The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the grand Coliseum. The roar of the crowd reverberated in the air as gladiators fought for glory below, their weapons clashing in a symphony of steel. The emperors sat in their lavish seats, adorned in robes of purple and gold, their faces framed by the grandeur of their empire. Beside them sat you, the sister to the two powerful rulers, a woman of grace and strength, known for your wisdom and presence.

Today, the mood was different. It was a day of celebration, for Marcus, the legendary general who had brought victory after victory to the empire, had returned from his latest campaign. The people cheered his name, but his gaze was fixed on something else — you.

After receiving his honors he moved to sit beside you, his presence was a quiet storm, his eyes fixed on yours as if trying to find something familiar in the changes time had wrought.

“Domina” he murmured, his voice low and heavy, almost like a prayer. His words carried a weight that filled the space between you, a recognition not only of your physical transformation but of the distance time and circumstance had placed between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the gladiators’ struggle below a distant hum in the background. The years of his absence were undeniable, and so was the quiet tension that lingered in the air, unspoken and thick with unacknowledged truths.

His gaze never left you, the words more of an exhalation than a statement.

“By the gods, you’ve grown.”