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Joel knows the thrills of the arena: he lives for it. It is blood and sweat, victory and defeat, all wrapped together to create a spectacle worth more than gold. Even now, he can hear the crowd cheering as Gem fights her last round. He cheers for her, just as any good husband does, but in the back of his mind, a small spiral of anxiety itches. This is the semifinal round of the championship; if Gem wins, she will have to fight the champion: Joel himself.
A tremendous cheer shakes the beams above Joel’s head as horns sound. He stands, hand resting on his sword as he wonders who will come through the door. Will it be Gem, or will it be someone else? He doesn’t have long to wait though, as moments later the door swings open and Gem comes in, covered in dust and blood.
“We need a divorce,” she says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t bat an eye when Joel sputters, instead grabbing a cloth to wipe the blood from her sword.
“Divorce?” Joel asks. He can barely contain his surprise; he thought their marriage was going well. Sure, it’s a bit complicated when you occasionally have to fight your spouse in the arena, but then again, every couple has some spats. “I thought–”
Gem shakes her head. “Look, I love you, I really do, but this is my chance. If we go out there as a couple, what are we?”
Us, Joel wants to say, but he keeps it in. “But I love you,” he says, the phrase seeming far too weak for the given situation.
“Places for the champion fight!” someone calls. Before Joel can push any further, he is whisked away to the other side of the arena. His mind is spinning with divorce and swords and love and a strange feeling, bubbling under the surface. It’s akin to sickness, though something else accompanies it that Joel does recognize: rage.
As he stands before the gate, his sword at the ready, he closes his eyes. Then he kisses the pommel of his sword, just as he has done in every fight before. It may be superstition, but it has led him to be champion. Besides, it helps him forget the fact of the matter: him and Gem, as much as he wants it to be, are no more. They are simply two gladiators, and this is a fight Joel has been ready for his whole life.
The horns blare and the gate opens. Joel runs into the arena to cheers. Across the way, Gem does the same, her red hair glinting in the sunlight. Joel tries to not think of how beautiful she is; he has to focus. He readies himself – mind, body spirit – as he lets the cheers and sunlight wash over him. Then the gong sounds, and it is to war.
Gem and Joel clash unlike any other battle Joel has fought before. There is force behind Gem;s attacks, each more powerful than the last. She wants this, this victory, but Joel is not ready to give it to her. He’s won in the arena countless times before; what is once more, even if it is his ex-wife? Their swords cross, their feet dance across the sand, and every so often, a strike lands true. Joel draws first blood in a scathing blow to Gem’s thigh, only to be matched moments later by a slice to his shoulder.
For what feels like hours, they battle. Only as Joel goes in for a strike does he realize his fatal flaw: a gap in his defenses that Gem sees in an instant. He falls to his knees as Gem’s sword strikes his side, cutting deep. The gong sounds once more, this time calling the match.
Joel misses much of what happens next. Medics surround him, carrying him from the arena as horns and the crowd rally for the new champion. He drifts in and out of consciousness as they patch his side, certain of one thing: while he may still love Gem, she holds no regard for him, and should they meet once more in the arena, he is ready to give it his all.