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gorbo-longstocking · 4 months ago

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Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter 2

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Aelius shares his reservations about Marianus’ plan to give you to the emperors to become their personal physician. After a night of mindless chattering, and a near endless trek to the heart of Rome, you meet Emperors Geta and Caracalla in all their terrifying glory.

Tags: Dehumanizing treatment, hair pulling, Geta and Caracalla being dicks, mentions of slaves and slavery, medical inaccuracies probably, as historically accurate as possible, mentions of parasites and parasitic infestations, dissociating from a pov character, unbeta’d. That’s it I think

Note: Italicized words are both Latin, and when the POV character speaks English

Word Count: 6.5k Words

Chapter One.

Playlist

Upon entering Aelius’ tent, he was quick to make his displeasure for Marianus’ decision known. You blinked rapidly when his hands clasped your wrists, his distressed face inches from yours as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Centurio Marianus must be mad!” A bit of anxiety crept into his edges and he cast a furtive glance outside to check if Marianus heard him. After breathing a sigh of relief, he pulled the flap shut, his mouth set in a grim line. “The emperors are— are— I cannot even say for fear of being heard, medicus. That is how bad this is.”

You felt your lips pull into a frown, the guilt on Marianus’ face making more sense by the second. “They are corrupt?”

Aelius nodded, his sweat-damp hair flopping with the motion. “More than that. They are bloodthirsty and known for their quick tempers, especially Emperor Caracalla. Do not let his appearance fool you, he is quick to demand death to those who displease him.”

History wasn’t your best subject, and while the name Caracalla was familiar, you didn’t know enough about him, or his brother, to put a name to the face, nor to their actions. All you had to go by was what Aelius said. He was one of their subjects, the average legionary. If even he had poor things to say about his emperors, spoken in whispers for fear of who could be listening, it meant their rule was certain to have spread dissent within the people.

Unbidden, a cold shiver shot up your spine. If you died in your dream, would you wake up? Or, perhaps, a more sinister fate awaited you if you let your guard down for even a second. Especially now that you knew exactly the kind of men these emperors were. A sharp stab of anger towards Marianus lanced through your chest. Putting you in such a precarious position with no choice was cruel, even if he was right that the opportunities for you in the empire were limited, to say the least. Surely, there was a better option than this.

Your terror must have shown on your face because Aelius looked both guilty and ashamed. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have frightened you like that. My worry got the better of me, it won’t happen again. I— I just do not wish to see the man who saved my life suffer a terrible fate and—” He snapped his jaw shut. “Now, I will stop. Is there anything else you wish to speak of, medicus?”

A deep inhale steadied your racing heart, and you met Aelius’ nervous eyes with a smile. “Are you having any trouble breathing? Shortness or breath, a headache, any chest pain?”

Surprise made Aelius’ eyebrows disappear into his sand-colored curls before that boyish grin spread across his face once more. “Some chest pain, though I suspect that is from the bruises you left during your procedure.” Scooting back, he sat cross legged on his bedroll. “You are very strange, medicus.”

You let out a pleased hum at Aelius’ status. Still, you intended to observe him through the night in case of any complications. “How so?”

“You are more worried about my wellbeing than your own,” Aelius responded with a shrug. “It’s odd. There are not many like that.” He tilted his head, looking off in thought. “Then again, I suppose that is what makes for a good physician.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you gave him a bashful smile. “I try to be.”

Aelius huffed out a sigh, crossing his arms. “I apologize for bringing this up again, but this is exactly why Centurio Marianus shouldn’t hand you away to the emperors. Talent and kindness such as yours should not be wasted on those—” Swallowing his criticisms, he continued on a different tangent, “Yes, you are far too soft for the legions, and yes, you are unmistakably foreign, but there must be a better option before us…”

He was right, there must be, though whatever that option was, it escaped you. Even if Aelius helped you abscond into the night, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun Marianus, let alone the soldiers he was sure to send after you, likely on horseback. You frowned. That was another problem, you didn’t know how to ride a horse, so that method of locomotion was out of the question. Then, there was the issue regarding your rights as a free-man. You remembered a little bit from your ancient life classes you took in college, and most of that revolved around the fact that, until you were a citizen, any minor infraction could have you named a slave. The prospect was terrifying, even in a dream.

You blinked, remembering yourself. That was right, this was a dream, and this was the path that it wanted you to take. A physician for two Roman despots. Who were you to deny your subconscious? You would simply have to be careful to not earn the emperors ire while in their service.

“I… How quick are their tempers, Aelius?”

He stopped muttering, he had been the entire time, his Latin too quick for you to pick up, to glance up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I have never been in the presence of either emperor personally, all I know are rumors, and the rumors are not flattering to say the least.”

Mirroring his position, you sat on the earth across from him, your eyes firmly on his. “Tell me, please. I must prepare for my future.”

Aelius let out an uncomfortable noise as he shifted in place. Unable to meet your eyes, he looked off towards the lantern that illuminated the small space. He appeared nervous, as if he was preparing for you to burst into tears.

“They say that Emperor Caracalla relishes in bloodshed, to the point of finding it sexually stimulating. His brother, Emperor Geta, has a similar thirst for blood, although not for the same reasons.” Leaning closer, Aelius brought his voice down to a barely there murmur. It was then that you became aware just how badly he stank and, despite yourself, your nose wrinkled. “I hear he knows that he and his brother are unpopular with the people and he’s terrified of losing control, so he reacts to even small infractions with the highest of punishments. You must be careful.”

You gave him a distant nod, your mind elsewhere despite his grim warning. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“Huh?” He muttered, his tanned skin becoming a shade darker as he pulled back the collar of his tunic to give himself a sniff. A grimace made his features scrunch and he gave you an apologetic smile. “Eheu, I do smell bad. I apologize, Centurio Marianus assigned me to help with the horses as punishment for what happened earlier.”

“Punishment for dying,” You deadpanned.

Aelius laughed, good natured and hearty. “I may not agree with his decision to give you to the emperors, but he is a good superior. Any other centurion would have beaten me bloody with his vitis. Many say Marianus is too soft with his men, though I would follow him into even the most hopeless of battles.”

Shoulders slumping, you felt yourself deflate. While your anger at Marianus for basically selling you off was still there, you couldn’t help but respect the man. “What is a vitis? I do not recognize the word.”

“Ah, yes, somehow, I forgot how foreign you are,” Aelius laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “Your Latin is decent and you are civilized, you cannot fault me.” He reared back his arm and mimed hitting someone with what you assumed to be a stick or a rod. “A vitis is a staff made of grapevine that symbolizes a centurion’s authority. With it, he can discipline even citizens.”

You opened your mouth to ask if Marianus ever hit anyone, only for Aelius to quiet you with a raised finger. A boyish grin adorned his face as he began to dig through his pack to retrieve a spare tunic. It was an off white color with two complimentary red stripes down the sides. After he pulled out a belt, he handed both to you, his expression both proud and teasing.

“Put these on, medicus. Trousers are the mark of a barbarian, and while I am aware that you are civilized, the emperor's may not be. You need to make a good first impression.”

Examining the tunic, you stood and held it up to your body. Aelius was a bit broader than you, so it would be baggy, and the hemline would hit below your knees, but it would do. You gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, you are very good to me.”

“That is unnecessary,” He said, parroting your words from earlier back at you, playfulness glinting in his honey eyes. “I am merely doing my duty.”

You gave him a swat on head, your laughter bubbling from your chest. “Turn around, soldier.”

“A modest and a shy, medicus? You are an enigma, my friend,” Aelius teased, though he readily obliged your request, giving you the privacy you desired. After you were dressed, he offered you a pair of sandals similar to his own. It was an easy pass. The shoes you currently wore, while strange to him, were made for working long hours and you would rather die than march tomorrow with no lumbar support.

The rest of the night was spent talking with Aelius. Maybe it wasn’t your smartest move to deprive yourself of sleep before what was surely going to be nearly twelve hours of walking, but you didn’t want to risk falling asleep and something going wrong with Aelius’ recovery. In solidarity, he offered to stay up with you. It was sweet, and you found yourself becoming even fonder of the man. When you awoke, you would miss him terribly, and if you were even an ounce more sentimental, you’d dare to call him a friend.

He told you about his family back home. Of his little sister who he loved dearly despite not getting to see her often since he joined the military, his matercula, a woman with a seemingly endless well of kindness at her disposal, and his pater, a former playwright of some renown who was known for his comedies. After Emperor Geta and Caracalla rose to power, at the request of his wife, he stopped taking part in theater out of fear of retribution. Unfortunately, this meant that Aelius’ pay as a soldier was most of his family’s income.

In return, you regaled him with censored tales of your life in reality. Your long hours, how your focus on your studies rendered you unable to make the connections with others that you wanted, and how your parents' iron grip on you never seemed to loosen. It was the first time in a long time that you had managed to be so candid with someone else. Honestly, it was nice. You never had much time for friendship, maybe this was your brain’s way of telling you to try harder once you woke up. You weren’t on bad terms with your peers, you could always start there. All you had to do was wake up.

It wasn’t until you heard the camp begin to stir did you realize the sun was beginning to rise. You let out a yawn and stretched your arms over your head.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now,” You muttered as Aelius began to pack up his belongings in preparation for taking down the tent.

“Coffee?” The English sounded strange coming from him, an accent you couldn’t quite place draping itself around the word. He finished rolling up his bedroll and put out the lantern before shooing you out of the flap. “What a strange word. What is it?”

“It is…” You trailed off, thinking of the best way to explain. “A dark, bitter drink that energizes you upon consumption. If you are tired, all you have to do is finish a cup, and you will be awake as if you were well rested.”

Aelius chuckled, and you watched as he expertly took down the tent and rolled it into a small enough fold to place in his marching pack. Around you, other men did the same, in various states of completion. Once he was done, he straightened and handed you a waterskin. “Will posca do, medicus?”

“What is posca?” Marianus had mentioned it was what most soldiers drank and was on par with boiling water — even if you didn’t quite believe that — though you didn’t have a chance to ask what it was. With a curious sniff, you recognized the sharp smell of vinegar emanating from the waterskin.

“It’s a mix of water and wine vinegar. Sometimes, if I have it, I mix in some honey.” With a hand between your shoulder blades, he hefted his pack higher onto his back and began to lead you elsewhere. “The vinegar helps purify the water.”

You tied the waterskin back on Aelius’ marching pack without taking a sip. “I can see the benefits. The vitamins would help prevent scurvy and if I recall correctly, vinegar has antimicrobial properties. However—“ With your hands on your hips, you gave him a disapproving glare “— It does not protect against parasites. You must be full of worms! I insist that from now on, you only drink boiled water, Aelius.”

Aelius raised a teasing eyebrow. “That is not where worms come from, even I know this, medicus.”

“Where do they come from then, dominus?”

At the sarcastic honorific, a sharp bark of a laugh echoed through the open air. Aelius shook his head with a smile. “You get worms if there is too much food in your belly and it begins to rot.”

“Wrong!” You exclaimed. “You get worms from drinking dirty water, coming in contact with infested fecal matter, or eating raw meat. That is only to name a few.”

“… Are you certain?” His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed into a thin line. Uncomfortable, he cast a glance at his waterskin hanging off his pack behind him.

You gave him a firm nod. “Absolutely. I would not lie to you. Boil water if you have the time.”

Aelius let out a huff. “If you hadn’t saved my life, I would think you were speaking nonsense. I will take your advice. Unfortunately, we do not have time to boil any water before we begin our march, so posca will have to do.”

“I’m not drinking that,” You said, firm in your decision. Dream or not, you would not be besieged by worms. Given how vivid and realistic everything had been so far, you wouldn’t put it past your subconscious to give you a whipworm infestation.

Aelius only shrugged in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking he kept to himself, continuing to follow his fellow men towards the horses where Marianus was sure to be waiting.

As the sun began to rise, you and the rest of the century continued your slow, miserable trek to Rome. Once the two of you caught up to Marianus, he informed you that he sent a carrier pigeon to the emperors, warning them of your arrival. Apparently, he told them that you were a physician who could bring the dead back to life. Fantastic.

Marianus defended this decision by insisting that you needed to play to your strengths, and Aelius was clinically dead when he was pulled from the water. You weren’t the only one to check his pulse, you merely happened to be the one to bring him back. Your only response was a tired grimace as you turned back towards the horizon as you prayed for a pair of sunglasses to fall out of the sky. If the heat didn’t kill you, the glare was sure to blind you. Your mother would call you dramatic if she was here, but she wasn’t, so dramatic you would be.

It must have been summer because the sun was oppressive and unforgiving. You let out a low groan as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of your nose. Now that it was afternoon, the heat was unbearable, and you were still a few hours out from the city. Though you had refused the posca Aelius offered you over the course of the march, you were so dehydrated, you were considering the worms to be worth it if only to cure your horrible dry mouth.

Earlier in the day, you had checked on your patients, who were being transported together in a horse drawn cart. Unfortunately, the man with dysentery died in the night, something you felt immense guilt for. You shouldn’t have been talking to Aelius, not when there was a man who needed you. While you knew that Marianus would have dragged you back to the tent, kicking and screaming, as soon as he caught wind you were working again, that didn’t mean you should not have tried. The veterinarius assured you he lasted longer than expected under your recommended treatment. You couldn’t help but let out a frustrated noise. If you had access to more modern supplies and medication, you would have been able to save him.

Thankfully, your other patients were doing well. The maggots had eaten a majority of the necrotic flesh on the man you were most worried about. After removing most of the maggots, but leaving a few to eat what dead tissue remained, you gave the man with a fever another ibuprofen and hoped he’d receive better care in the city. For now, you had to keep his body from cooking him alive.

Unfortunately, though, you were exhausted, even more so than before. Coupled with the heat, your headache was bordering on unbearable. Aelius had slowed down significantly to keep in time with your dragging steps, and you couldn’t help but glare at him out of the corner of your eye. He was practically skipping. How was he not suffering as much as you were? You both pulled an all-nighter. Maybe it was because he was keeping hydrated with his evil worm juice. You licked your chapped lips at the thought.

Damn this dream, damn it all to hell.

After ten more minutes of walking, you said fuck it, and climbed into the cart carrying the sick and injured. At this point, you were sure to be so dehydrated, you were considered one of their kind. Flopping face first into the hot wood, you only closed your eyes for a moment before the world faded to black.

What woke you wasn’t the furious snapping by the side of your head, nor Aelius’ frantic shaking of your shoulder. It was the stench. The smell of sweat mingled with incense, and strangely enough, piss, mingled to create the tragic symphony of stimuli that accosted you. Jolting upwards, the top of your head nearly slammed into Aelius’ nose. You blinked wildly at the sight in front of you. If you didn’t already know you were dreaming, you would be certain of it now.

Before you was a bustling city, but like none you had ever seen. People in unfamiliar clothes, mostly tunics on men and long dresses on women — stolae you recognized distantly — all in a multitude of bright shades danced around your cart. Some shot dirty looks at you, and the horses leading you onwards, for taking up half the road. With wild eyes, you took in the beautiful, but strange architecture that surrounded you. Once before, in reality, you had visited Rome, and even then the remaining ancient structures drew your awe. Now, though, they left you speechless. You had to crane your neck as you passed by the colosseum to see the top. Statues sat between arches, almost judging your humble nature, stared down from above. You squeezed your eyes shut. To keep from becoming hysterical, you fixated your gaze on the bottom of the cart. It was plain, like you. A comrade in arms, you supposed

There were two unfamiliar men driving the cart now, and the only people in the back with you were Aelius and Marianus. A flick to your cheek drew your attention elsewhere.

“Boiled water, just for the spoiled medicus.” Though Marianus was frowning, his words lacked any real heat. He handed you a small tin pot full of water. Greedily, you chugged the contents faster than you would recommend for one of your patients. Whatever, you were never good at taking your own advice.

“Where are we?” You mumbled, a part of you still stunned by the sights around you. “When did you find the time to boil this?”

Aelius laughed and wrapped an arm around you. You noticed he was in his armor now, the sharp edges digging into your side. “We are in the City, my friend. Marianus had some boiled when we arrived on the outskirts. That is where the rest of our men are camped, waiting for the rest of the legion to arrive from up north.”

You cast a glance at the men driving the cart. They had their backs to you, crimson armor glowing in the afternoon sun. “Who are they?”

“Two of the Praetorian Guard. The emperors sent them to escort us,” Marianus muttered under his breath, his mouth set into a stern frown. “Best behavior from here on out, medicus.”

“Explains the dirty looks, doesn’t it?” Aelius joked only to snap his jaw shut after a withering glare from Marianus.

Dread squirmed in the pit of your gut the closer you got to Palatine Hill, and subsequently, the emperors themselves. These were the men Aelius warned you about, the men that even Marianus felt guilt for handing you over to. As far as they knew, you were a magician capable of necromancy, or at least that was what your heat-addled brain supplied. You knew that CPR was a valid technique for saving someone’s life, and you knew how exactly it worked. The average Roman — though, twin emperors were nowhere near what you would consider the average Roman — wouldn’t know any of that. You were lucky Marianus didn’t order you dead to begin with.

Uncomfortable, you clutched your duffle bag to your chest. You were thankful Aelius thought to bring it, you had all of your supplies in there. If the emperors didn’t order you to be executed where you stood, you would need your stethoscope and sphygmomanometer to perform a basic checkup on them. Clenching your jaw, you shook your head to clear your anxiety. Focus on the brightest outcome and how to get there, you told yourself. You must remain optimistic.

For a realist, such as yourself, that was easier said than done.

When you looked up, Aelius offered you a reassuring smile, though it was strained at the edges. You returned it, your own wobbly and unconvincing. He squeezed you tighter against his side in an effort to comfort you before allowing his hand to drop. Sitting on the edge of the wagon, Marianus kept his eyes focused on the horizon, waiting for the palace to come into view. Almost on cue, you saw it off in the distance, both elegant and imposing, growing closer with each passing second. Oh, how you wanted to run away. The muscles in your legs clenched as if to prepare for such a fate, even if you would never dare to give into the urge.

You were about to enter the lion’s den. Or, perhaps the wolf's den was more fitting. Romulus and Remus were twins too, after all.

The flow of time was always strange for you, especially in times of high stress. You seemed to have a knack for gliding through life, working on autopilot as your brain fogged over into nothingness. Thankfully, this never happened at work. That wasn’t the kind of stress that got to you. Having another’s life in your hands helped ground you. Your own, on the other hand, that was when you shut down. The world blurred at the edges becoming fuzzy, almost like television static.

Distantly, you recognized Marianus informing you that you had arrived. It felt as though you were moving through water as you climbed out of the cart, your duffle bag hanging on your shoulder. Aelius must have noticed you were off. Instead of wondering what he was whispering to Marianus, you stared off at a fixed point in the distance.

A hand on the back of your neck startled you. “Fix yourself, medicus. We need you at your best.”

“I know,” You muttered.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew what this was. Dissociation was a habit your brain always latched onto in the worst of times. As you walked down the opulent halls, led forward by the praetorians, you did your usual techniques in an effort to calm yourself. It was strange, grounding yourself in a dream rather than reality, but it, thankfully, worked the same. Five things you could see — the marble columns, a bust of a man you didn’t recognize, a beautiful tapestry hanging upon the wall, a peacock parading about in the gardens outside, and Aelius’ concerned expression — four things you could hear — the patter of feet on marble, slaves whispering amongst themselves as they watched you pass, the sound of birdsong, and Marianus’ pointed ‘ahem’ — three things you could touch — the rough strap of your duffle bag, the hair on Aelius’ arm, and your own skin — two things you could smell — cooking pastries carried on the wind and incense, perhaps frankincense — one thing you could taste — the bitter tang of your own fear. It was simple enough. By the time you raised your gaze from your feet to catch a glimpse of fiery red sitting atop two thrones, you were nearly back to normal. There was still a bit of distortion in your vision, and for a moment, you realized that it had been like that for a while now.

Before you were able to assess that thought, Marianus bowed his head. You didn’t have a chance to see who he was bowing to. On instinct, you followed suit, your fingers clutching the strap of your duffle tight enough for your knuckles to go white.

“Caesarēs,” Marianus said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him, only lifting your head when he did. Upon two twin thrones sat two twin emperors, both with hair bright as a sunrise behind their golden laurels. One was taller, sitting straight backed with one leg crossed over the other, twisting a ring on his finger as he examined you. There was a paranoid air about him, as if the three of you were vipers he had noticed at the last second. The other looked completely disinterested in the entire ordeal, one leg up on his throne, the other outstretched in front of him as he rested his head on his fist. They were both wearing makeup with enough pale foundation for it to look cakey, but where one had kohl rimmed eyes, the other had doll-like blush adorning his cheeks. Their clothes were ornate and the gold that hung from their ears and around their neck clacked together with each minute movement.

“Centurion,” The one with kohl around his eyes stated as he stood, his gaze trained on you. More specifically your hair before darting to your shoes, his lips pursed into a thin line. “You are Lucius Marianus and this is the physician you brought us.” He stopped in front of you and you noticed his jaw was clenched so tight, a muscle in his cheek jumped. “The one who can bring the dead back to life.”

That got the other emperor’s attention. He perked up and you fought the urge to shiver under their dual stares.

To his credit, Marianus did not cow under the intimidation. “Yes, Emperor Geta. I witnessed the procedure myself along with a handful of my men. I can give you their names if you would like their secondhand accounts.”

So, the tall one was Geta. That meant the little one who was staring at you with a predatory smile was Caracalla. Your duffle bag was sliding off your shoulder, but you didn’t dare heft it any higher. You felt as though you were in the presence of a tiger about to pounce. The slightest movement would send either emperor on the offensive, and you really didn’t want to deal with that.

Geta’s pupils slid from Marianus, to you, before landing on Aelius, who visibly flinched under his stare. This seemed to please Geta, his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “And this is the so-called ‘man who died?’ I am sure you and the witnesses are from the same century, no less.” He sighed and took a few steps backwards, examining all three of you with his hands behind his back. “A century can be a very tight knit band of men, though I’m sure you already know this, centurion. They can be coerced to lie if their superior orders it.”

“It is no lie, Emperor,” Marianus replied, voice steady.

Caracalla spoke up for the first time, his voice a high-pitched rasp, “Perhaps a demonstration is in order, brother.”

“Yes, a demonstration of your skill, medicus.” Geta snapped his fingers and a praetorian stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his gladius. “I will have the centurion’s throat slit and you will prove to me that you can truly bring the dead back to life.”

“Wh- What?” Dumbfounded, you weren’t able to keep yourself from muttering in English. Marianus tensed, his mouth open to speak, though no words came out. Beside you, Aelius looked horrified, his face three shades paler than before. It took the praetorian unsheathing his blade for you to find your voice again. “Caesar, no, wait! That is not how the procedure works! If you slit his throat, I will not be able to save him without surgery!”

Geta raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Caracalla let out a sharp laugh. “Your accent is repulsive, foreigner. You speak Latin as a child would.” He grinned at you, blue eyes narrowed in cruel amusement. “See-zer. How ridiculous. Speak again, medicus, I want to hear more of your foolish words.”

“Yes, speak.” Geta was fidgeting with his ring again. He seemed to realize this, folding his hands behind his back, his eyes like coal. “Tell us how this procedure works then.”

“It- It, uh…” Licking your dry lips, you cast a glance at Marianus for support.

“Eyes on me, foreigner!” Geta barked. Your head snapped back to him, eyes wide and terrified.

“I apologize, I—”

“I did not ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation. Now, will you give me one, or must I have these men killed for you to find your tongue?”

A bit of cold sweat trailed down the back of your neck. It took everything you had to meet Geta’s gaze. “It’s a procedure called cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It works best on drowning victims and those who are suffering from heart problems. With your hands, you manually beat their heart, and with your mouth, you blow air into their lungs. If there is a wound, a disease, or some other problem that caused death—” You couldn’t believe you were relying on the metaphysical to explain this. What would your professors say? “— Then the spirit, no matter how strong, cannot return to the body as it has been deemed uninhabitable.”

While Geta seemed satisfied by your explanation, Caracalla was visibly disappointed. He turned his hunter’s eyes from you to Aelius. “And you, soldier. You are the one who died?”

“Yes, Caesar.” Unlike Marianus, Aelius was unable to keep the tremor from his voice. If you weren’t so close to Geta, you would have missed the pleased puff of air from his nose.

“Tell me,” Caracalla began, his grin growing wide enough to show off his singular gold tooth. “What was it like to die?”

“I do not rem— remember much. It was cold and dark, it felt as though I was both asleep and awake at the same time. I could have sworn I heard the ferryman approaching before suddenly I was… torn into awareness, my chest aching fiercely.” Gentle, he placed his hand against his chest. You were thankful you didn’t break any ribs. Once you had a moment away, you wanted to check over his bruises once more.

A strangely disappointed frown pulled at Caracalla’s lips. “That is it? No agony? No sorrow?”

“No, emperor, I felt calm. At peace, even.”

With an annoyed huff, Caracalla turned away, clearly done with the conversation. That left room for Geta to turn his attention back on you. “Where are you from, medicus? I had assumed you would be Greek considering your occupation, but I don’t recognize your accent.”

“Our last physician was Greek,” Caracalla piped up, eyeing your hair with interest. “He did not last long.”

“I- I am from…” What did you say? You couldn’t tell them that this was a dream, and saying you were from the future felt like a quick way to get killed. After a moment, you decided to rehash what you told Marianus. “I am from a country far across the western sea. It is large and civilized, much like Rome, th— though I am very impressed with what I have seen of your Empire. It’s beautiful, unlike anything I have ever seen before.”

The compliment made Geta’s chest puff out, no small amount of pride creeping into his features. “Yes, the Empire prospers under our rule.” It didn’t take long for him to remember himself, his expression steeling over once more. “I have never heard of a country to the west. Why is that? Why are you the first visitor I have ever heard of?”

“We are…” You didn’t know the Latin word for ‘isolationist,’ which left you floundering. “Our government likes us to be alone and not interact with other countries. We are not allowed to leave and no one is allowed in. I cannot return now that I am in Rome.”

“A shame,” Geta hummed, looking pleased. “And without citizenship, your options are limited.” Slow and predatory, he began to circle you. “Are you aware that an emperor is capable of granting citizenship?”

Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, you gave up on trying to keep him in your line of sight. With him behind you, goosebumps crept up your arms. “I assumed so.”

In front of you again, Geta ceased his circling. He seemed to have come to a decision. A flash of anger flickered over his face before it became stony once more, his hands clenched into tight fists behind his sides. “You will be the new imperial physician. If you serve me and my brother well, perhaps I will grant you citizenship.”

“And the reward I mentioned in my letter?” Marianus spoke for the first time in what felt like hours.

When Geta took his focus off you, a part of you relaxed. You couldn’t imagine being under either man’s piercing eyes for the foreseeable future without popping a blood vessel. “Yes, your men will be given respite before their next assignment. You, however, will remain here with this man.”

Marianus opened his mouth, probably to protest, before he thought better of it and clamped his jaw shut. “Yes, Caesar.”

“Physician,” Geta said, his voice sharp. “If you fail us in any way, you and these men will die. If you try to harm us in any way, you and these men will die. Am I understood?”

“Y— Yes, Caesar,” Was all you managed. Your heart thudded an angry rhythm in your chest. Having your own life forfeit was one thing, being responsible for two others, while familiar, was no less terrifying. It helped your mind sharpen, however. While you understood the human body innately, these games you would have to play with the emperors were new to you.

“Kai-sar,” Geta corrected through clenched teeth.

“No, don’t correct him, brother, I quite like his accent. It grows on me like maggots on a wound,” Caracalla laughed. It was squeaky and high pitched, almost mousy in tone if not for the harsh edge. With two fingers, he gestured for you to come to him. “Come here, medicus.”

It took everything in your power not to look at Marianus for permission. That had irritated Geta before, and with Aelius’ warnings ringing in your head about Caracalla, you would rather not earn his wrath either. Especially now that you knew it wasn’t only your life on the line. Cautiously, you took a few steps forward.

“Closer,” Caracalla intoned as he leaned forward in his throne.

With nervous, shuffling movements, you obeyed.

“Lean down.”

Your fingers twitched in front of your chest as you leaned down to be eye level with Caracalla, not even a foot away from him. In a blur of red, he lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, giving it a harsh yank. A scandalized yelp tore from your throat and you stumbled backwards as far as you could get the second he let go. It didn’t hurt too bad, but it was enough to startle you. When you looked up, he held a few wispy strands of green hair in his closed fist.

Caracalla let out a mean laugh. “His hair is real, brother. I knew it! Tell me, medicus, is that shade natural where you’re from.”

“I dyed it,” As hard as you tried to keep the annoyance from your tone, you failed miserably. To soothe the pain Caracalla left behind, you rubbed your knuckles against your aching scalp.

Geta looked amused at your expense, the harsh lines of his face softening once his brother was in view. Caracalla was oblivious to this change, his attention focused solely on you. “What is your name?”

When you told him your name, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “What a horrible noise. I refuse to call you that.” Caracalla turned to Geta, his hand lazily cradling his cheek as he rested his elbow upon his throne. “Brother, any ideas? Perhaps, viridans?”

Geta hummed, deep in thought. Given the speed at which he answered, it sounded as if whatever name he intended to give you had been on his mind since he met you. “Alga.”

In response, Caracalla let out another hyena-esque giggle, clapping his hands together with glee. “Yes, yes, Alga is perfect, brother!” Without missing a beat, he turned to you, gold tooth glowing in the sunset with the rest of his jewelry. “You are Alga, now, physician. We expect you to answer to it.”

Your mouth pressed into a thin line. It was the only sign of your displeasure you would let show. The emperors seemed to think of you as a stray dog or a new toy that they could tease and name as they saw fit. For as much as it irritated you, you had enough self preservation to let it go.

“Of course, Caesarēs.”

And just like that, you could practically hear the bars to your gilded cage lock shut.

A/N: Yayyyyyyy, chapter two is done. I am so, so worried that Geta and Caracalla are OOC or their dialogue seems off. Fuck it, we ball. I hope I was able to get it across well, but Geta is playing 5d chess with everyone in his head because he’s convinced Marianus and company are all traitors and spies. The only reason he agreed to let them become a physician was to catch them in the act and then make an example out of all three of them. In his defense, bringing someone back to life doesn’t seem very plausible. Caracalla, on the other hand, is too busy being like ‘tralalalala’ to keep up with the Kira Deathnote levels of insanity Geta is on.

Also, in case you missed it in the last authors note, ‘alga’ means ‘seaweed’ or ‘something of little worth’ in Latin. Those two are pricks with a capital ‘P’ let me tell you.

Oh, BTW, if you noticed that yn’s dialogue is stilted or weird in some placed, that’s on purpose! I’m trying to mimic the eay they sound speaking Latin, as it’s not theie first language and they are rather clumsy with it.

Anyway, thanks for reading!!! Comments mean so much to me btw, I love feedback. I need it to survive. And, if you have any questions about the Latin or cultural stuff, PLEASE ask, I would love to tell you. Yayyyyyy, that’s it, love you, bye!!!

Taglist: @snazzynacho @t6gse370

#emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #formatting this shit is evil fr #but haaaaiiiiii chapter two is donezo #do not blame the sea

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anyplaceisparadise · 3 months ago

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So there's been a whole discussion about humiliation and how Geta repeatedly gets embarrassed and disrespected throughout the film and I wanted to add one more moment that I noticed in the party at Thraex's scene.

Macrinus refers to Geta individually as 'your majesty' at Thraex's party, right after Geta has gotten up with everyone's eyes on him, to speak to Lucius. Lucius doesn't answer him, so Macrinus steps in and says that Lucius is from the colonies and his native language is all he knows, "your majesty". (Or whatever the exact words are, you know the line)

He then refers to both Geta and Caracalla as "your majesties" as a set just a short while later in the same scene. We already knew how embarrassing that moment was for Geta but Macrinus was really driving the knife in by referring to them as "your majesty/majesties" because as Mary Beard writes in SPQR:

"For the rest of Roman history, 'king', or rex, was a term of loathing in Roman politics, despite the fact that so many of Rome's defining institutions were supposed to have their origins in the regal period. There were any number of cases in the centuries that followed when the accusation that he was aiming for kingship brought a swift end to a man's political career." (pg. 125)

And then, from Mary Beard's Emperor of Rome:

'King' (or rex), however, was a more complicated matter. In the eastern half of the empire, where far more people spoke Greek than Latin, emperors were regularly called 'kings'. [...] But that was rarely the case at home, where Romans still prided themselves on having got rid of the last of their legendary early kings centuries before.

[...] From the beginning, most emperors were very keen to stress to their local audience that, whatever else they were, they were not kings." (pg. 38-39).

Contrast that with how they are addressed by their own gladiator in the first round of games. He yells "hail Caesars!", which is part of their actual titles:

Geta: Imperator Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Augustus

Caracalla: Imperator Caesar Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus

And from Mary Beard again:

"Future Roman emperors included both 'Caesar' and 'Augustus' among their titles." (Emperor of Rome, pg. 38).

She also writes about how an emperor is addressed through a speech delivered by Pliny the Younger to the emperor Trajan:

"And that is exactly how Pliny addressed the emperor through most of his vote of thanks: not 'Trajan' but 'Caesar' (which he used more than fifty times, compared with 'Trajan' just once). (pg. 34).

So when Macrinus is speaking to Geta as an individual and the twins as a set, he's disrespecting them by using 'your majesty', which is used to address a monarch, and Geta and Caracalla are decidedly not monarchs (imo Geta feels this more strongly than Cara about this but those are thoughts for another post).

Now, I don't think any of us is going to argue that these films are historically accurate because they're obviously not and maybe the use of 'your majesty' was entirely trivial. Maybe it was used by Macrinus because of where his character (yes I know he is a real person, they all are, but again, liberties were taken here) is supposed to be from, but I also think Macrinus is savvy enough to know what to call the emperors, especially when he is speaking to them directly in a room full of people.

tl;dr: Macrinus is cheeky and rude and Geta can't catch a break.

#gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #joseph quinn #fred hechinger #macrinus #denzel washington #allie rambles #this feels dumb to write out #like its super obvious to everyone but me but im here yelling about it anyway #if you read all this im sorry #mary beard #spqr #emperor of rome

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flapmemelord · 5 months ago

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some hispania (spain) / gallia (france) content (right to left)

context explained below !!

i've been very interested in seeing them wearing togas (to match with rome grandpa.....) so i did it, and gave the thing some background ... although losing to ancient rome had its consequences, i think Hispania was quick to try and make acquaintainces with fellow territories who had fallen under the same banner as he did (quick to put himself back together, socializing to cope, in a way...) (although probably his people, were farrr from sharing that mindset and understandably so-).

gaulish was already spoken before the invasion so he and Gallia mostly used that language together (probably to spite ancient rome or some of his people), it was time that made them speak latin, also rome grandpa's influence rubbing on them through architecture, art, notably (although they're proud of that heritage now, i think back then, speaking latin felt like betrayal to their people, for a whole while at least). they've got the complicity of friends that are tight close for years and beyond, and despite what tries to tear them away work out the stuff they have to together - you know the kind you're not sure whether theyre not going to hook up eventually with this much chemistry (and you can tell they're not sure either)

(France calling Spain Ispania is a shot to my people who tend to forget h exist and do things for the pronounciation, i do it too )

(also this work is doing wonders for me... i might be building transfem france hcs.... transmasc france has potential too i am tHINKING IT THrough)

#hetalia #hws spain #hws france #frain #spain x france #do they have a ship name ?#i only know pyrenees from pixiv #that ship made me discover there was a pyrenee dog AND ofc i hc itd be their favorite breed to take care of together #hispania / gallia #gallia's gender? a wonder #aph spain #aph france #antonio fernandez carriedo #francis bonnefoy

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avastrasposts · 7 months ago

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Bona Dea - part 4

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 7.4k

A/N: I'm back with part four of Bona Dea! Part 1, 2 and 3 are linked above. After the events of the last part, Acacius is now on his way to Rome with his domina to start planning for their new life together. I was originally thinking this would be the final part but the chapter got very long so there will be a 5th part too.

A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Letica - a vehicle, a litter used for carrying people Vita mea - my life Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia - Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius - Wherever you are, I will be

Marcus remained true to his word, he was there when you woke an hour later. The wagon had come to a stand still and he was gently caressing your cheek as he roused you from sleep with a soft whisper.

“Carrisime, wake up. We’ve arrived at the inn, let’s get inside,” his arm was warm on your shoulder as he sat up, his cloak still wrapped around you. “Alba,” he said, his voice a bit louder, “wake up, girl, rouse yourself.”

He held your hand as you stepped from the carriage into the courtyard of a country inn, and reached out to steady Alba as she stepped down too.

“Cauponi,” he called, seeing the door open, “send someone to take care of the horses and the ladies’ luggage. I want to get them inside and settled as fast as possible, they’ve had a very harrowing day.”

The guest master nodded and called over his shoulder to someone on the inside. Marcus kept his arm around you, keeping you steady on your feet, as he gestured to one of his men to help Alba. Grateful for his solid body next to yours, you ventured into the inn. A slave girl bowed low and waved you along, leading you all up the stairs to the guests’ quarters. The room she showed you too was small but comfortable, and you gratefully sank down onto the bed. Even though you’d slept in the carriage, the events of the day were catching up with you and you felt tired to the bone. Alba must’ve felt much the same, because she sat down on the bed next to you, aided by Marcus’ soldier. She gave him a grateful smile as he bowed and retreated. Marcus remained in the room, giving orders to the slave girl while you put your arm around Alba and pulled her close. She leaned her head on your shoulder and let out a deep breath.

“You’re safe now, puella,” you soothed her quietly, “we’ll get a good night’s rest and then the general will escort us to Rome.”

“We won’t go back home?” she asked and you shook her head.

“Lunaris gave orders to pack up and move the household to Rome, remember? I will have to figure out what to do with it all when they arrive. But it will take them some weeks to get to Rome.”

“Where will we stay when we get there?” she looked up at you with worried eyes and you realised you hadn’t thought of that yet. Marcus had asked you to begin a new life with him in Rome, but what did that mean? You couldn’t move in with an unmarried man, you needed a place to stay until everything had been sorted. You bit your lip as you tried to think of a solution, but Marcus came to your aid, as was becoming his habit.

“I have a good friend, Titus Cassian Aurelius, I’ve known him almost my whole life and I trust him with everything. He’s married and lives with his wife and two children near my villa on the Palantine, you’ll both stay with him for as long as is needed while you get your affairs sorted.”

“He won’t mind? I can rent something nearby, I don’t want to impose on him and his family,” you said as Marcus sank down next to you on the bed.

“It was his idea, the whole thing actually, he’s a very strategic man, my most trusted advisor,” Marcus said and then chuckled quietly.

“She’s already falling asleep again,” he nodded with a smile at Alba whose eyes had already slipped close again, “Get her to bed and come find me, I’m in the room next door. I’ve ordered them to serve dinner there,” he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

Marcus left and you tucked in Alba, lifting her legs onto the bed and covering her with the bedding. She looked peaceful sleeping, and you suddenly felt very tired yourself. The events of the bandit’s attack had been spinning at the back of your mind since you woke up in the carriage, now they filled your head, the choked gasp that escaped Lunaris as the man slit his throat repeating in your ears. You suddenly needed Marcus to hold you, to feel his warm body wrapped around yours, just to make you feel safe.

You tapped lightly on Marcus’ door and he quickly opened. One look at your eyes misted with tears, and he pulled you over the threshold as he closed the door, pulling you into his chest.

“Carrisime,” he mumbled into your hair as you buried your face in his soft tunic, his warm hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his arms holding you tight, “hush, vita mea, it’s over, you’re safe now. I’ll always keep you safe, amor.”

He stroked your back gently, slow soothing movements as your shoulders shook with each sob. All that could be heard was your whimpering, and Marcus’ softly mumbled words of comfort, reassuring you that you were safe, over and over again, until finally your breathing calmed down and your tears subsided. Marcus pulled back a little and gave you a small smile, cupping your jaw to wipe at your tear stained cheeks before he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

“I think you need some food, it’s been a very troublesome day. Come,” he took your hand and led you over to the table where a small dinner had been laid out. The inn was fairly simple, but Marcus’ room was clearly meant for guests of a higher status because it had the reclining seats next to the low table. With a grateful sigh you sank down on one of them and Marcus poured a cup of wine and handed it to you.

“Here, drink slowly, and have some food, it will make you feel much better.”

He reclined on the other seat as you gratefully sipped the wine, it wasn’t very good, but the sharp flavour of the grapes warmed you. Marcus filled a bowl with a simple stew and added some of the meat before he passed it to you.

“Here, eat, carissime,” he said, his eyes softening as they met yours and you took the bowl, He moved his hand to carefully push a strand of hair behind your ear, “I wish we could’ve been together in some easier way, I hate to see you so upset.”

“I’ve never felt so helpless before,” you sighed, “even when my father married me to Lunaris. I could always do something about my life, change something to make it more bearable. I had protection as his wife. But to see Lunaris pulled out of the carriage, and then the other man pulled me out, we were at their mercy and there was nothing I could do to protect myself or Alba. It felt like my world shattered when there was no one to help us. I was so helpless.”

Marcus shook his head wistfully, “I regret my plan, I should’ve taken out Lunaris myself, I never wanted to make you feel helpless. You’ve always seemed so strong, so capable, it’s what attracted me to you when we first met. Ordering me, a general, around like you’d done nothing else your whole life.” The last thing he said with a small chuckle and you smiled back at him as you swallowed down some more of the stew.

His face grew serious again and he sighed, “I forget when I’m with the army, surrounded by soldiers, how vulnerable women’s situation can be. I forbid my soldiers from hurting any women in the cities we conquer, but I wasn’t always a general who could command his own soldiers. I’ve seen first hand how men treat women after the battle is over.”

“Do you ever think of the people who are killed in all the wars?” you asked quietly and Marcus nodded.

“Yes, often. But when I was young, I never thought about them. To be a soldier and fight excited me, I was stronger than almost anyone, no one could beat me. And when Roman soldiers fell, I grieved the ones I called friends, but they’d had proud deaths, for the glory of Rome. They would be honoured by the gods for their sacrifice.”

He paused and put some more stew and bread in your bowl, “Eat and drink, carissime, and then you’ll sleep well tonight.”

You did as he said as Marcus rubbed his large palm over his face and sighed again.

“But I’m not young any more, and now they stay with me. Both the ones I’ve killed and the ones who die on my orders. I’ve lost count of all the men I’ve sent to their deaths. Even when we win great victories, men always die on both sides. War is brutal and I find I have less stomach for it these days.”

“And the men you killed today? Will they stay with you?”

“Maybe, but probably not. I feel no guilt about killing them, they were bandits. Even if I hired them to attack Lunaris, they were criminals. Titus got them from the local jail, they were headed for the arena.”

Marcus put his bowl down and took your hand, gently pulling you to your feet, “Stay with me tonight, carissime, no one will disturb us.”

You nodded as he led you to the bed and helped you out of your sandals, removing your jewellery as you undid your hair. His hands were soft as they brushed over your skin, unwrapping you until you stood in front of him in just your stola. With a soft smile he touched his fingertips to your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw and cupping it.

“I need to pay tribute to Bona Dea for guiding me to you, and giving me the chance of being with you for more than just one night,” his voice was low, the room very quiet except the crackling of the fire. You looked up into his eyes, warm and golden

“I want to spend all my nights with you, Marcus,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss his smiling lips as he wrapped his arms around you and returned the kiss.

“I hope you want to spend all your days with me too, carissime,” he mumbled against your mouth, resting his forehead against yours.

“I do,” you replied, tugging him gently onto the bed and pushing back the bedding.

Climbing into bed, getting under the covers with Marcus instead of falling into it in a frenzy of kisses and arousal, felt pivotal, even if the moment was very domestic, under strange circumstances. When Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. Never had your husband made you feel this safe and content, so treasured. And despite the tumultuous events of the day, you soon fell into a deep sleep, tucked against Marcus' chest and with his arms around you.

The next morning you woke, still wrapped in Marcus’s arms. It took you a moment to remember where you were, but at the sight of the strange room, the memories came flooding back. You turned your head to look at Marcus and found him just blinking awake, rubbing a drowsy hand over his eyes.

“Good morning, dominus,” you smiled at him, pushing back one of the dark curls from his forehead.

“Good morning, my domina,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep as he yawned wide.

He pulled you close again, guiding your head to his chest, “It’s too early, I haven’t slept this well in many months, let’s steal some time, carissime.”

You pressed a kiss against his chest and he grumbled low in appreciation as he closed his eyes.

He didn’t get many minutes of extra sleep though, barely no time seemed to pass and there was a heavy knock on the door.

“General, it’s septima hora,” a voice called.

“Thank you, Orbius. Tell the men to prepare to march.”

With a grumble he pushed himself up and glanced down at you, still curled up against him.

“One more day, tonight we’ll be in Rome and we can start preparing for our lives together properly.”

“I can’t wait, Marcus,” you replied, sitting up too. He took your chin between his thumb and finger and pulled you close, his mouth finding yours for a slow kiss.

“One for the road,” he smiled, “Come, let’s sneak you back to your room.”

The day in the carriage was long, but you and Alba passed the time by watching the landscape roll by and chat with Marcus who often rode next to the carriage and entertained you both with stories of his travels. With his men nearby, he couldn’t appear to be more than a casual acquaintance of your husband’s who’d just happened to rescue you from the bandits. But his smiles as he looked down at you filled you with warmth, and the mild December day seemed to hold a promise of spring as the arcadian countryside near Rome passed by.

You’d been to Rome once before as a young woman with your father, while emperor Marcus Aurelius still ruled. But not even the vague images in your memory could prepare you for seeing the grand capital of the empire up close again. With Alba pressed to your side, you both all but hung out of the carriage window, trying to catch a glimpse of the sprawling metropolis as the Aurelian Gate drew near. The structure loomed high over you, letting a steady stream of carriages, horses and pedestrians into Rome through the imposing city wall. Alba’s eyes were wide, the walls from your own small hometown were nothing in comparison to the thick bulwark that served to protect Rome.

The small force that had escorted you and Alba diverted to barracks at Campus Martius, and Marcus and two officers led the two carriages towards the Palantine and Titus’ villa. The Aurelian Way was wide and let the traffic pass easily as the tall buildings on either side grew more and more grand, the road beginning to snake its way up towards the crest of the hill. Soon the small party turned on to a narrower road and came to a halt in front of a gate. The sentry challenged the driver but snapped a sharp salute when he saw Marcus on horseback.

“General Acacius, welcome back, I’ll let Cassian Aurelius know that you have arrived and send men to take care of your party.”

“Thank you, Quintus,” Marcus replied, waving the two carriages through the gate.

Titus Cassian Aurelius’ villa was grand on a scale you’d never seen before, your own back home was nothing by comparison. You stepped down from the carriage as Marcus swung himself from his horse.

“My lady, it has been my pleasure to keep you safe on this journey, despite the grievous circumstances I found you in. My condolences again for the loss of your husband. I hope to see you soon again.”

With that, he bowed low, before turning on his heel and marching with sharp steps away into the house. It stung you a little, the way he had to seem almost indifferent to you while in front of others. It would be many weeks before your husband’s affairs were put in order, to declare you a widow and make it possible for Marcus to properly wed you. Until then he would have to appear to treat you as a fleeting acquaintance in public. Perhaps he could visit Aurelius’ villa regularly, they were old friends after all, and you could see him then. Even if Marcus couldn’t treat you like his wife yet, just seeing him would be enough, at least you’d both be in the same room.

A slave escorted Alba and you through beautifully decorated rooms and hallways until you reached two interconnected rooms in the guest quarters of the house.

Every wall was covered by mosaics and paintings, and in alcoves and quads were fresh flowers and works of art, beautiful effigies of the gods. The two rooms assigned to you both, opened up to a walled garden, and somewhere behind the evergreens you could hear tinkling water.

“Domina Aurelius would like to know that the villa’s bath is yours to use should you wish to refresh yourself after your journey,” the servant slave woman said as she stood by the door, waiting while you and Alba made yourself comfortable in your new lodgings. “There’s an alcove for your maid here, and the latrina is through that door.”

“Thank you,” you replied, “a bath sounds like a wonderful idea. Could you please show us where they are and arrange for fresh clothes to be brought there?”

The woman nodded and stepped aside to let you leave the room again. She led you to the villa’s thermae and left you to be cared for by the slave woman there. It was bliss to sink into the warm water and rinse off the dust and grime of the road. You lounged in the sunken pool while the woman worked on Alba, massaging sweet smelling olive oil into her skin and scraping it off. When your turn came, you all but fell asleep under her ministrations. The scraping of the strigil made your skin feel soft and warm and you both yawned wide as you made your way back to your rooms. But you weren’t left alone for long, there was a knock on the door and a dark haired man entered.

He bowed low and introduced himself as the master of the house.

“And call me Titus, please,” he said, a warm smile on his open face, “any friend of Marcu’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you for letting us stay here, Titus,” you replied gratefully, “I don’t know what we’d do if it wasn’t for your generosity.”

“It’s no trouble, the villa is big enough as you can see, and my dear wife was delighted by the idea of having some female company stay with us for a while,” he chuckled lightly, “She has no female relatives and and I have been away for a long time, she’s been running the house and taking care of our rag tag bunch of children. To have you two in the house will lift her spirits immensely.”

The fast thrumming of bare feet could be heard from the hallway outside the door and Titus’s bright blue eyes sparkled as he turned towards the sound.

“I think you’re about to meet one of my offspring, by the sound of it, Gaius, my oldest son.”

A boy about the age of eight tumbled through the door, a big grin on his face as his father caught him and swung him up in the air.

“You’ll wake up the dead with all that noise, Gaius,” Titus laughed, “What’s the rush?”

“Mater said to tell you that dinner will be served any moment and you should bring our guests into the dining hall.”

“Then we best do as she commands, and not upset the cook by letting his food grow cold,” Titus set Gaius down on the floor and extended his arm to you, “Please, domina, let me escort you, Gaius, show some good manners and escort Alba.”

Titus' friendly manner and easy laugh made you feel comfortable in his company almost straight away. And the fact that he was Marcus’ most trusted advisor further warmed you to him. You knew he knew about you and Marcus, he was the one who’d fashioned the plan for the ambush after all, and he seemed to have accepted Marcus’ words about you without any hesitation or doubt. You accepted his arm with a smile to match his and let him lead you out into the hallway. As you walked, Titus bent his head to yours and whispered.

“My wife and children don’t know about you and Marcus, I’ve kept it from them to make the secret easier to contain. But my wife is a very perceptive and clever woman, she might guess your attachment anyway.”

“Marcus said he trusts you with his life, does that extend to your wife?” you asked, wondering silently how you’d keep your eyes from wandering to Marcus as soon as he was near.

“It does, he’s known her for as long as I have and she is a good friend of his too. In fact, I’ve often wished for him to find a woman to marry to equal her. She is my eternal pillar, I truly do not know how I’d go through life without her by my side,” Titus replied with a soft smile. He glanced over his shoulder, Gaius was chattering away to Alba who was laughing at his excitement about the new horse that had just arrived.

“I’m looking forward to meeting her, she sounds like a remarkable woman,” you said, “And Marcus is lucky to have such good friends, I really can’t thank you enough for your help.”

“Marcus and I have known each other since we were boys, he’s saved my life countless times and we’ve been through many campaigns together. He is a great man and I’m proud to call him my friend.” Titus' emotions were clear on his face as he turned a corner and led you through a set of wide double doors into the dining hall, “I have never seen him so affected by a woman before, as he was when he returned to the camp after meeting you. If I can help him find the same happiness I have with my Antonia, I’ll do whatever he needs.”

Titus gave your arm a gentle squeeze before he held out his hand towards the woman who was walking across the room.

“Domina Lunaris, please meet my darling wife, Antonia Cassius Aurelius.”

The tall woman’s dark skin gleamed under the light of the oil lamps as she smiled at you. Her jet black hair matched that of her husband and her son, but while theirs was cut short and neat, her tight curls were piled high on her head and fastened with gold combs.

“Domina Lunaris, we’re honoured to have you and your cousin as our guests,” she embraced you warmly, taking you off guard with her fondness, “I heard of the attack and how General Acacius came to your rescue, what an ordeal! I’m so glad he was there, and please know that you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

“Domina Aurelius, we are very grateful for your hospitality, and for General Acacius' aid, we can’t thank you enough.”

“Domina.”

The low voice was very familiar by now, and a frill of excitement shot through you as you turned to Marcus who had appeared behind Antonia. He bowed low as Antonia stepped back to give him space to greet you. He was out of his armour and wearing a dark green tunic, foregoing the cumbersome toga. His dark curls looked damp and you guessed he’d been to a thermae too, maybe the one in his own villa before returning here. He looked wonderfully informal, you thought, relaxed, as if he’d left the general at home, or with the soldiers, and come only as Marcus.

“General,” you replied, curtsied low to him, catching his smile just as you dropped your gaze to the floor, the perfect image of a deferential lady greeting a celebrated Roman officer. “Thank you again for all your aid and for arranging for us to stay here, we’re very grateful.”

“It has been my pleasure, Domina Lunaris,” he replied, taking your hand and leading you to the table. It was an informal setting, all of you reclining around the same table, even the children were allowed, and you smiled as you watched Gaius bow deeply to Alba as he showed her to her accubitum.

Titus reclined next to you with Antonia to your other side, Marcus was opposite with Alba next to him. You could feel Marcus’ eyes on you from the moment you reclined on the accubitum, warm and smiling, as the servants brought out the food and wine. It took all you had to not look back at him and smile like a fool, instead you raised your glass in toast as Titus formally greeted Alba and you to their family home.

“To new friends and new beginnings,” he smiled at you both. You met Marcus’ eyes over the brim of your glass as you sipped the wine, and he winked back at you with a grin. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, he was clearly giving no care to letting Antonia see his intentions. Already you could sense her curiosity as she took a platter from a servant and offered you the first bites.

She said nothing about Marcus’ behaviour throughout the dinner, instead the conversation flowed easily around the things Marcus and her husband had seen during their latest campaign. The two men shared stories that made you all laugh, the children giggling as Titus gave a very accurate impersonation of a grumpy Marcus at the end of a very wet and muddy march. You glanced over at the usually so stern general, and found him laughing along with the children as his old friend poked fun at him. Seeing him surrounded by the people who must mean most to him, warmed your heart, and as he turned his gaze on you and smiled, you returned his affectionate look.

As dinner wound down, Antonia sent the children to bed, and led you all to a smaller, informal room with comfortable accubita filled with pillows, the floor lined with thick rugs to ward off the cold December night. You sat down on one of the recliners, putting a pillow behind your back, but before you could lay down on your side, Marcus sat down next to you, his hand on the small of your back.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he mumbled, “When the servants have left, I would like to tell Antonia too.”

“I don’t think she’ll be very surprised,” you smiled at him, “we are terrible at hiding our secret.”

Marcus gave a soft laugh and glanced over at Antonia who was speaking to a servant. They left an amphora of wine and cups on a small table, and left, leaving the five of you alone in the room. As she turned to the room and came to sit next to her husband, she raised an eyebrow with a smile as she saw how closely Marcus was sitting to you.

“Something you wish to tell me, Marcus?” she asked, and he chuckled as Titus laughed.

“It could not have been more obvious if Cupid had stood behind you shooting arrows,” he grinned at you both.

You felt Marcus shift next to you, his arm sliding more firmly around your waist, and you looked back at him, not bothering to hide the infatuated smile you knew was spreading across your features.

“Nothing gets past you, Antonia,” he replied, pulling his gaze from you and smiling at her, “It seems Cupid has indeed done me a great favour, and thanks to the protection of the gods and the wit of your husband, I’ve managed to lure her to Rome to be my wife.”

Antonia’s smile widened and she slapped her husband’s shoulder, “You cur! I knew something was brewing and you told me nothing!”

“Don’t blame your husband,” Marcus said, “We do need to be careful and keep our commitment to ourselves until the affairs of Lunaris are settled. But as soon as possible, we’ll make an official announcement and be married.”

“Oh, Marcus, I’m so happy for you!” Antonia rose to her feet and crossed the room, bending down and placing kisses on both his cheeks before she did the same to you, “I’ve wanted love and happiness for you for so many years, I’m so glad you’ve finally found your match.”

“Thank you, Antonia,” you said, “Now you understand even more why I’m so very grateful to you and your husband for letting me stay with you until all is settled.”

“For as long as you wish, dear friend,” Antonia assured you, “We’ll be like sisters, after all, Marcus is my brother in all but name.”

Titus brought forward the cups after that, raising his glass, “Another toast then, to love this time, and to new families.”

You all drank to that, and Marcus placed a warm kiss on your cheek as he put his cup down.

“Amor,” he whispered, “Soon I’ll bring you home, and I vow to be the most loving husband Rome has ever seen, nothing will keep me from your side again.”

When the party finally broke up late at night, you walked with Marcus to his letica while Alba retreated to your rooms, giving you a few moments alone with him. Out of sight from his household guards, he pulled you close by the entrance to Titus’ villa and kissed you deeply.

“I have business to attend to tomorrow, but I will come for dinner tomorrow night again,” he whispered after a long, lingering kiss.

“I’m counting the days until we can sleep in the same bed again, until I can be properly yours,” you said, leaning your cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

“Same, carissime,” he replied, “but know that I’m already yours, you need no law to tell you that. I’ve been yours since the night of Bona Dea,” he tilted your head up with his calloused fingers and kissed you again until you both broke apart, breathless.

“You make me feel like a young man struck dumb by Cupid’s arrows,” he chuckled, “I really should go, my household will wonder why their master returns from a long campaign only to stay out all night again.”

“Until tomorrow, Marcus,” you smiled, pressing a final kiss to his cheek.

The next few weeks fell into a routine, during the days Alba and you would help Antonia with the household, visit her friends and be introduced to her circles of Roman life. In the evenings, almost all of them, Marcus would come for dinner and you would be able to steal a few moments with him alone. You would find a secluded corner of the garden if it was not too cold, he’d wrap his cloak around you as you sat on his lap, cocooned in his warmth. Then you’d let him know if there had been any updates on your husband’s affairs, the slow process to declare you a widow and let you inherit his small fortune. Unsurprisingly your father had tried insisting on you returning to your home town, but you had refused to respond to his letters on that topic.

These quiet moments with Marcus were the best of your whole day. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Alba and Antonia, seeing Marcus’ face as he arrived at the villa and smiled at you, taking his hand in yours and sneaking off, those were the moments that lived in your heart for the hours when he wasn’t around.

When your time together was up and you had to return to the others, your lips were always swollen from his kisses, and the imprints of his hands had left warm marks all over your body. Like guilty, giggling school children, you’d sneak back into the dining room or the reception room, cheeks heating up as Titus’ teased you both.

But then finally came the day you’d been waiting for; the messenger arrived with the documents, stamped with the official mark of your hometown, your husband’s estate was now yours, the assets en route to Rome and you, legally a widow.

You told Marcus as you sat wrapped together under his cloak on one of the garden benches, and he cupped your face between his big hands and kissed you deeply as the cloak slipped off him. When his lips left yours, he leaned his head against your forehead and closed his eyes for a few moments before he pulled back and looked at you.

“Carrisime, I never formally asked you to be my wife, even though you know that I wish for nothing else. But now I can finally honour traditions and give you my ring.”

From the pouch on his belt he took a small package and carefully unwrapped it. The polished gold glimmered in the light as he held it out to you.

“My hand is joined with yours,” he said, as you took the ring and saw the two hands that embellished the ring, “If you’ll have me.” The last thing he said with a mischievous tone and you looked up at him with a smile, he knew there was no doubt in you, you were his as much as he was yours. Without a word you held out the ring to him to put on your finger, the fourth of your left hand, where the vein that ran to your heart began.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you whispered as he slipped it on and he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers.

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius”.

The wedding vows spoken between you in the quiet garden would need to be repeated in front of a priest, with all the ceremony required to legally make you his wife. But as far as Marcus was concerned, he was now your husband. And in the eyes of Rome, the ring on your finger now marked you as his, and he would fight anyone who tried to say otherwise. His lips left your hand and moved to your lips as he pulled the cloak around you both again, wrapping it and his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. The ring felt light on your finger, the cool metal a constant reminder that you had left behind your old life, and could now walk through Rome as Marcus Acacius betrothed.

You were very late for dinner that evening, but the news of your formal status as widow and the new ring on your finger, stole all the attention away from any concerns of cold food and irritated cooks.

The very next day Marcus began to plan for the ceremony and feast that would make you his wife. Tradition held that a widow should wait ten months before marrying again, but since no one here knew you or Lunaris, it was decided that tradition could be ignored Your father was also left out of the planning, he’d controlled the choice of your first husband, you were determined he would have nothing to do with your second marriage.

“It will be just you and me and Titus’ family,” Marcus promised, “We’ll keep the ceremonies so that we don’t anger the gods, but to hell with anyone else.” He’d brought you the knot of Hercules for your wedding day clothes and smiled as you traced your fingers over the decorations in the belt.

“I think I may have untied the knot a bit too early,” he chuckled, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I remember my first wedding night,” you said, and Marcus tightened his arms around your waist at the grim tone of your voice, “I was scared, I’d been told it would hurt, and I was trembling when I lay in bed with him. He untied the knot and told me to take off my tunic and then he just tried to push himself in. I cried and he told me that it proved that I was a virgin.”

“He was a fool,” Marcus said, his tone soothing as he pulled you closer to his chest, his warm body and presence calming you and reminding you that your next wedding night would be very different, “A groom should have experience of the other sex so that he can show his wife how to enjoy married life, it should be a pleasure for both husband and wife.”

“Oh Lunaris wanted it to be a pleasure alright, he would lecture me when he couldn’t get hard, tell me it was my fault. But not once did he think to make me feel pleasure too. I doubt he’d be able to though, that man could barely find the right hole to stick his cock in.”

Marcus chuckled softly behind you, his hand closing around yours, still holding the Hercules’ knot belt.

“Don’t think about him, and don’t think about your first wedding day anymore. This one will only be about us, I want us to have happy memories, and I want you to think about how many times I will make you cry my name in pleasure when I finally get to untie this belt and make you my wife.”

His words filled you with heat, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder as you reached up and cupped his cheek.

“Can we find a secluded spot in this villa for just a few minutes?” you mumbled, pressing your lips to the warm skin of his neck.

“Carissime,” he growled, his voice suddenly low and hungry as his hands tightened on your hips, “you have no idea what a hold you have on me.”

You smiled against his throat and let your tongue taste the pebbled skin, tasting the salt and musk of him as he took a deep breath, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Show me,” you muttered quietly, grazing your teeth over his neck, moving up as far as you could, nipping at the thin skin under his ear. Marcus was gritting his teeth, you could feel it under your lips as you continued to press wet kisses over his throat, his jaw, and you inhaled his warm scent.

He suddenly pulled away from you, taking a few long strides to the door of the room, closing it firmly, and turning the lock.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and desirous, coming back to you and pulling you close again, “Here will do if we’re quiet and quick.”

You nodded and shoved aside the white tunic and belt on the table just as Marcus took hold of your waist and pressed himself against your back.

“How do you want me?” he murmured, his mouth now at your throat, “from behind like the first night, or up on this table like when I showed that fool Lunaris how I make you scream my name?” Marcus’ control was slipping, he could feel his member rapidly growing hard as he grinded against your soft body, his hands pulling you closer as he marked your throat with his teeth. His mind was buzzing, blood flowing in only one direction and it was almost painful how quickly his cock filled. He groaned into your neck again, rutting against your ass like a dog in heat. It had been over a month since he last had you to himself and now he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into your cunt and feel that addictive heat again.

You couldn’t respond, just moan as his hands began to slide under your stola, his mouth hot against your skin. His fingers wasted no time in pushing aside your undergarments, sliding into your wet folds, growling against your neck at finding you so ready for him.

“Marcus…” you pleaded, arching your back and urging him to push deeper in as he curled his fingers and began stroking your insides. He could feel you dripping over him and his cock twitched, pressed up against your soft curves.

“I think you’re ready for me,” he panted, driving his fingers deeper in as you moaned a little bit louder. He swiftly covered your mouth with his other hand, “Quiet, carissime, quiet, my greedy domina,” he chuckled into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. His fingers slipped out of your wet cunt and you gasped under his palm in anticipation as you felt him reach for his cock.

“Lean forward for me,” he mumbled, gently pushing you over the table. The cool air of the room chilled your skin as he lifted your stola over your hips, but the warmth of his hands as he kneaded the flesh of your behind shot new heat through you. Soon you felt the weight of him over your back as he leaned forward and pressed kisses to your shoulders, his hand guiding his cock through your folds, your arousal spreading over him as he groaned above you.

When he breached your tight opening, you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out his name, and Marcus hissed, cursing low under his breath. His fingers dug into your hips as he pushed in, rocking his hips back and forth to slide himself deeper into your tight cunt. He was growling, a low rumble in his chest, and you felt him pull you back onto his cock, filling you all the way up as he bottomed out. His fingers moved between your legs and found the swollen pearl at the apex, circling his thumb around it. Your response made him press himself firmer against your backside, feeling you contract around him as you moaned under his hand. Choking back a groan he increased the pace, driving deep with each thrust, your grip on his cock was hurrying him towards his own finish and he suddenly moved his hand from your mouth to your waist.

“Domina…” he panted against you as he pulled you up, making you arch your back against his chest, “I can’t hold on much longer, let me feel you come with me.”

His fingers were matching the fast rhythm of his hips and the new angle hit a new spot inside you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as your body felt like it was about to combust.

You could only groan in response, reaching back and tugging at the curls at his neck, pulling his mouth yours to stifle your cries. Your legs seemed to lose all control as you came, Marcus' arm holding you up as he continued to caress your clit and drive his cock up into your spasming cunt. He was groaning into your mouth, his hips erratic as he felt his cock release deep into you, thrusting hard, pushing in as he lost all other thoughts, only your mouth against his and the wet, tight heat of your cunt filled his mind.

You seemed to come back to your senses faster than Marcus, your legs finding their strength again even though they felt unsteady. Marcus still had a firm grip on your body, his hand slipped from your wet folds to hold onto your hip. He rested his head against your shoulder, taking deep breaths as he drove his softening cock in and out of your cunt a few more times to milk it all out. With a long, shuddering exhale he finally stilled his movements and released his tight grip.

“Are you still with me, old man?” you teased him lightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hush, domina,” he chuckled, “don’t mock your ageing soon-to-be husband, you will need to take care of me when I can’t fuck you like this anymore.”

You giggled as he swatted your behind and kissed him again. He gave a satisfied grumble as he pulled you tight against him.

“We should probably clean up and be seen in public soon,” you said, “before we raise even more suspicions.” You could feel him dripping out of you as his soft cock slipped out, and he nodded against your back.

“I can’t wait to have you in my own villa, no one else around, send away the servants, lock the doors, and then we can do this all day,” he said, “I’m making good on my promise from when we first met, when I’m your husband I’m keeping you in my bed, day and night,” he pulled down your stola and smoothed it out, squeezing your behind at the same time, “I do believe you called me your magnus concubinus, I have every intention of living up to that title.

There was a sudden knock on the door, just as you pulled him in to kiss the wicked smile he’d given you, and you had to end it far too soon.

“Only a few more days,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek instead, before you went to answer the door.

Tagging some lovely people who showered the first three parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0

#marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus acacius x you

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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January 24th, 76AD, is said to be the likely date of birth forPublius Aelius Hadrianus, who built Hadrian’s Wall.

When the Romans invaded the British Isles they held, large parts of what is now Scotland, even after the construction of Hadrian’s Wall in AD 122, there were large forts around the country at varioustimes, the largest of which was Trimontium located at Newstead, near Melrose, in the Scottish Borders. It was occupied intermittently from about 79 to 184 AD and was the largest of the "outpost" forts after the construction of Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian’s Wall was largely abandoned for about twenty years from .AD 138, when the Romans established a new frontier in Scotland between what are now the Firths of Forth and Clyde, where they built the Antonine Wall.

The Antonine Wall was more of a very large ditch, and my old flat would have been part of the structure, part of the "wall" is on land only yards from me. I got into trouble for calling it a ditch from a Roman historian before, so will add that it was much more, the thing is it more or less looks like one just now, much of the fortifications are long gone.

Hadrian is noted for his interest in architecture and the number of provinces he visited whilst Emperor. He is likely to have visited Britain in AD 122, after some kind of conflict in the preceding years, and we know that it was in this period that construction of the Wall started. It has also been known as Picts' Wall, or Vallum Hadriani in Latin.

The origin of the Picts is clouded by the many fables and legends about them. There are numerous theories as to who the Picts were and where they came from. Experts even disagree over what they ate and drank and what language they spoke although some point to the existence of a distinct Pictish language, which today is believed to have been an Insular Celtic language, closely related to the Brittonic spoken by the Britons who lived to the south.

Often described as savages the Picts were an ancient and artistic people who defied the might of Rome which conquered the rest of Britain. They were a sophisticated , hardworking, clever people, skilled in farming and fishing.

You would have thought a savage tribe would have been an easy conquest for the Romans, but the Picts were anything but that. Picts are first recorded in history in the third century AD. Eumenius, a Roman writer, describes the "pictus" as fierce and skilled in battle. It is not clear whether "pictus" (the Latin for painted) was intended, or if this is a Latin form of some indigenous name. I prefer to think of them as the "Painted People"

Although the Romans reached Scotland and often defeated them in battle, they never conquered the Picts or Pictland. The Roman Empire's expeditions north resulted in few permanent gains.

Scotland's sculptured stones, created by the Picts of ancient Alba tell the stories of a race of people who defied Rome and survived the invading Vikings, thus preserving a separate culture and race in Scotland. It is in these sometimes mighty, sometimes delicate stones that the history of ancient Scotland is now recorded.

There are many of these slabs on display in The National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh, as well as a fine display in The Hunterian in Glasgow.

When the Romans left the Picts were often attacked by the Britons and eventually all the Pictish tribes agreed to support one High King who would rule all of Pictland.

It's said the Picts, unusually, were a matrilineal society, i.e. bloodlines passed through the mother. Pictish kings were not succeeded by their sons, but by brothers, nephews or cousins as traced by the female line in a complicated series of intermarriages between 7 royal houses. It is this rare form of succession which in 845 AD gave the crown of Alba and the title Rex Pictorum - King of the Picts - to the son of a Pictish princess by the name of Kenneth, Son of Alpin, he is generally accepted by most historians as the first of the kings of Scotland, follwing on from his reign as King of Dál Riata. As usual though, not al agree on this.

The Picts survived as a distinct people until early in the 10th century. However, there is no record of them dying out or moving elsewhere. It is most likely that the Picts simply integrated into the large population within the developing multi-ethnic nation of Scotti, Picts, Celts, Britons and Angles which we now call Scotland. The map, from wiki says this was how their lands looked as late as the 7th century. The last pics are of two Pictish people and a 15th century depiction of King Kenneth.

#scotland #scottish #history #caledonia #picts #pictish #romans #wall #northumbria

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artemlegere · 4 months ago

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The Death of Dante

Artist: Eugenio Moretti Larese (Italian, 1823-1874)

Date: 1852-1853

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Luigi Bailo Museum, Treviso, Italy

The Death of Dante Alighieri 14th September 1321

“Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them, there is no third.” So said T.S. Eliot. Dante is undoubtedly one of the finest writers that ever walked the earth but it is the afterlife for which he is better known. His work “The Divine Comedy” is a classic of literature. It is an allegory about his walk through the three stages of the Christian afterlife – Hell, Purgatory and Heaven. It is written in the first person as a warning to politicians and others about corruption, set in 1300 and written in vernacular Italian rather than what was more usual at the time - Greek or Latin.

Born in Florence in 1265 to low aristocratic parents, but not wealthy ones, Durante, as he was fully called (Dante is a nickname) lost his mother when he was two. At school he was taught rhetoric, grammar, philosophy, literature and theology. He went on to study Tuscan poetry, painting and music. He was particularly struck with Homer, Virgil and Cicero. By the age of 12 his marriage was arranged to Gemma di Manetto Donati and they were to have three, possibly four, children, it is not known for certain. Dante though had already fallen in love with a girl called Beatrice Portinari. He claimed that this was love at first sight but was to remain unrequited; a courtly love. Beatrice died in 1290 and Dante never fully got over it. After her death he wrote a poem entitled “La Vita Nouvo” or the New Life. Also written in Italian this spoke of courtly love which Dante saw as the ideal and he centred his work not on himself but on his interpretation of love.

Dante worked his way up through the political system and became a Priore, which was a little like a governor. However, as usual in Italian cities, and Florence in particular, there were a lot of political machinations. There were two distinct groups fighting for power – the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. Dante was on the side of the former who won this particular struggle. However the Guelphs were to split between the White Guelphs and the Black Guelphs. Again Dante was on the side of the former who took control. They were more sceptical of the motives of the Pope, Boniface VIII, and went to Rome to seek out his intentions. Whilst they were there the Black Guelphs seized Florence and destroyed much of it. Dante was never to return to his own City. He was banned for life.

Much of the writing for the Divine Comedy was undertaken in Ravenna. The work tells of his own path to salvation and offers moral and philosophical judgements along the way. Each of the three sections, Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio) and Heaven (Paradiso) has nine further subsections with a tenth as a top, final stage. In Hell this is where Lucifer himself dwells. In this section Satan is up to his waist in ice and chewing on the three greatest sinners - Judas, Brutus and Cassius. The ninth stage is reserved for treacherous people who are buried up to their necks in the same ice. On his journey Dante speaks to various sinners at different levels.

In his journeys through Hell and Purgatory his guide is the Roman poet, Virgil. Once inside Purgatorio he climbs the Mount of Purgatory that has the first seven levels (One for each of the seven deadly sins). Eventually he reaches the top level, the Garden of Eden, where he must learn to reject earthly paradise for the heavenly one that awaits.

At this stage Virgil leaves him and the love of his life Beatrice takes him through the final stage of Heaven, or Paradiso. On his way up he meets Thomas Aquinas and King Solomon before reaching the top level symbolised by three rings for the Holy Trinity - The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit - where he meets God himself.

Dante died in 1321 and was buried in Ravenna. Florence regretted exiling one of the finest and foremost writers of any generation and asked for his body to be returned. Officials in Ravenna refused and were so worried that his remains might be stolen they hid them between the walls of a monastery. Nevertheless Florence had a tomb built for him in 1829 in the basilica of Santa Croce and it remains empty to this day. The words on it read: “Onorate l'altissimo poeta” which translate as, honour the most exalted poet.

Many of Dante’s phrases are household expressions today. “The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis.” “The secret of getting things done is to act” and “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

One of the most telling quotes, I believe, is “Consider your origins. You were not made to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.” Perhaps this is a message that is as relevant to world leaders today as it was to those in the fourteenth century.

Biography

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wisteria-lodge · 1 year ago

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Assorted historical notes for the first chapter of my jedtavius fic (happy pride everybody...)

~ Romans took their public baths extremely seriously, and setting one up would be high priority for a garrison stationed out in the territories (basically the situation in these movies?) Nudity in the context of baths was just normal.

~ For some reason, Octavius wears his cape slung across his chest

instead of pinned to his shoulder(s) like a Roman cape.

If anything, this seems to be riffing on the 1600s half-cape, which is often strung cross-body like that in a sort of Renaissance *costume.*

Note: these are both modern historical costumes. It seems in the actual 1600s it was more normal to just sort of balance your capelet on one arm, or wear it over both shoulders (like when you wear a big coat without putting your arms through the sleeves.)

1600s capes are especially annoying to study, because basically all of them were tailored into 1700s coats, but WHATEVER.

(diegetically, since Octavius the tiny Roman lives in a museum, I guess he could be influenced by the 1600s cape costume, and just decide to wear his cape like that.)

~ “Sinister” is just Latin for “on the left side.” Couldn’t resist a latin joke, especially since Owen Wilson (and therefore Jed) is left-handed.

~ Roman orgies and sex parties were not really all that common. Like sure, they're brought up in the context of Caligula, Nero, Tiberus - the classics. But, your Roman writers historians and archivists were extremely political, and when you hear about this stuff there is always a political motive behind it, and almost certainly some exaggeration. Roman writers loved their gossip.

However, as a literary trope 'the Roman orgy' is extremely important. Most people in the buttoned-up 1800s saw Rome as this fascinating but immoral free-for-all, and we haven't totally shaken that off. And since Octavius is written as a slightly comic version of our current cultural idea of ‘Roman’... orgies are absolutely part of that.

(It’s the same reason I threw in the two-handed ‘Roman Handshake,’ even though as far as I can figure out, it was invented for a production of Julius Caesar in 1898. Romans seemed to just - shake hands.)

~ One of the interesting thing about the The Night at the Museum franchise is its interest in exploring the 21st century Idea of a Roman, the Idea of a Cowboy, the Idea of Theodore Roosevelt (even more than the historical reality.) It's a plot point that Museum Exhibit!Teddy knows that he's not Teddy Roosevelt, and kind of struggles with the symbolic importance people give to him. Octavius is very much a Movie!Roman, not a History!Roman. Even the fact that he's played by a British actor with a very British accent makes him seem like a background Roman General in Ben-Hur, here to deliver a letter, say "Yes sir, the rebels have returned from the provinces with new allies," and then die half an hour from the end to raise the stakes.

The exception to this is Ahkmenrah, who as a mummy that comes to life, is not a museum exhibit, he's just A Guy and *that's* the joke. He's not engaging with, or symbolic of 21st century tropes and stereotypes surrounding the idea of "pharaoh." He's just a person doing his own thing. Compare this to Kahmunrah from the sequel, who IS both a pharaoh and an exhibit come to life. So of course he's all about the literary tropes historically attached to the linked ideas "pharaoh, desert, villain." He's sadistic, he's camp, he's super queer coded, he's got a lisp, and he's putting our hero in a hour-glass death trap just like Jafar.

#night at the museum #my fic #spa day #jedtavius #Ahkmenrah #Kahmunrah #natm meta #natm octavius #history stuff #fashion history #costuming stuff #literary analysis

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shoegazingmonad · 3 months ago

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Just been going through all of the artist + author commentary again and whilst I was musing on what the coloured dream bubbles represented (kindly noted to be Violet, Maroon and Sea foam by Haven)

They go ahead and say this:

And they make a joke about it again on the commentary for their first appearance.

There's been foreshadowing for the Deltritus kids so far back as March 2024, and I somehow skimmed over it without noticing...

6 Flowers for 6 kids. There's proof for this in the window design of the sbahj joke from November's writer commentary too as @nolonger100daysoftavvyfanart pointed out.

So - it looks like we've got 3 of Rose's species, as indicated by the colours names, Violet, Sea foam and Maroon (which as a verb means to be put ashore on a desolate island or coast) and the dream bubbles which we know to be created by Horrorterrors. This heavily suggests that GC isn't a satyr.

To the side there are 3 more flowers; blue / grey, purple, and green / yellow. These are likely to be Dirk's species.

There's also some bubbles here, though I'm not sure whether these are linked to the flowers or not, since they don't match up all that well. They look a lot like Rose and Terezi's colours if anything.

As for the flowers themselves, it's pretty hard to tell due to how simplistic they are, and all of the below are well-researched guesses. The flowers I was more sure of fell into the category of birth flowers, too, which a lot of flower symbolism sites claim is a tradition carried on from Ancient Rome, which Deltritus is looking to take inspiration from. I'm assuming that they might fit into that somehow, since there's not that many flowers with mythology that perfectly resemble them but I'm not gonna strictly adhere to it.

but anyway, from left to right here's what I've got.

1st (GC's):

Violet (perhaps coastal or arrowhead?) - (sapphic) love, honesty, protection and dreams. Cognate with 'iodine', a contact explosive that releases a purple cloud of vapor when detonated, as they share origin from the Greek word iōeidēs "violet-colored".

Mentioned a few times in Sappho's poems, one about a lost love "Close by my side you put around yourself [many wreaths] of violets and roses.", in another one she describes her as wearing "violet tiaras, braided rosebuds, dill and crocus twined around". A poem between her and Alcaeus (another poet from Lesbos) has him describe Sappho as "violet-weaving". It's also one of the February birth flowers.

Purple Lilac - first love, new beginnings / rebirth (regardless of colour), genus name 'Syringa' comes from the greek word 'Syrinx' meaning pipe or tube, calling back to the 'gavage' (force-feeding) in their chumhandle. Syrinx was also the name of a nymph in greek mythology, who 'had many times attracted the attention of satyrs' and was known for chastity.

2nd:

Poppy - eternal sleep, peace, sacrifice, honour and remembrance. The sleep association usually comes from it's link to opium, a sedative. They can also rebloom after long periods of staying dormant, linking them with rebirth. They're also mentioned in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in reference to this fact, as there's a poppy field that can make the characters sleep forever. The name might be imitative of the latin word "pap-" "to swell", or even "pappa" - "milk", as their sap resembles it. It is one of the August birth flowers.

It's associated with Morpheus, God of sleep, Demeter, God of harvest, agriculture, fertility, and sacred law, Venus Goddess of love, sex and fertility - just a handful of them. Demeter created the flower to bring her sleep so she could forget her grief after Hades abducted Persephone, and ancient Greeks offered poppy seeds in their rites to Ceres to ensure a bountiful corn harvest. There was a tradition of putting a poppy petal in the left palm and striking the petal with their right hand to determine faithfulness. If I pasted all of the relations it has to gods this would be way longer than necessary so besides that briefing you can find out all about that here.

Anemone - forsaken sickness, brevity, withered hopes, anticipation. From Greek anemonē "wind flower," literally "daughter of the wind," as anemos "wind" + one feminine patronymic suffix.

Before talking about the details I just want to mention that on the panel there isn't the white ring around the center that anemones usually have - which you'd think would be necessary as it's a very defining part of the flower even though there are some without it. I believe this was to avoid muddling it with the grey on the fourth blue flower, which based on the colours of the other flowers, represents Calliope. Despite including the poppy here too I'm more sure it's an anemone, as the mythology is a little more specific, the drawing just throws me off a little. Okay back to the interesting part.

As Wikipedia so kindly puts it:

The Metamorphoses of Ovid says that the plant was created by the goddess Aphrodite when she sprinkled nectar on the blood of her dead lover Adonis, suggesting the frailty of the petals that can be easily blown away by the wind. "Anemone" may also refer to Nea'man, the Phoenician name for Adonis, from an earlier Syrian myth of the god of vegetation, who was killed by the tusks of a wild boar. The common name windflower is used for the entire genus.

3rd:

Peony (probably Wild Peony, as it's native in Greece and looks similar) - bashfullness, compassion, good luck, prosperity, a happy marriage. From Greek paionia (fem. of paionios), may be from Paiōn, name of the physician of the gods (likely Apollo in this case). Probably named from paean "hymn of praise, song of triumph;" due to the plant's healing qualities. Prefers cool climates and can last up to a hundred years (depending on the conditions). The roots of wild peonies were ground to a powder and used to treat colds and sore throats. It is one of the November birth flowers, and is often a flower given during a twelth wedding anniversary.

Mischievous nymphs were said to hide in the petals of the peony, giving it the meaning of shame or bashfulness.

Some site talks about "a nymph called Paeonia, who was so attractive that Apollo, son of Zeus, fell in love with her. This irked Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and love, who became jealous. She turned Paeonia into a flower." and "In one of the myths, the peony got its name from Paeon, the physician to the Greek gods. He was the apprentice of Asclepius who is the god of healing and medicine. Paeon is believed to have discovered a root that could help relieve the pain of childbirth. His master, jealous that Paeon would soon eclipse his popularity, vowed to kill him. Zeus turned Paeon into a peony flower to save him from certain death." though I can't find where either of these came from.

Myrtle - glory, home, honor, a bloodless victory. Another flower associated with Aphrodite, who's name Hesiod derives from aphrós "sea-foam".

Thanking Wikipedia again for not making me scavenge a bunch of vague flower websites:

Two myths are connected to the myrtle; in the first, Myrsine was a chaste girl beloved by Athena who outdid all the other athletes, so they murdered her in retaliation. Athena turned her into a myrtle, which became sacred to her. In the second, Myrina was a dedicated priestess of Aphrodite who was either abducted to be married or willingly wished to entered marriage in spite of her vows. In any case, Aphrodite turned her into myrtle, and gave it fragrant smell, as her favourite plant.

In Rome, Virgil explains that "the poplar is most dear to Alcides, the vine to Bacchus, the myrtle to lovely Venus, and his own laurel to Phoebus." At the Veneralia, women bathed wearing crowns woven of myrtle branches, and myrtle was used in wedding rituals. In the Aeneid, myrtle marks the grave of the murdered Polydorus in Thrace. Aeneas' attempts to uproot the shrub cause the ground to bleed, and the voice of the dead Polydorus warns him to leave. The spears which impaled Polydorus have been magically transformed into the myrtle which marks his grave.

4th:

Delphinium - flight of fancy, happiness, reaching for your goals, attracting new opportunities. Also known as Lark's spur or Knight's spur. Comes from the Greek word for dolphin (delphis), similar to the word for womb (delphys). Some sites say it's associated with Apollo as a delphinium sprung from Ajax's blood, and also because Delphi is the site of Apollo's temple. Mythologically the city name comes from Delphyne, a she-serpent who was the foster mother of Typhon. They're poisonous to humans and livestock, and peasants used to carry them to protect themselves against Scorpion stings. It is one of the July birth flowers.

Returning to the topic of dolphins, there's a lot of myths about those too. Mentions here they were associated with Poseidon; which sounds a little irrelevant but apparently he was the God of horses? Which suddenly makes it feel pretty relevant.

The cool dolphin site says "In one myth about Poseidon, dolphin messengers were sent to bring him a nymph he loved, who he later married. As a reward, he set the dolphin in the sky as a constellation." and "Once, some pirates captured the god Bacchus or Dionysus who confused him with a Prince, with the intention to ask for ransom. Dionysus raged and turned the ship’s oars into snakes, which frightened the pirates and made them jump into the sea. However, the god had mercy on them and decided to turn them into dolphins so that from then on they would help men."

5th:

Purple Rose - allure, respect, mystery, wealth and royalty. Associated with Aphrodite. In the Iliad, Aphrodite protects the body of Hector using the "immortal oil of the rose" and the archaic Greek lyric poet Ibycus praises a beautiful youth saying that Aphrodite nursed him "among rose blossoms". There's also an account of a sanctuary to the Charites (three sisters who attended to Aphrodite) made of wood, showing them holding a rose, a die (huh...) and a branch of myrtle. It is one of the June birth flowers.

6th:

Primrose (Evening Primrose or Water Primrose, though despite the name they aren't actually closely related) - inconstancy, friendship and good will. From Medieval Latin prima rosa - "first rose". Apparently there's an English superstition that if you bring any home it has to be 13, and that any more or less brings bad luck. It is one of the February birth flowers.

In Greek mythology, the primrose was linked to the goddess Persephone. According to the myth, when Persephone was abducted by Hades, her mother Demeter plunged the world into darkness and despair. However, when Persephone was allowed to return to the surface, Demeter’s joy brought forth the blooming of primroses, signaling the return of spring and the revival of nature.

Wood Poppy? which would entail all the same symbolism I previously mentioned but with the added meanings of weath and success.

This took about 4 days for me to conclude so I'm praying on the downfall of whoever decided to make these so abstract and style accurate.

Onto other details now; the flowers (which I brought up earlier) also have the colours of Roxy, Calliope, Kanaya and Jade on them. GC's has Roxy's colour on it, the sea foam one has Kanaya's, the blue one has Calliope's and the green / yellow one has Jade's.

As of now this could really mean anything - maybe it's to show which are gonna be the omega kid's patron... things as one of them is GC's, or maybe it's classpect related. There's a chance it's ideological too as they say this-

-in the artist's commentary, but there's still no evidence for that as of now.

We'll probably get to see these kids next month since Candy's just had it's big important plot climax and this update came out in March. Looking forward to seeing these little freaks of nature...

#Okay back to stuff that's actually fun to research and analyse. And not just 24/7 flower research #Do with all of this information what you please #homestuck 2 #hs:bc #gavagecunctation #deltritus kids #ramblings #Serious HS Stuff

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mals-writing-corner · 6 months ago

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Cw: Roman Slavery, MCD

"Youth" did not mean a child in ancient Rome. It was a younger man who was very feminine. A femboy, if you will. It could be considered a third gender that only young men could have. But it did not mean underage.

This is inspired by the emperor Hadrian who made his dead lover into a god.

Special thank you to some amazing people who helped me out! Wolf and Ajax in the Ghoap Discord, and @paranoidpandora here on Tumblr! These three and I had a super fun brainstorming session, and after talking with my good good friend @irate-iguana , I came up with this idea. I may not make this into something bigger, but who knows 🤔

Roman emperor Soap who has been ruling for a long while. He's no longer in youth, his beard making sure of that. His skin is darker, more weathered. But, even as he's now left his youth, he doesn't have a youth yet. Even as his advisors try and push some onto him, he doesn't have one.

That is, until an outsider, the Ghost, is dragged into town. He was found on the outskirts, murdering traveling Romans. He was to be put to death. But he was the most beautiful youth Soap had ever seen. So he decides to take him as his slave. But his advisors will *not* let him anywhere near the emperor. So, Soap keeps him as his slave, owns him, but makes him fight in the collesseum. He watches, every fight. He's *terrified* that the Ghost is going to die, he's going to get killed by one of the beasts they throw in there, animal or human. But every time, he rises above. It seems, though, that the collesseum tempers his anger. He becomes more calculating as he continues to fight. So, Soap employs him to his praetorian guard, his personal bodyguard as it were. And, having fought in the arena, Ghost now knows Latin. He and Soap end up talking to each other, and eventually, Soap announces that Ghost, even with the scars of the arena, shall be his youth, because he's as beautiful as a youth. He doesn't know how old he is. Ghost won't say, maybe doesn't even know himself, but he's more beautiful than all the youths in Rome. They start a sexual relationship. In private, Soap is the bottom, the submissive, but in public, he carts Ghost around like his *lover* is the submissive one. Because youths could only be submissive. But Ghost is also good at his job. There have been several assassination attempts already, and Ghost has thwarted all of them. This only serves to make Ghost even *more* popular. But it also means his guard goes down more. And another assassination attempt goes through. And for his efforts, Ghost gets a dagger in the back. Soap uses that same dagger to slay his would be assassin, but it's too late for Ghost. He's dying. In his final moments, Soap frees him from his bonds of servitude, so that he may have a hero's death. Soap mourns his lover. He commissions statues in his honor, depicting him with the beauty of Venus, and the strength of Mars. He prays, every night, that his lover might return to him. One night, as he's laying across the marbled feet of his lover, he feels a cold hand touch his back. He looks up, and sees his lover, carved from marble, leaning down towards him. He explains that he was the child of Venus and Mars, and that Vulcan, his mother's husband, was jealous of him, of the attention he got from his mother, to a child who wasn't his. So he cast Ghost from Olympus, taking his memories, and his godly powers, but his youthful beauty could not be taken. Now, Venus and Mars see how loved their son is, and have brought him back as a statue, with Vulcan's blessing, but only for a moment, to give Soap the choice.

Continue living, or join him.

Soap doesn't even choose, he gets up into the pedestal and kisses his lover, holding him close as they turn to pure white marble. They would henceforth be known as the emperor, and his lover.||

#ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish #ancient rome #i play with history #my writing

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seven-seas-of-rhye-bread · 5 months ago

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A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 4

okayyyy we got a sad and angsty one here, be forewarned!

Warning: sad stuff, death, longing... angsty shit

Disclaimer: I am but a dumb bitch who knows nothing. Also this will be playing fast and loose with canon events going forward.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Weee, enjoy

The fading sun cast shadows in the kitchen of Lucilla and Marcus's home as Aia bent low and carefully stoked the oven fires with more wood. It had been 3 days since Aia joined the household, and though she had been brought under the guise of a companion for Lucilla, she preferred to stay busy, especially helping the cook, Horatia, in the kitchen.

Lucilla appeared in the doorway, looking beautiful as ever in a flowing stola, "Albina, may I borrow you for a moment?"

Aia followed her out of the kitchen and down to the courtyard, where Marcus waited in a corner. Lucilla checked their surroundings, ensuring no other servants were around. "Aia, we'll need you to accompany us to the Colosseum tomorrow." Aia knew there were games arranged in honor of Marcus's conquests, but why would she need to go? She didn't find the appeal in watching men kill each other for sport. Yes, she was supposed to be a companion for Lucilla, but in the absence of Marcus, who would certainly be at the games with her.

"Why would I need to go?" she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

Lucilla and Marcus exchanged a look before he explained, "when Geta sold you to me, he made a stipulation that I would have to bring you to whatever games and celebrations I go to..."

"If he was happy to be rid of me, then why does he want me around?"

Marcus sighed in frustration, " he said that you have to come... in case-- as he said-- he wanted another... 'taste'"

Aia stood in stunned silence, feeling heat rise to her cheeks and embarrassment wash over her.

"Oh." was all she could muster.

Lucilla took Aia's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "we'll do anything to keep that from happening... and I think, at least for the games, he'll be too distracted by his blood lust to notice you." Aia nodded, resigned to the fact that she would have to face Geta again. She had only been with Lucilla and Marcus for a few days, but she already trusted them-- trusted that they would protect her in every way they could.

Later that evening, long after the household had gone to bed, Aia still laid awake in her small room, thinking about tomorrow. She hoped Lucilla was right, that Geta would be enthralled by the fighting, and it wasn't hard to imagine him being rapt by the games.

She got out of bed, putting on her simple robe and wandered out of her room. Aia had intended to get a drink of water, or perhaps something stronger, to help her sleep, but as she passed by the library, she saw firelight stretch from beneath the door across the tiled floor.

She peaked around the door out of curiosity and saw Marcus, browsing through scrolls that lined one of the shelves that covered the entire room.

Aia was about to leave him be, but he had caught a glimpse of her and said, quietly, " you can come in..."

She stepped into the room gingerly, closing the door behind her. She had caught a glimpse of the large library when she first came here, but never dared to venture in, though Lucilla never forbade her.

"Do you know how to read?" Marcus inquired, leaning back against a shelf, facing her.

She shook her head, " a little.. but not Latin.. I doubt I could read anything in here."

"Marcus Aurelius-- Lucilla's father- was an avid reader, and writer. Most of these books belonged to him. He wrote some, too."

"Was he any good?" she asked with a hint of cheek.

Marcus smiled, " yes, he was, actually. He wrote of a free, equal Rome."

"Ah, so even the Gauls would be treated with respect?"

"Even Gauls.." he confirmed with a wiry smile.

Marcus observed Aia as she lightly touched a scroll, feeling the thin, fragile paper between her fingers, "Do you miss it? Gaul, I mean..."

Aia stepped forward to him, still running her hands along the scrolls, liking the feel of them on her fingers-- she had so rarely touched parchment.

She answered his question with her own, "don't you miss your home when you're off campaigning?"

He nodded, " I do. I'm sorry you were taken, I'm sorry that you had to.." he cleared his throat, "endure Geta..."

She burned at the memory, the helplessness she felt in the palace--how she wished for a swift death.

"It's over now." Aia said singularly, all she cared to say about that situation, "and I have you to thank for that."

She had still found it hard to comprehend that Marcus would do such a thing as asking Geta for her, after Aia had only spoken to him briefly that night. What Aia didn't know was that Marcus had been enamored by her beauty and her strength of will that night. The thought that Geta had had his way with her made him sick to his stomach. And the fact that Geta had hinted that he could want her again, made him even sicker, and more desperate to dethrone the twins.

"And Lucilla..." Marcus added.

"She's a great woman, isn't she?"

Marcus nodded, "she's beloved by all of Rome, including me... but she's never been mine, really."

Aia tilted her head, confused by what Marcus had just said, "but you're married?"

"We are-- but her heart had always belonged to another. Ours is a marriage of convenience--we do love each other, but we are only companions."

Aia wasn't sure what to say, she felt bad for Marcus-- a handsome man who seemed weary of war, to never be wed for love?

"Are you married?" he asked finally, after a moment of silence between them.

"I am... or, I was. I don't know anymore. He was a good man, though I hadn't been with him long before..."

"Was?" Marcus asked, moving closer to her-- he wished he could ask her all about her life in Gaul, he would soak up every detail she gave him, hang on her every word.

"I don't know if I'll ever see him again... "

"I'm sorry, Albina, I shouldn't pry."

Aia gave him a gentle smile, "it's alright.. I should get back to bed though, long day tomorrow..."

She turned to leave, but Marcus caught her arm in his gentle but calloused grasp, "please know that I'd sooner kill Geta than let him have you again..."

His grip was warm on her arm, his thumb gently caressing the soft, smooth skin. She looked at Marcus, her heart aching oddly and suddenly-- reminded of the love of her husband, and his willingness to protect her at all cost.

Aia gave him a small smile as his hand fell from her arm, " I know you would." _____________

The next day was unbearably hot in Rome. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, beating down mercilessly, not a cloud in sight as Marcus, Lucilla and Aia made their way into the colosseum.

The stench of half of Rome crammed into one place was almost unbearable, Aia could understand why Lucilla chose to carry around lavender.

Aia felt sick with nerves as they made their way to the Emperors' cubiculum. She was reassured by Marcus's words last night, that he would kill Geta before he could ever get his hands on her again, but the thought of even seeing him made her stomach churn.

Aia hung back behind both Marcus and Lucilla as the emperors entered the Imperial box ahead of them. They were sickening gleeful, giddy as children to watch men be slaughtered for their entertainment.

As Lucilla and Marcus made their way to the box, Aia hesitated, her feet feeling heavy as led in the new sandals Lucilla had provided her. Lucilla noticed Aia's absence and grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs.

She felt breathless as the arena and stands full of Romans came into view. She had never seen somewhere so grand in size, it was overwhelming. Sitting behind Lucilla's chair, she observied both the crowd and the emperors. As Geta invited a reluctant Marcus to address the people, Aia caught his eye. He gave her a wicked grin and nodded, to which she averted her gaze, looking down into her lap at her trembling hands.

The games began in short order, with a raucous cheer from the stands as the gladiators entered the arena, followed by another gladiator atop a rhinoceros.

Aia closed her eyes tight, not wanting to see the bloodshed, but she could unfortunately hear it loud and clear, along with the continued cheering. She prayed to the Gods that it would be over swiftly, but as she prayed she heard her name called by none other than Geta.

Her eyes sprang open to see him beckoning her. Marcus and Lucilla watched with concern as Aia made her way down to his throne, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Geta pulled her onto his knee and gave her a kiss, "don't close your eyes! You're missing all the glory! All the blood too!"

He grasped her face and turned it toward the arena, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks. He watched her face, and shouted for her to look, keeping his eyes on her, making sure Aia was a witness to the carnage.

Her eyes filled with tears as she observed the bloody gravel and the mangled bodies strewn across the ground. She started to cry, and Geta yelled at her to keep her eyes open.

It was then, as she opened up her eyes again, that her eyes trained on a particular gladiator, she knew his face in an instant-- her husband's brother, Manus.

She gasped at the realization, but luckily Geta didn't note what she was gasping for, thinking it was at one gladiator decapitating another, ending the battle then and there.

The crowd cheered once more, the final death bringing everyone to their feet, including the emperors.

Aia took this moment to move back towards Lucilla and Marcus while Geta was distracted. Marcus noticed the concerned look on Aia's face, still unbelieving of who she saw.

"Whats wrong? Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice lowering with anger.

Aia shook her head, " I know one of the gladiators..." she turned to Lucillla, "please, is there any way I can go down there? Speak to him?"

Marcus agreed to take Aia down to where the gladiators were taken, while Lucilla went home. She had noticed a change in demeanor with Lucilla, a sort of dazed look in her eyes, her face pale as if she had just seen a ghost. But right now Aia was focused on the ghost she had seen herself, and her heart beat wildly as they made their way down to the cells.

"What is his name?" Marcus asked as they approached the gate.

"Manus" she whispered.

After Marcus talked to the guards, one of them led them down the dark and dingy way. She instinctively got closer to Marcus, finding a sense of safety in presence among the men as they made their way through the noisy and crowded halls that smelled of the copper tang of blood and sweat.

"Manus!" the guard shouted towards a group of men who were removing their armor.

She saw him turn around, his face battered and bruised, blood trickling from a long cut above his eye-- but she was sure it was him.

"Aia!" Manus shouted as he made his way over, his eyes wide in disbelief, "thank Gods you're alive! What are you doing here?"

Aia wasn't sure how to answer, "I work in a household here in Rome... when did you get captured?"

Marcus stepped aside, but still in safe reach of Aia, not wanting to intrude on what was surely a personal conversation.

"About a fortnight after you were taken... we went out after you."

"We?" Aia asked, her stomach in knots.

"Me, Dago... some others too."

Her voice caught in her throat, " is he here? Was he killed?"

She moved towards the crowd of gladiators, looking desperately at the faces. She hadn't even considered that Dago might be with Manus, and her heart wrenched to think he had been killed in front of her.

Tears began to fall as she searched the crowd, but Manus pulled her back to the side.

"Aia.." Manus said, taking her hands. "What Manus... what? You tell me right now is he--" her voice faltered again, unable to say the last word. Manus remained silent, his eyes cast down.

"You tell me now! Say it!" she shouted, drawing attention as she pushed Manus, a man of considerable size.

He spoke finally, his voice full of sadness and regret, "He is dead, Aia-- he's dead."

She leaned against Manus as she began to cry in earnest. Deep down, she felt that she had known already, that she had felt the shift in the world now that he was no longer a part of it. She also felt completely and utterly responsible for both Dago's death and Manus's capitivity. And, when she thought about it-- Manus' likely death in the colosseum.

She felt a strong and reassuring arm around her, Marcus was holding her up, whispering in her ear that he was going to take her home.

She promised Manus that she would see him again-- hoping that perhaps Marcus and Lucilla would be able to free him with their impending plans. A carriage took them home in silence, a sense of numbness settling over her.

Marcus hugged her to him but he did not offer any words of solace, for he knew that they would ring hollow, he said only, "I'm sorry," and left it at that.

Tagging: @mmkkzz @galway-girlatwork @bridgertonbee1814 @quuinyoung @helsa3942

#gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladiator ii #fanfiction #lucius verus #emperor geta #marcus acacius

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themoonplantwrites · 8 months ago

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So I want to talk about some of the implied elements of the culture that exists in New Rome and Camp Jupiter for a second.

So one of the things we are introduced to about Camp Jupiter and New Rome pretty quickly in The Son of Neptune is that there is a pretty influential anti-Greek/Hellenic bias. There’s more extreme examples, like Octavian, but then there’s the more, I guess average version too. Like I think we all can agree that Frank is pretty accepting of the Greeks and Camp Half-blood and everything, and yet when he is guiding Percy around Camp Jupiter explaining everything to him, even Frank still refers to the Romans as an “improved” version of the Greeks. Like there is just this kinda vibe of “the Greeks suck, especially when compared to us” that exists in the modern Roman culture of Camp Jupiter and New Rome.

One of the other things we are introduced to pretty quickly is that they only learn Latin at Camp Jupiter. Like there is never any implication that Camp Jupiter teaches the Romans any other language than Latin. Like obviously many of the kids know other languages depending on where they come from before coming to Camp, but they only learn Latin at Camp Jupiter.

And I bring these two things up because a lot of Ancient Roman texts were written in Greek. Because in Ancient Rome, knowing Greek as a sign that you were educated. So some Roman writers wrote in Ancient Greek because they only wanted educated folks to read them. So there’s all these texts written by Ancient Romans in Ancient Greek at are either very culturally important (like Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations) or have mythological importance (I’m going through a lot of mythological fragments written in Greek right now and some of them are from Roman sources). And it is heavily implied that no one at Camp Jupiter and New Rome can read them. At least, they can’t read them unless they are translated.

And that’s like, really messed up. Like this implies that at some point between ancient times and when Percy shows up at Camp Jupiter, the Romans’ anti-Greek/Hellenic bias got so strong that they would rather cut themselves off from their own culture and texts than teach their children Ancient Greek so that they could read them.

Now let’s make this sadder. Jason spent six months at Camp Half-blood. He probably picked up some Greek there. It really wouldn’t surprise me if Chiron gave him a copy of Meditation’s with the original Greek text at some point. Because even if there are parts of Camp Half-blood that Jason likes and that work better for him, he deeply cares about New Rome and Camp Jupiter and wants the best for the people there. They are his people, this is the culture he grew up in and he cares about them.

So I can just see Jason planning on introducing teaching Ancient Greek at Camp Jupiter so that they can have access to their ancient texts in their original form again. And either he never got around to introducing this measure to the Senate because he died before he could or he did introduce it and was further shunned for no longer being Roman enough, and that’s part of why we see him living at a mortal boarding school in Trials of Apollo, because he’s “too Greek” and no longer all that welcomed in Camp Jupiter and New Rome. And either option is just really sad.

#my posts #pjo #pjo headcanon #percy jackon and the olympians #jason grace #camp jupiter #pjo hoo toa #there’s probably something here to be said about nationalistic movements #but I’m just going to leave it at this

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theromaboo · 1 year ago

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The Seventh Day of Julius Caesar

Julius Caesar did not speak in Ecclesiastical Latin (also known as Italianate Latin).

This is a misconception close to my heart because I actually got banned from TikTok because of it!

Basically, I was scrolling through the comment section of a TikTok video when I saw someone wrote a comment saying that Classical Latin pronunciation is artificial and fake and that Ecclesiastical Latin is actually the real, natural pronunciation of Latin that every single ancient Roman spoke in.

I replied to them, saying no, Ecclesiastical Latin is the artificial one, because it is pronouncing Latin with modern Standard Italian phonology. Languages evolve and there is no reason why every single Latin-speaking ancient Roman should have pronounced it as if it was Standard Italian. Latin was a living language for a long time and was spoken in a very large area, of course there would be tons of accents and dialects, changing and evolving over hundreds of years, and none of them should be identical to Ecclesiastical Latin, which is based on a modern language.

When linguists use clues to get a good idea of how educated people in Rome spoke Latin around the time of Julius Caesar, it's called Classical Latin pronunciation. It's not artificial; it's our best guess. And we have a lot of clues!

By the way, it's so annoying to write anything intelligent on TikTok because the character limit on comments is so restrictive!

What happened next was an insane back and forth argument that took place over 5 hours, and I now realise that I should've never interacted with them in the first place because nothing good would've come out from that.

It was a very amusing but very frustrating argument. My favourite part was when they kept saying I should read Vox Latina by Sydney Allen, which by the way, I had already read. They must've bought their copy of the book from the Dollar Store because I do not know how they read the book and believed that the ancient Romans spoke Ecclesiastical Latin. The entire book is pretty much about how the ancient Romans did not speak Ecclesiastical Latin! The Classical Latin pronunciation that person hates so much is exactly what Sydney Allen wrote in support of in Vox Latina!

Though I wish less people treated Vox Latina like the gospel. It's great but pretty old and outdated. I especially disagree with what he said about the vowels.

Anyway, one very long very amusing very frustrating argument later, they reported me for being underage, which I'm not. Proving I wasn't underage was too obnoxious for me, so I just quit using TikTok. The End.

I'm so sorry for anyone who isn't interested in the pronunciation of Latin; this must be so boring for you. But what I'm trying to get at is that we have a pretty good idea of how Julius Caesar would've pronounced Latin, and it's not Ecclesiastical Latin.

For example, veni vidi vici in Ecclesiastical Latin is pronounced similar to veh-nee vee-dee vee-chee (oh I hate writing things out phonetically like that but the IPA isn't working for me for some reason). But it most likely would've been pronounced similar to weh-nee wee-dee wee-kee (except the e in veni is pronounced a little bit more closed than in Ecclesiastical Latin).

#the 15 days of julius caesar #julius caesar #ides of march #ancient rome #latin #latin language #ecclesiastical latin #classical latin

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ashyjingles · 28 days ago

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The Kings Of Rome

I've just read Chapter 3 of SPQR by Mary Beard which means its time for another post with my comments on it and how I plan/want to use it for my Camp Jupiter fic from Riordan's Heroes of Olympus Series. (Oh, the things I do for you Jason Grace) Why? Because I can. Also this makes it easier so I don't have to go flipping through pages every time I want to find something lol

Before there were the Emperors of Rome, there were the Kings of Rome. Roman literature names around six from the time Romulus, the original founder in some myths, died, to when the Roman Republic started.

The first was Romulus, who isn't counted in the six kings; then there was Numa Pompilius, who played a large part in the religion of Ancient Rome; Tullus Hostilius, a 'renowned warmonger'; Ancus Marcius, founder of Rome's seaport at Ostia; Tarquinius Priscus, who I remembered as the Tarquin Prior to his son (I got confused a lot lmao) and who developed the Roman Forum; Servius Tullius, who created the Roman census; and Tarquinius Superbus who I remembered as the Tarquin that superseded his father and was such a terrible king that he ended the regal era in Rome.

Beard talks about how there was little evidence to support these kings existing, up until the the black stone in the Forum mentioned in chapter 2 was discovered

There was also a set of black stone slabs in the pavement of the Forum, making it distinct from the rest of the flooring in the area. When the stone below it was excavated, an early shrine, possibly to the god Vulcan was found, along with Athenian pottery, early Latin written in stone, and every day trinkets such as cups and jewelry. Some Romans at the time believed it to be an unlucky spot, others believed it to be Romulus’ grave.

with text written in archaic Latin that includes the word rex, or king ("RECEI as it appears in the early form of language used there"). The text is nearly incomprehensible -- much of it missing, making it incomplete and impossible to fully understand like much archeological evidence from so far back. It does, however, provide evidence that Rome was in fact a monarchy of sorts at some point.

Beard mentions how the use of the term "King" might not mean what we expect it to, considering how Rome most likely was still a small community at the time and we don't have the full context of the text. She suggests that Rome may not have been as developed as accounts suggest, and that the kings may have been more chief-like than king-like.

The community, based on archeological evidence and surrounding towns' development, would have been around 20,000 to 30,000 inhabitants. In contrast, one claim was that Rome had 80,000 adult male citizens alone in 200BCE, making the total population around 200,000 which is unlikely for a relatively new community in it's time. Given the smaller community, a more chief-like leader like the one Beard suggested could be more appropriate.

Numa Pompilius and Servius Tullius were two of the listen kings credited with some of Rome's greatest defining qualities, such as the structure of the official Roman religion and the Roman census respectively.

Roman religion was not "particularly concerned with personal salvation or morality" (page 103). Instead, they performed rituals to earn the gods' favour and ensure they aided Rome. They boasted how their devotion brought them good fortune and explained misfortune away as ignoring a bad omen or messing up a ritual.

Numa was credited with establishing a series of priesthoods to take charge of major rituals. One of these priesthoods was the Vestal Virgins, whose job was to keep the flame in the sacred hearth of the Forum burning.

Another feat accredited to Numa was making a twelve month calendar, each with 29 days. It's essentially made up of twelve lunar months, with an extra month added occasionally to keep up with the solar year in a similar fashion to the extra day we add in leap year.

Servius Tullius was credited with the census. Every citizen in the city would have their wealth recorded and would be assigned to a certain classification on the principle of 'the richer you are the more substantial and expensive equipment you can provide for yourself'. The highest class would have a full set of heavy bronze armour, and each lower class would have progressively lighter armour all the way down to the 5th class who would fight with slings and stones. The poorest were exempt from military service entirely. They were put into groups called "centuries".

Despite their name the groups would not be made up of 100 people. Because people in higher classes had more gear, they would be put into smaller centuries. The richest class was split into 80 centuries, the poorest would make 1 large one, and the middle 3 classes in between would each have 20-30 centuries with an additional 18 centuries of elite calvary and some special groups of engineers and musicians to make 193 total centuries.

Each century had 1 vote. So all the poorest class all together would only have 1 vote despite making a large percentage of the population, while the richest would have 80 votes put together. This gives the rich more voting power than the poor and, when combined with the 18 elite calvary, enough weight to outnumber all the lower classes combined in votes. (...I think. The centuries part really confused me and I had to draw a little diagram thing lmao)

Beard comments on how unlikely it would be for such an early period of Rome to come up with this system. She says it fits in with Romans' tendencies to make more modern achievements seem like they happened further in the past to make themselves seem more 'grand.'

"Whether or not anyone called Numa Pompilius ever existed is impossible to know; still less whether he did any of the things described ... But no matter how legendary or, at best, shadowy Numa was, one thing seems certain: some form of the calendar ascribed to him is the product of an early period in Rome's history" (page 104). So while we don't know for certain if these accomplishments credited to the kings were in fact a result of people named Numa Pompilius or Servius Tullius, they did occur due to someone in the regal era.

Tarquinius Priscus, another king of Rome, was murdered by the sons of his predecessor, Servius. Servius was placed on the throne due to being a favourite of Pricsus' wife and was murdered by Superbus. The violent history of the last three kings set them apart from the rest, but so did their history with Etruria.

Some accounts say that Etruscans held Rome for a short time, but there's no archeological evidence to suggest a takeover of the city at any point. Instead, there's lots of evidence of Etruscan towns being well versed in trade.

Lots of Etruscan sites had Athenian pottery and other imports. Natural minerals, especially bronze, was a large export for them and can be found in nearby places and cities.

*TW for mention of rape/sexual assault and suicide in the next set of paragraphs

The last king, Tarquinus Superbus, reinged with tyranny. He exploited the poor citizens of Rome, forcing them to build various projects of his to the point that several committed suicide. One of his sons raped Lucretia, the wife of Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus after the son, Sextus Tarquinius, threatened to kill her and a slave and make it look like a case of infidelity. Lucretia agreed to do what he wanted, and after told her husband and father what happened, and killer herself.

A wife's chastity/infidelity was a defining part of a wife and husband's relationship, making this a powerful story for Romans. Lucius Junius Brutus, who was at the scene of her death, vowed in that moment to rid Rome of kings forever.

Between the labour and the rape, Brutus was able to gain the support of many people and send Tarquin and his sons into exile. Brutus and Lucretia's husband, Collatinus, became the first two consuls of Rome. This was the birth of "the Republic" and several new founding myths were created, such as this was when the Island in the middle of the River Tiber was created, and the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill was dedicated to this first year.

Long summary. Oops. Anyways, as for my own commentary, I don't have any overarching connections, but I did take a lot of small notes.

Would Jason know archaic Latin? Would Roman demigods in general know archaic Latin? I think considering it's their history and they've brought a lot of it with them to New Rome, I'd go with yes. As someone who doesn't know Latin, I'm wondering what the difference is now though lol.

Having large names in myths/history led to a lot of people in Rome claiming descent from them. (The Brutus involved with Julius Caesar claimed descent from the Brutus in this chapter.) In Camp Jupiter they have legacies descended from other demigods, and the letters tied to their legacy. I can't quite remember it right now and I don't have the book, but it was like a certification of their lineage. I'm wondering if it would be interesting to make some related to certain figures of the past or if I should avoid it.

Part of Rome's historians recording a history far beyond what the city was probably capable of for the time period were many "great battles" between Rome's fighting force and unknown opponents. I think it could be a way to tie mysteries in Rome's history to the Riordanverse by explaining it as fighting monsters.

The civil conflict comes back in this chapter with the Kings and the fight for the throne between the last three kings. I know there's a civil conflict by the time we reach Heroes of Olympus with Octavian and Reyna, but I'm wondering how likely it is that there would be another issue even before Jason disappears, and how much of an interesting storyline/drawn out parallel it would be.

Would New Rome still have the census? Other governments today have adopted it in sorts, and now I'm wondering how similar to the original New Rome would have theirs, if one at all. I'm wondering about the political body in New Rome entirely, if I'm being honest. I know teenagers run Camp Jupiter, but do the praetors also run New Rome? Or do they have their own governing system?? Rick Riordan, I have questions. Like, LOTS.

Would priesthoods like the ones Numa invented still be around? Or are things more personalized and/or run by the praetors and augur. Given the small population, I wouldn't be surprised if that was something the latter were in charge of. Regardless, their devotion is still a large part of their lives.

Speaking of Numa, he's the one who founded the idea of a pontifex, which is what Jason becomes. I think it would be an interesting idea to reference his name at least a few times almost as a way to foreshadow it.

There's lots of bronze found in the Estrucan sites. My first thought, becomes the Riordanverse is ever present in the back of my mind, was celestial bronze. It could be, but given their proximity to the Romans who primarily use imperial gold, I'm not sure. Is there a potential the Romans used both at one point, but in their effort to separate the two parties their minds were wiped of celestial bronze? Either way, I think Jason and Reyna talking about wanting to visit these sites, partly for their history, but also because they wonder about the weapons, would be interesting, especially once they start running out. (In HoO they talk about wanting to visit the founding lands despite it being forbidden. I think it's a wonderful part of their relationship that I want to include.)

I will admit this chapter has me thinking about what the politics of New Rome would look like, but the next chapter is on the creation of Rome's political system during the time of the Republic so I'm saving my thoughts until I get through that section.

Sorry for the underwhelming notes lmao some chapters really are more of a history lesson for me than a way to tie Ancient Rome to the Riordanverse.

Jason Grace & Cicero Parallels || Chapter 1 on Cicero (and Catiline) Lupa || Chapter 2 on Roman Founding Myths Kings Of Rome || Chapter 3 on the Regal Period

#SPQR #SPQR fic #rome #ancient rome #roman history #jason grace is not boring and in this essay i will #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackon and the olympians #camp jupiter #pjo fandom #rick riordan #new rome #riordanverse #pjo series #pjo #riordan universe

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