#caesar is not. death. death upon him.

[bunni-v1]

Omegaverse Lighter Ramblings

🍓That Omagaverse ask has had me in a chokehold, I haven’t have the time to write much of anything since finals week started butttt I have to get Alpha!Lighter out of my head and onto my blog IMMEDIATELY!!!

TW: Omegaverse related stuff lol (marking, breeding, excessive use of the word alpha 💀)

Info: Lighter x Reader; Alpha!Lighter; implied Omega!Reader; Spoilers for Lighter’s trust events

-Lighter is unequivocally an Alpha, let’s get that settled. There’s no way he’s anything but. He has that pure alpha male kinda vibe (jsbsishwos).

-Speaking seriously, he presented around when he turned thirteen, and he’s always been seen as an “Alpha’s Alpha”. He’s strong, competent, and he demands respect just by being in a room.

-It’s part of why he became a mercenary in the first place. He just knew he was built to lead a pack, no matter how dangerous the work they did was.

-He was a great head too, his pack loved him and he loved them. He did his absolute best all the time to be the best Alpha he could be, supporting all of his pack members and never discriminating based on their second genders.

-He vowed he wouldn’t become a monster like other Alphas. He heard the stories of pack leaders losing their minds or abusing the weakest members just because they could. It made him sick to his stomach, so he made sure his pack was safe under him.

-So their deaths hit him so much harder. He legitimately cannot handle it, the grief and the devastation turn him into a monster in the ring. He is the perfect picture of everything he swore he would never become in those years, and they’re particularly difficult for him to reflect upon.

-Joining the SoC is also made harder because he’s kind of needing to recover from literally just living on his instincts 24/7. He avoids the girls like the plague cause he doesn’t want to hurt them — it’s his job to do the opposite.

-Slowly, slowlyyyy, he warms up to them and he lets them in and he doesn’t realize how much he missed having a pack to call his own until he has them. This time, though, he doesn’t want to lead and he doesn’t have to.

-(In case anyone is wondering Caesar is an Alpha (no duh), Piper is a beta, Burnice is… Omaga(?), and Lucy is an Omega. Lighter loves them so much, despite the distance he keeps, he hold nothing but respect and admiration for his pack.)

-It’s a good deal he’s got going too. He gets to have a pack full of friends and a home to call his own… and he can also take out any pent up aggression in his fights.

-Okay with all that out of the way, I’ll get into the shit you wanna hear.

-Firstly Lighter smells… peculiar? He’s got this woody kinda undertone and there’s a sharp scent of gasoline on top of it. He smells like a fire before it’s burning. It’s not bad, but it’s really intense and it can be… too much for most people.

-It’s something that lingers in the air even after he leaves. He always tries his best to contain it, but he can’t help that he naturally secretes a lot of his scent. The girls don’t complain, and it’s a good way of keeping people in check, so he never thinks too much of it.

-Though he does notice the odd looks he gets in Lumina Square, he just figures it’s because of the way he dresses or some other thing.

-It’s not till you point out that his scent is so strong that he realizes. You frame it as a good thing (because of course you love how your alpha smells), and he starts like secreting his scent more when you’re around 😭

-Speaking of you fucking REEK of Lighter. He is big on scenting, leans hard into that jealous protective side he has. If you smell like him, people probably won’t mess with you.

-If someone is stupid enough to do so, they probably won’t be around long enough to warn others not to, honestly.

-Imagine regular Lighter’s protectiveness turner up to like ten. He does NOT fuck around when it comes to his mate, not even a little. Those violent instincts come out tendfold when his mate is in trouble.

-So, yeah he scents you a lot, and he’s big big big on marking. You’ve gotta have a visible mating mark somewhere on your person or else Lighter’s gonna be antsy until he can get one on you.

-His favorite ones to leave are on the juncture between your neck and your jaw. The mark is big, but it’s still something that you can hide easily for more professional things.

-He’s quite possessive of you, too. He’s never had a real mate to call his own before, and you are everything he’s ever wanted and more. Excuse him for being a little obsessive.

-His favorite thing in the world, though, is your scent. He practically begs you to scent him every morning and every night. It rarely sticks thanks to how strong his own is, but it’s the idea that he wants your scent so badly that’s so flattering.

-He also wants you to mark him, and he doesn’t care where. His neck? Perfect! His chest? Wonderful! His thighs? Knock yourself out!

-He does LIKE having matching mating marks though, so he’d be very flattered to have your mark in the same place as his.

-Ah, and finally, let’s talk about his rut shall we?

-It’s intense, like worryingly so. It lasts about a week and a half, exceptionally long even for alphas, and it’s miserable to deal with alone.

-He used to take suppressants for them when he was younger, but during his time in the ring he just learned to lock himself away and deal with it.

-There’s little to no relief during his ruts when he’s alone. He can fuck his hand or use toys and cum like that and he’ll be fully erect within a minute later.

-He gets these awful fevers that, the first time it happened, the girls thought he was legitimately dying until Bug Daddy realized what was going on and chased them off.

-He really struggles to keep himself mentally in check during his ruts, so he usually locks himself away until it’s over for everyone’s well-being.

-When he gets with you, though, it’s… different. They’re MORE intense, like to the point it concerns him a lot. He connects pretty quickly that it’s because his alpha knows that he has a mate now, and it wants its mate to help it out.

-He’s kinda afraid to let you help, though. He’s not exactly coherent or even remotely considerate of anything during his rut. All he’s thinking about is how badly he needs to fuck whatever hole is in front of him (specifically, how badly he wants to fuck your hole and stuff it full of his pups).

-You’re insistent about it though, and he can only say come up with so many excuses before he finally gives in.

-It’s literally life changing, I’m not joking.

-He gives you a whole rundown about being safe and how you need to put yourself first no matter what and blah blah blah.

-He’s so fucking sweet to you during his rut, I’m not joking. It’s literally like his alpha is sedated by your presence, and he’s so incredibly obsessed with keeping you happy and satisfied with him.

-Anything you want it’s yours so long as he gets to be with you, okay. Just the smell of your skin is enough to make him sigh in relief. Let alone the touch of your skin.

-He’ll split open your legs and eat and eat and eat until you’re sobbing for him to do anything but. He can’t help that you taste soooo good on his tongue. He can’t get enough of that delicious flavor you’ve got, not when he’s so far buried into it now.

-God don’t even mention how you feel around him. It’s actual heaven, you letting him rut into your sweet little hole, all because you love him. All because you want to help him out. Oh, it has his alpha purring in delight.

-So many positions, most of which have him bent over you so he can coo in your ear how good you feel. How he can’t wait to see your tummy swell. How much he adores being inside you.

-It still takes him a while to cum, despite how satisfied he is being inside of you. It’s just how his body is, but when he does cum it’s A LOT. If he’s not knotting you you are almost drowning in it.

-Forbid if you play with it, he’ll be hard again in less than ten seconds and ready to go again.

-When he cums, though, he always leaves a nice bloodied mark to enjoy for later. Your whole neck is pretty much black and blue from how many he leaves.

-That’s okay though, you enjoy it too, which only motivates him to keep going more and more until you tell him to stop.

-You’re his cute little mate, all his to mark up and stuff up. The way you squirm when his knot swells inside you makes his toes curl.

-And when you whine about being “too full” as he pumps load after load inside he can’t help but laugh at you. You wanted this after all, don’t complain when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for.

-Having you during his rut shortens it a significant amount, and it usually only lasts four to five days so long as you’re available.

-After the fact he’s so doting, feeling so bad for splitting you apart and stuffing you too full. You usually need a few days to recover together, and it’s full of nothing but pampering and loving from your oh so adoring mate.

[catilinas]

lucan, pharsalia 7.786-95 trans. a.s. kline

cicero, philippics 2.59 + 71 trans. w.c.a. ker

[myownwholewildworld]

The Road to Rome

main masterlist | ao3

pairing: marcus acacius x war prisoner!f!reader. summary: Gaul, 52 BC. Julius Caesar and his bloodthirsty army have won the final battle of the Gallic Wars atop Mont Auxois, after sieging the oppidum of Alesia for more than a month. with the war coming to a bitter end, you, the daughter of the defeated Vercingetorix of the Arverni, are taken hostage. General Acacius is tasked with bringing you to Rome, letting you believe you’ll only be an entertainment to the masses. little do you know, that’s not the case at all… author's note: well... here's my submission for @almostfoxglove angst challenge! the lovely moodboard was made by freya, and this beautiful song served as inspo too - i've included as many elements as possible from both! i know it's a beast of a oneshot, so i apologise in advance. i just couldn't stop writing. hope y'all like it, likes, comments and reblogs appreciated! <3 tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. historical accuracies and some inaccuracies. appearances of historical figures. slow burn angst (bear with me pls). enemies to lovers. explicit smut. one bed trope. sleepy shenanigans. as for the rest… creator chose not to use archive warnings, just know there’s no happy ending here. no descriptions of reader other than a female who can be carried by marcus (he's a strong boy). no age gap. wordcount: 28.1k divider by @\saradika-graphics

A chance encounter in the woods of Mont Drouot had changed the course of your life forever. Your curiosity for General Acacius had sealed your fate.

Eyeing him from the cover provided by the trees, you had aimed your arrow at him. Ever so watchful, you had listened to the nature surrounding you, alert to any signs that he might be accompanied by one of his men. Alone he had trudged forward, until his back stiffened and came to a halt.

His vacant eyes—brown like those of Baco, the Gaulish boar-God—had shot to yours through the dense vegetation. Under his intense gaze you felt paralysed for an eternal second, your skin bristling with anticipation. His head had tilted, as if he was amused with your attempt to put an end to the war the Romans had waged on Gaul.

Steeling yourself, you had briefly looked down to the arrow’s point, slotting it in position. But the moment you glanced up, Acacius was gone, vanished like an anima haunting the realm of the living.

That had been your first mistake — not killing the Roman General right there and then. His death would not have stopped Julius Caesar from showering death upon your tribesmen, but it might have had set him back enough for your people to reconvene.

Your second mistake had happened soon after the first. Another fortuitous meeting, one where you had been at his mercy. You had fallen down a hole dug up in the side of the mountain, set by the Romans in the hope of some easy food. Acacius had found you with a twisted ankle, trying to crawl your way out of the pit. He had dropped a rope, which you tied around your waist, and lifted you up. The moment you set foot on the cushioned ground, you feared the worst, but he let you go without a word nor warning.

Your third mistake had been seeking him out in the battle that unfolded on Mont Auxois, near the Gallic oppidum of Alesia. The culmination of an eight-year long feud between Julius Caesar and your father, Vercingetorix of the Arverni. Had you refrained from your compulsion, you would have died a warrior’s death alongside your comrades.

But Acacius had intervened in the nick of time, right when one of the Roman legionnaires was about to behead you as you stood mighty and proud.

“Don’t. She’ll be useful,” he had said, tone gravelly with apathy.

Those words still rang in your ears. How badly you wished he hadn’t stepped in — for the alternative was way worse than death itself.

And now here you were, tied to a wooden post outside of the Roman camp. Men eyed you from a distance — some lewd gazes, others with a disgusted look. In return, you straightened your back, bestowing haughtiness upon your posture. It didn’t matter how desperate your situation was, you would affront your future with the arrogance they all deserved.

You paid them no mind, undeserving they were of your attention. Instead, you blindly patted the dirt around the post, grabbing a flat stone. Cupping it between your hands, you twisted it around until its sharpest edge met the rope and slowly worked at it to free yourself.

One of the Romans walked by your side, followed by another. He stared at you with disdain, with a superiority you knew was lacking. Your hands stopped, worried they would see what you were trying to do.

“Gaulish bitch,” he sneered, teeth bare. “You’re nothing more than a stray dog and as such should be put down. Your brutish people deserved what they got, crushed by the Roman yoke. You’ll yield or you’ll die.”

When he sniffled and hollowed his cheeks, you knew what was to come. You turned your face the moment he spat in your direction, his nauseating saliva skidding down the skin on your right cheek. Slowly you veered your head his way, eyes devoid of emotion, while a smile crept up on your mouth.

Fast as thunder, you swung your bound feet under him, causing him to fall to the boggy ground in the blink of an eye. He snarled like the animal he was, hands deep in the mud that he unburied to reach for your ankle. Before he could, you kicked him in the face with your bare heel.

Your heart was pounding so wildly, the adrenaline rushing through your veins like wildfire consuming a forest, anticipating their every move. You glanced up at the other man, his fist coming down quickly towards your face. You swiftly dodged the blow, his hand hitting the wooden post. The second man started howling in pain, all caused by his own doing.

You couldn’t help but cackle loudly.

“Is this what you mean by the Roman yoke? You pathetic, little men,” you mocked them, fearless. “Is this all you got?”

As they stood up, your heart came to a standstill. Not because of terror, but because all your senses had sharpened. You were overly aware of everything around you, of them too. Your fingers resumed their doing, slashing the rope that tethered your hands to the wooden post.

You would never fold, never let them see the anger that brewed inside you. Your family had taught you better and you would never tarnish their memory by succumbing to two trivial men. No matter the outcome.

“What is going on here?” his voice stopped the commotion before it escalated any further.

A voice you could recognise anywhere, even though the first time you actually ever heard it was on the battlefield, barking orders like the General he was.

Slowly you looked up at General Acacius, eyes squinting with defiance. He towered above you, but his attention was directed at the two men. His arms folded at chest level, a cocked brow staring them down. He exuded imposingness, as if he was highborn. There was something about his posture, the way he carried himself, that made you swallow hard to dissolve the lump in your throat.

“Are you deaf?” he insisted when the two apes didn’t respond.

“General, the prisoner was provoking us for no particular reason,” the one who tripped with your feet lied.

Another laugh escaped your lips, face tilted up to the cloudy sky. The fucking audacity these men had was ridiculous. Being born in a society where men and women were equal, you almost found amusing their piteous attempts at belittling you.

“Oh, fuck me. Do you truly believe I would talk to any of you of my own accord? It’s like talking to pigs,” you sneered, rolling your eyes.

The two men began talking loudly and rapidly, pointing at you while their angry tone grew and grew. You understood Latin, but when they screamed like pigs in the slaughter, they stopped making any sense.

“Silence,” Acacius ordered, one steady hand extended in front of him with the palm facing downwards. “This is not how we treat our prisoners, not under my command. I was watching you both as you approached her, do not take me for a fool,” he kept on berating them.

They took a step back, brows knitting together and eyes averted with shame. It was obvious that Acacius was way above them and were embarrassed to be caught in a lie.

“Be gone now. I don’t want you anywhere close to her,” he barked, the extended hand now pointing to the forest’s boundary. “You will be standing guard tonight, the whole night.”

Then they both glanced at you, pupils blown with anger. As they walked away, you gifted them with a haughty smirk. One of them turned around—ready to hit you, you presumed—but the second man held him back and pushed him towards the trees.

When you canted your head, grin still painted on your lips, you realised Acacius was studying you intensely, as if he was trying to dive into the windows to your soul. The smile was quickly replaced with a pout and a frown when he crouched down in front of you, elbows resting on his knees.

“Men do not like it when a woman is confrontational. You would do well if you toned it down,” he offered his unrequited advice calmly, the drawl of his voice weirdly… soothing.

“Fragile men, you mean,” you corrected him, straightening your posture and lifting your chin up.

Unexpectedly, Acacius cracked a tiny smile, one corner of his mouth slightly curving.

“Yes, fragile men. There are many of them around here, so be careful,” he conceded, the half-smile lingering.

“Many of you, you mean,” you pushed the limits because you didn’t know any better.

Acacius let out a chuckle, shaking his head. It transformed his features, softening the deep wrinkles that scored his sun-kissed skin. His head had tilted to one side, his warm brown eyes locked in on yours — and then you felt it again, your body taut, your skin bristling. The intensity of his gaze almost felt like a thunder hitting you right in the centre of your chest, leaving you gasping for air.

Suddenly, his hand reached for your face, and you tried to lean back away from his touch, for your head to hit the wooden post behind. You scowled, uncertain of what he was about to do, but that didn’t stop him.

With his thumb ghosting your cheek, his eyes searched for yours — an unspoken permission. Acacius took your silence as an affirmation, and then his thumb brushed your skin, cleaning the spit off your cheek.

The delicate gesture took you aback, unsure of why he would show you such care. The contact of his thumb on your skin was thrilling, a strange sensation crawling up your spine all the way up to the nape of your neck. Your skin bristled even more to the point of pain, as if you had been thrown in an icy lake, and your breaths quickened.

You didn’t like this — the power his body emanated; the power he had on you.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” you spat out, erasing the remnants of softness from his face in an instant, the blanket of war cascading down his expression.

Whatever gentleness you had thought to see in his orbs, was gone now.

“I am awaiting Caesar’s verdict. There are other prisoners—”

“Others? Who?” you pressed, your heart racing now at the possibility of not being the only survivor.

“A few men. Including Vercingetorix of the Arverni,” his words dragged, his eyes watching you closely.

You couldn’t stop the way your body stiffened at the discovery of your father being alive. Your pupils had widened, and your heartrate had spiked even more.

“Vercingetorix?” you asked, wanting confirmation that your mind was not playing games on you.

Acacius nodded slowly, his brows slightly touching each other, eyes squinting.

“Do you know him personally?”

“No,” you replied quickly. Too quickly.

Your heart would not stop pumping, so hard you could feel your heartbeat on your temples now. You tried taming your expression, forcing yourself to calm down and pretend that the news of Vercingetorix’s capture didn’t faze you at all.

“You’ve got the same eyes,” Marcus thought out loud, scratching his stubble absentmindedly.

“No, we don’t,” you blurted out, your throat squeezing.

The man was like a hound with a chewed bone. You could see he was not going to let it go so easily — he knew you were lying. His eyes squinted and then clicked his fingers, the cracking sound momentarily distracting as you focused on his hands.

Big as paws, so broad he could easily wrap them around…

Focus.

“Why didn’t you kill me when I fell in your hunting trap?” you attempted to divert his attention from the issue at hand. “Or are you a really shitty hunter, letting your prey go so easily?”

Marcus’ brow furrowed even deeper, and you wondered if he would bite the bait. You couldn’t have him asking any more questions or he would find out the truth.

Or were you too late for that? You could only imagine what the Romans would do if they discovered you were Vercingetorix’s daughter. They would use you in despicable ways to get your father to bend to their will. As fierce as your father was, he had a tender spot for you. If he knew you had survived and been taken hostage, Vercingetorix would try to strike a deal to cut you lose.

But it would be in vain — Rome was thirsty for blood.

“You could say my hunting days are long gone. I don’t enjoy the thrill of the chase anymore,” he bluntly responded, towering above you as he stood up. “Get some rest if you can.”

“Easier said than done when I have to watch my back at all times,” you sneered, rolling your eyes.

Because if you fell asleep, your guard would be down. And you didn’t trust those two men — you knew, saw in their eyes, that they would come back for payback.

Acacius gifted you with a stern look, all the previous softness and nonchalance forgotten. This was the General you had gotten a glimpse of in the battlefield. One, you suspected, that knew more about you than you wanted. One that wouldn’t stop until he uncovered the truth of your ancestry.

Without any other word, General Acacius turned around and disappeared behind the bright red flap of a tent.

You couldn’t just wait around to see what would happen. You had to break free, or they would kill you. Or worse, use you as leverage.

With renewed strength and determination, you resumed the slicing of the rope that bound you to the post.

“How sure are you of your suspicions, Acacius?”

He had debated whether to speak of his conjecture or not. Nothing should hold him back from sharing an inkling with his old friend. If he was right, then they could get Vercingetorix to finally surrender the last enclaves of the Gauls — the bastard had not spoken one word since his capture. The war would be over, and he could return home.

So, if this was the right thing to do, why was he now doubting himself?

Your blown pupils still haunted him, the way you whispered “no, we don’t” in a hush when questioned about the shade of your eyes. As soon as your expression faltered, Marcus knew he was onto something. And he hated himself for it — for not being in a position of freedom where he could just pretend he hadn’t heard the fleeting panic in your voice.

Marcus wished he could lie to Julius Caesar; say he might have misinterpreted the signals. But he couldn’t — he was indebted to the man in front of him. Marcus owed Julius his life and loyalty for taking him under his wing and giving him the chance to make a name for himself when no one believed in a puny farmer boy from the countryside.

Thanks to his friend and his own hard work, Marcus had climbed up the military ladder, having been decorated with the title of General ten years ago. Marcus had many victories under his belt, having proved his worth with sweat, tears and blood.

“I am positive she is Vercingetorix’s daughter, Caesar,” he ended up answering, straightening his back. “I went to pay him a visit. The moment I described her, his expression flinched. It’s her.”

“You have questioned the man yourself?” Caesar asked with a smirk, lazily resting on the chaise lounge. He nodded in reply. “Hope you’ve beaten him good.”

Acacius was not one to resort to unnecessary violence if he could avoid it. There was enough blood on his hands as it was, didn’t need another notch on his conscience. So, when he visited the Gaulish chief, Marcus only used carefully delivered words to disarm his enemy. It had worked, because even if Vercingetorix hadn’t said a word, his reaction was all confirmation he needed.

He didn’t reply, standing tall in front of Caesar with his hands laced on his back, waiting to be discharged so he could call it a night and get some rest.

“We’ll use her as leverage,” his friend thought out loud.

Dread sank to the bottom of his stomach. Caesar could be… awfully creative sometimes.

His thirst for power, for notoriety, was very well known among the political sphere that surrounded Rome. Caesar had amassed gold and immense power over the last six years on Gaulish land. Julius had told Marcus in the past that this seemed to worry his allies in the First Triumvirate. With Crassus’ death last year, it was only Caesar and Pompeius Magnus who kept the political alliance intact.

But Marcus knew Julius wanted more — he’d heard his friend spoke of future plans that could hinder the Roman Republic. Those talks strayed far from what Marcus thought Caesar stood for, but they were more recurrent now, bordering on coup ideology.

Where Marcus would stand when, or if, that time came… He wasn’t so sure. He’d supported Caesar in so many of his quests and conquests, it would feel like a betrayal to the only man who believed in him.

Perhaps it’ll never come to that, he always reminded himself.

“Leverage? How so?” Marcus forced his voice to sound flat, uninspired, when, in reality, an uncomfortable feeling settled in his tummy.

“Glad you asked, Acacius,” Caesar’s smirk only reinforced his fear. “Since Crassus’ death last year, I fear my alliance with Pompeius Magnus might suffer. Although I trust my sister Julia will keep him bound and loyal, I need to ensure more allies and reinforce the ones I already have,” his friend explained, sitting up on the chaise lounge. “You are to bring the hostage to Rome. We’ll marry her off to General Marcus Antonius’ brother, Gaius.”

Dread mutated within him, rage taking over.

If there ever was a man to walk this earth whom Marcus despised, that was Gaius Antonius. One year younger than his notorious brother, the man was as despicable as one could get. A drunk philanderer, Gaius could always be found in one of two places: in a private house drinking himself to death and gambling, or in a brothel satiating his lust. The man’s manners were lacking, his ill fame well-deserved. Always so confrontational, looking for a fight to entertain himself.

Everything Marcus hated culminating in one singular person. The times they had run into each other, Gaius had always been so condescending that Marcus had to rein in the need to gut him right there and then. Antonius’ younger brother had mocked him for his humble origins, telling Marcus it didn’t matter how hard he tried, he’d always be a farmer.

So delivering a woman—any woman—to that shitbag of a man… it didn’t sit well with him at all. It would be a life sentence for you — because if you didn’t die at Gaius’ hands, you might as well wish for a quick death.

And what was worst, Caesar knew all of this, but still asked anyway.

A true friend wouldn’t, Marcus ruminated but drowned such treacherous thought.

“That would take weeks, General. With all due respect, I’ve got other responsibilities that—” Marcus started his plea, hoping to be released from such a mission.

“You’re the only man I trust, Acacius. I wouldn’t ask otherwise,” Caesar cut him off, standing up in front of him. One of his friend’s hands landed on his shoulder, gently squeezing. “I confide this assignment to you because I know you’ll get it done. Your word, Acacius?”

Marcus was between a rock and a hard place. Fear gripped him tight, his throat running dry with unspent poison pooling on his tongue.

He didn’t want to do it. But there was no way out.

“My word, Caesar,” he husked, slightly bowing his head down.

The agreement that would seal his fate.

“Why the long face, Acacius?” Antonius taunted him as he bit into the meat gripped between his fingers, the bloody juices running down his wrist and forearm. “You’ll get enough gold to retire after your mission, Caesar always pays.”

Payment was not an incentive for Marcus. He’d never wished for fortune nor recognition. He had enough money to live comfortably, a modest home where he could wind down and recover from the consequences of war. He didn’t fight for money — he fought for conviction, for the glory of Rome, for what he thought was right.

Or, at least, that was what originally had him enrol in the legion. After over two decades of bloodshed, Marcus had had his eyes open, his stance not as clear anymore. War had changed him, for better or worse. He didn’t regret his achievements, but the lives he had to saw to get where he now was.

His young self had been blind to the crude reality of war, eager to prove himself a worthy warrior. Now, with a few souls on his back and dirty hands, Marcus saw the events of his life under a different light.

“Not all of us are motivated by coin,” Marcus grunted, leaving the empty goblet on the makeshift table. “Some of us are happy with what we’ve got.”

“That’s the old you speaking, Acacius,” Antonius cackled, palming the wooden table. “You’re so righteous sometimes, it pains me.”

Marcus didn’t reply, chewing his dried bread until his jaw hurt, a dull ache shooting up to his cheeks.

It didn’t feel that way sometimes — righteousness seemed to evade him now. Because if he was certain of his own morality, he wouldn’t go through with the mission Caesar had bestowed upon him. He wouldn’t deliver you like cattle to the slaughter. Your destiny—your defeat, watching your people perish at the mercy of a Roman sword—seemed punishment enough.

But he truly didn’t see this panning out any other way. In the grand scheme of things, Marcus was just another pawn in an intricate plan he was not apprised of. Despite his station, he still had to follow orders. Disobeying them—or worse, interfering—would have him dead before dawn cracked in the horizon.

Getting killed over a stranger—an enemy—seemed ludicrous. Everything he had worked so hard for, for naught. There was no room for kindness in the midst of war.

“If you’ll excuse me, General, I shall retire to my tent,” Marcus excused himself, getting up off the bench. “Vale (farewell), Antonius.”

Marcus made his way through the camp, fires lit with legionnaires around them, sharing old wives’ tales and anecdotes from battles, their yearnings and hopes for the future. For being late, the encampment was still very much alive, the quiet chatter filtering through the smoke-dense air.

Trudging on, his tired muscles begged him for a break. War was relentless, hard on the body and the mind. But no matter how fatigued he was, Marcus couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. Although the war appeared to have come to an end, the thought of being on his enemy’s backyard was still present on his foremind.

As he walked past the post you were tied to, something caught his attention. Frowning, Marcus came to a halt, head slightly tilted with suspicion — a tingling sensation on his neck alerting of something out of place.

No, not something. Someone. Because when he looked in your direction, you were not there.

Marcus approached the empty spot and kneeled, finding that the ropes that kept you bound had been severed. His hand palmed the poorly lit ground, finding a sharp stone.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, standing up and flagging down a passing archer. “Give me that.”

The moment you saw Marcus distractedly saunter towards you, a rush of energy bloomed within you. It was now or never.

No one was coming to rescue you, because there was no one left to pick up the dusty sword of freedom. Waiting was pointless, so you had to take matters into your own hands.

When the last thread of the rope that bound you was cut loose, you crawled through the mud and ran for your life towards the forest. Barefoot, tired and thirsty, lungs burning now, you kept on running without looking back. Branches brushed against your skin, slicing your face, arms and legs. Spikey stones stabbed your soles, but that didn’t stop you either.

“Halt!”

The steadfast command almost made you obey the order. But doing so would mean going back to being a hostage at the mercy of men who had higher praise for sheep than women. Death was the least of your worries — and you would not suffer at the hands of cruel tyrants.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed that General Acacius was catching up with you, fast as a wolf stalking its prey. Despite the ache, the agony, you pushed forward, dodging trees and bushes in an attempt to lose him. These were your woods, the land you had grown up on, and as such you knew them like the palm of your hand. A few more minutes and you would reach a low cliff overlooking the river Oze. Just as you had done in your youth, you would jump in and let the current take you as far away as possible.

“Stop, dammit! Don’t make me shoot you an arrow!”

The warning in his now breathless voice made you look back again, realising that Acacius had a bow with him.

Panic started bubbling in your chest, adrenaline taking over your bloodstream like lava. Strained lungs and with your heart pounding in your throat, you focused on the path ahead, your feet rushing under you like thunder.

The whistling hiss of an arrow flew by your ear, kissing your cheek and drawing blood.

But that didn’t stop you, running as fast as your feet would take you. Focused on the path ahead, ignoring Acacius’ warnings, you glimpsed a clearing in the trees. Your freedom was close, just a few yards away the small cliff greeted you like your own personal salvation. So close, you could almost see the darkness spilling over the precipice.

You were going to make it — freedom tasting sweet on your tongue, despite the blood dripping onto your lips from the cut on your cheek.

As you leaped towards the abyss, another buzzing sound flew towards you. This time the arrow found its target, sinking in the back of your right shoulder as you plunged into the void underneath screaming in agony.

Dark water swallowed your body as you plummeted to the riverbed. The current was strong and unforgiving due to the latest torrential rains, battering you around and slamming your body against the hard edges of the rocky bottom. Your back hit a boulder rather harshly, your lungs vacating the little oxygen they held into the stream.

This was how you were going to die after all — not on the battlefield, not at your enemy’s mercy, but taken by the goddess Nantosuelta herself. The blurry lines of your vision began collapsing as your mind drifted away, eyes shutting and limbs limp floating around you.

Something surrounded your waist like a vine, but instead of pushing you further down, it pulled you up until your head breached the surface. The cold air kissed your face, and you coughed to clear your airways, water spilling over your lips in spurts.

“Hold onto me!” General Acacius shouted at you, gripping you closer to his broad frame.

You blinked, confused at first. Then it hit you: the Roman General had jumped after you, dragging you out of the bottom of the river. He was trying to save you from drowning, even if that meant dying with you.

Still feeling dizzy, muscles unresponsive, you managed to drape one arm around his neck whilst Acacius battled with the current. It was only ten minutes, but to you it felt like an eternity — you both went under a couple of times, but Acacius never let you go, his arm hugging you tight like a vice.

Finally, General Acacius hauled you out. You both fell to your knees as soon as you reached the shore. Having gulped down at least a pint of water, you heaved and retched until the burning sensation travelling up your throat was unbearable.

Then you dropped to one side, curled up on the river’s edge. Exhaustion coursed through your body from head to toes while your breathing calmed down. Acacius was besides you, sitting back on his heels with a bewildered look.

“Why… did you… save me?” you managed to slur some words together.

His expression softened, running a hand down his tired face.

“I don’t know,” he husked out. “I couldn’t let you die.”

His features folded as soon as he spoke the last words, avoiding your eyes. He couldn’t let you die this way, you assumed he meant, implying he was willing to let you die a different way.

“You’re bleeding,” he changed subjects, pointing to the arrowhead sticking out just above your clavicle.

“I wonder whose fault that is,” you sneered, sitting up on the ground.

The reality was you didn’t feel the pain. Your body had gone into overdrive, focusing your remaining energy on keeping you alive.

“I told you I’d shoot, and you didn’t listen,” Acacius grunted, dragging his knees towards you. “Let me see.”

Not having the mental capacity to retort back, you let him inspect the wound, his wet fingers carefully caressing the bloody skin around the wooden shaft.

“It’s gone through cleanly. I’m going to snap the arrowhead so you don’t hurt yourself. Ready?” He didn’t give you much time to process his words, because soon enough he did exactly as he told you.

Through gritted teeth, you hissed in pain, jaw clenching so hard you might break a tooth.

“You bastard,” you sneered, but your animosity didn’t make him flinch.

In any case, he was closer than he was before. His wet silvery curls dripped onto your tilted face as you looked up at him with anger lighting your eyes.

“I need to remove the shaft too but can’t do it here, you’ll bleed out. I need to stitch you up as soon as it’s out,” Acacius spoke calmly, ignoring the fury simmering in your face.

The walk back to the Roman camp was excruciating. Pain shot from your shoulder in all directions, but you pushed through it. Acacius had a tight grip around your waist as you hugged his shoulders to stand up, keeping you close to him, his hand laced with yours.

Luckily, no one was there to see your rather pathetic entrance. You only crossed paths with a couple of legionnaires who nodded in acknowledgement to Acacius, and soon after that he directed you to a tent.

Once inside, you stood in the middle of it awkwardly. The red textile walls were bright, but the rest of the decoration was spartan. A bed that would barely fit two people, a wooden trunk with a lit candle as a nightstand, a wonky dresser, two chairs and a couple of chests. There was a small cauldron in the middle of the room which had red embers in it, its warmth spilling into the space.

What caught your attention was that there were no personal effects in sight. This could perfectly be the sleeping quarters of a low rank soldier, and you wondered if Acacius had mistaken his tent for someone else’s.

“Take a seat,” he pointed towards one the chairs.

You were so knackered, you happily obliged, letting yourself fall onto the chair. You were drenched, your leather garments soaked and heavy, but still didn’t feel the snappy cold bite your skin.

Your gaze tracked Acacius as he ambled towards one of the chests. But you quickly looked away when he undid the knots that kept his chestplate in place. The clink of metal told you he was getting rid of the top part of his armour.

Despite your efforts, curiosity won. In the corner of your eye, you saw his bare back — his back muscles undulating under his damp skin, shoulders flexing as he pulled the linen shirt over his head. His waist was sculpted, slightly thinner than his chest. Two pronounced dimples on his lower back distracted you from the battle scars dotted around his frame.

Enemy or not, the man was a treat. You’d have to be blind to say otherwise.

Unfortunately for you, Acacius didn’t turn around — just opened the chest, rummaged through it and fished a fresh linen shirt that quickly covered his body. The damp skirt remained though, and you guessed the General was not as comfortable with you in the tent.

Acacius veered towards the dresser, going through the contents of the first drawer and leaving different items on top. When he turned around to face you, he was holding a bottle of wine that he extended towards you.

You blinked at him blankly.

“Removing the shaft is going to hurt like hell. The alcohol will numb your senses and if you’re lucky enough, you might not feel too much pain,” Acacius explained while you grabbed the bottle, cocking a mighty brow.

“So, you want me drunk. Here, alone with you,” your words dragged, hinting at your distrust. “It’s only fair if you get drunk too.”

Acacius huffed and puffed, sitting beside you on the empty chair, and stole the bottle from your grasp, the cork stopper flying.

“So untrusting. If I hurt you while patching you up, then don’t complain,” he grunted before bringing the bottle to his lips.

You were momentarily mesmerised by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His neck was thick and chiselled, stubble covering his jaw. You wondered if it would be prickly to the touch, your fingers testing the girth of his neck.

To suffocate him, obviously — nothing else.

“I’ll take my chances,” you retorted, shrugging. The slight movement of your shoulders made you grimace. “Pass me that.”

Minutes went by as you and Acacius shared the wine, taking turns on emptying the bottle. He didn’t say a word, and you guessed he wasn’t a big talker. You were comfortable with silence, but a doubt nagged at you.

There had to be a reason for his rescuing. Why would he risk his life to save yours otherwise? If he thought you were nothing, no one of relevance, he should have let you drown. But he hadn’t, and you doubted it had been out of pure altruism. Acacius didn’t know you at all except for the few exchanges you had had in the past. You were even — you hadn’t killed him in the woods, and in return he had dug you out of the hole you fell into.

“Has Caesar come to a decision about me?” you blurted out, the only explanation for you to be here right now, alive.

Acacius gave you a long look, his hand quick to rob you of the alcohol. His eyes remained locked with yours as he drank. The void in his orbs was pretty telling, but you needed confirmation from him — confirmation that you had said too much when he mentioned your father. That you fucked up.

“I spoke to your father,” Acacius drawled, studying your expression. There was no point in denying what was obvious, so you didn’t interrupt. “He didn’t sell you out, but it was pretty obvious I was onto something when I started talking about you.”

“Have you tortured him?” you voiced your worry, brows pinching.

The General slouched back, almost as if he was offended by your question. You had seen the aftermath of their grilling — broken fingers, dislocated jaws, bent-backwards knees. It wasn’t wrong of you to assume the worst of him.

“No,” he responded flatly, drinking again and passing the bottle. “Caesar has decided a new future for you. You are to be brought to Rome. You’ll come with me.”

Your heart literally stopped beating. If it wasn’t for the wine already working its magic, you might have stood up and emptied the bottle on his face. But you didn’t — instead, you glanced at him, lips pressed contemptuously.

“And what will I be doing there, dare I ask? Are you going to throw me in a cage and parade me around town like an animal so your citizens can look at a savage eye to eye?” you sneered, grabbing the bottle to quench your rage.

If you hadn’t closed your eyes, you might have seen the guilt flashing on his eyes. But you didn’t, too focused on drowning your mind so you wouldn’t think about what the future laid ahead.

“Your father will be going too,” he offered as consolation.

Your eyes did spark up at him, the idea of seeing your father one last time somewhat calming.

“Will he be coming with us?” you ventured, your hopes too quick to rise.

“No, he’s a bigger risk. A small entourage will accompany him,” he answered, fingers curling in your direction in a silent plea to give him the wine.

“Oh,” you didn’t hide your disappointment.

You handed him the alcohol and his fingers lingered around yours for a second. Perhaps it was the wine, but you caught sadness in the way his eyes watched you. Pity, probably, conscious of what your life might look like in a few weeks’ time.

“We’ll be going alone. I trust that the thought of your father’s wellbeing will deter you from trying to escape. Otherwise, I’d have to chain you and it’s not something I’d like to do,” Acacius grumbled, voice slightly slurred.

So your father’s life depended on you — on obediently following this man to your enslavement. Life was fucking cruel, but you would never be the reason for your father’s death, of that much you were sure. There wasn’t much of a decision to make there.

“Alright,” you mumbled back, straightening your back. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow at the crack of dawn,” Acacius tilted his head towards you, a downcast expression eagerly studying yours.

Silence fell like a blanket again, each of you immersed in your own thoughts. When the bottle finally ran out, Acacius got up and walked towards the dresser, collecting the items he’d placed on top of it. His stance was not as firm anymore — shoulders relaxed, feet slightly wobbly thanks to the alcohol flushing his system.

“Are you ready?” he asked, dragging his chair towards you once he sat back down.

You nodded, stiffening your posture. You prayed the wine worked its miracle.

Marcus could tell how drained you were by the end of it. His hand had not been the most stable, considering the amount of grape juice he had chucked down. He regretted drinking so much, but was able to stitch you up in the end. Not his best work, but it would do, keeping the wound close to avoid infection.

Your head tipped, and Marcus was quick enough to hold your forehead so you wouldn’t fall forward. He wasn’t sure if you were drowsy because of the alcohol, the pain or because your body finally left its alertness state, or a combination of it all. What he did know though was that you needed some rest.

He wasn’t as heartless as you thought — couldn’t bring himself up to drag you outside and tie you to the wooden post again. Not when he suspected the two men would come back for payback.

Without many more options, Acacius scooped you up from the chair, careful not to wake you, and laid you down on his bed. You immediately sighed with relief when your frame sank in the straw mattress, engulfing you in its warmth. You nuzzled his pillow, inhaling deeply before your pinched brow smoothed out.

You looked so different when you slept. Your hair covering your face, long eyelashes kissing your cheeks and your mouth slightly agape, taking in soft breaths. Younger too, although Marcus believed you both were around the same age. Perhaps you were older than him, considering how weathered his golden skin had become under the scorching sun for years.

He hated himself for omitting the truth, for not telling you what would be of you once in Rome. Marcus let you believe that you would be a slave, an entertainment to the crowds, but your reality would be much more darker than that. He didn’t know you, but could safely bet that you would strongly object to being married off as a war trophy. Anyone would.

Were you married? He scanned your fingers from the distance but saw no wedding band. Perhaps it wasn’t common in your culture to wear one.

Marcus frowned — despite having lived on this land for over a lustrum, he didn’t really know much about its inhabitants and your customs. Though he wasn’t here to make allies, but to destroy the life you and your ancestors had built.

He’d never thought of it that way, always pushing such logic aside so he could do his job. As Caesar would say, “Veni, vidi, vici.” It was fucking cruel, an injustice really, but his hands were as tied as yours.

Eventually Marcus drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep, almost falling from the chair twice before he hauled over one of the chests to prop his legs up.

He’d close his eyes for a second, just to recharge for a bit, then would stand guard the rest of the night to assure your safety — and captivity.

“Acacius,” something tugged at the linen of his shirt, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. “It’s dawn.”

The words seemed to come from far away, not registering on his mind. He hmphed and shut his eyes again, knackered from a restless night. Five more minutes, that was all he needed.

“Oi, hey!”

A slap on his shoulder startled him awake, sitting up on the chair instantly as he quickly scanned the room — a throbbing headache haunting him.

Then he saw you, sat on his bed with your feet dangling from the edge, an inquisitory glance shot his way.

“Fuck,” he groaned, realising he’d fallen asleep for longer than intended. “Shouldn’t have drunk so much,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m no better,” you hushed, watching him intently. “But the wound seems to be healing alright.”

Marcus straightened up, pulling his chair closer, hand reaching for your shoulder in unspoken permission. You slid down the neck of your leather garment, showing him the injury. His fingertips teased around the laceration, and under his touch you shivered.

He quickly removed his hand; afraid his caress was doing more harm than good.

“Sorry. It’s a bit inflamed but otherwise seems fine.”

You nodded in mute reply.

At the same time both of you stood up — so close, you bumped into each other. Marcus almost kicked you off your feet and you tumbled back. Before you fell back onto the bed, Marcus grabbed your forearm and pulled, crashing you against his chest.

The sudden proximity brought with it your scent — earthy cinnamon with a floral hint, sweet and musky. Marcus couldn’t control the need to inhale, to take you in for a brief instant. He hadn’t let himself be close to anyone in a very long while, not when war was at the forefront of his mind. Simply didn’t have the time, always busy with battles, training or strategizing for what was next.

Your closeness briefly reminded him of a life he once yearned for. To settle down, to marry, to have a family — his kids waiting for his arrival, hugging his legs while he patted their heads in loving reassurance. But when the opportunity of proving himself worthy knocked at his door, he seized it and parked his other desires, incapable of seeing a way to reconcile those two very different lives.

Why had your mere presence suddenly unearthed those thoughts? He was only curious about you, knew perfectly what his role was — your captor, the one in charge of delivering you like cargo to another man, one he despised.

Marcus forced himself take a step back, avoiding your inquisitive gaze, letting go of your forearm and turning around in haste.

“We’ll only bring what’s necessary,” he husked out, busy with stuffing the saddlebags.

“Uhm, okay…”

Your lower back hurt. Your thighs far stretched over the horse’s back, a stinging pain pooling on your crotch. Your ass was sore due to the gentle yet constant bouncing.

You had been riding for three days. The ascent on horseback to the height of the Alps was draining. Cold, icy air bit your skin, the leather skins Acacius had secured not enough to keep the freezing temperatures away. Last night a blizzard almost wiped you out off the face of the Earth. The temperatures had dropped so much, you couldn’t help yourself but curl up against Acacius at night in an attempt to keep your body as warm as possible. He’d huffed in reply, but didn’t push you away.

Today you had only stopped at dusk after Acacius spent at least an hour finding the right spot — away from prying eyes, from a possible ambush. He did well on keeping clear of crowded paths, so well you had not seen another soul in the last seventy-two hours.

If you had a small hope of someone rescuing you, it was now dwindling. And even if that happened, you couldn’t just leave your father to his fate. So despite how many times that delusional scene played in your mind, you knew you just couldn’t act on it. You had surrendered to your destiny, whatever it was.

“We’ll set up camp here for the night,” Acacius gritted out, the first words he had spoken to you since dawn reddened the sky this morning.

He’d been given you the silence treatment since your departure three days ago, got even worse since last night. As much as you tried to discern the reason for his taciturnity, your mind ended up going back to the moment he held you close to his chest. To how your body pressed against his as both of you tried to get some rest.

Had he also felt the rushing of blood pumping on his eardrums? Had he also gotten goosebumps? Had his breath also hitched in the back of his throat?

Did he or was it only you? You’d never know. The man had become an icy wall — one you couldn’t penetrate, no matter how much you poked at it. You talked and talked to fill the silence, and his only answers were “hmm” to show disagreement and “mhm” to say yes. At one point you grew tired of his muteness and gave up altogether.

It was almost as if Acacius was unhappy to be there, as if you dragged him there when it was all the way around.

“You know, you could’ve just asked somebody else to take me to Rome. It’s not like I forced you to be here. Rather the opposite,” you gritted out, huffing and puffing while grabbing one end of the flat tent to start building it.

As expected, he just ignored you, helping out from the other end of the tent as you worked together to erect it. Grabbing a rock, you hammered the last iron spike to the ground, testing the tension of the rope.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he gritted out, crouching to go through one of the saddlebags and handed you a piece of dried meat.

You squatted down too and accepted the offering, chewing away and mildly wincing, the saltiness upsetting your tastebuds.

“A Roman General didn’t have a choice,” you repeated after him, cocking a brow. “That sounds ridiculous. I don’t have a choice, pretty sure you do.”

“I still follow orders. And when Caesar asks, you can’t say no to,” the inflexion on the word made you look his way, slightly tilting your head to one side with curiosity.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t.”

You hmphed, shaking your head with certain disdain. You knew little of Roman politics, but as far as you could tell, both Acacius and Caesar had the same rank. One submissively accepting orders from the other without rebuttal didn’t make sense.

“You’re his lapdog,” you didn’t say it to mock him, it was just an observation based on facts. “With no freewill, no choice. Sounds like we are both hostages to the same oppressor.”

“It’s not as simple,” Acacius sighed. “The current political climate in the Republic is… complicated.”

“So, Caesar is in the middle of a political storm back home, but he’s here giving us hell for no reason whatsoever other than showing his power to his rivals. Bet he’s got better things to do then.” When Acacius didn’t reply, you pressed, “Don’t you have better things to do than warmongering? A business to look after back home? A family, perhaps?”

The last question slipped. You were not prodding, didn’t care about what his marital status was, if he had a woman waiting for his safe return. No, nothing like that.

So if you truly didn’t, why did you look at him expectant?

He briefly glanced at you, his attention shifting to the wineskin he just pulled out of the saddlebag and then to the two horses tied up nearby. His avoidance made you frown. Had you hit a nerve of some sort?

“I don’t. This is all I know, all I ever wanted,” Acacius muttered before leaning his head back to aim the trickle of wine into his mouth.

The way he carefully delivered the words… there was a lie hidden between them. You didn’t know though which one of the two statements was the deceitful one. Or both, perhaps.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, conscious that you wouldn’t get him to talk any more than what you already had.

You shared the dried meat and the wine in silence. The biting cold sent shivers all over your body, skin bristled and teeth chattering by the time you were done eating. With no fire going to keep you warm, you were dying to retreat back to the tent.

“Should call it a night,” you mumbled, grabbing your saddlebag to bring it in with you.

Acacius grunted his accord, standing up. “I’ll check on the horses and I’ll be right back.”

He turned around as you scurried away, the temperature inside the tent as freezing as it was out there. It was going to be a rough night, especially since it seemed to be colder than last. You shuffled around, putting on more layers and rearranging the different animal skins until you were cozily beneath them. Your jaw tightened and let go of a grunt, a cloud of mist forming around your lips. Still you shuddered uncontrollably, a futile attempt to rise your body temperature.

A few minutes later, Acacius entered the tent, and you were no closer to falling asleep. In fact, you were so cold, you were wide awake. In the gloom of night, you barely made out his silhouette as he prepared to lie down beside you. The General quietly buried himself under a pile of skins.

Not a word was crossed, the dead tranquillity of the night broken by your chattering teeth.

“Stop that,” Acacius grumbled, half asleep, swatting you gently. “You’re too loud.”

“It’s not like I can fucking stop it, can I?” you gritted out, frustrated with his ease to drift away. “It’s freezing, dammit.”

The General rumbled and huffed, dragging his body towards you. He lifted the skins off himself, did the same thing with yours and joined you under the blankets, throwing them all over you both. The added weight of the skins, heavy and warm, was most welcomed, but it was Acacius’ body what made your temperature underneath the covers spike up.

The man was a damn furnace.

Driven by self-preservation, your hands found his forearm and clamped around them.

Acacius hissed.

“Your fingers are like icicles,” he complained, but didn’t move away.

“If you think my hands are freezing, wait to feel my feet,” and with no remorse, you brushed his shin with the sole of one foot. Your engaged muscles started to soften, his warmth pouring into you.

“Shit,” Acacius mumbled, his jaw tightening in the darkness, but again remained still. “You may well be at risk of frostbite.”

You grunted in agreement, unknowingly seeking him as you curled up against his side. His body temperature would be enough to keep the both of you warm through the night. You began to relax, your jaw now slack and teeth quiet. Slowly you fell into a peaceful slumber, the first night you actually got some much-needed rest.

When one of your eyes fluttered open, you were unsure of how many hours had gone by. It was still pitch-black outside, only the chirping of crickets breaking the quietness around you. The breaking of dawn still a few hours away, enough to paint a smile on your face at the realisation that you could sleep some more.

You nuzzled Acacius’ chest with your nose, inhaling deeply as your eyes slowly shut.

It was then that you noticed that you were almost on top of him: your cheek gently pressed against his sternum, your arm hugging his waist, your leg resting across his with your knee right on…

Your eyes shot open, quickly looking down, your senses flaring alive.

Your knee crammed right on his groin, softly pressing on his manhood as if that was where it belonged. He was hard. Asleep still, but his cock was wide awake. You could feel him pulse against your kneecap.

Your heart picked up a pace while a hot wave washed over you, slick starting to pool between your thighs and your nipples puckering against his ribs. A normal reaction, you told yourself, considering the position you were in.

One you shouldn’t be in. Conscious of your own bodily response, you sneakily tried to remove your knee from his growing bulge, biting down your bottom lip as your fingers sank in his right hip. But Acacius didn’t let you, his hand wrapping around the back of your knee and pressing it harder on his erection, a raspy grunt hitching somewhere in his throat.

You whimpered inaudibly; afraid he would fully wake. With his hand firmly holding your leg against him, there was no point fighting this need growing within you. His sleepy coercion was enough agreement.

With half-lidded eyes, lips flat in a pout, you began to gently rub your knee against the linen covering his cock, feeling it coming alive with every brush. His broad hand was still grasping around your knee, almost guiding you, showing you how to make him harder.

Acacius groaned above you, and you quickly glanced up at him — his brows pinched, but otherwise still asleep. You pouted in frustration, a thick slick trapped between your pussy lips. Damn you for getting horny right now, it was his fault really.

Gripping his hip, you pressed your body against his, to the point where your hot cunt was rubbing against the side of his thigh. Inevitably but carefully, you humped his thick thigh, your clit catching in your undergarment causing a delicious friction that sent a thunder up your spine.

This felt too good to be sinful. Your clit was writhing, pulsing for release, as you kept on buffing your pussy on him, while your knee kneaded his now throbbing bulge. Your breasts were sensitive, perked up nipples tracing invisible lines on his ribs. Your only regret was that both of you were still clothed — you needed the skin on skin to get off, to let go. Needed to feel him in all his glory, palm him attentively until he would come on your hand…

Acacius suddenly squirmed and you swiftly stopped everything, feigning to be asleep when his eyes opened.

Marcus stirred awake, his heartbeat so loud in his eardrums he could barely hear anything else other than the rush of blood. It took him a few seconds to catch on with his own body, to feel his throbbing cock fighting against its enclosure.

He was hard, the morning glory making its presence known. Only then did he realise the actual reason his dick was begging for release: he had grabbed your leg, fingers curled behind your knee, and had pressed it into his bulge until his cock was ready to unload.

Marcus froze in place, ashamed of himself, of using you in such wicked manner. But his stiffened erection clouded his mind, his judgement — he needed to move away from you before he came in his pants like a teenager.

Carefully he undraped your arm from across his waist and lifted your knee up, scooting to one side until he was out from underneath the skins. The cold air bit his bristling skin, a remarkable contrast with the heat on his groin. He looked back at you — peacefully surrendered to your slumber, expression sweet and relaxed, blissfully unaware of how close he’d been to spill.

He ran a hand down his face while the other rearranged his uncomfortable cock. For a moment he fisted himself, digits wrapping around his achy balls, before he decided to walk outside of the tent to get his shit together.

The road to Rome was going to be excruciatingly long, of that much he was sure.

The journey through the Alps took the good part of a week. Its rocky cliffs and treacherous paths needed to be treaded carefully. Acacius relied on you when going up the north face of the mountains, but on the descent he had more experience. You both worked together through the issues that arose, on calming down the horses whenever they got spooked.

It’d been a draining experience, but with the Alps on your back, you could breathe again. Temperatures had slightly gone up, so the last two nights had been more forgiving. Meaning, the physical gap between Acacius and you when you laid together at night had grown again.

You blamed it on the solitude — for the last ten days, Acacius was the only person you had spoken to, the only person you had seen. Perhaps it wasn’t long, but considering how closeknit your tribe was, this had been the longest you had gone without having your people around.

And, truth be told, he’d not been intrinsically bad with you. Yes, he’d hunt you down in the forest and brought you back to camp so you could be the next freak on display for the Roman mob, but from what you gathered, he was being bossed around by Caesar. You wondered what kind of relationship the two had — did Acacius feel indebted to the other man? Was that why he was doing Caesar’s dirty bidding?

You had dismounted your stallion and were guiding him to the nearest river, where Acacius’ stud was drinking. You left them alone as you walked back the few yards to where the General was setting up a small pyre for a fire.

“Is that wise?” you questioned, the spot you were in rather open.

“We are almost fifty milia passuum (Roman miles) west of Mediolanum (Milan). This land is ours, has been for more almost two centuries now. We have nothing to worry about here,” he explained matter-of-factly, unsheathing his sword and kneeling.

You watched him intently as he grabbed a quartz stone nearby, tested its weight and shape on his hand. Acacius began striking the steel of his gladius against the sharp edge of the rock with quick, powerful and deliberate downward motions. Sparks flourished, short-lived at first, dying off before landing on the dry tinder.

“Come over here,” he gave you a nod, then pointed to the pyre with his chin when you crouched down in front of him. “The moment a spark falls into the tinder, blow some light puffs of air onto the bundle.”

You shook your head in agreement and bowed down, ready to do your part. Acacius gave the steel a sharp hit, and a big spark ignited, falling like a feather into the wood. You blew air gently onto the red spot, and the fire slowly turned the wood to embers.

“Where are you from?” you asked with certain curiosity, hands extended in front of you to warm them up.

Acacius’ posture stiffened almost unnoticeably as he mindlessly nudged some of the glowing coal with the tip of his sword, eyes transfixed on the flames.

“My family come from the city of Barium (Bari) in the south. They worked the land,” he shared, scratching his beard. “I left home when I was just a lad, only returned a few times a year to help out with the farming.”

“How does the son of farmers end up being a renowned General at the head of a Roman legion?” you pressed with interest, a part of you wanting to get to know him, to see the real man behind the General.

“With blood, sweat and tears,” he retorted snappily, brows knitting together as if he had taken offense in your words.

You frowned, mildly confused by his reaction.

“What have I said to upset you?”

Your inquiry took him aback, and you assumed he thought he’d not been so obvious. But you were quick to pick up on people’s subtleties.

“Nothing,” you instantly cocked a brow. Acacius sighed, “I’m not ashamed of being the son of farmers. My parents were extremely hardworking people. But classism in Rome…” he shrugged, “…is ever so present. Some people are not being able to see past that. To them, I’ll always be a terrone. I guess I’m always on the defensive when the topic surfaces.”

“Terrone?” you asked, befuddled.

Acacius gave you a stern nod.

“It’s a derogatory term some people use to refer to those who work the land, typically in the south of the Republic. Like Barium, where I originally come from,” his dark gaze drifted up, locking with yours while red sparks danced between the two of you.

The intensity in his brown eyes held you down for an instant. He was sharing a piece of him with you, a vulnerability he didn’t show often. You could tell Acacius was battling with himself, divided between trusting you and knowing he shouldn’t.

You felt the urge to put his mind at ease, to somehow let him know you wouldn’t betray this shred of confidence. The Gods knew you didn’t owe this man anything — in any case, quite the opposite. But something about him, about his demeanour… Acacius wasn’t bad, not like the others.

Acacius was just a pawn who had become knight for the greater good, who lately had found himself with more blood on his hands than what his guilt-ridden conscience could handle.

You saw that hint in battle, his blows more defensive than offensive…

In how he’d spared your life before he knew who you were.

In how he cleaned the spit off your cheek, offered a joke or two to lighten the mood.

In how he stitched you up and let you use his bed while his back suffered on a chair.

In how he’d kept you warm throughout the harshest of nights.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” you hushed, eyes averted for a brief moment before you glanced up at him through your long eyelashes. “I am genuinely curious. It’s not every day that someone breaks the chains of society.”

Even in your culture, roles were profoundly embedded in society. Families born into guilds usually carried on with the legacy of those who preceded them. Rome wouldn’t be too different.

“Since a young age I knew I wanted to become a soldier. It always appealed to me, helping the Republic keep our people safe. The training makes you or breaks you, a lot of people drop out because of it. The sons of recognised Generals are trained since birth, and those who aren’t are in clear disadvantage. I used the long days in the farm as my training,” he spoke softly, eyes distant as he got lost in his own memories. “A few years into it, I met Gaius Julius Caesar. Took me under his wing, his family too, especially when my parents died and our farm burnt down, and I was orphaned. But I still had to work very hard to prove I was worthy. That every achievement was solely down to me, and not to the people I was associated with.”

You were so invested, you could almost picture a younger Acacius in front of you, warring against the tethers of society, making a name for himself. There was something really evocating, inspiring even, about his story of overcoming. And to lose his family in the blink of an eye, just like that, it had to be the hardest blow of all.

Had the fire not been between you, you’d reach for him and squeeze his forearm. But you didn’t, probably for the best.

“Is that why you feel… obligated to follow Caesar’s command?” you ventured, hugging your shoulders and rubbing the exposed skin.

“As I said before, it’s complicated. He’s the Proconsul, I’m not. The political climate in Rome is tense. The Senate and the Consuls fear a power grab. With the war with the Gauls coming to an end, Caesar believes that the Senate will rob him of his title and mandate him to disband his army,” he explained. “And if anybody knows Caesar as I do, he won’t surrender his power so easily.”

So conquering your land, massacring your people, was just a move from Caesar to seize more power. A pissing contest with the Senate. A game to that fucking bastard.

Was it a game to Acacius too?

“And where are you in this mess?” you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your tongue.

The General took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in his frame, while he poked at the fire with the sword.

“I have a job to do. I volunteered to come the moment Caesar put his proposition forward,” he shrugged, visibly uncomfortable with your prodding.

“Did you also volunteer to take me to Rome?” you lolled your head, eyes squinting.

“No,” Acacius grimaced. “Caesar asked me to.”

“Asked you? Or ordered you?”

“What’s the difference?”

“So loyalty doesn’t beget loyalty. Sounds like you’re just a pawn on his board. Dispensable,” you didn’t mean to offend, just state facts. “It seems to be a one-way relationship that does not really benefit you.”

“We should rest,” he said abruptly, standing to his feet and stomping out the fire. “Tomorrow we’ll head towards the Apuan alps so we can get to Florentia (Florence). It’s a newly founded garrison town. We should be able to find an inn there to spend the night and getting some proper warm food before heading towards Rome.”

You didn’t press, knowing that you’d given him enough food for thought. Not that you were going to change the outcome with your discourse, but at least you could make him see that being blindly loyal to someone would only mean his eventual demise.

But were you not blindly loyal to your people, your father? Wasn’t loyalty what brought you here?

Well. Fuck.

The word alps was triggering. Just when you thought you were done with rocky mountains…

“How long is this whole trip going to take?”

“To Florentia, I estimate six days. From there to Rome, it should be mostly flat, but still a stretch. Another five days, I wager,” he responded while veering around, heading towards the horses as he did every single night before going to bed. “Go get some sleep.”

“Your wish is my command, General,” you mumbled mockingly, getting up and sauntering towards the tent.

Six days? Six fucking days? Sure. More like fucking ten.

Acacius had been overly positive with his estimate. Although the Apuan alps were not as treacherous as the alps shielding the Republic from the neighbouring nations, it had been one hell of an expedition.

You’d even been attacked by a pack of hungry wolves. Acacius’ horse had been injured, then the man himself had taken a bite on his wrist that almost tore his thumb apart in his attempt to rescue his stud. It had been, by far, the most stressful days since you departed from your land over two weeks ago.

But now with the gates just a few yards away, the memory started to fade. The stone path beneath your stallion’s hooves announced your arrival to the guards posted on the front. The palisade was mainly of wood, but they had begun to replace sections of it with rock. The compound was surrounded by a moat, the drawbridge shut.

“Quis es (who are you)?” the sentinel shouted from his position on the palisade.

“Salve,” Acacius stopped in front of you, extending his arm with the palm down in greeting, “I am General Acacius, transporting a hostage to Rome under Caesar’s orders. I seek refuge in your garrison, some provisions and some rest, so we shall leave in the morrow to resume our travels.”

“Ordo (written order)?”

Acacius nodded, one hand rummaging through the saddlebag until he extracted a carefully rolled papyrus scroll.

“Lower the drawbridge, let General Acacius in,” the guard announced.

The hinges of the gate creaked horribly until the wooden plank bluntly kissed the ground. Acacius moved forward and you followed quietly, feeling a thousand eyes on you. A few miles back, Acacius had insisted on tying your hands to the saddle just for show, otherwise the legionnaires wouldn’t let you in.

The same sentinel had come down the palisade and Acacius handed over the papyrus. The man, with a weathered face and a nose more crooked than Acacius, unrolled the parchment and read it a few times. Once he was satisfied, he handed back the papyrus to Acacius and pointed forward.

“If you follow this path, you’ll find the inn,” then the guard gestured to another man, who quickly appeared in front of you and grabbed the reins of your horse. “The hostage will be held in the carcer (prison).”

Your widened eyes shot to Acacius in a panic. No way in hell he was going to let you sleep in a cell, right? Surrounded by enemies who would show you no mercy.

Your sights locked, Acacius’ darkened orbs squinting before he pulled from the reins of his monture until he and his horse shielded you, towering in front of the guard who had come forward to take you away.

“The hostage will be with me at all times. I am not to lose sight of her,” he almost barked at the sentinels, who quickly withdrew. “Those are my orders.”

A rush of relief coursed through your veins, your heartbeat calming down. When the guards returned to their positions, Acacius looked over his shoulder right at you and gave you a nod as if to ask, “are you alright?”

You ducked your head in reply before Acacius led the way to the inn.

The inn was a small sun-dried brick building with two levels, with a small stable on its side. It wasn’t too big, but the noise coming from the inside meant that it was probably packed. Acacius approached the stable lad and when he dismounted, you did the same. Both of you untied the saddlebags of your respective mounts.

“Here,” Acacius said to the boy, handing him two denarii. The boy’s bright eyes widened, looking at the coins in disbelief and then at him again, his cheeks sunk in his face. “Take good care of our horses. Mine’s injured, the wound needs to be taken care of regularly. Feed them, let them drink, give them a good brush. Alright?”

“Yes, of course, sir!” the lad almost screamed too enthusiastically, then grabbed the reins of both studs and disappeared inside the stable.

“That was a lot of money,” you noted as you both walked towards the door, your hands still tied.

“Did you see how thin he was? He didn’t look older than ten,” Acacius shrugged as he pushed open the doors and walked inside with you on his heels.

Your stomach twisted for a second — had he gone hungry in his childhood too? Had Acacius seen himself in that emaciated lad? Your heart shrunk a bit at the thought of a little Acacius begging for food on the streets before he decided to take charge of his future.

You couldn’t tell now if that had been his reality in the past — his shoulders broad, muscular arms and chiselled back. He’d done well for himself, even if it had been at the expense of others.

Shaking your head to come out of the trance, your hearing got hit with loud chatter. Wooden floor, adobe on the walls, and the furniture made of oak. The place was brimming with life, and Acacius had to slither through the crowd to reach the counter. He caught the attention of an older woman and exchanged some words you couldn’t hear at all. The Romans were fucking savages, so loud it was irritating.

“Come on,” Acacius whispered in your ear as he placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you through the crowd to the back of the inn.

There he opened a door, moved to a side to let you in first, and you walked up the creaky stairs. A minute later, a set of keys clinked on his hand and opened a smaller door. The inside of the room was rudimentary but had all the necessities. A chest of drawers, a fireplace that was already running, an empty wooden bathtub, a couple of chairs and a bed.

One bed. For one person.

You turned around to look at Acacius while he closed the door behind you.

“There’s only one bed,” you pointed out, brows pinching.

“I know. It’s the only available room they had left.”

“The only available room? So… we are supposed to share this one room? The both of us? One single bed?” You didn’t want to sound astonished, but you definitely were.

Acacius scoffed, taking a few steps forward to throw the saddlebag onto the bed.

“It’s not ideal. But we’ll have to make do.”

Perhaps you were unhappy with the situation, but you could tell he was not very excited about the prospect either.

Your sight moved to the bed again, dreading the night. Not because you thought it’d be uncomfortable, but because the night when you almost came humping his thigh was still too fresh in your mind. You were not sure you could spend another one like that, too horny to nod off.

“I’ve asked the owner to prepare you a hot bath. They’ll bring up boiled water in a few minutes,” he grunted, going through the saddlebag to grab some items.

“And you?”

“The River Arno is nearby,” he answered bluntly.

“It’s freezing outside,” you complained, although the idea of a hot bath did sound very appealing after your travels.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismissed your concerns, veering around to face you. “I’ll wait for the maids to bring over the water and then I’ll lock the door.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. You hadn’t even attempted to escape in two weeks, and you were so deep in Roman territory now, it was safer to remain by his side than trying to get back to your land.

“You heard what I told the sentinels. If they see me without you, they’ll question where you are,” he was quick to explain.

“I suppose that makes sense,” you grumbled, watching him approach you.

Acacius extended his hands toward you, his calloused fingers wrapping around your wrists, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was hot yet gentle. He was standing so close to you, you could smell him — sweaty and dirty, but so masculine you felt a pulse between your thighs.

You had to focus on taming your body’s reaction, pressing your knees together to contain the slick pooling in your pussy. Surely this could only be attributed to the fact that it had been a long time since you laid with a man.

Pouting as he undid the rope binding you, your eyes fixed on how his fingers untwirled the jute. Once freed, Acacius’ thumbs stroked the dents on your skin, smoothing them out, your hands gently resting on his palms as he soothed the redness away.

Your heart pounded against your chest so loud you wondered if he could hear it. With your mouth slightly parted, you looked up at him, your gazes crossing and locking. And for a moment, the whole world disappeared around you. You could only see his weathered features, the bushy beard and moustache framing those lips after weeks in the wilderness… And his eyes, darkened and lustful.

His orbs drifted down to your waiting mouth, heartrate spiking madly now. You were sure he was going to kiss you, the hunger and flickering desire in his irises told you as much.

Then a firm knock on the door snatched the moment away.

“We bring the water, General,” a soft female voice announced.

The icy water of the Arno should have put out the fire burning within him. But when he emerged from the river, he was still… hard.

It felt wrong, extremely wrong. You were his captive; a war prisoner being delivered to another man to do with you as he pleased. And despite how much Marcus hated Antonius’ brother, his hands were tied. He’d given his word to Caesar — a bow he could not break, not without fatal consequences for the both of you. Disobeying Caesar’s orders would be classed as treason. And traitors were not tolerated in the Republic.

Desiring you was so fucking wrong. Especially when he’d lied to you about your future in Rome, about what would be expected of you. His omission of the truth had rooted in your brain, brewing for so long now, he just couldn’t come up and tell you the truth. Perhaps it was better this way, so you would be at ease for as long as possible.

Brushing his hair back with his fingers, Acacius sighed heavily before bending down to grab his belonging off the ground. He put on a fresh subligaculum and then a simple linen tunic.

When he returned to the inn, he found two bowls with a steaming stew of meat and vegetables, some bread, a jug full of wine and two empty cups on a tray. He took it off the floor and knocked on the door, unsure if you would be clothed.

“Come in,” you shouted from the other end of the door.

Marcus unlocked the door and went in, turning around to put on the latch. When he veered to face you, you had some linen clothing on, the almost translucent fabric still clinging to your wet skin. Your legs were naked from the mid-thighs down, your bare feet tapping the wooden floor as you finished braiding your hair while sitting on a chair by the fire.

He couldn’t help himself but taking the sight of you in. You looked gorgeous with the glowing of the fire reflecting on your skin, a natural beauty with a fiery aura dancing around you. It wasn’t only that though — what he had seen of you as a person, Marcus liked too. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

A sudden throb invaded his groin when he realised your nipples were poking through the linen, the outline of your breasts shaped by the fabric stuck to your skin. Reining in the need to do something—anything—Marcus just stared at your silhouette.

“How was the dunking?”

Marcus shot his eyes to yours, afraid he’d been caught undressing you in his mind, devouring you. You had tilted your head to one side, studying him.

He steeled his posture, shook his head and put the tray down on the dresser.

“Good,” he grunted, an uncomfortable hardness taking over his cock. “Your bath?”

“Amazing,” you sighed with a smirk. “Is that food?”

Marcus nodded, passing you a bowl before he grabbed his and sat down on the other chair.

You ate in silence for the good part of half an hour. When you both were done, Marcus took the empty plates and goblets away, stacking them on top of the dresser. It was pitch-black outside, silent. Everyone had already left the inn.

“Right,” he mumbled. “You take the bed; I’ll make do with some skins by the fire.”

He was already by the saddlebags, grabbing all the animal skins to fashion a bed on the floor.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, standing up from the chair. “We can share the bed, Acacius. It’s not like we’ve been sleeping apart…”

When he turned to face you, you briefly bit down your bottom lip, your teeth sinking in the plushness the way he wanted his to dig in your lip. His resolution faltered when you clasped your fingers around his wrist and pulled, guiding him to the bed.

“Are you sure? It’s very small. We won’t fit,” he reasoned.

“It— We will fit,” you rasped, sitting on the bed.

He knew this was a bad idea, a really bad one at that, but his brain was numb. So he followed you.

You stirred in your sleep. Miraculously, you had managed to drift away even with Acacius hugging you tight from behind, ignoring the way your body screamed at you for not doing anything about it.

Your brows momentarily pinched in confusion when you sensed that there was no one behind you now, no arms draped over your frame pushing your back into his chest. You patted behind you to find an empty and cold spot.

Mildly disoriented, you sat up on the bed, rubbed your eyes and waited for your vision to adapt to the darkness, since the fire had already died out. Looking around, you found Acacius lying on the floor on top of some skins, facing towards the cold fireplace.

Was this man stupid? Had he waited for you to fall asleep to then go sleep on the fucking floor? He was more stubborn than you were. The sight made you mad, so much so you snatched the pillow your head had been resting on and threw it at him with force.

The moment the feathery pillow hit him, Acacius sat up very quickly, turning around with a bewildered expression.

“I thought we were under attack, dammit!” he growled at you.

“You are!” you screamed, grabbing the other pillow and tossing it at him.

This time, he dodged it. Infuriated, you gathered the bedlinen and pulled until it untucked from underneath the mattress, and you stood up with everything bunched up on your arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” Acacius husked out, visibly confused.

So stupid.

“Well, apparently we are sleeping on the floor now because someone thinks the bed is not good enough,” you grumbled, unceremoniously dropping everything in front of him.

“The bed is good enough, but I just couldn’t…” Acacius trailed off, and you looked at him with a cocked brow as you sat down in front of him. “I couldn’t fall asleep, didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Why?” you inquired, folding your arms below your breasts.

He cleared his throat, his eyes betraying him the moment they landed on your boobs.

Then you realised. Was he hard? Had sleep evaded him because he was too worried it would happen again? That he would unconsciously rub you against him? Because if that was the case… well, you had no complains.

“Never mind,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“I do mind,” because why fight what both of you wanted?

You shuffled around, kneeling and sitting back on your heels. Your hand landed on his powerful thigh, his muscles flexing under your touch. Your fingers slid up his inner thigh, dangerously close to his bulge.

“Careful there,” Acacius croaked, his fingers curling around your wrist to stop your advances.

Batting your eyelashes with a knowing grin, you moved your palm further up to where his leg joined his hip, your knuckles brushing the tent on his tunic. You leaned in, mouth hovering over his.

“Let’s stop pretending anymore, shall we?” you whispered, the plumpness of your lips caressing his as you spoke.

Before Acacius could reject you, your tongue prodded at his mouth, swiping his bottom lip. When he groaned, he gave you an opening — the moment his lips parted, you dove in. Your tongue finally met his, fighting one another as you breathed him in.

Acacius let go of your wrist, his hand flying to the back of your neck, holding you close as he plunged in, tasting you. You pushed your knuckles into his growing bulge and the General’s chest rumbled with satisfaction. That was your cue to spread your palm over his groin and knead it slowly.

He was big, girthy and hot. Your fingertips traced the shape of his cock over the textile, then cupped his balls and squeezed gently.

“Fuck,” Acacius moaned, and your pussy reacted with primal need.

You were drenched, the dampness your thighs harboured for him just grew. Your cunt ached for his touch, for the moment you’d been dreaming about for so long now.

Acacius must have read your mind, because his hands gripped your hips and manhandled you until you were sat on his lap, straddling him. He pushed you down, your clothed cunt stroking him — the outline of his throbbing cock softly pressing against your slit.

Draping your arms around his neck, you kissed him again, your hips swaying back and forth on top of him, causing much needed friction. Acacius palmed your ass, his fingers grabbing the flesh as he guided your moves.

“Undress,” he pleaded, raggedly breathing now.

With no shame, only desire, you leaned back a bit, grabbed the hem of your linen dress, and pulled the whole garment over your head. That was the only piece of clothing you had on, so when you casted it away, you were completely naked on top of him.

“Not even a loincloth on?” Acacius managed to sputter out, tipping his head forward until his face rested between your boobs, kissing your sternum. “And you were asking why I couldn’t sleep…”

You snickered, palm on the back of his head to press him onto your chest, fingers raking through his greying curls.

When Acacius kissed one of your taut nipples, your head tipped back, a moan bubbling up your throat as he worked your button expertly. At the same time, he pushed your hips back down, your bare pussy leaking and leaving a slick spot right on the linen covering his erection.

Scrubbing your pussy against him, your thudding clit catching on the fabric and his tongue working wonders on your nub, you didn’t think you’d last — a thunderous feeling shooting up your spine right from your core. Thighs trembling, you rode him dryly, imprisoning his head with your arms and ramming his face against your bosom.

Until you came. A moan filled your mouth and spilled over your lips, resonating between the adobe walls, as the fire in your drooling pussy reached its highest temperature. Warmth spread in all directions, your energy faltering as your hips stuttered. Acacius took the lead right then by grabbing a handful of your ass cheeks and sliding you back and forth on his lap until you were shivering above him.

“Did that feel good, hm?” he pecked your nipple before looking up at you.

His brown eyes had softened, enticing and indecent. You gave him a mindless nod, still feeling the throbbing of your pussy, as one of his hands left your buttock and navigated over the swell of your globe, reaching down.

His middle finger slipped easily along your glossy seam, from your gushing hole to your clit. Acacius petted it gently, pressing tight yet lazy circles as his palm cupped your cunt.

The fire within you was rising again.

“Acacius,” you groaned, your heart pulsing in your clit under his attention.

“Marcus,” he offered in a hush, lapping at the tip of your breast. “My name is Marcus. I want to hear you say it when you come again, sweetheart.”

The revelation was an intimate surprise, considering that Romans always referred to themselves by their cognomen, sometimes by their nomen and very rarely by their praenomen. But you didn’t dwell for long, his lone finger teasing your slick slit with a calmness you didn’t feel.

You pushed your ass back, your back arching and your face resting on the crook of his neck, when that same lonely digit traced the outline of your opening, taunting your faltering resolution as your mind went numb.

“You’re so wet, mel. So ready, so eager…” Marcus grunted, the first phalange going in and robbing you of a heavy sigh. “So tight and warm, welcoming even… You want this so badly, don’t you?” he asked for your reassurance and when you obliged with a shy nod, his finger buried down to the knuckle. “Oh, baby, so needy,” he tutted at you.

Wiggling your hips involuntarily, you forced his finger in and out of your leaking entrance, commending him to get on with it already. The General took the hint and began to finger you rather unhurriedly. The pad of his finger pressed on your inner wall as it slid in and out, picking up a pace.

By the time he inserted a second finger, you were already panting and squirming, throbbing for release. Marcus built up the pace gradually, until the palm of his hand was audibly slapping your perineum, and the squelching noises of your pussy filled the room.

There it was again: the spike in your heartrate, the maddening pulse in your clit and a tongue of lava seeping through his fingers, pooling on his covered cock.

“Marcus, fuck, I—” you hiccupped, nuzzling his jugular.

Acacius kissed your foreheard, a gentle gesture contrasting the relentless rhythm of his hand. “I know, corculum, I know. It’s too much for this sweet pussy of yours, isn’t it? Let go for me.”

At his command, you did, wailing his name with wanton abandonment while your pussy quivered around his meaty fingers, squeezing them in a tight grip as he curled them, pulling another orgasm from you.

Mind fuzzy, you kissed his pulse point, your fingers grabbing a fistful of the linen covering his chest, scrunching the fabric. Unclenching one hand, you flattened it on his tummy, pushing it down until you cupped his manhood over the tunic.

“Fuck me, Marcus,” you pleaded, tone tinged with longing whilst giving him a gentle squeeze.

Acacius growled at your not-so-subtle request, eager to get started. He helped you off his lap, standing up to remove the tunic, his subligaculum quickly following.

And there he was, towering above you, fully naked for the first time. He had several scars dotted around the map of his skin, gifts from the battlefield. But that wasn’t what caught your attention the most.

You gazed up at him in awe — his muscles sculpted, hugging him tight. Strong arms, veiny forearms, broad hands. Chiselled pectorals, a tense tummy although no marked abs, and then… a hairy trail running down from his belly button in a pronounced V line.

You followed the path of pleasure with your hungry eyes until they landed on his erection. He was as girthy as you had imagined, a good size, a throbbing vein feeding his cock on the underside. Some thick curls framed his dick, drawing your attention to the heavy balls underneath. And then the tip, angrily flushed and leaky with a pearl of precum topping it.

Your mouth watered at the sight in front of you. Still kneeling, pussy bewilderingly aching now, you leaned in for a kiss as one daring hand peeled his skin back completely to marvel at him in all his glory. Your lips pressed against his red mushroom head, fingers curled around his shaft with devotion.

You wanted to suck him off. The little taste on your mouth had you salivating, needy for something to keep you quiet. His musky scent had the world swirling around you, almost as if you were drunk.

Before you could part your lips to house him in your warmth, Marcus extended his left hand to you, palm up, the one that was still wrapped in a bloody linen cloth to protect the wound on his thumb.

With a little pout and some resignation, you took it careful not to inflict pain, springing to your feet. He didn’t speak, and neither did you, when he laced his fingers with yours and tugged at your hand. Marcus approached one of the chairs with you in tow, sat down and manspread. You were quick to understand, climbing onto his lap like the floor was lava.

“You are so beautiful, feel so good,” he muttered, lapping at the flesh of your boob while his hands settled on your hips. “And I know you’re going to feel even better riding me, sweetheart. Look even more gorgeous.”

Your cunt gushed at his words, rearing to come. When he aligned his tip with your entrance, you whimpered in need, the intimate kiss on your core driving you mad.

“Impale yourself. Show me how much you want this, mel,” he almost begged, voice throaty.

You didn’t need any further persuasion. Grabbing his pulsing shaft, you held him in place whilst sinking slowly. His cockhead slid in easily and the next few inches quickly followed. His dick stretched your walls apart, blessing you with a delightful burning as you buried his cock in your pussy down to the hilt.

You moaned to the heavens once he was fully seated. You felt so full, he was staggeringly omnipresent inside you. All your senses flared alive, so much it was almost overwhelming.

Marcus had tipped his head back — his jaw almost dislocating as he groaned, fingers digging at your hips, leaving his imprint behind. You blinked rapidly to clear your eyes from their glossiness, raked your fingers through his hair and tugged at it so he would open his eyes and look at you.

The moment your sights locked in, a strange warmth spread through your chest. Despite your dire situation, you felt safe with him, at ease. Regardless of what the future held for you, at least you would have this memento to think back to. This brief crack in time, when nothing nor no one else mattered.

“You’re handsome, Marcus. And very gifted,” you giggled, trying to put behind those thoughts now.

You cradled his face and kissed him exaggeratedly slow, your hips leisurely moving back and forth. Soon enough, you were riding him with all your might, the slapping of skin on skin ricocheting in a sinful cacophony. Up and down, back and forth — your hips didn’t miss a spot in your pussy left untouched by Marcus’ cock. You were so wild, you had to grip the arms of the chair until your knuckles ran white.

Acacius held your breasts throughout, pinching your nipples from time to time, latching onto them when your untamed rhythm allowed. Chasing the highest of highs, you felt the climax building up — a pulsating fire growing in your lower belly, your pussy trembling around his girth, swallowing him whole while your juices soaked him.

“I’m so close, s-s-s-o… fucking… close…” you mewled, your brows knitting together in concentration.

Marcus jumped into action to help you get there. His right hand darted between your bodies, middle and ring fingers flicking your throbbing clit as you rode him. Then your nub caught between his fingers — the pressure, the friction and the gentle fondling tipping you over the edge of your orgasm.

That was the last straw for your nervous system. You started coming, wailing his name as your whole body quaked above and around him. Your glistening cunt clamped down around him like a vice, squeezing him so tight you thought you would harm him. Your breathing quickened to the point of burning as you crashed down from your climax.

Quietly, you glanced down at him. Marcus’ jaw was so tight, you feared he might break a tooth. His cock was throbbing so hard, you knew he was close to release but didn’t want to come yet. You bowed down for a kiss, and the General eagerly reciprocated, his dick still cozily warm and hard inside you.

Some tears had escaped your eyes, wetting your cheeks, due to the intensity of it all. Marcus brushed them away before cupping your ass cheeks and standing up. He held you, pressed against his chest, and you draped your legs around his waist, so the intimate contact of your sexes would not break.

He walked a few steps, and then unceremoniously dropped you on the bed. The wooden plank beneath the feathery mattress squeaked loudly, but you could only focus on him. On his darkened eyes feasting on you.

The cold air nipped at your bare, sweaty body, your nipples perking up. You covered them with your palms, spreading your legs to welcome him again.

That was all confirmation Marcus needed from you — he grabbed your ankles and pulled, your ass on the edge of the mattress, and he dove in your pussy in one energetic thrust. Wrapping your legs around him again, you let him set the pace this time.

Acacius sank his knees on either side of you and blanketed your frame, your chests flush, only your hands in between as you cupped your breasts. He dug his elbows around your head and pumped into you with sharp, deep strokes at first. Every time he slid out and back in, you gasped, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Then the pace picked up and Marcus began railing you like a man possessed on the worn mattress.

He was in so deep, you could feel him nudging your cervix. First painful, but then a welcome kiss every time his thick tip stroked the very centre of your being. Marcus pumped in and out of your spent pussy in quick succession, resting his sweaty forehead on yours, his dampened curls caressing your skin.

It was too much. The feelings, the overstimulation, the constant hammering… For a brief second, you looked down and saw his cock plunging in and out, your cunt sheathing him like he belonged… like he owned.

“I don’t think I can come again,” you stammered, your whole body shaking under him. “Marcus… by the Gods I swear…” you sobbed, tears brimming again.

“Of course you can, mel. You will,” the resolution in his hoarse voice left no room for doubt.

The General bit your chin, the sensitive spot on your neck, then your earlobe, all the while fucking into you with renewed vigour. He was everywhere there was to be, a hand slithering down your belly to pet your unattended clit again.

You fell apart even when you thought you couldn’t give him one more. You came again, for the fourth time tonight. Creaming around his hard cock, you cried his name, a lewd melody ringing in his ears. If you had looked down, you would have seen the white rings of your pleasure pooling at the base of his manhood, but you were too focused on taming your beating heart.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful when you come, so blissed out,” Marcus pecked your wet cheek. “Where?”

For a heartbeat the question didn’t register in your mushy brain, so fucked out into oblivion your limbs felt like putty. His shaft pulsed extremely hard inside you, announcing his imminent orgasm. So he repeated again, this time more aggressively, “Where?”

“Mouth. My mouth,” you barely husked out. “I want to taste you. Fully taste you.”

Before he spilled inside you, Marcus pulled out rather harshly, standing up. You sat up on the bed, still feeling dizzy from your climax, and palmed the back of his thighs to push him towards you.

His cock was soaked, the thick curls all dampened and dripping with your shared arousal. Parting your lips, you welcomed his tip in the warmth of your mouth, just as you had desired not that long ago. You suckled on his palpitating cockhead while he stroked himself. Swat his hand away so you could push his length all the way down in your throat.

He tasted so manly, so musky, your head spiralled out of control as you sloppily slurp around his girth. Saliva, your slick coating him, and precum pooled in your hollowed cheeks until it all overflowed, dripping off the corners of your mouth.

A guttural groan and a hard pulse later, Marcus finally came. His white, warm seed hit the back of your throat in thick ropes, his taste bewildering as he emptied his nuts in your mouth. You milked him dry until the last drop spurted out his slit, and then you kept on going.

In a trance, you sucked him off until his cock softened on your tongue. And only then, you let go of him, gulping down his spent like it was a secret treasure. A trophy.

You fluttered your damp eyelashes to get rid of the tears and glanced up at him shyly.

His warm palm cradled your cheek, and you nuzzled against it, satisfied and content. His right thumb swiped your tears away again before he settled down on the bed, dragging you to rest on his chest.

Neither of you said a word — there was no need to speak after that.

But did he fuck you again?

Yes, he did. Two more times. Until both of you were utterly spent and couldn’t thread two thoughts together.

Every night that followed, Marcus spent hugging you and fucking you into oblivion. The dreadful cold nights out in the wilderness again were still relentless, but now they were warmer as long as he had your naked body pressed against his.

It was wrong of him to take advantage of you this way. In the moments of weakness after you blissfully fell asleep, he’d question himself. Told himself he was a monster for letting you believe that your life in Rome was going to be somewhat untroubling.

But he was now so down deep in the lie, he couldn’t tell you the truth. Marcus feared you’d curse him to death, that you’d try to escape once you learnt what was expected of you. How you’d question his true intentions if you knew of his rivalry with Gaius Antonius.

He’d even question himself on that too. Was he losing himself in you every night as a “fuck you” to Gaius? Because he’d had you before the other man did?

Or did he indulge in the pleasure you offered because… he actually liked you? Did he chase another high and did he chase the warmth growing in his heart every time you came apart with him, for him?

Guilt ate at his conscience. He was a damned man either way. Marcus couldn’t have you even if he really wanted to take you home with him. He was under oath, he’d promised you to the man he hated most. Going back on such promise would mean treason. And Rome did not tolerate traitors. Caesar would not tolerate traitors. And Marcus well knew what the punishment for such treachery was.

Death.

The word lingered in his mind as he unknowingly embraced your sleepy form tighter. Despite how much he wished and hoped for a different outcome, the truth was his hands were tied before he knew you.

A pawn. That was what you had called him. He truly was a dispensable tool. It didn’t matter how far back his history went with Caesar, how hard he’d worked for his station, how many unthinkable acts he’d committed for the glory of Rome.

The truth was… he was no one. Especially if he bit and betrayed the hand that fed him.

But… were you worth the risk? He would never know. Such leap of faith for someone he’d just met a month ago was too reckless.

And besides, you probably didn’t feel that way, just wanting to enjoy your last few days of freedom. He could ask you, Marcus thought, but what was the point of meddling with a perfectly working symbiosis? Why destroy the last remnants of peace you both could have?

Needless to say, sleep evaded him for the rest of the night, his intrusive thoughts haunting him till dawn.

You stirred awake not long after, turning around in his embrace, your face buried in his chest. After pressing a soft kiss on his skin, your eyelashes fluttered, revealing your bright orbs to him. A warm smile promptly took over your lips.

“Good morning,” you whispered, your lips pecking his chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Morning, beautiful,” he muttered, mouth brushing your forehead. “Yes, I did. You?” he lied through his teeth.

“Like a log,” you smirked at him, and then stretched your back with an exaggerated yawn.

“Tonight we’ll arrive in Rome,” he hated to bring up the subject, especially now when doubt still nagged at him. “But since it’s quite early and it will only take us a couple of hours on horseback, I was thinking… that maybe I could show you something?”

Your worried look quickly transformed into excitement. You threw off the pile of animal skins and blankets that kept you both warm and jumped to your feet, dressing yourself.

“Is that a surprise, Acacius?” you taunted him, the tip of your tongue peeking through your teeth.

“Perhaps,” he couldn’t help but grin, your easy demeanour casting away his worries. “Let’s break our fast first and then I’ll show you.”

Soon after that, you were both sharing some wine, cheese and bread that Marcus had bought yesterday when you stopped in Vetus Urbs (Viterbo) for provisions. The birds were chirping nearby, a light breeze weaving through and rustling the leaves of trees. Just a few yards away, the vast Lago di Bracciano (Lake Bracciano) extended to the horizon, with calm and blue waters.

He could tell you were eager to get started with the day, because you finished your food quickly and then scooted over to his side. He checked the wound in your shoulder, the one he himself had inflicted. It still gnawed at him, being responsible for causing you harm. As if to erase his wrongdoing, Marcus bowed down and brushed your now healed lesion with his lips.

You sighed in contentment, ready for your turn.

Marcus let you grab his left hand. For the past few days, every day after breakfast, you would reciprocate and unravel the cloth covering his hand, inspecting the wound. It hadn’t festered thanks to your diligent efforts to help him keep it clean. The torn flesh around the injury was healing nicely, although it would leave a scar behind. Not that he minded, another one added to the collection. One to remember your little trip together.

You poured some wine on the wound, then some water from the lake. But when you were about to wrap it with clean linen, Marcus shook his head.

“We are going in the water, don’t want to get it wet,” he explained, standing up to his feet.

“In the water?” you barked, bunching up your eyebrows. “Are you mad? Do you know how cold it is?”

“I know. But it will be worth it, trust me,” he winked at you, a sly smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

Under your attentive watch, he removed all his clothes, folding the items neatly and putting them down on a rock. The cold air nipped at his skin, but he didn’t mind — if anything, Marcus welcomed the bitter cold. Considering how hot he’d burnt last night with you in his arms, he needed to cool down a bit.

Marcus rotated on his heels, gazing you up. Still clothed.

“Are you not coming then? I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You huffed and puffed, your lips pouting as you removed your garments. “It better be.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, he tugged at you, slamming your bare body against his chest. You felt too good in his arms, soft and warm despite your cold bristling skin. Marcus leaned in for a gentle kiss, almost a puritanical peck, before walking towards the water. He tiptoed on the edge, testing the temperature, and then plunged in. His head disappeared momentarily under the water, and then resurfaced for a gasp of air.

You were on the shore, hugging your shoulders, so beautiful you looked like Venus herself. That was probably a heresy, but Marcus didn’t care — you had no comparison in his eyes. Your body was a place of worship, but the caring personality behind the façade was a sacred temple.

So, why was he secretly planning on desecrating his house of worship, you? He was a heartless, selfish bastard.

“Come,” he offered you his hand, which you swiftly accepted, joining him in the water.

You shivered, teeth chattering, and shot him an untrusting glare. “Okay, so here I am. What’s the surprise?”

He laughed at your eagerness to get out of the water, shook his head too.

“So impatient, mel. We have to get there yet,” he pushed you further into the water, following. “You see that dent in the rock over there? It leads to an underwater cave.”

“Diving? Nuh-uh, you’re trying to kill me!” you shouted in jest, a playful glimmer in your eyes.

“Just follow me, will you?”

With that said, Marcus swam towards the rock that was inaccessible from the shore. He made sure you were right behind him, and when you got to where he was, he grabbed your hand and dove.

The dive only lasted a minute or two, soon reappearing in the underwater cave. It wasn’t too big, around fifty square meters. Stalagmites hung from the ceiling, droplets eroding the rock underneath. It was peacefully quiet, only the gurgling of water breaking the silence. A crack in the ceiling allowed a lonely sunray to illuminate the cave.  The walls of the cave were covered with colourful seashells and starfish, this little paradise brimming with life despite how isolated it was from the outside world.

Marcus climbed out of the water and helped you up onto the slimy rock.

“Careful, don’t slip,” he warned, holding you by your waist.

“Good heavens, it’s steaming in here!” you exclaimed, the thick humid air almost making it impossible to breathe properly.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he hugged you to his side, pointing at the two bubbling pools, one deep and one shallow, in the middle of the cave. “It’s a geyser. This lake formed on top of a volcano, which has been inactive for centuries now, but the warmth and lava below ground has created several hot springs around the lake.”

“Marcus, this is beautiful, thank you for taking me here,” you turned around in his half embrace to kiss him, paced and sweet. “Let’s go!”

Marcus almost had a heart attack when he saw you slipping on the edge of the rock, but in the last second you managed to keep your balance before graciously jumping into the water.

When your head emerged, he was able to breathe again. You looked so carefree, enjoying and living in the moment, it tugged at his heart.

“This is fucking amazing, the water’s so hot. Come join me, please!” you splashed the water, a small wave coming at him, wetting his feet.

Marcus happily obliged and dove in immediately after.

For two hours, you swam around or perched yourselves on the rocky shore, relishing this precious moment. And when the subtle dance of your bodies became too apparent, you joined each other’s company on the shallow pool, only a few inches of water lapping at you both. Marcus took you in his arms, nestling you down on the smooth rocks, while he coaxed your thighs apart for him, exposing your core to his attention. Soon enough he was rutting into you, not maddingly but lovingly, showing you how much he wanted this moment to last. How much he wished you both could stay here forever, far away from responsibilities and honour.

You draped your legs around his waist, taking him in as deep as possible, sheathing him tightly. Your hiccups soon turned into full-blown moans, shattering around him, clenching and gushing, while he fucked you through your orgasm. With the last remnant of decency, Marcus managed to pull out of you, his load messily landing on your lower belly.

You giggled, giddy and satisfied, before you both were at it again, working together towards another climax, both of your moans and groans echoing in this tranquil oasis.

When you both were totally spent, you just laid there to gather some strength and return to the real world. It was obvious neither of you wanted to leave, this quiet retreat would be your secret. The places your minds would escape to when your bodies couldn’t.

Grudgingly, you dove together and reappeared on the other side, swimming back to shore.

In silence but both smiling, you walked out of the water.

In the dead quiet of the cave, Marcus had made up his mind. He had to say something, explain to you what was going to happen, and how much he regretted not being able to do something about it. You deserved the truth, even though it meant breaking the trust between you. Even if it meant letting you go now. Perhaps you’d forgive him, perhaps you’d understand that he had no say in the matter. Perhaps...you’d see he truly cared for you.

When you were both fully clothed, Marcus turned around to face you, anxiety spiking in his heart and mind to unknown levels, throat closing up with fear.

“Listen, mel, I need to tell you som…”

“General Acacius, how great it is to see you,” a grave masculine voice suddenly interrupted him.

With his heart crammed into his throat, Marcus veered around.

Gaius Antonius was standing right in front of him atop a brown horse, one of his men right behind him, with a nasty smile showing his crooked teeth.

The shift in the atmosphere was palpable. Since that man and his guard had interrupted, Marcus had gone quiet. It was pretty obvious from his body language that Acacius didn’t stand the man in front of him. His shoulders had squared, neck tense and jaw very clenched. It almost looked like Marcus was going to punch the man with no warning, but thought better of it.

Even after they left, the General didn’t dare look in your direction. It didn’t matter how much you tried to get him to talk back, he just didn’t.

So riding quietly besides him gave you plenty of time to sink in your thoughts and dwell in the little words the two men had exchanged.

“I’m looking forward to get a taste of my gift,” the Roman you came to know as Gaius Antonius had said, his cruel eyes flickering to yours briefly.

Something in his dead orbs sent an unpleasant shiver down your back. His features were not easy to look at and his physique was too imposing, bald, tall and extremely built — he reminded you of the one-eyed monsters the old druidesses of your tribe would talk about to scare the kids away from real danger.

You had felt very uncomfortable in his presence, to the point where you had hidden behind Acacius so Antonius would stop gazing you up.

His words still rang in your ears, a dark omen settling in the pit of your stomach. Why had he looked at you directly when he had said “my gift”? Now that the fear was almost forgotten, you just remembered he had also winked at you before licking his lips obscenely.

Your heart jolted in your chest, belly churning at the thought taking form in your head.

No, it can’t be. Marcus wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t bring you to be entertainment for a specific man, not a pastime for a crowd.

Marcus would have told you if that was the case — you two had shared enough time together, built rapport. In the last few weeks, you’d also seen a side of him that was very appealing to you, a version of him you wouldn’t mind getting to know better. His kind, playful side, the one that cared for you and your wellbeing. The one, you thought, that perhaps felt for you the same way you did for him.

With how close you two had become, Marcus wouldn’t betray you like that, wouldn’t sell you out to another man as if you were a plaything he could discard. He’d said you were going to be paraded around like a savage animal so the townspeople would see an untamed wildling for the first time. And as vile as it sounded, it wasn’t the worst-case scenario for someone like you, so even though it wasn’t great, you’d accepted the idea.

No, he didn’t say that. I did. And he didn’t confirm nor deny it. You’d been too drunk to see it then.

Your eyes widened with horror as your heart climbed up your throat, a landslide of panic coursing through your veins.

“Marcus—” you muttered with a trembling voice, even your hands holding the reins were shaking.

“We’re here,” he cut you off, still avoiding your sight.

Your eyes darted down the path, a huge gate with columns framing it right in front. It was tall, with men posted to either side of the arch, wearing full, bright armour and helmets.

A frightening feeling of doom, of plain claustrophobia, took hold of your soul. It was as if walls were closing in around you, confining you to a tiny space. Deep breaths were not helping either, if anything they made everything worse.

“Marcus, please, listen—”

“We’ll talk after leaving the horses in the stables. They are really tired and mine needs his wound to be looked after,” again, he interrupted you.

A burning sensation went up your neck, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill. Holding onto the last remnant of hope, you pushed all the emotions down — you still trusted Marcus, despite how distant he felt right now.

Ten minutes later, you both dismounted the stallions, removed the saddles and the bridles. It was dark and it reeked of nature, but you were too anxious to wait any longer.

As Marcus attempted to turn around and leave, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled from him to stop him in his tracks.

“You said we could talk now. Please,” you almost begged, your low tone almost breaking in the last word.

With a heavy sigh, Marcus faced you. His eyes, bright before, were now of an opaque brown shade. If regret had a colour, it would be exactly the same as his irises. His lips were furrowed into a pout, his brows pinching with loud concern.

And when your eyes finally locked, you knew. You knew you were not overthinking the situation — it was exactly like it seemed.

“No,” you husked out, letting go of his wrist as if his skin burnt yours, your hand flying to your face to cover your mouth. “No. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he gritted out, averting his eyes with visible remorse.

Was the bastard really pleading ignorance? Was he such a coward, he wouldn’t tell you himself? After everything you’d gone through and shared? After so many long, cold nights spent in his embrace? Did any of that mean anything to him?

Apparently not.

“Why am I here? I’m not here to be a hostage kept in a cage, am I?” your voice was barely audible as you tried your best to contain the angry tears.

“No,” Marcus paused after his whisper. “You’re here to be married off to Marcus Antonius’ brother, Gaius. You’re a gift to the Antonius family, to keep Caesar’s allies happy.”

The explanation fell on you like icy water. Even your heart had stopped beating, your lungs vacating all oxygen within them in a painful exhale.

This couldn’t be happening. Acacius couldn’t be this heartless and cruel. Had he been faking all along just to gain your trust, to make you feel comfortable in his presence? How could he kiss you, make love to you every night, knowing that to him you were just cargo?

And then, the prospect of bedding that man… Vile rose up your throat — you were sure you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. He looked like a brute, cruel and dominant. And although you had a strong spirit, even the best soldiers ended up succumbing to the crushing force of bestiality.

“Did you know?” you begged of him, hugging yourself. “Did you know the plan all along?”

Finally, his expression folded — his cloudy eyes were bright with unspent tears, lips pressing into a sad pout. He moved towards you, hands extended to hug you, but you quickly retreated. You couldn’t have his hands on you, you needed to focus.

“I did,” he replied, dropping his hands when he read your body language. “I did, and I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, I was going to… But…”

“But what?!” you screamed, the dam holding your tears breaking. A trickle of droplets cascaded down your cheeks, shouting again, “but what, Marcus?!”

“But I was afraid you’d leave. I’ve grown fond of you, I really have. I didn’t want to lose you, at least not yet. This morning, before Gaius arrived, I was going to tell you, give you a way out…” Marcus combed his unruly curls back with his fingers, obviously desperate for you to understand.

“Were you?” you mocked him with a sneery laugh, sweeping the tears off your cheeks. “Sure you were. So why didn’t you when they left, huh?”

“We were being followed, mel. They never left,” he reasoned. “That’s why I didn’t talk to you. Gaius and his henchman were watching us. I didn’t want him to think that… there is something between us.”

“There was,” you immediately corrected him, despite the instant hurt showing in his eyes. “There was something between us, Acacius. Not anymore.”

It broke you saying such a thing, especially when his words had filtered through, making you consider his truth. But even if he wasn’t lying, it wouldn’t change a thing. You were still here, delivered to a man who would destroy you and your soul.

“You have every right to feel that way, I understand, but please—”

“No, I’m done listening to your lies. You’re a coward, Acacius. A fucking pawn. The day you realise how dispensable you are to your fucking precious Caesar, you’ll have no one by your side. He’ll discard you just like you’re discarding me now, when you become an inconvenience,” you snarled at him, your pain speaking for you.

You wanted him to hurt more than you were right now. If his downcast features were any indication, he probably was. But he deserved every fucking word you threw at him. He’d betrayed you like no one else had before. You thought he was different, that he was good.

How wrong you were.

“I know, mel. I do know. But please let me explain—”

“General Acacius,” a deep voice interrupted your argument, both of you straightening your backs as if nothing of importance was happening.

Three guards had entered the stables and were right behind you. One of them grabbed your elbow rather harshly, almost tripping you over.

“The hostage needs to be readied to formally meet Antonius. We are taking her now,” the same man spoke.

A myriad of emotions ran through Marcus’ face, a full range of regret, grief and sadness. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he truly cared for you. That this was breaking his heart as much as it was crumbling yours. You felt stupid for holding to a shard of hope, but you forced yourself to let go of the illusion.

General Acacius was like any other man — evil, greedy, heartless.

“Hope the gold is worth the pain,” you whispered, almost mouthed the words so only he could listen. “Take me away from here,” you told the guards.

When they hastily turned you around to drag you out of the stables, you didn’t look back, didn’t put up a fight either.

Only when you were thrown in an unknown, empty room, you allowed yourself to cry your eyes out and bang the walls of your enclosure, damning the man who brought you here.

He’d been witnessing your spiral into hell for weeks now. How the light abandoned your eyes, dull and devoid of any emotion. How your skin was coloured with fresh bruises every day, the ones around your neck more visible than others. He knew for a fact that Gaius would put a chain around your throat, the atrocious man bragging about it in front of him every chance he got.

How you would avert your eyes, evading his every time he tried to make visual contact with you. As if he was dead to you, rightfully so.

And with every encounter, his resolution faltered, and his heart chipped some more. Marcus blamed himself — for lying to you, for not being brave enough, for not setting you free when he had the chance, for not fighting for you, for not stopping the guards from taking you away from him. He saw in you all the failures he’d done, all the pain he’d caused. And it was eating him alive.

How badly he wished to travel back in time, to prevent all this from happening. But he couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t mend the harm his inaction had brought about.

Marcus couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand by, seeing your soul slowly die. He was a fucking coward, you were right — too afraid to lose his station because all the effort and sacrifices would have been for naught.

But at what cost? He couldn’t lose you, although deep down he knew he already had. What a sick bastard he was.

“General Acacius,” Marcus Antonius greeted him. “Caesar sends his congratulations, the gold for your successful will be delivered to you tonight.”

He’d been focused on you for so long, the chatter of the hall had dropped to background noise. The room in the Antonius household was packed as people feasted and drank, celebrating the return of Marcus Antonius’ legion.

Marcus gave the General a stern nod, bringing the wine cup up to his lips to avoid talking. His throat felt dry with shame. No amount of coin was worth your suffering.

Antonius lingered; some small talk being exchanged although Marcus barely paid any attention to the man. When the other General tired of his unresponsiveness, he moved on to speak to his brother.

His chest burnt at the sight of Gaius. Marcus hated himself but despised Gaius even more so. How could have he delivered you to him despite knowing how brutal he would be with you?

“Go get me some more wine from the cellar, slave,” Gaius snapped at you.

You swiftly left his side, turning the corner into a corridor.

This was his chance.

Marcus slithered through the crowd like a snake ready to bite, leaving his empty cup behind. When he reached the hallway you had disappeared into, Marcus checked over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows.

A staircase at the end of the corridor spiralled down into the underground, and he walked down the steps, pushed the heavy door and entered the cellar.

The room was lighted by some lit torches on the wall, the sweet scent of wine filling the room. As his eyes adapted to the almost darkness, Marcus scanned the place.

A quiet sob betrayed your presence. Sauntering, he found you in a corner, bloodshot eyes welling up as you hugged yourself.

He stood there, right in front of you, like a scarecrow. Frozen with guilt, unable to decide what to do, what to say, to soothe you. But when you looked up to him through your damp eyelashes, you made the decision for him.

You lurched forward into his chest, and Marcus instantly wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close while you cried your sorrows in the crook of his neck. His heart was pounding so wildly, he feared he might drop dead at any second. Finally, Marcus found his hoarse voice, whispering soothing words while stroking your hair.

The fact that you went to him so eagerly, so uninhibited, broke his heart some more, the edges cracking and collapsing into itself. He didn’t deserve to hold you, to calm you, when he was the only reason you had been suffering unimaginably for this long.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, throat clamping down, tears threatening to fall. “I am truly sorry for being a coward, for not choosing you when I could. I was so afraid of the repercussions, of losing everything I worked so hard for…”

Marcus forced in a deep breath, the tears falling free at last. You were still sobbing, now more audibly so, and when you unglued your face from his neck to look up at him, Marcus’ breath hitched somewhere in the back of his throat. The state of you, up close, was… gut wrenching. Bruises, some fresh lacerations, but what gnawed at him the most was how lifeless you looked, so drained of purpose, of wit.

“I know it means nothing now, but I love you. From the moment I set eyes on you in that forest for the first time. And it’s taken me a shamefully long time to realise that,” because one didn’t know what they had, until they lost that one person who brightened their dark days. “You should have shot me an arrow, kill me on the spot, and you wouldn’t have suffered this much because of me.”

It felt like an empty, meaningless confession. No number of words could mend the havoc of his doing, the wounds of your heart. Only actions could.

“I know I have no right to ask, I lost that privilege the moment I lied to you. But… if you were to take me back, I’d take you away tonight, now. Damn, even if you don’t take me back, just say the word… I’d make sure you’d leave here tonight,” he husked out, heart in a fist.

You didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. Your eyes studied his face, weighing your options. And he hoped you’d take up his offer, regardless of your feelings for him. Marcus would risk everything to right the wrong he’d caused.

“You lied to me. You let them take me away,” you sobbed, furrowing your eyebrows. “You just stood there… have been standing there in front of me for weeks… and you did nothing…”

It wasn’t accusatory, you were just stating the facts. Ones he couldn’t and wouldn’t fight you back on, because you were right.

“I did. I don’t have any excuse to offer for my behaviour other than I’m just a stupid coward.”

“You are…” you trailed off, but didn’t lean back away from him, staying still in his embrace. “But you’re here now,” you swept away the tears, some determination returning to your eyes. “You were too scared, and I was too proud. While I don’t condone you lying to me, I can see why you would. Your hands were tied as much as mine. And with Gaius and his henchman following us all the way from Bracciano to Rome… there truly wasn’t a way out there where both of us left unscathed.”

Marcus’ heart had stopped pumping blood the moment you started talking. He could honestly not believe his ears. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, not after how badly he’d handled everything. It just felt damn wrong.

“While it might take some time for me to forgive, if I ever fully can do so, I do understand the situation you were in,” your bottom lip trembled, your words choking out.

“Oh, mel,” with tears in his eyes, Marcus dropped his hands from your shoulders. “I don’t want you to forgive me, I deserve every ounce of resentment. I deserve your hate.”

“I don’t hate you, Marcus. I love you and that’s what’s made everything way worse,” a feeble, tiny smile curled your lips whilst your delicate fingers wrap around his wrist. “And if you do love me back as you say… take me away from here, please. I can’t take it anymore. He will… he will break me for good if I stay.”

His heart jolted. He truly wasn’t deserving of you, of your love. Not after everything he’d done — or didn’t do. Closing the gap, Marcus hugged you again, pressing a soft kiss on the crown of your hair, allowing himself to inhale your sweet scent.

“I’m getting you out of here tonight.”

Marcus had kept his promise. He’d broken you free of the Antonius’ household that same night through an underground tunnel that connected the cellar to a nearby temple. The religious servants that worshipped Mars had left for the night, so escaping had been relatively easy.

Leaving Rome, however, had been a totally different matter. It was obvious that Gaius had noticed your absence, because the next morning a small entourage of legionnaires accompanied your captor to Marcus’ home. Luckily, Marcus had seen it coming and instead of going home with you, you both stalked out his place from an empty house nearby.

You had to wait till nightfall to flee, grabbing some indispensable belongings and also Marcus’ gladius, bow and arrows. Going northwards to your homeland was out of the question, given that Gaius and his brother would expect exactly that. So with a heavy heart, you accepted that you’d never return to the place you were born. Instead, Marcus had suggested to travel southwards to his hometown, Barium.

It had taken you five days to get there, feet swollen and exhausted from so much walking. Circumventing the town, you had reached Marcus’ family home. The farm had been abandoned, vines growing on the burnt façade of the small two storey farmhouse. The fences were destroyed, thick and lush vegetation taking over the farmland surrounding the building.

When you first landed eyes on the dilapidated house, Marcus’ face had torn with sadness. He didn’t speak as he approached cautiously and neither did you, giving him time to process. It had to be really hard seeing his childhood home crumbled down to its foundations, a pool of happy memories long forgotten coming back.

He showed you around, the inside of his home as bad as it looked on the outside. It was obvious people had taken the last possessions of his family, leaving behind the things that were not salvageable after the fire. The walls were still black with soot and ash, some parts of the ceiling had collapsed, the thick wooden beams becoming dust the moment you touched them.

The house was destroyed, the land barren. And Marcus stood there — steadfast, impassible. Or, at least, trying to contain the emotions running wild through his tired features.

Despite his betrayal, his lies… you felt for him. The first few days in that cell after the guards had taken you away left you with too much time in your hands. Time to overthink, to analyse, to worry yourself to death. In the end, you had come to realise that, although he could have done things differently, you understood why he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with you.

Because truth be told… you didn’t know what you’d done had the roles been reversed. If the battle after the siege of Alesia had ended in your favour, if you had taken Acacius hostage and brought him to your father… Would you have disobeyed your father’s orders of executing him? Would you have gone up in arms against your own people for someone you didn’t truly know?

Probably not. Definitely not.

So, you could only make peace with what had happened. Never forget but perhaps work towards forgiveness. Because, whether you liked it or not, you loved him. Despite how much you tried to flatly refuse that notion, you did. You fell for him, for the little details, the unspoken care, his easy demeanour. His gentleness. His heart, a bit rough around the edges, but the perfect fit to yours.

It was almost derisory. A trick of fate placed him in your path, an imminent collision of stars. Unavoidable. Final. As if Cathubodua Herself had put Marcus in your path for a reason.

“This was my room,” Marcus’ low whisper brought you back to the mundane plane.

It was a small, rectangular room. A broken window let the light in, shining on the tiny dust particles floating around. A bed with wooden posts, a wardrobe, and a chest. There was rubble everywhere, but otherwise pretty much intact.

Acacius walked through the debris and knelt in front of the chest. Taking in a deep breath, he lifted the heavy lid. You peeked above his shoulder, getting a glimpse of his past.

He chuckled; a sad gurgling noise stuck in his chest.

“My mother loved Saturnalia. It’s a festivity we celebrate in December to honour Saturn. Every year she’d made a sigillarium for me. She had a theme going on, they were always shaped as soldiers from the Roman army,” he took a terracotta figurine out, his thumb caressing the piece with reverence. “A centurion, a tribune, a legate… On my last birthday here, with them, she gifted me this.”

Marcus raised to his feet, handing over the figurine he was holding close to his heart. You took it with extreme care, afraid it would break between your fingers. The perfectly preserved sigillarium was that of a General with a black armour, a golden Medusa on the center of the breastplate. Just like the one Marcus wore in battle.

“Excuse the terrible paint job, I was never born to be an artist,” he joked, but you could see the anguish in his brown, tearful eyes. “I was so obsessed with becoming a General one day, I even wrote my name on the sole of its foot.”

You turned the piece around to inspect it and there it was, his name scrawled by a young hand.

“It’s beautiful,” you muttered, heart up in your throat. “Sounds like your mother was an amazing, loving woman.”

And he’d lost her. His father too. How alienating that had to be for a young lad with no other family.

“She… was,” Marcus barely husked out, briefly overtaken by grief. “It’s been a long time since I thought about all of this.”

You put the figurine back in the chest and laced your arms around his waist, hugging him close. He soon enveloped you too, his good hand landing on the back of your head.

Time went by, neither of you too sure for how long you both stood there. Until the hug naturally came to an end and Marcus kissed your forehead.

“Right. Enough reminiscing. Let me clean this room up a bit, we’ll spend the night here and decide what we’ll do in the morning.”

“I can help—”

“No,” he cut you off instantly. “You’re hurt, mel. You need to rest and recover.”

Gaius had put you through hell, the bruising map of your skin changing colour every single day. However, the worst wounds were not the ones visible to the naked eye, but the fragments of soul you’d lost.

And despite the pain, the emotional toll you’d taken, you were not going to let it get to you. Raised to be strong, to overcome challenges, you wouldn’t give up on yourself so easily. Not while there was a reason to keep going. In the last few months, you had lost nothing and everything. But you were ready to get it all back.

Before you could retort, Marcus guided you to a chair and got to work. Hours passed while you talked and shared snippets of your past lives, of family and friends, of childhood memories, while Acacius cleared the room. It was weird how easy it was to talk to him, how the conversation flowed naturally, never running out of topics to discuss.

“Yes, blood baths,” you said, the topic at hand having devolved rapidly into some darker matters. “Literal blood baths.”

“And you just… what? Soak in it for a while?” his confusion was so evident, you laughed.

“Yes, Marcus. It’s believed it invigorates you before a battle.”

“And whose blood is that?”

“Usually animals. Wild boars and the like,” you omitted the fact that some did use human blood, but you were not sure that his righteous mind could take that information and be normal about it.

“Usually?”

Well, he did pick up on it. You just shrugged and couldn’t help but cackle when he paled a bit at the realisation.

“I’ll stop asking questions now,” he shook his head as he laid the animal skins on the bare mattress, the room finally clean.

“For your own good, yeah, might as well.”

“Let’s eat something. Something that doesn’t bleed, preferably,” he jested, offering you a hand to stand up from the chair.

After picking up some vegetables and fruits from around the farmland, Marcus and you reconvened to show each other your findings. Some fruit trees had survived the fire as well as bushes. There wasn’t much though, considering how cold it was outside, but you would make do with what you had.

You dropped a makeshift basket on top of the chest and stepped aside for Marcus to see.

“I see you’ve gone for the berries and nuts,” he said, picking up a chestnut. “These are so sweet, here, try.”

He cracked it open and passed it on. You nibbled it, surprised of how sweet it actually tasted. The ones you had had before were bitterer, drier.

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing,” you ate the rest of it, almost licking your fingertips. “Look how plump these cherries look, I’ve been dying to try them since I picked them!”

Your hand darted forward, grabbing a handful of dark purple cherries — they looked so juicy and shiny. As you brought them to your mouth, Marcus’ fingers wrapped around your wrist, his eyes slightly widened with a sudden fear you didn’t comprehend.

“The bush you picked these from, did it have lilac bell-shaped flowers?”

“Yes?”

“Do not eat those,” he stole them from your hand, throwing them back into the basket. “That’s deadly nightshade. It’s very poisonous. A few of those berries and you wouldn’t live to tell the tale.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, your heart pumping wildly as you swiped your hand on your clothing. “I didn’t know.”

“Let’s go wash our hands in the stream nearby, then we’ll eat. Need to make sure there are no traces of those berries on your palms, okay?” he gently put a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft again.

Perhaps it wasn’t a feast fit for kings, but it was definitely tasty. Marcus had found some pomegranates, figs and pears, and along with the chestnuts, cranberries and almonds you’d found, you both were full.

Night had fallen with a thick blanket, the stars bright and clear in the sky with a full moon illuminating the farmland around the house. Despite how desolate it all looked, it was tranquil and beautiful. You could see yourself living off the land, growing old, so far apart from humanity no one would bother you.

As you laid in bed with Marcus, you wondered what he would think of that. All his life he’d worked hard to escape this very destiny, and by whims of fate, he’d ended up exactly where he’d started.

“I like it here,” you ventured as he covered you both with the warm animal skins.

Marcus stirred under you, finding a comfortable position, but it was obvious your statement had unsettled him a bit.

“It’s not too bad,” he replied, nuzzling your hair. “I suppose that when you’re a child, everything looks worse than what it actually is. I never realised how much I missed this place until we set foot here this morning. I did have everything I wanted and needed. I wonder what my life would have looked like if I stayed, if I’d have been able to…”

He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. If he would have been able to save his parents, to put out the fire before it engulfed everything. Your heart squeezed a little — it was hard not to develop feelings for a man like him. Even when he’d let a beast take control of you. At least, he had rectified that.

“It’s never good to dwell in the what ifs, because you’ll only hurt yourself with scenarios that might or might have not happened,” you offered him some words of wisdom, kissing his jawline while your thumb traced invisible circles on his sternum. “Besides, if you had never become a General, you wouldn’t have met me.”

“And wouldn’t that have been a good thing?” he blurted out with his eyes glued to the ceiling, his guilt showing again.

A side of you agreed with him. But, at the same time, deep down you knew it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. The Romans would have won anyway, your people starved out after a month-long siege. Someone else would have taken Marcus’ place, someone who would have felt no remorse in delivering you to a beast and disposing of you, without giving you a second thought.

“We will never know,” you nuzzled the crook of his neck, his warmth seeping into your body. “And that’s the point I’m trying to make. It doesn’t matter. I believe in fate, in Cathubodua. She knows the outcome of every warrior in battle. Everything that has happened to me, to my people, was destined to be.” It didn’t make it easier though.

Marcus let go of a heavy sigh, his lips brushing your forehead with a gentleness that tugged at your heart. Because as divided as you were, as messy as this all was, your love for him was undeniable. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps you had to suffer before you could live the life you wanted with the man you loved.

“Your goddess is definitely capricious. But I guess it makes sense,” his hand rubbed your shoulders, soothing your bristled skin.

“She gives the toughest battles to Her strongest warriors,” you joked, because that was what your father used to say.

“Well, She isn’t wrong about that. You’re the strongest person I know, that’s for sure,” he rasped, your sights locking in.

When he leaned in for a kiss, you met him halfway. The dance of tongues quickly mutated into something more intimate, more passionate. Every time you playfully retreated, he’d come and find you, dragging your tongue into his mouth. Marcus propped his elbow against the mattress so half his frame would blanket you while you just melted under his touch.

His free hand played with the hem of your shirt, unsure of what to do. The fact that he just didn’t assume what you wanted reassured you that he was, indeed, a good man. With your palm against the back of his hand, you slithered both under your garment, and when his fingers finally cupped one of your breasts, you let go.

“Are… are you sure? I don’t want— I don’t want you to think— I don’t want to hurt you. I’m happy with just holding you tonight, knowing that you’re here with me,” he confessed with a trembling voice that warmed your heart.

“I’m sure, Marcus,” you peppered kisses on his lips, his chin, his neck — anywhere your mouth would reach. “I’ve missed you.”

With a feeble smile, Marcus leaned down again, your lips fitting perfectly as his thumb swiped your nipple gently. The fondling on your breast became more pleasant with every stroke and once your taut button was all worked up, Marcus proceeded to pay the same attention to your other boob.

In no time you were breathing heavily under him, wanting to get rid of the barriers between your bodies. You fought with his shirt, and sensing your desperation, Marcus helped you get rid of it and everything else, until you both were bare in front of each other.

Marcus was kneeling on top of you, his thick thighs to either side of yours. He looked so mighty, so perfect, it was hard to ignore how handsome he was. Built like a god, you’d worship him in his temple every single day if you could. And while you devoured the sight in front of you, his weeping cock ready to take you, his eyes lingered elsewhere.

You were so lost in the moment, you’d forgotten the map of bruises dotted around your whole body. But Marcus hadn’t — you could see his irises darkening with every bruise he discovered, every mark on your skin. For the last few days, you’d done your best at covering them, but now it was unavoidable.

Gaius had done a number on you, he’d been relentlessly brutal. Every night you’d fear his mood. When he’d get you out of the crate he’d thrown you in, you knew there would be hell to pay, even though you had nothing to do with it. The month spent with him had been your darkest time, his imprints on your skin ones you wished away every night.

“I’m so sorry,” Marcus ran a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. “You didn’t deserve this. I should have acted sooner. Damn, I should have told you when we were at Lake Bracciano, give you the opp—”

“Marcus,” you called, gently removing his hand from his face so he would look at you. “What’s done is done. Let’s not think about the what ifs now, alright? I’m here now, wanting you inside me, erasing the imprint of…” you choked for a second, unable to put it into words. “Creating new memories. Can you do that, please?”

“I swear to the Gods that I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, mel,” Marcus leaned forward again, his chest flush with yours as his fingers caressed your neck. “I love you.”

Even though it was the second time you had heard those three words strung together, this time around it felt… warm and hopeful, not desperate and hopeless.

Your hand landed on the back of his neck to push him down, your mouths crashing again.

Marcus painted a love map on your skin, his lips pressing kisses on every bruise he could find, awakening the side of you that had been dormant since the moment you left his side in the stables. Soon enough his kisses travelled south, too far down. When he settled flat between your thighs, nipping below your belly button, one of your hands darted to his head, grabbing a fistful of his curls.

“It’s okay, cor meum (my heart). Let me make you feel good, please,” he cooed, and you couldn’t resist.

Freeing his hair, Marcus slithered further down until his mouth kissed your inner thighs. A little shy, you tried hiding your core, but his insistent pecks along with his broad shoulders coaxing your legs apart melted away your last defences.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, his warm breath fanning your glistening skin. “You are so wet already, sweetheart, and I haven’t even touched this sweet dripping nook yet.”

Before you could say anything, he lapped at your entire slit in one stroke, leaving you gasping for air and moaning his name. Marcus didn’t stop there, urged on by your little whimpers as the tip of his tongue found your hooded clit. He twirled and swirled and latched onto it, your clit throbbing in no time as Marcus ate you out expertly.

Drunk with lust, he nuzzled the tip of his nose on your nub, almost sending you over the edge when he inhaled sharply, feasting on your womanly scent. His mouth soon found your leaking hole and stroked it softly, outlining the circle of your entrance with the tip of his tongue. The moment he dipped it in, you mewled uncontrollably, grabbing onto the animal skins for dear life.

Marcus fucked you with his tongue until the tense coil inside you snapped, a million stars bursting behind your eyelids. Holding onto his hair now, you pressed his face into your pussy, screaming and shaking as you shamelessly came on his mouth. He drank your release eagerly, lapping you clean.

A last kiss on your stimulated kiss, then on your mound, and Marcus finally emerged from in between your legs with a triumphant smile, his moustache and stubble soaked with your cream.

“You taste so good, want to try?” you almost missed his question, your heart beating so hard it was deafening, but you managed to nod.

Marcus climbed up your body and bowed down for a kiss, which you eagerly reciprocated. He tasted sweet — no, you did.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart. I can’t hold it much longer,” Marcus said almost between gritted teeth.

Gazing down, you saw his throbbing cock resting heavily on your mound. The head was glistening with precum, dripping onto your skin, leaving a beautiful pearl behind. Your cunt gushed at the prospect of housing him, needing him as much as he did you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and with your heels dug in his buttocks, you pushed him into you. Understanding the unspoken invitation, Marcus aligned his seeping cock with your slick hole and slowly dove in, your walls parting, sheathing him as you were meant to be.

Fully seated now, Marcus kissed the tip of your nose to then rest his forehead against yours. You felt so full, so blissed, there wasn’t room in your mind for anything else. His weight on top of you provided an extra layer of warmth and protecting, his forearms framing your head.

Neither of you spoke, but when Marcus pulled out and back in, you both moaned in unison. His pace was cautious, loving, gentle. His hips waved as he softly fucked into you, drinking your moans in a messy kiss. But it wasn’t long until his slow rhythm devolved into something more urgent, more primal.

Marcus thrusted in more harshly now, the tip of his cock dragging along your anterior wall, hitting the right spot every time. He was pumping into you so hard now, that your whole body swayed under him, no matter how strong you held onto his shoulders. The slap of skin meeting skin and your shared arousal gurgling every time he hammered into you sent you into overdrive.

You climbed to the top of your pleasure, Marcus helping you get there quickly. With one last push, you finally came crashing down, your pussy juicing around his girth while your inner walls hugged him tight, clenching and pulsing wildly, commending him to follow you into a blissful orgasm.

“You’re too damn tight, holding onto me like that,” Marcus grumbled, fighting against his own climax now. “Mel, please let go, I can’t—”

You shook your head no, digging your heels into his ass cheeks again so he would continue to fuck into you, chasing his own climax. Finding relief within you. You squeezed your walls around him, wanting to milk him.

“Shit, are you sur—?”

“Marcus,” you cut him off, eyes hazy with desire, mind numb. “Come inside. Fill me up, warm me up.”

With a strangled moan, Marcus’ head fell in the crook of your neck whilst he rutted into you like a man possessed. His cock pulsed inside you, and you consciously clutched around him at the same time you raked your fingers through his sweaty curls.

Until he finally spilt inside you, his warm seed coating your walls with his pearly white. And when you thought he was done, Marcus surprised you with yet another spurt, his spent filling you up to the brim.

Marcus crumbled on top of you, his softening cock still snug inside your pussy, his whole body weight crushing you. But instead of suffocating, it felt calming, soothing. For a long while you both stayed there — you drawing invisible lines on his back, and him kissing every bruise until you both fell asleep on his tiny childhood bed.

Hooves. A clip-clop sound in the distance, slowly approaching. The wind carried a command, “They’re here, find them.”

At first, Marcus thought it a dream. But soon he realised it was no product of his imagination at all. The voices were very real, threatening the peace of his home. Even though he knew who they were, he still needed confirmation.

Getting up from bed, careful not to wake you yet, Marcus peeked through the window. His fear materialised the second he recognised Gaius and three of his goons. They were on foot, although Marcus was sure of what he heard, therefore suspected they had left their horses hidden away somewhere nearby.

You both had to leave. Now. There wasn’t much time to do anything about it — chances were not good when you were doubled in number, and you were still recovering from your injuries. He could take some lives with his, but would prefer not to get to swordfight if he could avoid it.

Lurching forth, Marcus tapped your shoulder with urgency, his thumb brushing your cheek as your eyelashes fluttered open.

“Mhm?” you mumbled, sleepy, as you rubbed your eye with the side of your hand.

“They’ve found us. Gaius is here, mel. We need to leave,” he urged you, helping you up when your orbs finally popped open with alarm. “Listen to me. We’re going to be fine. Their horses must be on the back, tied by the river. We get there, being as stealthy as possible, and we leave.”

“Marcus,” you exhaled, panicky, as you stood up.

He could see the memories flooding your mind, your eyes blurry with pain. His heart cried for you, for the harsh times he’d put you through. But you were right, there was no time to dwell on the past, he couldn’t change it. But he could protect you now, learn from his mistakes.

“Grab the bow and arrow,” he hurried towards the pile of armour, putting it on as fast as he could.

You gave him a hand, tightening the leather strips to secure the breastplate in place, and then took the weapons, while Marcus seized his gladius. Right behind you, Marcus guided you through the rubble to get to the back of the house. The voices were closer now, prominent as they talked to each other, clearing the rooms they’d already checked out.

The backdoor connecting the kitchen with the backyard was blocked with debris, so Marcus helped you up the window. When your feet landed on the ground, he perched himself on the windowsill.

“Acacius!” Gaius’ guttural groan made him turn before he jumped off the window.

The man’s features were distorted by rage, spit flying off his mouth when he repeated his name again. The sight of him made his blood boil, his primal instinct asking him to make him pay for what he’d done to you. But he couldn’t risk your safety again. Perhaps one day he could act on it.

With his heart pumping hard, Marcus veered around and jumped off the window. Your widened eyes told him you’d heard your captor’s voice now. The horror they emanated just made his chest swell with regret.

The men were too close, he doubted you both could lose them in a chase. Had he reacted sooner, perhaps you could have escaped the house before they set foot in it. But now, with them on your heels, chances were slim.

If he wanted to give you a fighting chance, to delay these men, he knew what he had to do. And, surprisingly, the decision was easy to make, as easy as breathing really. It was the least he could do for you and if he made it out alive, then he’d make sure to find you afterwards. But the reality was, he knew he wouldn’t survive fighting four men on his own.

“No matter what, you run. You run for those trees and don’t look back,” he desperately asked of you. “You hear me? You keep running.”

“Marcus—”

“You keep running,” he punctuated every word. “Promise me.”

“I… I promise,” you muttered, squeezing his hand in yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now run. I’ll be right behind you,” he pushed your shoulders.

As soon as your feet rushed beneath you, Marcus stopped a few metres behind you. Swirling around on his heels, gladius on hand and standing his ground, Marcus faced the men giving you chase.

If this was how he died, it was a noble way to go.

Running on pure adrenaline, you ran as fast as your feet could take you. Your heart was thudding in your chest, climbing up your throat, your lungs burning. Everything hurt, this strenuous effort not aiding your healing at all.

“Marcus—”

When you turned around, just a few feet away from the forest’s boundary, you realised he was nowhere to be seen. You scanned your surroundings nervously but couldn’t locate him. He said he’d be right behind you, so where the fuck was he?

Coming to a complete halt, you looked in the distance and your heart plummeted to the depths of your stomach. Marcus had stayed behind to win you time. To sacrifice himself for your freedom.

“No, no, no, no,” you chanted as your heartbeat rang anxiously in your eardrums.

Desperation took over you, not being able to come to terms with what was happening. You wouldn’t let him do this, not if you could avoid it. Dying for you was not the way to mend your wounds, it would only make them deeper and more painful.

No, you were not letting him do this.

Retracing your steps, you ran back towards them. As you approached the fight, closing in the distance, you saw three bodies peppered around on the ground, unresponsive and bloody. From the distance you couldn’t tell who they were, but when your frightened eyes landed on the two figures exchanging blows, you knew they were Marcus and Gaius.

When you were only fifty meters away, a bunch of branches crunched beneath your feet. The noise, which should have gone unnoticed, alerted Marcus of your presence. His focus redirected at you for a second, eyes wide with fear for your safety, opening his flank to Gaius.

“Marcus, no!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, trying to alert him of Gaius’ next blow.

You shouted too late. Gaius struck Marcus to the floor, your lover’s sword jangling when it landed far from his hand.

Time stilled, everything happening at very slow motion.

Gaius towered behind Marcus, grabbing his hair to have him on his knees.

You stopped right in your tracks, pulling the bow above your head.

Marcus’ eyes locked in with yours, a silent plea for you to keep running, to stay away from this, all while Gaius placed a sword right in front of his neck.

You slotted in the arrow, aim clear, your target Gaius’ forehead.

Gaius laughed.

You let go of the shaft, the arrow flying fast towards them.

And just in the nick of time, before the arrowhead met Gaius’ head, your captor sliced Marcus’ throat.

“NO!” you wailed, dropping to your knees, fingers digging in the ground while your heart got obliterated right in front of you.

The arrow kissed Gaius’ forehead, then he tumbled back and fell backwards, the sound of his bodyweight not being half as satisfying as it should have been. When Gaius’ fingers let go of Marcus’ head, Acacius dropped to his side, a river of red staining his armour.

As fast as you could, you rose to your feet and skidded through the mud when you got to Marcus’ side.

He was still bleeding but was long gone. Life had abandoned his brown orbs, now dull and opaque. Marcus was still warm as you cradled his battered body close to your chest. For the first few minutes while you held him, you felt nothing. But when his body began to turn cold in your embrace, reality set in.

He was dead. The man who brought you here, the man who lied to you, the man who saw his own weakness and decided to change, the man you loved, the man who sacrificed himself so you could escape.

Perhaps the outcome would have been different had you not alerted him of your presence. What if he hadn’t heard you? What if he hadn’t been distracted? What if he had won Gaius, had you obeyed his orders? What if his death was your fault after all?

“It’s never good to dwell in the what ifs, because you’ll only hurt yourself with scenarios that might or might have not happened,” you had told him not long ago.

There was no point to overanalyse everything that had happened. What was done, was done.

Still hugging him, you cried your sorrows and regrets until the day bled into nightfall. When your eyes finally ran dry, you dragged Marcus’ dead body inside. You managed to lay him on his back on his childhood bed, and took the time to clean the blood off his skin. Sutured the gash on his neck too, changed his clothes for fresh ones, and checked Marcus’ belongings.

He still had some coins in his saddlebag. You found two denarii, which you grabbed before returning to his deathbed. Carefully, you placed the coins over his shut eyes — you knew some of the Roman rites, having seen them being performed after battles. It was payment for the ferryman who would carry Marcus’ soul over to the Underworld.

Then you snatched the sigillarium he’d shown you last night—the one his mother gifted him of a General with his name carved in the sole of its boot—and placed it on his chest. You hoped his parents were right there waiting for him, welcoming him with open arms.

You knelt by his side, keeping vigil, while your thumb gently stroked the back of his hand.

Your future was uncertain but clear at the same time. You were deep down in enemy’s territory, with no way of getting back to your homeland. Alone, with no friends and Marcus dead. Your father would probably be paying now for your escape, for Gaius’ and his men’s deaths.

There weren’t many more options at hand.

So you stood up, sauntering towards the baskets with the remaining fruit from last night. The purple berries were still there, and Marcus’ clear words suddenly came back to you.

“A few of those berries and you wouldn’t live to tell the tale.”

It was apparent now why you would have picked them. Destiny knew.

With no doubt left stalking you now, you picked ten of them and one by one brought them to your lips. Slowly you chewed them, the rich sweetness of their flavour a welcome taste on your tongue. It was true what they said, that death was sweet.

You returned to the bed where Marcus was lying and climbed on it, you curled up against his side and kissed his cheek one last time. Taking a few deep breaths, you let yourself fall in an eternal slumber.

Perhaps you’d meet him in that underground cave, perhaps he’d be waiting for you.

Perhaps this was how it was all supposed to end, what was fated from the beginning. What was truly meant to be — a lovers’ struggle, a lovers’ tragedy.

A lovers’ end.

[bones4thecats]

What If Their S/O Died During Ragnarok?

Characters: Thor, Odin, Loki, and Heimdall Inspired By: My wish to write angst A/N: I have nothing to say so read the angst. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Death, fighting, details in death, murder, and just pure angst no fluff. ⚠️

Disclaimer: F! Reader in Odin's part because of Thor being his son

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╚═════ Thor ═════════════════════════════════╝

🌩️ Thor always adored your strength. You weren't as strong as him but you were quite a threat when you needed to be, so when you were called for Ragnarok, he wasn't surprised

🌩️ You stood before the human named Julius Caesar, and if you were being honest, his cunning nature was starting to annoy you even before your fight began, but now that you were far more advanced into it, it was beginning to make your anger come out

"I'm gonna tear your arms off your body and use them to beat you senseless!" You screamed, raising your weapons to strike him down.

"Bring it!" He yelled back.

🌩️ As you swung downwards, the male disappeared, making your eyes widen and you feel a pain hitting your midsection. Staring downwards, a large gladius blade poking through your body

🌩️ The sound of everyone gasping made Thor look up from his hammer in the private room. His eyes locked with the screen and his grip tightened around the handle, launching up from his seat, he began to practically run outside to the ring

🌩️ Thor ran as fast as he could go up the stairs, his sudden stop between you and the former Roman dictator causing a mass amount of sand to fall upon him. He looked back at you and saw how you fell to the ground

"Y/N..."

"I love you, Thor... after death does us part..."

🌩️ Your body began to shatter as your husband kept his grip on your body, trembling as you died. You, the love of his life, died in his arms

🌩️ He turned around as your green-shattered body began to float away, he then dug his fingers into his weapon, it almost shattering the object he held onto. Thor then looked back at the human, rage in his eyes as he let out a deep warning as thunder wrapped around them all

"You'll pay for this, human."

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╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Vlad the Impaler, former Voivode of Wallachia, well-known blood-thirsty monster, and current-opponent against the co-leader of the Norse Pantheon, Goddess of the Afterlife, Y/N stood before one another, weapons drawn as Heimdall yelled for the round to start

🪶 Thor watched as his mother walked to the human, shook his hand, and readied to fight. Normally he would be just as calm as his father, but after the loss of Poseidon in the third round, it was worrying that they could possibly lose another God, specifically his own mother

🪶 Odin, his father and your husband, just sat there with a blank face as saw how your weapons clashed, leaving sparks behind as you danced around him

🪶 During your time ruling over those who have passed on in Valhalla, Hel, Fólkvangr, and Landscape, you would be able to move around their wispy-like forms with ease, as if you were a dancer. And while it was beautiful in those times, right now it was helping you survive

🪶 Odin's eyes narrowed as Vlad lifted his kilij and sent it smashing down onto your own spear, successfully smashing it in half while you flew back and sent attack after attack at the human who tried killing you multiple times

🪶 It only lasted 20 minutes when you knocked Vlad the Impaler down, causing him to cough up blood and see his blade get smashed underneath your foot. While he did have a Völundr, it was of no use, your skill in battle rose far above his own

🪶 Holding your blade to his throat as he pressed against the wall, he took the final attempt at hitting you by throwing his blade at you, though you dodged and allowed it to fly past you. You scoffed and chuckled at the action of the human

"How amusing, even after so long of trying to stay alive you still don't understand that I cannot and will not allow myself to be taken down by a man with longer hair than my nutcase-nephew. Now, accept your fate. Any final words for your fellow parasites?"

"Yes... I made sure I got my final head."

"What?"

"Y/N, look out!"

🪶 In the matter of a second, time stopped. A large mount of black hair launched in the air with shock while the rest of the beings all froze in fear. It was the leader of the Norse Pantheon, it was Odin who had gone blind in rage so quickly

🪶 Jumping down from his seat, Huginn and Muninn swarmed around your body, now holding a blade within the head and squawked in agony. Loki and Thor stood in complete shock as Odin held his hand up and sent a blast at the human male, killing him slowly and painfully while he picked up your body without any emotion and carried you away

🪶 All Gods watched silently as the humans just looked down or stayed with their eyes glued on the events. The Gods felt ashamed at the loss, yes. But seeing such a kind and loving part of their society fall in such a hurtful manner broke some hearts while Humanity just shook their heads with either shame or pity for the Norse Family

🪶 When Odin fought soon, everyone knew that he wasn't going to go down easy... not after this...

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╚═════ Loki ═════════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Loki and you have been amused watching the humans and Gods fight. At first, the fights went by smoothly, the loss of Lü Bu and Adam not fazing either of you, but as the humans began to rise in power, resulting in the loses of Heracles, Poseidon, and Hades, your nerves slightly grew when your name was called

🐍 Walking around the ring amusing yourself was easy, but standing in front of those they called 'History's Greatest Military Mind', did bring your ego down slightly, much to his surprise

🐍 As you clashed in the arena, your husband of many years, Loki, floated around and laughed at the futile attempts against you. It was pointless, with your mindset and similar, to his, abilities, you were practically invincible

🐍 Loki smirked as you fought, ignoring the calls of his Uncle Odin's birds. And while they were annoying, if he had to endure them to see his lovely spouse win, then so be it

🐍 His face only began to darken the Alexander began to advance with his Valkyrie-bond. Now his attacks were starting to land more often, and that was not good at all

🐍 You were a Deity who has fought in many wars, you knew how opponent's thought, but every time you knew what he was going to do, he'd switch it up on the spot. Now you understood his nickname to the fullest

🐍 Loki's eyes narrowed in worry as you lunged forward to stab him in the head, only for him to dodge, go behind you, wrap his legs around your neck, pin you to the ground, and speak his final words to you

"You were an amazing opponent, Deity of Order. And I wish you no pain."

"Why you-"

🐍 Dead silence.

🐍 With one blow, you had died. A stab wound to your heart, causing your once glowing, glimmering eyes to drown in a pool of darkness. Loki watched as your arms slumped down and as Humanity cheered for their heroine

🐍 But what he didn't know is that the Trickster God from the Norse Pantheon was standing right behind him, ready to make him feel the same pain he made his lover feel a couple seconds ago

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Heimdall ══════════════════════════════╝

📯 He has seen all either fall or stand in this tournament, but there was one that he did not wish to witness end with a Gods' non-victory, and that is Round 5 of Ragnarok, Hannibal Barca vs Norse-Deity of the Sound, Y/N

📯 You two have been together since the very beginning, growing from friends to full-on romance in just a matter of a couple thousand years, which is fast for any average Deity-relationship, which normally appears after around four-times that!

📯 He watched you two look at one another blankly, but he knew how you thought. You were coming up with every angle you could hit this guy and he could go down like a fly, and he hoped those plans worked

📯 Heimdall blew into his horn and the match began, the sound of metal clashing and grunts being all he could hear whilst everyone else conversed and made their own sounds in reaction to everything

📯 You could hear everything better than anyone, and using your daggers, you tossed them in the air before they came flying down, making the loudest screeching anyone could ever hear. After doing this many times and having Hannibal come back with his own attacks unique to himself, which made you smirk and laugh

"If you believe such minor attacks with a Valkyrie could kill me, you're wrong human."

📯 Hannibal smirked and raised his weapon once again for an attack set like a joust. You just scoffed and aimed your sword for his heart, but before you could hit him, a pain was felt the back of your head... a shield had come flying down and smashed your head down

📯 You fell to the ground in pain as he grabbed the shield and hit you once again in your head, making you wail in agony from the pain. Like mentioned earlier, your hearing was exquisite, so having this crashing your head while he hit it with his sword wasn't very nice

📯 He then pierced your head with his sword, causing everyone to freeze slightly. Humanity then broke out into a cheer of celebration while the Gods stood in shock... how did he bring you down in a matter of 32 minutes?! What had he done?!

📯 Nobody was more shocked than Heimdall. He had just witnessed his spouse of over four-thousand years die before him. Everyone knew he wasn't going to speak, so, in an effort to help the man, Zeus came down and yelled out the rounds' results

📯 While Humanity celebrated and the Gods just stayed silent with either rage or pain for you, Zeus looked back at the Norse God and spoke gently as to usher him into a room to relax

"Heimdall, wait for me in the room with a soundwave on it. I'll be there in a little bit and we can speak of this."

📯 Heimdall nodded as he rushed away, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he ran. Why did you have to die... why did Zeus have to choose you... why was life such a pain...

[animeyanderelover]

Can i request headcanons for feitan, madara, Indra, jojo( Joseph and caesar) for fem reader being a time and world traveler? Like she can come and go as she pleases or when she gets bored and wants to see something else. She enjoys taking her time and exploring each world she visits

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, paranoia, threats, manipulation, blackmailing, violence, female s/o

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

S/o is a time and world traveler

Indra Otsutsuki

💜​There is something different about you. Years of training and honing his abilities to utmost perfection have given Indra a very keen intuition on people's skills through simple observation. Someone as skilled and strong as he is does not have time like his younger brother to waste his time with everyone, instead he is much more selective with his preferences clearly lying in stronger people. That is why he finds himself seeking you out as he as a feeling that you will prove yourself as worthy of his attention and time. His intuition is after all rarely wrong. As you are a traveler who has found her way to their village, Indra instantly takes it upon himself to separate you from people he does not deem to be worth of the attention and time he plans to invest in you. He shall be your guide and adviser during the time you spend in the village. Despite being known for his unforgiving nature and harsh attitude, you find out that he is quite attentive and mellow when he is left alone with you, answering all your questions.

💜​Accompanying you as you get to know the world around you becomes one of his favorite activities as he relishes in the privacy he can have with only you. As seasons come and go, he finds himself growing quite possessive of your time he sees as far too precious to clown around with those he does not see as fitting. You are far too knowledgable and skilled to waste your day with people who will never become strong enough for him to acknowledge. By now he only seems to tolerate his little brother and his father around you as he scares others away from your side. Yet not only does he scare those he deems as weak away, he also insists for you to let him train you as he would hate for you to not grow fully into the potential he knows you possess. He discovers very soon though that he has barely anything to teach you as the opposite would be much truer. As uncomfortable as he feels when figuring out that you seem to be stronger than him, he shows willingness to learn so that he will eventually surpass you in order to hold the illusion of being in control.

💜​It is his father's decision to name Asura as the next successor that ultimately pushes Indra over the edge and it is the defeat he suffers at the hand of the brother he always thought to be weaker that fuels his obsession. Not being the one who is stronger equals now not being in control which is why he grows quite paranoid with you as he knows that he has never bested you in skills. It is his very real threat of abducting you to keep you for himself that finally leads you to reveal the truth to him about the full potential of your powers. Your powers let you be closer to a god than an actual human and this knowledge humbles and humiliates him. A feeling of insignificance threatens to weight him down as he comes to realise that in your eyes he must be something to be forgotten as time passes by. A knot of emotions, unable to be untangled, is born in his heart and makes it hard to navigate. Between the anger, the sorrow and the paranoia there is one thing Indra is certain of though. That he will have you bending down to his will, no matter what.

Madara Uchiha

🌑​You appear before him in a time of rare desperation as his heart feels heavy as the last member of his family is battling with death after having been mortally wounded by Tobirama Senju during one of their many battles. Everyone from the doctors has proclaimed that there is no saving Izuna yet here you stand, unfaced as you are surrounded by hostile Uchiha warriors and proclaim that you can save his younger brother from the tight grip of death. No one believes you, not even Madara yet you know of his deepest wish to not lose Izuna and ultimately Madara allows you to tend to Izuna. If you cannot fulfill what you have promised, he will see it through to make you regret every single word you have dared to use to lie to his clan. You defy all expectations though as you save his younger brother from unescapable death using a jutsu that no one of the medics in the Uchiha clan have ever seen before. As Izuna is on a safe way of recovery, many beg of you to stay a while longer and to learn the abilities that you possess.

🌑​The Uchiha value power and skill and you possess plenty of it. Madara, quite intrigued by you, only joins the offer of his clan as he asks of you to accept the hospitality of his clan so that he can properly express the gratitude he feels. To the delight of everyone you accept the offer though as you have been planning to settle down for a while to take a break from your travels. As the war continues raging on outside, you are treated kindly within the Uchiha compound as many of the strong clan ask of you to learn from you. You have no interest in the war yet your strength is undeniable as you have taken some offers to spar with some of the warriors out of your personal boredom. Some even suggest to make you an ally to fight against the Senju yet as you voice your clear displeasure against that idea, Madara sees it through to silence all who dare to think like this. It is no secret that he is utterly smitten with you at this point and does whatever he can to ensure that you stay with his clan.

🌑​In his mind he has already named you as the wife he wishes to take as your knowledge, sharpness and skill are most desirable traits. Someone special as you only deserves an equally impressive man. A man like him. Rumors have already spread, the eldest of his clan have already given him their blessing for his decision yet it is then that you decide that it is time to leave. You manage to sneak away from everyone yet he catches you in your attempt. Initially he persuade you to change your mind yet when he realises that you have made up your mind, he switches his plans and instead tries to use force on you. It is that night that he is bested by someone for the first time as not even Hashirama has ever beaten him so effortlessly. He is as impressed as he is humiliated, something he has never felt before. It is only then that you decide to confess to him your true origins and powers. Perhaps for others it would be soothing to know that they lost against someone who transcends through time and even space yet he has never been someone to resign himself to his fate. Red eyes glare at you as you go your separate ways as he swears that he will become even a god to claim you as his.

Feitan Portor

☠️Commonly it is believed that first impressions matter yet if that were to be true, Feitan couldn't care less. You truly appear in the wrong place at the wrong time as the city you currently reside in becomes an unfortunate victim of a heist of the Phantom Troupe. Completely left in the blind with what is going on, you do what you deem to be the right thing to do as you try to save at least some people which leads you to violently clash with no one else but Feitan himself. Initially your brave facade is scoffed at yet you manage to impress him to the point where he even finds himself enjoying a fight he initially is confidet he will win. You are just strong and stubborn enough for him to enjoy the idea of toying a bit with you and eventually break you. Just as it appears like he has won though, you finally seem to be mad enough to use your true abilities. Feitan doesn't fully understand what happens, only that you easily overpower him and shame him as he realises that you held back the entire time.

☠️​Humiliated and ashamed of his defeat he feels guilty for letting the troupe down by not doing his part yet Chrollo does not think badly of him as he knows of Feitan's skills. Instead it begs the question of what your abilities exactly are for you to defeat Feitan as effortlessly as you did. It would be safe to investigate you and Feitan is quite adamant to participate as he is silently brooding due to the defeat he had to suffer because of you. Very soon he finds himself confronted with the problem that he can't find any data about you as not even Shalnark can dig up information involving you. You may as well be a ghost and all of it only feeds Feitan's growing frustration as he finds himself reduced to the pitiful position of stalking you personally, just itching for a chance to fight with you again and get you back for his shameful loss. What was initially obsession for revenge soon turns into something else though yet when he fully realises the seriousness of it all, it is already too late for him to turn back.

☠️​The amount of time he dedicates to stalk you increases as he starts growing quite impatient and perhaps even a tiny bit desperate. Weeks of stalking yet he knows nothing about you nor about your Nen abilities. Why do you have to make it so difficult for him? When he finds out that you plan to leave the city and continue your journey, he is triggered. You react quite unfazed though even as the sharp tip of his sword is pressed against the back of your neck as his quiet and hoarse voice forbids you to leave this city. He still hasn't gotten his chance to beat you after all. To his dismay you reveal to him that you have known of his stalking the entire time, only adding more insult to his humiliation. You manage to defuse the situation though when you offer him the chance to ask you a few questions which you will answer to the best of your abilities. Whilst at first iffy, he takes that offer and asks you the question that has been bothering him the most. What exactly are your abilities? The answer you give him is too ridiculous to believe yet he senses no lie in your words. He falls silent yet you can see how he is brainstorming for a solution in that moment. He knows that you plan to leave. He can't have you do that.

Joseph Joestar

🦾​Your cover is instantly blown when you travel to a new world. Joseph, with his stupid luck, just had to see you suddenly appear through the portal you opened what should have been a reclusive area. Instead you meet eye to eye with none other than the young Joseph who is gawking at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face. You can't blame him for that. In the next moment he dramatically points his index finger at you, asking you aghast if you are some sort of witch. You fear for a short moment that you'll have to do something but to your luck the Joestar has no intention of stopping you as he tends to avoid problems normally. Instead you manage to figure things out with him as you have no choice but to confess to him the truth, especially since he seems to be quite witty and sharp, recognising it if you try to lie to him. After he has been convinced that you are merely a tourist from another world and plan to cause no chaos, you two instantly hit off.

🦾​Can you blame him though? It is not everyday that he stumbles upon someone who can travel through time and space. Instead he finds himself enjoying showing you around and being able to boost his own ego by amazing you with the stuff that is ordinary to him but new for you. He can't stop himself from flirting with you, although you find out that he does this quite commonly with the people around him so you learn to brush it off. He does like to remind you that you have the most unique and otherwordly charm of all people though. Quite literally. He enjoys your presence greatly though because you keep up with his antics, even if it has gotten the both of you in troubles quite some time before. It is only natural in hindsight that he caught feelings and whilst he may appear quite silly at times, Joseph is quite clever. Though he does like to think at the beginning that his feelings are nothing serious, he has no way to deny it anymore at a certain point.

🦾​He proceeds to act the same way he has always done to not rouse your suspicion but on the inside he is brainstorming already. He is no fool after all. You have told him yourself that you travel around when you get bored of a world. Very subtly he attempts to pry for more information about how exactly your powers, expressing genuine curiosity as he asks you if you can bring other people along. Honestly, he doesn't mind your abilities that much if it wouldn't be for the very real chance that you will simply never return to him again. If he would just know that you would reciprocate his feelings, he would even be up to tag along and see some new worlds for himself. He doesn't know if you feel the same though and even if he continues to flirt and has gotten as of lately more clingy and even a tad bit more jealous, he hesitates to tell you. He knows after all. He knows that his feelings are rather creepy and unhealthy. Let's just hope that he can delay your leave for as long as possible by keeping you entertained until he has found a solution...

Caesar A. Zeppeli

🫧​Caesar is no stranger to the concept of courting young ladies and stealing their heart in the process. He seems to be instantly attracted to you when he sees you as you have something special about you that he can't yet put his finger around. Adamant to discover what makes you so special to instantly capture his heart though, he does not shy away from approaching you with a gentlemanly playfulness that has always worked on women before. Whilst you appear to be amused as you can clearly see his intentions, you decide to see how it'll go out of curiosity nevertheless. You can indeed see the appeal in the young and hot-blooded man after a while as he truly doesn't hold back when it comes to his partner. Expensive jewelry and gifts are all given to you, dates in fine restaurants become a daily occurrence and sweet and romantic words that belong in a romance novel are whispered into your ears. Truly, he does not shy away from making a lady feel like the world belongs to her.

🫧​You can enjoy it only because you have heard and seen that he treats all ladies that way which is why you think of this as nothing too serious. That is until you notice the shift in his behavior. His eyes stray less to other ladies and solely focus on you with a warm and adoring glimmer in those green eyes, he invades your physical privacy by always taking an extra step to be closer to you out of growing protectiveness and you have realised his growing disdain as whenever he spots you with another man as he is turning without a doubt more and more possessive of you. You don't intend to have him fall truly in love with you because you know that you would leave him with a broken heart so you try to distance yourself from him in hopes that he will stop. Yet the moment you dare to pull back, his paranoia seems to increase. His mind is racing, wondering what it could be that has caused such a rift between you two and much to your sadness you find him multiple times in front of your door, begging you to tell him what is shackling your heart.

🫧​Caesar is fully aware of his reputation as a womanizer and he truly regrets it now that he has found the one lady he wants to marry and spend his life with. He is far too delusional to fully acknowledge the unfitting desperation he starts to display the further he feels you drifting away from him. As you notice that no rationality will work on him anymore, you decide to leave the city. The world you are in is still big after all and you have much left to discover. Yet you are aware that Caesar has abilities which aren't common for other people of this world to possess so you address an honest letter to him, trusting him enough to keep your secret safe. The heartbreak attacks him like a vicious dog when he breaks into your empty apartment after you did not answer the door and he finds your letter where you explain the situation to him. Still, he refuses to believe your words that deny that you two could never have a future together, something he has already envisioned multiple times. You poor thing must have never felt true love before to think that. As heartbroken as he is, Caesar is just as determined to find you and convince you of his feelings and the dangers that come with traveling all alone.

[nyardynn]

Ardyn’s dagger is a symbol of betrayal - and a sacrificial tool

After talking about Ardyn’s Allegorical Blade and Ardyn’s Rakshasa, it is high time we talked about the next best weapon Ardyn has in store, because it seems SE is dead set on transporting this character’s symbolism all through his weapons - and why not, because he has a lot of them!

Ardyn’s dagger is first seen when he kills the oracle Lunafreya at the altar of the Tidemother.

Compared to his other weapons this one seems strange immediately, because its missing all the elaborate ornaments that seem to decorate the armiger. Intricate weapons are typical for the Final Fantasy series, so why is this different? The answer is: it’s very old.

Ardyn’s weapon is, in fact, a Roman Gladius, more precise: the Pugio variant.

The Pugio is easily the most practical weapon of any Roman soldier. It’s a short dagger used as a secondary weapon or in close combat and was widely used. It has been the weapon of choice of many a conspirator within the Roman Empire and gained infamous symbolic meaning as the dagger used in the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 BCE by his own brother Brutus. After this it became culturally associated with murder and betrayal.

How very fitting that ancient Lucis is strongly modeled after ancient Rome with the traditional clothing and architecture of the era left largely unchanged.

The truth is, Ardyn’s had this dagger way before his untimely murder at his brother’s hands. It is the very dagger put into Ardyn’s hands by Somnus in his horrifying vision of being forced to murder his own fiancée.

His past and what the dagger represents weighs heavily on him, so why not throw that dagger away to not be haunted by the pain of memory ever again? As always, Ardyn Lucis Caelum is big on poetic justice. He uses this very dagger to - symbolically - kill Somnus and Aera after uncovering the full depth of his betrayal by everyone; his own brother, his fiancée (which turns out not being involved in his betrayal) and the gods he worshipped. This time it is him killing out of free will, power is back in his hands. The dagger absolves him of the guilt and shame of not being able to safe those he believed loved him. He murders the very feeling of loving them ever again, swearing that never again he will bow to the divine and by way of it, betrays himself worse than Somnus ever could.

The main act is yet to come: the murder of Lunafreya, the descendant of his once beloved. He doesn’t kill her with any of the dozens of long range weapons he has in his armory any of which are perfectly suited to not get his hands dirty. This one is personal; it needs to be up-close and it is going to be bloody.

Lunafreya embodies everything he once was. Once upon a time he was kind, filled with light like her with infinite trust in the gods and divine order. He sacrificed everything in their name; his health, his mind, even his life to the believe of divine justice and mercy, but what he got for it was only pain and suffering for the crime of being chosen the sacrificial lamb before he was even born. How is it that she, doing nothing different than he did, gets to be beloved by them, a beacon of hope. while he is cast away into darkness? Where is the justice he once believed in? What is there to worship in gods like that? Isn’t it all just a cosmic joke on his expense? How, then, can he be expected to bear the mockery even a minute longer than he has to?

Long after his death, when Ardyn is redeemed within the land of respite of Opera Omnia and joins the warriors of light, he meets Lunafreya again and has to justify himself for his actions in front of the heroes. He feels guilt over this particular murder, but deflects at first claiming she would have died anyway, upset to be reminded of his own cruelty.

Leon immediately uncovers though that this isn't the entire truth: Ardyn did not kill her out of indifference or even necessity, he killed her because she was all he once was and he couldn’t bear looking in the mirror. The hatred he felt towards her and all she stood for - all that he lost - was overwhelming. 

(I dare everyone to watch Ardyn in Opera Omnia, because this game is incredibly important for his characterization - way more important than it has any right to be for such a small game.)

Killing Lunafreya was the final act of ridding himself of his humanity: the murder of himself. He doesn’t just kill her, none of the armiger suffice for it. He sends the gods back their beloved oracle at their own altar. Lunafreya is a blood sacrifice. He demonstrates how little they will care, how little she matters to them. Whatever anyone of them does, they are only pawns in a fucked up game that noone is going to survive and he can kill them all anytime because this is what his role in the play is. This is what your benevolent gods want. He moves perfectly within the boundaries of the prophecy, entirely within his assigned place as the Immortal Accursed who will bring about the death of everything. As long as your death doesn’t disturb the path of the prophecy - and it won’t ever do that - everyone is fair game.

The importance and symbolism of the dagger is also highlighted by its appearance on the mural of the tomb in Assassin's Creed Origins where Ardyn makes a brief, but dubious and cryptic appearance. It's in the right lower corner of the hieroglyphs.

Ardyn is later seen still toying with his dagger in Episode Ignis when threatening his and Noctis’ lives in a smug display of power.

This is what you are worth to the gods.

It’s nothing; you are nothing.

We are all just men (and women) of no consequence.

PS: Luna forgives Ardyn in Opera Omnia. After all their deaths and the conclusion of their forced roles within the prophecy, noone quite feels like holding on to hard feelings. Ardyn and Luna continue to have a civil, even mutually appreciative relationship.

[the-monkeies-girl]

So Far From Home. ( Caesar x Human!Reader Oneshot. )

My brain after watching Dawn: I'm in a glass case of emotion

Title: So Far From Home. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T ( Mentions of injury, blood, death. ) Pairing: Heavily Implied - Caesar x Human! Reader. Words: 4.2K+ Summary: You had been with the Apes now for a year. Koba has sparked the rebellion, many Apes believing Caesar to be dead. He wasn't, and in one moment of vulnerability, he opens up to you about his past.

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Ellie had told you to not worry about the shallowness of his breathing, it was normal considering the extent of the damage the bullet did to his shoulder, the nature of infection slowly coming to terms along his body that occasionally trembled as if he were cold. Tightly knitting yourself into a ball on the floor next to the Ape King, you found that plausible. You were incredibly cold, your extremities felt like they were going to break into small pieces, they felt brittle. It was the rainy season once again and the dampness of the jacket you were wearing was doing nothing to help your situation as your eyes rested on the Ape next to you.

Even injured and in the throes of unconsciousness, he didn't lose the roughness of his brows. Always so intimidating and you longed to place your fingers against it to see if it would selfishly soften against your touch. Your fingers flickered at the thought as you brought your face down and kissed your forearm gently, secluding the lower half of your face behind your knees so your eyes were only visible as you kept watch.

The rise and then slow fall of his chest as Caesar was propped against the arm of the couch, accompanied by a pillow for comfort was rhythmic but there were a few times where it appeared he stopped breathing and panic would wash down you before you remembered what Ellie had told you. You tried to say it again and again. His breathing was going to be shallow, maybe even stagnant at points as his body was trying to heal itself with the very minimal use of antibiotics that Ellie had available in her satchel that Malcolm had to sneak into the Colony to acquire. He was injured beyond belief, especially for an Ape, and after laying in a shocked state on the floor of the Muir Woods in complete and drenched rain, silence and bitter chill, it was remarkably brutal when you had stumbled upon him. 

The cry you left out, pushing right past Alexander,  your knees skidding against the ground to the point where your cargo pants ripped, as you wanted to grasp at him immediately but you were pulled back by Malcolm once it was seen by him and Ellie that Caesar was heavily injured, cusping at the brink of death.

The stagger he had as you, Malcolm and Alexander pulled him to his feet, his head lulling towards your own and resting against the side as you held a good portion of his weight, trailing through the woods to the Land Cruiser and placing him in the back gently. His words… always so entrancing to you telling what actually happened. Koba, you had a feeling, was behind it and it all became vividly known once Caesar corrected Ellie who had made the assumption that the rebellion was caused by Humans. You looked at your hands pensively for a moment, uncoiling yourself from your crouched state. It was like you could still see his blood lingering on your digits and it made you uncomfortable to think about. 

It was always a thought that the Humans, at least the three you had gotten to know alongside Caesar, would find your attachment to him unnatural. Untethered and inhuman. It was a tightrope you walked on after they had seen a Human amongst the Apes, but you had explained the situation rather precariously through the time you spent helping them with the dam. Never mates, you were explicit in that despite the underlying want to get there, but you owed Caesar your life for offering you refuge when you were found, starved to death. It was true, what some people said; if the Flu did not kill you, your ability to survive on basic necessities was going to become the forefront on whether or not you could stave death off. They held judgment though when you talked about it, and for that, you were forever grateful. It came to a mutual agreement of ‘you need to do what you need to do to survive in these times’ and it was very seldom brought up again. 

You thought that you were going to need to explain your visceral response to seeing Caesar getting shot, to seeing him fall off the cliff edge, let alone the reaction seen in front of them all when you found his shell-shocked body but they never brought it up, even when you crawled into the back with Ellie as she worked nimbly to help the bleeding, your hands coming to grasp at Caesar’s head and hold it tenderly. It was hard to ignore the fact that he let you touch him so intimately, so closely and the flickering of your eyes between his own gaze told Ellie what she needed to know. But once again, never brought up again and you were once again, grateful to not have to dive into the aspects of the relationship you had with the King of Apes.

It… didn't seem all that comfortable to you as you looked at him, how his body was laying, but you supposed having been through what he just went through, anything but the cold floor of the woods would be better. You knew you were sitting in a small pile of mud from Blue Eyes’ feet standing here previously and he had just departed about fifteen minutes ago to rally those who still supported Caesar, as instructed by Caesar who had a great moment of lucidity before he tumbled into another dreamless fit of sleep. You were left to watch him - by choice, not by force. On the other side of the living room, you figured it might have been a dining room at one time, laid Ellie, Malcolm and Alexander, wound against each other with their blankets. You were envious of that - the warmth they must have felt as you let your eyes fall down to the wound on Caesar’s muscular chest.

It was hard to see in the dim light that was seeping in through the window and the shallow light of a broken lamp in the corner. His fur was so dark that the blood was ultimately undetectable unless you were really looking for it, some of his fur clumping together with the wetness. It was not as bad as it had been, at least you had that small dabble of optimism to cling to as you surveyed your surroundings for the first time, having been previously occupied helping Ellie with Caesar. 

You had not been inside of an actual house in years, you tried to focus on something else other than Caesar’s breathing. Something that would take the edge off as you were now waiting for Blue Eyes to return with the rally. Across the bay, they were heavily rummaged through after the Flu wiped out most of the population, and in a bid to not get shot by another Human, you strayed away from them and focused your attention more on abandoned camps and Colonies that were spread around the area. 

Your eyes turned for a second so you could look at the room you were in. The couch Caesar was against was bright orange and set into a frame of dark wood, explicitly noticeable given the low light you found yourself wrapped in. Trailing your fingers along the wood, you marveled at how smooth it was under touch and smiled dimly. There were shattered photographs lining along the baseboards, scattered like memories as they fell from the wall onto the ground. Grunting quietly, you lifted your body in an attempt to stave sleep off. It felt like you were trapped outside of your body, outside looking in and your feet trailed you around. There were no evident indications on your first sweep of the room of whose home this was, what kind of life they lived other than an abandoned piano across from where Caesar was laying. He brought you here though, a space of solace as Koba began to wage war on the Colony near the mouth of the Golden Gate Bridge. A place where… He was able to tell Malcolm where to drive like he had just been here the day before. The pictures you had seen decrepit on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass from the picture frame colliding with the ground and dust. You squinted and dropped your body into a squat as you reached for one of the frames. 

Picking it up carefully, you shook the glass right out of the frame and dabbled the picture right out of the wood, holding it bare against your fingers. Swiping along it with your middle and pointer finger, the dust cleared away and you studied it intently.  Three humans, you smiled at them in the photograph like they were smiling at you and not frozen in the endless vortex of time. Two men, one older, one younger and a female. A melancholic feeling hit your chest when you drifted your fingers over the young man and woman.  You traced their faces with a gentle touch, wiping the dust away in the process. It felt like years since you had seen a genuine smile like theirs, like that of the young man in the picture. Since you had seen undiluted love like how the woman looked at him, and pure bond like the older man displayed to who you presumed to be his son. It had been years since you had seen these expressions within Humans, but you were reminded of the Apes.

How closely Caesar held Blue Eyes, brows kissing each other.

How, in rare moments of vulnerability, Caesar told you about Cornelia, about the shortened time they had together. 

Your fingers lingered on the woman in the picture. 

How you looked at Caesar, with such awe and wonder.

A moment captured for you to look at years later and feel painstakingly yearning. They remained captured in pictures. Forever immortalized until they faded into oblivion.

A shot of electricity went down your spine at the call of your name from a deep baritone, rounded with seeped deep agony. Quickly, you wiped your eyes of their budding tears and moved towards the Ape who had called your name, clutching the picture tightly to your chest. “Caesar.” You gasped out and bent to crouch near him so you were able to look at him eye to eye. 

Heart sinking a bit in your chest at the state his face appeared to be in, so tired and forlorn with betrayal, his wrinkles seemed as prominent as ever as the lovely nature of his hazel eyes bore right into yours, reddened around the edges. “Blue Eyes isn’t back yet,” You started, figuring that’s where the conversation was going to go either way. “You--- You should rest,” The voice you were using was nothing more than a whisper, your eyes flickering for a moment to the entry point on his shoulder and then back to meet his gaze. “Ellie said resting was the best thing for you to do---” “Do… not feel... like resting.” Caesar said through gritted teeth and pensively shut his eyes for a few seconds, and when he reopened them, they were fixated on the ceiling above with a sparkle of what you would describe as being familiar like he had been here before. With a wash of air against you, Caesar propped his body up further so he was sitting up rather than laying stagnantly. At least he was able to support his body weight, you thought and inadvertently reached forward to help him, but shook off your attempt once he looked at you again with an intent glance. Shuffling around a bit, you realized that Caesar sat up so you could sit down next to him, giving enough room on the ledge of the couch for you to rest somewhat comfortably against his legs. Resting the picture you had in your hands in your lap, you raised your hand and lightly let your fingertips float above his wound. Never actually making contact with it, but you were so near to him that Caesar’s body tensed in anticipation of you actually making contact. “What… What happened?” “Koba… Started this… I must end it… Before it is too late…” He muttered to you and looked at the photograph in your lap for a few seconds too long, an oddly reminiscent sensation taking hold of the Ape King’s chest and swelling it with the uncomfortable notion that you had deduced where you were before he had the opportunity to tell you himself. But, from your lack of questioning regarding the matter, that did not seem to be the case. Caesar drew a raggedly breath in, squeezing his eyes shut as a splash of fire radiated along his chest, across his entire pectoral region despite the wound being on his left shoulder. It had already begun, the war itself. There was nothing that Caesar could do now to stop it, even Caesar had to know that despite his best efforts to presume that it was not a logical possibility.

Still, he moved, still he preserved and survived, sending his son to gather the troops that were as loyal as ever to their King with a plan and what you hoped to be a successful execution. The support he got from his child, from the Apes who refused to follow Koba into battle, was remarkable, and just seeing the respect he garnered by simply walking into a room always left you breathless. That kind of support that humanity lost throughout the years and it was only peppered amongst the bigger colonies and camps, and no doubt, it was going to get worse once they allied against another enemy. He was in pain, surely, but knowing him, you knew he was going to push past it for the sake of the Apes and their rights to freedom. 

“Never wanted… to come back here…” He gestured vaguely, eyes blurring out of focus for a second, moving his uninjured shoulder a bit to bring your attention to the room you were in, “This place…” His voice was hitting in a deeply rich tone, coming straight from his chest and bubbled shamelessly around you. No matter what he said, no matter how it was directed at you, you would always find yourself listening and yearning for more. 

“You know this place…?” Of course he did, you thought to yourself. He just said that! Tightening your grip on the photograph in your hands, you clenched your jaw at his meager head nod, the question you had asked was rebudent and did not need a verbal confirmation. “Wh--- Where are we?” “In the city,” He grunted softly, looking at the photograph in your hands again. This time, you caught the minor movement and flipped it over gently so he could see what was actually printed on the other side. Caesar only glanced at it a moment before preemptively moving his eyes to an indirect source on the wall to the left. “A place… from another time…” 

He moved next to you again, this time urging you to move as well as his legs hit against your back. You drifted to your feet slowly and watched as he placed his feet onto the ground and hoisted his torso up with a sweeping movement. “Come,” He was suddenly standing, and you went to grab him before he tumbled straight back down. Caesar only held up a hand, telling you to stop and that he was more than capable of moving now. He better have been, knowing where he was going once Blue Eyes returned. “I… will show you…”

Silence hit the two of you like a blanket as he stepped forward, bracing his entire weight on one foot first to see if he was okay to proceed. Nodding to himself, Caesar assessed and began trailing towards the stairs, and upwards. It was obvious from the gait of his walk and how he was holding himself with one arm that the pain was eradicating all his other senses, and yet… He still moved, determined almost.  On the landing, your eyes caught focus of the books that were strewn about the built in bookcases lining the wall. All the good material was taken, a few encyclopedias and music books remaining now. 

Then, to the right. You had your suspensions, but now? Confidence beamed inside of your head that your intuition was correct, that Caesar had vast knowledge of this home, where to go, where things may have been hidden. In his bloodied state, he gestured you up the ladder towards the attic, and with a contemplative stare at him, his unequivocal, you succumbed and moved upwards, Caesar right behind you.

With a small ‘thud’ of your feet against the wooden floor, you scooted to the side for the Ape behind you to come to rest his feet on the floor. Rest, he did not though. There was a wash of familiarity on his face as he looked into the room, bending his head down enough to get in from under the beam that had fallen from the ceiling. He had resumed his regular movements, broad, intimidating, but his expression was beyond that and seeped at you intense vulnerability. 

Swallowing gently, you followed him, almost like you were in a dream like state. This… place… You looked at the gymnastic-like set up, chains holding onto loops, one chain dangling, holding a weight at the end, only a few inches off the ground that Caesar grasped into his powerful hand and shifted to the left and watched it in a hypnotic state as it moved back towards him. There was a chess-board, or at least, that’s what it appeared to be as you moved towards the bed, lightly placing your fingers against a pawn as Caesar’s attention was captured by a cam-corder sitting on the desk. Almost hesitantly, he picked it up and analyzed it as he so often did with human technology in his possession. 

“This was,” The screen flashed blue against his already stark features, illuminating it just enough for you to see the flood of what had to be tears right under his eyes. “My home.” 

Mouth agape now at that confession, you suddenly had so much to ask but so little came out as he finnicked around the cam-corder, unplugging it with one hand as he moved towards the bed to finally rest. Much needed, he thought to himself and shut his eyes as his body weight fell onto the mattress. Rounding the iron framing of the twin bed, you felt heavy next to him. His… home? This place? This house? You knew that he lived with Humans, that he had been raised by them, but you had no idea the extent. In your mind, you could see the photograph ingrained on your eyelids, despite it being tucked away in your back pocket for safe keeping. No reason to keep it, you just felt a pull to. 

Caesar, Caesar, look. 

At the sound of a human, you instinctively kicked yourself out of your inner thoughts and realized that the Ape had begun playing whatever was recorded on the device he had intense interest in. 

Apple.

Apple.

Good!Fixation was heavy on the small screen as you both watched it. The man… The same one from the photograph in your pocket and… Widening your eyes in shock, seeing the all encompassing scar on his chest, your mouth felt dry all of a sudden when you came to the candance that you were seeing Caesar… Young… incredibly so, he was so small, the innocence that lingered in his gaze as he looked at the Human showing him sign, the reminiscent stare he now had at the screen. It was flooding back, wave after wave, knowing that Chimpanzee’s couldn’t swim and he’d be brutally swept up in them. Home.  Gently said.

Home. A bit more sternly.

Home. Adamantly. 

You were glad to have a voice to the face. 

Yes. He chuckled and that prickled at your ears. The sound of a Human laughing, and it must have evoked something to Caesar as he huffed in response to seeing himself younger, reaching out with one of his arms to grasp at the man. This is your home. Your home. 

Good, good… That’s good.

The screen flashed a vibrant blue right as the young Caesar had gone to embrace the man, three small beeps coming to the device. That’s all that was on there. Introspectively, the camera was shut, the screen no longer giving any illumination against Caesar’s face as it rested lightly on the bed beside him. 

“Was that…” Your voice came out remarkably quiet and timid, not quite sure if it was appropriate to speak, “That man, was he…?” “A… good man.” You looked at the recorder and then trailed your gaze up Caesar’s body. He wasn’t closing himself off like he often did when you’d bring up the past, about personal details. Your eyes met, and in the soft moonlight that came through the window, you moved towards him, one step… two… And suddenly, you were right in front of him, between the legs he had open for balance as he sat. His eyes rested on your mild collarbone for a few seconds, admiring the gentle nature of your breathing before he shut them and you were no longer able to drown in the color you had come to adore. 

“He raised you.” Nothing more than a peep, Caesar reacted to that with semi-tightened shoulders and a curt nod of the head. “What was… his name?” His jaw moved unexpectedly, dancing forwards and backwards in deep contemplation as his teeth gilded against each other. Caesar had known you were going to ask, but he hadn’t expected the video, he hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to answer, to just say a simple name. So difficult to see him again, to hear his voice, to see himself before the Rise, and before he stepped until weighted down power and responsibilities.

He felt so torn; the knowledge that he would not be there in front of you without the downfall of them. The resistance he had all these years not to think about them, not to remember them as individuals, but as a whole. Humans. But you… were human, and you were not a whole to Caesar. You were an individual, he’d consider you an equal in knowledge and understanding, and if he had been thinking in all logical and illogical perspectives, you would be equal in other, more satisfyingly quipped ways.

Maybe, he told himself with a blur of his eyes as he tried to focus on you in front of him, maybe if this ended and he defeated Koba, and if he found a solemn and safe place for the Apes to go to, he’d change that if you were willing to accept. 

“Will,” Caesar finally spoke and you felt your breath exhale at that, you hadn’t even noticed you were holding it in. “And… the others,” Unexpectedly, he reached around and tugged the photograph from your back pocket. The fact that he knew it was there shouted at you that he was always paying attention to even the smallest movements, as you had shoved it into your pocket quickly when he stood up earlier. “Caroline,” His thick finger pointed at the woman, then swept to the old man, “Charles.” You looked at them and traced their faces. Will, Caroline and Charles… Caesar’s family before he… Gently, you folded the photograph up as you grasped it from him. He did not protest, but looked up at you with sunken eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I never should have…” “They… were good,” Caesar chided and scooted over for you to sit down next to him. Enjoying the sensation of the bed dipping in as you dropped next to him, he continued in a rumbling voice, quite enough that you wouldn’t wake the others downstairs, “Reason why… I… choose to believe… in the good… in you.” You knew that he was talking in broadened terms, that he did not mean explicitly you. But, it was taken that way, and you figured that Caesar was intuitive to know how his words were going to come across once they fell on your ears. How his glances at you were going to be interpreted. “You miss them.” 

That wasn’t a question, it was a fact. An irrefutable one as Caesar drew his gaze into your own, deeper than the ocean and intense that it took the breath right out of your lungs and you felt like you were scrabbling for air. Wrapped up again in silence, you found your eyes lightly dancing between his own, and you were so near, you could smell the irony nature of the blood that was clinging to his fur, feeling his hot breath against his face as his mouth fell open. Caesar didn't feel the need to say anything from that, making his answer evident enough by bringing you into the room he once called his own. 

‘I do not dwell on them.’ He signed at you, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t telling you a lie, that it was the truth, that he did not dwell, or think about them, late at night by himself. Caesar tilted his head to the side wearily. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it verbally. ‘Pointless,’ your eyes watched his fingers and hands move, ‘To live in the past..’

“Not pointless to forget, though.” Muttering softly, Caesar watched your lips form the words with deep intent. “We… can’t live in the future without remembering our past.”

[ancientcharm]

'I only long for a couple of things: first, to free, upon my death, the Roman people; This will be the greatest favor that the immortal gods can grant me; the second, that what happens to each one is what he deserves according to the good or evil he has done to the republic. ' (M. T. Cicero, Philippicae, II)

Cicero wrote this Philippic when he already knew that he would soon be executed by Triumvirate.

Marcus Tullius Cicero (January 3, 106 BC - December 7, 43 BC) was a Roman politician, philosopher, writer and orator. He is considered one of the greatest rhetoricians of the Roman Republic.

He vehemently opposed the political coalition between Caesar, Pompey the Great and Crassus, a private arrangement between the three, known as the "Triumvirate", although modern historians agree against calling it that; "it was a gang of three," said Professor Mary Beard. "A three-headed monster," said Cicero, and was banished for a year for it.

After Caesar was proclaimed perpetual dictator, Cicero resigned from political life. Following Caesar's assassination, in which Cicero had no part, he returning and became an enemy of Mark Antony- who was taking Caesar's place, although he was never dictator as that office was abolished -attacking him in a series of speeches.

Caesar's nephew, adopted son and heir, Octavian, approached Cicero and convinced him of the advisability of supporting him to be consul, despite being a young man of 19 (he had to be at least 30 for that position) convincing him that they could thus get rid of the tyrant Mark Antony. Incredibly, Cicero fell right into the young man's trap. Octavian joined Mark Antony and Lepidus to create an Official Triumvirate, taking absolute control of politics and determined to eliminate all of Julius Caesar's opponents, including Cicero. The last hope of returning the Republic to normality was over.

Cicero was proscribed as an enemy of the state by the Triumvirate and executed by soldiers after being intercepted while trying to flee to the Italian peninsula. On 7 December 43 BC the Triumvir Mark Antony ordered his assassination and that his hands be displayed on the rostra in the Forum.

Cicero, consul in 63 BC, depicted in an 1889 fresco by Cesare Maccari, denouncing Catiline's conspiracy to overthrow the Republic and exposing his conspiracy before the Senate. When conspirators within the city were later arrested, Cicero referred their fate to the Senate, triggering a debate in which Caesar as praetor-elect participated.

Cicero, like Cato the Elder, was a Homus Novus (new man). In ancient Rome, this was the name given to a politician, specially a Consul, who had no one in his family who had held public office; that is, he made his career not through family influence but on his own.

During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance Cicero was held in high esteem and his prestige increased during the Enlightenment of the 18th century. His works are among the most important from the Roman Republic.

Cicero is considered one of the most virtuous and appreciated men of his time for his unwavering love for the Republic, his political career built on his personal effort, his honesty, his immutable ideals and his courageous speeches against injustice or tyranny.

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

->

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TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[merbear25]

Hello ! I hope you're doing well <3 Spookie season almost reachs his end, i hope you'll have a nice halloween night !

Again here to request something for our dear Mad scientist. Something special ~ We all know Caesar is a freak, but his how deep is his loves for death, pain and chemical warfare ? How much does it affect him... May I request a NSFW fanfic of him, sharing a pleasant moment with one of his colleague or assistant ( a x.reader fem ) : Testing the new formula of his latest deadly creation on a subject behind the protective glass of his private lab. The moans of pain and cries of agony lasting for long minutes being a sweet lullaby to his ears. And sharing this with the woman at his side was driving him insane to the point he couldn't hide the depth of his excitement. It could be a established or unestablished relationship. Maybe a x.reader not as innocent or submissive as usual ~ This idea was clearly based on the scenes where he describe his experimentation, like the one with KX launcher, or Koro gas ~

Art by me on @ask-caesarclown-shurororo

I'm always down to write darker themes, so thanks for sending this in. I hope you like it💜💜

Gasps for air, bursting flesh, and the pleading look of panic left him in glee. The flush on his cheeks complimented the heat rising within him as he squirmed and shifted with excitement. Such glorious sounds and delightful imagery sent him into a frenzy. He was restless, needing to release this pent-up energy. That was when it dawned on him—his astute assistant. You’d be the one entrusted to rid him of these overwhelming urges.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, mentions of death, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, 69-ing, orgasm denial, implied creampie

The thrilling chill of death (Caesar)

Collapsing one right after the other, each person had their lungs seared with most having no more than slight discoloration on their necks. That tingling feeling was creeping up on him again. Watching the henchmen look at him with such heart-sinking betrayal when those doors closed and the toxins seeped in and that light in their eyes flickering until it went out completely—a thrill like nothing else.

A familiar heat nipped at his cheeks the longer he looked at them. Tilting his head from side to side, he examined each person’s reaction to the chemical carefully. Some exhibited greenish boils around their throats, while others maintained a green tint up til their untimely deaths. A boyish grin played on his lips at the thought of further testing. 

“What a promising future you have,” he chirped at the clouds dissipating into a light mist. The adoration he felt was making him salivate. He placed his hand upon the glass, not even holding back the furious blush on his cheeks.

He couldn’t help the little sway of his body when he journeyed back over to the computer. Humming to himself, the clicks of the keys matched his uncharacteristically upbeat mood. Pictures of what would become of the victims played in his mind, further sending him into a fit of excitement. However, the rhythmic beating of his thrill seeking heart was not the only part of him pulsating. With all this delight swarming around him, there was bound to be an effect on him elsewhere.

His eye twitched in slight irritation, when feeling a stir in his pants. The thought of setting a moment aside to take care of it himself crossed his mind, but a thoughtful knock on the metal door side-tracked this idea. There you were, prepared with the requested documents as always. His fingers tapped on the doorframe as he took a closer look at you, trying to gauge just what exactly your deal was.

Your eyes flickered over to the glass walls still containing the dead bodies, but his never left you. They held onto the rise and fall of your chest and the dilation in your eyes. Such subtle shifts that indicated interest, which bordered arousal. He stepped aside to welcome you in. 

“Would you like to take a closer look?” After he slammed the door behind you, his pearly white smile and glowing eyes kept on your heels.

You kneeled down to get a better look at what had become of these men. No fear pumped through your veins, just morbid curiosity that alluded to more degenerate interests. He leaned down, allowing his long raven hair to tickle your skin. “Do you want to see it in action?”

“Yes, actually…” The dark desire to witness death first-hand was something you forbade yourself from ever disclosing to others. However, Caesar was different. He would never be turned away from one who harbored such impurity. How could he when he was the same?

A symphony of hissing gas blended with soft chuckles—an orchestral performance to which the body going limp behind the thick paned glass was forcibly mute. Banging on the clear material soon turned into faint taps. An ill-fated guinea pig that was plucked from the litter and served its purpose, the hand of death held it closely while the gas filled the chamber in thick green clouds.

The sweet embrace of death—sweet to the onlooker but bitter to the one it was casted on. The orchestrator remained at attention not quite ready to pull himself away from the show as the final hums of the finale lingered. Their whispers caressed his ears, further bewitching him in the sounds of blissful horrors. His unsettling grin was now pressed into a content smile, his lips twitching slightly. He wet them as if to savor the remains of tragedy.

Tilting his head up to the ceiling, he let out a deep sigh. “You know, there’s nothing quite like the scent of death and despair to really get the blood pumping.” The gentle shift of his head towards you sent a thrill up your spine. His eyes peered down at you, their golden color practically dancing with anticipation. “But, I suppose you already know that.”

His perceptive remark tugged at the ball tightening in your chest. You could feel the sparks of witnessing death surging through you. The intensity in your eyes matched his, and the subtle nod you gave him only whetted his appetite.

Briefly, he pulled his attention back to the caged body. “Dying behind bars, well glass in this case,” he chuckled while looking at the lifeless form. “No hope of escape, only agony.” His voice was becoming higher pitched, mocking one of those who followed him so blindly.

“Watching the light in his eyes fade was truly remarkable,” you mentioned in a dreamy voice, recalling that faith he’d put in your Master getting snatched away.

“Yes…” he drew out. “It’s enough to make one giddy.” His eyes darted back to you. His lips stretched into a sinister grin once more as your gratification was becoming more and more apparent. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and clicked his tongue. “The night is far too young to call it quits now. Why don’t we bring in another? Just to really test all the ins and outs.”

The dragging of the corpse was promptly followed by promises that flowed past his lips so easily. Uplifting, inspirational, drenched with hope: each word had thorns hidden beneath the surface. The piercing blades stabbed into their sides once that moment of clarity came fatally late.

This one was a screamer. Even behind the barrier those choked cries for help carried through to both of you, and you couldn’t stop your heart from racing. Your pupils dilated while this man, whose gravest mistake was placing his trust in the wrong hands, began convulsing on the floor. You didn’t notice at first when Caesar turned to look at you; he was riddled with pleasure both from the shrieks of pain and the desire clearly bubbling within you.

He loomed over you, the sheer size of him causing your breath to catch in your throat. That look in your eyes… it earned a sly grin because he was sure of the type of woman you were, and he was unwilling to hold back from exploiting that any longer. 

Lips crashing into yours, the motion from his body carried so much force that you were levitated off the ground. Scooping you up in his arms, he held onto you tightly. You wrapped your legs around him, letting the skirt of your dress ride up your bare thighs. His fingers pressed into you while they cupped the delicate curves of your backside. While teasing the lining of your panties, his tongue traced your bottom lip. That little quiver from you made his eyes roll back.

His digits slipped under the cotton fabric and slid between your folds. A shaky moan escaped you when his fingers caressed your swollen clit. Looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, his wicked expression from earlier had shifted to one of arousal. Capturing your lips once more, each whimper and groan from you was devoured. His eagerness demanded entry into your mouth, finally allowing your tongues to tangle. As you panted in ecstasy, he plunged two fingers past your glistening lips. Those long digits curled within you, teasing your g-spot to coax any lewd sound out of you.

Watching you unravel with such ease had him breathing heavily. The look of bliss upon your face was made all the better with the dying man’s pleas in the background. Just as you looked as if you were going to delve into the pits of ecstasy, he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whimpering protest was quickly silenced with another sloppy kiss, this time coupled with his own desperate sounds for more.

When you nipped at his bottom lips, you lit a fire in him. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. The quick flip of your body onto the table caused you to shriek, but that shocked voice only made you that much more alluring to him.

Your voice hitched into choked gasps as he pushed as much of himself into you as he could. The stretching of your walls, the spasming of them, the warmth encasing him: your body was heaven on Earth. Thrusting into you slowly at first, he savored your high pitched moans as the tip of his cock pressed against your sweet spot. The fluttering sensation made him thrust harder and faster. Watching you claw at the surface and listening to your sweet euphoric moans stirred something primal in him.

His hands gripped so tightly on your hips that it was nearly painful. You were nearing that blissful peak once again, he could sense it. Just as you were about to fall off the cliff, he pulled out. Your sobs of frustration were muffled against the desk. Your hips swayed, offering you up as a forbidden fruit which he couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into. 

He hooked his arms under you, lifting your molten core to his parched mouth. He wasted no time in trailing his tongue over your pursed lips. It swirled around your engorged clit, while his hot breath bathed your sensitive skin before devouring every inch of it.

Your cries and shakes fed into his ego. Such a deliciously twisted little thing you were, a woman who could finally get that scratch he couldn’t reach. His long hot tongue coated you, plunged into you, swirled along every inch all in an attempt to strangle each groan out of you. His cock twitched from under you, beading with precum. You began stroking him, adoring the feel of him pulsating under your touch. You were able to fit just a little more than the head into your mouth, but that didn’t stop you from attempting to thrust even more down your throat.

He began moaning for more as he bucked his hips slightly. One of his hands tangled in your hair to hold you in place as he sought out more from your delectable mouth. Your gagging and coughing only made him crazier. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” He nipped at your abused nub before throwing you back on his shaft.

He dipped into your core again, groaning as he slid in with more ease. Your body quaked around him, so desperate for release. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, letting your quickened pulse dance under his grasp. His arm snaked around your waist, holding you closely as he thrusted deep inside you.

Your grunts of urgency, the way your nails scraped up his arms, and the tightening of your core: you were right where he needed you. He tilted your lustful expression back towards the test subject—died for the sole purpose of riling both of you up. An image that should have provoked disgust, instead had you singing more loudly for Caesar. He aided his thrusts with rough throws of your body against his hips.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he growled.

“I-I love it. Love it so fucking much.” Your slick arousal was coating him entirely. Wet slapping of your hips colliding was making it more difficult to hold himself together. Your chest heaved and your breaths became shallow. The sensation of your body tensing tore away any shred of control remaining.

In shared cries and groans of blissful sin, your bodies trembled from the lingering shockwaves. Easing you down, your legs buckled under you. Unbothered laughs came from above. He couldn’t help himself; witnessing you in such a state went straight to his pride. Inflating his ego even more was the sight of the trickles of cum pooling beneath your still shaky hips. A hum of satisfaction left him before he scooped you up in his arms. Your body was still flushed, and the heat of it was far more contagious than any disease he could conjure. 

His hands favored resting on certain curves of your figure as he carried you the short journey to the bedroom. Images of those unlucky souls having their lives ripped away were still playing in your mind. When Caesar placed you on the bed, his eyes roamed over you, feeling fairly pleased with himself.

His fingers traced up the softness of your thighs, making you shiver. He grinned down at you, knowing full well the boundless fun that awaited you both.

[whencyclopedia]

Vitellius

Vitellius was Roman emperor from April to December 69 CE. Vitellius was the third of the four emperors who ruled the Roman Empire in the year 69 CE. One of his predecessors, Galba, who had replaced the fallen Emperor Nero, was murdered by the Praetorian Guard for failing to keep promises to those who had put him in power. Emperor Otho, Galba's successor, committed suicide before the imposing armies of Vitellius reached Rome. He had chosen to sacrifice his own life instead of those of his men. Vitellius, like the previous two occupants of the throne, would not remain in power long.

Aulus Vitellius was born in September of 14 CE (there is some conflict as to the exact date). He was the son of Lucius Vitellius, a consul and former governor of Syria, and a noble woman Sextilia. Historian Suetonius in his The Twelve Caesars wrote that there were conflicting stories concerning his family, possibly noble, possibly not. Although accused of high treason (not uncommon in the Empire in those days), Lucius was still awarded a public funeral and a statue at Rosha. Vitellius spent most of his youth on the Isle of Capri with the self-imposed exile Emperor Tiberius. Later on, he would win the favour of three different emperors: Caligula (because of his chariot racing), Claudius (for his dice playing), and lastly Nero (who appreciated both of those talents). At many public events, Vitellius often persuaded Nero to sing and play the lute - something Nero rarely declined. Vitellius rose rapidly through various public offices eventually becoming Minister of Public Works and governor-general of Africa. He married twice: to Petroniana with whom he had one son (who was later poisoned, possibly by Vitellius) and to Galeria Fundana with whom he had one son and a daughter.

Throughout his public career, Vitellius was noted for two vices – gluttony and gambling; both would play a vital role in his future. Despite the lack of military experience, Emperor Galba made an unpopular decision and appointed him to be governor of Lower Germany in 68 CE. He felt Vitellius's vices would keep him from being a threat to his power. Suetonius wrote, “…. a glutton was the sort of rival whom he feared least, and that, he expected Vitellius to cram his belly with the fruits of the province.” The armies of Lower Germany, however, had a different view of the new governor-general - they welcomed him. They had little affection for Galba, even refusing to recognize him as the new emperor, and Galba had little love for them. Lower Germany had not participated in Galba's overthrow of Nero, thereby not benefitting from the financial gain that followed.

The army in Rome who had supported the new emperor soon became disgruntled with him. Much of the money that Galba gathered from tributes and land seizures was not spent on the troops but kept for himself. He no longer felt any loyalty to those who had put him on the throne. He would meet his death, however, at the hands of the Guard. Upon Galba's death, many favoured placing Vitellius on the throne; however, Otho, former governor of Lusitania, was named the emperor (mostly due to his role in Galba's assassination). According to Suetonius, many in the army of Lower Germany took an oath to support Vitellius, preferring him over Otho because he had “granted every favour asked of him.”

Upon ascending to the throne, Otho felt there was little need to fear Vitellius - the governor-general's quarrel had been with Galba, and he was dead. According to Suetonius, Vitellius, however, felt otherwise. When Vitellius heard of Galba's death, he divided his army into two separate divisions - one went to Gaul and one went to meet Otho north of Rome. According to Tacitus, “For most Romans the choice between Otho and Vitellius seemed to be simply one of two evils. It was the armies that decided, and the armies of Germany … were too much for Otho's praetorians and army of Italy.” Despite appeals from Otho, the two armies met at the First Battle of Bedriacum on April 16, 69 CE. It was on this day that Otho committed suicide. Although not present at the battle, Vitellius was immediately declared the new emperor and word was rushed to him in Gaul.

Prior to his assumption to the governorship of Germany, Vitellius has accumulated enormous debt (a result of his gambling habit). His position as emperor provided him an opportunity to rid himself of this massive debt. Suetonius said, “All the money-lenders, tax collectors and dealers who had ever dunned him at Rome, or demanded prompt payment for goods and services on the road, it is doubtful whether he showed mercy in a single instance.”

Many in Rome considered the new emperor to be cruel. Suetonius said he would kill or torture at “the slightest pretext.” Historian Cassius Dio wrote in his Roman History, “Vitellius, addicted as he was to luxury and licentiousness, no longer cared for anything else either human or divine … Now, when he was in a position of so great authority, his wantonness only increased, and he was squandering money most of the day and night alike.” As word of his diminished popularity among many in the army reached him, Vitellius became more generous in both public and private, hoping to maintain the loyalty of the troops. Suetonius wrote, “As things began to look bad for him, he began to show mercy.”

Many who had support Vitellius earlier began to swear allegiance to Titus Falvius Vespasianus (Vespasian), governor of Judea. When an attempted treaty failed (Vitellius had hoped to save himself from a sure death), the armies of the two met at the Second Battle of Bedriacum; Vitellius's men were soundly defeated. The soon-to-be dethroned emperor tried to escape Rome in disguise; however, he was captured by Vespasian's men, and while pleading for his life, he was dragged through the streets, tortured, killed (December 20, 69 CE) and thrown into the Tiber. Immediately, Vespasian was named the new emperor. Vitellius was fifty-six years old and had ruled for only eight months.

Continue reading...

[damnflirtyape]

I like to imagine that Lake became the leader of the apes after Caesar's death. I think we're given some hints in War that she's quite possibly the best candidate to fill the role. We're shown from her first moment on screen that she's compassionate and reliable, entrusted with the care of young apes and confident in her work.

She's included in Caesar's counsel when discussing the Clan's future and plans. She's not afraid to speak her mind and does not hold back when she disagrees with Winter. It's bittersweet to see her and Blue Eyes; they're a good balance, he's matured since the events of Dawn and now acts as peacemaker, they would have been good leaders together.

Even though she shows a deep respect for Caesar and doesn't challenge him, she does openly question him. She doesn't hide her shock or confusion at his choice to leave the Clan and his son, but still acquiesces to his request. She trusts him and demonstrates he can trust her.

And this trust is deep. She's one of the few apes taken captive who still trusts and believes in Caesar after everything they've endured. She's the only one who will still speak to him, to not treat him with contempt. She's patient and resilient, not unlike a much younger Caesar.

I think it's a testament to Lake's character in how she doesn't lose that trust and belief in Caesar, even when he's not thinking his actions through. Sure it spurs all the other apes on, a show of strength and defiance, but she understands how dire their situation really is, even before the Colonel gives Caesar a brutal demonstration.

And she takes it upon herself to protect their Clan. It's desperate, she's terrified, but someone has to protect the apes when Caesar is lost in his desire for revenge. It's a show of strength and defiance in a way, but not to challenge the Colonel's authority, it's a message to the apes that they can endure this together, together they are strong.

And the Clan listen to her. Someone has to have some sense and her compassion is not a weakness, it's a strength and keeps her thinking straight, keeping the apes safe from as much harm as possible being her priority.

And I feel like there's an echo of the first time we see Caesar in war here, apes parting to allow their leader through. The apes trust Lake's judgement; her strength, compassion and resilience make her a natural born leader. I feel like with Rocket and Maurice as her advisors, she could have been an amazing leader.

[tiny-librarian]

On this day in history, August 12th, two thousand and fifty four years ago, Cleopatra VII, the last active ruler of Ancient Egypt, committed suicide.

Eleven days previously, her husband Marc Antony had already done the same. The couple had been engaged in a civil war against Octavian, the great nephew of Julius Caesar who had been declared his legal heir. During the final battle in Alexandria, Antony suffered serious desertions among his troops and lost the fight. Upon his return, he falsely heard Cleopatra had killed herself and fell on his sword.

After Antony’s death, Octavian arrived in Egypt and effectively took Cleopatra and her children by Antony prisoner. She had sent her eldest son Caesarion, her only living child with Caesar, away for his own safety. She knew that Octavian planned for her to march in chains behind his chariot during his triumph parade, and would very likely have her killed afterwards. Rather than suffer such humiliations and indignity, she chose to take her own life.

Popular history and mythology leads us to believe that she was killed by inducing an asp to bite her, after having locked herself in her mausoleum with her two handmaidens. However, many modern scholars believe that she instead took a mixture of poisons, since the venom of an asp does not cause a quick or painless death. Octavian and his men found her too late to do anything, Cleopatra was already dead and one handmaiden, Iras, was nearly dead on the floor. The second, Charmian, was straightening the Queen’s diadem. According to legend, one of the men asked if this was well done of her mistress, and she shot back “Very well done, as befitting the descendant of so many noble Kings,“ before collapsing and dying herself.

Upon her death, Octavian honoured Cleopatra’s wish to be buried in her mausoleum at Antony’s side. He took her children with Antony, the twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios, along with their younger brother, Ptolemy Philadelphus, to Rome with him as prisoners of sorts. They were fated to march in his triumph parade in their mother’s place, the chains so heavy they could hardly walk. After this they were given to Octavian’s sister Octavia, who had been Antony’s third wife, to look after.

Cleopatra’s son with Caesar, Caesarion, was nominally sole ruler of Egypt after his mother’s death. Eleven days after her suicide, he was found after being lured back to Alexandria under false pretenses of being allowed to rule in his mother’s place. Octavian ordered his murder, on advice that “Two Caesar were too many.”

With Cleopatra’s death, and Caesarion’s subsequent murder, the rule of the Ptolemaic Dynasty came to an end and Egypt became a mere Roman Province.

[inseparabiles]

Give us your Geta thoughts…

We have so many Geta thoughts but they're like, impossible to just slap onto a post. God we just want to discuss Geta. I love how it flips every few weeks, first it's all about Geta then it's all about Caracalla and then back around it goes at some point all over again.

So, picking a thought about Geta to explore at random:

His thing with the gods. He's the only? I believe the only character consistently shown to be religious in the movie. Macrinus makes a reference to gods but I think it's less reverent than it is self-justifying, which, obviously Geta's is too, but Macrinus doesn't go into weird religious trances when he channels for his justification. To Macrinus, the gods are something that he uses - I believe - largely metaphorically; fate sent me here to bring down this empire, which has wrought so much havoc, and has no reason to exist beyond the suffering it has caused. Fate sent me to destroy what was built by self-important men who believe themselves better than all the rest, to avenge my own fate, and to simply watch the world burn so that something else will rise from its ashes. Macrinus does not care for one minute what that something else will be, all he cares about is revenge, to watch all which he hates burn to the ground knowing that it was his hands, after all those years when he was treated as nothing and less than nothing, surrounded by people who were so certain that this was an order as intended by the gods.

Geta, meanwhile.

How much of it is pure show? He knows he's making the choices, or at least he knows it in every other scene, excluding the one which makes you think if he actually does, which is his channeling for the fate of Acacius.

Obviously, Acacius is going to die. Obviously, Geta is putting on a show for the audience. But he is so lost in himself in that one. The film even cuts to Macrinus's reaction while Geta's channeling to show him raising his brows like what the fuck is this kid doing? Because what Geta's doing is not... just... what a caesar does, bringing down the "divine" justice - also known as his own decision - upon the fighters on the arena.

There's more to that, and it doesn't look like it's just for the show anymore. It could be, if he ever broke character, but he doesn't. There's not one minute in that scene where he doesn't move in an off way, where he doesn't act like he is, in fact, filled with divine will. There's none of the levity or childishness here that is so characteristic to him in other scenes; he's caught between this slow state, where he seems half someplace very far away and half there to speak that will which is revealed to him in that place that only he is privy to, and his own fear and agitation, and he flickers between the two.

It seems that he fully does, in this moment, believe that he is speaking to the gods, that the gods are presenting themselves through him, and it isn't just an act.

Does he have a history for this? We've talked about it with @cummodus a lot - what is Geta's actual relationship to the gods, to his own status as their "vessel" as he speaks it? Is this a recent development: does he turn to the gods now, when his last tethers to the mortal world have proven themselves to be as unpredictable and hostile and dangerous and unkind to him as his father's reign was? His father's love, which he felt in his violence alone? Is he turning to the gods for the first time, with his full faith and heart and soul, because everything else has abandoned him?

Or is this something that has been there all the time? Maybe the reason why Geta, alone, is the one who grants judgement on the arena - even when the games themselves are organised more to entertain his brother than they are for him, and, let's face is, much more than they ever are for any other purpose? Is this why Caracalla allows him to dominate that ultimate position between life and death - Caracalla, who loves nothing more than raining down death and watching his will be done? Because I find it very hard to believe that unless Geta has a very compelling reason for being the one in that position, Caracalla would be so complacent letting it slip from his own control. Least of all every time, but they're clearly not sharing. Yet Caracalla is equally an emperor, and one of the things Geta enjoys the most about the games is seeing his brother entertained and happy.

And if it's been like this for a long time, then when did it begin? In their childhood? Was this where they would retreat when they were afraid: leaning to the gods, who spoke their will through Geta to them? Is that, also, why Caracalla lets Geta make so many final decisions? Why he believes in Geta so much, when Geta is clearly just fucking lost half the time and has no damn clue what he's doing at all? Why does Caracalla have so much faith in Geta at all?

From the background, we can also wonder the significance of this with the knowledge that Geta and Caracalla's roles were originally reverse: Geta, as in real life, was meant to be the younger of the twins, essentially have Caracalla's role, until something was changed around prior to filming and finalising the script. In the storyboards, the Geta we have = Caracalla. And real Caracalla, the blorbo from our histories, was very religious. Is this a trait that was carried over, assigned to Geta through the switch?

The whole thing is fascinating, considering how much of the historical Roman Empire revolved around religion, and how utterly devoid of religion the Scott!verse is. In the first movie, we see altars and incense burned as offerings, but actual religion shines with its absence. Now, in the second film, we have... Poseidon (sigh), and we have Macrinus, and we have Geta.

And it just leaves so many questions that aren't answered anywhere in canon.

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Yandere Johnathan, Dio, Joseph, Caesar, Wammu, Jotaro, Josuke, Giorno and Jolyne Headcannons with a Female Tanjiro Reader? She’s kind, compassionate and fights to protect, save others and find a cure for her sister to turn her back into a human (She’s also a very hard working individual).

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, overprotective behavior, stalking, paranoia, manipulation, blackmail, guilt-tripping, gaslighting, isolation, abduction, death

To fit this theme better into the JoJo verse, darling’s sister is a vampire instead of a demon.

Tags: @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

Darling is like Tanjiro

Jonathan Joestar

💍Given your brave and kind personality, it is no wonder that Jonathan falls head over heels for you. Both of you fight side by side as his adopted brother Dio starts plotting his evil schemes with the new powers given to him by the stone mask. Your sister was one of the many victims that was turned by him yet somehow she retained her control and her heart as Dio didn't take over her mind. Despite Zeppeli's caution and advice that he should free your sister of her suffering, Jonathan is moved to tears as he witnesses the determination and love you have for your younger sister, solely led by his emotions as he offers to help you. After all your sister is very tame despite having been turned into a monster by Dio and hides during the day in a box you crafted for her. Both of you are trained together by Zeppeli in Hamon and join forces in order to put a stop to Dio's craving for power and to find a cure to turn your sister back into a normal human again.

💍​One would think that Jonathan should know best about your talents as he has trained together with you yet he falls fast and he falls fast, leaving him with the constant taste of fear and worry lingering on his mind and in his heart. Whenever a battle ensues, he always tries to shield you and to protect you out of fear that you might get hurt. Whenever he loses sight of you, his heart drops as paranoia quickly takes hold of him. He suffers the loss of his father and eventually the loss of Zeppeli and all of it only enforces his growing obsession as even his teacher ultimately dies, proving in his mind that even with all of your strength you can still fall during this battle. As someone who was raised to be nothing but a gentleman, it is his desire to cherish and to protect you yet he seems to overlook that his noble gestures to protect you are received as an insult from your side as you think that he is underestimating your strength. Whenever you confront him about it though, he shies away from the conflict, hating the thought of arguing with his sweetheart.

💍​Instead whenever conflict arises between you two, he tries to appease you in whatever way he can. At this point it is painfully obvious how he feels for you and Jonathan isn't even trying to hide it from you. He wants to treat you well and he does exactly that. In his mind fate must have brought you too together as both of you met, struck with tragedy inflicted upon the two of you by Dio. Sometimes his obsessive thoughts plague him and the shame comes crushing down on his heart yet more often he is prone to those delusional phases where he thinks of your meeting as destiny. The young Joestar heir has already plans to ask you for your hand in marriage as soon as both of you have won against Dio. He initially plans to ask you after peace has returned but depending on how paranoid and desperate he gets, he might even ask you beforehand if you'd do him the honor of letting him be your husband. He promises that he will worship you and do everything in his power to protect you and your sister.

Joseph Joestar

🦾​Joseph, Caesar and you form a trio when the Pillar Men appear as you have your own motivation for fighting them. During the expedition that Speedwagon took due to the rumored existence of other Stone Masks your sister, who was part of the team that accompanied him, was transformed into a vampire and you reunite with her during your first encounter with Stroheim who kept her alongside with Speedwagon captive. You are quite different from Joseph who relies on his wits and runs away when he realises that his situation looks helpless whilst you always stand your ground to save even those who do not deserve it even if you are only inches away from death. Multiple times he has sworn to not help you if you were to get in another such tense situation yet he has never had the heart to abandon you, leaving him no choice but to return and trick his way somehow out of the danger. Joseph always wants to scold you after every stunt you pull yet you always thank him with such a sincere look on your face that he doesn't have the heart to do so.

🦾​You are sometimes really too good for your own good as well as his own good yet despite the differences between you two, Joseph finds himself growing very attached to you and he knows that. Although he tries to hide his growing feelings, to people like Caesar it is quite obvious that he has caught feelings for you. Whenever there is a fight, he seems much more willing to fight and show off somehow but only when you are watching. Not to mention that he has gotten more hostile towards Caesar as he knows that that man has to flirt with every young woman within his vicinity, including you. He comes up with the most random bullshit to annoy you two only to interfere as soon as he notices that Caesar tries to flirt with you or simply just makes soma gagging sounds to distract you from him. Caesar might as well see it as a challenge as he openly admits to Joseph that he doesn't think that he would make a good partner for you. From that day on Joseph comes up with the most ridiculous things to keep you occupied with him.

🦾​Whilst it may appear like a bit of a cheap method, the fact that Speedwagon is looking out for your sister whilst you are helping to hunt down the Pillar Men in search of a cure is something Joseph uses to his advantage. After all he is quite close with Speedwagon so he likes to brag about it if he gets the chance. Throughout the entire time you three spend together, he starts slowly resenting your determination to help others though. He wouldn't call himself inherently a bad guy but he is also not someone who would willingly risk his life for some random stranger. You are the complete opposite as you always want to save everyone, something that sometimes isn't possible. He doesn't want you to lay down your life for random people, as noble as some people may think that is. In his mind it is simply stupid so during fights he starts actively dragging you away when he realises that the threat is too much to handle. He wants to live and he wants you to live as well. It is as simple as that. You want to see your sister being turned back to a human again, right? You won't witness that if you're dead.

Caesar A. Zeppeli

🫧​Lisa Lisa sends you as reinforcement during the earliest confrontation with the Pillar Men and whilst Joseph is initially gawking at you and wonders what you plan to add to the team, Caesar quickly shuts him up and apologises to you. Joseph truly has no manners when it comes to treating a pretty lady, plus he has utmost trust in his teacher so he has confidence in you. From the very beginning Caesar always favors you and treats you very well, although it is to be expected. As you join in the fights though and he gets to see just how much kindess and compassion you hold in your soul, his feelings deepen more and more. He truly admires your willpower and your determination to help people in need even if those people have threatened you before. Joseph, shrewd despite his sometimes stupid decisions, obviously notices the feelings of his rivals and starts teasing him about it. He goes too far when he tells you that Caesar catches feelings easily for women, something that almost ends in a fight between those two if it wouldn't have been for you stopping them.

🫧​His disdain for Joseph grows after that. How dare he even suggest to you that his feelings aren't sincere? Caesar urges you to not believe anything Joseph has told you as he swears to you that his feelings are sincere. When you three return to the island owed by Lisa Lisa, Caesar finds out about your sister that his teacher has kept safe during your absence. Initially he is very alerted as he doesn't trust your sister. She could pose a threat and harm you after all, even if she is also a lady. He knows that you would never let him harm her though as even Lisa Lisa assures him that she is different from the rest. After his wariness fades away, he can't help but wonder why you have never told him about her existence though. Do you not trust him? He immediately seeks you out to ask you about what has happened in your past and presses on even as you hesitate for a moment. When you eventually decide to tell him your tragic past, his heart starts bleeding for you. You poor thing have gone through so much...

🫧​After he has been entrusted with your path, he only starts feeling more protective about you. You are a woman too pure for everything you had to endure and it is your outstanding kindness that has him growing slowly more paranoid. He has seen terrible people in his life, people who would abuse your compassion and earnest desire to save others. He could never forgive someone if someone would stomp on your kindness and he could never forgive himself if he were to let anything happen to you. Caesar starts sticking close to you from that moment on, always paranoid when he isn't near you and can protect you. Obviously you address his smothering overprotective antics but you only get a lovesick smile in return and a kiss on your knuckles as he murmurs that he could never allow anything to harm you. In his eyes you deserve the world and nothing less after all the pain you had to go through and he intends to give the world to you. He is truly in love with you and in his eyes it is normal to protect the lady he plans to make his wife and spend his life with.

Wammu

🌪️​You are there together with Joseph and Caesar when the Pillar Men awaken and even if Wammu is far above you when it comes to strength, you refuse to back down. Even if you stand no chance against him, you stand time and time up again and he can tell that you put your all into this battle. There is a drive behind your eyes, a determination that keeps you going even if you shouldn't be able to stand anymore. It is that fire in your eyes that has his heart skipping a few beats as he proudly proclaims you as someone truly brave and worthy and even expresses gratitude that he was able to meet someone like you as soon as he has awakened. He almost doesn't want to kill you and Joseph, who has caught wind of Wammu's fascination with you, uses that partially to convince Wammu to let him and the others live for now so that they can return stronger. Wammu takes the bait, especially because he is eager to see how much stronger you will be the next time he sees you. You have the potential and willpower after all.

🌪️​His thoughts always seem to be around you as he eagerly and almost impatiently waits for the time to come and Kars and Esidisi sense his troubled feelings. Kars just bluntly advises him to take you if he desires you but Wammu refuses to use such underhanded methods as he prides himself as a strong and honorable warrior. So he chooses to challenge you when you find your way to him again to save Caesar as the young man impulsively storms into their hideout. As soon as you see how heavily wounded Caesar is, you are instantly willing to sacrifice yourself to save him and that is when Wammu offers you a deal. If you duel him and win, he will not only let Caesar go but also give you the antidote in his lip ring, something Joseph needs if he wants to survive. If you lose, he is free to do what he wants with you. You take the offer without a doubt and put a magnificent battle, even if he ultimately bests you. Even as you are bleeding heavily, you refuse to give up though and out of respect he not only lets Caesar live but gives him the antidote but takes you with him as you still lost and you accept it without throwing a tantrum.

🌪️​He caters instantly to your wounds as soon as he has taken you with a gentleness you didn't expect from a Pillar Man. After he has bandaged all of your wounds he decides to ask you what it is that motivates you so greatly and why you were so determined to find his kind. Initially you look at him silently and just as he is about to assure you that you don't have to tell him, you decide to open up. You confess to him that your sister was turned into a vampire due to a Stone Mask and that you had heard that his kind had invented them and so you had hoped to find a cure for her. Hearing your motivation truly only manifests you as a noble and honorable human as a warm feeling of pride spreads in his chest. It is in that moment that he decides that he desires to have you as his partner, though he is aware that you two stay on different sides of this current battle. Yet he sincerely wishes to help you so he makes another suggestion. He will help you to heal your sister but in return he asks of you to stay by his side as his lover in the future and remain loyal to him and he promises in return to cherish and love you until the end of time.

Kujo Jotaro

🚬​You join the crusaders during their long and difficult travels to reach Egypt and DIO somewhere along the way. Your first encounter with them almost ends in a big fight when your sister escapes during the night and crosses paths with Jotaro who initially mistakes her as another minion of DIO. You arrive just in time and throw yourself in front of her, fully prepared to take all of Star Platinum's punches to protect your little sibling only for his Stand to stop in the last second. When the rest of the group arrives, you find yourself able to explain the situation you are in and since you have the same goal as everyone, you decide to join them with your own respective Stand. Jotaro clarifies to you from the very beginning though that if your sister should ever turn attack them and let her instincts get the better of her, he will have to get rid of her. You manage to hold his stern gaze though and reassure him that it won't happen as your sister is different from the others.

🚬​As all of you continue their journey, Jotaro learns to value you as a member of the team. You are strong and even your sister joins the fights when there is no sunlight around. Although he will openly admit that your very idealistic goals to protect everyone are at times quite exhausting and both of you have gotten into a few fights already. Jotaro has less problems sacrificing a few people if it can't be helped and reprimands you for your silly daydreams that you will always be able to save everyone only for you to get mad at him and call him heartless in return. What you don't seem to realise is that Jotaro's harshness and rude words are born out of a growing worry he feels for you the longer you are part of the Crusaders. He won't grieve random people he couldn't save in time but you are no random stranger to him. You are someone he has learnt to value and respect and he won't just watch as you throw yourself in danger over and over again to save someone who doesn't deserve it as you even express kindness to their opponents, though only after they have been beaten.

🚬​The tension only grows the closer you get to your destination and the more you are put through. Jotaro's obsession at this point has already gotten to the point of no return and he knows that yet he hides it, clueless on how to even act on those feelings. Although they do slip out in the very unpleasant shape of growing oppression and control he starts to keep on you. He has had enough with your antics by now to the point where he even tries to remove you from the scene to prevent you from trying to play hero again. Star Platinum, his Stand, has started acting on Jotaro's obsession as well and shows the feelings the man is trying to suppress much more openly. If you are within vicinity, it will suddenly grab you and pull you instinctively closer to it, much to Jotaro's slight embarrassment as he doesn't plan to tell you of his feelings. You won't be involved in theit final battle, he already knows that you would end up sacrificing yourself for someone else. Don't worry though, he will keep his promise and find a cure for your sister. He isn't as heartless as you claim him to be after all.

DIO

🕰️​He feels like he is seeing a ghost of someone in you he has despised so much to the point where he feels the need to eradicate even the ancestors of said person. That's right. There is a resemblance of Jonathan DIO sees in you and whether it is his own petty hatred or a dormant fear he holds against the only man who ever beat him, he perceives you as a threat. He wants you gone and all of his minions are begging him to let them take care of you yet you have caught his attention to the point where he wishes to take care of you himself. Yet one of his pawns would not listen to him and assaults you themselves nevertheless only to be beaten by you and your sister. DIO couldn't care less about their death but it is the report that a vampire fought by your side that catches his attention. He's the only one who creates vampires. How is it then that someone who should obey him is fighting side by side with you? It seems like he can't just simply kill you after all. Instead he orders his pawns to gather information about you and the vampire fighting by your side.

🕰️​It doesn't take long for his minions to find what he wants to know as they are more than eager to please him however they can. Apparently your sister was turned into a vampire by one of his pawns he can't even remember and you are searching for him to demand for a cure to turn your sister back into a human. That's his chance. DIO can barely suppress the diabolical grin on his face as he realises that he could probably break you by tormenting you by using your sister against you. If he can gain control over her and order her to attack you, he is sure that he can break you down. As soon as you reach his hideout, his minions ambush you and even though you put up a brave fight, ultimately you are captured. His presence frightens you, he can tell as much by the way your heart hammers inside your chest yet you refuse to let any of your fear show as you stare him right into his eyes as he gloats about your loss, already suggesting with an evil gron on his face what he plans to do now that he has you and your sister.

🕰️​Yet you are so stubborn and headstrong and so is your sister as he is unable to gain control of her nor can he break you. He has always taken what he has wanted yet strangely enough he doesn't find himself displeased. Instead he revels in your unwavering determination and your immunity to fall for his charm, something that has brought countless men and women to their knees. After all the harder something is to obtain, the sweeter the taste of victory will be. He finds himself desiring to break you and then to possess you and to achieve that, he commits truly horrible deeds all to trigger your mental breakdown. He may force himself sexually on your sister whilst forcing you to watch or the other way around, will blackmail and threaten you to expose your sister to the sunlight and so many other things that should tear you apart yet even through your greatest sorrow and grief, that spark in your eyes never disappears. It frightens him a bit, confuses him to why you don't give up. Why do you persist? Wouldn't it be easier for you to just drown in your misery? You really are special, aren't you?

Higashikata Josuke

💎​Josuke is hotheaded and enjoying his life and his youth. He is quite passionate about showing his feelings which is why he has no real way to cover up his growing infatuation with you as he quickly descends down the stairs of obsession. Above all it is your kind and compassionate attitude that has won him over and he greatly admires you for the strong and forgiving person that you are. You even complimented his hair when you met for the first timw which only added fuel to the inferno. Due to his openess to express his feelings though, Josuke has no lid on his emotions which means that he has no real way to control him. He isn't even attempting to control them in the first place and this has led him to be quite volatile depending on how he feels. Whether he is euphoric or enraged, he will act on those emotions. His infatuation has made him quite clingy which is why he often follows you around and always desires to be with you as his mood is otherwise quite grumpy which means that he is quite easily angered.

💎​Okuyasu calls him one night and informs him that he has seen a strange person sneaking inside your house as he just happened to pass by and instantly Josuke is alarmed. He ignores his mother's confused questions as he rushes to your house in the middle of the night and pounds against the door, his heart hammering against his chest in fear. When you don't answer, he instantly assumes the worst and Crazy Diamond quicly destroys your door only to instantly repair it. He looks fully prepared to murder the strange woman he finds in your house but you arrive just in time to stop him and his stand from attacking her. With no ther choice left but to tell him the truth, you tell him that the person is your sister and your tragic backstory about how she was turned into a vampire and how you are desperately searching for a cure. A part of Josuke reacts quite intrigued because whilst he knows about the existence of stands, he has never known about the existence of vampires, although he also expresses his concern about your safety.

💎​When he realises how much you wish to turn your sister back into a human, his heart instantly melts and he promises to help you however he can. It is his duty as your boyfriend to make his girlfriend happy after all. You do not quite know what he is talking about, although you obviously have noticed the obvious crush he has on you. What you don't know as of now is that Josuke has gone genuinely delusional with his love for you to the point where he already thinks that both of you share the same love for each other. Even if the situation isn't pleasant for you, he sees this as his chance to shine and to make you love him even more than you already do in his mind. He starts speculating pretty soon that perhaps his own Stand Crazy Diamond could be the solution to all of your problems and the idea that he can be your hero excites him as he rambles to you about his idea. He truly feels like you two were meant to meet because what are the chances that he would have the perfect solution to turn your sister back into a normal human.

Giorno Giovanna

🐞​You have joined the Mafia a while ago yet you have quickly risen through the ranks. You are earnest and hardworking and hate to let people down, always set on fulfilling the missions you are entrusted with. On the other hand it is also that the Don favors you that you have gained so much in such a short time and his feelings for you only seem to get stronger the longer he gets to know you. You are the kindest soul he has ever met as you do not tolerate the abuse of power by others and refuse to follow orders if they go against your own set of morales. You have gone even as far as to sometimes suggest to Giorno himself that he could do something to better the way of the Mafia and if you would have been anyone else, he wouldn't have tolerated it with a genuine smile and a promise to consider your advice. Giorno isn't oblivious to his feelings and he isn't surprised either that he fell for you as hard as you did. Your kindness and compassion resemble the rays of sunshine and he knows that he wants that warmth for himself.

🐞​You have never really elaborated on your private life even if he questioned you gently about it. You may be able to fool others but not Giorno who has dedicated so much time to observe you and memorise your every reaction and emotion you have shown around him. You are hiding something from him, something that burdens you. You deserve better than that and whilst he recognises that you probably don't wish to worry him as you probably assume that he is already busy enough with his duties as the Don, you don't seem to understand that he sees his duties in catering to your needs and every worry just as much. With connections throughout the entire country, very soon he finds out sacred information you never wanted him to know. He soothes you as soon as you figure out what he has done as you feel like he has broken your trust as he gently holds your trembling hands and promises you in a gentle tone that he only wishes to help you. He already knows everything but won't you tell him yourself?

🐞​He promises you to protect your sister and keep her identity hidden just as much as he promises you to find a cure for her. Even if he knows that he has partially broken your faith in him by invading your personal life and finding out something you don't want anything to know, he would lie if he would claim that he feels guilty. Instead he feels like he understands you even better now than he understood you before as he now knows more about your personal motives for joining Passione. Not only that but he is not above realising how much control he would hold over you by using your biggest weakness in form of your sister against you. It is quite a cheap move and he knows that yet he will do what he must do to protect you and to keep you for himself. He cares too much to lose you after all. He is genuine when he swears to you that he really plans to find a cure for your sister. You should be prepared though that he will demand something in return from you for his assistance and it'll most likely be the first step to make you his forever.

Cujoh Jolyne

🪢​Jolyne and you meet in Green Dolphin Street as both of you were labeled as criminals. She has been betrayed by her ex who decided to blame the accident and the death of the car accident on her and you have been locked away because you have a history of breaking into rich and important people's houses, although you have never stolen something. Unfortunately you were caught and had been unfortunate enough to get caught by an especially unpleasant couple who made sure to lock you away for good. Both of you recognise that neither one of you is a bad person though and you hit it off quite well with each other. Her tough personality she likes to put on is something you learn to live with as you can kind of guess that she does this to hide her own vulnerability. You talk about all sorts of things as you spend your time together in jail as you treat her with kindness and respect. Something that makes her heart very flustered, although she doesn't want to admit it.

🪢​Jolyne has never been exposed to much kindness in her life as her own father has largely neglected her during her youth and so she is like a dry sponge who eagerly absorbs any kindness and compassion you give her. It is no wonder that you have her wrapped around your finger as quick as you do as she grows increasingly possessive and clingy. She is selfish about any kind word and any minute you can give her as she is very prone to jealousy as soon as you give your attention and sweetness to someone else but she doesn't care about such things, if she even recognises the wrongness of her feelings to begin with. she is just desperate for all of your attention and affection and doesn't shy away from beating someone up with her stand Stone Free to get rid of any unpleasant pesk who tries to get between you and her. You also join her when she plans to break out and she doesn't even have to beg you as you quickly agree. She is dear to you after all. A statement that turns her harsh facade to mush.

🪢​It is only a while later though that you confess to her that you have another reason for breaking out. You have a little sister who was turned into a vampire and you have been searching for clues how to cure her, hence why you broke into people's houses who you suspected to have something useful. Jolyne has rather mixed emotions when you tell her. On the one hand she does feel sorry for you and can understand your desire to help your sister. All of that doesn't compare to her jealousy though and even some part of her can admit that this is quite petty from her. It's your own sister after all, someone who would pose no threat as a possible rival. Jolyne's obsession goes beyond the simple jealousy of romantic rivals though. She strives to be the most important woman and person in your life and desires to have all of your attention and love for herself so your sister is still perceived as a rival as she wonders who you would choose if you had to do so. For now she has you for herself though and she tries to push the gnawing jealousy out of her mind, although she grows much more touchy as you work on breaking out of prison.

[kookysouthernskeleton]

May Writing Challenge Day 14: Memories (Caesar Zeppeli x Fem! Reader)

Warnings: Angst, spoilers for JJBA Battle Tendency

Word Count: 354

Every night, you fell in love all over again.

Whether it was under the stars, a blanket covering the cool grass beneath your bodies. Or dancing by moonlight to the sounds of the city just outside the apartment window. 

Every night felt like a fairytale, and it was all because of your Caesar.

His laugh brought a smile upon your face, and his voice caused your heart to wildly flutter akin to the butterflies that he brought to your stomach. And his touch…

It was always of the sweetest intention.

Fingertips gliding up and down your arms. Gentle hands resting upon your hips to tug you closer to his firm, unmoving body. 

And unmoving he was. Yes, Caesar was quite an immovable force. Nothing you did could ever run him away or make him afraid of you, for he was deeply enthralled with the entirety of your very being. But that meant he was also quite stubborn at that; it was an endearing trait though.

Oh, how you remembered so fondly of how stubborn he was.

But recently, your memories have begun to fade. It was customary because of your age, the doctor said. However, that doesn’t mean it made it any easier.

You clung to the memories of you and Caesar that happened so long ago back in your youth. Memories that you could never ever get back were suddenly fleeting. You found it hard to even remember the most basic things on a good day. 

His voice became an echo, and his face became a blur. Parts of his personality disappeared entirely, leaving you with only questions about the man you once knew and loved. 

You touch the necklace that hangs against your chest.

It was the last thing Caesar gave to you before his death. Had you known it would be the last time you would see him, you would have said so much more…

But alas, time goes on with or without you. Just as it did with your poor, beloved Caesar. And now you were left with nothing but these memories. Memories that too were going on without you.