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Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus Blood and Sand. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Further Disclaimer: No surprise to people that have seen the Spartacus show, but there will be a ‘lot’ of sex, violence, and blood. In regards to the sex… slavery is a big thing in this world so consent is going to be a bit dubious at times for some of these characters. Sorry, but I am writing for the world and shit happens. 

-I will note that writing sex scenes is not my forte so I’m going to be using this as something of a platform to try and improve on that. Please be merciful with critiques in that regard as again, I am still learning and growing as a writer. 

Note: This idea came to me on my latest rewatch of Spartacus Blood and Sand. As in all my favorite properties, I started to wonder what would happen if Harry Potter showed up there. I’m honestly surprised there aren’t more of these stories posted yet as I’ve only found a few.

(Before you ask, this will be a straight pairing for Harry and it is likely to be multi-partner in nature. I only make that note because most of the crossover’s I’ve seen for this show have gone the other way.)

Note: Gonna be a bit different from my normal style in that Harry isn’t gonna be super powerful magically. It’s a bit of a spoiler but he loses his wand early on and has to relearn certain things the hard way. Mwahahahahaha. 

Note: This tale starts in the prequel season of the series, but it will lead into the main story eventually. 

Note: I will try to keep what speech patterns from the show I can, but please understand that I am not the writer the men who wrote those scripts were. I merely have the skill that I teach myself. 

Note: Yes I’m using the Department of Mysteries as my method of transport again. What can I say, it’s the perfect universal mcguffin. 

Chapter One - Welcome to the Roman World 

‘Well ,” Harry thought sarcastically as he heaved another boulder onto a cart, ‘this is just a lovely turn of events isn’t it? ’ All around him men toiled at their task, moving heavy objects, pulling carts already filled, all so the path to the other side of the shore was clear so the loading of ships at the dock could begin. All around him his fellow slaves kept their eyes down and went about their work as members of a fucking Roman legion stared down on them from on high to make sure no one caused trouble. They were newly captured after all and the empire wanted to make sure their financial investments stayed where they were. 

‘I’m pretty sure talking to myself like this isn’t a sign of good mental health, but there isn’t a hell of a lot of good conversational partners at present so I might as well keep at it.’ he grumbled within his mind. ‘If I had my wand I could get out of here in an instant, but ‘no’, Death wouldn’t let me keep that.’

On that note, Harry found himself thinking back to the events that brought him to this hellhole. It had been the fight in the Department of Mysteries. He and his friends had gone out to rescue his godfather and surprise, surprise, it had all been a trap. The death eaters were waiting, the Order was unusually absent, (Either Dumbledore was idiotic enough to only have posted one guard that could easily be overpowered or he was up to something shady) and his fellow students were hopelessly outmatched. There had only been one choice, they ran. Through the halls they flew, dodging spellfire and falling debris, and all the while Harry watched his friends begin to fall to the destruction. Neville was knocked out by a falling orb. Ron ran into a door post and was summoned back screaming toward the following dark wizards, and Hermione…. She was hit with an Avada Kedavra right before his eyes. She was running ahead of him and to the right until the sickly green light struck her back, and when she fell only a blank glaze came from her eyes, leaving none of her beautiful intelligence behind. 

There wasn’t time to mourn however, nor was there any chance to make those fuckers pay for taking the girl he’d loved since he was twelve from him. All he could do was run and run until finally he reached a chamber with a large door and he slammed it closed with a latch snap. By then only Luna was still with him, and she was standing on a raised dais, examining an archway with a strange see-through curtain blowing in a non-existent breeze. 

“Harry?” her head was twitching slightly, as if she were listening to something only she could hear.”

“Yeah?” He huffed out as he made his way up to her, casting his wary gaze around the room and ceiling. Those death eater’s could come from anywhere he knew. 

“I think we were meant to die here. That prophecy, it said neither you nor Voldemort could live while the other survived.”

“What are you saying Luna? The death eaters didn’t know the prophecy.”

“No, but Dumbledore did. The plaque said this prophecy was made for him.” 

Harry’s heart grew cold at that piece of information, and with a groan of anguish he knew it to be true. So many things began to fall into place. How no help ever came for his life with the Dursleys, how no capable defense against the dark arts professor was ever really hired to teach at the school (Lupin was out for days at a time each month so he too sucked, fight me), how every time he went to a professor with a problem no aid was sent. It was a good thing he’d been working on his occlumency with the books Hermione had given him because otherwise his emotional dissonance from this revelation would have sent him staggering. “I think you might be right.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s not your fault. You just figured it out first.”

“Not about that. These people are here to kill you and there is no way out of this room. If Dumbledore really wants you dead then he won’t come to help or send anyone to do so either. But I know that you need to survive, and not because a prophecy says so, but because you’re my friend, and you deserve a life that is your own. This portal seems to know it too. Staying here means your death for sure but if you leave there is a chance….”

“Luna?” He turned to look at the girl only to suddenly feel a full body shove sending him stumbling backward over the threshold of the foreboding arch. The last thing he experienced of his own time was the snap of sudden apparition followed by Luna’s face bathed in a sickly green light. As the world faded from view he knew he’d just seen his friend’s last moment. 

Harry wasn’t sure how long he fell in that endless abyss. It could have been days, it could have been weeks, hell it could have been years. Funny how things as abysmal as time seemed to slip your mind in a void. But eventually his momentum halted and he found himself suspended in the air. The young man still could not see anything, but there was a distinct ‘feeling’ of something ‘else’ all around him. 

“You are not dead.” Its voice was a scraping hiss in the night. 

Swallowing his fear and delving into his gryffindor courage, Harry answered, “No, I am not.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“I was given no other choice.”

Silence reigned for a moment before that horrible voice came back, this time tinged with something that sounded more than a bit like curiosity. “Strange… you are telling the truth. I’ve not had one such as you enter my realm in eons.”

“Well if you let me, I’d happily walk on out of here too.” 

“In time, Child of Change. There is something I desire from you first.” 

The next thing Harry knew was agony as he felt his famous scar ripped open on his scalp, followed by the scraping of bony fingers searing across his skull while reaching in and pulling something out. The wizard was not ashamed to admit he screamed at that moment. Who wouldn’t? But as soon as it had started, the agony ended, and the unknown entity cooed delightedly off in the darkness. 

“Ah, yes. This little soul has eluded me for quite some time now, and with luck it will lead me to its friends.”

“H-H-Happy to be so helpful.” Harry wheezed, not sure what exactly had happened but more than willing to say what was necessary to get out of this. 

“Indeed, you were invaluable, which leaves me at a loss. Ancient laws written in stone at the dawn of time must be observed, and one good turn deserves another. I cannot return you to your time, nor do I have control of where you will end up, but I will bestow upon you three gifts for what you have provided me.”

Harry’s body suddenly locked in place and he felt those same bone-like fingers pressing into his forehead, but mercifully this time they did not rip and tear. “First, you shall have the gift of tongues. Not a language has existed or will that you will be unable to speak and understand. Second, legilimency. I cannot make you a master, but I can grant you the natural skill to eventually become so. It is up to you to learn how to wield it. Third, this world is a dangerous place in all of its ages. I grant you the gift of advanced recovery. Understand that this will not make you immortal by any means, but wounds that would take months to heal will be seen to fade within days. Now go, our time is done and you’ve already tarried here too long.”  

There were so many questions Harry wanted to ask about that, but the next thing he knew he was plummeting down once more before suddenly landing with a crunch on solid green earth. Groaning softly, and literally feeling the musculature in his left leg shift back into place, he looked around and noticed several things that were strange. First, he was sitting alone amidst a pile of bodies. Second, a nearby town was on fire. Third…. A group of men dressed, weirdly enough, like Roman cosplayers were making their way right to him. 

So it was that Harry had found himself captured and eventually enslaved by the Roman empire. It turned out that the village had been an outlier in Gaul that had refused to pay Rome’s taxes and had been made an example of. There were some questions Harry heard about why a Briton was in Gaul to begin with, but no one had pressed him directly about it. The former wizard was just one of hundreds that had been chained in that mess, and without his wand at the moment he really was a ‘former’ wizard. Harry knew wandless magic was possible, and of course there was his supposed gift of legilimency, but he had a strange feeling that both would prove very time concerning to learn. 

Thus it was a strangely fortuitous thing as a slave that all he really had was time to devote his mental faculties to that task. He worked all day doing meaningless tasks that left his mental state wide open to magical training. (infinitely more so considering time in his mind palace seemed to move at a fraction of the real world's pace). But the path they were working on mending was steadily getting cleared and soon enough the army would march again, loading all of their new slaves up on the freed sea crafts to be shipped off to who knew where. 

As he continued his toil, Harry was suddenly broken from his internal musings on his abilities by an outbreak of noise, shouts, and grunts of pain. He turned to the source and beheld a man, perhaps five or six years his senior, on the ground and being kicked by four others; a fifth was off to the side eating a bowl of gruel that had no doubt been the first man’s meal. 

He should let it go, Harry knew that. Years of experience with the Dursleys had taught him that sticking your neck out for others rarely ended well. But that damned gryffindor instinct took off and he started running before he could stop himself. The first man didn’t even see him before his knee was buried in his kidney, dropping him to the ground. The second got a punch to the throat that knocked him down, the third a kick to the groin, and the fourth… the fourth actually managed to get a few shots off, each of which Harry ducked or dodged, before the wizard stepped into his guard and nailed the man in the chin with an uppercut that sent him sprawling. 

All in all, taking these four down hadn’t even taken thirty seconds, and the last man with the bowl was practically shaking in his boots. Typical bully, he had no idea how to handle any situation in which he didn’t have the numerical advantage. Harry reached out a hand slowly, his message clear, and the stranger quickly passed over the bowl before scampering off. A quick look around revealed that this disturbance had not brought the guards down on him. Sure, a few were looking his way, but they made no move to interfere. Of course to them this probably just seemed like a light scuffle between slaves, but the work was still getting done, and no one was dead, so why waste the energy of moving in themselves to actually do anything?

With the realization that he was in the clear, Harry sat down beside the downed man, who was slowly getting to his knees, and passed back the bowl. “Here. If we’re going to survive all of this we’ll need all the food and sustenance we can get. You can’t afford to keep letting others take it from you.”

“Much thanks.” The man took the bowl and began shoveling the gruel into his mouth with his fingers. Clearly his own exertions had left him starved, and though he was roughly of a height with Harry, he was also full of heavy muscle. When he was finally finished he asked, “Why do this thing for me? Risk angering these men and the guards? You are not kin, not clan, nor do you even know me.”

The wizard ran a slow hand through his hair before answering. “I honestly don’t know. I guess… I’ve been the downed man before, and it always bugged me that no one stepped in. I could help you, so I did. Simple as that. Plus, if guys like that get to do what they want people like us always end up suffering later.”

“Hm. Again, much thanks. What is your name?”

“Harry.”

“I am called, Crixus.” 

Harry smiled at the introduction and clasped forearms with the man. “It’s nice to meet you, Crixus.”

“And I am pleased to have met you, even if you speak funny. I swear to repay what you have done for me this day.”

“There is really no need.”

“We shall see. For now, move feet back to your rocks and my own shall follow. I will aid in your task as mine is finished.” 

“I’d appreciate it.” 

It took the rest of the day to finish moving enough rock for the carts to make it to the ships cargo holds, and just as Crixus had predicted, he was able to repay Harry’s kindness. The next day in fact. At breakfast that same man that had stolen the Gaul’s gruel arrived with six men at his back. He spoke some drivel about showing everyone who was really the most dangerous man in the camp (guy seemed to have some weird idea that being top slave was important) but neither Harry nor Crixus felt like letting him prattle on. Before he’d even finished his monologue the two were lunging for the group. 

Harry took the leader in the solar plexus with a right cross and Crixus tackled one man to the ground with enough force to send a second with him with his momentum. At the same time Harry was doing great damage with his close work. He kept his fists high, ducking in, weaving between blows, and punishing two others with body shots that left them gasping for air. The last man tried to get around behind him, but the Briton saw him out of the corner of his eye and stepped to the side just in time to dodge his grab and push his body into another man, sending them both to the ground where Crixus was waiting, having already dispatched his own opponents to the land of blissful unconsciousness. It seemed he was quite the wrestler. 

The final man saw this and with a roar he charged the lone Briton, weathered his blows, and latched onto his middle, driving him to the ground. He tried to grapple and wind an arm up to Harry’s neck, but the wizard had experienced such things before and was in no hurry to do so again. Instead, he latched onto that arm, spun his body to leverage his whole weight against it and jerked in place. The other man screamed bloody murder as his shoulder popped from the socket, and eventually fell into a pain filled stupor as his body went into shock. 

The makeshift cafeteria fell silent as all present laid witness to the two gasping men rising to their feet over the fallen forms of six others. Then the whistles started and they all fell to the ground to avoid attracting attention from the twenty soldiers that came rushing in. As he was pushed to his knees, chained, and carried away, Harry should have figured something like this would happen. The other day he’d been relatively isolated, and no one else was really affected by the fight, so no one had cared when a few slaves got into a scuffle. Now though, breakfast had been disturbed, six men were down, and it was a mess for everyone.

Some time later as the ship began to get under way, Harry and Crixus found themselves chained back-to-back in the ship’s hold. The guards had apparently decided that a little isolation would do them well. As with all instances of sheer boredom, conversation followed. 

“Thanks for having my back, Crixus. You were a big help.”

“I promised that I would. Of course I was helpful, a Gaul is a good thing to have in a fight. We learn from our fathers. One wonders where you learned to fight like that? Rarely have I seen one man best that many at once; and twice at that.”

Harry didn’t answer for a time, merely feeling the creak and rock of the hull beneath him. Finally he said, “I have not always been a slave, but for a time I was probably the next best thing. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and their son was a terror to behold. One day, when I was eight, he and a friend of his decided they wanted to beat me up. They’d done it before of course but this time it was looking like it would be really bad. I honestly thought they were going to kill me, so for the first time ever I fought back… and I won. I put my cousin and his friend on the ground.”

“When we got back to the house I thought my uncle would be angry about what happened, he always looked for reasons to punish me after all. I should have known something was wrong when all he did at the news of my outburst was smile.” 

Behind his back, Harry’s fingers tightened into fists, an action that Crixus felt through their bound limbs. “There were places in Britain. Places where certain types of men liked to watch and bet on kids beating the shit out of each other. My uncle threw me into that mess, probably hoping that I’d make him a bit of money and then just die. That year, the two after, and every summer following those he threw me into the ring again, and again, and again; but instead of dying I learned something very important in that hellhole.” 

“Give voice to your thoughts and tell me.” Crixus spoke. 

“I learned that I’m good with my fists. I survived those fights, more than that, I dominated them. I broke more jaws than anyone else there and rightfully earned my reputation. Even still, I always wanted to get away from there. Now I have…. It’s almost funny how cruel fate is sometimes.”

“This is something my people understand well.” Crixus agreed, before voicing something that he sounded like he’d been thinking on for a while. “We fight well together. Perhaps, wherever we end up, we keep each other alive?” 

In spite of his current circumstances, Harry smiled. “It’s always good to have a friend when the shit hits the fan.”

“What does that mean?”

“An expression from my homeland. It means I’d be glad to fight beside you again, friend.”

A clearly pleased Crixus answered, “Agreed… friend.” 

Four Years Later - Capua

Quintus Batiatus groaned as he left the current games grounds with his closest friend in tow. “Damn it, Selonius, my men are done in the rankings and it’s not even noon! Between the two of us we’ve the best gladiators in Capua but we are denied the best matches in the afternoons!” 

“Give it time,” Selonius, his older and more wizened friend noted, “the new stadium is being built right now, and with a bigger audience more reward and chance to display our wares will present itself.”

“It would present itself in the grand ceremony or the primus if we could but gain a patron’s eye.” Batiatus noted. “We must force an advantage before opportunity slips from our grasp entirely.”

Selonius shook his head at that, his eyes locked on the slowly forming frame of the stadium ahead. “No, we must be patient. An act your father would counsel as well. He would venture slowly with respect and caution. We could write to him in Sicilia and ask his advice?”

“No, it is good he is not present as I can already divine the contents of his reply. He would deny any act above a ‘simple lanista.’ It is why he never rose above his humble station, and why I will. Fuck patience!” 

“You have thought to put to this measure?” 

“Yes, Tullius. He is but a merchant, but his purse is grand as is his reach. Even to the magistrate does his counsel and will extend.”

“A high goal to be sure, my friend.”

“Indeed, and why not? Tullius only now knows the subpar gladiatorial wares of that smug little piss Vettius. If he were to see the masterpieces we can offer such as Gannicus, Acadeus, Barca, he would remove patronage from that smug shite and grant it to we more worthy beneficiaries.” 

All further conversation was halted then as the sound of a scuffle came from the stoneyard ahead. A place owned by Tullius himself and known to be supplying the building materials for the new stadium. A muscular man of medium height, clearly a Gaul, was deep in a brawl with a bigger stone carver. 

“Perhaps, good Tullius should not have traveled so far in acquiring his slaves. That Gaul is certainly troublesome.” 

“No,” Batiatus noted, “The overseer is simply an idiot. What fool puts a Gaul and a Thracian in the same work detail?” Sensing opportunity at this outburst, the lanista was about to intercede when something miraculous happened. A third man flew into the fight from the side of the yard like a bird of prey, throwing his body into the bigger man enough to push him out of his grapple before coming back to the Gaul’s side. Together they faced off against the taller foe as fists and legs began to fly, and oh did they fly. 

Years of training to spot talent flew through Batiatus’s eyes as he beheld the two men and at once that inkling of opportunity became certainty. As the big man fell to the ground from a kick to the knee via one man, and a punch to the jaw by the other, he ran forward as the overseer cracked down with his guards, ordering the two to be put in chains. 

“Halt!” Batiatus ran forward, catching the overseer’s attention. “Are these two of good Tullius’s slaves?”

“They are.”

“I would make purchase.” 

“Purchase?” Selonius demanded. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me, brother.” Looking back to the overseer he asked, “How much is their combined worth?”

“They are labor, not for sale.”

“Fifty denari.” The lanista offered, easily worth three times the duo’s market value.

Everyone present stared stupidly at that offer, including the slaves. “The Briton is perhaps worth twenty, but the shit Gaul? He’s barely worth ten denari. Why pay so much for so little reward?” 

“Little?” Batiatus scoffed. “Do you not see the promise in his eyes, the spark smoldering in his chest? This man is a champion waiting to be unleashed.” Turning his gaze to the slimmer man he noted something else as well. “And this man here… there is a beast inside him as clear as day if you know what to look for. I would give Capua the gift of these men in the arena.”

The overseer thought it over for a moment but could see no fault in this deal. He could give Tullius the market price for these slaves plus ten denari more to earn good favor while pocketing the rest himself. “Done, fifty denari and they are yours.”

“Excellent.” Quintus looked to his friend, “Selonius, lend me twenty.”

As he reached into his purse to pull out the requested coins, the older man noted, “You pay too much for shit men.”

“The men are nothing, my friend, this is to endear me to good Tullius. I take two troublesome slaves off his hands, give him a profit, and my name becomes known to him.” Quickly marching back to the overseer once more he handed over the money. 

“You are a fool to buy these piss stains.”

Batiatus smiled good-naturedly at the man and stated, “Piss stains now, sure, but given the right training and incentive any man can rise above his station to become a god of the arena. Just wait and see.” 

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or the Spartacus TV series. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Chapter Two - “What is beneath your feet?” “Sacred ground.”

It was night by the time Harry and Gannicus found themselves dumped in the cell beneath the Battiatus Ludus. It was held beneath a large villa on the edge of Capua. To their surprise, three Syrians were also present, seated against the other wall. “Well, new members.” The shortest of the three noted, staring at the dirt and stone dust covered duo. “Welcome to the Ludus.”

“Ludus?” The thinner man questioned. 

“A training ground for gladiators.” The Syrian answered simply. “Here we are forged into gods to please the crowd. It is harrowing though.” He gestured to his fellows, “We started with eight. Now we are but three.”

“Huff.” Crixus barked, “Now we are five. My brother and I will be gladiators in truth. I am called Crixus. He is Harry.” 

“I am Asher. Your… brother? He does not speak for himself?”

“I do.” Harry answered. “I just didn’t feel like it yet. Gladiator’s eh?” 

With a smile, the wizard turned his head to look at his friend and brother of four years in hell, and with a force of conscious effort willed his words into the Gaulic language. “History speaks well of gladiators Crixus. They are supplied with wine, women, acclaim, and many even gain wealth or freedom. This could be our path to breaking our chains after all this time.”  

Answering in kind, Crixus added, “I too have heard these things. Hence my excitement. Fate finally shines on us, Harry.”  

Watching the interplay, Asher couldn’t help noting it was a lot less amusing when others spoke in words he could not understand for once. “I recommend sleep. Training starts at dawn and you will want your rest.”

The Syrian’s words proved prophetic as the next day all of them were roused from their cell and bustled out to the sand of the training yard. They were made to line up for inspection at positions of attention. Each was naked save for the bare necessities of decency. The three Syrians all wore the common groin wraps of the men Harry had seen in the other cells next to his own, as did Crixus. Harry himself had elected to maintain his cloth waist skirt over his own wrap. Call him old fashioned but he didn’t want to show his ass off to every man present. It was a simple thing of red wool, but it extended to his knees and offered some level of protection and covered his bits at the same time. 

A whip cracked in the air and the opposite sides of the sands filled with big, burly, men of mean temperament and deadly purpose, and at their head was a weathered bald man with a deep-set scar on his face. 

“All right then.” He intoned into the still air, wrapping his whip back around his hand. “I see two new faces, so it is time to give voice to tradition and intent for all. Gladiators! What is beneath your feet?!?” 

“Sacred Ground, Doctore!” The crowd cheered back at him. 

“Oenomaus, speak clear thought to these mongrels.” The whip pointed to a certain black man standing head and shoulders above the others with an absolutely massive scar upon his chest. 

He stepped forward and spoke in the deepest baritone Harry had ever heard. “This ground is watered with tears of blood. Your tears, your blood, your pathetic lives forged into something of worth. Listen! Learn! And perhaps you will live - as Gladiators!” The crowd cheered once more, putting a wide smile on the doctore’s face. 

“Honorable experience spoken well, my pupil.” Another whip crack, this time against a board embedded in the ground, producing an accompanying thud for effect. “Now begin physical exercise. At noon we will have sparring!” 

The event apparently finished, the gladiators moved off to do who knew what, and the newest slaves began their first hesitant steps into gladiatorial training. They jogged around the sandy ground for hours on end, lifted heavy beams and performed squats with them, or went on extended farmers walks. Endless pushups, countless crunches, lunges for days. It seemed gladiator’s never skipped leg day. The sparring that followed was enough to crush any regular man into the dirt, so it was lucky they were not regular men. 

For two months this continued, and by the end, Harry and Crixus, who had already been strong from their time as stone carters, had become chiseled and hardened. The former was lean, powerful, and quicker than ever. The latter, well, he was massive. This training had offered him the perfect chance to put his vast strength to the test and he’d reaped the results. 

The sparring had also proven quite beneficial. Each man had tried out with various weapons and styles and had met with differing results. Crixus was naturally skilled with none, but by sheer force of stubborn will he’d made himself learn the sword and shield with enough ability to even impress the great (chronically drunk) Gannicus enough for a couple of tips. 

Harry, meanwhile….

** Flashback**

Dagan and Harry were circling each other in the center of the training sands with a crowd of Brothers of the order of gladiators cheering them on from the sidelines. With a wooden sword held low and shield locked ahead Harry advanced on the large Syrian and his big hammer. He took a couple of practice stabs, drawing the big man in, teasing him, making him angry, and when Dagan roared, wound his whole body behind a blow and swung with all his might at the shield hoping to crack it and his arm at the same time, the wizard smirked, waited till the last second, and then let go of the defensive tool entirely, its rounded edge supporting its stand on the ground just long enough to meet its purpose. 

The blow landed, and without Harry present to steady it and offer even a measure of a counter weight, the Syrian found himself forced off balance by the momentum of his own weapon and motion. As he staggered, the Briton moved in on swift feet, sword flashing. As the crowd watched he swung cuts that, had the blade been real, would have removed limbs, severed arteries, and finally taken his head. A final swipe conked Dagan on the side of the head and laid him flat in the dirt, to the accompaniment of much cheering and delight from the others. They absolutely loved watching newbies wail on each other. 

Harry should have kept his eyes on his opponent. He should have known such a bad tempered fool wouldn’t take a public defeat like this lying down. Harry heard a roar of rage, turned, and found Dagan rushing him from the ground, latching on to his sword arm, and driving him into a wall to drive his other hand into his neck, squeezing with the powerful wrath of a shamed man. 

Through the tumult of wagering gladiators in the background, Harry could hear Crixus screaming and trying to break through to aid him, but no one was letting him. “Play a trick now, shit fucker.” Dagan hissed in his native tongue as he increased the pressure, “What can you do when I hold your sword arm!?!”  

“ This !” the former boy who lived hissed before dropping his gladius into his other hand and kneeing the Syrian in the crotch (it was amazing how often that tactic proved effective) driving him back from the wall and providing space to move. It didn’t free his right arm however, as the big man was holding tight to it regardless of the pain he felt. 

‘Well ,’ he thought to himself, ‘all that does is keep him exactly where I can hit him.’ and so he did. With the same dexterity of his right arm Harry began to rain down blows on the gasping form of his opponent. He smashed fingers, broke his nose, cracked ribs, and shattered an eardrum before the doctore cracked his whip to bring an end to the brawl. The men groaned en masse as each passed coins around to cover bets before moving off to their own training. The doctore didn’t leave though. Instead he walked over to the strange Briton that had joined them all so late in the season. 

“You fight well with your left hand, yet you train the right in the yard.” He noted. 

Harry shrugged. “I grew up fighting with my fists. When one gets too damaged you use the other. I’m used to both sides.” 

“Hm.” The man moved off and came back with the wooden gladius he’d bludgeoned Dagan with along with another. “Take these both and go to Oenomaus. Tell him I sent you for dual training.” 

**Flashback End** 

And so Harry had been trained to use two blades at once, much like the current champion of the house, Gannicus, and his predecessor Oenomaus. It was intense, grueling, often painful, and advanced him in skill and overall respect amongst the brothers in leagues and bounds. Especially with the intense pace he insisted upon from his instructor. (There’s no need for a rest day, or time to recover from shattered ribs, when you can heal all wounds in a couple of days at most). The wizard had found the experience… enlightening. Oenomaus just might be the single most honorable man he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he was also entirely devoted to the house that owned him; believing wholeheartedly that without it he would never have amounted to anything more than a thief on the street. In this house he had an honored position as the greatest gladiator in the ludus, wounded or not. He had a wife that came to see him weekly, and his view of the world was… unique to say the least. He saw no problem with living in bondage, nor dying in it. To him, falling upon the sands to the applause of thousands was the perfect end to a glorious life. 

Harry had taken that information in stride and reminded himself, not for the first time, that people’s values were different in this time. And that those that had lived their lives in chains often had different desires and end goals. His own were not so crazy in his opinion. He wanted freedom in the long run, and was willing to become the best gladiator he could to get it. Other than that, well, the way the men crowed about rewards of women and wine… At nineteen Harry had still yet to touch a woman (not much chance when enslaved) and he was keenly aware of that lack in his ‘education’ . He only hoped the other men never found out. Needless to say, he wanted freedom, wealth, and women in equal measure. Not necessarily in that order. It was a good thing his upbringing had made him patient. 

Crixus was another story entirely. As long as Harry had known him he’d been desperate to prove himself as a warrior and as a man. He saw his enslavement and forced labor as a slight on his manhood and abilities. Now, however, he was being asked to give his all everyday, to excel, to become a man above others for the screaming adulation of a crowd. Harry was working his ass off to break his chains, but Crixus was doing the same to become the new champion of Capua. He trained to win. 

It wasn’t all peaches and rainbows however. The other men hazed them relentlessly. Pissing in their food, dousing their sleeping matts in flour, hiding the training weapons in increasingly out of the way places and sending them questing after them. Harry and Crixus took it in stride. The former because he didn’t really care, and the latter because he’d heard of such behavior from his father and his fellow soldiers before he’d been sold. Dealing with the craziness was just part of earning one’s place in any brotherhood. 

Asher and the Syrians didn’t handle it with the same level of grace. They screamed in outrage, outright attacked a few members of the brotherhood, and complained incessantly about their treatment. It could only end badly. 

A fact that Crixus made note of while they were sparring. “They put foul word to fouler mood, brother. Can not they see the disdain they cause in the others?” 

Harry ducked a swipe of his sword, moved in close and attempted to shoulder check him, only to be met with a round shield that pushed him back several steps. “I think their opinions of themselves are too high to care. Especially with Asher. He likes to brag about martial abilities that I have not yet seen.” 

“Skill and merit beat out empty words every time, Harry.” Crixus noted before their blades crossed once more. Both were aware of the dominus and his wife above, watching the progress of the men. “Let us show them ours. With luck we’ll impress, and favored placement can mean favored rise.” 

Harry grinned at those words. Their goals might not be as equal as they had once been, but in the end, they needed to reach the same place to get them, and neither was in any major hurry to get there without the other at their side. “Yes, let’s.” 

As the men continued their physical acts, up above Gaia was standing beside her greatest friend, Lucretia, and fanning her flushed face. She had run into her friend in the marketplace and asked for a place to stay for a while. A request that was easily acquiesced to. Beside them, Battiatus was speaking with an accounts slave about the current budget for grain. He took such a technical interest in his ludus, and it was quite surprising to see. Far different from the mousey young man she’d known all those years ago. 

Turning her gaze back to the sweaty, muscled, and writhing men on the floor below, her eyes became locked on one warrior in particular. His body was tall, toned, and had a nice dusting of hair on the chest where all the rest shaved themselves bare. His long hair was black as night and braided long down his back (Harry hadn’t seen much point in cutting it over the course of his captivity) and his beard, while unkempt, fit his face nicely. He was swinging around two swords as if he were born to the art. 

A fresh and very familiar heat began to build in her core at the sight, far removed from the temperature of the day. Gripping her friend’s arm tightly she steered the slightly taller female further from the woman’s husband’s side, following the railing of the balcony without losing sight of her target. 

“Lucretia, dear, I might have a favor to ask of you.” 

The other woman laughed merrily at those words. “Another one, Gaia? Ah, well, what is one more for my greatest and oldest friend? What would you have of me?” 

Smirking saucily, she responded, “Do you remember a few days ago when I posed the question of if you had ever considered taking a gladiator to your bed?” 

The redhead gasped at the implication of her words and covered her mouth to hide her shock. “Gaia!” She checked her tone and continued more softly, “Gaia. You cannot be serious?” 

“Whyever not, Lucy?” She leaned in close, “It’s all the rage in Rome. Why, I’ve heard tell of noble ladies spending over a hundred denari for just one night with a champion of the coliseum.” 

“I just do not understand why you would debase yourself so. They are slaves.”

“Just look at them, Lucy?” Gaia took a firm hold of her friend’s chin and turned her to look at the exercising men. “They are muscled, powerful, slick, men just bursting with energy. Who wouldn’t desire such fun between their legs?” 

Lucretia said nothing for several seconds, simply watching the view for a while before asking, “For you, I could arrange something. Who would you like in your chambers tonight? Gannicus? He is our champion.”

Gaia waved that suggestion off. “No, perhaps later, but he is not the one that currently has my eye.” 

“Then who?”

“Do you see that Briton with the two swords?”

“He’s not even a full gladiator yet. He does not bear the mark.”

The socialite shrugged lightly. “What do I care about that? He’s a perfect physical specimen, he’s handsome, and in all my life I’ve never sampled a Briton man. It would be a new and fresh experience.”

Lucretia eyed her friend shrewdly, and took note of the hungry desire plain in her eyes for all to see as she began to lick her lips with expectation. She sighed, knowing from experience that the other woman was not going to let this go after focusing so deeply on it. “Very well. I’ll instruct Mellita to have him cleaned and presented to you this evening.” 

“Oh! Lucretia you are truly the bestest of friends.” Gaia was nearly hopping in place with excitement, causing the other woman to smile fondly. This was exactly why she loved Gaia so, just by being here she was releasing so much positivity and energy, more than she ever could on her own. She felt that she truly did brighten up her home, as well as her life. 

Later That Night

Harry was just finishing his evening meal when his respite was interrupted by the creaking of his cell door. A beautiful woman with tanned skin and coal dark hair was waiting there with two guards by her side. He recognized Mellita, Oenomaus’ wife, readily enough from her weekly visits. 

He was quick to bow, pulling Crixus down with him. It wouldn’t do to let the domina’s personal body slave feel slighted by men lower than the rest in this pit. She could make things difficult for them if she so desired. The Syrians, notably, made no similar show of deference. 

It seemed as though such an act was not necessary however, as the woman merely chuckled at the sight and waved off the bows. “There is no need for that. Harry, my husband speaks well of you. A tall feat for one yet to bear the mark. I am Mellita.”

“I know, my lady. I have seen you visit your husband. May I ask what brings you to me?”

“You may.” She waved a hand and the guards cleared to the side, making free a path to the upper stairs. “Your presence has been requested by the domina’s dear friend. You will come with me to be prepared.” 

“Prepared?”

“To service her.”

Harry blinked at her nonchalant delivery of that line. “By ‘service’ her, you mean?”

Mellita sighed at his apparent ignorance. “Mistress Gaia has a physical craving, and she desires you to fill it. In simple terms, you are expected to fuck her.”

The Briton blinked once more before nodding stupidly and getting up off the ground. He was stopped suddenly by Crixus' arm on his own. “Brother, you cannot be okay with this.”

“Why not? Crixus, I am nearly twenty years old and have never touched a woman. Now I’m literally being told to do so. Is it a little demeaning to be ordered to, yeah, a bit, but I’m not exactly hating it.” 

The larger man thought this over for a second before nodding his understanding and letting him go. “If you are sure.” 

The door was clanged shut and locked behind Harry as he left, and he was quickly pulled along the stairs to the upper level by the guards with Mellita following close behind. He was led to a bathing room wherein the guards left and a pair of female house slaves promptly stripped and scrubbed him raw. Harry did his best not to blush as the women ran scented wet cloths over his more intimate bits. Then a fresh cloth wrap was placed around his waist and the girls went to work on his hair and beard. The hair was unbraided, washed clean, and plaited back into a manageable fashion. As for his beard…. They trimmed it until the black scruff more neatly hugged his jawline in a fashionable way. Though there were no mirrors present, when the work was done the wizard took a look at his reflection in the water and had to admit, he looked pretty good.

The house slaves left the now dried and groomed gladiator-in-training alone with Mellita then and he asked, “What now?” 

The personal slave to the domina grinned impishly at how eager the recruit sounded. “Patience, Harry. This is not a regular service offered at this ludus, so things are still being put in place. Right now the halls are being cleared to Mistress Gaia’s rooms, and once they are I will bring you to them. Then it will just be you and her for as long as she desires you.” 

It took ten minutes for a tap to come on the door announcing the way was clear of witnesses, and Mellita had used that time to inform Harry (under a light mental push) about some of the particulars of the Brotherhood test. But the sound came, the questioning ended, and the wizard was sent alone down the hall to a rather large set of wooden doors at the end. A room clearly overlooking the vast ravine at the edge of the building itself. 

Now that it came to it, Harry couldn’t deny to himself how nervous he was. So he gave himself a couple slaps on the cheeks, did a few push ups to make his muscles pop, and jerkily knocked on the door. “Come in, gladiator.” Her voice was honey sweet and he shuddered in place as he followed the order. Sweeping inside and closing the portal softly behind him before turning to view the source. 

His breath froze in his throat. On one side of the room stood a large bed with four posters holding back silk hangings. On the other side was an open balcony and standing before it, the wind gently ruffling her hair, was the domina’s friend, Gaia. She was leaned provocatively against a railing with a thin silk robe draped over her shoulders and held loosely at the waist by a light sash. The wind pulled its edges in pleasing directions that revealed very clearly that she was completely naked underneath it. 

*** Bit of a Lemon ***

She seemed pleased by his slack-jawed look as she sashayed over to his side, running her fingers up and down his bare chest. “Do you like what you see in me, gladiator?” Her eyes dipped low and her grin turned wide as a cheshire. “That tented wrap tells me well enough.” The hand on his chest dipped lower and gripped him firmly, earning a pleased gasp from his lips as his body began to shiver. 

“My, my, that is quite the reaction.” A sudden gleam entered the woman’s eyes as she whispered, “Are you a maiden?” 

Harry’s silence answered the question well enough and as she giggled with delight he said, “I am sorry, mistress. I’m supposed to please you, but I…”

“You don’t know how.” Gaia finished for him, giving his length another squeeze. “Do you realize how delicious that is?” Her hand released him before she started to circle his stationary form, pulling his wrap free with her as she did. “You are a blank slate. Free as a bird from the selfish impulses of more experienced lovers.” The cloth covering fell to the ground and Harry felt his nude form chilled in the breeze. It warmed right up when an equally nude Gaia melded herself to his back and began to stroke him at a medium pace. 

“Just imagine it. I’ll teach you all the ways of physical love. How to use your hands,” her grip tightened and the pace increased, “your tongue,” even faster, “your cock!” Harry tried to last, he really did, to give the best showing he could to this woman, but no one had ever touched him like this and it was all so overwhelming. With Gaia holding him upright he convulsed in her hands and gasped for air as she breathed deeply into his ear, cooing praise all the while. 

It took a few moments for the former boy-who-lived to come down from that high, but when he did he actually felt guilty. Yes he was a slave, but he’d just been given pleasure without giving any back. It didn’t seem fair. 

Luckily that was about to be rectified. “Come, gladiator, what is your name?” She led him over to the bed before laying down upon it and dragging him down beside her.

“I-I am called, Harry.” He hated how much his voice was quivering. But this woman was just so…. beautiful, mature, alluring, and she was lying on this bed with him of all people. 

“Harry.” His name practically purred off of her tongue. “A lovely name. Unique. Appropriate.” She took his hand, separated two fingers from the rest and guided them inside her, groaning as she did. “It’s my turn now.”

The wizard marveled at how wet and tight Gaia's core was to the touch of his fingers. “I don’t know what to-”

“Just start slow, and listen to what I tell you. Feel how my body responds to what you do.” 

Harry did so, and gently began to follow her words to the letter. 

“Move in and out, curl your fingers a bit… yes, just like that, perfect.” Gaia’s body began to twitch and writhe to his ministrations as he began to pick up his own pace. “Ooh, that feels wonderful. Now you feel that little nub there, yes, that’s right, are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Listening to the way her panting deepened when he touched that spot, Harry acted on instinct and applied more pressure before taking a liberty that had been on his mind since this entire thing began, launching in for a kiss, sealing her lips, moans, and cries with his his own mouth as she shuddered beneath him with bliss.

Her release was longer than his own, and took just as long to come down from, but when she did, her smile was downright angelic. “That was perfect, Harry.” Her hand came up to cup his face. “Yes, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun educating you on the fine art of pleasure.” 

“Ah… me too.” Harry smiled. 

“Good. You will return to me every night hence. I will have Lucretia’s girl, Mellita, ready to retrieve you after the evening meals.” 

*** Lemon End ***

It felt weird to be so happy to be ordered about, but Harry couldn’t deny he rather liked this particular directive. It would be a cold day in hell before the wizard turned down sex with a beautiful woman. “So… what now?” 

Gaia smirked at her new boytoy’s expectant gaze and replied, “Now we cuddle, and in a little while you’ll return below. Your exertions with me cannot take away from your training for the test after all.” She ran her fingers lightly over his smooth, unbranded, right forearm. “It would be a shame to lose someone with such potential to a lack of practice after all.” 

“Hmhmhm.” The gladiator trainee chuckled, “I’ll try not to disappoint you then.”

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Chapter Three - A Faulty Business Venture

Harry and Crixus, sweaty, bruised, and loving every second of it, lowered their weapons at the same time as their one opponent, Oenomaus, did. All three had eyes drawn to the door leading out of the training grounds where a newly bandaged Gannicus was being led down with a giant jug of wine in one hand and a beautiful woman under his arm. 

Oenomaus was all smiles at the sight and he quickly turned to his two students. “We will finish our training quickly and take ourselves to the bathing chamber after. It will take Gannicus at least an hour to wear himself out with that prostitute, but when he is done I think he will have quite the tale to tell.”

And indeed he did. Their trainer was right on the money with his prediction as not an hour past his mark Gannicus entered the bathing chamber as nude as his fellows and began his tale of triumph. Apparently he’d been sent by Batiatus to answer a challenge from a rival ludus owner, but when he’d arrived, the scoundrel had declared he must fight blindfolded. To the shock of the challenger he had done so, suffering light injury as a result, but in the end he’d proven victorious and managed to take the head of one of Vettius’ best gladiators in the process. After, as was his due, he’d been rewarded with wine and women, and Batiatus had been promised a business meeting with Tullius who the performance had indeed impressed. The champion had done his ludus proud. The tale soon had his brothers erupting into cheers. 

“Only mad Gannicus could win such a contest fucking blindfolded!” Auctus bellowed, arm in arm with Barca. (The openness with gay relationships in the Roman Empire had been quite surprising to Harry when he’d first arrived in his new time. After the conservatism of wizarding society it had taken some getting used to.) “Though Barca could do the same. Even if I’d shove loving arm through his chest for trying.” The two embraced happily for such a loving comment. 

At the same time Oenomaus stepped forth to speak. “Barca speaks truth. Facing Vettius’ man absent sight was beyond foolish. So the gods must have taken pity on your addled brain.” The gladiators burst out once more with guffaws and hearty laughter as Gannicus sought to defend himself. 

“The gods had naught to do with it. The man groaned like a stuck pig before every attack. It was child’s play to fight him. His squeals gave way to his position.”

“Hahahaha.” The two men clasped forearms. “It does the heart good to see your spirits so raised, brother.” 

“Ah haha. It gladdens me to hear that as well. Now, dominus gifts me with all the wine that I can drink, and I would share it with all of my brothers!” 

Gannicus found himself swarmed with well meaning gladiators, and as his gaze passed to the new recruits he added, “Those that bear the mark of the Brotherhood of course.”

As the men continued to revel and cheer, Crixus nudged Harry in the shoulder. “One day, we’ll be amongst them.” 

“Agreed, brother.” the wizard responded. “It shouldn’t be long now. Gaia says the opening games are fast approaching, and the dominus is chomping at the bit to increase the number of applicants he can put forth for them. She thinks our test will be soon to acquiesce that desire.” 

“Must be the deal Gannicus earned him.”

“Perhaps.”

Crixus was silent for a moment before giving his taller friend a humored look. “Gaia is telling you much. Does she speak in her sleep? Or are you so terrible and weak in bed that she must give fast tongue to make up for slow progress?” 

“Shove off.” Harry butted the other man’s shoulder affectionately before clarifying. “Yes, she is rather talkative after she’s been satisfied, but a lot of my information comes from my… other skills.”

“Ah.” 

Crixus knew of Harry’s abilities of course. It would have been monstrously hard to hide them from someone he was constantly around for over four years, but the stronger man had never really seemed to care much about them. He’d seen such things from wise men in his old lands and was always more concerned with what exactly he was facing on any given day than what spectral force could exist outside his being to be honest. 

“Have you learned much else?”

“I searched her mind for all of her erogenous zones.”

“I am serious, Harry.” 

“No, you are Crixus.”

“What?”

The wizard shrugged, “Old joke. Sorry. Our test is a fight against a full gladiator. We must win, or last for a set amount of time, or risk being sent to the mines. She also has an unhealthy sexual fascination with the domina, but that isn’t any of our business.”

“Then our time is almost upon us.” 

“Indeed. All that remains is to train and advance.” 

Or so they thought. For the first night in three weeks, Harry was not summoned to Gaia’s bed. He just figured she was busy or not in the mood, and thought nothing of it. Of course that changed the next morning when word came down through the house slaves to the training pit that Batiatus had been carted back to the ludus in the evening, beaten black, blue, and bloody to the point that the healers had feared for his life. Though they’d managed to stabilize him well enough for their comfort. It seemed both Gaia and Lucretia had spent the entire night nursing him. 

As always happens when something interesting was occuring, gossip and rumor flowed like a river. Over the next couple weeks the story eventually made its way throughout the villa and everyone learned the truth of what had happened. Apparently Batiatus had gone to the meeting place to see Tullius as agreed, expecting a deal to place his men in the opening games of the new arena. Instead, Tullius had offered to purchase Gannicus from him for his own use in the games. The dominus had denied the request of course. He wasn’t about to give up his best fighter under any circumstances. Next thing that happened was his bodyguard slain and himself beaten and literally pissed on in the street. A truly unfortunate business deal if ever there was one. 

All the same, life and training continued. The activities of Roman citizens were nothing to the whims of slaves after all. All they needed to focus on was living another day. So it was over a week before the dominus recovered enough to walk the grounds of his villa. And when he did he decided to peruse the work of his gladiators. It was sheer dumb luck that his wounded pride was at its highest when Dagan put one of his fellow Syrians on the ground in a spar, and the man raised two fingers in surrender, the sign for mercy. The Missio. 

“Doctore!” He bellowed, “Send that fucking man to the mines!” 

A great murmur of unease permeated the grounds, but the doctore, well used to following orders he did not agree with, waved the armed guards forward to perform the act. The Syrian was chained to the wall for all to see in warning of the cost of failure. No doubt he’d be carted away the following morning.

“We do not fucking surrender in this house!” Batiatus continued, “I’ll see these walls fall to ruin before Missio is given on these grounds or in contest!” He turned to leave, and the men went back to work. 

It was several hours later, and the recruits were performing an exercise Harry equated to Farmer’s Walks. In this case a variation that included walking in endless circles with a giant log on their shoulders. Each man was gasping for air, drenched in sweat, and dreaming of sleep and food. The sole exception being Harry. Oh to be sure he was sweating with the rest, but his advanced healing meant his tearing muscles were healing just as fast as he was damaging them. He honestly could have gone on all night if he’d needed to. 

But that would prove unnecessary. The doctore called a halt to their activity and they were ordered to get some food. The other men were already gathered and eating, and for once the porridge and bread they received had not been pissed or spat in. It seemed that in their own way, the men were taking a bit of pity on them after losing one of their own number to something that had never been punished before. An act that any one of them could have had the misfortune to perform in their master’s presence. 

“Indus looks miserable, chained to the wall.” Harry noted, dipping his bread into his porridge.

“As you would be, if sent to toil and die for no reason.” Asher groused. His ever present glare out and cast over all the brothers present and dining. “These men care not for the fate of a lowly recruit. Look at how they laugh and jest with each other while our friend suffers.” 

Harry didn’t think it worth mentioning the clean state of their food, or how the brothers seemed to be commiserating in their own way. He knew his surly compatriot wouldn’t understand. Honestly the man reminded him a bit too much of Ron Weasley in temperament to be healthy.

“We must gain the mark to get their respect and appreciation.” Asher continued. “Just imagine it. One day we shall rise together, and all the republic will marvel at the sight of us.” 

A quick glance from the wizard showed that Crixus indeed was thinking and feeling the same. The Gaul was nothing if not competitive. The two remaining Syrians continued their meal in annoyed silence, while Harry and his friend started to converse in the Gaulic tongue. 

“Crixus, the way Barca and Auctus look at you… they either want to fight or fuck you.”

The shorter man grunted agreement around a bite of bread. “The former I think. Barca would sooner remove hand from arm than touch someone other than Auctus. They love each other clear as day.” 

“Then one of them is likely your opponent for the test.”

“It would make sense. But I am not good against the spear. The range offered is beyond my ability to close.”

Harry thought about it for a moment and decided, “I’ll ask Oenomaus tomorrow during sword drills. It might help to try and ask Gannicus as well…if he’s sober enough to question that is.”

Crixus was silent for a moment before saying, “I already did.”

“What! When?”

“The last night you were called to Gaia’s chambers. He was passing in front of our cell and I took a chance in approaching him. He was less than happy to be interrupted, but he did give me some advice on how to handle a spear wielder. All I need now is practice.” 

“And I’m sure you’ll have it, brother. Nothing will stop us from joining the brotherhood and gaining position as a result.” For Crixus that position was obviously champion of Capua, for Harry it was all the steps closer to freedom.   

The two were interrupted in their conversation by the clanging of the gate and the arrival of Mellita. It was an open secret at this point why she was here, and the brothers, contrary to how they usually treated him, hooted and hollered goodnaturedly as he was led out. 

Out of the corner of his eye Harry noted a few other guards corralling the Syrians, including the one that had been chained and condemned, and leading them out a separate gate from the one he made use of. 

After the usual cleansing and bathing he was led to Gaia’s chamber to find her already laid on the bed, naked, stretched out like a cat with her beautiful black hair splayed out behind her like an oversized halo. By now their process was pretty well established, so the moment the door closed behind him he pulled his waist wrap free and approached the bed, internally delighting in the way her eyes lustfully perused his form. 

“Welcome back, Harry.” She purred, further increasing the cat-like image she represented. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned from me, dear.” 

“Of course, mistress.” Harry answered, crawling onto the mattress between her legs and moving over her body until he was hovering over her. “How would you like me tonight?” 

“Surprise me.” 

************************* Lemon Start ************************

“Gladly.” The gladiator whispered before kissing his way down the woman’s body, pausing slightly to circle her navel with his tongue before continuing on his way to reach her core. Once there he spent a moment lavishing her inner thighs with attention before pulling one calf over his shoulder to open her up. Gaia had told him once that most men chose not to perform oral on women as they thought it was unclean or unmanly. Not to him. No, Harry found that one of his favorite positions in the world was between a woman’s legs. He felt powerful there, in control.

 As his tongue and fingers went to work he made sure to stare up into her eyes. Recently he’d developed a technique using legilimancy and he wanted to see if it had applications in the bedroom as well as in the training yard. He called it present tense mind reading. The trick was being able to identify all the passive surface thoughts the moment they came into being and reacting to them just as quickly. So it was that with every flick of his tongue on Gaia’s wonderful lips, with every thrust and twist of his fingers, and with every pinch or rub of her clit he sensed exactly how much pleasure she felt, where best to move and when, and what she liked or disliked him doing in the moment. 

It was the fastest his tongue had ever gotten her over the rise and within a minute she was gasping and moaning his name as sweet nectar poured freely onto his tongue. The noblewoman’s fingers held his hair in a deathgrip and he reveled in the feeling of giving his partner such pleasure. Something that would have been unthinkable a short time prior. Plus, the sight of Gaia’s beautiful breasts heaving as she sucked in massive breaths was a massive turn on. 

Giving her slit one last lingering lick he lowered her leg and began climbing back up her body before kissing her deeply, flipping her onto her stomach, and giving her luscious ass a healthy slap. 

“Ooh.” Gaia moaned at the stinging slap, “Someone is feeling frisky.”

“When you have the ass of Aphrodite, how could I not be.” Harry asked as he nibbled on her ear, pushed the woman’s knees beneath her, and kept a hand on her back to angle her body just right before leaning down to slowly slide his rock hard member deep into the warm embrace of her entrance. They both groaned at the feeling and after taking a moment to bask in the experience he shoved her head into the mattress with one hand, copped a full grip of her ass with the other, and began pounding into her with abandon, knowing how rough the woman that had taken his virginity tended to like it when they really got going.

It was a real testament to her training that he lasted as long as he did, and by the time he began to feel the tightening of his testicles that signaled his end was coming he’d already taken his partner to two more orgasms that had her literally biting the bedsheets with rapture. Still, regardless of all the fun they were having he had to be responsible.

  “G-Gaia,” He gasped, keeping all his attention on holding back the tide of his release. “Inside or outside, mistress?”

“O-Out!” she moaned in a tone that finally finished him. At the last possible second he pulled his penis free of her folds and immediately released everything he had over the small of her back, a sight so pleasing that it had him practically up and ready to go again. He probably would have if he hadn’t been so exhausted by everything else he’d done so far. 

*** Lemon End *** 

Knowing how much Gaia liked to cuddle after sex he pulled the older woman close and lightly summoned the sheet at the other end of the bed to his hand before pulling it up over them both. Wandless magic was a bitch to use, and after years of captivity he’d only learned a few tricks, but a low grade summoning of an object as light as a sheet wasn’t too bad. He’d been practicing with stones in his cell and was hoping to eventually move on to knives and swords. Never being disarmed again sounded good to him. 

His partner didn’t seem inclined to clean up the mess he’d made of her anytime soon. The noblewoman merely panted beneath him, eyes glazed, and a self-satisfied smile cast by her slightly bruised lips. It was the perfect opportunity for him to make use of one of his gifts. He’d found over the last four years that trying to delve into the minds of people who were overly aware, strong minded, or greatly focused, resulted in deep headaches for the targets, much like he’d received from Professor Quirrel all those years ago. He could still get in without issue, but alerting anyone to his presence in such a way didn’t seem smart in most cases. However, when they were weak, tired, distracted, otherwise occupied, or in Gaia’s case supremely satisfied and intoxicated with the endorphins of a fresh orgasm, the mind became as open as a book. All he needed to do was look into the target’s eyes.

So, cupping Gaia’s chin in his hands he leaned in for another kiss, and when he backed away he locked his eyes to hers. A moment later her thoughts were flowing through his mind, and it was child’s play to sift through them and find the relevant information. 

Ooh, she and Lucretia had shared some opium induced lesbian fun? He was definitely saving that memory for later. 

Batiatus had severe daddy issues? Could prove useful to know that. 

She was looking at some rich guy named Tullius as a potential husband of means. Wasn’t he the guy that fucked up Batiatus’ face? Well who was he to question someone for the way they climbed up in society. 

Batiatus himself it seemed hadn’t taken that beating lying down. No indeed, he had mentioned a plan in this wonderful woman’s presence to get even. A plan that involved the Syrians… Oh no. That could not end well. The dominus apparently wanted to fuck up Vettius even worse than he’d been hurt, steal his patron, and use that man as a portal to both win favor and enter his gladiators in the opening games. This man apparently ranked higher than Tullius, and thus his patronage would supercede the successful merchant’s ban of the Batiatus Ludus from the festivities. That being said, the man formerly destined for the mines was sure to be killed, as Vettius would need to see his face for the ruse to work. 

For a moment that thought caused a bout of depression in Harry. He knew the man well after all. He’d lived and trained beside him for several weeks now. However, the life of a stone hauler was vicious enough. If even half of the stories about the mines were true then they made his previous incarceration look like a walk in the park on a sunny day. Perhaps death was better overall? And besides, it was too late to stop this plan even if he’d wanted to. The men had already been sent out so they’d be able to get staged without anyone possibly seeing them leave the ludus. The event in question would be occurring tomorrow afternoon. Nothing to do about it really but sit back and see how the chips fell. 

He willed himself out of the trance and smiled at the woman beneath him. “Is there anything else you require of me, mistress?” 

“No, dear, you’ve more than met my needs for you this night. You may return to your cell.”

Harry nodded, pulled himself free from the bed, and wrapped his cloth around his waist once more. Some part of him marveled at how natural it felt to don the piece. Was this how Scotsmen felt when they wore their kilts? Thoughts for another day. He exited the room, crossed the hall, and met once more with Mellita. “I’m ready to return.” 

“Very good.” She smirked at the man before her, “I trust you enjoyed yourself?”

“How could I not?” He laughed heartily, “Best order I’ve ever been given. But I need some rest before training in the morning so can we go on?” 

“Of course. And when you begin your work tomorrow, tell Oenomaus that I’ll be lighting a candle in prayer for him tonight.”

“I will, Mellita. I’m sure the news will bring a wide smile to normally sour features.”

And the next day it did indeed. The dark skinned warrior was all smiles and white teeth all day, though it didn’t stop him from beating the wizard black and blue all across the yard, as was his way. Every hit was supposed to teach Harry how best to avoid feeling it again. To be fair, it actually worked really well, though he attributed it mostly to his enhanced healing. Being able to get right back into the spar instead of groaning on the ground with shattered ribs made the lessons learned all the faster. Through the work Harry eventually took notice of the arrival of guests, as visible from the signs of house slaves scurrying around on the veranda above, but he was too busy to really care overmuch. 

Of course, that good mood immediately became awkward when Batiatus returned to the villa, and with him Asher and Dagan. Asher and Dagan who were apparently ordered to receive the marks of the brotherhood for a set of mysterious services rendered to the dominus of the ludus… absent the final test. It seemed the dominus had indeed enacted the plan from Gaia’s memory. Needless to say, this bit of news upset pretty much everyone. Even Harry and Crixus, who had been training hard to earn the mark themselves, felt slighted. One look at the pissed off crowd showed they’d done it the right way.

Funnily enough, while that argument started growing, Harry noticed Gannicus being led away by Mellita with a couple of the younger slaves. Hm, Naevia, wasn’t that the one Crixus had been making eyes at recently? Regardless, he had no intention of getting involved in whatever the hell that was all about. He had enough going on here keeping Crixus back and making sure they were constantly on another side of the room from the Syrians. The last thing they needed was to be associated with them at the moment any more than being fellow rookies. 

It was a hostile situation made worse by the sheer pride exuding off of their faces. Both Dagan and Asher seemed to believe they’d done something truly worthy of receiving the vaunted mark, and to Batiatus perhaps they had, but having been sworn to secrecy they could not even tell the others that they’d performed a task to take blood, so that miniscule justification was lost as well, even if they’d thought to break trust and explain, which they didn’t. 

From there, the entire situation devolved into madness. The doctore threw the Syrians into the dirt of the training ground, brutally branded their arms without ceremony or honor, and then absolutely lost his shit on Oenomaus when the tall man decided he needed to speak to the horror presented before them. The grizzled older man grabbed two real blades from the rack, tossed one to his favorite student, and before the darker skinned man even had time to take a proper stance he was on the defensive as his doctore charged him. 

Crixus moved as if to intervene, but Harry held him back. “Peace, brother. This is not our affair. Until we ourselves bear the mark all interrupting would do would be to make us as much pariah’s as Asher and Dagan.”

“Then speak what action we are to take.”

“We watch, we wait, and if necessary help to deal with whichever body hits the ground permanently.” 

And so it was that they observed with all the others that were too startled and scared to intercede. They watched as the two men bloodied each other. They watched as Oenomaus received a fiery line slashed upon his face. Finally, they watched as the same man ducked under a powerful swing and, acting on instinct, drove the tip of his own gladius up into the space of the doctore’s unarmored armpit and straight through his heart. There was time enough for some slight words between them that naught but the combatants heard, and then the older man’s body fell the sand before the great cliff, and Oenomaus was left staring into the abyss with shock and despair clear across his features. The others were all feeling much the same way. The fight had gone on for some time and they had all expected a win by exhaustion or submission, not death. 

No one knew what to do about this for several minutes, and by then Harry decided he had waited long enough. The fight was done, and his mentor needed help. He swiftly went up to his side, took his hand, and led him off the grounds back to his private cell next to Gannicus’ own. He sat him on his bed, poured a mug of wine from a nearby gourd, and shoved it in his hands. “Drink.”

“No, I-I should not inebriate-”

“You have not had to kill a friend before. Drink, you need it.” 

Oenomaus seemed as if he was about to dispute that for a moment, before he sighed with resignation and drained the clay glass in a single long gulp. Harry dutifully refilled it right away, and his mentor took a little longer the second time finishing it. 

“You speak as one with experience. You have also slain someone close to you?”

The wizard sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cell. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to get this off his chest. But how to phrase it in a way that his trainer would understand, or better yet believe? “You know that I come from Brittania?”

“I do. I have honestly never seen someone so pale as you.”

“When I was but twelve name days old, I met someone I believed to be a friend named Tom. Now, I told my other friends I only talked to him once, but in reality he was so kind, charming, and understanding to all of my worries that I couldn’t help seeing him more and more. I genuinely believed he cared about me as a person and wanted to be a part of my life.” (That seemed more believable than the fact he’d been writing to the specter endlessly in its cursed diary.)

“What happened?”

“It turned out he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He kidnapped the sister of my friend, almost killed her, and then tried to murder me when I went to save her. In the end I had to slay him to ensure we all made it home. It was not easy, and I had many nightmares after the fact, but in the end I had to come to terms with the fact that it was him or me. A scenario that you too have now faced.”

“You know what happened tonight was not your fault either right?” Harry asked. “I was watching the fight the same as everyone else, and the doctore gave you no choice. He challenged you, attacked you, and most certainly would have killed you had you not done him in first. I’m not sure what caused this confrontation, but it was inevitable the moment he dragged you into the sands and put live steel in your hands.”

Oenomaus nodded his agreement. “That is true. I could sense his conviction in the way he swung his blade. My friend was ready to make an end on those sands, one way or another.” He took another drink, “Thank you, Harry, for getting me away from there.”

“I was happy to do it. None of your brothers seemed ready to move.”

“They were merely as shocked by what happened as I was.” He held out his hand, an action that the wizard was more shocked by than the death that had just occurred. He hesitantly reached out and grasped it with his own. 

“For this aid you have granted me I will up your training even further. You are already quite skilled but I will make you the challenge of every gladiator in this ludus. And when you have triumphed in your final test and earned the mark, I will be proud to call you my brother.” 

“I will be proud to call you the same. Would you like me to stay?”

“No, I… wish to think on the things you have said for a time. But would you go to the guard and request Mellita’s presence here? I would hold my wife close this night.”

“Understandable. I will do this.” Harry stood and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Be well, Oenomaus, and know that more men than just I are glad you triumphed and survived this night.” With that, the wizard took his leave, nodded to the gathered gladiators to show that their comrade was fine, and headed for the guarded gate to the villa proper. 

Brikus was the current guard, and he’d opened the way for him before so he was not too unkind when Harry addressed him. “Guard Brikus, there has been an incident, did you hear it?”

“I heard conflict, slave, but I could see nothing of it. What has occurred?” 

So Harry informed him of the incident and made the request for Mellita to be brought to the gladiator quarters. The guard said he would pass it along and left to do so. Clearly he must have received different orders for he arrived back with Mellita but ordered that Oenomaus be brought forth to inform the Dominus of what exactly had occurred in his own words. Harry agreed to pass it along, and escorted the woman to her husband’s cell, taking a random moment to look into her eyes to see what had occurred above while all this was going down. What he saw… at once he ducked them into a shadowed alcove, embraced her, and whispered in her ear, “What happened was not your fault.” She jolted in place but did not pull away.

“Y-You know? How?” 

It seemed that Batiatus’ plan had worked better than expected. Varus, the noble, was overjoyed to be in the man’s home and seemed open to patronage. So the dominus had presented Gannicus to him. The thought was that his strength and presence would entice the noble and the slave was prepared to fight another gladiator there for his pleasure, but Varus seemed to have… odd desires. He didn’t want to see the gladiator fight. He wanted to see him fuck. And he’d made his patronage dependent on the champion laying with Mellita. 

“I have my ways. Listen, you had no choice up there. You were given an order and to deny it would have meant harsh punishment of the highest degree, especially with the quality of the guests present.”

“What do I do?” Mellita finally pulled away to stare into his eyes fully, displaying all of her pent up pain and worry to the young man that had quickly become a fast friend to her and her husband. “I need to tell my husband, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do. Holding it back will only hurt you and him, and I do not see Gannicus owning up to it himself. That being said, wait at least until tomorrow. Too much has happened tonight and Oenomaus simply needs your comfort right now. Tomorrow let him comfort you. And you know as well as I that he will.” 

Tears began to build in the brunette’s eyes and she managed to get out through a sob clogged throat, “Thank you, Harry. I didn’t know how much I needed to…. needed to…”

“Talk about it with someone who wouldn’t judge?” Harry guessed. “I understand more than you know. Now wipe your eyes, there you go, and let’s go tell your husband he has an audience to attend. If we hurry we can still get to him before he gets too drunk.” 

The rest of the night went as expected. Oenomaus explained what had happened to the dominus, he retired to his cell to spend the night with his wife comforting him, and in the morning they all learned that the man had been elevated to the rank of doctore himself, now responsible for their training in the place of the man he had killed. As was shown when he showed up in the old doctore’s armor and began cracking his whip with the exclamation of “Begin the morning’s training!” 

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. 

Chapter Four - The Arena Beckons

“So how was your first experience as a doctore?” Harry asked over the rim of his bowl as he chowed down on the protein gruel that all the men were fed post exercise. The older slave had invited him to the solitude of his cell to eat together and to offer his thanks once more for all that he’d said and done after he’d been forced to kill his predecessor. 

“It was… odd.” Oenomaus admitted. “I feel that the men still like me, but they do not offer proper respect. My predecessor could slam the whip and all eyes were on him in instant awe, yet when I put whip to thought barely any take notice.”

“That is a pickle.”

“Pardon?”

“A phrase from my homeland, don’t worry about it. Look Oenomaus, I’ve led men before, and at my young age it was not easy. I can tell you that this right here, speaking as friends alone, that is fine. Yet out there on the training ground you cannot be seen to be soft or kind. Do not expect respect, demand it. Even I had to put a couple of people down on their asses before the main crowd of my students fell in line. So be brutal for a while, provide necessary discipline, and trust that the men will thank you for it later.”

“Hm.” The dark skinned man thought those words over for a while. “You speak sense, Harry. Gratitude. Yet I find myself once more wondering greatly about this past you hint at yet never fully explain.”

The younger man smiled at his mentor and said, “Perhaps one day I will tell you the full story, but not yet. Remembering that life isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Of course.” Oenomaus nodded. He’d been of the Batiatus Ludus since he was a child, having been sold to settle his family’s debts, and didn’t truly remember life before his service, but he knew many slaves who found their pasts to be painful, and voluntarily chose to put them behind them to move on in their new roles. So instead he changed the subject. “The test is coming soon. How are you feeling about it?”

“Like I’m capable enough to beat any of the brothers here except maybe Gannicus.” 

“Do not be overproud.”

“I’m not. I’ve carefully weighed my skills against the others, but I will admit that Barca might prove a challenge. The advanced reach of his spear is troublesome, but I’m good at dodging so all I’d need to do is get close.”

“Yes, but you forget he is much bigger than you.”

“True, but I’m faster.”

“Hm.” The man seemed to consider what he was about to say for a moment before clearly deciding to go for it. “The dominus has secured advantageous position for Gannicus in the upcoming games. What is more, he desires good showing from his ludus and is considering advancing the test sooner so that you and the others could compete if you pass. Do you think you could pass if you attempted it now?”

“Easily.”

“And Crixus?”

“With how much Gannicus has been teaching him, yes.” 

The tall man cringed, “I’d ask about Asher, but we already know how he turned out.”

The two fell into a simple silence as Harry continued to eat. In fact, nothing else was said until he finished his bowl. At that point he started to get an idea about another possible reason for this private meeting. “Did Mellita talk to you?”

“...Yes.” Oenomaus breathed out slowly and clenched his fists over his crossed knees. From where he sat across from the wizard it was clear how much the man was struggling with what he had learned. 

“You do not need to put words to thoughts if it is too much now.”

“No. You have been a true friend to me and my wife, and I need to understand my thoughts by giving them voice. Please, listen.”

“Of course.”

“I know she had no choice in what happened.” He said slowly. “I know that Gannicus was only following orders. And I know that with the guests involved only swift and brutal punishment would have followed disobedience, yet still…”

“Still, your wife laid with your best friend.” Harry finished for him. “It is not a simple thing to come to terms with.”

“What do I do with this, Harry? Who do I blame?” 

“No one.”

“What?”

“I’d say blame Batiatus, but we both know nothing good can come from that. What occurred was horrible, but nothing can be done about it now. Comfort your wife, forgive your friend if you can, and try to move forward. Understand that they were ‘ both’ horribly violated last night in body and soul. This is the best thing you can do.”

“I… will attempt this thing. But I don’t think I will be able to look Gannicus in the eye again for some time.”

“I would be surprised if he could look into yours for a while either. I imagine he believes himself to have betrayed both Mellita and you. His guilt will be great.” 

“Is it wrong that I want to both defend him and punch him in the face?”

“No, I’d say that is likely normal.” When it seemed that Oenomaus wasn’t going to offer anything else, Harry set his bowl down and rose back to his feet. “If there isn’t anything more then I should get back to training. If that test is coming fast as you say, I need to be ready.”

“Wise words, my friend. Wise words. But we should both be getting back onto the sands. The dominus has informed me that he wishes to address us all before the afternoon practice begins in haste and I must call the others to attention.”

And so they returned to the open space where soon they were joined by the other gladiators. A quick strike of Oenomeus’ whip had them moving into a straight formation (even if some were rather slow in following the clear order), and soon enough Batiatus was standing at the railing above, ready to speak to his warriors. Harry couldn’t help but notice Gaia standing beside his wife and offered the woman a wink that she saucily returned right back at him. Gannicus was at the lannista’s right hand and soon enough Oenomeus mounted the stairs behind the cells and took his place at his right. 

“We have won many great victories in the arena!” The dominus declared in a proud booming voice. “Many an unworthy foe has fallen beneath our blades and sandals, been sent to the afterlife, and been found wanting. Yet self-important men have set us at arms length, and held us to the lesser tiered matches of the morning; absent both eyes of the crowd and prominence. Such time however has found its end.” The Lannista smirked as he explained, “Two days hence our champion shall take to the sands to face another of Vettius’ shit eating dogs! Not this time in the streets, but the fucking primus!” 

That got a reaction from the men, who all stared wildly at the champion of the ludus. It was clear to see who would be competing and the primus was the pinnacle of the entire event, the highlight of Capua’s year. To be a featured combatant in it was to be immortalized in name and reputation. They cheered as one and began raising their fists toward the still downcast looking man. Only the raised hands of their master quieted them all down once more. 

 “Behold the champion whose recent performance earned grace and position in this mighty event, and inspired good Varus to restore the house of Batiatus to proper position. Gannicus!” He gestured to the man at his left and the gladiators cheered anew for their comrade, pleased to see him gain the recognition they felt he deserved. Only Harry could see the conflict inside him as the man wrestled with what he’d done to get it. 

“A true god of the arena,” the owner continued, “a man to be admired and emulated. This is but a glorious beginning. Soon you too shall litter the sand with the blood and bone of those who present challenge to this great house.” He gestured to his right and Oenomeus stepped forth, “You will do this with the training of yet another champion of this house, a god of death and steel, the only man to face Theokoles and live, Oenomaus!” More cheers. “Heed his words and whip well, and he will see you all rise to heights you can only dream of!” 

Quintus went on to say some more things about how great his house was, but Harry didn’t really care. His eyes were locked onto Gaia’s own as she curled her finger through her hair and gently licked the edges of her lips in the way she knew drove him wild. The minx was teasing him! Oh he’d get her back for that sure as day. In fact… meeting her eyes he took in the memories at the front of her mind and saw that she’d spent the last night watching Quintus and Lucretia going at it, and that she had gained several ideas for what they might get up to later. Naughty girl.  

Due to that exchange Harry fully expected to be summoned up to service the noble woman in short order, as was her habit. Yet instead he found himself continuing as usual in the training grounds and driving his opponents into the dirt without issue. Now that Oenomaus had been named doctore there was no real challenge left except for Crixus, and he was still fighting Gannicus. To be sure he enjoyed the exercise, but he’d have enjoyed the ‘cardio’ Gaia could provide even more. 

This continued on its usual course until the bell rang for a cease to exertion and a start to the evening meal. As was tradition the branded brothers were served first, then came Harry and Crixus who earned grudging nods from the other gladiators. They were not full brothers of the ludus yet, but the skill they’d shown on the sand, as well as the vouching of both Gannicus and Oenomaus, was working in their favor. 

It was as they were taking their seats on a bench by the wall that Crixus noticed something of interest. “Why are they changing the serving pot?”

Harry looked up from his bowl and indeed a new pot was being placed on the table. The answer became clear soon enough as both Asher and his Syrian comrade entered into the space. “I’d say because we are about to get a show, brother.” 

As he spoke, the Syirans dished up, shared oddly respectful words with the others, and then dug into their food… only to spit it out at once the moment their tongues tasted the gathered piss of fourteen men who had added their own ‘seasoning’ to the pot. They were understandably upset, especially when Barca made it clear the men collectively believed they had not actually earned their marks, and violence seemed imminent until Gannicus raised his hand and pointed the affronted men out of the dining space. No one wanted to mess with their best fighter so close to the pinnacle event of his career. The newest brothers left without further complaint. 

Things would have gone on normally from there, but it seemed Oenomaus had taken his protege’s words to heart for as soon he came down he collected Gannicus and took him over to the edge of the cliffside where no one could overhear them. 

“What is this about, Oenomaus?” Gannicus spoke without looking at his friend. 

“I think you know.” the bigger man stated evenly, earning a gasp of shock from his brother in all but blood. 

“Oenomaus, I-”

“Do not speak. A fearful tongue will say words the heart will later regret. This I know. Instead, listen to words thought hard on by a friend you have hurt.” Gannicus gulped and nodded, so the other man continued. “You are my brother, my oldest friend, and Mellita is my wife, the heart of my life.” Oenomaus sighed and stared out at the space below, bathed in the dimming light of the sunset. “I… know of what happened between you. She told me.”

“Brother-”

“She also told me that it was not your fault. A fact that Harry verified later by way of the Lady Gaia. You followed orders, so did Mellita. I do not hate you for that, nor can I blame you.” Turning to face a gobsmacked Gannicus head on he finished, “I am not happy. My heart has taken a wound, but it is not a wound you caused, rather it is one that exists for the pain that both you and my wife have suffered. Pain that I was not able to stop from occurring no matter how much I wish I could have.”

Reaching out to grasp his friend’s shoulder firmly he added, “I would not have past deeds beyond either of our control affect our friendship.”

“Neither would I.” Gannicus didn’t look like he could believe the words he was hearing. 

“It will take time to heal, but heal we shall.” 

The two men embraced warmly before returning to the others just in time for the arrival of an old man who greeted the gathered gladiators like long lost relatives. Harry would later learn that this was Quintus’s father, and his presence was the reason that Gaia had not called for him. Apparently he’d arrived after his son’s speech and Lucretia had decided that no funny business could occur under their roof so long as he resided inside. 

The next morning’s training proved a bit strained with his addition to the house, as all of the old man’s attention was on their movement, as well as Oenomaus’ role of doctore. It seemed the two of them had been close before his retirement and now he was getting the new lay of the land as it were for what had changed in his absence. It meant a good showing was in order. 

Harry, who was training against the spear wielding Auctus shrugged toward the branded man. “Sorry, old chum, but the boss man is watching.”

“What?”

The wizard dove in, keeping his eyes looked on those of his target to read his surface thoughts the instant they occurred. It turned out his bedroom trick did indeed work just as well to handle spear wielders, and it had the added bonus of psyching his opponents out as typically watching eyes alone in a fight was a good way for a gladiator to end up dead, yet in his case it proved effective as he nimbly dodged two thrusts and swipes before ducking in, kicking the man’s spear holding wrist to disarm him and thwacking him mightily on the back of the head. He went down without even a sound. As he moved to retrieve some water he mused that such a trick wouldn’t work for someone wearing a helmet. Too much chance of breaking eye contact at an unfortunate moment. 

After slapping the man awake once more and helping him to his feet, Harry glanced again at the balcony and saw the old man watching him directly and nodding with appreciation. He seemed like a man who appreciated honor, even if there really was none in their shit world. Then the former lannista’s eyes turned to Crixus and the wizard knew what he was seeing. A Gaul who stood two heads shorter than most of the men, yet withstood the attacks of Barca with great strength and poise. Crixus was not agile, but he was resilient, and his hand eye coordination was excellent. Each attack was parried, each feint met, and though he was not yet skilled enough to outright defeat the veteran of the ludus, he was at least holding his position, a sight that seemed to infuriate the spearman. 

Up above, Titus Batiatus stared down at the spectacle of his house’s warriors doing battle and training their bodies to the pinnacle of human ability, and he had to smile. By the gods had he missed this sight while he lay retired in Sicilia. There was nothing quite like it. He even had to grudgingly admit that his boy had done well in acquiring the two new slaves currently in action, though the Syrians were disappointingly average in comparison. 

Turning to Mellita as she poured him a glass of watered wine (and wasn’t it a joy to see her again) he asked, “That svelte man, the newcomer, what can you tell me of him?”

In spite of recent events leaving their mark within her still, Mellita smiled at the mention of the younger man. “That is Harry, Dominus.”

“Harry? An odd name, that. Where does he hail from?”

“He is a Briton, Dominus. Britannia was his homeland.” 

“Fascinating.” The old man stroked his chin as he took a sip of his drink. There was just something lovely about Capua wine that made it better than anywhere else in the world. “I’ve never actually seen a Briton before. The way he moves is certainly unique. Low, quick, agile, eyes on the prey at all times and no wasted movement or energy until the dodge or the strike. He reminds me a bit of a lion.”

“He is amazing, Dominus.” At the man’s raised brow she elaborated. “He showed enough promise to earn direct training and interest from my husband. Now the two are quite close. He saw some… pain that I was feeling, and convinced me not to keep it inside and speak to Oenomaus. He is a good man.”

“Then he is a gentleman as well as a warrior. A rare combination.” Titus leaned against the railing. “What am I to do, Mellita? Missives from good Solonius paint my son as the fool, yet his choice in warriors seems promising, hinting at the true Eye of the Lannista that I had long thought him lacking. Does he truly have the eye for this work? As a father I wish nothing but for that to be true, yet his reliance on Gannicus,” his eyes took in the drunken man as he stumbled out of his cell to the water barrel, “is troubling.” 

Before Mellita could say anything in defense of the man his son came stumbling up to the balcony reaching for a glass of water. “Apologies, father. I had not known you had arisen.” 

“I awoke at a respectable hour, perhaps you should have done the same. Now come and attend me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To put water to the fire you’ve started beneath this house.”

When Harry looked up again the elder Batiatus had departed, and he later learned from Oenomaus that he’d left to meet with Tullius and his man Vettius. Likely to attempt to smooth over whatever harm his son had caused to the fragile peace between gladiatorial schools in Capua. Regardless, that was nothing to do with him. He had his own worries at hand like the upcoming test for entry into the brotherhood. To that end he trained back to back with Crixus facing both of their opponents, and then they took turns facing two spearmen at once. It was difficult and they both ended up bloody and bruised, but they believed the experience to have been beneficial. 

Things carried on in that vein for several hours more until the dinner bell rang, calling an end to the day’s exertions. As one they entered the dining area and dished up as before, yet as was the case in the past, the Briton and the Gaul sensed something amiss in the air. A feeling that drew their eyes to Asher and Dagan who were munching on meat from very small and slight bones.

“Were we being served chicken this day?” Crixus asked under his breath. By now the others gathered to eat were feeling the tension as well. 

“No we were not.” Harry answered in kind, scooting further back along the bench to separate himself from whatever clusterfuck was sure to follow. 

And follow it did. It seemed those bones belonged to Auctus’s pet birds, who seemed to have been captured and cooked. As was expected, the man himself and his boyfriend Barca came charging in like the hounds of hell and the two groups began wailing on each other. It wasn’t long until the others got involved as well. 

As they watched, Gannicus approached them. “You were recruits with those men, should you not be helping them?”

Harry scoffed, “If you think we’re getting in the middle of that, you’re crazy.”

Crixus agreed, “We are not branded brothers. It would not be right for us to intervene in these matters.”

“Well I sure as shit can.” And so Gannicus too waded into what was quickly becoming a full scale brawl. It was soon much to all of their embarrassment as the gate to the upper levels burst open and Titus came storming in with his son right on his heels. 

“Is this what my house has fallen to?!?” He bellowed. “Brother against brother, rolling around in the dirt so far removed from the honor of the arena?” He growled, “This is a further sign of the insult to the gods you have all become. Reason enough to have the primus ripped from our hands.”

Gannicus was aghast at those words. “I do not fight in the games?”

“You do not.” As the men grumbled at this disgrace, Quintus tried to reassure them that all was not lost. 

“My father’s deal with Tullius precludes us from the primus event, but the sacrifices you have made are not entirely in vain. Several of you shall be met on the arena sands after the noonday sun. Harry, Crixus, you shall be among them. Consider this a test by fire to earn your mark, or die to the applause of the crowd.”

Still growling under his rage, Titus added, “And may your performance there bring more honor to the house of Batiatus then your conduct today has lost yourselves.” 

Later that night the men were gathered in the large baths when notice of the matchups was presented. It always amazed Harry how open the men were with their nudity, and he eventually got used to his own, but it was still odd for him on occasion. Several men took note of the fact they were fighting each other, including Asher who was fighting Dagan, then Barca and Auctus saw who they were fighting. 

“The fucking newbies.” They groaned before moving off to coat their muscles in oil for a massage. There were a team of slaves always at the ready in the baths that specialized in massage, physical therapy, and medicine to maintain the stock of gladiators in the ludus. It wouldn’t do for the prize breadwinners to be taken out by torn muscles and stressed ligaments after all. 

Harry bumped shoulders with Crixus, “Fear not, brother. We will show them our worth soon and they will be proud to have crossed blades with us.” 

The Gaul nodded his thanks at such words before moving over to the baths. Harry meanwhile joined the others making use of the masseuses. Healing or not he was still sore and felt the need for relaxation. Or at least he would have were he not informed of a guest to see him at the barred entrance. Naturally he assumed it was a request from Gaia so he quickly donned his waist wrap and made his way out, only to be surprised when he saw Mellita holding a weeping brunette in her arms. 

“Mellita?” He questioned carefully as he made his way to the gate, folding his fingers through the holes in the steel as he leaned down to look at them more clearly. “What is this?”

The wife of Oenomaus gently ran her fingers through her guest’s hair before saying, “What happened to me… it happened to this one as well. Her name is Diona.” 

Harry frowned at that information. “What would you like me to do about it?”

The body slave stared up into his eyes with steel in her resolve and said, “I don’t really know. My own mind was as shattered debris after Gannicus… but you spoke only a few words and brought me back to myself. You helped. I would see you at least try to help this one as well.”

“And how do you know that I can?”

“I don’t know, I just… believe.” 

“P-Please.” Diona wailed before pulling herself closer to her superior, seeking any comfort that she could. 

The wizard sighed, he’d never been able to resist crying women. “Very well, but I make no promises.” He hadn’t really needed to help Mellita so much as simply guide her to the right course of action, but this seemed like it would be a bit more difficult. “Diona, take my hand.” He instructed before waiting and watching as the girl nervously pulled away from her safe space to thread her fingers with his own through the bars. “Now, look into my eyes.” 

Mellita stared curiously on as he junior did so. She’d noticed over time that her Briton friend had a strange fixation on eye contact when he did things, be it fighting, interacting with people, or fucking in Gaia’s case. She wondered idly what that all was about. 

For his own part, Harry was disgusted by what he was seeing in the girl’s mind, far more than what he’d witnessed with Mellita’s assault. It seemed that Varus had come back to the villa once more while the men were away to ‘partake in the unique pleasures of the House of Batiatus’; except this time he’d arrived with a friend, a fellow noble with horrendously sick and twisted ideas of pleasure. He’d requested a virgin, and when Diona had been brought to him he’d also made a demand for a male slave covered in filth. They’d raped the girl together, violently, degrading her all the while and delighting in, in the noble’s words, showing her just how filthy she and the real world truly were. It was perhaps one of the most sickening things Harry had ever witnessed. 

Coming out of the trance he continued to hold the girl’s gaze, willing a hypnotic tense to it that kept her eyes locked onto his own as he addressed the other woman present. “Mellita, this just happened, didn’t it?”

“Yes. The dominus and his father returned shortly after and I brought her right here once I was able.”

“Good. Had she had time to stew on all that happened to her this would be much worse. She will need healing ointments and cream for bruises and tears. You or a friend must apply it and if at all possible keep her away from men for a while.”

The older woman nodded and replied, “I or her friend Naevia can handle the poultices, and I will assign her to the kitchens for the time being. The domina will understand. She was… displeased at the way her slave was handled.”

“Perfect.” Bringing his full attention to bear on the victim once more he invaded her mind in full and wound his will around the memories of her assault until he’d formed a spectral cage to control them. He couldn’t eliminate them from her memory, no matter how much he wanted to. As a practitioner of the mind arts he was not yet that skilled and he didn’t know how to do so without potentially impacting her psyche as a whole, but what he could do was control how much the recollection affected her at once. Instead of a massive stream of trauma hitting her like a lorry at speed, it was a trickle, slowly entering her synapses in a controlled manner and giving the girl the chance to come to terms with the rape at her own pace. In a sense, he’d taken the shock and awe out of the situation and dulled the impact. It still hurt, and she was no doubt still traumatized, but the poor girl was at least no longer catatonic. Being able to function once more was progress. 

Now it was time to handle the mental damage to her self-image that fucking noble had tried to implant in her. Still molding his will around her psyche he whispered for her ears alone, “That bastard lied to you, Diona. The world is not shit, and you most certainly are not either. You are beautiful, intelligent, strong, and what happened to you does not define you. The world can be beautiful if you allow it the time to reveal its splendor, and I promise you that if you just give it a chance, things will get better. You believe me, don’t you?”

The girl’s mouth was opening and closing as tears began to fall freely once more from wide open eyes. “I-I do. Why do I believe you?”

“Because I’m right.” Harry could hardly tell her he was influencing her emotions and working to mitigate her trauma from inside her head. First of all she wouldn’t believe him, second he had never worked with this much intricacy before and he was kinda flying by the seat of his pants. Most of all she believed him because the girl desperately wanted to. She wanted to believe that the noble had lied to her. She wanted to believe the world was not a place of shit and despair. And she wanted to believe that everything would eventually be okay again. 

“Good things will come if you let them. In the meantime you have your friends, you have Mellita, and now you have me. We will care for you, watch over you, and talk to you as long and as often as you need us. You are not alone.” 

“Thank you.” Tears of relief were falling in steady rivulets from Diona’s face as she repeated that word again and again and again. “Thank you!” “Thank you!” “Thank you!” 

As her fellow slave broke down once more, Mellita allowed herself a moment to believe that things might actually get better for the girl. And at the same time she found herself wondering once more just what power over people her trainee friend seemed to have. Everyone he met seemed to change for the better and she was curious who would be next.

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note: I learned recently that gladiators were classified into different categories by way of their weapons and armor and I just thought that was an interesting concept to include here.

Chapter Five - The Brotherhood

The group had piled into a set of ox drawn carts in the dawn hours and set off for the arena before most of the villa was awake. That being said, Harry had still managed to give the ever watching Gaia a flirtatious wink before joining the others. After a while though, the barriers of rank broke down from the boredom and the men, brothers and newbies alike, actually began to talk amongst each other. It was an interesting concept, being so cordial with men that might end up taking their lives going forward.

Soon enough though, Quintus opened the back flap and ordered Crixus out. The two were alone as the cart kept trundling on for an hour or so before he returned and Harry was called out in turn. As he left the cart and fell into a fast walk to keep pace with it he saw that he was alone with his dominus, while the man's father rode ahead with the ox driver.

"Dominus." He greeted.

"Harry." The Roman acknowledged him with a nod. "You show much potential in the practice yard, as does Crixus. Enough to earn even my father's approval; not an easy thing to do as life has so rudely taught me. Yet what you are about to face is far from the same thing. Stress on a whole other level, a crowd screaming for your blood, and an opponent who will not hesitate to kill you. This is your test to enter the Brotherhood and Barca will not allow a subpar man to be amongst its members. I wanted to make sure you felt confident about this before taking to the sands."

"You need not worry, Dominus, I will be a brother soon enough."

"I believe you." Batiatus was quiet for a while before he added, "I make it a habit of knowing the goals of my greatest warriors. It makes… incentivizing you all easier. Gannicus is rather base and straightforward in his desires. He craves fame, wine, and women. Oenomaus wanted honor. Crixus wants to be a champion without equal. But I cannot figure out what you want in this life. What are your goals, Briton? Or would you prefer Celt? We have both names for your people after all."

Harry didn't say anything other than, "Briton is fine, Dominus."

"I could order you to tell me."

The wizard sighed. "I do not think you would like the answer."

"Ah, you want freedom then." Quintus nodded, earning a shocked tilt of the head from his slave. "You think you're the first one I've had in my ludus? Many in your position want the same and I do not begrudge you that so long as you serve me well until then. After all, you wouldn't be the first gladiator to perform well enough to earn freedom and that would only shine favorably on my house and its training methods. However, I have to wonder what you would even do if you got it."

"Pardon, Dominus?"

Quintus offered a wry smile and elaborated. "If freedom came your way, what would you do with it? Do you have appreciable skills you could apply to an occupation other than fighting? Do you have contacts in the empire that could offer you a letter of recommendation? Do you have any gold set aside to support yourself?"

"Where is all of this going, Dominus?"

"A proposition." The thin man grinned, "Should you someday win your freedom, I would like you to remain under my roof and continue fighting for me. I would take a small fee from your earnings to continue paying for the training, food, facilities, and equipment, but the rest of the winnings would be yours to do with as you please."

"Why would I ever agree to that?"

"Several reasons, Briton." Quintus held up several fingers and began counting down. "First, you are one of the most naturally gifted fighters I've ever seen, and Oenomaus agrees with that assessment. We both suspect that once you get a taste of the arena you won't soon want it to end. Second, it takes gold to succeed at anything in life and you won't earn it for yourself until you are a free man. Third, even if you become free Crixus will still be mine, and I cannot see you leaving him alone while you take off to parts unknown. Fourth… Gaia remains in my house, and if you fought for me in that situation you would be able to support her, and court her, as a free man. One she wouldn't need to sneak into her rooms at night like a secret. You would have the full freedom of the villa."

Harry pointedly didn't react to that last statement, instead keeping his eyes locked on the road. "I-"

"You need not be bashful, Harry, nor attempt to deny it. Lucretia tells me everything that happens in our home."

"I am under no illusions, Dominus. What happens between me and Gaia is not love. Aye there is kindness and affection, but I am only a slave to her. Far below her rank."

"That may someday change." Quintus shook his head despairingly, "Try as I might I can't see myself getting rid of her anytime soon, seeing how fond of her my wife is, so who knows what might happen. Also, rank means less to Gaia than the ability to support her, trust me. Free gladiators can make a great deal of money with the right promotion; a trick I am rather good at. I'm only suggesting that you consider your future and 'all' the possibilities that it might hold for you."

They spoke for a while more of training, tips for the coming fight, and what to expect upon arrival, and then Harry was returned to the cart's interior to think more on what had just been said. It honestly annoyed him that it had taken that meeting to reveal a gaping hole in his plans for the future. The wizard had been so focused on the idea of freedom that he had indeed not even considered what he'd do with it once he had it. And the more he thought on that subject the more appeal Batiatus' offer held. The man wasn't wrong when he'd noted how limited the options were in the world for a man such as him at that time in history. In Rome anyone that wasn't Roman was already at a disadvantage. A former slave with no prospects was even more so.

He stayed consumed in his thoughts the rest of the ride to Capua and soon enough he and Crixus were armoring up and helping each other stretch as the crowd beyond their cells cheered on the early morning fighters. As it stood, Harry and his brother were clad remarkably different from each other.

Crixus fought in the style of a Myrmillo, with a curved sword, great rectangular shield, scaled arm guards, and a rather large brass helmet sat on his head. For his part Harry fought as a dimachaerus which meant he carried two swords and was bare chested, making use of arm and leg guards while his usual wrap covered his important bits. He'd been offered a plumed helmet but the warrior didn't like the limited field of view it gave him. In combat he couldn't afford to have that many chances to break eye contact.

As the time approached ten Oenomaus came to retrieve Harry first, offering him his swords and a few words of wisdom. "These are the words my doctore gave me for my first time in the arena. The sands will either make or break you. Live to defeat your opponent and you shall receive honor in your ludus as a member of the Brotherhood. Die and you shall instead honor the hallowed ground with your blood." The stomping of feet and wild calls above seemed to double in ardor and Oenomaus smiled at the Briton that had so easily become his friend. "They have just announced you, Harry, and the crowd is eager to see new blood fall, but I do not think that will be the case." He clasped his hands over the paler man's shoulders and confided, "I have presided over your training, seen the strength and speed you possess, and I know the honor that is in your heart." The hands raised to his head and pulled it forth to rest their foreheads together, "I want nothing more than to call you brother, so go and make it a reality."

"Yes, doctore." Harry smiled at his mentor and jogged over to the thick wooden door that led into the arena proper where he knocked twice and watched it open for him. Slowly coming into focus as a result was a wide open space of sand ringed by a high wall, and above it all was the screaming masses of Capua, each one raging and hollering in expectation of the carnage soon to come. As he readied himself and stepped upon the battlefield he took note of Barca already waiting, spear and small shield at the ready.

'Alright, Harry, remember what Oenomaus told you. Block out the rest and focus on the fighter set before you.' It wasn't easy though as the more progress he made stepping forth, the more people actually looked at him, and the more the jeers turned into interested cheers, and Harry had to admit that he rather enjoyed that. Never in his life had people actually cheered his name. Sure there was the tri-wizard tournament, but that didn't count in his opinion seeing as most of those people had been cursing him and calling him a cheater before that. He was a relative blank slate to these people.

He halted in the center and Barca made a few practice lunges and swings, waving him to do the same 'Ah, to give the crowd an idea what they're getting' and then they both halted to face the VIP stage where apparently Titus Batiatus had been given the honor of MC.

"People of Capua," The old man stood tall and addressed his people, practically radiating pride and joy to be doing so. "I stand here, humbled, before you all. My home and my heart, too long parted from chest by absence. In gratitude I present the next offering from the House of Batiatus. Entering newly into the arena, a virgin upon its sands, I give you… Harry of Britannia!" Interested clapping and cheering followed before Titus raised his hands once more. "And as for his opponent, here to test his mettle and find his worth, a veteran and warrior unmatched in skill and honor, I give you… Barca, God of the Spear!" This time the cheering was thunderous in intensity, and the Briton honestly couldn't blame them. His opponent was resplendent in his helmet and stage presence, waving his arms and driving the people into a frenzy.

It was as he watched his foe amp up the crowd work that the wizard remembered something he'd learned in his past classes and the brief snippets of movies he'd been able to glimpse over Dudley's shoulder between his chores. The greatest gladiators, the ones whose names were recorded throughout history, weren't the best fighters. No, they were the ones that drew in the crowds. The ones that could inspire them. If he wanted to earn his freedom then he needed to be the best, he needed the people to love him.

So with a practiced flip of the wrists he drove his swords point first into the ground, spread his arms wide, and bellowed, "Capua! I dedicate this fight to you!" This time he was the one with the thunderous applause, and Barca gave him a nod of respect before smacking his chest and reclaiming it for himself. Titus let them go back and forth a few moments before shushing everyone again.

"Capua, bless you all for bringing life into this old soul once more. Now to you brave men below, Begin!"

At once Harry locked eyes with Barca, went low, and charged in to mitigate the reach of the spear. His opponent was ready for this however and started using his weapon as a quarterstaff, turning, spinning, whipping, and doing everything in his power to nail the wizard with the hard wood of the haft. Having trained with the man enough, Harry knew that contact with such a blow would break bone at the least.

Only his practice at reading surface thoughts kept Harry away from the rapid blows and jabs as he ducked, weaved, and rolled to stay clear before hopping back and skipping across the sand like a boxer, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses as he did. He thought he remembered hearing about especially cocky fighters in his own time doing things like this and it seemed to have the desired effect as more and more people began cheering for him once more. Sadly this act took his eyes away from Barca and the man almost landed a spear slice before Harry noticed him in the knick of time and jumped out of the way.

From there he and the bigger man traded blows for a while. They clashed, butted heads (literally), and traded barbed words before Harry had enough and stared deep into Barca's eyes. It was time. In a blink the spearmen lunged with a low guard stab and Harry stepped aside, narrowly dodging to the eyes of the audience, before slamming one sword through the center of the weapon to nullify its threat and sitting the other tightly against his foe's neck and resting it there.

The big man stared wide eyed at his apparent defeat and started raising a hand for Missio, only for Harry to shake his head in the negative. While Barca stared questioningly at him the wizard slowly stepped away and tossed his swords aside before addressing the crowd. "Are you entertained!? I am not. This is a great man, a great opponent, and I can see that he has more fight in him still. Isn't that right, Barca?" He gestured grandly to the man and he stood back up thankfully, loudly agreeing with his junior.

So Harry turned to the entry door where he knew Oenomaus was watching. "We need caestus!"

A moment later the door opened and two sets of heavy leather wraps studded throughout with metal were sent tumbling out into the sand. So Harry ran over and tossed a set to Barca before hurriedly wrapping them around his wrists and knuckles and getting into a classic boxer's stance. In turn, Barca seemed to be favoring a wrestler's position. Body low, hands out front and ready to intercept any blows that came his way. Interesting, but futile.

Utilizing his greater mobility Harry danced around the man, baited a shot, and then surprised him by sending a kick directly into his ribs that had him tumbling into the ground before rolling up again. At his querying look the Briton said, "Just because I asked for caestus doesn't mean I'm only going to use 'them'". And seeming to get the message Barca lunged at him, gripped his waist and sent the smaller man tumbling to the ground, attempting to roll around and put him into a headlock only for Harry to slip out of his grip like an eel, grip the arm attempting to trap him, and lock his legs over Barca's torso, twisting hard. The big man screamed and let him go at once, backing away with a newly dislocated shoulder and one good arm raised to defend himself.

It was no use as Harry closed the distance and this time he did use the caestus, raining down body shots until all defense failed and the final finisher came with an uppercut that sent Barca flying back and crashing into the dirt. When the dust finally cleared the man was unconscious and Harry stood tall above him, raising his fists high and chanting "Victory!"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

The wizard absorbed the praise, the adulation, the thrill of dominance, and in spite of everything he'd expected, he loved it. The fight had been invigorating, the win glorious, but the crowd screaming his name in triumph was on a whole other level. It lit a fire inside him and by the gods he wanted more of it.

Meanwhile Quintus was looking down at his acquisition making the crowd his bitch and smiling like a loon as Lucretia held his arm and practically vibrated with joy. "You proved yourself right, husband. The people love him."

"Yes, and father sees it all." Quintus chuckled. "Now he cannot any longer deny that my methods are in fact effective and I can hold my own as a lannista. The man can return to Sicilia with confidence and our home will soon be under our control once more. As it should be."

Meanwhile Titus himself was having a completely different thought. 'This is rather impressive. Who knew Quintus had such potential in him to choose good stock? I think I will stick around and see what else he can do.'

A short time later Crixus defeated Auctus with admittedly less fanfare than his brother, but just as much skill, and he too proved his worth while leaving his opponent alive. The Batiatus ludus lost none of its number that day. A fact that clearly annoyed Tullius, if his pinched face up in the noble's box was anything to go by.

So it was that as night fell, and the warriors returned to the ludus, they all clustered together in the training sands with the other brothers gathered to observe as Quintus stoked a fire and heated a brand with a capital B to glowing red tinge as he addressed all those gathered. "Brothers of the ludus, today two amongst you have returned victorious, champions of their matches, and thus worthy to take on the brand."

"Awoo!" The men cheered.

"Yes, Harry and Crixus have proven their mettle and now there is but one step left to go." He looked to the men in question and said, "Kneel, and give your oaths to this house."

As one the Briton and the Gaul knelt and chanted, "I swear to be burned, chained, beaten, or die by the sword in pursuit of honor in the arena."

Quintus grinned, retrieved the brand and pressed it firmly into each of their right forearms before proclaiming loudly, "Welcome to the Brotherhood!" As he took his leave the lannista saw how the men swarmed the newcomers with many hugs and exclamations of welcome. It was a sight that always warmed something in him that he could not put a name to and it never got old.

Up on the landing above Lucretia and Gaia observed and the latter noted, "Harry proves himself once more. In and out of the arena." The tilt of her words at the end made her meaning apparent without need for much thought toward decryption.

"Gaia, you speak more and more of the man. Is he truly that impressive in bed that he must remain always on your mind?"

"Oh Lucy, you have no idea." Gaia purred before leaning closer to speak under her breath, "There is a trick he can do with his tongue. I don't know how he does it but I swear it vibrates so delightfully that oblivion calls within moments."

"T-That's so i-interesting, Gaia." Lucretia shivered from more than just the cold at the thought. One quickly brushed aside of course as it was improper to think of anyone but her husband that way. "B-But he is still only a slave."

"Yes, sadly. Otherwise he would be perfect."

Back down in the training yard Barca was the last to greet his new brothers and he took Harry aside for a moment alone. "You fought well, Harry, and you gave me the chance to show skill instead of defeating me in seconds as I now know you could. Gratitude."

"None is needed."

"And yet it is given." Barca clapped him on the shoulder. "I welcome you, brother." and he took his leave.

Nearby Harry could see Auctus doing the same with Crixus so he made his way over to the man. "Well, brother, we made it. We're officially gladiators now."

"I know." Crixus eyed his arm and winced as he ran a finger over the puckered and burned skin. "It still hardly feels real."

"Give it time and it will, I am sure. Now if you'll excuse me, Oenomaus is offering me a bowl of food over there and I think for once it'll be clean. See you in the morning, Crixus."

Meanwhile

Quintus hated being summoned to his father's office. It always felt like he was facing down a magistrate determined to levy a guilty verdict against him. A matter made worse considering that not even two weeks prior the office had been his own. Titus was waiting behind the desk, reading over a few reports by lamplight but put them down when he saw his son enter.

With a level stare he said, "Today I watched a pair of newcomers completely destroy two gladiators I considered among the best of my men. It was an… interesting experience, and it would appear that I underestimated Crixus, Harry, and your ability to spot quality talent where others miss it. For my doubt in you, I apologize."

Quintus was floored by this admission. His father never apologized for anything. Nevertheless he pulled himself together and responded, "You honor me, father."

"No," Titus waved him off, "you honor yourself when doing business cleared of plots and schemes. Do you see what can be achieved without them?"

Quintus stared his father down and took a moment to order his thoughts before answering. In another life he might have taken the opening and clear offer of reconciliation. He might have thought bridging the gap between them once more was more important than proving himself the correct one in this scenario, but that was not this life. No, here and now he had two potential champions that he had found, he had trained, and he had placed in the arena to the accompaniment of enough skill to even impress his dinosaur of a father. He had a right to his pride.

"No."

"Pardon?" Titus' eyes narrowed.

"No, the accolades of this day were all achieved because of my scheming and plotting." Quintus stepped up to the desk and rested his fists upon it, leaning over so he and his old man were nearly nose to nose. No longer would he assume the position of a cowed child before this man. "My urge to advance brought me to Harry and Crixus. My schemes brought Gannicus to the primus, and had you not interfered he'd have competed to the awe of Capua and won our house the greatest victory it had ever seen. You never cease critiquing me but the truth is I have done more to advance our house in but a few years than you have in your entire career, and you just can't accept it."

"You've truly learned nothing, have you?" Titus lamented.

"Nothing? I learned everything!" his son nearly roared, all of his pent up rage escaping at once. "I studied every lesson you ever gave, I sought out further instruction from Selonius, I attended every arena bout, and I kept our ludus afloat while you ran off to retire in Sicilia." Quintus was shaking with visible rage now, enough to shock even his father. "But nothing was ever good enough for you, was it, father? No expression of skill, no thoughts of change, no ideas for advancement personal, professional, or otherwise."

"You never wanted this life, Quintus." Titus leaned back, away from the vitriolic gaze of his son, trying to bring peace once more. "I was raised in the arena, watching the games upon my father's knee, but it never held the same light for you, I saw that."

"Was I not also raised upon your knee?" His son argued. "Did I not see the same things as you?"

"Did you?" Quintus asked. "You are prideful, headstrong, you fight me at every turn and your ambition is a bolt thrown against my wishes, and it could easily lead you to ruin." In a flash his hands shot up to cup his son's face. "I lost your mother, boy. Her sickness could not be helped by my hands, but your ambition could."

"So that is why you kept me at arms length? Why so few words of comfort or praise reached me that I thought I lived in eternal drought? It is why you stymied every idea I had to advance myself? By the gods, I wanted to perform my military service to gain combat experience and build meaningful connections, but you said nay so I turned from it. You commanded that I run the ludus in your absence, so I did and in the process abandoned prior desires and plans long since made impossible by the passage of time, but even now you curse my efforts. Only once have I ever explicitly denied your will, and that was to marry a woman who has never been anything but a loyal and true wife who has benefited me more in body and soul than any other match you put before me. Yet even now you cannot see you were wrong about Lucretia just as you have been wrong about everything else!"

"My son, everything I did I did out of love for you. You would not have survived the military, just as you would not have survived this feud you've created with good Tullius. Do you not see the danger you have placed us all in?"

"Then we are at an impasse." Quintus pulled free of him.

"An impasse? I am the paterfamilia, Quintus. My word is law here and I will enforce it."

"Yes, but what shall you do then? Stay here and rule directly? At the rate your health declined last time you'd last maybe two months before you're either in the ground or forced to remove yourself. Will you leave and return to retirement? I'll just keep running this place as I have been once you are gone. The only way to stop me would be to place someone else in charge, but that would disinherit your only son while also removing this ludus, the place we all know you value more than your family, from the lineage of the Batiatus line."

Titus glared stonily at his son for ten whole seconds before falling limply into his chair and staring at the floor. "Is this truly what has become of us, son? Is this who we are forced to be to each other?"

"It is who you are forcing us to become." Quintus shot back. "The world is changing, father. The arena is changing with it. We cannot stay as you were, we cannot fight as you did, and we cannot conduct business as it was run in the 'good old days' of your youth. We must adapt or die." Forcing himself to calm somewhat he added, "I can see the path forward and I can lead us upon it. More than anything I want you at my side, seeing the heights to which I can take us, but you need to trust me for that to happen."

Titus looked upon his son in that moment, and it was then that he saw what he'd always hoped the boy would become. A man, standing tall, proud, and certain of his path. He was even showing enough spine to finally stand up to him. It wasn't ideal with the mess he'd placed them in, but the boy was right. He didn't have a lot of options left and he refused to lose the ludus. "Fine. Then I would offer a wager."

Quintus blinked, "A wager?"

"You are certain that your way is the correct one? More than mine?"

"With every fiber of my being."

"And you are willing to risk all to support that supposition?"

"Of course."

"Then hear me now. In a short time I shall instigate a tournament amongst our fighters to see who the greatest amongst them is. With all the new blood a ranking seems in order. You show such faith in your warriors so if Crixus, Gannicus, and Harry make it to the top three, then I will allow you full control of this ludus once more. I will support your decisions in all things and watch on only as an observer." He stood and rounded the desk to look his son in the eyes. "However, should even one of them fail to place so high, then you will cease these plots of yours forever. You will fall in line behind me, and you will agree to sell Gannicus to Tullius so that we might ease tensions completely. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes." Quintus answered without hesitation and in spite of their circumstances, Titus found he was quite proud of the certainty his son was capable of mustering.

"Then I would suggest getting those men of yours prepared."

Meanwhile

Diona was healing. Slowly. And her new duties in the kitchen were helping in spades as they kept her hands busy and her mind focused on the present instead of the events of the past. Though, when she did think back on them they didn't hurt so much as they used to. The pain was there, but she could choose whether to feel it or not. The slave was just getting ready to start working on chopping some vegetables when there came a knocking on the door.

She looked around for a moment before approaching it and pulling open the viewing slide. There, waiting patiently for her, was her savior. "Harry!" She exclaimed before unlatching the lock and yanking open the door to embrace the man. "You came to visit!"

"Of course I did." Harry allowed himself to be held without touching the woman back, keeping his hands down and palms turned away. He figured it was better to let her set the pace and he wasn't sure male contact so soon after her trauma would be helpful. "I promised to talk to you as often as you like, and we're friends, so we should share the good things that happen to us as well as the bad."

"You have good things to talk about?" She asked.

"You could say that." Harry smirked as he raised his arm for her to see.

At once Diona's hand covered her mouth and she began to make a high pitched noise of delight. "You made it into the Brotherhood!"

"I did."

"Tell me everything."

"Only if you tell me about your new job. You seem to be liking it so far."

"Done."

"Also, I thought you might find a dream of mine interesting too."

"What was it about?"

"Well, my people had a habit of meditating to find their 'inner animal' and though it's taken me a while I finally know what mine is. Do you want to know what a black-maned lion looks like?"

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note : In case you didn’t see the change, Harry’s inner animal is a black-maned lion. The tiger was an early draft that missed my eye during the editing phase of the chapter. 

Note : Changing the order of events here so that the ranking happens earlier. I think it makes things flow a bit better and allows for certain changes I desire to occur more smoothly. 

Chapter Six - The Ranking

Harry was enjoying a rare moment to himself and watching the sunrise from his place sitting at the edge of the ludus ravine. He found an odd sort of peace there, at what felt like the edge of the world, just… breathing. The dominus and his father had returned to Capua for an early games exhibition that morning, leaving the gladiators with orders to rest before the coming house tournament. It wouldn’t do for the men to fight at anything other than top form. It would skew the results. Something else that gave warmth to his being was the new weight of coin in the pouch at his waist. It seemed that while the dominus took most of the match winnings and pay, the gladiators themselves too were given a small amount as well. Harry was given to understanding that most put their winnings toward wine or women, but some put it away to attempt to buy their freedom at a later time. It was an interesting concept as he’d expected to not receive anything at all for his labors. 

The young man was just getting ready to see about grabbing a late breakfast when the sand beside him stirred and another man took position beside him. When he failed to speak, Harry offered, “Gannicus, I welcome you, brother.”

“Aye, you are that now.” The house champion moved his head from side to side, taking in the vast expanse and depth of land and mountain crevasse alike before them. “You choose a strange place for respite.”

“I like the quiet. No one else appreciates spaces where they are this close to death.” 

“Makes you appreciate being alive all the more.” the champion nodded his understanding. Then he said no more. 

Now, Harry was a patient man, but even his patience had its limits. So after five minutes more he had to ask, “What brings you over here?”

“I… do not know. Not exactly.” Gannicus admitted. “Ever since what happened with me and Mellita, something has been… wrong, deep inside me. I find myself thinking things I shouldn’t, feeling things that are horrible, and both are open betrayals of Oenomaus and her. Yet I cannot stop them.” 

The wizard took a moment to look at the man in full, and saw a face full of worry and eyes sunken with lack of sleep. Something truly was stuck on his mind. A knowing suspicion began to build in him as he asked, “Why come to me with this?” 

Gannicus took a deep breath and let it out, eyes locked on the abyss below. “Oenomaus has spoken of how well you helped Mellita, and Mellita, well, she speaks often of how you helped her young friend Diona.” Slowly his face turned to lock eyes with him. “I was hoping you might help me as well. I know not how you do these things and I will not ask, but I am desperate.” 

“Yes, I can see that.” Harry thought about it for a moment and decided to agree. He cared about these people after all, and helping another did nothing to hurt him. “You said you will not ask how I do these things. Promise me.”

“I swear it.”

“Then look into my eyes.” The champion did so without pause, and within a few seconds Harry knew exactly what had brought the man to seek him out. The elder slave was plagued with dreams of Mellita. Sexual dreams of desire, want, affection, and what he thought had to be love. How wrong he was. Pulling out of the other man’s mind he reached over and took his hand. Harry had long grown used to the old world’s openness for male affection, and it was needed in this moment. 

“You fear that you love Mellita.” Gannicus’ shame at that statement was evident. “Do not fear, brother, what you feel is not love.”

“What?” The elder swordsman’s eyes shot back up to his own, and Harry had to force himself not to fall into his memories once more. It was getting a bit too easy these days. “How can it not be? I feel-”

“You feel shock, pain, and confusion. None of which are helped by how close you were to Mellita as a friend before the trauma.” Harry answered simply, squeezing the hand in his own before moving it to the other man’s shoulder. “Look, what happened to you was just as traumatic as what happened to her, and your mind is trying desperately to find a way to protect itself. You have convinced yourself that there is love between you and her, because the alternative, that you violated her, is too raw and painful to even consider. To accept that both of you were violated beyond measure is how you can move forward.”

Gannicus began to shiver under his palm, and Harry let him. Pointedly not looking at the way he scrunched up his face to try and power through the feelings rushing to the forefront of his being. 

“It was not your fault, Gannicus. I tell you the same thing now that I told her. You could not have refused the order and you both survived regardless of the pain experienced.” With his free hand he lifted the older man’s chin and stared into his eyes once more, layering his words with power and willing them deep into his subconscious where he hoped they would take root, “You are not in love with Mellita. You are, however, ashamed of what you’ve done. My advice is this. Go to her, but only speak to her with Oenomaus present so that your impulses do not take control. To them both give apology, and then embrace them as family as you once have before. Oenomaus as your brother, Mellita as your sister. They are the family of your heart and, no matter what else has occurred, that has not changed.”

Gannicus stared at the younger man with wide eyes and, voice trembling, said, “I-I could hear you. I-In my mind-”

“You swore not to ask how I do these things.”

“I… Yes, I did.” The swordsman gulped and looked away again before standing once more. “I think you are right, and I will do as you suggest. Thank you, Harry. I don’t know why but I feel… different somehow. Lighter.” 

“Perspective and clean mind will do that. Now go, before you change your mind.” 

The champion of the house did so, leaving Harry to finish his morning in peace once more. The afternoon, he knew, would be a whole other matter. 

Elsewhere

Lucretia carefully returned her ‘special’ honeyed wine to the farthest reaches of the kitchen shelves. Titus’ return had filled her with dread, and initially she’d resorted to using ‘it’ once more. The last time he had returned it had caused enough mimicked symptoms of sickness such as hard breathing and chest palpitations to make him seek drier and cleaner climates in Sicilia, thus leaving them in peace at last. Now, she had thought the need for its return was at hand. Yet the way her husband had spoken of his and his father’s last meeting had caused her to rethink certain plans. Perhaps… perhaps it would not be needed this time. Perhaps the old goat was finally on the course he always should have been. Seeing his son for the wonder of a man he truly was. The woman was a proud wife and could forgive almost anything except for the slighting of the man to whom she had given her heart. If Titus was indeed changing his tune then she supposed she could leave him his health for what little time he had left upon the earth. 

Lucretia gave the jar one last caress of her fingers before sliding all the other clean varieties back in front of it and took her leave, deciding that if the need returned then at least it would always be where she left it in the future. She never saw the confused young slave kneeling on the floor on the other side of the counter where she’d been cleaning a stain left behind by the cooks the night before. 

A Few Hours Later

The hour following lunch saw the ludus gladiators gathered in lines before the balcony to the villa where Titus and Quintus both stood shoulder to shoulder staring imperiously down upon them. 

The snap of a whip sounded and Oenomaus screamed out, “Gladiators! Attend!” 

“Batiatus!” “Batiatus!” “Batiatus!” The men cheered, until raised hands from the Romans settled them once more. 

Titus, as the paterfamilia, addressed all gathered. “Greetings on this day. Many of you are no doubt wondering why we have gathered you here instead of letting you progress with the day’s training. To that end, I give word to thoughts and say that we are to have a tournament. Each of you shall fight to determine your worth and status amongst your number. And to make it interesting, my son and I have decided on a little incentive.”

The two men shared a look and the elder gestured for the younger to take his turn as the speaker. They had argued about this for some time, with Titus having been of the opinion that the least skilled should be sold to the mines, but his son had argued that weakening their house in such a way in current times, with current troubles, was hardly wise. In the end, he had won out. Quintus placed a hand on the bannister to steady himself and proclaimed, “Any man who reaches position in the top three of the Brotherhood shall be granted any one boon they desire short of freedom or the full purse of their arena victories.” An excited rustle of murmurs started up amongst the men, and the lannistas let them continue for a few moments before shushing them once more. 

Quintus commanded, “Line up on either side of the sands. The doctore has your pairings and shall call you out to face them. Stand firm and fight with honor.”

And fight they did. Well, most of them did. Their early bouts went well, but no one was overly flashy. Then Asher ended up facing Barca, and even with a barely healed arm, the dark skinned spearman could plainly be seen to face no challenge from the Syrian. He dodged, struck, shielded, and humiliated every strike the shorter man sent his way, until at last he swept his legs out from under him to slam his body into the dirt before resting the wooden tip of his spear against his throat to end the bout. 

More time passed. Harry and Crixus each destroyed a couple of younger men, Gannicus easily bested a bald man with a sword and shield. Dagon surprised everyone by lasting six minutes against Auctus before falling beneath his spear as well. Then came a moment of interest as Crixus was called, but he and Harry had the same thought and they took the sand as one. 

Titus glared down at them and demanded, “What is the meaning of this.”

As was his way, Crixus gestured for Harry to do the talking. “Dominus, if this is indeed a contest to discover the best in this house, Crixus and I would both like to request a speedier resolution. By our count, we’ve each already won a bout, and three more must follow to show victory. However, that does not show you our true skill. We desire to fight all three of our next opponents at once. We save time, you see our true merit, and we gain our victory with no shouts of unfairness.”

In spite of himself the old man was actually interested by this new prospect. “You realize,” he called down, “that if you lose to any one of them then you will be at the bottom of your quartet?”

“We do, dominus, and we are willing to take that risk.” 

“Very well. Harry, you shall face Asher, Brexa, and Dagon. Crixus, you have Runo, Tiguna, and Alduin.” Titus made those choices purposefully, and beside him Quintus shrugged to show he’d understood why. 

Harry had already shown dominance over veterans of the ludus in his practice and arena performance so he was now to face three others of the new crowd instead, thus showing off more of his son’s purchases and their skills at once. Crixus, on the other hand, would be facing three branded brothers that the old man had purchased before leaving for retirement, meaning he’d be facing veterans instead of those he’d already gained experience practicing against. It was a chance to show if Harry’s abilities were an outlier, or if both were truly men of value. It was a disadvantage at both ends. 

At the doctore’s whip crack Harry took to the center of the sands and the two Syrians moved to stand at opposite ends from him while the third member took an equidistant position at the far end, forming a triangle. The formation forced the Briton to either face one way or rapidly turn to keep any one of them in his focus. Now that just wouldn’t do. At the dominus’s shout of, “Begin!” He moved. 

Uncoiling every fiber of muscle in his quads and calves at once he launched forth in a massive leap directly at Asher instead of waiting to be squashed between all of his foes at once. From the look on his rapidly approaching face it was a tactic the other man hadn’t seen coming, and he was slow to react. So, as Harry moved in low under the raised shield and shot up to smash his forehead into the Syrian’s nose, Harry allowed himself a moment of glee in his success. Yes, together they outnumbered him, but they’d crippled their advantage by moving to spaced out ends of the field. They’d given him the perfect chance to fight them one on one instead of a group, thus he held the real equal advantage.

As Asher rocked back from the blow, Harry lunged beneath his legs, gripped his ankles and tore his legs out from under him, planting him face first in the dirt before placing the tip of one weapon to his neck. To his credit, the goateed man had been attempting to slice at him, but he was simply too slow to connect. Once more Asher had shown himself more bark than bite in front of his Brothers. 

From the sidelines Oenomaus called out, “Asher is eliminated.” So Harry rolled away from the man and reclaimed his feet just in time to avoid a trident strike by Brexa. He was new to the weapon as the Batiatus duo had only recently decided to add it to their ranks, but as a trained spearman it wasn’t hard for the Greek man to figure it out. 

Of course Harry could see Dagon slowly moving forward as well, or at least slow to his enhanced senses, so he decided to make quick work of this opponent as well. Shocking everyone by the audacity of such an action he reared back and launched his left handed sword directly at his opponent’s face, forcing him to wildly wave his net up to knock it aside as the Briton raced to close the distance. Just as he made it in striking range Harry turned two fingers of his free hand down to the earth, and the trident that had been raised to block his strike dipped noticeably down toward the ground with the weight of the focused summoning charm. In that instant the sword tip struck true, passing through the now open guard, and stabbing painfully into Brexa’s kidney, doubling the man’s face down only to be impacted with an elbow strike that robbed him of all sense and sent his mind to oblivion. 

“Brexa is out!” Oenomaus declared, and was that a hint of pride in his voice?

Turning once more to take in the temporary battlefield, Harry expected his last opponent to already be rushing at him. A few seconds was more than enough time to reach a stationary target after all. Yet he noted that his third opponent had not yet closed the distance. Instead he had stayed back and watched as he waited in a ready position, observing how the Briton moved. Smart man, he’d chosen to wait and see instead of going off by the seat of his pants like the others. Or, in his case, the seat of his loincloth. It at least provided time to retrieve his dropped weapon. 

Up above Titus shook his head. “Another poor showing for Asher. He hasn’t shown good results in any of his fights.” The old man knew that his son had made prior use of the man, if not how he was used, so he was shocked when Quintus rubbed his chin in genuine thought and actually agreed with him!

“Yes, father, he is rather disappointing so far. Honestly, he showed great promise when he first came here, but his skills have sadly plateaued. Whereas Dagon has grown noticeably stronger, as shown by his earlier match. I wonder if perhaps he would serve us better as a quartermaster than a gladiator?”

“You seek to put him in charge of supplies?”

“The man I bought him from did say he had a head for numbers. And at this rate he would only die in the arena after a few fights, thus showing poor return on investment.”

“Hm.” Titus considered that and nodded. “That would save us the lost coin of selling him. Let’s give him one last match to test his metal and if he fails then that will be his new role.”

Down below they saw the Briton approaching the bigger Syrian and offering a few testing jabs and dodges to test the other man’s reflexes. “In contrast, your Briton is in prime form, as suggested.” He grudgingly admitted. The aged lannista could already see that he would win. Dagon was big and cautious, but he wasn’t quick. As shown by his wide swings that the younger man easily danced away from. Experience had taught him that the latter was better in most cases. “At least two of your top spots are assured by my guess.” Gannicus had chosen to fight all of his opponents in a row earlier in the day so he was already done and drinking in his cell once more. 

“As I said, I have faith in my men.” Quintus grinned as Harry sent Dagon staggering with a blow to the head before the big man got back behind his shield. “Now if only we could get them back into the games.” 

Titus allowed enough time to watch Harry slip beneath another wide swipe, twist his body fully, and slam both wooden blades into his opponent’s skull, knocking him soundly unconscious before saying, “I might have some ideas to that effect, but let us wait for the end of this tournament before giving voice to thought.” 

They didn’t have to wait long. Crixus’ opponents learned from their predecessors and stood shoulder to shoulder as the start was announced, moving steadily with shields locked. Crixus was shorter than them, a fact that led many to underestimate him, but he was also twice as wide as the average man, and they thought a combined presence would offer advantage. Against anyone else they might have been right. 

Setting his shield before him, the Gaul charged straight at them like a bull and shattered their formation like bowling pins, pushing one man flat to the sand, outright launching the second back, and laying a flurry of strikes harder than a hammer blow upon the last until his shield splintered along with the arm beneath, forcing him to fall to his knees and raise the Missio  on high. Leaving him there, Crixus turned on a dime and parried a wild blow from the restored second man before locking his shield arm with his own, dropping his sword, and punching him squarely in the face once, twice, thrice, and more until the doctore called a halt to the violence for fear of losing the man’s life. By then the third had reclaimed his feet just in time to dance back from the flat end on the Gauls shield as he used it as a blunt weapon. Instead of taking the time to reclaim his sword Crixus charged the last man relentlessly, giving him no time to rest or think until at last he stumbled over his sandals and Crixus dived low, sweeping him up at the legs in a classic wrestler’s lunge to fall upon the sands whereupon the two writhed and swung limbs to and fro as they grappled for dominance until at last the Gaul had him in an armbar that also forced surrender by way of Missio. Many at this point were thanking the gods that the elder Batiatus had reinstated the practice. 

As the next pair started up, Quintus stated, “Now that my men have reached your desired position, pray give voice to thought, for you’ve left expectant ears on the precipice of interest.” Indeed, with that many wins under their belts Harry, Crixus, and Gannicus were now undoubtedly the winners. 

Titus grumbled a bit at losing the wager, but his heart wasn’t truly in it. Honestly the old man was bursting with pride. It had always been his dream for his son to step up into his rightful place as the head of their family and finally he had done so. “Very well.” He gripped his son’s shoulder firmly, “Congratulations on your victory, son. My thought was thus: If you are still so invested in claiming ideal position in the games then we must somehow reclaim good Varus’ attention. If he backed you once he’d surely do so again. How did you do so before?”

Before Quintus could answer, Gaia entered with Lucretia on her arm and said, “We hosted him here and gave personal performance of the Batiatus wares. He was impressed and desired to see them in his games.”

“Yes.” Quintus admitted. “Though the man had strange tastes for what he wanted them to do.”

“Ah.” Titus' face turned grim. “He is one of ‘those’ types then.” He shuddered a bit before moving to claim a seat. The continued fighting below no longer interested him in light of this news. The top spots were assured after all and Oenomaus would inform him of the rest later. “I have heard of such practices from the luduses in Rome, but had long hoped never to see the like here in Capua, let alone my own house.”

Before Quintus could say something that would spoil the camaraderie that was finally starting to form between him and his father Gaia once more came to the rescue. “This ludus is far from the first in Capua.” She simpered easily, the words drawing the older man’s attention like a hawk.

“Explain.”

“I have it on good authority from the ladies of Capua that Vettius and good Selonius have been offering bull privileges of their gladiators for many moons now.” 

“What?” “What!” Both Batiatus men exclaimed. 

“It is true.” Gaia continued. “And in my time in Rome I heard of countless similar arrangements in the arenas of the great coliseum, Morocco, Anatolia, and Nimes. It had become something of a norm, if only available to the highest of the nobility who can afford the privilege. It is a market that cannot be avoided if you wish to avoid falling behind the others.”

Titus opened and closed his mouth for several moments before sighing as his firm gaze returned to his son. “Again you have proven me wrong, son. It seems that you were right that my ways are no longer those of the modern lannista.”

“They still hold some merit, as shown by Oenomaus.” Quintus acknowledged. “But what has worked before might work again.”

“Indeed.” Lucretia nodded, pointedly only looking at her husband. Yes, things with his father were getting better, but the old goat never missed a chance to snub her for failing to provide her husband with a son. It was the most important duty of a wife in his opinion and to his mind she had failed miserably. “In fact, Gaia and I actually ran into a noble from Rome named Petronius, who is apparently a close friend to good Varus, in the town earlier today and he expressed an interest in a repeat performance. In fact, he implied that many of his friends would also be interested, and willing to offer gold and favors in payment.”

Gaia added, “He leaves for Rome again in two days so decision must be offered and conveyed soon.” 

All eyes turned to Titus at that, and he in turn pointed to his son. “I do not like this, but I am a man of my word, Quintus. The ludus and its command are yours now, as are decisions for its future. That said, I am not inclined to see such debauchery with my own eyes.”

“Then accept well meant compromise.” Quintus suggested before pouring his father a glass of honeyed wine. “Take a trip to Neapolis and invite Selonius to accompany you. You can enjoy the wine, peruse potential slave purchases, and enjoy the sea breeze. Meanwhile the three of us shall play host to Petronius and his friends and his friends. By this hour two nights hence we shall again be placed in honored position in the games of the new arena, Tullius be damned.” 

Titus nodded. “Such compromise sounds full of good thought. It will be a good chance to catch up with my old friend, and see a town from my youth. I agree.” 

“Excellent.” Quintus grinned while nodding to a knowingly smirking Gaia. She was the perfect person to set up everything that was needed. 

Later That Night

Harry, Crixus, and Gannicus were gathered in a line in the villa waiting for the dominus to come see them. The latter was noticeably more well rested and at ease. And small wonder, after the tournament’s end he and Oenomaus had spent an hour sequestered in his cell before the two of them had meandered off to the iron door that led to the rest of the villa; no doubt to speak to Mellita. The champion had seemingly taken his advice and it was doing wonders for him. 

They weren’t waiting long before Quintus, Lucretia, and Gaia approached them. “Well, my victors,” The dominus said with a wide smile. “A promise is a promise. What boon would you ask of me?”

Gannicus spoke first. “I just want to fight in the primus.” 

“Then we’ll make sure it happens.” The dominus laughed. “Our plan for that is already in the works. Crixus?” 

The Gaul nervously shared a look with Harry before voicing thought to a desire that had been steadily growing over the past months. There had been a certain slave girl bringing wine to the domina on the villa balcony that had caught his eye. “The slave girl, Naevia…” he began, “I would like permission to court her.” He turned to Harry and asked, “Did I say that right?”

“Yes, Crixus.” 

Crixus smiled and turned back to his master to await the response. 

“That’s it?” Quintus blinked. “You want to romance a fellow slave?”

“Yes. I have seen Oenomaus’ happiness with Mellita and I would like to try for my own.”

“I’ll have her brought down to the cell door every night so you might converse.” Lucretia promised. 

“Gratitude.”

“Now Harry, what about you?” Quintus grinned at the man he viewed as his most fortuitous find. 

For his part, Harry had spent the last few moments perusing the lannista’s mind and taking in the plans he had for his slaves to impress his noble contact. His wish became clear after seeing all of that. “I want Diona.” 

“Eh?” Quintus raised a brow. 

“The slave girl, Diona. I want her. Completely. And I want your assurance that no other man will ever touch her.”

The dominus let out a soulful laugh, “My, my, Harry, I was right when I bought you, you are indeed a beast. Done. The cell next to Oenomeus is currently empty. I will set up a pair of pallets there for you and Crixus and when Mellita comes to see your doctore she will be instructed to bring Diona with her. If things progress well with Naevia she can go as well in the future.”

“And she will be exclusively mine?”

“I am a man of my word.”

Harry searched his mind for any lie and found none. The dominus was already working through who best to replace the girl with in the coming festivities. “Gratitude.” 

“Good, then that is all taken care of. I like rewarding those of great skill.” Batiatus said easily. “Now get back below and enjoy that new cell of yours. Tomorrow there will be great need for you and the others to be of full rest and virile energy.”  

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note: The setup for what originally happened to Gaia in the show always felt a bit forced to me. All of that crap with Tullius in the past and she just goes off alone with him like nothing? I think not.

Chapter Seven - A Party And A Murder

If Harry had to describe the party of epic proportions he was currently standing along one wall of in one word, he’d have used ‘bacchanalia’. It was an epic expanse of food, wine, flesh, and erotic couplings of every variety and the nobility that had come to visit was partaking in every little bit of it. Honestly, Harry was more glad than ever he’d gotten Diona out of this as Batiatus' first declaration to his guests was that every one of his slaves present was fair game for use. To that end, it seemed Lucretia had seen fit to see Mellita safe in the kitchens as well, as the body slave was currently absent the festivities while her husband stood proud to make sure his men did nothing they were not directed to. Already Crixus and Gannicus had been taken aside by salacious women and more than a few were eyeing the rest. By this point of course Harry too had already satisfied three women with tongue and cock, and only Gaia’s knowing presence had halted the advancement of some of the men. The woman herself had claimed his first pairing of the night, and now was walking the event arm in arm with the mistress of the house while Quintus entertained what menfolk were not currently rutting. 

Now all those currently available were lined up, waiting to be taken aside, and one man in particular was stopped in front of Asher and Dagon and examining them both a little too closely. Stopping in front of the bigger of the two, the man stated, “My, you are an imposing brute.Tell me, giant, where do your ‘tastes’ lie? Toward man or woman?” 

Harry wasn’t so far away that he did not hear Asher explain, “Apologies, but he does not speak the Roman tongue.”

The man turned to address Asher then and asked, “Are you able then to form words to intent so that he may understand?” 

“I live to serve.”

“Good. I do not seek struggle or complaint. Will this man submit to all I ask for?” 

With his gift for tongues, Harry heard Asher convey false words to send his compatriot into the arms of the man, no doubt in retaliation for showing him up in the sands so thoroughly during their tournament, and the wizard simply could not allow that. For one, asshole or not, he liked Dagon more. The man could actually back up his boasting with strength. 

So, forming his words in the odd language carefully, he called to the man. “ Dagon .” When the giant turned to him he explained, “Asher is attempting to sell your ass to that man.”

Dagon’s head shot around to the shocked Asher and in a flash he shot his own down and headbutted the shorter man, knocking him to the ground, and flustering the guest into fleeing before turning back to the Briton. “ Gratitude .” He grudgingly said before looking forward once more. “Someday I will repay you.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

Any further conversation was stopped then as two things happened in quick succession. First, of all the potential people that could attend this event, Tullius showed himself. The blonde entrepreneur, and thorn in the side of Quintus, arrived with much loud gloating and sarcastic ‘praise’ for the house of Batiatus, before snatching a slave girl by the arm and dragging her off to much laughing from the gathered nobles.

Second, Lucretia arrived with over two and a half dozen masks depicting the roman gods and various beasts, and inspired the guests to donn them and thus live out their carnal fantasies without fear of reprisal or recognition. It was a poor excuse, but the guests took to it like the sweetest of wine, and soon the sounds of the vast space were filled to bursting with rejuvinated grunts, cries, and screams of passion. 

Harry, however, was not party to this new impetus as Quintus soon broke from the crowd to reach his side, dragging him off into a nearby hallway to speak alone. “Did you see that bastard, Tullius?” The lannista snarled, clearly enraged by the interruption to his great plan.

“The man was kind of hard to miss, dominus.”

“Sadly that is so. He claims publicly to only be here to enjoy my wares like all the others, but I do not trust that snake further than I can piss off my cliff face.” Looking both ways warily, he leaned in to whisper in his slave’s ear, “I give you leave to refuse any further requests this night and charge you with following Tullius’s every move. If he starts trouble in any way, then handle it.”

Just as quietly, Harry sought clarification. “Just so I’m clear, when you say to handle it…”

“Crush skull to stone if you must, but do it where none may see.” The Roman practically snarled, so great was his contempt for the man in question. “He cannot be allowed to ruin what I have fought so hard to create this night. Am I understood?”

“Yes, dominus.” Harry nodded to the man, and only after he took his leave did the wizard slowly move out once more into the open chamber. Only this time, he decided to try something new. He’d been experimenting for a while now with the spells he remembered, and found with his many months of mental preparation that he was capable of casting most of them already to some effect or other wandlessly. In this case, he willed a Notice-Me-Not into effect, and grinned devilishly at the way the partygoers eyes seemed to glance off of him as if he were not even there. Of course, the multitude of distractions of the flesh no doubt aided in that effect, but he’d take what he could get. It was also a perfect time to practice embedding ideas through eye contact, a trick made easy when people had no idea what they were looking at. Oh the fun. 

Tullius was not hard to find, even with the mask he’d donned like so many others. His blonde hair, curled in the Roman style, was impossible to miss as there were so few of the coloring present. He finished with his slave girl rather quickly and simply… meandered for a while. Showing his face to some, laughing with others, and generally making a nuisance of himself in his own way. After a while it became clear that he was trying to ingratiate his name with everyone’s memories of the night, striking fond nostalgia on him for when he should meet any of them again. Opportunistic bastard. 

However, things changed when the man spotted Gaia and Lucretia laughing heartily together by the nearest balcony where they’d gone to get some fresh air. His gaze grew stormy with rage and so Harry tried to meet it, but he was too far away on the other side of the gathering to make anything out. Tullius had proved remarkably paranoid with how often he panned the room so that was the closest he’d been able to get while following him discreetly.  Then Gaia moved off, making a gesture with her goblet that implied a refill with Tullius suddenly changing direction to follow on her heels.

Of course Harry didn’t like the look of that at all and he tried to cross the distance to intercept him, but the guests kept moving right in his path, and due to his position he couldn’t just push them out of the way. No, he needed to politely either wait for them to pass or move around them. All to the point that when he finally reached the position that Tullius had just been in, it was to witness Gaia turning a corner towards one of the private rooms with the man himself power walking after her. No doubt the amorous socialite had seen a couple doing something interesting and deigned to watch through cracks in the doors as was her habit. It was a practice that was going to get her killed one of these days. 

It only took twenty or so seconds for Harry to weave through the crowd once more and reach the hall, but when he did it wasn’t hard to figure out where his two targets had run off to. The private hall was full of grunts and screams, but to his keen ears only one set was of actual fear. As was the severity of the smacking sounds emanating from the last room’s door. 

He needn’t have bothered to check for bystanders seeing as most available attention was focused primarily on the main action, but he still took one moment to look around, verify he was alone, and then charge shoulder first into the door. 

The portal splintered open before his assault and he stumbled into a horrendous sight. Gaia was on the floor, bleeding from both her nose and a gash on her forehead, weeping and screaming as Tullius sat astride her waist and yelled obscenities and terrible names alike as he rained down blows upon her ribs and face. 

Harry didn’t even stop to think about what he was about to do. Without pausing to announce his presence he ran across the floor, tackled the bastard to the ground, wrapped an arm around his throat, braced it with his other hand and wrenched it hard to the side until he heard a loud pop. Only then did he release his target and he actually laughed as it twitched in place for several seconds until falling still. A few seconds of fingertip pressure on the neck to make sure he was really dead and then he ran to a frantic Gaia’s side. 

“W-W-What? Harry? Did-Did you just-”

“Easy, Gaia, easy.” The wizard pulled the sobbing woman into his chest, spelled the door closed with a force of will, and held her as she cried. While the woman broke down he performed a gentle examination of her body and found three broken ribs, over a dozen growing bruises, and of course the bleeding gash on her forehead that was likely from a deflected knuckle when her head turned off a blow. Most importantly, none of her wounds were life threatening. 

His attention was brought back to the woman as she suddenly spoke up. “He c-came out of n-nowhere.” She sniffled. “I wanted t-to watch some of the c-couples, but he s-shoved me in here, knocked m-me down, and s-started to h-hit me.” She began to shake even more, “H-He called me a w-wanton w-whore who didn’t deserve this k-kind of company. T-That my d-death in the h-house during the party would s-sour Quintus’ name for all time.” 

“And it probably would have.” Harry acknowledged. “Which is why I need to get rid of his body. Will you be alright if I get up for a minute to take care of it?”

“O-Only if you p-promise to come back.” 

“Of course I will.” Harry caressed her face and kissed her head, uncaring of the blood that drenched his lips as a result. Then he gently leaned back and pulled away to move to the fresh corpse. What to do, what to do. The man’s neck was wrenched at a completely impossible angle, and the window outside was open… perfect. Lifting with his legs and clenching his core, the wizard lobbed Tullius onto his shoulder, shuffled over to the window, glanced down to make sure it overlooked the massive ravine, and then tossed it over the edge like a sack of potatoes. There came three thumps of sound and then nothing for several seconds until a dull splash announced the final arrival much farther below. 

With a mental nod given to a job well done he rushed back to Gaia and pulled her once more into his arms, simply rocking her through the pain of what had to be the worst assault of her life. Medical magic had never been his forte, but he did use a silent episkey to clean and close the forehead wound before kissing it to ease. 

Time began to blur, and Harry wasn’t sure how long the two of them were alone before anyone came to check on them, but it must have been a while as many of the background sounds had quieted by the time the door opened once more, this time to allow entry for Lucretia, who was no doubt searching for her wayward friend. She gasped and rushed to pull said woman from his grasp and into her own the moment her eyes came upon her. “What happened?”

“Tullius. He’s been dealt with.” He answered simply. 

“Gratitude.” She emphatically gave back as she combed her fingers through her still emotional friend’s hair. “The festivities beyond are wearing easily down. I give you leave to return to your cell below ahead of weary comrades. In the morning the dominus will have need of your explanation.”

“Understood, domina.” Harry stood warily, nodded to a still wide eyed Gaia, and took his leave, sticking close to the walls to avoid the few continuing revelers until he made his way into the villa proper, and from there to the kitchens. His mistress had not said he could not stop in to check on Diona after all. Plus it was on the way to the cells below. 

Stopping to knock on the door he was only waiting a second before it opened and Mellita was hugging him dearly and letting him inside where the pair of Diona and Naevia were both sipping at some sweet wine It did him good to see them safe, though the way the former ducked her head had him a bit worried. 

“Diona?” He queried as he moved over and knelt before her. “Is everything alright?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, so he gently took her chin and turned it toward him so he could see her eyes. “Tell me.”

“T-The mistress informed me that I was to be given to you and-”

“And you thought something cruel? Do you truly believe I would misuse you so?” 

“No!” She exclaimed at once before the nerves came back. “I only-”

“Couldn’t help remembering what happened the last time you were ‘given’ to someone?” He guessed. Her guilty nod was answer enough. “Diona, I asked to have you from the dominus ‘because’ of what happened to you. Surely you know what is happening above us, the way the slaves are being carted out and passed around. I did not want that for you, so I asked to have sole access to you. Now you’re safe from being hurt that way ever again.” With a smile he grazed her cheek with a finger and tok one of the empty seats to pour himself a glass of wine. “I promise to never abuse or hurt you, Diona. I only want the best for you and to make you happy.”

“You have made me happy, Harry.”

“Then I’m glad. Now, what were you three talking about before I walked in?” He grinned conspiratorially, “Gossip, perchance?”

The way the others all smiled back told him he’d hit the nail right on the head. “Well,” Mellita spoke in the same tone,  “we were just discussing the mystery jar the domina has hidden in the pantry shelves.”

“Mystery jar, eh? Tell me more.” 

The Next Morning

True to the domina’s prediction Harry was indeed summoned to see the dominus, but instead of an interrogation he was met with a wide smile and a bottle of wine offered to share. “Fucking Tullius gone from the world and with him all my greatest woes!” He cheered before insisting that the gladiator take a drink. “I must admit, I’d not thought idle words on my part would earn such result, but you could not have timed it sooner. Everyone saw him heading to the private rooms, and with another exit around that hall corner they all assumed he left my grounds of his own volition.”

“He did leave, dominus, only out that window rather than the door.” 

“Cheers to that!” Quintus grabbed the bottle and downed a healthy gulp before laughing once more and moving out to the balcony and spitting over the side. “May this thought reach fucking corpse down below. You, Harry, have served me well and I’ll not forget it.”

“I shall hold you to that, dominus. But what happens now?”

“The future, Harry, that is what.” The slavemaster spoke. “First, the games. I have the authority of several promises backing me to place my top men in the primus of the arena’s games and you shall be amongst them. Then, I deal with Vettius.”

“What of Vettius?” Harry didn’t know much about the man other than that his Brothers thought his stock of fighters were all overhyped piss brains. 

“He is an incorrigible little shit that has managed to piss off every major lannista and merchant in Capua. The boy is entitled and has run his mouth on more than once occasion, all with the name of Tullius on his tongue as a patron to keep him safe. Now that he is gone, the boy is alone and surrounded by fiends, admittedly like myself, that would like nothing more than to see him buried. He will need to flee capua, but that takes money he does not have, so I will arrange to purchase half of his current stock.”

“Why only half?”

“I cannot afford the full bit, but I’m sure my friend Selonius will jump at the chance to take the other half. Once he is made aware of the opportunity of course.” As the man sipped once more from the bottle, Harry met his eyes and actually found himself impressed by what he saw there. 

“You already sent an offer to Vettius with chosen names.”

Quintus raised a brow. “My, you are perceptive. Yes indeed, I’ve had my eye on a few prime members of Vettius’ stable for a while now and since Tullius always announced himself wherever he traveled, lack of such bombastic word is noticed, and news has already spread about his disappearance. Vettius is no doubt running around like a chicken absent head, and the man I sent was weighed with a bag of silver and a list my demands. By the time Selonius arrives to pick up the rest I’ll already have the cream of the crop titled under my name as they fight in the primus.”

“Bringing more gold to you for still allowing them to participate.”

“Indeed.” 

“But what is the primus?”

“As you may have heard, it is the pinnacle event, the crowning matchup to end the games, the one that the people talk about even years after the fact. To fight in it is to be memorialized, and according to good Varus, it shall be a melee between my men and what were once Vettius’ men. Last night he confirmed it, as he was only too happy to have me back, and he liked the idea of two ludus’s battling it out in front of the crowd.

“Too bad he couldn’t have known about your new purchase. So no matter what, you earn the victory purse.”

“Exactly. It is hardly my fault that Tullius cashed favor upon favor to put his little whelp’s men in the primus. Nor is it my fault that it is too late to move them or notify anyone of my purchase. The primus is in two days after all. Though it shant all be for show. The men Selonius purchases will have a chance to win accolades as well if they prove strong enough.”

“Will not your friend be angered by this blockage on your part?”

“Perhaps, but it is only good business. I am sure he will see that with enough time, and he will still gain in number and prestige regardless.” Quintus waved off the concern. 

“Your men or not, I will be fighting to win, which means men will die.”

“I’m a lannista, Harry, I am always prepared to lose men in the arena. Do as you will and provided you put on a good show you’ll see no complaint from me.” 

“You are a cunning man, dominus.”

“Yet you are of similar quality of mind, I think.” Quintus’ shrewd gaze locked once more onto that of the younger man. “The beast within you is a keen one. I can see that, and I can make use it.” He gestured to the pit below the balcony upon which they stood. “I reward greatness in all forms, Harry, remember that. Now what would you have of me for what you did last night?”

The wizard thought about it, and then shook his head. “Pardon, dominus, but at the moment I do not need anything. Might I hold onto this favor and cash it at a later date?”

“Of course. Just wait, Harry. Soon enough this house will rise to the heights of the heavens, and our wealth shall flow like the river. Perhaps we might even reach the level of Crassus himself!” 

“Crassus?” Harry questioned, the name tickling a nerve in his brain, drawing forth a pair of memories from his youth. One from his time in primary school, and the other… from Hermione. His first love had adored history. “Marcus Crassus? The richest man in Rome?”

“Aye? Do you know of him?”

“Only vaguely, dominus. When I was made a slave I heard the Roman officers speak of him in passing.” He lied, the possibilities of this new revelation making his head spin. “May I head back below? I would practice a bit with Crixus. Wouldn’t want my skills to be rusty before the big event.”

“Indeed not.” Quintus clapped him on the shoulder and waved him off to do as he would. 

As he went, Harry started to piece some things together. Things he’d heard, things he’d seen, stories he’d picked up from the guards and Gaia’s memories. Crassus existed in this time, Rome was still a Republic, and there had not yet been a massive slave rebellion. That meant one thing. Spartacus. He was coming. Change was definitely going to be coming with him. And with change came opportunities…. Of course none would matter if he was not free to take advantage of them. Luckily he had some ideas to that effect. All that remained was to bide his time and plant the right ideas in the right heads. Much as he had the night before with many of the noble men including Varus himself. Wasn’t it nice what one could get up to when forced to stand and wait for long stretches of time? Legilimency sure was fun. Mwahahahahahaha. 

Crixus was indeed waiting below and as they started stretching out on the sands he became ecstatic at the news that the primus was coming their way. As a member of the top three it was a guarantee that he would be amongst those entered. The rest of the gladiators were still thoroughly exhausted from the night before but Oenomaus and Gannicus were up soon enough and they too joined in on the fun. They ran together, exercised together, and eventually ended up sparring, much to the anger of many of the hungover Brothers annoyed by the loud sounds of wood impacting wood. They did not care though. 

The primus was coming and with it glory. They needed only to reach out and take it. 

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Note : This chapter will take us to the end of the prequel season. From there there is a five year time skip in the actual show continuity to take it to season one of the Spartacus show. I’m planning on doing the same thing I did for Lord of Night to fill that time. A few short chapters to show what Harry is getting up to between the time after this chapter and when the first season starts. Just getting that out there now to avoid confusion. 

Chapter Eight - The Primus

Harry and Crixus sat together behind the arena door, simply listening to the cheers of the crowd above. The entire ludus had been packed up at dawn and carted off to Capua to get ready for the games. It had been a day of endless battle as the Batiatus gladiators, having gained full appreciation from the nobles at their party, were given prime showing and featured in one on one battles all throughout the day. Enough so that many had earned a fair bit of coin to spend as they would later on. 

Auctus had beaten another ludus’ trident wielder. Barca had clobbered a murmillo like it was nothing. Even Dagan had knocked down a former Vettius man and taken his head to the roar of the crowd. Honestly, the only member of their Brotherhood that hadn’t had a great showing was Asher. The braggart had gone out onto the sands at around eight in the morning, screaming his own name and trying to get the people to chant it with him. Then his opponent, an ax wielding Thracien, had disarmed him in moments and thoroughly whipped him so badly that Varus had called the match from his place in the high box just to move things along and give his people something truly entertaining to watch instead. Sadly, he didn’t call it fast enough to save Asher's leg from a back chop with the ax that shattered his ankle. Even now the Syrian was recuperating in the medica tent. 

As more and more matches went by, the wizard found himself reminiscing about the rather eventful night he’d had before the stable of gladiators had been sent out. 

The Night Before

It had been only a little over two weeks since the events of the party, and the big event that had the whole of Capua enthralled was set to begin on the morrow. Already days of games and gladiatorial bouts had taken place to wet the appetite, but the primus was what it was really all about. The biggest of all the spectacles, and only on the rarest of occasions was such a showing presented. As such, the big names of the school were taking it easy and resting their muscles for the exertion that was sure to follow. 

Harry was laid back in his cell with Crixus and Gannicus as they discussed what they might face when there was a knock on the door. Of course they answered it and beheld Mellita. As Gannicus warily smiled at her and shared a comforting nod of greeting, Harry asked, “Gaia?”

“Yes.” The woman turned to address him directly. “Though… she seemed different this night.”

“I would guess she would.” The wizard acknowledged. “After what happened anyone would be. Well, lead the way.” 

And so once more, as so many times before, Harry was led on through the villa, washed, and then presented to the noblewoman’s door. Only this time it opened before he could knock, and without a second to lose he found himself pulled by the arm and bustled inside. Strangely enough, all of the lamps were covered, and as he turned to behold Gaia in the low moonlight he saw that she was wearing a thin veil over the bottom half of her face. 

“Hey,” He gently reached up and ran a finger over the silky material. “What is this?”

“I-I…” She sighed. “I wanted to look beautiful for you, but the bruises have not quite-” Her words were cut off as Harry gently added his other hand and pulled the piece of fabric free, displaying the green shadow of bruises on her cheeks and forehead that were almost, but not quite, healed. 

“You’re beautiful no matter what, Gaia.” The gladiator gently kissed each bruise, one by one, and willed some measure of power into every point of contact. He was playing a hunch and wanted to see if it would pay off. He supposed if Gaia came to the games the next day without the veil then he’d know for sure. “How do you want me this evening?”

“On the bed.” She took his hand in her own and led him forth before gesturing for him to lay on his back, head propped up on her pillow. “Tonight is all about you.” She said demurely as she let her thin robe fall away. “After what you have done for me, you deserve a little pampering.” 

***    Lemon Start     ****

And so saying, the woman crawled up both the bed and his body, pausing briefly between his legs to pull his wrap free before placing her hands upon his already more than willing manhood. “I’m also a bit too sore yet for our usual style of play.” Then she lowered down and set her mouth to work. For five minutes she lathered his pole with her tongue and saliva, soaking him with the evidence of just how much his actions had meant to her. Through it all she displayed such skill as to make the man groan her name near constantly as his fingers bunched over the sheets to try and stave off a far too early end. 

Eventually, though, she spared him that embarrassment by relieving his cock of her sinfully long tongue and shuffling up until she was hovering over him, literally dripping with her desire. They both groaned with delight as she sank down upon him. So long had it been since he’d seen her face by then, that it was only there as they looked into each other’s eyes that Harry noticed that Gaia was crying.

“Gaia?” He reached up to touch her face, but she just took hold of his arm and shoved it down onto the mattress while also grabbing the other as she began violently rocking her hips, effectively pinning him down. “Gaia?” He repeated, but she merely kept her eyes shut tight and ramped up her speed even more. “Gaia!” This time he ripped his arms free, placed his hands on her hips to halt her motion, and sat up, pressing their chests flush with each other and leaving their heads at a level. 

She still wouldn’t open her eyes. “Gaia, please, look at me.” Her painted lids slowly rose and red eyes met his own. “What’s wrong? Why are you really doing this?” He could clearly see that something was disturbing her, and a brief survey of her thoughts helped him to understand exactly what, but he wanted to hear her say it. “At least tell me I’m not hurting your ribs.”

“No, it isn’t that.” She muttered at last, taking her hands and resting them on his shoulders. “I just… I just want to feel good. I want to know that I ‘can’ feel good again.” She bit her lip. “I’ve teased, and fawned, and I’ve always been alright, but when Tullius came after me… “I’d made some unflattering comments about him in the past and he spat them back in my face while he hit me. I thought I was going to die. No, I knew I was going to die, and what had I left behind? The only one that truly cares about me is Lucretia, but she’d get over my loss eventually; and ever since it happened all the things that gave me joy or laughter, they’ve fallen flat. I’m in purgatory, Harry, and sex was the last thing I had not tried to pull me out of it. 

Slowly, sensually, she rocked her hips delightfully in his lap, “And against all odds I think it’s working. I feel warm with you like I never have with Lucretia. I somehow know I’m safe with you for the first time in two weeks and, though it still hurts to move, all I want to do is keep rocking above you. Do you understand, Harry? You’re making me ‘ feel’ again!” A smile grew as she beheld the audible gasp her actions caused. “You saved my life, Harry. I’m only here now because of you; because a slave stood up to a free man to defend my existence. I’ve had daliances before, and lovers aplenty, but none have ever defended my person or shown they cared for me even a fraction of the way you have. I… I don’t know how else I can show you what that means to me, but I’m going to try.” Her lips fell to his own for several moments and she began clenching her kegels along his length, then she said, “I’m yours, gladiator. I don’t know how that is going to work or how to explain it going forward, but never doubt that I am yours.”

Harry mused that Quintus had indeed been right. Status didn’t really mean that much to Gaia after all. Gently he moved his hands to raise her up and set her down again, earning a gasp for his efforts and a laugh from his own throat. “I’ll be here as long as you need and want me.” She promised. Looking into her eyes he knew she meant it, and he knew that such feelings of attachment were new to her. The trauma of her assault had shaken her dearly and in her fragile state Gaia had latched onto the first sign of comfort she’d received. That being him. Well, he’d be a fool to turn her away, and he was very fond of her. 

Letting her set the pace he peppered her chest and neck with kisses and smiled as she reached her peak atop him before falling forward and bearing him to the bed. Once there neither really cared to move, and she proceeded to gently roll her hips until she inevitably drove him to one of the gentlest and most pleasurable orgasms he’d yet experienced at her hands. It wasn’t a coupling of lust, or frantic need, but of emotion and connection, and for the first time since they’d met she allowed him to release inside her. 

Something happened as a result. Not something that could be seen as yet, but something felt. As the orgasmic high left him, Harry noticed something that felt much as when he meditated on his magic. It was like he could feel his power moving through him into Gaia, and spreading through her veins into her pores, and then, as he watched, the bruises that remained faded completely from view. 

“Ah,” She mused, “I think that was definitely what I needed. I feel more refreshed than I have in weeks.” 

“Aye, so do I.” It seemed his hunch had been right, but his method had been wrong. Who knew he could literally heal and revitalize people with sex? The implications were staggering! Though if he could naturally heal as much as he suspected, then perhaps it wasn’t so much in his magic but his DNA? He decided to test the theory by using some blood the next time Crixus got cut in training. 

“Gaia, did you mean what you said? You are mine?” Staring into her eyes, he was able to see ‘exactly’ how much she indeed did mean it when she answered in the affirmative. “Then I have some things to tell you, and some ideas for the both of us and the future we will share. Tell me, how would you like to become the Empress of Rome?”

They spent the rest of the night talking, cuddling, and in the morning Harry was brought back to his cell where he gathered himself for the events ahead. 

*** End Lemon Scene ***

Present  

It was almost time. Hours had passed, and the final showdown was drawing near. All could hear the stomping feet of the crowd, the cheering of expectant voices, and the beating of drums as a staccato was played to lull them all to silence so an announcement might be made by the master of ceremonies himself. Already Gannicus, Barca, and the others had meandered over to the doors to join them. As they waited, their other brothers aided in the donning of their armor and acquiring tools of death.  

Harry had expected some jealousy from those that were not participating, but it seemed that was not the case. The other brothers were all just ecstatic to see members of their number partaking in the greatest event of the games. Their victory and triumph was shared amongst them all, and the energy was palpable in their staging area. 

Outside, trumpets blared, and the loud voice of Varus, master of the games, boomed out for all to hear. “These sands have been this day dearly watered with offerings of blood!” As they listened, all the gladiators pressed their faces into the bars to better see the noble and take in the spectacle he represented. “But more is demanded on such a day, and you shall have it!”  

The crowd roared their delight at the proclamation, and Harry found himself looking up to the high booth itself. He took note of Varus himself, Gaia (who was pressed tight to Lucretia and giggling), Quintus who had a supremely pleased smile on his face, and Solonius who looked to have swallowed a grape whole as he glared heatedly at his friend. It seemed the older lannista had indeed not taken the news of the sale of Vettius’ prize gladiators well. Even though the new men paired to his current stock still made the man the wealthiest lannista in Capua in terms of sheer numbers. Titus was seated at his son’s side with eyes glued to the arena floor. That was a man who cared only about the sport, not the trappings of ego. 

Varus continued, “The houses of Solonius and Batiatus shall battle each other in deadly contest. No mercy shown, no quarter given! These gladiators have faced deadly odds to gain victory in all of your eyes already, so let them gain it again for the last time facing each other in the primus! It shall be a spectacle the likes of which the gods even have yet to witness.” The noble shot his hand to the sky and declared, “Glory to Capua! Glory to Rome!”  

The crowd reared onto their feet and began filling the air with the stomping of their feet once more while several workers ran onto the sands to set the stage for the final event. It wasn’t long until Oenomaus ordered them all to attention as Quintus came power-walking down the stairs to address them one last time. It was clear he did not want to be away from the prime seating for long but he wasn’t going to miss the chance to speak to them before the big show. 

“Listen, and listen well.” He spoke swiftly but powerfully, drawing his men’s attention like a moth to the flame. “Everything we have dreamed of, suffered and died for, the worth of it all turns upon this single moment. Here you face the house of Solonius and though his numbers are greater than yours, they are far inferior in terms of ability, courage, training, and honor. You outmatch them in every way that matters! Though you all fight, only one man will claim victory this day and earn the title ‘Champion of Capua’. And by the gods, I swear that that man will be from the house of fucking Batiatus!”

“Raghr!” “Yeah!” “Yes!” The men cheered in equal measure, the speech having done its work of energizing them in spades. 

As Batiatus ran back up the stairs and the men began to line the walls to await deployment, Harry took Oenomaus’ arm and led him aside. If things went as he hoped they would today, then he needed to make one thing clear to this man. “Oenomaus, whatever happens upon these sands, whatever the results, I need you to know that you still remain my brother.” The wizard used his other hand to pull the taller man’s forehead flush with his own. It was an intimate gesture of friendship he’d come to understand quite well during his time in the ludus. One he’d witnessed shared with many others as well. “I’m proud to know you.” 

“And I you.” The doctore grinned before pulling back and lightly punching the Briton’s chest, “But do not worry. I trained you too well for death to find you this day.” As Harry moved into his own position in line he thought, ‘It isn’t death of which I speak, my friend, but you will understand soon enough.’ As an aside he shared a nod with Crixus and then it was time to get his game face on. The two of them had already discussed what would happen should either of them win so no words were needed. 

The gates opened and they marched out waving to the crowd and showing off a few moves to get them pumped up. They needn’t have bothered though, as the people of Capua were long starved for this event and nothing could have diminished their excitement for it short of a volcanic eruption. And even then, from the looks on their faces, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if they kept watching until the molten magma consumed them while still cheering. Across from them on the other side of the sand, Solonius’s greater numbers entered as well, doing much the same as them with far less impressive responses from the people. 

Then Varus decided to speak one last time. “People of Capua! Many have fought this day. Many have died. Their blood has watered the sands but it is a massive beast that yearns for more! Two great houses face each other, but every man must stand for himself and himself alone.” He nodded to the workers at the wall, and soon they were all running into the field, circling the space around them all with black sludge poured from a series of clay vases. “Fire burns in their hearts, ” Varus declared, “and it is fire that shall bind them in final contest!” The workers grabbed a set of torches and pressed them to the sludge. In an instant flames sprang up and spread everywhere the thick substance had touched, trapping them all within a roaring ring of fire. “Fall to the sands beyond the flames, and find yourself removed from the primus. Fall within them, and be removed from this world. Take position!” The noble finished with a lazy wave of his hand and reclaimed his seat. 

The gladiators did so, moving to either side of the now very limited space. Batiatus’ ten versus Solonius' twenty. It was going to be one hell of a brawl. When the trumpets sounded they charged, entering the fray with fire and fury as their friends, and steel as their guides, with hands and eyes following each to meet deadly task. 

For the next several minutes Harry wasn’t able to take note of what the others were doing as all of his focus was spent on his own exertions. With so many available opponents in the melee he couldn’t rely on his eyes to predict where every one of his potential adversaries would go, so he had to make due with the instincts born of countless hours of practice and experience. He drove a sword through one man’s face, hobbled another by slashing their achilles tendon, and shoulder checked a third across the line of fire before carrying on his way until he ended up getting pushed back as he came upon a pure mountain of a man swinging around a curved sword and greatshield in equal measure as if they weighed nothing. 

Indeed, so wild were the goliath’s motions that as Harry danced back he witnessed three of his brothers taken out of the running as collateral damage, each knocked clear of their senses and the ring, just by happening to be in his general vicinity. It didn’t take long to realize this was the massive brute that Vettius had been so proud of in the preliminary rounds, and sadly one of the few great ones that Batiatus had not been able to afford. He’d chosen three above average men instead for the same price. 

As the wizard did his best to stay clear of the monster that was bearing down on him until he found an opening, he took note of how the others seemed to be doing. It had only been perhaps a minute since the brawl had started, but already the vast majority of both sides had been dispatched, either mortally or via disqualification. (being thrown out). In fact, Gnaeus had lit his net on fire and caught two foes inside it, but a third had tackled him out of the ring a moment later. Barca was holding his own with his mighty spear, but with two others also bearing down on him it was anyone’s guess how that would end. Crixus was blazing a trail like a juggernaut through foes as he raced to reach his brother’s side, but the way things were going Harry didn’t think he’d make it in time. 

The wizard was just considering seeing if he could summon the monster’s feet out from under him when Gannicus came flying in out of nowhere to offer him a moment of respite. How did he do this? By jumping on the big man’s back and trying to strangle the beast. Said beast immediately tried to stab his attacker, but Gannicus ducked low to avoid the strike and unless the big man wanted to drop any of his weapons he couldn’t reach up to pull him loose. So instead he fell backwards and nearly crushed the champion with the full weight of his bulk and armor. 

He got up, Gannicus groaned, and it was then that Crixus arrived to tackle the monster back to the ground just in time for Harry, who had moved into a more advantageous position, to slam both blades down at once, completely severing the behemoth’s head from his shoulders. The crowd roared their approval at such a fine display of both teamwork and gore, and if the wizard wasn’t mistaken he heard Batiatus especially loud over the rest. 

At once both Harry and Crixus rolled to their feet and took stock of where things now stood. Gannicus was clearly down for the count, so that left them, a couple more of Solonius’ number and, surprisingly enough, Barca. The large spearman was gasping uproariously for air, but he was still standing, and two corpses lay steaming at his feet. 

Harry and Barca shared a nod, and the darker skinned man leveled his spear horizontally across his body and charged Solonius’s men with it, driving them all out of the ring and the running. In that nod it had been clear, the spearman was absolutely drained and had used up near all of his endurance just getting that far. He would rather be known this day as a man that went out taking two men with him into obscurity than fall to a blade. That left the wizard and the Gaul as the last men standing. 

Crixus raised his sword in a solute. “Well, brother, shall we put honor to steel then?”

Raising his own weapons in kind, Harry responded, “We’ve both got honor enough, my friend. But let’s give these people a show anyway.” 

Like a shot from a rifle the two men charged each other and at the last moment before impact Harry dropped and slid beneath the Gaul’s legs before kicking up sand to right himself behind him for a body shot that the bigger man quickly spun to block with his shield. Crixus was equally quick with his own slashing attacks but Harry ducked low, caught eye contact and began stalking around every slice like a lion as he drew the event out, allowing his friend every opportunity to show his skill to the crowd and earn their cheers and adulation. He even went so far as to let a heel stomp to his chest connect hard enough to send him rolling backward to allow the man a gratuitous moment of awe. 

Then they locked eyes again and decided it was time to end it for real. Waving heartily to the people and bowing to the high box they shed themselves of weapons and armor, and then faced each other once more with fists raised. Neither wanted to risk killing the other so they’d decided in advance that if they became the finalists this was how the end would be decided. 

Still keeping eye contact Harry blocked a right hook and slammed a knee into his friend’s ribs before ducking back crashing home with a roundhouse into his ear that sent him sprawling. The Gaul reclaimed his feet quickly but he was understandably wary of his lightly hopping-in-place compatriot. Both knew that out of the two of them the Briton was far superior in hand to hand combat. Which explained why he barely had time to block the next punch… but not the second and third that nearly dislocated his jaw and did crack the two ribs that had been bruised in the previous interaction. 

Crixus fell to his knees, but before he could risk humiliation with the Missio, Harry saved him with an uppercut to the chin that robbed him of all consciousness and speaking ability. As his body crashed to the sand the horns of the band roared the Briton’s triumph. And as he raised his arms high Harry allowed a bit of mischief to enter his eyes and, concentrating hard on his vocal chords while drawing on several weeks worth of meditation, he let loose with a booming lion’s roar that shook the wood of the people’s seats and drove them to even higher levels of ecstasy. 

Meanwhile, in the high booth, Varus was giving a wildly cheering Batiatus the side eye, “Did you know your man could imitate a lion so well? My, what a talent.”

Coming back to himself at once for being addressed by a man so great, Quintus blustered out, “Of course I knew, Good Varus. In fact, he told me once that amongst his people animal mimicry was a prized talent.” Of course that was complete bullshit but the noble didn’t need to know that. “Around the Ludus we even call him the Lion.” Another lie, but one that was sure to make his man memorable. 

“Indeed?” The noble considered that and unbidden a thought that had been buzzing around his head since his companion’s great party bubbled to the surface. This Briton was interesting, he was great, and he’d won the primus. Surely such an interesting and great man deserved an equal gift commensurate to his efforts. Standing up he gestured to the band who played a new series of notes that quieted the crowd and drew attention back to him. 

“People of Capua,” He bellowed to be heard, “I give you your champion! Harry of Britain! Harry the Lion! Harry the Champion of Capua!” Varus gave the people a few moments to vent out how happy they were at that before continuing. “Aye he is our champion, and through him the gods have surely shown us their blessing on the construction of this, our new arena. Thus I believe he deserves a prize equal to the prestige of that position. So please join me in honoring both the gods and the champion by gifting him… with his freedom!”  

Fresh tumult sounded at the announcement and Varus took a moment to address Batiatus directly. “You have no problem with that do you, Batiatus? I of course will compensate you for the loss.”

For his part Quintus was at a loss for how he could possibly prevent it at that point, so he mustered himself and replied, “Gratitude. It is a fine gift.”

“Indeed.” 

Meanwhile, Gaia was waving herself down with her fan to calm her pulse after everything she’d just seen. Harry had been in so much danger, and yet he’d been entirely in his element from start to finish; and it had ended just as he’d predicted it would. After the things he’d shown her after revealing his true origins she shouldn’t be surprised, but there it was. Now though, after seeing it all play out, she found herself incredibly hot and bothered, and with her man now freed as he was they would no longer need to hide their appreciation for each other. 

Though it didn’t escape her notice either that Lucretia was also eyeing the man with interest. Perhaps the hints and seeds of thought she’d been dropping in the redhead’s ear were finally coming to fruition. When she’d told Harry about her plans in regard to the other woman he’d merely advised her to be patient and observant. They both knew she was feeling the strain of not providing her husband with a child so it was only a matter of time before she started looking to others to try and provide it. And when she did they would have her. 

In the meantime, oh the plans her man had for the future. The beautiful, glorious, plans.

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Note : This will be a collection of shorts to sort of summarize the events occurring to Harry and those close to him during the interim years between the prequel series and season one of Spartacus. The next chapter I post will be starting season one. 

Chapter Nine - Shorts

Six Months Later

The crowd below let loose with bloodthirsty cheers matched in intensity by Quintus Batiatus himself as the man nearly leapt off the ledge in the noble’s box with joy. Behind him, Gaia leaned against the wall and took several deep, incredibly pleased, breaths as below she watched her lover take the head of his eighth opponent in a row. Harry had been on a bit of a tour since his victory over the Primus of Capua and he’d quickly become one of the most desired names in the gladiatorial sport. He had just now won the exhibition melee of the Great Games of Londinium and already she knew Batiatus was fielding offers from the Roman Coliseum itself as well as the Flavian Amphitheatre and the Circus Maximus to feature him. Everyone who was everyone knew who the Lion of Capua was now and they were all in a massive hurry to attach their names to games he took center stage in to cash in on his fame. 

As Harry let loose his customary Lion’s Roar of Victory below, the nobles seated in the booth quickly moved to have quiet words with Batiatus, likely to inquire how he’d managed to train so great a champion, or ask if they could make an investment in his career. Meanwhile, all of the wives likewise made their way over to Gaia herself. 

“My, Gaia, you must be so proud of your beau down below.” The leader of the pack simpered as she came level with the taller woman. By that point her relationship with Harry had been too obvious to hide as she was often spotted on his arm at galas following his victorious bouts in the arena. “And a ‘younger’ man at that.” The emphasis was hard to miss, as was the jab at Gaia’s age. That said, she also picked up the annoyance in the woman’s tone as she added, “Though I must say you also look… good for one of your years.”

“Good, Calliope?” Another woman in the que gasped, “She looks ten years younger than the last time we saw her!” 

The brunette preened at the praise and ran a hand through her silky hair for emphasis that had everyone’s eyes riveted to the silhouette of her svelte form. “I know.”

“What’s your secret?” The gaggle of noblewomen abandoned Calliope to swarm around the other woman who merely giggled behind her hand. 

“Fine physical delight from a wondrous lover. And I do mean wondrous .” The woman smirked at the awed looks of all the young women gathered and she lowered her voice to a tone of pure discretion, “And he’s willing to offer his wondrous skills to any interested parties… for a price.”

Before anyone else could agree, Calliope sneered, “You would just let your lover lay with others for money like some two bit mistress?”

Gaia sneered right back and answered, “If you’re good at something never do it for free. And also, why shouldn’t I share his glorious manhood with others? It’s too good to be kept locked up when it could be of use. He desires money, I desire money, and we have happiness with each other even if I share him. So how about it? His going rate is two hundred denarii a night.” 

Meanwhile Batiatus was working a similar game with his crowd. He and Harry had made an arrangement months ago. If he arranged good deals on his behalf then he would receive a twenty percent gratuity. “How about it, men? We’re spending two more weeks in this city and Harry’s time could be yours during it for the right price. Imagine, two weeks of training, guidance, and combat expertise for your children and guards. Also the prestige of housing the Lion of Capua in your homes. We shall start the bidding at one thousand denarii.” 

Two Weeks Later 

Harry breezed into the balcony room of the villa Batiatus had them staying in and embraced Gaia from behind. “Hello, love.”

“Greetings, Harry.” The brunette kissed her lover deeply and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted and wrung dry.”

“Oh, my poor love, forced to spend his days training snot nosed brats in the art of the sword and his nights satisfying beautiful women until they become naught but drooling puddles of ecstasy beneath him. You must be so tired of ruining them for all other men.”

“Not tired enough to keep from satisfying you as well!” As his woman squealed with surprise he scooped her into his arms and deposited her firmly on the bed before climbing on top of her. “I’m sorry, Gaia, but I’ve been apart from you too long to wait for foreplay.”

“Don’t worry,” She swept the hem of her dress up and ripped the waist rap from his body in one swift move, “I’ve been drenched and ready ever since Diona informed me of your return.” All other words ceased as her lover drove himself home within her and sparks flew before her vision. For thirty minutes they rutted together like animals until they were both drenched with sweat and sated; and only then did the door to the room open and Diona herself enter with a tray of refreshments. 

In the time since the primus she had taken on the role of Gaia’s personal body slave, and she took her duties seriously. Especially since she was just as knowledgeable about Harry’s eventual plans for the future as the noblewoman herself. “Did you two enjoy yourselves?” She asked as she handed over glasses of chilled wine to the two before pulling a silk sheet over their forms. 

Gaia stretched luxuriously and answered, “Thoroughly. Is this Spanish wine? Diona, you spoil me.”

“I try, Domina.” The slave gave a wink before rounding the bed and providing Harry with his own refreshments. “How was your time away, Harry?”

“Horrifyingly dull.” He answered with an eye roll. “I swear, the things I do for money. Those children were all hopeless, but their fathers were ever so proud that any progress at all was made from my lessons. The women just laid there like dead fish. I had to spend most of those nights teaching them some of what you taught me, Gaia.”

“That is what happens when a woman is taught that sex is only about childbearing and not pleasure.” The brunette huffed between replenishing sips. “All the same, we made a handy profit out of these ventures, even after giving Quintus his percentage. I assume you want me to transfer funds to your little project back in Capua?” She’d been handling his finances for months by that point. 

Harry grinned and answered in the affirmative. One of the first things he’d done with his winnings upon gaining freedom was purchase a massive warehouse in the Capuan countryside and start filling it with raw ingots of metal and blacksmithing equipment. As of yet he hadn’t told the others what it was all for. He wanted to figure a few things out first and build up a better supply before finalizing things. Oh yes, he had plans in spades. 

Eventually the call of nature presented itself and as he left to the balcony to drain the proverbial snake in a chamber pot Gaia reclined back on her pillows and patted the bed to bring Diona closer for a private conversation. She was very fond of the girl, and she knew that Harry considered her a friend close enough to bring her into his inner circle, but she was incredibly confused by one thing. “Diona, dear, why have you not joined Harry in bed? If it’s about me I would not mind.” 

Diona blushed and shook her head in the negative. “It isn’t like that with me and Harry. After what happened to me…” the slave took a moment to center herself like Harry had taught her to do when she began to get depressed and continued, “I just… don’t have those urges anymore. I can’t think about it without getting physically sick. Harry understands that, and he’s happy to just be my friend. He helped me heal when I was broken, and I’m loyal to him above all others for it, but I’ll never be a lover to anyone. It’s no longer in me.” 

“That’s perfectly fine, dear.” Gaia brushed a bit of hair free of the younger girl’s forehead and asked, “Does it bother you to hear us when we play? I could arrange for you to be elsewhere if it is a problem for you.”

“Thank you, Domina, but I am fine. Harry calls it exposure therapy. The more I can hear and still stand tall, the stronger I become. After all this time serving you both I have managed to find at least a modicum of peace with it.”

“Well, you tell me if that changes. I would like for us to be friends as well.”

Blushing freely once more Diona answered, “I also would like that, Domina.”

Two Years Later

“Harry!” 

“Harry!” 

“Potter!” 

“Lion!” 

“Capua!” 

The crowds gathered amongst the stands of the Roman coliseum cheered the gladiator’s name as he dodged between swipes of a trio of hangry tigers. This was the third day of the Great Games in Rome and he’d asked for the coup de gras in return for performing there. Ergo, the greatest beasts at the arena manager’s hand. So it was that he danced between the lunges and swipes of the great beasts, all as the crowd continued to be drawn into his performance. Long ago he’d elected to win the crowd as his prime motivation for performance and it seemed he’d at last succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. 

What was even more surprising was just how much he loved it. In England he had been respected and admired, sure enough, but here he was absolutely adored! And it was all going according to plan. After this showing there wouldn’t be a person in the greatest city in the Republic that didn’t know his name. Perfect. 

Timing his next move perfectly around the rising crescendo of his audience he rolled forward under the nearest lunging cat and upon his rise used the momentum to drive one sword into the breast of another. Not giving his remaining foes time to flank him once more he leapt to the side, torqued his torso, and sliced his remaining blade down into the neck of the second tiger that he’d known would be coming hot on his tail. Unfortunately… the blade got stuck between the bone and meat and the pommel was ripped from his hand as he dove away once more to build some space from the last beast, though he needn’t have worried as it had seen what became of its fellows and it was holding back a bit, appraising him with eyes far too keen for Harry’s liking. 

Slowly the two circled each other while Rome’s populace hushed in expectant whispers as they leaned forward in their seats to see what would happen next. With a puff of dirt in the air from the passing of two sets of feet they found their hopes rewarded as the gladiator and tiger defied expectations and ran straight at each other. 

Only Gaia, watching from the Box of Honor above the others with her eyes enhanced by years of Harry’s ambient magic, noticed the way her love had loosened the straps of his right wrist greave and shuffled it down past his knuckles while he was circling the great beast. Only she knew that he sharpened the ends of them before every battle in case he was ever disarmed as he had been. And only she could have guessed what he would do next as he skidded beneath the beast the moment before contact could be made and drove his improvised weapon up into its soft underbelly as it passed by through the air to disembowel it. 

When all was said and done the tiger died with an agonized howl with its guts spilling into the sand around it, and Harry reclaimed his feet covered from the torso up in its blood. The crowd erupted with awed applause and still Harry’s bestial roar echoed above them all, only fueling their ardor and delight all the more for it. 

After spending a few seconds perusing his body to make sure her love wasn’t injured, Gaia made a decision to have him in her bed later before he could bathe the blood away. Then she looked over at her closest friend and delighted in the open awe and shocked desire on her face. Quintus had been drawn away by several senators earlier to talk business (they were interested in training some of their own stock at his ludus after so fine a showing) so the two of them were alone in the box looking down on the scene. It had been a long road to get here; letting Lucretia see how happy she was with Harry, arranging for her to walk in on him bathing more than once, and filling her mind with endless stories of all the ways he had pleased her physically since first taking him to her bed, and Gaia was sure that the time was finally nigh to make the last move in her intricate chess game of matchmaking with the regal redhead. 

Leaning down to whisper in the ear of her dearest and oldest friend, Gaia noted, “You can have him if you want.” Lucretia grew very still, and her eyes became panicked at being found out to be staring. “It’s okay, Lucy. I share Harry all the time. I like doing it. You have no idea how hot it makes me to know all those rich bitches are paying out the nose for what I get for free.”

“G-Gaia, I can’t. “I-I’m-”

“Married, I know. Many of our other lovers are as well.”

“I could get pregnant!” The other woman whispered harshly. 

Gaia raised a brow and asked, “And would that be so bad? You and Quintus have been trying for how long now? Nothing is working there and he dearly desires an heir. You could scratch your itch and grow your family all at the same time.” 

“I don’t know…” Lucretia trailed off and her voice became troubled, but her eyes had not left Harry during the entirety of their conversation. It was then that Gaia knew she had her, and the brunette couldn’t be happier. Oh yes, she loved Harry, and she loved Lucretia, and she wanted more than anything else to love them both together. Oh yes, the joy they could share if united. 

“Oh, Lucy, what would be the harm, really? Quintus has sampled the slave girls hasn’t he?”

“We both have.” The redhead admitted. 

“Then what could be the harm in taking a free man who is more than willing? I promise you that neither of us would breathe a word of it to anyone; discretion is important to us after all. And surely it would be better to sample a free man than a slave?” 

“I-I… perhaps…”

She was wavering now, perfect. “What if I were there with you both? Would you feel more comfortable then?”

Lucretia at once developed a look of gratitude and ease as she looped her arm through her friend’s. “Oh Gaia, that would make me feel better about it. Does that make me weak?”

“No, it just means you want to be as comfortable as possible and there is nothing at all wrong with that.” 

“What do I tell Quintus?”

“Nothing. I am willing to bet he will be joining those senators he’s with in the city into the late hours of the morning to celebrate whatever deal they settle on. We’ll have the entire floor to ourselves for hours.”

Lucretia blinked, “I hardly think we’ll need that long.”

Gaia smirked and conspiratorially whispered in her friend’s ear, “Lucy, your husband may last long enough to give you one orgasm before finishing himself, but Harry can go for far, far, longer. I have trained his endurance well and he is a veeeerrrrryyyyy giving lover.”

That Night

Gaia’s prediction had been right on the money. Batiatus indeed had been asked out by his new business associates and had made it clear to his wife that he’d likely not be back until the morrow. That left the victorious gladiator sitting alone in the baths of their opulent city residence while Gaia and Lucretia prepared in the other room. 

True to her thoughts earlier in the day the brunette had indeed already made love to him while he’d been liberally coated in the blood of his victory but they’d both decided the other woman they sought to induct into their life would likely not appreciate the same ‘unique’ circumstances that Gaia tended to. The location they found themselves was a rooftop set of apartments in the heart of the city. They were lodgings that had been prepared to house the Lion of Capua, his manager, and his entourage in advance of their visit and they were indeed quite opulent even by their usual standards. 

The stones beneath the water were covered in intricate carvings of mythical beasts in motion, the walls held several pillars of marble, and the ceiling held no less than five chandeliers with lit candles that filled the chamber with pale and beautiful illumination. On the whole, it really set the mood better than anyone could have hoped. 

Of course his attention was cleared from those items completely the moment the doors ahead of him opened and his eyes were blessed with the visage of two beautiful women walking towards him with only a pair of short towels wrapped around their torsos to preserve their modesties. 

***Start Lemon***

“Well, what a surprise.” Harry spread his knees apart in the water to offer the women an unobstructed view of what he knew they both wanted. “I expected you sooner.”

Gaia offered the man a wink and dropped her towel to the floor as she struck a pose, cocking her hip and combing her fingers up into her hair. She knew from his pleased smirk that she’d done the right thing. Her man loved it when she modeled for him. “Well I just couldn’t decide what to wear. I thought about my silk robe, that eastern dancer attire you ordered last year, and even that article you called a… thong. But eventually I remembered that tonight isn’t about me, or you, it’s about Lucretia.” And so saying the brunette gripped her friend’s towel and ripped it free of her grasp, revealing the redhead in all her glory as the woman herself blushed up a mighty storm. 

For her own part, Lucretia found herself frozen. Her immediate instinct was to crouch down and retrieve the covering, but then she saw Harry’s eyes upon her and… some deep and carnal part hidden within loved it. He looked upon her with open hunger, desire, and appreciation, and it was the first time in her life anyone besides her husband and Gaia had ever seen her in such a way. She’d never felt more exposed… or aroused. Hell, she thought she must be leaking down her legs.

Gaia must have seen the look as she moved in from behind her and began running her hands over her body. Her back, her shoulders, her arms, and then her breasts, and all the while she cooed into her ear and told her to keep her eyes forward as the gladiator slowly pulled himself free of the water and began walking over to her. If the appreciation in his eyes hadn’t been clear enough then the glistening erection between his legs would have keyed her into his feelings toward her without much pause. 

Like a frightened mouse Lucretia’s former delight turned to fear, and she almost made to turn away, except Gaia had a firm hold of her. Her hands still cupped her breasts but her arms were clinched tight over her torso holding her fast. “Now, now, dear, just wait and see. I promise you’ll love what comes next.” She punctuated her words with a hard pinch to her friend’s nipples that had the redhead moaning with shocked pleasure. 

Taking his cue, Harry strode easily through the last vestige of space that separated him from his quarry and leaned in close, pressing his member flush to her taut abdomen while reaching behind to cup her rear and begin massaging it. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispered in her ear, grinning through his loose hair at the labored breaths he could feel rapidly escaping her lips near his ear. “But ask me to continue and I’ll show you pleasure the likes of which you’ve never known.” 

“P-P-Please-” Lucretia gasped. 

“Please what?”

“T-Touch me!” The redhead finally moaned as one of her friend’s hands left its former home to trail down and begin teasing her lower lips. 

Harry chuckled deeply and surprised the woman by slowly dropping to his knees. “Your wish is my command.” Maintaining his grip on the redhead’s rear, he pulled her hips into his face and as his tongue delved into the delight of her core he began whispering in parseltongue, setting his own appendage to a high tuned vibrating frequency. 

One minute in and Lucretia lost the faculty of speech. Two minutes and her legs buckled. Two and a half and she was screaming Harry’s name in the screeching pleasure of release while Gaia held her aloft. Without her she’d have likely passed out. As it stood, Harry kept up his relentless assault for another five minutes after, driving her into four more crescendoing releases before he pulled back and nodded his head, directing Gaia to pull her friend into the heat of the water. She kept pulling until her back was flush to his former resting spot, a bunching of towels that just felt delightful against her back. Then she settled the redhead’s back flush to her chest and wrapped her legs around her knees, pulling them wide moments later as Harry floated his way over to them. 

Lucretia finally came back down to earth from her pleasure high as he reached his place over her and waited, looking deep into her eyes. All at once all of the remaining reservations she held about going all the way disappeared. In the space of her mind all that remained was her appreciation for Harry, her desire for him, her will to make him feel happy, fulfilled, and satisfied. She wanted him… she needed him… she…. Loved him.

Harry could see the moment his mental commands took hold and he couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk that came to his lips as a result. Weak from pleasure, delirious from overstimulation, the woman had been easy to turn to his control. Surely the old him would have had a problem with mentally dominating a human being, but the current one had lived far too long with the cruelties of the world to care over much. He wanted Lucretia. More than a quick lay he wanted her for his own. Her, Gaia, and more women besides. And Gaia at least he knew was more than happy to share that desire. Oh yes, they wanted the same thing, a harem of women devoted to them both, and they would have it. 

“Please… do it.” Lucretia’s lips formed the words she never thought she’d ever say to any man other than Quintus. “Make me yours. Make me whole.” 

“As you wish. Gaia, a hand please.” The brunette smirked at his choice of words and reached forward to grab a hold of his manhood. She’d been the one to set this event in motion so it seemed right that she be the one to see it driven to its conclusion. So, staring deep into his eyes the entire time and licking her lips with rapture, she pulled him the last bit of distance through the water, lined him up, and then took a hold of his right butcheek and dragged him the rest of the way home. 

Lucretia’s orgasmic moan at the act was music to her ears, and the near continuous wails of pleasure that erupted from her throat as her man began to thrust were akin to an orchestra. Yes, she maintained eye contact for the next two hours, all while her man drove her closest friend to orgasm after orgasm. Every time he came close to his own end he would stop and wait for her to turn Lucretia into a new position, and then he would start up again. But he didn’t finish. No, he was saving himself, waiting for the signal, and when Gaia finally gave him her wink he pulled swiftly out of Lucretia, pushed her aside, and then slammed home one last time in his first lover’s core. The swift and merciless act, paired with the hours of teasing she’d received from watching him with another woman, set Gaia off like a rocket; and as her core squeezed and massaged his length Harry finally let loose, coating her inner walls with his vitality granting release and biting her shoulder with supreme joy as he shuddered through it all atop her. 

*** Lemon End***

When they finally came down to earth once more they all floated back together and cuddled in the wet heat of the bath. As he felt Gaia and Lucretia resting their heads on his chest Harry allowed himself a moment to release a sigh of bliss. Life certainly hadn’t turned out how he’d expected, but he was far from complaining. Who could when they had a beautiful brunette and a redhead completely devoted to them? 

A Few Months Later

Ten Miles Outside Capua

“So are you finally going to tell me what all of this is then, Harry?” Gaia asked as her horse pulled to a stop beside her lover’s outside a large warehouse standing alone with nothing but open land visible on all sides of it. Beside her Diona dropped from her own saddle and helped her to do the same in a far more dignified manner. “You’ve had me siphoning money here for years now and all you would say was that it was a surprise.”

Meanwhile, Harry was letting out a low chuckle as he looped the reins of the three beasts to a nearby post. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s the future?” Moving over he took the hands of both women and led them to the large doors before waving a hand and summoning them open with his will. At once the air filled with the clanging of hammers on metal and the heat of forges in action and the woman quickly pulled their fans free to begin pumping air at their faces as the man pulled them inside. 

It took a few moments to make out the scene within as the light was much dimmer from a lack of windows, but the ambient light of the fires and forges soon allowed them to make things out, and what they saw made little sense. Over a dozen men were bent over anvils hammering materials while a dozen more were pouring molten material into a mold. Six more were in the back carefully rolling a few barrels as far away from the heat as possible to join the stack of similar numbers already waiting.

“Who are all these people?” Gaia wanted to know. 

Her lover answered, “Laborers and slaves I purchased and freed. I provide for them here and in return they keep my secrets. When the time comes they know I’ll send them on their way with enough gold to start a blacksmithy of their own. Batiatus was right in his own way, gold greases many wheels.”

Harry led them over to another wall that held a number of odd wood and metal objects mounted in neat rows. Selecting one he grabbed a package from nearby and then led them back outside. “Back in my old timeline I had a friend named Hermione. She and I realized a war was on the horizon and that we were hopefully unprepared to fight it. So we started researching many ways to gain an advantage over our enemies and one that appealed to us a great deal was firearms. The issue came from how difficult it was to acquire them in our country, so we researched how they were made historically. Our hope was to get a hold of the raw materials and then use our magic to create the final products from them. Sadly the event that brought me here happened before we could use what we’d learned.”

“Firearms?” Diona asked curiously. “What are those?”

“Give me a moment and you’ll find out.” Tearing open the package he poured powder down the barrel, then lifted a rod free of the tube to stomp a cloth wrapped metal ball down after it. Once everything was set he slid the rod back under the barrel, lifted the stock to his shoulder, and aimed at a large rock about thirty yards away before pulling the trigger. Before their eyes a large chunk of the right corner exploded free in a cloud of dust. 

“Huh, it pulls a bit to the right. I’ll need to notify the artificiars.” He mused before slinging the spent rifle over his shoulder and turning to enjoy the shell-shocked expressions on the women’s faces. “I would have shown you both what all this was sooner but the black powder was the scale upon which this entire operation balanced and it took a bit longer than anticipated to set up trade for it with reliable merchants along the Silk Road who knew how to keep a secret.”

Gaia gulped and noted, “With such a weapon you could….”

“...Conquer the world.” Diona finished for her.

“Perhaps.” Harry mused before letting out a full laugh. “Just wait until you see what the cannons are capable of when they are finished. As a great General named Napoleon once said, ‘ In war, God favors the side with the better artillery.’ Of course, before we can make use of these we’ll need to grow our stockpile, recruit an army, and build up a symbol for them to rally behind. If I’m right then we won’t have to wait much longer.”

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer : I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Note : Sorry for the wait on this one. My attention and creative inclinations went in a different direction for a while. Plus real life got kind of hectic for a bit. That said, I am back, and I’m ready to let Harry run rampant through the Roman World. I hope you enjoy the adventure along with me. 

Chapter Ten - Hello Capua

Albinius couldn’t have stopped himself from shouting with triumph if he’d tried as he let the scroll he’d just finished reading fall to rest upon the surface of his desk. Thankfully no one else was present to see such an undignified outburst, but it was most certainly warranted as far as he was concerned. At long last his efforts, bribes, and struggles had been seen by the gods and rewarded with just position and advancement. However, that meant there was a great deal now that needed to be accomplished with haste. 

Smoothing out the lines of his toga, Albinius rang a nearby bell to get the closest slave’s attention. Moments later the door to his office creaked open, a collared head ducked inside, and he gave swift instructions to have his daughter brought in at once. Even with such clear instruction, it still took the sweet girl nearly twenty minutes to arrive. And based on the still delightful smile on her face she had likely either been trying on dresses or thinking about her recent marriage to Claudius Glaber. It was a marriage that he himself had been vehemently set against, seeing as the man was far beneath his daughter’s station in both pedigree and financial worth, but his little girl had certainly inherited her mother’s will when it came to getting the things she wanted, and she had worn him down to accepting the union in the end. 

Of course the only proper course to undertake once the troublesome match had occurred was to arrange for greater standing for the man to be won if he was to be tied to their family, so he’d set things in motion for Glaber to be given a military command and sent on campaign. With a few proper field victories under his belt then surely his daughter wouldn’t face any further sneers from their contemporaries as a result of her romantic leanings. Everyone who was anyone loved a victor. True to form, Ilithyia had spent her husband’s absence… shopping. Well, he’d see about setting that straight now. 

“Father,” his golden haired angel curtsied to him lithely before scampering around his desk to give him a hug. “What is it that has you looking so uncommonly happy?” 

“Uncommonly? I am always happy.”

“All evidence to the contrary, father.” Ilithyia chuckled lightly behind her hand before taking a step back and at last seeing the loosely rolled scroll lying in the center of his desk. With a quick intake of breath she scooped it up and began ravenously absorbing the contents held within. 

As Albinius smirked with triumph he watched her delighted gasp before she dropped the same item, hugged him again, and began to literally hop in place from excitement. “You’ve done it! The votes were tallied in your favor!” 

The elder man nodded happily and reclined deeper into his chair. “Aye, the results have proven favorable. After a year of hard campaign and investment I have at last been declared the Senator for Capua. It has been a long road, but at last our family has reached the pinnacle of prestige that it deserves.” The smile grew a bit tight as he added, “A place more expediently achieved had you married Gracus’ son as I had planned. My seat now had been promised by word, coin, and oath months ago if your part had been played.”

Ilithyia groaned and shook her head sadly at the turn their conversation had taken. She’d known her father wouldn’t exactly be happy with her declining his arranged marriage pact, but to still hold a grudge after so many months was just getting old. “We’ve been over this, father. The man was an absolute boor. Besides, he weighed thrice what I do.” 

“One could argue that is a good thing. After all, imagine the wealth it takes to fund such excess of bulk and diet?” Albinius’ crooked smile showed the humor of his statement for the truth it was. “But long dead plans and wayward daughters aside, my new circumstance leads to a bit of a problem.” 

“Problem?” The blonde quirked her head with open curiosity. 

“Yes, and you’ll need to cancel your travel plans to the battlefront to help me deal with it.” Seeing his daughter suddenly go pale at her machinations being discovered, he said, “Yes, I know about your intent to go visit your husband in the field, but obligation comes before pleasure, and obligation to your paterfamilia stands far above obligation to a recently wedded husband. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, father.” Ilithyia sulked, crossing her arms and resting her hip against the side of his desk. Though she decided in that moment that she’d still send a slave with a message for her husband at the front regardless of whatever task was put before her now. With or without her ‘tender’ touch, he needed to know how seriously her father expected a win from him on the battlefield. With just how badly the older man had disapproved of her husband from the start, paired with his current statements about how he still smoldered from her thwarting of his plans, she wouldn’t put it past him to take the first negative opportunity available to annul their marriage. 

“Good. Now, as that document makes clear, I am expected on the senate floor in two weeks to accept my official appointment. No doubt the different factions will desire to plant lips to ass to incite my vote to join them. It is remarkable how much hot air and rose words intertwine.”

“Not much chance of swaying thought and deed, I assume?” 

“None. Though wasted effort can be turned to rich opportunity in time. Capua is a wealthy province, and it will take more than puckered lips and veiled promises to earn its votes and trade.” Albinius’ smile turned bloodthirsty. “Oh the things our family will achieve once I get there. However, if I am to be a Senator of Capua, then my home must be established there as well.”

Ilithyia frowned at that. “What’s wrong with staying in Rome?” 

“It is just the way of things, my dear. How can I represent our people if I do not live near them? I refuse to be another foreign tyrant like so many others. Men who put voice to grievance and claim public dissatisfaction without but even one word of corroboration from their constituents. Do you know the secret to a long political career, my dear? It is making the people believe you serve them while also serving yourself. The first step is making my face a common sight.” 

“That seems… a bit much.”

“That’s politics. Now, I must focus on my acceptance speech and declaration of policy. In the meantime, I require you to travel to Capua in my stead, set up our new House, and start putting a public face to our family.” 

Ilithyia blinked. “Surely the slaves could handle such mundane tasks.” 

Albinius waved a hand lazily through the air. “Were it simply just the travel and moving then perhaps it could be done with them alone. However, the image of our family must be put forward. And the gods have not yet let exist a one that can put perfection of face, kindness of intent, and light of soul to strangers' perceptions better than my beloved daughter. I trust none but you with this task.” As expected, his truthful flattery was having the desired effect, based on his daughter’s newly wistful features. Yes, she would do as he asked. Not that there had truly been any doubt in the matter to start. 

And while she was away he’d continue to think on the political issues her marriage presented him. He’d given Glaber every possible advantage to start, and if the man returned a failure… then there would most assuredly be hell to pay for lowering such a beautiful light in his life to such a level by association…. 

He was brought back to the present when he realized his daughter had been asking him a question, and in his moment of rumination he’d missed the context behind it. “I’m sorry, dear, but what was that?” 

Ilithyia shook her head, her heart full of fondness for her forgetful father, and repeated, “I asked, how will I begin to establish our family in Capua? I do not know anyone there that could introduce me to the social elite.” 

Albinius shifted a few items around on his desk and pulled yet another scroll free of his ‘read’ pile. For such a successful businessman and merchant, the man truly was horrendous at keeping his mail organized. Though, in the words of his own father, organized chaos truly was the only way to keep track of so much mail at once. Those that pretended cleanly pretense and organization in public were often the most truly slovenly and disorganized in private. 

“I have already thought about that and come up with the perfect solution. An old friend of mine owns a ludus in Capua. The finest example in all of Rome if he is to be believed. Though he and his son are not of the noble class, they are certainly rich enough to be seen with us in public without any loss of face. Indeed, they have been so successful in the sport that one of their stock even achieved freedom and is coming close to matching their wealth.” 

“The Lion of Capua!” Ilithyia’s former glee returned with a vengeance at the thought. “You know the proprietors of the Batiatus ludus!?!?!?!?” 

Albinius’ shoulders shook with mirth at his daughter’s clear excitement. Ever since she was a little girl she had absolutely adored the Games. “Indeed I do. My friend’s son is running the ludus now, and he has agreed to lend their family services to you that they might help see you established in Capua. They will set the house with the basics of furnishings until the main stock from this villa can be carted in to proper levels of grandeur, provide you with a comprehensive tour of the city, and the local Merchant Council has even arranged for a gladiatorial tournament in your honor to celebrate our new position.”

“My honor? Why would games honor me?”

“Because in my absence you represent me. Please try to pay attention, darling. You will be my unofficial representative in the city while I am gone, and the locals all know it. Listen to Batiatus, show good face to good practices, and make me proud. I will return to join you within the month.” 

Clasping her hands together beneath her chin, Ilithyia proclaimed, “Oh, father, I cannot wait!” Though she’d started with a bit of annoyance that her former plans had been wrecked, all of that had been replaced with expectation. Grand expectation. A chance to see the Lion’s famed abs for herself!!!!!

One Week Later

Ilithyia looked down at the view from her new home and couldn’t help the delighted laughter that bubbled up from her throat if she’d tried. All of Capua was laid out on the rise below her and from the height of her new mansion it was almost as if she were Jupiter himself, looking down from the heavens upon her tiny subjects. The high was practically orgasmic. 

Before she could lead herself further down that particular train of thought, the demure voice of the head house slave announced the arrival of a visitor requesting the presence of the domina of the house. It was a request that the blonde had been ready for since arriving that morning, so she was already dressed, perfumed, and manicured to make her public debut in the city. Of course she’d have to no doubt deal with the envious gawking of whatever old man was associated with her father, but that was to be expected. 

However, all of her expectations went out the window when she arrived in the mansion foyer to find not an old man… not a man at all really… and instead waiting for her was perhaps the single most statuesque and beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her body, visible in every contour through the light silk of her dress, was svelte perfection with just the right hint of muscle; her hair glowing red as fire in the light of the windows, was bound up on top of her head in the latest Roman fashion; her features were angular and aristocratic in the best way, a fact that made it utterly impossible to accurately judge how old she was. In short, this was the image of a woman that Ilithyia had dreamed of someday becoming. 

The Senator’s daughter gulped, regained control of herself, and far more regally approached the stranger with her hands held before her. When the other woman grasped them in her own upon meeting they leaned in together and lightly kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting. “My apologies, madam, I was not expecting…” 

“A woman?” The stranger smirked knowingly and folded one of the host’s hands into her arm before wheeling them both around to start heading for the door. “Quintus was called away on business a few days past and I was asked to take care of your needs in his stead. Apparently one of his local traders sailed into port with a fresh brig full of new fighting stock and he and his father wanted to go take a look before Solonius got wind of it.”

“Solonius?” Ilithyia queried. 

“The only real competitor to the house of Batiatus in the Game of Arenas. An enviable position many would kill for, I am sure. You’ll learn quickly, I am sure, but everything in Capua revolves around the Arena. So he who controls the love of the crowd is the man that can get the most done.” 

“Fascinating. So you must be Batiatus’ wife?” 

The other woman rocked her head back and let loose with a laugh so loud it boomed around the large chamber quickly disappearing behind them from their swift passage. “Hardly. No, dear Lucretia is busy with other things….”

Meanwhile - Things - 

Lucretia was lost to the world in a realm of pleasure far beyond anything she could ever recall, her tongue literally lolling out of her mouth in ecstasy as her lover, her heart, the owner of her very soul, held her head down into the pillows and plowed her from behind as if she were the single most important field in all of creation. 

And all the while she could only wish for more, and more, and more, and for this experience to never end for as long as she held breath within her body! But more than that, for this to finally be the time that the seed of her love would finally spread and create the heir she knew he deserved. The heir that only she could give him. The heir that would inherit the world once his plans finally reached their fruition. Oh truly, was there any greater honor in this world than to be the eventual mother of a god?....

Meanwhile - The Ladies - 

“Anyway, she’ll be rather busy for at least another few hours if I were any guess. My name is Gaia.” 

Ilithyia gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand in a long since instinctual effort to hide the minute gap such an action normally revealed in her front teeth. “You are Gaia? ‘The’ Gaia? The First Lady of Capua? The wife of-” 

“The wife of the Lion, yes.” Gaia preened under the praise, but didn’t say anything else until she and her cargo were outside the house, bundled onto the waiting cart, and quickly trundling off toward the city below. “I take it then that you have heard of me?” 

“This is truth simpler than the sky is blue. Your name is whispered throughout all of Roman High Society. Every woman of means knows your name. They say you are the key to…” she trailed off, not sure if what she’d been about to say would offend. She needn’t have worried. 

“The key to the Lion’s loins, yes, I’ve been called that and more.” The smile hadn’t left Gaia’s face for one second. “I’ve facilitated more than a fair few liaisons with my husband and certain… ladies of merit. Why should I hog the delight that is my champion to myself? It would be the same as never sharing the purest elixir of life for want of singular immortality; a lonely existence if ever there was one in my opinion. Especially when other bitches are willing to put gold to lips… and other places… for a single night with him.”

“And this fame, this… infamy, it does not bother you?” Ilithyia had been rather certain that to be famous for actions that would classify one as a glorified madame would be off-putting to the person in question. In contrast, Gaia seemed rather… normal, and at peace with the reputation she had gained. 

Gaia laughed merrily and bumped her shoulder against the blonde’s. “If all the price I pay for the hand of my love and our continued prosperity is but the foul murmurs of those jealous to not constantly have him between their legs as he is mine, then that is a small thing to be sure. Especially when I know that same implication has made me wealthy beyond any of their dreams. Women that spill foul words in frustration mean naught, for salacious deeds are still done as favors in the night at those same women’s whims.” 

“I-I am sure.” Ilithyia really wanted to ask more about how such arrangements were made. Purely to assuage her own curiosity of course, but the gates of Capua were coming into focus ahead of their cart and it was more pressing that she put all of attention into putting the best foot forward. 

Meanwhile, Gaia was looking at the newly determined younger girl with a firm intensity that Lucretia would have said she ‘ knew well ’. Oh yes, this little noble was going to be such fun to play with… once the groundwork had been laid, of course. Her family didn’t have a blonde yet….

A Short Time Later

“What is with all of these shop signs?” Ilithyia asked with clear confusion written across her face, her eyes darting all over the place as she and Gaia traipsed congenially through the crowded market district arm in arm. And indeed, everywhere she looked, different stalls had banners painted of partially clothed men hanging from poles, and a multitude of signs stood outside varying shops painted one solid color or another. A surprising number were purple. 

“Eh, whatever could you mean, dear Ilythia?” Gaia looked down curiously at the slightly shorter woman. 

“Why do these places of business employ such strange items outside their shops. Were whit further from mind I’d think them advertising silk and jeweled baubles rather than” she gestured to one shop they passed, “weapons, and such.” 

“Ah.” Gaia nodded as understanding set in. Gesturing to one pole with a canvas image hanging of a muscular male she stated, “That particular clothing shop is currently hanging a likeness of Crixus, the current Champion of Capua.” 

“I thought the Lion was the Champion?” 

“Currently Harry is the Champion of Rome. He wasn’t here for the last Capuan Primus and Crixus took home the laurels in his place. Regardless, that shop has his likeness because Crixus wears their clothes to the arena when he competes. They pay him a stipend to wear ‘only’ their clothes when he goes out in public, or when he walks the path to the arena, a road that Quintus has long since started sending his stock through this very district to advertise.” 

“Whyever would a free market purveyor pay a slave for such an act?” 

“Because it is good business.” Gaia practically had metaphorical denarii glowing through her eyelids at the thought of how such wealth had begun to flow through the ludus because of such actions. “It was Harry’s idea. Marketing, he calls it. Gladiators are so famed, so renowned, and so loved by the people, that if the common folk see their idols wearing local items, then surely the common folk would want to buy the same. He shared the idea with Quintus Batiatus, as his manager, and Quintus approached every business owner in Capua to offer his slaves as ‘marketers’ of their brands. Of course Solonius was quick to copy the act, but the origins come from the house of Batiatus. Several of our other champions are involved as well. Should you spend more time in this district you’ll be sure to find images for the likes of Gannicus, Oenomaus, and others.”

Nodding back to the post, she said, “Local businesses make a killing, literally, depending on how well their sponsored fighter does on the sands. And the fighters make a pretty denari as well towards paying off their contracts, or supplying themselves with their baser desires, depending on the want of the slave.” 

As they passed a blacksmither with a wooden sign painted purple, she added, “The same goes for smiths. Purple is my husband’s color. The color of his waist wraps and cloaks. The shop has his color out front to show that he either makes or repairs the Lion’s weapons and armor. As you can see, the size is matched nearly by the Lion’s prominence.” 

And indeed, Ilithyia could see that very well. Now that she was looking closer at the business in question, she saw that instead of one mere shop as she’d expected, the forge was instead a series of forges that extended down the street near to the end of the entire market district! There must have been a dozen different blacksmiths working under the same elongated roof at once, a fact that explained why one smithy had so many of the purple signs displayed. “That is quite the business model.” 

“Especially so when you consider every major fight Harry partakes in requires a different sword. And every sword is sold after the match to the highest bidder. The buyer then has a direct example of master craftsmanship. Such a person might ask the maker to make them something similar. My husband gets a percentage of such business dealings as well.” 

“And it all comes back to the Lion.” Ilithyia breathed with awe. “Gaia, just how wealthy are you?” 

“More than enough for myself, but less than Harry should like. Now come along and I’ll introduce you to the heads of the local guilds.” 

And that’s just what she did. For the next two hours Gaia carted Ilithyia through Capua and played the go-between for all of the local influential figures and the representative of their newest Senator. Most were ecstatic to have the chance to meet her, and some even came with gifts. However, there were also the few that made pointed statements about what was ‘expected’ of Albinius when he claimed his office officially. Ilithyia expected they were some of the people her father owed favors to for helping him claim his seat in Rome. She elected to keep a special eye on their activities until the man could arrive and deal with them himself. 

Though the highlight of the blonde’s day came after all those wrinkly old men finally took their leave of the street, leaving a single solitary figure waiting in their wake. A figure whose features were hidden in the shadow of a hooded purple cloak. Ilithyia had one moment to think that she was sure someone had mentioned something about a purple cloak and skirt before her guide shed all of her former composure and squeed like an ecstatic child before breaking free of her charge and leaping into the stranger’s arms. 

For her part, Ilithyia was blushing scarlet at the wanton way Gaia was shoving her tongue down the mystery man’s throat, and furthermore from the way that same action pushed back the coverings of the cloak to reveal an incredibly muscular and chiseled torso. Only the mental reminder that she was a married woman allowed her to come back to herself, but the noblewoman still managed to save an image of the sight to her memory for… personal time later. After all, being home alone while her husband was off to war was a lonely endeavor, and some warmth, even by her own hands, was surely justified. 

After a few moments the couple finally split apart, and the blonde had just enough time to take note of a pointed goatee sticking out from the shadows of the hood and a pair of luminous, deep, and… entrancing green eyes before her redheaded companion took her hand and pulled her forward. 

“Dear Ilithyia, you are fortunate. My husband has put swift will to habitually long tasks and made his way to us before the day was through. Allow me to introduce you to the Lion of Capua.”

Chapter Text

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Spartacus. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love. 

Chapter Eleven - Events Set In Motion 

Ilithyia was enraptured at what she beheld. True to the expectations set at the time of her arrival, a series of games had been set up to honor her and her family. The arena of Capua wasn’t as large, nor as grand, as some of the venues she’d patronized over the years, but its legacy was far more storied. Giants of the arena such as the Lion, Crixus the Stone Wall, Gannicus the Invincible, Oenomaus the Survivor, all had started on these sands and risen to become living legends. 

Now she was watching bout after bout from a place of high honor with Gaia seated at her side. Initially the top box had also held a few dozen businessmen and local government officials, and she’d paid the proper amount of lip service to their clear jostling for favor, but once the festivities had shown signs of beginning they had all left to claim their seats. At first the blonde was curious why, but then trumpets had sounded and the two men set to open the games came onto the sands and began an intricate dance. 

Leaning over to her guide, Ilithyia asked, “Whatever are those men doing?” 

“Oh?” Gaia looked over the railing and started cooling her face with a richly colored feather fan. “Barca and Oreon? They are ‘ showing the crowd the goods ’ as my Harry calls it. Observe; see how they lunge, how they flex, how their muscles are perfectly oiled to catch the light? See the grace of their movements? In the House of Batiatus we recognize that the Arena is more than a mere place of bloodshed and chaos. Rather, it is a place of showmanship. A place for the mob’s fantasies and deepest desires to be made manifest. The Games are power, and power must be displayed where it does the most good. What better stage for it than this? These men have trained hard for years to please the crowd; and the crowd, seeing that effort, loves them for it.” 

Ilithyia watched more closely, and once she finally managed to stop drooling over all of the finely displayed man-meat she saw that her companion was exactly right. The cheers of the locals had risen at least eight octaves in volume since this show had begun. Men had started beating their chests with their women ripping their clothes off with lust and excitement, and even her former supplicants’ faces were turning red from screaming right along with the others. 

That last piqued her interest as well, and she discovered the cause moments later as the horns sounded for the second time. With the booming nose Barca stepped into the center of the space and pointed from one important man to the next to single them out as he announced, “Capua! I dedicate this fight to you! All that I am is of you! The fine food that made me strong was bought and supplied by Citizen Antonius! My pauldrons were forged and fitted by Blacksmith Remus! The clothing that, the gods willing, I shall wear out of this arena were made and provided by Citizen Marene! And my body was trained by the House of Batiatus! My victory is for you!” 

The second man made a similar speech, but Ilithyia made note that Gaia quickly lost interest in any further proceedings on the sands, instead moving over to a plate of fresh grapes. Her motions were easy and agile, and after retrieving a bushel she settled back into her cushions with greater grace than many Senator’s wives that the blonde had known. 

“You lose interest so soon, friend Gaia?” Ilithyia sat back down as well, but at an angle where she at least could still keep an eye on the proceedings. The fighters had retrieved their spears and were beginning to circle each other. 

“I can already guess the outcome.” Gaia waved a hand dismissively and the slave girl that the Roman woman had seen her guide leave at the door came up and placed a fresh goblet of wine in her fingers. The two shared a fond smile and the slave returned to her waiting position. “Barca is from the House of Batiatus, and Oreon is from the stalls of Solonius. Lessor stock, though the bastard likes to brag they are better than they truly are. Our men are trained far more efficiently, are more experienced, and have a lot more to prove.” 

“Prove? To whom?” 

“To Harry of course. Have I not explained full thought to eager ears as yet? All of the original stock in our house purchased their own freedom some time ago; with a few minor exceptions. They stay in the Arena to show my husband that he was right to believe in them. That he was right to show them the way forward. They want to be what he is. Men above all other men. In comparison, Solonius’ jackals fight only to survive; and that is why they will always fail.” 

“Hm.” Ilithyia watched for a while, and soon picked up the minute ways that the fighters differed in ability. Yes, she’d made many a study of gladiators in their natural habitats, and she decided that her new friend was right. “Is it always Batiatus and Solonius against each other?” 

Gaia shrugged. “Our city is large, but not so large as to always have equal competition at hand in times of need. As the biggest ludus’s in Capua we do end up against each other in the rankings fairly often, but there’s always a few upstarts from other towns who wish to test their metal against real champions. There are a few in the coming bouts that you’ll see. It just worked out that this round had the matchings that it did.”

“Interesting.” The blonde was getting a mental picture of the real politics at play in the city and it was just so fascinating that she couldn’t help putting her other worries far from her mind. In Rome, the government officials and their families were the ones that held the most sway. Yet here, it seemed those that could most meet the desires of the mob had the most power. In Capua a simple Lannista could become more powerful than a Senator in the capitol. Yes, she would remember this well, and she would make sure her father knew that he simply must spend as much time in public with his Batiatus friend as he could. A process that she was going to get a head start on by visiting their ludus at her first opportunity. 

The bout ended much the way Gaia had foretold. The duo danced around each other on the field, each seeking the final blow that would see them victorious, but Barca proved the far more motivated, and his thrusts and swipes moved at paces and accuracy far exceeding the capabilities of his foe. It wasn’t long before Oreon was left bleeding on the sands from a dozen fresh holes pulsing out of his body and money began changing hands to settle wagers. 

Ilithyia found the outcome fascinating. “Barca could have finished the other man off right away, couldn’t he have? The way he moved, I’d have expected iron to meet tender flesh in but a heartbeat.”

Gaia nodded and took another delightful sip of her wine. Diona always knew how to choose the very best vintages. “Easily. But he understands that the people came here for a show, so he made sure to provide one. Keep a close eye, you’ll see our other warriors act much the same way.” 

“It seems more risk than reward could gather.” 

“As my husband is fond of saying, all the world's a stage . A better showing can mean better sponsors willing to put coin to training and marketing.” 

And watch she did. The blonde ravenously ate up the violence, bloodshed, and pure unadulterated masculinity on display for the next two hours, and she admitted rather easily that those that hailed from the Batiatus ludus did indeed offer the best performances of the lot. And the mob seemed to love them all the more for it. 

In that two hours the Roman woman learned more about the intricacies of politics than years spent under her father’s tutelage. She witnessed slaves cheered as heroes. She witnessed guards who led them back to their cells booed for simply doing their jobs. She witnessed the fortunes of merchants and other sordid professionals rise and fall depending on just whose blood littered the sands at the end of each vicious bout of combat. It was a world within a world. A reality where everything that you were, and everything that you could ever be, could be elevated or utterly destroyed in a matter of seconds. It was absolutely intoxicating in a way that left her weak in the knees. 

Sensing that very fact relatively easily, Gaia waited until the last primary fighter had passed, and then noted, “The festivities here are about finished, minus the final bout, but if you wanted a more ‘personal’ look at our wares, the ludus is always open to one of your particular esteem.” All part of the plan. The more exposure Harry had to the woman, the more likely he was to make her his; and, by the gods, did Gaia want to play with this one.

Gaia grew flushed at the very notion. “Truly?” 

“Oh yes, my husband would especially be excited to see more of you. I’d wager I could get him to let you watch him train too. Imagine it, my husband, sweaty and glistening in the noonday light as he beats four men at once into submission….” She trailed off with a final wink. Just as she’d hoped, her companion’s face immediately grew red with heat as her mind overloaded on the image.

But before she could press that particular button further, the horns for the final conflict sounded, and the crowd roared louder than ever. The squee the blonde gave as she saw Gaia’s husband take the sands was music to her ears. As was the sight of the girl’s thighs pinching close. Ilithyia played the model of a proper Roman lady well, but inside, Gaia could tell, she was just as lustful in nature as she was. 

That said, she recognized a faithful nymphomaniac when she saw one (it was hard not to when she got so much practice looking at herself in the mirror in her bedroom) so she elected to orchestrate every possible opportunity to expose her to her husband just as she had with her darling Lucretia. It would take a bit of time, but she vowed to make it happen. Mwahahahahaha!

Meanwhile, down on the sands, Harry had just finished providing his own show along with his public thanks to the citizens that had made his armor and sponsored his training equipment, and now he was stretching lightly as the gates opposite him began to creak open. Solonius had long since wizened up to the fact that anyone he sent to fight the Lion was bound to come back in a sack. A sad end to a long term investment. So instead, if Harry ever wanted a challenge, he had to go with a bit of creative thinking to make it happen. It was almost funny, the challenges that came with reaching the pinnacle of your occupation. 

Luckily, there were always more than a few prominent citizens in Capua happy to pony up the denari to have their names associated with a fine showing. And based on the screeching he heard sounding from the shadows of the opposite enclosures… those rich fuckers had kept the practice strong. And as the fever pitch of the people reached a crescendo he finally saw what it was that his benefactors had brought for him. 

Three large baboons, or small apes, it was hard to tell. But each looked crazed, hungry, and ready to tear the first thing they saw limb from limb. It just so happened that they saw him before anything else, and the moment they did the guards holding their chains lost any chance of keeping them in check. 

The beasts roared with hunger, or plain aggression, it was impossible to tell, and ripped their guide chains free of the Roman’s hands as they began charging toward the single warrior that awaited them. 

Harry slipped his blades free of his belt and smirked as the first, the smallest and fastest of the lot, slipped the range of the others and charged at him like a bat out of hell. Swift, agile, but stupid. 

Harry waited, he tensed his muscles and willed his perception of time to quicken, but he didn’t dodge. No… he waited until the fist of the beast grazed his shoulder in an attempt to knock him to the ground, and used the push as momentum to spin on his opposite heel and chop back the way he came. There was a brief moment of resistance as his gladius tore through the ape’s spinal cord and then the second one was on him. 

This time Harry didn’t dodge. No, he let the primate tackle him, losing the sword in the process, but he rolled with the blow, swept the legs out and grappled its limbs until he was on its back with his arms around its muscular throat. A hard yank, a sudden pop, and he was left facing the third as he rolled back to his feet. 

This one was smarter than the others. Hunger and fear had not yet destroyed its mind, and it watched as its brethren fell, taking it all in, and circling the human as it looked for any possible weakness. In response, Harry drew his second gladius and started clanging the flat of the blade against the metal of his shin guards, baiting the beast with a smile on his face. 

With no other options presenting themselves the primate charged him, but it wasn’t a wild run. No, it attempted to swerve at the last second and sweep his feet out as the human had to its cohort. Harry nimbly dodged the attempt and chopped down… hard. 

The ape screeched as one of its hands separated from its body, and attempted a shoulder check that the human evaded before slipping behind it and cutting free its tail. It felt a bit odd to play with his food, but a show was a show. 

Now hurt, desperate, and lusting for vengeance, the animal dropped to all fours, now three, and barreled into his enemy. A move that only succeeded in one eventuality, driving the tip of Harry’s weapon under its chin and into its brain. A thoughtful beast in the end, but a beast all the same. 

As the people began to chant his name he pulled the gladius free, retrieved its twin, and stabbed each point-first into the center of the arena, then offered a lion’s roar that shook the walls around him, and finally waved to the top box before returning through the gate he’d arrived from. 

Meanwhile, Gaia was smirking at the little gasps her guest was letting out. Death and love. Carnage and lust. Combinations she knew well. Combinations that could set a soul alight with emotions it had never before known. “Come, Ilithyia. The festivities have reached their end, and I would treat you to wine up at the ludus.” 

“I-I had not expected an invite so soon.” The noblewoman noted in a dazed voice. 

Well, Gaia couldn’t admit she’d been working to catch the other woman off guard on purpose could she? “Well it is not so far a trip, all things considered, and as we’ve sat here I could not help putting sad thoughts to the prospect of you staying in that new house all alone. Better to be amongst friends, if possible, while awaiting your vaunted father’s arrival in Capua. Would you not agree?”

“O-Of course.” The blonde cleared her throat self-consciously and suddenly noticed the clear signs of arousal peaking out on the surface of her silk dress top. She hurriedly crossed her arms and stood to follow her friend under the awning of the box to start their trek back to their waiting cart. As they progressed, she had to ask, “W-Why did the Lion leave his swords behind?” 

“A challenge.” The older woman answered simply, her keen eyes not missing for a second all the physical signs that showed the blonde had deeply appreciated what she’d seen that day. “One of the weapons will be put up for sale as a Beast Killer. My husband will make quite a profit off of its auction. The other…well, if anyone picks it up before the next Games then they’ll have a chance to fight him one on one. A direct and open challenge. Many give loud voice to wild thought, but few put deed to lips to match appropriate action. That challenge is a message my husband gives to Capua every time he fights.” 

“What message?” 

“I am here. I am undefeated. And none dare challenge me.” 

“Incredible.” Gaia blushed as red as her dress as she climbed nimbly up into the cart and sat beside her guide. “It almost sounds as if there were not a soul alive that the Lion wouldn’t flinch to match steel and deed with.” 

At that statement, Gaia made her first frown of the day. She waited until the cart started to roll-on to ensure what she said next would be covered by the creaking of wood and metal against stone underfoot. “There is one that my Love would choose not to fight.” 

Ilithyia’s ears pricked up at that statement. “Truly? And who might that be?” 

“Theokoles. The Albino. Years ago, when Harry first became the Champion of Capua, his friend and teacher, Oenomaus, made him promise that he would never fight the man. I believe Oenomaus wants to finish him himself, but a promise is a weighty thing for my husband. He would not break his word even should the Albino himself walk into that arena and snatch up the blade to taunt him.”

“Oenomaus versus Theokoles, I believe I heard of that fight.” Ilithyia nodded. “They say the Albino must be part troll, or at the very least gifted by the gods. They say no man can kill him. Perhaps Oenomaus, having barely survived his clash, warned beloved friend to keep life within body against impossible odds?”

“Perhaps. Though I think I like my idea better. But tell me, what was your favorite thing about Harry’s physique?” 

Ilithyia gasped playfully. “Dear Gaia, whyever would you ask that of me?” Though her mind’s eye did flash back to the brief view she’d taken in of the man’s muscular quads when he’d been wrestling that beast into the sand. 

Gaia waited until she saw the girl’s eyes glaze in heated remembrance, and then waved a hand negligently in the air. “If I know what you like, I can put thought to further training that might enhance vitality of body.” She winked playfully. “And what you like, others will too, no doubt. My husband’s callers will increase, along with our fortunes.” 

“Oh, Gaia, you truly are bad.” Ilithyia laughed. 

“Only as bad as my friends. And we should be friends, dear Ilithyia.” She leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Friends receive ‘ all sorts ’ of extra benefits.” 

Meanwhile

Lucretia observed the bustling of her slaves with pride as they continued to set up a room in her villa for the arrival of their new guest. Though she was not thrilled to potentially be adding another lover to her man’s life, she could not deny that Harry deserved the best of everything as a matter of principle. So of course a Roman noble was fair game. 

She sighed and crossed her arms as she turned her attention to the men below continuing to run their drills. She also knew that after the massive setback last week he needed an emotional boost as well. Harry had explained to her how volatile gunpowder was, but she couldn’t have guessed that a random spark would be all it would take to set half the weapon factory ablaze. When all was said and done they had only managed to save a handful of cannons and three hundred rifles. The melee weapons were hardier and the hoard of their finished products had survived mostly intact since the bulk of them had been stored in a neighboring shed, rather than the main facility. The workers were busy making more ranged weapons, but it was an incredibly labor intensive process. 

Perhaps some new flesh would ease her lover’s pain. And perhaps sharing that flesh would make Gaia happy. Oh how she wished with all of her being to make them both happy. And with Quintus gone for the next few days yet, they would have the place all to themselves…. 

Her hands fell to her stomach then and a soft smile came to her face. She wasn’t sure yet. Not one hundred percent, as her Harry would say. But she had just missed the window in which certain bodily functions normally took place. Would he be happy when he found out? She hoped he would. But more than that, she prayed that the sign he was waiting for to begin his war would arrive before the birth. For one way or another events would occur to take the choice out of his hands. 

Harry, she knew, would never let another man take on the role of a father for his child. So Quintus would have to die; and with him, the myth of a loyal gladiator that served. 

The era of conquest was coming; and with it, the world tearing asunder. It would be a sight that she believed would marvel even the knowing eyes of the gods.