Cicero paced the length of the large, animal skin tent. He had been walking in circles for hours. Back, and forth, around the table and back again. Waiting, watching, hoping that Thaletas would be okay. He prayed for any kind of movement and would jump every time he saw Thaletas's hand twitch or when he heard the fragile whisper of a breath.

The Spartan camp was not Cicero's initial place of refuge for the injured general, but as they rode down the slopes of Delos, it was blatantly clear that Thaletas would not survive the ride back to the Spyro, leaving him no other choice. However, he was grateful for what he had and the Soldiers were more than willing to help, doing whatever was asked of them to ensure Thaletas's survival.

They did what they could for him in terms of comfort, dressing his wounds and cleaning the blood that soaked his sunburned skin. But the rest was up to Thaletas, and Cicero feared that without the god's help, he would surely die, leaving Cicero to take his place in charge of the Spartan phalanx.

Cicero paused and raked his hand through his dark curls. "He can't die," he told himself, "you can't let him die." He took a deep breath, the distant scent of rain flooding through him like a storm. There had to be something he missed. Something more he could do. Then, as if queued, a large crack of thunder shook through the sky. Cicero closed his eyes as the rumble of the clouds echoed in the distance. The sound takes him back to a place he wished he could forget.

He had been fighting the idea since he had found Thaletas by the cliff. The idea that there was something he could do, or rather, something Aleera could do that would save him. But the thought of asking her sent chills down his spine. He knew how much she had to sacrifice to save him after the battle of Epidauros, and he wasn't nearly as injured as Thaletas.

But still…

Cicero forced the thought away with a frustrated sigh. He waded towards Thaletas and took a moment to examine him for the millionth time since they arrived. His dark hair was tamed by the bandage around his forehead and his deep brown eyes were hidden behind the sanctity of his eyelids. He looked so peaceful while laying there, as if unbothered by his wounds and completely at peace in his mind.

Was this the way it was meant to be? That Cicero and Thaletas were simply playing their part in a much larger play that only the gods could change. For so long, Cicero had been fighting against Aleera's prophecy, distancing himself just enough from the Spartans so he could easily let go. But maybe, it was time for him to stop fighting and embrace the opportunities he had been given, instead of living in fear of what he couldn't control.

"No."

Cicero shook the thoughts from his mind. He had become so lost in the silence that he barely noticed that his hand had woven its way between Thatetas's fingers. He paused, his breath skipping in his lungs. He could feel Thaletas's nerves dance under his fingertips, twitching in response to his touch as if to remind him that he was still alive.

"Be still, Thaletas," Cicero whispered, "Save your strength for when I can not be by your side." He reached over and stroked Thaletas's stubbled jaw. He couldn't stay with him forever, and just sitting there watching him wasn't doing anything to help his recovery.

Cicero sucked in a breath and forced himself to step away, the rumbling thunder beckoning him to go outside. He paused briefly by the exit and looked over his shoulder, mumbling a small prayer to the gods, asking them to watch over Thaletas in his absence.

As he emerged from the tent he was amazed to see the entire phalanx standing before him. Alpheus, the most experienced and well-trained among them, was standing in front. He held a spear in one hand and had Thaletas's helmet under his opposite arm. His war harned features were unnaturally soft and while his brown-eyed gaze remained focused, Cicero could see the glint of sadness within them.

Cicero cleared his throat and tightened his expression. He straightened his posture and lifted his chest slightly, "Stand guard until I get back, whoever did this might try and finish the job." he ordered. He waited for Alpheus to accept the command before leaving, but to his dismay, the Spartan lifted his head and stood still.

"Cicero, if something should happen..: Alpheus began.

Cicero scrunched his nose, " nothing is going to happen to Thatletas, I can promise you that." he growled.

There was a hush that fell over them. Nothing but the distant sound of rain could be heard. Alpheus cleared his throat and inhaled a breath of confidence, "Even if Thaletas were to make a full recovery, I can not help but doubt his ability to lead the Phalanx as effectively as he once had. This is not the first time he has been injured since coming to these islands, he's…"

"If you plan to slander your general's reputation, I suggest you rethink what you are about to say. Thaletas is a fierce fighter and an admirable leader.."

"And so are you," Alpheus interjected. He immediately fell to one knee as a pledge of allegiance to Cicero. The others were quick to follow, row by row they fell like a crashing wave. "Which is why we ask that you lead us in this fight against Poldarkes and whatever battles may ensue as a result."

Cicero's mouth dried, and his mind flooded with images of the army he commanded. The faces of the men before him had morphed into those of the young spartans he had lost, their bright eyes positive spirits, and positive spirits forever haunting him. Cicer never again wanted to feel the guilt of losing a soldier, the amount of shame that their death brought to him was unbearable. He shook the demons away, but the question remained. How could he deny Alpheus's request? These men, once devoted to Thaletas, wanted to put their fate in Cicero's hands, trusting him to take them to victory while only knowing him for a short period.

And what about Thaletas? Would he feel betrayed? What about Aleera? The Prophecy? If he were to accept this offer, what would become of their relationship? He loved her, unconditionally and in a way that could never be changed no matter what came between them. What they had been through, what they shared, could never be undone.

Cicero grit his teeth and forces moisture back into his mouth. He stepped toward Alpheus and motioned for him to stand. He was shorter than Cicero, but what he lacked in his height he made up for with lean muscle. He reminded him very much of his namesake. A strong, square jaw and waving brown tresses that were carefully tied back behind his ears. He was the best fighter compared to his colleagues and showed extreme promise in working through the ranks. If there were to be a replacement for Thaletas, he would surely be the best option. Which had Cicero wonder why they chose him instead.

"Do the others share this sentiment?" Cicero asked in a hushed voice. He kept his gaze away from Alpheus and focused instead on the men who knelt before him.

"There is not one man among us who feels differently. You have proven your loyalty to Thaletas and Sparta. You have trained us harder and with more passion than any other general has before," He paused. His rough voice turned soft and lowered to something more than a whisper, "We all know who you are, Cicero, who you were, and what you did for our home. We would be honored to have you lead us as you lead the armies in Argolis."

That caught Cicero's attention. He snapped his eyes towards Alpheus. His stare was dark like the ominous clouds that surrounded them, "You may know my past, Alpheus, but you don't know the burden of taking on such a task." He could feel his heartache with the thought of what he wanted to say. There was a part of him that wanted to accept this offer, to correct his mistakes from years ago. As if leading Thaletas's Spartans would atone for the sins of losing the others.

Cicero bit his lower lip and took a deep, slow breath. He stepped away from Alpheus and addressed the Phalanx together. His heart raced, and his blood burned. His body was stiff but his mind was clear. One more breath, then he began to speak, "I am honored by your faith and your willingness to accept me as your general. In these past months, I have watched every one of you push past your limits in both physical training and strategic planning, every day more eager than the last. While Thaletas may not have expressed it, I know he takes great pride in calling each of you his brothers," He paused to clear his throat, taking a glance over his shoulder at the medical tent, "His family."

Cicero motioned for the men to rise to their feet, but did nothing to dismiss them. He looked back at Alpheus and said, "Have some men stand guard until I get back." He began to walk towards Eros, who was already pawing at the ground in anticipation.

Alpheus scrunched his nose and followed Cicero, irritated with the lack of clarity in his words "Does this mean you accept?" he asked eagerly.

Cicero pet Eros's auburn coat and mumbled a few words. He didn't turn to acknowledge Alpheus, but gave him and the others the clearest answer he could, " I will do what you have asked of me, only if Thaletas has given his support. However, if there is to be a battle before that is possible, you can trust that I will act accordingly." he mounted the horse and took the reins in his hands.

But Alpheus was not quite satisfied, and rounded Eros and snatched the thick leather reins, "Cicero," he began in a soft voice, "you know as well as I the severity of Thaletas's wounds, it's not likely that he will make a full recovery."

Cicero eyed him with an intense stare "he's right" he finally admitted to himself, "Thaletas's future lies in the hands of fate." he sighed.

"Hmph." Alpheus released the reins and gave Eros a quick pat, " I suppose I already know where you're headed then."

Thunder clapped through the sky and commanded Cicero to look at the sky, " I'm going to make a sacrifice to the gods, and pray that they answer."