ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

11

Diana's body slumped to the ground, her own knife still stuck in her back. You rolled out from under her, breathing heavy. You could feel your own heartbeat in the gash in your arm and the wound in the back of your neck. Hot blood poured down the back of your neck as you stumbled to your feet.

The roar of the crowd hit you a moment later, your senses finally coming back to you as you felt the adrenaline in your body slump into a crash.

It was louder than anything you had heard that day - the entire colosseum shook with it, the sound reverberating off the columns that held the terraced seats up above the pit. People were leaning over the edges, shouting down at you. It was a bit confusing - the crowd was split almost in half, some screaming at Diana to get up, to finish you off, some cheering for you, that you had killed her.

You were more concerned about the blood that was pouring out of you, and the growing sense of dizziness that made you fall back to your knees.

Also, the fact that you were alive was interesting. You hadn't thought you would make it this far.

Footsteps on the sand behind you made you plant your hands down, trying to push yourself back onto your feet. Sam had said that staying on your feet was the most important thing, and here you were, on your knees. The gash in your arm made the entire appendage hurt to move - how were you supposed to wield the knife if you could only really use one arm? You had defeated Diana, but your victory would be short lived-

The footsteps came to a stop behind you and you tensed, bracing yourself for the bite of metal into your skin.

Instead, warm hands found their way under your shoulders, lifting you up out of the sand. The movement made the gash in your arm strain, and your head slumped forward on instinct as you bit back a groan. Unhelpfully, your mind replayed the memory of Ceres lifting that man into the air to tear him in half.

"Hey."

You tipped your head back, finding bright green eyes. The rest of the adrenaline that had been keeping you somewhat upright drained, and you slumped into Sam's grip. Even if he was about to kill you, you really didn't want to fight him.

"Hi." You breathed. "I stayed on my feet until the end." You didn't really know why you said it, but in the delirium it felt important.

"I saw." Sam said, rearranging his grip on you so that he was fully holding you now. "You did good." He said, draping one of your arms - the one without the gash - around his neck. You slumped into the hold in a boneless heap.

Sam started back towards the vestibule, carrying you across the sand. Your eyes found their way back up to the caesar's box, still empty. It wouldn't be long before the news reached him that one of his champions had been slain. One of the newer and less popular ones, but still one of his champions nonetheless.

The blood on the back of your neck was making a wet spot on Sam's tunic.

"I'm dirtying your shirt." You said, shifting in his hold.

"It's fine." Sam said, glancing down at you for a second. "Just stay awake, alright?"

"I can do that." You said, watching as Sam's gaze refocused on the path ahead. With the sun shining down at this angle, he looked like some sort of god. Though, with the blessing from his patron, he almost was.

"Sam?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Yes?"

"Who's your patron?"

Sam's eyes darted down towards you. "That's what you're worried about right now?"

"You never said." You said.

Sam smiled, just the corner of his mouth lifting up slightly. "Amartia." He said.

The lighting changed as Sam carried you into the vestibule, out of the harsh sunlight of the colosseum. That made sense - of course someone who had earned the favor of the god of the underworld would become the warden of the colosseum. Explained the trident too - Amartia liked those who they favored to carry their symbol. You could see why Amartia had taken a liking to Sam - he was strong, and seemed kind, if the way he was carrying you now was any indication.

"Where are we going?" You asked, suddenly feeling tired. You fought the feeling as your eyelids began to droop to half mast - Sam had asked you to stay awake.

"The infirmary to get you patched up, and then you'll need to eat." Sam said. "I'm supposed to speak to you about what happens now that you've killed Diana too, but I think that can wait."

You hummed, fighting to keep your eyes open. The dimly lit halls of the prison weren't helping though, nor was the gentle rocking of Sam carrying you. You felt, more than saw, him turn left, and then right, following a path you didn't know through the prison. You could still hear the gentle thrum of noise from the colosseum above you now - no doubt they had brought in another champion to continue the slaughter.

Maybe someone else in the long line of prisoners you had come from would get lucky.

A door opened, and then Sam was setting you down on a cot, one hand rolling you so that you were face down, the gash on the back of your neck and your arm exposed. You heard him say something, but the words escaped you, the delirium taking over you now. Your eyes finally won the fight and fluttered shut, giving way to the adrenaline crash and exhaustion.

Something cold pressed at your neck, wiping the now sticky blood away. Your last thought before your mind drifted into the recesses of your consciousness was not of Diana, or the miracle of your survival. Instead, it was of Sam's tunic, and how it was soiled with your blood.