Defiant Submission Previously Titled: A Party Most Vile
Lucius Verus x OFC
Mutual non-con, Slavery, Angst, Shame, Fatherhood (please check out all the tags listed on Ao3 for full content warning)
Rated: E Total Word Count: 27,502
Chapter 1: A Party Most Vile on Ao3 or tumblr Chapter 2: An Heir on Ao3 or tumblr Chapter 3: Ragged Breaths on Ao3 or tumblr Chapter 4: An Unearned Punishment on Ao3 or tumblr NEW! Chapter 5: The Binding of Fates on Ao3 or under the cut↓
Chapter Excerpt: Acacius's firm expression softened into one of sympathy. “I know and I understand,” he murmured with sincerely, “If we fail, the cost will be great. Greatest of all for you. But the cost of doing nothing is far greater! Every life in Rome is at stake! Including your son's.”
Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics
Lucius stood in the center of the arena. The full moon hung above him, but its eerie light was blood-red, casting everything in shades of crimson. A short sword rested in his right hand, the blade gleaming with scarlet light. Lucius turned, searching for his opponent, but saw no one else in the arena. A roar rose up from the crowd like a tidal wave. It was not a cheer for him. Nor was it an angry demand for his death. It just was. It swelled and swelled until Lucius thought his ears would burst. He tightened his grip on the sword and closed his eyes as the sheer volume threatened to overwhelm him.
And then, the sands rolled under his feet. The roar of the crowd melted into the sound of rushing water. Lucius opened his eyes and nearly gasped. He stood at the edge of a raging river. The water was spilling over the banks, beginning to flood the field where he stood. Further downstream, on the other side, he saw Naevia holding little Maximus in her arms. The overflowing river splashed against her feet, growing deeper and deeper with each passing second. Lucius’s heart beat with terror. They needed to leave, or the river would sweep them away! He called to her, screamed her name again and again. But she didn’t hear him. Throwing the sword aside, Lucius ran downstream, trying desperately to get her attention. He screamed and shouted and waved his arms. But nothing caught her attention, not even the water lapping at her knees. As Lucius cried out to her one final time, his foot stumbled and he fell into the water.
He wasn’t sure how long he was underwater. It felt like years, centuries even. It was peaceful in the water. The raging current that had pulled him under was non-existent in the depths. He floated gently along like any other piece of debris without a care or need. He would have stayed there forever if he could. But he felt the waters bending around him, forcing him to the surface.
He gasped for breath as he was thrown upon a rocky shore. The stones were smooth from years underwater. Each jagged edge washed away to nothing by time itself. “Lucius,” a voice above him said. A voice he knew. A voice he would never forget until his dying day. He was afraid; he was terrified to see her. But he also couldn’t resist. He needed her.
Slowly, Lucius lifted his head and looked up. Arishat stood over him. She wore the same dress she had worn on their wedding day, a simple garment dyed a soft blue. Her hair was loose around her, waiving in the light breeze. And she was smiling. Lucius thought he would never see that smile again. She knelt down and placed a hand on his cheek. “Lucius,” she whispered again.
Lucius shuddered and he held back tears. Her touch was solid and real. But he knew she was no more than a ghost. He lifted himself to his knees and looked into his wife’s eyes as she lovingly caressed his cheek. “That is not the name you called me in life,” he whispered to her.
Arishat’s smile fell and her look grew serious. “It is not a name you ever shared with me while I lived,” she replied.
“I am sorry,” he plead as his tears fell.
With another loving touch against his face, she said, “There is much you never told me.”
Lucius’s jaw trembled as he replied, “There is much I wanted to forget.”
She nodded slowly and turned away from him, looking somewhere off in the distance.
Lucius sprung to his feet. He reached for her but stopped short when he saw where she was looking. Further down the shore stood Naevia. He back was turned to them, but she was clearly holding Maximus in her arms. He could hear his son’s soft cries while she sang to him.
Arishat turned back to him slowly. Lucius trembled as he met her gaze, and fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. There was no anger in her look. He had expected anger from his always jealous wife. But instead, there was only deep, unyielding sadness radiating from deep within her. Even through her sadness, she smiled up at him and said, “In another life, our farm is beautiful and full of children.”
Lucius opened his mouth to reply but Arishat pressed a finger to his lips and said, “Go to them.”
Lucius shook his head, completely dumbstruck. He could not– would not leave her! He heard Maximus crying in the distance. But he didn’t dare look away from Arishat. Not when he knew her spirit could leave him just as quickly as she had come. “Please,” he whispered to her, “Stay with me!”
She smiled at him and stroked his cheek, dragging her fingers through his beard. She looked like she wanted to say yes, but all she whispered was, “In another life…”
---
Lucius’s eyes flew open. He was laying on his side in his cold cell. In truth, he was surprised he had managed to fall asleep. Between the pain of his wounds and the pain of his heart, there would be no peace for him. Not to mention, his mortal enemy was lying less than ten feet away from him. Lucius didn’t hear any snoring or heavy breathing. More than likely, Acacius hadn’t found rest either.
Lucius watched as the dawn arrived, spilling its meager light through his tiny window, while his mind raced with possibilities. Acacius’s coup must have been discovered. That was the only possible explanation for why Rome’s beloved general lay chained in the bowels of the Colosseum. In the distance, Lucius heard Vigo rousing the other gladiators, dragging a loose piece of iron over the bars of the cells. The sound was skull splitting when it was near. But, in the distance, it was no more than a dull, morning bell.
Lucius watched as Acacius sat up on his cot and stretched his limbs. In the daylight, Lucius could clearly see the injuries Acacius had sustained. His left eye was blackened and another, larger bruise marked his neck. More bruises and small cuts trailed down his arms. He held a hand to his chest as he stretched carefully, hissing quietly as he did. At least one of his ribs was broken, maybe more. Lucius felt no pity for the man. It was far, far less than he deserved. Than the destruction he had caused.
Acacius glanced at Lucius and the two men met eyes. Normally, Lucius would avoid eye contact with others in the Colosseum. But this time, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. It felt like backing down from a challenge. All the hate Lucius felt for the general bubbled up and threatened to boil over. Right in front of him was the man who was responsible for Arishat’s death. Lucius flexed his hand and touched the small ring on his smallest finger: the last piece of her that he still carried with him. Most days he didn’t think about the ring. It had become a part of his skin, a part of him, indistinguishable from the rest of his weary soul. His hand clenched into a fist and his jaw tightened.
Acacius’s face twitched and he gave Lucius a long once over. The general must have been put off by the brutal glare Lucius gave him. Acacius opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching. Both men became alert and looked to see who was coming.
Ravi rounded the corner with his medicine bag and his usual expression of general worry. Without even meaning to, Lucius relaxed. Anyone but the doctor would have been an unwelcome presence. Ravi turned the key in the lock as Lucius sat up, hissing as his wounds flexed with his muscles. Ravi knelt in front of his cot and looked him up and down, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Did you find any rest in the night?” he asked with mild concern.
Lucius grunted his reply, “Sleep? Yes. Rest? No.”
Ravi shook his head lightly, “If you do not find a way to rest, it will take four times as long for you to recover. And what is this?” Ravi gestured to the new wound on his knee.
“You can thank Macrinus’s guards,” Lucius replied sourly.
Ravi tutted as he knelt in front of Lucius. “Idiots, the lot of them!” he murmured as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a jar Lucius recognized. It was the salve he used to treat most minor injuries. As soon as the lid was removed, the whole cell was filled with the overpowering scent of beeswax and frankincense. Ravi smeared the salve over the cut in one, swift motion. Lucius barely felt the sting that accompanied the medicine. He had grown almost immune to it over his year of his enslavement in the Colosseum.
After he had finished bandaging the knee, Ravi declared, “There! Now, lay down on your stomach.”
Lucius followed the doctor’s command and slowly laid himself on his cot. Ravi opened another jar and used his hands to smear a thick helping of paste over his wounds. This paste had no smell and no sting. But Lucius still grit his teeth in agony at the pressure against his tender wounds. He refused to let any sound of pain pass his lips. He would not have Acacius hear him crying out like a child. But, as always, he eventually grew accustomed to the pain and found his voice steady enough to speak. “Thank you,” Lucius murmured, “For your words yesterday.”
Ravi hummed, “Then you’ve made peace with your woman?”
Lucius flexed his jaw, “She’s not my woman, as I told you. But yes, we made peace.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Ravi said with sincerity. “It is not often that gladiators heed my advice.” He extended his hand to Lucius and helped him sit up.
“Yet you still give it?” Lucius asked curiously.
Ravi smirked and said, “Only to those who have brains enough to hear me.”
Lucius shook his head, “You think too highly of me.”
Ravi laughed loudly and shook his head as he gathered up his medicines. “Perhaps I do. But I don’t think it without cause.”
Lucius didn’t reply to that. He didn’t know what to say. Ravi finished packing up his bag and stood. “Remember what I said,” he called to Lucius, “Without rest, you will not heal.”
Lucius nodded but replied with, “I believe Macrinus intends for me to start training again today.”
“No such thing will happen,” Ravi said assuredly, “I have already spoken to him.”
Lucius was genuinely surprised. It must have shown on his face, for Ravi continued, “Whatever you did to upset him, it doesn’t supersede your value as a gladiator.”
Lucius held back a scoff, “Ever the businessman.”
“Indeed,” Ravi chuckled.
Ravi exited his cell and locked the door behind him. Then, Ravi turned to Acacius who was sitting on his cot watching them with a curious expression. Ravi gave him a long look before he approached Acacius’s cell. “I have been instructed not to open your cell under any circumstances,” Ravi said plainly.
Acacius nodded his understanding.
Ravi continued, “But I can still examine you through the bars if you wish for my treatment.”
Without a word, Acacius stood and lumbered over to the door of his cell. Ravi prodded and poked him in several places. Lucius watched with pleasure as Acacius winced and grunted. “You have two broken ribs,” Ravi announced, “But that seems to be the worst of it. Do you have any open wounds?”
Acacius lifted his left arm to show Ravi a cut on the underside of his bicep. Ravi clicked his tongue and adjusted his position so he could treat the wound. The scent of frankincense filled the air again and Lucius knew that Ravi was slathering the cut with the same salve he was treated with. When he was done, Ravi asked, “Anything else?
Acacius murmured a low, “No,” and softly shook his head.
“You must keep still,” Ravi told Acacius, in much the same tone he had used with Lucius, “There is nothing I can do for your ribs. Only time and rest will heal you.”
Acacius nodded. Ravi packed up his bag and spared Lucius a final glance. “Hanno,” he called, “I will return in the evening to put on more of the paste.”
Lucius nodded and then the doctor left, his footsteps quickly growing faint and distant.
Acacius gave Lucius an apprehensive glance. Lucius returned it with a glare that could split mountains. Acacius opened his mouth, but hesitated as Lucius continued to stare at him with unblinking eyes. Finally, Acacius seemed to grow tired of waiting for Lucius’s mood to shift and said, “I believe your mother is being kept in the Emperors’ villa.”
Lucius didn’t move. His expression remained as icy as ever.
Acacius cleared his throat and said, “I am not sure what they have planned for her. But if we act quickly, the Emperors won’t have a chance to harm her.”
Again, Lucius remained unmoved. Acacius had been so eager to do the evil Emperors’ bidding mere months ago. If his sudden change of heart had come earlier, then Arishat and all of Numidia would have been spared. But no. The lives of the common people were of no importance to such a man. He could wait, take his time making up his mind while thousands suffered and burned under his orders.
Acacius shifted his weight impatiently as he waited for Lucius to reply. As the moments dragged into minutes, the general finally asked, “Lucius?”
“What?” he spat out with more venom than he intended. But it felt good to see Acacius recoil at the spite thrown at him.
Acacius recovered himself quickly and took a step forward, leaning his weight against the bars of his cell and pressing his face to an opening. With resolute assuredness, he said, “Both our lives, your mother’s life, and the lives of countless others, all depend upon what we do right now!”
Lucius was taken aback by his fervent declaration. “What are you proposing?” He asked, doing his best to sound disinterested and unaffected.
Acacius shrugged somewhat sheepishly and said, “Revolt.”
“Among the gladiators?” Lucius asked in annoyed disbelief. “I already told Lucilla, I cannot take part in such a thing!”
Acacius's firm expression softened into one of sympathy. “I know and I understand,” he murmured with sincerely, “If we fail, the cost will be great. Greatest of all for you. But the cost of doing nothing is far greater! Every life in Rome is at stake! Including your son's.”
Great moments of fate were often mentioned in songs and stories. The ancient poems Lucius learned as a boy had saturated his brain with all sorts of chivalrous ideals. Good soldiers defending the innocent. Benevolent kings sparing the masses. Mortal men standing in defiance of the gods. All the stories were the same in one regard: the hero would be faced with a choice. To turn back or to push forward. To cower or to fight. To submit or to rebel.
In his youth, Acacius had likely learned all the same stories, been inspired by the same heroes. But children’s stories were not real life. Even if the stories were true as the historians claimed, they certainly didn’t paint the full picture. Or maybe those heroes never had children of their own to consider.
Lucius scoffed and pensively murmured. “I see a fork in the road before me. If I turn to my right, my son will live his life as a slave. If I turn to my left, he will surely die.” Lucius shook his head and added, “There is no choice to be made.”
Acacius’s face softened and he sighed. After a moment, he said, “I understand the pain of this choice. I cannot guarantee that no harm will come to him. But, if we do this right, Macrinus won’t have time to react before we have finished him.”
Lucius turned to face the opposite wall. The only thing he had to look at was the narrow window facing west. It was empty except for the bars blocking his view and a glimmer of gray clouds. It would be hours until the sun's warmth would creep into his cell. And, at that point, it would be too hot to do anything but wish for the coolness of the night.
“You said,” Acacius continued, “that the path to your right would guarantee your son lives as a slave. Is that the life you truly want for him?”
Lucius refused to turn back toward Acacius. How fucking dare he? he thought. He bit his tongue and continued to ignore the man who, in all technicality, was his step-father.
Acacius kept going, “Do you want to see him chained and shackled? Forced to serve cruel masters? Ripped away from his mother and sold to far away lands?”
Lucius's mind instantly conjured the images Acacius spoke into existence. A little boy, thin and dirty with bright eyes. But those eyes weren't defiant. They were broken and beaten from the very start. It would be no real life, but it was life nonetheless. “Fuck off,” Lucius hissed through gritted teeth.
But Acacius would do no such thing. “This is the life you would give him! His inheritance will be misery and suffering. He will toil day after day for thankless masters who spit upon him. And he will not know you. Is that what you want for your son?”
Acacius had no idea what he was talking about! Lucius had only been a father for a day, but he understood his responsibility to his son. Acacius, who had no children, could never understand what he was asking Lucius to do. He swung around and unleashed his glare upon the general. “I will not risk his life for your pathetic attempt to snatch power for yourself!”
Just then, Lucius heard something. A soft pattering, like footsteps. Like someone was trying to be very quiet as they approached. Like someone was listening to them.
“Have you heard nothing I said?" Acacius insisted in a harsh voice, "This isn't about power! This is about the lives of the people! The millions who's souls chafe under these tyrants!”
Lucius tried to block out Acacius’s voice as he strained to hear the noise in the hall. He took a step toward the bars of his cell. Acacius must have taken the motion as a sign of conviction for his voice grew louder as he continued, as if the volume of his words would change Lucius’s mind. “There is more you don’t know. My army has already been summoned. They will be here in-”
“Shh!” Lucius hushed urgently. He couldn’t understand how a man with such a practical, tactile mind could be so stupid! Lucius glanced towards Acacius and the older man had an expression of deep offense plastered across his face. Clearly, Acacius wasn’t used to being shushed. Nor of being eavesdropped upon. Lucius hissed in a low voice, “Keep silent unless you want the listeners to know all your plans.”
Acacius’s brow furrowed into even deeper annoyance.
Lucius sighed, “Why do you think Macrinus placed you across from my cell? He wants you to talk!”
Acacius’s expression shifted to one of understanding. He nodded solemnly and held up four fingers. Four days. The army would enter Rome in four days. And then, all hell would break loose.
Lucius regarded Acacius, the iron bars of their cells framing him in, like a great cat caught in a hunter’s snare. Pinned down and unable to move. But Acacius was a fighter. And, more importantly, he was brilliant. He had one of the greatest military minds in the whole world. He had destroyed Numidia in He was certainly set on seeing his plan through, with or without Lucius. And either way, Macrinus would assume that Lucius was at the center of it. Lucius swallowed the lump in his throat as Acacius’s earlier words ran through his mind. ‘His inheritance will be misery and suffering.’ Deep within him, Lucius knew it was true. That his actions right now would determine his son’s future.
Lucius looked back to Acacius and saw there was a sliver of hope in his eyes. Lucius could barely believe himself, but he gave Acacius a curt nod. Relief washed over Acacius’s face. And then, with brazen theatrics, Acacius practically shouted, “No! We must save the city, Lucius!” Acacius motioned silently for Lucius to join in as well.
Lucius let out a short huff and complied. “I won’t! I will have no part in this foolishness!”
“There will be no victory without you! There will be no uprising without you!” Acacius continued, his face gleaming with the smile of a trickster god.
Lucius had a thought that the general’s true calling was the stage, and fate had horribly misplaced him in the role of a military man. “Then there will be no uprising,” Lucius replied.
As the two men fell silent, Lucius heard the noise again. That soft pattering. But this time, it grew fainter, the footsteps leaving them behind. Acacius clearly also heard the noise, for he looked at Lucius with amazement. "How-"
"In this place," Lucius cut him off, "you listen or you die." It wasn't so much advice as it was a warning. Acacius gave him a nod of recognition and the two men slipped into another long silence. Lucius sat down on his cot and rested his elbows upon his knees.
With little else to do except ponder the wall, Lucius's mind returned to his dream. The rising waters troubled him. It was certainly an omen. A sign of the upheaval that would soon threaten to drown each of them. And then there was Arishat. How many times had he prayed for her soul to visit him? He had lost count long ago. In all the long months of his enslavement, she had not visited him once. Until now. She watched over him, he was certain. It was her hand that guided his steps and shielded his back. Arishat was the one who had kept him safe. Not the gods or his mother or anyone else.
In another life, she had said. But this one was the only one he had.
"So," Acacius murmured across their cells, "You will join us?"
"I will."
AN: Guess who has two thumbs and two more chapters of this fic for y'all?? Okay, well, the next two chapters are still a work in progress. The next one is outlined but the final chapter is basically complete! I work backwards, don't worry about it! This chapter is on the shorter side, but that last chapter is so long, I might split it in two. We'll see!!
I've been in a weird place with writing the last few weeks. But it is always so good to return to this fic. There's something about it that's just... easy. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!
As always, you sweet comments fill my days with joy! Please do not hesitate to leave one!
Peace and Love, Honeyfarts
