Q had envisioned this day differently. It should have been his last, public speech. A brilliant example of his rhetoric art, delivered at the Forum Magnum. A day to be remembered, long after he was gone. A day that should have ensured his reputation as a safeguard against whoever would become the next leader of Rome. But no, leisure would have to wait for years to come.

"This is not what I planned," Q sighed, his voice still rough.

"It will be fine," James said quietly, kissing his lover and hugging him close.

Two days ago, young Pliny had visited. Q had been looking forward to meeting his former student. It had been years since they had last spoken. But instead of discussing the newest gossipings and argue about proper grammar rules and the who, why, and what of their rhetorics, Pliny's account of Pompeii's demise, the death of his father, buried deep under the raining ashes, and Pliny's narrow escape filled the evening and night.

Q consoled Pliny as best he could, fighting down his own sorrow and grief. Pliny's father had been a dear friend, despite their differences. Then, old Pliny dealt the final blow to their friendship. The gift.

Pliny's father knew about Q's opposition to slavery, and yet, here it was. The gift. Two slaves saved from Pompeii by mere chance. Pliny's father had ordered them to stay on the ship for days before their departure, to help with getting everything ready for their journey back to Rome. A journey turned into a desperate fight for their lives, having to leave Older Pliny behind; Younger Pliny barely survived the rain of ash and stone when he had made his escape from the doomed city, the slaves whipped bloody by their captain, everybody's life depending on the rowers' speed.

Eventually, young Pliny had left. Q barely held it together. He collapsed into the arms of James. His lover and confidant, who had held his hand during Pliny's tale, had filled their glasses and served the food. Unfazed by Pliny's arrogant attitude towards him, a former slave, now a Freedman.

Q felt deeply grateful for having James by his side, living with Q by his own choosing. James had held him close through the night, cuddled and kissed him when the grief became overwhelming. But the sorrow was paired with the anxiousness of the two new lifes, Q would have to care for.

He wondered if this was old Pliny's revenge for Q believing in the equality of men. It was the one argument, both men had agreed to disagree upon. Younger Pliny held his father's belief, clearly demonstrated by his treatment of James during his visit. And when the two slaves arrived at Q's house the next morning, James and Q looked in utter disbelief. A sorry sight they were. Dirty, traumatized, and emaciated. But most notably was the likeness of the one called Daniel or Danny with Q. It was as if old Pliny was mocking him from beyond his grave. Here he is, old Pliny would put his argument, a man like you, Quintilian, and yet, he is not, is he?

As frightened as Danny must have been when he saw Q standing in front of him, both James and Q noticed how protective he was of his companion, a younger, fair-haired, beautiful man with clear-cut features. Danny would stand in front of him, shielding him from Q and James, always keeping close to him. Also, his name, Alexander or Alex, was most surely not a name given to a child born into slavery. Yet, Alex didn't look like a warrior, taken as a slave when a battle was lost.

Both Danny and Alex were frightened, even if Alex was better at disguising his emotions. Danny delivered a scroll, the last message from old Pliny to his good friend Quintilian. The seal was unbroken, and James left Q to read it in peace, taking care of Danny and Alex in the meantime. A bath and new clothes were in order.

Q began reading, only to stop and start all over again after a few sentences. It was obviously old Pliny's writing, his sentences and wording too typical of the man and so very well known from their discussions and arguments. Q felt the tears on his cheeks, but he carried on, and when he finished, the sorrow was all but forgotten. Puzzled, he took the paper and held it up against the light. Turned it around and upside down. Traced the written lines with his fingers. He was still staring at the writing when James returned with Danny and Alex. Absent-minded, Q waved them into the dining room, telling James to prepare some food and drink. They needed to talk. All four of them.

Danny was uneasy. Sitting on the edge of the couch, turned towards James and Q, his eyes downcast, but attentive to the slightest movements of his masters. Behind him, Alex was sitting up, tense, but with his head held high. Watching them, Q was sure they were more than just friends. Glances between them, a touch, a whispered word. James had prepared a few plates with fruit and bread, as well as some light wine. Q's wine had been spiced with honey to help recover his voice. He still had a speech to deliver tomorrow. Now, however, he had more questions than answers.

"Pliny gave you to me as a gift," Q began.

Shuddering at his own words. He had believed James to be the last slave, the last man ever to be called his property. Instead, he now was the owner of two.

"But," Q frowned, "if his message is truthful, only one of you is a slave?"

Alex looked up, directly at Q, unable to hide his surprise. James lifted an eyebrow, as puzzled as Q had been.

"Danny is your slave, isn't he, Alexander?"

A small nod, as Alex watched Q's every move.

"But, Pliny still bought both of you from a trader? Only later realizing who he had bought?"

Danny flinched, biting his lower lip. Alex moved closer to Danny, taking his hand.

"Master Pliny had his suspicions. It's not your fault, Danny. I'm," Alex hesitated, "I am not a good slave. And master Pliny is – was a," again a short break as if apologizing, "a cruel master. When I failed a task, master Pliny would punish me."

At this, Danny jumped up, his hands balled into fists.

"He would flog you!" he shouted. "Hurt you! Punish you, whip you to an inch of your life!"

He turned and looked directly at Q, daring him. Seeing Q's shock, Danny deflated visibly.

"You were–, your wounds. The blood," he whispered with tears in his eyes.

He sat back down and took Alex's hand.

"I had to stop him. Had to tell him."

"I know, Danny. It's not your fault."

Alex looked back at Q and James.

"Master Pliny realised who I am."

Q took the scroll.

"You are a direct descendant of Augustus, our first emperor," Q said quietly. " As such, you are a potential threat to our reigning emperor."

Q sighed.

"I had no idea how much old Pliny must have hated me."

James looked bewildered between the three men.

"But, do you plan on challenging Titus?"

Alex shook his head, looking at Q.

"He doesn't need to. He would be a powerful asset for anyone challenging the emperor," Q explained. "Old Pliny gave him to me because he knew, I would do anything to keep this knowledge hidden. I have lived through the Year of the Four Emperors!"

Alex nodded.

"My father chose to send me away. A cousin of his sold me into slavery," Alex turned towards Danny. "You saved me, so many times."

Danny gripped Alex' hand and held on tight.

"My heritage is a curse."

Q sighed. He looked at James, who gave a small nod. They had discussed it before, opening a school, teaching the new emperor's sons. Q had declined, trying to avoid any political associations. He knew how dangerous it would be–for all of them–if he sided with the wrong party.

"Well, then I'll deliver my speech tomorrow. James, let Emperor Titus know, I'll be honored teaching his sons in my school to be."