Alit hadn't winced when Leo's blade bit into his arm, bright blood flowing free. But when Emperor Leo wiped the wound down with a wine-soaked cloth, he found himself hard pressed to stop a small yelp. Leo chuckled in amusement.
"My finest gladiator afraid of a little injury?" He teased softly, before picking up a second bowl, this one with vinegar, and carefully used that to ensure the injury remained clean. Alit kept his lips tightly pressed together, refusing to allow a single breath to pass until the sting eased off.
"I'm not afraid," he declared when it ended. "You just took me by surprise, that's all." He rolled his shoulder carefully; the wound wasn't serious, but he suspected Leo would want to wait until it healed before they sparred again.
The young Emperor merely regarded him with a hint of amusement in his eyes, before he leaned forward, whispering prayers to the gods of healing that the injury, small as it was, heal clean and quickly. Alit wasn't so sure if they would have any effect, but he wasn't sure if they wouldn't either. He'd always offered his< prayers to the gods of combat, tactics, and victory. So far, they'd honored and blessed him, so he did the same to them. That was all he'd ever found necessary.
Truth to tell, he'd offered a few extra prayers at the temple of love, after the first time he and Leo came together. He'd not actually believed for quite some time that the Emperor himself had an interest in him. It seemed like some sort of wild fantasy, that someone so powerful and wealthy and so much better than he was would want him.
Alit had no illusions about what he was. He'd been born into poverty and becoming a gladiator was his only path to bettering himself. So he'd learned how to fight, and found a knack for it when it came to doing so bare-handed. For years he'd sparred against anyone who would come up against him, being sold from one person to another, finding those of wealth who would sponsor him in the arena.
It wasn't often that the Emperor himself deigned to enter the arena and when he did, whoever he fought against almost always lost. Those who found themselves victorious often ended up worse off than before. City gossip held that some of his councilors ensured that those rare victors were sold elsewhere, if not actually set up against someone in a death match. Death during the games didn't happen often but it wasn't impossible. Other methods could be used as well - wounds not treated properly or someone ambushed in the night - death struck in many ways.
But when Leo and Alit fought that first time, Alit refused to let him win without working for it, and he emerged the victor. He did wonder what might have happened if Leo hadn't held a hand out to him and said quite simply, "I'd like to fight against you again."
Alit stared at the extended hand for a few seconds, then clasped it in his own, the two of them smiling at one another, emotions flickering that flowered later. "My pleasure, Your Majesty."
So it had begun. They sparred against one another day after day, and all the best sponsors in the city politely lined up to offer Alit everything he could ever want. A few of the wealthier - but not noble - ones even made marriage offers. He'd turned them all down as politely as he could. He'd never found himself that interested in marriage. Though he did admit, in the silence of his mind, if it were possible, then he might have - no. Alit knew better than to have some dreams.
One day Leo would marry someone else. Alit suspected that their relationship would still continue, just on an even lower level than it was now. The entire court knew what he and Leo got up to. Leo was the Emperor - he could and did have anyone in his bed that he wanted. He might not be as open about it once he actually married someone, but it would continue. At least, if Alit wanted it to. Alit didn't know, in all truth.
For now, however, he didn't worry about it. Leo wasn't even betrothed to anyone else. All he had to worry about was the next time they sparred against one another.
"So when do you want to do this again?" Alit wanted to know as Leo wrapped his arm with a clean cloth. The wound barely even hurt anymore. It had been a clean hit and he'd won the fight anyway. As far as he was concerned, he could have gone up again without any problems at all.
Leo regarded him sternly however. "Not until the priests can assure me that this is healed all the way. I want you at your best." He grinned a bright grin, like the sun given mortal flesh. "It wouldn't be as interesting to fight you if you weren't doing the best you can."
Alit wasn't going to argue that, even if it mildly annoyed him. Leo guided him to a pleasant little nook where he could get some rest - rest he wasn't going to admit that he actually needed. But the sun streamed in and there was wine in a fine cup and a splendid meal waiting for the both of them. He settled down there, Leo next to him, weapon-hardened hand resting against his own skin. Alit could not have found a more perfect moment if he'd gone to search for one.
But he saw no reason to look when everything he wanted was right here with him.
Notes: You know, post-canon, Leo and Alit would both be Emperors of a sort. Or both just ordinary people, either way. That could be fun to explore.
