#Ancient Rome!au
Note
it's still me, sorry.
ancient rome with viserys III (he just has that twink senator build, I am telling ya)
YES TWINKY SELF IMPORTANT VIZZY III YOUR BRAIN MAKES MY GO SPLOOSH, also I took a while bc 1. Work 2. I get wayyyy too invested into research! So I hope you enjoy xoxoxoxxo
AU Bingo - Ancient Rome - Viserys III
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Imperial Rome setting, Viserys is an angry lil asshole, too much background building, aphrodisiacs, arranged marriage, pnv!sex, enemies to lovers, hate sex, they’re both bottoms they’ll figure it out later, background Jorah and Illyrio, dany living her best life!, orgy time, I hope that was a good offering to Cupid
A/N: Tumblr is full of smart people but I still marked stuff that might need a translation or explanation:)
Viserys Targaryen. The third. Bred well from a long line of Emperors. The dynasty had ended when his mad father was struck down by the Praetorian* guard meant to protect the man. He was a mere senator now, the Baratheon family forcing him into submission. Damnatio Memoriae* for Aerys and his eldest son Rhaegar.
Everyone knew you could flip a coin to decide if a Targaryen would be mad or not. Viserys, although smart and a respected senator, definitely leant towards the unwanted side of the sestertius*. Regardless, the man had enough allies to secure his position in aedileship* and keep the family estate. His little sister had been married off to some obscenely rich warlord king outside of Roman lines, further padding the man’s pockets.
He walked around like an inflated peacock with his purple striped toga, dreaming of revenge and retaking the grand palace. Not married, still young, and quite mean from all accounts. Rumors flew that he was the passive cinaedus* of his longtime Gaulish slave. But you had your eyes on the fool regardless of who said what.
Recently arrived from the ever growing Hispania Baetica*, your father, a powerful proconsul* had sent you with a retainer to find a husband. Your aunt was married to Rhaegar Targaryen, and there was a promise for your hand to Viserys.
There was a catch. Viserys was not made aware of this pact. All of the details ands plans were burnt up during the violent overthrow of mad Aerys. Greek fire everywhere from the accounts. Your sister and her babes had perished from the Lion of Rome’s horrid beast of a soldier.
Elia was gone now, you reminded yourself. Oberyn kept her memory alive much too much but you grinned and bared it. He accompanied you with his lover and only two of his many bastards. Viserys was to be hosting you all in his grand manse upon the Esquiline Hill*. He knew the power of your family and sought to gain more status.
A plethora of slaves tended to your baggage and personal goods. A fat man with a thick accent, Thracian* of sorts, welcomed you all with an ecstatic smile. “Good evening, I know you all must be weary from your travels, our busy Senator will be home late tonight and plans to sup in the morning. Please call me Illyrio, I am the steward here.”
He outstretched a jiggly arm and beckoned you all, “Come, come, dinner awaits.” Oberyn sniffed and sauntered in, viper eyes darting around suspiciously. He had become quite bitter and distrustful after dear Elia’s death. Rhaegar, a wonderful general, had found some Briton barbarian’s daughter while putting down an uprising and squirreled her away. Much to the anger of the Novantae*.
Robert Baratheon also took offense to the affair, having eyes for the same girl. Add on Aery’s madness and rising tensions against the imperial family. Well. That’s what led to now. It’s bad when the Roman army has to enter Rome. Slimy Lion of Lannister, Tywin, a once trusted Consul* and general settled the fighting quite quick. His son, a Praetorian guard, struck down the Mad Emperor.
You shook yourself out of your thoughts, weary from all the travel. Dinner and chatting was a blur, Oberyn interrogating Illyrio up quite intensely about Viserys. You retired early to a sumptuous room, dreaming of frolicking in the paintings until slumber met you at last.
In the morning you had two girls attend your bathing, dressing, and other attending. You felt quite beautiful in your immaculate yellow stola, embroidered with gold. Your headband and jewelry was also gold and citrine. They smudged your eyes with kohl, painted your lips a darker color with berries. All to hopefully ensnare.
Padding to the triclinium* you readied yourself. Being a proconsul’s daughter, you knew how to behave. Hispania Baetica was extremely romanized, it wasn’t like you came from Judaea* or Asia Minor*. Your family was mostly seated, Oberyn and Ellaria looked tired. They may have treated themselves to the pleasure of Rome last night.
Illyrio beside a big man in armor and the distinct silver haired of a Targaryen graced your vision. Viserys was quite handsome, lengthy waves, strong features, and long limbs. No warrior like Rhaegar but self assured in his own right. You gave obeisance and sat down. Viserys intense lilac eyes bored into you, pretty lips curling up in pleasure.
He hummed, “Martells. You have been good to the Targaryens for many a moon. I hope the trip was fair, nice to see you Oberyn. I hope Doran is doing well.” The senator’s smile was stiff lipped and frigid.
Oberyn snorted, “The place smells of pig shit and is overcrowded. But a fine city I suppose. The streets of pleasure are wondrous. How is the usurper doing?”
An awkward hush enveloped the room. Viserys’ eye seemed to twitch. His pallid cheeks reddened, “The fat oaf is fine. The Lion does his dealings after the Arryn man passed.” Oberyn hissed, “Detestable fucker.”
You cleared your throat and gestured to Illyrio, softly stating, “I’d love to reminisce on the injustice of our past but we did not travel to Roma for nothing, Senator.” Viserys seemed a relax a smidgeon, eyes narrowing at Illyrio’s wide frame. He drawled, “Was there something not to my knowledge? As the leader of my family this could be treason.”
The big man placed a hand on his sword.
Illyrio laughed it off and boomed, “No, this is all good tidings. A proposal lost in the fire.”
“Go ahead, Mopatis.”
You nervously popped some grapes into your mouth, eyeing the silver haired man’s heady gaze. He was entranced— for what gain you did not know. Illyrio opened the scroll and read of the marriage pact hastily made after the downfall. You would marry and join Viserys’ household.
The Senator remained quiet, the guard muttering something along the lines of, “That’s a first.” Viserys finally hummed, “What will I receive if I am to marry your girl? Gold, allies, men? I will become Emperor again dear Martells. You burn with the same injustices!” A vein on his forehead twitched.
Oberyn bristled, “You will receive a handsome sum and my gorgeous niece. Have patience, little Targaryen, lest the people might think you’re madder than your father,” he sharply grinned, “Excuse me, the emperor before Robert. Damnatio memoriae is a bitch, hm?”
Viserys barked, “Quiet your tongue, red viper! I accept the girl, shall pay the dowry, but I need allegiance. My sister awaits with her warlord husband, powerful screamers on horseback.”
Oberyn settled back down with a shit-eating grin, placing his sandals on the table, throwing an arm around Ellaria. You nodded and added, “All good things come with time, Aedile Targaryen. We shall plan, and I will do anything in my power to asssist.”
He was quaking with anger, long and thin fingers almost shredding the purple edging of his toga. Illyrio hummed, “Very well, we shall have the wedding, small, and pay the dowry. Then you may return to Hispania.”
Oberyn stated, “My daughter Obara stays as her personal guard, then we shall leave in the morn.” Viserys glared at the strong woman, lips thinning in annoyance. You glanced down at your hands, quite unsure what to do with an unstable temperament.
You’d find a way, always had. Nothing cunt couldn’t fix. Unless the Senator didn’t prefer that. But that could be arranged too.
After the wedding, you felt alone and bored. Viserys had held intercourse with you once, a banal affair. Strange for a Roman, a Targaryen one at that. Obara and Jorah as you learned, were mainly your company out and about. Viserys spent most of his time on the Capitoline Hill*. Planning events and city works, whatever Aedile’s did.
One day you’d had enough. You decided to snoop around Visery’s personal quarters, he’d be in hearings all day. Illyrio turned a blind eye with a small smile. Coming to a bronzed desk you found a half-unrolled paper. Wonderfully decorated with Pan and his nymphs.
Fingering the scroll open your eyebrows raised. It was an invitation. Tomorrow night. To a secret party with masks only. It was likely to be an orgy once you placed the masks, Pan’s* turgid cock, and the syrupy invitation. Your fool husband wasn’t going to even let you know.
“Illyrio!,” you hollered.
Heavy footsteps and breathing came closer and closer. Mopatis wiped the sweat from his brow. He panted, “My lady?” Padding over to the large man you shoved the invitation toward pudgy hands.
“Was my dear husband planning on inviting me?”
He stared at you with a strange expression, mouth twitching. You held his gaze before he broke. “No. He was to go alone. Felt stifled recently.”
You snarled, snatching the invitation back, Mopatis now leaning on a doorway. You murmured, “Say Illyrio, dear steward, could you perhaps get me into this sordid soirée?” His fleshy face erupted into a smile.
“I have friends in the lowest and highest of places, I’m sure we could arrange your arrival. A surprise for your husband. I’ll have to send one of the girls to the mask maker.” Patting a shoulder you mused, “Hmm, I cannot wait to see the look on the asshole’s face.”
Jorah snorted from afar.
You gained entrance into a vast complex of gardens and smokey rooms, smelling of herbs. Petals littered the ground at every turn. You fixed your mask and stola, quite lost. You’d heard of these debauchery laden gatherings high up in the echelons of Rome.
It wasn’t like that in your household, definitely in Oberyn’s with all the boys and women he could fuck until dawn. A man with a deep voice sidled next to you, offering a goblet of wine, “Here sweet one, this brew will make Cupid himself bless you.” You took it and asked, “Where is the main gathering?”
“Follow me nymphet,” he hummed.
You downed the wine, unsure if that was a horrid idea or not. But Jorah was waiting on the outskirts in case you may need help. Citizens of Roma were fucking and kissing all over as you drew near the sounds of wailing and drums. The mysterious man hummed, “This is where the show is, where you find your lovers for the night.”
He disappeared as fast as he had met you. Eyes scanning through the fog you spotted silvery hair. Viserys was sprawled with some ladies, idly watching the erotic show on the dais. Sucking in a breath you sat on some cushions directly across from him.
Heat began to slither up your belly, the haze and glistening skin of the erotic dancers making your cunt ache. Pulling at your stola you stifled a whine, chewing on your lip under the mask. It must have been that brew that man gave you, some sort of Aphrodisiac. Venus herself must have dipped her tits in the brew, you were on fire.
Transfixed in the low hum of the droning singers, the sensual beating of the drums and the escalating cries of pleasure— you were not prepared for a rather smug voice in your ear. Yelping and sliding away, long fingers wrapped around your upper arm, jerking you close. Viserys lilac eyes were a bit hazy as he murmured, “You aren’t secretive you know that? Thinking I don’t know that you’re going through my belongings, sending my steward around.”
As his thin face began to erupt into a sinister smile you grew a bit fearful. Maybe you’d crossed the line. Targaryen’s were notoriously unpredictable. You gulped out a weak, “I apologize, maritus*, I do, please!” Viserys only smiled more and pulled you flush atop his thin hips.
“I’d prefer dominus*, my sly little Baetican,” he drawled, dragging fingertips across your overheated skin. Nosing along your slick neck he continued, “Almost as slithering as that viper of your uncle,” his soft curls tickling you issued a full body shudder and whimper.
“Dominus, I simply wished to- ah- find out what pleases you! You show me no attention,” you wheedled, overwhelmed with groping hands and wandering lips. Viserys cruelly mocked, “Dear, you were a pact, a bag of sesterces, a pretty little something that makes me look good when I get my birthright back.”
Anger seized through your veins at his callous words, shoving him off with a hiss. Viserys smug look turned to shock as he called, “I wasn’t done yet! Come back here!” You shook your head and stumbled through the clouds of burning incense, past the degenerates contorted and fucking, howling to Lūna.*
Slinking through to doors, not to make any noise, you arrived on a much quieter plaza of sorts. A fountain, some beautiful columns, and a small worship temple. Probably Venus. You ran toward the temple, seeking to hide from your vile husband.
Inside everything was painted a rosy, gorgeous color. A statue of Cupid* surrounded by candles and offerings sat at the head. You decided to sit against the wall, staring at the little cherub from the side. You filtered through your robes to throw a coin at the shrine. No one had shrines to the son of Venus*. That you knew until now.
“Strike him, will you,” you asked out loud.
Viserys. What a wretched ass. You knew this was a pact. He showed desire but nothing else. Doomed to a loveless marriage with a power-hungry maniac. You wanted to make him cry, make him hurt like you were. Throwing your mask off your hands clenched into balls of fury. Then took a deep breath, holding the tears back.
“I said I wasn’t done, now you ran off to weep?,” Viserys snapped as he entered the shrine. You stared at him coldly and replied, “No, I didn’t want to hear your vile words. I’m sure you had some great insults coming up, dominus.”
The blonde scoffed and leaned against a pink column, crossing his sinewy arms. He drawled, “Whatever, I was going to say, that you have proven yourself to be strong and dedicated. I like that. Ask me next time and I’ll take you along to my affairs.”
You crawled forward on all fours, holding his piercing gaze until you sat back in front of cherubic Cupid. Gesturing to the god you said, “I’m glad then, I have your approval dominus. Now fuck me. Prove it. Prove your power over me.”
Viserys sputtered for a second, pale cheeks blotchy. His cock was hard enough you could see it through the layers of his toga. You needed this, didn’t care if it was the Minotaur of days of old fucking you open. Anger and lust coursed in your veins, the drink wracking your system.
He mumbled under his breath and padded over to shut the doors to the shrine. Just leaving you two and marble Cupid. He knelt down in front of you, looking composed but sweat beaded along the high points of his face. You leaned back, revealing your legs and bare cunt, pulling and undoing your stola*.
Viserys sat like a dolt. Obviously he did not have the upper hand in this situation, Face getting redder and redder. You purred, “Dominus, or should I say, Caesar?” The blonde moaned softly, trembling hands undoing his expensive garments marking the man’s station. You were naked and waiting, smirking to yourself. Viserys, now just as bare didn’t move.
“How do you want me Caesar?,” you hummed with a cock of your head. Visery’s swollen prick could rival Priapus* currently, leaking and red. He rasped thinly, lips agape, “Ride me, ride me, hispanus.” Stifling a laugh at the suddenly submissive acting senator you prowled forward like a tigress, placing your jeweled hand on his pale chest, pushing the man back.
Straddling yourself across lean thighs you rolled your slick pussy across his length, moaning lowly in satisfaction. Big hands clamped down on your thighs, a strangled noise leaving Viserys’ throat. Suspiciously close to a whine.
You leaned forward to press your tits against his flat chest, breathing against his pink lips, “Caesar, why are you bowing to such a simple whore him? One from Hispania, probably not even a citizen. Tsk tsk” Viserys thrashed some, face pouty. His free hand clamped down on your neck as the blonde hissed, “This is no time to jest, your Caesar wants you to ride his cock. Get to it.”
He wouldn’t let go until you heaved for a breath, sliding onto his long cock, the protrusion deep and nestled on your sensitive upper walls. He let go, hands now groping your breasts, that irritating look back on his face. You coughed wetly, sucking in breath as you clumsily began the first few thrusts, but it felt wonderfully divine.
Your pussy, lips, and nipples were hypersensitive and swollen, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting off over your body. You rode harder, seeking more and more. Viserys gasped, “Gods, fuck, you’re different tonight.” Slapping him across the cheek while simultaneously squeezing his turgid length made the made shout, eyes fluttering.
“I may be your, hng ohhh, wife, b-but I can be your equal! Fah-fucking lackwit! Jaehaerys and Alysanne ring a godsdamned bell?” Your cunt grew slicker and slicker with your arousal, sweat rolling down your back, between your bouncing tits. The small shrine was growing warmer, the sounds of fucking echoing in the small temple.
Viserys mewled hungrily around your chest as you reached back to grab his overfull balls, squeezing ever-so gently. His eyes flashed open, mouth opening and body arching as he cried your name passionately. He managed to string together a broken sentence, “I- Ifffff- you beast, keep it up, ah Cupid you little shit! I will rethink my behavior!”
You plastered yourself to the man, luridly slapping your plush hips against him, moaning uncontrollably. Viserys was right along with you in pitch, desperately jerking his wonderful cock into your needy cunt. Sloppy sharing lips you growled, “Good boy.”
Your foggy mind expected another bout of anger.
No. Viserys outright whimpered and seized your lips, skinny arms holding tight as he planted his feet and pounded your cunt. He licked into your mouth, tongues dancing together in a style much older than Rome ever was. The senator caressed and sought to drive himself into you, besides his cock of course.
Pulling free from slobbery lips you rasped, “You like that? Dominus just wants to be my good boy? Ah-ct like one and I’ll give you ah-ah-alll the praise you want oh pretty silver!” He nodded fervently, lilac eyes searching your own, whimpering unintelligibly.
His blunt cock head was massaging your most tender spot, driving you to grab Viserys hand and guide it to your swollen Pearl. He picked up easily, eyes lidded with heavy satisfaction at your carrying on. You began to shake, the pleasure heightening to the realm of the gods.
“Ah! Caesar, Viserys, Dominus! I’m gonna,” you convulsed and crumpled atop of him whining when your clit was rudely pinched. Another one wracked your frame when a flood of hot spend filled your warm cunt. You babbled deliriously in your own dialect, Viserys panting and heaving through his heavy unload.
Flattened atop of him now you warily eyed Cupid, little cheeks puffed as he smiled. With a scoff and a residual tremble you said, “I did pray he would strike us. Not sure if it’s love, but I felt the lust.”
Viserys hummed gently, carding fingers through your sweaty curls, “He might have mad contact, I would kill any other woman this brash. Take that as a compliment, you are quite special my baetican vipera.”
“I’ll take it. Do you think our fucking was a good enough offer?”
He barked a laugh, stealing your lips for a peck, “Very much so. We should built a shrine in the manse.”
Translations/Explanations:
* Praetorian Guard: Guard of the Imperial family, Caesar, and special agents
* Sesterce: Roman Coin 1/4 of a denarius
* Denarius: silver coin
* Aedile/Aedileship: Senator of public office, Job that involved maintenance of Public buildings in shape and regulation of public festivals. Also keeping city life in order and that needs are met.
* Cinaedus: Male willing to be the passive partner in a homosexual relationship
* Hispania Baetica: Third province of Spain. Rich and romanized, they are citizens of Rome. Eventually brought up now named cities of Cádiz, Seville, Cordoba.
* Pro-consul: Governor or military commander of a province
* Esquiline hill: One of the seven hills of Rome. A upper class residential district.
* Thrace/Thracian: Area of people spanning between Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey.
* Briton: Roman conquered England
* Novantae: powerful Celtic tribe in the north of Briton.
* Consul: Highest senate position, has the emperors ear
* Triclinium: a dining room with couches on three sides and a table.
* Capitoline Hill: Name says all they be doing government shit up there
* Pan: Greek name for a forest god with nymphs. A horny goat okay
* Cupid: God of lust/love, son of Venus
* Maritus: Husband
* Dominus: Lord, master, owner
* Caesar: Emperor
* Venus: goddess of beauty and love
* Stola: Women’s dress at the time, feminine version of the toga
* Priapus: Fertiliy protection god known for his HUGE DONG
* Hispanus: From Hispania
#Ancient Rome!au#viserys iii targaryen x reader#viserys iii targaryen#asioaf fanfic#got fanfiction#got smut#asoiaf smut#au bingo#ask answered#ily Angsti
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"The Caesar forbid you from ever coming here, we can't let you go inside," one of the guards warned her.
"I have every right to be there! If he thinks that being a Caesar gives him any power over me then he is mistaken," Sunmi hollered.
They let her through.
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Instant Eternity
Time travel involving the infinite realms is truly a bizarre thing. Sometimes it follow one set of rules, and sometimes that set of rules may as well not exist. Usually, however, it works in one of two ways, the first is when the time travel is achieved through artificial means such as clockworks portals and allows for the altering of the timeline as one would expect time travel would allow. The other type of time travel is through natural means, portals usually, and it’s just that, Natural. That portal to the past opened up in the past the same moment it did in the present. If you step into the portal in the year 2000 then you already stepped out of the portal hundreds of years ago. It’s A Thing That Already Happened. Danny himself experienced this, as while chasing Vlad through time they fought in the middle of a Roman coliseum and, whoopsy daisy, set a really big fire. A fire which Danny had learned about years before he even had his accident.
So, the infimap can take the user anywhere, anywhen. And the infimap is just that, a map. It doesn’t make new roads, it just drags you across already existing paths. So it is a natural form of time travel, if you use it to go in time to kill your grandfather in order to insure your never born your interference will result in your grandparents falling in love and your birth.
Danny realizes that anytime he needs to heal from a battle or has gone 156 hours without sleeping or eating he can use the infimap to pop back to the past for a few days and then have the map bring back to the “Present”, exactly one second after he left. A three week vacation that lasted one second. At first he’s really wary about using this, worried about accelerated aging or getting lost in the time stream and a hundred other issues. At first.
It’s been months sense the accident. Sam and Tucker have both shot up several inches. Danny, on the other hand, hasn’t grown sense the accident. At all. They fought a ghost who could rapidly age opponents, a single slap turned Tucker into a decrepit old man. The ghost wrapped his hands around Danny’s throat and spent 5 minutes trying to strangle him while Danny bought time for Sam and Tucker to pull off the plan. The sucked him into the thermos, his influence on time ceased so Tucker returned to his proper state. “Jeez it sure is lucky he didn’t try and age me, right guys? Ha ha ha”. Danny gets blasted through a natural portal while making a trip through the zone and spends years trying to get home, not aging a day.
He can’t deny it after that, can’t ignore it. He’s immortal. He’s going to live forever. He’s going to watch his friends and family whither away and die out. He’s going to have to spend the rest of his life wandering from place to place trying not to get outed as the same 14 year old who save someone’s great great grandma 100 years ago.
After having his first middeath crisis, suddenly the only reasons he had to not spend years on end wandering the world and the past is gone, even if he loses the infimap, worst case scenario he’ll just take the long way home. Suddenly, he’s dreading the next 80 years of the “Present”. He decides that if he’s going to watch his friends and family grow old and frail he’s going to make sure it’s takes as long as it possibly could, from his perspective. By the time they’re 20 Danny’s gonna have 200 years under his belt.
He becomes a temporal tourist, hopping into the past every time the late night fights and schoolwork become to much. Spends years in every civilization imaginable, mastering every skill he can, leaving legends in his wake.
I feel like Danny and his adventures do have a lot of potential for story’s, as it’s a pretty good setup for having Danny in any type of time period or historical event for extended periods of time, fighting in the trenches of World War I, exploring the Americas during the era of colonialism, sailing the seas a swashbuckling vigilante pirate. I, however, have most of my related ideas being based around crossovers. So most of that will be in part two, so that people who like to filter out all that can still see this post.
#danny fenton#danny phantom#fic prompt#dp au#story prompt#writing prompt#danny phantom au#dp#Danny’s Immortal#temporal tourist#Temporal Tourist AU#Danny the next time Vlad goes on and on about his TWenTy YeARs ExperIANce: That’s cute#Dash pulls up to start something and Danny fresh from spending 13 years as a baker in Ancient Rome is just like Who’s this strange child?#He completely forgets about a English project for Lancer and when Lancers standing in front of his desk asking for it#Danny just like “it’s in… Um… in the bathroom “the bathroom? “yes “ okay go get it. Now.#Danny comes back two seconds later with the best project Lancer has ever seen. it’s autographed by Shakespeare#he had to ask what the project was before he left.
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Even when you don't know what it is your job knows what it is
DP/DC week prompt:
There was something off about them
'Danny Phantom, alleged several-thousand year old ghostly entity, has a feeling something’s not quite right with Captain Marvel, alleged several-thousand year old champion of magic. He reckons there's no time like the present to confront his hunch.'
-
Look, Danny’s been working with the Justice League for a while now, and he likes to think he knows them all pretty well. Some of them are more open about their civilian identities than others, but even if he doesn’t know who everyone is behind the cowls, he’s got their personalities down pat at least.
Everyone except, perhaps, Captain Marvel.
Maybe that’s not fair to say. Captain’s a friendly enough guy- nobody’s ever had a bad conversation with him that Danny knows of- but he’s weirdly flaky. The longest he’s stuck around post-mission is probably about five minutes tops, and no one actually knows anything about the man; the League have a habit of hanging around after missions for drinks and talk, and the Captain’s been offered a place with them several times and not taken it once. In all fairness, neither has Danny, but he has an excuse. They think he’s about several thousand years older than he actually is and also a full ghost, so they’d probably expect him to drink and he doesn’t want to have to go through the awkward process of refusing and nor does he want Jazz to go ape on him for giving into peer pressure.
…That’s another thing; Captain Marvel is allegedly several-thousand years old, but when Danny looks at him there’s a strange sense of camaraderie that makes him think maybe they’re both liars.
The longer he’s spent thinking about it, the more sense it makes. Their behaviours probably have a lot in common from an outside perspective: coming across awkward around the other members of the team, passing on every event outside of work, sharing very little about their personal lives least of all a civilian identity- which neither of them are even suspected to have. After all, Phantom’s a ghost, and Captain Marvel’s the champion of magic, it seems reasonable to assume their have some other plane of existence they return to when they’re not in the Watchtower. But Danny just goes back home to Illinois and tells his parents he was at Tucker’s again, and he really doesn’t believe that the Captain just sets up shop by the ‘Rock of Eternity’ or whatever he’d mentioned it was called.
He doesn’t know how to bring it up, though, because what if he’s wrong? There’s a non-zero chance that he’s just projecting his own issues on the man (and that sounds so much like something Jazz would say that it physically hurts), and if Danny tries to confront the man about a lie that isn’t there, then the Captain will know he’s lying, and he’ll totally get booted off the team or placed with Young Justice. There’s nothing wrong with YJ, but it’d just hurt to have worked side-by-side with them proving his reliability for so long only to get pushed away because of his age.
So he doesn’t say anything, figuring there’s not much choice other than to wait for some kind of confirmation. Until, of course, the opportunity for confrontation arrives in the aftermath of one mandatory League check-point meeting.
-
Check-point meeting with the Justice League are really just contractually obligated gossip sessions regarding their recent heroic endeavours that quickly descends into normal conversations. Contrary to the usual progression of these meetings, however, Green Lantern is prodding at Captain Marvel to tell him about what it was like visiting ancient civilisations before they fell.
It’s one of those weeks where the other members are being a bit more insistent on finding out more about the Captain. They’ve made their peace with the fact that they’re not going to get much in terms of a civilian life out of him, but every single member of the League (with the exception of maybe Martian Manhunter) is invariably nosy, which obviously leads to their more mysterious members coming under scrutiny every now and again. This also includes Danny on occasion, but Phantom has a brilliant out for interrogations in the form of making people uncomfortable about the fact that, even if he’s an ancient entity, he clearly died young. All he has to do is pull out some wistful bullshit about wishing he’d lived long enough to experience mortal romance or something equally upsetting and he’s home-safe.
The man across from him, however, taking the form of a very much full-grown adult, has no such excuse.
“Come on, Captain, surely you can tell us something! I thought you were around for ancient Egypt?” Hal exclaims, leaning just slightly over the meeting table to scrutinise his colleague. The Captain is looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“Of course I was!” Marvel agrees quickly, accompanied by a nod of the head that could almost be described as frantic. “Ancient Egypt was around for ages, probably couldn’t’ve missed all that if I tried! I wasn’t around for all that much of it though, I- uh, I caught the tail end of it- when Cleopatra was pharaoh, if I remember right- but I was… I was a little busy somewhere else during that, uh, era.”
Green Lantern raises an eyebrow behind the green domino mask. “Busy? Busy doing what?”
“Well-“
The Captain is making a very particular face, the kind that Danny imagines he himself makes when he’s scrambling for any reasonable excuse to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into by lying. And Danny looks at him from across the table, the man catching his eyes with a look he can only describe as odd and desperate, and he makes a decision.
“That was around the time all those conferences were being held to sort out the mess between the newly-formed undead societies and the natural ghosts, right? There was some involvement with living mages, if I recall correctly; I’m sure I saw you at one of those.”
In terms of lies he could’ve told, he figures this one is pretty low-risk. There were a lot of diplomatic meetings held between natural ghosts and the ones existing post-mortem when proper civilisations first came about and people from them started dying, after all (though he knows for fact the living weren’t involved in any way), so it’s not like he’s pulling it out of his ass. If he’s wrong about the Captain and the man admits he doesn’t have a clue what Danny’s talking about, then he can just say it must have been a realms-exclusive thing- hard to remember the finer details when it was all so long ago- and they’ll be none the wiser.
But if he’s right, and he’s really beginning to think he is, then-
Sure enough, the man across from him nods vigorously, clicking his fingers together as if his memory’s just been jogged. “Right!” He chirps, sending Danny a brazen smile. “I don’t know how I forgot about those! Man, those conferences dragged on, didn’t they?”
Bingo.
“Don’t even worry about it- I honestly would’ve thought the first ones were around the revolution at the end of the Qin dynasty in China if you hadn’t reminded me- my memory was way off. Speaking of that though, have you spoken to Pandora since? I figured you two would get along pretty well, but I know there wasn’t much time for small talk and dimension hopping wasn’t half as easy as it is now.”
Captain Marvel shakes his head with pursed lips. “Can’t say I have; not a lot of free time between everything, like you said. Would love to be introduced properly though!”
“Well, I did say I would- couple thousand years later than I thought it’d be, but better late than never.”
The tension easing from Marvel’s shoulders is probably obvious to everyone in the room. Superman looks to the both of them curiously. “You never mentioned knowing each other?” The Kryptonian questions. Phantom laughs the way he sees his mom do during those weird adult get-togethers.
“Oh, we’ve crossed paths a lot,” He declares with a wave of his hand, brushing the notion to the side, catching the gaze of the Captain in his peripheral even as he keeps his eyes on the other superhero. “Can’t say we had the opportunity to get to know each other properly between it all, though. Relations between the magic living and the restless dead have always been a little… fraught. I was just planning to keep things professional on my end unless the Captain wanted to seek a friendship outside of work since I wasn’t sure how appreciated it would be, especially given how much fuss ghosts have been giving the mortal plane recently.”
Marvel’s laugh mimics his own. “That’s what I was thinking! I guess no amount of time can time will change how weird it can be trying to made work friends.”
-
Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Captain Marvel is waiting outside the hall for him when the meeting is adjourned and each member of the League goes their separate ways. Wordlessly, Danny follows him deeper into the Watchtower, floating behind before phasing them both into one of the locked rooms everyone knows there’s no cameras in, for the sake of being allowed confidential discussions in at least one area of the place- when approved, of course, but these walls don’t hold Phantom just yet, given that the ghost-proofing paint doesn’t quite stick over the lead-lining.
“So.” Danny starts, when they’re both inside the office and the silence begins to creep thick into the air.
Captain Marvel looks nervous. “So.”
“You weren’t at those conferences.”
“No, I wasn’t.” It seems almost painful for him to admit, hands flicking slightly like he wants to fidget with them but doesn’t want to be caught doing it. “I’m grateful you, uh, that you said I was there- thank you, Phantom- but why’d you cover for me?”
For the first time today, and maybe even the first time in the Watchtower, Danny levers himself down from the air, putting both feet on the ground. He hopes beyond hoping his face comes across sincere. “Because I wasn’t there either.” He admits gently, watching for a response.
“I- what?” The man doesn’t appear to know what he’s meant to say. Well, time to rip the bandaid off.
“Captain, you’ve not been around for six thousand, have you? I’m willing to bet you haven’t even been around for 18.” The reaction is immediate. Marvel’s eyes widen, pupils shrinking with alarm, arms coming up as if in defence as he splutters some kind of excuse, and Danny interrupts before he can spiral too hard. “Dude, don’t worry. I seriously won’t tell anyone if you are- I’m not a snitch.”
The Captain’s expression looks utterly lost. “Why?”
Danny thinks it’s probably best to just bite the bullet here. He stands still as the transformation washes over him, bright silver-blue rings parsing over his form, exchanging gravity-defying white hair for scraggly black, hazmat for jeans and a sweater, and Lazarus-green eyes for a gentler blue. When the light finally dissipates, he gives the Captain a second just to process, before sending him a wry grin.
“Hi, Captain Marvel, I’m Phantom- otherwise known as Danny Fenton- Ambassador for the Infinite Realms and sixteen year-old half-human-half-ghost boy.”
The other hero stands still for a long, long moment, mute with shock, before muttering a quiet ‘Shazam’ and allowing the room to fill with the sudden crackle of a lightning bolt. Where the hulking form of Captain Marvel once stood, a boy is left in his place- eyes and hair the same, if a little less put together- but only just coming up to Danny’s shoulder, wearing clothes that have clearly seen a few years go by. If Danny had to guess, he looks about eleven or twelve
“Hi, Phantom,” He says, a little quieter but with more confidence than he’d had before, staring him resolutely in the eyes. “I’m Captain Marvel- also Billy Batson- champion of magic and twelve year-old and world’s mightiest mortal.”
Danny cannot resist reaching over to ruffle the kid’s hair. “Amazing to meet you,” He beams. “And if anyone asks, we’ve known each other since the Early Dynastic period of Egypt and are in no way human or related to any living humans. You good with that?”
Billy looks up at him with a gap in his teeth and mischief in his eyes.
“Phantom, I am more than okay with that.”
#dp/dc week 2022#Billy asks afterwards what all the historical evidence of Danny is about and Danny explains his time travel shenanigans#And invites Captain Marvel to join in on a few too just to really buff up their alibi#Billy discovers the joy of vandalism in Ancient Rome#Fun fact: I have no idea what happens in this fic because I finished it 1 minute ago and I'm too tired to read it over#If there's any mistakes we can all just ignore them and that's cool and fine!!#Title is from Let's Get This over With by They Might Be Giants because I was struggling for a name and it's just what I had on#dpxdc#dp au#danny phantom au#Bongo's Writing!!!
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Me working on my WIP's second chapter in a spite-filled writing haze after yesterday's awful news
#our flag flies forever#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd fic#fic writing#writing process#from the firmament#baby's second longfic#arranged marriage au#ancient rome AU (sorta)#edward teach#stede bonnet#gentlebeard#blackbonnet#chapter 2
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Si Vis Amari Ama
VIII. Let the Games Begin
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: 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 ⚔️
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Modern AU but Agrippa stumbles onto Octavian just finishing murdering someone. He’s horrified but he helps hides the body when Octavian asks him to.
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[link to tweet]
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As The Water Rises (Bob Floyd x Reader)
Summary: Ancient Rome AU where you take care of Bob after a long day
Notes: This is for the lovely @bradshawsbaby, my friend I've been reading SVAA lately and I LOVE IT!!!! I wanted to surprise you with this because it's all I had been thinking about for a while (lol). I do apologize for any spelling mishaps too my friend, I'm terrible with it sometimes.
Warnings: SMUT, sex, references to slavery etc. (ft. Coyote, Roman name Latranis and others)
Tagging: @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse
You were eager to go and meet Hrodebert, just as you always had, every day when the meetings at The Forum ended. You bid farewell to Sabina and Phoenix, walking with purpose through the marketplace, saying hello to some of the shopkeepers and statesmen who often found their way through there.
Your sandals flapped on the cobbled path that ran through the alleys until you came to those huge, imposing steps and the equally imposing façade of the building, held up by pillars as though they were the arms of Atlas himself......The Forum.
You found Hrodebert sitting on the steps, a grimace on his face and his head in his hand. You knew he hadn't been himself lately, but this clearly wasn't himself at all.
"Hrodebert?" you queried, tentatively sitting beside him.
He looked up at you with his soft blue eyes, a pained expression on his face. "M'so tired," he mumbled.
You scooted closer to him as he put his arms around you, letting his cheek rest on the crown of your head. You only realized how tired he truly was when you heard the gurgling of his belly, a sign that he must not have eaten anything since waking up.
"You didn't eat anything today, did you?" you asked him.
He shook his head.
You kissed his lips, uncaring of who saw you or who had chosen to make faces at the two of you. "Come on now," you said, helping him to his feet. "Lets go get something to eat and then we'll relax. I'm sure the bathhouses are open."
You led Hrodebert to one of the places, a little hole-in-the-wall thermopolium that sold hot food day and night. You and Hrodebert were starving, the smells of all the barbecuing meat, fish and spices wafting from the kitchens.
Your old friend, Latranis, the owner of the place, came and brought you everything you needed, letting you know it was on the house. The two of you ate your fill but left him a little something anyways, knowing that these days, good business was often hard to come by.
Off to the bathhouses you went, knowing that Latranis would probably be dropping by again later. Even after having come here for so long, you had forgotten how steamy, humid and sticky it could really be in here. But oh was it heaven after a long day.
You helped Hrodebert strip off his toga, his whole body aching, as you hung the cloth up on the hooks in the little niche. You yourself, stripped off your clothes and hung them with his, the both of you storing your sandals in a safe place for when you were done.
"You're too good to me," he mumbled, taking your hand in his.
You kissed his cheek, making him go red from his face all the way down to his chest. "You took care of me my love," you said, the pad of your thumb gently brushing his chin. "And now it's my turn."
Hrodebert gently pulled you towards a little tunnel into the halls that led to the caldariums. No one really batted an eyelash, thinking you were merely the slave girl to the son of a high ranking senator. Of course they hadn't really been wrong. It had started out that way when you and Hrodebert first met. You had been a mere girl taken from your tribe in Gaul, nearly sold to an old whorring wretch who would have surely had his way with you had it not been for Iosephus, Hrodebert's father. He too had known what it was like to be a slave, a Germanic general taken from his own people and forced to fight in the Coliseum for the sole entertainment of others. He had fought for his freedom.......fought and won.....the same as he had done for you and for his freeborn sons and daughters.
In you went with him, amazed at the sight of the room that lay before you with all its beautifully carved statues in the wall niches, the bathing pools and the cascades of vines and climbing flowers that made the place worthy enough for the gods themselves to enter.
Hrodebert lay right down on a towel laden wood table, his head resting on the tops of his hands while you straddled his towel covered butt. You could almost feel the aches and pains in the soft ripples of his muscles, strong but tired. Into your hands from one of the jars, you poured a coin sized drop of the Balm Of Gilead, an ointment you had bartered numerous times for in the markets for Gallus and Carnifex to use after a fight. You rubbed it right into his muscles, putting your palms and the balls of your hands into it to get those wretched kinks out.
"Oooooh right there my sweet......right there....." he moaned happily. "Ooooh fuck......feels so fuckin good....."
You chuckled a little as you kept rubbing it in, delighting in his happy little moans. You bent your head to kiss the freckles on his back, no doubt the marks of the sun from his days as a child and teenager, running around the streets of Alexandria with his brothers and sisters.
You were a little nervous as you braced yourself against one of the pillars, digging into his back with the heels of your feet and hearing his pleasurable groans as he told you everything about his day. God, you were both in heaven.....sheer, utter heaven.
Right into the steaming baths you went, floating about and relaxing on the brick steps that led down into the pool. You kissed your fiance's lips, rubbing your noses together, happy and content in your surroundings with just the two of you.
"Methinks you're gonna need a haircut soon," you chuckled.
"Oh am I now?" he said, smiling wryly into the kiss.
You laughed a little as your kissing deepened, slow at first, but growing more desperate and needy as Hrodebert tried to slip his tongue over your lips. He drew a moan from your mouth as he gently pulled you onto his lap, the water doing most of the work. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair at the nape of his neck, gently brushing against the shell of his ear.
Hrodebert sighed into your mouth as he trailed from your lips all along your jaw, his fingertips gently brushing against the black armband tattoo on your bicep, the ink all connected in swirls and knots, a mark of the tribe you had once belonged to.
You moaned as you felt his arousal growing between your legs, his big hands firmly and steadily gripping your hips to keep you from floating away. You reveled in the feeling of his hot breath going down your sternum and all along your naked breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples that had grown hard and pointed.
"So fuckin gorgeous," he mumbled in between kisses. "Can't wait to make you my wife.....see all those bitchy matrons get all jealous....."
You clenched your legs around him as you felt his cock stiffening inside you, your hips and his rocking together in a steady rhythm as he guided you up and down on his cock.
"C'mon sweetheart....." he urged. "C'mon......come for me.....c'mon, I know you have it in you....."
You felt his hips stuttering against yours, your head falling back and Hrodebert's hands firmly gripping you as you both came at the same time. Whether it was the steam or the relaxing hot water, your head fell against his shoulder, the two of you panting from the effort.
"My love you're amazing," he said with a sleepy smile, kissing your lips sweetly.
You smiled, gently brushing your fingertip against his button nose, tracing over his lips before returning the kiss.
"AW YEAH!!!!! GET IT!!!! GET IT!!!!!"
You and Hrodebert jumped at the sudden yelling, the hoots and hollers of three of your friends emitting from behind the pillars. Gallus, Carnifex and Latranis showed themselves a moment later with only a white towel around each of their waists, laughing, hollering and making lewd hip thrusts.
"Look at you making babies before you're married!" Latranis exclaimed.
"Didn't think you had it in you my man!" Carnifex laughed.
"I'm gonna have to try that now," Gallus remarked.
"OUT!!!!!! OUT!! YOU SLIMY, SKEEVY BASTARDS!!!!" Hrodebert thundered, chucking one of his sandals at them.
"Ow, fuck you!" Gallus laughed when the sandal slapped against his arm.
"Already did you sick pig!" Hrodebert retorted. "Gods! I can't believe you fucking idiots were watching us!"
"We heard you both coming down the halls," Carnifex told him.
Hrodebert groaned in annoyance but he couldn't ignore the laughing look on your face. "What?" he queried, giving you the side eye.
"I'm not saying anything," you giggled.
Hrodebert kissed you again, littering your cheek with his sweet pecks. "Don't worry my sweet," you told him. "If anything they'll get what's coming when they drop by the house for dinner."
"What'd you do?" he asked.
"Lets just say, I left your mother an extra basket of dried prunes to be stewed and served at dinner," you answered, wiggling your eyebrows.
Hrodebert laughed a little, knowing the three morons would be in for it later and if they ever dared do it again, they'd be served the same dish at your wedding.
#top gun maverick#robert bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#javy coyote machado#ancient rome au#si vis amari ama#thank you bradshawsbaby for letting me do this
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I ended up attempting a bit of concept art for my post-Ragnarok AU! From top to bottom, we have Greece, Rome, and Midgard XDD
These are technically background studies too since I struggle with perspective and wanted to practice! My references were screenshots of those “What did Ancient Greece/Rome look like?” videos on YouTube. Regardless of how accurate the videos are, they at least gave me that Greco-Roman inspired setting that I needed -- and besides, this is God of War, so historical accuracy isn’t totally necessary lololl
As for Kratos’ house, I think I messed up on the proportions, especially for the roof loll But overall, I’m quite happy with it! :DDD Unfortunately though (or maybe fortunately?), Kratos is not home when Atreus and Calliope visit the house ^^;;
#there's a video by manuel bravo that i'd like to practice with too#i'd love to try drawing the roman forum! it looks so cool#art#my art#god of war#god of war ragnarok#fanart#au#fantasy#illustration#concept art#environment art#atreus#calliope#ancient greece#ancient rome#midgard#god of war 2018#kratos
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Gods of the Arena
(and outside of it)
Is this really hapening? yes it is
A Gladiators AU, heavily inspired in Spartacus (but without all the blood, guts, death and angst), and in ancient Rome and its customs...
Warnings: slavery, technically skin trade, orgies, smut, adultery (they didn't care at this times), threesomes, and more
Gladiator!Cregan x Heiress!Reader
Cregan is a man that got enslaved when the Andals conquered the wild tribes of the North, he ends up being trained as a gladiator in the villa of a prominent family; a respectable marriage, and their daughter.
She is impressionable, and young, and as a young woman, she starts hearing tales of her friends about men, about their own gladiators and stories of orgies and sex… and she gets curious when she sees this beautiful man, a slave no less, training in his father’s villa.
Gladiator!Aegon x Domina!Reader
It was not uncommon for patrician families to… copulate… with their slaves and gladiators specially, you become... accustomed to this practice, your best friend Alys help you reunite with a man you had liked since you saw him fighting in the arena
Aegon takes a liking to this, rather than fights, specially with you who only wants to escape yout old husband
Gladiator Champion!Harwin Strong x Domina!Reader
Reader is married to Robyn Arryn, a young man from a Patrician family, Robyn prefers the company of men, he and reader have some sort of agreement.
Robyn “purchases” Harwin, an “old” champion of the Arena, in time, reader wants to have a child, he needs an heir, so they convince Harwin to “do the deed” with Reader, and father a child to her.
Reader is soft and sweet, she wants to go back to the valley to their family villa, but Robyn finds it more interesting the big city, men everywhere, orgies, parties, fights, money…
Gladiator!Aemond x Domina!Reader
Aemond is a gladiator in the same villa as his brother Aegon. He dreams about victories in the arena, and it's focused on his training and bringing honor to his Ludus.
His determination and skill makes him the favorite of his domina, Alys, who had inherited the Ludus from her father, the only problem they are both going to face is you, a young sweet slave, purchase to tend and serve your domina, who does not take kindly that you are “stealing” away her favorite gladiator, who is bessoted by your innocence and kindness in this rough ugly world
Trainer!Daemon x Empress!reader
Daemon is a legendary gladiator, but his days of glory are past him, now he trains a Ludus in the outskirts of King’s Landing, finally he has recovered some of the power he once had, now a free man.
His only problem at the moment is you, the daughter of the emperor, constant reminder that he is not as powerful as he liked to be, but he and you will have no problem lowering you to his level.
When? who knows I just came up with the idea MUAHAH
#misguidedhouse#house of the dragon au#cregan stark#daemon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#aemond targaryen#harwin strong#gladiators au#ancient rome au#misguidedgods
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TDIOBCB challenge - day 9:
Arranged Marriage - The Marriage of Alyn Velaryon and Lada Rogare in 142 AC
"Regrettably, despite his spirited and enterprising nature, Alyn was ill-prepared to manage a noble house of such importance.
His unexpected rise to Lordship of Driftmark, combined with a lack of specific upbringing due to his dark lineage, led to important challenges, as he found himself in possession of unparalleled wealth without proper guidance - and perhaps feeling the need to prove himself equal to other Lords despite his status as a bastard son - squandered a considerable sum on futile and reckless activities over the years.
Despite being a skilled navigator and ship captain, Alyn proved to be a terrible merchant with a poor sense of business. Numerous unfortunate investments led to substantial losses and debts with the banks.
To redeem these debts, the Lord was forced to accept the proposal of House Rogare, with whom the young Lord had contracted a large number of debts due to his great passion for the young women of Lys, who agreed to turn a blind eye as long as he married the young Lada, once a priestess of the Goddess Adera, and promised not to obstruct their commercial plans with Westeros.
Of that day, those present at the event mainly remembered the beauty and elegance of the young bride, dressed in a precious silk stole, but above all, the gloomy and despondent expression of the Lord, who, as a bachelor, finally surrendered to becoming a married man.
However, the tranquillity of married life seemed not to be for him, so as soon as he managed to impregnate the young Lady of Driftmark, Lord Alyn set sail with his ships on another expedition, and then another, and yet another, until the end of his long and tumultuous life.
From his wife, he had 3 children, Leanor, Marirlda, and Corlys, but it is believed that countless others were born from the many lovers he encountered in his travels through the Known World."
- from TDIOBCB chapter 1
(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)
#illustration#artists on tumblr#chiara cognigni's art#chiara's art#digital illustration#digital art#fanart#art#pre asoiaf#the doom in our blood comes back#tdiobcb#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf#asoiaf fanart#a song of ice and fire#alyn velaryon#house valeryon#house rogare#oc#original characrer#ancient rome#lys#challenge#ship#au divergence
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Lust in the arena
My brain started burning in the very moment I saw this post! @lovebillyhargrove
I needed to do it and I need to watch the movie rn, I'll be struggling until I could!
Not only guys think about Roman Empire all the time.
I wrote it in a row and I spent double the time editing it, I'll probably keep doing it.
Oh those bloody dirty boys!
“You’re mad, Caesar,” wheezed Steve, falling on the floor.
“I’d set this city on fire for you,” whispered the emperor, laying on the ground, after they calmed down and Steve took his head on his chest.
Rating: E
Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
WT: Blood and injuries, bloody fights
Words: 1913
little teaser under the cut!
“Should I see what I am buying?” he said, smiling lustful..
The gladiator guzzled the wine, his blood rushing in his throat, and went closer to the emperor, cleaning the corner of his mouth with his tongue. The emperor tucked a hand inside the tunic, touching his scars and nipples with another whine. The gladiator moaned in return, again looking directly in the emperor's eyes.
“Let me see,” moaned the emperor, his voice hoarse for excitement.
The gladiator took a little step behind, and opened the tunic dropping it to the ground. He blew on his hands and, without breaking eye contact, he started pumping his wank. The emperor flushed in desire.
“What’s your name?” asked the emperor, walking in front of him and sloppily took his dick in his hand.
“Steve”.
“Are you glad you survived the arena?” whispered the emperor, touching himself too above his tunic.
“I am, because I’m about to shove my dick in the emperor’s throat”, he smiled, slyly.
He was a dead body walking, and he was teasing the fate once more. He felt so hard teasing the most powerful man in the world.
The emperor smiled, and knelt in front of him.
#stranger things#writing#billy hargrove#harringrove#steve harrington#gladiator x emperor#ancient rome#ancient rome au#sean lockwood
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Oh my god I'm trying to polish off the last two scenes before Ed and Stede meet in this fic but they (and their respective inner monologues) will not shut up! I love my two neurodivergent kings but I should not have put a bunch of gifts between them because they won't stop picking shit up and noticing things about it.
#arranged marriage au#ancient rome AU (sorta)#writing woes#writing process#these verbose motherfuckers#ofmd au#edward teach#stede bonnet#gentlebeard#blackbonnet#ofmd#our flag means death#fic writing#ed has finally entered the chat but we're already halfway through my word count and nothing has happened 😬#from the firmament#chapter 2
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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
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“Good to see you again, little prince.”
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