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missadangel · 2 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

yeeey my new fanfic, welcome all <3 couldn't wait till second trailer lool

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(Marcus Acacius x Reader)

Summary: You are a secret medicus (a psychian), who embarks on a dangerous path to heal General Marcus Acacius, wounded during the war, but there is a secret, you think you're an orphan, but you're wrong. You're actually, the daughter of the previous emperor. Everyone thinks your'e dead long ago. But even you don't know anything about this and everything you knew is about to change.

Rating: Mature, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 67,354 for now :)

Warnings: falling in love, loss of virginity, mention about virginity, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury

Notes: This is my second fanfiction, my english better now hope you all like my story, my chapters will be looong, so have fun :)

Chapter 1: 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. Scholars 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.’

comment and like if you liked 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

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trashmouth-richie · 4 months ago

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➶ 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

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grecoromanyaoi · 29 days ago

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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

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integra1127grimmreaper · 4 months ago

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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

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blueiscoool · 10 months ago

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Ancient Monumental Marble Map of Rome on Display After 100 Years

A marble map of ancient Rome, that hasn't been put on public view for almost 100 years, is getting its very own museum within sight of the Colosseum.

The Museum of the Forma Urbis, enclosed within a new archaeological park on one of Rome's famous seven hills opens on Friday -- the latest offering from a city that is eager to broaden its attraction for growing hordes of tourists, according to Reuters.

"This is a beautiful day. We are opening an archaeological park in an extraordinary part of the city and a new museum showcasing a masterpiece which has not been visible for about a century," said Rome Mayor Roberto Gualtieri.

"We want a city where the museums and the streets are linked, and where people, while walking around, can fully appreciate and enjoy the beauty, but also better understand how our city has been transformed."

The Forma Urbis was a monumental, highly detailed marble map of ancient Rome carved during the reign of the Emperor Septimius Severus between 203 and 211 AD, engraved onto 150 separate slabs and measuring 18 by 13 metres (60 by 43 feet).

It was displayed on a wall in the ancient city, but over the centuries it gradually disintegrated, with locals using some slabs for new buildings.

During excavations in 1562, fragments were recovered and scholars estimate around 10% of the whole has survived, including sections showing the Colosseum and Circus Maximus, as well as floor plans of baths, temples and private houses.

The huge carving has proved a valuable resource for understanding the layout of ancient Rome, but all the remaining pieces have not been shown together since 1924.

In its new, innovative setting, the fragments have been laid out on a reproduction of a famous map of Rome created in the 18th century by the surveyor Giovanni Battista Nolli, who is credited with making the first accurate street plan of Rome.

The marble chunks lie on top of the Nolli map, showing their relation to the developing Renaissance city.

Outside the museum, in the open-air park on the side of the Caelian Hill, archaeologists have out laid out walkways lined with ancient Roman grave markers and marble columns found in excavations around the city in recent decades.

"The Caelian Hill, one of the seven hills of ancient Rome, has remained in the shadows, unknown and inaccessible for a very long time. Today, we are finally giving it back to the city," said Claudio Parisi Presicce, who oversees Rome's cultural heritage.

"The hill has a special importance because it is what unites the monumental area of the Imperial Forums, the Roman forum, the Colosseum and the area of the Appia Antica," he said.

The 5-million-euro ($5.5 million) project is part of a broader refurbishment of Rome, which has seen a tourism boom since the end of the COVID-19 pandemic and is expected to be submerged by visitors in the 2025 Roman Catholic Holy Year.

#Ancient Monumental Marble Map of Rome on Display After 100 Years #The Museum of the Forma Urbis #The Forma Urbis #Emperor Septimius Severus #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient rome #roman history #roman empire #roman emperor #roman art

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tightjeansjavi · 6 days ago

Text

Et Auream - Act 1 : The Gladiator

A/N: well, here we are! :3 I started writing this chapter back in July, right after the trailer for gladiator ii dropped, and I have since then gutted it completely and rewrote it start to finish 😆 I have to give a HUGE thank you to @sinsofsummers for being one of my many cheerleaders and for betaing. I love you so much pookie 🫶🏻

word count: 3.2k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since the passing of the late emperor Septimius Severus, who was succeeded by his sons, Geta and Caracalla. General Octavius and his forces continue their campaign against the Caledonians, and Acacius, one of the most fierce gladiators that Rome has ever witnessed, feels nothing but bitter resentment towards the emperors.

Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc

Warnings: canon typical violence, brutality, enslavement, domestic abuse, power imbalance, violent punishment, language, alcohol consumption, +18 minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything.

series masterlist | playlist

Translations: Dominus - Master voluit vivere - he wanted to live Praetorian - bodyguard of a Roman emperor

THE COLOSSEUM - five years after the death of Emperor Septimius Severus April, 216 AD

The thunderous chants from the crowd echoed deafeningly in his eardrums. Steel bars that imprisoned gladiators from the spectators in the Colosseum shook wildly from the crescendo of voices shouting in unison; KILL! KILL! KILL!

A hush fell over the crowd at the emperor’s silent command of a raised hand and thumb leveled to the side.

A man’s life hung in the balance between two young emperors. Caracalla was the younger counterpart by two years to his brother, Geta, and mercy would be granted only if they felt it was earned. But in reality, it depended solely on their moods.

The games were nothing short of barbaric, and the people of Rome loved the thrill of a brutal fight. The suspense, the bloodshed and sacrifice. This was entertainment for the poor and rich, young and old would flock to the Colosseum to watch men, women, and beast fight to the brutal death.

Emperor Geta pointed his thumb downwards, signaling another life ending, and the crowd erupted in deafening applause.

Acacius chanted a silent prayer under his breath to grant the soul whose life had just been snuffed out, safe passage to the afterlife. He flipped his sword in his hand and awaited the gates to open once more.

Geta reclined back on his golden throne with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

“I expected there to be more blood,” Caracalla muttered alongside him, a pout formed on his thin lips. “He should have been gutted, his innards should have fallen to the ground!” he groaned in disappointment.

“You and your obsession with gore,” Geta responded with a roll of his eyes at his brother’s complaining. He reached for his chalice and brought the rim to his lips, but before he could take a sip, he was stopped by one of his advisors looming at the entrance of the viewing platform.

Cassius, one of Geta’s trusted advisors and a member of the senate, bowed quickly and reached into his tunic and pulled out a sealed scroll; a letter from the general.

“Caesar,” his nasally tone grated Geta’s ears.

“Cassius,” he responded flatly.

“This just arrived. A letter from general Octavius,” Cassius informed him.

Geta carefully tore the ruby colored wax seal off and began to read the written scripture. He had only reached the first sentence when he noticed that Cassius’s presence was still lingering. He waved him off, his eyes stayed glued to the parchment. “You are dismissed.”

Cassius bowed once more and turned on his heel quickly, leaving Geta to read in peace.

“What news does our general bring us today?” Caracalla asked.

Caesar,

Our latest battle was successful, but I have lost a few hundred men, and I myself have been injured, but the medicus assured me that it is not grave. The Caledonians have retreated, but I fear this is only temporary. My age begins to show and my bones grow tired and weak. My men will not continue to follow me if they feel that I am unfit to lead them. Discuss with Caracalla in regard to finding a man worthy enough to succeed my position as general when my inevitable death arrives.

I wish you and your brother fair health and prosperity,

General Octavius

“Our recent battle against the Caledonians was successful, but we have lost a few hundred men. The general was wounded, but not gravely,” Geta recited with a sigh.

Caracalla scoffed and shook his head. “We should abandon the campaign entirely like I had suggested after Father died. We are wasting precious resources and able bodied men, and for what?”

“Abandoning the campaign would disappoint our late father greatly. We promised him that we would not cease our attack until the Caledonians are defeated, brother,” Geta said in a low tone.

“He is dead, Geta. What does a dead man care about a campaign that was a disaster from the start? And now with the general wounded, our soldiers could turn on us at any moment! They will become unpredictable and restless without a leader,” Caracalla seethed.

“General Octavius suggested that you and I find someone worthy to succeed him when he inevitably passes either from injury or old age. I have a man in mind for the position, but you will detest it I am certain.”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of turning that gladiator scum into a general, brother. If anyone should succeed Octavius, it should be a worthy soldier in his ranks. Acacius is unworthy and unfit for the position,” Caracalla waved his wrist animatedly in disgust. Golden bangles that adorned his arms made a short, sharp, ringing sound from the sudden movement.

“And yet you love to watch him fight. He is one of our strongest and resilient gladiators. He is just as worthy as any soldier. The people love him, Caracalla. I intend to turn him into one of the greatest generals Rome has ever seen,” Geta countered swiftly.

“Of course I love to watch him fight!” Caracalla snapped. “He is one of the best that we have, but he will never be a general as long as I am still breathing.”

Before Geta had the chance to respond with something snarky, his attention was drawn to the start of the next fight.

The sun blinded Acacius’s vision as he stepped out into the arena when the gates were opened. The sun was scorching, and sweat already began to drip down the plane of his brow. His opponent was larger, broader than he was, but Acacius was swift, and able to recover in half the time. The crowd roared his name, stamped their feet and cheered at his entrance. His face was stoic, void of emotion to the wild chanting of his name.

His opponent, however, basked in their cheers like a preening peacock. A thirst for blood is what many of Acacius’s opponents experienced, but he was simply doing what he must do to survive another day. They thought that volunteering to be a gladiator would bring them riches and fame beyond their wildest dreams, until they would meet the cold kiss of his steel in their gut. Maybe he would feel the same swelling pride as they did if he had been given the option to volunteer.

The two gladiators walked to the middle of the arena and faced the viewing platform where the emperor’s and their subjects were seated. Their swords were brought to rest against the breastplate of their armor and they recited the words, “Hail Caesar, those who are about to die salute you!”

In another viewing box below the emperor’s, she was feeling the same level of disgust as Acacius was towards the brutality of the games. And like him, she was forced to participate by her Dominus, Cassius, who was enthralled by the games and even more-so when he knew that the sight of blood and violence nauseated her.

Her name was Aurelia; the golden one, although her life wasn’t very golden at all. She was Senator Cassius’s prized possession, his property till the day that she would inevitably die.

“If you keep your head hidden between your thighs any longer, you’ll miss the entire fight, Aurelia,” Cassius said condescendingly alongside her. His chalice of wine filled to the brim, and nearly spilled down the front of his tunic.

Aurelia bit down on the soft flesh of her inner cheek at his words. She gnawed on it until she tasted copper on her tongue. That is the whole point. Is what she wanted to say, but she remained silent in her distress.

Cassius rolled his eyes, not appreciating the way that she ignored him and he placed his hand around the back of her neck, his fingers slipped into the small space between the iron collar that was fit snug around her neck and tugged harshly, enough for her to wince from the uncomfortable tightness.

“I said,” he snarled against the shell of her ear, “you’ll miss the entire fight, my pet. It will please me if you watch. Do as your Dominus commands,” he released her neck from his unforgiving grip, finally. No one in close proximity to them batted an eye at the mistreatment she experienced.

Aurelia forced herself to watch the brutal fight. The sounds of steel clashing rang in her ears and from the viewing box, she could make out the details on one of the gladiator’s faces. His dark hair was cropped short and curled around the top of his ears. His skin, sun-kissed in gold, was littered with old and new scars traveling up the expanse of his arms.

She could not help but wonder how old he must have been when a sword was thrust into his hands and he was forced to kill another man and the emotional turmoil he must have felt after the adrenaline would inevitably wear off. She found herself gasping with the crowd when his opponent's blade grazed Acacius’s bicep, slicing the skin there just enough that beads of crimson wept through the laceration. Acacius gritted his teeth together, letting out a growl that was nothing short of animalistic and charged forward, his eyes set ablaze with determination.

Caracalla was seen smirking over the rim of his chalice. He was foolish to believe that a minor cut on Acacius’s arm was enough to deter him, but unlike his brother, Geta was locked into the fight. He leaned forward in his seat, his demeanor stiff and rigid.

The shield belonging to Acacius’s opponent was suddenly knocked from his grip, shattering from the sheer force of Acacius’s sword colliding with it. His opponent stumbled back, and dug his heels into the sand to keep himself upright, but without a shield to defend himself, he would have to rely on his strength alone.

Acacius flipped the hilt of his sword in his calloused palm and charged forward again with vigor. The sting from the cut along his bicep, and the dull ache in his shoulder drove him forward. He would not die today, this was certain.

Their swords met again and again until his opponent began to tire and Acacius went in for the kill, and with one swift kick to the abdomen, his opponent fell to the sand with a dull thud.

The crowd cheered, their fists raised towards the heavens as they chanted, “KILL! KILL! KILL!”

Geta rose from his seat and raised his hand above his head, and the crowd fell into a hushed silence at the sight of the emperor's thumb turning to the side.

Acacius could hear the blood that pounded in his ears as he stood towered over his fallen opponent. His brows were pinched together, his armored chest rose and fell rapidly from the energy he exerted.

His opponent awaited his fate, exhaustion written across his bloodstained face.

Acacius saw a boy when he looked into his opponent’s eyes. A frightened boy who isn’t yet ready to die, and he sees himself all those years ago. When the crowd erupted into cheers once more, Acacius did not need to see the Emperor’s hand to know what was being demanded of him. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword and he raised it above his head as if he were to bring it down upon his opponent for that final, devastating, fatal blow, but he stopped midway, and threw his sword to the side in defiance.

Aurelia’s eyes widened in shock. Out of every fight that she was forced to attend, never did she witness a gladiator defy an emperor’s demand so boldly. His defiance sent her pounding heart ablaze with a new sense of hope that she had not felt in ages. Acacius the merciful, they chanted.

“Kill him!” Caracalla cried out wildly in protest, his body lurched up from his throne. His shrill tone was like that of a child throwing a tantrum. The eldest emperor did not react, but Acacius could feel Geta’s harsh, disappointed glare burning holes into the back of his skull when he bent down and offered his hand to his fallen opponent who stared up at him in bewilderment.

“Take my hand,” Acacius whispered through the deafening cheers.

Carcalla leaned over to his brother and whispered, “what was that you said earlier about Acacius being worthy to succeed general Octavius?”

Geta could hear the grin appearing through his tone, but the eldest emperor gave no indication that he was unnerved by his brothers jabbing words, or Acacius’s defiance, except for the slight flare of his nostrils, and his left eye twitching, rimmed in darkened makeup.

The defeated opponent reached up with a grunt and clasped his hand around Acacius’s firmly. He lifted him from the ground with ease. When he looked up at the emperor’s viewing box, Geta was no longer standing there and looking down at him and a sinking feeling of dread for what was to come washed over him.

Aurelia watched the way he turned on his heel, his teeth gritted together in pain when his bad shoulder began to flare up and bother him. He subtly leaned his weight to his left side for some reprieve, though temporary. He did not reach down for his sword and walked past it in the direction of the open gates, disappearing behind them a moment later.

She paid no mind to Cassius muttering beside her about how blatant defiance should be punished and ‘rogues’ like Acacius should be terminated as quickly as possible.

Acacius was not even granted the luxury to even attempt to remove his armor when he heard the approach of many heavy footsteps through the corridor. He felt the sharp tip of a spear pierce the side of his neck, and before he had the chance to fight back, a hand harshly clasped down on his bad shoulder and the sudden, sharp pain that felt like a thousand knives were stabbing him at once, sent him falling to his knees.

Geta promenaded through his appointed guards and crouched down to Acacius’s level. His expression was placid, lacking emotion. Internally, he was furious, but he did a good enough job to hide it.

“Look at me, Acacius,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm.

Acacius refused and he let out a sharp cry of agony when the Praetorian guard dug his fingers deeper into his shoulder and he finally drew his gaze from the ground and to the emperor’s hardened stare.

“Are you going to punish me?” he spat.

“No,” Geta said with a slight shake of his head.

“I defied you. I deserve to be punished, so fucking punish me,” he snarled through gritted teeth and the emperor couldn’t help but let his mask fall briefly. A smirk crossed over his lips.

“And do you believe that your deliberate display of defiance will shorten your servitude and grant you your freedom faster than the rest?” He gestured with his hand.

“No,” Acacius said grimly and his eyes lowered their gaze back to the floor.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Geta demanded.

Acacius glared up at him, his brows were pinched together and his lips were set in a harsh line. “He didn’t deserve to die. He fought just as hard as I did. That is why I chose to spare his life.”

Geta chuckled at this. “And yet, your opponent is out there right now, boasting that he won. Do you think that he is grateful for your mercy?”

“I do not care if he boasts that he won. I saw the fear in his eyes, Geta. He did not want to die. voluit vivere.” (He wanted to live)

“Everyone wants to live, Acacius. But you cannot save every person from their predestined fate,” He sighed and stood up and dropped his hands behind his back. “Do you remember the day that we met?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I asked you what you desired most in this life, and you told me that all you wanted was to be a free man, Acacius. Caracalla believed that you wouldn’t defy the odds that were stacked against you. He claimed that you wouldn't survive your first fight, but you proved him wrong. You showed strength, bravery, and resilience. Your courage has not gone unnoticed, and it is most admirable. I can make you a free man, I can turn your life’s legacy into something great—beyond your wildest dreams, but I require your trust and loyalty.”

Acacius wanted nothing more than to laugh in his face, but he wouldn’t give Geta the satisfaction. Instead, he steeled his expression and despite the pain in his shoulder, he sat up straighter, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched, “you will never gain my trust and loyalty for as long as I live.”

“I pity you, Acacius. You refuse to see the potential for greatness that you possess. Your hatred for Rome, and the man that tore you from your mother and the life you knew, into a life shackled in servitude, clouds your judgment. I granted you mercy five years ago. I could have casted you aside, let you fend in the streets like some feral beast till your spirit eventually fades, and still you refuse the hand that I am graciously offering you.”

“Mercy?!” Acacius barked out a strained laugh. “That’s what you believe that you granted me?! If you were merciful, you would have freed me! Instead, you have forced me to fight for your own entertainment. The games are a spectacle for the people of Rome. You bring them bloodshed and brutality and they love you for it.”

“They don’t just love me, Acacius. The people of Rome love you. Do you not feel a sense of pride when they chant your name? Acacius the great! Perhaps even the greatest gladiator that Rome has ever seen!” Geta exclaimed.

“I never wanted to be a gladiator. I never wanted to spend my life killing men who share the same circumstances as I. I-I wanted my life to be different. I don’t want greatness. I don’t desire wealth or materialistic pleasures,” He whispered solemnly and Geta imagined a boy, no older than thirteen, and already so broken when he looked at the man kneeling before him.

“Then I implore you to rethink your strategy to gain your freedom. Defy me all you choose, but if you continue down that route, you will either die in that arena, or rot in a cell till you inevitably die. The choice is yours, and for your sake, I hope you choose wisely. Nothing is permanent, Acacius. Remember that.”

“If the gods wish for me to die in the Colosseum, or bound in the chains that you put me in, so be it.”

Geta said nothing more, and he turned on his heel to walk away. His guards awaited his command, but he did not address them. That’s all Acacius could think about when the guards surrounding him took it upon themselves to punish him. His wrists and ankles were shackled in iron, and he didn’t make a sound, or flinch when the crack of a whip rang loudly in his ears as it was brought down against his back and shoulders. His already tarnished tunic had been ripped down the middle, exposing his scarred skin. The pain was soothing, in a morbid fashion. The feeling of his flesh being marred, and blood dripping from the open wounds should have caused him to cry in distress, but he took his punishment in complete and utter silence.

He did not give them the command.

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whencyclopedia · 3 days ago

Photo

Triumphal Arch

The Triumphal Arch was a type of Roman architectural monument built all over the empire to commemorate military triumphs and other significant events such as the accession of a new emperor. Celebrated surviving examples of triumphal arches include the Arch of Constantine and the Arch of Septimius Severus, both in Rome.

Triumphal arches could have a single arch or multiple arches with a larger central arch. They were often erected over major thoroughfares and as this structure had no practical function as a building it was often richly decorated with architectural details, sculpture and a commemorative inscription, typically made using bronze letters.

Early Arches

The earliest known examples of triumphal arches date from the 2nd century BCE and were set up by L.Sertinius in the Forum Boarium and near the Circus Maximus in Rome in 196 BCE to commemorate his campaigns in Spain. Sometimes arches were used to replace existing city gates, for example, at Timgad (modern Algeria) in the 2nd century CE, at Antalya (modern Turkey) and at Verulamium in Britain. Arches could also stand across approach roads outside the city proper, for example, at Aosta, Aquino, Canosa and Jerash. At Ancona one triumphal arch even stands in splendid isolation on one of the harbour moles. Many arches were, though, free-standing symbolic monuments protected by steps and so were not accessible to through traffic, for example, the four-way arch of Septimius Severus at Lepcis Magna (c. 200 BCE) and the arches of Tiberius and Titus in Rome.

#History #15thcentury #19BCE #312CE #WHE #[#]

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thesiltverses · 1 year ago

Note

any clues on whats next after tsv ends ? :)

No concrete confirmation, but we did put out a Patreon post back in spring with a few draft pitches, to gauge initial interest and see what kind of genre storytelling folks were most excited to see from us.

I'll paste them below, so you can see the kinds of things we've had in mind (#2 and #3 were the most popular, but it was a fairly even spread outside of that). We've had a few more really fun ideas since then that I'll keep schtum about for now.

General feedback was that people were most enthusiastic about seeing ongoing, multi-season projects from us, which makes perfect sense and is much more sensible for us anyway in terms of sustaining a livelihood / retaining audience members along the way.

That said, TSV has been a three-year endeavour which is a big commitment, and personally I think the best horror is often self-contained, short and sweet.

So I'd really love to have the time to work on a few miniseries-type shows as well, but also need to recognise that we likely don't have the bandwidth to juggle two projects simultaneously.

With all that in mind, I think the direction we're hoping to be able to pursue is:

1+ shorter horror miniseries or one-offs with production or network partners (if they want to work with us) where we're largely on writing duties or with a lighter load.

1 longer, ongoing weird-fiction show which is all ours, baby, all ours.

Draft pitches

#1: Manes

Genre: Historical horror, cosmic horror, family drama with murderous stakes

Influences: The Terror Season 1, pretty much.

Summary: In 208 AD, the ailing Roman emperor Septimius Severus travels north across Hadrian's Wall into Caledonia, with the aim of finally uniting Britain under imperial rule.

For Severus, there's more at stake - his two sons are openly at odds over the succession, and it's openly said that civil war will follow the emperor's death.

Severus himself rose to supreme power through violence and the elimination of his rivals. Now, haunted by the possibility of revenge by the shades of the divine dead and dwelling unhappily on his legacy, the emperor hopes to share his final triumph with his sons and demonstrate a different lesson to them - that an equitable peace is a lasting possibility.

But as the Roman column makes its way north into apparently endless woods, surrounded by cronies, schemers, Britons, soothsayers, priestesses of Cybele, and more, the emperor and his family find that their enemy is nowhere to be seen - but they are being pursued by a force that is both strange and terrible.

And soon enough, the Romans realise that they have perhaps strayed not into Caledonia at all - but into a hostile realm of their own imagining...

Why make this show? We adore period horror, and there's far too little of it out there.

Severus and his family are a fascinating set of characters who we'd love to spend some time with - as ethically-compromised participants in a very Shakespearean tragedy, and as individuals whose heritage, religious beliefs and psychologies allow us to explore aspects of ancient Rome that haven't been done to death in fiction already.

#2: I'll Dance In The Deep Shadow

Genre: Weird-fiction noir, paranoid espionage fiction, cosmic horror

Influences: Cold War spy classics, Roadside Picnic

Summary: Across the water from the mainland UK, a vast walled city has come unexpectedly into existence.

The city’s walls are composed of purest shadow; its leaders have not revealed themselves to us, nor have they made demands of us.

Upon its streets, our own dead and forlorn doubles wander; grinning doppelgangers who seem to know something terrible from the future that’s to come.

We call the city Umbra.

Umbra is a bottomless well of shadow and secrets; its darkened landscapes are home to suppressed memories turned savage and monstrous.

Its citizens and its guards are twisted echoes, repetitions, and whispering relics of the world's buried past - and they will not reveal Umbra's purpose to us.

Around Umbra's great walls, representatives from the world's governments gather and plot against one another - mercenaries, guides, spies, black-market traders, scientists and killers - to infiltrate the city, map its streets, and navigate its dangers for themselves.

Why make this show? Less of an Eskew sequel than it probably sounds at first glance, this one.

We'd love to do a paranoid, twist-filled, pessimistic John Le Carre-style spy thriller, with multiple characters who can neither trust themselves nor each other - and we feel like we've got some really interesting horror themes around memory and forgetting here to explore with this concept.

#3: Our Wars Have Ended

Genre: Dark fantasy, New Weird fantasy

Influences: The Black Company, the Bas-Lag series, Gormenghast.

Summary: It’s a strange time to be alive.

Thirty years ago, countless legions of the ancient dead rose from their graves to conquer the living lands; lands which now rest in an uneasy - but peaceful - state of occupation.

Withered corpses sit upon the thrones of the living and play silent courtier in the shadowed halls, acting out the rituals and habits of their past lives while dead men and women keep watch from the ruined towers.

Mortal historians and linguists frantically mediate between our returned masters, trying to keep the peace - which estate belongs to whom? Who shall rule eternal? Which traditions deserve to live on?

But this is a time of wondrous change, too - new technologies, empowered by the revelations of the Dead Reclamation and the will of the Ancestors. Strange machines rumble through the hills and necronautical vessels delve into the unexplored territories of the afterlife itself.

And it has been announced that the Hollowbrow Queen will unite the nation with a powerful gesture, taking on a living consort in a marriage of the fleeting and the eternal.

On one side of the conquered country, an old veteran leads his mercenary company on a reluctant expedition towards the capital, in the employ of a long-dead king on a mission of revenge.

On the other, a young dead-diver and essayer into the realms of the dead is hired to investigate a peculiar mystery, and a conspiracy that may involve both the living and the returned…

Why make this show? Because Game of Thrones had no interest in the (to us) enjoyable questions of 'well, why do the ancient dead want to conquer the living, exactly? What happens once they've done it?' and we'd love to deconstruct that and play with the idea of loathsome undead aristocrats from every period of history squabbling with one another over what their conquered nation actually means.

Because we think we've built up the confidence and the skills to take a big swing at an epic adventure story and a semi-traditional fantasy - it feels like an idea that could potentially appeal to a wider audience while remaining true to our own core values of Weirdness, Horrible Things and More Weirdness.

#4: To Those Who Wait

Genre: Cosmic horror, dark comedy, mockumentary

Influences: Dead Set, Ghostwatch, Savageland, Evil Dead

Summary: Eskew Productions has gone in a surprising direction with its latest production - a new reality experiment and dating-show podcast.

Eight lovelorn singletons have been given rooms in the exclusive Gregory Hotel. Over the course of six weeks, these contestants will go on dates, carry out team challenges, and ultimately try and find themselves a life partner - all without seeing each other's faces.

The aim of the experiment? To prove that good things really do come to those who wait.

As they pore through a mixture of recorded and behind-the-scenes footage, however, it may become very apparent to listeners that something else is waiting in the Gregory.

And one by one, our contestants find themselves at risk of far more than being voted off...

Why make this show? As a great big act of play more than anything else.

We adore horror mockumentaries, but in audio-drama they tend to be faux-journalistic.

Doing a show that instead mimics hokey reality shows to the point of being mistakable for the real thing, but turns out to be a ghost story instead...that's a lot of fun to us.

#5: In The Devil's Counties

Genre: Historical horror, cosmic horror

Influences: Nathan Ballingrud's Wounds, Seven Samurai, Between Two Fires, Dog Soldiers, Aliens…

Summary: As the Magna Carta states: “All evil customs relating to forests and warrens, foresters, warreners, sheriffs and their servants, or river-banks and their wardens, are at once to be investigated by twelve sworn knights of the county, and within forty days of their enquiry the evil customs are to be abolished completely and irrevocably.”

In early-medieval Sussex, a motley group of knights rides out to investigate tales of ungodly horror and acts of forbidden worship from deep in the English countryside - including Ralph Dagworth, 'hell's mapmaker'.

What the party of knights discovers out in the warrens and the forests of the county, however, is far stranger and more terrible than any Christian conception of hell…

Why make this show? Again, because we're itching to have a go at some period horror, and that weirdly specific Magna Carta quote is just too fun to pass up as a springboard for some 'isolated squaddies in enemy territory' storytelling. (Sadly, it does have a more grounded explanation.)

#6: Strangling Knot

Genre: Anthology horror

Influences: Junji Ito, experimental 8-bit horror, Black Mirror's Bandersnatch

Summary:

“The rules of the game are simple. This is a place of endless forking paths and one exit.

There’s something terrible in here with you. Get ready."

A Choose Your Own Adventure-style horror audio anthology; each episode is a distinct story with branching paths that may lead to failure (most of the time) or escape (more rarely).

Why make this show? This is likely the only show that we could reasonably produce as a side-project (and we've been chatting to a couple of other talented horror creators about it already, sssh).

We'd like to be able to play with single-narrator horror storytelling again that's relatively quick and easy to produce - but we do want to at least try and ensure it doesn't feel like we're repeating I Am In Eskew.

There's some really fun stuff happening out there already with CYOA-style audiodrama, and that seems like an opportunity that's ripe for playing about with.

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