#commodus fanfiction

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

[delicioushottubpeanut]

AHHH THIS EDIT- IM IN LOVE!!!!!

Credits: caralquii on tiktok

[divaofmads]

The Sinner’s Temple

Marcus Acacius x OC

A/N : This story is entirely non-canon. In the first film, Commodus wounded Maximus before stepping into the Colosseum to fight him, hoping to secure his victory. In this version, I am writing under the assumption that he succeeded. This means Commodus continues his reign with all his traumatic past and immoral personality intact. And since I really admire Joaquin Phoenix in that film, I figured—why not use him while I can?

A/N 2: I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills.

Summary: Commodus wanted to completely abolish the Senate, but a senator named Cassius, aware that his loyalty would ensure his survival, swore unwavering allegiance to him. However, Commodus once saw Cassius’ young daughter at a very young age and convinced himself that he could find the love his own family never gave him in her heart. He spent years waiting for the day she would grow up so he could marry her. But fate had already written a truth that would shatter all his plans.

!!Warnings!!: Non-Canon, Chronological Mistakes, +18, Fluff, Smut, MDNI, Angst, Big Age Gap (F 19 - M 50), No Y/N, Toxic Relationship, Possesive Marcus, Protective Marcus, Obsessive Commodus, Forbidden Romance, Oral Sex to woman, Fingering, Loss Virginity, Violence, If you're bothered by the fact that I don't write according to fan fiction rules, then don't read my work. Writing is just a hobby for me. I'm not a professional. I write to unwind after a long day at work.

Word Count: 13k

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The heart of the Roman Empire, the magnificent city where golden lights shimmered through the streets, was cooling with the evening breeze as always, in breathtaking beauty. Valeria walked through the garden of her family’s villa, surrounded by grand columns. Her long, wavy, light brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the simple white tunic she wore highlighted her serene elegance. Yet, her mind was in turmoil; her father had spoken to her about his long conversation with Commodus. A growing unease stirred within her—tonight, she would face the presence of this powerful man at dinner, and the thought weighed heavily on her heart.

Commodus was the ruler of the Roman Empire, but he was also arrogant, self-absorbed, and intoxicated by power. When he first laid eyes on Cassius’s daughter, Valeria, he had fallen in love with her—a golden opportunity for Cassius. However, unlike her father, Valeria was indifferent to the blinding glow of power.

That night, by her father’s command, Valeria was led to the private hall prepared for her dinner with Commodus. The room, illuminated by candlelight and adorned with golden details, resembled a royal feast, while the scent of jasmine flowers drifted in from the garden outside.

Commodus slowly rose to his feet as he saw Valeria enter. His eyes carried the shadow of a long-hidden desire. He wore a deep red toga, and on his right hand was a ring crafted from gold. With all his grandeur, he smiled at her.

"Valeria," he said, his voice both strong and soft. "You are as beautiful as a queen and as fearless as a warrior. I can see the spirit of Athena within you. Only you can be the wife Rome needs."

Valeria saw the unhealthy persistence in Commodus's eyes. His words proved how deeply he had thought about her, but her heart remained unmoved.

"Honorable Commodus," Valeria said with a graceful coolness in her voice. "I am honored, but tell me, what great favor do you expect me to be grateful for?"

Commodus never believed she would dare to refuse him. He smiled and stepped closer.

"I am not here to restrict your freedom; on the contrary, I am here to elevate you. As the Empress of Rome, no one would dare touch you. You will be raised above where any mortal could ever reach."

Valeria did not avert her gaze as she stood firmly before him. "But what is the meaning of being a queen in a place where a woman cannot love freely?" she asked.

A flicker of surprise appeared on Commodus’s face.

"Freedom…" he repeated slowly. "I understand the value of your freedom. That is why I am not offering it to you. I am offering you something far greater—the power of Rome. With me, you can build a world far beyond the limits of your own freedom."

Valeria took a deep breath. To her, Commodus’s love felt like a gilded cage—beautiful and golden, yet still a cage.

"If there is no other choice but this marriage, then you leave me with no choice at all, Commodus," Valeria said. "My heart does not beat for an empire."

These bold words momentarily startled Commodus. The mask of admiration on his face briefly gave way to anger, but upon witnessing Valeria’s determination, his expression shifted back to a smirk.

"That courage of yours is precisely what I love, Valeria," he said, a dark amusement in his voice. "But never forget—only I can match your courage."

Valeria knew this encounter was not an end but a beginning. She could feel that Commodus would not give up on her easily. Yet tonight, she would make it clear to everyone that her heart and freedom were not things to be easily claimed.

The Emperor took a few steps forward, leaning against the edge of the table, and gazed into Valeria’s eyes.

"Valeria…" he said, his voice now calmer but carrying an underlying sorrow. "Do not see my love for you as a command. It is a feeling older than all the splendor of Rome. Even when you were a child, I saw something in your eyes—an innocence no one else possessed. Something that was never granted to me since the day I was born… love. And I know that love exists only within you."

Valeria stood her ground, trying not to flinch at his words. In his eyes, she saw something breaking—but also the cold-blooded calculation of a predator watching its prey. Commodus hesitated for a moment, as if realizing that even revealing his own feelings was a weakness.

"I want to have you because only with you... I feel like I can be human," he continued. "You will be my balance, Valeria. I have never loved anything as much as I love you. To reject this love will not only lead to my ruin but yours as well. Because in Rome, there is nowhere you can escape from me."

Valeria's heart tightened. Commodus’s words only further revealed the magnitude of the danger she was in. But she held her head high, her gaze still locked onto his eyes with unwavering determination.

"Emperor Commodus," she said, her voice calm yet carrying the unyielding strength of steel. "My respect for you is boundless. However, you cannot expect me to bear your feelings as a burden. My heart does not beat to fulfill your desires."

Her words lashed through Commodus like a whip. His eyes narrowed, and the slight smile on his lips faded into a cold, emotionless expression. Even the warm candlelight filling the room could not dispel the darkness surrounding him. Slowly, he straightened, his tall figure casting a shadow over Valeria.

"Valeria," he said, his voice now disturbingly soft rather than sweet. "You misunderstand me. This is not a proposal. I came here to inform you that we will be married."

Valeria took a step back—not as a sign of fear, but as a deliberate move to step out of his shadow.

"You say you want my love, Commodus. But if you ever believe you have won me, know that there will be no love in that victory. Your promises are nothing but a gilded cage to me."

With those words, Commodus lost control entirely. His fists clenched, his golden ring pressing tightly into his palm. His eyes, dark and dangerous like those of a predator, fixated on Valeria.

"You truly have no idea what you are doing," he hissed. "But you will learn, Valeria. I will give you time to think. Three days… In three days, you will give me your answer. But if that answer is 'no'..." He paused, a dreadful silence settling over the room. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered with a painful sorrow, but it quickly hardened into cold resolve. "...the price you will pay will not only fall upon you but upon everyone you love."

There was no trace of fear on Valeria's face. Instead of breaking her resolve, Commodus’s threat only strengthened it.

Commodus lingered for a moment, staring at her. Then, with a sharp turn, he left the room, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor, leaving behind only Valeria and her unwavering defiance.

At that moment, Valeria understood more than ever how dangerous Commodus could be. But she already knew what her answer would be in three days. And that answer would ignite a war that would change the fate of the Roman Empire.

Minutes later, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the air. This time, it was her family.

Her father, Cassius, entered the room with his usual authoritative stance. His sharp features were drawn with tension, and his graying hair only accentuated the severity of his furrowed brows. Behind him stood Valeria’s older brother, Fabius. The young man carried himself with confidence, his shoulders squared in a display of self-assurance. The opulent gold embroidery on his toga spoke of his ambition, but the cunning glint in his eyes unsettled Valeria more than anything.

Cassius came to a halt before Valeria, his gaze lingering on her composed yet resolute stance. For a brief moment, there was admiration in his eyes but it quickly turned to fury.

"Valeria!" he thundered, his voice so powerful it seemed to make the candle flames flicker. "What do you think you are doing? Speaking to Commodus like that endangers not only your life but all of ours!"

Valeria refused to bow to her father's anger. Without breaking eye contact with his stern face, she responded in a calm voice, "Father, I am merely fighting for my freedom. What he feels is not love, but domination. And I will not submit to such a bond."

Cassius hesitated for a moment at her words. But his sense of duty and his family's safety overpowered his conscience. "This is about more than an individual’s freedom, Valeria! This is how the order of Rome works. If the Emperor has chosen you, you must obey!"

At that moment, Fabius interjected, a mocking smile playing on his lips. He turned to Valeria, his gaze sweeping over her poised stance with thinly veiled disdain.

"Oh, of course, Valeria," he said in a taunting tone. "Our beloved little sister, always the shining star. But tell me, is this bravery, or sheer foolishness? Your so-called 'honor' may very well lead to our downfall."

Valeria did not respond to Fabius's words.

"Father, perhaps Valeria needs some time alone to truly understand the realities of Rome," he said, turning to Cassius. "Maybe she should realize how exhausted we all are from constantly protecting her."

Cassius gave a nod of approval at Fabius’s suggestion, but Valeria’s stance remained unshaken.

"Fabius, there’s something you don’t understand," she said. "If your power comes from the downfall of others, then that power is nothing but a hollow shadow."

Her father voiced his disappointment once more.

"When the Emperor asks you again, you must be rational," he said, his voice softer this time but still carrying an air of authority.

As Cassius and Fabius left the room, Valeria was left alone. But solitude was not a weakness for her... it was a silence in which she found herself. That night, she lifted her head toward the sky, gazing at the shining stars above Rome. Under these very stars, she would make her choice: to surrender or to fight for her freedom.

And this choice would be the first step in a rebellion that would go down in history.

The grand arena of Rome was filled with a crowd buzzing with excitement. The sky was a clear blue, and the sun bathed the arena in golden light. The gladiator games, held by the command of Emperor Commodus, were a celebration of a victorious military campaign. In the stands, from the lower classes to senators, everyone greeted the gladiators with the same fervor. Yet, the Emperor’s private box stood apart in its unmatched splendor.

Emperor Commodus sat at the very center of the box, reclining on a throne adorned with golden embroidery. His attire was as magnificent as that of Rome’s gods; the deep purple cloak draped over his shoulders was a symbol of his unquestionable authority. Seated beside him was his sister, and behind him, to his left, sat Valeria, the daughter of his close friend, Senator Cassius. The young woman carried herself with noble grace, yet her gaze held both sharp intensity and a deep melancholy.

Valeria was dressed in a red *stola*, its delicate fabric rippling elegantly with her every movement. The golden leaf motifs on her belt reflected the wealth and nobility of Rome. Her dark chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders, styled with a golden crown adorned with leaf patterns, glistening under the sunlight like a divine emblem.

Despite Commodus’s suggestive words and the frequent glances he cast in her direction, Valeria kept her eyes fixed on the brutal battles unfolding in the arena. Yet, her indifference only seemed to intrigue Commodus further.

"What do you think, Valeria?" Commodus asked, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Do the passion of these gladiators not reflect the greatness of Rome? Just like us..."

Valeria turned her head slightly toward him, a polite yet icy smile appearing on her lips. "Yes, Your Majesty. The gladiators do indeed reflect the grandeur of Rome," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of irony. "But only for a fleeting moment. One moment they live, the next they die."

Commodus narrowed his eyes as if he had deciphered the deeper meaning behind her words.

Just as Valeria was about to shift her gaze back to the gladiators, a new figure emerged at the entrance of the stands at Commodus’s command: General Marcus Acacius.

As Marcus entered the Colosseum, he took a brief moment to survey his surroundings. He was no stranger to the chaotic energy of the gladiator arena, yet this place always stirred conflicting emotions within him. It was meant to symbolize war and honor, but at times, it served as a stark reminder of the darkest facets of human nature.

At Commodus’s signal, Marcus proceeded toward the imperial box. His gleaming armor was adorned with golden accents, yet it bore a simplicity that made it clear he had no interest in mere ostentation. His face, hardened by years on the battlefield, was defined by sharp lines, but in his eyes, there remained a flicker of compassion.

Upon reaching the box, Commodus rose to greet him.

"Ah, General Acacius! The sword and honor of Rome! We are most pleased to have you among us," he declared.

Marcus saluted formally. "Your Majesty," he replied. Yet, the moment he lowered his salute, his eyes fell upon Valeria. Seeing her up close for the first time, he found himself unexpectedly captivated.

Valeria was unlike the other daughters of the Senate members. While they carried a facade of elegance, she possessed an inner strength and depth that set her apart.

Commodus noticed this exchange of glances, and a cunning smile crossed his face.

"Ah, I see you have not been introduced," he said smoothly. "General Acacius, this is Valeria, daughter of Senator Cassius. Valeria, this is General Acacius—one of Rome’s most valiant commanders."

Valeria, though she recognized the nuances in Commodus's introduction, responded with graceful poise, inclining her head in a courteous greeting. "General Acacius," she said. "I know of you from your victories on Rome’s battlefields."

Marcus offered a slight smile. "Lady Valeria," he replied, his voice carrying a deep, commanding presence. "You are known for both your grace and intellect. Now I see that such words were never an exaggeration."

Yet, as Marcus watched Valeria, he felt a growing unease. Knowing of Commodus’s obsession with her made it nearly impossible for him to acknowledge the pull he felt toward this young woman.

Valeria, too, sensed the weight Marcus carried as she met his gaze. This man was not just a general; he was a soul burdened with the weight of Rome and a sorrow that came from the battlefield.

In that moment, in the emperor’s private box, two fates intertwined for the first time. But this meeting did more than link their destinies—it ignited a spark that would change the course of Rome itself.

As the sun reached its peak, the Roman arena grew even more alive. The crowd roared with excitement, their cheers echoing against the stone walls. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the dust that rose from the sandy ground. Seated on his throne, Emperor Commodus let his gaze drift across the gladiators below, reveling in the spectacle.

Beside him, Marcus Acacius watched with growing discomfort. Despite the many battles he had fought, there was something ruthless in these games that unsettled him.

In the arena, two gladiators faced off. On one side stood a towering Thracian, gripping two short swords with jagged edges resembling shards of bone. Opposite him, a lean yet agile Nubian gladiator twirled his spear with remarkable precision. Both were drenched in sweat and fatigue.

The Thracian lunged forward with a sudden, powerful strike, but the Nubian dodged by rolling backward, evading the attack just in time. The crowd erupted in frenzied shouts. Each step, each clash sent up bursts of dust, making the combat all the more dramatic.

Valeria remained silent throughout the fight. Her eyes carefully followed every movement in the arena—not with admiration like the crowd or Commodus, but with calculation. She studied the gladiators' tactics, analyzing the logic behind every step and maneuver.

Noticing a slight misstep in the slave’s defensive stance, she murmured under her breath, almost unconsciously.

"If he had shifted his foot just a little to the side, he could have deflected the attack."

Marcus Acacius heard her words. He glanced at Valeria from the corner of his eye, unable to hide his surprise. He had never seen a woman observe gladiator fights with such focus—most attended merely for entertainment or to display their social status. But Valeria watched the arena as if it were a battlefield.

"Watch the Nubian," she said this time. Her voice carried a certainty that cut through the chaos of the arena and reached him directly. "He is more agile, but he hesitates too much. If he gets cornered, the Thracian's strength will overpower him."

Another observation.

"The strike is coming from too wide an angle. If he could move faster, he could throw the Thracian off balance."

Marcus could no longer resist. He turned to Valeria. "Lady Valeria," he said, his voice laced with curiosity. "Your knowledge of gladiator combat techniques is remarkable. What has given you such insight?"

Valeria paused for a moment. When her eyes met Marcus’s, she lowered them slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, General," she replied with a hint of playful irony. "I am merely intrigued by the aesthetics of movement. This is all just a matter of entertainment, is it not?"

Marcus noticed her sudden shift in demeanor. The way she dismissed the subject so quickly made him suspect she was hiding something. But why? Why would the daughter of a senator possess such a keen understanding of gladiatorial combat and battle strategy?

She was not merely a decorative figure of the imperial elite. The way she studied the arena was far from that of a casual spectator. Valeria could analyze the logic behind every movement, recognize tactical mistakes. This realization left Marcus with even more questions.

The fight had ended, and the golden sands of the Colosseum were now stained with blood. As the crowd cheered for the victorious gladiators, Commodus rose from his seat. His eyes fixed on Valeria, and with a warm smile, he approached her.

Valeria felt uneasy under the intensity of the emperor’s gaze.

"Wasn't that fight spectacular, my dear Valeria?" Commodus’s voice carried both warmth and an unmistakable air of dominance.

Valeria responded with a delicate smile. "Of course, Your Majesty. Your gladiators delivered a truly magnificent performance."

Marcus could sense Valeria's discomfort under Commodus’s watchful eyes.

"Lady Valeria," Commodus said, stepping closer. "You will be the guest of honor at our banquet tonight. Isn't that right, Marcus? I'm sure General Acacius agrees with me."

Marcus hesitated for a brief moment but then nodded politely. "Your Majesty, of course."

Valeria wanted to escape this situation quickly. With a slight curtsy, she said, "Your Majesty, if you would permit me, I would like to join my friends."

Commodus nodded, granting her leave, but his eyes held an expression that suggested he had no intention of letting her go so easily.

As Valeria's delicate curtsy and swift steps carried her away, she left behind only Commodus and Marcus Acacius in the imperial box.

"General," Commodus said, his voice both relaxed and bearing the authority of a ruler. "Look at this arena. Rome’s power is forged within these stone walls. But this alone is not enough. We must expand our borders further—beyond the Alps, and then to the riches of the East… Tell me, Marcus, do you think my dream will come true one day?"

Marcus pretended to ponder the emperor's question, though the answer was already clear in his mind—he merely had to force himself to speak it. "Your Majesty, under your will, Rome’s borders can stretch beyond imagination. However..."

His voice drifted slightly as his gaze followed the corridor where Valeria had disappeared moments ago.

Commodus noticed this lapse in attention. He placed his wine goblet on the table, his eyes sharpening as he studied Marcus. "However what, Marcus?" he asked, his tone now more pointed, more inquisitive.

Marcus straightened himself and took a step forward. "However, Your Majesty, a vision of such magnitude requires both military strength and internal stability. While we battle our enemies abroad, maintaining balance within Rome is just as crucial."

Commodus seemed pleased with this response. Yet Marcus's thoughts were still elsewhere—on Valeria. Her voice, the subtle smile on her lips, the mystery in her eyes...

As soon as his conversation with Commodus ended, Marcus left the arena in search of Valeria. His footsteps echoed through the corridors, his mind fixated on the enigma she presented. Though Commodus favored her, she visibly tried to keep her distance from him, a fact that intrigued Marcus more with each passing moment.

While passing through a side passage that led to the Colosseum’s garden, a faint growl followed by a soft laugh made him pause. Turning his head towards the source of the sound, he spotted Valeria in a secluded space.

But she was not alone.

Beside her lay a wolf majestic and imposing, its massive paws resting against the earth. Its fur was as dark as the night, yet it shimmered with a silvery sheen. Valeria was stroking the beast’s head, speaking to it in a calm, soothing manner.

For a moment, Marcus could hardly believe his eyes. This was not a sight one encountered in Rome.

He approached cautiously. "Lady Valeria," he called out, his voice tinged with both astonishment and admiration.

Valeria turned to face him. The wolf, sensing the general’s presence, tensed, ready to revert to its wild nature but Valeria calmed it with a gentle touch.

"General Acacius," she said. "You managed to find me."

Marcus kept a careful distance from the beast as he stepped closer. "A senator’s daughter and a wolf," he remarked with a slight tilt of his head. "Not a sight one often encounters. Where did you find this animal?"

Valeria smiled faintly, running her fingers through the wolf’s thick fur. "This wolf belonged to General Maximus," she said, her voice suddenly carrying a solemn weight. Her eyes seemed to drift toward a distant memory. "When he died, the emperor’s sister, Lucilla, gifted him to me. I believed he carried a piece of Maximus’s spirit… and it was a great gesture on her part."

Marcus stared at her in quiet surprise. The name of Maximus was legendary in Rome.

"General Maximus…" he murmured. "I did not know you had a connection to him."

Valeria’s gaze remained on the wolf’s piercing eyes. "I wish I had known a man like him," she said. Her voice held both admiration and longing. "I have devoted myself to understanding his vision. His courage, loyalty, honor… Everything Rome needs was in his heart. But, unfortunately, life is rarely just."

Marcus found himself captivated by the depth of her words. "Maximus was truly an extraordinary man," he said. "But listening to you, I feel as though you have done much to honor his legacy."

Valeria gave a small, enigmatic smile in response, but there was a secret hidden in her eyes.

"To honor something, one must first know how to protect oneself, General," she said. Then, as if wanting to change the subject, she added with a teasing tone, "And what about you? Are you afraid of wolves?"

Marcus noticed this sudden change but chose not to dwell on it. With a slight smile, he said, "As a soldier, we cannot allow fear to take hold of us. But to be honest, the presence of such a wild animal does surprise me."

Valeria laughed. "A fair observation," she said. "But don’t worry, he is loyal only to me. He won’t bite you."

Marcus was even more impressed by this revelation. The fact that a woman had tamed such a wild beast spoke volumes about her strength and uniqueness. "You intrigue me more with each passing moment, Lady Valeria," he said, his eyes fixed on hers.

Valeria did not respond immediately. Just as she was about to speak, their silence was interrupted by the voice of the emperor’s sister, Lucilla.

"Valeria! Marcus!" she called, approaching them gracefully. "His Majesty wishes to see you at the banquet."

Valeria stroked the wolf’s head one last time before rising to her feet. "Of course, Lucilla," she said with an elegant smile.

Marcus, meanwhile, found himself looking into Valeria’s eyes, struggling to suppress his desire to speak with her more.

The splendor and power of Rome were on full display at the grand imperial banquet. Gold-gilded columns, statues of gods adorning the walls, cushions draped in the rarest and most exquisite fabrics, and grand dining tables filled the hall. Throughout the night, the city’s elite mingled among dancing slaves and wine-drinking nobles. Before the lavish couches, golden goblets brimmed with the finest wines, and the tables overflowed with exotic delicacies—roasted quail, honey-glazed pork, plates adorned with dried figs and pomegranates. Musicians transformed the feast into a spectacle, playing to entertain the guests. The melodies of lyres and flutes filled the air with a delicate melancholy. Whispered conversations, the clinking of wine cups, and the savoring of carefully prepared meals blended into the atmosphere.

Valeria, dressed in a crimson gown, sat at the table’s forefront. The women around her observed the unfolding events with a mix of grace and quiet ambition. However, their gazes often drifted elsewhere...frequently settling on General Marcus Acacius.

A wealthy noblewoman, Livia, praised Marcus for both his stature and his esteemed rank. "It is truly a blessing for Rome to have such a handsome general," she said, her eyes gleaming. "Not only a brave leader but also a bold man. A true hero."

Valeria elegantly held her wine cup, casting a glance at the women. Though she noticed their predatory expressions, she maintained her composed demeanor. However, a subtle unrest stirred within her.

Seated beside her, Antonia had been observing Marcus’s lingering glances toward Valeria all evening. With a playful smirk, she interjected, "But I have noticed something," she said, casting a knowing look at Valeria. "General Acacius keeps watching you. His gazes are far too meaningful… Surely, you’ve noticed?"

The other women exchanged glances, nodding in silent agreement. Livia’s smile momentarily tightened. "Of course, if Commodus were to notice this, the consequences would be quite clear," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Valeria.

Valeria calmly set her goblet down. Her gaze flickered toward Marcus, who had momentarily looked away from her but soon lifted his head once more, his eyes meeting hers. She offered a faint smile and lowered her head slightly before replying, "I believe you are overthinking things," she said. "General Acacius does not look at me that way. I am certain that no one occupies his thoughts outside of Rome’s wars and victories. This is merely a misunderstanding."

The women remained skeptical, but a shadow of doubt took root among them. Livia leaned in slightly, her smile thin and laced with amusement.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her tone subtly teasing. "Acacius seems interested in more than just war tonight—he seems interested in you."

Valeria hesitated for the briefest moment. Throughout the evening, she had worked to ignore Commodus’s watchful gaze, and now she was also acutely aware of Marcus’s interest. But it gave her no sense of comfort. Suppressing her unease, she responded with quiet confidence, "That is nonsense," she said. "Men like General Acacius look at victory with hungry eyes. That is all you need to understand."

The women finally fell silent, though their minds continued to churn with speculation. They did not entirely believe Valeria’s words, yet the social hierarchy and its unspoken rivalries forced them to let the matter drop...for now.

As the warmth of the banquet slowly dissipated, Commodus leaned back in his gilded chair, his gaze drifting toward the table where Valeria sat. He gestured toward his servant, Servius, beckoning him closer. Commodus’s voice, as commanding as ever, carried a softer undertone this time.

"Deliver a message to Valeria," he ordered. "Tell her to meet me in the garden by the temple."

Servius bowed in acknowledgment and swiftly set off to fulfill his duty. Commodus’s eyes lingered on Valeria’s shimmering silhouette in her crimson dress. His expression was a complex blend of desire and determination. To him, Valeria was not merely a woman...she was an unattainable victory. And Commodus was not accustomed to leaving things unfinished.

When Servius delivered the emperor’s message, a flurry of whispers erupted among Valeria and her companions. Antonia’s eyes widened as she turned to Valeria.

"The garden by the temple?" she said, her voice rising with curiosity. "Just you and him? How could you possibly refuse?"

Valeria took a deep breath before answering. "This isn’t right. I do not share his feelings, and I don’t know how to make him understand that."

Livia reached out, gently squeezing Valeria’s hand. "Valeria, Commodus is not just a man...he is an emperor. Rejecting him… it could mean disaster, not just for you, but for your entire family. The Senate and the people’s support are weakening by the day."

Antonia, smirking, chimed in with an amused tone. "Don’t worry, Valeria. It’s obvious why he’s summoned you there. Accept his marriage proposal...become empress. You’ll live in comfort for the rest of your life."

Valeria shook her head firmly, inhaling deeply. "I don’t want to talk about this," she said, her voice a mix of resolve and unease. Despite her friends' pressures, she moved toward the garden with measured steps. However, knowing how unpredictable the emperor could be, she made sure to keep her wolf close.

The garden by the temple was cloaked in the silence of the night. Towering pine trees blocked out the moonlight, while marble benches and ivy-covered columns lent the place an almost enchanted air. Commodus sat on one of the benches, his expression both tense and resolute.

As Valeria stepped into the garden, she felt her heartbeat quicken. Commodus’s eyes immediately locked onto hers.

"Valeria," he said, rising slowly to his feet. "Come, sit with me."

His gaze flickered around the space, sensing the presence of the wolf. Just as Valeria found comfort in the creature’s looming shadow, Commodus felt unsettled by it...as if it carried the ghost of Maximus himself.

Valeria hesitated before stepping forward, bowing politely. "Emperor, I have come at your request."

Commodus gestured to the seat beside him. "It was not a command, but a request," he said, his voice soft yet authoritative. "There is no one else here, Valeria. Just you and me. No one will hear us. We can speak freely."

He fixed his gaze on her. "Valeria," he began, "my father never loved me. To him, I was nothing more than a burden...not a son. Maximus…" his eyes darkened as they flicked toward the wolf. "Ah, that cursed Maximus. He always made me feel like I was lesser. Like I was nothing but his shadow. But you, Valeria… you are different. When I look into your eyes, I see myself. The real me. And that is why I love you."

Valeria listened in silence as Commodus took another step closer.

"Tomorrow, the time I have given you runs out," he continued. "Say yes. Become Empress of Rome. Stand by my side, and together, we will make history. But more than that...know that I truly love you. This is not just a marriage proposal."

Valeria’s expression wavered. Commodus’s eyes reflected sincerity, yet something deep within her told her that something was terribly wrong. She averted her gaze, speaking slowly.

"This is a decision of great consequence."

Commodus’s lips curled into a faint smile, but for a brief moment, his eyes darkened. "Of course," he murmured, his voice dropping. "But I will not wait forever."

As Commodus’s obsessive words filled the air, Valeria instinctively avoided his gaze, choosing instead to remain silent. The emperor awaited her answer impatiently, but Valeria’s mind was still caught on Marcus Acacius’s lingering glances from earlier that evening.

Then, suddenly, movement flickered in the farthest shadows of the temple. Commodus’s guards had been loosened by the revelry of the banquet, their vigilance dulled. And in that moment, a whisper echoed through the temple’s quiet corners.

"Now."

Valeria’s sharp eyes caught sight of three figures emerging behind Commodus. Each of them draped in dark cloaks, each gripping a short blade, their approach slow and calculated.

She tensed, her voice low but urgent. "Behind you."

Commodus merely chuckled, dismissing her concern. "Relax, my dear Valeria. Who would dare lay a hand on me?" he mocked.

But before he could finish his sentence, the first assassin struck.

Valeria, without hesitation, grabbed Commodus by the arm and pulled him aside, narrowly saving him from the assassin’s strike. As Commodus fell to the ground, one of the attackers immediately targeted him, and they began to grapple. Another assassin raised his sword, ready to drive it into the emperor, but Valeria instinctively stepped in front of Commodus, deflecting the incoming blow. With swift precision, she kicked the attacker’s wrist, forcing him to drop his weapon. Seizing the opportunity, Valeria swiftly picked up the fallen sword. She tore away the excess fabric of her dress, freeing herself from its burden, and immediately took a battle stance.

Valeria’s fighting style was as strong and precise as that of a gladiator. She moved aggressively, skillfully blocking every strike the assassins attempted, maneuvering as if she were in an arena. Commodus watched in awe at her prowess while simultaneously struggling against his own attackers. Yet, he was soon overpowered and pinned down once more.

Breathing heavily, Valeria shouted, "Asinus!" At her command, a dark silhouette swiftly slipped through the temple’s open doors. Her ever-loyal wolf, always by her side, bared its white fangs and growled menacingly before lunging at the assassins. As the wolf attacked, Valeria took down another assassin. Two of the attackers had already been neutralized, and the third attempted to flee but Valeria’s piercing gaze did not allow it. At her signal, Asinus leaped onto the last remaining assassin, snarling as it aimed for his throat.

Meanwhile, back in the banquet hall, the joyous laughter of the guests abruptly turned into terrified screams. A second wave of assassins had stormed through the temple’s main entrance, their swords and daggers cutting down innocent bystanders. The panicked guests trampled over golden goblets and silver platters as they tried to escape, while Marcus Acacius’s soldiers sprang into action.

Marcus did not hesitate for even a moment. Drawing his sword, he barked out orders to his men. "Form defensive groups! Get the people out!" His commanding voice rang out over the chaos as he pushed toward the temple’s main platform. "Where is Commodus?" he demanded, but no one could provide a clear answer.

Then, a servant stammered, "The emperor and Lady Valeria... they are in the back of the temple!"

Marcus’s eyes darkened. "Alone?" he asked sharply. The servant nodded.

Marcus raced through the temple’s rear corridors, his breath steadying as he reached the scene.

There, against the backdrop of gilded marble columns, Commodus was cornered by four men. In front of him stood Valeria, fiercely defending the emperor as she fought off two assassins. Her movements were swift, her stance unwavering. Wielding a short dagger she had seized, she skillfully parried every strike. Beside her, her loyal wolf, Asinus, growled and lunged at another attacker.

Marcus hesitated for a brief moment, startled by the scene before him. He had never realized just how powerful and skilled Valeria truly was. But his surprise was fleeting... there was no time for hesitation. With a swift motion, he drew his sword and charged forward.

"Valeria, fall back!" he shouted.

But Valeria ignored his command. "My place is here!" she declared.

Now, Marcus and Valeria stood side by side, fighting off the assassins together. Marcus’s sword clashed with an attacker’s dagger, the sharp ring of metal against metal echoing through the temple walls. Every strike was strong and deliberate... his skills as a general evident in every move. Meanwhile, Valeria moved with calculated speed, strategically diverting the enemies’ attention.

At Valeria’s signal, Asinus lunged forward, taking down another assassin. As the wolf secured its target, Valeria turned her focus to the remaining attacker. With a swift strike of her dagger, she slashed at the assassin’s arm, forcing him to drop his weapon. But just as she gained the upper hand, an unexpected blow struck her from behind, sending her crashing to the ground.

Marcus faltered for a split second, his breath catching. "Valeria!" he called out.

But there was no time to hesitate—the battle raged on. Marcus forced himself to focus, cutting down two more attackers before finally rushing to Valeria’s side.

Valeria had suffered a deep wound to her shoulder. Blood spread across her red dress, staining the golden embroidery. Yet, despite this, the determination on her face remained unwavering. “I’m fine,” she said in a weak voice. “Just keep saving Commodus.”

Marcus admired the courage in Valeria’s eyes, but he could not leave her behind. “No, we fight together,” he said firmly. “No one is leaving you here alone.”

When the last attackers were finally subdued by Marcus’ soldiers, the temple fell into a deadly silence. Commodus sat on the ground in a corner, watching everything unfold in stunned disbelief. His gaze locked onto Valeria. He knew she had saved his life, but this only deepened his obsession with her.

Marcus carefully lifted Valeria from the ground. “A woman like you is far too valuable to Commodus,” he said, though there was a note of admiration in his voice. Valeria met his eyes and smiled faintly. “I only did what was right,” she replied. But the glimmer in her gaze conveyed far more than her words.

Asinus sat quietly beside Valeria, while the marble floor was now marked with the scars of battle.

The air in the temple remained heavy with the scent of blood and smoke. Commodus’ voice rang out in the eerie silence left by the clashing swords. “Who did this?! Who would dare attempt to assassinate me?!” His eyes burned with fury, making it clear that those responsible would face a severe punishment.

Marcus Acacius swiftly took control. “Seal all exits,” he commanded in a booming voice. “No suspect is to escape. Search every corner!” The temple was once again filled with movement as soldiers took their positions at every door, questioning everyone inside. Commodus stood tall, taking deep breaths, his anger not only directed at the assassins but also at the humiliation of such an attack in front of his people.

Just then, Valeria suddenly staggered. Commodus’ eyes fixed on her trembling hands and the pallor overtaking her face. “Valeria!” he shouted. Valeria swayed as if the ground beneath her had disappeared, then collapsed hard onto the floor. Without hesitation, Commodus caught her in his arms. “What’s happening to you?!” His voice, once furious, was now laced with fear.

Marcus immediately rushed to their side. “What’s going on? Lay her down,” he ordered. As Commodus gripped her hands tightly, Valeria whispered weakly, “I… I’m cold…”

Marcus carefully tore the fabric of her dress near the wound. The gash on her shoulder had turned a dark red, surrounded by an ominous black hue.

Marcus studied the wound intently, his expression darkening. “It’s poison,” he declared, his voice tense but resolute. “The blade was coated in a deadly substance.” The darkening blood seeping from her wound was a clear sign of the poison’s spread through her body. “This is a toxin we encountered before in our legions. Aconitum… Wolfsbane.”

Commodus' eyes narrowed. “Do you know what this is?”

Marcus nodded grimly. “Yes. It’s a poison derived from a plant. It spreads rapidly through the bloodstream, paralyzing the muscles and slowly shutting down the organs. But for it to act this fast…” He glanced at Valeria, his voice turning grave. “This version has been enhanced... deliberately made more lethal.”

Commodus’ fury deepened. “Who could be behind such treachery?! Whoever orchestrated this assassination must have also supplied the poison. This is a declaration of war!”

Valeria’s breathing grew shallower, her chest barely rising and falling. Commodus, torn between his anger and his fear of losing her, clenched his jaw. “How do we save her?” he asked, his voice almost pleading.

Marcus hesitated for only a moment before speaking with determination. “I know someone who can help her. A healer. She has the skills to slow the poison’s effects—perhaps even cure her.”

Commodus’ expression hardened. “Where is this healer? Bring them here!”

Marcus shook his head. “There’s no time for that. We must take her there immediately. The poison is spreading fast. Valeria’s strength is extraordinary, but this poison is fatal for anyone.”

Commodus hesitated. “Taking Valeria away from here is dangerous. How do we know the attackers won’t try again?”

Marcus responded with a steely voice. “The assassins are still inside, and my men will find them. But Valeria has no time! If we don’t get her out now…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but Commodus understood the weight of his words.

Commodus gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with a mix of rage and helplessness. “Save her,” he finally said, his voice hoarse and weary. “But if anything happens to Valeria, the blame will fall on you, General.”

Marcus met his gaze sharply. “Nothing will happen to her.” Commodus hesitated before carefully handing Valeria over to Marcus, his fingers lingering on her pale face. “Bring her back to me, Marcus.”

Marcus gave a firm nod and lifted Valeria into his arms. “Asinus! Follow me!” he commanded. The wolf, having never left his master’s side, now walked silently behind him.

As Marcus carried Valeria away, he was certain he could save her. But he would not forget the fire of rage and suspicion in Commodus’ eyes. This was not just a rescue mission...it was a test of fate, one that would determine both Valeria’s life and Marcus’ own future.

As the moonlight illuminated Rome’s bloody and chaotic night, Marcus Acacius carefully placed Valeria’s nearly motionless body onto his horse. Her pale face was as pure and fragile as a white marble statue. Her eyes were closed; her lips barely moved with a breath so faint it was almost a whisper. Marcus, as if trying to feel her warmth, tightened his trembling arms around her and placed her in his lap.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered, his voice low yet determined, only loud enough to be heard in the silence of the night.

The poison slithered through Valeria’s body like a silent predator, setting her veins on fire. As Marcus held her arm, he could feel her pulse weakening rapidly. Every passing second made it clearer that this dangerous journey was her last hope. Listening to her fragile breathing, for the first time, he felt not the usual rush of battle but sheer helplessness and fear.

Gritting his teeth, he muttered to himself, “No, I won’t lose you.”

The wound on Valeria’s shoulder had darkened, her skin turning cold. As Marcus urged his horse forward with urgency, a storm of emotions raged inside him. Why did he care so much about her? Why did he feel such desperation for her survival? He had saved countless lives on the battlefield before, but this… this was different

The rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves echoed through the cobbled streets, accompanied by a silent shadow—a wolf following closely behind them. Valeria’s loyal companion ran effortlessly alongside them, its keen eyes watching over her. The beast moved with an unyielding resolve, as if it refused to let any harm befall its mistress.

Marcus glanced at the creature and thought, Just like your owner. Silent, yet possessing a devastating power.

Valeria’s hair fluttered in the wind, her delicate neck exposed to the moonlight. The wound still oozed dark liquid, the poison creeping through her body at a slow but deadly pace.

As Marcus looked at her, he could no longer restrain himself. It wasn’t just her beauty—it was the mystery and strength she carried within her. She had a nobility that neither an aristocrat nor even a female warrior could match. He remembered how she had tamed the wolf, how she had stood fearless against assassins, how she had displayed unwavering courage in the temple. Watching her had stirred something in Marcus that was more than admiration.

But that feeling left him vulnerable.

This isn’t right, he scolded himself. She belongs to Commodus. And you… you are just a soldier.

Yet despite these thoughts, holding Valeria in his arms dragged him into an emotion he had never known before.

“Hold on, Valeria. I swear to you, I will save you.”

Through the darkness, Marcus Acacius rode toward the healer’s humble stone house. The moonlight cast long shadows on the sturdy walls, revealing the simple yet solid structure. As the horse’s hooves broke the silence, a faint glow from the window indicated that someone was inside.

Marcus’s weary face was etched with worry, and Valeria’s pale form still lay lifeless in his arms. The wolf followed like a ghost, occasionally pausing to sniff the air.

Jumping off his horse, Marcus carefully lifted Valeria into his arms. At that moment, he realized how light she was. But that weightlessness did nothing to ease the burden in his heart—it only made it heavier.

Reaching the healer’s door, he pounded on it.

“Open the door! Open it now! I have an injured patient!” His voice was firm but laced with fear.

Within moments, the door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged woman whose face was lined with age but whose eyes shone with wisdom. Dressed in a simple yet clean tunic, she held a torch that illuminated Marcus’s exhausted but determined expression.

“General Acacius?” she asked, surprised.

“Valeria is wounded,” Marcus answered, his voice trembling with restrained anger. “She’s been poisoned. You must do something immediately.”

The healer quickly pushed aside her shock and stepped aside. “Bring her in, quickly! I’ll prepare her room.”

Marcus carried Valeria through a narrow stone corridor. From the outside, the house had appeared modest, but inside, it was carefully arranged with a well-prepared patient chamber. A bed covered in clean linen, wooden shelves filled with vials of herbs, and a small fireplace burning warmly in the corner created an air of quiet urgency. The sharp scent of medicinal plants lingered in the air, signaling that a treatment was already in motion.

As Marcus gently placed Valeria onto the bed, a stray lock of her hair fell over her face. He hesitated for a moment before carefully brushing it back. Her pale face remained as silent and troubled as death itself.

The healer stepped forward, her eyes immediately locking onto the wound.

"The blade was poisoned," Marcus said, his voice a mix of hardness and fear. "I can't lose her."

The healer examined the wound carefully. "This is an ancient poison," the woman said with a soft sigh. "The poison is slowly seeping into her blood, and once it reaches her heart, death will be inevitable. But you arrived in time. There is still a chance. However, this treatment will not be easy."

Marcus searched for a glimmer of hope in the healer’s words. "Do whatever it takes. I'll help," he said without hesitation.

The healer quickly grabbed several bottles from the shelf and signaled to her assistant. The assistant, a young man, was accustomed to the healer’s orders and had skilled hands. A mortar was filled with dark-colored herbs, dried flowers, and a small amount of green liquid. The healer turned to Marcus. "To cleanse this poison, we must cut the wound open and let the blood flow. This will be difficult for both her and you, but it’s our only chance."

Marcus furrowed his brows but did not waver. "What do I need to do?"

The healer carefully lifted Valeria’s pale arm. "We must keep the wound open. As we drain the poisoned blood, we need to ensure fresh blood keeps circulating. While I open the wound, you will drop this into her vein." She handed him a small bottle. "But be careful. Too little won’t work, too much will stop her heart."

Marcus nodded firmly. "Understood."

The healer cut away the fabric around the wound and took a deep breath before drawing her knife. "Are you ready?" she asked Marcus.

"I'm ready."

As the healer wiped around the wound with a clean cloth, Valeria's face twisted in pain. Marcus gripped her hand tightly. "Hold on, Valeria," he whispered.

When the healer pressed the knife to the wound, forcing the poison out, Valeria's body flinched involuntarily. Thick, dark blood oozed out. Marcus, his hands slightly trembling, carefully dripped the green liquid into her vein. The assistant stood close by, ensuring he administered the correct amount.

"Do not rush," the healer said sharply to Marcus. "This is the line between life and death for her."

Marcus leaned in closer to Valeria. "Come on, hold on. You’re a fighter. Prove it to me," he said, his voice low but filled with deep affection. At that moment, he wasn’t just a general—he was a man fighting to keep Valeria alive.

Once the last drop of poisoned blood had been drained, the healer pressed a prepared herbal mixture onto the wound. "Now, we wait," she said. "It will take time for her to wake. Keep talking to her. It is crucial that she stays awake through the night."

Marcus held Valeria’s hand and rested his forehead gently against hers. "I’m here," he whispered. "And I’m not going anywhere." Though Valeria couldn’t open her eyes, there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips. Marcus could still feel the warrior inside her fighting.

Her lips moved slightly, though no words formed. Marcus leaned in even closer, as if trying to catch her breath itself. "Are you trying to say something? Come on… If you can hear me, give me a sign." Valeria's eyelids fluttered slightly, and her lips parted just enough for the faintest movement. It was enough to ignite hope within Marcus.

The healer, watching from the corner of the room, observed the scene with a knowing look. "It’s not just courage fighting for her life, General," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Your heart is fighting too. But such deep concern is not just a soldier’s duty, is it?"

Marcus lifted his head, his eyes filled with both guilt and defiance. "That’s none of your business," he said shortly. But his words lacked true coldness—he himself could feel the vulnerability behind them.

The healer smiled slightly, shaking her head. "No, it’s really not. But eyes do not lie, Marcus Acacius. I saw the way you looked at her."

For a moment, Marcus remained silent. "You’re mistaken," he finally said, his voice controlled but slightly strained. "She is the emperor’s fiancée. Commodus’ beloved. And I am his general. Something like this… something like this is impossible."

The healer chuckled softly—not mockingly, but with understanding. "If you say so," she said, clearly unconvinced. "But remember, General—your eyes betray your heart."

With that, she left them alone.

The silence that followed was as loud as the clash of swords in battle. The forbidden feelings within Marcus felt as heavy as a thousand spears pointed at him.

"This is wrong," he whispered to himself. His words echoed in the dim room, but they did nothing to silence the storm in his heart. "She belongs to Commodus. She is the emperor’s beloved."

He buried his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. "May the gods forgive me," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is weakness… and weakness makes a general vulnerable." But no matter how hard he tried, he could not suppress the emotions stirring within him.

A faint murmur from Valeria broke his thoughts. He lifted his head immediately, eyes fixed on her. Though still half-conscious, her lips parted slightly. "Marcus…" she breathed, his name escaping her lips like a fragile whisper.

The sound both burned and strengthened Marcus. He pulled himself together and took her hand again. "I’m here," he said, his voice unsteady. "I swear to you, Valeria. I will bring you back from this darkness. No matter the cost."

As the first light of dawn trickled through the stone walls, Marcus Acacius sat by Valeria’s bedside, his head resting near her as he watched over her throughout the night. Exhausted, he had drifted into sleep, his arm carefully placed over the blanket covering her. Valeria’s weak but steady breathing filled the quiet room.

When the healer and her assistant entered, they found Marcus still there, his exhaustion evident. The healer gently touched his shoulder. Marcus jolted awake, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword before recognizing the familiar faces before him. "Healer," he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep. Then he immediately turned to Valeria, concern overtaking his drowsiness. "How is she? Is she better?"

The healer studied Valeria’s pale face carefully. "Not fully, General. The poison still lingers. Today will be even more difficult. But the girl has a strong will. She can overcome this."

Just then, Valeria let out a faint groan, slowly stirring. She blinked her eyes open and, upon seeing Marcus beside her, managed a weak smile. "Marcus…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Last night… what happened? Why am I here?"

Marcus gently squeezed her hand, trying to calm her. "You’re healing, Valeria. Just rest. We’ll talk later."

The healer turned to Marcus, her expression firm. "Today, we must open the wound again. The poison is still in her system, and we need to apply a second cure. But this will be even more painful than yesterday."

The concern on Marcus’ face was unmistakable.

Marcus frowned as he listened. "How will she endure so much pain? When she's this weak..."

The healer approached Marcus with a reassuring look. "She will endure. But with your support. You'll be by her side, won't you? If you truly want her to survive, you must be with her through every step."

Marcus nodded without hesitation. "I'll do whatever it takes. I won't leave her alone."

As Valeria slowly prepared herself, the healer made an opium tinctura—a concentrated opium extract. It wouldn't put her to sleep completely, but it would ease the pain and relax her body. Carefully, the healer brought the dark liquid to Valeria's lips. She grimaced at the bitter taste but obeyed under Marcus' reassuring gaze.

When the wound was opened, Valeria's face turned crimson, her brows furrowed in agony, but in her semi-conscious state, she couldn't scream. Marcus held her hand tightly, whispering in her ear. "I'm here. Be brave. This will end. You're a warrior, Valeria. You'll win this battle too."

The healer applied a special herbal mixture around the wound, letting the cure slowly seep in. His assistant looked at Marcus and gave a brief command. "I need to clean the wound, General. Step aside."

Tears streamed down Valeria's face. Her voice was weak but heart-wrenching. "It hurts so much... Marcus, it hurts..." she whimpered.

Marcus, his eyes welling up, ran his hand through her hair, his voice low but unwavering. "You can do this. You're doing it, Valeria. This pain is temporary. Do you hear me? It's almost over."

When the treatment was finished, the healer took a deep breath and turned to Marcus, his voice tired but hopeful. "General, as you said—this girl is a fighter. But having someone like you by her side makes her even stronger."

Marcus silently continued holding Valeria’s hand. As the healer’s words echoed in his mind, he felt a forbidden feeling begin to take root within him. But for now, it didn't matter. The battle for Valeria’s survival wasn’t over yet.

Two days later…

After Valeria’s routine treatment, Marcus took the opportunity to stay by her side once the healer left the room. He sat on the small chair beside her bed, watching her still-weakened form. Her face was pale, but her eyes were slowly regaining their light. Marcus couldn't bear seeing her so fragile, so he carefully reached for her hand. Gently, as if his touch could break her, he placed his fingers over her delicate ones.

At his touch, Valeria stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open. The first thing she saw was Marcus’ strong yet worried face. For a moment, they simply gazed at each other. In Marcus’ deep brown eyes, there was an intensity he tried to hide. Valeria smiled faintly, though it was a tired smile.

"General..." she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. But that one word echoed in Marcus’ chest.

"I'm here, Valeria," Marcus said, his voice as firm as a vow but also gentle.

Valeria tried to smile again, though the corner of her lips trembled slightly. "You didn’t have to stay."

Marcus was silent for a moment before bowing his head slightly. "I couldn't leave you alone. Your condition... it wasn’t good."

Valeria noticed his hand still holding hers. "I wouldn’t have expected such tenderness from a man as strong as you. Did Commodus order you to be this kind?"

Marcus flinched at the words, as if reality had slapped him in the face. Taking care of the Emperor's woman with such devotion what else could it mean? He withdrew his hand, furrowing his brows slightly as he answered.

"I promised the Emperor I would return his betrothed to him unharmed."

Valeria's expression changed. "No. Commodus… has made his interest in me very clear, but no, General. I belong to no one. I rejected his offer."

Marcus took a deep breath, feeling something inside him shift a small but unmistakable sense of relief.

"So I judged you wrongly," he admitted. "Had I known you were not the Emperor’s betrothed..."

Valeria cut him off with a small, knowing smile. "What would you have done, General? Would you have refused to help me?"

Even in her teasing tone, there was a challenge. Marcus held her gaze, determined not to betray anything.

"Perhaps... I would have seen you differently. But Valeria, you know how dangerous the Emperor’s interest is. He could force you."

This time, Valeria didn’t smile. Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. "I won’t let anyone force me, Marcus Acacius. Remember that."

Something about her defiance made Marcus smile slightly. He found her strength and resolve... compelling.

For a while, they simply looked at each other. A quiet warmth filled the space between them. Marcus hesitated for a moment, but he still hadn’t let go of her trembling hand.

"Valeria... I would have liked to face you in battle. I never expected a senator’s daughter to know how to fight."

Valeria blinked in surprise. "You, Marcus Acacius… shouldn't be this bold. And you’re right, my father would never approve of me fighting like a gladiator."

Marcus tilted his head slightly. "Then how did you become so skilled?"

A silence settled over them. Valeria looked as if she wanted to answer but chose not to. The sound of footsteps saved her from responding.

The healer entered the room and immediately noticed the atmosphere between them.

"General, if you keep watching the young lady this closely, you may not want her to recover too soon. Such a visitor is hard to come by," he remarked with a smirk.

Marcus straightened, his expression hardening. "I'm only doing my duty."

The healer shrugged, then knelt beside Valeria to check her condition.

"Duty… of course. Always duty."

With precise movements, he checked Valeria’s pulse and examined the wound. He nodded approvingly, then smiled.

"Tomorrow, my lady, you’ll be able to leave. But you must continue to rest—the wound is not fully healed. Also..." He glanced at Marcus, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Your presence has been quite effective in her recovery. Such remarkable devotion."

Marcus ignored the healer’s pointed words, keeping his face neutral. "Thank you. Your work has been invaluable."

As soon as the healer left the room, Valeria turned to Marcus, trying to hide the unease in her expression.

"General," she began, her voice still weak but filled with curiosity, "what exactly happened to me?"

Marcus pulled his chair closer to the bed, resting one hand on his knee while the other thoughtfully touched his chin. "An assassination attempt," he said in a calm but cold tone. "Commodus was the target. And you... you found yourself protecting him, Valeria. Your courage... was impressive. But it came at a price. The dagger… it was poisoned." His words slowed slightly. "But according to the healer, you will make a full recovery."

As Valeria tried to process Marcus's words, her gaze wandered to the floor. Suddenly, her expression darkened. She took a deep breath and spoke. "But another danger awaits me..."

Marcus hesitated for a moment. "Why do you say that?"

Valeria averted her eyes from Marcus, as if trying to hide her emotions. "Commodus," she murmured. "When we return, he will propose to me again. I rejected his first proposal. He gave me time to reconsider, but I don't think he'll be as understanding this time."

Marcus remained silent for a moment. Seeing the raw fear and helplessness on Valeria’s face sent a chill down his spine. "Refusing him won’t be easy," Marcus said heavily. "But Commodus is, above all, the Emperor. He wouldn't use his power to directly threaten you or your family. At least... not openly. With his relationship with the Senate already so strained, he avoids taking actions that might damage his reputation."

The faint uncertainty in his voice was something even he noticed. Valeria had sensed what he truly meant. "Do you really believe that?" she asked, her voice trembling but challenging.

Marcus paused, then slightly bowed his head. "I don’t know," he admitted. "But I hope that harming you or your family would be his last resort."

Marcus glanced at Valeria's slightly trembling hand, then, gathering his courage, placed his own hand over hers. "Valeria," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "Your courage, intelligence, and grace captivate him. But they also put you in danger. If you ever need to defend yourself..." He hesitated for a moment, weighing the weight of his words. "I will be here."

When Valeria saw the sincerity in Marcus's eyes, she took a deep breath. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing. The fear and helplessness inside her seemed to slowly fade, replaced by the security of Marcus's presence. But the weight in her heart remained heavy.

Silence echoed in the room. Valeria leaned her head slightly toward Marcus. "Thank you," she said simply, but the gratitude in her voice was meaningful enough.

Sitting in bed, Valeria felt her impatience growing. She hated feeling weak, and despite her wound, she wanted to get up. She pressed her hand lightly against the edge of the bed and looked at Marcus Acacius with determination.

"I'm tired of lying here, General," she said, her voice still weak but filled with resolve. "I need to stand up."

Marcus frowned and shook his head. "Valeria, this is madness. You've just started recovering, and you need to rest. Trying to get up could ruin everything."

A small smile appeared on Valeria’s lips. "It’s obvious you don’t know me well, General. I’m famous for my stubbornness."

Marcus sighed. "Very well," he finally said in a measured tone. "But if you take even a single step and falter, we are going back."

Marcus helped Valeria up, supporting her as she took her first step. She wobbled slightly, but he held her firmly, ensuring she didn’t fall. "I told you," Marcus murmured, his gaze filled with concern.

Valeria slowly began to walk with Marcus’s support. "Where is Asinus?" she suddenly asked, curiosity in her voice. "I need to see him."

Just then, the door opened, and the healer entered. "The wolf?" he asked. "We found him outside near the cooking area not long ago. Happily gnawing on bones. He’s quite loyal."

The healer gave Marcus a small smile. "But my lady, if you wish to go outside, you mustn’t go alone."

When Marcus and Valeria stepped out, the crisp air brushed against their faces. A thin layer of mist hovered over the ground, giving the surroundings an ethereal atmosphere. Valeria's eyes immediately searched for Asinus. At last, she spotted him a few meters away, contentedly chewing on a bone.

With Marcus’s help, Valeria moved toward him. The wolf, noticing his owner, wagged his tail excitedly and let out a joyful howl before rushing to her side. Valeria dropped to her knees. Despite the pain in her wound, she couldn’t resist wrapping her arms tightly around him and pressing her cheek against his soft fur. "Ah, I missed you," she murmured, her voice filled with affection.

Whenever Marcus was alone with her, he felt as though he was losing control of his heart.

After a moment with the wolf, Valeria took a deep breath and stood again. As her arm stretched, pain shot through her, making her exhale sharply between her teeth.

She turned to Marcus. "I always saw you as serious, strong, and distant," she said with a hint of teasing. "But now I see... you have a kind side."

Marcus gave a small smile. "A strong man showing kindness is sometimes seen as weakness. Especially when you've spent your life on the battlefield..." His gaze dropped slightly. "I wish... things were different," he whispered.

Valeria listened carefully. "Different? In what way?" she asked.

Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly as if weighing the gravity of the question. "If I answer that, things will become even more complicated," he finally replied.

A deep sadness flickered in Valeria’s eyes. "I think it's already complicated. Perhaps accepting that is the only truth."

Marcus took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Valeria, when I speak to you, my words catch in my throat. Not even the enemies who tried to bring me to my knees could make me feel as powerless as your innocent gaze. But we both know... this isn’t right. I am a warrior; you are a noblewoman, and... you are the Emperor’s betrothed."

"Stop saying that," she said firmly. "Commodus may think what he wants, but my heart has never belonged to him. It never will."

Valeria stepped closer to him. "And every time I speak with you, I feel like I am losing control of my heart. You pull me deeper into a trap with each word you say, General."

Marcus took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Valeria, even this conversation is dangerous."

In her eyes, there was both defiance and surrender. Valeria reached out, gently touching his shoulder and closing the space between them.

Finally, she tilted her head up slightly and pressed her lips against Marcus’s. That kiss carried not just passion but the weight of forbidden desire. At first, Marcus froze, but then, as if the chains around his heart shattered, his hands found her waist, pulling her closer.

In that kiss, every unspoken feeling between them was laid bare. But when it ended, Marcus’s eyes were filled with sorrow.

"Valeria," he said in a deep voice, "This... must only happen once. Your happiness is beyond my reach. I would do anything to protect you, but..."

Valeria placed her hand over his lips, silencing him. "If you want to protect me, then be honest. What does your heart say, General?"

Marcus Acacius felt the storm inside him intensify as he gazed into the depth of emotions reflected on Valeria's face. There was an undeniable pull in her youth and innocence, something that drew him in no matter how hard he tried to resist.

Marcus averted his eyes from hers, taking a deep breath. His voice was firm and stern.

"What we feel, Valeria, is nothing but a fleeting illusion. Even entertaining such thoughts is a mistake."

Valeria's expression shifted. "A mistake?" she echoed, her voice trembling yet defiant. "Do you truly believe that these feelings are wrong? Or are you just trying to convince yourself?"

Marcus clenched his jaw.

"I am a soldier, Valeria," he said, his tone low but resolute. "My life is filled with blood and death. Do you wish to spend your life longing for a man who is never truly yours? These feelings will only bring disaster."

Valeria whispered, "My heart has chosen you. Don’t you… don’t you feel it too?"

Marcus closed his eyes tightly. Her innocent confession shattered every wall he had built inside himself. But as a soldier, he had learned one crucial lesson: sometimes, in order to win, one must retreat. His hands balled into fists as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Valeria," he said, his voice carrying the finality of a judge’s verdict. "This matter will not be discussed again. It is forbidden. And you must forget it."

Valeria took a step back, as if his words had physically struck her. "Forget?" she asked, her voice a mix of pain and disbelief. "Do you truly believe you can do that, General? Because I… I know that I cannot."

Marcus lowered his head, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"I am firm in my decision, Valeria. It was nothing more than a moment of weakness. We will not speak of this again. When you are ready, I will take you home."

Valeria nodded, the emptiness inside her growing. Her voice carried both heartbreak and defiance. "Then let us not prolong this," she said, her tone cold and fragile. "Let’s return at once."

Marcus let his arms fall to his sides, stepping back. He could feel the weight of her broken heart, but he had to silence his own. This was for her own good. Valeria’s youth and innocence were not meant to bear the burden of a man like him.

Without accepting his help, Valeria made her way inside, her pain evident in every hesitant step. She staggered, her breath catching in her throat, the wound in her heart as raw as the ones on her body.

After Marcus Acacius left Valeria at the palace, he felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Days passed, yet neither he nor Valeria spoke a word to each other after that passionate kiss. Marcus buried himself in his duties, avoiding her at all costs, convincing himself that as long as she was safe under the Emperor’s protection, he could find solace. But every night, his mind betrayed him bringing back the memory of Valeria’s face, her touch, and the intensity of their kiss.

Valeria, on the other hand, struggled in the palace, suffocated by Commodus’ growing attention and the pain of Marcus’ rejection. The turmoil within her only deepened caught between the suffocating pressure of the Emperor and the forbidden love she harbored for Marcus.

Commodus, upon seeing her, made no effort to hide his delight, parading around the palace as he boasted about his bravery and the lengths he had gone to protect her. He spoke to Valeria as if he were a hero, expecting admiration in return. Though she remained composed, Valeria could sense the veiled threat behind his gaze.

Am I Not Merciful?!

One day, Emperor Commodus summoned Valeria to his chambers. Marcus Acacius was there with him, engaged in a discussion over a map. The emperor had just given Marcus a series of orders regarding war preparations and was devising a new strategy to expand the empire’s borders. Marcus remained serious and focused, but the moment Valeria entered the room, he could sense that something had changed.

As Valeria appeared at the doorway, Commodus rose to his feet, his familiar possessive smile spreading across his lips. "My dear Valeria," he said, his voice adopting an overly sweet tone. "I’m glad you’re here. It’s time for us to talk."

Marcus’s brow furrowed slightly at the sight of her, but he quickly composed himself, lowering his gaze back to the map as if trying to pretend she wasn’t there at all. Yet Valeria’s eyes lingered on him. Their gazes locked for a fleeting moment one that ignited a silent fire between them.

Breaking the silence, Commodus stepped toward Valeria and gently touched her chin. "I gave you time to think about my offer," he said. "As an emperor, I have shown you more than enough mercy. But after recent events, far too much time has passed. Now, you must decide. My patience has run out."

Valeria’s heart pounded in her chest. She could hear the veiled threats in his words. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice measured and respectful. "I am deeply grateful for the great honor you have bestowed upon me. Your strength, your justice, and your leadership are the very foundation of this empire…"

Marcus’s gaze flicked toward her the moment those words left her lips. His expression, though controlled, held a flicker of surprise and something deeper pain. Valeria sounded as if she were about to accept Commodus’s marriage proposal. Marcus continued to observe her, his head inclining slightly, his eyes giving her an almost imperceptible nod.

It was as if he were saying, This is the right choice.

When Valeria caught that look, she felt her breath hitch. A surge of anger and disappointment burned through her. The idea that Marcus of all people approved of her marrying Commodus felt like a dagger to her chest. She turned back to Commodus, whose expectant expression remained, but suddenly, her words shifted.

"…But, Your Majesty," Valeria said, her voice now firmer, filled with newfound resolve. "I fear I would crumble under such a great responsibility. I know that I am not strong enough to stand beside a ruler as mighty as you."

Commodus’s smile froze for just a second before he quickly recovered. "Strength?" he echoed, his voice eerily calm. "Strength, Valeria, comes only from the heart. And I know that your heart is strong."

Valeria held her head high, refusing to soften the hard edge in her expression. "Your Majesty, I am honored by your offer. However, I do not believe I am worthy of you. And for that reason… I cannot accept."

Silence fell over the room.

Marcus stiffened at Valeria’s words, his entire body going rigid. The carefully composed mask Commodus wore cracked—just slightly—but he quickly patched over it. He continued to smile, inclining his head ever so slightly.

"I see," Commodus said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of something dangerous. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze toward Marcus.

"General," he said, his tone deceptively calm but laced with an unmistakable warning. "I wish to speak with Valeria alone. You may leave."

Marcus’s brows knit together slightly. Every instinct told him that leaving Valeria alone in this room with Commodus was a mistake. "Your Majesty, perhaps another time—"

Commodus’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "I believe I made myself clear, General. Leave."

Marcus knew that defying a direct order was not an option. He had no choice but to bow his head in submission. Before turning away, he cast one last look at Valeria. His gaze held concern, protectiveness, and something else regret.

"As you command, Your Majesty," he said, stepping toward the door. But each step felt heavier, the weight of leaving Valeria in this dangerous solitude pressing on him.

Just before closing the door, Marcus stole a final glance back. Valeria stood with her back to him, facing Commodus, unyielding. The emperor, in turn, watched her like a predator sizing up his prey.

The sight left a bitter taste in Marcus’s mouth.

But he shut the door and forced himself to walk away, trying not to think about what might happen next.

As soon as the door closed, Commodus took a deep breath, and the silence in the room cast a shadow over Valeria. "I have waited far too long to speak with you alone, Valeria," Commodus said, his voice as smooth as ever, but now tinged with a hint of mockery. In his eyes, barely concealed beneath his composed exterior, was the simmering rage of a man who had just been rejected.

The air in the emperor’s chamber was thick with tension. His face appeared calm, but the slight tremor in his gaze and the way his hands clenched and unclenched betrayed the fury bubbling beneath the surface.

"Valeria," Commodus murmured, his voice still soft but carrying an unsettling edge, as if it could turn to steel at any moment. "I must admit, I admire how strong-willed and stubborn you are. But…" He stepped closer, and Valeria instinctively took a step back. Commodus halted, tilting his head slightly. "Why does that stubbornness prevent you from understanding my love for you?"

Valeria hesitated. In the depths of Commodus’s gaze, there was darkness one that pierced through the mask of false kindness he wore. "Your Majesty…" she began cautiously, but Commodus silenced her with a raised hand.

"No. Today, I will speak, and you will listen!" His voice was still composed, yet a dangerous sharpness had crept into his tone. "I have told you that I love you, that I have protected you at every turn, that I would sacrifice anything for you… And still, you rejected me. Your heart! Your heart may not want me, but an emperor’s heart… loves revenge."

Valeria froze. Commodus’s voice was no longer affectionate; it was a poisoned arrow aimed directly at her. His eyes had darkened, his gaze drilling into her with an unsettling intensity.

"Did I not say I wouldn’t harm you?" Commodus took another step forward. "Ah, my dear Valeria… Mercy is my greatest virtue." He paused, his voice eerily calm. "But even virtues have their limits."

Valeria’s heart pounded violently, and a cold sweat trickled down her forehead. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"I should have you killed, but I never will," Commodus said, forcing a smile onto his lips. "Instead, every single day that you have denied me, you will come to regret your decision."

Valeria’s eyes widened. "No! Please, do not harm my family!" she pleaded, her voice echoing through the chamber. Commodus, however, only let out a mocking laugh.

"I would never be an emperor unworthy of my people," he said with exaggerated righteousness. "Even when they make mistakes, I am forgiving… though small prices must still be paid." But his voice had risen now, turning into something more unhinged. Commodus suddenly grabbed Valeria’s arm, his grip tightening as he shook her violently. "AM I NOT MERCIFUL?" he roared, his eyes wild with madness.

Valeria recoiled, trying to pull away, but his grasp was as unyielding as iron. Staring into his frenzied eyes, she felt both terror and helplessness. "Your Majesty… please," she whispered, but there was no escape from his grasp.

For a moment, Commodus hesitated. He took a deep breath, loosening his hold. He let her go but his eyes never left her. "I forgive you," he said, his voice eerily composed once more. But Valeria knew that this was merely the calm before the storm. Commodus inclined his head slightly, an unsettling smirk on his lips. "Remember, Valeria," he said mockingly. "Mercy is my greatest virtue. But everyone must pay a price. And so will you."

The echo of footsteps resounded through the cold stone corridors of Rome, not as mere footsteps, but as the march of judgment. Under Commodus’s orders, soldiers moved swiftly in the dead of night, pulling Valeria’s loyal companion, Asinus, from his stable.

At first, the wolfhound did not resist, trusting the humans around him as he always had. But the scent in the air changed, and when the soldiers’ chains struck against his neck with harsh force, his instincts flared. A growl rumbled deep in his throat, echoing through the palace corridors. He never made it to Valeria’s chamber he vanished like a ghost into the darkness.

The next morning, when Valeria saw the empty stable, the dread in her chest twisted into fury. Gathering her resolve, she made her way to Lucilla, Commodus’s sister, the only person who might help her. She found her in the grand halls of the palace, her voice urgent as she called out. Lucilla turned at the sound, immediately noticing the distress on Valeria’s face.

"What happened? You look pale."

Valeria’s voice trembled as she spoke. "Asinus… He’s gone. My wolf, my only friend! He wasn’t in the stable. Someone took him," she said, tears streaming down her face. The stone walls of the palace seemed to swallow her sorrow whole.

Lucilla knew her brother’s cruelty all too well. "Perhaps… perhaps he just wandered off, Valeria. Maybe he will return," she offered, but even her voice carried no conviction.

Valeria turned to her, her eyes ablaze with anger and fear. "Commodus did this, didn’t he?" she demanded.

Lucilla remained silent. That silence alone was enough to confirm Valeria’s worst fear.

Meanwhile, Asinus was being prepared for the arena, a pawn in Commodus’s cruel scheme. The wolfhound had been confined to a dungeon-like space beneath the palace, left without food or water. For days, he heard only the clinking of his own chains, his body weakening while his instincts sharpened. The guards beat him, trying to strip the loyalty and gentleness from his eyes, trying to awaken the beast within.

Commodus’s orders were clear Asinus was to be trained for battle, transformed into a savage creature, and paraded before the crowds as nothing more than a mindless beast.

Every morning, Asinus was dragged into the empty arena with chains. The gladiators struck him with wooden swords, forcing him to snarl and bare his teeth. During these training sessions, his fur became matted with blood and dust, yet he never stopped resisting. No matter how much pain they inflicted, he refused to become the savage beast Commodus wanted him to be. He still carried the loyal and noble spirit that Valeria had taught him.

The day Asinus was to be taken into the arena was fast approaching. To Commodus, this fight was a symbol of his power. When he realized that Valeria would never kneel before him, he decided to spill Asinus’s blood in the arena as a declaration of his victory before the Roman people. The death of an animal in the arena was another way to enslave a person’s soul.

The fine line between the grandeur of Rome and the darkness of bloodshed was about to be drawn in the tragedy of an innocent creature. As the golden sunlight illuminated the stone columns of the Colosseum, the voices of thousands echoed through the arena walls. The crowd was eager for entertainment and brutality; Commodus sat among them, exuding the air of an indifferent king upon his throne. Valeria stood beside him, a silent prisoner. She had been forcibly brought here, taken from her home under the escort of soldiers.

As the iron gates slowly rose, something inside Valeria shattered. The scent of dust and animal musk filled the air first. Then, a familiar figure appeared, restrained by chains. Asinus was being dragged into the arena, his wild eyes filled with the yearning for freedom. He snarled, struggling against his bindings. The cheers of the crowd drowned out his desperate efforts. Valeria clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a muffled cry.

"No! This is not a game! You can't do this!"

Commodus turned to her with a calm smile, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.

"My dear Valeria, this is merely a spectacle," he said, his tone almost fatherly, yet laced with a subtle menace. "The people of Rome deserve to witness justice in its most entertaining form, don’t you think?"

As another gate opened, a gladiator clad in armor emerged from the other end of the arena. He wielded a deadly spear in one hand and a round shield in the other. The gladiator hesitated for a moment, seeming to acknowledge Asinus with an air of respect. But under the sharp gaze of Commodus, he had no choice but to follow orders.

Valeria clutched Commodus’s arm.

"Stop this! I beg you, Commodus, put an end to this!" Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice trembling with despair.

Commodus leaned in closer, his words dark and intimate.

"Asinus is just an animal, my dear Valeria. What truly matters is you. The light of Rome. But debts must be paid. Now, watch."

Asinus lunged toward the gladiator, finally free of his chains. But exhaustion was evident in his movements. Valeria could see the signs—he had been tortured and starved before the fight. She realized then that the emperor still nursed his hatred for a dead general even after two years and was now exacting his vengeance upon the wolf.

At first, the gladiator remained on the defensive, blocking Asinus’s desperate attacks. But then, at a subtle signal from Commodus, he moved in for the kill. The crowd erupted in cheers, their thirst for blood and violence insatiable, while Valeria felt as if she were trapped in a living nightmare.

Valeria’s screams carried all the way to the section where Marcus Acacius stood. For a moment, the sound froze him in place. When he turned toward the arena and saw Asinus, something in him stirred. The noble beast fought with every ounce of courage he had, refusing to die easily. Marcus’s hands clenched into fists, his breath quickened. He understood then that this was nothing more than another way for Commodus to assert control over Valeria. But Marcus had his own duty to fulfill—he was preparing to leave for a new mission with his soldiers. And as a ruler who had secured his power with the support of the people, he had already succeeded in silencing the Senate. Even so, the rage and grief inside him were undeniable.

When blood finally stained the dust-covered ground, Asinus collapsed. The deafening roar of the crowd filled the arena as Valeria squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight. But Commodus gripped her shoulder once more, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction.

"You must watch," he murmured with a dark smile. "Everything has a price, my dear Valeria."

Valeria gasped for breath, feeling as though the air had been stolen from her lungs. In a sudden movement, she wrenched herself free from Commodus’s grasp.

"I hate you!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Commodus’s smile slowly faded as Valeria turned and fled the arena, running through the grand doors of the Colosseum.

As she disappeared into the city, Marcus Acacius was finishing his final orders to his men. He saw the young woman, her face flushed from crying, her body trembling. For a brief moment, he wanted to abandon everything and go after her. But duty held him back.

The events of the arena would not be forgotten—not by Valeria, not by Marcus, and certainly not by Commodus. This was not the end of their story. Valeria’s tears, Marcus’s silent fury, and Commodus’s relentless cruelty would intertwine their fates once more.

The star-studded sky of Rome cast its weight over Valeria’s home. In the deep silence of the night, a mournful air filled the girl's room. She sat by the window, lost in the memory of Asinus. Her eyes carried exhaustion, her face despair. Her hands restlessly moved over her knees; she wanted to do something, but there was nothing she could do.

A gentle breeze slipped through the crack in the window. With it, a shadow emerged. Marcus Acacius entered almost soundlessly. Though the weight of his armor brought a faint echo into the room, his movements held the disciplined caution of a gladiator. At first, Valeria did not notice the shadow, but when she suddenly turned and saw him, her eyes widened.

"Marcus!" she whispered. Her voice was filled with both shock and a hint of anger. "What are you doing here? If my brother or father sees you..."

Marcus raised his hand slightly to silence her. "No one noticed me. I had to see you," he said. The concern in his voice made it clear why he had taken this dangerous risk.

Valeria looked at Marcus without wiping away her tears. "I... I can't say I'm fine. But maybe it doesn't matter. I never truly understood who Commodus was. As a child, I thought there was goodness in him. I believed he would protect me, that he would never harm me... But I was wrong. And now Asinus... Asinus' death..." Her voice cracked, the words breaking on her lips.

Marcus knelt beside her. "Valeria," he said, his voice low but firm. "I know there is nothing I can say to ease your pain. But know this: Asinus' death is not your fault. Commodus’ heart... it is like stone, unfeeling. He has no concept of morality."

Valeria turned her head toward Marcus. "But why?" she asked. In her eyes, there was a plea for an answer. "If he is so evil, why is he still this powerful? Marcus, you are doing nothing to change this. Does this satisfy you? Aren’t you a general, a leader? Commodus listens to you. He trusts you."

Marcus lowered his head and gave a faint smile, but it was filled with sorrow. "Commodus' trust exists only as long as I obey him," he said. "But Valeria, no matter what, I will stand by your side. If I can keep you safe, that is enough."

Valeria gripped Marcus' hand tightly. "I don’t want safety, Marcus. I want freedom. For myself, for my people... And I want you to be part of it."

Marcus took a deep breath. "Valeria, overthrowing Commodus is not just about courage. It is about power. To start a rebellion, I must gather loyal soldiers. More than half the army is devoted to Commodus. After Maximus, he made much more strategic moves. I can only trust a few. This is not something that can be solved overnight."

Marcus took a few steps and said, "It’s not just about gathering soldiers," his voice carrying an undertone of helplessness. "This month, I must prepare for the Eastern Campaign that Commodus has planned. I have been assigned to reorganize Caesar’s legions. If I let this opportunity slip, I may never have another chance."

Valeria’s face twisted with anger and grief she could no longer suppress. "The Eastern Campaign? Are you here to protect Rome, or to serve as a shield for Commodus’ cruelty? Going east, following his orders—is that not submission?"

Marcus remained silent. She was right, but he understood the deeper strategy behind this. Infiltrating Commodus' legions was a step toward an internal coup. Yet, he did not want to explain this to Valeria.

Seeing his silence, Valeria took courage and stood up. Her eyes locked onto Marcus' deep brown ones. Her fingers brushed against his wheat-colored skin as she gently caressed his cheek. "Marcus, if we were just two ordinary people, do you know what would happen? Maybe we would live in a simple countryside farm. We would have children, raised within a life filled with love. Peaceful and happy, living a true life."

Marcus took a deep breath. "Valeria, we cannot escape reality. We are both part of the palace. My duty is to protect Rome. Your duty, as a noblewoman, is to protect your honor, to be a symbol of hope for the people."

Valeria narrowed her eyes and took a step closer. "Yes, we are not ordinary people. But we can feel like them. Even if our love is forbidden, our hearts beat like any other. You, Marcus Acacius—why do you deny this? If you truly care for me, why are you afraid?"

Marcus flinched at her words. Valeria’s defiant voice shook the deepest corners of his heart. Slowly, he turned toward her, his face in the darkness appearing both hardened and vulnerable. "Because..." he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Sensing his hesitation, Valeria pressed further, her confidence growing. "You fought for me, protected me, mourned Asinus. Isn't that too much for an ordinary Roman general? Marcus, tell me the truth. What do you feel for me?"

Marcus stopped resisting. His eyes locked onto Valeria’s, and he slowly reached out, gently caressing her cheek. “Valeria,” he said, his voice trembling yet firm. “I love you. Admitting this has been the hardest battle of my life.”

Valeria was momentarily stunned by Marcus' confession.

Marcus hesitated for a moment longer. Then, suddenly, he cast aside all his reservations and leaned toward Valeria. His hand cupped her chin, and he pressed his lips against hers.

The moment Marcus’ lips touched Valeria’s, time seemed to stop. Rome’s grand villa stood as a silent witness under the moonlight. The kiss was as passionate as the clash of two swords on a battlefield, yet as tender as the dance of two souls finally uniting. In Marcus' strong arms, Valeria felt like a goddess; the kisses of this battle-hardened man transported her to a sacred temple, a world where only the two of them existed.

Marcus’ fingers traced the contours of Valeria’s face, feeling the warmth of her delicate skin beneath his touch. This contact was a healer, wiping away the exhaustion of a thousand battles. Valeria placed her hands on Marcus’ armored chest, and through the passion of their kiss, she embraced him as if wanting the entire world to understand what they felt. With her eyes closed, she wanted to be certain that this was not a dream.

This kiss resembled a tragedy written by the gods holding the passion of Zeus and Hera, yet carrying the sorrow of Prometheus. Their love felt both blessed and cursed. Marcus gripped Valeria’s waist, pulling her even closer. In that moment, it was as if they had cast off all the burdens of the world. Rome, Commodus, wars… all were forgotten. Only they remained, two souls entwined.

Marcus pulled away, breathless. His eyes lingered in Valeria’s gaze for a moment, seeing an eternity in those deep brown depths. “Valeria,” he whispered. “This feels like a forbidden dream.”

A smile appeared on Valeria’s lips. “I feel the same. Being with you is like touching the stars. But at the same time, I fear losing them.”

Marcus’ expression grew serious. “Not yet. Not now. The Eastern Campaign could be a beginning. A chance to divert Commodus’ attention and gather soldiers loyal to me. Bringing him down will be a longer battle than we thought. But for you… for you, I will win this war.”

Valeria placed her hand against Marcus’ cheek, gazing at him with admiration. “You,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion, “are not just a soldier. You are a leader, a hero. And I love you in every way, Marcus Acacius. There is nothing in all of Rome’s gold that I would trade you for.”

Marcus couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. This time, the kiss was even deeper, even more passionate. As Valeria surrendered completely to Marcus, she felt the moment transform into something sacred. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she absorbed every breath they shared between their lips. This was more than just a kiss—it was a moment carved into Rome’s stone walls, an eternal testament to their love.

Marcus placed one hand on Valeria’s back, the other around her legs, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Without breaking eye contact, he carefully approached the bed, laying her gently onto the silk sheets before sitting beside her. But Valeria was ready for more. She grasped Marcus’ arm, pulling him down with unexpected force. Marcus leaned in, sealing his lips against hers once more, as if he would never let go.

Their breaths mingled, and the forbidden yet legendary nature of their love echoed like a hymn to Rome’s ancient gods. This moment felt as if it were being etched into history as one of the greatest love stories ever told.

When Marcus finally broke the kiss again, both of them were breathless. “This war will be long,” Marcus said, his voice both determined and passionate. “But no matter what it takes, I will protect you. I will stand by your side.”

Valeria caressed her thigh near her groin, taking a deep breath. “And I, Marcus, will always be by your side. Even if death awaits us in the end, I will never leave you.”

With those words, they both knew that the fire burning in their hearts could no longer be extinguished. This love was not just theirs; it was a legend that would be etched into the history of Rome.

Marcus Acacius was determined to make Valeria feel better tonight. He would bring light to her darkened soul, mourning the loss of Asinus, and pull her away from the suffocating loneliness that had imprisoned her. A young woman like Valeria deserved this. While girls her age sat in their chambers, pondering what to wear to tomorrow’s garden parties, Valeria was paying the price for a sin that was never hers. Her family had always seen her as nothing more than an asset, valuable only because of their position at the emperor’s right hand. She had been alone since childhood. And now, with Asinus—the only true friend who had nourished her soul—cruelly taken away, the only hope Valeria had left to hold onto was Marcus Acacius' love.

Tonight, he would set aside his identity as a general and engrave upon her skin the undeniable truth that she was not alone.

As Marcus continued his tender kisses, his hands explored the curves of Valeria’s body. His fingers trailed from her waist down to her hips, feeling the full, rounded softness that seemed to ripple beneath his touch. When the calloused palm of a man who had spent years gripping the hilt of a sword met the smoothness of her legs, he found them as flawless as Rome’s famed marble and as soft as Chinese silk.

She reminded him of the freshness of his younger years.

Valeria gently lifted her head, pulling away from Marcus’ lips for a brief moment. In her eyes, a mix of desire and love shone—something that might have seemed sinful but was perhaps the purest feeling in the world.

Marcus curled his lips into a smile, his expression full of warmth. “What is it, my love?”

Valeria's lips parted, and her words came out as a whisper. The smile on her face was undoubtedly an attempt to mask her shyness. “If you don’t take off your armor, how can I touch your skin?” Her eyes held a look that longed for more than just a kiss.

Marcus was taken aback. “Do you really want this, Valeria? You know, you don’t have to. I’ll only touch you when you’re ready.”

But Valeria needed to understand where she stood in Marcus’ heart. She wanted to be certain that their kisses weren’t merely gestures of affection or sympathy. She wanted to find each other in the overwhelming pleasure of their bodies entwined. “I want this,” she whispered.

Marcus rose from the bed, never breaking eye contact with Valeria as he began removing his armor. His movements were slow yet precise. As Valeria watched him, her gaze traced the muscles of his body, the strength in his arms, the imposing presence of the man standing before her—the man who wanted to make love to her. And that was when she truly noticed how much older he was.

The deep lines on his face told the story of the battles he had won, the enemies he had conquered, and the strategies he had devised. The silver strands woven into his hair and beard screamed of a life where not a single moment had been wasted.

The realization sent a strange thrill through her. To have captured the attention of such a perfect general, to belong to his tenderness, his mind, his reason, his vulnerabilities, and his raw desires—it was intoxicating. The pride she felt at being desired by him mutated into an undeniable arousal.

Marcus could be everything to her—her mentor, her friend, her father figure, her lover.

And what feeling could be more satisfying than that?

Absolutely nothing.

She let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his chest pressing against hers. The scent of a soldier still clung to his clothes, and she knew that just a few hours ago, he had been giving orders to lower-ranking soldiers. He should terrify you; in every way, a general should inspire fear. But she was undeniably in love with him, caught in the spell of something that kept pulling her in. He intrigued her, he surprised her.

Marcus slid his hands under her green nightgown and pulled her upwards. His fingers found her clit, warm and glistening in the reflected candlelight; they brushed softly against the slick skin of her vulva. His fingers took control, digging into her wet folds and slowly teasing her entrance. Instinctively, her hips bucked, the need for his fingers inside her growing stronger. She knew it too, as his fingers slowly, painfully circled her clit. The pain in her nub grew stronger, her heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears. She sank her head hard into the pillow.

“Please,” she begged.

Marcus’s free hand gripped Valeria’s chin tightly. His thumb brushed over her lips, opening her mouth and speaking against her lips before exploring her mouth with his tongue.

“No, not now, my lady. This is your first night. I’ll come inside you when you’re ready,” he said, his breath mixed with hers…

When Marcus pushed his tongue into Valeria's mouth, he realized how wet she was. Warm and tempting, just like her wet vulva. His tongue licked her hungrily as he sensually caressed her clitoris and the entrance to her vagina.

Valeria was trying hard not to moan, otherwise she was about to reach the peak of pleasure that would echo throughout the room. But she couldn't do it, that would mean throwing herself into the fire. Especially with her brother behind the wall where her head was... What if he heard her sister's moans? This moment when the night locked the sounds inside made the sins much more visible. This was crazy. While her family was busy with their work in the house, their young daughter was tasting pleasure for the first time in the arms of a man older than her father in her room. Moreover, this risk, the idea of being caught, excited Valeria and made her feel every touch and caress of Marcus more sensitively.

Marcus wanted to see Valeria's womanhood, to live it, to feel it in his mouth the way he felt his tongue. To feel such a young, intact vulva in his mouth would be like a blessing to him. His whole system would collapse and his orgasm would be just as intense.

He pulled back his lips and sat up slightly. While Valeria was wondering what Marcus had in mind, Marcus completely removed her nightgown and dropped it on the nearby chair, leaving Valeria's smooth skin completely bare.

"Now I want you to open your legs a little, my lady," Marcus said. Valeria, excited at the certainty that he would finally enter her, did as he said. Her feet slid across the sheets, opening them wide enough for him to get between her hips. But something was wrong. She expected Marcus to stand up, put his knees on the bed, and get between her legs, facing each other, but he didn't. On the contrary, Marcus Acacius moved a little closer to the edge of the bed, away from her, and moved his head toward her womanhood.

Valeria raised her head and looked at what the man was doing. Her lips parted in surprise and excitement. "What are you doing, General?"

Marcus cocked his head mischievously and looked down at her. “I promise you, not a single day in your future sexual experiences will go by that this moment doesn’t cross your mind,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness and lust.

Valeria had heard about many sexual experiences while talking to her other noble friends. Some had been with her husband, some had been while she was handling a few boys chosen by the commoners, some had been with her lover. She even knew that her brother had been to Rome's most famous brothel, but she had never heard of such a thing or seen anyone do it. This was very new. Very different.

Marcus paused for a moment when he saw her vulva and how full it was. It was something else he thought was as delicious as red meat and wine. A juicy, gooey, full vulva. His fingers first squeezed the outer lips. Then he cupped her, feeling the fullness in his palm. Then he inserted his thumb and forefinger between her outer lips and stretched them outward. Her swollen, twitching clitoris stood before him like a work of art. It was bright red, stained with pink tones all the way to the entrance of her vagina.

"You are beautiful, Valeria," Marcus said, the admiration evident in his voice. "I have never seen anything like it before."

Valeria felt a twinge of shame in her heart. Everyone said she was the most beautiful girl in Rome, but no one had ever admired her body or her femininity. This was new, and it felt absurdly good.

When Marcus pressed his tongue against her inner lips and began to lick them up and down, Valeria flinched. Her eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure, and she could not breathe. She buried her head in the pillow and her chin rose. She wanted to scream, to moan out loud, but she could not. She exerted all her strength on the sheets, squeezing them until the veins in her hands became more visible. She held her breath when Marcus began to move his tongue in a circular motion around her clitoris and squirt. The slick sound of her wet vulva meeting his tongue echoed in her ears, and was proof of how hungrily he was licking.

While Marcus placed his tongue at the entrance of her vagina and stimulated it, Valeria bit her lower lip. Otherwise, her breathing would have increased, her breathing would have become harsh and she would have almost shouted. Her body was writhing in the arms of pleasure. In adolescence, Commodus would try to excite her with small touches to show how much he desired her and was in love. He touched her hips once, moved his lips to her neck once, and cupped her breasts once. These were the most erotic moments for a young girl who was just learning about her sexuality at that time, and even though she didn't like Commodus, she let him do these. She had always wanted to taste the strongest pleasures that sex would provide with the man she would love. But this was far beyond what she had expected.

Marcus continued to flick her inner lips with his tongue, occasionally kissing her and while kissing her, he was sucking her clitoris with juices, drinking her juices of pleasure. He continued to lick her from top to bottom with appetite, making small moans that showed how much he enjoyed it. In the meantime, Valeria's breasts rose and rose, feeling as if she could no longer endure this merciless pleasure, she involuntarily reached her hand to Marcus's gray hair and pulled it, intertwining her fingers between them. Her legs were shaking. She almost wanted to close her legs, squeeze her womanhood and give her body, which was captive to this wild pleasure, some rest.

Valeria nearly cried, “Please,” she moaned again, a low moan. But this time Marcus knew Valeria was ready. He pulled his head away from her vulva, straightened up, and crawled onto her. He put his hand on her neck and squeezed gently. He growled with the harsh, authoritative tone his military service had given him, “Please, what, Valeria, speak plainly to me!” All he needed was a nudge and he would give her what she wanted.

"Come inside me, I want you inside me," she begged.

Marcus sat up to pull off the fabric covering him, crossing his arms as he gripped the hem of his clothing and removed it in one swift motion. As his body was left completely bare, his tensed muscles, broad shoulders, and defined Adonis belt were revealed.

He leaned over her again, his groin between her legs as his long penis rubbed against the entrance to her vagina. He couldn't wait to root it in her vagina, but he was a gentleman enough to know that he had to practice first. He wanted to make Valeria's first night the most pleasurable of her life, and he was afraid of making her regret it.

As the hard tip of his cock continued to push against her vagina, he enjoyed the lustful expression on Valeria's face. Every time she moaned, he heard how much she enjoyed having a man as old as her father fuck her, and it made him even more horny.

He wanted a definitive answer from Valeria. He asked breathlessly, "Do you want my veiny cock in your tight vagina, Valeria, huh? Do you really want me inside you?"

Valeria's patience was running out, she put her hands on his hair and pulled, "Gods, do it Marcus, I want you inside me, please, do it."

Marcus put one hand on Valeria's face, so afraid of hurting her that he was very careful when entering her, while he was caressing the girl's cheek with affection. Valeria's juices were thick and slippery enough. So he had no trouble entering her. But Valeria's vagina, which had never tasted a penis inside her before, was stretched by Marcus's cock and it hurt when her walls completely enclosed him. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing through her teeth. "Marcus," she said with an innocent expression on her face, "it hurts."

Marcus continued his tender caresses. His lips kissed her between her jawbone and her ears, whispering, "Shh... It'll pass soon," he said, "No need to get excited, your vagina is just getting used to my big penis. It'll pass soon, okay," he said, continuing to caress her hair and treat her with care. As the pained expression on Valeria's face began to give way to pleasure again, Marcus sped up. His penis was completely hard, his balls red and swollen.

Neither of them could regulate their breathing rhythms, they were breathing rapidly. He kept his eyes fixed and wanted to see every expression of his forbidden love. When Valeria's moans started to get louder, Marcus' hands suddenly slid to her mouth and closed it tightly. "Try to control yourself, darling. You don't want your family to hear us, do you?" He growled with light moans. But how could a young woman who had experienced such pleasure for the first time stay calm while Marcus' thick tool was pressing on her 'G' spot?

Marcus pulled his hand away from her mouth and pushed his thumb into her lips. It was still early, but he wanted to imagine how Valeria would perform if she ever wanted to take his cock in her mouth. Valeria imitated Marcus’s tongue strokes as she licked his finger. His thumb was inside her mouth, leaving a salty taste on her tongue. She licked her warm finger, moving her tongue around both the top and bottom layers, licking hungrily like she was licking a candy cane. This was making Marcus even more horny. He increased his speed as he imagined her tongue strokes on his cock.

"You use your tongue wonderfully," he said to Valeria, and Valeria was proud that the experienced man in front of her was pleased despite her inexperienced sucking, and a strange desire arose within her.

There was a 'crack' sound as Marcus' balls hit Valeria's hips. The colorless liquid flowing from the tip of his penis combined with hers, making the squirting sound louder. The bed creaked in sync as he increased the speed of his fucking.

"Oh, my gods," Marcus moaned. "May the gods forgive me, but I love being close to you. I love touching you, Valeria." He continued to pound his cock into her rapidly. "No one loves you as much as I do, Valeria. Not the emperor, not anyone else, do you understand," he said between his growls. And he continued to fuck her mercilessly. He thrust hard as if the general spirit he had been trying to suppress had emerged. Valeria was now at the height of her orgasm. Although the penis had completely filled her vagina, the juices of pleasure had leaked from the vagina's exit. This drove her crazy and when she began to moan loudly, Marcus this time closed his lips on hers. He kissed her passionately. "Shhh... my love, be patient a little longer. It's almost here." The bed was shaking violently. Marcus's hips were now tightened, his sperm was almost about to wash Valeria's womanhood. But Marcus could not allow such a thing, he held himself back and suddenly pulled out of Valeria and came on her groin, breathless. As his sperm slid down her skin in a white liquid, Marcus looked at Valeria, supporting himself with his arms on either side of her head. There was a mixture of surprise and happiness on her face, while at the same time, his ears were ringing from the final stroke of pleasure. Marcus felt at ease with the idea that the goddess in front of him was pleased with him.

"I love you," Marcus said, and leaning forward, he kissed her on the forehead for a long time. Then he moved to her lips and kissed her warmly, as if they hadn't just made passionate love. Then he threw himself on the empty side of the bed.

Marcus Acacius lay wrapped around Valeria in the heavy silence that surrounded the room lit by the dim light of the torches. His chest supported Valeria's delicate head, while his hands tangled in her fine hair. That hair, which flowed through his fingers like a stream, lightened the weight of time with every touch.

Marcus's eyes were fixated on Valeria's face, resting peacefully on the snow-white pillow. The hands that his enemies had feared were now caressing her hair with a touch as gentle as a bird's feather.

"Valeria," he said, his voice calm but inescapable, like the waves beating on the rocks, "when I touch you my weary soul is instantly rejuvenated. I have spent a lifetime between sword and blood, but now for the first time I understand why my heart beats. Your existence is beyond my measure by any victory on the battlefield. You are my peace, my light, and the last miracle the gods have sent me."

Valeria found an echo of honesty and passion in his words.

As Marcus whispered these words, his eyes shone with deep love for Valeria. It was as if a dream otherworldly had come true, loosening the bonds between gods, man, and fate for a moment. In that moment, Valeria’s presence lightened all burdens in Marcus’s world, and the darkness in the room yielded to the light.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

[smallratboy]

Home - Commodus x Reader

You had been best friends with Commodus for years, and were always by his side. One night, while dancing at a festival of Mars, you realize that you’re in love with him.

Masterlist

You and Commodus were best friends, and had grown up together. Your father worked in the senate, and was a close companion of Marcus Aurelius'. You and Commodus were side by side your whole lives, as he grew from a gangly child into a gorgeous young man, and you two had shared in many adventures. 

“Commodus!” You shouted, letting yourself into his room. He jumped, but smiled when his eyes landed on you. 

“As spontaneous as always,” He said, walking over to you. “Didn't your emperor ever teach you to knock?” 

“He was too busy teaching you to scrape manure,” You laughed, waving him away. Commodus rolled his eyes, recalling the hours of ‘character building’ his father put him through. 

“Did you come just to remind me of my tragic past?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

“Of course not,” you exclaimed, remembering why you had come. “There is a festival of Mars tonight, and I want you to accompany me.” 

“Don't remind me,” Commodus sighed. “You know I detest such…revelries.” 

“But there will be music!” You cried, grabbing him by the shoulders. “And dancing! Please, Commodus?” 

He sighed, but nodded. You let out a joyful laugh, and hugged him.

“We have a few hours before the festival,” Commodus noted. “I have an idea for what we could do in the meantime…” 

There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and you smiled. You two could be quite the hellraisers, between Commodus’ plotting and your fearlessness. The palace servants had grown accustomed to the sight of you two dashing through the hallways after your little pranks, hand in hand and giggling madly. 

You and Commodus slunk through the palace and to the great hall, where an esteemed guest from Ostia had come to discuss with the senate. The guest was boring everyone with demands for Ostia, despite being one of the richest of the outer provinces. He droned on and on about more cattle, more soldiers, more crops. Several of the senators let out bored yawns.

Commodus snuck behind the Ostian's chair, which he had abandoned during his lecture. From his pocket he produced a small leather sack, which seemed to be empty. He carefully placed the sack on the seat, and shot you a smile. You were confused, and wanted to ask what was happening. Commodus raised a finger to his lips, signaling to you to be quiet, and pointed to the hall where the man was finally finishing his speech. 

“...Ostia thanks you for permitting me to come and speak, and I hope our alliance never fizzles out!” 

He sat heavily on the sack, and a sound ripped from it like the farts of a great dragon. The sound echoed in the great hall, and everyone sat in stunned silence. Then, the people began to laugh in a cacophony of sound, you and Commodus included. Your shoulders shook with laughter, and you clutched at your stomach to hold yourself steady. 

The Ostian man whipped around, looking for the source of his embarrassment. Commodus grabbed your hand, pulling you out into the hallway before you could be seen. You two were laughing like crazed hyenas, and you had to stop to catch your breath. 

“Where…in the world,” you said in between gasps of breath, “did you learn that?” 

“Elagabalus, an emperor” Commodus giggled, and smiled at you knowingly. “Those history lessons paid off after all.”

You shook your head and laughed. Leave it to Commodus to forget everything about his history lessons except for the farts. 

"We should go back to your quarters before someone suspects us,” You said, taking his hand without a second thought. You had known one another for so long that your friendly affection to one another was second nature, and it was one of your favorite things about your friendship. 

In his room, you sat on his bed and talked about everything and nothing. Commodus confided in you about his anxieties as the heir to the throne, and his hopes for Rome. You told him your fears for the future, uncertain as to whether you would be able to find a career which interested you. Philosophy and bureaucracy seemed meaningless to you, as much as your father loved it. 

“Is there any future for the children of Rome?” you asked, sighing. Commodus laughed, and you shot him a glare. 

“You could be a poet,” he said, smiling. “If tragic phrases like that come so naturally to you.” You shoved him lightly, laughing. 

“What a life for us that would be,” you said. “The emperor and his poet.” 

“I would like nothing better,” Commodus said truthfully. Your laughter died as he leaned forward, the heat from his body radiating off him. You were close enough to smell the olive and rose oils on his skin, and to see the minute details in his stormy green eyes. His hair, curly and soft, was backlit by the sun. The orange hue of the sunset reminded you of the time. 

“The festival will be starting soon; we should get ready,” You said, standing up. You felt cold, missing your friend's warmth already. 

“I suppose,” Commodus whispered, and watched you go. Although the traditional color for mars was red, you chose to dress in orange. The color reminded you of the sun, and of the times you had watched it set over the ocean.

Commodus dressed in plain red, but you smiled when you saw him nonetheless. He still seemed a little disgruntled at having to attend, and you laughed at his grumpy expression. 

The festival was lively, and there were musicians playing fantastic tunes which you could dance along to. Red cloth hung from the ceiling, turning the sunlight from gold to bloodred. People laughed and ate and danced, and you could feel the vibrance of life all around you. 

You took Commodus’ hand in yours and dragged him to the dance floor, laughing as you went. Even with your fears for the future, it felt good to enjoy this snippet of happiness. 

Commodus, despite his reservations, was a fantastic dancer, and your bodies moved in a steady rhythm. Your arms rested on his shoulders, his hands gripping your waist. His eyes sparkled when he laughed, and your heart soared.

The music began to slow, and Commodus drew you into a hug as you two swayed on the floor. His head rested in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheek press against yours. 

“I'm happy you invited me to come,” He whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I'm happy you came,” You whispered back, smiling. Your arms tightened around him, pulling his body against yours. You rested your head against his, his curls tickling your face. Your heart fluttered at the feeling of him melting against you, and he let out a contented sigh.  

Your heart melted at his soft trust, and you realized now that you loved him. Of course you did; you always had. 

It felt right to be in love with Commodus. He had been by your side longer than you could remember, and you hoped he would always be there. Every joy, every sorrow, every moment, you two had experienced it together. Your love for him was as natural as breathing, and you wanted to share this love with him forever.

“I love you,” you whispered against his cheek, your breath tickling his ear. He dislodged himself from your grasp to look at you, his eyes searching. Had he heard you correctly?

“What?” He asked, barely above a whisper. You began to panic, worried that you had said the wrong thing. 

“I love you,” you repeated. Commodus took a breath, his cheeks slightly flushed. 

“And I love you,” He murmured, his face mere inches from yours. You leaned forward, your nose brushing against his. You could see every detail of his face; his piercing eyes, the cleft on his lip, the tiny freckles scattered across his nose, his dark eyelashes which fluttered as he studied your face. 

His lips met yours, soft and careful. As you pressed closer together, you felt a deep sense of completion. As you held him in your arms, your lips pressed together in a tender kiss, every emotion on display, you felt like you were opening the door to a place you had always known was there, but never seen. 

Commodus pulled away from you, a smile touching his lips. He took your face in his hands and kissed you again, grinning like a schoolboy. He pressed his forehead against yours, the two of you smiling and giggling softly. 

“I love you,” he whispered. His face was lit up by his giddy smile, and you two couldn't stop laughing. Love bubbled out of you in joyful waves, and you saw your love and happiness reflected on Commodus' face. As you hugged him and traded happy kisses with him, you knew.You were home. 

an: if you like, please comment and reblog! If you wanna see more fics like this, I take requests!!

[gorbo-longstocking]

Laborans Duram aut Vix Laborans | Chapter 1

Pairing: Commodus/Reader

Summary: There wasn’t much that you couldn’t handle. Growing up in a podunk town with more cows than people gave you a threshold for tolerating nonsense far greater than that of the average person. You were thankful for that because, as of late, you found yourself in a bit of a situation. After being forced from the comfort of your dishwashing station when a server called out, you wound up catching the attention of your classmate, who, as it happened, wasn’t aware you were his classmate.

Commodus, known for being a bit of a pretentious nuisance around campus, also happened to be a very strange man. No matter how often he turned up at your work to order a caesar salad and a water, he would always request that you serve him.

At least he tipped well.

Tags: Modern AU, College AU, Transmasc Reader, Autistic Reader, Humor, this is a romantic comedy where the funny bits come from commodus being pathetic and kind of unhinged, that said, Later Stalking, Later Obsessive Behavior, Second Hand Embarrassment, Social Anxiety, Commodus’ Tumultuous Family Issues, Reader Has A Southern Accent

Word Count: 5.3k Words

Read on AO3

Without a word, you slipped into the kitchen through the back door and grabbed your apron. The only sound that announced your presence was the click of the lock, accompanied by the snap of your gloves. Your arrival at your job was the same as it had always been since you had been hired, quiet and without warning. Every day, you would clock in to take your frustration out on the little odd jobs in the kitchen of a local mini-chain, ranging from washing dishes to prep. It was simple, it was easy, but most of all, it was lonely. That was the most important part. Being alone and not having to talk to anyone. You were never good at socializing.

Of course, you would offer a friendly nod to your coworkers, and, of course, they would return it. You knew them well enough, familiar with them and their mannerisms that you were comfortable in letting the mask fall, if only a little bit. So long as you remained amicable and did your job, they would put up with you. It wouldn’t be the first time you got a little too comfortable with your peers. You very quickly realized that your threshold for the weird, and other people’s, were very, very different. Even being deemed ‘too quiet’ was a negative mark on your character. You found it strange. Everyone was at least a little odd, should one not hold onto a little patience in the presence of eccentricity?

Interacting with others was a very strange dance that, while you learned to do it well, matching and mimicking the people around you, it was also exhausting. That was why you saved your efforts for the people you would be interacting with daily, and why you told your manager that, outside of the odd busboy duties, you would not be engaging with the public. Why waste that effort on someone you would know for less than an hour. It didn’t make sense to you.

As you stipulated — kindly, you might add — when you were first hired, under no circumstances should your manager ever ask you to wait tables. You were hired for back of house work, and that was where you would stay. If it came down to it, you would quit. At least, that was what you told yourself. Right now, your job was perfect. Chopping vegetables, or listening to music as you cleaned dirty dishes, all while avoiding all of the little dramas outside of your bubble. You dared to think that if all of your life was like this, you would be happy. This was not an occupation you would give up easily, especially not on a whim.

Someone shouted your name from the dining area. With a small hum of surprise, you lifted your head from where you were staring at your shoes. It was your manager, a middle aged woman with glasses named Nora. You could see her waving at you from the window. She was nice. Enough of a hardass to keep people in line, while also being open enough to shoot the shit with during your off time. While you never took her up on her offer, you appreciated it nonetheless.

You took out your earbuds and shoved them into your pocket before making your way to the double doors that led to the front. Unwilling to step all the way out into unfamiliar territory, you only poked your head out. “Yes’m?”

Nora sighed, looking guilty and it put you on edge. She only made that face when she was about to ask you to do a task that no one else wanted to do, like chase raccoons out of the trash can outside, or clean the bathrooms after someone made a real mess of them.

“I need a huge favor from you, buddy.”

Awkward, you sidled out of the kitchen all the way into the near empty dining room. It was a weekday, and in the middle of the afternoon, so it being slow wasn’t a real surprise to you. After all, you wouldn’t go out to eat at this time, let alone here. Logically, the rest of the town’s inhabitants wouldn’t either. Then again, logic wasn’t always on your side.

“Someone throw up again?” You asked. “S’okay if they did, I can clean it. No big, ma’am.”

Nora shook her head. “Tabby called out.”

That was one of the waitresses. You felt your heart begin to sink as dread filled the empty space in your chest. If Tabby called out, there would be no one working the dining room for a few hours. You doubted any of your coworkers would come in during a slow period. Especially not to make a few bucks in tips then go home. The amount they’d spend on gas would be more than they received for a few hours of work. Nora noticed your expression of dawning horror and gave you an apologetic grimace.

“We need you in the dining room, buddy.”

You should quit. That was what you told yourself you would do if it came to this. The only problem was finding a new job. Would you be able to get a new one in time to make rent? Likely not considering the current market, and your savings were woefully depleted. Californian expenses were nothing to sneeze at, even in a small college town outside of the city. Sweat made your hair stick to your forehead. You could feel your mouth moving, speaking in your stead. Not your threat to quit, mind you, that was lodged deep in your esophagus.

Instead of anything you wanted to say, all you managed was an uncomfortable, “Alright.”

Nora breathed a sigh of relief, her entire body deflating under the weight of her calmed nerves. “You’re a lifesaver, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You imagined the store burning in the wake of your absence. It made you feel a little better. “Just this once, yeah?”

“You got it, buddy. Once is all I’ll ask of you.” That was a lie if you ever heard one, but you held your tongue. Nora placed a hand between your shoulders to guide you to the register, and you stiffened under the unwanted contact. She didn’t seem to notice as she didn’t remove her hand. It wasn’t her fault, you didn’t say anything about your aversion to physical touch, so you wouldn’t hold it against her.

Once at the register, she gave you a quick crash course of everything you needed to know. What buttons to press, where to swipe a customer’s card, it was all rather self explanatory. You picked up on it fast. The real problem was the public, and you could feel your heart race as you imagined every flub and misstep you were sure to make. Apparently, a few mistakes were common and easily forgivable, at least from a managerial standpoint. Due to the fact that you had never waited tables before, even if a customer put in a formal complaint about you — unless you spit in their food — it would be written off. The assurance was supposed to make you feel better, but all it did was remind you that, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t please everyone. Swallowing hard, you shifted from foot to foot, your fists clenching at your sides.

Nora prattled on about the importance of service with a smile, her eyes boring expectantly into you, while you kept your own fixated on her nose. She raised her eyebrows and pointed to her grin, not letting up until you matched her pleasant expression with one of your own. You tried to morph your face to mimic hers, though it came out into more of a grimace.

“Good enough,” She huffed. With a jerk of her thumb, she gestured over her shoulder to the bar. “If you have any questions, ask the bartender, Maximus. I have work to do in the office.”

You stood on your tiptoes to peer over her shoulder to catch sight of the man in question. He looked tired, almost grizzled, a baseball cap over short cropped hair and stubble on his chin. His shirt was decorated with the faded logo of some dad-rock band you couldn’t be assed to remember.

“Right. Maximus,” You muttered.

Nora gave your shoulder a firm shake, her eyes light behind her glasses. “You’ll be okay, buddy. I knew I could count on you.”

With that, she disappeared into the office and you were left on the battlefield alone. Your gaze flickered to Maximus who busied himself with cleaning glasses. Alone, save for one ally. You may as well introduce yourself. At least no one was being seated yet. The host, a teenager named Allison, was watching videos on her phone. So long as you heard the — rather annoying, you might add — nonsense spilling from her speakers, you knew you were in the clear.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself to meet one of your fellow coworkers, and approached the bar. Maximus looked up from his glass to acknowledge you with a short nod. He saw your apron, recognizing you as a fellow employee rather than a customer, and didn’t bother to cease his cleaning.

“Hello,” You greeted with a quick wave. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m your coworker.”

After you gave him your name, he repeated it and held out his hand for you to shake. It was calloused, if not warm. “You’re the kid who does all the prep work in the back, right?”

“And dishwashing, or any other job no one else wants to do.” It was weird to be called a kid by a man who was sure to only be a few years your senior. Well, you guessed so. He seemed to be of indeterminate age, somehow both thirty and forty at the same time. If you were told he was forty-five, you’d believe it, and if you were told he was thirty-one, you’d believe that too. You didn’t have enough nerve to ask him yourself, so you resigned yourself to being ‘kid’ and ‘buddy’ for the rest of your life.

Maximus chuckled. “Jobs no one else wants to do. That’s what I’m usually stuck with. It’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

“Nora told me you’d help me if I needed it,” You said awkwardly. May as well get to the point. There was no need for a senseless preamble.

Thankfully, Maximus seemed to appreciate your bluntness. “I can. Do you need anything now?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a small shrug. “Nah, just wanted to do a greeting. Would be rude to not, I think. Was nice meetin’ you, Maximus.”

“Same to you. Come get me if anyone gives you trouble.”

With a final parting shake, you released his hand and tried to find a task to busy yourself with. Allison had already gotten all of the cutlery prepared, so there was no use in undoing all of her hard work if only to keep your restless hands busy. There was one table nearby who was in the middle of eating, an elderly couple quietly sharing each other’s company. You watched them for a bit, studying the way they ate to make sure that, as soon as they were done, you could swoop in to take their plates. The woman whispered something in her husband’s ear and gestured to you, her expression twisted in dislike.

Right, staring was weird. Look elsewhere, idiot. A part of you wanted to give them an apologetic smile rather than the blank look you had fixed them with earlier, but your facial muscles refused to move. Instead, you averted your gaze to the front door. To your horror, someone was entering the restaurant. Allison perked up and hid her phone in her back pocket. You let out a long sigh when you saw the elderly couple glancing around the dining room, presumably in search of Nora, who was still in the office. They were going to complain about you. The realization made cold sweat trickle down your spine, further cementing your belief that waiting tables was as awful as you thought it was.

Allison’s phone began to blare again, your cue that the new customer was seated. However, when your gaze flickered around the dining area, there was no one there. Perhaps they were seated at the bar. That would make them Maximus’ problem, and that thought comforted you far more than necessary. A sigh of relief left you when you saw a young man speaking quietly with Maximus, only for it to catch in your throat when you recognized him.

Black hair that curled ever so slightly the longer it became, accompanied with light eyes that held a manic glint to them, no matter who he was with or where he was. As usual, he was wearing a polo shirt, though it was covered with a dark sweater this time. You could see the collar framing his neck. It was Commodus from your philosophy class, looking rather upset as he spoke to Maximus. While you didn’t know him personally, he was outspoken enough in class for you to take notice of him. He always had an argument for the professor. At first, you listened, but after the seventh time, you learned to tune him out. Sometimes, you wanted to confront him and ask him to refund the money you paid for the class. He took up more time talking than the actual professor. Though, you were laid back enough to not care all that much — your grade was still good, so you’d still get the credits necessary for your diploma — others were not so lenient.

Outside of his small circle, he was not particularly liked by the student body. There were rumors circulating about him, something about him being clingy and obsessive, not to mention annoying. The latter you were inclined to believe if his behavior in class was anything to go by, but you tried not to pay the other insults against his character any mind. You didn’t know Commodus personally, so you wouldn’t judge him preemptively.

You were staring again. Before either man could notice your attention, you averted your gaze to the window behind them. That way you could still be nosy, while having plausible deniability. Commodus’ grip on his computer bag’s shoulder strap tightened enough for his knuckles to turn white. He was definitely upset about something. Maybe it was the fact he was interacting with Maximus, or maybe it was a compounding of problems that made him irritable. Whatever. It wasn’t like you would ever find out. If you were lucky, he would leave once he finished his conversation with Maximus and you would go back to only seeing him in class.

A pretty robin flitted from branch to branch around Commodus’ head. There was a nest outside, you had seen it coming in. You hoped the eggs inside would hatch soon, you already had a few names picked out. The sight of Commodus storming away from the bar drew your attention, and, to your growing distress, he didn’t head towards the door. Instead, he bypassed Allison, forcefully holding up his hand when she tried to greet him, and sat down at an empty booth.

“Sir, you can’t sit there,” She said as her face switched between Commodus and the store’s tablet at her station.

“Why not? It’s empty.” It wasn’t your first time hearing Commodus’ voice. After all his yammering in philosophy, you should be used to how soft spoken he sounded, even if there was an indignant edge to it.

Because he wasn’t sitting in your section, you answered in your head. In fact, he was sitting in no one’s section, and if you really wanted to, you could ignore him due to that fact. Not that you would, even if the temptation was there.

Allison stammered, her face turning red as she fought for a way to explain her job to him in as few words as possible. “B— Because it’s against the rules, sir! Let me take you to another booth.”

“No, I like this one.” Without another word, Commodus opened his computer bag and pulled out his rather sleek looking laptop. It not only signified that he believed the conversation was over, but the fact that it would take an act of god to move him.

Allison’s jaw dropped before she snapped her teeth shut. Good, she was gonna catch flies looking like that. She didn’t bother to give him a menu, which made Commodus narrow his eyes at her, and turned up the volume of her phone as she returned to her hostess station. Now, she sat with her body turned entirely away from him. That left you to give him his menu. Fantastic.

When you passed Allison to grab a menu and cutlery, she mumbled, “Good luck. He’s a real prick.”

“Thanks,” You muttered. Maybe if you prayed hard enough some idiot would crash their car into the store and you would get to go home.

As you approached Commodus, he stopped typing to glance at you. At first, he set his jaw, possibly assuming you were a manager about to ask him to move, only to relax when he saw the menu in your hands.

“Hi,” You said, your voice awkwardly flat. Unsure of where to put the menu or his utensils with his laptop in the way, you set both behind the device. “What do you want to drink?”

There was no recognition in his eyes, causing you to relax ever so slightly. He didn’t know you were a classmate of his, that negated the likelihood of small talk by a heavy margin. “Water will be fine.”

“Yessir.” He tried to make eye contact with you, his eyebrows twitching together as you looked everywhere but him. To keep the interaction quick, you ducked your head to look at your shoes and shuffled away.

There was an audible chuckle behind you. You didn’t know what Commodus was laughing at, and you prayed it wasn’t you. As you filled a glass with water, you realized your hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, you willed your body to stop betraying you, though it only obeyed a little, and made your way back to Commodus.

“Excuse me,” The elderly woman from before waved you down, her expression irate. “Me and my husband have been done with our food for quite some time.”

With a polite nod, you addressed her, “I apologize, ma’am, I’ll be right back to get them.”

“Well, you’re here now,” She snapped as she gestured to the empty plates. When you met the gaze of her husband, his eyes were hard. This wasn’t good. All you wanted to do was go in the back and cry.

While you knew that other, more experienced servers would have no problem picking up two plates with only one hand — or, so you assumed — you were not an experienced server. In all likelihood, you would wind up dropping everything. “I— I don’t have enough hands, ma’am. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Don’t have enough hands,” She muttered with an eyeroll. “Where is your manager? I’d like to speak with her.”

“I’ll fetch her once I deliver this—”

“No. Now. I want to speak with her now. Don’t think I didn’t notice your little staring contest with us earlier, young man.”

Shame, hot and bright made your cheeks darken. You shuffled in place a few times, wishing, not for the first time, that you were anywhere but here. This was what you were worried about. There was no denying you were odd, your mannerisms and speech patterns did little to endear you to the general populace. It took a while for people to warm up to you. Sometimes, you wished you were different. More like one of those social butterflies, whose presence lit up the room, making others flock to them like bees to honey. You would never be like that.

“Yes’m.” With that, you turned on your heel to fetch Nora.

The entire way to her office, you felt three pairs of displeased eyes bore into you. First, the woman and her husband, second only to Commodus, likely wondering where his water was. If only you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables. You would never agree to wait tables again.

You knocked on the office door and it opened a crack. “Nora, a customer wants to speak to you.”

“Already?” She groaned. When she stepped into the dining room, she gave you an annoyed glare. So much for being her lifesaver. “I’ll take care of it. Go give your table that water before they want to speak to me too.”

“Sorry,” You murmured, though she didn’t hear. Or, she didn’t care to.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to fix your face before you had to make your way to Commodus’ table. His displeasure didn’t melt when he caught sight of your expression, though it did soften as you set his cup and straw down on the table.

“What took you so long? I’ve been ready to order for some time now.”

With an half-shrug, you pulled out your notepad so you had something to stare at other than him. “Sorry, I’m havin’ some trouble with the folks at another table. What’d you like?”

Commodus was silent for a moment, though you could hear his fingers drumming on his keyboard. “You’re not very friendly. Perhaps you could work on that.”

“Right, I, uh…” Awkwardly, you gestured to the dining area with a sweeping motion of your hands. “I’m not usually out here. I work in the back, mostly.”

“What made you change your mind?” Commodus gave you his full attention now and you fought the urge to squirm.

“Nothing, really. Waitress called out, so I got asked to take over ‘cause no one else would.”

He nodded, his expression taking on a hint of empathy, though you were starting to wonder if he was projecting. Instead of looking at Nora, who was doing her best at reigning in the elderly woman’s anger, he was looking at Maximus. “And in your kind act, you managed to take the brunt of a stranger’s frustration.”

“Guess so,” You managed to say. Hopefully, he didn't notice the sweat beginning to build at your temples. “What, uh— What’d you like to eat again?”

“You work in the kitchen, what would you recommend?”

Nothing really. Half of what was cooked here was tossed into the microwave. There was only one category of menu items you could guarantee was made to order. “Caesar salad, probably. We get the vegetables fresh.”

Commodus nodded with a hum. “I’ll take that, then. With balsamic.”

Expectantly, his pupils flickered from you to your notepad, as if he didn’t trust you to remember the simple order. Not wanting to argue, you scribbled it down and made your way over to the register to input his meal. By the time you were done, Nora was back in her office, not bothering to spare you a word of greeting, and the elderly couple was gone, leaving you alone with Commodus. Thankfully, he seemed much more occupied in typing on his laptop than you or his surroundings.

If you had to wager a guess, he was working on his essay for your philosophy class. You had already finished yours a few days prior, right on time, you might add, considering it was due tomorrow. Commodus, on the other hand, appeared to be struggling. Every so often, he would sigh, resting his chin on his palm to glare at his word document with complete and utter disdain before he returned to typing. The only sounds that filled the dining area were the clacking of his keyboard, Allison’s phone, and every so often, the sound of Maximus shuffling about behind the bar. You felt yourself being lulled into a sense of peace.

Interrupted by the ring of a bell when Commodus’ salad was ready. You missed washing dishes more than anything. At first, you tried to hold the plate as you had seen other servers do, only to very nearly lose your balance. Scratch that plan, you would hold the vinaigrette in one hand, the salad in the other. That would get the job done, and that was all you needed.

Commodus didn’t spare you a glance as you set his food down. You had to stifle your relief, only for your shoulders to hike when he finally addressed you. “Thank you, waiter.”

“No problem.” Watching him open his mouth to continue speaking made your stomach drop. You wondered if you ran into the kitchen if he would demand to talk to your manager. It was a likely yes, so you stayed rooted in place.

“What is your name?” As much as you didn’t want him to recognize you, it would be rude not to answer. Thankfully, he still didn’t realize you were in his class, even after you told him what you were called. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thanks.”

He let out a strange laugh, a mix between amusement and offense. “Aren’t you going to ask me mine?”

“Sorry,” The apology left you on instinct. There was no point in telling him you already knew his name, not unless you wanted to seem like a creep. Your remorse made Commodus’ hackles lower and his smile a bit more genuine. “What’s your name?”

“Commodus,” He said. Inhaling a sharp breath, he turned his attention back to his essay, then, to your surprise, flipped the screen to you. “Tell me, what do you think of this? It’s for my philosophy class at the nearby college. You know what philosophy is, correct?”

“Yes, I know what philosophy is,” You responded, blander than you intended. Commodus didn’t seem to notice. Insistent, he pushed his computer closer to you, and you realized there was no getting out of this.

At first, you intended to give his essay a cursory skim. To your surprise, despite his argumentative nature in class, he was quite a good writer. His prose was a bit too poetic for an analytical essay, and there were a handful of grammatical errors, but ultimately, it was quite good. At the very least, it would get him a ‘B.’ While you read, you could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as he studied your face down to the most minor detail. Under the table, his knee bounced.

“It’s good, you know?” You said once you were done.

Commodus didn’t light up, his expressions were far too subtle for that, though he did look visibly relieved. “Thank you. I hope the professor thinks so as well, though I figure there is no impressing that harpy. How she got the job is beyond me.”

A small frown made your lips twitch. You liked your professor, she seemed very passionate about the subject she taught. Commodus simply didn’t like her because, while she would entertain his interruptions, eventually she would have to shut them down. Unfortunately, without giving yourself away as a classmate, you wouldn’t be able to say that.

With a noncommittal hum, you rocked back on your heels. “Well, I think you’ll be at the top of the class with this essay.”

It wasn’t a lie, you truly believed it. At the end of the day, Commodus knew how to make his stance known and elaborate well enough for the reader to understand. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face. It made your wring your damp hands behind your back before he settled into a smile. “I appreciate your flattery. After the day I’ve had, it is nice to receive some form of kindness, albeit from a stranger.”

There was a layer of anticipation to his tone, as if he wanted you to ask about it. Against your better judgment, you took the bait.

“What happened?”

Commodus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes, and you felt a hint of relief to no longer be under their scrutiny, if only for a moment. “From the moment I awoke, everything has gone wrong. Despite studying for days, I surely failed my chemistry exam. I swear, the dean will hire anyone off the streets, my chemistry professor can hardly teach. Traffic has been horrible, and yet, I took it upon myself to visit my father, who barely even acknowledged me.”

At the mention of his father, he grit his teeth, his words becoming strained. It took a shuddering breath for him to regain control of his emotions, and you couldn’t help but feel weird at the display.

“To make matters worse, my sister’s cellphone broke, so I had to come to this damnable restaurant to relay a message to her boyfriend,” He sneered the term with as much malice as he could muster. “All while I have an essay to finish. I had informed everyone that I have to put all of my mind to finishing it. Somehow, my request must have slipped past their attention, as per usual.”

“I think it’s commendable,” You said after you were certain he was done.

Commodus straightened and swallowed hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob. There was a desperate aura about him as he waited for you to speak. “What is commendable? Tell me.”

“Just… After all of that, you still managed an essay this good. I think the professor’ll be impressed.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right, she will be,” He said as he scrolled back to the top of his word document. “Do you think I should leave a note letting her know that despite what I went through today, I managed to get her essay done?”

You blinked, taken aback by his question. In what world would that be a good idea? It was only when he began typing did you find your voice, quick to stop him. “I wouldn’t. She might not be as, uh… Impressed. It may look like you’re fishing for compliments.”

Commodus sighed and deleted what he had written up. “That is a good point. My confidence is not so fragile as to need her approval.”

It certainly seemed otherwise, though you bit your tongue to keep your observations to yourself. “… Is there anything else you need?”

“A to-go box.”

As you headed over to the hostess station, Allison gave you a questioning glance from her phone as you passed. Commodus began putting away his laptop. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was chugging his water through his straw. What a strange man. Allison likely had the same thought because, when she met your eyes, she looked towards Commodus and shrugged.

Once you returned to his table, his glass was empty and his computer bag was back on his shoulder. You handed him the to-go box, and his brows furrowed before he handed the box back to you.

“Are you not going to put my salad inside?”

“Um, sure.” Albeit confused by his request, you went through with it. You may not have been a server before, but you were almost certain customers boxed their food themself. Either way, it was no big deal, you were simply taken aback.

Commodus took the box when you were done and placed it on the table. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, and without missing a beat, he pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“What?”

Folding the bill in half, he placed it, rather forcefully, into your palm and closed your fingers around it. “A tip for exemplary service.”

“Your salad was twelve dollars.”

But, by the time you managed to speak, Commodus was already gone. You turned your helpless gaze to Allison who frantically mimed at you to stuff the bill into your pocket. On autopilot, you did as she instructed and returned to your post to stare blankly at the door, awaiting your next guest.

Perhaps your threshold for the weird was smaller than you previously anticipated.

A/N: Hiiiiii, so. New Gladiator fanfic time, and just as I did with my main Gladiator fic, I will be having long ass author’s notes. This one was a long time coming, I’m not gonna lie. The idea spiraled out of control in the server when me and someone else started yes and-ing him into oblivion. So many of the ideas we concocted are so fucking funny and so, so real. I absolutely haaaaad to write this.

Some background information on Commodus and his family. He’s this pathetic and cringefail rich boy who’s father bought his way into this college, and also into the fraternity he’s in. While Maximus is more adept at stereotypically masculine pursuits and sports, Commodus is like… really into tennis and golf. If you’re looking for hot and sexy Commodus, you’ll probably be sorely disappointed here because I love my men wet and pathetic. And full of neuroses. I’m going to be spreading my ‘Lucilla is older than Commodus’ propaganda with this, I just think Commodus screams younger brother.

As for Lucilla. I’ll be getting into it in the main body fic eventually, but just so there’s no confusion, I’ll spell it out now. Because it is super confusing. That’s what makes it funny to me. Lucius is twelve and Lucilla was a teen mom at sixteen. Maximus is Lucius’ father, but Lucilla’s dad moved the entire family out of town to protect her from rumors and she never told Maximus why. Later on, she marries Acacius (the dad who stepped up) and, eventually, she reconnects with Maximus after the tragic death of his family on Facebook. Where he joins their marriage as Lucilla and Acacius’ third. That’s basically it. It’s unironically very healthy, there’s no jealousy between any parties. Acacius and Maximus get drunk and do home improvement on the weekends, love wins.

Also may as well address the elephant in the room with uhhhh, Commodus being in love with his sister. I am a staunch incest hater, so I’ve made an executive decision he’s not in this AU. However! He is still very attached to her and her opinion of him, to a really cringe degree, and he is viscerally jealous of Maximus. Depending on what’s funnier, he either also hates Acacius or is actually cool with him, I haven’t decided yet.

If you’re curious as to why Commodus was laughing about waiter’s inability to make eye contact, it’s because he assumed that they are attracted to him. And is too shy to make eye contact with him. Autism doesn’t even cross his self-absorbed mind. Also! Pointing it out in case anyone missed it, the caesar salad thing was, in fact, a pun. Absolutely on purpose, yes, I’m the king of comedy, how did you know? Lastly, you best believe Commodus has a wad of hundreds in that wallet of his. I don’t think he tips well, or at all, often, but waiter validated him during a bad day, so some compensation is necessary.

Thank y’all sooooo much for reading, hehe!! Please tell me what you thought of this if you have the time! DNBTS will still be my priority, but this will be nice to have on the side for when I need to rake Commodus over the coals. I’d love to hear you guys’ thoughts, eeeeee!!! Oh, oh, and if you figure out what the fic’s title translates to in English, I’m sure you’ll think it’s funny!!! Thanks all! Ily!!!

[lumpatto]

Anyone pls…pls understand me….

[tsarisfanfiction]

Beautiful Song

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Tragedy, Romance, Friendship Characters: Venus, Apollo, Commodus, Reyna, Frank Venus watched her plan come to fruition, and then enjoyed the bonus content that followed. @toapril-official TOApril day 8 - Echoes of Battle Cries. This was supposed to be Aphrodite. Venus wanted in instead.

Venus loved people-watching.  Mortals, immortals, gods… it was all the same to her, wrapped up in the glorious bundle that was entertainment, some dancing to her whims and some dancing all of their own accord, falling in love, falling out of love, breaking hearts…

No-one could ever accuse love of being boring.

It wasn’t just romantic love she presided over, of course.  Love was nothing so narrow-minded, and the making and breaking of friendships, familial and platonic bonds was no less entertaining and fun to play with.

Right then, Apollo was giving her bountiful entertainment on all fronts.  His uncertainty with Reyna – a particularly clever set-up of hers, Venus thought with no small amount of smugness – had reached its conclusion, resulting in an embarrassed Apollo and a Reyna who had finally recognised who she was and what she did and didn’t need to exist as herself.  Venus hadn’t been the only observing god to delight in Apollo’s predicament, there, although she had been rightfully the most delighted, seeing as it was her own handiwork coming to fruition.

Now, she was watching something she had had no hand in, but was enjoying the results regardless.  The emotional torment of the loss of a loved one – platonic perhaps, but Apollo had almost viewed Frank as a son for all that he belonged to her beloved – was delicious.  Venus hadn’t involved herself in Juno’s lifewood scheme, wasn’t particularly interested in what the other goddess got up to most of the time, given her prudish and limiting attitude towards things like monogamy, but that certainly didn’t stop her appreciating the way it had ended in such a blaze of glory.

Apollo’s anguish and pain, his heartbreak at Frank’s sacrifice, came very close to toppling her own Reyna scheme for the most entertaining moment since Apollo and Margaret had arrived at Camp Jupiter, and Venus was also eager to see young Hazel’s reaction to the news.  She was a strong young woman, and that only meant her reaction would be all the more exquisite.

Despite that, Apollo wasn’t done providing her with entertainment she would remember and cherish for centuries, because to finish it off, the third emotional torment of the trio he was experiencing, was a mess of his own making, and that…

Well, Venus loved orchestrating her romances and love-based relationships, loved interfering to gain the maximum entertainment, but she also loved it when people were messy enough that she didn’t even need to give them a nudge to bring out the best and worst in them.

Apollo and Commodus were one such pair.  They had been a disaster from the start, hurtling together like two out of control chariots and crashing together in a tangle of reins that couldn’t be separated and instead drew them even closer together, despite how terribly suited they were for each other – or how perfectly suited they were, depending on the perspective.

Venus had watched them the first time, the power imbalance between them and the way Apollo tried to ignore it and Commodus clawed his way up to try and even it out but always falling short because he wasn’t a god back then, and barely counted now, and thrived on it.  It was always messy, always take and take and take, no side ever giving to the other no matter what pretty words they dressed it up in, and was always destined to end in the most beautifully ugly fashion.

There was something darkly romantic about lovers killing lovers, the possessiveness of it all when they loved and hated themselves and each other, but despite it all, claimed each other’s life and death.  No-one else could have them, not a single aspect of them.  Not their love, not their life, not their death.

Venus had watched Apollo straddle the young emperor in his bathtub, outwardly so calm despite his essence being a wreck, and pin him down in a way that was sensual and brutal all at once.  Ending the life of the mortal he had fallen in love with, a stark parallel to the number of times he had desperately tried to save doomed mortals.

There was nothing healthy about the relationship Apollo and Commodus shared.  Not back then, and not now, either.  Commodus had died, but Commodus had survived, and the hate-love-hate between them had only tangled further, both of them still in love with the other while they hated them with every fibre of their being.

It was poetic that it ended like this.

Apollo’s hands were around Commodus’ throat again, straddling him in the same sensual manner he had millennia before, except they were accompanied by fire instead of water.  Perhaps Apollo himself, one day, would be able to craft something out of the parallels there, if he would bring himself to sing of this.  Venus hoped he would; his songs crafted of heartbreak always excited her essence the way nothing else he wrote quite managed.  A broken god beneath a mortal god, the end of the tale of two doomed lovers, doomed from the start and both always aware of it, but too obsessed to let go regardless.

It didn’t matter that Commodus had lost his beauty in the fire, that he was hardly a husk of the beautiful man he had once been.  Apollo’s anguish was still the same, bolstered even further by Frank’s sacrifice mere seconds before.  It was a tangible thing, the grief.

And then Apollo screamed.

Mortal he might have been, but it was not a mortal cry.  It was the cry of a god, a cry that reached deep inside the fabric of the world and tore at it, shaking the essence of watching gods.

It was thrilling, a song of heartbreak and rage and complicated emotions that all stemmed back to his love for his friends, for those he would see as his children if only he could, for the doomed love story he’d reprised against his will.

Apollo was aghast at what he’d just done, what he’d been able to do, and Venus suspected there were other gods watching and drawing their own opinions, but none of that mattered to her.  Let them think what they want, let Apollo struggle with his emotions and what love could do when he unleashed the darker side of it.

Venus had found her new favourite song of Apollo.

[streets-in-paradise]

Fixing Gladiator by making chained up Maximus do this to Commodus:

He pretends he is tilting his head down in respect, as if he is bowing to him, then knocks him down. Praetorians applaud, Quintus doesn't do shit (as usual).

( Idea by @wildsaltair, based in my own stupidity)

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part one - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three 𓃮 warnings: none for this part, but future descriptions of smut and violence. 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor. ✧.* This is a dedication piece to the man who started my obsession with questionable men/villains when I was younger and it only seems the right thing to do with all the hype coming back.

There was something otherworldly about Rome. You always felt it, every moment of every day, that the impermanence of such a city would continue to ring through the annals of time. It had been there long before you and would remain long after. Many of the buildings may deteriorate and the people change – coming and going like the passage of seasons – but here, in this area of the world, Rome would come to stand the test of time. 

You had always been in awe of it all since you arrived as a small child. Eyes darted to every structure, every perception of movement, caught in a trance. Now, after many years, this place continued to enchant you. The lowly streets you grew up in did not last long. Your mother had caught the attention of palace organizers – her food was regarded as the best one could offer. 

Since then, you have moved to staying near the palace. It's so close to court yet so far away. Each day your mother would take you to the kitchens to help her as soon as you became old enough to take the stress of the job. It worked out in your favour, eventually landing you a spot as a servant with multi-talents. Such a thing was rare, and because of that, you were always busy. 

You displayed the same prowess that your mother had in the kitchens but managed to charm other experts in your youth to teach you different skills. From then on, the bowels of the palace became your sanctuary beyond the bounds of the chaotic streets of Rome. Whether it be in the kitchens, the textile rooms, or even the playrooms for the servant's children to stay in and out of the way, you were always found working. 

Today, of all days, you found yourself outside of the kitchen and serving instead. Recently your chores had changed to different duties that required you to be in areas of the palace you did not grow up in. You had learned to like the shadows cast by people as they scurried about the torch-lined hallways of the underground. Now, you were above ground. Serving when necessary, cleaning as well. 

You would not have minded if it was not for the piercing gaze of sharp green eyes that tended to follow you as you went about your work. At first, you had not noticed it. You were too absorbed in your duties to see the constant watch of the newly appointed Emperor. 

However, you caught on quickly. Emperor Commodus would watch you intensely when you would walk into a room he happened to be in. You did not dare reciprocate. Despite growing up in the bowels of the palace, you knew all too well of the habits of men in positions of power. Similar in age, he grew up with you, yet never once had you crossed paths. It was likely due to the protectiveness of your mother. 

Royal male children often became insatiable once reaching adulthood and your mother wanted to spare you from it. Yet, from what you had heard, Commodus had not the taste of princes that came before. Of course, there was still occasional trysts – you could remember a fellow servant giggling about spending a night with him. You could also remember the heartbroken look on her face as she was let go from her services and no longer permitted on the grounds the day after. That happened a few times; Commodus would take in a lover for the night and then discard them the next day as if they were a speck of dust on his feet. 

It was why his heated gaze made you increasingly nervous with each passing day. Any day you could meet the same fate as those servant girls and lose the only place you remembered calling home. 

You breathed in and out deeply, stabilizing the pitcher of wine in your grasp as you prepared to enter the large dining chambers. The Emperor was having dinner with some guests that night and you were tasked with serving. It was not what you wanted, having preferred to stay in the kitchens and make the food, but whatever your master Attius says is done without question. 

With careful and calm steps, you pass the large opening into the room with your head humbly facing the floor. It would be an offence to raise your head and make eye contact with any of the men in that room. 

Their conversation as well was no consequence to you. They were speaking of politics, of a real world outside of your own. There was no care in your life about politics. Why speak on something that does not know you, or rather women, have a capacity for things beyond what they have predetermined? Why should you give it any time of day, when it has not and will not do the same for you? Ultimately, deep down, you wanted to care enough to change something about that predicament, but you supposed you would have a better chance of fighting and killing a tiger in close combat. 

You made it to the table. Custom permits you to fill the emperor's glass first and you become exceedingly nervous once near him. Never in your time there had you been so physically close to him. It would be stupid to deny his exquisite physique. Commodus had likely been crafted by the gods, as it is with the royal line. He reflected the perfect nature of the gods and their mastered ability to craft the perfect human. Now that you were close, you could smell the scent of parchment and burning wood that clung to him. 

The pitcher tipped and you poured his wine. All the while you did not feel his heated gaze on you. He seemed too busy talking to the guests and them laughing as if everything he said was the most genius and original words to pass a person’s mouth. However, once you moved away and another started to talk, you could feel the shift of his eyes. It always caused your heart to race and the tiny nearly invisible strands of hair on your arms to rise. A tingle went up the back of your neck. 

The emperor ignored his speaking guests to watch as you poured the wine into their cups. They continued speaking, not wanting to call out their Ceasar for his lack of manners. They acted as though they did not notice his green eyes become attached to your form. You took in another deep breath, causing your chest to rise and contract within the fabric of your tunic. 

Once you were done, you made your way to exit. The walls had come to suffocate you, and each second under the green gaze of the emperor made you want to crumble and fall to the ground. A slave could not be in their presence for long. Many took offence to it. You had been taught that you go in and out quickly, acting like a fleeting shadow to quell their needs; preferably without them saying it. 

At the entranceway to leave, another slave coming in to serve grabbed you forcefully on your forearm. Callias stood in front of you, a sneer on his face. You tried to pull your arm from his grasp once but knew he would not let go. He had a habit of exerting his strength over the other slave women. You noticed that as a trend from other slave men. They often put down slave women in an effort to feel a sliver of power in a world that had taken what little they had. 

Pathetic, but then again you wished to feel the same way as them. Just a dash of power and a bit of control over the world would feel good. 

“Master says you have taken too long to serve them,” Callias whispered, “You are to go to the kitchens and stay there for the evening.” The venom in his voice, coupled with the pain of his grip, caused you to flinch. You slowly nodded and knew that if you were to say anything it would be taken as disrespect. 

Callias let go of you, nearly flinging your arm away from him as he left you to go serve the emperor and his guests. The spot he grabbed was red and you could feel the ache concentrated there. It would not bruise, but from how much it hurt that fact was not relieving. Finally, you were free and you made work of leaving. You nearly ran through the halls and down the flights of stairs to retreat back to the place you feel most comfortable. 

During it all, you had not noticed the piercing gaze of Commodus as he watched the exchange transpire.

You had found yourself lost in the rhythmic motions of cleaning in the kitchens. It was soothing work once a majority of the workers had left for the evening. The silence allowed you to think as you meticulously scrubbed pots. While not your favourite chore, you scarcely trusted others to do the work well enough.  

The motions of your work distracted you so much that you did not hear the pattering footsteps of someone entering the room until they cleared their throat. You turned around and saw a guard. His clothing was more refined than the lower guards and you swallowed some saliva that was in your mouth. A slight sting of anxiousness swept across your spine. 

“The Caesar has summoned you.” His voice was smooth and echoed throughout the empty kitchen. Your gaze quickly swept about the space, hoping he was addressing anyone other than you. When you realized he was speaking to you, a weight settled in your gut. 

 “Is… is there a reason for my summons?” You questioned. 

The guard did not respond, choosing to turn around and walk into the exiting corridor by a spiralling staircase. You knew there was no other option but to follow. Putting the washing cloth down, you dried your hands and followed behind the guard. He remained a few paces ahead of you as he guided you up the stairs and through the halls of the palace. 

It was not as though you were oblivious to the location of the emperor’s chambers. Despite your limited time serving above ground in the palace, you still had mapped the entirety of the place when you were a child. 

Fear began to grow in your heart and weigh down on your lungs. There was an inkling of hope that he summoned you for something other than the reasons he called for other ladies. Your stomach growled, aware that you had not eaten since earlier that day. In the chaos of your work, it was a frequent habit to forget food. 

In a matter of minutes, you two had reached the doors to the room. He positioned himself on one side of the door, the other covered by a guard that was already there. You hesitated, unsure of what to do. The guard that fetched you grew tired of your loitering and sighed deeply before reaching for the hand and opening one of the two doors. 

You took one final breath and walked into the room. You scanned the area quickly, finding a large well-decorated room in front of you. Various mosaics spanned the walls, adding a sense of grandeur to an already elevated way of living. Carved busts were on display, along with various items that looked like they came from places outside of Rome – lands far beyond that were reached by the forces of the empire. In the very centre rested a bed. Four strong quartz pillars surrounded it, with linen draperies resting as a cover over the bed. 

You saw the figure of the emperor off to the side, standing with his back to you and facing a table lined with various foods. Fruits, nuts, meats, and baked goods you could recognize as having been made by you only a few short hours ago. He had already eaten recently – a grand feast with guests – yet already had more food lined up for him. That feeling in your stomach of both anxiousness and hunger screamed for a reprieve. 

He shifted to face you and your gaze quickly moved to the floor as a sign of respect. You held your breath, unsure of why he wanted you here. Was your service that evening awful? Had he lost care for the food you made and have fallen into disfavour with him? Or, were you going to end up like those other girls before, used and thrown out? 

“Look at me,” His voice was like honey, a sweet tang with a rich coat. You slowly raised your head and made contact with the sharp and deep sea green of his eyes. They reminded you of the foam that would wash up on the shores of your old home before coming to Rome. In a strange sense, it was familiar, which unsettled you more than it should have. 

“Wine?” Commodus gestured to a pitcher next to him and two spare cups. Your eyebrows furrowed as you scanned the gold-lined chalices. He let out a low hum as he awaited an answer. 

“Caesar, I don’t entirely understand…” You trailed off. 

“I thought as much,” He proceeded to pour wine into both of the chalices while you stood there in confusion. His figure was dominating and he had a manner that held control of the space. When he finished pouring both drinks, he turned back around and approached you. He held out the cup, but all you did was stare. It was incredibly unsettling to witness someone ranked so high above you serve not only themself but someone else of lower status.

“Well?” He moved the cup closer to you, his manner mostly amused, but underlined with a growing annoyance. 

“Th- thank you, Caesar.” You took the cup from him. Commodus’ fingers brushed against yours, warm but calloused. He hummed again and took a sip from his cup. You held yours, staring into the clear liquid. White wine, reserved only for elites. You had never even come near it in your life save a few times to serve it. Now that he was closer to you, the familiar scent of parchment and burning wood surrounded you. 

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment as a short silence fell over. Moving almost hesitantly, he used his free hand to reach up and brush the red mark on your forearm. You flinched, both by his touch and the slight pain it elicited. 

“That servant, the one who grabbed you, why did he do such a thing?” Commodus stepped back and moved towards the table full of food. He plucked a grape from a vine and plopped it in his mouth, an action that surprisingly caused a stirring in your lower stomach. 

“My master thought I lingered too long, Caesar,” Your answers were kept short, hoping that there was a way out of this. You still had no clue as to why you were summoned. 

“Lingered too long,” He repeated it as though mocking, but not towards you, “What a ridiculous notion. You are too pleasing to be a blight.” 

“I-” The words got caught in your throat. In one breath, he had insulted your master and then complimented you. You shifted the weight on your feet and decided to take a large gulp of wine, sweet with floral undertones. “Thank you, Caesar.” 

He made his way to his bed, climbing the two steps of the marble platform it was placed on and sat on the edge of it. Commodus was watching you as you stood there, still as a statue busts that littered the room and unsure of yourself. 

“There is something you wish to say. I can see it.” His words echoed through the room and reverberated through your bones. You ran your tongue over your teeth, tasting the sweet wine once more. 

“Is there a reason for my summons, Caesar?” You questioned. Commodus looked down at his cup and used his index finger to trace the edge. He appeared almost… lost for an explanation. 

“Your mother had been one of the cooks, the best as I remember. I’ve heard you have taken that place.” It was an obvious means of deflection, but you knew not to rebuke it. You were also unsure of how he knew so much about you. Did he inquire into your past before summoning you? Had you done something wrong?

“Yes, Caesar, I have been lucky to assume the position.” You answered. 

He surveyed you once more as if it was a personal struggle to look away. Not that it was anything unusual – Commodus always looked when you entered a room. That was likely the deciding factor in inviting you to his rooms after weeks of watching you. 

“Have you eaten?” He asked. 

“I… have not,” Your hold on the cup got stronger and warmed up the surface. 

“Eat,” He motioned with his cup towards the table full of food. You approached slowly, unsure of what to make of all this. It felt like a trap, it had to be a trap. The kindness he was displaying likely followed with a payment. You would have to repay him for this, and what better way would be your virtue? But surely the emperor did not need to bribe women, so what was really going on?

You reached out for a dried fig and ate it. Your stomach had been aching for a few hours and suddenly the onslaught of it all overcame you. The food in front of you was already beautiful, but it intrigued you even more. Commodus was not watching, but instead sat still and looked at his cup in deep thought. 

Silently, you ate. It was only for a few minutes, but the deep satisfaction of a full stomach was not something you were well acquainted with. After you were finished, you set your cup down that was now empty. The sound was sharp and caused Commodus to raise his head. You were still unsure of meeting his eyes. They were so intense that they would knock the air from your chest and cause your head to spin. That was not what you wished to experience. 

“Do you like your work?” His question was sudden and caught you off guard. It seemed that all Commodus was able to do was constantly surprise you with his demeanour. He was not like he seemed and you did not know whether that was dangerous or not. Unpredictability was unreliable. 

“I am honoured to serve the empire in any capacity,” Your words, rehearsed and polished, seemed enough to satisfy him. Commodus placed his cup down on a small bedside table and fell back onto the plush covers. He let out a sigh before adjusting and moving to the other side of the bed. 

“Come here,” He beckoned you over. Your brain started to conjure up scenarios, all of which would end up with you unsullied and out of work. However, you were surprised to see Commodus lying with his eyes closed. He patted the free spot next to him for you to sit. 

Slowly and unsure, you felt the bed dip where you sat and rested your back against the headboard. He kept his eyes closed, content with your compliance. 

“Sing for me.” He requested. 

“Excuse me, Caesar?” You asked. He opened both of his eyes, looking up at you through heavy lids. The space between you two was small and your heartbeat increased at that. 

“I know you can sing, I remember hearing it at the Cerealia festival. Sing for me.” He was staring at you expectantly. 

In your memories, you could briefly remember singing during that festival when you were a girl of ten – only a few years younger than the emperor. It was your first time singing in front of a large group of people. It had been a celebration in one of the gardens amongst some of the other slaves, but Commodus’ words led you to believe it was not just the slaves watching. 

A deep blush settled across your face. While you often occupied your time doing chores through humming and singing, it was not something you wished to do in front of others. The only reason why you sang at that festival was because your mother had wanted you to. However, no amount of excuses could ever be used to deny the emperor, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and began to hum a sweet tune. 

The sound carried through the air of the large room. Gradually, your humming turned into light singing. Over that time, Commodus had shifted closer, now only a finger width of space separated you two. One of his hands reached out to touch your forearm that rested by your side, brushing against the fading red mark. His fingers glided up your skin, raising the hairs there. The thumping in your chest increased. 

Quietly, as if not to disturb you, he spoke, “The slave that hurt you, what is his name?” 

“Callias,” You answered. Commodus hummed and closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head back into the pillows. He settled down but did not remove his hand from your arm. 

“Keep singing.” He mumbled into the pillow.

On his orders, you continued the song you had been singing before he interrupted. A warm breeze came in from the open balcony doors, reminding you of the heat of summer. Everything felt like an odd dream. This outcome did not even come across your mode of thinking when you were escorted to his room, but you were thankful it ended up this way. He had not tried to seduce you or even force himself on you when that failed. 

It seemed he only wished for company. You could not help but wonder if your performance so many years ago stayed with him. It was a stupid thought, silly even, to think that young him would have heard a slave girl singing and remembered. It was likely that you were simply sent up more often in recent weeks and had come to his attention. 

At the very least, that was what you tried to assure yourself as the emperor fell asleep next to you. You were not sure what you should do but decided to stay and continue singing. You did so until the stars came out and sleep slowly took over your body. 

In the haze of sleep, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm.

(I am ignoring my archaeology degree to write this. Like Ridley Scott, inaccuracy is my best friend.)

(Also, no beta reader, just my manic thoughts.)

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

[doggyethic66]

[fawninthesnow]

would you write fics with characters from the first gladiator film?

I would be honored to!! I’ve seen the movie countless times lol. Do you have any requests sweetie?

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

THE COMPLETE COPOLLO MASTERLIST

Desperately looking for fics to satisfy your obsession with the RRverse's most dumpsterfire of a ship? Look no further than this post :3

I have Copollo fics ranging from Ao3, FF.net, and here on tumblr! Each fic will be linked, and if the author has a tumblr (that I know of - if you know their tumblr let me know!), they will be tagged.

Also, before we begin, I would just like to say that when I say every Copollo fic I can find is on this list, I mean all of them. This includes fics that are canon compliant, crack, aus, and those with darker tones. If that isn't your thing, all you have to do is avoid clicking on said fics. They're all organzied very nicely if I do say so myself. Nothing more to it :3

Look below the cut for the list! If you have any fics that slipped between my grabby fingers let me know so I can add them! :3

Roman Empire Era

A Cruel Occasion by @seductivegrapethrowing

Grapes and Blood (German) by Buttons_Buttons (Rated G)

Fairness by mothmansaysgayrights (Rated G)

The Death of Emperor Commodus by LusiaLovegood (Rated G)

Long Life to You by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Call Me Commodus / Today I'll Be Your Ruler / I'll Also Die Here by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Of Broken Promises by @money-and-dandellions (Rated G)

Keeping Warm by @soleil-in-retrograde (I reread the Copollo part of this over and over :3) (Rated T)

vow by @daisy-mooon (Rated T)

my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

Always Told You Not To Love Me (Now Look What You Made Me Do) by anxious_tofu (Rated E)

ghost of mine (you're taking up all my time) by anxious_tofu (Mainly perpollo, but there is Copollo :3) (Rated E)

i’ll break your little heart in two by Anonymous (Rated E)

By me

Death's Embrace (Rated G)

When the Day Met the Night (Rated G)

When Everything's Wrong, You Make It Right (Rated G)

no one can say what we get to be (Rated G)

drunk off that love, it my head up (there's no forgetting you) (Rated G)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand (blood on my shirt, heart in my hand) (Rated T)

Trials of Apollo

Canon Compliant

As Far As I'm Concerned, You're Just Another Picture To Burn by @solahflare

It Isn't Love, It Isn't Hate, It's Just Indifference by @solahflare

A Pity by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

forget - me - not by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated G)

Song of Apollo by @tsarinatorment (For the Copollo crumb within :3) (Rated T)

Fractures of the Mind (Heart) by me :3 (Rated T)

The Devil Within (His Mind) also by me (Rated T)

Chapter 5 of some ToApril drabbles because my head is as empty as Meg's by orphan_account (Rated T)

Divinity, Fire, and Former Lovers by @seapinecone (Rated T)

Aus

All's Fair in Love & War by me (Rated G)

It'll Be Okay by Apollo4612 (Rated Fiction T)

i loved you dangerously (more than the air that i breathe) by @okathleen (Rated T)

i will only break your pretty things by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

i'm a bad liar (with a savior complex) by me (Rated T)

@daisy-mooon

Taunt (Rated G)

Outnumbered (Rated T)

Blindfold (Rated T)

Spark (Rated M)

By ifyouseemetellmetogostudy

and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started (Rated G) (nom nomming)

God of Truth (He Never Knew) (Rated G)

you make this place hell (Rated G)

Humus Ericius Diem (Rated G)

Triumvirate Wins Au by bacchis

to eros, in secrecy

den of the lion (Rated E)

there are a couple more fics in this series if you're interested but only the two above have brief Copollo moments (i will admit this au lives rent-free in my brain)

AUs

Winds of Ruin by me (Rated G)

The Moon Brooch by @trials-of-apollo-my-beloved (Rated G)

Coward by @nyaningthroughlife (Rated T)

Moonrise by me (Rated T)

And historians will call them close friends, besties, murderers of each others’ souls by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated T)

The Human Within The Sun by SassyTrio130 (Rated T)

Veruca by cactusstudy (Rated M)

Hazbin Hotel nonlinear AUs

Stayed Gone by me (Rated T)

Hell Hath No Fury by me (Rated T)

Crack (when i say every fic, I mean every fic)

It's a Fun Time in Commodupolis! by Anonymous (Rated M)

Dark

Nothing Like The Sun by Cola_bubblegum

Day & Night by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash) (Rated E)

TAG LIST: @moodyseal @plastikstarz @hazardous-lightdas12 @worlds-oldest-teenager here it is! :3

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[caracalla-dondus]

Two Caged Birds

Summary: Lucilla and Commodus's wife find comfort in each other

Author's Note: I have only watched the first Gladiator once so I probably have no business writing fanfiction for it but I just love Lucilla too much. This pairing can either be platonic or romantic, it's up to you.

~~~

Lucilla had watched from a distance as the young bride entered the palace, draped in a fine silk tunic and adorned with jewels that Commodus had so eagerly lavished upon her. She was sweet, much too sweet. A gentle thing with wide, trusting eyes and a soft smile that had not yet learned to falter.

Lucilla pitied her.

Commodus had chosen his wife much like a man picks a favored prized pet, one that he could show off the beauty of to others and train it to obey his every command. Truthfully, Lucilla had found herself relieved.

With his attention consumed by his new wife, the leering gazes, the whispered threats, the suffocating obsession he had for Lucilla waned. For the first time in years, she could breathe, if only just a little bit. For the time being, it was one less thing for her to worry about.

Still, she felt the weight of guilt press upon her. Wishing Commodus’s affections on another, even as protection for herself, made her stomach churn. But that was the nature of survival in their world.

At first, she kept her distance, merely observing. Watching how Commodus’s wife would laugh at his every word, clinging to the idea of the man she thought he was. Watching how she would take his hand eagerly, believing herself beloved. Watching how she would come to life under his attention, still too naive to understand the darkness that loomed just beside her. Lucilla was sure her brother loved his wife in his own way, but Commodus's love always came with a price. His love was a heavy burden for anyone to bear.

Lucilla was certain that the girl's innocence would not last. It never did. Lucilla knew that better than anyone.

One evening, Lucilla found the girl standing alone in the palace gardens, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, clutching her stola as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world while she trembled in the cool night air. Lucilla approached quietly, and when her brother’s wife turned, her eyes were red-rimmed, though she quickly looked away, forcing a smile.

“Apologies. I didn’t hear you approach,” she murmured quietly.

Lucilla said nothing at first, only stepping closer, watching the way the girl tensed, then forced herself to relax.

“He frightened you.” It was not a question.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, lowering her gaze. “Commodus can be…temperamental.”

Lucilla scoffed softly. “That is a generous word for him.”

Silence stretched between them, the night air heavy with things unsaid. Then cautiously, Commodus’s wife asked, “Has he always been this way?”

Lucilla exhaled, tilting her head as she studied the young woman before her. She was so unlike Lucilla, so untouched by the cruelty of their world. At least, she had been.

“Yes,” Lucilla admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “He used to have better moments more often, but yes he was always this way.”

The girl said nothing for a moment, her fingers tightening around the silk of her stola. Then, she nodded, as if she had expected that answer, yet still hoped for another.

Lucilla hesitated, then reached out, gently placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She flinched at first but did not pull away.

“You are not alone,” Lucilla told her, a rare softness in her voice. “If you ever need…” She trailed off, but she did not need to finish. The girl understood.

From that night forward, they found solace in each other’s company.

It began with whispered conversations in the gardens, stolen moments in the quiet corners of the palace where Commodus’s presence did not loom over them. Lucilla would distract her with stories of her childhood, of entertaining things Lucius had done recently, of Commodus before he truly took a turn for the worse, of Rome before Commodus’s rule, of the father she and Commodus had both lost in different ways. In return, Commodus’s wife spoke of things Lucilla had nearly forgotten. Of beauty, of kindness, of love. The gentle girl had never known pain of any sort until now. Not truly. She had been raised in the warmth of wealth and comfort, adored by her family, and once thought herself to be cherished as a bride. Now she was being confronted with the harsh reality that is their world and yet she still tries to hold onto some kind of hope. Lucilla didn’t know if it was admirable or too naive of her to still hold onto such sweet fantasies.

When the nights were particularly bad, when Commodus’s temper burned too hot, when his cruelty left invisible wounds, Lucilla would find her, wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders, whispering reassurances that neither of them were quite sure they believed.

They never spoke of it. The bruises that never fully bloomed, the distant look in the young woman’s eyes when Commodus paraded her before the court. The hope and idealism that was slowly leaving the girl. They did not need to.

One evening, as they sat together in Lucilla’s chambers, the flickering candlelight casting warm shadows across their faces, Commodus’s wife turned to her suddenly, her gloomy eyes searching.

“I feel like I am slowly drowning here,” she whispered.

Lucilla reached for her hand, clasping it tightly. “Then I will hold you above the water.”

A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek, and without thinking, Lucilla reached up, brushing it away. Her fingers lingered for a moment, and something shifted between them. A silent understanding. A tether pulling them closer.

Lucilla should have pulled away. She did not.

That night, when the shadows snuck their way in and the world grew quiet, they clung to each other, not as Commodus’s sister and wife, but as two caged birds longing for freedom.

Neither spoke of what it meant. Perhaps it was not love, not in the way poets described. But it was something, and in the cruel world they lived in, it was enough.