A little bit of everything Multi Fandom Imagines

Commodus and the Celt

"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.