Full summary:

"So, Dean." The king clears his throat, looking at the barbarian who's eating a chicken's leg and scratching his belly with a contented face. "To end this conflict, I am offering you one of my daughters in marriage, so we can become allies and good friends. Choose whichever you want." The king gestures to his three daughters, all maidens of rare beauty.

Dean belches loudly and pats his belly, causing loud laughter among his warriors. He takes a good look at the princesses, shifting his gaze from one to the other.

"I appreciate your offer, King Uldred, and I will accept it. Though I don't want any of your daughters." Dean grins widely.

The king frowns. "I don't understand."

"I want him." Dean points at the young prince with his gnawed chicken's leg. "I'll have Castiel."

Beta'd by Zana Zira. Thank you, darling!

Please leave reviews. I really need your support as this is gonna be a long and difficult story to write.

Important: To make things clear. Some of you may not understand what's happening in this chapter. Let me explain: this and upcoming 4 chapters are set in ancient Rome. Why? Because it is strongly connected to Dean's and Castiel's future storylines. Quintus Atticus is Dean and Cassius Valerius Martialis is Castiel but in their past lives.

Part I - Ave, Cæsar, morituri te salutant!

O youth or young man, who fancy that you are neglected by the gods,

know that if you become worse, you shall go to worse souls, or if better to the better...

In every succession of life and death, you will do and suffer what like may fitly suffer at the hands of like.

This is the justice of heaven. ~Plato

A drunken and swaying man staggers out of an old tavern into the darkness of the night. He makes a few steps towards thick bushes, waving hands in the air to keep the balance. Too much wine and bitter food upset his stomach and the drunk man bends over the bushes, vomiting up whatever he had for supper.

The tavern is located behind the cemetery for the poor population and owned by an old, limp legionary Flavius Rufus. One can meet many and various people in the tavern while visiting it. Mostly carpenters, builders, former gladiators and whores.

A hoard of stray dogs is a usual sight here. The bones and skin of cooked animals are thrown behind the back wall of the tavern, where the hungry animals fight over them. The funny thing is that many of the dogs look fatter than those customers visiting this rat hole.

The lantern dimly lights up the entrance of the tavern. It's not hard to guess what one can expect while going inside. The first impression comes from looking at the door, which is probably hundreds of years old, cracked and half off its hinges, creaking and fraying the nerves of the visitors on windy nights.

There are small, uneven stone stairs leading down, inside the tavern so the visitors can enter a big room with wooden benches, tables and half-broken stools. The room is always filled with smoke, different scents of sweat, wine, cooking food, and sex mixed up. Drunken laughter, roaring, (though many stated they were singing) clanking of plates and cups, lewd moans and screams, half naked bodies or even worse, people fucking right on the tables is a normal thing here at this tavern, which hardly can be called a tavern.

In the wall near the kitchen where Flavius Rufus' female slaves are cooking, is a door leading to a secret room (as Flavius likes to think), where for paying additional sesterces one can engage in carnal pleasures with prostitutes of either sex. And now, the room is occupied judging by the moans and grunts coming out from behind the closed door.

A young, naked man is sitting on a poor imitation of a bed, head thrown back and thighs spread wide. One hand is gripping the wrinkled bed sheets, while the other one is resting and gently pushing against the head of a male prostitute settled between his parted legs.

"Mmm, yes, like that. Just like that. Work with your tongue….fuuuuuuck…. Take it deeper, you little dirty whore…." The man bites his lips and thrusts up into the hot mouth wrapped around his pulsing length.

Looking at the moaning man, his perfect body with chiseled muscles, strong arms, broad shoulders, and taut thighs, it's easy to guess that he is a warrior. Or was, at least.

The grip of his hand tightens in the hair of the prostitute. Green eyes filled with lust close in utter bliss and a guttural moan escapes his full, parted lips when the skillful tongue licks up the shaft, teasing the slit with the tip.
"You like it when I fuck your pretty little mouth don't you?" The man pants and shakes his head to throw the stray strands of his long, blond hair over the shoulder. The rolls of his hips are getting faster, a clear sign of impending orgasm.

The prostitute, a beautiful young man from Greece, with brown eyes and long, dark hair just hums his agreement, sending jolts of pleasure to the receiver, making him gasp and curse aloud when a powerful and unexpected orgasm is ripped out of him.

Those strong hands grab and unceremoniously tug the prostitute's head down, impaling it on his cock, while the man shoots his release into the wet, burning heat.

"Quintus…" A muffled but desperate cry.

"My apologies, sugar. But your mouth, gods your mouth is sweet like the milk from Juno's breasts." A deep, husky voice that belongs to Quintus Atticus, rasps and a calloused hand pats the prostitute's cheek, showing what a good boy he is. He quickly stands up, gathering his clothes.

"Don't go anywhere. I am not done with you yet." He pulls the younger man to his chest, feeling the strained erection against his belly. "And, Demetrius," the man smirks, "no touching yourself. I will be back to stretch that lovely ass of yours to the limit, so you just wait for me."

Quintus kisses the man, licking into his mouth and tasting himself on the tip of his tongue. He pats Demetrius' round, delicious looking ass and grabs an amphora full of red wine. After a few gulps he leaves the room and the half naked prostitute in it.

"Oh, look who's here!" the butcher, Titus Manilius, greets him with a drunken snicker, as he tries to stay on his feet with the help of a toothless prostitute named Lutecia.

"May the gods bless you too, Titus," Quintus says amicably, raising his amphora and taking a sip. "Any new gossip you've heard lately?"

"Yes, my friend. I swear by Pluto's throne, I've heard many things." Titus nods frantically and looks around cautiously. "But there is one, which I want to share with you!"

"Enlighten me," Quintus laughs, punching the man in the shoulder playfully.

"No, not here," Titus whispers. "We should choose a dark corner. This is not for every ear. Lutecia, love of my life, you are free to go. I will call for you later." The butcher smacks the woman and the prostitute runs away cackling merrily, believing naively that she has found the man of her dreams.

They are lucky as some quarreling drunk soldiers have just vacated a table in the corner, near the front door, and Titus followed by Quintus hurry to occupy the seats. The young man puts his half-empty amphora on the table and leans on his forearms.

"So, what is it you've heard?"

"You remember the whole Jugurtha mess, don't you? Do you know why he was so favored by Romans? It appears that he bribed Lucius Calpurnius Bestia who was sent to defeat his army. Jugurtha surrendered and he was given such favorable terms that it caused a lot of doubts. Therefore he was summoned to Rome." Titus takes a greedy gulp right from the amphora, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Guess what happened later."

Quintus frowns, a slight wrinkle forming between his light brown eyebrows. "He got in some trouble?"

"Hah, no trouble my friend. He bribed two tribunes and they prevented him from testifying."

"Lucky bastard." Quintus smiles.

"And now," Titus looks around conspiratorially. "I've heard that they are sending Aulus Postimius Albinus Magnus to finally kill the man."

"Let us hope that the brother of the consul will be much luckier and succeeds." Quintus sips the drink.

"Also, there is one mor…" Titus is cut off by a loud, sharp voice.

"Quintus Atticus!"

The two men at the table flinch and stare at the newcomers: two soldiers and their commander. "I've been searching for you in the whole town and yet, here you are." The commander's smirk is predatory.

"Yes, as far as your all-seeing eyes are not deceiving you." Quintus snorts. He knows where this is going.

"Spare me your clever comments. There is only one thing I need from you and you know perfectly well what it is," the commander leans forward and whispers coldly. "You owe me two thousand Denarii and I need them now." His words hiss like a venomous snake into the young man's ear.

"You will get your money but I am afraid not today as I do not have it." Quintus looks the man in the eyes without blinking. His voice is surprisingly calm.

"I will not wait any longer. Either you give them to me right now, or I swear to Jupiter, I will send my men to your mother and precious little sister Silvia. And trust me, my men know how to spend time."

"You will not dare, Sextus!" The young man rises from his seat, clenching his fists.

"Try me!"

A quick and powerful punch sends one of the soldiers flying across the room. The second soldier joins him in a few seconds, thudding on a table, breaking it in half. The noise and screams get louder as the fight gets more heated. Apparently Quintus is well known and respected in this tavern, as some people volunteer to help him and smash plates and amphoras over the heads of the soldiers who had driven their swords out to attack their commander's rival.

Meanwhile Quintus grabs the commander's wrist, squeezing so tightly that the man cries out and his sword falls out of his hold. The young man grabs Sextus' hair and bangs his head against the table, breaking his nose and eyebrow. He's ready to repeat it when a new voice sounds behind them:

"Enough!"

The butcher, who had been sitting at the table and watching the scene without participating in it and Quintus, who's holding the commander's neck ready to break it in any minute, turn their heads to see Aulus Valerius Martialis, a lanista, the owner of a gladiators' school.

"What are you asking of this man, Sextus?" His narrow, grey eyes study the bloody face of the commander, flailing in the young warrior's hold.

"He owes me two thousand Denarii and doesn't want to pay," Sextus barks, still trying to break free.

"Is that true?" Aulus shifts his gaze from the commander to Quintus, who lowers his gaze. Aulus is a very respected citizen of Rome.

"I see," Aulus nods slowly. "How about we make a deal," he suggests suddenly.

"A deal? What deal?" Quintus asks suspiciously.

"What would you say if I paid these two thousand Denarii for you?"

"Why would you do that?" The young man narrows his eyes, looking at the lanista doubtfully. Of course Aulus will ask for something in return, he only wonders what.

"Maybe because I am a generous man and want to help you?" Aulus smiles.

Quintus snorts. "Of course. And you wouldn't ask for something from my side. What is it that you want from me?"

"I've been watching you for some time and know how experienced and skillful a warrior you are. I want you to join the rows of my gladiators. If you win twenty times in a row, without a single defeat, you will be a free man again. What do you say?"

Quintus lets out a shuddering breath. There is no way in all the underworld that he can find this much money or another opportunity to earn it. He is indeed very experienced, has been in many battles, fought against numerous tribes and he knows what he's capable of. Twenty victories. That's the only thing being asked of him.

"I agree," the young man says after a moment's hesitation.

"Good." The lanista rubs his hands together. "Now release the man for Jupiter's sake."

Sextus is thrown into a violent fit of coughing as soon as Quintus lets go of him. The commander rubs his aching throat, glaring daggers at the young man.

"Sextus, come for your money tomorrow at noon. I will gladly share Athenian fine wine with you." Aulus pats the commander's shoulder.

After the commander and his beaten-up soldiers leave the tavern, Aulus turns to the young warrior.

"Are you ready to come with me?"

Quintus throws a look at the secret room's door, remembering Demetrius, who's probably tired of waiting, and lets out a throaty chuckle.

"Can you give me one more hour, lanista?"

Aulus arches his brows. "An hour? What do you need it for?"

Quintus shifts from one foot to another, feeling a bit embarrassed. But before he answers his butcher friend cuts in:

"You see lanista, there is a very appetizing piece of ass waiting for him in that room and probably whining like a little bitch."

Aulus lets out a loud, pleasant laugh. "Oh, my apologies. Of course, by all means, go and enjoy yourself. I will just take a seat right here and have a nice chat with your friend. Go."

Quintus mutters his thanks and heads towards the secret room to keep his promise: to stretch Demetrius' delicious ass down on his dick.