Chapter Text
Linara tugs on the collar around her neck, the pain of humiliation searing hot in her gut. She sits on a smaller seat next to the king- the King of Assholes, she thinks of him- as he claps along with the rest of the audience. The colosseum stands tall and wide, the ground far below the balcony she and the king sit upon. Its covered in blood soaked sand, forming clumps of it in various areas. They don't clean the fighting ring often, if at all. She's never seen it cleaned, and she's been here for nearly a month.
Every time she does come, however, the stands are always jam packed full with audience members from all classes in the city. Poor, rich, you name it- you'd find some of those people mixed in with the rest. The king sits above them all along with a few nobles of his choice, as well as Linara currently. Ever since she, Zayne and Sylus had landed in this wretched place, he's kept her on a literal leash. The moment he'd set eyes on her on that day a month ago, he'd looked rather hungry, making her skin crawl.
“I'm keeping this one,” he’d said, guards forcing her, Zayne and Sylus to their knees. None of them could use their Evols- the area suppressed them, rendered them useless. And while she and Sylus are amazing fighters- she knows Zayne is as well- the sheer number of guards proved to be too much. They'd gotten through what had to have been ten waves before they'd been subdued. As soon as they were, the king walked in, grabbing her chin. Sylus snarled nearby, reminding Linara faintly of an angry dragon. She couldn't see or hear Zayne, but she could imagine the deathly cold glare he'd locked on the king. “Send the other two to the colosseum- they'll pay for their transgressions through blood.”
They'd been quickly separated after that. Linara hasn't seen either of them since then- a whole month without knowing if they're okay… or if they're even alive.
She shakes her head, allowing herself to scoff. Of course they're alright. Sylus is a man of immense power and strength even without his Evol- he's probably thriving in these games, if she's being honest with herself. And Zayne is a capable man in his own rite; unlike Sylus, however, his role as a doctor is most likely making this entire scenario difficult for him. He’s supposed to save lives- not take them. And in such brutal ways, too.
Her heart aches for Zayne. He’s the one she’s most worried about. He already has nightmares from his time as a field medic. She can't imagine how bad things will get after this.
“I think you're going to like this fight, doll,” the king says. He yanks on her leash, making her head fly in his direction. She glares at him, and he smirks back, utterly full of himself. He loves her attention on him as well, no matter how deadly or scathing her looks thrown at him may be. He then nods in the direction of the ring, as two of the large gates below slowly open. “Just you watch.”
Linara turns her gaze downwards, not deining to answer him. Her eyes flicker to one of the gates- out of it stomps a large, bulky dragon, the likes of which she's never seen. Even Wanderers never get to this size or length. It lumbers inwards, all muscle and scales and powers. Its wings were cut off, and it's missing one of its head horns. It looks rather skinny, with its ribs poking out of its scaly hide.
It's been starved, and she knows why. Her hands clench into fists as she looks at the other gate.
Her heart skips a beat.
Sylus walks into the arena, his head held high. His white hair has grown since the last they'd seen one another, and it falls around the back of his neck. He's wearing leather armor over one shoulder, a thin belt spanning across his chest to connect underneath the opposite armpit. His leg armor is dirty and worn in already, indicating he's been through many fights that she hasn't been allowed to see. When she squints, she can see many scars and fresher wounds marr his body, but he walks forward as if none of it bothers him. He messes with the glove on one hand, twisting it to straighten it out. On his back is a large battle axe, its edges shining with how sharp they are, covered in rust and blood in other areas. There's a collar similar to Linara’s around his neck- suppressing his Evol, no doubt.
He looks a mess, and yet the sight of him makes her stomach butterflies flutter and her heart sing. She leans forward, resting her hands on the railing of the balcony. It's as far as her damnable leash will allow her to go, and she takes the slack she's given. She wants to bite the king’s throat out with her bare teeth, but the guards standing nearby with sharp weapons would slice her to shreds the second she moves at him.
So she waits, biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to rise. She only needs thirty seconds with this scum.
She watches as Sylus strides in, and while he may look composed to others, Linara can see the slight limp in his right leg. He's favoring his left just the tiniest of degrees, which shouldn't be too big of a problem for him, but she does know it can cause his aim to be off by a hair.
He stops some feet away from the dragon, observing how it moves and twitches. There is a rider on the dragon’s back, keeping in some sort of control. The dragon walks on all fours, its damaged claws cutting through the sand as it twists and turns, its nostrils flaring as it tastes the air filled with the scent of blood and prey. It roars, lips drawing back enough to reveal rows and rows of sharpened teeth and fangs. Its eyes are small, but they're focused, and when they land on Sylus, all of that focus is locked on him.
It grumbles low in its throat, shifting on all four of its feet. Its long tail lashes, smacking into one of the walls. This causes the stands connected to tremble, and the audience members sitting there cheer with excitement.
The dragon opens its mighty jaws and roars at Sylus. For anyone else, this would have made them piss their pants and flee for their lives. For Sylus, he merely crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side.
Linara can barely hear him speak when he says in a taunting manner, “That all you got? I'm not impressed.”
She can't help the chuckle that escapes her. She’s not afraid for Sylus- far from it. She's seen him take down Wanderers with his bare hands in the past, even without using his Evol. He can handle himself- she has no doubt. She leans back a little, feeling more relaxed now that she’s seen Sylus than she's felt this entire month.
Now she just needs to see Zayne.
The gong that informs the audience that the battle has begun rings out, echoing amongst the audience. The dragon charges at Sylus, and he lets it. He raises a hand, grabbing onto its remaining horn. The rider gasps when Sylus appears beside him on the back of the dragon’s neck, easily knocking the other man from his saddle. The dragon pauses, shaking its head with confusion, stumbling around until one of its large feet crushes its former rider. The man screams under the weight, so guttural Linara can hear it from above. She winces. She hates these games.
Sylus grabs onto the dragon's remaining horn and pushes to the side, forcing the creature’s head down into the sandy ground. The dragon roars, snapping its jaws, but it can't get up no matter how hard it tries. Sylus continues to push, his muscles bunching up as he gets closer to the creature’s face. Its tail lashes, feet kicking at the air as Sylus closes his eyes for just a moment. He’s hesitating. Linara’s heart aches. Despite loving to fight, Sylus rarely enjoys killing innocents, if at all.
The dragon is innocent despite its ferocious attitude. It's been starved, beaten, tortured, and its wings were ripped from its body. It's a victim in these games just as Sylus is.
That moment of hesitance is gone a second later. Sylus grabs the bottom of the dragon’s chin and yanks upwards, causing a crack so loud to fill the air. He broke the dragon’s neck- an impressive feat of strength.
The audience bursts into applause and cheering, clapping and praising Sylus and his amazing strength. Sylus pushes up from the dragon’s head, staring down at its open eye. He reaches down, and carefully pulls the lid of its eye down to make it close. Linara’s heart aches once more.
Sylus then looks upwards, directly finding Linara in an instant. Her breath catches, and she meets his gaze readily. She watches as his face twists into an expression of pure anger; his lips draw back in a snarl similar to how the dragon’s had, his brows shoot downwards, and his eyes flash dangerously. He steps in the direction of the balcony, as if he could reach her- and maybe he could, if given the chance- but multiple guards rush into the arena, grabbing him from all directions.
Despite his earlier show of strength, the sheer number of men piling on top of him makes it difficult for him to move. They tie ropes around his wrists, his ankles and his neck, tugging him backwards towards the gate he'd come through. This seems to be a practiced routine, leading Linara to believe this wasn't the first time Sylus had set his eyes on the king with deadly intent. But this time, he's seen Linara. And he manages to continue walking forward, dragging multiple men with him on the ground. His teeth clench, his eyes locked on her. She looks back at the king, her own anger flaring. She simply wants to jump down to him and throw those men off of him- because how dare they restrain him like that?
But still, now isn't the time to attack the king. Not yet.
Another man manages to throw a rope around Sylus’ mouth, tugging his head backwards along with his neck. He lets out a snarl, stumbling back a few steps. The guards take the opportunity to push him to the ground, throwing up dust and sand into the air. The audience continues to roar, enjoying this added on bonus of watching the gladiator fight against the guards. The men manage to wrangle Sylus down, tying his hands above his head and his ankles together. He struggles against the restraints like a wild animal, biting down on the rope in his mouth with as much strength as a bear trap.
He’s slowly but surely pulled out of the arena, leaving a trail in the sand as he goes. More men clean up the dragon body as well as the corpse of its rider, making room for the next challenge.
“I quite enjoyed that dragon,” the king mutters, as if it were a casual conversation. Some of the nobles behind him mutter their agreement, nodding their heads along with him. “Ah well, it was quite satisfying to see someone break its neck. Very entertaining.”
He looks over his shoulder at one of the nobles with a smirk. “I do hope you'll have another dragon brought for a future show, Enderline,” he says. The noble woman covers her mouth with a hand, letting out a small giggle.
“Of course,” she says, her voice airy. “It will be even bigger and meaner than this one. Perhaps younger, too. And a male, to make it more aggressive.”
The king grins as Linara scowls at the woman. While he finds the idea outright stupendous- another dragon to kill more innocent gladiators, what fun!- she finds it outright deplorable. How dare these people find enjoyment in watching innocents fight to their deaths for the simple want of a better life with better pay. Apparently, being a gladiator is one of the highest paying jobs in the kingdom if you weren't sold into it as a slave. Many people looking for riches sign up, and then are kept there until their contract ends, forcing them to live in squalor until- or if, it should be said- they reach the end, where they're given a hefty amount of coin.
It sickens her, their joy. But they simply ignore her as one of the king’s newest toys. She wants to punch all of these people- maybe throw them into the ring to see how they like the endless, bloody fighting. They wouldn't be laughing or grinning then.
The king yanks on her leash once more, forcing her head to hit his shoulder. She grimaces, her neck throbbing from the constant yanking. She throws him another glare, but he simply grins at her maliciously.
“That was one of the men you came with, yes?” he says. Excitement coats his tone, and she fears what's going to happen next. “Aren't you worried about the other?”
She doesn't answer him. She'd rather choke on rocks than speak to him. She turns her gaze back down to the arena, just in time to see the gates open once more.
Zayne steps out of one of them. She gasps, and leans forward so quickly the collar around her neck chokes her. She doesn't stop, however, gagging as she leans as far as she can, despite the slight choking. She has to see him, and has to make sure he's okay. Or, as okay as he can be in this situation.
He’s wearing a similar get up to Sylus’, though his armor seems to be in better condition. It looks like it's covered in ice spikes as decorative pieces, and those spikes reflect the light brightly. He seems cleaner than Sylus somehow, and his hair is the same length as it had been the last time she saw him. He's covered in as many battle wounds as Sylus, but they're in better condition, better care.
How is he in such better shape than Sylus?
“I heard that Lady Noblesse took an interest in him,” the king says. Some of the noblemen chortle behind him. “She's such a kind sponsor… with such a small payment to make sure he has top quality armor and care.”
“It seems he's good in bed, too,” one of the nobles says with amusement. Linara chokes at his words, her eyes darting back at him. “Why else would he be so spick and span?”
“What..?” she finds herself saying, unable to stop the croak of a word from escaping her. The king grins widely when he hears her, and he tugs her closer.
“Lady Noblesse is known to sponsor gladiators,” the king says in a low, taunting tone. “And the way she gets payment in return for her… generous offerings, is a night in bed with those gladiators. The better they are, the better the care they receive…”
Linara feels dizzy at the explanation. Her eyes dart back downwards, falling on Zayne once more. She observes him, her jaw tightening. But no- there's no way Zayne would do such a thing. She knows he wouldn't- he wouldn't do that to her and Sylus. He wouldn't do that to himself. He's too prideful and loyal to whore himself out like that.
He’s a tidy and meticulous man, and Linara is one hundred percent sure that he's somehow found a way to keep himself clean and tidy despite the circumstances. Her shoulders relax, and she lets out a breath. She can't believe she'd let herself believe Zayne would do such a thing for even a few seconds. He's not that kind of a man.
Zayne finds her in an instant, even as the gates opposite to him open. He's always been able to find her in a crowd, and today is no difference. Their eyes meet, and Linara tenses. He seems as cool and collected as always, but she knows how to read him better than anyone. There's a darkness in his eyes- one that she's only ever seen after a failed surgery or another nightmare. His entire body is tight, ready to pounce or run away at a moment’s notice. His face is pale, his cheeks sunken in, and he looks about ready to pass out.
He's suffering through this. Linara wants to cry for him, but she can't show such weakness in front of this asshole of a king.
She wants nothing more than to take Zayne into her arms and hold him close, to press kisses against his temple and to whisper into his ear softly. He needs the comfort right now- she can tell.
She can also tell he wants to do nothing more than to freeze the entire audience of the colosseum. If only he wasn't wearing the collar and Sylus had on.
Zayne breaks his gaze from hers with great difficulty, looking ahead at his opponent. It's another man. Linara grabs onto the railing tightly. Why did they have to pair Zayne with another person? Why couldn't it be another beast of some kind?
The audience once more cheers, this time for the pair up. The man facing Zayne is large- taller than Zayne. He boasts more muscles as well, with thick arms and thighs that could crush a watermelon between them. He towers over Zayne, dragging a great sword behind him.
While the man is muscular, Zayne is lean with his own strength. He’s always kept himself at a comfortable healthy line for his body throughout life, leaving him with less muscle than most, but he bears strength in them anyhow. He’s deceptively thin, with more strength than most would presume. Linara can see his muscles now with how he's dressed, and stares at how sweaty he already is. The weather on this planet has so far shown to be extremely hot, so she's not surprised he's already sweating without fighting yet.
Zayne’s opponent has a sword. Zayne has no weapon. The realization makes Linara shift uncomfortably. Why doesn't he have a sword or axe? Sylus had an axe even though he hadn't ended up using it. Zayne doesn't have his Evol right now.. so what is he planning on doing? He doesn't have the same hand to hand experience Sylus does.
The king lifts the hand he isn't using to hold Linara’s leash to snap his fingers together. Zayne’s body jolts, and fresh ice surrounds him where he's standing on the ground. His breath clouds in front of him, his eyes glowing a cold blue. His target shifts uneasily at the sight. The king is allowing Zayne to use his Evol…
That's when she understands. Zayne isn't facing a monster- he is the monster.
The bell rings out, and despite his obvious hesitation, the other gladiator shoots forward, sword raised high. Zayne lets out another cloudy breath and side steps, leaving a puddle of ice in the man's path. One of the man’s feet lands in the ice, and in an instant, it begins to crawl up his leg like poisoned veins.
The man grunts, yanking his foot free as more ice gathers around Zayne in the air. Linara briefly wonders why Zayne isn't just throwing ice at the king, but quickly realizes the balcony most likely has some kind of magical protection. Otherwise, it would be rather idiotic to allow Zayne to use his Evol.
The man once more charges at Zayne, and the doctor sidesteps a second time. He's a man of control and precise calculations- he's not going to get in the dirt and mud. This may be part of the reason Zayne is far cleaner than Sylus was- he's allowed to use his Evol, and because of this, he doesn't have to get his hands dirty.
As Zayne dodges the man’s attack, he raises a hand, a shard of ice forming over his hand. Linara recognizes this pattern from their fights with Wanderers, and an icicle spear forms directly beside him. It's long, its point sharp and menacing. He has it aimed directly at the man’s head, and she knows he always hits his mark when he's concentrated like this.
But then the man falls to his knees when he stumbles, and looks up at Zayne. His eyes are wide, his face pale as he literally stared death in the face. Zayne hesitates, the icicle faltering, and it shoots outwards, barely missing the man’s head. It stands into one of the arena walls, leaving cracks where it had hit.
The audience falls silent, before jeering at Zayne for showing mercy. The man he'd shown that mercy to suddenly grins. He lurches forward, raising the sword in a wide arch. Linara finds herself screaming with fear as the sword moves closer and closer to Zayne’s abdomen. He steps back in time to prevent it from being serious, but the tip of the blade does cut a thin, bleeding line at the bottom of his stomach. Linara’s heart skips a beat and she launches to her feet.
“Zayne!” she screams, his name ripping through her throat.
His gaze snaps up to her, pain in his eyes. It's not pain for himself, but pain for what he's about to do. She grips onto the railing tighter, her brows pressing together helplessly as Zayne his hand once more. Ice forms along the side of it, stretching out like a blade. He throws it downwards, and it slices through the air and then the gladiator’s head as if it were nothing. The gladiator is killed instantly as soon as his brain is cut in half, blood spewing out of it like horrid rain. It sprays outwards, landing in the sand at Zayne's feet. He stares down at the man’s corpse, his hands clenched at his sides.
His face is blank, frozen over like an ice covered lake.
The king roars with his own applause at the same time as the audience lose their minds. The king laughs uproariously. “Isn't he marvelous, pet?” he asks loudly. Linara pays him no mind. She can only meet Zayne’s ashamed eyes, her heart cracking like the wall had. Their shared gaze is broken when the king yanks on her leash, causing her to fall into his lap like some kind of dog. He grabs her chin tightly, making her look at him. “I think he's my favorite. That white haired beast is my close second, but this ice monster… oh! Shivers!”
Oh- he'd feel more than shivers from Zayne’s ice if he were to face him. Zayne hates taking the lives of innocents, but that doesn't mean he won't kill someone who deserves it; like the king. He's a horrible man with a horrible heart with a horrible outlook on other people and life in general. Zayne wouldn't be against killing him.
Especially not with that icy glare he's fixed on the king, seeing how he'd forced Linara into his lap.
Zayne is led out of the arena, much easier than Sylus had been. Linara is sure he's also bidding his time, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.
“Who are those men to you, anyways?” the king muses. He plays with a strand of Linara’s hair, twisting it around one of his fingers. She blocks him out, watching Zayne until he disappears past the gates. “Your brothers?” He pauses, observing Linara, as if picturing the other two men beside her. “No. none of you look alike at all. Unless you were all adopted, but what are the chances of that? No.. perhaps coworkers?” The king tugs on a strand of her hair, and she fixes a scathing glare on his face. He chuckles with amusement, as if she's nothing but a fun toy.
“Not coworkers,” the king continues, running his fingertips over her scalp. His fingers are tangled in her hair, like annoying bobby pins. “You care far too much for the… Zayne, was it? And the way you watched the red eyed gladiator… no, no.” He leans in closer, humid breath brushing on her face with a horrid stench. She shudders, her stomach roiling. “They're your lovers, aren't they?”
Linara snaps. She decks the king in the face, causing him to fly to the side. He slouches over one arm of his stupid throne, causing Linara to land on her feet. “Grab her!” he shouts out, one of his hands pressing against his bruising cheek. Linara doesn't move or try to flee- she wouldn't get far with all of the guards on the balcony.
Still, she's grabbed roughly by multiple pairs of hands, all dragging her backwards from the king. He grumbles as he straightens up, rubbing his surely throbbing cheek. She feels some satisfaction at the side of the purpling skin, and that satisfaction doesn't leave even as the king stands. He walks behind her and the guards.
“Hold her steady,” the king instructs. Nobles watch curiously as the king gets a better grip on the leash. “Hit a nerve, did I?”
He yanks backwards on the leash, causing the collar to dig into the front of her throat. She almost stumbles back, but the guards hold her in place, ensuring that she can't escape the strangulation. She gasps for air, her ears ringing with the laughter of the nobles around them. The king hoots and hollers, tugging even harder.
Her eyes sting with tears, her face filling with hot, pin prick needles. They all stand at the skin of her face from all angles, burning her all along. It feels as if her eyes are going to pop out from how hard she's being pulled in two separate directions.
Her lips part open like a fish, and she feels like one left in the middle of the desert, struggling for a breath.
“Well, if they're your favorites!” the king exclaims. She can barely make out what he's saying- it's as if she's under dry water, his voice muffled and distant. “Perhaps we can see them fight together!”
And that makes her choke worse than the strangulation.