CHAPTER 1

His chest glistened with water droplets dribbling down the glowing bronze skin. Resting, his strong muscular back against the rocks on the lake side, head lulled backwards, onyx eyes closed in utter salvation. "Your spying on me is utterly useless young tulip." Ink eyes opened, resting upon my little frame making me freeze. "What are you thinking? You have got this one chance....run away." He offered his eyes watching my each and every movement like a hawk. "I am a prisoner sire, I have heard stories....tales of how war prisoners are mercilessly butchered if they are caught and I can't afford to die....not yet...I have someone to feed and I will do anything for them." "Anything?" He asked in eerily calm voice. I nodded slowly a lump forming in my throat as my eyes glistened with tears with the scenes of men using my eighteen year body flashed infront of me making me tremble. Water splashed around as he rose to his full height inside the lagoon, his eyes solely focused on me, his feet moving forward, closing our distance altogether. "Azarios" I stiffened, my eyes snapping to his in utter surprise as I heard the name leaving his plump lips. His identity, the name which echoed throughout the dynasty making every living soul shudder. Killer Commander Beast He was the commander of Gladiators. Azarios, the Gladiator of Ambrose. "You will be the bride of mine." Prologue Heavens were weeping as cerulean sky withered and crumbled like golden dust under the weight of war that had been going on since half a decade. Vermilion blood with it's quintessence not much thicker than water flowed like rivers as soldiers massacred one another washing their tainted hands in the sacred pools of water turning them red, dead bodies floating like fallen maple leaves of autumn in lagoons. The nature endured most painful scars but the battle of lands didn't ceased between Garein and Ambrose empires. Slaves and war prisoners captured were bought in the chief houses of ministers and rich merchants as bonded labours and among them was a slave....Azarios, brought in the king's manor for polishing shoes and cleaning floors and above all for entertainment. For becoming a Gladiator. They were fighters who fought in duals at the magnanimous pits of death infront of the nobles until one of them was killed and other left the grounds, victorious, only to be called again for fighting with different fighter next time. It wasn't a game...it was survival for the last man standing. It was a place where humans were butchered for laughs and fun and solace sacrificed for jingling of coins collected to see the fight. But war bought new rules...no warrior would fight for entertainment, only for nation. A nation Azarios knew nothing of. A nation which made him clean boots of destroyers and offenders. Instead he cleaned the names of the people challenging his power and authority from the Dynasty forever and ever. His parents had begged the guards not to take him away but the tax had to be paid and the bait was him, a boy of twelve seasons filled with nothing but starvation and memories of violence. He had learned how to keep his mouth sealed and eyes wide open, his mind working with the speed of lightning as he climbed up the ranks excruciating slow so not to come under the direct gaze of the King...yet. He recalled being taught kindness by his mother and valour by his father both values he concentrated so deep in his core with time that not an ounce of it seeped through his barricade armor of a commander general. A small, previously unimportant part of history changed the history itself, writing it with the blank ink of the coal of his own shackles he became the beast of Ambrose. But it wasn't enough. Until revenge was served on a gold leaf....it would never be enough. Although he was burning with the ice-cold hatred for the nobles in the court of King Alexander, they had a completely different overview of him. He was the most potential suitor for the marriage with the graceful and most enchanting maidens of Ambrose yet he wasn't interested. It wasn't that they were not beautiful but Azarios didn't carve beauty, neither it was that they were obnoxious and high-headed brats who didn't know a single art, many of the women were elegant, kind and masters of different talents but his heart yearned for none. He respected them and that was it and when they knew his interest, they respected it as well......some of them did while others saw him as a quest and could not stop even if the universe alters its creations. Walk like a lady....with your head bowed. A man always has a choice. Women should learn how to stand quite and look pretty. You are not meant to have an opinion. Those were the qualities instilled in the women of Ambrose and he hated how every girl he met was broken into the shell of something they were not. It made him withdraw from court and society more and more, appearing only for important assembly of King's Generals. He wanted to find a women with such strong spirit who would break the spines of idiots spluttering indecent words and not think once before beheading him for being insulting. Azarios wished to drink molten elixir in the form of someone who set his soul on fire of passion and drove his mind on the verge of insanity yet their presence more peaceful than lullaby of nature's breeze. A small straw with white flower at it's end was twirled by her dainty fingers. Today had been one of the most tedious day of her life. Nectarous honey eyes watched the sun setting with a pout on her face. Its ochre colour reminding her of apricots in lush green gardens of Garein for which she jumped on her feet and climbed trees. Those luscious fruits were for her to devour. She rested her back at the enormous apple tree resting without a care in the world. Cool breeze made her chocolate hair blow like serene grass bending with the breeze. She was calm....in serenity until the snapping of a twig made her head snap towards the intruder. Her body froze as she looked at golden eyes similar to hers staring at her soul. She would have admired the majestic creature if it wasn't for the fear that started seizing her in it's clutches. A black Asiatic Lion gazed into her skull, it's paws moving on their own accord slowing stalking towards her. She got up in alarm partially with fear but mostly followed by rage that how come she didn't sensed a presence near. She was going to climb up the tree but the weak roar and the creature's unwillingness to attack stopped her feet. He sniffed her coming close, his height paralling her and yet somehow surpassing her standing at 5'4 feet as he collapsed at her feet whimpering. An arrow with his blood dripping down was embedded in his back making her step closer weaving her fingers through his mane. "Aren't we both same? So close to power yet so far away." Unaware of the world, they were different and yet alike, just like yin and yang meant to be flawed but strikingly perfect in presence of one another.