The Romans planned for Spartacus, but they would not be expecting Nasir.