Weeks have passed, a letter arrived,
In Antonius' villa, his servant thrived,
Handing forth with hands that shake,
A scroll that bore Lucius' name and fate,
With brow furrowed deep and heart in dismay,
Antonius unrolled the message, gray.
War is declared, the words rang clear,
His trusted friend now his foe, severe,
Antonius' heart, torn between,
What once had been and now unforeseen,
Confusion swirled, as memories stirred,
Of battles fought, of words deferred.
Lucius, brother in arms once true,
Now turned to shadows that dark winds blew,
What happened to the bond we shared,
Antonius asked, his soul laid bare,
Had ambition's fire grown too bright,
Blinding reason, shrouding light.
But a lion cannot falter, still,
Duty calls, against his will,
He rose in strength, his eyes aflame,
Though friendship faltered, war's the game,
Legions rallied to his side,
For Rome and honor, they would ride.
Antonius marched with heavy heart,
The fields ahead, their fate would part,
Yet even in his warrior's stride,
A tear was held, for bonds untied,
Could blades of war, in battle's roar,
Repair what was, or break once more.
Lucius prepared, his forces strong,
Yet in his heart, knew something wrong,
The tides of envy led this path,
But could it withstand Antonius' wrath,
In the still of night, he thought of days
When both had walked the same proud ways.
And so, they met on blood-stained field,
Banners high, with sword and shield,
But in the silence, just before,
Their gazes met, two friends of yore,
Neither spoke, yet both did see
What once was shared, now history.
The clash began, steel against steel,
Yet deep inside, the wounds were real,
In every strike, a tale retold,
Of friendship lost in ambition's cold,
Yet both men fought with all their might,
A war of hearts and endless night.
The sky was dark, the battle long,
But neither side could claim a song,
For victory here, though sought by both,
Would come with loss and break their oath,
As dawn arose, and blood had spilled,
The fields lay bare, the winds stood still.
Antonius gazed at what was done,
A battle fought, yet none had won,
Lucius stood, with weary eyes,
Regret now clear, no more disguise,
In that moment, both men knew,
The price of power cut too true.
No words were said, but both did part,
Carrying wounds deeper than the heart,
For in this war of friend and foe,
The seeds of ruin still would grow,
And so they turned, each on their way,
To face a future, dark and gray.