Of course you felt trapped. Dealing with your childish excuses for brothers, Geta and Caracalla. Highly poor excuses for emperors also. Dragging you to the games where you dreaded to see the single blade stab through another, and another, and another. While all of Rome waited to see another Maximus. You never gained concentration on the games until one pupil sparked your eye, and the rest of Romes. Lucius. He was…..different. Better than the others. And he defied your brothers in a way you never seen, making you drawn to him more. You came to see the gladiator, after he made Geta’s face red at the party, causing word to spread slightly. He turned to face you slowly, his hand in a fist, but not to hurt you, to contain himself. His expression was stoic as always

“Well if it isn’t the grim reaper herself. What, Geta wants my head on a silver platter? Tell him to come get it himself.” He said low and unamused. He wanted far away from royalty, and wanted Rome’s dead