The Roman Empire was by far my favorite place we had visited throughout the centuries. The views of the vineyards, the villa's in the countryside, the day markets filled with spices and silks. But my favorite activity was the gladiator fights. I even tried to get the boys to participate.
"They would be unfairly disadvantaged," Gilgamesh had said.
"It's a waste of time," Kingo had added, "Plus, I don't want to get a scratch on this beautiful face."
"I'd rather not," was all Ikaris said.
"Darling, watching men slaughter each other for sport does not sound enjoyable at all. I'd rather you not go either," Druig had protested as I was preparing to head to another arena match.
"That's not your decision to make. I'm going. Plus, Caesar will be there and I need to speak to him about Deviant preparations."
"So you'll be alone with the most powerful man in all of Rome and you expect me to just be okay with it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you, sweetheart."
"I'm not jealous," he huffed.
"Then come with me. I never intended to go alone, so if you really don't trust me enough to be alone with him..."
"It's not you I don't trust! He's basically a King, and King's get what they want."
"Why are you assuming I'll be something he wants? I'm not an object!"
"Look at yourself, Ereida, how could he not?"
"Then come with me!"
"I can't, because then I'll want to interfere."
"Then interfere! I have."
He faltered. "You what?"
"I'm not a monster, Druig, I don't enjoy seeing people slaughtered for sport. So, when someone loses, I cloak them with darkness and let them run away. Did you really think I'd take pleasure in watching homicide? Clearly, you don't know me too well," I said harshly.
"Ereida..."
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dictator to meet with." I stormed out of the room. You would think after centuries together we wouldn't have jealousy or arguments.
Caesar's box sat atop the arena, guarded by Roman soldiers in their red tunics, dull breast plates puffed.
"Afternoon, gentlemen. I have an audience with the Emperor if you will kindly let me through," I said sweetly, waiting to be granted entrance to the box.
"Lady Ereida, have you thought more about my proposal?" one of the guards, Anaclese smirked.
"As much as the thought of you trying to bed me is amusing, I am spoken for and would rather eat a rattlesnake whole."
"Watch your tongue, girl," he snarled, taking a menacing step towards me.
"Anaclese, are you harassing our guest?" the voice of Julius Caesar spoke, the man appearing behind his guards. A crown of laurels sat atop his graying hair, a golden sash adorning his white linen toga, sandaled feet perfectly manicured.
"Mea fidelitas (my liege)," I greeted, curtsying.
"Lady Ereida, wonderful to see you again. Please, join me."
The guards moved aside, allowing me entrance to the Emperor's box. His throne, carved of marble, sat dead center, giving him a perfect view of the arena. Servants bustled about preparing food and drink for Caesar to enjoy during the events. A red silk cushion was placed beside his throne for me to enjoy the festivities, but I preferred to stand instead of sitting at the Emperor's feet like his pet.
"We've just had a new entry for today's fights, a brand new gladiator. I hear they're saving him to fight the champion."
"How intriguing. The poor man shall be ripped apart before his career is started," I mused, indulging the Emperor's love of violence.
"Yes, no one has survived Philius," he said, eyes lit up in glee. It really was disturbing how much he enjoyed watching two men battle to the death.
"Mea fidelitas, I have an important matter to discuss with you," I began.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I have reason to believe the city is in danger of attack."
"We are well protected, Lady Ereida. My men patrol the walls consistently. No army is a match for the Romans," he gloated.
"They aren't human threats, mea fidelitas. They are creatures so powerful they can destroy a whole village in mere seconds."
He chuckled, "oh how your stories amuse me."
"I am fully serious. You must be ready to evacuate the people."
He waved a dismissive hand, "nonsense."
"But, Caesar..."
"Let the games begin!" he boomed.
The stadium erupted in cheers as the first gladiators emerged from the catacombs where they were held. The floors rumbled as thousands of pairs of feet stomped the ground in anticipation, urging the armed men to charge.
The first few matches went quickly, the winner decided before the fighting began. This is how they did it: pairing the scrawny, inexperienced newcomers with the most powerful victors. The crowd roared and booed, taunting and encouraging the gladiators as they went, leering at the losers and swooning at the victors. I made sure to carefully conceal each loser, allowing them to slip away before the blade came down upon their necks.
Eventually, the warm-up matches came to an end. I took my place by the edge of the balcony, ready for the main event. Philius emerged from below, his tanned biceps rippling in the high noon sun, scars shifting on his back. He never wore a shirt. He lifted his mace high in the air, soaking up the screams of delight from the audience. His opponent came striding onto the sand, sword glinting in the sunlight. He was significantly smaller than Philius, but muscular, also missing a shirt, a helmet pulled over his head.
"Begin!" Caesar commanded.
Philius lunged at his opponent, swinging the mace down in an arc. But the smaller man was quick, rolling out of the way and slashing at the gladiator's leg. Philius stumbled. Regaining his composure, he let out a roar, charging his opponent and swinging the mace once again. The man dodged skillfully, bringing the hilt of his sword down on Philius' back, knocking him to the ground. He twirled the sword, circling the bigger man as he attempted to push himself to his feet. In the scuffle, Philius had lost hold of the mace, leaving him defenseless, but the newcomer did not use that advantage as a normal fighter would. Instead, he dropped his weapon, allowing Philius time to get to his feet.
Eventually, both were ready to continue, facing each other, weaponless. Philius swung, his fist connecting with his opponent's side, but the man remained standing. He ran at Philius, headbutting him in the chest. The gladiator grabbed him, throwing him a few feet. Yet again, the smaller man didn't give up, standing his ground. They exchanged several more punches to the face and torso. Philius began to tire, his opponent using the opportunity to deliver one final blow, knocking him unconscious. Victorious.
"Finish him!" the crowd screamed.
"Enough!" Caesar bellowed. He was fuming; Philius was his best fighter, a man that brought him numerous winnings.
"Shall we crown the victor?" I asked, trying to hide my joy that someone had finally beat Philius, I was tired of watching him dominate every fight.
"The new victor, Moderatoris!" an announcer bellowed.
The hair on my arms stood up, my blood ran cold. It couldn't be, he wouldn't be that stupid.
"Finish him!" the crowd demanded.
The victor picked up his sword, raising it above the unconscious gladiator, but he never struck. He dropped the sword and limped off the field.
"No!" cried Caesar, his face purple with rage. "Seize him!"
The guards leapt into action, rushing from the box to stop Moderatoris in his escape. I followed them, ignoring Caesar's infuriated shouts to stay. Please, let it not be you. I slipped into the shadows, reappearing in front of the stadium entrance. The gladiator was attempting to run, but his wounds kept him from being very fast, the guards gaining on him rapidly. He still wore his helmet.
"Here!" I called. "Take my hand." I reached for him and he grabbed hold, the two of us engulfed by the shadows. I thought of the nearby pond, just outside the city limits, and that's where we emerged.
The man tripped over his feet, landing on his knees, panting heavily. I removed his helmet and gasped, tears welling in my eyes. I dropped to my knees beside him, holding his face in my hands. "Druig."
He winced, holding his side.
"What did you do?"
He was bleeding from his nose, cuts over his eyebrow and on his cheek. He had a black eye and bruised ribs.
"We need to get you to Ajak."
"No," he croaked.
"Dru, please! You could have broken ribs, and a broken nose, you need help!"
"No," he repeated.
"What the hell were you thinking?!"
"Wanted to...make it up...to you," he wheezed.
"This was not the way to do it! You could've been killed!"
He smiled crookedly, "you wouldn't let that happen."
"You are such an idiot and I am so mad at you right now," I sobbed, moving his bangs off his forehead.
"But I'm your idiot."
"That you are, and no King could ever change that. I love you, Druig, no matter how dangerously stupid you are."
"I'm sorry, Ereida."
"I know, my love, I know. I'm taking you to Ajak, no argument."
I helped him to his feet, wrapping a tentative arm around his middle and putting his around my shoulder, supporting his weight. We hobbled into the shadows, exiting once we reached the Domo.
"Ajak!" I shouted. "Help, please, someone!"
"Ereida, what's...oh my god, Druig!" Phastos said, rounding the corner.
"Get Ajak, now!"
He nodded, disappearing down the hall. I helped Druig into the infirmary, settling him on one of the beds. I grabbed one of the aid kits and a basin of water.
"This is going to hurt," I whispered, pressing a cloth of warm water to his face, attempting to remove the dried blood.
He hissed, his face contorting in discomfort.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm right here. You're okay," I soothed, cleaning off the blood that had streamed out of his nose.
"Ereida, what happened?" Ajak asked frantically.
"Gladiator fight."
"Why didn't you use your powers, Druig?"
"That would be cheating," he joked, wincing.
"Why the fuck did you do it in the first place?" I scolded, bandaging the cuts on his face.
"So you'd forgive me."
I gave a choked laugh, wiping the last of the blood from his nose. "You can't go and get yourself maimed every time we have an argument! Especially if it was a stupid one."
"Okay, I can mend the ribs and the nose, but the bruises and cuts will stay," Ajak decided, placing her hands above his black and blue side. "This may hurt a bit."
Druig gripped my hand as Ajak set to work. He cried out in pain, sweat breaking on his forehead, chest heaving as she set his bones.
"It's okay. Look at me. I'm right here, my love," I shushed, trying to stay strong for him despite my heart shattering at his agony. "You're going to be okay."
"Okay, now the nose."
I held my breath as she made the adjustment, trying not to hurl at the sickening crack the bones made as they slid back into place.
"He'll need to rest for a bit, but he'll be okay. I will scold him later," Ajak said.
"Thank you," I replied weakly.
She touched my cheek lovingly and left the room, leaving us alone again. I used a towel that was left out to dab away the perspiration on his face and neck. Fresh tears fell down as I took in the sight of his bruised torso and face.
"How do you feel?" I whispered, tracing his features lightly.
"Like I've been pummeled by a gladiator."
"Well, you look like hell."
"Am I at least still handsome?"
"Even with the black eye." My fingers trailed down his chest and gently ran over his bruised abdomen. I felt him tense beneath my touch, so I quickly removed my hand. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"No, it's okay."
"When I heard the announcer name Moderatoris the winner, I'm pretty sure my heart stopped, because I watched you almost die. That was the stupidest thing you've ever done!" I reprimanded. "But I would be lying if I said I wasn't proud of you. You fought a god damn gladiator with no experience and no powers, and you showed him mercy. You are something else, Druig."
"That I am."
"And if you ever do that again, I will murder you myself. You're my idiot and I need you in one piece."
"I promise, never again."
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. That argument was as much my fault as yours. I don't want to lose us." Druig opened his arms, but I hesitated. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Please?" he begged, pouting like a child.
"I don't know. Ajak said you needed to rest."
"But I need you. Be my medicine, Eri."
My heart soared. "Why do you have to be so adorable?"
He scooted over with a bit of effort and I laid next to him, my head on his chest, my arm around his waist.
"I love you, Ereida," he whispered against my hair.
"I love you, too, idiot."
That night, we fell asleep in each other's arms.