Heart of Gladiator

PLEASE NOTE THAT THE CHARACTERS OF THIS STORY ARE FICTONAL AND THE EVENTS THAT HAVE OCCURRED ARE PRIMARILY MADE UP BY THE WRITER. HOWEVER THE STORY HAS A TRUE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND WHICH IS THE CANTABRIAN WARS THAT TOOK PLACE DURING THE TIME OF AUGUSTUS, THE FIRST ROMAN EMPEROR WHO RULED FROM 27 BC UNTIL HIS DEATH IN 14 AD.

"A young warrior, my fellow friends, is going to step on this field today for the first time," the man in charge spoke out so loudly and calmly to an audience of thousands, "and he's offering not just any show, everybody, but a battle against two hideously fierce wildcats that are prepared to tear  

out each fiber of his body!" With that, the wild crowd began to explode with eagerness, thirst, and hunger for the final scene- the final battle of the day.  

The master of ceremony made way out of reach from the fanatical citizens, who anticipated including himself the new gladiator with starving eyes, alert minds, hollering voices, and tensed fists, causing the entire atmosphere to charge from the pressure of it all. Meanwhile, those words rang like bells through her ears and echoed in her now busy mind that was filled to the brim with horror and fear for what her soul was about to witness. Gwenor saw not only the people but also her family, the entire senate, and the aristocrats watch without a single heartbeat ceasing from any one of them in pity of this young man's life. 

She hated this so badly. It's been so since she was a girl, and it nurtured even further each time it crossed her awareness. But at this moment, for the sake of her father's position since he was a senator and for the fact that her sisters, Luella and Raya, had dragged her into this devilish place, this great Colosseum, she found herself being locked between its cruel walls that were bystanders of all the bloodshed of men, who were considered on the face of this earth as slaves. How can a man of the same casted shape and a soul of the same passions be different from that of any other? The question drifted around Gwenor's wondering and angry thoughts, causing the heat of the day to shoot up to her cheeks as she nervously sat in her place.  

Why was she disparate from the world? 

"Everybody, Aurelius!" the master of ceremony shouted at the top of his voice one last time. Then so hastily, so immediately, so uninformed, Gwenor's sky-blue eyes grasped view of the gladiotor's presence, whom each person within these malicious walls hailed for constantly while he confidently walked into the battlefield without a single trace of fear or hesitation in his sturdy steps. The minute he stopped halfway of his path to raise up his muscular hands that extended from extremely burly shoulders as a greeting to the crowd, Gwenor inhaled in sharply and didn't seem to find an easier way to exhale than to spurt out a low whimper, which was left unnoticed in the enormous noise, allowing relief to shower her preoccupied mind; she couldn't believe at how adrenaline wildly accelerated through her pumping veins. Her body and heart were completely, entirely, and wholly subjected on the man who stood before her as a warrior in his metallic armor and hidden from her sight by a mask of iron that corresponded to the harshness of his masculine and statuesque figure that was of golden brown tone and mightier than any other her eyes had ever settled upon. She could do nothing more but stand up and grip the concrete for support, ignoring everybody's questioning gaze on her, while she struggled with her lungs. 

By the time his sword was lifted to the level of his immense chest, Gwenor's heartbeat raced faster than probably his did. 

The combat had begun earlier than Gwenor expected, and the moment it did, there could've been a riot in the Colosseum by the way the men, women, and children bawled their encouragement and approval for the two lionessses to be released. Ultimately, two massive, iron doors were lifted high up in the air to expose the both vicious creatures that were drenched in disgusting saliva- they must have been completely under starvation and brutal tortures by the look of their revolting appearances. They circled the arena with heated vigor and incensed growls, almost no patience in their blood anymore; her heart ricocheted a thousand times, hurtfully banging on her feeble chest.