Quintus
The evening air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread as servants bustled around the grand dining hall. Golden torches lined the walls, their light flickering against the opulent marble and casting long shadows across the sprawling banquet table.
The emperor sat at the head, his gilded tunic catching the firelight, while Remus, Lily, and Peter occupied seats further down the table.
Tonight, however, there were two extra places set—a rarity in the imperial household.
“Gladiators,” Peter murmured as he adjusted his tunic for the fifth time. “Actual gladiators. At dinner. With us. Can you believe it?”
“More like pawns in Father’s latest political game,” Remus said flatly, taking a sip of watered wine.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Come on Remus.
This could be interesting. When was the last time we had guests who didn’t want to marry into the family or plot your Father’s assassination?”
Peter snorted. “True. Though I doubt they’re here for the intellectual conversation.”
“Be quiet,” Remus said, though he couldn’t help but smirk.
The doors to the hall creaked open, and every head turned.
Two figures strode in, flanked by imperial guards. Even out of their armor, Sirius Black and James Potter cut an imposing figure. Sirius wore a dark, fitted tunic that clung to his lean frame. His black curls were loose around his shoulders, and his sharp blue eyes scanned as if already preparing for his next fight.
James, on the other hand, exuded warmth. His tunic was simpler, though no less well-made, and his unruly dark hair framed a face that seemed perpetually on the verge of a smile.
Unlike Sirius, who seemed ready to take on the world at any moment, James walked with the easy charm of someone who already had.
“Ah, our champions!” The emperor’s voice boomed, rising to greet them. “Sirius Black and James Potter. The finest warriors Rome has ever seen.”
Sirius bowed deeply, though the smirk on his face never quite left. “Your Majesty honors us. Though I suspect Rome enjoys our battles more than our company.”
James elbowed him, grinning. “What my friend means to say is, we’re grateful for the invitation.”
The emperor laughed, waving a hand. “Come, sit. You’ve earned a place at my table.”
As the two men approached, Remus studied them carefully. These were the Gladiators he had watched earlier in the day—the ones who were put in the arena by the very man who was sharing his meal with them tonight. He would understand ignorance, wrath, outright hatred.
What he did not understand was companionable kindness.
“They’re just people,” Remus said under his breath, earning a sharp look from Peter.
“Just people?” Peter whispered back. “They’re practically legends.”
“Legends bleed like anyone else,” Remus muttered.
Sirius and James took their seats near the emperor, directly across from Remus, Lily, and Peter.
Lily leaned forward slightly, her green eyes bright with curiosity. “I’ve never met Gladiators before,” she said, her voice polite but tinged with mischief. “Do you always fight so… theatrically?”
James raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “We aim to please,” he said, his grin infectious. “Though it’s easier to put on a show when you trust the person trying to stab you.”
“Trust?” Remus asked, his tone skeptical.
Sirius smirked, turning his sharp gaze on Remus. “We may fight with swords, but we’re not enemies. Not with each other, anyway.”
Lily tilted her head. “That’s… unexpected. I thought Gladiators were supposed to be ruthless.”
“Oh, we’re ruthless,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. “Just not to each other. There’s no glory in dying for someone else’s amusement.”
“And yet, here you are,” Remus said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Sirius’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk leaving his face. “Here we are,” he echoed, his tone dripping with irony. He looked Remus once over, his eyes staying on the place where Remus hid his trembling hand under his tunic. “Aren’t we all performing, one way or another?”
James cleared his throat, clearly sensing the tension. “Forgive Sirius. He’s always been a bit… dramatic.”
Remus dropped his gaze, embarrassed. He could feels his father‘s eyes on him and didn’t dare to look up again.
“Sirius, my trusting sources tell me your mother and brother are planning to come and see the games in five days time. They are already on their way,” Lyall said, eyes glinting with the hint that he was going somewhere with this.
Peter, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly looked up, excited. “So the rumors are true? You’re the Sirius Black,-”
“The one who was sold by his own family?” Sirius finished for him, his tone light but his eyes dark. “Yes, that’s me. A family legacy to be proud of.”
There was an awkward silence, broken only by the clatter of servants bringing in the first course.
Finally, Remus‘s father spoke up again. “I want you both to win next time. And when you do, I will give you the Rudis. For your freedom.”
The room went completely silent as Sirius and James stared at the emperor in disbelief.
The Rudis was the wooden sword Gladiators used in their training, - or a gift to symbolize their freedom.
If they win, they would be free men. Heroes, even. But Heroes that had survived.
Slowly, Sirius turned his gaze from the emperor to James, blue eyes wide. “Well fuck me, when they said dinner with the emperor, I didn’t expect this.”
James quickly put his hand over Sirius‘s mouth. “Be quiet, don’t ruin this.”
Then he turned to Remus‘s father, inclining his head. “We will forever be thankful for your generosity, emperor Lyall.”
Watching them, Remus was sure that any arrogance or coolness, in and outside the arena was just a show. In the end, every man was afraid to die and these men have just been promised a life without that fear.
All Gladiators are just slaves.
As the dinner drew to a close, the emperor raised his cup in a toast. “To Sirius Black and James Potter. May your names be remembered long after the sands of the arena have turned to dust.”
-
-
“Do you believe him?” Lily asked Remus, later in the evening.
They had been sitting in his room, quietly observing the brown leaves being swept away by the evening breeze outside the window.
“Father?” Remus’s tone was dry. “Of course not.”
She gave him a pointed look, her green eyes sharp. “I’m serious, Remus. The emperor promising freedom to Gladiators? That wooden sword isn’t just a token. It’s everything. Do you really think he’ll give it to them?”
Remus sighed. “It’s a clever move on his part. Dangle the promise of freedom in front of them, ensure they fight harder than ever. And if they die? Well, he never has to make good on the promise.”
Lily frowned, pulling her knees up to her chest. “You think that’s all it is? A ploy?”
“What else would it be?” Remus asked, his voice edged with frustration. “You’ve lived under his roof as long as I have. Father doesn’t do anything unless it benefits him. Why would he free his most valuable fighters? They’re worth more to him in chains than with that sword.”
Lily was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the window. “You saw the way Sirius looked at him,” she said finally.
Remus nodded. “Like he wanted to plunge a dagger into his chest.”
“And James?”
“He hides it better, but it’s there.”
They both fell silent, the weight of the dinner lingering between them. The memory of Sirius’s sharp wit and James’s easy charm played in Remus’s mind, their words laced with a kind of freedom he couldn’t quite place.
“They’re not like anyone else who sits at that table,” Lily said softly, as though voicing Remus’s thoughts aloud.
“No,” he agreed. “They’re not.”
“They don’t grovel. They don’t flatter. They spoke to Father like…” She hesitated, searching for the right word.
“Like equals,” Remus finished for her.
Lily nodded. “That’s what made it so strange. They’re slaves, Remus. Why do they act like they have nothing to lose?”
“Maybe they don’t,” Remus said, though even as he said it, he wasn’t sure he believed it. There was something about Sirius and James—something defiant, even reckless—but it wasn’t the desperation of men who had given up. If anything, it was the opposite.
Lily picked at the hem of her tunic, her brow furrowed in thought. “Do you think they believe him? About the wooden sword?”
“I don’t know.” Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If they’re smart, they won’t. But then again, what choice do they have? It’s not like they can refuse to fight.”
“They could kill him,” Lily said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Remus’s head snapped up. “Lily.”
She shrugged, though there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “They could. Men like Sirius and James don’t seem the type to accept their fate quietly.”
“And what happens after that? They’d be executed on the spot. Maybe their handlers too, for good measure. It wouldn’t change anything.”
“It would be justice,” Lily said, her voice firm.
Remus looked at her, surprised by the steel in her tone. Lily rarely spoke with such conviction, especially about matters of power and politics.
“Justice,” he repeated quietly. He thought of the way Sirius’s smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes, the way James’s charm seemed to mask something sharper, darker. “Maybe. But justice doesn’t survive long in the arena.”
Lily sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I don’t understand them. How can they sit at that table, eat our food, and not spit in your Father’s face?”
Remus didn’t answer right away. He thought of the way Sirius had looked at their father, his malice barely concealed beneath a mask of civility. And James—charming, quick-witted James—who played the part of a loyal soldier so well it almost seemed real.
“They’re playing a game,” Remus said simply.
Lily tilted her head, curious. “What do you mean?”
“They know they’re slaves. They know Father holds their lives in his hands. But they’re not bowing. They’re not begging. They’re… watching.”
“Watching?”
Remus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Like they’re waiting for something. A moment. An opportunity.”
“Do you think they’ll take it?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t think they’ll fight forever, either. Not without a plan.”
Lily was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the flickering lamp. “If they win,” she said finally, “if your Father gives them the wooden sword… do you think they’ll leave?”
Remus leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling. “I don’t think it’s freedom they want,” he said slowly. “Not just freedom, anyway.”
“Then what?”
He met her gaze, his voice quiet but certain. “Revenge.”