#from the same ailment (childbirth)

[danyseastar]

something i noticed unfortunately:

[script from darksvster]

alicent is mid-late thirties, which obvious discourse means her mom was also probably a childbride when she had her (+ her having an older brother in gwayne helps to reaffirm this).

this was the case for rhaenyra in fire and blood; aemma was *fifteen* when she had rhaenyra and *twenty-three* when she died birthing baelon. rhaenyra was a mother THREE times over (with baby egg on the way) by the time she reached the age her mother ultimately met her fate at.

how am i supposed to mentally cope with this information?

[anyarose011]

Et tu, Brute?

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader x Lucius

Summary: You went by many different names: "Rome's Delight", "The Woman with the Golden Mouth", "Geta's Favorite Whore", and "Julia". None of these were your true name; all used just to dehumanize you as nothing more than a slave. When the General Acacius returns from conquering Numidia, and you meet one of the slaves that was brought from the bloodshed, you hope to reclaim not just your freedom...but power along with it.

Part 1 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Depictions of rape and SA [not shown], slavery, cannon typical violence, minor Stockholm Syndrome, major character deaths, historical inacuracy [but I tried my best to make it somewhat accurate] and Spoilers for Gladiator II

I saw this movie once, watched Game of Thrones at the same time, and cranked out a story where you, the reader, know how to play "The Game" (but also not because let's keep it kinda realistic) I'm gonna be honest, this might be a hot mess, and I used a script I found online (but Idk how accurate it is). Also, this first part is just mainly story based with the events of the film the SECOND part will focus on reader and Lucius' relationship (including smut, you sluts {I am also slut, don't worry}.

I do want to say though that the depictions of SA are in no attempt to romanticize them. I also decided not to write out the specific scenes because I myself am a survivor, and wanted to focus more on the protagonist's growth. The trauma still affects her story, but I do not want to write rape scenes merely for shock purposes.

Also, if you name is actually "Julia"...no it's not :)

Word Count: 16.1k

It was your own fault, that was what they tried to make you believe.

How dare you not wish to participate in the public baths, how dare you desire to bathe in the place you felt most safe.

Foolish, foolish girl. You were not even safe on your own porch in the house you grew up in.

Your father hadn’t been the wealthiest of merchants, but before he passed into the Elysian Fields after his death that year, he had made a fortune; so much as to buy a bathtub for your house.

If anything, you had bathed at night when you believed no one could see you not for your own modesty, but to prevent anyone from stealing it.

Yet, one particular night, a man had spotted you.

The Emperor Geta of Rome had watched your naked form glisten in the moonlight as you washed the most intimate areas of your body; sighing at the feeling of being clean after the day, only for your soul to feel tainted once morning broken.

Guards had nearly broken the hinges off the front door to your house, and dragged you to the palace. You had lived in that house for your entire life, the same neighbors beside you, yet as you kicked and screamed…none helped.

You had grown tired once in the palace, and the eldest of the twin emperors stood before you. He cupped your chin.

“What is your name, girl?”

You answered him, attempting to speak with venom, but the quaking of your voice betrayed anxiety.

He hummed, repeating your name. “Why are you all alone?”

You huffed. “My mother died in the battle that is childbirth, and my father was lost to an ailment in his loins.”

“You have no brothers?” Geta questioned, his eyes running down your form. “No husband?”

“They called my father strange for leaving me his possessions.”

“He mustn’t have passed on so long ago.”

“Why does the death of my father concern you if you only seek my body?” You questioned.

A smile twisted upon his lips. “Perhaps I like to know my fruit before I devour it.”

And he kissed you.

You had been kissed before, but this was the first time you hadn’t wanted to be. You hadn't expected him to be serious about devouring you. His teeth sank into your chin, then your cheeks, until they were finally upon your lips.

It was the first time, in all your life, you felt your body grow cold and freeze despite his hands wandering over you, pulling at the thin fabric of clothing that covered you.

You fell to the floor, clinging to it desperately as he tried to lead you to his chambers. You had expected him to order one of his men to kill you, or have them carry you…

Instead, he took you right there. He simply lifted his own robes then yours and stole what wasn’t his to take.

All you remembered of that was counting how many pillars were in the room.

You were one of his several concubines. Yet, despite being the newest, you were his favorite.

“Julia,” he whispered to you in the night a month after he had made you his. A month after he had decided to call you by his mother’s name instead of your own. “are you awake?”

You mewled, sitting up. “I am now, my love. What is it?”

Geta smiled, holding out a stack of parchment. “Look at what some of the men found in Carthago.”

You rubbed your eyes as the lamps in his room brightened before looking down at the crudely written words. Geta looked at you in earnest.

“Can you read them?”

A few days prior at him and his brother Caracalla’s birthday festivities, it was revealed that you spoke five languages: Latin, Phoenician, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek. Your father had taught you every single one of them to fend for yourself amongst all kind of people.

Now, it was nothing more than a shameless trick Geta used to his amusement.

“Rome’s Cleopatra,” he deemed you in front of the crowd. “the Woman with a Golden Mouth”.

Everyone in that room and all of Rome knew that your ability to speak so many dialects was not the only reason he gave you that title.

Still, as you lay in his bed with crumbling parchment in hands, you forced a tender smile. “Yes, I know what it says. Would you like to know?”

He laid his head in your lap without another word.

Months passed, and he had grown kinder…only when it was night, and even so, that was only when the moon was full.

There wasn’t a day where your body hadn’t ached from the turmoil he put you through. It was hard to discern when he would want you to be small and subservient to him, or confident and commanding in matters of the bed.

The handmaids that were blessed to not be in bed with him would bathe and coddle you as best as they could, for even through your suffering, you tried your best to treat them with kindness.

You didn’t even know who you were after the fourth month of being Geta’s slave.

Gone was the girl who had a peaceful life; there was now the Emperor’s Pet.

General Marcus Acacius returned to Rome after overtaking the kingdom Numidia in the emperors’ names, and it was the first time you were in his presence. It was certainly a surprise that Geta would string you alongside him on personal matters that had nothing to do with sex.

The general would glance at you every so often, and his look of pity felt more violating that any of the times Geta, or his brother, or anyone else in all of Rome had looked at you.

Upon the general’s return, a series of games at the Colosseum were to be hosted, among parties that would last for the remaining week.

The first was at Senator Thraex's home.

“My little Julia,” Geta caressed your cheek as you sat upon his lap in the makeshift throne. “might you fetch me another cup of wine?”

You nodded, taking his cup and kissing his hair. “I shall, my love.”

He ran his fingers down your neck as you got off of him and made your way to the barrels. Yet, as you passed an open door, something caught your eye. Peeking around the somewhat crack in the door, you saw a few men sat in the room, chains around their ankles and their wrists.

One of them, more muscular than the others with brown curls, held his head low. His skin wasn’t as dark as other men from Africa Propria, but not as pale as the Germanic lands.

When his eyes met yours, you saw a pale blueness only seen in the sky on a summer’s day.

Gasping, you hid behind the door for only a moment before looking again. His gaze was still on you. Deciding to end the strangeness of the situation, you spoke.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized.

He said nothing; you tried again.

“I’m sorry.” You said in Greek.

The look in his eyes changed to confusion, but he said nothing.

“Hebrew?” You questioned. “Aramaic? Phoenician?”

“You speak Phoenician?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard it in forever.

You nodded. “I speak five languages.”

“Ah,” he answered in your native tongue to your surprise. “Rome’s Cleopatra.”

Your nose scrunched as if you smelt something rotten. “You understood me the first time?”

“I did.”

“So why not say anything?”

“What am I to say to your pity?”

You hummed. “I do not pity you, I was showing respect.”

He scoffed. “Respect? Am I a man that looks as if I deserve respect?”

“I believe every man deserves respect so as long he is kind.” You glared at him.

The man shook his head, sighing. “You are a foolish child if you believe that men can be kind.”

“I haven’t for quite a while.” you stated. “I pray that it is the hope that kills me.”

He questioned. “And not one of the emperors?”

“What is your name, slave?” You crossed your arms.

He huffed, drawing his eyes away from you and clenching his fists before relaxing them. “Hanno.”

You nodded. “They call me ‘Julia’.”

“But that is not your name.”

It was blistering hot that particular day, but you felt your body run cold; the same cold you felt when Geta…when he first…

“Who says it is not my name?” You challenged.

“You are merely a concubine,” he said. “you are not a part of his lineage, and therefore, your name is not ‘Julia’.”

You do not know why you seethed with so much rage from his words. You did not even spit on him; you merely stomped away from that door, filled up the emperor’s cup, and went back to Geta.

“It took you nearly a millennium to come back, my sweet.” He scoffed yet kissed your bare shoulder. “I was beginning to worry.”

You shook your head, leaning against him as you sat on the arm of the throne. “You mustn’t over me, my love.”

“You seem distressed.” Caracalla teased beside you. “This is a festivity; you should be merry!”

All you did was smile and nod. It was a pleasant change from the parties you were forced to attend in the past; you weren’t the center of attention, and this was the first time Geta dressed you in the bright colors everyone else wore instead of white.

You could pretend you were royalty for a day.

Not so long after you came back, both Thraex and Macrinus, a stable master who traveled far and wide for new gladiators, approached with their own champions to fight.

You were not even at the Colosseum, and yet, violence still had to be played for everyone’s amusement.

Hanno entered from the door you had previously been at, and another man entered from the opposite side of the room. Both were given swords.

“Brother,” Hanno began. “let us not kill each other for their amusement-.”

The other man struck him without hesitation. You had seen fights before, but none like this. It was ruthless, quick yet drawn out. Hanno lost his sword in the middle of it all, leading to him smashing a flowerpot over his opponent’s head.

The fight was still not done, he rose up on his feet and took his sword from the ground, raising it high above him. Hanno, against all odds, knocked him back onto the ground and took the sword just as they both sood, stabbing his opponent in the chest.

A chorus of cheers and groans echoed in the room. Geta arose from his seat, laughing and applauding as you sat there, eyes as wide as they could be at the bloodied sight before you.

“Remarkable! Gladiator, which part of the Empire do you hail from?” He questioned Hanno. Hanno stood stoically, glaring at the emperors before him. Geta tutted, turning to you. “Julia, open your golden mouth and-.”

“-The gates of hell are open night and day.” Hanno interrupted in the common language. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”

Geta smiled. “Ah…a poet!”

The rest of the world fell away as you could not tear your gaze away from the man laying on the floor. If he hadn’t died from his wounds, he would’ve from choking on his own blood.

“-You understand, don’t you?” Geta asked.

You sat in your own personal chambers that night for the first time in a while. You were never overjoyed to be in his bed, but being sent to your own perplexed you.

Then, he simply told you that you were to be General Acacius’ for the night.

“He’s sacrificed so much, my little Julia.” Geta combed his fingers through your hair to soothe you. “I refused him once already; I cannot do so again. Do you understand?”

The emperor had never shared you with anyone. He wasn’t delicate with you, but at least you knew what to expect.

He clenched your jaw. “I do not care to ask you a third time, girl.”

“Yes,” you squeaked. “I understand, Geta.”

Nodding, he softened his hold, leaning his head against yours. “You are still mine alone; I promise, it will only be us after tonight.”

You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

“There she is.” He kissed your lips before pulling away and standing. “He will be in right away. Do not fret, I told him to be gentle with you.”

Geta left through your chamber doors without another word. There you were, sitting on your bed, draped in silks you should have known were given to you out of lust and not out of kindness. Your eyes trailed to the empty vase on a table beside your bed.

You didn’t know what possessed you that night, but you yanked it off the table, and smashed it on your bed. The handle of the door began to rattle. Quickly pushing the shattered pieces under your bed, you hid a shard behind your back and sat at the head of the bed.

In came General Marcus Acacius, wearing only a thin overshirt that went down to his knees. You’d done this game of seduction many times with Geta, how different could it be for him? Grabbing the bottom of your night dress, you raised it until it bunched up your thighs, revealing your bare center to him.

He took a hitched breath. “My lady-.”

“-What troubles you, general?” You asked then smiled with gritted teeth. You felt your hand begin to ache as you squeezed the vase shard.

Marcus furrowed his brow, and as if he already knew, he said. “Cover yourself and show me what is behind your back.”

Your eyes dropped along with your heart. Still, as his face turned into a scowl, you cooperated. Handing him the shard and quickly pulling your dress back down, you spoke with intensity.

“If you will not stab me before you rape my corpse, then I shall throw myself from the nearest window and allow the people of Rome to defile me. I will not lie on my back and take it anymore.”

He took a deep breath, holding the sorry excuse for a weapon in his hand. “It is unwise to tell the enemy your plans.”

…What?

“It would serve you greatly to control the faces you make before harming a man as well. Yet, above all,” He held the shard out to you. “your enemy is not afraid to kill you; you should feel the same.”

“Why do you tell me this?” You asked, still not believing it.

Marcus sat up. “I believe we can help each other, my little dove.”

“How?”

He lowered his voice. “You have heard of the gladiator Maximus, his dream of a free Rome, yes?”

“Yes.”

“A dream that cannot be obtained from the rule of two emperors.” He lamented. “My wife and I, along with several others, plan…to fulfill our shared dream.”

They were going to overthrow Geta and Caracalla.

“What gives you reason to believe I won’t say a word of this to them?” You asked.

He smiled for the first time since you’d seen him. “That freedom belongs to you.”

“I…I’m still lost. How will I be of any use?”

“Emperor Geta favors you considerably. He is a man, and not a cunning one at that. There are ways to wear foolish men down.”

You nodded, beginning to understand. “There’s always a woman.”

“There’s always a woman.” He solidified. “Gain the trust of the public; make them love you, and they will not see the emperor’s whore but a woman of the people.”

“And how will that dethrone them?

He smiled. “My wife and I will meet with the counsel tomorrow night. I will send for you.”

You scoffed. “Geta said that after tonight I am just his alone.”

“Then I’ll refuse to give him Persia and India.”

“He’ll have your head.” You berated. “Besides, I don’t think he’d believe my cunt would be worth two countries.”

Marcus shrugged. “Considering he only wants you to himself, I have no doubt that it is worth that much. But I am unable to confirm it.”

You sighed. “Even if he’ll allow it, he’ll send a guard with me.”

“I am not one to invite a third into the bedroom.”

“Then where shall-?”

“-Little dove,” he interrupted. “the city was not built in a day, therefore it cannot be emancipated in one.”

Gods help and forgive you for being impatient on wanting to be free. Still, you composed yourself. “Alright.”

He nodded, standing up. “I will be seeing you on the morrow, one way or another.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“For what, child?”

You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze. “Not forcing yourself upon me.”

Marcus’ face softened, and he lowered himself to your height as you sat on the bed. He took your face into his hands, and you immediately tensed when his face drew closer to yours.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “it’s not that kind of a kiss.”

With a tenderness that reminded you of your father, he placed his lips on your forehead and pulled away. Giving you one last knowing nod, he promptly left your chambers.

You wanted to do nothing more than shed tears of happiness, yet for no reason at all, you could not cry.

Your father had only taken you to the Colosseum to watch mock animal hunting. Even when your friends invited you to watch gladiator fights or other public executions, he had found ways of making you stay far away from them.

There was a strange humor in sitting in the best chair for your very first gladiator duel. That being in the front as Emperor Geta ran his hand up and down your back.

In utter honestly, you tried to stray your attention away from the fights, speaking more with Caracalla of all people. He was more erratic than Geta by far, and it was more difficult to tell when he would be kind one moment, then out for blood the next.

Yet at least he was open about being cruel, unlike his brother.

When you would watch the fights…a familiar face seemed to catch both you and the general’s wife’s, Lucilla, eye.

The man with light skin yet hailed from Numidia…Hanno.

You hadn’t recognized him at first, for it wasn’t his mere presence that drew you to finally look at the event before you. No, it was the way he fought.

Most men previously had attacked with brute force; just stabbing the beast and hoping it would die. Hanno fought with wit. Simply using the sand beneath his feet as an advantage, blinding and tricking the rhinoceros to run directly into the wall.

He was cunning…he commanded the men beside him as if it weren’t the first time he’d done so in his life.

Then, when it came to deciding his fate when all seemed lost…Geta turned to you.

“My love,” he played with a strand of your hair. “shall I show the poet mercy, or bloodshed for your entertainment?”

Even if it weren’t Hanno, your answer would have been the same. “Mercy.”

As a hush fell over the crow, Geta rose his thumb up, sparing him. As cheers erupted, Hanno shook his head.

“No, no mercy.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “Gladiator, we have spared your life. No one refuses-.”

“-I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!”

Thus, the fight continued. An act of defiance…Peculiar…Quite peculiar.

Both you and Marcus were correct about the night; Geta did indeed allow you to go to the general’s house, but only if you were escorted by a trusted guard. When you arrived, Marcus immediately draped you in a cloak, practically covering your face and had excused as not wanting the staff to tell his wife of who he was bringing into their house.

Marcus led you into his chambers, and there you saw two people. Apparently, they weren’t even apart of the counsel; simply paid to pretend to be both you and the general as the guard would listen outside, assume it was the two of you fucking.

He had certainly thought through every little detail.

Marcus pushed on a stone in his chambers, revealing a hidden door. You had only heard of these within stories, and as he led you down the darkened passage with only a torch in one hand, and the other holding yours, you had never felt more alive since your past life had been stolen.

You were welcomed to a room filled with dozens of the senate you had passed by in the palace. How strange it was to see them all huddled into a dimly lit room, plotting the demise of the men they initially swore to serve.

An arm looped through yours, and it was Lucilla. She whispered into your ear.

“Whatever you have to say, speak it to me, and I shall speak to them.”

You turned. “Why must I not speak for myself?”

“I only allowed you to be here if Marcus agreed to not let your voice be heard.”

“What?”

“I will explain more to you soon after, I vow it.”

Thus the meeting began. In all truthfulness, you were only able to understand the bare minimum: In a few days’ time, Marcus would lead five-thousand men into Rome to overtake the thrones of the empire, and thus destroy them, restoring the Roman Republic.

When the conversation turned to you, you were merely referred to as an informant who had the closest relationship to the emperor.

It still perplexed you as to why you needed to remain anonymous; there was an excellent chance they would know you as ‘Geta’s Favorite Whore’.

Yet, you did your best to inform the counsel of a plan you had simply created on the spot (they did not need to know the latter part of it).

You would gain more favor from the public, while at the same time, putting Geta’s worries to rest about any uprising or dislike from the majority of the empire.

How you would do that…it was fortunate that they didn’t ask you to give specifics.

Once the meeting ended, you were taken back up from the secret passage, yet instead of going back to the chambers, you felt Lucilla take your hand and lead you down another path.

You couldn’t even get a sound out before she said. “It is alright; he knows I want to speak with you in private. We will not take long.”

She led you up into the bath area of the house. It was quite beautiful; the tub wasn’t made of porphyry, but that did not make it any less exquisite. There was something about it being lesser of the baths you’ve had in the palace. It wasn’t entirely reminiscent of the one you had at home…

But you felt safer.

Lucilla had been gentle in pulling off your robes, and never once did it feel wrong. You were a woman and so was she. She never pulled or scratched your skin, and you knew that she only felt sorrow when she gazed upon the bruises and wounds you had received from Geta.

“How long have you been at the palace?” She questioned as she carded herbs through your hair.

You glanced at her, sighing. “I’ve stopped counting…months, I know.”

“Were you forced to leave any family? Brothers, sisters, children?”

“No. My mother died birthing me, and my father was taken half a year ago to an ailment emperor Caracalla also suffers from.”

She hummed. “Have you ever been in love?”

You laughed the most genuine laugh ever since you became a slave. “Why on earth would you ask that?!”

“I am merely curious!” She teased. “You are truly beautiful, and there is no doubt that men would throw themselves off cliffs for you; but it matters most of who you would choose.”

Her question scraped your mind. There had been times you were fond of, even lusted over, men both your age and older…but love? The only one you experienced would be storge; perhaps philia…but eros? Agape?

“I don’t think I have been.” You answered. “Have you?”

She nodded, a forlorn look in her eyes, but smile upon her mouth. “Twice.”

“Twice?” You couldn’t help the nervous giggle that left your throat. “It can happen twice?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“And who have you willingly fell captive to?”

“Marcus is the most recent, though there are days I do not understand what he sees in me. Then…the father of my child.”

Lucilla poured water upon your head to wash out the soap in your hair, and a silence fell over both of you. One that was broken when you spoke a name.

“Lucius…”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He-he had gone missing all those years ago, hadn’t he?”

“He had.” She ran the bar of soap over the top half of your body. “I believe he must’ve been around your age when he ran away.”

“And there hasn’t been any sign of him since?”

“No.” She answered right away.

You curled into yourself. “I apologize if I upset you my lady-.”

“-No. I…I love talking about him.”

You managed a gentle smile to soothe her. “What was he like?”

“Headstrong.” She chuckled. “Wanted to become a gladiator more than anything in the world. Yet, he was gentle, and kind as well. He…I believe he would’ve adored you.”

You shook your head. “Maybe when we were children, but I don’t think so now.”

“It’s hard to judge.”

Whilst the air between you turned into more intimate topics, the question that had weighed on your mind was brought to light. “Why did you not allow me to speak or show my face tonight?”

Lucilla stopped her ministrations. You looked up at her, and the look she wore bore an exhaustion that you had felt recently.

“I know too well the cruelties of men.” She began softly. “My brother had done everything to keep me from ever resisting him…he had done everything. I had only wished for someone to be there with me at every moment when I faced his abuse.”

Words; simple words that meant everything to you was what made you weep.

There was no warning at all. Once she was finished, tears sprang to your eyes, and you felt your sinus clog up. Even as you tried to tear yourself away from her comfort, she merely wrapped her arms around you in an embrace from a mother you had never felt.

“I don’t want to go back.” You begged. “Please don’t let me.”

She kissed your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“No!” You sobbed. “I-I don’t want to! Please, please, you can’t make me. I-I-I-!”

Lucilla shushed you, rocking you back and forth. “Do not weep. You will be free beside all of Rome, and the past months of your life will be nothing more than a distant, horrible dream.”

You pulled away just enough to look at her. “You-you must promise me something.”

“My child-.”

“-Promise me and I shall help you overthrow them until my last dying breath!”

She stared for a moment before nodding. “Yes. What is it?”

Your lip quivered. “When I die, you must bind my legs with chains or ropes when you bury me. I have,” you whimpered. “I have been told of men who dig up the bodies of girls and…”

Lucilla kissed your forehead before holding you once more. “I vow I will honor your wishes.”

All you could do was believe her.

There were more times than not the Emperor Geta would talk about filling you with his seed as he bedded you. You never were able to discern if he was serious about wanting to give you a child (they would be his, not yours).

It all became too real when you didn’t bleed that month.

Yet, you also did not feel sick in the morning, and your breasts hadn’t swelled. You still had urinated on wheat seeds for several weeks, but they had not sprouted.

You weren’t with child…yet there was nothing stopping you from convincing Rome you were. It would certainly be a risk; for there was no telling how Geta would react. But that was a risk you were willing to take.

Once a week, you were allowed to go outside the palace during the day, and you had chosen then to venture out into the numerous markets. It was nice to speak with the merchants you knew from your childhood. Some were elders who would watch over you when your father was busy, others were friends who had grown up with you.

“Now what would a little empress want with commoner’s food?” A man’s low timbre voice asked behind you.

Turning your head, you saw Macrinus standing before you with a curious grin. You mirrored it. “That’s not an appropriate title for me.”

“Ah, you are correct.” He nodded. “My apologies, ‘Lady with The Golden Mouth’. Or do you prefer ‘Rome’s Delight?’.”

“You may call me whatever you wish if you’d like.” You forced a laugh and turned back to the merchant you had known since you were a babe. “I’ll take a sack of wheat and small bag of garlic, Gaius.”

“Of course, lady Julia.”

Not even a childhood friend could say your real name. A tight smile formed upon your lips when he turned to sack the wheat before you. Macrinus spoke again.

“You still didn’t answer me about why you’re exactly here.”

“I am not an empress.��� You turned to him. “I am not a queen from another realm, I am not even a lady. I am a lowly whore that was fortunate enough to be chosen by the emperor. I like to keep my own schedule from before, so I am aloud to bake my own bread.”

He hummed. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Gaius handed you the sack of wheat and garlic, and you held out three silver coins. He shook his head. “No, just a copper-.”

“-Please.” Was all you said.

He hesitated, then took them from you, smiling. “May Fortuna rain a thousand blessings upon your head.”

“And unto you as well.” You curtsied and turned on your heel to leave.

Macrinus walked beside you. “How generous you are.”

“I try to be.” You decided to change the topic. “You are in charge of Hanno, are you not?”

“I certainly am, why do you ask?”

“Just out of interest.” You shrugged. “There is talk of him being similar to the one Maximus from years ago. Many admire him already and it has only been a day.”

Macrinus laughed. “It is my duty to entertain the people. I noticed though that you are more prudish of the games.”

“I must admit, I am not used to the violence.”

“A sheltered girl?”

“Ashamedly so.”

“There is no shame at all. So, it is the Numidian that has captured your affection?” He teased. “How scandalous for the young empress to fall for a slave.”

You chuckled. “Nothing of the sort, I just find him amusing.”

“Oh, I am more than happy to let you see him alone if you ever so desire. You don’t need to wander upon him at another party.”

Your carefree air fell once he asked that. “I don’t know what you-.”

“-It’s alright.” He interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious, I am only concerned for your own safety.”

You stood taller, a shy smile upon your lips. “I am capable of taking care of myself, sir.”

“Of course my lady, why else would you be out here in the streets of commoners without a chaperone?”

Purposefully, you turned onto one of the crowded piazzas where the music and laughter was the loudest. You grinned from ear to ear.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you volunteered yourself to keep me safe.”

He laughed. “No, just wanted to say hello.”

You didn’t have time to respond, as one of the performers had recognized you. Ah, a girl that lived in the house across from yours when you were children! You still remembered her name, and after you passed your belongings to Macrinus, she pulled you into the circle of performers, dancing with you.

You laughed the most you had that year; in fact, you swore your bruised your ribs just from the sheer joy you felt. You don’t know how long you danced and sang with those who were your neighbors and friends, but just as you felt your feet begin to give out, Macrinus put his hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you should go back to the palace and rest.”

Nodding, you said farewell to your companions and took the bag of wheat and garlic back from him. “You are right, thank you so much.”

He grinned. “Let me escort you back.”

“No,” you walked ahead of him. “I wish not to bother you anymore. Good day, Macrinus!”

You lost yourself in the crowd, purposefully making it harder for him to follow. Once you were in the palace, you rushed into the kitchen, holding the sack of wheat behind your back, you greeted the cooks and snuck into the small pantry. You set the sack down on a shelf and pocketed two single reeds, along with an onion.

That night, Geta had called you into his chambers. Before going, you had cut the onion and brought it to hover around your eyes. You were crying by the time you were at his door. Immediately, he took notice of your reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, only crying more. It was less because of the onion now, and just everything coming down crashing onto your shoulders once more. Geta pulled you into his chambers by your shoulders, sitting you on the bed.

“Tell me now what is bothering you.” He commanded.

You shook your head. “I-I can’t-.”

“-Now, Julia!”

Taking a deep breath, you reached into the pocket of your breast, taking out the two reeds and setting it in his hand. He furrowed his brows.

“I do not understand.”

You took a deep breath. “The handmaids have given me wheat and barley seeds ever since I have arrived. If they grow, then that means…that means I am with child.”

The look on his face spoke it all. You were certain you were dead.

“I-I didn’t know how you would feel, and-and so I-.”

He crushed you in an embrace, attaching his lips to your jaw. “Jupiter has blessed me.”

It was the first time you felt happiness in his presence. Of course, not because of him, but still joy. You returned his embrace, sighing in relief. “You are happy?”

“Happy?” He pulled away, holding your face in his hands. “There is nothing in this world that could sadden me right now. I will have an heir.”

As long as it was a boy (if it were real at all).

You feigned your smile and leaned into his touch. “I am fortunate to give you one.”

“And I am most fortunate to have you.” He laid down and brought you with him.

Perhaps, in another life, he was kind to you and didn’t only value you until you gave him a child. Perhaps you would be in love with him, and he would make you empress

But you weren’t fortunate to be born into that fantasy.

You wished nothing more than to sit with Marcus and Lucilla as you made your way into the emperor’s booth of the Colosseum. The three of you had managed to speak to one another, but only about meaningless things. Still, you just enjoyed their company.

 It would be more exciting that day. A naval battle, the Naumachia. The arena was filled with water and sea creatures you could never even possibly imagine. It was a wonder in and of itself how all the ships managed to fit themselves in the arena.

“Caracalla,” you said to the brother beside you as you were about to take your seat. He looked up upon hearing his name. You handed him the bag filled with garlic. “I finally found some for you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “And you say that if I mix this with myrrh, I shall be cured?”

“It should treat the lesions on your skin.” You corrected. “This is what I did for my father.”

He died of the same ailment, but Caracalla didn’t ask; simply smiled. “Thank you, dear sister.”

You nodded, sitting down on the arm of Geta’s throne that would have put you in the middle of him and his brother. He wrapped his arm around you.

“You’ve been far kinder these days.” Geta pointed out.

“Perhaps that means I’ll be the most agreeable mother.” You jested, kissing his cheek.

He smirked, and as the man on the far end of the Colosseum began to announce the games, Geta stood up and rose his grail.

“I would like to propose a toast!” He yelled. The crowd fell silent, and you felt your skin crawl away from you. Geta continued. “To the health of wives and to mothers. Especially to my lover, Julia, who carries my son the moment as we speak!"

An eruption of applause and cheers filled the stadium. You blushed upon the praise, and genuinely wanted to hide yourself from the gaze of everyone; especially the ones closest to you. You could feel both Marcus and Lucilla’s eyes on you, attempting to hide their shock and perhaps horror. The worst was that of Macrinus.

He knew. Just from the look of him (or perhaps it was your own paranoia), but he had to have known from the moment you bought the wheat.

Still, they all applauded, and ones the excitement of your supposed pregnancy died down, the enthusiasm for the battle was born.

It was perhaps the one event you could stomach. While you could still clearly see men dying, it wasn’t as horribly bloody as the prior. Were you becoming numb to the cruelty of these games because you were pretending…or were you letting the game invade your head?

As several ships collided within the growing chaos, men would either die from their fellow man or would simply fall into the water and be devoured by beasts you had never seen until then. Your eyes had been following Hanno the whole time, whether purposefully or not.

Words could not describe the terror that had been brought upon you as you saw him aim his crossbow at the booth you sat in.

You did not think the arrow would pierce you, but it did. It longed into your right shoulder, and a cry you had no idea you were capable of making tore through your throat.

Tears blinded your vision, but the screams from the whole arena deafened your ears you could not even hear what Geta was saying to you.

You could barely make out Marcus’ in front of you as he snapped the body of the arrow and then hoisted you into his arms. You’d never been carried like this as a woman; only as a child by your father.

The heat of Rome felt hotter that day as the pain in your shoulder only grew tighter and tighter as if your skin was going to stretch away from you. The next thing you knew, you were laid upon a cold, solid surface, and sound returned to your ears.

“It’s alright, you’re alright.” Geta shushed, brushing your hair. “You’ll be okay.”

Someone stuck their fingers into your wounded shoulder, and you could only scream. A tender hand laid itself on your cheek, and just from touch alone, you knew it was Lucilla.

“Do not touch her!” Geta hissed, swatting her away.

“No, no!” You whined, reaching out and holding onto her.

Lucilla dropped to her knees, kissing every part of skin that was available, mumbling. “I know, I know. This too shall pass, you are stronger than you believe, my dear.”

Then, just like that, you felt the arrowhead leave your body. The pain was still excruciating beyond belief, but all that was left was for your arm to be wrapped in cloth, and to rest.

One of the guards in charge of the gladiators approached you when you were finally able to sit up.

“My lady,” he began. “did you happen to get a look at the man who shot you?”

“She’s only starting to recover!” Geta snapped. “How dare you. She carries my child, and-!”

“-It’s alright, Geta.” You soothed.

You could’ve done it. Told him with full confidence that it was Hanno. There would have been your chance of power; to kill the man who had nearly killed you.

Yet…you were vindictive and wanted to do it yourself.

“I have no memory.” You told him. “It happened so fast.”

How horrible it is that Geta would stop forcing you to pleasure him only when you were supposedly with his child and injured. You assumed that if you were suffering from only one of those ailments, than he still would’ve held you down and used you.

You thought nothing else would happen that night. You would simply speak to one another, pretending to be completely enamored by his existence, and then lie down to sleep.

Of course, that would be too peaceful.

You were awoken gently, to your surprise, by Geta shaking you. Humming, you rubbed your eyes. “What is it?”

“The general and his whore wife.” He gritted his teeth. “They planned to kill us.”

You shot right up, forgetting about your injured shoulder, and let out a cry. Geta helped you stand, and that was when you saw Caracalla standing before you, his monkey companion Dundus perching upon his shoulder.

“How-how do we know?” You stammered, not having to feign your terror.

Neither of them answered, and the three of you were led out into the throne room. There before you in their night clothes just as you were, Lucilla and Marcus.

Geta approached them first, seething. “The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you. All this you have forfeited by your treachery. Thanks to the civic virtue of men like Macrinus and Thraex your insurrection has been revealed-.”

 “-Torture me if you want,” Marcus shook his head. “but please, don’t lecture me.”

Geta’s face turned almost as red as his hair. “Your name and deeds will be forgotten, lost to history! You are damned to oblivion!”

“You damn me?” He laughed. “I don’t care. Everything is forgotten in time. Empires fall… and so do Emperors.”

Caracalla rose from his seat, reaching for his brother’s sword. “Why wait? I'll gut him right now!”

Geta grabbed onto him. “Brother! Brother! His death must be public.”

“Public, yes. Hang his entrails from the city gates!” He pointed at Lucilla. “Crucify her!”

“No!”

All eyes fell on you after your outburst. Even you froze in place, feeling bile begin to rise up within you. Geta let go of Caracalla. “‘No?’ You say? What would you have me do then?”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard to speak as tears began to fall. You held your stomach. “Crucifixion is…it’s…”

His face dropped into a scowl. “You aren’t saying I should let them live, are you?”

“No-!”

“-Then which is it?!”

Your voice fell silent as your chest constricted, and you could barely breathe. Your mouth would move, but nothing came out; not even strangled noises of desperation.

“If I may, your grace,” Macrinus stepped forward. “I believe she means to bring equal punishments to the crimes committed.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “I do not know what you speak of.”

“Please, let the rest of them out of the room so I might explain more clearly.’

He considered his words, then turned to his guards. “The criminals to the dungeons, my brother to his chambers, and my love-.”

“-I wish to be alone tonight.” You stated.

The emperor scoffed. “What?”

“The babe.” You began. “I-I have helped many women deliver their children, and what has always caused an early birth is stress. I-I cannot take any-anymore of it, or I fear…”

Finally, he took in the sight of your fearful face. Sighing heavily, he said. “Put my lady in her chambers for tonight.”

“Thank you.” You kissed his hand.

You were led into your own chambers, and once the door was shut, you threw yourself onto your bed and wept. You wept until you were wailing into the night, you wept until your eyes were as red as the sun in the morning, you wept until it hurt to continue to do so…

It was unknown how long you had cried, but the opening of your bedroom door is what alarmed you. Snapping your head over in the direction, you were shocked to see Macrinus.

“The general and his wife’s fate has been decided.” He stated.

You held a pillow to your chest, rubbing your reddened nose. “And what is it?”

“The emperor has chosen to let the gods decide, and Acacius will fight against Hanno tomorrow in the arena.”

“You mean you convinced him to.” You glared.

Macrinus approached you. “May I try some of the bread you have baked, my lady?”

You held no confusion when he asked you that. Surprise, yes; but you knew what he asked. You took a deep breath. “I believe I don’t understand.”

“The wheat you bought only days ago.” He reminded. “You said you would bake your own bread. Surely, you didn’t use it as false proof of you carrying the emperor’s heir?”

You didn’t dare look at him. Even when he laid his hand on our back, rubbing circles over your nightdress. “I wish to help you, my child. You must be willing to help me first.”

That was why he also didn’t alert Geta of your betrayal…unless, he had no idea of your alliance with Marcus and Lucilla.

“What is it that you want?” You asked.

“All in time.” He soothed. “I wish to give you the privilege to speak to someone.”

You finally looked at him, your eyes wide. “General Acacius?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I am unable to escort you to the dungeons below the palace. Yet, I can take you to the pit of gladiators.”

“It is easier for you to take me out of the palace than below it?”

“Take you to the man who nearly overthrew the emperors?” He chuckled bitterly. “Not possible. I cannot grant you the gift to say goodbye, but I can allow you to bargain for his life.”

You blinked. “Hanno?”

“Correct.”

“How can I leave the palace at this hour, after what has just happened?”

“You underestimate the silence men will take when it is weighed in gold.” He tutted. “I can only give you ten minutes with him. Will you go or not?”

You were forced to decide quickly…This could be your chance. He had nearly took your life the other day, and the pain in your shoulder was just a growing reminder of that. If he were dead…there was no way you could overtake him.

Yet, you learned that, in a world of men, you didn’t have to be stronger than them: Only smarter, and faster.

“I will go.”

You had hidden a kitchen knife under your bed the moment you had your own chambers. Geta had gifted you several colorful ribbons he loved to see you wear in your hair. He perhaps did not expect you to tie one around your waist under your gown, securing the knife.

Macrinus led you swiftly from the palace to the gladiator pit, which was thankfully not a long walk. You ignored the stares and intrigued calls from the other men as you treaded the halls. You were stopped by a door. Macrinus didn’t even warn Hanno who stood shirtless in his cell, only opened the door and let you enter.

“I’ll rattle the door when it’s time.” That was all he said and left.

Hanno didn’t even seem alarmed. “And what is Rome’s Delight doing here?”

Your blood boiled upon seeing him, yet you remained calm. “I have come to make a bargain; a plea.”

That was when the puzzlement appeared on his face. “And what is that?”

“The man you will fight tomorrow, you must spare him.”

“Why should I?”

Your grief and despair had made itself known to everyone around you for the past few days; yet, in that cell, only with Hanno as your witness, did he see your rage.

“He is the one who saved my life when you meant to steal it!”

The only change you saw in him was his jaw clenching. Other than that, nothing. “The general?”

You only nodded.

He sighed, brushing past you and shaking the door. “Macrinus!”

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“I will not have you waste your breath on that man.”

“I will give you anything you desire.”

Hanno faced you. “Then you can deliver his head on a platter for me.”

You gawked as he walked away.  “What have I ever done to you?”

“What?”

“Do you truly hate me that much?!” You turned back to him, getting closer. “Kill the man that is the reason I am still here?”

The last thing you thought you would hear left his lips: A laugh. No, not a genuine one. One that you yourself have released on multiple occasions when you have been in disbelief.

“You truly believe everything that happens is because of you?” He taunted. “Has the emperor been filling your mind with so many delusions of grandeur, you can no longer conceive a world where you are not the center of it?”

“Is it so difficult for you to answer my question because you are a fool, or because you wish to not admit it?” You hardened your tone.

“What is your question, my empress?”

“Why did you shoot me?!”

“The arrow was not meant for you!”

You felt your shoulders drop upon the confession. Your aggression ceased only because of your bewilderment.

“Then who?” You asked.

He backed away. “The general you so wish to defend.”

“Whatever it is that he has done, it can be solved with-.”

“-He murdered my wife.”

Hanno said it so easily. No pain, no rage, nothing. It was a fact, and that was what he wanted you to know.

And how stupid you had been. No one in all of Rome was pure of heart; including Marcus. He was a war general; how could you think he wouldn’t have committed sins against the innocent?

“Why so silent, my lady?” He asked. “Are you in disbelief that he has enemies?”

“I didn’t know that.” You admitted.

“That the general is too a monster, or that he killed the only thing in my life worth living for?”

“And that is your desire?” You prodded. “Take his life so that he may die knowing his wife will be ravaged by wolves?”

When he charged at you, you barely had enough time to reach in your dress and unsheathe your knife. Hanno stopped himself just in time for the tip to kiss his chest. Nothing to cause any more harm than a scratch.

Even though you were not the one hurt, you breathed as if you were. He stared down at you as you shrunk under his gaze, and the two of you remained frozen. That is, until he grabbed both your wrists, and rose them above your head.

“I am only merciful because the general still breathes.” He spoke so only you could hear. “If your bastard of a lover had put him to the sword this night you chose to visit me, you would be dead before you could scream.”

Your nose was an inch from his, that was how close he stood to you. His breath caressed your skin, and you turned away in disgust. He let go of your empty wrist, yet still held the one with the dagger.

“Did you believe you could kill me tonight?” He asked, yet you said nothing. Hanno then brought the dagger to his breastbone, angling it upward. “Do not stab head on; stab up.”

Silence and an iron gaze was your reply.

He then hovered it to the pulse point of his neck. “If you want a quick death, right here; with a thinner blade, preferably.”

Then, he placed the tip just above his brow. “If you need information out of a rat, and you have the stomach to do so, drag it across. It will make the mightiest of men cry like a child in the night.”

“You are clever and a skilled warrior,” you finally said. “what is it you want me to tell you?”

“That you will leave it up to the gods and to me if your general lives or not.”

“But I cannot.” You dared to dig the blade just a little into his skin, and his breath hitched. “My desire for him to live is stronger than for you to die.”

Hanno finally let go of your wrist, and you immediately retracted the knife from his brow. “So do you wish to try again to kill me?”

“I wish for you to show mercy.”

“Mercy?” He questioned. “Mercy upon the man who pillaged my home and killed my wife? Mercy for the one who has made me a slave?”

“I too am a slave and-.”

“-And?!” He cried. “And there is nothing! You are draped in silks whilst I in chains and are bathed in clear waters while I in blood, yet you say we are the same?!”

You swallowed your anger, knowing it would bring you nowhere. “You entertain the horrid creatures of Rome; I am forced to pleasure the emperor. We perform differently, but we are still slaves.”

“You are with child.” He stated. “Will that child also be a slave though the emperor is quick to claim it is his heir?”

The crackling of the torches in the room only added to the fire th in your soul. If not contained correctly, you would surely burn and take him with you.

 “A child…yes.” You relaxed, folding your hands. “A child that I could command to be Geta’s. Perhaps, if I wanted to have the brothers slaughter one another, I could say it belongs to Caracalla. Or, if I despised you anymore than I do at this moment…I could say that it is yours.”

Hanno’s eyes dropped in recognition, saying softly. “You carry an empty womb.”

You nodded. “It is the same as your honor.”

Moments later, the door behind you rattled, and Macrinus spoke even when you didn’t. “The time is up, my little empress.”

You bowed your head to Hanno, curtsying. “Sleep well.”

He said nothing in reply, and you turned on our heel, leaving the cell. You pulled your hood back over your head as Macrinus led you through the darkened streets of the city.

“Did you get what you came for?” He asked.

“No.” Was your immediate reply. “And I do not know truly what I wanted.”

The day was as blistering hot as the others, yet the stare Lucilla gave you as she was being led into the emperor’s viewing box made your blood turn to ice. There was not a hint of wrath upon her face; there was nothing at all.

She already looked as if her soul had been stolen.

“How does your shoulder fair, dear sister?” Caracalla brushed his fingers over your arm.

A watery smile was upon your lips like second nature. “It still aches, but it heals, thank the gods. And your overall health?”

He sighed. “I do not know how much longer I have upon this earth.”

“Do not say such things.” You squeeze his hands. “If the gods will it, you shall live for another hundred years.”

He kissed your hands that held his. “I hope so, my love.”

Your grin fell upon the title, and Geta immediately sat you down on the chair behind him that was beside Lucilla’s. He gave an apologetic look.

“He only grows more confused by the day.” He caressed your cheek. “You are well?”

You were far from it, but you could not say that. “Your son feels better now.”

Geta smiled, lowering his head down to kiss your womb. “He will need all his strength.”

The announcer on the other side of the arena yelled to gain everyone’s attention. “From the vanquished city of Numidia, the victor of three contests in the Colosseum, the barbarian Hanno!”

You watched as he ran up from the pit, sword in hand. On the other side, you watched at they brought in Marcus. You could barely look at his already beaten figure. The announcer continued. “Will challenge General Marcus Acacius for his treason against the lives of the Emperors and the enemy of the State!”

The two approached one another on the sandy field. Even from where you sat, so close to them, you could barely make out the look in their eyes. You assumed their was hatred, but your own eyes must have deceived you, because you swore you saw a hint of regret within Marcus’ own gaze.

You blinked and the battle between the two had begun. It was a different level of insanity at how they fought. Marcus was decades older than Hanno, and yet, there were moments where the Numidian had to keep up with him.

Than, the roles would be reversed.

Blood stained the floor of the Colosseum as they fought. Then, when all feel silent between them, and Marcus could barely stand, his lips moved as he spoke to Hanno, then raised his hand.

He yielded.

The patrons of the arena began to mumble amongst themselves, growing louder and louder. Geta rose to his feet. “Romans! What say you?”

In an instant, choruses begging him to be spared overpowered the few that wanted him to be killed. Geta shut his eyes, raising his hand, and they were silenced.

“The gods have rendered their judgement.”

His thumb pointed downward, and the crowd erupted in dissent. Your heart was forcing itself to beat out of your chest as you could only stare at the sight of Hanno glaring down at the general before him.

He tossed his sword to the side.

You hadn’t even noticed Caracalla stood until you heard him yell. “Kill him, kill him!” Like an angered child.

“Is this how Rome treats its heroes?!” Hanno shouted, staring at the audience all around him and pointing his sword. “If his life has no value, what are yours worth?”

Geta stepped up onto the barrier, balancing between the viewing box and a fifteen-foot drop into the arena. He held his arms out to his side, his sleeves dropping to the ground, and his pale face was red. “The gods have spoken! Kill him!”

From all sides of the stadium, hundreds of archers aimed their bows at the center of the battleground. Yet, none fired. Caracalla jeered.

“In the name of Jupiter, kill him!”

The arrows were released, and they screamed like none other as they fired into the center. As they pierced Marcus’ body, you did not know you had been wailing in fright until Geta had slapped you.

“You mewling cunt!” He cursed. “You wish to weep over the man who nearly had you killed?”

Blood fell upon your tongue from your bruised lip, and you did not dare to look at him nor Lucilla.

“Death will be too good for you!” She cried with all of her heart.

The noise from the crowd died as if the people themselves had done so. Then, just like the confused murmurs when Marcus yielded, the same began to grow and grow into a call of rebellion.

It was all in your ears. Lucilla’s weeping, the curses from the crowd, the panic of the emperors…but you stood absolutely still.

With hooded eyes, they drifted up to see that Geta stood just on the edge of the barrier, his back turned to you. Your gaze fell to the ground below you, and it was only then you realized how high up you truly were.

You do not know who or what willed you to, but you then looked at Hanno still the center, covered in blood. As if he knew what you would do, he shook his head.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Macrinus grabbed your arm roughly when you took one step towards Geta.

The emperors turned to him upon his appearance, and Macrinus loosened his grip on you before saying. “For our safety’s sake, we should leave.”

“Yes.” Geta stepped down, wrapping his arms around you. “We should.”

You never knew there was a safe house in Rome until you were forced into it. Perhaps that was the reason for it being a safe house, so that no one knew of it. Yet, apparently, almost all of the roman citizens found it that night. Or, they were simply rioting wherever a free patch of land was.

The cries played in your ears despite them being behind heavy walls of the safe house, and you dared not to peek out the windows as the several fires would temporarily blind you. In the house was you, Macrinus, Dondus (Caracalla’s pet monkey, although he’d call him his other half), and the twin emperors.

“How is the babe?” Geta asked as you sat with your head hanging low.

Of course he would ask that. You didn’t look at him. “He is in fear for his life.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “but there-.”

“-But what?” You finally looked at him, hissing. “Chaos has fallen upon the city because of your actions.”

“There was nothing else to do.” Geta glared at you. “He and his bitch were plotting to kill us! If I’d let him live-.”

“-Don’t you hear them?” Caracalla cried out from his seat, holding Dondus. “They’re calling for our heads! She is right, you brought this upon us!”

Geta placed his hands on him. “Calm yourself, brother. The Praetorians will put down this crowd like they have others-.” The money upon Caracalla’s shoulder chirped out in anxiousness from the people outside. “Keep the ape still!”

“Beware of how you speak to Dondus!” His brother berated.

“Perhaps,” Macrinus finally intervened. “you should take Dondus and Julia elsewhere. The noise outside is too much for them; you should comfort one another someplace quieter.”

Caracalla nodded, gathering up Dondus and moving to help you stand, but Macrinus reached his hand out first. You took it, and as you stood, he said into your ear.

“I will find you on the right side of the hall.”

This was not the time nor place for riddles, but you could not react in any sort of way. You looped our arm through Caracalla’s and walked out of the room, hoping to find somewhere quieter.

“I’m afraid,” you confided in him, truthfully.

“I am as well.” Was all he could say.

You stopped in the middle of the hall once he found an open door. “I…I need time with my own thoughts. Please.”

He nodded, cradling Dondus closer to his chest before entering the room, shutting the door tightly. Within the minute, you watched as Macrinus approached you from the other side of the hall.

You spat. “What do you want?”

“I know I stole your moment of vengeance, and for that, I apologize.” He stood before you. “But let me make it up to you.”

“How could you possibly?”

From his cloak, he brandished a knife, holding the handle out to you. You took it without hesitation, yet question was still upon your face. “I do it myself?”

“You could,” he shrugged. “or, you could have his own brother do so.”

“Caracalla? He is senile.”

“Then I have a proposition for you.” Macrinus pointed to the door Caracalla was behind. “Convince him that Geta will destroy all of you if he is not disposed of. Convince him that, as the new emperor of Rome, he will need more trusting subjects. I shall be his second in command, and you shall be free.”

You furrowed your brow. “Who shall be first?”

“The monkey.” He smirked. “Do you believe he would put me above him?”

It sounded so simple; too simple. Yet, as the crowd began to die down, and you could no longer hear their protests from outside, the quietness brought to you what you had always known: You would never be your own person again so long as Geta breathed.

You held the dagger to your heart, saluting him. “I shall do my duty.”

He nodded. “May the gods be with you when you do, Brutus.”

An insult to most, and while it shocked you, you took it in stride as you stood outside the door. You made yourself look smaller, more afraid, and hid the dagger within your cloak as you entered the room.

There, sitting upon the floor, was Caracalla and Dondus. Like a scared child, he held the monkey close to him, grooming one another as if it was the only thing to bring comfort.

“Caracalla?” You whispered.

He stared up at you, and you noticed he had been crying. Immediately, you sat before him, bringing him into your arms.

“Nothing was ever mine.” He cried, embracing you. “Everything was ‘ours’, always. Even in the womb, he gripped the umbilicus in his tiny fist to deprive me of air.”

“He did?”

“Certainly, one cannot forget.”

You pulled away only to hold his face tenderly in your hands. “You must listen to me, for what I tell you is dire. Your brother wishes to blame you before the Senate; for what happened, for the chaos in the streets-.”

“-That is a lie!” He tore himself from you. “I didn’t do it!”

“I know that, but they don’t. No testimony is more damning than that of a brother against another.”

“He lies! He always lies!” He sobbed.

“He’s very persuasive.”

“What will they do to me?”

“I don’t dare imagine, but…gods above, I don’t wish to know what they will do to Dondus.”

His jaw quivered with the rest of his body. “What-what shall we do?"

You sighed. “I…I have a proposition, but it is most outrageous and-.”

“-Julia,” he begged, grabbing your hands. “dear, sweet sister, please tell me.”

Breath shuttering, you reached into your cloak and held the blade out to him. “Slay your brother tonight. You shall be crowned the sole emperor of Rome when morning comes, and Dondus, the child I carry, and I will be safe.'

He took it, yet still had that look of terror. “This…It has always been he who led everything. I do not know who to trust or-or who to command.”

“Then let me-.” You stopped yourself, eyeing the monkey that lay at his legs. You held your hand out to him, and Dondus climbed into your arms. “Let us help you. Claim Dondus as your first in command, and I your second.”

You wished the same as Lucilla and Marcus; to have Rome be a free empire. Yet, you would have to free Lucilla yourself before that happened.

Caracalla nodded yet said. “You-you are with child. You will become delirious as time progresses.”

And he was the epitome of having a clear mind.

“I will need a third.” He settled.

You shook your head. “That has never been done before-.”

“-I will be emperor!” He screamed. “If it is to be done, it shall be done!”

Raising your hands in surrender, you pleaded. “It shall, it shall! For a third…Macrinus. He has been loyal and informed us of the general’s betrayal.”

“Yes, yes Macrinus will do.” He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours. It didn’t even truly feel like a kiss, yet it shocked you nonetheless. “You are the wisest woman I have ever met, dear sister.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. With that, he stood on his feet and left the room. IT would have been easy to stay in there and wait for his return…

Yet, you wanted to be the last thing Emperor Geta saw.

No fear toiled within your body as you approached the throne room, not even when you hear the cries that you knew belonged to Geta. You walked through the doors, watching as Geta held his hands up in fear, begging his brother to spare his life as he was forced onto his knees, trying to stop the knife in Caracalla’s hand.

“I love you!” Geta squealed, staring up at him through tears “You are my brother, I love you!”

You moved to stand behind the younger twin, glaring at the man before you. Geta’s eyes dropped in relief.

“My love, my love, please help me!”

There was nothing uncertain about how you grabbed Caracalla’s hand that held the dagger. With eyes unblinking, you guided the blade into Geta’s throat, pushing it further and further as blood drained from his mouth.

The emperor was dead, and you would sleep like a child once more that night.

There was something inside of you when you awoke that morning. Not the child you had lied to all of Rome about; it felt like a parasite. You threw up an hour after you woke up, but when you checked with the healers, they said that there was nothing ailing you.

Was it…guilt? No, no it could not be.

Was it possible to feel guilt for the act of killing someone, but not feeling it for who was killed?

You had no time to debate these issues as if you were a philosopher.

Dressed in your finest silks, you made way into the room where the hundreds of senators met, carrying a hefty sack beside you. You sat in a chair next to Macrinus.

“You have done well.” He said softly.

You smiled. “Only because of you.”

Your gaze turned to Caracalla, who sat in one of the two thrones that were there for him and Geta. He looked like the worst you had ever seen him be. A blood rag had been placed at his feet.

“Now I am the only one.” He began, voice low. “I was the true us, and he was the false me. We were always ‘we,’ all our lives, but now I am only I, me, alone.”

The senators look at one another in silent terror. The only ones to not feel fear were you and Macrinus.

Caracalla continued. “My hand held the blade, but my father’s hand guided mine. I was the puppet, dancing on his string. As Emperor, I have convened the Senate to appoint my First Consul and bestow upon him the power to administer the military and civic functions of the Empire.”

He tossed his hand to the second thrown, revealing his fury companion. “I name Citizen Dondus!”

Where the senators were beyond terrified, they were now confused. Macrinus was the first to rise, applauding. “Hail Dondus!”

You repeated his sentiment, clapping with vigor. Caracalla and the rest of the mortified senators applauded all repeating ‘Hail Dondus!’.

Once the excitement died down, Caracalla resumed. “As is custom, I am naming a Second Consul to advise the First and to assure his integrity. Though you will find that Dondus is incorruptible! As Second Consul, I name…”

Macrinus took one step forward.

“The mother of the future heir to the throne, Julia!”

All eyes fell upon you, standing taller than you ever had done in your life. How strange it was though, that the same reaction to a monkey being assigned first in command, was to you, a woman.

Utter silence, until Caracalla applauded enthusiastically. Like sheep, the senators followed; all but Macrinus.

“Yet, as mother to the heir,” the emperor said after finishing. “it is apparent she shall be incompetent for majority of her advising. So, for the first time in the history of Rome, I name Citizen Macrinus as my third!”

Even with this third twist in a counsel, the senators seemed more so relieved at the decision. Macrinus did not smile or even acknowledge the honor, simply stared ahead. Caracalla gathered Dondus in his arms.

“There will be a triumphal parade to celebrate. There will be games and mass executions! Long live the Empire!”

“Long live the Emperor!” You and the senators all yelled.

The Emperor Caracalla carried the First Consul Dondus sweepingly out of the hall, to the Senate’s terrified silence. You picked up the sack that had been beside you this whole time, then making your way to the center of the room.

You opened the sack, and out fell Geta’s decapitated head. The Senate gasped and gagged at the sight of the former emperor’s head. You almost felt sorry for the horror they felt that whole time. Yet, there horror is what would bring you fortune.

“This is what befell your emperor.” You pointed to the head at your feet. “He was slaughtered by the one who shared a womb with him. Tell me, senators, is this who we must trust to maintain the greatness of the Roman Empire?”

They did not glance at one another in uncertainty; no, no they were listening to you.

You continued, your heart stammering. “I am not the one who will stand with you for the rest of my days, it is the son I carry within me. And if it is my son who will become emperor, then there must still be an empire for him once he is born. Hysteria has poisoned the streets for decades now, it is time to put an end to it!”

Murmurs and nods of approval began to echo amongst the counsel.

“Every single one of Rome’s children matters; from the beggars to the emperor himself. If one falls, so shall the rest of the Empire. I have walked beside the lay people of the city, and they feel betrayed by the former emperor for the murder of their beloved general. To right this wrong, I call for the release of Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.”

Not one of the hundreds of senators made a sound. Deep within you, you knew that there wouldn’t be much rejoicing over Lucilla’s freedom, but you still had to try.

“The people adored her for far longer than they adored the general!” You pleaded. “If we kill her only for the amusement of the elites, then the children of Rome-!”

 “-Shall live.”

You turned to Macrinus, who finally stepped all the way forward.

“Forgive me,” He bowed mockingly. “my lady, but for a woman complimented to have a golden mouth, you have no idea what you are saying.”

A few of the senators chuckled.

“You wish to free the woman who mean to have you, and the emperors killed?” He questioned.

You refuted. “I wish to show the world that Rome is capable of forgiveness.”

“A desire so foolish, only the emperor’s favorite whore could have it.”

“Another word of slander out of your mouth, and I will have your tongue removed!” You stood toe-to-toe with him.

He grinned like the devil, and just from your outburst alone, no matter how warranted it had been, he had you. Macrinus stepped away, looking around at the senators.

“Me thinks the little girl believes she is Marcus Aurelius himself born again.” He straightened his tone. “What say you, senators? All in favor of releasing a traitor to the Empire, speak.”

Not one of them said ‘aye’. If you weren’t under a sheer amount of duress, you would’ve seen perhaps a few faces of inner turmoil, debating on calling for Lucilla’s release.

Yet, no one said a word because they shared the one thing that will contribute to the death of humanity: Cowardice.

Macrinus tutted. “Now, dear Julia and I happen to have, through good fortune and not a little skill, the remaining emperor’s ear. We can speak reason in it and tame the madness in the street. Yet, I will leave the domestic work of calming the emperor to his second in command. As for myself, to restore order to Rome, I will need power over the affairs of the state. Including command of the Praetorian Guard. The decision is in your hands. Ballot or hand?”

One hand rose immediately. Another followed, then ten, then thirty, and then, all of them. He provided no evidence for his cause…yet there was a unanimous decision.

Macrinus held his hand out to you, and you could only stare up at him in question.

“I believe we shall take the seats that are rightfully ours.” He said lowly.

Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, and he led you up the stairs to sit upon the chair that belonged to Geta, while he took Caracalla’s.

This would be the first and the last time a woman ever sat upon the emperor’s throne.

After being embarrassed that morning, you paced around your chambers. Perhaps you could have found Caracalla and gave him the same reasonings the senate did not listen to. Perhaps he could somehow see to the logic that would be in setting Lucilla free.

No, of course he wouldn’t. Even if his mind was sound, he still knew she was apart of the coup to try and have him dethroned; killed in his mind’s eye.

As your mind grew heavy with existential possibilities towards the future, the door to your chambers opened. Stopping where you stood, you watched as Macrinus entered.

“Now, try to make me understand this," he shook his head. "I let you have your vengeance on the man who used you as a slave, I promised you freedom, and yet you wasted it.”

You clenched your jaw. "How dare you-."

“-How dare I?” He tensed his voice. “How dare I keep silent about your lie? How dare I give you the privilege to take your revenge? I have saved you more than you believe I have harmed you, lady Julia."

The name had always bothered you, but with one emperor dead and the other incapacitated, you assumed it would stop.

Now, it only enraged you more; or perhaps that was just because it was Macrinus saying it.

You glared. “It was your own mistake to believe you were the only one who desired power.”

He took a deep breath, then moving to sit on your bed. “Sit beside me, Rome’s Delight; I have a story to tell you.”

“I am not a child, you may tell me in short.”

“You are not the only slave wishing to be free.” He pulled back the collar of his clothing, revealing a branded ‘M.A’ “You are lucky enough to not carry your master’s mark, but were a slave nonetheless. Marcus Aurelius spoke of peace while still using violence against those who served him.”

Swallowing your pride thickly, you said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have learned now, that is all that matters.”

“But Lucilla will still be dead.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She wanted the emperors to be gone as much as you, but she will-."

“-Her father enslaved me.”

“Her father is dead; and if taking his empire wasn’t enough, than killing his last child will satisfy you?"

Macrinus clutched your arm, fingers tightening with every word. “I would be careful with how you speak to me. I wish to offer you one last ounce of kindness before I regret it. Now tell me, Brutus, will you accept me as Rome’s new emperor?”

You had all the right to say it was Caracalla, but you thought better of it. So, with the softening of your entire person, you nodded. “I accept you.”

He dropped your arm. “I’ll let you say goodbye this time.”

Macrinus led you down into the dungeons of the palace, and he was right; somehow it was more heavily guarded than the gladiator pit. Even when the worst of the worst prisoners sneered or jeered at you, your sorrow and anger could not stir your fear.

The door to one of the cells was open, and you ran in just as Lucilla turned to see you.

“Five minutes.” Was all Macrinus said before locking the door and leaving.

You embraced one another when he left. Neither of you said anything, just clung to each other as if the world itself would tear you apart.

“Forgive me, mother Lucilla.” You choked up.

Lucilla pulled away, taking your face into her hands. “Sweet child, there is nothing to forgive.”

“I failed you.” The tears finally came. “I was right there in the senate’s room, I-I told them the chaos that would befell Rome if-.”

“-You were in the senate’s room?” She sounded as if her breath had been stolen.

You nodded. “Yes, but they wouldn’t listen!”

“My dear girl,” she smiled. “if you were able to even get half a sentence in, than they listened! My father but sixteen years ago said that it was a shame I had been born a women, for I would have been a magnificent emperor. Yet, here you stand; you who had been once a slave, rose above into having a sear in the senate council.”

Still, no matter how much pride she held, your own shame outweighed it. “I still have failed you.”

“I have already accepted my fate.” She whispered. “I must take care of those who matter to me before I leave this earth.”

“Do not say such things!” You cried. “I’ll still find a way to save you.”

“Hanno is my son.”

You expected her to deny your attempts at rescuing her, you even expected her to coddle you, curse you…but this?

“What?” You uttered.

“He is Lucius Verus Aurulius,” she said gently. “second of his name, but the first son of Maximus Decimus Meridius.”

“The-the gladiator?” Was somehow the first question you asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Lucius didn’t run away, I sent him. With him as heir to the empire, I know many would not rest until he was dead. How was he to fight for a claim he knew nothing about? Now, he is here; and I am no longer frightened of dying.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to!”

She shushed you, combing her fingers through your hair. “I can speak to you until the earth is burnt by the sun of how I have made peace, but I know that will not work. So, I have two final requests for you.”

“Anything.”

Lucilla walked to the small desk she had in her cell, then picking up a scroll loosely wrapped in twine. She handed it to you. “My first is to give this to my son before tomorrow. It…explains a great deal of things I do not have the time to say to him.”

You took it, holding it to your heart. “And the second?”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around you and kissing the side of your head. “To take care of him as I intend him to take care of you.”

It was not the first time that day your eyes had grown. “He despises me.”

“If the gods are merciful, then I truly believe you will both come to see eye to eye as the only two who remain.”

“I nearly killed him.” You admitted. “The night before his duel with Acacius, I brought a knife with me and stabbed him; well…not enough to harm him.”

Lucilla shook her head, giggling. “He will need someone who disagrees with him.”

You found yourself laughing along with her, even through your sobs. She pulled away from you, wiping your tears. “He is a good man. He may deny it but believe me when I tell you.”

“I trust you.” You nodded.

She took a deep breath. “I will be with you, even when I’m gone.”

“I…I know.”

“Now go before I beg you to stay.”

You forced yourself away from her before you could change your mind. You could not even look at her as you left her cell and went up the hall. Just in time, you remembered to hide the scroll as Macrinus approached you.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Sighing, you said. “She’s…inconsolable. I couldn’t bear another moment with her.”

Macrinus nodded. “You should rest for the remainder of the day. It has been quite exhausting.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “it certainly has.”

It was the first time that night you were forced to sneak out of the palace on your own. Fortunately, you remembered the route you took to the Gladiator pit and managed to dodge any of the guards on patrol that night.

The pit proved to be more difficult as the overseers of it had less space to watch over, yet you still somehow managed to maneuver them.

Perhaps the gods were on your side.

“Hanno.” You whispered once you found his cell.

The man turned over his shoulder once he heard your voice and approached with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

You wasted no time, holding out the scroll. “Your mother told me to give you this.”

He paused for only half a beat. “My mother died when-.”

“-Your mother is Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.” You whispered fiercely. “And you are Lucius, the lost son.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he reached down to the latch of the door, and cracked it opened. “Get inside.”

Though you wished to, you didn’t question how he had unlocked it and only walked in. He shut the door tightly, then took the scroll from you. You stood there as he unraveled it to read. His face changed every few seconds, ranging from distress to downright confusion. When he was finished, he looked at you.

“She gave this to you?” You nodded. “Why?”

“I was allowed to say goodbye to her.”

“From Macrinus?” He tested. “Was this before or after you attempted to steal his power?”

“I was cruel to you.” You admitted. “Even after discovering Acacius had pillaged your home and murdered your wife, I expected you to show mercy. I am astounded you did, but as I look back, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. My desire for the general to live extends to your mother; if not more. She did not give up my name at any moment despite the fact I too was apart of the coup to try and overthrow the emperors. I cannot simply let her die.”

Lucius stared at you, his gaze intimidating yet at ease. He approached you. “You wish to save her life?”

“More than anything.”

“It is a rumor that Macrinus was the one to puppeteer Caracalla in slaying his brother. But…it wasn’t him, was it?”

Breathing deeply, you looked at the floor. “It was I.”

“Look at me.” He commanded softly, and you did. “Would you kill again if it meant protecting her?”

Your mind said ‘yes’ without a moment’s hesitation, but your heart only sunk into your stomach at the thought. It must have been apparent on your face, for he said.

“There is no shame if you are unable to.”

“I will be with him in the emperor’s box.” You said, determination in your eyes. “I will simply need you to buy me time in the arena. It shall be done.”

Lucius nodded, and released along breath before saying. "I treated you harshly. I...I don't believe I would have survived what you have been put through."

You picked at your fingers. "I think you would have."

"No." He solidified. "I wouldn't."

A silence fell between the two of you. There wasn't a hint of discomfort; as if, for the first time, you felt seen.

“You never told me your name.” Lucius uttered.

You pressed your lips together, shrugging. “It was never important.”

“It has been,” he said. “and it is now. You know my true name, if I am to understand you as how my mother wishes I do, then I must know yours.”

Your mouth parted to speak the first syllable, but even that had felt foreign. You instead lied. “I do not remember it.”

As he looked at you, the steely gaze you always knew began to disappear. “You must remember how it sounded from your mother’s mouth.”

“She died before she could hold me.”

“Then your father.” He walked closer to you, yet you felt no fear. “It does not matter if he was wretched or kind, he spoke your name and your name alone. What did it sound like?”

Like he loved you. Even when he was cross, he never raised his voice. You hated more than ever how tears started to build within your eyes.

“Geta had beaten me until I could no longer use it.” you confessed. “It will feel like poison upon my lips.”

“Then whisper it to me so you will scarcely have to move them.”

You had been lain down on a bed and had every bit of a man touch and invade your body. Even before the emperor, you had lain with people in the past of your choosing…

But none of that amounted to the intimacy you felt in that cell as Lucius stood nearly chest-to-chest with you, hovering his ear over your mouth as you finally (finally) spoke your name aloud.

If the heat of his body lingering over yours did not set your entire being aflame, it was the breath he released once he said.

“It’s a kind name.”

It was all too much for you, so you pulled away from him, drying your eyes. “I…I will pray for your safety.”

He outheld his hand to you. “Strength and honor.”

A saying you had overheard people use as they entered the stadium. You shook his hand. “Strength and honor.”

You didn’t expect to be in the parade Caracalla raved about the day prior. Yet, there you were, draped in the finest and most colorful silks with jewelry in your hair. Inside your sleeve, you’d hidden the same kitchen knife you attempted to stab Lucius with.

You were sat beside Caracalla, who had Dundus upon his shoulder, and who had only grown more delusional since the day prior.

“Where is my brother?” He pulled on your sleeve like a child as you were escorted from the float and into the Colosseum.

A watery smiled pulled upon your lips, and you soothed him. “He feels most unwell today.”

“He should be here.” He sulked as you walked. “He would be happy for me.”

“And he is.” You lied. “You will see him again shortly.”

That managed to ease him, and you both were seated in the emperor’s box with Macrinus. It didn’t escape your vision how hundreds of Praetorians also circled the entire arena. As the time to the match grew closer, you did your best to calm your own nerves. This would be for the good of Rome. Once it was done, you would be able to rest easily again.

It was then you watched as, on one side of the Colosseum, a wagon was rolled out into the center of it. Tied to a pole, dressed up as if she were Venus herself, was Lucilla. All that attempt at soothing yourself was gone once you saw her eyes.

“Must we kill Lucilla?” Caracalla questioned.

You couldn’t even snidely repeat his question to Macrinus you were in such a state of anxiety. Macrinus responded.

“Until she is dead, you will never know peace.”

Thus, the event commenced. The announcer himself even sounded guilt-ridden as he spoke of the crimes Lucilla was being charged with. Treason, betrayal, all of it only anguished the spectators even more to see her being prepared for execution.

“Let it not be said that the Emperor is not merciful!” He yelled. “The queen will be granted a champion to defend her!”

Out from the other side of the arena came Lucius. Half of the Praetorians held their weapons to the man, while the other half faced the civilians as if expecting them to riot. Once again, at the sight of the scene before them, it would not surprise you.

You had been taught one a many myths by your father, mainly belonging to the Greeks. You were Cassandra; blessed by Apollo to speak of prophecies but cursed to not be believed.

When it seemed that hope was gone…Lucius rose his sword, and hundreds of gladiators sprinted from all sides.

The crowd and Caracalla were in an uproar at the excitement. Pandemonium ensued as the gladiators began to climb the barriers and civilians were attempting to enter the arena. The sound of arrows screaming entered your ears; so much so you could not hear what Macrinus was saying to another man, and why Caracalla was screaming.

You simply blinked, and once your eyes were open, you watched as Macrinus dove a needle into the side of Caracalla’s neck, killing him.

Only a gasp tore through your throat, having no ability to scream. Your body soon found reason to move, and you rose to your feet, remembering your duty. Macrinus had acquired a crossbow, aiming it towards Lucilla and Lucius now at the center of the arena.

You rose the knife from your sleeve, charging towards the man. The arrow was fired, and you leapt upon his shoulders.

He moved wildly, trying to force you off of him. You made attempt to slash his throat, but it made contact with his eye instead.

Still…he overpowered you. Flipping you over him, you dropped down into the arena, your head colliding with the ground.

The sky was orange above you when you opened your eyes. Your head had never felt so awful before, and you were surprised you could even sit up. All around you, bodies littered the Colosseum floor. If there was not blood laid before you, there were swords and shields.

Your eyes drifted to the center, and now sunken to the floor, was Lucilla on her wagon. You forced yourself to stand and walk towards her.

When you could see the arrow sticking in her chest, you began to run.

Climbing atop the wagon, you untied the ropes around her hurriedly.

“Mother,” you begged. “mother, can you hear me?”

“I am still here, sweet child.” She whispered weakly.

“Save your energy now.” You managed to free her, and then pulled her to your lap.

“I will be seeing my beloveds now.” She smiled.

“No,” you hissed. “you are going to live.”

She reassured. “It is alright. I have fulfilled everything that was asked of me, and what I wished for.”

“Mother-!”

“-You will look after him, won’t you?”

You wanted to cry; you wished that sadness was the first thing you felt. But no, it was anger. Still, you nodded. “I will, but you will be there to make sure he takes care of me too!”

“He shall.” Was all she said.

“You will live, just please stop talking.”

“I love you.”

“Lucilla…” Your voice broke.

“Tell Lucius I would do this all again for him.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Lucilla rose her hand to your cheek, brushing it tenderly one last time.

Her eyes were held open as she went limp in your arms. You closed her eyelids, knowing her gaze would haunt you.

You did not move for the first hour, nor did you cry out in despair. It was when the sun was completely gone, and you tore yourself away from her corpse did you collapse into a fit of sobs.

The ugliest sounds were released from your mouth as you could barely stand. You do not know how long you cried, but when you could finally move again, you crawled to the nearest sword, and trailed it behind you before climbing back up onto the wagon.

You tied the rope from her body around her legs, and brought her back into your lap, sword in hand.

There was no rest for you that night. You would nearly drift off into sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give in until you could bury her properly. You also couldn’t bring yourself to bury her at the same time.

When you had lost time altogether, and the sky was purple as twilight broke, a gentle hand shook you.

Raising the sword in surprise, you felt your body relax once you saw Lucius. You should have asked how he survived, what happened to Macrinus, anything else…but all you said was.

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.”

He nodded, tears threatening to fall as he gazed upon his dead mother. He took a deep breath. “May I take her?”

You handed her to him, and he took her into his arms. You scooted off the wagon, your eyes reddened and exhausted.

“Where,” you cleared your throat. “Where should she be buried?”

“I…” He heaved. “I know where my father’s grave is.”

“Okay.” Was all you managed.

And you walked by his side, neither of you knowing what your fate would befall in Rome.

Yet…once both slaves, you were now free.

[basil--and--sage]

Some of my other headcanons got some attention, so I thought I'd post some for the rest of the company, starting with Óin:

(Uncle Thorin, part 1, part 2), (Dwalin)

Óin is unflappable, always and in every situation. The house is on fire, somebody is in labour and Orcs are attacking, all at the same time? Óin will sigh, get up from his armchair and deal with it

he has the driest sense of humour

he's painfully forthright, but never cruel

he doesn't talk much and likes being alone

he's deaf in one ear since Azanulbizar and started to use an ear trumpet for his good ear after getting hard of hearing as he aged

he's dedicated to his craft (=asexual)

he takes his profession as a healer and midwife very serious and there is nothing you cannot tell him. He won't judge you and do everthing in his power to help you with your ailments/problems

he's also incredibly discreet, in his profession and in private. Tell Óin your secret and nobody will ever hear about it

he lives with Glóin and his family, though he usually hides away in his room to brood over literature or work on his droughts and medicines

he's very knowledgeable about herbs and healing plants

he is well known for his competencies. If things go south, you get Óin, be it a complicated breech birth or a severe infection. Óin will come and if you are too poor to pay him, you will figure something out together after the patient is better. (he is known to be charitable, one of the reasons he lives with Glóin instead of having his own home)

he's a great dancer

he delivered Fíli, Kíli and Gimli

he doesn't enjoy fighting. He does it, if it's necessary, and he's good at it, but he rather leaves it to the warriors of the family, like his cousin Dwalin

his main reason for joining the quest is to keep his foolish relatives alive

there are rumours that he dropped Gimli during childbirth, but these are nothing but slander! Don't listen to anybody spreading this nonsense, especially not his dimwit of a brother - !!!

(feel free to send requests for other The Hobbit characters or maybe certain situations [we already have uncle Thorin, maybe Thorin in other circumstances etc]. I can't promise I will come up with something, but I will try!)

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn found a stack of neatly laid gowns waiting for her when she returned from the library. He’d lounged in a chair like a bored, spoiled prince, watching her catalog the paltry books Kai had arranged for her to have access to.

Looking at her list, Gwyn found nothing of use. Most of it centered around female troubles—childbirth, raising children, and ailments that seemed to afflict females only. Did the royals at Montessere genuinely think she’d come all this way to learn about midwifery? Gwyn had to reign in her frustration. This was not her area of study and though she’d always wanted children, she doubted she’d ever have them.

Azriel didn’t return with her, nor did he bother to explain where he was going. He merely left her with a babysitter. One of his shadows, perched on her shoulder with what she assumed was curiosity.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked it, watching as it slithered toward the neatly made bed to examine the dresses. No doubt these were a gift from the prince and not wearing one would be a snub, but…

Gwyn took a breath. “Out there,” she said, pointing toward the common room she and Azriel shared. She didn’t know if he could see through his shadows, and didn’t need the added embarrassment of him knowing what she looked like naked. And she certainly didn’t want him to see her in the dress if she choose to risk Kai’s wrath and not wear it.

His shadow balked, but eventually slithered away, pausing just outside the doorframe. Gwyn slammed it shut, though she felt a small prick of guilt. Enough that she murmured, “It’s not personal.”

After all—it wasn’t the shadows fault it was attached to Azriel. 

Carefully, Gwyn pulled her sisters evoking stone from where it hid in her pocket and let it lay on the bed beside the gowns. They were all cut in a similar style, with the laced, corset bodice and the straps that would hold it to her shoulders white delicate fabric hung against the tops of her arms. It would create a very specific shape—one she wasn’t certain she had. 

And Kai had sent nearly every color. No pink, she assumed because of her red hair, but greens and purples and blues. Darker, warmer colors that would compliment her fair skin. The fact he’d put any thought into it at all was confusing. Generous and unwanted, all at once. Gwyn didn’t know what to make of it and wished Nesta was with her to explain his intentions. 

Maybe she’d write a letter.

Gwyn shimmied into the amethyst dress, sucking in a breath before doing her laces. She didn’t pull them tight, and had to admit it was comfortable enough. There were pockets, which meant she wouldn’t be without her sister, which was the one thing she found intolerable. Turning to the mirror, Gwyn was surprised to find she did have a shape, even if the gown created it for her. Her body curved gently, while the corseted top gently pushed the tops of her breasts upwards toward her collarbone. A necklace would have drawn anyones attention to them immediately, which convinced Gwyn not to wear one.

She opened the door, tugging at her skirt for the shadow to look, which she spoke the language Azriel had mastered if only to get its genuine opinion. If shadows even cared about such things. 

“It’s…a lot,” she finally managed, embarrassed by how she looked and how she felt about her appearance. She shouldn’t care…but turning back to her reflection, she thought she looked good. Pretty, even, which she wasn’t supposed to care about. All Gwyn was supposed to worry about was serving the mother goddess, though she’d known plenty of more established priestesses who’d primped and preened—who’d cared for their appearance and how they presented themselves to the people they were attracted to. 

Catrin cared, a traitorous voice reminded her. 

A knock on the door pulled Gwyn from her thoughts. The shadow, once ribboning around her neck, vanished so quickly she thought she’d imagined its presence. Gwyn lunged for her sisters evoking stone, sliding into her pocket as the person on the other end entered her bedroom without waiting for her to respond. She met Kai in the lounge, wishing Azriel was with her.

Was Kai supposed to be here? Smiling, he said, “Oh good. You found my gift.”

Gwyn tugged at the sleeve tapered against her hand, wishing suddenly she’d snubbed him. “It was incredibly generous for—”

“It was nothing,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. He kept his eyes on her face, extending a pale, slim hand toward her. Gwyn didn’t want to take it, if only because everything about him felt too possessive. 

She did, though, because this was a job and Gwyn wasn’t going to prove anyone right about her. Not Merril.

Not Azriel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling her hand into the crook of his elbow. She was, and there seemed no danger in admitting as much.

“Yes. Starving, actually.”

He smiled again—a genuine thing that made him appear alive and handsome. There was color to his cheeks and a vibrancy to his eyes that made her wonder why he hadn’t snagged some pretty female for a wife. What was he waiting on, she wondered? 

“You’ll get to meet most of the court and their wives,” he said, taking for granted that his court was made up entirely of males. It was that simple sentence that grounded Gwyn. He was handsome and not for her. A prince's attention was flattering, certainly, if it amounted to anything more than being kind to foreigners at court. But she could see what a future with him would entail—a quiet consort, pretty and sweet as she raised his young without much more. And while Gwyn certainly didn’t begrudge anyone who wanted that future, it was not one she hoped for herself.

“Will your…friend…be joining us?” he continued, oblivious to the slant of her thought. It was amusing to hear Azriel called her friend. She doubted he’d consider himself that, though there was also a question within that question.

What is he to you?

She was content not to answer it. Let them imagine whatever scenario they liked. “I would imagine he is.”

“Are there…many…like him, where you come from?”

Rhysand hadn’t said she couldn’t share that information, so Gwyn nodded. “Yes. Wings are fairly common in Prythian.”

“Among High Fae?” Kai questioned in a tone she didn’t quite care for. Because, no, they weren’t, and surely Kai would have known that. She wondered why it mattered, though it very obviously did.

“I guess we’re not as concerned about those distinctions in Prythian,” Gwyn lied. She knew some courts, like Night and Dawn and Summer were more progressive, but others very clearly looked down on people like Azriel, who were Illyrian and not High Fae. She’d heard from Nesta how Eris Vanserra often referred to Cassian as a low-born brute. 

Is that what Kai thought of Azriel? If he did, he had enough tact not to say so. “Interesting,” was what he said instead. “It seems we have a lot to learn from each other.”

“You met Morrigan, didn’t you?” she blurted out without thinking.

A shadow passed over Kai’s face, twisting his features for only a moment. Gone was the lovely, moon-lit prince, replaced with someone ugly and cold and cruel. She blinked and he was back, smiling tightly. “In Vallahan, yes. She was…quite the character. The High Lord’s cousin, is she not?”

“She is,” Gwyn confirmed.

Kai only grunted, leading Gwyn toward a pair of carved, double doors. Gwyn’s steps slowed at the sight of a figure cut in the wood, sword raised while someone just beneath raised up their hand in a futile attempt to stop the coming blow. It was a gruesome picture made worse by Kai’s grin.

“A long dead ancestor of mine,” he said, reaching for the handle of the door. “Evocative, isn’t it?”

Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that, and was spared by a cold, deep voice replying, “He lost his own head, didn’t he?”

They whipped around to find Azriel, wings spread casually behind his body as he approached. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that told Gwyn whatever he’d been up to had been successful. That look shifted as he took her in, eyes sliding down her body and too late, she’d forgotten she’d put on a Montessere style dress. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her face, his expression utterly blank. Beside Gwyn, Kai ground his teeth loudly.

“He did.”

“To Vallahan, if I remember correctly?” Azriel needled, coming closer. He turned those brutal, piercing eyes wholly on Kai who seemed to shrink beneath it. She hadn’t realize how much taller Azriel was until that moment, but Kai seemed to come to his knees when Azriel pulled himself up to his full height. Between the two, there was no comparison—Azriel could have wiped Kai from the face of the world with one backhanded blow. 

Why did that thought please her so much? 

“Is there a reason you’re bringing this up?” Kai demanded, placing his hand over Gwyn’s. Azriel caught it, eyes sharpening with lethal interest. She wanted to pull away and didn’t, too afraid she’d signal the wrong thing. They weren’t interested in her at all—this was all posturing, all pure male bullshit. 

Azriel shook his head, causing a lock of his thick, dark to fall against his eyes. “Just want to make sure Gwyn understands the geo-politics of this place.”

“I doubt she needs to concern herself with such things,” Kai dismissed, all but withering beneath Azriel’s cruel smile.

“Oh? Do you doubt that? I don’t.”

Gwyn cleared her throat. She didn’t know how she’d ever explain this moment to Rhysand. She had the worst feeling if Azriel couldn’t reign it in, they’d be facing a different sort of war. “I’m still hungry,” she announced in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had arisen between Kai and Azriel. “If you two are done, I think I’d like to go eat.”

And then, for good measure, she slipped her arm from Kai’s grip. Azriel exhaled, inclining his head toward the doors. Turning back, Gwyn found herself far more settled knowing that the king about to kill that man had died in the same brutal fashion.

And inwardly, she cursed Azriel for being the one to help soothe her. He hadn’t know, had he? She stepped through the doors first, feeling him just at her back. Kai, thwarted and clearly irritated, made his way ahead toward a high table at the far end of the dark, cavernous room. Huge chandeliers made of sparkling crystal lit the space, throwing long shadows over the onyx marble floors. As usual, the tall windows were covered by thick, velvet curtains that made the air seem to shimmer with heat. Azriel skimmed his hands against her spine, lowering his head.

“What are you wearing?” he whispered, leading her toward a small, round table at the furthest end of the room. As usual, everyone did a double take as they passed, stunned by his perfect features. It was starting to annoy her. 

“A gift,” she said, swallowing her fear that he hated it and was about to say so. Gwyn yanked out her chair, sitting before he could do something stupid like pull it out. Behind her, Gwyn could feel Kai’s eyes on her back though she didn’t dare turn around.

Azriel sat across from her, wincing at the hard back against his wings. “I thought it might be Nestas,” was all he said in response. That was a best case scenario, she decided. He hadn’t complemented her, at least. She didn’t know what she would have done if he did.

“I found the library in the city,” he added after a moment, nodding his head when a servant slithered by to place plates and metal covered dishes before them. The chatter in the room obscured his voice well enough, though Gwyn wasn’t stupid enough to think they weren’t being watched by more than just the royal family.

“I’ll wait for Kai to show me,” she said dismissively, too focused on cataloging the courtiers around them to notice the male in front of her.

She’d irritated him. “Great. I’ll let Rhysand know I’m hardly needed here. Perhaps he’ll reassign me,” Azriel bit out, pushing away from the table abruptly.

Gwyn huffed out a sigh. “Sit back down.”

But he didn’t. Azriel turned, his face all but carved from stone. She wanted to go after him—to explain more than just her dismissive remark, but everything. As if that would matter, she reminded herself bitterly. As if him knowing everything would change the way he looked at her, the way he acted. So Gwyn let him go, resigning herself to eating in silence.

And though a multitude of wives came to talk with her the moment Azriel vanished, Gwyn’s thoughts were stuck on Azriel.

Moreso when she returned to their shared room, joined by that same friendly shadow he had trailing her. Floating around her bed doing little joyful backflips, Gwyn found a rich azure bound book waiting for her.

Montessere, Vallahan, and Rask: A History of Treatsies from Gwydion to Armand. 

Gwyn sighed.

He���d gifted her a book.

AZRIEL:

Azriel had found the perfect spot to hide among the disconcerting Monstesseran palace. That spire, stretching to a steepled point high above the sky, obscured him from anyone who might peer upward and gave him a perfect view of the city and beyond. Behind him lay the sea and his home that he was missing more by the second, and in front of him was the city of Vignon, which had nothing on Velaris. Azriel had been taken aback by the suffering he’d stumbled upon and a king who’d shut himself away, sealing himself from his people and their problems. There was great wealth alongside the poverty, without much in between, and in between it all lay the library of Montessere. It was paltry in comparison to home, and laughable to someone like Gwyn, and still it housed far more than the embarrassment she’d been provided in the palace.

And she didn’t even want to see it without the prying eyes of the prince. That bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Knees drawn to his chest, Azriel forced himself to take a cool breath of night air, calming his raging temper. If he went back to their shared room, he was certain he’d find himself in another heated exchange with the priestess.

She was under his skin and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. That stupid dress and her stupid hand on his stupid arm…Azriel wanted to roar at the prince and then shake her. Didn’t she have any sense? Couldn’t she see what he wanted from her? He was too possessive already, his scent wrapped around her like thorny vines. She was going to give him the wrong idea and they’d have an international incident on their hands.

It wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. And he was too worked up, too emotional. It wasn’t even Gwyn’s fault—not really. He was still tangled up about the revelation about Mor and Elain’s anger and the constant threat of Lucien and…and that godsdamned dress. 

Azriel rose to his feet, about to leap off and take to the skies when a whisper from his shadows stopped him.

She’s in bed reading the book.

How did the Queen get up here without wings? 

Azriel halted, turning in a half circle. This was the spire the king and Kai had said the queen had leapt from…but how? He’d flown, courtesy of the wings at his back, but the stairs only trailed up to a balcony far, far below him. Would that jump kill an immortal? He jumped, his wings ballooning in the wind to guide him lower and lower, until he was level with that balcony. It was still a far jump…but Azriel didn’t think it was fatal.

Maybe for a human, with their fragile bones and useless blood. But for someone as long-lived as a faerie queen? No, he decided. She’d need to go to the very top and let the wind take her to the sharp rocks against the shore line, where the obsidian would have cut through her spine and stopped her heart. 

“Find out what the courtiers know,” Azriel murmured against the wind, letting his shadows pick up the command. He very much doubted the well-bred Montesseran courtiers were going to engage in a little gossip with the likes of him. As Azriel made his way to the ground, and with great hatred, he tried to think of what Vanserra would do.

Seduce them, the stupid bastard.

He was shit at pillow talk. He didn’t want to know their thoughts, only what their pussy tasted like. And the only words he wanted to hear were more and please and oh gods, untie me. 

Still, he didn’t wholly dismiss it. If all else failed, Azriel would pick out the most miserable looking wife and work a little charm and then…well. He’d figured it out, he reasoned. If Vanserra could manage it, how difficult could it be? 

Azriel returned to the room he was sharing with Gwyn to find her door closed tight. Fine, he thought, though the sight of it irked him. Two of his shadows slithered off, leaving him with just two more of the five he had in totality. He could feel them watching, wishing they, too, could join in whatever frivolity was happening in Gwyn’s room.

“Go,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do, besides. His shadows zipped off, vanishing beneath the crack in Gwyn’s door.

“Oh, hello,” he heard her say with clear and obvious delight. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand to know where her enthusiasm for him was, but Azriel leashed it. He didn’t need another reminder that she hated the mere sight of him. Hated him so much that she couldn’t be bothered to tell him what he’d done to make her stop training with him. 

Azriel sighed, closing his door silently. He’d wracked his brain before and wouldn’t let it torment him tonight. Not when he needed to forget everything stressing him out so he could focus on doing his job and not getting himself killed. Azriel stripped off his leathers, rolling his shoulders when the heavy, thick armor was off his tight skin. He needed a bath more than anything, but it would have to wait—at least, for now. Azriel unlaced his boots before undoing his pants with a frustrated grunt. Why was he wearing battle-ready clothing in a place where no one seemed to be armed? He’d switch to a tunic which would be a little more functional and far easier to get at the thing he wanted, which so happened to be his cock. 

Azriel flopped back on the bed with a groan, stretching his tired, aching muscles. It felt like a week had passed when in reality, it had been only one day. What would he be like in a week? He’d need a vacation—something Rhys had been begging him to take for centuries. He’d never wanted one before Gwyn.

He wanted one now, though he had no fucking idea where he’d go. Somewhere quiet and cold—maybe high up in the mountains in Dawn, where he could have some peace…and would be bored within a day. He’d be crawling back to Rhys before nightfall, begging for something to do.

Or slithering back into the River House so he could listen to Nyx’s raucous giggling and Feyre’s shrieks as she chased him around. That, he decided, was music to his ears. Azriel had never had much to say and didn’t like to draw attention to himself, but he liked being in the presence of others who did talk—who smiled and laughed and made him feel like he was part of something special. 

He missed home, he decided, one hand on his thigh. It seemed wrong to touch himself while he was missing his friends and family so Azriel took a breath and cleared his head of thoughts of home and tried to focus on the last person who touched him because they wanted him. He hadn’t known her name, of course. He so rarely did. But she’d been beautiful and attentive and after the revelation with Mor, Azriel had needed someone to take his mind off his self-loathing and misery.

How had he missed something that, in retrospect, felt obvious? Settling himself against soft pillows, his wings draped on either side of him, Azriel reached for his flaccid cock and gave it a stroke. His body responded immediately, rising with each new pump against the memory of that female on her knees, licking up the length of his cock. He could still recall his hand fisted in her hair coppery brown hair, could remember the way her teal eyes—

“Fuck,” he growled. Her hair had been blonde, her eyes green. “Focus.”

But his body wasn’t inclined to listen because right then, all Azriel could feel were Gwyn small, lithe hands pressed against his lower stomach as she demanded he move. His hips bucked off the bed, attempting to comply with the request. He could smell her, too—viola and cinnamon, eyes on her mouth and— “No,” he hissed, refusing to complicate this mission by stroking himself to Gwyn’s beautiful face. She hated him. He wasn’t terribly fond of her, either. 

But Azriel was strung tight now, pleasure coiling hotly through his stomach before settling in his balls as release had begun to gather. His hand never stopped even when his mind tried to put him back where he’d started—with the female that lacked a gag reflex. She’d swallowed him root to tip, tears blurring in teal eyes and—

“Oh for Cauldron’s sake!” he exploded, yanking his hand away from his throbbing cock. What was wrong with him? 

Azriel took a breath, skin humming for him to continue. Stop thinking about Gwyn. He hadn’t thought of her in months. He didn’t need to think of her now, either. Resettling himself and closing his eyes, Azriel fisted his cock once more. And for a moment, it worked. He was focused on the memory of that female’s tongue gliding over the head of his cock, building higher and higher until—

“Azriel? Are you awake?” Gwyns soft voice on the other end of the door called, breathless and sweet.

Azriel came all over his hand, his mind emptied of everything else. He couldn’t say a word, so focused on not letting her hear him finish to the sound of his name on her lips. 

Oh, gods, he thought to himself. He couldn’t stop, his release coating his thigh and hands as wave after wave of pleasure made his body shake. It felt as though she’d pulled it out of him like a fish on a hook and the violence both overwhelmed and excited him.

He couldn’t remember the last time touching himself had felt that good.

Maybe it never had. 

Composing himself as he came down, Azriel cleared his throat. “Yes,” he called, praying she didn’t open the door as he hastily swung his body off the bed to retreat into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you put a dagger under my pillow?”

Guilt pricked at his chest. “Yes.”

He should have asked.

There was a soft pause, and then— “Thank you.”

Azriel exhaled, ignoring the kernel of pleasure that bloomed in his gut. Turning on the tap, to wash away his sins, Azriel called back, “It was nothing.”

He didn’t go out into the common area. She’d scent his arousal and know what he’d been doing—and though she wouldn’t know she was the subject of his fantasies, Azriel would. So he turned the bath on until the water was scalding, well aware Gwyn had padded away, though this time he didn’t hear her door click shut.

And Azriel decided that was progress.

[comparativetarot]

The Empress. Art by Rubi Do Trinh, from the Star of Inanna Tarot.

𒁹𒁹𒁹 The Empress 𒀭𒂼 For this card we decided to depict the Mother Goddess Ki/Ninhursag. Ki is the Earth Mother Goddess ands chief consort of An and Ninhuršag was the Mountain Mother Goddess. According to Samuel Kramer, Ki and Ninhursag are one and the same, and we are inclined to agree. In the Sumerian Creation myth, An and Ki were born of Nammu, the Primordial Mother Goddess. They then came together and Enlil was born. Enlil then separates Ki from An, and they unite. Their union leads to the creation of life on Earth as we know it. Ninhursag has more written about her, but she is also conflated with the Earth and as a Mother Goddess. She has further associations with Mountains and is often depicted with an Omega-like symbol in her hair. Another part of the creation story is found in the myth “Enki and Ninhursag” where they work together to bring abundance, fertility and the possibility of agriculture to the world. She is an essential part of the process of creating humans along with the God Enki. We can see the associations between the archetype of this card and Ki/Ninhursag. Fertility, growth, transformation, creation, pregnancy, childbirth, and nurturing are all aspects that are present in both. However, lesser talked about aspects of this archetype are enforcer of order, & protective yet healing and compassionate. In the Myth “Enki and Ninmah(an epithet)”, when working together to create humans, Enki ends up hurling insults at her creations. In response, she uses her creative powers to punish him, afflicting him with ailments and illnesses only she can heal. She then reveals her compassionate side and ends up healing him. The Cuneiform is: 𒀭 Dingir + 𒂼 ama = Divine Mother

[articskele]

Incoherent thoughts about a Bloodborne-inspired Lorax AU that I am by no means confident in but HEAR ME OUT

Ok so instead of using the blood of the Great Ones, it’s the sap of ancient trees, discovered in a sinkhole below the city when people were investigating a problem in the sewers!

But as the night goes on, the trees start to grow in and around the rest of the city, spreading through whatever means necessary in an attempt to keep itself alive.

Something something the hubris of man harvesting the lifeblood of the world and using it for their own gain, and how that’s bound to catch up to them eventually.

So any supernatural happenings, like the beast plague or how the night goes on for what feels like an eternity, is because the balance of the world is fucked six ways from Sunday and they have no one to blame but themselves.

—

I imagine hunter weapons have an emphasis on axes and saws and the like.

To my knowledge, chainsaws used to be hand-cranked medical tools for removing diseased bone and aiding in childbirth! It wasn’t until much later that electric chainsaws were made to be used on wood! Which fits pretty well methinks ouo

FLAMETHROWER. FLAMETHROWER ATTACHMENT FOR FIRE DAMAGE. LET'S GOOOOOO

On that note beast designs are More Creature because I said so! Tree antlers babeyyyy! Also enemies with white flowers bc some white flowers are pollinated by moths and bats at night!

EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN SIGNATURE FLOWER. I’LL GET TO THAT LATER

—

Can you imagine what it must be like to live in this place? Hearing stories of a bloodlike sap that can cure any ailment, the stuff of miracles, all found within the walls of this one city.

The architecture, a hybrid of several styles due to many different people from all walks of life coming here. Churches boasting imagery of trees and other plants. Old books about the roots of the earth itself.

The scholars in their grand university, well-versed in plants and flesh alike, finding new uses for the stuff every day.

Sap is often administered through injection and transfusion, though accurate to the time period, bloodletting and other such methods were used as well.

The sap, with its addictingly sweet taste, was even used for medicinal tea. A warm drink for whenever you’re feeling under the weather. Meanwhile, the brave and experimental swallowed seeds.

The branch of scholars who dealt with flowers were nicknamed hummingbirds for the reds and greens of their uniform, always flitting about the gardens and collecting jars of sweet nectar.

—

But with these wonders, came a price. The sap isn’t pure. Locals blame outsiders, nobility blames commoners, and the church blames anyone they deem corrupt. But in truth, it simply wasn’t meant for human consumption.

Too much for too long will render the eyes cloudy, the skin rough and almost bark-like, the lungs flooded with flowers and spilling out of your mouth hanahaki style.

No two cases are exactly alike, but the end result is the same. You are no longer human.

And so, people took up arms to hunt these beasts. A curfew was made, if there wasn’t one already, and civilians were told to stay indoors.

However, hunters are also using sap to heal themselves and boost their strength, so it’s only a matter of time until they become yet another beast to kill.

—

Many suspicions and superstitions were born of this time, out of desperation to keep the plague at bay.

Incense was hung outside houses, and those who showed “suspicious behavior” were killed before they even had symptoms of beasthood.

It was believed that the beast plague crept up the right leg, so hunter gear features a band there. As most hunters are right-handed, sap is injected into the right leg.

—

WAITTT. What if the Onceler’s dad takes the role of Father Gascoigne OH MY GOD

His mom going out to find her husband, disappearing into the night, leaving the Onceler to care for his younger brothers alone. Days passed, a week, but no sign of either parent’s return.

The Onceler crawling out the window, since the door was locked, assuring that he’ll find them and bring them back.

Searching the streets of the city, only to find the woman’s cold body and the faint whiff of her floral perfume on the breeze.

You know… She said she was going to find Dad, but she’s so close to the carriage that takes you out of the city… Nevermind. It must be a coincidence.

—

The Onceler set out to be a hunter just like his dad….. Maybe he never really had the chance to know the man. Having a relative that you’re supposed to be close to, but you’ve hardly ever heard his voice.

Daydreaming about what he must be like. How similar the two of you must be. What he’ll order when you go down to that little bakery together once this is all over. The sun has to rise eventually.

But when you finally see him after so long, when you finally witness what he’s become… Perhaps it’s best you never knew him.

As serrated metal blades screech against each other, you look up. He looks so, so much like you. Messy black hair that shines even in the dark. Sharp blue eyes and hazy, dilated pupils staring into you.

An old, visceral reflection that’s already too far gone.

—

Petrichor tainted with the stench of blood. Back against the tall brick walls of the city, sinking to the cold floor.

Chest heaving as you reach for something in your pocket; a small music box, softly playing a familiar tune as shaky hands bandage your wounds.

One of the few, hazy memories of your father was this song. A dreamlike sunny day with music and laughter in the air, the man picking you up and spinning you around. A time when nothing else mattered.

You even caught your mother humming the tune from time to time, though she stopped at some point. Things never were the same after that.

The wave of memories gets caught in the Onceler’s throat, pulling him back into the present. Pulling down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes.

—

I especially want to emphasize that feeling of becoming the thing you sought to destroy.

Hunters inevitably becoming beasts, getting drunk off the blood. Forgetting that their prey was once human, and thus, losing their own humanity in the process.

Blades cutting into bark, trampling flowers, lapping up sweet juice. You take and you take and you lose yourself in it until there’s nothing left, of you or the orchard.

Apple seeds in your stomach. Cyanide, growth, killing you from the inside.

The Onceler wants to end the cycle, to raise the sun in hopes of bringing everything back to normal. And he technically does end the hunt by burning all the trees, but in doing so, he brings about the end of the world.

—

Ok concept: One of his brothers goes into the sewers, but he falls through one of the holes that led to the ancient trees, and turns into a shambling mess with a big ol flower for a head

I dunno what Norma’s deal is here but. Chances are she’s not having a good time kajsfd- As her story progresses she falls ill, coughing up orange blossoms.

Comic in my brain of the Onceler coming back to see Norma dead, impaled by a blooming orange tree. His expression is unclear, unreadable. He picks an orange, peels it, and takes a bite.

Orange blossoms representing purity and they’re known for being used in weddings………

—

Ok hear me out. What if Artic was a doll. Just a cute cameo and reference to Bloodborne’s Doll, but maybe she was made out of wood from one of the ancient trees? Flowers just naturally grow in her hair ouo

Someone tried to create life using the wood, but things didn’t go as planned, and she was abandoned. Now she’s only seen in the dreams of hunters, a strange little place hidden in the folds between life and death.

Tending to gardens and graves, ever in a state of transience. Hunters come and they go in this endless cycle of bloodshed, but even in this brief respite from the world outside, they never stay for very long.

Maybe her signature flower is sakura! Life, death, renewal, optimism, and the fleeting nature of life.

—

WHAT IF THE ONCELER'S FLOWER IS MORNING GLORY. Wanting to bring back the morning and how morning glory is a vine- OUGHH I’m just picturing the vines wrapped around his arm

AND THE POSITIONING OF THE FLOWERS IS IMPORTANT TOO

ON THE ONCELER’S ARM FOR TAKING ACTION. SPILLING OUT OF NORMA’S MOUTH FOR HER WORDS. IN ARTIC’S HAIR FOR HER KNOWING THINGS THE OTHERS DON’T BC SHE’S MADE FROM THE TREE

YOOOOOOO maybe there’s a boss fight against Artic since she knows burning everything to the ground is Not A Good Idea so she tries to stop him

And she uses these dual swords covered in flowers both in reference to Bloodborne’s Lady Maria, and how other versions of Artic use dual swords!!

[mistresslrigtar]

Written for @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023 prompt Free Day. I chose the prompt New Beginnings from a previous year.

This chapter is part of the overall Hylink story-arc, but can be read as a one-shot. Enjoy!

Sitting on the side of the bed, Zelda runs a boar-bristle brush through her hair, enjoying the feel of the warm sun filtering through the window on her skin. The warmth is deceptive; with fall quickly approaching, she knows the air will be brisk when she steps outside. The seasons had come as a surprise to her and Link, as when they had decided to stay on the surface, it had been mid-spring, and the weather had been similar to what they were used to. Skyloft’s weather was always consistent, neither too hot nor too cold. Since settling on the surface, they have experienced two seasons so far - late spring, when everything is beginning to bloom, and summer so hot she and Link had spent as much time as possible in the cool water of a nearby stream.

Read the rest below or on AO3

Frolicking in the water wearing next to nothing had led to long overdue exploration and the rapid advancement of their relationship. So much so that by the end of summer, they had found a priestess to make it official. Zelda holds some remorse that in their haste, there had been no time to send word to Skyloft, but Link has promised they can invite all their friends for a reception, and they can do it all over again in the presence of her father if she wants. Whatever will make her happy. He’ll find a way to give her the sun, moon, and stars if possible. One would think he is the divine being reincarnated instead of her.

Although being mortal sets limits to her divine power, and she doubts she can produce celestial orbs, either. The most she can do is heal minor injuries and occasionally foresee future events. Nothing so spectacular in the grand scheme of things. The hedge witch, Irene, who lives deep in the forest, can make the same claims as Zelda.

Regardless, Zelda is extremely grateful for the healing ability, as Link has proven quite reckless, constantly coming home with bruises and scrapes. She thinks he actively goes looking for trouble, and she has repeatedly scolded him. His reply is always the same; he must remain vigilant and be ready for anything. Zelda sighs. They both have so far to go to work through their personal demons.

Setting the brush aside, Zelda rises to her feet. The room spins slightly as she stands, and the sides of her lower abdomen cramp. She places her hand against the side that aches the most, and the pain eases. The feeling is similar to what she experiences when her cycle approaches, but Zelda has never been dizzy before.

The symptoms had begun about a week ago, and at first, Zelda thought nothing of it, thinking they would soon pass. However, her menses never arrived, and the cramps and dizziness worsened, accompanied by lower back pain. And it is becoming increasingly difficult to hide her ailment from Link, who tends to fret over everything. He has already mentioned her appetite being off and the odd need suddenly to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon.

So, Zelda sent him to the village that morning with a long list of items to procure to keep him busy and away for most of the day. Fortunately, the midwife Oksana’s cottage is at the opposite end of the village than the market, so there will be no risk of running into him.

As she walks down the path to the cottage, Zelda admits to herself that she feels some trepidation. All those months ago, standing beside Link and making the monumental decision to relocate to the surface permanently had made complete sense. Now she wishes she could seek Wryna’s or even Mallara's counsel. They both have been through childbirth and would, no doubt be able to ease Zelda’s fears. But, they are in Skyloft and communication from the Surface to the Sky takes too long. She cannot wait a moment more to know if she is with child.

Zelda has only seen Oksana in passing when shopping at the market. It will be awkward to speak to a stranger about something so personal.

Approaching the cottage, the door opens just as Zelda is stepping through the gate, and a young woman with a belly as large and round as a Chuchu wobbles out. She doubts if the woman can even see her feet! Is that what Zelda has in store? Oh, she is not ready for this.

Zelda cannot stop her eyes widening at the sight, and the woman laughs good-naturedly. “It’s not as bad as it seems, girl. You’ll be in good hands with Oksana.”

Giving her a weak smile of gratitude, Zelda holds the gate open for the woman before taking a deep breath and entering the cottage. A kettle hangs on a hook over a crackling fire in a large hearth in the corner, and a wide assortment of dried flowers and herbs hang from the low ceiling. The scent of lavender and chamomile in the air instantly puts Zelda at ease.

“I’ll be right with you, luv.” A voice calls from the back room, and a moment later, an older, buxom woman with graying black hair pulled back in a long braid enters. Her pale blue eyes brighten when she sees Zelda and offers her a warm smile in welcome. “Are you the young woman who sent word she was in need of my services?”

Nodding, Zelda’s fingers worry the hem of her pink pinafore. “Yes. My name is Zelda.”

“I’m Oksana, but I suspect you know that already, seeing as I am the only midwife in the village. Have a seat, Zelda.” Oksana indicates a chair at the table in the center of the room and, picking up a thick cloth, removes the kettle from the flames. Zelda settles in the chair just as Oksana returns to the table with the kettle and a cup. She fills the cup with tea before setting the kettle on the table and sitting in a chair opposite Zelda.

“What seems to be the trouble?” she finally asks.

Zelda wraps her hands around the cup, grateful for its warmth and soothing aroma. “I…. I believe I may be…. with child.”

Oksana nods her head and hums softly as she studies Zelda. “Is this your first, Zelda, luv?”

“Yes.” Zelda’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Oksana clucks, indicating the tea in Zelda’s hands.

“No need to be nervous, luv. Drink up. It will make you feel better.” Once Zelda has taken a few sips of tea, Oksana nods approvingly and then proceeds to ask Zelda all sorts of personal questions, from the end date of her last cycle to mortifying, most of all, how often she had relations and with how many partners.

“One!” Zelda exclaims, her cheeks flaming, and she quickly gulps down the rest of her tea. “My husband, Link.”

“I’m sorry, luv, I have to ask.” Oksana’s eyes shine with understanding, and she offers a comforting smile. “From what you have told me, it sounds like you are pregnant. I can perform a simple exam and test to suss for certain.”

When Zelda nods, Oksana pushes her chair back and goes to a cabinet, removing a small flat-bottomed vial filled with clear liquid, an oil lamp, and a needle. Returning to the table, she sets down the lamp, removes the glass chimney, and holds the needle in the flame. Once the tip is glowing bright yellow, she removes it from the heat and holds her hand palm up to Zelda.

“Give me your hand, luv.”

Taking a deep breath, Zelda places her hand in Oksana’s, who quickly pricks Zelda’s index finger and holds it over the vial. A few drops of blood fall into the liquid, turning it pale pink. Oksana swirls the liquid in the vial and sets it back down.

“While we are waiting for the results, let’s give you a check-up.” She leads Zelda to a padded waist-high bench. Once Zelda is settled, Oksana presses lightly on her abdomen, humming occasionally, making mental notes in her head.

Turning her head to the side, Zelda notices that the liquid in the vial has turned blue. “Oh.” Does that mean….

Oksana looks up at her and then at where she is looking and slowly smiles. “Your instincts were correct, luv.”

“Oh.” Is all Zelda can say again, her voice quivering as tears spring to her eyes. She’s going to have Link’s baby. They survived when their predecessors didn’t and were being given the chance to live a happy, fulfilling life. Covering her face, she begins to cry in earnest.

“I hope those are tears of joy.” Oksana pulls a white handkerchief from her apron pocket and offers it to Zelda. “Have you told your husband?”

“No, we have been through…. a lot of hardship.” That was an understatement. Zelda wipes her nose and eyes with the handkerchief. And she certainly had not wanted to tell Link and get his hopes up if it was a false alarm. That is assuming he wants children. To Zelda’s horror, she realizes they have never discussed the matter. “I wanted to be certain first.”

After further consultation, where Oksana tells Zelda what she can expect over the next few months, she sends her home with an envelope of herbal tea to help with any morning sickness she may experience. It is later than Zelda would have liked when she arrives home and hears Link in the apple orchard calling her name. She hurries around the side of the house, but there is no sign of him.

“Link! Where are you?” Zelda calls, walking through the trees.

“Looking for you.” His voice floats down from a nearby tree, and Zelda looks up to see him perched on a branch near the top.

“In an apple tree?” She can’t help but laugh, and Link’s cheeks pink with chagrin.

“I can see a lot farther from here. I watched you walk up the path.” Grabbing the branch and swinging down, he lands gracefully on the balls of his feet, as nimble as a feline. Zelda leans in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turns his head at the last minute to capture her lips instead.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, taking her waist and pulling her closer.

“I love you, too.” A thrill runs through her at his touch.

It’s their silly greeting that began the day this latest adventure started. Both of them were terrified of what had been and what was to come and afraid of each other. But she summoned the courage to ask Link to take a leap of faith with her; he told her he missed her; she had known what he truly meant, and here they were now married, and goddesses, expecting a baby.

He will not be upset when she tells him she is carrying their child. In her heart, she knows he will be over the moon. “There is something I need to tell you.”

Link’s face crumples immediately, and worry creases his brow. Reaching up, Zelda gently rubs her fingertips across his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles.

“No worries, my love. It is nothing terrible.” She takes a deep breath, excitement and nervousness dancing within as she gazes into his ocean-blue eyes. “I went to see the midwife, Oksana, today.”

“Are you sick?” He frowns, trying not to wrinkle his brow again.

“The opposite.” Zelda takes a deep breath and smiles brightly at him, feeling safe and loved, encircled in his strong arms. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Link blinks several times before his eyes widen; he gives a loud whoop, tightly grabbing her waist to spin her around. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Zelda’s laughter rings through the orchard when her feet leave the ground.

If she closes her eyes, it almost feels like she is flying.

“What am I doing?” Link stops suddenly, looking frightened, and sets her down gently. “I can’t be spinning you like that! Why didn’t you stop me?”

Zelda slips one hand from his neck to lightly punch his chest. “I’m not made of glass, Link. The baby and I are perfectly fine.”

He still looks doubtful, and Zelda wonders if she will have to lecture him further in trusting her. But the doubt soon clears, and his face brightens again. “We’re going to have a baby.” Link pulls her into a fierce hug, placing a tender kiss on top of her head.

Closing her eyes, Zelda breathes his rich woodsy fragrance with just a hint of apple. Apples are his new favorite fruit. She still remembers how his eyes lit up when they stumbled across this apple orchard and the vacant cottage. He’d squeezed her hand tightly and remarked that it felt like home. They didn’t have apples in Skyloft, and as soon as they had picked one off a tree and taken a bite, their minds had been made up.

Pulling back, she removes his pointed green knight’s cap, tossing it behind her, and threads her fingers in his hair, Zelda initiates a deep kiss that leads where most kisses of that nature they share usually lead. They wind up in bed, tangled in the sheets engaging in the love dance that led them to be expecting in the first place. When Oksana had asked how active Zelda was, her cheeks had flamed so brightly the midwife had laughed. But to Zelda’s relief, Oksana had assured her that, apparently, it is normal for young newlyweds to be unable to keep their hands off each other.

Oksana had also informed her that a side bonus of their pleasure was two-fold. Not only will their regular and often spontaneous lovemaking keep their relationship healthy during the pregnancy, but the endorphins Zelda’s body releases each time will help ease her aches and pains.

“I do love you so, so much, you know.” Link says when they are satiated and lying languidly in their bed enjoying the afterglow.

“I know.” Zelda snuggles closer, draping an arm and leg over him and resting her head on his chest. The feel of Link’s fingers running through her hair, gently stroking her scalp, lulls her into a doze.

“I should say it instead of ‘I missed you’,” he murmurs, his hand slowly stilling as sleep overtakes him.

“No.” Zelda tries shaking her head, but the languor is too deep. “I love our greeting. I don’t need to hear you say the words to know.”

And she doesn’t. It’s moments like this. And others — making meals together, side-by-side, talking and laughing as they prepare the dishes, reading to each other in the late afternoon, sitting by the stream every morning watching the sunrise, and relaxing by the fire in the evening in blissful companionship. This is what Zelda cherishes the most. Not so much the words spoken, but the perfect, stolen moments of just being with him.

And the two best moments of all…. falling asleep and waking up beside the man she loved, loves, and always will love.

[aristoteliancomplacency]

For an old pixel daily theme, ‘ritual’. Since I already did a lead figuring from a binding spell for the ‘creepy’ theme, I figured I’d go for a slightly more wholesome (and still creepy) ritual object here.

It’s an anatomical votive offering based on this one currently in the Acropolis Museum (y’know, that place where the Parthenon Marbles should be).

I ended up having to make it look like the column was made of bricks rather than the limestone block that it is because that’s the only way I could get even remotely close to making it look like the face is inside the column rather than resting on its surface.

Info from the Acropolis Museum website:

It was found together with the pillar in 1876 on the south slope of the Acropolis, in the area where the Sanctuary of Asklepios is located.

At the time that archaeologists discovered the pillar there was still an inscription preserved, reading "Praxias dedicated it to Asklepios with prayers for his wife". Clearly, Praxias' wife was suffering from an ailment of the eyes and he offered their image to the god.

There’s something very human about this kind of votive offering and what they reveal - that ancient people worried about their health, and the health of their loved ones in the same way people do today. That sense of worry, of wanting to be able to help is an experience in common. It’s relatable content.

Praxias loved his wife, and his wife was ill. So he dedicated this in hopes that it would help his wife.

Other relatable content: there’s at least one votive offering of hair. Just… hair as if it were arranged on a head. No head. Just the hair. People have apparently always worried about losing their hair. (Absolutely not telling anyone here how they should feel about changes to their own body, but your hair is not your worth, or your beauty, and anyone who mocks you over any part of your appearance can go shit pine cones. Unless you are literally Samson, then it might be an issue).

Anatomical votive offerings are often found in shrines, temples, places associated with healing. Some are figurines of the whole body, but often the votive is a representation of the specific organ/body part that required healing (or perhaps, occasionally, protection - there’s at least one instance of a votive offering of a foot made by someone who was about to start a long journey. Some/lotsof the votives of wombs (yes, there are lots) were probably to keep a pregnancy healthy, others might be in thanks for a healthy pregnancy. Others might be related to fertility issues as well needing healing from all the many ways that pregnancy and childbirth fuck your body up (and which we don’t talk about enough in contemporary society because what happens to the incubator just isn’t important, right? /s)

There are plenty of offerings showing eyes, ears, feet, hands, wombs, breasts and external female genitalia (which is fascinating in that it’s represented here. It’s not exactly something you see represented/talked about in antiquity (or today)). And, of course, there are lots of dicks. Probably related to erectile dysfunction than fertility, given that ancient understandings of fertility mostly thought of it as a problem with the womb rather than the spunk.

I’m kinda fascinated by this one of ‘female viscera’ Currently in the Science Museum in London. You just don’t see that many representations in antiquity of the insides of a body. And it kind of reminds me of the anatomical Venuses (highly recommend Joanna Ebenstein’s Book ‘The Anatomical Venus: Wax, God, Death and the Ecstatic’.

Anyway, check this website to to read more about anatomic votives and to see things such as a ‘Votive left hand, broken at wrist, possibly making a prophylactic gesture’.

Oh. Canvas size is 100x100 pixels.

[fordecree7]

THE BIBLE BOOK OF GOD

New Testament

Galatians 4

Sons and Heirs

4 I mean that the heir, as long as he is a child, is no different from a slave, though he is the owner of everything, 2 but he is under guardians and managers until the date set by his father. 3 In the same way we also, when we were children, were enslaved to the elementary principles of the world. 4 But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. 6 And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

Paul's Concern for the Galatians

8 Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to those that by nature are not gods. 9 But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more? 10 You observe days and months and seasons and years! 11 I am afraid I may have labored over you in vain.

12 Brothers, I entreat you, become as I am, for I also have become as you are. You did me no wrong. 13 You know it was because of a bodily ailment that I preached the gospel to you at first, 14 and though my condition was a trial to you, you did not scorn or despise me, but received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus. 15 What then has become of your blessedness? For I testify to you that, if possible, you would have gouged out your eyes and given them to me. 16 Have I then become your enemy by telling you the truth? 17 They make much of you, but for no good purpose. They want to shut you out, that you may make much of them. 18 It is always good to be made much of for a good purpose, and not only when I am present with you, 19 my little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you! 20 I wish I could be present with you now and change my tone, for I am perplexed about you.

Example of Hagar and Sarah

21 Tell me, you who desire to be under the law, do you not listen to the law? 22 For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by a slave woman and one by a free woman. 23 But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise. 24 Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar. 25 Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia; she corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children. 26 But the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother. 27 For it is written,

“Rejoice, O barren one who does not bear;     break forth and cry aloud, you who are not in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more     than those of the one who has a husband.”

28 Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. 29 But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. 30 But what does the Scripture say? “Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman.” 31 So, brothers, we are not children of the slave but of the free woman.

Galatians 4

Diane Beauford

[destinyimage]

Breaking All Generational Curses Over Your Pregnancy & Decreeing 7 Generational Blessings

Generations of cultural traditions, family stories, personal beliefs, habitual patterns, and certain ways of doing things have been passed down to all of us through our generational family lines.

There are also personal welfare conditions and various health issues that have been shared through our common natural bloodlines. It is so easy to conform to the old familiar way of thinking and acting and accept these curses as “normal,” but this keeps us living in a broken cycle of continual torment, not even realizing that through Jesus we have the ability and freedom to put an end to it. There is a new way to live in the glory realm, and this happens as we put our complete trust in the power of Jesus Christ and the finished work of the cross. We no longer need to carry the pains of the past or be held in bondage moving forward into our future. Jesus came to set us free!

In your family, there may be a spirit of poverty. If so, get rid of it now! Break that scarcity mentality! Break that mindset of poverty! You need to take authority over that curse! You are not poor; you are blessed and highly favored, and in the glory there is no insufficiency of any kind. Begin focusing on God’s abundant supply and unlimited provision and receive it!

In your family, there may be present or past history of cancer, arthritis, diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, or other physical ailments. Make up your mind to get rid of them now. Break that sickly mindset! You can do this as you take your authority in the glory! Declare, “Not today, Satan, and not ever! I break all ungodly ties with the curse, and I refuse to accept anything but God’s very best for my life!” Remember, those diseases don’t belong to you—they are part of the curse and it was broken at the cross. Stop running to your medicine cabinet or calling your doctor as a first response. Train your mind to be directed toward accessing God’s healing virtue when ungodly symptoms appear. In the glory, you are whole! Receive your freedom!

When it comes to parenting, maybe you experienced toxic patterns in your childhood, and you are concerned about what will be passed down to your children. Stop thinking that way! God is able to break off those unhealthy thoughts, words, and patterns of behavior today if you’ll allow Him to make the necessary changes in you. In the glory, there is freedom and power to be all that God has created you to be. Receive it!

There are even some physical prophetic acts that you can do (beyond prayer) to break off generational curses from your baby, and I share this in my book, Childbirth in the Glory, more in-depth.

Glory Scriptures

But Christ has rescued us from the curse pronounced by the law. When he was hung on the cross, he took upon himself the curse for our wrongdoing. For it is written in the Scriptures, “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.” Through Christ Jesus, God has blessed the Gentiles with the same blessing he promised to Abraham, so that we who are believers might receive the promised Holy Spirit through faith (Galatians 3:13-14, NLT).

We know that our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives. We are no longer slaves to sin (Romans 6:6, NLT).

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (emancipation from bondage, freedom). And all of us, as with unveiled face, [because we] continued to behold [in the Word of God] as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are constantly being transfigured into His very own image in ever increasing splendor and from one degree of glory to another; [ for this comes] from the Lord [Who is] the Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:17-18, AMPC).

Therefore if any person is [ingrafted] in Christ (the Messiah) he is a new creation (a new creature altogether); the old [previous moral and spiritual condition] has passed away. Behold, the fresh and new has come! (2 Corinthians 5:17, AMPC)

But in that coming day no weapon turned against you will succeed. You will silence every voice raised up to accuse you. These benefits are enjoyed by the servants of the Lord; their vindication will come from me. I, the Lord, have spoken! (Isaiah 54:17, NLT)

Glory Prayer

Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, Your Word says that You give Your angels charge over us to guard us and protect us. I thank You right now for releasing angels of protection over my body and over this new life that You have created within me. I thank You that no weapon forged against us shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against us in judgement You shall condemn. This is our heritage as servants of the Lord.

I decree that no word curse, generational curse, witchcraft, or evil spirit shall touch me or my child, for we are covered by the blood of Jesus. Lord, You will deliver us from evil, for Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. I have made You my habitation, and I find my protection in the shadow of Your wings. Amen!

Glory Decrees

In the glory, I am the redeemed of the Lord!

In the glory, I am moving into the new!

In the glory, what runs in my family comes from the heavenlies!

In the glory, there is complete freedom for me and my family!

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Speaking Generational Blessings

The baby in your womb is a child of abundance (overflowing with abundant blessings in spirit, soul, and body).

You must truly believe this and speak this over your child. It’s going to take a spiritual boldness on your part, but you’re well equipped to do this. If you feel insecure in this regard, just begin to study God’s Word concerning His blessings. God has always desired to bless His children. The scriptures are filled with His promises of blessing, not only for your personal life but also for the lives of your children and the generations to come. Your legacy will be one of abundant generational blessings!

In the natural, you may come from a generational family line of non-believers, but that isn’t a problem for God because you’ve been grafted into the spiritual bloodline of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob through the finished work of Jesus Christ! The generational promises that God made to them are now available for you and your generations. The Lord, speaking to Abraham (then known as Abram) in Genesis 12:2-3, made a seven-fold promise that is for each of us who names Jesus as Lord:

1. I will make you into a great nation.

For you today, this speaks of divine multiplication and God’s greatness being revealed through your life and the life of your child as you choose to trust Him and be led by His Spirit. You and your generations will do great things to advance the Kingdom of God on earth. Take this time now to prophetically speak into your child’s life in the womb. Lay your hands on your stomach and allow the Spirit to prophesy through you regarding the anointing and ministry call on your precious child’s life. Speak to the greatness within them and set them apart for God’s service. (See Jeremiah 1:5.)

2. I will bless you.

This one is pretty clear—the blessing of the Lord will follow you and your lineage all of your days as you agree with the Word and partner with the Spirit of glory. With this blessing in mind, you may want to speak the following scriptural promise over your baby in the womb: “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace” (Numbers 6:24-26, NIV).

3. I will make your name great.

It is God who promotes, advances, and blesses you with divine opportunities and connections, giving you a favorable reputation and name. He chooses to do this through those who posture themselves with humility so that He can be magnified on the earth. (See James 4:10; 1 Peter 5:6.) Instead of your family name bringing you feelings of shame or embarrassment, quite the opposite will happen. Through you and your child, your family name will be one of greatness, beyond reproach, and it will bring glory to God in the earth!

4. You will be a blessing.

Your child will not be a burden, a hindrance, or a distraction in your life. God has graced you with this child—that they might be a tremendous blessing to you and to all those they meet along life’s journey (See Psalm 127:3.) Speak to your baby right now and tell them how blessed you are to be carrying such a beautiful gift from God within your womb. It will also be important to habitually speak these blessings over your child throughout their formative years and beyond. Always remind them (and yourself) why God has brought them into this world—for such a time as this.

5. I will bless those who bless you.

This means you and your legacy will attract such blessings that it may seem almost impossible to contain! An overflow of abundance is the promise that God has for you! (See Ephesians 3:20.) Such favor rests upon your generational family line that your children and your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren will live their lives as a blessing magnet as they walk in the footsteps of salvation!

6. I will curse those who curse you.

This promise speaks of God providing a supernatural defense shield of protection around your family line. Every curse comes from the enemy, and those curses will not prosper in your life because they are being returned to hell (where they came from). Every curse is null and void because you choose to use your authority and live under the blood of Jesus Christ and within the finished work of the cross. (See Galatians 3:13.) All demonic witchcraft, hexes, spells, voodoo curses, familiar spirits, satanic sorcery, hypnosis, bewitchery, etc. are broken off your life and the life of your child. You are free to live in the fullness of God’s blessings. The curse has been reversed.

7. All peoples on the earth will be blessed through you.

As you choose to honor God’s covenant, His blessings flow with unlimited measure. Your family will be a blessing of light in a darkened world. (See Isaiah 60:1.) It’s time to arise and shine with the generational blessings of God!

I would highly recommend that you speak these individual blessings over your sweet baby as the Spirit brings them to your remembrance. Whether it’s morning, afternoon, or night, it doesn’t matter. When the Spirit quickens you to lay your hands on your stomach (anointing your baby in the womb), just do it and boldly speak these promises with a loud voice of authority. As you read this book and capture this revelation, your child is being set apart as a sign and a wonder. (See Isaiah 8:18.) God will do great and mighty things through their life because of your prayers and anointed intercession during this season of pregnancy. Your prayers are powerful—they are weapons against the enemy’s assignments, and they are re-enforcers of God’s promises for the generations to come!

Glory Scriptures

Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations (Deuteronomy 7:9, ESV).

Their children will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed (Psalm 112:2, NIV).

This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live (Deuteronomy 30:19, NIV).

Let each generation tell its children of your mighty acts; let them proclaim your power (Psalm 145:4, NLT).

Glory Prayer

Father, in the name of Jesus, I thank You for Your glory that brings great blessing, miracles and abundance for all succeeding generations. I choose to stand in my authority as a believer, and I connect with each and every promise that You have provided for me and my children.

I thank You that my baby is being born for greatness! You will multiply Your blessings in their life! You are redeeming our family name for Your glory! I choose to receive every blessing that is overflowing from Heaven for me and my legacy so that Your Kingdom will be established on the earth in a greater way through us. I declare and step into the generational blessings of God. Amen!

Glory Decrees

In the glory, I am blessed, and all of my children are blessed too!

In the glory, I am favored by God in an extraordinary way!

In the glory, my children will be raised for supernatural success and prosperity!

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[universalsrushtifertilitycentre]

Best Gynecologists in Secunderabad

Gynecologists in Secunderabad

Dr. Namratha, (MD/OBGYN) is the Chief Gynecologist and Fertility Specialist with 24+years of experience working in the Gynecological and Fertility Field. She is a renowned laparoscopic surgeon and has done many surgeries successfully. She is very passionate about her work and reaches the cause of the disease to find a cure. She is a patient-centered doctor who strives to provide a thorough explanation of the medical issues so that she can choose the best treatment option for them. Dr. Ashwini (Gynecologist) is a renowned gynecologist in Hyderabad. It is rightly said a good doctor can make a lot of difference in your treatment journey. Both these doctors are adaptive and ambitious, and have kept their calm and focused in most difficult cases. Their expertise includes but is not limited to labor ward skills, high-risk pregnancy management, Laparoscopic surgeries, pre-cancer diagnosis, fertility treatments, and other health conditions related to women’s bodies. Let’s have a look at the services we offer.

General OPD

Women’s reproductive system is rather complicated, we are here to help you by diagnosing and treating your various health issues. White discharge, vaginal infection, UTI, STD, family planning procedures(oral contraceptive pills, injectable, copper T, multi-load, etc), tuberculosis, or any other infections or disorders you can consult us. Lower back pain is also very common among women. Let’s look into it.

Lower back pain

Lower back discomfort is a frequent symptom of PMS, a condition that affects the majority of women during their menstrual cycle. Severe lower back discomfort, on the other hand, could be a sign of endometriosis, a more serious ailment. We provide comprehensive treatment for this.

Labor/Delivery

We provide comprehensive and utmost care during pregnancy and childbirth. We have successfully delivered healthy babies in the most complicated cases. Be it vaginal delivery or C-section we have mastered the skills of both. We also provide treatment for high-risk pregnancies. Almost every woman is aware of the excruciating pain that a woman goes through during natural birth, which is considered the most terrible type of pain. Some women experience greater pain during delivery than others. With the advancement in science now you can opt fora way to bring your baby into the world without suffering, you can have a painless vaginal delivery.

Painless delivery

The painless delivery is the same as a regular natural delivery, however, the pain during labor is minimal. So, a painless birth is essentially a normal delivery without the pain! An epidural injection is injected into the lower back so the drugs are released around the spinal cord.Uterus contracts and stretches with considerable energy during labor to push the baby out. Contractions, in particular, are the primary cause of labor pain. As the labor progresses, the uterus contracts and the cervix expands to move the baby out. The discomfort induced by uterine contractions travels from the uterus to the brain via the network of nerves in the backbone or spine during labor. Due to epidural, these signals could not reach the brain and there is no minimum pain in normal delivery. These injections are safe. And painless deliveries are safer too.

Best Gynecologists in Secunderabad

Gynecological surgery

Any surgical procedure involving the uterus, ovaries, cervix, fallopian tubes, vagina, and vulva, as well as the organs and structures of the female pelvic area comes under gynecological surgery. There are a variety of reasons why a woman may require gynecological surgery. Some of them are listed below.

ABDOMINAL HYSTERECTOMY

An abdominal hysterectomy is a surgical procedure that removes the uterus through a small incision in the lower abdomen. During the surgery, one or both ovaries and fallopian tubes may be removed depending upon the medical condition of the patient.

Vaginal Hysterectomy

Vaginal Hysterectomy is a surgical procedure for the removal of the uterus through the vaginal canal.

Ectopic pregnancy

When a fertilized egg implants and grows outside the main cavity of the uterus, it is called an ectopic pregnancy. The most common site of an ectopic pregnancy is the fallopian tube. Sometimes the fallopian tube may also burst due to an ectopic pregnancy. It is a life-threatening condition that required emergency surgery.

Medical termination of pregnancy(MTP)

Medical Termination of Pregnancy, or MTP, is a method of ending a pregnancy by the use of medications. It is possible to terminate a pregnancy with drugs in the early stages (7-9 weeks); otherwise, surgery is required. We carry out this procedure in accordance with government guidelines

Torsion cyst emergency

A fluid-filled sac inside or on the surface of the ovary is known as an ovarian cyst. It usually develops during or shortly after ovulation. Sometimes these cysts can become large enough to burst or rupture. The larger the cyst, the more likely it is to cause ovarian torsion. The blood flow to the ovary can be stopped by ovarian torsion, causing permanent damage to the ovary. In most severe cases surgeries are required.

All daycare surgeries

Day-care surgeries are procedures that allow patients to recover quickly from surgery and be ready to return home usually the same day.

Infertility treatment

Getting pregnant is not easy for some couples. If you are not able to get pregnant despite trying for a year you should consult a doctor. After a proper diagnosis, the cause for your infertility can be known, and accordingly, we will provide you with the treatment. Our treatment includes simple ovulation stimulation cycles to more advanced assisted reproductive techniques. Some of our services are

Female infertility Treatment

Male infertility treatment

PCOD/PCOS treatment

Recurrent miscarriage treatment

IUI

IVF

ICSI

Surrogacy

PGS/PGD

Egg freezing

Sperm bank

Egg Donation

Gynecological Laparoscopy:

This is a very simple and daycare procedure doctors can better look at the organs in your belly. Only one or two very small incisions are made instead of cutting a whole abdomen. This method can be used to diagnose various medical disorders as well as take tissue samples that are examined. It can also be used as a treatment method. Your doctor can also perform less invasive laparoscopic surgeries for various medical disorders

A laparoscopy is performed when you’re lying down with your head lower than your feet in a slightly inclined position. During surgery, you’ll be given general anesthesia to relax your muscles and avoid discomfort. After that, a tiny incision near the umbilicus is made. Usually, it is half centimeters long, this incision is used to introduce the laparoscope. Your abdomen is enlarged to make it easier to see your organs by introducing Co2 gas. It is not harmful at all.  Surgical equipment for obtaining tissue samples or removing scar tissue may be included with the laparoscope. A second incision may be made at the pubic hairline by your provider. This incision creates a second passage for instruments used for minor surgical procedures.

You’ll normally spend approximately an hour in a recovery room after surgery. You will be discharged from the hospital the same day. The recovery period is minimal.

Laparoscopic surgery is done to treat the following medical conditions

Endometriosis

Ectopic pregnancy

Fibroids

Polyps

Ovarian cysts

Hysterectomy(removal of the uterus)

Pelvic adhesions

Tubal Ligation

Diagnosis of infertility causes

Other pelvic disorder

Tubal Ligation / Family Planning Procedures

Birth control or family planning procedure or technology are the methods used to prevent unwanted pregnancy. It could be done through laparoscopy or general Tubectomy. Commonly known as tubal sterilization, is a long-term contraception procedure for women. It is a surgical procedure that prevents the egg produced by the ovary from reaching the uterus by blocking the fallopian tubes. And thereby preventing pregnancy.

Perimenopause and menopausal Care

Menopause is the end of a woman’s menstrual cycle. Menopause transition, also known as perimenopause, begins around 40 ( several years before menopause). It’s the point at which the ovaries start to produce less estrogen. It usually begins in women’s 40s, but it can begin as early as their 30s. Smoking, genetics problems, removal of ovaries can be reasons for the same. In both these conditions, women can face various health issues due to hormonal imbalance. Mood swings, hot flushes are some of the common symptoms. We provide the treatment plan for these menopausal phases.

The hormone estrogen plays a crucial role in keeping your joints healthy and lubricated. Menopause causes low levels of estrogen, which can make bones weak and brittle and more vulnerable to cracks. It can also produce symptoms including aching joints and stiffness specially in the knees, shoulder and hips. Menopausal joint pain is a type of joint pain that occurs after menopause. We take care of all these issues due to menopause and provide effective treatment.

Adolescents Gynecology

Adolescent gynecology, as the name suggests, deals with gynecologic issues that affect young women or teenage girls as they approach puberty. They have a lot of hormonal rise leading to

This includes

Pain in Breasts

Abnormal vaginal discharge

No/Irregular menstrual Cycle

PCOD/PCOS

Adolescent endometriosis

Facial hairs/acne(hormonal imbalance)

Apart from the above-mentioned, many psychosexual issues would arise. Due tothe rise in hormones or hormonal imbalance lot of changes happen in their body, their appearance would start changing, menstruationcycle will start. And also they will start developing an interest in the opposite sex.At this moment many questions arise in their mind. Parents could not answer all. Having the opportunity to speak with a medical professional about all of such issues guarantees that young women have access to accurate and dependable information. Doctors can explain in detail what’s happening in their bodies and answer all their psychosexual questions which sometimes they could not discuss with their parents. Furthermore, these office visits are fully anonymous, allowing them to express questions in a safe and supportive way. We explain everything to parents and teenagers about what is happening in their bodies and the reasons for the same. This will help to understand the reasons for changes going on in their bodies and make their journey smooth.

Gynecological Pre-cancer screening

All types of cancer that can arise in or on a woman’s reproductive organs and referred to as gynecological cancer. These Include

Cervical cancer

Uterus cancer

Breast cancer

Cancer in ovaries

Cancer of the Vulva

Vaginal cancer

A pap test in combination with other tests can be done to diagnose the pre-cancerous cells in the cervix. Anendometrial biopsy can be done to take the sample in case of uterine cancer. Mammography can be done in cases of breast cancer.

Ultrasonogram

Ultrasonography is a diagnostic medical process that involves the transmission of high-frequency sound waves into the body’s deeper organs to produce their images. This treatment allows your radiologist to see or see your interior organs, veins, and tissues without having to make an incision. It aids in the analysis of the fetus’s growth and any malformations that may exist. It can be done in infertile patients for follicular monitoring or in pregnant ladies to identify the growth of the fetus or in women who have any abnormality in the pelvic

Ultrasonography in gynecology

Gynecologic ultrasonography, sometimes known as gynecologic sonography, is the use of medical ultrasound to examine the female pelvic organs, including the bladder and recto-uterine pouch. It also helps in identifying medically significant abnormalities in the pelvis. It can be used to identify the cause of any abnormal bleeding, ectopic pregnancy, cyst etc. During infertility treatment, highly used for the follicular study.

Ultrasonography for Fetal Monitoring

During pregnancy, an obstetric ultrasound is commonly conducted every three to four weeks to check the fetus and the pregnant mother’suterus.Fetal monitoring is done during pregnancy to identify the following

Confirm pregnancy location

Number of babies and their gestational age

Babies growth and if they have any birth defect

Study the placenta and the level of amniotic fluid

Investigate fetal position or any other complication.

There are two types of ultrasounds

Transvaginal ultrasound is a type of ultrasound in which a device called a transducer is put in your vagina to send out sound waves and collect the reflections during this type of prenatal ultrasound.

Transabdominal ultrasonography is a type in which a transducer over your abdomen is moved to examine.

Other important ultrasounds include

Color Doppler ultrasound

Sound waves are used in Doppler ultrasound to detect blood flow in arteries. It is used to examine blood circulation in the fetus, uterus, and placenta during pregnancy.

Cardiotocography (CTG)

During pregnancy and labor, cardiotocography (CTG) is a technique for monitoring the fetal heartbeat and uterine contractions.

Hysteroscopy

If you have heavy menstrual cycles and severe cramping, or if your doctor needs to understand more about your reproductive health, a hysteroscopy may be advised. They can get a good look at your cervix and uterus during the procedure, which can help them figure out what’s wrong.

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[chriscdcase95]

Following the death of his wife through childbirth, a nobleman finds himself in financial troubles. Ideally, he would marry into another powerful family to help provide for his newborn, but he decides he needs extra assurance.

After marrying a seemingly suitable woman, he becomes weary when he realizes he has consumption; knowing how distant his new wife is with his daughter, he doesn’t trust her to provide for her after he passes and may even withold his fortune from her.

As he ponders his situation, he encounters two figures; the Abrahamic God, and the devil, both offer their services as godfather. He rejects both offers; because having literal God as a godfather would spoil her; and rejects the devil because he’s just genre savvy.

Towards the end of his life, he sees a third figure at the foot of his bed. It is Death, who offers his own services as godfather. Death took his wife’s life as she delivered his daughter, and he could have taken one or another; thus it’s only fair he provides for the child who lived in his wife’s place.

The man agrees to Death’s terms. After her father’s passing, Cinderella’s inheritance is withheld by her stepmother, who threatens to squander it by the time she comes of age.

Cinderella is further treated as a servant by her new ostensible family, and in her teenage years, learns that her stepsisters peers are marrying into nobility: a chance that is slim for Cinderella due to her dependence on her stepfamily and potential poverty as she reaches adulthood.

While Cinderella mopes in her family’s field - her safe space - she is approached by Death, revealing the bargain he made with her father. Death takes her to the woods and shows her a magic herb that can cure all alignments, and explains how it can be used to make Cinderella rich and independent.

Cinderella becomes a renowned healer in her kingdom, being able to predict when someone can die, or heal anyone from any ailment. Whatever wealth she lost to her stepfamily will be a drop in the bucket. If she sees Death standing at the foot of her patient’s bed, they can be healed; if he’s standing at the head of the bed, their time has come.

Over time, Cinderella was taught to see others as equals given how Death does the same; Death takes you wether you’re rich or poor, wicked or innocent, religion or creed. Cinderella gets attention from the King, having followed a crusade where she healed and predicted the deaths on both sides.

Cinderella is approached by the King, who reveals his youngest son is dying of a disease plaguing the land. Cinderella is made numerous offers, lulling her into a sense of temptation she hadn’t felt in years. Notably, she could marry into the royal family, as a few of her girlhood peers have. A dream she had long forgotten.

When Cinderella approaches the young prince’s sickbed, she see’s her godfather standing at it’s head…

A retelling of Cinderella that’s a crossover with Godfather Death, with Death taking the role of the Fairy Godmother.

[turntales]

some korekiyo backstory headcanons / info below the cut:

massive tws for child abuse, neglect, sexual abuse, inc*st, etc. 

due to a pattern of abuse korekiyo suffered at the hands of his sister and other family members, they developed dissociative identity disorder, which led to their sister taking on a role as a persecutory/interject alter. they had a few other alters as well, but they’ve since been working through therapy to integrate these alters.

korekiyo’s mother died during childbirth, and their sister was 11 at the time of their birth.

their father was often travelling, therefore leaving them home alone with each other when miyadera turned 13, believing they were capable of taking care of themselves.

they were homeschooled due to the frequent travels of their family, and the fear that with low immune systems running in the family, the children would get sick.

miyadera falls ill with the same ailment of their mother when korekiyo turns 5, and she turns 16. age 6 and 17 respectively is where a lot of the grooming begins, as miyadera tries to shape them into exactly what she wants them to be (specifically what she’s always wanted as a friend and partner).

korekiyo’s father doesn’t return from one of his trips when the siblings are 8 and 19 respectively. miyadera, despite her illness, takes on the role of head of the household and expects 8 year old korekiyo to take care of her.

miyadera’s abuse began with emotional abuse, often calling korekiyo useless, annoying, etc. when they weren’t behaving in a way that pleased her, and then moving on to physical and then sexual abuse when korekiyo turned 12-13.

they went to therapy at age 16, a year after their sister died (when she was 26). they realized to be able to successfully go about their studies, they needed more than just themselves. it took a while to get the help they needed, but they eventually went and it has helped immensely.

this being said, their trauma isn’t something that heals fast. obviously, they had to relearn a lot about love and relationships, and who they truly are. despite this being incredibly hard, they work very diligently to succeed.

hypersexuality is a coping mechanism for them, note that it is not inherently positive or negative, it simply is the way they went about dealing with their se/xual abuse. they often feel inclined to start physical relationships and end up feeling very guilty after.

their 

[rudjedet]

hi there! i just got done reading the (entire) edwin smith papyrus post and it got me wondering: what do we know about how the egyptians treated pediatric patients? (or their thoughts toward kids in general?) pediatric pharmacy is prob gonna be my specialty and it’d be super neat to see if the egyptians practiced medicine differently with kids than with adults.

(also i realize saying “the egyptians” isn’t very nuanced so feel free to generalize or specialize as you see fit. info-dumping encouraged :)

Well first thing you have to be aware of is that the concept of "childhood" as we know it now is a relatively new concept, and the ancient Egyptians didn't necessarily ascribe to it in the same way. In general, from about the age of 12-13, children were considered full members of society. They were infants until about 4 years of age, from which point on they'd start helping the adults around them in the tasks of daily life. (Sidenote: this is for the lower classes - for elite children this is different in that they weren't required to start doing menial labour, but they too were put to work by e.g. learning how to read and write. Generally a little later than their lower class counterparts, however.)

Children were very important to the Egyptians and they would go through a lot of effort to protect them. We have for example apotropaic wands that were most likely used as ritual protection during childbirth and in infancy, and distinct amulets meant for children in order to keep them safe and healthy from malign entities. Like many ancient and less-ancient societies, Egypt had a lot of infant death. Household deities like Bes and Taweret were invoked to give their protection to the smallest ones in hopes of ascertaining their survival.

A few examples of those wands:

These are currently in The MET and date back to the Middle Kingdom. On the back of the second one the following lines are inscribed:

Recitation by the many protectors: We have come that we may extend our protection around the healthy child Minhotep, alive, sound, and healthy, born of the noblewoman Sitsobek, alive, sound, and healthy.

The one on the bottom is inscribed with "protection of day" and "protection of night".

As for pediatric medicine, we don't really know if there was a concept like that (at least not to my current knowledge). We're not even sure if the Egyptians even made a distinction between different kinds of medicine and its practitioners, or if every physician just did... everything. Egyptian medical handbooks were often ordered by specific ailment or body type, and we do also have very specific sources such as a surgical papyrus (the Edwin Smith Papyrus you read my great big rant about) and a gynaecological one (Kahun Papyrus).

But apart from a few recipes pertaining to infant ailments/stillbirths, we don't have any specifically pediatric handbooks/medicine attested. To be honest I doubt there would be since children weren't treated remarkably different to adults once they survived their first 4-5 years of life.

So the TL;DR here is no, we don't have any evidence that the ancient Egyptians treated child patients differently from adults, but for very young infants they certainly tried everything in their power to make sure they were safe and healthy until they were out of their toddler years!

[mostly-mundane-atla]

How do you feel about the sexism in the Water Tribes? From my genuinely limited research, women were well regarded and “women’s work” was valued highly. Sorry if this sounds like I’m asking you to summarize social classes in your culture but I am curious about how you feel about this narrative choice ?

This is actually a really good question and something I've wanted to talk about for a while.

First off, when people talk about sexism existing in the Water Tribes as a whole, I don't know exactly where they're coming from. Neither Bato (just fine with Katara participating in a young men's coming of age ritual) or Hakoda (who is very proud of and knows he can rely on his daughter's martial skills) share any sexist views, and Katara's specific irritation at Sokka over his blatant sexism suggests it's more the exception than the rule. Yes, it was just the men that left, but there are a few things to consider there. First that most of the waterbenders taken away (at least in Hama's memory) were women, so there was likely some trauma around that. Also that breastfeeding tends to go on longer than most people are used to in Inuit/Inupiaq cultures (kids traditionally got potty trained waaaay before they stop nursing). When food options are limited and not available at industrialized speeds, there's not a whole lot of other ways to be sure small children are getting all the nutrients they need. So in that sense, it's a matter of practicality that mothers would stay behind. Babies make it hard to move the way armies need to move. I think there was also some expanded universe stuff explaining that the Southern and Northern Water Tribes did not agree on what a "woman's place" actually was.

But yes, your research would be right in that "women's work" was highly respected and valued by the Inuit and Inupiat. Not only that, but men were expected to know how to cook and sew as well (sometimes whaling crews were just men and would be out at see for a long time, you can't just delegate mending or meal prep to women who aren't there). Women were also known to fish and set traps, so it's not like men were the sole providers. Women's and men's work was less a strict divide between domestic/providing and more what could be done with a baby on your back/what could be done without a baby. It's not like they could just set the baby aside and pick it back up again, either. The safest and most convenient place for a baby was underneath its mother's clothes. Not only did this keep them warm and out of the wind, but by shifting the kid around (there's a belt holding them to the mom's body) they can nurse no problem. This is why you'll see babies' faces in womens hoods in old photos and sometimes even today.

Women's work, specifically sewing, also gave women experience in another important cultural aspect: tattooing. The traditional way was with a needle (originally made of bone, but later you'd also find steel ones) and bit of sinew sewing ink into the skin. These tattoos were important for a few reasons.

A girl's coming of age tattoos on her chin would indicate that she was old enough to consider marriage, with the ordeal of sitting through the tattooing being proof of her pain tolerence and thus ability to handle childbirth. Some other tattoos were entirely for beauty's sake, but nonetheless important to the cultural identity. Some were to protect the spirit from illness or possession or people who would do them harm. It was a very important skill women would work on their entire lives and served a very important spiritual purpose. Women had to be able to grow old to be able to serve this role.

And so to see sewing and cooking and healing being treated as a lesser position by Inuti/Inupiaq coded characters doesn't make any sense. Everyone needs clothes and food and help through ailments and if the people doing so happen to be caring for babies at the same time that's a lot of service they're doing to the community. In a climate that could kill you for standing around without any fur clothes, that's not something that would be shrugged off is just women's work. Not by people who survive only by everyone doing what they can to help and acknowledge everyone's contribution.

Also please understand that this explanation is only as cis as it is because heavy assimilation into a Eurocentric and Christianized world makes the sipiniq difficult to find reliable information on.

[wcrriorhearts]

rhaenyra assumes it is a natural thing for men to desire an heir, as society dictates they are of utmost value and men do not have to bring them into the world. they do not bear the risks of childbirth or pregnancy, nor have to live with the ailments that come with both. all they want is to show of their sons like trophies, so their innocent light reflects upon them and alleviates their status. it is an unfair concept, in which the woman who bears those sons is shamefully overlooked. rhaenyra has never desired anything less than children; after her mother's tragic demise, the mere thought of childbirth evokes panic in her, for she does not wish to suffer the same fate as the former queen. it is unlikely, rhaenyra knows, but still. children are not worth the hassle to her, but she isn't naive enough to think that she will truly find ways to avoid having them.

it almost surprises her to hear such honest words from her uncle, more so to find out he does indeed wish to have children of his own one day. to her, he has always been a wild and untamed beast, much like their dragons, happy to never settle, never stay long in one place, never truly interested in conventional expectations. maybe she misjudged him and daemon, at his core, wants the same as most people do: a family, a home, someone to call his own. he has suffered a lot of rejection at the hand of his family throughout the years and she assumed it might have festered in him, forming the wish to create a home for himself where he belongs and is appreciated.

she follows, heat flooding her body at his touch, and listens to his words. the princess cocks her head to one side, mustering daemon as they walk, his words spinning a picture she is beginning to understand. "i see. i assume your departure to runestone will be your last, then", she tells him, lavender hues locking on his with a fierce expression which conveys that she does understand what he is trying to say. his wife is not worthy of their blood, so he will need to find another wife. which he can only do when his current burden no longer dwells among the living. this knowledge does nothing to her. she is indifferent to murder and will not tell her uncle to refrain from it. he will find ways to make it look like an accident.

rounding a corner, he hears the faint echo of a celebratory cry from the room they leave behind — perhaps a chant or toast, or a small dance has broken out. more droll, he's sure. "i do wish to have heirs," daemon responds honestly after a few footsteps of thought, "it has become ... somewhat more apparent to me of late." mainly due to the status of the realm; his reappearance at court... and the potential at his fingertips once again. to assure anything further, particularly in regards to his brothers' seat, and that of the council, it would inarguably help him to have heirs of his own. but not with her. daemon has been shackled down, married ,far too long. he will not have a bastard – not with the hightowers licking their lips for any sign of weakness. daemon intends to have trueborn heirs, and he does not intend to wait much longer... and pieces of this marital puzzle are, one at a time, beginning to reveal themselves to him. the shape of a plan forming in the dark corners of his cunning mind.

daemon's thoughts abruptly return to the conversation at hand, a small chuckle plucked from his lips — "you're entirely correct ... i do not have to like to lady wife to bed her, nor to put a child in her. you're wiser to the politics of marriage than last we spoke. you'll have to tell me why this is later on." he lays a hand at the small of her lower back as they make their way through the less-trafficked passageways that would take them outside, wondering what else she has learned in his absence; he doubts that viserys has allowed much freedom... but his niece was born with a ferocious, insatiable side, one to out-do even that of her sire. his thumb strokes a softly possessive line across the lower of her spine, noting how the fabric of the dress quite soft under his calloused dragonrider's touch. daemon muses, continuing; "i'm certain you're aware i do have to like her to some extent... yet one could argue that a vivid imagination and a dimly-lit bedchamber could suffice for the purpose of fathering a child." slowing for a moment, pulling them both to a pause; "— the answer, rhaenyra, is simple," daemon leans it, part for security within the potentially spy-laden castle, and part for emphasis as answer comes out a little more than a murmur of a his dark tone and warm breath against her ear; "the bronze bitch has never been worthy of such a gift; valyrian bloodlines– our bloodline is sacred, beautiful. a precious thing. i have no plans to sully it."