10[A/N]: Hiii (: informing the world that I'm happy!
But enough about me, please enjoy the chapter. AND REVIEW AT THE END. Kthxbai.
Chapter Two: Run
Sic Semper Tyrannis
Days passed slowly and quietly in the commune now. There was no clash of metal, no sounds of fighting.
A damp chill had settled upon our town and it held until my birthday, when our first snowfall brought a little joy. Mother had put together a small celebration, and the entire commune was invited. Even under this heavy cloud of gloom, the men found their smiles and put on their best tunics. I was finally sixteen.
In New Rome, and maybe some of the richer towns, turning sixteen would earn me a lavish celebration with many gifts, and if I was high enough on the social ladder, it would last for days, and I would be presented to the upper class.
But here in the far northern Inner Provinces, we had much simpler celebrations. All that awaited me on this special night was a small dinner with a few gifts. Nothing too exciting, but I couldn't have asked for more.
The day began at dawn when my father woke me. Our only task all day was to make my gladius, the extension of my arm. We were finally making my sword. In reality, we had been working for weeks on it, but since the task was really only ceremonial, we would finish it that night, right before my feast.
The metal rod that was beginning to greatly resemble a sword turned bright red in the fire, and our hammers rang out loudly in the quiet morning. We were silent through the whole day, reveling in what might very well be my last day in my father's house. At the age of sixteen, every child, male or female, was considered an adult and was eligible to be sent to either work in another town or allowed to stay in their own town. Most likely I would stay, but if another town was lacking in gladiators, I had to go.
But I tried not to think about leaving as my father and I hammered away at my gladius. Let those foul thoughts wait for the morning. Right now I focused solely on the task at hand. A gladius is a right of passage in New Rome. Every man has one, but only gladiators or legionaries would ever have a real use for them. Even so, they are seldom used in actual combat. A man's gladius is sacred.
I slipped the glowing metal into cold water for a final time, and steam rose up around us, warming the frigid air. I held it up to the light, examining it closely. The blade was finally done. I carefully fitted the simple handle onto the end of the sword and my father took it from me, weighing it in his hands, before gingerly giving it back.
My gladius was complete.
My father smiled proudly at me and said, "Hadrian... my oldest son. You have been a blessing since the day you saved your mother's life, and you keep bringing us joy every single day." My father raised his glass of wine and nodded at me. "Always remember who you were named for."
All the men drank to my health, and as tradition called for, drank to Julius who would follow me. In these good times, even Julius and Claudia were also allowed a small cup of wine, and though Julius drank his in about two gulps, Claudia slowly sipped at hers, savoring the taste. I was allowed as many glasses as I could hold, but I tried to drink as few as possible. Wine was hard to come by in the commune, and I wanted to make sure that there was more than enough to go around.
The whole party greatly surpassed my expectations, much to my surprise. Mother had combed her blonde hair up into a loose bun and as the night progressed, strands of it fell out into small curls. And with the way the firelight danced off her blue eyes, it was easy to see why my father had fallen in love with her. Claudia looked very much like her, down to the slight greenish tint to her light blue eyes. It really was a shame that she couldn't marry. She was already beautiful.
Julius also looked quite like Mother, with his sandy hair and wide eyes. But instead of the blue color that Claudia and I held, his eyes were a rich chocolate brown, the mirror image of our father's. But the resemblance stopped there. Julius and Claudia didn't have the look of the Empire about them. They looked like Mother, like they were from the Outer Provinces of even farther north. I, despite my sandy hair and blue eyes, looked too much like my father, a real Roman, to ever be considered from the Provinces.
My hands found the glass of wine blindly and I took a large gulp. It was warm and tingled on the way down, filling my mouth with the rich taste. I savored it, craving more. Alexander spotted me staring at the empty cup and grabbed a bottle, filling my cup back to the top.
"I don't want to drink all of the wine," I said under my breath, but Alexander merely laughed.
"Hadrian, it's your birthday! Drink the wine," he said loudly and poured himself another cup as well.
I sipped on this glass for quite a while, trying my best to enjoy it slowly, and I was barely half way through when Father called for attention. It was time to present me with my gladius.
I could see his hands trembling as he held it up above me. But when I took it, I made sure to keep my hands still and even, showing no hesitation. In just these simple moments, I had become a man.
All the men had pooled together to get me my own leather armor, fit for the arena. Claudia and my mother had made me a new cloak and Julius had fashioned a small pin to go along with it. But the best gift was from my father, who came last, with a small package wrapped in brown paper. I carefully tore it open and gaped at what sat in my lap.
My father had given me his corona aurea, the one thing he had brought with him from his centurion days. It was presented to him by Emperor Thaddeus himself after my father's legion had won a particularly lengthy battle. It was quite an honor to be awarded with this, the golden crown. I knew he cherished it more than any other possession.
But he just smiled slightly at me as the small crowd around me grew hushed at the sight of my father's crown, or rather, my crown now.
"Hadrian," my father began, and patted my back. "I have said far too many words tonight, but as your father, I must say these: I love you."
I couldn't help it, I stood up suddenly and threw my arms around him, something I hadn't done in years. He seemed a bit shocked at first, but quickly returned the hug. He was warm and still smelled of dirt and leather, the same as when I was a child.
The rest of the party passed quickly, as it was getting late and the men needed their rest. The only thing that could damper the celebratory mood was the horror that would begin in the morning.
The Local Munera began tomorrow.
Father still hadn't told Julius and Claudia about the new rule, and in reality, he hadn't told me either. But I knew and he was well aware.
It scared me, terrified me, that very soon my father would be pitted against his best friends, forced to kill them. Or be killed by them. That morning the whole place was tense. The men spoke in soft whispers and didn't sharpen swords. The commune was eerily silent.
The first match was to be held at noon, and the Colosseum was quickly filled to the brim with townspeople hungry for blood. My father turned to us, our family huddled in the gladiators' quarters, and pulled us close.
"I love you all," he whispered softly. "If I do not come back—"
"What do you mean if you don't come back?" Julius asked, interrupting Father abruptly.
His eyes were sad as he placed a hand on Julius's shoulder. "This Munera is different, more like the games in New Rome. But that's not important anymore. What's important is that you all remember what I've taught you."
Julius's face was suddenly blank, but Claudia's was horror stricken. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and fell onto the dirt beneath our feet. "Father..." she whispered. "Do you really have to—?" Her voice cracked and I pulled her into an embrace just as she began sobbing. I stroked her golden hair and wiped the tears from her face.
"You taught us to always be strong," I said, still cradling Claudia.
Mother grasped Father's shoulders suddenly and looked steadily at him. I would have expected her to be crying as well, but her eyes were fierce. "You don't have to do this," she said boldly.
Father smiled and kissed her softly. "I know," he whispered. A sudden thought must have occurred to him because his head snapped towards us. "Augusta, please take the children home. I don't want them to see this." There was that centurion voice, thinly veiled by a soft tone.
Mother nodded shortly and grasped Julius's and Claudia's hands, pulling them towards our house. I turned to follow, but my father held fast onto my arm. "Hadrian, please never let them go," he whispered urgently. "Take care of them. And whatever you do, do not let my brother have them."
I nodded, shocked by the whole situation, my father's death sentence, my mother's calmness, and this new command. Why would we have to worry about this uncle if Mother would still be here? None of it made sense.
But of course I had to ask the most obvious, and most pointless, question. "You have a brother?"
My father laughed slightly and pulled me into an embrace. "There was once, in the days of Old Rome, an emperor named Hadrian. He built a wall that marked the northernmost borders of the vastest empire in history." He paused to look at me and smiled. "This man, Hadrian, was known as one of the five Good Emperors of Rome. He was cultured, well traveled, won many battles, and conquered many lands."
My eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.
And then the announcer called out, loud and clear, "Welcome to the Local Munera! The first fight today will be between Marcus Aurelius and Brutus Maximus!"
My father turned to me, eyes blazing, and pulled me into a tight embrace. "My little Hadrian, bring back what Rome was," he whispered.
And just like that, my father, the brave Marcus Aurelius, walked into the sandy Colosseum without turning back. I could hear the shouts of the people above in the stands, practically begging for my father's blood. And then I heard another voice screaming, full of agony and pain, like someone was wrenching his heart out with their bare hands. My knees hit the dirt and I gasped for air as my screaming stopped. But when I fell over onto my side, the sobbing took its place.
I closed my eyes and imagined, just for a moment, that this was all a dream, all a rouse, that my father would come running back in laughing, telling me it was just a joke. But I was pulled back into harsh reality but someone hoisting me to my feet and pushing me away. I stumbled and turned to face the offender. Alexander stood just steps away from me.
"Go," he whispered. But when I didn't move, or even say a word, he stepped towards me. "Run!" he screamed. "Run, Hadrian!"
His urgency scared me and I began stumbling backwards, and then took off at a sprint. I passed my home and the gates of the commune. The town was almost empty; everyone was busy watching my father die. I kept running until I hit the woods. My lungs were on fire but I hardly noticed. I just kept running.
But eventually my legs gave out from under me and I fell to my knees. I could hardly breathe, and my sobbing sounded more like choking as my lungs tried to scream once more.
"You should probably get back home, you know," a voice said from behind me. I was too broken and exhausted to muster the strength to turn around but I tried to quiet my cries.
"Who..." my voice wouldn't form words.
Footsteps in the leaves approached me and I could hear her breath as she knelt beside me. "There's a Senator in town," she whispered. "They say his name is Titus Aurelius."
I tried to push myself up out of the dirty leaves and melting snow, but my arms could barely support me. The girl pulled me over to a tree and propped me up. I could finally see her face.
"I know you," I said softly, shocked to find those familiar green eyes staring at me.
She looked a bit surprised too, but quickly contained it. "You should probably be getting back home," she repeated.
"Why?" I asked, my voice rough and hoarse.
She pulled me to my feet and did her best to support some of my weight with her shoulders. "Because," she said again, "there's a Senator in town. And he seems quite interested in your family, namely your brother and sister."
Titus Aurelius... that name... my name, Aurelius. My father's brother.
A small choking sound escaped my mouth and I was off running again, sprinting back home. I could hear the girl behind me, trying to keep pace with me, but she struggled. "Hadrian!" she screamed, making futile attempts to grab my shoulder.
But I just kept running and eventually she fell so far behind that I couldn't even hear her footsteps anymore. In their place were more familiar sounds, the sounds even a town occupied with blood makes.
I was back into the gates and around the corridors, finally stopping at our house, bursting in, and finding silence.
"Julius!" I screamed. "Claudia!"
But no answer.
My legs threatened to give out again but I refused to fall useless. I was out and into the commune, headed towards the Colosseum. And then it hit me, just how quiet the place was.
Footsteps echoed behind me and the girl's breathless voice said, "They're in the Forum."
This time, she kept up well enough. And when we reached the Forum, I suddenly realized where all the noise had gone. The people were screaming, still crying out for blood. A man dressed in a white toga with purple borders stood on the steps of one of the temples, above the raging crowd. With just a raised hand, he silenced them.
"Do not fret over these prisoners. Soon we will have a whole new shipment of gladiators to replace these!" he announced and the crowd reacted just the way he had hoped— with excitement.
I moved around through the throngs of people, the girl still trailing me, and tried my best to remain unnoticed. At this distance, I recognized the man. He was the Imperial Official assigned to this town, Cornelius Agrippa. He was a particularly nasty little man, greedy without remorse and unnaturally cruel to all who weren't within or above his social ranking. Rumor had it that he had once been in the favor of Emperor Thaddeus, but after a few scandals involving the emperor's favorite mistress and a couple million missing sesterces, he was banished to the last of the Inner Provinces. And if he didn't watch his step, the frozen Outer Provinces of Britannia were not far. He was just one stolen silver coin away.
Cornelius smiled brightly at the crowd, holding up his arm, pointing to something. That's when I noticed them, all the men plus one, lined up against the walls of the temple. "These traitors have rebelled against the Empire in their refusal to fight! So let us show them how the Empire treats traitors!"
The crowd exploded with agreement, and Cornelius grabbed one of the men. It was Alexander, so young and naive. But he didn't look young anymore. He was covered in sand and blood, hands shackled behind his back, but still he held his head high. With a flick of his wrist, Cornelius pushed him into the crowd, and he was consumed by angry shouts and fists.
I cried out and lurched towards him, but the girl held me back. "You'll get trampled to death!" she shouted as she struggled to keep a firm grip.
But what finally sedated me was not the girl's hands, but the next two prisoners. My father and mother stood proudly before the crowd, looking beyond us into the sky. Cornelius gripped their arms tightly and shook them harshly. "This man, Marcus Aurelius, and his wife, Augusta, are the rebel leaders! I have orders from Senator Titus Aurelius himself to publicly crucify them."
I found myself slipping onto the ground, but the girl caught me. The crowd roared around us in approval and she began pulling me back, but when Cornelius again called for silence, I screamed, screamed so loud I could hardly hear myself. It was that same scream that shook my body earlier, gut wrenchingly painful.
The hush that had settled over the crowd was broken by whispers.
"The boy!"
"His son!"
"The same face..."
When my voice finally gave out, I found myself staring at my father, my chest heaving. I sank to my knees and gasped for air, but kept my gaze locked.
"Run," he mouthed, but I didn't move. "Run!" he finally shouted desperately. "Hadrian run, please run!" But I stayed firmly where I was.
"I won't leave you," I said, lurching to my feet and through the parting crowd. But before I could reach my parents, a rough hand seized me and pulled me back. It was a legionary. He drew his sword and held it against my throat.
"What shall I do with the boy?" he asked, addressing Cornelius.
The evil little man's face broke into a cruel smile and I closed my eyes, waiting to feel the cold steel slicing into my skin. But instead, I heard him say, "Let him live. He is sixteen after all. Perhaps he shall make an acceptable gladiator."
My father's head fell and I saw his tears hitting the marble beneath him. I broke the legionary's grasp and rushed towards my parents.
My father looked at me and smiled weakly. "I am so sorry for this life I have forced upon you. Stay strong, Hadrian."
My mother leaned her head against my shoulder and placed a light kiss on my cheek. "I love you," she whispered.
I didn't even have time to respond before we were pulled apart. But just before a gag was put over my father's mouth, he shouted, "Bring Rome back, Hadrian, bring back the glory!"
I didn't see the girl again before they threw me into a cold cell.
I don't know how many days passed; I lost track. All I knew was that on the second day of my imprisonment, from the only tiny window in my cell, I could see the hill upon which my parents were crucified. I didn't even have the strength to scream anymore, I just hoped my silent tears would drown me. After that day, I stopped counting how many sunsets I saw.
Until finally, one particularly cold night, someone threw a blanket between the bars of my cell. I had been huddled in the corner, trying to keep warm. I cautiously inched towards the blanket, like a wild animal approaching a trap.
And then the first words that had been spoken to me since my father's echoed through the cell. "Hadrian," the girl whispered, throwing her hood back.
I grasped her cloak, pulling her up against the bars. "Where are my brother and sister?" I demanded. Her green eyes went from sympathetic to scared and I let go, pushing farther back into the cell. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
It was her hands that found my shirt this time and pulled me closer. "With the Senator, Titus Aurelius. They left for New Rome three days ago. He claimed to be your father's brother."
My heart sank. I had failed my father and allowed Julius and Claudia to fall into my uncle's hands. I sank down to the ground and looked up at the girl. She quickly joined me, gazing at me through the bars, brows knitted in thought.
"Who are you?" I asked. I had seen her around town before, but never spoke with her. She always wore a long white toga, the dress of the upper class. She was wearing one now, with her dark hair pulled up in a loose bun, just like my mother's once was.
She looked away. "You will hate me if I tell you," she whispered.
My hand reached out to touch her, to reassure her, but she drew back hesitantly. "Why?"
She sighed and pulled her cloak tighter around her body. After a long moment, she met my eyes again. "My name is Sutton Agrippa," she said, holding my gaze.
Agrippa... impossible! She looked nothing like little bald Cornelius with his beady eyes and cruel snarl. But when I looked closely, I noticed her features were distinctly those of the Empire. High cheek bones, dark hair, olive skin. The only thing Provincial about her were those green irises.
She broke my gaze and stood up. "I told you that you would hate me," she said softly and turned to leave, but I grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around.
"Sutton," I said carefully, enunciating every syllable. "I don't hate you."
She stared at me sadly and said, "I'm so sorry, Hadrian. My father won't ever listen to a word I say. I begged him to spare your parents and the others, begged. But he refused." Tears were building up in her eyes and I wiped them away with my thumb.
"It wasn't your fault," I said shakily, because my eyes were threatening to spill over too. I couldn't blame her for the death of my parents just because of her father. "Why did you come?" I asked softly.
She pulled away from my hand and steadied her voice. "I wanted to tell you my plan." She paused in thought for a moment before continuing. "What your father said, you know, about bringing Rome back. That really got me thinking. Hadrian, I want you to compete in the Local Munera and win. Go to New Rome and show them what your father wanted. Make them remember."
I just stared at her, astounded by this idea. There was no away I could win the Local Munera. I had planned on dying within the first round. But suddenly the idea began to stick and hope seized my heart.
Sutton quickly backtracked, taking my silence for rejection. "But of course, you don't have to. I just thought... you know, since all fights are to the death now... and you dying would be... oh, never mind," she said and backed even further away.
"No!" I said, shocking her. "I think... I think it could work."
A small smile crept onto her face, and for the first time since I had known her, her eyes lit up. "Then you better get training, gladiator."
[A/N]: Yeah, I went there.
I really, really loved Hadrian's parents, and especially Alexander, even if he wasn't a major character at all, but some things are just essential to the plot, you know.
Anyway, please please please drop a review and let me know how you like it. Or hate it, if that's the case. I do love reviews.
Thanks for reading, y'all.
Regards,
Camille Elisabeth