#emperor caracalla x oc

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter III)

…in which we learn that Caracalla doesn’t share his toys

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, insanity + hard drugs is not the best combo

word count: 3k words

chapter I

chapter II

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

She had become gaunt, nervous, and irritable. Anxiety and fear had taken over her completely.

Seeing his wife in such a state, Tiberius allowed her to skip the next day of the games, leaving her alone to pace her chambers like a trapped mouse.

Her mind was spinning with questions and panic. Who knew that the emperor had dishonored her? The Praetorians? The servants? Had that slave girl told them why exactly Emperor Caracalla had locked himself in the family altar with her?

But above all, she feared the possibility that the emperor’s seed might take root. If it did, the child she bore would be a constant reminder of her disgrace, tormenting her soul with every passing moment.

Her relief was overwhelming when, the next morning, she woke to a sharp pain in her stomach and saw a bloodstain on the sheets.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Cassandra felt joy—a foolish joy, but joy nonetheless! No matter what the emperor had done to her, the gods had spared her.

The following week passed in solitude. No one bothered her, no one forced her to leave her chambers, attend the games, or endure the feasts. Soon, she’d go home and forget about Caracalla’s wild blue eyes, his hot hands, and the scent of his oils and powders.

But all good things come to an end. As soon as she felt better, Tiberius expected her to play the role of the dutiful wife again. She could still refuse him in bed, but attending the feast was non-negotiable.

"Half the games have already passed. You can’t spend the rest of the time hidden away like a recluse!" His frustration was clear. "Rumors are already spreading about your illness—and about my failure as a husband!"

The anger that flared up inside her at his words was something new.

"Oh, you’ve failed, believe me" she thought furiously. "If you hadn’t, you’d have noticed the bruises on my body or the way another man’s eyes were devouring your wife."

But she said nothing, simply pressed her lips together and let the servants dress her. Now, knowing whose clothes she was wearing, Cassandra felt a strange dread. Why did the emperor insist she wear his late mother’s clothes? Why had he taken her by his father’s ashes? The only answer she could come up with was madness—a madness that seemed to be eating away at the young emperor’s mind.

She wasn’t used to the noise of the crowd anymore. She had forgotten how oppressive it felt, surrounded by the finely dressed nobles.

"Ah, my dear, you look as pale as a ghost. How are you feeling?"

Lucilla was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for her.

Tiberius had left them alone to join the other senators, and Lucilla gently stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes with concern.

"Has your husband been treating you poorly?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.

For a moment, Cassandra wanted to tell her everything—about the pain, the violence, the fear. But instead, she shook her head.

"It’s fine, I’m just tired. All of this…" She waved her hand toward the noisy crowd in the throne room. "It’s exhausting."

"It really is exhausting," Lucilla agreed with a soft smile. "The palace isn’t what it used to be… I envy you. At least you can leave once the games are over."

Her heart skipped a beat. What if she didn’t leave the palace? What if Emperor Caracalla wouldn’t let her go? What if he dressed her like one of his slaves in sheer silk, seated her at his feet, and put a golden collar on her?

Cassandra shook her head. That couldn’t happen! Even he wouldn’t dare insult a senator and the entire Senate like that. She held on to that hope.

The hall grew noticeably quieter as the crowd dispersed, making way for the emperors. Instantly, she lowered her head, stepping behind Lucilla, not wanting to meet Caracalla’s gaze. Still, there was an undeniable temptation to glance at him from beneath her lashes, not raising her head or showing any interest. And she couldn’t help it—she watched as they entered the hall.

Geta walked to the right, closer to Cassandra. His stride was broad, his lips pressed tightly together, and he nervously licked them from time to time. Dressed in black from head to toe, pale with dark-lined eyes, he looked both sickly and focused. His laurel-crowned hair was the only bright spot in his appearance.

Swallowing a bitter lump in her throat, she turned her gaze to the other emperor. Oh, he was always different—nothing like his brother!

Cassandra held her breath. Purple and gold. Oh, how she despised that gold! His clothes were embroidered with it, his cloak shimmered with changing shades—lavender, blue, and deep crimson—as though it held the twilight itself. His rings gleamed, catching the light with every movement, and a large earring swayed with the rhythm of his slow steps. Unlike his brother, he moved with a leisurely, almost lazy pace, smiling as he looked through the crowd, knowing all eyes were on him.

And though Emperor Geta was serious, much more thoughtful and responsible, what did it matter if everyone had come just to gawk at a spectacle? Caracalla had given them that spectacle. Cassandra overheard a group of girls nearby whispering in admiration. Oh, he knew he was liked by many, that much she was certain. But she didn’t like him. She hated him with every fiber of her being, and all she wished for him was death.

Both emperors took their seats. A young slave boy brought Caracalla his pet—a little dressed-up monkey, who immediately climbed onto the emperor’s shoulder, burying its tiny hands in his red hair. Caracalla laughed, a thin, piercing laugh, giving the pet a grape and removing his laurels, leaving his hair in fiery disarray. The monkey squealed, tossing the bitten grape aside and turning back to play with its master’s hair. Nearby, Emperor Geta grimaced, clearly displeased by the noise.

The hall buzzed with life again, half the guests fawning over the emperors, while the other half entertained themselves, waiting for their turn to approach the rulers of Rome.

Her husband finally returned to her, flustered and silent. He barely paid attention to her, making her follow him like a shadow as they moved from one important guest to another.

While he was talking to another elderly senator she didn’t know, Cassandra lazily scanned the hall.

And there it was, what she feared and secretly longed to see. Pale blue eyes, veiled in gold and pink, met hers. She forgot how to breathe. Caracalla was still sitting on the throne, lazily leaning back with his legs wide apart, his foot rocking gently from side to side, as he stroked the monkey on his shoulder. Cassandra had expected him to break into a cruel smirk, his eyes narrowing to remind her of the shame he had made her endure… But no, he looked away, completely uninterested, as though he hadn’t even recognized her.

It felt like she had been struck, her body trembling uncontrollably. This wasn’t a game—he wasn’t sly or far-sighted enough to torment her like this. He truly barely remembered her. The foolish little bird hadn’t been in his sight for days, and he had forgotten her like some useless trash. And this was far worse than if he had continued his game of being the caring emperor, pretending to be the dutiful husband.

Here she was, standing before him in his mother’s clothes, her body marked with dark bruises he had left, her pride trampled into the dust. She hated him, and he didn’t even care, continuing to listlessly scan the hall.

Tiberius kept talking, and she kept staring at the emperor, wishing she could kill him at that very moment. Then, once again, she caught his gaze, now sharper, more deliberate. It was the same look he had given her before he took her on the altar. Her palms went clammy. She didn’t know what was worse: the indifference or the recognition. What would he do? Would he take her to a private place and talk once more about forgiveness? About the gifts he could give her?

A white hand, adorned with rings and bracelets, rose, and he motioned with his finger. Cassandra froze. Publicly? He was calling her in front of everyone?

She hesitated, unsure of what to do, but then, from behind her, a tall, slender girl in a silk blue dress stepped forward. Caracalla grinned wider, showing his gold tooth.

He wasn’t calling her. Her cheeks burned as she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. Cassandra knew that girl—Antonia, the daughter of Senator Marcus Lecus. They had spoken a few times when her husband and Antonia’s father discussed the gladiator games. She was a noble Roman girl, an enviable bride, and simply a young, beautiful woman. And it was she who obediently settled onto the emperor’s lap, blushing and laughing as Caracalla whispered something in her ear.

Cassandra saw Antonia’s father in the crowd. He looked confused and pale, unable to protest or interrupt what was unfolding before him. She must have worn the same expression: rage, disgust, and revulsion.

"You have a wonderful daughter, Senator," Caracalla burst in laughter, addressing the now-pale man. "So obedient!"

"Thank you, Caesar," the senator replied with a trembling voice, bowing his head as though he truly believed it. "I’m glad you like her."

"Oh, I certainly do!" That cruel laugh came again as his hand slapped the girl’s thigh. What a disgrace.

"I am grateful, my Emperor," the senator continued to babble.

"So why aren’t you smiling?" Caracalla teased. "Have fun, my dear friend, today I’ll give your daughter a truly precious gift." His voice with a hint of taunting amusement, but the underlying meaning was clear: he would violate her in every way possible, then send her back to her father, degraded, miserable, and possibly pregnant. That’s how it had been with Cassandra. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t even remember her name, but for now, he took pleasure in watching the senator’s forced smile.

Emperor Geta, displeased, rose from his seat and approached his brother, whispering something in his ear while holding his shoulder. To humiliate the Senate in front of everyone was too much, even for him.

"This brainless little bastard has completely lost his mind," Tiberius whispered softly beside her. "If that were my daughter, l'd have killed that effeminate little runt."

Her lips twitched. That effeminate little runt had defiled your wife twice, and you hadn’t even noticed. Empty promises from a foolish man. Cassandra couldn’t even recall when she had started to despise her husband so much.

The dark-eyed, beautiful slave who had led her to Caracalla last time approached the emperor with a delicate dish. He inhaled the powder from the dish through his nose, leaned back, and closed his eyes in bliss. Antonia, clearly unaccustomed to this, inhaled the powder next, coughing and rubbing her nose frantically. Caracalla laughed again, stroking her thigh.

Cassandra looked away, feeling both relief and anger at the dishonor. Why hadn’t he chosen someone else from the start? Why had he tormented her so much?

Antonia, who had taken her “honorable” place, had lifted a huge burden from her shoulders. She felt as if she could finally breathe easier. Moving away from her husband, she felt light and free. Inspired, she drank wine, even ate, and chatted with other guests, forgetting the young emperor like a bad dream. He was no longer her problem.

She was engrossed in conversation with a young couple who had come from the provinces for the games. Cassandra hadn’t talked so much in a long time. But then she asked another question, and none of her new acquaintances answered. They stood frozen, staring somewhere behind her.

"Leave us."

No, no, no! The euphoria faded, replaced by trembling. Cassandra turned around. It wasn’t Caracalla, but the trembling didn’t stop.

Emperor Geta studied her carefully, as if seeing her for the first time. His cold fingers lifted her chin, his black eyes scanning her face.

"Where did you get this from?" His fingers slid lower, tracing the edge of her tunic.

"Your brother sent it to me," she replied quietly, trying not to meet his gaze. He, too, was a cause and a witness to her humiliation, though indirectly. She hated him as well.

"Antoninus?" His deep voice faltered.

She almost asked who he meant. Of course, no one ever called Caracalla by his real name. No one but his brother.

"Emperor Caracalla, Caesar, yes."

He continued to study her, not in the same way as his brother of course, but still hardly appropriate, given they were in public.

"Did he say anything to you? Did he do anything?"

She nearly choked on her fury. As if you didn’t see what he did! As if you didn’t stand there and watch the debauchery your own twin brother caused!

"Tell me, domina, why did my brother choose to dress you in the garments of our late mother?" He leaned closer, his voice lowering, growing harsher, as if she had stolen the clothes instead of being forced to wear them. "Let me tell you why. You look just like her, you know? Now I see it clearly—your eyes, your lips, your hair, even the way you furrow your brow." His hand caressed her cheek, the back of his fingers gliding over her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some of the guests watching them, whispering to each other.

It was disgusting. The whole situation made her stomach turn. She reminded them of their deceased mother. And how could Caracalla… How could he do those terrible things to her!?

"My brother seems chaotic, unserious, but he rarely does anything without a reason," he said, nervously licking his lips before flashing her a smile, one that was anything but kind. "There’s always a meaning, a meaning only he and I understand. You know, we shared the same womb, we’ve always been together as long as I can remember, and we share the reins of power, as you know. Everything that’s mine is his, and everything that’s his is mine. Do you understand?"

The realization of what he was hinting at washed over her like a vile shiver. No, no, not this!

"May I leave, Emperor?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Geta was different, after all—he liked being adored, admired, but Cassandra’s face revealed nothing but disgust. The emperor didn’t enjoy such games. His lips twisted, clearly wounded by her rejection, but he nodded nonetheless, stepping back and removing his hand from her face. It was strange how cold Geta’s hands were, while Caracalla’s had felt like fire.

Cassandra didn’t warn her husband; she left the throne room alone, not wanting to stay. The brief moment of joy she had experienced was stolen from her once more. The emperors had ruined her life without even meaning to.

Rushing through the dark corridors lit only by torches, she dreamed of one thing alone—to seclude herself in her chambers and this time, not to emerge until the games were over. Of course, her dreams were not destined to come true. The foolish, childish dreams of insignificant little girls were unheard by the gods. Here, in Rome, wishes were granted only to those who tormented these very little girls.

"Wait, domina," a rough voice called out to her from the darkness.

The owner of the rough voice turned out to be a Praetorian guard. He walked slightly ahead, with three others trailing behind. Tall, strong, clad in armor, they escorted the delicate, short figure. Even in the dim torchlight, he seemed to glow. Purple and gold, the soft clinking of his adornments, and the cold smile on his lips promised nothing good. How could such a delicate appearance conceal such evil?

The Praetorians were imposing, large, but it was only him that she feared—standing just a few steps in front of her, smiling, his hands clasped together.

"Wait outside," Caracalla nodded, and the Praetorians obediently stepped back, taking position on the other side of the arch. They could likely hear every word spoken in the corridor.

"Well, well, hello, birdie" his voice softer than usual, but his eyes growing more wild, "It’s been a while since we’ve had our little talks, hasn’t it? Is my company no longer to your liking?"

"Emperor, I…" What could she say that wouldn’t anger him?

"Or have you found better company, dear? Forgotten all about our sweet love?" He stared at her from under his brows, his lips trembling. He was furious.

Let him kill her! Let him do it, but not torture her! But no, he chose the second option. It was clear he wouldn’t have come after her today like divine retribution if he hadn’t seen her speaking to Geta. Fool, she was such a fool! He could have fucked every woman in Rome, but she had no right to even look at another man. Her husband was the exception, since taking her was a way of humiliating him; Tiberius wasn’t his equal. But his brother was.

"And what, you’re silent now? You were more talkative with Geta. Or am I not skilled enough at conversation?" Without waiting for her answer, he grabs her wrist, pinning her against the wall. His knee pressed between her legs, forcing them slightly apart.

"Your brother asked me about the garments you gave me—that’s all, I swear!"

"Ah, he recognized them, didn’t he?" He clicked his tongue with satisfaction. "He couldn’t have missed them, of course. Yet, you lie. Geta always wants everything that’s mine! Always!" Suddenly his voice took on a petulant tone, as if he were a big, dangerous child, but children don’t behave like this. "But he won’t get anything. No, not you. You’re mine, aren’t you, birdie?"

She stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, unable to summon the strength to answer.

"Answer me!" he barked.

He had never shouted before. Hissed, purred, laughed—yes. But never raised his voice.

"I am yours, Caesar, only yours."

"Everything in Rome is mine. Everything belongs to me. Do you understand?"

"I belong to you," she breathed.

Hearing her words, Caracalla's expression changed, he lifted his chin, clearly pleased. Though he wore no crown, the flickering torchlight turned his bright curls into a fiery halo framing his pale face, making him seem otherworldly, like a vision. A demon, a true demon, ironically possessing such an innocent-looking body.

A lone tear rolled down her face, and Caracalla's darkened eyes immediately followed its path, stepping closer to Cassandra, licking the salty trail with his hot tongue. The sweetness of oils and powders enveloped her again.

"Good," he finally relented, "and yet, you lied. Lying to the Emperor is a grave crime, you know that?"

"Yes, Caesar," she knew the rules, "I must apologize."

"Apologize?” He burst in laughter. “Oh no, my dear. This time, you’ve earned your punishment for such an offense.”

His lips brushed against hers, but there was no kiss—just a dry touch and a hot whisper, mouth to mouth.

"Where have you been these past days?"

"I… I was unwell."

"Why?" he pressed, sensing her hesitation.

"I…I had woman troubles," she admitted, biting her lip and looking away.

The emperor's pale eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he clicked his tongue in disappointment. His hand slid over her body, pausing on her stomach, pressing down.

"What a tragedy! Neither a senator nor an emperor could plant his seed in your womb!" His palm continued to press against her stomach, forcing her to clench her teeth. "Don't you wish to give your husband an heir?"

"I do," she whispered softly.

"Then why does my seed not please you?" He stared directly into her eyes.

Is he joking? Doesn't he understand this is beyond her control?

"You have pleased me in every way, Emperor," she answered quietly.

His hand was suddenly at her throat, his thumb pressing into the hollow between her collarbones, squeezing,

"You lie! You rejected my gift and lied to me again! This time, you will be punished and I will not be merciful. I’ll teach you how to properly accept gifts from an emperor, and when I’m done, whatever’s left of you, sweet little wife, will be sent back to your husband!"

She was almost choking, but he removed his hand, placing it on her shoulder, pressing down.

"On your knees before the emperor," he commanded.

What? Why? She couldn't fathom what he wanted from her, but certainly not here, in this open corridor where anyone could walk in.

The pressure on her shoulder increased.

"I won’t repeat myself," his eyes crazed, the madness in them burning, fueled by the drug’s effect. His cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed, but no, he had never known such feelings.

Obediently, Cassandra dropped to her knees before him, looking up, her lips pressed together, hands resting on her knees, her thighs touching her heels.

His breath quickened, his fingers tracing her cheek.

"A beautiful garment for a beautiful little thing," his voice trembles with anticipation, and she's clueless about what's about to happen. Caracalla ogles her for one last moment before extending his hand.

"Give me your hand, now."

She obediently slips her hand into his... and then, something she never saw coming happens. She knew he'd force himself on her again, but this? This was beyond her wildest nightmares.

"Feel that? You should be flattered," his voice broke into a rasp.

Her breath catches in her throat as he guides her hand, making her feel his hardness through the fabric. She'd never touched a man like that before, not even her husband.

"That’s it, good," the emperor praised, guiding her further.

Every time Cassandra thought it couldn't possibly get worse, it did. Now, in the corridor leading to her shared quarters with her husband, she was on her knees, like a nameless slave, caught up in something so degrading she never could have imagined it.

"Now, hands behind your back. Keep them there until I say otherwise. Disobey, and I’ll see those pretty hands taken away, understood, dear?" His smile is accompanied by a soft thumb stroke over her lower lip.

Shame burns through her as she slowly clasps her hands behind her back. What now? How will he degrade her this time?

His answer comes as his fingers sliding into her hair, initially petting her like a dog, then his grip tightens sharply, yanking her head back.

"Not a sound, sweetheart, or we’ll have an audience," he warns, "And trust me, I don’t mind at all—I’ll finish either way. But you… think twice."

Then comes the punishment. With a sharp, strong yank, he tears her tunic down, the fabric dropping to her waist. She wants to scream, to cover herself, but his threat keeps her hands locked in place, trembling.

"Sit up straight," he's so close, her eyes locked on his feet, but he grabs her hair again, forcing her to meet his gaze. Shame and fear consume her as his hips are now at eye level.

"Again, I’m doing your husband a favor by showing you what he might enjoy," he said with a sly smirk. "When you kneel before him like this, don’t forget to mention who taught you, hmm?"

The emperor lifts his lavish robes and flings his shimmering cloak aside, letting it fall to the floor. He wouldn't...?

"Come on, open your mouth, don’t give me that foolish look," Caracalla drawls, "if your womb won't take me, then your mouth will. Right, Cassandra?"

Her name makes her flinch—and obey.

He wields it shamelessly, not as a courtesy, but to assert his power. She had thought the young emperor didn’t care enough to remember, yet here, in this moment of utter humiliation, he says her name.

Trying not to look at him, Cassandra complies, fighting the urge to close her eyes, knowing it will only make things worse. Her reward is his raspy moan and the taste of him on her tongue. Unlike her, he's not about to remain quiet.

He doesn’t give her any freedom, holding her firmly with his hand tangled in her hair, his voice raspy as he orders her every move. To her surprise, the emperor is intensely responsive, moaning and biting his lip. His hand moves to the back of her head, the cold press of his rings against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. It’s clear he’s losing patience.

She struggles to breathe, choking on air as he takes her mouth roughly, his grip holding her head in place. Tears blur her vision, but she can't pull away, the pressure in her throat building with each passing second. He doesn't relent, pushing into her harder, more violently.

"Look at me, in the eyes," his voice a half-whisper, half-growl, escaping his red lips, "that’s it, good girl," it didn’t sound like praise, but more like mockery.

Her lip splits at the corner, a taste of blood, but it's insignificant now. All emotions have left her. Disgrace. Disgrace. Disgrace.

His grip grows harsher, his breath ragged, his body thrusting forward. She tries to push him away, her hands coming free to press against him, but he doesn't stop. With deep, harsh thrusts, he goes all the way into her throat, pausing, holding her head by the hair, staring into her eyes, another moan escaping his lips.

Cassandra pulls back as soon as he releases her, coughing, tasting him in her mouth, on her lips. She wants to spit it out desperately but is too afraid. How dare she reject his "gifts"?

Tears streaming, lips swollen, a drop of blood at the corner of her mouth, she's still on her knees in the middle of the corridor, her chest bare, her hair disheveled from his rough grip.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asks, already having adjusted his clothes, looking as innocent as if nothing happened.

"As always, Emperor," she can say nothing else. Now, she just wants to end her life. His taste still lingers.

"Then what kind of punishment is this, little bird? Once again, I've been too generous," he shakes his head theatrically, "you were rushing to your chambers, weren't you? Why are you still here? Come on, come on!" He claps his hands, urging her to move.

Shaking, she stands, head bowed.

"And don't forget who you belong to."

"Yours."

His satisfied laughter follows her as she walks away.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey friends, thank you so much for all the love and support! It’s honestly so unexpected and makes me so happy that so many of you enjoy my Caracalla 💕 The next chapter is almost done, so you won’t have to wait too long! Love you all, muah!

[eclipseiz]

Twin Thrones

pairing- caracalla x fem! oc x geta

(♡ synopsis)- calista amulis was determined to get her brother back, no matter the cost. even if that means she had to cozy up with the emperor's to do it.

part 1 of ?

please note...

✧ this is set PRE gladiator 2 as the story progresses it might dabble in the beginning but that's about it.

✧caracalla will not have syphilis in this story, he'll just be a crazy freak.

✧this story is gonna be dirty and raw (lol) so 18+

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

Calista Amulis was set on saving her brother, Caius from Rome the moment she had heard he’d been sold to them.

The sun beat down relentlessly as she leapt from the boat, the heat biting into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire that fueled her every movement. She darted away, her heart pounding with urgency, desperate to stay ahead of the soldier she had seduced only hours before for the free ride to Rome. She had played her part well, weaving the web of deception so carefully. She stumbled upon a young woman walking with a basket filled with what looked like bread, “Pardon me!” she called out making the woman turn around

“Yes?” the woman raised an eyebrow

Calista looked around and leaned in closer, “Do you know who I can talk to in regards to the Gladiators?”

She seemed to think for a moment before answering, “Macrinus would be your gentleman. He buys them up the moment they touch Roman soil. If I were to guess I'd say he's in his office near the Gladiators cells just down there.” she pointed down a dusty stairway to the right of the Colosseum.

With a quick ‘thank you’ Calista began down the path coming across a bustling corridor with training men she assumed to be the gladiators and guards. “What's your business here girl?” a bald man walked over to her.

“I'm looking for a man named Macrinus, is he here?” she asked folding her hands together

He grunted and began walking, commanding her to follow him with a wave of his hand. She moved with him until they stood in front of an archway, “Sire this girl here has a few words for you.”

Calista stepped into the room and watched as Macrinus gave her a once over, “Thank you Viggo you may return to the floor.” After the guard had retreated, Macrinus leaned back and clasped his hands together, “Well why have you come to see me…?” he requested her name.

She moved to sit at a chair in front of the desk, “Calista. My brother was sold to you after our city was attacked and I would like for you to release him. I'll give you anything you require.” 

Macrinus tilted his head before letting out a laugh, “Silly girl, who knows if your brother is still alive.”

“Caius. His name is Caius.” she urged

The man thought for a moment, “Ah yes ‘Cyclops’. Quite the fighter…managed to lose his eye during his first fight here.”

Her face flashed with worry, “He’s still standing then?”

“For now.” Macrinus answered with a shrug. He got up from his seat over to where he had a glass of wine, “I know what you can do for me.”

Calista straightened her posture and put her confident mask in place, “Anything.”

The older man hummed, “I'm sure you’ve heard of the emperors Geta and Caracalla from wherever you have come from?” 

“The twin tyrants?” 

His lips twitched, “Correct. I want to take them down and I had no way of doing so until now. You are a pretty girl, Calista, just their type…”

She furrowed her brows, “I am not following.”

“The emperors are young fragile men. Just the kind who can be turned agaisnt each other when it comes to a young beautiful woman.” he handed her a cup half full of the alcohol.

She swirled the liquid in the cup, “You want me to seduce them? Both of them? How do you suppose I got close enough to do that?” 

“I can handle that without fretting. Though you will need to wear something of more taste.” he gestured to her raggedy dress which she had been wearing for days.

Calista stood, setting the cup back down, “And after I somehow manage to pin them against one another, what after?”

Marcinus took the girl's face in his hands, “I'll take over from there. You'll find I can be very persuasive.”

She scoffed, “And you'll let my brother go?”

He gives her a pat on the cheeks before backing away, “If all goes to plan then yes. Caius will be freed.”

“And if it doesn't?” she anxiously questioned

“Then you'll most likely die at the hands of the emperors.” he shrugged like it was nothing.

Calista let out a breath of air before slowly nodding, “Fine I'll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Macrinus beamed, his smile wide and full of triumph, as though he'd just secured a victory in a game of great importance. “I can arrange for you to meet them as soon as tomorrow. But first, let me tell you a little about them.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the edge of his desk as he considered the task at hand. “Geta is the older twin,” he began, his tone steady and assured. “He’s the one I consider the true leader. Handles most of the imperial duties, keeps things running smoothly. He's a sharp, methodical person who expects loyalty, and demands it. He’s the one you’ll have to watch closely.” Macrinus paused, rocking back slightly, as though trying to find the right words for the next part. "Caracalla, on the other hand..." He shook his head, a flicker of something between amusement and disbelief crossing his face. "Crazy, to put it lightly. He's unpredictable, impulsive and makes decisions on a whim, often with disastrous results. He'll be the easy one to handle, no doubt. But it’s Geta you need to worry about." He sat forward, his gaze sharpening. "Geta is the real challenge. If you can get to him, take him down, the rest will fall into place.”

She regarded Macrinus for a moment, her expression calm but calculating. "I see," she said slowly, her voice smooth and confident.

Macrinus tipped his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll have my servant prepare your bath, clothes, everything. If all goes well with the twins tomorrow, they'll likely request a room for you at their palace."

She blinked, a furrow of confusion crossing her brow. "Wait, hold on," she said, her voice calm but edged with uncertainty. "Just like that? They’ll let me in? You make it sound almost too easy."

“It’s not as difficult as you’re making it sound,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “The twins are accustomed to intrigue and manipulation, but they both believe in appearances. A beautiful, well-dressed woman appearing as if by chance? They’ll think nothing of it. The way you present yourself will make all the difference.” He paused, watching her carefully. “Don’t overthink it. If you act confident, poised, and play to their egos, they’ll let you in without a second thought.

She chuckled sarcastically, the tension in her expression easing for a moment. "Let's hope I'm as good of an actor as I've been told then." Her voice was dry, but there was a flicker of determination beneath it.

“Cordelia!” Macrinus called for his servant. “I'll have her get you cleaned up. Get a good night's rest and get ready for tomorrow.”

“If sleep can even call upon me.” With that, she exited, the weight of what was to come settling on her shoulders. Tomorrow would tell whether the pieces would fall into place or whether she'd be walking into a trap.

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

check out my masterlist pinned on my profile

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - the golden one

marcus acacius x f!oc x emperor geta x emperor caracalla x f!oc

A story of resilience, friendship, love, and deception.

The Prologue

Act II - The Gladiator

Act III - Even In The Darkest of Places

Act IV - The Girl

Act V - Villain & Violent

Act VI - Lunam Et Secreta

Act VII - Name Day

Act VIII - Trepidation and The First Meeting

Act IX - The Gardens

Act X

playlist character moodboards

the real housewives of ancient rome

artwork by @kenobiwanx 🤍

[artistinquestion]

Okay so today I saw Gladiator II. Not bad, but not great either. I only really wanted to see it for the eye candy anyways, but I got the plot and storyline and how it continues from the first film. No spoilers but it was kinda a lame gladiator film, there’s definitely been more gladiator-y gladiator movies before lol.

But enough of my review.

Writing wise I got what I needed out of seeing the film so I feel comfortable enough to continue writing fanfic for not one but both emperors! I have two oc x canon possibly one shot fics for Geta planned, and I plan on starting a new oc x canon story for Caracalla since in the end he’s the one who ultimately stole my heart!

I’m happy to start writing again and to now have the films context to base my fanfics off of :)

[spookynebula]

Caracalla: I didn’t do it for them, I did it for you, Laelia. I’d kill for you. …Please ask me to kill for you.

Laelia: No, Marcus.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

VI. The Battle

this is the longest chapter i ever wrote , it was pain in the ass, so please be nice, reblog and hit a like, if you enjoy thank you :)

lupus est homo homini

A man to a man is a wolf. 

T. Hobbes

Temple of Saturn…

Saturnalia was by far the most joyous Roman festival; the Roman poet Catullus famously described it as ‘the best of times’. The festivities were so exuberant that the Roman writer Pliny is said to have had a soundproof room built so that he could work during the raucous celebrations. During Saturnalia, business and commerce would come to a standstill. Schools and courts were closed and normal social practices were suspended. The feast was celebrated with sacrifices and a public banquet in the Temple of Saturn in the Roman Forum.

People decorated their houses with garlands, even the exteriors of official buildings were decorated with greenery. People were dressed in different colours for this day, unlike their daily and official clothes. The streets of Rome were lively and colourful today.

You travelled to the temple with your half-brothers, Caracalla and his mother Julia Domna in the flamboyant carriage in front, and you and Geta - at his insistence - in the carriage behind them. Even though you felt that Geta was treating you more cordially now, you still couldn't be completely sure. But he was certainly different from Caracalla and his mother, they had a ruthless side that never changed, and you were sure that you could not trust them under any circumstances. 

Already the ostentatious temple was crowded with people, the Romans seemed to be enjoying the day of festivities.  They were shouting your names with great enthusiasm as you got out of the carriages and greeted them. One of them was handing you a bouquet of flowers when one of the guards blocked him. You told him to move away and thanked him as you took the flowers, he was so surprised and happy that he started dancing with joy. His mates joined him and chanted your name. Geta gave your arm a gentle but firm grip. 'You have to be a bit more careful. You never know what they'll do.'

'It's just a few flowers,' you replied. 'And why would they hurt me?'

He smiled, but his eyes showed his concern. 'You're so naive, sister. There's so much you have to learn. Let's get these ceremonies over with, I'm dying to get to the banquet.’

As you walked up the stairs of the temple, you noticed that he was still holding your arm. 

'Are you feeling better now?' you asked, trying to pull your arm back, but for some reason he wouldn't let go. It bothered you. 'Could I just ask you to let go of my arm, please?'

He paused and looked at you with his light brown eyes. He looked like he wanted to tell you something, but it was hard to know what emotion he was feeling. All of a sudden, he smiled. "I think the disgusting herbal concoction worked.'" He took his hand away and started up the stairs faster. You tried to keep up with him, but he was too fast, and Caracalla was waiting for him at the top of the steps. '"You're slow," he grumbled. Julia squinted at you and went inside. It seemed like you were going to have to get used to that look.

After the ceremony of sacrificing a young pig in front of the statue of the god Saturn, just between the tall white pillars inside the temple, Geta approached you as you prayed to the great statue then gestured you to outside and walked towards the stairs to leave, followed by Caracalla, who took his mother by the arm. You'd have to get used to walking side by side with them, but it still felt a bit strange. People were coming to the temple to sacrifice, just like you, and they were all turning to look at you and greet you. 

"I want to get to the palace for the banquet as soon as possible," Geta said, sounding a bit impatient.

"You must be hungry. You were busy this morning," he said quietly. 

You looked at him and said, "Yes, you're right, thanks again, by the way, much appreciated, highness."

"Oh, these stairs... Hold out your arm," he said in a commanding tone.

Geta was wearing a white and black toga with gold embroidery and it was very elaborate. He looked like he was struggling and didn't like you looking at him hesitantly. "Aren't you going to help me?"

You forced a smile and held out your arm for him to take. It was starting to feel a little strange that he wanted to touch you all the time, but you didn't object because you wanted to be on good terms as brother and sister.

You noticed an old woman approaching you just after descending the steps. One of the guards pushed her away and she fell to the ground. Geta ignored her, as did Caracalla and his mother. It bothered you so much that you let go of Geta's arm and walked over there.

You ignored the guard's warning and helped the woman off the floor. Her clothes were torn, dirty and old; she must have been a beggar. You felt sorry for her.

'What are you doing?' Geta was upset.

The woman bowed her head. 'My lady, thank you.'

You turned to Geta. 'Could I possibly borrow some coins?’

‘Get away from her, look at the way she's dressed, she's filthy.’ He was looking at her with a disgusted expression.

‘It's festival day and as emperor, shouldn't you embrace all your people?’

He opened his eyes wide. ‘Embrace? I can't even lay a hand on her!’ He balled his hands into fists and pulled them back as if trying to hide them.

‘I meant metaphorically,’ you rolled your eyes at him.

Geta took a moment to compose himself and gestured to one of his slaves, who came running over with a pouch full of coins. You took it from him and presented it to her.

'May the gods bless you, Lady Aurelia!' she said, falling at your feet. You graciously took her by the hand and lifted her up.

‘That is enough,' Geta said, grasping your arm and drawing you closer. As the woman prayed joyfully, the crowd began to murmur. 

“Long live Emperor Geta!” The crowd began to chant, "Long live Lady Aurelia!"

Geta was taken aback not by the fact that they were shouting his name, but rather by the proximity of the crowd. It was the first time he had ever felt so close to the people on the street.

'Please be sure to wash your hands thoroughly when you arrive at the palace,' he muttered.

You giggled and looked around as he greeted the people, but you did not see the general. He had said he was coming to the banquet anyway, so you got into the carriage with Geta, hoping to see him there, and you thought about him the whole way.

Domus Severiana…

As the sun began to set, casting the courtyard and kitchen of Domus Severiana in a golden glow, preparations were underway with great enthusiasm. The slaves were meticulously preparing a selection of exquisite dishes and beverages for the guests who were expected to take their place in the main courtyard. Julia was there to oversee the proceedings, offering guidance and encouragement to ensure everything was just right. Caracalla was already relaxing in one of the armchairs in the courtyard, enjoying an apple. When one of the slaves unfortunately stumbled and dropped the tray, he reacted with amusement, but then proceeded to issue a firm reprimand. While this was taking place in the main courtyard, you were in your room, discussing attire with Decima, when the door to your room suddenly opened. You were startled when Geta rushed in, as you wearing your long, thin tunic.

"Even if you're the emperor, it's always worth being polite, don't you think?"

He smiled. "Watch your tone. Who says I'm interested in your body anyway?" He looked away as a slave girl walked in. The girl was carrying a light turquoise silk cloth in her arms.

"You always wear the same style of dress, your hair the same way, you don't look like a princess. You should take some care of yourself. So this girl, what's her name, what's your name?”

“Nerissa, your highness-”

"Oh, whatever!" he interjected. "Make sure you dress her and do the princess's hair with care." He turned to you. "She's got amazing hands-on skills. You wouldn't believe what she can do. She's really talented," he said with a grin. 

She giggled. “Anything for my emperor.”

‘I'm assuming your whore friend isn't that talented,’ he said, narrowing his eyes, looking at Decima.

‘Please don't call her that,’ you snapped.

‘'Weren't you supposed to take her on my behalf? She's my slave, I can call her whatever I want,’ he said smugly.

It was true anyway as it was his name on the documents.

‘Still, courtesy is a virtue, brother.’‘

"Not for me,’ he said, grinning. ‘Get dressed now,’ he said, clapping his hands. “Join me in the main courtyard when you're done,” he said to his slave, then turned to you. “You too, sister."

You inhaled deeply when he left, you didn't like him barging into your room like that and talked badly about Decima.

He was acting like a naughty little child, as usual. 

'Please excuse him,' you said Decima.

She shook her head. 'Never mind, I'd rather put up with a lot of insults here than there as a whore. I'll always remember what you did for me.’

You gave her a hug. She felt like your real family; you valued her a great deal.

'He was right though, you need to get dressed,' Decima said, and with the help of the other girl they began to dress you. 

Meanwhile, you were thinking about Marcus. You were wondering if he'd arrived already. You hadn't seen him since morning and now you were getting impatient. Your answer to his marriage proposal is already set in your mind. But you were also worried about how Geta and Caracalla would react – it was hard to predict what they'd do.

'You were certainly born to be a princess, my lady,' she said, looking at you. 

Decima smiled. 'Indeed.'

You looked in the mirror and thought you looked pretty good in the turquoise gold embroidered dress and shawl, which matched the gold bracelets on your arms and the necklace around your neck. Geta was right – the girl had done your hair perfectly. One of the braids had gone over the top of your head like a crown and was pinned into the hair at the nape of your neck. 

'You're really talented. My brother was right.’

She gave a shy smile. 'I'm really pleased to be able to help prepare such a beautiful lady as you.'

You smiled back. 'Now, you can go to my brother. He seems to like you.'

Her cheeks flushed a little. It would be a good idea for you to get to know her better, since Geta seems to like her.

'Let me know if he's not feeling well, okay?' 'But you've got to keep it between us, can I trust you?'

'Of course, my lady.' She nodded.

Once she'd left the room, Decima came over to help you with your earrings. She still had bruises on her face.

'Have you been using the ointment I prepared for you?’

‘Yes, thank you, Ay-, my lady.’

‘Call me Aurelia when no one's around.’

‘I suppose, I'll have to get used to it.’

She combed the hair that was falling on your shoulder. 

'You stay in the room and rest for today.’ You said to her.

Although she was a bit reluctant at first, she agreed. It was already a very busy day, so no one would notice.

As you left your room and headed for the stairs, you found that the weight of the fabric made it a bit difficult to move your legs freely. You made your way down the stairs, grabbed hold of the gold-embroidered railing for support. As you strolled towards the main courtyard, your heart started to beat faster when you heard the sounds of masculine laughter coming from inside. Geta and Caracalla were sitting at the banqueting hall, enjoying the food and drink that was laid out in front of them. The members of the Senate, the patricians and their wives were already settled in their seats. Julia was sitting next to Caracalla, chatting with an older member of the Senate.

As soon as you entered the hall, you were the focus of everyone's attention, and the murmuring ceased. Even the slaves paused in their activities to observe you, but then they resumed their tasks. Geta stood up and approached you. "Look how gorgeous my sister is. Would you come and take your seat?" He gestured to the seat next to him. You smiled at him and did as he said, the murmuring had returned, now everyone was looking at you and chatting. But the only person you wanted to see, Marcus, was nowhere to be seen, and you looked around with a hint of disappointment. 

"My lady." Your cousin Gaius came over to you. "May I speak to you privately for a moment?" he held out his hand.

"Leave my sister alone and let her eat something, Gaius," Geta said, a little annoyed. He was still chewing the morsel in his mouth, and you pursed your lips to try to keep from laughing. Caracalla already laughed for you.

"That's alright, brother. I'll be right back," you said and stood up. Gaius seemed a little annoyed that you ignored his hand, but he regained his composure quickly. You were not particularly curious about what he was going to say, but it might be a good way to pass the time until the general arrived. As you walked slowly with Gaius from the main courtyard to the one close to the entrance, you realized he was becoming increasingly excited. 

"You look beautiful, Aurelia."

"Thank you," you replied, your gaze fixed on the entrance door. You wonder why he isn't here yet.

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning that I've kept your father's letter for years. I have been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to open it for quite some time. Hoping desperately.”

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it seems that after your mother's passing, your relatives in Leptis Magna were interested in offering you their protection. However, your father, my uncle, felt it was best to take a different approach, sending you away I mean.”

You were unexpectedly touched by the mention of your mother and found yourself standing in front of the statue of your father. "He was hopeful that you would return and reclaim your birthright, and that your brothers would accept you. Given my familiarity with them and the Empress, I believe he gave me this assignment," he said, looking at the statue. "I am truly honored to have been assigned the task of protecting you. I hope you will allow me to be of service to you in the future."

“In the future?”

Gaius smiled. "I would be able to protect you more easily if you would allow me to marry you."

You were momentarily at a loss for words. As you considered how to decline his proposal without offending him, you observed a figure moving across the main courtyard towards the banquet. It appeared to be a man wearing a red shawl over his shoulders. It seemed likely to be him. However, when he soon disappeared between the columns, you couldn't help but frown. You felt a desire to pursue him.

"My lady, will you not answer?" Gaius was waiting hopefully.

"Sir Gaius, I am truly flattered, but I am afraid I am unlikely to accept your offer."

“May I ask why?" His voice betrayed no hint of curiosity. Again, it seemed as though he already had an idea of the answer. You were not interested in engaging in a similar manner.

"I'm obliged to tell you that my heart belongs to someone else. I'm sorry, sir.”

He seemed rather unsurprised, which might give rise to some suspicion.

"I'm just asking you to think a little more, take your time."

"No matter how much I think about it, I'm fairly certain my answer won't change."

Gaius seemed angry.

"I would like to return to my brothers now," you said, your voice calm and measured. 

"As you wish, but I am a very patient man," he said with a smile and accompanied you towards the banquet hall.

You returned to the courtyard, your eyes seeking out his presence. You were relieved to see him right in front of Geta and Caracalla, and your spirits were lifted. Acacius looked quite splendid, wearing a long red shawl over his white tunic embroidered with gold and a large circular brooch pinned to his collar. 

He appeared to be engaged in conversation with the emperors. He was holding a wine glass of a blue hue. When Geta and Caracalla turned their heads towards you, he looked back. When you met his eyes, you smiled. He observed you with great interest.

"My lady," he greeted you.

"General Acacius, welcome," you nodded.

The General's attention was drawn to Gaius as he approached from behind, narrowed his eyes. "Sister, you might be interested to hear what General Acacius said to us." Geta said to you in a slightly louder voice.

”What is it?" You looked at the general and realized he was smiling.

"He wants our permission to marry you, how kind of him!”

“He always is." Caracalla said, leaning back in his chair and grinning. His slaves sitting around him, watching curiously.

Your cheeks were flushed, and you looked at him to explain, but Gaius interjected.

'General Acacius had the opportunity to speak with you first, and it was with the same intention that I wished to speak to your Majesties.'

Geta raised his eyebrows and looked at Caracalla, who seemed to display a certain degree of animosity whenever he saw Gaius. Julia muttered something. Caracalla responded to his mother's words with a lighthearted laugh. 

"I have already given you my answer, Sir Gaius," you said, looking at Geta. You were hoping he would reject him.

Acacius placed a hand to his chin and smiled in a way that seemed to indicate he was trying to suppress his laughter.

"As I told you I'm a patient man, my lady."

"Cut it off! I've had enough of your love intrigues!" Caracalla cried out in frustration. Macrinus was supposed to bring a gladiator. Where is he?"

"This is like a fight, brother. Don't you think? Two gentlemen against each other over a princess. Impressive.” Geta grinned.

The atmosphere was palpably tense as Acacius and Gaius exchanged unpleasant glances.

"I am here, your highness," Macrinus declared, appearing behind you. He was flanked by the gladiator slave you had seen earlier at his villa.

He gave Gaius a quick glance, then came to stand beside Geta.

‘My lady, please have a seat,’ the General said, gesturing towards the chair.

You smiled at him and did as he suggested, and he stood beside you. One of the slaves handed you some wine. You would have liked to talk to Marcus, but there were too many people around. Besides, he seemed to be watching Macrinus' gladiator with some unease. Geta and Caracalla, on the contrary, looked excited.

"So this is your gladiator?" Geta asked. 

‘It is.’

‘Very well, let's see what he can do.’ Caracalla grinned. 

At Macrinus' signal, the gladiator made his way to the center, and the people around him shifted slightly to give him space. 

Both men saluted the emperors and promptly drew their swords and advanced towards the gladiator, but he was swift and agile, evading their attacks and seizing one of the men by the elbow. He then disarmed him and struck him forcefully in the face with the back of his elbow. As the man was momentarily disoriented, the gladiator swiftly retrieved the sword and advanced towards the other man. The sound of swords clashing echoed through the hall, and a sword fight commenced between the two. The other man approached from behind, but the gladiator was able to avoid both the sword blow and the man's attack. He then grabbed the man by the waist, threw him to the ground, and hit him repeatedly in the face. 

Your entire body was visibly tense, your hands firmly grasping the fabric of your dress. Caracalla sat up in his chair and watched intently, so something like this could only excite him.

When the man collapsed, bloodied and unconscious, the gladiator managed to overpower the other man with his sword and quick footwork. Unfortunately, this left them both without swords. The man was more physically fit and appeared to be more determined than the gladiator. He advanced towards him and grabbed him by the belt and then by the waist and threw him backwards with some force to the ground, which resulted in one of the tables full of food being knocked over. You felt yourself becoming increasingly tense as the food and drinks were scattered around, and you saw the general moving in front of you. Guests were murmuring and applauding, but they continued to watch with interest.

The gladiator was covered in blood, but he was smiling. He quickly wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand and waited for the man to make a move. When the man made a sudden advance, shouting, the gladiator responded by moving swiftly to strike at his leg. When the man faltered, the gladiator took the opportunity to strike him several times in the face with his chin, attempting to knock him to the ground. However, the man remained standing. At that moment, the gladiator took the sword from the ground and, in a swift and decisive move, drove it through the man's stomach. You were taken aback as blood spattered everywhere from the man's abdomen. Some of the people in the hall expressed their shock and dismay, while others were visibly excited.  Geta and Caracalla expressed their admiration for his performance, and their slaves joined in the applause. The gladiator respectfully placed his sword on the ground and bowed his head in deference to them. The air was filled with a distinctive, pungent odor of blood. You felt a queasy sensation in your stomach, not due to the smell of blood, but because the blood was still flowing from the cut in the abdomen of the man lying lifeless on the ground. While the majority of the people present were expressing their approval with cheers and whistles, you and the general were the only ones who did not join in. 

Geta stood up and gave a little clap. "That's fantastic!" "I love it!"

"I'm really looking forward to the new games," Caracalla said.

"Whenever you wish, Your Majesty," said Macrinus with a smile.

"Tomorrow!" Geta piped in excitedly.

"Your Majesty, shouldn't we wait until the festival is over?" Julia came over to him.

"No, it'd be too long. How about the last day of the Saturnalia?" "It would be a great way to end the festival," Caracalla said with a grin.

"My brother always has great ideas," he said, grinning at him.

You turned your head to look away as the guards pulled the bodies of the men out of the ground. Macrinus and Gaius went over to the gladiator and started talking to him about something. The general had noticed your nervousness.

"My lady, would you like to go for a walk?"

“Your face has gone white, sister.” Geta was looking at you with a grin. Caracalla laughed, “As a Medicus, shouldn't you be used to see blood?”

You stood up. “I need to get some air,” you said and looked at the general. “General Acacius, accompany me, please.”

He nodded and bowed to the emperors before following you.

There was still blood on the ground outside, so you decided to walk the other way. Soon the General came up to you.

“Are you alright?” there was concern in his voice.

“Yes,” you lied. “I'm not used to this and I don't think I want to get used to it.”

"Perhaps you would like to hold my hand?" he enquired, holding out his big hand towards you.

His eyes were warm, looking at them, you felt a sense of relief from the tension you had been feeling.

The only other people in the courtyard were the slaves, who were enjoying the day. The sounds of musical instruments soon filled the main courtyard, creating a festive atmosphere. When you held Acacius' hand, you felt your skin warm, touching his skin always gives you a reassuring warmth. "So you mentioned to my brothers that you wished to marry me," you said as you walked through the garden in the east courtyard. 

"That is correct," he said with a smile. “But, I would like to hear your answer before they say anything."

As you strolled past the garden fountain, the soothing sound of the flowing water was a welcome respite from the slightly more vibrant melody playing in the courtyard.

You moved to stand in front of Acacius, holding both hands and looking into his eyes.

"I would be honored to be your wife, General."

The brown of his eyes shone brightly, and as he took a step towards you, you involuntarily stepped back, for some reason his devastating gaze had that effect on you. He couldn't help but seem to like it, he raised his hands and cupped your face in his palms. Your cheeks blessed by his touch. 

"I should be the happiest man on this auspicious day," he said softly, brushing his lips against yours. Then he kissed you gently. 

Your lips were pleased to meet his lips again, and a heat spread through your body under his lips. Marcus lowered his arms and took hold of you around the waist, pulling you closer to him. You brought your arms up and wrapped them around his neck, and the kiss became more passionate. You both yearned for each other's bodies, whispering your desire through your lips. Marcus forced to stop himself when his hand reached your shoulder, his lips stilling under yours and turning into a smile, his moustache tickling your upper lip. Breathless, opened your eyes to met his eyes, his hands still on your waist, yours still on his thick neck.

"Perhaps we should save the rest for our wedding night, my lady." He said with a hint of mischief in his voice. He was gently running his fingers through your hair with one hand. "Patience is my best friend yet my worst enemy." He kissed a strand of your hair in the palm of his hand. You slid your hands to his broad shoulders.

"My enemy for sure," you said, frowning. He laughed merrily, caressed your nose with his nose, and kissed your forehead. "You always manage to cheer me up, my lady." The music from the main courtyard was getting louder. Marcus took a step back and held out his arm.

"Maybe we should head back to the banquet?"

You gave a slight nod and took his arm. The music evoked memories of your time in Egypt.

Vicius, your uncle, was mindful of the fact that festival days were not the ideal time for you to be out and about, but he was ultimately swayed by your persistent requests. Even if you were unable to fully observe the other girls dancing through your large black cloak, you still enjoyed being there. As you observed the girls dancing in the main courtyard, a young slave approached you at a brisk pace.

"General Acacius, the Emperors want to see you."

Marcus nodded and turned to you. "I'll see what they want. Would you like to come?”

Shaking your head. ”I'm not quite ready to go in there yet.”

"As you please, my lady.” He agreed.

You watched him as he took his leave of you, releasing your hand and entering the banquet hall. You were curious as to whether this was a decision about marriage, but you felt it would be best to wait until Macrinus and his gladiator had left. 

As you made your way towards the slave girls, who were dancing with evident joy, you came to realise how happy they were. Today was a day of freedom for them, as they were able to enjoy the same food and drinks. They were not expected to do much work today. Geta's slave, the one who dressed you, approached and respectfully inquired, "Lady Aurelia, would you like to join us?"

"Dancing? I've never danced before."

"It's really quite simple. Just allow yourself to become absorbed in the rhythm of the music.”

You noticed she was taking her time deciding whether to take your hand, so you smiled and grasped it. "Then go ahead and teach me."

She giggled, pulling you towards the others.

When you approached them the slaves stopped dancing and looked at you, a little unsure and curious.

"Why did you stop?" "Go on, I want to dance," you said with a encouraging smile.

They looked at each other, smiled back, and started dancing again. Another girl took your other hand, and you all formed a circle. Then they stood facing each other and guided you as you passed through each other. The girl who was Geta's slave was right—it was easy to dance when you let yourself go to the rhythm of the music. It felt great to experience something you'd wanted for so long but hadn't had the chance.  

"You're doing great, my lady." The girl replied with a smile.

"It's so much fun," you said with a smile.

When you switched places with the girl, dancing again, you suddenly noticed that people were gathering around you. 

"It looks like our sister is enjoying herself," Geta said, coming up behind you. You stopped and looked at him with embarrassment. Gaius and the others were standing next to him, smiling and observing you. But you found yourself glancing at the general standing behind them. He was smiling, but it seemed like he was lost in thought. The joy he had when he was with you was gone. Something bad is definitely going on, you thought.

"Our ideas of fun and yours are quite different," Caracalla muttered.

What was the fun in watching people cutting each other?

"Yes, I think it is," you replied.

"Then I'm afraid you're not going to like what I'm about to say," Geta said, coming up to you. 

Your eyebrows arched, seeking clarification on his meaning.

"As a family, we have been pondering the matter of two marriage proposals and have reached a decision." He gazed at Caracalla.

Caracalla laughed, which was a pretty clear sign that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be something you would like. 

"Two candidates, two rivals, one fight and the winner gets the girl. How does that sound?”

"It's a real battle.” Geta grinned.

You swallowed hard, your ears were betraying you. You couldn't make sense of what you were hearing.

“What is the meaning of this?"

Geta placed his hand gently on your shoulder. "Of course, our cousin Gaius is not a warrior. He is, after all, a politician, so it seems that Macrinus' gladiator will stand for him. General Acacius is a formidable opponent, as you may know.”

You felt your whole body go numb in shock. 

"That man's rage is more than enough to rival the General," Caracalla snapped.

"We'll see." Geta replied.

"There's got to be another way," you said, your voice trembling a little.

"The decision has been made. What are you worried about?" I'm sure it'll be a great game.

"Please, brother," you said, looking at Geta with pleading eyes, but he seemed determined. He made you walk a little away from them, with Caracalla accompanying you.

“Come now, sister, don't you trust the General's great fighting skills?”

The general's expression was solemn when you looked up at him from afar.

"If you choose Gaius, you might find yourself widowed pretty quickly. I'll take him out before he gets to Leptis Magna," Caracalla whispered, cruel smile appeared on his face.

Geta snickered. “Of course she won't choose that cunt,” he said, looking at you.

"If you are certain of my choice, why do you play this game? Does my decision not matter at all?"

Before Geta could reply, Caracalla spoke up. "You have accepted us as your family. Decisions like this are made between family. You should show some respect to us.”

"Besides, they should be worthy of you. You're not just any person. You're a Roman princess. Let them fight for you." Geta chuckled.

This made you even angrier. You wanted to slap them both. Everything was a game to them. But you hated that you had to risk losing Marcus because of their childish but dangerous games. You felt your chest hurt.

The festival was over for you, there was no more joy, no more fun. For the rest of the night all the laughter and music did nothing but torture you. Marcus was also silent and his face was expressionless as he looked at you from a distance.

The city was enjoying a well-deserved rest on the first night of the festival. It seemed that everyone and everything had decided to sleep, except you. Your mind was preoccupied with a particular thought. Marcus. The thought of losing him for such a silly pastime felt so wrong.  From your position on the bed, you gazed upwards at the moonlight that was gently filtering through the long window of the spacious room. The gold-embroidered part of the curtain caught your eye when it came into contact with the reflected light, as it shone gently in the moonlight. You decided to get out of bed, as you felt you couldn't sleep anyway. You thought it might be a good idea to get some fresh air. You exited the room and proceeded towards the balcony within. The view from the balcony at night was quite amazing. The Circus Maximus, the hippodrome where horse races were held during the day, appeared to be resting peacefully. The Tiber River, which flows into the sea between Palatine Hill and Aventine Hill, appeared to shine brightly in the night darkness, as though bathed in moonlight. Just beyond the river was a dirt road, the very same road you had traveled many times in a carriage towards the General's villa. 

You prayed to Jupiter, hoping that he might consider allowing you to live there as his wife when he won this fight and married you. Then your gaze shifted to the silhouette of the Colosseum, the imposing structure that had previously inspired a certain ambivalence in you. Now, it seemed to stand before you as an adversary. All the battles and games that were fought in it were not enough to take the warriors who died in all the battles and games. It also seemed to want to take away the most valuable person in your life.

You were startled as you heard footsteps approaching behind you.

"I wonder what could have disturbed our princess's sleep?”

Turning your head, you noticed Julia standing beside you, clad only in her long tunic, a style of dress you were not previously accustomed to seeing her in.

Without making eye contact, she approached and placed her arms on the balustrade. You felt a certain degree of nervousness each time you saw her, and the fact that you were alone with her at this late hour only served to heighten your unease. Her long black hair was waving with the light wind of the night. She was a beautiful woman, though her eyes and lips showed a few wrinkles. Cruel beauty.

"You must be thinking about him," she murmured before you could answer.

It was pretty clear to her, even without you telling her. She was a smart woman, so you were sure she realized it the first time she saw you and the General.

"Are they taking revenge on him?" you asked.

“Because he hid you in his villa? Perhaps, but for my sons, a game is a game. Now he's part of it. Things would have turned out differently had you chosen Gaius. But the General decided his own fate from the moment he asked their permission to marry you.”

You didn't answer, despite all the feelings growing within you. 

"Tiberis (Tiber River),' she murmured. You don't know how happy I was when I found out you had drowned in that river. All my worries were gone."

You remained unresponsive, a shiver ran down your spine, but it was not from the sudden wind.

“But one day you appeared, with your golden hair, the same cheeks that my husband couldn't get enough of kissing, and those innocent hazel eyes, just like the way you looked at me when you were a child, like a stupid, poor kitten. I don't know how I didn't notice the first time I saw you, I must have been so sure you were dead. I must be getting old, I suppose,” she said with a laugh. 

It was as if she was having a friendly chat, which made you more nervous. As your eyes roamed the dark silhouette of the Colosseum, you realised that your real enemy was right next to you.

“Are you sure you won't regret rejecting Gaius and not going to Leptis Magna with him?” She looked at you with a hint of mockery in her eyes, but her voice was almost pleading. 'If you're smart, that's what you should do.’

You closed your eyes tightly, took a deep breath and suppressed all the curses that rushed to your tongue. ‘You wish the General to lose? I thought you trusted him?’

‘There are many soldiers in the Legates with his potential, he's not irreplaceable.’

She approached you as you were trying to control your anger. "You are the one who made him a target. You are responsible for what has happened to him and what will happen to him. Remember that, Aurelia." You could hear the hint of a threat in her voice as she said your name.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as she walked back the way she came. You were already blaming yourself. Hearing the same words from her mouth, as if from your own conscience, increased your pain even more.

Marcus... You didn't even want to consider what you'd do if something happened to him. You thought about your uncle and how he handled it when his wife passed away. He was really dedicated to his work. He felt that his only purpose in life was to try to save more people. But you weren't like him. You were sure your body couldn't handle that kind of pain. You didn't feel as strong as he did. You shook your head and tried to push these thoughts out of your mind. 

You needed to be strong for him. But how could you possibly do that? How were you going to watch him out there fighting for his life when the very thought of it was enough to make your heart ache?  You'd never seen him fight before, but you'd heard so much about him that you had some hope. Still, your worries held your hopes captive and not releasing them. You let your thoughts torture you for a while longer, accompanied by the sound of crickets echoing in the silence of the night, and finally you walked to your room to try to sleep.

Temple of Mars…

The day of the fight.

The temple was relatively quiet when you arrived with Decima in the early hours of the morning. You had come here to sacrifice five pigs to Mars, the god of war. You bowed down in front of the great statue of Mars, which stood in all its majesty in the corner between the protruding tall columns inside, and joined your hands in prayer.

"My Lord, Mars, I beg you to bestow upon me the life of your son Marcus, the man I love, and grant him a victorious outcome today. Juno, the goddess of marriage, I implore you to remove all obstacles that stand in the way of me marrying the man I love. Venus, the goddess of love, I ask for your strength to fight for my love and to guide me to make it stronger. Fortuna, I ask that your fortune favour us today. Jupiter, the god of gods, I beseech you, my lord, to sharpen his sword, to give strength and power to his hands and arms, and to grant him victory. And bring him back to me safe and sound.”

You opened your eyes and saw your tears dripping on your hands, which you'd clasped together on your chest. Decima touched your shoulder and wiped your tears with her thumb.

'The gods will help him, don't you worry anymore.'

You nodded, feeling certain your prayer would be answered, now all that remained was to wait, and time was your worst enemy.

The last person you wanted to see was coming up the steps of the temple. Gaius noticed you and approached you, his smug smile infuriating you.

'My lady, I believe you've come to pray.'

'That's right, that's why I'm here, but I wonder if I might ask why you are here? I thought you weren't going to fight for yourself?" you asked sarcastically.

"I'm the one who has the advantage with the power of thought. Physical strength is of no consequence against it."

"Then perhaps you've come to the wrong temple. You should go to the temple of Mercury."

"My lady, I am in the right place because I have come here to ask Mars to grant General Acacius absolute defeat.”

You clenched your hands into fists, your whole body filled with rage.

‘Once he's out of the way, there'll be no more obstacles between us. It'll be easy to get rid of Caracalla and Geta. Their names will be forgotten. Think of the power you and I will have if we marry.’

After a long period of frustration, you finally lost your temper and slapped him in anger. Gaius wasn't upset. In fact, he seemed amused as he touched the spot where you had slapped him. The imperial guard who had been protecting you interposed himself between the two of you. 

‘I'll never marry you, sir, don't even dream of it.’

‘It was your father's wish, I was with him when he wrote the letter-’ This time his eyes were sharp as he looked at you.

‘I'm not my father!’ The people praying on the steps of the temple turned to you when they realised your loud voice.

‘And he's not here, I'm Aurelia, and I decide my own life. Don't you ever threaten me again. Or my brothers. Especially the man I love.’

The imperial guard stepped forward nervously noticing people approaching you.

‘Princess Aurelia!’ 

You turned your head when someone called out your name. They quickly gathered around you, looking at you with sincerity and admiration. Gaius seemed uncomfortable with them.

One woman approached you and said, "My lady, we've heard that the General Acacius will fight for you, so we pray for his safety and survival.”

They had come here with the same intention as you, which made you very happy.

'The General has saved this city many times, we're grateful to him,' someone said.

'We're still breathing thanks to him!' another shouted. You looked at Gaius with a smile, a smile he knew the meaning of ‘Suck it’.

‘I think you’re done here, Sir Gaius.’

The crowd regarded him with a certain degree of displeasure, and some of them advanced towards him. Gaius retreated, nearly losing his footing on the stairs in the process. As he made his way out of the area, the crowd turned their attention to you. 

“Thanks to your prayers, General Acacius will hopefully achieve a victory today at the Colosseum.”

The crowd responded with joyous shouts. They were now shouting his name. As you smiled at them and descended the stairs, you noticed a familiar face ahead. Octavius was standing by his horse and, upon recognising you, approached you with haste.

‘My lady, you summoned me. 

You asked for him before you came to the temple because you wanted to speak to him about something.

'Yes, thank you for coming by.'

'Of course, my lady,' he bowed his head respectfully.

You gave him a smile. 'It seems you were right all along.'

He looked at you, surprised. 'I beg your pardon, my lady?'

“You always called me a lady, and you were right. I was. You were always kind to me, Octavius. Even when you knew I was a slave, you were always respectful, and I'm grateful to you for that.”

“The pleasure's mine, my lady. But may I ask why you wanted to see me?’

'As a good friend of the general, I wanted to ask you to take me to him before the fight.’

Octavius’ expression changed. 'My lady, with all due respect, this is no place for women.’

You looked at him with absolute determination. 'Otherwise I wouldn't have asked you to accompany me, would I?'

The Colosseum…

Hours before the battle…

The Colosseum had lots of rooms and underground passages. This was where animals and gladiators were kept, waiting to meet their fate in the arena above. It wasn't a straightforward place to get into, especially not for a woman.

Octavius was pretty nervous about letting you into this underground tunnel. If you'd asked the royal guards to do it, it'd probably have got back to Geta or Caracalla, who'd have wanted to stop or prevent you. But you had to see him before he steps into the arena.

However, your plan was about to be thwarted. The guards at the entrance to the large iron gate were quite big and stopped you. 

'There's no room for women here, so you'd better go back.' 

Even if you wore a cloak, your clothes and hair showed your physical features. So you decided to remove it.

"I'm Princess Aurelia. Let me through, please. I'd like to speak with General Acacius."

The guards looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Did they think you were lying?

'Why would a princess come with only one soldier?' one of the guards asked.

'I'm the general's second-in-command, Octavius. Let us through, now.' Octavius ordered.

'My lady!''

You heard a familiar voice and looked in that direction. It was Macrinus.

His voice came from inside, and soon he appeared at the door.

'How dare you keep the Princess waiting at the gate? Let her through, now!'

The men immediately bowed their heads, apologised and opened the gate.

'My lady, I think you're here to see the General?' His smile made you feel uneasy, as it always did.

Octavius picked up a torch and followed you at a safe distance, each sound echoing off the narrow walls as he travelled through the stone tunnels. 

"I understand your wish to see him for the last time.”

You stopped suddenly, your footsteps echoed through the cave-like walls.

"Sir Macrinus, if I may continue with Sir Octavius for the rest of the way."

Macrinus smiled and said, 'As you wish, my lady. I'm done here anyway. I'll see you upstairs in the stands.' He walked towards the door. You continued on your way, not letting his confident demeanour unnerve you.

'Oh, by the way, don't be scared when you see the tiger ahead, he can smell fear,' he said before walking out the door.

You couldn't believe your ears. Did he mean it metaphorically? You looked at Octavius, who didn't look surprised.

‘It's in a cage, don't worry,’ he explained.

‘Tiger, a real tiger?’ You raised your eyebrow.

‘Yes. There are many animals here, stay close to me, my lady.’

A little later, you came to a roundabout where another iron gate was waiting for you. This time, you could hear lots of voices coming from the corridors. You could hear lots of men, swords being sharpen, doors opening and closing, and a roar. When you saw the corridor where the animals were kept, you had a bit of a shock. The tiger was there, a big one, much bigger than you'd imagined when you'd heard its name. And it was just as scary. You stood there, frozen in fear, locked in its green eyes, as if it was trying to find where the fear was hiding inside you. It was an amazingly beautiful and an extremely dangerous predator. A moment later, it let out a roar as if it had found the fear. Octavius grabbed you by the shoulders as you jumped back, trembling with fear.

'Are you alright, my lady?' Let's head back if you're not feeling well.

You couldn't help but laugh hysterically. 'It's beautiful.’ you swallowed hard.

Octavius confused.

You tried to pull yourself together quickly and concentrate on the reason you had come here, but the tiger was so beautiful that you couldn't take your eyes off him. Before long, one of the guards prodded the tiger's hind leg with a spear. The animal let out a roar in pain but then collapsed and rested its huge head on its front legs.

The guard bowed to you and said, 'It's a dangerous animal, my lady. You shouldn't get too close.'

You nodded at him, but it was hard to believe that such a beautiful and dangerous animal could be so close. You could stare at it for hours.

'My lady, this way,' Octavius said, pointing  the other corridor. There were gladiators and other warriors in this corridor. All waiting to fight resting in dungeons, conditions were unfavourable. As you passed through them, you bowed your head, feeling their curious eyes on you. 

You felt regret taking off your cloak, because you were wearing a elegant dress that left your arms and neck exposed, and revealing that you belonged to the imperial family. You had Geta to thank for that, after all, lately he loved to interfere with your attire. 

“A princess?”

“Look at this beauty.”

“I would gladly die for you, my beautiful lady.”

A few masculine whistles and laughs, murmurs, you could feel your cheeks turning red, your mouth got dry. Hearing a few dirty comments, Octavius kicked the iron bars of the cell where they were being held.

“Shut the hell up!”

You fellt relief to move from this corridor to another, quieter one, where you saw a familiar face. It was Cato, the General's squire.

"My lady, sir." He greeted you. 

Instead of iron bars, there was an iron door and an armoury. It was filled with swords, axes, bows and arrows, shields and many other implements of war. 

"Is the General inside?" Octavius asked.

"Yes, I just helped him put on his armour," he said and knocked on the door.

You were nervous and excited, and when the door opened, Octavius nodded then looked at you.

You walked through the door with quick steps, met his eyes. The eyes you had come all this way for.

His eyes showed surprise and then anger.

“I'll leave you two alone.” Octavius closed the door and left to avoid her harsh gaze.

“What are you doing here,” he came toward you, so attractive even in his anger.

“I needed to see you, before...” you swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“It's not appropriate for you to be here, how could you do that?”

The general seemed to be wearing his leather armbands. 

“Let me,” you murmured and approached him. 

He held out his arm for you and waited, all the while keeping his eyes on you.

Once you finished, put your hands on his broad shoulders. Under your hands you felt the material of the leather armor he had just put on. It was the same armor he wore when you first met, with gold detailing on the edges and a medusa on his chest. His expression softened at your touch. 

"You always act without thinking," he said with a hint of disapproval.

"I've heard that before," you replied with a smile.

He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, his eyes tracing the outline of your lips. You could feel his gaze on them.

"You are my only weakness, your presence is the only thing that distracts me."

"Perhaps it would be best if I waited here for you? I don't want to watch anyway.”

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'd like you to sit there and watch me." He cupped your face between his hands, and you could feel your heart beating faster. "Because, my beautiful princess,, it's only you who gives me strength."

Marcus pressed his lips to yours and kissed you gently.

"I prayed in the temple for you to win," you whispered. "Marcus, you have to win. I can't bear to see anything happen to you."

"I will win, my lady. For you, for us." He kissed your forehead and embraced you.

You prayed the gods for the last time as you resting your head on his chest, your body in his arms. Suddenly the sound of drums startled you. Turned your head in the direction of the sound, accompanied by the sound of the crowd and whistles. Marcus pressed his lips to the top of your head and pulled himself back. 

“It's time, you'd better go now.”

You nodded. “I love you, Marcus.” your voice was shaking.

One of his heart-melting smiles appeared on his face.

“I love you more, my beautiful Aurelia.”

Ima Cavea… (tribune that reserved for the Emperor and senates)

“Sister, where were you? You were almost late.” Geta scolded you. You were pleased that Julia was sitting next to Caracalla, while you sat in one of the gold-embroidered seats belonging to the royal family next to Geta. The farther away from her the better it was for you. However, Gaius was sitting right next to you and smiling at you in a way that made you feel uneasy. You turned your head away from him and looked at Geta.

“What happened to your face?”

He rolled his eyes. “War makeup, if you hadn't gone to the temple earlier I would have given you this makeup too, tough luck sister.” he said pursing his lips.

“Good thing I preferred to go to the temple then,” you muttered. 

He laughed. Caracalla whispered something in his ear. Geta leaned toward you with a mischievous expression. “Would you like to give the opening speech?”

You gave him a stink-eye. He grinned with all his teeth at your expression. 

“Okay, I'll do it.”

He stood up and took a step forward, raising his arms in salute as the announcer announced his name to the crowd.

“People of Rome! We are gathered today for an epic closing to the last day of the festival. The day's champions of the auspicious ceremony, incredibly talented gladiators, will fight and stand for our beloved cousin Gaius Septimius Severus Aper!”

“He forgot to mention ‘consul ordinarius’ title of mine.” Gaius said, offended.

“No one cares,” you snapped.

Caracalla laughed hard, Geta joined him in, both looking at you like ‘good one’. You ignored them, not in the mood for jokes.

With the sound of drums and trumpets, the iron gates opened with roar and four gladiators entered the arena. You weren't an expert in fighting and you didn't have a lot of experience as a spectator, but you had a pretty good idea of what to expect. But why were there four gladiators? Caracalla stood up and came to Geta, applauding with excitement and joy. The gladiators stood in position in front of your tribune with their shields and spears and gave the salute.

��Ave Imperatores, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, those who are about to die salute you!”

“In fact, you should salute both us and our sister today,” he beckoned you to him. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting surely. Julia let out a hissing sound, and the senators murmured behind you. As you stood up, the crowd started to cheer louder. You took Geta's hand, tentatively at first.

“Princess Aurelia!” Crowded shouted.

You whispered to Geta as the crowd chanted your name.

“Wasn't there supposed to be a one-on-one fight?”

“That would be boring, wouldn't it, my dear?”

"Clearly you haven't had the opportunity to observe the General in combat before, Caracalla said, leaning towards you behind Geta. “Hurry brother, call him to show up, lets get them started at once,” he whined to him, clapping his hands.

Geta nodded, “And the man who will fight against them is known and respected by all of you, The Glorius General Marcus Acacius, commander of the southern armies, General of the Six Legions and protector of Rooome!”

Geta's loud cry was pretty deafening.

The soldiers who opened the other door for their General greeted him and wished him good fortune. The crowd roared as Marcus, sword in hand shining under the sunlight, the sands of the arena turning to dust beneath his feet as he stepped in front of the gladiators. You experienced a range of emotions simultaneously, including excitement, tension, fear unease. 

Marcus turned towards you, put his sword on his shoulder, nodded. 

“Ave Imperatores, ave Filia Regis, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, hail Princess, who are about to die salute you!”

Even though the word ‘about to die’ hurts, you smiled at him, and he bowed his head in response. 

“Begiiiin!” Geta shouted.

“Gods bear witneeeeess!” Caracalla joined him.

The crowd went wild with excitement, and the beat of the drums grew louder. Since the gladiators were discussing strategy and walking away from him Marcus turned to face the other way, looks very calm. It didn't seem fair that they had spears, swords at their waists and shields in their hands, but Marcus had only a sword. Had he specifically chosen it himself? It didn't make sense, and you were almost angry with Marcus for it. But you were about to be wrong. 

As one of the gladiators ran towards Marcus, he took a defensive stance, kicked the sand off the ground with the tip of his toe and darted towards him. In a swift and decisive move, he dodged his attack by spinning as if he was dancing and struck him hard with his sword from behind. Marcus quickly picked up the shield that had fallen from his hand and turned to the others, your eyes fixed on the sand where blood from the cut spread across the floor of the arena. You stared with your jaw dropped.

Geta and Caracalla looked at each other with laughter. They cursed and commented, their eyes fixed on the action. You observed Gaius, seated next to you, appearing somewhat disgruntled, which prompted a smile to emerge on your face. Yet you tensed again as the three remaining gladiators circling around Marcus. He glanced at each of them, ready for any attack. One of them roared and charged at him, pointing the tip of his spear at him, the long spear jabbed, but Marcus grabbed the tip of his shield, shoved it aside and charged at the gladiator, his great sword flashing. The gladiator swung his spear back, then thrust again. The metal screamed as the tip of the spear slipped from Marcus' shield, cutting the surface and leaving a long, shiny scratch. Another gladiator lunged with his spear, but Marcus turned quickly, allowing it to pierce the shield, but the gladiator could not get it back out and Marcus took advantage of it and swung his sword at him, cutting his exposed leg off. The man let out a cry of pain as blood began to flow from his wound, spreading across the sandy ground. Marcus made one last move and rushed after the other, cutting his neck and the gladiator's lifeless body sprawled on the sandy ground. Other gladiator grunted furiously. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Marcus's head. He avoided him easily. The crowd roared, whistling and Geta gave a hysterical laugh and clapped. You were uncertain as to how much more nervous you could become. You felt your heart beating in your throat. The two remaining gladiators exchanged glances and signalled to one another. Marcus observed them with his keen gaze, considering the most strategic approach to the upcoming confrontation, taking the movement of their feet into account. One of them made a quick lunge for his stomach, but Marcus was thrown back and it was ineffective. Marcus cut him, but not where he wanted, he missed.

Then, dodging at the last moment as the gladiator lunged for his right breast, he lunged for the tip of the spear. Marcus was close enough to strike suddenly, his sword gleaming in a blur of steel. The crowd screamed as well. As the tip of the spear was useless, the Gladiator threw it away and drew his sword, but Marcus was much faster, grasping quickly the spear that the other gladiator he had just cut down had left on the ground and thrusting it deep into his groin. The gladiator groaned in pain and staggered backwards, struggling to stand and finally collapsing to his knees. The last remaining gladiator, the banquet-show gladiator, Macrinus' and Geta's favourite, lunged angrily at Marcus. Geta stood up excitedly, Caracalla leaned forward to see better, and you put your hands together and began to pray. He was the gladiator you feared the most. 

Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang, sending the Marcus reeling. Gladiator followed, bellowing. They didn't use words anymore, just animalistic roaring.The gladiator was the first to move, throwing his spear at Marcus as he ran, missing. This time he drew his sword and lunged at him with a roar, throwing his shield at him as well, Marcus paused in the blink of an eye as the pain of the struck shield caused his elbow. But the sword was making several thrusts at him, and Marcus's retreat turned into a flight backwards, only inches in front of the great sword that cut through his chest, arms and wrist. You jumped to your feet, Marcus' cuts weren't very deep, but they were enough to make you cried out. 

Marcus heard you, but he had to pretend he didn't. He was determined to concentrate and get it over with. He ignored the pain of his cuts and looked at the gladiator, who was smiling triumphantly at him. 

Rejoice now while you can, Marcus thought.

He memorised the gladiator's footwork and swiftly planned his attack. The gladiator made the first move, his shiny sword grazing the surface of Marcus' shield with a deafening sound. Marcus seized the opportunity and brought his sword down on the gladiator's head. But it was a ruse. As the gladiator raised his sword to retaliate, Marcus slashed his muscular thigh and kicked him to the ground. The gladiator was dazed by the fall, and Marcus stepped on his hand with his foot, taking the sword from him and hurling it across the arena.The crowd cheered, and Geta gave a standing ovation and shouted with joy.

'What a battle!'

'It's over too soon,' Caracalla grumbled. You were starting to relax a little, but the blood dripping from Marcus's shoulder wasn't helping. When he glanced back at you, you smiled and hoped he saw it.

The crowd suddenly started shouting in unison. 

‘KIll! KIll! KIll!’

Marcus looked at Geta. With his arm outstretched, everyone eagerly awaits his decision. But you could already see it in his honey-coloured eyes. Geta turned his thumb down.

The crowd went wild again, cheering and screaming. Marcus looked down at the gladiator, who was barely breathing, lying on the ground. He raised his sword and the man closed his eyes. Marcus may have fought like a beast, but he was no bloodthirsty villain. He brought the sword down swiftly and it stabbed through the sand right next to the gladiator's head. The crowd fell silent. Murmurs replaced the shouts. Geta frowned. Caracalla leaned down from the balustrade in frustration. 

‘What the hell is he doing?’

‘Kill him!’ Geta shouted. 

You were so moved by Marcus's behavior that your eyes filled with tears. 

Soon the crowd was shouting the chant once used for the great General Maximus. 

‘Marcus the merciful!’

Marcus smiled at them and made a gesture of respect, honouring his former commander.

'That's just like him,' Geta commented.

Caracalla made a face. You were happy and proud of him, you couldn't be more in love with him.

Marcus walked towards to you while the crowd chanting his name and his new nickname. 

'My Emperors, I fought for you and I won, and I believe I have a right to claim what is rightfully mine.' His eyes shifted to you. It was hard not to throw yourself from where you stood into his strong arms.

Geta laughed, applauding him.

"Naturally, our champion will receive what he deserves." He gazed at you and said, "Let us begin preparations for the wedding of General Acacius and our sister Princess Aurelia at once."

You felt a slight blush come over your cheeks as the crowd expressed their enthusiasm by chanting and cheering your names. Caracalla sat back in his throne and appeared to be somewhat disgruntled. Gaius had already departed. Then the iron gates of the arena opened, and the General was surrounded by his soldiers, who embraced him joyfully, including Octavius. Geta was observing you as you smiled at Marcus with joy, and he was surprised to realise that for the first time in his life he was experiencing a sense of happiness for someone else. 

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3

[punk-in-docs]

A song of broken skin and fated lovers: part V

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 7.1k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V —

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! There’s some description of wounds and if you squint some dub con. Proceed daintily loves-

It seemed your dreams were the only place you could reliably escape too. The only plain you’d find any peace.

You picture the hill before your home. Every night away from home you dreamt you’d be walking up it. Feeling the dappled shade of olive trees curling above on your skin. Passing along your back in freckles. Dotted light, spots of shade interspersed.

Your soft skirt swishing around bare calves. The creak of your sandals meeting the dusty road. The one that kinks and bends and shows you that endless glimpse of searing ocean waiting just beyond. Aegean water. Sage fields. Boundless heavens.

You remember these fields. You played in them as a child. The ones that thrash with soft grasses. Ruffled by salty sea air. You can hear your sisters laughter brushing along to you like sweet blossom petals garnished on the wind. Sweet and calming. Crushed honeycomb and milk.

A sound as familiar and as comforting to you as their calls and voices that make the shape of your name.

Every night in your dreams you walk up this hill.

Every night you come home.

You can see them - your sisters - on the winding ribbon of the road ahead. Running out the front door of the house. Tullia with her dress flying behind her. Ever decorous eldest. Calling to Diana, with her hair falling in waves and telling her younger sister that ladies don’t run. Diana isn’t listening she’s too joyous. Too forthright to pay attention.

And Ceres. Sweet little Ceres sprints for your arms. Gap toothed grin. Clutching her cloth doll. Skirts held past her knees, she runs for you.

You can see mother in her dark plum linen stola. Gold jewellery on her neck and dangling from her ears. She lingers in the shade of the the hallway. Her dark wavy hair shot through with a fierce bolt of silver - lightning struck - at her temples. Radiant. As she watched from the door with a smile at their graceless display.

Her smile wide and brilliant, you always thought so, exactly as you remember it, as crows feet sit by her eyes. Emboldened and etched deep with her mirth. Hers is a face that has seen years of sun and sea spray. Made serene as placid waters by it. She is tanned and weathered elegantly by decades of watching sunshine bouncing like rows of diamonds off the sea. Salt and sea foam as hemmed in her blood as it is in yours.

You run to them - crying and wailing - feet slapping the dirt and dust, and you’re aching, legs burning, lungs aflame and you won’t stop. Calling their names til your throat is as dry as the dust below your feet.

Then the sun is too bright. It’s too far and you can’t see them. They can’t hear you. Swallowed from your grasp.

There’s just blinding light engulfing them just out of reach of your scraping fingertips. It’s like brushing grains of sand. It tumbles away before it grows into actuality. Your fingers brush empty air as your whole being lurches and mourns.

You jolt awake, body clammy and sheened in sweat. Eyes snapping open as you jerk upwards in the cover of fine smooth sheets. You feel your hair slip over your naked shoulders. Jewels and gold still around your neck. Sunshine blares harshly at your crusted eyes.

Aches and pains come swimming back to you in sharp degrees. Bruises on your neck and your hips. Fading to ugly yellow black already. Bite marks ring your collarbones and the meat of your shoulders.

Out the window you can hear a bustling city. The clamour of crowds. Hot sun baked dirt and filth. Bells peeling from temples. Servants scurrying in the courtyards below and beyond. Horses baying in the streets.

You smear sleep from your eyes, twisting over in the huge slab of a bed to see the sheets behind you are still filled.

Geta slumbers on golden pillows under the same sheets as you. On his back with bis face turned to the sun. Arm slung over his belly. The thin sheets stick to the climes and outlines of his body. His stomach. Thighs. Hips. The heavy bulge between his legs.

His expression seems almost gentle in his rest. Pillowy lips and dark lashes kissing onto his cheeks. Kohl still smeared on his eyes from yesterday. Naked same as you, save for golden decorations, jewelled rings…

A wedding ring. Matching bands. That’s the weight that comes crashing down on you so fiercely.

Acid bile claws it way up your throat when you shift your legs. Finding the edge of the bed with a breathy sigh. The stickiness between your legs and dried around your cunt doesn’t bear thinking about. You screw your eyes shut so as not to think about it.

Stirring silk. Rustles from behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going wife?” Comes a sleepy drawl across the pillows and sheets. Slithering across to you. Husky from his slumber.

You swallow and twist your head over your shoulder. Hair matted and twined close from sleep. Bite marks wedged deep in your back and neck throb as you move.

His eyes are lidded heavy but their burning gaze rests on you. Branding like a hot knife. White hot from the fire. You’re beginning to think that gaze of his always will.

“I’m not used to having my bed filled in the mornings. The kind of company I’m used to promptly leaves after the pleasuring is done.” He explains. Inflection of lust in his tone. He smirks with it. Wide and filthy.

Now he has a little plaything to trap into his bed whenever he feels like it. An ornament he can use and decorate his already gilded arm, and bring out to inspire envy in all peoples of Rome.

You pause where you sit on the bed. Caught.

“I wanted to fetch some water.” You grovel. Voice scraping raw. Throat feeling full of sharp rocks when you speak.

His eyes harden. Laychromose, but deepening with his anger. The way he slips into intimidation if he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. The way he snaps his fingers and has this world uncurl and offer itself up to his desires. That too must apply to you. Your role now was obedience in all things.

Bend and break and mould yourself for your husband, little nymph.

“You may… when your emperor is finished with you.” He plays and toys with your emotions at his whims. Eyes intently gazing at you. His words come with a bladed meaning.

“Come here-“ He orders. Voice softer but the command cuts straight to your spine. Arrowhead sharp. Studs deep.

You curl back into the bed. Back stiff. Trying not to wince at the cuts which burn and tear at your skin. You feel the pull and tug of barely closed wounds. His teeth had drawn blood. You feel the congealing wound at your back shift. The scab lifting. A bead of blood rolls over down your shoulder blade.

He notices. Shifts on his side behind you. Curls a hand to the hill of your hip. Catches that drip of blood with his lips. Savours it. Sea foam flavour of you bedded on his tongue.

The warm stinging path of his tongue on your back takes your mind back to what happened in these sheets hours previous.

How he’d pushed your thighs, widened your legs, opened the bowl of your pelvis and drunk from you. Showed you the various ways a man can please his lover with tongue, lips and hungry teeth.

He’d done it til you shivered and begged. Tried to writhe away. He meanly tugged you back where you belonged, bullied you, recaptured in the cradle of his hands, and did it again. Smirked when you asked for clemency.

“I warned you I was without mercy, Salacia.” He’d leered. His smirking lips and sharp teeth shining with you as he smeared his warm nose against your thigh. Slaked in the taste of you from chin to cheek. Makeup running under his Umbrian eyes. Panting like a beast to your skin and because of the scent he finds synonymous with you. Lemons and salt.

He hovers behind you now. Hands sliding for your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Breath tainted copper. Pressing his lips to bruises and tender spots. You were right. He had to achieve to sting of pain in order to feel something.

He dips his mouth to your neck again. Lapping and nursing a new bruise near an already painful one. Layering pain on pain.

His hand slips lower for your thigh. Warm stones in each of his fingers foreign and hard as he slips his hand between the soft of your legs again.

He’d moaned when you’d grabbed his hair or left nail marks in his large arms and shoulders. He liked that he could draw an emotion out of you. Even if it was overstimulation or desire. He’ll match and meet you in either. As he so wishes.

He’s pleased to find you tacky with the remnants of him from the previous evening. “A fine fruitful offering for your beautiful cunt my wife.” He purrs. Fingers delving deeper to your sex. Rings nearly an unwelcome sensation. “In time mayhaps the gods will bless us.”

Hallowed Saint. Hallowed fate. Bestowed by the gods, he says.

You’d say it was more akin to downfall. Curses and ill fate. Tantalus and his fruit. Medusa and her coiled snakes. Actaeons fateful stag.

He noses onto your jawbone. Fascinated by the scent of you still. Smothered all over these sheets. It grew stronger the longer he was near you. In his sleep it smothered his mind, his every second. Lemons, salt, and you-

He loses himself, mouthing to your neck and into the wild nest of your hair. He inhaled you. Drank the essence of you like a starving peasant. Hungry greedy hands.

“What is about that scent of yours that drives me wild? What is it?” He seeks. Almost angry in his demands.

“Lemon oil. For my hair.” You explain weakly as he plucks and grabs at you.

Descending into lustful madness. He catches the ripe berry of your clit with his rings and it makes you gasp. Bucking back to his chest. He likes that. When a little of your feral reaction to his touch makes you buck and lose your usually placid control. The man is taunting the seas and welcoming in a storm.

“Use it. Always.” He ordered huskily, Huffing as your hair sticks to his lips. Melding with the salt of ocean that he now understands beats through your skin and veins.

He would order ten thousand lemon trees to be bought here just for your use.So he can kiss your shoulders and your skin and always find it brimming with the bright note of that yellow fruit.

A small surrendering of your body as you arch back to him. Having pleased him brings something forth in you: something that eases. His pleasure allows you to relax the stiffness of your spine. Lower your guard.

He tugs your hair out the path of his lips. Delights in the evidence he found of his teeth all over your neck. His claim was skin deep. And he soon hoped it would be even deeper.

You are tugged back to the bed so his hands can wander all over you again. Your back curled to his chest as he lays you on your side. His hand sliding for your thigh to widen you open for him. Behind your hips you feel the hard length of him. He guides himself to you and your breath gets punched out of you as he pushes inside.

He pushes your leg open further to move to you deeper. He delights in finding evidence of your restless wedding night squelching deep inside your cunt. Throws his head back and groans with it.

He moulds his body to yours. Tacky skin. Warm cotton sheets kicked down the bed. Ringed metal and sharp jewels on every finger gripping the fat of your leg tight until he’s sure he’d left marks. Holding you open so he can plunge inside.

Your hand finds his where he crushed one breast in a grip so tight it makes tears spring to your eyes. Melding with the pleasure you cannot deny coming forth as he moves his hips to you so fiercely, your skin smacks where you meet.

Despite the sting of pain from being so overused, to way his fingers reach down to knowingly pinch and caress your clit where you’re spread open around him, makes wordless cries come out your throat. You clutch into the sheets and grit your teeth. His breath muggy hot against your neck. His hair a mess. Golden and fiery. Like stomped down wheat stalks at sunset. A lazy Bacchusian god.

“Let your husband hear you.” He encourages. Your moans and sweet as rare wine. Inbetween sucking and biting your neck. Asking for your sounds of ecstasy like he deserves them. A holy offering that praises him and washes away all sin.

“I don’t think you are goddess of the sea my love. With a cunt this sweet and tight? I think you must be a fertility goddess instead.” He proposes into your ear through harsh chuffs for breath.

“So tight. So fucking Intoxicating” he huffs. Cupping your tits and still moving to you as harshly and deep as he’s able.

He makes sure your breath cannot come as you steal his. A warm sweaty palm on your chin twists your head back to his. He anoints your lips with a messy kiss that echoes with the ghost of last nights wine and the tang of salt from between your legs. His tongue licks over your teeth. He drags every part of you up for devouring.

A commotion over by the door takes your mortified eyes over.

You see Aeliana and some of her maids coming in. When they see you both naked in the bed with Geta thrusting into you like a madman, you watch her eyes blow wide with shame. Head bowing. Arms laden with todays gown for you to wear. She halts the girls by her side.

Geta doesn’t even spare them a look. They are below his divine notice. He manages to lever his mouth off yours for a mere few seconds, to bark his orders and send them scurrying.

“Get out.” He shrieks. Voice ringing through you with the harshness of the sudden shout.

You twist your head into the sweat slicked pillow. Ashamed that they’d even just glimpsed you being used so.

His spit drying on your chin. His hand possessively cupping your cunt again as he fucked you so deeply, something tender within your pelvis had you nearly wailing.

His mouth goes to your neck again. His pace growing faster and faster. Sloppier. Noises of your sex only increasing. His hold on you is so intense it’s an ache. His fingers trailing through your curls and your folds to find that spot that will surrender you entirely to him.

He rears up behind you. Skin glued with heat to yours. He grabs you close as if you’ll fade under his fingertips like smoke. Hips hammering as he reached his pleasure. Yours came snapping down on him not long after.

That telltale tip and then the surge of ecstasy that broke through you. Cunt snapping down right around his cock as you came in shudders. Pulsing through you as his spend burst deep into you. Exactly where he wanted it. Wave after wave of pleasure. You let it take you. Little else you could do. Your strength to fight had turned stone cold.

You laid against him in cooling sheets. Listening to his chasing breath behind you. Feeling the wet and heat between your legs twofold. His sweat drips onto your back. Smeared as he laps at your neck. Fresh bruises and teeth indents are more raw than before.

You can barely notice. You’re more taken with the way your pussy squishes as he pulls free. The hot rush of his spend.

Hot breath comes over your ear again. You shudder and you’re not entirely sure it’s of pleasure. His lips kiss to your jaw and cheek. All this sweat and sex soaked skin. and still he finds lemons in your taste when he kisses you.

“Shall I have the maid fetch you water?” He seeks.

“I shall do it.” You shrink down with sex flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the bed with a wince. Hair draping down your back as you take a smooth sheet from the bed with you. Padding to the side. Hips swaying under the cotton. Your pelvis and thighs feel tender and aching - low and bone deep like sun burn - as you move to the amphora and goblets you’d used last night.

He sits on his elbows to watch you. Uncovered, cock laying soft against his thigh. His thighs and groin sticky-wet with evidence of your joining. Unabashed as to his naked state.

His eyes are hungry and you certainly give him a feast to watch. Clad in sunshine from the great maw of the window. Skin littered with violent red and purple marks in odes to his ownership of you. The smeared blood from bites at your back that he’d licked away.

You stand at the side. Laying your hands flat to the table where the jug stood. You found you didn’t reach for it right away. You looked at the very unfamiliar sight of the wedding band in your finger. The gold surrounded by the two dog heads fighting over the sapphire. A helpless jewel caught in between rabid teeth. How fitting.

Your shaking hands pour clear water into a cup and you drink it all quickly. The taste of metal and sleep fading from your tongue.

Bare feet padding the floor come behind you. The rustle of a fine robe. The red and gold one. He’s barely bothered to tie it closed around his chest.

“I must go and ready for the day. Loathe as I am to depart your blissful company.” He says. His hand slipping round the back of your neck. Bringing you in. Tasting the new wetness on your tongue as he kisses you. You muffle a moan to his lips as he possesses you in a kiss again. Squeak a little as he pulls away.

You don’t know what else there is to say.

Enjoy your gilded cage, little nymph. It’s all you’ll know from now on.

“Wear jewels and something pretty. I’ll come find you later. Wife.” He promises with a salacious smirk. Eyes you up and down like he wants to tear that sheet off and bend you over the lectus here and now. Smack the fat of your ass and claim you again.

A dark smile aimed your way. A thumb on your chin to bring you in for one more lippy kiss. And he’s off - stalking toward the doors. A lascivious look shot your way as he turns away.

You say nothing. You feel nothing. Nothing except for empty hollow rage that shakes through you. Pounds at the bony trap your ribs. Enough for you to shiver even in the warm morning air.

You feel scraped through. Brittle like fraying rope. He’s taken you from your home. Exiled your father. Forced shame upon your family. Killed your brother. Pushed his twisted lust upon you, and now expects you to react as if it’s dressed up in love.

You floated into his life like a midsummer’s night breeze. And he found you breathtaking, enchanting. Now he had you he wanted to cup you close. Seal you to his skin with his nose buried in the crown of your head whilst crowing mine mine mine.

He was in two minds of what to do with you. Cherish you, love you, pour crimson rose petals before your steps. On the other hand, he only knew violence when it came to love and to lust. He wanted to break you apart piece-by-piece like dry clay. Tear at you like those tigers in the coliseum and see what’s left.

He’s never known what to do with his things when it comes to love. Maybe he didn’t even know it at all. Only knew how to demand and take. Never to please or to give. He’s never had too.

And now he expects mightily. For you to sit pretty and wear jewels, rings, gold, and fine stolas. Support his every shrieked command. You must learn to sew your mouth shut and keep your opinions tamed back behind that same silent closure of thread.

An Empresses role was silence. How your soul quakes with that new pain.

The huge doors rattle again. The exit of the Emperor meant the maids were safe to come tend you.

Aeliana walks towards you. You raise your eyes to hers. Wet and wide. Tears on the quivering brink of your lashes.

She is unable to hide the noticeable switch of shock in her expression, when she sees the wounds you’d been saddled with. Teeth marks and bruises. Like you’re a slab of meat and not a cherished spouse.

She cannot fathom how you have more cuts for her to soothe balm on after your wedding night.

“Let’s get you to the baths, Empress.” She soothes. Opens her arm. Encouraged you to follow. She tries a bolstering smile but you both know it’s fragile. Her husky voice is the only kind thing you fear you’ll ever hear in this rotten place.

You nod. Swallow. Stand tall and let her manoeuvre you.

You can allow some tears to slip free when you’re in the water. Then you must banish your feelings. The maids must strap finery and silks onto your body again and truss you up in this farce. You steel every last splitting nerve whilst you can. Tamp them down. Gather the ragged ends up and soothe them. Clutch tight.

Naked, you wade down the steps and sink under the surface of the huge bath.

You’re tempted to not come up for air again. The water lulling you in its cradling warmth like an old familiar companion. As if a siren that you let drag you down. Plunge headlong into waves and succumb.

Unlike Odysseus, you don’t have the strength to fight its pull.

The bite on your shoulder turns the water clouded and rusty.

One salient thought gives you solace as the world around you grows numbs to your ears.

Atleast he drank deeply from the lies you’d fed.

~

Many sun and moons had set since your wedding night. Time marches its onward parade in the beautifully rotten imperial palace.

Geta and Caracalla were summoned to a Imperial Consul with the senators. To discuss the matters of their particular wish to expand the Roman empire to Persia and India. And possibly beyond that. They held Rome and all her starving subjects in a gold fisted vice. Refused to relent like a bratty child clutching a beloved toy. One that they would rather break to splinters in their grasp than see it enjoyed by someone else.

That was not the way of the gods, after all. It was their damn birthright.

They both slouch in their sloping marble carved chairs, in front of the rows of Senators, as the magistrate drones through the Verba fecit. Then they would read the protocols to address problems within the city.

Geta is not attempting to look amused or even mildly interested.

He slurps at a golden goblet of dark wine. A scowl like rolling thunder on his face. Dark eyes smouldering at any old senator who dares contest his gaze. Garbed in gold with rings on every finger. His black and gold silken robes folded in his lap, spilling to the ground.

Caracalla appears more interested in feeding grapes to Dondus. His manic grin shining. Gold tooth glittering in the half dim as he laughs. His creatures chirps and shrieks accompany the low drone of the voices rolling around the great marble room. Bounding off the pillars and echoing back.

Geta ground his jaw tight as he flickered a look to the side and caught sight of the very thing that had begun to vex him from the second he stepped into these chambers. Set far back behind him. Amongst the senators seats.

Your cushioned lectus remained vacant.

He grips his wine goblet too tight. fingers strangling the stem. His attention was brought back to the room as Senator Thraex cleared his throat. Summoning back his attention.

“… I would also like to wish you joy on your recent union. Caesar…. You have bestowed a fine and fair Empress onto Rome and her peoples…”

Geta narrows his eyes at the man. Coaxing out the rest sharply. Or else.

“Yet I cannot help but notice It has been four moons now since the Empress graced us with her presence here at counsel…. I do wonder if all is well. As Rome does deserve the full compliments of its masters here to guide us.”

Geta ground his teeth around an answer. The room throbs in the heady silence as he glares. Punctuated only by the monkeys chitters and the shuffling of Senators gazing at each other in arch amusement as to the meaning of the levied comment.

“The Empress is occupied elsewhere at present. I should hope you are not suggesting me and my brother are lacking in our duties in any way. Senator.” He replies curtly. Eyes thunder heavy and dragging over the dry old man. Umbrian danger.

“Of course not. Sire.” Thraex replied. Seeming unimpressed with the answer. “If you’ll permit me I should like to discuss the issue within the city of what is to be done of taxes within the Porta Capena quarter…”

Geta sunk into his cup again as the Senators droned on. His mood plunged below foul. Jaw tight. He turned to look at the lectus again. Venom in his blood at your absence.

When counsel finished. He stormed from his seat without another word. Robes sweeping the ground as he raced from the room. Sandals meeting the floor like slaps. Rage evident in his stride. He summons the nearest Praetoria. Who promptly comes to his side.

“Where is the Empress?” He snarls. A snake in coil about to strike. Bad enough he had to suffer the thinly veiled barbs of Senators asking why you were absent. Even worse was that you made him look a fool without even being here. They were casting foul allusions as to your marriage.

The guard hesitates before giving an answer. “She has left the Palace, Caesar.” He answers.

Geta’s anger comes sharp and packed in poison. A hiss. He asks so curtly it echoes to the ceiling. “And precisely where has she gone?”

~

At first, the noise and bustle of Rome was repugnant to you. Rancid and dirt and heat. Too much noise and not enough air.

Made putrid by stale sweat en masse bodies, horse manure, and smoke from fires mingling with roasting meat or oily charred fish from street vendors.

There was always shouting, someone selling wine, someone selling exotic wares, and bartering filling the air. Music bleeding from some side alley. Jugglers and slight of hands weaving through the crowds of servants and nobles and peasants, ready to part people from their coin.

You watch and just listen to it all from where you’re seated. A palla folded around your head and neck to block the otherwise fierce sun, also to obscure your features, give you shade wherein to hide your golden jewellery and rich dress.

Though you doubt anyone in this riotous city knows or even cares who you are. To a glance? You are just another rich merchants wife. Or noble woman. Unseen. Unremarkable. You do admire Rome for that small mercy atleast. To make you invisible in a crowd of thousands.

You’re seated at the edge of the fountain. The marble lip cold under your dress. Your hand dangling down into the clean waters. Trailing your fingertips through the cool of it. Water shimmers off the blue stones and pearls of your rings. If you squint, they are treasures cast on the shore. You can imagine you see specs of sand. Golden shells. Milky pearls waiting to be picked - tucked cosily in cream oyster shells.

You try to pretend. You fail.

Your personal praetorian guard lingers not far away. Varro. A perpetual huge shadow to you since your wedding.

Geta told you the morning after that you were to have him watch over you at all times. The man has been hulking after your every footstep since. It’s cloying, but nowhere as much as that palace is.

Varro boasts a huge figure and not one to be easily missed in a crowd. A warriors build. A scowl that could curdle milk. He’s solid. Brawny thick chest, stocky as a barrel, thighs thick as tree trunks, large arms and immense shoulders even without his plates of armour.

He had a proud chiselled face, dark hazel eyes and a prominent nose that had been broken before. Evidence of a pinking scar bumping at the bridge of it. Also a small nick dissecting his lower lip. His life had known pain. You can tell. Typical soldiers life. A body cut from the cloth of war. From polishing armour, baying for unease, and stepping to commands.

It’s hewn in the way he carries himself in crowds. Darting eyes and not feeling at ease, or any kind of sane, unless he can see all four clear corners around himself - and you. And convinced danger lurks behind every brick corner and down every side street. Huge hand permanently slung over the pommel of his sword. A warning.

He stands a little way across from you now. Looming proud as an old oak in the shade of a building and a market stall slung with rich cloth for sale. Shirking the sun and scowling at everyone. Basalt black hair falls like long thorns over, down his brow. Down the nape of his neck and collar, beaded in sweat.

Children scarper around him. Street urchins that clamour like flies on rot at his appearance. He gives no inch and tells them to move along with a curt nod. Steel stiff spine standing to attention. A merchant tries to sell him a cup of wine - red or white - they are silenced by his frown. He won’t touch a drop whilst on duty. Truth be told, You don’t think he knows how to be off duty. He’s not capable.

He’s an austere reminder of your station. Almost literally, in his dark black plate armour and wisteria purple cape swinging from his wide shoulders. A storm cloud eternally perched on the horizon of your day. His words come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve heard him string two full sentences together once. Except possibly in daggered warning;

You draw too much attention. Empress. It is bound to invite trouble.

You wanted to scoff at that irony.

You? In your hooded palla, draw attention?

When it is he, the man who guards you - like a grizzled dog - who is a thick immovable column of uniform widely recognised as imperial praetoria, wherever you turn in these streets? Unfathomable.

I am going to temple to pray. You may either escort me. Or explain to my husband why I have gone into the capital, alone.

His answer was a gruff glare. Acceptance and frustration entwined.

You have caused him to furrow his dark brows at you several times with a “Yes, Empress.” That came dragged through a displeased drone. A hound showing you his teeth before the jaws snap. Having to escort you into the city each day was laying contrary to his regulations to not have you in harms way.

You insisted. He obeyed. With little choice in the matter.

Every day you came here. One corner of the beating, shouting heart of Rome. You went to the Temple of Vesta and you prayed. And you went to a public fountain and let real life ebb in upon you once again. To find some peace away from the rabid emperors, who blaze at the palace with all the ferocity of fiery twin suns. They encompass all. Left little room for anything else. All life revolved around them. You float off in distant orbit.

You wave your fingers through the cool water. Tethered to one small piece of home again. Cool tides that brought you comfort. Reminded you of the sun soaked shores of home. Sunlight fracturing in diamonds off clear blue waters.

Feeling the sun beat down now on your neck through layers of cloth. You cast your eyes over the monuments to Neptune sat in this ornamental fountain. Sea gods and goddesses and creatures of sea foam. The other side where you are, women are washing clothes, or chatting over baskets fetched from market. You can smell perfumed oils, dried flower petals, and the sweet plump of ripe fruits tucked safe in the shade of their baskets.

How wild it is that until four weeks ago, that too had been your life. You didn’t sleep on silken sheets, get trussed in gold, and have servants poised so you never had to even lift a finger.

You knew comforts - of course. You had fine clothes and didn’t have to toil the fields. But you weren’t beyond spinning cloth or running errands. Helping clean and tidy your home. Fetching food or helping prepare meals. Coming home from market in the small town with oiled fish, scorpion fish, or boar, fresh chestnuts or olives. Dried meats sometimes too.

You thought of the olive trees lining the road to town. Huge and ancient. Offering branches that white doves often sat in - cooing away their calls. You thought of buying chestnuts for Ceres because she adored them so. Goats cheese for your mother that she liked with honey. Bunches and bunches of aniseed to make into Canistrelli biscuits for father.

The happy creak of your basket on your arm. Feeling the sun tangle in your hair as you shaded your eyes, felt the sea kissed breeze caress along your arms and back as if an embrace of a lover.

All those things you’d lost in one fell swoop. A life that had been snatched from you without your even getting a chance to bid it goodbye. Just like your brother. Your father.

And here you were now. Hiding away in the crowds. So lonely you felt its sting like the deepest shrapnel. A wound never closing. Always being prodded some more by the dire aspects of your circumstances. Anything to not be trapped in your gilded cage. Being reminded daily that your one use in that foul place, lay solely between your legs.

Two small girls come stumbling to an ungraceful stop, laughing, breathless and slowing from a run. They come right to your side to fill some amphorae with water. Dunking the clay jug into the clear water and letting it fill.

They each have dark hair and dark eyes. One must be close to Ceres’ age of six, toddling, milk teeth smile, youthful weight clinging to her cheeks, the other slightly older. Longer hair and a fuller smile. They have flowers pinched from a stall stuffed in their rusty coloured linen apron pockets. Some bay laurels and cornflowers.

You smile warmly at them. They smile back, unabashed. Joy seeping out of them. That brand of innocent fearlessness that grasps the young.

Turning your head you hear the clank of armour, feet shifting fast on dirt. Varro steps towards you with his scowl and his hand already on his sword.

You reprimand him silently. Gaze packed in ice. Jaw set. Mouth flicking to a grim line. You calmly hold up your hand and motion for him to step back. He’d scare the poor things.

You feel a gentle tug on your dress where it splays at your shoulders. Turning back, you see the younger one has her small hand on your dress.

You gently return your hand to your side. Seeing what she wanted your attention for. They both looked at Varro with much wide eyed curiosity. Only very rich ladies could afford a soldier. Only those of very high status. You fear he’s just betrayed your standing.

“Pardon me…” She utters. Her unsure voice carefully picking over the words. As if she was still learning larger words and their uses.

“Yes?” You smile. Touched by her boldness. Treating her with gentility.

“Are you the Empress?” She seeks. Forming words slowly. A curious tilt of her head.

You see no reason to lie.

You can feel Varros eyes burning a glare into your back. Harsher. More furious than the sun. Don’t.

“I am.” You respond.

They smile as if excited. Sharing a look. Both each producing a small laurel sprig from their stuffed pockets. They each step forwards and present the small branches out to you. A gift. You lay your hand flat and accept them both. Curling your fingers around branch stems.

“Gods blessings be upon you, Empress.” They speak in clunky unison.

You take the branches with reverence. Feeling the smooth leaves. The verdant and subtle scent coming from them.

“Pray tell me. What are your names?” You enquire.

The eldest speaks first. “Amata, Empress.”

The youngest follows suit. “Junia, Empress.” She tells you proudly.

You reach for your purse. Stowed safely within your dress folds away from the hands of beggars. You pluck out two coins and place them in their small hands. Junias hand reminds you if a small pudgy starfish. Curling round a silver shell.

“Blessings be upon you both. Amata. Junia. For your kindness…” You beam to them both.

They shimmer with mirth. Taking their jugs and scampering away through the crowds like nymphs.

Varro appears at your shoulder like an omen. “Empress.” He says your name lowly. Chiding you with his tone alone for revealing yourself to them.

“Surely two little girls holding flowers in their pockets, pose no danger to me.” You reply archly. Watching across the crowds where they’d disappeared.

“I only seek to resupply you of my one duty.”

“I don’t need reminding.” You tell him. Not unkindly. But he can hear the way you might be tempted to let the words be sharpened to little blades off your back teeth.

He’ll say this for you; you don’t have sharp teeth or poisonous tongue like every other noble in that palace. You are made different to their spoilt ways. Something sleeker and softer. All foam whipped off waves. You can sting and lash if required - you simply choose not too.

You hear bells toll for midday from the temple beyond. Clanging off the golden stone of every building around you. You fancy you can see the ripple of the sound sending waves to burst across the fountains surface.

Varro is giving you that stern look that urges you to be heading back. Before you’re started to be noticed. Before you become a perfidious gap in your Emperors day, when he isn’t vying for blood, gold or war. That or applying himself ruthlessly to the detriment of this great city, crushing his own people in the same way his favourite wine is made. Squeezing every drop til dry.

You hate to return. But you fear what wrath will come if you don’t. The thought of slipping away into these crowds and dipping into another form of life mocks you. Cowardice curbs your actions.

With some of the meagre coin in your pocket, you could try and make for the coast, possibly. You could disguise yourself as a merchants wife, or a servant. Anything to slip the golden net you’ve been landed in.

You wonder how far you’d make it, running away like a common ruffian, before the stomping hooves of a Roman battalion would be on your heels. Snatching you back here to be humiliated at Geta’s own insistence. The punishment he’d dole on you doesn’t bear thinking about. You were property after all.

You watch men and women weave in and out of the crowds, wishing you had half their luck as to put your back to this palace and peel away. Your mind wanders over that idea. A faint ember that dies to a curling puff of smoke. Snuffed out.

It doesn’t bear thinking about-

You take your offered laurel branches and stand. Varro takes up his guard. Eyes flicking all around. Searching for those corners he requires. For that split second of danger he can cleave his sword onto treasonous limbs for your protection.

You make your way back through crowds. Varro cutting a swathe for you. You keep your head down and remain quiet. Mind vacant as you move through the paved streets.

A flash of a body pushing past you takes your attention down a side alley. One arched with fabric awnings thrown over merchants stalls.

The flash of white turned out to be a senators robe. The vivid plum purple bordering white. You bat away the bitter thought of once recognising it as your fathers noble robes.

You catch sight of three people, stood on a street corner. One of them you don’t recognise but you know him to be a Senator. The two people he’s stood conversing with does make you stop in your tracks.

General Acacious and Lady Lucilla.

They are conversing deeply. Attention not given to you where you stand on the other side of the street. Shade cloaks them all. A moment out the sun. A place they hope guards them in obscurity. Talking with each other in hushed tones. Marcus and Lucilla wear hoods so as to hide their fine features from any obvious recognition.

The crowd trickles on around you. Water carving on around a large rock in the way.

Lady Lucilla raises her eyes. They flash to you in an instant. Dazzling green. A sun dappled meadow holding you in sight.

Her face falls as she halts her words. Lips parting. The General and the Senator both turn to follow her gaze. Finding you, caught static, at the other end of it. You recognise a prickle of panic when you see it.

You turn your head. Eyes snapping away as you hold your skirts and continue on.

Your guard says nothing. Though you know he saw what you just did. It’s not his place. He forgets all he sees or hears - all that doesn’t pose risk to you.

Maybe you weren’t the only person in Rome to wish the Palace walls didn’t have treasonous eyes and ears. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps Varro was right;

There is danger round these street corners in Rome.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[dailymonraszkic]

Watching all the fanfics in the fandom being published and seeing numbers raising is like:

[mmkkzz]

Here is an idea for a Gladiator 2 fanfiction Lucius Verus/OC. I’m a terrible writer but definitely have some ideas for stories if anyone wants to write this story.

The idea is that the story can be an about girl that is Lucilla’s ward , when her parents died Lucilla took in the girl and raises her from a young age and grew up with Lucius. Lucius being a couple years older than her. Was always a spirited girl that always had a play sword in hand when her and Lucius would pretend to be gladiators like Maximus growing up. From a young age she and Lucius always cared for each deeply. Even though lucilla would ways teach her to be a lady she was always would take any opportunity to learn how to fight. When Lucius is sent away she wanted to go with him but wasn’t able to which both devastated them. As the years went on lucilla remarried to Marcus acacius which became a father figure to her and he thought of the girl as his own and taught her more how to fight and they became close. Taught her everything he knew from hand to hand combat, sword fighting, archery and horse riding. Lucilla taught her everything she knew about being a lady but also learning the art of being a healer as well. But she always missed Lucius as the years go on. As she grew older she became a beauty that didn’t go unnoticed by both the emperors, Marcus has tried to protect her from a marriage with geta. Even though she was at an age that she should have been married by then. Anyways, she would sneak out of the palace a lot to go train with the gladiators that macrinus would purchase. Thats when she reunites with Lucius and it’s like nothing has ever changed even though she can see that he is full of vengeance and grief from what he has been through in his life away in Africa. They start to fall for each other again but it becomes complicated when he finds out that the general he wants revenge on is the father figure of his love. The story will follow the movie. I haven’t seen it yet but idk I think it would be a cool story.

If anyone wants to take on this story be my guest.

[archivequinn]

What's your secret, envoy? emperor geta x fem!reader

Summary: Desperation drives you to the gates of the Roman Empire when your brother is dragged away to fight as a gladiator in their blood-soaked arenas. With nothing left to lose, you strike a perilous bargain with the cunning Emperor Geta—your freedom and future in exchange for your brother’s life. But what begins as a desperate ploy turns into a tangled web of intrigue, betrayal, and forbidden ties. You never imagined that the ruthless emperor would become more than an adversary—and that the most dangerous risk of all would be losing him.

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three (completed) ao3 link

Darkness had fallen, and the flickering light of the torches surrounding the arena cast dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls. The weight of chains stretched from wrist to wrist, from wrist to ankle, echoing with every step you took.

Fatigue and resignation were etched onto Geta’s face, but the last spark in his eyes had not yet dimmed. Looking at him, you felt in your bones that this moment had finally come, that the inevitable was now here, confronting you.

The screams and cheers echoing through the arena were like a death march rising from the heart of Rome. The crowd was filled with the fervor of ruthless savagery; in their hands were roses and mud-mixed stones, hurling at you the paradox of life and death.

On one side, a barbaric crowd hungry for blood; on the other, roses, symbols intertwined with death. The air carried the mingled scents of soil, sweat, and fire, imprinting the moment indelibly into your memory.

As the sky transitioned from a copper-hued sunset to the absolute blackness of night, Macrinus's arrogant gaze gleamed before you. Reclining on his throne with the demeanor of a king assured of his victory, he listened to the frenzied cheers of the crowd.

Beside him sat Caracalla, his face utterly different; tense with rage, you could almost hear the blood coursing through his veins. His hatred for Geta seemed like the hidden playwright of this dark theater.

Geta suddenly stopped. The clinking sound of the chains reverberated on the stone floor. Standing confidently in the center of the arena, he held his head high. “People of Rome!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the stone walls and reaching every corner.

The weight in his voice imbued each word with both fury and hope. “Today, here before you, a conspiracy is being staged. Macrinus is a traitor who has infiltrated the heart of our empire! Can’t you see his treachery?”

For a moment, the crowd fell silent, but it was short-lived. Screams, laughter, and jeers rose again, crashing over you like a wave. Geta’s voice was lost in this sea.

Though he continued speaking, the crowd’s minds were already sealed with a predetermined verdict. They wanted blood. The eyes looking at you sought not justice but mere entertainment.

Geta’s words were like winds wasted in the void. You looked at him, your heart constricting, helplessness clutching at you. Geta’s hands trembled into fists; the chains clattered once more. Among the faces watching, there was no mercy, only cruelty.

At that moment, Macrinus rose from his seat. As his steps echoed in the arena, the crowd began to quiet down. That arrogant, mocking smile never left his face. His hands moved like those of an actor initiating a play, and his voice rang out, cold and cutting.

“People of Rome!” Macrinus declared, his every word dripping like venom.

“Today, you will not only witness the punishment of traitors. No! Today, I present to you a tragedy! You will see how these two traitors pay the price of their betrayal. But the one to execute their punishment will not be an ordinary gladiator…”

The crowd held its breath. Everyone waited to hear what Macrinus would say. His voice lowered, but its impact grew stronger, slithering like a serpent and feeding the crowd’s curiosity.

“Their executioner will be one of this woman’s own blood! Her brother!”

For a moment, everything seemed frozen. Your mind refused to comprehend it. “No…” you murmured, the word breaking like a fractured prayer before leaving your lips.

Your eyes turned to Geta. He was just as shocked as you, but his expression quickly shifted to one of anger.

When one of the slave gates opened, the figure emerging was initially just a vague silhouette in the darkness. The crowd held its breath. As the echoes of footsteps drew closer, your heart began to race. Your eyes recognized the figure. Broad shoulders, a face weary but hardened—it was your brother.

No. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. But there he was. His chained hands were visible beneath the coarse, heavy pieces of gladiator armor. The crowd’s shouts and cheers rose once more. The people were enthralled by this dramatic display.

Geta leaned toward you, his voice firm and sharp. “You must pull yourself together.”

Ignoring the weight of your chains, you surged forward, running toward your brother. But just as you moved, the world froze with the sharp cry of an arrow. The arrow embedded itself in the sands before you, halting your steps.

Geta suddenly appeared beside you, pulling you back. He extended his arms protectively in front of you like a shield. “Stay calm,” he said in a low voice, though a storm raged within him. “They’re luring us into a trap.”

Macrinus’s voice filled the arena with mocking resonance. “Ah, how touching! But there is no mercy in this arena! Without blood, there is no victory! The people of Rome want victory, they want tragedy, they want blood! But only one will leave this arena alive!”

A brief silence fell before he widened his smile and added, “And the decision of who that will be… is in your hands.”

As the crowd erupted in wild cheers over this merciless proposition, tears streamed down your cheeks, and you saw the same anguish in your brother’s eyes.

Geta turned to Caracalla, his voice now an unstoppable eruption of fury. “Are you really watching this, brother?” he shouted, his voice reverberating against the stone walls of the arena. “Can’t you see how Macrinus has deceived you? This game, this plan, all of it is his doing! He lied to make you kill us! He lied to turn you against me!”

Caracalla sat on the throne on the other side of the arena. His face seemed expressionless, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Yet what was it? Doubt? Or anger? You knew you wouldn’t get an answer in that moment, but you heard Geta’s voice rise even further in one last desperate effort.

“Are you so blind that you can’t see Macrinus’s true face?” he cried, his voice sharp like a cutting wind. “He’s the traitor! Not us! He’s the one poisoning Rome! He’s the one who turned you against me!”

At that very moment, one of the large gates in the corner of the arena slowly began to open. The crowd momentarily ceased their cheers, turning their attention to the gate. Beyond it, General Acacius and his elite soldiers emerged. Acacius stepped forward with a composed demeanor, his face bearing an expression as unyielding as stone. The silence of the crowd turned into a murmur; some greeted Acacius with surprise, while others speculated on his intentions.

Seeing Acacius enter the arena, a glimmer of hope appeared in Geta’s eyes. “Finally…” he murmured.

Acacius approached the center of the arena and bowed toward Caracalla. However, this did not please Macrinus. “General, what are you doing here? The game has started, and it is not your place to entertain the crowd!” he snapped, his voice tinged with irritation.

Acacius spoke with cold certainty in his tone, “Your Majesty, I am responsible for the security of Rome. However, I sense that there is a darker plan unfolding behind these public games.”

Macrinus, his anger plain on his face, demanded, “What are you implying, General?”

Acacius took another step forward, standing directly in front of Macrinus. “Betrayal and manipulation. And the one responsible for it is you, Macrinus.”

Turning to Caracalla, Acacius spoke in a measured tone, “Your Majesty, I have evidence to prove Macrinus’s treacherous schemes.”

Caracalla hesitated for a moment. His gaze shifted from Macrinus to Geta and finally to Acacius. The crowd held their breath, waiting in tense silence.

Caracalla’s face was like a stone mask. His silence made every breath in the arena feel heavy. At last, he turned to Macrinus and spoke with a mocking smile, “How curious, Macrinus. It seems everyone has a story to tell today.”

Macrinus let out a confident laugh, attempting to mask the tension in the air. “Your Majesty, this general’s loyalty has long been questionable. Don’t let him waste your time with supposed evidence. Justice must be served to Geta and these traitors!”

But Caracalla ignored Macrinus’s words and focused his gaze on Acacius. “Do you have evidence, General? And if so, why have you waited until now?”

Acacius, feeling the weight of the question, replied in a calm voice, “Because traitors work in the shadows, Your Majesty. I waited for the right moment.”

Despite the cheers of the crowd, Caracalla seemed lost in thought. Finally, he raised his hand, silencing the arena. A wave of quiet spread, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the crackle of the torches.

At that moment, Macrinus lost his feigned smile and raised his voice. “Your Majesty, this is a trap! Acacius and Geta’s collaboration is nothing less than treason against Rome!”

Acacius turned to Macrinus, his voice as firm as steel. “Watch your words, Macrinus. No one understands treachery better than you.”

At that instant, Acacius reached into an inner pocket of his armor and produced a carefully folded parchment. His expression remained stoic, but his eyes shone with the determination that matched the gravity of his words. “Your Majesty, this parchment contains the proof of Macrinus’s treacherous plans—details of conspiracies that threaten Rome’s security…” As he spoke, a murmur rose among the crowd.

The whispers spread like sparks under the flickering light of the torches.

Macrinus, struggling to maintain his mocking facade, said, “Who can guarantee the reliability of this so-called evidence?” But the panic in his voice was impossible to hide.

At that moment, the leader of the archers stationed at the edge of the arena was staring at Macrinus, waiting for his orders. Macrinus scanned the crowd quickly, then furrowed his brow and gave a low command: “Prepare.”

The archers drew their bows, aiming at the four figures in the arena. The tension was so thick it felt difficult to breathe. The murmurs of the crowd foretold an impending storm.

As you tried to understand how everything had reached this point, your eyes drifted to Geta. There was a strength in his stance, one that seemed to defy all the chaos in the world. When your eyes met, a spark of both fear and something else lit up within you. His gaze seemed to say, “You wil be okay.”

Geta stepped forward and suddenly pulled you into his arms. The warmth of his chest was stronger than the cold steel of his chains. It was as if you weren’t standing in the middle of an arena, as if you weren’t in the shadow of death. He whispered, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “If this is our end, I’ll die protecting you.”

In that moment, everything froze. The flames of the torches danced in your eyes as you felt Geta’s hands on your shoulders. His embrace wasn’t just protective—it was a reflection of all the emotions he had suppressed. A warmth spread through you, momentarily erasing all fear.

Macrinus’s voice cut through the moment. “Archers!” he shouted, his anger echoing through the crowd. But just then, chaos erupted among the spectators. Those who believed in Macrinus’s schemes clashed with those opposing him. Torches toppled over, and the crowd at the edge of the arena began scuffling with the guards.

Amid the chaos, someone accidentally bumped into an archer. Losing his balance, the archer released his bow, and the arrow shot through the air, piercing the silence of the arena as it landed on the ground. The tension peaked. A scream rose from the crowd, and people began to scatter in panic.

In that instant, Geta reflexively pulled you to the ground, wrapping his arms around you. The arrow had struck just a few steps away. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his breath warm against your neck. The tears streaming from your eyes were the expression of a feeling that was neither pure fear nor pure happiness. When you looked at Geta’s face, you saw that his eyes, too, were brimming with tears.

Acacius’s gaze was locked on Macrinus, who was attempting to retreat.

Meanwhile, the guards in the arena quickly moved to secure Caracalla’s safety. Soldiers rushed toward the emperor’s throne, escorting him to the palace gates to protect him from the chaos among the crowd.

Only four people remained in the center of the arena: You, Geta, Acacius, and your brother. The sands glowed with sparks from the fallen torches. Your heart knew that everything would unravel in this fleeting chaos. Geta’s hands were still on you, and when you turned to him, words caught in your throat. He simply whispered to you, “Never forget me.”

As the chaos grew, Macrinus retreated to a corner of the arena. But Acacius, sword drawn, began to pursue him.

The turmoil within the arena escalated. Shouts echoed among the crowd, and a full-blown rebellion erupted. For a brief moment, Geta turned to you, his face holding something you had never seen before—a mixture of love and sorrow.

“You must stay here,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I can’t protect you if you put yourself in danger.”

“No, Geta! You can’t go!” you cried, tears burning down your cheeks. But Geta had already made his decision. He gave you one last look—a gaze that wasn’t just a farewell but the passing of an eternal memory to you. “Forgive me,” he said. Then he surged forward, following Acacius.

You tried to run after him, but a strong hand on your shoulder stopped you. When you turned, you saw the determined look on your brother’s face. “Don’t leave him! Please!” you shouted, but your brother held you firmly.

“No,” he said, his voice hard and resolute. “Listen to me. I can’t leave you here. We have to get out of here. Now!”

He wrapped his arms around you, almost carrying you away from the chaos of the arena. But your mind and heart remained with Geta. With each step, you felt further away from him, and each breath became an unbearable torment.

Your brother quickly led you out of the arena to a waiting horse. “No! Let me go!” you shouted, but he didn’t listen. He placed you on the horse, your hands trembling, your eyes still locked on the fading sight of the arena. “Something will happen to Geta! I can’t leave him alone!”

Gripping the reins tightly, your brother said, “He risked everything to save us. We must honor his sacrifice!” He spurred the horse forward. Behind you, Geta’s face remained frozen in your mind as the last image you saw of him. Your eyes were still filled with tears, and everything felt like a dream—or rather, a nightmare. But one thing was certain: Geta’s choice had changed your life forever.

You found yourself inside an old stone-walled warehouse where your brother had dragged you. The interior was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight streaming through a narrow window in the wall, casting soft shadows. The distant screams and the sharp clash of metal against metal outside planted deep roots of fear in your heart. From afar, the silhouette of Rome was visible; massive fires painted the sky orange, and smoke rose like a heavy shroud. The city was burning. Rome was burning.

Your brother stood with one hand on your shoulder, the other gripping the hilt of his sword, on high alert. "You’re safe here," he said, though his voice didn’t sound particularly confident. His words didn’t comfort you.

Your eyes remained locked on the distant flames. Trembling with a storm of emotions swirling inside you, you muttered, "Geta... He’s dead. He... He tried to save us but failed. I... I couldn’t protect him..." Your voice was hoarse and filled with sorrow.

Your brother spoke without looking at you. "We had to survive. Geta knew that. That’s why he risked everything." But those words didn’t console you; instead, they brought another wave of guilt and grief. You collapsed to your knees, your throat tight with emotion. Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of your grief crushed you to the ground. Watching Rome burn, you remembered Geta’s face. The determination, courage, and... farewell in his eyes. You felt as though something inside you had shattered.

Crying was like trying to purge all the heaviness inside you, but it also left you feeling more drained. Your eyes burned, your shoulders shook. Finally, when your tears dried and your breathing grew uneven, exhaustion settled over you like a heavy blanket. Your eyelids succumbed to their own weight, and you slipped into a dark unconsciousness.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. It was as if your grief had disconnected you from time. But after a while, a sharp "clattering" sound pulled you back to reality. The echo of horse hooves reached your ears. Your heart began to race; the silence of the warehouse was torn apart by the resounding sound. A whistling noise came from above the rafters, like a cold wind slipping inside. You heard the creak of the door as it opened.

Your brother instantly rose to his feet on high alert. One hand went to the hilt of his sword, while the other protectively pushed you behind him. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice now tired but just as protective. Your heart pounded as you tried to guess who they were. But then, everything went still.

Then, the moonlight illuminated the faces of those who had entered. You suddenly recognized the two riders before you: Geta and Acacius.

At that moment, your world froze. You stared in disbelief. Standing before you was Geta, alive and breathing. His face bore a few scars, and he looked exhausted but strong. And then, your body moved as if it had a will of its own. "Geta!" you cried, your voice trembling, but this time not with sorrow— with joy.

You ran towards him. Your brother tried to say something, but you didn’t hear him. In that moment, all you cared about was reaching Geta. Tears streamed from your eyes, but they carried an entirely different meaning now. Geta bent slightly toward you, and when you threw your arms around his neck, it felt as if time itself had stopped. You held him tightly, as if letting go would make everything vanish again.

"You... You’re alive! I thought I lost you! I was so scared!" you said, words tumbling out of your mouth as your mind struggled to process everything. When Geta’s strong arms wrapped around you, a deep sense of comfort washed over you.

Behind you, Acacius exchanged a brief look with your brother, his face tired yet determined as he gave a small nod. In the darkness of the night, the only thing holding you all together was love and the instinct to survive.

Clinging to Geta, you felt waves of happiness and relief wash over you. The weight in your heart seemed to lift entirely. His warm voice broke the silence: "Don’t worry anymore. Everything is under control." His words rang with the solidity of a promise, though your mind was still struggling to grasp what had happened.

You pulled back slightly from his embrace to look into his eyes. "What happened? What did you go through?" you asked, your words shaky but filled with hope.

A faint smile appeared on Geta’s lips. "Macrinus has been captured. He’s been thrown into the dungeon and won’t pose a threat again. We also quelled the rebellion among the people. The city will be rebuilt now. There’s a light of hope for everyone," he said. His voice was weary but carried the relief of a hard-fought victory. As you watched his expression, you found yourself admiring his courage and leadership once more.

Acacius stepped forward, as stoic as ever, though a flicker of pride and satisfaction shone in his eyes. "Emperor," he said formally to Geta, "Tonight, Rome saw not an emperor but a hero of the people. Your loyalty and bravery will become a legend."

Geta turned to him, nodding. "This victory isn’t mine alone. It belongs to everyone here. And to you, Acacius. Rome could never have had a better general, and never will."

Acacius’s lips twitched slightly in what might have been a faint smile—a quiet expression of gratitude. But when Geta turned back to you, his face was entirely different. His eyes softened, as though he’d found his one source of peace amidst all the chaos. "But above all, seeing you here... That is my greatest victory."

Those words filled your heart with warmth. "I thought I’d lost you," you said, tears accompanying your words. "It felt like the whole world had stopped, Geta. Without you... I would be nothing."

Geta took one of your hands in his. The warmth of his palm melted away all your fears. "And I would never leave you," he said, his voice low but resolute. "No force, no rebellion, no war could ever separate me from you."

His words brought a faint smile to your lips. In that moment, the entire world seemed to quiet down. While Rome’s smoke rose in the distance, you felt safe at Geta’s side. His eyes held a promise—a future of countless days together filled with hope.

The following days were spent rebuilding Rome. The people looked upon both Geta and Acacius with deep respect. Acacius received an honorary medal from the Senate and was declared the commander-in-chief of the army. Your brother was hailed as a hero who restored his family’s honor. But your world was defined by being at Geta’s side.

One day, as you walked through Rome’s quiet gardens, Geta was beside you, his usual calm yet profound expression on his face. Amidst the birdsong, you noticed him suddenly stop. "I need to say something," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

Your heart skipped a beat. "What is it?" you asked, smiling slightly.

Geta took your hands in his. His eyes locked onto yours as if he understood the entire world within them. "I’ve seen many things in my life—power, war, betrayal. But after meeting you, I realized that the most important thing isn’t loyalty; it’s love. Before you, I wasn’t living, only existing. And now... I know what it means to truly live."

His words deeply moved you. Your eyes welled up, but with happiness this time. Being with him made all the chaos of the world feel meaningful.

In that moment, Geta leaned down, and his lips softly met yours. It was a moment beyond everything—a moment transcending all the complexities of life. Rome might have burned, and the world might have been changing. But your world was complete in Geta’s arms.

And in that moment, after all the struggles, losses, and fears, you were truly happy. It was a happiness that would last forever.

taglist: @hesvoid3434 @drowning-in-cosmic-hopes @quuinyoung @cokepowder55 @justnobodynothingmore @arluna @multyfangirl @sarahskywalker-amidala @spiderxparker @your-nightmaredoll @avenjames-anderson @fruitylikeabagofskittles @urlivingdeadgirl @flawssy-227 @t-folklore13 @carlaaa76-blog7 @nicholaschavezslut69 @zalera8310

[ekkkkey]

My commission by ECLER

Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla х OC 😇🫶🏻

[eclipseiz]

The Gladiator 18+

pairing- hanno/lucius x fem! oc 1310 words

(♡ synopsis)- general acacius's daughter became intrigued by the violent gladiator she saw perform in the games and just had to meet him. (lucilla is not her mother)

warnings- p in v, dirty talk, fingering

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sabina Acacius was a strong willed woman that always made sure to get what she wanted. When she saw ‘Hanno’, as they called him in the colosseum she immediately knew she would seek him out when the time was up in the emperor's section.

After the gladiator had beheaded the contestant Geta and Caracalla had chosen she got up from her seat, “Emperors, An entertaining game as usual. I bid you a good night. I must retire to my room for some needed rest.”

Geta only waved the girl off, more focused on relishing in the applause from the people of Rome, making the girl roll her eyes before catching the General's glare in warning, “Father. Lucilla” she nodded, “I will see you back at home."

Sabina didn't waste a moment to rush out of the colosseum and down the busy streets of Rome towards the Gladiators holding cells. When she arrived at the entrance she pulled her hood up and maneuvered around the training fighters to the back corner where Ravi had Hanno sitting to be stitched.

“Quite a deep cut.” she commented, giving Ravi a kind smile.

“M’lady it's been too long.” he smiled back before focusing back on the task at hand. Hanno watched their interaction in silence observing the girl he saw in the emperor's box, sitting next to the man he vowed to kill and his mother.

Sabina pulled her hood down and sat on the bench in front of the men, “You put up a great fight Gladiator. I wanted to come down and greet you personally. You impressed the Emperors.”

“That carries no importance to me.” Hanno grunted out moving his eyes to the wound Ravi prodded with. “Now what's the real reason you're down here. Certainly not to talk of my achievement.”

Sabina smirked at his sass and crossed her legs, “Perhaps it is, you've intrigued me.” 

Hanno furrowed his brow, “This isn't a safe place for a lady of your status.” he said plainly, taking a drag of the mixture Ravi gave to him.

Ravi pointed at a rag that sat next to Sabina to which she handed it to him, leaning in more towards Hanno. “I saw the sour looks you threw towards my father. What's the reason for such emotions?” she asked curiously.

A dark look passed over the gladiator's face, “That would be business between the General and I.”

Sabina hummed while Ravi backed up, “You're stitched up Hanno. I suggest you take a bath, you stink of filth.” he chuckled and patted him on the back. “Nice to see you Sabina.” he bid them a goodbye.

Hanno stood as did Sabina, “I'll escort you to the tub.” she smiled at the aggravated look that washed over him. The pair walked side by side in silence before stepping into the large room with the large tub of hot water in the middle. “Well I shall leave you to rid yourself of the remnants from tonight's game.”

“Wont stay to question me anymore?” he raised an eyebrow while unclipping his armor.

Sabina watched as he undressed cheeks heating up, “Not while you are without clothes, no.” she said perplexed and turned her back, “ You'd like to answer my curiosity?” Once she heard the water splashing she turned back to see Hanno sat in the steaming water, head leaned neck with his eyes shut.

“Nothing with the General.” he said before opening his eyes and moving his gaze to hers.

Sabina moved in closer, slipping her sandals off and hiking her dress up. She sat down next to him and dipped her legs into the water. “What were you before all of this?” she watched the bruised man let a sigh out.

“A farmer.” he answered plainly. 

She hummed, “Does any family wait for you?”.

Hanno tensed, “My wife was my family. She was killed when your people invaded.”

The girl nodded, “Rome is in a dark time, not even the citizens feel safe.”

“And do you?” he questioned looking at her.

Sabina pondered, “I worry for the innocent Romans who will be caught in the crossfire when the twins' leadership fails.” Hanno chose not to answer and began to wash his arms, careful of the wounds his body had received before standing.

Sabina looked away at the man's naked form, “You can look. You say I intrigued you and it cannot be my soul in which that did.” he looked down at her.

She cautiously turned back and looked at his face before her eyes moved down to his muscular chest littered with scars, cuts, and bruises. She stood and moved in front of him reaching out and traced a jagged white line that sat on his right pec. Hanno said nothing and instead looked at her features and the way her eyebrows furrowed with every wound she felt.

Sabina’s eyes lingered on his abs before moving down to his half hard cock between them. She had been with one man before and he had been nowhere close to the size Hanno was, “I should return to my chambers.” yet she made no move to leave.

“Perhaps.” he whispered moving his hands to her waist

Sabina didn't waste a moment before crashing her lips into his chapped ones, hands moving to his shoulders and around his neck. His hands gripped her harder, lifting her up with ease and setting her up onto the counter behind her. Hanno stood between her open legs exploring her mouth with his tongue, driven with frustration and desperation.

He gripped the bottom of her dress and tapped her hips in order for her to lift them so he could punch her dress to her waist. “Are you sure you want this Sabina?” he asked breathlessly. Although he hated the girls father he had to admit something about the girl made him addicted

“I've wanted this since I saw you in the games, please Hanno.” and with that he returned to her lips and brushed his fingers agaisnt her soaking pussy. She moaned into his mouth and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck.

Pushing one finger into her he circled her clit with his thumb. Relishing in the way she tightened her walls. “Feel how wet I make your cunt?” He whispered between her swollen lips.

Sabina whimpered, “Please-more Hanno, please give me more.” she moaned out

He pushed another finger in and curled them up in her g-spot and sped his pace on her clit bringing her to the cusp of an orgasm before pulling away leaving the girl a gasping mess, “No-why?” said asked

Hanno gripped the base of his cock and lined it up to her entrance before leaning down to her forehead, “When I get you to cum I want it to be around my cock.” he said before pushing up into her all the way to the hilt. Sabina moaned, gripping his back, adding more cuts with her nails, “You're taking me so well my beautiful girl.” he gritted out while thrusting into her at a fast pace.

“Cum with me, my gladiator.” Sabina gasped out.

Hanno worked his hips into her, tip hitting her cervix, “Let go.” he commanded and that all she needed to hear before an orgasm washed over her, Hanno followed burying his hips deep into hers.

The pair caught their breath before separating, Sabina pulling her dress down and feeling a mixture of their cum leaking out of her while Hanno pulled a uniform over his head. 

“I shall see you at the colosseum in coming days.” She combed her hair out and moved towards the exit but he caught her wrist and pulled her back to him.

“I ask of you to pay me a visit after the game, that is if I survive.” he smirked

Sabina smiled and nodded, “If that is what you want my gladiator.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Part Two

like and reblog ♡

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act VI : Name Day

Coming to Ao3 Friday, December 6th (or sooner because your girl is cooking)

Summary: To honor emperor Geta’s 26th name day, gladiatorial games are hosted in his honor. Caracalla feels that the choices that his brother has made for the games were done modestly, but Geta assures his kin that there will be a surprise twist. Later in the evening, Aurelia makes her first acquaintance with the emperor’s and Marcus is left fearing for her safety.

“No, brother. Perhaps it is time for me to find a more willing whore,” Caracalla clipped back, his eyes burning into his brothers over the rim of his chalice.

Laveda froze in Geta’s lap, observing his profile with a worrisome look. She had known him for years. First serving as one of his mothers handmaidens until her untimely death, and catching the eldest emperor’s eye in passing. He was a teenager then, as was she. It was no secret that they lost their virginities to one another, thus creating what she believed to be a soul bond. She learned very early on that he had many desires that were often insatiable with just her alone, but it was he who had made the final push to send her out from within the palace walls where she found herself paying her dues at a brothel.

“No,” his commanding voice rang loudly in her ears. “I am not agreeable in sharing what is mine.”

Caracalla looked up at him, his eyes narrowed into slits, but his figurative tail was very much tucked and trembling between his legs. He often wondered how his life would be had the tables been turned and he were the eldest, and Geta was the one groveling at his feet. He took another indulgent sip of his wine, rolling the sweet liquor across his teeth. “Apologies, brother.” If he were a wolf, he would be cowering and clacking his teeth in submission.

(In some cultures, hyenas represented greed & gluttony 😙)

[snazzynacho]

— Emperor of Time

Chapter 1/?: Vivamus, Moriendum Est / Let Us Live, For We Must Die

Emperor Geta x female oc

Read on ao3. Masterlist. Words: 1.7k. Part 2

Summary: Emperor Publius Septimius Geta somehow time travels to the future. With no way home and no idea how he ended up in a random woman’s living room in—he later works out to be—modern-day Britannia, he is forced to adjust as well as he can. And, maybe the woman talking a funny-sounding-gibberish-language to him, might not be all that bad…The gods have plucked him from his wealthy imperial-born path and plunged him deep into the unknown—a time of the modern world. Will he accept this fate or brutally shove it back into their mocking faces?

Tags/warnings: Gladiator 2 spoilers. She/her pronouns used, time travel, red string of fate, fluff, angst, humour, eventual romance, possible smut, female reader, atheist reader, mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced past child abuse/abusive father, Christianity/Catholicism hate, British English lessons, Latin lessons, references to ancient Roman religion, mythology and lore. (I am no expert so sorry for Latin language/historical inaccuracies.) No beta we die like Geta.

Geta has always wondered what the gods have planned for him.

Of course, he knows his birth rite is being emperor, albeit grudgingly a Co-emperor, with his mad brother. Yet, he still enjoys the power and wealth that comes with being emperor.

Still, his mind also wonders to the inevitable…his death. How have the gods panned out his life? When will he die? Much to his ego, he always assumed it would be when he is old and has lived a full life as a rich emperor, with a grandiose funeral and many people mourning—the entirety of Rome, he hopes.

But, he never foresees this…

One moment Geta is in the palace and the next he is…nowhere?

His vision goes black. It feels like he’s floating in an endless abyss. It reminds him of when he and his brother Caracalla would go swimming as children. He always loved how freeing it felt to lie flat on his back, letting the ocean guide him away from any troubles that were tormenting him.

But in this case, in this pitch black atmosphere, he feels slightly uneasy. He cannot see a thing. He only senses his heart thumping in his chest and hears his breathing rapidly increase by the second.

His mind takes a moment to comprehend what is happening and soon is full with endless questions.

What is this place?

This is no—dare he says it—Elysium.

Unless, there is no such thing as—

He stops himself. He is in no mood to denounce his religion now.

Geta inhales a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He tries to take a step forward, but he finds his leg is stiff. He slowly realises his limbs feel as though they weigh a ton.

He attempts to move again. He uses all his strength, groaning at the strain on his body to move. Slowly, he starts to move, gliding through the unknown.

A flicker of light emits in the distance. An exit perhaps? His legs pick up speed, running to, what he hopes to be, safety. As Geta reaches closer to the light, he makes out a field of wheat under a blanket of blue sky—the Elysian fields.

He cannot help but grin. A feeling of warmth and protection grows in his body at the familiarity of it. He will be safe there, even if it means he has died.

His outstretched hand reaches the doorway to Elysium, but just as his finger grazes it, it vanishes before his eyes, plunging him into darkness again. He gasps. Dread fills his body.

No, no, no, no.

Is this all a trick?

Geta grows cold again. His head lowers in shame and he feels tears prick his eyes.

Before he can let them fall, he sees two glowing hands reach out and hold his. He looks up, blinking away the tears so he can clear his blurry vision. Is he seeing what he thinks he is seeing?

The glowing hands belong to a woman, her hair flows all around her as if she is standing in a gentle summer breeze. He cannot make out what colour her hair or robe is, or what shade her skin is.

She glows a white almost blinding light, with a thin orange fire outlining her figure—similar to a flickering candlelight.

Her face is still blurry, with no features to be seen. He blinks again, thinking it is a few tears being stubborn. But he still cannot make out her face.

He does not feel scared though. This great presence is all too calming. He wants to speak, to ask who she is, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He does not know what to say exactly.

“You are not ready yet, my child,” her soothing voice lands in his mind.

His mouth is dry. He goes to speak again, but the same problem arises. She lets go of his hands, cradling his cheeks. Her hands are warm and comforting. He closes his eyes, unable to resist leaning into her touch further. Finally, she places a kiss on his forehead.

Abruptly, she pushes him away gently.

Geta’s body glides backwards fast. Her shining figure becomes smaller and smaller, shrinking in the distance. With his limited information about what is happening, he can only assume this means he's going back home, to the palace in Rome. How will he explain this to anyone?

Suddenly, the atmosphere around him rips. It tears like a piece of paper, revealing a blinding white vision, his eyes burning. His arms wrap around his head, covering his eyes. His eardrums pound as the environment shakes as though he is in the middle of an earthquake and rumbles with incredible volume.

He cowers and moves his arms, trying to also cover his ears from the noise, but it's no use. The deafening sound, unsteady oscillation, rumbling, and, blinding light—it's excruciating.

Geta screams in pain and fear, praying that it ends. The blinding white grows and grows until it swallows him up.

And then, it all goes still…silent.

He opens his eyes, blinking. His ears ring loudly, almost as deafening as the rumbling. He's lying flat on the ground, but not outside. He's inside. But it does not look like a building he recognises.

He rises and is immediately hit with a pounding in his head. His legs wobble but he ably regains stability. He looks around the room. The interior design, from the furniture down to the walls and layout, is completely alien to him.

By the gods, where is he?

He stands there for gods knows how long, contemplating his life and purpose when a presence enters the room, rubbing his temple with a trembling hand.

He turns, meeting his gaze with a young woman. However, she is dressed in the most bizarre clothing—thick blue fabric wrapped tightly around her legs and held together around her waist with a shiny metallic object which looks a bit like a silver coin to him. On her top half, she wears a cloth, loose and light pink with short sleeves, and stitching around the hem. And the most bizarre of all, a contraption that looks like two big round pieces of glass in front of her eyes, that rests on her nose and has two arms reaching behind her ears. It looks like a second pair of eyes, like bug eyes.

They stare at each other in shock for a few long seconds until the woman lets out an ear-piercingly loud scream.

Geta covers his ears quickly, clutching the sides of his head. He glowers from the ringing in his ears and the pounding head he already feels added onto this newfound pain from her screaming.

The scream finally stops but she still looks petrified, as does Geta, probably. He watches her eyes dart frantically around the room, landing on the broom resting against the wall. Her hands reach for it, dropping a small rectangular device from her hand in the action. Geta wants to inspect whatever contraption it is—if he were in a different circumstance, that is. Right now, he believes the best thing to do is to stand completely and utterly still, like a statue. He's afraid of this new environment.

Why have I been sent here?

She jabs the broom close to his torso, like she is wielding a spear. He notes that she is clearly not a gladiatrix, since her angle is off. And her feeble arms are too weak for her to even be considered one. He concludes that she is a very poor fighter.

Still, he looks utterly shocked at her blasphemy. Does she know he is an emperor? Purposefully trying to inflict harm or kill a god-emperor calls for the punishment of death!

She shoos him, continuing to jab the broom in his general direction, but never actually hitting him.

Geta’s eyes snap down at the broom which, from her jabbing motion, has blown dust into his face and, most importantly, his luxurious robes. He coughs, flapping his hands to rid the dust cloud from his face. Once cleared, he tries to brush the dust particles from his robes. A scowl forms on his face. He shouts at her in Latin, his language, but she has no idea what he is saying.

She then yells at him in her language, her frustration evidently reaching the surface. To which he grimaces at her foreign words. A foreigner committing sacrilege against her emperor? How unsurprising, he thinks to himself.

She seems to growl out of exasperation, letting go of the broom. The wooden handle clackers against the hardwood floor.

Suddenly, a loud unrecognisable noise from outside resounds around the room, having flown in through the open window.

His head snaps to the direction of the noise, alert.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her outstretched arm, seemingly trying to stop him, but he's already running to the window. He leans over, holding onto the window sill for leverage, gazing out into the surrounding view—detailing roads, buildings, and other establishments. It is nothing like he has ever seen before.

The noise sounds like it should belong to some sort of animal or beast, but he sees nothing of the sort—only big chariots, all of different colours, which emit smoke and have four black wheels in each corner, driving on the road.

Throughout his life in Rome as Emperor, he held the privilege of being endowed with hundreds of gifts from all over and had been granted the opportunity to travel all around the world, to places where they had occupied new territories—and not once has he ever seen buildings or technology like this. It is mind-boggling.

Where is this place?

Behind him, she grabs her device from the floor where she dropped it. He feels her footsteps thud on the floor, stopping beside him. She stares at him, desperately wanting to know what is going on inside of his head, as does he.

It all becomes too much for Geta. He slowly steps back away from the window, yet his eyes forbid him to look away from the unfamiliar sight outside. His breath quickens as his boundless thoughts race through his dizzying head. He feels as though he is on a different planet, if that is possible. Maybe he can find a soothsayer to help him…anyone…anything.

His head feels weightless, the blood rushing far too rapidly. His stomach churns. His legs grow weak, his body is suddenly too heavy to uphold. His hearing starts to go, unhearing the noise of the funny chariots. His vision goes speckled, black spots appearing, before they swallow him whole. He does not remember falling backwards.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: ummm hey yes I am publishing another Gladiator 2 fanfic when I haven't even finished the first one (yet) <3 It’s because I am way too impatient and need to share this with you all NOW. I hope you liked it! Comments are always lovely to read and reblogs are appreciated! :)

Tag list for this fanfic: (comment if you want to be added)

[d0rianw1lde]

I see you! Caracalla, Caracalla, Caracalla! <

Finished commission! Makeup and no makeup version of @londonfog-chan ‘s OC and Emperor Caracalla!

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

V. The Council

Hi, guys I did some research on Rome, and they don't use the word princess. instead, they use rarely: filia regis so I mentioned in the story. But I will use the princess word to make it easier. I will make Geta softer than he looks in the trailers, but not much obviously. In history Caracalla kills Geta so I am writing my fic according to real history places, and tradition, events. if you have any advice let me know, thank you for all your support, so enjoy the episode...

Si scio quid sit amor, propter te est.

If I know what love is, it is because of you. H.B.

Road…

The streets of Rome were fairly tranquil at night, in comparison to the bustling activity that characterizes the city during the day. It was particularly the case with the roads leading out of the city and into more remote areas. The general's villa was situated on one of these remote roads, and it was a somewhat lengthy journey to reach the city on foot. It might have been a good idea to use a horse or cart to traverse this road. But you were determined to continue on your journey, despite the discomfort you felt. You voiced your concerns to yourself and even considered turning back. You would have been pleased to rest in Marcus' bed, next to his warm body, his strong arms.  Yet, you were worried that you might regret not going ahead with your plan if you didn't do it. Even though you had these concerns, you decided to keep walking. As you got closer to the entrance to the big city, you suddenly noticed what sounded to be footsteps behind you.

You were reluctant to turn your head to see what was happening because a shiver ran through your whole body. It was as if the darkness of the night, which had been your friend a moment ago, had now become your enemy. Sounds, shadows and endless dirt roads were now his companions. When you started running, your legs were not as strong as you had hoped, and you experienced more discomfort than you had anticipated. Nevertheless, you ran with all your strength to reach the stone roads.

Subsequently, upon noticing your breathing becoming more rapid, you decided to take a moment to catch your breath. You were somewhat surprised but grateful when you realised that you were no longer being followed. Upon reaching the stone streets, you were somewhat reassured, but on the other hand, you felt a pang of sadness because you were further away from Marcus. The morning was fast approaching, with dawn on the horizon. From your observation point at the foot of the Venus statue in one corner of the street, you were clinging to the marble at the very end of the column and looking at the city panorama ahead, attempting to calculate the direction of Palatine Hill. The Colosseum is in a great spot, right in the center and visible from all sides. It's a bit of a landmark. So, it made sense to adjust the route to go forward and to the right. You still had a way to go, so you kept walking. You never expected it to be so difficult.

It's particularly when you're passing through these streets, places you've passed before, that your memories start to haunt you. It's as if these streets, which you used to pass by horse and cart, have now turned against you, becoming your enemy's friend. After a few quiet, dark streets, you stopped to rest under the triumphal arch. As you drove under the arch, you noticed something you hadn't seen before and were surprised.

The colossal statue of a former emperor that you had seen it before, but you hadn't had a chance to look at the inscription.

‘Imperator Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus’

Your knees gave way, and you found yourself unable to stand. The stone pavements felt cold against your skin, but you remained still. As you gazed at the statue of your father, you found yourself thinking that perhaps things might have turned out differently if he had been there with you. You had never had the opportunity to witness first-hand what kind of an emperor he was, but from what you had heard, he had been quite successful. You spoke to him, your gaze fixed on his stone eyes, and wished he had heard you: “Father, my lord, I have made my decision. I have been thinking since I learnt about the letter. I came here even though you warned me, even though I knew it would be hard. My heart hurts, father, but I am not afraid. I met love, and I am not going to lose it. I love him so much. I know you hear me, and I know you understand. I am not angry with you. In fact, I am grateful. I met my brothers. You were right about Caracalla. Provide guidance on Geta. I saved him, Father, and I'm ready to face whatever comes next. I know you're with the Gods now, so I'm asking you to help me. I'll do whatever it takes for Rome. Open my eyes and ears, give me strength.”

You wiped away your tears and remained in a seated position for a period of time. However, when the cold became unbearable, you began to shiver. Before standing, you heard the distant cry of a horse, followed by the sound of hooves striking the ground. You wrapped your cloak around yourself tightly, burying your hair and face within it. The sound of hooves echoing in the silence of the night only served to heighten your nervousness.

As the horse drew nearer, you became aware of a slight tremor in the ground beneath your feet, caused by the horse's hooves striking it. You turned your head and observed a man who clothed in a dark cloak.

'My lady,' he greeted you.

When you looked at him, you felt a little surprised and perhaps a little uneasy, and said nothing. He opened his cloak and jumped down from his horse and approached you, still holding on to his horse's harness. The horse snorted noisily and you involuntarily took a few steps back.

"It is imperative that you come with me, as the situation is too perilous for you to remain here at this hour.”

"Who are you that I should agree to accompany you? Was it you who followed me previously?”

He bowed his head and replied, "Yes, my lady. I am a slave of Master Macrinus and I must take you to him."

You narrowed your eyes. ”What if I decline your offer?”

The man laughed, 'He thought you would say that. He said if she doesn't want to come, bring her by force, before she does something to hurt herself. Don’t let her to do, so.’

It was your time to laugh, 'How thoughtful of him. Tell him I appreciate the advice, but I have somewhere else to be right now.’

As soon as you turned around, you heard him coming towards you.

“My lady, I have to do as I'm told,” he said, coming up quickly behind you and grabbing your wrist. You tried to pull back with all your strength, but he was too strong. When he got close, you had a chance to get a good look at him. He had a very muscular and large body, which reminded you of warriors fighting in the Colosseum.

“Let go of my arm!” you cried.

But he had no intention of letting go, his strong hand locked around your wrist as if you were chained.

As he drew you closer to his horse, you heard another horse neighed from down the street, followed by a voice you recognised from before. It was a voice you would not forget, even if you were dead, a voice you felt your ears were made to hear.

The general spurred his black horse into a halt in front of you two. The horse reared under him and uttered a cry. He leapt down from the horse with one swift movement, his face as angry as ever, his eyes fixed on the other man. The general seized the man's hand that was gripping your wrist, pulled it and pushed with such force that the man staggered backwards. But he seemed to be angry too, and quickly regained his composure.

“How dare you lay a hand on her? State yourself, who are you?”

The General moved in front of you, taking charge and protecting you. You were relieved to see him. From behind, he appears to be dressed only in his tunic and cloak. It seems he may have left in a hurry, perhaps he was so worried, you wondered if he had opened the letter yet or not.

"General Acacius, Master Macrinus has given me a mission. I will complete it.”

"Macrinus? I just remember where I saw you before. Tell him I am Marcus Acacius, and I will prevent you from completing your mission.”

The man frowned and tensed as one hand went to the sheath of the sword at his waist. He was not afraid of the General at all.

"Marcus," you gently grasped his cloak and gave it a slight tug. He did not turn to you, still glaring at the man.

"Macrinus would like to take me to the council meeting, I believe he wants to ensure my safety until then. I apologise for not telling you before, I hope you can forgive me.”

Acacius turned his head and looked at you. His eyes conveyed a multitude of emotions, including anger, frustration, and longing.

"Nevertheless, I am unable to allow you to accompany him. I will take you to the meeting if that is your desire."

"No, the emperors may think you've been hiding me all this time. I won't let this happen to you because of me."

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, as if trying to suppress his anger.

“Don't you realize how much I care about you? They've already seen you with me, so I'm prepared to face whatever consequences may result.”

You frowned. "I would never want to cause any damage to your reputation."

"Is that why you decided to leave me? What exactly you were planning, I wonder?”

You bit your bottom lip. “To go to Geta and tell him everything.”

Acacius' eyes flashed with anger. “I'm hoping you're joking right now.”

“He said he owed me, I thought he'd understand.”

“Do you really think he's as pure and kind-hearted as you? How can you be so reckless?”

"Perhaps he'll reconsider when I tell him I'm his sister.”

Acacius shook his head, “Wrong. He won't. He'll kill you on the spot, I'm sure of it.”

You were fairly certain that what he said was true, but you still had the inclination to believe it wasn't. Then, two more riders came down the street towards you and dismounted next to the other man. The General immediately sensed a potential threat and pulled you behind him for protection.

Macrinus knew exactly what he was doing and he was determined to see it through.

It is probable that his slave felt emboldened by the arrival of the other men, as evidenced by his demeanor, which shifted from apprehension to confidence.

"General, I advise you not to cause us any trouble. We're taking the lady with us.”

Acacius drew his sword and looked at them with a glint in his eye, ready for whoever or whatever was about to come at him.

"I dare you to try.”

They seemed to hesitate at first, looking at each other, then drew their swords, the tension rising. You swallowed hard.

"Three against one. I heard you were a good soldier, but you don't stand a chance against three of us." He smiled, but it seemed a little cruelly.

"You must have misheard then. I've killed more when I was in a worse situation." His voice was threatening, making the other person uneasy.

"Indeed, I had the opportunity to observe it at the Colosseum. However, we also fought there, so it would be unwise to underestimate us."

They fought there? At the Colosseum? Gladiators?

You had observed the combatants in action during your time there; you had witnessed it first-hand, with your own eyes, and it sent a chill down your spine.

You moved in front of the general, who was still pointing his sword at the others.

“Marcus, you need to let me go with them.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please, hear me out, the council meeting is just around the corner, he can't do anything to me, he needs me.”

You grasped his other hand tightly with both hands and looked into his eyes.

“Please, I ask you to trust me.”

“He's the one I don't trust.”

“I know. I don't trust him either but I need to find out what his intention is before the meeting.”

Marcus looked at you for a moment, considering your words. Then he sheathed his sword. "Very well. You're right.”

The others seemed relieved, but they tried not to show it.

"A wise choice, General," the man said, his voice firm and his gaze steady. He gestured for the others to put their swords back, then approached you with purpose.

"Come with me, my lady," he held out his hand to you and the general caught it in mid-air.

"Who gave you permission to touch her?"

He pushed his hand away and grabbed your wrist. "I will be accompanying her.”

The man laughed and looked at you with disdain. "As you wish. That's fine by me."

As he walked away towards his horse, the general turned to you.

"I'm assuming you've ridden a horse before?"

You didn't ride much in Egypt, given that you lived inconspicuously.

"Well, sort of.”

The look on your face made him smile. He pulled you close to his horse. His black horse lifted one leg and just the tip of the hoof touched the ground, snorted heavily. Acacius stroked the horse's back gently. "You should know how lucky you are to be carrying this beautiful woman, Dromos. Be gentle with her.” The horse lets out a soft whinny as a reply, and Acacius smiles.

“Dromos?”

“Yes, I named him that because he runs so fast.”

“I see.You seem to be quite good friends,” you said with a smile. Hesitantly you reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran your fingers through the black of his mane.

“Indeed we are,” he agreed. He placed his hand on the stirrup and held it for you. “Place your foot here and I'll lift you up."

You did as he said, then he put his hand to your waist, lifted you easily and sat you on the thin saddle. When the horse moved, you grabbed onto the horn of the saddle to steady yourself. Then you felt a soreness between your legs but forced yourself to ignore. Acacius quickly climbed on top of the horse and positioned himself right behind you, gripping the reins. You felt safe as you felt his muscular body caressing yours from behind.

“Lead the way,” the General said loudly to the other man, you felt his warm breath just above your ear. The man nodded kicks his horse forward. Acacius gave a gentle pat to Dromos, he neighs, and starts to move faster. Acacius moves a little, closing the gap between you, his arms around you from either side as he holds the reins. Your body shook with the movement of Dromos as he galloped at a moderate speed through the streets of Rome. Your back kept bumping against the General's strong chest, and you even felt his chin in your hair. You gasped. Was he doing it on purpose?

You glanced over at his face and noticed a smile at the corner of his lips, even though his eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m guessing you’re upset with me?" you asked as the General pulled the rein to the right to steer it, top of your shoulder bumping his chest.

"For leaving me in bed and abandoning me?"

"And for not mentioning the letter before."

"That too.”

When you turned to look at him, a few strands of your hair got caught in his beard. The hairs kept flying with the wind, brushing against his face. He seemed pleased with them.‘

"I must admit that I was eager to find out who you are, but this is beyond what I could have imagined. I can understand why you did it, but I'm still hurt. I wish you hadn't left me in bed. You broke my heart.”

You swallowed, “Forgive me, I didn't know what to do. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. Will you let me heal your heart? I'm Medicus, you know?" You blinked your eyes under your long eyelashes, he smiled.

He buried his lips in your flowing hair and whispered in your ear.

"My heart is yours to heal. You don't need to be a medicus for that.”

You smiled as you felt his lips on your cheek, your lips yearning so much to touch his. At that moment, as you rode with him on his horse, you wished that he would take you far away, to a place where no one could find you two, you were willing to give everything for it.

Macrinus’s Villa…

The men on horseback dismounted and led their horses into the courtyard. Acacius gently pulled his horse's reins and rode in a circle, glancing towards the villa. It seemed as though he was hesitating. Soon, Macrinus appeared in the doorway and grasped the bridle to the right, turning it around to face him.

"My lady," he bowed his head and greeted you. "General Acacius?”

Acacius ignored him and dismounted, one hand still clutching his horse's harness.

“Sir Macrinus, have you stationed your slaves outside my villa to keep watch? Or should I say your gladiators?”

Macrinus smirked. “I needed to make sure Lady Aurelia was safe.” He turned his eyes to you.

“I think you can rest assured that it's not something you need to worry about, especially when she's with me.”

“Which is why you must have accompanied her here, I see.”

“Apparently.” Acacius muttered.

“Then let me invite you in,” he gestured with his hand.

Acacius turned to you and held out his hand. “My lady.”

You smiled, initially surprised that he was addressing you with respect for the first time, but then realising how much you liked it. You took his hand and dismounted the horse and allowed yourself to be embraced by his protective arms. He took you gently and lowered you down.

As your feet touched down on the ground, you felt the throbbing return and let out a quiet moan.“Are you alright?” Acacius's voice was worried.

You regarded him with a somewhat hesitant expression. "I'm a little sore from..." You pursed your lips.

Acacius stroked your disheveled hair with his big hand. "I wish I could relieve your soreness.”

You blushed at the memory of witnessing how well his passionate lips worked on your body before.

“I'll take that as a promise for later, General.” You smirked mischievously.

“At your service, my lady,” he grasped your hand gently and kissed it.

As your heart melted in the warmth of his smile, Macrinus watched you from afar, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. He felt something very different. He controlled his expression though and cleared his throat. You and the General looked at him, his warrior slave standing beside him. Acacius held out his hand, offering it to you.

“Shall we?”

Sitting in his garden, you realized that Macrinus' villa was bigger than the General's. The fountain in the center of this big courtyard was rectangular, and in the center was a statue of the queen goddess Salacia, the wife of Neptune, the goddess of the sea and water. She's holding a bucket just above her head and the water is gushing out of it.

The columns ahead were white and straight, half covered with red marble, with ionic protrusions at the corners. They proudly stood among various trees and plants, but this beauty was nothing compared to the Domus Severiana. That palace was magnificent and wonderful.

Although you couldn't see it clearly because it was still dark, you were wondering what kind of flowers were behind the fountain when Macrinus' gladiator slave stood there, blocking your view. You met his gaze and turned to the general, who was standing next to you. He seemed uneasy and reluctant to sit down. His body language showing his tension. You reached out and grasped his hand.

"Would you perhaps like to sit with me?"

"My lady, I believe I will be more comfortable like this," he replied, his eyes on the gladiator who crossed his arms and looking at Macrinus as he approached.

“Apologies, I am expecting an important guest, I wanted to make sure he arrived safely,” he sat down opposite you and crossed his legs. A delighted smile spread across his face.

“I assume you brought the letter with you, my lady?” he said, looking at you.

You glanced at the General, to whom you entrusted the letter. He crossed his arms and looked directly at Macrinus.

“Prior to that, elucidate your intentions regarding the council.”

"I'm going to make sure our lady gets her 'filia regis' (princess) title back and gets what's rightfully hers. You know, general, you were what, twenty? You must have been about that age when Aurelia was born. Septimius gave me the task of taking her away to protect her. He made me promise.”

"I was nineteen," the General stated, his eyes distant as he recalled those days. "And you were the one who made up the lie that she drowned in the river when she was little? You actually took her to Egypt? With that man, Vicius."

He turned his head to look at you, to see your expression. You felt sad when you remembered him, but you gave the general a half-smile anyway.

“There were three hundred days of mourning throughout the empire,” Macrinus gave you a half smile. “Then it was forgotten when it was time for Caracalla's fifth birthday, but the people of Rome must still remember their princess. The year you were born was a very prosperous one, the fields were full of new crops, there were hardly any beggars in the streets.”

A soft smile spread across Acacius' face, you wondered why, but you didn't feel comfortable to ask when Macrinus around.

“Wine,” Macrinus ordered one of the other slaves. “My lady, please eat something,” he said, indicating the food on the table. “You need to gather your strength.” Then he looked at Acacius who shook his head. “I should head out to dress properly for the Council,” he said and turned to you and got down on his knees. "My Lady, I will be ready to provide any assistance you may require at the council today."

“No, General, I cannot allow you to do that.”

He looked confused.

"Perhaps it would be better if I said that I've kept my name a secret from you.”

“They've already seen us together,” he protested. “I don't think they'll care about that.”

"Lady Aurelia is right, General. It would not be good for you to make your side clear, at least from Geta's point of view. Half the council already knows everything and we have the upper hand."

"Marcus, please," you grabbed his big hand with both of yours. "I don't want you to stay in the middle of this.”

He took both your hands in his, his beard brushing against your skin. "As you wish. but know that if things don't go our way, I will do my utmost to ensure your safety." He kissed you gently on the top of your hands and stood up. "I will see you at the Council then." He nodded and left the courtyard. With his leaving, you felt abandoned, out of place.

Macrinus' gladiator-slave accompanied the general out into the courtyard and returned a moment later. As his eyes met yours, you turned your head.

“I wonder why you keep gladiators as slaves in your villa?”

Macrinus smiled, shaking the wine glass in his hand, “Choosing gladiators is an art, they often become prisoners of war, just like other slaves.”

“So you buy them, train them and put them in fights,” you looked at the gladiator without turning your head. "What is the return on investment of this strategy? Is this the best way to gain the trust of the emperors, by providing entertainment?”

Macrinus laughed. “My lady, you have the right angle, but I don't think you see the whole picture. Perhaps you could save your thinking skills for the council, as it is almost time. My slaves will be ready to dress you properly," he said, rising to his feet. "If I may ask, as you still haven't given me the letter."

One of the girl slaves came as you stood up. “The general has the letter, I'm sure he will bring it before the council.”

“I must say, I am rather surprised at the extent of your trust in him.” Macrinus narrowed his eyes.

“I trust him more than anyone,” you said confidently. You couldn't bear to hear him speak unfairly of the General. You took a step back, looking around to avoid making eye contact with him. “Now, where do I get dressed?”

Roman Forum…

The Roman Forum was the centre of day-to-day life in Rome: the site of triumphal processions and elections; the venue for public speeches, criminal trials and gladiatorial matches; and the nucleus of commercial affairs. Here statues and monuments commemorated the city's leaders. This was where the Senate—as well as Republican government itself—began. The Senate House, government offices, tribunals, temples, memorials and statues gradually cluttering the area.

By the time the carriage carrying you and Macrinus arrived, the morning sun was already brightening the streets. The streets were now filled with Romans, spread around, going about their daily routines. This particular street was noticeably more crowded than usual. A considerable number of people had gathered in anticipation of the emperors' attendance at today's significant meeting. Among them were individuals with pending court cases, spectators eager to witness the new gladiators' initial contests, distinguished patricians and their wives, and those in need, who had come with the hope of receiving alms from them. Additionally, there were individuals who were to be dedicated as priestesses to the temple of Vesta and their companions, as well as those with business at the state house and, of course, the esteemed members of the senate and their wives.

Women were allowed to walk around the Roman Forum, but not in the Curia Julia, the senate building. Of course, the empress managed to sneak herself in - to see what was being said behind her sons' backs and what plans were being made - so it was inevitable that no one would pretend to know about it.

Today, Julia Domna managed to get herself into the Curia in the same way, but you couldn't see it because the entrance was too far away. Macrinus got out of the carriage and looked in towards you.

‘My lady, you will have to sit here for a while, you know women are-.’

‘Yes, sir, I know.’

He turned his head and squinted at something in the distance.

‘Acacius,’ he murmured.

Upon hearing his name, your heart began to race with excitement. He was the only person you desired to see at that moment. Macrinus took a step back, and the general's footsteps could be heard just outside the carriage.

"Did you bring the letter, General Acacius?" Macrinus asked.

You stuck your head out, eager to see his face. Cato was beside him, he took your letter out of his leather bag and handed it to Acacius, he handed it to you. You reached for it, and he turned his head to meet your eyes, making you realise how much you had missed him, even in such a short time.

“My Lady, I would like to return this to you.” The General was dressed differently today, in a toga worn on formal occasions. White in colour, it covered almost his entire body, with burgundy stripes around the edges. The shawl was of the same colour and pattern, the sleeves were short so you could see the thick gold bracelets on his arms, it looked perfect and neat.

“I am grateful to you for ensuring its safety,” you said quietly.

Macrinus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should go inside now to start the session."

“Sir Macrinus, you go first.” Acacius said in a detached manner, his eyes locked on you.

“My lady,” he bowed his head, turned around and made his way towards the wide stairs of the Curia.

"Are you feeling a bit nervous?” His voice softened for you.

“A little,” you lied.

He smiled and put his hand on your cheek. “No need to be, you have nothing to worry about. It's your birthright, like every Roman. I think that's the only thing Macrinus and I agree on.”

You touched his hand on your cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know, thank you.”

He tilted his head towards you, almost close enough to touch you with his lips. “I will always be there to protect you, my beautiful lady, no matter what the outcome.” He held your eyes captive for a moment with his eyes, then pulled himself back. He looked ahead, frowning.

“They're here,” he said, squinting.

“Our Emperors!” Someone in the crowd shouted at the top of his lungs.

Your swallowed, feeling your heart began to race. Acacius stroked your hair gently, "There's no need to be so distressed. They can't do anything to you. There are very few people in the Senate who likes them. As much as I don't like him, I have to hand it to him, Macrinus knows what he's doing, almost succeeded in convincing the entire council,’ he said. 'I must go in now, Octavius will accompany you in,' he said, kissing your hand for the last time before leaving. You inhaled deeply while holding the letter in your hand tightly, praying to all the Gods.

Curia Julia…

All councillors were present and awaiting the commencement of the session, with the oldest councillor taking the lead in opening the meeting. The murmurs of the members of the Senate reverberated gently off the walls of the Curia's spacious, high-ceilinged meeting hall. When their names were announced a little later, all the congressmen stood up and showed their greeting as the Emperors entered the hall from the great hall, albeit somewhat reluctantly. They took their seats in the western corner of the round hall, their attire differing from that of the members of the senate in that it was rather more ostentatious and therefore perhaps less appropriate.

The longest-serving member of the council approached the emperors and stood on the ledge in the centre of the hall to offer them his greetings. He surveyed the room with a gesture that seemed to convey a desire to embrace everyone. “What an auspicious day. Many gave their lives so that we could stand here once more, for the sake of an empire, a government with laws.”

All the members applauded him, except the emperors, who seemed bored already. Acacius was in the lowest tribune and sat quite close to them. Many were surprised to see him at the meeting today; he rarely attended, and no one even knew he voted in the elections.

“In honouring them, I would like to mention that we must pay our respects in your presence to General Marcus Justus Acacius, commander of the southern armies, General of the Legio III Augusta and protector of Rome.” he said, raising his hand and pointing to him. “He demonstrated remarkable courage in defending the Rome and is worthy of our respect and gratitude.”

The members started clapping more enthusiastically. They were all chanting the General's name together. Acacius stood up to show his appreciation and then sat back down.

“Senate is now in session. I invite Sir Macrinus here to make his speech.”

As oldest member approached the tribune to take his seat, Macrinus rose from his seat, came to the centre and greeted the emperors and members.

“Your Majesties, esteemed council members. The reason we are gathered here today is not a matter of government or politics. It is a matter concerning our former emperor, Emperor Septimius Severus and his family.” As he extended his hand towards Emperors, Geta turned curiously to Caracalla.

“What is he saying, brother?” he whispered.

Caracalla answered without looking at him. “Patience brother, you’ll understand soon enough.”

“So you knew?”

He did not answer, which made Geta angry and curious.

By the time Octavius came to get you from the carriage, you were pretty bored sitting inside.

“My lady, it's time.”

You nodded and got out of the carriage with his help, taking a quick look around as you walked together through the crowd. The gladiator fights had taken a break, and people were discussing what was happening in the Curia. One of the trials was underway. A man and a woman were crying, as if they had been convicted of some crime you didn't understand. As you made your way up the stairs of the Curia, one after the other behind Octavius, one of the guards at the entrance blocked your path with an outstretched hand. Octavius brushed his arm away with the back of his hand.

"She is no ordinary woman, and the council members are waiting for her."

"Forgive me," he said, stepping back to allow you to pass.

You and Octavius entered a large hall and proceeded between tall, imposing white pillars. After a short while, you heard the voices of several men. Was there a disagreement in the council? Octavius stood near two large, thick pillars and looked in the direction of the sound, raising his hand towards you. "Perhaps we should wait a moment."

As the big iron door swung open, you could hear the voices inside a bit better.

"Are you saying that our sister is alive?"

It was Geta's voice, sounding angry. "Where has she been all this time?"

"As I said, Your Majesty, your sister was sent to Egypt on your father's orders. She wasn't there when I went to find her, but she is here now. Your sister is waiting outside with the letter your father, the Emperor, wrote to her. Shall I bring her here now?"

Macrinus' voice was loud but persuasive.

“Yes, the council wants to see her!” Someone else's voice was louder than his.

The voices that rose and echoed in the great hall were positive, a flicker of nervousness swept through you. Soon, Macrinus appeared in the doorway.

“My lady, remove your cloak, please.”

You did as he said, Octavius held it for you, and you felt a little reassured that he was there.

Macrinus accompanied you into the meeting room, his demeanor somewhat less reassuring than you had hoped. “Walk with a little more confidence, my lady, you will soon be declared 'filia regis’ (princess).”

His confident face was only working in his favor. It had nothing to do with you. You were trying to look ahead as you descended the stairs one by one, the councillors began to murmur, you didn't feel ready to look at them, and soon you heard Caracalla's hysterical laughter, you were startled and looked in the direction of the sound.

He pointed his finger at you. “You! It must be a lame joke!”

Geta was silent, only his eyes locked on you, leaning forward and marveling under his eyebrows. Caracalla stormed out of his seat and came over to Macrinus.

“What does this mean?”

“You told me my sister was coming, but you forgot to tell me who she was?” he scolded him in a low voice.

“It's pure coincidence that you've met her before, Highness.”

He then looked in the direction where the general was sitting, and you had the opportunity to observe him and the others. All the members were dressed in white togas, similar to the general, but with black embroidery around the edges of their clothes. It was a large hall filled with men, and it was somewhat awkward and uncomfortable to be in the middle of them as the only woman.

"She resembles her mother," one individual posited.

“Indeed, she is an exact match, both physically and genetically," another concurred. “Just like in the records.”

A multitude of voices were present, yet your attention was directed towards Caracalla, who directed a finger at the general.

"For how long have you been aware of this, General Acacius?”

“He didn’t know!”

As your voice echoed through the vast hall with a ringing effect among all the male voices, the other voices gradually faded and Caracalla turned to look at you. Then you handed him the letter.

“I got the chance to open it on the day of the ceremony. That's when I found out everything. General Acacius had no idea.”

This time you said it looking at all the council members as your eyes met Acacius. He was staring at Caracalla, looking a bit angry. Geta arose from his seat and approached Caracalla. He took the letter from his hand and read it over, then looked at you.

“Why didn't you say anything that day?”

"I was planning to," you replied. "I was uncertain of your reaction and what you would do," your eyes shifted to Caracalla. Another councillor approached and examined the letter.

“This is the seal of Emperor Septimius Severus,” he said, looking at the other members. Caracalla grasped the letter and held it up. “But a broken seal and a piece of paper which doesn't prove anything.” Geta reached out to take it from him, but he pushed him away with his elbow, tore the letter into pieces and threw it on the floor.

You were filled with anger. "That was the last thing left of my father," your voice was higher than you would have cared to have it be.

Macrinus interjected, "Your Majesty, while I understand your concerns, I believe it would be beneficial to hear the rest of the speech before making a decision.”

“I want to hear it.” Geta sat back in his seat.

Caracalla nodded and reluctantly joined him.

You clenched your fists, looking at the pieces of the letter on the floor, some of them scattered on your sandals. It was hard not to cry, your father's seal lying on the ground like something worthless. How could he be so cruel?

"Sir Macrinus, if I might be so bold, I would like to say a few words before you speak," said the oldest member of the council.

As he stood up and came to stand beside you, the room fell silent. "I was fortunate to have the opportunity to meet Lady Aurelia before she disappeared," he said, looking at you. "Her eyes and hair are similar, and her face has retained a remarkable resemblance. The emperor Septimius affectionately titled to her as 'Aurelia' due to her blonde hair. I am the one who made it official, and I have my signature and seal included in the record book. It is an honor to see you again, Lady Aurelia.” He bowed his head.

"I am truly grateful for your kind assistance, sir.” Your voice broke.

The crowd began to murmur again, with only a few objecting. The general was looking at you with a soft expression, and you smiled back, though you quickly turned your head away to avoid being noticed. Macrinus thanked the elderly member, waited for him to take his seat, and then he turned to the council members.

"I was fortunate to be able to visit Egypt four years ago at the Emperor's request. I went in search of the lady Aurealia, who was residing with Vicius, Septimius' personal medicus. I had a brief encounter with her, but it seemed that she was still unaware of the truth about herself. Vicius was of the opinion that the Emperor had not sent me. Perhaps he considered himself to be more closely aligned with the Emperor than I was. I am still curious as to what the Emperor may have promised him,” he said sarcastically.

“He did a good job of hiding her,” Caracalla said, teasingly.

The crowd found his behaviour amusing and laughter echoed through the great hall. Geta joined in with the laughter. The mood in the hall started to lighten, but you frowned. It wasn't right to disrespect his memory.

“Sir Macrinus, you mentioned seeing the lady Aurelia around four years ago, which is around the time we lost Septimius Severus.” One of the councillors said.

“I know what you're implying, but I've always had the trust of our emperors since they ascended to the throne. I couldn't bring your sister because I returned here as soon as I heard the news of Septimius Severus' death.” He said, looking at him and then back to the emperors. “He gave me a task before he died and told me to get it done. But I'm not the only one. There's someone else he assigned. With your permission, I call consul ordinarius Gaius Septimius Severus Aper here.”

Once more, the great hall was filled with murmuring. Macrinus  turned  towards you. “Your cousin,” he explained. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“I hate him,” Caracalla growled. Geta didn't seem to like him either.

A moment later, Gaius entered the great hall with another letter in his hand, greeted everyone and came over to you. He appeared to be in his thirties, well built but not soldierly, with an attractive but stern face.

“Lady Aurelia, we meet at last,” he said, smiling at you. You nodded, but didn't have anything to say, and were pretty surprised.

“Another letter?” Geta enquired.

“It seems our father has written letters to everyone but us,” Caracalla said, making a face.

They stood up and gave their cousins the kind of hug that was pretty clearly insincere. It was obvious that they didn't get along. Gaius held the letter up for everyone to see.

“I was with my uncle when he wrote this letter, he sealed it in my presence.” Gaius said.

“Before or after you fled to Leptis Magna?” Caracalla asked. Geta burst out laughing.

He ignored them and spoke to the council instead. "Members of the Senate, I break the seal in your presence," he said, and broke the seal of the letter that the father had sealed himself and opened it.

Macrinus asked permission to take the letter and summarised it for the council members.

“It seems that our Emperor has directed Gaius to ensure that upon the eventual return of Lady Aurelia, she will be duly restored to her full birth rights. That makes two of us sir Gaius.” Macrinus and him exchanged looks that made you sure they talked about his before.

“I am privileged to be able to convey greetings from your relatives in Leptis Magna to you. The entire Severan Dynasty salutes you, my lady,” Gaius said, bowing to you. “And of course you, our emperors,” he bowed to them, as a reply Caracalla turned his head in disgust.

Oldest member of council came towards you again with few members beside him.

‘Then, before our emperors and your esteemed councillors, I extend an invitation to all to welcome our filia regis princess Septimia Aurelia Marciana, first of the name, daughter of Emperor Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus and his first wife Paccia Marciana, patroness of Leptis Magna back to her home.” He sang out.

"A very warm welcome back to Lady Aurelia!" someone stood up and said in a cheerful voice.“Welcome back, filia regis Aurelia!” another joined him.

And all the council members repeated in unison.

Geta approached you in a cheerful manner, clapping his hands. “Welcome, I embrace you as my sister," he said, kissing you on the cheek. You were somewhat startled, but you kept your composure, your cheeks blushed. "We must celebrate this," Caracalla said, kissing you on the other cheek, smiling involuntarily. You forced a smile in return, although he still made you feel somewhat nervous.

“My brother is right, we must celebrate!”

All the members were now standing and applauding, their enthusiasm evident in the resounding applause that echoed through the great hall.

"Sir Macrinus, bring the new gladiators to the Domus Severiana tomorrow. I want new games!" Caracalla smiled with joy.

"As you wish, your majesty," he bowed his head.

"But brother, tomorrow is the festival of Saturnalia," Geta whined.

“Well? That's better, it'll add some excitement.”

While they were chatting, you scanned the room, looking for the General among all the men.

Caracalla turned to you. “As our sister, you're supposed to come with us now?”

This was something you hadn't planned. You didn't factor in the idea of living under the same roof with them. Why didn't you think of that before?

Geta stood between you and Caracalla. “Mother must be pretty shaken up, perhaps you could go and find her first, I'll accompany Aurelia, she's a bit wary of you,” he grinned at you and took your arm.

Caracalla smirked. “Fine by me.” But you could tell he was watching you two.

'Come on, sister, there's lots to do.' You were a little surprised by how fast they welcomed you, but you feel grateful somehow.

The council members were all standing and chatting, and although you wanted to go to the general in this crowd and talk to him, you had to put it out of your mind for now. Before Geta pulled you along by the arm and led you out, you looked back at Marcus for the last time and saw that he looked worried. As you descended the stairs of the Curia with Geta, cheers and applause erupted from the crowd outside.

“Emperor Geta!”

Guards surrounded you to protect you, the crowd chanting Geta's name with enthusiasm.

Geta raised his hands high and greeted them. Then he grabbed you by the wrist and raised your arm.

"People of Rome, allow me to introduce you to your filia regis, Lady Aurelia!"

You didn't expect it to happen so soon. The crowd fell silent. Caracalla came running up behind him and grabbed Geta's other arm.“Eager much, brother? We must announce at the festival tomorrow.”

After a brief period of murmuring, the crowd suddenly began clapping and shouting again. You were taken aback when Julia took your other arm. How long had she been there?

"I would like to invite you all to welcome Lady Aurelia!" she sang.

"Welcome Lady Aurelia!" someone shouted loudly and cheerfully.

“Lady Aurelia!”

Just like in the hall, the streets of the Roman Forum began to echo with your name. It was a strange feeling, a bit frightening, exciting, and proud. You weren't used to any of it, but you were born that way, a princess. It will take me a while to get used to it, you thought.

“See? They love her already,” Geta winked at Caracalla, then pushed back the hair that had fallen over your shoulder. “Smile, sister.”

For him it was easy to say, for you it was all so sudden and you would have to adjust to this new situation. As the crowd chanted your names, the general, who had been observing the proceedings from a distance, seemed somewhat displeased that Geta had managed to touch you with such ease.

He hated to see another man touches you, even if it was your half-brother.

"General Acacius, it's been a long time," Gaius came up to him.

"Sir Gaius," the general nodded. "You are correct, I had just been appointed commander of the southern armies when I arrived at Leptis Magna. It must be decades." His eyes were watching you from afar.

"I must say that you played a significant role in the success of the battle there," he said. "I believe our people are still grateful to you." He was also observing you and Geta.

"I believe you stayed there to hide the emperor's letter. I understand why you chose to stay away from the capital," the general's eyes shifted to Caracalla.

"I believe he may view me as a potential threat to the throne, as he has done in the past. However, I believe it is my duty to remain here and complete my mission," he said with conviction.

The general observed Gaius' gaze and perceived that he was focusing it on you.

"I must ensure the safety of Lady Aurelia."

"But perhaps it would be wise to ensure your own safety as well? I believe you may be in more danger than she is.”

Gaius picked up on the hint in his voice. "Sir Macrinus told me a little about your relationship with her. I'm really grateful that you protected her while I was away."

The general stayed silent and waited, obviously sensing Gaius' intentions with his man instincts.

"I'll ask the emperors for her hand in marriage. I'm sure she'll be safer in Leptis Magna. She can't be happy with them – look how uneasy she is with them.”

The general looked tense. "I wasn't aware you were a widow," he said.

"Yes, I got divorced a while ago," he replied with a smile. "I would like to remarry, as a widow, you know what I mean, I guess."

Acacius returned his smile with a disgusted expression. "Could Iask why you believe Lady Aurelia will marry you? I am merely cautioning you in advance, Sir Gaius, because I am convinced that you will be rejected." He smiled wryly at him, then turned his back on him and began to ascend the stairs.

Macrinus approached him as Gaius glared angrily after him." You were right – there is something between those two."

"Don't worry, tomorrow at the festival we'll take the first step to get rid of Acacius once and for all."

Gaius turned to him, looking angry. "How can that be? He's someone everyone respects. He's the biggest obstacle in my way."

He touched his shoulder. ”The gladiators are ready to fight, we just need Majesties’ approval tomorrow. Then Acacius will find himself in the Colosseum, and then we'll get rid of him for good. Then there will be nothing in our way, my friend." He smiled confidently.

Palatine Hill…

As the morning sun shone on the crimson-red roofs of the Domus Severiana, the birds chirped cheerfully and flew around, their songs of joy filling the air. Yesterday was a turning point for you. Things moved pretty quickly, and it was a bit of a challenge to adjust. When you first arrived with your half-brothers last evening, it was a lot easier than you thought it would be. Julia, their mother, was pretty quiet all night, but she didn't react badly to you, which surprised you even more. e. You got the feeling that she could be pretty ruthless, even though she seemed pretty calm. The idea of living in the same house with them wasn't appealing to you. In fact, it made you feel uneasy. Geta was the only one who didn't make you nervous, but you knew he was unpredictable like his mother.

You opened your eyes in your new room and bed, looked around, and closed them again. This room was big and luxurious, much more so than your room in the general's villa. A bit too much, you thought. You pulled the silk bed sheet over your head and sighed deeply. You would give anything to open your eyes to the new day lying next to Marcus, in his arms.

You were no longer a slave, nor a Medicus, nor could you go to his villa as a commoner. It seems that even as a princess, you don't always get to choose. But you missed him so much, his strong arms around you, his sensual lips, all the memories you had in his villa.

A gentle knock at the door momentarily distracted you from your thoughts, which seemed to fade into the elegant surroundings of this splendid room.

"Please come in," you said, sitting up in bed.

A young slave girl entered the room.

"My lady, I am pleased to see you are awake," she said, her voice conveying a sense of concern.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, it's about Emperor Geta."

You removed the bedclothes around you and got out of the large bed.

“What happened to him?”

“He asked me to take you to him quietly, he doesn't want the Empress to hear.”

‘Hear what?’

‘He seems a little unwell.’

‘Take me to him,’ you said quickly. You were concerned that the poison might still be present in his body.

You left your room and went into the main hall to leave your chamber. Your room was in the east corner of the other courtyard. They said, it was your mother and father’s chambers when they first married. You strode up the stairs and entered Geta's chambers. It was still early, so the room was quiet. The other slaves looked at you with concern as you approached the door of the room where you had come to heal him the last time. They greeted you and opened the door for you. You were surprised to see a couple of young slaves lying on the floor. Their bodies were naked, which made you blush with shame. It was clear that your brother Geta had a lot of fun last night. There were two girls in Geta's bed, but he was nowhere to be seen. You looked at the latrina (bathroom, toilet) door and heard a coughing sound behind. He should have been there, but you had no intention of finding him naked.

You cleared your throat and called out to him.

“Highness? Geta? Brother?”

There was a brief interlude of laughter, and then he looked up at you through the latrine door.

“I need to get used to this, a woman's voice calling me brother.”

His face was as white as marble.

"Is everything all right? You look a little pale.”

“It's because I started the damn day throwing up.”

You looked down at the wine glasses on the floor and sighed.

"You must have had a lot to drink. You're just recovered, so you need to be careful about alcohol.” As you approached the latrine door, he was coming out, you almost bumped into each other. You quickly backed away and turned around, it was a bit stuffy in there, you moved to open the big window.

Geta looked like a little boy, messy hair and all, far away from an emperor.

"Do you think it's because I didn't drink your herbal thing?" He threw himself into the armchair by the window, covered his face with his arm.

“You didn’t?" You looked at him in shock. “How could you not? You had to drink it all to get better.” You were angry.

“But it tasted like cow dung.” He whined, lifted his arm up, gave you a mocking look. “What, are you scolding me?”

You swallowed. “Your Majesty,” you said suggestively. “You must drink the concoction for your own health.”

“I can't.”

You crossed your arms. “Don't you want to get better?”

“Because of that stupid whore, she broke the bottle. That's what happens when you bring a whore from the whorehouse.”

When you heard that word, you thought of Decima. You faced the fact that you had left her behind while you were dealing with everything.

“Could you make the mixture again? It's a festival day and I want to feel good, I don't want to look unwell especially when I’m with Caracalla.” He mumbled.

“I will, but may I ask something in return?”

“Aha! You don't act like a saint anymore, huh?” He laughed. You ignored his joke, approached him.

“Please, brother, a small favor?” Perhaps it seemed to you that you were looking at him in a pleading way. But to him, it was seductive, though he didn't show that. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, what can I do for my lovely sister? What is it you want, I really wonder?”

You smiled hesitantly. “A platoon of soldiers.”

Geta opened his eyes wide, let out a hearty laugh, stood up, and then laughed again, clapping his hands. You tried to stay calm and wait patiently.

He laughed so hard that the slaves on the floor and the ones in his bed all woke up and quickly left the room.

“You know, you really are an unbelievable woman.” His childish smile spread all over his face. He let out another laugh. Then he crossed his arms. “What are you planning to do with all those soldiers? I am genuinely curious.”

“I'm going to save my friend.”

He put his hand on his chin, thinking, narrowing his eyes.

“Why don't you ask the General Acacius for help? He can do alone what a platoon of soldiers can do.”

“Because he won't like what I'm going to do,” you were sure of it.The mere thought of it made you nervous, so you had to get it done as soon as possible.

Geta laughed again. “Something Acacius wouldn't like, hmm, sounds delicious. The soldiers are at your service, sister.”

Whore House…

In the early morning, the street where the whorehouse was located was not very crowded, even quiet. Compared to other parts of the city, it might have been the quietest place in the mornings, but not today. You had come to this street with a group of ten soldiers with a single purpose. And this time you had the power to do it. Not as Aya, but as Princess Aurelia.

Walking with confidence among the soldiers, not paying attention to the people looking at you. You paused in front of the door, and the soldiers stopped with you. You'd already told the commander what was going to happen. He nodded and kicked the door open. The soldiers scattered inside to make sure you got in safely, the last two entering with you, standing next to you, protecting you.

Juturna, the woman who owned this place, looked like she had just woken up. She was surprised to see the soldiers; her pupils were popping out of their sockets.

Then she saw you and pointed her finger at you.

“You! What the?”

The room where they were holding Decima was upstairs. You ignored Juturna's whine and headed for that room. The soldiers were waiting for you downstairs, and one of them came behind you to protect you. When you stepped in front of the room, you rushed inside. Decima was lying on the bed, her wrists still cuffed with chains. She looked a little weak and hardly looked at you. You were incredibly angry. You grabbed her chain and looked at the soldier.

“Uncuff her!”

The soldier nodded and grabbed the collar of one of the guards who had come after you.

“You heard the lady!”

The guard was frightened, he quickly uncuffed her, and Decima's bruised face lit up with a ray of hope. When she was free, she hugged you.

“Aya, but how?”

“Never mind now, let's get you out of here first.”

You grabbed her arm and led her out of the room. As you made your way downstairs, you heard Juturna's cries.

“Lady you can't do this!” she lunged towards you, but one of the soldiers pushed her back.

“Pay her compensation,” you ordered one of the soldiers. He handed her the pouch full of coins.

“This girl is now my slave, send the necessary papers to the Domus Severiana, and if you have any objections, try the Emperor Geta.”

She swallowed hard, knowing full well that she'd never want to contradict him. You smiled triumphantly as you and Decima walked out of there with the soldiers behind you. Then you stopped suddenly when you saw the general standing next to your carriage.

When did he come?

You led Decima inside the carriage and looked at him. He'd called the commander of the troops to him and was talking to him. He punched him on the chest, but not so hard. Was he scolding him?

As you approached him, the soldier was coming towards you, rubbing his chest where General had hit him.

“The General says we're done here, my lady, if you'll excuse me.” he bowed his head.

“The General is right, you can go,” you said, looking at General.

“You really do whatever you set your mind to, you are so stubborn, my lady.” He muttered.

“How do you know I was here?”

Acacius crossed his arms and squinted at you. “I am the General, remember? All the soldiers in this city are under my command.”

"I see. I understand why you might be upset with me for not asking for help. I thought you could stop me from coming here, so I asked Geta for help."

"I can see that you and your brother Geta are close. I believe he asked you for something in return?”

"I promised to make the herbal concoction to heal him."

"I'd like to hear the real answer."

He smiled, but his eyes were sharp. It was impossible to lie to those eyes.

"Perhaps I told him you wouldn't like it," you said, biting your lower lip.

“This is the answer I'm looking for.”

“I didn’t want you to upset, I’m sorry.”

“It's not something you should be sorry about,” he said, looking at the carriage behind you. “You did it for your friend, I understand.”

Her eyes softened, and he was smiling once more, which prompted you to return his smile.

“I miss you,” you said in a low tone.

"I miss you more, my lady. "There are memories of you all over the villa. Facing those memories makes me sorrowful." His brown eyes were warm. "I find I miss you more when I'm in my room. There are so many reminders of you there," he said, his lips curving in a mischievous smile. He leaned his head towards you, close to your ear. "Especially in my bed." You gasped as his warm breath hit your face, your heart racing.

You almost forgot you were in the middle of the street. You were ready to throw yourself into his arms. You pulled yourself together with his giggling, he must have been amused by your facial expression. You jokingly nudged his muscled arm with your elbow.

"You're pretty shameless, General. Seducing me right here in the middle of the street.”

“Apologies, my lady,” he said, laughing.

"Are you coming to the festival today?”

“Yes, I've been invited and I would like to take this opportunity to talk with the emperors.”

You heard the hint in his voice, but you didn't understand it. His grin made you even more curious. He never smiled when he talked about emperors, so this was weird.

‘What are you going to talk to them about, I wonder?’

Acacius held your hand and looked into your eyes. "If it pleases you, my lady, I will tell them I ask your hand in marriage."

You froze and opened your eyes wide, unsure if you had heard correctly. Acacius smiled and kissed your hand.

“You can give me your answer after the festival. You might want to head out now, as preparations are about to get underway.” He put his arm around you and pulled you towards the carriage.

You looked at him before getting in, “I'll be waiting for you there, Marcus.”

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3