The Colosseum
::Time Skip:: 1 Year Later
The crowd's leering eyes and jeers infuriated her and she used that to her advantage – fueling her magic power with anger. She stood in the middle of the circular area of the Colosseum; the marble structure styled after ancient architecture. She kicked up a dust tornado with a mindless flick of her foot and looked at her opponent. It was a pretty brunette with six-inch heels with straps that swirled around her legs up to her knees. She was dress in black shorts and a white T-shirt which completely threw off the whole heels style.
A cruel smile stretched her full lips; she was going to have fun ripping her apart. In a blink of an eye, she was behind the girl and was gearing up for a kick but was pushed back by a force. Oh? What curious technique. The girl had manifested a shield at the last second and had the magic particles surrounding it pulse outward, pushing her away.
This time she laughed, "You're interesting. I'll show you my magic since you showed me yours."
"Lady of the Maiden, Virgo," but instead of the celestial spirit appearing, she was equipped with a maid outfit and her hair tied in two high ponytails, "outfit," she finished. She ignored the renewed cheers.
The brunette took a step back, analyzing her. She hoped she survived; she liked her. It would make matches more exciting if she got to fight her again. She made the exact same move but at the last second dove underground and pulled the girl's legs down. Her yelp of surprise earned yet another round of chants. How disgusting.
She came above ground and cradled the brunette; her hand traveled slowly down the brunette's thigh, she leaned close to her ear, "Wicked heels," and snap her ankle.
Her shout of pain pleased her and the crowd, and she blasted her with yet another wave of magic. She stood up, leaning on her right leg and stared her down.
She let out a breath of disappointment, no good either, huh? She ended the match earlier than expected by running her hand through the girl's chest. She dropped her cooling body to the ground and walked off the field – ignoring the complaints of the bastards.
She had planned on letting the girl live but the look in her eyes had stopped her. They had sparkled with hidden tears and pleaded with her own. Kill me.
A figured leaned in the shadows, his muscles rippling as he stretched and joined her, "That was merciful of you, Heart-chan."
"There was nothing merciful about it. She was going to die of my hands anyhow; it just happened to be today." She answered smoothly at the question
"I would have liked a taste of her blood."
"Anyone who can't win their initiation battle isn't worth your time."
"I suppose your right," he sighed, "but you hardly ever let your opponents live!"
"That's the point," she entered the dimly light hallway
"Hey, how about you let me have some of your blood?"
Her heart picked up speed but she forced herself to remain at the same pace, "Drink it off your next opponent."
He swung in front of her, blocking her way, "Come on, Filia." A faint red shadow haunted his brown eyes, and she found her resolve crumbling, "No, Jace."
"Filia." He had taken ahold of her hands, and was now using his special ability – the damn puppy-dog eyes. She gave it another thought; she wanted to remember her life before arriving and the mysterious red scales that adorned her neck, but she also didn't want to. There was no chance of escaping any time soon and it would only torture her to know she had had a life.
"Okay."
Their clothes were discarded on the floor and they were on her bed. Their sweating figures were curled up together; their hands intertwined. He let go of her hand and played with her red hair. She snuggled closer to him. As much as she denied him, she still liked his touch very much.
She was going to have his bite mark on her left side of her neck for another two weeks. He always seemed to be more insistent whenever it began fading. It kept the others from her, not that she minded, but it also was a symbol of a level of intimacy she wasn't ready to fully commit to. She was frightened of letting herself go with him. He could be ripped from her and she didn't want to get hurt.
"Filia," he mumbled into her ear, "up for round two?"
She huffed and didn't answer. "Little filly," his hands made his way to her abdomen, "what's wrong?"
His hands assaulted her sides, tickling her until she was crying from laughter, "S-stop, Jay."
He squeezed her into a tight hug, "Smiling suits you much better." Than the stoic mask you always wear.
"Hey, Jay," she clutched his arms, "do you think we will ever get out?"
He was silent for a long time but ultimately answered with a sad note playing his baritone voice, "I would sure hope so. I'll buy you the grandest cottage in the land and we'll live together until we die of old age."
Instead of answering she turned her head and gave him a light peck, "When's your match?"
"I still have two hours left."
"Win."
He grinned at her, "Of course."
She stared at him – taking in his features. She did this every time he had a match, never knowing when it would be the last time she would see him. He had told her he had once had white hair, green eyes and tanned skin. She had scoffed at the idea at first, but Brandon, his childhood friend, had confirmed it. Slash had nodded too. Now Jace was the opposite – dark brown eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. She didn't want to think of the reason for the drastic change; it hurt.
"Who are you fighting?" She asked, shifting in bed to face him.
"They haven't told me."
"If you get Al," Filia murmured, "I'll kick your ass for taking my target."
His chest rumbled as he laughed, "It'll be my pleasure to fight you."
She smiled. That was what she appreciated about him, what drew her to him. He had treated her as an equal. She was not as powerful as him but he took her seriously. He had also been the first to approach her and guide her when she first arrived at the Colosseum. That's what they called it.
The Colosseum was the Underworld's favorite sport. She hadn't quite believed him when she first arrived, but after her first match she had believed him. The strange attire and creatures that howled with bloodlust had been more than enough to convince her. She was stuck in the Underworld without a clue as to who she had been except for the insignia on her hand; it was a pink flame looking-thing. She was rather fond of it – her own personal angel.
Filia stood in the shadows as Jace had previously done as she watched him walk out to the middle of the ring. The crowd was going wild; Jace was a favorite, not to mention one of the strongest fighters in the Colosseum. She admired his easy-going stance; he always could block out his emotions so well.
His grotesque scars on his back were in plain view today; he had been too lazy to put on a shirt so he stood in the center of the goggling crowd, cracking his neck, with nothing on but his baggy sweats.
Lucy still remembered the first time she had seen them. It had been the day Slash had lost his tongue and Brandon had almost lost an eye. She shuddered in fear and anger as she recalled how the masked man had held Slash's tongue in his greasy tongue and cut it out. Slash's animalistic and guttural sounds of immeasurable pain haunted her to this day. Brandon has never been able to forgive himself for it and Jace's face sported a new scar on his right cheek ever since.
She had come out unscathed solely because she had been a rookie and it would have decreased her value at the time. It was safe to say now that the more scars she acquired the more the bastards love her. She had none as severe as her friends, but her previous unmarred body was now crisscrossed with echoes of past battles.
The only one she was proud of was the slender nick in her right eyebrow that Jace had gotten her with his sword. It had been the first sparring match she had been able to land a blow on him.
She focused on the battle in front of her; Jace was battling it out against the Earl. The Earl was fairly competent as well and it would last a while so Filia sat down, bringing her knees up to her chest. Jace had reequipped and was wearing armor that could withstand the blue-haired devil's flames. Something about their magic always tugged at something in her mind but she never tried too hard to remember.
Jace had told her that when he drank from her he could seal memories for as long as his magic coursed through her and she let him. It was easier for her to accept her life at the Colosseum if she only had memories of being there. If she knew nothing of her past life, then there was nothing to be mourned. It only made sense.
Brandon sat down next to her, mimicking her sitting position, "Hey."
"Hey." She responded, taking her eyes off the battle to glance at him, "How did your battle go?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" He didn't look at her.
"I heard it was a young girl."
"Yeah, so what? I was thirteen when I was brought here." He snapped
She placed an arm around him, bringing him in closer. He was older than her, but she had grown to love him very much. He was hot-tempered and didn't know how to express his feelings properly but once someone got to know him, they'd be able to read him as clear as day.
"She was ten." He whispered, burying his head into his arms, "I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it."
"You did what you had to do."
Tremors shook his body and Filia changed her position so she could embrace him fully. She didn't have any words of comfort that could heal this emotional scar. It was a terrible thing to have done; no one should be forced to do such a thing. By this time, there was hardly anything that could be said to one another that could heal their wounds. All they had was each other.
"I did it quickly. She had loads of magic power. She would have been such an amazing mage, but I had to. She," his voice choked, "looked at me and said 'please.'"
Filia rubbed his back, encouraging him to go on, "The whipper, he didn't miss that. He was already headed down. I s-snapped her neck."
"Come on," Filia helped him up, briefly looking back at Jace who was in the midst of pounding the Earl's pride and joy – his face, "You need to rest."
Jace arrived a few minutes after Brandon had fallen asleep; he raised his eyebrow. Filia shook her head, her red tresses swinging side to side, and they made their way to her room.
"How was he?"
"Just as you'd expect to be after killing someone half his age."
"You'd think we'd know how far they would stoop but they surprise us every time." Jace said, his voice low for only her to hear
"I'll take care of him during the night," She replied. He bumped his forehead against hers, and smiled his gratitude, "Thanks, Filly."
"I have a first name, you know." She looked away, pouting.
He scratched his chin, "Hmm, what was it? L—"
"Lucy! It's Lucy!" She hit his chest, pretending to be angry.
"You only like to be called Lucy when we're," his eyes roamed her body, teasing her, "intimate."
Her eyes widen, "That's not the only time, stupid!"
He laughed and gave her a kiss, "Good night."
"It's only seven in the evening, idiot!" She screamed after him as he walked to his own room, still burning from embarrassment.
She hadn't asked him about the outcome; it was obvious. The Earl had fallen. Jace hadn't killed him though. The curtains from the balcony had hung yellow. Yellow meant that neither warrior was allowed to kill the other. If they had been red, then one would have died. Yellow only hung for favorites and the top of the warriors. Filia, however, was still a red. She was loved but she yet had to defeat one of the top ten and reach eighteen months of servitude.
All three of her friends – Slash, Brandon, and Jace – were in the clear. There was still a danger of pulling a red curtain match; the whims of the Emperor were unpredictable. This was not an ideal life by a long shot, but it was a life. As long as she had all three of them with her, she would be fine.
Read on for Chapter 9 PT. 2: Sting's Entrance
