(most of) the characters in this story belong to Rick Riordan but the plot belongs to me !
Jason prepared himself for what he knew would be carnage.
The cell they kept him in reeked of fear and dread, the panic of the other men that had been held in it evident in the stench of terror that clung to the walls. Jason shook his hands out in front of him, puffing up his cheeks, the chanting crowd outside wracking his nerves more than they already were. He strode over to the other side of the waiting cell and picked up his spear, enjoying the familiar feeling of it's weight in his hands but not the heavy guilt that rested on it's gold tip.
His breathing echoed around the damp chamber as he stared at the sharp point of his spear and recounted the faces of the one, two, three - fifty people murdered by his hand. He'd slaughtered them while a crowd of thousands watched, their eyes widening and pulses racing with a sick thrill as blood was spilled on the dirt of the Colosseum.
Jason knew that the audience loved him, he'd survived for so long, beat so many impossible odds, but he was scared for his life today. They -whoever they was that decided these things - had given him a large brass shield. The front was emblazoned with the face of a lion roaring, it's teeth bared in a display of fury.
They usually gave him a spear, or a sword, sometimes a club. Sometimes nothing at all. But today they had donated him a shield, which meant that he was going to need to defend himself.
Jason went and sat by the door, his footsteps loud in the large empty space. The waiting area was sizeable and dank, the low ceilings designed to confuse gladiators when they stepped out into the open-top arena, providing too much light where there used to be little. Everything here was made to be unnerving and complicated, to make you feel like you were going insane. Jason shuddered.
Suddenly feeling uneasy being sedentary, he pulled his gold coin out of his pocket and flicked it up in the air, waiting and remembering what his sister had told him a year ago, as she pressed it into his palm.
Stay strong, Jason, they mean to break you. Don't give them that satisfaction.
Thalia's blue eyes still burned in his mind to this day, as well as the memory of the guards shoving her away from him, her black hair that had been once long cut short like a boy's. She had meant to run away and join a hunting party, but Jason never knew if she got that far.
"Jason?"
He stood quickly, slipping the coin back into his pocket, peaking through the peep hole in the wooden door, knowing who it was and how little time they had.
"Frank, you risk too much to be here right now. You are already on probation from last time, don't not remember?" Jason warned.
Jason worried Frank would be caught trying to help him one day, slipping him bread or giving him extra, concealable weapons.
"I must be quick but, Jason, you've got to know one of your opponents will be difficult to conquer. It's going to be a double-victor match. Ally with him. You won't have to try and oppose him" Frank advised, his voice rapid and rushed, but Jason listened carefully, absorbing every word.
"What makes him different from the rest?" Jason asked, ear pressed to the door.
"He claims to be a son of Neptune. Well..." Frank paused, and Jason banged his fist on the door.
"Please, we have so little time" Jason managed, the name of the sea God striking a terror through his spine.
"I, I'm sorry. The man says, well, he says Poseidon, which makes him a Greek. He is clearly insane, do not try to kill him. They needed five guards to get him into his chambers" Frank informed Jason with a shaky, infirm voice.
Son of Poseidon. A demigod. Or so he claims. Jason's heart leapt in his chest at the possibility that he was no longer alone.
"I must go" Frank said. "Good luck, friend." He then disappeared down the stone hall in a flash of gold armour and red plumage.
Jason nearly ran to the gates in trepidation, his brass shield strapped to his arm and his spear gripped tightly in his right hand, the light pouring in from the arena blindly bright.
A demigod. He wasn't crazy like they said. He wasn't insane.
Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the gates of his cell lifted with a scraping clamour, and Jason jogged out into the arena.
He was greeted with the cheering of a thousand people, their voices and stamping feet like thunder. It took Jason a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light of the midday sun beating down from the sky, like Helios himself had stopped his chariot mid flight to watch.
Two other barriers opened parallel to Jason, both of them containing burly men with deep scars and horrible red faces, their missing teeth reminders that they were veterans of the arena. None of them were demigods, though, that much Jason knew for sure. He waited eagerly for the last gate to open, palms becoming sweaty and armour almost weighing down his frantic heart.
The gate lifted with an almighty clank and into the dazzling sun stepped a teenage boy no older than Jason. He wore a greek helmet, the horse hair plume cut off in a show of rude humour. They'd made fun of the boy, mocking him by giving him wrecked Greek armour, its entirety dented-in and smashed, riddled with holes and rust. Useless celestial bronze that looked like it should have fallen apart when he put it on. They'd gone that bit further by giving him a trident and a weighted net, the weapons of Poseidon, which was humiliating.
The assemblage of people booed when he stepped into the light, shaking their fists at the Greek boy as if he was garbage. They would never like him, they would never root for him the way they did for Jason. If only they knew.
"LET THE GAME BEGIN" the announcer called out, resonating in Jason's skull as the usual words that could be the last he'd ever hear.
Jason charged immediately towards one of the large men, brandishing his spear and yelling the entire way, baring his teeth like the lion on his shield.
The man stabbed his sword forward, but at the last moment Jason dug the tip of his spear into the dirt and vaulted himself over the top of him before the man had known what had happened. As the he spun around to face Jason behind him, Jason threw his spear so hard it hit his opponent directly in the stomach and sent him flying backwards.
"Volo autem vos fortuna." Jason murmured over the roar of the crowd, pulling out his spear from the shaking man's gut. "Ubi vos terminus sursum." I wish you good luck where you end up.
The audience were pleased he'd taken the large man down so easily, although he knew they'd want him to make the other one's death last longer so they had more to watch. So, Jason turned, fully intending to charge the man and fight him to the death, when he found he'd been beaten to it.
The self-claimed demigod was taking on the other man.
The Greek boy fought amazingly, unimpeded by his destroyed armour. This was to Jason's utter surprise, and apparently the crowd's as well. But this confusion had them cheering louder than ever, waving their hands in the air and screaming discouragements at the chaotic outsider.
The boy had a different technique, slashing and rolling instead of direct fighting. Jason guessed it shouldn't be that surprising, under all the unnecessary, embarrassing armour, he looked like he had the body of a well trained soldier. Lean and tall, built for speed and agility.
The boy parried a blow with such force it knocked off his helmet, revealing a head of wavy black hair. Jason, finally struck to his senses, ran to the fight, ready to come to the Greek's aid and help him take down his opponent.
Then, to Jason's bewilderment, the boy lunged forward and rammed the large man through the throat with the trident.
Jason froze in shock, the abrupt blow surprising him.
The black-haired boy stabbed the man in the jugular, letting him stand and choke on his own blood and the rusty metal of the trident until finally, he jerked right and slashed his opponent's throat wide open. It was horrifying to behold and although he was a Greek criminal, the crowd cheered crazily in favour of him, going insane with the sight of pure bloodshed.
Jason's nostrils flared with disgust at the red that stained the sand of the Colosseum, too much to just be a wound.
The other boy's chest and shoulders heaved with laboured breaths, and he dropped the trident and net, collapsing to the ground. Jason sprinted over, getting down on his knees beside him. The cheering died down when the people realised he wasn't going in to kill the traitor.
"You shouldn't have won. Stay low and don't draw attention to yourself" Jason instructed in a low voice, his eyes fixed on the dead body, pale from lack of blood. The dead man's eyes watched their conversation, his slashed throat nauseating. Jason tore his eyes away, instead fixing them on the gladiator beside him. He turned when Jason did, his eyes green, narrowed, and just like waves during a hurricane, deadly and unforgiving.
"I'll keep mine and you keep yours, son of Jupiter" he snarled, standing and stalking away.
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Later, when Jason and the boy were crowned with matching laurel wreaths, he learned his name. Perseus Jackson, the son of Poseidon, the boy from his childhood.
Hi guys this was a prologue so its pretty short! The other chapters will be longer
I hope you enjoyed it, and also if you liked it please don't forget to leave a review
((also i just wanna say before the story continues all the information i get on Gladiators and Ancient Rome + Greece i get off the internet so if any of it is inaccurate you can let me know but i may not be able to change it for reasons involving the plot of the story))
Have a good day/night, thankyou for reading ! (¬‿¬)