Chapter 17
"Haven"

3 Months Later
Limes Arabicus, Arabia Petraea

"Meridius!"

Hadrien pushed through the crowded corridor flooded with Roman soldiers and embraced his old friend. Laughing, Maximus patted the older man roughly on the back and welcomed the familiar face after weeks trailing along the Limes Arabicus.

"I thought it would be a cold day in Hades before I saw you again," the general continued with a jovial grin. "Bored of the banquets in Rome already?"

"Not quite, my friend," he revealed with a reluctant smile.

"Out for another campaign? I knew you couldn't stay away!" Hadrien guessed, unable to hide the roar of hope from his tone.

"Patrol," Maximus corrected.

The older man's face fell, and he scoffed, "You must have made some enemies in Rome to be sent on such a menial duty."

"Fortunately no… Emperor Aurelius is restoring Rome's treasury. He sent me to take stock of the soldiers and guards stationed along the Limes –see where cuts can be made, now that peace has been settled with the tribes." His blue eyes strayed from Hadrien, lost along that train of thought as inevitably the thread brought him back to her. Look at all that she has accomplished without you… He liked to imagine himself a stronger man not to feel bitter about a past lover's success, and yet he was aggravated seeing her flourish in his absence when he had lost weeks to the wine, the politics of Rome, the celebrations of Aurelius' supremacy. 'All for the power and the glory and the blood of Rome' was shouted through the streets. He was weary of the obligation.

"He doesn't trust a praetor or senator," Maximus finished to distract himself from his wandering thoughts. "He saw the greed that festered during Verus' reign. It's left him suspicious."

"Then it's fortunate he found you. You might be the last honorable man left in Rome."

"Your fondness for the city grows," he baited with a grin as they walked through the corridors and toward his temporary quarters.

"Let's say time in the desert has given me perspective."

"Perspective?" he repeated incredulously. "You have sand in your eyes, you ass!"

"I've made the best of my circumstances," Hadrien continued with a diplomatic coolness, but as they stepped inside the room, his stature collapsed as if it had all been an act for the soldiers filtering through the hall. "When you return to Rome, tell the Emperor my services are no longer needed here. There's no reason for us to remain."

"And where would you go, old friend?"

"Home." Hadrien's usual jovial air waned as he admitted in a barren tone, "Let me see my wife. My children. I've been here too long."

Maximus nodded stiffly and promised, "I'll see what can be done. The Emperor is preoccupied with his immediate affairs… He forgets those so far from the capital."

"Make him remember, Meridius," Hadrien pressed with a meaningful look, and the general clapped him encouragingly.

Gripping the man's shoulder, he admitted, "You look like shit."

"Our rations have been cut. Tell the Emperor he can take our bread, our water, but leave us our wine."

His hearty laugh bellowed through the room, and Hadrien grinned guiltily. "We might have a vessel to spare… But first we'll need to speak about the troops under your command for my records."

The brightening of his eyes diminished in a moment, and he waved his hand with a bored look. "Right, right, there will be time for discussion tonight… but now I must leave you. There are still negotiations to be handled." He watched the general washing off the sand from his hands and face and added, "You're welcome to join me."

"In a meeting where I'm not needed?" Maximus clarified and wiped the water from his face. "I'm not so desperate for entertainment."

"I think you would find this particular gathering very entertaining."

The young general lifted his brow curiously but was far from convinced. "What are you getting at?"

Hadrien stiffened as if the thought were a rope tied around his chest, but he released it with a short breath and said, "Nothing… We'll speak tonight –if you haven't found something else to preoccupy you."

Here, the general's features were caught between a frown and smile as he watched his friend leave the room, and he turned to his records while musing how he had never seen a man so incapacitated from lack of wine.

‡ ‡ ‡

By late afternoon, the general had eaten, rested, and arranged his quarters to his liking, and he now ventured to explore the armory, the quaestorium, and the barracks of this smaller fort for his notes and in preparation of his discussion with Hadrien. A scribe jotted down his thoughts while one of his lieutenants offered his assessment on the capacity.

"The most obvious options are the specialty ranks," the lieutenant said, following his general away from the barracks and once more toward the opposite end of camp where Maximus hoped to find Hadrien freed of his duties and ready to open the vessel of wine. "Scouts, vexillarii, and cavalry can easily be spared."

They passed through the canteen area where soldiers were trading with local merchants, and the general's blue eyes absent-mindedly scanned the crowded space. A soldier stepped into his path, causing Maximus to collide with him, and the man gathered his wits and saluted brusquely.

"Excuse me, General…" he began under Maximus' aggravated gaze, but without explanation, his attention waned, turning instead to a figure further ahead and focusing as if a predator centering on its prey. Thick onyx hair hanging loosely about her waist, the young girl balanced a basket against her hip causing the plain fabric of her dress to strain around her figure. Her skin glowed under the sun, and she tossed her hair across on shoulder, revealing the damp sweat pooling at her neck. His body settled like stone, only his eyes followed her every movement, his heart drumming in his ears, and as though feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, she turned to meet it. Only briefly. Realizing his rank, she shied and turned way, and he recalled the pressure of the sun building on his open skin. Deflated, disappointed, and frustrated, Maximus looked at the soldier once more having forgotten why the man was in his path.

"Go on," he dismissed, and the soldier was eager to avoid any consequences from an ill-tempered general and headed once more for his barracks. Maximus lazily glanced at the woman once more, now able to see the limitations of this cheap imitation, too short and curvy with eyes the color of black pebbles. A desperate man would find beauty in the most austere places, and it seemed a shame how he wasted his attention on false hope. Forgetting his lieutenant and scribe, he set off for the praetorium to find Hadrien while musing how two vessels of wine were more appropriate between them.

He winded through the corridors, following a servant toward the meeting room where Hadrien was finishing his affairs. As they rounded the corner, Hadrien stepped into the corridor but paused to hold the door wide behind him, and the general was not prepared to face the mahogany eyes which followed. The desert was teeming with mirages, and he had grown suspicious of its tricks. Heavy kohl corralled the brown depths, making them appear warmer and richer, and those eyes seized him with such force that he was not aware of his approach closing the space between them while she remained a statue poised in the doorway. Her eyes followed him, but this close he broke their spell and could search for the seams of this vision. He inspected the straight line of her nose, the tense curves of her lips, the taut angle of her jaw… Her thick hair was braided away from her face and piled loosely at the base of her neck, so that all her could consider were her features and know that it was truly her. When he found her eyes again, they seemed to pulse out of her stoic face, and he couldn't understand the anger building behind them.

"Meridius," Hadrien spoke up to break the silence suffocating the hallway. "You remember our guest."

Yes, though he had tried to forget her. Ignoring his companion, he spoke only to her, "What are you doing here?"

Arwa was silent, almost distrustful staring at him.

"Trade negotiations," Hadrien answered, but neither considered the general still standing aside and holding the door ajar. Watching the tension kindled between them, he added pointedly, "I had hoped you would have joined us…"

Their gazes sustained an unspoken conversation. One that left him increasingly perplexed and her further annoyed.

"Maximus," the general spoke up again, tired of attempting to pry his way between them. "She needs to rest. Perhaps you can escort her to her camp."

Finally, the Roman broke their contact to turn to his friend and his twisted words, but Hadrien merely directed his attention toward the woman yet again with a candid crease between his brow. Apathetic yet overwhelmed, Maximus considered the young tribal leader once more, but the entire picture unfolded before him. His gaze reached beyond her suspicious face to the gossamer golden tones of fabric fitted across her fuller breasts and draping from the curves of her body. His eyes probed intuitively at the protrusion which he had mistaken for a trick of the dress until her slender fingers cradled the growing curve, and he felt that same hand had somehow reached out and slapped him across the face. He turned to her for confirmation, but her fiery eyes were waiting and looking even more enraged than he had left them.

They ignited his own irritation as accusations swarmed his head. Against his duties, against his own reservations, he stepped aside to allow her passage, and she brushed past him with Razin following behind her who looked to Maximus with an indecipherable face, both apprehensive and protective.

"Ready my horse," Maximus said sharply toward his lieutenant.

"I have my own guards, General," she replied, and he had forgotten the staccato of her voice mimicking Greek.

"You are an ally of Rome now," Hadrien differed. "We protect our interests."

Rather than answering, Arwa merely nodded her farewell and set off down the hall toward the entrance of the praetorium, and without hesitation, Maximus was on her heels walking beside Razin and assessing her stiff posture and squared shoulders ahead of them. At the road, two Arabian stallions waited for their masters along with a group of guards travelling with the woman. Maximus' steed was brought as Razin helped Arwa mount the saddle, and she barely gave the Roman a second glance before setting off with her guards taking position around her. Inevitably, Maximus rode beside Razin oddly feeling some solidarity in their mutual concern for the defiant, young leader.

The tribal camp was not set far from the Limes, a startling change for the general had spent months lost in the desert searching for these same men who now left their tents to see their leader arrive with unexpected company. They dismounted and servants took their horses. Razin paused to look at him, and Maximus gathered his full height as if to meet the challenge to his lingering presence. The guard merely trailed after Arwa, turning his back and allowing Maximus to follow them to the largest tent at the center of the camp where Arwa rushed inside, and Razin took his post outside the entrance. Maximus' determined stride slowed, once more unsure whether Razin was permitting his approach or mimicking Arwa's indifference toward him. The two men's regards caught, and subtly the Arab man tilted his head in the direction of the entrance. Maximus needed no further confirmation. He ducked inside the tent, coming face-to-face with the wall of dense incense, the rich colors of fabrics, the shade, and yet still the heat. Girls tended to Arwa's hair, unraveling the strands to allow the thick locks to fall down to her waist, and for a moment, he saw her as if no time had passed between them.

Arwa caught one of her servant's wrists as the girl reached to brush her hair. Irritably, she lifted her hand, and the girls funneled from the space. She took the comb to the ends of her hair, running it through the tangles with brusque movements, evidently oblivious to the tugging at her scalp and the Roman lingering behind her.

He would not bow to her anger or her disregard, and he dared to delve further into the tent where she would be forced to face him. Her eyes barely darted his direction before staring defiantly ahead, and he could no longer stand the tense silence. "Why have you kept this from me?"

Her hand stilled with the comb poised in her hair, and her eyes snapped dangerously toward him. "You have no claim to my child," she said like an animal baring its teeth.

"I am the father!" he growled in return, his fury lashing out like a whip between them.

The brush landed with a clatter on the table, and she pushed herself to her feet, turning on him to better deliver her words, "Months I have not seen you –not heard from you. You lost your right when you sent me away!"

"You chose to leave!" he countered, flexing his hands for the control over his roaring aggravation so that he did not reach for her. "You were afraid to follow me."

All at once, her palm met his cheek. The fire faded into his skin, leaving him stunned and staring at her teeming with fury. "Leave!" she snapped and could barely stand still long enough to face him. When he made no move to obey her, her palms hit his barrel chest, trying to force him away. "Leave me!" Once begun, they wouldn't end their siege, at once pushing and hitting and tearing at him, but he remained unmoved.

Rather he watched her fight unfolding feeding the agitation growing inside him, but he couldn't find the will to throw her off of him. There was something so barren, so desperate, so crazed about her attack, fabric straining around her full breasts, rustling about her pregnant belly, that he almost laughed. He caught her arms, forcing them to her sides, and leaving her to spear him with her eyes as she wordlessly groaned her frustration.

"You know nothing!" she shouted and tried to tear her hands from his grip. "You cannot claim this child! You can't take it away from me!"

"I don't want to take anything from you!"

"You're a Roman! You only know how to conquer –how to fight-" The words were cut short as she sucked in a sharp breath and placed a hand to the base of her stomach, applying pressure and wincing as the pain lingered in her lower back from a well-placed kick from the child inside. He sought to fight as well, and she prayed he would lie still and spare her the strength to stand and face this man who had consumed her and tossed her aside. She feared the power he held over her, the way he made her long for impossible things, how his mere presence shattered her resolve. She had assumed power, garnered peace, and handled negotiations with Rome, and yet, she would have given it all away to follow him. When her eyes opened once more, she found his anger had subsided, and she cursed him. It was easier to meet in battle.

"Sit," he commanded.

She stood with her dark gaze flashing bitterly at his show of compassion.

He stepped closer, his tunic nearly brushing her stomach, and she realized suddenly that he had corralled her against the bed. Her back ached. Her limbs were weak. Gritting her teeth, she conceded to her shaking knees and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling her body relax at the support of the soft sheets and mattress beneath. He squatted to follow her paling features, now covered in a light sweat. Her lids were heavier above her fierce gaze, and unconsciously he swept aside the hair sticking to her forehead. She slapped away his hand, unable to force him to retreat but still willing to fight even as the strength evaded her. He was reminded of their time together when he had cornered her after their short combat. She was injured then, weak as well, and similarly he was frustrated but resolved to break through her wall. Memories of that hot desert afternoon flickered through his mind, reigniting the flame, and all at once his lips seized her though she pushed at his chest. He charged further past the onslaught of her hands, consumed and focused on the taste of her lips sweeter than he could remember and soft and yielding. His mouth molded to her like their features fitted together immediately finding their hold with foreheads colliding together and lips so entangled there was no room for breath. The same hands fighting against him abruptly changed their siege now tangling their fingers in his tunic and pulling forcefully.

He was obedient, rising to her call. His arms encircled her while he fit his chest between her thighs and found the position against her stomach caught between them. She pulled harder, the storming of her hormones now lighting her skin on fire, wanting him to kindle it, but he was cautious of their impediment careful not to crush her between his arms even if she desired it. She had forgotten the feel of his oppression, of his strength coiled up and poised to overcome her, and her body yearned for him to take her as in those lost nights now distant memories fading like sand through her fingers. She gripped harder, attacking him through her lips with such hunger and fierce command that he was compelled to answer her, matching her pressure letting their sweaty features slide across each other's. The friction and the tension knotted his muscles making him rigid against her where her soft flesh molded to him trying to make space for him between her legs and against her body. There was no way around her pregnant stomach between them even as their restless bodies searched for the pressure and the force. His hands abandoned her lower back to find the edge of her dress, and she hung tighter to his tunic for the balance and strength to sit. He gathered the flimsy material in his large palms helping it over her skinny ankles and up her slender calves to her knees. His chest burrowed further toward her to fill the void between her legs, but his hips hit the wooden bed frame as impeding as her stomach, everything seeming to hold him back from having her and enjoying her.

He searched for more to taste, feeding on the dewy skin of her neck, and her face chased after him, her teeth catching the edge of his ear and trying to command him once more. His massaged the length of her thighs, enjoying how his fingers sunk in deeper to her soft flesh, how he could grip her, and her heels rested on his lower back catching him and giving him free reign to her. His thumbs kneaded across her skin and found their way to the crease of her hips with her dress pooling across his arms as his search continued to find the soft curve of her abdomen more visible to his palms as they cradled its sides. His lips led him to her shoulder where her grip faltered, and she released him to ground her hands behind her hips, feeling breathless and dizzy with the heat growing in her body. His mouth dipped between her breasts, his tall stature doubling over so that his eyes were on level with the fruit of their months together, and he traced the line of her belly with his lips letting his face bury into the layered fabrics of her dress to feel the curve beneath. His hands held fast, and all at once, he could feel movement beneath his palms as the baby adjusted itself; and he held tighter mesmerized by the sensation of his child recognizing him. In another moment, the baby stilled, but Arwa's legs moved restlessly around his shoulders, reminding him he still had to answer to his child's impatient mother.

His hands moved from her stomach, trailing to cradle her naked legs even as her fingers tugged at his tunic to draw him to her once more, but feeling her soft thighs around him, he turned and sunk his teeth into her skin sending a jolt through her body. Her legs tensed around him, at once drawing him closer and stilling him, and he released her trailing kisses then toward her knee where it arched to meet him. An indulgent smile flickered at his lips as his teeth brushed the inside of her knee, and he felt the quiver shudder across her skin. Her hand on his tunic was more aggressive, angry at being ignored, and he rose to his feet catching her eyes voracious and unsatisfied. Her cheeks flushed, the material of her dress sunk listlessly between her tan thighs, and one hand anchored her on the bed, giving her the strength to sit up and face him as he unlatched the leather belt at his waist and pulled the linen tunic over his head. When he found her eyes once more, her features trembled with a rush of uncertainty, her eyes too shy to dip below his shoulders, but even seeing the barrel chest and etched muscles in the edge of her gaze was enough to unnerve her and unleash a rush of heat down her spine to settle heavily in her lap. He bent over her soothing and feeding her fire with his kiss. Her arm wrapped about his broad shoulders, her fingers gripping to the muscles of his back, while his hands found the edge of her dress, and he lifted her up to slide the material across her backside and further along her back. Slowly he unfolded the layers of her gown with one of her shaking hands guiding him, the other still clung stubbornly to him too aware of her pregnant curves and fuller breasts he had never seen. At length, he drew the material over her head, breaking her away from him and leaving her to land exposed on the soft bedding behind her.

The blood rushed to her cheeks with a flicker of womanly apprehension as his gaze left her and traveled down the length of her body unwrapped like a present for him to savor. The weight of her stomach bore down on her making it difficult to breathe or perhaps it was the touch of his callused hands moving along her skin and rediscovering her. He bowed his head shifting then to circle the bend of her tender breasts diligent as a servant paying tribute to a goddess, and she stared unnerved and enraptured by the nodding of his black curls with every kiss he placed on her skin. Then those lips hot as the desert at noon circled the peak, sending such a spark of electricity shooting through her that she gripped his arms and lost the breath from her lungs. She couldn't catch the air anymore than she could ignore the persuasive warmth of his tongue teasing the hardened skin, and she writhed impotently beneath him, digging her nails deeper into his skin as a warning to release her and let her breathe. He was reluctant to obey, letting his knees balance against the bed frame so that his hands could travel her naked skin, gripping and releasing, worshipping and possessing. Her eyes searched the black of her lids trying to calm her burning body, and she swallowed dryly when he finally straightened but only for a moment before he caught the other in the prison of his lips. She groaned in the back of her scratchy throat, nearly choking on the sound as she made it, stretching her neck blindly to make space for the air. His teeth circled the peak, and her hands pushed at his shoulders, her neck arching then but her body was too heavy to support the flexing any further. He teased her a moment longer, fascinated with the plush feel of her breast and blind struggle of her body beneath him, more responsive and unhindered than he remembered.

His body shook with the effort to hold himself from collapsing above her, and finally, his hands cupped the backs of her thighs to coax her legs away and open for him before finding her hips. Realizing his intent, she became motionless, having abandoned his arms to knot her fingers in the sheets beneath them. The tip found the line of her lips, and her heels pressed against his chest as a rush of anxiety chilled through her. He kissed her ankle while his hands added pressure beneath her knees, making her release her hold as his hips followed the easing of her body opening up to him once more. She gasped loudly, tensing from toe to nose as he slid inside, but her shaking legs couldn't withhold the brawn of his body finding her slowly, carefully. Her features trembled, and she looked away from him too sensitive to his penetration and the surge of desire ambushing her and washing away her fears. Nights she had dreamt of him coming to her, and with every fiber of her being she wanted to release her legs and allow him to fall into her and claim her as he had before. Only the pressure in her abdomen kept her will in place. Such a rough, powerful soldier, she was reluctant to entrust her body to him, but even more, she did not trust herself.

Her lips folded around him as only his most heated dreams could imagine, and his body shook restraining him from sinking in deeper than she would allow. Her heels were a blockade against his chest small but powerful, and his head lolled heavily between his shoulders as if her walls were singing his skin. Fighting instinct, he pulled away from her, and her legs trembled in his hands driving a spike in the base of his skull with how she taunted him, quivering at the feel of him and halting him from enjoying her fully. He exhaled hotly through his nose, letting his gaze follow the line of her bent legs down to the swell of her stomach at their base, her full breasts, and finally her eyes pulsing with want and apprehension. I won't hurt you… either of you. He sunk into her once more, measured and purposeful, and her legs flexed abruptly to stop him. His hands massaged at the tense muscles, distracting her with his persuasive hips, and his reward was a low moan sinking in his pores. Her eyes clenched closed, fingers white as they held to the sheets, and she rocked her head slowly unable to cope with the slightest brush of his hard cock inside her. He drank in her reaction losing himself in the beads of sweat glistening across her caramel skin. The tension in her legs dissolved as the pleasure grew potent and circled her waist, and she forgot the sensation of fear. Her body surrendered in his hands, and the temptation was dangled before his nose, his eyes intoxicated by the sight of her pleasure, his body hungry from the lack of her. How long since he had held her in his hands, since he had known that she was his, and his best intentions were dwindling inside his weak mind. He delved in deeper his legs shaking with the effort to be gentle, keep his thrusts measured, only allow his length to enjoy one piece of her searing heat at a time even as the endless warmth promised more satisfaction. He gritted his teeth and trusted her body to stop him as the slippery walls welcomed more of him, and his eyes nearly rolled into his head to feel how she tensed around him when her legs flexed to life and a short gasp left her lips.

It was a command his body obeyed like a soldier of her love, making him still as a statue. Only his guilty hand roamed to find her swollen stomach and search for the damage done like his eyes probing her to locate the pain in her gaze, but her tumultuous desire faced him with her dissatisfied moan falling from her lips almost aggravated at how he had misread her pleasure. Breathless and tense he faced her, as eager and irritated, and he coaxed her knees to one side. Free of the impediment of her legs and her stomach, he swept over her as unyielding as a wave crashing across her, and her arms embraced him. His kiss was rough, unbridled, warning of all that she stirred in him, and she matched his passion, lifting her head from the bed to crash recklessly into him. His lips pinned her once more letting his kiss deepen, their short gasps for air around their desperate lips, finding an outlet where he didn't fear he could hurt her. Her small palms reached for his waist pulling on his muscular body, encouraging him to her side, and he followed her direction if only for the promise of having her again. He took her from behind and chased after her lips when her head lolled with a soft moan. She twisted to cup his neck with her long fingers tangled in his short curls, and his arm reached across her to balance himself and offer the resistance to his short thrusts, more shallow but less controlled.

She exhaled forcefully with the renewed sensation of his unyielding length cutting into her more than she had wanted, and her hips twisted slightly opening herself to him, making it easier for him to reach her and fill her. He found her rougher, and she moaned into his kiss gripping tighter to the base of his strong neck. His barrel chest moved higher to balance against her, and she surrendered beneath the oppression of his weight pinning her and allowing only his hips to move. With each thrust, his waist contracted striking into her, and it was a collision she felt twice over as he swept into her and pulled away. Every movement was excruciating pleasure, so sensitive and tender she felt as if she were a virgin in his arms once more, and she couldn't control the pressure building inside her belly. She gritted her teeth. Her muscles clutched to her bones, his weight bore down on her, the breath escaped her, and the heat seemed to suffocate her. She writhed beneath him moaning and nipping at his lips agitated and restless and begging him to release her. Her walls were a welcome prison, and he wished to never leave the searing heat of her core; but each thrust the pleasure doubled, tripled, as he pinned her soft body in his arms. The sweat made her slippery in his grip sending her rocking against him, and he loved to hear it crown at her lips. Every breathless gasp and heady moan seeped into his pores drugging his blood with the scent and feel and sound of her. And he was insatiable. His abdomen ached like his arms shaking to hold him steady above her, and a short, desperate cry escaped her. His hips hit her harder, and her hands almost pushed his shoulders away as if she couldn't bear the force but her eyes begged for more. He met her again, submitting to the power of her eyes and the need to fill her, and seeing the pressure building in those brown depths brought him to the edge. Roughly he reached her limits again and again and again, burying into her, crushing her, filling her. She couldn't bear the pressure, and it crashed over her without warning making her body contract with such force that she cried out blindly and fought at his shoulders. It released her as swiftly as it had come, leaving the wild pleasure to dissolve into her blood with the warmth of his release permeating her.

Sweat dripped from his chin to land on her collarbones and mingle with the sheen across her skin. His hand cradled her belly with concern, and hers fell across his guiding him lower where he stared down at her sobered from his passion and uncertain of what he had done. There was a sudden kick as if the baby were celebrating the reunion of his parents or merely enthused by all the excitement and the happiness spreading through his mother. Regards locked, their faces mirrored the same candid smile, and suddenly they broke into laughter. Still holding his hand, she guided it higher toward her ribs searching slightly until there was another bump perhaps an elbow as the child adjusted himself. Maximus was mesmerized, and she smiled gently at the awe resonating in his blue eyes. It reminded her of her initial shock and elation, and she relived that moment with him helping him feel their child growing inside of her. He moved onto his knees and unwound her so that she lay on her back once more where he could bend and stretch his large hands across her swollen stomach, and where his thumbs would not touch, his lips filled the void sending an unvoiced blessing to his child. When he straightened to consider the baby's mother once more, her lids were heavy with exhaustion hanging low over her dark eyes though a kitten smile hiked up her lips in response to the look on his face. She had never seen him more at peace.

"You are weary," he acknowledged low in his throat and found his place beside her once more.

"He would not let me sleep last night," she explained. "Perhaps he knew his father approached."

His chest swelled at the notion, and he found himself entranced by her. "More than five months you have risen to power, gained peace, and carried my child…"

Her lips flickered indulgently. "I am not a Roman woman."

"No, you are not."

The acknowledgment awoke her as it forebode the differences which had separated them months ago, and she rested her palm on his cheek with remorse in her eyes. "How am I to a raise a child neither Arab nor Roman and yet both?"

"He cannot be both," Maximus warned. "We must choose."

Months before their choices had been at odds, and she feared the same. "Will he know his father?"

"Yes," he assured her looking almost insulted by the prospect that he would abandon them. "It is my child. I will raise him."

"He deserves a home, Maixmus," she said gently. "We cannot follow you to Rome and then to wherever war takes you."

"You wish me to remain here…" The disapproval laced his tongue, and she frowned. "I am not a tribesman. The desert is not my home. And your people will never accept me."

"You are my…" She faltered for the words and reexamined, "You are the father of my child. They won't have a choice. They won't defy me."

"Arwa," he groaned and looked away from her out across the contents of her tent, imaging briefly if he could accept this as his home. Moving each week, the constant heat, the void expanse, the arid taste… It was not a possibility. When he turned to her once more, he found her features quaking and her eyes shining with the onslaught of tears. They were a knife to his chest, and he drew her closer into his arms as he promised, "I won't abandon you."

"You will not stay here," she protested through trembling lips, frustrated and saddened and unable to control how her body reacted without her consent. She crumbled before she had the chance to gather her strength. "And I cannot travel to Rome. It is too dangerous for the child." The tears plagued her cheeks, and even as she blinked, she couldn't clear them from her eyes.

His blue eyes searched her face now stained with tears he had caused, and the guilt was salt to his wound. Grappling blindly for the words to soothe her, he decided, "I will stay with you."

Her lashes tangled making it difficult for her to see him through their web. "What?" she asked incredulously thinking she had misheard.

It was an opportunity to retract his brash promise, but he couldn't find the will. Taking her hand, he vowed, "I will stay with you until the child is born. I will be at your side when he opens his eyes… And when you are strong enough, we will find a home –neither Arab nor Roman. A home for us."

She wet her anxious lips shaking her head in mild disbelief. "What of your position?"

"I grow tired of war." Her tears fled from her eyes, but still her lips trembled faced with something so seductive and so impossible. "Would you turn from your people?" he asked.

Her heart drummed in her chest until she expected the muscle to crash through her ribs. Apprehensive but grasping for hope, she answered, "My people are strong now… And they will be strong when I am gone."

The compromise was reached, and yet she doubted his resolve. Never had she a voice beside him. In their months together, she had been subject to his will and his desires, and she feared now that her power was as insignificant as a trail of smoke pressed along by the wind of his influence. Still, her dreams haunted her as potent as visions sent to plague her mind, and in them she had seen a world far away from Rome, far away from the desert. She had seen a haven where the three of them could be a family, and so she gripped tighter to his palm feeling her cheeks sticky with dried tears and her body aching with fatigue. The wind rustled through the desert, letting the edges of her tent sway in the air, and this scene was abruptly familiar to her. Lying naked together with the taste of sand on their tongues and heat pulsing around them. It was an old memory, but the juncture of past and present gave her peace, to remember how he had sheltered her then and to trust that he would protect her now.

Their paths had collided inelegantly. Armed with hate and teeth bared, violence had united them, and despite its shroud, love had flourished. A soldier and a daughter: neither was what they should have been, and yet they were exactly how fate had whittled them with some distant purpose in mind. But it was only then lying stripped in his arms that she understood.

The End

Author's Note: Hello lovelies! So this is the final full chapter where Maximus and Arwa are reunited. You know I'm a sucker for a happy ending :) There will be a short epilogue, but it's contents will be a mystery for now...

Thanks to klandgraf2007 for the review! I'm so happy to hear from you, and I'm guessing you were on the right track, eh? Indeed Arwa is Maximus' baby momma because nothing can ever be simple with me haha I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and that things unfolded to your liking! xoxo