Morituri te Salutant by Ras Elased (NC17)

[melodysparks.livejournal.com]

Show: SGA

Rec Category: Alternate Universe
Characters: John Sheppard Rodney McKay Elizabeth Radek Ronan
Pairings: John Sheppard/OMC John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Categories: HET Slash
Warnings: Bondage, slavery, non-SGA character death, mention of off screen SGA recurring character death, not-so-cuddly-animal death, lots of John-whumpage. Maybe some weird variation of Stockholm Syndrome thrown in for good measure
Author on LJ: ras_fic
Author's Website: Ras Elased's Slashfic
Link: Morituri te Salutant

Why This Must Be Read: Morituri te Salutant translated to mean “Those of us about to die salute you” the phrase used by gladiators to address the emperor before the beginning of a gladiatorial match. One of my all-time favourite movies is Gladiator. I also have a love of history and to combine my favourite TV show with one of my favourite subjects… well how could I not love it. The Summary says “John had been born a slave under Emperor Vespasian, and had spent most of his life building the Amphitheatrum Flavium the Emporer had commissioned. It seemed ironic that now he was held prisoner inside the walls he’d helped construct, forced to fight for the amusement of the Roman citizens he hated so much.”
John is a gladiator in Ancient Rome, and Rodney is a Roman Senator who falls in love with him after he sees him fight in the Colosseum.




He knew other gladiators who enjoyed the company of their occasional guests, if the sounds from their cells were any indication, but after years of servitude under a Roman whip, shuffled from master to master, John’s hatred for the Romans was so strong he could taste it in his mouth every time he looked at them. They came to him with stars in their eyes, delighted for a night with a gladiator, but their excitement quickly turned to fear as they stumbled backwards from the blackness of his gaze. He was trained to kill, he had killed men for no other reason than that the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd demanded it, that his own survival demanded it. His visitors saw that in his eyes when they looked at him. They rarely returned for a second night.

That was, however, until his latest visitor.

The first night the man had come to him, dressed in the purple-trimmed robes of a Senator, it had gone much like all of John’s other encounters. The man hadn’t even entered his cell, but he’d still looked stricken by the level of fury he’d seen in John’s face, and had left without saying a single word. John had forgotten him before he was even out of sight, but the next night had taken him completely by surprise. The man came back.

Since then, the Senator had come to see him every night.

And now, John’s nights were filled with the nonstop chatter of one-sided discussions. His refusal to speak had clearly frustrated the man, if his red-faced blustering was any indication, but John had never spoken since he first arrived at the Colosseum over a year ago. Eventually, the training masters had realized they couldn’t beat words out of him, and John wasn’t going to give up that small victory because of one whiny Senator.