Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Help me..."

That was all Kalias could hear these days. The cries of the unfortunate. The damned. The dying. The cheers of crowds, the hoots, hollers, and taunts of the ones fortunate enough to watch and live.

A cloth and bucket of water was balanced precariously in his arms as he made his way through the long tunnels. Long and winding with only torches to light the way. He had to pause occasionally to steady his balance through the rocky paved paths. The snarling animals and the shouts of prisoners echoed through the tunnels, the firelight flickering with each small breeze.

When Kalias arrived at the gladiator barracks, a cramped space full of people- mostly middle aged men with scruffy beards and bloodcaked armor- he was immediately enveloped in the smell of sweat and the metallic scent of blood.

"Aye." One man called, beckoning with one large, calloused hand. "Avitus' wound needs stitchin' again. It got torn fighting another damn cat."

Kalias merely managed to nod his throat too tight to speak. He made his way to the mentioned warrior, footsteps measured even as his anxiety was spiked through the roof. He stopped a foot away from the mentioned man, softly clearing his throat, the water bucket sloshing as his arms around it tightened.

"Avitus?"

Avitus, a gruff looking man, barely acknowledged Kalias, his tanned skin rippling as he moved to sit. He presented his festering wound. The wound was long and deep, the skin easily torn away, the muscles exposed and bare as blood and puss oozed out. The s steadily. The stench was bad, and made Kalias' stomach flip. Yet, he had to keep himself together. Had to do his job. He's seen worse. Cleaned worse. That's what he told himself even as he closed his eyes to push away the memories of blood on the sheets and the trembling body, wracked with cries of a child no older than himself.

. "Clean it," the man demanded, snapping Kalias out of his mind. His voice rough, dark eyes narrowing as he glared at Kalias.

Assessing.

Searching.

Kalias merely nodded again, soaking the cloth into the water-wringing it out. He watched the water trickle and fall back into the bucket in rivulets. Carefully, he dabbed at the festering laceration, wiping at the crusted blood. The water was quick to turn a pale crimson and Kalias had to take multiple trips in refilling it. It felt tedious for him as Avitus was always moving. The man just couldn't sit still without cursing or muttering under his breath.

When he was finished, Kalias stepped away with a satisfied nod, the tension in his shoulders releasing. Something he hadn't even realized he was doing.

"Let me go get some bandages." He didn't wait for Avitus' reply, wanting to get away from the suffocating presence of a man that stared him down like he was prey in a trap.

He set down the bucket as he made his way to another older man. Not a gladiator, but a healer, just like himself. Middle aged by the looks of it- or older-With scruffy graying hair and olive skin that seemed to always hold a new scar every time Kalias saw him.

"Leon." Kalias acknowledged as he approached, his small hand gently reaching out to tap the older man's arm. "Are there any bandages nearby?"

Leon turned, his partially milky eye wandering for a moment before landing unsteadily on Kalias. "Ah." His voice was a low rasp, barely above a whisper. His skin stretched over his bones almost grotesquely. Kalias worried he would kneel over and die at any moment.

"I'm sorry, my boy. We haven't had time to restock."

Kalias' heart sank.

"Again?"

His shoulders slumped as he kicked at a pebble at the ground dejectedly. "When do we ever get to restock again?" It had felt like forever since they've had a full stock of medical supplies. The Emperor was always demanding for entertainment that seemed to end in bloodshed or even death with no time to actually commit to healing.

Leon's bony fingers drummed on a wooden table beside him in a steady, almost calming rhythm. "In a few days." His voice wavered, as if he himself was unsure when the next time their inventory would be full again. "That's how long the last restock took."

Kalias deflated even more, but managed to nod and give a grateful smile to Leon even as he felt his stomach drop. "Thank you. For telling me."

Leon merely nodded before turning back to the table, his bony hand tracing an engravement Kalias never understood. All he knew was that it was quite old and very important to Leon.

Silently, Kalias returned to Avitus.

The gladiator seemed to tell that something wasn't quite right and his scowl deepened. "Useless." He muttered coldly as he noted that there were no bandages in the younger boy's hands. "All you pathetic medics are useless!"

He stood up, his full height towering over Kalias' small form. "Can't do anything right, can you? Can't even clean a wound right!" He waved his arm, in which the gash was once again oozing blood and puss.

Avitus' voice dripped with venom, his face red, eyes bloodshot. "Putanas yos! Useless fuck!"

Kalias barely flinched as the insults were hurled at him straight on. He only lowered his head and accepted the fury. "I'm sorry. We ran out.." He trailed off, knowing his words barely processed in Avitus' mind. The room seemed to cave in around him as the gladiator's scolding seemed to catch the attention of the others around them. He felt hundreds of eyes on him. He could feel the disdain, the disappointment.

Kalias hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself small, his hands clenching at his sides as his jaw clenched to keep himself from crying. He was the best medic they had. Pretty much the only one since all the others were dead.

"Alright, you fuckn' maggots!" A voice suddenly cut through the air, loud and booming. The torches around them seemed to flutter as the man stepped into the barracks, his large frame filling the space. "Get your sorry asses up!" The man's expression was stoic, tan skin rippling with scars, as he waved a hand. He adjusted his tunic.

"Lucius! Avitus!"

Avitus seemed to stiffen like he was just struck in the back. He gave Kalias a final cold glare as if everything was his fault. Lucius, on the other hand, merely stood with a slight swagger, eyes glittering with anticipation. Both men strapped on discarded armor before pushing past the man. They made eye contact and it seemed that a silent conversation had happened before the two men disappeared into the tunnels and towards the cheers and screams of the crowd outside.

Kalias's eyes lit up a fraction. "Alphonsus!"

The man, Alphonsus, turned his head to Kalias and his expression softened a fraction. Kalias felt the tightness in his chest release as he scuttled forward, lowering his head slightly as he hurried out of the Barracks. His job was done anyway.

Alphonsus would handle the rest. He always did.

Chapter Text

The tunnels were always cold, the torches the only source of warmth. Kalias' hands were empty as his arms hung idly by his sides. He had nowhere else to go at this point. No family to crawl back to. No friends to waste his time with. He was stuck in the tunnels of the colosseum. Only to be drowned in the sounds shouting and the roars of animals.

"You." A guard who patrolled these tunnels stopped behind the boy, voice cold and almost bored.

Kalias jumped at the cool voice behind him. Slowly, he turned, his body hunched. He looked like a child who was caught red handed when he did nothing wrong.

The guard snorted. His eyes raking over Kalias' thin form with an expression that made his skin crawl. "you're a specimen. I'm surprised His Grace hasn't asked for you yet." His expression was crude, his comments even more vile.

Kalias, for his part, didn't seem to comprehend the guard's words, brows furrowed.

"I'm not a specimen," his voice was guarded.

The guard merely laughs. Sharp and mocking. "You're not? I doubt it. You look like cattle to me. Human cattle." His lip curled into a nasty smile as he gestured with a flourish of his hand.

Kalias' hand unconsciously gripped his arm tightly, his eyes downcast as he stared at his skin.

The skin he once scrubbed till raw in hopes to wash away the color.

The skin in which his nails raked down to carve out each blotch of white.

"I'm not. A specimen." He grit out again, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Oh but you are." The guard jeered. "A little calf." He stepped closer until he backed the poor boy against the stone wall, eyes narrowing almost lustfully. "Almost as much as a specimen the emperor keeps in his possession. Pretty and unique." A pause. Too bad only the Emperor gets a taste of the gods."

Kalias' throat went dry and he swallowed with difficulty, his Adam's apple bobbing and the guard's eyes seemed to follow.

"Awe." The guard cooed mockingly with a click of his tongue. "A nervous calf, arentcha?" A thick finger planted itself on Kalias' chest, trailing down his tunic with a slow, disgustingly sensual gesture.

Kalias recoiled, the touch feeling like needles jabbing his nerves. Sharp and uncomfortable. He smacked the man's hand away with a terrified expression.

"Don't touch me..." He breathed, his back pressed into the stone wall, jaw and fists clenched.

"Don't touch you?" the guard echoed coldly, smiling. "You can't be serious, little calf. I can't touch you?"

He threw his head back and barked a laugh.

"Little boys like you rarely have any say in what we do with you." He continued to advance, his thick hand now planted firmly on the boy's chest, squeezing the supple flesh with a pleased groan.

Kalias lurched, his stomach dropping, his heart jumping into his throat.

Filthy.

Disgusting.

It felt so wrong. It was wrong.

He wanted to run, but his body had froze. Don't move. it'll be over faster...right?

The hand on his chest continued to squeeze and dig into his skin, making his hair stand and goosebumps rose on his skin. He squirmed but the hand just squeezed tighter. A thick finger crept down, slipping into his tunic.

Kalias went rigid. It was touching his skin. His skin.

A sob bubbled in his throat, but didn't escape. Showing weakness would only make the man more eager.

Yet, when the hand wouldn't stop, Kalias finally couldn't stand still anymore. With a cry, he pushed the guard away, clutching at his tunic as he stumbled down the tunnel.

The guard snarled furiously. He hadn't been denied like that before. It was infuriating to say the least. Before the man could chase after Kalias, a large hand had grabbed him by the neck, squeezing with deadly control. He could still breathe, but barely. He hadn't noticed the eyes that watched, the looming presence just a hair away.

"Alphonsus!"

Kalias had stopped when he heard the choking gasps of the guard echoing down the tunnel walls. When he saw Aphonsus, his expressions brightened, and his heart rate slowed to a steadier rhythm. His hopeful expression made Alphonsus' own usual stoic face soften once again.

"Kalias." Alphonsus acknowledged as he began to crush the guard's windpipe with agonizing slowness, the veins on his hands popping. He gave the boy a soft smile while he continued to strangle the life out of the guard like it was no big deal.

The guard could only gurgle and choke as bile and saliva bubbled up and trickled down his trembling chin. His eyes bulged obscenely, his hands pathetically scrabbling at the calloused ones, legs tangling in his own scaled armor.

Alphonsus then yanked the guard close, nose to nose. His voice was low- a furious snarl.

"This was your last warning, piece of shit. And you fucked it up. You dare lay your hands on a healer?" His face was twisted into an ugly snarl. "Hes the only reason the emperor is able to have the same desired fighters in this gods forsaken place!"

With those words, there was a dull snapping sound and the guard's body went limp, his head lulling back to reveal a reddish purple blotched face, a swollen tongue, and bloodshot eyes. His neck stuck in a crooked and unnatural angle as he foamed at the mouth.

Kalias gaped with shock as he watched the guard's body crumple to the ground with a sickening thud. His eyes were wide, his throat dry from the sight. He certainly had seen all sorts of injuries like broken bones, gashes, and torn off limbs. But watching a death right in front of his eyes was something else entirely. He stumbled back, pressing against the wall as he choked back vomit.

Alphonsus kicks the body away before striding forward to gently rub the boy's back soothingly. "There, there. You're alright. Don't worry." He pulled back, clapping a gentle hand on Kalias's back. "Off you go, my boy. You should take a break. Get some food. The body will be fed to the lions." He laughs, as if throwing corpses of humans to wild animals was the funniest thing he had ever done.

Kalias merely nodded, smiling tightly. "Yes. Thank you." He bowed his head slightly in thanks before scuttling away, not even glancing at the now mangled corpse being dragged away..

When he finally stepped out of the tunnels, he exhaled the scent of the city. The scent of grilled sea food led him to a stand, in which he ogled at impaled fish on sticks hungrily.

The old man at the stand narrows his beady eyes. "Shoo, Thetes. Filthy scoundrel." He waved a bony hand. His beard was scruffy and grey, his skin all wrinkles. His eyes narrowed so much they almost disappeared into the wrinkles from his displeasure.

Kalias deflated, a low, tired sigh escaping his chapped lips and his stomach chose that time to growl loudly. His face flushed with embarrassment and he quickly turned away, mumbling an apology.

He scuttles down the street, rubbing his arms subconsciously as his stomach aches for food he could never afford.

Chapter Text

Blue eyes.

That is what Kalias has seen as he wandered the busy streets of the city, stomach still growling hungrily. It was only a glimpse, but it had not escaped his sharp eyes. He saw the kid’s attire. A peplos wrapped around its small body. It almost looked too big for such a small body. He had to pause as he stared at the retreating figure, his brows furrowed.

They had made eye contact only a few minutes ago. It was only a glance, but Kalias had felt the weight in those eyes. He saw the smeared cosmetics, the tear tracks that carved down the kid’s face. Their lips were swollen and smeared with red, hair tousled with its golden bands.

The kid had barely reacted when their eyes met. Their face was quick to turn away as Kalias saw a hand of a large man planted itself on the child’s shoulder blade, the thumb rubbing circles over bruises that Kalias had failed to catch before.

Kalias felt an ache in his stomach that was not hunger. He had seen that look. The look of numbness. A look that he had seen in slaves. Whether it was an adult or child. He always saw it. And it hurt. It always did. It was a tightness in his chest, an ache that sometimes was too much to bear. He always wished he could see those people smile, but with his job, he never really had the time or freedom to do so. All he could do was watch them smile when they took a final breath.

Kalias so badly wanted to follow, to reach out to the kid. But looking at the large man before him, his face a mask of shadows, he thought better of it. His skin crawled as he remembered the guard. The guard that touched him. So, he merely watched, helplessness pooling in his gut. He was a healer. He was supposed to help people. Not stand by and watch like an audience.

Before Kalias could rethink his actions, the boy was already gone, vanished along with the crowd. Along with the man. He sighs softly, dejectly. He had been indecisive. He hadn’t acted fast enough. After a long moment of watching the spot where the boy had vanished, he turned and walked down the crowded streets.

—----

The gladiator barracks were once again full. Groups of people were clamored together, strapping on their armor and cleaning their swords with care. Kalias, for his part, merely watched from the bars of the window as the roars of the crowd and the grunts of fighters bounced off the  walls.

He watched how the sword sliced through the air, how the spear jabbed and parried. He watched as the two gladiators danced on the sand, the resounding clang of metal on metal almost deafening.

One man looked skinny, thin and almost graceful the way he moved across the sand. The other man was large, each step heavy but strong as he lunged forward with his sword. The cheers of the crowd slowly died down. It was as if everyone was so enamoured by the sparring in front of them, they had forgotten to cheer.The crowd watched in silence, some leaning out of their seats while others were fully standing, expression unreadable for Kalias from such a distance. But he could feel the awe of the crowd from a mile away. The air was electric with buzzing energy as one of the fighters thrust his weapon forward.

The spear pierced through flesh was a wet shrk sound.

The fighter with the sword had been half way through a downswing where he had left his whole midsection open when the spear had pierced him so easily it was almost laughable. The larger man seemed to stiffen for a moment, the sword slipping out of his hands. He stared at the scrawnier man. The look was murderous. It was the look of a man who wanted to pay in blood.

After a long moment of silence, the larger man staggered back, yanking the spear from the smaller one’s grasp with a wet snarl. The spear was still lodged in the large man’s abdomen which seemed to stem the flow of the bleeding. The smaller man stumbled back, looking at how now empty hands and then to the furious gladiator before him. The whole crowd let out collective groans and or cheers if they had put bets on either gladiator.

Kalias sucked in a breath as he watched, his body stiff. The wound was deep, but not fatal. Not yet at least. After a long moment, he turned away, not wanting to watch it anymore. His stomach already dropping as he knew he would have to try and patch up the man with the hole in his stomach. He knew the other gladiator had no chance of survival. 

As if right on cue, the roar of the crowd amplified and Kalias couldn’t help but turn to look out in the area. There, the larger man with the spear still lodged in his abdomen, presented the head of his opponent with a triumphant grin, blood painting the sand an ombre red. Kalias felt his stomach flip and he turned away once again and shuffled back to the barracks. 

—-----------

Kalias was tirelessly hunched over the gladiator that had won a victory, pursing his lips as he carefully sewed the stab wound closed with steady hands. His eyes were narrowed as he pulled each stitch tightly, mumbling apologies more to himself than the grunting gladiator who was cursing like he was suffering the most. After a few more moments of silence, Kalias adjusted his toga and straightened. 

“You shouldn’t fight for a few days. Clean the wound daily to let it heal properly.” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek “I apologize for not having bandages on hand.” 

The larger man scoffs. He didn’t even say a thank you. He merely walked off without a second glance and Kalias deflated. He was so tired. Tired of his job. He sat on a nearby bench where he blankly kicked at the small pebbles, crunching under his sandals. 

“Kalias!” 

Kalais’ head shot up and he looked around, catching Alphonsus’ eye through the blur of the groups of other fighters. and his face immediately brightened.

Alphonsus made his way to kneel beside Kalias, hand planting on his shoulder affectionately. Kalias winced, as if expecting to feel a hand on his chest, to squeeze his chest. But, it didn't happen. He looked at Alphonsus with pursed lips and the other man gave a reassuring smile before pulling his hand away. 

“Hey. sorry ‘bout earlier…” He gave a sympathetic smile. 

Kalias just looked away. He couldn’t handle Alphonsus’ pity. It was too much for him. “It’s fine.” 

No. Why would it be fine? 

He changed the subject quickly.

 “What’s going on? Did someone else get hurt?” His hands wrung in his lap, toying with the fabric of his tunic in worrying tugs. The room seemed to grow heavier around him, making it almost impossible to breathe deeply. His hands were clenching at his tunic and his stomach ached still from the lack of food. 

“Have you not eaten?” Alphonsus inquired, his thick brows furrowing with worry. “I thought you did after… all that.” He trailed off, the realization dawning. He sighs. “I see. Well, let's get you something to eat before our exchange.” He beckoned to Kalias, motioning him to follow.

Kalias hesitated, unsure of what was going to happen next. But after a lon, indecisive pause, he stood up and followed on Alphonsus’ heels.” 

“Alphonsus, what do you mean exchange?” He asked hesitantly, afraid of what the answer would be. He was already worried about the meager supplies of bandages and medicine down in the barracks, he couldn’t start worrying about something new entirely without going insane. 

Alphonsus continued to stride down the long tunnels in which Kalias had to jog to catch up. “The exchange,” he began. “Is nothing to worry about. His majesty merely wishes to see you. Since you are the main healer to keep his entertainment alive.” His voice sounded somewhat bitter before he turned his head with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry though, Leon and I will handle your job when you're gone.” 

Kalias’s stomach seemed to roll as he stared at Alphonsus. The anxious lump in his throat returned and he stopped in his tracks just to process what the older man had said. He was going to be gone? Somewhere else where the old man and Alphonsus would take over? It sounded absurd. 

An Kalias knew without a doubt that it would be the least absurd thing he had ever heard.