Work Text:
Stephen sat in the damp, chilled stone cell, half-heartedly tugging at the rusty chains that bound him to the wall.
It was stupid anyway. He might have been a criminal by definition, but he wasn’t a criminal who got caught. It was all because a snot-nosed brat thought it’d be funny to run into him and yell for mommy, that bitch had recognized him from the wanted posters; that’s the only reason he got caught.
Stephen pulled out the bounty of his latest heist, and maybe his last. It was a measly pendent, and Stephen couldn’t see how it would be worth enough to warrant a citywide manhunt. It was actually pretty ugly by Stephen’s standards. The gem was grey and surrounded by needlessly gaudy silver.
The intricacies made Stephen’s head spin. Maybe that’s why they liked it, to put people off guard by making them sick.
The faraway tapping sound of footsteps reached Stephen’s ears, and he tucked away the pendent. Somehow they hadn’t thought to search him thoroughly when they captured him, only stripping him of his cloak and weapons, but he wasn’t about to give up this last thing now.
The scuffing of stone grew louder, and soon there were two men at the bars of his cell. The key rattled, and Stephen glared at them as they approached. His shackles were next, and Stephen rubbed his sore wrists.
“Get up,” one of the men said gruffly.
Stephen complied but only because sitting wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“Where are we going?” Stephen asked. It was a little redundant, he knew, but he couldn’t help but confirm his fate. The Gallows.
”The colosseum,” the other man said.
Stephen blinked. “Oh,” he said eloquently.
The men gave him a shove and he was walking, walking through twisted passages, walking toward a roaring stadium.
He was walking towards freedom. Hanging was permanent, but if all he had to do was fight someone to get out of here, he was good as gold.
Stephen was suddenly bright with confidence as he breathed the fresh, hot air of the arena, The crowd was deafening. The fall of the portcullis set him slightly on edge, but he’d be walking back through it soon.
His knives were tossed through the iron bars, and he picked them up, tucking them in the sheathes on his hips. This would be too easy. He marched a ways into the arena before stopping.
The gate opposite him began to rise. It didn’t matter what kind of man stepped through. Stephen would win.
Stephen’s eyes zeroed in on two yellow specks growing in the dark tunnel. A sickly pale form emerged, with long strands of silver hair draped over its shoulders. In the light of the sun, Stephen could see the sunkenness of a malnourished body. It had lean arms, ribs and hip bones visible, but that’s where it ended.
A thick muscled snake tail took over from the waist down, and it was still slithering out of the darkness. It unfurled slowly to encase nearly half the arena.
Fuck.
The hair on Stephen’s neck prickled at the knowledge of the tail behind him, even though he knew it was several meters away. Where the hell had they gotten a full grown naga?
He waited with baited breath for the bell to be hammered, signaling the start of the fight.
The gong reverberated through his chest and he jumped on instinct. Looking down, Stephen saw the thin end of the tail coiled where his ankles were. He tried to adjust his landing, but ended up slipping on scales.
Stephen winced as he twisted his ankle, but forced himself to lurch sideways. He didn’t have time to strategize, he had to end this before that tail caught him. There was no wiggling out of a naga’s grip.
Stephen ran in a slight arc around the edge of the arena that wasn’t bordered by that tail. While he ran, he unsheathed his knives, blades facing down and back. The naga wasn’t moving, and Stephen didn’t dare turn to find where that damned tail was.
If he could get close, he stood a chance. The upper body of the naga didn’t have those thick layers of scales, which means it was something he could cut.
The naga moved slightly, rising upwards. This left Stephen with little options than to go for the belly. Alright, prepare for a sharp meal.
Stephen came in from the side. If he could pull off a slash and keep running, he would maintain his momentum and hopefully avoid any nasty counterattacks.
Stephen lifted his right dagger to his chest, and prepared the left one to swing. As soon as he was close enough, the silver of his dagger shot out, and his heart dropped to his stomach.
The Naga had grabbed Stephen’s wrist and stopped the blow, halting him in his tracks in the process. He tugged himself towards the offending limb and embedded his right knife in the naga’s arm.
The naga screeched and let go, but Stephen stumbled back into its tail. Shit, when had it gotten so close!?
Stephen redirected himself but ended up tripping towards the naga. He dropped his knives to catch himself, and his hands and knees scraped the ground.
Stephen watched his pendant swinging in his vision. It must’ve fallen out. There it was, in all its ugly glory, the thing that ruined him.
Stephen’s body tensed as that tail finally grabbed hold of him. His breathing quickened as it wound up his legs and Stephen started thrashing. What were you supposed to do when a naga had you? He couldn’t fucking remember!
Probably just accept your fate because even the thin end of the tail was 10 times as strong as you. The resounding cheers of the crowd were making it hard to think. Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to go out like this! The entertainment of the public, like shit he was going to die for their amusement.
The tail was wrapping around his torso now, crushing the air out of his lungs. Stephen pushed against the thick muscle, but it didn’t even budge. The end slithered around his neck, and stars were forming in his vision. He clawed at the slippery scales desperately to no effect.
Then he registered what the crowd was saying. “Eat him! Eat him! Eat him!”
Eat him?
Stephen pried his eyes back open, and noticed he was off the ground. His arms dropped to his sides, the energy to fight squeezed from his body. Looking forward through tears and slowly darkening vision, Stephen was face to face with those golden eyes. That pale face, framed by long strands of silver, contorted as it opened its mouth.
Its jaw was unhinging. It was going to eat him.
His pendent burned against his chest, even hotter than the absence of air in his lungs.
If he was going to die, he didn’t want to face it. So, he let go.
—
Consciousness nagged at Stephen like the mother he never had. His entire body ached, and he was cradled in something cold. No matter how he adjusted, he couldn’t get comfortable. It hurt like a bitch when he let out a sigh.
He cracked his eyes open, despite wanting nothing more than to be unconscious at that moment. His eyes met a glowing bright blue, partially broken up by long wisps of hair.
Underneath him shifted, and smooth scales brushed against him. He clutched the pendent without really thinking, and when he looked, the stone was black. Past the Naga, he saw bars.
He was in another cell, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Stephen huffed a laugh and regretted it when pain ripped through him again. At least he wasn’t dead.