ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

3

You stayed in that holding cell for two days - or at least, that's what the other people you were stuck in there with were saying. Time had sort of left you after a while, the only real indicator of how long you had been down here the ache in your back from where you leaned up against the bars, and the rumble in your stomach that was only getting worse.

You would have killed a man for that apple right now.

It mocked you, as you faded in and out of consciousness throughout the time you waited. The memory of the ripe flesh of the fruit torn apart on the mosaic tiled ground only made the wound in your stomach open more. Seething hatred for the guard who had caught you began to roil in your chest - not because he had brought you here, but because he had been so wasteful of food.

You closed your eyes as the scene replayed in your head. Even the mosaic seemed to have been laughing at you then...

A hand brushing across your shoulder snapped you out of your daze, and you picked your head up, making eye contact with the woman who had touched you. She said nothing, only tilting her head slightly. Around her, the rest of the people who had been stuck in the cell with you were moving, piling towards the exit as the guards funneled them down the hallway and further into the prison.

You were leaving.

Winding a hand around the bars behind you, you hauled yourself to your feet on slightly shaky legs. You weren't surprised that it hurt a little to walk - you were running on empty, and you hadn't moved since you arrived in the cell. Still, you followed the rest of the crowd out of the cell, finding a safe place in the middle of the pack. You weren't trying to get hit again - the hand print bruised into your skin was a painful enough reminder of how idiotic you had been.

The footsteps of the crowd echoed against the stone walls as you made your way through the winding halls of the prison. You had no idea where you were going, but part of you didn't care - there was a cut on your neck, a bruise on your face and you were so hungry it hurt. You didn't have the energy to care about where you were going - it was draining just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

You didn't notice the thrum of noise coming through the walls until the crowd was slowing down. Ahead of you, another guard opened a set of doors, and the movement started up again as everyone poured into a larger room, filled with long wooden tables and benches. The smell of food is what hit you most though, and you eagerly pushed forward with the rest of the people around you.

They were going to feed you.

It seemed most of the people around you had reached the same realization, as the crowd moved faster now, piling into the room. You let the crowd carry you, more focused on scanning the room for the source of the smell. There - over at the left side of the room, a long counter separated the kitchens from the rest of the dining hall. On it, meat skewers, free for the taking.

You made a beeline for the counters, grabbing as many skewers as you could before you were knocked out of the way.

Over by the doors, the guards were snickering to themselves, laughing at the crowd as they fought like dogs over the meat.

Scowling, you took your winnings to the farthest corner of the room, sitting down on one of the splintering benches there. You dug in greedily, not even caring that the meat was mostly just fat - nothing of real nutritional value - more interested in filling your stomach. You tore through the skewers quickly (too quickly, probably) and soon enough you just had the wooden pikes left in your hand, devoid of all meat.

You tossed them down on the table, and took the opportunity to get a better look at the room.

It looked much like what you had expected a prison dining hall to look like - guards stationed every five feet, drab stone walls and splintering old tables. What you hadn't noticed upon entry that now drew your attention though, were barred windows, spaced out on the wall to your right. Every now and again, little puffs of dust would fall through the bars, drawing your curiosity.

Standing up, you walked over to the nearest one, peering through.

The colosseum floor opened up in front of you, white sand pressed up against the window. You could see everything but the seats behind you. Right now, the arena was empty, but you could picture it full - screaming masses egging on the caesar's champion fighters as they slaughtered prisoners in unfair fights. You had been to a few before - they had been good places to steal what you could, after all - but the fights had never been entertaining, to you at least.

You always had felt bad for the poor prisoners. It was kill or be killed, and who could stand a chance against god-gifted gladiators?

You'd never thought you'd find yourself as one of them, but there were worse ways to meet your end.

You'd had time to come to terms with it after all, in the time between when you had arrived in the holding cell and when they'd brought you here. If the choices were between dying here, in the colosseum, and starving out on the streets, here wasn't so bad. At least they fed you, and you would have a chance to fight for your life.

After seeing the caesar's champions though, you knew there was no way of living past the first round in the arena.

You weren't that upset about it though.