Note from Kanuro5: Greetings everyone! This is the penultimate chapter of Invictus. I received several messages commenting on this "sudden stoppage" of the story. Well it's not stopping, technically, but it's ending. This story is coming to its conclusion after nearly 3 1/2 years of me writing this. So with that all said, please enjoy!

XLII

The Return

Lemonum, Eastern Gallia

A slave had just laid out a tray of food before Titus Aufidius, the Prefect of Lemonum, for his midday supper. The prefect usually enjoyed a succulent meal of freshly baked bread, juicy and ripe grapes, and cooked beef on the side. Aufidius was a man of gluttonous tastes and demanded that his slaves cook double the portions of a standard meal. And as he ate his supper, he required entertainment to "ease his digestion". And so, a nubile slave girl who was scantily clad, came before him and danced.

As the slave girl danced in front of him for several minutes, he stuck his greasy finger inside of her and smiled. She winced and clenched her eyes, and began to tremble, but the prefect ordered her to keep dancing with his finger inside of her. She complied, yet her dancing movements were stiff and awkward. Aufidius was growing angry, he stuck another finger within her and demanded she dance better. The girl put more effort into the dance as the prefect began moving his fingers while he chewed on a delectable sausage.

A militiaman from the Town Watch sprang into the prefect's home, Aufidius nearly choked on his sausage.

"Bona Dea! Why must you disturb me?!" Aufidius roared.

"A thousand apologies, Prefect! But we've received reports from the port of a fleet of unidentified ships heading right for the port. We believe them to be pirates!"

Aufidius pushed the dancer away and grabbed his sword and armor and followed the man towards the port. The Town Watch of Lemonum were ordering all civilians to take shelter in their homes from the approaching pirate raid, several of the civilians ignored the advice of the militia and ran to the port to bear witness to the incoming pirates.

At the port, the merchants and civilians were still lingering, busy closing down their stalls and collecting their goods. They would be damned if the pirates seized their livelihood. For all of his vices, Aufidius could not be labeled a coward. He drew his sword and rallied the militiamen present to take up defensive positions and to mount the ballistae that were transfixed on the edge of the port to sink any approaching ship up to 100 meters. He swore that no pirate would get close to the port as long as the Town Watch drew breath, and the militiamen roared in solidarity.

Out of the ocean fog came a single ship, then two more, than three more; before Aufidius realized it, 20 ships were approaching the port all flying different sails, none of them affiliated with Rome. The prefect held his sword in the air, prepared to give the order for the ballistae to fire on the closest ship.

Ba-Ba-Bum, Ba-Ba-Buuuuum-Ba-Bummmm

Aufidius halted. He was blinking incredulously, he believed he was hearing things. It sounded as if it came from that pirate fleet…

Ba-Ba-Bum, Ba-Ba-Buuuuum-Ba-Bummmm

There it was again. That was a legionary cadence and it was clearly Roman horns that were playing it. What did it mean? P-Perhaps I shall…

Aufidius told his men to hold. He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that he should at least wait to discover why pirates were blowing legionary cadences. And so the Town Watch were on the ready as the pirate fleet came closer to Lemonum, yet only two ships out of the 20 actually came into the port, the remainder stayed outside the port and seemingly anchored in the middle of the ocean, as if they were waiting for the two ships to return.

Ba-Ba-Bum, Ba-Ba-Buuuuum-Ba-Bummmm

The cadence came from the lead ship entering the port. From the deck of the ships, the crimson banner of the Twenty-Eighth legion shot high within the ship and the legionaries marched to side, staring down at the crowd that has gathered at the port. Aside from the banner, the Eagle of the Legion was raised high in the air for all the onlookers to marvel at. The second ship that was farther out raised the purple banner of the Senate above the deck and so too were five Legionary Eagles as well that were raised high. The portmaster asked if he should allow these ships to anchor within the port, Aufidius agreed.

The two ships anchored down within the port and a ramp came from on top the deck of the ship with the Julii banner and fell down to the foundations of Lemonum. The crowd of civilians rushed to the port to see who would exit the ships, not caring that the militiamen were trying to keep them away from the area. The first two men that the crowd of Lemonum witnessed leaving the ship were Roman officers; one was tall, handsome, and well-built and the other was short, thin, and had the face of a boy. Both of them were walking down the ramp side-by-side wearing their crimson plume-crested helmets on their head, their crimson capes flowing back within the portside breeze. Aufidius' mouth fell, but he ordered his men to sheathe their weapons.

One-by-one, the legionaries walked down the ramp of the ship and marched into formation on the port, much to the amazement of the onlookers, both civilians and militia alike. Though these Julii soldiers had armor that was polished and uniformed, it was their faces and demeanor that disturbed the crowd. Many of them were bandaged with filthy bloodstained wrappings, several men had makeshift crutches and improvised splints on their arms and legs, they had the scraggly beards of savages, they had bags under their eyes that aged them all fifteen years, and they possessed the bloodshot and soulless eyes of the damned of Tartarus. The standard of the Twenty-Eighth was famous and their exploits were illustrious, yet the crowd wondered could these truly be the legionaries of legend…

"Wh-Who is in command here?" Aufidius demanded of the legion.

Aufidius noticed the short boyish officer step forward. His voice reverberated, "I am. I am General Vitus Julius of the Twenty-Eighth Legion."

Aufidius believed it was joke at first, though he held back his laughter. He looked to Primus Pilus Cossutius, but the senior centurion's razor-like glare showed it was all too real. It took Aufidius a moment to note Vitus' eyes, and once he realized it, he recalled the rumors of the Lucius the Mighty begetting a son with "mismatched eyes".

"Those eyes of yours," he said, pointing at the adolescent. "I heard tales of Lucius having a son with eyes like yours, and you are under the standard of his Legion. So you two are the sons of Lucius!"

Proculus chuckled, nudging Vitus' arm, "At least your eyes are good for something."

"This means, you two are the nephews of the Julii Patriarch, Decius!" Aufidius continued, in utter awe. He bowed before them. "Apologies for my skepticism. I am Titus Aufidius, Prefect of Lemonum. I welcome you both. You and your men look as if you had a long voyage. Please. Ask for anything and I shall bestow it upon you, anything for the nephews of Decius."

Vitus said to him, "We extend gratitude for your hospitality, Prefect Aufidius. You may rise."

As Aufidius raised his head, he had noticed another Roman officer was walking down the ramp from the second ship, his eyes were on the Julius brothers. And yet this officer's armor was dyed purple.

"Is that everyone from your ship?" he called out to the brothers.

"Indeed it is, Marcus," Proculus replied, "We have everything."

"Good. When shall you return to Alesia?"

"As soon as possible."

"I believe that if you stay to the roads of Lemonum, you should reach Alesia within two weeks or less."

Vitus nodded, "Give gratitude for Tryphon from us. Know that he has a debt with us for dropping us off here, Praetor."

Aufidius' eyes grew as wide as the sun. "P-P-Praetor?!" He bowed before Marcus, "W-W-With your permission, Praetor! I, Titus Aufidius, Prefect of Lemonum, shall be humbled if I can treat you and your men to some food and drink, if you would have it."

"Gratitude for your offer, Prefect. You may rise. But I must decline. I need to reach Rome immediately. I've only left my ship to give farewell to the Julii." Marcus looked to the brothers, scratching the back of his neck, "Look…I understand that we have not had the best relationship during our time in Samarobriva, but I am alive, as are my men, and we have you to thank for such. We have the five eagles of our legion and a barbarian king. Perhaps…perhaps my return shall not be as bad as I once believed. And I have the both of you to thank."

"Of course, Marcus." Proculus said to him. "You are Appia's cousin, the Julii will venture through Tartarus to save family. It lifts the heart that we were able to save you."

Vitus gave a strong nod, "Indeed, Praetor, we wish you fortune in the continuation of your voyage. May the Gods keep you in their embrace."

Marcus saluted them. "And may they unto you." The brothers saluted him in return. He made an about-face and returned to his ship. He turned his head to the helmsman and the ship slowly careened away from the docks. And within moments, the pirate fleet continued on south, the Praetor and his purple-colored standard faded away within the distance of the ocean. The civilians and militia looked on dumbfounded at the now stranded remnant of a legion which was now standing within their port.

Proculus turned to Aufidius, he would take the prefect up on that offer of complete hospitality. The first thing he desired? Medical treatment for the wounded. The second thing he desired was food and water for the rest of the men. Aufidius nodded fervently, he would obey whatever they asked for.

It took for half an hour, but the prefect had established a feast for the awaiting soldiers. Trays of bread, succulent fruit, and the choicest meats that patricians could dine from were laid out for these soldiers of the lower class. The men ate furiously and yet in relative silence, only speaking to compliment the food with one another. Aufidius sat beside the brothers, meekly asking them what had happen and how they were in league with the pirates.

Vitus sighed and he told him the entire story of the campaign within five minutes.

"By Jupiter's mercy…" Aufidius exclaimed in an exhale. "Such is quite a tale. And all of its truth?"

"Every word," said Proculus, taking a bite from an apple.

"How long have you been at sea with the pirates."

"About two weeks."

"I see. I offer condolences for your father. I never met the man but his accolades speak for themselves."

"Gratitude." Both of them said.

"So, what do you plan to do next, if you find it worthy for me to ask?"

"We seek to return home." Vitus replied.

"I see. When do you seek to return?"

"It depends."

"O-On what?"

Proculus turned to the Prefect, "You shall see at this very moment."

The brothers stood up from the table and Cossutius barked for silence of the skeleton of a legion. Vitus admitted to his soldiers that he and Proculus were contemplating this decision upon reaching Lemonum. The legionaries listened on solemnly. This city held a Militia Barracks which the legionaries could reside in for rest; and though these barracks were smaller than the Legion Barracks of Alesia, the men had a place to rest their bodies, bathe, and eat. Proculus stepped in, explaining to the men that they held a choice in staying at Lemonum until the winter season ended. But not the brothers. They were for Alesia, they would leave immediately after the legion had finished feasting. Their duty was back at the great city of Roman Gallia. The legionaries could follow with them, but they would have to leave immediately; or they could remain within the city and rest until spring. The brothers figured these soldiers risked everything to keep their brothers-in-arms, the choice for their future was entirely up to them.

Cossutius rose from his seat, "I have accompanied you through the worst of the winter, I have followed you into battle, I shall not remain here in this city while you venture out to Alesia. I shall accompany you, my generals!"

Another legionary stood up. "That's right, sir! I shall join you as well!"

"As shall I!"

"Me too!"

Aelianus stood, "You can always rely on me, General!"

Ardunas scoffed at the offer. He tore the flesh off of a hare's leg with his teeth. He smiled as he chewed. "You try to rid yourself of us, Roman? Ha! I and my kin shall follow you two to the ends of the earth until my men and I have received the promised denarii for our extended services. Don't fuck with us now, Roman."

"Such loyalty of these men…" Aufidius mumbled in surprise, he wondered how come the Town Watch wasn't as energetically loyal as these soldiers.

Vitus smiled proudly at the comment, drinking from his wine. "We've been through horrors that I believe you cannot truly fathom, despite us telling you of this campaign; we've seen the loss of a man who held us all together. Such loyalty that they shared, we had to earn."

"And they desire to return home, a sentiment that we shall fulfill by any means." Proculus held his cup out to be refilled with more wine. "Aufidius, you have shown great generosity to the Twenty-Eighth and by extension, our late father. Yet I ponder if you shall grant another request for us?"

"Oh anything! Just name the desire and I shall see if fulfilled!"

"We only have twelve horses with us at this moment. And we desire to return to Alesia as quick as possible. I would see that the remaining men of the legion are given horses to travel as well, along with a carriage or two to for the men who are unable to ride. Can you comply with that?"

"Oh absolutely, anything for the brave men of the Twenty-Eighth!"

"Truly? Such is a large order," Vitus said, "You claim surety that you shall provide us with this? Allow us to pay you the correct sum and—"

Aufidius shook his head, "After such an arduous campaign, how can I charge you? You brothers have endured so much, so please, take this food and the horses as a symbol of charity for your valiant efforts for free!"

The brothers' eyes flew wide at the comment, smiles grew on their faces. Aufidius smiled as well, I should charge these two exorbitant prices! Food, drink, and horses are most expensive during the winter. Yet…since they are the nephews of Decius Julius, maybe if I show them grace, they shall inform Decius of my generosity and I can be compensated and rewarded with advancement of my current position!

Proculus shook the prefect's hand. "Titus Aufidius, we shall not forget the kindness you have shown us today, our Uncle shall hear of it! I swear to Jupiter, he shall hear of it!"

Aufidius bowed his head, "Gratitude, for those words." Oh please tell him! I am counting on it! "I live to serve the Julii."

Upon finishing that hour long feast, the legionaries were granted the horses and carriages that the brothers requested. Several of the legionaries were apprehensive about riding, some had never even been on a horse, but for those who couldn't ride were given space in the carriage or their horse was attached by rope to a more competent rider. Yet a problem had arisen for the Twenty-Eighth men as they prepared to leave.

The wounded asked if they could accompany the Legion back to Alesia. To lie in a foreign city and having their wounds treated as their comrades moved away was unbearable to the pride of these elite legionaries. When their asking was given a no by the brothers, several of the men resorted to begging to at least fit in the carriages as the Legion returned to Alesia. They had all come this far together, surely they would not be separated. But though it weighed on Vitus' heart to pick the kind decision, he knew the smartest decision was to leave the wounded here so they could fully recover from their wounds with proper medical attention that a settlement could provide. Through their dejected frowns Vitus swore to them that upon the medicus' approval after the winter, they could return to Alesia.

Vitus and Proculus mounted their stallions, and saluted to Prefect Aufidius, praising his hospitality. Aufidius saluted back, mentioning to make sure the brothers informed their Uncle of all that Aufidius has done for them. The entire town had crowded around the column of mounted legionaries ready to depart, extending goodbyes and safe wishes in their winter travel. Vitus gave the order, "Twenty-Eighth, we're returning home. Now, move out!"

Two weeks had passed since the Legion had left the slight comforts of Lemonum to venture out into the countryside of Gallia. This new mobile legion of cavalry was making excellent pace despite the "harsh" winter that enveloped the land, yet the Romans scoffed at the plebeians they passed by that complained at the severity of this winter down south. The soldiers only saw four inches of snow on the ground, steady downpour of snowflakes with cutting wind that was at best a mild annoyance; this was nothing compared to the blizzard they survived up north. The legionaries were actually relieved that their horses were strong enough to carry the individual soldier's pack and equipment, instead of the soldiers shouldering that heavy burden on their feet during the winter. Some men even joked amongst themselves about joining the cavalry when this was all over.

The legion was following the paved highways that the military had the upmost priority to travel upon. The eagle of the Twenty-Eighth was being carried at the front of the column by the Thracian Auxiliary where the brothers were leading from. The brothers had recognized the rise of the terrain and the shapes of the barren trees that ran along parallel of the highway. They were very close. Their hearts began to race. Soon they would meet their mother.

As they took the last rise of the snowy bluff, their eyes bore down to the city of Alesia. The brothers felt innate pride upon gazing at what their parents have built up from a mud hole of barbarian filth to a thriving Roman city that could rival Arretium, the Julii capital. It shined like a beacon in the sea of darkness. They were finally home.

The militiamen of Alesia's Town Watch that guarded the gates stood in disbelief at the sight of the approaching legion. They were at first prepared to man the defenses but the crimson banner of the Twenty-Eighth stood out among the snowy landscape that surrounded the land. The guardsmen shouted to their comrades on top of the stone wall to open the gates for the returning Twenty-Eighth.

The citizens of the city made way for the returning legion, shocked and wide-eyed that these soldiers came back from the south instead of the north, on horses instead of on foot, and their number was under one hundred, instead of surpassing five thousand. Ardunas and his Gauls were amazed at the size of Alesia. It was three times larger than what Samarobriva was, it had actual buildings that were still standing, plumbing, bathhouses, and even brothels where the whores were leaning out of the windows observing the legionaries as so many others were doing. Like the civilians from Lemonum, the Alesians gasped at the outward disheveled appearance of these soldiers that bore thick beards, torn capes, bloodstained bandaging, dirt-laced faces, and haggard bloodshot eyes. Several of the Alesians began shouting out to the Legion and to the brothers.

"Bless the Gods you all have returned, oh sons of the Julii!"

"What has happened?"

"Why do you return from the South instead of the North?"

"Where is Lucius the Mighty, why does he not ride with you?"

"Maybe he resides within the carriage?"

"Why are there so few of you?"

Not a single soldier answered back. They prayed to Mercury within their minds to silence all these gossiping tongues that surrounded them. But as they continued to move forward, more questions were being hurled upon the Twenty-Eighth. Vitus breathed easier as the Town Watch did their job and performed crowd security, keeping the curious civilians at bay. Within two minutes, the Legion had made its way back to their "lovely" barracks next to the Town Square.

Aelianus, Cossutius, and the other legionaries looked on at their barracks, a surreal silence fell on them. Some of the soldiers even exuded tears of masculinity at the sight. Cots numbering in the hundreds in one wing, two hundred cots in the next wing, and so on it expanded. The armory for the legion that was under lock and key in their absence was finally open, revealing thousands upon thousands of slots for their shields, swords, and pila to fit into.

But now they had only less than two hundred swords and shields to place back into the armory. Less than one hundred men to fill the thousands of beds. Everything was much larger than the men remembered it. But was that true? They took one long look amongst themselves. Each soldier had at once complained at the cramp conditions amidst the barracks, but now they could no longer complain. No more raucous noise echoing within each wing of the barracks, no more would the stench of sweat, body odor, and foot fungus reign with the barrack wings. For these men felt like ghosts returning to the home when they all once felt alive.

Proculus tapped Vitus' shoulder, and pointed to dominating feature within the city. The Grand Palace of the governor of Alesia. Their mother flashed in Vitus' mind, Appia flashed in Proculus' mind. Both of them were lost in the architecture of the palace, wondering if the soldiers had felt empty returning to their home, would the brothers feel the same?

The brothers looked to the legion and saw Cossutius and Aelianus nodding to them to continue on up to the Grand Palace, they would ensure the legion rests. Ardunas pointed to the Palace in shock, he eyed the brothers in which they smiled weakly with a shrug, humbly suggesting that yes, that was their home. Never had Ardunas struck a goldmine with an employer before. He heard the brothers say how wealthy their family was, but until arriving at Alesia, he could never visually fathom the accuracy behind such statements. He begged for them to take him up the Palace, but they shook their heads. They had to venture up there themselves.

The doors to the inner atrium of the palace opened with the familiar creeks that the brothers were so accustomed to and dreaded whenever they tried to sneak out of the palace during a punishment. As they stepped inside, Vitus took a knee and could feel the warmth exuding from the concrete floor and warmed his hands. Oh how he remembered on certain cold days prostrating himself on the floor just to doze off cozily from the heat.

The slave who greeted strangers at the door politely asked the brothers to wait in the atrium as he excitedly went to find the Domina. The slaves approached the brothers in utter disbelief, they were only too ecstatic to see the young dominus return to their home once more. Several of them ran up to the brothers with familial smiles, practically jumping with joy at their masters.

Within half a minute, the greeter slave came back to the atrium waving for his mistress to hurry. Around the corner came the sprinting Octavia, her face in a daze as she heard the news. She was out of breath and was bent over, panting. When she saw the faces of her sons, the air had ceased in her lungs.

The brothers shuddered with large smiles, warmth enveloped their hearts to once again reunite with their doting mother. Octavia covered her mouth with a single hand, her legs grew weak but she still found strength to run to her children. Never had the brothers been hugged tighter by their mother.

Her tears fell onto their shoulders and she kissed them on their cheeks. The brothers wrapped their arms around her and felt that soft, calming embrace that could only be received by one's mother. Several of the slaves even began to cry at this reunion.

She spoke through her sobs, "This is no dream…y-you both…you both stand before me!"

"Hello, Mother." Proculus said tenderly.

"Mother, I…thank the Gods," Vitus said, almost ready to shed some tears of his own.

She wiped the tears from her face, she brushed her long auburn hair away from her face and kissed both of their foreheads. She noticed how filthy their looks were, how their former clean-shaven faces were spoiled by excess hair and how Proculus had random scars on his cheeks, while Vitus had a noticeable horizontal scar on his forehead. Her thumb and fingers traced the scars on their faces.

"Oh my…these scars, their—"

"Soldierly I would say, Mother." Proculus said with a smirk.

"Proudly earned in battle." Vitus added with an additional smirk.

"These were the extent of brutal wounds we've received." They continued their smiles, but Proculus dared not tell her about the sword wound in his shoulder, and likewise Vitus dared not mention the Germanic arrow he received in his chest.

Octavia nodded reassuringly, trusting the words of her sons. Everything had now seemed to come into place, but the brothers knew the atmosphere in the Palace could never revert to what it once was. And so they inhaled for the upcoming bitterness they were to experience.

Then came the most dreaded question.

Proculus' smirk faded entirely. "Uh, mother…in our campaign, we received some…news of dread…but d-did…d-did the head of Father arrive at Alesia?"

She bowed her head and her crying renewed. The fists of the brothers' clenched.

The brothers hugged their weeping mother once more, they were shedding tears as well. She told them everything. She informed them that Appia had sent the head to Decius Julius in Arretium to be preserved, until they could properly travel back to the lands of Italy to give Lucius the proper funeral rites during the Spring.

Through her tears, she asked them, "What happened to your father?"

Proculus spoke, yet his eyes could not meet her, "We…We were deceived by the Britons, the Legion was ambushed and overwhelmed by them and…Father was killed and the King of the Britons took his head as a prize and sent it back here."

Octavia's hands were trembling. She began shaking, her mind visualizing the gruesome scene. "Wh-Why? Why would a barbarian perform such an action? Why did he return his head to me?"

Vitus spoke now, "He claimed that he found Father a worthy opponent and sent it back as a sign of respect for our family. And yet, such return held a cruel meaning as well. His head coming back was to instill terror and fear that…Father could lose in battle. And that Rome was vulnerable."

"And you two survived this barbarian?"

"Indeed, we survived him. We triumphed over him, b-but not without cost."

"To what do you mean?"

Vitus gave a sideways glance at Proculus. The elder brother returned the glance. The same question had seemingly ran through both of their minds, Should they inform their mother of the pact they made with the people who killed their father?

Octavia shook her head, "Gods preserve us, you two have returned. Such is all that matters to me." Once again she gripped them in a maternal hug. "I feared the worse. I feared you have perished alongside your father. I prayed to all the Gods, I've consulted with the augurs, I've offered my hair and my blood; all to receive a sign of your fate." Her tears fell from her eyes even stronger, "And now the Gods have truly rewarded my prayers, you both have returned to me!"

Vitus closed his eyes and kissed Octavia on her cheeks. Never before had he felt more at home than in his mother's embrace. Yet Proculus gently pushed himself away from his mother. He would love to stay with his mother, but he had someone he truly needed to see.

"Apologies, Mother." He said to her with softened eyes, "It lifts the heart that I've returned to you, but…but I must see her immediately."

Octavia smiled with a nod, saying, "I understand, Proculus. You know where to find her."

Vitus looked to him with a smile of confidence, "Go get her."

Proculus walked down the hallway, each step he took he could swear that his frantic heart was rising up his throat by inches. He came to the bedchamber, yet he stood outside the door. He placed his ruddy palms on the wooden door, he rested his forehead against it. She was in there, he could…feel her inside. His hand was shaking, his stomach was tightening, and he couldn't understand it. If he could stand up to barbarians, why couldn't he open the door to meet her?

Mother Venus, please grant me strength…

He inhaled and opened the door softly. The first thing his eyes fell towards was her blonde hair, flowing down her smooth back. She was sitting on the bed, facing away from the door. Her delicate fingers were playing with a toy soldier that she was preparing to give to the orphans of Alesia upon her next visit. The sun had hit her blonde hair in the right light that made it seem like it was glowing.

"Appia…"

She turned around on the bed. She was as beautiful as he remembered. She instantly shot to her feet in surprise. She covered her mouth with both of her small hands, her arms were trembling. He walked past the door frame, allowing the light through the windows to fully shine on him. She began breathing heavily. It was as if she witnessed a phantom. He figured his appearance must have been quite a sight for her. He hasn't shaved since the Twenty-Eighth's defeat, and the crimson stubble that once bedecked his cheeks and chin had now evolved into a moderate beard that was in a need of desperate trim. He had minor facial scars from battle that now decorated his cheeks. His once short and straight hair had grown long and shaggy, his former trimmed nails were long and filthy, and he stunk of sweat. And despite his appearance of a homeless man, she just needed one look in his eyes to recognize him.

He remained past the door frame, admiring her pristine form. Her hair was wonderfully combed so that each golden sliver of hair that fell past her shoulders was accented as a glorious lock. Her lips were coated in soft pink lipstick which emphasized her facial features and her blue eyes. He could smell her lavender perfume wafting in the room from ten meters away. She was as a goddess. He walking closer to her, yet she remained still as if she was hypnotized.

He felt warmer with each step he took, as if he was moving closer to the Sun. Her eyes were quivering at his approach, her hands trembling. As he approached within handshaking distance, he smiled to her; his arms hung out to embrace her.

She slapped him in his face.

Proculus did not say a word. The sound of her hand meeting his face echoed vastly throughout the bedchamber. His cheek was singing red from the impact. The blow stung worse than any blade he received in battle. And he deserved it. He knew he deserved every ounce of power behind that slap. After all that he's done to her in their marriage, and especially how he left a note saying he was venturing to battle instead of confronting her; he honestly deserved more than a single slap.

Once he recovered, he took in the glare of anger on her face, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. But he looked deeper into the glare, and noticed two wells of emotion that were rising in her face. Relief and Joy.

Those wonderful eyes of hers…oh how they shed love for him. Tears cascaded down his face as well. He fell to his knees and wrapped his heavy arms around her waist and wept into her bosom. She wrapped her delicate arms around his head and pulled him in closer, her salty tears dropping on his auburn hair. They held each other tightly, swearing in their minds not to let each other go. They kept on sobbing, but with each drop of their tears, the more loving their embrace became. Vitus looked on from the entrance of their bedchambers in silence. Not since their wedding day has he seen the couple this truly happy.

Vitus bowed his head with a smirk and left them. He opened the doors to his own bedchambers, and was amazingly surprised to see that the slaves have kept it tidy in his absence. It still even had his same adolescent smell. He approaches his bed and pressed his hand down on the mattress, it sunk deeper than he remembered, much deeper than the army cots he was used to during the campaign. He placed his sore bottom on the bed and felt the comfort rising through his back. He remembered many nights on this bed. He remembered the festivities of Saturnalia that sometime extended into the night in which he could hear from his room, and unfortunately, since his chambers were right next to his brother's he would hear their rather loud lovemaking nearly every night. It grew worse on some nights where he could hear sex on both sides of his walls; from Proculus and Appia on one side, and his mother and father on the other. And was it truly so long ago that he awoke to the stampeding of slave feet outside his bedchambers and found out that the Legion was mobilizing to save the Praetor? Such was months ago, but why did those three months feel like years?

A month had passed since they left Samarobriva, he wondered what Lugo was doing. Was he busy contemplating the furthering of Britannia with his father, or was he just lying in bed and thinking about the past as Vitus was? Vitus sighed, visualizing that proud grin of the Brittonic Prince. Lugo…Lugotorix…Cassius… all three yet draw breath and all three have outmaneuvered us Romans. One day, we shall face them again, but…shall we be ready for them? How could Rome be ready?

He removed his gladius from his waist, his eyes took note of the notches in the hilt. Oroles… He remembered the blows he received during his training with him. All those hours, all that work, all the pragmatic advice during a fight about using dishonorable methods to remain alive; all of it kept him alive during the campaign. He remembered the Getae's words on the night of the victory of Praxus, "I shall forge you into invincible warriors that no man will beat in single combat… You must seize whatever approach is possible to emerge victorious, or fall defeated."

He clenched the Thracian's sword at the hilt. He thought of Lugo. No! I shall be ready for Lugo and his family when he comes. One day I shall lead the Julii army against him, and win. I shall do whatever I can to prepare for him. When our two nations go to war, Rome shall emerge victorious! This I swear.

His promise would be in the future, but for now, his mind was drifting back to the present. Vitus was still wearing his armor as he transitioned from sitting to lying on his soft bed, he didn't even remove his muddy boots. He still grasped Oroles' sword and brought it over his chest. He clenched his personal totem that his father crafted tightly in his left hand and rested it on his chest. Vitus felt his Father's strength and knowledge bearing down on him in a protective shell. He thanked the Gods for his fate. He was back on Roman lands, free from war, in a warm bed, his father's mission was completed, the men of the legion returned, his brother was safe and sound, and Vitus himself was alive, and ready to embrace the future when it came. Father… Oroles… Please watch over me… Within seconds of his auburn hair hitting the pillow, the world around him darkened, his cares and worries instantly evaporated into nothingness.

Babies could not have slept as well as he did.

I don't care what anyone says, one of the best feelings in the world after experiencing a long day, a long trip, something physically or mentally strenuous is going back to your own bed and relaxing :)

And now it is with heavy heart that the next chapter will be the last chapter, a proper end to the story. All the years I've spent upon this story shall now come to an end.

The original idea for this chapter was to have the entire chapter have no dialogue at all, except having the narrative just tell the action. Something like a silent movie. Then I changed it because I realized how foolish that would be when everyone is READING this instead of watching the story like it was a tv show or movie. I'm glad I added dialogue to the story.

The second to last chapter, eh? Well then, I would love to thank EVERYONE who is continually reading this fic up to this point. I want you all to note that it is keeping me committed to the story. Truly, thank you all!

-Kanuro5