The intense morning sun beats down, harsh and unrelenting despite the fluttering fall leaves. I lead Buddy out of his stall, and Cassius is already there, tightening Atlas’s girth with practiced ease. He looks up as I approach, a smile spreading across his face.

“You look nice with the sunlight streaming through your hair.” His voice is warm as he reaches out to curl a wayward strand around his thick finger. There’s something different in his posture today—a straightness to his spine, a tilt to his chin that wasn’t there before.

“Ready for our ride?” I reply, trying to shake off the odd feeling that just settled over me.

He nods, mounting Atlas with a fluid grace that still takes my breath away. As we set off toward the stream, I can’t help but notice he’s sitting taller in the saddle, his gaze sweeping over the landscape as though he owns it all.

We’re about halfway through our usual route when we encounter Flavius, struggling with a wheelbarrow full of rocks he’s gathering to build a wall.

“Need a hand?” I call out, already slowing Buddy to a walk as I get ready to dismount.

But before Flavius can respond, Cassius scoffs. “Come now, Flavius. Surely a big, strong gladiator like yourself can handle a few rocks without assistance?”

I blink, taken aback by his condescending tone of voice. Flavius looks equally surprised, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“I… of course,” Flavius mumbles, pushing the wheelbarrow with renewed effort. “Enjoy your ride.”

Later, in the training yard, Cassius’s behavior grows even more concerning. There’s a fluidity to his movements that wasn’t there before, a confidence that borders on arrogance as he spars with Thrax. His makeshift trident becomes a blur as he counters Thrax’s attacks with practiced ease.

“Is that all you have, Thrax?” Cassius taunts, his voice carrying across the yard. “Surely you can do better than that. Or have you grown soft in this new world?”

I wince at the harsh words. Thrax’s face darkens, his next attack coming with more force. But Cassius isn’t done.

“Perhaps you should stick to manual labor. It seems more suited to your… abilities.”

“Cassius!” I call out, my voice sharper than I intended. “A word, please?”

He turns to me, surprise flickering across his face before it settles back into that new, haughty expression that graces his face from time to time. “Of course, Diana. Thrax, we’ll continue this… lesson another time.”

As Cassius approaches, I struggle to reconcile this man with the gentle, uncertain person I’ve worked with for months. Or the sweet lover who is both tender and passionate in bed as he soothes my deepest fears. His posture is different, his chin lifted as if he’s looking down on the world.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his tone almost argumentative.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself of how stressful his life must be, not only fast-forwarding through two millennia, but doing so without any memory of his past. “Cassius, what’s going on? This isn’t like you. The way you’re treating people…”

He frowns, genuine confusion crossing his features. “I don’t understand. I’m simply speaking the truth. Is that not valued in this time?”

“There’s truth, and then there’s cruelty,” I say gently. “You’re hurting people, Cassius. People who care about you.”

Before he can respond, we’re interrupted by excited voices. Jason and Bailey burst into the training yard, their faces lit up with joy.

“Cassius! Diana!” Bailey exclaims. “Guess what? I got an A on my history project!”

“And I didn’t get into a single fight this week,” Jason adds, more than a hint of pride in his voice.

The change in Cassius is immediate and startling. The haughty demeanor melts away, replaced by genuine warmth and pride.

“That’s wonderful news,” he says warmly. “Both of you should be very proud. Tell me all about it.”

As the kids chatter away, Cassius listens attentively, asking questions and offering praise. It’s like watching the man I know and care for slip into place inside someone else’s skin.

Later, when the kids have gone, Cassius turns to me, his expression troubled. “Diana,” he says quietly, “I… I’m not sure what’s happening to me. These memories, these flashes of who I was… Sometimes it’s like I’m two different people.”

I reach out, taking his hand in mine. “I know it’s confusing, Cassius. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve been through a lot and we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

He nods, squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve been… difficult. I never want to hurt you or anyone here.”

As we walk back toward the stables, I wonder what other changes we’ll face as Cassius recovers his memories. The contrast in his behavior is jarring—the dismissive, superior attitude toward his fellow gladiators versus his genuine warmthwith the kids. But I have to believe that somewhere beneath this new arrogance, the kind and gentle man I’ve come to care for still exists.