Descendants of Rome (#3 in Gladiator Series)

Prologue

Prologue

The Colosseum, Rome. 102AD.

The hot sand crackled beneath her boots as her heart beat in time with the song of death.

A song Octavia grew to knew well over her nineteen years of life.

The stands were empty as Octavia dived to her knees, sliding through the thick sand as her sword, raised high, sliced through a slave's stomach.

But that did not mean she could not hear them; the Colosseum had become Octavia's retreat, her home. She had memorised every cheer, every stamp of foot and every fist punched in the air.

Octavia could see them now, praising her.

She had grown up on these sands; she had learnt the art of combat on this sacred ground. It was only right that she would grow up to control them.

Jumping to her feet before the slave had a chance to fall to the ground, Octavia had already dispatched with another 'gladiator' sent to test her.

His blood ran off her blade like water.

Placing her feet perfectly, Octavia pivoted in the sand as the sun warmed her exposed flesh.

Twirling her sword in time with her body, Octavia sliced open the skin on a man's side before she planted the sole of her boot directly above the grievous wound.

The man's scream of pain brought a smile to her lips as she pushed the slave into the ground, his body cracking against the hard ground.

The sand did not comfort his fall, it instead increased his pain. Octavia felt a sense of power envelope her being as it felt like the sand of the arena bowed to her will.

She commanded the man to endure pain and the sand answered.

Lifting her head, Octavia focused her gaze on the next recruit in line, smiling when she saw their starved bodies shrink away from her.

Her fingers gripped her sword as she took a step towards them, her mind focusing on which trick to play next, when her name was called from behind her.

Octavia gave a growl of annoyance as she turned her head slowly and looked over her shoulder.

Who would dare interrupt her session?

But as she saw the three men dressed in floor-length togas treading through the sand towards her, Octavia felt her arm slacken and her heart beat faster than possible.

Turning to face the approaching senators, Octavia bowed her head and waited.

"Octavia," The first man spoke her name carefully, and with sorrow, "You are needed in the palace."

His voice was grave and Octavia glanced up at Senator Luco with uncontrolled fear.

Looking towards the middle of the group she found Alexander. Octavia wanted to go to him, to feel his strong arms cradle her but this was neither the place nor the time.

Her father needed her.

Sheathing her bloodied sword, Octavia retrieved her crimson cape from her slave and marched across the Colosseum.

Disappearing beneath the tunnels, Octavia was escorted by the senators before being shown to her father's room.

Grand beyond measure, Octavia dropped her cape the moment she entered his chambers and raced to his side.

Lying in his bed, he looked weaker than when she left him that morning.

"Father," Octavia called his name as she fell to her knees beside his bed, her hand entwining with his.

Her heart wrenched inside of her chest as she gazed upon his dying form; his skin was pale white and covered with a layer of sweat. His hair fell lank against his pillow and his clothes had grown too large for him as his body began to wither.

It tore her heart to gaze upon her father in such a state when she always saw him as the powerful man she looked up to.

"Octavia," Gaius whispered her name, too weak to speak, "My daughter . . ."

"I'm here, father," Octavia gripped his hand tighter, hoping if her love was enough to keep him there, "I'm here."

Her father smiled softly, turning his head and gazing at her.

His eyes, a strong ebony colour, seemed smaller. The whites around his eyes had turned red and his cheeks appeared sunken.

"I am dying, my love," Gaius licked his dry lips.

Octavia gave a small sob of despair.

"Listen," Her father ordered her with his last few breaths, "Protect the emperor, this is your duty now."

Octavia nodded softly as placed her forehead against the side of his bed, hearing the words that often been repeated in her childhood but now had a grave impact.

As his only child, Octavia carried the weight of his legacy to protect and succeed.

"You are the daughter of the senate," Gaius's voice filled her ears, "You shall advise the emperor. Protect the emperor and his empire."

Octavia closed her eyes as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Burying her head in the sheets, Octavia felt her father's grip slacken in her hand.

Her body remained motionless as her mind thought about what it meant before she slowly lifted her head and looked up at her father.

Her lips trembled and the tears began to flow as she gazed upon her father.

A good man that now slept with the Gods.