Prologue II - HER
Second prologue is behind the cut. Enjoy!
Prologue II – Her
She held a whimpering man, boy really, in her lap, his hands clutching at his intestines while she kept her eyes on her Bitch Mistress, waiting to see just how much damage she would be put through, and would have to dish out, because of the ones she loved.
This wasn’t how her day was supposed to go. She’d been given her freedom that morning for saving the lives of her masters when she could’ve just left; she should’ve been on the road with her Barbarian and their children, walking anywhere but here on their way to new lives.
Instead she was in the ring because Hadriana, her mistress and the whore intent on having the barbarian mind, body, and soul had requested that they fight in the games before being given their freedom, a request her husband granted because as his wife had pointed out they were his best fighters and he had potential investors to impress.
She knew that Hadriana hoped to hurt her in the arena, and she might even have ignored it if Hadriana hadn’t made a sly comment about wins allowing her to keep her children, something her husband had implied but never promised and he hadn’t refuted the claim when the bitch had made it. So once again, she was fighting at whims for a woman she was positive was insane.
But even knowing that Hadriana was a mad, fickle bitch still didn’t prepare her for the first ‘gladiator’ she went up against.
The minute she entered she knew it would end in a slaughter. Not because she had entered the arena bare chested and bare headed with not even a gladius to fight with, but because her opponent was little more than a child, and so new to his second nature that she could see the faint markings that showed his other half to be a tiger showing through his skin as he tried to keep the beast under the control.
When he attacked he did so out of fear and pain, launching himself at her the way a tiger would go at a gazelle. On a human or an amateur it might have worked, but she was neither and the battle ended before it began, his eyes wide with surprise even as he clutched at his stomach in a futile attempt to keep his intestines from hitting the dirt floor.
She knocked his feet from under him in a graceful sweep that still allowed her to be by his head when he dropped, catching his head and cradling into her lap as tears streamed down his cheeks, the only clean patch on a dirty face as her beast screamed at her.
He was a child and within her race she was a protector and guardian regardless of the species. He reached a bloody hand up and touched her cheek, whimpering even as he pleaded with her in a tongue she didn’t understand, her cat clawing at her to change and bring him somewhere to heal.
She kept her face impassive as she looked up into the crowd to where her bitch mistress sat, her green eyed baby in the Bitch’s lap while her beautiful golden-eyed twins stood to the right of the Bitch.
She didn’t look at them, not then, just as she ignored the screaming masses and the urge she had to smooth the dirty and matted strands of hair out of the tiger cubs face. It wouldn’t do to show him any preferential treatment although she couldn’t stop the low, vibrating rumble her cat was giving off, an instinctive reaction to a cub in distress, part reassurance, part warning to any threat.
It seemed to work, calming the boy down and she knew that if he was as strong as he looked he could survive this, their kind faster healers than humans.
A drop of sweat made its way down her temple to drop into her eye. It stung but still she didn’t take her gaze from Hadriana, the woman who held the fate of her children, of this boy, in her hands. If she didn’t signal soon not even Achilla or his natural abilities would save him.
After another five seconds she wished she hadn’t been so quick to want an answer when Hadriana’s thumb flipped downwards.
She licked her chapped lips for a half a second, staring at that thumb only to snap out of it as her pretty blond son grabbed the thumb and pulled it to his mouth to gnaw on it, reminding her of what was at stake.
Ignoring the yowls of her feline, she prayed to her goddess to deliver his soul safely to his people, and then snapped his neck quickly.
Outwardly she didn’t blink, she didn’t mourn but on the inside her cat yowled and tried to scratch its way to the surface. She didn’t wince as her cat tore a strip into her mind, though she knew it would be a matter of seconds before her nose started to bleed to showcase the damage done.
Love hurt. No matter what type of love it was, it hurt; the love of a mother for her child, or a lover for her beloved, it always, always hurt someone. And in this time it was killing her slowly while she killed those around her.
Gently, she lay his head into the dirt and moved smoothly to her feet, stopping only long enough to allow her feline to hide the evidence of his, the faint stripes that had started to rise as he’d struggled to stop the pain by switching form fading before any of the humans came to drag him out of the arena.
She walked back to her cage easily and waited for the next battle, wiping her bloody nose on the back of her arm. She didn’t have to wait long.
“The Amazon strikes again!”
The crowd screamed, stomping their feet as she raised an arm in victory, her hand soaked in blood as she’d only been allowed her throwing knife for this bout, a fact that bitch Hadriana had thought would handicap her but was actually a strength as her claws were easier for her to use anyway.
The true handicap was the fact that the bitch was pitting her against male, untried felines, the eldest so far having barely seen eighteen summers. They were all strong males, but it was clear they had never had to fight, not really. Under any other circumstances Hadriana would’ve allowed them to heal, to live and be trained to bolster her name throughout the empire.
But these weren’t ordinary games and the bitch wasn’t doing it just for amusement. Hadriana wanted her to hurt while claiming to grant the Barbarian the boon he had begged for and letting her husband believe she wasn’t actively attacking her. So now The Amazon was back in the ring and she was fighting children just a few years older than the twins.
They were watching, Caecilius and Cecilia. Hadriana had commanded them to sit with her as their mother slaughtered their own people based on the words of a woman not worth the spit in her mouth.
She knew Hadriana hoped to turn them against her, she even knew why; the barbarian had claimed them in front of everyone and if she couldn’t stop him from loving them, then she wanted them to be hers, mind, body and soul as well.
It wouldn’t work of course, she had informed her children of Hadriana’s ‘generous’ offer to her and they were worth every life in this arena, including hers.
If she won every match and provided the outcome Hadriana wanted, she would ‘send the Amazon and her cubs back into the wild with any winnings they’d earned and the clothes on their backs’, conveniently forgetting that her husband had already promised that. So far, she’d won every single fight even though she was bleeding, the deepest in her stomach from a fifteen year old who had looked so much like Caecilius she had hesitated and he’d slashed her across her stomach.
She’d ended up tearing his throat out. She wouldn’t cry about it, not when she was so close to winning the freedom of her family. She walked back to the room where she waited for her name to be called, a little dungeon like area where the fighters could see into the arena though she was separated from the others.
The only upside was that she got to watch her barbarian fight, and he was beautiful. He moved with the ease of a hunter and took out his opponent easily. She didn’t even have to see his face to know it was him.
The way he moved, the way he fought, even the way he stood as he waited for the final verdict, were etched into her mind and she knew that even without her feline half she’d be able to recognize him.
It was during a fight between him and another Visigoth just when it was reaching the point where she thought she might finally get to see why people feared his ‘boar’ rage that she was summoned from her cage by Cecilia who twisted the front of the toga she was wearing anxiously as she led her mother to another room, chatting incessantly about the barbarian’s wins although her eyes were focused on the dried blood coating her mother as well as the wounds that had reopened multiple time.
Cecilia left the room reluctantly, glancing back repeated but orders were orders and she had to go. There were bandages and water in her newest cell, although there was no window.
She hissed softly as she tried to clean herself up, taking time to remove as much dirt and grime from the wounds as she could without tearing anything open with her contortions before wrapping them up.
The door opened and she glanced up, her unease strengthening when she saw two of the house slaves walking in with armour and weapons before they came to her and started to help her bandage her wounds. She was confused but didn’t say anything about it, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what Hadriana was up too.
She was given a thin shift and she pulled it on, wounds pulling and muscles aching as she did so, her eyes going to the helmet that was moulded to look like a lion’s head, the detail in it breathtaking and all the more worrisome because this act of goodwill was out of the ordinary but she didn’t say a word.
She almost bit her tongue right off when she was handed a breast plate to put on over the thing shift she’d been given, the other slaves putting on the ankle guards for her while she fixed the ones that went around her wrist and tested the weight of the short sword in her hand.
It was sturdy and well crafted. Her unease grew but she just tucked the helmet under her arm and followed the other slaves to the gate just outside of the arena.
It wasn’t until she was at the gate waiting to enter the sands that she understood what the bitch planned to do. Her opponent was already in the circle of lights and sand, also decked out in armour, his helmet shaped to look like that of a bear.
As he walked around, bouncing on his heels and testing the ease with which he could move with his shield, all acts more for the people watching than because he actually felt uncertain with his tools, she could feel her heart pick up and her cat purr in enjoyment. It was always nice to watch their man in his element, but the human side of her knew that it was wrong.
Even though he was wearing a full helmet and body armour, she knew that his hair would be a dirty blond, that he had a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled and that he’d have a bite mark on his right shoulder.
She was so lost in her thoughts, she missed when the master started to speak, though she caught the tail end.
“… both of these warriors will be given their freedom today, as well as freedom for their families regardless of whether they win or lose.”
She grinned, triumph soaring through her, once declared in front of the crowd he couldn’t take it back or he’d lose favour with the citizens, and rich as he was, if the citizens turned on him, not only could he lose it all, but he would be viewed as a man without any honour.
“I give you… the Lioness!”
She pulled on her helmet in the shadow behind the gate, and when the door opened she stalked forward, her heart pounding even as she tried to make sense of the name change but dismissed it. She may have been the Amazon as a slave, but she found it fitting for her to be referred too by her true nature on the day that she won her freedom.
Her barbarian tilted his head to the side when she had been announced, clearly confused as he was acquainted with all of the gladiators and gladiatrixes that had been part of their school. Her feline huffed in her mind, her unease put to the back ground over the amount of fun that could be had with this game.
And the fun she had, moving in a way she rarely got to when she was fighting for her life, the two of them moving together in a way that was almost a dance, swords slamming against each other even as she tried not to get cut seeing as how she wasn’t given a shield.
They were at it for a while, moving as if they hadn’t just spent the whole day fighting, neither trying to kill the other but both determined to win. The audience loved it. If you were going to give a performance, even if it didn’t end in death, it had to be full of drama and sparks and together they burned hot enough to burn the place down.
A horn was blown and they separated, both breathing heavy by this point and she pulled her helmet off to grin at him quickly before turning to look up at the dais, positive that the fight would be declared a match and their freedom given to them in the next moment.
She stiffened as with a glance she took in that the master was gone and Hadriana was looking at the two of them with nothing but hatred in her eyes. The moment dragged on and the crowd began to get restless as Hadriana stood, raising her arms in the air to silence the crowd.
“My husband promised them their freedom, and I will honour his words. One will find freedom outside of this ring with their children, the other will find freedom in death. I have spoken, and so it shall be.”
For a split second all the Lioness saw was her short blade flying through the air and slamming into Hadriana’s neck. She could do it, hell, she could probably even get up there before the guards had realised what happened and kill at least five of the nobles that were up there.
Her skin rippled as her cat sought to change and she almost did it, except Cecilia let out a short yowl and she saw two guards pulling her baby from his sister’s arms and another holding a knife to Caecilius’ throat. She changed her grip on her knife, settling it back to a position more suitable for thrusting then throwing because she knew that fast as she was, even with her Barbarian beside her, she wouldn’t be fast enough to protect her children as well.
Hadriana grinned at her, taking the baby from the guard and urging the guards back a few steps while forcing the twins to take seats closer to the front.
“You can begin.”
She slipped her helmet on her head, her fingers curled into claws as her nails extended themselves against her will, her feline fighting to be dominant so she could kill the threat and keep her mate but she forced it back.
No matter how her feline hated it, her children came first and she could see by the look in her barbarian’s eyes that he understood that.
This time when they fought it was vicious with her on the attack, using both claw and sword to attack and yet holding back at the same time, a part of her hoping that their lord would come and overturn his wife’s words.
There was nothing and as the battle dragged on, the Barbarian began to get sloppy. Nothing too major, but none of his hits landed on her, and even when she pulled her sword back he managed to get cut.
She wanted to scream at him to fight her, to let her win, or lose, fairly. Her children were not dumb and they knew him as their father, if she was to die, they would still go with him. He seemed to note her hesitation and picked up his attack, his blows still landing more or less useless but putting more strain on her and causing her older wounds to reopen.
The sand under their feet became sticky and matted with blood, and then suddenly it was over as he stumbled and she got the upper hand, moving stiffly to knocking him off his feet. It had been a silly mistake that had dropped him, one that could’ve been attributed to exhaustion and blood loss except she didn’t smell enough blood on him to justify that.
If anything, she should’ve been the one on the ground, her body aching as the cuts and gashes from her previous battles had all reopened.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst as she pressed the tip of her blade to his throat, her foot pressed on his chest her feline scratching and tearing furrows into her mind over the unfairness, blood dripping from her eyes and mingling with tears at what she would do next.
If she killed him she would have her freedom, because Hadriana would have to let her and her children go, and while she would most likely send assassins after them, once in the wild she and her children would be much harder to find and she’d be free to take care of any threats to them as she wished.
They would belong to themselves. Except she wouldn’t. Because her heart and soul belonged to him, and what was freedom if he wasn’t there to share it?
She looked up at the stands again, already knowing that while he might own her heart and soul, her children were her heart and soul and roared, the sound full of anguish and rage and silencing the amphitheatre even as her stupid, stupid barbarian murmured words of encouragement and love beneath her feet.
Hadriana stared devastated and petrified, tears running down the whore’s face and she roared again, this time the sound being picked up by the other lions below the amphitheatres and by the ones in the gladiator pits. How dare that whore mourn a man she killed out of her spitefulness and jealousy?
Her roar this time promised retribution, for she would come back for her bitch mistress, she would tear her to shreds and bathe in her blood. But now, she would get her freedom.
She tore her helmet off and bent quickly to remove his, her hand trembling as she did so but she refused to leave him trapped in that. If she had the time she would remove his breast plate as well, but she didn’t so instead she pressed a kiss to his lips, her blood and tears landing on his face before she straightened and gave out one final roar, this time a plea to the gods that was mistaken for a battle cry.
She hauled her arm back to deliver the killing blow, raising the sword too high a part of her knowing she should use claws or teeth but not strong enough to take that much responsibility. The silence in the amphitheatre was practically deafening, and then she heard an unmistakable twang and a sharp stab of pain erupted at point on her collarbone, one of the few areas not protected by the breastplate.
She looked at her Barbarian who as staring up at her with shock and horror which was quickly turning into rage. She couldn’t move her neck, or her shoulder and then she heard another twang even as her daughter started to scream, but this time the arrow landed in the soft hollow of her throat, a shot that should’ve been impossible for any ordinary man.
And this time it was her barbarian who roared as she stumbled backwards, her knees giving out and blood filled her throat. She wanted to tell him to get the children, that seeing her die like this could force the twins’ first change, but she couldn’t speak but she tried, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t hear anymore, at least not the sounds of what was going on around her and she could barely see, her normally extra sharp eye sight dimming as black specks began to form.
She died with his name on her lips.
Prologue II – Her
She held a whimpering man, boy really, in her lap, his hands clutching at his intestines while she kept her eyes on her Bitch Mistress, waiting to see just how much damage she would be put through, and would have to dish out, because of the ones she loved.
This wasn’t how her day was supposed to go. She’d been given her freedom that morning for saving the lives of her masters when she could’ve just left; she should’ve been on the road with her Barbarian and their children, walking anywhere but here on their way to new lives.
Instead she was in the ring because Hadriana, her mistress and the whore intent on having the barbarian mind, body, and soul had requested that they fight in the games before being given their freedom, a request her husband granted because as his wife had pointed out they were his best fighters and he had potential investors to impress.
She knew that Hadriana hoped to hurt her in the arena, and she might even have ignored it if Hadriana hadn’t made a sly comment about wins allowing her to keep her children, something her husband had implied but never promised and he hadn’t refuted the claim when the bitch had made it. So once again, she was fighting at whims for a woman she was positive was insane.
But even knowing that Hadriana was a mad, fickle bitch still didn’t prepare her for the first ‘gladiator’ she went up against.
The minute she entered she knew it would end in a slaughter. Not because she had entered the arena bare chested and bare headed with not even a gladius to fight with, but because her opponent was little more than a child, and so new to his second nature that she could see the faint markings that showed his other half to be a tiger showing through his skin as he tried to keep the beast under the control.
When he attacked he did so out of fear and pain, launching himself at her the way a tiger would go at a gazelle. On a human or an amateur it might have worked, but she was neither and the battle ended before it began, his eyes wide with surprise even as he clutched at his stomach in a futile attempt to keep his intestines from hitting the dirt floor.
She knocked his feet from under him in a graceful sweep that still allowed her to be by his head when he dropped, catching his head and cradling into her lap as tears streamed down his cheeks, the only clean patch on a dirty face as her beast screamed at her.
He was a child and within her race she was a protector and guardian regardless of the species. He reached a bloody hand up and touched her cheek, whimpering even as he pleaded with her in a tongue she didn’t understand, her cat clawing at her to change and bring him somewhere to heal.
She kept her face impassive as she looked up into the crowd to where her bitch mistress sat, her green eyed baby in the Bitch’s lap while her beautiful golden-eyed twins stood to the right of the Bitch.
She didn’t look at them, not then, just as she ignored the screaming masses and the urge she had to smooth the dirty and matted strands of hair out of the tiger cubs face. It wouldn’t do to show him any preferential treatment although she couldn’t stop the low, vibrating rumble her cat was giving off, an instinctive reaction to a cub in distress, part reassurance, part warning to any threat.
It seemed to work, calming the boy down and she knew that if he was as strong as he looked he could survive this, their kind faster healers than humans.
A drop of sweat made its way down her temple to drop into her eye. It stung but still she didn’t take her gaze from Hadriana, the woman who held the fate of her children, of this boy, in her hands. If she didn’t signal soon not even Achilla or his natural abilities would save him.
After another five seconds she wished she hadn’t been so quick to want an answer when Hadriana’s thumb flipped downwards.
She licked her chapped lips for a half a second, staring at that thumb only to snap out of it as her pretty blond son grabbed the thumb and pulled it to his mouth to gnaw on it, reminding her of what was at stake.
Ignoring the yowls of her feline, she prayed to her goddess to deliver his soul safely to his people, and then snapped his neck quickly.
Outwardly she didn’t blink, she didn’t mourn but on the inside her cat yowled and tried to scratch its way to the surface. She didn’t wince as her cat tore a strip into her mind, though she knew it would be a matter of seconds before her nose started to bleed to showcase the damage done.
Love hurt. No matter what type of love it was, it hurt; the love of a mother for her child, or a lover for her beloved, it always, always hurt someone. And in this time it was killing her slowly while she killed those around her.
Gently, she lay his head into the dirt and moved smoothly to her feet, stopping only long enough to allow her feline to hide the evidence of his, the faint stripes that had started to rise as he’d struggled to stop the pain by switching form fading before any of the humans came to drag him out of the arena.
She walked back to her cage easily and waited for the next battle, wiping her bloody nose on the back of her arm. She didn’t have to wait long.
“The Amazon strikes again!”
The crowd screamed, stomping their feet as she raised an arm in victory, her hand soaked in blood as she’d only been allowed her throwing knife for this bout, a fact that bitch Hadriana had thought would handicap her but was actually a strength as her claws were easier for her to use anyway.
The true handicap was the fact that the bitch was pitting her against male, untried felines, the eldest so far having barely seen eighteen summers. They were all strong males, but it was clear they had never had to fight, not really. Under any other circumstances Hadriana would’ve allowed them to heal, to live and be trained to bolster her name throughout the empire.
But these weren’t ordinary games and the bitch wasn’t doing it just for amusement. Hadriana wanted her to hurt while claiming to grant the Barbarian the boon he had begged for and letting her husband believe she wasn’t actively attacking her. So now The Amazon was back in the ring and she was fighting children just a few years older than the twins.
They were watching, Caecilius and Cecilia. Hadriana had commanded them to sit with her as their mother slaughtered their own people based on the words of a woman not worth the spit in her mouth.
She knew Hadriana hoped to turn them against her, she even knew why; the barbarian had claimed them in front of everyone and if she couldn’t stop him from loving them, then she wanted them to be hers, mind, body and soul as well.
It wouldn’t work of course, she had informed her children of Hadriana’s ‘generous’ offer to her and they were worth every life in this arena, including hers.
If she won every match and provided the outcome Hadriana wanted, she would ‘send the Amazon and her cubs back into the wild with any winnings they’d earned and the clothes on their backs’, conveniently forgetting that her husband had already promised that. So far, she’d won every single fight even though she was bleeding, the deepest in her stomach from a fifteen year old who had looked so much like Caecilius she had hesitated and he’d slashed her across her stomach.
She’d ended up tearing his throat out. She wouldn’t cry about it, not when she was so close to winning the freedom of her family. She walked back to the room where she waited for her name to be called, a little dungeon like area where the fighters could see into the arena though she was separated from the others.
The only upside was that she got to watch her barbarian fight, and he was beautiful. He moved with the ease of a hunter and took out his opponent easily. She didn’t even have to see his face to know it was him.
The way he moved, the way he fought, even the way he stood as he waited for the final verdict, were etched into her mind and she knew that even without her feline half she’d be able to recognize him.
It was during a fight between him and another Visigoth just when it was reaching the point where she thought she might finally get to see why people feared his ‘boar’ rage that she was summoned from her cage by Cecilia who twisted the front of the toga she was wearing anxiously as she led her mother to another room, chatting incessantly about the barbarian’s wins although her eyes were focused on the dried blood coating her mother as well as the wounds that had reopened multiple time.
Cecilia left the room reluctantly, glancing back repeated but orders were orders and she had to go. There were bandages and water in her newest cell, although there was no window.
She hissed softly as she tried to clean herself up, taking time to remove as much dirt and grime from the wounds as she could without tearing anything open with her contortions before wrapping them up.
The door opened and she glanced up, her unease strengthening when she saw two of the house slaves walking in with armour and weapons before they came to her and started to help her bandage her wounds. She was confused but didn’t say anything about it, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what Hadriana was up too.
She was given a thin shift and she pulled it on, wounds pulling and muscles aching as she did so, her eyes going to the helmet that was moulded to look like a lion’s head, the detail in it breathtaking and all the more worrisome because this act of goodwill was out of the ordinary but she didn’t say a word.
She almost bit her tongue right off when she was handed a breast plate to put on over the thing shift she’d been given, the other slaves putting on the ankle guards for her while she fixed the ones that went around her wrist and tested the weight of the short sword in her hand.
It was sturdy and well crafted. Her unease grew but she just tucked the helmet under her arm and followed the other slaves to the gate just outside of the arena.
It wasn’t until she was at the gate waiting to enter the sands that she understood what the bitch planned to do. Her opponent was already in the circle of lights and sand, also decked out in armour, his helmet shaped to look like that of a bear.
As he walked around, bouncing on his heels and testing the ease with which he could move with his shield, all acts more for the people watching than because he actually felt uncertain with his tools, she could feel her heart pick up and her cat purr in enjoyment. It was always nice to watch their man in his element, but the human side of her knew that it was wrong.
Even though he was wearing a full helmet and body armour, she knew that his hair would be a dirty blond, that he had a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled and that he’d have a bite mark on his right shoulder.
She was so lost in her thoughts, she missed when the master started to speak, though she caught the tail end.
“… both of these warriors will be given their freedom today, as well as freedom for their families regardless of whether they win or lose.”
She grinned, triumph soaring through her, once declared in front of the crowd he couldn’t take it back or he’d lose favour with the citizens, and rich as he was, if the citizens turned on him, not only could he lose it all, but he would be viewed as a man without any honour.
“I give you… the Lioness!”
She pulled on her helmet in the shadow behind the gate, and when the door opened she stalked forward, her heart pounding even as she tried to make sense of the name change but dismissed it. She may have been the Amazon as a slave, but she found it fitting for her to be referred too by her true nature on the day that she won her freedom.
Her barbarian tilted his head to the side when she had been announced, clearly confused as he was acquainted with all of the gladiators and gladiatrixes that had been part of their school. Her feline huffed in her mind, her unease put to the back ground over the amount of fun that could be had with this game.
And the fun she had, moving in a way she rarely got to when she was fighting for her life, the two of them moving together in a way that was almost a dance, swords slamming against each other even as she tried not to get cut seeing as how she wasn’t given a shield.
They were at it for a while, moving as if they hadn’t just spent the whole day fighting, neither trying to kill the other but both determined to win. The audience loved it. If you were going to give a performance, even if it didn’t end in death, it had to be full of drama and sparks and together they burned hot enough to burn the place down.
A horn was blown and they separated, both breathing heavy by this point and she pulled her helmet off to grin at him quickly before turning to look up at the dais, positive that the fight would be declared a match and their freedom given to them in the next moment.
She stiffened as with a glance she took in that the master was gone and Hadriana was looking at the two of them with nothing but hatred in her eyes. The moment dragged on and the crowd began to get restless as Hadriana stood, raising her arms in the air to silence the crowd.
“My husband promised them their freedom, and I will honour his words. One will find freedom outside of this ring with their children, the other will find freedom in death. I have spoken, and so it shall be.”
For a split second all the Lioness saw was her short blade flying through the air and slamming into Hadriana’s neck. She could do it, hell, she could probably even get up there before the guards had realised what happened and kill at least five of the nobles that were up there.
Her skin rippled as her cat sought to change and she almost did it, except Cecilia let out a short yowl and she saw two guards pulling her baby from his sister’s arms and another holding a knife to Caecilius’ throat. She changed her grip on her knife, settling it back to a position more suitable for thrusting then throwing because she knew that fast as she was, even with her Barbarian beside her, she wouldn’t be fast enough to protect her children as well.
Hadriana grinned at her, taking the baby from the guard and urging the guards back a few steps while forcing the twins to take seats closer to the front.
“You can begin.”
She slipped her helmet on her head, her fingers curled into claws as her nails extended themselves against her will, her feline fighting to be dominant so she could kill the threat and keep her mate but she forced it back.
No matter how her feline hated it, her children came first and she could see by the look in her barbarian’s eyes that he understood that.
This time when they fought it was vicious with her on the attack, using both claw and sword to attack and yet holding back at the same time, a part of her hoping that their lord would come and overturn his wife’s words.
There was nothing and as the battle dragged on, the Barbarian began to get sloppy. Nothing too major, but none of his hits landed on her, and even when she pulled her sword back he managed to get cut.
She wanted to scream at him to fight her, to let her win, or lose, fairly. Her children were not dumb and they knew him as their father, if she was to die, they would still go with him. He seemed to note her hesitation and picked up his attack, his blows still landing more or less useless but putting more strain on her and causing her older wounds to reopen.
The sand under their feet became sticky and matted with blood, and then suddenly it was over as he stumbled and she got the upper hand, moving stiffly to knocking him off his feet. It had been a silly mistake that had dropped him, one that could’ve been attributed to exhaustion and blood loss except she didn’t smell enough blood on him to justify that.
If anything, she should’ve been the one on the ground, her body aching as the cuts and gashes from her previous battles had all reopened.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst as she pressed the tip of her blade to his throat, her foot pressed on his chest her feline scratching and tearing furrows into her mind over the unfairness, blood dripping from her eyes and mingling with tears at what she would do next.
If she killed him she would have her freedom, because Hadriana would have to let her and her children go, and while she would most likely send assassins after them, once in the wild she and her children would be much harder to find and she’d be free to take care of any threats to them as she wished.
They would belong to themselves. Except she wouldn’t. Because her heart and soul belonged to him, and what was freedom if he wasn’t there to share it?
She looked up at the stands again, already knowing that while he might own her heart and soul, her children were her heart and soul and roared, the sound full of anguish and rage and silencing the amphitheatre even as her stupid, stupid barbarian murmured words of encouragement and love beneath her feet.
Hadriana stared devastated and petrified, tears running down the whore’s face and she roared again, this time the sound being picked up by the other lions below the amphitheatres and by the ones in the gladiator pits. How dare that whore mourn a man she killed out of her spitefulness and jealousy?
Her roar this time promised retribution, for she would come back for her bitch mistress, she would tear her to shreds and bathe in her blood. But now, she would get her freedom.
She tore her helmet off and bent quickly to remove his, her hand trembling as she did so but she refused to leave him trapped in that. If she had the time she would remove his breast plate as well, but she didn’t so instead she pressed a kiss to his lips, her blood and tears landing on his face before she straightened and gave out one final roar, this time a plea to the gods that was mistaken for a battle cry.
She hauled her arm back to deliver the killing blow, raising the sword too high a part of her knowing she should use claws or teeth but not strong enough to take that much responsibility. The silence in the amphitheatre was practically deafening, and then she heard an unmistakable twang and a sharp stab of pain erupted at point on her collarbone, one of the few areas not protected by the breastplate.
She looked at her Barbarian who as staring up at her with shock and horror which was quickly turning into rage. She couldn’t move her neck, or her shoulder and then she heard another twang even as her daughter started to scream, but this time the arrow landed in the soft hollow of her throat, a shot that should’ve been impossible for any ordinary man.
And this time it was her barbarian who roared as she stumbled backwards, her knees giving out and blood filled her throat. She wanted to tell him to get the children, that seeing her die like this could force the twins’ first change, but she couldn’t speak but she tried, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t hear anymore, at least not the sounds of what was going on around her and she could barely see, her normally extra sharp eye sight dimming as black specks began to form.
She died with his name on her lips.
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