Patrick Stump Imagines/oneshots

Centuries (fluff)

'Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries'

This is gonna be like an AU story set during the 'Centuries' video so in Roman times hah

I hope you guys wanna hear stuff like this!

Enjoy!

~•~•~•~•~

Your father had arranged another gladiator match for you to go and watch. You didn't mind them but there's much better things you'd rather do like rude your horse or do some crafts. Being the daughter of an emperor, you were quite skilled in iron and steelwork, often making some of thr swords that featured in the fights.

Walking down the steps from the highest point, persued by your guards, you, your mother and your father all found your seats as the crowd erupted in applause when they caught sight of you. You didn't mind being a princess but sometimes you wished you could have an ordinary life although that was tough in Rome.

You all took your seats and looked out over the Colosseum, at the many heads of your people, at the sandy floor of the empty stadium. You had witnessed many lives being lost in this structure bur you were used to that, having grown up with the glorification of death and violence. It no longer bothered you. Plus all the people that had been thrown into the pit had been criminals.

Usually you were introduced to the victims before hand but you hadn't been today and you weren't sure how many people wouod be fighting today.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the audience as four men were pushed harshly out onto the sand below. Everyone booed loudly when they saw them. You leant forwards to see them. They looked the usual type of people that were made to fight. Despite the distance, you couod see their faces quite clearly.

One caught your eye, a man with light brown hair, in bronze body armour and red leathers. He looked terrified, but then again they all did, although he did have a look of determination in his face.

Then a roar of cheers lifted from the crowd as the favourite gladiator walked confidently into the arena, his arms out, absorbing the praise that was radiating from the viewers. You recognised him from earlier matches. He had never lost a game (obviously).

Silence fell again as the contestants prepared to fight, no weapons, just barehand and sticks. You preferred these kind of fights, Cestus - an unarmed boxing matches. Cestus fights were your favourite because they were often the least bloody.

The announcer shouted, "tre... due... uno..." and another cheer grew as one of the men who had a beard and brown leathers, ran at the gladiator. With a small kick, the man was laying flat on his back, clearly winded by the intense impact from his sandal to his stomach.

There was a collective wince before another cheer. Your father laughed heartily and so did your mother, even you managed a small smile.

The gladiator then turned to another of the men, one in a black leather neck brace who decided to advance bur was stopped by a grab to his throat. He attempted a few feeble punches but the larger man simply threw him backwards to the ground.

You saw the man in the bronze body armour tense and raise his fists to protect his face as he ran towards the gladiator. Judging by the anger in his face, these other people were his friends and he wanted revenge. Straightening up in your seat for a better view, you prayed to the Gods that he wouldn't be badly hurt, something about him intrigued you and if he survived the fight you wanted to see him afterwards.