Arena: Chapter 5: First
Feb. 14th, 2005 07:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckSeries/Chapter: Arena - First
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofck
Pairing: SB/VM (other pairings in later chapters)
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo is somewhere else, where everyone and no one is the same
Content/warnings: AU. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's ownporno script, populated by the individuals she feels would be ideal to fill the various roles if she ruled the universe if she were ever fortunate enough have the opportunity to bring her vision to the screen. *snortle*
Archive rights: www.rugbytackling.com, Green Opals, if they're interestd, and my journalsmuck_a_luck and brainofck
Further Disclaimer: Any resemblance to Ancient Rome mostly incidental. I have never seen any gladiator flick. Ever. Honest. Not even stinky Gladiator that stole FOTR's Oscar. *glares*
Blame:uisgich, for encouraging me
Arena
Water and Oil
Flesh and Iron
Night Terrors
They stood just inside the tunnel leading out into the arena. There was some sort of announcing going on, but Viggo tried to ignore it. Sean stood facing him across the tunnel, armed with a nasty thrusting spear and a fist-shield. Viggo was intensely grateful that his weapon today for his first, no, second, visit to this place was just a sword. His shield matched Sean's. They were dressed identically, too. Like something out of a bad gladiator flick. Little leather skirts that Viggo presumed were mostly for the sake of modesty. Long, soft leather boots. And that was it. When Viggo was shocked that they were expected to fight this way, Sean laughed at him, pointing out that they would have full freedom of movement and their feet were covered.
"What more do you want?" he asked.
"I dunno. A little more protection?!"
"That's not really the point, is it?" Sean replied. "And this way, the crowd gets to see you bleed."
It was the only bitter word about his chosen life that Viggo had ever heard Sean utter.
Then they were walking out into the bright sun, the crowd was roaring and stomping, the sand was hot, and Viggo was in his nightmare again.
Crossing the sand towards them were their opponents. Sean looked them over and swore. Viggo took that as a bad sign.
"I wonder who Sennet pissed off?" he muttered.
They were taller than he and Sean by a head, easily, and much heavier. And axes.
It was going to be ugly.
The middle of the large arena had been set off with two large circles of flat black stones on the white sand. With a growl and another mutter, Sean stalked off to the left, gesturing with his spear for Viggo to go right.
Viggo stepped over the ring of stones into the circle on the right. His opponent did the same. The man was dressed similarly to himself. He held his weapon with ease. Gave it a huge swing around his head, drawing an answering shout from the stands. Viggo tried to appraise him with a warrior's eyes, and all he could see was a couple hundred pounds of killing machine. His hands were sweating. He strove to steady his heart rate with deep, slow breathing through his nose. He smelled the saltiness of his own sweat. Viggo flung his shield away. He hated fighting with them anyway, and it wasn't going to do him any good against the weight of that ax. The crowd gave another roar of approval at this apparent act of defiance.
The official raised his arm and the crowd went still.
"You will face your opponents honorably and fight man to man within your circles. If you step outside the boundary, you forfeit your bout and your honor and you will be given to the beasts tomorrow morning. When your opponent is dead, you may turn to the aid of your sword brother. Begin."
The suddenness of it left Viggo with his head spinning. His opponent didn't miss a beat. He threw himself across the broad circle of stones at an all-out run, his ax flying, roaring a hideous frightening battle cry.
It was like the other time. His world narrowed to the oncoming man. Noise and heat faded away. Some other person, some warrior person, with reflexes and training and skill took over Viggo's body. Only this time, he knew he'd won. The man came at him, Viggo waited til the last possible moment, sidestepped and struck. The man went by him, carried forward by his momentum. The stroke cut him through to his spine.
Well, there wasn't anything that could be done about it. Usually, the arena master did a better job matching the fighters, especially for a new slave's first appearance. But it wasn't for the combatants to choose whom they would fight. He and Viggo had these two and that was that.
He could tell how frightened his friend was, and all he could do was hope that the same instincts and abilities that had served him so well in that first melee would carry him through this more personal combat. Sean turned his back on Viggo deliberately and faced his own opponent, easy and confident. He hoped that his own calm would help ease some of Viggo's fear.
The battle began and Sean heard the battle cry from behind him. He kept his eyes on his own man. Tall, heavy, with a more substantial weapon, but with less reach. Sean was good with a thrusting spear. A couple of openings and a little luck were all he needed.
Sean began to circle carefully, gauging his opponent's reactions. But the man was making the most basic mistake of a new slave to the fight. He wasn't paying attention to Sean. He was watching his sword brother. Sean moved carefully so that he was just on the edges of the man's peripheral vision, then began a swift rush in.
Except the man was no longer there. His sword brother had fallen to Viggo's first cut, and the man was screaming, howling, and without regard for the rules of the event, flinging himself toward Viggo as fast as he could run.
Sean chased him. Viggo turned in response to the shout. The crowd was in a frenzy of stomping and screaming. Viggo dropped to one knee and evaded the man's first attack. As the man turned, Sean drew back his spear and hurled it. It wasn't designed for throwing, and the Weapons Master sucked his teeth and spat in the dust when he caught Sean practicing.
But the short heavy spear plunged deep into his chest, and the man fell back into the dirt.
"You couldn't have made it a bit more interesting, could you?" Maris asked in mock outrage.
Viggo replied only with the hesitant smile of a man who doesn't understand, but wants to.
"Maybe he can make it more interesting if they give him somebody better to fight," Sean retorted, drawing thumping and whistling up and down the table. Viggo let his smile broaden.
But instead of replying with a joke or an insult, Maris raised his cup and turned back to Viggo.
"I salute you, Viggo of Sennet's barracks, upon your valiant victory in your first combat! I doubt if there's anybody better than you with a sword, and I count myself lucky that the rules don't let us fight each other as long as we share a barracks." He tipped his cup back, and the rest of the table drank to his victory. A kind gesture to the barracks' idiot. Viggo hid his embarrassment in his cup.
"However," Hadrian added, "You still have much room for improvement. You should take Sean as your example. Very impressive piece of work today, brother!" Here more thumping and whistling. They all drank to Sean's accomplishment. There was general outrage at the other man's attack on Viggo - from behind, in violation of the rules of the fight.
"But Sean managed a clean kill in spite of it all. Attacked from the front. And didn't leave his circle til his man was dead! Drink to Sean and honor in the face of barbarism!"
The afternoon had faded into a haze of food and wine and laughter. Viggo was amazed at the real relief and joy to have them both back and at the table again.
The door closed behind them with the familiar thump. Viggo was more than a little drunk, and Sean was even farther gone. The room was warm and the light was soft and for a rash moment, Viggo wondered what Sean would do if he just took him in his arms and kissed him. Even in his haze, he knew what a terrible idea it would be, but that failed to stop the sigh of disappointment.
Sean turned back to him from where he was stripping out of his clothes for sleep. Suddenly, he was staring at Viggo with an intensity that didn't make any sense at all.
"I know what you want," Sean said, his voice thick and sweat with mead. He let the last bit of clothing drop to the floor. He was coming back across the room now, and Viggo had finally placed the look. Drunken lust. He took an involuntary step backward, but the room was small and there wasn't another step to take. Sean was there, undoing the laces of Viggo's shirt with remarkably steady fingers, watching him with that same predatory look.
Viggo knew he should say something. Protest that Sean didn't know what Viggo wanted. That Sean - no, both of them - would regret this in the morning. That they both knew how clearly Maris could hear them through the wall. But he couldn't make his brain produce the words. In his hazy state he had gotten stuck between how much he wanted it and how well he knew he couldn't take it.
Then the door opened.
Sean saw them and laughed. He swooped the blond up in his arms, eliciting something between a laugh of delight and a shriek of fear. He deposited her flat on her back on their bed and began lavishing her with hungry kisses as the two of them worked at cross-purposes to get her clothes off.
Viggo realized he was staring, and turned his head abruptly, only to find that the second young woman was standing by the Weapons Master, watching him expectantly. The Master wasn't bothering to turn his head, watching Sean and the woman across the room with and expression that was disturbingly like paternal pride.
"He'll give her what she wants tonight," he said approvingly. Then turned to Viggo. He gestured at the woman.
"The girls asked for you. And no man should sleep alone after a victory in the arena."
Viggo sat huddled on the corner of the bed, as far from the rutting couple as possible, watching the stars out their window. It was a long time since Viggo had tried to wake up from the dream. It was his life in Wellington and before that seemed like the dream, these days, distant, like it had all happened to another person. He wondered if this was what the elves had felt, after living fifty or a hundred lifetimes. No wonder they walked in waking dreams. Viggo thought that maybe mortals weren't equpped for the waking dream - not ready to live multiple lifetimes and leave so much behind as the years swept them forward. At this moment Viggo very much wanted to wake up from the dream.
The woman sat across the window from him. At first she had been wide-eyed and confused, but now she just seemed angry and disgusted. Viggo didn't care. He had never been so happy that they believed he couldn't understand. He could see everything she wanted to say in the hostile set of her features and the anger of the lines of her back and arms. It was a relief when the Weapons Master appeared to let the women out of their locked room some time in the small hours of the night. Viggo lay down as far as possible from his sated friend and let himself fall into an exhausted sleep.
When he woke in the morning, it was late. Their door was ajar, but no one had called them, and Sean was still snoring heavily.
Viggo rose and dressed quickly, wincing against the headache, and glad it wasn't any worse. Then he walked out through the training yards and up to the house.
Chapter 6: Opening
Author:
muck_a_luck, posting in brainofckPairing: SB/VM (other pairings in later chapters)
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo is somewhere else, where everyone and no one is the same
Content/warnings: AU. Violence.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Slash is fiction. So while we may all be demented, slash is basically the author's own
Archive rights: www.rugbytackling.com, Green Opals, if they're interestd, and my journals
muck_a_luck and brainofckFurther Disclaimer: Any resemblance to Ancient Rome mostly incidental. I have never seen any gladiator flick. Ever. Honest. Not even stinky Gladiator that stole FOTR's Oscar. *glares*
Blame:
uisgich, for encouraging meArena
Water and Oil
Flesh and Iron
Night Terrors
They stood just inside the tunnel leading out into the arena. There was some sort of announcing going on, but Viggo tried to ignore it. Sean stood facing him across the tunnel, armed with a nasty thrusting spear and a fist-shield. Viggo was intensely grateful that his weapon today for his first, no, second, visit to this place was just a sword. His shield matched Sean's. They were dressed identically, too. Like something out of a bad gladiator flick. Little leather skirts that Viggo presumed were mostly for the sake of modesty. Long, soft leather boots. And that was it. When Viggo was shocked that they were expected to fight this way, Sean laughed at him, pointing out that they would have full freedom of movement and their feet were covered.
"What more do you want?" he asked.
"I dunno. A little more protection?!"
"That's not really the point, is it?" Sean replied. "And this way, the crowd gets to see you bleed."
It was the only bitter word about his chosen life that Viggo had ever heard Sean utter.
Then they were walking out into the bright sun, the crowd was roaring and stomping, the sand was hot, and Viggo was in his nightmare again.
Crossing the sand towards them were their opponents. Sean looked them over and swore. Viggo took that as a bad sign.
"I wonder who Sennet pissed off?" he muttered.
They were taller than he and Sean by a head, easily, and much heavier. And axes.
It was going to be ugly.
The middle of the large arena had been set off with two large circles of flat black stones on the white sand. With a growl and another mutter, Sean stalked off to the left, gesturing with his spear for Viggo to go right.
Viggo stepped over the ring of stones into the circle on the right. His opponent did the same. The man was dressed similarly to himself. He held his weapon with ease. Gave it a huge swing around his head, drawing an answering shout from the stands. Viggo tried to appraise him with a warrior's eyes, and all he could see was a couple hundred pounds of killing machine. His hands were sweating. He strove to steady his heart rate with deep, slow breathing through his nose. He smelled the saltiness of his own sweat. Viggo flung his shield away. He hated fighting with them anyway, and it wasn't going to do him any good against the weight of that ax. The crowd gave another roar of approval at this apparent act of defiance.
The official raised his arm and the crowd went still.
"You will face your opponents honorably and fight man to man within your circles. If you step outside the boundary, you forfeit your bout and your honor and you will be given to the beasts tomorrow morning. When your opponent is dead, you may turn to the aid of your sword brother. Begin."
The suddenness of it left Viggo with his head spinning. His opponent didn't miss a beat. He threw himself across the broad circle of stones at an all-out run, his ax flying, roaring a hideous frightening battle cry.
It was like the other time. His world narrowed to the oncoming man. Noise and heat faded away. Some other person, some warrior person, with reflexes and training and skill took over Viggo's body. Only this time, he knew he'd won. The man came at him, Viggo waited til the last possible moment, sidestepped and struck. The man went by him, carried forward by his momentum. The stroke cut him through to his spine.
Well, there wasn't anything that could be done about it. Usually, the arena master did a better job matching the fighters, especially for a new slave's first appearance. But it wasn't for the combatants to choose whom they would fight. He and Viggo had these two and that was that.
He could tell how frightened his friend was, and all he could do was hope that the same instincts and abilities that had served him so well in that first melee would carry him through this more personal combat. Sean turned his back on Viggo deliberately and faced his own opponent, easy and confident. He hoped that his own calm would help ease some of Viggo's fear.
The battle began and Sean heard the battle cry from behind him. He kept his eyes on his own man. Tall, heavy, with a more substantial weapon, but with less reach. Sean was good with a thrusting spear. A couple of openings and a little luck were all he needed.
Sean began to circle carefully, gauging his opponent's reactions. But the man was making the most basic mistake of a new slave to the fight. He wasn't paying attention to Sean. He was watching his sword brother. Sean moved carefully so that he was just on the edges of the man's peripheral vision, then began a swift rush in.
Except the man was no longer there. His sword brother had fallen to Viggo's first cut, and the man was screaming, howling, and without regard for the rules of the event, flinging himself toward Viggo as fast as he could run.
Sean chased him. Viggo turned in response to the shout. The crowd was in a frenzy of stomping and screaming. Viggo dropped to one knee and evaded the man's first attack. As the man turned, Sean drew back his spear and hurled it. It wasn't designed for throwing, and the Weapons Master sucked his teeth and spat in the dust when he caught Sean practicing.
But the short heavy spear plunged deep into his chest, and the man fell back into the dirt.
"You couldn't have made it a bit more interesting, could you?" Maris asked in mock outrage.
Viggo replied only with the hesitant smile of a man who doesn't understand, but wants to.
"Maybe he can make it more interesting if they give him somebody better to fight," Sean retorted, drawing thumping and whistling up and down the table. Viggo let his smile broaden.
But instead of replying with a joke or an insult, Maris raised his cup and turned back to Viggo.
"I salute you, Viggo of Sennet's barracks, upon your valiant victory in your first combat! I doubt if there's anybody better than you with a sword, and I count myself lucky that the rules don't let us fight each other as long as we share a barracks." He tipped his cup back, and the rest of the table drank to his victory. A kind gesture to the barracks' idiot. Viggo hid his embarrassment in his cup.
"However," Hadrian added, "You still have much room for improvement. You should take Sean as your example. Very impressive piece of work today, brother!" Here more thumping and whistling. They all drank to Sean's accomplishment. There was general outrage at the other man's attack on Viggo - from behind, in violation of the rules of the fight.
"But Sean managed a clean kill in spite of it all. Attacked from the front. And didn't leave his circle til his man was dead! Drink to Sean and honor in the face of barbarism!"
The afternoon had faded into a haze of food and wine and laughter. Viggo was amazed at the real relief and joy to have them both back and at the table again.
The door closed behind them with the familiar thump. Viggo was more than a little drunk, and Sean was even farther gone. The room was warm and the light was soft and for a rash moment, Viggo wondered what Sean would do if he just took him in his arms and kissed him. Even in his haze, he knew what a terrible idea it would be, but that failed to stop the sigh of disappointment.
Sean turned back to him from where he was stripping out of his clothes for sleep. Suddenly, he was staring at Viggo with an intensity that didn't make any sense at all.
"I know what you want," Sean said, his voice thick and sweat with mead. He let the last bit of clothing drop to the floor. He was coming back across the room now, and Viggo had finally placed the look. Drunken lust. He took an involuntary step backward, but the room was small and there wasn't another step to take. Sean was there, undoing the laces of Viggo's shirt with remarkably steady fingers, watching him with that same predatory look.
Viggo knew he should say something. Protest that Sean didn't know what Viggo wanted. That Sean - no, both of them - would regret this in the morning. That they both knew how clearly Maris could hear them through the wall. But he couldn't make his brain produce the words. In his hazy state he had gotten stuck between how much he wanted it and how well he knew he couldn't take it.
Then the door opened.
Sean saw them and laughed. He swooped the blond up in his arms, eliciting something between a laugh of delight and a shriek of fear. He deposited her flat on her back on their bed and began lavishing her with hungry kisses as the two of them worked at cross-purposes to get her clothes off.
Viggo realized he was staring, and turned his head abruptly, only to find that the second young woman was standing by the Weapons Master, watching him expectantly. The Master wasn't bothering to turn his head, watching Sean and the woman across the room with and expression that was disturbingly like paternal pride.
"He'll give her what she wants tonight," he said approvingly. Then turned to Viggo. He gestured at the woman.
"The girls asked for you. And no man should sleep alone after a victory in the arena."
Viggo sat huddled on the corner of the bed, as far from the rutting couple as possible, watching the stars out their window. It was a long time since Viggo had tried to wake up from the dream. It was his life in Wellington and before that seemed like the dream, these days, distant, like it had all happened to another person. He wondered if this was what the elves had felt, after living fifty or a hundred lifetimes. No wonder they walked in waking dreams. Viggo thought that maybe mortals weren't equpped for the waking dream - not ready to live multiple lifetimes and leave so much behind as the years swept them forward. At this moment Viggo very much wanted to wake up from the dream.
The woman sat across the window from him. At first she had been wide-eyed and confused, but now she just seemed angry and disgusted. Viggo didn't care. He had never been so happy that they believed he couldn't understand. He could see everything she wanted to say in the hostile set of her features and the anger of the lines of her back and arms. It was a relief when the Weapons Master appeared to let the women out of their locked room some time in the small hours of the night. Viggo lay down as far as possible from his sated friend and let himself fall into an exhausted sleep.
When he woke in the morning, it was late. Their door was ajar, but no one had called them, and Sean was still snoring heavily.
Viggo rose and dressed quickly, wincing against the headache, and glad it wasn't any worse. Then he walked out through the training yards and up to the house.
Chapter 6: Opening
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 03:51 pm (UTC)Argh! *points to RL journal (http://muck_a_luck.livejournal.com)* I'm TRYING to do ACCOUNTING here! You are going to dissolve me into a drooly, daydreaming fangirl and make me totally useless!
So glad you liked it!
*has weapon fetish*
All I know about ancient weapons I learned reading DK books to my Small Boy. Heh. The things you learn when you have a 6-year-old male in the house...
Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 05:46 pm (UTC)As for sharpy pointy things, take a look (http://www.livejournal.com/users/wyldestarr/16427.html). ^_^ I'm actually missing one there (had to charge the camera and then forgot) and the RenFaire is up end of the month I think, so that means more to add to the collection. *rubs hands together eagerly* Don't worry, I'm mostly harmless...mostly.
Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 05:48 pm (UTC)Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 05:53 pm (UTC)Meanwhile, let me say...
Arrrrrrrrghghghghghgh!!!! Not Brainfuck!!! *glares at Scotland for good measure*
Certain parties have already drawn my attention to this unfortunate combination of consonants.... *glares at all and sundry*
Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 06:04 pm (UTC)*pets Scotland* What did Scotland do?
Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 06:13 pm (UTC)The above-mentioned noticing party resides there. Wenches, both of you.
Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 06:28 pm (UTC)Re: Stop! No!
Date: 2005-03-17 07:50 pm (UTC)I read, I squeee'd, I melted, and somehow, I managed to post too. Bravo!