I was in a coliseum. My brother and I were gladiators. We had entered a tournament together. The arena was already flooded with blood. The only smells were that of sweat and death. It was the final round, and only two fighters were left standing, me and my brother.
The whole ring was filled, for it was a ring of fate. All the seats had been taken and the crowd was lively; roaring like lions, deafening like thunder. The crowd was an ancient form of Judge, Jury and Executioner.
The Emperor sat in his chair, His power radiating off him like light oozes off the sun. His eyes are boring into me, like daggers. Just when I thought I would have to look away from his penetrating glare, his eyes swiveled to the right and the glare changes to a look of excitement and a smile appears on his cruel, thin lips. I turn to see what he was looking at, and my heart sunk to the deepest pit of Hell.
There stood my brother. Every inch of my mind is screaming at me to refuse to fight but this was a fight to the death, which meant if I refused to fight then my brother would have to kill me anyway. It would practically be an execution. I would never put my brother through such Hell.
I stare at my brother. A bell is rung, the sign to start fighting; the symbol of death. We were both armed with a spear, a sword, a shield and a dagger. We also had cheap armour. We start the fight with our spears, circling each other. Then, my brother makes a jab at me with his spear. I raise my shield in defense, realizing at the last minute it was a trick. I watch as the spear changes course and heads straight for my ribs. Having no choice, I shove my spear into the other spear’s path. My brother’s spear is thrown off course, but at a sacrifice. Due to the collision of the two spears, my spear has shattered.
Cursing my broken spear under my breath, I unsheathe my sword. My brother is already coming at me again, but I stand my ground. Standing completely still, I wait till the very last second possible, then I jump to the side and swing my sword through the space where I had just been standing, swinging it like an axe. My brother’s spear was helpless as my sword swung on top of it, shattering it.
Suddenly, a sharp pain fills my side; a massive splinter (a third of the length of the spear) has pierced my side. I drop my sword, gasping. I see my brother charging at me, so I turn and run for my life. Suddenly I find myself falling. I have stumbled over the remains of my spear. I can see my brother leaping at me. No time to think, I draw my dagger, holding it in front of me, my only protection. I close my eyes, waiting for the burning pain of death to begin.
It doesn’t come. I open my eyes. My brother lies dead stabbed through the heart by my dagger. I can hear the crowd cheering, I see the Emperor smiling. I am filled with remorse, guilt but mostly anger. Why are these people happy about having just watched me become my brother’s murderer? I notice the Emperor has just started laughing. Now I’m fuming. I go to my brother, draw his dagger and throw it at the emperor.
It pierces the Emperor’s throat. Now he is as good as dead. Shouts and cries fill the Coliseum. Soldiers are closing in on me on all sides, all wanting one thing: me dead.
As a final act of Martyrdom I pull my dagger out of my brother’s heart, and put it in my own.