#tarot responde

[laterreurofficial]

is rule in reverse named after the king of swords?

Maaaaybe......... perhaps....

[inknanda67]

Ch5 of Pan's Flute when?

No pressure

Oh! Chapter 5 has already been posted, but if you want to know about chapter six, I posted it now ^^

Here:

Shiny worm, Because, yes.

[mads-does-stuff]

lets say that. hypothetically. someone wanted to draw one of your artfight characters as a tarot card. what card(s) would you assign them and why. hypothetically of course. in this hypothetical anon would also be thanking you for the attack. but its all a hypothetical of course. [also in this hypothetical both major (like the wheel of fortune, the tower, the fool, etc) and minor (like the four of pentacles, page of wands, queen of cups, etc) are up 4 consideration ty 4 ur hypothetical response]

OHMY GOSH!!! im freaking out.. uhh...

Klara - Justice

X - The Fool

Damián - The Hanged Man

[moonlight-prose]

hey lovey!

i'm a taurus and my question is how do i connect with myself better?

from one taurus to another this card definitely shows up a lot. (at least when i do readings about connection).

as always take what works for you in this meaning and take the overall words with a grain of salt.🖤

THE HIGH PRIESTESS UPRIGHT:

this card can be seen within the archetypes such as persephone, artemins, isis (etc). basically...she's powerful af. she's related with inner knowledge rather than outer. and when she shows up it's a call to focus on your intuition rather than prioritizing your conscious mind. she depicts the divine feminine, the mysterious and sensual female.

this card is telling you that you should go with your gut feeling and trust your instincts more. it can also suggest a period of retreat from the world to find your inner voice. sometimes it's better to sit, watch, learn, and wait for the inner voice to say something before responding to events. rather than trying to direct them.

[twisted-tales-told]

Sometimes u should say something because chances are the other person had no idea that the Thing u wanted to ask about was even going on

[wingwisher]

My reading is the battle was between catholic faith and tarot readings, the great change is you getting freaked out by tarot readings by always getting the same scarysounding results, and that's a tragic fate

Someone is getting a tarot reading and the first card is Death

The person doing the reading explains that death is usually a metaphor, and refers to a large change

The second card is The Tower

They explain that the tower often refers to tragedy when asked if that means death they say it can but doesn't always

The third card is Someone Is Actually For Real Going To Die

[knightofhylia]

when you have been working sick with COVID all week and when you finally get a day off you get an 8 am text to cover someone's shift

[we-fucked-up-evolution]

i'm starting a second d&d campaign where i'm the dm (i am, fortunately, a player in two other games) and one of my potential players hasn't sent me his background yet

we made his character sheet together two months ago.

i lit up the group chat with my frustration and all he had to say was basically "sorry not sorry, i've been busy, sure i could have done this two months ago when i was less busy but oh well i didn't"

can't wait for monday (which is the cutoff i declared) to yeet him outta there and find a nicer player who's more respectful of my and other players' time

[venusinmyrrh]

Hi Tinseltown Tarot

Thank you

Your card is the Two of Wands.

Look at you, ready for anything! You’re at the beginning of a journey and you’re prepared for wherever the road may take you. As long as you persevere and keep your wits about you, you’ll come out on top.

readings are closed (for now!)

[tsunodaradio]

an act of pure defiance ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

“you know, moles are where your soulmate kissed you the most in your past life.” 

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 1.3k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. mention of alcohol; profanity. established relationship, pinch of manhandling, title from the script’s science & faith. ꔮ commentary box: kae stop writing about oscar piastri challenge: failed 🤷 miami race winner, baby! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You hadn’t even been dating yet when the ‘fact’ first came up in conversation. 

You were virtual strangers at one of Lando’s infamous house parties. Oscar had only met you a couple of hours prior, and it was the point of the night where everybody was sufficiently sloshed. Not in a destructive way, but enough to kind of lose grasp on reality. 

Oscar had been bleary-eyed and regretting his third shot of tequila when you loudly announced, to no one in particular, “You know, moles are where your soulmate kissed you the most in your past life.” 

It had been so absurd, so out of the blue, that Oscar couldn’t help it. He let out a snort of laughter that even the thumping music couldn’t hide, and you’d glared at him with the fury of a drunken woman scorned. 

“What?” you had demanded, and Oscar remembers finding you pretty in the moment. The flush in your cheeks—from the alcohol and indignance—and the fire in your eyes, not at all dulled by the Jägermeister you had chugged before graciously inviting yourself to the loose circle Oscar was hiding in. 

“It’s bullshit,” he had responded easily. 

“What’s bullshit?” 

He glared at you like he didn’t quite understand why he had to explain. “Soulmates,” he said exasperatedly. “Past lives.” 

“Well,” you had shot back, voice pitching higher, “you can go take your orange rocket ship and shove it up your—”

Somebody slapped a hand over your mouth. And Oscar had smiled, the barely-there grin hidden behind his red solo cup, without thinking for a moment that he was going to go down the deep end in record time. 

Falling in love with you hadn’t taken time; convincing you to date him was a completely different story. You still sometimes bitched about his anti-soulmate mentality, and Oscar had resolved to rubbing the migraine out of his temples if it meant agreement would keep you happy. 

It was just—so insane. Karmic justice and reincarnation made no sense to Oscar the same way telemetry might baffle an average person. He was not a man of faith. He liked to think everything could be broken down. 

The precision needed to make an impossible turn. The aerodynamics of his car that could make or break his race. 

The parts of his brain that lit up whenever you’re around. 

The serotonin he felt when you agreed to a date. 

Oscar believes in science. It’s tried, and tested, and true. 

His marks were products of melanocytes. He knows, because he drunkenly Googled it on the way home from Lando’s party. That night you met, he searched up a typo-laden why do people have moles, took a screenshot of the Mayo Clinic page that came up, and kept it in his gallery for three whole weeks. 

He had thought of you for three whole weeks. 

Now, Oscar gets tagged in memes about being an Aries. He finds himself taking ‘personality’ quizzes he swears have no purpose, but he’ll indulge you with his damn MBTI if it keeps you from pouting. He doesn’t understand the tarot cards you pull or why you have notifications on for an app called Co–Star.

He learns to live with it, chalks it up to being so horribly down bad that he’ll give you the benefit of doubt for nearly everything. 

Nearly everything. 

It’s another hotel room, another race weekend. The two of you are sprawled out on the bed, doing your own things, when Oscar feels your fingers absentmindedly tracing the back of his neck. It’s a touch light enough that it doesn’t tickle, doesn’t distract. There’s nothing provocative about it either, so Oscar keeps his gaze firm on the cricket match he’s rewatching. 

After a couple moments, you let out a huff. “Pay attention to me,” you grumble, and Oscar rolls his eyes—feeling so unbearably fond of you, he thinks he could die from it. 

(An exaggeration of epic proportions, of course. Oscar knows there’s no recorded deaths due to ‘fondness’, but he allows himself a hyperbole every now and then. A little treat.)

He shifts in the bed until you can lean on him more comfortably. “You could have just led with that,” he points out, even though he’s never truly minded your whining. 

You don’t answer, instead opting to burrow yourself into his side. He tries and fails to keep himself from smiling.

When your face tilts upward, lips brushing against his throat, Oscar’s eyes flutter shut. He’d never admit it out loud, but this was one of his favorite things about you. How tactile you could be. How generous you were with your affection. How—

Huh. 

This isn’t new. You’ve always been the type to shower Oscar with kisses, whether it was a prelude to something more or a show of affection on its own. For the first time ever, though, Oscar notices something. 

Two kisses near his Adam’s apple. One to the side of his neck, below his ear. A couple across his jaw—seemingly random, except they’ve always been in the same place, and now Oscar is laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” you murmur accusingly, your lips brushing over the constellation on his cheek. 

“You are,” he answers, arms looping around your waist. 

In one deft movement, Oscar pulls you on to his lap. You go without resistance, taking the change in position as an opportunity to lave his face with more chaste kisses. 

“Trying to one-up my soulmate?” he teases. 

You pause, realizing you’ve been caught. Instead of backing down, though, you only move to press your lips to his. Oscar can feel you smiling, and it makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. 

“I’m your soulmate,” you murmur without breaking the kiss, and he hums a vague ‘mhm’ in response. When you have him like this, he’ll agree to anything. 

You keep up with your trail of kisses, and the sudden rationale behind it all makes something treacherous thump, thump, thump in Oscar’s chest.

That very thing aches when you mumble, all trademark petulance, “You didn’t love me enough in our past life.” 

Early into your relationship, you had pointed it out. How Oscar had a lot more visible marks than you. You’d mapped them all over his body until he felt like there wasn’t a part of him he could hide from you, and he’d mentally compared it to the glaring lack on your own skin.

He’d thought you liked it, that you didn’t have as much blemishes or moles. But now, you’re burying your face into the crook of his neck and kissing up his throat, complaining like he had a hand in it at all. 

He uses the grip he has around your waist to flip you over. Your back to the mattress, your head cushioned by his hand. 

“What the hell!” you squeak, indignant, but Oscar’s already moving. 

Bracing himself on top of you, he kisses along the line of your jaw. Over your collarbone. Down the column of your throat. It’s methodical, still, even here. Brushes of his lips, each one pressed with intent.

Despite your earlier protest, your fingers find purchase at the short hair at Oscar’s nape. “What’s this all about?” you breathe.

Oscar peeks up at you through his bangs, noticing the way your eyes have fluttered close in contentment. 

He’ll take that. He’ll have that over you claiming he didn’t ‘love you enough’ in whatever past version of you might have existed. It’s so out of character for him, but something inside him had flicked like a light switch at your taunt. 

“I’m making it up to you,” he answers, voice hoarse, as he goes back to trailing kisses over each part of you that he can reach.

Jaw, collarbone, throat. The slope of your shoulder. The inside of your wrist. Places where, if you’re right, you’ll find moles in your next life. 

Oscar still doesn’t believe in a lot of things. But you’re laughing affectionately underneath him, pulling him closer, taking what he has to give, and Oscar—

Well, Oscar believes in you. ⛐

[nightingale-prompts]

Beautiful Ghost-DC x DP prompt

Part of the Accidental Ghost Courting AU 》 HERE

We finally get Tim's perspective on Danny

If there is one thing everyone on campus knows it's that Danny Nightingale is hot. Not in the stereotypical supermodel or Hollywood way. He was so attractive it was scary like he dropped out of a fairy tale.

Tim first saw Danny after whispers started going around. He spotted Danny in the library walking towards the observatory on the top floor.

At first glance, you'd call him a goth and there was no shortage of people who'd love to date one. It's probably why no one shuts up about him. But Tim could tell this wasn't the corporate punk type goth that he saw Damian scrolling through on his phone. Tim was quick to tease Damian and stop what would inevitably become a phase.

No, Danny had a clear style. Classic gothic...but also not. It's hard to explain. His clothes looked handmade, straight out of the 1800s. Did he thrift or make them himself? He was an astronomy major right? Or was is engineering?

Danny looked almost ethereal. Tall, lean, and almost glowing skin. It wasn't until later that Tim would be close enough to see the way his skin sort of glittered in low light.

People parted to not obstruct Danny's path as he went toward the observatory.

Everyone knew that Danny was off limits, too cowardly to get the courage to ask him out and risk rejection. So Danny remained unreachable.

Tim paid it no mind. He acknowledged that Danny was good-looking but there wasn't much else that got his attention. Danny didn't pay attention to others.

But Tim couldn't help but notice that Danny was always alone in his own little world. There was a hint of longing in him. Tim might have overheard a few things.

Danny would usually be in the library reading eclectic materials, playing with tarot cards, and studying star charts. Other days he was in the greenhouse tending to a little corner of plants he was growing. He seemed bored. He looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.

Tim might have done some research. Just scrolling through Danny's social media. Pictures of friends and graveyards. Most of the landscape photos were taken after his arrival in Gotham. Tim gathered that Danny was alone out here and far from home. He could fit in easily around here but simply chose not to.

It wasn't until that faithful day when Danny offered him a bundle of red carnations and a cup of Death Wish coffee.

"You looked like you need this." He said smiling.

And wow...that smile. Tim didn't think he'd ever see a smile like that. It was a sort of lopsided smile, a bit clumsy but sweet. Danny had elongated canines. Were they fake or was it a medical condition?

Tim didn't know how to respond to Danny's offer but he wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee.

Over the next few weeks, Tim found himself on campus more often and hanging around Danny. Danny tended to be very generous. Always gave things to Tim, most of which he made himself. That is what made it all feel genuine. On cold days Danny always had a hot cup of coffee or tea. When it was sunny he had something sweet freshly baked. When it rained he had flowers to brighten the room. When it was foggy he wanted to go find something fun to do. Danny also worked at the flower shop nearby which was said to be haunted by the old owners.

Rumors spread more and more that Danny wasn't human, like some kind of fae that took human form. Was there a chance it was true? Yes. Does that mean that Tim was going to test that?

Yes.

So Tim just wanted to test that theory and gave Danny a bracelet that looked similar to the ones he usually had. It just so happened to be made of Iron. Tim felt bad about it (kinda) but it was just genuine curiosity.

But no Danny wasn't a fae. He was incredibly happy to get a gift though so no harm done.

Another thing Tim noticed was Danny's eyes. They weren't blue like he thought. Danny had central heterochromia. He had a ring of bright green near his iris surrounded by icy blue. Not that Tim was staring at his eyes or anything, just that no one ever mentions that part when describing Danny. It's pretty notable you know. More people should know that.

...

.....

It's normal to think that.

Anyways Tim and Danny meet up when they can. Danny likes visiting graveyards and abandoned churches. Not that he doesn't like the movies or arcades because he loves that stuff. But one time after a late class he dragged Tim with him on a scenic drive out of the city to this spot he found. It was this massive cliff just far enough from the city that you could see the stars.

Tim never really gave much thought to the stars. He's seen them thousands of times especially being carried around by Kon or on the Watchtower. But right then watching Danny fiddle with his telescope babbling on about the planets and far-off galaxies, the stars felt new and wondrous.

Was this what it felt like to be normal? Just a college kid going on a spontaneous road trip with a friend, not thinking about patrols or duties.

He liked it.

Danny had a way of making him forget about the rest of the world. Someone not linked to heroes and assassins. A friend, a weird one but one he didn't have to be Robin with. He was just Tim to Danny. Not Tim Wayne, not Tim Drake, just Tim.

Because of that, he wanted to keep Danny as far from his family as possible. They already think they were dating and he'd be damned if they scared Danny away. This didn't stop them from investigating Danny and that brat wont stop spouting his opinion.

"I don't know what he sees in you. Aside from appearance, there isn't much to like." Damian grumbled.

"He must be really vain then because Tim doesn't deserve this kid." Jason responded.

"But if he even thinks about hurting Drake-"

"Yeah, we bury him."

Tim has chosen to ignore everything they say.

The last issue is Phantom.

Tim doesn't like Phantom.

The spirit had been hanging around Gotham for a while now. He lingered around the corners of the city and if he felt like it he'd interfere. In his own words, Phantom said that he dealt with the dead, not the living. Tim did some research and it's said Phantom showed up near the dying or dead as a sort of shepherd to souls. He made the transition easier for them.

So when Phantom was seem lingering around Danny he couldn't accept it. He'd be damned if he let some spooky bastard take Danny. He can't have him.

So Tim decided to invite Danny to stay with him for a few days. But a few day became a week became two weeks. Don't judge. This was just so Tim could look out for Phantom and prevent Danny from dying. It hasn't been working so far since Phantom hasn't been seen nearby.

But Tim did run into him.

"Why are you stalking Danny Nightingale?" Tim damanded.

Phantom circled overhead his spectral tail curling. His translucent body phasing in and out of the visible light spectrum.

"Stalking? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care about chasing the living. But let's say Nightingale is an exception. He's special. But what does he have to do with you?" Phantom eyes Tim suspiciously before diving down floated inches away from Tim face. "Hmmm, I always did think you were the cutest Robin. I was right. Too bad I've got my eyes on someone else now."

And like that he dissappeared.

Now Tim was even more anxious. Phantom was definitely after Danny most likely dead or alive. If something happened to Danny he didn't know what he'd do. Its not safe out there with Phantom hanging around.

Danny was still awake when Tim returned home. He was watching some detective drama he had refused to watch with Tim because he kept guessing the plot during the first few minutes. Which was fair.

"You were out late again. Would it kill you to get some sleep now and then?" Danny sighed stretching.

Tim wanted to say "Actually I think it would. Lets not test it" and banter like always. Maybe even relax and let Danny talk about where show was on.

But Tim couldn't. Not when everything felt so surreal. Danny was just oblivious to the dangerous spirit trying to take his soul and Tim couldn't protect him.

Tim couldn't believe he was thinking this but what if Danny wanted to be with Phantom? Then what?

Tim knew that his emotions were his greatest weakness. When he did control them he does a lot of self-destructive things and he ends up hurting people especially when he's hurt.

He hugged Danny, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Danny can you promise me...that you'll stay here." He didn't care if Danny wanted to be with Phantom just as long as he doesn't leave this world and stop being his light.

The thought of not seeing Danny every day killed him. No more nagging him to eat and drink. No more star gazing. No more TV marathons. No more being dragged to spontaneous trips to the crafts stores. No more hearing the insane conversations with his friends. No more waking up on the couch with a pair of blue-green eyes looking up at him. No more Danny.

Tim felt like his heart was stopping and his stomach dropped.

Danny hugged him back putting a soothing hand on the back of Tim's neck. It was cool to the touch.

"Of course, I'll stay." Danny laughed as if the very notion he'd leave was ridiculous.

Tim's brain seemed to twist in on itself as the cascade of emotions overflowed. That laugh seemed to play over and over in his head echoing non-stop. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Dread, uncertainty, hope, and affection all blended.

Oh no..

Tim was in love.

(This got way too long. I'm not really good a romance as you can tell but I'm trying. Anyway this is a Danny fell first but Tim fell harder situation.)

[that--witchling]

For the tarot game: 7, 13, and 22!

7- Who's an artist you wish would make a tarot deck?

Oooh that's a hard one. I'm not too sure to be completely honest but it would be really cool to see a Van Gogh deck

13- Opinions on decks that include "key words" for each card's meaning printed on the card?

I think it's nice! And it can be really helpful for beginners to get a hang of things :)

22- Free space! Rant, brag, break out the hot takes on anything tarot- or collection-related, or answer any of the other questions that you wish had been asked!

I personally think in some readings and circumstances The Fool reversed can be a way to show the end of a journey. Not sure if this is a hot take or anything, but I think it can be a great interpretation 😅

[taamlok]

Rook Tarot Card Ask Game

Some in-depth character development questions for your Rook, inspired by the major arcana tarot cards

The Fool: Where did Rook's journey begin? What were they doing before joining the Veilguard?

The Magician: What are Rook's thoughts on Solas? Do they change as the story progresses?

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart?

The Empress: What does family mean for Rook?

The Emperor: What does Rook's leadership style look like?

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most?

The Lovers: Who is your Rook's most significant relationship within the Veilguard? How do they help Rook feel seen and understood?

The Chariot: How does Rook fight? What are their preferred abilities and damage type?

Strength: What gives your Rook courage? What inspires them to keep fighting?

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them?

The Wheel of Fortune: Describe an interesting character moment for your Rook. What made this moment stand out to you?

Justice: How does Rook feel about the circumstances that led to them leaving their faction? What does returning feel like?

The Hanged Man: What does Rook do when their hard work doesn't pay off? How do they cope with failure?

Death: What part of Rook do they need to kill to become the best version of themselves?

Temperance: What does Rook do to deal with the stress of their situation?

The Devil: What type of demon is most likely to target Rook? Why?

The Tower: How does Rook respond to unexpected catastrophe?

The Star: When things get dark, what gives Rook hope?

The Moon: How does Rook's past impact their values? Does their past come with any biases or blind spots they have to account for?

The Sun: What is Rook passionate about? How do they fuel that passion?

Judgement: How does Rook approach difficult decisions? How do they cope with the consequences of those choices?

The World: What does happily-ever-after look like for Rook? Is it attainable, or just wishful thinking?

[astroyongie]

✗♡✗♡ +18 Next Partner Reading ✗♡✗♡

Note: Hey everyone! February is the month of love and for that I have prepared some special readings and also games! We will start this one with this incredible reading! next up with be soft love, which will be the opposite and focused on romanticism <33 Please enjoy!

-> Reading done with: The Magical Erotic Tarot

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-> Take a moment to breathe and focus. Choose the image you feel the most attracted to and enjoy!

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ

-> 9 of wands, the chariot, 6 of wands

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: The first thing that strikes me in this reading is the fact that they are obsessed with you in all shapes and forms. They love your lips, your tummy. The way you, speak the way you move. Your future partner will love to show you off to the people yet he keeps things between the two of you quite discreet. They perceive you as someone so soft, so innocent. Might call you "little dove", "my bird", "bunny". You truly are someone they cannot leave without, as they have been manifesting you for longer than you have been.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: There's definitely so much passion in here, and your dynamic has a fun side of two coins. In one moment your partner will be the type to take you everywhere with them, long car rides, soft talks, pillow talks. Them drawing soft patterns in your back while you are relaxing. Yet, they would also not be scared to punish you, push you right into the bed, on your tummy when you are acting like a brat. Spanking your ass if you dare to raise your voice at them. They excel domination and respect and your dynamic would show exactly that.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: A ass person. They won't hide it and their kinks would all be around that. For the dynamic of your intimate sessions there's a lot going on. Body worshiping, spank play, ass dropping, anal, punishment play. but also overstimulation and denial depending on their mood and liking, soft degradation as well. The dynamic in the relationship also shows inside the bedroom. But this person truly would have always their hands one your, as they can't keep it to themselves

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

-> 8 of swords, 2 of wands, the magician

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: They probably desire you much than you desire them, and that's because their need of emotional connection is linked to their physical connection. They perceive you as someone who is seductive, someone who has caught them and now they have no issue out of this relationship, this passion, this desire. They perceive you as someone they need to possess, to own, to keep away from prying eyes. That's how much obsessed they are over you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: You both actually have a very good dynamic, one that is flirty, teasing despite also being able to be serious when its needed. You would be the type of couple that share food, cook for one another. when you go out to eat, you can rub your feet/leg on them and they would respond. there's so much chemistry, passion and romanticism. there's no secrets, you both are able to speak to one another without hiding things

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: This is all about learning things with each other. There's a possibility that this person will have your virginity and you theirs in most cases. in other cases, it indicates someone with a lot of experience, and they will make are to show you everything they know. Threesomes, exhibitionism, voyeurism, body worship, exchange of roles and kinks related to pushing forward and exploring without boundaries. that's how much comfortable you are with them.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴍᴇɢʀᴀɴᴀᴛᴇ

-> The Lovers, The Knight of swords, The Sun

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: I think they perceive you as the one that will fix their heart, their ego. The one person that they found that will make it all go away and make it feel right. It feels like they would be obsessed with your style, the way you dress and act. they love your chest/breast area as well. For some of you, this person is probably in a relationship but they will leave their partner for you because the chemistry and the attraction toward you is way greater than with who they are currently.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Okay this dynamic is quite interesting, we have here a partner that is quite dominating in the relationship. the type that will take command on things, that will dictate the relationship and provide for you. It seems like they want the other people know you belong to them, and that they are here for you. It's a dynamic where you are mostly being babied, cared for.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: There's such a good dynamic here, the sex is so hot, so passionate where you feel yourself like the happiest person in there. Some kinks I am able to perceive is hair pulling, whips, voyeurism as well. perhaps some loving missionary, naked skin agaisnt skin smash, because they need to feel you close and there. It's a sex that is truly connected and where you both take care of one another.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇꜱ

-> 9 of swords, The Priestess, 10 of pentacles

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: You are someone they finds very broken yet so sensual. They probably have this idea of "I need to fix them" as they see you as a little person who just needs to feel loved. They get protective of you rather quickly in the relationship, they want you close and crave you. They love your scent and your hips/waist. they would always want to have their hands in there

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: The dynamic is beautiful and the way they put you in a pedestal, you have honestly won this one. To them, you are everything, innocent and young, soft and so fragile. They would are for you, while also giving you your independence and the space to make decisions for yourself. You would mostly lead In the relationship. It's a dynamic where you both respect and learn with one another.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: Definitely calls you "kitten" in the bedroom, very "pussy drunk" type of person when it comes to you. they love to strip you naked, have their mouth in your neck and mark you up. They will worship you, kiss your body up and down for their own amusement and pleasure. feed you fruits, buy you the prettiest sets of lace. Mirror sex or like having a mirror in the roof would be also a thing it seems

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰɪᴠᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ

-> knight of wands, the judgment, 7 of cups

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: Their perception of you is quite interesting Ig I must say. the cards show that they see you as someone they can grow old with, someone they want to adventure in the world with, someone they want to share their life with. They love your voice, your breasts/chest area as well. The type to think you are a precious diamond that can only be polish by their own fingers

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: ah, "ride or die" type of thing it seems. Like I said earlier they are the type of person who want you for life so they have made sure they treat you as the mother/father of their children, like a husband/wife material. This person treats you right, provides to a certain extent but their love for you is priority. they will always defend you, no matter what.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: there's a lot of riding sex in here, also you against their chest with they use their hands and mouth. Breeding kink, bondage and age play can be things they are into. They love making out before and during the sex, their lips on your as there's thrusts coming in and out. they are quite romantic as well inside the bedroom, slow passionate sex is preferred by them than the rough one.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜱɪx- ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ

-> 3 of swords, page of cups, 10 of swords

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: they see you as the person that saved them after a heartbreak. It feels like this person has been wishing for love and a partner after a huge disappointment, and the moment they saw you everything made sense. they are obsessed with you. their hand always on your thigh as they talk to you. they will serenade you because to them, you are someone who deserves all the efforts

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Such a romantic dynamic honestly, this person and you are the type to write hand letters, notes, texts often and leave them around/send them when you least expect them to. They might call you "kitten" in some cases. A dynamic where they would stay up late until you come home, until you need them. the type that is jealous and would try to be around you every time, because there's some trust issues alongside the desire they have for you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: mutual masturbation can be a thing inside the bedroom, soft music in the background as well, voyeurism or exhibitionism (the fear of getting caught is what I am sensing). Threesomes can be a thing or like you being attached while your partner smashes someone else (this only in certain cases). there's a lot of make up sex, making your cry during it, forcing yourself to look at your reflection as well. boob play, a intimacy that can so times get a little rough depending on both your energy

[missadangel]

⊱ AMOR MEUS AETERNUS ⊰

(Marcus Acacius x Ofc)

III. Amor Primus

prev chapter series masterlist

Chapter Summary:  You realize that Marcus is more than just a brutal man, and it's hard to ignore your anger over his push for marriage. Julius reveals Marcus's past, while Marcus finds something in your room that will change everything. Chapter W. Count and warnings: 12k; angst, brothels, sex workers, romantic comedy, ancient rome, using drugs (tranquilizer), anxiety attacks, violence, power imbalance, mention about marriage, periods. authors note: Vestalis Maxima: The Chief Vestal of vestal virgins. Pilus Prior: A centurion in command of the first century of a cohort, making him the senior centurion of the cohort. Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose, and her hair is dyed) Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut General Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 42, reincarnation my masterlist

...Chapter Theme...

Soft wedding music played in the background, blending with whispers and laughs all around. Everything was white—white flowers, white decorations, and even the guests were decked out in white. The priest at the front looked like a vision in his white robe, but honestly, it felt a bit much.

Way too much white.

So fucking white.

Standing at the altar, your heart raced, but something felt completely off.

“Here comes the groom,” came the voice, breaking the awkward silence.

Wait, what?

Shouldn’t the bride walk in after the groom?

What kind of shit was this?

Glancing back, you felt your heart drop—there was nobody coming. You squinted, searching the crowd until you finally spotted your sister, your relatives, even your aunt, who had been MIA for years.

This was your wedding day; it felt like a twisted replay of the day you got ditched at the altar.

Suddenly, someone stood up and chuckled, “Looks like the groom isn’t coming!” Laughter rippled through the crowd, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

What’s so funny?

In a fit of frustration, you threw back your veil and shouted, “Who wants to get married anyway?”

The priest, looking annoyingly calm, responded, “Now, now, dear. We’ve found you another groom.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “Father, have you been drinking before the wedding?” 

“Jesus Christ! You can’t talk to the priest like that!” your aunt barked.

Oh, right, she was a devout woman.

The music kicked back in, and everyone shuffled back to their seats. “Here’s the groom!” someone announced again.

You turned around and felt your jaw drop. It was him—the psycho in armor, sword at his side, walking toward you with a serious look that sent chills down your spine. You stepped back, hiding behind the priest. “Please, Father! I can’t marry this guy. He’s rude and brutal, with a fierce temper—not exactly husband material."

“This is what the heavens have decreed, my child,” the priest said without an ounce of empathy.

“Heavens? Really? Can we go over this one more time?”

The priest frowned. “You are going to marry this man.”

The armored man -Marcus- reached for you, extending his hand while keeping a stoic expression.

Just perfect—this was who you were supposed to marry?

Then, out of nowhere, a psychic woman appeared, her tarot cards clinking together as she flashed a grin. “See? I told you this was the one!”

What the fuck?

If this was a dream, it was so ridiculous that it barely made any sense.

"If you don't marry me, I'll cut down all of them," Marcus said in a cold tone.

Instead of panicking, the crowd erupted in applause. "Marry him, marry him!"

Seriously?

Marcus angrily sheathed his sword, grabbed one of the guests, and you screamed.

"NO!"

You jolted awake, your heart racing, drenched in sweat. As reality sank in, laughter bubbled up nervously from your throat. “Thank goodness it was just a dream. Man, what a dream…”

But as you took in your surroundings—the wooden furniture, the table against the wall topped with a jug, the flickering oil lamp casting shadows, the rough animal skin sprawled across the floor, the long, heavy curtains, and that Roman lectus where you had been lying—the laughter faded.

A familiar wave of anxiety crashed over you again.

The last thing that stuck in your mind was, “I will petition the Emperor for special permission to grant her conubium.”

Damn conubium.

You ran your fingers through your messy hair, panic rising.

Congrats on your anxiety attack.

“No, no, no. I can’t do this. Why, God? Why?” You struggled against the sheets, frustration boiling inside you until suddenly, you lost your balance and tumbled off the bed, landing unceremoniously on your backside. Wincing, you rubbed your aching butt and glanced up at the intricate mosaic paintings on the wall. “I hate ancient Rome,” you sobbed.

Crawling across the floor, you made your way to the chair to reach for your bag and pulled out your dwindling supply of pills. You popped one into your mouth, feeling a wave of worry about the decreasing number. What would you do when they ran out?

You should go back, you should go back now.

The thought of that glowing portal or a riff whatever it was, a possible path, an exit from this maddening reality, filled you with longing.

You had to do something, you had to give it a shot.

You were desperate.

“What? He’s going to marry me? Ha. Good luck with that,” you muttered to yourself. 

With a determined huff, you flung your bag over your shoulder and glanced around the room  that had been prepared for you. Larger than the previous one, maybe—sure—but nothing could compare to the your own room back home.

You had to get out.

You peeked out into the big corridor and saw no one around. Just a few slaves who were too busy to notice you. Scanning the courtyard to figure out your escape route, you felt hopeful. Once you made it outside, no one would come after you. With a quick glance around, you descended the stairs, heart pounding with a blend of fear and exhilaration.

When two girls approached, you ducked behind the fountain, holding your breath until they passed. A triumphant smile crept onto your face as you continued toward the exit. You had done it—you were finally breaking free from this suffocating prison.

“Just a few more steps, Rose. You’ve got this,” you mumbled to yourself, feeling your heart race. As soon as you slipped out of the courtyard, you spotted two soldiers in shiny armor you’d never seen before. Luckily, they were facing away from you, deep in conversation. You crouched down and made your way along the wall, focusing on the ground instead of looking up.

Please don’t let them see me.

Please.

Your awkward shoes hampered your movement, but you pressed on, determined. Just when you dared to glance back, your heart nearly stopped—were they actually looking your way?

You picked up your pace, only to collide suddenly with something solid.

"Ow!" Rubbing your head from the impact, your eyes drifted down to two sandaled feet before rising up to meet the piercing gaze of a man clad in black armor, chest was adorned with a striking embossed design of a golden medusa, right where you had been hit on the head.

Damn.

It was him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

You widened your eyes, feigning innocence as you batted your eyelashes, quickly regaining your composure. “I just needed some fresh air."

With unwavering intensity, Marcus shifted his attention to the two soldiers beside him. “You two, get over here at once.”

“General,” they stammered, fear evident in their voices.

“This woman just wandered out here, and you didn’t even notice? Is this how you conduct your watch?”

"Forgive us, sir."

"We made a mistake."

You took a step backwards. “You guys keep talking. I’m going for a walk.”

But before you could turn away, he seized your arm firmly. “Let go of me!” you exclaimed, pulling against his grip.

“You are not permitted to go outside at this time.”

"I can go wherever I want! Just let me leave!"

His demeanor shifted slightly, and he continued in a more measured tone, “I understand that what you heard earlier was astonishing. Allow me to clarify.”

"Let go of me now, or I'll hit you with my bag," you shouted, tugging at his arm in a desperate struggle. "Let go! Let go! Let go!"

With an exasperated sigh, he finally released you, but not before you stumbled backward and crashed to the floor, a cloud of dust rising around you. The shock of the fall gripped you both—caught off guard by the awkard situation.

The soldiers shot each other looks, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

With a sharp glare from Marcus, they quickly averted their eyes, bowed their heads, and stepped away.

As you struggled to regain your composure, humiliation flooded over you. Marcus stifled a laugh, clearly trying to suppress the amusement dancing in his eyes. He didn’t even bother to help you up, leaving you to dust off your clothes.

You glared at him. “Why did you just let go of my arm like that?”

“You insisted.”

You muttered as you cleaned up your clothes. "Whoa. I can't believe it. You're unbelievable, you know that?" Then, as you walked forward, soldiers crossed in front of you.

You've turned into Marcus.

"I said you can't leave, not in the daytime at least.”

In a fit of frustration, you hurled your bag at the soldiers, landing a glancing blow. “Get out of the way! Now!” They exchanged bewildered looks, their confusion directed at Marcus.

"Please stop," Marcus said firmly as he moved closer. "Can you not follow my instructions? I don't understand why you're acting this way."

You let out a hysterical laugh. "Seriously? Why am I acting this way? Is that what you're asking right now? You're the one who forced me to come here, remember? I was living an ordinary yet happy life. I finally landed a job as an assistant designer on a film set, which meant I could earn the money I needed to cover rent and bills. Maybe my sister wouldn't even have to work over the summer to pay for school. But now, because of you, I've probably lost that job, and I don't even know if I will ever see my sister again. This is incredibly tough, and you’re making me feel trapped. So, are you still wondering why I'm like this?" Tears streamed down your face as you finished speaking.

Although he didn’t understand every word, Marcus grasped the main idea. "I promise I’ll ensure your return."

"Then let me go! I can't stay here any longer. If I go there and read those words again—"

"We'll go at night."

"But we've never tried in the morning. Maybe that would work."

"During daylight hours, the temple is frequented by citizens, including priests engaged in prayer and sacrificial rites. We’ll head out as darkness descends. After all, tonight’s moonlight will be minimal."

"But-" That's when the realization hit you.

Moonlight.

Moon.

Full Moon.

“Shit. Fuck.”

Marcus shot you a disapproving look. “Remember what I said about the swearing.”

You barely registered his words, your mind racing with countless possibilities. “Moon,” you blurted out, “There was a lunar eclipse that night!”

“Ec-lipse?” He looked confused.

You sighed. “An eclipse is when the Earth’s shadow falls on the moon, okay? It happens twice a year… Wait a minute.” You froze, a thought hitting you.

"The moon was temporarily darkened by a shadow... Indeed, I had the chance to observe that night."

“No, that can’t be,” you said, feeling the panic rise.

“What's wrong?”

“The next eclipse won’t be for another six months!” you exclaimed, dread sinking in. “I can’t stay here that long!”

“Calm yourself. We don’t have confirmation on that yet. You could be mistaken.”

Your hands shook as the reality of your situation hit you. How could you survive another six months in here? “I can’t, I just can’t,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Why don’t you come inside and take a seat for a moment? You don't look well,” Marcus suggested, guiding you toward the courtyard.

“I can’t,” you kept whispering, feeling your grip on sanity slipping. He helped you onto the lectus, and your stomach twisted painfully. Desperation clawed at you as you fished out a pill from your bag, your hands trembling as you quickly swallowed it. “Water!” he called out to slaves. “You seem to be taking that medicine quite often,” he remarked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You swallowed hard as you took the cup of water from the tray that a slave had brought you. “It’s either this, or I lose my mind. You really want to see that?” You downed some water, trying to steady your nerves.

“You’re not exactly a sane woman normally, though,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “About that other matter…”

Before he could finish, your stomach growled loudly, twisting painfully. “Taking the pill on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea,” you groaned.

“You there!” Marcus called to the slaves once more. “Bring us something to eat.”

You looked over at the slaves who were rushing off. “It was a nice move Mr General. But what if that woman—your stepmother—hates me and sees me here eating? I bet she won’t be cool with me sitting in her spot.”

“She’s not in the villa at the moment,” he said, unbuckling the scabbard from his belt and leaning it casually against the wall. "You can rest assured that her attitude will get better towards you from now on."

“That doesn’t exactly ease my mind, especially after your nonsense from yesterday,” you hissed.

“Nonsense? Is that what you call it?”

“Yes, exactly that,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“Do you really think I want to marry a woman like you? I made a promise, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it.”

“There has to be another way, you know.”

“If you want to stay in this villa, there isn’t. In your time—you told me I must have my..." he tried to remember that word. "ID. Without Roman citizenship, living here could be brutal for you. You would be treated as if you were nothing more than a slave."

You rummaged through your bag and pulled out your ID. “Check this out! It reads, Repubblica Italiana. It clearly states I am an Italian citizen, residing in Rome."

As a slave approached with a tray, Marcus quickly grabbed your hand, saying, “Put that away. It’s worthless here. This isn’t ‘that Rome,’ obviously.”

The girl set the tray down in front of you, and your stomach growled louder. Without thinking, you picked up a strange fork and dug into the food, not even caring that it was hot.

“Easy,” Marcus cautioned, frowning.

“Look, I get it, but are you saying I have no choice but marry to become a citizen here?” you asked through mouthfuls.

“No, it doesn't work that way for most people. You need special permission for conubium.”

“Please don't say that word,” you grumbled, sounding a bit rude with your mouth full, but the hunger was overwhelming.

"Do you even chew? You'll choke if you don't eat slowly," he scolded.

At that moment, Julius entered the courtyard and greeted his brother.

“Hey Julius,” you called out, waving. He smiled and approached you, but his gaze was fixed on Marcus. "I visited the House of the Vestals as you asked, brother."

Without glancing up, Marcus poured wine into a goblet on the tray. “And?”

“The Vestalis Maxima is willing to speak to the emperor about the conubium permit. But there’s something she needs... clarified,” Julius whispered, leaning in closely. Whatever he shared seemed to darken Marcus’s expression; soon, both brothers turned their gazes toward you.

You swallowed the morsel you were chewing and asked, “What?”

“By any chance, have you ever been married before?” Marcus questioned.

You shot him a glare. “No, but why do you want to know that?”

“What we’re really trying to figure out is whether you’re untouched,” Julius explained, leveling a serious look at you.

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you... Are you two seriously asking if I’m a virgin?”

They remained expressionless, clearly waiting for your response.

Your cheeks were all flushed. "Ugh, you guys are really crossing the line. What kind of vulgarity is this?"

“Are you not?” Marcus asked sternly, disappointment lacing his tone.

What the hell?

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “I refuse to answer such a bigoted question.”

“If we say she’s a widow..." Julius suggested.

Marcus stood up, visibly frustrated. “That won’t do.”

“Then?"

“I will speak to him myself,” Marcus asserted, his determination and unease evident. He reached for the scabbard attached to his belt. With a purposeful turn, he strode away.

“What just happened? Why is he so angry?” you asked to Julius.

Julius sighed as he settled down opposite you. “It would be easier to obtain citizenship if the Vestalis Maxima would vouch for you.”

“I don’t see how being a virgin is relevant,” you said, confusion coloring your voice.

"My brother has never been married, nor is he a widower, and he carries significant importance. The emperor has presented him with many suitors, but he has turned down every one of them. Now, he requires the support of The Vestalis Maxima to approach the emperor regarding this union. Do you understand the authority of the Vestals?"

“I must admit, my historical knowledge isn’t very deep in that regard.”

“They’re extremely important to Rome, but it comes with a heavy burden. Anyway, the Vestalis Maxima knows my brother, their relationship is steeped in a complex history... My brother seeking to harness her formidable influence to secure a conubium, this union. However, her support will only be granted if the young woman he intends to marry maintains her purity. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“And now Marcus is going to talk the emperor himself?” you asked.

He nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Julius!” Marcus called out, and Julius stood immediately. “Yes, brother.”

Your jaw dropped as you took in Marcus for the first time in something other than armor—he wore a white tunic, with a golden embroidered belt around his waist and a red shawl draped over his broad shoulders.

Wow.

He looked incredibly attractive.

If you weren't so angry with him, you would be melted by the sight of him.

But no.

You were very angry with him, seething even.

You looked down at the wine in your hand. At least there was one good thing about ancient Rome: the wine was absolutely delicious and fruity, almost like juice rather than an alcoholic beverage. You had nearly finished the decanter on your own and even sipped from Marcus's half-finished goblet after he left the courtyard.

Julius returned to your side, deep in thought.

“Where did he go?” 

“In his honor, chariot races are taking place at the Circus Maximus, and the emperor along with many others will be in attendance,”

"In his honor?" 

"He didn't mention previously? My brother Marcus has recently returned from the war."

“The war,” you said, suddenly realizing he was a general indeed. The image of him fighting in the chaos of battle hit you hard—blood, shouting, people scrambling, arrows flying, and the reality of death. This wasn’t a movie or a TV show; it was all too real.

You shuddered at the thought.

How could anyone endure that? 

“Why didn’t you go?” you asked, trying to change the subject. 

“To war?” he replied, surprised. "I am Pilus Prior, entrusted with the responsibility of the barracks while my commander is away. It has been two long years since my last campaign. Marcus was initially reluctant to let me join this time; his own eagerness surged like a restless tide, driving him to pursue the glory he so desperately craved. As a result, he has rightfully earned the title of General of Rome."

"That's not what I meant. I was going to ask why you didn’t go to Circus Maximus to watch the races. But wait... Did he go to war just to become a general? Is that why he was so eager?" you asked casually, not wanting to dwell on the topic.

“No, never. He’s simply a soldier... ready to fight.” There was a weight in his tone that caught your attention.

"Isn’t every soldier ready to fight?"

“No one is as willing as he is, believe me. He’s very willing to die.”

You nearly choked on your wine as you processed his words. “What do you mean? Why would he want to die?”

"Never mind," he said trying to close the subject. "To answer your question, I did not attend watching the races, as my duty is to remain here with you."

"Let me guess: your brother asked you to do that, didn't he?"

"Correct," he said shyly.

At least his mother and sister won't arrive until nightfall. That was somewhat of a relief. You pulled out your phone, needing to check the lunar calendar. Julius’s eyes widened as soon as you took it out. "What is this thing?" 

Oh, poor guy, he had no idea. 

"This is a phone. Let's see... You can access some information on it, but without Wi-Fi, it’s limited to contacts and other offline apps. Let me check the date of the next lunar eclipse and the full moon." 

He frowned. "I only caught the word ‘moon.’ Everything else you said sounded like a foreign language."

"I don’t blame you. After all, you’re looking at a device invented thousands of years in the future." 

He pointed at the phone, curiously observing the picture.

"Oh, that’s me and my sister; I set it as my wallpaper." 

"Your sister is as beautiful as you are." 

"Thanks," you said quietly, glancing at Lizze’s smiling face in the photo. You really missed her a lot. It was a struggle not to start crying, but the pill had numbed your feelings, keeping everything light and manageable. "Check it out, when I tap here, the calendar app pops up..."

"The letters here is very different." 

"That's English," you said with a chuckle. "Never mind, it would take too long to explain. We use this language. The numbers are slightly different from yours, but we still use Roman numerals for other cases. Look, it says the next full moon is in 20 days. I hope I’ll be back before then.” 

"What do those signs mean?" 

The red droplets signified the start of your period. 

"Oh no. It shows today." 

"Today?" 

"I think today is Thursday or Friday, but time flows differently here, and the days seem to drag on. I need to jot this down. My phone’s at 56% battery. Damn it." 

"What does that mean?” 

"When it hits 0%, I won’t be able to use it again. There are no chargers or sockets and, worse, no electricity.” You groaned. 

“I’m having great difficulty understanding the words you used,” he said, mesmerized by the device you were holding.

"Believe me, you’re not missing much. Anyway, it looks like we have plenty of time until nightfall. Let me show you some pictures from my gallery; I think my battery will last a bit longer.”

In the evening, Marcus and the others came back, and they were having dinner in this cool room called the triclinium. You were really surprised they called you to join them. You’d always been curious about those rooms, and seeing it all up close was pretty impressive.

Again, It all felt surreal.

Marcus was sitting at the head of the table, with his stepmother Balbina and his daughter Lydia to his left. Julius was seated to Marcus’s right, and since there were no other available seats, you had to sit next to him. Balbina and Lydia shot you glares, while the slaves continued to bring you food and drinks, clearly displeased with your presence but managing to endure it.

"Do you believe the red team will perform well in the races tomorrow?” Julius asked Marcus.

"Their horses are strong, and the chariot racer is well-skilled. However, the blue team is also quite formidable. We will better understand the outcome tomorrow; you will attend as well to see for yourself."

Julius was glad to go; it meant he wouldn’t be stuck babysitting you. But you thought the day ahead was going to be pretty boring without him. Then Marcus said, “I want you to come with me tomorrow.”

You kept munching away, thinking he was talking to someone else, but when you looked up, everyone was staring at you.

Wait, was he actually talking to you?

“The Emperor wishes to meet with you,” Marcus stated, meeting your gaze directly.

You stopped chewing for a second, swallowed. “Me? Why?”

"My son, what could her purpose be for being there?" Balbina asked, interrupting.

“Emperor Severus has expressed a desire to meet the woman I intend to marry,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Lydia looked at him.  “Will he grant her the necessary special permission for the conubium?”

“He didn’t say otherwise,” he replied coldly.

“Shouldn’t we ensure this girl is genuinely suitable for such a union?”

Ugh, why was this conversation taking such a frustrating turn?

It was making you angry.

Marcus, lips pressed into a thin line, paused to sip his wine, not saying a word.

"I will take her to the midwife tomorrow for an examination. I doubt she’s untouched,” she said, shooting you a look.

Suddenly, you felt your blood rush, and you stared at Marcus with wide eyes. But he shot a deadly look at Balbina. “There’s no need for that. It will not happen.” 

“But my son—” 

“I said it won’t happen!” he interjected, his tone slicing through the air like a knife.

“Look at what we’re talking about over dinner. What a family,” you mumbled to yourself.

"Commencing tomorrow, please ensure that all arrangements for the wedding are completed. I will be consulting with the high priest regarding the details."

“You said you were going to talk to him the other day,” you piped up. “Did you?”

Everyone turned to look at you again.

Oops, rude behavior alert.

“We’ll discuss it later,” he said, standing up and leaving the room, as cold as ever just like he always was.

But you weren’t going to let him go this time, so you followed him.

Something darted right next to your foot, small and with a tail.

Shit.

“Marcus—aaah!” You ran over to him, grabbing onto him for dear life. When he turned around at the sound of your voice, he regretted it; you lunged at him so fast he could barely hold you. But you didn’t care—the little mouse was still there, squeaking away.

“Rat! A freaking rat!” you squeaked louder than the rat.

“Calm down. It won’t harm you; it’s probably more terrified than you are,” he admonished, his tone steady as he tried to soothe your frayed nerves. In your frantic movements, your braided hair cascaded over your shoulder, drawing his attention. His gaze fell upon the mole nestled at the nape of your neck, his expression shifted to one of startled recognition, as if fragments of a long-buried memory were surfacing, stirring something deep within him.

You let out a sigh of relief when the rat finally disappeared.

Julius and Lydia came over, and what they saw was more shocking than the mouse. You froze, realizing how awkward things looked—your arms were wrapped around Marcus, and he was gripping your arms pretty tightly.

How did this even happen?

Damn it.

Marcus gently pushed your arms away to free himself, trying to regain his composure.

Julius crouched down, surveying the area in search of the rat. “We have been experiencing issues with the rats lately; it may be necessary to set some traps. I will arrange for the appropriate measures to deal with them,” he stated.

“That would be wise,” Marcus nodded, still glancing at you, while you looked away, still a bit freaked out about the rat.

“All this commotion over a mere mouse?” Lydia rolled her eyes and went back down the hallway.

Marcus turned the other way.

“Hey! You promised we’d go there!” you called out, quickening your pace to catch up with him.

“Make sure you’re ready to leave then,” he replied, his gaze fixed ahead, not sparing a glance back.

“Okay!” you exclaimed, a bright smile breaking through your unease as you hurried to your room to gather your belongings, unaware that you were heading into another failure.

Another melancholic morning unfurled, draped in a cloak of strangeness, with a profound sense of failure tugging at your heart like an unwelcome shadow. Like Marcus mentioned last night, the moon was almost a new moon—prevailing shades of gray, nothing really bright or dark.

Was that really what it was about?

That is why you can't go back?

The wait for the full moon felt like an endless ordeal, and you were anxious about how each day would pass without losing your mind. You really hoped it wouldn’t drag on until an eclipse occurred; that thought was gnawing at you.

As the girls got you dressed, you felt a warm rush running down your leg. Panic almost took hold, but luckily, your love for organization meant you had tampons tucked in your bag for unexpected situations like this —well not ike this but still— thank goodness for that. The girls looked at you in surprise; they must've had a different way of dealing with such things.

Honestly, being a woman was tough in any era.

The outfit you wore this time was brighter, adorned with sparkling gold jewelry that dangled from your wrists, arms, and neck. They even sang as they draped it on you, but it felt heavy and uncomfortable; you couldn't wait to strip it off.

Marcus was waiting for you in the courtyard. As you made your way down the stairs, you tugged at the new braid in your hair—it wasn’t your usual style at all. When you finally spotted him, his back turned, that flash of red from his shawl made your heart race again.

You should be mad at him—he was the guy who flipped your life upside down.You shook your head and tried to brush those dreamy feelings off. When he turned to face you, he paused for a second, and it felt like something shifted between you.

Alongside the anger, for the first time in ages, he felt his heart beat with real emotion, almost overwhelming. However he seemed to gather himself quickly, clearing his throat as he said, “If you’re ready, we shall take our leave,” but his eyes quickly fell to your big-ass bag—quite the contrast to your fancy outfit. “It would be inappropriate to bring that along."

Your frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it appears out of place, and I believe you will not require the contents within,” he explained.

“How can you say I won’t need it?” you protested.

Marcus sighed deeply and crossed his arms. “Can’t you just follow my orders? Do you always have to complain?”

You found your gaze drawn to his arms; the muscles were just a few inches from your face.

And those biceps...

What the hell?

You really need to get your shit together.

“Okay, okay, but I need to grab something,” you said, rummaging through your bag.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s a bit… feminine.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the confused look on his face. “Let me spell it out for you, Mr. General. You know how women have their monthly thing, right?”

He paused as if processing your words, having never encountered a woman talking about it so casually. It was a bit indecent in his time, but honestly, it didn’t seem to bother him too much. Perhaps he has become accustomed to your unique way of speaking by now.

Clearing his throat, “I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, turning away to give you some space.

You didn’t look up; you were still fixated on locating those tampons. “Come on, where are you? If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear.”

Those words.

Marcus froze mid-step, a shiver racing down his spine as a long-buried memory blossomed in his mind. A voice echoed from the recesses of his past, resonating with a sense of urgency that pulled him taut between the present and a fleeting recollection that danced just out of reach.

'Marcus! Where are you? If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear.'

The timbre of the voice reverberated in his thoughts, youthful and playful, yet unmistakably familiar. His heart fluttered like a dust-laden page roused by a gentle breeze, yearning to shake off the dust. The very sound was the reason he couldn't dare to move, standing still like a statue.

Julius stepped into the sun-drenched courtyard, his features etched with both surprise and concern as he took in the scene before him. "Brother?"

Marcus, however, was consumed by an unshakeable silence that pressed down around him like a heavy fog; his eyes were fixed intently on a singular point, as if the world around him had faded away. When he finally turned his gaze back to you, you stood there clutching your tampons awkwardly, the bright morning sun casting a warm glow over your obliviousness. As you meticulously zipped up your bag, a sense of urgency gripped the air, and you noticed Marcus drawing closer, his expression undeniably strange.

“Those words you just spoke...”

You raised your eyebrows, wondering if he was referring to your period.

“Could you repeat that?” His tone was oddly insistent.

Julius looked confused as he glanced between the two of you, but he couldn’t have been more puzzled than you were.

“Are you upset because I called you ‘Mr. General?” you asked timidly.

“No, not that,” he replied shaking his head..

You thought the last thing you said was... the rhyme.

"If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear. This one?"

He made a face as if you had cursed him.

“How do you know? Those words.”

What was his problem, really?

"I used to say it when playing hide and seek with my sister when we were little. What’s the big deal?”

"Is this saying recognized in your time? Do many individuals commonly use these words?"

“No, it’s just a code we made up to keep the game fun and free from getting caught,” you explained.

Marcus just stood there looking into your eyes. You really didn't understand what had happened.

Why was he acting like that?

His brown eyes pensive and piercing, compelling you to look away. You shifted your view to Julius, hoping for some clarity in this tangled situation.

Recovering from his own surprise, Julius placed a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Brother, we'd better leave now,” he urged.

With a slow nod, Marcus turned to head toward the courtyard's exit.

You called over to one of the slave girls, asking her to take your bag back to your room—carefully, of course. As she took it, a wave of sadness washed over you at parting with it, mixed with anxiety about the trip to Circus Maximus, which was just a ruin back in your time. With your period and cramps to contend with, you braced yourself for a challenging day ahead.

“Oh, my God.”

That was your immediate reaction the moment you stepped into the magnificent Circus Maximus. A maelstrom of emotions—fear, denial, panic, and disbelief—swirled within you. This couldn’t possibly be real. Yet, as you took in the splendor surrounding you, you realized it was as tangible as the marble floor beneath your feet—the cool stone grounding you in this extraordinary moment.

The images of RPG ambient videos you had scrolled through online flickered through your mind. Video games, films, and TV series had painted scenes like this, but nothing could prepare you for this overwhelming spectacle. It was beyond anything your imagination could conceive, far surpassing the vivid renderings of your fantasies. The grandstands of the colossal racing venue rose like ancient giants, filled with spectators—each face a mixture of excitement and anticipation. The air buzzed with the vibrant sounds of voices, lively music, thundering drums, piercing whistles, shouts of encouragement, and cheers echoing like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore. Instinctively, you recoiled, stepping back as the enormity of what lay before you threatened to swallow you whole. It was a blend of shock and awe—a devastating reality that ignited an exhilarating spark within you. When Marcus gently touched your arm, his presence snapped you back to reality. You noticed the tension in his expression, a slight nervous bite of his lower lip, mirroring the storm of emotions churning inside you. Your own palms felt clammy, not from the heat of the sun, but from sheer wonder.

“This way,” Marcus said.

Julius gestured in a direction, and instinctively, you turned, though your gaze was still captured by the spectacle surrounding you. Wherever you looked, your eyes were met with an entirely new detail—each one more fascinating than the last, drawing you deeper into this vivid reality. The dizzying array of sights threatened to overwhelm your senses, and the thought of finding a seat crossed your mind.

Nevertheless, you followed Marcus, enchanted yet bewildered, likely with your mouth agape and eyes wide in astonishment. Several times you stumbled on the uneven stones, clinging to his arm to steady yourself. He then admonished you to look ahead and be cautious. He reminded you to stay focused and watch your step. You squinted at him; this was a mind-blowing experience for you. He must understand how hard it was for you, but why should you be surprised?

He was a cold bastard with no empathy.

“You’d better acclimate to the flowing fabric of that long dress, soon you'll be wearing a stola all the time.” Julius said with a chuckle.

Being a costume designer, you knew exactly what he meant and what a stola was. You’d done some design work and sewing yourself before. 'We’ll see about that,' you thought as you continued walking, stopping whenever Marcus did.

Your heart raced when you caught sight of someone in a huge imperial box wearing a shiny golden crown.

Jesus Christ, it was him.

Septimius freaking Severus.

What you were seeing felt like something straight out of a historian's wildest dreams. He was the focus of tons of term papers and theses. Those statues you'd seen, the busts in all those exhibits, auction houses, and museums didn’t prepare you for this moment.

Here he was, in the flesh and blood—totally alive.

You’d have sounded ridiculous if you told anyone about this in 2025; they would’ve laughed for ages. But right now, it was so real. The folks who made the statues, the artists who painted him, and even those who did 3D renders of his face online nailed it. You couldn’t help but think of how great it would be to tell them when you got back that he really did look like that. You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling at the idea.

You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that it was him. But then you caught yourself just staring.

Oh, right.

Marcus had reminded you not to gawk at the emperor, not to turn your back, and only to speak if he asked you to. So, you gave him a respectful nod instead.

"I believe you are the woman General Acacius wishes to marry." His voice dripped with condescension as he scrutinized you from head to toe, making you feel exposed and uncomfortable. A shiver ran down your spine, and you quickly averted your gaze, only to realize that Caracalla was seated right beside his father. His expression twisted with disdain, as if your very presence was a foul stench, and just as quickly, he turned away. You weren’t eager to see him either; what was with that arrogant attitude?

"Do you have a name girl?"

In that moment, you and Marcus responded in unison.

"Rose."

"Rosa."

Oops, speaking of inappropriate behavior...

Marcus glared at you and you gave him a “What?” look with your eyes.

The emperor and his sons cracked up, and it was obvious where the princes picked up that laugh.

“General is also correct. However, in my homeland, we pronounce it ‘Rose,’ your majesty,” you said, trying to avoid using modern words and respectfully bowing your head.

He laughed again. "I understand. I appreciate your explanation, Rosa.”

You smiled, well he didn't seem like a bad guy. He was probably in his sixties, with gray in his curly long hair.

"She possesses a remarkable propensity to speak quite assertively," Geta murmured, giving you a meaningful look. He had a handsome look going for him, but he wasn't really your type. If he hadn't tried to kill you before, you might’ve felt a bit semphaty for him, but all you felt now was anger and irritation.

“All women possess the ability to speak assertively, my son,” Severus responded with a laugh, prompting a grin from Geta. Caracalla appeared preoccupied with his own thoughts. "I believe you and she would make a suitable pair, Acacius, especially given your reserved nature."

Marcus lowered his head respectfully. "With your esteemed permission, Emperor Severus."

Severus nestled comfortably in his box, adjusting one of his rings with a confident smile. "You have my permission, Acacius, and you will soon receive the contract documents you requested. You may commence preparations at your house. May God Juno bless your union," he declared, raising his wine glass at you two. His evident happiness was striking, more so than that of Marcus.

No, you were wrong.

You didn't like him.

Geta and Caracalla exchanged looks, their expressions unimpressed. Marcus thanked the emperor, and when the drums started, he pointed to the bleachers. You were sitting with the Senate, right next to the emperor. Lucilla and Lucius were with you. Marcus greeted Lucilla and took a seat beside her, motioning for you to join. Julius was on your other side. Once you sat down, you checked out the fancy gold-embroidered chair, running your fingers over the details.

Suddenly, the loud sound of the horn shocked you, and you found yourself clapping along with the crowd, not even sure what for, but it felt impressive. Honestly, it was probably the tranquilizer making you feel unreasonably cheerful.

A moment later, you regretted clapping because one of the gates banged open, and two gladiators stepped out onto the sand, their names called out.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

"You said there’d be a chariot race," you whispered anxiously to Marcus.

Marcus continued to clap, perfectly calm. "The opening often begins with a combat."

"As the dust settles from the fierce combat, the races truly begins with bets being placed," Julius remarked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“I thought they were having gladiator fights in the Colosseum,” you said, hiding your face partway with your hand because you couldn’t bear to look at the arena, swallowing hard.

Marcus's lips curled in a smile. "Do you really believe the Colosseum is simply a place for battles?"

"It was in the movies," you murmured.

Lucilla intervened. "Most gladiatorial combats and battles occurs there, along with theatrical performances and a variety of events that captivates the hearts of the citizens."

Thank you, Google, you thought.

You turned your gaze away, resolutely refusing to watch as the two men clashed violently before you. It was an overwhelming sight, more than you could bear. Yet, the crowd around you was entranced, their eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and morbid curiosity. You’d never understood those who reveled in such brutality, watching with bated breath and eager anticipation. The tension coiled within you as you gripped the edge of your seat, your knuckles white from anxiety.

“It’s clearly your first time,” Lucius remarked, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observed your strained expression. Marcus noticed that Lucius was paying attention to you. He tensed up but managed to stay calm. “Don’t your people have events like this one where you come from?”

“Thankfully, no,” you replied, your voice shaky as you darted your eyes nervously away from him.

But then a bitter truth pierced your thoughts. War had always been a constant shadow, lurking everywhere in your time as well. Despite the advancements in technology and the sheen of modern civilization, humanity seemed perpetually eager for conflict, always seeking justification to spill blood.

War had always existed.

This was merely its most primal form.

When the desperate clamor of the fight faded, anticipation surged through the crowd as the much-anticipated chariot races began. Excitement rippled like electricity, pulling everyone into its fervor, but you remained tense, the gruesome images of men savagely attacking one another still etched in your mind. Even as you shielded your face with your hands, the vivid memories assaulted you—the metallic tang of blood faintly lingering in the air, the sharp, jarring resonance of swords clashing echoed in your ears.

The races, however, were something beyond your wildest imagination. They were a whirlwind of color and speed, a breathtaking spectacle that held your attention captive. But in the middle of all the excitement, there was an annoying issue. The dust kicked up by the roaring chariots mixed with the leftover smoke from earlier, making your nose itch and sending you into a sneezing fit.

Really, why was it that ancient times were so achingly dusty and filled with smoke?

Everyone was buzzing with excitement over their bets. Lucilla and Lucius were all in for the blue team, while Julius was convinced the white team would take it.

“What say you Rosa?” Lucius asked.

You furrowed your brow, still trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. “I’m not really sure how this works.”

“It relies on the capabilities of the horses and their chariot drivers,” Julius replied, his enthusiasm evident. “For instance, the driver of the white team demonstrated commendable performance in the previous race.”

“How can you be certain of that? You were not present for the last race; you did not witness it firsthand,” Lucius interjected.

Julius shrugged. “It is not solely about observing the race. It involves having knowledge and experience. I believe the white team possesses a strong chance of success.”

In contrast, Lucius stated with assurance, “You are mistaken; the blue team is better motivated.”

“Red will emerge victorious,” Marcus asserted confidently, reaching into his pouch to produce several denarii, which he offered to you. “This is your opportunity to participate in betting. I suggest you place your faith in the red team.”

You accepted the coins, a sense of excitement washing over you. “Can I really bet?”

“You may place a bet on my behalf,” he responded with a gentle smile.

Whoa.

You didn’t expect that, and it caught you off guard in a good way.

After heading with Julius to place your bet, you returned, settling down to watch the race with bated breath. You were so focused that you didn’t notice all the times Marcus glanced your way, lost in thought about what you’d said earlier.

Those words.

Was it just a strange coincidence?

Voices melded into a cacophony, yet it was as though only your vibrant figure existed in that moment. His feelings, surprisingly raw and unguarded, danced around him like whispers of a forgotten memory.

Why were these emotions surfacing now?

After all these years, how could he find himself feeling this way again?

Suddenly, the thrill of your betting team’s victory had swept you away, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but hug Marcus tightly. You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you for bringing a spark of happiness into your otherwise somber mood, if only for a fleeting moment.

Your arms wound around his neck, your hair brushing softly against his cheek, and in that instant, he was overwhelmed.

The sensation struck him with the force of an unexpected arrow, piercing right through the defenses he thought impenetrable. But just as quickly, denial swept in, a survival instinct kicking in like a shield as the reality of the moment crashed over him.

He needed to remove that arrow.

Gently but firmly, he took hold of your arms, easing you back and breaking the physical connection that made him feel vulnerable.

“Oops! Sorry,” you said, a light chuckle escaping your lips. “But you guessed right, psycho—well, general, you’re incredible.”

Julius laughed too. "My brother consistently demonstrates wisdom in his judgments. In retrospect, I realize that I should have also considered placing my bets on the red team."

Marcus, however, remained quiet. He fell into a pensive silence, his thoughts drifting like leaves in the wind as he watched the final races unfold.

As an unfortunate time traveler, after several days filled with overwhelming melancholy and sour moods, you found yourself accompanying Balbina and her daughter Lydia to the market one day. The whole marriage nonsense weighed heavily on your mind, but you had no choice but to play along, despite your deep disdain for it. You kept reminding yourself to hold on until the full moon, convinced it would surely open the way back home—it had to, for the sake of your sanity.

All the while, your thoughts were consumed with worries about Lizze, leaving you unable to shake the painful possibilities surrounding her. You barely noticed that Balbina and Lydia were cruelly chatting about you as you wandered through the market, specifically in a fabric shop where they were buying everything for the wedding. Usually, working with fabric brought you joy, igniting excitement over new designs and upcoming projects. But not here. You loathed every moment, just as you despised your former wedding dress, which felt as if it had invisible words scrawled across it: 'abandoned on the altar by the groom.' That very dress, which you had designed and carefully sewn, had ended up in tears, frustration, and curses as you ripped it apart.

Slaves carried bolts of cloth, while Balbina engaged in animated conversation with someone nearby. Eyes were on you, just like that day at Circus Maximus; it seemed as if you had become some sort of celebrity in this world—the outlander girl the General was destined to marry.

How lovely.

You crossed your arms, looking away as a vendor enthusiastically offered you various fabrics. Just as you were about to decline and turn around, you heard a noise—a familiar voice you had long yearned to hear.

Your father’s voice.

Could you have imagined it?

Surely your brain was playing tricks on you from the tranquilizers you’d taken. No, you needed to see the face behind that voice to be sure. Your heart raced as you turned around, and there he was.

Damn it, it was him.

Though his hair looked different, the familiar face remained unchanged—those wrinkles around his eyes you remembered from the last time you saw him back in the hospital. The distinctive smile you recalled from your old days before the accident was still there. He stood before you in a Roman senator's toga, and for a moment, you were frozen in shock, paralyzed until he vanished from view. At that moment, Lydia's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.

You had to act, and fast.

Your instincts kicked in, propelling you into the throng of people, your heart set on finding your father or the man who bore such a striking resemblance of him. The shouts of Lydia and the others quickly dimmed as you maneuvered through the throngs of people, pushing aside those who got in your way, seeing them merely as obstacles. Soon, you reached a quieter street and spotted him again, standing beside a palanquin that slaves had lowered to the ground, conversing with someone inside.

As you crept closer, a whirlwind of questions flooded your mind.

What would you say first?

What would you do?

How could you ask if he recognizes you without bursting into tears?

Lectica—you suddenly remembered the word roman use for the palanquin—moved forward alongside the man, who continued speaking to the figure within. Your eagerness to see his face took precedence over all else until you caught the mention of a familiar name.

"We have decided to postpone our plan to eliminate Acacius," a woman’s voice chimed in, striking a chord in your memory.

"I heard that he is set to marry soon, my lady," your father replied, each syllable unmistakably his. Yet you forced yourself to listen; there was no room for tears now.

"He is to wed an outlander, someone of little significance—which serves our interests."

"As you wish, my lady. I shall gather near the Colosseum with the others when night falls."

With that, the slaves hurried the lectica along, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. As the curtain fell shut with a soft rustle, you barely caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s profile—Lucilla.

You found yourself torn between two shocking revelations: Lucilla's deceitful plans and the unsettling truth that your father's doppelganger was not only involved in those schemes but also had a sinister side.

As you trailed behind the man, your courage began to wane, and your physical strength was fading even faster. After walking for so long, the soles of your feet ached with each step. How did people in this era manage to walk everywhere without collapsing from exhaustion?

Your father's doppelganger turned down another street, and your foot caught on one of the uneven stones. You stumbled and landed hard on your knee. “Oh, crap,” you muttered, instinctively lifting the hem of your skirt to inspect the wound. Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed that you were right outside a pleasure house—definitely not ideal territory. The man you were following disappeared into a large two-story building at the street's end. You decided to rest there until he emerged; your body was already protesting from pain and fatigue.

Just then, two really drunk men stumbled into view, their eyes locking onto you with unsettling interest.

“What are you staring at?” you barked at them.

Seriously, what was it with people in this time and their fascination with women’s legs?

The men laughed and sauntered away.

“That's really you,” a familiar voice chimed in, and you turned to see Lucius wearing that infuriating grin of his. When had he shown up, and where had he come from?

He glanced around before focusing back on you. “What brings you out here alone? Are you out of your mind?”

“Can't you see I hurt my knee?” you replied, frowning.

“Not just me, all men around here see that,” he said, crouching beside you. With a gentle tug, he adjusted the hem of your skirt to cover your exposed legs. "You'll live." Ah, yes, for people in this era, a simple injury like yours barely registered. “Does the general know you’re here?”

“Why do you care?”

He smirked. "Do you even realize where you are?"

You looked around at the bustling street. Men and women mingled, laughter drifting from the house behind you. One of the women lifted her skirt, flirting with a man, and suddenly it clicked.

Oh, no.

So that’s what showing legs was all about.

“Ugh,” you said, grimacing in disgust.

Lucius chuckled. “You’re quite a unique woman. I wonder why the General seeks to marry you, as he has always been perceived as emotionally distant from any woman, even from whores.” He cast a glance toward the house.

But his question didn’t pique your interest; instead, you fixated on his remark.

Does he never visit here?

You didn’t know why that made you feel so relieved.

“None of your business,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “It’s clear you frequent this place often, given how well you know the faces that come and go.”

He shrugged casually, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. “If I were fortunate enough to find a beauty like you to marry, I wouldn’t need to visit this establishment to fulfill my desires,” he replied, his gaze piercing into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. It made you feel both intrigued and uneasy, as if he could see right through your defenses with his blue eyes. "Do you have the strength to rise? This streets can become increasingly perilous for a woman, particularly once the sun sets."

Panic suddenly washed over you, and you placed your hand on the cobblestones, trying to push yourself up but failed. Lucius sighed, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms.

“Hey, put me down!” you protested.

“Where’s your carriage? I’ll take you,” he replied nonchalantly.

Your face fell. “I don’t know.”

Lucius laughed, a sound filled with genuine amusement. “Allow me to guess, you find yourself lost, do you not?”

Reluctantly, you wrapped your arm around his neck. “Yes, congratulations, genius.”

"You’re uncivilized and indecent girl, but oddly enough, I'm starting to like you more," he remarked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“And I’m growing to hate you more. You’re not at all what I thought you were.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you know me before?”

Yeah, from the museum and history books.

“Just put me down; I can walk,” you insisted.

“I’ll carry you to the General’s villa.”

“That’s not necessary. Why are you even helping me?” Apparently, he wasn't as malicious as his mother, but trust was a different matter.

“I owe Acacius, and I don’t like being in debt,” he explained.

“You owe him?”

“It’s quite the tale, my dear flower. But first, I have to ask—are you certain you want to marry him?” he asked suddenly. “If there’s any doubt in your heart, why not marry me instead? Trust me, you won’t regret it,” he said. His fingers tightened around your legs as he leaned in, gazing at your lips.

You smacked him right in the face. “Put me down now!” you yelled, trying to break free.

He sighed and said, "Alright, I deserve this. I apologize."

His expression fell as you averted your eyes. People on the street stared as you two passed, but Lucius didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.

When you arrived at the villa, Lucius was carefully lowering you down when Julius noticed and sprinted toward you, looking pretty worried.

“Where have you been? We have all been concerned.” 

His gaze shifted to Lucius, whose self-satisfied smirk only deepened Julius's frown.

“Julius, I—” you began, your voice wavering, but your words faltered as you spotted Marcus emerging from the shadows behind him, his face a storm cloud of anger.

“How could you run away through the streets recklessly? Didn't I warn you before? It’s beyond irresponsible!” he thundered, his brow furrowed in disappointment.

You bit your lip, trying to defend yourself. “Just let me explain—”

He looked at Lucius. “What about you? Did I summon you to Rome at great risk to my men only so you could walk aimlessly through the streets?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to save the woman you are betrothed to if I hadn’t been walking those very streets, General.”

Marcus exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “For that, I am grateful. Now return to your mother. And if you hold any affection for her, cleave to caution.”

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re my father, because you are not,” Lucius retorted sharply.

“Lucius, how dare you speak like that to him?” Julius exploded, his fist clenching in anger as he lunged forward. But Marcus intercepted him, his grip firm yet steady, forcing his brother to halt.

Lucius merely motioned for them both to silence themselves before melting into the shadows.

A heavy silence settled in the aftermath of Lucius's departure, and though Marcus uttered no words, the hurt etched on his features spoke volumes. The sudden intensity of his gaze shifted to you, and you felt a knot form in your throat. “Why did you leave without a word? You know I’m responsible for your safety.”

“I didn't mean to, I saw some....thing and then I got lost.”

He raised his finger and pointed inside. “Return to your room at once. You are not to set foot outside this villa until the wedding.”

“Look, Marcus, you don't have to marry me. I don't want to either, I can take care of myself.”

“Not here! This is not your time. The Emperor has already granted approval, and all arrangements have been finalized.”

“I can’t marry! It’s impossible—you don’t understand how hard this is for me.”

“It’s not a real marriage, after all. It’s for your own protection. Why can’t you understand that? Why won’t you let me keep you safe?” 

“You think you can handle everything, don’t you, General? But you’re completely missing the traitor lurking right under your nose. How ironic.” 

He paused, tilting his head slightly to the side, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”

“I saw Lady Lucilla in conversation with a man.” It didn’t seem like the right moment to reveal that the man was the ancient Roman version of your father. “They were discussing you, plotting to get rid of you or eliminate—”

Suddenly, he rushed over, cupping your jaw and pressing his hand against your mouth. “One more word and I'll cut off your tongue.”

You gasped in fear.

Julius placed a hand on his brother's arm. “Calm yourself, Marcus,” he urged, but Marcus brushed him off and pressed on. “I told you to show respect when you speak of her. Do you really think you know her better than I do?”

You struggled to push his hand away from your mouth. “Sure, who am I to say anything, right?”

He was taken aback by your defiance.

“Believe it or not, they’re meeting tonight near the Colosseum. If you don’t trust me, go see for yourself!” you yelled, pushing his arm away with force. You stumbled into the courtyard, mumbling under your breath and touching where his fingers hurt your jaw.

“What a brutal bastard. I hate you.” 

At night, you found yourself pacing in that damn room, lost in thought and unsure of what to do. Balbina and Lydia were even angrier with you after what happened today, and you definitely didn’t want to face them. Alone in the dim light, as anxiety clawed mercilessly at your insides, you felt the familiar grip tighten around your chest.

With an urgent flick of your wrist, you hurled your bag over your shoulder and slipped out of the room, your heart racing with the hope of escape. It was bedtime now, and in the stillness of the night, the villa felt like a prison, with your room resembling a cell. You thought of heading to the temple to read the parchment. Perhaps this time it would work. You just needed to get out, and fast.

“Are you going somewhere?” a voice broke through your thoughts.

Oh, crap. You hadn’t even descended the stairs yet.

Julius leaned against the balustrade, watching you. You hadn’t spotted him in the shadows. As he approached, his eyes fell on the bag slung over your shoulder. "I assume you were heading to the temple?"

“Hmm, looks like you know me well now,” you responded, forcing a nervous laugh.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “You really are stubborn. Please, leave your bag in the room and come with me.”

“I can’t just leave it behind.”

"Please, I made a promise to my brother to take care of you, so I really need to ensure you stay inside the villa."

“Where is he?”

He sighed and stated, “He has gone to the location you previously mentioned.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He decided to believe me now?”

“He’s not quite who you think he is. Allow me to clarify a few things about him.”

“All right,” you relented, heading back to your room to drop off your bag. But as you entered, you noticed a plate of fruit on the table so tossed the bag onto the bed. You left the room, not caring that it fell and scattered its contents everywhere.

Anger surged within you.

As if Marcus wasn't enough to contend with, here was Julius blocking your way. You felt isolated; nobody from this time understood you, and you couldn’t make sense of them either.

You were taken aback when Julius led you to the stables. Still, you followed him, sensing he was taking you somewhere else. The disgusting smell hit you, but oddly, you realized you had grown used to it. A small garden and a fountain lay ahead. Julius gestured to a boulder and sat down opposite it.

“My brother and I used to come here to practice swordplay in our youth,” he began. “He was older, so he’d let me act like I was winning. Our father would watch us from over there.” He sighed deeply. “We were so happy back then, and I was still young when he passed. It was my brother who comforted me after that; he always protected me, even stepping up as a father. Unfortunately, I was unable to protect what was most precious to him.”

You looked at him, intrigued and puzzled.

What did he mean?

“Have you ever loved a man deeply?” he asked.

“Like romantic love? I thought I did once, but it was a mistake. Honestly, I think love is pointless. It’s illogical to care for someone more than yourself.”

“He did," He cut you off. "My brother.”

“Marcus? He loved someone? Wow, that’s hard to imagine.”

“He wasn’t always like this. He used to be cheerful, hopeful, full of life.”

It was hard to believe, but your curiosity kept you listening. “He loved a girl, innocent and bright. He treasured her above all else, treating her like the most beautiful yet fragile thing.  Their connection stood in stark contrast to the bonds I witnessed between my mother and father, or those of other couples, resonating with a unique depth and tenderness."

“I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming,”  you said softly, hoping to lift his spirits, as the sadness in his eyes made you feel uneasy.

“However her family and my father weren’t in favor of their union. Though they chose to pause their arrangements, their hearts remained intertwined, steadfast in love. Then, my brother enlisted in the army, bravely stepping into the tumult of his first war. When he returned, however, he faced a devastating revelation. The girl he had intended to marry had been sacrificed to the temple of Vesta, her fate sealed by her family's offering."

You remember the Vesta virgins from your history readings; they could never marry and were bound to the temple for their lifetime.

It tugged at your heart.

“What did Marcus do?”

“He was devastated and furious, but there was nothing he could do. At least, that’s what everyone thought, including me. He loved her fiercely, and she was miserable in that temple. At first, he asked my father to speak to the emperor, but to no avail. The rules were set in stone. He tried everything he could; I was a witness to it all, and in the end, he made a choice.”

You tensed up. “What kind of choice?”

“He concocted a daring plan to sneak her out of the sacred Temple of Vesta, to spirit her away from the heart of Rome to a pastoral village where his commander, Maximus, lived peacefully with his family. But first, destiny called him to join Maximus in the northern legion, to face the ruthless onslaught of the Germans. When they returned, the Rome they knew had shifted irrevocably; Commodus had ascended to the throne and brutally punished Maximus for daring to defy him. This cruel turn of fate shattered my brother’s hopes, costing him not only his commander but also the chance to fulfill a promise made to the woman he loved. The sequence of events becomes a blur, but after Commodus’s demise, my brother saw a flicker of hope amidst the chaos that had engulfed the Senate. It was then he resolved to rescue her from the confines of the temple. Instead of serving a corrupt Rome, he chose to serve her. One of the temple guards, a loyal friend, agreed to aid him; they meticulously plotted their escape, with my brother awaiting their rendezvous at the harbor under the veil of that night. Yet, fate turned against them once more; despite their careful planning, they were apprehended just as they sought the promise of freedom. The guards, quick to act, seized the two of them, the priests punishing them for the offense they were clearly guilty of."

“The two of them?” you echoed, incredulous.

“They believed my brother's friend was her lover, as they didn't reveal my brother's name.” Julius looked at you with tears in his eyes. “They made a sacrifice to protect him.”

You swallowed hard. “Sacrifice?” you struggled to maintain your composure. “How did they..." Your heart was racing. "What do you mean by that?”

You knew the horrific punishment a priestess of Vesta faced for treachery, but it still felt unbelievable.

You dreaded what you were about to hear. “Oh god, don’t tell me…” you gasped.

Julius’ sighed deeply. “They… buried her alive.”

Your eyes flew open in shock as your heart raced. You pressed your hands tightly against your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the disbelief that overwhelmed you. An icy wave of dread, like a thousand icy fingers, ran down your spine, causing your entire body to tremble uncontrollably. Hot tears cascaded down your cheeks, blurring your vision as your surroundings spun around you.

How could anyone justify inflicting such a horrific and inhumane punishment on an innocent girl?

When Marcus stepped into the villa, an overwhelming weight settled in his chest, pressing down like a storm cloud ready to burst. Fury boiled within him, directed at Lucilla—the very woman he had been shadowing for the entire night—who was precisely where you had said she would be.

Lucilla.

The disappointment of betrayal weighed heavily on Marcus. He had placed his complete trust in this woman, offering support in her time of need. He struggled to comprehend how she could have turned against him. He fought against disbelief, yet the truth he had witnessed was undeniable. With a sense of urgency, he pushed doubts to the back of his mind, focusing instead on finding you to offer the apology he owed. He had wronged you, and the weight of that realization gnawed at him. It was late, likely past the hour when you were asleep, but something pulled him toward your room with an untamed instinct.

He cast a glance through the doorway, but found it eerily empty. The absence of your presence left him baffled. Just as he was about to retreat, a whirlwind of curiosity and concern surged through him, spurred by the chaos strewn across the floor—your bag sprawled open, its contents carelessly scattered.

“Rosa?” he called softly, stepping carefully inside. Silence wrapped around him, intensifying the chaos he observed. Frustration surged within him as he took in the mess you had made, yet an odd impulse to tidy up tugged at him, thinking how reckless you were, even when it came to your belongings.

As he crouched to gather your things, something caught his eye amidst the mess. It was your wallet. Normally, he wouldn’t pay much attention to your peculiar assortment of trinkets, but the sight of a photo nestled inside made him freeze, breath caught in his throat.

There it was—a vibrant snapshot of your twelve-year-old self, beaming with joy beside little Lizzie at age five.

At 26, the years had transformed your appearance but he could notice it was your younger version.

But that wasn't the real issue.

Not at all.

What truly struck him was your striking resemblance to someone embedded in his heart and realization crushed him, gripping his heart relentlessly, leaving him breathless.

The bewilderment consumed him.

The puzzle pieces of his youth began to scatter chaotically in his mind, and he found himself grappling with the impossible question.

How could you possibly look so much like her?

For over twenty years, he had cherished her memory, but as time marched on, the details faded: the nuances of her face, the sound of her laugh, the scent of her presence…

Only the pain remained, like a knife stabbed into his heart—unyielding and sharp.

Yet now this picture breathed life into everything he thought he had put to rest. Her smile was unmistakable; it was the same radiant energy that had once filled his world with light.

A whirlwind of thoughts engulfed him, turning sense into nonsense and clarity into chaos. He sank to the floor, cradling the photograph in his trembling hands, his heart racing as if trying to escape his chest. Memories flooded back from the day he lost her, the moment his world crumbled.

He could almost hear the echo of the words he had held onto when he awoke: “Your prayers have been answered, child.”

He then recalled the moment, how you spoke those words just like her previous day. It was between Marcus and her; no one could know that, but you knew somehow.

Then the mole on the back of your neck was in the very same spot as hers.

Again, the very phrase, “Your prayers have been answered, child,” drifted through his thoughts like a haunting melody.

He had only one prayer: to die and reunite with the woman he loved in another life.

Were you truly her reincarnation?

Why couldn’t you recall anything about him?

Could it be that you were just a figment of his imagination?

No, it couldn’t be.

He knew that you were real, made of flesh and blood.

The last memory he had of the woman he cherished was of her at twelve, which might explain why he hadn’t recognized you. With his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, he grappled with a surge of emotions.

Why?

If the gods had answered his prayer, why hadn’t they returned him to her? This woman may look like her, but she truly is not.

Or was she?

What intricate tapestry of fate had been woven here, and what lesson lay hidden in its threads?

After a time lost in contemplation, he wiped away the tears that had escaped his resolute facade and stood up, determination surging within him.

Questions could linger in the shadows for a while longer; there was something he needed to confirm above all else.

Were you truly her?

hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️

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[2hotwing]

hello, I just woke up from a dream where MK was my lover or something. it felt really real and I haven't been in love with someone for awhile. tarot please what did the dream with him mean? and pendulum will MK and I date? tysm!

The Strength card came out for what your dream means! Is MK someone you used to have a crush on or something? Or is MK someone who currently has a lot of influence on your feelings? Something about Strength coming out for an answer about a dream lover feels like you may be very lonely right now, ans that your subconscious may have latched on to someone who is being kind to you or giving you a familiar environment. Either way you should keep trying to be positive, and have patience when it comes to your love life.

For the pendulum question I got a no!