Tertius
The roar of the Colosseum was deafening and even Remus found himself holding his breath as the commentator announced the start of the fight.
The sand underneath Sirius’s and James’s feet was already streaked with the blood of earlier battles.
From his seat in the imperial box, Remus leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he watched the scene unfold.
To the untrained eye, Sirius and James looked every bit the part of enemies ready to tear each other apart. Their glares were fierce, their weapons held with lethal intent.
“They’re not really going to fight each other, are they?” Peter asked, his voice loud enough to cut through the noise. He sounded almost nervous.
Lily, sitting beside him, smirked. “Of course they are. That’s the point of the arena, isn’t it? Blood, guts, and glory.”
Remus shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as Sirius took an exaggerated step toward James, his sword gleaming in the sunlight. “They’re not going to kill each other,” he said, half to himself. “Look at them. It’s all theater.”
“Theater?” Peter repeated, incredulous.
“Watch.” Remus gestured toward the arena as Sirius lunged at James, his sword slashing through the air. James barely moved out of the way in time, his spear coming up in a smooth, practiced arc to block the attack. The sound of metal clashing echoed across the arena, and the crowd went wild.
But to Remus, it was clear that the movements were too precise, too coordinated. James’s spear swipe didn’t aim for Sirius’s exposed side but instead swung wide, where Sirius could parry it easily. Likewise, Sirius’s sword strikes were aimed not at James’s body, but at his shield or just above his head, where they would look dramatic but cause no real harm.
“They’re toying with the crowd,” Remus muttered, a trace of a smile playing on his lips.
“Maybe.” Lily tilted her head, studying the pair. “Or maybe they’re just really good at not dying.”
James and Sirius circled each other, their weapons flashing as they exchanged blows. Each strike and block was a masterpiece of choreography, their movements fluid. To the crowd, it must have looked like a fight to the death—two warriors locked in mortal combat.
But to Remus, it was something else entirely.
“They’re putting on a show,” he said again, more certain this time. “Look at them. They’re performing.”
And they were. Sirius grinned as he ducked under James’s spear, spinning to land a shallow slash against James’s side—not deep enough to do any damage, but enough to draw blood for the crowd. James retaliated with a dramatic thrust, which Sirius blocked with his shield, the force of the impact sending him stumbling back in a way that was just a bit too theatrical.
“You’re right,” Lily said, her voice low. “They’re barely hitting each other. They’re—”
“Dancing,” Remus finished.
Sirius and James were masters of their craft, their every move designed to thrill the audience. Sirius lunged, James blocked. James countered, Sirius dodged. The sand beneath their feet swirled as they moved, their steps as precise as a practiced routine.
The crowd was eating it up, their cheers growing louder with every strike and dodge.
Sirius swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade just missing James’s neck. James ducked, rolling to the side before coming up with his spear leveled at Sirius’s chest. For a moment, the two of them froze, their weapons inches from each other, their eyes locked in a fierce stare.
And then Sirius smirked.
James smirked back.
The two of them leapt apart, their movements as synchronized as a pair of dancers.
“See?” Remus said, gesturing toward them. “They’re working together. They’re not trying to kill each other—they’re trying to keep the crowd entertained.”
Lily frowned. “That’s… risky. If the crowd figures it out—”
“They won’t,” Remus interrupted. “Not unless they’re paying close attention. And besides, even if they did, they wouldn’t care. The crowd doesn’t want death. They want a show.”
Peter leaned forward, squinting at the arena. “How do you think they learned to fight like that? I mean, look at them. They’re… incredible.”
“Years of practice,” Remus said simply. “And probably some desperation. You don’t get that good without a lot of reasons to stay alive.”
Down in the arena, Sirius and James were nearing the climax of their performance. Sirius feinted to the left, drawing James’s spear in that direction, before spinning and bringing his sword down in a powerful strike. James blocked it with his shield, the impact sending him stumbling back.
Sirius advanced, pressing the attack, his strikes fast and relentless. The crowd was on its feet now, roaring with excitement as Sirius drove James to the edge of the arena.
And then, in a final, dramatic move, James spun, using the momentum of Sirius’s next strike to throw him off balance. Sirius stumbled, his sword flying from his hand as James leveled his spear at his throat.
But Remus could see the smile on Sirius’s face, the way his body was relaxed even as James held a weapon to his neck. This wasn’t defeat. It was the finale. The crowd was screaming for Missio.
They want mercy, Remus thought to himself. Because they enjoy being entertained by these two. They don’t want them to die. That’s how Sirius and James stayed alive for so long.
Remus had to admit, it was kind of brilliant.
Beside him, his father stood from his chair and held his arm in the air. His thumb went up as the air filled with an electricity that gave Remus goosebumps.
“The gods have decided for mercy.”
James held the pose for a moment longer before stepping back and lowering his spear. Sirius straightened, brushing sand from his armor as the crowd chanted their names.
Remus leaned back in his seat, a wry smile on his face. “Well,” he said, “I suppose that’s one way to survive in Rome.”
Lily snorted. “If that’s surviving, I’d hate to see what dying looks like.”
Peter, for once, was silent, his eyes wide as he stared at the arena.
And down below, Sirius and James basked in the crowd’s adoration, their smiles unbroken even as they left the stage.