A week had come and gone in and instant and had left Octavia begging for just a few more moments. With another day, she was certain, Crixus would be ready for the challenge. His improvement in the week given was beyond words. The man stood nearly unrecognizable in skill, but she still wanted more before she had to send him into the pits of hell they called an arena.

She glanced at her father curiously, wondering if he felt the same pain upon sending his own gladiators into the arena. It only took her a moment to decide that was unlikely. Batiatus grinned upon noticing her attention and clapped a heavy and on her back. "Strike the worry from your eyes!" he commanded. "The girl could ignite fire from a fucking corpse!" He had turned his attention to Lucretia, intent on bragging upon her successes with Crixus.

It was certainly true that Crixus always increased effort toward training after their interactions. Or at least, that was what she had heard from her father. She had made concentrated effort to avoid the man, and all of his kind. She wasn't certain how long she could go in a ludus without seeing a gladiator, but she would attempt an eternity. "She has produced a man from the beast who arrived at our ludus," Lucretia agreed, giving Octavia a proud smile.

Her mother's friend Gaia, did not seem as thrilled by her accomplishments, and opened mouth to voice displeasure, but silenced herself upon arrival of more honored guests. Those already in the pulvinus stood at the presence of Marcus Crassus and Julius Caesar, but Crassus waved a brief, impatient hand that ordered them to be seated.

Octavia couldn't help but think he looked terribly annoyed to even be there. She wondered if he was just of a generally unpleasant disposition or if he hated the games. She thought better against asking the man as he took the seat in front of her, and Caesar took a seat in front of Gaia. Crassus glanced to Caesar, asking silently why he had left a seat between them. "The girl has more invested than any of us, should she not have a seat with a view of the proceedings?" asked Caesar.

A summoning jerk of the hand was Crassus's response, and Octavia was quick to her feet, shooting her father an anxious look as she stepped to the front of the pulvinus and took her place in between Crassus and Caesar. "Gratitude," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the sands below them.

Caesar watched her through the first of the fights. A few disposable slaves with dreams of becoming something more, only to fall to blade or spear quickly, moistening the sand with blood, making it more worthy for other more skilled men.

She was bored through that, having grown up in the ludus, she must've seen blood everyday, seen it shed, seen men die, lose limbs, become disfigured more often than most women her age. It wasn't until her stone layer turned gladiator stepped upon the sand the she showed any signs of interest. "Ah, and who will he be taking on, Batiatus?" Caesar asked curiously.

"Auctus is his name," said her father, not hesitating in taking the opportunity to lean closer to the men of import. "Deadly with a spear."

Octavia's stomach plummeted at the realization of his opponent. Auctus was considered near the top of her father's gladiators, having spent years training and honing his skills in the ludus. How could Crixus possibly hope to compete?

Auctus made the first move and she felt herself jerk forward slightly as Crixus blocked the jab, knocking the spear out of his way only to swing around and attempt to bring the blade down on his opponent, but that was blocked by the small shield. This went on, a jab here, a block there, shouts and yells, tumbles and rolls. She watched on with bated breath, though she was unable to tear her gaze away.

She gasped slightly when blood finally spilled, a long gash across Crixus' chest that sprayed the sands. A shout that rang through her ears, but he did not slow. He swung his blade hard and deep, catching Auctus by the shoulder and earning his own pained scream.

He smiled, seeming to have new strength from the shout, he swung the blade again, blocking another shot, swinging hard, knocking the shield away, swinging back so hard he broke the spear in half, brought his blade up high, kicked Auctus in the chest, throwing him to the sands and brought his blade to the man's chest before pausing, looking up to the pulvinus and waiting.

Octavia forced a smile from her face as she glanced over to Crassus, knowing he would be the one to make the decision. Would he spare the man? No, she thought. The man was not known for a gentle hand. He would let the man die for his failure. But Crassus did not stand.

Instead, he turned his gaze on her. "The man stands your gladiator, does he not?" he asked. Octavia swallowed, sensing Marcus Crassus was not even remotely pleased with the way the battle had ended. "The decision is yours."

She had never been given the decision before. Her father had always passed it off on more loftier guests to the pulvinus, or had kept the honor for himself. She felt oddly unsure of herself as she stepped to the edge of the pulvinus and looked down, feeling Crixus's eyes upon her. Normally, Octavia would lean in favor of life, to let the men train and fight another day. But she feared her mercy would be viewed as weakness from the men who stood behind her. They would mistake her generosity as inability to take a life. She would not allow them this mistake.

She shifted her thumb downwards, and in an instant, Crixus shoved his sword with such force into Auctus's throat, blood spewed upward and splashed his knee. As fast as he had planted it, Crixus uprooted the blade, letting the tip of it find her as he lowered his eyes in deference. The crowd erupted with the display of blood and Octavia found her chair again. "Memory of your heel has long faded, Marcus," Caesar said from beside her, amusement evident in his tone. "The Gaul has found a new master."

Octavia felt her face grow hot as she kept her eyes toward the sand, watching as the dragged the lifeless corpse from the arena. "He but honors the girl," said Marcus. "Who forged gold from shit. The man will remain to you, where he serves far greater purpose."

"Gratitude, well received!" called Batiatus from behind them, gesturing for Melitta and Naevia to fill cups with wine in celebration.

Crassus held up a hand to stop him, before finding his feet. "We move toward more pressing matters," he stated. "Far from the stench of the arena."

Batiatus nodded humbly, knowing better than to stop a senator of Rome from doing whatever he pleased. Caesar, however, was far more insolent. Where Crassus moved to leave the pulvinus, Caesar remained firmly seated. "You would have me miss the primus?" he asked, when Crassus turned on him with agitation.

"You show favor for the champion of Capua?" Crassus inquired, trying not to appear too displeased at his friends lack of movement.

"I have intrigue," Caesar said. "Words have often broken about Gannicus, I would see that they are not false." Crassus looked to Caesar, his eyes willing him to change his mind. Caesar was already looking to the Gladiators that were not walking into the arena as the crowd roared for them to begin and Caesar beamed.

Crassus sat down, back straight, jaw set, waiting for the match to be over. Octavia watched as he did so and considered taking a similar position. She would not show any particular interest in this match, at least, she would do what she could to show indifference. Seeing Gannicus fight was something she had done on many occasions. He was their champion, he was her champion, a thought that made her heart quiver.

Gannicus raised his swords, that familiar smile on his face, playful and arrogant. She pursed her lips when his gaze fell on her for a moment before turning to his own opponent. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him, one of Solonius's men, she recognized. A beast of a man, at least twice the size of Gannicus with a war hammer clutched in his massive grip. She thought she heard a trail of curses flow from her father's lips from behind her, and lost any thought of appearing indifferent.

Though she was cross with the slave, she did not wish him death, "The Gods have blessed us with an excellent opportunity to witness Gannicus's skill," Caesar said, looking almost as a child with a new toy. Octavia barely had a moment to glance at him in acknowledgement before hearing the clash of metal on metal,her gaze setting firmly on the fight below.

Which seemed to go on forever, as more and more blood sprayed the ground from both men, cuts and gashes, though Gannicus stood as quickly as the larger man, who fell ever harder upon the ground with each counter blow Gannicus gave. And still the crowd roared, regardless of length, or time it took for the men to exhaust themselves, until the large man over swung, and lost footing with a slice of Gannicus's blade on his heel and across the man's belly, spilling what was once inside upon the ground.

One last slash came as the man fell to his knee, giving Gannicus a clear shot of his throat which he slashed across without a breath of hesitation.

The crowd chanted his name over and over again, louder each time, it seemed, and Octavia struggled to keep the smile from her lips as she looked upon the bloodied and bruised champion of Capua below, who was raising his blade to the pulvinus and directing it firmly at her.

It was a wonder, Caesar thought, that a girl of so few years could stand so composed after such an honor. The Gaul had been almost expected. She was the only reason he yet stood among the livings. It was proper tribute to honor her after his first victory in the arena. But Gannicus … Gannicus had stood the Champion of Capua for more years than would allow the girl to have anything to do with his current standing. Batiatus stood the man's true dominus, and yet the man himself favored the girl.

Batiatus paid no mind to the insult, and chose instead to celebrate the further swelling of his purse. "Do all gladiators hold you in such high favor?" Caesar inquired, leaning closely to the girl so that she would be the only one privy to the question.

"He honors his domina," said Octavia. "As all slaves should."

"I had thought your father the lanista," Caesar replied. "Does the man stand but humble puppet under your charge?"

Octavia shook her head curtly. "My father stands the best lanista in all of Rome."

"Ah, but there is something your father lacks, as well as Crassus," Caesar said, moving himself impossibly closer. Octavia shifted uncomfortably, willing Crassus himself to grow impatient with the games again, to demand a swift exit for the two of them. No such order came as Caesar's fingers trailed lightly down her arm. "Clenched fist is but pale shade of control in comparison to the gentle touch of a woman, is it not?"

"You speak with more authority on the matter than I could muster," she said, watching as his fingers found her own. He was an unpredictable man, she thought, and wasn't certain if his hands searched for gentle embrace or moved to crush the bones in her own. "I fear I am not given ample time with slaves to test such a theory."

Caesar's fingers froze as the words left her lips, and then he removed himself entirely. "A situation to be remedied," he said with a smile.

Octavia forced a smile as the man stood, followed by his friend. Her father caused them to pause, offering invitation to celebrate the victories of the day. She swallowed back any words of protest she might've offered. Her father would do anything to elevate their house, regardless of cost or daughter's concerns.


The morning and afternoon were spent preparing. She spent several hours being bathed, preened, tweezed, braided, perfumed, powdered, dressed and then undressed when her mother did not find the first gown suitable. The rest of the house prepared by cleaning and hanging silks, lighting candles and sconces along walls.

Slaves scurried about with food and wine, golden goblets and plates prepared and setup, while more important ones, more beautiful ones were cleaned, painted and prepared in their own respects.

The dress was lovely, she thought to herself, running her fingers over the soft fabric as she often found herself doing out of habit. Ever since she was but a girl, her fingers would find the silks and satins and wools her mother and father would wear or wrap her in. This color, though, was new to her and she smiled to herself and Melitta adjusted the belt around her waist, while she herself ran her fingers up the long dip of the neckline against her chest where a thin gold chain hung.

"You grow more and more beautiful by the day, Domina," she sighed, reaching for a comb and running it through her hair.

"How often have you broke those same words?"

"And yet each time, they are held true," Melitta said with a smile. "Come, your absence will not go unnoticed." Octavia nodded, following the slave out of her room, the scent of roses trailing behind her as the lighter blue at the bottom of her dress danced around her feet, fading up to the darker blue at her breasts.

She could hear the chatter from the main rooms, the splash of water from fountains she was familiar with was drowned by them. She hesitated only once when the gladiators lined the wall she walked past, her gaze falling on Gannicus. She couldn't remember the last time he had appeared cleaned, and could not deny it wasn't an altogether unpleasant site.

"Octavia!" her father's voice called, denying her even the idea of hesitating to speak to him.

She turned her attention to her father, who waved her over to a more controlled portion of the party. A smaller area draped in silks, meant to offer privacy to those her parents deemed most honored guests. Tonight, their numbers swelled. Caesar caught her eye first, with Crassus not far removed from the man. Gaia was present, along with her prospective husband,Varis, and his friend, Cossutius. There were a handful of other Romans whose names she couldn't recall, but she was certain were of great import. Only good Solonius seemed out of place among the crowd, but she was certain her father had reason for his invitation.

"I had begun to question if it were not past the girl's bedtime," Gaia greeted, a smile upon her lips that could make flowers wilt.

"It is," Octavia replied politely. Caesar made great showing of moving from Crassus's side to make a space for her to sit, which Octavia promptly ignored, in favor of squeezing between Gaia and her father. "But the presence of such cherished friends was enough to keep me from it."

"A sentiment well received," said Gaia, placing wet kiss upon Octavia's cheek before raising her cup of wine, the rest among them following suit.

Octavia felt as if she could breathe again once attention had shifted from her. Such a comfort was not one Caesar would afford her. "Is the little one not to partake in drink?" he wondered.

Her father gestured for Melitta to fill her cup but Octavia held up a hand to stop the woman. "I do not care for honey in my wine. It serves only to mask bitter taste." Something she had heard Gannicus say, upon a time. A sentiment she did not particularly share, but she did not want to be plied with honeyed wine and robbed of her senses.

"A beautiful coincidence," said Caesar. "Nor do I."

Octavia had little power to refuse the man when he offered his own goblet, and it took all within her not to wince when the bitter liquid burned down her throat. "Gratitude," she grumbled, shooting him a dirty look when his attention shifted for the briefest moment to newly arrived guests.

She followed his gaze to find Gannicus now among them, and Crixus at heel.

"The Celt in the flesh," said Caesar. "Words of his prowess in the arena were not inflated."

"He's been but a cock in my ass if not for my daughter," admitted Batiatus. Gannicus only seemed to train on the days that Octavia was present. His only motivation to leave the shade was if she happened to be watching. "She does seem to have her way with the slaves. She whispers words unknown and they fall to her as if under a spell."

"A gift," said Crassus. "To be sure."

"He is of a form," Gaia said. "I heard he had fell victim to many cuts. He looks near perfect condition."

"Let your hands explore what your eyes long to," Lucretia said and Octavia straightened slightly, meeting Gannicus's uneasy gaze for but a fraction of a moment. Gaia did not need persuading and stood, approaching the gladiator and letting her gaze wander around him. She glanced at Crixus as well.

"A Gaul you say," she said. "He looks as if a beast, wild and unkempt. How do you fall upon such luck?" She ran her hands across Crixus, his chest, his abs, the cloth about his waist, lingering as if she were curious of more than what was readily on display.

"One cannot help if the gods show favor to the House of Batiatus," Octavia said taking a sip of wine as Caesar yet again lent her his cup. She bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself from cringing. "One champion might suit us for now, but we shan't deprive ourselves should he fall."

"You think Crixus to stand his equal?" asked Crassus.

"I think he shows great potential of becoming the new champion of our great Ludus," she said with so much confidence Gannicus looked to her with narrowed gaze.

"You say such things to the champion who honored you in the arena?" Caesar asked. "Over his own Lanista? A crueler woman there must not have ever been. What has the man done but defend you on the sands?" Octavia glanced lazily over to Gannicus, meeting his gaze passively if not only to show him her indifference.

"And I am honored," she said firmly. "He should be granted many pleasures for the honors he has brought us, as he often is," she said.

"He performed so well today, perhaps we can think of something special for him. Tonight is a special occasion, is it not?" Caesar said.

"He is welcome to whatever wine, or slave he wishes," Batiatus said. "He need but speak the word!"

"No, not just any slave," Gaia said, standing before Gannicus and looking him over, wine clutched in her hand and smirk upon her lips. "On such an occasion, champion, is there something you long for?"

Gannicus glanced to Octavia and was received with warning gaze that forced his own to the floor beneath them. "I but wish to … honor the House of Batiatus," he muttered, glancing to Octavia again, as if checking to see that those were the words that should've fallen from his lips.

"The man speaks with false tongue," said Varis, though the entire room knew it. Words had never been spoken with less conviction.

"And yet eyes hold truth," Caesar observed, an odd look on his face as he watched Gannicus closely. He could count on one hand the number of moments the Celt's eyes had found anyone but the girl. He found a certain pleasure in his assumptions proving correct, as well as a certain irritation.

Batiatus had noticed the same looks exchanged between daughter and slave over the years, and had deemed them harmless. What young girl when so sheltered would not take an interest in the Champion of Capua? What gladiator would not fall prey to the only gentle touch ever shown to him? He had never thought such affections would lead him to his current situation. "Put voice to desire," urged Gaia, her hand once against trailing down his chest, "and see it quenched."

Octavia held her breath as those among her waited for answer to fall from tongue. Gannicus had long since learned to control his gaze, keeping it firmly fixed on the woman who stood in front of him, but he offered her no answer. "You have an errant slave on your hands, Batiatus," said Caesar, taking to his feet alongside Gaia. "A wound best healed before it begins to fester."

"Gannicus," her father warned, and Octavia's heart sank. Her father was her last line of defense. If he had no intention of quelling the rising storm, no one would. Octavia found her eyes wandering past Caesar, to where Crixus stood, his arms in chains, where Gannicus stood freely. She found herself wishing she had slipped the man a dagger, so he may plunge it into Caesar's back. "Seize fucking wit and find voice toward desires!"

And yet, Gannicus remained steadfast in his decision not to speak. He looked as if he hadn't heard Batiatus give command, and had no notice of the Roman man behind him growing more angry by the minute. Unaccustomed to being denied anything, by anyone, let alone by some fucking slave, Caesar turned look of wrath upon Batiatus instead. "Gannicus," she spoke quickly, before her father could fully rise, before the guards could be called, before Oenomaus and his whip were commanded to deal with the disobedient slave. "Given free choice, what in this world do you desire most?"

"You, Domina," came the simple reply.

It was an answer she had expected, but it still hit her with considerable force. Ignoring the feeling in her belly, she shifted her gaze to Caesar. "The wound has been tended," she stated. "Put mind at ease and reclaim seat."

"Ah, we are all but humble slaves at your command," was Caesar's reply. He flashed her a smile as he fell into his seat next to Crassus once again. For a brief, foolish moment, Octavia thought perhaps that it was over. That lasted only until Caesar looked to her father again. "I believe the man was promised a swift answer to desire."

Octavia opened her mouth, unable to find the words to argue with the Roman who put a hand on her back to encourage her to rise. Gaia appeared elated as she grabbed Gannicus's wrist and pulled him forward as well, to the middle of the small crowd of people that Octavia was quickly joining him in.

"Caesar, surely—" Batiatus tried.

"Where is your honor?" Caesar asked with a laugh. Lucretia was gripping Batiatus's wrist, her nails digging into it, but words failed her as well as they watched their daughter stand before a man twice her size. Even when she turned to them with pleading eyes, they did nothing as Caesar's words continued to move things along swiftly.

"Remove your cloth," Caesar commanded of the gladiator, who clenched his jaw and hesitated a moment too long. "Gaia, it seems wit has left him, why not lend him your hands," Gaia did not hesitate, eager to feast her own gaze on what the Celt had to offer. She backed off once it had dropped, completing the circle around the pair.

"Domina," Gannicus muttered to her, locking her gaze with his.

"She is yours to take, Gannicus, Champion of Capua, let it be done before the girl falls asleep," his voice was commanding, though his words seemed playful. He shifted in his seat in annoyance when the continued to hesitate. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order, a more willing slave to show him where to place his cock?"

"Fall to command, Gannicus," Octavia urged.


A/N: Ugh that chapter was a pain in the ass to edit. I forgot how horribly written it was. Run on sentences for daaaays. There is probably only enough content already written for one more chapter, which I will likely put out this week. After that, I'm afraid my posting times will take much longer as I'll have to actually write instead of just editing.

(PS because editing this made me want to kms, I didn't do the best job. It's probably not the best written work you will ever find on my page. Sorry :D)

Special thanks to:

HelloWorld: Fortunately for you, I've never had any intention of putting Octavia with Crixus! His fascination with her is purely because she saved him and has shown him the only gentle touch he's ever known. He'll be with Naevia when the time comes. I'm glad you enjoyed the story, here's the update you asked for! :)

Vikihungerrgame1: Yes, I could tell which review was yours! :P I'm glad you're supporting the ship SS Gannicavia? Octavius? Don't worry about them suffering - it wouldn't be a Spartacus fanfic without a bit of misery. Thanks for the review, I really appreciate it! :)