#Roman Emperor Septimius Severus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kabuki-writes · 5 days ago

Text

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #general acacius #geta x reader #caracalla x reader #joseph quinn #pedro pascal #fred hechinger #gladiator ii fic #kabuki writes

520 notes · View notes

missadangel · 3 months ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

All Chapters List

I. Heal the Heart

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, nescio. Sed fieri sentior et excrucior. I love you and I hate you. Why I do this, I have no idea. But I feel it happening and I’m in agony. [Catullus]

Following the conquest of Egypt and its incorporation into the Roman Empire, there was a growing interest in its ancient culture. Over time, many in Egypt began to express a desire for greater autonomy and control over their own affairs. Dissatisfaction with Roman control over Egypt became part of the Egyptian psyche.

This is precisely why, immediately after the death of Emperor Septimius Severus, preparations for revolt began in Egypt. His emperor sons Caracella and Geta were already doing little else but quarreling with each other, drinking and having fun, watch gladiators fighting and feeling proud of themselves. Even when they were informed that their subjects in Egypt had revolted, they continued to do what they were doing. They didn't care about anything but themselves and their daily activities.

The Egyptians were aware of this, of course, they knew they could not be a strong soldier like their emperor father. They were quite sure that the day would come when they, with the help of the Greeks, would put the Roman governors in Egypt to the sword. After all, they had been making preparations since the death of Severus. There were Jews among them too, all of them insistent on establishing the sovereignty of ancient Egypt, but there was one thing they did not consider or pay much attention to.

General Marcus Acacius.

They say, you can feel the ground shake when he walks on it. He makes his opponents feel certain of their own death at the very moment he draws his sword. A daring commander with few who could stand up to him. It is unclear whether this is an exaggeration or not, but it is still rumored that he cut a lion in half in the Colosseum.

A beast in every sense of the word.

More than that, he is a leader who manages his legions very well and spur them on to achieve success during the war, a man who has not yet tasted a failure, well-earned the title of general in every way.

Since it was obvious that no one else could succeed in suppressing the rebellion, he was immediately sent to the region with the intervention of his Empresss Julia Domna, the mother of the two emperors.

Just like she guessed, he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion, of course, no doubt, as soon as his name rang through, the rebels, along with all the inhabitants of Egypt, have knew that they already defeated.

Some were forced to surrender, those who resisted and fled were found and killed by the Roman soldiers, but not all. The general didn't kill the surrendered ones, he took them as captives which was pretty fair for a beast. In contrast to him, the ones who fled were not, they were so desperate that they didn't know what to do and they started attacking everything and everywhere like rabid dogs.

They even attempted to violate the laws of war and mapped out a plan to kill the General and his soldiers, and even all the medics, in the night at their camps. It was a suicide mission, but they were on the verge of success.

'Has anyone seen the General? He's not in his tent!' A burly soldier strode in, holding his sword which was covered in the blood of the rebel he had just killed. He looked through all the tents one by one, moving quickly and with a concerned look on his face.

The clinking of swords echoed in the darkness as the soldiers cut down the last remaining rebels to death with their swords.

Soon, the soldier ran to his General, relieved to see him, but he was wounded in the abdomen moments ago. As he gently pressed his hand to his injury, a small amount of blood emerged, shining like rubies under the moonlight as it dripped from between his strong fingers onto the grass. His attackers were no longer alive, they were all lying on the ground, were literally cut to ribbons. They attacked him in his sleep when he was wearing nothing but his tunic, catching him off guard. He nodded to the soldier, demanding assistance as his white tunic transformed into a crimson hue. He had been wounded many times before, countless times, but this was nothing like before and was undoubtedly the worst injury he had ever sustained. ‘I think, I… got…,’ he groaned, it hurt much even when he speaks, feeling like beneath the wound his blood was boiling. ‘…poisoned.’ These were the last words spilled from his lips before his enormous body slumping to his knees, collapse altogether to the ground.

The woman with waist-length with black hair was dragging you along with her as she walking across the meadow, you were struggled, couldn’t control your feet, as if the ground was sliding under. She had her hands outstretched at her sides, even though her back was turned, it was not difficult to see her smile by the sunlight reflecting the curve of her chin. She abruptly ceased her movement and bent down to gather a few herbs in a meadow. She plucked them, gathered them in her palms, and kissed them. You heard the whispers between her lips and the harmony of the wind rippling through your ears. It was clear that she was blessing these herbs. When she turned to you, you staggered backwards, hypnotized by her face, so beautiful, mesmerizing, her eyes hypnotizing yours, it was impossible to look away, no escape from them.

Perhaps even more surprising than anything else was that her face and eyes were identical to yours. It really was truly astonishing. She handed you the plants like they were rare jewelry. You could see her arms shone in the sun, and her skin looked like fine marble. It was impossible to believe that it could be human skin; it must have been that of a goddess, but why did her face resemble yours?

'Heal the heart, child,' her voice sang through the meadow like a gentle breeze. You couldn't move your lips, but she heard you anyway.

‘Heart?’

A warm wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman came closer, startling you. Her hazel eyes were turning green under the sun. As she slightly opens her lips, you locked your eyes on them and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘The heart of Rome,’ almost whispers, ‘Serve it,’ a little loud now like commanding, ‘Heal it...’ again whispers then gently puts the herbs on your hand.

A strong wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman danced with the wind. The sunny sky burst into a starry night as the wind embraced the silhouette and rose to the sky, to the stars. You felt the ground under your feet, but your eyes were drawn to the enchanting sky.

As the wind finally gave way to the silent night, you looked at the herbs you were holding in your hand. These kind of herbs you were used to seeing almost every day, but what you were not used to seeing was that they were sparkling like diamonds between your fingers. It was as if you could feel their healing power on your skin.

Abruptly, you heard the voice again, echoing across the meadow. Your ears were once more caressed, blessed, but this time, the words were different.

‘Cure him…’

You barely heard your name being called and your body was shaking, slowly opened your eyes, you saw a familiar but worried face.

‘Wake up, please, you need to get up now,’ the concern in the man's voice brought you back to reality, the effect of the dream disappearing like a cloud of dust between the stone walls and dissipating into the air.

‘Uncle?’

You had rarely seen this face of your uncle who had taken you in when you were an orphan, who cared for you, protected you and raised you well more than any other father or mother ever would.

You sat up from the firm mattress you were lying on, ‘I thought we were travelling tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, that's not why I woke you up,’ he put your big dark cloak over your head. ‘You need to hide.’

You were startled to hear shouting and footsteps coming from outside the wooden door of the room. This was not the sort of noise you would normally expect to hear in this Valetudinarium (hospital, clinic) at this late hour.

‘What is going on?’ You rub your eyes with your fingers, trying to figure out the situation.

Your uncle tucked your hair deeper into your cloak.

'The Roman soldiers are gathering all the medici (psychians). I have to go with them.'

'Roman soldiers? I thought they left after they put down the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands. Besides, they already have medici with them why they-?'

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his anxiety evident.

'Some rebels with indigestion murdered all the medici in their tents, and then-'

A soldier's voice was heard from one of the nearby rooms. You both turned your heads in that direction, startled, and then looked at each other again.

'General, they targeted him. They attacked him in his sleep. He got them, but he got poisoned. They want me to save him.'

‘Poisoned? But Uncle, he might already be dead, if you won’t be able to cure him they'll blame you or punish you and-’

‘Don’t think about it now, go and hide, as a woman you are not allowed to be here remember? You have to hide and wait for my return.’

The soldiers' voices were heard very close by.

‘No, I'll come with you, if it's aspis (venomous snake in Nile region) venom we'll use the same techniques as before, like we did with the boy last time, it would take too long to make an antivenom on your own, let me help you.’

‘It's too dangerous for you my dearest, to go among the soldiers, even if you wear these men clothes, we can't hide the beauty of your face, dear.’

You strode over to the cauldron in the fireplace and ran your hands over the soot that had accumulated underneath it.

‘It worked before,’ you said, rubbing a little soot on your cheeks.

‘Only at the market. This time it's more dangerous. I'd never forgive myself if I couldn't protect you there.’

‘Don't worry. I'll be back here as soon as we've finished with the antivenom. I know all the paths and shortcuts very well now.’

Suddenly a soldier burst in, kicking the door angrily, you shuddered.

‘You two! Get out, now! We don't have time!

‘We're making sure to collect all medical supplies, sir,’ he turned to you. ‘Come on, boy, don't dawdle!’

You nodded without looking at soldier, grabbed all medicine bottles.

‘You'd better hurry!’

As soon as the soldier left the room, your uncle moved swiftly to the corner and opened the small wooden chest. He took out a cream-coloured envelope of slightly worn paper, sealed with a wax seal bearing the emblem of Septimius Severus.

'This is…'

'I was going to give this to you tomorrow as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here.'

You took the envelope from him with shaking hands. The previous emperor himself had sealed it. You wondered what it meant.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you, making sure you understood how important this letter was.

‘No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it, hide it like your life depends on it, you'll understand why.’

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard. You tucked the letter into the bag hanging around your neck and hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, making them rattle in the process.

‘Aya, you’re going to have to choose,’ he looked at you before leaving the room.

‘Choose what uncle?’

‘To run or stay. It’ll make sense when you read the letter,’ he checked the hall and grabbed your wrist. You were so confused but you had to think about this later.

'We have to get out now, soldiers are outside, quick!'

The soldiers had gathered all the medici they could find in the army headquarters, near the tents. There were seven of them yet were unable to find a solution to the General's injury. When it was only you and your uncle who were next, a burly soldier, who was of a higher rank than the others, approached you two. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Everyone was in a rush, with almost all of them mobilized to save the general's life. Your gender didn't matter to them, for now. As you were about to follow your uncle into the tent, the soldier stopped you by raising his hand.

‘Only the medicus.’

‘My aide, sir, let him in. He's as expert as I am.’

As your uncle is their last hope, he let you in, but did not follow you inside, stands guard outside the tent. The General's squire was standing right next to him, he looked at you with tears in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. The sorrow had taken possession of everything inside the tent, and you could feel it right down to your bones.

The General was lying on a mattress in the west corner of the tent. He was unconscious, but you noticed that his lips were moving, like murmuring. You moved forward to look closer to see his face, which you had been so curious about.

His face was exactly as you had imagined, and yet not. He had many scars, as if he had been born with them, his light brown skin embracing them. His moustache and beard were partially grey, his nose and chin perfectly shaped, as if the Prometheus had spent more time shaping this man. His face was stunning, and it made your heart beat fast. You had never felt this way about any other man, well you never had an opportunity to do though.

You were somewhat disappointed to see his eyes closed. You were curious about what they might look like, and you were eager to see what he would look like when he opened them. When you found yourself wanting to touch his face, you were a little surprised. For a moment, you forgot why you were there. Your uncle had already picked up the sword with which General had been wounded and was examining the blood on it. You went over to help him, keeping one eye on the general, lying there with his imposing body and half of the white tunic he wore dyed red.

Your heart constricted with pain, and the dream you had came vividly to mind.

‘Cure him.’

‘We need to check his wound!’ You were startled by your uncle's loud voice, squinting at you, you felt ashamed.

As your uncle beckoned, you approached him, seeing the wound was not deep but the skin around the cut starting to get pale from the venom and the edges curling inwards.

‘He doesn't have much time, let's start making the antivenom now,’ he swallowed, the wound was really getting worse, you had to cure him no matter what.

Maybe, you thought, this is why the Gods showed you this in your dream, they warned you in advance that your life depends on it.

The process of making the antivenom took slightly longer than anticipated, but you persevered admirably. Your uncle cleaned the wound to neutralize it while you were perspiring from the fabric of your clothes. Once the antivenom was finally administered, your uncle applied the antidote carefully to the wound but he was exhausted, fingers are shaking so you helped him even you were feeling so tired too. Your eyelids were almost closed but you managed to complete your duty perfectly.

The soldier from earlier came into the tent to check the process, you bowed your head, and stepped back.

'We've cleaned the wound, once its neutralized, applied the antidote. We just need to wait now,' your uncle informed him, wiping sweat off his forehead. 'We need to give him some time, and make sure he drinks water soon to avoid dehydration.’

As the solider checking the wound you turned your head to look at the squire boy who was sobbing just ago, already fallen asleep. Poor boy, you thought.

The soldier ordered you to leave the tent and wait outside.

You felt your arms and legs go numb with fatigue and collapsed to the ground, sat cross-legged, trying hard to stay awake. Your uncle was same but he still struggled to sleep. In the end, he couldn't control his eyelids.

You woke up to the sound of the soldiers shouting and arguing. You turned your head, couldn't make out what they were disagreeing about, but they were making a lot of noise.

'You better go in and make sure the General drinks some water. He needs to stay hydrated,' your uncle said in firmly, watching the soldiers probably keep an eye on them.

The tent was empty except for the General. The soldier from earlier was outside, reassuring the other soldiers. You approached to check him. His forehead was covered in sweat, his body was fighting with venom. You quickly grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it gently on his forehead. Then you touched his lips with your thin, fragile fingers. You felt something intense growing inside you. As a secret medicus, you have touched the face and other parts of the body of many men and women to cure them. However, touching this man's face and lips was never like touching others.

You took a deep breath to pull yourself together. This was nonsense.

You made his lips crack open and dipped a rag into the fresh water in the copper pot. You pressed it against the general's rather dry, pale lips, squeezing it through his mouth.

After repeatedly doing this, you decided you had enough. Just before you withdrew your hand, the general's strong hand grabbed yours with a firm grip. You were surprised and moaned in pain, opened your hand with pressure, and the rag fell to the ground.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked at his face. He opened those eyes you had been so curious about and looked at you with a cold, calculating gaze, squeezing your wrist so tightly you felt it would break in a minute. You stifled a scream and moaned in pain, 'Sir, I'm here for help.' You sounded almost as if you were crying, and suddenly he moaned in pain as well, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the effort drained him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing quickened.

When he finally released your wrist, you threw yourself backwards for dear life, rubbed your wrist with your other hand and stroked it, praying to the Gods to take the pain away. You could have sworn to Jupiter that if he had squeezed your wrist any harder, you would have heard a cracking sound coming from your bones.

How could he possibly be so strong even when exhausted, so close to death?

As the pain receded, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Your thin wrist was painted the red like poppies, as if the shadows of his fingers were engraved on your skin.

You glanced timidly over your shoulder, he was still lying with his eyes closed, but you had just made a terrible mistake, he heard your voice, must have noticed you were a woman, and only the Gods knew what he would do when he came to his senses.

You had to leave immediately, wrapping your wrist in a clean piece of cloth and tucking the sleeve of your dress into it so that the bandage wouldn't be visible. When you came out of the tent, your uncle grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the tent.

‘Uncle, the General seemed to opened his eyes for a moment and heard my voice, he might remember when he awakens,' you said in a whisper, hoping no one have heard you.

‘Gods have mercy upon us,’ he glanced down, murmuring, then grabbed you by shoulders. “Time to go, you need to leave now. Go by following the path through the woods. Soldiers having a disagreement about something, I think they found out-‘

‘You, medicus, come here,’ one of the soldiers shouted at your uncle.

Your uncle gestured to you with his eyes, saying ‘go now’,

'You too!' you gasped as you realised the soldier waving his hand at you.

'Sir, he should stay with the General...' your uncle stepped in front of you to protect you.

'I said come, both of you, now,' he wasn’t asking, it was a firm order.

As you took tentative steps towards the place where the other soldiers were forming a circle beside your uncle, your heart began to beat as if it were going to burst. These were the soldiers who had just fought, and you wondered if they hurt each other, but you could not see anyone hurt or wounded.

On the contrary, they looked at you curiously, only at you.

‘That's nonsense, Dimitrus, this boy can't be a girl,' said one soldier pointing you with a small knife in his hand.

Your uncle was standing next to you, his fear having come true, his face taut with worry.

As the soldier, who you guessed was named Dimitrus, approached you, your uncle took a step in front of him, but the soldier easily overpowered him and pushed him aside. The soldier looked at your body from top to bottom. You bowed your head and clenched your fists. Your heart pounded in your chest as your breathing quickened. He yanked down your hood of your cloak with his big hands, other soldiers came nearby for a better look.

Your hair was tied up at the back of your head, and the soldier's grin widened when he noticed. He drew his dagger from its holster, and when you saw your uncle's worried face behind the soldier's formidable arm, you began to pray to all the Gods.

He grabbed your bun with his hand and cut the hairband with his dagger, your golden-brown wavy hair falling over your shoulders. The soldiers laughed and whistled. Dimitrus looked at them with a cocky smile and turned back to you.

‘Such a long hair for a aide boy, eh?’

'A girl, indeed,' said one soldier, looking at you with disbelief.

‘I told you I could smell a woman a mile away,’ he laughed, his voice booming.

'Please,' you demanded, feeling unable to do anything else. A feeling of despair took control of your whole body.

‘What is going on here?’ The burly soldier approached and noticed your new look, looking at you in astonishment. Dimitrus grabbed you by the hair and pulled you towards him. He then grabbed your chin and turned your face to Octavius.

'Look at her. You don't even know that the medicus brought a girl with him, Octavius?' And you're the general's right-hand man!’

You struggled to move your body, but he was so strong.

‘Hey, I can't see her face clearly!'

You closed your eyes tightly as someone threw wine on your face. Dimitrus wiped your face with his big fingers, rubbing roughly.

'Gods, no ordinary beauty,' looking at you like a hungry wolf, then smells your hair making you feel nauseous.

You tried to look away, but your eyes met your uncle's desperate gaze.

‘That's enough, Dimitrus, let her go, is this what you all thinking while our General lies there like that?’

You rushed to your uncle's side as his hands released your hair.

‘He's already dead, I've never seen anyone get up after being poisoned,’ he says as if he was looking forward to his death.

Octavius drew his sword with a schwing. ‘How dare you! Say that again and I'll cut your tongue off!’ he growled.

Dimitrus' followers drew their swords as well. Octavius looked at each of them with anger and disbelief. He has been betrayed.

‘You filthy rats! I'll kill you one by one!’ He waved his long sword at them.

Dimitrus grabbed your uncle by the collar, 'Start with this one. Who knows what he gave the General instead of medicine?'

‘Yes, he must be punished!’

'Punish him, Octavius!'

They were all yelling at him by raising their swords, you were thinking a way out but there wasn’t any.

‘If you won't, I will,' Dimitrus pointed his swords end at your uncle.

‘No!' you cried but your uncle stopping you with his hand.

Then, as Octavius raised his hand and was about to lunge at him, Dimitrus plunged his sword through your uncle's stomach, the poor man groaning in pain and falling to his knees, and as you ran towards him, he drew back his sword, his blood splashing in your face with the force of the draw. Your body began to shake and you felt paralysed as you watched his lifeless body fall to the ground.

'Dimitrus!' Octavius roared, ‘You've gone too far! What do you think our general will do to you when he awakens?’

You collapsed to your knees in shock, your body rigid and still, your face expressionless yet tears streaming down your cheeks.

'General? You failed to save him, you let that medicus get into his tent, you must share his fate! I will tell the emperors that this is your fault! And I think we should put the general out of his misery-'

Suddenly, an axe emerged from nowhere and plunged into Dimitrus' chest deeply. His body reeled back, shaking, then fell to the ground lying backwards, dying in a pool of blood as everyone looked at him in astonishment and panic. Blood gushed from where his chest had been split open, and when he stopped breathing, laying there as his eyes remained wide open.

They turned their head to see who had thrown the axe and they were shocked once again.

The general could barely stands near his tent, his eyes filled with rage, his gaze blazing with fury. Octavius ran to his side quickly.

'General! Thank Gods you're finally awake!’

'What's going on here, Octavius?' his voice was like a roar.

‘Sir, Dimitrus and others have attempted to mutiny.’

Acacius gave the other soldiers a deathly stare and they immediately kneeled down with their swords upside down.

'No, sir, we did not.’

'Forgive me, sir, it was Dimitrus doing.’

'Sir, please forgive me.’

You closed your uncle's eyelids with your fingers as they all begged for forgiveness. Your back was turned to the General, you didn't care if you live or die, you didn’t care about anything. You felt your whole life was already over.

'If any of you ever dare to do anything like this again,' he walked near Dimitrus’ body and pulled the axe from his chest roughly, you startled by the crunching sound coming from his bones.

'I Marcus Acacius, will make sure that he meets the same fate as this scum!'

He put them all in their place, they all nodded in fear and stood up with his gesture, bowing their heads though couldn't look him in the face.

'Now get ready, we must sail at dawn!'

‘Yes sir!’

All of them sheathing their swords, spreading around in rush.

Acacius staggered a little as they gone at his sight, his wound still hurting but he tried hard not to show them.

Octavius touched his arm, 'Sir, the Gods have spared your life but please rest a little longer.’

'Who is this man?’

You were certain he was talking about your uncle, even though your back was turned to him.

'The medicus who cured you, sir, Dimitrus got mad and killed him because he thought he couldn't save you.'

'As if we haven't lost enough medici tonight. He was wrong obviously. This man managed to cure me. I'm standing thanks to him,' he turned his head to Octavius. 'Make sure this man's body reaches his family. Let the governor know about this. They should fulfil all ritual arrangements.'

Octavius nodded, "Yes sir, I will."

Then both turned their gaze to you. 'What about this one?'

Your body was petrified, you felt the time of execution has come, you’ve never expected the last moments of your life to be like this.

‘I think this was his aide or slave sir, Dimitrus found out she was a woman, that medicus was hiding her, sir,’ he bowed his head in shame, you swallowed.

Acacius' pain returned, he groaned in pain, Octavius grabs his waist gently, "Sir, please rest, you need to get your strength back.’

'Sir!' Acacius' squire came and put his arm under his.

It was time for him to turn his back to you.

‘Since her master has died, take this girl to the other slaves, I don't want any more chaos or mishap,’ he said in a firm voice.

You wiped tears from your eyes with the back of your hand as their footsteps faded away. Two soldiers came and grabbed your arms, lifted you off the ground while the others carrying your uncle’s body. When you turned your head, glancing over your shoulder, saw the General's curly grey hairs and his well-shaped nose before he went into his tent.

Your body was filled with rage.

What you heard was only a heightening of your pain and a deepening of your hurt.

A slave? How could he say that? The one who cured him was now worthy of being a slave?

As the mid-morning sun began to reflect on the walls of Rome through the haze that filled the

harbour, the capital was preparing to experience one of the most active days in its history. Everyone who noticed the navy ships approaching the harbour from afar, citizens, subjects, foreign mission chiefs, tradesmen, civil servants, porters, all filled the entrance of the city. They were waiting to welcome General Marcus Acacius and the glorious Roman soldiers. On the deck of the large ship at the forefront of the fleet, the General sighs deeply as he looks out over his city, thanking Mars for his triumphant and healthy return.

It ten days to get from the port of Alexandria to Rome, a very difficult experience for you, travelling with captives called slaves. Most of them were Greeks and Egyptians, and the fact that the streets of the Roman capital were filled with shouts of joy was of no interest to them. On board the ship they were constantly told that the slave market in the capital was a very prestigious place, that the young girls would be well brought up by certain families, that they should stop crying, that they should pray to Jupiter to make the wealthy families could like them and buy them with high prices.

But you were not like those slaves, you were not a prisoner of war, nor was your family enslaved or poor. Your uncle was a renowned and esteemed medicus. He was a member of an affluent family. He and his wife found you on the banks of the River Nile when you were three years old. That is what they told you. The gods had not blessed them with a child, so they loved you as much as their own. You knew he wasn't your real father or uncle, but you were very happy with your life and didn't ask too many questions until he told you about that letter the night before the night that ruined your life.

As an orphan, you were brought up well by your uncle, learning all about Egyptian medicine, performing countless surgeries at his side, bringing many people back to life -including the general himself- and learning enough to become an expert. But, no one could call you as medicus because you were a woman, yet your talents were too great to be ignored. No matter who you told on this ship, no one would believe you, and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

As you looked out through the small cracks between the planks of the ship, your eyes travelled over the seemingly endless sea. You couldn't stop thinking about the dream you had that night.

‘Cure him.’

Wouldn't it have been better if you haven't cure him? Perhaps your uncle would still be alive. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting on this ship now, resigned to your fate, wondering, worrying what will happen to you. Is this your reward for healing the great Roman general?

That man ruined your life, and you only did yourself a disservice by saving him.

Perhaps the gods were testing you, but what was the lesson?

You looked at the shadow of the General's fingers under the piece of cloth you had wrapped around your wrist. The color was that of violets caressed by moonlight days ago. Now, it is unmistakably that color, doesn’t hurt much anymore.

As the ship rumbled into port, you realized that it was time to accept your fate. In the dark and damp bilge of the ship, you and a girl close to your age called Decima took turns using the same swing as a bed, you liked each other very much and in desperation you became confidants. She was in her early twenties, beautiful yet you were in your late twenties, ahead of her in beauty. Her father was a rebel, probably killed by the General's men, and she was taken as captive. You told her almost everything except the letter that you’re hiding in your bag.

As soon as you stepped into the harbour, the discrimination began, the general and his men moved in the other direction, while the trader man of slaves were standing in front of you ordered you to move somewhere else.

You frowned as you saw his face in the distance over the shoulders of the people in the crowd, he looked very healthy, his body had managed to overcome the venom of the past few days and his wound has healed. You remembered how you had spent hours with your uncle trying to cure him, how you had struggled for hours to make the antidote while your arms and wrists ached with pain.

The General's face lit up with a warm smile as he waved his hand at his citizens, you were surprised to find that all your anger has vanished for a moment.

You turned your head away, looking at him would only cause you pain. He didn't look at you because he hasn't seen your face yet -well not clearly-, furthermore, you’ve never met face to face, to him you’re just a slave nothing more. Octavius however, recognised you from a distance. He was the only one who has witnessed your hard work. He was an honorable men, didn’t like to see you among the slaves, yet he has nothing to do, it was his General's order.

In the evening of that day, after the slaves were taken to the baths and then to the slave market for sale, you and Decima were taken by the slaver man to a separate cell. From outside, one could hear the sounds of a lively market, where slaves were being sold one by one. There was a great deal of interest in these new slaves from Egypt.

Slaver man appeared at the door of your cell in the market with a man over your age looks wealthy. Decima immediately stood up, but you did not. The slaver gestured with his hand, turning Decima around in the center and showing her arms, face and feet, squinting at you meanwhile.

‘Look at these strong and beautiful young girls, sir, I wouldn’t show you any poor slaves, they are both virgins, and they are very beautiful, the great Venus has bestowed her beauty on these girls. They would fetch a lot of money if they went to the market, but I thought I would show them to you first sire.’ He was blandishing much, but the man's eyes were locked on you.

‘Doesn't she have any manners? Why doesn't she stand up?’

‘You're right sir, she must be a bit sick from travelling, she will,’ he gestured to you with his hand, ‘Come on, get up, girl.’

You rolled your eyes and got up, he squeezed your arm hard to warn you first, then did everything what he had done to Decima, opening almost every part of your body for the other man to see. It was incredibly disgusting, you felt like an animal being sold at the cattle market.

‘The other one is younger, but this one is so beautiful, a rare one,’ he said, grabbed you by arm, looking at you hungrily. ‘How much do you want for this one?’

Your eyes meet with Decima in a silent exchange, as it was time to go your separate ways.

‘Eight thousand sesterces, sire.’

He pursed his lips, thinking, his fingers touching your hair mean while you were closing your eyes, praying for a miracle.

‘Ten thousand sesterces!’

A familiar voice of a man echoed through stone walls. You all turned your heads to that direction.

‘General Marcus Acacius offers ten thousand sesterces for this girl!’ Octavius’ imposing body appeared, he came towards them with his armor making a sharp noise with every step. He threw a big coin pouch to the slaver, who caught it with a big smile on his face.

‘Sold, of course,’ he was counting the coins with happy face.

Then Octavius firmly grabbed the other man's arm that was still touching you, lifted it, and pushed it away. He frowned.

‘This girl belongs to General Acacius now, sir, you must not touch her,’ he warned him gently but firmly.

As the general entered the city in his chariot, the people shouted his name. He waved his hand to them, and the streets were filled with a great enthusiasm as everyone gathered to honour the general and his soldiers. The chariot carrying him soon passed under the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus and turned towards the Curia Julia, the Senate building, where the emperors must have been waiting for him. The general's smile faded. He was tired and not looking forward to seeing them, but he would not go to his villa before visiting the emperors.

As General strode purposefully up the marble stairs, Geta and Caracella leapt down from their golden imperial thrones in excitement. As soon as Geta saw him, he opened his arms wide.

‘How can I reward Rome's greatest general?'

'By letting him catch his breath first,' Caracella smiled widely.

Acacius stopped in front of them and nodded, 'Emperors.'

'We have been eagerly awaiting for your arrival, general,' Geta clasped his hands together, looking at him with admiration.

'Speak for yourself, brother. My legs ache from sitting for so long,' Caracella said, then laughed loudly. 'But it was worth it, indeed!'

‘Indeed!’ They both laughed once more, but Caracella looking at his brother a bit strange way.

It was hard to tell if Caracella wanted to embrace Geta or if wanted to take his life right then and there. The relationship between the two of them was quite distorted.

The general rolled his eyes, he was used to these two whiny emperors half of his age bickering at each other all the time, he sighed in frustration at having to put up with them when he could easily take both their lives with a single stroke of his sword. Unfortunately, this unpleasant situation had only just begun.

‘We heard that you were poisoned, how did it feel?’ Geta looked at him with wide eyes and smile.

The news must have reached the emperors before the general had even boarded the ship.

'Painful, your highness,' Acacius stated, a shadow passing over his brown eyes as he remembered the pain again.

'I'm sure it was, it must have been an interesting experience.’ Caracella crossed his arms; smiling just like his brother.

‘Cobra or viper?’

‘Aspis, highness, the viper type.’

‘Oh, I won!’ Geta jumped for joy and gestured to Caracella with his hand, imitating a snake.

Caracella ignored him looking at the General.

‘The rebels must have quite a sense of humour, poisoning a Roman General carrying Medusa on his chest with a snake, quite ironic,’ he touched Medusa on General's armor with his index finger.

Acacius frowned while looking at him, ‘They certainly do, they murdered all our medici mercilessly, fortunately the great Asclepius sent his help, my men brought another medicus from city was able to cure me, it is thanks to him that I can stand here in front of you, highness,’ Acacius remembered the memory when he was unsure whether it was a dream or not but he could not get out of his mind the fingers that touched his lips, the owner of those hazel eyes that came to his aid when his throat was dry from thirst. But it couldn't be medicus he thought, it had to be someone with thin fingers, someone with beautiful eyes he had never seen before. Maybe, since he was too close to death, it was a dream or a goddess has appeared to him, he couldn't be sure.

The first thing he remembers is opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his survival instinct. He thought it was a strange looking young man in a hood, maybe another rebel had come to kill him again, but then he heard her voice and thought his goddess had come to heal him. He was in so much pain and seeing hallucinations that he couldn't tell if it was a dream or not. But couldn’t get rid of those thoughts since days.

The emperors didn't seem to care much about the medicis the general was talking about, or how he had recovered, and Acacius seemed bored as they continued to joke with each other.

‘Mother,' Geta ran to her as he noticed the Empress approaching, extends his arm for her.

Julia Domna took his arm as she coming towards Acacius, whispering something into Geta’s ear, without taking her eyes off the General.

‘My lady,’ Acacius nodded to her.

Domna's smile was like Caracella's, you could never guess what she was thinking.

‘General, how good it is to see you return triumphant once more. Rome salutes you, and I embrace you,’ she approached him with open arms and put her hands Acacius’ board shoulders.

Caracella sat back on his throne, a bored look on his face.

‘My Lady, the honour is mine,’ the general said, bowing his head.

‘We shall sacrifice 1000 bulls to honor our triumphant mother!’ Geta clapped his hands excitedly, ‘Let's have a great feast tonight!’

‘Highness, let's give the General some time to rest, he must be tired from the battle,’ Domna removed her hands from the General's shoulders but kept her eyes on him.

Caracella let out a high, shrill laugh that echoed through the white marble columns. Geta sat on his throne and scowled.

‘Marcus, walk with me,’ the Empress turned round, gestured to him.

Acacius sighed, he didn't want to be alone with her, but he had to. Domna walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind her back, he followed her slowly.

‘My sons are glad to see you again, even if they have no idea how fortunate they are to have you serving them.’

'It is my duty to serve Rome.’

She paused and smiled, watching the water in the pool shimmer in the sunlight, the glow reflecting off her bright skin, her expression was difficult to read.

'I think you have a talent for survival.’

She sounded dissatisfied. 'After all, you trained under Maximus, you must have learned a lot from him.’

He looked away, 'I owe where I am today to the remarkable fighting skills he taught me, he was an honourable man, the greatest general Rome has ever seen,' Acacius' eyes were fixed on the great Temple of Venus between the eastern edge of the Forum Romanum and the Colosseum.

Domna looked at him with a feeling between admiration and concern.

‘He, like you, lived to serve Rome, even if he had to kill Commodus,’ she said, and even little children could catch the obvious implication in her voice.

Acacius held his ground, his eyes roaming the curves of the statue of Venus.

‘But unlike him, you are loyal to the emperors, I can be sure of that, can't I?

He turned his head towards her, but did not look at her. His eyes were now on the two spoilt emperors who were talking animatedly to each other between the columns. 'As long as Rome is prosperous for all her subjects, I will be loyal to them, my lady.'

Domna laughed loudly, 'Ah, that's why I want you in the Senate, how long will you refuse?

'I am only a soldier, politics is not my business, nor should it be. Consuls in the Senate -'

‘Those old foxes live in abundance and do nothing, the person who has done Rome the greatest service should be in the Senate.’ Domna glanced over her shoulder at her sons. 'I am concerned that Macrinus has no equal in the Senate and that Caracella dominates him, perhaps if you are in there, you will gain his trust.’

'Your Highness...' He looked at her shaking his head as no.

Domna looked at Acacius, this time with a serious expression on her face, 'For the sake of Rome you must be especially careful with Caracella, as her mother even I find it hard to get my way with him, he is not like Geta, he is a hard-headed child.’

Acacius looked at Caracella whose back was turned, of course he knew this very well, for a moment he thought that he was the real threat to Rome, not the enemy soldiers or the others.

‘Anyway, you should go to your villa and rest, you will have time to think about this alone,’ she said with a forced smile, then turned around to go to her sons.

After praying in the temple of Venus, Acacius walked out, and as he descended the steps of the temple, he felt a stinging pain where his wound had been, the poison had completely gone from his body, but it had left its trace behind.

Octavius was lost in thought as he has leaned against the side of the carriage waiting for him, quickly stood up when he noticed him.

‘Sir.’

‘I see you don't miss your home, as you're still here,' Acacius said as he descended the last step. He got into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside him. Acacius was quite tired so he lay down on the seat, the fact that he felt so comfortable with Octavius was because of their long friendship, he was his most trusted man, more than just a friend, like a brother.

'Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?’ Acacius covered his face with his arm, but he could feel the tension in him.

'Sir, the girl.’

'Oh, I see, a girl? Have you fallen in love with a girl?

'No, that's not it,' Octavius felt embarrassed as he remembers your face. 'That poor girl, It doesn't seem fair that she should be with those slaves, sir, you are an honourable man, but-'

Acacius lifted his arm from his face and looked at him, the cart swaying as it moved along the stony roads.

'The girl that medicus hid? Why do you care so much for her? Is there something I should know?’

'After all, they worked so hard together to cure you, perhaps you should have at least let her go home.’

‘Together? What do you mean?' Acacius sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

Octavius bowed his head.

'Sir, I made a mistake, it was my fault for letting them into your tent, I don't know how I could have been so careless even after the assassination, forgive me...'

Acacius raised his hand.

'Slow down, we will talk about your mistake later, you are saying that girl entered my tent and cured me? How?’

'I didn't look closely at her face and I didn't know she was a woman maybe because of her outfit but I made a terrible mistake, I should’ve known, forgive me sir.’ He bowed his head once more but it made Acacius more angry.

'You haven't answered my question, Octavius,' his voice was loud.

'Yes sir, she did her best to cure you, sir, the girl and Medicus worked hard to produce antivenom all night.’

Acacius was surprised when he realized that he hadn't dreamed that night. He was glad to learn that the owner of those eyes was a real person. But then he thought that she might be on the slave market by now, about to be sold to someone else.

‘Stop the carriage!’ He yelled.

The coachman immediately did as he was told and pulled hard on the horses' harnesses, the horses howling and stamping their hooves on the ground.

'Sir?' Octavius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Go and find the girl, I want to see her at my villa tonight, do you understand? Acacius tossed him a pouch full of coins.

Octavius smiled, ‘Yes, sir.’

please comment, reblog and like if you enjoyed so far thank youu,

All Chapters List

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fluff #marcus acacius x ofcreader

576 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 4 months ago

Text

➶ pt 1 1/2: DULEX (the gnat) a mid/prequel || emperor geta x reader

➶ 18+ smut 🥀 this takes place somewhere after reader meets caracalla and geta the first night she comes to Palatine Hill and where part one ended.

➶pt i: dulci ut rosa {sweet as a rose🥀 } pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀 pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

Licking up the hot spend that threatened to spill from your lips, you looked up at your Emperor. Your knees had gotten used to the stone floor, the sand no longer bothering you as it cut through your skin. Geta’s groans were low and guttural, every time. They never swayed, and neither did you as he pumped your mouth full every night.

His chin was tilted upward giving you a clear view of his thick neck. It resembled a tree trunk, a knob in the center where it bobbed with satisfaction, veining with cords that would tighten when he denied himself the pleasure of release. Some nights were longer than others, but they all started and ended the same way.

You told him every detail of what Caracalla had said during your evenings with him. Even the minute details of what he nibbled on during the vesperna, which was mostly fish, sucking the bones between his teeth and then using it as a tool to dig out the tender flesh between his gums.

Geta sometimes laughed at the things you told him. Other times he was angry, brooding beneath that glorious wave of honeypot curls.

Tonight, he didn’t ask for the secrets immediately on his arrival. Gets simply looked you over from head to toe, and when his eyes finished their feast he turned, cocking his head for you to follow him.

He walked with hands behind his back as he strolled an inch ahead of you, so close that if your hands and his were loose, they’d touch. He showed you around the palace, paintings with various strokes of colors making up different frescoes along the great walls. All of which made up the Roman Gods. Apollo and Diana in one showcasing the sun and the moon. Neptune, riding a massive stallion, a hurricane in his wake.

It was exquisite, the different materials used to makeup each piece was fascinating. Geta admired silently, and when he spoke in his native language, you were surprised.

Latin was becoming less and less common, but when he spoke, it rolled off his tongue in eloquence. Pure, unbroken, seductive. Flowing in a way you hadn’t heard in years. You could listen to him for hours.

Further down another corridor led to a great display of busts of Emperors before himself. He paused at one that looked fairly new, the marble uncracked and pristine. Geta, moved his fingers along the base of the heavy stone uttering quietly, “pater meus.”

You stood before the behemoth looking alter, taking in the intricate carvings of the handsome face, one that looked nearly identical to the man staring back at it. Turning towards him you managed, “Ita, Quomodo mortuus est?”

A ripple of shock wove like a needle across his face. Geta looked at you before you spoke, “mortuus est ex morbo.” It was no secret that Caracalla and Geta’s father fell ill and died unexpectedly.

Still, you’d never lost someone close to you before.

“Me paenitet,” you whispered. Even though Geta was a strange man to understand, you were still sorry for his loss. Emperor Septimius Severus was a great man, powerful and demanding to those around him, but still loved by Rome.

Geta looked at you with narrowed eyes, “death isn’t feared by warriors, only those who are weak are afraid of what lies beyond our world.”

He looked as if he would say something else, but he never did, only jerking his head as if to shrug clear his mind before turning on his heel walking quickly the way you came. This time, he walked further ahead of you, his feet slapping the marble floor as he went. A rolling sensation spurring in his nerves.

Geta had times of showing brute strength, other times he was almost kind to you, a friend perhaps. But his mind seem to change like the direction of the wind, like he pushed down anything that could possibly make him happy, make him let go.

“Tell me what he’s done on this day,” he suddenly ordered over his shoulder, his voice back to the bark it usually had, “from first light to his chamber.”

Stumbling over your words you began the lengthy, and extremely boring explanation of how Caracalla had spent his day. Before you could finish and before getting to the closed off corridor, Geta grabbed your arm pulling you down past the massive stone pillars. Into the open.

The humid air hung thick and wet on your skin. The moon was draped with clouds, a poor night for prey. With his finger pointing to the dirt, he motioned for you to kneel, and you looked at him startled. Out here, anyone could see you and report your trickery to one of the generals or worse, to Caracalla.

Raising his eyebrows in protest, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit as he assembled your hesitation, “No one will see your whore mouth as I fuck it, they are all tucked into their beds, or drunk.”

Nodding curtly, you obey, slinking to your knees, only to be stopped by his hand and brought back to standing before him. A look you couldn’t place was etched onto his features, as if he was fighting himself in his head, holding himself back.

Geta had been pissed beyond belief after visit his father’s busy. All he could do was be reminded of how his father left him here to rule with his brother. Caracalla wasn’t fit to be an Emperor. He was barely fit to be anything more than a wet dog.

Rage had filled his head as he stomped back to the hallway that was tainted with his moans and the slurp of your gags. He wanted to brutalize your mouth, maybe he’d end up knocking out one of your teeth, or bruise your throat so terribly that you couldn’t swallow anything but liquid for a weeks.

But now as you stood before him, he suddenly felt a sense of calm. Geta was always sure of what he wanted, what he desired. Since your arrival, you somehow seemed to put his maddening thoughts at ease. Just seeing your eyes and the way the suffocated moon shone in them… he couldn’t keep this act up much longer.

“Don’t… don’t move just yet,” he nearly whispered, releasing your arm and moving his fingers across your collarbone. His thumb outlined the marrow beneath the skin, and he moved to the curve of your jaw before placing the pads of his fingers on your lips.

He was right. They felt like the most expensive silk gold could buy, and for the first time in Geta’s life, he wanted to feel them on his own.

He’d fucked practically all the women of Rome, yet he never allowed them touch him in that way. But watching your lips move when you spoke the native tongue back to him made his cock jump, and his chest tighten. They moved in such a seductionous manner he felt as though he was in a trance. Your voice hypnotized him, your lips the object of his innermost desires.

Without thinking anymore of it, Geta leaned in, aligning his lips to yours, as he melted on the hot humid night beneath the Gods and anyone else to witness— he melted into his first actual kiss. As he pulled away from you, a delicate humming noise tickled his eardrum, a pestering sound, barely audible, something he’d been hearing more and more frequently…

-🔆part 3 is already being written besties

latin translation:

dulex— gnat

pater meus— my father

Ita, Quomodo mortuus est?— yes, how did he die?

mortuus est ex morbo— he died from an illness

me paentit— i’m sorry

☻ taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @fallout-girl219 @hellfireadmin @all-will-be-well-love @anythinggoesemily

@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson

#emperor geta smut #joseph quinn #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta fanfic

393 notes · View notes

grecoromanyaoi · 2 months ago

Note

top 10 hottest roman emperors go!

i actually think most of them r kinda fugly but obv the hottest ones r caracalla, hadrian, marcus aurelius, septimius severus, n i actually think lucius verus is soooo overlooked in the hottest emperors competition he was kind of a hottie

#asks #anon

107 notes · View notes

blueiscoool · 5 months ago

Text

Roman-Era Inscription Found at Building Demolition Site in Bulgaria

A fragment of a marble slab with an inscription, believed to date from the time of Roman Emperor Septimius Severus, has been found at the site of a demolished house in Bulgaria’s city of Plovdiv.

Septimius Severus was Roman Emperor from 193 to 211 CE.

The find was made at the site of a house at 17 Metropolitan Panaret Street that had been demolished. The developer contacted the Regional Archaeological Museum in Plovdiv.

The fragment measures 70 x 40cm and was found at a depth of about 1.6 metres.

Archaeologist Dessislava Davidova told Bulgarian National Radio that over the centuries, the marble had been used as part of building material.

BNR reported that Dr Nikolai Sharankov, a specialist in classical languages and epigraphy, was consulted and said that the fragment was most likely part of an inscription on the pedestal of a statue dating from the time of Emperor Septimius Severus.

The inscription mentions the name of the distinguished citizen Veranius, tribune and high priest of the imperial cult in Philippopolis, an ancient name of Plovdiv in antiquity.

Sharankov said that Veranius most likely belonged to the local Thracian aristocracy, obtained Roman citizenship and was included in the Roman equestrian class and thus began his career in the Roman army and he reached the position of military tribune.

From the inscription it is understood that Veranius organised gladiator fights.

Sharankov said that the dating was done according to the specific font of the inscription, characteristic of the time of Emperor Septimius Severus.

#Roman-Era Inscription Found at Building Demolition Site in Bulgaria #Plovdiv Bulgaria #Roman Emperor Septimius Severus #marble #marble fragment #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art

23 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 month ago

Text

Et Auream - The Prologue

“The Boy”

A/N: well…🤭 it’s here! I decided to bite the bullet and post the prologue sooner because I am an impulsive Aries after all! This story has taken over my mind body and soul 🫠 just ask @sinsofsummers @penvisions @beardedjoel @corazondebeskar @punkshort & @kenobiwanx (just to name a few moots who have listened to me yap and yap and yap 🥹) it’s an understatement when I say just how I excited I am for this story. I currently have 17 chapters written, and we are only at the halfway point! There is so much more to come 😉

Summary: Marcus Acacius, from a young age was taught to be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate. His mother, Lucia, has kept her son’s true identity hidden from his callous father, Varus. On the eve of Marcus’s 10th birthday, an accident occurs, and when the truth is revealed, Marcus learns firsthand just how cruel the world he was born into could truly be.

word count : 1.6k

Warnings: enslavement, child enslavement, child abuse, domestic abuse, canon typical violence, death of a minor character, language, minors dni! +18

Timeline : Emperor Lucius Septimius Severus - ruled from April 13th 193AD - February 4th 211AD (historical) Succeeded by: Publius Septimius (Geta) born 191AD (birthdate is fictional) & Marcus Aurelius Antonius (Caracalla) born 193AD (birthdate is fictional)

Marcus was born May 17th 193AD (Taurus) 203AD - Marcus is 10 206AD - Marcus is 13 211AD - Marcus is 18 when he meets Geta 216AD - Marcus is 23

Geta was born June 9th 191AD (fictional birthdate, not historical) (Gemini) 203AD - Geta is 12 206AD - Geta is 15 211AD - Geta is 20 when he meets Marcus 216AD - Geta is 25

Caracalla was born October 27th 193AD (fictional birthdate, not historical) (Scorpio) 203AD - Caracalla is 10 206AD - Caracalla is 13 211AD - Caracalla is 18 when he meets Marcus 216AD - Caracalla is 23

Translations : Acacius (Roman, male) - one who is free from evil (innocence) also symbolizes strength, resilience & protection Varus (Roman, male) - bent, crooked Lucia (Roman, female) - light Medicus - physician, doctor Dominus - master

Under the rule of Emperor Septimius Severus May 17th, 193 AD

When Marcus Acacius was born into the world, he did not scream like most babes did. He cooed and babbled, his long lashes opened and revealed the deepest brown eyes, rich in color like the soil that nurtures life. His mother wept as he clung to her breast. She did not shed tears of joy, but tears of sorrow and dread as she had prayed to the gods for a daughter. Not because she wouldn’t have been grateful for a son, but because his father; her Dominus, wanted a daughter, as he already possessed many sons.

She concealed him from the midwives who gave the new mother her much needed privacy after birth. It would only be a matter of time before their Dominus would return home from his travels.

“Marcus.” She whispered, lips gentle and motherly against his soft, fragile forehead. “Marcus Justus Acacius.” She sniffled. “Do you know what your name means, my son? It symbolizes innocence, strength, protection, and resilience. An honorable name for a special boy.” She cradled him close to her chest. “Your father will not love you the way that I will, but you mustn’t let it hurt you, Marcus. You must always be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate.”

Marcus’s true identity was carefully hidden beneath clothing designed for girls, and his hair grew long and lustrous. His mother, Lucia kept him close to her side as she tended to the gardens and helped prepare all the Dominus’s meals. Varus was neither kind nor cold, but he appeared to be pleased with Lucia blessing him with what he believed to be his first daughter. So much so, that he intended to marry her the following year—right before Marcus’s tenth birthday.

Tragedy struck days before the planned wedding date. On the eve of Marcus’s tenth birthday, he suffered an injury falling off of his horse, but that was not the worst of it. While the medicus was examining the injuries Marcus sustained, the truth was discovered that Varus’s daughter was in fact a boy.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Varus booming voice could be heard just outside the cracked doorway of Marcus’s bedroom.

“Sir, I understand that this news is upsetting and the most shocking, but it is true. Your daughter is a fraud, and is in fact a boy.”

“Mother.” Marcus croaked from where he laid with tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I swear, I was being careful! I lost my stirrup and—”

Lucia squeezed her son’s trembling hand firmly and reassuringly. She leaned over, brushing his temple with a soft kiss. “Shh, my son. You have done nothing wrong, Marcus. Accidents happen, and it was only a matter of time before Varus would discover the truth. I am the one who is sorry, my beautiful boy.”

“This is an outrage! My to-be wife has been lying to me all these years?! This is a disgrace, and I will seek to have her severely punished for her crimes of treachery against me!”

“No, mother! You have nothing to be sorry for! You have done everything to protect me, and I am forever grateful. You have taught me to be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate. Remember? It is my fault for being so careless.” He uttered in frustration.

“No, my son. You are but a child. The fault cannot fall on your shoulders. You must continue to be brave, gentle, just, and compassionate. No matter what life throws your way, promise me you will always remain true to your heart and the values I have instilled in you.” She cradled his cheek in her hand, brushing away stray tears and rested her forehead against his. “In this life and the next, you will always be my son.”

The door slammed open to reveal a seething Varus and Marcus never feared for his life more until the man who was half responsible for bringing him into this world looked at him as if he was nothing—not a person with feelings and emotions just like him. No, Varus looked upon his unwanted son as if he were the filth beneath his shoes and the very bane of his existence.

“Varus, please. Let me explain. I beg you to show our son mercy. He is just a boy! A bright, innocent, beautiful, kind boy!” Lucia exclaimed from his bedside, pleading for Varus to be merciful. She stood up quickly from the bedside to try and block Varus from reaching Marcus.

Varus stalked into the room, fury stricken in his irises, and when Lucia dared to place herself in his way, he struck her across the cheek hard enough that she fell against the wall, smacking her head against the stone, falling unconscious from the impact.

Marcus let out a terrified scream, his eyes wide with fear. He yelled his mothers name when Varus reached for the covers and yanked them back from his trembling body.

“She demands I show you mercy, boy.” He said between gritted teeth, malice dripping in his cold tone. He clasped his hand against Marcus’s wounded right shoulder, squeezing it tightly with no remorse.

Marcus let out a pained sound from the back of his throat, clawing desperately at his father’s hand to release him. “Father, please!” He cried, “you’re hurting me!”

“You are no son of mine.” Varus seethed and dragged the young boy from his bed and far away from where his mother laid. Marcus was never given the chance to tell her one last time just how much he loved her, or to say goodbye.

Marcus screamed for his mother till his throat was rubbed raw and he no longer had a voice. The pain in his shoulder weakened him to a state of unconsciousness, and when he woke, he found himself stuffed into an iron cage along the back of a horse-drawn carriage with ten other boys all around his age. His wrists and ankles were shackled in iron, and a collar around his neck signified his ownership to a new Dominus.

Varus had sold Marcus to a slave trader that was well known for training young boys and men to be gladiators for the barbaric games that took place in the Colosseum. Lucia would never see her son again or know of his fate.

To this day, Marcus favors his left side as the injury he sustained to his dominate shoulder never properly healed, and sometimes it still causes him pain, especially after a brutal fight.

Because he was not born with violence in his veins and rage in his heart, Marcus refused to fight even after his new Dominus would beat him, he would not grasp a sword in his palm. This made him an easy target for the other boys to take their rage and frustrations out on. Runt, they would call him. Jabbering at him like squawking crows. Coward. Pathetic. Their insults would ricochet off his body as if he was wearing invisible armor. He remained quiet and reserved till one night he had been pushed to his limits.

“Do you think you’re better than the rest of us, Acacius? Is that why you choose to not fight?” One of the boys questioned him around the dying fire.

“No. I don’t think myself to be better than anyone.” Marcus quietly said under his breath and moved to stand up from where he was sitting, but a hand on his bad shoulder forced him back down.

“Then why don’t you fight, hm? The runt won’t even defend himself!” The boy cackled and his friends joined in.

“Please stop.” Marcus said through gritted teeth.

“I bet your whore of a mother was ashamed that her son turned out to be such a coward! That’s why she sold you off, right? She couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes any longer!” He laughed. “And who could blame her?”

“Don’t you dare speak of my mother as if you knew her!” Marcus roughly brushed the hand from his shoulder and stood up in a fury.

“Your mother was a whore and I bet she died as one too!”

Marcus couldn’t remember the events that transpired moments later. All he could recall was the sound of steel being unsheathed, and seeing red behind his eyes. He was thirteen years of age when he killed for the first time. He plunged his sword so deeply into the boy's gut that it appeared through the other side, dripping in crimson.

Under the new rule of Emperor Publius Septimius (Geta) & Marcus Aurelius Antonius (Caracalla) April, 211 AD

After five years of extensive, unforgiving, and grueling training to become a gladiator, Marcus was taken before the two young emperors who had only just recently succeeded their late father, emperor Septimius Severus, to be observed in training before the next anticipated fight in the Colosseum.

“This one appears promising.” Emperor Geta, twenty years of age, sat alongside his younger brother, Caracalla in his golden throne. “I intend to meet him officially.”

“He is weak. Do you not see the way he favors one side to the other? He is unbalanced, and his opponents will pick their teeth with his bones.” Caracalla said with a jabbing snicker. “He surely won’t survive through a single fight.”

“We shall see.”

When he was approached by the emperors after the training session had wrapped up, Marcus quickly bowed in their regal, commanding presence. He brought his sword to rest against the breastplate of his armor out of respect.

“What do they call you, gladiator?” Geta inquired with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Acacius, sir.”

“And what do you desire most in this life, Acacius?”

Marcus lowered his sword, the edge of the blade dug into the coarse sand below. His emotionless gaze, directed at the eldest emperor, was contrasted by emotionally charged words of a man whose only desire in life was to be free.

“To be a free man.”

star banner made by @saradika-graphics 💗

follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifs! 🫶🏻

72 notes · View notes

fideozepam · 5 days ago

Text

The Price of Obedience, prologue

With the passing of Emperor Septimius Severus, the Roman Empire is delivered into the hands of his warring sons, Caracalla and Geta, under the vigilant eye of their mother, Julia Domna. In this maelstrom of tension in the imperial court, motions concerning the strengthening of empire power go hand in hand with what fate has ordained for Lusitania in the person of Camilla Marcellus, a young noblewoman chosen to tie her fate to one of the new rulers—an act that will change her life forever.

February 211.

The Emperor was dead.

Days that followed held breath to Rome, laden with whispers of power, treachery, and desires. Septimius Severus, once the flesh out of which an iron will held the vale empire together, gave into mortality on the cold battlefields of Britannia. To the heart of the empire returned his widow, Julia Domna, along with their sons, Caracalla and Geta, their every step heavy with legacy.

The city waited avidly for the next. There now sat on the same throne two unwilling heirs poised to struggle no further. There was tension in every marble corridor, even in every soft spoken conversation. Julia was sharp-eyed and calculating; she knew the balance was not destined to last.

It was on these stormy days that a quiet, yet monumental decision was reached: One of the brothers would take a wife to solidify the dynasty and project an image of unity.

Camilla Marcellus was far from the power struggles of Rome, in those sun-baked hills of Lusitania, and had no inkling that a decision had just been made that would sever the very foundation of her being.

#emperor geta #geta x reader #geta x you #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #eddie munson x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #gladiator ll #emperor caracalla

64 notes · View notes

integra1127grimmreaper · 4 months ago

Text

The Path of Gods: A Daughter's Sacrifice - Part I

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warning:

Summary: Eldest child and only daughter to the late emperor, half-sister to the present reigning emperors and the first female general in Roman history. Said to have been blessed by the goddess Minerva (Athena) with the wisdom of strategic warfare and brute strength never having been witnessed to be held by a mortal female in all existence. Infamously known as the Severan Harpy, adored by many, yet feared by all. You sacrifice all; body, mind, soul, and lastly, love... all in the name of loyalty to family. This your story, the prelude to your greatest battle yet to come.

Merely a magistrate under the reign of emperor Marcus Aurelius and already having been married for three years; Lucius Septimius Severus and his wife yearned with their whole being for a child and prayed for anyone of the gods to grant their hearts desire at any cost. Through divine power, their prayers had been answered by the Goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft, the goddess Minerva, yet it would come at costly leniency toward the child's heartfelt desires. That night they were both visited by the goddess within the dream-realm.

"I beseech any of the gods to answer my prayers and bless me with a child!" the woman tearfully pleads out into the open abyss surrounding her.

"Wipe away your tears child, your prayers have been answered..." a firm feminine voice utters out from above her.

Tearful gaze raising upward, the woman gasps out in realization that she was now in the presence of the goddess Minerva, "my Goddess!", her head dips back down in respect.

"Lift your head up, child", the goddess commands.

"You honor me, my Goddess" the woman raises her head.

"You have suffered greatly in your quest for a child..." the goddess stares at her sympathetically.

"My Goddess, I-"

"Hush now, child" the goddess cuts her off. "It is done. You shall have the child which you yearn for."

"Praise be to you, my Goddess!" the woman cries out in joy, dropping back down to bow.

"It will come at a price though" the goddess utters then.

"Anything!" the woman eagerly agrees, "anything you ask for, my goddess!"

"This child shall not be like any other mortal" the goddess explains, "the child shall be gifted in many ways, therefore its potential shall not be hindered, no matter the circumstance."

"As you command, my goddess" the woman bows in agreement.

"What is this place?!" Septimius scans the open abyss in confusion.

"Cease your hysteria, mortal!" the goddess Minerva appears in front of him.

"My Goddess!" Septimius abruptly drops to his knees.

"Arise so I may directly address you, mortal", the goddess commands and he does as told. "I have granted the prayers of yours. There shall be a child born unto you and your wife."

"I thank you, my Goddess!" Septimius drops into a bow again.

"You may not be so grateful, as it will come at a price", the goddess remarks.

"Speak it and it shall be done, my Goddess..." Septimius instantly agrees as she continues explaining.

"The child shall be extraordinary, far more than any mortal ever, a master strategist and exceptional warrior."

"That is more than I could ever ask for, thank you Goddess..." Septimius ecstatically responds.

"You shall swear an oath; that the child's potential shall be fulfilled, that nothing nor no one shall hinder it."

"As you command, my Goddess", Septimius submits, "I swear upon my life."

"Your life is meaningless to me" the goddess remarks. "Should you break your oath; your entire bloodline shall be abolished though."

"I swear to uphold the oath, regardless of all circumstances" Septimius responds.

"Excellent" the goddess nods, a glint of satisfaction passing her eyes. "Now return to the waking-realm. Your child awaits you..."

"She should be preparing for marriage, not warfare", your mother mutters in disapproval.

"You know as well as I, that is not a matter of importance" your father responds as he proudly observed your training in the courtyard.

Your mother scoffs in response, "how is she to find a husband if she is marred with battle scars?!"

Turning around, your father shoots her a warning glare. "We made an oath. Should we not uphold it; then our entire bloodline shall be eradicated!"

Your mother opens her mouth to speak but it cuts her short. "Enough! Valeria shall do as she pleases. We are merely here to nurture and guide her through the path that she chooses."

"As you wish" your mother mutters under her breath, tilting her chin upward in dissatisfaction. "I, however, refuse to stand here and witness my only daughter becoming scarred and disfigured!"

"You underestimate my girl, woman!" your father scoff's. "She has already outwitted and conquered all her mentors and yet there is still room for improvement."

"What do mean?"

"The emperor has heard of our daughter's abilities and has sent for a military commander to assess her."

Your mother's eyes widen in shocked, "who?"

"The newly appointed, General Acacius."

"Him?!" your mother screech's, "he is a harsh man and even more merciless warrior."

"Which makes him perfect!" your father excitedly exclaims. "Acacius is also the only one closer in age to her."

"I would hardly call a man in his thirties being close in age to a sixteen-year-old girl!"

"He will have more patience with her than the elder generals" your father attempts to sooth her fears. "They might even fall in love... you do wish for her to find a husband after all."

"The situation suddenly no longer seems as horrible..." you mother remarks, deep in thought.

"Precisely!" your father grins in response, "he would be a great advantage to our family."

"Acacius might be the only man capable of taming our Valeria..." your mother agrees.

"Yes, that may all be well and good, but we cannot force it" your father reminds her, "it must be Valeria's own decision."

"Very well" your mother nods in agreement, "yet, I shall nonetheless pray to the gods for it."

"As you should..." your father matter-of-factly state, turning back toward watching you train.

"So, this the girl I am here for...?" General Acacius stood scrutinizing your fight against your latest mentor.

"That is my daughter, Valeria, yes" your father comments proudly. "She is everything you would desire for a skilled warrior."

"Except for the fact that she is a girl", Acacius remarks.

"Skill is skill, regardless of one's sex" your father scoffs, "she is a formidable force when it comes to fighting."

"I would not boast so loudly if I were you", Acacius warns your father, "the emperor might come with the idea to thrust her into the gladiator fights."

"I have already steered him away from those thoughts" your father assures him. "I thank you for your concerns though."

"Then he has considered it?" Acacius' eyes widen in shock and your father snorts in amusement.

"A young, beautiful woman, with the skill and power she possesses...? Of course, he would. It would be of great entertainment to watch her rip apart the gladiators one after the other."

For a split second, Acacius felt his cock twitch at the vision described to him. Awkwardly clearing his throat, nodding toward the courtyard then. "Let us begin."

"Come now Caius, that cannot be all you have to offer..." you playfully taunt your mentor, who was breathing harshly whilst you had barely broken a sweat.

"That mouth of yours will wind you up in trouble one day, little one" he warns, a smirk spreading across his face when noticing the general and your father approaching from behind you.

You scoff in amusement at his word, "you are only bitter because you could not outbest me!"

Caius' smirk spreads to a full-blown grin as he taps a finger against his temple. "In time, little one..."

You were about to retort, when Caius' suddenly bows and then silently proceeds to walk off.

"Caius where are you going?!", you frown at his retreating form, taking a step forward. "Caius?! Wher-" you were cut off by a harsh tug of your braid. A large hand winds the braid tighter around it, tugging you backward against a hard chest.

"Your number one weakness when in the battlefield...", a harsh male voice snarls into your ear.

Basic instinct instantly kicking; you throw your head backward full force into his face, driving your elbow into his gut thereafter as you rip loose from his grip.

"Valeria!!!", your father bellows out as you whirl around to face them with your sword held up. You silently stared as he rushes toward the whizzing man, doubled over, "General Acacius?!"

The man pushes your father aside as he stood up and silently glared at you. With a mocking arched brow and a head tilt; you reach back for the tail of your braid, pulling it taut as you lift the sword up to cut it off. "Issue solved", you remark, tossing the braid at his feet.

"My apologies, General", your father splutters out, "my daughter has a tendency to act before thinking."

"I thought about my action before executing them", you comment, refusing to back down.

"Valeria!" your father scolds you, turning toward Acacius to apologize yet again but the general pays him no attention. His lips twitching in silent amusement at your antics.

"Feisty... I like it."

Pt II

#general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #pedro pascal

103 notes · View notes

thatsthewrongwallcraig · 4 days ago

Text

Chamaemelum Nobile

Summary: The admiration of the whole Holy Roman Empire be damned if Caracalla couldn’t gain his brother's attention he so desperately craved.

Pairing: Caracalla x Geta

Word Count: ~ 2.4k

Content Warnings: The Finest Smut In The Roman Empire 18!+, Incest :), Syphilis :), Jealousy, Emotional Constipation, Angst…Lots Of It!, Drinking, Oral, Petplay-ish

A/N: If antis try and harass me into stopping I actually just double down on the nasty 🤝��

Tagging: @blueberrypancakesworld @queer-crusader @crimsonkingart @somepallings

I'm unclean, a libertine

And every time you vent your spleen

I seem to lose the power of speech

You′re slipping slowly from my reach

You grow me like an evergreen

You′ve never seen the lonely me at all

- Without You, I’m Nothing By Placebo

Saturnalia - the final lavish and pompous feast before the cold winds of a swiftly approaching winter would carry a sense of quiet with them. The entire city was bursting at its very seams with the hedonistic ecstasy of the holy Roman trinity: gambling, drinking and fucking. All of it highly endorsed by the twin emperors Publius Septimius Geta and Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus, more commonly known as Caracalla.

The latter one, however, wasn't really in much of a festive spirit…

“What is it with the long face, brother?”, Geta came walking up to Caracalla, the rhythm of his steps a joyful sway; hips swinging in somewhat inebriated glee, “Don't you enjoy the feast?”

Right as he stopped in his tracks, elbows leaning against the solid stone railing of the balcony, Caracalla turned his pale face to his brother, the expression washing over his features clearly none of pleasure and happiness.

“You don't even like me anymore.” The verbal outburst was sudden and harsh, unbridled anger oozing from between reddish flushed lips underneath smeared and smudged white paint.

“Now why would you say that?” Geta raised his heavy golden chalice to free it from the last little puddle of wine whilst he exchanged glances with Caracalla.

“You talk to them all the time, never me.”, The juvenile accusations rolled over Caracalla's tongue rapidly, “You don't come to me anymore, you don't play with me anymore, you don't even celebrate with me. It's all them, them them.”

Them meaning everybody but him, the senators, the concubines - hells, the goddamn dogs even.

“I've been busy.”, Geta's reply was a calculated attempt at calming his brother, this wasn't the first childish tantrum and it surely wouldn't be the last, “You know that as well as I do, brother.”

Geta splayed his palm on his brother's toga-clad shoulder, trying to soothe the bubbling anger whilst not directly touching him; as of late he just couldn't get himself to do it anymore, the hammering disgust too heavy in his guts and thoughts plagued by what he had seen in the baths.

However, he was well aware that it had blatantly slipped how he'd been avoiding his brother. Every day, Geta fought with the guilt of slowly stepping away from his brother, yet, he couldn’t help or stop himself from doing so.

“Do you not love me anymore?” I do, I promise I do but you disgust me - the words prodded at the very tip of Geta's tongue but remained unspoken, in no world could he do that to his dearly beloved.

“Don't say such things. Don't even dare think them.” Everything within pulled at him to cave and welcome Caracalla into a much overdue embrace but he couldn’t do it, he wasn't drunk enough for his mind to be able to banish the memories of ulcers and flushed rashes all across his brother's body.

He wished to be able to somehow help him but there was no help for this demonic disease slowly eating away at the only person he truly cared for and for what it mattered, in this moment, the thrashing guilt constricting Geta's chest swallowed him whole, tore him down into the abyss of failing his brother like that. He had to do something - anything about it.

“Can you do me a favour?”, Caracalla's attention was on Geta immediately, “Find me when it's quiet, will you?”

A feeble gleam of curious excitement flickered behind Caracalla's eyes as he agreed with a swift nod.

Geta exhaled, crisis averted long enough for him to numb himself down with obscene amounts of alcohol to be ready to do what needed to be done to appease his brother.

The emperor slumped down onto his throne in a movement devoid of any decorum, the weight of exhaustion and alcohol pulling at him simultaneously. It wouldn’t be long until the sun would start to rise again but for now the celebrations had slowed down as the entire city eventually capitulated to a heavily intoxicated stupor.

Geta's moment of shallow peace wasn't granted long - his brother followed suit almost as if he could sniff him out just about anywhere in the palace.

A little less influenced Caracalla slipped past the doorway, ever the little weasel to sneak amongst the shadows, unseen when he wanted to.

“Brother!” He quipped, the excitement in his voice echoing from dimly illuminated stone walls right at Geta who cradled his heavy head in the curve of his palm.

“Quiet!” Geta shushed, not in true admonishment but to tease, the wine easily loosening his tongue.

His twin broke into a giggle, eyes bloodshot and glazed over with a watery sheen and Geta couldn’t quite tell if his brother had been crying or if it was the wine working his face like that whilst he watched Caracalla stop right before the few flat steps leading to the twin thrones overlooking the Empire.

A dull pang of pain shot through Geta's chest seeing how his brother practically beamed and vibrated right in front of him. However, the emotion got swallowed deliciously quick by the numbness graced upon him by the crude amounts of tasty red flowing through his bloodstream.

“Can I come and play?” Caracalla asked, voice lowered but heavy with need regardless.

“You may.” The two words hadn't even left Geta's lips properly as his brother dropped to his knees with a devilish grin adorning his whitened features, ready to crawl up the steps on all fours.

The picture playing out before him on the stairs tugged at Geta's lips just as well, a smirk growing with each step Caracalla climbed until he'd nearly reached him, until - Geta raised his foot, the thin sole of his sandals firmly against his brother's shoulder to halt his movements.

“You jealous thing.” It slipped right past his lips, thick like molasses and with nothing but adoration in his voice.

If Geta was honest with himself he had to admit that he loved his brother being riddled with burning jealousy at the slightest turn of heads that wasn’t directed towards him. He thrived on it unlike anything else because he never, not one single day, had to doubt his brother's undying love and loyalty.

They needed each other the way fire needs oxygen to burn and without just withered away, pathetically flickering in a dance of death until the flame died out.

“Rabid little mutt.” The snide comment was angled with perfect precision and cut right through the cowering Caracalla, imminently triggered arousal fighting against infested flesh as he throbbed underneath his red and gold embroidered toga.

“Just for you.” Caracalla wrapped his fingers around Geta's ankle, shifting his feet from collarbone over his shoulder, the worn leather of his nearly knee-high sandals gliding along right next to his face as he set forth, working himself up the stairs until he kneeled between Geta’s legs, paint-smeared cheek pressed against the inside of his thigh; the faint scents of gentle chamomile and fiery cinnamon wafting off his brother’s robe.

As of late, this little play had turned a bit one-sided but Caracalla didn't mind for as long as he could still touch and feel Geta beneath his fingers and against his lips. He could take care of himself later and for now, he was happy enough to be allowed to paw and nip at his brother, coaxing little noises out of him as he grazed his teeth along the receptive skin of his thigh, teasing but never biting. His mouth inching ever further, bouts of accumulated body heat warm against his face as soft fabric bunched against his forehead and tousled his ginger hair.

He knew Geta wouldn’t try to stand up and get away just now, however, Caracalla still wrapped his entire arm around his twin’s upper thigh, smooth skin over taught and thick muscle against his chest as he pulled Geta closer, dragging him to slip deeper into the curve of the throne until Caracalla’s nose dipped right into tufts of coppery, curly pubes. Above, Geta groaned out, his voice coarse with the pleasure he finally allowed to break free whilst there was no one else around, no prying eyes and no malevolent mouths to feed the ever-hungry mills of gossip. Not that both of them genuinely cared; in doubt, heads would roll until the rumours on the streets had died down to hushed whispers behind shielding palms again.

Geta let his head loll back, the golden sickle of intricately welded laurel leaves gliding off the crown of his head and reaching the marble floor with a metallic clink, yet, neither of them bothered; Geta already too far gone in the throes of intimacy he’d denied himself for far too long whilst his brother wouldn’t dare to inch away just the slightest, lips grazing over unharmed skin as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

He was getting dizzier with every next nip and kiss he pressed to his brother's pale complexion, his lips following the dip of his groin until the full pulsing girth of Geta’s cock leaned against the side of his face, the soft and swollen tip dripping precum onto Caracalla’s cheek.

Both of them enjoyed an entire harem full of concubines and prostitutes, men and women, alike, multiple times a day if either demanded so and yet no amount of offered body parts could replace the wretched bond the twins shared with one another; once nourished in the same womb they now stilled their never ceasing hunger on each other.

“Please.”, Geta fought not to flinch and quiver as Caracalla ran his tongue along the undersides of his aching cock, the prodding tip of it teasing along the prominently protruding vein until his mouth just hovered above, not yet sinking down, thick ropes of pinkish, wine-tinted saliva slopping onto it, “Please, brother!”

Geta felt his eyes awash with a thin veil of tears, the wetness pooling at his lower lashline and pricking at his tear ducts harshly. He fought to keep it in, to swallow his shallow pride and simply not care, to much rather grab his brother by the scruff of his delicate neck and shove his hot mouth down onto his aching cock.

Geta the emperor - Geta the coward, not even able to get over himself, inebriated to a point like Bacchus would approve of. Too cowardly and too afraid to contract whatever had befallen his brother. Too spineless to go down the same dark path and follow Caracalla the way he'd sworn to him countless times.

The choked back breath hitched in the back of his throat before it burst free from his mouth as Caracalla acknowledged his brother’s quiet begging and lowered his head agonizingly slow, letting Geta’s heavy cock slide past his open lips and over his tongue until it nearly made him gag, the sensation of sensitive muscles contracting sent a wash of goosebumps all across Geta’s lower abdomen. It eventually coaxed him enough for his hand to shoot down and let his fingers take a fistful of Caracalla’s vibrant hair, pulling and shoving at his face with force but not violent enough to tear at his scalp or hurt him.

Caracalla let out a slightly gargled groan of pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as his brother took the lead, guiding his head up and down his length in swift movements. He liked being of use. Even more so as of late as the people around him had started staying away; servants, the senate but most of all his brother and even though Caracalla was a man of almost child-like emotional outbursts at times - he sure wasn’t stupid. He knew from the way they looked at him, stared him down whenever he entered the room, that he had become nothing more to them than the ulcers spreading across his body. Whatever malady this was that had beset him, they were more afraid of it than his notoriously unsteady hand on the reigns of this empire and it compromised him, to say the least. Reduced him enough for him to whine and pout for his brother's attention, something that once used to come flowing in rivers all by itself.

Caracalla dug his nails into the supple flesh of Geta’s thigh, hard enough to leave red dents, as his twin increased the pace whilst rhythmically rutting his lap against hollowed cheeks; lewd and wet squelching sounds filling the night air as Geta fucked his face with an increasing sense of reckless abandon. He felt him getting closer with each heavy thrust, Geta’s cock twitching against the back of his throat until he shoved Caracalla’s head further down until his chin pressed against spasming balls. He inhaled sharply through flaring nostrils as thick, white ribbons of cum pooled down his throat. Caracalla had no other choice than to swallow all of it, feeling the sticky warmth gushing into his stomach before his brother freed him from the tight clasp and he pulled back.

With a head full of dishevelled hair, Caracalla looked up, chest heaving and falling in deep breaths, meeting his brother's gaze that oozed a sense of uneasy bewilderment. Something had shifted between the two men, something of great substance, and Caracalla didn’t dare to even utter the question, for he knew he couldn’t handle the answer.

#carageta #caracalla x geta #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

37 notes · View notes

kabuki-writes · 8 days ago

Text

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #general acacius #geta x reader #caracalla x reader #joseph quinn #pedro pascal #fred hechinger #gladiator ii imagine #kabuki writes

582 notes · View notes