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Series/Chapter: Arena - Last
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
0 Years
Arena
Water and Oil
Flesh and Iron
Night Terrors
First
Opening
Closing
Viggo woke at the sound of the gentle knock. The Master always woke them well before dawn on a day they fought. He grunted his acknowledgement and heard quiet footsteps fade away down the corridor.
When their door had opened, everything had changed for Viggo. There had been some early anger in the barracks over his trick. The Master had been particularly insulted. But that had faded quickly. He had found a mare in the market. She and her new colt were in the barn now, as well as a pair of geldings that were a joy to ride. He and Sean often did, which drew attention around the city, but he and Sean were too well known to escape, now. And Sean didn't want to run, anyway.
Viggo talked about it in the abstract as often as he dared. But Sean was adamant. He was certain that Sennet was only a few fights away from retiring them anyway, and there was so much to gain by staying.
So Viggo stayed.
When their door had opened, Viggo had expected one of them would move to new quarters. But apparently it was the superstition of the barracks that once a slave started winning, everything was lucky. The barracks wisdom was that Viggo and Sean had won together. As they had lived together up to the day of the fight, as they had woken up together that first day in the same bed, they needed to continue to live together, waking up together, if they wanted to continue to win. Though Viggo had laughed it off, Sean had taken it very seriously, and here they were, still living in the same small cell where they had been locked in on Viggo's very first night in the barracks.
Sean, of course, had slept through the knock. Viggo loved that Sean was a heavy sleeper. It meant that Viggo almost always woke first.
And waking up, these days, was one of the purest self-indulgences Viggo had ever allowed himself. They always ended up tangled together in the morning. At first, Viggo had thought he was the one doing it, but the second or third time it had happened, Sean had rolled away and rubbed his eyes sleepily.
"Sorry," he'd muttered, "I've always been a burrower." And that was all that was ever said about it.
This morning, Sean was half on top of him, breathing deeply against the crook of his neck, arm slung across his chest. Offering Viggo the most self-indulgent, if slightly masochistic, treat of all, a knee between his thighs, putting just the perfect, delicious pressure on Viggo's morning erection. Some mornings, he would tempt fate, and rock a little against Sean's dead weight.
But today he really needed to piss.
He shoved at Sean and muttered in his ear, "The Master just knocked. Time to get up."
Instead of moving, Sean shifted against him, pinning him even more effectively to the bed.
"Not time to get up," he protested blearily, "Still dark."
Viggo laughed and really shoved his friend, successfully squirming out from under him and clambering over him and off the bed.
"We fight today, sword brother," Viggo chuckled. "Plus, I have to piss. No cuddling for you."
All he got was a groan in reply.
"Up!" he shouted, then laughed as he headed down the hall.
When he came back, Sean was on his hands and knees, retching into the chamberpot. He seemed to have come to the end of the crisis, though, and sat back on his heels, wiping at his face with trembling hands.
It sent Viggo running from the room.
He found the Master seated before the fire in the dining room, eating the simple hot cereal he ate every moning before the day's training began.
"Master!" Viggo gasped, "You have to help him!"
"Poison," the old man said. They hadn't even gotten as far as Viggo and Sean's room. They were in the corridor, and the smell of sick was strong. Viggo thought maybe the Master had been able to tell by the smell.
They stepped into the room and Sean was sitting just where Viggo had left him. To Viggo's surprise, the old man went to his knees before the sick slave. He took Sean's face between his hands and stared at him for a long time. Sean's stillness under this examination disturbed Viggo so much that he couldn't stay. He went and stood in the hall.
"Can you hear me, boy?" The Master asked harshly.
Sean focused on him without too much difficulty and nodded. His head felt a little muzzy, like the rest of the world was far away, down a long tunnel. The Master's voice sounded distant, though Sean knew the old man was no more than an arm's length away.
"Sean," the old man repeated.
"I'm here, old man," Sean replied testily. "Some bastard poisoned me! I can't remember the last time I puked like that!" So odd. His own voice sounded far away, as well.
"Let's get you up, then. We need to get ready. You fight today."
"No we don't!" came Viggo's voice. Which sounded really far away. Then Sean realized that Viggo must have spoken from the corridor, as he was rounding the doorway now, clearly furious.
"Look at him! He can barely focus. You can't possibly expect him to fight like that!"
Viggo's anger made Sean laugh. And he did. Couldn't help himself. Viggo was looking at him like he was insane, and probably he was.
"It's too late to withdraw, Vig," Sean said, still laughing. "Sennet had until sunset yesterday to take us out of the fight. After that, the slave fights, or he goes to the beasts. So we fight today."
Viggo was staring at them, his mouth hanging open, as the Master nodded agreement with Sean's statement.
"Help me with him, you idiot barbarian!" The Master growled, struggling to help Sean to his feet. Viggo knelt beside them and they got Sean up and down the corridor to the dining room. Other men gathered around them sleepily, awakened by the noise Viggo was making in the corridor. They all watched Sean in concern as Viggo helped him to sit on one of the long benches.
The Master brought the last night's bread and a cup of water.
"Let's see if you can stand after you get some bread in your stomach," he said quietly. Sean ate dutifully, and for the moment seemed to be over the retching. Once he ate and drank, he stood again and took a few experimental steps around the room.
"Better," Sean declared. "Except my vision's double and the whole room is rocking." His voice was slurred.
Viggo was near panic now, but the Master was chuckling to himself.
"They botched the job!" He laughed. He sounded almost gleeful.
"What are you laughing about, old man?! Has senility finally caught up with you? He can't fight like this. At this rate, we'll be lucky if he doesn't have to crawl out into the arena! There has to be some way to stop this!"
"Viggo, boy, listen to me," the old man said sternly. "The dose was too small. He's already getting over it. He'll walk onto the field of battle and he'll even be able to lift his sword. And let us not forget, you fight with a sword today. And it's two on two. When was the last time you had any problem with two opponents? All Sean has to do is walk out onto the sand, then stay out of your way. Possibly practice a little self-defense, in the worst case."
Viggo just stared at him. Sean made his way back across the room. The Master was positively chortling now.
"You'll win anyway! Can you imagine? Wonderful!" He was beside himself.
Sean wobbled a little, and Viggo caught him by the arm.
"Well?!" Viggo demanded.
"I feel drunk and hung-over," Sean said slowly, forming his words carefully, watching Viggo owlishly. "But I think I can make it, if the Master is right."
"It doesn't matter, anyway," the Master said, suddenly serious. "There's no way out for either of you today. You go to the arena, like any other fight day. You will face your enemies, and you will fight to the best of your abilities, and you will live or die. That's all."
Viggo shut his eyes and wished for the first time in a very long time that the nightmare would end.
The sun was hot as always. They walked across the sand to the roar of the crowd, though more slowly than usual. Sean was managing it passably. But as they came to the center of the large field, Viggo faltered, and almost stopped.
It wasn't going to be two on two today. It was one on one. The same arrangement as their first fight. The same rules.
Sean was as good as dead.
"Come on Vig," Sean said. "Let's get it over with. You just have to be quick about it. I'll try not to get killed while you deal with your man."
Viggo stared at him.
"Sean?" It came out as a strangled croak.
But Sean just smiled at him, turned on his heel, wobbled a little, and walked to his circle.
Sean concentrated on not weaving as he took up his position opposite Acilius. More bad luck. Acilius was good, and his partner, Clemens, facing Viggo in the ring beside them, was better. Sean tried to pull his scattered attention and delayed reactions together and concentrate. He had to hold out long enough against Acilius for Viggo to finish off Clemens. Then Viggo could handle Acilius easily and Sean could go home and sleep it off. He dreaded the headache he was going to have tomorrow.
He took up his stance and waited for the fight to commence.
Viggo knew Clemens. He knew his weaknesses. They had been watching Acilius and Clemens for some time, now, expecting to face them. Himself and Sean, Acilius and Clemens - the best pair of pairs in the city, Viggo had thought at the time, watching Clemens' skills with a blade with professional respect.
Now all Viggo wanted to do was kill him. Quickly and efficiently.
And the damn man was evading all Viggo's best moves. It was taking too long. Because for the first time ever in this arena, the world had refused to narrow down to the two blades. His mind was wandering. He had to force himself not to look for Sean. He swung his blade nervously as he circled Clemens again.
Then he saw his opening and took it.
Done. The deed was done. Clemens was bleeding out in the sand, and Viggo didn't have to divide his attention anymore.
Viggo whirled and leapt, and landed ready to fight in Sean's circle just in time to see Acilius' blade swoop under Sean's unsteady defenses. The blade came away bloody, and Viggo could only watch in shock as Sean sank to his knees, left hand pressed to his wound.
Then Acilius did something no arena slave of his experience should have done.
He failed to strike the killing blow. As he turned to face Viggo, Sean lunged to his feet. His sword took Acilius below the ribs. The blow was through the lung to the heart, and Acilius was dead before he hit the ground.
The crowd was screaming and stomping and chanting, and all Viggo could see was Sean, standing on unsteady legs, looking down at his left hand, and parts of himself that should never see the light of day.
Viggo ran and caught him before he could collapse.
The arena priest came to them. Placed the laurels on them. Gave them the gold that was the prize for the fight. And began the prayers for the dead.
The Mysteries of the Next Life
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 me0 Years
Arena
Water and Oil
Flesh and Iron
Night Terrors
First
Opening
Closing
Viggo woke at the sound of the gentle knock. The Master always woke them well before dawn on a day they fought. He grunted his acknowledgement and heard quiet footsteps fade away down the corridor.
When their door had opened, everything had changed for Viggo. There had been some early anger in the barracks over his trick. The Master had been particularly insulted. But that had faded quickly. He had found a mare in the market. She and her new colt were in the barn now, as well as a pair of geldings that were a joy to ride. He and Sean often did, which drew attention around the city, but he and Sean were too well known to escape, now. And Sean didn't want to run, anyway.
Viggo talked about it in the abstract as often as he dared. But Sean was adamant. He was certain that Sennet was only a few fights away from retiring them anyway, and there was so much to gain by staying.
So Viggo stayed.
When their door had opened, Viggo had expected one of them would move to new quarters. But apparently it was the superstition of the barracks that once a slave started winning, everything was lucky. The barracks wisdom was that Viggo and Sean had won together. As they had lived together up to the day of the fight, as they had woken up together that first day in the same bed, they needed to continue to live together, waking up together, if they wanted to continue to win. Though Viggo had laughed it off, Sean had taken it very seriously, and here they were, still living in the same small cell where they had been locked in on Viggo's very first night in the barracks.
Sean, of course, had slept through the knock. Viggo loved that Sean was a heavy sleeper. It meant that Viggo almost always woke first.
And waking up, these days, was one of the purest self-indulgences Viggo had ever allowed himself. They always ended up tangled together in the morning. At first, Viggo had thought he was the one doing it, but the second or third time it had happened, Sean had rolled away and rubbed his eyes sleepily.
"Sorry," he'd muttered, "I've always been a burrower." And that was all that was ever said about it.
This morning, Sean was half on top of him, breathing deeply against the crook of his neck, arm slung across his chest. Offering Viggo the most self-indulgent, if slightly masochistic, treat of all, a knee between his thighs, putting just the perfect, delicious pressure on Viggo's morning erection. Some mornings, he would tempt fate, and rock a little against Sean's dead weight.
But today he really needed to piss.
He shoved at Sean and muttered in his ear, "The Master just knocked. Time to get up."
Instead of moving, Sean shifted against him, pinning him even more effectively to the bed.
"Not time to get up," he protested blearily, "Still dark."
Viggo laughed and really shoved his friend, successfully squirming out from under him and clambering over him and off the bed.
"We fight today, sword brother," Viggo chuckled. "Plus, I have to piss. No cuddling for you."
All he got was a groan in reply.
"Up!" he shouted, then laughed as he headed down the hall.
When he came back, Sean was on his hands and knees, retching into the chamberpot. He seemed to have come to the end of the crisis, though, and sat back on his heels, wiping at his face with trembling hands.
It sent Viggo running from the room.
He found the Master seated before the fire in the dining room, eating the simple hot cereal he ate every moning before the day's training began.
"Master!" Viggo gasped, "You have to help him!"
"Poison," the old man said. They hadn't even gotten as far as Viggo and Sean's room. They were in the corridor, and the smell of sick was strong. Viggo thought maybe the Master had been able to tell by the smell.
They stepped into the room and Sean was sitting just where Viggo had left him. To Viggo's surprise, the old man went to his knees before the sick slave. He took Sean's face between his hands and stared at him for a long time. Sean's stillness under this examination disturbed Viggo so much that he couldn't stay. He went and stood in the hall.
"Can you hear me, boy?" The Master asked harshly.
Sean focused on him without too much difficulty and nodded. His head felt a little muzzy, like the rest of the world was far away, down a long tunnel. The Master's voice sounded distant, though Sean knew the old man was no more than an arm's length away.
"Sean," the old man repeated.
"I'm here, old man," Sean replied testily. "Some bastard poisoned me! I can't remember the last time I puked like that!" So odd. His own voice sounded far away, as well.
"Let's get you up, then. We need to get ready. You fight today."
"No we don't!" came Viggo's voice. Which sounded really far away. Then Sean realized that Viggo must have spoken from the corridor, as he was rounding the doorway now, clearly furious.
"Look at him! He can barely focus. You can't possibly expect him to fight like that!"
Viggo's anger made Sean laugh. And he did. Couldn't help himself. Viggo was looking at him like he was insane, and probably he was.
"It's too late to withdraw, Vig," Sean said, still laughing. "Sennet had until sunset yesterday to take us out of the fight. After that, the slave fights, or he goes to the beasts. So we fight today."
Viggo was staring at them, his mouth hanging open, as the Master nodded agreement with Sean's statement.
"Help me with him, you idiot barbarian!" The Master growled, struggling to help Sean to his feet. Viggo knelt beside them and they got Sean up and down the corridor to the dining room. Other men gathered around them sleepily, awakened by the noise Viggo was making in the corridor. They all watched Sean in concern as Viggo helped him to sit on one of the long benches.
The Master brought the last night's bread and a cup of water.
"Let's see if you can stand after you get some bread in your stomach," he said quietly. Sean ate dutifully, and for the moment seemed to be over the retching. Once he ate and drank, he stood again and took a few experimental steps around the room.
"Better," Sean declared. "Except my vision's double and the whole room is rocking." His voice was slurred.
Viggo was near panic now, but the Master was chuckling to himself.
"They botched the job!" He laughed. He sounded almost gleeful.
"What are you laughing about, old man?! Has senility finally caught up with you? He can't fight like this. At this rate, we'll be lucky if he doesn't have to crawl out into the arena! There has to be some way to stop this!"
"Viggo, boy, listen to me," the old man said sternly. "The dose was too small. He's already getting over it. He'll walk onto the field of battle and he'll even be able to lift his sword. And let us not forget, you fight with a sword today. And it's two on two. When was the last time you had any problem with two opponents? All Sean has to do is walk out onto the sand, then stay out of your way. Possibly practice a little self-defense, in the worst case."
Viggo just stared at him. Sean made his way back across the room. The Master was positively chortling now.
"You'll win anyway! Can you imagine? Wonderful!" He was beside himself.
Sean wobbled a little, and Viggo caught him by the arm.
"Well?!" Viggo demanded.
"I feel drunk and hung-over," Sean said slowly, forming his words carefully, watching Viggo owlishly. "But I think I can make it, if the Master is right."
"It doesn't matter, anyway," the Master said, suddenly serious. "There's no way out for either of you today. You go to the arena, like any other fight day. You will face your enemies, and you will fight to the best of your abilities, and you will live or die. That's all."
Viggo shut his eyes and wished for the first time in a very long time that the nightmare would end.
The sun was hot as always. They walked across the sand to the roar of the crowd, though more slowly than usual. Sean was managing it passably. But as they came to the center of the large field, Viggo faltered, and almost stopped.
It wasn't going to be two on two today. It was one on one. The same arrangement as their first fight. The same rules.
Sean was as good as dead.
"Come on Vig," Sean said. "Let's get it over with. You just have to be quick about it. I'll try not to get killed while you deal with your man."
Viggo stared at him.
"Sean?" It came out as a strangled croak.
But Sean just smiled at him, turned on his heel, wobbled a little, and walked to his circle.
Sean concentrated on not weaving as he took up his position opposite Acilius. More bad luck. Acilius was good, and his partner, Clemens, facing Viggo in the ring beside them, was better. Sean tried to pull his scattered attention and delayed reactions together and concentrate. He had to hold out long enough against Acilius for Viggo to finish off Clemens. Then Viggo could handle Acilius easily and Sean could go home and sleep it off. He dreaded the headache he was going to have tomorrow.
He took up his stance and waited for the fight to commence.
Viggo knew Clemens. He knew his weaknesses. They had been watching Acilius and Clemens for some time, now, expecting to face them. Himself and Sean, Acilius and Clemens - the best pair of pairs in the city, Viggo had thought at the time, watching Clemens' skills with a blade with professional respect.
Now all Viggo wanted to do was kill him. Quickly and efficiently.
And the damn man was evading all Viggo's best moves. It was taking too long. Because for the first time ever in this arena, the world had refused to narrow down to the two blades. His mind was wandering. He had to force himself not to look for Sean. He swung his blade nervously as he circled Clemens again.
Then he saw his opening and took it.
Done. The deed was done. Clemens was bleeding out in the sand, and Viggo didn't have to divide his attention anymore.
Viggo whirled and leapt, and landed ready to fight in Sean's circle just in time to see Acilius' blade swoop under Sean's unsteady defenses. The blade came away bloody, and Viggo could only watch in shock as Sean sank to his knees, left hand pressed to his wound.
Then Acilius did something no arena slave of his experience should have done.
He failed to strike the killing blow. As he turned to face Viggo, Sean lunged to his feet. His sword took Acilius below the ribs. The blow was through the lung to the heart, and Acilius was dead before he hit the ground.
The crowd was screaming and stomping and chanting, and all Viggo could see was Sean, standing on unsteady legs, looking down at his left hand, and parts of himself that should never see the light of day.
Viggo ran and caught him before he could collapse.
The arena priest came to them. Placed the laurels on them. Gave them the gold that was the prize for the fight. And began the prayers for the dead.
The Mysteries of the Next Life
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Much applause :)
And please write more ...... soon!!!!!!!!!
I love the destriptions of Viggo waking with Sean and the torture of being so close, yet so far away *sigh*
*goes off to find suitable gladiator sytle icon*
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Sorry. Didn't mean to leave you mid sentence. I hit save the instant I heard the bedroom door open. The dangers of writing on the sly.
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More please! *blows kisses*
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The sleep/burrow scene was just so sweetly sensual and full of stolen delights. I loved it! But ARGH! Poison! Bad! Viggo couldn't concentrate on the fight and couldn't fight faster and Sean got skewered in some form or fashion and YOU JUST LEAVE US THERE! Sean with blood and guts and YOU JUST LEAVE US THERE!
*mutter-gripe-whiiiiiiiiiiiine*
Will you take bribes? ^_^
And you might be screwed...
Re: And you might be screwed...
And I did offer bribes. :D You can have Karl...you had Sean and look what ya gone and done to him. Bruised, bloody, and beaten. Wait...that sounds like the majority of his movies...demmit!
Take your time though...I'll be here...waiting...waxing on and consoling myself with the fact that you have +3 and +5 and this is a Sean/Viggo so you can't just maim/kill him completely and leave Viggo alone. I might have to hunt you down if you did. *cuddles wounded Sean and angsty Viggo* I think I'll go reread the burrow scene. Awwwwwwwww.
And I LIKE the name Arena. It just seems to fit, at least with what I've read so far.
Re: And you might be screwed...
Yeah, I spoiled my own story, didn't I, by being so lazy with the navigation...
You will be amused to know that I actually had a medical advisor on the next chapter. :)
Did you see that I took your name in vain yesterday? (See comments on "Closing," if you missed it.)
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*eg*
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You can't stop there!!!
It's OK
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Reality squick
Oh, no! Attack of the reality squick! *snortle* I have a terrible one myself. There are several points in my story that could set of a squick, but I thought I had shrugged this one off by acknowledging the mistake within the story. *sticks tongue out at you*
My biggest reality squick, and one I just chose to ignore... Damn. I don't want to say here. I'll spoil later chapters...
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