I glared up at him, blinking away tears of frustration and fury.
“I saw my brother killed in front me, saw his blood soak the sand we played on as children. I saw my parents' bodies strung up like slaves, and I couldn’t even stop myself being taken captive, Marcus. I won’t be that weak again. I need to learn how to fight.”
For a moment, I thought I saw his resolve waver. His eyes softened, and his lips parted as though he were about to say something more. But then his expression hardened again, and he shook his head.
"No," he said firmly. "I won’t train you, Livia. Go back to the dining hall, or go to bed. But don’t come back here with this nonsense again."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture.
"Go," he said, his voice low and commanding.
I stood there for a moment, trembling with frustration and humiliation. Part of me wanted to shout at him, to demand that he take me seriously, but the look in his eyes stopped me. There was no cruelty there, no malice—only a deep, unshakable conviction that he was doing what was best for me.
I turned and walked to the door, my heart pounding in my chest. But as I reached for the handle, I paused and glanced back over my shoulder.
"I'm not giving up," I said quietly. "You can send me away a hundred times, but I’m not going to stop trying. One way or another, I’ll learn to fight. I’ll earn my freedom. And once I’m out of this place, I will find a way to make them pay for what they did.”
Marcus didn’t respond. He just stood there, his expression unreadable, as I opened the door and slipped out into the hall.
4
The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, casting eerie shadows across the desolate training grounds. Within the barracks, most had retired to the sleeping quarters. A few slaves on late kitchen duty still scurried about, but out in the arena, it was silent save for the faint sounds of night birds and insects. The scent of blood and sweat hung in the air, a reminder of the day's brutal training session.
I had left Marcus and returned to the arena, too angry and frustrated to sleep. I wasn’t going to be deterred from this path. I would train, I would learn to fight and to kill, and I would oneday get my revenge on those who had ripped my entire family from me. Now, though, I stood alone, my hands calloused and blistered from the last hour of relentless practice. A wooden practice sword hung loosely from one hand as I fought to catch my breath. My muscles ached from a day of hard labour, but I refused to let exhaustion win.
It wasn't hard to drive all thoughts of sleep from my mind. With each swing of my wooden sword, I envisioned the faces of those who had mercilessly slaughtered my family, fueling my determination. It was what made me rise two hours before the other slaves every day, stretching my body and going through my sword forms over and over again until the sun rose.
Sometimes Septimus would join me, and despite his strong dislike for me, I was a willing partner and we'd spar until my free time was over and I had to make for the kitchens to help serve the morning meal. At night though, I merely had to wait until the place was deserted and I could train as long as my body would let me. After today's work and training, I was ready to rest, but my mind wouldn't give in just yet.
My thoughts drifted back to that fateful day when my world was shattered. The smell of smoke still lingered in my nostrils, as did the sickening scent of blood. They had arrived without warning, torches blazing and swords gleaming under the moonlight - the emperor's legion, ruthless and unyielding. I had watched helplessly as my brother had been cut down in front of me, and when I closed my eyes I could still see the swaying bodies of my parents, ripped and brutalised by those who had sworn to protect us. Their imagined screams haunted my dreams, a constant reminder of the life that had been stolen from me.
I remembered the first time I had witnessed a gladiatorial match, the raw power and grace of the warriors as they fought for their lives. A plan had begun to form in my mind, a planthat would see me standing victorious over those who had taken everything from me. I would become a gladiator, I would learn to fight and to kill, and I would earn my freedom, or find some way to take it for myself. I would go to the imperial city and I would find out who ordered the attack on my village, and who carried it out. And then I would kill them all.
"Through blood and steel, I will forge myself into the instrument of their destruction," I vowed, my resolve solidifying with each word, as it did each morning and night when I spoke those words, my promise to myself.
"Talking to yourself, Aurelius?" a deep voice called out, interrupting my concentration. I sighed as I turned to see Septimus approaching, his muscular frame silhouetted against the remaining oil lamps that gave the barest of light to the arena sands. The moon had risen and the pale light glinted off his dark brown hair and tanned brown skin, sculpted over the years from his training. In the ten years we’d lived at the arena, he’d grown from a skinny boy into an attractive man, though his dislike for me had never wavered, and I hated him just as I always had. Still, he was the one thing left from my past. He leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, observing me.
"Training alone again?" he asked, knowing all too well the answer.
My grip tightened around my sword, my knuckles turning white. Why did even the sound of his voice wind me up so much?
"Sometimes one must train alone where there are none worthy to face even in practice," I replied, fighting a smile.
Septimus grinned.
"I won’t fall for that one. I sparred with you only two days ago, and the hour is late."
I raised my eyebrows, swirling my sword in my hand to loosen the muscles as I goaded the trained killer before me.
"Off to bed already, Septimus? Age must be a terrible burden." In fairness, he was only two storms older than me, and most certainly in the prime of his fighting career, but it was fun to wind him up.
"I may be off to bed, but I have energy for things other than fighting and I am on my way to find a tasty little slave to accompany me."
I dropped into the third sword form, moving through the positions at half strength.
"I remember when you were more devoted to training than you were to your cock, Septimus."
"Ah but I achieved my goal. I am now a gladiator, and more than willing to accept the benefits of that accomplishment. Namely, food, rest and fucking. But, your commitment is adorable, Livia," Septimus said.
