Homecoming

4 Days Later

Province of Desh'ea

"Lady Polgara, we've reached Desh'ea."

The horrid buzzing of the intercom violently yanked Polgara from the sweet embrace of her lover. For too long had she remained distracted that the days passed far too quickly. They arrived at the border separating her home province from the coastland, and would be at the threshold of the Palace Praxica within a few hours.

"Mother Lilith..." She breathed an oath as she rubbed her aching temples. The wine that tasted so sweet the other night had taken its toll, as did many other things the young woman chose to partake. Her legs were numb, her loins sore, and she ached from the dozen vicious love-bites Angronius left on her soft neck.

And yet, a strange feeling of contentment overruled her discomfort.

The savage love the gladiator showed her was nothing like the love of civilized men. She imagined that the one who would first take her and claim her virtue would be gentle. She thought it would be a sort of holy sacrament, or something out of the romantic smut novels she used to steal from her mother's personal collection of tomes and read under the covers of her bed.

Angronius wasn't gentle, Polgara's aching body proved to be testament enough to that fact. Not gentle, but neither was he too rough.

With his touch her body, one she once feared would be like glass in his hands, was of malleable clay. Every night they've lain together, Angronius broke her, molded her- filled her. His burning touch awaked desires within Polgara, desires that were awfully too natural for her sophisticated upbringing to find welcoming.

Primal, hungry and wanting. These were the feelings Angronius gave her, and were the feelings Polgara gave him in turn.

Angronius had coveted Polgara for a long time, far longer than anyone in Nuceria. She was his slave, shackled to his will by her unrestrained passion, as much as he was hers. All the pain he endured until that moment seemed worth suffering through over and over again, if it meant he would have her love forever. Determined to keep her, he did things to her that only the mind of a demigod could conceive.

By the time he was done with her, she would never again look at another man and feel the same.

As he gazed upon her that morning, marked by his own hands, Angronius felt his chest swell with pride. Polgara, disheveled from their revelry the other night, never looked so beautiful. The trappings of civilization were gone, leaving only her, free from the dazzling paints in her eyes and the enthralling robes of nobility.

Now she could rightly say she was a woman.

Polgara turned to look at Angronius, then snatched the furs to cover herself when she discovered him leering at her like some old lecherous priest. She stopped when she realized the futility of her efforts, for Angronius' eyes had had more than their fair share of her for the last few nights.

Still, she knew she needed to tidy up and get dressed. The day for her to face her parents had come, and she needed to look, at the very least, presentable as befitted a noblewoman of House Thal'kyr.

Aware that Angronius lingered to gaze upon her as she dressed herself, Polgara commanded him to do the same. "Make yourself decent, Angronius. If I am to defend you, I would not have you stand before my parents naked."

"It would make quite the story, that's certain." He replied, donning his battleskirt and greaves.

"Angronius." Polgara said as she sat down, "I want you to promise me something."

The gladiator fastened his bracers and took a knee beside the bed. He said nothing, but his eyes alone bade her to continue.

"Whatever happens in there, you will not raise a hand against my father and mother." The woman declared, "Although we've had our bitter disagreements, I still love them. Do you understand?"

Angronius nodded.

"Promise me that you won't kill them."

A pause, but the barbarian eventually answered. "I promise."

Satisfied, Polgara took the giant's face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his. "You will be free, Angronius. That day comes close, and we'll be together."

"The father and mother you seek to protect against my wrath will never approve."

"I don't care. You are mine, and I will do as I please."

"What thing birthed this new courage in you?" Angronius teased with a grin.

"Love makes men mad." Polgara quotes some old scholar's verse, "If this is true, I have lost my mind. And with it, all doubts of myself."

"That makes two of us, and what a pair we are. Madman..." Angronius kissed her cheek, "...and madwoman. At last you know a measure of what it is that drives me towards rebellion."

Angronius loved life, a free life. This was, as Polgara saw it, the secret to his strength. No shackles could hold him back, neither swords nor wounds. Perhaps not even the love of a woman.

The thought of it scared Polgara, and she considered asking if it was so. She wanted to know if anything stood in the way of his freedom, even her, would he willingly cut her down as he easily did with countless others? She wanted to know, but also didn't want to know.

She feared what his answer would be, and so she remained silent.

"I yearn to have you again." Angronius groaned in her ear, feeling his blood course hot with fresh and vibrant desire. His marauderous hands touched her thighs once more, fingers squeezing and kneading the tender flesh between and beneath them. They parted willingly, welcoming his touch with the warmth radiating from her core. His passion was contagious, and already the woman could feel her heart pounding at her breast.

"Off me, you animal!" Polgara giggled, pushing him away. "If you ravage me again, I fear by year's end I'd bear your child."

"You speak of it as though that's a bad thing." Angronius said quietly.

"All good things must come at the right time." The noblewoman replied as she smoothened out her skirts, "If you sired a bastard well before what I've planned for us, the child will be born a slave. Such is the law and will of Nuceria."

"I...I did not know that."

"No, you don't. Just as you don't know many things of the world." Polgara rested her elbow on her lap as she leaned forward, "I've known you for only a short while, but you are driven by the same instincts that guide all men. Impulse, as charming as it seems at times, will often mean the death of you."

Her words were reminiscent of his teacher's greatest lesson, "Patience... is the virtue of the cunning."

"Exactly."

"You've taken my seed, Polgara. It may have already taken root."

"There are ways to avoid that..." She replied, referring to her skills in the arcane. "...but restraint is always the best solution."

"Keep wearing things like that and I won't be left with much." Angronius said with a wily smirk. "So what is it exactly that you've planned for both of us?"

Polgara sighed, changing the subject. "Let me worry about that. You must focus on honing your strength to fine edge, that you might fare well against the coming battles."

About an hour and a half later, they arrived at the gates of the Palace Praxica. Much had changed since Angronius left the ludus.

Deprived of one of his most promising titans, so soon after showing favor to him, Oenomaus surprised everyone at the gladiator school when he volunteered to serve House Thal'kyr as one of its gladiators. His duties as doctore would still be his highest priority, but should Lord Marcellus feel the need for a more experienced hand among his warriors, Oenomaus would always be ready to fight for his name.

His decision of adding the doctore to his gladiators' number saw their morale swell overnight. Many of the slaves respected Oenomaus, and to have him fight at their side, a champion and freeman, was a rare honor.

Angronius' return came as a surprise, equal parts pleasant and unpleasant. Lord Marcellus and Lady Poledra of House Thal'kyr, for instance, reacted quite strongly to the arrival of their disobedient daughter and their rebellious champion. Half of the gladiators, however, hailed his coming as a friend and brother too long from their arms.

Etrusca leaped into his face, barking and licking happily. He was joined by Rissio, fine hoplomachus as he turned out, who grasped Angronius' arms and clapped his back playfully.

"Little Brother, welcome home!" He greeted, taking his friend's lack for shackles and chains to be a good sign. "What, the free life didn't suit you as well as you thought it would?"

Angronius turned to watch his mistress ascend the stairs in the outer courtyard to face her parents. His fate, his very life, rested in her soft hands. Trust was a tricky thing, but he alone chose where to place it and he placed it where he thought it was justly deserved. He chose to trust Polgara, "It was short-lived, but I will have it again."

"Your optimism is commendable, but I doubt that after your escape the Master would even consider-"

Angronius frowned and looked his friend in the eye, "I don't fight for Marcellus. I fight for Polgara. It is by her hand and in the eyes of the law, when I've slain my hundred, that I will be freed."

Rissio's brow rose slowly and his arms crossed over his chest as he put two and two together. The knowing smirk on his handsome face grew when he realized what happened, "Oh...Oh, I see. You lucky desert cat, you've not only escaped the jaws of death by tempting fate- you've been bedding the Mistress too!"

"See? That's what a little bit of freedom can get you. Well worth the risk, I assure you." Angronius said as he led Etrusca to the frateria, where many of the gladiators who loathed him pressed at the bars with hatred in their eyes. Chief among them was Cannicus, who despised Angronius above all others.

"Greetings, pup." The Champion of Sol spat.

"Champion." Angronius replied, showing a level of respect that he reserved only for the title Cannicus held. A modicum, at best, but just enough to soothe the man's burning ego. He decided he had better things to do than fight the proud gladiator and show him the error of his ways. He retreated to his old cell, eager to rest a bit before the next unexpected visitor came to bother him.

The visitor that came first was Lucretia.

"Angron!" She embraced her brother, unashamed to show some sisterly affection even in the hard world of the arena. "You live! It's so good to have you back!"

The warm welcome came as surprise, a pleasant one, and Angronius felt compelled to return it. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and pushed her away before the display grew too complicated.

"Believe me, I don't share the sentiment."

If she were anyone else, Lucretia would've taken his reply as an insult. But by then, she knew of Angronius' greatest desire and understood his frustration. "I know you wish to flutter away, to fly far from this place. But you're no bird, Angron. You're a gladiator, and your place is here until you've honored this house and rightly gain your freedom. You can't seize it by fleeing, you earn it by fighting."

"I know, I know." Angronius grumbled.

"Bah, then I have spoken well beyond what is needed." Lucretia pulled Etrusca away from him and started rubbing the war hound's shaggy mane. It was clear that in Angronius' absence, the dog had extended its trust to many of his fellow gladiators.

"You've bonded with him." He observed.

"I cared for him when you left." She replied, "Oenomaus wanted to throw him back into the arena as crowd-appetizer. I knew you would've wished a better end for him, so I took him in as my own. But now that you're back, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to fight alongside you."

"Thank you, sister." The gladiator said.

"Lucretia." Oenomaus came through the door just as the pair finished talking, "Give us the room, I would have words with Angronius."

The gladiatrix obeyed, leaving the teacher to speak alone with his errant pupil.

"I gave you those axes as a gift, to use them to reap better glories in the arena and secure your freedom." The doctore growled, clearly taking Angronius' actions as of late personally. "And what did you do with them? Stole them from the armory like some common thief and shed Nucerian blood with their teeth."

"They were in my way."

"This! This is why you'll never earn the favor of the crowd! This is why your victories will always remain hollow, passing away like ash in the wind as your rebellious nature corrodes the memory of it!"

"Do you think I care what the crowd thinks of me?" Angronius asked.

"Maybe not." Oenomaus loomed over him as a father with rebuke his disobedient son, "I think you would if you'd just fucking listen and hear what I have to say."

Etrusca snarled as a warning, feeling his master's life threatened by the old gladiator. His teeth were ready to tear flesh, his master only needed to say the word. He stopped when Angronius commanded him to lie down in the far corner of the room.

"The lanista's will can change the life of a slave, but the will of the crowd can move mountains. It isn't Marcellus who decides when you are free, it is them! The same people you spurned when you decided to spare that Hyrkan dog in the arena. Is it a wonder they hate you for defying their will?"

Angronius bit back the retort he had ready in his mouth. He acted on Polgara's will, but he also didn't wish to execute Ohn.

Oenomaus beat his chest with his fist, "Look at me and let my life be your lesson! I served the will of the people, I pleased them with my offerings of blood- I wanted for nothing! Freedom was my reward, taken only in gratitude but it was not my most fervent desire. I became a teacher of gladiators willingly so I might teach you all the same. To serve something greater than yourself and be glorified for it."

"To serve the whims of a howling mob? Madness!"

"This is the way, you fool! The only way!"

Angronius was tired of hearing the same thing over and over. From Marcellus, to Polgara, to Old Oenomaus. He suffered through another boring lecture from the veteran gladiator, listened to it in silence and when it was finished, he smashed the wall with his fist. All the frustration of his failed escape attempt, his return to the life of a slave, taken out in one powerful punch that leveled the sturdy concrete into rubble.

Etrusca's head reared up in surprise, he let his jaw slacken to pant excitedly at his master's display of violence.

The gladiator withdrew his hand and dusted it off. "Fine. If the people of Nuceria want a showing, I'll give them one the likes of which they've never seen before."

High up in the halls of the Palace Praxica, the walls echoed with the shouts and shrieks of the Thal'kyr family.

Polgara, at long last, faced her parents. Never before did she feel the need to fight for what was hers. All her life, she'd been handed everything as she was priveleged to have. She dreaded the day she would have to face her own parents, avoided it through letters or outright silence.

Neither of those could keep the overdue meeting from happening, and so Polgara let it happen. She argued for Angronius' life, as much as she would argue for her own. Anyone else wouldn't have felt obligated to do so, but not her. Angronius saved her life before, and whether he be slave or freeborn, she owed him that life.

He was more than her slave now, much much more.

"What angers you so, Papa?" Polgara asked, "The way I see it, my meddling has saved this house from spending such an unnecessarily large sum."

"I don't care about the money..." Marcellus growled, doing his best to rein in his temper. "... what angers me so is the fact that the rebellious cur you fight so hard to keep alive- is now under my fucking roof and mingling with my gladiators! First the Colosseum Primus, and now this! It's bad enough that all of Nuceria sees me as failing lanista who couldn't control his own gladiators, now our own titans will lose respect for the name of House Thal'kyr."

"They will not." Polgara insisted, "That same rebellious cur you're so driven to kill to soothe your wounded pride will see to it."

Marcellus' eyes grew wide at his daughter's sharp words. His hand moved in accordance with his thoughts, he willed it to strike her as he did before. But he couldn't. Polgara had put a spell on him, taking control of his body but leaving his mind free to understand the changes that she would have for their entire household.

"Angronius is mine, Papa." She said, her eyes darting back and forth from her father to her mother. Marcellus was understandably livid, but Poledra looked on with amazement- even with a little amusement. "I came back to make peace between us and have you know that the name of House Thal'kyr would remain untarnished. My champion will fight for us, make everything as it was and I will see him free when he has legally served his hundred battles. You will not stop this."

"How dare you raise your hand against your own father!"

"No more than you dared to strike your own daughter for doing a righteous act." Polgara struggled to maintain her composure, for it hurt her to fight the man who raised her in such an ignoble and treacherous manner. "I don't want to fight you, Papa. I want peace to return to this house. But if you are set on killing my slave, you will have to kill me too."

Inwardly, the young sorceress groaned. She hoped to keep her affections secret. But if her parents caught on her meaning despite the flaring tensions of the moment, they certainly didn't show it. When she felt her father calm down enough, she released her hold on him.

Marcellus cursed and bellowed, but he turned away from his daughter lest he did something else he'd regret. He briefly considered disowning Polgara and tossing her out with Angronius.

Then, Lady Poledra finally spoke. She didn't approve of the downwards spiral their family was heading to, and she endeavored to salvage whatever was left to form a semblance of the shattered whole. "It is foolish to think that things will be as it was, Eanna. But I will not turn away my little girl. You may stay, and your animal too, but don't make the mistake that you are of good standing in our eyes. You've hurt us both and dishonored our family name."

She didn't say it, but Polgara was able to read between the lines.

She dishonored the Thal'kyr name, true enough, but there was room to make amends.

Reksia, Volunca Hill Outer Grounds

Although it could be said that things were going according to plan, the little inconveniences that happened along the way vexed Marsus Acraesius to no end. He was left without a favored gladiator champion to bargain for Marcellus' support. Hyrkan's noble families had no intention of aligning themselves with House Thal'kyr.

Indeed, the arena held considerable influence over the mood of the republic as a demagogue's charismatic rants. The power of the mob, combined with its fickle heart, made for a poor tool to exploit. Still, the Proconsul needed every tool at his disposal. The mob, though as unpredictable as wildfire, would have its uses.

Acraesius made his way through the crowded streets of beautiful and ancient Reksia. His cadre of elite legionnaires followed him on jetbikes, while he rode on a fancy transport car, surrounded by the body slaves he procured from Hyrkan's markets a few days before.

Beautiful, supple little things they were. Tanned by the unforgiving sun and shaped perfectly under honest toil in the shores of Hyrkan, the slaves presented a different flavor to the Proconsul's tastes. And yet, as they caressed and attended him, Acraesius could not find satisfaction. His thoughts turned to Polgara of House Thal'kyr, again.

A conqueror at heart, he could and would not suffer the loss of something he deemed already claimed by his hand.

But as he thought long and hard about what went wrong that night, he realized something. For too long he'd taken whatever he wanted, did as he pleased and was all the merrier for it. He realized that things were not the same for a maiden of high standing. Polgara was no Stygian girl for him to take and ravage on a whim, she was Nucerian noblewoman and deserved to be treated like one.

At this, he despaired, but clung to the hope that he might still right his wrongs and claim her the proper way.

Distracted, Acraesius did not see the roadblock just down the street, hastily erected by a group of armed men. The district was deserted, turned into the site upon which the Proconsul's enemies would lay him low.

Heavy stubbers, mounted on tripods, fired from the windows and rooftops. The noise awakened the warriors within the hearts of the legionnaires, and although half their number were killed in the ambush, the elite guardsmen crashed their jetbikes into the buildings as impromptu warheads. They leapt into the fray fearlessly, returning fire to cover their charge.

Acraesius' car hit the roadblock and crashed into a nearby distillery building. The Proconsul was quick to recover, but he did not run.

His foul mood needed its moment to let loose, and so the general picked up a stubber and fended for himself. He commanded his slaves to take cover further inside the building, not because he held any attachment to them but because he'd paid a fortune to procure them. To him, it would be a waste to have them die so soon without sampling a taste of their carnal offerings.

Someone wanted him dead, even more so than others to so brazenly attempt an assassination within the walls of the capital.

As he and his men fought back and gained the momentum, Acraesius vowed not only to find those responsible for the deed but to step up his plans of seizing power.

The Grand Augur had a point. Nuceria was dying.

But Acraesius would breathe life back into her, he just needed a little more time.