The Blood of a Warrior

Chapter Four

That night I dreamt.

I usually don't.

But when I do, they're never just dreams.

They're flashbacks. Painful ones.

In the first few minutes before it begins, I'm fully aware. And, usually, I wonder what memory it will be this time.

As the darkness fades, I hear a faint murmuring. My brain immediately recognizes it as the crowd before a fight, but I'm in the crowd, instead of in the fighter's cell like I normally am.

Another sensation appears. Soft, velvety cloth beneath my fingers, a warm body with it. A thick, musky scent hangs in the air, like some sort of cologne.

It's The Ringmaster. I'm curled up in his lap, burrowed against his chest. His red cape is pulled around me, and I'm clutching a stuffed dog with black fur. Shade. I still had the dog, hidden away in my cell. I took him everywhere with me until I was eleven.

I look down at the dog, and notice how small my hands are. I couldn't be much older than seven or eight in this memory.

I turn, and see my mother sitting next to us. Her long blond hair is loose, flowing down to her shoulders in golden waves. She notices me looking at her, and smiles at me, deep green eyes sparkling. She reaches over and ruffles my hair. It falls in my face and brush it out of the way, laughing.

I feel The Ringmaster chuckle, and I burrow closer, looking up at him.

He smiles. "Are you excited?" he asks, and I nod vigorously.

I turn my attention back to The Arena floor, where a man is being shoved into the middle, a blade being pressed into his hand.

"Look," The Ringmaster says to me, pointing to a cell door on the side of The Arena. I follow his gaze, and emerging from the door is my father, standing tall and proud, his black hair falling down to his shoulders. He turns to me and smiles as the helper hands him a blade.

The Ringmaster nudges me softly, murmuring something to my mother. I clamber down from his lap and go to my mother, sitting next to her and snuggling against her side. She pulls me closer, an arm rested on my shoulders.

The Ringmaster stands, and gives the introductions. He pulls the white handkerchief from the folds of his cape and lifts it high above his head. I watch as it flutters to the ground. Commotion from The Arena floor draws my attention to it. My father has the other man in a chokehold, blade digging into his side. I cheer for him, fists pumping the air. My mother laughs at my excitement, but she is quickly distracted by my father crying out in pain.

The other man had two fistfulls of black hair in his grip, and my father was on his knees, two bald patches on either side of his head, leaking blood. He had dropped his knife, and the other man was raising his. I screamed to father, trying to warn him, and my mother did the same.

He looked up, but it was too late.

The blade came down. Again. And again. And again.

When it stopped, there was nothing left of my father's face. Just a churned mass of flesh and blood, riddled with holes.

I was screaming, so loud my voice shattered. Tears were streaming down my face as I clung to my mother, but she slipped from my grasp as she stood up, trying to run to my father, screaming his name. When she moved, I fell from the seat.

I lay where I had fallen, cling to Shade, silent sobs racking my tiny body.

I felt someone pick me up. It was The Ringmaster. He was holding me against his chest, stroking my hair, trying to calm me, but tears were sliding down his own face, and his voice was hoarse.

I tried calling for my mother, but I could barely manage a faint squeak.

And then everything began to fade, and the dream was over.

I bolted upright in my bed, shaking violently. I was in a cold sweat.

I quickly glanced to see if Ariana had been awoken by anything, as I would sometimes talk or even scream in my sleep, but she was sound asleep.

Silently, I leaned over the edge of my bed and opened one of the drawers. Reaching around, I found what I was looking for.

A stuffed dog with black fur. Shade. He seemed tiny in my hands now.

I lay back down, holding Shade as close as possible, and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

I slept in that morning.

I always do after flashbacks.

When I did wake up, though, my food had gone cold.

I wasn't hungry anyway.

On my way back from the kitchens, I ran into Nathan. He was starting to grow a beard.

"We're having a Lord of the Rings marathon today. Want to join?" He was grinning from ear to ear. A true LOTR fan, clearly.

"If I ever answer that question with 'no', kill me. I'll be too far gone for help."

He laughed. "Well come on! They're starting already!"

As he grabbed my wrist, I noticed a glint of gold on his finger. I stopped and pulled his hand closer. Momentary panic showed in his eyes.

He didn't trust me yet.

I didn't really care.

But I was right. That golden glint was a wedding ring.

I pulled my head up to face him. "You're married?"

He looked away sheepishly. "Yes," he mumbled.

"Who's the lucky woman?"

He sighed. "His name is Shaun."

I was slightly slightly startled. "Oh. Sorry, my mistake. I just assumed you were married to a woman."

"It's okay. Most people do, considering it's only legal in sixteen states. Shaun and I married four years ago, when we still lived in Iowa. We were one of the first couples to marry after they legalized it."

I paused, processing what he had just said. "Wait. Why is it illegal in 34 states? There's no reason for it to not be legal."

Nathan sighed. "It's because most politicians are bible thumpers and will come up with any dumbass reason to get the entire country to believe what they do because 'It's the word of God and all must follow it' or some shit like that."

I stared at him, trying to decide if he was serious or not. When he didn't start laughing, I realized that he was truly serious.

I rubbed my temples, trying to wrap my mind around the stupidity of this country's leaders. "Tell me. Why are we basing laws off of a religion that not everyone follows?"

Nathan threw up his hand. "I don't fucking know! People seem to think lesser of us just because we like our own gender. I was seriously considering moving to Canada before being hauled in here."

 "Well I can assure you know one will think lesser of you here. And If they do, I'll do the gene pool a favour and rip out their reproductive organs."

He laughed, and seemed to relax.

"Come one. Let's not miss the opening of Fellowship."

As he grabbed my hand and hauled me into the common room, I realized he trusted more.

Cool.