Author's note: I toyed with making this a full-on uber fic and changing everyone's names completely, but I realized it wasn't necessary. As a result, I've only changed certain characters' names or only parts of their names. There are no OCs—everyone who appears in this fic has appeared on Glee. It should be clear from the context who is who, but just in case, the following characters are making their debut or are mentioned in this first chapter: Silvanus = Sue Sylvester | Hostus Salonius Ramirus = Sandy Ryerson | Hadrian = Hank Saunders | Quinn = Quinn Fabray | Emperor Gaius Julius Sejanus = Jesse St. James | King Ruaidhri = Russell Fabray

Also, I've taken a page out of Xena: Warrior Princess's book in that this isn't historically accurate. It's close enough, but I've taken liberties where needed. I just thought I would give you a heads up about that in case you're a stickler for that sort of thing.

And last but not least, thanks to counterpunches for giving me the title to the fic, and, in the process, inspiring the rest of the story that I had yet to figure out completely. :)

So Falls the World - Chapter 1

The salty air of the Mediterranean fills Lanista Silvanus's lungs as she walks though the streets of Massilia. Her lips curve up into a smug smile at the thought of what might await her in the market today. Hostus Salonius Ramirus's latest shipment of slaves arrived just this morning—spoils of war from Emperor Sejanus's conquest in Gaul—and he apparently has something very special for her.

She arrives at the forum, seeing that the public slave auction is in full swing. Hundreds of men stand on a revolving platform, bare save for their shackles and the placards hanging around their necks. She doesn't even need to read them to know what they say. They are all prisoners of war, and unless they're severely injured, they are strong and capable men. Silvanus guesses most of them will be put to the task of hard, manual labor, as she doubts any of them have a formal education.

But they are not why she is there. These men hold no interest to her. What she is in need of is much less common and certainly will not be out on public display. Her blue eyes seek out the private shop belonging to Salonius. It's been awhile since her last visit, so it takes a moment to find it, but when she does, she makes a beeline toward it—grateful to leave the chaos of the forum.

A pair of young men are there to greet her when she arrives. They lead her into the main room, where a table is laid out with a spread of fruit, cheese, and wine, along with a few couches.

"Salonius will be with you shortly," one of the men—Hadrian, she thinks his name is—informs her. "He's busy preparing the slave for you in one of the back rooms. In the meantime, help yourself to anything you wish."

She peruses the spread, selects a few grapes, and pops them in her mouth. Despite her general dislike of having to haggle with slave traders, she has to admit that she at least enjoys the perks that come with doing business with Salonius.

Now, if only he didn't make her wait so long.

"Silvanus!" a short, balding middle-aged man with beady eyes greets her with a smile as he emerges from one of the back rooms.

"Salonius," she replies, nodding her head slightly in his direction.

"It's wonderful to see you. How was your trip from Genua?"

"It was pleasant enough. I'll be on my way back as soon as this sale is done—assuming you actually have something I want," she says, preferring to get right to business. She's already wasted enough time waiting for him, so she would rather avoid wasting even more time with pointless small talk. "What do you have for me today?"

His eyes light up, and he hands her a placard as he begins to describe the prize from the latest batch of prisoners of war. "Exactly the kind of girl you're looking for. A real warrior princess."

She looks at him incredulously, sure that it's just a tactic to drive up the selling price.

"Her father is—or should I say was—King Ruaidhri. And let me tell you—this girl can fight. It took nearly twenty centurions to bring her down."

Now that's certainly intriguing—assuming he's telling the truth. "How did she escape crucifixion?" she asks, knowing full well what happened to the rest of the Ruaidhri clan.

"I suppose Sejanus was feeling generous. And looking to make a profit."

"That doesn't surprise me," she says, finally looking down at the placard in her hands.

She sees that the slave's name is Quinn, originating from the Gallic tribe of Arverni, is 16 years of age, is skilled with a short sword, and is supposedly in good health. There is nothing about her level of intelligence, but there is a mention of a bad temper.

"Can she at least speak Latin?" she asks, hoping that perhaps her higher station in her homeland afforded her some level of education. The language barrier is bad enough with some of her other slaves, but she knows enough Gaulish to get by if needed.

"She understands it," he affirms. "If she speaks it, I wouldn't know. She's hardly said a word since her capture. Although, she has other ways of showing her displeasure."

"Show her to me," she says, knowing that placards contain the barest of information and are not always accurate. Of course, Salonius knows better than to outright lie to her, but at the end of the day, he's still a slave trader, and therefore, not to be completely trusted. She has to see with her own eyes if what he claims is true.

"Right this way." Salonius leads her to the back room of his shop—where all of his private sales take place—and pulls aside the curtain, revealing the Gaul. Her skin is fair, and her long, blond hair has been braided and pulled back from her face. But the thing that immediately captures Silvanus's attention is the slave's eyes—deep hazel filled with an intense fire—and the glare directed at her. This girl obviously detests her, and Silvanus is reminded of the Amazons she has back at her ludus in Genua.

She smirks, excited for the possible challenge of getting this girl to submit to her. But only if everything checks out.

Silvanus begins to walk in a slow circle around the girl, appraising her carefully.

As is customary during all slave sales, the Gaul is completely naked—save for the shackles that are fastened tightly to her wrists and ankles, both of which are chained to the floor so as to prevent the girl's escape. Her left foot is covered in chalk, indicating her status as a fresh slave.

There's a barely-healed six-inch gash on her left thigh, faint bruises on both sides of her ribcage, and several lashes on her back from a whip, but otherwise she appears to be in good health. Her muscles are strong and developed, and her proud stance indicates that of a warrior.

"Open your mouth," she orders as she stands in front of the slave again.

The girl only glares at her.

Silvanus has little patience for this kind of disobedience, and so she tightly grips the girl's chin—pressing her thumb painfully into the indentation below her lower lip. She can see a flash of pain in hazel eyes and feels a rush of triumph. "Open your mouth," she repeats.

This time the Gaul obeys, but Silvanus does not relinquish her hold.

She inspects her mouth, making sure there is nothing that appears amiss, before nodding her head. "You can close it," she says, brusquely releasing the slave's face. The girl snaps her mouth shut, practically snarling at Silvanus. She looks down at her amusedly, not at all intimidated by this Gaul. "You seem healthy enough, but let's see if you can actually fight."

That gets a reaction. The slave tenses and shouts something in Gaulish. Silvanus's grasp on the language is rusty, but she's fairly certain the girl just said that she'd gladly like to see her filthy Roman body at the end of her sword.

Her amused smile grows. If she does end up buying this girl, she's going to enjoy punishing her for her insolence.

"Would you like Hadrian to demonstrate?" Salonius asks, oblivious to the insult just hurled at her.

"No, I'll do it myself," Silvanus says, wanting to put this slave in her place.

The slave trader wordlessly hands her a pair of wooden swords. Despite being for sparring purposes only, in Silvanus's hands, they are still deadly weapons.

Salonius then releases the chains connected to the slave's wrists but leaves her ankles securely fastened—unwilling to risk her trying to run off. This clearly displeases the Gaul, but if this girl is truly a warrior princess, Silvanus has no doubt that she'll still be able to show what she can do—shackles or no.

Once Salonius is out of range, Silvanus tosses one of the wooden swords towards the girl, who easily catches its handle with her right hand. The Gaul has to modify her stance due to her limited mobility, but Silvanus recognizes it as one that is strong.

She starts with a quick series of thrusts with her sword, all of which the slave easily parries. Her jaw is set, and her hazel eyes are filled with fiery determination. Silvanus smiles internally before intensifying her assault, sweeping her arm down and causing the Gaul to lift her arm up to block each attack.

Silvanus begins to mix up her attacks—alternating between thrusts and sweeping arcs—as she moves around the Gaul. Her defense is tight, and Silvanus can see how the girl tracks her every move with her eyes and counters without fail with her sword. But she's at a disadvantage since she is unable to move her feet, and therefore unable to launch any real sort of offensive attack.

Even so, Silvanus can see what this girl is capable of, and she's glad that she is chained to the floor, because while she has no doubt that she would ultimately be victorious in a fair fight against the Gaul, it would be challenging to say the least.

And right now, she has bigger fish to fry.

Taking advantage of being the one on the offensive and the fact that her opponent is severely limited in her mobility, Silvanus decides to up the ante and quickly flicks her wrist, managing to catch the slave's hand with the flat of her sword's blade. The girl's grip slackens slightly, and Silvanus moves quickly, hitting a point in her opponent's sword that she knows will send an uncomfortable vibration up into her hand—further weakening her hold on the weapon—before slicing down on the Gaul's wrist.

The girl releases a pained hiss as the weapon clatters to the ground. She immediately goes to reach for it, but Silvanus juts the blunt tip of her sword into the girl's chest—hard—forcing her back and knocking the wind out of her. She staggers slightly, but manages to stay upright.

"Not bad," she murmurs, stepping closer to the Gaul, who is still gasping for breath through clenched teeth, her expression of hatred never wavering. "But you're still going to need a lot of work," she adds with a self-satisfied smirk. With a swiftness the girl can't anticipate, Silvanus moves behind her and smashes the hilt of her weapon against the back of her skull—rendering her unconscious and causing her to crumple to the ground at Silvanus's feet in a heap.

"How much?" she asks, turning to look at Salonius.

"30,000 dinarii," he says without hesitation.

Silvanus laughs. "You've got to be kidding. At most she's worth 15,000."

"You're not exactly in a position to bargain, you know," he replies, his tone still pleasant. "You're the only one who desires her services. I can easily sell her to a brothel, you know."

"Like any one of those owners would be able to handle her," she derides. "The only reason I was able to take her down so easily is because I'm descended from Spartans."

He falters, obviously knowing that she's right about that fact. "Fine. 25,000."

"20,000 dinarii," she shoots back. "And that's my final offer."

"Sold."

She smirks internally. The girl is easily worth 40,000 dinarii. No doubt she'll pay for herself in less than a month in the arena.

Silvanus heads back into the main room with Salonius on her heels. She takes out pieces of silver from her pouch and begins to instruct him as she places the money before him on a small desk. "My ship back to Genua leaves in two candlemarks. I expect her to be ready to go by then."

"Of course. Hadrian will prepare her and bring her to you."

"Good," she says, counting out the remaining amount owed before looking back up at the man. "Pleasure doing business with you."

And with that, she turns on her heels—knowing she is that much closer to achieving glory and infamy in the Colosseum.

Her gladiatrices will be the greatest thing the Games have ever seen, and with any luck, this Gaul will be the one leading the charge.