Maximus looked at the shining man in front of him. His army was heavy, but white. Pure white. It almost blinded him. Almost. He looked down at his own meager armor. It was not grand, nor dazzling like Commodus's. It was a plain black, giving meager protection. Commodus raises his arms to acknowledge the cheering of the crowds, but they both knew they cheering was for Maximus.
He looked back at his life. He glanced at the boy, the boy who was only a servant. So poor that he had to beg for food. He watched the boy rise. He watched him become a general. He watched him fall in love with his wife. He watched him court her, win her. He watched her giving birth to their son.
He fought off tears as he watched his boy take his first steps. He smiled when he saw Lucilla for the first time, and frowned when he saw a younger dark-haired Commodus. Commodus looked menacing, like a caged tiger. He watched as he became the son-of-sorts to the Emperor. He watched Commodus grow into a young man, cried when he realized that Commodus was not his brother, as they'd promised years ago.
He wept when he saw his Father die. He wept harder when he realized Commodus killed him. He watched the man race against the desert, in a futile attempt to save his family. He watched him bury his family. He saw him sold as a slave. He watched grow stronger, make friends. He watched him kill enemies, become the best gladiator, a favorite. He watched him reveal himself to Commodus, and openly defy him.
He watched Lucilla talk. He saw him fall in love with her. He watched him talk to her son, Lucius. He cried when he saw Cicero, his faithful servant, die. He watched his friends die, one by one. He watched them all die for him, only for him to get captured. He winced when Commodus stabbed him. He came back to the moment. He watched himself watch Commodus in his brilliant armor.
Maximus hefted his sword, and prepared for The End.