"I did not think I would lay eyes upon you in coming days."

Gannicus grinned as he walked towards Agron, watching as he closed gate to keep goats within fenced enclosure.

"My wife tends the needs of my children. I would take opportunity to offer thanks for all you have done."

The men embraced, holding tightly to each other. They were all that was left of the heart of a rebellion that now stood as distant memory.

"I would not have believed it if own fucking eyes do not bear witness. How did you manage such a thing? Escape the clutches of Crassus and his fucking legions?"

Gannicus shrugged, removing covering from wrists and baring them for Agron to see. He watched as pain crossed his brother's face, understanding as no one else could what he had endured.

"I was nailed upon cross and left to welcome the afterlife. By accidental circumstance I was found alive and offered rescue. I have been searching for word of you for months."

Agron shook his head in disbelief. "The gods truly favour you."

Gannicus chuckled. "I suspect they favour Sibyl. Thought of her is all that kept hope alive."

"You return to more than Sibyl," Agron teased. "You are ready to take up mantle of husband and father?"

"I never thought such a thing would be my destiny. But I embrace it as I once did life in the arena. It is opportunity for new beginning."

"It is so. Nasir and I also find ourselves surrogate to the three boys who encountered you upon path."

Gannicus nodded, already aware of a fierce protective instinct growing within him. "Sibyl told of Spartacus's death."

Agron nodded. "He passed from grievous wounds. But died on own terms, loving wife sent to ease passing."

They both stood silent a moment before Gannicus lightened mood. "You now farm fucking goats."

Agron rolled his eyes. "It is Nasir's idea. Fucking animals."

Gannicus laughed out loud for the first time in almost a year. It felt good. "You do not fool me brother. You have affinity for the beasts."

Agron grinned. "Perhaps. They have a manner of growing upon you."

When dawn broke across the mountains, Sibyl and Gannicus had not yet closed eyes to seek comfort of sleep. They made love, over and over, each time more precious than the one before, their gratitude at being reunited unquenchable. She would leave his arms only long enough to feed their children.

He stood slightly overwhelmed, but did not shy from opportunity to hold them and watched with rapt attention as their tiny mouths suckled at their mother's breast.

"Oenamaus," he whispered. "Greedy beast," he said tenderly with a proud chuckle.

"Like his father," Sibyl returned with humour.

"Gratitude." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. She sat beside him on their pallet.

"Laeta had offered your name as suggestion. But I believed tribute to beloved friend would have been what your heart would have desired."

He smiled. "It was." He looked down at his daughter who lay curled in his arms. "And Kore."

Sibyl's smile was sad. "Gratitude for seeing her to final resting place."

He touched his daughter's little hand, his chest constricting when her tiny fingers curled around his, her grip strong.

"I but made request that she be handled with care."

"She had died a long while before then," Sibyl said. "Of a broken heart."

Gannicus made no response, the soft sound of a suckling babe filling the comfortable silence.

"Agron looks comfortable tending goats."

"He would be comfortable tending grass if it made Nasir happy."

At length he said, unease in his voice. "I am no farmer. I know nothing of the land nor fucking animals."

She laughed and Oenamaus protested, his mouth temporarily dislodged from her breast.

"You could teach," she suggested and he turned to look at her, his brow raised. "We live free, but it might not always be so. There will always be those who would threaten our home." She looked down at their children. "And our family. You were once a gladiator. Teach those who would learn how to protect their families."

Gannicus looked to his hands, unconsciously curling his fingers. "Perhaps there is knowledge that these hands might yet impart," he said, idea taking root. "Or, I might favour the life of a pirate," he teased. She merely rolled her eyes. "I would caution, I have developed skill with fucking bow," he said with a smile.

"A weapon you have always had distaste for. I was always better," she added. "I would be willing to hold contest."

His winked at her, pulling her close. "I look forward to moment." he whispered, his eyes searching hers, seeking then finding their connection. "I love you," he said in earnest.

She felt her insides clench, and it had nothing to do with the fact that her son yet fed at her breast. "I love you too." He placed loving kiss against her temple, as they watched their children find sleep.

Sibyl moved eventually, placing Oenamaus in his basket, Gannicus lowering Kore into hers. They made no sound, each asleep. They stood over their children and he pulled her back against his chest, his arms around her waist, head buried in her neck.

"Kore... she looks... like me. She even has imperfection upon her little chin." He chuckled a little self consciously. "And Oenamaus favors you."

"It is a fascinating circumstance, to see self in miniature form. She offered great comfort when I gazed upon her."

"Was their delivery a difficult thing?" He asked softly.

She shook her head. "Nasir and Laeta were pillars of strength. Agron almost dropped Kore when Oenamaus came. We, none of us were prepared for two of them. But I missed you."

His arms tightened around her.

"I began to lose hope I would ever lay eyes upon you again," he confessed. "Or that I would be worthy man when hands..."

She turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his. "You are all that matters. Alive and well. I would love you absent every limb upon your body." He was reminded of Aemilius's sentiment. "I knew not of your fate and yet I prayed to the gods. They sent you to me in Sinuesa. I made request that they return you once again."

"I remember nothing of the three days I was upon the cross."

He felt her shudder. "I would not think upon it. I cannot."

He gathered her close, her warmth and smell a balm. "Your body has changed," he whispered. She raised her brow. He grinned. "In the most pleasurable ways." He ran his hands across her breasts, skimming her waist and hips. "There are appealing curves I would yet take time to explore."

He reached for her and she for him, no barriers between them. If his lips had one function for the rest of his life, he would have them kiss her. Her lips were as he remembered, soft and responsive. Her hands slid across his skin, igniting pleasure where they travelled. She found her favourite destination, tangling fingers in his hair.

When he lay between her thighs, he raised himself upon his elbows and locked their gazes. Her eyes were soft, her bottom lip between her teeth, biting hard when he thrust. His hands found her breasts, his palms cupping them, marvelling at how they now spilt out of his palms.

"You are perfection," he whispered in her ear, his breath strained.

She gasped as his speed increased, her own arms pulling him close, wrapping her legs around him.

Gannicus felt her insides clench around his cock and his own release followed swiftly thereafter.

He was home.

Years Later

Gannicus, once gladiator and general in the slave rebellion, settled into life as husband and father. He taught all those who would learn to defend themselves - techniques he had learned many years past from trusted brother. Men and women alike came from far and wide to learn at the hands of one who once fought and won his freedom.

Every year, on the anniversary of Spartacus's death, their community would hold gladiatorial games. More symbolic, friends and family would fight in the makeshift arena. But they would spill no blood and spar using swords fashioned from wood. The games provided opportunity to remind that through the sacrifice of many, they were given opportunity to live free.

When the twins turned two years old, Sibyl birthed another daughter, Camilla. Gannicus admitted to her that one of his greatest joys was watching as her body changed when she nourished their children within. The way her belly would curve and firm, her breasts swelling. The feeling of their child kicking at his back when her stomach rested against him at night. The massages he willingly provided to ease her discomfort. The way her eyes sparkled with new life, or her skin glowed.

In total, he fathered three daughters and two sons. A loving husband and protective father, he doted upon his daughters and they upon him. But he ensured they were as capable of protecting themselves as their brothers were. When they were older, he told them tales of warriors – Naevia, Mira and Saxa.

Even after many years had passed, Agron still found it endlessly amusing when he watched Gannicus with his girls, the warrior wrapped tightly around the fingers of all the women in his life.

To his wife, he owed everything. She had saved him from himself when she entered into it, bringing light where there had only been darkness.

She was his entire life. And he, he was hers.

THE END

A/N: To the few readers to asked, apologies, but I was never a Gaxa shipper, so unfortunately, I will not be writing fic about them.

Many of you have asked whether I will write about the early stages of the Gannibyl love story. I have. Fated to Pretend is posted here and completed.

Regarding names: I didn't want to create an army of Spartacus's and Sura's and Lugo's, etc. Those people are all dead and I didn't really want to weigh everything down by that. In the context of this story, Kore was close to Sibyl and any boy Gannicus had would always be Oenamaus in my view. I didn't name all the children. So if you imagine one being Spartacus and another Sura, it is your choice :)

Finally, gratitude to CarolCB who helped me understand what Gannicus was meant to do.