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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

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Gentile. | Chapter 35

On the Korazim Plateau, Jesus' sermon pierces your heart, and you finally see a chance to speak to Him.

Chapter list

The day of the sermon creeps closer and in turn you become a tad anxious.

Although you do not doubt Atticus’ ability to get you out of the estate on the outskirts of the Roman Quarter, your husband has been on edge in the past days albeit because of different circumstances regarding the performance of several of his subordinates. You fear that he will not let you out of his sight once he finds out the village is in quite the state of agitation. To your relief, no soldiers have deemed it serious enough to report the whispers amongst the townsfolk.

Gathering the courage on the morning of the sermon, you approach Quintus who is penning down a report with his characteristic look of annoyance on his features, alerting you of his current state of mind. Taking a deep breath, you know that not asking him anything will not be an option, and so, you speak your mind.

“Can I go to visit the market today?” you query. “I’ve been craving sugared figs.”

Quintus dips his pen into the inkwell and frowns. “I thought you didn’t like these anymore since you fell pregnant.”

Your throat runs dry at the crumbling of your excuse. “Ah, well, I wanted to try them again. You know that feeling that you’re craving something you don’t actually like? I’ve read about it in my romance stories, there are some people who hate one another yet cannot help but seek each other out, because some kind of force just seems to be bringing them back together—”

“Fine.” Your little reference to a sappy romance novel you once read is working wonders to bring Quintus to clench his jaw and give you a miffed stare. “You can go.” he drawls. “Be back before dinnertime. Oh, and bring Gaius with you as your chaperone.” You aren’t sure why he specifically chooses the Primi to accompany you, but you don’t dare question it. “Tell him that he is to keep an eye on you closely and that he should deliver you back to me personally at the end of the day.”

It could not have turned out better, you delightedly think to yourself, giving your husband a small bow before wishing him a good and productive day. You have to fight the grin that threatens to spread over your face and you seek out the Primi, whom you had seen leaving for his patrol whilst on your way to Quintus’ workroom. As if on cue, he returns from his rounds just as you enter the Roman Quarter, stepping in front of him to have him halt in his tracks. Gaius looks at you a little confused.

“Ma’am?” he queries. There is something strange in his eyes that you cannot put a finger on.

“Quintus requests that you accompany me to the market.” you quip, “As my chaperone.”

The Primi turns to the centurion walking with him, nods into the distance, and the man seems to understand that he is to continue walking. Now alone with him, you slightly smile at Gaius. “Today is the day of the sermon that has been advertised everywhere. Are you planning on going there?”

“Well, I was planning to, but it seems that another task requires my attention instead.”

“Good.” you breathe, planting your hand underneath your tummy. “I wish to join you as well.”

Gaius deeply frowns, shaking his head slightly. “Why?” he questions.

For a second, you consider playing the distant answer that your interests are none of his business, but you acknowledge being close enough to the Primi to reveal that little bit about yourself, although you leave out the most of your curiosity towards Jesus by using a more general statement: “I’m interested in knowing more, since I witnessed Quintus speak to Him that one day after you and the Cohortes Urbanae arrested him.”

At the mention of Atticus, Gaius gulps and adjusts his stance to appear more confident, and he does not protest your request any further. “Of course, my lady.” he mutters before gesturing towards the direction where the rest of the people seem to be heading.

Knowing your secret lover, he would be tailing you already, knowing that you’re on your way to the Korazim Plateau without requiring him to get you out of Quintus’ sight. You are relieved that you don’t have to be together with him in the same space as your husband at the moment, because you aren’t certain how you would have taken it.

The village is quickly draining its people towards the location of the sermon, and it seems that people are coming from all directions. With a hand on his sword, Gaius walks at your side, both keeping an eye on you as well as on the citizens. As soon as you arrive on the outskirts of town, Gaius finds his horse, a mare with a dark coat, and mounts it swiftly. Reaching out a hand, he looks at you expectantly.

“The Korazim Plateau is a fair trek away, ma’am. Given your current physical situation, I’d suggest you sit behind me and hold on tight.”

You nod in agreement and take his hand before grabbing his shoulder, rather ungracefully managing to get yourself onto the back of the horse. Sitting with both of your legs on one side of the mare due to your dress not really allowing you to sit on the steed like one usually would, you grab a firm grip on Gaius, feeling a little awkward as you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Are you ready to go, ma’am?”

“Yes.” you squeak, a tad nervous. Gaius clicks his tongue and lets his horse take off into a trot. You’re glad you’re holding on tightly.

The ride is a few minutes long. Around you, people flood towards the field where the sermon will take place, with a beautiful look on the Sea of Galilee. You let out a small noise when the horse makes a strange move and Gaius gently apologises, slowing down until it takes a slow step forward, inching through the crowd as people move aside lest they be trampled.

You peek around Gaius’ form and let out a soft gasp upon seeing the sheer amount of people who have responded to the notices scattered around Capernaum and anywhere beyond, pouring in from all sides you can see. On one end, there is a large stage built from wood and ropes, with a few large off-white sheets blowing in the wind, obscuring what is behind it. You reckon it to be Jesus who is there with a few of his followers, and there are also disciples busying themselves with organising the masses.

“I had not expected this.” Gaius frankly admits, “So many people…”

You hum in agreement. “Neither had I.”

Slowly, the horse steps on through the grass, and a familiar posture catches your eye, your heart leaping inside your chest. Although he is hooded, Atticus is recognisable to you, with his arms crossed, and he is just swallowing a bite of apple as the two of you pull up next to him, Gaius tugging on the reins to halt his steed.

Atticus lets his gaze go to Gaius almost offendedly, for this blows the cohorte’s cover, but as soon as he sees you, his eyes soften.

“Hello.” the marshall greets. “You here as well?”

“Mhm.” Gaius hums. “I have to keep an eye on the crowds. Can’t have the same issue we had a few months back, with that stampede.”

Atticus does not respond. Instead, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Surprising to see that Quintus allowed you to bring the lady along.”

A tad flustered, Gaius sighs. “He is not aware that she is here.”

Chuckling, Atticus uncrosses his arms. “So I reckoned.” He removes his hood and turns to you. “Shall I help you down, ma’am?”

“Please,” you breathe, taking his hand immediately when he puts it forward, standing close enough to support you hopping down the horse. He catches you as you nearly lose your balance, almost standing chest to chest in a public place. Atticus quickly steps back so as to not draw attention to how close the two of you are standing together, but the Primi is already tensely watching everything.

Atticus feigns neutrality. “What brings you here today, my lady? The Primi being here is understandable, but you, without Quintus’ knowledge?”

Although he grins almost invisibly at you, his voice remains fairly flat, and you let out a small hum before voicing your reply.

“He is busy and I wanted to visit the market together with a chaperone, however, Gaius was already preoccupied with going here, so I decided to join. Right, Gaius?”

The Primi’s eyes flutter in slight confusion and look from you to Atticus with something that makes your gut unpleasantly drop, and for a split second, you wonder if he suspects something. The feeling soon fades when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. “Yes, my lady. Glad to be of service.”

Turning to the horde of people, you inhale through your nose. “Isn’t this wonderful?” you muse, taking in the view, “So many people, here together, going to listen to this… Intriguing and peculiar Preacher!”

“We’ll see what He has to say,” Atticus acknowledges, “We should report any discrepancies to Quintus.”

“Of course.” Gaius establishes.

The three of you fall silent and you cradle your stomach gently through your tunic, thumbing at it whilst waiting patiently for Jesus to arrive.

Jesus’ followers usher people into the right directions, where some sit down to claim their spots. You briefly consider doing the same but fear that you’ll miss seeing Him in the process, so you force yourself to smile through the ache that has started to form inside your ankles.

The sun isn’t too bright today, which prevents you from having to squint, and in silence that is rather awkward, you spend some time focusing on the movements of your baby inside of you, which makes your heart pleasantly flutter, for Atticus is standing so close, and you’re almost tempted to tell him to feel your tummy.

Then, a ripple of brief unrest goes through the horde of people, as if something is about to happen, and indeed, the curtains on the stage part to reveal the very Preacher you had been hoping to see.

He appears on the stage and you feel your breath hitch. Jesus’ gaze goes through the crowd as the chatter dies down, people taking a seat on the grass below if they hadn’t done so already. You still remain in your standing position, however, with Atticus beside you and Gaius a little away yet close enough to keep an eye on you.

Even though you’re a fair bit away, you are taken aback by the sheer allure that hangs around Jesus. He is wearing a royal blue sash that sits around His right shoulder paired with a beige tunic, not a lot unlike the one He had been wearing when speaking to Quintus a few days prior. You’ve never heard a mass of people fall this silent before and you grab a hold onto Atticus’ arm as if to tell him to pay attention, feigning having to regain your balance. You don’t need to do this, for the cohorte’s eyes are equally as curious as they settle on the Preacher, Who opens His mouth to speak. Gaius’ prying gaze goes unnoticed.

“It is good to see you all here today. Being here in such large numbers, well, I insist you to listen to what you hear from Me today and spread this word to the ends of the Earth.”

Jesus takes a deep breath until finally, He starts the sermon everyone had been waiting to hear.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth.”

As the words drift through the air, you can’t do anything else but listen on in awe. The sentences fall from His lips like water, everyone focused on Him.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” For a second, your mind goes to John, who sits imprisoned back in Machaerus, and a mixture of pity and guilt forms inside your gut. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

You barely forget to breathe as you take in Jesus’ sermon, wondering for a moment if it is meant for you at all. The Kingdom of Heaven – John had mentioned it before when he stormed into the palace – was still a mystery to you. What could Jesus ever mean with this?

“Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in Heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

You feel almost ashamed at the pang of disappointment shunting through you, for you know yourself to not be Jewish and thus are not part of the target audience for these otherwise relieving words. You tilt your head slightly, drinking in His words regardless, wondering if your own Roman gods would ever preach a similar message.

Atticus puts a hand on your lower back, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright?” he whispers, but soon lets his gaze go up to Gaius, who is eyeing you suspiciously. He clears his throat and steps away at a respectful distance, repeating his question: “Are you alright, my lady? Do you need to sit down?”

You shake your head meekly, cradling your stomach. “I’m fine.” you breathe.

Focusing on the sermon again, you tilt your head slightly, taking in everything He says.

Gaius’ horse snorts next to you and the Primi pushes his heels into its sides to have it stomp on the ground to let go of some energy, its bridle slightly chiming at the disturbance.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.” Jesus calls out over the crowd. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” He gestures at His tunic, and then up at the air. “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

He briefly pauses, a solemn look on His features before He carries on.

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your Heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

Jesus’ gaze crosses yours again, and an inexplicable warmth courses through you. Who is He, to speak with such authority when it comes to something divine? Who is this God He speaks of, the God of the Jews, Who seems to care so much more than any of the Roman gods you’re familiar with ever appear to do?

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them. for this is the Law and the Prophets. Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgement you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye?”

Hypocrisy was not something called out within your own culture, especially of men. You want to grab Atticus but are suddenly aware of Gaius’ scrutiny, turning yourself away from the cohorte.

Jesus raises His voice, increasing the volume. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: Do not resist the one who is evil. And if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn and give him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.”

Although you had not expected Jesus to call for violence, this kind of approach towards one’s enemies was different altogether. “What is this message?” you murmur in amazement, “That He calls for His followers to not resist, to refrain from brutal acts even if one gets assaulted?”

“He seems to not be out for blood, then.” Atticus hums, before adding: “Yet…”

You give a small shake of your head. “He does not seem to strike me as the kind of Person to want this regardless. The way He speaks… Have you ever heard anything like this, Atticus?”

The cohorte lets out a noise. “Not even close.”

Suppressing your smile, you revert your gaze back to Jesus.

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Your eyes widen at the familiarity of the name you had read in the scroll on Jewish history you had purchased from Rome the other day, “But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, o you of little faith?”

For a moment, your mind drifts off as you mull over His words, wondering whether they are a rebuke, wondering if you’re even allowed to be here in the first place, for you are not at all familiar with Jewish culture nor their prophets, and you let your gaze flicker to Atticus, who is still invested in the sermon. With slightly parted lips and a deep frown, he takes in everything Jesus is telling the crowd, clearly unsure what to make of it.

Suddenly, Jesus’ words pierce right through you as your attention is almost forced back to the sermon. With your eyes fixated upon Atticus, you hear the words loud and clear: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

Dumbfounded, your gaze snaps to the Preacher. Jesus happens to look your way, be it by coincidence, be it on purpose. Even more, what He says pierces your heart like a hot iron, and your gut swivels unpleasantly.

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.”

You must have paled, for Atticus frowns at you. “(Y/n)?”

Flushing red with shame, you let your eyes flutter shut before nodding. “Y-Yes, I’m fine.” you tell him, “I’m just… Not sure what to think. What to make of all this.”

“Do you want me to bring you home?” Atticus whispers.

You let out a soft sound of disagreement and shake your head. “No, no, I want to stay.”

With a spinning head, you look back up at Jesus, Who is still going on with his sermon. Your heart slams against your chest, worry and guilt making you feel thoroughly uneasy, as if you’re a fraud, not even allowed to even be in His proximity. You are suddenly overcome by the conflicting desire to both run from Him to avoid confrontation and to speak to Him, to ask what He means, how these philosophies hold up when it comes to Gentiles like yourself, and how it should be interpreted in case of a forced, arranged marriage to an abusive husband you had never consented to in the first place.

“–Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him. Pray then like this: Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Estranged by this kind of prayer, your heart hammers against your chest. Within the kind of religion you were familiar with, sin wasn’t at all discussed in this way. A few sacrifices to the right gods could make a lot right regarding your conscience, although you personally never felt like you owed them anything.

You had read about sin in the scroll you had bought, about a holy and solemn day where the High Priest would ask forgiveness for all Jews – at least, if you recalled correctly – but the kind of forgiveness this Teacher preaches seems to involve no priests at all. The position of sin within Jesus’ teaching is altogether different, and you yearn to ask Him more about it, for the words about your adultery towards Quintus seem to have struck something within you, and it coils deep inside your core.

“Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. And everyone then who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the Rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the Rock.”

Astonished, you watch with a racing heart how He concludes the sermon, withdrawing Himself behind the curtains again. People start muttering amongst each other, the followers of Jesus positioning themselves in such a way that they block them from following after Him, asking to keep their distance for the Teacher is tired.

Suddenly dismayed at the thought you might not yet get to speak to Him, you turn to Atticus slowly. He gives you an expectant look. “And, what do you think?”

“That was… Intriguing.” you breathe. Atticus hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s clear that it has touched you, and I understand, these are words that are quite unique. You must be tired, too.”

Although you’d rather stay for a while longer, your ankles have started to ache beyond your ability to ignore it. You meekly nod, letting your eyes go to Gaius, who is staring at the two of you a tad strangely, then focuses his gaze upon the distance.

“Do you want me to escort you back home, my lady?” There is a teasing edge to Atticus’ voice at the mention of the title he publicly addresses you with, and you have to fight a smile.

“I wouldn’t mind staying for a few more minutes,” you breathe.

Gaius clears his throat. Turning to him, you give him an expectant look, but when he doesn’t speak up, you focus your attention on the crowd again. “Look at them,” you murmur, “They are with so many, coming from so far away to see this Preacher.” Swallowing thickly, you look at Atticus. “Can you get me close to Him? Please, cohorte. I’d love to meet Him face to face this time and ask about some things.”

The investigator hums and rubs through his stubble, giving a small shake of his head. “I fear that it wouldn’t be the best of ideas, my lady. After all, you must remain under the Primi’s supervision.”

Atticus’ tone alerts you that he only says this to keep up appearances for Gaius, whose eyes are still drilling into you. Feigning distance from the man you so desperately love is proving more difficult with the minute, and you fear that you might slip up one of these days.

“Alright.” you sigh with faux defeat in your voice, and Atticus gives you an apologetic look before brushing past you towards Gaius to exchange a few words.

The Primi is oddly quiet and seems to be sunken away in deep thought, as if he is mulling over the words Jesus had said.

“Well?”

Gaius simply grunts.

Atticus lets out a huff. “My thoughts exactly. I’ll see you in the morning then, for our report to Quintus.”

“Mhm.” Gaius hums.

Chuckling, Atticus nods. “Good chat.” he amusedly mutters, “Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here to keep an eye on the crowd, make sure that nobody steps out of line. I’ll escort lady (Y/n) back home, for she should get off her feet soon.”

Gaius’ brow furrows. “Ah, that is kind of you, but Praetor Quintus has given me the task to look after her personally. I don’t want to get in trouble. Plus, you don’t have a horse and she cannot walk that far.”

Atticus gestures towards the village. “My horse is hitched just a bit over there, she doesn’t have to walk far at all, I’ll make sure of that. And although your loyalty to Quintus is applaudable, you know that I, too, take my job very seriously and will make sure that nothing will happen to the lady.”

The Primi pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, knowing that he cannot let on too much of what he knows – yet – and hesitantly agrees to let you go with the cohorte he had witnessed to be having an affair with the very wife of the man who he has sworn his loyalty to. Conflicted, Gaius mutters his response.

“Alright, then.” he states, “But I don’t really like the fact that I might be getting in trou–”

“You won’t, I’ll make sure of that.” you interrupt him.

Tight-lipped, Gaius gives you a nod. “Much obliged, my lady. Have a safe trip home.”

“You stay safe, too, Primi.”

Atticus pulls over his hood and instructs you to do the same with your cloak, and follow this command to shield yourself from any unwanted onlookers. After all, now that you’re not sitting on a horse, you’re much more vulnerable to the crowd, who aren’t necessarily keen on Romans like yourself.

“This way,” states your lover, and you veer left, nearing the back-stage area where Jesus and His followers sit. Your heartbeat picks up speed rapidly and you crane your neck in the hopes of catching a glimpse.

“What did you think?” Atticus muses, not revealing his thoughts just yet.

Your eyes momentarily go to him as the two of you halt just far enough to stay out of Gaius’ field of view. “It was very emotionally moving. I… I still have to process the words, really. What did you think?”

Scratching through his beard, Atticus smiles. “Hm… Perhaps the same thing, I still need to reflect on it, too. So, darling, what would you like to do? Are we just going to stand here, or shall I instead bring you home?”

You lean closer to him with raised brows and flushed cheeks.

“Be careful with your nicknames in public, please… Somebody could hear us! And… The house that I live in with Quintus is not much of a home. Rather, it’s you I consider to be my home.”

Pleasantly surprised by these words, Atticus gives you a charming glance. “Hm, that’s very poetic of you, my love.” Putting emphasis on the sweet name, he manages to turn the compliment back to you.

Upon opening your mouth to speak, your words get stuck in your throat when your eye falls on Jesus, Whose followers are packing up their belongings. His blue sash has been removed and He seems about to be leaving as well.

A tad taken aback by how casual He appears to be in this very moment, you suddenly see a sliver of red, alongside the sound of chiming jewellery. You sharply turn towards the source of the noise, and a familiar scent fills your nostrils – her perfume.

“Joanna!” you breathe, and she freezes in her tracks, seemingly just on her way to do something else altogether as she takes notice of you. Over her arm is draped a crimson scarf of fine shahtoosh that you remember from the outfit she had been wearing during the banquet.

“(Y/n)!”

“You made it!” you quip.

Joanna grins and puts a hand on her chest, grinning widely at you. “You, too!” Atticus does not intervene when she wraps her arms around you tightly, trusting the situation. Embracing her firmly, you momentarily forget that you’ve got company.

Upon pulling back, you look at her whilst smiling from ear to ear, still in disbelief of seeing her here. She mirrors it, holding your hands in hers, and she cannot stop beaming. “Oh, (Y/n), that was incredible, wasn’t it? So eye-opening! I… I must speak to Him!”

“How? We will never get close to them!”

The two of you turn towards the area where Jesus and His Disciples are hanging out, and just now she seems to realise that Atticus is standing there, albeit shielded by the hood of his cloak. She does, however, not question it right now, preoccupied with matters way more important.

“We should mention that we know John the Baptiser. After all, I’ve got a message for Jesus that I must deliver to Him personally.”

With widened eyes, you let out a yelp when she grabs your hand and pulls you along. You immediately sense Atticus’ presence behind you, shadowing you enough to stay out of focus yet close enough to spring into action should things turn sour.

You approach three women, one of whom you instantly recognise to be Tamar, but you have no chance to greet her when Joanna speaks up already.

“Excuse me,” she catches their attention, “You’re followers of the Teacher, yes?”

“Yes, shalom,” a woman with a pink scarf over her hair greets you. She is familiar and you suddenly realise she is the woman who had been present when the friend of Tamar was healed, but you cannot remember her name.

“Yes, may I speak with Him?”

Tamar gives the two of you an apologetic look. “He’s about to leave.” she states, “We all are. It’s been a very long day.” When her gaze settles upon you, something flashes behind it, as if she is attempting to remember who you are.

Joanna takes the shahtoosh scarf from her arm. “I want to give you this.”

“Uh, I-I don’t… Uh… Thank you, what for?” the woman with the pink veil stutters, clearly taken aback by the offer.

“It’s an offering.” Joanna clarifies matter-of-factly, “There was no collection taken?”

The woman in the middle who is wearing a red scarf on her head shakes her head slightly. “He didn’t ask for that.” she states, “This isn’t a way to get to speak to Him.”

Tamar reaches out before Joanna can respond to it, touching the delicate fabric. “Is that shahtoosh?” she murmurs incredulously.

“Yes, from Nepal.” Joanna breathes, handing it over to her.

“And you’re donating this to His ministry?”

Joanna nods in agreement. “Yes, and there will be more.”

The woman in the middle narrows her eyes slightly. “And who are you?”

“My name is Joanna,” she says, “And this is my friend, (Y/n). I bring greetings to Jesus from someone, so if I could just only have a moment…?”

“From who?” the woman with the red headscarf suspiciously asks.

For a second, Joanna pauses, swallowing thickly. “I come from Machaerus. I’ve spoken with John… The Baptiser.”

The woman with the pink veil turns over her shoulder, all three of them clearly bewildered with this sudden statement. “Andrew? Come over here.”

A man with dark curls trots towards the group and you realise you have seen him before, when you were at Matthew’s booth a long time ago, when he and his brother had claimed to have business with your husband.

“She says she’s spoken with John in Machaerus.”

“Both of us, actually,” Joanna clarifies, gesturing towards you.

Andrew’s face twists into shock. “When?! How?! You’ve–You’ve seen him?”

“Yes, my husband works in Herod’s court, so I’ve had the opportunity to speak with John since he’s been… Since he’s been brought in.” she explains, and momentarily looks at you. “With my friend, (Y/n), too. We were intrigued by his words, and…”

Andrew stumbles over his words. “You’ve talked— Is he okay– What-What did he say?”

A soft smile graces Joanna’s lips. “You’re Andrew.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” she whispers. “He mentioned you. You were a follower of his?”

Andrew nods firmly. “Yes, is he… Is he hurt?”

Joanna sighs. “No…Well, uh, yes, I… It’s not a great place for him to be. He’s upset some important people. But he wanted you especially, Andrew, to know that he is in good spirits.”

Relieved by this message, Andrew firmly nods. “Can I see him?” he queries.

However, Someone behind the fisherman interrupts the conversation. “This is Jesus,” the woman with the pink veil states, and both you and Joanna are momentarily dumbfounded.

“Yes, of course!” Joanna whispers as He steps forward to stand in front of the two of you.

Your heart is beating rapidly inside your chest as nerves course through your entire system, with a throat that runs dry as you look at Him, finally face to face with the Preacher you had been so intrigued to speak with.

“I saw your teaching.” Joanna states.

Jesus smiles, looks at her, “Hello Joanna,” then lets His gaze go to you.

Once He catches it, you feel your breath hitch inside your lungs. Preventing yourself from gawking at Him, you run your sweaty palms down your dress, hoping you will not faint.

“And shalom, (Y/n),” He says your name. It sounds kind and gentle, void of any accusation of why you are here in the first place.

A beat of silence as he kindly observes you before opening His mouth to add something:

“It is an honour that I finally get to speak to you.”

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#atticus #the chosen atticus #atticus x you #atticus x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #gentile #the chosen #the chosen x reader #x reader #reader insert #angel studios

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