#the empire is obviously rome

[nothing-but-flowers88]

Ok with the gladiator 2 trailers what about an ancient empire Star Wars au with Din posing as a gladiator with Greef pretending to be his sponsor to get close to his next bounty, only to catch the attention of famous sorcerer he’s never heard of who can see right through his lie and wants to help him. Plus Luke in one of those laurel wreaths would be so cute

[aroacettorney]

au where bretus kindom took marias selmore as hostage to blackmail casey and have her track down heathcliff van bretus for them

[coolunspokenforname]

There needs to be a pompeii movie with Pompeii MMXXIII by Bastille as one of the main songs. Like, it's gotta be played while the volcano erupts and ash buries the city and people are running and screaming.

[zanmor]

ok but it's like being mayor of Rome at the height of the Roman Empire

you ever think about how in star wars the four heroes that overthrew the tyrannical empire and inagurated a new government are the princess of a tragically destroyed planet, a wisecracking rogue, the last heir of a religious order of wizards who do actual literal magic, and.........a city mayor

[nemesyaaa]

now, we're free (gladiator au) // gladiator!rafe x daughter of the empreror!reader

summary ; you were much superior to him, the daughter of the emperor and the future of rome. you could have him killed just for a glance or a touch, but it felt like everytime you were with him, rafe was the one to holds the power. when fire met gasoline...

tropes/genre ; forbidden relationship. tragedy. good person, wrong time. bodyguard dynamic. slight of ennemies to lovers to etablished relationship. royalty/roman empire. bittersweet fluff.

warnings ; violence, war mention, blood, little age gap, angst, tension, death. suggestive content (not smut.). men are trash. abuse of power. corruption. minors dni.

author's note ; i think it's obvious that i watched Gladiator ii and i'm just obssessed with the whole movie.

— as a child of the Roman empire, Rome was your home but also the name of your tragedy.

the story began when rafe was assigned to your protection. it was obvious that the mission didn't delight him but it was the emperor's order and he could not contest it. he found it terribly humiliating for a soldier of his rank to be under the rule of a spoiled little princess like you. he had no desire to be your nanny or the victim of your whims. you already had a thousand servants for this.

SO this is why you weren't meant to love him. you were out of his league and much superior to him. you were literally the princess of an empire, what could it offer you that was better than what you already had? and despite his charming face, you weren't really attracted by his nonchalance and coldness, especially knowing that it was only reserved for you. with the others, he seemed more human. but with you, it was just a machine following orders.

because of that, you started provoking him on purpose, spreading chaos wherever you went only to see him running after you. if only you knew how mad you made him every time he's forced to apologize or take the blame for you, how miserable he felt when you push him on his knees just to tie one of your shoes or just for the pleasure of seeing him under your feets. he was so sick of you that he was holding himself everytime you call him to not killing you.

you were smart. damn, he hated knowing that there was a brain in your head that was giving you all these stupid ideas that were driving him crazy, that forced him to constantly follow your ass like a raging dog.

but one day, it was enough for him.

he was just tired of you treating him like a slave. you were perhaps the princess but you needed correction, to have a minimum of discipline. your education had to be redone and he was going to take care of it.

and the night you tried to escape from your room had been the perfect opportunity. you opened the door silently and so naively while rafe was waiting for you right here.

because he was your bodyguard for over years, he started to obviously know you because he was someone very observant. he didn't talk too much, answering the least possible, staying quiet behind you even when you were yapping for more than hours. he was watching you from behind, listening to you in silence. you will be surprised by how far he knows you, how he can predict every one of your moves.

“where do you think you're going? ”

“i'm going to the toilet. can i ? ” you replied sarcastically.

“now, you're lying to me. ” his voice raising through his gritted teeth.

“leave me alone. i need to go. ”

“oh no, i don't think so. you're not going anywhere with that sick annoying attitude with me. you know what i think? ”

“ do i need to pretend that i care ? ”

“ you're too much of a spoiled princess. no one dares to stand in front of you, to tell you no so guess i'm gonna be the first. " his scary blue gaze was fixed on you, literally judging you with all the hatred he had for you, making you feel even more little than you already were.

“you just said it, i'm the princess. you have no power against me. you're not allowed to speak to me like that. "

“there is no one there so i'm your only ruler. it means that i'm gonna do whatever i want. so go back to your bed. "

It was a bit insulting that he saw you only as a spoiled brat. and you then frowned, placing your arms on your chest contemptuously.

"what is that look? Or you hating me princess, or you just don't like the truth ? "

“fuc’ yourself.”

you tried to close the door but he blocked it with his arm. “ is that all you've got, princess ? so disapointed. ”

he was so much stronger than you as much as he was taller, towering over you with all his height. “ you're the only one who needs to be fucked. don't be happy about it, i'm not gonna be the one.”

“ sure. you're so afraid to be killed by my dad after taking my virginity. loser. ”

the smirk on his face was brighter. he entered your room before closing the door. as he walked, you were forced to step back until reaching your bed and falling into your sheets.

“ don't ask me for things you're gonna cry later. you're not that brave, princess. ”

“ why do you hate me so much ? ”

“ can't i ? if it was not for your dad, i will not be there. ”

his words were mean. they were like bullets. and you tried so hard to not be affected by them, to not let him see your emotions through the sparkles of your gaze.

“ but you're. i don't care how much it is against your will because you belong to me. you can hate me with all your guts but it's only a torture for you. because while i rule my world, you're forced to be there, to be by my side anytime, to focus on me, to watch me all day, to follow my orders. so if you want to be hard on me, i'm gonna be harder. ”

he laughed through his breath. he took his sword on his hands and swayed the blade just in front of your throat. “ i can kill you, princess. look at you…you're shivering when i'm all ready to cut your flesh. do you know what that means ? that you should be kinder to me because i'm tired and sick of your attitude. ”

“ you're my bodyguard. aren’t you supposed to protect me ? you really suck. ”

“ i'm gonna treat you well when you're begin to show me respect. ”

“ you're the only one who needs to show me respect. i'm your superior. ”

“ really ? but you see, when i'm looking at you princess...i see nothing superior. ”

you were so frustrated. but he was right, you were too spoiled to accept that someone doesn't follow your will. your eyes were glossy because of the upcoming tears, and your sensitive side.

“ playing the victim doesn't work with me. you were not that nice when you made my life a living hell. ”

“ i'm gonna report everything to my dad. and you'll be executed. ”

“ that's your will ? ” he said, leaning over you. you turned your face away, unable to looking at him but he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to keep your eyes inside his. “ i said. that's your will. answer me. i know damn well how that annoying mouth of yours can speak. ”

“ don't touch me. ”

“ you were this pathetic before i've even touched you. don't put the blame on me, your honor. ”

since that day, the tension between rafe and you has been high. you hated him but at the same time, you were so attracted to him. and the fact he was your bodyguard didn't help anything with your feelings. because he was always with you, you can't forget about him for a day which was pretty annoying.

rafe was also torn about you. because at the same time, he wanted you to die but also a part of him wanted you so badly. he was clearly ruining his life the way you made him feel.

one day, you felt sick and he didn't hear from you. and he was surprised to miss you. but what wasn't more surprising is that he took care of you during all your days in bed, letting your servants rest. “ you can do nothing without me, can’t you ? ”

and your long term relationship just started after he kissed you in your healing days. but at the same moment, your father sent him to join the new conquest.

your heart felt so heavy, beating in your ribcage like a drum. the war was over and rafe was on his way back home. he was coming back today with the whole army but you were still worried about the state in which you were going to find him. you were never sure about how he would come back to you. you were one of those desperate women who waited without messages, without letters whose hope was nourished by faith and conviction.

rafe was far from a weak man. he had all the rage and necessary strength that Rome expected from him. he was one of the best soldiers in the empire, one of the most valuable fighters and he surely had a promising future in the military career.

you were always afraid for him because the world was cruel and merciless, death spared neither gods nor mortals. at night, you couldn't close your eyes. you could never sleep properly since he left. you only had the smell of his clothes to comfort you, the memory of his voice and these words in your mind, the furtive reminder of his gestures swept away so quickly by a return to reality. you were in this unbearable and sad atmosphere which was called waiting and disarray.

your man always came home bigger to you. the war turned him into a beast. he was pretty huge and his muscles were fat, glistening from sweat and dirt. and you couldn't wait to be in his arms again.

before leaving that time, he had given you a priceless necklace. and since then, you wore it around your neck every day.

it was quite ironic. you the wife of no one, you the woman born with the title of princess, you the woman destined to rule an empire, you fell in love with a man of a rank clearly below yours. you knew that these feelings towards rafe were forbidden to you, that this love was doomed to failure, that only the suffering and the darkness of this union would remain. but you couldn't fight it every time you saw him. you were unable to resist the man who constantly haunted your thoughts.

“Princess, you are beautiful.” commented one of your many servants as she finished your tangled braid which she had punctuated with flowers and pretty jasmine scent.

you smelled good. you were coming back from a divine bath filled with body oils, and you were wearing one of your mother's wonderful dresses. you were her portrait. your father loved to tell you that. and it always made you happy because you never really knew her.

you had grown up in a man's world, ruled by men. even if there were all these gods and these offerings, it was to men that the real power here on earth belonged. but they were all corrupt, all deceptive and arrogant.

your father had burst into your room, a smile lighting up his face as he discovered you so pretty, covered in the thousand and one graces offered by royalty. you were the true treasure of Rome in his eyes.

“look at you, the most beautiful of all.” he began as he approached, a hand on your shoulder.

he coughed before clearing his throat. you quickly understood that he had something important to tell you.

"you know, I'm starting to get old. I have to think about a future governor...I can't abandon Rome without a successor. ."

“Give me the throne, Dad. I deserve it. Doesn’t it belong to me as your sole heir?”

"I know, I know. but my daughter...you know very well that women do not govern."

“but aren’t you the one who decides? you can change that.”

" Enough, I have chosen my successor and it will be the general. he more than anyone deserves this title for his loyal services to the empire and his honors. you should listen to me because I am talking about your future husband. "

your eyebrows arched furiously above your eyes. you took this decision as a betrayal, a total indifference. your father's negligence was one of your worst enemies. you hated his coldness so much.

"but father…”

you didn't like this general. your heart was sealed for another. for rafe. you had given it to him the day he had proven himself to deserve it. at first, you thought he was like the others, that he hoped to obtain royalty by dating you, but he had always been disinterested in your princess side, and the noble blood that flowed in your veins.

“speak your mind, your grace. don't let me with that look of you. you know, i can't fight those pretty eyes. "

“why me? you can choose so many women, so why am I the one you want?”

you had seen his irritable smirk at the corner of his lips. he was positioned above you, and you could feel the warmth of his breath pressing lightly on your hair.

“you want to see me with someone else? Are these your orders, princess? if it is your will..."

"It's not my will...I'm just being realistic. How do you plan to get my father to accept this relationship? You'll be killed before you can even talk to him."

"you think I can't be as dangerous as him? Who kills these men on the battlefield, who returns with his hands covered in blood, who sacrifices himself for the Glory of your father ? I made him a glorious emperor so I would have the princess, the happiest of women.”

you sighed with heavy chuckles. your eyes were locked in his. he had your hands between his fingers that were covered with bruises. his touch was so gentle for someone who kills and fights almost everyday. he couldn't hurt you, even if it was the will of gods.

“ rafe. i have a question for you. ”

“ say it. because it would be your last words before i kidnap you for the rest of the night. ”

“ promise me to always return to me. do you understand, rafe cameron ? you can't die. you can't die without my consent. you're mine, you're my soldier. ”

“ are you crying ? ”

“ answer your princess. ”

your eyes were full of tears, your voice cracking. your loyal protector stood up and placed his lips on yours.

you could feel how sincere he was with you and that was what killed you the most. your heart was in panic but you preferred to ignore the signals.

could we condemn you for wanting to be happy?

when the army returned, you were at the gates of the palace with your father surrounded by the senate and the royal guards. everyone was there, the crowd was so loud that the orchestra was lost in the cheers. you didn't want to appear too emotional but you could almost cry from the feeling that overwhelmed you when you finally saw your lover's face.

he was so radiant under the burning sun of Rome, in this armor of glory which made him much prestigious. he still had wounds from the wars but you were eager to nurse and heal them later. his face was coating with dirt and bruises, bleeding cut on his cheekbone, a bit of a crooked nose and his hands were filled with dried blood. his pecs were bulging and hard against his top. his look was wild and broken, the blue of his pupils piercing you through the crowd. you felt the heat stronger in your skin when his glare scanned you from toes to head. he spat a stream of blood out of his mouth to the ground before smiling at you with red lips hovering his bloody teeths. you didn’t take your eyes off him. It was probably the only thing you saw.

while your father praised the main hero, the general and your future predestined husband, you smiled brightly to Rafe.

“ come greet the general. ” your father said, and forcing you to face the situation.

“ princess. " the old man took your hand gently, putting a kiss on it before making a step back to respect the distance between you and him.

“ general. i'm happy to see you alive. "

" and i'm happy to see you again. you're always so beautiful. "

jealousy was a very cruel feeling which currently exploited all the members, and all the energy of rafe. he couldn't stand seeing you with someone else, he couldn't stand looking at that smile on your lips when you were talking to someone else. he loved that dress, but he hated the effect it had on this man. you were his. and if he agreed to be your secret, he nevertheless refused to share you. he was so conflicted that he tightened his grip on his sword. fortunately his sword was strongly attached in his sheath because otherwise it would slash this general's throat.

the blood pressure increased by anger had caused the veins on his hands and forehead to throb. he took two steps closer, before stepping back when he saw your warned look.

no, you didn't want him to do that. he had fallen back into his place, pressured by your anxious face. his lips were pursed, his teeth lightly biting his mouth. the blue of his eyes were scary, as his jaw muscle was tightened.

you then decided to slip away to the banquet. you didn't like these parties and big ceremonies. it was always so pathetic. you had joined rafe in your private garden out of sight.

the first thing he did when he saw you running towards him in your long dress flying in the wind was to pick you up from the ground to kiss you. “ there she is…” it was so good to see you again. rafe loved your taste, the way your lips swollen under the weight of his, the little wet moans of your mouth brushed by the slap of his tongue against yours.

if it was such a sin, why did you feel like you were in heaven?

his lips were rough and rebellious, slightly damaged but terribly addictive.

you hated that feeling of doing something wrong, when you were right by his side.

when he put you back on the ground, you were nervous. your fingers touched each other in frustration. It was hard having to tell the one you loved that there was a man who was going to marry you. it was as hard as looking into his eyes at that moment.

and then the sores on his face, he had already suffered.

“I have to tell you something…” you started.

he had only listened, with a vague response, waiting for you to speak your mind.

"I'm going to marry the general. My father decided it."

“what?” he spat. “what did you say? ”

he wasn't mad at you, but he wasn't feeling well. it was inconceivable to him. just the thought was fatal to the soldier.

"you heard...I don't like this man at all but I can't go against my father."

“but I do.”

“rafe. be serious.”

"i am. . i fucking am. so don't rafe me."

“don’t raise your voice at me. ”

“don’t ask me to stay calm!” he screamed back. “because this is not going to happen. "

“I’m your princess!”

"you're sure? because you just told me the contrary."

you tried to raise your hands to shut him off with a slap but he grabbed your palm before you could even touch him.

“where are your manners, princess?” he mocked. “ slapping your guard ? isn't it an abuse of power ? i thought i disciplined you. ”

“you know that’s not what I want!” you defended yourself by retorting violently.

he rolled his eyes, taking a step back as if you had broken something in him and he no longer had the patience to listen to you. to tell the truth, he was already tired and you came with a new problem.

“How do I know when I’m the only one fighting?”

" Excuse me ? "

"it's so easy for you. you're a spoiled little princess, you never need to do anything. you order, and you get everything on a silver platter. you never need to fight .even when you want someone.”

"you accuse me of a life that I never chose? You are unfair to me when I always choose you. I never fought, right ?what do you do with all these suitors that I pushed away for you, of these days that I spent waiting for you, of all these jewels that you gave me and that I wore, what do you do with my feelings ?what do you do with all that? All the things i've do for you? So this is what I am to you? This spoiled girl who uses you? Why would I do this? Give me one good reason to do this to you.”

he had his back turned to you, and your voice was weakened by emotions. you weren't well, your stomach was upset. and rafe spiraled. he didn't even look at you.

“How should I prove my loyalty to you?”

“ I know Rome is your home but we should run away. "

"you know I will be found. and you will be executed. you can't run away with someone like me."

"It's your choice. You can stay here and live your whole life with a man you don't love, or leave with me and be happy.”

“ You know, I can't leave ! I can't Rafe, I promise i can't. ”

“ Bullshit. ”

His words hung in the air for a long minute, before you back hugged him, your cold hands on his strong warm chest.

Your effect on him was still working because he was unable to pull you away. He was tense under your touch but not against, just frustrated.

He was always so weak with you. You were just a woman but every time you were around, it was like the best moment of his life.

“ I'm just afraid. ” you admitted. “ and you should too. because someone's gonna lose this fight. ”

“ I can't die without your consent. Do you remember ? ”

“ Will you also stop going to war for me ? I'm begging you. ”

“ So you know how to beg princess ? Interesting. ”

“ Surprised ? I've just learned from the man who always begged me. ” you teased in a playful tone.

“ The General was right. You're very pretty in that dress…”

“ I was wondering when you're gonna tell me. It was very long without you. I've had hard times in your absence because i was just thinking of you all day. ”

“ And now i'm back. You're really thinking of me all day ? ” He asked, pulling you closer to him, before sliding a hand down your tummy, making her way between your thighs. “ even there ? Yea, i can feel it, princess. You really missed me don't you ?”

“ We're in public. ”

“ Yea ? Should put them a show then. ”

Last night, you slept well. Maybe because you felt less alone now that Rafe was home. Everything seemed more comfortable, your blankets warmer, your pillows softer.

While you expected to see one of your servants when the door to your room opened, you were surprised to find that it was several guards.

“The emperor asks for you, your grace. " the commander had declared. "You'd better get dressed. "

“Give me a few minutes.”

Naive and carefree that you were, you didn't see the harm in this request even if it seemed strange to you. You just hoped it wasn't just about your future union with the general.

Quickly, you put on a decent outfit and followed the guards to the throne room.

Your world had collapsed when you discovered Rafe chained at the wrists and feet surrounded by guards like a prisoner.

“rafe!” your voice cracked both in your throat and the large room. you ran towards him but were held back by two soldiers.

what had to happen happened. no one escaped their fate. everyone was forced to endure it. your cheeks were covered in tears as you fell to your knees.

you only had to look at your lover for a few seconds to hear each fragment of your heart crystallize before exploding into pieces in your chest. the pain was heavy, a sharp and stabbing torture like a dagger plunged into the vital organ. you could barely breathe. the vision of his bruised face stuck in your mind. but above all this distressed look.

you were guilty. you had been unable to protect him, unable to save him. you had been helpless. and you felt selfish.

" enough ! " your father had proclaimed.

“leave him, dad. I beg you...take my life, not his. " you replied.

“it is not me who will decide his fate, nor you, my dear child. but Rome. "

" No ! No ! not the arena. everything but not that. "

your father’s smile was sadistic, so imperial in the face of your tears.

you had never felt so much hatred towards him as in that very moment.

“ You disrespected me by playing around with one of my soldat, you humiliated me ! But maybe it's my fault. I let you have too much freedom. But now, it's over. I'm gonna punish you and you will perhaps learn. You're gonna marry the general right after the death of your boyfriend. and remember, you can hate me with all your guts, don't forget that you're the one who chose his faith by sneaking around with him. ”

“ I love him, dad ! He's the only Man i want. ”

“ Instead of making your apologies, you're still defending him. Don't forget who you are. You're maybe my daughter but I will not hesitate to kill you. But if i do this, you're gonna be happy to join your lover and happiness…is something i can't no longer give you. ”

Rafe's jaw was tight. he had already struggled so much since his arrest. his muscles were tired. and anyway, he was now a captive. the chains were too heavy.

he was also suffering from his new injuries. his rage was gradual and intensive, his breathing was ragged, completely in rhythm with the movement of his arched mouth. blood was streaming down part of his lip down to his chin. there was so much anger in his system that the fat of his muscles were vibrating.

his eyes were distorted with hatred and pain. his blood vessels were dilated and red. With the chaos in his head, all his inner voices arguing within them, he was about to explode.

he knew the arena. everyone knew this place. it was the favorite spectacle of emperors, where gladiators faced each other to the death. life was rarely granted. it was a massacre consented to by the people, governed by freaks.

Most of the time, gladiators were war slaves, criminals, traitors. they were rarely people of high rank.

At nightfall, you waited until it was dark and there was no one left in the palace to leave your room discreetly and reach the cellar of the arena where the future gladiators were. you were trembling, scared and out of breath. you almost fell down the spiral stairs due to the narrowness of the place. you had negotiated with the night guard for a moment with rafe. he had given you a few minutes.

“rafe” you whispered as he stood up at the sound of the door.

“I’m terribly sorry.” you said. “It’s all my fault.”

you got closer. his face was damaged. he shook his head.

“I'm going to kill them all tomorrow,” he declared. “absolutely all.”

“you can’t kill them all.”

“I can.”

"I don't want you to die. I can't watch this.”

you had retrieved a tissue from under your cloak, and applied it to the glooming bruises. he grimaced slightly and you smiled. “does it hurt? ”

“i can handle this. ”

“ i'm so afraid. my father wants you dead. ”

“ he forgets who I am. i'm one of his best soldiers, none of his gladiators can't beat me. so look at me, i'm not gonna die. better than that, i'm not gonna leave you alone.”

“ i really don't want to marry this guy. ”

“ baby, you're not gonna marry anyone but me. ” ignoring the pain that came from his injuries, he pulled you on his lap, before kissing you so desperately that his mouth was literally devouring you, his tongue tearing your lips apart.

when the time presented itself, you were forced to follow your father to the royal balcony located in the arena, the one which gave a view of the entire expanse of the place. all of Rome was there. you would have hoped for pity, compassion, mercy but there was none of those. all the cries roared in the crowd, from the stands to the streets.

you were handcuffed to your chair, treated like a prisoner. your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest like a malfunctioning machine. you hated the position you were in. you weren't one of those people who loved to fight to the death. it was brutal, gory and pathetic. no one deserved this.

“ everything's okay ? ” the general asked.

“ i don't want to watch it. i just don't want this. ”

“ you should think of this before putting yourself in this situation. ” cutted your father, before addressing himself to his people.

he was so high, so glorified in society. but this man was evil and sick, a cruel emperor who loved to see people suffer.

in the shadows of the wings, where the warriors waited behind a great iron wall, rafe was prepared. he wasn't going to lose. Above all, he saw himself incapable of losing you. he had to fight for his honor but yours too. he was angry with your father as he never was so angry with his own.

the soldier had never had a break in his life. always pushed to his limits, always pushing to surpass himself. he was the eldest of his family, the one who had no right to make mistakes, the one who had to guard his weaknesses, the one who had to grow up more alone than the others. his father had always been hard on him, in his upbringing and with his feelings. sometimes, rafe agreed to talk to you about his mother and it was in these moments that you most often saw him smile. there were few women who had mattered to him. but now you were the only one.

the orchestra had resounded throughout the assembly, dominating all external noises. the games were about to begin for the pleasure of the spectators. your mouth was pursed, your heart was on the edge of your lips and the feeling of being on the door of the abyss. you would have rather been killed than witness the death of your lover.

when you saw him enter the arena, you tried to appear neutral because he seemed calm.

he always looked so magnificent in his armor. his hair was swept by the wind, a few strands flying over his forehead while dust covered his sun-kissed face, hands turned into fists.. because of the heat, he was already sweating. your hands trembled under the handcuffs as you watched him walk over the sand that must surely burn his feets.

you prayed. you prayed for him. you asked the gods for forgiveness and clemency. you prayed like you had never done before. “ save him. ” you whispered to yourself, collecting your tears in your prayers.

your eyes were opened against your will. it was extremely violent from the start. It had only been a few minutes since corpses were already on the ground, blood was spurting from falling bodies. you would like to care about everyone's fate but you only thought about rafe. you had your gaze glued to him, following every of his movements. you were unlike him, defeated and desperate.

however, he was well ahead of this battle. there was a sick rage within him, and an intense desire to win. a lot of throats have been slashed merciless under his sword. his head was empty, and every of his blasted punches was literally dead strokes. if people from the tribunes wanted a show, he was willing to give them. his charming face was hidden by some dripping blood that was running down from his mouth full of it.

he was no longer human for the moment, just a war dog who beat every one of his adversaries. all of his muscles were pushed hard to fight. his shield was pressed against his chest, and his movements focused on the action. he had been beaten many times but not defeated. he received several punches to the face and sword blows to the body but that did not stop him from continuing. as he fought, strong and fearsome, you began to be cooler. the crowd standed quickly by him.

there were around fifteen people left in the area. the best fighters. you seemed relaxed but you were still stressed because fate rarely announced a good fate to heroes. you were afraid of losing the only person you loved, you didn't want to and you weren't prepared for it. you were already suffering at the idea of seeing rafe's corpse plunge heavily into the dusty sand of the Colosseum. your body was under the influence of your bad thoughts. your tears were bitter and salty.

you watched your lover fight through the gladiators under the clanging of swords, the clash of blades. he had a good attack and a powerful shot. it was supposed to survive. he could do it. he had to do it.

he had no right to abandon you. no right to die without your consent.

the hardest part was not being able to move, being condemned to witness his fall.

you knew your father was a cruel man. he was not the emperor of Rome for nothing. He had killed innocent people, reduced people to slavery, and torn families apart. But you didn't think that one day you would be one of his victims, that you would be the target of one of his sadistic games.

sometimes he would turn his head to look at you and revel in your decaying face. to the point you believe that he wanted your death more than Rafe's.

when only him and one other remained in the arena. the finale was announced by the violent sound of trumpets. now the entire population was hanging in this fight. men were leaning over the boxes to better observe the battle.

the assault had been rapid and violent but above all gory. there was blood and sparkles dripping under a clash of sword attack. rafe had managed to gain the advantage, pushing his opponent to the ground. the victim had succeeded to dodge his blade several times before it was furiously stabbed into his leg.

you closed one eye, making a grimace. the man ended up getting up, retrieving his sword to resume the duel. he had taken his revenge. he now had the upper hand over rafe, and the massacre continued.

except this time it was even more painful because rafe was staggering and unsteady, his face was badly beaten, and the blood was rushing from his opened fleshwounds.

you wanted to scream but it was impossible. nothing came. nor your voice. nor your words. you were stuck in an uncomfortable silence.

you thought about how you could have hated him so much in the past and now he was all that mattered to you. you wanted to go back in time, find this machine that granted wishes, ask the god for forgiveness for not having been faithful enough to them. you wanted to go back to when you and Rafe were still innocent of the fate that awaited you.

you wanted to return to the comfort of the past. the present was unbearable.

the man's body fell to the ground with a big bounce. his corpse had caused the crowd to vibrate with a festive howl. cries were heard from all sides but the time had come to give a fate to the winner. they could save his life or kill him.

your father stood up, silencing the crowd with a wave of his hand. his look was sick. he had placed his thumb vertically, up and down. but before he could even finish, the body of Rafe fell to the ground. you heard his voice raising in a painful growl, as he closed his eyes just under your gaze.

you screamed, the most longest and hurtful rome has ever heard in her life. strangely, the emperor let the guards break your chains and you ran away to the arena. you didn't Care about how much people watched you, you just wanted to check your lover’s health.

“ don't leave me. don't you dare leave me. you have no right leaving me. Do you hear me ? you can't leave me. it's a promise, don't you remember ? ” you shouted, shaking his body against your hands. your voice was broken and your tears were bleeding in your face. “ i'm gonna hate you forever if you leave me. forever…i'm sorry, really, i'm sorry…”

no one lifted a single finger, not even a single move. they were just watching you falling into madness from the loss of your boyfriend. he was still breathing but his eyes were closed.

“ it's an order from your princess. stay alive… where did you go, my bodyguard ? where did you go ? tell me and i will make you come back. i can't lose you. i-i love you, okay ? isn't you supposed to be waking up now ? ”

“ you didn't change at all, a bit of a crybaby when i'm not around. ” he joked slightly through the pain of his wounds.

“ are you dead ? i mean, are you okay ? ”

“ i can't promise you anything. ”

“ does he will kill you if i'm kissing you right now ? ”

“ still planning to kill me even after all those years ? ”

“ rafe. i'm very worried…I want to go back to the beginning. take me back to the start. it's an order. ”

his hand weakened in yours, falling from your grip.

but it can't be over. not like that.

“ rafe…rafe….rafe. answer me. rafe ? answ… me…could you fight for me...just one last time...”

[fadedmunson]

like him | l. verus

pairings ; lucius verus x fem!reader

summary ; you find once he's captured. you attempt to strip away the gladiator mystique and find out who he really is.

genre ; kinda angsty-ish buuuut cayoot ending

notes; shocker! i watched gladiator II and it was complete eye candy soooo i finally got the paul mescal hype ><

wc ; .7k words! sorry so short :,(

"aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you purred at the unknown man

he blankly looked at you, feigning a look exhaustion you mistake for annoyance

you pout at his expression, slumping on the stone next to his sweaty and bruised body

it had to be around 35° celsius in rome; the hot sweltering sun beating down on the dehydrated gladiators that had them dropping like flies left and right

many of the roman "call girls" would linger around these parts, you being one of them

"tell me gladiator," you began

"what did they take from you?" you gently asked, while poking at his chestplate

he didn't reply, just stared blankly at your figure, before adverting his gloomy gaze

he thought you seemed gentle and sweet, nothing like someone would call a common "whore"

obviously the life you're living was chosen for you, he wondered who made that decision

you laughed at his lack of response

"ah, so you're the stoic type? we've had many of those," you reminisce

"they come and go so quickly," you breathe out, "a real shame."

"i've become well versed in losing the things i love. i'm sure someone like you has as well." he surmised quietly

you whipped your head to look at him clearly

he face was completely wiped of emotion, oh he's serious

you dawn a wry smile, "i have."

he leans in further into the conversation, almost like his desire is to actively listening to you

you notice this and pull back a little

"you're a busy man," you nervously noted, "shouldn't you be training?"

he looks around for a minute, seeing everyone else occupied on some other mundane exercise

"i think i can push my training by a couple minutes," he suggested, wearing a cheeky grin before giggling with you

oh gods above please never let this moment end

you talk for what felt like forever, come to find out it had only been mere minutes

"there's someone about him," you tell one of the girls in the brothel

"yeah, like what? his phallus?" she jeers playfully

you stay silent and just shake your head gently while helping her

there was a part of you that had yearned for a connection,but instead you're here, helping naive girl fix their makeup for men who do not deserve them

you stand up suddenly, confusion written on all their faces

"i'll be out until dawn," you say sharply

they all look at you with an unspoken agreement lingering in the air

you take a hooded cape and be on your way, you have to see your gladiator

in the dead of the night, you had arrived to the prison chambers that held the fighters

it was dirty and filled with little creatures, rusted blood on the metal, only illuminated by some rickety lanterns, you could hear the almost silent cry of some of the men, wishing they could return to their homes,

you were hastily let in, a loud BANG! heard before the gates shut completely

his stature completely melts when he sees your eyes, he knows it's you underneath the covering

you take a seat right next to him on his uncomfortable mattress, and you look at him deeply while he takes off your cloth hood

"i want to know you.."

"lucius," he whispers, his eyes moving all over your face to analyze every littlest feature

you hold his face in your hands and swipe your thumb over his cheeks "i desire to know you lucius."

"it feels like we've known each other a lifetime," he completely melts into you hands, placing his over yours

gently kissing your knuckles, he looks to you for comfort in an empire that wants to see you both dead

your eyes well with tears at the love you feel, its gentle and sweet, no malice or underlying lust

it's overwhelming and all you can do is stare at his while he admires you, treating you with such kindness that you think it's turning you nauseous

he confided in you, about his father, his life in numidia, and his desires in life

his eyes lit up thinking about what his future life could've been if it weren't for the literal chains that restricted him

your silence spoke volumes as you ran your hands through his rugged hair, nodding your head at every little thing he had to say

for the first time since being in rome, he's felt solace. only with you

[uncleclaudius]

The Lyon Tablet, a transcript of the speech Emperor Claudius had given in the Senate in 48 AD, arguing for the admission of senators from Gaul.

1. I should say at the outset that I reject the first thought that will, I am sure, be the very first thing to stand in my way: namely that you will recoil from my suggestion as though I were introducing some revolutionary innovation.  Think, instead, of how many changes have taken place over the years in this state and how many forms and constitutions our state has had, from the time of its very foundation.

2. At one time this city was held by kings, though they did not pass it along to successors from their own families. People from other families came to the throne and even some foreigners.  Numa, for example, succeded Romulus, and was a Sabine; that made him a neighbor, certainly, but at the time he was also a foreigner. Another example is Tarquinius Priscus, who succeded Ancus Marcius: because of his impure blood--his father was the Corinthian Demaratus and his mother was from Tarquinii, to Tarquinius Priscus supposedly had a Greek father and an Etruscan mother. And though well-born she was very poor, which is why she was forced to marry such a husband.--Tarquinius was kept from positions of honor in his own land and thus emigrated to Rome, where he became king.  Between Tarquinius and either his son or his grandson (for our authorities disagree on this point) there came Servius Tullius.  And according to the Roman sources Servius Tullius had as a mother a prisoner of war, Ocresia; according to the Etruscans he had been the faithful companion of Caelius Vivenna and took part in his adventures, and later, when he was driven out by a change of fortune, he left Etruria with all the suriving troops of Caelius and seized the Caeliian hill, which thus takes its name from his leader Caelius, and after changing his name (for his Etruscan name was Mastarna) he was given the name I have already mentioned, and became king, to the very great advantage of the state. Then, after the behavior of Tarquinius Superbus came to be hated by our city--and not only his behavior but that of his sons--the people obviously became tired of monarchy, and the administration of state was transferred to the consuls, who were annual magistates.

3. Why need I mention the dictatorship--more powerful even than the consulship--which was what our ancestors came up with when wars were particularly hard or there was serious civil disturbance?  Or why need I mention the the creation of tribunes of the plebs, to provide assistance for the plebs?  Why mention transfer of imperium from consuls to the decemviri, and at the end of the reign of the decemviri the return of imperium back to the consuls?  Why mention the distribution of the consular power to multiple recipients, called tribunes of the soldiers with consular power, who were first six and then eight in number?  Why should I mention the fact that offices that were once patrician ones were shared eventually with the plebeians, religious ones as well as military?

4. If I were to tell of the wars, which our ancestors started with and which have continued down to the present day, I fear that I would appear too boastful, and look as though I wanted to boast about my glory in extending the empire beyond the Ocean.  But let me instead return to my original point.  Citizenship can ... [some text is lost here]

[column II]

5. Certainly it was a new thing when my great-uncle Augustus and my uncle Tiberius decided to admit into this Senate house the flower of the coloniae and the cities from all over the empire--all of them good and wealthy men of course.  But, you may say, is not an Italian senator more useful than a provincial one?  When I start explaining this aspect of my censorship I will reveal what I think about that.   But certainly I  think that provincials should not be rejected, as long as they will be a credit to the Senate.

6. Behold that most glorious and flourishing colony of Vienne: how long has it provided senators for this chamber?  From Vienne comes an ornament of the equestrian order with few equals, Lucius Vestinus, whom I esteem greatly and retain even now in my service.   May his children, I beseech you, enjoy priesthoods of the first rank, and after that, in the years to come, may they proceed to further honors.  (I will not utter the dire name of that brigand—I detest him, that monster of the wrestling-ring—or the fact that he acquired the consulship for his family before his colony had ever obtained the solid benefit of the Roman citizenship.  And I could say the same thing about his brother, who suffered a pathetic and fate, and was thus no use to you as a senator.)

7. It is time now, Tiberius Caesar Germanicus, to reveal to the senators where your speech is headed; for you have already come to the extreme limits of Gallia Narbonensis.

8. Consider all the distinguished young men I see before me: the fact that they are senators should cause no more regret than that felt by Persicus--a most distinguished man and a friend of mine--when he reads the name Allobrogicus among the images of his ancestors.  And if you agree that this is true, what should I not also point out to you that the land beyond Gallia Narbonensis already sends you senators?  We do not, after all, regret that we have men in the senate from Lugdunum.

9. I was somewhat hesitant, senators, about leaving the boundaries of provinces that were well known to you, but now I must make the case for Gallia Comata with some seriousness.  If anyone concentrates on the fact that the Gauls resisted the divine Julius in war for ten years, he should consider that they have also been loyal and trustworthy for a hundred years, and had this loyalty tried to the utmost when we were in danger.  They it was who provided my father Drusus with secure internal peace when he was conquering Germany, even though he was summoned to the war while in the middle of a census, which was then a new and strange business for the Gauls.  And we know from our own experience how difficult the census can be, even though for us it involves nothing more than the public recording of our resources. (tr. E. M. Smallwood)

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

[foone]

I think in the alternate reality where I never transitioned and stayed in the south, I would have gotten a CINAEDUS tattoo. Spelled CINAEDVS, obviously, using that Ancient Rome font.

This would be funny because I was a big hairy guy with a southern accent*. People just assumed I was a conservative, when in fact I only ever pretended to be one for about 2 months in 2002 for Blockbuster Video reasons**.

Anyway the point is that I'd be a right-wing-assumed guy with some Latin phrase that probably means I want to conquer the holy land or destroy the degenerates bringing down our empire just like happens to Rome... But actually the word just means "bottom", as in the sexual role. It was used basically the same as "faggot". It'd go well with my uke shirt.

* as opposed to now, where I'm a big slightly less hairy girlthing with a southern accent.

** I will not explain this.

[worfsbarmitzvah]

a weird kind of dissonance i’ve been feeling is like. it feels like most of the west sees ancient rome as this totally bygone, foreign, almost fantastical place. like obviously people have an idea of how much the roman empire set the stage for western culture in general, but the actual reality of the roman empire seems to be totally alien to most modern westerners. whereas from a jewish perspective the roman empire feels very immediate and very relevant. it isn’t just a far-off memory that we only think about when we study linguistics or look at a map of the solar system or watch russell crowe movies and shakespeare plays.

to quote abraham joshua heschel:

We are a people in whom the past endures,

in whom the present is inconceivable without moments gone by.

The Exodus lasted a moment, a moment enduring forever.

What happened once upon a time happens all the time.

which is to say, the roman empire is not a distant memory for us. every every 17th of tammuz, the roman empire is there. every tisha b’av, the roman empire is there. when i walk into a store in december and a song by mariah carey is playing, the roman empire is there. every time i drive past a church and see a cross, the roman empire is there.

of course, this goes just as well for every historical oppressor of the jewish people, but i think the legacy that ancient rome has in modern western society gives it a specific feeling from a jewish point of view. it’s like the sounds of a fluorescent light: to the goyim around me it’s just background noise, easily tuned out, but to me it’s always there and it always stings at least a little

[qqueenofhades]

fwiw: a lot of people follow @roach-works who just reblogged yo ur comments on history, books, and authoritarian regimes' inability to indoctrinate entire populations.

I'm an ex classics major with a lot of history under my belt, who knows Rome sutmr under a corrupt oligarchy even when it coughed up a hairball like Nero or Commodus. (Of course, it helped that Rome worked on the pragmatic principle, "How can we keep society and infrastructure functioning, given that positions of power tend to be occupied by the rich & corrupt?" I like to joke that Western Rome never fell; it just became the mafia.)

At any rate, my tendency to see the US through the lens of Rome makes me a pessimist: I assume we'll manage even in a dystopia.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of world history to counteract that, but it's great to check in with a sane historian who will help me resist crowdsourced panicmongering.

Look, as I have said, I 0% blame anyone for being scared. I'm scared. With no exaggeration or hyperbole, Shit Real Bad, and it's undoubtedly going to get worse, at least in some ways, before we have a chance to make it better. It was completely avoidable, but half of America decided they didn't want to avoid it, so here we are.

Nonetheless, as my last reblog also pointed out, there are still basic historical and critical-thinking skills that we can use here, and to acknowledge that even if it is obviously unprecedented to us, it is not unprecedented to others, and we can study those lessons and think about how to apply them to our own situation. Rome is the obvious model for a world empire brought down by corruption, oligarchy, imperialism, endless foreign wars, income inequality, economic upheaval, excessive militarism, etc etc, but it's not the only one, and the "fall of Rome and start of the Dark Ages" is one of those narratives that gets my premodern-historian rant especially exercised. By the time Rome "fell" in 476, the city of Rome wasn't even the capital of the Empire; the western capital was in Ravenna, northern Italy, and the eastern capital was in Constantinople, where it endured for another thousand years. Roman successor kingdoms were founded in Visigothic Spain, Merovingian Francia, etc., and often imported Roman law, religion, bureaucracy/administration, and nobility relatively unchanged, which is why Latin was the legal, ecclesiastical, and educational language of western Europe until as late as 1962 and Vatican II. The "Dark Ages" are likewise at best an extreme simplification and at worst exceedingly misleading imperial-nostalgia propaganda. Etc etc. I will restrain myself.

Rome dominated the (European/Near Eastern/north African) world in the way that the 19th-century British Empire dominated the actual world and American empire dominates now, at least for the moment, and thus we have to recognize that similar dynamics are at play here in a late-stage imperial decline. However, Rome did not just up and vanish in a puff of smoke one day and never appear again, and we also have to recognize that the end of empires is generally a good thing, historically speaking. Yes, absolutely a turbulent, dangerous, and traumatizing time, especially for those living within the imperial core, but still. There's also the blunt fact that America itself has been responsible for a lot (a LOT) of violent regime change, coups, overthrows, bombings, and other disastrous foreign policy interventions for almost the entirety of its existence, and we can't pretend that we are just the shining beacon of unproblematic truth, freedom, and faith that most conservatives, and a lot of saccharine American-exceptionalism liberals, tend to think. If that comes back to bite us and we have to experience the kind of political and social upheaval that we have arrantly and unrepentantly inflicted on other places in the name of our Superior Right... well.

As for the post about history books (here), that was another attempt to push back against the kind of broad-strokes fearmongering that is often prevalent right now. Again: for completely understandable reasons, but still. There is literally no way on earth that the practice of academic history, or the procession of human events, is going to be destroyed because an orange dumbass and his idiot followers took power in America for eight nonconsecutive years. Even if by some miracle he managed to do it in America and the only thing ever officially published was Heritage Foundation balderdash, a) historians in countries other than America would still be writing books about it, and b) again, literally impossible. To return to the history of Soviet totalitarianism that I was addressing in that post, I suggest that people look into the samizdat, the contraband news and literature widely shared in the USSR. They faced far more stringent conditions than we ever will: the KGB controlled access to all word processors and copiers, precisely because they could be used to spread non-regime-approved information, and dissidents had to write and circulate it by hand. If they were caught, they could be disappeared, sent to the gulag, confined in a psychiatric hospital, subject to intensive "state education," etc. But they still managed to pass it around and read it, and it would be literally impossible for this collection of Trumpster chucklefucks to exert even a fraction of this logistical and physical control, when every citizen already owns a laptop and a smartphone. The history books aren't going anywhere.

That all said, of course we are all hyper-alert and anxious and afraid, and we don't want to miss anything that might be important or dangerous or anything else. I get that, I completely do. But we still have to pace ourselves, we still have to apply critical thought and learn how to educate ourselves when something seems huge and scary and unstoppable, and I am attempting to do a small part of that on a niche blue hellsite that won the social media competition by literally doing nothing while its peers all fell face first into being corporate Nazis. The bar is low. But hey, I'm here, and you're here and you're reading it, and we will get through it. I promise.

Courage, etc.

[loveybirdlt]

Just watched Gladiator 2 and haven’t stopped thinking about it so obviously my mind turned to the cod men and the obsession is now worse, enjoy!

(I may end up building on these for oneshots or mini series for each of them)

Gladiator!Simon x Prize!reader

Silent, intimidating gladiator champion Simon who has done so well in the arena that his keepers think he deserves a prize to keep moral up. The scared thing that turns up in his cell, wrapped in a clean stolla with perfumed skin might be more than the gladiator was expecting.

General!Price x Princess!reader

General Price who has conquered many nations for the Empire of Rome and finds himself having treasonous feelings for the Emperor’s daughter. Her tender gaze turning on him whenever he’s summoned to the palace making the General feel things he thought were out of his reach.

Senator!Gaz x Servant!reader

Newly appointed Senator Gaz adjusting to his estate in the city of Rome and catching sight of a timid yet beautiful servant now under his command. She’s evasive, never seeing her more than once every few days but Gaz is determined to learn more about her.

Gladiator!Johnny x Healer!reader

The woman with the softest touch and brightest eyes has caught newly captured slave turned gladiator Johnny’s attention. Something that motivates him to make it back to the barracks of the colosseum everyday, if only to hear her voice one more time.

[stellabk]

FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part I

Summary - Two young daughters and their Patrician father live just outside of Rome in a small village. For the sake of their father’s revolution against the twin tyrant emperors, she and her sister must play the part of lovestruck concubines, even if one of them has too much of a fiery temper to pretend to like the arrogant Emperor Geta.

Warning(s) - binding with rope, abusive behavior (not from Geta), graphic violence, attempted SA, blood, broken bones, not historically accurate. I’m not sure what else, but if you see something else including any edits needed, let me know!

Deianira stirred in her bed from the smell of smoke and the sound of shrieks. Her eyes shot open and she leapt from her bed, brushing the red hair away from her face with her hands as she rushed toward her window. Her brown eyes grew wide as the temple across from her home began disintegrating as it grew more and more ablaze. Soldiers lined the outside, one atop a black horse, as a bulky soldier gripped at a woman’s hair as she knelt on the ground screaming pleas to let her children live. Deianira threw on her clothes in a rush and came rushing down the stairs. Her father stood at the door watching in agonizing silence.

“Father, do something! They’ll kill her and her children!”

Her father only stood frozen, unable to respond. She huffed out a breath of frustration as she pushed past her father, rushing toward the woman.

“We will only ask this once more: where is the man who rules over this village?” the soldier, who you could now see the glinting gold of the Roman insignia on his breastplate, shouted in the woman’s face as he pulled her long hair even further toward the sky. She yelped at the sensation while her two young sons shouted and sobbed for the army to leave their mother alone.

“Let that woman be! What crime has she committed to deserve such callous ruthlessness?”

The soldier’s head shot in her direction, the woman and children now quiet as they stared at their neighbor in fear. The man dropped the woman’s head as she fell to the ground on her face. He began to approach her, tall and burly frame stalking closer and closer like a leopard on the prowl. He stood directly in front of her face, towering over her and spitting on the ground just next to her unclothed feet.

“What right does a bitch have to feel the need to incessantly bark?!” He brought the back of his hand to her face making her stumble to the side. She stayed looking down, her hand slowly moving for the dagger at her side under her dress. He stepped closer to her, yelling blashphemous words at her as he knelt to her ear level just to insult her. He couldn’t get all of his verbal abuse past his lips as her knee came up to meet his croin then her dagger plunged into his throat. He stumbled back several steps with her following, the knife still lodged into his larynx, only pushing harder as he tried to move away. He looked at her with the last light in his eyes as his knees sank to the dirt right beside the woman he had just been tormenting. Deianira spit by his knees before pulling the crimson covered weapon away from his jugular as he fell face first into the red mud.

The general stared at her, unyielding of any emotion but his eyes possessed the faintest hint that he was impressed.

“Forgive my soldier,” the general hopped from the left side of his horse, petting its neck then stepping closer to the petite but obviously dangerous woman in front of him, who still held the dagger chest level and ready to attack once more. “He never has been very tactful. Though I will say, it is a shame you had to kill the fellow.”

“What is it that you Empire scum want with my village?” she hardened her exterior to not let her guard down; he could have only been acting cordially in order to strike her down, after all.

“We have our orders to find Publius, the man who this city follows.”

“What has my father done to incur the wrath of the imperators?”

“Unfortunately your father has refused to send the taxes of the townsfolk to their highnesses, and they took it as a sign he may begin an upheaval.”

“That is nonsense!” your father hobbled to your side. “I would never do a thing to seem like a transgression against my emperors. I beg of you, let me recompense my unintentional transgressions. I shall repay tenfold.”

“Father, you cannot be serious,” Deianira looked at her father. He quickly shot her a look signalling her that she had ashamed him enough. She sealed her lips to prevent any further disgrace to befall him.

“If you and your men wish to wait here for a moment, I shall go inside and wake the servants so they may prepare what you are owed.”

“Very kind, sir. The imperators thank you for your continuous support.”

Deianira’s father nodded to the general before beckoning her back into the house with his hand on her back. Once they were inside, her father closed the door and her sister, Publia, waited with her arms crossed over her chest and yet her wavy blonde hair looked as if it had just been brushed, perfect as ever.

“By the gods, what has happened to you, Deianira?” She brushed her soft cream colored hands across the cheek the soldier had struck, feeling the sting of her touch through the skin.

“Now is not the time. Father, why cower to those soldiers? We have wanted this rebellion to commence for a decade now. Why not stand against the tyrants that sit on the throne?”

“I have my reasons, girl. If you truly want to help our cause–the both of you–I suggest you come near and listen to me carefully. I shall not force on you anything you do not wish to do… We have all discussed the dangers of this revolt, and you both know what is at risk… what you may have to lay down for the sake of the people around us.”

“Father, please. Tell us what you are thinking,” Publia stepped closer to him.

Publius sighed, shaking his head, “I will send the gold and treasures to the emperors, along with my two daughters for an apology.”

“No,” Deianira scrunched her brows, hurt by the notion that their father would pass them along as if they were treasures to be claimed.

“Hear me first, daughter. Your sister is of the meek persuasion. She will make a good fit to tempt Emperor Geta. You, on the other hand, are fiery and hot tempered. Emperor Caracalla will love the challenge of trying to tame the wild beast. If you were to go, you could be a potential consort of the two rulers and bring them to their knees, also giving me the time to build up our recruits and prepare them for the slaughter.”

“But father, if we become nothing more than a consort, we may lose the chance to marry,” Deianira furrowed her brows, holding back her pending explosion of fury from her family.

“She does have a point, father. Not to mention if we are consorts, what shall become of us if we become with child? Should we be exiled, never to see you or any of our loved ones ever again?”

“I understand, and as I stated, I shall not force you both to do this if you do not wish it, but if you do this, we may yet save our people. But you both knew that this revolution could come with great risks.”

SIlence loomed overhead like a broadsword on a small string. Publia was the first to break it.

“I must live up to the name that is yours as well as mine. We are for the people, and I shall be anywhere the rebellion has use for me.”

Deianira hesitated, fighting her head which said to stay under the small blanket of safety in the village, and her heart which cried for the revolution.

“I shall also go. My name my mother gave me might not be of Roman descent, but she gave it to me with purpose.”

Father had the servants carry out gold and treasures in carts, one right after the other. The handmaiden dressed the two doomed sisters in beautiful, luxurious dress for their journey before sending them off with only a few of their close items. The eldest sister walked out the door first as Deia’s father stopped her.

“I want you to heed my words. I do not want you to relent your animosity. Act as if you are being forced to go. Fight them as much as you possibly can until you feel as if Caracalla has “tamed” you. Go forth with the fire of your hair.”

She nodded one last time to her father before he walked her out toward the general.

The general stood beside his horse, waiting for the two women. “Thank you once more, Publius. Your daughters will be well taken care of.”

“Thank you, General Acacius. I am sure they will be taken care of with the utmost diligence.” Your father lowered his head to Acacius in respect.

“However, my men do insist we tie this one to ensure the safety of the rest of the men.”

Deianira smiled with a scoff. “You believe rope will be enough to stop my wrath? If I wish it, I shall bear my teeth to your mens’ throats.”

The rope was tight against her arms as two soldiers wrapped it around her, pinning them to the sides of her torso. A man helped her sister into a carriage, then her, making sure to give her the ample support without the use of her arms.

Before they knew it, the carriage and militia surrounding them made their leave, all of them but two looking back at the smoke from the attack.

The sisters jostled down paths in the carriage that held them, Publia sleeping soundly as Deianira squirmed against the ropes that burned her skin, trying to release some of the pressure. The carriage slowed to a stop, and more bustling noise could be heard from outside it. Publia peeked over the edge where she sat on the floor of the cart, watching as men carried their food cargo in crates and satchels to start camp. She squatted back to her sister’s level ,letting her know what was happening. The women sat as they watched men building tents and a few fires around them as the sun sank further and further down.

General Acacius approached the two of them, “We have a tent for the two of you to share ready if you would like to relax for the night. Dinner will be ready momentarily.”

Deia’s sister pulled her to her feet and led her to the tent. As time passed, she still remained bound, her sister forced to feed her since she lacked the ability to do it herself, and also made up her bedroll. The sun had completely set on the camp, and it grew quieter. The two women slept soundly, though Deianira began to shift in her bedroll at the increase of close sounds. She groggily opened her eyes and looked toward her sister, and was immediately fully awake. A soldier held a knife to her throat and another hand against her mouth, Publia’s skirt showing her loincloth undergarments as she cried quietly and shook. the man had not yet noticed that she was awake, so she knew she had to act fast, but how would she fend him off still bound? In a matter of instinct, she charged for him and threw her full body weight at him like a spear, feet first into his side. The man grunted as he rolled onto the floor, Deia taking it as a sign to head but him with all of her strength. His head fell to the tent floor, rolling over onto hi back as he groggily put his hands against his forehead in anguish. Deianira straddled him, pushing her bare foot against his neck, then snaking the other around to hold his head firm and watch his face turn blue. He grappled for the lost weapon, pawing at her with the other in an attempt to get her off, before he slowly stopped, all light leaving his eyes and head falling to the side still discolored.

Two more guards rushed in from the commotion, seeing the display and their deceased brother. One charged toward Deia, knocking her on her back and off of the dead soldier. He ran toward her with the knife that had been discarded on the floor, but she kicked with both legs into his rib cage, knocking the breath from his lungs. The other grabbed her off the floor by her torso and held her back against him, giving the other soldier an opportunity to attack. He came closer with the knife twirling in his fist and fury in his eyes, panting to try and recover his lost breath. Deianira kicked behind her into the mans knee cap, pushing it into a wrong angle as he screamed before lifting her other leg to kick the man in the same place as the one that was behind her and now on the floor. He cut at her leg, earning a hiss of pain, charging another attack with the blade at her. As if a wild tiger, she ran forward and bit into his neck hard. He screamed at first, then began to gargle. She tasted the metallic taste of his blood, smelled it as it burned at her eyes, but she didn’t relent. If he moved , she bit in harder. He fell to the ground in a heap, still struggling for death, and she still held tightly with her teeth as she collapsed with him. General Acacius stormed in, tens of soldiers behind him now and staring on in horror. Deia finally felt the breathing stop under her lips and let go. Her mouth, legs and arms were covered in a mix of her and the soldiers’ blood sitting criss cross on the tent floor while her sister cowered in the corner. She panted, spitting as much blood from her mouth as possible, tears burning her eyes from the blood exposure.

”Do forgive me, general… they attacked my sister.”

He only nodded, looking at the floor and two bedrolls that had blood splotches scattered on them, then to the girl sitting on the ground covered in blood like a carnivore after devouring a good hunt, and finally to the sister who still remained in her bedroll hat had escaped without a drop of blood or scratch on her.

”We unfortunately have no way for you to clean up, nor anything to change into. Please, get some rest. I shall be outside your tent to ensure nothing like this happens again.”

Publia hugged her sister’s back while the other soldiers dragged their dead companions from the tent leaving a trail of blood behind and the two sisters shared their bedroll that night out of fear for what was to come.

[beebopboom]

Aziraphale’s Flaming Sword

get your mind out of the gutter - seriously it’s gonna get worse

i’m sure someone has already pointed this out and some meta post have been made but I just wanted to infodump about the actual history behind this sword so yeah

His sword is modeled after the Roman Gladius -or is it the other way around ;) - specifically the Pompeii version - so let’s just get into breaking this sword down

The Hilt

This type of sword has a three part hilt consisting of a pommel (which is used to counterweight the blade), a grooved wood grip (so your fingers fit better and thus have a stronger grip), and a guard (protects the hands from slipping onto the blade)

The Blade

For the Pompeii version of this sword it has double-edge sides that are parallel and come to a short, strong point - typically it would be made out of steel

Size

Usually ranged from 18-28 inches as it continually got smaller and smaller over the years

The History

(the most widely excepted one at least)

The Pompeii is actually one of the latest versions of the Roman Gladius so let’s go back to the beginning

The official origins of this sword have been up for debate but as for how it came under Roman influence that is credited to the Punic Wars in 3rd century B.C. (Republican Rome) - specifically to the Iberians who were allies to the Carthaginians and used a short sword that came to be called the “gladius Hispaniensis.” After the wars the Roman army (besides the cavalry) adopted these swords and began to make changes to better suit their needs.

Thus the Mainz-Fulham gladii came to be. It was their first attempts at making this devastatingly destructive sword the perfect sword for their use so they pretty much ended up retaining the shape (wasp-waisted) and only really making it shorter - mainly used to get through chainmail

Then the Pompeii version comes along with new parallel sides and a shorter tip - along with also making the whole sword smaller once again - mainly used to get through plate armor

This sword would then last the Roman legionary and auxiliary infantry until 2nd century A.D. when they are replaced with the spatha

But in the end this sword served the Roman Empire for more than three centuries, in both their Republic and Imperial times - that’s pretty damn impressive

Fighting Tactics

The Romans are pretty iconic for their tight formations and their Scutum shields

They also carried three different types weapons with them - couple of spears/javelins, a short sword, and a dagger. Obviously we are going to focus on the short sword

Soldiers actually wore their swords on their right side instead of their left because they were in such tight formation they didn’t have room to draw it across their body

With the exception for a Roman Centurion - who were commanders of a unit of about 100 soldiers and 60 of these guys(and their men) made up a Legion - as they wore their swords on the left

Now for what made the gladius so useful to the Romans was that it is mainly a thrusting sword - quick and efficient stabbing - which worked best with their formation but because it was also a double-edged sword it was great at cutting too if their formation ever broke

What they would do is while they were in their formations and trying to advance on the battleground they would take their sword and thrust it beside or above the shield - if they hit their target it more than likely resulted in a fatal injury. Though they weren’t above cutting their opponents at the knees - quite literally because if the opportunity arose they would lift their shields above them and slash at their knees.

It was all a very efficient way of fighting that served them well

obviously this is a very condensed version of a lot of history but it is the Human history behind Aziraphale sword

(and yes this is the type of sword the Roman soldiers have on them at Jesus’s crucifixion)

[dondusthefirstconsul]

the twins were such dumbasses at the beginning of the movie and it gives me life!!! when Acacius told the audience to ask the gods for bravery because "Rome needs it now" just plain obviously stating that the emperors are dragging the empire into ruins and the twins just go Huh? and then IMMEDIATELY start goofing around watching the games

I made an edit to highlight this (just on my phone so it's not anything crazy) but I don't know if it's legal to post lmao probs not

[confused-stars]

okay. so. tax collectors were businessmen that weren’t actually part of the government

they would estimate how much a province would be paying in taxes, and then they would bid for the right to collect in that region. the bids would have obviously had to be lower than the estimated number, but not too low since the state wanted its fair cut

so whoever bought the right to collect would pay the state, and then they’d go off to get their taxes (amount of the money paid to the state + however much extra they could get without bleeding a region dry and risking discontentment among the people)

that’s extremely clever of the senate, because they don’t have to actually care about any of the details. they just have to hold a little auction right in front of their doorstep, and the rest is out of their hands. plus, tax income for the state would always be somewhat steady and anything unexpected would be for the private tax collector to deal with

(now, senators weren’t officially allowed to meddle with this business, but of course they did. the tax collectors were often more like managers who would secretly give most of the profit to whichever senator sponsored them)

professor apologized that we had to learn about the Ancient Roman tax system today, and meanwhile I was sitting there wondering if I could find a whole seminar on that