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I hadn't meant to eavesdrop. I was just heading to the equipment room to check on a broken sword strap when I heard Marcus' voice drifting from Drusus' office. Something in his tone made me pause in the shadows of the corridor.

"Tarshi's back in training," Marcus was saying. "The wounds are healing well enough. He can still barely move after a full session, but he's pushing through the pain. He'll be ready for the tournament."

"The Talfen? He'd better be," Drusus' voice was sharp. "That flogging was meant to motivate him, not break him. Though I must say, watching the skin split beneath the whip certainly motivated the others, didn't it?" He laughed, a sound devoid of any real humor. "Nothing like a public punishment to remind them all of their place."

I could hear the tension in Marcus' voice when he responded. "All the fighters are progressing well. Livia especially - she's already surpassing her previous form."

The way he said her name made something twist in my gut. There was too much warmth there, too much pride. It confirmed what I'd been trying to deny all morning - the subtle glances I'd noticed at breakfast, the way their fingers had brushed when he passed her the bread, the soft smile she'd tried to hide behind her cup. There was something different about them both today, a change so slight you might miss it if you hadn't been watching for it. But I'd been watching Livia for so long I could read every subtle shift in her expression, every quiet breath, every unconscious movement of her hands.

"And you're certain you can get them ready in time?"

"Yes, Dominus. Speaking of which..." Marcus paused, and I could hear him shifting his weight. "About our arrangement - your promise of freedom if we win..."

"Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten." Drusus sounded irritated at the interruption. "Win me the tournament, and you'll have your freedom and enough coin to set yourself up properly. Though I must say, I'll miss having such an effective trainer. The way you handle them is... impressive."

"There's something else." Marcus' voice was careful now, measured. "I want Livia included in the deal."

The scratching of Drusus' stylus stopped. When he spoke again, there was dark amusement in his voice. "Ah, so that's how it is? Finally decided to stick your cock in my little Livia, did you? Took you long enough. Can’t say I blame you, she’s exquisite. That tight little pussy that just sucks in round your cock when you-”

"Dominus, please-" Marcus' voice was strained.

"What's wrong, Marcus? Don't like being reminded that she's my property?" Drusus' voice dripped with cruel enjoyment. "That while you're training her during the day, she's warming my bed at night? That every inch of that beautiful body belongs to me, to do with as I please?"

I could hear Marcus' breathing, harsh and uneven. My own hands had curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.

"If you win me the tournament," Drusus continued, "you can have her. Though I wouldn't have thought you'd want to pay for something you're already getting for free and I doubt she'll thank you for it - that one's got more fire than sense. She'll never be content spreading her legs for a retired gladiator in some miserable little farmhouse." He paused. "But then again, maybe I'll keep her anyway. After all, why should I give up something that brings me so much... pleasure?"

I didn't wait to hear Marcus' response. I was already moving, my feet carrying me away before I could betray my presence. My mind was chaos, a storm of emotions I couldn't sort through. Anger, betrayal, hurt - but the worst part was that I had no right to feel any of it.

The training yard swam before my eyes as I stumbled into the morning sunlight, my head pounding with things I couldn't unhear. Drusus' voice echoed in my mind, crude and mocking, talking about Livia's body like she was meat at the market. My Livia. No - not mine. Never mine. The only man she didn't want, apparently.

And there she was, running through her forms with that fluid grace that had first caught my eye years ago, back when I still thought I could keep my promise to Tarus. "Watch over her," he'd made me swear, his blood hot on my hands. "Keep her safe." Some fucking job I'd done of that.

Marcus emerged from the building behind me. I didn't turn to look, but I could feel his presence, hear his footsteps falter slightly when he saw me. My friend. My brother in arms. The man who was fucking the woman I loved. I couldn’t deny it any more. I loved her. I’d probably always loved her, I wasn’t sure. It had snuck up on me, consuming me before I even noticed and now it was too late. She was the very air I breathed, the warmth of the sun, the cool water that revived me. She was everything I lived for. And I was nothing to her.

I watched as he crossed to where Livia trained. She turned as he approached, and there it was - that softness in her eyes that I'd spent years dreaming about, that I'd never once seen directed at me. He corrected her stance with careful hands, and my mind flashed to those same hands on her body, touching her the way Drusus touched her, the way every man but me seemed to get to touch her-

"Septimus!" Marcus called out, his voice perfectly normal, like he hadn't just been bargaining for her like a piece of property. "Come spar with Livia. She needs to practice against someone closer to her height."

I wanted to tell him to fuck off. Wanted to scream at him to keep his hands off my woman. Except she wasn’t mine. Could never be mine. And now one day soon, she’d be his. Instead, I picked up a practice sword, my grip so tight my knuckles went white. This was what we did, after all. We fought. We bled. We pretended.

Livia settled into her fighting stance, and gods help me, she was beautiful. How many nights had I lain awake, sick with wanting her? How many times had I listened to Drusus' footsteps in the corridor, knowing where he was going, knowing what he was doing to her? And now Marcus too - Marcus, who she chose, who she wanted.

"Begin!" Marcus called.

Our swords met with a crack that jarred my teeth. I attacked with everything I had, every suppressed feeling, every night of jealousy and self-loathing flowing through my arms. Livia matched me blow for blow, her face set in that fierce concentration I loved so much. That I had no right to love.

"Keep your guard up!" Marcus shouted. The concern in his voice made me want to vomit. How dare he pretend to care about her safety when he was just another man using her?

But wasn't that what I wanted too? To have her, to own her, to make her mine? I was no better than any of them. Worse, maybe - at least they were honest about their desires. I hid mine behind nobility and promises to a dead man, pretending I was different, pretending I was good.

Livia spun away from my attack, her sword whistling past my ear. Too close - I'd lost focus. She pressed her advantage, driving me back across the sand, and suddenly all I could think about was her body against Marcus', her lips on his, her in Drusus' bed, everywhere but with me, wanting everyone but me-

My next swing came in too hard, too wild. Livia barely managed to deflect it, stumbling back with widened eyes. "Watch it, Septimus!" Marcus barked from the sidelines. "This is practice, not the arena!"

I ignored him, pressing forward. Livia recovered quickly - she always did - meeting my attacks with increasing intensity. A thin sheen of sweat made her skin glow in the morning light. I remembered how she used to laugh during our sparring matches, how sometimes her hand would linger on my arm after a good bout. Now she just watched me with wary eyes, like I was a stranger. Like I was dangerous.

"What's wrong with you today?" she hissed under her breath as our swords locked.

I leaned in close, close enough to smell the lavender oil she used in her hair. "Nothing's wrong," I said, my voice cold. "Just tired of pretending."

The confusion in her eyes made something twist in my gut. She didn't even know what she did to me. How every smile, every casual touch was like a knife between my ribs. How watching her with Marcus was slowly driving me mad.

I shoved her back harder than necessary, our swords scraping apart with a screech of metal. She stumbled but kept her footing, her expression hardening into something like hurt before she masked it.

"Septimus-" she started, but I cut her off with another attack.

"Save it," I snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your games today."

"Games?" Her voice cracked slightly. "What are you talking about?"

Before I could answer, Marcus stepped in. "That's enough for now. Take a break, cool off."

I threw my practice sword down with more force than necessary, watching it bounce in the sand. Livia stood there, chest heaving, looking at me like she didn't recognize me. Good. Maybe it would be easier this way.

"Septimus, wait-" she called after me as I turned to leave.

I stopped but didn't turn around. "What for?" I asked, my voice flat. "Don't you have someone else to occupy your time?"

I walked away before she could respond, leaving her standing there in the morning sun. Let her wonder. Let her hurt. It was nothing compared to the acid eating away at my insides every time I saw her with him.

Behind me, I could hear Marcus' low voice, probably comforting her, probably touching her with those careful hands of his. I wanted to turn around. Wanted to apologize. Wanted to tell her everything.

Instead, I kept walking.

I made it as far as the water barrel before my hands started shaking. Plunging them into the cool water, I tried to wash away the feeling of her nearness, the memory of hurt in her eyes. Behind me, I could hear the rhythmic clash of swords resuming - Marcus taking my place as her sparring partner, no doubt. Always Marcus now.

"Here."

Her voice startled me. I hadn't heard her approach, hadn't expected her to follow. Livia stood there holding out a cloth, her face carefully neutral. Acting like nothing was wrong, like she always did. Like the perfect little gladiator she'd become.

I took the cloth without looking at her, dried my hands with sharp, angry movements. "Shouldn't you be training?"

"Marcus is working with Maro. Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

"Nothing to tell." I made to move past her, but she stepped into my path.

"Bullshit." Her voice was low, intense. "You've been different lately. Distant. And now this?" She reached for my arm. "Talk to me, Sep. Please."

The nickname hit me like a punch to the gut. She hadn't called me that since before... before everything. Before I'd watched her grow from a scrappy kid into this beautiful, deadly woman who haunted my dreams. Before I'd failed to protect her from Drusus. Before Marcus. And the gods knew who else.

I jerked away from her touch. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't pretend you care." The words came out harsh, bitter. "Don't act like we're still friends, like nothing's changed."

Color flooded her cheeks. "I'm not pretending anything! You're the one who's been avoiding me, who barely speaks to me anymore, who looks at me like-" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

"Like what?" I stepped closer, too close, watching her pulse jump in her throat. "Like I see you nearly getting yourself killed? Or fucking your way through the ludus?"

Her hand cracked across my face before I registered she was moving. The slap echoed in the sudden silence of the alley, and I realised we were standing maybe ten yards from where I’d first kissed her.

"How dare you," she whispered. "You don't know anything."

"I know enough." I touched my stinging cheek, laughing without humor. "I've watched you with all of them over the years. Watched you go to their beds. To his bed. And now Marcus-"

"Stop it," she hissed, but I was beyond stopping now.

"Why not me?" The words ripped out before I could stop them. "Am I not good enough? Not strong enough? What is it about me that disgusts you so much?"

Her eyes widened. "What? Sep, I never-"

I didn't let her finish. Grabbing her arms, I crushed my mouth to hers, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say. She made a startled sound against my lips, her body tensing, but she didn't pull away.

For a moment, everything else fell away. There was only the softness of her lips, the heat of her body pressed against mine, the taste of her that I'd dreamed about for so long. My hands slid down her arms, gripping her waist, pulling her closer. And for one glorious, heartstopping second, I thought she might be kissing me back.

Then she shoved me away, hard enough that I stumbled back a step. Her chest heaved as she stared at me, eyes wide and wild.

"What the fuck, Septimus?" she hissed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The rejection stung worse than her slap. Anger and humiliation warred inside me, making my voice rough when I spoke. "What's wrong, Livia? Isn't this how you solve all your problems?"

Her face went white, then flushed with fury. Her hand snapped up to slap me again, but this time I caught her wrist, wrapping my fingers tightly around it.

"Stop it," she said, her voice shaking. "This isn't you. You're not like this."

"You don't know me at all," I spat. "You never have." I started down the alley, dragging her through the door on the left and into the building where our rooms were situated. I shared with three other men, but they would all still be at training. We stumbled through the doorway, and I kicked it shut behind us. The room was dim, lit only by thin shafts of sunlight filtering through gaps in the wooden walls. The air was thick with the smell of leather and oil.

I pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with my body. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide and searching my face. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something there - desire? Fear? - before it was replaced by anger.

"You're hurting me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

"Good," I snarled. "Maybe now you'll know how it feels."

I crushed my mouth to hers again, kissing her roughly. She bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood. The sharp pain only fueled my desire. I ground my hips against hers, letting her feel how much I wanted her.

She struggled against my grip, her body writhing against mine in a way that made my blood burn.

My hands roamed her body roughly, gripping her hips and pulling her against me. Part of me was screaming to stop, that this wasn't right, but I was too far gone. Years of suppressed desire and jealousy were pouring out of me.

"Stop fighting me," I growled against her neck. “I outrank you. If I want you in my bed, you do as you’re told.”

I didn’t stop to hear her reply. I dragged her across the room, throwing her down on my pallet, pinning her to it as I pulled up her leather skirt.

"Stop," she whispered. I froze. Her voice sounded so wrong. Small, and afraid. Not like her at all. I looked down at her face, truly seeing her without the red haze of anger that had blinded me. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, and there was a look in her eyes I hadn’t seen since we were children. Absolute terror. Her expression was like a bucket of cold water. I stumbled back, horror washing over me as I realized what I'd almost done. I’d told myself she wanted it too, that if I just showed her how I felt, she’d come to me, want me.

I staggered backwards, my hands shaking as the reality of what I'd almost done crashed over me. Livia sat up slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. The fear was fading, replaced by something worse - pity.

"Sep..." she said softly, reaching out a hand.

I flinched away from her touch. "Don't," I choked out. "Just... don't. I’m a monster."

Shame burned through me, making it hard to breathe. I'd sworn to protect her, and instead I'd become the very thing I'd tried to shield her from. I was no better than Drusus, no better than any of the men who'd used her over the years.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words feeling wholly inadequate. "Gods, Livia, I'm so sorry."

I watched helplessly as she stood, smoothing her clothes with trembling fingers. She wouldn't meet my eyes. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "When did you become... this?"

I couldn't meet her eyes. "I don't know," I said honestly. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you with him. With any of them. It was driving me mad."

"So you thought forcing yourself on me was the answer?" There was no anger in her voice, just a deep, crushing sadness.

"No! I didn't... I wasn't thinking clearly. I just wanted...I didn’t mean to…"

"Didn't you?" Her voice was flat, emotionless. She looked at me then, and the emptiness in her eyes was worse than any anger or hatred. "You said it yourself. You're tired of pretending."

I flinched. "That's not what I meant. Livia, please, I’m so sorry. I lost control. I never meant to hurt you. I would never..."

"But you did," she said softly. "You did hurt me, Sep. Not just physically. You betrayed my trust."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. "I know," I whispered. "Gods, Livia, I know. I'm so sorry. I don't... I don't know how to make this right."

She was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler. "You can't.”

I heard the door close softly and her footsteps fade away along the corridor. I could have gone after her, but I didn’t want to do any more damage. So instead I sat on the edge of my bed and wept like a child as my world fell apart around me.