ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

12

When you regained consciousness, you were still in the infirmary, though feeling significantly better than you had when Sam had carried out of the arena. Your cuts had been cleaned, and bandages wrapped around your arm and your neck now, holding healing salves to the skin, encouraging the skin to knit back together.

It still hurt to move, but at least you weren't struggling to even stand anymore.

When you were able to walk, one of the guards helped you back to the dining hall. It was eerily empty now - though you supposed there wouldn't have been too many people up for a meal in the middle of the night. No light streamed in through the barred windows now, as the sun had long since set over the terraced walls of the colosseum.

You took your meal slowly, in silence, under the torchlight and the gaze of the guard that had brought you here.

Though you had long since been wiped clean of any blood or grime, your hands still felt sticky. You couldn't get the sound Diana's body had made when it had hit the ground out of your head, and the sickening feeling of that knife hitting home, cutting through skin and muscle like butter.

Against all your wishes and predictions, you were still alive, and Diana was dead.

For all the thought you had put into dying, and how resigned you had been, your survival instinct had still kicked in the moment you entered the ring. The blood on your hands was there of your own volition, though against your wishes. The only reason you were able to eat then was because of the sheer hunger that had consumed you after your fight - and part of you still felt like hurling.

The doors to the dining hall opened and closed again with a thunk, causing you to look up from your meal and quiet your thoughts for a moment. Sam eyes first found you, and then the gaurd who had brought you here from the infirmary. He nodded once at the man, and then the guard was slipping out the door, and Sam was starting over to where you were sitting, sliding down onto the seat across from you.

The wood creaked as he lowered his full weight onto the bench, looking comically out of place as his knees scraped the bottom of the table. The sight made you smile slightly.

"Feeling a little better?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." You said, glancing down at your half-empty plate. "Eating is a little hard though."

"Did you hurt your jaw?" Sam asked. "I didn't think you hit it on anything-"

"No, it just kind of feels like I'm going to throw up." You said. "It's really weird, being as hungry as I am but also having to really force down the food." You paused, picking at the food in front of you. "Is that normal, after..?"

"It'll fade." Sam assured you. "It's good that you're able to move around a bit and eat at all - it'll help you get back on your feet faster."

A moment of silence stretched over the table as you forced another bite down. If not for the nauseating hunger roiling in your stomach, it wouldn't feel real, sitting across the table from Sam, neither of you saying anything in the low torchlight. It almost didn't feel real now, and you were living it.

"Did anyone else from the group I was in make it?" You asked.

Sam shook his head, not seeming particularly upset about the fact that over a hundred people had met their end just a few hours prior - though you supposed that came with the job. "Just you. It was quite the upset, I'll have you know."

"I'm sure." You said, bitterly. "I'm already regretting it - I should have just rolled over and died."

Sam paused, saying nothing for a moment. "Well, you can't change it now."

"I know." You said, taking another bite from the plate in front of you. For better or worse, you had prolonged your time in this hell. "What happens now?"

"That's what I'm supposed to talk to you about." Sam said. "It's not every day that a prisoner actually makes it through the first round in the colosseum."

You were beginning to hate that you had been one of the few to make it.

"From here onwards, you'll be fighting two more of the caesar's champions." Sam explained. "If you can defeat three champions, you yourself will become one of the caesar's gladiators. Diana was the first - and the easiest you'll fight."

Wonderful. You were set on a path of destruction of life now, and should you endure, the reward would be to become one of the caesar's prized killing machines.

"Do I get more training?" You asked. "I won't be able to get that lucky again-"

"Sort of." Sam said. "You get access to that training room that you stumbled upon when you slipped out of your meal that day, what you do with the access if up to you."

That was something, you supposed. You would have liked more instruction, but you supposed that the colosseum didn't really want you to kill three of their champions - after all, they set hundreds of prisoners up to fail in the arena regularly. Hopefully now you would get somewhat better gear - you weren't looking forward to getting sliced to pieces again if you could help it.

"Do you know who I'm fighting next?" You asked. There were about thirty champions the caesar regularly put in the arena - some more than others, depending on what kind of show they put on. You had no idea who would be pitted against you - hopefully either someone who would kill you without hesitation, or someone that you had a chance of defeating.

Across the table from you, Sam nodded slightly, resting his hands on the table in front of you, clasped together. "Prosperine." He said, voice heavy. "One of Floga's chosen."

Floga, the god of the sun, always depicted with flaming plumage.

Fire.