Queen of the Underworld

Chapter 11: A Room of One's Own

"What is this?" Proserpina asked as she stood at the door of a dark cell. A single torch on the stone wall illuminated the small chamber. The floors were dirt and the furniture of the room comprised of a single pallet.

"It is yours," Spartacus replied as he walked further into the cell. He outstretched his arms and seemed to dwarf the tiny space around him.

"Mine? But -"

"If you want to be a gladiator, you must train, eat, live like a gladiator," he said sternly. "From now forth, you sleep here in the ludus. I know it is not much, but it is your own."

"Gratitude, Spartacus," Proserpina said, not quite able to express her thanks as she, too, walked into the room. "Never have I had anything of my own before. It is a pleasant feeling."

The man only nodded his head in response.

"How did you do it?" she asked.

"Dominus and I came to an understanding," Spartacus told her. He put a hand up before she could speak. "But think not of it." He pointed at a small basin of water in the corner. "So you can bathe," he explained. He then motioned to the pallet. "Your bed." Lastly, he grabbed the door and closed it, trapping them both in the small cell. He stood at the entryway and stared out the, barred window. "Your stars," he said.

Proserpina took a step forward so she could stand beside the gladiator and looked out the window to the night sky. Almost, it seemed as though she was at peace, but the feeling was short lived.

"Pleasant dreams," Spartacus said as he put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I believe a test is in your future."

-X-x-X-

"UP! You will sleep when you prove yourself a man!"

The girl jumped from her bed as she was abruptly woken. There, in the open doorway, stood a tall figure, but she could not place who it was. Outside, it was still dark, the early morning sun not yet risen, and the person was but a shadow against the sky.

"Out on the sand," the man commanded, and Proserpina realized it was Doctore who was speaking.

She followed his retreating form onto the training field, still trying to fully wake. At the center of the enclosure, the man stopped and stood in front of Proserpina. "What is beneath your feet?" he asked.

The girl looked down and dug her bare toes into the soft, cool earth, not knowing how to respond.

"Answer me!"

"Sand?" Proserpina said, her voice rough from lack of use. Doctore stood silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Spartacus?" he called.

Proserpina saw the vague outline of the champion step forward. His footsteps made a heavy sound on the sand as he walked. "Sacred ground, Doctore," he said, "watered with the tears of blood."

"Your tears," Doctore said, pointing his whip at the girl. "Your blood. Your pathetic life, forged into something of worth." He walked closer towards the Amazon. "Tell me, Proserpina, you have bled, but have you wept?"

"No, Doctore," she responded.

"Have no doubt that you soon will," he told her. "As a gladiator, you will be burned, beaten, brought to your knees in pain, and more than once you will beg for death." The man walked around Proserpina, dragging a sword along with him, making a circle in the sand that orbited the girl. "But death will come soon enough," Doctore continued. "And when it does, you must rage against it so that it trembles upon meeting you. For a gladiator does not fear death! He embraces it. He caresses it. He fucks it."

The girls eyes looked towards Spartacus, but neither of the gladiators saw for the lack of light.

"Forget everything you have learned outside these walls, for that is the world of men. We are more. This is the world of gladiators!" Doctore plunged the point of the sword into the sand before the girl. "Proserpina, get in position." He walked a few paces out of the way, so that the Amazon could barely see where he went. "Spartacus, do not go easy on her, for in the arena, they will not."

Proserpina pulled the sword from the ground as another was thrown at her feet. She picked that one up as well and quickly got into the position.

"Begin!" Doctore called.

Under the cloak of darkness, the Amazon could not see Spartacus, but she could hear as he quickly approached her. He was upon her almost instantly, and she raised her sword to meet his own. The clash of wood echoed into the empty dawn as he struck again, his efforts blocked once more.

Proserpina kicked his chest, pushing him away so that she could regain her position just in time for the champion to advance upon her again. He jabbed his weapon towards her stomach, but she swiftly evaded it. She brought her own sword over her head and down on Spartacus, but it met his shield. The Amazon felt the force of the impact through her whole arm as she shuffled back a few paces. She meant to keep him close, so that she could see him as he moved, but she also had to follow her instructions. Attack and retreat.

This time, Proserpina took the offensive and lunged towards the man, swiping her sword low around his knees. Spartacus raised his leg to step over the weapon and, as he did, brought his shield up hard, slamming it into her jaw.

Proserpina's body rose in the air then fell with a bitter thud to the sand. As she laid on her back, she felt her mouth fill with blood so she slowly turned her head and spat it on the ground. When she opened her eyes, Spartacus was above her, sword pointed down towards her neck.

"You are dead, Proserpina," she heard Doctore say as she continued staring into the champion's eyes. "Sent back to the Underworld where you belong."

Thank you for the reviews! They are very encouraging! Everybody must be excited for the new season of Spartacus!