"Idea forms in mind," Gannicus said, watching Sibyl's expression, her gaze thoughtful upon him. They sat beside the fire, shadows dancing with the light, a breeze cooling the air. The camp was settling for the evening, but a few still milled about.

She reached up and touched his rough cheek. "I would suggest taking blade to trim ends of beard. It stands unruly."

Gannicus laughed. "We stand amidst a war and you would have me shorn like a fucking sheep?"

"It but hinders ability to do this," she said, reaching up and placing her lips to his. Immediately his tongue found hers, but she pulled back.

He touched her lips with his thumb, the skin red. "It causes discomfort?"

"A little," she admitted.

He chuckled. "You comprehend I stand a gladiator?"

Her smile was amused as she pecked him upon rough cheek. "Former, yes, I know."

"Warrior then."

"Mmm hmm."

"A fucking god of the arena." His tone held no bite, resigned.

She nodded, kissing the other cheek.

"If any learn of this, I shall never hear fucking end of it."

How he found himself in position to have beard trimmed, he had no fucking idea. The woman seemed to have powers which stretched to having him do things he would never have anyone do - like trusting another to wield a blade so close to his throat. Trust.

She was gentle, having used warm cloth upon his skin before rubbing some oil to slick surface. Carefully, she used a blade to remove the hair.

"I have done this many times." He knew she uttered sentiment to ease his mind. Still he did not utter response, not wanting to move any part of his body. He noticed she struggled to contain a smile, biting on her lip to keep her laughter at bay. "My Dominas regularly needed hair trimmed or removed."

She stepped back, looking at her work, giving him opportunity to speak. "You should have taken blade to throat and slaughtered him where he sat."

"If it had been the will of the gods, I might have. Instead, I performed duty as commanded and waited to have him struck down. By you."

"I stand corrected. Outcome leading to present circumstance is definitely more pleasurable." He grinned, his smile broad, pulling her into his lap.

"Gannicus!" she admonished, rising again to complete task. He parted his thighs and she stepped between them, working more closely. He took opportunity to place his hands upon her backside and squeeze.

She gasped and reminded him, "I wield a knife."

Appropriately chided, he let her go but his eyes tracked her as she moved. Every now and then she would meet his gaze, her eyes alive with merriment. She looked happy and it gave him joy to admit that it was in part due to him. Each day he waited for feeling to fade - as such a thing must. Instead, when he rose to find her beside him, feeling overwhelmed and threatened to make a lamb of him. He had never had hand in making another happy, in wanting to make another happy. She was his first.

"The babe in camp has grown so much in short while. Kore and Laeta dote upon him as if surrogate mothers." Gannicus saw her eyes flick to his and away again, as if gauging his reaction.

"It is a squeeling little thing. It eats, shits, sleeps."

"It is a miracle," she scolded.

"A miracle that eats, shits and sleeps." She rolled her eyes and he grinned.

"Have you considered having children?" She rushed on. "I make assumption you have fathered none."

Her question surprised him; so much that he pulled back to look at her. Her expression gave naught away, leaving impression it was just a way of making conversation. But he knew talk of children was dangerous ground.

Cautiously, he said, "I have none to my knowledge and have not considered having them." Still he read nothing in her expression, her eyes not meeting his. "It is something you have considered?"

"It is something all women consider," she said lightly. Too lightly he thought. "Being born into slavery has a way of crushing such dreams."

"But you no longer stand as such – a slave," he said quietly, wondering whether she alluded to having children with him. The thought sent ice racing through his veins, something akin to panic settling in the pit of his belly. "I have never contemplated future outside the arena. I was born, would fight and then perish upon the sands. A thing such as wife and children is not something I have considered option for someone such as I. I would not have them born into this world of shit, to be slave as I once was. That is not a life," he finished.

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the scraping of the blade upon his jaw.

"Errand complete," she said, voice too bright. He put fingers to his chin, surprised by the unusually smooth feel.

"Gratitude." She moved away to place the knife in a bowl, rinsing hair from it.

"Sibyl." He reached over and gently toppled her onto his lap.

"It is nothing." He heard the strained pitch to her voice and forced her to look at him. She was clearly upset.

"Sibyl."

"Apologies."

"What weighs upon mind?"

She shook her head but words spilt forth despite effort to stave them. "I begin to realise what I have been denied as slave. Bound in chains I never had opportunity to wonder what possibilities this life could hold. I accepted I would die in such circumstance. No husband to pledge love to, no family to serve with affection. I do not know what the gods yet have in store for me, but it is almost a cruelty to dangle bone before a dog."

Gannicus pulled her to him, hugging her close. He had been honest when he said he had not thought of having children. He still did not see it as something he would desire for himself. But he knew how the desire could consume some women – he recalled the hunger for a child by his previous Domina.

"It is not the time for thinking about the future," she said. "But here, among the shit of this war, there is this pure, new being. How do I stop myself from yearning for that?"

He did not know what to say and felt out of depth. "You pray that if it is what the gods will for you, that it comes to pass."

"You pray now too, do you?" He heard the smile in her words, relieved that heavy subject has passed.

"Upon many things," he said, earnest, trying to convery much more than his words were saying.

Sibyl ran her fingers across his cheek. "This is nice."

"Is it now?" He pressed lips to her neck.

"Mmm hmm…" she began to comb her fingers through the length of his hair, tugging at the overly long strands.

"Do not think it," he cautioned and she laughed, hugging him close.

"Apologies. The hour is late but I would break words."

Sibyl looked up, seeing Spartacus at the entrance of their tent. "Please, enter. I have completed errand."

Spartacus smiled. "The mighty Gannicus, trimmed like the finest silk Rome."

Gannicus threw an amused glance in Spartacus's direction. "I but follow command of my woman."

"As it should be," he responded, smiling directly at Sibyl as she removed self from Gannicus's lap.

"Oh! Apologies. I did not know you had company." Laeta stood at entrance, her gaze upon Spartacus.

"It is as if fucking main passage to Rome passes through this very tent," Gannicus muttered for Sibyl alone. She gently prodded his ribs as he rose to stand beside her.

"I would await council around fire," Spartacus said, nodding in greeting to Laeta as he passed her, exiting the tent.

"I leave you to your private conversations." Gannicus said, giving Sibyl a quick kiss.

"Gannicus. I would break words with you," Laeta said.

He was visibly surprised. "I do not know what business we might have cause to speak upon."

"It struck mind that I never had opportunity to thank you for saving my life. In Sinuesa."

"It was but a small thing. Had you not managed to stay upon horse, we might not be having this conversation."

"That might be so, but you lent aid to save my life. You could have left me in the city. Gratitude."

Gannicus nodded, an understanding passing between them. Laeta, her errand complete, left.

"Alone at fucking last," he said, pulling Sibyl into embrace and rubbing his smooth cheek against hers. "Am I now in better state to receive much desired affections?"

Her response was to place a searing kiss on his lips, her arms winding tightly around his neck. He pulled her closer, both forgetting time and place. She was the first to pull back. "Spartacus yet awaits."

"I would have him take leave," he whispered in return, his hands roaming towards the hem of her dress.

"Gannicus."

He pulled back and glanced over his shoulder, his brow raised when he turned back to her. "Despite pressing nature of war effort, our leader seems less on edge."

"Laeta shares his bed."

He chuckled at the news. "Women make everything better."

"Really?" she raised a brow.

"The right woman," he amended.

She laughed and pushed him out. "Go. Now."

Gannicus returned when she was already half asleep. He gently woke her and she realised he was fully dressed, swords upon back.

"You take leave?" she sat up. "It is not yet dawn?"

He nodded grimly, pushing the hair from her face. "There is a small battalion at base of mountain. Spartacus would have us surprise them before dawn, allowing for greater distance placed before new wave replaces them.

She would never get used to seeing him off each day. The anxiety did not lessen, it pressed upon chest until she laid eyes upon him again.

"I will help make preparations." She made a move to get up.

"There is none to be made. Get some rest. We will be back before daybreak."

She stood nonetheless, rising on her toes to hug him close. When she pulled away, she straightened the light cloak he wore, fingering the leather straps upon his chest, their look and feel familiar to her.

"You will be careful?" she cautioned.

He grinned. "As always."

She looked to his chest again, a frayed piece of cloth catching her attention. She fingered it and he looked down to see what had caught her attention.

"Gannicus…" she breathed, her eyes had gone soft.

He touched her hand to his breast, the piece of fabric tied to one of the leather straps over his heart. "It is for luck in battle."

She reached up and kissed him deeply, pouring into him all the love she felt. Before he turned, she placed a kiss on the fabric over his heart, the very piece of fabric she had torn from her dress to bind his wounded hand when they had been trapped in Sinuesa.

He had kept it, tying it to the front of his regalia.

For luck.