The Young Gladiatrix

A Thousand Steps Back

By the time Decimus had returned to Ash, he found her asleep. Her head resting in her arms on the table. Sleep was something she needed right now, even if she had fallen to sleep in an awkward place. With a soft smile, Decimus closed the door as silently as he could, moving over to Ash and gently lifting her into his arms. With Ash being as small as she was, he could easily pick her up. Moving her to the bed in the small room next to where they had been sat. Leaving the red cloak draped across her. "You just need a little time" he whispered, gazing down at her for a moment, before moving off to get some sleep himself.
He had indeed grown attatched to Ash. He found himself often thinking about her. They'd known each other for a long time now, and he'd been with her through everything in the arena. Though Ash was still a required warrior within the arena, if Decimus didn't deem her fit to fight. She wouldn't be fighting. Not if he could help it. To him, Ash was just a child. 17 years old was nothing in the arena. It was nothing to the guards. Nothing to the arena leaders. 17 years was just young blood. A child. Children came and went in the arena. Some found freedom, some weren't as lucky. Ash was somewhat of a lucky one. The circumstances that had brought her to the arena, meant that she was more required than most. Her luck drifted away each day though. As she lost the will to fight, and she lost the will to go on. Her luck faded.
Decimus felt like he was losing Ash. He may never have had her to begin with. But it just felt as though he was losing her. She became distant. Silent. If she spoke, it was welcomed. If she was silent. It concerned him. He still saw his daughter in her. That firey spirit she once had. The smile she once had. It all reminded him of her. Maybe he saw more than just that in her. But she wasn't his to take. He knew her heart belonged to one outside of the arena. He knew her heart belonged to the Russian, Dmitri, within the assassins. Decimus thought Dmitri was a lucky man. To have a girl such as Ash. The girl had an honest heart, and seemed to have a lot of love to give. She seemed defensive and protective. But loving and caring, all at the same time.
As Decimus lay in bed, he just stared at the ceiling. Thinking of the girl in the next room. How did he come to meet her, and why had he met her under such circumstances. Why had he been told to dehumanize her. Why had he been told to torture and build her back up into a gladiatrix. Why had he been told to build her up into a harsh killer. She seemed too innocent for it all. Despite once being a trained assassin. Why had he been told to take her from the people who had kept her safe from the one person she'd tried to avoid. He'd taken her a thousand steps back from where she once was. He'd taken her closer to her father. The man she'd fled from with her brother when they were just children. He'd taken away her confidence. Her passion.
Now she feared more than ever. She feared the horses. The guards. The other warriors. He'd work with her to regain the confidence. But he couldn't tell whether it was too late for it all.
He wished he could take back what he'd done. Take it back, and start again.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Awaiting the darkness of sleep to take him for a few hours.