Gaia was a woman who could not be denied if she found herself wanting. It had not taken her long to sink her claws into an elderly Roman man of substantial means and she now found herself the mistress of a well-appointed villa. It was similar in size to the villa in Capua, but in far better condition. It was also located on a busy Roman street instead of isolated above, and her windows were filled with tall trees and fragrant flowers instead of the stench of blood and sand.

Lucretia partook in the luxury of a milk bath perhaps twice a year, but Gaia could not bear even a fortnight without one and often had one several times a week in the drier months. "I could not bear to age another day," the woman lamented, gazing at Octavia's supple skin with thinly veiled envy.

"You appear younger than when I saw you last," Octavia replied truthfully. Coin could keep one young forever it seemed, or at least afforded one more flattering wigs. She trailed her fingers along the top of the warm, white liquid, letting her eyes close as one of the slaves massaged her shoulders while another ran gentle fingers through her curls.

The compliment worked wonders on Gaia's mood and a smile soon blossomed upon her lips. "I would speak with false tongue to say the same of you. You appear a woman now." Cheeks feeling particularly warm, Octavia kept her eyes closed to avoid meeting the woman's discerning gaze. Looking upon oneself daily made changes appear subtle, but she had struggled to fit Gaia's dress over her hips which had once been a task of ease. "What troubles have sent a woman to my villa?"

"Loneliness," admitted Octavia, though she felt a child to do so.

"I could not fathom myself lonely with a ludus full of gladiators beneath my feet," said Gaia, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that forced Octavia to smile.

"Not that kind of loneliness," she corrected. "For a friend."

Gaia's expression shifted upon clarification. "Yes, that is a more difficult feeling to remedy."

Octavia hesitated a long moment before putting voice behind inquiry. "Do you feel free here?" she wondered. "Do you feel … happy?"

"To be a woman is to never be free," was Gaia's reply. "We will always suffer the whims of our fathers or husbands or sons. But upon occasion, someone in some far away city finds need of my husband and … for a time, I am free. Most days I am happy. More often with husband than with father." Gaia studied the young girl's expression carefully. "A wealthy husband is an easy thing for an unencumbered young girl with obvious charms to obtain. A senator, perhaps, with a villa to rival Jupiter's. He might even be handsome. Is it what you desire?"

"I could not survive another year in Capua," was all Octavia knew. How many sleepless nights had she considered taking a final plunge off the side of the ludus? How many more could she truly endure? She had felt lighter upon arriving in Rome, and all that held her down now was the knowledge that she must return to Capua upon a day.

Gaia was silent for a long moment, her hand slipping into the warm milk in search of her companion's hand. Octavia's heart raced unnaturally at the gesture, a fear overtaking her that whatever Gaia might say next would not be in her favor. "I have received correspondence from your mother beckoning your return to Capua," said Gaia. "Justifications for your time in Rome to extend have been depleted. There will come a time when letters are replaced with guards or even your father himself. And that time is coming quickly."

"I see," said Octavia, unable to muster much more.

Gaia's hand remained in hers as the older woman watched her carefully. "Why are you here, Octavia?" the woman repeated, still dissatisfied by her earlier response.

And yet, Octavia found herself unable to offer anything more. How could she answer without sounding a petulant child? She felt foolish enough with the thoughts living in her own head, to put them out into the world would be excruciating. What could she say, that her heart had been broken and it had yet to heal three years later? Gaia had torn through countless men in her life, Roman men of impressive standing, how could she possibly understand the damage one slave had done to her? "It's foolish," she finally said.

"Matters of the heart often are," said Gaia, leaning back as she realized Octavia was unlikely to confess her true intentions in Rome. "Use your time here wisely, Octavia," was the older woman's advice. "It will end sooner than you are ready for it."


He was an easy man to find. All men of note were. To loiter near the senate was to watch Rome's wealthiest and most powerful men at work, toiling through all hours of day and night. She had seen him twice now, her heart leaping to her throat each time. When had frightened rabbit taken hold of the girl who had once delighted in rebelling against him?

He had grown since last she'd seen him, looking less a boy and undeniably a man now. Two war campaigns alongside Pompey had hardened him, his jaw well defined and always clenched in anger. He was absent the playful smile he had always worn before and she was absent the courage to approach such a man.

"You've traveled a long way to do no more than watch," a voice murmured from behind her. His voice, she knew. It hadn't changed at all and still sent a nervous feeling to the pit of her stomach.

"You were not my intent in this city," replied Octavia, praying to whichever god might listen that she didn't sound the way she felt, that her desperate attempts at parroting the confidence of the women she knew had succeeded.

One look at him told her they hadn't. He could see right through her, as he'd done before all those years ago. "No," he agreed after careful assessment, his eyes never leaving hers though she willed him to look away so she could breathe again. "And yet you found me all the same." She turned to look away from him, but found herself unable to escape as the tips of his fingers found her jaw and pulled her back to him. "Why?"

"Memories of a different time," she answered, surprised by her own honesty. A time when she'd been happy.

Caesar's gaze scanned her features, searching for answers she would not give up willingly. She had lost her little slave, he realized. Dead, presumably, as that was the only way the man would've left her. "Ever the little fool, aren't you," he said, though his words didn't hold the bite he had expected them to. This had been the part of her that had attracted him, after all. The innocence. The naivety. The vulnerability. She had been a stupid, little girl living in a world that didn't exist. He'd enjoyed ripping her from it. But as she looked up at him now, a different urge entirely took him by surprise.

"Please," she said, and he understood her perfectly.

His lips were featherlight as they brushed against hers, her head cradled in his hands. The kiss was soft. Gentle. Delicate. Everything she was and everything he wasn't, though he could pretend for a time. Her hands found his and clung to them, fearful he would pull away before she was ready. It was only when he felt something wet against his palm that he moved back, just far enough to see the tears that stained her cheeks.

I can see now why you are so eager to bring me to your bed.

His thumb was surprisingly gentle as it brushed against the corner of her eye, wiping away a tear before it had the chance to fall. She pulled away from him then and he let her, watching as she walked away, pausing only once to look back at him before she disappeared from his sight altogether.

You wish to erase memory of the man who came before.


Author's Note: Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

I had a sudden inspiration hit me today and sat down to write this. While it's short, I enjoy the content of it and this segway in Rome is very important for Octavia as a character and for her relationship with Caesar in the future. I've started writing Capua already, and if my inspiration stays, I might have another chapter out this week.