Render Unto Pompey
Love wounds and mars
Any heart not tough or strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain
--Love Hurts, Nazareth
**Blood – red and viscous – dripped steadily from various wounds on his body. His breath was ragged, anticipating the next strike. As I let him ponder his existence, my eye caught sight of the pools of sticky blood that had gathered on the ground at our feet. It seeped slowly over the ornate floor and its red colour a stark contrast to the pale colour of the stone used in the floor’s construction.
My gaze soon fell to the dagger in my hand; it’s sharp steel blade covered in blood from the tip to the hilt. I hadn’t wounded him enough to kill him – no that would take all the fun out of this situation. His bare bronze skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and blood. I could not tell if he was fearful, or anticipating. I slowly grinned. This was more exciting and pleasurable that I could have ever imagined. My self-revelry was interrupted as the bound man spoke once again.
“You WILL pay for this transgression!” he seethed, straining against the thickly woven rope that bound him to the wall. Arms strained at the rope. His body, only clothed in the barest of garments, tensed and he struggled to get away. A soft black blindfold covered his eyes. I was not worried that he would get free.
“Such talk.” I moved in close to him, my breath heavy upon his face. “ I don’t think you are in the position to make those threats come true,” I responded back, still impressed that he had yet to discover my identity.
Caesar pulled his head away. “I am ROME! No one does this to me!” The fury boiled within him and radiated from his entire being. “I will personally watch you suffer a slow and painfully torturous death,” he ranted.
I was glad he still showed signs of defiance and had not yet broken. There would be much more time for that. As he continued to struggle, I raised the bloodied dagger back up, tracing his cheekbone with the tip. “You’re a pompous, arrogant and self-righteous man,” I said, my voice hissing in his ear. “And I am going to enjoy doing to you what you’ve done to countless others....”**
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus was jolted out of his daydream as Cristius Arestian, one of his Centurion commanders, entered his grand chambers. Pompey sat at his large desk that was covered with field reports, dispatches and various scrolls. He smiled slightly as the memories of his dream faded away – gone, but not forgotten.
“Cristius. Good, you’re back,” Pompey said. “What news have you brought?”
“Lord Pompey,” Cristius began, saluting as he stopped in front of the desk. “ Just as you gathered, Caesar is dispatching nearly all the 3rd legion to the border near the Rubicon, although HE has not joined the men, nor does it look as though he will any time soon.”
The news pleased Pompey. As long as Caesar didn’t move to join his troops just yet, his plan would work perfectly. “Good. How many soldiers does that leave here?”
“In the palace it leaves no more than 150 including his personal guards, but even those are down to one quarter strength,” answered the soldier.
The fair-haired consul quickly rose from his chair. Everything was moving along superbly. “Excellent. Knowing Caesar, he won’t go to the troops until he’s assured a swift and glorious victory. He’ll let Brutus and Vascillius lead the army in the early victories and then ride out to meet them,” Pompey stated.
With Crassus recently dead, Pompey & Caesar had moved the battles of the civil war up a notch. Pompey began looking through the many army reports on his desk. Caesar might have had superior numbers at the moment, but Pompey’s soldiers were the better fighters.
The Magus began pacing alongside his desk, his vivid titian cape flowing in silence. It was a stark contract to his golden blonde hair, his lightly tanned skin and the gold trimmed armour he wore. He turned back to Cristius. “Keep an eye on Caesar. When he begins the move to go, I want to know about it immediately.”
“Yes, Pompey.” He saluted once again, turned, and quickly left the room, leaving the young leader to his thoughts.
Pompey smiled to himself. The plan he had conceived so long ago was becoming a reality. Returning to his chair he began to prepare the next step of the plan. This would bring to fruition the conquest of Caesar by Pompey in ways the dark-haired general couldn’t imagine. Looking around the heavily cluttered desk, Pompey Magnus finally found the blank parchment he wanted. He dipped the aged quill in his ivory inkwell, and began to compose the most important piece of the project.
Gaius Julius Caesar strolled through the Senate halls as he listened to the various reports being made by his adjutant. He walked with purpose and power in his stride. His gold-plated armour flashed in the morning sunlight that was streaming in from outside and his red cape flowed behind him.
His recent war of deception with Xena would have discouraged most men, but Caesar was not MOST men. He simply pushed forward – to his next conquest.
Pompey. And complete defeat and destruction of his co-consul’s army, which would leave Caesar in total domination of Rome.
Caesar stopped suddenly as one of his commanding generals approached. “Hail Caesar,” he responded and saluted in kind.
The Roman general saluted back. “You have news?” he questioned.
“Yes. Scouts have reported that Pompey has begun moving more men to his legions near the river.”
“Predictable,” Caesar commented, taking the report from the soldier’s hands. He scanned its contents quickly and then tossed it back to the adjutant.
“We outnumber him three to one. Tell the men to stand ready,” Caesar commanded. “Knowing Pompey, he won’t waste too much time once all his men are in place before the initial attack will begin.” Caesar’s men were, at this moment, entrenched and he would use that to his advantage. “He’ll chose his time wisely, but won’t waste time about it. And so, we shall do the same thing.”
Caesar turned back to his soldier. “Pompey is where we want him; defeat is not an option. Is that understood? Make sure all the men know this.”
“Yes, my lord.” The Centurion left in a rush saluting as he proceeded down the hall just as one of the aides approached.
“Caesar, there is a message for you," he started, trying to catch his breath. “I was told to tell you that it’s urgent.”
Taking the scroll from the aide’s hands, Caesar opened it swiftly. “Dareus, isn’t it?” he questioned the young man who nodded in agreement. “And who is this important message from?”
Dareus hesitated before replying, “I believe, Caesar, that it’s from Xena.”
At the sound of her name, Caesar rapidly unrolled the scroll and read its contents.
Caesar, No doubt you are surprised to hear from me, but I assure you I am serious in my intentions. After our last encounter, it made me realize that we have to stop this war between us once and for all before we finally kill each other. Meet me in 1 hour in the hall by the Centurion entrance and I’m sure you will be very interested in what I have to say. Xena
Grinning in spite of himself, Caesar looked to Dareus and his adjutant. “Well it looks like it will be a better day than I had planned.” At the confused looks he received back from the both of them, the Roman leader dismissed them both. “Never mind. That will all.”
After they left, Caesar began to prepare for not only a victory on the battlefield of war, but also for one on the battlefield of wit and cunning. He had no doubt that Caesar would reign supreme over them both.
Pompey paced the floor as he anticipated the final outcome of his labour. It wasn’t that he feared retribution or the ability to see it through. No, the anticipation came from finally being able to quell the feelings and emotions that had built up inside of him for so long.
The mid-day sun cast grand and looming shadows on the walls and floor. The area was empty and silence save for the tapping of his sandals as he paced and waited. After pacing a few more times, his patience was rewarded as Pompey heard the sounds of someone else entering the main Centurion and Praetorian wing. Dashing into the nearest room, he lie in wait.
Julius Caesar walked briskly through the great halls of the Centurion and Praetorian soldiers. He was alone, leaving the guards at the entrance with explicit instructions to be on guard in the sounds of a battle were heard. One way or the other, Caesar was going to get Xena this time once and for all.
As he approached the main door he drew his sword from its sheath at his side. **Time for both of us to meet our destinies Xena** he thought to himself. And that was the last thought the great general of Rome had before his world went black and he slumped to the ground.
A cool draft greeted Caesar as he regained consciousness. He stood upright, his wrists bound tightly and his back was flat against the hard stone wall. Caesar tried looking around his surroundings but his eyes were completely blindfolded, and a dull ache remained in this head where he had been knocked out. Another draft blew through the room and the Roman leader shivered as the realization that all but his barest undergarments had been removed.
Caesar gritted his teeth. “Xena, you will pay this I swear,” he seethed. “Xena!” The veins in his forehead looking as though they were ready to burst. Hi voice echoed against stonewalls; yet there was still no response. Caesar paused as he heard the muted tapping of someone walking across the stone floor.
“Xena is well on her way back to Greece and has no ideas where you are right now,” came the response and most definitely NOT from Xena.
Caesar was taken back a bit as a very male voice responded back to him, the tone one of mocking. “Who are you?” he asked angrily. “How dare you do this to me! Xena or not, when I get free all of Rome will be unleashed to track you down!”
The captive Roman leader continued to struggle fiercely, not giving up the fight to free himself. Unfortunately, the chains were not forgiving.
Footsteps moved quickly across the stone floor. “I couldn’t think of a more appropriate way to be assured that you would come to this little get together than to have you believe that the mighty Xena would great you when you arrived.” The Roman leader could sense that the man was standing directly in front of him. He stood up as tall as the restraints would let him. Caesar would not give this common kidnapper the satisfaction of seeing the great Roman general back down or be broken.
“I believe you are in no position to make demands of me,” Pompey continued only inches from Caesar’s face, his breath tickling the other man’s cheek. “Struggle all you will,” the Magnus said laughingly. “The ropes will not come loose, and you will only serve to tire yourself out.” Pompey knew if Caesar discovered his identity, all would be lost. He would either have to flee Rome and forever be cautious that Caesar’s soldiers would find him, or kill Caesar. He didn’t like either option.
Caesar continued to pull and struggle at the chains that bound him to the wall. They were secure and were not giving at all, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He was angry with himself for falling for this deception. “What is the meaning of this?”
The golden-haired consul laughed in spite of himself. “Simple. A little lesson in payback for all the pain you’ve enjoyed causing.” The sight of the all-powerful Caesar struggling while not only bound to a wall by his wrists, but also nearly completely naked stirred something humourous within Pompey.
Before Caesar had a chance to respond, two quick successive slashes were made to each of his extended biceps causing small trickles of blood to well up and drip down his copper arms to his shoulders. The cuts would do no permanent damage, but were still deep enough to cause Caesar to gasp, although more in shock than pain. The dark hair Roman gritted his teeth, the bright flash a stark contrast to his tanned bronze skin.
“Bastard!” Caesar spat laughter from the other man rang mockingly in his ears. Once more, a quick succession of cuts came to the right side of his chest, and down his left side, across the ribcage. Blood now flowed steadily down both of Julius Caesar’s arms as well as numerous places on his chest. There was not enough blood loss to do severe harm to the captive, at least not yet.
Unseen by either mortal, Ares God of War, appeared in the room, but remained in the immortal ether. Ares was struck by how attractive each man was. Caesar, with his dark hair and deeply tanned skin, was well muscled and there was strength in him. Ares watched as the streams of blood paved crimson trails down his skin. Caesar wore only what appeared to be the barest pieces of cloth over his hips. Ares’ gaze moved to Pompey. He was the golden one, with shining blonde hair and bronzed skin not as dark as Caesar’s. Pompey had removed all of his armour and stood before his captive in only a toga, the top of which had been removed and draped around his waist, leaving the co-consul’s upper torso bare.
The God of War remained dressed in the guise of Cristius Arestian, Pompey’s loyal solder, for very soon he would reveal himself to the two Roman generals. However, for right now, Ares enjoyed watching events unfold.
Caesar fumed behind the blindfold. His captor continued to laugh and mock him, which angered Caesar all the more. He wanted to be able to see his captor—to look this man in the eye and to see what kind of a person had the gall to dare kidnap Julius Caesar!
“Oh how you protest,” Pompey said hauntingly. His breath was warm on Caesar’s cheek, mere inches away. “I think you protest too much.” The Magnus then lowered his head and with his tongue, traced the distended vein that ran the length of Caesar’s neck from shoulder to the back of his ear. Pompey was happily rewarded by the sudden gasp and quick intake of air from his former friend. The blonde Roman carefully traced the edge of Caesar’s jaw with his tongue, and paused only briefly before bringing his lips down upon Caesar’s for their first kiss.
Pulling his head back and resisting at first, Caesar soon gave in to the tormenting sensations assaulting his body. With his sight gone, other senses now compensated for him. His captor’s tongue was hot and wet as it probed and fought with Caesar’s own for dominance. Julius strained even more, pulling at the chains and willing them to release him.
Ares felt his own cock spring to life as he watched these two Roman generals. Despite their ongoing war, there was more to their relationship than just hatred, and the feelings were not one-sided. The God of War was taking great pleasure in his foray with the Romans.
Suddenly, as the lips continued to press against his own, Caesar was struck with a clarifying realization. This man, his kidnapper, had a distinctive albeit small scar on the right side of his lower lip. Julius Caesar knew now without a doubt who had sent him the note luring him to this place. Caesar pulled back breaking the kiss, a slight feral smile crossing his lips. “Do your worst,” Caesar said with renewed confidence. “Pompey.”
Silence followed and was deafening. Pompey took a step back, stunned that he had been discovered. Somehow Caesar had known. Rather than attempt to keep up the charade, Pompey Magnus reached up and removed the blindfold from Caesar’s eyes. He could have denied his identity, but deep down, Pompey wanted Caesar to know that it was he.
Caesar blinked as his eyes became accustomed to the light filtering in through the high windows. Slowly his vision returned and found himself face to face with a scowling Pompey Magnus, whose chest and stomach were smeared with his own blood. “What happened? Ruined your little plan?”
Pompey couldn’t hide his frustration. He had planned the whole thing for months, biding time until the right moment came. What had gone wrong? “How? How did you know?” Pompey gritted through his clenched teeth.
“Oh Pompey how quickly you forget,” mocked Caesar. “You have a very distinctive scar on your bottom lip. A souvenir from a fight with, I do believe, me. You are FINISHED.” Julius was enjoying himself. True to form he had gained the upper hand of the situation and gotten control. Pompey would rue this day for the rest of his life, which Caesar would make very short.
The mortals surprised Ares. Caesar appeared to loathe Pompey and yet, his reactions and mannerisms told a different tale. Ares already knew Pompey’s feelings; it was, in part, what had brought the God of War into this little deception in the first place. But Ares was impatient. If Pompey didn’t stop talking and speed things up, he might have to intercede earlier than planned.
Pompey moved in slightly. “Ah, but you forget, Caesar. You are the one still chained to the wall.” He had nothing to lose now, so the Magnus drew in close until they were face to face, almost touching. Each could feel the heat coming from the other. The blood on each of them had already started to dry, and Caesar’s wounds had ceased to bleed any further.
Suddenly Caesar gripped the chains binding his wrists and leaned forward and kissed Pompey so hard as to leave swollen and bruised lips later on. Pompey was dumbfounded at first and did not react at all. Mimicking back the Magnus’ own actions of earlier, Caesar’s mouth pushed for dominance. Despite his lack of mobility and movement, Caesar was relentless.
Pompey moaned into Caesar’s mouth. He dropped the dagger he still had clenched in his fist, and as the bloodied blade clattered to the ground, Pompey Magnus sought out Caesar’s cock. Beneath the flimsy material Caesar wore, his cock was hard and already, clear fluid was seeping from the slit. Slowly, the fair general began to stroke the flesh and was rewarded by a guttural moan from Caesar. Pompey’s hand and fingers were rough and calloused, and moved with a deliberate purpose up and down the entire length of Caesar’s cock.
Caesar strained at the chains that bound him as the kiss deepened and Pompey’s stroking became more increased. Their bodies were covered in a mixture of blood and sweat as they pressed more and more together. Pompey slid his free hand under Caesar’s arm and gripped the bound man’s short dark hair.
Julius Caesar moaned ferociously as his rival and enemy continued to stroke his cock with languid movements. Unconsciously, he began to thrust his hips to meet Pompey’s fondling. From the first cut that Pompey had given him to the further blood letting and kissing, Caesar had grown increasingly hard and more frustrated.
Ares, who was not the most patient of gods, was now getting impatient. The plan called for Ares to reveal himself to them both, but only after Pompey had possessed Caesar. The God of War sensed the blonde Roman was not as sure as he had been about what he was doing. Ares had put too much time into this scheme to let it die out now.
Leaning slightly forward, Ares decided to take matters into his own hands and give them the push that they needed. “Take him Magnus,” Ares whispered into Pompey’s subconscious. “He is yours. Possess him and conquer your enemy,” he rumbled.
Like a shot in his back, Pompey pulled back from the kiss, but did not relent on the steady stroking of Caesar’s cock. Instead, he increased the speed. The Magnus’ eyes were dark with lust as he looked at his captive. His lips grew in to a feral grin and moving quickly, released Julius’ cock and spun him around. The chains pulled even tighter on Caesar’s wrists as they crisscrossed above his head.
Caesar moaned as his painfully erect cock was pressed against the cool, but rough surface of the stone wall. He had never seen Pompey like this before, and he had to admit that it was deeply arousing. Caesar felt Pompey’s hands grasp his ass, and the younger blonde man’s breath was hot on the soon-to-be Emperor’s neck and cheek.
“Game’s up,” rasped Pompey as he moved a slick finger to Caesar’s small puckered opening and eased the digit in. “Time to collect the spoils.”
Caesar gasped, his back arching as much as was possible as Pompey’s finger pushed further and further inside him. His whole body rocked with sensation and his skin inflamed with heat and passion. Soon Pompey added a second and then a third, stretching Julius more and more.
The stone room was now filled with the heavy gasping and breathing of the two men. As Caesar came nearer and nearer to achieving his much needed release, Pompey removed his fingers from him. But before Caesar could voice his frustration, Pompey Magnus brought the head of his cock to the well-slicked entrance and sheathed himself in his foe – his Caesar.
After all the time waiting and planning, Pompey finally attained what he’d sought. As much as he would have liked to take things more slowly and savour this memory, Pompey knew that his body would not allow him that. Rather, after a brief pause, he began to thrust with fast and furious strokes.
Pompey’s blonde hair was drenched with sweat as he moved within Caesar. The feeling was more than he ever imagined, and he felt close to passing out. As Caesar slumped forward towards the wall, Pompey slid one arm around his waist to support him, while the other arm slid around his hip, his hand grasping Caesar’s cock.
Caesar’s body was a jumble of confusion. Instinctively he thrust back to meet Pompey own movements, but when Pompey took his cock in his hands and began stroking it, Caesar felt the urge to thrust forwards as well. As the stroking of his cock became synchronized with the speed and thrust of Pompey’s frantic fucking, Caesar felt as though he was losing his mind.
Ares watched the two men hungrily. His own breathing had become laboured and heavy, and beneath his tunic, Ares stroked his own godhood to the speed set by his mortal companions. As he watched Caesar and Pompey reaching completion, Ares, too, was approaching his own finish as well. Once again Ares whispered into Pompey’s subconscious. “Come for me, Magnus. Now!”
A moment later, Pompey Magnus threw back his blonde head; a strangled roar bursting forth from his lips, and he came hard and violent within Caesar. Caesar’s own violent climax soon followed and his seed covered the stone wall in front of him. It was nothing like Caesar had ever experienced and he didn’t feel it at first when Pompey, still racked by his orgasmic thralls, leaned forward and bit the dark general in the soft flesh just above his left shoulder blade.
Both men were drenched from sweat, some of which mixed with the dried blood from Caesar’s wounds. The only sounds to be heard were the irregular gasps as Caesar and Pompey tried to regain their breath. Caesar slowly released his death grip on the chains around his wrists and he rested his forehead on the cool wall. Pompey withdrew from Caesar and took some steps back as Caesar sagged towards the wall; both depleted of all energy.
As both men reached their release, Ares rode the waves with them, and came just as violently as them both. His immortal seed staining the Roman tunic he wore. Dark curls stuck to his forehead as his skin was lightly covered with sweat, and Ares’ breathing was ragged. This was better than he could have ever hoped.
With the wave of Ares’ hand, the chains around Caesar’s wrists unlocked and the captive general was no longer. He slumped forward as the strain on his arms gave way, curious as to how he’d gotten free. A sudden breeze brushed through the room and Caesar sensed that they were no longer alone. He looked up to see one of Pompey’s men standing a few feet from himself and Pompey.
Pompey Magnus raised his head as well to see Cristius Arestian standing before him. His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be…”
“This is exactly where I should be,” Arestian interrupted. A bright flash of golden light illuminated and swirled around him. Caesar and Pompey squinted and remained silent as the centurion’s features changed. The dark hair grew longer and curled at the ends; a short trimmed beard replaced the clean-shaven face and black leather pants, boots and a vest, replaced the armour and tunic.
“Ares,” said Pompey.
“The one and only,” came the reply. Ares grinned. “I do hope you enjoyed this. I know I did,” he said looking at both men. “And as I have kept my word to you, Pompey, I expect you to do the same.”
Caesar’s anger came rushing back to the boiling point. “What is the meaning of this??!!” He glared daggers at Pompey. “Now you add conspiring with foreign gods to your list of atrocities?” he seethed. “Killing you will be the greatest pleasure I can think of.”
“You will not kill him, Caesar. Pompey came to me with an offer, yes, but not to plot against you,” replied Ares.
“Really?” Caesar said sarcastically. “For what then?”
Ares smiled. “In exchange for arranging this little diversion,” he began, “he would change the direction of this civil war you two have going and head into Greece.”
Caesar looked at Pompey, then Ares. “Since when does a God of War need help in creating wars?” He did not fear this War God.
Ares crossed his arms over his chest. This one had spirit and a fierce determination. He could see why Pompey was so enamoured and needy for Caesar. “I don’t need help, but I’m not about to let this opportunity just go away. A good war is just what my warriors need. So we have a deal then?”
If what Ares said was indeed true, Caesar wasn’t about to let this opportunity go. “And what about what I need?” Caesar asked, the smug and pompous smirk returning to his face as he turned to glance upon Pompey.
The War God noticed that look and smiled himself. He was really beginning to admire and like this Julius Caesar. “Of course,” came his only reply.
“Now just wait....”
Before Pompey could finish the statement, Caesar stalked forward and pressed his lips against Pompey's own in a deep kiss. Stunned at first, slowly Pompey gave in and fully savoured it.
Pompey grasped handfuls of Caesar's dark hair, winding them through his fingers. Caesar, in return, caressed the short blonde hair at the nape of Pompey's neck. Pompey threw caution to the wind and gave into the overwhelming feelings arousing his body once again. The kiss turned urgent, almost frantic.
Caesar pushed Pompey back violently onto his foe’s discarded cape and tunic. “I told you that you would pay greatly for what you’d done,” he hissed. “Now, I’m collecting.” Caesar pushed Magnus’ legs forward and pushed the head of his hard cock into Pompey’s already slick opening. "You are mine," said Caesar breathlessly, lifting up slightly and driving deep into Pompey who gasped at the welcome intrusion and closed his eyes.
"So are you." Caesar grabbed Pompey’s hips in a vice-like grip and leaned forward, pressing Pompey's own hard shaft to Caesar's stomach. Pompey, in turn, tangled his hands in Caesar's soft hair.
They began rocking together, Caesar thrusting up and sheathed himself in Pompey completely. It was a quick and furious rhythm, driving them both to the heights of desire and lust. The stone room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking.
A sudden gasp made Pompey open his eyes back up. Caesar’s face was only a few inches above his own. Pompey could see that behind Caesar, Ares’ naked body was kneeling, and that the Greek God of War’s hands gripped Caesar’s narrow hips.
“Ahhh…” was the only sound that escaped from Caesar’s mouth as Ares began to thrust into him. Caesar increased the speed of his motion as Ares moved faster within him, driving harder and harder into Pompey, who was overwhelmed at the multiple sensations.
Faster and faster the three moved, giving way to the combination of their groans and moaning growing louder and louder. Pompey's hands held the edges of his cape in a death grip as his hips thrust up to meet Caesar’s movements. One of Caesar's hands rested on Pompey’s shoulder, while the other grasped his slick and weeping cock and began to stroke it following the movement of his thrusts into Pompey.
Pompey moaned, his head thrown back in passionate need. He thrust up into Caesar's hand, knowing that he wouldn't last too long with this machination on Caesar's part. Caesar, sensing Pompey's need to come and lack of stamina, stroked him harder and faster making the strokes short and quick.
"Come for me. You know you want to," Caesar growled into Pompey ear, tracing the outer edge with his tongue, and then pressed his bruised lips against Pompey’s own in a searing kiss. It was too much for Pompey to handle, and in a flash of white lightning erupting behind his eyes, he came to his own release, his seed coating Caesar's hand, as well as both of their chests. Caesar continued to stroke Pompey until his body quit shuddering.
“Oh, Julius! Yes!” cried out Pompey.
Pompey’s shuddering caused a chain reaction for the other two. Caesar threw his head back in release as he came, pumping his seed deep within Pompey, while Ares roared as he continued to drive deep within the dark general, releasing his immortal seed. Pompey gasped as Caesar thrust a few more times. Caesar rested his head against Pompey's lithe frame, trying to regain his breath. He hadn't wanted someone so much in a long time.
Caesar could hear Ares’ raspy breath near his ear. His heaving chest was slick against Caesar's back. No one said anything for a while as they all struggled to regain their breath.
“So,” Ares gasped, the first one to break the silence, “we have a deal then?”
Caesar looked at Pompey and nodded. Oh they would continue to wage war and infuriate one another, but Caesar would see to it that there were many, many negotiation meetings between he and Pompey.