Rivers Of Blood

Gladiators

Sirius Black stood with his hands crossed in front of him, watching as the new emperor—a young boy with dark hair and pale skin, a small snake wrapped around his forearm—ascended the steps to the throne. Once he was sat in the golden chair, he looked about the room with cold, unfeeling eyes.

"My first act as Emperor," Tom Riddle said, "Is to send everyone under the age of twenty in the Noble House of Black and the Gallant House of Potter into the fighting pits."

The gathered nobles all collectively gasped, their head swiveling toward Sirius and his family. They didn't look at the Potters, who were clutching their son and sniffling. Instead, their eyes bore into Sirius and his little brother.

At eighteen, Sirius knew that he was too young to die. He knew that he had too much to live for, too much to accomplish. He hadn't yet completed his training with his Maester, and he hadn't been able to repair the relationship with his parents. And yet, that didn't seem to matter, because as his parents looked at him, he saw it in their eyes. There was no remorse there, no guilt, no worry. They didn't care what happened to their oldest son. But, as they looked at Regulus, he saw the love there. The fear. He saw that his little brother was everything to them, and he was being ripped away. And at that moment, Sirius knew that he had lost his parent's love forever. And he also realized that he didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about. Like surviving.

And protecting.

Because while he might still love his parents, while he might wish that they still loved him, there was one person who he would die for. His little brother, Regulus, was standing frozen. His blueish-green eyes were wide with shock as they stared at the emperor. Sirius felt something go through him at the fear he saw in his brother's eyes.

Then, Regulus smoothed his face into one of calm, his eyes hardening. Sirius sometimes wished that he could hide his emotions as well as his little brother, but he knew that his emotions were always written all over his face. There was no hiding it when he thought something was wrong, and this, he most definitely thought was wrong. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, rubbing his palms on his pants as he stopped in front of the emperor. Tom Riddle's eyes were amused when he looked down upon him. It was as if he thought all of this was just a game. Perhaps to him, it was. But to Sirius, it was his life. It was his little brother's life.

And so, not for the first time, Sirius spoke out against the injustice.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Sirius said, voice wobbling only just. "Please spare my brother from this fate. I will fight twice as hard, and bring you twice as much enjoyment, if only you will allow him to remain here."

The Emperor's eyes sparked. "No."

Sirius's mouth dropped open. No? What else was he supposed to do? Already he was practically begging for the life of his brother. There was not much else he could offer the emperor.

"I have made my decision." The Emperor waved a hand as if he were bored. "Leave. Take them away!"

The guards came forward and grabbed Sirius's wrists. They pulled his arms behind him painfully, locking the iron shackles onto him. Sirius cast one last look about the room before he was dragged into the hallway, through the castle corridors, and out into the streets of the city. He didn't try to ask questions as he was shoved and pulled through the streets, instead opting to say hello to the people, to nod, to observe. He was led to the bowels of the biggest arena in the empire, known as the Hog's Wart. It was named after their signature fight, letting loose warthogs into the arena with tusks large enough to skewer a man. Which they did. Sirius had watched that fight years ago with his family, when they still spoke to him. Now, he was less amused than he had been, and even back then he had hated watching the men kill each other and the pigs.