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bradshawsbaby · 1 year ago

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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 ⚔️

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