Greeks, Gladiators, Gore
Slavery and Mystery
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, alas. I only own my OCs. You have no reason to sue me.
Roman soldiers torched Percy's home. Crops, tools and wood were set alight. Children fled from the horrific sight as their parents were either killed or captured. As a loyal fifteen-year-old would do, Percy tried to fend the attackers off. His hands were bound and Percy, along with his mother, was dragged off to an iron cage. Screams of outrage exited his girlfriend's mouth. Percy mouthed, "Save yourself," to her. The refugees gave up hope and fled. More children were beaten and gagged. More parents were cut down. More chaos entered the scene every second...
. . .
Sweat dripped from Perseus Jackson's brow. Finally, the nightmare had ended, though alas, his sightings were real. Two years ago, all of those events happened, much to Percy's dismay. Now, at seventeen years of age, Percy was to fight in the Colosseum every afternoon, purely for the entertainment of others.
Percy rose from his bed of hay and staggered over to the water bucket. Eagerly, he dipped his cupped hands into it and splashed his tanned face with the contents of the bucket, smiling as he did so. Water always seemed to rejuvenate Percy.
Extra sleep was impossible for Percy to gain, so he decided to do some early-morning training. He glanced at his comrades before leaving his open cell, hoping that their deep sleeps would not come to a sudden halt. Training at such an early hour was prohibited unless someone of a higher rank gave you permission to do so. Why not? They've already punished me enough. I'm gonna die some day, Percy thought as he crept away from the other slaves and out onto the training grounds.
When he arrived at the concrete court, Percy looked around once more to reassure his loneliness. The grounds appeared to be clear. Percy picked up a sword and began to hack away at a dummy; practising the skill he was taught – killing.
Time passed and Percy began to tire. After three consecutive hours of mutilating scarecrows, any human would feel weak. Blades were not easy to lift. Percy dropped his sword and collapsed against the arena's wall, mopping his brow with his shirt. His sword made a loud CLANG as it hit the cement floor.
Damn.
Percy began to curse in a language that the Romans had forbidden – Ancient Greek. Those who spoke the language were condemned to death. Only those who were Greek knew how to speak it.
Although it was advised for him not to, Percy could not help but remember the precious moments of his past life; the village he and his friends lived in, the face of his beautiful mother, the thought of returning home to a warm meal and comfort. All of those things were long gone, but Percy treasured them more than anything else.
Footsteps thudded along the training arena and a bulky figure came into clear view. Standing in front of Percy was a man dressed in a simple tunic, clutching a very sharp sword. "What language was that, Jackson? Oh, wait, I know. You miss your old home, Graecus?" Marcus snarled at the exhausted boy.
"Well, Marcus, you could be wrong. After all, you can't even understand Latin," Percy retorted and got to his feet. Marcus had the potential to be a gladiator. In fact, Marcus had every gladiatorial aspect radiating from him: he was arrogant, strong, violent, merciless and good with a sword. Naturally, when they first met, Percy instantly disliked him.
"Whatever. You and me are gonna fight. Right here, right now. To the death," Marcus demanded with his glowering face turned in Percy's direction. And Percy knew why Marcus was angry at him. Last month, the spear that Percy was training with impaled Marcus' arm. It cured quickly, but Marcus yearned for revenge.
"Fine, we'll fight. This is a foolish move, though, and you'll be dead. I have no intention of dying today," Percy rolled his eyes at his opponent's lack of wisdom. With that, the two rivals began to circle each other, both yielding razor-sharp swords.
However, Percy was the foolish one. Any man, gladiator or not, would be tired after three hours of training. Was a fight really the best thing to participate in at that moment?
Marcus bellowed in rage and lunged at Percy's stomach, but Percy dodged with ease, and countered with a slice at Marcus' sword arm. No damage was inflicted. A painful punch was aimed at Percy's gut, and when the fist of Marcus made contact with him, Percy cried out in agony. The hilt of Marcus' sword came crashing down on Percy's shoulder. Death was seemingly near.
"Because I'm nice, Graecus, I'm gonna give you two more minutes to live. Actually, make that one," Marcus spat while pinning Percy down with his foot. You? Nice? That's definitely not true, Percy thought, but he didn't dare to tell Marcus.
Percy began to feel dizzy, and groaned in pain as he let his head smash against the ground. He thought he saw a cloaked girl on the arena's roof, but quickly dismissed the idea – must have been a hallucination. But was it?
A blonde curl escaped from a black cloak, flailing in the faint wind. Delicate fingers curled around a sheathed weapon, which the mysterious person quickly drew. Presumably, the figure was a girl. As she neared the edge of the rooftop, Percy examined her more with slightly more ease. Her blonde curls were tied in a loose pony-tail and her grey eyes fixed on Marcus.
Blonde, curly hair. Calculating grey eyes. I know her...
Percy's trail of thought diverted to another memory – his girlfriend. She managed to escape the ambush on the village, as far as Percy could remember.
"Alas, your minute is up, Jackson. Night," Marcus chuckled as his sword pressed against Percy's chest.
Suddenly, a strangled gasp came from Marcus. A Celestial Bronze knife pierced Marcus' back, blood seeping from the fatal wound. He dropped to the ground, dead.
The blonde was an assassin, from the look of things. She leapt down from the roof elegantly and stared at Percy.
Percy stared at the teenager who murdered his enemy. She looked exactly the same as Annabeth Chase – his girlfriend. "Seaweed Brain..? Is that you..?" she stammered, her eyes filling up with tears. Percy sprinted up to her and pulled her into a close embrace, which she gratefully returned. That girl was surely Annabeth.
"I'm here, Wise Girl. Gods, I missed you..." Percy's crackling voice faltered as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He was standing in the middle of a training arena, kissing his beautiful girlfriend. Nothing else in the world mattered but the taste of her sweet lips. They remained like that for a few minutes before reluctantly breaking apart for air.
"Percy, I'm so sorry. I should have never left you... I love you, Seaweed Brain. I-I-I-I thought y-y-you w-were d-d-dead," Annabeth let tears run down her crestfallen face.
"Shh, Wise Girl... I'll always be here, Annabeth," Percy whispered and planted a soft kiss onto her forehead. They stood there, holding each other, and just enjoyed the bliss while they could. Surviving two years without any comfort was virtually impossible, after all.
Just then, a venomous voice sounded from behind, "Well, well, well. Perseus Jackson, didn't I advise you to forget your past life? You never told me about a special girl, did you? Well, killing her isn't an option. She seems fit enough to fight in the arena. Hmm, I like that idea. A female fighting in the Colosseum will surprise the crowd. Yes, that's perfect! Welcome to the crew, girl. Train well, and you won't die. Oh, and Perseus? Do explain why you're out here."
What do you think? Is it good? I will keep uploading chapters to my other story, but I just can't let my other ideas slip by. Currently, I am reading Gladiator: Fight for Freedom, which inspired me to write this fan-fiction!
Anyways, some reviews would be appreciated! Ze Piglet shall always be with you!
Love ZPBM.
