#death consul | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missadangel · 30 days ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XXIII. Farewell (Smut!18+!MDNI)

“Prope quaere amicum, propius hostem”

Seek your friend near, your enemy closer.

When you arrived at Palatine Hill with Marcus, you noticed that Geta's imperial carriage had already arrived. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, Commander Darius recognized you and approached. He informed Marcus that Julia and Geta were already in the great hall, clearly aware of the plan as well.

As you made your way toward the hall, Marcus and you heard voices coming from inside. He muttered, “Your Aunt Antonia must be here already.” He then quickened his pace.

“Why would she come here?” you asked.

Marcus glanced at you as the guards opened the door. “You'll find out soon enough, my lady. Don’t tire yourself; I’ll handle the talking,” he said, stepping in ahead of you.

As you entered, everyone turned to look at you. It was clear that Geta and his mother were in the middle of an argument. Your aunt was standing on the right side of the hall, with two members of the Senate. After exchanging a glance with Marcus, she looked at you and smiled, but you couldn't smile back; the tension in the hall was palpable, making it impossible not to feel it.

“You!” Julia pointed her finger at Marcus, her anger palpable. “You all played a game against me! How dare you!” Then she turned to you, her body trembling with rage. “It’s all your fault!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. In a swift motion, she grabbed the sword from the waist of one of the guards beside her. The guard was taken by surprise; perhaps it was Julia’s authority as empress that caused him to hesitate for that brief moment. But by then, it was too late for him to realize he had made a mistake.

Yes, it was a mistake that he allowed her to easily draw his sword from his belt while she attempted to attack you with it. However, this action was absurd and futile, especially considering that Marcus was standing right next to you. Before you could even react to Julia’s clumsy attack, Marcus quickly grabbed your wrist, pulled you behind him, and stood in front of you as a shield. Meanwhile, Geta firmly grabbed her mother by the arm and shook her until she dropped the sword.

“What do you think you’re doing? How far are you going to go? Are you really my mother? Look at you! I can’t even recognize you! You’ve lost it!” Geta roared.

“Can’t you see they set me up? And all because of this girl!” She pointed a finger at you, and you reacted by rolling your eyes.

“Enough!” Geta shouted, enraged.

Your aunt Antonia looked at you and Marcus, then breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Julia. "You speak as if we were holding you responsible for something you didn't do, Lady Domna. Did you think you wouldn't be held accountable for your actions? Your day of judgement has come; you can no longer escape justice. You will pay for what you have done. All of Rome will know what you have done to my sister, and your reputation will be ruined.”

For some reason, you found a strange satisfaction in the desperation in Julia’s gaze as she glanced at the council members beside her. After all, she deserved it.

Antonia continued, addressing the council members. “Your Majesty, the consuls, who are close friends of your father, are here to testify about your mother’s involvement in the death of my sister, Empress Marciana.”

"Tell me everything; I want to know it all,” Geta said, casting you an evasive look. It was clear that he was very upset about the terrible actions his mother had taken. One by one, the consuls recounted what Julia had done. Hearing the details again made your chest tighten, and your legs trembled. If Marcus hadn't been holding your hand, you might have collapsed. After absorbing what had happened, Geta looked at his mother with a disgusted expression and declared her crimes, pronouncing judgment on her. As a result, Julia was sentenced to exile. You witnessed your aunt’s face as Julia was forced out of the hall by the guards, despite her protests and shouts, and you realized that she was enjoying it. Yes, Julia certainly deserved the punishment, but you couldn't bring yourself to smile with joy at her plight; it felt wrong, especially when Geta appeared so sad.

As Antonia and the council members left the hall, Marcus approached Geta.

“Emperor Geta, I know this might not seem like the perfect moment, but there’s a crucial matter we must discuss—something you need to know.”

Geta frowned as he handed him the message from Elagabalus.

“I’ll be outside,” you said, glancing at the two of them.

“You don’t have to leave, sister. You can stay-”

“With your permission, Your Majesty, I need to speak to my aunt alone.”

He nodded with a smile and began reading the message. You exchanged a look with Marcus, then turned and left the hall, leaving the two of them alone.

Your aunt was outside, talking to two Senate members, and she looked quite pleased. You approached them, “Could you please leave us alone?” You fixed your gaze on them, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with everyone who knew the truth about your mother’s death and had kept it hidden from you all this time.

"Aurelia, my beautiful niece," Antonia said, smiling at you. "I told you we would get rid of Julia, and now we have as I promised. That whore finally got what she deserved.”

"I wish you had told me about the plan; maybe I could have helped." You said, you were curious about her response, but you had a feeling you already knew what she would say. Her answer confirmed your guess.

"You might be right, but your husband, General Acacius, wanted to keep you out of it. He is very protective of you, dear."

"He is indeed.” You nodded. “But I don't think he was pleased when you told him about your plan."

"You're right; he didn't like it, but he also wanted to get rid of Julia. After all, she posed a threat to his own son—and to you, my dear.”

“It’s not hard to imagine how you convinced him. But what if the plan hadn’t worked? What if Geta was someone who didn’t trust Acacius? Have you ever considered what could have happened to my husband then?”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I understand your concern, but he values and respects Acacius. Besides, I’m sure he would never do anything to upset you.”

You sighed. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it? You wanted me involved in the plan because you wanted to use his feelings for me to your advantage.”

A confident expression appeared on her face. “If you had gone to Geta and told him everything, he would have believed you, and everything would have been easier. But I knew you wouldn’t do that because I can see that you care about him too. That left me with no choice but to make this plan.”

“You don’t care, do you? Not about Geta’s disappointment, his sadness, or even the danger Acacius has put himself in. All you wanted was Julia.”

“That’s true, and I won’t deny it. Aurelia, all I care about is you and Marcius. Your brother is not someone I will concern myself with, and your husband is a good soldier; he can take care of himself.”

“But he’s the only one I truly care about. Look, you’re my aunt, and I care for you like a mother, but I don’t want you to involve my husband in any dangerous plans without my knowledge again. He’s more precious to me than anyone else, and I’m just as protective of him as he is of me. Please understand that."

Antonia nodded, but her expression was not very pleased.

You soon noticed Nerissa approaching you, accompanied by several slaves. One of them was cradling her son in her arms. You looked at him and smiled.

“My Empress,” you greeted her, and she returned your smile, though it was short-lived. “How is my little dove?”

You reached out your hands to take the baby from the slave, but she hesitated. It quickly became clear why; she was waiting for Nerissa's approval. After glancing at her, she nodded, and she handed the child to you. You cradled him in your arms and gently stroked his blonde hair. “Is Geta still insisting on not naming him yet?” you asked.

"Hopefully he will soon; it's just not the right time yet. We don't have much alone time, you know. His Majesty has been very busy lately." There was something unsettling in her tone. "By the way, could you tell me what happened to Lady Domna? I'm sure you know why the guards were taking her away, since you're here.”

You kissed your nephew on the head, noticing that he had fallen asleep in your arms. “Geta will tell you all about it; don’t worry about that.”

“I doubt he'll tell me,” she replied, holding out her hands to you. Reluctantly, you handed your nephew over to her mother, wishing you could keep him a little longer. After taking him, she returned him to the slaves and gestured for them to leave. Once she was sure it was just the two of you, she approached you, her expression more serious than you had ever seen before.

“Aurelia, don’t you think you visit him too often these days?”

What was that supposed to mean? I had only seen him once or twice since the wedding.

“I’m not sure how you mean.”

“Let me be absolutely clear. I do not want to see you here. I insist that you refrain from coming unless it is a serious or important matter. This is not good for him, and I am determined to ensure that my marriage remains intact. You understand what I mean, do you not?”

“Nerissa, why are you—”

She interrupted, rolling her eyes."Gods above, Aurelia, don't pretend you don't know how he feels about you. I'm not naive, I can see everything.""Nerissa, I..." You gave a troubled sigh. "Look, he'll realise he's making a mistake eventually. He'll notice your love. You need to be patient and—"

She shook her head. "But that's not going to happen if you're always around him. Help me. Stay away from him. Please.”

She took your hand and looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, Aurelia.”

Although you were upset, you nodded in response. She quickly pulled her hand back at the sound of approaching footsteps. Marcus was coming toward you, accompanied by Darius. You cast a furtive glance at him, and Nerissa turned away. They both bowed to her as she walked into the great hall. You could sense Marcus's curious gaze upon you, so you took a moment to gather yourself and smiled at him.

“My lady, are you ready to leave now?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes, General, let’s take our leave, please.”

Darius bowed his head as he departed.

Marcus leaned closer and asked, “Are you not feeling well?”

You took his arm and gently rubbed it with your hand. “It's been a long day. I want to go home and rest.”

He nodded. “Let’s leave then.”

Eight months later.

With each passing day and every fleeting month, your belly swelled and rounded. The gentle kicks and fluttering movements reminded you of the warmth of the little one nestled inside, growing, and so did your son, Marcius. At first, he learned how to sit, then he managed to crawl on the floor, then he managed to stand by holding onto the furniture around him. One day, he finally took his first step toward his father, who was sitting at his desk, smiling widely in return and cheering for him.

His first words also came out slowly during this time. When he called you "mother" for the first time, he may have spoken inaccurately since it sounded like “ma-ma” and probably not consciously, but it was enough to bring you to tears. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you knew it was a moment you would never forget.

When Marcus was at home, he would hold his little hand and take him on fun walks around the villa. They’d often head over to the stables to check out the horses, their shiny coats glimmering in the sun. Those times together were the absolute best, filled with laughter as he soaked up every moment with his son.

The little one, who had nearly all his teeth, seemed to enjoy every bite of food and every morsel. Watching him grow was a real joy, like waking up to a new happiness each day. The villa, which had been quiet, was now full of life. It was alive with giggles and the delightful sounds of a growing child, transforming the space into a vibrant home filled with love and bliss.

As time went on, Marcus found himself extremely busy implementing extensive measures against a potential threat. His diligent efforts succeeded in persuading some of Elagabalus' allies to withdraw their support; however, the threat had not yet been fully neutralized. Consequently, Marcus decided to collaborate with his legates to devise a strategic plan aimed at permanently eliminating the threat. The possibility of war became increasingly apparent and eventually seemed inevitable. After a period of tranquility, a series of disturbing events began to unfold. Elagabalus, with the support of the Carthaginians, re-established alliances with the Gauls to strengthen his position and ultimately succeeded in seizing the southern region, targeting Numidia.

Two months later, following a rebellion in the region, news arrived of the execution of the Roman governor. The Numidians officially recognized Elagabalus as emperor. Unfortunately, this was not the worst of the news; the most troubling information came from the southern legions. All the southern legions, including Marcus' legion, were neutralized, forced into submission.

Marcus was devastated by this news, hardly eating or drinking for two days. You were very concerned for him. With your significant support, he ultimately began to feel better and regained his composure. Subsequently, he proceeded to develop a comprehensive action strategy without delay. He began to visit Palatine Hill and the Fields of Mars nearly every day, often staying until late at night. The situation was more serious than anyone had realized, and if immediate action was not taken, the consequences for Rome could be irreversible.

At that time, news came from Palatine Hill about Geta, who had been poisoned. Marcus spoke with Commander Darius about Geta's condition, recalling similar incidents in the past. They decided to collaborate on a solution before word of this reached the public. You were deeply concerned about Geta and wanted to go and see him, cure him. However, your growing belly and frequent cramps made it difficult for you to do so. Besides, Marcus did not want you to go anywhere after what happened during your last childbirth.

So, you decided to summon Hanno for his healing. Marcus agreed and took him to Palatine Hill himself, knowing that Hanno was better than all the medicii in the palace.

It soon became clear that the poisoning was caused by a fish dish that Geta had eaten, leading to a collective sigh of relief as it was confirmed that the incident was unintentional.

However, everyone involved in cooking and preparing the food was still punished.

You decided to visit Geta because you felt uneasy and were still haunted by Nerissa's recent behavior towards you. She had become a completely different person now, and trust was no longer in the equation. You wanted to believe you were mistaken—maybe you were exaggerating—but deep down, you knew you couldn’t be certain. You recognized that you had a great opportunity to pursue something you had been considering.

You visited him and spoke with Geta about Hanno and asked him to stay in the palace as a medicus. Geta agreed, especially because Hanno was the one who had healed him. However, Hanno initially resisted the idea. When you reminded him that Vicius had once served as a medicus there, he found it hard to refuse and ultimately agreed as well. This duty was perfect for Hanno, as you wanted to ensure he wouldn't be involved in anything that could endanger his life further.

Moreover, you sought to have Hanno at the palace to oversee the well-being of Geta and your nephew, as he would serve as a reliable source of information regarding any potential threats or concerns. Although Marcus was not entirely keen on the idea, he admitted that he was surprised and even looked proud as he complimented you on your intelligence.

It was also during this time that Decima and Octavius were married in a joyous ceremony held in your villa. Decima often came to the villa during the day to see you and Marcius, as her husband had been as busy as yours of late. She was happy to be married, and you were happy to see her so. After that week, the midwife came to examine you and told you that you might go into labour in a fortnight. She was almost sure it would be a girl this time. You didn't like her smug talk, but you felt like you were going to have a daughter, too.

However, it was Marcus who was the happiest about this news.

On a night when the moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow that illuminated everything below. You woke up in the quiet, feeling hungry. This discomfort had become a familiar companion, echoing the restless nights that had plagued you of late. Shadows danced across the walls as you blinked your eyes, unable to sleep.

Each night was filled with interruptions. Sometimes, it was the urgent call of nature that pulled you from your sleep; other times, it was the gnawing hunger in your stomach demanding attention. And then there was Marcius, whose cries served as an unmistakable reminder of his needs. Because of this, you often found yourself sleeping during the daylight hours.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking against the dim glow of the bluish moonlight cascading through the window, filtering softly between the curtains. The light flickered blissfully on the ends of Marcus's curls, creating a halo around his sleeping form, while the shadows obscured the details of his face. You could still make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a reassuring rhythm in the tranquil stillness of the night. You sighed, admiring his charm. You could watch him sleeping like that forever.

A sudden heavy pressure stirred deep within your stomach, soon morphing into an overwhelming wave of hunger that washed over you like a tide. With great effort, you propped yourself up in bed, carefully pushing aside one of the pillows that Marcus had arranged under your arm for comfort. Each movement felt cumbersome, the weight of your large belly making even the simplest gestures a challenge. As a sharp cramp seized your stomach, you let out a soft moan, the sound barely escaping your lips. The sound roused Marcus, who, ever the light sleeper, opened his eyes in an instant, concern etching itself across his face.

"My love?’"

"Oh, apologies, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Do you have to go to the latrina again?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep, eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted to the dimness.

"No, not this time, I...’"

He sat up, the sheets slipping down to his waist, and placed a warm hand on your back, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. "What’s wrong, Aurelia?"

"I can't sleep because I'm hungry," you confessed, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with shyness. It felt strange to mention, especially since it had only been a few hours since dinner.

Marcus chuckled softly. "You're saying that like you’ve committed a crime." He bent down and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. His masculine scent gave you butterflies in your stomach, but your hunger outweighed your desire. "I’ll get something for you. What does my beautiful wife want to eat?’"

You shrugged pursing your lips. "It doesn’t matter; I just need to fill my stomach."

He grinned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, I’ll bring you whatever I can find."

As he approached the door, you whispered softly to avoid waking Marcius. "Marcus."

He paused, turning back to look at you.

"Can you get some figs too? I’m craving them."

His laughter rang out like music in the quiet night. "Whatever you wish, my princess.”

Not long afterwards Marcus returned to the room with a tray full of food. You reacted to him by clapping your hands gleefully. "You're the best husband; I am a very fortunate woman indeed."

He sat down beside you and kissed your cheek. "You can't be more fortunate than I am," he replied.

As you enjoyed your meal, he sat beside you, peeled the figs, and placed them in front of you for you to eat. In just a few minutes, you had nearly finished everything on the tray, while Marcus observed you with curiosity and with a smile on his face. Suddenly, you felt a wave of embarrassment. "I ate like a savage, not like a lady, didn't I?”

"And I’m sure I don’t look beautiful like this," you said, teasing him.

You expected him to laugh in response, but instead, his gaze deepened, filled with something more intense. He gently brushed the sticky honey from the corner of your lip with his thumb, an intimate gesture that sent a thrill through you. "On the contrary," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, "I find you even more beautiful like this. You possess a beauty that transcends appearances—one that enchants me in any form.”

You were captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes, and time seemed to stand still as you gazed into their depths. In that moment, the spoon slipped from your grasp, and a golden stream of honey cascaded down onto your upper sternum, gleaming in the soft light. Marcus let out a soft, playful chuckle, his voice a warm whisper that sent shivers down your spine as he leaned closer. The heat of his breath enveloped you, tantalizingly brushing against the delicate skin above your breasts. With deliberate intention, he traced his warm tongue over the honey that had dripped, the sensation igniting a rush of warmth that made your heartbeat quicken and your breathing deepen.

When he pulled away, he grinned and licked his lips. “Mmm, sweet, but nothing compares to the taste of you.” He said, pulling you closer and kissing you. When your tongues touched, you moaned as you could taste the honey on his saliva. You tossed the spoon onto the tray and wrapped your arms around his neck, fully immersing yourself in his embrace. You wondered if he was aware of his own masculine scent and the incredible taste he possessed. Kissing him was so pleasurable that it induced a state of dizzying bliss, as if time itself were slowing down while you explored the depths of his mouth. As your tongue delicately traced the contours of his, he responded with a deep, resonant growl, his hands firmly cradling your hips. Your legs were on either side of him now and you were practically astride him. Your big belly was getting in the way a bit, preventing you from wrapping him completely. But Marcus didn't mind; he wanted you naked and grinding on him straight away, in the most convenient way. He realized he should have approached the moment with more tenderness, yet the intense waves of desire washed over him, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In that instant, he made a decision about perfect position to take you. He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, his dark brown eyes burning you to the core.

“What is it?” you gasped, your eyes dazzled, your hair a chaotic tangle, partly obscuring your face.

He took your hands, leaned back on the bed, and pulled you down on top of him.

“Lift the hem of your tunic,” he said, his tone almost commanding.

You hesitated for just a moment before you started to gather the fabric.

“Show me,” he urged, breathing heavily.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Bring it up here.” He licked his lips, and heat flooded your face.

"Um..."

“Come and sit on my face, Aurelia.” He sounded impatient.

“But Marcus,” You murmured, but he was past caring.

“Now,” he rumbled deep in his chest.

"Impatient, I see," you giggled. As you lifted the skirts of your tunic, leaving yourself completely exposed from the waist down, he quickly got out of his own clothes and lay back down, even more eager and impatient than before. The dull, almost painful throb of his length needed relief. He took himself in hand and groaned as you parted your knees and showed him your pretty slit.

“Perfect,” he whispered as if he saw for the first time.

Actually, the thing is he couldn't find an oppurtunity to get inside you because he had been incredibly busy for a few days. And that was the only thing he craved right now. “So beautiful.” And it was. So perfect and beautiful that he had to take a deep breath for an instant or he would have released at just the sight of you. He slid his hand up his throbbing shaft and squeezed the tip hard. He didn’t want to spend himself on the sheets, he wanted to release deep inside you, inside his wife.

“Marcus?”

“Darling wife, have mercy and give me your sweet taste,” he groaned earthily.

You whimpered as one of his hands grabbed your hip roughly to urge you over his chest. “What if you can't breathe?" you said, noticing it was a very silly thing to say as you bit your lip. “As you can see, I've gained some weight, and—oh!"

"Then I’ll die very happy," he snarled, moaning against your slippery cunt. You tasted so good. He cursed everything that prevented him from tasting you for days.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He dragged his tongue between your slick folds and over your pretty pearl, again and again, delving into your tight sheathe in a tease that had his cock twitching in anticipation. Your wetness maddened him. He held your hips tight as he licked and sucked your cunt, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper. He often whispered how much he loved the sweet, heady taste of you and your cheeks still burned as if you were hearing it for the first time. As you watched the slickness run down his cheeks and glisten on his beard, your shame turned to desire and your skin felt like it was on fire. You moaned as he thrust two fingers inside you, feeling the pressure of his signet ring. It was too much and not enough, the feeling you never wanted to end. You instinctively bent down and grabbed the roots of his hair as his tongue tormented you.

Soon, you found your release, screaming his name as you came. He still hadn’t had his fill when he heard your wail and felt your convulsing around his swirling tongue. Slick gushed from between your cunt, the sheer sensation of it taking your breath away.

He pulled his soaking fingers from you and licked them clean. "My lovely princess," Marcus murmured, his lips red and slightly swollen from his rapt attention to your cunt.

He crawled up and made you sit on his lap, making you wrap your legs around him.

He grinned at your big belly. "Will you be comfortable if I take you like this?" He asked softly, drawing kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, and your plump lips, while his fingers gripped the straps of your tunic tightly and pulled the fabric down your shoulders.

You nodded while tasting yourself as his tongue slipped between your lips, tangling with your own. He held you close as he rolled onto his back and positioned you above him. You were wet enough to straddle him, rubbing yourself against his length, making him groan. You had to stifle your own scream, remembering you were not alone in the room as you pressed yourself against him. You liked to ride him a lot, enjoying how his hands supported your hips and how deep his cock felt inside your walls.

He was too, enjoying a lot as he rocked his hips against yours, feeling as if he was much younger than he was. There were almost two decades between you, his hair showing silver streaks that marked his age as just over forty, while you were only two years past girlhood. He was so eager and strong in making love to you that his age was no obstacle to him. That was something that would never tire him out, not ever. Yet, he often found himself wishing that he had crossed paths with you during his younger years. For him, every single day without your presence, even those from the past, was nothing but wasted.

Even now, when you were on top of him and he was thrusting himself deeper and deeper into you, kneading your breasts possessively, you could see it in his movements. There was no need for words; his brown eyes revealed his thoughts and emotions with every glance, which only you could truly understand. It wasn’t surprising that his feelings mirrored your own. You were both aware that this could be the last time you shared such intimacy, especially considering the imminent arrival of your second child. As you came together, your pleasure intertwined, and soon you found yourself savouring the last traces of your pleasure when, suddenly, your womb convulsed, and Marcus caught you with a firm grip, preventing you from slumping onto the bed. He sighed as he placed his palm on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart beneath his hand. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and adjusted the pillow under your neck for your comfort. As he spread the sheet over you, he noticed soft movement on your belly, a tender reminder of the life within. He placed his warm hand above your tummy, his touch soothing as he began to speak softly to the little one growing inside you. Gradually, you felt a wave of fatigue wash over you, and with each soothing word of his, you surrendered to the gentle pull of sleep, lulled by the serenity of his presence and the rhythm of his voice.

The next day, Cato arrived at the villa early to deliver news, and Marcus left without even having breakfast. Marcius reacted to his father's departure by crying, so you took him to the stables to calm him down. He had been behaving this way lately; he loved spending time with his father and seemed so happy when they were together. However, whenever his father left the house, he would start to cry. You kept telling him that one day, when he was older, he could go outside with his dad, but he was too young to understand that yet. When his father returned home in the evening, holding him in his arms, Marcius was the happiest he could be. It was heartwarming to see them together like that.

In the afternoon, you sent someone to Palatine Hill to fetch Hanno. You needed to speak with him to find out how Geta was doing. With the birth approaching, you didn't want to leave the house, especially since Nerissa preferred you to stay inside. You had only seen Geta a few times after Julia's funeral, and the last time you spoke with him about Hanno was almost a month ago. He hadn't looked well during that conversation, and you often found yourself worrying about him.

As you were feeding Marcius some fruit, you heard a horse neighing outside, and soon after, Hanno appeared in the courtyard. He smiled as he looked at you and Marcius.

“Hanno, or should I call you Lucius now?” you asked.

He grinned. “I still can't get used to that name.”

You pointed to the lectus and gestured for him to sit. “You’re a Roman citizen now; you should get used to it.”

He took his bag off his shoulder, sat down across from you, and sighed. “It still feels like a joke,” he said, waving his hand at Marcius.

“You've grown a lot since I've seen you, little man,” you replied.

Marcius mumbled something and handed Hanno a grape. Lucius smiled at him as he put the grape in his mouth and chewed it. Marcius clapped, and you joined in the laughter.

“He likes you,” you said.

Lucius reached out, picked him up, and sat him on his lap. “I like him too.” He then looked at your belly. “How do you feel?”

“I'm fine; I'm just having trouble sleeping.”

“What does the midwife say? Is everything going well?”

‘Nothing to worry about. “We’re just waiting now; let’s hope Marcius’ brother or sister arrives soon.”

Lucius opened his bag and took out a wooden carved toy horse, giving it to Marcius. “Here, little friend. I made this for you.”

Marcius seemed happy as he held the wooden toy.

You smiled at him. “That’s very nice, Lucius. Thank you.” You turned Marcius, softly rubbing his head. “Did you like it, my beautiful boy?”He showed the toy, murmured something, and repeatedly bumped it against the floor while playing in his own way.

Lucius reached back into his bag. “Your brother Geta wanted me to give this to you. He said it’s for Marcius.” He held out something wrapped in cloth, and as he handed it to you, a soft tinkling sound emerged from within. You unwrapped the cloth and discovered a pair of gold bracelets along with a note.

“These bracelets were the first gifts my father, Septimius Severus, bestowed upon me. I am passing them on to my nephew, so he can wear them as he grows into a remarkable young man.”

You took a moment to reflect as you examined the bracelets. They exhibited a level of elegance and were embellished with meticulous craftsmanship that is typically reserved for members of royalty, particularly a prince.

Lucius leaned toward you.

“Are you alright?”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he asked. You nodded as you wiped away your tears. “I just realized I miss Geta; it’s been a long time. Is he doing well?”

He looked away.

“Has something happened to him?” You suddenly noticed you were short of breath, which had been happening a lot lately.

"Calm down, Aurelia. He is well. He has been getting tired recently, and there have been a lot of consuls coming and going from the palace. I saw them arguing with the empress the other day."

"Why were they arguing?"

"I'm not certain, but there are a lot of rumors about them. Slaves love gossip."

"What rumors?"

“Nonsense, don't worry about it right now.”

“Please, tell me.”

He huffed in response. “They claim they don’t sleep in the same room, you know. It’s probably a lie—just stupid gossip.”

You wondered why Nerissa would treat Geta that way.

“What about my nephew?”

“He's fine, don’t worry. He seems to be getting ready to take his first step, but he’s not as eager as Marcius,” he said, stroking her head.

“I miss him so much,” you said, pursing your lips.

“Please be patient a little longer. Do not attempt to go anywhere in this situation.”

“That’s why I sent for you,” you replied, laughing at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m a fighter, a medicus, or your informant anymore.”

You squinted at him. “Or, are you unhappy serving your princess?”

He grinned. “Not at all, your highness. But now that I’m free, I say I...”

“What is it?”

"I want to return to Alexandria," he said in a low tone.

You felt a tightness in your chest. "What? But why? Aren't you happy here?"

"I am, but they say the whole southern region is about to erupt in chaos soon, and there’s someone I need to see. I have to show her that I’m still alive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Her? Someone special, I suppose?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, breaking into a shy laugh. "You could say that."

"I see. It's your decision, after all. You're a free man now."You smiled at him faintly, even though your heart felt heavy.

But then, an unexpected sharp pain sliced through your lower abdomen. A contraction gripped you, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Aurelia?" Concern laced his voice.

"Just a contraction," you managed to say between gasps, your breaths coming quicker as you closed your eyes tightly, willing the pain to pass. Yet, to your dismay, a sharper wave of agony crashed over you.

Norell saw you from a distance and rushed toward you. “Domina! My lady!”

It didn't take long for you to realize what was happening as the contractions became stronger and closer together, now even intensified. "The baby's coming," you said with a troubled grin.

Lucius took your other hand. "Are you certain?"

You nodded. "I'm absolutely certain, Lucius!" you shouted, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction struck, sending incredible pain through you. You looked at him with urgency.

"Get the midwife in here!"

The other slaves exchanged worried glances, but then they hurried off towards the quarters where the midwife was staying.

“Can you make it up the stairs, my lady?” one of them asked, eyes wide with concern. You groaned loudly, the sound reverberating through the room as you steadied yourself to stand. “I think I can,” you replied through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength within you. In a swift and decisive movement, Lucius scooped you into his arms, lifting you and carrying you up the stairs.

“You stay with Marcius here!” you shouted to Norell, who nodded in response. You forced a warm smile at Marcius who gazed at you with curious wide eyes, his little brow furrowed with concern.

When Lucius entered the room, he laid you on the bed and propped up several pillows behind you. Moments later, two slaves entered alongside the midwife, their expressions a mix of determination and concern. Then Tullia rushed in, her breath coming in quick, anxious bursts. “My lady!”

“Tullia! I need you to summon my husband immediately!” you commanded.

“I will tell them now, my lady,” Tullia replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But it may take some time before the general arrives; he mentioned he would be at the barracks.”

“I'll go and fetch him,” Lucius said, his demeanor reassuring. “You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else, alright?”

You reached for his hand, held it tightly. “Thank you, Lucius.”

He smiled at you before leaving room.

The midwife bent down to examine you and asked for permission before lifting your skirts.

“Labour has begun, my lady. We must get ready at once.” She looked at the slaves. “Prepare hot water and clean cloths immediately!”

The slaves scurried from the room, their footsteps echoing as they hurried to fulfill her commands, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second.

“I can’t do this without my husband,” you whimpered. “I need him to be by my side.”

“But I’m afraid the baby can’t wait much longer,” the midwife replied gently, her voice like a soft balm against your fraying nerves. You nodded, swallowing your worry as you desperately wished for Lucius to bring Marcus with him soon.

The soldiers on guard at the imposing entrance gate of the barracks stood alert as they caught sight of a horse and its rider approaching. One of them raised his spear high, the metal glinting in the sun, and shouted, “Halt! Stop right there!”

Lucius expertly pulled on the reins, and the horse reared up, its legs striking the air as he steadied himself. The soldiers scrutinized him intently, their eyes narrowing as they took in his dusty cloak and determined expression.

“No civilians allowed here! Turn back now!” one soldier barked, his voice harsh and commanding.

Lucius met their gazes defiantly, his eyes ablaze with urgency. “I need to see General Acacius! This is important!”

“Are you deaf?” the first soldier snapped back, annoyance creeping into his tone.

The second soldier, sensing the tension, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder to calm him. “Tell us what you need to say; we’ll deliver the message to the general,” he suggested, his voice slightly softer but still firm.

Lucius shifted his mount, turning slightly towards the sturdy wooden doors of the barracks. He refused to dismount, his resolve unwavering despite the soldiers’ barriers. Every second felt precious.

“It’s urgent!” he declared, frustration lacing his words. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

At that moment, a commanding voice echoed from inside the barracks, issuing the order to swing open the heavy iron gate. The soldiers, clad in shining armor that reflected the afternoon sun, moved purposefully toward the entrance. Centurion Verus and a man who Lucius didn't recognise came outside. They were deeply engrossed in hushed whispers, so preoccupied with their conversation that they failed to notice Lucius standing nearby.

“Make sure Acacius doesn’t find out,” Verus murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "That man is exceptionally clever, which makes me uneasy."

“Don’t worry, sir; everything is going as we discussed,” the other man assured him.

Suddenly, Verus's sharp gaze locked onto Lucius, his body tensing. “What are you looking at?” he snapped, his voice laced with an edge of hostility.

Lucius turned his eyes away; he didn't care about their conversation at all. All he wanted was to reach Acacius, no matter what. Other soldiers brought their horses forward, and Verus and his companion glanced at Lucius before spurring their horses into a rush, dust swirling around their departing figures.

"General Acacius!" Lucius' booming voice through the gate enraged the soldiers.

"How dare you shout like that?"

"I'll cut out that tongue of yours!"

It wasn't the general himself, but someone whom Lucius recognized with relief.

“What is going on here? What is this disgrace?” Octavius barked, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his face as he recognized Lucius. “What brings you here?”

“Sir, he insists that he must see the general—”

“Octavius, this is urgent! The general needs to come with me to the villa immediately!”

The soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock as Lucius addressed the general's right-hand man by name. They were further taken aback when Octavius, instead of erupting in anger, maintained an air of smug indifference.

“General Acacius is quite busy at the moment. Just tell me what it is,” Octavius replied, dismissively waving a hand.

Lucius, frustration etched across his face, could no longer contain himself. With a low curse, he dismounted his horse and strode purposefully toward Octavius.

“Aurelia. Lady Aurelia is in labor and has sent for her husband,” he said, lowering his voice and raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Octavius's entire demeanor shifted at that moment; he went from appearing brave to displaying a sense of urgency as he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Acacius.

The sun was setting as Marcus, Octavius, and Lucius arrived at the villa. While another day came to an end in the city, a new life was about to begin in the villa.

Marcus dismounted from his horse with a rush of excitement, his feet pounding against the cobblestone courtyard as he hurried forward. The urgency of his steps left Octavius and Lucius struggling to keep pace, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

Entering the villa, Marcus was immediately met with the startling sound of your anguished cries emanating from upstairs. His heart seized with apprehension, compelling him to dash towards the stairs. Just then, a shrill, yet joyous, baby cry echoed through the corridors, freezing him in his tracks. A broad smile broke across his face as he turned to share this precious moment with Octavius and Lucius, who mirrored his elation.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marcus raced up the stairs. Bursting into the room, his eyes were drawn to a vision of beauty: a delicate infant cradled in Norell's arms. The soft glow of the dim light highlighted her velvety pink skin and wisps of golden hair that fluttered gently around her tiny head, leaving him utterly mesmerized.

“It’s a girl, General,” Norell announced with a note of triumph in her voice.

A wave of emotion washed over Marcus as he contemplated her words. “A girl,” he thought, his gaze locked on the enchanting child. “A very beautiful girl, just like her mother...” He felt warmth fill his heart, knowing their family was blossoming once more.

Her mother...

He longed to see you before cradling the newborn, but his heart nearly seized as he caught sight of your closed eyes and the deep concern appeared on the midwife's face. “What’s happening? Why are her eyes closed?” he demanded, a frown shadowing his brow as he noticed the blood-soaked cloths clinging to your body while he hurried towards you.

“General, it was a very difficult labor,” the midwife replied, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. “She lost a lot of blood and must be utterly exhausted.” As Marcus pushed the damp hair from your forehead, the beads of sweat cascading down your face, he called your name softly. But when you remained unresponsive, his concern transformed into palpable desperation.

“She’s not herself! Do something!” His voice erupted, a roar of anguish that reverberated through the room. The midwife touched your cheek with tentative fingers, her heart racing as she swallowed hard.

“My lady!”

Suddenly, the joyful atmosphere in the room shifted to one of concern. Upon hearing the sounds, Lucius hurried upstairs and appeared in the doorway. Marcus looked at him urgently, “Do something, please!”

Lucius quickly approached, opening his bag to retrieve several vials and some cloth. The midwife and the others watched him anxiously, including Norell, who appeared at the door, cradling Marcius in her arms.

Marcus sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, gripping your hand with a fierce intensity that reflected the crushing weight of his helplessness. The world around him blurred, leaving only your still form in focus, and his heart felt as if it were being wrenched apart. “No... Aurelia, please... my love... please...” he whispered, his voice thick with despair; your motionless figure was like a dagger to his soul.

Lucius was taken aback by Marcus's sorrow. In his past as a medic, he had witnessed men shed tears over the woman he loved, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen before. What could make such a strong, sturdy man so miserable if not pure love itself? A love so profound and great that it cast doubt on Lucius's very own affections for the woman he cherished. Fortunately, there was no loss yet. He probed the vein in your neck and was relieved to find a sign that you were alive. He sighed deeply. “She has a pulse, but it’s weak,” he murmured.

“What do you mean? Tell me she's alright!"

Ignoring the urgency in Marcus's tone, Lucius uncorked one of the vials, releasing a pungent aroma that hung in the air. He carefully soaked a rag with the strange liquid and brought it close to your face. At that moment, Marcius looked up and said, “Ma-ma.” The room fell silent; everyone turned to him, tears brimming in their eyes, including Marcus, as hope flickered faintly amidst their despair.

You came to your senses, jolted by a pungent and unpleasant odor that clawed at your nostrils. The sharp scent stirred something deep inside you, and as a medicus, you instantly recognized its purpose.

When you finally opened your eyes, your surroundings came into focus, revealing Marcus' concerned face hovering closely above you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as you spotted a single tear glistening on his cheek, cascading down the rugged line of his scar like a painful memory trying to escape.

“Marcus! Why are you...?" you began to ask, but the words faded as vivid images of your last moments rushed back. Panic surged through you, and you gasped. “Has something happened to my baby?”

He gently pressed his hands against your shoulders, stopping your attempt to sit up. His warm embrace wrapped around you like a shield, and he exhaled a shaky breath, burying his face in your hair as he planted plenty of soft kisses on the top of your head.

“The child is fine, my lady. Please don’t worry,” the midwife replied.

Everyone seemed unusual; something had definitely happened. However, once you saw that the baby was well, you didn’t care what it was. You felt incredibly tired to care though.

“Just concentrate on being well yourself,” Lucius said.

You smiled weakly; he was right. He then stood up—being a medicus, he knew what the midwife had to do next. Everyone left the room except for Marcus and midwife. As the midwife carefully wiped the remnants of your labor away with warm, clean water and soft cloths, the slaves rushed to spread fresh, crisp sheets on the bed with deft hands.Through it all, Marcus kept his arms wrapped around you, his grip unyielding and protective. When the time came to dress you in fresh clothes, it was he who gently assisted, his fingers brushing your skin with the tenderness of a feather.

After nursing the baby for the first time, he helped you ease onto the soft bed, then settled in beside you. “You frightened me so much, Aurelia. For a moment, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. His fingers danced through your hair, caressing it softly as if he were untangling not just the strands but also the worries that clung to you. Snuggling closer, you nestled your head against his warm collarbone, finding solace within his embrace.

"The baby's neck was wrapped around the cord, and the midwife and I fought desperately to free her. I felt such relief when I finally heard her cry, but exhaustion washed over me, and I must have lost consciousness. Please, don’t worry; we’re both fine now.”

“Thank the gods, my love,” he murmured. “They have spared your life and our daughter’s. I’ve traveled through hell and back to heaven in a single day.”

You kissed his cheek, then turned your head to check Marcius, who was mumbling sweet nothings in his sleep, and then at your daughter— wrapped snugly in her swaddle beside you, her small chest rising and falling with each breath.

"There are four of us in this room now, General. What do you think about that?" you teased, your voice a playful whisper.

His lips curved into a warm smile, the kind that lit up his entire face. “It would be difficult to capture my feelings in mere words. All I can say is that I am the most fortunate man on earth.” You turned your head, locking eyes with him, feeling a rush of warmth. “Marcus, I feel the same. I’m truly the most fortunate woman to have you as my husband, and our children are too since they have a father like you.”

As you stifled a yawn, fatigue tugged at your eyelids, heavy with the weight of the day. He leaned in, planting a soft, tender kiss on your forehead. “You need to sleep now,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you.

“Rest well, my love.”

That week was dedicated to your recovery. You spent most of your time lying in bed. Being a mother of two children was even more beautiful and challenging than you had imagined, but the feelings you experienced were so wonderful that you couldn't have been happier. Your aunt and cousin Paulina came to visit you, and you noticed that her daughter had grown up too. You wished that one day you could see her and your daughter running around and playing together, you hoped to live long enough to witness those days.

The villa must have had one of its busiest weeks. Geta was among those who came to visit you and the children. He seemed to be doing better, but you could still sense that he wasn't truly happy, which concerned you. Decima, who couldn't be with you on the day you gave birth, came to see you and the baby the very next day. She spent all day at the villa helping you, only returning home in the evening. She also shared the wonderful news with you that she was expecting a child. Although you told her you didn't want to tire her out any further, she insisted on staying to help.

Everything was going well and blissfully; there was joy in your home, and everyone was happy. However, outside the villa, the real world still existed in all its cruelty. On the last day of the week, there was a council meeting, and the decision you dreaded was made: war was on the horizon once again.

The threat posed by Elagabalus in the south was no longer something to take lightly; it had to be eliminated as soon as possible. Preparations had begun, and the Roman army was on the verge of entering a significant battle it had not faced in a long time.

Marcus was busier than ever, dedicating countless hours to training soldiers and developing effective strategies. You could see the slight tension in his expression, even as he smiled at you. When your little girl woke you up crying in the middle of one night, you found Marcus asleep at his desk, and your heart tightened. You weren't sure what troubled you more: the impending goodbye that would come too soon, the anxiety of waiting for his return without knowing when it would be, or the fact that he had been so exhausted lately while preparing for war.

One morning, he was up early again, sitting at his desk and studying the map spread out in front of him. You softly got out of bed and walked over to him.

"What keeps my husband so busy every morning and evening?" you asked.

He looked up and met your gaze. "My sun, I ask for your forgiveness for waking before you have risen.” He opened his arms, inviting you into his embrace, and you accepted his invitation, sitting on his lap. He gently touched your cheek and scrutinized your face. "Forgive me for not giving you much time these days, my love."

"I'll forgive you if we have breakfast in the meadow," you said.

"Your wish is my command," he replied, smiling.

You smiled back, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The meadow was a breathtaking tapestry of color and life on that enchanting spring morning. It felt like a slice of heaven, where vibrant flowers unfurled their petals to the warm sun, and the trees were adorned with delicate, budding branches that danced gently in the breeze. The air was filled with the cheerful melodies of birds, harmonizing their joyful spring songs as they flitted through the branches.

You had brought Marcius here for the very first time, and the pure joy on his face was radiant. He delighted in chasing after butterflies, their wings painted in brilliant hues, while he reached out to touch the colorful blooms swaying around him. With his newfound ability to walk, he took unsteady steps, often toppling over in his excitement, but his spirit remained unbroken.

Still, his little body could only take so much. After a delightful day of exploration and play with his father, he finally succumbed to sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he nestled into Marcus's arms. Marcus sat beside you in the lush meadow, holding him close, a serene smile gracing his lips as the peaceful ambiance of nature wrapped around you like a soothing touch.

“Aurelia… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart quickened, a mix of curiosity and intuition stirring within you; the tension etched on his face revealed the truth before he even spoke. “I must leave Rome soon. After months of preparation, the moment has finally arrived. Our southern lands are under dire threat, and the peril grows more menacing with each passing day. We must take decisive action to eliminate it.”

“What is the battle plan, General?” You asked, your voice steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged inside you.

"We have successfully assembled the largest navy ever created, and the requisite ammunition and catapults are currently being loaded onto our warships. The Carthaginians possess a numerical advantage; however, a portion of their fleet is expected to be stationed at Numidia and Alexandria by this time. It is imperative that we act swiftly to leverage this situation and secure the city of Carthage. Given the absence of their commanders and a majority of their military forces, the city is currently vulnerable."

It was easy for him to explain his battle plan, but it was very difficult for you to listen and imagine him fighting there. He touched your cheek. "Aurelia, my love, this war is unlike the others. We must be prepared for anything. That's why I will leave Cato and Felix here; they will be in charge of protecting you."

You felt a lump arise in your throat. "Marcus, what are you saying?"

"If we are defeated and I..." He paused, exhaling deeply. "If I am unable to return..."

"Marcus, please—"

He pressed his thumb against your lips.

If I am unable to return, it is evident that Elagabalus may advance here with the intention of eliminating Geta. While this scenario is remote, there remains a possibility that they could lay siege to the city. The Praetorians may not be able to hold out for long. Please bear in mind that if anything happens to Geta, our son will be next. Take him and our daughter to where Felix and Cato will guide you. Do you understand? Promise me that you will do this."

Suddenly, your eyes brimmed with tears. "Marcus, I couldn't bear to live if anything happened to you. And you are saying…"

"You will live, my love," he said. "For our son, for our daughter, and for me. Even if it's not in Rome, you will find a way to carry on." As he spoke, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that stained your face. "Promise me now, please."

With a trembling breath, you nodded, the words escaping your lips like a soft, mournful whisper.

"I promise.”

Days and weeks passed, and at last, that day had arrived—the day you had feared the most, the day of separation. Anxiety wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket, stealing your sleep and filling your mind with troubling visions. The nightmare that haunted you only deepened the sense of dread, stirring a storm of helplessness within.

As Marcus leaned in to kiss you goodbye in the sun-dappled courtyard, a wave of desperation surged through you. Every fiber of your being urged you to drop to your knees, to plead with him to stay. But you resisted, forcing yourself to stand tall, to embody the strength you hoped would comfort him. You wanted him to remember the curve of your smile, the resilience in your posture.

In those final moments, as he turned to bid farewell to Marcius and your little girl, he glanced back at you. His smile was bittersweet, his gaze lingering, as if he were trying to etch your image into his memory forever. In that shared silence, the weight of unspoken words hung between you, a testament to your love and the invisible thread that would bind your hearts despite the distance.

You accompanied him out of the courtyard and wished to join him on the travel to the port of Ostia. At first, he was resistant to the idea, but your persistent insistence wore him down, and he eventually agreed—on the condition that Felix and Cato would accompany you there and back to the villa.

When the carriage arrived at the harbor, the sun was at its zenith. Marcus pointed out the fleet preparing to sail. You were mesmerized, having never seen such a large number of ships gathered together. The soldiers recognized both of you and saluted, and you returned their greetings.

From the deck of the ship, the salty breeze carried the soldier's voice across the water, “General, the wind is at our backs! We’re ready to set sail, sir!”

Marcus nodded and turned to you. “I’m afraid the time has come, my lady.”

Suddenly, you couldn't hold back your tears. Marcus gently cupped your face in his hands and wiped the tears away.

“My love, every time we part and I see tears in your eyes, my heart feels like it stays here with you. I think of you even when I wield my sword. So please, don’t cry anymore. Our children are entrusted to you in my absence; be strong for them.”

"My brave general, I hold my head high and my heart is content. But don't you know that I am in love? I miss you, I cry, I wait, but I know how to be patient. Let my tears be your companion, and let my love be your shield. I fervently wish for you to come back, safe and sound, to my waiting arms, my love. I will not allow fate to take you from me, and as your princess, I forbid you to die.”

He smiled, took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss. “I promise, my princess, I will return to you in victory,” he vowed, his voice steady yet soothing. “Let the expansive blue sky be your confidant while I am away. If you listen closely to the harsh winds that whip through the air, you will hear the whispers of my heart. The rain will fall, carrying with it my love for you.”

A wave of emotion swept over you, and you sobbed, clinging to him as if he were your anchor in a stormy sea. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. Time seemed to stand still as you held each other tightly, your tears soaking into the fabric of the red shawl he wore over his armor. He inhaled your familiar scent, etching the moment into his memory, feeling as if it were the last time.

Both of you sensed Octavius standing respectfully behind him, waiting for his general to board the ship. It was time for Marcus and his soldiers to leave the harbour and say goodbye to their homeland. Before stepping onto the deck of the ship, Marcus turned to you to meet your eyes one last time and, despite the heaviness in your heart, you managed to give him a smile—one that shimmered with unspoken words and memories, a final farewell that echoed the depth of your feelings.

In Marcus's absence, the days stretched endlessly, each one dragging like the weight of sorrow pressing upon your heart. The beautiful memories he left behind, along with your children, were your only sources of support. You found yourself missing him more deeply than ever before, a longing that gnawed at your soul.

As night fell and you lay in bed, Marcius curled up in the very spot where his father used to sleep, and you wanted him to sleep there until his father returned. You forbade the slaves from washing the last clothes he wore. Each night, you cradled his burgundy tunic, the soft fabric still carrying his familiar scent. As you breathed it in, it wrapped around you like a tender embrace, evoking memories that brought both comfort and a deep ache of longing as you fell asleep.

When Cato delivered a letter from him a few weeks later, you were overwhelmed with happiness. You went to the room to read the letter in solitude. Your heart raced as you sat on the bed and opened it.

"My beloved wife, my dear princess, my radiant sun. As I write this letter from the heart of the vast sea on a dark night, where the moon remains hidden, I want you to know how profoundly I feel your absence. The silence around me is overwhelming, and as I gaze out from the deck, I see only the endless waves stretching far and wide—no land in sight, just emptiness that echoes my longing for you. Then a wind stirs, and I whisper how deeply I miss you and how immeasurable my love for you is, how I wish that this breeze could carry my words to you before my return. As dawn breaks, a flock of birds appears on the horizon, gliding gracefully away from the shore. They soar towards Rome, towards you, towards home. I wish to join them and fly towards you. I wish to land on your chest and die there, only to be awakened by your sweet kiss, bringing me back to life. Then we could lie in our room, in our bed, holding each other, never wanting to wake up. Until our son and beautiful daughter call out to us…"

You lingered over the letter, reading it over and over, the soft paper cradled between your fingers. As you pressed your lips to the words he'd written, you could almost feel his warm fingers brushing against your skin. The familiarity of his handwriting wrapped around your heart like a soothing embrace. Determined to respond, you resolved to pour your heart into a letter of your own tomorrow. But for now, you knew you needed to gather your thoughts and find the right words, all while bracing yourself against the tears that threatened to spill.

It had been several days since you received Marcus's letter, and you were eager for any news from him. After nursing your little girl and ensuring she was sound asleep, you slowly descended the stairs. You heard some noises coming from outside and felt excited to see Cato—could he have brought news from Marcus? However, when you saw his expression, your excitement turned to worry and fear. You knew that something had happened, and you knew it couldn't be good.

“Cato?”

You felt a rush of concern as you noticed Decima was at his side. She dashed toward you, her body collapsing into your arms as sobs wracked her body, sending a jolt of anguish through your chest. You grasped her shoulders firmly, trying to soothe her.

“What’s wrong?”

Cato’s gaze fell to the ground, his eyes refusing to meet yours, as if too burdened by the weight of the news he carried.

“Speak, Cato! Tell me at once!” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice.

“My lady,” he began, his voice steady yet heavy with sorrow. “There was news this morning. Our navy… our fleet has come under attack by the Carthaginian navy in the Mediterranean. Many of our ships have been sunk, and we have been informed that the general and Sir Octavius's ship were among them.”

“We don't know the details yet. The legates and commanders who stayed in the city will convene with Emperor Geta today. An emergency meeting has been called.”

“Get my horse ready,” you murmured, urgency lacing your tone.

Cato blinked in surprise, hesitating. “My lady, forgive me, but now may not be the right time to go there—”

You silenced him with a fierce glare that brooked no argument.

“Now!” you commanded, your voice rising with an intensity that cut through the air like a clarion call, summoning the slaves into action.

Cato rode alongside you as you made your way up Palatine Hill. A sense of suspicion filled your mind; you were convinced that Marcus was still alive, and you believed there had to be a way to reach him. You grasped Unio's reins to bring her to a halt, she neighed loudly. You jumped down and noticed the guards looking at you in surprise, but you didn't pay them any attention. You rushed inside.

A few soldiers and guards were standing outside the great hall, and Cato ran to catch up with you as you moved toward the entrance. You walked between the soldiers and approached the door. The guards were taken aback to see you. They hesitated, unsure whether to open the door for you, as a meeting was taking place inside.

“Open the gate now!” you commanded.

“Did you not hear Lady Aurelia?” Cato snapped at them.

The guards looked at each other, but eventually, they opened the door for you.

As you entered, the first person you noticed was Commander Darius. Geta stood directly across from him. Centurion Varus was also present, along with two other men. They were all engrossed in a discussion about the map spread out before them. When they heard the door open, they all turned their heads toward you.

“Oh sister, the news must have reached you too,” Geta said worriedly.

Everyone in the hall greeted you, saying, “My Lady.”

You nodded to them and went straight to Geta's side. "Any recent news?"

"We're still waiting," he replied, his voice heavy with anxiety. "Also, we cling to the hope that the fleet will return soon."

You shook your head. "It'll take days."

"Seven days at least," Varus interjected, his tone grim. "The fleet may return without the general, and we haven’t heard from him yet."

You shot him a fierce glare, refusing to entertain his words. "What do you mean? He's not dead; my husband is still alive!"

"I hope so, my lady," Varus replied, his expression grave, "But we must prepare for every possible outcome and fortify the city against an impending assault. The general took nearly 30,000 troops with him, and our defenses were weak. I warned him that his strategy was flawed, but—"

"You know very well that my husband, General Acacius, has never faltered in any of his strategies," you protested, your voice trembling with emotion that surged within you like an approaching storm. "Something is amiss. Someone must have betrayed him; could it not be?"

Varus flashed a tense grin, his discomfort palpable in the charged atmosphere. "Regardless, we have no time to engage in such discussions. We must urgently select a new commander, a general, Your Majesty, to lead the troops that protect the city."

"The Council will convene tomorrow in an emergency session," you asserted, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders. "A decision will be reached then; the most seasoned commander will be chosen. For now, head to the barracks and send word to the navy. We must ascertain the general's condition once and for all."

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, a formal salute snapping his posture straight before he exited the hall. As the door closed behind him, an uneasy feeling settled in your gut; you couldn't shake the unsettling way he had looked at you. You might be mistaken, but you feel he is somehow involved in this situation. But how? More importantly, if he is indeed involved, what might his next action be?

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee

@this--is--music @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @melsunshine @meetmeatyourworst @footballfangirl94 @daejangandimja @ariesandwolves @hooomansstuff @vlonerv @chewie-bars @dendulinka6 @lucienofthelakes

@superqueenearthquake @ultra-nina-bella @longlivekingminnn @pedroloverbilmemkac @aurorathegreekprincess @daejangandimja @pedritomylovebemyhusband @fatimayilmazzz @javiismyhsbnd @jisungandpedrolover @shinsegismylove @luvleyprincess @meetmeatyourworst

your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x oc #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x ofc #marcurelia #marcus acacius fanfiction #general acacius #pedro pascal gladiator #acacius #gladiator 2

368 notes · View notes

ancientcharm · 2 months ago

Text

'I am no king, but Caesar'

Gaius Julius Caesar was born on July 12, 100 BC in the Suburra, a populous neighborhood of Rome, to a patrician family although in economic decline. In Gens Iulia, those who had the surname Caesar descended, according to the account of Pliny the Elder, from a man who was born after a Caesarean section (from the Latin verb "to cut", caedo, -ĕre, caesus sum). He was born in a Republic in crisis and the aristocracy divided into two warring factions: The optimates and populares. He lost his father when he was about 14 years old; he was greatly influenced by his maternal uncle Gaius Marius. Caesar had an older sister, Julia Major, and a younger sister Julia Minor (maternal grandmother of Emperor Augustus). His uncle, Gaius Marius, was the leader of the Populares ("supporters of the people") and rival of Lucius Cornelius Sulla, leader of the Optimates ( "best ones")

In 84 BC Lucius Cornelius Cinna, an ally of Gaius Marius, chose the 16 year old Caesar to be flamen Dialis (priest of Jupiter) and married him to his 13 year old daughter Cornelia with whom Caesar had a daughter named Julia. It is not certain whether the girl was born a few months before or after the teen Caesar had fled Rome or, more likely according to historians, she was born when he returned years later and was reunited with his wife who died giving birth to Julia.

Following the suicide of Gaius Marius in 86 BC, Cinna, one of the leaders of the Populares, became sole ruler of Rome and most of the provinces while persecuting Sulla's followers. In 84 Cinna was assassinated and populares defeated. Because of Caesar's alliance with Cinna's family he was targeted for revenge by the dictator Sulla who attempted to force him to repudiate Cornelia, but Caesar refused and fled Rome to the East.

In addition to being a politician and a soldier, Julius Caesar was a writer. Among others, his works were a treatise on astronomy, another on Roman religion, a study on Latin and his comments on the war in Gaul and the Civil War; only his writings on those two wars have not been lost.

After Sulla's death from natural causes, Caesar decided to return to Rome. He was reunited with his wife Cornelia, who had waited faithfully for him. After the death of Cornelia, he suffered a great mourning.

After serving as quaestor in the Hispania Ulterior province where he increased his network of clients - patronage was key to success in Roman politics - Caesar returned to Rome in 69 BC where he served as Aedile; he carried out building programs and offered the largest gladiatorial games seen until then. This left him almost bankrupt. In 60 BC he decided to make a private agreement with the prestigious general Pompey the Great and one of the richest man, Marcus Licinius Crassus. Pompey had just put an end to the pirate problem and years earlier, together with Crassus, he had defeated the slave rebellion led by Spartacus.

Pompey and Crassus were hampered in many of their ambitions by the Optimates in the Senate. Caesar, knowing this, approached them to put together an unofficial coalition - known to history as the Triumvirate - if they made him Consul, he would see to it that laws were passed that would benefit them. To further consolidate this alliance, Caesar married Pompey to his only daughter, Julia. Although this was a typical political marriage, classical sources state that Julia truly loved Pompey and he loved her.

Pompey and Crassus decided to ally themselves with Caesar and the populares in order to gain more offices and wealth. In this way, the three took full control of Rome. In 59 Caesar was appointed consul.

Laws were passed granting the province of Syria to Crassus. Laws were passed distributing lands among Pompey's veterans. And at his own request, the Gallic provinces-both the pacified and the "wild" ones- were handed over to Caesar. Cicero, a true defender of the Republic, was exiled due his bold speeches against the Triumvirate, which he called a "three-headed monster" but was allowed to return the following year. The passage of the laws favoring the triumvirs was ensured by introducing veteran legionaries of Pompey into the meetings of the Senate.

Also in 59 BC Caesar established a military camp in the Arno valley, on the Via Cassi, the main communication route between Rome and the north of the country. He called the camp Florentia, which means "flowering." The camp quickly became an important commercial town. Today it is the beautiful Italian city Florence.

In Gaul with his legions, he defeated and subdued several peoples in just a few years. Caesar wrote in detail about this conquest in his Bellum Gallicum (Gallic War). Believing that everything was under control, he headed to the mysterious land that the Romans called Britannia and where they believed the world ended. The Gallic War was between 58-52 BC

Caesar finally arrived in Britain for the first time in the summer of 55 landing with two legions. The following year he arrived with 800 ships, five legions and 2,000 cavalry. Caesar's comments on this war constitute the first written descriptions of the people, culture and geography of the island.

Although Caesar not conquered Britania (it was conquered under the Emperor Claudius) this campaign it established Rome's first allied peoples in Britain.

While in Britania, Caesar received the news that his daughter and the baby she was expecting had died in childbirth.

At the same time he had no idea that a genuine leader named Vercingetorix, chief of the Arverni tribe, had managed to unite all the Gallic peoples under his authority, determined to expel the Romans

Caesar himself called him "King of all Gauls"

The most famous and final battle was that of Alesia. Although Vercingetorix was a great warrior, he could do nothing against the genius (sometimes bordering on madness) of Caesar and his legionaries. According to Caesar, Vercingetorix, seeing that if he continued he would starve his entire people to death due to the siege, rode towards the Roman camp, dismounted, took off his sword and sat on the ground without saying a word. He decided to surrender in exchange for his people living. And so it happened, Vercingetorix was taken prisoner but his men were not executed. But Caesar had to wait years for his triumph -and Vercingetorix had to wait as a prisoner in Rome, before his execution- because while Caesar was fighting against the Gauls, many Roman senators were plotting his downfall.

Everything Caesar wrote about his battles and conquests, written in the third person, was copied and sent to be read publicly in Rome, which was celebrated by the plebs and Caesar 's supporters. True republicans such as Cato, Cicero, Cassius, and Brutus perceived a real danger to the Republic. The Triumvir Crassus was killed by Parthians in his failed attempt to conquer Parthia: The triumvirate was over and Pompey, who had become Sole Consul saw in Caesar a dangerous rival, and allied himself with the Optimates again.

They created a new law that prohibited running for public office in absentia. Thus, Caesar, who was away from Rome, lost the protection of the law that granted him a magistracy and could not run for consulship in order to return to Rome as consul. If he returned as a private citizen he would be lost everything. So in January 49 BC he decided returned to Rome with the force of his legionaries who followed him with devotion.

No legion could cross the Rubicon River, that meant civil war. Caesar crossed the Rubicon with his XIII legion and proclaimed a very popular phrase in Ancient Rome that players always said before throwing the dice: "Alea Iacta Est" (the die is cast). This is known thanks to Roman historians who took as a source the writings of Gaius Asinius Pollio, who was close to Caesar and could have heard him.

Pompey and his legionaries left Rome and prepared for the war in Greece. In September of 48 Pompey was defeated at the Battle of Pharsalus. But he did not give up and headed to Egypt to seek the support of the young king Ptolemy XIII. Egypt was then a vassal kingdom of Rome due to its years of indebtedness, and the creditor was precisely Pompey, who had lent huge sums to Ptolemy XII. But as soon as he landed in Egypt, he was met by a group of men who, in the name of the young king, beheaded him and took his ring.

While Cato the Younger and his men went to the province of Africa to continue the resistance, and Pompey's sons did the same in Hispania. Caesar went looking for Pompey to try to come to an agreement.

'Julius Caesar’s Dismay Upon Seeing The Head Of Pompey' (detail) By Louis-Jean-François Lagrenée (18th century)

King Ptolemy XIII, who was engaged in his own war with his sister Cleopatra for the throne, thought that by killing Pompey and giving his head and ring as a gift he would earn Caesar's gratitude and thus his kingdom would settle the unpayable debt it owed Rome. But Caesar was enraged by the undignified manner in which a Roman general and consul had been murdered and decided to side with Cleopatra and her allies.

The meeting between Cleopatra VII and Caesar at night and she entered hidden inside a huge rolled-up carpet carried by his slaves. Cleopatra was one of the many lovers that he had, they lived together and had a son, nicknamed Caesarion (little Caesar) whom he recognized but not legally. While some Republican Roman forces continued to resist, Caesar was immersed in the war between Ptolemy XIII, Cleopatra and the other sister, Arsinoe IV. Caesar's troops, together with those of Cleopatra plus Caesar's allies such as Mithridates of Pergamon and his army and a Jewish armed force led by Antipater finally won that war in January 47 and Cleopatra kept the throne of Egypt.

'The Death of Cato of Utica' , By Jean-Paul Laurens.

In early 46 BC, Caesar defeated the army of Cato the Younger . The 49-year-old Cato did not take part in the battle and being in Utica, Africa, after receiving the news that Caesar had won and pardoned his adversaries, decided to take his own life for refusing to "live a life spared by a tyrant." Cato had a republican soul but was stubborn man, and was convinced that Caesar wanted to be king. He was the half-brother of Brutus's mother, Servilla (Caesar's long-time lover)

It was in this same year that Caesar, with the advice of the astronomer Sosigenes of Alexandria, reformed the calendar, leaving each month with the same number of days as it has today and creating the leap year.

The final battle of Munda, in Hispania, was on March 17, 45 BC, thus ending the civil war. Caesar returned to Rome and an intimidated Senate legitimized his victory by appointing him dictator for a ten-year term.

The position of Dictator was created by the Republic itself; he was a magistrate, elected by the Senate, with absolute powers to resolve military emergencies or exceptional tasks for a period of six months. He had to leave after that period or before if he managed to resolve the problem. This 10-year dictatorship was unprecedented.

In February 44 BC, Caesar succeeded in having the people of Rome proclaim him dictator for life. Cicero resigned from political life in protest.

Cassius persuaded Brutus that the only way to save the Republic was to kill Caesar. They needed Brutus to lead the conspiracy because of his prestige; he was not only Cato's nephew but also the direct descendant of the Republic's founding father.

On 15 March 44 BC the group of conspirators intercepted Caesar just as he was passing the Theatre of Pompey, where the Roman Curia was meeting, and led him into a room off the portico. Lucius Tillius Cimber, under the pretext of presenting a petition, grabbed Caesar's toga with both hands and pulled him so tha Publius Servilius Casca could stab him, causing Caesar to exclaim "Ista quidem vis est?" "What kind of violence is this?" (Caesar, being Pontifex Maximus, was legally untouchable). Senator Casca, drawing a dagger, slashed him across the neck. "What are you doing, Casca, you villain?" were perhaps his last words. According to classical sources, he tried to flee but slipped on his own blood, fell to the ground and was stabbed. A Roman coroner stated that "Caesar's body had 23 dagger wounds but only one of them, in the chest, was fatal." They also claim that Caesar fell at the feet of the marble bust of Pompey the Great and as he lay dying he took his toga and covered his face so that no one would see him die. He was 55 years old.

Mark Antony with other colleagues carefully collected the body and carried it before the people. Then he made a memorable speech.

The month then called Quintilis, the month of Caesar's birth, was renamed Iulius (July) in his honour on the initiative of Mark Antony. Julius Caesar was the last dictator of Rome; the office was abolished after his death.

Caesar named his grandnephew Gaius Octavius Thurinus as sole heir and adopted son thus taking the same name as Gaius Julius Caesar. To differentiate them, historians refer to him as Octavius (or Octavian). But nowhere in his will did he say that his nephew should be his successor in office. It was very common in Roman aristocratic men who had no male children, adopted a nephew, the son of a sister or niece, or the grandson they had through a daughter, so that he could carry on his family name.

Octavius (Augustus) became the first Emperor of Rome after being part of a triumvirate that, unlike the first, was official, after years of several civil wars, and thanks to his iron will, his extraordinary cunning and political skill.

After his death, Caesar was proclaimed Divus Iulius, or the Divine Julius. He was the first Roman ruler to be deified. Mark Antony was the first to serve as Flamen Divi Julii, priest of the Caesar cult.

The name CAESAR would become the Title of Imperial Power, even many centuries later translated into other languages, such as the German Kaiser or the Russian Tsar.

In front of the theatre, an altar was erected where the pyre was placed so that Julius Caesar's body could be cremated in great mourning. Part of this altar is still preserved in the ruins; more than two thousand years after the assassination, every 15th of March, people come to leave flowers there.

Photo by Giovanni Dall'Orto, taken on March 15, 2008 Attribution, via Wikimedia Commons

#julius caesar #history #ancient rome #oil painting #painting

175 notes · View notes

trikaranos · 1 year ago

Text

TRIKARANOS CHAPTER I: S·T·T·L

TRIKARANOS is a comic about Crassus until it isn't. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it (I Am Extremely Fucking Broke And Have Bills To Pay etc etc) through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

🍊the first collage panel is combination of: Plate 113: Greeks Battling the Trojans (from Ovid's Metamorphoses), Antonio Tempesta / The Trojans pulling the wooden horse into the city, Giulio Bonasone (after Francesco Primaticcio) / Terracotta hydria displaying Achilles waiting to ambush Triolos and Polyxena 🍊the second collage panel is: The Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David / the paint over of Brutus executing is own sons is my own work based on the composition of this relief of Brutus and condemning his sons to death. 🍊I also used my own art: a panel from the Prologue, and my own illustration of Brutus with the bodies of his sons

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT creator’s commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn’t need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it’s a comic and a story first and foremost, but it’s here if you’re curious about something or want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

I'm so fucking normal about Crassus and his family (<<< this is a lie)

Marcus Crassus was the son of a man who had been censor and had enjoyed a triumph; but he was reared in a small house with two brothers. His brothers were married while their parents were still alive, and all shared the same table, which seems to have been the chief reason why Crassus was temperate and moderate in his manner of life. When one of his brothers died, Crassus took the widow to wife, and had his children by her, and in these relations also he lived as well-ordered a life as any Roman.

Plutarch, Crassus

like, it actively fucks me up that this is something that's survived about him for over 2,000 years. they all ate together at the same table. Jesus Christ.

so! Crassus' dad! Publius Licinius Crassus (consul 97) fought on the side of Cn. Octavius (consul 87) in the Bellum Octavianum, and it didn't go great for him.

Crassus: A Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

also. currently, if you look Publius Licinius Crassus up on wikipedia for an overview, his page lists his son (and also my main character for this comic) with the cognomen Dives, which is in-fucking-correct.

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

and to circle back to houses and meals shared with family, some citations that made me feel some kind of way when I read them

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

finally, there is discourse or whatever on the placement of the sons of Publius Licinius Crassus. Crassus is the baby brother here simply because I'm writing this story and I get to pick the themes, but also because no one has provided a solid enough argument for him being the second eldest son that I'm willing to buy into with enthusiasm, and I'm more inclined towards G. Sampson's conclusion on the matter.

Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae, and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson

and while I'm just kind of talking about stuff that I read that I enjoyed, this article by Martin Stone lives in my head rent free

A Year of One's Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

#trikaranos the komik #hehghghh HELLO i'm back. oof. hgh #if i think too much about them as a family i take critical damage to my hit points

640 notes · View notes

opencommunion · 1 year ago

Text

"Forced Lent. The Syrian people did not have to wait for Lent to arrive, their lives are already filled with austerity and daily sacrifices.

For 13 years now, our families are living a forced Fasting which is becoming heavier each day, that seems like an endless Calvary.

No heat for the elders, already made fragile by the cold winter, no baby milk for the newborns, a shortage of many medicines aggravating sicknesses and illnesses, extreme poverty. Those are the conditions leading to the death of many.

Once viewed as the hope of the future, the young generation is suffocating and desperate. Poverty, lack of jobs, impossibility to start new families, impossibility to apply for visas and leave the country as consulates are shutting down, eliminating thus their last hope. A total blockade with devastating sanctions.

Facing all the above, many are desperately searching to leave, even at the risk of losing their life by drowning on one of those refugee boats.

Isn't all of the above a form of forced euthanasia that is slowly and surely being imposed on that poor and deprived population?

Let us entrust our concerns to Our Lady of the Resurrection."

Samir Nassar, Maronite Archbishop of Damascus, Lent 2024 On the third day of Lent in the Maronite calendar (Feb 15), the US House passed a bill expanding economic sanctions that contribute to the starvation of the Syrian people.

#lent #syria #imperialism #maronite

588 notes · View notes

workersolidarity · 11 months ago

Text

[ 📹 Scenes from the burned bodies of a Palestinian family after an attack by the Zionist occupation army, killing the father and six other family members and severely burning the mother and her four children, the sickening result of an American-made bomb being dropped on their family home.

📈 The current death toll in "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in Gaza has now reached 33'137 killed and another 75'815 injuries.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏠💥🚑 🚨

MURDERS SLOW BUT DON'T STOP ON 183RD DAY OF "ISRAEL'S" SPECIAL GENOCIDE OPERATION IN GAZA

On the 183rd day of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 46 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 65 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

A number of victims of Israeli bombings remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters, while corpses still line many streets as the occupation army continues to block ambulance and civil defense crews from reaching the sites of Israeli attacks.

In a report today, published in the American newspaper the Wall Street Journal, the news outlet said that the Biden administration is pushing the Zionist entity to accept one of the sticking points in negotiations with the Hamas resistance movement, the return of Palestinians to the northern Gaza Strip who've been displaced by the Israeli aggression.

This has been one of the main demands from Hamas in the negotiations, with the others being the withdrawal of Zionist forces from Gaza and the free flow of Humanitarian aid into the besieged enclave.

According to the report, the Biden administration asked that the Israeli entity's Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, allow a limited number of women and children to return to the north of Gaza, while continuing to block men between the ages of 18-50 from returning.

The newspaper said this would "allay American fears of an Israeli attack on the southern city of Rafah," essentially permitting a planned Israeli ground offensive in the area. More than 1.4 million displaced Palestinians have crowded into Rafah, a city of only 171'000 prior to October 7th, 2023, stretching the city's resources thin and helping to spread disease while under starvation conditions.

According to Arab negotiators mediating the talks, the Israeli entity has said it could accept the return of civilians to northern Gaza at a rate of just 2'000 people per day, as long as those returning are women and children, and with a cap of no more than 60'000 Palestinians allowed back to their utterly destroyed homes.

However, with the continued blocking of basic materials like concrete, and no men allowed to return, where the 60'000 Palestinian civilians would live seems an open question.

Hamas, for its part, according to a CNN report, rejected the idea of only allowing 60'000 women and children to return to the north. An unnamed diplomat involved in the negotiations told CNN that "They rejected (the proposal) and considered that it ignored their demands,” adding that the Israeli proposal "did not include anything new," and therefore the movement does not "see any need to change its proposal."

Meanwhile, the Zionist bombing and shelling campaign responsible for so many tens of thousands of civilian casualties over the previous six months has slowed since the recent massacre of 7 foreign aid workers in a series of targeted drone strikes back-to-back with a second atrocity, and a blatant war crime, when Zionist forces bombed the Iranian consulate in Damascus, the Syrian capital, but has yet to stop despite heavy international pressure, including some limited pressure put on the Netanyahu regime by the Americans.

In a recent letter sent to the American President, signed onto by the House Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi, dozens of Congressional Democrats urged U.S. President Joe Biden and Secretary of State Antony Blinkin to withhold arms transfers to the Israeli regime until a full investigation can be held and completed into the slaughter of the 7 foreign aid workers.

The letter was issued by U.S. Congressmembers Mark Pocan, Jim McGovern and Jan Schakowski and signed by 40 other lawmakers, including Pelosi, many of whom are considered staunch supporters of the Israeli entity.

According to a report about the letter, frustration has been mounting among House Democrats for months as the Netanyahu regime prosecuted its deadly Special Genocide Operation in Gaza, slaughtering tens of thousands of civilians, including over 14'000 children who've been killed since the start of the war.

However, Tuesday's deadly strike on the World Central Kitchen (WCK) personnel as they finished unloading many tons of humanitarian aid into a distribution warehouse in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, and bombed as they were leaving the city, has shook many lawmakers and their aides, many of whom believe the attack to be a turning point in U.S. support for the Israeli regime's genocide campaign.

Even some lawmakers who've refrained from criticizing "Israel" until now have since begun to call for a ceasefire, and some even signed onto the letter issued to the Biden administration, such as U.S. Congressmember Chris Coons, who came out on Thursday in favor of placing restrictions and conditions on American military aid to "Israel".

Meanwhile, the bombing and shelling in Gaza continued, albeit at a slower rate than before Tuesday's attacks on the WCK convoy, the Israeli occupation artillery forces shelled Al-Sika Street in the southeast of Gaza City, and also shelled Beit Hanoun, both in the northern Gaza Strip.

Zionist forces also fired artillery and live bullets at high intensity towards residential neighborhoods in southwestern Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip.

At the same time, the occupation army targeted several residential homes in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, along with the Al-Sabra neighborhood in central Gaza City, and also the Tal al-Hawa and Sheikh Ajlin neighborhoods southwest of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of three Palestinian civilians, and wounding at least 10 others. Many of whom were transferred to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital.

Similarly, Zionist occupation forces fired artillery shells towards neighborhoods in the southwest of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, while occupation forces also shelled the the central and western areas of the city as well.

IOF warplanes bombed several residential homes and buildings in the Al-Amal neighborhood west of Khan Yunis, while at the same time, live bullets fired by a Zionist sniper stationed on the border fence east of Al-Fukhari, located east of Khan Yunis, critically wounded one female Palestinian civilian.

The Zionist aggression continued when Israeli occupation soldiers detonated multiple residential homes in the northern areas of Al-Mughraqa, north of Al-Nuseirat, in the central Gaza Strip, while Paramedic crews recovered the corpses two martyrs in the same city while under the continuous artillery shelling of the occupation army.

In another Israeli war crime, Zionist warplanes bombed the Al-Sharafa family home, located in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing and wounding three displaced Palestinians sheltering in the building at the time.

Simultaneously, Zionist gunboats "intermittently" shelled the shores of Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza, where children and families often gather to enjoy the beach, even as the Israeli genocide has unfolded.

In yet another violation of International humanitarian law, occupation soldiers fired live bullets at Palestinian civilians gathered at the Al-Kuwaiti roundabout, south of Gaza City, at the intersection of Salah al-Din Street and Street 10, wounding at least 7 civilians who were transferred to Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahia, in the northern Gaza Strip.

Zionist forces also bombarded a residential home belonging to the Mansour family in Jabalia al-Balad, in the north of Gaza, killing a number of Palestinian civilians, while occupation artillery fire also concentrated on the east of the Jabalia area.

As a result of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among Palestinians has now risen in excess of 33'137 citizens killed, over 14'350 of which being children, while another 75'815 Palestinians have been wounded, and yet another 7'000 remain missing under the rubble of their homes since the start of the Zionist aggression on Gaza beginning on October 7th, 2023.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#source9

#graphicsource

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

275 notes · View notes

solspina · 24 days ago

Text

To Take Away it's Pain

Luis Dante ⋆˙⟡ - for @justanothermemestrider

my very very late half of a writing trade! i am so sorry this took 3 months and may feel rushed, college paired with physical therapy and writers block is a deadly combo.

being the wife of the chapter master is no easy task, especially when your husband goes silent for days on end. after consulting dante's closest consul and finally finding her husband, dante must confess to his days-old hidden secret.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: trigger warning mephiston, red thirst and general 40k stuff

“And you’re sure, lord Mephiston?”

“Certain.” The lord of death replied, making it near obvious that he paid no mind to her concerned gaze. Her eyes remained fixated on the cascading crimson robes that adorned his lower half, or the way they flowed like a fountain of blood from his waist as he paced around his quarters, eyes closed, mind deep in thought. “I do not tell you this to bring you fear, just in hopes that you exercise caution, and understand that you have a safe place within the librarius if things are to go wrong.”

She nodded her head in agreement before her eyes met the floor instead. She sat perched atop Mephiston’s desk, quiet and still, for she had already spoken her piece to the chief librarian. He spoke very little, and the wisdom that fell from his lips spilled out in indecipherable riddles and in a jumble of accents she often asked him to repeat.

“I just don’t understand why he’s been so avoidant lately, Mephiston.” She spoke, finally finding the courage to cut the tension in the air. “He confided in you about something you’re not telling me. Please just tell me what’s wrong with my Dante. I am afraid.”

The lord of death shook his head. “It is not my place to tell you of things I have been trusted with.” he replied and watched her face contort into clear disappointment, perhaps anger. “But I can tell you that he is afraid too - of how you will feel when you know the cause of his recent… irritation.” said Mephiston with the slightest of smiles across his face.

His fangs very slightly peeked from behind his lips when he smiled. Beautiful, genuine, and dangerous all the same. It would be a lie to say that the chief librarian did not make her just as discomforted as he did Dante, yet her frustration toward him grew greater than the gnawing feeling within to avoid snapping at him.

“I need you to tell me what you know about Dante. I command it.” She spoke as she slid down from her sitting position on his desk. Her tone had become more hardened, her eyes narrow and her shoulders held in perfect noble posture. She tried to appear larger, to show her authority as the chapter master’s beloved, to show that she was not afraid; a façade that came crashing down the moment Mephiston stepped closer to match her display of command.

He kneeled to her height and cocked his head to the side, clearly amused by her attempt at standing up to something powerful beyond her comprehension. “Do not forget you are in my librarius, little angel. Dante has little command here.” His hair fell over his shoulders as he leaned down to her height, his face mere inches away from hers, eyes illuminated a gentle blue. She held her expression despite her hummingbird heart pounding in her chest. Whether it was from fear or genuine determination was his knowledge and his alone, a feeling not even her pitiful human mind could comprehend.

He pulled away from being so close to her after a few moments, satisfied with her lack of willingness to back down. “He is in his quarters, if I transport you there myself you can catch him before he attempts to flee again.” said Mephiston as he opened a small window into the warp with a wave of his hand, the elaborate door to Dante’s personal quarters a clear image a mere few feet into the portal.

She stared in awe at the window for a few moments before she turned to thank the lord of death, and yet the moment she met his gaze he had grabbed the back of her robes and tossed her through the portal with little effort. She landed on the opposite side with a soft thump, and the portal slammed shut behind her, the image of Mephiston on the opposite end faded with it. Impatient he was, as always.

She sat at the door to the Lord Regent's quarters and stared down at her hands for a moment before curling her fingers into fists and inhaling a deep breath. "I can do this," she told herself, expression filled with an incredibly calm determination. "Just have to talk to him."

She did not allow herself a moment of doubt before entering Dante's quarters, a place she treated as unfamiliar even though she too slept there each time she needed a place to rest. Dante himself sat on the edge of his massive bed, noticeably shocked at his wife's sudden intrusion and even more shocked she knew where he was after he had so carefully watched her daily routine and made sure it hadn't aligned with his over the past few days.

"My love..." He spoke, excited for a moment before he urgently buried his face in his hands and covered it, seeming to remember he had a dire secret to hide. "How did you know I was-"

"The Chief Librarian and I spoke. He tells me you aren't telling me something."

Dante flinched slightly, clearly taken aback by her incredibly harsh tone. She did not hesitate when it came to interrupting her husband's rather irrelevant questions. According to the lord of death, he had been hiding information from her for days. He could afford her at the very least a few moments of her own secrecy.

He would be a complete fool to assume his own wife was not suspicious of his hands covering his visage. A part of her softened at the sight of him shying away from her as if he were a dog that had been cornered, fearing punishment if it looked its accuser in the eye.

"Dante..."

Her facade of anger came crashing down around her the moment she heard the slightest of sniffles coming from the chapter master followed by what seemed like an endless slurring of explanations and apologies. "Don't look at me... I'm sorry... I didn't want to..." He wept gently into his hands, and yet not a single word told his wife the full truth she was after.

“My angel… what did you- “

“Blood… living blood…” He murmured as he buried one hand further into his face and gripped at the sheets of his bed with the other. His knuckles turned an incredibly pale white at the strength of his grip. “My oath… I…”

Dante finally allowed his tears to flow freely, and his wife simply stood still in front of him. She watched his chest rise and fall with sobs, and eyed at the bleeding claw marks in his arms left by none other than his own fingernails, likely something he felt was a much-deserved act of self-penitence.

"You are saying that you took living blood, Lord Dante?"

He stiffened under the use of such a title from his own wife, as if it were not one he heard at each moment of each day. Even in spite of his evident fear, he curled in on himself further and nodded frantically.

"Please," He whispered, his voice weak and muted underneath persecution - the consequences of his actions. "Forgive me."

Silence hung heavy in the air for more than a few insatiably uncomfortable moments. Dante's wife did not dare to speak underneath the weight of the realization that her husband had become weak, and Dante did not dare release his body from the position of one of old terra's aquatic crustaceans, lest she have to meet his eye.

The chapter master was almost certain that this matter meant divorce for him.

Not only had he hidden a great secret from his wife, but he had broken a centuries-old oath that would surely tarnish his reputation in the face of many, beginning with his chief librarian and beloved wife.

And yet, the very second he felt he were going to finally curl up and die, her laughter filled the room like a sudden and gentle symphony meant only for his ears. Not composed or pompous chuckles meant to impress for diplomacy, but genuine and heartfelt laughter. The shock alone was enough to catch him off guard and bring his sunken eyes to meet her form as she sat down next to him, her eyes filling with tears as her giggles failed to find any restraint.

"You hid from me over something so small?" She struggled to catch her breath. "Oh, oh forgive me my love. It's just that-"

"You are laughing..."

Dante tilted his head to one side as she took his face into her palms, meeting his eyes with her own and giving him a smile so soft he nearly forgot he had exsanguinated a baseline to the point of death.

"I could never hate you over something so small. You have been alive for a dozen lifetimes, tending to your own needs is not selfish, especially when what you need is freely offered."

Dante felt the grip of guilt release his mind ever so slightly and took a deep, shuddering breath before nodding and releasing his bodily tension as much as he physically could. He met his wife's smile with his own to the very best of his ability and allowed her to crawl into his lap. She settled on placing her stomach against his thighs, lying face down across his crossed legs, effectively trapping him sat on his own mattress as he rubbed gentle circles into her back, releasing short, silent, sob-filled breaths as days worth of emotional tension tied to a secret he had far overestimated fell from his cracked lips.

"No more hiding," She proclaimed, teasing and yet commanding. "I want you here when I wake from my sleep, this time."

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

@astrohymn @moodymisty @undeaddream

@kit-williams @lemon-russ @egrets-not-regrets

@justeverythingnothingelse

(please comment to be added/removed from my taglist !!)

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #luis dante x reader #dante x reader #luis dante #space marine x reader

85 notes · View notes

waitingformyfool · 1 month ago

Text

28 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 2 months ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 45

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,850ish

Summary: On the road, your group finds a family in need of help.

Warning(s): lots of movie dialogue, canon violence, injuries, character death(s)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The four of you found yourselves back on the road soon after the wedding ceremony. Things seemed lighter in a way. Laura and Charles sat in back while Logan drove and you sat beside him. Logan kept one hand on the wheel while his other kept a firm hold on yours. He didn’t want to let you go before your marriage was official, but now he really didn’t want to.

Charles was drifting in and out of sleep as Laura stared out the window with her sunglasses, locking and unlocking the door.

“Knock it off,” Logan said, voice gruff. Laura made no move to stop. “I said, knock it off!”

“She’s a child, Logan,” Charles said. “And, point of face, she’s your—“

“How long has it been since you took your meds?” Charles exhaled, annoyed. “Tell me, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know!”

Logan scoffed. “You saw what happened yesterday. If that shit had gone on any longer, everything in that casino—“

“I did what I had to do to save Laura and Y/N.”

“What?” You questioned, turning to look back at Charles.

“I knew you wouldn’t get to my meds and I kept you from doing so. You wouldn’t have been able to take on all those men while protecting Laura and I.”

“You had a fucking seizure on purpose?!” Logan exclaimed, clearly furious.

“I guess you prefer me pharmaceutically castrated, rambling on like a lunatic. So much easier for you.”

“Easier? There is nothing easy about you, Charles, nothing!”

“Yes, yes, please be like the rest of the world, blaming someone else for your boring shit.”

“I know, Pop, I’m such a giant disappointment.”

“What? Logan, you’re not a disappointment,” you tried to interject.

“You honestly derive no sense of purpose from what we’re doing?” Charles continued.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Logan questioned. “Hmm?”

“There is a young mutant sitting in our car.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“And where we’re taking her, there are others. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, means nothing to me. Especially since Nurse Gabriela made all that Eden shit up with fucking comic books.”

“What are you talking about?”

Logan let go of your hand and opened the center consul. He pulled out a bottle, handing it to you. “Give those to him, will you?”

“Logan,” you tried.

“Give ‘em to him.”

You sighed, opening up the bottle and taking two pills out. You turned back and handed them to Charles, giving him a sympathetic smile. Charles took them and tossed them into his mouth before getting a drink.

“I wanna see it,” Logan said, looking at Charles.

Charles made a noise as he opened his mouth and stuck his tough out for Logan to see. Logan took the bottle from you, threw it into the consul, and then slammed it shut. You sighed, so much for the happiness that the small wedding brought. Logan glanced over at you as you stared out the window. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered. “On edge.”

“Clearly,” you replied, turning to face him. “Can you try not to be mad at anyone in this car? The rest of the world, sure, but those in this truck are off limits. Got it?”

“Only for you.” He kissed the back of your hand again.

“Whipped,” Charles muttered.

“Have something to tell the class Professor?”

“Nothing.”

Your group fell into a calm silence for a few moments until one of the auto-semi-trucks moved too close to your truck.

“Motherfucking auto-trucks!” Logan exclaimed.

“Language, Logan,” scolded Charles. “And you’re screaming at a machine.”

“Oh, what? She can gut a man with her feet, she can’t hear a few naughty words, huh?”

“She can learn to be better.”

“You mean, better than me?”

“I’m sure that’s not—“

“Actually, yes,” Charles interrupted you.

You knew Charles wasn’t totally in his right mind, but you wished he could fully realize how much his words affected Logan.

“And, by the way,” continued Charles, “Laura’s foot claws are the obvious result of her gender, you know.”

“Is that a fact?” Logan asked.

“In a pride of lions, the female is both hunter and caregiver.”

“Good to know.”

“She uses her front claws for hunting and the back claws defensively.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan’s sarcasm was clear.

“Thus, ensuring their survival.”

Laura watched this—and every— interaction with curiosity and caution. It was clear to her that her comics were right about somethings. One being that the Wolverine was tough and hostile, but had a soft side for those he cared about. Especially for you. Though the comics Nurse Gabriela had shown her did not do the love you two shared any justice, both the good and the bad. Laura could tell that Logan didn’t know how exactly to deal with Laura and who she was, but she could tell that the hostility was dying, though extreme slow. Laura knew that was thanks to you. As she continued to watch and listen, you looked back to check on her. You shot her a soft smile. Laura wanted to give you one in return, but she really didn’t know how, so she opted for a nod and to turn back to the window.

Just then, an auto-truck honked and began to move over to the lane that your truck was in without even waiting. Logan was forced to swerve quickly, driving into oncoming traffic. Laura held onto Charles trying to keep him steady while you gripped the handle near your door and the middle consul. Logan maneuvered through the oncoming traffic until there was a clearing and he could turn around, coming to a harsh stop. He looked around, noticing that everyone was clearly shaken up.

As the four of you tried to calm down, you watched as a truck pulling a horse trailer stopped across the road. The horse trailer had been knocked open in the incident, with the horses running out. A young man and his parents got out of the truck, rushing to get the horses off the road.

“We should help them,” Charles suggested.

“No, we have to keep going,” Logan retorted. “Someone will come along.”

“Someone has come along.”

Logan looked your way, wanting to know your thoughts.

“I think it would do us some good to help someone else right now,” you told him.

With a sigh, Logan drove the truck across the lanes of traffic and parked it in front of the other truck. Charles rolled down the window and closed his eyes as you and Logan exited the truck. You watched as the horses all came back over and lined up in the trailer. Logan looked back over at Charles with a angry look. You caught it, slipping your hand into Logan’s and giving it a light squeeze. Laura slipped out of the car and stood a bit behind you two.

“Hey, uh, you need a hand?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” the woman replied. “Our truck is stuck. After we get the horses in, we could really use some help getting it out.”

Once the horses were in the trailer, the woman got into the driver’s seat and turned on the truck to help reverse it. Logan and her husband got in front to push it while the son was helping from the side. Once they were all set, they started moving the truck back.

“Ah, good,” the husband patted the front as soon as the truck had moved to a good spot, “got it. Come on, let’s get home.”

“Laura! Y/N!” Logan called. The two of you were standing near the trailer, Laura looking at the horses.

“Thank you so much for your help,” the woman said. “I’m Kathryn.” She reached out her hand.

Logan shook it. “James.”

“This is my son, Nate.”

“Hi,” Nate said.

“Hey,” Logan responded.

“Is that your wife and daughter?” Kathryn asked.

“Uh, yeah, thats, uh—“

“I’m Y/N,” you walked up to Kathryn, “his wife. That’s our daughter Laura.”

“Yeah, and that’s my dad, Chuck,” Logan pointed to Charles in the truck, who waved. “Come on, Laura, let’s go.”

“Well, can we show our appreciation and treat the four of you to a decent meal?” Kathryn wondered. “We don’t live far from here.”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“That would be lovely!” Charles exclaimed.

You stifled a giggle at the look Logan shot Charles. You walked over to Logan and took his hand. “As long as we aren’t a bother,” you told Kathryn.

“Of course not,” she said. “Just follow us home.”

~~~

“I don’t like this,” Logan grumbled as the table was being set. “We need to keep moving.”

“Logan, it’s just one night,” you told him. “No one would suspect us to stop somewhere like this.”

“Still.”

“Everybody, have a seat,” Kathryn said.

“James, why don’t you sit at the end of the table?” Will, Kathryn’s husband, suggested.

Will sat on one end while Logan took the opposite seat. Kathryn and Nate took one of the longer sides, while Charles, Laura, and you took the other.

“You wanna say grace?” Kathryn asked. “Say grace, baby.”

“Uh, thank you, God, for this food,” Nate said, “and for our new friends, the Howletts.

“Mmm. They came to our aid. Amen.”

“Amen,” you joined in with the rest in saying it.

Everyone began eating. Logan noticed quickly that Laura was stuffing the food into her mouth using her hands. He reached over and handed her, her fork. The bowl of corn got passed to her and she quickly began scooping. Logan took the bowl away before she could take it all. You bit your lip as you noticed how the others were watching you all.

“Oh, there’s plenty more if she wants,” Kathryn offered.

“She’s fine,” Logan said. “Thank you.”

“This is delicious,” Charles said.

“Oh, thank you,” Kathryn responded.

“It’s so good.”

“Where are you all headed?” Will asked.

“Uh, Oregon,” Logan said at the same time that Charles said, “South Dakota.”

“Well, Oregon and then South Dakota,” Charles corrected.

“Vacation?” Kathryn wondered.

“Uh, yes. Uh, long overdue. We’re city folk. Always wanted to take a road trip, see the country. And meet the people in it.”

“Well that sounds lovely. Been trying to get Will here to take a vacation for years now.”

“If we go traipsing all over the country, who’s gonna take care of this place?” Will retorted.

“Exactly. I say, let it go.”

“And live off what?”

“The Lord will provide.”

“I”m still waiting for the Lord to provide me with a new thresher.”

“All the same, I’d love to travel someday.”

“And I bet, you will,” Charles told her.

“I could drop out of school,” Nate offered.

“Okay, let’s not go that far,” Kathryn said.

“I mean, I’ll do it.”

“No, no.”

“Why not? You wanna travel, I wanna travel.”

“Son, son.”

“That sounds good to you, right?” Will asked.

“It’s the perfect plan,” said Nate.

“Why oddly you want to do that, Nate?” Charles wondered.

“Careful,” Logan spoke up, “you’re speaking to a man who ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?”

“Really?” Will asked.

“Yes, it was a… it was a special needs school,” Charles said.

You tried not laugh at his description.

“Uh-huh. That’s a good description,” Logan smirked.

“He was there, too,” Charles pointed at Logan. “In fact, these two both were.”

“Yeah, I got kicked out a few times.”

“Some of them were by choice,” you spoke up, teasing him.

“I wish I could say you were a good pupil, but the words would choke me,” Charles said.

Everyone laughed, including Logan.

“Not that Y/N was much better,” Charles added.

“Wait, what?” You questioned.

“When Y/N first arrived at the school, she hid and refused to participate. Took me years to get her to do anything.”

“Hey, woah. Not years. Maybe one.”

“Whatever.”

The laughter and chatter continued until everyone was full. Logan stood up.

“Ma’am, I can’t thank you enough for this,” he said. “Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so—“

“But you need to rest, don’t you?” Kathryn questioned.

“Yeah, we’ll find a motel somewhere.”

“The nearest one is two hours from here and it’s not even that nice,” Will said.

“We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter if you don’t mind you and your wife sleeping in the living room on the convertible,” Kathryn offered.

“Kathryn, it’s very, very nice of you, but we really should go.”

“We can leave early in the morning,” Charles said. “Break of dawn, as it were.”

Logan looked at you, hoping that you’d side with him. You weren’t going to though. It was nice to interact with others and seem normal for a while.

“Okay,” Logan sighed, “why don’t we wash up, Pop?”

Logan pushed Charles away to the bathroom.

“Would you two like some dessert?” Kathryn offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you replied.

“Of course not.”

“You all have been really kind to my family. Thank you.”

The water coming from the sink suddenly cut in and out.

“Oh, shit!” Will exclaimed.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Nate, go fill up the tub before we lose pressure.”

“They shut if off again,” Kathryn said.

“They are just not going to let this thing go.”

“Well, you might as well handle it now.”

“It can wait till the morning. We just had rain last night.”

“We got four houseguests and a sink full of dishes.”

“Alright, alright.” Will turned to talk to Logan. “The pump station that supplies us is a mile and a half from here. Sometimes it gets itself shut off.”

“By assholes,” Nate added.

“My son is happy to go with you,” Charles offered.

“No, no, no, that’s fine,” Will said as Logan gave Charles a look of unbelief. “The men that do this, sometimes they can be—“

“I can go,” Nate said.

“No,” Kathryn said, “you’ve got homework.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Logan said. “Just, uh, let me get my dad settled.”

He walked over to Charles and picked him up. Your heart broke as you could hear the strain in Logan’s breathing. You took Laura’s hand and followed Logan and Charles up the stairs to the open bedroom. Laura saw Nate in his room and opted to follow him.

“Behave,” you whispered to her with a smile before letting her go.

You peeked into the room, watching Logan get Charles tucked in. He held up a remote.

“Want TV?” Logan asked. “There’s TV here.”

“I’m fine,” Charles breathed out.

“Okay. Get some rest.”

“You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. A home, people who love each other. Safe place. You should take a moment and feel it. It’s been too long since you’ve had that.”

“Yeah It’s great.” You stepped back as Logan came to the door.

“Logan. Logan! You still have time.”

“Charles, the world is not the same as it was. We’re taking a risk hanging around here, you know that. And where we’re going, Eden… it doesn’t exist. Her nurse got it from a comic book. You understand? It’s not real.”

“It is for Laura… It is for Laura.”

“Get some rest.”

Logan walked out of the room, completely shutting the door, to find you there.

“What are we doing, Logan?” You asked quietly. “If you don’t believe that Eden is real, then where are we taking Laura? What are your plans with her?”

Logan sighed, coming up to you and placing his hands on your arms. He ran his hands down until he could hold your hands. “I… I’m trying here.”

“Try harder… for Laura, for Charles… for me. You need to decide if you believe in it and if you’re willing to trust that Eden will be a safe place for your daughter.”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I hope it’s real. For her sake.”

“Then I’ll try a little harder, okay?” You nodded, leaning into Logan. His hands dropped yours to wrap you in a hug. “I won’t be long.”

“Be safe.”

The two of you met for a brief kiss. You walked Logan down the stairs and watched as he and Will headed out to the fields. You saw Kathryn in living room, reading the pull-out bed.

“Thank you, again,” you told her.

“Of course,” she replied. “It seems like you all have had a long journey and need some good rest.”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“The bed’s all ready. Sleep well.”

Then Kathryn walked away. You crawled onto the bed and curled up, thinking of Logan. You heard footsteps just as you were about to fall asleep, the weight was familiar. Your back was facing towards the slow, on coming footsteps.

“Logan?” You whispered quietly, only to receive no verbal response.

A hand fell to your back, moving until it was above your beating heart.

“Logan, what are you—“

Quickly, the hand formed a fist and three metal claws entered your heart. The darkness came instantly.

~~~

When Logan and Will arrived back at the house, Logan went to the truck to try to calm down his coughing. A gunshot and screams had his head snapping in the direction of the house. Logan raced inside the best he could with his limp. Will was at the bottom of the stairs, claw marks through his chest. Logan looked up to see a copy of him—younger and less scarred—carrying a screaming and bound Laura down the stairs. Logan froze, only able to pant and stare as the copy of him walked past him, Laura still screaming.

“Charles!” Logan shouted up the stairs. “Y/N! Charles! Y/N!”

He used the railing to get him up the stairs faster. At the top of the stairs, he found Kathryn dead with Nate at the entrance of Charles’ room. He froze for a moment upon seeing Charles bloody and barely breathing in bed. Blood was running out of Charles’ mouth as he shakily reached for Logan.

When Logan finally broke out from his trance, he rushed over and used some of the bedding to pack Charles’ wound. He maneuvered Charles’ hands to be over the bedding.

“Hold this,” Logan whispered, fear coursing through his veins. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

Logan picked Charles up carefully, still scanning the house for any sign of you. Charles let out a moan as he struggled to keep conscious.

“Just hold on, Charles,” Logan said.

Logan went out the side door and rushed Charles over to the truck, placing him in the bed.

“I’ll be back,” Logan promised, before going back inside. “Y/N! Y/N!”

Suddenly, his nose got whiff of a familiar scent. Your blood. He rushed for the living room, where the pull out bed was out. There was a large bloody stain on it, but no you. There was no sign of your fire or your smoke or your ashes. Logan’s heart hammered in his chest as he continued to find no sign of you in the house. Logan stammered out of the house to hear more screaming and gunshots. He saw his duplicate self killing the men who turned off the water. There was a military grade truck past his duplicate. Logan noticed Laura on the ground but when he his moved, his breath caught in his throat.

They had you in a glass box, like Snow White or a doll. There was blood on you and Logan could tell from where he was standing that you weren’t breathing.

“Charles!” Logan exclaimed quietly. He went back over and pressed on the wounds. “Hold this down, right now, tight!”

“Save them,” Charles whispered. “I’m… sorry…”

“What?”

“Go…” Then Charles heart stopped.

“No.”

Rage grew inside Logan. How dare they create a duplicate version of him and have him kill you and Charles? He had to get to you before they did anything. Suddenly, the military truck blew up, throwing the glass case you were in forward, crashing next to Laura. The glass broke. Logan needed to move fast. He knew that if you went up in flames and your ashes were separated, there would be no coming back for you. He wouldn’t be able to continue on the rest of his short life without you.

Logan snuck up on his duplicate as the duplicate marched towards you and Laura. With each grunt, he plunged his claws into the duplicate. But his copy made no move to fight back, just walking backwards with each hit. Logan plunged both sets of claws into the copy.

“What the hell are you?” He grunted.

The duplicate stabbed Logan in the shoulder and tossed him over to the ground. Logan shielded himself with his claws before the duplicate could do it again. Every muscle and bone was straining with Logan, but he couldn’t stop. Not when you weren’t safe. Logan jumped back up and continued fighting, but the duplicate was better, stronger. The copy kept making hits, causing Logan to yell out in pain.

Eventually, the duplicate had Logan pinned against a large tractor tire. Before it could make the final kill, Will’s truck rammed into the duplicate, pinning it against the fence. Will stumbled out of the truck with his gun, shooting into the duplicate multiple times. Once Will believed the duplicate to be dead, he turned his gun on Logan, but couldn’t do anything before he fell to the ground, dead.

Laura’s shrieking continued as she laid bound beside your dead body. Logan stumbled over to the two of you, bloody and bruised. He knew that you needed to get someplace safe, but he also knew that you would never forgive him for leaving Laura. He grabbed Laura and carried her over to the truck, placing her into the seat next to his before turning to get you.

As he knelt beside you to pick you up, the tears fell. The three punctures over your heart was enough to tell him that his copy had done this to you. He groaned as he picked you up and cradled you against him.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered, like him saying that would wake you. “It wasn’t me.”

He carried you to the truck and slipped you into the back seat. Laura turned around and saw Charles dead in the bed of the trunk and you dead in the back seat. Her shrieking got worse as she fought against her bindings. Logan turned on the truck and sped off into the fields. Laura thrashed around, trying to free herself. With a shaky hand, Logan released his claws.

“Hold still,” he told her, moving the claws over to her cuffs. “Hold still.”

He cut through the bindings and quickly put away his claws, focusing on driving through the field. Laura crawled into the back seat and placed your head on her lap. Logan glanced at her through the rearview mirror, not missing the tear that slipped down her cheek.

next chapter >

79 notes · View notes