The Mojave sun beat down on a stifling afternoon. Caesar's commanders were gathered around the war table next to his tent, waiting for their leader to join them. There wasn't so much as a breeze among the tented citadel of the Fort and the desert air was heavy with dust, tempers fraying in the heat.

Preparations for the upcoming attack on Hoover Dam were well underway, but there were still decisions to be made and information they didn't have. As always, Vulpes and Lanius were butting heads. The Legate thought they should proceed anyway, trusting in the ferociousness of Legion soldiers, while the Frumentarius insisted that the missing intelligence could give them a key advantage. They needed Caesar's final say to break the deadlock.

Unfortunately, Caesar himself was otherwise occupied. In the still air, the sounds of slapping flesh and grunts coming from his tent were unmistakable. Lanius and Lucius shared a filthy, knowing look, smirking openly. They had both made their disdain for the woman in their midst well known. By all means have a favourite, they reasoned, but put her back with the rest of the whores when you're done. No need to give them ideas above their station.

Vulpes was sitting in the corner, waiting patiently with a book in hand, although an astute observer might have noticed that he hadn't turned a page for some time. Unable to focus on anything else, he listened intently to the excruciating details of Six's humiliation. She wasn't even trying to fake her enjoyment, mostly silent apart from a few muffled noises of pain. Caesar didn't seem to care, however; they heard him come with a groan a few minutes later.

Vulpes had to close his eyes, fighting to maintain his composure. His own opinions about women weren't much better than those of the other legionaries, but Six wasn't just any woman. She was worthy of more respect than these cretins gave her and deserved better than being used like a common slave girl.

He closed the book in his hand with a thump, standing up. If he ever had his way with her, Vulpes swore to himself, he would make her writhe with ecstasy. It was an enticing image: Six, usually so quick with her retorts, rendered speechless with pleasure by his hand, unable to form any word but his name.

He returned the book to its place on the bookshelf, clearing his throat and mentally cataloguing the thought to revisit when he was alone with himself later. Joining the other commanders, Vulpes stood to attention around the war table, anticipating Caesar's imminent arrival.

Lanius and Lucius began to talk tactics again, their voices making it difficult for Vulpes to eavesdrop on the conversation that was now taking place in Caesar's tent. He couldn't tell what Six was saying, but whatever it was must have displeased Caesar, and the sound of a single hard slap rang out across the courtyard. Vulpes fought to keep his ire in check, clenching his jaw until it was painful and digging his nails into palms. The other Legion commanders hadn't even noticed, or if they did they didn't care.

When Caesar did emerge from his tent, there was a familiar crease in his brow that told Vulpes everything he needed to know. Recognising the expression, Vulpes felt his anger twist into a more complex tapestry of dread and apprehension. Six wasn't the only victim of Caesar's increasingly frequent migraines. They had managed to conceal the affliction from the rank and file legionaries so far, but it was an unacknowledged truth among his inner circle: the episodes were getting worse, impairing both Caesar's judgement and his character. There were still more good days than bad ones, but it was a close thing.

'Ave, true to Caesar.'

Caesar waved away the chorus of greetings, leaning heavily over the head of the table and looking grim. Lanius began to talk, but his voice faded into the background as Vulpes watched Six step out of Caesar's tent. She hurried across the courtyard with a hand covering her cheek, looking up and catching his eye for the barest moment. It wasn't long enough for anything to pass between them, but it made Vulpes' gut wrench all the same. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't, not from Caesar.

The meeting didn't last long: Caesar barely had the patience to hear Lanius out before barking orders, one of which was for Vulpes to head to the Strip and gather the intelligence they were missing. After Caesar had returned to his tent, clutching his head and grumbling, Vulpes found his feet taking him to the medical tent in search of Six. Hearing the sounds of conversation, he came to a halt just outside, his infiltrator's instincts as keen as ever.

'He's getting worse.' Six's voice. She was talking with the slave, Siri.

'I know, dear. I'm the one who has to treat your bruises.'

There was a pause as he heard Six's breath hiss loudly through her teeth.

'It's only a matter of time before he really hurts you, you know.'

'I have to keep trying, Siri, while there's still a chance. Besides, I've survived worse.'

Six laughed, sudden and bright, and the sound made Vulpes' stomach flip. He ignored it.

'You have, but it's not just your body I'm worried about, dear.'

A silence, something passing between them that he couldn't see.

'I'll be okay.'

They both jumped as he opened the tent flap to enter, sharing a look of surprise. The slave woman averted her eyes in a show of deference, but Six's gaze followed him. There was a wide welt across one side of her face. It was highlighted with several thin cuts, presumably from Caesar's rings.

'Are you done here?' He addressed Siri, but never took his eyes off the angry red mark on Six's cheek.

'Yes, sir.'

'Then leave.'

Siri got up without another word. Six stopped watching him to smile at the slave woman, thanking her and briefly holding her hand as she passed.

Vulpes took Siri's seat directly in front of Six, close enough for their knees to touch.

'You shouldn't be so familiar with the slaves,' he told her. 'It's unbecoming of someone in your position.'

'My position? And what's that, bent over the almighty Caesar's desk?' She laughed again, bitter this time. 'I'm as much a slave as they are — I just have to pretend to like it.'

She stared at him, defiant. Her lack of respect should have earned her another slap, but he couldn't take his eyes off the evidence of the last one. It stirred feelings that he daren't acknowledge, dangerous as they were, and he reached out to touch her face without thinking.

Six caught his wrist, her combat reflexes still sharp. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking permission, and after a moment's consideration she let go, allowing him to put his fingers on her chin. He turned her face to inspect the damage. It would heal without scarring, but it must have been a vicious blow.

Vulpes allowed his hand to linger, anger and frustrated possessiveness coiling in his stomach. Their last interaction by the cliffs hung heavy and unspoken between them, his own words echoing in his head: do you think I don't see what he's doing to you?

'What did you say to him?' he eventually asked, dropping his arm and leaning back.

'Does it matter? You know how he gets.' She pressed a hand to her injured cheek. 'I could suck the cock of Mars dry and get a beating for it when he's having one of his migraines.'

Vulpes pulled a face at her indelicacy. 'Why do you do that?'

'What?'

'Bait me. You know perfectly well that what you just said is treason.'

Six smiled at him, her old audacity shining through, and he found himself smirking back. She was in a good mood today, despite Caesar's abuse. I guess she's used to it.

'Well, Vulpes—' she drew out his name, relishing the illicit familiarity, '—someone in my position enjoys certain leniencies. I must make the most of them.'

She leant forward, never taking her eyes off his as she put a hand on his knee, sliding it a chaste few inches up his thigh under his tunic. Caesar's mark hung around her neck, glinting in the dim light of the tent.

'Tell me again what constitutes treason,' she asked him, her eyes flashing with mischief. 'Coveting that which belongs to Caesar? Touching Caesar's property?' She placed a hand on her own chest, over the mark.

Vulpes narrowed his eyes at her. As much as he would enjoy her hand travelling further, he wasn't going to rise to such an obvious ploy — but she knew that, drawing back with another bright laugh after a few seconds. The speed with which her demeanour could change still caught him off guard sometimes, but he supposed that was what made her so persuasive. He was the same when he was manipulating degenerates on the Strip.

'Besides,' she went on, her eyes alight with amusement above her reddened skin, 'you've never trusted me. You're still trying to figure out what my angle is.'

By Mars, she was attractive. He'd never met a woman so willing — and able — to play him at his own game. Vulpes tried to control his expression, but he didn't doubt that she saw straight through it. He cursed to himself. He'd given too much away, and now she was playing with him.

'You're right,' he said, 'I don't trust you. Why haven't you murdered him in his sleep?'

She tapped the scar on her forehead. 'My self-preservation instinct is legendary, haven't you heard?'

A shadow crossed her face, perhaps remembering their conversation at the edge of the Colorado River, its siren call.

'You'd just replace one despot with another anyway,' she said. 'At least this one has a greater vision than crucifying half the Mojave.'

She gave him a pointed look, raising one eyebrow, and he found a smirk on his lips that he hadn't given permission to be there.

'You do me a disservice.'

Her only response was a provocative smile. She was dangerous, despite her precarious position with Caesar; he had to remember that. There was substance to her exaggerated insolence, some more profound feeling, but she was right: he didn't know what her game was. Yet. She'd had months to make her move, whatever it was, and publicly siding with the Legion had cost her whatever alliances — and friends — she might have had. She hadn't done it for nothing.

The air in the tent began to thicken with tension as she continued to smile at him. He caught her eyes flickering to his mouth, dissolving the last of his doubts: the attraction was very much mutual, and very dangerous. When their eyes met again, Six bit her lip and Vulpes began to feel heat low in his belly. He had to cross his arms, not trusting his hands to stay away from her. They were alone, but not alone enough.

She looked away from him with a visible effort of will, breaking their intense stare and unwittingly turning the injured side of her face towards him.

'Why are you here, Vulpes?'

To make sure you're okay.

'To talk business.'