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bradshawsbaby · 10 months

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Si Vis Amari Ama

VII. A Banquet to Remember

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Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: This one is another beast of a chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 15.2k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, physical abuse, brief allusions to prostitution, unwanted sexual advances, violence, language, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

Phoenix had been right in her warning about Domina’s temper when it came to preparing for a banquet. These past couple weeks had been the worst of your life since you’d been sold into the household. Everyone, from Hrodebert and the other chief stewards down to the lowliest kitchen maid, had been walking on eggshells since your mistress had announced that she and Dominus would be hosting a massive feast for the Roman elite to kick off the summer games.

Not that it did any of you any good.

Aurelia had been in rare form for the last two weeks, snapping at everyone and quick to lay hands on anyone who displeased her. Just the other day, she’d given Flavia, one of the kitchen slaves, a fat lip for spilling some of her wine at dinner.

“You fat, clumsy oaf!” Aurelia had shrieked, startling the rest of you who had been serving the evening meal. “Look at what you’ve done to my new stola!” she raged, lifting up the delicate material, now stained dark red. She didn’t even hesitate as she raised her hand and smacked Flavia across the face, one of her heavy rings catching on the poor girl’s lower lip and splitting the skin. “Is that how you’re going to serve guests at our party? What an embarrassment!”

Flavia stood there, trembling and lowering her head as she accepted the abuse that was heaped upon her. “I—I’m sorry, Domina. Please forgive—”

“Get out of my sight, you hideous beast!” Aurelia screamed, throwing her half-filled wine goblet at the girl. “Stay in the kitchens where you belong! I do not want to see your face again, especially not at the banquet!”

Tears streaming down her face and blood trickling down her chin, Flavia turned and fled from the triclinium, bumping into you in her hurried rush out of the room. Frozen in place, you turned to look at your master and mistress, the platter you’d been holding clutched tightly in your hands. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Stupid girl,” Aurelia huffed angrily, wiping at her ruined stola with a hand that was so gentle to behold, but which belied the violence it was capable of inflicting.

Beside her, Atticus said nothing, just continued to drink his wine and pick at his dinner. It was almost as if he had been completely deaf to his wife’s attack on Flavia. Standing there, staring at the both of them with wide eyes, you weren’t certain who you should be more afraid of.

“Sabina, don’t just stand there like an idiot,” Aurelia hissed, snapping her fingers impatiently. “What do you expect us to do? Sit here and starve?”

Considering the massive spread you, Phoenix, and the others had already placed on their low dining table, you highly doubted either your master or your mistress were going to starve any time soon, but you certainly would not voice that thought aloud. Swallowing nervously, you stepped forward and carefully placed the tray down. The smell of the eel, doused in a hearty helping of garum, was enough to make your stomach churn.

Before you could step away from the dining table, Aurelia suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of your wrist, her grip shockingly painful for such a delicate woman. You held back the gasp that bubbled up in your throat, trying hard not to wince.

“Look at these hands,” Aurelia murmured in disgust, carefully examining your palm and fingernails. “You look like a dockworker. I’ve never seen hands so rough in all my life. This is what you get for forcing her to work in that hideous ludus of yours. Now she’ll be an embarrassment to us when she serves at table,” she frowned, waving your hand in Atticus’ direction.

When you turned your head towards your master, you were startled to find that his gaze was already resting on you—and there was an intensity in his stare that you’d never seen before.

“I highly doubt our guests will be examining the state of our slaves’ hands, Aurelia,” Atticus told her dryly, his dark eyes never leaving your face. You felt a cold shiver snake its way down your spine. You had seen the way men looked at you when you ran errands at the market or when you served at table during dinner parties, but the look your master had trained on you now was not one of lust or desire. His was a hard look, a calculating look. It seemed that he was looking into your very soul, plotting. But plotting what? You couldn’t even begin to imagine. Either way, his gaze triggered a tight knot of fear in the pit of your stomach.

Aurelia just scoffed in disgust, tossing your hand back at you as though it was a limp fish. “Be gone,” she told you irritably, waving you away.

It almost felt as though Domina had been going out of her way to find fault with you as of late. Your hair was always too sloppy. Your tunic never sat right. The calluses on your hands were too rough. You never styled her hair the way she wanted. You were too clumsy with her jewelry. Your cleaning was never thorough enough. The list went on and on.

No matter how slight the offense, your mistress always made sure to punish you. “You stupid girl, when will you ever learn?” she demanded through gritted teeth as she pulled your hair and slapped you around, or threw the nearest object she could find at you. She’d once purposely smashed one of her make-up pots at your feet, just so that she could force you to clean it up.

The humiliation was often worse than the pain, though the pain could get pretty bad as well. Your face and arms were littered with so many bruises that part of you was glad preparations for the banquet had been keeping you from the ludus. You knew that Gallus would be enraged if he saw the marks on you, that he would want to do something. But what could he do? He was as much a slave as you were, and to lay a hand on Aurelia would mean instant death for him.

You missed him though. So much. You had gotten to see him sporadically over the course of the past few weeks, usually only when assisting Titus after the training bouts. But with so much going on at the villa, your evening visits to his cell had become nonexistent.

When you were young, your mother had once told you that absence makes the heart grow fonder. You hadn’t quite understood what that meant at the time. You’d assumed it had something to do with your father traveling for work. But now you knew exactly what Mater had been talking about. Though there was not much physical distance between you and Gallus, you felt the separation caused by your own busyness quite keenly. And it only made you long for his company all the more. You weren’t sure when it had happened exactly, but he had become more dear to you than anything else in your life, and the yearning for his closeness had become a physical ache deep inside your bones.

You knew Phoenix felt the same way about Carnifex. It had been just as long since she’d been able to rest in his arms, and it was clearly making her antsy.

“I can’t wait for this stupid banquet to be over!” your friend snapped one day, angrily throwing down the rag she’d been using to clean the tiles of the mosaic gracing the interior of one of the garden fountains. “I’m tired of this inane work!”

Sighing deeply, you dropped your own rag and wordlessly slipped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “It’ll be over soon, and then you’ll get to see him again,” you whispered, making sure there was no one else in the garden to overhear you.

Phoenix looked as though she was about to cry. It unsettled you, seeing that look of fear in her dark eyes. Phoenix was never afraid.

“The banquet will be over soon,” she said flatly, looking directly into your eyes. “But then the games will begin.”

Despite the summer heat, your body felt cold all over and you could sense the hair standing up on the back of your neck.

Yes, the banquet would be over soon, but that meant a new type of worry would take over when Gallus, Carnifex, and all the others began competing in the arena once more. You closed your eyes and swallowed back the nausea you felt rising up your throat when you recalled the violence and brutality of the games as Phoenix had described them to you.

“It’s going to be alright,” you whispered soothingly, hoping you sounded half convincing. Gallus had promised you that everything was going to be alright, and you wanted so desperately to believe him.

Now the banquet was just one day away, and final preparations were underway. Alba had been in an even more sour mood than usual these past few days, the responsibility of preparing an unforgettable feast for over a hundred guests clearly weighing heavily upon her. You and Phoenix had been spending the majority of your time as of late in the kitchen, assisting with whatever was needed.

This morning, what was needed was several more ingredients from the marketplace. Alba had made a long list, which she’d promptly handed off to Hrodebert so that he could balance the books and give those doing the shopping the money they needed to cover the expenses.

Much to your relief, you and Phoenix were among the slave girls chosen to go to the market. Though you usually found the Forum overwhelming, with merchants trying to hawk their wares while politicians and philosophers angled for the people’s attention and priests and priestesses demanded offerings at the temples, at least it would mean a few hours out of the household.

“Here you are,” Hrodebert murmured softly, handing you and Phoenix the individual shopping lists he had composed for each of you. Thorough as ever, he had made neat rows numbering each of the items you were expected to purchase, and how much should be spent for each.

“Thank you, Hrodebert,” you smiled, slipping your list inside the pocket of your tunic and lifting your empty basket onto your arm.

Glancing over both shoulders, Hrodebert lowered his voice as he added. “And a little something extra, for each of you.” With swift fingers, he pressed a few small copper coins into your palm, and then Phoenix’s.

Phoenix grinned, squeezing your arm when you instinctively opened your mouth to question your friend’s actions. “Thank you, Hrodebert,” she said, her smile bright as she shot you a pointed look. “I’ll explain to Sabina exactly what we need to do,” she added with a wink, waving to him before pulling you out of the villa and onto the relatively peaceful streets of the Palatine Hill. There were some perks to belonging to a household in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Rome.

Knowing enough to remain quiet until you were far enough away from the villa, and from the ears of the other girls who were on their way to the market with you, you walked in companionable silence with your friend until you began approaching the center of the city, where the streets became more crowded and the noise of the people rose in volume.

“What was Hrodebert thinking?” you finally asked, the copper coins he had given you still fisted tightly in your hand. “Won’t Dominus find out?” Your master was notoriously tight-fisted about his money. “I don’t want Hrodebert getting in trouble on our account.”

“Calm down,” Phoenix assured you, threading her arm through yours so that you wouldn’t get separated in the growing crush of people. “Hrodebert knows what he’s doing. Whenever he can manage it, he gives those of us he trusts a little bit of personal spending money to use in the marketplace. Nothing too extravagant. I usually just buy myself something sweet that I can eat before I return,” she explained. She smiled as she nudged your shoulder playfully. “Clearly, you’ve earned his trust.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. You liked Hrodebert immensely and you were glad to be able to count him as a friend. But that was why you were so worried about him getting in trouble.

“But doesn’t Dominus notice the money going missing?” you pressed, biting down nervously on your lower lip. “I know it’s probably nothing to a man as wealthy as him, a few copper coins here and there, but surely he’ll realize eventually?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Phoenix insisted, waving your concerns away with her free hand. “Hrodebert has a way of making sure that everything balances itself out.” She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye and looked as though she was about to say more, but then shook her head. “Believe me, Sabina. Atticus won’t know.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Hrodebert was a smart and sensible man. Surely he wouldn’t do anything that would get him into trouble. And Phoenix seemed so sure. It must be fine, if this was something he did on a somewhat regular basis.

Squeezing through the throng of people, from slave to freedman to citizen, you and Phoenix stepped into the heart of the city of Rome—the Forum. All manner of business was conducted here, from commercial to political to religious, truly making it the heartbeat of the empire. It was a bit too noisy and crowded for your comfort, and you always had to be on the lookout for pickpockets and thieves, but even you couldn’t deny that there was a certain level of excitement to be found within the confines of the Forum. It certainly got the blood pumping, especially on a warm summer day, such as today.

You always found it rather funny, the way people from all walks of life seemed to converge in the Forum. Here, between the Palatine and Capitoline Hills, slaves walked the same path as Senators. Foreigners could sell their goods, the same as Roman citizens. And just yards away from the Temple of Vesta, where the Vestal Virgins gave their lives to serve the goddess of hearth and home, prostitutes tried to lure men away to establishments of a very different type of worship. It all happened here, in the Forum.

Walking past the newly constructed Temple of Vespasian and Titus, which had been completed only a few years earlier by Emperor Domitian in honor of his late father and brother, you and Phoenix hurried into the marketplace proper, where countless stalls were set up, offering all manner of goods from every corner of the empire.

“Okay, you have your list?” Phoenix asked, pulling out her own list of assigned purchases.

Nodding, you pulled your list out of your pocket as well and held it up. The coins Hrodebert had given you to buy everything you needed were tucked securely within a pouch, tied inside your tunic.

“Perfect,” Phoenix grinned, glancing over both shoulders. “It’s busy here today. Probably a lot of people are coming into the city to watch the opening of the games.” She glared suspiciously at a young street urchin who stepped a little too close for comfort. He took the hint and backed off, in search of more distracted prey. “Let’s stick together. It might take us a little longer, but that way we’ll have more time out of the house,” she teased. “We’ll get everything we need first, then we can see how we want to spend those extra coins.”

For the next hour or so, you and Phoenix scoured the marketplace in search of the freshest lettuce, cabbage, leeks, asparagus, mushrooms, artichokes, and chickpeas you could find. You had also been tasked with hunting down more pears, plums, grapes, chestnuts, figs, and apples. Within no time at all, both yours and Phoenix’s baskets were heavily weighed down with all the produce Alba had demanded.

“My goodness, I’ve never seen so much food in all my life,” you groaned, lifting your basket up with effort.

“Just you wait,” Phoenix sighed, rolling her eyes towards the blue midmorning sky. “Everything is a spectacle with those two. This banquet is going to be an absolutely ridiculous display of their wealth, trust me. These damn Romans, always trying to one up each other with their money,” she muttered. Then she winced, and looked over at you. “No offense. You’re the only Roman that I like.”

You laughed, no offense taken. “And sadly, I have no money to show off,” you joked, which made your friend laugh in return.

Just as you both moved to look at one of the spice stalls, you heard someone calling out your friend’s name.

“Phoenix! Phoenix!”

Turning, Phoenix let out a delighted gasp of surprise when she caught sight of an older, dark-haired woman making her way through the crowd. “Penelope!” she exclaimed, putting her basket down on the ground for a moment so that she could embrace the woman. “It’s been so long!”

The two women began speaking to one another in rapid-fire Greek, which caught you off guard for a moment. You’d heard Phoenix utter a word or phrase in Greek here or there, but you’d never heard her converse with another person in her mother tongue before. She seemed so at ease and happy that it made you smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she cried, suddenly switching back to Latin and reaching out an apologetic arm in your direction, drawing you into the small circle. “How rude of me. Sabina, this is Penelope, Magnus’ wife. Penelope, this is Sabina. She works with me in the ludus, and she’s also one of my dearest friends,” Phoenix introduced you, smiling as she squeezed your arm.

“Hello, Sabina,” Penelope greeted you warmly, holding out her hand. She had a gentle voice and a kind smile, her beautiful green eyes meeting yours in a way that wasn’t intimidating or frightening. You liked her instantly. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” you asked in surprise, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. Had she heard of you before? You couldn’t imagine how.

Penelope laughed softly at that, brushing a wisp of her dark brown hair out of her eyes. “Magnus has spoken very highly of you.”

Her words nearly knocked you over in shock. Magnus had spoken of you? To his wife? You couldn’t begin to understand why. He was always very polite and kind whenever you interacted with him, but that was rare. He was usually too preoccupied dealing with the men’s training. What could you have possibly done that would make him speak highly of you?

Sensing your surprise, Penelope smiled again. Her smile reminded you of your mother’s. “He tells me that you’ve been a great help around the ludus, assisting Titus and Phoenix,” she explained, nodding in your friend’s direction. “Magnus appreciates a hard worker. He also tells me that you’ve been very helpful where Gallus is concerned,” she added, shooting a pointed look in Phoenix’s direction. You noticed that your friend was fighting to mask a smile.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the hidden meaning in her words. Were you that obvious in your affection for Gallus that even Magnus had taken notice? You were still shocked to learn that he had taken notice of you at all. And he thought you were a hard worker? The thought filled you with pleasure, but you were also a bit hesitant to accept his praise. You liked Magnus, from what you’d seen of him, but you had been wary of him ever since Gallus had told you the reason for their feud. You still couldn’t understand why, as a man who had himself earned his freedom in the arena, Magnus would block Gallus from gaining the same opportunity.

Clearly, Penelope was a perceptive woman because she seemed to understand the conflicting emotions playing out across your face. “Gallus means a lot to Magnus,” she said softly, as if she had just read your mind. “They all do. All he wants is to make sure that they come home, and that they live to fight another day.” She reached out to rest a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Please believe me when I say that Magnus had his reasons for doing what he did.”

Phoenix looked startled at that, glancing over at you. “Did Gallus tell you what happened between him and Magnus?” she asked, dark eyes widening.

“Yes,” you nodded, adjusting your hold on your basket as you glanced down at your feet. “But I promised him that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Instead of looking offended, Phoenix just smiled impishly. “Hmm, interesting,” she murmured, nudging you playfully before hefting her own basket and stepping out of the way of a group of babbling merchants. From the way they were dressed, you guessed they had come from some part of Egypt.

Feeling your cheeks grow warm and desiring to change the subject, you glanced back up at Penelope, who was smiling at you knowingly. “So, Penelope, have you and Magnus been married for a long time?” you asked curiously.

“Almost ten years now,” she responded, stepping up to the spice stall and carefully examining the saffron. “But I’ve known him for much longer.”

“Penelope’s father was an admiral in the Athenian Navy,” Phoenix explained, stepping beside the older woman and haggling with the merchant for some pepper and coriander.

Penelope smiled, nodding at that. “My father moved us to Rome after he retired from the Navy and decided to invest in the shipping business. He’s managed to carve out quite a lucrative career for himself. I’ve been here since I was a teenager. The first time I laid eyes on Magnus was when I saw him competing in the games.”

“It was love at first sight,” Phoenix smirked, placing pouches of the spices she’d just purchased in her basket. “Penelope found out where his ludus was, and discovered ways she could ‘just so happen’ to pass by while he was training.”

Penelope laughed, an honest, hearty sound that made you like her all the more. “I’ll admit, I was a bit of a flirt. But so was he,” she grinned.

“And you fell in love?” you asked, your pulse racing as you found yourself thinking of the gladiator back home who had captured your heart.

“We fell in love,” Penelope confirmed, nodding. “But it wasn’t easy. He was a slave. He belonged to his ludus. And my father was furious when he found out. He even tried to have Magnus shipped off to another part of the empire.”

“So what did you do?” you asked, getting swept up in the drama and intrigue of their story.

Penelope sighed, shrugging her shoulders almost sadly. “There was really nothing we could do. We just tried to enjoy the times we did have together, whenever we could carve them out. There were periods where I went months and months without seeing him. I accepted that that might be our fate forever.”

“And then he won his freedom?” you questioned, arching a curious brow.

She smiled again. “And then he won his freedom. My father was still against the match though. It took another few years of Magnus breaking his back, finding whatever work he could, before my father finally agreed to let us marry.”

“That sounds very romantic,” you told her, imagining a young Penelope and Magnus sneaking around for their little rendezvous whenever they could. It made you view the Pugiones’ trainer in a different light.

“It was hard,” Penelope replied, making her own purchases with the spice merchant, who looked mildly disgruntled to be kept waiting. “But we were in love. And people often do crazy things—things they never would have dreamed of doing before—when they’re in love.”

Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way Phoenix lowered her head, her jaw tightening and her throat constricting as Penelope’s words washed over the both of you.

“Oh, but I’ve held you up long enough. Magnus told me that Aurelia and Atticus are hosting a big banquet tomorrow night,” Penelope went on, gazing down at your baskets. “I’m sure you both must have so much that still needs to be done.”

“Well, you know how Aurelia is,” Phoenix muttered, scuffing the cobbled ground with the tip of her sandal.

Penelope smiled sadly, a mix of compassion and empathy in her eyes as she looked at the two of you. “Take care of yourselves, girls,” she murmured, touching each of your cheeks in a motherly gesture. “I hope to see you soon.”

“Goodbye, Penelope. It was nice to meet you,” you told her, Phoenix echoing your farewell.

Within seconds, the massive crowd swallowed Penelope up and she was gone from sight. Phoenix turned to look at you. “Penelope is great, huh?” she asked.

You nodded, feeling oddly bereft of the woman’s comforting presence. “She reminds me of my mother,” you said, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear.

“Mine, too,” Phoenix smiled, squeezing your hand for a moment before looking back at her list. “Well, I think we’ve got everything from my list. How about yours?”

You pulled your shopping list back out of your pocket and checked it over twice, not wanting to miss a single item. You weren’t in the mood for Alba’s wrath on top of everything else. “We’ve got everything from my list, too.”

“Oh, good! That means it’s time for some sweets,” Phoenix laughed, waggling her eyebrows teasingly as she tugged you off in the opposite direction of where Penelope had disappeared. “There’s a stall not far from here that sells the best stuffed dates,” she exclaimed. It looked like her mouth was watering just at the notion. “I get them whenever Hrodebert gives me a little extra. Just don’t let me eat them all, so that I can share some with him when we get back.”

Giggling softly, you traipsed along behind her, your own mouth watering at the thought of the sweet dates stuffed with walnuts and pine nuts and coated in honey. You hadn’t had a delicacy such as that in years. As you were following behind Phoenix, however, you got distracted by a stall you had never noticed before. The merchant standing behind the table, which was heavily laden with various carvings, trinkets, and pieces of jewelry, looked to be foreign. Certainly not Roman.

“Ah, would you like to take a look, dear lady?” the merchant asked, noticing your interest right away. His accent was definitely foreign, though you couldn’t quite place it. “Here we have some of the most exotic treasures from the farthest corners of the empire.”

Phoenix, realizing that you were no longer behind her, doubled back and came up beside you, tugging on your hand. “Come on, Sabina. Merchants like him will just rip you off every time for some worthless baubles,” she whispered in your ear.

The man, catching sight of your torn expression, pressed on, obviously not wanting to lose a potential sale. “Please, come see for yourself, my lady. We have prized ornaments from Egypt, Ethiopia, Hispania, Gaul, Britannia—”

“Did you say Britannia?” you asked, perking up immediately at the name of Gallus’ homeland.

The merchant’s eyes lit up at your renewed curiosity. “Yes, yes, my lady,” he nodded furiously. “Britannia. The homeland of my wife,” he said excitedly, indicating the table. “Please, come see. We have many beautiful carvings that may interest you.”

“Sabina,” Phoenix whispered again, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s okay, Phoenix. Just a minute. I won’t let him scam me,” you assured her, stepping closer to the table, where the merchant was setting forth several wood carvings, all of which appeared to be of lovely craftsmanship.

“These are beautiful,” you complimented him sincerely, lightly running your fingers over a few larger pieces. “And these all come from Britannia?”

“Yes,” the merchant nodded, smiling once again as he picked up a carving of some type of bird. “Made from the finest oak the land has to offer. My wife carves them herself. Oh, here she is now!” he exclaimed, pointing at a woman who was making her way towards the stall from across the Forum.

She was tall, but slender, her body appearing as graceful as a Roman pine tree. As she got closer, you were struck by the fact that she had the same coloring as Gallus, the same ruddy cheeks and golden brown eyes, her dark hair falling in loose waves down her back.

“My love, this dear lady was just admiring some of your carvings,” her husband said with a wide smile. You found yourself touched by the fact that he appeared to be so genuinely proud of his wife’s work. Perhaps it was an act, but you didn’t think so.

“Ah, yes?” the woman replied with a smile, beaming at you as she stepped behind the table. “Did my husband tell you they are made from the oak trees of my homeland in Britannia?”

“Yes,” you nodded, looking again at the carvings that lay before you. “These are so beautiful. I have a friend who’s from Britannia. He hasn’t seen his homeland in so many years. I wonder if he would like one of these.”

You didn’t fail to notice the pointed look Phoenix shot you, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“How much?” you asked, pointing at the smallest carving on the table.

When the merchant named his price, your face fell. Of course it would be that expensive. You had been foolish to think you could buy anything for Gallus from a stall like this with only a few copper coins.

“Oh, I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Thank you anyway.”

As you turned, however, the merchant’s wife suddenly caught hold of your hand. “I have a few others. Smaller pieces with minor imperfections. Perhaps you’d like to take a look and we can agree upon a discounted price?”

Brightening slightly, you nodded. “Alright,” you agreed, waiting as she stepped inside a small tent for a few moments.

“Here we are,” she told you, setting down several smaller wooden pieces.

Your eyes scanned the table slowly, but your breath caught in your throat when you spotted one carving in particular. Bending closer to inspect it more carefully, you saw that it was, in fact, a carving of a wolf, its snout turned upward as if it was baying at the moon. But perched upon its nose was a tiny dove, its wings spread outward.

“Ah, an excellent choice,” the merchant’s wife murmured, lifting the piece you had been examining. “Very symbolic. The wolf represents the warrior—strong, loyal, a fierce protector. The dove represents peace, innocence, and purity. They make up two halves of one whole. You can’t have one without the other.”

Your heart fluttered inside your chest when you recalled the term of endearment Gallus had let slip that night in his cell—little dove. And he was very much like the wolf this woman had described—strong, loyal, protective. A warrior. You had to get this for him, you just had to.

“How much for this piece?” you asked, heart hammering nervously. You knew that in order to haggle, you had to maintain a calm and cool demeanor.

She named a price that was still too far outside your budget, and you offered a counter price.

“I’m afraid it’s still too low, my dear,” she said, shaking her head.

“I understand,” you murmured sadly, taking one last look at the lovely little carving.

“Wait,” Phoenix suddenly exclaimed, stepping in between you and the merchants. She offered a new price, double your counter offer.

The husband and wife looked at one another, silently discussing the transaction with nothing but their eyes, until finally the woman looked back at you and smiled. “You have a deal,” she nodded.

“Phoenix, no,” you said in a hushed tone, watching your friend reach for the money Hrodebert had given her. She placed it in your hand with a smile.

“I can get stuffed dates any time,” she told you with a careless shrug. “You don’t always come across a treasure like that,” she winked.

“Thank you,�� you mouthed, turning and paying the merchants with the copper coins Hrodebert had given both you and Phoenix.

“I hope your friend likes the gift,” the woman told you, wrapping it for you and placing it inside your basket. “May it bring you protection and peace.”

“Thank you very much,” you smiled, waving to the couple as you and Phoenix walked off. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told your friend as the two of you began following the winding path out of the Forum.

“Of course I did,” Phoenix shot back, grinning. “I couldn’t let you not get that carving. Gallus is going to love it, by the way,” she smirked knowingly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm under your friend’s scrutinizing gaze. “I just wanted to get him something that reminded him of home. He seems so…lonely at times.”

“Mhm,” Phoenix nodded, hoisting her basket up onto her hip. “But he doesn’t have to be so lonely anymore—not with you.”

“Phoenix!” you gasped, your skin growing even warmer at her insinuation. “I haven’t—I mean, we’re just—”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Sabina. It’s certainly not the way he looks at me or any of his other friends. You’re different,” she said, her tone serious as she glanced sideways at you, carefully picking her way among the crowd.

You were quiet for a few moments, pondering her words. Were you really different? Did Gallus look at you the way Phoenix said? Could he really care for you, beyond the care of one friend for another?

“You’re special to him, Sabina, believe me,” Phoenix insisted, huffing softly as the two of you began to climb back up the Palatine Hill. “I’ve known Gallus for many years and I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you.”

Trying to hide your smile, you hefted your own basket onto your hip as you walked beside her. You felt your heart fluttering inside your chest once more, this time with hope. Maybe there was a chance that you and Gallus could be something more. The thought terrified and thrilled you at the same time.

“But be careful, Sabina,” Phoenix warned, biting down on her lower lip as she looked over at you. There was pain in her eyes as she said, “You know what Aurelia and Atticus are capable of.”

The hope that had been blossoming inside your heart suddenly wilted.

You and Phoenix walked the rest of the journey home in silence, the both of you lost in your own private thoughts. But as you approached your master’s property, Phoenix’s eyes suddenly lit up with an idea.

“Let’s enter through the ludus,” she said, grinning. “The boys should probably be on their midafternoon break by now, and we might be able to see them for a few minutes. Plus, you can give Gallus his gift,” she smiled, bumping her shoulder against yours.

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling in return. Your spirit was buoyed by her suggestion, and you felt the anticipation building in your stomach as the two of you made your way through the ludus gates that faced out onto the street, the guard on duty recognizing the both of you.

The training grounds were quieter at this time of day, most of the men either resting or eating a midday meal. Titus and Magnus were nowhere to be seen, which meant that they were probably debriefing with Atticus. As you and Phoenix moved in the direction of the Pugiones’ cells, you were surprised to find them huddled together in a circle, crouched low to the ground.

“What in the name of all the gods are you idiots doing?” Phoenix demanded with a good-natured smirk, lowering her basket to the ground as she stepped nearer to them.

Startled, they all lifted their heads and swiveled them in Phoenix’s direction as one, which was rather comical to watch.

“Look who’s back!” Felix grinned, glancing downward.

The circle of men opened up to reveal the object of their focus—a little orange cat lapping at a bowl of bean stew.

“Apollo!” Phoenix cried happily, falling to her knees immediately to scratch behind the creature's ears. “Oh, it’s been so long! I thought we’d never see you again!”

“He always finds his way back eventually,” Pollux grinned, chuckling when the cat lifted his head and began nuzzling against Phoenix’s hand, purring softly.

“He’s probably the best fed stray in all of Rome,” Carnifex smirked, his eyes meeting Phoenix’s for a moment before darting away.

“Who is this?” you asked curiously, kneeling down on the grass beside Gallus, your cheeks warming when he smiled at you.

“This is Apollo,” he explained, the orange feline strolling up to you and cocking his head to the side, as if wondering who you were.

“Oh, well, excuse me. Hello, Apollo. My name is Sabina,” you introduced yourself, reaching out a tentative hand to pet him.

“You can,” Gallus murmured encouragingly. “Trust me, he loves it,” he added with a grin.

“Apollo is a people person,” Caius jumped in with a laugh.

Laughing as well, you rested your hand on the cat’s soft head and began to stroke his fur gently, cooing softly. Letting out a purr of delight, he pressed himself more firmly against your hand, as if telling you to continue.

“Where did he come from?” you asked, looking up at the circle of faces surrounding you. No one seemed surprised by the cat’s presence, but you were fairly certain that you had never seen him before.

“Apollo? Oh, he’s been around for forever,” Phoenix replied, frowning as she tried to think back to the first time she had ever met the cat.

“He’s been coming around for years,” Felix nodded, chuckling when the cat suddenly turned and jumped into his lap, his tail swishing back and forth contentedly. “We’d see him around the grounds, chasing mice and trying to catch a bird or two.”

“We started leaving food for him, and the next thing we knew, he was showing up every day,” Pollux continued, giving the cat an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“He disappears from time to time, sometimes for a long time, but he always comes back eventually,” Caius said, holding out his hand for the cat to lick.

“I think this is the longest he’s been gone, at least as far as I can remember,” Carnifex explained, trying to think back. “At least five or six months I’d say, especially if Sabina has never met him.”

“We were getting worried about you,” Phoenix cooed, lifting him up in her arms and nuzzling her nose against his.

Apollo let out a soft yawn, as if bored, and jumped out of Phoenix’s arms, returning to his bean stew.

“Oh, how do you like that? What a prince,” Phoenix laughed, crossing her arms over her chest and feigning offense.

“Maybe he came from Egypt, where he was used to being worshiped as a god,” you teased, charmed by the sweet little cat.

Caius perked up at that, smiling at you. “How did you know about that?” he asked curiously.

Sitting back on your heels, you explained, “In the last household where I belonged, there was an older woman named Anipe. She was very kind, and she used to look out for me. She was Egyptian, and she would tell me all about what it was like living there, and the beliefs of her people.” You missed her, but you didn’t dare think about what happened to her after your last master died.

“I was raised in Egypt,” Caius told you, smiling sadly. You remembered Phoenix telling you that before you’d officially been introduced to the Pugiones.

“Anipe always talked about how beautiful it was there,” you said gently, resting a hand on his arm when you saw the emotion clouding his expression.

“It was,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “But I wasn’t free there either. I suppose no place is really home when you’re bound in shackles there.”

You all grew quiet at that, privately musing about a time in your lives when you had been free, no matter how long ago it had been.

After a moment or two, Carnifex cleared his throat, looking up at you and Phoenix. “We haven’t seen much of either of you these past couple weeks. Have they really been keeping you so busy preparing for this supposed banquet?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Do you really have to ask us that question?” Phoenix scoffed, rolling her eyes. She always did that whenever the conversation veered towards your masters. “It’s Aurelia. Of course she’s been keeping us that busy. Thank goodness this banquet is tomorrow. I can’t bear the preparations any longer.”

As Phoenix went on explaining all that the two of you had purchased at the marketplace, Gallus turned to face you and smiled, almost shyly.

“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted, your pulse accelerating at his confession. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to visit with you in the evenings. Domina has just been keeping us so busy and I—”

You stopped talking when you realized that Gallus’ eyes had zeroed in on a large bruise, partially healed, on your forearm. It was hard to remember, but you were fairly certain that one had come from Aurelia throwing a vase at you.

“She did that to you,” he ground out angrily. It wasn’t a question.

Swallowing, you glanced down at the bruise and tried to cover it with your hand, hanging your head in shame. “Yes,” you whispered in a small voice.

When you looked up again, Gallus’ expression had softened, his dark eyes brimming with concern. “Are you okay? How often does this happen?”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, your skin growing warm when he gently took your arm in his hands and began examining the mark. “It’s just—things have been particularly bad lately, but once the banquet is over—”

“I hate that she does this to you,” Gallus said, his hatred for Aurelia burning in his eyes as he looked at you. “I wish more than anything that I could stop her. I would—”

“Gallus,” you cut him off, laying your hand over his. He fell silent as you gazed at him. “It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it’s not,” he told you, his jaw growing tense as he bit back his fury. “I promise you, one day I’m going to make sure she never lays a hand on you again.”

You smiled at his gallant words, thinking once again of the carving you’d purchased. He really was the wolf—strong, loyal, a fierce protector. You wanted to remind him that he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, but you didn’t have the heart to. And, deep down, you wanted to believe him.

“I have a salve,” Gallus said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “In my cell. Titus gave it to me to use on minor cuts and bruises after my fights. It works pretty well. If you—um—well, if you’d like to come to my cell, I can—”

He looked almost embarrassed, his cheeks growing red as he fumbled over his words. You found it incredibly endearing.

“You’re always taking care of me when I get hurt,” he finally managed to get out. “Let me take care of you now. Please?”

Touched, you smiled and nodded, rising from the ground and walking over to where Phoenix was sitting beside the baskets, still talking to the rest of the Pugiones.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to borrow a salve from Gallus’ cell,” you explained softly, reaching into your basket for the small gift you’d purchased and slipping it into your pocket.

Phoenix, Carnifex, Felix, Caius, and Pollux all tried to avoid shooting obvious looks in your direction, but you could practically feel the awareness rolling off them in waves.

“Of course,” Phoenix nodded, trying to mask her smile with her hand. “I’ll be here.”

Feeling your cheeks growing hot once again, you fell into step with Gallus as the two of you made your way towards his cell, butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but be so entirely aware of him, of his large, hulking size beside you, of the heat radiating off his skin, of the way his eyes kept darting to the side and glancing down at you as you walked next to him.

When you walked over the threshold of his cell, the air inside so stiflingly warm, your head started to swim and you were thankful when he offered you the small stool that you usually sat on when you ate dinner with him.

“Just a moment, it should be right here,” Gallus murmured, rummaging through the small basket that he kept beneath his bed. “Ah, here it is,” he said, lifting up a small, round container that looked very much like something Titus would own.

Dragging the other stool across the room until it was sitting just a few inches away from yours, Gallus sat down and removed the lid, the smell of aromatic spices drifting past your nose. “Can you hold out your arm?” he asked, sounding a little nervous.

Smiling encouragingly, you laid your arm out before him, the bruise dark and visible even in the dim light of his cell.

Catching sight of the injury once more, Gallus gritted his teeth and his free hand balled up into a fist. When he saw your expression, however, he softened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, sounding truly contrite. “It’s just—I think of her hurting you and I lose my mind,” he confessed.

“Please, Gallus, it’s okay. Really. I don’t want you getting upset on my account,” you told him, resting the hand of your uninjured arm over his.

“You deserve to have someone get upset on your account,” he said seriously, looking deeply into your eyes.

The air in the room seemed to disappear as the two of you sat staring at one another, your knees touching, neither of you saying anything. Slowly, your gaze shifted from his eyes down to his lips, so pink and perfect and lovely. And it looked like his eyes were resting on your lips, too.

The sound of a crow cawing in the distance shattered the moment, however, and Gallus suddenly cleared his throat, shaking his head as he looked back down at your arm. “It looks like it’s half healed already, but hopefully this will speed things along,” he mumbled, dipping his fingers into the salve and carefully smearing it across your battered skin.

You shivered at the feel of his calloused fingers brushing against your body, his touch so gentle it made you ache. You didn’t think you had ever been touched so tenderly in all your life.

“There you go,” he whispered hoarsely, pulling back and wiping the remnants of the salve off on his tunic.

“Thank you, Gallus,” you murmured in return, not wanting to leave this room. Not wanting to leave him. “Um, I have something for you,” you told him, resting a hand over the carving in your pocket.

“For me?” he asked, raising his head and looking at you in confusion. In a moment of heartbreaking clarity, it dawned on you that nobody had ever given this man a gift for as long as he’d been the property of the Roman Empire.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling at him. “I saw it while Phoenix and I were in the marketplace and it reminded me of you.”

Rising off your stool, you reached into your pocket and carefully removed the carving that the merchant’s wife had wrapped for you. With trembling hands, you held it out to him, hoping that he really would like it.

Gallus just stared at the offering for a moment or two, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. He looked up at you for confirmation before slowly reaching out and taking it into his hands, holding it as gingerly as if it was a newborn.

“You can open it,” you told him with a soft laugh, twisting your hands behind your back to try to hide your sudden nervousness. What if this was a bad idea? What if he didn’t like it?

Swallowing deeply, Gallus carefully unwrapped the carving, letting the linen fall to the floor as he stared at the small oak carving of the wolf and the dove.

He was quiet for several minutes, unmoving as he just sat and stared at the gift, hardly even blinking.

You began to grow anxious by his lack of response, worried that maybe you had upset him. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it was a stupid gesture. Maybe he didn’t even like it.

“The merchant who sold it to me, his wife made it,” you explained, feeling the need to fill the silence. “She’s from Britannia, like you. She said that the carving is made from the wood of an oak tree in your homeland. She explained to me the symbol of the wolf and the dove—strength and peace, coinciding with one another. And I just—I thought you might like it. I thought it might remind you of home,” you stammered. And of me.

Gallus lifted his head slowly, several emotions battling behind his eyes as he gazed at you. He still said nothing, and you wanted nothing more than to run away and hide.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it—”

“Thank you,” Gallus rasped, reaching out with one hand and closing his fingers over yours. “It—it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding, you squeezed his hand and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“No one has ever—” He stopped talking for a moment, looking a bit overcome. “No one has ever given me a gift before. Not since my—not since my parents. I can’t believe you’d think of me like this.”

“Of course I would,” you breathed out, reaching out and touching his cheek. “I wanted you to have something that reminded you of home. And, I know this might sound silly, but it reminded me of the two of us, too. Of our friendship,” you quickly amended, not wanting him to think you too forward. “You’re the wolf—the strong and loyal warrior—and I’m the little dove,” you smiled.

“Yes,” Gallus nodded, reaching out to touch your cheek in return. “My little dove.”

The two of you stood there, touching each other’s faces and gazing into each other’s eyes, for the span of several heartbeats. You sensed something pass between the two of you, something that you couldn’t explain. You felt bonded to this man, connected to him in a way you never had before.

“Gallus,” you whispered, leaning in closer to him as he brushed wisps of your hair back with his thumb.

“Sabina!” Phoenix called out, knocking on the door suddenly. “We must go! Aurelia is throwing a tantrum, and Alba will start throwing one, too, if we’re not back soon.”

Your heart sank as the moment was shattered, Gallus looking as devastated as you felt.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you murmured, loath to leave him, especially after what had just transpired between you.

“I understand,” he nodded, setting down the little carving you’d gifted him on his table. “Will I see you again soon?”

“Yes,” you nodded, hoping that it was true. “The banquet is tomorrow night, and then things should go back to normal. Well, as normal as can be,” you added, attempting a smile.

“Good,” Gallus murmured. Reaching down, he cupped your face in his hands for a moment and then pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his chest for several seconds. “I’ll see you again soon then, little dove.”

“Soon,” you echoed, clinging tightly to him until he released you and led you to the door.

You slipped out of his cell without a backward glance, but as you and Phoenix hurried back toward the villa with your heavy baskets in hand, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you had left your heart behind.

You had never felt so overwhelmed in all your life.

The night of the banquet had finally arrived, and you wanted more than anything for this massive spectacle to just be over. You had never seen such a display in all your life. Your previous master had thrown a few small dinner parties on occasion, but nothing that could rival the scene that was currently taking place in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus.

Phoenix had been able to sense your nervousness as you’d sat braiding each other’s hair, awaiting the guests’ arrival.

“Everything will be fine,” she assured you, squeezing your shoulder as her fingers deftly worked your hair into a neat plait. “Just keep your head down and try to stick to the shadows. They’ll barely even notice you’re there.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t rid yourself of the goosebumps that had risen on your arms. “I’ve never served at a banquet this large before,” you admitted, biting down on your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder at her.

“If you’ve waited on one rich Roman, you’ve waited on a thousand,” Phoenix assured you, adjusting her tunic. You’d all been given new tunics for the evening’s festivities—a pure white garment with a golden sash around the waist. “Trust me, it’s easier to blend in and hide when there’s so many people.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “You know how the men can be?”

Swallowing the shame and embarrassment, you nodded your head slowly.

“Just serve them their food and their wine, and then duck away as quickly as you can. If you have to hide in the kitchens for a little while, do so. Avoid the gardens.” Phoenix’s eyes darkened, and you knew the advice she gave had been borne of years of experience. “They can look all they want, but I refuse to let them touch me.”

You nodded again, heart hammering nervously inside your chest. Reaching over to your friend, you clasped her hands in yours and attempted a smile. “Carnifex would protect you, if he could,” you murmured.

Phoenix smiled sadly, pulling one hand loose to cup your cheek. “And Gallus would protect you. But they won’t be able to defend us, so we must protect ourselves.”

Her advice had proven useful throughout the course of the evening. Several guests, mostly lecherous old men whose money secured them positions of influence within the empire, were quite free with their hands as you served them their wine and dinner.

“You really do have a marvelous set of tits on you,” one of them commented as you bent forward to fill his goblet, his hand snaking out to grope at your breasts.

Startled, you ended up spilling some of the wine on his toga, which caused his friends to throw their heads back in uproarious laughter. They were all drunk.

“Stupid little bitch!” he exclaimed, frowning as he wiped the wine from himself, which gave you ample opportunity to scurry away. Recalling Phoenix’s advice, you decided to tuck yourself away in the kitchen for a while until he could forget your face.

With so much going on in the kitchen, it was easy enough to hide in one of the darkened corners without being noticed by anybody. Alba was frantically directing the rest of the kitchen slaves, in a hurry to send out platter after platter of venison, wild boar, rabbit, pheasant, oysters, and lobster. Each platter was more elaborately designed and decorated than the last. And to top it all off, Alba had even managed to prepare exotic delicacies such as parrot tongue stew and stuffed dormouse. Both dishes made you a bit nauseous, but the guests appeared to be devouring them quite happily.

“Sabina, take this out there at once!” Alba shouted, shoving a platter of shellfish into your hands.

Trying to avoid fumbling with the tray and spilling its contents all over your white tunic—Aurelia would surely beat you to within an inch of your life if you did so—you balanced it in your hands and set out swiftly towards the dining room, where the majority of the guests were sprawled across their dining couches, laughing lazily and exchanging the latest gossip with one another as they snapped their fingers at the slaves to refill their goblets.

You found yourself caught in a maze as you tried to duck around the Babylonian dancers Atticus had hired for the evening. Barely clothed, with little bells tied around their ankles and wrists, the women lithely writhed across the room, while their male counterparts kept rhythm with lyres, lutes, reed pipes, and drums. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man you had spilled wine on earlier fondling one of the dancers and you shuddered, hurrying as far in the other direction as you could.

Atticus and Aurelia sat enthroned in the center of the room, surrounded by sycophants who clearly wanted to remain in their good graces to ensure another invitation to a party as elaborate as this. You had been purposely avoiding their dining table all evening, terrified of your masters’ cold and calculated cruelty. You had already dealt with enough of Aurelia’s vicious abuse as you, Phoenix, and several others had attended to her earlier in the day, preparing her for tonight.

Ducking your head and attempting to make yourself as small as possible, you scurried past their dining couches and served your platter of shellfish to the guests who looked the least intimidating and the least likely to feel you up. On your way back to the kitchen to return your empty tray, you bumped into Phoenix, tucked away behind a large potted plant towards the back of the room.

“There you are!” you whispered, stepping in beside her. “I was wondering where you had gone off to.”

“I’m hiding,” Phoenix whispered back, pressing herself further up against the wall. “One of Atticus’ stupid friends, Decimus has been after me all night. I’m trying to avoid him until he can set his sights on someone else,” she sighed. It was the sad reality of how these things worked.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I spilled wine all over one of the guests after he grabbed my breast,” you told her, keeping your voice down to avoid being detected.

Phoenix snorted at that, her lips quirking up into a smile. “That’s my girl. By the gods, these men are pigs. And the thing that really gets me is that they truly think they’re some sort of Apollo or Ares. I mean, honestly. Have you ever seen such fat, disgusting slobs in all your life?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, covering your mouth with one hand as you peeked out at the crowd and took in the array of men lounging before your eyes. Phoenix was spot on in her assessment.

Sighing, you rested your head against the wall. Now that you had stopped for a moment, you realized just how exhausted you were. Your head was pounding, and your back and feet ached. And you could only imagine how much work would be involved in cleaning up once the banquet was over.

“Ugh, I wish they would all go home. How much longer do you think this will go on?” you asked, glancing over at your friend.

“Knowing Atticus and Aurelia? Probably until the early hours of the morning. Everyone will be rolling out of here and making their way to the Colosseum for the start of the games,” Phoenix groaned, looking exhausted herself as she rolled her shoulders backward. “Hopefully, we—”

Phoenix was cut off as Atticus suddenly rose to his feet in the middle of the room, clapping his hands to silence the music and the chattering guests around him.

“Friends, neighbors, esteemed guests,” Atticus began, his voice booming across the triclinium as he smiled smugly and gazed at the faces before him. “My beautiful wife and I are honored to host you in our home this evening for a humble celebration,” he said, holding out a hand towards a primping and preening Aurelia. As expected, the crowd tittered on cue at your master’s mention of his “humble” celebration. There was nothing humble about this loud and obnoxious show of wealth.

“As you all are aware, the summer games begin tomorrow,” Atticus went on, turning as he spoke so that he was encompassing the entire crowd in his speech. A cheer went up from the guests in anticipation of the blood they would get to see spilled in the arena. “And among those who will be headlining the fights tomorrow are my very own champions, my Pugiones!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch and volume as the energy of the crowd began to grow.

The guests around the room began chanting the names of their favorite gladiators from the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus, Gallus’ name being the foremost among them—or rather, “The Barbarian from Britannia.”

Atticus smirked, taking a pause for dramatic effect. The crowd held their breath, hanging on his every word. “As a special treat, and as a thank you for all your kind support, I thought that I might share with you a little preview of who you can look forward to seeing in the arena. I give you the champions of Rome. My Pugiones!” he shouted, raising a hand and drawing everyone’s attention to the entrance at the back of the triclinium.

Beside you, Phoenix gasped in horror. “No!” she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

Bile rose up your throat as you heard the people around you explode into thunderous applause at the sight of Atticus’ bodyguards bringing forward the stars of his ludus—the favored champions of Rome. Pollux was in the lead, followed closely by Felix, Caius, Carnifex, and Gallus taking up the rear.

You gasped in horrified shock when you saw that all five men were shackled like animals, their wrists and ankles in chains.

Atticus introduced them one by one as they were brought to the center of the room, put on display like the trinkets you’d been perusing at the marketplace. Tears filled your eyes as you looked at each one of them, these men who had come to mean so much to you. They stared straight ahead, a dark stoicism in their expressions. Gone was the laughter and the teasing and the stories of home. Gone were the men whose kindness had been so comforting to you as you cared for their broken bodies. They had slipped a mask into place, the mask of the cold, heartless gladiator, the killing machine whose only focus was to destroy, destroy, destroy, and all for the vainglory of Rome. There was a kind of death in their expressions—the death of everything that made them living, breathing men, the death of their humanity in the eyes of these people who would only love them so long as they were victorious, and who would forget about them the moment they were dragged through the Gate of Death.

You felt like you were going to vomit.

“Did they know?” you demanded, whirling around to face Phoenix, a furious rage bubbling up inside you. “Did they know Atticus was going to do this? Parade them through the banquet like this?”

Surely Gallus would have said something if he had known. Surely he never would have allowed this to—

“No,” Phoenix murmured faintly, tears pricking her own eyes as her gaze settled on Carnifex, who stood still as a stone as the guests began moving around him curiously, reaching out to touch him with greedy hands. “Oh, he’s such a bastard,” she whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

Like some kind of terrible carnage that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, you turned back over your shoulder to watch as Atticus and Aurelia’s guests circled the Pugiones like they were objects rather than men, there simply for their amusement and nothing more. They had no shame at all as they ran their hands over the men’s glistening muscles and commented openly on their forms and physiques. Each of them was wearing only a short loincloth that left very little to the imagination. You could only imagine how humiliated they all felt. Even Carnifex, who Phoenix had once claimed loved the adoration of the crowds, looked distinctly uncomfortable as he stood up straight and stared ahead, his eyes unblinking and unseeing.

When your gaze shifted beside him to Gallus, you felt as though someone had just kicked you in the chest. Your strong wolf—that fierce, loyal protector who had stolen your heart—looked so ashamed as he stood there, half-naked and on display. Even from where you stood, hidden away in the corner, you could see that his powerful hands were balled into fists and his jaw was clenched tightly, his golden brown eyes sparking with a rage that you had never witnessed before. The fools who stood around him, ogling and groping, had no idea that he would happily tear them to pieces if given the opportunity. Did they not understand that the chains and shackles were not merely for show?

Even Atticus was afraid of his men’s power.

“I can’t believe this,” you sobbed, clinging to Phoenix’s arm with your free hand, the empty shellfish tray still clutched in your other. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying until you felt the tears dripping off your chin and soaking the front of your tunic. “How can he do this?”

Phoenix was crying as well, the tears spilling forth from her dark eyes as she turned her head to look at you. There was a bitterness in her tone as she spat out, “He owns us. He can do whatever he wants.”

“There you two are!” came Alba’s angry voice as she suddenly invaded your hiding place. “You lazy sacks of bones, thinking you can just hide back here. Get your asses moving now. Back to the kitchen. You think all this food is going to serve itself?”

Swallowing back your tears, both you and Phoenix began running towards the kitchen, avoiding the old cook’s angry slaps. Wiping away the tears from each other’s cheeks, you picked up more platters of food—food that was too fine to ever cross your lips—and made your way back out to the dining room to wait on people who didn’t deserve even an ounce of your respect.

Just like Gallus and the others, this was your life and there was nothing you could do about it.

He should have known. He should have known that Atticus was going to pull some kind of stunt like this. When he had ordered an early end to their training that afternoon, Gallus had figured that perhaps it was just because his guests would be arriving soon, and he wanted the gladiators out of sight.

How stupid he had been to think that.

He knew something was off when word came that the Pugiones were to be sent to the bathhouse and scrubbed from head to toe. And when he returned to his cell and found nothing but a small loincloth lying on his bed, he knew exactly what that something was.

Shackled and bound like some kind of beast—like the barbarian they all believed him to be—he was led into the sparkling villa where he was hardly ever allowed to step foot and put on display like some sort of circus attraction.

He could feel the humiliation rolling off his fellow Pugiones in waves, the shame of it palpable as they were forced to stand stock-still and silently accept the grubby hands and lascivious eyes of those bastard Romans. If one more giggling matron batted her lashes at him as she groped his thigh, he was certain he was going to break free of his chains and strangle every last one of them.

He thought that his shame could not get any greater, but then he saw you and he could feel his blood boiling inside his veins as his mortification grew all the worse.

You were standing just a few yards away, offering stuffed dates to a group of fat old men, but your eyes were fixed on him, a pain in them that he couldn’t bear to see.

You had never looked so beautiful. With your hair pulled away from your face and that pure white tunic hugging every one of your curves, you looked like a goddess come down to earth in human form. You were the most stunning woman he had ever beheld.

And you were watching him being fondled like a slab of meat.

He felt the rage building inside him, the same uncontrollable rage that filled him whenever he was released into the arena and forced to kill for sport for the entertainment of his captors.

He hated them. He hated them. Atticus. Aurelia. All the guests gathered at this ridiculous banquet. He hated them all with a burning fury that seared painfully through his chest. If he could, he would destroy them all. He would destroy each and every one of them, if only to see you set free from this life of unending servitude. He thought of the marks and bruises that littered your body, signs of the brutality of the miserable witch who controlled this home. He would burn it to the ground, with her inside, if he could.

If only he could.

His eyes followed you, tracking your every movement as you made your way around the triclinium, at the beck and call of these spoiled patricians. Phoenix had often complained of how handsy the guests could get, and he was determined to watch out for you, even from this perch from which he could not escape.

Exchanging your empty platter for an amphora of wine, your attention was drawn to a group of men who were snapping their fingers at you, holding their goblets up in the air like spoiled children.

Gallus’ eyes narrowed and he could feel his fists balling up more tightly as you moved towards the sniggering group of Rome’s supposed elite. He noted the way you attempted to smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were uncomfortable. Nervous, even. He could tell from the rigid lines of your body, the way you were holding the amphora so stiffly in your hands. As you bent forward to fill one man’s goblet, another one reached behind you and smacked your behind, the sound of it ringing in Gallus’ ears despite the noise of the crowd around him.

The rest of them laughed as you frowned and tried to move away, a second man grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you towards his lap, while a third reached for your breasts.

The white-hot rage that had been simmering deep inside him came to a boiling point at that moment, and he could no longer stand by quietly. It was one thing for them to treat him like this, but he would not allow you to be handled so carelessly and disrespectfully.

Releasing a roar from deep within his soul, Gallus shoved at the people who were crowded around him, knocking them to the ground as they gasped and cried out in shocked horror. Though the shackles around his ankles gave him limited range of movement, determination alone moved him in the direction of the men who had dared to put their hands on you.

He could hear Pollux, Felix, Caius, and Carnifex calling out to him, but he blocked out their warnings, too focused on unleashing the ferocity of his wrath on those who had wronged you.

When they realized that “The Barbarian from Britannia” was barreling straight towards them, the men grew pale with fright and immediately released you, giving you an opportunity to run from them. But you only made it a few feet, staring with wide eyes as he made his way toward them. He could sense your fear, but he couldn’t control himself. They needed to be taught a lesson.

With his wrists chained together, Gallus couldn’t do much more than swipe his hands across their dining table, spilling their expensive wine and exotic dinner all over their laps and the floor. If they wanted a barbarian, then that’s what he would give them. He bared his teeth as he glared at them, enough hatred and savagery contained in that one look to send the men scrambling off their dining couches and cowering in fear.

The room was filled with the terrified shrieks of women and the angry shouts of men, no one quite certain what the barbarian was going to do next.

“ENOUGH!” Atticus bellowed, his voice slicing through the thick tension as a hush fell over the dining hall.

Even Gallus stilled in his movements, his chest heaving violently as he glowered down at the Romans at his feet.

“How did you all enjoy that little display of the Barbarian’s power, huh?” Atticus grinned, his business acumen clear as he quickly found a way to work this disastrous turn of events in his favor.

A few people let out some nervous titters, whispering and glancing at one another as their host’s words washed over them. Had this been planned?

Picking his way across the wreckage of the room, Atticus approached Gallus and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pinching his skin violently. But to the crowd, he still looked as calm and relaxed as ever, a serene smile pasted onto his face. “Decimus, you should have seen your face,” he chuckled, looking down at the man who had grabbed your breasts. “You looked like you were going to wet yourself when Gallus here came lunging at you.”

Decimus chuckled as well, though the older man was clearly mortified. “You truly had me for a moment there, Barbarian. I really thought you were going to tear my head off.”

If only I could, Gallus thought bitterly.

Aurelia began laughing as well, clapping her hands and acting as though this had all been a part of her elaborate plans. “Isn’t he an absolute delight? Truly, the finest specimen of fighter that the Colosseum has to offer. And that is why Emperor Domitian has personally asked my husband to ensure that ‘The Barbarian from Britannia’ is the main attraction at tomorrow’s opening games. Which you all will be attending, of course?” she asked, turning her sharp eyes onto her guests.

“Yes! Yes!” they all began shouting, laughter and applause replacing the screams and shouts as the idiotic crowd lapped up the lies that Atticus and Aurelia fed them.

Gallus stood still, still vibrating with rage, even as Atticus continued to dig his manicured nails into his shoulder.

“Just you wait until I get you out of here, you fucking savage,” Atticus muttered through gritted teeth, his fury palpable as he turned his dark eyes on his champion fighter.

Turning back to the crowd, Atticus smiled and waved to them with his free hand. “Ah, yes, well the champions do need their rest if they’re expected to be at their best tomorrow. As my wife pointed out, they will be headlining the opening games, at the personal request of Emperor Domitian, so you’ll see them all again very soon. I’ll just return them to the ludus and be back momentarily. Please, continue feasting and enjoy. Music!” he called out, snapping his fingers at the Babylonian musicians, who looked more than a little traumatized by the night’s turn of events. They hastened to lift their instruments and began playing a lively tune, the mood of the banquet shifting to one of joviality once more.

Silently signaling his bodyguards, Atticus gripped Gallus more tightly around the neck and began pulling him out of the dining room, in the direction of his office. When the others appeared, he stopped in his tracks and snapped, “Lucius, you come with me. The rest of you, get them back to the ludus and lock them in their cells.”

Carnifex, Caius, Pollux, and Felix shot worried looks in Gallus’ direction, but they had no choice but to follow their master’s bodyguards as they were dragged back towards the barracks.

Gallus took a deep breath as Atticus dragged him towards his tablinum, his largest bodyguard trailing behind. He could only imagine the punishment that awaited him. But he didn’t care. He didn’t regret a single thing he had done tonight. The only thing he wished he could do was wipe away the worried look he’d seen on your face as he’d been pulled out of the dining room.

Kicking open the door to his office, Atticus shoved Gallus inside roughly. He certainly was no match for the Briton in terms of size or strength, but he was solidly built in his own right and not a weakling by any means.

“Close the door, Lucius,” Atticus snarled, his bodyguard silently following directions. Despite the clever performance he had put on for his guests, Atticus was clearly enraged. Gallus wasn’t sure the last time he had seen him this angry.

After receiving an almost imperceptible nod from his master, the silent, hulking Lucius gave a swift kick to the back of Gallus’ knees, causing him to fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.

Now that he was on his knees, with his ankles and wrists still shackled, Atticus bent forward and grabbed a fistful of his hair, snapping his head backward so that he was looking up at him. “What the fuck was that?” he growled, digging his fingers even deeper into Gallus’ scalp. “Hm? What the fuck was that, you fucking barbarian pig?!”

Gallus remained silent, staring his master in the eye without offering a word of response.

“You fucking savage!” Atticus roared, hitting him hard across the face. “You think you can humiliate me like that? Attack my guests like that?”

Gallus blinked, the force of Atticus’ slap making his ears ring, but he refused to react or to satisfy his owner with an answer.

“I think you’re forgetting that I fucking own you!” Atticus exploded, a bit of spittle forming at the corners of his mouth as his face turned practically purple with rage. “I fucking own you, I fucking own all of them! All your little friends! Including that little fucking slut you were trying to defend!”

Though he tried to hide it, Gallus’ spine stiffened at Atticus’ reference to you. And for the first time, he felt regret sink like a stone inside his chest. He wasn’t afraid of what Atticus would do to him. But he was afraid of what Atticus would do to you. What had he been thinking? Atticus had already made his veiled threats when he’d offered to give you to him as a concubine. There was no telling where his calculated brutality would end.

“Don’t try to hide it, you stinking barbarian. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know what goes on in my own household?” Atticus demanded, hitting him again for good measure.

Swallowing blood, Gallus bit back a retort that was on the tip of his tongue about how clearly Atticus was stupid enough to be unaware of what was going on in his wife’s bedroom. Instead, he just glared viciously at the other man.

“I see the way you look at her. I know what she means to you,” he went on, smirking cruelly. “Perhaps I should punish her for the little stunt you pulled tonight,” he murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“No!” Gallus grunted, surging forward. His skin grew cold at the reptilian smile that spread across his master’s face.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” Atticus nodded, tapping his fingers on his desk as he stared down at Gallus. He was quiet for several moments before he suddenly lunged forward and smacked Gallus in the face for the third time, catching him off guard. The rage had returned to his eyes as he grabbed him by the hair once more, shaking him for good measure. “I should have her beaten within an inch of her fucking life and force you to watch!” he bellowed, the smell of wine and fish on his breath. “And I could do it, too. You know why? Because I fucking own her! She is my property and I can do whatever the fuck I like with her.”

Gallus seethed silently, his heartbeat racing inside his chest. If only he could break the shackles that kept him bound. He would kill Atticus without an ounce of regret.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Gallus, the next time you think about stepping out of line and pulling a move like the one you pulled tonight. If I ever see you doing anything—anything—like what you did this evening, I will beat her until she can hardly walk and then I will sell her to the nearest brothel I can find. Do I make myself clear? Do I?” he screamed, tugging roughly on his hair.

“Yes, Dominus,” Gallus spat out, digging his nails into his thighs to keep from clawing at his master’s throat.

Atticus let go of him and stepped back in disgust, wiping his hands on the front of his toga. “If you didn’t make me so much money, I’d sell you to the galleys. Get him the fuck out of my sight,” he hissed, glaring at Lucius, who had been quietly standing against the wall. “Take him back to his cell. Now.”

Dragging Gallus to his feet, Lucius wordlessly pulled him from the room and escorted him across the grounds, back to the gladiator barracks.

Both men walked in silence.

For the next few hours, Gallus lay in his bed, staring blankly at the wall and replaying Atticus’ threats over and over again in his mind. He felt like he was going to be sick. All he had wanted to do was defend and protect you, and instead he had put you in even greater danger. His affection for you had put a target on your back, and now your safety was at risk.

He knew that he should try to get some sleep, especially with the games beginning tomorrow. But he couldn’t even close his eyes. Every time he did, he just imagined Atticus and his bodyguards beating you as you begged for mercy and cried out for help.

He had known all along that he didn’t deserve someone as good as you in his life. All he did was maim and kill and destroy. He was good for nothing but death. And now you had been swept up in his wake of destruction. He would never forgive himself for that. Never.

At the sudden sound of timid knocking on his cell door, Gallus sat straight up in bed and stared into the darkness. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe it was just the rustling of the wind. But when it sounded again, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and rose to his full height, reaching to light the small candle that sat on the table in his room.

“Who is it?” he demanded gruffly, pressing his ear against the door and listening for any sounds on the other side.

“It’s Sabina,” came your soft whisper, a tremor in your voice as you announced yourself.

Eyes widening, he immediately opened the door, letting out a soft huff of surprise as you flung yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

Wrapping one arm around you, he used the other to shut the door firmly and then drew you further into his small cell. He could feel that you were trembling and, if the dampness on his skin was any indication, crying.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and gentle even as he felt frantic fear bubble up inside him. “It’s not safe, not at this time of night.”

“Are you okay?” you sobbed, lifting your head to look up at him. His heart broke at the sight of the tears in those wide, innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. “I was so afraid. After everything that happened at the banquet—and when Atticus pulled you out—I just—”

“Sh, sh, I’m okay,” he assured you softly, reaching up to lightly caress your wet cheek. He was glad that the room was shrouded in shadows, even with the candle, so that you couldn’t see the marks Atticus’ fist had left on his face. “I make him too much money for him to punish me too severely,” he tried to joke, even as his heart constricted.

In response, you buried your face back in his chest, clinging to him desperately. “You shouldn’t have done that, Gallus! All those people! Do you know what they could have done to you?”

“Hey,” he murmured, cupping your chin in his hand and lifting your face so that you were looking him in the eye. “I don’t care what they think, or what they can do to me. I wasn’t going to let those men get away with treating you like that,” he insisted firmly, peering deeply into your eyes so that you could feel his conviction.

Your beautiful face crumbled as more tears began spilling forth. “I can’t believe what they did to you and the others. How you had to just stand there while those people—”

“Don’t cry. Oh, please don’t cry,” he begged, holding your face in his hands and thumbing away your tears. “Not for me.”

Sniffling softly, you looked into his eyes as you told him, “You deserve to have someone cry for you.”

In that moment, he felt his heart split open inside his chest. For so long, he had been so certain that anything good left within him had been wiped out, decimated in the name of Rome. He had become convinced that he was incapable of love, of any soft feeling whatsoever. There were people in his life that he cared about—Phoenix, Hrodebert, and the Pugiones, for example—but he hadn’t believed himself capable of truly giving his heart to another person. How could he give what he didn’t have?

And then you came along. You, with your softness and your goodness and your innocence and your light. You, with the peace he had been longing for for so long. You were everything he had ever wanted, but had never dared to hope for.

Cradling your delicate face in his hands, he brushed his thumb against your soft lips, wondering not for the first time what they would taste like. Sweeter than honey, he was sure of it.

At the sound of the soft whimper escaping your lips, his eyes flew to yours and the breath was knocked out of his lungs at the sight of the longing in your expression. Was it possible? Could you really long for him the same way he longed for you?

Could you really love him the way he loved you?

When you leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering closed, he felt frozen. Did you want him to kiss you? He stared down at you, savoring the feel of your perfect lips beneath his calloused thumb.

It took his breath away, your innocence and your trust in him. Everyone else saw him as a barbarian, as a savage animal who was to be feared and avoided, not loved and cherished. But here you were, risking your own safety to come check on him in the middle of the night. Offering those perfect lips to him, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt you.

As he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours, Atticus’ words came flooding back to him in startling clarity,

I fucking own her!

She is my property.

I will beat her until she can hardly walk and then I will sell her to the nearest brothel I can find.

Gasping, Gallus pulled back and looked down at you in horror. What was he thinking? He couldn’t kiss you. He couldn’t love you. To do so would just be to put you in more danger than ever before.

If he truly wanted to keep you safe, he had to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at him in confusion and he felt what was left of his heart shatter to pieces.

Removing his hand from your face and taking a step backwards, Gallus stared at a point just over your shoulder as he told you, “I think you should go.”

The pain and humiliation on your face were too much for him to bear, and so he turned away from you, fighting like hell against the agony that was burning inside him. “Please, Sabina. Just go.”

He waited until he heard you turn and flee his cell, your footsteps receding into nothingness, before he turned and slammed the door of his cell shut, pounding on it with vicious fists until he felt the blood seeping between his knuckles.

“FUCK!” he screamed, lifting a stool and throwing it across the room, shattering it on the opposite wall.

He had never felt so trapped in all his life. He wanted you more than anything else in this world, but he knew that the only way to keep you safe from Atticus’ vile clutches was to distance himself from you as much as possible.

But how could he live without you? Now that he had you in his life, he didn’t know how to go on without you.

“FUCK!” he bellowed again, his chest heaving as he let loose all his pent up rage. He searched for something else to throw, something else to smash in his wild frenzy. Reaching out blindly, he picked up the nearest object he could find and was about to hurl it against the wall when he suddenly realized what it was he was holding.

His vision clearing, Gallus stared down at the small carving of a wolf and a dove, the carving made from the oak trees of his homeland. The carving you had gifted him, the one sign he had to cling to that there was someone in this world who cared about him, someone who saw him as more than just a barbarian.

Clutching the carving to his chest, Gallus fell to his knees and began to weep in earnest, the pain he’d been carrying inside for decades spilling forth as he sobbed into the night, alone as always.

Without you, he had nothing left worth fighting for.

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