They both know what the letters are meant for, addressed separately. They know it's a call to war.
“They’ll reach Piraeus today,” Nik grumbles, reading his.
Augustus’s is still unopened, the papyrus slightly rough against his hands. He turns over the envelope, eyebrows furrowing at the royal seal encasing the opening. It is waxed messily. Done in haste, Augustus thinks, they probably had a lot of cannon fodder to write to.
“Will you go?”
He already knows the answer. He sees how Nik has spent his years, how he continues to spend them, how he only ever acts like himself in front of Augustus, and even then it's sometimes shielded. He sees what he longs for, his desperate glances at his ring finger, his daily recollections of memories he made with Zeke which he describes to Augustus through teary smiles and clenched fists.
Nikolas misses him, he wants to go. He knows he’ll die.
But Augustus is selfish. He’s spent so many years without anyone by his side, and now Nik is there, his closest friend in all the ways that matter, and he’s hurting and wants to go back to his soulmate, but Augustus doesn’t understand.
I don’t want him to go.
“I have to,” Nik says, “They’ll check our houses.”
“I could hide us.”
“I don’t want to live in hiding, Augustus. Zeke died so I wouldn’t have to do that.”
Augustus sighs, and picks up his envelope, “I’ll come with.”
“But you have no training.”
He laughs, humorless and haunting, “It's not like I can die, thank my soulmate for that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve fought in many wars, Nik, I tried to die, trust me. I’d blindly swing my sword, I even sometimes didn’t put on my armor, but no blow ever came. They’d try, and I’d fall down and black out, and then I was getting back up in a field of bodies and blood.”
“Okay,” Nik takes Augustus’s envelope from his hand, skimming through its contents before throwing both letters into the fireplace, “We have to be at the base at the earliest.”
Augustus only nods, mind running through all the ways he could possibly avoid Nik dying.
It takes them eight hours to wrap up their dealings and get to the base camp. Nik pays their landowner, takes care of their possessions and everything else that they won’t be taking with them, and arranges some silver coins to carry if needed, all while Augustus sits and stares at their armors, one of steel and the other iron, and thinks of the steel being stained with blood.
It won’t be, he reassures himself, not if I can help it.
The commoners pitch their tents at the camp and run to the weaponry, eager to get their hands on whatever they can. They treat war like it's an adventure, not a death sentence, and Augustus scoffs at their naivety. It's all admiring swords and clinking chest plates, enthusiastic fist bumps and confident grins, it's all about glory and victory till you’re actually on the field, till you watch the one you drank wine with just a few hours ago bleed to death.
Augustus has, multiple times, and war holds no meaning for him anymore.
He’s there though, and he keeps close to Nik at all times - while they listen to the commander, while they sit at the bonfire and prepare for tomorrow, while they sharpen their tools and try on their chainmail - Augustus fastens Nik’s for him and prays it protects him.
To whom? His mind scoffs, to whom are you even praying? No God looks down upon you. Either there is none, and men are all fools, or they have forgotten about you.
“We’ll be okay tomorrow,” Nik says into the night as they lay down in their tent, prepared to wake up whenever they hear the trumpet announcing that the Persians have been sighted in the Port’s territory.
“But you don’t want to be,” Augustus whispers back.
“What do you mean?”
“You want to go, you want this to be your last night, you want to go to him.”
“No-,” Nik sounds confused, “Is that what you’ve been thinking all along?”
He gets up from his position, turning over so his face is towards Augustus, resting his body on his forearms.
“Is that why you’ve been acting strange? You think I want to die?”
“You said you didn’t want to live in hiding, you said you missed Zeke.”
Augustus doesn’t have the nerve to face him.
“And I do, I don’t want to live a life running away from soldiers, that’s what I meant,” He sighs, and his hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Augustus’s face.
“Then why were you so eager to fight?”
“To have a sense of purpose? To do something other than play the lyre and be a performing monkey for rich Greeks? I don’t know, but it’s not what you thought.”
“I’m sorry,” Augustus didn't know why he was apologizing, only that he still couldn’t meet Niks eyes, and dawn was approaching faster than he wanted.
“Don’t apologize,” Nikolas searches Augustus’s face, before sighing and lying back down on his stomach, “Let’s sleep, we have a war to fight tomorrow.”
They do, and it comes sooner than they had planned. Their warship makers had not taken into account the new technology of the Persian ships, and the fleet is sighted in Athenian waters sooner than they’d thought. A cry breaks out at four in the morning and frazzled youth shuffle to their feet, rubbing their eyes and collecting their steel garments.
Augustus barely gets to look at Nik as they put their armors on, tightening their helmets. Augustus does his mechanically, no sound coming from his side of the tent, but when he notices Nik’s hands falter over his leather shoes, he walks over. Replacing his hands with his own, he fastens the shoe sides, covering the exposed parts with steel plates.
He reaches behind him to pull a coin out of his satchel, turning it in his hands.
“This is from King Antiochus’ time,” He says and hands him a silver coin, rough on the edges but still clear with the engraving in the middle.
“Is that Apollo?” Augustus asks, brushing his thumb over the figure depicted, long hair falling behind a band.
The figure looks serene, its hand clutching a lyre with the utmost care. Augustus turns it over, to find a similar engraving on the back. This time, it's just the lyre, seven strings running across the silver in thin bands.
“Yes, I know you don’t believe in him, but I just wanted you to have it.”
“I don’t have anything to give you.”
Nik laughs, and Augustus is glad his friend is still able to do that with a fight awaiting him, “It isn’t a barter trade Auggie, it's just a gift.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“Don’t know, I just felt like it. I was going to give it to you sooner or later, but today seemed just fine.”
Augustus nods and puts the coin with his own few belongings.
“Thank you,” He smiles, and gets his hair ruffled in return.
“You’re welcome, now c’mon, we need to get into formation.”
Oh, yes. It had almost escaped his mind. They have a war to fight.
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author's note
Hi hi so how are we doing they're at war now I hope you aren't (thoughts, comments and votes - give me all you want)
hazel <3
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YOU ARE READING
where the spirit meets the bones
General Fiction"Because they don't die, Auggie." "What do you mean?" "Exactly what I said. They don't die, they stay stuck at the age they were when their soulmate died, and their ring falls off. It reappears when their soulmate is reborn, and then they try again...
