It seemed like yesterday that Septimus had died for him. He swallowed again and got up. He couldn’t believe the man had done it, yet he had. Marco grunted and shook his head as he made his way back to the courtyard. A sharp molten hot pain lanced through his body and he staggered. Then, someone from behind clamped a forearm around his throat and he felt the agonizing thrusts of something being shoved into his flesh over and over. The arm effectively cut off his screams and the pain took his breath away. The arm let go and Marco fell to his knees and then to his stomach. He tried to lift himself up and he looked over his shoulders and cursed. He saw Philo running away, his hand bloody. Marco looked and saw a jagged piece of metal, bloody.
His breaths were coming in heavy sobbing gasps and he tried to get up. He slipped in the blood and looked around him and he was horrified to see a growing pool of his own blood. His heart slammed into his chest painfully and he moved to the wall and used it to leverage himself up. His legs felt heavy, as though he had run for miles. Blood was rushing in his head and all he could hear was it whooshing in his ears. He took a staggering step and nearly went down on his knee. Holding onto the wall, he moved with care, feeling warm blood slide down his body and down his legs. It was a strange feeling, like he was pissing on himself.
He made it to the entrance of the courtyard and he heard the laughing. He tried to call out but his mouth was strangely dry and the world was shifting drunkenly around him. He reached out a hand for the fluted column and managed to get a hold of it before his knees gave out. There was a cry from someone but he wasn’t sure who it was. The edges of his world were closing in on him and he saw blackness trying to edge its way to him. Marco felt warm hands on him, his body felt cold, like his butt on the marble seat of the latrine and someone was saying something, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Why couldn’t he understand? He’d been speaking the language for two years now.
Thad’s face moved above him and he felt immense relief flood him. He smiled up at his friend and brother. He saw his bloody hand cup the other man’s face. Why was his hand bloody? And why was he so damned cold? Thad was saying something and he had to really focus.
“What happened? Who? Who did this?” Thad said, his eyes wide and frightened.
“Philo, that fucker,” Marco whispered, he was panting now and all he wanted was a drink of water. He tried to draw moisture from his mouth. He heard Thad, but he couldn’t see him and that frightened him. He blinked and widened his eyes. Then he saw them and he laughed.
“Greg! Septimus, holy shit, it’s good to see you guys!”
Thad stared down at his friend, the eyes were wide and the hint of a smile was on his face. Marco blurred and Thad blinked and tears fell onto his friend’s face. He tilted his head back and screamed his outrage and sorrow and it reverberated against the walls of the Ludus Magnus. He shook and crushed his friend’s body to his chest and rocked the dead man, all the while screaming. He thought perhaps that he’d lost his mind, because he could not stop screaming. Part of him stood back and observed and he watched himself and his mouth was open to the sky and the screams just kept coming. Someone was trying to pull Marco away from him and he clutched him to his chest.
Why couldn’t he stop screaming? He looked around him, his eyes wide and he just kept screaming. He saw Felix and Dean, who had coming running. He saw the shock he felt reflected in the wide blue eyes. He saw Dean’s mouth open and he was screaming as well. Dean dropped down to his knees and fell on Marco’s body. He couldn’t hear what Dean was screaming and he saw that Felix was crying and snot was running down his lip. Then hands pulled at him and he saw that the big one eared Scots, Cynyn, wasn’t it? He saw the big man pick his friend up and then he saw doctore and he felt more hands on him but Thad couldn’t move.
His brain told him he was in shock and that the last two years were finally catching up to him. That all the grief and sorrow and anguish were letting go, going away with his friend. Doctore and Cato moved in and out of his vision and then he saw Philo and he snarled and screamed in rage. He bolted up after the man but hands, many hands grabbed onto him. He saw fear in the man’s eyes but also satisfaction.
“I’m going to rip your fucking heart out,” Thad screamed over and over. Someone shoved Philo away and Thad was taken up to his cell along with Dean. Thad let himself be led away; all fight gone from him. Doctore set him on his bed and Cato handed him a cup of wine. Thad took the cup and sipped. He didn’t taste it. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and he looked up into doctore’s eyes.
“I think perhaps this season, you shall be a Provocator,” doctore said softly and Thad nodded. Titus Lucius had just given Thad permission to kill Philo legally in the arena. They all knew that Philo had killed Marco, but proving it would
