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"Fear is proof of a degenerate mind."

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—•—

The sun was yet to set by the time George and Karl arrived at the venue for the games. The men carrying the litter placed it carefully on the ground, allowing the emperor and his companion to step out into the busy streets of Rome.

Two soldiers flanked the two immaculately dressed men as they walked through the back entrance of the arena, avoiding the growing crowds of excitable plebeians.

"You do know how to do this, don't you?" Karl asked genuinely as the two men ascended a cobbled flight of stairs, into the box where they would be sitting.

It was draped with silks and sheets of blue and white, the dusty ground covered in a softly sewn rug, which sat below two golden chairs, facing the arena.

"Of course I do," George replied, taking a seat in one of the throne-like chairs. "I announce the gladiators who are fighting, they say their little chant, I commence the fighting, they fight, I decide whether they live or die."

Karl nodded, raising his eyebrows in impressed recognition. "Well done."

George held out a thumbs up, then moved it to the side and then finally downwards. "And I do the gestures like this, yeah?"

Karl smiled, mirroring George's actions. "That's exactly right, domine."

Just then, a soldier walked into the box, bowing as he handed George a scroll of browning parchment. On the paper, George discovered as he unrolled it, were the names of the gladiators which were set to fight.

"Any recognisable names?" Karl asked, leaning over the armrest of his seat to look over George's shoulder.

George's dark eyes skimmed down the page, before he muttered: "Nightmare."

"Nightmare?" Karl wiggled his eyebrows, which George chose to ignore. "He's very good..."

"Yes, his fighting style is very good."

"...looking," Karl laughed and, upon catching a glimpse of George's disapproving scowl, said: "What? He is!"

"He literally wears a mask," George stated matter-of-factly. "You can't tell if he's attractive or not."

"He has a hot voice."

"So? You thought that dude from the market had a hot voice, and when you rounded the corner, who was it?"

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that—!"

"—It was an old man, Karl."

"Raspy voices are hot!" Karl groaned, slouching in his chair.

George chuckled. "They are... just not on sixty year old men."

Karl muttered bitterly under his breath, before saying slightly louder: "Nightmare does have nice abs."

George pondered this for a moment, eyes looking over the vast, sandy expanse of the arena below the box. He could see the stands slowly starting to fill, of men and women and children, all eager to watch a violent show of bloodshed.

"You're meant to agree with me, George," Karl interrupted George's thinking. "Not stare blankly into the air."

George scoffed. "Fine. His abs are nice. Are you happy?"

Karl bit his bottom lip, stifling a laugh as the stands continued to fill, and the blistering sun began to cool, ever so slightly, and darken with the shadow of the night.

"Emperor." The same guard who had delivered the scroll of gladiator names appeared at the top of the steps, and George turned his head, watching as the guard bowed.

"Yes?"

"It is time for you to begin the games." The guard said, gesturing with a large hand to the packed arena.

"Right, of course. Thank you." George dismissed the guard, before taking a deep breath.

Karl sent him an encouraging smile as the emperor got to his feet, immediately causing a wave of silence to crash over the audience. He approached the bannister of the box, every pair of eyes in the arena on him as he cleared his throat.

"People of Rome," he began. "Welcome to this evenings games, in honour of my recent crowning as your emperor."

A few cheers rang out through the crowd as George composed himself, steadying his quivering nerves with a slow inhale.

"Are we ready to see the best of Romes fighters?" George asked the crowd, who yelled and hollered in reply, excited.

He chuckled. "Then, let the games commence!"

At this, several large horns sounded, reverberating around the brick arena, sending deep sound waves through the toga-clad audience. Men and women cheered in their seats, clapping as children jumped around with exhilarating energy, anxious for the games to begin.

"Our first contenders today!" George shouted over the din. "The Knight of Britannia, fighting the Thracian Thrasher!"

—•—

Dream listened from below the arena as the emperor announced the first fight and, having observed both men listed to fight only a few moments prior, he came to the conclusion that, although they would put on a good show, neither of them would have the guts to kill the other.

The blond gladiator sat perched on the edge of a stone slab, the closest thing to furniture in the cell that he was currently waiting in. His ankle, just like in his home cell, was chained and his weapon was propped up against the wall, only a taunting few metres away.

"You look nervous."

Dream turned his head to the side, locking eyes with the man he fought that morning. The new fighter sat cross-legged on the ground, back to the wall. He held a piece of straw in his hands, fidgeting with it as he spoke.

"I'm not nervous." Dream replied simply, returning his gaze to the floor at his feet.

The new gladiator raised his eyebrows. "How are you not nervous?"

"I've been doing this for years," Dream responded coldly. "You get used to it, kid."

"I've only been doing this for a few months," the new gladiator admitted. "And my first fight is up next."

Dream let his gaze return to the gladiator fidgeting on the floor. Curious, he asked: "Who are you fighting?"

The new gladiator shrugged. "Some called The Warden? I think?"

Dream tsked. "That's Sam. He's pretty good. Quite an experienced fighter."

"Do you..." the new gladiator hesitated. "Do you think I stand a chance?"

Dream regarded the young man with slight interest, flicking his green eyes over the toned recruit. "Possibly."

The new gladiator breathed a sigh of relief, dropping the piece of straw he was bending. "That's good enough for me."

Dream hummed. "What's your name, kid?"

"Sapnap."

Dream reached out his hand, clasping Sapnap's. "I'm Dream."

"Dream?" Sapnap narrowed his eyes in calculation. "As in... Nightmare?"

Dream nodded, laughing at Sapnap's expression of utter surprise.

"You're Nightmare? As in the best, most formidable gladiator in Italia, Nightmare?"

"Uh," Dream scratched the back of his neck. "Yes?"

"I can't believe... wow. You're fighting techniques are revolutionary!" Sapnap eagerly continued. "You've been unbeaten for the past three years!"

Dream shrugged modestly. "Thank you."

"Who are you fighting today?"

"I'm not sure," Dream admitted. "The top fighters don't find out until we get in the ring."

"Oh." Sapnap clicked his tongue, picking up another piece of straw to twist around in his hands. He looked through the bars of the cell, out into the narrow, low-ceilinged corridor.

He chuckled. "How did they fit you in here?"

Dream exhaled loudly through his nose; a gesture of adequate amusement. "Let's just say I hit my head numerous times."

As he said that, the crowd got louder and louder, cheering and booing as the sound of metal clashing pierced through the thick stone walls of Dream and Sapnap's cell.

Then, like the turn of the tide, the noise ceased, replaced by the echoing scrape of a chair and the poised clearing of ones throat.

"Does the Thrasher deserve death?" The emperor called into the crowd. "Or should he yield to the Knight?"

The crowd erupted into a chaotic chorus of yells and shouts, whistles and claps as, by the sound of it, the emperor turned his thumb downwards. A manly shout of pain, of anguish, plagued the arena as a sharp thud was heard, followed by silence, and then the eruption of riotous cheers.

"It sounds as though the new emperor is just as bloodthirsty as his father." Sapnap murmured solemnly as a guard appeared, pulling open the cell door.

"Sapnap, you're up."

Sapnap teetered to his feet, stretching the aches out of his muscles as he was handed a large, shining axe. Slipping on a polished black chest plate, he turned to face Dream.

"Good luck," the more experienced gladiator said. "I hope Hercules bestows great strength upon you."

"And to you as well, my friend." Sapnap nodded respectfully, before slipping down the narrow corridor, disappearing with a clank of armour.

Dream waited with bated breath for the rest of the evening, eyes stuck on the same spot of hay-riddled floor. A few hours later, a guard approached the door cautiously. Dream looked up, face remaining emotionless.

"Nightmare, it is your time."

Dream got to his feet, allowing the guard to unchain his leg and hand him his blade. He tossed it a bit, weighing it in his hands with a small, victorious smile. The blade was familiar and strong in his hands, and felt as though it pulsed with raw power; mighty and unrelenting, the power of Jupiter.

The guard handed Dream his mask, walking him at spear-point down the hall and up a flight of crumbling steps, into a dark room. The guard shoved the gladiator inside, locking the door promptly after him, and Dream just rolled his eyes.

The only snippets of light came from the gaps in the large, lever-controlled door in front of him. Soon, that would be pulled away to reveal the best gladiator in all of Italia.

Him.

Taking a deep, soothing breath, Dream pushed the mask onto his face, seeing through small slits. He pulled against the leather strap that secured his shoulder armour in place, tightening the buckle, before adjusting the shield he had strapped to his left arm.

"And now, what you have all been waiting for!" Dream's ears picked up the slightly muffled voice of the emperor. "Our final fight of the day!"

The crowd roared like a hungry lion; deep and cavernous, shaking the entirety of Rome with a single, angry boom.

"First to enter, the strongest, most successful gladiator in all of Italia, with a three year winning streak," The emperor must have signalled for the opening of the door, as ever so slowly, light began to trickle into the room. "Welcome, Nightmare!"

The door had now opened, leaving Dream to step out onto the sandy floor of the arena. The sky was dark, littered with burning white stars and a moon, one phase away from being full. The arena was lit by giant torches, burning hot around the edge of the ring.

The crowd cheered and jeered, both for and against the gladiator, who bowed to the audience, and stepped into the middle of the arena, dragging the point of his sword through the golden sand.

"And his competitor, from the barbarian tribes of Gaul," The Emperor flicked a hand, and the opposite gate began to creak open. "Welcome, The Blood God!"

If it wasn't for the mask, Dream's expression of shock would have been visible for half of Rome to see. His green eyes widened behind his mask, and his usually relaxed demeanour changed in an instant.

A tall, lean man emerged from the darkness, dressed in battered black armour and draped in the skin of a boar. The mans head was dressed inside the boars mouth: it's large snout and tusks sitting on the top of the mans head.

Under the watchful gaze of the emperor, the man shed the boar cape, letting it drop to the ground with a dull thump. This revealed long, pinkish hair, tied in some places into braids, threaded with beads of silver and gold.

His face was painted as well, like the Celtic warrior he was: black kohl smudged across both of his eyes; a stripe of red covered his right eye, running over the kohl and down the mans cheek, simulating a splash of blood. A golden ring hung from the mans nose, a septum piercing that glinted in the flickering flames only a few feet above his head.

The Blood God looked dangerous.

The opposing man dragged a large, bloodstained axe behind him, leaving a deep line in the sandy dirt. His bare arms and torso were also covered in jagged red lines, made to look like claw marks, as though he had fought a Sphinx.

The Blood God approached the centre of the arena, and the two men bowed at each other, before turning to look up into the box where the Emperor was standing.

"We, who are about to die, salute you!" The Blood God shouted, raising his axe at the emperor.

"We, who are about to die, salute you." Dream repeated, quieter than The Blood God. He raised his sword, directing the very tip into the middle of the emperors chest.

And through the slits in the mask, Dream finally caught a good look at the emperor; a better view then what he saw at the gladiator viewing only an hour prior.

And the emperor, in all of his reigning glory, regarded the gladiator with dark, calculating eyes. "Let the final game commence!"

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Hey homies, this is an authors note!

• Hercules - the god of strength

• Jupiter - the god of all gods

Sapnap <3

That's it lol. That's the authors note.

Until next time,

Blue :)