The first few weeks of a newborn's life are fraught with peril in turbulent times. During those times, the most innocent were the most vulnerable to death and disease. Laeta fretted over Lysander's health and safety those first few weeks. She could not bear the idea of losing him to fever or mishap.

However, her fears were unfounded, for Lysander proved to be as resilient as his father had been resourceful. It would only be a matter of time before she would know just how much like his father he would be. At this point, like his father, he commanded the attention of all within any room he entered. Laeta fashioned a sling to be able to keep him close to her for his first month of life. As the weeks moved forward, she would relinquish him to the care of Sybil. Even Nasir and Agron took opportunities to fuss over the boy.

The weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years. Lysander developed into a precocious toddler, who found ways to vex his mother she had not known were possible. He formed words quickly and soon identified those around him by name. While Laeta was undoubtedly his mother, Agron, Nasir, nor Laeta wished for Lysander to not know his father. However, they had to come up with a story to tell him, one that would allow them to share their love and respect of Spartacus with his only son, but also protect the boy, who would innocently and easily slip and tell the world the truth of who his father was, if he were to be told the truth.

And so it was. They discussed their plan for their story, ensuring they were clear in its simplicity; for this lie must last until it was time to tell Lysander the truth when he was matured to a man. Only then could they tell him. Laeta agonized over the damage their lie might cause, especially if they intended to tell him the truth in the future.

"Perhaps we will never find cause to tell him the truth." Agron volunteered. Laeta only half-heartedly laughed at his suggestion.

"And how with that be? Will you not teach him the ways of battle and sword? With the two of you to guide him, he will without doubt become like all men, thirsty for war and conflict. A mortal wound which haunts every mother's heart knowing one day her son will long for such." Laeta spoke forcefully to Nasir and Agron, her eyes striking at them both. She took a deep breath to calm herself, glancing at the boy who played quietly with wooden toys Nasir had fashioned for him. "But that dawn is far from this day. I would have us agree to this tale, if only to protect him." Agron and Nasir nodded in agreement, as they set forth on this path.

As expected, Lysander grew quickly and the days sweep up in the rapid clock of time. Laeta and Nasir both worked diligent to teach Lysander his letters, numbers, reading, and history. Agron and Nasir also took on the responsibility of beginning to train Lysander in the use of sword, shield, and pike. Lysander, like his father excelled at all, demonstrating an affinity for the use of two swords. He proved to be apt pupil under their tutelage. He was quick with a witty remark or quip in response to an insult, much like his mother's ability with verbal barbs, but equally lethal when his anger was roused. A lanky young man, he was much admired by many of the young women from the surrounding areas. More than once Agron had to pull Lysander from a compromising position before a young woman's father was upon them both.

As the lank of youth evolved to the strength and muscle of a man, Laeta noticed Lysander less and less favored her golden coloring. His hair had turned from a reddish-golden color to a darkened blonde due to years of sword practice in the sun. His eyes a deeper blue-green than her own. Even as his voice deepened, she began to hear HIS voice. At times, it was more to bear.

On many occasion, Laeta sat and watched Nasir and Agron teach Lysander the ways of combat. Laeta quietly sat as she watched, Agron walking over, sitting next to him, staring at the young boy now a man. Agron stared forward as he spoke to Laeta.

"He talks of joining the Goth auxiliary." Agron looked over his shoulder to Laeta, who paused in her work, to stare first at Agron, then to her son as he japed and swiped at Nasir seriously.

"His friends are joining as well. Lysander is anxious to join them." Agron continued.

"Of course he does, they are his friends. And you have trained him well to thirst for war." Laeta spoke accusingly. Laeta's heart clinched as she realized the time had come to tell Lysander the truth. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she rejoiced in knowing that their collective lie would end.

"The lie ends tonight then." Laeta stated somberly. Agron nodded and walked back to Lysander and Nasir. Laeta walked away searching for some clarity to the purpose the gods had set her upon.

The hilltop was the place she came when she needed time to think. It was a place she had found which was high enough that she could see the Alps far off in the distance, and on a clear day, just a sliver of the Italian peninsula. She would imagine she could see his resting place, Agron's shield resting as silent sentinel. She sat upon the wooden seat she had brought up her to sit upon over the years. A little more than a year after Lysander birth, Laeta brought Lysander to this place. She placed him on her knee, facing him toward the place she remembered for its joy and heartbreak. Back then, Lysander would coo and giggle as she bounced him about in a mother's enjoyment of her son. How she had wished in those moments that Spartacus was there with her. She would imagine him holding Lysander in pride and love, looking to her with gratitude and caring.

Now she sat rewinding the moments in her life since she encountered Spartacus and his rebel army. Times she had wished for his fall from victory, all the way to her prayer of his triumph over Crassus and Rome. Her eyes drifted shut, as she was want to do when she remembered her lover, Spartacus. Their time was so brief together, but the moments were etched deeply in her memory, none more so than the one the night before the final battle.

Laeta's neck, arm and back muscles ached from the weaving of stiff wooden tree limbs into mats to cover the deep drench Spartacus and his men had dug. Everyone was tasked to assist. The children gathered limbs as they were hacked off and divided by size. Laeta had suggested the use of the children to provide some sort of activity for them to be part of the rebellion. Laeta recalled watching Spartacus himself show the children what and how task of sorting and gathering of the limbs was to be done. It became quite a game to see who could draw the approval of the Bringer of Rain. Spartacus clearly enjoyed the children's efforts to be part of the rebellion, while still ensuring they were far from harm's way. He praised each child individually, even if they did not do as much as some of the others. It was a common sight for Spartacus to take interest in the children, especially now that Laeta had become more involved in their welfare. He knew many by name, but there were so many, even he begged for mercy when Laeta quizzed him. So many, he would often comment to Laeta. So many fatherless and motherless children who deserved none of what fate had handed them. Laeta knew it weighted heavily on Spartacus' shoulders. She often thought Spartacus would be a wonderful father. He was caring, patient, yet commanded with respect.

Laeta entered the tent she now shared with Spartacus. Most nights, Laeta would fall exhausted onto the sleeping platform at the back of the tent. Typically, Spartacus would quietly join her late in the evening. By morning, Laeta would awaken curled up against Spartacus' side, or his arm draped around her waist, clutching her body up against his own. She would quietly rise at those times, determined not to disturb him, for she was unaware of when he finally allowed sleep to claim him.

Laeta walked toward the bed, but decided to sit at the table where all the maps and battle plans lay. She peered curiously across all the maps. She noticed another map, seemingly new and unused beneath all the careworn others. She slid it out from underneath the others, reading the name scrawled across the land markings. Thracia. She had heard of the place, she knew Spartacus hailed from the region. Laeta ran her fingers over the name softly, while rubbing the muscles of her neck with the other. Perhaps this is where Spartacus intents to take them, Laeta thought. But she dismissed the thought; Spartacus could not return to his homeland, they would surely look for them there. Them. Us. Concepts that just a few weeks ago, Laeta would have laughed at. The thought of her, a Roman woman, seeking refuge and solace in the arms of Spartacus. A smile broke her lips as she remembered their first meeting in her now-dead husband's grain market. She was not one to openly flirt with another man, but even then, Spartacus made an impressive impression. Something deep within her had told her to be wary of the man, but another part pulled her closer.

The memories flooded back as Laeta reached back to pull her hair over her shoulder and gain access to the rest of her sore muscles. She closed her eyes in heartbreak, knowing tomorrow they would part ways, perhaps forever and the smile faded from her lips.

"What thoughts cause such happiness to fade from your lips?" Spartacus asked as his hands took the place of Laeta's, massaging her neck and shoulder muscles. Laeta had heard someone come in, but it was too early for Spartacus and with so much to do, she assumed it was someone else other than the man himself. Laeta's eyes opened, as she glance over her shoulder at the Bringer of Rain. A curious and caring smile upon his face, causing a dimple to be defined beneath his rough beard, met her gaze as his hands continued their administrations. Laeta turned back forward, allowing herself to enjoy his presence and loving hands.

"I was thinking of our first meeting. In the grain market. In Sinuessa." Laeta spoke honestly to him as chills of pleasure ran up and down her spine. Feeling the shivers upon her body, Spartacus leaned down, his mouth a whisper from her ear and bar neck exposed by her hair being pulled to one side.

"And what was your impression of our first meeting?" Spartacus whispered his hot breath soft against her neck.

"Anticipation." Laeta spoke breathlessly as Spartacus' lips followed where his hands had just been. He smiled softly as her breath caught as his hand moved the strap of her dress off her shoulder, nipping at the flesh exposed. Laeta turned her head towards Spartacus, her lips seeking his. Their lips meet softly as they deepen the kiss slowly. Laeta's hand tenderly caresses Spartacus' cheek, as their foreheads meet, their breaths mingling in the night air. The map catches Spartacus' eye, and he turns toward it, bringing Laeta with him.

"Would you return to Thrace when you are triumphant?" Laeta asked softly as Spartacus gazed intensely at the map of this homeland. Spartacus face split in a full smile, glancing back at Laeta's soft, caring gaze.

"Do you pierce the veil of the future to divine our future?" Spartacus asked he stroked Laeta's cheek.

"No, but I hope that my prophecy bears truth." Laeta spoke sincerely. Spartacus nods in acknowledgement, but not in agreement, his smile fading slowly.

"Come. Tomorrow we part ways. I would have this night be worthy of your memory long after you pass into your elder years."

"And I would wish the same for you." Laeta responded as Spartacus took her hand as he led Laeta out of the tent and away from the camp. He passed by Agron, nodding in acknowledgement. Laeta ducked her head in modesty, but knew Agron was more than aware of her physical relationship with Spartacus.

"Where are we going?" Laeta asked as they walked, hand in hand, leaving the camp behind. Spartacus said nothing, only smiled as they finally reached their destination. Spartacus gingerly made his way down between the boulders and stones that created an enclosed space. Laeta hear the water before she saw it. She looked down as the journeyed down towards the sound to a shallow pool where the nearby river had split off to create a small lagoon. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen and a worthy place to make a memory to last her a lifetime.