A/N: This one shot is entirely the brain child of maevelin. She wrote the outline and I filled in the blanks. I hope it does her vision justice.

This was not what she wanted.

This was not what continued prayer and devotion should have delivered as their fate.

This was not how she had envisioned birthing their child.

Sibyl cried out, searing pain stabbing its way down her lower back, bowing her body. If she had strength and body was not large and cumbersome, pain would have arched her off the ground.

At present, she lay upon a hastily gathered blanket, cushioned by leaves upon damp forest floor. Remaining rebels were still upon path, trying to find a place they might call home, a place that would offer opportunity to build a new life, a place that would bring happiness, a place, they all prayed, that would bring some measure of peace.

Air entered her lungs in ragged gasps, the birthing cause of agony and pain yet unparalleled. It had been as such for hours, the child lodged inside of her, as if it too did not wish to greet a world that did not house its father.

The survivors of the bloody rebellion were a mere handful. Expecting her birth, they had moved with slowed pace in past weeks, awaiting what they knew would come. With camp beside a small stream, darkness had descended before birthing pains began. Agron had lit a fire, brought water and placed a blanket upon leaves gathered to offer a soft place to lie. There was very little other creature comforts to be had.

She gasped as another pain sliced its way through her as sharpened blade upon ripened flesh, temporarily robbing of breath and sight as her eyes closed, tears squeezing from between clumped lashes.

"Breathe Sibyl, breathe," Laeta coaxed, running a cool cloth across her sweat streaked face.

Sibyl opened her eyes and met her friends'. Involuntarily, wave upon wave of misery flooded every crevice of her mortal form, feeling almost as powerful as the pain of childbirth. Laeta's own eyes filled at sight of such sorrow.

"All will be well," she said, pushing damp strands of hair from her face.

Sibyl turned her face into her friend's hand, her tears making contact slick. "I cannot do this absent ending in sight. Laeta, it hurts."

"I know, Sibyl." Laeta knew she spoke of more than the pain of birthing. Her soul had shattered, her emotions crippled since Gannicus had left this life. "But soon you will meet your child. A beautiful daughter or son. Remember how we bent mind and tongue towards who the babe might favour?"

Sibyl nodded, face crumbling as a sob burst forth. Laeta continued, her voice calm, soothing. "Golden hair, with beautiful eyes, just like its father."

"His smile," Sibyl gasped, pressing lips together in futile effort to stem agony.

"And temperament and good humour."

"I miss him. Feeling so intense, I taste the longing within my mouth. I dream of him." She moaned, her body stiff as she reared in pain. "I yearn for him."

"Laeta," Nasir said, their eyes meeting. It had been hours and still the child would not come. "We have to move the child from within." Nasir, the only among them who had aided in many births, hovered between her legs, his arms drenched in blood that was not his own.

Another wave of pain infused body and Sibyl screamed, sobbed, wished in moment for death's comfort. She felt as if the gods ripped her apart, forcing sharpened blades into her back with relentless force. Another scream. Laeta's own heart broke at the sound, echoing into the darkness of their forest sanctuary.

"I have seen it done before," Nasir said. "Although I have not attempted such a thing myself."

Laeta looked to Sibyl and back to Nasir. There was so much blood everywhere.

"Do it," Sibyl whispered.

Nasir gave her an encouraging smile. "Pain will be hard to bear," he cautioned.

"See it done."

Laeta placed a thick piece of wood between her teeth, urging her to bite down. "Take a deep breath," she said, turning her head and nodding to Nasir.

Sibyl grasped at Laeta, feeling Nasir's hands working below. For a moment, she could not even scream, pain literally robbing her of thought and voice.

"All this blood!" Laeta gasped. But her voice was distant sound, coming as if from across a vast chasm. She felt her life seep from her, leaving her cold, absent will. Tears of pain, misery and such utter hopelessness rained from her eyes.

Their child could not be born. She could not bring its life forth. She was too weak. Guilt wrapped its arms around her, mocking in its intensity.

"Sibyl!" she heard Laeta call out to her. "Stay with us."

Then she heard Nasir call too. "Sibyl, I see its head."

In the distance, she heard the cry of an infant. Heart faltered, though she could not muster strength to open eyes and gaze upon beloved blessing.

"Your son!" Laeta cried. "You have a son."

Sibyl could hear the tears in Laeta's voice. But it was too late. She lay absent strength, only wish that endless pain would cease. To walk upon the shores and be embraced by the man she loved, offering him glimpse of the life they had created.

Gannicus, she called. It was not a sound; it was not even whispered word. It was silent, inside of her, reverberating as if words broke forth from her lips, a scream. Gannicus! And then all went dark.

Consciousness seeped into mind and she stood quietly, attempt made to gain bearing. She heard rush of breeze as it whispered through trees, rustling leaves in its wake. She felt the sun, its golden glow pouring heat into frozen limbs. She heard birds, their songs lifting heart and forcing eyes to see.

She stood beside a lake, sun piercing through thick, rolling grey mists which swirled around her. She turned a full circle, taking in what she could. In the distance she barely saw a forest and heard birds within its canopy; the mist making it hard to fully ascertain what eyes saw.

It was strange, yet she felt no fear, no pain. Longing carried within for so long had faded, leaving only peace in its wake.

She turned again, trying to decipher greater detail. Still the mist swirled, offering glimpses of mountain peaks, of a vast, endless lake, a field of blooming flowers, of utter peace.

But then something moved. A figure, making way towards her. Hand fled to throat, unsure of action to take. Unable to stop self, she took cautious step towards movement, feet moving absent consent, trusting absent understanding.

Heart quickened, racing fast, galloping wildly. She breathed deeply, trying to discern form, unable to contain unexpected excitement. Mist parted. And eyes beheld sweetest sight.

"Gannicus?" she breathed, no more than a whisper upon the breeze.

A man strode with purpose, strong, muscled limbs carrying him towards her. Eyes travelled from legs encased in leather, resting momentarily upon white idol tied securely to the belt of the man's trousers. Her eyes already filled as unable to stop their swift accent, she saw broad shoulders, long, golden hair and those smiling eyes.

He stood before her now, his smile broad, lazy, teasing, corners of his eyes wrinkled with mirth. He lifted a hand, softly, gently brushing at the hair that had fallen across her face. As his fingers brushed her skin, she swallowed, eyes closing absent control to stop lidded decent.

"Do you not know me?" he teased.

She launched self towards the sound, straight into loving arms. His laughter, a loud, boisterous chuckle filled space around them, embracing her, filling her soul.

Arms, strong and warm clasped her to him tightly, his lips branding its way from top of her head, across her ears, her throat, eyes, nose and finally, "open your eyes" he settled his lips upon hers, their gazes locked.

If she had means to crawl inside of another, she would do so, so intense was yearning to be close to him. Their lips collided, unable to get its fill. Her hands fisted in his hair and she cried out at the sheer joy of feeling the strands between her fingers.

He pulled her closer still, his one arm around her waist, the other angling her head to afford him better access to the sweet nectar her mouth offered absent reservation.

"Gannicus," she gasped, giving him no opportunity to respond, her lips sliding back across his own.

When body reminded that breath was needed, Sibyl separated their lips, but only far enough to place her forehead to his, her fingers tracing where mouth had just been. His own breathing was laboured, yet he placed soft kisses to the pads of the fingers that traced across his lips.

Around them, mist had cleared, their love the fuel to sunlight so bright. Finally, she was at peace.

"I have died," she said. "I am with you." Their lips touched again. She took moment to look around. "This is the afterlife?"

He took her hand, drawing her with him. Together, they walked towards water's edge, the lake vast, its glassy surface calm.

"We are at the gates to the next life. You have not passed through." She frowned up at him, his eyes clear, roaming across her face as if starved for the sight of her. "I have not passed though," he said. "It is where a soul leaves the mortal world and awaits those loved and lost."

She looked around. There was no sound. "You are absent company?"

"Oenamaus joined Melitta. They have passed on. Spartacus met beloved wife. They too have passed beyond this world. But there are others here. They too wait for those who would join them upon the shores of eternity."

Her eyes filled, her lips drawn to his of own accord. "You wait for me."

"I will always be here, waiting for you, looking after you," he vowed gently. There was something in his voice that set soul upon edge. "But you cannot stay."

Already her head began to move, negating his words. He continued, locking gaze with hers, their bodies aligned, close. "It is not yet your time."

"I do not want to leave you. Gannicus, I cannot. Do not make request of me."

But from a distance, as wave drawing closer to the shore, she heard an infant cry. Her eyes met his and he smiled. "Our son," he said, pride radiating from him.

His smile lit something within her and she found self smiling in return, her hand tracing the lines which curved around his mouth. At her feet, water lapped. She looked down, surprised. She gasped. Within waters reflection, she sawLaeta holding a babe. She knew it was their own. Babe was inconsolable, crying, searching for the absent warmth of its mother.

Her hand tightened on his, her heart yearning to comfort their son. Vision was like a dream and yet the undeniable pull she felt towards the infant brought tears to her eyes.

"He is our blessing," Gannicus said, squeezing hand in return and placing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Heart yearns for him. As it does for you." Her eyes reflected her pain.

Gannicus turned her to face him, looking directly into her eyes. She felt in moment as if their souls were not two, but one. Her hands shook and he took them between his own, steadying her.

"No matter what I have done within my mortal life, no matter the blood I have shed, the achievements made within the arena, your love has been redemption. Your faith, our love, our son has made life hold meaning in death. Before you, I had not lived."

"Gannicus-"

He brought their linked hands to his heart and held. "My blood rushes through the veins of our son and he will always be a part of me. I will live in your memory, your heart, in your dreams." It sounded like a promise. "We have created him, together. The best creation of my life. And he will live free." He rested his temple to hers, whispering close to her ear. "But he needs you. He needs his mother."

"He needs you too. So do I."

"Teach him about his father," he said urgently. "Teach him about the glorious battle, men who fought beside me to provide gift of freedom. Teach him how much he is loved, even if I am not present to whisper words in person."

"I yearn for you."

Their lips touched. "As I do for you. I wait for you. But the time has not come."

"There is no life where you are absent."

"Be strong Sibyl. Heart yearns that life ahead is full, happy and filled with blessings. I would wish you to find love again..." she shook her head vehemently, denying such blasphemous words.

"You ask too much." His chuckle echoed near her ear, sending a shiver towards her spine.

"Then cherish every moment until the time comes to meet again. I will protect you in shadows and thought. I will watch over you, every day, every moment. We are destined by the gods."

She accepted. With tears and bittersweet pain. She accepted. "I love you."

"Wake up," he whispered. "For me and for our son."

His kisses were frantic now, across her face, her shoulder, their joined hands, anywhere his lips had cause to fall. Sibyl brought their lips together, kissing him with reckless abandon, knowing their time had come to an end.

Their son needed her.

Swirling around them, the mist rolled in, but their lips remain fused.

"I love you," she gasped in-between fevered kisses.

"Open your eyes," he whispered against her lips.

Lids lifted; inside her head she heard his beautiful voice. "I love you, Sibyl. Always. I wait for you."

"Sibyl? Sibyl? Thank the gods!" It was Laeta.

She gasped, pain seeping throughout mortal form. It was proof from the gods that she stood alive, of this world, not yet ready to pass beyond the veil.

She lay inside a tent. Light filtering through the worn material indicated that it was day. "Laeta."

The other woman kneeled beside her, offering her a drink of water, relief etched across entire face. "We thought you had passed to the afterlife. You have been unconscious for days."

Sibyl leaned back, swallowing cool drink. "Days?"

Laeta nodded. She hesitated a moment. "There were moments where you called for Gannicus."

A soft mew called from beside her, distracting attention. Sibyl looked down and for the first time saw the bundle lying beside her, tucked close to her side.

"Nasir agreed that it was best to have him close to you. To bind you to this world."

Sibyl shifted and Laeta lifted her son into her arms. A love she felt for only one other infused her being. Her heart stuttered, but her eyes were dry. No more tears, she vowed. She would live for him.

"One day," she whispered to the little boy. "You will meet your father. He awaits us upon the shores of the afterlife. He is brave, a warrior. And he loves you."

"What will you name him?" Laeta asked.

"Gannicus," she whispered, her breath catching, a tear – one of joy, not sorrow - fell onto her sons tiny chin. He stirred, yawning, his little eyes opening and staring at her. They were the exact shade of his fathers.

"I name him for his father. I will name him Gannicus."

A/N: I had planned to take a break from writing for Gannibyl. But I found this prompt in my mailbox and it kind of poured out of me in about two hours. Gannibyl angst is always a thing of beauty. I will take a break now. And quit while I am ahead.

Enjoy xxx