Disclaimer: everything you recognize belongs to HBO, though I wish to gods Pullo was mine ...

Warning: deals with a minor character's death.

A/N: "Sanguis" - Latin for blood, bloodshed.

Character: Titus Pullo

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Sanguis

There was a time I'd revel in it. In the heat of battle it would call to me. Seduce. Entice. Overwhelm me ...

It was terrifying, yet exhilarating. When I was under its spell, that's when I truly felt alive. Faced with the enemy, the need to kill was allconsuming. In the end, all that mattered was the survival of the fittest. To feel the adrenaline pumping. The blood coursing like wildfire through my veins and hear its roar in my ears. To smell its sickly-sweet, metallic tang in the air. To have both mettle and skill tested to the limit. To be the victor and not the victim.

Vorenus called it the red mist or bloodlust ...

I no longer feel it. Not now. Not when I'm kneeling by our bed, cradling my beloved Eirene's tiny, delicate, bloodsoaked hand in mine. What I once revelled in, now repulses me. Leaves me devastated. Dead inside. The stench sickens me as my wife lies in a crimson pool. Seeing her wane, with every vital, precious, bloody drop draining away ...

It covers me and I would gladly - willingly - shed all of mine, if it meant she survived. But as the gentle blush of vitality swiftly fades from Eirene's cheeks and I hear her final breath, I know I'll never take pleasure in bloodshed again.

That blood is life and is everything we all desperately cling to ...

Finis