When the Gods were Men

[isadora]

It was a dangerous time to be a Roman. When the fool Batiatus had somehow lost control of his ludus, most had wept for the deceased and rolled their eyes at his incompetence, but they had expected the traitorous slaves to be caught, tortured, and seen to grass within the week. Not only had they managed to elude capture and breed fear in the streets of the city of Capua, but now there was word of villas outside the city being attacked, inhabitants slaughtered and slaves whisked off to join what was slowly turning into a rebellion.

Isadora shivered at the thought, standing on the balcony of her own father's villa, looking out over the vast vineyards that had made them wealthy, and she drew her sheer wrap more closely about her slender shoulders. It was hard to believe that such things were happening so near, out here in the countryside where it seemed like nothing ever happened. Her eyes rested briefly on the small figures working in the fields below, big, strong men, slaves all, with armed guards standing at intervals with sharp swords and heavy trudgeons to dissuade any rebellious thoughts. Her father had increased the number of guards in the vineyard since they'd heard about killings, not wanting their slaves to get any bright ideas.

It was hard to believe the man they had hailed as the bringer of rain, who had apparently brought their fields back to life, now seemed intent on bringing about their doom. And after what they had elevated him to! Ungrateful. Breaking away from her musings, she turned and headed back into the shade of the villa, oblivious to the body slave who followed on her heel, and descended to the storeroom, where a few of the bigger slaves were moving heavy jugs of wine, to await shipment to the city. They ought to be done by now, she thought to herself as she blinked against the fading light, the storeroom was dim and cool, and her feet were uncertain as she glanced around for the foreman who was supposed to be supervising. He should have seen her by now....

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tag; Alistair
setting; Spartacus AU

[Alistair]

Everything had been going according to plan. After being taken by the Romans from his home; his brothers killed like pigs; their women sold to please their too white Roman selves; and then forced to fight in competition for the amusement of his captures--he had been broken free. The rebellion had started; and they were setting all whom were slaves free if they could. All whom could hold a fight; were freed first.

It was why the villa was a target; for the slaves there under Roman rule would be strong enough to help build the army. The fact; that many of them were Gauls; only make the job better. Alistair waited for the signal to be given; as he and other were in the storeroom waiting for the attack to begin; when light footsteps came closer. Everyone pinned themselves to the walls; but when it appeared the girl was not being followed by more Romans' Alistair jumped forward to come up behind her; and cover her mouth with his hand; and wrap his arm around her. "Give the signal; and begin the attack." He told the others; "I will get our prisoner out." For they had planned to take the girl all along; knowing her father would pay dearly for her return; and if he didn't she would be sent back little by little.

[isadora]

Since her father was out of the villa on business, she was trying to keep on top of everything in his stead. About halfway down the steps, she called out for the foreman. "Aelius?" When she almost reached the bottom and no reply came, her steps grew more tentative, and she heard breathing in the room before her eyes adjusted fully to the single torch, casting flickering shadows; heavy breathing, and that of many men, more than there should be in the small storeroom. She moved her foot back, to go back up the stairs, but she was halted by someone directly behind her. Her body slave, who roughly pushed her forward. She stumbled down the steps, but regained her balance without falling down, only to have calloused hands find her, her gasp of surprise smothered by one of them.

She heard him speak and couldn't help a small whimper of fear, but she doubted anyone heard it. She lashed out with her arms and legs, trying anything to make contact with the man holding her, but even where she did the flesh was hard with muscle, and his grip on her did not slacken. She twisted her head to try and free her head, unwilling to give up just because her captor was obviously stronger than she was.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting in the storeroom, and she watched as the large, armed men filed silently up the stairs to the rest of the villa, and she made an indecipherable noise of rage that may have been a scream if not for the hand stifling the sound. Since that seemed to serve little purpose, she looked around the storeroom, cringing at the sight of the foreman bleeding out across the floor, his blood mingling with the contents of broken wine jars, before she saw what she needed. With his hand clamped over her mouth, she managed to get one hand free, and her hand darted out for the torch sconce on the wall. Fire should make an interesting weapon.

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[Alistair]

The little roman bitch was fighting and swinging; but he did not notice; for he was used to fighting in the area for glory. She was not even half his size; and her efforts did not do more then sway his weight slightly. Ignoring her; Alistair was more focused on where he was going and the plan that was unfolding then her reaching for a weapon.

When he did take notice of her; her hands were almost upon it. With an annoyed growl he pulled her back and pushed her away; toward the floor below. "Little roman;" He began speaking her in her tongue that he'd been forced to learn. "You have two two choices; you can leave here with me; or you can stay and let your former slaves have at you." In truth; she had only once choice; they needed the coin her father would give them for her. If she thought he would leave her; let her father's men touch her; then she might go with less of a fight.

Walking toward her; he did not pause until he stood over her. Such a typically roman woman; white skin she feared the sun would touch; and not a mark on her from labor. It was then his plan formed; as she was at his feet. He would not tell her she would see her father again; that he planned to return her. He would make her his slave; and return her to her roman after making her live as they had lived. "They wont touch you if they think your mine."

[isadora]

She strained against his hold, leaning with single-minded fervour toward the flames, and her fingertips were just brushing against the rough hewn wood when he noticed what she was up to. Desperately, she grabbed at the torch and felt slivers of wood catch under her nails, clawing at the torch bracket, but it was in vain. Her hand came away empty, and she cried out as he shoved her to the hard stone floor. She caught herself with both hands, preventing her face from hitting the floor, and turned towards him in time to hear him speak.

Fear in her eyes hardened to defiance at his choice; and she was supposed to believe that going with him would be any better? So that instead of being raped and beaten and likely killed here, she could be violated by the rogue gladiators at their leisure elsewhere? Because what other reason would these men have for abducting a young Roman woman when they seemed so hellbent on killing them all? "I'll take my chances here, gratitude." She answered defiantly, pulling her feet under herself and getting up from the floor. Perhaps she was being foolish; but she hardly cared. She was only certain that whatever this man wanted, she wanted exactly the opposite.

When he promised that no one would touch her if they thought she was his, she gave a snort of derisive laughter and looked at him as though he were insane. "Is that supposed to be a comfort?" To be property of one man, rather than the plaything of dozens? Perhaps it would be better. But she wasn't about to weigh the pros and cons of being a dutiful slave to a barbarian like him, no, she would fight until she couldn't. Which is why she lunged towards him, or rather, towards the dagger on his belt. Fire might be out of her reach, but if she could catch him by surprise, maybe she still had a chance.

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[Alistair]

He ignored her speaking for the most part; simple as him mind might be; he still knew that she was not thanking him. He spoke plainly; but the Romans liked to make words their weapons. He would have to watch her words; making sure they did not betray them. When she charged him; he was first amused for a moment--she was weaker and had to know she did not stand a chance but she stood up and ran at him anyway.

Good girl. Alistair bend over as she got closer and used her motion to make lifting her up on his shoulder; like the wooden beams he had been forced to carry; then turned and began walking out. "You should learn caution; little Roman" He told her; "Charging mindlessly would get you killed faster." Even though he had her over his shoulder; he still moved his daggers out of her reach. "We should make haste; if your father finds us we will have to kill him." Perhaps that would slow her fighting.

[isadora]

She cried out in surprise when he turned her attack back on her and somehow she wound up over his shoulder, then she let her breath out in a rush of disappointment. She knew he hadn't meant it when he'd offered her a choice; whatever they had planned for their 'prisoner', he wasn't going to let her go so easily. But she wasn't going to make this easy for him either, and she beat her fists against his back, writhing in an attempt to break free, kicking her legs. When he warned that charging mindlessly would bring her death sooner, she scowled. "Would that not be a more desirable end?" Her voice was quieter than it had been, speaking more to herself than him. Die on the end of a blade, swiftly, rather than see what they had planned for her. Dread tickled her spine even to think on it.

His promise to kill her father did little to discourage her; her father would not return to the villa for at least another day, perhaps more, depending on how his business in the city went. At least she needn't worry about his safety, although the other Romans in the villa, the guards and free men, would not be so lucky. She could hear the sounds of fighting now; the yells of men and the clash of metal, sounds of death and dying carried on the evening air. Her blows seemed to have little effect on him, so she squeezed her eyes shut and murmured a prayer to the Gods; Jupiter and Mars to grant strength to the men fighting above, and Juno to protect her and keep her safe.

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