Dear Readers,

Heart breaks as finale looms. I pray for tender embrace, words and acts of love.

Gratitude for time taken to review. It always lifts spirit.

Love.

PS: If you want to fangirl about gannibyl, find me on tumblr: sweetrupturedlight. There can never be enough of the squee :)


The sun had not yet crested from behind the mountain when Gannicus, Spartacus and a group of their most skilled warriors attacked the small assembly of Roman soldiers who had made camp at the base of the mountain. The clash was quick and efficient, the rebels feeling the usual rush accompanying any Roman killed.

Upon closer inspection, Spartacus realised the slain soldiers did not carry the mark of Marcus Crassus. Instead, they bore mark of one not recognised by the leader or his generals.

"Bind the bodies and see them returned to camp. They might yet serve purpose," Spartacus called to the others, turning to Gannicus. "Their mark is not familiar."

Gannicus nodded, a frown of worry settled upon brow. "They stand fucking Roman. Perhaps one once Roman within our midst might shed light." Spartacus nodded and Gannicus grinned. "Laeta. Your woman."

The Celt's laughter boomed loudly. The Thracian remained stoic.


The day proved to be a hot one. By the time they rode back into camp, hour was still early, yet heat rose from ground as if the earth's core were on fire.

"I will see to Laeta," Gannicus called to Spartacus as he moved away, knowing where the woman might be.

Spartacus recognised Gannicus's need to see Sibyl and set his woman's mind at ease. As a reminder, hence his general become distracted, he called, "I would have you present in discussion."

He nodded, making way to his tent. As had become custom, Laeta, Kore and Sibyl took their morning meal together. He saw their bond as that of sisters, each very different from the other in temperament and look, but finding common ground in shared experience. Much like he had when he once lived and fought within the House of Batiatus. As anticipated, he found them upon open ground, enjoying meal in the shade.

He noticed Sibyl's eyes light up when she saw him, her relief palpable. It never failed to surprise just how much she cared for him. Almost as much, he suspected, as he did for her.

"Spartacus would break words," he said to Laeta. She looked surprised. "We encountered soldiers at base of mountain. They do not carry the mark of Crassus. He would welcome knowledge you might hold upon subject."

"Of course."

He nodded to Kore, but leaned down and gave his woman a proper kiss in greeting before following Laeta's path.


Laeta walked into the tent, her vision initially compromised when walking from sharp sunlight into dim interior. Her eyes sought and found its objective; Spartacus shared quiet words with Lugo.

He saw her and she gifted him with a small, tentative smile. She was a woman, not a naïve young girl, and yet her heart still raced like horse embracing full gallop whenever she looked upon him. Gannicus had entered behind her, pouring himself a cup of wine.

"You would have words?"

"Gratitude." Walking over, he gestured to the armour upon table. "We discovered sentries at the base of the mountain. Their armour does not carry expected mark."

Laeta looked at the dented armour, its previous owner no doubt ushered into the afterlife if bloodied stains spoke truthfully. She saw the insignia and her breath caught, her eyes filled with concern when it met his.

"The eagle and the dolphin. I have laid eyes upon crest before. The mark of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus."

"Pompey," Spartacus replied gravely.

"A master of both land and sea. My husband spoke with great admiration of the man, bending tongue to welcome him as Rome's greatest warrior." Laeta tried to hide the panic which rose within her. If his reputation was to be believed, Pompey was a huge threat to the slave rebellion.

"I have heard tale of his conquests and name of adolescent butcher given him." Spartacus's tone held no fear, just grim determination.

"We shall butcher bird and fish," said Lugo who had stood silent till then.

Gannicus stepped forward, pitcher of wine swinging from his hand. "I thought Pompey mired in Hispania against the renegade Sertorius; his absence the reason Crassus took up arms against us?"

Laeta did not miss Gannicus's frown, nor unsettled tone. She looked to Spartacus, but he stood unfathomable as ever.

"Pompey's scouts return to the republic. As night follows day, the man and his legions will trail in his shadow."

Laeta looked from one to the other, unable to dispel ominous portent which settled upon her.

"Spartacus, a rider approaches!" Nasir stood at entrance, the tense stance of limbs giving credence to words.

She watched Spartacus and Gannicus share troubled thought. As they made way towards exit, Spartacus stopped briefly at her side. "Find Sibyl and Kore. Stave panic but stay close until further instruction is received."

She nodded but he was already moving, issuing firm order for the rebel army to assume combat formation.

Laeta looked in his direction, determined stride moving him from her and made haste towards her friends, unsettling feeling only intensifying.


Gannicus felt energy surge through his body as he marched ahead of Spartacus. He could not believe Crassus would send riders to meet them when advantage would so clearly be theirs. But when close enough to see intruder, eyes widened in disbelief. A lone rider approached. "They wear cloak of the fucking legion!"

Spartacus halted beside him, his eyes squinting in the distance. "That is no Roman," he whispered.

As they watched, the rider slumped over horse, hovering as sun did before it dipped quietly beneath horizon. Eventually, the person fell from mount, landing with heavy thud upon dusty ground.

Gannicus and Spartacus, acting as one mind, raced towards the body now lying upon the ground. Fine dust and sand billowed where body had fallen, given life by the passing breeze.

The sight that greeted them sent chills into his soul. Gannicus recognised Naevia as rider who fell from steed. Beside her lay the grey faced head of his brother, Crixus. For a moment, he closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the gods. Rage and anguish warred within, rendering limbs initially immobile.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder and met his stricken leader's eyes; both stood unconvinced it was trick of light that made each man's eyes shimmer with grief.


Still cradling her lovers severed head, Naevia sat as still as the trees absent wind to give life and move them. Gannicus watched as Spartacus poured wine into a cup, urging her to break her fast. Her complexion was pale, her golden glow dimmed, the world having lost its meaning. Her fiery nature and temperament stood absent; a shell of her former self, much like Oenamaus had stood when Melitta had been taken from his arms.

Gannicus found himself overwhelmed with emotion, swallowing past grievous lump of stone in throat. Although he knew outcome likely the day they had marched for Rome, he acknowledged that he had nursed hope that the fearless Gaul would accomplish ambitious scheme. To see his head, now cold and severed, light extinguished forever from previously bright eyes, he felt the weight of all that must be accomplished if this war was to be won.

He stood silent as he watched Spartacus take Crixus's head, cradling it as gently as Naevia had. "It was his end as he always dreamed," he said, unaware of the anguish his tone carried.

"In battle, yes. Though robbed of glory," Naevia replied, tears shimmering in her eyes.

With little reign on rampant emotion, she recalled how Crixus fell. Near end of tale, her eyes once again filled and her tears fell like pouring rain.

Gannicus felt a deep rage and vengeance stir within his breast. He tried to temper it, but not before, "fucking boy!" passed from lips. It was greatest insult to be killed thus, without the honour of fair contest. It was what gladiators yearned for. And what Crixus had deserved.

"What of Agron?" Gannicus turned and saw Nasir standing at entrance, his gaze fixed upon Naevia. He looked away, not hearing the rest of exchange. The look upon the face of the young warrior did much to further unsettle mind. This war promised freedom, he mused. But what would it cost? Would those who survived stand able to revel in achievement? Or would it ring as hollow as Naevia and Nasir's hearts now stood, absent the people they loved most in the world.

Gannicus thought of Sibyl. Would they stand together and taste freedom? Or would one be forced to live life without the other? Throat closed again as he realised that for him, such a thing stood as impossible.

Spartacus had taken moment to step into view. Gannicus read his expression. "Crassus attempts to goad you into foolish action."

"Set purpose towards more pressing concern."

"Pompey?" Gannicus guessed.

"Scouts were headed south towards Crassus's legions. He will send more when they do not return."

Gannicus steeled his nerves. "We cannot afford to be caught between two armies fighting as one."

"No, we cannot."

"Idea forms upon mind," he said, almost able to see blur of thought.

"I would see us lure Crassus under guise of meeting with Pompey. And in so doing-"

"Send him to meet the gods in the afterlife," Gannicus finished, a smile forming. "It is bold plan. One that has slim chance of success."

Spartacus cocked his head to the side, similar smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The kind you greatly desire."

Gannicus's smile grew. "What then would you have us do?"


Sibyl walked back from the river, her nightly ritual and ablution complete. She had left Kore behind, eager to see Gannicus. She had not laid eyes upon him since he had departed with Laeta earlier that morning, the other woman briefly telling her about the impending arrival of Pompey.

She slowed as Naevia passed her, the warrior not even observing her presence. She looked ashen and withdrawn, her lips drawn tightly, her arms clasping her cloak to her body in too tight a fashion. News of Crixus's demise had spread through the camp, creating panic among some. They had lost one of their most ferocious warriors. Many saw it as a bad omen from the gods.

Sibyl wished to lend comforting word, but felt time was not right. Naevia's grief was yet too fresh. She would seek better opportunity when words might be better received.

"I have searched for you."

She turned and saw Gannicus take the last steps towards her. He looked uncharacteristically tired; his broad shoulders seemed heavy, laden with unseen burden.

"I make way to search for you."

"We are of like mind then." His smile held no warmth and her eyes softened, deeply aware of all he must feel within heart. "She has not broken words?" He gestured to Naevia who continued upon path.

"No, eyes did not see me. I stood as ghost. I did not wish to disturb her musings."

They watched Naevia until she was from sight. Sibyl put a hand to his shoulder, calling him from own private thoughts. "You stand equally distant?"

His expression was grim, but his eyes now held warmth when they looked upon her. "Day has been long and news less than desirable. I would spend quiet evening with you."

"Come." She wrapped her arm around his waist as he did hers. Together, they walked in the fading light, each contemplating what more this war would claim as sacrifice.


Kore brought water to her face, ready to wash at days sweat and grime. The crunch of footsteps saw her lift head and greet visitor. Naevia. Her heart seized a little, unsure of appropriate sentiment to give voice. The woman's gaze was direct, her eyes blazing with depth of emotions. Kore felt effect of crippling sorrow that surrounded her, as if she were mere moments from decent into madness.

"You were slave to Marcus Crassus," Naevia said. A statement. "The one that slipped upon Melia Ridge." Kore nodded. "I heard rumour you were favoured by him."

"There stood such a time," she whispered, unable to read Naevia's expression, a little afraid.

"Then you were of a closeness to him before you fled?"

Kore licked her lips, her throat had gone dry. "I shared his tent that night. I took knife and slipped from presence while he slept." Was it possible to be so ravaged by the loss of love? She had only to think of her own yearning for Marcus to know the truth of it. But he yet stood alive in this world. And though they were parted, it brought comfort to know his heart yet beat.

"Why did you not seize opportunity and end his life? If Crassus had fallen that night, then Crixus would yet be of this world."

Kore read the desperation in Naevia's eyes and her heart broke in two. Tears raced down Naevia's cheeks, falling from her chin and cooling the scorched earth below. "I am moved by your loss, yet I cannot be held for it," she said gently.

"We are all held for our actions. The choices we make, the things that we do… and those that we should have."

"You cannot reverse the sun. Nor relive days past." Kore felt tears sting the back of her own eyes and tried to stem their tide.

"No. We can but brace against uncertain future. And when moment presents, balance scale against those who have most deeply wounded heart."

She watched as Naevia turned away, walking back the way she had come. Kore turned away and clasped her hands to her chest, feeling pressure of tears sting - and then fall. She looked around, but no one else came her way. No one to witness her silent devastation.

In the fading light, Kore cried. She cried for Naevia and the pain she would bare for as long as she drew breath. She cried for Crixus and the cruel way he was forced to depart this world. She cried for herself, for her heart and for the man she still loved. A man who stood as enemy.

Marcus.


"Tomorrow, we move to capture Crassus," Gannicus whispered as they lay together upon cool grass. Night had descended, fire burning low. The evening was as hot as the day had been and cool breeze did much to sooth frazzled emotions.

He lay on his back, gazing at the stars, one hand behind his head, the other arm a cushion for her head as she lay facing him. Sibyl nestled closer, her breath cool upon his chest.

"Is such a thing even possible?" she asked softly, her words carrying to him on the breeze.

"Spartacus believes it. Plan is well made."

"Who goes with him?" She placed her hand over his chest, moving smoothly across it to gently pull his face to look at her.

"But a handful. We cannot take legions." Her compassion and understanding radiated out of her, bathing him in soothing balm.

"Marcus Crassus will be well protected."

"This is expected. We will have element of surprise." He ran his hand across her cheek and saw her eyes soften. There were many questions there, he could tell. But she held them back, a thing he appreciated. His grief was yet too near, he could not share it yet, even with her.

Gannicus rolled her onto her back and buried his face in her neck, her arms enveloping him automatically. She held him close, running her hands through his hair, laying soothing kisses wherever lips allowed.

With each stroke of her hand, with each whispered word of love, with each gentle kiss, slowly, he felt the firm grip of sorrow ease its strangle hold. He began to breathe again.