Author's Note: This is a fanfiction based on several dreams I have had over the course of a few years, after Gladiator was released. I took the story and sort of ran with it. This will be rated T most of the time, occasionally traipsing into M territory. This is completely AU. The plot is as follows: Laelia is the bastard daughter of Marcus Aurelius. The youngest child, sister to Commodus and Lucilla. This story picks up at the death of Caesar and shortly after Maximus is captured and taken to Zuccabar. This is told in 3rd person, mainly from Laelia's POV, save for the first couple of chapters, where an outside POV is necessary at times. If anyone notices any inconsistencies in spelling, grammar or basic story names or Roman history, please do message me. As current, I am researching the title which Laelia would have held. Lucilla was eventually called Augusta, but that title was redacted. Even as a recognized bastard, she would not simply be called Laelia. For now, I am sticking with "Lady" until I can investigate further. Please enjoy and do leave a review.

Chapter the First: "Brother, Lover, Fighter"

She had arrived too late. She had pressed the horse and those of her two guards nearly to exhaustion; leaving the moment she heard that Quintus had sent the Praetorians to kill Maximus and his family. She cursed herself for spending even one day in mourning for her father. Had she come out of her bed that first day, she'd known sooner and would have made it here in time. Father always said the innocent reaped what the selfish sowed. She slipped from her saddle as she brought the horse to a sudden halt, pausing only momentarily to gather her gown up in her hands before running towards the farm.

She ran only a few steps before defeat hit her every sense. Just ahead, were two newly dug graves. She could vaguely hear her guards yelling at her in the background as they arrived and dismounted. But there was a mounting roar in her ears, a rush of noise, her body's flight mechanism kicking in and trying to block out the pain. She was overwhelmed though, by the screaming sadness tugging at her heart. Her sinuses burned and her fingers and arms tingled. She could still smell the fire in the air, see smoke rising forlornly from the charred fields that Maximus had once plowed. She wished she could picture him there now, walking through the wheat, his hand proudly outstretched, touching nature's bounty.

Her bounty would be despair and guilt, nothing more. Vaguely, as she surveyed the destruction, she wondered why they hadn't torched the little farmhouse, oblivious to the guards behind her.

The horse she'd ridden so hard in her desperation had fallen, its heart giving out. The poor beast kicked in the dirt, in its death throes. Calinius, the younger guard, a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and twinkling blue eyes, swore. Although he and his partner, Grandrin had guarded Laelia since she was a child, they'd not seen her do something so foolish. Drawing his blade, he signaled for Grandrin to hold the horse's neck down. The older man complied, stroking the poor beast's neck and trying to calm it a bit. Calinius drew the blade deftly across the horse's throat, severing it. Hot blood spilled out and the horse moved no more. Standing, he wiped the blade on a cloth and placed it back into the scabbard. He couldn't help but observe that as the horse's misery had ended, his charge's misery was surely just beginning.

The two guards stood side by side at the top of a little hill, just before the farm. Laelia was stumbling towards the graves, her entire body hunched in sadness. Grandrin was older, nearing his sixties, but he too had served Marcus his entire life, watching over first Lucilla and then Laelia. Lucilla had discharged him from her service when she came of age; she preferred to choose her own guards. Guards who were easy to manipulate and bully. Grandrin and Calinius were no such men. They served Laelia proudly, even though she was a bastard. They thought the girl brave and kind, despite the vipers' nest she'd grown up in.

Calinius swore again. "I told her we'd be too late. Commodus has gone mad and Quintus too for following him. But I've sworn my life to protecting Lady Laelia. You as well. Unfortunately that doesn't include questioning her brother the Emperor or his puppets. Dammit, though. I feel like hell for this, Grandrin. Was there nothing we could have done?"

The older man shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think so. Had we protested against Quintus he'd have killed us as well and then there would be no one left to protect our lady. Eventually, someone would find out where her loyalties lie and her fate would be a darker one than it is now. "

"Dark it is, indeed." Calinius replied, sighing heavily.

Laelia sat in front of the two graves, her feet curled under her legs. She twirled the dried flowers left there, surprised that they hadn't blown away. Tucking them protectively into her purse, she ran her fingers over the gravely dirt in front of the graves, sifting it through shaking fingers.

Laelia was only a few years younger than Lucilla. Marcus Aurelius' only bastard and the only child not to be born pale and dark haired. She was a golden child, skin tanned even when she was not in the sun, hair long and golden as if Apollo himself had weaved it. She took after her mother, she'd been told. Her eyes, though, were her father's, no one could doubt that. Marcus had distinct, green blue eyes, with a small orangish dot in the left one. Laelia's were exactly the same, from birth. She had been borne of the wife of an old and decrepit Senator, who'd died shortly before Laelia was born. Her mother had died birthing her. Marcus had procured a wet nurse and she'd been raised with the other children, her siblings as a recognized bastard of Caesar's.

From childhood, she'd doted on her family. Commodus was by far her favourite, she followed him everywhere and endeared to please him. Marcus rarely had time for her, but as he grew older, he made an effort with not only her but all three of his children. Lucilla, for whatever reason, had hated her from birth. Most said it was because she was a bastard. Lucilla valued her position and nobility more than anything else in the world. Laelia had tried in vain to please her sister, to elicit love from her, but had never been successful. As for Commodus, he was generally amused by his baby sister and would tolerate her, but was never overly affectionate. No, that love was reserved for his Lucilla. He was nearly obsessed with her and for a time she him, until Marcus had her married off. When her husband died, Commodus swore he'd take her as his own wife when he became Emperor. Although the thought of being Empress seemed to tempt Lucilla, she'd refused in the end.

Towards the end of Marcus' life he had begun to make amends for all the wrongs he felt he'd committed, including his children. Laelia adored him, making his death all the more traumatic when it came. Although she and Lucilla had never been close, the night Commodus killed their father; Lucilla had called her to her own tent for the night. She'd been in a fit of grief, but had told Laelia the truth, cradling the younger girl as they both sobbed. For a bittersweet, brief moment, they were the sisters Laelia had always wanted to be. They clung to each other that night, forged together in their despondency.

But morning came and with it, any fragment of love Lucilla had cultivated disappeared with the morning mists. She'd told Laelia to put this all past her, she was resolved not to do anything. When word came that Quintus had ordered Maximus' death as well as those of his wife and child, Lucilla did not budge. Surely she had loved Maximus for some time! He was the true father of Lucius, her only child. She would not risk her own neck for him, though, she told Laelia. Laelia, in turn, had raged at her in a rare moment of passion. She couldn't believe Lucilla would just allow Quintus to send the Praetorians to commit such atrocities and kill the father of her child. But then, Laelia reasoned Lucilla had left Maximus for her late husband shortly after she'd got with child and didn't want anyone to know Lucius was a bastard. It all made sense to her, as she lay in her own tent that day, sobbing her heart out. Lucilla had wed and bedded for power and would not stop until she was Augusta. Not even when Commodus had killed their father and Maximus.

Laelia had loved Maximus since she was young, 12 or 13. He was ten years her senior but she didn't care. He had dazzled her from the moment she met him. Her father's general and nearly adopted son, Maximus was familiar with the family. He was intelligent, kind, educated and the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. But Lucilla had been the one to catch his eye and they'd become involved for a little over a year, until Lucilla had made a marriage match for political reasons. When Laelia came of age, Maximus was still unmarried. She was unaware that in the year since Lucilla abandoned Maximus, he'd moved on. So she went to her father and pleaded with him to propose marriage between her and Maximus. She pled to Marcus a well-rehearsed speech; that Maximus was a fine match as General of the Roman armies and like a son to Marcus besides. She told him that any noble woman would make a good match with him, respectably. She reminded her father that she was a bastard and therefore not an important pawn for political marriages. Finally, she told her father that she loved Maximus. He'd been angry at first, jumping to the conclusion that Maximus had seduced his lovely young daughter. She quickly told him the truth, that Maximus was unaware of her affections. Grudgingly, Marcus had agreed, he was getting old and sentimental. Too, he wanted to see Laelia taken care of. So he'd approached the warrior, only to discover that Maximus was intending to marry a girl from his village as soon as he was released from Rome.

Marcus had delayed giving Laelia the answer, stalling until Maximus had departed for his home and waiting bride. Laelia had left for an extended stay in Capua with her Aunt Faustina, who was vacationing there; to hide her shame and devastation. She tried to distract herself with her young cousins and the weather, but she couldn't focus.

Upon her return to Rome some months later, Maximus was gone on campaign against a Germanic tribe, expanding Rome's empire. It was during that spring that Marcus Aurelius put family before politics. The army returned victorious. Bloodied, diminished, but with victory. A massive feast was thrown in honor of their victory a week later. When Maximus was presented to the Caesar, he had his wife with him, who had traveled to Rome from their village in anticipation of her husband's return. Marcus could do naught but watch his youngest child's heart break as she stood in the glow of a triumphant and happy Maximus, whose wife was heavy with child. Laelia was gracious and handled her hurt brilliantly. Maximus for his part was kind to the girl. So Marcus had rewarded Laelia with a rare promise: she need not marry. Over time he brokered two or three marriage proposals for show, but nothing ever came of them. Laelia was grateful, but lost. Over the next couple of years, when they crossed paths, Maximus was apologetic, but cold.

Laelia focused her attentions on helping the people of Rome and her studies. She sponsored efforts to clean Rome's streets, spent time with scientists and artists, visionaries. Anything she could do to improve the lot of the common person. She sought education, pushing herself to learn every language available to her, pestering her father's scholars and drinking knowledge in as if she were dying for thirst of it. She'd needed a distraction, some purpose.

Now, seven years later, she sat in front of the great man's ruin. His wife and child, murdered by order of her cruel brother. Laelia sat in silence, thinking for a long while. Calinius approached her, softly. "My Lady, night approaches. We should seek shelter."

She stood, smiling, dusting off her gown. These men had protected her since she was a girl and she viewed them as family. She knew their loyalty was implicit and no matter what, they'd follow her.

"No, I will spend the night here. I need to be alone. The village is small and the likelihood of bandits is slim. I want you to search the countryside for any sign of Maximus. It has been…three days, but there may be…something." Steeling herself against the thought of Maximus' body lying dead in the cold, frozen land, she continued. "By morning, if there is no sign of him, we return to Rome."

Normally, they would argue leaving her unguarded. In her state of despair and knowing the surrounding lands, they were comfortable that Laelia would be safe overnight. Grandrin left her a dagger and told her to stay inside the house with the door bolted. Taking the horses, they bade her farewell and went in search of a ghost.

Approaching the door, Laelia reached out with a shaking hand to open it. Touching the cold wood, she closed her eyes, remembering, for just a moment.

She was 17. Springtime in Rome was beautiful that year. Marcus' health was good and his spirits better. He'd arranged a series of chariot races before the gladiatorial games. Laelia had been allowed to attend, as she was considered a young woman now. She had been given a seat of honor beside her father's left. Lucilla was to his right. The day was warm; she could still feel the sunlight as she tilted her face up to the sky. The crowd thundered as the chariot procession entered the Coliseum. Each chariot stopped before the Caesar's box to pay homage and receive his blessing. Commodus was first, in a chariot of gold and white gilt, every inch of it polished so that it shone. His two horses were great white stallions, their manes braided and tied with golden bells. Commodus himself was every inch magnificent. He was wearing a white toga, overlaid with golden armor. As the Caesar's son, he wore a laurel wreath about his curly locks. As he pulled to a halt in front of them, Laelia exclaimed, "Oh but brother, you make a beautiful Apollo!" He had been delighted with her compliment and had started to ask for her favor to wear, until Lucilla leaned over the box and placed her hand on his arm. The lightest touch from Lucilla commanded their brother's obedience. And so Commodus had asked, with great ceremony, for his other sister's favor to wear around his arm. Lucilla had chosen a gown of blood red that day, and tied her matching ribbon about Commodus' sword arm. Laelia had sat back down, her face hot with embarrassment. Marcus had patted her hand in sympathy. Laelia stared blankly ahead as the rest of the chariots proceeded. The next to last was Maximus. She had forgotten that he was listed in today's race. His chariot was a burnished copper, carved with griffons. His horses-one white and one black, their manes loose and free in the light wind. Laelia couldn't tear her eyes from him, though. He was resplendent in a cream and navy toga, dark metal armor atop it. His helmet had a blue plume and his skin glowed like some precious light metal. Unable to help herself, Laelia had sprung up when Maximus had finished speaking with her father.

"Maximus, would you honor me by wearing my favor in the races today?" she had asked, surprised at how musical her voice had sounded. She could hear Lucilla's sharp intake of breath and her father's amused chuckle. But she never took her eyes from Maximus.

"My Lady Laelia, it would be my honor instead, to represent you in today's race," he had replied, his smile spreading sheer joy throughout her entire being. Laelia leaned over the railing and with steady hands, she wound her purple ribbon to his sword arm, tying the end and looking up at him to smile.

"Good luck, Maximus and may the gods speed you to victory." She made to lean back from the railing, but not before Maximus had caught her hand.

He drew it up to his mouth with both hands, brushing his lips lightly against it in a soft kiss she'd never forget. "I thank you, my lady. I hope to prove worthy of your favor."

He had taken the reins, clicking to his horses as the box clapped in appreciation of his prose. Laelia was beaming with delight as she'd sat back down; her father kissed her cheek and told her he was proud of how dignified she'd behaved and that she was a true noble lady. Even Lucilla's quiet, jealous rage would not quell Laelia's happiness that day. Maximus did indeed win the races, even against Commodus who good naturedly joked he should have gone with his first instinct and asked for Laelia's favor. At the banquet that evening, she'd been allowed to sit at Maximus' right, hanging on his every word and brilliant smile. He'd given her the ribbon back as he bade everyone goodbye. "May this bring you as much luck in life as it won me today, fair lady." Her heart had never been fuller.

In my telling of this fictional story, I will try to be as historically accurate as I can as far as events and customs go. This was a great, gilded age. If you have any suggestions or sources, please send them my way. Some changes I have made: Maximus' village was a two and half day journey, not in Spain. It doesn't make sense in the movie, either. He wouldn't have been able to race there like that. He would have had a chance to make it to save his wife and son if he'd had to travel that far. One man, even injured, versus a large party of Praetorians. I do not change the characters from the movie much as far as their temperament goes. Time spans changed a little bit. Lucius and Maximus' son are said to be nearly the same age in the movie. I find this to be slightly hard to believe. Maximus was revealed to be the real father of Lucius after the movie released, in a script for a sequel that never was. This is very believable. But I spaced Maximus' son's age a year out, to give him time to find a wife and get her with child. I do think Lucilla broke his heart. She looks out for herself and her son, first and foremost. As always, I do not own any material or characters from the motion picture Gladiator.