#si vis amari ama ⚔️

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Si Vis Amari Ama

VIII. Let the Games Begin

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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: I apologize that it's taken me so long to update! I've been having a hard time finding the motivation to write as of late, but this story remains very near and dear to my heart and I'm grateful that I've had the inspiration to work on it these past few days. Thank you for bearing with me! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 13k+

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, allusions to unwanted sexual advances, gladiatorial combat, violence, blood, death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

He could feel the thunderous roar of the crowd pounding in his skull, a searing pain that pulsed behind his closed eyelids, rivaled only by the throbbing ache in his shoulder. The stamping feet of tens of thousands of spectators shook his bones and thrummed in his bloodstream, the energy of his captive audience rising and growing like a living beast. He could sense it burrowing just beneath the surface of his skin, engulfing his body in flames—the same Roman flames that had stolen his mother away from him and destroyed the only true home he had ever known.

And yet, for all that his body felt as though it was wrapped in fire, he found himself unable to move. Unable to lift the arm that held the sword they’d so foolishly placed in his hand. Unable to open his eyes and gaze upon the crazed, bloodthirsty faces of the people he hated so much. Unable to do anything except succumb to the pounding that vibrated through him, rattling him to his core and robbing him of any shred of peace. But when had he ever known peace?

Swallowing deeply, he realized just how dry his mouth was—drier than the sands of the arena itself. And on his tongue, he could taste nothing more than salt and ashes.

But that pounding. When would it cease? He couldn’t even raise his hands to his ears to block it out, not in his frozen state. When would he be free of it? When would he ever be free?

Just as he felt ready to open his mouth in a silent scream, he suddenly heard a faint sound in the distance, so small and gentle that he could scarcely make it out over the throbbing in his head. But then it came closer, so close that he almost felt it brushing against his cheek in a delicate caress. It was the flutter of dainty wings, like those of a dove.

His little dove.

The longing in his chest at that sweet sound was enough to propel him forward, to unlock him from the invisible chains that kept him bound and let loose the strong limbs that had been held captive in his mind.

“Sabina!” Gallus cried out, sitting up suddenly and reaching out—but grasping nothing.

Blinking painfully against the early morning light that filtered into his cell, he turned his head slowly and let out a grunt of pain at the stiffness in his shoulder.

As he blinked slowly a few more times and shook his head to clear the fog from his mind, Gallus took stock of his surroundings and remembered where he was. He wasn’t in the arena at all, but on the hard packed earthen floor of his cell, where he’d evidently fallen into an unhappy sleep after the overwhelming events of the previous night. Glancing downward, he realized that he was still clutching the carving you’d gifted him in one hand, the oak wood leaving a firm impression against his scarred palm.

And that’s when it all came flooding back—the banquet, the way those filthy men had dared to put their hands on you, Atticus’ threats, the tears you had shed for him. He closed his eyes against the memory of your confusion and pain when he’d thrown you out of this very cell, everything he’d ever wanted slipping through his fingers because it was the only way he knew how to keep you safe.

His own broken heart was a price he was willing to pay to ensure that no harm befell you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Shuddering, Gallus swallowed deeply and realized he could still taste the salt from his dream. Had it been a dream at all? Or was it just the taste of the fruitless tears he’d shed until exhaustion had finally claimed him sometime before dawn?

Rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders, his ears perked up when he registered the fact that the taste of salt wasn’t the only thing he’d carried over from his dreams. The pounding that had haunted him persisted, though he quickly became aware that it wasn’t the wild stampeding of the crowd, but a fist pummeling his door with single-minded determination.

Groaning under his breath, he felt his bones creak and could hear his joints pop as he slowly rose from the floor, setting the carving down on his small table before gingerly stepping towards the door, apprehensive about who he would find on the other side.

He was only mildly surprised to see an irate Phoenix standing on the threshold of his cell.

“What did you do?” she hissed, shoving one hard finger into his chest as she forced her way into his room without invitation.

Gallus had seen Phoenix this angry before, but it had never been directed at him. It was usually their masters who garnered this much fury from his raven-haired friend. Sighing deeply, he closed the door behind her, quickly glancing from side to side to make sure no one had observed her arrival.

“Phoenix, listen—”

“Don’t you, ‘Phoenix, listen’ me!” she growled, crossing her arms over her chest and planting herself in the center of the room, glaring up at him. She looked immovable, a fierce force of nature the likes of which even a seasoned gladiator might hesitate to go up against. He would be proud of her if it weren’t for the fact that he was also mildly terrified.

“What did you do?” she demanded, repeating her question from when she’d first arrived. “Do you know Sabina came back to the villa in tears last night? I could barely get her to speak at first. I thought for sure something terrible had happened to her, that one of Atticus’ disgusting friends had—” She shook her head, clearly unable to even finish speaking the thought aloud.

Gallus was glad for that, for he suddenly felt bile rising in his throat at the mere thought of any man laying his hands on you against your will. He would kill anyone who tried.

“Phoenix,” he began again, the pitiful remains of his heart breaking at the vision her words conjured up, the idea of your tears too much for him to bear.

“How could you do that to her, Gallus? How?” Phoenix pressed, her cheeks growing red from her mounting frustration. “Do you have any idea how humiliated she is? How ashamed? She said she doesn’t even know how she can return to the ludus again, how she could ever face you after last night. She took a chance, opening herself up to you like that, and you just threw her away. How could you do that?!”

“Phoenix, there are things you don’t understand,” he replied, trying to hide the panic that stirred in his chest at the thought of you never returning to the ludus, of never getting to see you again.

“Then make me understand!” she exploded, lunging forward and shoving at him with both hands, causing him to lose his footing and stumble back a step or two. “Because I know that you care for Sabina, Gallus! I know you, and I know that you have never felt for anybody what you feel for her! So make me understand how you could reject her and break her heart when she offered it to you on a golden platter.” 

Her last words were spoken so quietly, yet seemed to steal all the air out of the room.

“Atticus knows,” Gallus told her flatly, his expression as stoic as ever in an attempt to mask the turmoil that was roiling inside him.

“What?” Phoenix gasped, taking a step back as her mouth fell open in shock, some of the rigidity melting away from her posture.

“He knows what Sabina means to me. You know him, Phoenix. You know what a wily bastard he is,” he went on, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “He figured it out even before the banquet. He tried to offer Sabina to me as a—a concubine,” he confessed, swallowing back the distaste that burned in the back of his throat.

Phoenix’s dark eyes widened, her fingers instinctively curling into fists at the thought of Atticus thinking he could turn you out like some kind of whore. What was worse was knowing that he could, and that he could do the same to her on a whim. Not only would neither of you ever be free, but you would never be safe either, not in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus.

“I knew he was testing me. After all this time, Atticus knows that I want nothing to do with the women he tries to force into my bed. But I still fell into his trap anyway. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him talk about her like that. I couldn’t let him threaten to hurt her,” Gallus murmured, hanging his head in shame that he hadn’t been smart enough to protect you right from the start. “And then last night at the banquet—I couldn’t let those pigs get away with treating her like that. I would do it again, no matter what Atticus did to me.”

“What did Atticus do to you?” Phoenix asked, her voice softer this time as she stepped closer to her oldest friend, reaching up and brushing a gentle hand against the bruise forming just beneath his eye.

He turned his face away, his jaw ticking as Atticus’ words from last night flooded back into his mind. “It doesn’t matter what he did to me. I can take his abuse. He’s not as strong as he likes to think he is,” he muttered, trying not to think about the pain that had exploded beneath his eye when their master’s signet ring had collided with his cheek.

Phoenix was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she stared up at him and waited for him to turn back and meet her eye. “But that wasn’t all he did, was it?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

Gallus shook his head miserably, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from her and lowered himself down on the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands. He remained silent, even as the bed dipped beside him and he felt one of Phoenix’s cool, soothing hands come to rest on his back in a comforting fashion.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, feeling the torment that hovered above him like a storm cloud as keenly as a summer rain soaking her skin. “What did Atticus do?”

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, it was with an expression so broken that he didn’t know how he had managed to make it this far without crumbling to pieces on the floor. “He threatened to hurt her, Phoenix. He threatened to hurt Sabina.”

She knew what his response would be before he even uttered the words, but the reality of the situation still slapped her in the face anyway, more brutal than even Aurelia’s abuse. Phoenix bit back the sob she felt rising in her throat, giving Gallus the space he needed to continue speaking.

“He reminded me that she is his property,” he spat out bitterly, digging his fingernails into his thighs and not even registering the pain. “That Sabina is his to do with as he pleases, and that if I ever dare to step out of line again or go against him in any way, he’ll beat her within an inch of her life and make me watch,” he continued, his voice catching despite himself.

“Oh, Gallus!” Phoenix cried out, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face against his shoulder to try to mask her own tears.

“You would think it couldn’t get any worse than that, but remember that this is Atticus we’re talking about,” he went on, his utter hatred for his master evident in the way he practically snarled his name. “He also threatened to sell Sabina to the nearest brothel he could find.” His voice grew cold as he repeated Atticus’ threat from last night. He would burn Rome herself to the ground before he allowed that to happen to you.

Phoenix let out a soft gasp, horrified at the mere thought of such a cruel fate befalling you. You were too gentle, too good, too pure. You would never survive a punishment such as that.

“So you see? She’s in danger, Phoenix, and it’s all because of me,” he said miserably, the wounds in his heart being torn open anew as he contemplated the truth that his love and affection for you were what had put a target on your back.

“Hey,” Phoenix replied instantly, sliding off his bed and rising to stand in front of him, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders. “Hey, look at me,” she demanded, waiting until Gallus slowly lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. Setting her face like stone, she told him, “Sabina is not in danger because of you. Any danger she may be in is because of Atticus and his sick, twisted mind. Do you hear me?” She shook his shoulders slightly, as if to emphasize her question.

“Atticus would never have set his sights on her if it weren’t for me. He’s doing this to torment me, Phoenix. So it is my fault,” he argued, shrugging her hands off his shoulders irritably and rising as well, pacing around his cell like a caged lion—or a wolf, as you had so aptly described him. “That’s why I need to keep Sabina as far away from me as possible. If there’s nothing between us, then Atticus has no reason to harm her,” he rationalized, trying to convince himself as much as Phoenix.

To his surprise, Phoenix scoffed in response, crossing her arms once more. “Oh, how noble of you.”

He stared at her, taken aback. “Phoenix—”

“So you think that denying Sabina—denying yourself—any scrap of happiness you might possibly be able to cling to in this miserable place is the right thing to do? Breaking her heart and making her believe you care nothing for her is the best course of action?” Her voice started to rise slightly as her temper grew hotter. “You do realize that we’re all slaves, right? We will always be at the mercy of Atticus and Aurelia and their capricious moods! Who’s to say that Atticus wouldn’t find some other reason to torment Sabina that had nothing to do with you? We both know full well that Aurelia takes great pleasure in making her life a misery. What’s to stop her husband from doing the same? But where she might at least have been able to find a moment’s comfort in your arms, now she’s left feeling even more alone than ever before! Did you think of that when you were trying to play the martyr? Did you?”

Gallus turned away from Phoenix’s barrage of words, overcome by the sense in them and not wanting to face it. She was right, and he knew it. It was nothing but foolishness that would have made him believe he had any sort of power to protect you. That was what was so maddening about all of this. No matter what he did, he could never truly ensure your safety. The reality of it was enough to drive him to insanity.

“Why didn’t you tell Sabina the truth?” Phoenix further pressed him, not letting him off the hook and not allowing him a moment to breathe. “She’s not a child, Gallus. You could have explained to her what was really going on. Don’t you trust her?”

“Of course I do!” he exploded, dragging his hands down his face and trembling with the desire to smash his other stool against the wall, the way he had done to its twin last night. “Of course I trust her! But I wanted to protect her! I wanted to shield her from whatever savagery I could. She’s already experienced so much evil. Why cause her any more heartache if I could avoid it? Why make her live in fear every day?”

“But you didn’t let her make that choice for herself! You took it upon yourself to make it for her!” she snapped back. “So what makes you any different than Atticus or any other master she’s ever had?”

His blood ran cold at her words. It was true. What did make him any better than any other man who had claimed you as his property? For as long as you had been enslaved, your life had not been your own. There was no decision that you were free to make for yourself. Save one, perhaps—no one could truly tell you who to love. But Gallus had taken that freedom from you as well. He had denied you the chance to choose him, to decide that you were willing to pursue whatever this thing was between the two of you, no matter the risk. He had determined that he knew better, and he had broken your heart in the process.

How could he ever hope for you to forgive him?

“What have I done?” he groaned, stumbling towards the table pressed up against his wall and spreading his large hands out to catch himself. His head hung low and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if by doing so he could shut out the catastrophe he had created.

“There’s still time to fix it,” Phoenix reassured him, moving beside him and resting a hand on his arm. She paused a moment before saying, “The games begin today.” He didn’t fail to notice the fear in her eyes as she uttered those words. “You need to have a clear head when you’re fighting in the arena. You have to speak to Sabina and make things right with her before you go.”

“She won’t want to see me,” Gallus said quietly, staring at the carving that sat atop the table. Your gift seemed to silently taunt him, to remind him of all that could have been his, had he not so foolishly thrown it all away. He wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again. He had hurt you badly. He had never deserved you to begin with. “You said it yourself, she doesn’t ever want to step foot in the ludus again.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Sabina,” Phoenix insisted, looking newly determined. “I’ll make sure she gets here before you all leave for the games. Just make sure you tell her the truth.”

As she spun around to leave, her dark braid nearly whipping him in the face, Gallus reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could go. “Phoenix?”

She turned to look up at him expectantly.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, squeezing her hand. He had never been very good at voicing his feelings aloud or expressing himself, but he hoped she knew how much he treasured her friendship, and all the ways he was grateful for her.

As if reading his thoughts, Phoenix beamed up at him. “Hey, what are friends for?”

Before he could stop her a second time, she was out the door in a flash, looking eager as ever to complete this new mission she’d assigned herself. He knew that if Phoenix had set her mind to bringing you here, she would find a way to make it happen. But the thought filled him with nerves greater than those that normally assailed him on the day of an appearance in the Colosseum.

What would he say to you? How could he make you understand? Would you even want to listen to him? Would you want anything to do with him after how he had treated you last night?

Knowing it was a poor idea to just pace in his cell for hours, awaiting your arrival, he dropped down to the ground and began a series of push-ups, trying to clear his mind of everything beyond his impending fight this afternoon. After all, it wouldn’t matter much if you forgave him if he was dead before sundown.

Gritting his teeth, sweat pouring off his face, Gallus pulsed his strong body up and down, up and down, up and down, your face the only thing he could conjure up in his mind’s eye.

You couldn’t believe Phoenix had convinced you to do this.

All of last night, and well into the early hours of the morning, your eyes had poured out an ocean of sorrow, your heart aching with the pain and humiliation of Gallus’ rejection. You’d hardly slept at all, and it showed in your puffy, red-rimmed gaze.

You hadn’t gone to Gallus’ cell last night with the intention of throwing yourself into his arms like some lovesick puppy. You truly had been afraid for him when Atticus dragged him out of the banquet after the scene he’d made, and you just wanted to check on him and make sure he was safe. But there was something about the way he held you, the roughness of his demeanor belying the gentleness of his fingers as he brushed away your tears. And when he ran that calloused thumb across your lips, you thought you might truly melt into a puddle at his feet. There was something in his eyes, something in his touch, something in the way the very air between the two of you crackled with the heat of a summer storm. You had been so sure that he felt it, too, that thing that existed between the two of you that you could not name. So you’d taken a chance and opened yourself up to him in a way you had never done before. Everything you had to offer—your mind, your body, your heart—they were all his for the taking.

But you were wrong. Gallus didn’t want you. That’s why he’d told you to leave. He was probably embarrassed for you, the mousy little slave girl who thought Rome’s champion would actually want her. He could have any woman he wanted—the most beautiful courtesans in Rome would fall at his feet. What would he want with you?

That’s why you hadn’t argued or tried to plead your case when he’d tossed you out of his cell last night. Attempting to piece together the shredded remains of your dignity, you’d simply turned and fled into the night, barely making it out of the ludus before the tears started to fall.

Phoenix had been out of her mind with worry when you finally returned to the female slave quarters, her dark eyes wild with fright when she caught sight of your disheveled, hysterical state. It took a few moments and several deep breaths before you were finally able to assure her that none of Atticus’ guests had accosted you. But when you eventually were able to explain to her the real cause of your tears, embarrassment and shame tingeing every word you whispered, her worry turned to shock, which was quickly replaced by anger.

“He’s an idiot!” she seethed, wrapping her arms around you and stroking your back as you continued to cry. “I’ll talk some sense into him.”

“Phoenix, no!” you gasped, practically choking on your tears as you tried to keep your voice down. “That will only be even more humiliating! He doesn’t want me, don’t you see? We’ll just leave it at that. Oh, but how am I ever supposed to return to the ludus after this?” you whimpered, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so ashamed!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Phoenix told you sternly, pulling your hands away from your face. “I’m the one who should be ashamed for calling such a fool my friend. There has to be an explanation for his behavior, Sabina. Trust me,” she said, brushing your tears away with her fingertips.

Not wanting to prolong the conversation, you just curled up on your sleeping mat and closed your eyes, although the tears just kept spilling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt at the corners of your mouth.

You must have slept a little bit, because when you awoke just as the first hints of dawn were beginning to break through the small window in your quarters, you rolled over and found that Phoenix was already up and gone. Your stomach sank sharply. You truly hoped she wasn’t off to talk to Gallus as she had threatened.

With the villa already a flurry of activity, you didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Rising and dressing quickly, you grabbed a piece of stale bread from the kitchen before you set about cleaning up the evidence of your masters’ disastrous banquet. Most guests hadn’t left until the early hours of the morning, and in the bright light of day, it became apparent just how much carousing and revelry had gone on the night before.

Atticus and Aurelia seemed to be sleeping off their hangovers, which at least meant that you and the other household slaves could go about your chores in peace, for a few hours anyway. You spent most of the early morning helping clean the gardens, which had apparently been the chosen destination for more than a few rendezvous last night. By the time Phoenix found you, you were on your hands and knees, scrubbing the mosaic tiles of the fountain Dominus had just installed a month ago. It was of the Roman hero Hercules, and you suddenly found yourself unable to look at it. Just a few weeks earlier, you had smiled to yourself, thinking how much it resembled Gallus.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Phoenix exclaimed, dropping down to her knees beside you and grabbing a spare rag so that she could help you.

“It’s been a busy morning,” you murmured softly, turning your face slightly to try to hide your puffy eyes from your friend.

Phoenix, however, was no fool. Reaching out, she rested one hand on your shoulder and waited until you finally looked at her. “I spoke to Gallus.”

“Phoenix!”

“I had to! If nothing else, he deserved a good tongue lashing for the way he treated you last night,” she replied stubbornly, returning to her task and scrubbing at a particularly pesky stain.

When she said nothing else, your curiosity got the best of you and you bit your tongue before asking, “And? What happened?”

“Ah, so you do care,” Phoenix winked, her eyes twinkling as she nudged you teasingly.

“Phoenix!”

“Alright, alright,” she said, throwing up her hands in surrender. “As I suspected, he had his reasons for doing what he did last night. I don’t necessarily agree with them, and I told him so, but I promise you that his intentions were good.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, but you tamped down foolish hope before it had a chance to grow wings.

“What were they?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though you both knew you were anything but.

Phoenix shook her head, which caused your pulse to quicken nervously. “He has to be the one to tell you that, Sabina. He assured me that he would.”

“But, Phoenix!” you argued, running a clammy hand down your face. “I—I can’t! I can’t go back there and face him, not after everything—”

“Sabina,” Phoenix interrupted, pulling your hand away from your face and squeezing it tightly. “He’s going to be leaving in a few hours for the Colosseum. This may very well be—well—you don’t know what the Fates have in store,” she said, her voice much more subdued and her expression suddenly downcast. “You don’t want to have any regrets that you didn’t set things right between the two of you before he goes. Trust me. Just go talk to him. Please.”

As terrified as you were about the prospect of facing Gallus again after all that had transpired, you were even more terrified at the prospect of letting him leave without saying goodbye, knowing that it was possible you would never set eyes on him again in the land of the living. The thought alone made you feel ill.

So that was how, once the gardens and the fountains were cleaned, you had somehow ended up trailing behind Phoenix on your way to the ludus once more.

Neither of you spoke as you walked behind your friend, nervously twisting your sweaty palms in the folds of your tunic. You hadn’t felt this afraid to enter the gladiator training grounds since that first day that Titus had asked you to assist him. The day you met Gallus for the first time.

As you came closer to the training arenas, you realized that the ludus was a hive of activity. With it being the first day of the summer games, everyone was in a frantic rush to get everything ready for the transport to the Colosseum. You and Phoenix were able to slip by most of the men without attracting any sort of attention.

That was, anyway, until you began to approach the Pugiones’ training grounds.

“Ladies! Come to wish us luck?” Caius called out, grinning broadly as he flexed his muscles just for show. “Apollo already beat you to it,” he added with a chuckle, indicating the little orange cat who was currently rubbing up against his ankle.

He was standing with Pollux and Felix, but the other Pugiones were nowhere in sight.

“Of course,” Phoenix grinned in return, taking your hand as she pulled you over to where your friends were standing. “We couldn’t let you leave without wishing you all the best.”

“Are you alright, Sabina?” Felix asked in concern, noting the wan expression on your face despite your best attempts to mask it.

Caius and Pollux both turned in your direction, looking equally concerned.

They were off to put their lives on the line in the Colosseum and they were worried about you? The thought alone was enough to make you want to curl up and weep. But you didn’t. Instead, you straightened your spine and forced what you hoped was a calm and reassuring smile onto your face.

“Of course,” you fibbed, nodding your head slowly. “Just a bit tired after last night. I’ve never served at a banquet quite like that before.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

“Don’t remind us,” Pollux sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Of course Atticus couldn’t let the evening pass without trying to put on a show. But it looks like Gallus bested him at his own game,” he added, the men sharing pointed looks with one another before turning back to you and Phoenix.

“I’ve never seen him lose control like that before. At least, not outside of the arena,” Felix said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry before either.” He shot you a sideways glance before continuing, “I heard him last night, in his room. It sounded like he was trying to turn every piece of furniture he owns into firewood.”

Caius and Pollux grimaced, but said nothing.

His words instantly caught your attention, however. All of Gallus’ furniture had been perfectly intact when you arrived at his cell last night. Had he started destroying things after you left? But if so, why?

Phoenix glanced at you knowingly before reaching down to scratch Apollo behind the ears. “See? He knew enough to come back to wish you boys luck before you leave. Not that you’ll need it. You’re the best of the best. You always come home.”

Her words hung in the air as the five of you looked at one another, no one wanting to admit out loud that it was a very real possibility that someone—maybe more than one someone—wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

“You’re all going to be great,” she went on, clearing her throat as if to dislodge the emotion that had suddenly wedged itself there. “The people love you. Give them a show, and then come back in one piece, will you?” Avoiding eye contact, she quickly wrapped each of them in a hug before stepping back.

“Good luck, boys,” you told them, not trusting yourself to say much more for fear that you would break down crying. Following Phoenix’s lead, you gave each of them a hug before stepping back and quickly wiping away a traitorous tear at the corner of your eye.

Caius, Pollux, and Felix all cleared their throats as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Well, we’d better finish getting ourselves prepared. We’ll see you both tonight,” Pollux told you, emphasizing his last statement to let you both know that none of them had any intentions of losing today.

As the trio walked away, Phoenix sighed softly and turned to look at you. She bit her lip, glancing over both shoulders before whispering, “I’m going to try to say goodbye to Carnifex. I’ll meet you back here, okay?”

You simply nodded in response, for your mouth suddenly felt as dry as sand. You glanced over your friend’s shoulder in the direction of Gallus’ cell, but your feet felt rooted to the ground.

“Hey,” Phoenix murmured gently, reaching out to take hold of both your hands. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” She gave you one last squeeze of reassurance before nudging you in the direction of Gallus’ room, her own path diverging as she headed towards Carnifex’s.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other, your body moving as if of its own accord until you were finally standing outside of the cell that you had run from not very many hours before. Your stomach flopped anxiously as you lifted a hand to knock, hurt and humiliation and fear and worry all roiling together inside you like the stew that Alba was always stirring over the hearth fire. Before you could think better of it, you rapped a couple times on the door, pulling your hand back as though it had burned you.

It seemed to take an eternity, and you were about ready to turn and flee once more when the door suddenly swung open and you were standing face to face with the man who had stolen your heart, much as he evidently would have preferred not to.

Just as it had the night before, the air between you seemed to crackle like Jupiter’s thunderbolts. Your breath got caught in your throat as you gazed up at this giant of a man who made it so difficult to think straight whenever he was near. He looked dressed for battle, and you realized you had never before seen him in his full regalia for a bout in the Colosseum. With his leg greaves, armguard, and protective belt, and his shoulder-length hair tied back from his face, he looked every inch the mighty Hercules, ready to slay the Nemean lion.

You were embarrassed to realize you were staring, mouth slightly agape, but that was when it dawned on you that he was staring, too. His dark eyes, which looked almost golden in the midmorning light, were wide as he gazed down at you, one of his large hands, which had cradled you so tenderly last night, gripping the door frame as if for dear life, his scarred knuckles turning white from the effort.

Your heart skipped a few beats when it struck you that you had no idea what to say to him. In all the time you had been growing closer to him, that had never been a problem, but now your brain couldn’t think of one logical or reasonable thing to say. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a small and hesitant, “Hi.”

It seemed as though he had been holding his breath, for he suddenly let out a long sigh, his chest heaving slightly as he continued to look at you. “Hi,” he rasped, lowering his hand to his side. That was when you noticed the bruises and cuts that you were fairly certain hadn’t been there the day before, and were once again reminded of Felix’s words.

Not knowing what else to do, you looked back up at his face and said, “Phoenix said that I should come talk to you.”

Was it your imagination or did he deflate slightly, his shoulders stooping somewhat as he nodded in response? Had he been hoping you would come see him of your own accord?

“Yes, of course. I know how persuasive she can be,” he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile as he attempted to lighten the mood. When he saw that your expression didn’t change, however, his smile fell. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, not confident you had it in you to cross that threshold again.

“Please, Sabina,” he begged earnestly, leaning towards you, but then thinking better of it and stepping back again. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you last night. For what I did. But I’d like to try to explain it to you. I don’t want to lose—to lose you. Please?”

Something in his voice, in the genuineness of his expression, compelled you, and you nodded, stepping into his room and glancing around slowly as he closed the door behind you.

In the corner of the room was a mound of broken bits of wood that had been swept together in one neat pile. Your eyes flickered towards the table where you and Gallus had often passed a meal together, and your mind registered the fact that there was now only one stool residing beneath it. But there, at the center of the table, sat the small carving that you had bought him in the Forum—the wolf and the dove. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Turning, you found that Gallus’ tormented eyes were fixed on you, his gaze flicking quickly towards the carving before landing back on you once more.

“Sabina,” Gallus began slowly, his voice thick and heavy, draping around you like a blanket in the tight confines of his cell. It had never felt as small as it did at that moment.

“I’m sorry, Gallus,” you interjected, unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. “I’m sorry about last night. I presumed too much, and you were right to turn me away. We don’t need to speak about it again, and I promise that I will remember my place from now on.”

He let out a loud breath in the silence that followed, as if he had just been punched in the gut. “You’re—what? You’re sorry?” he repeated incredulously, his eyes going wide once again. It took him a moment to fully process your words, but then he was shaking his head and stepping closer to you. “Sabina, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you. I treated you abominably last night. I hurt you, even though that is truly the last thing on earth I ever wanted to do.” 

With each statement, he drew closer to you, but you could tell his movements were slow and intentional. He didn’t want you to feel caged. He made sure there was space for you to move away from him, if you so chose. But you made the choice to remain rooted in place as he approached. 

“I didn’t want to turn you away,” he confessed quietly, just a handbreadth away from you now. Your breath intermingled as he angled his face downward, capturing your gaze with his own. He lifted one hand, painfully slow, and ghosted it against your cheek as he whispered, his voice husky, “And you presumed nothing.”

Your heart began racing at his words, at his touch, at the nearness of him. It felt as though your body was physically aching with need for him, but you were frozen. This was almost the same situation you had been in last night, but it had ended so disastrously then.

“Why?” you breathed out, your hands tentatively reaching out to rest against his bare chest. You could feel his body go taut beneath your palms, his throat tightening as he stared at you. “Why did you make me leave if you didn’t want me to?”

You wanted so desperately to understand.

“Sabina,” he said your name again, so reverently it almost sounded like the prayers of the priests as they made their offerings to the gods. “There—there’s so much I want to tell you. There’s so much I need you to understand,” he told you, looking like a desperate man as he cradled your face in his hands, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“I want to understand, Gallus,” you whispered in return, closing your eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. You wanted to commit it to memory forever. “Please, whatever it is, just tell me. Help me understand,” you pleaded.

“You have to know—”

His words were suddenly interrupted by the sharp blare of a horn blasting outside.

Startled, the both of you turned towards the door, Gallus still holding your face between his hands. His gaze darkened as he glared forward.

“It’s time for us to go,” he stated, a sense of defeat in his tone as he turned back to you. “Atticus can’t catch you in here,” he added, a strain of something else—fear?—marking his words.

“Gallus, please, talk to me. Tell me, whatever it is,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes at the thought of having to say goodbye to him now, with so much still left unsaid between you.

“There’s no time,” Gallus murmured regretfully, sounding near tears himself. He caressed your cheek lightly as he leaned in, your foreheads touching as they had before. “We’ll talk…when I get back. I promise.”

“Come back,” you begged, taking one of his large hands between both of your own and squeezing tightly. “Please come back to me.”

“I will always come back for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Go, now, before anyone sees. I’ll see you tonight. I promise.”

“Goodbye, Gallus,” you breathed out, wrapping him in a tight embrace before tearing yourself away and making for the door.

You were nearly out of hearing range when the words, “Goodbye, little dove,” floated past your ears.

Fighting hard not to break down weeping, you ran to find Phoenix.

Phoenix was finding it shockingly difficult to keep from weeping herself as she stood in the center of Carnifex’s cell, wrapped in her lover’s embrace as the two of them silently held one another.

She hadn’t intended to stay long. She had only wanted to wish him luck and say a quick farewell before the men were trundled off to the Colosseum, but Carnifex had other plans.

“There you are,” he’d murmured when she slipped into his cell, rising from the edge of his bed and wasting no time in taking her into his arms, his kiss as hungry as it always was—even more so, perhaps.

“There isn’t time,” she had scolded him, slapping his hands away as he began fumbling with the ties of her tunic. “And besides, that isn’t how you should be spending your energy right now.”

“Ah, and are you my lanista now?” he teased, honoring her wishes and opting for running his fingers through her hair instead. She’d worn it loose to come see him, knowing how much he loved to play with her long, dark locks.

“I should be, considering I seem to know just the way to tame you, stubborn beast that you are,” she smirked, wrapping her arms around his muscular shoulders and kissing him again. “I can’t stay long,” she added a moment later, lowering her feet to the floor and releasing him from her hold. “I just came to say—”

“Don’t leave yet,” Carnifex interrupted, his tone urgent, desperate even. “Please. Stay. Just for a few moments longer.”

“Carnifex,” Phoenix murmured, biting her lower lip as she glanced over her shoulder. “If anyone catches me in here…”

“Let them catch you!” His words burst forth as impetuously as a child’s.

This man. He would be the death of her.

“How could you say something like that?” she demanded hotly, her frustration matched only by her infuriating affection for this impossible gladiator. Forcing a calming breath out of her lungs, she moved closer to him and took his face between her hands, looking deeply into eyes so green, they reminded her of the seafoam back home. “You know what would happen if we were found out. What Aurelia and Atticus are capable of. Do not tempt them, or the gods, with your arrogance.”

“I would defy all the gods for just a few more moments with you,” he insisted, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he drew her in closer and pressed hot kisses to her neck.

“Then you are a fool!” she snapped, angrily pushing him away and turning her back on him. “I knew this was a mistake!”

He was silent behind her, and regret filled her veins at the harshness of her tone.

“Carnifex,” she murmured, spinning back to face him once more. Her heart was pierced by the look of hurt on his face, the look that he did nothing to try to mask.

Stepping closer to her, until they were no more than a breath apart, Carnifex stared down at her, his expression inscrutable as his light eyes bore into her dark ones.

“Would you miss me?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“What?” she asked, shaking her head and trying to back away from him. “Stop it.”

“Answer the question, Phoenix,” he demanded, matching her step for step. “Would you miss me? Do you care what happens to me in the arena?”

“What kind of question is that?” she huffed, growing more frazzled by the second. She had just come to wish him luck and to see him off. What was all this?

“A question you still haven’t answered,” he shot back pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to stare her down. “Well?”

“Of course I do!” Phoenix exploded, running her fingers through her hair like a madwoman. “How could you even ask me that? Why do you think I’m here?!”

“Why are you here, Phoenix?” Carnifex pressed, arching a brow coolly.

“Because I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye! Is that what you want to hear?” she practically shouted, for once not caring who heard them. “Because my heart is breaking at the thought of you walking through those gates and never returning, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you go without seeing you one last time!” Her chest was heaving as she battled the force of her own emotions, wanting to both claw and kiss him at the same time.

Carnifex made that decision for her, easily closing the gap between them as he lifted her into his arms and engulfed her in a kiss so hungry, so forceful, so tender that for a moment, she lost all sense of time and space.

Burying her fingers in his hair and wrapping her legs around his waist, she kissed him back with equal fervor, the two of them devouring one another as if it was their last meal on earth.

“Phoenix,” he groaned against her lips, gripping her body tightly and molding it to his. “Oh, Phoenix.” He never wanted to forget the feeling of her pressed against him.

There were no more words left to say as she silently slid back to the floor, her arms still wrapped tightly around him while he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, that hair that forever reminded him of ravens and the darkness of night.

They held each other like that for what could have been minutes or hours. Neither of them were quite sure. But when the blast of the horn signaling the men’s departure broke through the shield of their private haven, they slowly broke apart, their eyes trained on each other’s faces.

“Just come back, you hear me?” she told him, forcing herself to maintain a stiff upper lip. “Preferably in one piece so that Titus and I don’t have to spend all night stitching you back together.”

Carnifex couldn’t help but chuckle at that. No one could accuse his Phoenix of being a soft woman.

His Phoenix. When exactly had she become his Phoenix? Was she really his?

“I’ll come back. I always do,” he assured her with a wink, giving her one last kiss before walking towards the door. He told himself that he could leave without looking back, but his head turned of its own accord when he reached the threshold.

He would carry the image of her, standing with that raven hair loose and wild about her shoulders, with him into battle today and all the days of his life.

Once he was gone, Phoenix waited a few moments before slipping out of his cell, each step she took feeling more painful than the last as she fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

She didn’t have to go far before she found you hidden behind a lavender bush near the break between the ludus and the villa, wiping tears off your cheeks and making a brave effort to compose yourself.

“Oh, my sweet friend,” she murmured in understanding, sitting down on the ground beside you and wrapping you in her arms. “They’re going to come back,” she promised. “They will.”

Even as she said the words, she knew they rang hollow. What did she know? How could she make such promises?

She couldn’t.

Like you, all Phoenix could do was sit and watch as the men were loaded up and carted away, being shipped off to an uncertain fate in which the odds were most certainly not stacked in their favor.

Swallowing back the bitterness and the fear that threatened to consume her, she clung to you and whispered over and over again, “They’re coming back.”

The insatiable roar of the crowd pounded in his head, rattling his bones and beating like a drum in his bloodstream.

This time, however, it wasn’t a dream.

They roared his name, those bloodthirsty Romans who hadn’t been satiated by the hours upon hours of beast hunts, public executions, and brutal gladiator matches they’d already witnessed.

Nothing would ever satisfy them, Gallus realized. No matter how this match ended today, they’d still come back tomorrow, braying for more blood to be spilled across the sands of the arena. They were the most soulless people he had ever encountered. There was nothing honorable about death in the Colosseum, about men who were stripped of all means of protection and devoured by feral lions and tigers, about prisoners of war shrieking for mercy as they were hacked to pieces or torn limb from limb, about slaves who were pitted against one another and forced to kill just for the chance to see another day, when they’d be forced to do it all over again. And all for the entertainment of the thousands of people who surrounded him now, their ugly faces red and puckered as they screamed for violence and bloodshed.

The Romans called his people the barbarians, but he had never known a more barbaric people in his life.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, making it even harder to see beneath the bronze helmet that hindered his peripheral vision. As the pounding in his head intensified, Gallus gripped his sword all the tighter, holding it out before him in a defensive gesture as he subtly adjusted his hold on the shield he carried.

His was the very last match of the day, the grand finale to wrap up the inaugural day of the summer games. He had spent all afternoon in agony, thinking of you and worrying about the fate of his friends. As the day wore on and he watched Caius, Pollux, Felix, and Carnifex each walk through the Door of Victory one by one, he was able to breathe a little easier. But it didn’t change the anxiety he felt about his own bout. Magnus had informed him upon their arrival that he had been paired to fight against Aengus, a Gallic gladiator who was thus far undefeated and growing in popularity.

There was once a time in his life when it didn’t matter to him who he was paired against. He cared very little whether he lived or died, so it mattered very little to him what his odds were of defeating his opponent. But now, for the first time, Gallus wanted very much to live. He wanted to leave the arena through the Door of Victory. If he didn’t, he would never get to see you again. And that was not an option.

Aengus had proven to be an admirable opponent indeed. The two of them had been battling for close to thirty minutes, with neither side making much headway. Domitian and all his sniveling cronies didn’t seem to mind, not so long as the gladiators they had paid for put on a good show. For it was only when the people grew bored that the emperor’s good will evaporated.

And there was nothing more dangerous for a gladiator than a foul-tempered emperor.

But Gallus and Aengus had been living up to their reputations as undefeated champions, prowling about one another in a dangerous dance as they lunged and parried, nicking flesh and targeting weak points, but never quite succeeding in bringing the other to his knees.

The deafening screams of the crowd smothered the heavy breathing of the two men fighting for their lives upon sand that had already devoured the blood and mangled flesh of countless beasts and men alike that day. The thought struck Gallus as he circled his enemy—no, not his enemy, just the man they would force him to kill if he ever had any hope of seeing you again—that this stadium had seen more brutality and death than many a battlefield.

And many of the men who had fallen here had fallen at his hands.

He could hear people shrieking his name, goading him on to victory and demanding that he finish his opponent off. His opponent—a man who, like him, had no say in becoming a murderer for sport. A man whose only crime was trying to stay alive.

He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t. Not now. He couldn’t look at Aengus and see the humanity in him. For if he did that, it would all be over. He might as well fold now and offer his throat up to the other man’s blade. He needed to be ruthless, to cut this enemy down with single-minded focus and determination. It was the only way.

He needed to do whatever it took to get back to you. He had promised he would always come back for you, and he wouldn’t break that vow.

Fueled by the need to get home to you—to explain everything to you as he had promised and make you understand—Gallus’ strength was suddenly renewed and he pounced at Aengus, bringing his sword down against the other man’s shield so roughly that he felt the force of it vibrating up his arm.

The people went wild, but he ignored them all. This wasn’t for them.

Aengus had taken a fair number of shots at him during the match, and his body was hurting, but as he observed his opponent carefully through slitted eyes, he realized that the Gallic gladiator was suffering more than he had initially thought. Though he masked it well, Aengus was favoring his left side and his chest was heaving erratically, indicating that his breathing was growing more labored as the match went on.

“Come on, barbarian!” Aengus called out tauntingly, waving his sword in the air, almost a bit impatiently. “Let’s finish this!”

Crouching down into an attack position, Gallus took his time, circling the other man slowly, his eyes never leaving his face. Perhaps this was what he needed. He could wait the other man out, draw on his impatience and force him to react impulsively. For in the arena, impulsivity often meant fatal mistakes.

The spectators were growing restless, buzzing with the need to see more blood spilled before they packed up and went home for the day. Their cries were growing manic, their feet and fists pounding as they howled for death.

Gallus thought only of you, and he waited.

His patience was finally rewarded as, growing frustrated by the lack of action, Aengus rushed at him, sword raised high even as his shield arm hung dangerously low. He let out a loud cry—what must have been the battle cry of his people—as he leapt at Gallus.

This was Gallus’ chance and he had to take it. He had spotted the chink in Aengus’ armor as they’d been circling one another, but he needed just the right moment to take advantage of it. And now, with the other man’s shield arm weakened, that moment had arrived. As Aengus ran at him, Gallus waited until the final second to lift his sword and plunge it into his opponent’s shoulder, severing bone and muscle as he did so.

Aengus roared in pain as he collapsed to his knees, somehow managing to remain upright even as Gallus pulled his sword out of his shoulder, soaked in the Gallic gladiator’s blood.

The crowd’s reaction reached a fever pitch, the people screaming for Gallus to finish him off, this undefeated champion who they had once cheered for.

He had never known a people so fickle as the Romans.

Gallus didn’t even look up at the emperor’s box, though at this point he knew Domitian must have been giving the people what they wanted and indicating the sign for death with his thumb.

It was time to finish this.

As he raised his sword, Aengus raised his head and met his eyes from behind his own helmet. “Do it,” he said stoically, staring death in the face without a hint of fear.

Swallowing, Gallus raised his sword and pointed it at Aengus’ exposed throat. The Romans loved a drawn out, torturous demise, but he knew he could end this man’s suffering in one fell swoop.

“You would be doing me a favor,” Aengus chuckled, tossing his own sword down onto the sand at Gallus’ feet. Pain flashed in his eyes as he told him, “I can be with my Clodagh again.”

Respect for this man flooded every fiber of Gallus’ being. He had fought well. He had fought nobly. And he was willing to face death like a true warrior. He had made his people proud.

“May your Clodagh be there to greet you,” Gallus murmured, thrusting his sword forward and turning away as the light went out of Aengus’ eyes.

Jaw tightening, he threw his helmet down to the ground and stormed towards the Door of Victory, refusing to meet the eye of the emperor or any of the tens of thousands who cheered his name and showered flowers and gifts down upon him.

He had lived to see another day, but as always, it was at the cost of another man’s life. This time, it was a man who had willingly succumbed to death so that he could be with his love again.

Your face, your beautiful, precious face, was the only thing on Gallus’ mind as he stalked down the tunnel towards where Magnus and the other Pugiones were waiting for him, clapping him on the back and welcoming his return.

They didn’t cheer him. They knew, as he did, that there was nothing to cheer for, much as the Romans may have disagreed. There was nothing but silent acknowledgement among all of them that they had lived once more, that the gods had not yet seen fit to cut their chords of life, and that they would be returning home together.

Home.

Gallus had never considered the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus to be home. He had never considered anywhere to be home after he was dragged away from the rolling hills of Britannia.

But as he climbed into the cart that would carry him in chains back to the villa of his master, he thought of you and for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Rome, he knew that he was going home.

All afternoon, you and Phoenix had been working side by side in silence, sick with worry and fruitlessly trying to avoid thinking of all that could be happening at the Colosseum.

Apollo, sweet creature that he was, seemed to sense your anxiety and kept curling up in your laps or against your sides as the two of you scrubbed the training weapons and washed and hung the laundry in the ludus.

At least Aurelia had gone to the games with Atticus, so you were left to work in relative peace.

You couldn’t eat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t concentrate or think straight. All you could do was wonder what it was that Gallus had wanted to tell you, and pray to every god you could think of that he would return safe and unharmed. The gods had never seemed to hear or care about your prayers, but you begged them all the same. It was the only thing you could think to do. You were powerless to do anything else.

The sun was well past its zenith and beginning to sink lower in the sky when Titus suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. He was panting slightly and running a hand through his thinning hair.

“They’re coming,” he told you and Phoenix, the both of you freezing in place. “I’ll need your help.”

He said nothing more as he turned on his heel and rushed back to the main gate of the ludus, which was opening now to welcome back the gladiators who had returned victorious.

You and Phoenix turned to look at each other, reaching out and squeezing each other’s hands, exchanging silent words of comfort and assurance before you hurried after the medicus.

Holding your breath, you stood silently and watched as the men filed back into the ludus one by one, appearing varying levels of exhausted and traumatized. Some were worse off than others, and you knew that Titus was already performing triage in his mind, determining who needed care more urgently, and who could wait a while longer. Your eyes flickered across each man’s face, taking in the newer gladiators your master had purchased, the ones who fought in the early afternoon as a sort of warm-up for the main events.

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you realized that two men you had tended to recently, men who really couldn’t have been more than boys, were not among those who had returned. You blinked back tears and felt your throat constrict.

For the first time, you truly understood why Titus had warned you not to bother learning their names.

Phoenix reached out and grabbed onto your arm, her short fingernails digging into your skin as the newer recruits finished filing into the ludus, making way for the champions.

Felix was the first to emerge from the cart, followed quickly by Pollux and Caius. Your heart leapt with relief at the sight of your friend’s faces, but sank again when you did not immediately catch sight of Carnifex or Gallus.

You could tell that, like you, Phoenix was no longer breathing as the two of you stood waiting for what felt like an eternity, your eyes growing wide.

Just when you were certain your friend was going to unintentionally break your arm, Carnifex suddenly appeared, looking a bit tired, but altogether well. Phoenix let out a strangled breath beside you, easing her grip on your arm, but not letting go.

Your heart was hammering painfully inside your chest as you waited for him to appear. He had to be there. He had to be with them. The rest of the Pugiones had survived, and he was the very best of them. You felt hysteria bubbling up inside you, threatening to consume you, when all at once, there he was.

There he was.

He looked bone-tired, his strong body littered with superficial cuts and bruises, but he was alive. He was alive! He had come back, just as he promised.

It took everything in you to resist the urge to run to him and fling yourself into his arms. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to see for yourself that he was truly whole and well. 

You could tell that Phoenix was resisting that same urge as she bounced restlessly beside you, her eyes never leaving Carnifex’s face. He looked across the training grounds at her, and you swore you could have started a fire with the look that smoldered between them.

Cheeks growing warm, you turned away from the shockingly intimate moment and sought out the man who had captured your own heart. As your gaze roamed across the grounds, you were drawn instantly to him, like a moth to a flame. Your eyes landed on his handsome face, and you were somehow unsurprised to find that he was already looking at you.

Your heart grew wings, fluttering inside you as if it wanted to escape your chest.

The moment between you was broken, however, when Titus called out, “Girls, come! I need you!”

You had never considered yourself an impatient person, but the next few hours were torment for you as Titus put you and Phoenix to work, helping him tend to the worst of the men’s injuries. Unsurprisingly, the Pugiones had suffered minimal injuries which had mostly been dealt with at the Colosseum. They were sent to their cells with express orders to rest almost as soon as the medicus laid eyes on them. But you and Phoenix had to spend the majority of the evening cleaning and stitching deep wounds, setting broken fingers, and assessing the amount of internal injuries potentially impacting the greenest of Atticus’ gladiators.

By the time all was said and done, and Titus had dismissed you, you still had to return to the villa to avoid raising suspicion. Thankfully, Atticus and Aurelia were dining at the home of a wealthy acquaintance, which meant that you and Phoenix could quickly scarf down some dinner in the kitchen before slowly making your way back to the ludus.

It was startlingly quiet as you returned to the gladiator school. You didn’t think you had ever seen the grounds so abandoned, or heard such silence.

As you and Phoenix approached the men’s cells, she reached out to take your hand, smiling a bit impishly. “I’ll probably be a while tonight,” she admitted, not a hint of shame in her expression. “And I hope you will, too,” she added with a wink.

“Phoenix,” you mumbled in embarrassment, lowering your head as you felt your skin grow warm.

She laughed softly, wrapping you in a tight hug before turning towards Carnifex’s cell. “Good luck,” she whispered, disappearing in the blink of an eye. You had never known anyone as stealthy as your friend.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you ignored the fact that your hands and knees were trembling as you walked towards Gallus’ cell, seeing the tiny flicker of a flame glowing through his small window.

You had barely finished knocking, the sound so soft you weren’t even certain he would hear it, when his door suddenly swung open, his dark eyes looking wild as he gazed down at you.

“You came back,” you whispered, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked up at him.

In one fluid movement, Gallus reached out and took you into his arms, pulling you into his cell and shutting the door behind you. His embrace engulfed you, your cheek pressed against his chest as he held you close and buried his face in your hair.

Closing your eyes and taking a shuddering breath, you wrapped your arms around his middle and clung to him, silently thanking whatever gods had heard you for returning him to you.

When the two of you finally broke apart, arms still loosely wrapped around one another, you took a small step back so that you could gaze up at him once more. He was silent as you examined him, the light from the candle burning nearby illuminating his skin and casting a golden glow over his dark hair.

“I was afraid I would never see you again,” you confessed, your voice small as he reached up slowly to touch your cheek.

“You were the only thing on my mind all day today,” he replied, his rough fingertips somehow feeling so smooth against your skin. “It was the thought of you that brought me back.”

Squeezing your eyes shut at his admission, a few stray tears slid down your cheeks. “Gallus, I’m so confused,” you whispered hoarsely, the sting of his rejection from last night still burning a hole in your heart. “What—what is this between us?”

He sighed softly, reluctantly releasing you and taking a step back. “It’s my fault you’re confused. I—I thought that I was doing what was best, but I selfishly just can’t stay away from you,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he shook his head and turned to face the flickering candle, the light of which caught on the small carving of the wolf and the dove.

“I don’t want you to stay away from me,” you blurted out, stepping closer to him and reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Gallus, please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Help me understand.”

Gallus slowly turned to meet your eye, and you could see the full weight of his agony and fear. It was staggering in its intensity, and you found yourself trembling in response. But you held firm to his arm, showing him that you were not going to run away.

“Sabina,” he began quietly, his voice a desperate rasp between you. “Atticus is not a good man.”

You blinked slowly, your heart suddenly seizing with terror. What had Atticus done to him last night? And was it all because of you, because of what Gallus had done to defend you? You felt sick.

“What—what happened?” you asked softly, afraid to know, but also recognizing that it was the key to understanding Gallus’ actions last night.

Sighing again, a soul-deep sigh, Gallus leaned forward and rested his palms on the flat surface of the table. He was quiet for several minutes, but you stood beside him, patiently waiting.

“Sit down,” he told you gently, pulling out the one remaining stool and setting you down upon it carefully, making sure you were comfortable. He paused again before saying, “Atticus has always known that he hasn’t had anything to hold over my head, and it makes him crazy. I’ve never truly cared whether I lived or died, and there isn’t anything he can take from me that I haven’t lost already.”

You sat perched on the stool and listened to him carefully, still except for one hand nervously twisting in the folds of your tunic.

“He’s tried many times to lure me with gifts and rewards, trying to find some kind of weakness in me that he can exploit for whatever his purposes are. That’s what he does, Sabina. He watches people and he learns their weaknesses and he uses them against them.” He sighed again, running his hands through his hair as he clearly fought to continue on. “And I always thought that I was safe from all that, that there was no weakness he could find in me, nothing he could manipulate to get to me. But now there is,” he admitted, fixing his gaze on you slowly.

“What is it?” you asked, your pulse pounding in your veins.

“You.”

The word hung between the two of you, suspended as if in midair as your eyes widened and the truth of it etched itself across Gallus’ face.

“Atticus knows that I care for you, that I would sooner die than see any harm befall you. And after the stunt I pulled at the banquet last night—well, now there’s no denying it,” he grimaced.

“Oh, Gallus, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, feeling responsible for the turmoil he was facing.

Gallus held up his hand, halting your apology. “No, Sabina. This is all me. I’m responsible for this.”

“I still don’t fully understand,” you said slowly, biting your lip as you looked up at him. “Last night, during the banquet, when Atticus pulled you away—what happened? What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did,” Gallus told you, his voice low and saturated with bitterness. “It’s what he threatened to do.”

You felt nauseous all of a sudden, but you couldn’t quite explain why. You sat silently, both hands resting still in your lap, waiting for Gallus to go on.

He surprised you by suddenly kneeling on the ground before you, taking both your hands in his and resting his forehead against them. “Sabina, this is all my fault. I wanted to protect you. I’m so sorry.”

“Gallus, what is it? Whatever it is, just tell me,” you coaxed gently, slipping one of your hands out of his grasp and resting it atop his head, running your fingers through his hair.

When Gallus finally lifted his head to look at you, his misery was so profound that it took your breath away. “He threatened you, Sabina. He knows now that he finally has something to hold over my head. He made it clear that should I ever do anything to displease him, he would take it out on you, that he would hurt you and—and—” It seemed that there was more on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Gasping softly, you took his face between your hands and pressed your forehead to his, absorbing all the pain and fear and misery he had been carrying around all on his own. The horror of his admission—and of just how awful a man your master truly was—washed over you, but you clung to him all the tighter, refusing to let him go.

“I thought—I thought that if I could distance myself from you, push you away, that you would be safe,” Gallus went on, pain cracking his words and splitting them in half. “Sabina, last night—you have to know how much I—but I—”

He had been trying to protect you. What you had understood to be rejection and indifference was in reality a testament to just how much this man cared for you. He was willing to break his own heart, to let go of you forever, if it meant keeping you out of the clutches of your vindictive master.

No one had ever cared for you in such a way before.

“Gallus,” you whispered, stroking his face as you stared deeply into those dark golden eyes of his.

You understood now the magnitude of what it meant to give yourself to him. You thought of Phoenix and her fear of having her relationship with Carnifex found out. You thought of the tragic, ill-fated love of Rufus and Niobe. It was a risk, a danger to give your heart to him and accept his heart in return. It would make sense to do as he said, to distance yourself from him and let him push you away.

But he was the first glimpse of true happiness you had ever known in this life that was not your own. With him, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

You had known nothing but pain and suffering and misery since you were six years old. Your heart had been broken more times than you could count. You had survived and pushed forward anyway, compelled by some force you couldn’t name and certainly couldn’t understand. But you knew, with undeniable clarity, that you would not survive this heartbreak if you had to give him up. It was like you had been drifting out at sea all these years, and he was your first real sight of the shoreline—of safety, of security, of home.

You could not let him go.

Whispering his name once more, you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to his, kissing him so tenderly that you felt your own heart shatter and then begin to knit itself back together again, stronger than before.

Gallus was still for a moment, frozen beneath your touch as your lips covered his. But then, as if by instinct and the guidance of some invisible force, his arms came to wrap around your waist and he rose slowly, pulling you off the stool as he did so. One hand came up to bury itself in your hair as he kissed you back, his mouth moving against yours in a way that was almost shy.

You moaned softly, tightening your grip on him as you stood on your tiptoes, melting into him. You felt the wetness on your cheeks, but it took you a moment to realize that they weren’t your tears.

Pulling back, breathing heavily, you stared up at him, at this man who had captured you, mind, body, and soul, and found that he was crying.

Lifting your hand, you brushed away his tears, as he had done so many times for you, and smiled at him through the haze of your own emotion.

“I am yours,” you vowed, pushing his hair back and cradling his face in your hands. “No matter what anyone does to me, I will always be yours.”

“Sabina,” Gallus breathed out, pulling you into his arms and kissing you again, relief coursing through his body as he held you close.

He held you like he would never let you go.

And as you kissed him, your mouths fitting together like they had been carved by the gods for that express purpose, you knew with unwavering certainty that there would never be another for you in this life.

He was yours, and you were his. Forever.

TAGLIST: @callsign-magnolia @eli2447 @lt-spork @dlea203 @cherrycola27 @mikpieboo @callsignblondie @morgan108 @aprilwithapricots @up-thereinthesky @gigisimsonmars @na-ta-sh-aa @fav-fanficssss @lewmagoo @kmc1989 @inky-sun @je-suis-prest-rachel @amortentiadrops @jostyriggslover96 @nolita-fairytale @roosterscock @bradshawsbitch @shouldershimmycity @missathlete31 @andfreeshipping

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Gallus (Rooster) from Si Vis Amari Ama // Commissioned artwork by @forsty

Words cannot even begin to describe how unbelievably obsessed I am 😍 The colors, the details—all of it goes above and beyond anything I could have hoped for. I will cherish this always! ♥️

#I’ll also probably never shut up about it #just look how gorgeous 😍😍😍 #commissioned artwork #si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU #bradley rooster bradshaw

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

VII. A Banquet to Remember

SERIES MASTERLIST

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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.

TAGLIST: @callsign-magnolia @eli2447 @lt-spork @dlea203 @cherrycola27 @mikpieboo @callsignblondie @morgan108 @aprilwithapricots @up-thereinthesky @gigisimsonmars @na-ta-sh-aa @fav-fanficssss @lewmagoo @kmc1989 @inky-sun @je-suis-prest-rachel @amortentiadrops @jostyriggslover96 @nolita-fairytale @roosterscock @bradshawsbitch

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

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Si Vis Amari Ama

VI. Rising Stakes

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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: Another update in only a little over a week? Who is she? I’m going to ride this wave of inspiration as far as it takes me! Summer vacation is right around the corner though, so I do hope I’ll be able to update this story more regularly!

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, mentions of physical abuse, references to injuries and gladiatorial combat, minor language, angst, pining, allusions to sexual acts, implied sex, brief sexual content, Atticus being gross (this deserves a warning all on its own), slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

It had only been a week since Gallus had told you about the upcoming summer games, and yet it felt that everything in the household had been upended in those few days’ time. Dominus was even more preoccupied and snappish than usual, which meant that Domina was even crueler in her treatment of the household servants. Just the other night, she’d smacked you hard across the face for dropping one of her favorite necklaces.

“Forgive me, Domina,” you’d begged, blinking back the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes in response to her brutal slap. With trembling fingers, you carefully picked up the string of carnelian beads that Dominus had purchased for your mistress from an Egyptian merchant and laid them on her dressing table.

“Why should I, you clumsy slut?” Domina snapped, glaring at you with cold eyes. She was a beautiful woman, and yet those eyes seemed as though they could turn a person to stone. “By the gods, my husband really allows you to help care for his gladiators?”

You saw it then, that flash of jealousy in her eyes. Phoenix had been saying for months what a jealous shrew she was and now, with the tragic story of Rufus and Niobe still so fresh in your mind, you could believe it. Though you had been ignorant of your mistress’ proclivities when you first entered the household, you had since seen for yourself, on more than one occasion, new recruits from the ludus being led to and from Domina’s bedchamber on nights when Dominus was dining with his associates or out of the city on business. It made your stomach churn, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt that it was never the Pugiones who were brought to her bed. 

It was never Gallus.

You almost had to laugh at the irony of the situation you were caught up in. Though she was a beautiful woman with more wealth and privilege than you could hope to attain in ten lifetimes, with a husband who spoiled her rotten and lovers she selected on a whim, Aurelia looked at you with a raging jealousy filled with such bitterness, it almost made you pity her. Almost.

And yet, despite the upheaval in the household and your mistress’ savage moods, you were pleased to find that the impending games meant even more time spent at the ludus than usual. With the men’s training regimens becoming even more militant, there were more injuries and wounds that needed tending by Titus, Phoenix, and you. There had been a couple days when the three of you had worked from sunup to sundown, wrapping fractured fingers, stitching broken flesh, cleansing bloody lips and noses.

The summer festivals were fast approaching, and there was a new tension that hung in the air, everyone knowing that the games that would soon be sponsored would be advertised as grand spectacles for the public—which meant greater risk of bloodshed and death for the men whose lives only mattered to the people of Rome when they were putting them on the line for their entertainment.

Magnus had been drilling the men even harder than usual, not accepting even the smallest of errors or mistakes.

“Why are you dead?” you had heard him demand on multiple occasions, staring intently at the gladiators who had made fatal moves during their practice bouts.

They never had an excuse that appeased him.

He’d been drilling the Pugiones hardest of all, and you noticed it was already beginning to take a toll on them, particularly Gallus. You never failed to observe the way his jaw clenched and his dark eyes narrowed when Magnus corrected him, or the way he spoke to his trainer only when he absolutely had to and then stalked off as soon as his practice bouts were over. You wanted so badly to ask him what had happened to sever his relationship with the older man, but you also didn’t want to upset him, especially as preoccupied as he had been as of late.

That afternoon, you and Phoenix were huddled off to the side of the training grounds, intently scrubbing and polishing the daggers, swords, shields, and armor that the men used when they competed in the Colosseum. Your fingers were raw, but you had already been warned by Titus and some of the other household slaves that if the equipment didn’t meet Dominus’ exceptionally high standards of maintenance, he would make you start all over again. And, depending on his mood, there might be some level of punishment involved.

The two of you had been up since sunrise, helping Alba prepare breakfast in the kitchen and serving it to the men of the ludus, then cleaning the men’s cells and washing the incredible volume of laundry that had accumulated in just a couple days’ time. In between each task, you’d been occasionally pulled away to help dress a wound or care for a minor injury. Now, at least, you could sit and chat quietly with one another as you worked.

“What are the summer games like?” you asked Phoenix in a soft voice, scrubbing at a stain on the edge of the short sword that Caius carried. Having never been inside the Colosseum yourself, you had usually paid no mind to the chatter about the games that went on around you, but now you found yourself desperate to know everything. You had to know what your friends were up against. You had to know what Gallus was up against. “Are they really so brutal?”

Phoenix sighed, lowering the greave she’d been polishing and massaging the back of her neck with one hand. “Yes,” she admitted honestly, biting down on her lower lip. “The arena is quieter during the winter, and even through much of the spring, so the people are starving for blood by the time summer comes around. Performances at the theater just don’t entertain the same way a man’s blood being spilled on the sands of the arena does,” she said bitterly, her eyes fixed on a faraway point before she shook her head and glanced over at you. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assured her, carefully setting down Caius’ sword and reaching for a small dagger. You bit your lower lip in shame. You knew better than anyone how bloodthirsty your own people could be. “So what happens?” you pressed.

“It depends on who’s sponsoring the games, how much they’re willing to spend,” Phoenix explained, picking the abandoned greave back up again, though she hardly paid any mind to the task she was performing. “Last summer, Caesar made sure that the games went on for weeks. From what I heard, there were shiploads of animals brought in from all over the empire—gazelles, ostriches, lions, tigers, panthers, bears, even elephants. The bestiarii usually perform in the morning,” she went on, referring to those who were pitted against the wild beasts in the arena. “Then the public executions—Caesar had a grand time with those last summer,” she muttered, gritting her teeth and shaking her head as if trying to dislodge the memory of whatever she had witnessed. “The gladiator bouts are always in the afternoon—they’re what everybody waits for. It’s always about putting on a good show, at least as far as the Romans are concerned. Sometimes there are chariots and men on horseback. Sometimes they make a whole group of them act out past battles—always ones where Rome was the victor, of course. Most of the time, it’s two men pitted against each other, both of them fighting with everything they have not to leave through the Gate of Death.”

You shivered at your friend’s description of what went on within the marble walls of the Colosseum, shutting your eyes against the mental image of men’s bloodied and broken corpses being dragged away through the ominous Gate of Death.

When you opened them again, you discovered that Phoenix’s hands had completely stilled and that she was no longer looking at you, but across the training grounds, where Carnifex was currently engaged in one-on-one combat with Felix, who was doing his best to snag his faux opponent in his net. Her dark eyes were wide and unblinking as she watched him.

Wordlessly, you reached over and placed your hand over hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. She startled at your touch and turned to look at you, her expression softening as she came back to the present moment. She squeezed your hand in return, so much passing between the two of you without a single word being said.

Although she was still terrified, and rightfully so, about word regarding her and Carnifex’s secret relationship getting out to other members of the household, it seemed that a weight had been lifted off her shoulders now that she no longer had to keep it a secret from you. She’d confessed just the other night, as the two of you had been making your way back to your quarters, that it felt good to have someone she could talk to about what was going on between her and the Gallic gladiator.

“They’ll come back,” Phoenix whispered, her gaze breaking away from you as she glanced back at Carnifex and the other Pugiones. You weren’t sure if she was saying it more for your benefit or her own. “They always come back.”

You thought of Gallus’ promise, how he had assured you that everything was going to be fine, and your heart clenched painfully inside your chest. You hoped that it would be.

Both you and Phoenix got back to work then, falling into a companionable silence as you scrubbed and polished diligently. It wasn’t exactly easy work, especially with the threat of punishment from Atticus hanging over your head, but it was mindless enough that your thoughts began to wander until you hardly noticed at all what was going on around you.

That was, at least, until you became distantly aware of the sound of raised voices nearby.

“Oh, no,” Phoenix murmured beside you, lowering the shield she had been working on and rising slowly from the grass.

Blinking away the fogginess that had settled over your brain, you looked in the same direction your friend was facing and felt your heart drop when you saw Gallus throwing his sword and shield down and pointing an angry finger in Magnus’ face.

“I know what I’m doing, you washed up old bastard,” he was growling. You could see the furious sparks flying in his golden brown eyes, even from where you sat. “I don’t need you constantly breathing down my fucking neck!”

Pollux, who had been paired with Gallus for that particular practice bout, took a step back and looked away awkwardly, clearly not wanting to get involved in the dispute between his fellow gladiator and his trainer.

Magnus, though shorter than Gallus by nearly half a foot and most likely twice the younger man’s age, stood his ground without flinching. You were suddenly reminded of the fact that this man was a Rudiarius. He wouldn’t have managed to earn his freedom if he weren’t one of the boldest and bravest gladiators Rome had to offer.

“You’ve been Rome’s champion for a long time, Gallus,” Magnus said, his voice even and calm despite the hulking gladiator glaring down at him and looking like he was ready to wring his neck. “You’re growing too complacent, slowing down when you should be speeding up, pulling back when you should be going in for the kill. It’s going to cost you.”

Gallus scoffed in disgust, glaring even more deeply. If looks alone could kill, Magnus would have been dead long before now. “Just because you were given a rudis doesn’t mean that your way is the only way.”

Magnus frowned at his words, looking frustrated. “I’ve been living in this world a lot longer than you have, Gallus. I know the reality of what you’re up against better than anyone. I care about you and I don’t—”

His words seemed to make Gallus even more irate, judging from the way his body stiffened and his muscles grew taut. “Care about me?” he demanded, cutting off the older man. “You don’t fucking care about me! If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did,” he said coldly.

Everyone in the entire ludus was silent and still now, watching what was unfolding between the two men with bated breath.

“Gallus, there’s more to it than you—”

“Shut up!” Gallus roared, rage filling his expression. He reached for his wooden practice sword and clenched it violently in his hands, so violently that for a moment you were afraid he was going to use it against Magnus. But then he lifted it in the air and snapped it over his knee, breaking it clean in two.

Magnus and everyone else just stared as Gallus threw the shattered pieces of wood down to the ground, his chest heaving in a combination of anger and exertion. Without uttering another word, he whirled off towards his cell, not glancing back once before slamming the door shut so hard, it rattled on its hinges.

Instinctively, you stepped forward to follow after him, but Phoenix grabbed onto your arm and shook her head slowly.

“But he—”

“It’s better to just leave him for now,” Phoenix told you, and you felt a slight pang in your heart for how much better she seemed to know him than you did. “He needs time to cool down before he can speak to anyone.”

You sighed, knowing she was right, but wishing you could go speak to him all the same. For all the anger that had clearly been boiling inside him, you could also tell that underneath his brutal exterior, Gallus was hurting. You didn’t know why exactly, and you didn’t know what could be done about it, but you wanted to offer him what comfort you could.

“I just don’t understand,” you murmured, looking over at Phoenix. “What happened between Gallus and Magnus? What is it that Magnus apparently did?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Phoenix shrugged, frowning. “All I know is that everything was fine between them, and then one day it wasn’t. And it hasn’t been ever since.”

“Let’s go, men! Back to work!” Magnus shouted suddenly, looking a bit rattled but trying not to show it as he goaded the other gladiators back into their training exercises.

For a moment, he met your eye and you were surprised to see a wounded, almost haunted, look in his gaze. Whatever had transpired between him and Gallus, it was clearly eating at the both of them. And while it wasn’t your business, you couldn’t help the overwhelming desire that flooded you to somehow put it to rights.

Gallus remained in his cell for the rest of the afternoon, refusing to come out for the midday meal or for Titus’ examinations. Your heart ached for him, but you knew it was best to heed Phoenix’s advice and give him the space he needed to calm down.

By early evening, you and Phoenix were expected back at the villa to help Aurelia dress for a banquet that she and Atticus were attending at the home of some important politician or other. You never really could keep up with all the names that your mistress tossed about as though they were supposed to mean something to you.

“Ugh!” Domina frowned when you and Phoenix stepped into her perfumed bedchamber, her delicate nose wrinkling in disgust. “The two of you are filthy after being with those disgusting barbarians all day!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed that Phoenix was barely able to prevent her eyes from rolling backwards. You understood the impulse. Your mistress acted as though she wasn’t constantly clamoring to get those “disgusting barbarians” in her bed every chance she got.

“Get out of my sight until you’ve bathed yourselves,” she continued, pinching her nose with one hand and waving the both of you away with the other. “But don’t dally, you lazy gutter rats. I will not be late.”

Neither of you wanting to face the wrath of an even angrier Aurelia, you and Phoenix hurried to the bathhouse, where you stripped down quickly to wash your tired bodies. 

You gasped in alarm when you saw a small, round bruise on your friend’s upper thigh. “Phoenix, what happened?” you cried softly, knowing that she rarely got hit by your mistress the way you did. Part of you thought Aurelia was a little afraid of her.

“What?” Phoenix questioned in confusion, glancing downward to where your eyes were glued. “Oh,” she mumbled, her cheeks suddenly turning red as she covered the mark with her hand. “It’s nothing,” she assured you. “Damn that man,” she muttered under her breath.

Your eyes widened as understanding dawned, and then you felt your own cheeks growing warm. “Oh,” you murmured, feeling a bit foolish. “So Carnifex—?”

“I told him that he mustn’t, but the damn fool doesn’t listen,” Phoenix grumbled, though you could detect the undercurrent of affection in her tone, even as she tried to mask it. “He still leaves them everywhere.”

It was then that you noticed the faint marks littered across her torso and hips and realized that they weren’t the marks of a cruel hand, but the traces of a lover’s touch. You felt even more embarrassed for having brought it up.

Phoenix looked up and must have caught the expression on your face because she suddenly started laughing. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweet Sabina,” she told you, using a strigil to scrape the day’s grime from her skin. “I suppose it’s my own fault, really. I tell him not to do it, but then I encourage him with the sounds I make. As if that man needs any more excuses to be a preening peacock,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“So you like it then?” you asked, curious but shy. You scrubbed underneath your fingernails with the warm bath water. “When he does that to you, I mean?”

“Yes,” she nodded without hesitation. “I know it looks painful, but it doesn’t hurt, I promise you. It actually feels good when he does it. He always makes me feel good,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly getting a bit misty.

“I’m happy for you, Phoenix.” you told her sincerely, smiling at her as the two of you began to dry off and redress yourselves. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be treated well.”

“So do you,” Phoenix replied, her expression serious as she rested a hand on your shoulder. For a second, it seemed as though she wanted to say more, but then she simply said, “Let’s hurry back before that bitch really starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Unsurprisingly, Domina still managed to find fault with just about everything you and Phoenix did, from the way you styled her hair, to the jewelry you selected, to the way you arranged her stola. You were certain she would have made the two of you start all over again if not for the fact that Dominus began calling to her, demanding that the two of them leave.

“Useless sluts,” Aurelia huffed, tossing her curls over her shoulder and pushing past you with a huff as she traipsed out of her room without so much as a backwards glance or a word of thanks.

“What a miserable cow,” Phoenix scoffed once she was out of earshot, sitting down on the edge of the bed without a care for the fact that Domina would have been apoplectic with rage if she could see her. “But at least she and Atticus are gone for the night,” she added with a sly grin, her dark eyes lighting up with the sense of freedom—limited thought it was—that came whenever your masters were out and you could come and go about the household without being concerned about their watchful gazes.

“Should we go see if Alba’s finished preparing dinner for the ludus?” you suggested, your stomach fluttering at the thought of getting to spend a little uninterrupted time with Gallus. You desperately hoped he was in a better mood than he had been earlier today.

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Phoenix winked playfully, rising from the bed and grabbing your hand as she pulled you along to the kitchen.

Lying atop the lumpy mess of straw that passed for his mattress, Gallus stared up at the ceiling of his cell with his fingers laced together across his stomach. He was doing his best to ignore the grumblings that had been disturbing him for hours, trying not to regret his choice to skip the midday meal.

He was still angry. At the world. At Rome. At Magnus. But mostly at himself.

In the past, he hadn’t much cared about allowing his blind rages to take over, his mind devoid of anything except the destructive fury he felt towards those who had stripped him of his freedom and continued to deny it at every turn. He would get it out of his system, lock himself in his cell for a few hours, and then inevitably move on until the cycle began all over again.

But today was different. Today, you were there. You had witnessed his rage and his violence, and for that, he was ashamed.

To the rest of the world, he was a barbarian, but he wanted you to see past that. He wanted you to see him. Not the champion of Rome, not the “Barbarian from Britannia.” Just him.

After the show he’d put on today, he knew the likelihood of that ever happening had all but evaporated like the morning mist. He wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to speak to him again, let alone be alone with him for any length of time. The thought pained him tremendously. He had come to rely so deeply on the time the two of you spent together, especially in the evenings over dinner, and he was furious with himself for jeopardizing that.

He knew he didn’t deserve your presence in his life or your friendship, but he ached for it all the same. You had awakened something inside him, something innate and primal that he’d thought had long since died within him. It took his breath away sometimes, how much he craved your nearness. Just to know that you were close was enough to soothe his agitated nerves, to bring peace flooding his heart. And he didn’t want to lose that.

Rolling onto his side, he thought once more of how he’d lost his mind with Magnus that afternoon, wincing when he recalled his white-hot rage and the violence with which he’d broken his practice sword. Had you been scared when you saw what had happened? Were you scared of him now? The possibility sank like a stone deep inside his chest.

In the midst of his tormented thoughts, Gallus lifted his head when he heard a faint knocking at his door. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he rose and approached hesitantly. “Who is it?” he demanded, his voice gruff.

“It’s Sabina,” came your soft voice from the other side of the door.

He instantly wanted to kick himself for once again being such a brute. Maybe that was really all that was left of him at this point.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door of his cell and felt his heart momentarily stop beating when he looked down at you, standing like a vision of innocence on the threshold, holding his tray of dinner in your hands.

“Hi,” he breathed out, standing frozen in place.

“Hi,” you murmured in response, smiling gently. He loved the way your lips curved upward when you smiled. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he mumbled sheepishly, shaking his head as he stepped to the side and reached to take the tray out of your hands. He felt his heart squeeze inside his chest when he noticed you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the cell instead of sitting down on the stool you had become accustomed to sitting on.

Dropping the tray of food onto the small table pressed against the wall, he moved to close the door, but then thought better of it, worried you were feeling afraid of him.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, indicating the stool that he had grown so used to seeing you perched upon.

You shifted from foot to foot, glancing from him to the stool and back again. “Do you mind if I stay?” you asked, your voice so small that he thought for sure if there was anything left of his heart, it would break.

“Of course not,” Gallus replied quickly, shaking his head. “I—I’d like you to stay,” he added softly.

You were quiet for a moment, but then your face broke out in one of those beautiful smiles. “Okay then,” you said softly, stepping over and closing the door yourself before taking a seat upon your stool. He felt himself breathing a little easier once he saw you in that familiar spot.

Swallowing nervously, he moved to sit down across from you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he sought the right words. “Sabina, I—I want to apologize,” he began, his heart hammering inside his chest. He didn’t even get this anxious before a fight in the Colosseum. “For earlier. My behavior. I was out of line and I—I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond right away, just gazed deeply into his eyes, in that way of yours that made him feel like you could peer into his very soul and see everything that was inside him. It was unnerving, and yet with you, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

“I behaved like a barbarian, and I don’t want you to see me that way,” he confessed, feeling his skin grow warm as his ears and cheeks turned a dark shade of pink.

At that, you suddenly reached across the small table, your eyes full of compassion as you rested your soft hand over his calloused one. “You’re not a barbarian, Gallus,” you said, your voice unwavering.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he could weep.

Gently, almost fearfully, he placed his other hand on top of yours, privately reveling in the feel of your smooth skin against his. “Thank you.”

“Now eat your dinner,” you told him, the tension in the room dissolving as you pointed at the barley and vegetable broth that Alba had prepared.

Tearing the large hunk of bread he’d been given in half, and making sure to give you the slightly larger half, he watched in satisfaction as you tore off small pieces and began dipping them into the soup, no longer hesitant or afraid to share his meals with him. It made him smile to himself, though he tried to hide it as he ate his food, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to swallow it down like a savage after going hungry all afternoon.

“You must be so hungry,” you commented, once again seeming able to read his every thought. “You didn’t eat anything this afternoon.”

He flushed in embarrassment, but didn’t deny it. “I’m starving,” he admitted, stuffing a large piece of bread into his mouth and trying to savor every bite.

“You shouldn’t do that,” you pressed gently, putting your bread down and laying your hands flat on the table. “Skipping meals, I mean. You need every bit of strength and energy you can get with the games coming up so soon.”

He detected the thread of anxiety in your voice as you spoke, and he was both cheered and saddened by it at the same time. On the one hand, it gladdened his heart to know that you were concerned about him and that you cared what befell him. On the other hand, he hated the thought of you being worried.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” he assured you. Realizing, however, that that sounded a bit pompous, he quickly tacked on, “But I also promise I won’t do it again.”

Your shoulders seemed to relax slightly at that, and his did, too.

“Gallus?” you asked after a couple moments of silence, that nervousness back in your voice as you twisted your fingers in your lap. “I was wondering…can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything,” he nodded, one eyebrow rising as he looked across the table at you. Whatever it was that you wanted to ask him seemed to be weighing on you heavily, judging from the way you were biting down on your lower lip and strategically avoiding his gaze. “What is it, Sabina?”

“It’s just—what happened between you and Magnus?” you blurted out suddenly, your eyes widening, seemingly at your own boldness. He stiffened immediately at the mention of his trainer’s name, and that seemed to make you even more nervous. “I’m sorry, of course it’s none of my business. It’s just that—well, Phoenix said that everything was fine between the two of you and then suddenly one day it wasn’t and I can see that there’s so much anger you’re carrying, but also hurt, and I think Magnus is hurting, too, and I just—I want to help you,” you finished softly, your eyes still wide as you stopped to catch your breath.

He sat back silently for several moments, his head cocked to the side as he drank in the sight of you sitting across from him, your beautiful, kind heart put on full display as you revealed that you wanted to help him, that you wanted to be a comfort to him in the midst of all his pain and anger. What had he ever done to deserve you? Nothing. He knew that he didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve your beauty or your kindness or your goodness. But he longed for it. He longed for it so badly that he thought he might not survive the ache buried deep inside his chest, right beneath his heart.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. “What happened between Magnus and me,” he rasped hoarsely, all the old feelings of pain and betrayal being dredged up. “It’s complicated.”

“I’d like to try to understand,” you said gently, sitting with your hands in your lap and giving him the space he needed to speak.

“Magnus has been my trainer for a long time,” Gallus began, clearing his throat. “Ever since I arrived at this ludus. He was a great gladiator, Rome’s champion for years and years. He was so good that Emperor Titus finally granted him his freedom, the rudis. But he always said that he didn’t even know what to do with freedom, that he felt he was where he belonged when he was in the arena with a sword in his hand. So Atticus hired him to train his gladiators to be the best of the best, just like he was.” He took a breath, running a hand through his hair. “When he was a gladiator, Magnus fought in the Thracian style, like I do now. On the one hand, it was helpful because he taught me everything I needed to know.”

“But on the other?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you listened intently to his words.

Gallus sighed deeply. “He’s always been so hard on me, pushing me so much more than all the other men. Sometimes it feels like he wants me to be just like him, but thinks I never will be.”

Once more, your hand slid across the table to rest on top of his and you squeezed lightly, comfortingly. He could get used to that feeling.

“We butted heads sometimes, but we always got along,” Gallus went on with his story, his jaw tightening as he thought of the moment when their relationship fell apart completely. “But that was until the Lupercalia games a couple years back,” he said, his expression darkening.

“What happened at the Lupercalia games?” you wondered, your expression touched with compassion even as the corners of your mouth turned down slightly.

“It’s what didn’t happen that’s the problem,” he muttered darkly, doing his best to tamp down the anger that was rising within him. “Domitian hosted a week of games, culminating in what he called a fight the likes of which Rome had never seen. He announced that whoever won that fight would be given the rudis. The winner would be granted his freedom.”

He noticed your soft intake of breath, and hung his head for a moment before continuing. “I begged Magnus to convince Atticus to enter me in that fight. I didn’t care how dangerous it was. I didn’t care how many men I had to fight. I just wanted to be free. I wanted to leave Rome forever and never look back.”

“So what happened? Did he not speak to Atticus?” you asked, clearly trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in your mind.

“No, he did,” Gallus ground out, still infuriated when he thought back on it. “Atticus kept me out of the Lupercalia games completely. Kept me chained up here while the rest of the men went to fight, in fact. For a little while, I thought it was just Atticus being a greedy bastard—he wouldn’t be able to use me anymore if I won my freedom, so he didn’t want me enrolled in the games. But one day, he was trying to goad me, trying to get under my skin, and he revealed the truth—Magnus had gone to him and specifically told him not to enter me into the games. He’s the reason why I lost my shot at freedom.”

You gasped softly at that revelation, your eyes widening. “But why? Why would he do that?”

“He’s never told me why,” Gallus said bitterly, shaking his head as he tore his half of bread to pieces. “But he didn’t deny it. I’ve never trusted him since. I thought he was my friend, but he betrayed me. He cost me the only chance I’ve ever had to be free.”

“Oh, Gallus,” you breathed out, placing your hands over his to stop him from shredding his food to bits. You waited until his eyes met yours, then went on, “I’m sorry. I—I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry.”

He took a deep breath, feeling grounded from the sensation of your warm hands pressed against his. “It is what it is. There’s nothing I can do to change it. But I—I can’t help this resentment that I feel towards him. When I think of what he did—sometimes it makes me crazy.”

“I understand,” you said simply. And he believed you.

Looking deeply into your eyes, Gallus knew that there wasn’t a cruel or deceptive bone in your body. You didn’t know how to play games with people or how to manipulate others for your own gains. It wasn’t in your nature. Every word that fell from your lips rang with truth and sincerity, and that was why he felt safe with you. He hoped that you could feel safe with him, too.

“I haven’t told that story to anybody,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your face. “Nobody knows what really happened with Magnus, not even the rest of the Pugiones or Titus or Phoenix. Only you.”

“I won’t tell anybody,” you assured him, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing his hand gently. But this time, you didn’t pull your hand away. Instead, you continued to hold onto him, your thumb softly brushing against his skin.

“Thank you. I know that I can trust you,” he replied, his own thumb rubbing a slow half-circle against the back of your hand.

The two of you sat in silence for several minutes, your gazes and your fingers intertwined as the seconds passed. The air became thick with a heavy kind of tension, different from the tension that had been present before. This was a tension that made his stomach clench and his pulse race. This was a tension that made him distinctly aware of every breath you took and just how close your body was to his in this small cell.

He wasn’t sure which one of you moved first, or how the spell was broken, but suddenly the both of you were rising from your seats, pulling your hands back by your sides and fumbling for your words sheepishly.

“I should go and let you get your rest,” you murmured quietly, shifting back and forth, almost nervously.

He just nodded, too dumbfounded to know what to say. As you moved past him and opened the door, however, he suddenly stopped you with a hand on your arm. When you looked up at him, your lovely eyes so full of innocent trust, he wanted in that moment to be a better man than he had been all these years. “Thank you again,” he said in a low voice, hoping you could sense the emotion imbued in his words.

“You’re welcome, Gallus,” you whispered in reply, resting your hand over his once again.

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to stay by his side and never leave. But instead, the words that slipped out of his mouth were, “Get back safely, little dove.”

Little dove.

His eyes widened as soon as the words were out of his mouth. How could he have uttered them out loud? For weeks now, he had been thinking of you as his little dove—so sweet and gentle and delicate and innocent. But he had never meant for the term of endearment to slip off his tongue in your presence. He had never meant to say it aloud.

Horrified, he looked down at you, certain he would find you recoiling and turning away in embarrassment at the familiarity he had presumed. Instead, he was shocked to see your eyes shining as you gazed up at him and a beautiful, heartstopping smile gracing your lips.

“Good night, Gallus,” you breathed out, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning and being swallowed up by the darkness.

“Good night, my little dove,” he whispered into the emptiness, closing the door and laying down on his bed, knowing he would dream of nothing but your sweet smiles.

A few cells down, sweaty and breathless, Phoenix and Carnifex collapsed into one another’s arms after a frantic romp, her dark hair loose and wild across his pillow.

“Fuck,” Carnifex breathed out, chuckling as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and fought to still his racing heart. “I haven’t even been this exhausted after the training Magnus has been putting us through,” he confessed, running a tired hand through his damp hair.

Phoenix smirked smugly, rising up on her elbow and resting her cheek in her hand as she gazed down at him. “That’s why I’m here, gladiator. To put you through your paces. Make sure you maintain that competitive edge,” she grinned, tracing lazy circles on his bare chest.

Smirking cockily in return, Carnifex suddenly sat up and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her beneath him in his small bed. “Oh, I’ve still got my edge,” he assured her, trailing hot kisses down her throat as his hands roamed her slender body, his arousal spiking once more and growing against her thigh.

“Easy there,” she warned, her own body responding in kind as she tilted her head backward, granting him more access to her sensitive neck. “I can’t stay much longer.”

He groaned in frustration, desperate for a night where she didn’t have to leave him, where she could remain tangled with him in his bedsheets all night long and share this pleasure with him as many times as they both wanted. Stubborn as always, he began to trail his kisses downward until he was between her breasts, licking and sucking on her salty skin. She had told him once, in passing, that her people came from the sea and he always felt that he could taste it on her, as if even after all these years, it was still a part of her.

Phoenix fisted her hand in his hair, tugging slightly and pulling his head up until his eyes were meeting hers. “I told you that you have to stop doing that,” she moaned, the tremble in her voice and the look in her eye conveying quite the opposite message.

“What? Marking this gorgeous skin?” he questioned, his voice low and husky as he nipped playfully at the spot just beneath her left breast, lightly catching her skin between his teeth.

“Carnifex, I mean it,” Phoenix insisted, her voice more serious this time as she forced herself to sit up.

He sat up as well and crawled back to her side, brushing strands of her dark hair behind her ear. “I always make sure it’s places that no one will see,” he whispered, knowing she was afraid of Aurelia catching wind of what had been transpiring between them these many months.

“Sabina saw,” Phoenix told him, which made his green eyes widen. “When we were in the bathhouse. She saw my thigh. She was worried that someone was hurting me,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

“She’s a good friend,” Carnifex replied, sitting with his back against the wall and tugging Phoenix to his side. He ran his fingers up and down her spine as rested against him. “I’m glad that you have someone like her to look out for you. And we both know she’s not going to say anything to reveal us.”

“I know that, but that’s not the point,” Phoenix said, running a hand through her hair. “If Sabina saw, then other people might see. Who’s to say someone else won’t catch me while I’m bathing?”

“You worry too much,” he sighed, pressing soft kisses to her jaw.

She put a hand on his chest, pushing him away. “And you don’t worry enough,” she scowled, her frustration mounting. Shifting on the bed, she moved to swing her legs over the side, but Carnifex was faster and pulled her back against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips against her ear. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Phoenix sighed, somehow unable to resist him as he nuzzled his nose across her cheek and whispered soft words against her skin. She relaxed in his hold, longing to linger for just a few moments more.

“I’m afraid, Carnifex,” she confessed quietly, laying her head back in the crook of his neck and closing her eyes as his lips brushed against her forehead. “I’m afraid for us, and for Hrodebert and Sabina and anyone else who finds out.”

“No one else is going to find out,” he rushed to assure her, stroking soothing circles on her arms. “I promise I’ll be more careful. Nothing bad is going to happen, Phoenix.”

She was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Nyx.”

“What?” he asked, tilting her chin so that she was looking up at him. His brow was furrowed in confusion.

“My name—the name my parents gave me—is Nyx,” she told him, quietly revealing to him the story of how she’d come to be known as Phoenix.

Carnifex swallowed several times, trying to keep the emotion he felt rising within his chest at bay. For all these months, she had been coming to his bed, giving him her body but always closely guarding her heart. But recently, something had started to shift. Slowly, piece by piece, he was earning her trust and she was letting her walls come down bit by bit. They talked more of their homelands, and she even let small stories of her family slip past her lips from time to time. But now, for the first time, she had entrusted him with her name—the name that symbolized her freedom and the life she had known without chains and fetters.

What could he give her in response to such a sign of trust, to this slow revelation of her heart?

He could only give his own in return.

“My name is Senovir,” he revealed, his tongue nearly tripping over the name he had not uttered aloud in over a decade. “My real name. The name my parents gave me.”

She just smiled in return, reaching up and cupping his face in her hands. “Senovir,” she murmured, the name so foreign on her tongue, but so right at the same time. He shivered at the sound of it. She said it once more as her lips closed over his, kissing him deeply.

Moaning softly into her mouth, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close as their tongues moved in tandem with one another, so familiar now after all this time. And yet, she never failed to surprise him. The taste of her honeyed lips, the feel of her soft skin, the sensation of her body pressed against his—he knew he would never get used to any of it, no matter how hard he tried.

“Nyx,” he sighed, feeling the loss of her when she pulled away and trying to take her into his arms once more.

“I have to go,” she told him gently, stroking his cheek. “Sabina will be waiting for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Covering her hand with his own, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Good night,” he said quietly, kissing her one last time.

In a flash, she was dressed and deftly pulling her wild hair back into a loose braid, and then she was gone.

Falling back on his bed, Carnifex closed his eyes and tried to shut out the pain that her leaving always caused him.

He had always known it was a dangerous game that they were playing, though he hadn’t been able to stay away. What he hadn’t quite realized, but was now coming to learn with shocking clarity, was that falling in love was the most dangerous game of all.

The next morning, not long after the sun had dispelled the last vestiges of evening darkness, the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus slowly began to come to life, exhausted gladiators falling out of bed and rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they fumbled with their sandals and began arriving on the training grounds.

After a night of tossing and turning, Gallus was feeling particularly weary as he stepped out of his cell, his muscles and joints screaming in protest as he moved. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been clinging to him since you’d left his room the night before. It was a strange sense of foreboding, as if someone or something was trying to warn him, but about what he couldn’t even dare to venture a guess.

Seeing that Felix, Pollux, Caius, and Carnifex were already starting to assemble near the training arena, he approached them and offered a wordless greeting, which they all silently returned. No one said a word about yesterday’s incident with Magnus, and for that he was grateful. None of them knew exactly what had taken place between him and their trainer, but they didn’t ask and they didn’t pass judgment. They’d all been beaten down by this life in one way or another, and they knew better than to stick their noses in business they had no part of.

Breakfast hadn’t yet been served, but Gallus was hopeful that you would be arriving soon with Phoenix and that he would be able to lay eyes on you. It had become a habit of his, a morning routine of sorts—he woke up each morning and wasn’t able to fully relax until he saw you and could confirm that you were okay. After your conversation last night, he was feeling especially antsy about seeing you again. Dawn was just breaking, so he knew he might have a while longer to wait.

Just then, however, he suddenly caught sight of Hrodebert hurrying towards him and he frowned slightly. The other man wasn’t in the habit of being in the ludus at this time of day, particularly by himself. Worried about you and Phoenix, and what the steward’s presence this morning might mean, Gallus met him halfway across the grounds.

“Hrodebert, what is it?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

For his part, Hrodebert didn’t seem to mind his bluntness. He never did. “Atticus wants to see you,” he replied, looking a bit anxious and uneasy himself. “He sent me to fetch you before training starts.”

Gallus’ frown deepened. “Why does he want to see me?” he demanded, the sense of foreboding he’d been experiencing only growing stronger.

Hrodebert shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, Gallus, I don’t know. He just told me to fetch you as quickly as possible.”

Gallus scowled, though he tried not to direct his frustration at his friend, who he knew was only the unfortunate messenger. What the hell did Atticus want now? Had he heard about yesterday’s altercation? Had Magnus gone and complained about his behavior? Letting out a grunt of disapproval, he crossed his arms over his chest, but muttered, “Fine, let’s go.”

Nodding, Hrodebert turned and led him through the gates of the ludus and towards the main house. He so rarely left the grounds of the gladiator school, except for when he was being transported to the Colosseum, so it was always a bit of a shock to his system when he stepped foot onto the property of the villa, with its tinkling fountains and fragrant flowers and expensive mosaics. Keeping his head down, he followed behind Hrodebert through the winding halls until he was standing outside Atticus’ private tablinum.

Hesitating only for a moment, Hrodebert reached up and rapped swiftly on the door.

“Come in,” came Atticus’ cool voice, always so calm and calculating.

Pushing open the door, Hrodebert stepped to the side so that Gallus could step in behind him, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. “Gallus is here, Dominus,” Hrodebert murmured respectfully, keeping his head bowed slightly.

Gallus looked over at his friend and frowned. Hrodebert was ten times smarter than Atticus could ever hope to be, and yet he was forced to play the meek and subservient slave. It sickened him.

“Thank you, Hrodebert,” Atticus smirked, rising from behind his spacious desk. “You may go,” he said, dismissing his steward with a careless wave of his hand. “And close the door on your way out.”

Hrodebert shot one quick glance in Gallus’ direction, but then did as he was told, leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

“Gallus, my boy,” Atticus grinned, spreading his hands outward as if he was a benevolent father welcoming his son to dinner and not a greedy lanista intent on sucking his gladiators dry for every sestertius they were worth.

Gallus remained rooted in place, his arms crossed firmly across his wide chest and his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Come now, Gallus, is that any way to greet the man who’s been responsible for your astonishing rise to fame?” Atticus demanded, that smug grin still planted firmly on his face as he stepped around his desk and pulled out a chair for him. “Sit, sit.”

Biting back a retort about where Atticus could stick his fame, Gallus took a begrudging step forward, but still did not sit down. He knew other members of the household could be punished for such disobedience, but Atticus couldn’t afford to have him beaten. Not when he made him the most money out of everyone in the ludus. He smirked coldly in return. It looked as if two could play at this game.

Not missing the defiant glint in Gallus’ eyes, Atticus dipped his head in acknowledgement and moved back behind his desk. “Suit yourself,” he stated, remaining standing as well.

The two of them stood in a silent faceoff, neither saying anything for long minutes. Atticus could keep him here as long as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to play his games.

“So, Gallus, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to see you this morning,” Atticus finally said, moving around some scrolls littered across his desk.

Gallus simply raised an eyebrow, once again not giving his master the satisfaction of a response.

Annoyance briefly flashed across Atticus’ face, but then he quickly schooled his features back into a controlled mask of calm. “I know you have much training to get back to, so I’ll make this as brief as possible.” He lifted his hands, revealing the heavy rings that bedecked several of his fingers. “You are my champion, Gallus, and you’ve been training quite hard from what I’ve heard. I’m a generous man, as you yourself know.”

Gallus had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting aloud. He remained silent, waiting to see where Atticus was going with this.

“As such, I wish to give you a reward,” Atticus explained, his eyes glittering and his smile looking particularly serpentine.

Once again, that uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck.

“I don’t need a reward,” Gallus muttered darkly, having a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. The only thing he wanted was his freedom, and he knew Atticus was never going to give him that.

“Oh, but I think you’ll enjoy this one quite a bit,” Atticus smirked, resting one hand on his desk and looking directly into Gallus’ eyes. “After all, I’ve seen the way you’ve been…admiring her, shall we say.”

Gallus could feel himself blanching at his master’s cold words, his heart stuttering in his chest for a moment and then immediately picking up its pace. Still, he tried to remain aloof and keep his feelings hidden.

Atticus just smiled all the more, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. “She’s quite pretty, I do have to say. And sweet, from what I hear. If I wasn’t so busy as of late, I might even want her for myself,” he chuckled, knowing his words would land just where he wanted them to.

Gallus’ fists clenched tightly and he could feel his face growing warm as he fought back the urge to punch Atticus in his smug face.

“But like I said, Gallus, I’m a generous man and I’m more than willing to give her to you as a gift for all your hard work,” Atticus went on, his smile growing more oily and manipulative by the second. “I’m sure she’d look quite pretty sprawled out across your bed.”

Rage began boiling inside him as he seethed silently, incensed by Atticus’ words and their implications. How dare he! How dare he speak of you like that, like you were nothing more than some common whore in the Suburra. How dare he treat you like a piece of meat that could be thrown to the dogs as a reward for a job well done. Gallus conjured up the image of your sweet face, with your innocent eyes and your gentle smile, and it took everything within him not to reach across the desk and strangle the life out of Atticus.

“No,” he ground out sharply, his dark eyes narrowing even further as he glared daggers at his master.

“No?” Atticus gasped, feigning surprise. He was as phony and manipulative as they came. He knew from the start that Gallus was going to refuse him, and yet he pretended to be shocked by the denial of his “exceptionally generous” offer.

“No,” Gallus repeated, his voice as hard as the iron with which his sword had been forged. “I’ve told you this enough times, Atticus. I do not want a woman who’s been forced into my bed against her will.”

He and Atticus had been doing this same old dance for years now. He would never forget the night after his first major win in the Colosseum, when he’d returned to the ludus amidst cheers and celebration to find a naked prostitute on his bed.

Atticus really had been surprised—and angered—that night when Gallus threw her out of his cell without touching her.

“I already paid her,” Atticus had hissed after having him dragged to his office. “A very generous sum, I might add. And this is the thanks I get?”

“Keep your money and your women,” Gallus spat, his body still trembling from the white-hot rage that had overcome him. “I have no interest in ones that come to my bed through no choice of their own.”

“Would you look at that? A barbarian with feelings,” Atticus had barked out laughing, openly mocking him.

After that night, he had tried several more times, parading pretty slave girls in front of him and tipping the whores he hired for the other men to pay a visit to Gallus’ cell after they were done with the others. Each time, Gallus resolutely turned them down. His stomach soured at the thought of lying with a woman who had been paid or coerced into throwing herself into his arms.

Eventually, Atticus stopped trying. Which was why Gallus knew that this wasn’t about offering him a reward at all. This was a power play, an intentional move designed to show him who was in charge—and how powerless he was to do anything about it.

“And here I thought you’d be so thrilled about my very kind offer to let you have the lovely—oh, what’s her name again? Sabina?” Atticus asked, raising his brows wickedly. “Ah, such a shame. I’m sure some of the other men would be more than appreciative.”

Gallus couldn’t help it. At the insinuation that he would give you to the other men, he lunged forward, slamming his hands down on the edge of Atticus’ desk and breathing heavily.

“Seems I struck a nerve,” Atticus smirked coolly, straightening up and crossing his arms across his chest. “Don’t forget, barbarian, that Sabina is my property and I can do whatever I wish with her. Same goes for you.”

Chest rising and falling with barely concealed fury, Gallus said nothing, fear hammering through his veins at the thought of Atticus doing anything to harm you. Above all, he was angry with himself for rising to the bait. This is exactly what Atticus had wanted, just as he’d feared. He wanted to goad him, to figure out just how much you meant to him and how much he could use that against him. With Atticus, it always came down to leverage and manipulation. And now, perhaps for the very first time, he truly had something to hold over him.

You.

Rolling his shoulders back, Atticus smiled serenely as if he’d just been discussing the weather and not the fate of a woman over whom he had the power of life and death. “But now, I see no reason why there should be any issues where Sabina is concerned. Or anyone else, for that matter. Because you’re going to continue to be my champion, aren’t you, Gallus? You’re going to do whatever I ask, and make sure that this ludus remains a success, right?” The look he shot him was pure ice.

“Yes, Dominus,” Gallus muttered bitterly, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from burying his fist in his master’s face.

“I’m glad we understand each other, Gallus,” Atticus said, stepping around his desk and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve always been a reasonable man—for a barbarian, that is,” he grinned

Gallus gritted his teeth, staring blankly ahead and refusing to react to any more of Atticus’ barbs.

“I’ll fetch Hrodebert to see you back to the ludus,” Atticus told him, opening the door and calling out for his steward, who appeared a moment later. “Farewell for now, Gallus. Enjoy your training.”

“Is everything alright?” Hrodebert murmured once they were near the ludus gates, noticing the look on Gallus’ face.

“No, Hrodebert,” Gallus replied darkly, the rage building up inside him once more. “No, everything is not alright.”

For the rest of the morning, he took his impotent rage out on every man who faced him in the practice arena, besting each of them as he pictured himself burying his blade in Atticus’ chest.

He was suddenly glad that you and Phoenix had not yet arrived at the ludus, for he was certain that if he saw you now, he would break down weeping.

You were surprised that morning when, instead of immediately reporting to the kitchen for breakfast duty, you, Phoenix, and the majority of the household slaves were called into the atrium, where Domina was reclining casually. Upon seeing you all, she rose from her couch and clapped her hands to silence you, as if anyone had been speaking.

“There you all are,” Aurelia scoffed, rolling her eyes irritably. She turned up her nose in disgust as she gazed out at all of you, acting irritated, like she’d somehow been kept waiting.

“One day I hope her face gets stuck like that,” Phoenix whispered in your ear.

You lowered your head and bit down roughly on your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“As you all know,” Domina began, cutting straight to the chase, “the summer games will be beginning in just a few weeks’ time. To kick off the festivities, your master and I have decided to host a banquet the evening before the games begin. That gives you all plenty of time to get your sorry acts together and make this villa the most stunning anyone in Rome has ever seen. I expect it scrubbed from top to bottom until it glistens, and I expect this banquet to be the finest of the season. Do I make myself clear?” she snapped.

“Yes, Domina,” you all murmured deferentially, keeping your heads bowed.

“Good,” Aurelia smirked, tossing her dark blonde hair and resting a bejeweled hand on her hip. When nobody moved, she clapped her hands irritably and shouted, “Well, get going!”

All of you scattered, Phoenix tugging your hand and leading you in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, good, I can’t wait,” your friend scoffed with a roll of her dark eyes. She glanced over at you and winced. “If you think Aurelia is bad now, just wait until you see her hosting a banquet.”

You winced as well, cringing inwardly. You had seen Aurelia hosting a few small dinner parties at the villa, and that was bad enough.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your first banquet in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus would be like.

TAGLIST: @callsign-magnolia @eli2447 @lt-spork @dlea203 @cherrycola27 @mikpieboo @callsignblondie @morgan108 @aprilwithapricots @up-thereinthesky @gigisimsonmars @na-ta-sh-aa @fav-fanficssss

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

SERIES MASTERLIST

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.

Warnings: This series is 18+ for mature content. Slavery in the ancient world, physical abuse and injury, gladiatorial combat and brutality, use of coarse language, eventual sexual content—and yes, despite all this, romance and fluff.

A Roman Guide to the Daggers: Please reference this guide as a cheat sheet for the Latinized names of the Dagger Squad, as well as a small glossary of Roman terminology used throughout the story.

Shout Outs: Thank you to @ryebecca and @luminousnotmatter​ for allowing me to inundate them with my thoughts and ramblings, and for being such wonderful supporters of this story! Special shout out to Rebecca for giving me the idea for the title. It’s attributed to the Roman philosopher Seneca, and translates to, “If you wish to be loved, love.”

Story Playlist: None of my stories would be complete without a playlist! As always, this one is a work in progress, so feel free to send in recommendations and suggestions!

JOIN THE TAGLIST!

I. Twin Flames

II. Healing Hands

III. A Gladiator’s Oath

IV. Kissed by Fire

V. Revelations

VI. Rising Stakes

VII. A Banquet to Remember

VIII. Let the Games Begin

MORE TO COME!

#si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #series masterlist

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

V. Revelations

SERIES MASTERLIST

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: And we’re back! Once again, I apologize for how long it’s taken me to update this series. This chapter went through a lot of revisions, but it opens the door for a lot of events that will happen later in the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, discussion of atrocities committed in the past, allusions to physical abuse, references to injuries and gladiatorial combat, mentions of death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

Baking had always been one of your favorite chores, from the time you were a little girl. It reminded you of your mother and the hours the two of you would spend in the kitchen together, laughing and singing songs. Mater had always smelled of the flour that constantly dusted her cheeks and fingers, paired with the smoky tang of ashes from the baking stone. It was a scent that was all her own, and one that you missed more than anything in this world.

You were reminded of her every time your nimble fingers worked to knead fresh dough or shape the loaves for baking, which was why you had been thrilled when you and Phoenix were assigned to kitchen duties this morning.

With the household being as large as it was, the kitchen was always a beehive of activity, particularly this early in the morning. And the queen bee of this hive was Alba, an older Germanic woman who had been serving the Cornelius family since the time your dominus was a boy. A stern woman with a face that hardly smiled and brooked no argument, she ran the kitchen with an efficiency that rivaled the government officials of Emperor Domitian and she had little time for laziness or foolery. On more than one occasion, you had seen her reduce several of the girls to tears for not working up to her exacting standards.

As of yet, you and Phoenix had managed to avoid displeasing her, so whenever you were assigned to work in the kitchen, the two of you were normally entrusted with tasks that left you in relative peace. Right now, that meant that the both of you were settled in the small courtyard behind the kitchen, manning the ovens used for baking the sourdough bread that sustained the majority of the household, from Dominus and Domina all the way down to the lowliest slave.

You and Phoenix had been working together for the past hour in companionable silence, Phoenix stoking the flames that burned beneath each testum, the earthenware pots used for baking, while you shaped the dough into flattened rounds and carefully placed them onto the baking stones. It was a tricky business, baking bread, especially bread that had to pass Alba’s strict inspection. If the dough wasn’t left to bake long enough, it would remain sticky and undercooked, but if you left it for too long unattended, it would char and taste like ash. You had to wait until that perfect moment when the edges started to curl up from the stone just slightly, the top of the loaf a golden brown. Then it was ready.

Humming softly underneath your breath, you pinched off another mound of dough and quickly molded it before carefully placing it on an open baking stone, cautious not to burn your fingers. Noticing that one of the other loaves you’d set down earlier was ready, you peeled it off gently and left it to cool with the others. Stretching your arms over your head, you felt your joints pop and you let out a small sigh of relief as you pressed a fist into your lower back.

One thing about baking bread was that it required you to spend a great deal of time hunched over the ovens, which could be brutal on your back.

“Almost done, I think,” you told Phoenix, who looked up at you with an almost startled expression when you spoke. Your friend had looked preoccupied all morning, her mind clearly somewhere else as you worked. “With the bread, I mean,” you clarified, indicating all the loaves you had already baked. It would be enough for now, at least until dinner that evening.

“Oh, yes,” Phoenix nodded, laughing softly, though the laughter didn’t touch her eyes. “I think it will meet with Alba’s approval,” she grinned, rising from her spot on the ground and rubbing her own sore back.

“I hope so,” you replied with a smile, beginning to gather up the ready loaves and arranging them into baskets to carry back inside.

“Hmm, an expert healer and a master baker,” Phoenix mused, a small smile tugging at her lips as she pretended to scrutinize the bread. “Is there anything you cannot do, my sweet friend?”

Embarrassed by her praise, you shook your head and waved her off. “Plenty,” you retorted, kneeling down once more to check on the remaining loaves. “My mother taught me how to bake when I was very small,” you explained, gently prodding at one browning loaf to assess its progress. “It was something we always enjoyed doing together. I don’t remember much about my childhood anymore, but I do remember that,” you confessed softly, feeling a knot of emotion unfurl inside your chest. “Sometimes, when I’m baking, I hum the songs she used to sing to me, and it’s almost like I can feel her wrapping her arms around me again, guiding my hands and showing me what to do.”

Phoenix knelt beside you, a look of deep compassion and understanding on her face as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Words weren’t needed, which was what you had always appreciated about her friendship. She could say so much without ever uttering a word.

“You’ve never talked much about your childhood,” she said slowly, after a few moments of quiet.

“No, I haven’t,” you conceded, watching as the bread slowly curled away from the baking stone and quickly snatching it up before it burned. “But neither have you,” you added, raising your brows in a pointed expression as you looked over at her.

“Point well taken,” Phoenix laughed, sweeping away the ash from the fires as you collected the rest of the bread. She sighed then, a heavy sound that came from deep within her chest. “I don’t think too often of home anymore,” she admitted, brushing her sooty fingers on her tunic without a care for how Domina would react. “It hurts too much.”

“I understand,” you murmured with a nod, knowing exactly how she felt. It was painful to dwell too long on what had been, considering how both your childhoods had been so violently cut short.

Phoenix glanced over her shoulder at you, her dark eyes still and thoughtful as she seemed to consider something for a moment. Then she walked over to you, sitting you down on the bench behind you and taking the spot next to you.

“Have I ever told you the name of the island where I was born?” she asked, the early morning sun glinting off her dark hair as she gazed at you expectantly.

You shook your head. You knew that Phoenix had been born in Greece, but nothing more. You had learned over the years not to press anyone you worked with about their past. In a world where everything had been taken from you, the story of who you were, of where you had come from and of the dreams you’d once held dear, was the one thing that was still yours, the one treasure you could keep locked away inside your heart where not even the cruelest master could reach it. It was an unspoken rule among the enslaved that you didn’t try to pry that gift out of anyone’s hands unless they chose to bestow it upon you.

Phoenix took a deep breath, twisting her hands in her lap. Reaching over, you covered her hands with your own and offered her a soothing smile.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you assured her, knowing better than anyone that it was never easy to talk about the past.

“No, I want to,” Phoenix insisted, squeezing your hand as she straightened her spine. “Sabina, you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had. You’re like the sister I always wanted. I want you to know where I’ve come from.”

Touched, you swallowed back your emotion and smiled encouragingly, waiting in patient silence to let her begin. You would give her all the time and space that she needed.

“I was born on the island of Melos,” Phoenix began, glancing up at the sun as if imagining the place of her birth. “It’s a small island in the Aegean, right near Crete. It’s so beautiful there. The water is so blue, like nothing you’ve ever seen before,” she breathed out, her dark eyes growing filmy with memory.

“It sounds wonderful,” you said softly, trying to conjure up an image of it in your mind. Rome was all you had ever known, and the Tiber River was certainly not the bluest water you had ever seen.

“My people were fishermen,” she went on, smiling sadly at the thought of her family. “My father had his own boat, and he was good at what he did. My family always lived comfortably, and we always had enough of everything we needed. I had four older brothers, and they were all learning the trade of our father.” She glanced downward for a moment, trying to compose herself. “My mother always wanted me at home, helping with the chores, but I wanted to be on the sea, with my father and my brothers. My father used to joke that perhaps I was really a sea nymph and not their daughter.”

You smiled at that, feeling a pang in your heart for the close relationship your friend had shared with her family, and for the losses she had inevitably faced.

“When I was around four or five years old,” Phoenix continued, “my father started to take me with him on his boat. I used to stand at the bow and spread my arms out wide and pretend that I was flying. Have you ever been on a boat, Sabina?”

You shook your head, biting down on your lower lip. “No,” you admitted, though she made it sound so wonderful. “No, I’ve never left Rome.”

“Maybe one day,” she smiled, taking your hand in hers and squeezing. “I loved being on my father’s boat. No matter what was going on, I always wanted to go with him. One time I was playing with my brothers and I fell and broke my arm, but even then, I still tried to follow him out to the sea,” she recalled, laughing at the memory. “He called me his little phoenix, because he said that no matter what happened, I always managed to rise back up again from the ashes.” Her lashes were wet as she turned to look at you. “When they brought me to this city and made me give them my name, I told them it was Phoenix. I swore to myself that no matter what happened, I was going to keep rising again, just like my father said.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you gasped softly, hugging your friend tightly as her tears started to fall. You had never seen her so emotional before, so open and vulnerable. You wanted to do whatever you could to comfort her and shield her from the pains of this life.

“No one knows what my real name is,” Phoenix told you, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What my parents and my brothers called me.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you told her, not wanting her to feel that she had to divulge all her secrets.

“It’s Nyx,” she said without missing a beat. “My parents said that when I was born, my hair was as black as midnight, so they named me for the goddess of night.”

“That’s beautiful,” you smiled. It suited her. “But you’ll always be Phoenix to me, my brave friend who rises from the ashes,” you added, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and hugging her.

She smiled at that, sniffling softly as she rested her head against yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You weren’t sure if there was any more of her story that Phoenix wanted to share, but you wouldn’t push either way. It was her story to tell, how and when she wanted to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Phoenix suddenly sat upright and looked at you again. “I was eight years old when the Romans ransacked our island. We already belonged to the empire. I’ll never understand why they couldn’t just leave us in peace,” she whispered hoarsely, swallowing back her tears.

Your heart sank like a stone, dreading what she would tell you next.

“They killed all the men,” Phoenix said, covering her mouth with her hand as she clearly struggled with the memory of that day. “The boys, too, if they were old enough. My father and my brothers—they put them all to the sword,” she sobbed, her shoulders trembling as you held onto her. “They burned my father’s boat, our homes, everything. The women and the children they loaded up onto their ships and they brought us here in chains, like we were nothing. Like our lives were worth nothing more than a sack of grain or an amphora of wine.” She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself down. “The last time I ever saw my mother was that day at the slave market. A merchant from Egypt bought her and they just dragged her away from me. We were both screaming and crying, but the traders didn’t care. They told me to shut up and get back in line. To this day, I don’t know what ever became of her. But I want to believe that she’s safe, that she’s okay.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you held your friend’s hands tightly in your own. “Oh, Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you told her, your body hot with shame that your own people had wreaked such havoc and destruction in the lives of so many.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Phoenix said firmly, wiping your tears away with one hand even as she wiped away her own. “Look at us, a couple of bawling messes.” She looked into your eyes, smiling through her pain. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about my family. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad that I did. Thank you for listening to me.”

“You would do the same for me,” you told her sincerely, knowing without a doubt that it was true.

“In a heartbeat,” Phoenix nodded. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’m here for you and I’m all ears,” she promised.

“Another time,” you murmured softly, patting her arm. It had already been a heavy enough morning, and the both of you would be in trouble if you didn’t get this bread back to the kitchen soon.

“There you two are,” Hrodebert announced in relief, suddenly appearing in the entryway of the courtyard. “Alba’s grumbling about how long you’re taking out here, but I think I managed to smooth things over,” he said with a crooked grin. With him and the old cook both being from Germania and sharing the same mother tongue, Hrodebert had managed to secure one of the limited soft spots in Alba’s heart, which he was sometimes able to work to the advantage of others.

“Such a grump that old woman is,” Phoenix huffed, wiping one last time at her eyes before she rose from the bench and pulled you up with her. “We’re coming, we’re coming.”

As he stepped closer and got a better look at your faces, Hrodebert seemed to realize that something significant had passed between the two of you and he looked between you apologetically. “That’s actually not the only reason I was coming to find you.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Phoenix tried to hide a smile as she nudged his arm playfully. “What is it now?”

“Titus is on his way to perform the physical inspections of all the gladiators,” Hrodebert explained, glancing over at you and noting your confused expression. “It happens every six months or so. Dominus wants to ensure that his gladiators are in top fighting form at all times, so he makes sure that they have physical evaluations at least twice a year.”

“And let me guess, the old man wants us to assist him,” Phoenix interjected, her voice filled with an undeniable affection for the medicus.

Hrodebert couldn’t help but smile at that, nodding. “Precisely. But you know it takes a while, so he said he wants them fed before he starts the inspections so they don’t start their grumbling. I’ve already sent some other girls over to feed the newer recruits, but can you two deliver breakfast to the Pugiones?”

“Of course,” you nodded, trying to mask how eager you felt. Domina had been keeping you busy around the household these past couple days, so you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get over to the ludus. It had been a few days now since you’d last seen Gallus and you were shocked by just how much you missed his brooding presence.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you nearly missed the silent exchange that passed between Hrodebert and Phoenix, some unspoken conversation that had Phoenix looking a bit flustered. You raised a curious brow as you glanced between them, but knew it was better not to say anything.

“Come, Sabina,” Phoenix muttered quickly, helping you snatch up the baskets of bread you’d prepared and leading you back into the kitchen.

Alba gave a grumpy grunt of approval when she saw the loaves you’d baked, eyeing both you and Phoenix irritably. At least you were saved from a more severe tongue-lashing thanks to Hrodebert’s intervention. “There,” she stated bluntly, pointing at a large pot of bean stew, which was what the men of the ludus typically ate most mornings before their training bouts. Beside it was a small stack of earthen bowls on a wooden tray. “And take this,” she added, shoving one basket of bread into your hands.

Knowing it was no use to argue with Alba or give her any sort of attitude, you and Phoenix simply nodded and were off as quickly as possible, Phoenix hefting the pot of stew while you carried the tray with the bowls and bread.

“A woman’s work is never done, huh?” Phoenix teased, winking at you as you both crossed the barrier between the villa and the ludus.

“Never,” you grinned, feeling a small thrill rush through you once you stepped foot on the training grounds. Even after only a few days away, it felt nice to be back again.

As much as Gallus may have occasionally enjoyed his fellow gladiators’ company—in reasonable doses—they were starting to drive him crazy this morning. They’d all been dragged out of bed even earlier than usual, put through their paces of independent exercises before being informed that Titus was arriving shortly to conduct his physical examinations of every man in the ludus.

It felt ridiculous at this point, that the Pugiones needed to go through a whole show of being examined. Everyone knew that they were the fittest fighters in Rome, so it seemed pointless that Atticus made them perform this charade every few months.

Scattered among the training compound in the already hot sun, all of the men seemed cranky and tired, muttering to themselves or picking fights with one another.

But no one was crankier than Gallus. He’d been on edge these past few days, his mood shifting like the undercurrent of a storm, his frustration building up inside him like that of the caged lions and tigers they kept chained up in the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum.

No one dared say anything, but from the sideways glances they shot him whenever Titus or Phoenix arrived at the ludus without you by their sides, he knew they could all tell what was eating at him.

Where were you?

It had been three days now since he had last seen you and he felt like he was going insane. Phoenix assured him that Aurelia was just keeping you busy in the villa, but he needed to be able to see for himself that you were okay. That bruise on your wrist hadn’t been the last mark he’d seen on you, and it made his blood boil to think that even now, that miserable bitch was causing you even an ounce of pain.

Flexing his fists and breathing deeply through his nostrils, Gallus gritted his teeth and tried to drown out the conversation that was going on around him, pacing around the perimeter of the compound irritably.

“I’m starving,” Felix groaned, lying flat on his back on the small patch of grass beside the training grounds where the Pugiones practiced. He clutched his stomach like a dying man, sighing dramatically.

“Says the one who stole two servings of dinner last night,” Pollux smirked, dumping a handful of grass onto his fellow gladiator’s face.

“Hey!” Felix sputtered, sitting up and wiping the blades of grass out of his face with a grin. “I didn’t steal anything! I can’t help it if Flavia from the kitchens thinks I’m cute,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t think you’re cute, she thinks you’re puny,” Caius jumped in, laughing as he prodded Felix’s leg with a sandaled foot. “She’s trying to fatten you up so you don’t get slaughtered in your next contest.”

“Slaughtered?” Felix scoffed, feigning offense as he jumped to his feet. “I’d like to see any man try. You just so happen to be looking at the greatest retiarius in all of Rome,” he smirked, bouncing lightly on his feet as he took playful jabs at Caius.

Caius smirked in return, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oh, I’m really scared, fisherman,” he joked, deftly blocking all of Felix’s pretend hits.

“You should be,” Phoenix called out, startling both men. “Fishermen are some of the bravest men I know.”

Everyone’s heads, including Gallus’, whipped in the direction of Phoenix’s voice.

Carnifex nearly tripped in his effort to rise from the low wall where he’d been lounging lazily, the long blade of dry grass that had been stuck between his teeth falling to the ground in his haste.

Gallus barely noticed because just as his line of focus zeroed in on Phoenix, he caught sight of you following right behind her and he felt his heart begin hammering inside his chest.

There you were. You were okay, at least from what he could tell at this distance. Aurelia hadn’t been able to keep you away this time. Mouth suddenly feeling dry, he managed to get his feet moving, bringing him closer to you with every step. And when he saw that your eyes were on him, a small smile gracing your lips, he moved all the faster, feeling inexplicably drawn to you in a way that he still couldn’t comprehend.

“Alright, Pugiones, fall in line,” Phoenix called out, setting down a large pot of what smelled like—unsurprisingly—bean stew. “You’re only going to get your breakfast if you’re all on your best behavior,” she smirked, resting a hand on her hip.

“No cutting! I’m first!” Felix exclaimed, running to stand in front of Phoenix with an eager grin on his face.

“See? Look how quick on his feet he is! You all could learn a thing or two,” Phoenix laughed, winking playfully at Felix.

Pollux and Caius rolled their eyes, but chuckled as they fell in line behind Felix, followed by Carnifex and Gallus in the rear.

Gallus couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you began moving down the line of men, handing each of them a bowl with a smile and a kind word of greeting.

“Nice to see you again, Sabina,” Pollux told you, grinning as he accepted his bowl. “We’ve missed you around here these past few days.”

“I’ve missed you all, too,” you murmured, almost shyly, which made Gallus’ chest tighten with the overwhelming need to protect you and make sure that no harm ever befell you.

When you finally came to the end of the line and looked up at him, he was embarrassed by the way that his breath caught in his throat. What had you done to him?

“Hello, Gallus,” you greeted him, your voice sounding so small as you held out a bowl to him.

He stared at it for a moment, as if not comprehending why you were giving it to him. Coming to his senses, however, he shook his head and reached out to take it from you, a jolt of lightning shooting up his arm as your fingers brushed against his. “Hello, Sabina,” he murmured in response.

“How have you been?” you asked, averting your gaze and staring down at your bare feet. He didn’t fail to notice the way you twisted your fingers in the folds of your tunic, a nervous habit. He had grown so accustomed to examining his opponents in the arena over the years and taking their measure in an instant that there wasn’t a single move you made that escaped his attention.

“Fine.” he replied, hating how sharp and short his words sounded. He was so used to being a brute, but he didn’t want to be one with you. Trying to soften his tone slightly, he said, “I’ve been fine. How have you been?” His eyes quickly scanned your arms for any visible signs of Aurelia’s brutality. He noted one small bruise near your elbow, which made him grit his teeth and tighten his grip on the bowl you’d handed him, but otherwise you looked to be physically unharmed.

“I’ve been fine, too,” you replied, glancing up at him and piercing him with a small smile.

“Good. That’s good,” Gallus murmured, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, which made a growing sense of panic rise within him.

He was saved at that moment, however, when Phoenix called out to him, “Come on, Gallus. We haven’t got all morning.” She tapped her foot against the ground, feigning impatience as he sheepishly shuffled forward for his breakfast. “There you are,” she said, scooping a hearty helping of the bean stew into his bowl. “And take a round of bread, too. Sabina made it just this morning,” she added with a knowing grin.

He could feel his ears growing hot at his friend’s pointed comment, quickly snatching up a small loaf of bread and mumbling his thanks before turning to look for a place to sit down.

“Why don’t you ask Sabina to sit with you?” Phoenix asked in a low voice, grinning slyly. “Titus wants us to help with the physicals, so we’ll be here all morning,” she told him, merriment sparkling in those dark eyes of hers.

With that, she sauntered off to sit with the rest of the Pugiones, taking a spot in between Caius and Carnifex.

Clearing his throat, Gallus slowly approached you, noting the way you looked like a skittish deer as you clearly debated what you were supposed to do without Phoenix right by your side. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the friendship the two of you shared. He knew that Phoenix looked out for you, and it was good for her to have a friend in the household as well, one she could trust the way she clearly trusted you.

“Would you, um, like to sit down…with me?” Gallus asked awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. Could he sound any more like a giant oaf?

Your eyes widened a fraction as you looked up at him, but you nodded your head, following behind him as he found a comfortable spot for the two of you on the grass, just a few feet away from where the others were sitting. Felix was loudly rejoicing about how good the stew was.

Starving after an early morning of exercises, Gallus began to swallow down the stew quickly, though he flushed in embarrassment when he noticed the way you were politely averting your gaze, picking at the grass near your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, lowering his bowl and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I really am a barbarian, aren’t I? I’m not used to eating my meals in front of a lady,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and chest burned red.

“Oh, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Please, enjoy your breakfast. Don’t take any pains on my account. I’m not a lady. I’m just a slave,” you said, lifting one shoulder in a meek shrug.

His heart broke for you in that moment because he could tell that you really believed what you said. There was no guile in your tone, no self-pity or victimhood. You had resigned yourself to this life, to the way most people saw you. You had accepted it.

But he wouldn’t.

“No,” he said firmly, waiting until he had your full attention before he went on. “You’re a lady, Sabina. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”

You seemed embarrassed at that, lowering your head so that your hair shielded part of your face, hiding it from view. But he caught, for just the briefest moment, a tiny smile curving your lips and he felt more triumphant than all the times he’d been declared the victor in the arena.

“Thank you, Gallus,” you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips warming him from the inside out.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he changed the subject, lifting up the small loaf of bread he’d taken with his stew. “Phoenix said you baked the bread this morning,” he noted, tearing off a piece and taking a bite. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted sourdough so good before in his life. “It’s delicious,” he complimented, his words ringing with sincerity.

“Thank you,” you murmured again, looking pleased. “My mother taught me how to make bread when I was a little girl,” you told him, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure she would be very proud of what you’ve made today,” he told you truthfully, taking another bite.

“I hope so,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip. Your voice had gone much softer now. “She’s gone now.”

He felt the bread lodge in his throat, suddenly tasting like a stone. What had he been thinking, saying something so stupid as that? Feeling like an apology wouldn’t be adequate, he instead said, “Mine, too.”

His eyes met yours and he could see a flicker of empathy there, of understanding. “I’m sorry.” The words, so trite from anyone else, sounded like a cooling balm coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured, feeling closer to you at that moment than he had with anybody else in a very long time.

Glancing down at the half-eaten food still resting in his lap, it suddenly dawned on him that you were sitting there empty-handed. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten enough today?” he asked, feeling once again like a giant oaf.

You waved away his concern with one hand, smiling slightly. “I had something this morning,” you assured him. Something about the way you said it, however, made him feel like you were evading the question.

“But are you hungry?” he repeated, indicating the large pot of stew that still rested on the grass behind him.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head. He didn’t fail to notice the way your lower lip caught between your teeth. “That food is for the gladiators.”

Ah, so that was it. You’d been told you couldn’t eat the food that was prepared for the men of the ludus. Frowning, he tore off a huge hunk of the bread you yourself had made and handed it to you. “Eat,” he told you.

“Gallus, really, I don’t—”

“Eat,” he said again, his tone brooking no argument. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you sighed, but slowly began nibbling on the bread. You were trying to hide it, but he could sense that you were much hungrier than you had been letting on.

“If you’re ever hungry, you can take the food right off my plate,” he said suddenly, looking directly into your eyes as he spoke. “I mean it. They give me more than I can eat anyway.”

“I suppose they need their champion well fed,” you replied, rewarding him with a smile that could have rivaled the sun.

He smiled in return. It felt like a long time since he had last done that. “I suppose so,” he conceded. “But a lady deserves her fill, too.”

You giggled at his words, and he felt his chest puff up with pride. It felt like a private joke now that the two of you shared, something that only you and he would understand. He liked that. He liked that very much.

The two of you sat together in comfortable silence for a while, Gallus enjoying simply being in your presence. He finished his bean stew, while you took small bites of bread. Occasionally, snatches of conversation from the others would float over towards you, but Gallus was more than happy to stay lost in this little private world, just you and him.

“That’s healing quite nicely,” you said suddenly, pointing at the long scar now running across his chest—the injury that had first brought your worlds colliding together. The skin was still a bit raised and tender to the touch in certain spots, but it was healing over as well as could be expected, given the nature of it. “Titus really is a master medicus.”

“Just don’t let him hear you say that,” Gallus whispered conspiratorially, a hint of humor sparking to life in his dark eyes. “He already thinks he knows everything and loves to boss us around. I shudder to think what your praise would do to him.”

Your praise, he had come to realize, would be enough to bring a dying man back from the brink of the Underworld.

“He might end up as cocky as Carnifex,” you teased, the playfulness in your tone catching him off guard as much as your words did.

Stunned, Gallus let out a loud laugh, which caught the startled attention of the others for a moment. He so rarely laughed that it was a sound everyone, himself included, was unaccustomed to.

“Phoenix is starting to rub off on you, I see,” he chuckled, lowering his voice.

“Maybe a little bit,” you grinned, nodding your head.

The both of you glanced over to where the others were still sitting, engaged in some conversation that had them all particularly animated. Gallus couldn’t help but notice the way Carnifex had wedged himself closer to Phoenix’s side, their knees brushing together. And Phoenix was doing nothing to push him away. A small furrow developed between his brows as he frowned, but he was distracted from wondering further about what was happening between them when your voice suddenly brought him back to the present moment.

“What happened here?”

Turning his head, he was a bit startled to see that you had moved closer to him, just a handbreadth away from him now. He was trained to sense even the smallest movements around him. How had you managed to be so stealthy that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching? Your movements were so delicate and light, like the fluttering of a dove’s wings.

Torn away from his private musings, he realized that you were indicating a large bruise on his shoulder, the dark purple of his mottled skin slowly giving way to a yellowish-green.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured you, brushing it off. “I got hit with a shield the other day during a practice bout. Pollux is a fierce opponent,” he said, admiration coloring his voice as he spoke of his fellow Pugio.

“You respect them,” you said, your hands resting in your lap as you looked at him straight on. It was a statement, not a question. “Your fellow gladiators, I mean.”

“Of course,” Gallus nodded, setting his empty bowl down in the grass beside him. “Even my opponents. I know that none of us chose this life. We’re all just doing what we must to survive. I can’t begrudge a man doing all he can to cling to his life.”

He noticed the shudder that ran down your spine, didn’t fail to pick up on the way your chin dipped downward and you began picking at a loose thread on your tunic. “It must be hard,” you murmured, your voice so low he almost missed what you said. “Having to—having to take a man’s life just to keep your own.”

Swallowing, he nodded his head once, sharply. “It never gets any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your hand reached out and came to rest over his, your delicate fingers pressing warmth into his large, scarred ones.

He suddenly found it very hard to breathe, or to form a coherent thought. But he managed to gruffly mutter, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I’m sorry all the same,” you countered, piercing him once more with those large, innocent eyes of yours.

You would be the death of him.

The private little world the two of you had been occupying was all too soon invaded by the sound of Titus’ arrival, everyone scrambling to clean up the remains of their morning meal when they realized that Atticus had come with the medicus, evidently wanting to oversee the examinations himself.

He always did keep a careful eye on his investments, Gallus thought with disgust.

Phoenix quickly dusted herself off and grabbed you by the hand, the two of you keeping your heads down and your mouths shut, doing whatever Titus asked of you.

It was a long morning, the evaluations feeling even more thorough and intense than they usually were. Gallus’ frown grew deeper as he heard Atticus bark orders at Titus, forcing the old man to push the gladiators even harder, nearly to the breaking point for some of the newer recruits.

You and Phoenix were providing water to the men, and a soft word of encouragement when Atticus was out of hearing range. No matter where you were, Gallus’ eyes sought you out, following you around the compound like a hapless beggar, desperate for even a glimpse of you.

When he turned and caught sight of Atticus staring intently at him, however, he stiffened and hardened his expression, standing up straight and gazing ahead with a look of feigned disinterest.

Atticus knew better than just about anybody how to sniff out weaknesses and exploit them for his own gain. Gallus had seen him do it time and time again in the years since he’d been forced into his ludus. It had always been easy for him to make sure that Atticus never found any weakness in him, mainly because he cared so little whether he lived or died. There was nothing, he thought, that Atticus could take from him that hadn’t already been taken, nothing he could hold over his head.

Until now.

Atticus was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. And if he had noticed the way Gallus had been watching you, then nothing would stop him from sussing out what you were coming to mean to him.

He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Gallus might not be able to protect you from Aurelia’s clutches in the villa, but he would protect you from Atticus’ schemes.

For the rest of that morning and into the afternoon, Gallus pointedly avoided meeting your gaze or looking in your general direction at all. Let Atticus believe him to be completely indifferent to you, just as he had been completely indifferent to all the other pretty slave girls that had been paraded in front of him throughout the years. It was the best way—the only way—to keep you safe.

But late at night, as he lay alone in his bed, his thoughts were consumed by you and only you. That longing, that ache, that had so often plagued him in the middle of the night—the one he thought he had long since rooted out of his heart—was back with a vengeance, screaming out to him in agony.

And when he did finally manage to fall into a fitful sleep, he dreamed of nothing but the feel of soft, delicate hands, their touch as gentle as the flutter of a dove’s wings.

As the days and weeks passed, he realized that the only time he knew peace was when he looked upon your face.

Only you quieted the desperation screaming inside him.

Only you.

The next few weeks passed in relative peace within the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Dominus and Domina had been attending parties on the Palatine more frequently, often until the early hours of the morning, which meant that Domina in particular had less time for tormenting the household servants.

It also meant that you and Phoenix, as well as the others, had a bit more freedom to come and go as you pleased around the villa once all your chores were done. As the stewards of the household, Hrodebert and the other men who ran things were always conscious to make sure that everything was kept up to your master’s exacting standards, but they were also more than willing to turn the other way when those who had performed their duties sought a small break.

For you and Phoenix, it meant that you had the ability to spend more time with your friends in the ludus without worrying about the watchful eye and  jealous rage of Domina.

In the time since you had started working more regularly in and around the ludus, your friendship with the Pugiones had grown stronger and stronger. Where you had once been terrified to go near gladiators, now you found yourself counting the fiercest fighters in Rome among your closest friends and protectors. They were like the older brothers you had never had. Seeing the way that Phoenix interacted with them, and knowing now that she had lost her own brothers, you knew she felt the same.

You loved them all, but you would be lying if you said that each time you stepped foot onto the ludus’ grounds, your eyes didn’t immediately seek out one above all the others.

Gallus.

In the weeks since the two of you had sat together over his breakfast, your relationship with the famed gladiator had continued to grow in ways that set your heart aflutter. You’d been concerned that day of the physical examinations, when Gallus had refused to even look at you after you’d shared such a personal revelations with one another, but the next time you’d seen him, with none around but Titus and the others, he’d smiled at you once more and you felt yourself breathing easier again.

With Dominus and Domina being more frequently occupied outside the household, it gave you and Gallus more opportunities to speak with one another over the meals you served him or while you were tending to his injuries. You found that you were no longer afraid to share your thoughts with him, and you were pleased to discover that his smiles and laughter were becoming more frequent.

At night, when you came to deliver his evening meal to his cell, you even managed to sit with him for a little while, when Atticus and Aurelia were out of the house.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked one night, the first time he had ever done so. Normally, you just dropped off his meal with a smile and then hurried back to the villa with Phoenix. “Just for a little while,” he quickly amended, blushing. You could tell he didn’t want you to think he intended for you to spend the night with him, which made your own skin grow warm.

Since your master and mistress were out for the evening, you nodded and stepped inside, keeping him company as he ate.

“I figured I could still use some more practice, eating in front of a lady,” he told you with a small, lopsided grin that warmed your heart.

After that night, whenever Atticus and Aurelia were out for the evening, you sat with him in his cell, the two of you talking of nothing and everything as he ate his dinner, his table manners growing more civilized with each passing visit.

“I think you’ve finally mastered eating in front of a lady,” you joked one evening, your eyes crinkling as you smiled at him.

He smiled back, his dark eyes glowing like amber in the light of the candle beside him. “And you’ve finally mastered referring to yourself as a lady,” he teased in return, a warmth in his expression that turned your insides to mush.

“We’re both learning,” you murmured softly, surprised when he pushed part of his meal towards you. “What’s this?”

“Your dinner,” he told you, waving his hand over the food. “I told you, they feed me more than I can eat, and I don’t think they feed you nearly enough.”

You bit your lower lip, a pang of hunger in your belly confirming his words. You hesitated for only a moment before tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the barley and bean stew that Alba had prepared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, savoring what you could of your shared meal.

“You’re welcome,” Gallus said softly, a hint of some emotion in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you easily fell into a routine in the evenings when you were free from the watch of your masters, sharing meals together and enjoying one another’s company for longer and longer stretches of time until you finally had to force yourself to leave, Phoenix always meeting you near the gate of the ludus.

“Where does Phoenix go, while you’re here with me?” Gallus asked curiously, knowing that the two of you always came together to deliver meals to the Pugiones.

“She visits with the others,” you explained, laughing as you told him about the coins your friend had managed to win from Pollux and Felix after a successful game of knucklebones.

Tonight, as you and Gallus enjoyed a vegetable broth that Alba had spent all day preparing, you took stock of the increased amount of food on the tray you’d delivered. In fact, you had noticed over the course of the past several days that the portions of all the gladiators’ meals had been steadily increasing.

“Is Alba afraid you’re all starving over here? She keeps putting more and more food on your plates,” you joked, taking a small bite of bread as you gazed across the small table at him.

Instead of laughing as you thought he might, Gallus’ expression sobered and he dropped his bread beside his bowl. “The summer festivals will be starting soon,” he said in a low voice, as if that would be explanation enough.

When you simply blinked in confusion, he added, “That means more rich Romans will be trying to win the people’s—and the Emperor’s—favor by sponsoring games.”

As his meaning sank in, you felt your stomach hollow out. Suddenly nauseous, you let your own piece of bread fall back down to the table as well.

Besides that first day that you’d met Gallus, when he’d been so horribly injured in a fight, you hadn’t seen him or any of the other Pugiones actually leave the compound for a bout in the Colosseum. Some of the newer men had gone—many of whom had not returned—but never the champions of the ludus. Phoenix had explained to you once that because they were so popular and sought after, Atticus had the luxury of being more choosy about which games he enrolled them in. The Pugiones had earned enough fame and status that they were considered a major draw in the arena—and Atticus used that to his advantage to charge a hefty price for their public appearances.

It had been a couple months now since any of them had fought publicly, but with the summer festivals coming up, that meant more elaborate games would be hosted in the Colosseum. And those who sought to curry the most favor would pay whatever money they had to to ensure the best.

Gallus and the others would be fighting again soon.

Seeing the understanding dawn on your face, Gallus winced slightly. “They always start to increase our rations when we have to prepare for the games. We train for longer hours, and we have to be at our best when we fight in the arena.” His voice was flat, unfeeling, as he explained it to you.

“So it will be soon then?” you questioned, hearing the emotion catch in your voice.

“We haven’t been informed of anything yet, but I would guess within the next month or so,” Gallus nodded, his shoulders drooping slightly as he lowered his head.

“You’ll be fine,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “You and the others, you’ll all be fine. You always come back,” you murmured, trying to fight the rising tide of anxiety within you. “You’ll come back.”

Gallus lifted his head and met your gaze over the flickering candlelight, something intense and inscrutable in his eyes. “I’ll come back,” he promised, nodding his head slowly.

The two of you sat and finished your meal in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts and fears. When all the food was finally gone, you stood on trembling legs, knowing that Phoenix would probably be waiting for you and that you should be getting back to the villa.

Gallus stood as soon as you did, his large frame dwarfing you in the already tight confines of his cell. “Sabina,” he murmured, reaching out and lightly brushing his fingertips against your arm.

Unbidden tears started burning the backs of your eyes, but you looked up at him anyway, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” he told you, squeezing your arm gently. He let go a second later, as if afraid to touch you for too long.

You just nodded, knowing your voice would betray you if you spoke.

“Get back safely,” he whispered, a rugged tenderness in his voice as he walked you to the door. “And get some rest.” You could feel his fingers gently catching on the ends of your hair, which you’d worn loose tonight.

“Good night, Gallus,” you said softly, gazing up at him one last time.

“Good night, Sabina.”

And then you were gone, into the night.

You quickly approached the gate that led back to the villa, assuming Phoenix would already be there waiting for you. The apology you’d been conjuring up died on your lips, however, when you realized that she wasn’t there. Frowning in confusion, you glanced around, wondering if perhaps she was playing a trick on you, hiding behind some shrubbery. You knew for a fact that she never would have left the ludus without you.

For a moment, you grew worried, but then you let out a breath and a soft laugh, figuring that she had also lost track of the time and was probably still swindling Pollux and Felix out of some pocket change.

Doubling back, you approached the cells of the other Pugiones, assuming that Phoenix must still be inside with some of them. As you headed towards Pollux’s and Felix’s cells, however, you suddenly caught a snatch of light coming from Carnifex’s cell, where the door was the tiniest bit ajar. You thought nothing of it until you suddenly heard Phoenix’s voice coming from within. Letting out a sigh of relief, you stepped closer to the door, but froze when the conversation happening inside became clearer.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s dangerous?” Phoenix whispered, a worried edge in her tone.

Surprised, you glanced through the small crack in the door and were shocked to see your friend’s hands splayed across the blonde gladiator’s bare chest, while his hands were wrapped around her waist.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?” Carnifex countered, keeping his voice down only when Phoenix pressed a hand to his lips.

“You should care,” she hissed, groaning in frustration. “Hrodebert already figured it out. Do you really want someone else to find out and have to bear the burden of knowing?”

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous and I don’t care who knows,” Carnifex muttered stubbornly. “All I know is that I want you.” And with that, he swallowed up any further arguments Phoenix would have made with a kiss, his fingers buried in her dark hair as she melted against him.

You couldn’t help it. You gasped, your eyes widening as you clapped a hand over your mouth, stupefied.

Letting out horrified gasps of their own, Phoenix and Carnifex whirled around, catching sight of you at the door.

“I’m sorry!” you whispered, turning in a panic and fleeing back towards the villa.

“Sabina!” Phoenix called after you, the sound of her running footsteps catching up to you before you could reach the gate.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you told her, fearing she would be angry with you. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—”

“Sh, sh, sh,” Phoenix whispered, covering your mouth with both her hands until she could tell that you had calmed down somewhat. Slowly lowering her hands, she looked into your eyes, remorse and sadness evident there even under the dark cover of night. “It’s alright, Sabina. I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said softly. She glanced over both her shoulders before saying, “Come with me.”

Taking your hand, Phoenix pulled you through the gate, but instead of heading towards the house, she pulled you in the direction of the small bathhouse that Atticus and Aurelia had recently renovated on their property. Checking that it was empty of any of the other servants, she dragged you inside and lit a candle, settling you both down on a bench fit into an alcove in the wall.

“Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you apologized again, mortified beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I just went to the gate and you weren’t there and I thought that maybe—”

Phoenix held up a hand to cut you off, silencing you with that single gesture. “Sabina, you don’t have to apologize. This is my fault. I lost track of time and I was being stupid. I—well, obviously you know what you saw,” she sighed, twisting her hands in her lap.

“H-how long? Have you and Carnifex—?” To say you were stunned would be an understatement. But as the shock slowly wore off, you were suddenly reminded of all the small signs you had noticed and failed to pay much attention to, the hidden looks and innocent touches, the way their eyes seemed to communicate without saying a word.

“It started before you even came to the household,” Phoenix confessed, running a hand through her dark hair.

Your eyes widened at that revelation. It had been going on the entire time you’d known her, and yet you’d never put the pieces together.

Realization struck you. 

“Is that where you go at night? The reason why you come back to our quarters so late sometimes?” you asked, thinking how much more sense it made now.

“Sometimes I really am helping Hrodebert with the accounts,” she replied, looking ashamed. “But…yes.”

You sat back and took a deep breath, letting that information wash over you. How had you not figured it out? Why had Phoenix not told you? You felt a small stab of hurt. You thought the two of you shared almost everything with each other.

“I would never tell,” you murmured, looking over at her crestfallen face. “If you had told me, Phoenix, I promise I would have kept your secret.”

“I know that,” Phoenix rushed to tell you, taking your hand in between hers and pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of it. “Oh, I know that. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you that I didn’t tell you. It’s because I wanted to protect you. And everyone else. I didn’t want Hrodebert to know either. He just figured it out.”

You looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would you not telling us protect us? Protect us from what?”

“From having to lie for us,” Phoenix whispered miserably. “If Atticus—or Aurelia—ever suspected, if they started asking questions—I don’t want any of you to have to make up lies to protect us.”

“Why would they even care? What concern is it to them?” you demanded, feeling a growing anger on behalf of your friend, that she had to sneak around and lie like this, just to feel safe.

Phoenix let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, my sweet Sabina. You really are too good and innocent for this world. Atticus and Aurelia prey on weakness. They seek it out and they exploit it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If they knew what’s been going on between me and Carnifex—if they found out—”

“Do you love him?” you asked, cocking your head to the side as you gazed into your friend’s eyes.

Phoenix froze at your question, avoiding your eyes as she leaned back and ran a tired hand down her face. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m such a fool,” she whispered, her voice filled with pain.

“But do you love him?” you pressed, thinking of the way you’d seen her clinging to him in his cell.

“I—I shouldn’t love him,” she whimpered brokenly, burying her face in her hands. “It’s better for the both of us if I don’t love him. And he shouldn’t love me either. But I just—we—we can’t stay away from each other.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you murmured gently, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting embrace. You understood what she was saying. As hard as you tried, you didn’t think you could stay away from Gallus either, even if your relationship with him wasn’t quite the same as Phoenix’s with Carnifex.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix confessed in a small voice, holding tightly to you. “I’m scared of what will happen if anyone else finds out.”

“What would Atticus and Aurelia do?” you wondered, suddenly feeling terrified to know the answer.

“They’re so cruel, especially that witch Aurelia,” Phoenix whispered, not directly answering your question. “She can’t have the Pugiones, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have them either. Before you came—” She seemed to shudder with the memory of it.

“What?” you asked, biting down on your lower lip. “What happened?”

Phoenix took a deep breath, sitting up straight and turning to look at you head on. “Before you came, there was another gladiator in the Pugiones. His name was Rufus. He was one of the best. And he fell in love with one of the slave girls in the house, Niobe. They used to sneak around to see each other. But Aurelia figured out what was going on, that jealous bitch. All she had to do was say the word, and the very next day Atticus sold Niobe to a friend of his who was moving his family to Sicilia.”

You gasped in horror. How was it that Domina’s cruelty still didn’t fail to shock you?

“Rufus was heartbroken,” Phoenix went on, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t talk to anybody.”

“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, a bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

Phoenix let out a sigh, heavy-laden with sadness. “He told the others that he had nothing left to live for with Niobe gone. Nothing left to fight for. Atticus enrolled him in the Saturnalia games, and—and—Gallus told me later that he just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win. They say he died in the arena that day, but I know that he died long before that. He died the day they took Niobe away from him.”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes, your heart moved with sadness for the ill-fated lovers.

“That’s why I’m afraid,” Phoenix whispered, resting her head on your shoulder. “That’s why I don’t want anyone else having to bear the burden of knowing what’s going on between me and Carnifex. I should end things with him. I know I should. It would be safer for both of us. But I—”

“You love him,” you told her. It was no longer a question.

“Oh, Sabina,” Phoenix cried, her face crumpling as she started to sob in earnest.

“Sh, sh, it will be alright,” you cooed softly, pressing your cheek against the top of her head and rocking her back and forth slowly. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” you assured her, echoing the same words Gallus had told you earlier.

The two of you stayed a while longer in the bathhouse until Phoenix had composed herself enough to return to the main house.

Crawling onto your sleeping mats in the slave quarters, you curled up side by side, Phoenix slipping her hand into yours and squeezing tightly until she finally fell asleep.

Sleep evaded you, however. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you silently reflected on all you had learned of that night—the upcoming summer games, Phoenix and Carnifex’s affair, the story of Rufus and Niobe.

In the midst of it all, Gallus’ face kept flashing in your mind, his dark eyes shining brightly like they did whenever they were illuminated by candlelight, his scars standing out sharply against his tanned skin.

The peaceful picture was suddenly replaced by a horrific scene as your mind conjured up images of him being cut down in the arena, slaughtered during the summer games as Atticus and Aurelia laughed.

He just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win.

A cold chill ran down your spine and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to force away those savage thoughts.

Gallus had promised you that he would come back, that everything would be fine. It had to be. It just had to be.

But would it?

Much like doomed Rufus, you were no longer sure you would know how to go on in a world without Gallus.

Closing your eyes and covering your face with your hands, you prayed to every god you could think of that you would never have to find out.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

IV. Kissed by Fire

SERIES MASTERLIST

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 chapter ended up being a beast to write! It’s very Hannix-centered, so that you can have a little bit more context and background regarding Carnifex and Phoenix’s relationship. But fear not, for there are hints of Gallus and Sabina as well, and we’ll be back to our main protagonists in the next chapter!

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Explicit sexual content, slavery in the ancient world, gladiatorial training/combat, discussion of minor injuries, brief language, slight angst, idiots in love, alternating point of view.

She hadn’t meant to get tangled up with him. She really hadn’t. Yet here she was.

Phoenix prided herself on being a rational, intelligent, level-headed woman. Perhaps it was her Greek heritage, or maybe it was the fact that she had learned long ago that the less you said and the more you listened, the better off you would be in this world. Either way, in the years since she had been robbed of her freedom, she had learned to rely on no one but herself, save for a few trusted friends for whom she would gladly lay down her life. She didn’t expose herself to unnecessary dangers, and she didn’t enmesh herself in anything that would make life harder than it already was. She avoided complications at all costs.

Until him.

She hadn’t been able to stand him from the very first day he’d entered the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. A great champion, Dominus had called him while gloating about his latest acquisition during a dinner party. A mighty warrior. The only gladiator he had ever seen who could give even Gallus a run for his money.

Phoenix knew then who he was speaking of—Carnifex the Gaul. He was the opponent who had given Gallus the scar on his shoulder, the one whom her old friend detested so wholly and complained so bitterly about whenever they were pitted against one another.

She only had to know him for a day before she understood the sentiment.

Carnifex, the man so named because he had somehow managed to survive the hangman’s noose when his village in Gaul was put to Roman flames, was the smuggest man she had ever known. And that was saying something, considering she’d spent the better part of her life catering to the whims and fancies of some of the most spoiled men the Roman Empire had to offer. He was arrogant. Obnoxious. More in love with himself than Narcissus, and quick to throw all his fellow gladiators to the lions if it meant more fame and glory for himself.

He made her blood boil.

And what was worse? He knew it.

Almost from the moment they first met, Carnifex seemed to make it his personal mission to get under her skin as often as he possibly could. Whether it was winking at her from across the training grounds while she was working around the ludus, making disparaging comments about Gallus and the others when he knew she was within earshot, or smirking skeptically when she came to assist Titus with the gladiators’ medical needs, he seemed to know all the ways to make her grow hot with a rage so potent she almost thought it would choke her one day.

“Has he always been so unbearable?” Phoenix huffed in annoyance as she bandaged one of Gallus’ hands one day after a morning training session. Carnifex stood about twenty feet away from them, bragging to the younger, more inexperienced gladiators about his most recent victory.

“Always,” Gallus muttered darkly, frowning in the other gladiator’s direction for a moment before shifting his attention back to her. “Trust me, he hasn’t changed one bit since his arrival here. If anything, he’s only gotten worse. Keep your distance from him, as much as you can.”

Phoenix knew without having to ask what Gallus really meant when he shot her a pointed look. It was no secret among the household slaves that Carnifex was notorious for bedding the prettiest slave girls. And because he was a Pugio, one of Atticus’ champions, he got his pick of the litter. He never lacked for any willing volunteers either. She couldn’t count how many times she’d witnessed giggling, simpering girls tiptoe out of their slave quarters in the middle of the night, only to return a few hours later with hushed, breathless stories of what an incredible lover Carnifex the Gaul was. The others may have listened with bated breath, but Phoenix just covered her ears, shut her eyes, and tried to block them all out.

“After all these years, do you really think so little of me that you suppose I would fall into bed with a man like him?” Phoenix demanded, tying off Gallus’ bandage with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Gallus winced slightly, a chastened expression in his dark eyes as he looked at her. “No,” he replied firmly, and she knew he meant it. “It’s him I’m wary of, not you. I just don’t want him getting any ideas in his head where you’re concerned, thinking that he can—”

“He won’t,” she cut him off, glancing over her shoulder at where Carnifex stood, having moved on from regaling his captive audience with tales of his conquests in the arena to tales of his conquests in bed. She felt the distaste on the back of her tongue like sour milk as she turned back to Gallus. “Trust me, he suffers from no lack of female company in this household.”

Gallus didn’t look so certain, but he let the matter drop.

His rivalry with Carnifex, however, was not as easy to let go of. Even as the months wore on, the two of them couldn’t seem to let go of the deep-seated tension and competition that had marked their relationship for as long as they had known one another. Being members of the same ludus, they no longer competed against one another for the crowds, but within the training arena, it was another matter entirely. Phoenix watched each day as they brutally battered one another, two powerful men refusing to cede the upper hand.

On a few occasions, however, the battering went beyond mere combat training. Brawls weren’t uncommon among gladiators—they were basically an occupational hazard—but between Gallus and Carnifex, they had a tendency to turn ugly and to turn ugly fast.

Atticus greatly frowned upon disorder in his ludus, so whenever a fight broke out between two of his greatest champions, everyone else was quick to step in and stop it. Magnus, Pollux, Felix, Caius, even Titus, were always on call to tear the two of them apart when things got too vicious.

On a few occasions, when she’d been near at hand, even Phoenix had gotten involved. No matter what had happened, or who had done what to whom, she always gave Gallus her attention first.

“Sure, take his side, like you always do,” Carnifex spat one day, nursing what was sure to be a black eye.

She was startled by the heat in his voice. As much as he seemed to love tormenting her, his tone was always teasing and borderline playful. But today, it sounded like there was something akin to anger in it. Hands still resting on Gallus’ shoulders, she turned to look at him and didn’t fail to notice the way his jaw tightened when he looked back at her, his eyes flickering down to her hands and then flitting back up to her face. Something burned in those green eyes of his that she couldn’t quite name.

“Forget it,” he snapped, kicking aside his sword and shield as he pushed past the others and stormed back to his cell.

She cursed herself for not being able to get that encounter out of her head for days afterward. What had upset Carnifex so deeply? Why had he looked at her like that? And why did it seem that his eyes now followed her whenever she was around the ludus, especially when she was talking to Gallus?

He drove her mad. 

Truly. She must have been going mad. That was the only reason she could come up with to explain why such an infuriating, insufferable man as Carnifex the Gaul was taking up more and more space in her head. At night, when the other girls giggled about his smile, she couldn’t help but recall the way it had touched his eyes when he’d turned it on her after his training bout. When they whispered about his muscles, she couldn’t fail to remember the way the sun glistened off his slick skin as he trained, his muscles rippling as he hefted his sword and shield with an ease almost too great to be believed. And when they gossiped about his talents in bed, she burned with an ache that settled deep in the pit of her stomach, pooling between her thighs until she squeezed her eyes shut and forced her traitorous body to go to sleep.

This was Carnifex they were talking about. Cocky, selfish, arrogant Carnifex. She would not allow herself to become another one of his playthings.

Yet each time she was around him, she realized with horror, her defenses seemed to crumble more and more. One afternoon, while she was handing out water to the men, he even managed to coax a smile out of her.

“Look at that,” he whistled softly, taking a satisfied gulp of water. “I finally managed to make the Grecian goddess smile.”

She flushed at his words, mentally kicking herself for it all the while. “I am capable of it, you know,” she shot back, arching a dark eyebrow as she gazed up at him.

“Perhaps, but I’ve never seen it,” he returned evenly, his green eyes sparkling in the midday sun.

“Maybe that’s because you don’t do anything to make me smile,” she offered, rolling her shoulders back and standing up straighter.

He leaned in a little closer, his breath tickling her cheek as he whispered, “Until now.”

She couldn’t help it. She blushed. And he smiled.

Damn him.

He got under her skin and he knew it. He enjoyed it.

From that day on, the two of them danced around each other, sparring with words the same way he and Gallus sparred with swords. And though she would never admit it out loud, Phoenix enjoyed the challenge of matching wits with Carnifex. He kept her on her toes, always pushing back and eliciting her own competitive streak as she strove to outsmart him.

Whenever Pollux or Felix or Caius or Gallus shot them sideways glances, eyebrows raised or silent looks exchanged among them, she always scoffed and brushed it aside. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Carnifex, and there never would be.

Or so she thought.

She hadn’t intended to be over at the ludus that afternoon, too busy helping to prepare the household for a banquet that Atticus and Aurelia would be hosting in a few days time, but Titus was currently tending to Atticus’ ailing mother and had asked her to look to any injuries the men sustained during their training bouts.

As she approached the small arena where Gallus and Carnifex were training, she could feel the tension pouring off them in waves. They were both sweating and grunting, looking the worse for wear but unwilling to yield or admit defeat.

“Give it up, Gallus,” Carnifex growled through gritted teeth, bringing his sword down sharply against Gallus’ shield. “One of these days, that good fortune of yours is going to run out.”

“Maybe so,” Gallus snarled in return, lunging at Carnifex and aiming his sword at his exposed side. The other man quickly parried, jumping back to avoid the disastrous blow. “But not today.”

Phoenix felt her heart squeeze inside her chest as she watched the two of them go at it, viciously swiping and pouncing at each other. She noticed, with a stab of fear, the way that Gallus was starting to slow down, his breathing growing more labored as he tired out.

Carnifex noticed it, too. Not failing to take this rare opportunity, he lunged forward and expertly knocked Gallus’ sword from his hand, kicking it across the sand so that he would be unable to retrieve it. Smirking, he held his own sword up and aimed it at Gallus’ throat.

Chest heaving, Gallus just stared down his opponent, his shield still strapped to his arm as he realized that there was no way out.

“And so Carnifex the Gaul bests the Barbarian from Britannia,” Carnifex crowed triumphantly, slowly edging closer. He threw his sword and shield down, as they always did at the end of their training matches. “Looks like Rome will get to cheer for another dead Briton.”

Phoenix froze at his words, a feeling of dread sinking into her bones as she looked over at Gallus. Her friend’s eyes darkened in an instant, and she knew that in his mind’s eye, he was seeing his mother and father, and all of his people who had been slaughtered at the hands of Rome. She watched as something inside him twisted and snapped, and then he was on Carnifex in an instant.

“You son of a bitch!” Gallus roared, lunging at the other man and knocking him to the ground with a loud crash, quickly gaining the attention of everyone else on the training grounds, who immediately came running.

Carnifex made an admirable effort to fend off the blows, but Gallus was in another place altogether as he punched and kicked at his rival, landing one harsh hit after another on the other man’s exposed chest and legs.

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking barbarian!” Carnifex thundered, trying to hit back. It was difficult for him to do so, however, considering Gallus had him pinned to the ground. “Get off me!”

“Gallus! Stop!” Pollux exclaimed, he and Caius rushing forward to try to put an end to the violence. Even with the both of them pulling at him, however, Gallus wouldn’t be stopped.

His eyes had clouded over, and Phoenix knew he was in that place, that place deep inside his mind where he retreated during his fights in the Colosseum, when every decision and every move he made meant the difference between life and death.

But this wasn’t a matter of life and death. At least, not for Gallus. But if someone didn’t do something, it might be a matter of life and death for Carnifex.

“Gallus!” Phoenix shouted over the din of the restless crowd of gladiators, pushing them out of the way as she ran towards the fray. “Gallus!” she screamed again, louder this time, crouching down on the ground behind Carnifex’s head, right in front of him. “Stop!”

The sound of her voice seemed to penetrate that dark place inside him because as he looked up at her, blinking slowly, his fists came to a halt. Gasping for air, he gazed down at a bruised and blooded Carnifex, swallowing when he realized the magnitude of what he had done.

Everyone was silent as Gallus rose on unsteady feet, breathing hard and staring at his bloody knuckles. Phoenix saw shame wash over her friend, and she felt a stab of empathy for him, but she continued to kneel beside Carnifex as Gallus looked from the other gladiators, to her, to the man lying on the ground at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly, turning away from all of them without another word as he stumbled towards his cell and slammed the door shut behind him.

“That damn savage,” Carnifex muttered angrily, slowly starting to sit up and wincing as he did so.

Instinctively, Phoenix reached out her hands to support his back, her eyes quickly scanning to assess for injuries, the way Titus had taught her.

Pollux, Caius, and Felix were quiet, even as the other gladiators began murmuring loudly among themselves, questioning aloud what had happened to set Gallus off so tremendously.

“Back to work!” Magnus shouted, corralling all of the less experienced men back to their training. “There’s nothing more for you to see here.”

“You’re hurt,” Phoenix muttered, running her hands over Carnifex’s tender and swollen flesh.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, tensing under her touch.

“You don’t know that,” Phoenix shot back sternly. “Gallus really did a number on you. I have to check you out and make sure you’re okay.”

Normally, she was sure he would have made some ridiculous comment in response to her words, but today, he just looked at her and frowned. “No,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” Phoenix told him stubbornly. Two could play at this game. Turning to her friends, she said, “Felix, Caius, can you help me get him to his cell?”

As they stepped forward, however, Carnifex held up a hand and slowly rose to his feet on his own. “I’m not an invalid. I can get there myself.”

“If you see Titus, let him know what happened,” Phoenix called over her shoulder as she began walking with Carnifex, albeit a bit slowly, across the training grounds and towards his cell.

Once they were inside, Phoenix took charge. Tossing her dark braid over her shoulder, she closed the door behind them and ordered, “Sit,” pointing at his bed in the corner of the small room. She’d been in his cell countless times before, to serve him meals or tend to his wounds, but never by herself. She had never been more aware of that bed.

Carnifex frowned again, but did as she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and spreading his large hands out on his thighs, trying not to think too much about the pain that was throbbing in his limbs.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him in a calm, cool voice, stepping closer to him and carefully examining the discolored marks that would soon be bruises all over his body. “And tell me the truth.”

Swallowing back the lie he’d been about to tell, Carnifex sighed quietly as his green eyes searched her face. “I’m in pain. Mostly in my shoulders and my side,” he admitted, although reluctantly. “I might say a lot of things about Gallus, but the man knows how to throw a proper punch,” he grimaced, wincing as Phoenix pressed down on a particularly tender spot on his chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, trying to be more gentle as she prodded and poked at him. “You said your side? Here?” she asked, resting her hand on a spot midway down his body.

He shook his head, reaching up and placing his large, calloused hand over hers. “No. Here,” he clarified, taking her hand and moving it downwards, until it rested just above his hip.

Somehow the room, already quite small to begin with, seemed to grow much smaller as the air between them grew heavy.

Clearing her throat, Phoenix carefully ran her fingers over the spot he had indicated, feeling for any swollenness that would indicate an internal injury. Thankfully, she found none.

“Well, luck seems to be on your side,” she murmured, glancing up and realizing with a slight start that his face was much closer to hers than she had first thought. “No broken bones and no deep damage, from what I can tell, though I’ll make sure to let Titus know to check you out. You’ll just be sore and have some serious bruising, but nothing you’re not used to.”

He was quiet for a few moments, absorbing her words as he continued to stare at her. “Why are you helping me?” he finally questioned.

“What do you mean?” Phoenix asked, taken aback. “That’s what I do. It’s one of my jobs.”

“You know what I mean,” he said in a low voice, which made her lean in even closer to be able to hear him. “This isn’t an injury I sustained from training. It’s because of a stupid fight I got into with Gallus. And you always take Gallus’ side when we fight. So why are you here, and not with him?”

“Gallus will be fine,” Phoenix murmured. She didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he had fared much better in this fight than Carnifex had. “You were the one who bore the brunt of it.”

“Which was my fault, right? Because of what I said? I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, his green eyes boring into her brown ones.

Phoenix took a breath, trying to organize her jumbled thoughts. “What you said—it wasn’t kind, but Gallus shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. I know why he did, but he shouldn’t have. He could have really hurt you.”

“He would have, if you hadn’t stopped him,” Carnifex pointed out, his expression indecipherable. “He listens to you.”

“We’re friends,” Phoenix said, as if that explained everything. “But just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I can’t admit when he’s done something he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have hurt you like that. But you shouldn’t have said what you said either. Gallus has known more pain than you can imagine.”

“I have known pain, too,” he replied sharply, a trace of bitterness creeping into his tone that she had never heard before.

“I know,” she whispered. “As have I. As have we all. You and Gallus have far more in common than you know, if you would just put aside this petty rivalry.”

Carnifex just waved his hand and turned his face away from her, staring at the wall.

Sighing, Phoenix went to take a step back, but suddenly Carnifex’s head was whipping back around again, his eyes trained on her.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, looking oddly bereft at the thought.

Her mouth felt dry as she looked back at him. “Is there some reason I should stay?”

He didn’t say anything in response to that, just wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist and tugged her towards him until their chests were pressed flush together. Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze flickered down to her lips. And then he kissed her. With one hand still wrapped around her wrist and the other cradling the back of her head, he kissed her with a hunger and an urgency that she could feel radiating through her body.

But before she could even process exactly what was happening, and what it was making her feel, he pulled back and released her, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have done that. I—”

She cut off his excuses as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her fingers raking through his hair, the hair that reminded her of the sandy beaches of home. It took only a second before she felt his arms snaking around her waist, holding her tightly as their mouths melded together, desperate for a taste of the other.

As the kiss deepened, he reached up and buried his fingers in her thick braid, tugging fiercely at it until her beautiful dark hair came loose, cascading down her back. She let out a soft moan at the feel of it, and that sound alone seemed to unlock something feral in them both.

Rising from his bed, Carnifex wrapped his arms more tightly around her small body, pressing her to his chest as the two of them stumbled backwards in a lust-fueled frenzy, grasping at each other as they fell back against the wall on the other side of the room. Another moan of pleasure slipped from Phoenix’s lips as she felt the rough stone against her back, Carnifex’s thick fingers buried in her hair as his kisses began trailing from her lips, across her jaw, and down her neck.

“Phoenix,” Carnifex gasped, peppering her skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “Oh, Phoenix,” he groaned, running his hands up and down her body as she gripped his hair and brought his lips crashing back down onto hers. “Been dying to taste you for so long,” he panted against her mouth, nipping at her chin as she angled her face upwards.

“And?” Phoenix murmured, her brain fuzzy with wanting as she trailed a hand down his naked chest. “Was it worth the wait?”

He chuckled despite himself, despite the circumstances. “Yes,” he nodded, lifting a hand to her face and brushing his thumb over her lips. “Most definitely yes. Need to taste more of you,” he moaned, latching onto her throat and sucking softly.

“More,” Phoenix echoed breathlessly, her eyes fluttering as her entire body pulsated with desire. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was crazy. She should leave before they crossed any more boundaries than they already had. But though the rational part of her knew that that was what would be best, she couldn’t force herself to do it. She couldn’t force herself to leave.

“More,” Carnifex whispered, his mouth covering hers as his hands slid up and began gently massaging her breasts through her thin tunic. He kneaded and caressed until her nipples hardened to sharp buds, standing out distinctly against the fabric that covered her. Pulling back just enough to look down and meet her eyes, he raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“Yes,” she moaned in reply, nodding her head slowly. “Yes.”

In an instant, his hands were on the knots at her shoulders, untying them with deft fingers, while she quickly discarded the cord around her waist. With just a gentle push, he sent her tunic pooling to the floor at her feet.

Naked and exposed, she stood before him and watched as he took the full measure of her. His eyes glowed with appreciation and she felt herself grow flushed under his scrutiny.

“You really are a goddess,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching up to cup her bare breasts in his hands. A shiver ran down her spine as he brushed his thumbs over her aching nipples. Eyes still on her, he lowered down slightly so that he could take one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the bud as he hummed softly.

Her breath hitched in pleasure and she reached up to rest one hand on the back of his head, her other bracing against his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut as he continued to suckle gently, releasing her breast with a wet pop before moving to the other one. He repeated the process once more, eliciting soft mewls of arousal from her. She could feel herself growing slick with desire for him, a fire kindling deep inside her belly.

Grasping her hips in both hands, Carnifex slowly lowered down to his knees, kissing his way down her stomach and nipping lightly at her smooth skin. She hoped he couldn’t feel the way she trembled beneath his touch, the way her entire body quivered with delight at every kiss.

When she felt his hot breath between her legs, her hips bucked slightly and she let out a strangled gasp, immediately opening her eyes and looking downwards.

“Carnifex, what are you—?”

“Sh,” he murmured, pressing lazy kisses to the front of her thighs. “I wanted to taste you, remember?”

At any other time, she would have been mortified by the moan that escaped her lips at his words, but at that moment, she was too far gone to care. Reaching down and burying her fingers in his hair, she let out a short gasp of surprise when he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder, supporting her with a hand still on her waist.

“I’ve got you,” he winked, turning his head and smothering her inner thigh with slow, sensual kisses that already had her seeing stars. How would she possibly survive what else he had in store? Heart pounding inside her chest, she watched as his kisses began to trail inward, closer and closer to her center, to the place where her body was crying out with need for him.

When he finally reached the thatch of dark curls between her legs, he reached up with an almost breathless reverence and parted her with his fingers, prompting a small cry to fall from her lips. “Fuck, look at you,” he said quietly, almost to himself, as he slowly trailed a finger downwards. “Already so wet for me.”

“No games,” she gasped out, fighting the urge to press his face between her thighs. “Just….just…oh,” she moaned, her knees going weak when he began tracing the tip of his finger around the tiny bud at her center, the one that made it hard to think or move or breathe when he was touching it like that.

“Just what?” he asked, looking up at her with faux innocence as he pressed a kiss between her legs. “Hm?”

“Just keep doing that,” Phoenix sighed, her head falling backward against the wall. She reached up to run her hands over her breasts, overwhelmed by the sensations suddenly overtaking her body.

“Whatever you say,” he smirked, suddenly leaning forward and diving facefirst, his tongue tracing a trail up and down her soaked opening. Spurred on by her cries of pleasure, he wrapped his lips around her bud and sucked, feeling a surge of triumph when she began tugging on his hair and babbling out his name. Feeling that she was close, he gripped her thigh more tightly and teased her entrance with two fingers, coating them with her slick before slowly easing them inside her tight walls.

“Carnifex!” Phoenix practically screamed, biting down roughly on her lower lip to keep from being overheard. She felt so full, his large fingers stroking her walls as his tongue worked over the source of the most exquisite pleasure she had ever experienced. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her hand against the back of his head and began grinding herself against his face, chasing the high that he was giving her.

“That’s it. That’s my girl,” he praised her, lapping up her wetness like a starving man. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Just let go. Let go,” he encouraged her, squeezing her thigh and increasing the speed of his fingers.

“I—I—I’m—oh, oh, oh!” Phoenix gasped, the fire inside her belly building and building and building until it felt that surely she would be consumed by the flames. But she wasn’t. Instead, that burning sensation came to a feverish crescendo, and then suddenly there were white spots floating in her vision as her body rode out the waves of pleasure that crashed through her, making it impossible to catch her breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you know that?” Carnifex almost growled, rising and lifting her into his arms. She was glad for it, because she was suddenly certain she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own. He kissed her then, despite the fact that his mouth and chin were drenched with her nectar, and she found, surprisingly, that she wasn’t at all offended by the taste of herself on his lips.

He laid her down on his bed, and when she looked up at him, she could see his arousal clear as day in the front of the short tunic he wore wrapped around his waist. Sitting up on her knees, she crawled towards the edge of the bed and reached for his waistband, looking up into his eyes.

“Seems unfair that I should be the only one undressed here,” she told him, undoing his belt and pushing his tunic down to the floor, followed by the small cloth he wore for modesty while he was training.

He now stood before her, as naked as she was, and it was her turn to look him over with appreciation. She had known that he had a good body, of course, from watching him train and patching him up. And she’d heard from the girls in the slave quarters that his other assets were more than adequate as well. Apparently, for once, they hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Like what you see?” Carnifex asked with a small smirk, noting the way her eyes widened when she took in the size of his hardened length.

“Very much so,” Phoenix nodded, licking her lips as she felt her desire ratchet up once more. Not wanting to feed his already inflated ego too much, however, she quickly added, “But don’t let it go to your head, gladiator.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her smugly as he pressed her down onto his small bed, clearly designed with only one occupant in mind, and mounted her.

If her body wasn’t craving this forbidden pleasure so badly, she would have been more than happy to smack that self-satisfied look right off his face. But as it was, his lips landed on hers once more and she was able to concentrate on nothing beyond the feel of his bare skin pressed against hers.

Moaning softly into his mouth, she hooked one leg around his waist and buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers danced across her skin, tracing the contours of her body with a grip that was shockingly gentle, but which hinted at the power and strength that lay beneath the surface. She shivered at the thought of those rough hands, those hands that had ended the lives of so many nameless, faceless opponents, digging into her skin and marking her flesh—marking her as his.

His kisses were everything and nothing like she thought they would be, all at the same time. He kissed her with a bruising intensity, sucking and nipping at her lips as though he wanted her to know that she was his and his alone. Yet at the same time, his tongue was soothing and gentle, tracing the seam of her mouth with an almost painful tenderness. His kisses tasted sweeter than honey and finer than even the best wine their masters served at their fancy banquets.

If a girl wasn’t careful, she could get addicted to those kisses.

Groaning under his breath, Carnifex began muttering to himself as he ground his hips against her, his stiff, pulsing length burning her skin as it rubbed against her thigh. It took her a moment to become conscious of the fact that she didn’t understand the language he was speaking. It must have been the language of his people.

“What are you saying?” she asked, curious despite herself as their mingled pants and moans filled the air.

“Just how fucking crazy you make me,” he confessed, burying his face in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. As he began peppering her shoulder and collarbone with searing kisses, his hand slid down between their bodies, finding the apex of her pleasure once again and rubbing it slowly.

“I like it,” she whispered, running one hand over the planes of his handsome face, her back arching up off the bed as he stoked the fire inside her. “Your language.”

“The Romans find it savage,” he grunted, dipping a finger inside her while he nipped at her jaw.

“I’m not Roman,” she said firmly, spreading her legs wider beneath him and biting down on her lower lip as she felt that burning sensation filling her body all over again.

“No,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers, their noses bumping together as they stared into each other’s eyes. “You’re not.”

Wordlessly, Phoenix reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around him, drawing a sharp hiss from deep inside his chest. She stroked him softly, feeling how rigid he was with need. Need for her. In that moment, he longed for her just as much as she longed for him. Something about that realization caused a chasm of yearning to open up inside her chest.

Still grasping him firmly in her hand, she drew him closer to her entrance and then released him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to kiss him once more. He hissed again, but this time it was in pain. Pulling back, she realized with a wince that she had pressed down on one of the tender spots from Gallus’ beating.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, heat rising to her cheeks. “Would you rather we didn’t—”

“Phoenix,” he cut her off, silencing her with a finger to her lips. “The gods themselves could not keep me from you right now.”

He smothered any further arguments she might have tried to make with a heated kiss, cradling her face in one hand as he lined himself up to her entrance with the other. For all their frenzied passion, he took his time about it, teasing her soaked folds with the tip of his length until she finally let out a small grunt of frustration.

“So impatient,” he smirked, slowly pushing himself into her, just an inch or so.

“Oh,” Phoenix moaned, fisting his roughspun blanket in her hands as he gripped her hips, watching himself sink further and further inside her, the both of them gasping at the sensation.

“Fuck,” he grunted once he was fully seated inside her, stilling his hips for a moment and just gazing down at her.

“Don’t stop now,” she told him in a breathless voice, reaching up to trail one hand down his chest and stomach. “Please.”

That little beg was all the encouragement he needed. Resting his hands on either side of her head, caging her within his grasp, he began to rock his hips against hers, her gasps and moans of ecstasy spurring him on until he was pistoning inside her, the sound of his naked body slapping against hers filling the small cell.

“Fuck, fuck, yes!” Phoenix cried out, her dark eyes screwing shut as she clung to him, her nails biting into the thickened flesh of his back, hardened from years of enduring the whip. “Yes, yes, yes, keep going!”

Grasping her jaw in one hand, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers, and told her, “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me. I want to see you when you fall apart for me.”

Her eyes flew open instantly at his words, her pupils blown wide with lust and desire as she gazed up at him, seeing the same feelings reflected in his green irises. She knew she must be close to falling over the edge once more, for she could feel that same all-consuming fire burning in her lower belly, causing her legs to tremble and her breathing to become more shallow.

“Carn—Carnifex,” she groaned, digging her nails into his shoulders while her hips continued to thrust upward, aligning herself with his unforgiving pace as he chased her to higher and higher heights of pleasures. Aphrodite herself would envy her, she was sure of it.

“I know, I know,” Carnifex panted, letting his body drop down on top of hers and pressing his face into her neck. “I can feel you. Oh, you’re so tight. Let go. I want to feel you let go,” he whispered, sucking at the pulse point just beneath her ear.

She was right on the edge, dancing dangerously close to the precipice of no return. Her skin burned with a white-hot fire that he had started inside her, a fire that only he could extinguish. Somewhere in the hazy back of her mind, she couldn’t believe she was here, couldn’t believe she was in the arms of this man who had been the bane of her existence since she first laid eyes on him. And yet, somehow being here also felt so right. Her body felt so alive, every part of her tingling with a newness and a vibrancy that she didn’t understand, but never wanted to let go of.

Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down to her as she fell apart, her entire body quaking as the flames engulfed her, consuming every part of her until she felt like nothing more than ash and bone. She lay back in exhaustion, her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her body, not a single coherent thought in her head.

She only became aware that he had pulled out of her when she felt a strange emptiness between her legs, a soft, unconscious whimper escaping her lips at the loss.

“I’m here,” Carnifex told her, groaning as he pumped himself above her. “I’m right here.” Sweat poured down his chest, his skin flushed and hot to the touch as he reached his own finish, his seed spilling forth and landing on her stomach. Spent, he collapsed down beside her with a low grunt, struggling to catch his breath just as she had.

They lay side by side like that for several minutes, neither of them saying anything. As they slowly came down from their high, the magnitude of what had just transpired between them sunk in and the air in the room shifted.

Carnifex suddenly reached for her, opening his mouth to speak. “Phoenix, I—”

“I have to go,” Phoenix told him quickly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of his bed. “They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone. Aurelia is probably looking for me.”

“Phoenix,” Carnifex said again, gripping her arm and sitting up beside her. “Please don’t just—”

“I have to,” she insisted, hurrying to grab a rag in the corner of the room and clean herself up. Without looking at him, she combed her fingers through her tangled locks and, fast as lightning, rebraided her hair, reaching for her discarded tunic and pulling it over her head. She’d gotten used to preparing herself quickly over the years, and within a couple minutes she already had her tunic knotted at the shoulders and the cord wrapped around her waist like before.

Stepping towards the door, she knew she should have walked through it without a backwards glance, but she couldn’t do it. Freezing in place, she turned and looked over shoulder, meeting his eye. He was still sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her. He hadn’t moved to clean himself up or get dressed. His eyes were simply fixed on her.

“We shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t say that,” he rasped, what looked to be pain flashing in his eyes. But maybe it was just a trick of the light. “Please don’t say that.”

“I have to go, Carnifex,” Phoenix murmured, regret coloring her voice. But what it was she was regretting, she couldn’t be sure. Was it falling into bed with him? Or was it the fact that she had caused that wounded expression on his face?

He didn’t say anything in response, just stared at her with those big green eyes until she finally turned away from him and slipped out of his cell, shutting the door firmly behind her.

If only she could shut the door on what had happened between them so easily.

But even as the thought entered her mind, she knew it wasn’t true. She would never be able to erase what had just happened, and the reality was, she didn’t want to.

She had never meant to get tangled up with him, but now she had.

And there was no going back.

He had never meant to fall in love with her. He really hadn’t. Yet here he was.

He should have known from the moment he first laid eyes on her that she would be trouble. She was the most infuriating, difficult, stubborn woman he had ever met. She was also the most beautiful, with those big brown eyes and that dark hair that reminded him of the wings of the ravens that used to nest in his village back in Gaul.

She didn’t like him. He could tell that right from the start. Those pretty eyes of hers always narrowed whenever he was around, her mouth, with those lips that he wanted to taste more than anything, puckered like she had just eaten something sour. She was always by Gallus’ side, so no doubt he had poisoned her against him.

And yet, despite the obvious disdain she felt for him, he constantly found himself caught in her orbit, like a moth drawn to a flame. She might not have offered him smiles or flirtatious giggles like the other slave girls in the household, but he found that the more she pushed him away, the more he desired to be by her side. She might have been infuriating and difficult and stubborn, but she was also witty and cunning and sharp. Every time she lashed him with her tongue, or put him in his place with her quick words, he found himself even more enamored with her.

He ached with need for her, particularly in the moments when she tended his broken body with those skilled, agile hands of hers. Of course the old medicus had chosen her to be his assistant in the ludus. There was no one more capable or intelligent.

There was no one he wanted more.

But she loathed him. She made that clear whenever she was in his presence. And so he chased his pleasure elsewhere, sought to satiate that ache that rested deep within his bones by bedding every simpering slave girl who batted her eyelashes in his direction. They adored him, praised him, coddled him, and begged to be his forever.

But they weren’t her.

Even he had enough shame left within him to feel disgusted with himself on the nights when he closed his eyes and pretended that the girl twisting and moaning beneath him was her. He’d turn his back when he was finished, disappointed when he opened his eyes to find it wasn’t her, and ashamed of himself for thinking it could ever be otherwise.

They never seemed to mind, the endless stream of women who came to his bed. To them, it was enough to have been bedded, even once, by Carnifex the Gaul. That was all he was to them. That was all he was to just about everybody.

He wanted to be more. He wanted to be more to her.

He hated himself for feeling the way that he did. Feelings like this, especially for a woman who couldn’t even stand the sight of him, were dangerous. Love made men weak, and he couldn’t afford to be weak, not when his very life depended on being the best of the best in the arena.

She was a distraction.

She was a stumbling block.

She was a thorn in his side.

She was everything he had ever wanted.

And just when he had been convinced that she was everything he would never have, somehow, by some miraculous intervention of the gods, she had ended up in his arms. In his bed. And for the first time, he didn’t have to close his eyes and pretend, imagining what her body would feel like or what her lips would taste like.

She was real.

She was there.

She was his.

At least, for that brief moment in time. But it wasn’t enough. No amount of time with her would ever be enough, not unless it was eternity.

She dodged him for days afterward, pointedly avoiding his gaze whenever she was working around the ludus, and conveniently finding ways to get around having to tend to his injuries after his training sessions.

It drove him mad.

She drove him mad.

Finally, just when he thought he couldn’t possibly stand it any longer, he managed to catch her while she was on her own, leaving the bathhouse after delivering fresh linens.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, cutting straight to the chase as he snagged her around the waist and tugged her into a private alcove.

She looked startled, uneasy, her dark eyes shifting nervously back and forth, as if expecting some hidden figure to jump from the shadows. Not wanting to cause her such anxiety, he let go of her waist, but continued to stand in front of her, blocking her exit for the time being.

“I haven’t,” she lied, shifting back and forth as she blatantly refused to meet his eye. Even she couldn’t possibly believe the words that had just come out of her mouth.

“Phoenix,” Carnifex breathed out, leaning in closer, the tip of his nose bumping against hers as he angled his head downward. He knew the longing was evident in his voice, but he didn’t care.

“Carnifex, we shouldn’t,” she told him in a hushed voice, her breath catching in her throat as he reached up to cup her jaw, his rough thumb brushing against her skin.

“But we did,” he countered, his lips hovering above hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she didn’t, he closed the gap between them, slotting his mouth over hers and kissing her slowly, gently.

“This is foolish,” she rasped when they finally broke apart, her dark eyes turned upward to meet his gaze. “Someone could see.”

“So let them see,” he insisted, cradling her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her again.

“No,” Phoenix shook her head in frustration, pushing him back. “No, it’s a terrible idea.”

“I want you,” he confessed, keeping a distance between them so as not to upset her further. What he felt for her went so much deeper than mere wanting, but he knew he couldn’t tell her that. Still, he had to try to make her understand. “And I know you want me, too.”

He counted it a victory that she didn’t deny his words outright.

“What does that matter?” she snapped, crossing her arms firmly over her chest and turning her head to look away from him.

“It matters,” he said firmly, taking one small step closer to her. “It matters because Rome has taken everything from us for her own pleasure. We deserve a little pleasure of our own, don’t you think?” he murmured, running one finger down her bare arm. He didn’t fail to notice the way it made her shiver, though she tried to mask it. Resting one hand on the wall behind her head, he ducked his head low and whispered against her ear, “I know I gave you pleasure.”

“What do you want from me, Carnifex?” Phoenix demanded, something catching in her voice as she tilted her head to look at him. It was the first time he had ever caught that look in her eye, that hint of sadness and brokenness that he had seen in the faces of so many others. He didn’t want to see it in her.

“I want you. Just you and nothing else,” he said simply, twisting a loose lock of her dark hair around his finger. “Whenever you’re able, come to me. Let’s find what pleasure we can, in whatever time the gods may grant us.”

“I won’t be your whore,” she told him sharply, recoiling from his touch. “I’m not your plaything that you can command to come and go.”

“Don’t you ever call yourself that,” he retorted, his voice just as sharp, his green eyes flashing. “You are not…I would never…” He took a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re free to come and go as you wish, whenever it pleases you. I would not hold you to anything.”

Phoenix swallowed, gazing downward for a moment as she seemed to contemplate his proposition. After several beats of silence, she lifted her head and raised one dark eyebrow. “It would be for pleasure and nothing more?”

By the gods, how he wanted so much more with her. But how could he ever expect that, with the lives they led? So swallowing past the lump in his throat, he merely nodded. “For pleasure and nothing more.”

She was quiet again, but this time she kept her eyes on him as she cocked her head to the side, thinking. Finally, she spoke.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” he repeated, eyes widening slightly. He was shocked she had actually agreed.

“But don’t expect me to always be available at your beck and call, gladiator,” she insisted firmly, poking him in the chest. “It’ll be when I’m good and ready.”

Carnifex couldn’t help but smirk at her words, a satisfied expression slipping onto his face. “How about tonight?”

“We’ll see.”

But she did come to him that night. And for many more nights that week. And then the week after that. And the next one after that, until eventually months had passed.

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” she panted one night as she rode atop him, her nails digging into his chest as he lay with his hands behind his head and admired her beauty. “It’s safer that way. For everyone.”

He knew she was right, but that didn’t mean from time to time he desperately wanted to shout from the rooftops that the most beautiful woman in all of the Roman Empire spent the majority of her evenings in his bed.

Especially when the others questioned him about the scratches on his back or the love bites on his chest.

“You need to keep it down at night, my friend,” Caius complained during one morning training session. He had the misfortune, as he often called it, of occupying the cell directly next to Carnifex’s. “Some of us actually try to get some sleep. Who was that girl you had in there last night anyway? The two of you could have woken the dead.”

Carnifex just smirked in response, though his eyes couldn’t help but slip towards Phoenix, who was hanging freshly washed tunics just a few feet away. He could tell from the ruddiness of her complexion that she had heard Caius loud and clear.

She made sure to keep her voice down that night, much to his amusement.

He loved each and every moment that she spent in his arms, but he hated what came afterwards. Even after months of their secret arrangement, she still refused to stay with him during the night, always grabbing her tunic and fleeing his cell as soon as the deed was done.

“Why won’t you stay with me?” he asked her one night, her body still pinned beneath his as he pressed lazy kisses to her neck and shoulder.

“You know I can’t,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “I can’t be caught in here with you, and it would be too suspicious if I spent the whole night away from the slave quarters.”

Damn her and her rational mind.

“Then stay with me just a little while,” he insisted, pecking the corner of her mouth. “Don’t run off as soon as it’s over.”

“Why?” she asked quietly, running her fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. He loved it when she did that.

Knowing he couldn’t give her an answer that wouldn’t scare her off and send her running for the hills, he simply shrugged, allowing that smug, overly confident mask to slip into place. “You help keep the bed warm.”

She seemed aggravated by his response, but he noticed that after that night, she wasn’t as quick to get up and go, sometimes lingering for up to an hour or more after they finished.

Tonight, she seemed more exhausted than usual, curling up against his chest and closing her eyes as he traced his fingers up and down her spine, enjoying the feel of her heart beating in tandem with his.

“You seem tired,” he voiced his observation out loud, glancing down at her and brushing some of her dark hair out of her face.

“I am,” she admitted, fighting back a yawn as she swirled her finger around his chest in lazy patterns. “Aurelia’s been working us like dogs lately. Except, I think she might actually treat dogs better than she treats us. Stupid bitch,” she muttered darkly, her hand stilling as her body tensed with resentment.

“Hey,” he murmured, nudging her gently until she looked up at him. His brow furrowed in concern, noting the dark circles under her eyes. He should have been paying more attention. How had he failed to notice them? He knew there was no love lost between Phoenix and their domina, but her voice held a particular trace of venom this evening. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing,” she deflected quickly, then let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just…she treats Sabina so badly. And it makes me so angry. She’s the last person on earth who deserves it, and I just want to be able to protect her.”

Carnifex hadn’t failed to notice how much you had come to mean to Phoenix since your arrival in the household a few months prior. He had never seen Phoenix interact with any of the other slave girls until you came along, and now you two seemed as close as sisters. And though he didn’t yet know you very well, from all the interactions he’d had with you thus far, he could at least say that he understood the impulse to look out for you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured sincerely, stroking her back with a comforting hand. “I know how much Sabina means to you, and how much you already can’t stand Aurelia to begin with,” he added with a grimace. Was there anybody in the household who could stand Aurelia? He doubted even Atticus could.

Phoenix sighed again, rubbing at her eyes and sitting up slowly. “Speaking of Sabina, I should get going before she starts to worry. I promised her I wouldn’t be gone long.”

“Where does she think you go at night?” he asked curiously, reluctant to let her go.

Though their tryst had started before you had even entered the household, and though you and Phoenix had become as thick as thieves since your arrival, she maintained that she didn’t want to burden you with the responsibility of knowing what was going on between her and the infamous Gallic gladiator.

“It’s better that no one knows, Carnifex,” she often told him, whenever he insinuated that their closest friends might be piecing things together. “That way they won’t have to be responsible for lying for us, if it comes to that. Besides, it’s just sex, right? Why does anyone need to know?”

He pretended that those words didn’t cut him to the core.

Sitting up in his bed, Phoenix twisted her dark hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and glanced down at him. “Sabina is a smart girl. She doesn’t ask too many questions. And she knows I help Hrodebert with the accounts sometimes. I just let her believe that’s where I’m going,” she explained. “But I know she worries about me, and that it’s hard for her to sleep until I get back, so I have to go.”

“Gallus cares for her,” Carnifex said suddenly. He wasn’t sure why he said it, to be honest. It wasn’t his business, and Gallus’ love life was none of his concern, but perhaps he hoped it would keep Phoenix in his arms just a few moments longer.

She stilled at his words, leaning back for a moment as he draped an arm around her shoulders. “What makes you say so?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she looked over at him.

“Is having eyes in my head not good enough?” he chuckled, running his hand up and down her bare side. “His eyes follow her everywhere she goes, at least whenever she’s in the ludus. Though I’m sure he wishes he could watch over her in the villa as well. He already made us promise that we’d ensure no harm comes to her.”

“He asked Hrodebert and I to do the same,” Phoenix nodded, recalling the worry that brimmed in her old friend’s eyes when he’d made the request. “I have to say, I’ve known Gallus a long time and I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s like she’s unlocked something inside him. He’s quite attached to her.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so concerned for another person before,” Carnifex agreed, though he frowned slightly as he looked at her. “Except maybe you.” His voice was edged with jealousy as he spoke the words aloud.

As if he hadn’t disliked Gallus, his old rival, enough when he’d first arrived at the ludus, he’d been even more frustrated to see the bond that he and Phoenix shared, a closeness that he could only dream of having with her.

“There’s nothing between me and Gallus,” she told him firmly, placing a hand on the center of his chest as she looked deeply into his eyes. “Nothing except the love borne between a brother and sister, between two people who have survived the worst together. We’ve known each other a long time and we look out for one another, Carnifex. That is all.”

When he didn’t respond, just shifted his gaze moodily, she leaned forward and pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. When she finally pulled back, she couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. “And as you’ve already so astutely pointed out, he seems to have eyes for no one but Sabina.”

Just as Carnifex only had eyes for Phoenix.

She frequently teased him about how the other girls grumbled in their quarters at night, complaining that he no longer called for any of them the way he used to. It hung unspoken in the air between them, the implication that he now only sought her company in his bed, and what that meant.

“I have to go,” Phoenix whispered, kissing him one last time as she slipped out of his bed and reached for her tunic. “Get some sleep. Magnus has been working you all extra hard lately.”

“Be careful,” he murmured, climbing out of bed as well and wrapping his tunic around his waist as he walked her to the door of his cell. Touching her cheek lightly, he couldn’t resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I will,” she promised softly, squeezing his hand once before she was gone.

She took a piece of his heart with her, every time she left.

Tiptoeing on quiet feet, Phoenix checked her surroundings to make sure no one was in sight before slipping across the training grounds, trusting the darkness of the night to shield her from anyone who might have been observing from a distance.

Once she was beyond the gate of the ludus and within the confines of the main villa, she breathed a little easier, knowing she would be able to come up with a simple enough excuse should anyone catch her out of the slave quarters.

What she hadn’t been expecting, however, was for Hrodebert to suddenly appear before her, candle in hand as he stepped out of the office where he did most of his accounting work.

Gasping, she slapped a hand over mouth, her heart jumping into her throat as she stopped short in the hallway.

“Phoenix?” Hrodebert asked in surprise, lifting up his candle to better see her face. His eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion and from his rapid blinks, she could tell they must have been aching from hours spent reviewing numbers and accounts. “What are you doing out here?” he questioned, raising his candle further and glancing over her shoulder.

“Oh, nothing, I just needed to return some things to the kitchen before I went to sleep,” she fibbed, biting down on her lower lip. It would have been easy to lie to a random slave or steward. It was much harder to do so to Hrodebert, who had been one of her closest friends for years now.

“At this hour?” he countered, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He glanced over her shoulder once more, then lowered his voice significantly. “You wouldn’t be coming from the direction of the ludus, would you?”

Her heart sank like a stone inside her chest as her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“We’ve known each other a long time, Phoenix. I know you better than you might think,” Hrodebert said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But you need to be careful with him.”

Much to her surprise, Phoenix felt a surge of protectiveness course through her at her friend’s words. “He’s not as terrible as some people think he is, you know. He wouldn’t intentionally try to—”

“I’m not warning you about Carnifex,” Hrodebert interrupted, prompting another shocked look from her.

“I never said that it was—”

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, a small smile playing on his lips. “My eyesight might be poor, but I’m not completely blind, you know.”

She blushed deeply at his words, wondering if anyone else had figured out what she and Carnifex had been up to. “But if not Carnifex, who—?”

“Aurelia,” Hrodebert whispered in hushed tones, glancing over both his shoulders. “You know what she’ll do if she finds out he’s attached himself to you. You need to be very careful, Phoenix. Please.”

She could hear the worry in his voice, and it made her stomach drop.

“Don’t worry, Hrodebert. I’m always careful,” she assured him, reaching out to pat his arm. “Go get some sleep. I promise I’ll come help with the accounts tomorrow night.”

“Good night, Phoenix,” he nodded, heading in the opposite direction toward the male slave quarters.

A few moments later, when Phoenix finally laid back down beside you, thankful to find that you had already fallen asleep, she tried to shut her eyes and shake away the sense of foreboding that Hrodebert’s warning had cast upon her.

He was right, and she knew it. What Carnifex and her had, whatever it might be, was dangerous. She had known it from the start, and she had been foolish to allow herself to become complacent. She needed to talk to him, needed to let him know that her visits to his cell would have to become less frequent. They couldn’t run the risk of Aurelia finding out and ruining both their lives.

Months ago, Carnifex had told her that they should try to snatch moments of pleasure when they could, that they deserved it. But had she not been a prisoner of Rome long enough to know that that could never really be possible?

She and Carnifex stood no real chance at happiness, and she needed to accept that.

Fighting back the tears that suddenly threatened to engulf her, Phoenix wrapped her arms around you and fell into a fitful slumber, promising herself before sleep finally claimed her that she would do whatever she had to do to protect those she cared about most.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #top gun #top gun: maverick #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

III. A Gladiator’s Oath

SERIES MASTERLIST

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: We finally get to meet the rest of the gladiators! As previously mentioned, all of the TGM characters have been given Latinized names to fit with the time period of the story. Check out A Roman Guide to the Daggers (which is also pinned on the series masterlist) as a cheat sheet if you ever get confused!

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, mentions of physical abuse, gladiatorial training/combat, discussion of minor injuries, brief language, tension/pining, alternating point of view.

“Gallus, duck!”

The echoes of harsh grunts and heavy breathing filled the air, the unrelenting thwacks of wood on wood reverberating across the open grounds of the training arena as bruised and battered men sparred with their practice swords.

You couldn’t help but glance up at the sound of his name, your eyes drifting past the other dueling gladiators until they landed on the familiar figure at the center of the main ring. He was in the middle of a heated bout with one of Dominus’ other prized champions, the two of them glaring at each other with an intensity that spoke of a rivalry that ran deeper than just friendly competition.

The advice Gallus had been given had evidently been sound, as the other man was swinging at him with his heavy shield, aiming straight for his head. You could feel your heart in your throat for a moment, but Gallus quickly parried with his sword and jumped backwards out of the reach of his opponent.

“He almost had you. You’ve got to be quicker than that,” the dark-haired man shouted, the one who was standing at the head of the training grounds, feet planted firmly on the ground and muscular arms folded tightly across his chest. He was older, probably around the same age as Titus, and from what you had gathered, he was in charge of training and conditioning the gladiators at the ludus.

Gallus only glared in response, his mouth turning down in irritation as he lunged at his fellow gladiator, the two of them engaging in the brutal power struggle once more.

At the sound of Phoenix clearing her throat beside you, you spun back around to the task before you, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks.

“Enjoying the show?” she teased, smirking knowingly as she wrung out the tunic in her hands with a forceful twist. “There are many in Rome who would envy you, you know. Getting to see all this, up close and personal. And for free, too,” she added with a laugh, blowing a loose strand of dark hair out of her eyes.

Your cheeks were positively burning now as you dropped your gaze to the basin in front of you and reached for another piece of dirty laundry to scrub clean. “Oh, no, I was just—well—I’ve never actually seen a gladiator fight before. I was just a little curious,” you admitted sheepishly, carefully running the bar of salt that was burning your palm over the filthy tunic you’d just lifted from the pile of dirty linens that you and Phoenix had collected earlier.

Phoenix’s hands stilled as she sat up straighter and looked at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Phoenix surprised before in all these months you’d known her.

“Aren’t you Roman by birth?” she questioned, arching a dark brow curiously.

“Yes,” you murmured in response, feeling almost embarrassed of your heritage. Your people—if you could even still call them that—were the ones who had stolen your friend from her homeland and sold her into a life of slavery.

“And you’ve never seen a gladiator match before?” she demanded, as if she simply couldn’t believe something so outlandish could be true.

You sighed, brushing a bead of sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “Well I was only a child when I—my parents never took me—and neither did any of my masters. I’ve never even stepped foot inside the Colosseum,” you confessed, scrubbing at the laundry until you felt your fingertips would bleed.

“Hm,” Phoenix murmured thoughtfully, shaking her head before getting back to work herself.

“Have you? Ever been to the Colosseum, I mean?” you asked curiously. Though the two of you were around the same age, you felt that Phoenix had a sort of worldliness that you didn’t possess. You trusted her to explain things to you that you’d never experienced yourself, or didn’t understand.

She nodded, sitting back on her heels as she bent over her work. She draped the tunic she’d been wringing out over the edge of her basin as she pressed a fist into her lower back, deftly massaging the ache that throbbed there. “A few times. My last dominus would take his wife and daughters to the games sometimes, so I’d accompany them. And I’ve been there a couple times with Domina,” she added, doing her best to refrain from rolling her eyes at the mention of your mistress. “But we never stay long. She always complains of the heat.”

“I’ve only ever seen it from the outside. Are the games as grand as everyone makes them out to be?” you wondered, sitting back on your heels as well and taking a moment’s respite.

“They can be,” Phoenix nodded, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “It depends on who’s hosting the games, and how much they’re willing to invest. Those who want to worm their way into Caesar’s good graces usually pay for at least a week’s worth of games, sometimes with exotic animals and chariot races. The crowds go wild. You’ve never seen a place so packed with people in all your life.”

You shuddered slightly, your skin crawling at the mere thought of it. Maybe you wouldn’t like the Colosseum so much after all.

Just as you were about to ask Phoenix to tell you more about the games, however, you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

“Hey, you two, back to work!”

Titus’ jovial face suddenly came into view, the old medicus circling around the two of you until he was planted in front of your wash basins, grinning down at you.

“All we do is work, old man. Our fingers might just fall off soon, and then where would that leave you?” Phoenix joked, lifting yet another wet garment to wring out.

“Hopelessly lost, that’s where,” Titus winked. “They’ve got you on laundry duty, eh? Tough break, my girls. I’ve never met men who stink so badly in my entire life,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he gazed across the training grounds at the pairs upon pairs of fighters.

“We’ve dealt with worse,” Phoenix said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she glanced over at you.

“Ah, I see,” Titus nodded, eyes twinkling as his focus shifted towards your face. “Is that right, Sabina?”

You looked up and met his kind eyes, those eyes that seemed to look within and know you in a way you didn’t understand. You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s no trouble,” you answered him, picking up the bar of salt once more.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Titus responded, though there was no judgment or condemnation in his tone. He simply continued to look at you for a moment, a curious tilt to his head, before his smile returned in full force. “But I won’t pry, especially considering how kind you’ve been to help me around here.”

In the past couple weeks since you’d assisted Titus in caring for Gallus, you’d been tasked with more duties around the ludus. You had a feeling it had something to do with a private conversation the medicus had had with Dominus. In addition to your chores around the villa, you were now also responsible for tasks such as cleaning the gladiators’ cells while they were out training, delivering meals to the men, and tending to any injuries—and there were many of them. Occasionally, on days like today when the laundry wasn’t being sent out to the fuller, you and Phoenix were responsible for that as well.

Domina had not been happy when your master had first brought up your new assignment.

“I need her here in the house with me. That Greek slut assists Titus enough as it is. Take one of the other girls if he needs someone else. That fat cow from the kitchens. Oh, what’s her name? Flavia! He can have her,” Aurelia had pouted, tossing her dark blonde locks over her shoulder.

“He asked for Sabina, and Sabina is who he shall have,” Dominus countered evenly, taking a long sip of his wine. He didn’t even look up from his cup as he spoke to his wife.

You stood before your masters with your head lowered and your hands clasped in front of you, trembling slightly. You wished more than anything that they would just dismiss you.

“But I told you—”

“Enough, Aurelia!” Atticus suddenly barked, slamming his hand down on the low dining table.

You and your mistress both jumped.

“There are plenty of slaves in this household who can braid your hair and paint your face,” your master snapped, waving away the slave who approached to refill his cup. “But there are very few who Titus trusts with the care of my gladiators, and so if he says this girl is needed, then she is needed. And that is where she shall go.” Atticus stood suddenly and towered over his wife, who lifted her head to look up at him. “Do not forget who is the head of this household,” he ground out through gritted teeth before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Aurelia sat silently on her dining couch for a moment, stunned into a rare state of speechlessness. Dominus rarely spoke to her so harshly, and he rarely refused to give in to her demands, so it was clear she was reeling.

But only for a moment.

When she turned her head to look at you, her dark eyes narrowed sharply. Rising gracefully, as was her way, she adjusted her stola, her bracelets clinking along her slender wrists.

“Look at me,” she demanded coldly, grabbing roughly at your chin until you obeyed and lifted your eyes.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing here, but I see right through you. Don’t think I don’t,” she whispered, her voice edged with something dangerous.

“Domina, I’m not—”

Her slap hit you like a clap of thunder, the sound of it bouncing around the room until it rang in your ears. You resisted the urge to step back and cup your face, knowing it would only make her angrier, although you couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to your eyes unbidden.

“I did not ask you to speak!” Aurelia snapped, adjusting her rings as though irritated you had disturbed them. “If my husband commands you to go work in the ludus, then there isn’t much I can do about that. But know this,” she muttered, stepping closer to you and grabbing your wrist so tightly that you almost cried out in pain. “If the day comes when you grow swollen with the bastard of a savage, I will throw you out of this household faster than you can cry for mercy. So I’d keep those legs closed if I were you.”

You did your best to swallow back your tears as you gazed up into the cold eyes of your domina, the pain in your wrist shooting up to your elbow as she twisted cruelly.

She smiled. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Domina,” you nodded meekly, nearly gasping in relief when she finally released you.

“Get out of my sight,” Aurelia dismissed you with a careless flick of her hand, tossing herself back onto her dining couch and calling out to the other slaves to fetch her something to eat.

“She’s a miserable bitch,” Phoenix muttered later, after you had told her what happened. The two of you were sitting alone at the end of the table in the corner of the kitchen, Phoenix carefully examining your bruised wrist.

“Phoenix,” you whispered frantically, gazing over both shoulders. “You shouldn’t say such a thing.”

Your friend waved her hand in the air, a look of defiance flashing across her face. “Oh, what worse can they do to me? And besides, she is.”

“I don’t understand why she’s so upset,” you sighed, tears pricking your eyes once more as you thought of her violent treatment earlier. “And what she said—I have no intention of—”

“Of course you don’t,” Phoenix said in a soothing voice, resting her hands over yours and squeezing gently. “Ignore her. She’s just projecting her own fears onto you.”

You cocked your head in confusion, looking at your friend. “What do you mean?”

Phoenix looked back at you, startled, and then started laughing. “Oh, my sweet friend,” she murmured, lifting your hand and kissing it in a sisterly fashion. “You truly are too good for this awful world. Are you telling me you’ve been in this household for nearly three months and you really don’t know?”

“Know what?” you blinked, beyond perplexed at this point.

Sighing softly, it was now Phoenix’s turn to glance over her shoulders. Satisfied that no one was around to eavesdrop, she leaned in closer. “Aurelia has quite the taste for those savages she supposedly loathes so much,” she whispered, lifting her eyebrows pointedly.

It took a moment for the pieces to connect in your mind, but then your eyes widened. “You mean Domina is—”

Phoenix nodded, covering your mouth with her hand. “She might consider them barbarians, but she certainly can’t get enough of them in her bed. I can only imagine how terrified she is that one of them is finally going to get her with child.”

You blanched at that, your jaw falling open in shock once Phoenix released you. “D-does Dominus know?”

“He’s not a stupid man,” Phoenix shrugged. “Everybody else knows, so why wouldn’t he? But he turns a blind eye. You know how he is. He pretty much lets her have whatever she wants,” she muttered. “Except,” she emphasized, “his Pugiones.”

Pugiones, you had come to learn, was the nickname Atticus used for his champion gladiators—of which Gallus was the foremost. You weren’t sure why, but it suddenly made you feel less sick to think that your mistress hadn’t gotten her claws into him.

“So she hasn’t—?”

Phoenix shook her head. “As far as I know, she only sleeps with the newer recruits, the ones Atticus doesn’t care as much about. He puts all his money and attention into his stars. They’re the only ones that are off limits.”

“How many gladiators does he own?” you asked, realizing you didn’t even know.

She thought about that for a minute. “It’s hard to keep track. We lose some, and then we get some more. But I think at last count, we were up to thirty.”

Your eyes widened at that. You hadn’t realized it was so many. Besides Gallus, you’d really only ever seen a couple others, and only from a distance.

“You’ll get to know them when you start helping me and Titus,” Phoenix said, as if she had read your mind. She hesitated a moment, then added, “Just don’t get too attached. There are many who don’t come back.”

It had only been two weeks, and your friend’s warning had already proven to be true. As you began assisting with the medical care of the men, you spent much of your time among the newer recruits, the men Dominus had only recently acquired, who lacked the skills and training necessary to fight without badly injuring themselves. When they left for their bouts in local arenas or the Colosseum, many of them did not return. But Dominus always refilled the ranks with more, determined to build an elite army of gladiators.

You didn’t see much of the Pugiones. As seasoned as they were, they didn’t injure themselves quite as often, and Titus and Phoenix usually managed any issues that they had. There had been a few instances where you’d felt their eyes on you, but you always kept your gaze averted and avoided them at all costs. You didn’t want any problems with Domina.

Today, however, as you watched them all fight, you realized that you didn’t know much about them at all. You didn’t even know most of their names. Phoenix had said it was often better that way, but it seemed that you should at least know the Pugiones. After all, they were the champions. They always returned.

After speaking to you and Phoenix for a few more moments, Titus turned and began walking around the perimeter of the training arena, watching a few of the men in particular with those careful eyes of his.

That’s when you turned to look at Phoenix, dropping the tunic you’d been scrubbing into the basin. “Would you mind telling me a little bit about them?” you asked, nodding your head in the direction of the stars of the ludus. “I feel like I should know something, especially if they’re the most popular gladiators in Rome,” you added, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Phoenix smirked, standing up slowly and stretching her arms over her head. “Oh, alright. I’ve known those idiots for quite a while, so I suppose I can tell you a little bit about them,” she grinned, taking your hand and pulling you up beside her. “Come, let’s act like we’re going to hang some of these linens up to dry,” she said, handing you an armful of damp clothing.

As the two of you walked, you passed by one gladiator who was practicing sharp thrusts with a long, pointed sword. You’d learned that when it came to simple practice bouts, the men used wooden swords. Perhaps they had become too elite, and Atticus feared arming them in his own home.

“That’s Caius,” Phoenix whispered, glancing briefly in his direction. “He grew up in Egypt. He can’t even remember where he was actually born, but he’s been a slave most of his life. See the long shield he carries? He fights as a Secutor.”

You nodded to show your understanding, trying not to stare too long. He was handsome, now that you could see him up close, with a strong jaw and a focused gaze.

Next up was a tall, lean gladiator with skin like ebony whose size belied the gracefulness of his movements. His shield was similar in shape to Caius’, but slightly smaller.

“Pollux,” Phoenix whispered. “They often call him ‘The African.’ I know you wouldn’t think it to look at him, especially now, but he’s one of the funniest people I know. He’s a Murmillo. Similar to the Secutor, but you can see his shield is a little smaller.” She stopped a moment to adjust the pile of wet tunics in her arms. “Sometimes he gets paired to fight with Felix,” she explained, nodding her head in the direction of the gladiator practicing beside him.

Your eyes landed on the shorter man, with tan skin and a head full of riotous black curls.

“Why doesn’t he fight with a sword like the others?” you asked quietly, noting the trident and net that Felix held in his hands instead of a sword and shield.

“Felix is a Retiarius,” Phoenix told you, keeping her voice low as the two of you continued to walk. “He fights with the trident and net, as you can see, and very little armor. The Retiarius is popular in the arena, but he has to be skilled to survive. Felix is the best there is of his class.”

You and Phoenix stopped short when you came closer to the main ring, where Gallus and his light haired opponent were still battling one another.

“I believe you’re already acquainted with Gallus,” Phoenix murmured with a sideways glance, chuckling under her breath.

Embarrassed, you glanced down at your feet for a moment. Your attention was drawn back upwards, however, at the sound of the men’s loud grunts.

“And who is that?” you questioned quietly, looking intently at the man that Gallus had been pitted against. From what you could see, they were almost evenly matched in skill and ability.

Something flashed briefly in Phoenix’s eyes, but she quickly scoffed and shook her head. “They call him Carnifex. He lives for the attention the crowds shower on him,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “He’s smug and arrogant and hates the fact that the crowds love Gallus just a little bit more than they love him,” she went on. You noticed that she hadn’t taken her eyes off him, even as she complained about him. “He’s a Murmillo, like Pollux. From Gaul originally. They tried to execute him there, but even the hangman could not kill him. That’s how they gave him his name.”

“And their trainer?” You glanced over at the older dark-haired man, the one who was still watching Gallus and Carnifex with the eyes of a hawk.

“Magnus,” Phoenix stated. “He’s a Rudiarius. He used to be a gladiator—one of the best, in fact. So good that he finally earned his freedom. Now Atticus pays him to train his men and make them the best of the best. He does a good job of it, too.”

The two of you stood quietly for a moment, listening to Magnus bark out orders, which Gallus seemed particularly resistant to.

“Magnus fought in the Thracian style,” Phoenix explained, glancing over at you. “It’s the same style Gallus fights in now, so he’s particularly hard on him,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she looked over at her friend.

You glanced between Phoenix and Gallus for a moment, and couldn’t explain the sudden lump that formed in your throat. Unbidden, the memory returned of Gallus demanding to know where Phoenix was when you’d gone with Titus to patch him up.

“You and Gallus—I mean, it’s none of my business, of course, but the two of you seem very close,” you stammered, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. “Are you—?”

“Me and Gallus?” Phoenix asked, throwing her head back with a laugh. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. He’s like a brother to me, nothing more,” she assured you. “He and I have known each other a long time, that’s all. We’re comfortable with each other.” She turned to look at you. “We belonged to the same household before we got sold here, so we look out for each other, you know? The same way I look out for you now,” she smiled, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

You smiled in return, feeling an odd wash of relief.

“He and Carnifex really seem to be going for each other’s throats,” you murmured, your eyes widening as you watched the two of them lunge back and forth, their half naked bodies glistening with sweat in the midmorning sun.

Phoenix sighed, nodding. “Old rivalries don’t really die,” she said under her breath.

You blinked in confusion. “But they’re from the same ludus. Surely they don’t actually fight each other?”

“Not now,” Phoenix agreed, pursing her lips. “But Carnifex didn’t always belong to this ludus. When he and Gallus were first starting out, first making names for themselves, they used to get pitted against each other all the time. I think there’s a part of them that can’t really let that go, even now.”

The both of them seemed to be tiring out now, their breathing growing more labored as their swords and shields clashed. You realized, looking at them and all the many scars that littered their bodies, that these were men who had been pushed long past the point of human endurance. They’d been forced to fight and fight and fight for so long that they didn’t even know how to stop anymore.

Suddenly, however, with a move so swift your eyes nearly missed it, Carnifex knocked the shield from Gallus’ grasp and dropped him to the ground, the larger man grunting as he landed on his scarred shoulder.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, Gallus,” Carnifex smirked, standing above him triumphantly with a smug expression on his admittedly handsome face.

From his spot on the ground, Gallus glared up at him, his dark eyes stormy and filled with barely suppressed rage. Lightning quick, his leg shot out and swiped at Carnifex’s feet, knocking him onto his back.

“And you’re getting complacent in yours,” Gallus shot back coldly, the tip of his wooden sword planted into the sand, mere centimeters from Carnifex’s face, as he pressed his knee into his chest.

“Alright, that’s enough for today, you two,” Magnus called out, lifting his hands up into the air. “That’s enough.”

Gallus and Carnifex both rose from the ground with quiet groans, neither looking at the other as they separated.

Magnus slowly approached Gallus, looking up at the larger man as he began speaking. “Gallus, that was good work out there today, but you need to—”

You watched in surprise as, without even looking at his trainer, Gallus pushed past him with a frown and stomped off to the trough to get some water. Gaze slipping back in Magnus’ direction, expecting him to scold or punish Gallus for his insolence, you were even more surprised to instead see a flash of hurt cross his face before he turned away and began talking to the other gladiators.

“What was that?” you asked Phoenix, your curiosity piqued despite yourself.

“I have no idea,” Phoenix told you, lifting her shoulders as if in surrender. “Something happened there, but no one knows what. They used to get along just fine, and then one day it was as if Gallus couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Magnus. But he won’t talk about it, and I won’t push.”

You nodded, accepting her response and leaving it at that. If even Phoenix didn’t know what the problem was between Gallus and his trainer, then it certainly wasn’t your business.

“Ladies,” Titus called out to the two of you, approaching quickly. “Finish hanging those things to dry, and then come meet me back here. I need you to tend the Pugiones today while I deal with the other men,” he sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Six broken fingers, three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and four teeth knocked out. These new recruits will be the death of me.”

Hurrying off, you and Phoenix made quick work of the laundry and then returned to the training grounds, where all the weapons and shields had already been carefully collected and stored away. Your dominus was nothing if not fastidious in the management of his ludus, and nothing was to be out of place.

The newer recruits, the ones that Titus said he would deal with, were gathered at the far corner of the grounds, some of them lying flat on their backs, while others sat clutching at various injuries. You could hear their moans of pain even from where you stood.

The Pugiones, however, were stoic and silent as they sat upon the low stone wall on the outer edge of the training arena, waiting for you and Phoenix to come tend to their wounds, which were decidedly much less pronounced than those of the younger men.

“None of them got hurt too badly today,” Titus explained, appearing over your shoulder and making you jump slightly. He wasn’t a small man, but he did manage to be stealthy when he needed to be. “Just your usual bumps and bruises. With two of you working, it shouldn’t take long to see to it,” he said, nodding his head once with certainty. He started to walk away, then turned back to look at you. “Oh, Sabina, I would appreciate it if you could check on Gallus’ injury, the one from a couple weeks ago. I removed his stitches just the other day, but he’s being a stubborn mule, as usual.”

The medicus didn’t even give you a chance to reply before he was off again, whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way over to the other gladiators.

“Is he sure he doesn’t need one of us to help him?” you murmured, biting down on your lower lip. You suddenly felt a strange knot developing in the pit of your stomach. “The newer men’s injuries seem so much worse. Surely only one of us needs to tend to the Pugiones.”

“Oh, would you like me to go help Titus and you stay here alone?” Phoenix asked, giggling at the horrified look on your face. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing,” she smiled, bumping your shoulder with her own. “Titus likes to handle the new recruits on his own as much as possible. He knows how hard it can be when you come to care for someone, and then they don’t come back, so he tries to spare us that as much as possible,” she explained, her smile dimming slightly as she reached for the basket of medical supplies that Titus had left for you. “Come on, let’s go deal with this lot.”

As the two of you approached the men, who somehow seemed even larger and more handsome the closer you came, Carnifex looked up and smirked, releasing a low whistle.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Grecian goddess, Phoenix,” he called out, a twinkle in his eyes, which you now noticed were a startling shade of green.

Phoenix smirked in return, stopping in front of the Gallic gladiator and dropping her basket at his feet. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite gladiator, Carnifex.”

Pollux, Felix, and Caius snickered at that, which earned Caius, since he was the one sitting beside Carnifex, a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“Ow,” Caius complained, rubbing at his side with a frown. “Come on, you set yourself up for that one.”

“You know Phoenix could probably drop you faster than all the rest of us, right?” Felix jumped in, laughing. You liked his laugh. It was open and easy and quickly made you forget that he was one of the fiercest fighters in the Colosseum.

“And she would, too!” Pollux added, chuckling. He glanced over at you as he said it and smiled. He had a nice smile.

It was funny. You’d been so terrified at the thought of living in a household with these men, but they were so—ordinary. They weren’t monstrous killers. They were just men.

Carnifex grumbled under his breath, his eyes quickly taking in Phoenix’s figure before he looked away.

“Aw, don’t be mad just because Gallus bested you today. He’s bested us all,” Caius grinned, earning him another shove in the ribcage.

Gallus, for his part, just sat quietly on his perch, gazing forward without looking at you or anyone else.

“I’ll have you all know that you’re making an absolutely horrible impression on our new friend here,” Phoenix scolded them, holding up a hand in your direction. “See, Sabina? I told you they were idiots, the whole lot of them.”

“Oh, so this is Sabina,” Pollux smirked knowingly, shooting a glance down the line at where Gallus sat, his spine stiff as he stared straight ahead.

“We’ve heard good things,” Felix nodded. “From Titus, of course,” he added quickly at Pollux’s subtle nudge. “And Phoenix.” He held out his hand towards you. “I’m Felix,” he introduced himself with a grin.

You found yourself smiling as well as you stepped forward and placed your hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“I’ve already told her who all of you are and all the stupid things you do, so don’t think you’ll be impressing her,” Phoenix grinned, reaching into the basket to pull out a vial of acid vinegar and some clean bandages.

“Aw, but you love us, Phoenix. Don’t pretend that you don’t,” Caius pretended to pout, winking playfully in your direction.

Phoenix merely harrumphed in response, ducking her chin to mask her smile.

“Alright, Carnifex, you’re first up,” she said, grabbing his hands and examining the knuckles. “Looks like Gallus really put you through your paces today.”

Carnifex bristled at that, his back straightening. “A cheap trick he pulled at the end. I would have had him otherwise.”

“You would have had him if you weren’t so cocky,” Phoenix shot back evenly, glaring at him.

You couldn’t help but notice the look that passed between them as they stared into each other’s eyes, some subtle challenge, some underlying current of tension. 

Maybe it wasn’t Phoenix’s relationship with Gallus you should have been asking about.

“So,” Pollux cleared his throat, cutting through the sudden strain in the air. “Sabina,” he called out to you as you began lifting Caius’ knuckles and examining the damage. “How long have you been a part of the esteemed household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus?” You didn’t fail to detect the note of sarcasm in his voice as he asked the question.

“Nearly three months now,” you replied, dabbing some acid vinegar onto the fresh cuts you saw littering Caius’ hands and forearms. “My last dominus passed away and his property was auctioned off, so I was sold here.”

“Three months? And this is the first we’re seeing of you?” Felix questioned in surprise, his dark eyebrows rising as he looked over at you.

“I work mainly in the villa, for Domina,” you explained. The tension returned to the air at the mention of Aurelia. “I had never been inside the ludus before, not until a couple weeks ago when Titus asked me to help him.” Care for Gallus, you left unsaid, but when you glanced in his direction, you found that his eyes were suddenly on you.

“Well lucky for us then,” Caius grinned down at you as you carefully wrapped his hands in white linen strips. “You really do have gentle hands.” At the sound of Gallus clearing his throat, he hastened to add, “Unlike Phoenix here. She manhandles us worse than Titus.”

“Mhm, and it’s what you deserve,” Phoenix smirked, finishing her work bandaging a cut on Carnifex’s arm. She pointedly avoided his gaze as she moved down the line to Felix.

“There you are,” you told Caius with a smile, glancing up at him when you were finished.

“Thank you, Sabina,” he smiled in return, flexing his hands carefully.

As you stepped back and started to move towards Pollux, Phoenix suddenly stopped you in your tracks. “Oh, I’ve got Pollux. He and Felix don’t have many injuries today. Why don’t you go check Gallus like Titus asked you to?”

You weren’t sure why it suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you, but you had never wanted to run and hide more than you did in that moment. Knowing you couldn’t do that, however, you simply nodded and offered your friend a tight smile. “Okay,” you said softly.

Heart fluttering uncomfortably inside your chest, rather like the birds Dominus and Domina kept for decoration in the garden, you approached Gallus while staring down at your bare feet. Soon enough, however, the intensity of his gaze drew your eyes upward until they were meeting his dark ones. They were a dark brown, you realized, as the sun hit them. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

“Hello,” you stuttered, your mind recalling the last time you had truly spoken to him, when he had apologized for his behavior the first time you’d met.

“Hello,” he murmured in response, his voice even deeper than you had remembered it. He sat completely still as you moved closer to him, his eyes never leaving your face even as you ducked your head to gingerly lift his hands and examine his knuckles.

Feeling uncomfortably warm under the heat of his stare, you found yourself entranced by the many scars that traced their way across the backs of his hands. Your thumb lightly brushed against his bruised knuckles, and you couldn’t tell if it was him or you who shivered in the midday heat.

Reaching for the vial with trembling hands, you carefully dabbed at his very minor injuries with the acid vinegar, admiring the way he didn’t even flinch at the sting. You were so focused on wrapping his hands with bandages that you didn’t notice the way he was now staring at your arm.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, reaching out to lightly brush his calloused fingertips against the yellowish bruise that was still marring your wrist.

Startled, you glanced down in embarrassment, your skin feeling hot where he had touched you. “Oh, nothing,” you answered quickly, mortified at the memory of where that mark had come from. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Gallus wasn’t buying your excuse, not for a second. “That isn’t a mark that comes by accident or chance,” he said, stilling your movements as he raised your wrist up with a surprisingly gentle hand and further examined the bruises—the ones that matched perfectly with the shape of your domina’s fingers. “That’s a mark left by a human hand.” There was something in his voice as he said it, something rough and angry, but you knew it wasn’t an anger directed at you.

“It’s nothing, Gallus,” you murmured sharply, his name slipping off your tongue as you pulled your arm from his grasp. You softened when you saw the way he stiffened. “Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly over that one word. “Just leave it alone. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“You’re not the one who needs to be careful,” he said in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. There was something dangerous in the way he said it, a veiled threat that wasn’t meant for you, but that made you shiver all the same. His eyes softened a fraction when he realized his words had unsettled you. “Forgive me. I’m a brute, as Titus never fails to remind me.” His fingers closed over yours for a moment as you finished bandaging his hand. “I just—I don’t wish to see you hurt.”

“Nor I, you,” you whispered, swallowing past the lump that had lodged itself in your throat once more. You cleared your throat, mindful of the fact that the others were sitting just a few feet away from you, though they seemed lost in their own conversation. “Speaking of Titus, he wished for me to check how your healing is coming along,” you told him, raising a hand towards his chest.

Gallus was silent for a moment, just looking at you, but then he slowly removed the straps attaching his armor to his body, giving you an unrestricted view of his naked chest.

Titus really was a master medicus, for the mark of his stitches was already fading fast, a clean line across Gallus’ chest that would hardly stick out amongst all the other scars marking his body.

Taking a breath, you stepped in between his legs and ran your fingers over the wound, freezing when you felt the way his body tensed under your touch. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” you asked in concern.

“No,” Gallus said stiffly, shaking his head. “It no longer pains me. I’m fine, really. You don’t need to check up on me.”

“Titus said you were being stubborn,” you told him with a small smile, glancing into his eyes as your hands stilled on his chest.

“Titus would know,” Gallus muttered, a tiny smile gracing his own features. “He’s one of the most stubborn men I know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and it pleased you to see Gallus’ smile grow wider. He had a lovely smile, made all the lovelier by the fact that he didn’t seem to smile often.

“So will you be around here more often then?” Gallus asked after a moment of silence, watching as you stepped back and began to pack up the remainder of the supplies. “With Phoenix and Titus, I mean.”

“Yes, I think I will,” you nodded. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but you suddenly added, “So I suppose you’ll be seeing more of me.”

Gallus didn’t say anything in response to that, just continued to gaze at you with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, Magnus suddenly appeared in the middle of the training grounds, calling out to the men. “I’d like to speak to you all for a few moments,” he announced, noting that Titus seemed to be almost finished tending to the younger men.

The rest of the Pugiones rose, bidding you and Phoenix farewell, but Gallus remained where he was for a moment, his thoughtful expression turning to a frown.

“Gallus, Magnus is calling for all of you,” Phoenix told him, hefting the basket and resting it on her hip.

“He can wait for a minute,” Gallus snapped, in a tone that was evidently harsher than he intended, considering the apologetic glance he threw Phoenix’s way. Sighing, he slowly rose from the wall and glanced between the two of you. “Thank you, Sabina,” he murmured, lightly touching your arm before he turned and made his way over to where the rest of the gladiators were gathering.

“The two of you seemed cozy,” Phoenix whispered after he had walked away, nudging you with a playful wink as she helped you clean up the rest of the supplies.

“We were just talking,” you insisted, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you avoided her gaze.

“Mhm,” Phoenix grinned, resting a hand on her hip. “But there are very few people who Gallus enjoys talking to,” she emphasized, nudging you again with a laugh.

You were saved from further interrogation by the unexpected arrival of Hrodebert, one of Atticus’ chief stewards in the household. You didn’t deal much with the stewards, but you’d come to know him quite well over the past few months because of his close friendship with Phoenix. A quiet and studious man who had been kidnapped from his homeland in Germania when he was a child, Hrodebert had developed an affinity for numbers and figures, which was why he was one of the most trusted members of Dominus’ household, so trusted, in fact, that Atticus had placed him in charge of the accounts related to the ludus.

He squinted in the sun as he approached you and Phoenix, and you felt a stab of sympathy for him. Over the years, Hrodebert had been expected to stay up all night, burning the midnight oil while poring over accounts and ledgers, and it had significantly impacted his eyesight. There were times, you knew, when Phoenix stayed up at night to help him in secret because of how badly his eyes ached.

“Hello, Hrodebert,” Phoenix greeted him, momentarily forgetting about your interaction with Gallus as she approached her old friend. “What brings you over to the ludus?”

“You and Sabina,” Hrodebert replied, his mouth twisting into an apologetic frown as he looked from Phoenix over to you. “Domina is demanding—ahem, asking—for your presence in the villa. According to her, you’ve spent enough time over here with—and I quote— these filthy savages.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “And you’re to clean yourselves up before you enter her presence.” Grimacing, he added, “I’m sorry. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“It’s not your fault, Hrodebert,” you told him kindly, resting a reassuring hand on his arm. “Thank you for coming to get us.”

Hrodebert smiled, nodding. “Of course. I figured it was better me than someone else.”

“You’re right,” Phoenix nodded as the three of you began walking back towards the villa. “Because another messenger I might just shoot.”

You and Hrodebert couldn’t help but laugh at Phoenix’s indignant tone.

As your two friends began walking ahead of you, chatting about some account that Hrodebert was trying to organize, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder at where the gladiators were currently in the midst of some sort of debriefing with Magnus. And though you knew you shouldn’t be seeking him out, your eyes somehow landed immediately on the tall, broad-shouldered Briton who had quickly become the most challenging puzzle you’d ever encountered.

Your heart skipped several beats when you realized that his gaze was fixed on you as well. Nearly stumbling over your own two feet, you turned hastily and followed after the others.

He couldn’t explain the ache in his chest as he watched you walk away, being swallowed up by the impenetrable walls of the villa of Atticus Cornelius Juventus, but it persisted all the same.

You had consumed his thoughts these past few weeks, ever since that day when he’d opened his eyes to find you standing above him, your hands as gentle as a dove when you touched him.

It would only grow worse, this ache, now that you were working around the ludus more frequently. He didn’t know if he could stand it.

But he also couldn’t stand the thought of you staying away.

Watching you disappear inside the villa, he felt an unsettling fear snake its way up his spine and squeeze his heart—or what was left of his heart, anyway. Those bruises on your wrist. He couldn’t get the sight of them out of his mind’s eye. And he knew exactly who had put them there, even if you wouldn’t say. That miserable bitch. She took anything that was beautiful and good and crushed it for her own sick amusement.

The thought of her hurting you made him want to burn that villa to the ground.

He had to talk to Phoenix and Hrodebert, had to make sure that they protected you where he couldn’t.

Where he couldn’t? Had he deemed himself your protector now? How could he protect you when he couldn’t even protect himself?

But he would protect you. Of that, he was certain. He didn’t understand the feelings that you had awakened inside him—he didn’t want to understand them—but he knew that he would do what he had to do to keep you safe.

As he and the others began trudging their way back to their cells, exhausted after a long morning of training exercises, he was pulled out of his silent reverie by the conversation happening around him.

“She was sweet,” Felix was saying, running an exhausted hand through his dark curls. “And Phoenix likes her a lot, so clearly we can trust her.”

“Titus likes her, too, so that’s two strikes in her favor. If she can win over that grumpy old man, then there must be something special about her,” Pollux nodded in agreement, rolling his aching shoulders back.

Gallus realized they were talking about you.

“Pretty, too,” Caius added, waggling his eyebrows with a grin. “You think she has a thing for gladiators?”

“Stay away from her,” Gallus said sharply, causing all of their heads to turn in his direction.

Pollux and Felix exchanged a look, while Caius and Carnifex raised curious brows.

“Do you have a thing for the pretty new slave girl, Gallus?” Carnifex asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “And here we thought you were celibate, considering how you never seem to—”

“Just stay away from her,” Gallus said darkly, taking a tense step in Carnifex’s direction. “She’s here to help us, not to warm your beds.”

Carnifex smirked challengingly at Gallus, but the rest of them threw their hands up in surrender.

“We’re not going to bother her, Gallus. You have our word,” Felix promised, looking at him seriously.

Pollux and Caius quickly echoed his sentiments, and even Carnifex finally relented and nodded in agreement.

There were very few people on this earth that Gallus liked, and even fewer that he trusted, but his fellow Pugiones were among them. Even Carnifex, as much as he may have disliked him most of the time. If they gave their word that they wouldn’t bother you, then he knew it was as good as a blood oath.

“We need to look out for her, the same way we look out for Phoenix,” he told them, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the villa. “Don’t let anyone else bother her either, otherwise they’ll answer to me.”

The rest of them nodded, exchanging silent glances once more. They’d never seen Gallus, usually so aloof and cold, like this before.

“Alright, men, let’s get some rest before Magnus drags us out for some new form of torture,” Carnifex announced, stretching his arms over his head.

Letting out tired groans, they nodded and headed off to their own cells. As the champions of the ludus, they were each afforded their own space, which was more than could be said for the newer recruits.

As Gallus trudged into his cell, he pulled off his sandals and dropped down onto his bed, ignoring the fresh pitcher of wine that had been left on his table. His body ached and his joints popped as he rolled over, staring at the wall and trying to get the image of your face out of his mind.

It was no use. As he drifted off into a restless sleep, he could see nothing but the beauty of your smile, hear nothing but the melody of your laughter, feel nothing but the gentleness of your touch.

In all his years risking his life in the arena, fighting for the entertainment of those who had enslaved him, he had never felt as helpless as he did when he thought of how he could do so little to keep you safe.

You held him captive, and for the first time in his life, he found that he didn’t mind.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #hannix #hangman x phoenix #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

II. Healing Hands

SERIES MASTERLIST

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: Time for them to finally meet! I’ve been looking forward to this part, and I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, injury in gladiatorial combat, mentions of blood, references to medical treatment, angst, brief language, alternating point of view.

“Sabina! Just the person I was looking for!”

You looked up in surprise at the sound of the semi-familiar voice calling your name, carefully lowering the serving platter you’d just spent the last twenty minutes painstakingly scrubbing onto the long, flat wooden surface of the kitchen work table. 

Without thinking about it, you wiped your hand down the side of your tunic and then winced. You were still getting used to the finer quality of your clothing now that you had been acquired as a household slave in the villa of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. All your life—or, at least, all the time you’d been the property of someone else—you had only ever worn roughspun tunics made of cheap fabric that tore so frequently you’d become an expert with a needle and thread before your seventh birthday. Now, however—now things were different. Dominus and Domina had very exacting standards when it came to appearances, from their own all the way down to the lowliest kitchen slave.

“Everything has to be perfect where they’re concerned,” Phoenix had once whispered to you, the tiniest hint of derision in her voice. You admired the way the loss of her freedom somehow hadn’t stripped her of her independent spirit. “Even their slaves are the best dressed in Rome,” she explained, her dark eyes rolling back for a moment.

It was true. Though your tunics—you actually had more than one now—were nowhere near as fine or as delicate as Domina’s, there was no denying that the quality was the best you had ever known. It had made you anxious at first, wearing such a fine tunic while carrying out all your chores around the villa. You’d seen others punished for making a mess of themselves, and you didn’t want to face the same fate.

Over the past two and a half months since you’d entered the service of your masters, Domina had scolded you on several occasions for being too careless with your appearance.

“Don’t wipe your hands on your tunic like a common sewer rat,” she’d snapped one evening after you’d finished helping to set the table for dinner, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “You should count yourself lucky that we’ve deigned to give you something so fine.”

“Yes, Domina,” you had murmured in embarrassment, lowering your head as was expected.

“I think our generosity deserves a bit of gratitude, don’t you, my love?” she asked, tilting her chin in the direction of Dominus.

He looked more interested in his wine than he did in the conversation at hand, but he nodded and waved his hand in agreement anyway.

Domina turned her gaze, shrewd as a cat’s, back on you. “Go on. Say thank you,” she demanded.

“Thank you, Domina. Thank you, Dominus,” you said meekly, bobbing a small curtsy for emphasis. Nearby, you could sense Phoenix’s eyes narrowing in the direction of your mistress.

“Now be gone from my sight,” Domina waved you off, reaching for a ripe fig resting on the platter before her.

From then on, you’d been incredibly self-aware of your treatment of your clothing and your appearance, though from time to time you still caught yourself slipping up.

Like now.

You bit your lip, but the tension in your shoulders eased when you realized that there was no one about who would scold you for the simple mistake. Not even Titus, though he was a freedman and in the employ of your masters.

It was Titus who had called for you, much to your surprise. Though you had interacted with the medicus on a few occasions over the past couple months, the conversations had always been short and you could see no reason why he’d be seeking you out now.

“Hello, Titus,” you said politely, rising from your seat at the table and bowing your head respectfully, though he waved you off. As a former slave himself, he never stood on such ceremonies. “Can I help you with something?”

The older man smiled, the deep lines on his forehead and around his mouth creasing as he did so. “Actually, yes. Yes, you can. I need your assistance at the ludus,” he told you, his steady, well-trained hands resting calmly at his sides.

Your eyes widened at his request, and you felt a strange dip of—it wasn’t quite fear, but rather some disconcerting feeling deep within your stomach.

You had known when you had been sold here what kind of household this was. Dominus didn’t acquire his riches by chance, but rather through the lucrative business of gladiators. And from what you had gathered, his private ludus boasted some of the very best fighters Rome had to offer—including their champion.

Any trepidation you’d had about living on a property with such brutal men had been put to rest, however, when you realized just how large the villa of Atticus Cornelius Juventus was. Situated in the fashionable district of the Palatine Hill, the household itself was separated entirely from the ludus—the gladiator school where the fighters worked and trained and ate and slept. You knew that many of the household slaves from the villa also performed duties at the ludus—Phoenix was one of them—but you yourself had never had occasion to cross that barrier.

And you’d been perfectly content with that arrangement.

“Oh,” you stammered shyly, looking up at Titus as he gazed back at you expectantly, kindness brimming in his dark eyes. “But I thought that—well, I just—”

Titus laughed softly, though in a way that let you know he wasn’t mocking you. “Dear girl, you don’t have to look like a gazelle they just let loose in the arena. The boys won’t bite you, I promise you that. Well, most of them won’t.”

You felt your face growing warm at his words, and you bashfully twisted your hands in the folds of your tunic. “O-of course. I just thought that—well, doesn’t Phoenix normally assist you at the ludus?”

“She does,” Titus nodded, running a hand through his graying hair. “But she’s out at the moment running errands for Aurelia.” The corner of his mouth twisted slightly at the mention of Domina’s name. Your mistress seemed to have that effect on many people. “And the boys just arrived back from an event at the arena. I’m afraid Gallus is wounded rather badly, which means I’ll need an extra set of hands.”

Gallus.

You recognized the name. Though you had never been to the Colosseum yourself, it was impossible not to hear the talk of the famed gladiators who graced the sands of the arena. And even if you didn’t hear the talk, the graffiti plastered across the city was enough to get the point across, down to the lewd and shockingly explicit drawings.

Gallus was the one they called “The Barbarian from Britannia,” the undefeated champion of Rome who was able to take down any opponent thrown his way, man or beast.

And he resided right here, in this household.

“Me?” you asked, eyes widening once more, this time in shock. “You need me to help you? I mean, wouldn’t there be somebody better—”

“From what Phoenix tells me, you have quite the touch when it comes to caring for those who are sick and injured,” Titus cut you off, a smile curving his lips as he raised his eyebrows curiously.

Your skin grew hot at the undeserved praise. “Oh, but that’s different. I mean, I can help with small cuts and burns, bruises and bumps. Things like that. But a—a gladiator?”

“Trust me, he bleeds just the same as you and me,” Titus assured you, taking you by the arm and leading you through the kitchens and across the open gardens of the villa until you came to the locked gate through which you had never entered before. Pulling a small ring of keys from inside his toga, Titus fitted one into the lock and turned.

The sound of it reverberated through your skull as the old medicus guided you through the opening in the gate.

Titus must have noted your growing agitation as you walked across the empty training grounds and towards the private cells where the gladiators resided because he gently patted your arm and glanced down at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“He’s asleep right now,” he told you quietly, guiding you surely past sealed door after sealed door. How many gladiators were kept here exactly? “He wouldn’t do you any harm—don’t let the name fool you—but even so, he should be fairly worn out while we’re tending to him.”

“What happened to him exactly?” you asked, your trepidation slowly giving way to a sort of gentle curiosity. You had seen brutal injuries over the years, but the thought of seeing a gladiator’s injuries up close made you feel a little woozy.

“Took part of a battle ax to the chest,” Titus replied, as if it were the most common thing in the world. He must have noticed your eyes bugging out of your head because he quickly added, “It’s not as bad as it sounds. And he’s been through worse. But still, between that and some other smaller wounds, I could really use the assistance. I’ll walk you through it,” he told you calmly, finally stopping in front of a closed door, the farthest one from the training grounds. It seemed that being the champion had its perks, for this cell afforded its occupant the most quiet and the most privacy.

You held your breath as Titus pushed the door open, your heart thumping in your chest as you followed behind him on quiet feet. Maybe he was right—you really were like a gazelle they’d just let loose in the arena, terrified of being devoured by the prowling lions.

The cell was smaller than you had initially anticipated and scarcely furnished—for all that he was Rome’s champion, you realized with startling clarity, Gallus was still a slave. There was a small bronze brazier in the corner, which Titus had evidently already lit to provide some illumination—the small window high on the wall only afforded so much daylight. Against another wall was a small wooden table, on which sat a pitcher and a couple scattered cups. There was one stool tucked neatly underneath. You took in all this before your eyes slowly glided to the other end of the room, in which there was a low bed pressed against the wall.

And on that bed lay a man.

The largest man you had ever seen.

You let out the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d still been holding as your eyes fell on him, taking in the unconscious form of “The Barbarian of Britannia.”

You weren’t really sure what you had been expecting. Maybe, with a name like that, you’d secretly been anticipating some kind of monster, a half-man with twisted fangs and sharp claws, like in the stories you’d heard growing up as a child.

But he was just a man.

Not a beast. Not a monster. A man.

As Titus nudged you closer toward his bedside, and your eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cell, you were able to take a fuller measure of him.

He was nearly naked. You were suddenly acutely aware of that fact. You had seen naked bodies before—there was no dignity afforded the enslaved—and it didn’t embarrass you, not really, but you suddenly felt a burning urge to avert your gaze and look anywhere but at him.

Maybe it was because of his size. He was just so large, that you almost wondered how you and Titus had managed to cram into this tiny cell beside him. His shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs—they all looked so massive and powerful, even as he lay in that vulnerable state. No wonder he was undefeated.

As your eyes shyly made their way back up his form, you took note of all the scars that marked his skin. His thighs were littered with them, including a deep gash just above his left knee. His arms and hands were much the same, including some fresh marks that he must have acquired just today, as Titus had said.

His chest and shoulders were what caused the gasp to catch in your throat. There, right across the center of his chest, was a bloody gouge, the lacerated edges indicating the mark of a Roman battle ax. And up on his shoulder was a massive scar, the skin pink and puckered from a wound that had clearly taken a long time to heal.

Finally, your eyes landed on his face. His chin was deeply scarred as well, the marks telling a story you could only begin to imagine. You tilted your head to the side, gazing curiously at the hair that adorned the top of his lip. Living your entire life in Rome, you’d only ever seen men clean-shaven, perhaps with a day or two’s worth of scruff. You had never seen a man appear to grow hair so intentionally on his face before, and you found yourself transfixed. 

It was dark, as was the rest of his hair, though as you moved closer to the bed you realized that there were streaks of gold buried in the thick depths. It seemed to fall softly, not as short as the way Roman men wore it, yet not quite as long as you would imagine a barbarian from Britannia to keep it.

His dark lashes fluttered slightly as you stood over him, but he didn’t wake.

And for some inexplicable reason, you weren’t afraid.

By all accounts, this man had slaughtered hundreds, had stolen their very life breath with the hands that now lay still at his sides. And yet, as you stood beside him, you felt no fear.

“Here, take a seat,” Titus told you kindly, reaching for the stool that sat beneath the small table and setting it down for you beside the bed. “I did a cursory cleansing of his wounds when he first arrived back, but it looks like the cut is deep enough that it’s going to require sutures. While I’m preparing the instruments, I would like you to apply a poultice I made. It should hopefully relieve some of the pain and cleanse the gash further.”

You simply nodded in response, reaching for the strips of clean linens that had already been prepared. From the smell of them, Titus had put together a concoction involving acid vinegar. Grabbing hold of the longest strip, you laid it across Gallus’ chest and began to gently press it into his open wound. He let out a soft hiss under his breath, which made you stiffen slightly, but still he did not wake. Breathing deeply, you reached for another vinegar-soaked linen strip and laid it across one of the minor wounds on his forearm.

Within moments, you had the poultice applied to every wound that was visible to your eyes, your heart growing heavy as you began to take stock of just how many injuries—both new and old—this man had suffered in his life. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that Titus was still preparing his instruments for suturing, soaking his needles in vinegar and passing them through the flames of the brazier.

Looking back down at the gladiator who had somehow ended up entrusted to your care, you found your heart moved in a sudden rush of compassion for him. What had his life been like before he was brought here? Did he have a family? A home? Did he even want to be doing this?

Reaching out slowly, you found yourself stroking his forehead with gentle fingers, brushing his hair away from his face. Your fingertips trailed slowly down his cheek, tracing the contours of his skin, feeling the firm bone beneath. His skin was so warm that it was practically hot to the touch.

You were gazing down at him, cupping his cheek in your hand, when his eyes suddenly fluttered open, two dark orbs staring up at you.

He blinked once.

Then twice.

Confusion passed through his eyes for a moment as he gazed at you, your hand still resting on his cheek.

Then his expression hardened, his dark eyes as stony and unyielding as obsidian.

“Who are you?” he demanded roughly, his voice sounding angry. He tried to sit up, tried to move away from your touch, but ended up wincing in pain.

You removed your hand from his face immediately, suddenly feeling foolish. “I—I—” you stammered, not knowing how to respond. Your tongue was suddenly stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be such a brute,” Titus scolded, suddenly appearing over your shoulder as you rose from the stool, nearly tripping backwards over it. “See, you’ve got the poor girl all upset when all she was trying to do was help you.”

Gallus scowled coldly at the medicus, eyes narrowing. “What is she doing here? Where’s Phoenix?” he demanded, his gravelly voice making goosebumps rise on your skin. He spared a brief glance in your direction, but then his eyes narrowed further and he quickly turned away.

“Phoenix had other obligations, and I needed the help. What were you thinking, taking an ax to the chest like that?” Titus asked, seemingly unfazed by this hulking man’s barely concealed fury.

“My apologies,” Gallus spat bitterly, glaring. He glanced down at linen bandages covering his body, wincing some more as he forced himself into a sitting position despite his obvious agony. Blood was already starting to soak through most of them.

“Oh, you shouldn’t!” you exclaimed before you could stop yourself, instinctively moving towards him to try to fix the bandaging.

He pulled away from you and his glare intensified. You swallowed, dropping your gaze to your bare feet.

“Get her out of here, Titus,” he said coldly, turning to stare at the far wall.

“Gallus, she—”

“Get. Her. Out,” he forced out through gritted teeth, refusing to look at you again.

“I’ll go,” you said softly, holding up a placating hand towards Titus when it looked like the older man was going to continue to argue. “I’m sorry,” you added, almost to yourself, as you slipped out of the cell and ran without looking back out of the ludus.

You hoped you would never have to go back there again.

He had never felt hands so gentle in his life.

For a moment, just for a moment as he’d started to come to, he’d wondered if maybe that Germanic fighter’s ax really had killed him and he was being welcomed into the fields of eternity.

That was the only explanation for a touch so soft, a touch that seemed to reach deep down into the very core of him.

But then he’d opened his eyes and he realized that the sweet release of death had not yet claimed him.

He was still in his dank, dingy cell, his body wracked with an agony that he’d somehow learned to live with over the years. He was not yet free.

And yet, that touch remained.

That face had appeared, floating above him and looking deeply into his eyes—when had he last seen a face so innocent? When had he ever seen a face so innocent?

When had he ever felt a touch so gentle?

Never.

And so he recoiled instantly, knowing that a man like him didn’t deserve a touch so light and tender. A man like him didn’t deserve to be in the presence of such innocence.

He would only destroy it, as he destroyed everything else.

He felt shame—damn, when had he last felt shame?—bubble up inside him as that innocent face fell at his cruel and cutting words, disappearing from his sight as its owner fled his cell without a backwards glance.

Good.

He didn’t like the feeling that innocent face and those gentle hands had stirred deep inside him, deep inside that place that still ached and longed for something just beyond his reach.

He hoped she never came back.

“You really are a fucking brute, you know that?” Titus scoffed in disgust, pushing him back down onto the bed and forcibly adjusting his bandages.

His hands certainly weren’t gentle.

“Shut up, Titus,” Gallus muttered brusquely, turning his face away from the older man. He and the medicus had known each other for quite some time, and neither of them had any qualms when it came to blunt honesty.

“She only came here because I asked her to,” Titus went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “And I only asked her to because Phoenix told me how good she was at tending wounds,” he said pointedly.

Gallus just blinked. If Titus expected him to look chastened, he would be sorely disappointed, no matter that a nagging feeling of guilt was tugging at his gut.

“Why didn’t you just bring Phoenix?” he demanded, frowning like a petulant child.

“I told you, she’s busy. Or have you forgotten that she’s at the beck and call of Atticus and Aurelia, and not you?” Titus asked sharply, raising a brow as he looked down at him.

Gallus flushed angrily at his words, his hands balling into tight fights.

“Easy there, barbarian,” Titus murmured, his tone softening slightly. “She’ll be back soon enough. I’ll have her come check on you later tonight.”

The two of them were quiet for a while as Titus focused on his work, beginning the slow process of stitching up the wound on Gallus’ chest. Gallus’ jaw clenched, but he made no complaints.

“You should apologize to her,” Titus said quietly, once his work was done and he was washing his hands in the small basin he’d brought with him.

“I’ve never even seen her before,” Gallus said gruffly, leaning back against the wall. “What, does she live here now?”

“She belongs here now,” Titus corrected. “She’s just as much a slave as you are, Gallus, so you don’t have to take out your rage against Rome on her.”

He deflated slightly at the medicus’ words, that nagging feeling returning to his chest. “I’ve never seen her before,” he said again, more quietly this time.

“She was only brought here a couple months ago. Aurelia keeps her busy in the villa, so there’s never been any reason to send her over to the ludus,” Titus explained, drying his hands and packing up his supplies.

Gallus’ jaw tightened angrily at the mention of Aurelia’s name, but he ignored the feeling of disgust that rose inside him. “So how do you expect me to apologize to her then?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Titus shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m off to see to the others. Have a good evening, barbarian,” he said without malice, closing the door to the cell behind him as he left.

“Sure,” Gallus muttered darkly, lying back on his bed and trying not to remember what the touch of those gentle hands had felt like.

It took a few days before he saw you again.

It wasn’t like he was going out of his way to find you or anything like that. No, he was just keeping an eye out. If he happened to see you, he would apologize, and if not, then he wouldn’t.

If he just so happened to walk by the fence that separated the ludus from the main villa more often than usual, what was that to anybody?

Almost a week after his abrupt dismissal of you from his cell, he had just about given up hope that he would ever lay eyes on you again when he suddenly saw you appear at the opening in the fence, Phoenix by your side.

He could only assume, judging by the large baskets you both carried, that you had come to collect laundry from the ludus. Well, and there was plenty of it. He saw Phoenix say something to you, but from this distance, he couldn’t judge what it was. All he knew was that she suddenly left your side, retreating back through the fence towards the villa.

This was it. Probably the only opportunity he’d have to apologize. He’d never hear the end of it from Titus if he didn’t.

Sighing, he stepped into the hot midafternoon sun and began crossing the pathway until he was just a few feet away from you.

You had seen him coming. He’d seen the way your eyes had caught on his figure as he approached—it was rather hard for someone of his size to be stealthy—and he didn’t fail to notice the way your shoulders stiffened slightly.

He frightened you.

Normally, he didn’t mind. He often relished the fact that he was able to strike fear into people’s hearts. But this time, the realization rankled.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he muttered without preamble, his voice sounding gruff to his own ears.

When was the last time he had apologized for anything?

Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, but you didn’t say anything in response.

“I was—rude to you the other day,” he went on awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as he stood before you. “It wasn’t your fault that—well, I just mean—I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry.”

The quiet between the two of you stretched until it became almost unbearable. He was about to turn on his heel and walk away when you suddenly stepped forward, staring at a spot on his arm.

“You’re bleeding,” you said softly, pointing at one of the bandages on his arm, through which dark red blood was starting to seep.

“What?” he asked in confusion, blinking down at where you were pointing. “Oh, that. Yeah. Stubborn thing just doesn’t want to heal. It keeps opening,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I can help,” you told him, stepping closer and gingerly touching his arm on either side of the wound.

He stiffened and you flinched.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you let him go, your head lowering just as it had when he’d demanded to know who you were. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ve heard you’re a very good healer.”

“I don’t know about that, but I know how to patch up wounds,” you replied, chancing a glance upwards.

He suddenly found himself wanting to know where you had acquired that skill—and why it had been necessary.

“My name is Gallus,” he found himself saying, not quite sure why.

Your lips started to curve into just a hint of a smile as you opened your mouth to reply. “My name is—”

“Sabina!”

Phoenix’s voice suddenly rang out as she came hurrying back through the fence and onto the grounds of the ludus. She came to a sudden halt when she saw him standing beside you.

“Is this barbarian bothering you?” Phoenix asked, the humor in her tone shining through.

“No, no, I was just going to—”

“No time. Aurelia is demanding your presence in the kitchen,” Phoenix sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll handle the laundry over here. You go.”

“Oh, but Gallus’ arm,” you countered, indicating the bloody bandage wrapped about his forearm.

“I’ll be fine,” he hastened to reassure you, though he felt his blood growing hot at the demand from Aurelia.

“I’ll check it for him,” Phoenix promised, pushing you along. “Now go. I don’t want you getting in trouble,” she said firmly.

Your eyes drifted over Phoenix’s shoulder and landed on him once more.

He hadn’t been mistaken. Yours really was the most innocent face he had ever seen.

“Goodbye, Gallus,” you said softly, turning and disappearing back inside the massive walls of the villa.

He glanced down at his arm, where he could still feel your touch.

“Goodbye, Sabina,” he whispered in response.

Your head felt a bit fuzzy and unfocused as you tripped your way to the kitchen, rushing to get there so that Domina would not be displeased.

But at the moment, your domina was the least of your concerns.

For the past week, you had been doing your best to avoid the ludus at all costs, never wanting to step foot on those grounds again.

Now you were wondering how you could get back.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #hannix #hangman x phoenix #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

I. Twin Flames

SERIES MASTERLIST

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: I hope you guys are excited for Gallus and Sabina’s story! I know that I’m very excited to tell it. Please think of this chapter as a Prologue of sorts, where you’ll get a little glimpse into the histories of our hero and heroine.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, parental death, references to physical abuse, allusions to atrocities committed during a Roman raid, angst.

You could never escape your debts.

There wasn’t much that you remembered about your father, but you could recall those words falling from his lips, clear as a bell. He’d said them so often when you were a little girl that they were permanently ingrained in your brain, rather like the brand that now marred the skin of your left shoulder.

He was right. You couldn’t escape your debts. Even in death, they came to haunt those you left behind, the weight of them falling on shoulders not strong enough to bear the burden.

If only your father had heeded his own advice.

But you were only a child then. At six years old, what could you know of the expenses your father was piling up, the creditors he owed, the tax collectors he evaded?

Perhaps he knew all along. Perhaps he knew he would never escape those debts, never outrun them. And so perhaps Fortuna, the only god he had ever had any use for, had smiled upon him when she sent the fever that robbed him of his life breath.

But why did she have to take Mater, too?

At six years old, you knew nothing. Nothing but pain and loss.

If only you had known that that was just the beginning.

What could you have known of the debts your father owed? Death may have allowed him to escape them, but it didn’t afford you the same luxury.

Rome had been your home your entire life, but when you needed her the most, she turned her back on you, just as your father had done. Just, as it seemed, Fortuna had. The most powerful empire in the world had no pity in her heart for poor orphans, especially not orphans who had inherited a lifetime’s worth of debt, orphans whose fathers’ foolishness had robbed the empire’s coffers.

It was a strange thing, being swept up and sold off, like you were of no more worth than the tapestries and vases that went with you off to market.

Everything was to be sold, you’d overheard the men saying, those frightening men with their faces that looked like the marble you’d seen in the Temple of Jupiter and their eyes as cold as the frigid waters of the Tiber in the dead of winter. If they fetched a good enough price for your childhood home and everything that lay within it, it might just settle your father’s accounts, so they said.

You could never escape your debts.

Or, in this case, you could never escape the debts of others.

Maybe you should have known that moment would come, the moment when your freedom was swallowed up forever. Maybe the signs had been there all along, as the augurs in the temples were so wont to remind people.

Had your parents known all along that this would be your fate when they bestowed your name upon you at birth? Sabina, a name derived from the Sabine women, the very women who had been robbed of their freedom when they were unwillingly carried off by the brutal hands of Rome.

You had never been one for portents and signs, but perhaps this one had been staring you in the face all along.

From Sabina, the freeborn Roman to Sabina, the slave.

How quickly the hands of fate could turn.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and months to years, until freedom itself seemed only to be a distant memory, like the sound of your mother’s voice and the joy of the games you’d played as a small child.

Your childhood and your freedom had been stolen, stolen to satisfy the debts of the man who was supposed to protect and defend you. And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to let the bitterness and resentment build. You’d seen the way it festered in others, the way it gnawed at their bones until nothing remained but a hollow shell. You couldn’t allow that to happen.

Because then what was left of you would be stolen, too, and you really would be nothing.

So long as that tiny flicker of peace remained, then a part of you remained as well, and nobody, not even Rome herself, could take that away from you.

Through every indignity, through every punishment and beating and degradation, you clung to that tiny piece of your heart that you stubbornly refused to let be stained by the world. Through every change of hands, when your body was treated like a commodity to be bought and sold, your very humanity ignored and denied, you retreated to that small place inside, that place where you were still you and always would be.

At night, when you dreamed, it wasn’t of the horrors of your circumstances or the brutality of your days. When you dreamed, it was always of the same pair of arms that held you close and kept you safe. They were strong arms. Scarred arms. Arms that had carried the weight of burdens too heavy to bear, just as you had. You didn’t know who they belonged to—you could never see his face—but you trusted him more than anyone you had ever known. And though you woke each morning alone and cold, you knew with a surety borne only of a deep-seated need that his warmth would find you again when you closed your eyes.

No matter where you went, no matter what household you were sold to, your strong-armed protector followed you in your dreams. And so you weren’t afraid when, after the death of the dominus you’d served for many years, you were sold off to the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. For though he was well known to be a lanista, a dealer in the most brutal of gladiators, you felt a strange sense of certainty that you would be safe there.

Your father had taught that you could never escape your debts.

You had learned that you could never escape the fetters of slavery.

But maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of you, no matter how small, that could be free.

Honor and pride were all a man had.

His father had been a great warrior. Honor and pride were the two things he had lived by, the things that had fueled him.

He didn’t really remember his father.

His mother had told him about him when he was small, but he didn’t really remember her either.

He could recall her in flashes—the feel of her arms as she rocked him to sleep, the sound of her voice as she hummed a tune he could no longer remember the words of, the look of pain that flickered in her eyes when she spoke of his father.

But every time he tried to cling to those memories, to solidify her face in his mind’s eye and tattoo it on his heart, they disappeared like the morning mist, taking all the fleeting echoes of home with them.

Home.

Britannia had been home once, but was it any longer?

It was the land his father had died for, the land he’d been cut down defending.

It was the land where his mother had given him life, nurturing him and raising him to be a man of honor and pride, as his father had been.

But he hadn’t been a man, not then.

He hadn’t been a man when the Romans came and raided his village. He hadn’t been a man when they burned the only home he’d ever known, not caring that his mother was still inside. He hadn’t been a man when they raped and pillaged, destroying everything he’d ever held dear in their mad thirst for power and control.

He hadn’t been a man when they rounded him up with the other few survivors and carted him off to the slave markets of Rome, the foul center of their even fouler empire.

He hadn’t been a man then, but he became one.

And as he grew under the watchful eyes of Rome, so did his bitterness. As his body grew stronger, so did his hatred for the people who had made him a slave to their savage empire.

The Romans liked to claim that his people were the savages, yet he had never seen a people as thirsty for blood as the citizens of this hellish kingdom. His father had only ever fought out of devotion to his family and his homeland. These people fought for the pure joy of bloodlust.

He hated them.

He hated them and he hated everything they represented.

But most of all, he hated himself for not being able to break free of them. He hated himself for having to submit to their fetters and chains.

One day, he told himself, he would break free. And so he worked hard every day, not for the benefit of Rome, but for the benefit of himself. He built up his muscles and his stamina, he built up his endurance and his strength. He built himself up so that no one would ever be able to hurt him and get away with it.

But perhaps that had been his mistake.

He built himself up so much that it began to attract talk—and attention.

It started out harmlessly enough. His dominus—how he hated that word—would set up street brawls with drunkards and other slaves and collect bets on the outcome of the fights. He might not have been proud to admit it, but it served as an outlet for the rage he’d been bottling up inside since he was a small boy. Each man he fought was the man who had run his father through with a Roman sword, or the soldier who had laughed as his mother screamed in agony while the flames engulfed her. With each swing of his massive fists, he avenged his parents and his people.

But as the fights became more popular, more people began to take notice. And he was too brash and impulsive, too young and stupid, to realize just how dangerous that was.

He would never forget the day that Atticus Cornelius Juventus came to watch him fight, the rich man’s dark, beady eyes never blinking as he watched him destroy his opponents, beating them to within an inch of their lives. At the end of the bout, when he was bloodied and panting and soaked with sweat, the man even smiled, one corner of his cunning mouth quirking up into a satisfied grin.

“I’ll take him, Linus,” he had said, throwing a hefty bag of clinking coins in the direction of his smirking dominus.

His former dominus.

From that day forward, he became the property of Atticus Cornelius Juventus and he knew that he would never taste freedom again.

He had built himself up so that they could never destroy him, and he ended up destroying himself.

From street brawls with drunkards, to armed combat in local arenas, to the public spectacles of the Colosseum, the years passed and his fame grew. “The Barbarian from Britannia” was what they loved to call him. He was their champion, their hero, their undefeated victor. They loved him, worshiped him, adored the ground he walked on.

He hated them.

He hated their cheers, he hated the way they fawned over him, he hated the way they had forced their sword into his hand, the same sword that had slaughtered his father and his people.

He no longer cared whether he lived or died. In fact, he rather wished that death would finally come to claim him one of these days. 

What did he have to live for?

It certainly wasn’t the hope of freedom. He no longer hoped for that. He no longer hoped for anything. His life was not his own, and it never had been.

There were moments when he was by himself late at night, brief and fleeting moments when he felt himself reaching out for something—or someone. It was a desperate ache, a longing deep inside his chest for something he didn’t quite understand.

It didn’t matter. He would root that longing out of his heart, just as he had rooted out every other feeling beyond bitterness and hatred.

Honor and pride were all a man had, and his had been trampled into the dust.

He would never return to his homeland.

He would never escape the blood and sand of the Colosseum.

He would never again be free.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #hannix #hangman x phoenix #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[bradshawsbaby]

The Wolf and His Little Dove 🕊️

#been thinking about them a whole lot #gallus & sabina #si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradshawsbaby mood board

[bradshawsbaby]

“  please,  tell me why you’re upset.  tell me who did this?  ” for gallus and Sabina or rooster and mrs. Bradshaw please

Okay, so technically I said I was only accepting requests from this prompt list for Lew characters, but this one works so perfectly for Gallus and Sabina, and I love them so much, so I couldn’t pass it up! So we’ll call this a little SVAA drabble!

“Please, Sabina,” Gallus begged, his voice a pained rasp against your ear as he tenderly cupped your face in his massive, calloused palms. It still amazed you how gentle those hands of his could be when he was holding you. “Please, tell me why you’re upset. Tell me who did this.”

He knew. Deep down in his bones, he knew who had done this, who had left the angry welt across your cheekbone and caused fresh tears to stain your skin. He knew, and he could do nothing about it. And that gutted him more than any opponent in the arena ever could.

“Gallus, please, don’t make me say it,” you whispered brokenly, a dry sob tearing from your throat. You were ashamed. Humiliated. Disgusted with yourself. He risked life and limb every day to come back to you, and you couldn’t even keep yourself safe from your domina for him.

“Sh, sh, don’t cry, little dove,” he murmured soothingly, allowing you to cry into his chest as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. “You don’t have to say anything else. Just let me take care of you.”

His warm breath stirred your cheek as you slowly lifted your head to look at him. His thumb was so impossibly careful and gentle as he stroked your cheek, silently assessing the damage. He’d been learning from the way you took care of him.

“Will you just love me?” you asked quietly, wrapping your arms around his broad, powerful shoulders.

Gallus took you into his strong arms and laid you down on his bed, hovering above you as he pressed a kiss to your wounded cheek, then your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Forever,” he promised.

soft(ish) angst prompts

#si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU #gallus x sabina #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

A Roman Guide to the Daggers

Author’s Note: As previously mentioned, for the sake of authenticity and historical accuracy, the characters in this AU series will be going by Latinized versions of their names. In some cases, that means literal Latin translations. In other cases, I chose popular Roman names that begin with the same letter as the characters’ call signs.

I put this little guide together as a reference so that it’s easy for people to identify each of the Dagger Squad members in this story. I also included a small glossary of Roman terms that will be used frequently throughout the story. I’ll continue to add to it as necessary!

Trust me when I say that I love chatting about this stuff, so if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask!

Gallus (Rooster) - The top gladiator in the private ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Fights in the Thracian style. Originally from Britannia.

Carnifex (Hangman) - A champion gladiator in the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Fights in the Murmillo style. Originally from Gaul.

Felix (Fanboy) - A champion gladiator in the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Fights in the Retiarius style. Sometimes paired to fight with Pollux. Originally from Hispania.

Pollux (Payback) - A champion gladiator in the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Fights in the Murmillo style. Sometimes paired to fight with Felix. Originally from Africa.

Caius (Coyote) - A champion gladiator in the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Fights in the Secutor style. Originally from Egypt.

Magnus (Maverick) - A former champion gladiator. Earned the title of Rudiarius after being granted his freedom. Magnus now trains the young gladiators in the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Originally born into slavery in Rome.

Hrodebert (Bob) - A steward in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Handles money and accounts, particularly accounts related to the ludus. Originally from Germania.

Phoenix - A slave girl in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. In addition to daily household chores, assists the ludus’ medicus, Titus in the care of wounded gladiators. Originally from Greece.

Key Roman Vernacular:

Ludus - A gladiator school

Lanista - The manager of a team of gladiators

Medicus - Doctor or physician

Dominus - Master (titled used by slaves for the male head of household)

Domina - Mistress/Lady (title used by slaves for the female head of household)

Pugiones - Daggers (the nickname used by Atticus Cornelius Juventus for his champion gladiators)

Rudiarius - A gladiator who has earned his freedom

#si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #the dagger squad #a roman guide to the daggers

[bradshawsbaby]

The latest chapter of Si Vis Amari Ama is finally coming along! Hopefully it will be ready very soon!

#🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻 #writing stuff #si vis amari ama ⚔️ #Ancient Rome AU

[bradshawsbaby]

I’m currently at 8.7k words and I could technically end the chapter here if I wanted to, but in all honesty, there’s so much more that I wanted to cover in this chapter, so it’s probably going to end up being a 12k+ beast at this point. I hope you guys are okay with that!

#writing stuff #si vis amari ama ⚔️ #there’s just a lot going on here 😅

[bradshawsbaby]

How about a Moodboard for Carnifex and Phoenix with the color red ❤️❤️❤️❤️

You’re the best!

The historical ones are always a bit trickier, but here’s some Carnifex & Phoenix from Si Vis Amari Ama! ♥️

Join my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! 🥳

#bradshawsbaby turns one! 🎂 #bradshawsbaby’s ‘TOP ONE’ anniversary celebration #hannix mood board #hannix #carnifex & phoenix #si vis amari ama ⚔️ #bradshawsbaby mood board #top gun: maverick