Title: A Distant Memory

Pairing/s: canon pairings.

Rating: mature for safety. It is a Spartacus fic.

Spoilers: Yes. Although the fic ends up establishing its own canon (the fic was plotted and drafted after watching episode 10 and before the finale aired), it runs closely along the show's first season storyline.

Disclaimer: not mine. (neither are the quotes taken from episodes for use on this fic: because the writers are made of awesomesauce, as everything in this show)

Author's notes: plotted and written before watching "Old Wounds" (episode 11) thus using the first ten episodes as canon. The story jumps a little back and forth in time.

OOOOO

I. "A beast never to be leashed"

OO

"I can control her!"

("Whore")

OO

Ilithyia was a wild beast under the façade of a delicate patrician, layer worn with skilful deceit. But Lucretia had seen the animal beneath, the one relishing flesh and blood, and had managed to set a collar around her neck.

At least for a moment.

You cannot leash the wild and pretend to tame it unscathed. Lucretia had learnt that lesson far too late. No. She could not control her.

Lucretia had always borne an outstanding ability to place judgement on people, hardly ever failing, that being one of Quintus' most appreciated virtues about her. He had married a true judge on human nature, he liked to say, pride colouring his voice. And he had been right indeed, very few times had she been wrong on someone.

Ilithyia had been, she realized, one of those rare mistakes. And a fatal one, indeed. But on the brink of death, beaten animals could still deliver fatal blows.

Weakened by the wound, Lucretia left the pain on the back of her mind and clutched the hidden note in her hand as she waited for the slave to come, focusing all her will on having those words delivered to their rightful owner.

Legatus Claudius Glaber.

OOO

"You taunt an injured snake, one that may yet turn and strike."

("Party Favours")

OO

Wine still in hand, Ilithyia watched as the guards took the Thracian away, and two slave girls and the bewildered trainer silently carried the corpse of the other out from their sight. Other slaves cleaned the blood. Excusing herself, she left her friends' marvelled chatter and walked towards a more silent area of the atrium.

There was a satisfied smile curving her lips, but still Ilithyia was not content. How deep can you wound an animal before it meets its death?, she wondered. Seeing him suffer while his friend plummeted lifeless on the floor had been a gift she could not even dream of the week before as she stood before Licinia's dead body. Yet the sight of Spartacus was living remainder of memories she wanted buried deep. The death of the slave was primal in such aim.

But the Thracian seemed to bear the pain with endless endurance, refusing to die each and every time he was invited to dwell in the Underwold, where he belonged, burning in Tartarus for all eternity, under Tisiphone's lashing whip.

Yet as much as she desired to, Ilithyia could not kill him, only hope for death to meet the slave in the arena if not inside the ludus, as she had seen impossible to happen, much to the cost of her own gladiator's life. The look of the beaten and castrated savage still sent shivers to her spine, his stubborn silence until he drew his last breath up on that cross at first confusing, then irksome.

The Gaul, in his regret, had proven his honour towards Spartacus, not to her. Segovax sought his death as the means for justice in return of the offense committed against a 'brother', and such could only be attained if he spoke not of the tongue that commanded him to kill the champion. It also gave him the only freedom he would get now, choosing when to die, aware that no slave stood over a Roman, knowing that exposing her would have led him nowhere but the mines. Ilithyia held her title as daughter of a senator and wife of a legatus as powerful influence, and she had made sure the slave knew of that too when she commanded him to kill the Thracian.

Danger loomed around her. None but Numerius could suspect of her hand in the night's events, but Licinia's death was not a thing to be erased from mind, especially not from that of the lanista and Lucretia. The way she had manoeuvred her… Ilithyia was disgusted at herself for having been so weak in mind when taunting Lucretia with her gladiator. There was still no tempest, and all she had been asked to do was to gain favour for them, and have Gaius grant patronage to the House of Batiatus. Still, securing this loose end was to be—

"You seem lost in thought."

Dragged from her mind to the villa, Ilithyia turned her head surprised, meeting Solonius' annoying perfect smile, which she promptly returned, faking the same kindness, swift mind seeing opportunity in the shape of the lanista. "My good Solonius, you flatter me with your presence."

The man slightly bowed his head in acknowledgement. "It is a shame that yours is not guarded with your husband by your side."

Gaius, the one man she could still not confront, fearing her lips would part under the unbearable weigh of the shame she had brought on their names. Keeping those thoughts on the darkest corners of her mind, Ilithyia dressed her outside façade with a smile and returned kind words. "Shame it is, indeed," she agreed. Then, she pulled a calculated serious frown. "But it pales in comparison with the somberness laid upon your name under this very roof," she added, casually looking towards Batiatus while she sipped from her wine, hiding satisfaction while seeing Solonius' reaction to her remark. The comment had stung, quite as planned. The lanista may own a guileful mind married to a tongue of gold, but a very readable face.

"Quick rising fortunes often blind the bearer of the hands amassing them," commented the man.

Seed planted, Ilithyia proceeded to poison the root. "Even more when falling into hands lacking a proper gens." Batiatus' rival eyed her, probably in suspicion, she mused.

And indeed, suspicious he was. But Solonius had to admit, the young patrician had thrown a good bait. So he took it. Yet without biting. "Your friendship with the wife of Batiatus is well known outside these walls," he said throwing more implied meanings than direct words.

"A mere distraction over my husband's endless absence," she casually replied. "When he finally arrives, Capua will be but a distant memory in my mind."

"Your presence will be missed, if I may be so bold to add," he added politely, and turned to leave, seeing he would get nothing from the impertinent woman but offenses on his lower station, oblivious to the nerves taking hold of her.

Unbeknownst to him, it was Ilithyia who sought favour. "Magistrate Calavius..." a sideways eye and she breathed, owner again of his full attention. "He owes gratitude to Batiatus."

Solonius nodded curtly. "Forced by the love he has for his son Numerius, ignited by youthful passion with the games and the Champion of Capua."

"The young man thrives for blood," she agreed. And for all the pleasures his manhood can reach, she mentally added to herself. "But it will soon pass." She made a pause, patiently waiting for the lanista to look at her so he could see the gentle smile on her face. "When his eyesight is directed towards a more righteous path, the blood thirst will be supplanted by the art, the knowledge and the power. I am sure that when Solonius' house regains its stolen glory, young Numerius will look towards this ludus no more. Spartacus is nothing but a fleeting light, soon to fade away," she added not hiding her disgust, using her well-known hostility towards the Thracian in her favour. "Then Calavius will lead his son to where he really wants him to be. Under a proper roof." A pause. "Of course," she remarked, "I could...quicken the inevitable."

Solonius looked inside that woman, but he found a wall. Her face was unreadable, leaving him only speculation about her true motives. If he wanted to know, he would have to ask. The daughter of Senator Albinius was revealing herself cunning and sly like few. He just hoped it was not a serpent ready to bite what lay beneath the smile. "And what would that..."

Ilithyia saved him the shame of asking a woman. Patrician or not. Daughter of a senator or not, she was a woman. And she wanted his favour. She turned her eyes to a group gathered to their left, leading Solonius to do the same.

The lanista found only slaves, and turned eyes towards Ilithyia in mild confusion. Yet the woman was indeed looking at them. At one particular slave. Solonius froze.

"The bearded slave. I saw you having words with him." Ilithyia turned her eyes back to Solonius, who remained still and silent, yet failing to conceal the clenched teeth to her alert eyes. With cold calm, she suppressed a smirk and used her casual tone to ask a simple question. "Is he a man of trust?"

Solonius pondered. But Ilithyia's mention of Calavius ringed strongly in his mind. "He is," he finally said. "When filled with enough coin."

Ilithyia nodded. "Gratitude."

"To be returned, I hope," he said hazarding the favour in return.

Ilithyia leaned discreetly and let her mouth come close to his ear with a reassuring whisper. "Have the slave meet me outside, and you will have words with Calavius before this very night ends. And witnessed by Batiatus himself."

If you plant a poisoned seed, eventually the whole garden will die.

OOO

Ashur walked towards the woman waiting outside, troubled by his own acts. He had been sailing dangerous waters lately, and the thought of finding a way out of Capua had began to fill his mind with growing urgency. He knew the Roman who had summoned him was a powerful Roman, daughter of a Senator and wife to Legatus Glaber. Perhaps she could be his way to safety, or his path to damnation. Either way, he felt conveyed to go. A rat did not die until it swallowed the poisoned food.

The woman seemed absent, and he coughed to make himself noticed. "You called for me."

Ashur eyed her sideways. Her mind seemed absent, sight somewhere beyond Capua's limits. But soon he was proved wrong. It was not reflection, nor meandering thoughts. It was focus, as her words quickly revealed. "You seem to be a very valuable hand to your dominus."

"I do not deserve such kind words," he replied.

"Are they not true?," she casually asked, looking directly to him.

Startled by such raw attitude, one he had never seen before on a woman of her station, not even Domina, Ashur lost his temperance for a moment and looked into those eyes. There was fire burning behind them. "Dominus trusts me. He provides for me," he added trying to sound confident in his words.

"And yet you tend to other hands to fill your purse."

The Syrian swallowed hard and remained silent. His face grew pale and he silently thanked the absence of daylight threatening to expose his shame and fear. The moon, however, revealed a smile on the woman's face when she looked to the heavens.

"Worry not. I am not to be the one unveiling your secrets," she said, guiding her eyes back to the slave. "Do you know who my husband is?"

Ashur nodded bowing his head, wishing not to raise it again.

"He could use a helping hand in which to trust."

Finally the food was laid in front of the rat. Whether it was poisoned or not, only time would tell.

"Your skills fall short in Capua. They deserve a grander arena." An intended pause. "They deserve to serve Rome, not a simple lanista."

The rat took the food in its hands. "What would you like this humble slave to do..." And ate it. "...Domina."

Ilithyia smirked to herself and smiled to the slave.

"I want to know everything about Crixus."

OOOOO