A/N: I own nothing.
Maximus Must Die
Chapter One
I feel like I'm the only one standing in a crowd full of people.
The thoughts burnt a hole in his heart and he felt like the pain that welled up inside him was about to burst out after devouring every fibre of his being like a ravenous cancer. He sank into the floor, with nothing in his unhinged mind but the fear he felt whenever he looked at his sister or even his father. He had not murdered him - how could he? It was an act of passion, he was a passionate person and whenever he felt strongly about something he acted from it, hence the smothering of his beloved father.
It was true - he loved his father deeply and wanted nothing more than to be loved, he would have even settled for a firm, warm kiss on the cheek. He took the reef off his head and threw it to one side - why should he wear it? In truth he was not emperor, for an emperor is respected and adored whereas he was hated and laughed at. It ate away at his soul - hated and laughed at, he was no more than a crippled beggar scrambling the streets in search of a crumb of bread.
So yes, he was passionate and yet he was compassionate, he would do anything to make his people happy - that was what the senate did not understand. Oh how he loved them all, from every screaming, purple-faced infant to the bent-over, ragged old toothless man - every last one had a place in their heart. He made a place for them all in his heart, but it seemed that no living organism could clear a space in their tar black and empty hearts for he; a lone man.
Isolation was his and loneliness consumed every last inch of him like the shadow of the night consumed the bright sun's domain, shadow had commandeered his body and turned every last part of him dark, right down to his once vibrant eyes.
But he was not a bad person, he tried his best to outline this. In his own eyes he had done nothing wrong. He took great care of his family - his sister was the light in his obscurity and gloom and he would fulfil her every request and need. He took great care of his nephew when his father died, reading to him, helping him write, telling him stories - basically doing every paternal duty he could think of, which was surprising as they were never shown to him, they just came naturally. He knew he would be a good father, one day. His father - he had loved his father so much it hurt and it ached to look at him, especially when his father ignored his every breath and movement. He felt invisible in his father's presence, but that never shattered the illusion that one day his father would turn to him and embrace him tightly - that was his dream and he would be damned if it would fail, for even in death he could receive that which is rightfully his. He felt as though the citizens were his family - his children. These people he prized above all others and Maximus, his brother. If Maximus had only taken his hand they would have been the best of friends, but he turned his back on him and the new emperor did what he had to in order to show the people there would be no exceptions in treachery. He expected Maximus to die along with his family and would therefore be reunited with them in the afterlife, but Maximus had to survive and thus, he felt the deep pain of loosing his family, his life in theory. Maximus afflicted everything upon himself, yet somehow Commodus was the villain in all of this and he was sure it had driven his sister to hating him.
At the end of the day all he wanted was love; love from his people, love from his sister, love from a woman, love from his father and love from Maximus, but it was not to be so, for now he had to perform the acts of Caesar - Maximus had to be destroyed.
He did not want to deal with the guilt of killing him again, but he was so amazingly vexed that he would kill him with his own hand over and over again until the sun burst into tiny shards killing off the whole wretched race! That is what he would have to do if this plan failed - he would have to stain his own hands with the blood of the one his father always preferred over his own flesh. However, it would not come to that, he would have Maximus' head on a plate and it would happen tomorrow, as he faces the greatest athlete of them all - Tigris of Gall.
How strange it was that this common Spaniard went from being a farmer to a general, then a slave and not at last a gladiator, a gladiator that defied an emperor. He would watch as the life was drained out of his 'friend' and hopefully the death would be quick. Whilst the people in the crowds yelled out for their hero they seemed to forget that Maximus had brutally killed all of the gladiators he was against. He should have killed him this afternoon, it would have been so easy! But he did what the crowd requested.
But what if Maximus does not die tomorrow?
There it was, the doubtful little shrill voice in the back of his head telling him what a failure he and his plans were and shaking his confidence. But Maximus would die tomorrow: it has been arranged. There is no fear that Maximus will survive. How could he? Tigris was undefeated and the crowd idolised him above this newcomer.
When the helmet was removed, revealing Maximus, he nearly died. His head pushed different messages into the frame and he could swear he was on the verge of fainting. Although she denied it, he knew Lucilla felt love arise again for him, but he convinced himself he needn't worry, soon he would put an end to that infatuation, with the death of her hero.
Maximus will die tomorrow and I shall watch and the people will be pleased.
Maximus will die tomorrow.
But what if he doesn't?