Rome had fallen, just as Marcus had said. But at what cost? You stood in front of the stone bed where his body had just been brought in. Your chin quivered as you saw his eyes, dark, vacant. He was gone. With whatever strength you had left after watching him give up his life for Rome, you began your work.

One by one, you pulled each and every one of the arrows that had helped take his life. You had to strip him of his armor and only leave a thin sheet over the body that had once been warm and held you at night. In secret, he had promised to give you the world, take you away and keep you safe as he had done for years.

"I'm sorry, my love." His voice echoed through the silent room.

You lifted your eyes from his silent, cold body to be met with the warmth of his big, brown and welcoming eyes. He stood there, in white, a sorrowful expression on his face as his spiritual form stared back at you.

"Marcus." Your breath hitched.

"I know, love." His voice a whisper that sent chills down your spine.