Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/Game of Thrones or any of its properties. I do not own Gladiator either. I merely a fan of the books, show, and the movie.

AN: This idea came to me while rewatching Gladiator for the...like...tenth time. I noticed the dynamic between Commodus & Lucilla was similar to Joffrey & Sansa. So, I figured to have them in the same roles with Jon in the role similar to Maximus. R plus L equals J happens in this fic. So, Jon is actually the true living heir. Some things will be similar to the movie, but others very different.

Very special thanks to LadyCarolineMichaelson from Tumblr for beta-ing this fic. :D

In Fire and Blood

I. The Wildling Horde

The northern wind cuts through Jon's exposed skin, sending a chill through him. Jon thinks to the small fireplace in his room, he yearns for the crackling fire burning in the hearth. For now, he'll have to settle for the warmth provided by heavy furs and layers of clothing.

Jon grips the reins attached to his horse with gloved hands. His eyes are forward as he waits for his father's messenger to return. Perhaps, Mance Rayder will be reasonable and return farther North with his horde of Wildlings. Father, Robb, and Jon will be able to return to Winterfell, this entire senseless battle can be prevented, and not a drop of blood would be shed today. That would be the best outcome, but also an unrealistic expectation.

A horse is galloping towards them with father's messenger on top. There are several arrows protruding from the man's body. The horse slows, and the messenger slides off the horse in one swift motion. Mance Rayder has sent his message, and not the message father or the emperor had hoped for. Jon's shoulders stiffen and his jaw clenches.

A horde of Wildlings are charging towards them, some on foot and others on horseback. Father pulls his sword of Valyrian Steel from its sheath. He raises his sword into the air before screaming "charge". Jon whips the reins attached to his horse, drawing his sword as the black horse charges forward. His breath is heavy as his hands clench around the blade of his sword. Robb and father pass him, swords both drawn.

Robb's sword clashes with a Wildling, unhorsing the man from his horse in one swift blow. Jon pulls against his horse reigns, dodging the unmanned horse with ease. A Wildling is charging towards Jon, wielding a large battle ax. Jon ducks, barely missing the blade. He rises and slashes his sword into the Wildling's side.

A fair haired woman is charging towards him on horseback, spear pointed towards him. The sight of a woman on the battlefield stalls him long enough for her to lodge the spear into Jon's horse. The horse shrieks as it stands on its hind legs. Jon is thrown from his horse, watching as it runs off with the spear still lodged in its chest.

Jon's head is spinning as he lays flat in the snow. He draws in a sharp breath as his hand feels for his sword. He feels for the end of the hilt and takes the sword back in hand. Jon rolls over onto his side, sticking his sword into the ground as he pulls himself to his feet.

His eyes begin to refocus as he searches for his father and Robb. Robb is still on top of his horse, cutting through an oncoming Wildling. Father is fighting on foot with Ice still in hand. Father's sword cuts through a wooden spear and cuts deep into the side of a burly Wildling. Jon slashes through a sea of soldiers, trying desperately to reach his father in the fray of sheep-skin clothed men. His sword blocks a heavy ax. Both his hands clutch tightly to the hilt of his long sword. Jon bites his lip. The Wildling towers over him, pushing his ax against Jon's blade with the might of three men.

Robb's blade swings against the Wildling's neck, taking it clean off in one slice. Blood spurts from the Wildling's neck before his body falls backwards. Robb grins to Jon from his horse before galloping back into the fray of Wildlings surrounding his father. Jon darts into the crowd, slashing through sheep-skin as he claws through the men and women pledged behind Mance Rayder.

They had underestimated the Wildling Horde by reducing them to merely incapable barbaric men. The men and women fight fierce in numbers that father had never anticipated. Jon blocks another oncoming blade with his long sword. He sucks in a deep breath of cold air. He drives the blade into the gut of a fair haired Wildling woman. Her blue eyes become blank, and Jon feels as if his heart is being crushed under the weight of a thousand stones. It's the first time he's killed a woman, and the feeling is more devastating than he could have ever imagined.

Jon hears the booming sound of a horn in the distance. He pulls his sword from the woman, letting her lifeless body fall into the snow beneath him. Jon's eyes raise forward to see the Emperor dressed in black and gold. He rides gallantly into battle on horseback holding a large hammer in hand. A gold crown of leaves rest on his head as Robert hoists his hammer above his head. His men are galloping behind him with swords drawn. Robert smashes his hammer into a Wildling's skull effortlessly. Jon wonders if Robert killed Emperor Aerys' first born son just as easily.

The Emperor's men rush into the fray of with swords held high, breaking through a cluster of Wildling men and women. Jon feels his adrenaline spike as he watches the Wildling Horde fall one by one. He sees his father's sword clashing against the sword of a bearded man. Jon's sword cuts through a Wildling man as he pushes further through the throng of sheep-skinned men and women, trying with all his might to reach his father.

Jon sees his father thrust Ice into the long haired Wildling man. Mance Rayder. The Wildling King has fallen. His horde is falling back and retreating North. Robert's army is cutting down the remaining men and women till not a Wildling is left standing. Jon's right hand grips his long sword as he scans the battlefield. What once was a blanket of white snow is now coated in both the blood and bodies of the dead. Snow is falling from above as adrenaline is still running through his veins. Jon should feel victorious, but he feels so horrible. Perhaps Father felt the same way when fighting by Robert's side so many years ago.

Robb slows his horse in front of both Jon and their father. Robb swings his leg over as he dismounts from the brown horse. Robb approaches Father first, embracing him tightly. Robb parts from Father and embraces Jon, his hands clapping Jon's shoulder before parting.

"It's good to see you alive, brother," Robb says.

"I was about to say the same for you," Jon says.

Father is approaching him. He embraces Jon. His father parts from him and looks down upon him with solemn grey eyes. "You fought well, Jon."

"It was a honor to fight by your side, father," Jon dips his head in a low bow. He rises and pivots towards Robb. "You as well, brother."

"The honor is mine," Robb says with a smile.

"Ned!"

Jon shifts his gaze to Robert. Robert approaches his father and squeezes him in a tight hug. Father and Robert both burst into laughter as they part from one another.

"It's been too long," his father says.

"You must visit more often! The senate, the wife - they're all thorns in my side," Robert grins. "Perhaps, if you were a senator…"

His father lets out a nervous laugh and says, "I'm honored, but my place is in Winterfell."

"I thought you would say that," Robert says. "But, you ought to visit more often. Not just for my sake, Ned. Sansa misses you as much as I do."

"How is she?" Father asks.

"Ask her yourself," Robert says. "She's riding here with my son as we speak."

The last time Jon had seen Sansa Stark, she was still but a child. He remembers her long red hair and blue eyes. She looked so much like her mother and took so much after Lady Catelyn. Even to the point that she referred to him as nothing more than her bastard half-brother. The day she left Winterfell, Sansa had hugged Robb the tightest. She'd embraced Rickon, and grudgingly gave Arya a simple goodbye. Bran was still unconscious from his fall, but Jon recalls her attempt to say goodbye to him while Bran still lay asleep. Sansa did not hug Jon nor did she say goodbye to him. She was her mother's daughter, and Jon's birth was the very symbol of her father's betrayal to Sansa's dear mother. Still, it would be sweet to see her. Perhaps the capitol has changed her.

Robert is engrossed in repeating yet another retelling of his victory in Harrenhall. Jon follows Robb, allowing Robert to further immerse himself in his old war stories. They walk side by side in silence. Robb stops and looks to Jon.

"I am delighted that I will see our sister," Robb smile fades when he pauses. "But, I would like to spend as little time with Joffrey as I possibly can."

Jon bursts into a small fit of laughter and says, "When father passes, you will serve Joffrey."

"Please do not remind me," Robb says. "I would like to delude myself into believing that day will never come."

Both brothers erupt into laughter. When the laughter settles, Robb frowns. His eyes are solemn just as father's often are. "Father and the Emperor are like brothers. I had hoped that I would have that same bond with the emperor I would come to serve."

"One can hope Joffrey has grown over the years since his last visits," Jon says.

"Yes, but one can hope in one hand and shit in the other," Robb grins. "We shall see which one fills up first."

Jon and Robb both laugh. Perhaps, it is best he was born a bastard. He had often wished to be born in Robb's shoes, but to serve Joffrey Baratheon would be like the purest form of torture. Jon imagines he might marry a simple plebeian woman. Perhaps they shall have a son or daughter, and he might be able to live out his life without answering to the emperor or the senate. It would be easy, but Jon often times cannot help but long for more.

Jon's eyes raise as a carriage moves into their camp - Sansa. Robb and Father move towards the stopped carriage, both men standing side by side. Emperor Robert stands with both hands clasped in front of him, a drunken grin plastered on his face. A servant sets a set of stairs before the carriage and opens the door. The Empress is the first to exit the carriage. Cersei is dressed in white furs that compliments her gown of red and gold. Robert offers his hand to Cersei. She takes it his hand and dismissively avoids eye contact with her husband. Joffrey is the next to exit. He steps down the staircase, a smug smile upon his wormy lips. He steps next to his mother and holds his hand out expectantly.

Sansa emerges from the carriage in grey furs and a blue gown. Her eyes go to Joffrey first, and then to Robb and Father. She takes Father's hand instead of Joffrey's. Sansa jumps into her father's arm rather than moving down the makeshift staircase. Father sets Sansa down on her feet. She turns to Robb and the two embrace tightly.

Sansa, Robb, and Father are all engaged in small talk. Jon watches, noticing that Sansa has grown taller and also more beautiful within the last years. He's about to turn away until Sansa's eyes meet with his. He is taken aback by the smile upon her face as she parts from Robb and Father. She approaches him, stopping only at arms length. Their eyes meet and Jon dips his head in a small bow.

"It's good to see you, brother," her words are soft and sweet, a stark contrast from the indifference he's become accustomed to over the years.

"It is good to see you too, Sansa," Jon says.

Sansa takes Jon's arm in hers. "Walk with me."

Jon obliges. Her sudden interest in him stuns him. Perhaps she has grown in her years at the capitol. The disinterested stare she once gave him has been replaced by a soften glance from her eyes of Tully blue. She's stops when they are a good distance from the carriage.

"How is Winterfell?" she asks.

"It's more or less the same as you left it," Jon says. "Bran has adjusted since he's woken from his fall. Rickon's growing like a weed. Your mother misses you. Lady...sleeps in my room with Ghost mostly."

Sansa smiles. "And, Arya? You two were always so close…"

"She's the same," Jon says. "Stubborn as a bull."

"Some things may never change. Arya and I fought quite a bit, but I suppose distance makes the heart grow fonder," her words end in a soft quiver.

"The capitol displeases you," it's a statement not a question.

Jon's eyes meet hers. She lowers her eyes, keeping her eyes to the snow beneath her feet. She attempts a small, false smile as she looks back to Jon.

"The Capitol is...nice," she says. "It is just that I find myself missing home from time to time."

A sharp winter breeze cuts through them. Jon looks to Sansa once more. Her chin is raised high, and she keeps her features even when she speaks, "I have had much time to think of how awful I was to you, Jon."

"You were never awful…"

"Sansa!" Joffrey's piercing screech cuts through Jon's ears like knives.

"I was very awful, Jon," her eyes hold his gaze as she pauses. "It is good to see you, Jon. Excuse me, I must return to my betrothed."

"Of course," Jon dips his head into a small bow.

Jon sees Joffrey waiting next to Cersei. Cersei's arms are crossed in disapproval, and Joffrey's face expresses his own disapproval of Sansa's actions. She is unhappy. It's so evident in the way Sansa walks and speaks. It's written all over her face that she wants out of her betrothal. Jon's eyes meet with Joffrey. The boy's lips turn downward into a nasty scowl. His eyes narrow to Jon before he turns away, taking Sansa's arm in his with a rough tug.

There must be a way to end her betrothal. Surely, Father should have some say in the matter. Jon clenches his fist together. He cannot stay silent and live with the guilt of his own silence. He must say something to Father before Sansa makes leave to the capitol. If Sansa is being mistreated, Father and Robb will not let her leave back to King's Landing. Jon looks to Robb. He'll speak to his brother first, and then, he will speak to father.