mzorca

[mzorca]

In the eyes of Rome

Commodus/Reader, Hurt/comfort

Reader doubts her role as Empress, Commodus must make that right. 1,118 words

The day started just as any other did, the sun scorched the earth, making the air heavy and thick, stones sucked dry of moisture, slightly lighter in colour. The silk sheets of your bed clung to the sweat from your body, a welcomed light breeze flowed through the window of your sleeping quarters, cooling your back. However you weren't sure you could face the day- in fact, you dreaded leaving this bed. Something hung over you, it had been hibernating in the back of your mind but it weighed heavy upon you now. You felt immovable as you curled in on yourself, bringing the sheets over your head. 

Your arm stretched out to where Commodus would usually be, but as the gods would have it, of course, he was not there. He was Romes before he was yours, after all. You were romes as well, though, in an entirely different sense, you were not born into noble blood, but as all those who came before you, much was expected from the Emperor's wife. The pillar of the house, the perfect Roman woman, but- you could not care. Rome was a relentless mistress and you were merely a flash of light caught amongst its glory. You did not care anymore, you could hardly wish up enough energy to crawl to the floor.

Time passed, the day had slipped through your fingers like grains of sand, the sun sank below the horizon. You weren't sure if youd fallen asleep or if you'd been staring at the same frescoes since you awoke.

the door creaked open, and you didn’t need to turn your head to know who it was. Commodus stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the corridor. He was dressed in a simple white tunica, the fabric edged with a purple stripe denoting his imperial status, and his golden laurel wreath sat slightly askew on his brow. He crossed the room in a few strides, his sandals clacking against the mosaic floor. He grabbed the small basin from your bedside, the one filled with olive oil and lit up a small lamp which crackled off to the side of your head.

“You've been in bed all day, are you unwell?” He spoke softly, yet stern, brushing a small lock behind your ear.

“No, i am merely tired” You mumbled, You wanted to tell him your mind, how you felt unworthy of the crown, of the senator's cruel words, the recurring dream you had, where Rome is rendered down to fire and ash, how you believed you were the reason for its downfall. You feared his reaction most, if he would banish you from Rome with nothing but the clothes of your past life upon your back. 

“Do not lie, I have seen exhaustion, this is not that” His temper was short lived, a sheath which thinly veiled his concern for you. His hand slid between the sheets, his fingers brush against yours in a whisper of touch, a question- permission, his touch light and uncertain.

“You do not know what you wish me to say” You cracked, you turned your hand and he grasped it in an instant, clasping it between his hands as he clumsily flowered it with kisses from where it met the joint to the very tips of your fingers.

“Confess it to me quietly, shout it at me, I only wish that you tell me the truth, tell me why you torment yourself so, Dulcissima.” His lips tickled the soft hairs that peppered the back of your hand, his thumb caressing careful shapes upon the softness that cushioned your knuckles, he appeared almost hurt by your uncertainty.

“I fear the gods do not favour me, Commodus, I dream Rome dismantled” You gasped, the tears began falling. “I see it reduced to fire and ash. The Augurs read the signs, and they whisper that I bring great misfortune to Rome” Commodus’ face began to twist ever so slightly, twitching faintly with the effort of restraint, his hand held yours closer, a grip too firm to be just casual.

“The Gods have smiled greatly upon Rome, The Augurs attempt to understand the gods, but their wills are not easily understood, it does not dictate fate” His tone masked the molten that threatened to spill over with each breath, a boiling pot with a rattling lid.

“But even then, why does that matter? The senate believes, they question my every movement, they spout their vile words as if I am not there.” Your chest ached, your throat burned as the words clawed their way up.

“Do not let the superstitions of men cloud your heart” He said, his voice low but firm, like the rumble of distant thunder. He placed a soft kiss atop your temple, his lips lingering for a moment, as if to seal the words into your skin. “Rome was not built by blood alone but by the strength of its people– its women.” His tone was sharp, yet his touch remained tender.

You took in a final breath before letting the words tumble from your tongue “How can I stand by you as an Empress? I soil your good name with my un-Roman blood.” His resolve cracked, splitting apart like crumbling pottery. 

“Quiet, I won't listen to this” He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours as he took your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the tears that clung to your lashes.

“Do you believe I care for their approval? The senate's words are nothing but wind- empty and fleeting” The tension in his jaw had softened as he kissed your face between words, “I am the Emperor of Rome, I took you as my wife because I trust your insight, you are my name, my empire, my Rome.” His words hung heavy in the air, for a moment you could have believed them, you truly wanted to, but doubt lingered like a shadow.

“Promise me” You searched his eyes, the intensity of his gaze burned

“For as long as I'm able to draw breath” The weight of his words settled over you, but not the kind that set off a war in your mind– the ache deep in your chest dissipated, you were not what kept Rome down but was what brought it up. You leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand. One of your hands wandered to the fabric which wrinkled across his chest, feeling for that familiar thumping warmth which always bought comfort. Rome was a relentless mistress and you were merely a flash of light caught amongst its glory. But that did not have to be a bad thing.

[mzorca]

My guide for anyone wanting to send requests. ⊱≼🦌

Fair warning to anyone, whilst prompts/requests are welcomed, it is not guaranteed I will write them. This is my hobby, I will not force myself to write if I'm not feeling the prompt as I will most likely do your idea dirty.

I write for;

Interview with the vampire

• Devils minion, character/reader

Gladiator

• Character/reader

Wicked

•Glinda/Elphaba, Glinda & Elphaba

Game of thrones

•Brienne of Tarth/reader, Daenerys

Targaryen/reader

Alien

Boundaries;

• anything but freaky Aliens.

Arcane

• Anyone/reader anyone/anyone

But I keep an open mind for basically any fandom/ship!

Any theme/dynamic is welcomed, i write fluff, comfort/no comfort, aus, i am pretty flexible! I am an 18+ blog, I will write adult themes however these will be properly marked aswell as making up a small amount of my work.

Gore is okay, aslong as it does not go further than what is typically expected from the canon sources.

Headcanons are welcomed! However I draw the line at headcanons that grossly misinterpret a character, an example of that would be painting characters as abusive, whilst were on this topic... I will not write about incest or cnc. Yk anything.. illegal.

Last of all pretty please be clear in what you are requesting, noones ever gotten in trouble for over explaining themselves! I promise I would rather read a passionate, yet muddled request than a short and unclear one.

I am incredibly thankful for any interactions I get!! You are amazing ☆

[mzorca]

Navigating my little mind box

Here i will post my writing, I will also be taking in requests, for further information on that please read my BYI!

I often default to character×female reader, however, I am more than willing to write for afab, amab, the inbetween, whatever have you. ♡

BYI, for information on anyone sending requests.

Masterlist, a collection of my writing.