Chapter Text
146 B. C. E | Sparta, Hellas
The fire crackled in an orange hue as it burnt the remnants of an olivewood door. The silence after the battle was deafening. It was a terrifying sight, bodies buried under bodies in a way that would make even the strongest warrior crumble. It was all strikingly different than what they thought war was.
They had rebelled, led a fair fight and lost with honor tightly clutched to their chest.
Nikos crawled as he could, his toga dripping blood, his face drenched in cold sweat and half an arrow stuck to his side. He spat out a tooth and he weakly sat down next to his boy, breathing heavily from effort. He pulled his helmet off and leaned against the wall, his brown hair falling over his forehead in a way that made Leonidas fall in love all over again.
“Aγάπη μου, be quiet" Nikos whispered, reaching out for the other boy's hand "you are aware we will reunite with the Gods soon, I hope"
"I am aware of this fate just as much as you are," the boy murmured back, his black curls sticking to his clammy forehead and bloodied skin, his cheeks bruised and wounded, sprinkled with old and new battle scars. He chuckled softly, staring off into the burning flame. “Gods… I do really hate the Romans”
"You cannot imagine how much I do too, Leonidas,” Nikos said, brushing off the hair away from the boy's eyes, anger flaring up in his chest as he cupped his face. "They will pay for their crimes, I shall make sure of it"
"Spare me with the dramatics, you are no God to be promising such things" Leonidas said, his eyes hazy and his smile turned sour. He looked at the other boy, a sight he had seen so many times before, but now? Now it might be the last. “I cannot fathom how people surrendered to the barbarians. I would rather die in glory than live in misery”
Nikos smiled softly. He had always known the resistance his lover had held against the regime of Roma. They had erased everything they once knew: from their tongue to their traditions and so many more things that would be blasphemous to admit. It was only natural they opposed it. Leonidas had always been stubborn, and nothing would force him to break himself into bite size pieces, not even death. He would remain whole, and let those who cannot stomach him choke. He admired him deeply for it.
Before he could agree, in the midst of the silence, the distinctive clinking of the Legionnaire's boots filled the air. A sound that promised an undignified death. The Legion was Roma's army, a terrorizing group of young men (too young men) that destroyed and murdered in the name of their empire. The remorse in their eyes was undeniable, more than once the youngest soldiers spared a child, telling it to hide, or picked up the babies that were still cradled in the arms of their long gone mothers. Maybe these people were still just people, but when they traveled in groups, death was the kindest fate of them all.
"May death not do us part, my dear" Leonidas said softly and looked at Nikos, who was close to losing consciousness "May death not do us part"
"Will I ever see you again, if this really is how we perish?" Nikos asked weakly and took Leonidas' hand. The footsteps grew closer. His hand shook violently. His fingertips cold as the Atlantic sea. He was more scared than he had even been before, his blood staining the ground that once raised him. Nikos wondered for a second if the errant souls would feed on it to remain warm. The elixir of life they called it, he understood why now.
"We'll meet again, I would rather share a single lifetime with you than share all the ages of this world alone" He vowed and took his hand too. The footsteps stopped and they both took a deep breath, the last one of the earth that cradled them without question when they took their first steps. Fire ash. Olive oil. Sharp wind. It smelled like home. "I swear on the Styx"
“You are no God to be promising such things" Nikos teased, and they both chuckled weakly, bringing the attention of the Legionnaire to them. The warriors unsheathed their swords with warning steps, muttering quiet words in Latin and shushing each other out unsuccessfully. "But I swear on the Styx I will do everything in my hand so the string of our fate is bound together”
Despite themselves, deep down, they knew that they would never see again the earth that once raised them.
“Roma wasn't built in a day," Leonidas continued, a sour phrase the Romans repeated often. It was the only string of words they seemed to know in their holy language.
But Leonidas had an addition. A fairly deserved one "But it shall burn in one"
Farewell, dear Hellas. May Gods be with you.