Slight influence from the Gladiator movie.

Warning: Fight scene, deaths, blood.

A fanfare of trumpets sounded throughout the colosseum.

"People of Rome, thanks to the generosity of his highness Lucius Aurelius Commodus, we are proud to present to you the one and only CELT!" The announcer called out receiving a deafening cheer and thunderous applause from the thousands of Romans who gathered in the arena.

The gates opened to the subterranean labyrinth that lay under the main stage where you had been waiting. The smell of blood and sand filled your senses, as you ascended the ramp putting on your helmet to cover your features. Finally stepping foot into the arena your heart began to pound, the sheer size of the arena was like nothing you'd ever seen before, the heat and noise were overwhelming, but you had no time to concern yourself with such things, you had to concentrate on the kill. No matter how many opponents they sent after you they must all fall by your sword. A little more money and you could buy your freedom, no more blood, no more death.

As you neared the centre of the arena to face the emperor's box, a chant of "CELT! CELT! CELT!" erupted from the masses. You dropped to a knee and prayed to your gods and ancestors that you would survive this fight. Rising to your feet you bowed to the emperor and saluted him.

Apprehensively you swung your gladius through the air loosening the muscles in preparation for what was to come. Another fanfare grabbed your attention as it rang out before the announcer introduced your opponents.

"And to take on the great Celt we present Atticus of Gaul, Severus of Hispania, Ursinus of Germanica, and Philo of Africa." Each man stepped into the arena as they were announced.

You watched the men, sizing up their abilities and weaknesses. The German and the African were large and looked slow, too well built for their own good, it would make them harder to kill but you could use their size against them; the more you made them work to kill you the quicker they would wear themselves out, and it would slow them down.

The Gaul would be quicker, he was taller and more slender than the other three; he seemed to be less experienced than the rest of them, there was a nervousness about him which would make him second guess himself, he would be the first to fall you told yourself.

The Hispanic was calmer than the others, less demonstrative. He was more like you, cool and relaxed despite the riot of noise and colour that surrounded you.

As the men came closer to you, you take note of their positions, and the announcer spoke again.

"The Celt will take on the four challengers to the death, whoever wins will be given their freedom by the emperor himself."

Freedom without having to buy it, this was your opportunity to be rid of this life.

The emperor waved to the crowd as another cheer went around the arena, "CELT! CELT! CELT!" You raised your gladius into the air and turned around slowly saluting the crowd before facing the emperor again.

'WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE SALUTE YOU!' The five of you in the arena spoke in unison.

'Blood for freedom! Blood for freedom! Blood for freedom!' The mantra went around and around in your head.

Then the fight was on, before the Gaul could move you crouched down and swung your leg out taking his legs out from under him causing him to fall backwards; you pounced, quickly thrusting your sword into the large muscles in his legs, causing him to scream out in pain; it didn't matter how agile he was if he couldn't use his legs.

The African rushed you, trying to knock you over, you dodged out of his way bringing your elbow to the back of his head causing him to stumble and fall heavily to the ground face first. Racing over to him you plunged your sword into his skull, you could feel the bone drag against your blade as you removed it, the open wound drenching you in blood; though you had no care, a little more blood and you would be free.

The German pushed the Hispanic out of the way and began to swing his gladius wildly at your head forcing you to back away. You flew under his arms and ran past the Hispanic pushing him with all your might to the ground. The thundering sound of the German attempting to chase after you filled your ears as you drowned out the sound of the crowd. His breathing was becoming laboured, his bulky frame causing him problems.

As he drew closer you ran up to the wall surrounding the stage, leaping up onto it using it to help you springboard over him as you came down digging your sword into his neck severing the artery. He fell to the floor with you on top of him, you pulled out a dagger from your belt and thrust it into his heart; all of your limbs were now covered in blood as the warm crimson liquid squirted from his neck. The crowd screamed in delight as the blood seeped into the sand covered floor.

You moved slowly back over to the Gaul, still keeping your eyes on the Hispanic; crouching down behind the stricken man you put your sword to his throat and with one smooth motion you dispatched him. You picked up the Gaul's sword and twirled the two blades in your hands.

"Just you and me now Hispanic, and I can assure you that I don't intend to lose to you." You growled at the man before you. He pulled off his helmet, his steely grey eyes staring into yours, as you circled one another never moving your eyes from his.

"I've heard of you Celt; they say that it cost the emperor a lot of money to bring you here. All that money just to watch you die!"

The Hispanic thrust his gladius at your head, the blade gliding across the cheek of your helmet. As his energy carried him forward you sidestep and cracked the back of his skull with the flat of your sword with force. The stupid man should never have taken off his helmet you thought to yourself. And seeing as the emperor had paid so much for you to be here you might as well put on a show. The Hispanic glared at you as a smug grin formed on your face.

"You'll have to do better than that Hispanic."

"BARBARIAN!" He screamed out.

Good! An angry man is easier to beat, less rational, more likely to forget their training, more likely to make mistakes you thought to yourself, and sure enough you were right.

He came out swinging wildly, his sword flying from side to side. You threw yourself backwards flipping over and over from your feet to your hands, from your hands to your feet. As the audience cheered enthusiastically at your athleticism; the Hispanic stood frozen to the spot momentarily taken aback by your movements. You found yourself by the African's sword which you picked up and hurled at your opponent like a spear. He ducked, dodging the blade, but his stance was now open wide and there was enough room for you to slide through. You ran at full speed towards your opponent, dropping down you slid between his legs slicing through his femoral artery. He dropped to his knees as a gasp went up from the crowd, as you looked up to emperor for approval for your final kill. With a nod of his head you retrieved your second sword and faced your opponent.

"Thank you for my freedom Hispanic." With that you plunged both swords into his chest and his body fell limp.

You stood in the middle of the arena desperately trying to control your breathing, your eyes stung as blood and sweat pooled in them. The chant began to rise from the crowd, now louder than ever. "CELT! CELT! CELT! CELT!" Suddenly you found yourself surrounded by the praetorian guard, their commander stepping forward.

"The emperor wishes to meet you gladiator." You nodded. "I am at the emperors service."

With that a cheer went up as the emperor entered the arena. The guard's parted, and the emperor strode up to you.

"Well Celt, I must say you were well worth the money I paid to have you here, the show you gave will be celebrated as one of the greatest of the games. Will you not remove your helmet and show everyone who you are?"

You bowed your head and reluctantly removed your helmet, your long black braided hair falling down your back. Commodus looked at you as a large grin spread across his features.

"A woman? THE CELT IS A WOMAN!" Commodus shouted out to the crowd, as he moved closer and took your chin in his hand.

"And a very beautiful one at that my dear. What is your name?" Commodus asked, his green eyes staring into yours.

"My name is (Y/n), daughter of king Ventius of the Brigantes your Highness."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, and not only a woman but a warrior and princess. This fight was for your freedom was it not my dear?" He asked as you nodded respectfully.

"Good! You will be my guest at the palace tonight, there will be a feast in your honour. There you will receive your freedom; and my lady, I will have an interesting proposition to put to you." He said as he took your hand and kissed your blooded knuckles.

"GRACCHUS!" The emperor shouted out, as the commander of the praetorian stepped forward.

"Your highness?"

"Have this beautiful woman taken to the palace, she is to be taken care of, and given all the courtesies as befits a princess. She is to be my guest at the festivities tonight." Commodus said, as Gracchus bowed.

"Until tonight Celt." With one more gentle kiss to your hand the emperor disappeared.

>>-------------------------------<<

It had been hours since she had left the dust and noise of the arena, she had been gently washed and scrubbed so that no trace of dirt or blood was left. Slaves had milled around her, curling and pining her hair up into the latest style, a light dusting of makeup was added to her cheeks, eyes and lips.

"My lady!" A small voice came from behind he; she turned to find a young girl holding out a gown towards her.

"The emperor has asked that you wear this for tonight's feast."

She took the material in my hands; it was as red as the blood that had spilled on the colosseum's floor; and served to remind her of what she would be leaving behind. The material was so soft, she had never felt it's like; she was used to rough wool, whether in Britannia or Rome, as a warrior or gladiator, she wore trousers and tunics, never needing to wear anything like this.

She looked up at the slave girls. "I do not know how to wear such a thing." (Y/n) told them.

The girls giggled, hiding their smiles behind their hands. "But you are a lady, how can a lady not know how to wear a stola?" One of them asked.

She stood up, glaring down at the girl. "I am a Celt, a warrior and a gladiator; I have never had the need or desire for such things."

She watched as the girl cowered slightly. "My apologies, I am not used to dealing with women. If you could show me how to wear it, I would very much appreciate it."

The girls scurried around helping her on with the gown, attaching the fibulae at the shoulders to hold it in place. Golden jewellery was then placed around her neck and adorned her ears.

"You look beautiful enough to be an empress my lady." An older woman said as she dotted perfume around her neck.

Suddenly two guards pushed their way into the room.

"Gladiator, we are here to take you before the Emperor." One of the guards called out as the maids scampered around trying to push them back out of the door.

"Gladiator or not, she is a lady, and you should never just barge into a lady's room. She will be out when she is good and ready." The older woman told the guards as she pushed them out the door.

"He may very well be the Emperor, but a lady must take her time to look as beautiful as she can for her man." The older woman said, as she looked over at her.

"No.... I mean, the Emperor....... he's not, I mean, he's not......." The women chuckled at the pink glow that took over (Y/n)'s cheeks.

"You may not think so, but the Emperor has not been able to talk about anything other than you since he got back from the games. If I didn't know better, I would say that our young Highness is smitten."

After a few more finishing touches, the older woman threw open the doors and addressed the guards. "Now she is ready to be taken to the emperor." She said as she walked out towards them.

>>---------------------------------<<

The celebration was in full swing as the guards led her to the festivities, all eyes turning to see the emperors guest as she came into the room; she was used to being the centre of attention when she was in the arena, when she was surrounded by blood and death, but this was different, this was personal. Never before had the eyes of the people been so close, close enough that she could read every emotion.

An uncharacteristic nervousness flooded her body as she followed the guards; she had fought in numerous battles, and nearly died more than once, yet none of that had ever made her feel this way. At this very moment in time she would give anything to be back in the arena, sword in hand, facing any opponent imaginable.

"Ah (Y/n), you look utterly breathtaking in that gown, as I knew you would." Said a cool voice from behind her.

As she turned, she came face to face with the young Emperor; shocked momentarily she regained her composure and fell to her knee.

"Please forgive me your Highness" She said as she took his hand and kissed the ring on his finger.

Commodus chuckled softly and pulled her to her feet. "There is no reason for such formality my dear, you are my guest of honour, the way you fought in that arena today was nothing short of spectacular, I don't think I have ever seen another gladiator that could possibly rival you. From now on you will address me as Commodus, and I will address you as mine." He said, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her heart began to beat wildly as he pulled her close. "I told you that I would have a proposition for you (Y/n)." Commodus whispered in her ear.

Before she could say anything, Commodus address the crowd.

"We are all here today to celebrate the victory of Rome's newest, and possibly greatest gladiator, she has not only shown her prowess in the arena but also on the battlefield, and even though we are here to grant her, her manumission , I have a proposition to put to her." He told everyone as he turned to face her.

"(Y/n), daughter of king Ventius of the Brigantes, I wish to appoint you as my personal bodyguard, and protector of the emperor." Commodus said, as once again as all eyes fell on her, waiting for her response.

She could do nothing but look in his eyes. She had been waiting this long to stop killing, but in truth it was the only thing she knew; what else would she do? There was no possibility of her having, what others would see as a normal life, she wouldn't know how; and to be this close to the emperor day in and day out would not be the worst thing she had ever faced. She had never been this close to a man that she wasn't expected to fight, or kill, and for it to be the handsome emperor, filled her with a strange curiosity that had her interested piqued.

"It would be my pleasure to protect the body of the Emperor, your Highness." She said, as he took her hand.

"Oh, you will protect my body (Y/n), and I will worship yours." Commodus said in a hushed tone that sent shivers down her spine.

As he pulled her to sit beside him, the Pileus, that he had given her on her lap, she caught his eye. Freedom was one thing, but the opportunities this new life with the emperor could present were greater than anything she could imagine.

A/N:  Manumissio, which translates as "sending out for the hand" was the freeing of a slave.

A Pileus was a felt cap given to a former slave as a symbol of manumission.

Gladiators rarely fought to the death, as they were expensive and took too long to train to waste them by killing them in the arena.

And finally, the 'We who are about to die salute you' bit is pure Hollywood. It looks good in the movies. 😊