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"I had rather be first in a village than second at Rome."

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[Memories are in italics!]

[violence, blood]

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"Let the final games commence!"

Those five words sent Dream into a spiral; a mirror image of what he had trained to be, who he was meant to be: the best gladiator in all of Italia.

The Blood God parried his opponents attacks, countering with his axe, gritting his teeth as he and Dream clashed, moving around the arena.

Dream relished in the sound of the crowd cheering him on. The yells and screams of adoration as he stabbed forward, his blade slicing a sickening gash across the Blood God's ribs.

His movements were like that of the ocean waves: fluid and languid as he swung his sword and slashed through the air, before receding into an abyss of calculation, then striking again like the tide.

Being trained as a gladiator in Rome, he was taught anger, mercilessness and strength.

But before Rome, before his time as a captive fighter, he was trained by his father, being taught patience, precision and knowledge.

"You can never show anyone weakness... especially your opponents," Dream's father said, lunging at his preteen son. "You must display confidence and toughness of spirit."

"Toughness of spirit?" A young Dream dodged his fathers blade, rolling across the ground. "How is that going to help me win a fight?"

As the preteen got up, he was immediately struck down, his father striking the handle of his sword into Dream's upper back. "To be physically tough, you must be mentally tough. If your opponent knocks you down, get up."

The Blood God landed a heavy blow onto Dream's stomach, sending the blond gladiator reeling and toppling back onto the warm sand. Dream could feel how bruised his stomach was going to be as he rolled onto his front, missing his opponents second swing as the axe slammed into the ground.

Gritting his teeth and pushing aside his pain, Dream forward-rolled onto his feet, before spinning around and kicking the Blood God right in the face. The man grunted and stepped back a slight bit, blood spurting from his nose and dribbling down his face.

He pressed two fingers above his upper lip, pulling them back to stare at the collected blood. Dream watched in hidden horror as his opponent let the blood drip onto his lips, before running a tongue along them, licking the crimson off of his mouth. He wiped the rest away with the back of his hand and sent Dream an animalistic grin.

Dream grimaced. Shit.

"Watch your rhythm, son," Dream's father noted. "A predictable pattern is anathema to sword fighting... you can't let your opponent know your next move."

Dream nodded, gripping his sword tighter. He then feigned to the right, before going left, managing to strike his father across the shoulder with a hard smack.

His father beamed. "Yes! Just like that; do it again, son!"

Dream feigned to the right as the Blood God got ready to attack. The pink haired gladiator then charged to the right, just as Dream spun left, managing to get behind the Blood God and slice down his back; his sword clanking against the armour, leaving a visible dent.

The Blood God cursed as the crowd roared around them.

Dream charged again. This time, he went to strike high, forcing the other man to lift his axe to block, but the hit didn't come. Instead, Dream moved his sword low, snapping his blade into the Blood Gods thighs, biting into the flesh.

The Blood God, now truly pissed off, yanked his leg away from Dream's sword, leaving his wound to spit red into the golden sand. He then charged at the blond gladiator with almost inhuman agility.

"You want your opponent to get close enough so you can hit them, but you don't want them close enough to hit you."

Preteen Dream looked confusedly at his father. "That doesn't make sense. How can I get close enough to someone and hit them, without them hitting me back?"

His father smiled, gently tapping the steel point of his sword into Dream's shoulder. "Timing, son. Count in your head. Count their movement, their steps; count how long it takes for them to realise that you've dodged their blow."

Dream counted down as the Blood God ran full speed at him.

One step, two steps, three steps, four s— now.

Dream ducked under the mighty swing of the axe. Popping up at exactly the right moment to drive his sword up. This caused the axe to go flying out of the Blood Gods hands, hurtling through the air like a frisbee.

Sweeping the Blood Gods legs from under him, Dream watched his opponent fall to the ground, panting loudly. The pink haired gladiators leg and side ran slick with blood, and his breaths were laboured. His face, covered in both war paint and blood, contorted in pain and disbelief as Dream towered over him.

"Now finish it," Dream's dad watched his son carefully, speaking in a serious tone. "Finish your battle, and you have won."

Dream huffed angrily, chest heaving and aching from taking too many deep breaths. Beneath his foot, he pressed a shivering rabbit to the ground, holding it there without squishing it.

The tip of his sword pricked delicately at the rabbits coarse brown fur, perched dangerously close to its throat.

"That's it, son. Now you've caught it, kill it," Dream's father urged. "Cut its head off and kill it."

Dream sighed, lifting his sword ready to slash. But, upon looking at the rabbit, trembling and quivering, the boy felt tears begin to well behind his eyes. His green eyes stung and began to blur; the warmth of his tears laying comfortably along his waterline.

"I-I can't do it, dad." Dream hiccuped.

"Finish the job, son."

Dream had his foot on the Blood Gods chest, stomping him into the sandy ground. The Blood Gods arms lay helplessly at his sides, as though itching to grab something... anything.

Dream stood straight, beckoned on by the cheering and jeering of the Roman crowd. He ran the tip of his sword along the base of his fallen opponents throat. He watched a pearl of blood creep down the Blood Gods face, rolling down his cheek before splatting into the sand.

The blond gladiator looked at that small red spot in the sand; a reddened blemish amongst the soft, golden granules of the colosseum.

A small droplet of blood appeared on the rabbits neck, barely the size of a grain of rice. But Dream saw it, and watched it run through the grooves in its fur. It slipped off of the rabbit, and landed on the short, dry ground, catching on the tip of a brown blade of grass.

"Kill the rabbit, Dream." His father spoke.

Then, a hand came to rest on the young boys shoulder. Dream turned his head, facing his mother, who smiled kindly at him.

"It's okay to let the rabbit go," his mother said, her voice as soft. "That rabbit doesn't deserve to die just for our amusement."

Gently, his mother guided him away from the rabbit, lifting his foot away. The creature leaped to its feet, scattering into the woodlands beyond.

"It's okay to show mercy," his mother gestured to where the rabbit had disappeared. "Just because you show sympathy, or show mercy, doesn't make you any less tough."

Dream scanned the tree line, pressing his back into his mother's front and leaning his head against her shoulder. He then looked to his father, who frowned and shook his head.

His mother placed a small kiss on the top of his head, murmuring: "Always follow your heart. Don't listen to what others want of you, okay? If someone wants you to kill a rabbit, but you don't want to kill the rabbit, don't kill it."

"But... but what if I have too?" Dream asked, voice thick with sadness as he prayed desperately that the tears would not fall from his eyes.

"You don't have to do anything. There is always a choice," his mother hugged him to her chest. "And I know, Dream, that you would always choose the right thing."

His mother's words were now echoing around his head. Words about choices and doing what's right. He gritted his teeth. Its always about choices and consequences, isn't it?

The masked gladiator turned his face upwards to lock eyes with the emperor, who watched on with his hand over his mouth in anticipation. Dream saw the fear and worry in the royals eyes, and that feeling of betrayal pulsed from the emperor to the gladiator, beating through the air like sound waves.

Be the man that Rome always wanted him to be? The ruthless, merciless, gods-slaying Nightmare?

Be the man his father always wanted him to be? A man who knew how to fight, and could actually finish the fight?

Or be the man his mother always wanted him to be? A man who could listen to his heart; who could listen to what was right.

And this...

His eyes wavered on the emperors solemn features as he gripped his weapon, pointing it threateningly at the wounded Blood God.

...this was not right.

Dream chose to ignore the crowd as he took a deep breath. He threw down his sword and took a valiant step back, dropping his arms and balling his fists at his side.

The crowd booed and cussed, but the blond gladiator didn't care. He stayed where he was, eyes screwed shut, before opening them to find the emperor on his feet.

George clutched the edge of the balcony, peering down at the pair of gladiators. They were bloodied and panting like feral dogs, and the Blood God remained grounded, staining the sand around him red.

Dream looked up at him.

George looked back.

"I don't care about him, and I never will. He is nothing to me."

Dream grimaced, thinking to himself: he didn't actually mean that.

"I don't care about him, and I never will."

Dream shook his head as his brain throbbed in pain. The combination of his wicked thoughts and the roar of the crowd around him sent his conscious spiralling into fever.

He looked up at George again; dressed in his blues and whites, jewels and golds.

He looked absolutely regal.

He looked perfect.

"He is nothing to me."

Dream's vision blurred and he felt himself, as if in slow motion, begin to fall backwards.

The Blood God had reached for his opponents sword, snatching it from the ground and clambering to his feet, before slamming it into Dream's face.

The impact rattled Dream's brain within his skull, forcing the gladiator into an altering state of consciousness where he felt himself falling, like a feather, and hitting the ground.

The force of the Blood Gods blow also meant that Dream's mask shattered.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, Dream felt the cool air hit his scarred face. He blinked against the harsh light, then seeing his opponent drive his own goddamn sword into his chest.

Everything went black before he even realised what was going on.

And thank the gods he didn't feel the pain.

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Hey homies, this is an authors note!

Omfg this chapter took me unnecessarily long to write.

This chapters question/statement: favourite minecraft wood?

(The only right answer to this is dark oak lmao— if you say acacia... 🤢)

Until next time,

Blue :)