#project Praetorian

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 60: Arrival, Part VI

The Battle of Philidelphia finally ends, with a maneuver that sees the Praetorians take the fight out of Earth's gravity well, and the enemy finally withdraw.

Beta-read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive

Mark

“Okay. Here’s the plan.” He was looking at the radar, which exhaustingly revealed that the aliens were coming in hot on more dropships - though not the command shuttle. He had to find some way of stripping their shields again, even if it nearly killed him, to try to stop off that trickle of reinforcements. 

Which meant that he’d probably be out of action for a while, but it also meant he could do the most damage on the ground - with Xavier and him splitting focus to rip apart the enemy assault.

Which, in turn, led to the conclusion that Echo would be leading the attack on the ship, but while she was actually doing techy shit, she’d need someone else managing the operation…

He glanced at Jared. From what he’d seen so far, Jared was capable of balancing risk and reward, and good at improvising. He wasn’t sure he liked the ex-Nazi, yet, but Jared had been an excellent and ruthless fighter, and one who’d repeatedly proven willing to put himself on the sharp end. The fact that Jared was, in his own right, a decent tactician, and had done the math Mark had hoped after their initial confrontation…

Mark made his snap decision and divided his command. 

“Okay. Two teams. Ground team, for discouraging alien landings and tearing apart any Ascendancy trooper who manages to touch Terran soil: me, Seraph, Boombox, Deadeye, Mags, and Titan. We’re going to support the troopers on the ground and keep them alive as best we can. Cipher, you and Frost are in command of the Shuttle Assault team. You will take Siren, Whiplash, Cat and Glitch. Get aboard the carrier, and take it down. Return alive. Do not waste any time or take any unnecessary risks. Skyflower, do not leave the shuttle.” 

Jared looked at him in surprise, and Echo blinked. 

“Yes. I trust you two to manage. Frost, do not let Cipher come to any harm under any circumstances. This war, as it stands, hinges on her as our most vital strategic asset. Keep her alive.” 

Jared looked him up and down, then glanced at Echo, pale eyes inscrutable. Then he saluted. “Understood, Lieutenant.”

Echo shot him a look. “They’re gonna get the guns back online before too much longer, you know that, right? And once I’m on, I’ll be too busy to take them back off before we take the carrier down.”

“Then take it down fast, because I’d rather do that than wind up retreating and have them glass this place off the map once they get the guns online again anyway.” 

Echo nodded. “Got it. I’ll get the shuttle online.”

Mark was already looking at the GPS, already praying he hadn’t sent friends to their deaths, and was already hearing Vergil note the positions of more alien dropships coming in, the screams of troopers minding radar.  Bastards couldn’t even bother hiding from radar, like they knew human interceptors weren’t a…hm. No, wait. Shielding itself made radar irrelevant, but it also increased radar profile because of the way it projected…hm. If things were already locked…

He sprinted over and started drawing in the standing static from all the plasma shots. “Skyflower, hold takeoff. Mags, standby with AED.” 

Then he raked the sky with lightning again.

And this time he dropped, seizing, vision gray, arm alight with agony, chest burning, and found himself breathing again, his arm no longer destroyed. He could barely stand, his nerves having been regrown a second time in less than a day, and Shiloh was shaky.

But the sky above Philly was now being torn with interceptors, and as he watched another dropship was blasted from the sky. 

And their captured shuttle streaked skyward, under the cover of hundreds of surface-to-air missiles.

“Okay. Start the battle. Fuck this. This city is fully evac’d, right?” He said, thinking. “There a gas main along any of the avenues they’re advancing through?” 

***

Molly 

She was still buzzing with anxiety when she climbed into the shuttle. But felt, without knowing how, that this ship would be the death of someone she loved, maybe herself, maybe others. Needed to say it. As Echo booted the drives up, and Amaryllis touched the controls, she strapped in, nervously. 

“Skyflower, are you sure?”

“I don’t love that Storm decided my first flight on this thing should be in live fire combat, but I’ll manage. Fly in, fly out. Survive. Hold on.” They started heading up, and Molly held on.

She had read somewhere that astronauts usually got sick when they started breaching the atmosphere, but whatever this shuttle was built from, whatever alien machinery it had, was keeping her from feeling the acceleration. 

She didn’t dare look back, but she saw, on the instruments, that they were clearing atmosphere. Echo had forced her language model onto the alien computer. “Approaching alien ship. Cipher, send the signal, let them think we need to dock.”

Echo nodded, then did something Molly couldn’t see. She had to pray that it was going to work. She could see - through the viewport, that thing had to be enormous - the carrier. Massive, sleek, grey-green, with weapon emplacements all over. The ship loomed, shaped like a massive claw, in orbit - though absent the beacon, it now seemed a little less perfectly orbiting than it had, as though the navigators were trying to actively keep it on course. 

Molly bit her tongue as Echo nodded. “We’re clear for landing. Docking port at your 2.” 

“10-4.” Amaryllis was already steering in.

Jared nodded. “Unstrap, everyone. Lock and load, we’re probably dropping hot. Siren, get ready for another one of those interference frequencies - I don’t want us eating plasma on entry. See if you can’t spray down whatever their hangar security is with your carbine while you do it.”

Echo nodded. “Right. Looks like our first stop is along this wing by the hangar - there seems to be a shaft we can take almost straight to the main reactor. We could make a play for the guns to try to get pressure off the team if…”

Almost as if on cue, the massive ship shuddered and a massive pulse of actinic fire erupted from a weapon emplacement on it’s belly. Molly didn’t see what it hit, but she knew the guns were back online.

To her surprise, Jared shook his head. “Longer we can go without them being aware we’re here, the better. I don’t like our chances if we have to fight our way in and out of this place. Honestly, Micah - how far can you straight teleport us? Like if I ask you to get you and me to the reactor, can you do it from the hangar?”

Micah thought. “Cipher, how far from the hangar to the reactor?

“Just pure space? About half a klick if you could go in a straight line. Problem is you can’t.”

Micah thought. “Yeah. I can do that. If I only have to take one person.” 

Amaryllis was almost in. Skyflower gently set the ship down. Molly bit her lip, then stopped. She took a breath in as they landed. Their hangar port was slowly repressurized - and she took a breath as a group of aliens moved into the hangar - a handful of the big Hulks, who mostly seemed to be here to check on the machinery, one that was carrying what looked like power cells - and many, many Croaks who were carrying containers of something else.

None of those were what had Molly worried. None of those, in fact, were even armed. No, what had Molly worried was the team of Spikes, almost twenty of them, that had moved into the hangar as a security team, blasters at their shoulders. She took a breath, warmed up her voice, and double-checked her rifle. 

Then Amaryllis dropped the ramp and she desperately cried out the note, twisting it as it ripped through the air, hoping to stall the aliens before they could fire. If even one got a shot off, she knew, they were all dead.

Jared snap-threw a grenade out through the gap in the door, and even as she started singing, she heard the horrible buzz that meant an alien was trying to shoot but couldn’t, that buzzing itself would mess with her frequency - but then they were in sight and already they were out of the hatch, moving, guns blazing. She felt her heart pounding as she kept the note up, firing as rapidly as she could, Spikes dropping. She found her magazine empty, then rapidly reloaded, took a breath, and dove as a plasma bolt struck the shuttle they’d taken in. She fired again and saw a Spike’s leg blown off at the knee before Jared executed it, then saw Mia run around the side of the shuttle and lit up more of them.

Then Kimmy was among them SMG blazing, and the last of them were down. The Croaks were running and before she was even aware of what she was doing she was throwing a frag into the midst of them, and watching as Jared and Micah coldly gunned down the bigger worker aliens. After her grenade exploded in a rough thump, Molly walked over and began gunning down wounded Croaks. 

Maybe, maybe once it would have bothered her. 

But that was before one of these things had turned Annette into a smear on the wall. One of the aliens tried to crawl away, its forelimbs burned and damaged, one of its back legs missing entirely.

She raised her pistol and executed it without pausing. Only after the last of them was dead did it hit her that the girl she’d been when she’d arrived would never have recognized the girl she’d become.

Jared was already grabbing Micah. “Okay. Can we get to the reactor?”

“Are you certain we can take it solo?”

Molly watched as Mia zipped over to the hangar door, and checked it. “No company!” 

Kimmy was breathing hard, but all the blood drying on her armor right now was the wrong color to be hers. The gymnast gave her a weak smile. “You okay?”

Molly nodded, blushing a little at the acrobat’s grin. “Doing fine. You?”

“So far.” 

Jared and Micah had apparently reached some kind of decision, one that Micah clearly didn’t care for. They were talking to Echo and with barely an effort Molly brought the sound of the conversation to herself and Kimmy. 

“-Just keep on the comms. Guide us in, and tell us when we’ve cracked it so we can get out.”

“Take out the pylons, then I’ll turn the shielding off once you’re clear. Once that’s taken care of, I upload a virus that takes them offline while the ship fails.”

Mia screamed. “Guys we have company!” 

Molly rushed to the bulkhead, deeply amused to finally, finally, have a place where cover existed against the alien machines. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Jared and Micah vanish.

Vergil

Headshot. Another Spike slumped down, brains splattered over a wall behind it. The eye not close to the scope picked up movement, and Vergil twitched his crosshairs just a little over, then fired again. Another Spike dropped, the round having slammed straight through its spine and leaving an exit wound the size of a small plate.

Jonathan was raining hell, but Vergil’s concern was far more precise. Spot enemy elites, kill them. Honestly, at this point, he was starting to note indicators of rank. Some of what seemed to be the officers wore adornments on their horns, or slight changes in the limited armor the aliens wore, and Vergil was learning to target those.

“Deadeye, check west?”

He did - “Uh…Scope’s clear. No contact. Wait, small fireteam setting up north of west. Four blocks. Be careful on approach.” 

“Understood. Start potting them. There’s a bigger force coming up and we want to cut it off.” 

Vergil was still confused about why the higher ups weren’t just letting Mark call down artillery on the bigger groups, but Mark seemed like he already had a plan.

That sounded entirely too ominous for Vergil’s taste, but he dutifully focused his fire on the advancing squad. It was at that point he actually started seeing the force that Mark was worried about - a small group of armored vehicles, at least a few tanks, a huge group of Croaks. Dozens of Spikes. Not in formation, but Croaks were being used as infantry screens even as the Spikes were moving along the buildings.

Mortars were still pounding other avenues, further off - and Vergil dropped another of the Spikes that was trying to reposition. 

Then he got a sight of Casey and Xavier, acting stealthy for once. That surprised him. He could see from here that Mark was checking some kind of map, then indicating something to Xavier. Xavier raised his launcher, focused, and fired. 

A thump, a crack, then a roar. Vergil saw something blow, beyond just the grenade, or even what Xavier could do with it. Then a blast of flame, one that tore open part of the street, one that raced up the avenue, ripped the fronts off buildings as the noise escalated and the flames ripped down the street towards the aliens.

The aliens had turned towards the formation - and Mark whipped the bits of shattered building with magnetism, raking them deeper into the damaged cover, flushing out any enemy hiding in them, and Vergil watched Spike blood trickle out the broken store high rises as Mark turned the now burning buildings into blenders.

It hit him all at once what had happened. Xavier had blown open a gas main and then he and Casey had turned it into a fuel-air bomb. Mark had taken metal blown loose by the explosion and used it to flush out anything too well covered to be killed.

Vergil snapped out of it, head pounding from the noise. They were already pulling away from the tanks, calling for Jonathan over the comms.

He was already redirecting his own fire, knowing that when Jonathan moved he’d need to start fucking up the alien officers to let Jonathan reposition and disrupt the Ascendancy enough that they’d be off balance when the other three jumped into the force Jonathan and Shiloh had been standing off with more conventional arms. 

He didn’t get the chance to see what happened next - a blast rocked his bones, and he glanced over. 

“Alien orbital fire back online!”

“Yeah, no shit. Just keep Titan covered. I need that switch to go smooth. Leave downtown to the US Army - unless they were the ones that just ate that shot.” 

Jonathan was racing across, smashing something out of his way. Vergil was reloading, then firing, keeping up. It was strange to watch Jonathan serve as the mobile anti-armor, but it was what they had, even as Mark used plasma static to fuck up the tanks’ ability to target Jonathan.

Xavier and Casey were already repositioning to start firing on the alien forces that Jonathan had pinned down - but they’d circled from the north, and when they descended, they began slaughtering with fire and thunder like murderous angels.

There were a small group of troopers - Imperator troopers - fighting their way up the avenue. Shiloh rushed towards them. Vergil immediately saw why. Leading that squad was Curtis, face blistered and armor splattered. 

That group was already pushing back into cover, engaging an advance with light machine guns and rifles, and Vergil added the weight of his fire to them. A plasma blast tore open a building and sent shrapnel flying, ripping one man’s face open, and Shiloh almost casually threw him to the ground, healed him, and shoved him back into cover.

Curtis flashed the kids a grin as Shiloh began firing at the aliens, face distorted in a savage snarl. Vergil saw a strange blur in the window and for a moment felt a surge of panic - then he fired, and saw a spray of dark blood. He kept his weapon closely trained on them. Not a chance were those invisible fuckers coming near his family again.

Micah

Being alone with Jared wasn’t exactly the most comfortable. Neither was flying into space with a totally untested craft they’d just captured. Neither was teleporting into an unknown part of a starship with unknown opposition.

Actually, almost every part of this had Micah ready to have a full tilt panic attack, and when they appeared in the reactor room, only for Jared to immediately shoot the two Spikes in the room and then immediately turn on the Croaks…

He started hyperventilating. Then he saw something new. An alien they hadn’t seen yet. There were the big ones, the Hulks - Jared was already firing on them, and grimly, Micah joined - but there was a species they knew existed but hadn’t seen.

Skinny, extremely gangly, with oblong, sloping skulls that looked almost like beetles in shape, with bodies that resembled upright salamanders, limbs more akin to those of a sloth…These must be the Slenders that had become the Ascendancy’s ruling caste. Supposedly incredibly intelligent, but physically weak. Used high technology to compel the allegiance of the Spikes, who had then…

Jared, face distorted in hate, was already walking over, and smashed one of them in the face with his rifle butt. It raised it’s hands, too slowly, and Jared smashed it again. And again. Micah was hyperventilating, but there was a rage in him. All the Spikes, all the death - it was the fault of these things. Being taken from his home wouldn’t have happened if not for the things standing in front of him. He shouldn’t have been here and next thing he knew he was screaming at them and had pulled his combat knife.

The ruined bodies of the Slenders would have been useless for Koleth to autopsy, but Jared grinned savagely at it. “Damn. Okay. Micah, I want it out loud and not just because of what we just did. I am sorry I ever called you a pussy. You are a badass.” 

Micah looked at what he’d done to an enemy incapable of defending itself and felt sick. He started checking his ammunition, started checking the distance from here to the hangar…Jared put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. You alright?”

Micah gave a half-hearted laugh. “No! We just murdered those things! We’re going to be doing this til we die or we’ve gone so insane that that makes sense! Allah yagfir lana, Frost, that doesn’t terrify you?”

Jared paused. “I’ll answer that on the way down. For now…” He keyed the comms.

“Cipher, we’re in position.”

“Yeah, uh…checked the schema. We’re holding out. Fuck up the pylons before I take down the shielding, and have Glitch move you the minute the pylons are down. There’s gonna be enough free-flowing radiation once both those are out that you don’t want to be there without shielding.” 

Micah nodded. He looked around. There was some kind of dome of translucent material he didn’t know, and inside glowed a sphere that looked like a tiny sun. It didn’t hurt his eyes to look at it, though it was painfully bright. Surrounding that were several things that looked almost like…he’d seen a Tesla coil at a museum once, and this almost looked like that, but the connections looked…off.

Jared picked up the blaster and began heating the pylons. “Okay. Here goes. Keep anything that comes in off me.” 

The next few minutes were the most tense in Micah’s life as Jared did it over and over. Shattering and melting one pylon after another. He let the sounds of cracking, screaming metal wash over him, collected the vibration, collected the sound, focused on the distance, and when Jared at last tore free the last one, it felt loud. Too loud. Like the ship was starting to shake. Jared grabbed him and they both shook, he went dizzy, and they were back in the hangar.

The first thing he saw was Kimmy backflipping. Then he saw that she’d done it to get away from a Spike. She pulled her pistol and shot it - her rifle had been shattered and lay away from her. Echo was still at a distance. Mia had picked up one of those fast-firing needle weapons that some of the aliens carried as sidearms and was spraying it down a corridor. 

Echo cursed. “Okay, shielding down, can’t keep them from just flushing the airlock, get on the ship, NOW NOW!”

They bolted for the ship, Kimmy, then Micah heard Jared shout for him to get Echo. He sprinted to Echo, on the far side of the hangar from the boarding ramp to their captured shuttle.

He saw Jared go for Mia - start covering her as she bolted back, then back up onto the boarding ramp.

And Jared still wasn’t aboard the ship, even as Mia sprinted for it, starting to cover him, and Kimmy grabbed Amaryllis’s SMG and started covering them too.

Micah grabbed Echo as she started running and they warped back onto the ship.

“SKYFLOWER GET US OUT OF HERE!” Jared jumped aboard and the ramp came up.

Echo grinned as they took off. “I lied. I had started the depressurization when I said it. I didn’t want them evacuating. We’re out.”

They started falling through the atmosphere, Amaryllis laughing. “Holy shit. WE just took it down.”

Micah was laughing - but he saw how Jared looked at him, and fist bumped the other boy. He saw Mia looking at Jared, and he saw Kimmy and Molly staring at each other.

Jared muttered to Micah. “No. It doesn’t bother me. Because long as I’m here, I never have to go back to where I was, the people I was dealing with that made my cousin look good, and I can stick with you all. Probably going to die, but before I do, maybe I score with someone I would have been too stupid to notice before I got here. There’s definitely worse ways to live.”

“We’re coming down - Cypher, help me out, this is gonna be a trick. I know it was helpful but I do wish we hadn’t trashed that beacon.”

Xavier

“Almost got them!”

The aliens were now fully panicking. Groups of them were falling back, retreating, or otherwise bolting. The Army had managed to push it’s way out of an attempted encirclement and repay the attack, and now the Imperator troopers they were fighting alongside were pressing the attack.

Shiloh had been heroic - after Curtis’s squad had arrived, almost all of them were swearing up and down that the medic was the only reason most of them would be serving, and not a one was exaggerating. They now moved as a living screen around Shiloh when the medic broke cover, ignoring Shiloh’s pleas for them to stop.

Then Mark said something. “Colonel, General, I’m going to switch to all channels and ask you to repeat that, if it is convenient.” 

“Acceptable, Lieutenant,” Xavier suddenly heard someone say. “The enemy are routing. Additional forces are surrounding the remainder. There seem to be some kind of pods dropping from the destroyed ship - your team is closest. Can you retrieve them? Once you do, fall back to base. You’ve already won this battle.”

“Understood, Colonel.”

Echo’s voice rattled over comms on their way over to the indicated coordinates. “Carrier eliminated. We’re all okay! We’re coming down, Amaryllis wants her normal gunship back.”

Xavier started laughing. 

The drop pods turned out to contain a species whose existence Echo had confirmed but which Xavier had never seen. A handful of them, only. Sloping, large heads, slothlike limbs, and salamander-like bodies. The creatures panicked when captured. But they did now have prisoners - ones they hoped could be exchanged or used as diplomatic tokens.

When they got back aboard the gunship - with the prisoners in tow - they looked out over Philly. Over half the city was in ruins, and God only knew how many had died.

But their first major battle had been a victory, at least on paper.

Echo cursed as she glanced at the data pad. “‘Report. Multiple Ascendancy super carriers detected. Predicting simultaneous arrival within the month.’” 

The team froze. Multiple supercarriers. 

All of that had just been with one.

Molly glanced at Kimmy, and Xavier saw her desperately reach out a hand. 

Casey spoke. “Not over, is it?”

“Not close. We’ll need to make some kind of statement. Ideally before they get here. People are scared. Let’s give them something to believe in.” 

At that, Xavier smiled. It was time for them to commit. To really go for broke on keeping that promise to each other, made under the stars when they’d first heard the rumor of what was coming. To make themselves the public face that couldn’t be ignored.

[indra-istari]

Furiosa is a woman you misogynist. Tough women with buzz cuts aren’t men.

Also “queer” is a disgusting, homophobic slur

[trixster40k]

I made a mortar and lazcannon from scrap from school's plumbing trash bin for my praetorian guard. Bulky, nice and steampunk. May add studs/rivets. Going to cast them to have full squads. Sister shown for scale

[miidnight98]

finally finished playing mass effect trilogy again after months (oopsies)

i was playing it for my partner and then i would stop playing for months bc umm old pc went to shit

priority earth good final mission until you get to the fucking STARCHI-

[gebo4482]

PROJECT VESPERI

Gameplay Trailer

Wbsite / Steam

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Warnings: violence, domestic abuse, non-explicit smut

Chapter warnings: mention of blood and injuries

Chapter word count: 5.1k

A/N: I started this fic all the way back in April, when we first got the news that Joe was cast as Caracalla in "Gladiator 2". I did a ton of research, read books and academic papers about Caracalla and his reign, the whole shebang. Then in July, we got the confirmation that Joe played Geta instead, but by then, I'd already written about 30k words and didn't want to throw it away. Since I never was going to follow the movie anyway (no spoilers here!), I thought, OK, if the great Ridley Scott wasn't going to be historically accurate, then neither am I! So I replaced "Caracalla" with "Geta", changed a few details, and here we are.

The biggest change I made is that Geta was the one that killed Caracalla, not the other way around (this is a historical fact so it's not a spoiler for the movie.) Their confrontation also followed history (which happened in the presence of their mother, Julia Domna.) The remainder of Geta's reign is based on the real reign of Caracalla - his various military campaigns, the war against Parthia, and his infamous assassination (attempted assassination, in this case) by Justus Martialis while peeing on the side of the road now all happen to Geta. Also, Caracalla is described as sometimes wearing a blonde wig, so my headcanon is that the ginger hair in the movie is a wig as well (sorry Joe, I know you were working that wig for all it's worth, but I can't take it seriously.)

Prologue

Once upon a time, two brothers founded the greatest empire in the world...

He and his brother had grown up with the tale of Romulus and Remus, as any child of Rome would. But unlike other children of Rome, he and his brother had also been told that they would one day inherit the empire that those two brothers had built.

Nobody told them the birth of that empire had come at the price of fratricide. Nobody told them that only one brother was destined to be emperor.

They knew anyway.

The only question was, after the blood had run dry, which one of them would be left standing?

He, for one, refused to wait for an answer. He would find his own. So when the Fates dealt him their blow, he fought back and reclaimed his destiny from them. And as he stood over his brother with the blade still dripping blood in his hand, as he looked at the shocked faces of the Praetorians, as he avoided his mother's horrified eyes, filled with the tears he didn't allow her to shed, he thought he'd done it. He'd had the answer.

"You all saw!" he shouted at them, daring them to contradict him. "You saw what he was going to do, how he was coming for me! I did what I had to do to protect myself!" No one said a word in response. Perhaps they thought, and rightly so, that it would be unwise to oppose a man holding a bloody sword. "He was a tyrant and a would-be murderer," he continued, indicating his brother. "There is to be no mourning of him." His mother flinched, her arms closing instinctively around her son's still-warm body, but she, too, said nothing. "I want his image removed from all paintings, coins melted down, statues destroyed, his name struck from records. Let it be known from this day forward that it is a capital offense to speak or write his name!"

His orders were carried out, of course. He was the Emperor now.

But in wiping all images of his brother off the face of the Earth, he also had to remake his own. They had been so intricately linked, so connected in the minds of the citizens of Rome, two sides of the same monstrous coin, that he had to become someone else to be seen as the true heir, as the sole emperor. Gone were the wig and the makeup. Gone were the flashy clothes and jewelry. He cropped his hair short, grew a beard, and dressed himself in the simple garb of a legionary. He went on campaign after campaign to expand the Empire. Caledonia, Germania, Alexandria, Parthia. He would become a soldier-emperor, like his father. He would become a conqueror, like Alexander the Great. He would build an empire, like Romulus. Because he, like Romulus, was the brother who survived.

Only he didn't expect the price of surviving would be so high.

Chapter 1

The smell of blood was in the air.

As he staggered over the rocky ground, he could smell it all around him, on him, in him, and there was no escaping it. The sharp metallic tang of it brought back unpleasant memories of battlefields, of death and screaming and decay. But this was no battlefield. It was quiet, far too quiet; there was none of the clashes of swords and armors, the panicked whinnying of horses, or the groans of dying men. The only sound was his own ragged breathing and the hammering of pulse in his ears. There were stabbing pains on his back and between his ribs, and it hurt every time he drew a breath. There was a pounding somewhere on the back of his head—he must have hit it when he fell down the slope, though he no longer remembered where that slope was. He no longer remembered anything except for a burning feeling of anger and hatred, almost stronger than the pains of his body, though at whom or what that anger was directed, he didn't know. And underneath it all was a threat of fear. He had never been afraid of anything. Yet now the cold breath of Phobos was on the back of his neck, driving him on, urging him to get away, as far away as he could.

His head felt heavy and light at the same time. More than once, he stumbled over a rock and went down on his hands and knees. That was when he realized he was clutching a dagger in his hand, a dagger sticky with blood—his own or someone else's, he no longer remembered either. He pushed himself up by the hilt of the dagger and continued on. His lungs burned, his skin was icy cold despite the warm spring sunshine, and his limbs were so numb he was afraid the dagger might slip from his fingers. He must not let that happen. That dagger was important somehow. And he walked on, over the rocks and the uneven ground and the thick undergrowth.

He came across a stream, its banks overflowing from the winter rain. He still had the presence of mind to tuck the dagger into his belt before plunging in. The water was much deeper than he'd expected. His feet went out from under him. The pains in his back and his ribs melted into one scorching spear that went through him from chest to shoulder blades, and he had no strength left to fight the current. A branch of driftwood floated past. He held on to it, by instinct rather than a conscious desire to live. Doing so hurt his chest, but the water cooled his pounding head and washed away some of the searing pain and the blood, so the smell no longer assaulted his nostrils. He let the stream carry him away.

So this is how it ends, he thought, feeling blood and life drain out of him. This little stream was to be his River Styx. Not for him the glorious death of the battlefield. Not for him the quiet, peaceful death after a lifetime of ruling and conquering. Not for him even the sudden, tragic death of a great man cut down in his prime. No, for him would be an ignominious death, befitting an ignominious life. Somehow he'd always known it. This was what the Fates had in store for him.

He never quite lost consciousness, though he didn't know how long he floated. At some point, the light shining through his eyelids lost its brightness, but he couldn't tell if it was because the sun was going down or he was dying.

Hands came down on his shoulders. It brought the pain back, and that was how he knew he was still alive. He'd stopped floating. Someone was hauling him up the bank of the stream, dragging him by the arms. So they'd found him, then. He was dropped unceremoniously over the rocky ground, where he lay motionless, waiting for the soft whisper of a sword being drawn from its sheath, for the final blow to end his misery, for eternal darkness to engulf him at last.

When it never came, he forced his eyes open.

For a moment, he thought he really was dead, and he was facing Charon—a dark shape loomed over him, with fire for eyes and a hairy, oddly-shaped head. The words of the Aeneid, learned from his youth, came to his mind unbidden.

A sordid god: down from his hairy chin;

A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean;

His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;

A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire...

Now he knew he was dying. Since when did he start remembering poetry?

Something warm and moist brushed his face, a snort stirred his wet hair, and the illusion broke. It wasn't Charon that stood over him, but some sort of animal, perhaps a horse. The fiery eyes moved, and he realized they were a torch, held in the hand of a person—a real person, with a cowl covering the head, keeping the face in the shadow. Savior or executioner?

He twisted his head to avoid the animal's inquisitive nose. Even such a tiny movement hurt. A pair of small feet, clad in old leather sandals, stood beside him. A pair of slim ankles, brushed by the long hem of a dark gown. A woman's feet.

Gentle hands turned him over. He tried to focus. In the light of the torch, he found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, as green as the hills of Caledonia, as green as the forests of Germania, as green as the water of the Euphrates, eyes that soothed and calmed and took away his pains. 

And, as he looked into those eyes, Emperor Geta, the Imperator Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Augustus, uttered the one word he'd never thought he would say, in all twenty-eight years of his life: "Help."

Darkness took him then.

***

Daphne stared at the soldier lying on the bank of the stream by her feet. He was a soldier, that much she was certain of, despite his lack of armor. It was a good thing too, for he would've sunk to the bottom of the stream had he been wearing all those heavy metal plates. But what had happened to him? How did he come to be here, all bedraggled and bloody? Had there been a battle nearby that she didn't know about? Ever since the previous spring, when war with Parthia had broken out again, Daphne had seen her fair share of soldiers marching through the countryside. Her village was too small, tucked away as it was amongst the hills, to receive much attention from the army, but she'd heard complaints of people from bigger towns who had had their crops taken, their draft animals seized, and their lives disrupted by the war. Even her younger brother, Attikos, had been recruited by the army. He was now serving in a garrison somewhere in the north, and every day her family lived in fear that he would not come back. Daphne, whose own life had been disrupted by another war that took place nearly ten years ago and thousands of miles away, tried her best to ignore the battles that raged on just across the border, knowing there was nothing she could do about them.

But now, it seemed, the battles had found their way to her.

The soldier at her feet let out a groan, and her healer's nature took over. Putting the torch down, she slipped her hands under his arms and lifted him up. The soldier, though muscular, wasn't a big man, and Daphne was strong from all the climbing and walking she had to do every day, so with only some grunting and heaving, she managed to put him on the back of her donkey, Midas, who was hovering helpfully nearby. "Come, Midas," she said, and with the torch in one hand, she led the donkey back to their camp, in one of the many caves that dotted the bottom of the hills.

That spring, as soon as the pistachio trees began putting out their clusters of green blooms tipped with pink, Daphne had left her hut for her bi-annual journey to gather herbs and medicine, while hoping that nobody at the village would be so inconsiderate as to fall ill or go into labor while she was away. It was a journey she had been making with her grandmother since she was old enough to tell wild carrot from poisonous hemlock, and one she'd always looked forward to as a child. For days on end, the two of them would wander up and down the hills and valleys of the Balikh River, searching amongst the new growth that had sprung up after the winter rain, looking for leaves and flowers with healing powers. For Daphne, it had been like playing, running through the plants, gathering up armfuls of fragrant leaves and flowers, cooking on an open fire, sleeping under the stars or in a cave. It was the only playtime she ever had. In the autumn, they would come back for roots and seeds and dry branches, but she loved the spring trip the best.

Now, as a grown woman, Daphne still loved the journey, though she also understood why her grandmother had taken her along all those years ago. It wasn't because Daphne had been that much help, or because her grandmother had wanted to give Daphne a rest from helping her mother and taking care of her brothers. It was simply because the old woman wanted someone to talk to. Back at the village, there were always people coming and going, seeking help. Out here, with nothing but the sky above and the ground beneath her, Daphne sometimes felt as though she was the only person alive in the whole of creation. There was Midas, of course, but as sweet as he was, a donkey was not much company.

So it was with a strange sense of relief and gratitude that Daphne lowered the soldier onto the ground, stoked the fire higher, and cut open his tunic to look at his wounds. Yes, this was something odd and unsettling and perhaps dangerous as well, but at least she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts for the night. She would have company, even if he was unconscious, and more importantly, she would have something to occupy herself with.

The wounds—there were two, one on his back near the shoulder and one between his ribs, just below his chest—were deep but clean, clearly made by a blade. Whatever had happened to him, the soldier had certainly been favored by Fortuna. His cloak had softened the blow, and the blade had only gone through the fleshy part of his shoulder. At the front, the blade had also been deflected somehow and had slipped between his ribs instead of burying itself in his heart. There was no blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was shallow but steady, meaning his lung had been spared. The soldier's trip down the stream had cleaned the wounds, leaving only a small trickle of blood.

Daphne opened her jar of vinegar, which she always brought along in case she found some plants that needed preserving, cut a strip of linen from the soldier's tunic, which was ruined anyway, dipped it in the vinegar, and carefully cleaned the wounds again. There was also a rather nasty bruise on the back of his head, but that would have to wait. Thank the gods she had her suturing needle and thread with her. She'd never gone on a long journey without them, not after the time she fell down a ravine and cut her foot. Had she been further away from home then, she would not have made it back. Yet another reason her grandmother had insisted on bringing along a helper.

The soldier's flesh trembled and twitched under the vinegar cloth. Daphne, bending over the wounds, didn't see him move. She only heard a hiss of steel and jumped back just in time to avoid the blade as it flashed in the firelight, right across her face. The soldier shot up, a dagger clutched in his hand, his eyes wide open, dark and enormous in the dimness of the cave. They were blank and unfocused, and she knew he saw nothing at all.

"Murderer!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "Traitor!"

Something hot and wet oozed down her cheek. Daphne clamped a hand to it and felt pain blaze across her cheekbone. The soldier's dagger had cut her. Had she been a fraction of a heartbeat slower, it would've taken out her nose or even her eye.

"You fool!" she shouted. Her grandmother would have something to say about the wisdom of arguing with a delirious man wielding a dagger, but Daphne had no time for wisdom at the moment. "You utter fool! I'm trying to save your life!" Blood was dripping down the side of her face, warm and sticky on her jaw.

The soldier wasn't listening. He was still ranting and raving about murderers and traitors, and something else in Latin, which Daphne couldn't understand. Then he tried to push himself to his feet, only to collapse in a heap by the fire. The dagger clattered out of his hand.

Daphne approached him cautiously, holding her injured cheek. He was motionless, though his chest was still moving up and down in weak, rapid breaths. Not wanting to take any risk, she picked up the dagger and tucked it into her pack, and, as extra precaution, bound the soldier's hands with some rope. Then, after wrapping some bandages around her cheek to stop the bleeding, she put more wood into the fire to stoke it higher, so its light filled the cave and reached even the furthest corner. Under that light, she sutured the soldier's wounds, using small, careful stitches just the way her grandmother had taught her. Once this was done, she went out again, torch in hand, passed the snoozing Midas by the mouth of the cave, and started searching the ground along the stream. She had seen some early-blooming goldenrods there—she never bothered to gather them, since they were abundant all around the hills of her village and in her own garden, but now she filled her mantle with the small yellow flowers.

The soldier was still unconscious by the time she came back. Good. She didn't want him awake and squirming and tearing the stitches. She crushed the goldenrod blooms and mixed them with vinegar into a bitter-smelling poultice, put it on his wounds and his bruise, and wrapped them in clean bandages. Some of the poultice she saved to put on her own wound as well, though the suturing would have to wait until the morning, when she could see her face more clearly.

With a sigh, Daphne sat back by the fire, trying not to wince as the vinegary poultice pressed into her cut. Her patient was lying peacefully enough, covered in her blanket, though he still writhed and grimaced from time to time.

She looked at him more closely, with curiosity. He was not a young man, though he was not yet old either, perhaps close to thirty. The same age as her husband, Galen, had he lived. But this man was no common foot soldier like her Galen had been. For all the ordinariness of his clothing, she could tell he was a patrician. It was there in the fine wool of his tunic, much finer than the coarse undyed linen of a soldier's, in the soft leather of his boots, in the gleaming buckles of his belt, in the carved ring on the little finger of his left hand. It was there in his face as well, in the high forehead framed by short dark curls, in the eyebrows that seemed locked in a permanent scowl above his fine-shaped nose, in the strong mouth and firm jaw covered by a neatly trimmed beard. Those noble features only heightened the riddle of the man, a riddle Daphne had no hope of solving any time soon.

Well, a good night's rest would bring clarity and wisdom in the morning, as her grandmother had always said. Leaving the mysterious soldier on the other side of the fire, Daphne wrapped herself in her mantle, lay down on the hard floor of the cave, and fell into a tired sleep, her cheek still smarting.

***

The fire had burned down to embers and the pale gray light of dawn was shining in from the mouth of the cave when Daphne was wakened by a shuffling sound. It was the soldier, who was pulling weakly at his bound wrists. His eyes were open, and though they were still dazed, some of the delirium in them had faded.

"What's the meaning of this?" he croaked. "Who are you? What have you done to me?!"

"Please, calm yourself," said Daphne, scrambling to her feet and holding up a hand. "I have to tie you up because you were tossing about. Calm yourself before you tear your wounds open. You're safe."

"Safe?" he repeated, almost to himself. "No... not safe... not safe..." The delirium was settling in again. She had to get a few things out of him before he lost consciousness or worse.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Which legion do you belong to? Is your camp close by?" He showed no sign of hearing her and only looked about the cave with wide, panic-stricken eyes. Daphne stepped closer and pulled her mantle down so he could see her face more clearly. "Is there anyone I can go to for help?"

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist so tightly it hurt. He fixed those enormous eyes on her. "No!" he shouted, though it came out little more than a rasping whisper. "Tell no one! Danger... must hide..." Then his eyes glazed over, and he dropped to the floor, fingers slowly loosening from her wrist.

Daphne made her way back to the other side of the dying fire and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rubbing her sore wrist. The soldier's fear was contagious. What had happened to him was no mere battle wounds, she could see that now. He had rambled about murderers and traitors... but was he the victim of murderers and traitors, or was he himself a murderer and traitor? Was he in danger, or was he the danger?

It was a two days' journey to the nearest town, Carrhae, and four days back to her village. The sensible thing to do was to bring him to Carrhae and leave him there for the authority to deal with. But with his injuries, he may not survive the trip. And even if they made it to Carrhae, a lone soldier, very possibly a deserter or even a turncoat, would not merit much attention. The magistrate there may leave him to die. Daphne wasn't sure she could live with that on her conscience. As she watched the unconscious soldier, she couldn't help thinking of her Galen, dead these eight years and buried somewhere in the cold, barbaric hills of Caledonia. What if something like this had happened to Galen as well? What if he'd been separated from his fellow soldiers and stumbled through a foreign land, lost and injured? And what if some woman had also happened upon him, but had decided to let him die because she thought he was too much trouble? What if this soldier had someone waiting for him?

With such thoughts circling around her head like a swarm of angry bees, there was no going back to sleep for her. As soon as the light turned from gray to white, Daphne went to the stream to fetch a pan of water, stopping briefly to check on Midas, who was contentedly cropping the grass around the mouth of the cave.

Her reflection in the stream made Daphne realize why the soldier had been so frightened upon seeing her. With dried blood down one side of her cheek, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, and her hair all wild, she must have looked, to him, like one of the Furies. Returning to the cave, she tried to stitch the cut on her cheek as best she could, using the pan of water as a mirror. It was going to leave a scar for sure. Oh well. She had never been a great beauty anyway.

She then boiled the water to make some porridge for breakfast. As she ate, she dug around in her store of foraged plants and herbs and found some valerian, which she steeped into a tea to help the soldier sleep. He swallowed the tea easily enough, though Daphne knew what he really needed was some tincture of poppy, which was stored in a precious glass vial on the highest shelf back in her hut, four days away. But could she bring him back there? The villagers would not take kindly to a stranger.

Leaving the soldier in the cave, Daphne returned to the stream with Midas by her side. Mysteriously wounded men or not, she was determined to finish her trip. Throughout the morning, she worked hard on the bank, cutting down armfuls of young willow, as these large trees were of better quality than the scraggy bushes near her village. She took care not to stray too far from the cave and returned from time to time to check on the soldier, who remained unconscious. In the light of day, he was looking very pale. Whatever she was going to do with him, she had to decide quickly. Although his wounds were not fatal, he had lost a lot of blood, and if the wounds became poisoned, there was little she could do for him out here.

Daphne was busy stripping the leaves from the willow branches to get at the medicinal bark when Midas gave a warning bray. She turned around and saw two soldiers striding toward her from upstream. She quickly pulled the mantle over her head to conceal her face, while still keeping an eye on them. They were dressed much more elaborately than her patient, in chainmail and helmets, and carrying swords and shields emblazoned with a scorpion. Dressed for battle. What kind of battle could they expect here, in this lonely valley amongst these rocky hills of Osroene?

The soldiers had spotted her and were quickening their steps. She remained where she was, with her back to them, feigning oblivion.

"You there! Old woman!" shouted one of the soldiers in Greek. Old woman? They must have been fooled by her dark mantle and her hunched form. Part of Daphne was offended, but another part of her was glad. She didn't like to think what such beastly men would do to a lone woman in the wilderness. "On your feet! We have some questions for you!"

Daphne gripped her knife more tightly in her palm, concealing it between the folds of her chiton. With her other hand, she pulled herself up by holding on to a willow tree, making sure to keep her back stooped, trying to appear like an old, decrepit hag. 

"Have you seen a wounded man around here?" one of the soldiers asked. He was young, with a face like a rat. He took off his helmet to wipe at his forehead, revealing thin tuffs of pale blonde hair.

Daphne hesitated. These men could be her patient's fellow legionaries, and she could simply hand him over to them and not have to worry about him any longer. However, she was now seeing them more clearly, and the brutal, fierce look on their faces made her knees tremble. She could be handing her patient to his executioners.

"Wounded?" she said in a low rasp. "Why would there be any wounded men around here? Was there a battle? Have the Parthians invaded us?"

"Calm down, you silly old hag," the other soldier said. He was older and darker. A scar ran from his left eye down his cheek, making him look even more vicious. "There was no battle," he continued. "Our fellow soldier simply—had an accident while marching, and we lost track of him. We're trying to find him before he gets seriously hurt. If you've seen him, tell us, and the army will reward you handsomely."

A likely story. Those wounds were no accident. Daphne shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I haven't seen a soul."

The two soldiers glanced at each other in exasperation and something else, too. Fear? Worry?

"He can't have gone this far," the blonde soldier said. "If Martialis had managed to wound him before he was killed—"

"Quiet, you idiot!" the dark one hissed. He pulled his partner away from Daphne's earshot, but some of his angry words floated back to her. "This is your fault! If you'd gone with Martialis to make sure the deed was done, none of this would've happened! Now we're trampling all over this Gods-forsaken land, searching for a needle in a haystack..."

So Martialis—whoever he was, or had been, by the sound of it—must have been the one who attacked her patient. And then her patient had killed Martialis and escaped? Daphne wasn't quite sure what the soldiers' conversation meant, but she was sure that there was some conspiracy here, and those men were in on it.

Her heart stopped. The two soldiers had noticed the cave and were making their way toward it. If they found her patient, they would know she'd lied...

"I wouldn't go poking around in there if I were you, young masters," she called out. The soldiers paused near the mouth of the cave and turned back to frown at her. She bent down a little, so that her cowl fell over her face. "These hills are teeming with scorpions and venomous snakes, and they like nothing more than a cool, dark place like that to hide from the sun," she continued. "They would not take kindly to being wakened from their nap."

The soldiers drew back, peering into the dark of the cave warily as if they could see these snakes and scorpions lurking there.

"I told you, he can't have gone far," the blonde, rat-faced soldier repeated to his partner. "We would've seen him by now. Unless he'd fallen into the stream. And if he had, he's done for anyway."

The dark-haired soldier lifted his heavy mail away from his neck and looked at the sun, which was getting higher in the sky and burning hotter. "Yes, I don't think anyone can survive such wounds out here," he said. "Let's go."

They went back the way they came and eventually disappeared behind the rocky hills. Daphne let out a breath of relief. Carrying her bundles of willow bark, she returned to the cave, where her patient was still lying by the remnants of the fire, breathing his shallow breaths and wincing in his sleep. Daphne sighed. It looked like she was going to have to cut her trip short this year.

"Don't make me regret this," she said, though he couldn't hear her.

Chapter 2

A note on the setting: I know that based on the location of the story (Osroene, now southeastern Turkey), the people were more likely to be Mesopotamian than Greek, but I don't know much about Mesopotamian culture and the research overwhelmed me a bit, so I went with Greek for simplicity's sake. A later chapter does include an explanation as to why there is a Greek community in the middle of Mesopotamia (I doubt anyone would care, but I'm a stickler for historical accuracy, even in an alternate history fic.)

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 (as usual, if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[whencyclopedia]

Theodosian Walls

The Theodosian Walls are the fortifications of Constantinople, capital of the Byzantine Empire, which were first built during the reign of Theodosius II (408-450 CE). Sometimes known as the Theodosian Long Walls, they built upon and extended earlier fortifications so that the city became impregnable to enemy sieges for 800 years. The fortifications were the largest and strongest ever built in either the ancient or medieval worlds. Resisting attacks and earthquakes over the centuries, the walls were particularly tested by Bulgar and Arab forces who sometimes laid siege to the city for years at a time. Sections of the walls can still be seen today in modern Istanbul and are the city's most impressive surviving monuments from Late Antiquity.

Making the City Safe

Although the city had benefitted from previous emperors building fortifications, especially Constantine I when he moved his capital from Rome to the east, it is Emperor Theodosius II who is most associated with Constantinople's famous city walls. It was, though, Theodosius I (r. 379-395 CE) who began the project of improving the capital's defences by building the Golden Gate of Constantinople in November 391 CE. The massive gate was over 12 metres high, had three arches, and a tower either side. It was entirely built of marble and decorated with statues and was topped with a sculpture of a chariot pulled by four elephants. The Golden Gate probably marked the start of triumphal processions which ended in the Hippodrome. Two decades later, Theodosius II was alarmed at the recent fall of Rome to the Goths in 410 CE and set about building a massive line of triple fortification walls to ensure Constantinople never followed the same fate. The man credited with supervising their construction is Theodosius' Praetorian Prefect Anthemius. The walls extended across the peninsula from the shores of the Sea of Marmara to the Golden Horn, eventually being fully completed in 439 CE and stretching some 6.5 kilometres. They expanded the enclosed area of the city by 5 square kilometres.

Continue reading...

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s 'Lost' Imperial Palace 'Domus Tiberiana' Reopens

Until recently a crumbling and off-limits ruin near the famous Colosseum, the Domus Tiberiana palace — built in the first century AD and beloved by Nero — hopes to once again take its place as one of the city’s top tourist attractions.

The ancient palace sits on Palatine Hill — the city’s oldest hill, overhanging Rome —from where imperial dynasties ruled for centuries. But over the years, the site fell into disrepair and in the 1970s, the Domus Tiberiana site was shut due to the structural instability of some of the ruins. The closure left behind what many Romans described as a “black hole” in the capital’s archaeological heart.

Now, after a six-year makeover, the palace has reopened its doors as a “diffuse museum,” with findings and frescoes scattered across the site to provide visitors with an insight into the palace’s ancient grandeur.

And it was grand. The Domus Tiberiana was Rome’s first imperial palace, built by the emperor Tiberius who combined and incorporated the pre-existing noble mansions built on the hill. Occupying over four hectares, the palace featured residences alongside large gardens, places of worship and rooms for the emperor’s Praetorian guard.

As the seat of Rome’s power and politics, Domus Tiberiana held a prime location, high above the Palatine and Roman Forums, offering its occupants a “balcony view of the city.” Over time, the Domus was embellished and enlarged by other emperors including Nero, who was crowned on its steps aged just 16, in 54 AD.

Alfonsina Russo, director of the Colosseum’s archaeological park (in which Domus Tiberiana falls) and lead archaeologist on the renovation, said that ancient antiquities, many exceptionally well-preserved, were unearthed during the project.

The artifacts — bright stuccos, frescoes, amphorae, potteries, looms, terracotta, and divinity statues related to the cults of Isis, Dionysius and Mithras — offer visitors a trip through time, said Russo.

“They make this place — formerly (inhabited) by aristocratic families, then Roman emperors — feel alive again,” she said. “There are seven exhibition rooms full of extraordinary finds, starting with those preceding the original construction of the palace when aristocrats lived in mansions before Tiberius subsumed them into the Domus.”

Among the newly-exposed and frescoes are some of the earliest paintings of lemons (considered an exotic fruit in Ancient Rome, as they hailed from the Far East) and a depiction of a gladiator, proving that the era’s gladiatoral games were appreciated by rich families, explained Russo.

The imperial palace remained in use until the 7th century, when it became the papal residence of John VII. In the mid-16th century, the aristocratic Farnese family — who were powerful local landowners — built the lavish Orti Farnesiani gardens on the site, adorning it with ornaments and sculptures of nymphs, satyrs and fauns.

“This monument speaks of history,” Russo added. “We have restored (Domus Tiberiana) to its past splendor, but more work lies ahead.”

Indeed, painstaking efforts have been made to blend old and new. A series of majestic, reddish-brown vaulted arches that greet visitors having been carefully reconstructed with the same materials as ancient Romans used in the past.

“What makes this revamped Domus unique is the architectural style,” said Russo. “We managed to use original materials to reinforce and strengthen the handmade 15-meter (50ft) tall front arches (which run alongside the palace’s) ancient paving.”

It has certainly caught the public’s attention. Since reopening at the end of September, Domus Tiberiana has attracted some 400,000 visitors, a “huge success,” said Russo, adding that she believes that this incarnation of the Domus Tiberiana offers visitors the most “evocative” visit in generations.

Archaeologist and scholar of ancient Rome Giorgio Franchetti saidN that, in the reopening of the Domus Tiberiana complex, Rome has “recovered a lost jewel.”

“The Palatine Hill has always been the stage of Rome’s power politics,” he said in an interview. “Tiberius likely chose this spot to build the palace as it was where his family residence stood. There aren’t many places like the Domus Tiberiana where you can really breathe the past.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

[spotlightstory]

Trump says he will “fire” America’s military generals and replace them with MAGA loyalists, echoing Project 2025

Link to Reddit video Best Comment: "Just going to remind everyone that, after Trump lost the election, General Milley and the Joint Chiefs of Staffs were concerned that Trump was attempting a military coup and took steps to prevent it.

They were joined in this concern by all living former defense Secretaries, Republican and Democrat, who flouted two hundred years of military tradition by posting an open letter announcing that the election was over, and warning military people everywhere not to obey any orders aimed at preventing the peaceful transfer of power.

Just in case people don't realize this -- these are, you know. Pentagon people. THE Pentagon people.  These people know things that we don't know.

So, let's be really clear here. Trump is promising an old-fashioned Praetorian guard COUP here. That's what's happening right in front of our eyes. I don't understand why anyone is talking about anything else."

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: The Spies

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments, character death, massive angst, PTSD, just really fucking sad and depressing

------

An evil out in the galaxy, the remnants of a destroyed empire forced to hide in the shadows slowly rebuilding until they can make their return. A man in imperial armor flanked by several soldiers wearing white armor and red sensors. He enters a laboratory full of tanks holding deformed and growing lifeforms, entering a conference chamber that was already going on via holograms.

“The New Republic is vulnerable, but we must be cautious and show no sign of our true strength.” One of the imperial officers states.

“Easy for you to say, Captain. There’s a fortune to be had plundering the hyperspace lanes,” A bald male commander disagrees as the man in the room actually watches the disagreement.

“Commander, your hit-and-run operations are gaining too much notice,” Captain Gilad Pellaeon reminds the commander, “If we are perceived as anything other than a group of unorganized remnant warlords, the New Republic will increase their efforts to hunt us down.”

“There are citizens loyal to the Empire on every planet in this galaxy,” A female officer speaks up, “They’re already getting sick of this New Republic and its rules and regulations.”

Another bearded officer nods agreeing to the woman’s statement “And if we give them a show of strength, they will rally behind us.” The woman nods but Pelleaon shakes his head

“But that strength must not be wasted. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s return will herald in the re-emergence of our military, and provide Commandant Hux enough time to deliver on Project Necromancer.” Pelleaon mentions the formidable Admiral. Hux smiles and the imperial warlord steps forward and Hux motions to speak.

“Captain Pellaeon, you always speak with much authority, and yet, I see,” He scoffs looking around, “Once again, that Grand Admiral Thrawn is missing from your delegation. Any word on when he will be able to participate in the Shadow Council?”

Pelleaon scoffs before replying, “With respect, our one hope for success relies upon the secrecy of his return.”

“Captain, secrets are my stock-in-trade,” The warlord reminds him, “I hear whispers from one end of the galaxy to another, and never a word of Thrawn. You have spoken of his imminent return…perhaps, it’s time we look to new leadership.”

“Hear, hear.” The female imperial officer agrees and Hux nods, “Project Necromancer is in place for that.” He asks the warlord.

“Yes, Commandant.” “What has become of Doctor Pershing and the research you promised us?” Hux asks and the warlord is silent, “Doctor Pershing was captured by the New Republic. His research is lost. For now, at least.” He says and Hux nods,

“I also hear whispers, Gideon. You held Pershing and were attempting your own experiments on Nevarro.” He questions the warlord, Moff Gideon. 

“The creation of clones is your obsession, not mine. I account for what goes on in my sector, no more, no less,” Gideon looks around at the council, “The same can be said of every member of this Council.”

“Yes.” “Of course.” “That’s right.” “Yes.”

“And yet, we individually scrape and claw resources awaiting the grand plan to take shape, while you and Pellaeon amass countless resources and equipment which should be shared,” Gideon observes each warlord and Hux nods holding a datapad, “Oh, we already received your request. Three Praetorian Guards,” He scoffs, “Sounds like someone is concerned about an assassination attempt.” Gideon is silently his hand scratching his chin feeling the scars that litter his face. It was more of a second chance of an assassination attempt.

“And he thinks I’m being the flashy one,” Pelleaon remarks, “But following your first attempt it’s remarkable you’re still standing today.” The news had spread quickly through the empire of Gideon’s capture before he was soon rescued. The warlord with control over Nevarro and eyes all over the Outer Rim. But he had a key asset to taking control of a vital planet that could bring the return of the empire and it was thwarted by a man in beskar armor but the scars that would stain his skin forever caused by a young girl with abilities assumed to be extinct.

You stand over him the Darksaber in hand ready to deliver the killing blow. The rage and wrath you were going to enact your revenge.

“And reinforcements for your TIE interceptor squadron,” Hux asks and Gideon lowers his hand from the scars marring his face pushing away those memories, “And… bombers.”

“Yes, I see. And what is your security concern?” Hux asks and Gideon moves towards the middle of the room, “Mandalorians.” The council is confused by this information.

“What? They continue to be an issue?” An officer asks and Gideon nods, “They do. I am increasingly confident that they are preparing to retake their home world of Mandalore. They have a Jedi among their ranks as well that is Mandalorian too.” The council knew of this Jedi girl that had been involved with Moff Gideon but the news she is Mandalorian as well the pieces connected. The name whispered in alleys, through bounty hunters, even the New Republic was looking for her, is seen as the person who took down the Warlord Moff Gideon. Of Mandalorian and Jedi blood. The granddaughter of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze and current wielder of the Darksaber.

“A resurgent Mandalore would hamper our efforts.” Pelleaon remarks and the warlords a nervous about this news.

“Which is why we need to stamp them out now.” The others agree as he meets Pelleaon’s gaze, “You’ll have your reinforcements and your guard.”

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“Long Live the Empire!”

All repeat as Gideon leaves the council with only one thought in mind. While the Mandalorians were a threat to him only one stood out to him, a man who was willing to tear the galaxy apart for two individuals and his daughter that wouldn’t let someone stop her from finishing off the warlord. Din Djarin and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze were a threat to him but to finish this once and for all both parties need to be separated. The young princess would have wished she accepted his offer so long ago…

The planet Nevarro is serene and peaceful when the loud rumble and citizens look at the sky in shock, High Magistrate Greef Karga works in his office when he notices the tremor seeing a shadow overcast his city. “High Magistrate! High Magistrate!” The protocol droid enters the office, “An Imperial shuttle is advancing over the city.”

The Magistrate moves to the balcony viewing the large fleet over Nevarro City, “First, that’s a light cruiser. And second, it’s not Imperial.” “With apologies, sir. According to my data, it is.” The droid says from its information, and it wasn’t wrong technically.

“No, no. It was an Imperial ship. Look at the markings,” On the bottom of the light cruiser is the large design of the mythosaur, “See, those, my friend, are Mandalorian privateers. I’ll bet you, half that fleet was captured from the Empire.”

“So, they’re on our side then?” The droid asks and Greef nods, “I should hope so. They’re our welcomed guests. Come.” From the Mandalorian covert, the Armorer emerges from her tent other members of the Tribe gaze at the approaching Mandalorian fleet in wonder. On the Gauntlet the four of you fly before the fleet approaching the covert,

“I hope these two groups get along. They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.” Bo-Katan says warily, with the new fleet and the new owner of the Darksaber a lot of pressure was on her.

“They will if they wanna survive.” You say trying to soothe her worries as the Gauntlet and the rest of the fleet land. Exiting the ship Bo-Katan led followed by her followers as they move forward as the Mandalorians of the Child of the Watch stand on opposite sides.

“Take the children inside.” Paz Vizsla orders his son and the boy is leading the children away from the situation between adults. You spot amongst the tribe the copper and white armor relieved to see him again. Bo-Katan and her followers remove their helmets as silence fills the area the tension between two groups of different beliefs. You were certainly a fight was to break out when a clanging fills the air you sigh of relief as the Armorer lowers her hammer and tongs.

“Welcome, fellow Mandalorians,” She greets the newcomers, “We invite you to make camp. Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

It was uncomfortable and tense leading to the feast of the animosity between two tribes as you were pulled away, meeting the new IG-11 when Din and Grogu returned inside the droid while you were with Bo-Katan and the Armorer. You caught glances of the Mandalorian you wished to see but you were too far apart and when he left to join the hunting party for the feast you didn’t see him until night. A large bonfire was used to cook the animal but also to light the area, the two fractions divided a very awkward meal with only half eating the other not allowed to eat before others. They talk amongst their own clans before Bo-Katan rises to stand knowing she has to say something,

“Mandalorians. It is time to retake our home world. Even though the planet is not cursed, there are still dangers. Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above the atmosphere.” She explains as they all listen in, “Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore. We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others. I need volunteers from both tribes.” She says and silence fills the encampment of those averting their eyes from their technical leader’s gaze. You look around before making eye contact with Bo-Katan who tries hiding her nerves but you can feel them.

“I will go,” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan nods gratefully, “Y/n and Grogu as well.” He says and Grogu coos while you nod. It’s quiet once again before you see Koska Reeves grab her helmet holding it to her side as she stands.

“I will go.” She says and Bo-Katan nods now having two from each tribe, “I will go.” Woves says with a nod rising to stand.

“I will go.” Paz Vizsla states standing up as well his gaze meeting Woves as they watch each other. “I will go.” You hear Kaz’s voice and you spot him standing his gaze meets yours and he gives a small nod and you return one back. Soon others are standing volunteering themselves before the Armorer speaks up, “I will go as well.” The scouting party created the rest of the night a bit tense but lighten up.

You don’t even wait for Bo-Katan to return to your small group, you’re already up moving away from the adults towards the person you’ve been dying to see since returning to Nevarro. Din sighs watching you disappear amongst the Mandalorians seeing where that boy Kaz once was is now gone from his spot too. Bo-Katan pats his shoulder as she takes your seat, “She’s going to be alright, besides it’s good for her to be a normal teen for once well I guess adult.” It didn’t seem real that you were an adult, just yesterday Din met the girl on Arvala-7 and Bo-Katan didn’t know it was her grand-niece while helping hijack an imperial cruiser.

“I know..” Din sighs breaking apart pieces of meat for Grogu to eat who accepts it with open hands, he spots you and your Mandalorian off to the side beside the tents your hands holding the sides of Kaz’s helmet. You speak to him with a large smile across your face as he presses his helmet against your forehead. “I don’t want her to have her heartbroken…I wouldn’t know what to do. I barely got her back from Gideon.”

“Kid…hey cyar’ika..will you please look at me?”

He calls out to you, he feels like he lost two of his children, one with the Jedi that had long left and the girl in front of him but seemed to be millions of lightyears away. Moff Gideon was removed from the light cruiser going off with Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune on the Slave I. Leaving himself, you, Bo-Katan, and Reeves as they went to meet up with the other Mandalorians. The female Mandalorian that was apparently your grand-aunt had allowed you two to stay willing to bring them anywhere in the galaxy before they went off for their plans to reclaim Mandalore though without the Darksaber that was now in your possession.

Your eyes were glazed over but they seemed to be focused on an item gripped in your hand as your breathing suddenly picks up. Din looks realizing the weapon in your grasp, prying from your strong grip and throwing it off in the private room you two were given. Din still hadn’t put on his helmet there was no reason to try to hide at the moment, he had already done the worse thing any Mandalorian of his creed could do. Remove one's helmet in front of a living person and he did it for you and the child.

“It’s gone..okay it’s gone.” He whispers holding your face between his palms forcing you to look at him and you barely even register him tears welling in your eyes. The blood drips to the floor from your fingers as it freely bled, your knuckles were shattered no doubt just drenched in your blood and the Moff’s. Your clothes were bloody parts of them ripped and tattered a large open hole was at your stomach and on your back and he assumes it was from…he didn’t want to think of that. He still wasn’t sure how you were standing before him and he thanked his gods and the Force that comes from you. Blood speckles your face and your messy hair as he tries swiping at the dried blood as a tear slides down your cheek wetting some dried blood before another one and they pour down your face like a waterfall. Din felt helpless seeing your innocence completely stripped away from you. Your lip wobbles as a strained whine like a wounded animal is held in your throat as you try not to break down. Din feels his own eyes burn but forces his own sadness to be pushed down as you choke back a cry. It was repressed as you hold in your cries your shoulders shake and before Din can try comforting you hit the ground a cry of pure terror comes out. Din hits the ground with you as you frantically start rubbing at your arms tearing at your skin blood spewing from your deep scratches.

“get it off…get it off…Get it off!” You scream as you try to rid the blood that marks you and Din has to wrestle with your arms to pull them away from each other and from you to stop causing harm to yourself. “Stop it Y/n! Stop!” Din yells fearfully of you being so terrified of Moff Gideon’s blood on you that you were hurting yourself in your panic. Tears blind your vision as he looks over you forcing your hands into one of his and cups your cheek with the free one. He could only describe pure fear in your voice and your face as Moff Gideon continues to plague you despite the fact he was lightyears away from you. “He tried to…” You break down as he pulls you into his arms holding you in the crook of his neck your arms clutching his cape.

“Oh cyar’ika…I got you…you’re safe..it’s just us.” He reassures you blinking away the tears from his eyes as you sob in the safety of his arms, “Din.” You whimper as he presses a kiss to the top of your head whispering into your hair.

“You’re safe…you’re alright. I’m not leaving…I got you cyar’ika.” It was a promise…a vow to always protect you to make sure this never happens again. To never see another tear be shed, shelter you from the harshness of the world, to keep yours in his embrace safe in his arms. He would put his life on the line, let himself die, and break his creed a thousand times over to make sure you never go through this kind of pain ever.

Din watches you speak to that boy as he holds you in your embrace Bo-Katan sees the nervousness and fear coming off the bounty hunter, “She can’t go through it again. That kind of pain isn’t meant for her…this life isn’t meant for her.” He voices his worries. He would bring you away from here, hide you away from the world even if you would hate him for the rest of your life if it keeps you safe he was willing to. But he couldn’t be selfish…he couldn’t live in a world where you hated him, and they were so close to the end. Returning home to Mandalore, start anew and when that time came he would hang up his blaster and sit back and watch you grow older and be a father, not a bounty hunter. So he watches you be happy in this moment of serenity praying to the highest being to keep that boy safe for the sake of your heart.

The next morning after bidding goodbye to Magistrate Greef Karga, the fleet, and its Mandalorians depart from Nevarro to Mandalore. The Mandalorians sit in the hull for the drop while you, Grogu, Bo-Katan, and the Armorer sit in the cockpit. Both the N-1 and X-Wing left on the light cruiser and R4 sadly stays on the cruiser. He was a bit disappointed but you reassured him, he would be the first person you bring when you return from the scouting party. All the ships exit hyperspace reaching Mandalore as the Gauntlet heads towards the stormy surface, “Scouting party descending to surface. We’ll lose comms shortly.” Bo-Katan says speaking to the people in the back as the ship rattles entering the thunderstorms that surround the planet’s atmosphere. Soon you’re breaking through the storm flying over the destroyed cities of your homeworld.

The doors slide open as Din enters holding onto your seat to stabilize himself, “They’re ready.” Bo-Katan presses on a keypad, “Secure infill zone.” Soon the Mandalorians depart to the planet you remain hovering over before you hear a transmission come through, “Gauntlet, landing zone secure.” Woves announces and the ship lands the five of you disembarking. Grogu controls IG-12 as you touch the glassy surface.

“Somewhere below is where our ancient capital once stood,” Bo-Katan tells the other Mandalorians, “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers. We start scouting in that direction.” She points in the direction of the sunset.

“Form up.” Your expedition begins walking in pairs through the terrain, you walk beside Kaz in front of Din and the Armorer. A large distance is covered before you sense something. You pause and Kaz and Din look at you confused.

“Kid?” “Something’s heading towards us.” You comment to the Mandalorians sensing a large presence looking out and seeing something on the horizon, “There, on the horizon.” You point out as a large land ship with wheels approaches.

“Nite Owls.” Bo-Katan commands and the Nite Owls quickly get into position the rest of you holding your weapons ready for whoever it was. “Flanking left.” You were more surprised about the fact that people were actually here and if so how did they survive the Purge? The ship comes rumbling to a stop a distance away before a voice shouts out.

“Do you have food?” “We do.” Bo-Katan replies and another man onboard shouts, “You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

“I should hope so.” Bo-Katan says, “They’re Mandalorians.” The Armorer says.

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?” Your party is silent as Bo-Katan decides to confirm, “It is.” Suddenly three Mandalorians activate their jetpacks leaving their ship and landing in front of the scouting party. They remove their helmets revealing tired but hopeful faces.

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts. Your group found itself on the ship eating dinner only those who took off their helmets at. You sat between Din and Kaz with Bo-Katan at the head of the table.

“They intercepted any ships they saw leaving. They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice over. They punished us as a warning to the whole galaxy because we refused to surrender.” The Captain of the landship explains and Bo-Katan grows quiet.

“That’s not true….I did surrender.” She says and the Mandalorians went silent before whispering amongst each other, “After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon. The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire. In exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared. That is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber. I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people. And then he betrayed me and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.” She explains. The air is tense as the truth of the destruction of this planet is revealed.

The Captain swallows harshly turning to the still helmet Mandalorians, “How did these others survive?” “We were hidden on the moon of Concordia.” The Armorer explains.

“Are you Death Watch?” The Captain questions a bit suspicious of the terrorist group that went into known hiding on Concordia, “Death Watch exists no longer. It shattered into many warring factions.”

“Our people have suffered time and again. From division and squabbling factions,” Bo-Katan says looking over the table, “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.”

“And what does a Jedi have involved amongst our kind? The last time Jedi and Mandalorians fought side by side was the Seige of Mandalore during the Clone Wars,” The Captain says remembering fighting there as well, “I thought the Jedi were all killed off?”

“That is true…I make no sense here. To some, I am an enemy..to others a reminder of the past allies you once fought alongside,” You say holding your hands over the table, “I am here to return to my home planet and see the rise of Mandalore and its people. My father once wished for Mandalore to be a planet for all Mandalorians despite which fraction or division they came from to have a homeworld, no matter if you are Mandalorian by blood or Mandalorian by Creed.” Your gaze meets Bo-Katan's and then Din’s.

“Though I no longer wield the Darksaber….I fight alongside my grand-aunt for the chance that we and the Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy may all return home.” The table is silent surprised and shocked by the words coming from you. The diplomacy and leadership exuding from you, Bo-Katan sees her sister in you with your words.

“You’re…her grand-niece.” The Captain says shocked many of the Mandalorians stuck on this planet see the resemblance between you and the redhead. “I am Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.”

You leaned against the railing of a secluded part of the land-ship it was stationed the traveling continuing in the morning. The breeze cooling on your skin as your elbows rest on the wood looking out on the destroyed planet that was the home of your family. “That was a good speech…told you I can see a leader in you.” Kaz’s voice comes from your side as you glance over at him. You hum returning your gaze to the open space of Mandalore, you only wished you could have seen this planet in all its glory.

“Do you ever wish you were here on Mandalore when it was still standing and in all its glory,” You ask and he leans against the railing beside you as he thinks for a second, “I think it would have been nice being on a planet of our people, but I don’t think I would have survived the Purge of Mandalore.” He says honestly and you give him a look.

“That’s morbid.” You say and he chuckles slightly, “No but it also meant we wouldn’t have met. I mean if you were here you would be in the capital as a princess and me just a lowly commoner.” He says teasingly and you shove him producing a laugh from him.

“I am definitely no princess. Maker imagine me in a dress and those uncomfortable shoes!” You ramble and you notice him silent watching you, “What?” He keeps looking at you before shaking his head and looking away, “No you can’t just not tell me!” You grab his arm and he looks down at you.

“Does my princess command me?” You hear the smile on his tone and you roll your eyes, “Yes she does now tell me.” You cross your arms across your chest and he’s quiet before leaning forward and pushing a piece of hair that gets in front of your face.

“I think you would like quite pretty in a dress.” He says and your face flushes and you turn away making him laugh, “What you told me to tell you!” He says between laughter before he spins you around to look at him and he presses his forehead against yours and you close your eyes slightly.

“Naboo.” You say and he leans back looking at you confused, “What?” “I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and plants as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.” You explain and he nods.

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours. He drops his hand seeing your eyes closed his hand wraps around your waist and pulls your closer while the other holds the back of your neck. Your hand plays with the back of his hair the other holds his face as you kiss him. It’s gentle but filled with passion as you both pour in your affection for each other. There wasn’t any room left between you two as he slightly bends over and you push yourself on your toes. You both pull away holding your face against his chest trying to catch your breath and you feel the rise and fall of his own chest. A pair of lips press against your hairline and you smile into his chest before you hear the metal hiss as his helmet is put back on. You pull back staring at the copper and white beskar as you feel his gaze on you his thumb strokes your cheek.

“I should go before Din starts his own hunting party.” You say a small chuckle comes from the two of you as he nods. He leans forward his forehead meeting yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow then mesh’la.” You pull away giving one last glance at him before you head back toward the group. You spot on the second level of the ship just before the group is you see the flash of silver beskar under the moonlight. Heading up the stairs spotting the familiar armor of Din and you’re silent as you join his side. He seems to have the same idea of lean against an object and pondering.

“You alright?” You ask and you can feel his brief glance at you before you both stare forward. “That boy…Kaz, is he your partner?” He asks and you're surprised by his question and more of his phrasing.

“Kaz and I aren’t together like that! I mean I don’t think so…we haven’t really talked about it.” You ramble as he looks over at you, “But you do like him.” You’re quiet now that you think about it you two discussed what you two were. Sure he said he liked you and you liked him but did that make you two together? It was all strange new territory that you had no guide to help you.

“I do...It’s just...I’ve never had this before..people like me like that,” You felt embarrassed what if you had it all wrong and this was just a big thing you thought it was. You bury your face in your hands, “Maker I’m so stupid..” Din leans on his arms on the railing looking at you.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “I mean everything we’ve been through, Grogu and I get rescued by you and the Mandalorians--we get the bounty hunters to come after us, we get to meet Ahsoka and she can’t train us, we go to the seeing stone--the empire gets us, even on Tatooine we got Cobb and the people of Freetown and he almost died. Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

“What if something happens to the Mandalorians, to Grogu, to Bo-Katan, or you!? I don’t know what to do if you’re gone-” “Hey calm down nothing’s going to happen,” Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.” He responds his voice thick with emotion. He was glad to have the beskar helmet on his head covering the tears in his eyes. Hearing the title you called him and the meaning of it to both you and him. Din would always be there for you, to protect you and care for you as a father would.

The following morning the landship returns to the Gauntlet so the Armorer and the weak Mandalorians can return to the fleet to be taken care of while the others lead you to where the Forge is. “Onward, Mandalorians! To the Forge!” The Captain yells to his crew as you set off. Sat on a crate beside Din you see most of the Mandalorians resting or waiting for the arrival of the forge. Two however play a game of chess. Vizsla grabs his enforcer making a flank jump and Woves sighs, “You can’t move an Enforcer like that.”

“It’s a flank jump. And you’re about to submit.” Vizsla says and Woves gives him a look, “But only the Wing Guard can flank jump.”

“The Enforcer moves like a Wing Guard when it’s flanking.” Vizsla retorts and Woves sighs shaking his head and turning to his companions with a laugh, “These primitives make up their own rules for everything.” Insulted by his accusation of cheating Vizsla draws out a vibroblade.

“Seriously?” “Submit or fight.” Vizsla demands to Woves who looks at the Mandalorian, “Can you believe this?” The two suddenly break into a brawl with their blades, punches, and kicks both getting their fair licks in.

“Should I step in?” Din questions and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “Neither side can step in. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” The two continue fighting both ready to strike each other with their blade when Grogu comes between them with IG-12 breaking up the fight as he spams the droid’s vocabulator,

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” The two men are silent before retracting and heading off to different sides of the deck, “You taught your apprentice well.” Bo-Katan comments and Din looks over at the child who is looking at the three of you,

“He didn’t learn that from me.”

A sharp whistle fills the air as the Mandalorian in the highest peak shouts down to the Captain, “There, on the starboard bow!” The ground crackles ahead of you all seeing the green glass shatter and some dragon-like monster appears from the ground its tail swinging down on all of you

“Abandon ship!” The Captain shouts and you feel arms wrap around your waist you quickly wrap your arms around their neck as you’re sent up into the air as the tail smashes into the ship it exploding in a ball of flames. Landing a distance away, Mandalorians land haphazardly around you as debris rains down on you and Din covers you with his body. He pulls back looking over you as people around you shout, “This way! This way!” “Hurry up! Faster!”

“You good?” He asks you and you nod you’re brought to slightly underneath the surface but the rocks above you shake falling around you, “We’re not far. We need to go further down.” The Captain yells and you’re all sent underground the rumbling of the creature that attacked you recedes the deeper down you went. The cave leads to a tunnel that opens up to a large open space.

“Where are we?” You ask looking at the enormous machines that lined the deep trench, “This is what’s left of the Great Forge. This was once the heart of our civilization. But the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.” Woves says as you walk alongside the small outlook showing the forge.

“You lived here?” Vizsla asks and Reeves glances at him, “We all did.”

“We never left,” The survivors’ captain adds, “Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.” The distant sound of jetpacks echoes through the cave and you see a multitude of them heading toward you all.

“Jet packs?” Din says confused, “More survivors?” Woves comments when you notice the design of the armor and a wave of panic rushes over you. That bad feeling of being close to winning and something going horribly wrong starting.

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them. Your saber pulls from your belt instantly deflecting blaster fire it hitting the armor in return but making no impact as they continue firing.

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” You shout as a few land before you and you dodge blaster fire spinning your blade around and aiming at spots not covered in the lightsaber-resistant metal. It’s harder combat against them, one grabs your hair pulling you towards the edge and a vibroblade is stabbed in the trooper's neck releasing you. Kaz’s hand pulls you to your side as you go back to back fighting against troopers that try to get the drop on you.

“We’re pinned down. We need backup.” Din shouts while fighting his own pair of troopers. Casualties happen on both sides as many questions run through your head through the battle. Where had they even come from?! You thought you were the only ones on Mandalore unless they were tracking you and followed.

“I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements.” Woves volunteers firing at the troopers that are up in the air raining down on you all. “No, it’s too far.” Bo-Katan disagrees not wanting to lose any more men and women.

“I can make it. It’s our only shot at taking the planet back.” Woves pushes.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there.” Vizsla points at the opening leading to the surface and moves forward with his large machine gun, “I’ll lay down cover.” Blaster bolts are fired at the troopers some getting hit fatally as Woves takes off. One tries attacking him mid-flight when its armor is crushed quite violently and send falling to the ground. Making brief eye contact with you he continues and flees to the surface. You spin around stabbing your saber between the gaps of armor your free hand pushing out Force pushing them into the cavern. The dwindling troopers against the resistance you show make them retreat into another tunnel.

“They’re retreating!” Vizsla shouts as Bo-Katan reloads her blaster before rushing forward, “Advance.”

“For Mandalore!” The Mandalorians shout as you run alongside Kaz firing after the troopers, Din reaches your side as you suddenly leave rocky terrain and enter imperial flooring and walls. That sense of nerves adds weight to your chest the deeper into their base. The troopers fly off on the jetpacks leaving you all in the base. You take in the TIEs and Bombers that wait patiently to be deployed your fear only growing stronger. The Imps didn’t follow after you…they were here on Mandalore all this time, and with how much was here they must have been here since the Purge.

“What is this place?” Bo-Katan says as you look around when a door hisses shut and you spin around seeing all of everyone minus, yourself, Kaz, Din, and one other Mandalorian on the other side of the blast door. You raise your saber to cut through the door when you hear Din shout and an alarm goes off.

“It’s an ambush!” A squadron of Imperial commandos lands on the platform firing at the four of you. Spinning your blade to deflect blaster fire but it was too many as one takes down one of the Mandalorians. Din and Kaz fire their blasters at them when a fibercord whip wraps around Din’s neck yanking him back. “Din!” You shout barely dodging a blaster fire blocking the attack as he fires another cable wrapping around his wrist and he sends a wave of flames. You thrust your hand out crushing the trooper that was choking Din, his limbs snap in a horrid position as he crumbles to the ground. A loud cry fills the air and you feel the life drain from your body. Spinning around and seeing Kaz holding his hands to his side as he crumbles to the ground, you release a yell raising your saber to attack his perpetrator when a blaster rifle slams against your temple. Stars blind you as you hit the ground your saber falling out of your hands and your quickly jumped by three troopers. Their hands grab your arms and pin them behind your back as you thrash violently.

“Let me go! Kriffing let me go! You son of a bitch!” You shout feeling cuffs being placed around your wrist and you try calling your lightsaber but it remains laying on the floor. Your shouts fill the air as you see Kaz on his side his hands pressed to his side blood quickly spilling from his side, “No! stop it. Stop it! Kaz!” You cry out struggling more and your face is slammed into the ground and blood spills from your mouth and nose.

“Don’t you touch her!” Din roars seeing three of them manhandle you to the ground. He fights against his own restraints, the cable tightly around his neck and one on each wrist forcing his arms to cross his chest so he couldn’t use them as three troopers for him bringing him to his knees. Your gaze is focused on Kaz as he bleeds out, alive but losing blood too quickly. Someone lands on the platform seeing a person in Dark Trooper armor, the Mandalorian-style helmet with spikes on the crown similar to the Armorer.

“Disarm them.” A modulated voice calls out and you struggle in your assailants’ grasp as they remove your blaster and vibroblade from your holster. The Dark Trooper motions to the troopers restraining you and you’re pulled from laying on the ground to shoved on your knees as you fight in their grasp. You watch them grab their helmet removing it and the air leaves your body and it’s silent as you stare back at the man. Who tormented you, ruined your life, kidnapped, assaulted, and tried to murder you, the man you tried to kill but failed. He wasn’t meant to be here…this wasn’t real you would open your eyes and be back on Nevarro or at the Great Forge and you never got into a fight with the Empire. He wasn’t real..this wasn’t real. But when he spoke your worst nightmare was confirmed,

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me. Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy and the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it,” Gideon holds his hands out showing his suit off. If looks could kill Din would have killed Moff Gideon a billion times over, his gaze kept moving from Gideon, to Kaz who continues bleeding out, and you who was paralyzed in fear.

“You see, every society has something to offer. The cloners. The Jedi. And even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.” Gideon felt power knowing his plan had worked and he had everyone where he wanted them to be. “Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” The Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.” Gideon grins and a harsh cough fills the air he looks down and spots the weak Mandalorian a few feet from you still kicking. You see Gideon’s gaze on Kaz and you go feral fighting harshly against their hands.

“Don’t you kriffing touch him! Leave him out of this!” You shout blood mixing with tears and your words and emotions reveal the one weak card he was willing to fully exploit. “Strip him of his armor.” He orders and the pair of troopers keeping guard moves forward as you scream for mercy they pull up the Mandalorian to his own knees as one holds him the other being pulled off his armor.

“Let him go! Stop it, please! If you want your heirs you can have them! Please let him go…please!” You shout out as Kaz cries out in pain as he’s stripped of his armor leaving his helmet on Gideon strides forward kneeling before you admiring the tears in your eyes and the blood that comes from your injuries. You hear Din yelling from behind you and Bo-Katan as well. Gideon grabs your chin forcing you to look at him and you feel sick staring at the man his touch sending you into shock.

“Unfortunately that offer is now off the table,” He rises back up and you see him walk towards Kaz not before reaching down and grabbing your saber as you scream and cry out realizing what he was going to do. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chin of his helmet he rips it off him and you’re staring back at the man you had cared for, giving your heart to. His skin was pale but not sickly, his features sharp with a few cuts littering his perfect face. He was beautiful with short straight black hair you had felt in your hands but didn’t know the color of anything and his eyes piercing and blue like the clearest waters. They were filled with pain but also sadness as he looks at you and you see the acceptance in his gaze that sends you into a panic.

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t. I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body and a scream of anguish rips through your throat. Kaz keeps staring at you until you see the life fade before you and Gideon as the boy you loved crumples to the ground.

“Nooo!” You were dead this wasn’t real. Screams and cries tear you apart as you hunch over in the troopers’ arms sobs raking through your body as the air is ripped from your body gasping for air. The Mandalorians behind the blast door and the one behind you are silently looking in horror as Gideon kills the love of your life and worse with the saber that was the symbol of your kind. The weapon of a jedi used to slay your lover. Your gaze was focused on Kaz’s lifeless one as he stared at you with those empty eyes already glossed over. “I’ll kriffing kill you...No! No...I’ll kill you.” You shout not a threat a promise with hatred in your voice. As Gideon holds your weapon in his grasp attaching it to his person.

“Take him to the debriefing room and bring the dear princess to the command center.” Gideon orders and Din is forced to his feet struggling in their grasp seeing the lifeless look in your eyes as you scream out into the air. He failed you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’re heart would never be broken. Din had seen you lose everything important to you and he knew you had lost a part of yourself with this final strike.

You’re pulled to your feet but you can’t stand weak and nauseous as they hold up your weight, “None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over. You’re pulled as you cry out whispering to the man you failed. “i’m sorry…i’m sorry…i’m sorry.”

You didn’t see the meaning of waking up in the morning, a reason to smile, to eat, to breathe, to live. You had lost greatly and your heart could only take so much. His love with haunt you like a phantom, his touch burns and scars your skin, his kiss a mere memory, and his death will drown you until you too leave this plane of existence. You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

A/N: I'm sorry🫣 Also for those wondering the face claim for Kaz is Freddy Carter. I live for Kaz Brekker so just picture that gorgeous man. One more chapter left!!

[chasing-caws]

She/they non-binary furiosa and trans man he/him praetorian jack and they’re both autistic and bisexual agenda hell yeah self projection go brrrr

[baelpenrose]

Ask me anything!

Alright, guys, it's been a while. Praetorian is ongoing, and we're coming up on the next major battle. Nihilus Rex is in full swing. Arcadian Inquisition is in the process of being fully edited. After book 1 of Praetorian finishes, (and I get a slight hiatus to recover and help @canyouhearthelight get something going) I will be working on book 2 of Under Avandra's Eyes. If you have any questions, I'm open.

[writings-of-the-trinidude]

Welcome Folks

One of my goals for 2025 is to get back into writing, something I did a lot of in my younger years. My goal is to at least finish two of the following projects this year:

An SCP Article.

Tentative title: The Sin Eater.

Genre: Horror/Tragedy

Written in the Fire Suppression Department canon, witness how the Foundation handles a humanoid SCP that has the capability of erasing anything that is deemed a "sin". See how the Foundation's cold and analytical manner turns a helpful anomaly into something horrifically tragic.

(I would really appreciate any and all feedback on this one, so I'll be posting drafts in their entirety as I write and rewrite it.)

2. A League of Legends fanfic (a la Arcane)

Title: First of Ten

Genre: Horror

In the fallout of the Demacian mage rebellion, King Jarvan the IV dispatches a group of disgraced mageseekers on a diplomatic mission to Ashe, the Avarosan Warmother. Before their quest can even begin however, the group is waylaid by a gang of rebel mages, trying to eke out a meager existence in the Demacian wilderness. Initially at each other's throats, both factions quickly realize that their survival depends on an unlikely alliance. For when the darkness falls on these wild lands, a true terror emerges, seeking to reap their very souls.

(You don't need to know about League of Legends to be able to read this one. It's all OCs (except the main monster), and anything specific to the lore will be explained. The title is part of a voice line from said monster. I'll post links (ao3 I think) to the chapters on this blog when they are completed.)

3. An Original Novel

Tentative Title: Miasma

Genre: Science Fiction/ Superhero Fiction

Emma has the unique distinction of being the only daughter of the world's first superhero and also its greatest villain. Twenty years ago, The Paladin, leader of the Praetorians, went rogue. He murdered his entire team, including his wife, Emma's mother. Declaring superpowers to be anathema, he now heads a cult that seeks to destroy everything he once stood for.

Plagued by nightmares and desperate to avoid unwanted attention, Emma tries to live the most quiet and mundane life she possibly could. That dream is shattered when she starts manifesting her father's powers and is drafted into the current iteration of the Praetorians. Forced to fight against her own father and the mysterious Miasma plaguing the world, Emma must confront the horrors of her past and uncover secrets about her family that may have horrific consequences for everyone and everything she holds dear.

(I know this sounds like another "Hey, what if Superman was Evil" story, but I promise you it is not. I hate those stories too and this is not one of them. I've had this story bouncing around in my head for years, and it one point it was even fully fantasy, but I think the superhero genre may express it the best.

Also none of the names of anything in this story is fixed. They will almost certainly change as the story progresses, so please bear with me. I'm not sure how I'll keep you guys updated on this one. Maybe I'll post excerpts? I don't know. I'm new to this writblr thing.)

I'll update this post with links when I have stuff for you guys to read. I hope to do weekly updates but we'll see how that goes. Until then, take care.

-Jeremiah

[kookyburrowing]

oh realized I never posted the link to my mad max long fic

basic premise: praetorian jack lives, and nothing gets better. mostly an exploration of life in the citadel, with the added variable of furyjack pining and lots of furiosa bonding with her crew.

[silkendandelion]

I was inspired to write up some more OCs so here we go, some new, some old

Darling: Former Legate, Legion runaway, lifelong cowboy. Real name Shenandoah, but he admits no one’s ever really called him by his first name since his family died, and now he prefers Darling because it’s easier. Absolute sweetheart, he loves Sunset Sarsaparilla, cigarettes, and hot showers (has a running joke of getting naked immediately when they find a motel, vault, or safe river because he always wants a bath). Prefers to cook breakfast, which is good since Kane prefers to cook dinner. They keep Arcade fed between the two of them. The gun-slinger of the group with the highest agility and highest repair skill.

Kane: Enclave defector from Illinois, one of many thousand genetically augmented "Cadmus Children" from Project Cadmus, later called the Spartoi colloquially, one of the Enclave's many failed attempts to make a super soldier. Kane is still the best combatant of his friends by a wide margin due to his dulled sense of pain from overuse of chems. Call sign "Lover Boy", because as a child he would never fail to collect the dog tags of his fallen siblings. Other Spartoi, including the three who held Harrisburg with him during an Enclave raid, say there's "something wrong with him", that the brainwashing didn't take. He loves his "siblings" despite it all, remembers every life he has ever taken, and now spends his evenings cooking dinner for his friends.

Nero: For a long time, Nero was the man Caesar left in charge of the East, and Nero took advantage of the fact that Caesar rarely visited (if ever), declaring himself a pseudo-emperor and stocking his Praetorian’s with loyal supporters. Upon Caesar’s death, he removed officers he knew he couldn’t control, including having Vulpes Inculta and Lanius arrested for incompetence and brought to Ft. Carson, Colorado, where the fort functions as his “palace�� and a training center. Nero is an older man with a soothing voice and a soft-spoken cadence, calm and cruel, with 10 charisma. Despite Caesar’s teachings, Nero loves so-called degenerate pleasures, and keeps his troops tightly controlled with vices and anti-Caesar propaganda.

Romulus: Praetorian, a hulking, might-makes-right man who says he has no scars because he has always been the strongest person in the room. A violent, yet obedient man who despite his larger stature, obeys Remus’ orders because he has never beat him in an armed fight. When Darling is recaptured by the Legion on the Colorado-Utah border, Romulus voices his pleasure in beating him because he quote “never deserved to be Legate”. When Darling says Nero will not want him harmed, Romulus lies to him that Nero only stated “alive”, and does not tell him the true orders: that Nero wanted Darling hurt so he would be more likely to act docile for the sake of safety. Kane absolutely beat the brakes off him in trying to free Darling the second time, but Romulus lived and will come back in later scenes.

Remus: Romulus’ “brother” (they are of similar age and are from the same dissolved tribe), a smaller, more pleasant man who values duty above all else. He served Caesar faithfully and pledged his allegiance to Nero after Caesar’s death, who then named him Chief Praetorian, of which he gives the officers orders in the emperor’s absence. Never cruel, endlessly fair, but completely loyal to his orders. When Darling was recaptured, Remus furiously scolded Romulus for his harsh treatment and even gave Darling medical care, right before carrying out his orders and escorting him to Moab to be received by the Emperor (they did not succeed and Darling escaped again). If he wasn’t ride-or-die Legion, Darling would really like him.

[gebo4482]

PROJECT VESPERI - Gameplay Trailer

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