He was burning. He was burning from the inside out.
Every kiss he left along her neck was like fire, the impression of his lips a scorching brand on her pale skin. Distantly, he could hear her moans, but the crackling of the flames was louder. Her fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders before tracing down to his chest, her every touch as cool as he was hot. He couldn't help but notice how her hands looked deceivingly fragile, but the thought was fleeting.
His mouth opened as he felt her slide onto him, and in a second all of the burning hot pain from the fire around him was quenched. Her figure was slim as she bucked on top of him, her hair a strawberry blonde that flowed almost endlessly down her shoulders. She seemed as though she was crafted more out of water or silver rather than blood and bone. He could feel the muscles from his legs to his neck tensing as she moved faster, her fingernails scratching against his chest and leaving long red lines as she smiled at him. He could see her lips moving, but the only thing he could hear was the fire. The fire and the screaming.
Screaming.
She laughed in the second before she arched her back, her head tilting upwards as her legs shook against his.
He was burning. He was really burning.
Aegeus' eyes shot open as the flames burned his skin, the massive fire roaring almost deafeningly loud around him. He scrambled to his feet as his fingers fumbled with the binds on his leather armor, light from a hole in the mud roof shining in his eyes as he was finally able to toss the leather away. There was no woman in the room with him. No crimson hair. No laugh. Nothing.
"What?... Where?..." He muttered as he shoved his mind past the pain in his arm and the lingering dream, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the door of the burning hot building and into the cool autumn air.
The sound of the fires inside the burning hut paled in comparison to that of the crowd, and all of Rome seemed to be sitting in the stands.
"He lives!" The announcer cried from the Imperial box, eliciting a fresh wave of cheers and boos alike. "He survives the fall!"
Before Aegeus could move, he felt his burned skin wash with fresh pain. The arrow sunk into the mud behind him as he gripped his arm, screaming again as the touch on singed flesh brought a fresh hell all its own along with the arrow's cut. He didn't think after that, he just dived for the corpse a few feet away.
The dull thud of arrows echoed against the body as Aegeus braced himself, his fingers wrapping around the dead man's sword as he hoisted him up. Aegeus couldn't see anything in front of him as he ran forward, but the sound of arrows punching into his man-made shield told him he was going in the right direction. He peaked over the shoulder just in time to see the archer, the Nubian's skin as dark as night. He tried to move out of Aegeus' way, but the Greek was too quick. The body slammed into the archer before Aegeus' sword plunged into his side, twisting up under the ribs with practiced ease. The archer dropped his bow and looked his killer in the eyes, whispering what Aegeus could only think to be a last prayer to his gods.
Aegeus didn't speak as the Nubian died, sliding him off the sword before turning around. The whole coliseum was packed, and dirt and sand of the arena had been replaced with a maze of mud buildings and huts. In the center he could see three stone pyramids, poor representations of the real thing but the crowd didn't seem to care.
He almost didn't see the second warrior lung out from behind the column, the Nubian's curved blade slicing over his arm only to leave the barest cut. Aegeus sliced back with his sword, opening the man's throat and sending him gurgling to the ground. He heard screams then, war cries, and from the mock city he saw three more rushing towards him. He didn't have much time to think as he snatched up the bow at his feet, pulling back the string and loosing an arrow into the center warrior. The Nubian collapsed to the ground as the arrow sunk into his chest, but that was all Aegeus had time for before the other two closed in. The first swing cleaved the bow in half, but it was enough of a distraction to allow Aegeus' dagger to sink into the gladiator's thigh.
The third Nubian circled around his dead brother, lunging out at Aegeus. He swung his sword at the Greek, each pass of the iron forcing Aegeus to duck and scramble. All the while the crowd still roared in adoration, their cheers loud enough to make the ground itself tremble.
"Alex-ander! Alex-ander! ALEX-ANDER!" The crowd chanted, the word like thunder in Aegeus' ears. He and the last Nubian were circling each other now, and each could see the intensity in the other. They both knew how this would end.
The Nubian lurched forward, his sword coming down in a powerful arc only to clang against the dirt. Aegeus' arms wrapped around the Nubian as they both crashed into the ground, the sword tumbling out onto the arena floor as the two wrestled. Dirt and sand kicked up in a cloud, and Aegeus' eyes watered as he tried to see through all the grim and blood. His hands searched over the other gladiator, finding purchase around the dark-skinned man's neck before Aegeus instinctively pushed down.
He blinked furiously, the eyes of the Nubian soon coming into view. It wasn't the first time he had strangled a man to death, but Aegeus took no risks. Once, twice, thrice, he slammed the man's head into the ground. Slamming him over, and over, and over, again until he finally saw a certain stillness in the Nubian's eyes. Then, it was over.
"The battle was won!" The announcer cried, grinning from ear to ear as he shifted his bluberous form in the stands. "So, Alexander the Great conquered the glorious and ancient metropolis of Mephis, slaying each of the Pharoah's guards with the strength and skill of mighty Mars himself!"
Mars.
Aegeus looked up to the stands as he moved to face it properly, gritting his teeth as he prepared for the humiliation that was to come.
"Aphrodite..." The word was on his lips, but he didn't know why.
"In his victory, Alexander's army, under the command of Antigious, flooded the city, looting it of all the gold and riches left behind by the decadent and greedy peoples of Egypt!"
The crowd ate it up.
But, lacking proper discipline, the looting soon turned into a blood bath of its own!" The announcer boomed as Aegeus set his jaw, the gate opening in front of him and a mass of fellow gladiators rushing out to further sate the bloodlust of an empire. It was his time to go, he knew that, and so he pushed his way past the men who were about to die.
"Captain! By the Gods, we thought you had gone to Hades!"" Eutropius shouted as Aegeus entered the undercroft, his black curled hair bouncing with almost as much enthusiasm as the young man. "Or should I say, Alexander?"
Aegeus snatched a cup of water from one of the other gladiators, gulping it down before tossing it over his shoulder. He ignored the dark haired man.
"Yes." Another man joined, a smile on his face as he hefted a heavy maul over his shoulder. "That ass kicking you just handed out is one the Dominus'll fuckin' cream himself over. Bet he won a ship's worth of denarii off that one."
The Dominus can suck my cock.
Aegeus wiped the blood from his face, looking at the burn on his arm. The stinging on his arm was starting to return now, and he knew what that meant. He didn't say a single word to either of his friends as he left the undercroft and ventured further into the bowels of the arena. The whole place was a cesspit of flesh, shit, and blood, the working underbelly of Rome's greatest attraction. Every step he had to push his way past gladiator's, their handlers, workmen, and slaves of every shape and sort. They were all ants, little ants busy with the work of entertaining the world's greatest city.
Aegeus had vowed long ago to burn it all down.
Light started to filter into the hallway as he entered the outer ring. It was the underground area nearest the outside of the coliseum, and he could hear the sounds of the city from the grates up above. He ducked through a doorway and into a large room, the whole place filled with wounded gladiator's from the day's games. A few of them sat up and cheered at him, at least as much as they could, but Aegeus didn't respond as he sat on the first empty cot he could find.
Removing his armor was a painful affair, but he did so as he waited for the next apothecary to tend his wounds. It had been almost six months since he had first arrived in Rome, and every time they called him into the games he found himself with new scars.
"Aegeus." The voice was stern as stone, and without looking Aegeus already knew who it was. "That was extraordinarily well done. One might have thought that you actually regretted killing those Nubian bastards."
Again, Aegeus said nothing, and he knew what it would cost him.
"You have earned my grace with that victory, but do not test me, Aegeus." The Roman replied, pulling his girdle tight over his tunic as he frowned. By all accounts Centurian Marcus Crassus was a handsome man, at least by Rome's rigid standards. There was no doubt that he would one day be a senator, and his cruelty made him perfect for the position.
Nevertheless, Aegeus did not move.
The flog hit his shoulder hard, tearing at his skin as Marcus' guards roughly grabbed Aegeus. It took only a few cracks of the metal tipped flog, along with some muscle from the guards, to put the Greek on his knees, but he made sure that Marcus knew it was not by choice.
"I should kill you for your disobedience." Marcus squatted down on his haunches, squinting slightly as he turned Aegeus' bruised and bloodied face. "I am done with you." Marcus rubbed his clean-shaven jaw as though he had just suffered some great inconvenience. "And for a handsome sum on top of the slaves I took in return. I hope you enjoy your new owner, Aegeus of Corinth."
Marcus ended the conversation by sinking his fist into Aegeus' stomach, leaving the Greek in the infirmary to do as he will. Aegeus waited for a few long minutes to regain his strength before pushing himself back up to the cot. He looked over his body inspecting himself as best he could in order to ascertain how much damage Marcus might have caused. Grazes, cuts, a few of them deep, but none of them phased him quite so much as the deep scratches on his chest.
*****
"I am ashamed to admit, but she came to me in my chamber. It was dark, and I could not see what she was doing. Not until, not until." The citizen paused, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he swallowed. His dark curls were slick with sweat, plastered against his forehead in greasy 'o's. The effect would have been almost comical if his words weren't a death sentence. "Until she was on me. I swear upon all the oaths in the city, upon my worth as a man, that I did not realize who it was! I never would have crossed the gods with such sin, and I have visited the temple every day in my prayers for forgiveness. I fear their wrath above my mortal shame."
Her slow clap rang through the hall, the sound echoing off the pillars like a stone dropping. She wondered if the sound of her head falling would echo like that. There was no reason to believe that it wouldn't be happening shortly. "What an excellent touch, even I almost believe you." Portia turned to look at the Pontifex Maximus, his wizened brow furrowing in disapproval. It didn't do to speak like this, not at all, but the die had already been cast. The tips of her fingers felt numb, but if it was with cold or another emotion she couldn't say.
"He's lying, you have to believe that." The Pontifex wouldn't believe it. "I don't know his name, nonetheless where he lives! I wouldn't lie with him if my life depended on it." It did. "Does my oath no longer carry weight at all? There was a time that I would have been believed over a common beggar." Portia stared at the magistrate, dark eyes blazing as her words were whispered back by the marble. She might as well have been arguing with the stone itself.
"And why would he lie, Portia of the Veraii? To do so would mean his own death." The Pontifex looked down at her, his brow creasing. He looked like nothing so much as an over-sized beetle, hunched over his shell of a podium. By every indication he seemed to be molting, thin tufts of hair struggling to cover his increasingly bare carapace.
"I don't know! Maybe it's to avenge himself on my father, to...to..." Even she couldn't think of reason. What did anyone have to gain by killing her? It was the most absurd thing, and it was going to get her killed.
