#Claudius Character Study

[theiinkwiitch]

[Tag dump... Again... Save me.]

[hamletthedane]

Hamlet’s Age

Not to bring up an age-old debate that doesn’t even matter, but I have been thinking recently how interesting Hamlet’s age is both in-text and as meta-text.

To summarize a whole lot of discussion, we basically only have the following clues as to Hamlet’s age:

Hamlet and Horatio are both college students at Wittenberg. In Early Modern/Late Renaissance Europe, noble boys typically began their university education at 14 and usually completed at their Bachelor’s degree by 18 or 19. However, they may have been studying for their Master’s degrees, which was typically awarded by age 25 at the latest. For reference, contemporary Kit Marlowe was a pretty late bloomer who received a bachelor’s degree at 20 and a master’s degree at 23.

Hamlet is AGGRESSIVELY described as a “youth” by many different characters - I believe more than any other male shakespeare character (other than 16yo Romeo). While usage could vary, Shakespeare tended to use “youth” to mean a man in his late teens/very early 20s (actually, he mostly uses it to describe beardless ‘men’ who are actually crossdressing women - likely literally played by young men in their late teens)

King Hamlet is old enough to be grey-haired, but Queen Gertrude is young enough to have additional children (or so Hamlet strongly implies)

Hamlet talks about plucking out the hairs of his beard, so he is old enough to at least theoretically have a beard

In the folio version, the gravedigger says he became a gravedigger the day of Hamlet’s birth, and that he’s be “sixteene here, man and boy, thirty years.” However, it’s unclear if “sixteene” means “sixteen” or “sexton” (ie has he worked here for 16 years but is 30 years old, or has he been sexton there for thirty years?)

Hamlet knew Yorick as a young child, and the gravedigger says Yorick was buried 23 years ago. However, the first quarto version version of Hamlet says “dozen years” instead of “three and twenty.” This suggests the line changed over time. (Or that the bad quarto sucks - I really need to make that post about it, huh…)

Yorick is a skull, and according to the gravedigger’s expertise, he has thus been dead for at least 7-8 years - implying Hamlet is at least ~15yo if he remembers Yorick from his childhood

One important thing sometimes overlooked - Claudius takes the throne at King Hamlet’s death, not Prince Hamlet. That is mostly a commentary on English and French monarchist politics at the time, but it is strange within the internal text. A thirty year old Hamlet presumably would have become the new monarch, not the married-in uncle (unless Gertrude is the vehicle through which the crown passes a la Mary I/Phillip II - certainly food for thought)

Honestly, Hamlet is SO aggressively described as being very young that I’m fairly confident the in-text intention is to have him be around 18-23yo. Placing his age at 30yo simply does not make much sense in the context of his descriptors, his narrative role, and his status as a university student.

However, it doesn’t really matter what the “right” answer is, because the confusion itself is what makes the gravedigger scene so interesting and metatextual. We can basically assume one of the following, given the folio text:

Hamlet really is meant to be 30yo, and that was supposed to surprise or imply something to the contemporary audience that is now lost to us

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was written down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text justification of the seeming disconnect between age of actor and description of “youth”

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was set down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text JOKE making fun of the fact that a 30-something year old is playing a high-school aged boy. This makes sense, as the gravedigger is a clown and Hamlet is a play that constantly pokes fun at its own tropes and breaks the fourth wall for its audience

The gravedigger cannot count or remember how old he is, and that’s the joke (this is the most common modern interpretation whenever the line isn’t otherwise played straight). If the clown was, for example, particularly old, those lines would be very funny

Any way you look at it, I believe something is echoing there. It seems like this is one of the many moments in Hamlet where you catch a glimpse of some contemporary in-joke about theater and theater culture* that we can only try to parse out from limited context 430 years later. And honestly, that’s so interesting and cool.

*(My other favorite example of this is when Hamlet asks Polonius about what it was like to play Julius Caesar in an exchange that pokes fun of Polonius’ actor a little. This is clearly an inside-joke directed at Globe regulars - the actor who played Polonius must have also played Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s play, and been very well reviewed. Hamlet’s joke about Brutus also implies the actor who played Brutus is one of the main cast in Hamlet - possibly even the prince himself, depending on how the line is read).

[deadhellenist]

types of tagamemnon posts

- "hey did you know in (ancient greece/rome/gaul/asia minor/etc) people used to do this isn't that hilarious"

- (in response to the previous) "hey op i have a degree in greco roman studies and i'm 99% sure that's something the victorians made up"

- (a joke about worshipping hellenic dieties)

- (a not-joke about worshipping hellenic dieties)

- "please enjoy this incredibly detailed fic i made that's a spin-off of a homeric epic"

- "(character from a homeric epic) was a dilf you like you agree you reblog"

- "soooo (roman generals and or politicians, dealers choice) were definately fucking right? right?"

- (twinkified octavian/augustus)

- (in response to previous) "nooooooo you can't do that!! not to my weirdly idolized big macho man!! what would julius caesar think!!"

- (i, claudius gif)

- (percy jackson)

[pascalhowlett]

Ethereal Chapter 8

A/N: I know this is slow burn BUT I SWEAR ITS ALMOST OVER HINT HINT!!

If you prefer to read on AO3, that can be found here!

Warnings: Mentions of r*pe, implied r*pe, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, smut

Summary: After the Roman Empire takes over Numidia, Cecilia is purchased by Emperor Geta as a pawn in his attempts to take over Rome. What will happen when she meets General Marcus Acacius, the soldier who was responsible for the death of her lover, Atticus Claudius?

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Original Female Character

This is Chapter 7! Find the rest of the chapters on my Tumblr here!

Word Count: 3.4k

“Unhand me!” Cecilia’s furious, yet scared voice echoed through the stone passageway, cutting through the growing chaos of the Colosseum. She writhed against the guards’ hold, her defiance radiating like a flame. “I am the Emperor's wife, and you will let me go!”

Her words reached the ears of Geta and Caracalla, who had just descended into the passage, their faces twisted in anger and disbelief. Valerius stood nearby, his dagger still clutched in his hand, a grim satisfaction resting over his expression.

“What is this?” Caracalla demanded, his tone icy as his sharp gaze locked onto Cecilia.

“Why does the guard have my wife, Valerius?!” Geta yelled.

“She defies you, Emperor Geta!” Valerius said smoothly, bowing his head towards the brothers “I thought it prudent to detain her before her lies could spread further.”

Geta’s brow furrowed, his lips curling into a smirk as he approached Cecilia, his eyes glinting with malice. “Defies me, you say?” he drawled, circling her like a predator. “What an impressive act of courage—and stupidity. I thought you were learning to like your cage, little dove.”

Cecilia met his gaze with unyielding strength. “ I will not cower before you. You may hide behind lies and treachery, but the people will see you for what you are: a coward. A man who kills innocent soldiers and elders.”

Geta chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “You think your boldness will protect you?” He turned to Caracalla. “Brother, what shall we do with her?”

Caracalla’s jaw tightened as he studied her. “She’s not entirely wrong. Your acts have made us look like a villain.” He glanced at Valerius, his tone clipped. “You should have thought this through before pulling a dagger.”

Valerius straightened, his confidence faltering under Caracalla’s scrutiny. “She was calling for Acacius, my lord. The crowd could turn at any moment. I acted to prevent chaos.”

Caracalla sneered. “Calling for Acacius, you say?”

“Take her to the palace,” Geta suggested, his tone growing sharper. “Let her stew while we finish this business with Acacius. We’ll deal with her later.”

Cecilia’s eyes blazed with fury. “You think you can silence me? The truth will come out, no matter what you do.”

“Enough,” Caracalla snapped. He gestured to the guards. “Gag her if she continues, but don’t harm her. Not yet.”

The guards nodded, tightening their grip on Cecilia as they began to drag her away. Her eyes darted toward the arena, desperation and determination mingling in her expression.

Caracalla and Geta turned their attention back to Valerius.

“You’ve made a mess of things,” Caracalla said coldly to him. 

“I can fix it,” Valerius insisted, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

“You’d better,” Geta said with a sneer. “Because if you can’t, I’ll see to it that you take the fall instead of us.”

The three men shared a tense silence before turning their attention to the distant sound of the roaring crowd, where Acacius’s voice could still be heard, rallying the people.

“Please,” Cecilia began to beg the guards, “please, if you are soldiers of General Acacius, you will unhand me.”

The men hesitated, their grip on her arms faltering as her plea struck a chord. The name of their commander was a powerful one—Acacius had a reputation not only for his skill in battle but also for his fairness and loyalty to his men.

One of the guards, a younger soldier with uncertainty etched across his face, glanced at his companion. “What if she speaks the truth?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Enough,” barked the older guard, his jaw set. “Our orders come from the council, not Acacius. Do not let her words confuse you.”

“But Acacius is an honorable man,” Cecilia pressed, her voice rising. “You know this. Would he stand by while innocent men are executed for the whims of a corrupt council? Would he let me—a woman he trusts—be treated like this?”

The younger guard faltered further, his gaze dropping to the ground as doubt flickered in his eyes.

“Think of your oath,” Cecilia urged, her tone insistent. “You swore to protect Rome, to follow a leader who fights for justice. Acacius fights for the people, for you. Can you say the same of those who ordered you to do this?”

“Silence her!” the older guard snapped, his face reddening as his authority was challenged. He tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening.

Cecilia winced but refused to back down. “You know what’s right,” she said, locking eyes with the younger guard. “Please. Help me.”

For a moment, the younger soldier hesitated, his internal conflict clear. He opened his mouth as if to speak but was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Valerius appeared, his expression dark and impatient. “What is this delay?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You two are useless, I will make sure she has a front seat for the show.”

Cecilia’s heart sank as she was dragged forward, and shoved into Valerius’ grip. She caught the younger soldier’s eyes one last time. A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—shone there before he turned away.

Valerius leaned into her as he took her towards the center of the arena, his voice a low growl. “Nice try, Cecilia. But Acacius isn’t here to save you. You’re alone now.”

The crowd’s roar echoed through the Colosseum, an unrelenting wave of sound that threatened to drown out all thought. Acacius stood at the edge of the arena, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the stands for any sign of support—or betrayal.

But then his gaze locked onto the procession entering the arena’s center, and his heart lurched. Cecilia…

Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, and though her hands were bound, her posture was upright, defiant. She walked with measured steps beside Valerius, who held her arm in a tight grip. 

Acacius felt a surge of fury and panic. He knew this was a deliberate move—a calculated effort to dismantle him.  Valerius was parading her in front of the crowd, making her a symbol of rebellion to turn the people against him.

The crowd quieted slightly as they noticed the group approaching the center. Murmurs rippled through the stands, the name "Cecilia" or “The Empress”  passing from lip to lip.

Cecilia’s eyes searched the crowd, desperate and determined. When they found Acacius, they widened for a brief moment, her expression a mixture of relief and warning for him. 

Valerius stepped forward, raising his voice to address the crowd. “Behold the conspirators who would seek to undermine the unity of Rome!” His words carried, smooth and practiced. “Emperor Geta’s wife has conspired with General Acacius”—he gestured to Acacius—“to sow discord among our people.”

The crowd’s murmur grew louder, some jeering, others questioning. Acacius clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. His mind raced. But as his gaze lingered on Cecilia, he saw something in her eyes— a silent plea.

He couldn’t stand by.

Acacius took a step forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” he shouted, his tone firm and commanding. The crowd quieted, their eyes shifting to him.

“Empress Cecilia is no conspirator,” he continued, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within him. “She is a voice of reason, a beacon of hope for those crushed by the corruption of the council. And these men—these five—are not criminals. They are pawns in a game of greed and power.”

Valerius turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You overstep, Acacius. Will you defy the council outright now, in front of Rome? Our emperors?”

Acacius took another step forward, his voice growing stronger. “I do not defy Rome. I defend it. From men like you.”

The crowd erupted, divided between cheers and cries of outrage.

Cecilia, standing tall beside Valerius, locked eyes with Acacius. In that moment, despite the chaos around them, she felt the connection between them—an understanding that neither of them would abandon the other, no matter the cost.

Valerius shoved her to Acacius as Geta joined him in the center of the arena with the five men, a glint of pure anger in his eyes.

Acacius caught Cecilia as she stumbled, steadying her trembling body with his strong arms. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch grounding her as the chaos surged around them. Together, they stood at the center of the storm, their eyes locked on Valerius and Geta.

Geta’s smirk was a cruel slash across his face as he unsheathed his sword, the metallic ring of the blade slicing through the air. The crowd roared in anticipation, their bloodlust drowning out reason, their excitement rising to a fever pitch.

“No!” Cecilia’s voice rang out, raw with desperation. “No!”

She twisted in Acacius’s grasp, trying to lunge forward, but he held her back, his arms tightening around her. “Cecilia, don’t,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “They’ll use this against you.”

Tears streaked her face as she struggled, her voice trembling as she sobbed. “They can’t do this! They can’t win!”

“They won’t win,” Acacius murmured, his gaze fixed on Geta, who was now addressing the crowd, his sword raised high.

“These traitors,” Geta bellowed, his voice booming over the cheers as he pointed to the five men on their knees, “would have torn Rome apart with their lies and deceit! Today, we restore order and justice with their blood!”

Valerius stood beside him, his expression smug, his hands clasped as if he had already claimed victory. The five condemned men knelt, their heads bowed, their faces resigned. Manius Cato lifted his gaze briefly, meeting Cecilia’s tear-filled eyes. He smiled faintly, as if to reassure her.

The sight shattered something in her.

“No!” she cried again, her voice breaking. She turned to the crowd, her voice rising above the cacophony. “Is this your justice? Is this the Rome you want to live in—a Rome ruled by fear and treachery?”

Her words momentarily silenced some of the crowd, their jeers turning to murmurs.

Acacius continued to hold Cecilia back as she attempted to lunge forward. He raised his voice, powerful and commanding as he fought her in his grip. “These men are not traitors! They are scapegoats, sacrificed to protect the corruption that festers in the heart of the council!”

The crowd’s roars dulled into a heavy, uneasy murmur as Geta strode toward the kneeling men. The executioner's blade gleamed under the harsh sunlight, a merciless reflection of his intent.

“Enough!” Geta bellowed again, his voice filled with venom, his eyes locking on Acacius and Cecilia with a cold finality.

Cecilia’s legs gave out, and Acacius held her close, his arms a fortress around her trembling body. She sobbed into his chest, muffling the sound of her own cries as Geta moved to the first man in line.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, her fists clutching Acacius’s armor as though holding him tighter could make it stop.

Acacius stared ahead, his body tense as stone. His mind screamed for him to act, to throw himself into the fray, to save them, but he was frozen. Armed guards surrounded the arena, and any move against Geta would mean instant death for Cecilia, himself, and anyone who dared to side with them.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh filled the air, followed by a heavy thud as the first man fell. Cecilia flinched violently, her sobs growing louder. “No!” she screamed, muffled against Acacius’s chest. “Please, stop! Someone stop him!”

The crowd stood silent now, the weight of the moment pressing down on them like a suffocating fog. A few turned away, unable to watch. Others murmured in discontent, their earlier bloodlust tempered by the growing realization of the brutality unfolding before them.

Manius Cato was next. He knelt with dignity, his head held high as Emperor Geta approached. He glanced at Cecilia one last time, his expression soft.

“Do not weep for me,” he said, his voice calm, a faint smile gracing his lips. “We die for a better Rome. Remember that.”

Cecilia cried out as the blade struck, and Acacius held her tighter, his own chest heaving with restrained rage and grief. By the time the final man fell, the arena felt hollow, the air thick with unspoken condemnation. Geta turned to the crowd, raising his bloodied sword triumphantly.

“Let this be a lesson to all!” he declared. “Betray Rome, and you will suffer the same fate!”

The crowd was eerily silent. The victory Geta sought to claim now felt tainted by General Acacius’ actions. Geta’s display served as a stark reminder of the depths to which the brothers would stoop to maintain control.

“And as for these two!” Geta’s voice cut through the heavy silence, his sword still dripping with the blood of the executed men. He pointed dramatically toward Cecilia and Acacius, who remained on the ground of the arena. Her arms remained wrapped tightly around Acacius,  as if she could shield him from the horrors around them.

“Their fates,” Geta continued, his voice dripping with malice, “will be sealed another way.”

Acacius’s muscles tensed, and Cecilia clung to him, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto Geta’s twisted smile. Geta spread his arms wide, turning to address the crowd with theatrical flair. “Would you like to see the great General Acacius fight the gladiators?”

For a moment, there was silence, a collective intake of breath as the crowd processed his words. Then, like a storm breaking, the cheers erupted. The bloodthirsty mob roared in approval, their earlier unease drowned in their insatiable desire for spectacle.

Five men had been killed for no reason, yet they cheered.

Cecilia’s heart sank further as she heard the crowd chant, their voices a deafening wall of sound. She shook her head, her hands gripping Acacius’s arms. “No,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “No, this can’t happen.”

Acacius exhaled slowly, his face grim but steady. He gently touched Cecilia’s cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Listen to me,” he said softly, his voice calm despite the chaos around them. “I will not let them hurt you. No matter what happens.”

“But you can’t fight them,” she said, her voice breaking. “You can’t win against the gladiators. They’ll—they’ll kill you…”

“I’ve faced worse odds,” he replied with a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed his own doubts.

Geta raised his hand, silencing the crowd. “Let it be known,” he declared, “that this is the price of defying Rome’s will. The General who dared stand against us will face his doom in the arena, like the traitor he is!”

Cecilia turned to the crowd, her voice rising in desperation. “Is this what you want?” she cried. “The death of a man who has served you, protected you? Can’t you see this is wrong?”

Her words barely reached the mob, their cheers drowning her out.

Valerius approached, his expression smug. “Save your breath, Empress,” he said mockingly. “The people have already spoken. And they demand blood.”

Acacius stood, pulling Cecilia up with him. He turned to Valerius, his eyes burning with quiet fury. “You forget, Valerius,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “The people may cheer for blood now. But even mobs have memories. And they will remember who turned this arena into a graveyard.”

Valerius’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he stepped back.

Guards surrounded Acacius, dragging him toward the center of the arena. Cecilia tried to follow, but two soldiers restrained her, holding her back as she screamed his name.

“Acacius! No!”

He looked back at her one last time, his expression filled with unspoken words. “It’s alright.” Acacius’ voice said. His voice was still so soothing as he tried to comfort her amidst absolute chaos. Then he turned, squaring his shoulders as he was taken away, the jeers and cheers of the crowd roaring in his ears.

Cecilia struggled against the iron grip of the guards as they dragged her away from the arena, her cries for Acacius swallowed by the deafening roar of the crowd. Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between fear for him and the growing dread of what awaited her.

Geta led the procession back to the palace, his expression cold and calculating as the sun began to set. The gleeful cruelty that had animated him moments before was now replaced with a chilling resolve. He said nothing as they entered their shared bedroom, but his silence was far more menacing than any shouted command.

The guards shoved her into the room, where Geta dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand. The doors slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone.

Cecilia straightened, her defiance flickering despite her fear. “You have no right,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “You’ll answer for this, Geta. The people won’t stand for your tyranny. You killed good men…your own soldiers…”

Geta laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the marble walls. “The people?” he said, stepping closer. “The same people who cheered for Acacius to be torn apart in the arena? Don’t be naive, Cecilia. The crowd is fickle, easily swayed by blood and spectacle. They will cheer for blood, no matter whose it is.”

He circled her like a predator, his piercing gaze making her skin crawl. “You, on the other hand, are a far more dangerous adversary. With your words, your compassion, you inspire loyalty. That makes you a threat—a threat I must manage.”

Cecilia trembled,  meeting his gaze. She was beginning to question how much more she could take. “I will be your wife, I will stand beside you…” she said. “I will stay in this cage… but Rome will see the truth eventually. They will rise against you.”

Geta’s smirk widened as he stopped in front of her, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “You misunderstand, little dove. I don’t need you to bow. I need you to break.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. “You will stay here, under my watch, until you learn your place. If you refuse to cooperate…” His voice lowered, his tone dripping with menace. “…I will make Acacius’s suffering last as long as possible.”

Her heart sank, and her defiance faltered for a moment. Acacius. She had to conform, or he would face torture and pain. “Let me see him,” she said, “let me see Acacius once before he fights the gladiators.”

Geta’s smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of rage. He stepped back, clapping his hands sharply. “Let you see him?” he asked, “Why, little dove? To conspire one last time? To fuel his defiance with your tears?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. “If you wish to break us both, give me this one mercy. I will do whatever you want, just let me see him one last time.”

Geta circled her, his footsteps echoing ominously in the cavernous chamber. He seemed to savor her request, his cruel grin returning. “You think mercy is something I grant?” He paused behind her, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath. “What would you do for this, Cecilia? How far would you go to see him?”

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Anything,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “If it spares him further suffering, I will do whatever you ask.”

He laughed darkly, stepping around to face her again. “Anything. What a dangerous word.” He reached out, gripping her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “But you’re clever enough to know that, aren’t you?”

Cecilia stared at him, her fear battling with her resolve. She refused to let him see her falter. “Do we have a bargain?” she asked, her voice even.

Geta released her with a dismissive shove, turning away. “You’ll see him,” he said over his shoulder, his tone cold and detached. “But remember this, little dove: every word you speak to him, every glance you share, I will use to control him. To control you. Don’t make me regret this generosity. And do not forget…you are my wife. You are bound to me, no matter what.”

Cecilia’s breath caught, but she didn’t respond. She had won a sliver of hope, and she clung to it with all her might. Whatever Geta’s intentions, she would find a way to protect Acacius, even if it meant enduring Geta’s twisted games.

[beyondmistland]

I read through all your posts about Alysanne Targaryen as Maegor's daughter and am now in a rabbit hole. Thank you. I've been thinking about Maegor's wives and which one of Henry VIII's wives they represent. Ceryse is Cathrine of Aragon and Alys is Anne Boleyn. The others are hard to pin for me since there isn't a lot. What do you think? Would Maegor's reign have been more interesting if his marriages had more similarities to those of Henry VIII?

I think this is where we run into a number of problems regarding the way GRRM wrote Fire & Blood specifically and the way he setup Westeros more generally.

For one, the fairly homogenized nature of southron culture as well as the oversimplification of religious institutions and history means you can't quite get the same dynamism as from real life European history, with its dizzying array of languages, cultures, cuisines, fashions, etc., to mention nothing of the then-ongoing Protestant Reformation. I suppose GRRM could have had Maegor convert to the Old Gods a la Julian (II) the Apostate or the Drowned God (you just know the Ironborn are the one race on the surface of Planetos that would say King Maegor the Good with a completely straight face) or even R'hllor, which would be the best choice in terms of worldbuilding opportunities in my opinion.

Moving on, we run into a handful of problems with Maegor specifically, one of them being the length of his reign. Look, while I can't deny Maegor ruling for 6 years and 66 days is incredibly cheeky, it also isn't anywhere close to Henry VIII's 36 years as king. With so little room timeline-wise, there isn't a lot of flexibility when it comes to telling new stories and fleshing out preexisting ones and all that is before you factor in Maegor himself.

I won't hold back. For all GRRM's talk of moral ambiguity, the human heart in conflict with itself, good men who were bad kings and bad men who were good kings, etc., his Targaryen monarchs are, for the most part, numbingly one-note. Aegon I is a literal enigma, Aenys is weak, Maegor cruel, Viserys I a party animal, Aegon II and Rhaenyra mirror-images of each other in their disqualifying vices, etc. As I've written before with my post reimagining Maegor as more of a Ivan (IV) the Terrible figure there was room to make him a genuinely controversial figure of historiography but instead GRRM doubled down on sensationalism and apathy-inducing slasher porn for lack of a better word. The fact Maegor is also the first and last of Visenya's line just adds more salt to the wound but that's part of GRRM's more general (and for me personally, vexing) habit of keeping family trees incredibly small.

(I do recall another alternative someone once brought up to the late Steven Attewell. Namely, turning Maegor into the Westerosi version of Macbeth by way of Der Untergang.)

This brings me to my semifinal point. GRRM didn't have to write Fire & Blood as Procopius' Secret History on steroids with a dash of Suetonius' Lives of Twelve Caesars and I, Claudius (the entire Saera episode is practically lifted wholesale from the scandal that envelops Augustus' daughter, Julia) but he did, which is doubly disappointing because not only does the final product suck quality-wise as a result but also because there were so many other avenues available to him.

He could have written Fire & Blood as a proper history (with less focus on the sex lives of teenage girls for one) or as a mirror for princes or as a dialogue between two characters or even as a character study. You can even see GRRM struggling with the constraints imposed by his use of Gyldayn in certain sections like the death of Maelor and the entire Hour of the Wolf episode, where you get reams of dialogue and characterization as well as more traditional narrative trappings like build-up, mood setting, etc.

Now, to answer your actual question (lol), I don't think any of Henry VIII's other wives map well onto Maegor's. Tyanna is, more or less, his female counterpart in terms of cruelty and zero redeeming features and entirely a fantasy construct. Elinor and Jeyne are both married to Maegor for only a year (with poor Jeyne dying in childbirth because Jeyne Westerlings, like the Brackens, Peakes, and Florents, cannot catch a break in Westeros) and before said marriage takes place neither appears on the page. As for Rhaena, well, credit where its due, she was a rare (and unexpected) highlight of Fire & Blood.

Thanks for the question, anon

[janeeyreofmanderley]

I am still baffled...

Yesterday at the screening of Macbeth with David Tennant and Cush Jumbo a young woman said, that from the three Shakespeare plays wiht the same plot Hamlet is still the best.

Then she elaborated that Hamlet, Macbeth and Richard III all had exactly the same plot.

And....honestly I don't see it? Even if you go with "royalty" and ....well "revenge" as topics (though honestly Macbeth is not really about revenge, at least not until later, when he gives MacDuff reason to seek it, it is more about making revenge happen!) these are three very different stories????

You could argue about some similarities between Macbeth and Richard and Claudius. Killing their way to power. But then you have Macbeth, becoming more and more ruthless, Claudius being ruthless too but in a decidedly more cowardly way and Richard? Richard knows not what remorse is but happily kills his way through the plot.

A good story is not necessairily one you have never heard before, with dramatic plot twists (which mostly are only unpredictable if badly told), but one that is well told, that gives you time and space to get invested into characters, see what makes them tick, study their situation etc.

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

Okay but as a literature nerd I fucking LOVE that the new Ghost shirt design is a John Everett Millais reference. The pre-Raphaelites were a group of poets and artists we got to discuss and study when we were studying Victorian literature during my second year at uni and I was so fascinated by them that I wrote one of my assignments on the male gaze within Dante Gabriel Rossetti's poems Soul's Beauty and Body's Beauty (and their accompanying paintings).

More than that, though, it also fascinates me as a Shakespeare fan that Ophelia was chosen. Ophelia, who either is driven mad or falls into a deep, inconsolable despair in Hamlet because of the way she is used by the titular character and suffers bc of the political games within the family. I talked about this with someone on discord and we both agreed that this feels very Copia.

Could Ophelia's tragic fate within Hamlet be a hint towards Copia's? Or what about events in the broader play? Will the events that unfold within Ghost lore running up to Copia's departure from the band mirror the events in the play? After all, he's already arguably haunted by his father's ghost, just as Hamlet was. And when he cries out "no" and runs off the stage during Rats, could that not be argued that it's a sign of him beginning to spiral into despair? Will we see him dripping poison (literally) into Saltarian's ear in a plot to kill him? (I say Saltarian bc Imperator would take the role of Hamlet's mother, Gertrude, while Saltarian would be Claudius)

But hey. That's just a theory. Maybe it has no meaning at all and it's just a cool shirt design.

[horaitos]

one thing that I think should be emphasized in Horatio’s character is the fact that no matter how educated or court-assimilated he is, he will never be treated as anything other than lower because of his birth.

Horatio is smart, he knows court speak and etiquette, and he studied alongside a prince. But the only people who acknowledge his education are Hamlet, his friend, and the guards, who aren’t royal and therefore are probably more comfortable around Horatio. Gertrude and Claudius see him as little more than a servant, despite what he’s accomplished when it comes to schooling. They don’t mention him at all when it comes to Hamlet going back to Wittenberg. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Osric don’t even acknowledge his presence. He’s a nobody to practically everyone at the court. Despite the face that he studied at Wittenberg along Hamlet, he isn’t seen as anything more than lower.

[lizardrosen]

@glintglimmergleam, @avocado-moon, It's finished!!

Every year at Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton siblings convene on Boxing Day to mount a Shakespeare play under their acting company, The Viscount’s Men. Every year Eloise gets mad that they wouldn’t choose a gender neutral name, and every year she’s shouted down because it’s a historical reference to Shakespeare’s own troupe, The Lord Chamberlain’s Men. The argument she’s bound to lose is as much of a tradition as the play itself. The audience has always been exclusively their parents and the Aubrey Hall servants, and maybe Lady Danbury if she's visiting for Christmas. In 1814, the play they choose is Hamlet.

Relationships: Hamlet/Ophelia (Hamlet), Claudius/Gertrude (Hamlet), Gertrude/Hamlet Sr. (Hamlet), Edmund Bridgerton/Violet Bridgerton, Henry Granville/Lord Wetherby

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton

Hamlet (Hamlet), Laertes (Hamlet), Polonius (Hamlet), Gertrude (Hamlet), Ophelia (Hamlet), Claudius (Hamlet), Hamlet Sr. (Hamlet), Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Hamlet), Horatio (Hamlet). Fortinbras (Hamlet)

Additional Tags: Theatre, Performance Art, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, Retelling of Hamlet, Anthony Bridgerton Loves His Family, Artist Benedict Bridgerton, Good Sibling Benedict Bridgerton, implied Hamlet/Laertes, Implied Hamlet/Horatio, but Anthony doesn't know he's playing a bisexual character

Word Count: 19,598

[ilredeiladri]

I just found this attempt to the task "change an existing story by letting a character appear unexpectedly and ruin the ending" in my drafts. I'd totally forgotten that I ever wrote this but I must admit that I love it 😂

>“This is the final round, Laertes”, Hamlet growls. “Prepare to lose!”

“We will see”, Laertes retorts and raises his rapier.

“Oh, stop it, boys!” a high, very familiar voice rings out from the entrance of the throne room. Both fencers spin around to search for the speaker. As they see the girl, that is standing there soaking wet wearing a white dress and a flower crown, they gasp for air.

“I know, I know”, Ophelia sighs, “you are totally shocked to see me. But guess what? I don’t care. I’m sick to death of your childish behaviour – no pun intended. Hammy, you already killed my dad because of this lunacy, so leave my brother alone. You aren’t much of a fighter after all, are you? So better stick to your books and your little loverboy – yes, I mean you, Horatio. Please take this fool of a prince back to your studies. Whatever you do there... I don’t care. Just leave! And Laelae? Stop bitching around just because you’re frustrated by your trip to France. Guess what, people can survive getting dumped without starting a revolution. Maybe it’s time to grow up and accept that you aren’t as irresistible as you think. Other people can live with that and so will you. Just grow up, big brother! And STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! Both of you!”

As if by command Hamlet and Laertes drop their gazes to the floor. It’s hard to tell which of them looks more ashamed and embarrassed. Nobody in the room, not even the king, says a word.

“Have I made myself clear?!” Ophelia asks and the two boys that were about to kill each other a second before nod in unison.

“Good”, Ophelia smiles pleased. She steps forward and picks the rapier from Laertes’ hand. “Let me take this before someone gets hurt. Do you have anything to say before I leave?”

“I love you”, Hamlet grovels. “I’d drink Eisel for you!”

“I love you more”, Laertes hastens to affirm. “I’d drink Eisel AND eat a crocodile.”

“Oh, don’t be pathetic, you two!” Ophelia snorts rolling her eyes. Then she walks straight up to the golden goblet filled with wine that’s standing next to the king.

“Do your highness mind if I take that?” she asks and grabs the goblet without waiting for an answer. Claudius’ eyes widen as she raises the cup to her lips.

“Don’t drink that, girl! It’s poison!” he shouts in horror.

“Yeah, I should hope so”, Ophelia rejoins with a shrug. “I’m so sick of this stupid world. And after I reckoned that drowning isn’t the best way for suicide when you are an excellent swimmer, this might be a more successful attempt. Cheerio, you losers!” Nobody tries to stop her as she downs the wine in one gulp while starting to walk back towards the double door through that she had stepped in just a few moments ago. The last thing the thunderstruck people she leaves behind see is how she carelessly throws the goblet on the ground and struts out of the door, Laertes’ rapier still in hand.

Minutes tick away until someone dares to move again.

“Wow”, Hamlet whispers. “What a woman.”

“Hands off of my sister!” Laertes mumbles automatically.

“Well, if the king spoke the truth, she may be dead already” Horatio objects "So..." He tellingly arches his eyebrows. Hamlet and Laertes interchange a look before they both break into tears as if they have gotten an invisible signal. Horatio sighs.

“Well… I kind of understand her”, he mutters while patting Hamlet’s back. “You two are actually the biggest dumbheads I ever met.”<

[shmreduplication]

Ok i downloaded a full cast audio production of Hamlet to better imagine them wearing the costumes from Seussical and I am still holding p firmly to the idear that Ham was acting wholly logically at least thru not looking behind the curtain

But

This version has a lot more encouragement from the ghost that Ham should kill Claudius than the version I saw. This is unabridged and 3.5 hours long. The version I saw was 2.5 and edited to fit smoothly with R&G Are Dead, which they did in repertory, it was incredible. So it seems like they cut a lot of the ghost's lines and it's reminding me of Dream Ghosts from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. It's a song about how main characters will have revelations from talking to ghosts, often in dreams, and the ghosts say info that the protag will have already known or wanted to believe and generally it's left ambiguous if the ghost was real or not

Basically you can't be sure if the ghost is real unless it tells you factually true & verifiable information that you didn't already suspect. Hamlet thinks he can assume the ghost is real because other people see it first, and that's fair but the ghost only talks to him and says stuff he already suspected so the dialogue from the ghost doesn't pass the test. Sorry Ham, maybe go back to college and retake your ghost studies class

[justforbooks]

The career of the actor Andre Braugher, who has died of lung cancer aged 61, was benchmarked by two performances in police dramas a generation apart. In the groundbreaking drama Homicide: Life on the Street, from 1993 until 1999, he played Detective Frank Pembleton, whose drive immediately made him the anchor of an impressive ensemble cast led by Yaphet Kotto and Ned Beatty. He drew a younger audience with the comedy Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013-21) as Captain Ray Holt, who takes over a chaotic homicide squad and whose intensity again makes him the heart of the show.

Braugher’s deep, resonant voice and seemingly effortless control drew the respect of all he worked with. David Simon, creator of Homicide and The Wire, said: “I’ve worked with a lot of wonderful actors. I’ll never work with one better.” His classical training, at the Juilliard School in New York, made him a regular at the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park, and indeed his portrayal of Henry V in 1996 won him an Obie (the off-Broadway equivalent of the Tony awards).

He brought the projection of the stage to the small screen. Pembleton was the master of “the Box”, or the interrogation room. He explained to his rookie partner in Homicide (played by Kyle Secor), it was “salesmanship … as silver tongued and thieving as ever moved used cars, Florida swamp land or Bibles. But what I am selling is a long prison sentence.” He dominated those small scenes, but the episode Subway, with Vincent D’Onofrio as a character pushed between subway trains, who will die once the trains are separated, was a two-hander whose intensity might have come from the stage of Beckett, Pinter or Mamet.

In Brooklyn Nine-Nine, as Holt, he played it straight in two senses. The adage of comedy being funniest when played straight gained resonance from Braugher’s ability to show the audience with a gesture or line-reading that he, like you, got the joke. But Holt is also gay. His gayness is never an issue, except as motivation for his progress within the police. It was as if Pembleton were stepping into Kotto’s “Gee” Giardello, a black man with an Italian father who was determined to rise in a white-dominated department.

This drive reflected Braugher’s own background. In the tough neighbourhood of Austin, on Chicago’s West Side, both his parents worked for the government; his father, Floyd, was a heavy equipment operator for the state of Illinois, and his mother, Sally, worked for the US Postal Service. He recalled he might have “pretended I was hard and tough and not square”, but he won scholarships to the Jesuit St Ignatius College prep and then to study mathematics at Stanford University, California. After walking into a student production of Hamlet, and playing Claudius, he decided he wanted to act.

Another scholarship took him to Juilliard. He graduated in 1988 and almost immediately was cast in a TV revival of Kojak, as his assistant. His first film role came in Glory (1989); he was so impressive as the educated Thomas Searles, forced to serve as a private soldier in the all-black regiment commanded by his white friend, that Hollywood came calling, but the parts were standard stereotyical roles. His father had questioned how a black actor would make a living, and Braugher later explained: “I’d rather not work than do a part I’m ashamed of.”

He played the lead in a TV movie, The Court-Martial of Jackie Robinson (1990), playing Robinson, the first African-American player in major league baseball, who earlier in the 1940s, as a US army lieutenant, had refused to ride in the back of a segregated bus; and appeared in another TV film, The Tuskegee Airmen (1995). He was an egotistical actor in Spike Lee’s Get On the Bus (1996), about the Million Man March on Washington DC the year before. In 1998 he won his first Emmy award for playing Pembleton; he was nominated 11 times, and won his second in 2006 for his role in the miniseries Thief.

After Homicide, he starred as a doctor in Gideon’s Crossing (2000-01), as a cop in Hack (2002-04), as a car dealer in the comedy-drama Men of a Certain Age (2009-11) and as the captain of a submarine which goes on the run after he refuses to obey orders to fire nuclear missiles in Last Resort (2012-13). He had another series of remarkable two-handers in a recurring role as Hugh Laurie’s psychiatrist in House, was a defense attorney in episodes of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, and voiced Governor Woodchuck Coodchuck-Berkowitz in the animated comedy BoJack Horseman.

He made the most of supporting roles in films such as Primal Fear (as Richard Gere’s investigator), Poseidon (captain of the sinking liner), Salt (as the US secretary of defense) and most notably as a New York Times editor in She Said (2022), covering the Harvey Weinstein scandal. He also starred in 10,000 Black Men Named George (2002), the story of the unionisation of Pullman railway porters, who were always called “George” by passengers.

Braugher admitted that his career “could have been larger, but it would have been at the expense of my own life”. He lived in suburban New Jersey with his wife, the actor Ami Brabson (who played Pembleton’s wife in Homicide). He said he wanted his three sons, Michael, Isaiah and John Wesley, raised in a “true context”, away from being a movie star’s offspring in Hollywood.

He is survived by his wife and sons, his brother, Charles, and his mother.

🔔 Andre Keith Braugher, actor, born 1 July 1962; died 11 December 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[daughterofhecata]

2, 3, 6 and 25 for Hugenay? (And maybe for Milo if you want (cause I'm obsessed 🙈))

[character ask game]

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Victor: On one hand, I'm admittedly a sucker for the whole gentleman thief thing, but on the other hand, I also do love the tension that comes from the original episodes vs the german episodes/translations, because uh. he *does* make people almost crash their cars on more than one occasion. And also, "no violence" or not, he's still manipulative af and I do love that.

Milo: Almost everything??? I love how kind he can be and how appreciative of people (that moment in Time Bomb where he says to Alex "I think you're worth listening to. I always thought so" lives in my heart) and how protective he gets (both of Rick, esp in Murder Book, and also of Alex - that one scene in Survival of the Fittest is A Lot). And honestly, I may have my problems with Kellerman in some regards, but I will always be grateful that he decided some time in the fucking 80's to just. write a crime novel series prominently featuring a queer cop.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Victor: I don't think have a least favourite thing? I'm probably supposed to mention the Brittany thing but, I genuinely think that was pretty fucked up but also very interesting. He can be absolutely awful and I love that.

Milo: that part in Over the Edge, idk if you remember, where he goes on a tangent about murders in the queer community/scene, that shit was uncomfortable as fuck. Also the newer books sometimes have him make weird digs at "PC culture" which. ugh.

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Victor: Probably nothing. Nothing canonical at least. Fanon/head canon wise an interest in literature, I guess. (And a disinterest in romance, if we're reading that into his interactions with Vivienne in Mord unter Palmen xD)

Milo: Gay? 😄 Also, always make sure to tip at restaurants etc? (even if I can't afford the same level of tips) And *also* interest in literature, he did study it after all.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Victor: Well. I heard Mr Claudius say "Hugenay kann. Der ist so raffiniert, dass er es kann" when I was approximately eight years old and I've been in love with him ever since. I *am* however making an effort to acknowledge his less gentlemanly sides lately.

Milo: Genuinely do not remember my first impression, I picked up one of the later books as a teen on a whim and it initially didn't leave a bigger lasting impression than other crime novels I liked, I didn't really think deeply about it. Nowadays, Milo is absolutely one of the most important fictional characters for me, because I sincerely don't know if there is *anything* like him, a cop in a mostly mid long running crime novel series who just so happens to be gay. 90% of the time it has no bearing on the story really, he just *is* gay. And that means a lot to me.

[liviasdrusillas]

Hi! I was wondering if you hav any shows/book recommendations on Livia/her family. After watching Domina I wanted to read/watch more on them!

hi! yes, i'd be glad to give some recommendations!

in terms of shows, there aren't many out there, unfortunately. the only one i can think of is rome hbo and that only really touches on augustus' life before the fall of the republic and his side of the family so if you're interested in learning more about augustus, agrippa and octavia, that would be a good show to watch!

there's also i claudius (which is also a novel) but i really don't recommend it. it's literally just one long character assassination of livia <3

now for books, here's a few i would recommend:

livia: first lady of imperial rome by anthony barrett --> this book does a good job of not only studying livia's life but also explaining some of the takes that ancient writers had about her and some of the rumors/theories that surround different events in her life. this book is a bit old so bear that in mind when reading

dynasty: the rise and fall of the house of caesar by tom holland --> one of my favorites! it does a great job of analyzing the julio-claudians' place in history in a compelling fashion!

domina: the women who made imperial rome: guy de la bedoyere --> one of my favorites! this book goes beyond the scope of livia and her immediate female relatives but the parts discussing livia, octavia and the agrippinas were great! my only complaint is that i wish it had been longer!

The First Ladies of Rome: The Women Behind the Caesars by Annelise Freisenbruch --> Another great book similar in focus to the title above!

Roman Women: The Women Who Influenced the History of Rome by Paul Chrystal --> Okay I really dislike this book but if you want to learn more about the place of women within roman society, this would be a good read! I read it to learn more about influential women in Rome and was disappointed because I wasn't looking for that more generalistic perspective

Hope these recs help <3

[pascalhowlett]

Ethereal Chapter 6

A/N: SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE LIFE GOT IN THE WAY :/ There is SO MUCH MORE from where this came from! I know this is slow burn kinda but I promise we are getting closer to the *spicy* stuff.

If you prefer to read on AO3, that can be found here!

Warnings: Mentions of r*pe, implied r*pe, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, smut

Summary: After the Roman Empire takes over Numidia, Cecilia is purchased by Emperor Geta as a pawn in his attempts to take over Rome. What will happen when she meets General Marcus Acacius, the soldier who was responsible for the death of her lover, Atticus Claudius?

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Original Female Character

This is Chapter 6! Find the rest of the chapters on my Tumblr here!

Word Count: 3k -ish

At dawn, Acacius led Cecilia to the library that was attached to the palace. The morning light spilled softly through the corridors, but instead of escorting her to the usual alcove, he brought her there.

“The orders for the day—the documents—should be on the scribe’s desk,” Acacius explained.

“Where is that?” Cecilia asked as they paused their footsteps outside of the library entrance. 

“In the corner, with the scrolls,” he replied, glancing around warily. “You must go alone. It will look suspicious if I’m seen inside.”

“Why would it be suspicious for you to be in the library?” she asked, frowning.

Acacius hesitated, his expression hardening for a moment. “Because I’m not meant to handle such matters. My place is elsewhere, and questions would follow. Yours, however, is less constrained—use that to your advantage.”

Cecilia studied him for a moment, her frown deepening as unease settled over her. Still, she nodded, stepping toward the grand oak doors of the library. Acacius lingered just out of sight, his posture rigid, as though he were ready to attack anyone who dared to hurt her.

The library was silent, the kind of stillness that only indicated trouble. Shelves towered around her, their contents a treasure trove of knowledge and recent decrees. The faint scent of parchment and ink hung in the air, but it did little to soothe her. 

A fire should strike this place, she thought, Rome could start anew. 

She moved quickly, her steps muffled as she winded down the different aisles of books. The scribe’s desk was easy to spot in the far corner, a cluster of scrolls and papers spread out haphazardly. Cecilia hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the door as though expecting someone to burst in. When the silence held, she forced herself forward.

Her fingers skimmed over the papers, her pulse quickening as she searched for anything bearing the signature of her cynical husband. Finally, her hand stilled on a scroll sealed with wax, the names on the paper ironically written in red ink. Gaius Tiberius, Quintus Publius, Aulus Servius, Caius Nero, Manius Cato. Five innocent men signed away to death…just to make a statement. 

She slipped the scroll underneath her gown, her movements quick but shaky. For a moment, she paused, ears straining for any sound beyond her panicked breathing. Satisfied, she turned and began retracing her steps toward the exit. Her pace was measured, her nerves taut like a bowstring. The door loomed closer, the hallway beyond promising a return to relative safety—

A creak.

Cecilia froze, leaning against a shelf as she caught herself. She held her breath, her ears straining. The sound came again, soft but distinct, from deeper within the library. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart hammering. Was someone else there, hidden among the shelves? Or was her mind conjuring shadows out of fear?

Shaking her head, she made a beeline for the door and gripped the handle, pulling the door open just enough to slip out. Acacius was waiting, his eyes scanning her face.

“Do you have it?” He asked in a low whisper.

She nodded, keeping her voice steady despite her unease. “No one was inside. But I heard... something.”

Acacius stiffened, his gaze darting toward the library. “We need to move. Now.”

“Five men,” she said as they reached the alcove, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “Five men will die today if we don’t stop this.”

Acacius took the scroll from her trembling hands. His fingers were rough against the delicate parchment, and his expression darkened as his eyes scanned the names:

Gaius Tiberius, Quintus Publius, Aulus Servius, Caius Nero, Manius Cato.

She saw the moment the meaning of those names sank in, his demeanor changing to one of pure rage. His shoulders tensed, and his breath came out in a sharp exhale. His hand clenched the scroll so tightly the wax seal cracked and fell away. When he spoke, his voice was low, as if restraining himself from a deeper reaction.

“Three of these are my men,” he said, his tone sharper than she had ever heard. “Men who’ve served loyally, with honor. And the other two…” His jaw tightened as he turned away, pacing in the small space. “Elders. Respected men who dared to challenge the council’s growing corruption. This isn’t justice—it’s slaughter.”

Cecilia sat heavily on the stone bench, overwhelmed by the weight of his words. She pressed a hand to her forehead, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why? I do not understand…why these men?” 

“To send a message.” He stopped pacing, sitting next to her and holding his head in his hands. “The soldiers are expendable to them, scapegoats to spread fear. The elders? Their deaths will silence any who might follow their example. The elders, they trained me, made me who I am today…”

She looked at him, startled by the intensity of his anger. His face was a mask of fury, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—grief. She’d seen Acacius upset with calculated actions, but she realized his rage was a weapon as sharp as any blade. This was different, heavier than anything she had seen from him before.

“You blame yourself,” she said softly, the guilt practically seeping through his skin.

He stiffened, his gaze snapping to hers. “Of course I do. They’re my men, Cecilia. I should have seen this coming. I should have protected them.”

Cecilia scooted closer to him. The anger radiating off him was palpable, but she placed a hand on his arm, her touch light. “This is not your fault. They just want to kill anyone to make a statement.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw clenching. He could not bring himself to look at anything but the floor beneath him. Then, slowly, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. When he looked at her again, the rage was still there, but it was tempered by her gentle touch, her soft caress.

“I don’t want to fail them,” he said, his voice quiet now. “Or you.”

“You won’t,” she said firmly. “You could never fail me. We will do this together.”

His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the man beneath the soldier—the one who had risked everything to protect those he cared about. “You’re braver than most soldiers I’ve known,” he said, his lips quivering into the faintest hint of a smile.

Cecilia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her own lips twitching upward despite the gravity of their situation. “I don’t know if that’s bravery or recklessness,” she said lightly, trying to ease the tension that still hung between them.

“Sometimes,” Acacius said, his voice low but warm, “there’s no difference.”

She blinked at him, startled by the unexpected tenderness in his tone. He looked at her as though trying to memorize her face, as if this moment might be their last. He noticed the dimples when she smiled, the way her soft brown hair curled at the edges as they cascaded to her shoulders. She was breathtaking to him. Her cheeks were still a rosy red, his words clearly having an effect on her.

“You don’t have to say that for me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“I’m not saying it for you,” he replied, stepping closer. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve seen fear break the strongest of men. You feel it, and yet you stand. That’s not recklessness, Cecilia. That’s courage.”

Her breath hitched, the sincerity in his words cutting through her defenses like a blade. For all his strength, there was a vulnerability in him that made her chest ache.

“And you?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What about your courage?”

He looked away, the flicker of a smile fading as he shook his head. “Courage doesn’t stop the people you care about from dying.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Cecilia reached for his hand without thinking, her fingers brushing his. “No, but it’s the only thing that gives them a chance to live. Your courage has saved countless lives before, and it will today as well.”

Acacius stilled, her touch anchoring him. He gave a short nod, his hand tightening briefly over hers as their fingers laced.

“We’ll give them that chance,” he said. “Together.”

She nodded, confidence building within her. His touch made her feel fearless. They didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on unspoken fears or unacknowledged feelings. Time was slipping away, and five lives depended on them.

His loving gaze was quickly replaced by a solemn determination. His composure was slowly returning from his previous fit of rage. “I will take the scroll with me to the colosseum and show it to the people prior to the execution.” 

“That’s risky,” she said, “what if they discover it is gone?”

“They will,” he admitted, but a small, almost mischievous smile flickered across his lips. “Which is why we’re not going to let them pin it on me—or either of us.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Acacius began pacing as he let go of her hand. She automatically ached for his touch once more, but his mind was clearly racing as he pieced together a plan. “The scroll alone won’t be enough. We’ll need the crowd on our side, but we can’t rely on their outrage alone. We need someone within the council—or close to it—who can verify the authenticity.”

“Not a traitor,” Acacius said. “A sympathizer. There are still a few who believe in justice, even if they’ve been too afraid to act. I know someone who might help, he works directly with my soldiers.”

Cecilia was unsure, and not as quick to trust as the General. “And you trust this person?”

“Enough to know they want the council’s corruption to end as much as we do.” He turned to her, his gaze steady. “I need you to deliver the scroll to them. I can’t be seen leaving the Colosseum before the executions, and if they trace it back to me, this will all fall apart. You can move through the city without drawing suspicion.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “And because I trust you.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she quickly shook off the distraction. “Where will you be while I’m doing this?”

“At the Colosseum, preparing the crowd, making sure the Emperors are distracted,” he said. “If I can sway them before the executions, it will be easier.”

“Tell me who to find, and I will do it.” She said.

Acacius pulled her close, his hand resting briefly on her waist. “Near the south end of the palace. A merchant named Valerius. He deals in armor,  but his loyalty lies with the people.”

“I’ll find him,” she promised, tucking the scroll safely back beneath her gown.

“Be careful,” he said, rubbing the small of her back, “If anything happens to you—”

“Nothing will happen,” she interrupted, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We don’t have room for failure, remember?”

He smirked, the weight between them lifting slightly. “I’ll see you at the east end of the Colosseum. And Cecilia—thank you.”

“Thank you, General” she said, her eyes brushing over his soft, delicate lips. Acacius noticed her glance, his heart skipping a beat despite the impending doom around them.

His heart skipped at the sincerity in his words, but he nodded. “Acacius,” he corrected her, “call me Acacius.”

“Acacius,” she said, smiling once more before turning on her foot and heading out of the alcove. As they parted ways, Cecilia couldn’t help but glance back at him. His anger still simmered beneath the surface, but it was clear that he’d harness it, turning it into the resolve they both needed to see this through.

As she disappeared into the palace, Acacius stood for a moment, his gaze lingering on the spot where she’d been standing, the smell of her sweet perfume still heavy in the air.

He wasn’t about to let five innocent men—or the woman who had become his partner in this fight—die for no reason. 

Cecilia quickly dressed into her cloaks and left towards the south end of the palace. The south market was alive with activity, despite the early hour. Merchants called out their wares, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of bartering and haggling. Cecilia pulled her cloak tighter, her eyes scanning the bustling square for the armor merchant Acacius had mentioned.

Valerius. A name spoken with trust, yet tied to danger.

She spotted the small building near the edge of the square, draped with metal pieces of armor, shiny silvers, brilliant golds, and soft red cloaks to compliment them. A stout man with a thick beard stood behind the facade of armor, his hands working with an open flame as she approached. Taking a deep breath, Cecilia stood in front of him, her posture friendly but guarded. She waited until he turned from the open flame to begin speaking.

“Valerius?” she asked, her voice low.

The man’s hands as he placed the tools he was holding on a table nearby. His green eyes flicked to her, sharp and assessing as he realized exactly who she was. “My lady…Empress Cecilia,” he bowed, making her cringe inwardly.

“Please, do not bow,” she told him, “I am just a woman, consider me a friend.” She hesitated, then pulled the scroll from her cloak, careful to keep it concealed as she held it toward him. “I was sent by Acacius. He said you could help.”

At the mention of Acacius’s name, Valerius’s expression hardened. He glanced around, as if he was worried they were being watched. He then leaned closer. “You must be careful saying that name out loud here,” he muttered. “Follow me.”

Before she could respond, he had grabbed her wrist and disappeared behind his building, lifting a heavy curtain that concealed a narrow doorway. Cecilia hesitated only a moment before ducking through.

The small room behind the stall was dimly lit, its air thick with the scent burning fire and casting irons. Valerius stood by the curtain, as if he was worried someone would try to walk in.

“Show me,” he demanded, his voice low but urgent.

Cecilia unfurled the scroll, holding it out so he could see the names listed there. As his eyes scanned the parchment, his expression shifted—from curiosity to anger, then to something heavier. “They mean to execute them?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded. “At the Colosseum. Emperor Geta…my husband… signed away on these orders. Acacius believes the brothers want to make an example of them. He thought you might be able to help expose the truth.”

Valerius exhaled sharply, his hand running over his beard. “This… this could change everything. But it’s dangerous. If they catch wind of this, it won’t just be me they come for.”

“I know,” Cecilia said. “But if we do nothing, five innocent men will die. Acacius is preparing to rally the crowd at the Colosseum. If you help him step forward with this evidence, he believes we can stop the executions.”

Valerius studied her for a long moment, his sharp gaze searching her face. “You’re not a soldier,” he said finally. “Why are you risking your life for this? Why are you turning against your husband?”

“Emperor Geta is not my husband by choice… and because it’s the right thing to do,” she said simply. “I trust Acacius, I believe he can fix what these brothers have broken.”

The corners of Valerius’s mouth lifted slightly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “General Acacius. That man has a way of inspiring loyalty, doesn’t he?”

Cecilia chuckled at that as she nodded, clutching the scroll tightly. “Will you help us?”

Valerius hesitated, then gave a short nod. “I’ll do what I can. Meet me at the east entrance of the Colosseum just before the executions. I’ll need to find someone within the council willing to back this claim.”

“Thank you,” she said, relief washing over her.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Valerius replied grimly. “This will only work if Acacius can hold the crowd’s attention long enough for me to act. Tell him to be ready.”

“I will,” she said, putting the scroll away, “I will also ensure you are compensated for your efforts.”

Valerius thanked her once more before she pulled the hood of her cloak back over her head, vanishing into the bustling crowd.

The Colosseum loomed like a beast against the morning sky, its towering arches casting long shadows over the bustling crowds. Acacius stood near the main entrance, his cloak drawn tightly around him to conceal his face. The roar of distant cheers echoed through the stone structure, a grim reminder of the bloodlust that had drawn the people here today.

He attempted to remain hidden in the shadows, his jaw tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. The names on the scroll burned in his mind, each one a life he was determined to save.

And yet, even as he surveyed the crowd, his thoughts drifted to Cecilia.

He could still feel the faint brush of her fingers against his hand, the quiet resolve in her voice when she’d insisted on standing by him. Her courage had caught him off guard, piercing through the armor he’d built around himself. She was no soldier, no seasoned warrior hardened by years of battle—but in her determination, she was every bit his equal.

A part of him hated sending her into the city alone. He wanted to go with her, protect her from anything she may face. The thought of her walking into danger twisted his gut. But, he knew she could handle herself, she had survived being married to a bloodthirsty killer. 

If something happened to her…

He shook his head, forcing the thought away. He couldn’t afford to lose focus, not now, not when he felt his entire army’s lives were at stake. Cecilia would succeed—she had to. 

Still, as he moved through the crowd, his gaze flickered toward the horizon, half-expecting to see her weaving through the throng, returning to him with the reassurance he didn’t dare voice aloud. The din of the Colosseum pulled him back to the present. Spectators jostled for position near the gates, eager for the executions to begin. 

If he could sway even a fraction of them, their combined voices could drown out the brothers’ authority. But he would need the perfect moment—and the right words. This wasn’t just about saving the five men condemned to die; it was about exposing the corruption that had poisoned Rome. He knew he must remind these people that they had power, too.

Acacius exhaled, steadying himself as he saw the five men, tied up and thrown to the ground like animals to the slaughter. 

Gaius Tiberius, the youngest of them, barely more than a boy, stared at the ground, his shoulders trembling as he tried and failed to maintain some semblance of composure. Acacius’s chest tightened. He had trained Gaius himself, watched him grow from an eager recruit into a disciplined soldier. The boy had once spoken of a family waiting for him in the countryside—a mother and two younger sisters who depended on his service to survive.

Quintus Publius and Aulus Servius stood side by side, their expressions grim but resolute. They were seasoned veterans, men who had followed Acacius into countless battles without question. Men who would do anything for the people of Rome, to serve a greater purpose. They didn’t deserve this. They had served with honor, their only crime being too loyal to question the council’s orders.

Caius Nero, a man well into his years, stood stoically despite the weight of his bonds. Acacius remembered how Nero had once defended him before the council, arguing for fairness and restraint when punishment was dealt. The man had always valued justice over blind obedience—a quality that had clearly made him a target.

And finally, Manius Cato. He was a former council elder whose calm wisdom had once guided the city through crises. A man whose words knew no limits when it came to saving his people. Now, he stood among the condemned, his grayed hair and dignity bearing a stark contrast to the injustice he was facing.

These men were not criminals or traitors—they were scapegoats, lambs led to slaughter to satisfy the council’s insatiable hunger for control. Acacius’ anger wasn’t enough to dull the guilt gnawing at the edges of his resolve. He had led three of these men in battle, trained them, trusted them—and they had trusted him in return. And now they stood here, awaiting death, because he hadn’t seen the council’s betrayal coming.

 He tried to push those thoughts aside as he scanned the crowd again, searching for the subtle signals he’d arranged with his allies. He would need their help to amplify his voice when the time came.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he held onto the thought of Cecilia—her strength, her trust in him, and the promise they’d made to face this together.

[litcest]

Hamlet, by William Shakespeare

The play The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, more commonly known simple as Hamlet, was written by the English playwright William Shakespeare between 1599 and 1601 (no one knows exactly when).

I, like most people, had to read this play during high school, but all that I got out of it was that Hamlet and Horatio were extremely gay. Any incest subtext was missed by me. However, in the novel Forbidden, the protagonist’s English class study and play and talk about the incestuous subtext that pervades through the play. That, combined with the fact that I had been reading If We Were Villains (not an incest book, but still a good dark academy book), made me go on a Shakespeare frenzy.

One could also look at this play and think of Laertes and Ophelia as a potencial incestuous couple. They are siblings, but Laertes clearly cares a lot for her, to a point one could call romantic.

For reference, I’m using the version of the text available at Folger Shakespeare Library, which I have previous mentioned in my review of ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore. But, before I even begin to tell the story, let me just mention that, Hamlet’s obsession with his mother, Gertrude, is so strong that Freud himself linked their relationship with his Oedipus Complex (here’s another play I should write about, Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex).

Denmark is rule by King Claudius, brother of the recently deceased King Hamlet (yes, the main character of the story should actually be called Hamlet Junior), who married his brother’s widow, Queen Gertrude, in order to secure the throne for himself. Queen Gertrude and King Hamlet had a son, Prince Hamlet, who should have inherited the throne.

Act I

The play opens with the guards talking about the sights of ghost of the deceased King of Denmark, King Hamlet (yes, the main character of the story should actually be called Hamlet Junior). Horatio, friend of Prince Hamlet, is with them and when he sees the ghost himself, and decides to tell the prince. Horatio also mentions that the Prince of Norway, Prince Fortinbras, is planning to invade Denmark to avenge the murder of his father, King Fortinbras of Norway, in the hands of King Hamlet. Damn, these kings have zero creativity on what to name their sons.

The following day, during Court, Laertes, son of Polonius and brother of Ophelia, asks Claudius to be allowed to return to France, a request which is granted. Claudius asks if Hamlet still grieves his father and Hamlet explain he is still in pain over the loss, which Claudius seems to be “unmanly”. Claudius then announces that Hamlet is the successor to the throne and must remain in Denmark to learn the ways of the Court. Left alone on the stage, Hamlet monologues about his father and how quickly his mother had moved on to marry his uncle (his father’s brother).

{Small break to talk about a quote from Hamlet’s soliloquy:

“Within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!”

The ‘incest’ refers only Gertrude marrying her brother-in-law which is considered forbidden by the Church. Gertrude and Claudius aren’t related other than by her marriage to his brother.}

Horatio and two guards come to talk to Hamlet about the sightings of the ghosts, and Hamlet decides that he must see it himself, and asks for the others to keep quiet about it for now.

When the night falls, Hamlet and Horatio go to the ramparts to wait for the ghost. The deceased King shows up and tells his son that he was poisoned and killed by Claudius, “that incestuous, that adulterous beast”. Hamlet vows to avenge his father and they all clear stage. 

Before leaving for France, Laertes advises Ophelia to be careful with Hamlet, because he might say he loves her, but she can’t trust man (is big-bro jealous?). Polonius reiteres this, telling her to reject the Prince’s advances.

Act II

Ophelia tells her father, Polonius, that Hamlet had appeared in her room semi-naked and acting strange. Polonius thinks that Hamlet has been maddened by his love for Ophelia, who had rejected him under advice from Polonius himself, and decides to warn the King.

Meanwhile, Claudius is welcoming two new characters into Denmark, and onto the play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, two friends of Hamlet from college. He wants these friends to find out what has put Hamlet in the strange mood he has been displaying. Polonius then comes forward and presents his theory, which Claudius makes a ploy to test if it’s true.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern meet Hamlet, who quickly figures out they are spying for Claudius and tells them nothing useful. However, the duo does introduces Hamlet to a troupe of actors, which gives Hamlet the idea to set a play with a poisoning to watch how his uncle would react, thus proving his guilt or showcasing his innocence.

Act III

Polonius and Claudius hide and watch as Hamlet talk to Ophelia in order to ascertain if he’s madly in love with her or not. She gives him back the love letters he had sent her and he tells her he no long loves her and that she should go to a convent. He goes on a rant about how women are deceivers and cheaters (totally not projecting his mommy issues into Ophelia) and that no one should marry. Whether this is part of his ‘madness act’ or if it’s how he really feels is up for the reader to interpret. Oh God, did I forget to mention that Hamlet is pretending to be mad to trick Claudius into lowering his guard? Because he’s doing that. Or, at least, he says he’s doing that. Maybe he really went mad.

Ophelia is heartbroken by what Hamlet said to her, and Claudius begins to suspect that Hamlet isn’t mad at all and that he would be better off in England. Polonius isn’t so sure yet and advises Claudius to allow Gertrude to speak to Hamlet alone to try to discover the source of the madness. Oh, 

“My lord, do as you please; But if you hold it fit, after the play Let his queen-mother, all alone, entreat him To show his grief. Let her be round with him.”

The troupe sets up the play and they begin to perform. Gertrude invites Hamlet to sit by her side, but he says he prefer to sit with Ophelia, who is more attractive. When the play gets to the part in which one character is poisoned by his romantic rival, King Claudius orders the play to be stopped and leaves.

Gertrude requests that Hamlet goes to her chambers so they can talk, since his behavior “has struck her into amazement and admiration”. Hamlet prepares himself to talk to her, planning to “speak daggers to her, but use” - or, in other words, he will be verbally harsh, but not aggressive.

“Oh, wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration?”

While making his way to his Gertrude’s chamber, Hamlet overhears Claudius praying for forgiveness for having killed King Hamlet, but Prince Hamlet does nothing, as he think it’s wrong to kill his uncle during prayers. Polonius hides behind Gertrudes draperies to overhear what Hamlet has to say.

When Hamlet arrives, he tells Gertrude that her actions are an offense to his father and they fight bitterly.

Gertrude: “Have you forgot me?” Hamlet: “No, by the rood, not so. You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife, And (would it were not so) you are my mother.”

Above, Hamlet tells her he wishes she wasn’t his mother. Is it because he’s ashamed of what she has done by marrying Claudius or is it because if she wasn’t his mother he would be able to marry her himself? 

Upon hearing that, Gertrude tries to leave, but Hamlet stops her. She asks if he’s going to kill her. In his hiding spot, Polonius calls for help, and Hamlet, thinking it’s Claudius, stabs him. Polonius is fatally wounded but, before dying, says “Oh, I am slain!” (Imagine someone dying and while they bleed out they say “Oh, I got murdered!”

Gertrude is horrofyed by this and Hamlet says that it’s as bad a killing a king. He goes on to call her a hypocrite, acuse her of conspiring to kill his father, belittles her for having married and ugly man (what, do you wish she had married you instead, Hammy?) and says that she has sex in a nasty bed. He also tries to convince her that he can talk to King Hamlet’s ghost and she says he had gone insane. Hamlet pleas once more with her, telling her to not go to Claudius room that night, before he leaves, dragging Polonius corpse with him.

Act IV

Gertrude tells Claudius that Hamlet killed Polonius and, fearing for his life, Claudius sends Hamlet to England with a letter asking the King of England to execute Hamlet as soon as possible.

Upon learning of her father’s death, Ophelia goes mad. Laertes, her brother, returns from France and vows to avenge his father by killing Hamlet, who escaped from Claudius plot in England and has returned to Denmark. Claudius decides to use this for his advantage and suggests that Laertes challenges Hamlet to a duel to death. If Hamlet wins, than Claudius will poison him in the celebratory banquet. At same time that Hamlet’s returns, Ophelia drowns herself.

Claudius: “The Queen his mother Lives almost by [Hamlet’s] looks.”

In the above quote, taken from Claudius conversation with Laertes, we can see that the King himself recognizes that his wife loves her son very much, to the point that he says that she lives for the moments in which Hamlet looks at her, which makes me think that perhaps Hamlet incestuous love might be reciprocated. 

Act V

Hamlet joins Ophelia’s funeral procession, saying that he loved her, which enrages Laertes, given that it’s Hamlet’s fault that Ophelia died (if Hamlet hadn’t killed Polonius, Ophelia wouldn’t have gone mad) and the two men fight. Instead of finishing their battle right there, they do as gentlemen of the time did and set up a duel.

May I point out that, as Ophelia’s coffin was being laid in the ground, Laertes leapt into the grave to hold her once more.

Laertes: “Hold off the earth awhile,Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.”

During the duel, Claudius prepares the poisoned wine in secret. To toast in honor of Hamlet scoring his second hit on Laertes, Gertrudes goes to take a drink of wine. Claudius tells her not do it but in what is her first time defying his word, she says she will do it anyway and takes a sip.

Laertes decides to strike Hamlet with his poisoned rapier and they struggle. Somehow, Hamlet ends up in the possession of the poisoned rapier and slashes Laertes. Gertrude falls to the ground and announces she has been poisoned. 

Gertrude: “No, no, the drink, the drink! O, my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poisoned.”

Laertes, regretting his part in the plan, tells Hamlet it was Claudius, and Hamlet promptly stabs his uncle with the poisoned rapier and forces him to drink the wine. Horatio tries to drink from the cup to die with Hamlet (very Romeo and Juliet, if you ask me) but Hamlet tells him to keep living and make sure to tell Hamlet’s story.

Coincidently, just as this all was happening, Fortinbras, Prince of Norway, arrives at the palace and Hamlet declares him as the successor of the Danish throne. And that’s it, that’s the play.

Oedipus in Denmark?

In here, I’ll try to make my case about the existence of an incestuous subtext in Hamlet.

The first point anyone would make against Hamlet being in love with Gertrude is that Hamlet is in love with Ophelia, he says as much. To that, I will quote Jones (1910): “Hamlet's courtship of Ophelia originated not so much in direct attraction for her as in a half-conscious desire to play her off against his mother.” If your beloved isn’t paying you attention, why not try to make them jealous by being with another? We can call back to the scene in which Hamlet, Gertrude and Ophelia are watching the play and Hamlet tells Gertrude that Ophelia is “more attractive”. Considering that, when in private, Hamlet had just rejected Ophelia, one might say that he did that only to make Gertrude jealous.

When talking to her about Claudius, Hamlet seems to be more bothered by Gertrude sharing a bed with another man then by the fact that Claudius killed King Hamlet. He emphasizes a lot on his mother sexual life, going in length on watch he doesn't wishes his mother to do:

Hamlet: “Not this by no means that I bid you do: Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed, Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse, And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers”

Could Hamlet’s repressed feelings towards his mother have led to an obsession with her? Is he trying to use his hatred of Claudius to justify his anger and deflect from the jealousy he feels upon thinking of her with another men? Perhaps Hamlet’s internal struggle isn’t on whether he should kill Claudius or not, but rather on whether he can allow himself to love Gertrude in a romantic way or not. Perhaps Polonius was write and Hamlet had gone mad after being rejected by his beloved: not Ophelia, but Gertrude, who chose Claudius over him.

References:

Jones, Ernest. “The Œdipus-Complex as an Explanation of Hamlet’s Mystery: A Study in Motive.” The American Journal of Psychology, vol. 21, no. 1, 1910, pp. 72–113.