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"There is no such thing as pure pleasure; some anxiety always goes with it."

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[violence, blood, implied torture]

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The litter was lifted off of the ground, and began to move. It swayed and thumped with each footstep of the servants carrying it, but the journey was comfortable, and heated with the soft glow of the sun passing through the sheer canopy roof.

George fidgeted with the hem of his toga, rolling it between his fingers as his eyes were once again trained on the outside world. He admired the lush greenery that passed by the litter; tress full of brightly coloured fruit and grape vines sprouting haphazardly along their wire fences.

The litter that both George and Karl lay in was just large enough for two people. The bed was layered in silks and cotton sheets of blue and white. Intricately sewn pillows propped up the two men's shoulders, encompassing their heads in a comfortable position.

The roof and walls were made of sheets layered one on top of the other. They billowed and rippled with every gust of wind, but still they remained, hiding the emperor and his companion from the prying eyes of plebeians. However, the curtains on George's side were pressed every so slightly open, so the emperor was able to admire the vivid beauty that Rome had to offer.

A little while later, after the litter had trekked cautiously through the heart of Rome, it was placed gently on the ground, signalling their arrival. A guard arrived at George's door, offering a hand to help the emperor out.

George took the offer, clasping onto the guards hand as he climbed out of the litter, squinting against the sunlight. Karl was helped out by another servant on the other side, and the two friends reunited a few feet away from the parked litter.

George scoffed. "Okay Karl, tell me. Where are we?"

"Well," Karl smiled sheepishly. "We're at a gladiator viewing."

"Seriously? What about the games?!"

Karl laughed. "The games don't start for another hour. We have time to spare."

George scowled, folding his arms over his chest. He looked around skeptically, furrowing his brows as he asked: "What do you do at a gladiator viewing?"

"Oh, well, you look at half-naked, oil-lathered men sweltering in the heat of the sun." Karl grinned, battering his eyelashes.

"That sounds predatory." George said, bemusedly.

The two friends, flanked by a couple of burly looking guards, began walking towards a row of beautifully sculpted buildings. George marvelled at the architecture; the spines, the curves, the eaves, the awnings; all made by the skilled hand of a Roman.

After examining his surroundings, Karl turned to George, grinning: "I'm excited."

"I bet you are." George said, nudging his friend in the ribs as they walked down a wide alley.

The alley was clean and swept of any dirt and dust. Above, lines of colourful flags strung between the two walls of the adjacent buildings. They fluttered noisily in the breeze, vivid fabric a stark contrast against the clay-coloured brick of the buildings.

"It's a beautiful day today." Karl remarked as they walked through the end of the alley, and into an open square. It was lined with a few market stalls, selling shiny trinkets and floral smelling perfumes.

In the middle of the square though, was a gathering crowd, circling around a group of nervous-looking gladiators, standing on wooden boxes.

George raised an eyebrow. "This is where you spend most of your time?"

"It is, actually," Karl bit back. "At least I don't spend my time getting drunk by myself in my room."

George chuckled at this, the pair approaching the ring of people. The guards which had been accompanying them had quickly melted into the shadows, silently watching from the dark.

"Welcome! Come view some of the best, strongest gladiators in all of Rome!" The ludus owner spoke excitedly to the crowd.

There were about ten gladiators, all standing poised on top of wooden crates. They were half-naked and glistening under the sun. Whether their shine was from oils from the sun or their own perspiration, George did not know.

The crowd ogled the fighters, and George scoffed inwardly. These were the same people who cheered for their deaths and booed at the lack of bloodshed. These were the same people who cowered away from the gladiators when they got to close to the edge of the ring.

George clicked his tongue in thought. These people, grabbing at the gladiators muscled arms and tugging at their chains, were the same people who would never be caught dead even conversing with these fighters.

After all, gladiators were at the very bottom of Roman hierarchy.

Karl nudged George with his shoulder, leaning close. "What do you think, huh?"

He laughed quietly behind his hand as George looked around, eyes settling on a gladiator at the back of the group. He was the tallest of the lot, gleaming in the evening sun. His blond hair was thrown back out of his face and George smiled, noticing the mask.

The mask was splattered with blood, the only thing on the gladiator that appeared to not have been throughly cleaned. Even the fighters themselves had been scrubbed spotless: no specks of dirt or red bodily fluids present on their bodies at all.

The gladiator was dressed in a white wrap skirt, covering his lower half and went to above his knees. On top of that, strips of leather which ended in triangular points, fastened with a belt of tanned cows hide and detailed with gold.

His chest was bare asides from metal shoulder armour, secured in place with leather straps that ran diagonally across his chest. He, like the other gladiators, had no weapon on him, so his fists remained clenched at his sides.

The mask the gladiator wore was round and white, with two narrow slits for his eyes. It was secured to his head with a thin strap, fastened with a buckle, and it's smooth surface was stained with reds and browns.

"Oh." George felt himself whisper as the fighter he had been appraising turned around, back now to the audience. On his back, large, angry cuts cried out in agony. Lashes, raw and weeping, peeled beneath the watchful gaze of the emperor and the heat of the sun.

George wanted to say something, but his throat was closed tight as he looked at the fresh scars that decorated the gladiators exposed back. Older scars also covered the rest of his exposed body, along with bruises of black and blue, blooming along his back, chest and arms.

Looking closer, George noticed that his knees were badly grazed, with small beads of blood collecting on the edges of the minuscule cuts. His knuckles and fingers also appeared to have been dragged along concrete, and this made George feel queasy.

"He looks pretty beaten up." George turned to Karl, but he wasn't paying attention.

He was too busy essentially salivating over a sulking dark-haired gladiator with a strip of white cloth tied around his head.

George rolled his eyes, focusing his attention back to gladiator he had grown interested in.

Who, as it just so happens, was staring at George, with his head cocked to the side in a gesture of innocent curiosity.

George swallowed thickly, meeting the gaze of the gladiator. He was thankful that the crowd was yet to notice his presence as he timidly turned to Karl, whispering: "I think it's time to go."

"What? We've been here for five minutes."

"Please, Karl. Can we go?"

Karl looked from his friend, over to the group of gladiators, which then painted a smile on his face. "Oh."

"Oh?" George was tugging on his friends toga. "What's oh?"

"You have a certain gladiator admiring you."

George flicked his eyes over to the blond gladiator, who was still looking at him. He shuddered, turning his back on the crowd and the fighters.

"Let's go, Karl."

The emperor dragged his friend away from the fighters and crowd, which had suddenly noticed their presence. Cheering and calling at the Roman royalty, they followed George, Karl and the guards out of the square.

Down the alley and back out into the city streets they went, watching as George and Karl hopped hurriedly into the litter. The guards picked it off of the ground with relative ease, before walking briskly away from the admiring cluster of plebeians.

After a moment of silence, Karl laughed. George shot a look at Karl, who answered the look with a bemused shake of his head.

"What is it now?" George sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nightmare has taken an interest in you."

"His name is Nightmare?" George asked.

Karl nodded. "He's the best gladiator in all of Rome, too. And it appears as though he was looking right at you."

"I'm the emperor of Rome, Karl," George said in an obvious tone. "Of course he was looking at me."

"Okay, calm down Cleopatra," Karl raised his hands defensively. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't the reason he was looking."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just know these things."

"Really? Just like you knew there was going to be a gladiator viewing this evening," said George. "A gladiator viewing that you didn't even tell me we were going to."

"You wouldn't have come otherwise!"

"True," George admitted. He then thought for a moment, mulled over his thoughts before wondering aloud: "How did you know about this viewing?"

"Some people told me."

"Some... people? You know people that just, what? Attend gladiator viewings?"

"Yes, George, obviously."

"Seriously?"

Karl sighed. "Yes George! I know people!"

"You know people?"

"Yes. I have connections, domine."

"As far as I'm aware, I'm your only friend." George muttered mockingly.

"Ha. Ha." Karl punctuated. "Very funny."

George smirked before Karl added: "Technically, you're my boss."

"Oh, shut up." George's smirk dissolved as he looked through the gaps in the litters fabric walls, realising that they had arrived at their final destination of the night: the games.

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Hey homies, this is an authors note!

• litter - a bed like thing that would be carried around by people or by animals, reserved usually for empresses/royalty or those of high status

Fun fact but actually really sad fact: I wrote this chapter at 1am 🤪✌️ omg so quirky

Anyway, how are you? How has your day been? Drink water and stay swag <3

Until next time,

Blue :)