omni

Tim looked tired when he returned from his private dinner with Ra’s, tension in the lines of his body.

Jason was on him the second he walked through the door. "What happened?"

Tim's distracted gaze wandered to Jason. "Just Ra's’ usual...creepiness."

Jason frowned. "You good?"

"Not really. I want to get out of here. Give it another day or so and I think we can start coming up with a plan. For now he's sending Fahad over with 'proper attire' for tonight's entertainment." He threw a look Jason's way. "He wants you there."

Bile rose in Jason's throat. "I can't."

Tim's face twisted in sympathy. "I know. I don't think we have much of a choice. We have to choose our battles right now."

Jason took a deep, slow breath to keep himself from spiraling too far. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. I said I could do what we needed to do, I guess. Fuck.” He ran both hands through his hair.

He could do this.

——

Jason didn’t get why the memories of the fighting pits bothered him so much. His whole life had been nothing but fighting. He went from fighting on the streets to fighting in a costume. It never stopped. Why should that experience be any different?

Ra’s had made sure Tim was wearing a “suitable” outfit for the night’s show. He’d dressed him in a red Kurdish kaftan. Elegant golden flourishes lined the edges of the outer silken robes. The silk shirt was a shining black, adorned with much more subtle golden and red flourishes and filigree and the golden harem pants were tucked into soft boots, the same deep red as the robes.

A gold medallion bib necklace was draped over his chest, topped with a golden collar that was lined with glittering green gems. The green stood out as somewhat out of place with the color scheme of the outfit, but that was clearly intentional. And possessive.

Jason had shuddered when he’d first seen it. He hadn’t quite understood how extensive Ra’s obsession with his little brother actually was until then.

“A bit over the top, isn’t it?” Jason asked, bumping shoulders with Tim as they walked and speaking low enough that only he and Tim could hear.

“Everything is with Ra’s,” Tim responded just as quietly. “This is the first time we’re being seen in public together here. He’s making a statement. He always gets what he wants.”

“A statement to his people, or you?”

“Both.”

Jason’s outfit was much, much plainer than Tim’s. He had been dressed in a similar thawb to the one Fahad had been wearing, though it was a higher quality cotton and a creamy white. The center front seam was lined with intricate golden embroidery, and brown leather boots peaked out beneath the bottom hem.

Ra's’ outfit was the same as usual—green robes trimmed with golden edges, a bright white shirt beneath it, a golden sash holding up silk green harem pants, and tall black boots. The only difference tonight was the addition of a lion skin cloak, the fur from the mane wrapped around his shoulders and held in place by bone clasps.

When they passed through a tall stone archway that led to a large courtyard, Jason was presented with a familiar scene that made his breath catch in his throat.

The fighting pits were just that—large circular pits recessed into the ground of one of the many grand courtyards that were found around the compound—though he supposed it could be considered more of an arena than a courtyard. There were three pits of varying sizes. One was littered with various obstacles, another with walls lined with inward facing spikes, and the last filled with a deep layer of thick muck. The walls of each pit were a dark red stone. Jason remembered the feeling of the rough stone against his bare back, scraping deep abrasions into his skin as he fought against the hold of another warrior.

Most of his memories of his time post-resurrection and pre-Pit were muddled and foggy, but the fighting pits were crystal clear in his mind.

The largest of the three was the obstacle pit, measuring maybe 60 or 70 yards in diameter. The smallest was the mud pit, barely larger than a boxing ring.

Mud clogging his nose and mouth; choking while trying to dodge the swipe of a sword. Slogging through knee-deep muck, not fast enough to block the blow to his abdomen, knocking what little breath he had out of him.

Coughing and gagging, trying to suck in air, but his vision was tunneling and he was on his knees waiting for the—

“No killing blows with this one, Tahir. Talia is keeping him as a pet for the time being.”

“Jay?” Tim’s hand was on his shoulder, voice low.

“I’m fine. Stop.” Jason spoke through his teeth, brushing Tim’s hand off.

He breathed deeply through his nose. Fresh air. No mud. He was fine.

There were no seats or benches surrounding the pits—most onlookers stood around them, but some of them were fortunate enough to be given the honor of sitting on the edge, dangling their feet over the side. Weakness was not tolerated among Ra’s’ ranks—not even from the servants—and anyone who was clumsy enough to fall into the pits deserved their fate and were allowed to be used as sacrifices to the warriors. Human shields, distractions, target practice. Whatever their chosen purpose was, their end was always the same.

The only comfortable viewing area was a raised, curved stone platform that oversaw all three pits with a perfect view. The chair atop the platform couldn’t quite be called a throne, but it was just a step beneath one, all shining dark wood, emerald velvet, and bone accents. Jason was almost certain that it was human bone.

Two high backed wooden chairs carved with symbols and designs Jason wasn’t familiar with sat abreast each side of the regal seat. His and Tim’s.

As they ascended the steps on the side of the platform Jason felt sick. The idea of being on the other side of the pits made his stomach churn. Most of the warriors who fought to the death here were willing participants...but some of them were not, and there was no way of knowing which was which. There was a good chance he would see an innocent person die here tonight.

It took all of his willpower not to turn heel and flee. He was dreading the sights and sounds that were to come.