Cassia's Diary.
Pompeii has always been my home; yet being away from it for so long, it seems as if everything has changed in my absence.
I left for Rome over two months passed now, I left as a girl but have now returned as a woman; a strong woman, a woman of power, yet I prefer not to be known for my title and prefer to be liked rather for my personality and not my heritage.
I will admit, that it is hard; most of the residents of Pompeii, look upon me with adoration within their eyes and shout out to me as if I am their saviours; it fills my heart with joy knowing that I can bring my people so much hope, I want nothing more than to be able to help them, after all that is what I was taught as a young girl; sat down in the beautiful palace gardens, sitting upon a bench of the finest carved stone, beneath a water fountain that splashed tiny cysteine droplets upon my pale skin, basking in the golden heat of a typical Pompeii afternoon, being taught by my mother of the responsibilities that I was to face, once I came of age.
Now I was at that age, I was expected to be responsible, mature; hence why I took flight to Rome over a month passed now. All the time I was away, my heart yearned for the dusty sandy streets of home; the loud raucous of the residents bellowing at ridiculous hours of the morning as they set up their stalls for market day, the cries of the animals as they were led through the streets to be traded and sold, the smell of freshly baked bread from the local bakery, the scent of leather and the smells of the newest imported perfumes that were shipped from all over the world.
Rome didn't have any of that; it was a dead city. The only entertainment that its people had was at the coliseum, where the emperor of Rome would host the games for its people to watch.
These games were no such games that I was familiar with; they were rather monstrous, barbaric even, blood thirsty; the games would always begin with man to man combat; Gladiators they were called; young and old, skilled in the art of the sword or not, they were to fight for their lives and win their freedom; and the crowd would erupt into one giant roar as each man cut himself down out of desperation to live. It was horrific to watch, yet every man, woman and child would sit in that arena with a sadistic look of pleasure etched upon their faces as flesh was torn, blood was spilled and bodies completely mutilated at the command of their emperor.
All but one gladiator died that day; he was the strongest one of them the all; he had every skill that he needed to survive the fights and win his freedom; strong and tall with hair of dark curls, I remember him all too well as I sat in the viewing box with the emperor of Rome after he had slain every man in the arena with him. He had turned the golden sand crimson, staining it red with his victim's blood.
I cannot deny how my heart felt when looking at him after his victory, he was handsome for a slave and young; there was something about him that was mysterious and intriguing that pulled me to want to know more about him. Of course I never did; I had no time to think such things, I had a responsibility to do.
That was until on my journey back to my beloved Pompeii, I was fortunate to see the strange dark haired man again. He was being sold to a trader of Pompeii and was to accompany me on my return home with a few other slaves that had been bought during my stay in my Rome.
I tried to not let my mind wander over to him when I saw him but I found that I could not help myself; he was so handsome and I felt foolish for acting like a little love sick girl over a slave that could never be mine. He caught my eye a few times when I had been looking out of my wheel house window, not intentionally looking in his direction of course.
He didn't smile, he didn't do anything, instead he would look at me with dark eyes that stared into my soul and tried to read every last bit about me. I let him, because my heart felt pity for him; I could see that he was a good man and that he would not inflict harm upon those just because he loved the thrill of it; no this slave was not a brute; he was a man treated like a slave and he accepted his fate in bitter silence; never fought off the lashes from the whip when he began to lag from exhaustion, never cried out when the leather whip cracked at his bear skin and opened deep wounds upon his back that wouldn't heal for weeks.
He was a broody man; one that I could not stop myself from thinking of during the course of my journey home. My mother would never have approved if she saw my behaviour towards such a slave; she would scorn me for even entertaining such ridiculous thoughts; maybe she was right, maybe I was being foolish or maybe it was for the simple fact that I felt great pity towards a being that had known not the taste of freedom.
Either way; he had consumed my thoughts, day and night I found myself thinking of this stranger who I had a conversation with; I was being foolish, I knew I was; but I could not control my feelings and began to wonder if he felt the same to.
I wouldn't have to wait long to find out my answer.
AN: Hi guys, so this is a new fic that I decided to turn into a two – shot for the film Pompeii. The first piece is of Cassia's thoughts and then the next chapter will of course revolve around Mio's thoughts; a lot of things have changed in this fic as I honestly can't remember much at the moment as my mind went blank so I hope that it is indeed bearable and enjoyable.
As usual; please read and review as I love to hear what you guys think.