"He praised thee so for thy prowess with a weapon," Claudius says, winding back through the memory, "and thou him. The coincidence delighted me. He spoke of thy speed, how it was but a sport to thee but couldst steal his breath and end his life, and I could tell it thrilled him in his blood, to be so at thy mercy. Thou toldst me how he took to the Italian style like he'd been born with a foil in his hand. Thou wert new to love, but even then, thou hadst such untiring admiration for him, in every new thing thou didst share. I remember thou saidst thou couldst fight him every day and bed him every night," he laughs. "Even then, I must have had some sense of intruding, of demanding. Of playing the imperious prince, asking thee to show thy skills for my pleasure. But I did long to see thee. Thou art a thing of beauty, when thou giv'st thyself to what thou dost love."