Dark eyes stared into Mediterranean green.
"Im more capable than you imagine." She said lowly.
"Mm, of course you are, which is why you're currently prisoner in a Roman camp." Perseus replied, looking down his nose at her.
Her snarl died in her throat, fatigue catching up to her. Perseus stood, eyes remaining on her form.
"Now, you can help me, and I can help you. Or, You can choose to be useless, and I can throw you to the common soldier." He ordained.
Zoë stilled in fright. Her shuddering breaths being the only audible sound within the tent, her eyes glued to the floor. The Legate crouched down to her height, and pulled her hair, reeling her head back to look him in the eyes.
"Well? I'm sure Tiberius here has some pent up aggression to let out against you greek rebels." He said, motioning to his primus pilusbehind her.
Perseus saw the moment she caved, her posture slackening and head dropping. "The main camp is in a cave at the top of the tallest mountain." She whispered.
Perseus grinned in victory. "Thank you. Tiberius, you're dismissed." The soldier snapped into salute before turning and marching out, the other soldier following.
Silent tears travelled down Zoe's face. "I, and the people of Rome thank you Zoë."
She glared at him, but all the fire behind it was lost in her rough and beaten state.
Perseus turned and walked over to his bed, picking up a spare sheet and throwing it at her. "Clean yourself up, and don't leave this tent, I can't guarantee your safety if you do."
She looked up at him, confusion adorned her face. Perseus however paid her no heed, and returned to his desk. He began scribing things down before he reached over to a map of the area.
"Come here." He ordered. She stood, her soft feet patting over to him. She stood next him at the desk, before he handed her an inked stylus.
"Mark where they are." She went to move before he gripped her wrist forcefully. "Deceive me, and I will personally see to burning down this rebellion, and your entire world." He seethed.
Thoroughly intimidated, she changed the original course of the pen, and marked the location on the map.
"You have my gratitude." He praised, before rising and turning to her. He reached out and wrapped and hard arm around her, before pivoting her and pushing her into his bed. Her heart seized in nervousness as she tipped forward, but after quickly turning found him putting armour on.
She eyed him as fixed his breast plate, and strapped both his gladius and spatha to his side. He reached for his helmet, and strapped it at his hip, before striding out the tent, calling out in latin.
The steady beat of his horses' hooves was a constant sound, as was the marching of half his legion. The mountain paths had been getting thinner and thinner, and so had the width of his column.
Looking off to his right, and could see his camp down below, looking less populated, as expected, but just as busy. As they ascended the mountain, the found a small cave entrance. Perseus held up his hand, an a halting motion.
He turned to his command staff, eyes locking on a centurion. "Titus!"
"Aye sir."
"Gather some troops and begin advancing through that cave, with any luck, this connects to the rebel cave."
"Yes Sir." He replied, before motioning to a signifier and grabbing a section of troops.
The detachment broke off and marched into the cave. Perseus led his troops further up the mountain, until reaching a large plateau.
He dismounted his horse, and led his troops into the surrounding forest. They spread themselves out, casting a ring around the open area. Ahead, the Romans could hear the boisterous noises of the main Greek camp. The scale at which they operated surprised him.
Before him lay a larger camp than he had expected, and the cave clearly went a lot deeper.
He gave his men time to move around the camp, before he motioned to the trumpeter, who blasted the horn.
The surrounding forest roared to life as legionaries charged outwards, screaming battle cries.
The Greek rebels who were already armed sprang up, and hastily organised a phalanx. Legionaries crashed into the formation, and the shouts of battle filled the air.
Perseus ran through into the middle of the camp, and drove his sword through the back of a rebel diving for his spear. He yanked his sword free and raised his shield to block a strike from another rebel.
He was clearly fighting someone of rank, if their armour was anything to go by. His opponent ducked under a wide swing, leaving Perseus' sword to rake through his horsehair plume, greatly angering his opponent.
With a yell, the Greek lunged forward, only for Perseus to step into the end of the spear, driving it into the dirt, before swinging his gladius and decapitating his foe. The roman looked up and around to gain his bearings, the Greeks, more in number than expected, had formed an impromptu battle line, and were assembling a phalanx behind that, ready to fight his legion.
He turned to his reserve men and barked out some orders, who began streaming out of the forest in response, overwhelming the depleted force of unorganised rebels.
Legionaries tore through tents and murdered their occupants, spraying the remaining structures red with blood.
Without their apparent leader, felled by Percy, chaos descended and many a rebel began to rout, trying desperately to make it to the tree line. It was of no use of course, as they were run through by the small amount of cavalry he had accompanying them.
A river of blood flowed over the rough stone, meandering down the steep hill. The battle had dulled, as nearly all of the rebels had been cut down, a few surrendering to the superior Roman force.
Zoë heard the trumpet before she heard the marching of the soldiers. The tent had been mostly quiet throughout the day where the Legate had been gone. Her back was still raw from the whipping, and her new cloth was matted with dried and crusted blood.
She looked up as the tent flap was blew open. The legate returned, his armour bloodied, yet his person unharmed. He paid no attention to her as he is undid the straps on his sheaths, laying them out on the table. He removed his helmet and placed it next to them.
She watched him during all of this, his movements were refined and precise. He reached for a rag and ran it up and down his sword, cleansing it of the blood of her comrades.
She moved to adjust her seated position upon the carpeted floor, which caught his attention. He stayed silent, his eyes met hers for a moment. He reached into a pouch by his waist and pulled something out, tossing it to her.
She caught it reflexively, it was a silver chain and pendant. She looked down at it, recognising it immediately. Embossed upon it was the Greek omega symbol. The chain was from their rebellion's leader, Alexander. The smattering of blood on it revealing as to why it was no longer in his possession.
Anger overcame her, and she lunged for him in a blind fury. Yet her weakened form was no match for his own, and he caught her wrist, before kicking her legs out, the metal studs of his sandals scratching her
She collapsed to the floor as he released her wrist, Zoë placed her hands out in front of her to stop her head meeting the floor also. His sandalled foot came down upon her neck, pressing into the floor. A moment later his sword followed, the shining edge resting at her throat.
"Ad me sicut Dominus." Came the harsh order.
Refer to me as Dominus. Her head translated. The words officially relegated her to his slave, and she paused.
At the increase of pressure onto her neck she responded, in his own language. "Yes, Dominus."
Satisfied, he lifted his foot and returned to cleaning his armour and weaponry. Zoë rolled over and looked up at him as he continued his work.
Silence reigned as he did, before he put it back in, suiting up to leave the tent. As he fastened the last strap, he turned to her. She held his blazing green eyed gaze before he reached for some rope.
"Hands." He demanded. She hesitantly held them out in front of her. He seized her wrists and began binding them with the rope. He finished his knot with a harsh tug on the remaining length, of which he used to guide her out of the tent.
The light of Apollo blinded her for a brief second as she adjusted to once again being outside. The Legatus waited no time for her, and she was again tugged forward to keep pace with his brisk walk.
All round them the hustle of a Roman legion was non stop. Rows upon rows of tents filled the cliff side plateau, legionaries sat around in groups laugh by and joking with each other, others were digging the latrine trenches, those in armour guarded the prisoner pits.
They continued their pace, approaching outskirts of the camp. They veered the left, and Zoë could now see their destination. Before them lay the stables the romans had established, their mighty horses grazed and ate from troughs.
The Legate called out to one of sentries, and they entered the pen, before returning with a midnight black stallion. The handler rendered a crisp salute as the legate took the reins.
He hoisted himself up, swinging his leg over to take his position atop the horse. He took his helmet from his waist and fixed it to his head, the purple plumage was immaculate. He fixed the rope binding Zoë's hands to the side of the saddle, before he set off.
Zoë was able to match the speed the horse trotted at, and they took the wider path through the camp. As they moved, Zoë continued to look around. As the got closer to the centre, she noticed the other soldiers leading the prisoners towards the centre also.
When they reached the centre, back by the Legate's tent, before they turned to follow the widest path towards the cliff edge.
When they reached the edge, Zoë was again reminded how high the mountains were, the drop was colossal, and she struggled to make out any detail at such a distance.
The horse and rider stopped near the cliff edge, looking over to see the prisoners being paraded into the clearing behind them. Other legionaries were already there, preparing crosses.
The prisoners were lined up as officers walked up and down the ranks, randomly selecting some to come forward. On the other side of the clearing, mirroring the Legate, we're his five tribunes, also watching the proceedings.
The selected prisoners we dragged to the front of the clearing and stood in front of a cross each. Zoë tried to look away, to bury her head in the side of the great horse, but a rough and calloused hand seized the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the proceedings.
The worst part of the process was that Zoë recognised some of the men being crucified. She was forced to watch on as the crosses were raised and implanted in the ground.
The deathly silence was interrupted as one of the prisoners broke free from his bonds, and rushed one of the legionaries. Four others were stop him instantly, pushing him to the floor.
One looked towards the legate for direction. He jerker his head towards the edge in response. They hauled him up, and marched him up towards the edge, stopping to bind his ankles together. When that was done, they stood in either side of him, before throwing him off the edge of the cliff.
It would be a long time before Zoë forgot the screams. He screamed the whole way down before it stopped suddenly, the impact killing him instantly.
The crack of a whip broke the silence. A group of soldiers were whipping the prisoners indiscriminately. An legionary officer, if his armour was anything to judge by.
He was shouting at them in Greek, their native language, degrading and insulting them, jeering them over their new status as slaves.
Zoë didn't even notice that the legate and his horse had turned and were leaving, before she felt the tug on her bindings. The camp was silent as the punishment continued, aside from the screams of those under the thumb of Roman oppression.
They next few days had been quiet, Perseus was ensuring the area was cleared of resistance. The patrols had been moving further out and still encountered no resistance.
The girl, Zoë, had been quiet. Seemingly trying to come to terms with the life she now lived.
Another reason for staying had been to await the return of his messenger to the Greek governor, regarding archer auxiliaries. He was beginning to grow impatient at his desk, before the tent flap opened.
He looked up from the maps of the area, and heard the girl sit up from lying at the end of his bed. He recognised the messenger's armour.
He snapped a sharp salute, and placed the letter in front of the legate. "Response from the governor of Greece, sir."
Perseus reached to the letter, opening it up. Silence reigned as he read it. He stood from his desk, suddenly.
"Useless." He muttered. He turned back to the messenger. "Rally the legion, we leave tonight to meet Caeser."
The messenger ducked out of the tent, and minutes later the camp burst into life. He himself began loading his paperwork into boxes and gathering his equipment.
Zoë watched in silence before he approached the bed. He pulled her off and began to collapse the frame. As he did, a trio of legionaries entered, and began moving the boxes outside the tent.
Before long, the tent was empty. The legate turned to Zoë, producing manacles. "Hands." He demanded, again in Latin. Not bothering to dignify her with her own language.
She presented her hands, and he fastened the metal clamps on her wrists. They were loose, mercifully. He moved out the tent, she followed him, again finding the black horse waiting.
Percy mounted it, grabbing Zoë by the bicep and hauling her up, placing her behind him, before latching the shackles on to the back of his saddle. She sat with both legs facing off the left side of the stallion.
She watched on with the legate as the camp was brought down. The romans worked with machine like efficiency, and it was not long before the plateau again may bare, only the crucified Greeks remained.
The legate moved his horse to the middle of the columns as they descended the mountains, joining his command staff.
The thundering of marching legionaries saw Zoë to sleep atop the horse, her head resting on her new owner's back.