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"Are you tired, General?" a voice sounds in the the darkness between the tents, that's only lit by torches, shaking Maximus out of the stupor that's settled over him ever since Aurelius told him of his plans. It's not Lucilla again, who once more tries to rekindle a flame that's long since died down. It's the even more dangerous of Aurelius' children, who now steps beside him.
"I'm always tired, Commodus." Maximus replies without turning.
"So is my father." Commodus assents. "I am not. I am hungry."
"I don't remember a time when I still was."
"Come with me." Commodus touches him lightly on one still armor plated arm. "I wish to speak."
Maximus follows.
They speak all night, in whispered voices. And Commodus is not at all as foolish and mindless as Maximus remembers, or as unpredictable and dangerous as Marcus Aurelius describes him. And Maximus wonders once more why this unrest must be, why yet another burden must be his to carry. He is so tired. And the thought of the next challenge that awaits him, fills him with hopelessness. It will be years, maybe a decade till the republic will be reestablished. And it will never be save. And these soft-cheeked senators... Maximus does not dare to leave Rome's fate in their hands. They're too weak to protect it. And Maximus is too tired to do it forever.
As the night progresses Commodus takes him to bed. Takes off piece after piece of armor. Wipes the dirt and sweat off his body. Lays him out on his bed. And takes him gentle and careful. Maximus lets him. Follows his every direction, every gentle push and pull. He isn't used to such considerate touches any longer, when all he's known is death and not even the surgeon has time enough to be gentle. All he's breathed and eaten for years seems to have been blood and dust. And now to be taken care of. Even just for a moment, to be allowed to give in, to be simply given pleasure without question or demand. Alone that Commodus dares to touch him like that. Treats him like a human being, not like the great general, the sword of the empire. And Maximus loves him for it, that night. For being the only one who sees what he needs, the only one brave enough to give it to him. Not more questions, more honors, more schemes, more responsibilties. No, letting go of all of it, forgetting for a few precious moments.
Commodus kisses him afterwards and puts him to bed for real this time, draping a blanket over him, sitting himself back down at the table with his scrolls and letters. And he watches him from there, Maximus knows that. And nevertheless he sleeps deep and peaceful that night.
*
The next morning the camp is calm. He's alone, but it's already deep into the day. Maximus, for once disoriented, leaves Commodus' tent.
He sees the other just coming out of his father's tent. Commodus nods at him. So, everything went well and Aurelius was right, Commodus will indeed accept his words.
Later that day Commodus and the Emperor bid him farewell, bound for Rome, while Maximus will remain with the camp until the last soldiers are ready to be transported off.
"Return home, brother." Commodus tells him in a gentle voice. "Everything will be alright." He kisses him on the cheek.
And Maximus takes his word, because he needs to believe it.
*
He's been with his family for three months, when word comes from Rome that Marcus Aurelius has died.
And Maximus is called to Rome.
*
Many voices try to influence him, the second he sets foot into the city that is the center of the civilised world, the city that Maximus has never seen before. Senators telling him that the emperor was murdered, that Commodus will usurp the throne.
And Maximus thinks, why could they not have left him in Spain? He has no wish to build alliances. He does not want to believe that Commodus would kill his own father. Because of a night half a year ago on the side of a battlefield. Because Commodus was not anything how everybody, how Marcus Aurelius, told him. Because if even Marcus Aurelius did not know his son, how would these men?
*
And Commodus greets him, dressed in mourning. Hugs him like you would hug an equal, a brother. Warily Lucilla stands in the background, a black veil obscuring her face.
"I told you I would call upon you."
"Tell me you did not kill him." Maximus says.
"I did not." Commodus simply replies. "He was my father."
*
Maximus looks warily at Rome. Exactly as corrupted as Aurelius told him. Gods, how should Aurelius' dream ever grow here? In this weak, washed-out soil. How will they ever survive without him? Without him to protect their degeneration. He will never leave Rome again, he realises. Except maybe to go into battle. Aurelius chose ill. Maximus won't be able to do anyting but protect the republic with the sword. He has no stomach for politics. The scheming makes him sick. He will never find peace again. Three months. That was all he got.
"Does it scare you, Protector? Commodus asks, stepping beside him. "The burden of protecting the worthless? Of giving power back to those who don't know how to wield it?"
"I don't assume I'll be having it for long."
"And you didn't even want it to begin with." Commodus chuckles. "Oh, my father told me all about that. The incorruptible Maximus who had to be forced to accept the keys to the greatest empire in the world. Do you presume I would dare to question my fathers wise provision? And try to take it from you?"
"I presume, Commodus, that I'll be dead before the funeral games for your father are over."
"And still you came."
"Was staying ever an option? Could your men not have found me there too, if you presumed me a threat, burned down my farm with my family in it? And then, I still thought Rome was something worth fighting for. That there was a chance."
"For dreams only to be whispered?"
"Yes."
"There are nothing but whispers here. In the dark, in hidden alleys, in secret meetings. But they are poison-tongued, accompanied by either coin or knife. I grew up here. Unlike you and my father, I've spent my live navigating this rose-scented snake pit." And then as if in afterthought, he adds, "And I do not intend to kill you, Maximus."
"No?" Maximus quirks an eyebrow. He's been in too many battles for the prospect to still scare him.
"No." Commodus agrees, leaning against the balcony with his back, looking at Maximus, the setting sun like a halo around his head. "Because I can have everything. You. The empire. Maybe even love and respect, we'll see about that. And now come, friend. Your journey's been long and today has been tiring for even those of us who woke up this morning on a silken pillow."
Once more he follows Commodus. To his lavish, overwhelming rooms that seem to represent Rome like hardly anything else. That are nothing like a tent on a battlefield, nothing like Maximus' farm. And Commodus fits in here, where Maximus feels so tremendously out of place.
"To the Republic." Commodus says and hands him a goblet. Maximus fully expects it to be poisoned.
Commodus waits for him to have a drink and then kisses him.
"See," he then says. "Not poisoned. Tonight we'll pretend to be lovers, maybe friends even. And tomorrow we can continue to gamble with the lives of thousands."
And they come together as they did that night in Germania. Maximus pretending once more that there's still a way for him out. And Commodus once more offering Maximus strength when everyone else is only ever asking it of him. Offering him a choice here, even if not voiced that clearly, when Aurelius did not give him that courtesy, when all his talk of offering and honor had been nothing but an order.
"What's your interest in me?" Maximus asks, later, leaning against Commodus' desk, half-clothed, another cup of wine in his hand.
"Everyone I know loves you, when they've only ever despised me." A shrug and a smile. "You are the son my father should have had." The smile twists at the edges. "Yes, I have my spies, everywhere." He shrugs it off like it does not matter either way. Then gets up himself. "We haven't seen each other in years, Maximus. And you were not like I remembered. You were not like your own legend, either. I saw a man that night. Weary of this world. I thought my father was tired because he was old. But you were too. The most powerful man in the empire and you wanted to go and farm. You talked to me that night. After everything my father had said, you talked to me. And neither did you humor me nor did you do it out of pity. But I did pity you. Because I realised my father's love can be just as cruel as his disregard. We understood each other that night. I think –my father would have never wanted it– but I think, in a different world we could have been friends. Maybe we still can. It is a different world now."
"What kind of world do you want?" Maximus asks, and his voice sounds rough to his own ears.
"Let's whisper of it." Commodus says and pulls Maximus back onto the bed.
*
And they do not restore the Republic. And Maximus stays. And Marcus Aurelius had a dream of Rome, but it turns out so does Commodus.
And from time to time Commodus will whisper to him, in the darkness of the night, of things like love.
*
It is the thirteenth year into the reign of Emperor Commodus.
They are both not as young as they were, and still Maximus is not as tired as he used to be.
Just now they are both watching the preparations for a parade in his honor upon his return from battle, that's begun even though it isn't even dawn yet. It is in Commodus' honor, naturally, as Maximus still does not care for such things. Hasn't learned to care for them in all the years he's now spent at the capital, having watched Commodus wield corruption and intrigue like Maximus does a sword.
He looks over at Commodus who's watching the preparations with smug contentment and finally he asks what he's been wondering for thirteen years and never dared to find out for sure.
"You did kill Marcus Aurelius, didn't you?"
"What did you truly ask of me that day, Maximus?" Commodus looks at him gently, humoringly. "Did you ask for the truth? No. You asked me to lie to you. And I did." The Emperor pauses there, looking into the distance where the sun is just now coming up over the roofs of Rome. "Do you think you could have loved me? In that different world we talked about?"
"It is a different world, Commodus. I loved you once, on a night on a battlefield. And I've done so again for many years now."