So, this fic is based on a wonderful book by Kate Quinn called "Mistress of Rome", which I recommend you all go out and read. It is also my first real serious fic, so please be nice. My knowledge of the X-Men universe is based on the movies, my own head-canon and little things I've pick up from Wikipedia. But really, this is an AU, so continuity means very little.

This is basically an all human, ancient Rome AU. Charles is a Celt from Britannia (more details on that later) and Erik is a Jew from Germania (yes, I'm fairly sure Judaism hadn't reached that area in this period, but just go with it) whose cities were wiped out by the Romans and were both sold into slavery.

Warnings: This fic will contain slash of the Charles/Erik kind as well as self-harm, dob-con/non-con, slavery and torture (four of those things in the first chapter, seriously, what is wrong with me). There, I have warned you. It's rated M for a reason. And this is Rome, so it's all pretty accurate. I'm not too sure how explicit I can write though, so there may be a number of convenient fade-to-blacks.

Disclaimer: I don't own the book, the comics, the movies, the characters or the actors (even though I wish I did). If I did, XMFC would have ended a bit more like EVERYTHING IS GROOVY MUTANT HUSBANDS AND NOTHING HURTS.

Okay, please enjoy and don't forget to review. No flaming though please.

Charles P.O.V

"Hmm, a little too deep this time", I murmured to myself, as I watched the blood drip from the cut on my wrist into the bowl I had placed beneath it.

This bowl was much nicer than the ones I was used to using. Decorated with a mosaic of nymphs I think it was. One of the upsides of being a member of the Marko household I suppose.

Looking down, I noticed the bleeding was beginning to slow, so I placed the bowl on the ground and lent my head back against the pillar, allowing the comforting haze my occasional bloodletting created to fall over me.

'A little too heavily' I thought, as I closed my eyes.

But then, wasn't that part of the appeal. The idea that maybe, just maybe, this time I would cut too deep and my life would drain away into the bowl and across the marble floor. Of course, that wasn't the only reason I did it. Eye for an eye. Blood for blood and all that.

"Charles." The shout interrupted my morbid musings. 'Back to work then' I thought, as I muttered a number of colourful curse words in a mixture of Latin, Greek and Celtic.

I tore a strip of fabric from the edge of my tunic and used it to bandage my bleeding wrist. I then pulled myself to my feet, swaying slightly on the way up. Yes, I had definitely lost a little more blood than initially intended.

Careful to avoid spilling any on my tunic, something that my sharp-eyed owner was sure to notice, I emptied the bowl of blood into the bushes and turned to head back into the house.

"Charles, get in here now."

Ahh yes, Cain Marko, my new owner. Purchased by his father, Kurt, to be his son's personal slave, although I was still worth less than the horse and gilded imported collar Cain had also received for his birthday.

"Yes domine?" I replied, as I entered the room.

"For the love of Fortuna, where have you been? I've been calling."

"Sorry domine"

"Did you cut yourself in the kitchen again Charles?" Cain asked, his beady eyes zeroing in on my bandaged wrist. "Honestly, you are so clumsy sometimes. Never mind, I need you to help me dress. I am attending the feast being held by Senator Kelly and his wife this evening."

I attempted to tune out his description of the numerous wealthy young patrician women who were not doubt attending tonight as well as the well-know Greek poet who was also rumoured to be coming, instead concerning myself with straightening my master's toga and retrieving his sandals. As a result I almost missed the question he directed at me.

"All those poets are dreadfully dull, but it pays to appear interested. Say Charles, your last owner was are Greek, was he not?" Cain asked with a nasty smile.

"Yes he was" I replied in perfect Greek, fighting back a smirk of my own as Cain's face transformed into a scowl. It irked him to no end that I, a lowly slave, was better educated than him, a wealthy Roman who could not even understand Greek.

"Right, I think I am done. Run off and do whatever it is you slaves do with your free time," he snapped as he strode out the door.

"Yes master", I said, once again in Greek. "You spiteful, pathetic bastard".

As I rounded the corner, a large had grabbed my elbow in a vice-like grip.

"Ahh, Charles, just who I was looking for" the oily voice of Kurt Marko whispered in my ear as he pulled me closer and leered. "Come" he said, steering me towards his chamber.

As we walked, I attempted to muster a smile and enough energy for what was to come. While Roman men didn't expect their slaves to be enthusiastic, they wanted them to do more than just lie there. The pleasant haze brought on earlier was beginning to look like both a blessing and a curse.

domine is Latin for master. The feminine form, mistress, is domina

So there we go, first chapter. This will most likely be a long fic and I'll try to update regularly.

Charles and co. are off to the Colosseum next chapter, so Erik will be making his appearance soon.