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"I will not be triumphed over."

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The following evening, Dream stood in a large, open room beneath the arena. Small windows, lined with steel bars allowed the soft evening light to trickle in like grains of sand.

The gladiator heaved in another deep breath as he was doused with cold water. Completely drenched, he ran his hands over his face, flicking his hair out of his eyes as another bucket of cold water raced along his skin.

The cold, biting edge of the water was enough to raise goosebumps along his exposed flesh, and he shivered as two pairs of hands with sponges scrubbed at his body. Soap bubbles travelled along the grooves of his muscles, collecting at his feet like a bunch of opalescent pearls.

"You are filthy, you know." One of the servants that was washing the gladiator said, running her sponge along the indentations on his abdomen.

Dream raised an eyebrow. "I'm a gladiator. This is the first bath I've had in almost a year."

The servant hummed flippantly at his answer, continuing to scrub the sponge she was using along the taut muscles of his ribs.

Dream chuckled mockingly, placing a steady hand on the servants shoulder. "Considering you've been cleaning the same few spots for the past five minutes, I'd say that I'm probably clean enough."

The servants cheeks flared red in embarrassment as she stepped back, eyes averted. The other servant, a slightly older lady with a kind demeanour, popped open a bottle of freshly scented oil.

"What is that?" He asked, watching as the lady took an appreciative smell of the liquid.

"Oils, dear," She told him, offering the bottle for him to smell. "It's good for the skin and makes you smell good."

The gladiator grimaced at first, as the smell was strong and unfamiliar to his nose. However, it didn't smell bad, and he realised that he had been surrounded by dirt and blood and filth for so long that his senses were unsure of this new smell.

"Oh... that smells pretty good." Dream murmured as the lady poured some into her hands, lathering.

She ran her oiled hands along the gladiators arms, shoulders, chest, neck, back, torso and legs. She stepped away, placing the bottle back into her basket and pulled out a peculiar looking tool with a softly curved blade.

"What the fuck is that?" Dream took a step back, eyes wide. "Am I about to get shanked?"

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "No. This is called a strigil and it is used to scrape off the excess oil. It can also be used to scrape off any remaining dirt and perspiration."

"Oh." Was all Dream said as the lady got to work, running the dull metal instrument along his body, collecting the left over oil.

A few moments later, she handed the strigil back to the other servant, and stepped back, handing the gladiator a bath towel. Dream wrapped it around his waist as she spoke again.

"How do you feel?" She asked kindly, gesturing to the glistening and gleaming state of Dream's freshly scrubbed body.

Dream sniffed. "I smell like a rose garden."

"Better than smelling like a gladiator dungeon."

"True."

The lady handed Dream another tool, which he took and examined thoughtfully.

She smiled. "It's a comb."

"A what?"

"A comb. To brush your hair."

Dream eyed the comb skeptically, holding it up to his head and running it through his hair. He winced as it caught on a knot.

The lady sighed. "Give me that."

She took the comb, then turned to the other younger servant, who had been watching painfully from a few feet away.

"Leave us." The lady ordered.

The younger servant startled. "Leave? But—!"

"No buts," The older woman chimed, sounding very much like a stern mother. "Leave."

Begrudgingly, the younger servant turned on her heel, exiting the room with a slam of the heavy wooden door. The remaining woman turned to Dream, twirling the comb in her hand.

"Pass me that stool." She pointed to across the room where a small wooden crate sat dormant in the corner.

Dream fetched it for her, and she sat on it. She then pointed to the slightly damp floor at her feet, but stopped herself. She reached into her basket of supplies, pulling out another plush bathing towel, laying it across the stones in front of her. She then pat the towel, an indication for the gladiator to take a seat.

Dream did so, lowering himself to the ground before the woman, back to her, sitting cross-legged on top of the towel. He played with the hem of the towel that was around his waist as the woman began to brush his hair.

"My goodness, you need a haircut." The woman said, running the comb gently through the gladiators clean hair.

Dream hummed. "I like my hair this length."

"It is nice, but isn't it hard to maintain when you're fighting?"

"Not really," Dream said. "I just tie it back and tuck it beneath the strap of my mask."

The woman began work detangling a particularly stubborn knot in the gladiators hair. "Why do you wear a mask?"

"To hide my identity, I suppose."

"But you're not hiding your identity from me," The woman said. "Why not just keep it that way? Why wear a mask in the ring, when I presume it'd be a lot easier to fight without one?"

Dream shrugged. "I guess I just don't want people to look at my face..."

The woman brushed the comb gently through the gladiators hair, and he keened into the unfamiliar but soft touch.

"It's not just about your identity, is it?" The woman pressed, voice quiet. "You don't want people seeing your scars. Is that it?"

Dream laughed spitefully, almost bitterly. "My scars make me feel weak. I don't want anyone seeing me weak."

The woman didn't reply immediately. Instead, she placed the comb on her thigh, guiding the gladiator by the shoulders, turning him around were he sat. Now, cross-legged and looking up like a small child, Dream faced the woman. She then picked up the comb, and began carefully brushing the hair away from his eyes.

Dream's face was riddled by his past. Long, abrasive scars ran down the length of his face, over his eye like a tigers stripe, vertical lines of charred skin decorating his freckled flesh.

He closed his eyes sleepily as the woman smoothed stray hairs out of his eyes, before putting the comb away, and placing a hand on top of his head.

"You are so incredibly brave, Dream," The woman whispered. "Look at you. Your face tells a story of triumph and survival. You are here today because of your bravery and your courage, and you do not need to hide your scars for people to see that."

Dream opened his eyes, locking his green ones with her brown ones. In that moment, tears were a threatening presence behind his eyes. In that moment, he was reminded of his mother.

"I have to wear my mask. It's... apart of me." Dream choked up, and the woman, with her palm still pressed to the top of his head, ran her thumb along the creases in his forehead.

"Of course. But do remember, my boy, you don't have to hide your scars and someday, you will meet someone who helps you realise that."

With that, the woman helped Dream to his feet, then placed the comb back into her basket. She handed Dream his mask, which he stared at for a few moments. However, the sound of the door opening urged him to slip it onto his face, buckling it up.

A man entered the bathing room, closing the door gently behind him. He had a neatly folded bundle tucked under his arm and he strode across the room, handing the bundle to the woman.

"Perfect timing, my love." The woman pat the man fondly on the cheek, before turning to Dream and holding out the bundle.

Dream took it, unfolding it. "What is this?"

"Your uniform," the man said, hands crossed over his chest. "If you are to be serving the emperor, you must wear this uniform."

"Oh... thank you." Dream muttered, allowing the woman to help him change into the uniform.

After a few minutes of fidgeting and tampering, the woman stepped back, admiring the gladiator with a victorious grin.

"You look so handsome," she cooed, nudging the man. "Don't you agree, Phil?"

The man stroked his chin, nodded. "He does look a lot better than he did. Well done, Kristin."

The woman, Kristin, beamed, reaching up to pat Dream's cheek, moving her hand around the mask. "Good luck, Dream. I know you'll do great."

Dream bowed respectfully. "Thank you, miss. I... appreciate your help this evening."

Kristin smiled. "No problem, dear. Now, let's take you upstairs. We don't want you to be late to meet the emperor."

Phil scoffed. "The emperor. What a load of pompous bull—"

"—No swearing in front of the boy, Phil. How many times have we been over this?" Kristin took hold of her basket, leading both Dream and Phil out of the bathing room.

Phil grumbled. "He's not a boy, my love, look at the size of him!"

Dream smiled beneath his mask as Kristin continued, saying: "We do not want him swearing like a certain someone back home, do we?"

Phil laughed. "Leave Tommy alone, he's just a kid."

"A kid with a swear word for every situation that life throws at him, obviously." Kristin uttered as the trio ascended the steps, walking down narrow halls, before finally being greeted by the slowly lowering sun.

Immediately, Dream was flanked by two guards, who seized his biceps and led him towards Schlatt. Kristin and Phil followed, looking concerned.

Schlatt stood before a litter, smiling. "You certainly clean up nicely."

Dream huffed. "I know."

Schlatt motioned towards the litter, saying: "You will be taken to the emperor's villa in this. No stops, no shortcuts. You will arrive by sundown and get to work immediately. You step out of line once, you're sent back here. Do you understand?"

Stiffly, Dream nodded, scowling at Schlatt from beneath his mask.

Schlatt scanned Dream with eyes shaded with an unknown emotion. He sighed. "Good luck, Nightmare. Don't disappoint me."

"Have I ever disappointed you?" Dream quipped, skulking towards the litter.

"Yes," Schlatt replied. "You lost—"

"Just... shut up," Dream made himself comfortable in the litter. "It was a rhetorical question."

Schlatt shook his head, smacking Dream harshly on the shoulder as a bid farewell. He then motioned for the servants carrying the litter to begin their journey.

"Oh! Wait a moment, please." Kristin hurried up to the side of the litter as it was being lifted from the ground.

Schlatt allowed her to do this, instead walking away and disappearing back into the shadowy depths of the arenas underground.

Kristin gripped the side of the litter. "Please be safe, Dream. And if you ever need me, I have a stall in the market where you can find me. Okay?"

Dream nodded, and Kristin gave him a wary, almost sad smile, patting him gently on the hand. She then stepped away from the litter, giving the gladiator inside a small wave.

"Stay out of trouble." Was her parting message as the litter began to move away, heading through the front gates of the arena.

"I'll try!" Was Dream's response as Kristin and Phil vanished from sight, leaving the gladiator to dwell in his own thoughts as the litter moved towards its final destination: the emperors villa.

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Hey homies, this is an authors note!

Sorry if this chapter was a bit slower, I just wanted to establish the bond between the green boy and mumza and dadza <3

This chapters question/statement: how are you?

Until next time,

Blue :)