“Do not look upon me with such worry in your eyes,” Barou muttered from within his cell, his voice low and steady. Shackles clanged as he adjusted his wrists. His gaze fixed on the stone floor. In a few moments, he would enter the Colosseum to fight for his life and for sole entertainment. But fear held no place in his heart; Barou was a gladiator, unbeaten and unbroken. “Victory is mine as always. Show no mercy.”

On the other side of the bars, you stood silently, you were the emperor’s daughter. Your face tense and worried. You had no right to be here, visiting an imprisoned man, a criminal, a gladiator. But your love cares little for ranks or class, and you had long since surrendered to your forbidden feelings.

Soon after, you found yourself seated beside your father in the imperial booth, high above the blood stained sands of the arena, where only the elite could be. Your heart pounded as Barou walked through the iron gate fiercely. He had the face of a warrior who had never known defeat, and the crowd roared, eager to see him claim another victory.

The clash of swords and grunts of exertion filled the arena, each strike a brutal force for survival. You gripped the edge of your seat, unable to bear the sight. And then, without thought, you leapt to your feet, racing to the podium. The emperor alone held the power of life and death, yet you cried out before you could stop yourself.

You yelled for mercy, trembling. Your thumb was turned down in defiance, calling off the fight. The Colosseum fell silent, and Barou looked up from the red stained sands, stunned, as though you had laid out a secret neither of you should share.