#emperor Antoninus

[blueiscoool]

2000-Year-Old Roman Silver Coins Discovered in Sweden

ARCHAEOLOGISTS FROM SÖDERTÖRN UNIVERSITY HAVE DISCOVERED TWO ROMAN COINS DURING A RESEARCH PROJECT ON GOTSKA SANDÖN, AN UNINHABITED ISLAND IN GOTLAND COUNTY, SWEDEN.

During the Roman Period, Svealand (“land of the Swedes”) in central Sweden, was inhabited by a North Germanic tribe. Contact with the Romans was limited, however, archaeological evidence does indicate an emerging trading network in Svealand for the latest Roman fashions.

Archaeologists from the Södertörn University have been conducting excavations on Gotska Sandön as part of a joint project with Campus Gotland and the Gotland Museum.

Excavations revealed silver denarii from the Roman period, including one that depicts the emperor Trajan (AD 98 – 117), and the other, emperor Antoninus Pius (AD 86 – 161).

“These are exciting finds that raise several questions,” says Johan Rönnby, professor of marine archaeology at Södertörn University.

Although the Romans sailed as far as Scotland and documented the Baltic area, there are no historical records of their voyages that describes the island, making it uncertain whether they were the ones who brought the coins there.

The team suggests that the coins could be from a shipwreck on the Sandön coast, where many hearths and remnants of ancient fireplaces have been located. Whether the hearths are associated with a period of settlement on the island or ancient production of seal oil is unknown, but the team plans to return later in the year to investigate further.

“Finds of Roman silver coins are not unusual on Gotland, but they are on Gotska Sandön. This find is interesting because of its location,” adds Daniel Langhammer, officer at the County Administrative Board of Gotland.

[uncleclaudius]

[king-ludwig-ii]

the someone Nerva hit was Domitian probably

[wellington-yueh]

people on the internet constantly fellating marcus aurelius for saying the most obvious shit. if that man had said “don’t kill yourself that shit make you die” sigma male dudebros on reddit would be pissing themselves over how profound it is

[fieriframes]

[THAN LOSE THE TIE, THROW ON THE FLIP-FLOPS. ROCK THE FLIP-FLOPS. SEE, THAT'S HOW YOU ROLL. FARQUHARSON’S THE MEDITATIONS OF THE EMPEROR MARCUS ANTONINUS, 2 VOLS." IF YOU WANT TO FIND THE RECIPES FOR SOME OF THE JOINTS WE VISIT, WELL, GO TO foodnetwork.com.]

[sharkspez]

Tumblr Biography: Julius Caesar 🕊️

🚫 Without an heir, Caesar adopted his 🍼 great-nephew Augustus. But would his chosen successor prove worthy or would he 🗡️ betray Caesar's legacy?

[blueheartbooks]

Reflecting on Stoic Wisdom: A Review of "The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

"The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, translated by George W. Chrystal, offers readers an intimate glimpse into the mind of one of history's most renowned Stoic philosophers and Roman emperors. Composed as a series of personal reflections and philosophical musings, this timeless work serves as a guide to living a life of virtue, resilience, and inner peace. Written during Marcus Aurelius's reign as emperor of Rome in the 2nd century AD, "The Meditations" is a testament to the enduring relevance of Stoic philosophy in navigating the challenges of everyday life.

Chrystal's translation of "The Meditations" preserves the eloquence and wisdom of Marcus Aurelius's original text, allowing readers to delve into the emperor's profound insights with clarity and accessibility. Through Marcus Aurelius's meditations, readers are invited to contemplate fundamental questions of human existence, including the nature of virtue, the impermanence of life, and the importance of cultivating inner strength and resilience in the face of adversity. Whether addressing themes of self-discipline, gratitude, or the acceptance of fate, Marcus Aurelius's timeless wisdom resonates with readers of all backgrounds, offering practical guidance for living a meaningful and fulfilling life.

One of the most compelling aspects of "The Meditations" is Marcus Aurelius's emphasis on the importance of moral integrity and self-awareness. Throughout the text, he encourages readers to cultivate virtues such as humility, kindness, and compassion, while also admonishing against the pitfalls of vanity, greed, and arrogance. By engaging in self-examination and reflection, Marcus Aurelius teaches readers how to align their thoughts and actions with the principles of Stoic philosophy, thereby achieving a state of inner tranquility and contentment.

Moreover, "The Meditations" offers readers a unique glimpse into the inner workings of Marcus Aurelius's mind, revealing the struggles and challenges he faced as both a philosopher and a ruler. From grappling with the transient nature of power and fame to confronting the inevitability of death, Marcus Aurelius's meditations are imbued with a profound sense of humility and wisdom that transcends the boundaries of time and place. As readers immerse themselves in his reflections, they are inspired to confront their own fears and insecurities, while also embracing the inherent beauty and fragility of life.

In conclusion, "The Meditations" translated by George W. Chrystal is a timeless masterpiece of Stoic philosophy that continues to inspire and enlighten readers around the world. Marcus Aurelius's profound insights and timeless wisdom serve as a beacon of light in an often turbulent world, offering solace, guidance, and hope to all who seek to live a life of virtue and purpose. Whether read for its philosophical depth, its practical wisdom, or its profound insights into the human condition, "The Meditations" remains an indispensable companion for anyone on the journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

"The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 18.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 179

Language: English

Rating: 10/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[blueheartbookclub]

Reflecting on Stoic Wisdom: A Review of "The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

"The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, translated by George W. Chrystal, offers readers an intimate glimpse into the mind of one of history's most renowned Stoic philosophers and Roman emperors. Composed as a series of personal reflections and philosophical musings, this timeless work serves as a guide to living a life of virtue, resilience, and inner peace. Written during Marcus Aurelius's reign as emperor of Rome in the 2nd century AD, "The Meditations" is a testament to the enduring relevance of Stoic philosophy in navigating the challenges of everyday life.

Chrystal's translation of "The Meditations" preserves the eloquence and wisdom of Marcus Aurelius's original text, allowing readers to delve into the emperor's profound insights with clarity and accessibility. Through Marcus Aurelius's meditations, readers are invited to contemplate fundamental questions of human existence, including the nature of virtue, the impermanence of life, and the importance of cultivating inner strength and resilience in the face of adversity. Whether addressing themes of self-discipline, gratitude, or the acceptance of fate, Marcus Aurelius's timeless wisdom resonates with readers of all backgrounds, offering practical guidance for living a meaningful and fulfilling life.

One of the most compelling aspects of "The Meditations" is Marcus Aurelius's emphasis on the importance of moral integrity and self-awareness. Throughout the text, he encourages readers to cultivate virtues such as humility, kindness, and compassion, while also admonishing against the pitfalls of vanity, greed, and arrogance. By engaging in self-examination and reflection, Marcus Aurelius teaches readers how to align their thoughts and actions with the principles of Stoic philosophy, thereby achieving a state of inner tranquility and contentment.

Moreover, "The Meditations" offers readers a unique glimpse into the inner workings of Marcus Aurelius's mind, revealing the struggles and challenges he faced as both a philosopher and a ruler. From grappling with the transient nature of power and fame to confronting the inevitability of death, Marcus Aurelius's meditations are imbued with a profound sense of humility and wisdom that transcends the boundaries of time and place. As readers immerse themselves in his reflections, they are inspired to confront their own fears and insecurities, while also embracing the inherent beauty and fragility of life.

In conclusion, "The Meditations" translated by George W. Chrystal is a timeless masterpiece of Stoic philosophy that continues to inspire and enlighten readers around the world. Marcus Aurelius's profound insights and timeless wisdom serve as a beacon of light in an often turbulent world, offering solace, guidance, and hope to all who seek to live a life of virtue and purpose. Whether read for its philosophical depth, its practical wisdom, or its profound insights into the human condition, "The Meditations" remains an indispensable companion for anyone on the journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

"The Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 18.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 179

Language: English

Rating: 10/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[suetravelblog]

Roman Theater, Souks, Eid al-Fitr Amman Jordan

[blueiscoool]

Remains of Ancient Roman Triumphal Arch Unearthed in Serbia

Braving bitter cold and wind, archaeologists in Serbia surveyed the site of an ancient Roman triumphal arch, one of only a handful in the Balkans, that dates back to the third century.

The triumphal arch was discovered in December at the site of Viminacium, a Roman city near the town of Kostolac, 70 kilometers (45 miles) east of Belgrade.

Miomir Korac, the leading archaeologist, said the discovery was made during excavation of the main street of Viminacium, the capital of the Roman province of Moesia.

“This is the first such triumphal arch in this area… It can be dated to the first decades of the third century AD,” Korac told Reuters on Monday.

Viminacium was a sprawling Roman city of 45,000 people with a hippodrome, fortifications, a forum, palace, temples, an amphitheatre, aqueducts, baths and workshops. It existed between the first and sixth centuries.

“When we found square foundational footprints made of massive limestone pieces… there was no doubt that this was a triumphal arch,” Korac said.

A fragment of a marble slab with letters reading “CAES/ANTO” suggested that the arch was dedicated to Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, known as Caracalla, who reigned from 198 to 217 AD.

It is believed that Caracalla was elevated to emperor in Viminacium, said Mladen Jovicic, an archaeologist.

“We are hoping to find more pieces… We have found one finely made pillar, beams, but we would like to find more from the inscription on the arch,” Jovicic said.

Excavations of Viminacium have been going on since 1882, but archaeologists estimate they have only scoured 5% of the site, which they say is 450 hectares — bigger than New York’s Central Park — and unusual in not being buried under a modern city.

Discoveries so far include two Roman ships, golden tiles, coins, jade sculptures, religious items, mosaics, frescos, weapons and remains of three mammoths.

[m1male2]

A marvel of Roman engineering: the Vespasian-Titus tunnel.

Here we have one of the most impressive examples of how well they built in Ancient Rome.

Located in the Turkish province of Hatay, at the foot of the Nur Mountains and a few km from ancient Antioch, it is named after the emperor Vespasian who began the works and was followed by his son and successor, Titus.

Vespasian (reigned 69-79), ordered its construction to channel and divert the waters that came down from the mountain and flooded the city of Seleucia Pieria, an important port located at the mouth of the Orontes River.

It was dug in rock, using chisel and hammer, by slave labor, prisoners and hundreds of legionaries. It is approximately 1,380 m long, and is the longest hand-dug tunnel in the world. The work was so extensive that it lasted until the reign of Antoninus Pius (138-161 AD)

And it is curious that it has survived to this day practically intact.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand they got Babygirl to play him in the movie:

The enigmatic emperor Caracalla. Lucius Septimius Bassianus, renamed Marcus Aurelius Antoninus at age 7, was born on April 4, 188 in Lugdunum, Gaul (Lyon, France). Like 'Caligula', he's known by a nickname rather than his name.

His father, Septimius Severus, became the first Roman emperor of North African origin in 192; His mother, Julia Domna, was a noble lady of Arab origin born in Emesa (Homs, Syria)

Publius Septimius Geta was born in Rome, 11 months after his brother 'Caracalla'. All historical sources claim that they never had a brotherly relationship. According to historians, Geta was more appreciated by the Senate and the people than his brother. Herodian wrote that they constantly fought for any reason and "it was impossible to hide the rivalry between the brothers, although the emperor Septimius tried in vain to keep this from being known".

An unusual empress

Busts of Julia Domna. Photos :Bibi Saint-Pol, and Daderot (CC)

Julia Domna always accompanied her husband in all the campaigns, the reign of Septimius Severus was extremely militarized. She received the title Mater Castrorum (Mother of the legionary camps). She made political decisions directly, something unprecedented in Rome for a woman. After the death of Septimius, Julia Domna was granted the titles: Mater Senatus and Mater patriae (Mother of the Senate, Mother of the Nation), which implied that she, who was now empress mother, continued with her husband's attributes. She was a scholar in Philosophy, and had a notable influence on that subject. She was involved in several architectural projects including the famous Caracalla Baths, enormous work planning by her husband and completed by her son. She was highly respected by the Senate throughout her reign (192-217)

"Let there be peace among you both, pay the army well and forget the rest". -Septimius Severus to his children on his deathbed

'Geta Dying in his Mother's Arms' by Jacques Pajou

Britannia, February of 211: The emperor died of natural causes, accompanied by his family. Caracalla and Geta, aged 22 and 21 were already co-emperors with their father since childhood, but in 211 they had to deal with this alone. As expected, this shared reign did not last even a year.

According to the historian Herodian: "The co-emperors constantly quarreled and feared that one of them would poison the other, so they did not eat at the same table."

Rome, December 27 of 211: 'Caracalla' ordered the execution of Geta, claiming to have discovered that his brother was plotting to assassinate him. The execution carried out by two centurions was in the presence of Julia Domna. Following this he also ordered the execution of all of Geta's supporters, who numbered in the thousands. Among those people were Marcus Aurelius's only surviving daughter, Cornificia, who committed suicide, and Marcus Aurelius's only grandson, son of Lucilla and Pompeianus.

The curious thing is that empress didn't leave her son, and while he was on campaigns, almost all the time, she was busy with political and administrative issues that Caracalla considered "mundane" since for him the most important thing were military matters.

It doesn't matter your ethnicity nor hometown; If you were born in Roman territory so you're a Roman.

In 212 he decreed a revolutionary edict that granted Roman citizenship to every free man and woman living in Roman territory, and from then on every free child born in the Roman Empire was Roman. This was criticized by historians contemporary with him saying it was "to collect more taxes", but modern historians agree that he simply understood what the Roman elite refused to understand. For them, Rome was a city-state and the other territories were the property of Rome; Only those born in the city were Romans, those from southern Italy, and certain privileged people who obtained citizenship. 'Caracalla' was living proof that the Roman elite had an anachronistic vision; being emperor of Rome he was a descendant of Arabs and Berbers, and born in Gaul; Evidently it was no longer the city-estate of the Romans but the capital of a multiethnic world called Rome.

An awesome site

Baths of Caracalla. 3D reconstruction made by team of 'History in 3D'

The Caldarium (sauna) was built in the Pantheon style and the vestibule was in basilica style; Just two simple parts of a baths building were something magnificent in themselves. It was an immense complex that, in addition to the typical cold, warm, and hot baths, dressing room, massage and beauty salons, included two libraries, gym, impressive swimming pools, a stadium with stands, vast gardens, a small museum with exhibitions of works of art, and a shopping center with a wide variety of businesses, from jewelry and clothing stores, restaurants and hair salons.

The Alexandria Massacre

After a trip through the eastern provinces, in December 215 he arrived in Alexandria. The Alexandrians, outraged by the death of emperor Geta, who was more beloved than Caracalla, began to public perform plays of satire mocking Caracalla and in which they called empress mother "Jocasta." According to the famous legend, Jocasta was the mother of Oedipus who, after killing his father, had married his own mother. Upon discovering this his wrath was such that ordered a massive executions. Caracalla attacked the city with his troops for several days, in a kind of personal war against Alexandria.

Unexpected death

Gold medal bust of Caracalla with the shield of Alexander the Great. By Sailko /CC BY 3.0 /wikimedia commons.

In 216 he offered King Artabanus IV of Parthia to marry his daughter, but the king rejected the offer. Caracalla took advantage of this "snub" to start a campaign against the Parthian empire. He began attacking the countryside east of the Tigris. In early 217 he was in Edessa (modern Şanlıurfa,Turkey) preparing to restart the campaign.

On April 8, 217, four days after his 29th birthday, he was traveling to a temple near Carras (Harran, southern Turkey) and when he stopped to urinate, the praetorian soldier Martialis stabbed him to death. According to historical sources, the Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, Macrinus commissioned him to assassination. Martialis was executed immediately after Caracalla's death, and three days later Macrinus proclaimed himself emperor.

Empress Julia Domna was in Antioch, upon learning of the assassination decided to take her own life.

This seems like the end of The Severan dynasty, however it wasn't. Julia Maesa, older sister of Julia Domna, was a strong lady.

In her hometown, Emessa, where Macrino had forced her to return, she took advantage of the fact that it was a place with an important military base. He organized with the legions a war against the usurper Macrinus. She placed his grandson Elagabalus on the throne on May of 218. Macrinus, who had fled to Cappadocia, was executed two months later. After Elagabalus, Alexander Severus would reign until the year 235. From the Severan dynasty only Septimius Severus is considered a good ruler, and all the ladies of this dynasty stand out; specially the sisters Domna and Maesa, as well Julia Maesa's daughters.

"I know that none of you like what I do, that's why I have weapons and troops: so that at no time do I have to worry about what you say about me." -Caracalla to the Senate

Emperor Caracalla. Marble. Acquired from Rome, Italy, in 1875. Altes Museum, Berlin. Photo: Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin FRCP (Glasg) CC BY-SA 4.0- Wikimedia Commons

He is known as 'Caracalla' because that is what the Romans called a Gallic garment with a hood that they say this emperor didn't take off even to sleep.

[dream-world-universe]

Roman Empire, Italy: The Roman expansion in Italy covers a series of conflicts in which Rome grew from being a small Italian city-state to be the ruler of the Italian region… In 200 A.D., Rome had roughly 1,200,000 citizens, and today it has over 2,500,000 residents. Rome started as a small Italian village along the Tiber River roughly 1,100 years before it became the largest city in the world.. Gladiator is loosely based on real events that occurred within the Roman Empire in the latter half of the 2nd century AD… Marcus Aurelius Antoninus better known by his nickname Caracalla was Roman emperor from 198 to 217 AD. Wikipedia

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae: PART III

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima’, was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: oral m receiving, arranged marriage, foul language, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, Ancient Rome as a warning within itself.

notes: i am tired. no big notes today, just the chapter and a huge thanks to @trashmouth-richie for beta’ing for me even though we’re dying and surrounded by the plague.

⟡ Imperator- Septimius Severus

⟡ Augustus- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus “Caracalla”

⟡ Caesar- ⟡ Publius Septimius Geta “Geta”

III

“Brother,” Caracalla chuckled, surrounded by the finest of the court—his beloved whores, concubines, and every fair face that caught his eye—turned to his sibling, “have you laid eyes on my wife?”

Geta, his fingers entwined with his main flame to his right, shook his head slowly. “No, the better question would be: have you seen your wife?”

A silver platter brimming with powder was offered to Caracalla, who eagerly partook, stumbling backward, snorting and sniffling, until he finally crashed into his gilded seat.

“I thought we agreed to save the Rhino’s Horn for Saturnalia,” Geta shot a glance at the bearer of the silver dish, waving them off.

“Why not seize the day, brother?” Caracalla replied, “Father has departed for uncle’s villa, my wife is… well, lost to me at the moment, but that matters not. Let us enjoy these days of luxury.”

The two had been drunk for much of the day, with Caracalla lost in a haze of whatever was handed to him: Devil’s Breath, opium, Rhino’s Horn—none mattered. If it was offered, it was his. Geta, however, stayed pleasantly tipsy on sweet wine, his cup never empty, his tongue loosening enough to spill secrets like a river.

“Brother, I must share something with you.” Geta’s gaze met Caracalla’s, who leaned in, all ears.

Caracalla clapped his hands, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “At last, something of interest! Amuse me, brother.”

“Gracchus’s wife,” Geta began, “on the night of your wedding, her lips were wrapped so divinely around my cock.”

Caracalla nodded, interrupting, “A wondrous thing, indeed.”

Geta pressed on, “And Prima came to my chambers, asking to help you to bed while you were busy with one of your legendary displays.”

This piqued Caracalla’s interest. He sat up straight, eyes locked onto Geta’s face, lips pressed tight, nostrils flaring.

“And?” he urged Geta to continue.

“And, well, I commanded her to stay, to savor the moment.” Geta caressed the cheek of the woman at his side, who purred in delight, momentarily diverting his gaze from his brother.

Caracalla, though not entirely impressed, was curious. He grasped his brother’s arm firmly. “And she complied? She truly remained and watched?”

“Yes,” Geta affirmed with a nod, “who would dare refuse the command of a son of the emperor?”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face before he leaned down and whispered to one of the servants who knelt before them, awaiting his command.

It wasn’t long before you made your entrance into the chamber, a mix of confusion and acceptance washing over you at being summoned after a week of silence. You stood before the two brothers, maintaining a stoic expression while disregarding the crowd surrounding them, who now beheld the new Augusta. Most gazed at you in wonder, some wore expressions of intrigue, while others looked as if they were ready to eat you, relishing every moment they stood in your presence.

“Has someone died?” Caracalla asked, his brow furrowed as he took in your appearance from head to toe.

The toga you donned was a careful choice. Its deep black hue a sign of mourning, a garment you had worn through various times of grief. The black veil draped softly over your shoulders, trailing down the back of your dress and nearly brushing the floor, swaying gently with the warm breeze that flowed in from the balconies on either side. You adorned yourself with jewels—a delicate headpiece that held the veil in place, a gift from the Imperator himself, paired with his late wife's stunning collection of rubies that gleamed on your fingers. A golden cuff encircled your bicep, intricately designed with fine lines weaving a lace-like pattern, complemented by matching earrings and your family’s cherished wrist cuffs, passed down through generations.

“No one that I know of,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. “I just figured that if I dressed the part, perhaps the gods would take notice of my urgent prayers and send me off to the underworld with haste.”

A chorus of gasps filled the room, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning.

Caracalla staggered over, getting right in your face.

“Everyone, out!” he barked, his eyes locked on yours. When no one moved, he shouted, “Get out or live to regret it!” That was all it took for the crowd to scurry away like frightened mice.

“Tell me,” he said, dragging a finger down the bridge of your nose—an odd move, but on-brand for Caracalla, “did it make your cunt throb to see my brother getting his cock sucked?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Do not talk to me about implied infidelities when you’re surrounded by people the likes of which do not even make a good meal for a dog.”

Caracalla's expression shifted to a dangerous glint, his lips curling into a smirk. “Ah, so we’re playing at words now, are we? You think you can wound me with your tongue? I have better plans for that mouth of yours.”

“Brother,” Geta said, rising to his feet, “don’t do something you’ll come to regret.”

Caracalla pulled a dagger from his belt, pointing it at Geta. “You’ll sit down and keep your mouth shut, brother.”

And there you were, caught in the middle of two prideful men, like a sweet nectar drawing them in.

Geta lifted his hands in a gesture of defense, retreating toward his chair in defeat.

“On your knees, wench!” Caracalla bellowed, fury blazing in his eyes like a stormy sky.

Your gaze flickered to Geta, but Caracalla, with the edge of his sword pressed against your cheek, forcefully turned your head to face him.

“Is it not enough that you dared to speak with him? Must you also look upon him in my presence?” Caracalla whined, his naturally raspy voice sounding even more gravelly in his drug addled state.

“Are you deaf?!” he roared, “On your knees!”

You felt the cold of the sword as it slid from your cheek to your neck, pressing firmly against your carotid. With a heavy heart, you sank to your knees, shame washing over you.

As you gazed up at him, angry tears welled in your eyes. The golden laurel wreath tangled in his wild hair sat crookedly above his brows, as he looked down at you with a wild glint.

“Show me how well Gracchus’s wife treated my dear brother!” he cackled, delighting in the raunchiness of his demand.

“Absolutely not,” you spat through clenched teeth, attempting to rise once more, only to be met with his rough hands shoving you back down against the cold marble.

“Must I flog you for your insolence?!” he howled, spit flying from his lips, “Must I?!”

“Not here,” you pleaded, all pride abandoned as your knees ground into the cold marble, “Not like this.”

“Just like this,” he replied, smirking down at you as he pulled back his flowing robes to reveal his hard cock.

“Come on,” he flicked his tip against your lips, “open up for me.”

With angry tears stinging your eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, his velvet tip sliding past your lips, brushing heavily against your tongue.

“Should you dare use your teeth against me, I’ll have them knocked from your jaw with the hilt of my sword. Rome has no place for a wild, toothless harlot.”

He carelessly rolled his hips toward your face, swaying unsteadily with each thrust as you fought back the bile rising in your throat. When you didn’t please him the way he wished, he fucked your face with such fervor that he nearly lost his balance. You gagged as hot tears streamed down your cheeks, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth like a hungry dog.

“You must not have impressed her with your little show, brother,” he bellowed over his shoulder, gripping the roots of your hair, chuckling as you gagged even harder, pressing your nails into his thighs for fear you might topple over. “I have had better pleasure alone.”

He continued his brutal assault until finally he pulled you snug to the base of his cock, letting out a guttural groan, his legs nearly giving way beneath him as he released his hot seed into your mouth.

He stumbled back, shaky hands letting you go, but not fast enough to dodge the glob of cum you spat at his feet.

“You stupid whore—” he screamed, reaching for his sword again, but Geta grabbed him.

"‘Enough, brother,’ Geta commanded, gesturing toward the door. At once, two guards rushed in, seizing Caracalla, wrestling the blade from his grip, placing it firmly in Geta's hand.

A smirk crept across your lips as you met Caracalla's furious gaze, his struggles useless against the guards' hold. You wiped the last traces from your mouth, unflinching, while he spat threats of every punishment under the sun. His voice faded into the distance, growing fainter with each step as the guards dragged him away.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As soon as you stepped into your chambers, you snatched up a decorative vase, your stomach churning from the memory of his touch as you unceremoniously emptied its contents into the vase. A pang of guilt washed over you for the poor servant who would later have the misfortune of clearing it out, but you quickly brushed it aside; purging any trace of Caracalla from your system took precedence above all else.

As you crossed the threshold to the adjoining balneum, the air was thick with steam, a sensation that caused you to groan in pleasure. The gentle sound of water splashing filled the space while the frescoes adorning the walls told stories of playful nymphs dancing amongst the clouds lost amongst a blue sky. The buff marble floor cooled your feet, contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

The bathing area itself featured a large, sunken pool, its waters shimmering under the soft glow of oil lamps. To one side, a small fountain trickled water into a basin, where fresh rose petals floated, adjacent to a nearby selection of oils: patchouli, lavender, rosemary, their scents mingled in the heady, warm atmosphere. A strigil and pumice stone awaited on a shelf built into the wall, along with fine linen towels, and cloths, all carefully placed for your use.

With a soft sigh, you dipped your toes into the inviting water, allowing the robe you had worn in to drop to the marbled floor behind you. You relished the sensation as you waded in deeper, the water rising to your ankles, then your calves. Each step felt like a release, the warmth washing over you, dissolving the tension that had clung to you throughout the day.

As you reached the center of the pool, the water enveloped you completely. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back as you floated for a moment, allowing the water to cradle you. Everything felt so distant, so unimportant. The world outside faded away, and for a fleeting moment, it was just you and the serenity of the private sanctuary. You let your mind wander, thoughts drifting like the petals floating in the nearby basin.

Reaching for the bottle of patchouli oil resting on the edge of the bath, you poured a small amount into your palm, the rich, earthy scent wafting into the space. With your fingers slicked with the oil, you began to comb it carefully through your hair, taking your time to work out any knots and tame the unruly strands. Once satisfied with your hair, you took a fine cloth, its texture soft as silk against your skin, and began to bathe yourself with the perfumed oil.

With deliberate movements, you sloshed water along your body, enjoying the feeling of it cascading over your skin like a gentle waterfall. When you were ready, you dove under the water once more, the coolness contrasting deliciously with the warmth of the oil. As you rinsed yourself, you felt the excess oils wash away, the strigil waiting nearby for the final touch.

“Domina.” The tranquil moment shattered as one of your newly assigned servants peeked through the ornate doorway, her voice breaking the soothing silence.

“What is it?” you asked, trying to stall for just a moment longer.

“You’ve been summoned.”

Of course you had. It only made sense that your peaceful escape would be interrupted. You emerged from the water, droplets glistening on your skin, and caught the nervous gaze of the servant as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Come inside,” you beckoned her, and she hesitantly approached, holding out a towel like it was a fragile offering.

“Do you know how to use a strigil?” you asked, and she nodded, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

“Very well.” You dried your face with the towel, then reached for the strigil and handed it to her. “Quickly.”

With shaky hands, she began to scrape off the excess oils.

“What is your name?” you asked, trying to ease the tension as she glided the strigil along your shoulder.

“Cassia,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Cassia,” you repeated, letting the name linger in the air. “Is it Caracalla or Geta requesting me?”

“Neither, Domina,” she paused, placing the strigil back in its assigned place. “It is the Imperator.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You quickly slipped into a sleeping gown—something informal yet appropriate for the presence of the Imperator. Cassia’s hands trembled slightly as she helped you into the nightgown made of fine, onyx silk. She draped a matching robe over your shoulders, guiding your arms into the sleeves with a gentleness that put you at ease. The fabric glided down your arms, flowing behind you like a shadow as you moved to comb your damp hair away from your face.

“I believe it would be nice if you left your hair down to dry,” Cassia suggested meekly, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the looking glass.

“I can braid it when you return. It is not wise to make the Imperator wait.” Her eyes told a story, hinting at the consequences of such delays, as if she had witnessed them firsthand.

“Very well,” you agreed, sensing the urgency in her tone. “Lead me there.”

Cassia walked quickly ahead, navigating through the maze of twists and turns that made up the opulent palace. The gilded walls shimmered under the flickering sconces, casting warm glows on the marble flooring. You passed by frescoes depicting grand tales of valor and myth, the ornate pieces of art adorning each wall, their beauty almost distracting you from the nervous feeling that swirled in your gut.

Finally, you arrived at an imposing set of doors, intricately carved and adorned with symbols befitting the Imperator’s status. Cassia hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a mix of awe and fear. “I’ll wait here, Domina.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped forward. The doors swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond.

“Prima,” Septimius spoke from across the room, his voice smooth yet commanding. You crossed the threshold, your heart quickening as you made your way toward him. He sat at a side table, a decanter of wine glistening under the moonlight that spilled through the billowing curtains beside the table, casting soft shadows along the table and its contents.

“Thank you for joining me,” he said, standing to pull out a chair for you. You took your seat, the silk of your robe whispering against the chair as you settled in.

“Of course, Imperator,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. You studied his face, searching for clues about his intentions. Septimius possessed an air of authority, his graying hair slightly tousled, and his sharp features illuminated by the silvery light.

He poured a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling as he filled it, and then slid it across the table toward you. “A toast, Prima. To new beginnings.”

You accepted the glass, “To new beginnings,” you echoed, raising the glass slightly before taking a sip. As you caught his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passed in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “how do you find your new role here? The palace can be overwhelming, even for those accustomed to such grandeur.”

You considered his question carefully, weighing your words. “It is… a lot to take in,” you admitted.

“As to be expected,” he assured you, his gaze unwavering. “How are things with your new husband?”

“May I be bold, Imperator?” you asked, setting your glass down with a gentle clink, smoothing the fabric of your robe against your thighs to calm the tension that had begun to build within you.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, his expression encouraging.

You took a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “I believe I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know how things have been going.” You reached for the glass of wine again, taking a sip to wet your drying, anxious mouth.

Septimius leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his features. You spotted Geta right away in him, the way his eyes were shaped and how he looked at you like you were the most confusing thing in the world that he sought to understand. But Caracalla was there too—his fingers digging into the armrest, his middle and pointer fingers tapping an offbeat rhythm against the leather. Caracalla's fierce gaze matched Septimius’s as well as his wild curls, both full of intensity.

“True enough. The palace is a place of whispers, and my son’s reputation precedes him. Yet I am interested in your perspective—how you truly feel about your situation.”

“May I ask what brought you back early from your trip to Baiae?” you asked, genuinely curious about the reason for his fast return.

“Word travels fast,” he leaned in, lowering his voice. “I—” he paused, selecting his words with care, “am aware of what transpired earlier today.”

You nodded, a wave of shame washing over you as you pictured someone recounting the scene to the Imperator.

“I also know that you and Caracalla have not shared a bed since your wedding night.”

“I…” you sighed, “truly am doing my best. It’s just that he and I are two very different people, and I’m trying to navigate the ocean of differences between us.” You explained, your tone almost pleading.

Carefully, he slid a familiar piece of parchment your way. No need to touch it; you knew well what it said.

“How did you come by that?” you asked, brow furrowed.

“Never mind that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Do the words in this letter truly speak to your feelings?”

With a weary sigh, you opened it, your fingers dancing along its edges.

“If you wished me dead, you could’ve driven the blade yourself.” The words were yours, penned to your father a few days prior, when you felt as if being married to Caracalla was a death sentence, when tensions were at a high and you needed someone to hear you.

“It was confiscated before it left the palace,” he replied, his gaze steady as it met yours over the parchment.

“May I ask who thought it wise to spy on me and read my letters?” You laid the parchment flat, smoothing out the creases.

“You may not.” His expression was as stoic as a statue.

“I feel as if I’m being set up to fail, Imperator, as if your son wishes to see this marriage crumble, and I’ll be cast aside when I inevitably fail in my duties.” You spoke the truth plainly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“When he was, I don’t know,” he sighed, “seven or eight, we campaigned through Syria and up into the Taurus mountains.”

You leaned in, sitting up straighter, eager for him to continue.

“And I remember him shouting, ‘I’ve found another three!’ I turned around, and there he was, standing among a sea of headless corpses, yelling when he found one with its head still on. He took such joy in it; it became a sort of game for him.”

“Isn’t that what a man wants? A son who isn’t squeamish about death and war?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Of course, but not one who brings that chaos within his own walls, in his own home.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out with a weary sigh.

“And Geta,” he closed his eyes, “maybe I wasn’t hard enough on him. Maybe I learned my lesson with Caracalla. Maybe Geta is just his mother’s son.” He waved a hand dismissively, letting out a heavy sigh. “But none of this is your worry.”

He stood, and you followed, walking with him to the grand doors.

“Go and rest. After tonight, all will be well.”

You turned to question him, to ask what the gods had happened between the two of you and why it had become your concern even if he had assured you it wasn’t, but the doors swung shut before you could speak. You exchanged a bewildered glance with Cassia before heading back to your chambers.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not long after, the harsh sound of screaming pulled you from your thoughts. You followed the noise, retracing Cassia’s steps from earlier in the night, until you stumbled into Geta’s chest as he stood by the entrance to his father’s chambers.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. You peered around him, drawn to the chaos behind the door.

“I heard the shouting and got worried,” you replied. “What’s happening?”

“None of your business.” He looked down at you, his expression cold.

“Back to your rooms,” he ordered, waving you away.

“You will take your wife back into your quarters immediately!” came the booming voice of Septimius. A loud crash echoed, and you and Geta exchanged alarmed glances.

“Perhaps you should show me some respect for the title you’ve given me,” Caracalla shouted back.

“Perhaps you should earn that title, boy,” Septimius seethed.

Another crash followed, accompanied by the sound of shuffling.

“You are only Augustus and emperor of Rome by my say, Marcus! I am your father and your emperor,” Septimius continued, his voice cutting through the chaos. “I will strip you of every title and give it to your brother, who might actually appreciate it!”

Geta’s ears perked up, and a flicker of hope crossed his face as he looked toward the door.

But Septimius’s next words dashed his hopes. “Perhaps I’ll take your wife into my quarters and father a son with her. A new line of succession could be just what Rome needs.”

Another crash echoed, and grunts erupted from behind the doors.

“Look at you, bleeding like a woman,” Septimius mocked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you bled between your legs like one.”

The grand doors swung open, and Caracalla stormed toward you, his face smeared with blood. When he spat a crimson splash at your feet, you instinctively jumped back. He rushed past you, exchanging a quick glance with Geta.

“Do not follow him,” Geta warned, his voice low and tense.

But you didn’t heed his warning.

You navigated through winding hallways, twisting and turning until you reached Caracalla's chamber. He had thrown the doors open, pacing like a caged beast, blood streaming down his face.

“Get the hell out!” he bellowed, sending everything from the side table crashing to the floor.

“I refuse,” you shot back, firmly closing the door behind you.

“You went and lied to my father,” he hissed, stalking toward you like a predator. “You treacherous snake!”

“I did nothing of the sort!” you yelled back, your voice rising with anger. “He knew before he called for me.”

As he approached, the full extent of his injuries became clear. His nose was smashed, blood pouring from it, and his lip was split wide open. You roamed about his room scouring for supplies to clean him with until you found a few plain cloths on his dressing table.

“Sit.” You were shocked when he followed the command, sitting on the side of the bed, brow pinched at the way you had spoken to him.

“We must work together until I’m with child,” you said, as he winced a bit when you pressed a clean cloth against his split lip. “Then, once a son is born, you can send me off to whatever warm rock you fancy.”

“But first,” you said as you settled beside him on the bed, “we need to stop this bleeding.”

He placed his hand over yours, pressing down harder against his lip, a silent agreement forged in a simple touch.

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Tag list:

@alwaysahiccupandastrid

@justnobodynothingmore

Dividers:

@ghoulbloggerrr

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part 3

Summary: Belonging to Geta

Notes: Tried to make reference to Ancient Roman times with locales, possible hairstyles and practices kept with their slaves.

Domus: Home, Triclinium: A room with three sofa/cushions where they could lounge and eat.

Warning: mention of ownership.

“You will be dressed and groomed accordingly, while here in Rome and elsewhere.”

“What if I don’t wish to be owned by you?”

Your father remarked once before you had been plucked up and brought here that your quick tongue would get you in trouble.

His eyes slid over you, his brow furrowed. “Are you refusing me?“

“No, sire. I was curious.”

He shook his head. “You are feisty.” He shrugged. “If you are too rebellious I’ll have you sent to an island.”

Your heart felt like it stilled, as you immediately glanced over at him. A chuckle poured from his lips once again.

A chill raced down your back.

You immediately knelt. “Sire, thank you for what you are about to bestow on me.” You swallowed. “My curiously got the better of me and took ahold of my tongue.” You glanced up at him. “I hope I will be of a good value.”

“I knew you were smart.” He turned, the fabrics of his toga blurred in the flickering candles. “Now follow me.”

You lingered for a few breathes, looking around one final time at the room that had been your home. Home, a notion you wondered if it even mattered any longer.

*******

As the sun came through the small window you awoke. Blinking you remembered everything from the night before. It had felt like a vision. But as you saw the finery you knew it had all happened.

You stretched, you sat up and glanced around. Not terribly sure what was expected.

Your door opened then. An older woman, came in. You vaguely remembered she was the one who ushered you to this space.

“Time to prepare you to be with our emperor.”

You nodded.

*******

Your heart beat heavily in your chest. You had been bathed, then oiled and your hair was twisted and twined. A fairly new scent clung to you.

In a season or two before, you were certain that it had possibly drifted by your nose once or twice prior while serving the ladies, that gifted the ability to address your sire or his General directly without the fear of punishment. It was very pleasing. The lady grooming you, had said it was came from lilies and violets.

The fabrics now that now hung and were draped on you were so soft, you barely felt them. You touched them absently almost to reassure yourself that you were in fact clothed. You did notice the same broach Geta gave you the night before sat on your shoulder, once again at the apex of the cloth.

A swirl of excitement was about you as them she finally brought you to the tricinium.

Geta, was already lounging and in the middle of eating grapes. He looked at you through hooded eyes. A half smile curled his lips briefly.

“Aelia.” He nodded. “I am very pleased.”

Reaching, he snatched one of the smaller bunches of grapes. You had never seen them so plump.

He held it out. “Here. We won’t need you till I am ready to leave for the senate.”

“As you wish, sire. Thank you.”

It was the first you had heard of her having a name. All you knew her as was Antoninus, since she belonged to Geta and Caracalla. The thought then filled you that Caracalla wasn’t there.

“Are you going to just stand there? Are you not hungry?”

“Sire,” You looked down at floor near him. “I wasn’t sure what you would wish of me.”

“I told you. You can look at me.”

You did as he said, your stomach churned. Looking at him here without the crown or the distractions of others or any of the fights, your realized the curls on top his brow were the same shade of a sunset you had once seen as a child. Very rich and beautiful shade of reds and oranges.

“You may have some of this.”

He nibbled on a few more grapes. You were eager to try one.

“I suggest having a fair amount, you will accompany me to a session of the senate. They do carry on quite a bit and there will nothing that is until dusk.”

“Thank you.”

Grabbing a plate, you chose some fruits especially a few of those plump grapes, fruits and other things, you had always been tempted by but knew had been forbidden for you. It was almost too much. It made you pause as you took the demure posture, you had once see a respected lady take one of the bolsters.

“Your tongue until now is unsophisticated. Though, I will assure you the cook is very good. Nothing should be terribly unpleasant.”

Finally, you took one of the grapes. It was crisp and sweet. Your eyes grew and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over at him.

His eyebrows were raised. “I do hope I read that as enjoyment.”

“Yes, yes sire. Very much.”

“Good.”

You could just hear as he nibbles over your own as you continue to try more and more of the foods on your plate.

“You are like a child during a festival.”

You stopped and felt warmth fill your cheeks. “I am sorry, sire you wanted a woman.”

“Don’t be silly. It is amusing to see tides of your humors. Too many are in control of theirs.”

“Keep your hands off of me. I wanted these blemishes gone.” Screeched a voice.

You sat up, as the scratchy voice of Carcalla. He was always annoyed unless a touch more of wine was in him. Or he was seeing a particularly bloody fight in the Colosseum.

The door clanged open.

An indiscernible sound came from Caracalla.

You barely caught a glance at the broach that held the fabrics of his toga on him when you looked down.

“Geta, brother. I knew you took her as your own. But does she have to be in the tricinium with us?”

You inhaled. Perhaps Geta, would now realize what he was doing. All of which you still were sure what he had in his thoughts for you.

“Yes. She will. She is mine to do with as I please. Right now, we are eating.”

“I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to. Her presence at the moment pleases me and that is all that matters.”

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade

[thepascalparadox]

The Echoes Between Us

Those who bear great responsibility must be willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of others.

Aemilia Aurelia, the sole daughter of Rome’s reigning emperor, Antoninus Justus, is resolute in her desire to be a Domina remembered for her compassion, grace, and unwavering devotion to her people.

Marcus Aurelius, a general of Rome's mighty legions, has pledged himself wholly to the service of the empire. His life is a tribute to duty—he would lay it down without hesitation for his comrades, his emperor, and the imperium he holds sacred.

Neither of them had dared to dream of love’s tender joy. Aemilia, bound by the chains of duty, knows her marriage is but a tool for political alliance, not the sanctuary of affection. Marcus, hardened by the burdens of command, has vowed to keep his heart as barren as fallow earth, so his focus in battle do not falter.  

To some, may be a burden. To them is an honor, a sacrifice gladly embraced. And yet, it took but a single glance, and everything changed. Chapter One - Beyond the Window

Chapter Two - Everything Feels...

Chapter Three - Echoes of Us

Chapter Four - Duty

Chapter Five - Everything Changes

Chapter Six - Away

Chapter Seven - Princess of Nowhere

Chapter eight- Responsability Above All Chapter Nine - A Fragile Bubble Chapter Ten -

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Author notes: please be kind! It is my first fic, English is not my mother language, and to be honest I don't know if will write something big! To give some "guidance": I really don't like the Y/n stuff, but maybe I'll put it in the first person? Not sure yet.  I'll try to do some Marcus's POV because it will be important to their story. I'll definitely put smut on these because I love it too, and I hope to make it very romantic. But there will be slow burn! Is what a had in mind since the beginning, so I'll be loyal to that. 

I'll try to be poetical as well because it is the only way I see Marcus behaving.

The Original Character has no specific physical description!! She has her physical abilities like Lucila in the movie like her gracious way of walking, long hair (no color specific yet) but a little shorter than the actress. 

Please, if you feel like you can KINDLY help me with the grammar and such, direct me! I know I need help, and I'm also very open to learn. But anything disrespectful I will ignore and know that it won't affect me (therapy in check!) That's it! I'm very excited to develop the character and maybe do something that will be remembered like I do to so many fics in here!