CW - violence and fear. There's one part with violence toward a child, and the section breaks around it will be &&& if you want to skip it. I'll put a quick summary below the section for the pertinent story parts.
MIKEY WATCHED THE training just like every day for the past weeks, since Verus had been well enough to watch, although today – as with yesterday – they'd traveled from his father's house in Verona to be here. Yesterday she'd missed being here for the whole day, although the busy quiet at the small mansion had been lovely, and she was happy that Ennius expected them in the camp. This really was turning out to be an adventure! Mikey wasn't certain she wanted to spend her golden years here, but this era was more than enough to keep her captivated right now.
She was watching a few children playing, darting through the tents and tagging along with the older boys who were carrying messages, as the new Prefect approached the same side of the field where Mikey and Verus were sitting. Half the camp's fighting men were in Verona, working on projects for the Governor, and the other half were here on the parade ground going though drills. The habits were familiar and she had grown used to not paying attention to the men unless Verus called her to watch something he found of interest to speak about.
Suddenly Verus sprawled across the ground behind the stool he'd just been sitting on. Mikayla twisted and dropped to her knee beside him, the question of what had happened that was already on her lips getting knocked out of her mouth. When she came to, she spit out the mouthful of blood, her left ear ringing from the blow and her mind struggling to check through the personal injuries she'd sustained. Verus was on his feet, fighting the Prefect in what, confusingly, appeared to be more than just sparring. The children she'd been watching were staring, and the oldest boy among them was gone.
"The Legion pays men who fight!" the Prefect hollered over the ringing that was still blocking Mikey's full thoughts from working. "So show the Legion you can fight!"
Mikayla looked up and saw Verus blocking the attacks of the Prefect, but she knew that wouldn't last long. The older man was far stronger with Verus in his current condition. Mikey came to her hands and knees and started crawling away from them as the match drove Verus closer to her, her stomach turning with vertigo she ascribed to the blow to her head. The Prefect shouted about women making men weak, poisoning the strength of the body and spirit. Mikayla looked around the Ground, seeing some Legionnaires staring at the Tribunes who were yelling at them to take the Prefect's 'lesson' to heart, and most watching her as she tried to crawl faster.
The Prefect knocked Verus off balance, forcing all of his weight onto his bad leg – the one Mikey had scraped down to the femur and then had rebuilt the remaining muscle structure so he could still walk – and Verus missed blocking fully. The next hit threw him to the ground and the Prefect laughed, jeering at Verus to stand up again, or stay down and prove he was weakened by the woman who tended to him. Verus looked at Mikey, his breathing ragged, and his features hardened as he climbed back to his feet to defend her. The Prefect attacked with the same fury, and Verus quickly started losing ground.
Mikey heard the heavy pounding before she saw the source. Max raced past the Parade Ground at a full gallop, clods of earth churning up wherever his hooves touched down, and charged between the tents where the boy had been. The boy old enough to deliver messages. Mikey felt her stomach clench with the realization of where the boy had already gone. Mikayla's ears were still ringing too loudly to have heard the whistle. When she looked back at the Legionnaires, most were backing away from the Tribunes, the realization clear on their faces for the same thing she already understood.
***
Alex had been enjoying the morning's sparring. The group had accepted Victoria without question, and Victoria was surprisingly happy to help teach. Alex was starting to think they would be able to split their days, one of them teaching in the morning and the other in the afternoon, giving them both more time for the usual chores and Alex some extra time working with Max, without sacrificing the same training schedule as the men. Now she was trying not to throw up, the vertigo of a timeline change from an unknown source pulling at her stomach.
"Lady Avilia!" A messenger boy angled out from between the nearby tents at a run.
"Here," Alex called, holding up her sword arm. The boy looked wildly in the direction of the group then ran toward her, skidding to a stop a pace away.
"The Prefect struck our Lady Healer," he panted, his voice wheezing with the effort of talking while this winded, "and he's attacking Celsus Calix to demonstrate weakness to the men and –"
Verus! Alex stopped listening and jammed her fingers into her mouth. Everyone close to her covered their ears a moment too late, the piercing whistle making them wince. Hades leapt into flight, cawing madly, from where he'd been perched on one of the tents overlooking both the space where Alex was training and a nearby cook.
"Continue the training." Alex barked the order, pushed down the vertigo, and then turned to the boy. "This happened at the Parade Ground?" she demanded. He just nodded a reply, still working to breathe. Alex clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "How long have they been fighting?" she asked calmly. He quickly looked at the sky and then the tent shadows.
"Four minutes at most," he stated. Alex squeezed his shoulder again, impressed at how fast he'd gotten to her. No wonder he was this winded.
"You did well," she told him. Alex sheathed her jian and started jogging toward the approaching heavy hoof beats and startled cries. She whistled again after a few steps and was rewarded with hearing Max's answering whinny as he came at a run. The big stallion snorted and huffed in time with his gallop, calling out another whinny in greeting as soon as he saw Alex running toward him. She held up her hands as if he was already beside her and he bolted past and spun back around, then charged up behind her on the same side that she was holding out her hands to. He slowed for a single stride so that she could get a grip to swing up his back, then she ordered him back into a run directly for the Parade Ground.
***
Verus was dying. His chest hurt beyond words and he could barely move his arms. The Prefect knocked him back and Verus fell again. He didn't know how many times he'd been knocked down, but this time he wasn't getting back up.
Mikayla had stopped trying to shake the ringing from her ears and was now simply staring, aghast, up at the Prefect who had attacked them. Verus gasped under the effort of trying to breathe, his body fighting him with every attempt. The Prefect kicked him as he stepped past, elevating the pain into levels that Verus hadn't known existed, and Mikayla's expression turned to horror as the officer closed on where she was sitting.
Alex saw the scene in a glance: everyone watching, nobody moving but the Prefect as he advanced on Mikey, Verus a terrible shade of blotching where he lay gasping like a fish out of water but still trying to inch closer to Mikey in her defense. Max's arrival drew the eye of every man on the Ground, and Alex was rewarded with seeing the gloating Prefect's face turn to alarm as Big Man battle charged toward him.
Alex turned Max at the last moment and threw herself into the Prefect, the man's nose exploding under her elbow. He fell hard, Alex on top of him and knocking all of the air from his body with the combined impact of their weight – most of hers centered where her knee was positioned over his solar plexus. She hit him in the face again for sheer satisfaction, bloodying her knuckles on the teeth she knocked out.
When Alex looked, Mikey was already with Verus. There was blood on the surgeon's chin and a hand-shaped mark on her face. Verus was... Alex used the helpless anger the vertigo gave her, a snarl pulling her lips back before she even looked up at the Tribunes that were running toward her, training pali – the only weapons available on the Parade Ground during training – held in offensive positions. The Legionnaires behind them were standing, immobile, and staring. She ordered Max to defend her family, knowing he would stop anyone who got past her from reaching Mikey and Verus, as her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the palus that the Prefect had dropped. Then the anger took over.
***
Mikey noted that she felt ill and immediately started checking her patient's responsiveness, getting a read on exactly where he was at. His heart hadn't been recovering well, and she had doubts about his liver. A couple of the direct hits he'd taken had been to the stomach. The potential to be very bad inside his torso right now was high. She verified everything she immediately needed to know and got to work.
Behind her, Alex commanded Max to defend and then actually growled. Mikey glanced over her shoulder and saw Alex look away from Verus and surge to her feet to meet the oncoming Tribunes. Mikey was grateful to see that Alex had only a wooden training sword in her hands. Amputations could not be fixed easily here, but broken bones set the same in any time. Mikey turned back and focused her full attention on her job.
***
Voices were yelling. Some were begging and others were just screaming. Alex ignored the sounds they made. Only motion was important. Strike, block, counterstrike and always stay in motion. Five men became three. Three became two. Two became four. Four became one. One became none. They were down, but they were moving. Her motion was trained to stop when theirs did. She stepped toward the nearest one that was moving.
"Hold." The voice cut through the sounds she was ignoring and her motion stopped. She looked at the targets scattered around her. They had been officers. She looked back at the man who had spoken. "Today's training is done," he said quietly. The familiar words hit her hard and Alex dropped the palus she was holding, straightening her stance. He nodded approvingly. "What happened here?" he called out, crossing his arms at his chest, the question aimed at the watching Legionnaires.
"A lesson on the weakness of women, Messenger, and the weakness they create in men," one of the Legionnaires called back, recognizing 'Aetius Vitus' from the day at the winter spring.
"Because of the women who are still training, Messenger," another man haltingly explained. "The Prefect wanted to demonstrate that First Fi–" he caught himself before finishing the rank. "That Celsus Calix had grown weak from a woman healer's medicine, and that women who attempt men's duties are weak and cause weakness, and that Rome detests weakness."
Sertor glanced at the broken Tribunes, his eyebrows arched up. Each of them was bloodied and none were attempting to stand (although three were attempting to crawl away). He looked at Max, who was still glaring and stomping at being denied joining the fight, then down at Mikayla where she was slowly reviving Verus in spite of the deathly coloring of his skin and her own injuries, then finally at Alex, who'd already caught her breath after the fight he'd just witnessed. He cocked a one-sided grin at his daughter before turning back toward the men.
"And have you learned women are weak?" he called out, smirking, receiving only a few nervous chuckles in reply.
Alex forced herself not to run to Verus while her gigno was talking, knowing she'd just be in Mikayla's way, and let the numbing shock of her gigno standing here turn off her emotions. The Prefect sat up, his breathing labored and his face and tunic bloody from the lost teeth that left an obvious gap he was gently prodding with fingertips.
"And you, Prefect, what have you learned today?" Sertor asked, his tone hard as he looked down on the officer.
"The Legion pays men who fight, whose bodies are strong," the Prefect stated, his words lisping, as his condescending glare landed on Verus. "Not weak men. Rome doesn't tolerate weakness."
"Augustus loves all who love Rome, he cares for loyalty. Men and women loyal to Rome he loves as he loves Rome herself," Sertor replied, his voice carrying to the edges of the Parade Grounds. "That is today's lesson," the disgust in his tone at still having to speak to the Prefect was obvious. "Where is your Legate?"
"In Verona," the fighting man who'd first recognized 'Aetius Vitus' answered when the Prefect didn't. "There is work for the Governor."
"How convenient that you're utterly alone," Sertor muttered. Suddenly the Prefect's eyes grew wide in recognition. Sertor kicked the man in the head, knocking him out cold.
"Who is in command of the field now?" Sertor called out, assuming his typical place in charge through stance and bearing. The fighting men looked, as one, first to the defeated Prefect and Tribunes, then to Alex, and then – when she didn't move – at each other until Heliodoro stepped forward. Alex felt the vertigo ebb as Verus started breathing on his own.
"I believe I am?" the Auxiliary Legate replied, his voice questioning and his shoulders not squaring until Alex nodded.
"Finish the session, then, and ensure your report to Celsus Mirificus includes that these men trained as proper Romans," Sertor nodded to everyone still standing.
The men nodded grimly, roughly proud at the compliment, and quickly returned to drills under Heliodoro. Mikey finally waved Alex over and she ran the few steps to her brother's side, skidding to her knees beside him and grabbing his hand in both of hers.
"You make my life difficult," she told him. "Now I must tell Ixillius about a fight I do not remember, and explain to Ennius that he will have no Tribunes and Prefect for many days."
"In that case, I give you permission to allow me to die," he rasped.
"And waste all my efforts?" Mikey asked.
Verus smiled weakly at her, the pain of still being alive obvious on every inch of him. He looked over Alex's shoulder as a shadow fell across her, the expression on his face growing as wide-eyed as the Prefect's had been. The older man shushed the younger, keeping his chin down and slightly adjusting his clothing that marked him falsely as a freeman.
"She isn't allowed to let you die yet because I have future need of you. Right now, though, I have to steal her away." He turned his gaze to his daughter. "My father was wooed into an engagement for you after learning you're here. I intercepted the messenger on his way out of the city because I was already coming to the camp, but we have to move quickly or the rumor of the engagement will outstrip everything else being said in Verona. Where is your husband?" Sertor glanced around.
"In Verona," Alex replied quietly, "Repairing the canals."
"He still fears me?" Alex nodded in reply and Sertor cursed quietly. "Make sure he knows we're coming back," Sertor ordered Verus. "We won't pass close to where they're working, and he needs to know what's happened from a true source instead of just rumor. I expect he'll take the news of losing his wife as poorly as I did if the wrong words reach him first."
Verus nodded, his skin finally starting to resemble the tones of someone alive. Mikey looked up from her patient and stared at the Imperial Messenger, suddenly seeing the resemblance.
"Alex, he's –"
"I know," Alex interrupted, her voice flat, mindful of listening ears approaching as people who'd been watching pressed closer to see if Verus was dead or not.
"Please come with me, Lady Avilia," Sertor requested politely, now that they had an audience. "Avilius Victrix, father to Avilius Tacito Severus, has arranged your engagement with the Emperor's cousin and requires your attendance in Verona."
Alex looked up at her gigno. He was waiting, head bowed, just another freeman speaking to a patrician. She wanted to hit him, and to hug him. Instead she turned away and kissed Verus on the forehead.
"Send for Victoria," Alex whispered so that only Verus and Mikey would hear her. "Keep her with you."
Verus closed his eyes against the thought of more threats nearby and nodded. Mikey took a moment to understand, but sent a boy once she realized there could still be problems. Alex kissed Verus's fingers before letting go to stand up and call Max closer.
"I already have a good husband. Let us settle this quickly with my grandfather," she told her gigno, loud enough for everyone listening to hear.
"Yes, Lady," he nodded politely before turning and walking to the horse he'd arrived on. Alex swung onto Max, holding him back from attacking the men she'd already beaten. Her gigno turned his little horse in the direction of the gate nearest the city but stopped and looked back, questioningly, when Alex didn't follow. Alex held Max in place until she saw Victoria. The younger woman looked over the scene quickly, her running steps accelerating to where Alex was waiting.
Alex didn't need to say anything. Victoria simply took up a defensive post where Max had been standing, her hand on the hilt of her jian. Her family protected, Alex nudged the big stallion to follow the little mare her gigno was riding.
&&&
The boy raced as fast as his legs would carry him into Verona. The message from his mother was too important to slow down as he dodged through the crowd – narrowly missing being trampled by the ox he startled – and darted through the city on the fastest route to where his uncle was working.
The plan hadn't worked. Celsus Calix and the Lady Healer still lived, so Celsus Mirificus would be vengeful and not distraught. The Lady Avilia had beaten the boy's father and uncles – badly – and she was definitely not crippled by grief. The boy's mother was certain she'd seen Avilius Tacito Severus entering the camp, masquerading as a freeman, and now had the Lady Avilia with him – in the city – going to the house of Avilius to meet the Emperor's cousin so the Lady and the cousin could be married.
The boy had no good news today. He slowed his steps as he got close so that he could catch his breath to speak. When he delivered his message, his uncle slapped him so hard he fell into the river. When he climbed out of the water and skulked back, his uncle looked ready with a message to take back to the boy's mother. Instead, he filled a silken purse with small coins and stones and, with the grin that the boy hated the most, sent a message in a completely different direction.
&&&
Section Summary: Naevius finds out from a Legion messenger boy that their planned attack failed: Sertor was at the parade ground, Verus and Mikey aren't dead, Alex isn't crippled by grief, and Sertor is bringing Alex into Verona to meet the Emperor's cousin. Naevius fills a purse with small coins and stones and sends the messenger to somewhere the boy wasn't expecting to go. And now, back to Book 3!
Alex watched her gigno's back. His left arm moved stiffly and his shoulder on that side sat crooked now. He'd been injured badly since she'd last seen him, but had healed as well as could be expected. She swallowed hard at the memory of him striding around a corner, hearing him calling to her to hurry up, and then he was just... not there. There were only footprints in the snow that abruptly ended. And then she'd been alone.
She followed him into the city, Max glaring at the passing pedestrians. She wanted to calm the big stallion, but he was agitated from the fighting back at the camp and because Alex was upset. She couldn't calm him until she could calm herself. Sertor turned into a quiet alley and stopped, backing his horse beside Max. His hands were shaking when he looked up at his daughter.
"I tried to get back," he stated, his voice shaking.
"Why did you want to leave?" she asked him, her own tone surprisingly steady.
"Want to?" he replied, nearly falling off his horse with the shock of the question. "You think I wanted to?"
"That is how the travel works," she shrugged. "If you want to go badly enough, then you travel. That was how... when Mark explained..." her voice trailed off from the look on her gigno's face. Sertor sat there in stunned silence for longer than a minute, trying to process what his daughter had just said.
"If wanting was the way that worked..." he shook his head. "I was taken from the Legion and given to your mother, and I was taken from you." His knuckles whitened on the reins in his hands. "I tried anything – everything – to get back to you."
"Like what?" she asked, switching to Russian so she could speak easier.
"First, everything I could do as a man." He reached up and brushed the single tear off her face, "then I tried the only thing I could conceive of to return to the gods."
"What happened?" She stared at him, her face unmoved as another tear started down her cheek.
"The cliff wasn't high enough," he stated, pointing at his crooked shoulder. "I spent a year with a tribe run by a king named Chlodochar, he found me nearly dead and dressed strangely, raving mad with grief. His wife healed me, for what that was worth at the time."
"He sends his respects," she said mechanically. "So does Lothar."
"You spoke with them?" he asked, nervous and hopeful at the same time.
Alex nodded and pulled out her small purse, fishing out her momma's pendant to give to her gigno. He stared at the medallion for a long moment, breaking into tears as the small disk dropped into the middle of his palm.
"I lived with them for a year after I was taken from you," he finally said, trying to explain. "When Rome sent the order and the 20th came for the children... I couldn't allow for Naevius to have Lothar, not after all that they'd done for me. I announced my return and adopted Lothar. Theudelinda hated me."
"She forgives you," Alex whispered, her voice starting to shake. Sertor slid off his horse and hid the pendant away inside his kit. He was openly crying when he looked back up at his daughter.
"Can you?" he asked.
Alex shook her head 'no' and crushed her gigno as if she'd struck him a mortal blow, then she slid off Max and fell into his arms. He smelled like leather and sweat and wool and he held her tightly as she cried, his own tears soaking into her hair and mixing with hers on her cheek. He suddenly laughed sharply.
"I have my daughter back!" he yelled at the walls, defying the gods. "I have my Dria," he added, his voice quiet and just for her to hear.
He pulled her down to sit beside him in the alley once their tears stopped, shoulder to shoulder as they'd sat at the end of every day when she was younger. He wanted to know everything of the thirteen years they'd been apart as quickly as she could speak. Alex fell into the conversation, Sertor gripping her hand tightly in both of his as if letting go meant that he would disappear again – or she would.