ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

8

Surprisingly, you weren't punished for sneaking away.

You had been expecting the other shoe to drop as soon as Sam had left the room (after giving the guards that had been standing by the door a stern scolding), but nothing came your way. You chalked it up to them simply not knowing which one of the prisoners you were - if they hadn't noticed you sneaking away, they weren't going to notice you sitting in a crowd of other people.

You didn't face the windows this time you sat down, and the noise from the colosseum barely permeated your mind. You were too busy replaying how Sam had walked you back to the dining hall - he hadn't even seemed upset that you had almost been about to touch his trident; his gift from his patron god no less.

Perhaps you had been too harsh to judge, clouded by your own fear and anger at this place.

You didn't see Sam again until two days later, when the guards escorted you and your cellmates to your final training session, back in the room you had first met the warden in.

He was already perched on the balcony again when you walked in, green eyes finding you immediately. You smiled slightly, offering it up as a sign of thanks and peace between the two of you. You weren't surprised when Sam just blinked at you in return - he didn't seem like the type to smile too much.

You took a spot near the back of the room, still in view of where Sam was perched on the balcony. As soon as everyone had filed into the room and the doors were swung shut, Sam cleared his throat, drawing all the attention in the room.

"Swords are over there - and when you've grabbed one, split into pairs. We're doing some basic sparring today."

You snatched one of the swords off the racks, retreating back to your spot. You really didn't feel like bothering with pairing up to spar - it was futile, when no one in this room was going to last longer than a few minutes out in the arena. It was almost amusing, seeing how some of your cellmates were taking the training so seriously, like any of them would stand a chance against even the least experienced of the caesar's champions.

It seemed there were a few people who shared your opinion as well, finding their way to the edges of the room like you, just to lean against the wall and watch as those who were participating in the session clumsily wielded their weapons. You twirled the sword in your hand, still not used to the grip. It was heavy and unbalanced - almost engineered to help you fail.

The clang of rusty metal filled the room, and you tipped your head back against the wall, gaze finding broad shoulders easily. Sam was on the other side of the room, helping another one of your group members grip their sword the correct way. He worked with steady hands, re arranging how they were holding their sword until the grip was steadier, and allowed for movement.

If only any of his help would make a difference.

As if sensing eyes on him, Sam looked up, green eyes connecting with yours across the room. Seeing that you were just loitering against the back wall, he started over towards you, cutting through the sparring pairs with ease. If it was any of the other guards, you would have been nervous.

Strangely, you weren't with Sam, even though he was the warden.

He stopped in front of you, looking down to meet your eyes. "What happened to sparring in pairs?"

"I don't think swinging rusty swords at each other is going to make a difference to whether we live or die." You said. "I'd like to enjoy my last days on this earth and relax a bit, sir warden."

Sam huffed out a gentle laugh. "Anyone else would have struck you for talking back."

"I know." You said, bringing a hand up to the slowly fading bruise that still rested on your cheek.

"C'mon." Sam said, nodding his head for you to follow him. You reluctantly pushed off the wall, sword swinging by your side as you followed Sam back across the room, to where another one of your group members (a girl who seemed about your age, maybe a tad younger) had also been standing against the wall, shrinking away from the sparring going on.

Sam beckoned the girl over to where you had stopped, just enough space for another pair to get to work. "Go on now, let's see it."

You gripped your sword properly, how you had seen Sam adjust that other man's hands before, holding the weapon out in front of you and waiting for the girl to strike. She did, shakily, and you caught it with your own blade, sliding the hit away. You traded blows for a few minutes, but your opponent kept looking at Sam nervously, obviously waiting fro him to say something. When he did, she jumped a little.

"You're not keeping your center of gravity low enough."

"Oh." She said, sounding meek. "How-"

"See how Y/N is moving from the hip and not the chest?" Sam said, placing a hand on your stomach. "You want to keep your center of gravity here," He squeezed. "So that you have your full range of movement. It also helps if you keep your knees bent a little instead of locking them."

The girl nodded, eyeing Sam's hand where it rested on your stomach.

Sam released his grip on you, clapping you on the shoulder. "Don't think you can go slacking off again, alright? I'm coming back around." With that, he was heading back into the rest of the room, critiquing other groups as they tussled.

The ghost of his hand settled over your stomach, reminding you of the weight and heat of when it had rested there.

Shaking it off, you raised your sword again, meeting the girls blow halfway this time.