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nex·us

noun \ˈnek-səs\: a relationship or connection between people or things; Latin, from nectere - to bind

The Nexus

By Rita C.

Part I – Meeting you

Germania, around 73 B.C

The sound of horses' hoofs treading heavily on the forest's soil announced the return of the men long before they could be seen by any of the villagers. And, as the approaching sounds became increasingly louder, it became easy to discern the laughter and the cheers. It had been a good hunt.

Agron slowly walked out of his home, rubbing the flesh just above his heart, still tender from recent wound, and ignored his mother's stern warning to remain inside, as he walked out to meet his brother. Hunting was not one of Duro's better skills, and despite the tone of voices announcing good things, he was still concerned. And, as he approached the edge of the village, he knew he had cause to.

The large party of men approaching the village seemed unscathed, yet they also did not look as they had been hunting at all. Instead of deer and wild boar, the men carried with themselves what looked to be spoils of battle.

Duro was amongst them, his eyes scanning the growing crowd, and Agron sighed in relief, realizing he was unharmed. As Duro saw him, he began confidently strolling towards his older brother, a smile splitting his face.

"Brother! Heart lifts at seeing you again. How is your wound?"

Agron held him to his chest, placing a gentle kiss on top of his head, before replying.

"It is good to see you again. And the wound is better – our healer says it will be a short time until I can accompany you once again." Looking over his brother towards the rest of the party, he added: "Although to what I am not entirely confident. I was under impression you had gone hunting."

Duro grinned. "We were, but it became a different sort of hunt."

Agron was not a patient man. Playfully hitting his brother in the back of the head, using just a tad more force than necessary, he pressed on.

"What the fuck happened Duro?"

"We were attacked."

It was only the knowledge that his brother was safe and standing in front of him that kept Agron from lashing out.

"Fuck the gods Duro! I can see that. What happened?"

"There was no game to be found anywhere, so we kept venturing more and more to the west. And then, without any warning signals, we came across some Gauls."

Agron narrowed his eyes. "And they attacked you?"

Duro's grin turned sheepish. "We might have attacked them first." He yelped as Agron slapped his head again, this time more forcefully.

"What the fuck Duro! The elders have spent all summer striking peace with the Gauls. They will have your balls for this."

"It was not my doing. I merely helped my countrymen."

Agron closed his eyes, his hand once again rubbing his still tender wound. Fuck the gods, they had made a fucking problem out of what should have been a simple hunting trip.

"I have a present for you."

Duro's voice sounded eager, almost childlike. Agron knew it was much too soon to appease things with his brother, but he found himself helpless to stop the smile that found its way onto his lips.

"Please tell me it is not one of those awful things the fucking Gauls use as armor."

Sensing his brother's returning good spirits, Duro smiled again. "I would not bring you back something so ugly. No, this gift is quite beautiful. I believe you will like it." He stepped slightly to the side before signaling something with his hand.

Agron saw someone move in their direction, before his breath failed him entirely. The boy was beautiful, with golden skin stretching over a small body, long inky black hair and huge brown eyes. He stopped directly in front of them, before bowing his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the ground.

Agron could see that, for all the liberty in his movements, his hands were strongly bound together.

"This is your new slave, Nasir."

Damascus, around 73 B.C.

The great market of Damascus was, as always, buzzing with excitement. Coming from all sides, one could hear the voices of people from all over the land, selling products one would have difficulty pronouncing their names, let alone knowing what they were and their uses. Camels and donkeys made their presence known amidst the sound of other, more exotic animals. Housewives and slaves alike haggled the cost of such products, with shouts being overheard occasionally, when one of the two parties felt they were being deceived.

The crowd, however, easily parted ways to allow a certain group to move freely across the market. As the son of one of the richest men in Damascus, Nasir's party was known and respected throughout the city, allowing passage to be made quietly and effectively.

Since the recent attack on his life, however, one that had left him with a gaping wound to his side, struggling to survive, Nasir had lost some of his usual easiness around the chaos that were the lower parts of his home city. It was why he was back here to begin with. And, as he reached his destination, he felt his resolve settle back. He had made the right decision.

The eastern edge of the market housed the sellers of two of the most important labor forces in the land. Standing just outside the walls that delimited the city's limits stood the animal sellers, the smell alone announcing their presence for miles around. And just on the inside of those walls was the slave market.

Nasir had reached his destination.

His own slaves made haste to find Nasir a place to sit, somewhere in the shade, and near enough the auction block so that he could get a clear view. As one of the wealthiest men in the city, the task was easily completed, and soon Nasir was settled.

The first few batches of slaves were incredibly disappointing. Fickle, feeble men, too thin and afflicted by disease to be worthy of much attention. The heat of the day was mounting, and his own slaves busied themselves making sure their master lacked for nothing.

As a new batch of slaves was brought forth Nasir surveyed them carefully. The speaker announced them as hailing from the ruins of the once mighty Carthage. Nasir could see it – they were taller than any other man present, and impressively built. Their torsos showed a myriad of scars, undoubtingly gained in battle. They were fierce and intimidating. Yes, they would do.

Nasir nodded to one of his slaves and the young man immediately got up and headed towards their owner to secure the deal. A moment later and the impressive men were being led off the auction block, much to the crowd's discontentment.

Nasir eyed the following batches of slaves disinterestedly. He had what he had come here for and was merely making sure he did not miss something of note.

The speaker announced a new batch, this one hailing from the wild lands of Germania. Nasir eyed them curiously – they were tall and well built, although not nearly as much as his recent purchases.

He eyed one of them more carefully than the rest – the one to the right, with something in his hair that looked like braids, although Nasir was fairly sure that upon closer inspection it would turn out to be something completely different. He had clear eyes, clearer than any Nasir had ever seen before, even from the distance. And as the slave looked around the crowd, looked directly at him, instead of lowering eyes to the ground as he was expected to, Nasir felt something in his stomach churn.

Without allowing much thought to storm his mind, Nasir looked directly to his returning slave, who promptly approached him.

"That one, with the scar on his chest."

The slave looked back, towards the block, trying to identify the slave being pointed out.

"I want him."

The slave looked back to his master before respectfully bowing his head.

"Your will, my hands."

Rome, around 73 B.C.

The Coliseum was, as usual, thoroughly packed.

Celebrations commanded by the Senate were in full course, filling the busy streets of Rome to its full capacity. Plays were performed in improvised stages in all corners of the city, their actors eager to gain patronage from an influential citizen. Music coming from strange instruments was played in every street corner, performers desperately seeking coin thrown to them by passersby. Chariot races were performed in the Field of Mars, with champions coming from all over the Empire, eager to flaunt their skills in the heart of the Republic. But the most eagerly attended part of the celebrations was, undoubtingly, the gladiators. Beastly looking men fighting to the death in front of a roaring crowd demanding blood.

Agron and Duro sat in the middle of said roaring crowd, packed tightly inside the arena, trying to keep up some semblance of conversation among the deafening noise.

"That was incredible! Did you see how he cut off his arms?" Duro's voice reminded Agron of an overly excited child, and couldn't help but to tease his younger brother by pointing it out. Duro wasn't deterred though, as he decided to pout next. "I wish we could have gotten better seats. We could be closer to them."

"Father isn't overly happy with us being here to begin with. Do you care to explain to him that you spent more of his precious gold on better seats at the arena?" Agron's stern look was lost as Duro's attention had already been diverted to the fat roman speaker standing at the pulvinar, announcing the next match.

"A Thracian! They say those people are more like beasts than men. This one should be good, don't you think? Agron?"

Duro turned towards his older brother, annoyed at being ignored, only to find him intently staring off into nothing. He looked around the crowd, squinting his eyes against the harsh light. No, that actually was not accurate. He was staring at something. Or rather someone.

A grin spread across Duro's features as he saw him. The young man – Duro wanted to call him a boy but in reality he couldn't be much younger than himself, and Duro hated it when he was addressed as such – the man was truly remarkable, there was no complaining about his brother's taste. A mane of raven black hair fell down his shoulders and back, carefully braided to show off his neck and compliment all that golden skin. They were too far away to tell but he could swear the man's eyes were as black as his hair, seemingly pulling him in.

"These seats have a nice view though, do they not?" His voice dripped with amusement at seeing his older brother so entranced.

"Who is that?"

Duro couldn't help but narrow his eyes. "How the fuck should I know?" An idea struck him then and he allowed the smirk that formed to be on full display as he turned towards Agron. "Want me to discover?"

He started to stand when a strong hand clamped his shoulder, forcing him back down. "Sit the fuck down! Are you out of your fucking mind? Oh shit, he's looking at us."

"Is that not a desirable thing?" Never one to pass up an opportunity to aggravate his older brother, Duro couldn't help but to raise his hand and wave at the man. He seemed surprised, as expected, but after a moment raised his hand and gave a small wave back.

Agron forcefully turned his back to the man to glare fully at his younger brother. Duro was certain he would have been hit across the head had the man's eyes not have still been looking in their direction.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Agron's voice was serious, having made many a man shiver at that tone before. Duro, however, was not one of them.

"Don't be an idiot brother. He's looking at us – at you. And he waved at us."

"Only because you did so first. He's obviously too polite to ignore a dumb fuck like you."

Duro waved a hand dismissively, before standing back up. This time, Agron wasn't fast enough to stop him. "Come, we should properly introduce ourselves."

"Fuck the gods Duro, sit down!" Agron hissed at his brother, but Duro was already moving, pushing past the seemingly endless crowd, towards the incredibly tantalizing man that was still looking at them. Agron had no other option but to follow.

Across the stands, Dagan let out a bellowing laugh as his brother's eyes seemed to bulge out as he watched the two men heading their way. Nasir had been stealing glances towards them ever since first casting eyes upon the taller of the two, as they were making their way inside the arena. Now though, he had on a striking resemblance to one of their father's wild horses first being brought into the stables as he watched them coming their way.

"What troubles mind little one? I thought you would be pleased at this turn of events."

Nasir visibly gulped before hissing towards his brother. "They're headed this way. Towards us."

Dagan laughed again at the distressed look upon his brother's face. It was easy to forget sometimes how young Nasir truly was, being the more calm and considerate of the two. Now, however, he showed his age, as he fidgeted in his seat, obviously looking for some sort of escape route. "Chin up, brother. It's too late for that. They're here."

Nasir looked up, eyes straying past the darker of the two men, finally resting on a pair of clear eyes that were staring right back. At him.