ARISTOS ACHAION // Awesamdude X Reader

17

In two days time, you found yourself in a very similar position as you had been before you stepped into the ring to fight Diana, only this time, slightly more prepared. Instead of a clumsy sword in your hand, your fist was clamped around the handle of your spear. Armor had been offered to you, but you had declined - you would have rather not cooked to death in bronze plates if it was up to you.

As you watched the people file into the colosseum from the vestibule, your mind raced, going over everything you had learned in the past week that you would need to hopefully defeat Prosperine. All the pointers Sam had given you in your training sessions rolled around in your mind, combining with the hours you had spent watching him fight. You had something of a strategy - it was just a matter of putting it all together.

Across the ring, you could see the arch that led in to the other vestibule. Inside, you were sure Prosperine was thinking the same thing about you.

"You don't seem nervous."

You turned at Sam's voice, watching as he entered the vestibule. He was dressed in his armor again, holding his trident at his side - the glow of the halo extending over him now. After training with him and seeing him without his warden's finery for so long, it was a little strange, seeing him dressed like he was going to war.

You turned back to the open arch in front of you, staring out over the sand. The sound of chatter as people found their seats was growing. "No," You said. "I'm not particularly nervous - either this turns out well for me, or it doesn't."

Sam hummed, coming to stand beside you, just under the shade of the archway. "You know, I always found that strange, about you. You weren't nervous when you were going to fight Diana, and you still aren't afraid now." He paused, glancing over at you. "Your bravery is no small feat."

"I have no qualms about dying." You said. "Not when the world is in such shambles as it is."

A silence stretched over you, and you turned your attention back out into the colosseum. It was no surprise to you that Sam was here - no doubt he was supposed to see that you actually went into the arena. In the back of your mind, you were grateful for his presence - if this was the end, and despite all your efforts Prosperine killed you, it would be nice to have the last person you'd spoken to be someone that had been kind to you in your last days.

"I suppose I should thank you." You said.

Sam's eyes wandered over to you. "What for?"

"For helping me learn the spear." You said. "For telling me about Prosperine, for lending me your attentions when I needed them. You've been kind, kinder than a warden should be to a prisoner - especially one who killed a champion."

Sam smiled, just that little upturn in the corner of his mouth again. "Kindness, you say? I would call it more of an investment. Against my better judgement, I would like to see you succeed."

The admission made you turn, looking at him fully. "Really?"

"Really." Sam confirmed with a nod. "It would be truly something to see you best three champions."

You hummed. It would be something, to defeat three champions, but that would mean that you yourself would become one, working under the caesar and killing hundreds of prisoners daily, if the need called. It would be something, but you would hate it - and Sam very well knew that. "That's an awfully roundabout way to say that you'd be a little upset if I died."

Sam huffed out a little laugh, but didn't deny anything.

You tilted your head back, looking up to the sky just outside the edge of the arch that you were standing under now. The colosseum was filling nicely - more so than usual. People wanted to see this fight, you were sure. It wasn't every day that someone made it to that second round in the arena, and Prosperine always brought in a heft crowd.

Your eyes found their way to the caesar's box, up above the rest of the crowd. Vesapasian looked down on his people, eyes scanning over the faces of those who he had failed. Just watching him there, well fed and uncaring that his own people were starving in the streets, made your already obsessive intent harden into something more. You wanted to kill Prosperine. You wanted to kill his champion right in front of him.

Sam rested a hand on your shoulder, steadying. "Don't let your anger blind you as you fight - remember what we practiced."

You took a steadying breath, rearranging your grip on the spear. If you wanted to win this, you would need your wits about you - Prosperine would not be easy to defeat, even with what you had learned from Sam. Rushing into the arena angry would do you no good - in fact, it would be the end of you. "Right." You said.

"Remember to utilise every opening you get." Sam said. "Getting too close to him is dangerous, so use the range your spear affords you - and both ends, are still important, not just the head." He paused. "The most important thing is to convince him to fight you without his fire though-"

"I know." You said cutting him off. Almost immediately after you said it, you amended your statement. "Sir."

Sam smiled thinly. "There's no need for the formality now, I think." Not when you're about to possibly die went unsaid, but you heard it all the same.

You watched as Vesapasian raised a hand in his box, signaling the fight to start. A roar went up from the crowd as Prosperine stepped into the ring from the other vestibule, his arms thrown wide like a savior coming home to his people.

Your grip on the spear tightened as Sam laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezed, before you stepped into the ring.