heramj

[heramj]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialist)

Chapter 2: Cinderella

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: You didn't expect things to turn out this way when you agreed to go on a second date with Harry. You can’t deny your feelings for him, but now you have a tough choice to make. His great personality makes every moment feel like a fairytale, but deep down, you know it has to end eventually. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, piv sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance Chapter Word Count: 7k, oops (next chapter will be intense one) authors note: I'm so glad you all showed so much love and interest in this story! Thanks a ton, everyone!

In the morning—just like every other morning—you put on your housekeeper's uniform and got yourself ready for the day. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you let out a sigh. The fancy dress you wore last night was tossed over the chair behind you, a total contrast to the outfit you had on now. You smiled at your reflection, thinking about how nice it was to wear something elegant, even if it was just for a little while. But then, reality hit you, and you sighed again, remembering what had happened the night before.

Your phone buzzed as you pulled your hair back to put it in a bun. But before you could grab your phone, there was a knock on the door. One of the other housekeeper girls peeked in and gave you a look. You could tell right away that Melanie had sent her.

“She wants to see you,” she said with a nervous grin.

“Of course she does,” you muttered, walking over to your bedside table to get your phone. Before stepping out, you unlocked it to check the latest message. You usually kept in touch with your cousin Zoe, who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn. She was the only one who reached out from time to time. It had been months since you last saw her, and it had been three years since you saw your parents, who lived in the countryside of Atlanta. However, that was okay; you and your dad had never really gotten along after your mom passed away. 

But the message wasn’t from Zoe; it came from a random number. You opened the notification and saw:

“Morning, kitty. Starting my day by hoping yours goes well.” 

It took a second for it to click who it was. 

Harry. 

Seriously? “Kitty?” He was something else, alright.

Just then, you heard Melanie’s voice squeaking out your name—like always. You weren’t in the mood to deal with Harry's message anyway, so you stuck your phone in your pocket and left the room.

Harry held his phone in one hand while sipping his morning coffee in his penthouse apartment, which offered a glorious view of New York. He was so eager for your message that he hadn’t even noticed his personal assistant, Oliver, had arrived.

“Earth to Harry,” Oliver said, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

Harry looked up, set his cup down on the counter, and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, Ollie.”

“Is there a problem? Is it bad news from the market?” Oliver asked.

Harry took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “Never mind.”

"Looks like you haven't had time to settle in yet, huh?" Oliver commented, glancing around the flat. "Some cleaning staff from the company will be here this afternoon. I've also arranged for you to see Hudson before lunch, as you requested."

“Great, thanks,” Harry muttered, still focused on his phone, a frown on his face.

“Oh, by the way, the matchmaker called me. She wants to know how last night’s date went.”

Harry checked his watch, clearly disinterested. “Nineteen minutes. She must’ve seen my message but still hasn’t replied.”

“What did you even say? Harry Castillo waiting for a text back from a girl? Someone pinch me,” Oliver mocked, widening his eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Was your date really that amazing? You weren’t so hyped about it before you left.”

He knew Oliver was right. This was only his second date since coming back from France, and he was starting to feel a bit desperate.

“So I guess miracles do happen,” Harry said with a grin.

Oliver folded his arms and leaned against the counter, looking bewildered. “Are you serious? You didn’t even like that girl’s résumé. You said, if I remember correctly, ‘It seems like a waste of time, but I’ll give it a shot.’”

“Even great Harry Castillo can be wrong sometimes,” Harry replied, grinning as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Wow, that’s definitely not like you, man. What did she do to you?”

Harry smiled. “I don’t know, but whatever she did, I want her to do more.”

“You’ll see her again, then. Should I cancel the other dates, or do you still want to give them a shot?” he asked.

Harry stood up, took his jacket off the chair, and put it on. “Cancel them all. In fact, I want you to clear my schedule for the next three days.”

Oliver knew what that meant. It was the same way Harry had acted the last time he had a crush on someone—clearing his entire schedule for a few days for that special girl. But, in the end, she wasn't the one. He just hoped this wouldn’t end the same way this time; he didn’t want to see him heartbroken again.

"He wants to go on a second date?" Melanie's voice echoed through the room—no, the entire mansion.

"For the fifth time, I'm answering your question. Yes, he does," you said with a grunt.

She stared at you. "Oh wow, look at her. She can joke too!"

"It wasn't a joke, but whatever," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Stop it and tell me how to get out of this," she barked.

"Should I tell you? It wasn't even my plan."

"My plan was solid until you messed it up," Melanie complained as she paced around the room.

"Is it my fault the guy likes me? I told you, this was a risky game from the start."

Melanie stopped and squinted at you. "Do you like him or something? Maybe you were flirting with him."

You laughed hysterically. "Flirting? Believe me, what I did was far from flirting."

Melanie took a moment to think before starting to pace again. "Ugh! Why then? Is it because of my name? Yeah, gotta be. He’s smart; he knows my dad is a big deal. Maybe he’s just after a marriage of convenience."

For some reason, that sounded ridiculous to you. If Harry was like that, he would have married another businessman's daughter a long time ago. He wasn’t the type to be rejected, both for financial reasons and due to his personality. He was a wonderful person. Wait a minute—why were you suddenly thinking that? Did you really hold feelings for him? No, that couldn’t be right. Besides, you needed to focus on solving the problem at hand. But then you suddenly recalled the moment he kissed you; the way his lips brushed against yours, the warmth of his hand on your skin—it was an unforgettable feeling and—

"Aren't you listening to me?" Melanie's squeal pulled you back to reality. 

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about how to get out of this," you lied. 

"There’s only one way out, and we have to do it fast, or this is going to get out of hand. Dad will be leaving for Europe this afternoon and will be away for a few days. We need to sort this out while he's gone."

That was good news, but you were still uncertain about when Harry would take you on a second date. You hoped it would be this week. Melanie picked up her phone and dialed someone. "Nate, I need you to do something for me. Meet me tonight."

Nate. 

He was Melanie's friend who always cleaned up after her, another guy with a wealthy father. Nate's father was a media mogul, and thanks to him, Melanie's dad, Jack, had managed to keep his daughter's many scandals away from the paparazzi and out of the press—that's how powerful Nate's father was. However, you really didn't like Nate. He was a wild card, the type who would hit on anything that moved. You definitely didn't want to meet him.

Fortunately, Melanie was meeting him at the club tonight, as she often did. Before she left, she warned you to find out when Harry was taking you on your next date.

You might have thought that Jack leaving the mansion would give you a sigh of relief, but his wife was even harder to deal with. She was hardly ever around, typically ignoring her daughter, yet they shared a strange closeness. They seemed more like friends than mother and daughter. Melanie had adopted all her mother’s habits. However, what her mother wanted from you was different.

“Shouldn't you be the one convincing Melanie to meet that guy? Do you have any idea who Harry Castillo is? Ugh, who am I talking to? Of course, you don't. I would love for him to be my son-in-law; it would be so good for our family. Just imagine the look on those snooty society women’s faces when they find out he’s marrying Melanie!"

She went on and on. You had to nod in response to her accusatory speeches; if you said anything negative or, heaven forbid, argued with her, she would start insulting you. Yes, this woman seemed to be aware of everything her daughter did, yet she never found fault with her. You were always the one to blame. Normally, she wouldn’t have engaged in such a long conversation with you, and you were usually thankful for that, but it seemed she was taking advantage of her husband’s absence to be bossy. It stung your pride, and in moments like those, all you wanted was to quit and leave without looking back. But you endured it patiently, surprising even yourself. Over time, you developed a method to pretend you had imaginary headphones in your ears, listening to your favorite music while this woman scolded you. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with you.

When you finally got to your room, hoping for some peace, you undid your hair bun, letting your hair fall over your shoulders, and lay down on your bed. You took your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it. Another text was sent from Harry’s number at 5:09 PM.

"Gosh, Melanie, so you do like to talk.”

You could almost hear his voice in your head as you read the message and grinned to yourself. But then you decided to call him—not because you missed his voice -of course you did- but because you thought it wasn’t fair to leave him hanging. You needed to find out when he was planning to ask you out again.

It rang a few times, and Harry answered. "The person you're calling is unavailable at the moment, perhaps because you didn't answer his morning message." he sounded mocking and a little offended.

You couldn’t help but giggle and decided to keep it fun. “Should I just hang up then—”

“No, no, no! Please don’t hang up,” he quickly replied, his tone softening. You giggled again and heard him let out a sigh. “I heard your beautiful laugh, so I’m not upset anymore.”

You didn’t respond, but you were smiling. “Well, I didn’t reply because you called me ‘kitty.’ It sounded like you were talking to your cat.”

"That's what I was doing, kitty." He laughed.

“Seriously? Still?” you groaned playfully. “I have a name,” you said, wishing he actually knew your real name.

“But you looked just like a kitten when you were devouring that dessert, licking your lips and fingers.”

Ugh, did he really have to remind you of that? 

“And I can’t forget the way your sweet tongue touched mine.”

You swallowed, and you knew he could probably hear it on the other end of the line.

“Anyway, get ready Wednesday morning; I’ll come pick you up,” he said after a pause.

“Oh, wow. Thanks for the heads-up, Mr. Castillo.”

You heard him chuckle. “Did that sound a little bossy to you?”

“A little,” you admitted, smirking, feeling like he was right there with you instead of on the phone.

“Alright, let me give it another shot,” he said, clearing his throat. “Miss. Johnson, I was thinking of coming to pick you up Wednesday morning if you're free.” His sarcasm was so endearing, you couldn’t help but crack up.

“I know, fail on my part, right? What can I say? I don’t usually talk like that.” You were still laughing, and Harry was smiling along, enjoying your laughter. “If you’re going to laugh like that, then I should talk like this all the time.”

But then your smile faded; every time he complimented you, it hit you with guilt and embarrassment. The reason you met him, your whole situation, was a reminder that knocked you hard each time.

“Anyway, it’s probably time for you to sleep. Be a good girl and get to bed early.”

“Oh, are you gonna give me candy too, mister?” you teased back.

“I can give you all the candy in the world, just say the word, sweet girl.” His tone felt really sincere, and something inside you believed he could actually do it. 

Why was your heart racing all of a sudden?

"Good night, Melanie," he said, and another truth came to the surface that hit you like a slap in the face.

You just mumbled as you hung up the phone, "Good night Harry.”

You lay in bed for a while, phone in hand. This was not a time for dreaming or getting excited. This was not your life; you weren’t Melanie, the rich girl with a millionaire father living in luxury. When Harry discovered the truth, you knew you would be worthless in his eyes. You couldn't blame him; you wanted this and had to face the consequences. You only wished you hadn’t fallen in love with him; otherwise, you knew you would be the one hurt the most at the end of this story. 

You had never been in love before. In fact, you always thought love was something exaggerated. The relationship between your mom and dad was based on respect and loyalty—always had been. Years ago, before starting this job, you had ended a toxic relationship and moved to New York. You felt free and happy to have escaped it. You promised yourself that when you came to New York, you would shed your southern accent, improve yourself, find a proper job, and start saving money to fulfill your dreams. You were determined not to let any man into your life for a while, but you never anticipated things would unfold like this.

Rolling over in bed, you buried your face in the pillow and moaned. Why did it have to be here and not at some other rich family’s place on the Upper East Side? Just then, something happened to justify your misery: your phone rang. You instinctively knew that only one thing could call you at this hour—trouble. Melanie was out again, and you knew she was in trouble before you even answered the phone.

“Melanie?” you said.

“It’s Nate. Babe, I need you to get over here ASAP. Melanie’s totally wasted, and we had a fight. You’ve gotta pick her up and take her home.”

Babe? 

Of course, it was Nate. You sighed and pressed the phone to your forehead. “Fine, I’m on my way,” you grumbled through clenched teeth.

This was nothing new; you’d picked her up from clubs, rescued her after fights, and kept her out of the paparazzi’s sight. You’d gotten pretty good at all of it.

You quickly opened your wardrobe to change, slipping on some jeans and a blouse, fixing your hair, and leaving your room while muttering and swearing under your breath.

When the driver brought you to the club, you felt a wave of nervousness upon seeing the paparazzi gathered at the entrance. Fortunately, you were accustomed to entering through the back door of such venues, where security was stationed, and you had often seen many famous faces. The driver was familiar with the routine, so you told him to wait with the engine running while you stepped out of the car. After explaining the situation to security, you headed inside. The moment you entered, the volume of the music surged, making it difficult to hear your own voice.

As soon as you spotted Nate, you made your way over to him, pushing a few people aside in the process. You noticed Melanie was barely conscious, her head bobbing from side to side. Nate was struggling to hold her up, so you slipped under her other arm to help.

“Why'd you let her drink so much?” you whispered, trying to keep Melanie steady.

Nate shot you a confused look. “Seriously, babe? Don't act like you don't know her.”

“Whatever, the car's waiting outside,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, let’s get this wasted girl out of here,” he replied.

You both managed to get outside, but your heart nearly stopped when you spotted Harry across the street by his car.

“Crap, let’s turn around,” you said, quickly pulling Melanie to the other side of the street.

“What the hell is going on?” Nate asked, annoyed.

“Harry's here,” you explained.

He glanced over and swore. “What’s he doing here?”

“Hell if I know,” you muttered.

A moment later, a guy and a girl stepped out of the same door you had come through and walked over to Harry. The girl looked just as drunk as Melanie, and to your shock, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck.

What the hell?

Harry said something to her, helped her into his car, and then hopped in beside her. The guy must’ve been his driver; he got in the front, started the car, and they sped off.

Nate snickered. “Looks like Harry Castillo’s on the prowl. Nice. I envy him.”

You shot him a glare. Just then, Melanie threw her head back, moaned, and violently vomited on Nate. 

Nate screamed in disgust, “Damn it, Mel! Ugh, that's disgusting!”

“Good riddance,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your other arm around Melanie's waist while you ignored Nate’s curses as you led her to the car.

You woke up feeling a bit down. You’d stayed up way too late the night before dealing with Melanie, and seeing Harry with another woman was really bothering you. It kinda sucked, but shouldn’t you feel relieved? After all, things weren’t serious between you two. Harry was a good-looking guy, and of course, there would always be women around—that was just how it went. But how could he tell you to hit the sack early and then go out to a nightclub? It didn’t seem fair. 

But who were you to judge him, right? Maybe you should’ve just taken it as a sign to end things for good after that second date. That way, you wouldn’t have felt so sympathetic toward him, and you could have ended it decisively. Yeah, you definitely should’ve done that.

You got out of bed, put on your uniform, and styled your hair. Just as you were putting your shoes on, your phone buzzed with a message. Like yesterday, it was from Harry:  

“Wish I could be holding you this morning.” 

You sighed, whispering to yourself, “Oh, I bet you held someone else last night, didn’t you, Harry?”

You tucked the phone into your pocket, but another message arrived:

“Are you missing me? Yes or yes.”  

You couldn’t help but smile and decided to tease him back.  

“You know there are letters N and O in the alphabet.”  

A few minutes later, came his reply:  

“I’ll erase them from today.”  

How could he flirt with you while he was with another woman? Could there have been a misunderstanding? 

When you heard your name called, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket and headed out. After giving Melanie's mom the scoop on last night, you jumped into your usual tasks. You were called to help the cook in the kitchen. This happened a lot; Danilo, the Italian chef, was an amateur, but he knew his way around food.

"I'm telling you, girl, you should quit this job and start that bakery of yours. You have natural talent," he said as you sat at the counter, enjoying the sesame bread you had just baked.  

"Soon, Danilo, very soon," you replied with a smile.  

One of the girls walked into the kitchen. “Danilo, Mrs. Johnson says her eggs are too greasy. She’s watching her calories and wants them cooked low fat again.” 

Danilo sighed and muttered something in his native language. “Maybe you can take me with you when you open that bakery restaurant? Please?” he suggested, looking at you.  

You nodded, “With pleasure, chef.” You gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and helped him prepare the eggs. 

After you took a tray to the mother and daughter having breakfast outside, your phone buzzed again. Just as you came back inside and picked it up, you heard the elevator ding downstairs. One of the housekeepers was taking a big black box with a red ribbon from a delivery guy—it was probably another delivery for Melanie or her mom, like always. But then you checked your phone and saw Harry’s message:  

“Can’t wait to see it on you.”  

You paused for a moment, then turned around and stopped the housekeeper. 

“Let me see it for a minute,” you said, examining the box. It was labeled Ralph Lauren, and a card was pinned under the ribbon. You gasped as you read the carefully written words on the card: 

For my kitty. 

“I'll take this,” you said, reaching for the box. 

The girl shrugged and handed it to you. She was accustomed to this kind of situation, but what she didn’t know was that this box had been sent to you. You felt a thrill of excitement as you walked to your room, cradling the box in your arms. There had to be an elegant dress inside. 

“Hey, stop right there!” 

That was Melanie. You did what she said and turned around, feeling a bit annoyed. Her eyes went wide when she saw the box. 

“Where do you think you’re taking that? Bring it here!” 

“It’s from Mr. Castillo; he must have sent it for the date tomorrow,” you mumbled. 

Ignoring your tone, Melanie quickly tugged at the ribbon and opened the box. 

“Oh my God! This is from the new season! It's part of the special collection! It was in the fashion show in Paris just a few weeks ago!” She pulled out the stunning black dress and held it up. “This is amazing! I have to try it on right now!” 

“But he sent it for me,” you said, frowning. 

“So?” 

“It would be rude not to wear the dress meant for me.” 

“That’s exactly what we’re looking for, silly, let it be,” she said, zipping the dress up and slipping it on. “Oh, the fabric feels incredible.” 

You couldn’t remember a time when her words or actions had hurt you this much. You swallowed hard, trying to keep all the nasty things you wanted to say to her. “So what am I supposed to wear? The great Melanie needs to wear something elegant, right?” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, looking slightly annoyed. The dress was a little loose on her. You definitely had a fuller figure than she did, and you knew you’d look way better in that dress. Maybe that was why she seemed upset. 

“I’ll let you borrow one of the Pradas I got for my birthday last month,” she said before heading over to show her mom the dress. You just stared at her, and then your gaze dropped to the card in your hand, reading again the words that Harry wrote for you. 

For my kitty. 

Wednesday morning rolled around, and you were feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. The dress Melanie had given you after swiping yours wasn’t as bad as the other one he sent, but it wasn’t great either. It was strapless, a bit tight, and super long, making it tricky to walk comfortably—you could totally see why Melanie had tossed it aside. After getting yourself ready, you checked your bag and saw a text from Harry: 

"I’m outside. Don’t keep me waiting too long, beautiful."

Your heart began to race, and you could practically hear it thumping in your ears. Before you left the house, Melanie handed you a fancy jacket and reminded you, "When you get back, make sure to get rid of him for good." Her words echoed in your mind as you stepped out of the lift. This time, it would definitely be over—but not in the way she intended. You needed to act mature and honest, like a responsible woman. Regardless of what happened, you had to keep your guard up and not let your emotions show.

When you walked out the door, you froze. Harry was leaning against his car, holding a bouquet of pink roses. The moment he saw you, a huge smile lit up his face. When he spotted you, a huge smile spread across his handsome face. So much for not letting your guard down. All the resolutions you had made moments ago felt fragile, carried away by a light breeze.

As you approached him, you felt those promises fading one by one. Your heart raced to the point that it overshadowed your thoughts. When you reached him, his smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. "Hi, beautiful," he said, handing you the flowers. You smiled and accepted them. 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet,” you replied, enjoying their scent.

Harry paused for a moment, checking you out. His expression changed a bit. “You know, you look fantastic just the way you are, but I have to ask—did you not like the dress I sent you?”

There it was—the question you had been expecting. It was tough to lie when you had so much on your mind. You wanted to say everything to him, everything, but you just couldn't, and you hated that.

“Harry, the dress was really pretty, and I liked it a lot, but I’m so clumsy. I spilled coffee on it, and I'm really sorry.” You looked down, feeling embarrassed.

Harry frowned when he saw the look on your face and grabbed your hand. With his other hand, he opened the car door for you. 

“Get in, kitty; we’ll grab you a new one,” he said, helping you in and shutting the door behind you. He quickly walked around to the driver’s seat, buckled up, and started the engine. 

“Honestly, you don’t need to do that,” you said as you put your seatbelt on. 

“The most important thing you should know about me, sweet girl,” he said, grinning as he began to drive, “is that I always follow through with what I promise.” He winked at you, pressing the gas pedal and speeding down the road. 

“So where are you taking me?” you asked. 

“I’d rather hear your guesses,” he replied with a grin. 

“Considering how fancy the dress was, it has to be the nicest brunch spot in New York,” you guessed. 

He chuckled. “Nope, wrong answer, sweetheart. Want to try again?” 

“Sure, but I want a hint.” 

“Not without a price. Come a little closer.” 

When the car came to a stop at a red light, you leaned in. He leaned over and kissed you on the cheek, right where you felt yourself blush. 

“Now, what’s your guess?” he asked. 

You thought for a moment. When you think of what rich people usually do for dates, a fancy restaurant comes to mind, but you had another idea. 

“Are you taking me out on your private yacht or something for breakfast?” 

He laughed. “Oh, close, but you’re off again.” 

You made a face and pouted. “Fine, I’m out of guesses.” 

“I see you gave up pretty quick.” 

“That’s not true! I just didn’t want to ruin your fun by getting it right,” you teased. 

He raised his eyebrows sarcastically, smirking as he laughed. You shrugged and shot him a cool smile. 

“Anyway, we’re almost there,” he said, looking pretty pleased with himself.

A moment later, your jaw dropped as you realized where you were. "Harry, wait, this is the airport. Why are we here?" 

He just kept grinning and drove away from the area with regular flights. Soon, he stopped the car in front of a private jet. A couple of attendants came over and opened the doors for you both. 

“Mr. Castillo, welcome! Everything’s ready for your flight, sir,” one of them said, then turned to you. “Welcome, Miss Johnson. This way, please.” 

Suddenly, you felt really nervous looking at that private jet. This was something you never saw coming. Harry walked over, putting his hand on your waist. “Come on, let’s not waste time. We’ve got dinner in Paris to get to.” 

You stared at him wide-eyed. “Did you say Paris? I didn’t even bring my passport, and I’m not sure if I'm ready for that.” 

He chuckled as he pulled you toward the plane. “Don’t worry, just trust me.” 

As you stepped towards the jet, you recognized the guy from the other night—you thought he was Harry’s driver. He smiled at you. “Miss Johnson.” 

Harry wrapped his arm around you as you climbed the airstairs and stepped into the jet. You looked around, completely in awe. You had been on a jet before, but that was just to meet Melanie when she came back from abroad. You’d never actually flown in one like this. This jet looked way more luxurious, with seats for ten or fifteen people that looked super comfy. Harry sat you in the window seat and took the one next to you. Once the door closed, the pilot reminded everyone to fasten their seatbelts, and Harry helped you with yours. 

“Feeling nervous?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you lied. It wasn’t the flying that made you nervous; you had been on scheduled planes countless times. It was just that you had never left the States before. But you couldn’t let him know that. 

The jet soon took off, and breakfast was served. It was like a meal from the fanciest restaurant. 

“Dinner, you mentioned earlier. Is it because we’ll be arriving in the evening?”

Harry glanced at his watch. “Yep. The flight’s about seven hours, and Paris is five hours ahead of New York, so we’ll get there just in time for dinner.” He smiled at you. “But enjoy your breakfast now. Try this,” he said, handing you a piece of lemon-flavored poppy seed muffin. You recognized it from Danilo and realized it was just as good. 

With seven hours to kill, you had plenty of time to chat. You also met Oliver, who turned out to be Harry’s assistant. He was nice and friendly, but to you, he was just another guy you had to keep secrets from. 

Even though you were excited to visit one of the cities you’d always wanted to see, the whole situation felt a bit sour. You were scared—scared of getting too caught up in everything and of things possibly getting out of control. The deeper your relationship with Harry got, the harder it would be for either of you to break things off, especially for you. 

You didn’t realize you had dozed off in your thoughts. You were awakened by the pilot’s gentle announcement, and when you looked up, Harry was staring at you. Was he actually watching you sleep?

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We've arrived."

You quickly turned your head and looked down at the magical city below, shining in all its splendor. Then you looked at Harry. “We really are in Paris,” you said cheerfully.

“Yes, we are,” he replied with a smile.

As the jet touched down on the runway, you jolted slightly. When it came to a complete stop, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, followed by Oliver, who came to stand beside him.

“Dinner's ready; they're waiting for you,” Oliver informed him.

"Good," Harry replied, holding out his hand to you. "Come on, gorgeous."

You smiled a little and took his hand as you both stepped out into the stunning city.

“How hungry are you now?” Harry asked as the car drove you through the streets of Paris.

“Hmm, a little. Why?”

“Firstly, I promised you a dress, and I have to fulfill that promise.”

You looked at him. “You're not one to give up easily, are you?”

Harry grinned. “You're starting to get to know me; that’s good. But I still don’t really know you, and I don’t like that. We should fix that, don’t you think?”

You sighed and turned your head to look out over the city. As much as you wanted to, how were you going to share your story with him?

The car pulled up to a street full of famous brand-name shops. Harry got out first, and then you followed. The shop that was supposed to be closed at this hour had opened up just for you. Honestly, you should have stopped being surprised by everything when you were with Harry.

Two assistants came over to help and took you to the ladies' department, bringing you a bunch of dresses to try on. You picked out a couple and modeled them one after the other in the fitting room, showing them off to Harry. After a bit, you started to complain about how tired you were of putting them on and taking them off. Harry suggested you just keep the one you were wearing since he liked it best.

“The black one is awesome,” he said. “But honestly, they all look great on you, so I’m getting them all,” he told the shop assistant. 

“Wait, all of them? But—”

Harry put a finger to his lips and gave you a playful smile, silencing you in a way that surprised you. How could he be so incredible? 

Oliver tossed the bags into the trunk, Harry glanced at your shoes. “We would’ve looked for shoes and bags too, but it’s getting late.” 

“Oh, please, I’m so tired,” you whined. 

“Alright, we’ll look tomorrow. Let’s go,” he said, opening the car door for you.

“Man, I really respect models,” you said as you hopped into the car. “They must be wiped out after those fashion shows.”  

“You’d make a great model; you know,” Harry replied.

“I’ll pass,” you sighed.

"That’s a total bummer for the fashion world," he joked, making you giggle.

The restaurant where Harry brought you for dinner was a breathtaking oasis, with the Eiffel Tower standing proudly before you like a sentinel of romance, shimmering under the glow of the city lights. A soft, warm breeze danced around you, carrying with it the sweet notes of a gentle melody that intertwined with the clinking of fine glassware. The table was adorned with exquisite dishes and velvety wine, while a charming gentleman sat across from you, creating an enchanting atmosphere that felt plucked straight from a fairy tale. In that moment, you felt like a princess swept away by magic, but deep down you were aware that when the clock struck midnight, the spell would be broken, and you would return to being Cinderella. Embracing the fleeting beauty of the evening, you allowed yourself to savor every second.

After the meal, you strolled hand in hand to the Eiffel Tower, embarking on an adventure that lovers had cherished for centuries. As you climbed higher, the city below unfolded like a magnificent tapestry, alive and vibrant, each twinkling light telling a story of its own. You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the breathtaking view, and Harry, equally entranced, seemed to find the beauty in you as well. Every gentle touch of his hand against yours sent a thrill through you, and whenever you noticed his intense gaze, you instinctively looked away, each moment thick with unspoken words. You sensed he was waiting for your decision, yet uncertainty clung to your heart.

"Have you made up your mind yet?” Harry asked as he surveyed the expansive cityscape laid out before you.

You turned to face him, your heart racing as you searched for the right words. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, intertwining your thoughts and emotions.

"There's something you haven't told me, isn't there?”

You met his gaze again. "What will you do if my answer is no?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry offered a troubled smile and sighed deeply. "I’ll be hurt for sure, but you know me—I won’t give up easily. Still, I'm desperately hoping you won’t reject me," he replied, his voice trembling. Your heart ached as you looked into his eyes. For a moment, you simply stared at each other; time seemed to slow, and the city below blurred into the background.

“So what's the matter? Is there something you've heard about me that's holding you back? What happened in the past is really in the past. I'm not that foolish playboy anymore.”

Now that he had brought it up, it was time to confront what was bothering you inside. “Is that so? I bet you never go to nightclubs either.”

He frowned at the tone in your voice for a moment. 

“You were at he club the other night with a woman—only a few minutes after you told me to go to bed early.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, I never even set foot in that club... Besides,  she was an old friend, not what you think. Now tell me, what were you doing there after you said goodnight to me? After you promised me you’d go to bed early?”

Oh, you were in trouble.

It was a complete misunderstanding, and you wanted to kick yourself. “I didn’t promise anything...” you responded evasively.

He pinched your chin and forced you to look straight at him. "So you've been a bad girl? I should punish you." He said in a husky voice, his fingers tangled in your hair, going for your neck, drawing you close and kissing you.

The kiss was passionate, irresistible, overwhelming; you were about to lose yourself in his hot breath but were able to stop yourself somehow. He noticed your lips remained still, and instinctively, he paused, pulling back just enough to create a breath of space between you. “There you go again,” he said, his voice deep. “You're holding yourself back, but I can see it in your eyes—you want me too.” 

You turned your head, feeling the warmth of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, your heart racing as the battle within you intensified. 

“Don’t even try to convince me you don’t want this. What we have is real, special.”

"You are right," you said after a moment of silence. "There’s something I didn’t tell you, and it’s really tough to say. Once I open up, how you respond will really shape what comes next, and I’ve got to admit, that makes me a little nervous, Harry.”

He thought about it for a second, and then he gave you a teasing look. "Did you, like, kill someone and bury them in your backyard or something?"

You stared at him in disbelief but couldn't help smiling; he always knew how to make you laugh. After you both shared a chuckle, you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

Harry took your hand and looked you in the eyes. "Look, whatever it is you're hiding doesn’t really matter."

"But—" 

"No, really. When I said you were different, it may sound a bit cheesy, but I truly mean it. I really don’t want to lose you, and I know you feel the same way. So why don’t we just enjoy these next three days together? We can talk about everything when we get back to New York. And if you really did kill someone, I can arrange for a good lawyer for you.” He chuckled, and you covered your face with your hand, suppressing your smile.

“For now, just let it all out." He gently brushed your cheek with his knuckles. "All I want is to see you smile.”

You huffed, “Alright if that’s how you want to do it.”

“Yes. Now give me that cute smile of yours.”

You smiled at him, and he returned it with a bright smile. “Perfect. Now let’s head to the hotel; you must be exhausted.” He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.  

“Okay, thank you,” you whispered, looking at him. “For everything.”  

He drew you in even tighter, brushing his lips gently against the crown of your head. The intoxicating aroma of his perfume enveloped you, weaving an invisible bond between you. The warmth of his skin radiated against your cheek, a comforting heat that seeped through the soft fabric of his shirt, like a hidden treasure waiting to be uncovered.

After Oliver dropped you off at the hotel, he helped you with the check-in before finally answering his phone, which had been ringing for ages. “Go for Oliver."

“Can I talk to Mr. Castillo? It's urgent!”

Oliver glanced at you as you two headed for the elevator. “He's kinda busy right now,” he said. “Honestly, it seems like he might’ve finally found what he’s been looking for,” he added with a smirk, admiring the two of you from afar. “We won’t be needing your services anymore.”

“You’re not getting it—our system has been hacked. I have been trying to contact you. He needs to know about this. The woman he’s with isn’t Melanie Johnson.”

Oliver’s face shifted immediately, and he froze. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”  

"I wish I were kidding! I'm not sure how it happened, and we're still figuring it out. If he can contact me ASAP, I can fill him in on all the details. Please reach out as soon as you can."

“Tell me everything first. I’ll let him know.” He said, starting to listen to what the matchmaking agency person was saying.

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when marcus came to see her OMG!!!

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XXV. Sorrow

A Fronte Praecipitium, A Tergo Lupi.

A precipice in front, wolves behind.

As you arrived at the villa, you jumped off the horse, with Lucius helping you down with a firm hand. You dashed into the courtyard, your heart pounding with urgency. The moment Tullia and the others spotted you, their faces bore a mix of concern and relief. They then realized you were covered in blood, but their concern melted away when they noticed you were unharmed, not physically at least. Decima approached you, cradling Marcius closely, while Norell held your little girl protectively against her chest.

“We must leave at once, my lady,” Felix urged, his voice urgent. “They will be here soon.”

The carriage was already prepared.

“My lady, your clothes...” Tullia began, her eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. “Let me help you change—”

“I'm afraid there's no time,” Lucius interrupted.

“Don't worry, I'll be fine; we'll be fine,” you promised, offering them a reassuring smile despite your own burgeoning fear, noticing the unshed tears glistening in their eyes.

“I wish you could have come with me,” you confessed, a lump forming in your throat.

“We'd only slow you down,” Tullia replied, her voice steady despite the sorrow etched on her features.

“It is only important that you are safe, my lady,” Norell added, her gaze steady and resolute. “We will follow after you reach safety.”

Tullia took your hand in hers, warmth and worry swirling in her grip. “Gods help you; my prayers are with you, Domina,” she said.

You hugged her tightly, tears streamed down your face.

With a heavy heart, you took one last look at their worried faces before climbing into the carriage beside Decima, leaving the safety of your home behind for the uncertain and perilous journey that lay ahead.

During the travel to escort you and your children to a safe location, Felix and Cato were stationed directly behind the carriage, flanked on either side by two additional soldiers. Lucius positioned himself at the back with one soldier accompanying him.

The enormous gate of the yard creaked open, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around your little girl, pulling her tightly against you as the carriage surged forward down the dusty road. The air was thick with the smell of earth and the sounds of hooves thundering against the ground. Marcius, perched joyfully on Decima's lap, radiated innocence and happiness, his joy a stark contrast to the tension surrounding you. His brown eyes sparkled, mirroring the deep warmth of his father's gaze. In that moment, you knew you could face the worst fate imaginable—a fate that could even take your own life—but losing him was inconceivable. You would fight tooth and nail to ensure he and your little girl would survive.

Suddenly, the distant sound of neighing horses pierced the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You exchanged anxious glances with Decima, the worry evident in your furrowed brows.

“Felix! We’re being followed!” Cato's voice sliced through the tension, urgency lacing his words.

“Shit!” Felix’s roared.

Lucius turned swiftly in his saddle, his eyes narrowing as he spotted two imposing horsemen advancing. “You go ahead; I’ll hold them off!” he shouted.

“You go with him!” Felix snapped at the other soldier.

“Yes, sir!” the soldier replied, drawing his sword with a practiced motion, the blade glinting.

Lucius pivoted his horse, ready to confront the impending threat.

Panic surged within you as you peered out the carriage window, your heart racing at the sight of him riding away to face danger alone.

“Lucius!” you cried out, desperation filling your voice.

But your fear deepened as you realized it wasn’t just two horsemen—more were galloping toward you, a dark wave of impending doom closing in.

“Ride faster! Do not stop, no matter what!” Felix commanded the coachman, sword drawn and ready. The soldiers rallied behind him, drawing their weapons and positioning themselves defensively to shield the carriage as more horsemen closed in from all sides. Chaos erupted into a full-fledged battle.

"Cut off the carriage!" a voice pierced through the chaos. A surge of soldiers emerged, and two of them forced the coachman to stop. Overwhelmed with terror, you clutched your little girl tightly as the carriage came to a sudden and forceful halt. In the midst of the turmoil, you felt a sharp pain as your head struck the rough edge of the carriage. The sounds of battle mingled with your daughter’s frightened cries, amplifying the chaos that surrounded you.

“Aurelia! Are you alright?” Decima cried, her fingers brushing the spot where you had struck your head, noticing a trickle of blood oozing down your temple.

“Yes, I believe so. But what about you?”

"Thank Gods, we're alright." She said. You both checked Marcius to see if he's hurt.

Marcius whimpered, crying as tears glistened in his eyes. You leaned down and gently pressed a soothing kiss atop his head.

“What are we going to do now?” Decima murmured.

“I do not know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, weighed down by uncertainty.

Sitting anxiously in the carriage, you peeked outside through the small window. The cacophony of clashing swords and anguished shouts reached your ears. The oppressive confinement began to suffocate you, and, with a sense of deliberate resolve, you eased the carriage door open. You were feeling trapped, so you sought an opportunity to escape.

The scene outside was a whirlwind of despair. Felix, Cato, and other soldiers fought bravely against others, their swords glinting fiercely and the sound of metal echoing through the woods. Suddenly, a soldier charging to aid you was struck down, an arrow piercing his throat with deadly precision. He crumpled to the ground, the life draining from his eyes, and a cry of horror escaped your lips.

"You fools! Do not harm the princess!"

The words echoed through the chaos like a piercing bell, and their owner was unmistakably Varus. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you saw him stride towards you, determination etched into his features.

Was he here for Marcius?

If he had been scheming alongside Elagabalus all this time, his intentions were as perilous as a hungry wolf’s gaze. Your thoughts raced, and in that frantic moment, instinct kicked in. You lunged for the sword lying abandoned on the ground, the cold steel belonging to a soldier felled by an unseen arrow. It was heavier than you anticipated, a weight that felt foreign in your hands. Memories of Marcus's training flickered in your mind, the lessons with the wooden sword that now seemed a distant memory. You fought against the nervous tremor in your hands and clutched the weapon tighter, forcing yourself to focus.

“It’s dangerous out there; stay inside!” you called to Decima, urgency lacing your voice. Her wide eyes mirrored the turmoil around you, but there was no escape for you or the children. The air was thick with the tension of too many soldiers, their presence forming a formidable wall of steel and intent, sealing off any chance of escape.

Felix jumped in front of Varus, who was approaching you, and made a move to stab him with his sword but failed. Another soldier advanced toward you, and you lifted your sword. It felt heavy in your hands. You tried to lunge but, shaking, fell to your knees. Quickly picking yourself up, you found Varus grabbing you by the arm and lifting you off the ground. “You will hurt yourself with that sword, my lady,” he grinned as he easily took the weapon from you and threw it away.

You glanced at the other soldier who opened the carriage door and forcibly pulled Marcius away from Decima. “No!” you shouted with all your might. You lunged toward him, but Varus's strong arm held you back. “Get your hands off me!”

When Lucius heard your cries, he swung his sword at his opponent before charging at him and plunging his pugio into his back without the other soldier realizing. With a groan of agony, the soldier released Marcius, but Lucius caught him before he could fall to the ground.

“Marcius!” you cried out as you lunged toward him, but once again, your effort fell short. Panicking, you shouted at Varus, “Let go!” as you twisted and turned, struggling against his grip.

Lucius quickly handed Marcius back to Decima and shouted, “Get back in the carriage now!”

He was on his way to save you when a number of arrows suddenly fell onto them; they purposefully pointed them at them rather than at you, which infuriated you. Before she could get to the carriage, Decima was struck, and she and Marcius tumbled to the ground. The shaft of the arrow had become trapped in Marcius' tiny body, precisely in his chest, after piercing Decima's arm around him. In order to avoid crushing him with her own weight, Decima placed her palm on the ground and used her arm for support. You forgot to breathe as Marcius lay there with his eyes closed. "MARCIUS!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. Your entire body shook with pain, shock, and wrath.

Your screams caused Felix Cato Lucius and the others to pause for a moment as they fought their opponents, but only to continue fighting back with more fury and determination.

Varus felt a sense of satisfaction as he saw Marcius lying motionless on the ground. “Kill every last one of them!” he shouted while pulling you closer, away from your family.

You struggled with all your strength, pulling the pugio from its scabbard at Varus' waist and swinging it at his throat with a quick thrust. But he was quicker than you; he caught your hand instantly. However, you could make a cut, just enough for the blood to flow. Groaning, Varus became so furious that he struck you with such force that, before you realized it, you suddenly collapsed onto the dusty ground, and darkness surrounded you like a thick fog, swallowing every trace of light and consciousness.

About thirty-six hours later, Marcus and Octavius finally reached Rome. The streets glistened with rain, reflecting the fading light of the sun as it dipped below the horizon, ceding the sky to the watchful moon. It felt as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the tragedy that had befallen the city below. Peering out from a lofty hill, Marcus inhaled deeply, a sense of homecoming washing over him; yet, he remained blissfully unaware that he had arrived too late.

As they urged their weary horses toward the grand city, an ominous silence enveloped them. Despite their frantic ride, fatigue weighed heavily on their bodies after a relentless day and a half of travel. As they passed under the arch dedicated to Romulus and Remus, a shiver of unease ran through Marcus. The soldiers usually stationed near the gates - silent sentinels of the city - were conspicuously absent.

The streets stretched before them like empty veins, leading ominously toward the Colosseum and the Roman Forum, devoid of the usual life and laughter. It felt as though the city itself had been abandoned, its heart stilled. Dim shadows danced behind the darkened windows of homes and buildings, their inhabitants seemingly swallowed by despair.

The rain continued to fall, each drop echoing softly as the horses’ hooves clattered against the slick stone streets. As they approached a winding path leading to Palatine Hill, Marcus and Octavius exchanged concerned glances, disturbed by the hushed whispers that brushed against their ears like an unsettling breeze. Further along, a massive crowd came into view, their murmurs swelling into a crescendo of grief.

They saw the crowd gathered around Palatine Hill, torches flickering like haunted fireflies in the dusky gloom. A deep sorrow hung in the air, palpable and heavy. Women wept openly, their cries piercing the night, while men and children stood silently, their faces etched with heartache and confusion. The sense of foreboding thickened as Marcus and Octavius realized they had ridden into a storm of misery that had engulfed their beloved city.

Marcus frowned, suspecting more or less what it meant. But soldiers were everywhere, and it was dangerous for him to approach Palatine Hill before he knew for sure what had happened. No one knew he was alive yet, and it was best to keep it that way for a while. You were the only one on his mind, and he needed to make his way to the villa because he was worried about his family. As tired as they were, they had to press on; his concern for his family was overwhelming.

When they soon arrived at the villa, he jumped off his horse. The animal was so exhausted that it did not even move after he dismounted. Marcus's tired legs trembled as they approached the courtyard. There was no sign of life in the villa—no sounds, no lights, nothing. The courtyard, where Marcius had taken his first steps and where the slaves once hurried to do their work, was now eerily quiet.

He glanced at the lectus and the table in the corner and imagined you sitting there when he returned from his evening duties. You would have gotten up immediately to greet him, rushing to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He then sighed, and he climbed the stairs to your room. The wind blew through the window, causing the tulle to dance around your once cozy, now abandoned bed. As he looked at the bed, all his memories flashed before his eyes, and his heart ached with the feeling of abandonment.

It was too late…

He spotted a delicate piece of his little girl’s swaddling clothes lying on the bed. He picked it up and brought it to his nose, inhaling the sweet, soothing scent that lingered like a cherished memory. Suddenly, his gaze darted toward the wooden closet across the room. He leaped to his feet, urgency propelling him forward. As he neared the closet, a sinking realization washed over him—the shelves had been emptied. Only yours and children's clothes that were missing; Marcus's own clothes remained undisturbed in their place. A flicker of hope ignited within him, a glimmer of what he had suspected.

With quickened steps, he left the room and descended the stairs, where Octavius was just returning from the stables, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Acacius, all the horses and the carriage have been taken,” he said.

“So have the clothes,” Marcus replied.

“Do you think they could be where we discussed earlier?” Octavius asked.

“Let’s get moving,” Marcus urged. But at that moment, a rustling noise from the courtyard near the kitchen caught their attention, snapping them into alertness. Marcus instinctively drew his sword, the blade glinting in the dim light, and signaled for Octavius to follow him.

With caution, Octavius advanced toward the sound, his footsteps calculated, while Marcus broke away to flank from the other side, every muscle tensed and ready.

As the door connecting the kitchen to the back garden creaked shut, Octavius turned back toward the stables, his instincts sharp. Marcus surged into the courtyard, adrenaline coursing through him as he began to close in on the fleeing figure, who seemed to dart away like a shadow.

The cloaked man froze, panic flashing across his face as Marcus intercepted him with skillful precision. With a swift motion, he lifted the hood with the tip of his sword, revealing the identity hidden beneath. The mix of surprise and joy that washed over Marcus was unmistakable.

“Cato?” he exclaimed, disbelief transforming into relief in an instant.

Cato, who had been tightly squeezing his eyes shut, suddenly heard his general’s voice. He opened his eyes and gasped, his gaze widening in surprise. “General!”

Octavius stepped toward them, and as the realization hit him that it was indeed Cato, he swiftly sheathed his sword, the metal sliding with a reassuring click. Cato looked at him, equally puzzled. “Octavius, sir!” He laughed. “You're alive too! You both alive!” He then lunged towards Marcus and hugged him. Marcus smiled as he patted him on the back. “We're alive, Cato, and we're back.”

“Thank the gods!”

“Cato, what were you doing here? Where is everyone?” Octavius asked.

“I—I came here to get some herbs, then I heard horses and hid. I thought it was the soldiers.”

“Did you say herbs?”

Cato lowered his head, his expression shifting to one of deep sorrow as if the weight of his worries hung heavily upon him.

“What happened, Cato? Aurelia, my children... Are they all right?” Marcus's voice trembled with anxiety as he searched Cato’s eyes for answers.

Cato glanced towards the road. “I'll tell you everything, but... Come with me now; it's not safe here anymore, but everyone is all right, hiding in the place we agreed on before.”

“Let’s head there, Octavius,” Marcus urged, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. He turned to Cato. "But have you come all this way on foot? What of the horse?"

“I’ve hidden it out of sight, sir,” Cato replied, a hint of anxiety in his tone. “Tied it in the bushes.”

“Then come with me,” Marcus instructed, leaping onto his horse with practiced ease before reaching out to help Cato mount. Together, they rode into the dappled shade of the forest, the air rich with the scent of damp earth and the rustle of leaves. As they approached the location Cato had mentioned, Marcus felt a growing sense of unease; this was not the place they had discussed. Instead, they had arrived at an old villa nestled among the trees, its weathered stone walls barely visible through the ivy that clung to them like a shroud. The villa, belonging to his cousin Agrippa, loomed quietly by the river—a ghost of its former grandeur, now vacant since Agrippa was away commanding the northern legions.

This villa served as a contingency plan - a refuge for the most dire of circumstances, especially if Geta were to be deposed and Marcus did not return. Marcus' real plan, however, was to go elsewhere, as it was the safest option away from Rome.

"Why have you brought us here?" Marcus asked, dismounting and surveying their surroundings. "Or?"

“Sir, the soldiers and General Varus intercepted the carriage...” Cato hesitated, his voice faltering. “We had no other choice…”

As soon as Cato stepped into the courtyard, Felix and Lucius switched into action and drew their swords. They exchanged glances and signaled to each other. The struggle for survival and the mission to protect the general's family had quickly forged a bond between them. These two men, once soldiers on opposing fronts, were now united against a common enemy.

When they saw Cato, both breathed a sigh of relief.

“Cato, what took you so long—”

Their words froze in their throats as they noticed two men following him. Felix's eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he recognized Marcus and Octavian. Lucius stared at them in astonishment.

“G-General...” Felix managed to stammer, a mix of disbelief and joy flooding his chest. “General!” he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Octavius!” he called out, his voice cracking with exuberance.

Two more soldiers approached, equally surprised to see Marcus.

“General!” one of them called out.

“It's really him!” another exclaimed.

One of those soldiers was Aris, who approached Felix with his mouth agape. “Is it really him?” he asked.

“Unless the god Morpheus has put us in a dream...” Felix muttered.

Cato chuckled at this. Lucius rolled his eyes, while Octavius and Marcus exchanged glances.

“Should we poke him?” Aris asked, still in disbelief. Felix poked Aris's shoulder hard.

"Ah! Not me, you fool!" Aris snapped, pointing at Marcus.

When Felix reached out to poke Marcus in the shoulder, Marcus caught his hand and playfully slapped him in the face. "What kind of bad manners is that?" he asked with mock annoyance.

"Look at these dummies, Acacius," Octavius chuckled, Marcus grinning.

Felix and Aris exchanged embarrassed laughter, filled with relief and joy. “I’d recognize that commanding voice anywhere! It’s really them!”

“They're not dead! They're alive!” the group erupted in cheers, their voices echoing together.

Suddenly, a wave of joy swept through them. Felix and Aris hugged Marcus tightly as Lucius sheathed his sword. Marcus, a little shaken by their enthusiastic embrace and moaning a little, still, couldn’t help but laugh as well. Octavius, aware of the wounds on Marcus’s chest and hand, felt a surge of concern. "Stop it, you fools; you’ll make our General regret being alive!" he chastised.

Felix wiped away his tears as he stepped back to look at his face once more. "General, sir, you are alive! You have returned."

Marcus gently touched his shoulder. "Indeed, Felix. I am alive, brother."

"Thank the gods," Aris said, also wiping away his tears.

They touched each other's shoulders and exchanged joyful glances. Lucius stood a little behind, watching the reunion unfold with a smile. After a breath, Marcus turned his gaze toward him and nodded.

"Lucius."

"Acacius," he greeted in return.

Marcus's heart raced as the sound of a baby’s cry pierced the air. He instinctively glanced over Lucius's shoulder and his breath caught at the sight of Tullia and Norell approaching, their faces painted with shock.

“Master!” Tullia exclaimed, her arms wide open and walked towards him. her hands gently resting on his shoulders. “Thank Jupiter! Thank all the gods, you're alive, you've returned!”

“I have, Tullia,” Marcus replied, a broad smile spreading across his face that lit up his weary eyes. He turned to Norell, who cradled her little girl with great tenderness. With a gentle touch, he took the baby into his arms. Norell’s joy was silent, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she offered him a smile that spoke volumes.

As Marcus breathed in the sweet, familiar scent of his child, he bent down to kiss the top of her head, a wave of longing washing over him. He missed her more than words could express.

Turning to Tullia, he asked, “Where are Marcius and Aurelia?”

Tullia’s brow furrowed as she bowed her head, tears beginning to cascade down her cheeks. Marcus quickly returned the baby to Norell’s arms as he saw Lucius and Cato rush into a room.

Hoping to find his answer there, Marcus followed them into a small, dimly lit room, his heart sinking at the sight before him. Marcius lay on a mattress, his small body still and wrapped in bandages. Lucius hurriedly sifted through the herbs and vials Cato had brought, sniffing them with urgency, trying to decipher their purpose, while Marcus approached the bed with a growing sense of dread.

“What happened to him?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

A heavy silence enveloped the room as everyone exchanged looks, each one reflecting their sorrow and concern, but no one found the courage to speak an answer.

In the corner, Decima and Octavius held each other tightly. But Octavius's brow furrowed deeply when he noticed the bandage wrapped around Decima’s upper arm.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked.

Decima was unable to respond; her only answer was a tight embrace, tears flowing freely as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"As we headed towards the location we had discussed, we were suddenly caught off guard by an ambush, sir," Felix said, his voice trembling. "Varus and his men pursued us, and they outnumbered us. Please forgive me." He bowed his head in shame, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his failure.

Marcus gazed at his son, the rising tide of tears shimmering in his eyes like fragile glass.

"An arrow struck him in the upper chest," Lucius said, his hands steady as he poured a healing mixture onto a cloth, the scent of herbs filling the room.

Marcus was frozen in disbelief. He sank to his knees, his lips pressing against his little boy's forehead, warm tears streaming down his cheeks as he gently stroked the boy's hair. "Did you say an arrow?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, the arrow struck Decima’s arm before hitting Marcius. If her arm hadn’t slowed its deadly speed…" Lucius's voice trailed off, and a heavy silence enveloped the room, each person acutely aware of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

Marcus turned to Decima, taking in her pale face, then back to his son. Lucius worked meticulously, applying a herbal ointment to the wound, the boy's small form trembling slightly with each touch. "Fortunately, the arrowhead didn’t penetrate deeply; he’s still alive," Lucius continued. "It's a miracle for such a small child to survive such an injury - what I'm witnessing is beyond anything I've ever seen in my life. He has beaten death, just like his father, I believe." He gave Marcus a reassuring smile.

Wiping away his tears, Marcus managed a weak smile in return. "Please, do your utmost. Save my son."

"I’m doing everything I can; don’t worry."

"I'm grateful to you, Lucius."

Then Marcus realized that something was missing. “Aurelia must be devastated. Where is she?” he asked.

Everyone lowered their heads. It was a difficult question to answer, and no one had the courage to say that to Marcus.

However, Marcus's patience had run out. He looked at Felix sharply as he approached him. “Forgive me, sir,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I could not protect her.” He bowed his head, unable to meet Marcus's gaze.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I could not protect her.” He bowed his head, unable to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean by that? Did she...” Marcus whispered, feeling his heart shatter into pieces. When he looked around, everyone else averted their eyes.

“They took her, sir,” Cato explained. “They hunted us down and ambushed us. They were going to kill us all, but luckily Aris and the others arrived just in time.”

“Varus had already left with Lady Aurelia when Aris showed up. They probably think we've either died or escaped,” he continued.

“We had to come here and hide in case they came looking for us. Besides, Marcius...” Cato hesitated, realizing Marcus’s growing anger.

“Varus, you filthy dog!” Marcus growled, clenching his fists.

“We couldn’t protect Emperor Geta either,” Aris added. “I couldn’t go to help Darius; there were too many of them. Empress Nerissa, Varus, and Elagabalus must have planned this together, but we don’t know much yet.”

"We must save the Lady Aurelia," Octavius said, looking directly at Marcus. "They may also kill her."

Lucius stood up and faced Marcus. “I don’t think they intend to kill her. If that were their aim, they would have done it during the ambush. They were talking about arresting her.”

Marcus turned his back to them, trembling with rage, making a fist to pound it against the stone wall as the weight of the situation consumed him. Ignoring the blood oozing from his hand.

“I shall rip his lungs out.” He made a promise to himself, gritting his teeth in anger.

You jolted awake, a wave of anguish crashing over you, weaving through both body and soul. The familiar embrace of pain gripped you once again, yet this time felt like a tempest brewing beneath your chin, a painful reminder of yesterday's chaos and the hard knock of a masculine hand against your face. But that was nothing compared to the ache simmering deep within your heart, a gaping wound that throbbed with every beat. Memories surfaced, sharp and intense, and your throat constricted as you struggled to breathe. The image of the arrow striking Marcius' body wouldn't go away, haunting you relentlessly. Suddenly, you gasped for breath as the pain intensified. This pain felt very different from what you felt for Geta and Marcus. You were surprised that you could endure so much suffering, and you truly wondered how you were still alive. A twinge of guilt washed over you when you realized you were angry with the gods for the unbearable tragedies that had befallen you. It was all simply too much—excruciating and overwhelming. Driven by a survival instinct, you felt compelled to find a way to endure this pain, ease it. These feelings ultimately led you to an emotion as powerful as the pain itself: a desire for vengeance.

You slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was a small window with iron bars set high in a stone wall. Since you were lying against the wall, the sunlight that filtered in didn't reach you. As you began to hear the sounds around you—the clanging of metal as soldiers marched and muttered—you turned your head. You spotted two guards standing with their backs turned behind the iron bars. The cell was larger than the one Macrinus had imprisoned you in before; it contained a mattress, a table, and even food on the table. This must be one of the special cells for an imperial member. That meant you had been brought to Palatine Hill. You pushed back the disheveled hair from your face, which smelled of blood and sweat, and sat up.  Your clothes were in a terrible state, shabby, worn, just like your heart. Geta's blood, still present on you, had a dark red tinge, dried on your light blue stola. Your sobs and cries returned, your heart breaking repeatedly as you thought of Marcus, Geta, and your son Marcius, leaving you feeling as though you were on the verge of losing your grip.

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps broke the silence, sending a rush of anger through your veins as you heard his voice.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Varus said, a sinister grin stretching across his face. He loomed in front of the cold iron bars, his gaze piercing through, studying you with an unsettling intensity.

You clenched the fabric of your dress tightly, the soft texture pressing against your skin, attempting to offer solace. Yet, your body vibrated with an unmistakable fury. Every muscle pulsed with a powerful combination of fear and rage, igniting an intense fire within you that demanded to be unleashed.

"You filthy bastard!" you shouted, lunging at him.

He remained completely still because iron bars stood between him and you, acting as friends to him and enemies to you.

"I'll kill you!" you yelled, gripping the bars. Your pain outweighed your anger. "What did you want from him, a little child? How could you?" Your sobs and cries grew louder.

"Behave yourself, Lady Aurelia," Varus growled threateningly.

"If I don't, what will you do? Will you also murder me? What difference would it make if you killed me as well? You've already killed my son."

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the moment you attempted to kill me, my lady, but if you ever do anything stupid like that again, I'll make sure you meet your son in Elysium."

"Filthy dog!" You shouted. "I swear your death will be by my hand, I swear it!"

Varus angrily struck the iron bars with his hand. "Enough! Stop it!"

"What did you want from him? Why did you—?” You murmured, your knees gave way, and you collapsed, your sobs echoing in the stone cell. It was a plea that would make anyone with a conscience shudder, but Varus was not a man of conscience.

"If you promise to behave, I will let you out of the cell. His Majesty wants to see you," he said, looking at you coldly.

Out of the cell... Perhaps you could have the chance to kill him.

"My Lady, I don't have all day to wait for your answer." He said mockingly.

What an arsehole.

You focused your attention on the gleaming dagger, the pugio, resting at the waist of one of the guards. A surge of determination washed over you as you began to formulate your plan. With a slow nod, you met Varus’s gaze, and his grin widened. “Good. Open the cell,” he commanded.

As the guard unlocked the cell door, you rose to your feet, your heart racing. Your eyes were locked on the pugio, its hilt inviting and within reach. As you stepped out of the cell, a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You darted past the guard, swiftly lunging for the handle of the dagger at his side, fingers brushing against the cool metal. In an exhilarating instant, you managed to unhook it. But before you could pivot towards Varus, his grip clamped down on your arm, yanking you back.

With a swift motion, he disarmed you, taking the pugio and slamming you against the stone wall. The impact jolted through your body like a thunderclap, a sharp groan escaping your lips as pain radiated from your back, merging humiliation with fury.

"Did your husband teach you to do this, my lady?" You swallowed as he ran the sharp surface of the pugio against your neck. "But he’s gone now, how sad."

Ignoring his amusement, you narrowed your eyes at him. "I may have failed now, but you can be sure that one day I will stick a knife down your stinking throat."

Laughing wickedly, he leaned in, his breath grazing your earlobe, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. "If you weren't such a beautiful and distinguished woman, I would have killed you already."

He returned the pugio to the guard and grabbed your arm, pulling it roughly as he walked. "Enough of this nonsense. “Move.”

As Varus led you from the cell into the Domus Severiana, you surveyed your surroundings, feeling a deep sense of despair. Memories of Geta and Marcus flooded your mind, while the rich, intricate details of the architecture seemed to taunt you. Those cherished images were overshadowed by visions of others—individuals who had proved themselves unworthy of the titles they held. The warmth of this place, which once felt like home, now felt cold and invasive; its calm atmosphere was dimmed by the weight of your sorrow.

When the doors of the Great Hall opened, you stepped inside to face one of the most upsetting sights imaginable. In the same hall where Geta had once greeted you with a warm smile, Elagabalus now occupied Geta's imperial throne, smiling ominously at you. You couldn't decide whether this vision was painful or simply annoying, but it was evident that you were hurt once again. Elagabalus was slightly younger than Geta and a bit taller than Caracalla, but he was clearly more twisted. He pursed his lips as he scrutinized you from head to toe, yet made no effort to rise. Even Caracalla would have stood upon seeing you, but Elagabalus remained smug and unyielding.

"Oh, our beautiful Princess Aurelia!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, echoing through the hall. "Even in your wretched state, you radiate a certain brilliance; it’s simply extraordinary." His words felt like daggers, cutting deeper as he reveled in your predicament.

Your body moved involuntarily toward him, the urge to lunge and grab him by the throat overwhelming you. However, Varus tightened his grip, indifferent to the pain it caused you. Anyways, no matter what he did, you knew he couldn't hurt you anymore, not after what he did.

"I must say that I am truly sorry for all of this, my dear," he continued. "If only your late husband, Acacius, had responded differently to the message I sent him and followed my request, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation. Just look at you; that’s all—"

"Don't you dare speak his name!" you snarled, fierce anger boiling within you as your voice broke through the tension.

"Hmm, I understand that emotions are running high, and you're feeling hurt and frustrated," he replied with an air of condescension, "But I must insist that you do not interrupt me again.”

You gave him a stern look. "Or what? What are you going to do? Torture me? Kill me? Then do it."

He shook his head repeatedly. "No, no, no. You are not an ordinary woman. The citizens of Rome are already experiencing..." he thought of the right words. "...considerable unrest," pursed his lips. "I do not wish to further provoke their discontent. They hold you in high regard. Therefore, I will determine your fate after the funeral.”

"Funeral," you whispered.

“I am not so devoid of compassion as to deny my cousin a proper funeral,” he responded smugly. “That is the purpose of my summons. If you wish to pay your respects, he is located in the other hall; the guards will take you there. Tomorrow, in a grand ceremony, the people of Rome will bid him farewell, and I will officially declare myself emperor.” His tone conveyed a sense of excitement.

“You monster! Traitor! It’s all your fault!” You shouted as you lunged at him. A familiar face stopped you this time. You were so distraught that you didn’t realize Darius was there until he grasped your arm.

“Darius, let me go! I'll kill him!”

Elagabalus tilted his head to the side, his expression a blend of astonishment and amusement. “Well, what General Varus said about you was true, I see,” he remarked, his voice dripping with playful curiosity.

Varus smirked. "I can tell she's got a fighting spirit, your highness."

Elagabalus erupted into laughter, a sound that rang with a mocking cadence, inciting a flame of anger within you.

“My lady, please calm yourself,” Darius urged, his voice gentle yet firm.

You shoved his hands away defensively, the frustration boiling over. “Are you on his side too? My brother Geta cared for you!”

“I’m only doing my duty, my lady,” he replied. “Serving the emperor is my only obligation.” As he spoke, a suggestive glint flickered in his eyes, leaving you uncertain of his intentions.

"I liked you, Commander Darius. You deserve your title," Elagabalus said with a grin. Darius bowed respectfully in response.

As you observed him, you weren't completely sure, but it seemed like Darius was putting on an act. Nevertheless, you felt anger towards him for not being able to protect Geta.

Suddenly, the heavy door swung open, and the guards stormed in, dragging Nerissa by the arm. She struggled against their grip, defiance etched across her face, just as you had.

“Oh, there’s Empress Nerissa. Come closer, dear,” he gestured to her, a wicked glint in his eyes. It was difficult to discern his thoughts.

“Elagabalus! You bastard! You promised I would return to Athens, my home!” she shouted, her voice filled with indignation.

“Oh, about that... Well, circumstances have forced me to change my mind,” he replied, standing up and adjusting his ornate toga. It was hard to look at him in that attire; he reminded you of Geta. “When the Athenians decided to side with Geta and betray me, I had to revise my plans. I hope you understand. After all, it was a matter of mutual interest,” he said with a sneer.

“What about my son? Why did you take him from me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Did you really think I would let you flee with a Roman prince, the heir to the throne? Are you truly that foolish?”

Nerissa's eyes reflected obvious disappointment. He had a point. Had she truly betrayed Geta for a foolish plan? It was frustrating that she trusted Elagabalus more easily than Geta. A surge of anger coursed through you again, as if you could reach out and strangle Nerissa with your bare hands, but worry for your nephew, Publius, held you back.

“If a hair on his head has been harmed, I will ruin you!” You yelled at him.“

"I am certain of that, my lady." He smirked. "Besides, I don't intend to hurt him," he then stood up, continued. "The death of his father and another prince have already angered the people enough; I don't want to give them another reason to revolt. I need the people of Rome to love me and respect me."

“They will never love you! You murdered their emperor and imprisoned his son, his heir! They will hate you!” Nerissa shouted angrily.

“I murdered him?" He said raising his eyebrows, "I didn't do anything, remember? It was you,” he grinned cruelly. "They have always resented you for being Greek, and this incident will only amplify their desire to place blame. They’ve been waiting for a reason, and you’ve just handed it to them.”

“I'll kill you!” She shrieked, jumping forward to him. One of the guards grabbed her by the arm.

“Lock her up, she is to be executed with the other Greeks.”

“No!”

You wanted to smile cruelly at Nerissa's shouts of protest, but you couldn’t. The thought of Publius being completely orphaned overshadowed everything else. Nerissa's desire for revenge led to a huge mistake, which she likely regrets; ultimately, she destroyed her life, her son’s life, and yours.

Elagabalus approached you, you had seen the pure evil in his eyes before, in Caracalla's eyes.

"As for you..."

"Do you intend to execute me as well?"

He chuckled, a mix of hysteria and amusement. "Certainly not. Why would I take such a drastic step? I told you, the people hold you in high regard, much like their disdain for Nerissa. I see a valuable opportunity here and would prefer to have you on my side."

Though seething with anger, you couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. “That will never happen.”

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in implication. “What about your nephew Publius? You wouldn’t want to lose him too, would you?”

Understanding his implication, you felt too trapped to respond, and the pain returned as tears streamed down your face. He continued.

“Actually, I was planning to get rid of him along with his mother, but when Varus made a mistake and got your son killed, I realized that I have no other choice left. It was the only thing that could persuade you to cooperate. You are a smart woman; I am certain that you understand exactly what I mean."

Your silence gave him confidence; he sensed your defeat, and a satisfied smile spread across his face as he approached you.

"What kind of monster are you to take my son's life, call it a mistake, and threaten me with my nephew?" You muttered, lacking the strength to bark or fight any longer.

“Alright, enough talk,” he said, looking at the guards. “Take her. Have her bathed and changed. Assign two men to guard her. We’ll speak again after the funeral, princess. Remember, your nephew’s life is in your hands, so I suggest you behave yourself.”

Ignoring his disturbing smile, you glanced at Darius as Varus pulled you out of the hall. He looked sad when he met your eyes, but you were too angry with him to care.

Geta's lifeless body lay on a marble slab in the center of the great hall, covered with a white cloth embroidered with gold. It was difficult to look at him; his skin was so pale, and his lips so blue, that you had to grip the edge of the marble slab for support. The lamentations of the vestal priestesses rose around you as you placed coins to pay Charon on Geta's eyelids. Your fingers trembled as you touched his golden hair. Tears streamed down your face, wetting his colorless, lifeless skin as you leaned down to kiss his forehead. You tried to ignore the members of the Senate gathered around you, along with their wives and the murmurs of the Patricians. You could not bear to hear any words of consolation; you were too tired to endure it any longer.

You felt exhausted to attend the solemn funeral ceremony, yet Elagabalus dragged you with him. Varus’ men shadowed you like ominous specters, their presence a constant reminder of your captivity. It was infuriating; you felt as though you were a ghost, wandering through a fog of despair, a living dead among the mourning throng.

Desperation clawed at your chest as your eyes scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone familiar—perhaps Lucius, Cato, or Felix. You yearned for a sign, a whisper of news that Marcius was alive, but all you found were stranger faces. It felt like everyone had turned their backs on you, leaving you in this bleak nightmare of solitude.

As you stood before the blazing pyre, the flames licking greedily at Geta's lifeless form, sorrow overwhelmed you. The crackling fire echoed the sound of your heart breaking. Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, as Geta’s final words reverberated in your mind: “In his absence, you will be under my protection.”

You didn't know when this nightmare would end, you just wanted to beg the gods to take your life, but not without revenge. You didn't know when or how, but you would take your revenge, it was the only thing that kept you strong. Varus and Elagabalus may have seen it as surrender, but they were unaware that you were just waiting for the right moment.

Far away in the crowd, hidden from view, Marcus was present. Cloaked in black, he lurked in the shadows, but he was there. His heart surged with life once he caught sight of you in the distance. He yearned to push through the masses and reach you, ready to slaıghter anyone who dare to stand in his way. However, he knew he couldn't do that—not yet. All he could do was watch you helplessly from afar. Patience had never been so difficult for him, and of all the moments of helplessness he had endured, this was the most excruciating.

“Sir, what do we do?” Octavius asked.

“I am the only one among us whose face less recognizable to them. I will approach and retrieve him,” Lucius said.

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Be careful.”

As Lucius moved carefully through the crowd, he, like Marcus, couldn’t help but glance in your direction, worried about you. But he had to find Darius. When you briefly looked over, you recognized Lucius’s face, and your heart began to race. You kept your excitement in check, not wanting Varus to become suspicious; he had seen him before.

Lucius... If he was alive, did that mean the others were too? You were desperate to find out, but all you could do was stand there, and you hated it.

Darius quickly identified Lucius and grasped the meaning behind his signal. He discreetly turned to assess the positions of Varus and Elagabalus, taking the opportunity to position one of his most trusted men in his place. He then began to follow Lucius at a safe distance, relieved to see that Varus was momentarily preoccupied.

Anxiety coiled in your stomach as you imagined the exchange between Darius and Lucius. Would he intend to send you a message? "Marcius, please let him be alive," you prayed to the gods, your heart swelling with a glimmer of hope. It felt almost reassuring to see Lucius again, especially when you felt so alone. At least Lucius was alive; at least you hadn't lost him yet.

While you were waiting for Darius to return, Elagabalus was eager to leave and signaled to the guards, who parted to help him through. The crowd was in a dismal mood—filled with mourning, anger, and sadness—and they definitely weren't ready to accept Elagabalus as emperor. However, you could tell they had a great respect for you. You were certain that he would use that respect to manipulate you into following him from now on, threatening you with Publius if you refused. But you didn't want to leave; you just wanted to see Lucius one more time and find out what he had told Darius. Unfortunately, you now found yourself as Elagabalus' puppet; he wanted you to escort him to Palatine Hill, and you had no choice but to obey.

The next day, as you sat helplessly in your cell, anxiously awaiting news of Lucius and your children, you heard footsteps approaching. You stood up immediately, hoping it could be Darius. One of the guards ordered others  to open the cell door and looked at you with a firm expression.

"My lady, come with me," he said, gently gesturing for you to follow.

You complied and walked in the direction he indicated. Together, you stepped out into the courtyard. As you walked alongside the guard toward the great hall, disappointment settled in your stomach like a stone. You did not wish to see Elagabalus—not now, not ever. Inside the hall, Darius stood with an empty expression that offered no comfort.

"Aurelia! Come, I have good news for you," Elagabalus exclaimed excitedly.

But as you locked eyes with Varus standing ominously beside him, a foreboding sense of dread washed over you. What he deemed "good news" felt like a cruel jest.

"I will be crowned today," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hall, "and I have decided to hold a public banquet in the Roman Forum tomorrow to celebrate."

You rolled your eyes. As if you gave a damn. I hope people of Rome stab you to death at that banquet, you thought.

“It's not wise to keep mourning so short, though nothing about you is wise,” you muttered.

“Oh, I like your frankness, it's much better than cowardly lying.” He gestured for you to come closer.

Reluctantly, you obeyed.

“I want you with me at the banquette.”

“That’s hardly surprising. Is that what you consider good news?” you replied, skepticism dripping from your tone.

"Right, the good news is that I can't keep you in a cell any longer, so I've decided that you will stay in the Domus Tiberiana. Even better, your nephew Publius will be there with you. See? I'm not that cruel."

His lighthearted remarks left you feeling unsettled, though the prospect of having Publius by your side provided some relief.

“What? Aren’t you going to express your gratitude? How rude of you,” he taunted.

Was he truly joking?

"I'm sure you placed lots of guards in there. It sounds like a bigger cell to me," you remarked, rolling your eyes.

"For your protection and little Publius, dear," he replied with a grin.

"I think you need more protection," you hinted. "Especially from me."

He chuckled and glanced at Varus. "What a woman! She never gives up, does she?"

"She certainly doesn't," Varus said, smiling at you.

You averted your gaze from both of them.

"What do you say we share our decision with her?"

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Varus replied, his voice tinged with excitement.

“Varus has done so much for me; I owe him my very presence here. Therefore, I wish to reward him with something worthy.”

"I don’t care what kind of reward he receives!" you shouted, your frustration boiling over.

He crossed his arms, a glint of foreboding hidden behind his smile. "You should, because you are the reward."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Excuse me?"

"General Varus is an honorable man who deserves respect. He merits a good marriage, and since you are a widow, you are his best potential match."

You shook your head fervently, disbelief etched on your face. "Never…’" you mumbled, the mere thought twisting your stomach into knots. "I would never marry him! Never!"

Elagabalus frowned, his expression suddenly serious. "I believe you misunderstand me, Aurelia. I'm not seeking your opinion."

Varus cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. "This marriage would be the greatest honor I could ever receive, Your Majesty. I am truly grateful."

"Good, then let the preparations begin,’" Elagabalus declared, an air of finality tinging his words.

It was all too much. You wanted to scream, to fight against the tide of fate that threatened to engulf you, but you felt paralyzed, trembling with fear and anger. The worst torment imaginable seemed to come for you at every turn, leaving you struggling to find the strength to continue living in such a harrowing reality.

“How is his condition?” Marcus asked, anxiety tightening his voice. Marcius lay still, his eyes closed and face pale, every shallow breath causing his small chest to rise and fall.

“He’s better,” Lucius replied. “He’s fighting with everything he has, I assure you.” He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the swelling around the injury. “Infection is starting to build up, though. I need to prepare some more ointment.”

“When will he open his eyes?” Marcus asked, his voice shaking.

He sighed, “We’ll have to wait a bit longer for that. Rest assured, I’m doing everything I can.”

“I can't thank you enough, Lucius. You’re my brother now,” Marcus said sincerely.

Lucius nodded and smiled at him before leaving the room.

After he left, Marcus sat beside his little boy, thinking of you as he stroked his head. "My son, are you waiting for your mother to open her eyes? I promise I will bring her back," he said. He bent down to kiss the top of his son's head.

As he sat there, his gaze landed on a familiar dress among the items brought from the villa. He picked it up, the fabric delicate in his fingers, and brought it to his nose. The scent—your scent—enveloped him like a cherished memory. He returned to the bed, sinking into the fabric's embrace as he buried his nose in it once more.

"Aurelia, my beloved wife, my radiant sun. How can I find rest in this dark abyss while you are imprisoned in their merciless grasp? How can I remain still, waiting patiently, when I know you are alone in anguish, tears brimming in your eyes? Every moment without you feels like an endless dungeon, suffocating and cold," he said, his voice choked as he wiped the warm tears cascading down his cheeks.

His gaze shifted to Marcius, who murmuring softly in his dreams. “My son, you were born into a world besieged by ruthless tyrants and treacherous souls. They will always covet what you possess and conspire to bring you harm simply because of who you are destined to be. But you must stand resolute; you must never yield to their demands. You will emerge as a valiant and honorable warrior, just like me, and you will place the traitors where they belong—defeated and discredited. An honorable warrior does not take what is not rightfully theirs and does not fall without a fierce struggle.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Marcus got up to open it. It was Cato. "Sir, Commander Darius is here."

"Let's go," he said, closing the door quietly behind him as he left the room. He hoped Darius had news of you.

Everyone had gathered in the courtyard, waiting for Marcus to arrive. When Darius saw Marcus, he pushed back his hood and saluted him. “General.”

“Darius, have you spoken to Lady Aurelia?” Marcus asked, his tone filled with hope.

Darius shook his head. “Unfortunately, sir, I didn’t have a chance." He exhaled nervously. "Lady Aurelia is no longer being held in the cell.”

Marcus frowned. “How so? Where is she?”

“Elagabalus had her sent to the Domus Tiberiana. He also had Publius sent with her, claiming he was not that cruel when he said that, that bastard,” Darius growled.

“At least she won't be stuck in a cell; she'll be more comfortable in the palace,” Marcus muttered, the pain evident in his voice when he says that.

“Perhaps, sir, but he has clearly lost his sanity. Elagabalus is preparing to negotiate a deal with the Carthaginians. He asserts that it is a promise made in exchange for the throne.”

“What specific terms does this deal involve?”

“He intends to relinquish the southern territories to the Carthaginians, which includes the significant cities of Alexandria and Sicily,” he explained.

“He’s truly gone mad!” Octavius bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder in the dimly lit chamber. “We can’t let this happen; we must take action immediately. Sir?”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Marcus, awaiting his response.

"Of course we won't let him, we'll bury him in that throne! We need to be clever about this. Fortunately, he still has Darius by his side, and we should use that to our advantage to devise a smart plan. We will involve the senators who remain loyal to Geta. But until then, we must all conceal the fact that we are alive. This is crucial. Do you all understand?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Octavius looked uneasy. “Sir, I can accept our situation, but it pains me that all of Rome believes you are dead. It's so unfair.”

“We must be patient, Octavius,” Marcus said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “These are just a few of the obstacles we face, but they will not stop us.”

Darius exhaled. "Acacius, your death is officially recorded, and the law is unforgiving in this matter."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I apologize for saying this, but, according to law, Lady Aurelia is now a widow, and—"

"And? Darius, what are you saying?" Marcus asked.

Taking another deep breath, Darius said while locking his eyes on Marcus', "Elagabalus is setting a marriage arrangement between Lady Aurelia and Varus."

A palpable silence descended upon the room as everyone looked at Marcus wide-eyed.

In a sudden burst of anger, Marcus grabbed Darius by the collar and shouted, "What did you just say? Tell me this isn't true!"

Darius lowered his head and replied, "I'm sorry, Acacius, but I heard it with my own ears. He's already ordered preparations to begin."

"What nonsense!" Aris shouted.

"We must kill him at once!" Felix added.

"We can't allow it!" Cato protested.

"Acacius, let’s move and take him down right now," Octavius said, then he turned Darius. "Darius, gather all the praetorians and together we will kill this cunt tonight!"

Darius shook his head. “I wish I could, but Varus commands too many, having dismissed and suspended several of my men. They are closely observing my every move, and the risk is too great. If we were to fail, it could endanger Lady Aurelia or Publius. And, I am well aware that the Domus Tiberiana is filled with soldiers whom he chose specifically."

Marcus stood in the dim glow of flickering torches, his heart racing as silence surrounded him like a heavy shroud. He had to act, he had to do something. "I have to see her," he burst out, desperation lacing his voice.

"They've already taken her to the Domus Tiberiana," Darius cautioned.. "You can't go in there. If they recognize you..."

"She has been through worse than any of us! It’s a miracle she’s still holding on. She needs to know I’m alive — she needs to know her son Marcius is alive. I can’t bear the thought of her all alone there." His voice grew softer, filled with a deep yearning. "I just need to see her, even if only for a moment."

Darius ran a hand through his hair, contemplating. "Well, we can’t enter through the main gate, but perhaps there’s a way through the river. You know, Emperor Geta once considered imprisoning his mother, Julia Domna, there before sending her into exile." He paused, his eyes brightening with the spark of an idea. "I ordered my men to scout potential escape routes, and there’s one Varus's men are completely unaware of. It leads from the river straight to the west courtyard and then to the baths — it’s a drainage route."

"That’s brilliant!" Marcus said. "If I can navigate to the baths, I might be able to slip past the soldiers guarding the inside."

"We’ll help you," Octavius insisted, his face set with determination.

"No, we can’t draw attention. I have to go alone," Marcus protested. "I don’t intend to spill any blood; I just need to see Aurelia."

Octavius shook his head fiercely. "I refuse to send you in there alone."

"It's a risk we can't take, Octavius."

Darius glanced at him. "It certainly is, but Acacius, I’m curious."

"About what?"

"Are you as skilled at climbing as you are at fighting?"

"You doubt my abilities?" Marcus teased.

"Consider that I never asked," Darius smirked.

"What about the soldiers in the courtyard and around garden sir?" Cato inquired.

"I can handle that," Lucius chimed in, approaching them with a smug smile.

"Without detected? How?" Marcus asked, his curiosity piqued. "

"I'll explain if you allow me to accompany you," Lucius replied with a sly smile. "Besides, I'm much better at climbing than any of you.”

The Domus Tiberiana was a long-abandoned palace located in the northwestern corner of the Palatine Hill. Unlike the Domus Severiana, its entrance was not from the main road but rather further inland. It featured a large gate with iron bars, and one had to pass through an extensive garden to reach the courtyard. By the time you arrived, the slaves and guards meant to serve you were already present. When the soldiers brought you into this modest palace, especially in comparison to others, around noon, it felt as if you were entering into a cell again—only larger. The heavy thud of the door slamming shut made you feel like you were cut off from everything outside. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped like a tiger in a cage, just like one you’d seen in the dim underground passage of the Colosseum. It hit you that, much like that tiger, you were going to be used when the time was right. At least the tiger had it better, you thought; its death would be quick and decisive, and it might take a few of its enemies down with it.

But you?

You felt completely helpless against your foes, stuck with nothing but the weight of your situation. You had yet to avenge the loss of Marcus, your son, your little girl, and your brother Geta. They had all been taken from you one by one, and it felt as if you could barely breathe without them. Damn survival instinct, you thought. It wouldn't be long, though; you had to make sure Varus was dead before you could reunite them in the afterlife. Then it wouldn't be an issue to die.

That evening, as you looked out over the Tiber River from the balcony of what was supposed to be your new room, you realized how lonely you were. You could no longer trust the slaves who assisted you with changing and brought you food, nor could you rely on the guards in the courtyard and at the entrance. As you gazed at the hill ahead, thoughts of Marcus filled your mind. Just beyond that hill lay your villa and meadow, and you would have given anything to return to those days.

“If only I had stopped Marcus that day and somehow prevented him from leaving,” you sighed to yourself. Accepting the reality that he was no longer alive was unbearable; it felt as if it would swallow you whole, leaving nothing behind.

Publius' presence beside you provided a semblance of strength, much like the burning desire for vengeance within you. He was a perfect copy of his father, with the same eyes and hair, and that was all that was left of Geta. Looking at him, memories of Marcius flooded your mind. A part of you wanted to believe he was still alive, but your logic insisted he couldn't have survived the arrow.

And your little girl? You could barely bear to think of her; she was so tiny, the mere thought of anything happening to her made you shudder. Beneath all this pain, it felt as if the temple of Jupiter had collapsed, crushing you beneath its great marble pillars.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and one of the slaves entered with your permission. "My lady, General Varus is here," he said, then left the room.

General... you thought. There was only one general for you.

But this could be an opportunity. If you could be alone with him, maybe you had a chance. You desperately wished you had the knife Marcus gave you on your ankle right now. But it wasn't, and you had to deal with it in another way. Your gaze was fixed on the knife on the tray that the slaves had brought. It had been intended for cutting bread; it was small, but it would do. You picked it up and examined it. It wasn't as sharp as your knife, but if you could aim for the right spot, or stab with it... You recalled everything Marcus had taught you, trying to memorize each lesson. It was extremely difficult to plan this attack against a soldier, especially a commander. You had only one chance, and failure was not an option since you had already attempted to attack him twice before.

You tucked the knife between the fabric of your belt and checked it before leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you left to meet him.

"You can do this, you can do this," you murmured to yourself as you walked down the corridor to the courtyard. Varus stood in the corner, examining the bust of Emperor Nero. Your confidence grew when you saw he was unarmored, wearing his official toga in shades of purple and blue. He was actually quite vulnerable, as his back was turned. However, he quickly turned around when he heard your footsteps.

“Lady Aurelia,” he said.

You averted your gaze. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I realize you don't like me, but you must respect me.”

“Respect is earned. It’s not something you get from clothes or rank. And I promise you, you'll never earn my respect.”

He grinned as he approached you. “Is that so? I'm a determined man, Aurelia. I always get what I desire; you can see that from my current position.” He continued walking towards you, causing you to instinctively take a step back. “You were something I desired, too, and I’m about to have you. Perhaps I won’t earn your respect, but I will gain something else.”

You felt nauseous as he observed your body with a hungry, wolf-like stare. Instead of slapping him, you decided to provoke him; deliberately, you took another step backward. “What is it?” you asked, playing the fool.

He looked suspicious as he kept walking towards you, and it seemed like he was enjoying it. With nowhere else to go, you leaned against the wall, standing at attention with one hand on your belt as he took another step closer. “You and everything that belongs to you,” he said.

You were taken aback when he cupped your chin in his large hand firmly. His eyes were fixed on your lips, and you knew it was the perfect moment.

You drew the knife from your belt with your right hand, aimed it at his stomach and tried to stab him there. Though not as deep as you would have wished, the knife managed to pierce his abdomen and toga. Seizing the opportunity presented by his astonishment, you lunged at him again, this time aiming for his neck. You resisted with all your strength as he held you tightly by both arms, but eventually your smaller frame was no match for his strength, and you succumbed to the struggle. But not before you cut his bare arm deep enough to draw blood. Groaning in pain, he grabbed your hair and pulled viciously, then slammed you to the ground.

"You stubborn whore!" he shouted as he stared down at his bleeding wound in shock.

The look of bewilderment on his face made you laugh as you slowly pushed yourself up from the stone floor. He came up angrily, grabbing your hair. "I won't do anything to your face to make you appear ugly at the wedding, but I promise that once you become my wife, I will do things to you that will make you wish you had never been born!"

He shouted and shoved you. You fell to the ground once more, and as your cheek pressed against the cold stone floor, tears began to flow—not because you were hurt, but because you had missed your chance.

The slaves had heard the noises, and while Varus was leaving the palace, they came to you and helped lift you from the ground. You ordered them to leave you alone and not to enter the courtyard to disturb you again.

It was so close; you almost killed him, but the opportunity had slipped away. You picked up the knife from the floor and sat on the lectus. You could never marry him—no, you could never be someone else's wife, and you could never let him touch you. Instead, death was a better option. As you looked at the knife, you actually thought it might be a good thing to take your own life right there, right now. Then there would be no princess for Varus to wed, nor for Elagabalus to use her power for his benefit. Moreover, it was the only way to relieve all your pain, you knew it.

Marcus and Lucius were being overly cautious as they sneaked along the banks of the Tiber and into the underground corridors of the Domus Tiberiana. It was a short but troubling path. According to Darius' account, they first had to pass through Velabrum and climb the walls leading from the edge of the Magna Mater temple to the south garden of the palace. Lucius was just as good at climbing as he claimed to be, chuckling while Marcus panted a little.

“If I were your age, I’d climb faster than you, I promise.”

“Or, are you complaining about your age, General?”

“Never! I’m just saying the conditions aren’t equal.”

Lucius jumped into the garden, waiting for him. “Fair enough. Where to now?”

“To Domitian's ramp. That will take us directly to the inner courtyard.” Marcus gestured for Lucius to crouch. “There it is,” he said, pointing ahead.

“This looks like a ramp with a lot of turns, and I see some soldiers.”

“Praetorians,” Marcus hissed. “I count three. No one would dare sneak in here; most of them are guarding the entrance. If we can get past these two, the others will be easier to deal with. Remember, we can’t let them see us. Killing is not an option. Knocking them out is a last resort, though I’m not sure how you’re going to do that.”

“You don’t trust me, General? You’re hurting my feelings.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t trust you, I would have come alone.”

Lucius looked at him earnestly. “I’m here for her. I’ll give you all the time you need, but remember, you’re the one they think is dead. Don't expose yourself to anyone. I won’t let her get hurt again because of you.”

Marcus gave him a stern look. “I’m already here because I can’t bear to see her hurt anymore. So stop getting on my nerves and follow me.”

“After you,” Lucius growled.

They both tried to be very quiet as they climbed up the ramp. When the first guard turned his back, they hurried around the corner, passing him and the second guard. But when they reached the courtyard, they saw two guards standing side by side in a corner. To get behind them, they would have to go around the fountain, but that seemed too risky. Just then, one of the guards moved into the garden, giving them the opportunity to approach the other guard from behind.

It was impossible to reach the other courtyard without passing him, so they had to neutralise him. Lucius poured a small vial of herbal medicine onto a cloth and, reaching from behind, forced the guard to sniff it. The guard struggled, but the overpowering scent made him lose consciousness. They quickly hid him in a nearby bush.

"Impressive, what is this?" Marcus asked while looking around.

"Hyoscyamus niger," Lucius replied. "It has a knockout effect, and this is a concentrated essence I made. He'll come to his senses in the morning."

"Good. Her chambers should be located in the courtyard beyond."

"Very well, I'll wait here for your return."

Marcus nodded, but before he could take a step forward, Lucius called out to him, “Be careful.”

“You too,” Marcus replied.

Once he reached the courtyard, Marcus noticed that it was quiet; no one was around. He cursed under his breath when he spotted two guards near the entrance, close to the stairs leading to your chambers. Although they couldn't hear him from that distance, it was still too dangerous—he needed to find another route.

As he turned toward the courtyard, he caught sight of a woman with her back turned to him. The color of her hair, how it fell over her shoulder, and her posture made his heart skip a beat. It was definitely you.

He glanced around before taking a cautious step closer. The courtyard was deserted; not a slave or anyone else was in sight. The guards wouldn’t be here at this hour, and he wouldn’t have cared if they were. He longed to see your face, to touch your skin, to hear your voice—and now, here was his chance.

As you looked at the knife in your hand, the weight of guilt for what you were about to do filled your mind. “It's just a cut,” you reminded yourself. “You know where to cut; just do it.” Taking a deep breath, you pressed the knife just above the carotid artery. “If you're alive, forgive me, Marcus,” you thought, hearing light footsteps approaching from behind. You didn't turn around; you couldn't let anyone stop you now. Marcus hadn't seen the knife in your hand and was unaware of your intentions. He pushed back his hood and smiled as he took in your appearance from behind.

“My lady...”

This voice... That velvety, deep voice that your ears had longed to hear once more. The voice you never thought you would hear again. You were so surprised that, for a moment, you forgot you were holding a knife. Your hand began to tremble, and the sharp edge of the blade cut your skin, leaving a thin line. But you didn’t care; you didn’t even feel it. Your whole body was numbed by the desire to see the face of the voice’s owner.

When you stood up, turned around, and finally saw his face, your entire body began to shake as if you were about to have a stroke. You even forgot how to breathe. As you stared at him with your mouth agape, he stepped closer and looked at you with that wonderful smile. When he touched your face with his hands, tears began to flood your eyes, followed by uncontrollable sobs. Suddenly he realised the cut on your neck, and the knife in your hand. He immediately picked up the knife.

“Aurelia, what were you doing—”

The concern etched on his handsome face took your breath away. How stunningly beautiful he looked…

“Marcus,” you whispered, still in disbelief at his presence. “Is this really you? Am I dead? Or have you resurrected?”

His warm brown eyes sparkled as they locked onto yours, radiating a sense of comfort and love. “No, my love. You are not dead, and I am not resurrected. I have navigated and dismantled all the enemy's traps and came back to you.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you leaped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. As he held you close, the rhythm of his heartbeat felt like a soothing lullaby, and he tenderly stroked your hair, bringing a few strands to his nose to inhale your familiar, heavenly scent. In that moment, his heart soared, relieved to be in this blissful haven once again. It felt so divine to be enveloped by his strong arms that you shut your eyes tight, praying this wasn’t just a dream.

“You never left, anyway,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “You’ve always been with me. Everywhere I turned, there you were. If my soul hasn’t departed from my body, it’s because I hold onto the belief that you are alive, Marcus.”

He ran his lips through your hair and kissed your forehead. "How could I ever leave you and our children? I would rise again, even if I died, just to look into your beautiful eyes one more time and hear your sweet voice again."

His words sent a delicate ache through your heart at the mention of “our children.” As tears streamed down your cheeks, he took your hands—still encircling his neck—and kissed them with an air of reverence. Then, he tenderly examined the cut on your neck, his gaze filled with concern.

“My beautiful princess,” he said softly, “I see the pain you’ve endured and the wounds in your heart. I have come to cleanse you of all your suffering and heal your wounds.” He then kissed your lips with deep longing.

As you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, your heart ached with the weight of unspoken fears. “Marcus, our son... our daughter... I couldn't protect them,” you confessed, your gaze drooping as despair clouded your vision. But to your astonishment, you watched as a warm smile spread across his lips. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours once more, tenderly, almost reverently. “They’re alive, my love,” he reassured you.

He pressed another kiss to your lips, savoring the moment, realizing just how deeply he had missed the look of sweet surprise on your face, every subtle gesture, every intricate detail of your being.

“Is that true?” you asked, hope creeping into your voice.

“It’s true, my love. Believe me, my darling."

Suddenly, a huge smile spread across his face, and your sobs turned into giggles as you hugged him again. It was almost as if all your wounds had healed; you felt alive once more.

“Thank the gods, Marcus. It’s so good to touch you again, to be wrapped in your arms. With you here, I feel complete,” you breathed.

He held you close, pressing you tightly against him, resting his chin atop your head as if anchoring you both in that perfect moment. “So am I, my love, you are my reason for being. Forgive me for being late; I will never let you suffer such pain again,” he promised with a fierce intensity.

“Now that you’re here, touching me, all my pain has vanished,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the warmth of his presence.

A playful grin spread across his face, and he leaned down to claim your lips once more, kissing you deeply, passionately, and with an abundance of love. As he pulled you closer, he lifted you up and spun you around, your delighted giggles ringing out like music in the courtyard.

But the enchantment was abruptly shattered as you heard footsteps approaching, dragging you back to the bittersweet reality of your surroundings.

“I can’t let them see me,” Marcus said anxiously.

“Hide over there,” you said pointing to the space behind the column. He lovingly kissed your hand before finding his hiding spot.

One of the guards stopped when he saw you. “My lady? I heard a noise. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, you can return to your post. I will retire to my room now,” you replied, a calm authority laced in your voice.

He dipped his head in respect, turning on his heel and walking away. Once he was out of sight, you turned to Marcus. “Come with me.” You took his hand, your grip firm as if afraid you might lose him if you didn't hold on tight.

Marcus smiled as he walked beside you, admiring your beautiful face. His heart felt light as he accompanied you to your chambers, a smile dancing on his lips.

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XXI. Retaliation (Smut!18+!MDNI)

"Audentes Fortuna Iuvat"

Fortune favours the brave...

Virgil.

“Aya?”

You heard someone calling your name but only realized he was next to you when you noticed his shadow falling over you.

“My dear, why have you come here again?" Vicius asked as he sat down beside you, knowing where your gaze was directed. He sighed and gently caressed your head. You often visited the banks of the Nile, believing that your parents had left you there. From a distance, you would sit and observe other parents with their children. Each time, you pondered questions about yours.

“Uncle, why did they leave me? Doesn’t my mother miss me at all? What about my father? Why don’t they come looking for me?” You pointed to a mother and her child ahead. “Look how worried that boy’s mom seems to be because he came to the river without her knowing.”

Vicius always tried to give you positive answers, even when your questions tormented him. “One day,” he always promised, “One day we’ll find them, I promise.”

Remembering those days, you wondered how he could have known the truth and kept it from you for twenty years. It must have been incredibly difficult for him, tormented by questions he didn't know how to answer. Yet through it all, you held on to hope, always hoping that one day you would discover the truth about your mother and father so that you could ask them that very question. But when you finally learned who they were, the pain of realizing they were no longer alive was overshadowed by the heartache of understanding why you were sent away.

Despite all the tragedy, there was a glimmer of hope: the person with whom you built the family you always longed for. Life may not have been fair to you, but it blessed you with Marcus. He is your love, your husband, your breath, your best friend, your soul, your guiding light, your family—your everything. With his heart and love, you needed nothing else. You loved him deeply, and his love filled your heart so completely that you hardly felt the absence of your parents. However, you couldn't stop thinking of what that woman had said about your mother's death…

“Aurelia?”

Marcus’ soft, deep, masculine voice caressed your ears and scattered your thoughts like dust. Suddenly, you snapped back to reality, taking a moment to remember what you were doing. Your hands were touching the strings of his white armor. Ah, yes, you were back in your chambers, helping him remove his ceremonial attire.

You looked up and met his worried gaze. "I called out to you twice," he said, concern evident in his voice.

"Did you? My apologies, I..." You quickly untied the laces. He removed his armour and set it aside. Turning to you, he took your hands and sat you down on the bed beside him. "She said something to upset you, didn't she? Tell me what it was.”

You looked at him, tears in your eyes from the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. He frowned, pulled his hands away and stood up in frustration. Surprised, you watched him, noting how his anger seemed to deepen as a tear rolled down your cheek.

"Tell me, or I'll go ask her, and I'll do it in a very unpleasant way." His voice was low, probably to avoid waking Marcius, but it carried an unmistakable threat, though not to you. You grabbed his arm and urged him to sit back down on the bed.

“Marcus, please calm yourself and sit," you said with a pleading tone.

He obeyed, though his expression remained stern as he wiped away your tears with his thumb. He silently vowed to himself that he would make that woman who caused your tears to pay for the pain she inflicted on you, which tormented him to witness. But first, he wanted to listen to you; perhaps you could give a reason for him to end her once and for all. His dark thoughts only surfaced when he saw you cry.

You took his hand in both of yours and looked deep into his brown eyes. “I’m going to ask you something first, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

He nodded. “My beloved wife, when have I ever lied to you?” 

“That’s true, you haven’t.” You sighed. “However, there’s an issue… My mother… How did she die? I thought she passed away from an illness, but that woman claimed otherwise, and you knew it. Is that true?”

Marcus's expression changed instantly; he pulled his hands back and averted his eyes. "That wretched woman!" he snarled.

You touched his shoulder. “Is she telling the truth?” 

He balled one hand into a fist and nervously opened and closed it as he looked at you. “Can’t you just pretend you never heard that?” His voice was almost pleading. 

“Marcus, what are you saying? She told me you were hiding this from me, and you want me to pretend I never heard it? So she was right? Why did you do that? Why did you hide it?” 

He stood up, pulled out a chair, placed it opposite you, and sat down. Leaning forward, he took your hands in his, looking at you under his eyebrows. “I did hide it, that’s true. Because if you find out the truth, it will only hurt you. How can I let that happen?” 

“I still need to know. Please. She’s my mother; I want to know everything.”

He closed his eyes tightly and nodded. "As you wish." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I was a young soldier in General Maximus’ Legion; I've mentioned this before. After his and Commodus's death, your father, Septimius Severus, declared himself emperor, the threat from the north diminished and shifted south. My father held a high position in the Senate when he forced me to marry to change my outlook on things. I endeavored to take command of the legions in the south, and when I came home, I would hear my father talking to the other consuls. Your father Severus trusted him very much. They worked hard to hide your mother's illness from the people. They claimed the source of her illness was mundane, but in reality, your mother... seemed to have lost her mind. I've been told that this can happen to some women soon after childbirth, but I don't know much about it."

"Perinatal melancholia (postpartum depression)..." you murmured. "But Marcus, this isn't something that can't be cured. Wasn't my Uncle Vicius the court medicus? Couldn't he have helped my mother too? Why hasn't anyone done anything for their empress? Why didn't my father care about my mother?"

Marcus’s expression seemed troubled. "That’s where the problem begins. Your mother was still alive when your father brought Julia to the palace. They claimed that Empress Marciana's mental health warranted a legal annulment of their marriage, so the council convened to discuss your father's marriage to Julia. The council met, but they could not dissolve the marriage because your mother was still alive." He lowered his gaze. "My father was one of those who voted for the annulment," he admitted.

You reached out, lifting his chin with your hand so he would meet your eyes. "There is no need for you to feel any guilt about this, my love.”

He smiled weakly.

“However, you still haven't told me how my mother died.” Marcus's smile faded. “The medicine she was taking to get better... She was supposed to take very little, but she took it all at once.”

You felt your heart shatter into pieces. “Who prepared the medicine? Was it Vicius?” Your voice cracked.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. “As Vicius's medicine could not cure her, she began taking the medicine that another medicus had made, which Julia had recommended.”

Suddenly, your body was filled with rage. Marcus gripped your trembling hands tightly.

“Aurelia, my love, are you-?”

“She did it. She killed my mother, didn’t she?” Your voice was louder than you meant it to be, which caused Marcius to fidget in his sleep.

Marcus rubbed your shoulders, trying to calm you down. “Maybe, but no one can be sure of that. After all, your mother…”

“She’d lost her mind, and that made her an easy obstacle to get out of the way, didn’t it? That’s what happened, I’m sure of it.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

You pulled your hands away from his and stood up. “If she hadn’t had a hand in it, she would have told me about my mother to annoy me. She would have said things about her being mad and tried to upset me. But she didn’t do any of that.”

"She would lose Geta then," he said coldly. “She knows how much he cares about you. The moment Geta discovers all this, she will lose him. She is very aware of that."

It was evident how difficult it was for him to say that, particularly the tone when he mentioned ‘how much he cares about you.’

You crossed your arms. "That's why she offered to make a deal using Hanno then. She wants me to confront Julia. She must believe that Geta will discover the truth in that way, which would create a rift between them. And they say that a dog doesn't eat dog," you muttered.

"What did you say?" Marcus jumped to his feet, you could see how angry he was without even looking at him. “Did she threaten you about him?”

“Marcus, please calm down."

He couldn't, instead, he grabbed both of your hands and knelt before you. That was something you didn't expect him to do.

"Your Highness, my princess, I ask you to command me. I shall destroy her.”

You smiled, flattered by his behavior. "Marcus, please rise, my love. Don’t forget she is the wife of a member of the Senate. There must be another way."

He obey, rising to his feet, though his expression remained firm. "Damn the senate! I would destroy all of Rome to see a smile on your face. No one could threaten my wife, my princess, the light of my life. I will take the life of anyone who does." His booming voice was serious and you knew he would.

Marcius reacted to his father's voice by softly crying as he woke up. You gently touched Marcus's face. “I know, my love, I know, but if we act wisely, you won’t have to.” You moved towards Marcius and lifted him into your arms. Marcus seemed confused when you looked at him. “Besides, they’re not even worth you tiring yourself out.”

"What do you mean by 'act wisely'? Could you be more specific for your soldier husband, my clever wife?" he asked with a playful smile as he helped you sit on the bed, placing a pillow behind you to make you more comfortable, just as he always did before breastfeeding.

"I hope I am."

“You surely are. However, I wonder what’s on your mind,” he said as he sat down beside you.

You leaned down to breathe in Marcius’s sweet scent, then looked back at Marcus. “We will pay her back in her own coin.”

“How?” he asked.

“Why don’t we talk while we eat? It’s going to be a long night.”

He nodded. “If you say so.”

Tacita's house was slightly further from the city center than your villa, about a half-hour's journey by carriage. The sun had already set, and the moon had made its appearance, but clouds passing in front of it occasionally obscured its light. Decima accompanied you. Sensing your unease all the way, she smiled to comfort you as she helped you out of the carriage. The slaves opened the door for you, and you took a deep breath as you stepped into the courtyard of the house. The first thing that caught your eye was the fountain on the right. It was very quiet inside, which made the gentle flow of water from the open mouth of the Neptune statue in the center of the fountain echo in the dimly lit courtyard. Soon, the domina of the house came out to greet you, a smug look on her face.

You ignored her and looked around. ‘Smile for now; I'll be the one smiling at the end of the night,’ you thought.

“My lady, you're here. Honestly, I’m surprised; I thought you might have given up at the last minute.” She cast a furtive glance at Decima, who was standing beside you. “I imagine Acacius doesn’t know you’re here.”

You rolled your eyes. From that moment on, you had to control your emotions and reactions so you couldn’t let her suspect anything. You forced a smile. “Are we going to talk here? Won’t you invite me in, Lady Tacita?”

“Oh, of course, forgive me. Please come this way.”

She led you to the inner courtyard, where a small table was located in the corner. Decima pulled a chair for you to sit in. You sat down and crossed your legs, adjusting your stola while trying to suppress your tension and anger. Tacita ordered the slaves to bring you wine and then sat opposite you, beginning to recount all the facts you already knew—the truths that Marcus had shared with you.

As two horsemen approached the iron gates at the rear entrance of the Colosseum, the guards took a cautious stance. However, when Marcus and Octavius dismounted from their horses, the guards recognized them and stood at attention.

"General, Sir Octavius," they greeted.

"Allow us to pass," Marcus commanded.

Without hesitation, the guards opened the gate for them.

"Isn't it strange to be back here again?" Octavius remarked. "It reminds me of the brothers we lost here last time. I will never forget what Caracalla did, what he accused you of, and how we were brought here and forced to fight. Those were difficult times.”

“No one who comes here does so voluntarily, Octavius. Everyone within these walls is forced to fight in some way. We are the fortunate ones. Although we have lost our brothers, they were glorified in death, and their honor and strength continue to live on as their legacy with us. Remember what Commander Maximus always said.”

Octavius nodded. “What we do in life, echoes in eternity.”

“Indeed.”

They both placed their hands over their chests and paid their respects to their former commander as they walked past his grave.

Upon arriving at the quarters, they were greeted by guards and gladiator trainers. It was not every day that the Roman general visited, and their surprise was evident.

A burly man who appeared to be in charge stepped forward. "General, what brings you here, sir?"

Marcus glanced towards the cells ahead. "I wish to speak to one of Consul Albanus' fighters."

The man's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Which one, sir?"

"His name is Hanno."

He seemed to feel a wave of distress. "Well, he’s injured; he may not be able to walk here."

"Take me to him, then," Marcus insisted.

The man nodded. "Sure."

They followed him as he led the way. As they passed the cells, some fighters and gladiators stood up, looking at them with curiosity and whispering amongst themselves. Marcus ignored them, his focus unwavering as he glared at a few of them, while Octavius trailed behind.

The man stopped in front of one of the cells, took a key from the ring on his belt, and unlocked the door. He then gestured for Marcus to enter. As Marcus stepped inside, he saw Hanno lying on a mattress in the corner. He sat up and looked at him in surprise. Octavius turned to the man and said, “I’ll take it from here. Give me the keys and leave us alone.”

The man looked like he was going to protest, but he did as he was told and walked away.

“Great Roman General, is it truly you, or have I indulged in too much opium?” Hanno muttered, preparing to rise, but Marcus spotted the bandage on his leg and raised a hand to stop him.

“Why would you possibly hallucinate about me, fighter?” Marcus teased.

Hanno laughed. “That’s right, I wouldn’t. I’m intrigued by your presence here though. If Aurelia—”

“How dare you utter her name in a place like this?” Marcus cut him off.

Hanno tilted his head to the side, a mocking expression on his face. “My mistake…”

“Is it true that you’re a medicus?” he asked.

“If it weren't true, the wound on my calf would be in very bad shape right now,” he replied.

Marcus crossed his arms. “You’re ambitious, results-oriented, and hasty,” he muttered. “Surprising your opponent might seem smart, but you need to use your hasty demeanor to plan your next move carefully.”

“Are you lecturing me on fighting now?” 

“Let’s call it advice.” 

“A Roman general came here tonight to give advice to an ordinary fighter?” 

Marcus smirked. “I’m here to save your life.” 

Hanno sat up again. "That's funny. You wanted to kill me a few months ago."

“What can I say? Fate has a twisted sense of humor.” 

“I can agree with you on that one.”

“Come on, get up. We don’t have much time,” he urged, gesturing for him to rise.

Hanno got to his feet but immediately felt a sharp pain from his wound. “Shit,” he muttered.

Marcus looked at him. “Can you walk?”

Hanno grinned. “Why? Are you gonna carry me on your lap or something?”

Marcus glanced at Octavius. “He’s too much of a joker for a fighter, is he not?”

“Indeed, but I believe he has a very poor sense of humor, sir,” Octavius replied.

Hanno smirked in response. Once they were out of the cells, Octavius returned the key to the man from whom he had taken it. The man looked at them with wide eyes.

“But sir, he’s a fighter belonging to Consul Albanus. You can’t take him—”

Marcus shot him a sharp look, and the man fell silent. “I will tell him myself.”

A few voices called out to Hanno from the cell, and murmurs echoed in the corridor.

“Shut the hell up!” the man shouted at them.

Hanno raised his hand to calm them down, and all but one fell silent.

“Where are you taking him?” he asked, then muttered something in his native tongue, likely a swear word.

“Come on, move!” Octavius urged, pushing Hanno forward. Marcus glanced at the grumbling man for a moment before following after them.

“He hates you very much,” Hanno said with a grin. “Aldarf,” he added, looking at Marcus. “He said you killed his best friend in the arena.”

“I killed countless men there,” Marcus replied coldly, not interested in what he was talking about.

"But you fought this gladiator twice. Is it true you spared him the first time?"

Marcus stopped suddenly. "The gladiator of Macrinus..."

Octavius grabbed his arm and shook it. "He deserved worse than death, that bastard," he hissed.

"I was wrong not to kill him the first time," Marcus said, gesturing for them to keep walking.

"This Macrinus, everyone keeps talking about him. I think I saw him once in Egypt."

"This is no time for chit-chat; keep walking."

"Where are we really going?"

"Don't ask questions, just walk.”

“Fine.”

When they came outside, Octavius approached the guards, who were watching Hanno with curious expressions, and warned them threateningly not to disclose anything to anyone. Shortly after, Cato rode up to them on his horse.

“About damn time,” Marcus muttered.

He dismounted and rushed towards them. “General, sir.”

“Where have you been, Cato? Did you find Albanus?” 

Cato nodded. “Yes, I followed him. He made several stops along the way.” 

“Where is he now?” 

Cato lowered his head. “He’s at the whorehouse, sir. He’s… busy.” 

Octavius and Marcus exchanged glances.

“I never thought that man was loyal anyway,” Marcus mumbled.

"I'll go if you want me to," Octavius said, glancing at him hesitantly. 

"No, I'll go. You take him to the place we discussed," Marcus said, looking at Hanno. 

Hanno tensed up. "Wait a minute, what are you going to do to me?" 

Marcus smiled. "Don't you think it's a little late to be asking that question?" 

"But you're leaving me with these two. I don't trust them." 

Octavius shot him a dirty look, feeling the same suspicion he did. 

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "So, you trust me instead?" 

"No, I trust her, your wife. I don't know you, but I know her, so let's just say I trust what she says about you." 

Marcus moved closer to Hanno, his gaze intense. "You better stop claiming you know her; you're really getting on my nerves."

Hanno met his gaze just as fiercely. "But I do, even before you did.”

Octavius raised his fist. “That is enough! Sir, let me smash his face in!”

“Calm yourself, Octavius. Hurry up and get him out of here," he said through clenched teeth.

After that, he walked to his horse and mounted it. He glanced back at them one last time before urging his horse forward, and they rode off in separate directions.

"How can you be sure that Julia poisoned my mother?"

For over an hour, you had listened to this woman telling everything Marcus had told you earlier, while you pretended not to know anything. Now, however, you were really starting to struggle. You forced yourself to remain patient, hoping that Marcus had managed to get Hanno out and would come to get you soon.

“Yes, after all, she had to get rid of her to marry your father.”

Well, you knew that too; even a fool could see it. Now it was time for you to hear what you really wanted. So you asked, “But weren't you and Julia close? What made you decide to go behind her back? More importantly, what's in it for you?”

“Julia promised me that she would marry my cousin to Geta, but she broke her promise. Instead, she’s marrying him off to some Greek whore.”

“And you're taking your revenge on her in this way?”

Her gaze fell on the wine cup in her hand. "Only you can finish her, Aurelia. You have no idea how much she fears you."

"Is she?"

"Of course, she does... ever since she discovered you were alive. Your husband is a highly respected Roman general, and your brother is the emperor and they both care for you deeply. Additionally, you have given birth to an heir. If I possessed your power, I would have everything I desire. Yet, surprisingly, you remain modest.” She laughed in an unpleasant manner. "I wonder how you haven't managed to destroy her by now. Perhaps I've just given you the reason you need. What do you think?" She leaned across the table towards you. "Don't you believe it's time for you to start using the power you possess? Finish her off."

You couldn’t help but laugh; your patience was wearing thin. Just when you felt you could hardly endure it any longer, a slave approached you both. She looked at you with wide eyes before turning to her domina.

"My lady, General Acacius is here."

You let out a relieved breath. "Finally! I was afraid I might faint. Didn’t you feel that way, Decima dear?" You glanced at her and winked, prompting a smile from her.

Tacita looked confused. “What... what does this mean?”

You stood up. "Don't ever try to threaten me again, or I'll use that power you mentioned to finish you off. I’m not the type of person who will fall for your deceitful games.”

"You..." she murmured, stunned.

"My lady!" Marcus burst into the courtyard, calling your name as he came straight to you.

You responded to the smile on his face by smiling back. "You're just in time, my dear husband."

"I hope you weren't too bored."

You both turned to look at her and realized that Tacita's face was pale. "You two... What do you think you're doing?"

You ignored her and glanced at each other again. "Hanno?"

"He's safe."

She pointed her finger at you. “You deceived me! You played me!”

You looked at her again. “You played the game all along; we just changed the rules, and we won.”

She stood up, struggling to control her anger. “I don’t think Albanus would like this. How dare you kidnap our fighter?”

“Were you bluffing?” you asked angrily. “You said you’d have him killed.”

Marcus stepped between the two of you, still holding your hand. “Your husband Albanus already knows everything. He’ll be here soon; he was too busy getting dressed to come with me.”

Everyone present immediately understood the implication of his tone. Tacita's anger appeared to intensify.

Marcus gently stroked your cheek with his nose and whispered in your ear, ‘Wait for me in the carriage; I'll be right there." You nodded and, without looking at Tacita, left the courtyard with Decima.

Marcus approached her with a stern expression. "If I ever see my wife crying because of you again, I'll end you. Do you understand me?” His tone made even the slaves in the courtyard uneasy.

Just as you stepped outside, you saw Consul Albanus arriving at his villa. He greeted you quickly before rushing inside. Marcus was also coming out and stepped towards you. He smiled as the sounds of their argument echoed from inside. “I’ll go with Dromos, my lady; you take the carriage. It’s time for us to head home.” You gestured for Decima to get in the carriage first. Marcus leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “If we weren’t in the middle of the street, I’d have you already.”

You giggled and bit your lower lip. “Let’s get going at once, then.”

As soon as you arrived at the villa, you went straight to Marcius and nursed him. Even though you had only been away for a short time, you missed him terribly. When he fell asleep again, you handed him over to the girls and made your way to your chambers. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you climbed the stairs and realized that Marcus was waiting for you with his elbows resting on the balustrade. He was wearing only his burgundy tunic.

As you ascended the stairs, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours. You could feel each other's hearts racing. Without breaking the kiss, he approached the door of the room. Turning so his back faced the door, he used his elbow to turn the handle and kicked it open with his foot. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind him. You giggled in response to his impatience and urgency.

He sat you on the edge of the bed and knelt down. While he unlaced your sandals, you removed the hairpins from your hair.

“We really worked as a team today, didn’t we?”

He chuckled. “Yes, my love. We taught them a good lesson.”

“Oh, I want you so badly right now.”

Marcus grinned and kissed your knee as he took off your sandals. “Not as much as I want you, believe me.” He said huskily.

He untied your palla, removed your belt, and tossed it to the floor. When you were left only in your tunic, he looked up at you, his hands resting on your knees. “Now, princess... it’s time to fulfill my promise.” His hands moved up your thighs, gliding under the fabric of your tunic.

You threw your legs over his shoulder. “Don’t make your princess wait too long, general,” you teased.

He chuckled, leaned in to kiss you. “So impatient,” he said, nibbling at your earlobe. “What an impatient wife I have.”

You shrugged playfully, pursing your lips. He wrapped his arm around you and lifted you up, easily placing you on the bed so you could rest your head on the pillow while he would soon be busy between your legs.

But first, he was keen to enjoy the taste of your tongue and drink deeply from your mouth. Your lips had a glamour that fascinated him; he couldn't resist their charms. Each time, it captivated him as if it were the very first time, drawing him away from the present reality.

Without breaking the kiss, Marcus' hands wandered, following the curve of your waist, your hips, around to the small of your back, and you trembled at the heat of his touch against your bare skin as his hand slipped beneath your tunic, removing it harshly.

One hand came up to grip your hair and pushed them back, exposing your neck to him. He brought his teeth upon you, biting and suckling down on your skin, while his other questing hand found its way between your legs. Your knees buckled slightly, and the feel of his fingers finally between your aching folds made you whimper.

He pulled his hand out from between your lips, and you whined at the loss. "Hmm, so wet, so needy." He murmured, licking his fingers. Then he leaned down.

Your legs were parted for him already, so eager to feel his tongue on you, and he was more than willing to oblige. One arm snaked under your knee as he closed in on your womanhood, bringing your leg over his shoulder to angle your groin up slightly. That hand came to rest over your hips, holding you firmly. The other pushed your other leg further aside, opening you for him. He nipped and licked his way up your inner thigh, mouthing at your skin that grew more and more sensitive the closer he came to your throbbing cunt. You could feel his hot breath on you as he kissed your lips. Your hand flew to grab a fistful of his hair and you pulled him against you to feel his tongue against you.

He snickered and kissed your left inner thigh, and then you felt his nose and his mustache just ever so delicately grazed over your lips as he turned to kiss the other side. You squirmed, trying to angle your hips in such a way that gave you some contact with his mouth. He didn’t touch you, though. Was he teasing you?

“Marcus,” you whimpered. "I need you, please."

He chuckled, oh, how he loved you like this – when he knew he had you at his mercy.

“You’ll have to be more specific, my love,” he said, his breath against you and not nearly enough but somehow almost too much. You whined in response and couldn’t help but arch your hips up to him, just a little bit more. He needed to put his mouth on you, he needed to touch you, he needed to stoke the fire in the pit of your stomach, but coherent thought was well and truly out, and you didn’t have the words to ask for what you wanted. You tightened your grip on his hair and pulled him towards you, mewling softly.

He seemed to get your drift anyway, and locking eyes with you - he was so handsome, especially with a satisfied smirk at your need for him - he then leaned into your wetness. When his tongue, soft and slick and hot, met your pearl, you found your words.

“Gods!”

His laugh that rumbled against you sent a shiver through you, and you threw your head back, surrendering yourself to him completely. His tongue worked you just how he knew how you loved it, circling you, licking down on you, dipping low to tease your entrance before bringing his attention back to the center of your pleasure. He didn’t rush a moment of your delight, and when you were writhing against his face, he ran two fingers up your thigh and plunged them into you.

He sucked you and licked you and kissed you. All the while, his hot breath against you felt terribly intimate, and you were utterly his. You gasped and cried out under his movements, and he hummed out his satisfaction against your cunt. He pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and you tried to keep your eyes on him as he pleasured you but couldn’t stop yourself from rolling them and squeezing them shut as he brought you closer to the precipice; your toes curling.

"Marcus, I’m going to..." You groaned.

"Come for me, my love. Let me hear you. Let me taste you." He purred.

His words were the last straw, and somewhere between the delicious sensations within you and the absolute onslaught of his tongue on your clit, it all became far too much and just enough, and everything went pure white as he pushed you through your climax. Your hips bucked, all restraint gone, and you rode out your orgasm with his mouth still against you, his fingers still massaging you as every muscle in your body tightened all at once.

It wasn’t until the tremor that ripped through you had completely run its course that he slowly brought his fingers out of you. Your leg that was hiked over his shoulder hung limp against his back, and you were slumped back against the pillow, panting.

"Are you pleased, my princess?" He asked, licking his lips.

You nodded with your eyes still closed, unable to speak. He snickered and gave you a moment to recover, but soon, the sight of you became so arousal to him that his lust was growing, throbbing almost painfully. He leaned back on his heels to take you in. You slipped your leg off of his shoulder, and you met those hungry eyes of his, biting your lip in response.

The fire inside him was vibrant, and you wanted to be consumed by it.

He wrapped his arm possessively around your waist, drew you close, and kissed you deeply. One of your hands grasped his length, and he gasped in surprise.

“I wish to please you too, my love.” You cooed, fingers closed around his erection in a determined manner. He sighed and got up on his knees, his shadow enveloping your entire body while he gazed down at you with impossibly deep eyes. His heart was racing with excitement as you leaned into his groin, feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest. He was so hard for you, with leaking pre-cum from the tip, the incarnation of temptation itself.

He smiled gratefully down at you, bringing one hand to stroke your cheek. His thumb came to part your eager lips, and you kept your eyes fixed on his, loving the sight of him so ready to lose himself within you. Your jaw hung open for him, and that hand that had parted your lips trailed across your face and came to settle amongst your hair. His fist clenched around a handful of your locks, and you nodded up at him.

You touched him with your sweet, hot tongue, and he let out a loud groan as he pushed his length into your mouth. You took his tip in, eagerly, tasting him as he buried himself within you. He started slowly, letting you suck in as much as you could, removing himself completely from you with a really obscene booming sound when the suction of your lips around him broke.

“Damn,” he grunted and you hummed in approval as he pressed himself back within you, pushing your head towards him a little bit now. If you could, you would have been grinning against him, loving the way he was already losing himself in his pleasure. You kept your eyes fixed on him, watching his face contorted in delight. His eyes were squeezed shut, teeth over his bottom lip in a bid for restraint.

You quickened your pace,  moving up and down on him, taking him into you as far as you could before your throat threatened to convulse around him – and it wasn’t long before he held you there for a moment, choking on his length, and you knew he could no longer stop himself. His eyes flashed down to you, and you could not breathe around him. Your eyes stung, and the glance you exchanged was like oil thrown onto the fire of your passion. Something wild ignited behind his eyes, sending a thrilling rush through you. He relented, pulling completely out of your mouth, but it was only to reposition himself to thrust deeper.

He grabbed you around the waist and moved so that he could lean one hand on the headboard behind you, and he put one leg and spread it to the side. He guided and pushed his lust back into your mouth and slipped straight down your throat. In this position, you had your head tilted up towards him, and his free hand was still tangled in your hair, and with it, he kept you still. 

He was thrusting into you aggressively to make you hum and drool around him, but you loved his roughness. His hair hung limply over his forehead as he tilted down to watch you take him – it excited him so much to see you so compliant for him, so willing to be used by him. His breaths came in heavy gasps and guttural groans as he thrust into you. You loved the way he took what he needed from you, and he admired you so that he could trust you with his most carnal needs as he chased his release, bucking into you wildly.

You gripped him firmly, needily, holding his muscular thighs tight as he exploit your throat, and you relished in his love. This was just about need and being needed. This was something you could give him as his wife and you both loved it. With you, he was just a man with needs - needs that you were eager to fulfill, just as he'd done for you.

“My love, I'm going to –” he gasped out, cursed, strangled by his own climax. His rhythm stuttered, and he pushed himself into you deeply one last time and held you there, buried in your throat. You swallowed around his pulsing length, taking every drop of his spend, and although it was a choking sound, you moaned around his shaft in earnest gratitude. Even as he finished, he could not stop his groin from bumping against you. Once he was utterly drained, he slowly pulled out of you with a deep sigh as you sucked every inch of his softening length until he left your mouth with a soft moan. You might have felt a little shy with some of his seed still on your chin, but there was nothing to hide from him. You shared this, the quivering aftermath of the lust of the two of you, just as you shared it itself.

"Do you have any idea how incredibly fortunate you make me feel?" he asked. But the only answer he needed was for his lips to passionately touch yours. You sighed against him and buried into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. His furious lust was subdued for now but it never really gone, not just yet.

Still breathing heavily, he lay back on the bed and pulled you down with him. You ran your fingers over his muscular chest, which rose and fell with each breath. “How about some wine and fruit, husband?”

In a sudden move, he cupped your chin with one hand. “I’d love to eat your sweet tongue with that fruit,” he said, then kissed you, his tongue parting your lips and brushing against yours. When he finally released you, you giggled and stood up while he sat up in bed. He watched you with interest as you poured wine into a cup.

Soon, you returned to the bed with two cups and sat down beside him. His expression turned serious as you handed him the wine. “Aurelia, my love, I am so proud of you."

You sipped your wine, “Hm? Are you proud that I can satisfy you as your wife?”

He laughed, his free hand running through your hair. “That too. But mostly because I’ve seen how smart and strong you’ve become and what a good and caring mother you are.” He sighed. “Every day with you, I feel something I never experienced in my desolate and soulless life before you: gratitude.”

“Marcus...” you said coyly.

"I am grateful because you chose me; you gave me your light that illuminates my life, my soul. You could have given it to someone else, like that friend of yours, someone closer to your age. He obviously cared for you too, protecting and cherishing you." He laughed, but there was a hint of trouble in his voice. "I feel strangely grateful to him, and at the same time, a little jealous."

"Jealous?" you asked.

He pursed his lips. “Yes, because he met you before I did."

You reached over and placed your cup on the small table beside the bed so you could cup his face with both hands. "Marcus, what are you saying? Age? Knowing me before? What does any of that matter compared to my love for you? You silly man, don't you realize how much I love you? Don't you know that my days and nights belong only to you?”

You repeated his earlier words, and he smiled while caressing your cheek.

"So did I. Before you, my life had no purpose. Only your presence gives meaning to my life now. I'm grateful that I can have you and that I am your wife." You then frowned slightly, pressing your finger to his lips. "So don’t ever speak like that again."

“You’re right; I apologize. Let’s just forget it.”

You trailed your finger along his collarbone, “I'll forgive you if you recite a poem for me."

He paused to choose which poem to recite, smiled, set his cup on the floor, and turned back to you. One finger traced your lips before he spoke. “Finally I see, my heart loves, if these are crimes, then kill me. I have always asked Gods to grant me dignified death; thanks to them, your glance was what killed me. Who should I complain to? Because what tortures me is love.”

“It's beautiful…" you smiled.

He leaned over you, and in response, you lay on your back. He placed his hands on the bed on either side of you. "Nothing could be as beautiful as the sight of you lying beneath me, my love."

Before you could answer, he kissed you, hot and lascivious, forcing his tongue hastily into your mouth. And you hastily kissed him back. A grunt left his throat, matching your rapid breathing, and he raised his hands to rub your breasts, kneading them possessively. They gave under his hands, hardening, and you arched your back to press against him as your tongue rolled around his, into your mouth, dancing together. It was hard to breathe with the kiss and the scent of him, earthy and sweet together, and when you paused to catch your breath he kissed your lower lip hard enough to hurt, hard enough to send a rush of desire straight to your core.

Your hand clasped his hair and the other scratched the back of his neck. He pressed his knee between yours, parting them for him, and you eagerly slid your hips towards him. He swirled his tongue around your hardened nipples and looked up to meet your eyes again, both of you blurred with lust. Finally he began to move, thrusting out and then back in. Shivers ran down your spine every time his length rubbed against your insides, causing such tingly friction. That feeling of fullness... it drove you mad every time. He was very talented and patient, but his expertise only made you squirm more. For a while you rocked beneath him, trying desperately to move your hips against his. You tangled your fingers in his curls, pulling him against you, begging him to thrust deeper into you. You were in a trance, losing yourself second by second in this insane pleasure and heat. Moaning, groaning and screaming his name over and over again only served to make him go deeper.

You involuntarily arched your back and closed your eyes. His hand gently touched your chin. "Look at me, my love. I want to see your beautiful eyes as we both release…"

As always, he wanted to make this so pleasant to you. You did so and he pressed his lips against yours. His eyes burn you to the core, leaving you mewling for even more.

The breeze from the open window caused the tulle around the bed to sway gently, brushing against your sweaty body. You shivered, not from the cold, but from mind-blowing pleasure. He licked your earlobe, asking shamelessly with a dark, husky voice. “Do you wish me to breed this sweet cunt, my love?”

Gods above! How could you possibly oppose him?

He sounded like he gave you a choice, but in reality, he knew your answer already, simply teasing you and enjoying himself.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders, your words came out, pleading. “Yes!” you cried between his thrusts as your cunt ached to be filled, “Yes, yes, breed me, please, Marcus.”

He chuckled derisively at your whimpering. “So needy, I see. I shall grant your wish-”

He gripped your hips possessively, pulling you even tighter against him, lips claiming yours one last time. You groaned in unison as he filled you in, your cunt clenching in response. You both gasped, your eyes closing in bliss as feeling his warm liquid washing your insides. He was still panting, savoring the moment, his fingers entwined with yours as he spilled the last drops into you. Your mind blurred with the orgasm you just had; you could only remain motionless as his lips roamed over the reddened parts of your body, kissing, licking, marking.

He soon rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. As you felt the gentle brush of his breath against your back, like a soft whisper in the night, your eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. Surrendering to the soothing tranquility that surrounded you, you finally succumbed to the inviting depths of sleep.

On the second day of the games, you and Marcus went to the Colosseum to watch the fights, just like the day before. A surprise addition to the event was the presence of tigers, which sent the crowd into a frenzy of excitement and cheers. As Hanno fought, you tensed up again, praying that the battle would end soon. Fortunately, he and his friends emerged victorious for the second consecutive day.

Geta felt a bit sad about losing two more tigers, but you could tell he was still enjoying himself somehow. Consul Albanus was pleased as well, but his happiness shifted when he noticed Marcus and you together. His wife was absent today, which might indicate that they had a significant argument—who knows? After all, Albanus had won a substantial amount of money thanks to Hanno's success, and his wife had endangered the life of his most valuable fighter by trying to blackmail you. He must have been furious when he discovered the truth.

Julia, unlike her former friend, was present and sitting next to Geta throughout the games. It pained you to see her there; anger was welling up inside you, and it hurt deeply. But for now, you had to be patient because Geta's wedding was just weeks away, and the last thing you wanted was to upset him. You cared about him and wanted him to have someone to love and to be happy, just like you. In fact, if you had Julia’s character, you could have easily ruined her, but you decided to wait for the right opportunity. You chose to hold off a little longer.

On the final day of the Games, you invited your aunt Antonia to the villa in the afternoon to discuss everything that had happened. However, first, you needed to attend the final event of the Games. You were deeply concerned about Hanno, who had been badly wounded in the arm the day before. He was on your mind constantly. You desperately wanted to speak to him before his last fight—after all, his life was on the line. However, Marcus was firmly against it. The cells were filled with fighters and gladiators, and the thought of allowing you to enter those confines only made him more frustrated. In the end, he couldn't resist your pleas and promised that once Hanno was a free man, he would take you to see him himself.

You felt so tense during the games that even the soft, comforting touch of Marcus’s lips on your hand couldn’t calm your nerves.

"You know him, don’t you?" Geta’s voice distracted you, and you glanced at him briefly, though your gaze remained fixed on Hanno.

"The last time I saw you this nervous was when Acacius was fighting over there," he grumbled.

"Yes, I know him; he's an old friend of mine."

Geta paused from watching the game and directed his attention to your face. "I hope he doesn't die then," he muttered, pursing his lips.

Marcus glared at him, but Geta chose to ignore his comments and remained focused on you. He then mumbled something under his breath.

"Did you say something to me?" You asked, trying to catch what he had said. You didn’t quite hear, but it sounded like he had remarked, ‘As if I am not in agony enough…' Perhaps you misheard him; the overwhelming noise of the crowd made it easy to get things mixed up.

Fortunately, Hanno displayed exceptional skill in combat and achieved a notable victory. Geta squinted for a long time at your overjoyed expression, as you clapped your hands cheerfully. The necessary procedures to grant the champions their freedom were to be initiated. However, this was not as simple as it seemed, and it could not be done immediately. First, the required payment had to be made to the appropriate authority, and then a commission had to be given to the purchaser. At least Hanno would no longer be forced to fight, you thought, although Marcus had mentioned that he might still participate in some small-scale fights at the gladiator training school to earn a bit more coin.

A week later, Hanno was legally a free man. Instead of returning to Egypt, he chose to stay at the gladiator training school as a medicus. However, he first needed to become a Roman citizen, which proved to be a bit of an ordeal since he was reluctant to apply for citizenship. You were supposed to talk to him about this, but you've been a bit busy lately. The situation with Decima and Octavius was a significant part of the reason for your distraction. Immediately after Marcus freed Decima as his dominus, you began preparations for their wedding. You wanted her to be happy—she deserved it, after all. Still, it made you a little sad that you couldn’t see her whenever you wanted, as you used to. Octavius’ family lived in the countryside outside the city, but his own modest house was not far from yours, which brought you some relief.

Your little Marcius was growing every day, and he made the most beautiful mumbles that you had never heard in your life, and he never ceased to amaze you. When Marcus was at home, he never let him out of his arms. He was telling him every day how strong he would become, how he would lead his own armies one day, how they would ride horses together, and how he would teach him how to use a sword. You couldn't wait for those days to arrive, but at the same time, you couldn't shake your worries about him. As long as Julia lived, that concern would never fade, and you were all too aware of it.

The day before Geta's wedding, you and Decima visited Palatine Hill to check on Nerissa and her baby. Nerissa had done so much for you during your wedding preparations back then, she also kind of saved your life, so you wanted to return the favor. As you and Decima gave her the bridal verbena crown you had made together, Nerissa looked happy, though perhaps not as joyful as you had expected. The baby appeared healthy, and it seemed he had regained weight since the last time you saw him. After a quick chat, during which she seemed somewhat tired, you left her chambers and went downstairs. Something about her felt a bit off, but you thought it was just pre-wedding nerves. You hoped that was all it was.

As you entered the main courtyard, you asked the slaves where Geta was. They informed you that he was in the great hall with some members of the Senate. Fortunately, Julia was not with him; she was occupied with decorations and other preparations. You caught a glimpse of her from a distance, but she didn’t recognize you, which you were thankful for. The last wedding held in this palace was yours, and you smiled as you reminisced about that day.

Upon entering the main courtyard, you saw Commander Darius and several members of the Senate. They greeted you with a respectful bow. You noticed an anxious look on their faces, and after they departed, you approached Darius to inquire about it. He appeared somewhat troubled, which made you curious.

“Commander, is something wrong? Where is my brother?” you asked.

“He's inside, my lady. Unfortunately, a messenger arrived this morning with some bad news,” he replied.

“A messenger, you say?” 

“Yes, my lady. It seems that the Council is to hold an emergency meeting after Emperor Geta's wedding. The situation is, unfortunately, serious. I was planning to go see General Acacius now, as His Majesty requested me to bring him here.” 

“What is the matter that is so serious?” 

He sighed deeply. “It seems that Elagabalus has escaped and betrayed Emperor Geta, seeking refuge with the Carthaginians, and they have taken it. We must be prepared for anything. Anyway, I have to go see the General. Is he in the barracks?” 

“He said he would be there today,” you muttered, nodding your head. 

He saluted you and left the courtyard with a few soldiers. 

“Just when we thought the war was over…” Decima sighed in distress.

You looked at her and realized she must have been feeling the same way you did. Your chest tightened at the thought. The war... You didn’t want to hear that word for a long time, but now it was being mentioned again, and a bad feeling washed over you. You hated it.

When you arrived in the great hall, Geta was sitting alone at his desk with his head in his hands. He looked up as the guards closed the door behind you, and his troubled expression softened upon recognizing you. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and approached you.

“Ah! Just when I needed you the most...”

You allowed him to hug you as he looked very sad and desperate.

“Is it true? What your cousin did...”

He let out a distressed sigh and returned to his desk. His hand was shaking as he poured himself a goblet of wine. Was he drunk? He didn’t even have a slave with him; he probably just wanted to be alone.

“That’s true, I’m afraid.” He picked up the goblet and gestured to the tangled papers and letters on the desk as you approached.

“Here, look. See what a terrible emperor I am.”

You examined the letters and correspondences you held in your hands. The letters were from Sicily, Sardinia, Athens, the Gauls, and, notably, Carthage. Each letter indicated a refusal to continue tax payments to Rome and posed a threat to terminate trade relations.

“How did Elagabalus manage to persuade them all to do this?”

“It truly doesn't matter; as you can see, they have reached a common agreement. Their goal is to defeat Rome and divide its territories among themselves so that he can ascend to the throne and fulfill his promises to them. I suspect they are likely preparing for an attack. I need to convene the council tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow is your wedding.”

"In this situation, it would be reasonable to consider either postponing or canceling the wedding."

"No, brother. Have you forgotten that Elagabalus sought to abduct her? He has plotted this out but he failed, so he wouldn't want you to wed her, would he? You cleared the scattered papers off the map on the table, searched for Greece, and placed your finger on its location. "When the Greeks learn that your heir is born of their princess, it's likely they could cut ties with their current alliances. Furthermore, it seems the Greek city-states haven't united against Rome just yet."

"Consuls claim that the Athenians value their democracy, yet they also hold their culture in high regard. It is possible that they cherish their princesses, but it is uncertain whether their councils will support the marriage."

“They will. They must,” you said firmly.

He grinned, "Do you really think that's not overly optimistic? Should we just wait and do nothing?"

"We absolutely must make every necessary preparation," you said. The south is clearly the center of escalating tensions, and it's obvious that if war breaks out, the southern legions will be deployed there to confront the threat. Even a child could grasp that reality. Yet, the unsettling truth remains: the one who will command them is none other than your husband, General Acacius. This fact was a significant concern for you.

Suddenly, your thoughts scattered at the sound of his mocking voice. You turned to look at him. "Of course. Why wouldn't I want to?" You squinted at him. "Honestly, why are you so against getting married?"

He gazed down at the goblet in his hand. "It's strange, being tied down to one person."

"Is that really what you're worried about? I mean, you're the emperor. You have as many concubines as you desire." You smiled, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Suddenly, he slammed the goblet onto the desk, causing wine to spill over and soiling some papers. Was he angry? But what you said was not wrong. He stepped toward you, a different look in his eyes making you nervous. "Who says I want them? In my bed, maybe, but never in my heart."

"Well, technically, you can't have more than one person in your heart anyway." You snapped in response.

"Is that so?" He sounded upset. "What about your heart? Do you only have room for one person? Is there no space for anyone else?"

You looked away, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. "You're drunk and upset. You don't know what you're saying."

He grasped your shoulders tightly, startling you. "How long will you ignore my feelings?"

You tried to free yourself from his grip but he wouldn't let you. "Brother... please, this isn't what you think it is. You believe you love me, but you're mistaken. This isn't love; it can't be. Love is meant to be easy; it shouldn't cause suffering. So please, come to your senses. Don't destroy what we have between us."

You weren’t sure if it was because he was drunk, but he refused to listen to you, and you didn't like the way he looked at you. Suddenly, he tilted his head toward you, and when his eyes dropped to your lips, you tried with all your strength to pull back, but you couldn’t. All you could do was close your eyes and press your lips tightly together. Just then, the door to the great hall opened.

“Your Majesty, I have brought General Acacius, as you requested—” Commander Darius was too shocked by what he saw to finish his sentence.

Both of you turned your heads in that direction. 

To be continued…

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[heramj]

General Acacius - Gladiator II

Okay, some asked me to draw him, and I worked on this for about three days (literally my eyes see him only wherever I look lol). I really enjoyed drawing this beautiful man!

thank you so much for all the asks and support so far, love you all!

[heramj]

this fic 😍😍😍😍

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XVIII. The Unexpected (Smut!18+!MDNI)

Guys I did some research on the baby's name and since my sister is a historian I consulted her. In Rome, names are arranged as follows: a male Roman citizen typically had three names (the tria nomina): a praenomen (first name), a nomen (also called nomen gentilicium, identifying the clan or gens), and a cognomen (a nickname, identifying a particular branch of a gens). So Marcus(given name) Justus(probably like the title or Justia gens I think they gave him that name in the film because it means ‘just’) Acacius (clan name which you cant change like a surname) so in this case I named the baby Marcius. if you look at the quote from Wikipedia you will understand better: In Latin, most nomina were formed by adding an adjectival suffix, usually -ius, to the stem of an existing word or name. Frequently this required a joining element, such as -e-, -id-, -il-, or -on-. Many common nomina arose as patronymic surnames; for instance, the nomen Marcius was derived from the praenomen Marcus, and originally signified Marci filius, "son of Marcus”.

so enjoy the chapter!

"Vivere est militare..."

To live is to fight...

It had been almost a month since the day you considered the most beautiful day of your life, the day you gave birth. You hadn't anticipated that day to unfold in this way, but life often has a way of surprising. You were pleased and eager as you bade farewell to Palatine Hill and returned to the villa. It would be fair to say that the population of both Rome and the villa had increased by one. It wasn't easy for newborn babies in Rome either. Firstly, the baby had to survive the first month, as almost half of newborn babies did not make it through the first week. In the days after the birth, it was traditional to wear a chain of amulets around the child's neck. You made him wear it as per the custom, but after a month you decided to take it off because it kept waking him up from his sleep. That's why a special naming ceremony was held when the baby was one month old. Fortunately, since your baby was healthy and strong enough to be a newborn – probably because he got his strength from his father – he survived the first month very well.

On the day of the special naming ceremony at the Juno temple, after the customary sacrifices to the god Juno and other deities, Marcus announced the baby's name and offered a prayer. As the firstborn son, you thought it fitting to give him the name Marcius Justus Acacius. He bore a striking resemblance to his father as if you had given birth to him anew, just as you had wished. A son who was a true reflection of that wonderful man in every way. This was perhaps best confirmed by Tullia, as she was the only person who knew Marcus from the moment he was born. The baby, Marcius, brought joy and light to the villa with his loud cries. He was a source of joy for everyone. While everyone was looking after him and taking good care of him,  you spent most of the time breastfeeding him and recovering from exhaustion after the birth. For the first two weeks, Marcus was seldom absent from the villa, and very attentive to you and the baby. He seemed to be in a more cheerful mood lately, always smiling.

During that time period, your aunt Antonia and your cousin Paulina came to the villa on several occasions to see the baby. Your aunt seemed pleased and proud that you had given birth to a son. Paulina had been told by her own midwife that her baby was a boy, which seemed to make her really happy because she already had two daughters. They offered you one of their slaves to help you breastfeed your baby, but you refused. You were determined to breastfeed him yourself. The midwife too, came by each week to check on the baby's progress and your recovery. She advised against hot baths, so you took care of your personal hygiene with the girls' help. It looked like the bleeding had stopped completely, but it would be another two weeks before the midwife could say that you were fully recovered. After a lengthy period of waiting, that night had finally arrived. The night you and Marcus had been looking forward to for so long. You were eager to take a hot bath, as well as to touch his skin freely. After breastfeeding the baby that evening, your heart was pounding with excitement as you took your bath in the balneum with the help of Decima and Norell. The baby was going to stay with the girls tonight, so after breastfeeding him, you kissed him and went up to the room.

First, you put on your tunic, which is made of very thin, see-through fabric. You smiled as you touched your waist and felt the slimline. You were pleased that the big belly was gone, but you still missed that feeling. You looked at your reflection in the mirror Marcus had given you and ran your fingers through your hair. It was both strange and amazing to see yourself so clearly. You put the mirror back in the drawer, took a fig from the tray with the food you'd prepared, and went out to the balcony. Gazing out at the garden below, you thought back to that special night, that sacred night when you gave yourself to Marcus, your first time. You might not be as inexperienced now, but you were feeling the same excitement. As the minutes passed, it became more difficult to wait, because remembering that night made you remember his every touch on your skin. You peeled your fig and popped it in your mouth, watching the moonlight dance on your creamy skin as you chewed.

You returned to the inside of the room and lay on your front on the bed. It had been months since you'd been able to lie in this position, so you were really enjoying it. Just then, you heard voices coming from the courtyard and your heart started to beat faster. The footsteps on the stairs were loud and sounded like they were moving quite quickly. You grinned and turned on your side in bed, smoothing your hair.

Marcus entered the room briskly, his eyes seeking you out and a hint of a smile playing on his lips when he saw you on the bed. He closed the door behind him, looking at you intently, his heart racing.

"Or did you begin without me, princess?"

"How could I, General?" You got out of bed as he removed his shawl. "Wine?" You picked up the wine cup on the tray and poured wine from the decanter. Marcus was sitting on the bed, taking off his sandals. “Please."

He'd finished, waiting for you as you walked over to him holding two cups in your hands. He was looking into your eyes as he took the cup from your hand, even as he drank. "Have you been touching yourself in my absence?" He smirked as he gazed at you from head to toe.

"Marcus..." you whined cutely.

"Tell me," he demanded, and sat you on his lap, licking his lips.

Your cheeks flushed. "Maybe a little." You took a sip of your wine.

"Where? Show me."

You smiled mischievously and took his hand, guiding it to where you wanted him most. "Here. But I much prefer your touch."

Feeling your wetness beneath the fabric, he swallowed, breathing heavily now. He quickly drank his wine and placed his cup on the floor, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Let me feed you first, my love. You must be hungry.”

"I am not hungry." His brown eyes were alight with desire. "I am starving." He said in a deep voice as he took the cup from your hand. "Besides, the night is long." He grinned and pushed you onto the bed, he did it so fast that you gasped.

He leaned over and you felt a shudder run through you, not from the light breeze that blew in through the balcony and extinguished the oil lamp's flame, but from a deep longing, a passionate desire, and a strong urge to kiss. His eager lips found yours and moaned as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and drew you closer, deepening the kiss. He was very much compelled by your sweet tongue and breath and longed to drink from your mouth as he wished.

You ran your fingers through his grey hair as the kiss itself became a lascivious, passionate mating of mouths. It wasn't until he broke the kiss to run his lips over your trembling skin that you realised you were breathless, dizzy. He pushed your hair back to expose your neck and ran his lips and tongue over your jugular. As he licked your skin, he was pleased to realise you'd just had a bath and your skin smelled like the jasmine oil you'd rubbed on your body – you were doing it all for him. His hands grabbed the straps of your tunic as his lips moved under your chin. But as he slid them down, the threads on the straps caught on the ring on his finger. You giggled at him, but he looked serious.

"Having fun, I see…"

"It's just like our wedding night all over again," you teased. "There's something in the way again."

He smiled smugly. "I'm a soldier. I can overcome any obstacle in my way," he said, in a husky voice. "Break through the front…" He grasped the straps with his thick fingers, holding on tight. "And attack."He roughly tore the fabric apart, making a loud tearing sound. You looked at him with your eyes wide, but he was focused on your exposed breasts. It might have been Marcus' hot breath licking them before his tongue or the fact that you'd just nursed the baby, but they were already aroused and fully erect, and a few drops of milk slowly trickled from your nipples.

"May I?" he asked.

You nodded, knowing full well what he was asking.

He pulled your torn tunic down to your waist and buried his face between your breasts.  You felt a pleasant shiver ran down your spine with pleasure as his warm tongue traced the path of the milk and found your nipple. This was a rather different feeling from the previous ones. You weren't sure if it was because your breasts were producing milk now, but it was very beautiful and extremely arousing. He took one nipple in his mouth and you clenched the fabric of his tunic as he sucked gently and then hungrily, enchanted by the taste.

"Marcus!" you gasped.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. “Am I hurting you?”

You inhaled, taking a deep breath. “No, you're amazing, it's just I breastfeed Marcius you know and I'm afraid if you suck on me like that..."

He cut you off with a kiss placed on your sternum. "I'll be gentle my love, I promise."

And he picked up where he left off, but more gently, as he promised. As he sucked on one, he rubbed the other nipple, making you moan softly. He licked his lower lip. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted in my whole life."

You laughed and ran your finger through his lips. "What about my wetness?" You asked in a seductive tone.

He stared. "Woman, you're driving me mad. The more I try to be gentle, the more you try my patience." He grunted as he ripped your tunic off and freed you from it. Then he removed his own tunic and grabbed you by the legs, pulling you towards him and sliding you over the silk sheet. Your heart began to beat in your throat. "Let me see how wet you are." He said with a grin.

As you looked at his bare chest, admiring the view, he leaned over you and placed one leg over his shoulder, then the other.

He then buried his head between your legs, his beard and moustache tickling your inner thighs, which was a huge turn on for you. You both realised how much you'd missed this. His warm tongue licked along the seam of your cunt, dipping in between the folds of your labia, expertly but eagerly.

Just as you were about to grab onto his hair tight, directing him to where you needed him, he buried his nose in the pale locks on your mound, letting his lips encircle your pearl. He drags his tongue across it, before sucking softly, and you whine, tangled your fingers in his curls, your head tipping back as the warm ache in your walls sharper, more insistent.

He stopped sucking you long enough to say, "How I've missed the taste of you. It's even better than my memories and my dreams – so much more delicious."

You had to swallow before you could speak. "Have you been dreaming of my taste?" You panted.

"I couldn't think of anything else. Every time I got one of your letters, I found myself thinking about this moment only."

You propped yourself on your elbows and looked at his face through between your legs. "Marcus..." You murmured.

"I didn't write you many letters back, I couldn't. I guess I wanted to show you how I felt instead of writing." He smirked.

You reached out to give him a kiss.

"These words you say are better than a letter."

"Right..." His gaze deepened again. "Now..." He placed his hand between your breasts and pushed you back gently. "Let's continue, shall we?”

"Fine by me," you giggled but it was replaced by a moan as you felt his finger slide inside you.  You gave yourself over to him completely as he played with your most sensitive spots at will. Since his big hands were gripping your hips tight making it impossible to pull away from his touch anyway.

He continued to suck more hungrily this time, taking in delight in the fact how swollen you were getting, your deep moans sounds like music to his ears, simply encouraging him keep going. The pleasure became too much as the relentless movements of his mouth became a slick sounding action and your back arched, your eyes closed tight, your fingertips curling. Soon, your legs were shaking violently, you gripped the sheets so hard you wanted to tear them into pieces and… You are in Elysium.

He felt your release; your warmth coated his mouth and chin. His tongue went inside you and licked up every tasty drop that dripped out. When he had finished, he leaned over, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him, pushing your tongue inside his mouth, tasting yourself.

He then pressed himself against you as he deepened the kiss, using his weight to pin you to the bed.

As the tip of his glorious length brushed against your wet clit, you writhed, feeling like you were about to fly out of your skin. He ran his fingers over your body, enjoying the softness of your skin against his rough, battle-worn fingers. He slowly pushed himself inside you, watching your face as he did so. You were breathing heavily, your hazel eyes wide with excitement and a hint of pain. It was almost as painful as the first time, perhaps because it was your first time after giving birth. Fortunately, Marcus realised this immediately and was determined to give you as much pleasure as possible. And it worked perfectly. His amazing tongue found your nipples again, and as he pushed you towards the heights of pleasure, he pushed his full length against your walls. You both moaned with pleasure, digging your fingers into his back and wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing yourself against him, writhing for more.

"Damn," he growled. His hot breath licked your neck. He stroked your legs he thought about the nights he'd spent without you and for a moment he realised he almost regretted leaving you to go to the damn battle.

“Marcus, please, oh gods," you begged, as the sensations became almost painfully overwhelming and your body began to shake.

He pushed the thought aside and began thrusting. He watched your expression and thought maybe he could hurt you, but he didn't. The pain you felt was replaced by pleasure as you clenched down on him every time he entered you. He smiled and feeling blessed when you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, showering his face and neck with kisses. His desire for you increased double. He wanted to possess you, take you in every way that was humanly possible. He moved inside you, more roughly aware than he had ever been, you responded to him with a loud moan. He held you close, whispering in your ear beautiful and foul things and you giggled in response. He held you close, as if you weren't already close enough. He wrapped his arms around you as he picked up the pace and thrust harder and harder, and you began to bite and nibble on your lower lip as you felt him deeper inside you. His tongue licked your lips, parting them as if he wanted you to scream his name, and you dug your fingers into his flesh and did as he wished; screamed his name over and over. Your breath hit his collarbone, which served him to thrust deeper.

Your climax roars through, and you had trouble keeping your balance. When you thought you might pass out from the pleasure, you felt his smile, pressed into your neck, as his body collapsing into a quivering climax. Your voice was shaky as you moaned his name again, your limbs twitching and shuddering. He follows only a moment later, he cupped your cheeks in his hands, pushing your foreheads together. His brows tense, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth falls open, his breath showering your face all over. You just watched the sweat on his brow, listened to his breathy moans, stroked his shoulders all the way down to his arms. When he opened his eyes again, his hand came up to cover yours, planted a kiss in your palm.

There’s still a long way to go, but this was enough for now.

You both lay snuggled together on the bed for a while till your breathing became regular. Then Marcus got out of bed to retrieve the tray of food and place it on the bed. He then sat cross-legged on the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbow and reached for the tray to pick a few grapes. He reached out before you and picked the grapes and fed them to you. Then he began to eat his own food with great appetite, and you rested your head in your palm and watched him eat, admiring him.

"I see you must be very hungry, given that you left early this morning." You mumbled and placed your hand on his knee.

Marcus nodded as he chewed his morsel. "That's right, my lady. The soldiers who were supposed to be taking Elagabalus to Ostia hadn't returned. I sent some soldiers after them, which kept me a little busy."

You frowned. "I hope everything's alright."

"I hope so too, but that man..." He fed you another grape. "He's as annoying as Caracalla."

"So is Geta, isn't he? You used to find him annoying too, but I guess not anymore. You two are quite like brothers now." You smiled.

Marcus stopped chewing and stared. "I trust him in a weird way, although I do still have some misgivings about certain matters.”

You returned your gaze to the grape on the tray. "I was pretty mad at him for sending you to battle and not going himself as emperor, but turned out it was his cousin who caused it. He's trying to prove himself you know. He hasn't organised any games for a while too."

"That is not the only reason," Marcus said, taking a sip of his wine.

You looked at him. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. "I suggested him not to come. I thought it would be better for him to stay, and it was. When the Persian army and other troops realised they'd made a mistake, they hightailed it out of there without looking back. They weren't too keen on the Emperor's presence either."

You raised your eyebrows. "You didn't want him to leave? Ah, I shouted at him in vain then." You twisted your lips, feeling incredibly guilty.

Marcus grinned, shaking his cup. "You shouted at him? I wish I'd been there to see it."

You squinted at him. "Maybe if you'd told me in time I wouldn't have to do this. I'll make it up to him when I see him."

"No, you won't." His tone was sharp, not open to argument.

You squinted at him as he finished his wine. His commanding presence often turned you on. "He's my brother."

"And I'm your husband."

"So?" You gave him a bit of a tease.

He responded to your playful expression with a crooked smile.

"The duty of a wife to obey her husband's wishes and orders."

‘'That doesn't seem entirely fair. Then my husband should obey my wishes and orders too."

Marcus pushed the tray away and crawled towards you, his gaze holding yours with a steady intensity. He touched your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "Whatever you want from me, whatever you order, I'll do it, just say the word."

You looked at his lips. "Kiss me." You whispered.

He obeyed your order immediately. You smiled as you tasted the wine from his warm tongue, he broke the kiss and you licked his lips as you looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"It's my turn now," he said, and his eyes lit up with desire. "Turn round." He ordered.

When you realised his intentions, your heart began to beat rapidly with excitement and your cheeks were burning. The look on your face amused him.

"Get on your hands and knees," he said, gesturing to the bed with his eyes.

You did as he said, blushing even more at the thought of the view he was seeing. He had taken you in this position many times, yet each time you couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed. "Marcus?"

"Ssshh, relax my love.” He soothed you. “You have no idea how much I've missed this." He finally touched your asscheeks, squeezing your plump buttocks with his hands and your face flamed. You closed your eyes and bit your bottom lip as you felt his hot breath against your back.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips and dug his fingers into your flesh to steady you. He then leaned down and kissed your asscheeks and stroked your folds with his fingers, smiling himself when he felt your wet warmth in his palm and settled behind you. You propped yourself up on your elbows and raised your hips as his ever-present need caressed your folds. Since your walls were too slippery, he easily slid his now throbbing need into your warmth. "Oh," You moaned loudly, he cursed, accompanied by the slick sounds of his groin against your thigh with each thrust. The atmosphere of the room was filled with the pleasure and triumph of being reunited once more. You gripped the sheet tightly and squeezed your eyelids shut, letting out a muffled moan as he reached for your breasts, grabbing them and cupping them possessively. Roughly, he kept slamming into your buttocks again and again, giving you indescribable pleasure with each thrust. He kept up the rhythm, grabbing your hair in his hands and leaning down to kiss your neck, but you had bent forward without realising it. His other hand moved from between your breasts up to your collarbone, gently cupping your slender neck. It was as if he was going to strangle you, which was quite arousing, and he pulled you back towards him. You shuddered with pleasure as your slim back arched against his strong chest. His tongue traced a path from your earlobe down to your neck and shoulder. When you turned your head to look at him, he quickly found your lips and kissed you passionately.

He kept kissing you while pushing into you, and you kept pushing against his crotch. Then he touched your clit with his finger, making your stomach drop and building up until you were gasping, then he kept going and you were moaning loudly into his arm, which was wrapped around you.

After you came, Marcus picked up the pace even more, but not before gripping your hips more firmly, digging his finger into your flesh deeper, almost hurting you in the process.

You could tell he was about to climax by the way he started thrusting erratically, the way his arm muscles tensed and he grasped you so tightly that you were almost breathless, and how he leaned down to suck even bite your neck, burying his face in your hair and groaning loudly with his release.

He continued to thrust as he came, only stopped when he realise you'd thrown your head back against his shoulder to catch your breath. He reluctantly pulled out, his warm liquid running down your thighs and dripping onto the bed sheets. He grabbed the end of the sheet, and you stood still as he wiped your upper legs, thighs planting many kisses on your back before turning round. He cupped your face and turned it to his, reading your expression to see how he'd made you feel. He smiled. He then kissed your reddened cheeks and lips then made you lie back on the bed and lie next to you, his strength and effort spent. You sighed and curled up next to him, and he held you despite how sweaty he had become. He fell asleep after placing your - his princess’- head resting on his chest.

As the morning sun streamed into your room through the window, the birds outside were already up and about, filling the air with their cheerful songs. However what woke you up was that sound you still couldn't believe every time you heard it, the sound of your baby crying. You opened your eyes and tried to sit up, but you found that Marcus's arm was caging you, making it impossible to move. You turned your head to him and noticed that even though his eyes were closed, he still had considerable strength in his arm. He must have been tired, after all the exertion you'd done in the night but still. You smiled to yourself as you remembered those moments. You wanted to snuggle into him and get more sleep, but the baby must have been hungry, so you gently pushed Marcus' arm away and tried to get up, but he stirred in the bed and held you tighter.

“Marcus.”

“Hmm?”

"I really should get up."

He opened his eyes. "Why? Are you alright?" He asked sleepily.

"Can't you hear the noise?"

He frowned and listened. "Oh, right." And he released you and let you get up. "I should have got used to this by now."

You leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I need to feed him." You said and got up to check the floor.

"Looking for this?" Marcus smirked as he held up the piece of your tunic he had torn last night.

Your cheeks are a little flushed. "I suppose I'll have to put on another one."

As you walked over to the closet, he propped himself up on his elbow, examined the bits of food, wine stains and other things scattered on the bed. "We've made quite a mess, haven't we?"

You smiled as you got dressed. “But it was amazing."

Last night came back to you as you were tying the threads on the collar of your tunic. You weren't sure how many times he'd taken you last night, you'd lost count at some point.

“Indeed, it was.”

You were taken aback when you heard his voice just behind you. He embraced you from behind and kissed you on the cheek before you turned round.

"I'll tell them to prepare the bath," he said, wearing his tunic. He then opened the door to call out, Decima heard him and came in with Marcius in her arms who was crying incessantly. Marcus took him carefully. "Are you hungry you little noisy one?"

You smiled as you watched the two of them and walked over to sit on the bed. Marcus placed him in your arms with care. He sat next to you on the bed, watching you intently. You touched your baby's upper lip with the nipple. He opened his mouth wide, then you brought him to the breast, and he started sucking with great appetite.

"I was planning to spend the whole day here with you, but I have to go to the barracks for a few hours in the afternoon."

"Is everything alright?"

He sighed. "Felix lost two fingers in the battle and is having trouble holding his sword. I need to talk to him and see what might be useful for him."

"I'm sorry about that."

"If he can wield his sword with his left hand, he'll be fine. We'll have to teach him, which will be difficult." He put his hand on your knee. "I want you to learn too."

"Sword? Me?" You frowned. "I've barely got used to the knife."

"You did well, though." He gave a little grin. "Would you like me to get a custom-made sword for you?"

You let out a sigh. "Like you'd back down if I said no. Fine, but I'm sure you'll give up on me at the first lesson."

He stood up and leaned towards you. "Continue to ignore how strong you are but I can see the truth, my lady." He kissed you adoringly on the lips. "I'll be waiting for you in the balneum. Feed our son and come." Then he kissed Marcius' little head tenderly before leaving the room.

After a relaxing bath and getting dressed together, you had a late breakfast in the courtyard. Then Cato arrived at the villa with some news. He was in a bit of a rush. Whatever the news was, Marcus left the villa with him in a hurry. Once they had departed, Norell put the baby to sleep, and you went to see Decima, who you realised had been upset all morning. You found her watering the flowers in the garden, seemingly lost in thought. Upon seeing you, she rose to her feet, giving you a faint smile.

"Decima, is something wrong?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Come on now, there's no need to hide it from me, I'm your friend."

She sighed deeply. "Octavius. He wants to marry me."

"Oh, Decima! That's wonderful!" Your smile faded. "But, why are you upset?"

"Because I am a slave." She bowed her head.

She was right, slaves weren't allowed to marry in Rome unless their master freed them.

"Domina!" one of the slaves called out, interrupting you.

You took Decima's hands. "We'll talk about this later. I will tell Marcus all about this when he returns."

She nodded and hugged you.

“My Lady.”

You turned and looked in that direction and saw it was just one of the slaves. "My lady, Emperor Geta has arrived!"

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but you were pleased, and a smile spread across your face as you walked into the courtyard. Geta was sitting on the lectus, adjusting the shawl he'd wrapped around his arm. When he saw you, he stood up and came over to give you a hug.

"How are you, sister?' I've really missed you and my nephew."

"We have missed you too. He's currently asleep, so please have a seat. I'll bring him to you when he wakes up."

Geta sat down, crossed his legs and adjusted his shawl again. "Actually, I don't have much time."

You asked the slaves to fill his cup with wine.

"Have things got complicated in the palace again? With a mother full of intrigue, it would be more surprising if it hadn't." You said, picking up your cup and sitting down opposite him.

"It's been that way since I was born, I can assure you. My mother likes to boss me around and now she's obsessed with getting me wed, which is getting on my nerves."

"I have to be honest, I don't like Julia, but I have to say I agree with her on this one. To be a powerful emperor you must have an heir-"

"I'm not going to marry, sister!" He and you both surprised at how loud his voice had been, but when he looked at you again, his face was soft. "There's still time."

"As you wish."  You said, murmuring. "But think about it."

He gave a little smile. "I'll do it for you." Then he let out a sigh. "I was easier when Caracalla's around. It was his turn. I wish it hadn't ended like this. I do miss our brother, sometimes. I loved him, you know, despite everything he did."

'Was that why you didn't get his face removed from the denarius and the imperial banners? And of course, from the armour of the Praetorians."

Geta grinned, "You wouldn't believe it, but it was to avoid unnecessary expense." He sipped his wine.

"That's really strange coming from you."

"I made a promise, sister. It's one of the things I have to do to look after my people and make Rome a better place."

"I'm proud of you," you said with a smile.

He stared at you with wide eyes and then looked away and sighed. "So..." He put his glass on the table and stood up. "I'm going to walk the streets, see how people are doing, starting with the Poorhouse, though it looks more like an insula now."

"I've heard about the improvements you've made there. I'm glad you did. Those people should be grateful to you."

"More for you, they ask about you every time I visit there."

It's been a while since I've been there.  You suddenly realised it would be a good idea to join him. "Can I come with you?”

His honey-coloured eyes sparkled. "Brilliant idea!" He clapped his hands. "Let's get going then.’" He stood up but you grabbed his arm.

"Wait, I have to put on my stola first," you said, turning towards the stairs.

"Don't keep the Emperor waiting too long!" he shouted after you.

Upon his arrival at the barracks, Marcus was met with an unexpected sight. One of the soldiers who had been sent after Elagabalus had unfortunately sustained a shoulder injury and was resting on the ground. His childhood friend Darius, who had become commander of the Praetorians, was standing next to him. Marcus dismounted his horse and approached him at a brisk pace.

Darius inclined his head respectfully, "General."

Marcus nodded back, his gaze fixed on his injured soldier. He then summoned Octavius to his side. "What happened to him?"

"Sir, he said they were attacked and there was a skirmish. He was hit by an arrow and barely escaped alive.

"Elagabalus?"

Octavius shook his head in the negative.

"Acacius, I would like to speak with you in private."

He looked at Darius. "Follow me." He turned to the others. "You get him to medicus now!”

Octavius and Darius followed him up to his room.

"How did this happen? Any word from the other soldiers?"

"Not yet, sir. There's no sign of them or Elagabalus, and he hasn't boarded the ship."

He frowned and crossed his arms. "Tell them to look everywhere, in every street. If he's hiding, they'll find him."

"My men are already on it," Darius said. "However, that's not what we need to be discussing. I wanted to run this by you before I tell Emperor Geta."

"How do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "The ones from Leptis Magna, I know you don't trust them because they are loyal to Empress Domna, and neither do I. When you went to war, I had them all followed and we learned something I needed to confirm. It turns out that Elagabalus wasn't just meeting with members of the senate in secret. He's actually a lot more dangerous than we thought."

"What is it you want to confirm? I don't follow."

"He had someone kidnapped that night while we caught them red-handed."

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"A slave girl. I didn't understand why they would kidnap a slave girl until I saw her and the child."

"Did you say a child?"

"Yes, a boy.” He said in a bit of a suggestive way.

Octavius and Marcus exchanged glances, now it all made sense.

"This girl, or… Octavius, didn't you say that time you saw that girl die?"

"Yes, sir, she was badly wounded. The guards took her to the other dead slaves because she was dead."

Darius interjected. "General, I spoke to the girl and she said that you and Lady Aurelia know her and would believe her."

Marcus nodded. "That girl saved Princess Aurelia's life." He felt a shudder as he remembered that time. He was aware of the close relationship between you and that girl. "Take her and the child to Palatine Hill at once, I will accompany you."

"The Emperor is not at the palace right now, Acacius. He wanted to visit the Poorhouse."

Marcus looked at him angrily. "It's not safe for him to be out when Elagabulus is around." He hissed. "You make sure the girl and the child are safe. Octavius and I will take Geta to the palace.”

Darius nodded and left in a hurry.

"Do you really think that child is Geta's?" Octavius asked.

"I think so. Why else would they want to kidnap an ordinary slave girl? Geta needs to know about all this. Help me get my armour on so we can go find him."

Octavius seemed to be dwelling on the word 'ordinary slave girl'. He was lost in thought. He was thinking about his slave girl.

"Octavius! Didn’t you hear me?" His General's loud voice brought him to his senses. "Yes, sir!"

Marcus observed his face as he put his armour on him. "You're distracted. I want to know why."

He tied the strings of his armour. "There's nothing to worry about, sir."

Marcus touched his shoulder, stopping him. "I'm not asking you this as your General, I'm asking as your friend."

"I appreciate it, Acacius. But could we talk later? Geta's situation is more urgent at the moment."

"Later... Very well, then.”

The Imperial Carriage came to a halt on a street close to the poorhouse. During your and Geta's walks accompanied by the guards, the people greeted you with great interest and affection. You remembered how it was when you first came to Rome. There were lots of people in the streets who were hungry and looked poor. But now there were hardly any destitute people on the street. You were pleased to see this for yourself. People seemed more hopeful and happy. They were greeting their emperor, who they had previously disliked, with affection. But there was one thing everyone could agree on: they loved their princess and their hero, the general himself, much more. As one of them approached you, the guards were alerted, but he only wanted to give you flowers. You smiled at him as you took the flower, and then you noticed someone in the crowd wearing a cloak. You thought he looked like someone you used to know, but that was impossible. When you looked again, he wasn't there. Probably someone who looked like him, you thought to yourself.

"They look happy, don't they?" Geta's question distracted your thoughts for a moment, but you still had the feeling that you were being watched.

"Yes, they do."

"So, do you think they'll be happier if I get some new games organised at the Colosseum soon?"

"I'm surprised you lasted this long," you said with a laugh, your eyes still roaming the crowd.

"Your husband, Acacius, wasn't keen on organising any post-war victory celebrations or games," he said, pursing his lips. "However, the good news is that our budget is in good shape, so we can finally have our long-overdue celebration and get the games organised. Don't say you won't attend. I'd really like you to be there with me. You know, the seat next to me is yours."

You nodded, looking at his eyes, which seemed a little curious. "I'll be there brother."

As you made your way to the Poorhouse courtyard, the crowd thinned out. "Brother... Acacius said you wanted to go to the war too, but he said that he stopped you."

"Did he?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to accuse you, forgive me."

"I'll only forgive you if you do one thing." He looked at you mischievously.

You rolled your eyes. "No."

"But I haven't told you what I want yet."

You sighed. "Well, what is it?"

He leaned down to your ear, trying hard not to laugh. "One kiss."

You squinted at him. ‘See? I guessed the answer before you asked."

"On the cheek, I mean."

"Still no.”

He laughed again, clearly amused. "Acacius doesn't need to know."

"Oh, you're like a child. Cut it out." You said angrily, picking up the pace. You soon left him behind.

"Forgive me, sister, don't hate me!" He quickened his pace, trying to keep up with you.

Marcus was right, you shouldn't have told him about it. He didn't mean any harm, but he did show a bit too much interest in you, which could easily be misinterpreted from the outside.

As soon as the children saw you, they ran over and gathered around you. They were really happy and called you by name. You smile at them and take a quick look around to see what changes have been made. It had been a while since you'd been here, and now everything looked clean and well-organised. It was now a more liveable place. People, men and women alike, were delighted to see you again. They congratulated you on your baby, and you thanked them. Even their clothes were like ordinary people now, and it made you sad to think of how they used to be. Then you saw a man standing in the corner who looked a bit unwell. It wasn't just him, there were a few others too. While Geta was chatting with the children, you checked on them, examining them as a medicus. Even though they weren't poor anymore, they weren't wealthy enough to afford a medic. Some were working in the fields, some were porters, and some were chronically ill. After examining a few people, another person came to the end of the queue. He was wearing a cloak, and you couldn't see his face. You wrapped the hand of the woman next to him with bandages, and it was his turn. There was no visible sign of any injury. In fact, he seemed quite well built and healthy.

"You don't appear to be unwell or injured. Let me see your face."

He did as you said pushing his hood back. As soon as you saw his face you froze, the bandages and the medicine vial you were holding fell to the ground.

"It's been a long time, Aya."

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise. You were so taken aback that you were momentarily unable to respond. After all, it was him, standing right there, looking at you with his blue eyes, smiling at you as he always did.

You shook your head to regain your composure and looked at his face once more.

“Hanno?"

Yes, I know you are surprised and you are probably thinking that Lucius came too, yes and no. He is not the Lucius we know as the Roman prince from the movie, I just added him as Hanno, a friend of Aurelia from Egypt. You will see the details in the next chapter, thanks for reading!

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[heramj]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XVI. Separation and Triumph (+18, Smut, MDNI)

"Amor vincit omnia."

Love conquers all.

“Domina!”

They called out to you cheerfully as you got out of the carriage and ran towards Norell and Decima. They were running towards you too. You embraced them with tears in your eyes and walked into the courtyard together. Marcus noticed Octavius, who was waiting at the entrance with a smile on his face. He was the one who took care of everything until your arrival. Marcus tapped his friend on the shoulder and invited him inside. You saw Tullia in the courtyard, gave her a hug too. Even though she was a bit hesitant due to respect as was her custom, she hugged you back.

Everyone was delighted to be home. That evening, you suggested having dinner together in the courtyard, with everyone else included. This was definitely the first time anyone had seen an evening like this in the villa. It was certainly not a common occurrence in other villas or houses in Rome. However, the slaves were still shy, understandably so, given the unusual situation. If they told anyone on the street, it is likely that no one would believe them. Nevertheless, it was true. You saw them as family, not just as slaves, and they had a lot of respect and admiration for you.

On that particular evening, you managed to surprise Marcus once more. He was continually amazed at your capacity for compassion, and mercy. Throughout the meal, he was unable to take his eyes off you. He thought you were so stunning that it felt as if you could only be a dream yet you were there, by his side. You were a blessing to him, not just a person, a miracle that he woke up to every morning.

After dinner, you checked out the renovated and refurbished parts of the villa together. The courtyard was bigger and there was a private resting area right next to the fountain. It also seemed like a great spot for when you have guests over too. You headed back to your chambers as it was getting dark. You were really pleased with the new look of your room. Marcus's armour and other dangerous items were taken to the next room. A small mattress and a closet were added. This wasn't the only change.

The bed was wider and more comfortable, with drapes and a canopy. The tulle around the bed was tied with ribbons and had floral ornaments. It was clear that it had been prepared carefully. The rest of the room was pretty much the same, with the desk, small dining table, and clothes section. As your belly was getting bigger every day, your old tunics were a bit tight, especially at the waist. While Marcus took off his red shawl, you checked the measurements of all your tunics. It was clear that you wouldn't fit into any of them soon.

Marcus took off his belt and looked you over from head to toe. "If you're not sure what to wear, I can give you some advice."

You smiled without looking at him. “I already know what you're going to say."

“Are you reading my mind?” He asked. "Well..." He was moving slowly towards you. “What is on my mind at the moment, princess?” He wrapped his arms around you. It was pretty obvious what he was thinking, given that you could feel him right behind your hips. You turned your head and touched his nose with yours.

“I think, you want me?”

“That's so true.” His thick fingers ran through your hair and inhaled your scent. “So, where do I want you? Any guesses?”

"Hmm, on our new bed?"

He turned you around and put his hands on your hips, making you gasp. “And right beneath me.” He said, breathing heavily.

You threw your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes, your heart racing with excitement. "Should I tell you where I want you, too?"

He smirked, leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. "Tell me, my love." Another kiss on the corner of your lips. "Where do you want me?" One more kiss on your neck. "Say it." and another kiss, this time on the collarbone, sending shivers of delight down your spine with each warm kiss.

You pulled his head closer and whispered in his ear with a seductive smile on your lips. "I want you deep inside me."

And before you knew it, you were in his arms, gasping as the ground gave way beneath your feet.

"Whatever my princess wants." He said as he carried you to the bed. You crawled across the middle of the bed. "At your service, my lady." He grinned and you swayed a little with the jolt of his weight as he crawled onto the bed towards you.

"I realise the bed is bigger now, was that necessary?" You asked, your voice filled with playful teasing.

Marcus gripped the hem of your tunic as you ran your hand along the silk sheet, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"You didn't like it? I thought we might be able to move on the wide bed more easily." He said, helping you out of the tunic and taking you by the waist. He pulled you in closer and together you rolled to the other side of the bed, with you now on top of him. "Like this, for instance. Or..." He grabbed you again and this time you rolled to the other end of the bed. This time he was on top of you. "Like this."

You giggled. "I think I understand your point." You reached out your arms to remove his tunic, and once he was free of it, he grasped your legs and drew you closer to him. His gaze shifted from humorous to predatory as he gazed at your exposed body. You felt like his prey, and your heart beat faster as his eager hands slid slowly from your ankles to your legs and then to your thighs. Marcus pressed his lips hungrily against yours and tension hummed between the two of you as your lips touched. 

Tasting the wine he'd just drunk and rolled your tongue around his. You were holding back a little from drinking wine since you were carrying a child, but you realised that you missed the taste. Your enthusiastic movements in his mouth had only served to heighten his arousal. He was filled with excitement and pleasure, an interesting mix that would lead to him taking you roughly. He rubbed his need against your pearl, you were slick as he teased your entrance with the smooth wide tip of his length. He kissed you as he pushed himself inside you. The two of you moaned into the kiss, you were mewling as his length hit your inner back wall. Backing off the kiss to let you catch your breath, he then began to pull out and thrust back into you. Your tight wet warmth surrounded him as he thrust and pulled inside you. He held your hands in his own, pinning you to the bed as he kept thrusting his hips back and forth, slowly picking up speed. Rolling his hips in that way he knew you loved, the two of you started panting and moaning louder.

"Marcus," you said breathlessly. "Deeper, please."

"As you wish, my love." He hummed.

You gasped as you felt him lift your legs up to get a more direct angle into you. His hips picked up speed, driving into you harder. Your legs dangled in the air as he pounded into you, and you moaned loudly. He set one of your legs back down, straightening up his back as he lifted the other one over his shoulder. Your hips began bucking in time with his own. You looked at him, staring into his dark brown eyes as felt some kind of raw wave of pleasure course through your body. Setting your leg back down, he resumed his earlier stance over you, his one arm grabbed you around the waist. You knew from that move that he was close, so you were. His mouth found yours once more. You moaned into his mouth, lost in the mess of love and pleasure you two shared.

"What do you want me to do now, my love?" He asked huskily. He could feel himself beginning to tighten up as his body built up to release.

"Fill me in…” You panted. “With your love,” your breath hit against his collarbone which spurred his on, making him thrust harder and harder into you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your arms following suit around his back to pull him closer. His chest pressing against your breasts, he gave several more hard thrusts before finally stopping. You both hit your climaxes at once, he was filling you with his seed, and you could feel it all build up within you as you rode your own pleasure out. He kissed your breasts as he felt your rapid heart racing against your ribcage.

After a few minutes, your breath began to settle. Marcus leaned in and kissed you. One of your hands moved up to behind his head, while the other ran his back up and down. When he pulled out of you and broke the kiss, you let out another moan. He looked down and smiled to see some of his seed trickling out of you. You rolled over, and he rested his head on the pillow while you curled into him to listen to his heartbeat slow down. You ran your fingers over his bare chest while you were at it. You lay there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in your bliss. His scent on your skin, the taste of him in your mouth and his warm seed still floating in the very center of your womanhood, all of it show that you were conquered by him. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of belonging to him in every part of your body. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, then drew the silk sheets up, covering you both. Your eyelids were already closing as you rested your head on his chest, feeling safe and loved. The last thing you felt before drifting off to sleep was his lips moving slowly over your head.

The sun came up over the horizon in a beautiful, graceful arc, bathing the sky in a kaleidoscope of colours as the day began. The villa was illuminated by the sun's rays, which brought about a striking contrast to the previous days' gloom. The villa had been quite deserted, ruined and abandoned in the past few days. However, as of this morning, it was evident that it was waking up to better days than its former ones, as sounds began to spread out of its courtyard. The sense of comfort and peace at leaving those difficult days behind was starting to spread throughout this large house.

The same tranquil atmosphere was also present in your bedroom. The mornings you woke up in the villa were quite noisy but peaceful and full of life, unlike the ones at Domus Severiana, which were boring, quiet and full of intrigue. You smile as you listen to all those sounds you've missed. The cheerful rooster, the birds singing outside the window, the light footsteps coming from the courtyard, indicating the slaves were getting started with their day, and of course, the breathing of the man you loved lying next to you. You wanted to enjoy these morning sounds for a while longer, but as soon as you felt Marcus's warm lips on your sternum, you opened your eyes.

Looking down, you noticed his grey curly hair, and reach out to run your fingers through it. He looked up at you with a mischievous expression on his face.

"Morning," you said, yawning.

"Morning indeed. Since my sun rose from her sleep now." He kissed your chin and made you giggle. Your heartbeat quickened as his lips traveled down from your chin to your neck and down to your collarbone. You slid your fingers from his hair to the nape of his neck. He propped himself up on his elbow on the bed and slowly slid the back of his hand from between your breasts to your navel, pulling down the sheet covering your body to expose your entire body. His hasty lips met yours and he ran a hand over your knees, slipping his fingers between them as you immediately spread your legs for him. It was your body's classic response to his magic touch. A little hastily he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. Positioning himself between your legs and fondling your entrance with his thick fingers, you bit your lower lip in pleasure.

"Hmm, so ready for me," he grinned then he slid his length deep inside you, making you moan loudly. You watched him as he licked your wetness off his thumb, then his lips, relishing every second of the taste. He then leaned towards you and met your mouth again. The gentle breeze from the window blew the tulle around the bed towards you, but you were too caught up in the moment to pay attention to it. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as he made glorious thrusts into your most sensitive spot, taking you to the heights of raw pleasure.

He pulled his hips back and grabbed yours just as he was coming out of you, adjusted himself, and thrust again, this time going deeper inside you. This sends waves of pleasure through your body with each movement. You were on the brink, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Your fingers scratching around his neck was driving him wild. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you roughly to him and sat on his heels on the bed. As you wrapped your legs around his waist, a wave of mind-blowing pleasure swept over your whole body. You felt like you were seeing your surroundings in a yellowish filter, and you were sure it wasn't the sunlight filtering into the room. As you let out a loud moan, he buried his head in your collarbone and let out a roar against your neck, sucking and nibbling at your flesh as you felt him bless you with his hot liquid. You both stayed like that for a while with your eyes closed, panting. As your breathing settled down, you could hear the sounds from outside again which brought you back to reality. He put his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes, you giggled at each other and then he laid you back down.  He slowly came out of you, and you made a sound like mewling. He smirked and kissed your cheek. You watched as he picked up his white tunic from the floor and put it on, waiting for your breathing to return to normal. He got out of bed and walked to the door, ordering the slaves to bring breakfast for you. Then he approached you and pulled the sheet over your body.

"Get some rest until breakfast arrives, my love," he smiled, turned, and walked over to his desk.

You sat up in bed to see what he was doing. He sat down and took some papers from the drawer.

"I suppose the General of Rome doesn't get much rest."

He replied with a smile as he picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink. "I need to let my legates and the legion in the south know what's been going on recently."

"I see. Then you will go to the Field of Mars to send the message, won't you?" You asked.

"Yes, my lady. I will." He replied as he wrote it.

You got out of bed and went to the closet to get some clean clothes. He gave you a quick glance as you wore your cream tunic. Then you slowly approached Marcus. You sat down in the chair opposite his desk and picked up the seal of Legion III with the Pegasus symbol on it. He looked at you and sighed.

"But it's so hard," he murmured. You looked at him, not understanding what he meant. "I can't concentrate with you sitting across from me, looking so beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed and put your hand over your face. "Should I cover my face like this then?"

He smiled, "Give me a minute," he said before writing the last line and rolling the paper. Then he took your hand, and placed a kiss on it. "Do you want to seal it?"

"Can I really do it?"

"Of course you can, my love." Without letting go of your hand, he made you walk around the table and sat you on his lap. He broke a small piece of sealing wax that he placed in a spoon put above the flame of the oil lamp. While he waited for it to melt, he looked at you, locking his eyes on yours. But he didn't seem to notice that his hand had slipped touching the flame.

"Marcus, you're going to burn your hand," you said anxiously, grabbing his hand. But he was still looking at you, with those brown eyes. "I'm already burning," he said in a deep voice. "And your hair is my fire," His fingers ran through your hair. "Your love is driving me mad. I can't take my eyes off you."

You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. He kissed you back passionately. He then poured the melting wax on the place where he had closed the letter, took your hand that was holding the seal and guided you to press the seal.

“Why Pegasus?” You asked.

He turned your hand so that you were both looking at the seal now. “It's because, he is primarily associated with bravery, success in battle, protection, duty, and commitment. He was also born from Medusa's blood.” He explained and kissed your palm, then your wrist, your arm, and your shoulder, which made you laugh. And then he kissed your lips, but the kiss was interrupted by a knock at the door.

That was Norell. She'd brought your breakfast to the room with a smile. You smiled back and had a quick chat then she left the room. After breakfast, you helped Marcus get dressed. As he did yesterday, he was going to wear his white tunic today. You placed the red shawl over his shoulders and fastened it with a big brooch pin at the collar. Then you left the room together and went downstairs. You saw Octavius and Decima chatting at the entrance to the courtyard. He wasn't wearing his armour today either. They both noticed you and nodded. Then he went to the stables to get the horses.

"Is Cato still in the Field of Mars?" you asked Marcus, as you both looked after Octavius.

Yes, he's with the other wounded soldiers. I've given them all the day off today. I might be back early this evening since there won't be any training."

"Are they going to be alright?"

"Hope so. We've got five medici there. I'm not sure if they're as good as you, though." He gave a little smile.

"I can come and check them if you need me."

His expression suddenly changed. "You want me to take you among hundreds of men? Not a chance." His voice was firm.

You rolled your eyes. He took your hand, and his expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "You're my medicus, so you can only heal me."

"But that seems a little selfish, General."

"I'm a bit selfish when it comes to you," he said with a little smile.

You gave him a smile in return.

Then you heard a horse neigh, and you both looked in that direction. Marcus's face lit up when Octavius brought Dromos over to him. Marcus stepped towards him and Dromos reared up and let out a loud whinny.

"I missed you too, old friend," said Marcus, stroking his face. Then he got on his horse, grabbed the reins, looking at you. "My lady, I'm leaving now."

"Come back safe." You said, waving your hand.

He nodded with a smile and gave Dromos a nudge forward. Octavius mounted his horse too, and nodded to you before riding after him. As they rode away, their long red shawls fluttered gently in the wind, mixed with the dust from the roadway.

That afternoon, when you were sitting in the courtyard with Decima and Norell, you talked about all the things that had transpired. You also talked about what Caracalla did, how Flavius came close to killing you, and how Macrinus almost caused disaster in Rome. They also told you about the days they spent as were detained and imprisoned. You felt a little down as you talked about those unfortunate days.

"Fortunately, your child is really strong," Decima said, putting her hand on your belly. You put your hand on hers and smiled at her.

"He's as strong as his father," Norell said, smiling.

You exhaled. "Oh, how I've missed talking to you, girls! I've really missed sitting together like this with you."

"We've missed you too," Decima said.

"We have been hoping and praying for your wellbeing and that of the child, as well as the general’s."

“Domina!”

You looked at the slave who was calling out to you and smiled. "I even missed you calling me out in this way," you said, laughing. The girls joined in with your laughter. But when you saw the slave's smile fade, yours did too.

"Is something wrong?"

"A carriage just arrived."

You raised your eyebrows. "Or is it my brother?"

The slave shook his head as no. You frowned and stood up.

And then two women you had never seen before entered the courtyard, one of whom appeared to be quite elderly, while the other seemed to be of a similar age to you. You could tell from their clothes that they weren't just ordinary people. Before you even had a chance to ask anything, they both looked at you with surprise and then the older woman came over to you with her arms outstretched and gave you a hug. Then the other woman gave you a hug too. Decima Norell and the other slaves in the courtyard were looking at you with curious eyes.

The older woman stepped back and looked you in the face. She was crying and sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Aurelia Marciana! You have grown into a beautiful young lady! I am so pleased to see you are alive! My sweet and lovely niece!" She touched your hair gently, her eyes brimming with tears.

You were taken aback. "You referred to me as your niece?" 

She nodded. "I am Antonia Marciana, your mother Paccia Marciana's sister."

"You... are... my aunt?" Your voice cracked. You didn't even know you had a relative on your mother's side – it was a complete surprise.

"I am, my dear. This is my daughter Paulina here, your cousin," the woman next to her took your hand and you smiled at her. "As soon as we heard that you were alive, we set off for Rome, but unfortunately, we learned that our relatives including your father's, had been killed by your half-brother, so we decided to head back. Fortunately, that tyrant is dead so we were able to come here to meet you."

You wiped away your tears and invited them to have a seat. "I imagine you've had quite a journey. I'll get them to prepare you some food." You said, and looked at Decima and Norell who nodded and made their way to the kitchen.

"It was a long journey indeed. My feet are a bit worn out from carrying my old body," Antonia said as she sat down on the lectus with her daughter's help. "You really look just like her, your mother. My poor sister left us before she had enough of you. She loved you so much. You were everything to her."

As she talked about your mother, you started to cry again, your heart ached.

“Even it was not enough, we thought we had lost you. All of your relatives, myself included, grieved for many years thanks to your father. But thank the Gods you are alive now. Is it true you've been in Egypt all this time?" She held out her hand to you, beckoning you to come over.

You sat down next to her and cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, I lived there without even knowing who I was."

"Septimus, that cruel man. I'll never forgive him for sending you away like that. I think it was all down to his new wife and his spoilt sons. After your mother passed away, I wanted to take you with me to Leptis Magna, but your father wouldn't let me." She took your hand in hers.  "But somehow you ended up back in Rome. I'm relieved that those brothers of yours didn't do anything to you. We were surprised to learn that you were here and not in the palace, and we were even more surprised and worried when we heard that you were married. We would have loved to make it to the wedding, but it seems it all rather quickly." She said as if she was asking you.

You gave a little smile. "It all happened pretty quickly yes, but it's great that you're here now. I'm really pleased to meet you."

They smiled back in return. The slaves brought the food to the table and left. Your aunt leaned in, and held your hand.

"Aurelia, dear, I was a bit concerned when I heard you'd married a soldier, a Roman General." She spoke in a low voice, almost as if she were whispering. “Or did those evil twins force you to marry him? What was his name again?"

"General Acacius," you said at once. "But no, not them. I wanted to marry the general of my own free will.”

Your aunt pursed her lips. "I mean, you're a princess after all. Besides, I heard that he's a bit old for you."

"Mother, please," Paulina said with a little whine.

She ignored her. "Is he kind to you? I'd love to know if he's a good husband. Does he fulfill all your needs?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Um, yes, aunt Antonia. He's a kind person and a great husband. I am beyond happy with him. Besides, age is just a number, isn't it?"

"Oh, your eyes just light up when you talk about him. Right, Paulina?"

"Indeed mother. I get the impression that she is very much in love with her husband." She said with a warm smile.

You smiled back, blushing again.

"I'm so delighted to see you happy, my dear." She said sincerely. "Now, I'm relieved."

While you were answering their questions about your marriage, they ate their meal. You were somewhat taken aback at how swiftly you became accustomed to them, but it was truly a pleasure getting to know someone who was your relative, particularly your mother's sister. Apparently, they'd returned to Rome after living in Leptis Magna for many years, and they mentioned that Paulina's husband was planning to stand for election as a member of the senate in the new reign, which would mean that you would see them more often. 

Three months later…

The last few months have been pretty busy for everyone. Geta's decision to raise the pay of the legions has led to a significant increase in the number of people applying to join. Marcus was shuttled from the Field of Mars to the barracks. All in all, when he returned in the evening, he was tired, but he still couldn't resist burying himself between your thighs and breasts. Your belly bump is certainly bigger, since the due date is just around the corner in two or three months. Your appetite had recently increased, and Marcus was certain it was because the child you were carrying was going to be strong. Your aunt and cousin Paulina were now living in the villa since her husband had become a member of the Senate. You and Marcus went to visit them once, and they got on well. But now it is difficult and tiring for you to travel so much. Marcus didn't want you to go anywhere unless you had to. Everyone at the villa was more attentive to you than ever before, trying their best to fulfill your every wish. Once a week, a midwife, selected with great care by your aunt, would come to check on you. She said that you were doing well, that the child was healthy, and that everything appeared to be fine.

Towards the end of that month, however, circumstances forced the first prolonged separation from Marcus. The army that Macrinus had secretly deployed and left behind in the vicinity of Syria had overstepped its bounds when it received the latest news and decided to cooperate with the Sasanian dynasty in attacking Roman troops in the south. When the southern legions reported this to Marcus, he thought it best to go there and repel them. With the approval of the Senate and Geta, the date of departure was set.

That evening, it seemed like sadness had taken over the villa. After dinner with Marcus, he helped you sit on the edge of the bed. The baby started kicking, as it always did after dinner. He was kneeling beside you, trying to feel the baby's kicks with his hand above your belly.

"He's a fighter," he murmured with a smile. "Don't give your mother any difficulty while I'm away, would you?" He rubbed your belly.

"What if you don't make it to the birth?" you asked, pursing your lips.

He looked up at you and kissed you on the belly before sitting down next to you. He took your hands in his.

"It's still two months away. I think I'll be back by then. Even if I don't, I'm certain you'll manage, my love."

"Could you perhaps consider not going? I believe there may be someone else who could serve as general and potentially prevail against them. Am I mistaken?"

He touched your cheek. "There is no qualified commander who knows this region as thoroughly as I do yet there is no time to choose someone to do anyway. It has to be me, my love. The soldiers in my legion in the south are like brothers to me. How can I sit here while they are out there fighting with everything they have?”

You bowed your head and couldn't stop your tears, which dripped down your cheek and into his hand. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and gave you a kiss on the temple. "I promise you, my princess, I will be back to you safe and sound. Besides, they say, separation makes love grow and strengthen."

You felt your heartache as you looked at his face. "My heart is always longing for you, even if you're just a short distance away."

He smiled. "No matter how far I go, I'm always with you, do not forget that."

You placed his hand on your chest. "My only consolation will be the dream of you touching me again. So touch me in such a way that it would be the only thing that will keep me strong in your absence.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips to yours, and a complex emotion, a blend of passion and sadness, swept over your entire body. You tilted your head back ever so slightly to catch your breath, and his lips traced a path to your neck while your fingers ran possessively through his grey curls. Your heart was racing as he quickly undressed you and then himself. Still sitting on the end of the bed, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Given the size of your belly, this position seemed more appropriate.  He kissed your breasts, and you bent your knees and sat on his lap with his hands on your hips. He kissed you again and entered you needily, which made you both let out a moan of pleasure. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts brushing against his chest. He supported your back with one hand and started thrusting deeply into you, lifting you on his lap and thrusting again and again. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was the last time and full of love. Your hot breaths, loud moans, love, and sorrow filled the room, creating a memory worth remembering as your bodies merged perfectly.

The morning was overcast as if the sadness in you had turned into dark clouds and covered the whole sky. As you helped Marcus put on his armour, you tried to hold back your tears, to be strong, but you were about to fail. However, you didn't want him to remember you as sad, so you did your best to suppress your feelings and try to smile as much as possible. He kissed you one last time before leaving the room. There was so much in that kiss, passion, love, sorrow and a vow to return. Everyone in the villa seemed a bit down as they followed you outside. Marcus looked at you one last time before mounting his horse. He was wearing his long red shawl over his armour and his galea (helmet) in his hand. Instinctively you moved closer to him. He rubbed your belly, then took your hand and kissed it with his eyes closed. Then he opens his eyes and looks into yours.

"I promise you, my lady, I will return in triumph."

You nodded. "May the Gods watch over you and bring each soldier home safely. Rome victrix."

"Rome victrix." He repeated and then mounted his horse.

Your eyes filled with tears that you had been holding back. You watched them until they disappeared from sight with Octavius, and finally, all the feelings you had been suppressing started to come out. Decima embraced you as you sobbed. You stood there together for a while, and all the slaves gathered around to calm you down. The sky rumbled with thunder and soon it began to rain as if to accompany your crying.

One month later…

The days were tough, but you got through them somehow.  During that time, you sent Marcus lots of letters. But you had to keep them short since they were travelling by pigeon. You had mentioned the cool, rainy days in your letters. You had said the midwife was coming in once or twice a week and that the baby was doing well, that it was getting big enough to keep you awake at night.

In his last letter Marcus wrote that the army had managed to repel the initial assault, but the situation remained fluid and the prospect of conflict was now a distinct possibility. He did not write to you as frequently as you did, but you could imagine how busy he was, so you waited patiently. That evening you wrote him another letter, not knowing if it would reach him. It was the only way to stay strong, to hold on. It made you feel like you were talking to him.

“My husband, my love, my brave general, owner of my heart. Every minute, every hour, every day, every breath I take without you is like torture. My only consolation is our child growing inside me. The midwife says it's now less than a month before the birth, and our son must be looking forward to coming, but I try to calm him down by telling him to wait for his father. I hope you will return to us soon, my love. In your absence, things are different. I can't taste the food I eat or smell the flowers I smell the same way I used to. Everything feels incomplete without you. I miss you so much. I am praying that you will come back to me safely. Your Aurelia.”

The next day, after breakfast, you decided to go downstairs and visit Unio in the stables. You were looking forward to riding on her back again. You thought of Marcus as you stroked her silky pearl-white mane. You thought of him all the time anyway, and everything reminded you of him. You felt a bit down, and Unio nudged you with his nose and whinnied as if he wanted to cheer you up.

“Domina!”

You looked over at the voice calling you, and one of the slaves came running over. Decima was right behind him, looking worried.

“My lady, Emperor Geta.”

“Not again, please.”

Over the past few weeks, you've been feeling resentful towards your brother Geta, turning down all of his requests. Every week he sent you a letter to read and a carriage to take you to him, but you never wanted to meet up with him. You had a good reason for that, though. But today was different. You were surprised to see a lectica (palanquin) outside the door, which was usually used for short distances.

One of the guards approached you and nodded. "Princess, Emperor Geta is awaiting you. He said you would be more comfortable if we took you to him this way."

It was actually more comfortable than the carriage. There wasn't much risk of shaking, but the distance between Palatine Hill and the villa was quite a long way.

"But this way you'll be pretty tired," you said, looking at the slaves.

"They're used to carrying people who weigh more than you over longer distances," the guard explained.

"It's an honour to carry our princess," said one of them.

They all looked at you with a reassuring gaze.

"Emperor Geta has entrusted you to us, please let us carry you."

You agreed to put an end to this nonsense that happens every week.

Decima came to you, "I will accompany you."

"I can't let you walk all that way." You protested.

"Please, my lady. I cannot send you there alone."

"She's right, my lady. Let her come with you." Tullia approached you. "At least it will give me some relief."

You sighed. "Very well," you said and sat on the lectica with Decima's help. The slaves slowly lifted you up.

"Be careful with our princess!" Tullia gave them a firm warning. It was a strange feeling, being carried all that way on the shoulders of slaves. You couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, but they didn't seem to be having any difficulty.

Upon your arrival at Palatine Hill at noon, you were pleased to find the travel to be quite comfortable. The slaves were looking well and showed no signs of fatigue. They lowered you carefully and gave you a hand getting out. You thanked them and walked towards Domus Severiana, accompanied by Decima and the guards. You suddenly realised how much you'd missed the place. After all, you and Marcus had many memories here too. You smiled to yourself, no matter where you went, it felt like his memories were right there with you, following you like a shadow. You first visit the tomb with Decima, to pay your respects to your father before heading to the great hall. Once you were back in the courtyard, you asked Decima to find out where Geta was. After all, he summoned you, but he wasn't there which you found a bit strange.

You turned your head when you heard footsteps approaching behind you, but it wasn't him.

"Gods! Who is this lovely lady?”

He was a young man who looked older than Geta, perhaps around your age, someone you had never seen before. He approached you with an unnecessary grin on his face. "May I know who you are beautiful lady?"

You frowned, turning your head away.

“Sister!”

You turned and saw that Geta was coming towards you from behind the other man.

"You are the famous Princess Aurelia? You're much prettier than they say."

Geta gave him a dirty look, "I find it pretty gross that you were so desperate that you would hit on a woman with a child." He chastised him. He reached out to embrace you, but your stomach was in the way. "Oh my, it's getting quite big!"

The man laughed. "Aah, apologize, my lady. I was distracted by your beauty and didn't notice your big belly.”

You rolled your eyes. "Why did you summon me?" You asked Geta.

"Come inside with me," he said, wrapping an arm around you, and narrowing his eyes at the other man.

He watched you two walk away, pursing his lips.

When you stepped into the great hall, Geta sat you down in a chair. He then sat opposite you.

"I'm sorry I summoned you here, but I didn't have a chance to leave the palace. Besides, you refused to come and you didn't write me back, what could I do? You left me helpless, I missed you so much."

He was going to hug you again, but you drew back. His eyes widened in surprise. "Or are you angry with me?”

You sighed, couldn't hold it in any longer. "Of course I'm angry with you! How could I not be? My husband went to war to fight for you, for Rome. He had to leave his wife behind. However, the Emperor of Rome chose to stay here in his palace instead of being with his army!" You suddenly began to cry, unable to stop sobbing.

Geta stood up and approached you, putting one hand on your shoulder.

"Forgive me, sister. I wanted to go with them, but you know the reason."

"What reason?”

He frowned. "Haven't you read the letters I sent you? How rude of you sister. You broke my heart." He approached the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. "That bastard you just saw at back the courtyard, my cousin, he arrived in Rome months ago. Apparently, my mother made him a promise when she saved the Senate from Macrinus. But his target isn't the Senate, it's something bigger."

Suddenly you felt guilty, he had obviously fallen on hard times as well.

"It'll never end, will it? Someone will always want to ascend the throne." You mumbled.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You're not angry with me for shouting at you, are you?"

He smiled. "I deserve it," he said, taking a sip of his wine. "I'm glad you came, I really needed to see you. And..." he said, putting the glass on the table and coming closer to you, taking your hands and looking into your eyes. "As for the other reason that I called you..." He smirked. "I've got some news that will make you happy."

You raised your eyebrows. "What is it?”

"I have been informed two days ago that our ships carrying the army have set sail from Alexandria."

Suddenly your heart began to beat rapidly with excitement, your throat felt dry.

"It is thought that they should arrive in Ostia in a few days. General Acacius, your husband, is returning home in triumph."

"Thank the Gods! You don't know how happy you made me, brother!" You hugged him, eyes filled with tears.

"It's nice to see you smiling again." He murmured, rubbing your back.

You began to cry again, which has become something of a habit for you recently.

"Please stop crying. He's coming back. I promise I won't send him to war again.”

Suddenly you felt a spasm in your womb and you gasped.

"Sister! Are you alright? Gods forbid, but I hope you're not in labor, are you?"

"No, there's still time. It's just a little contraction," you said through clenched teeth.

"Are you certain?" He asked anxiously.

You nodded. "I want to return home now. I'd better not move a muscle until Acacius returns. I don't want to give birth while he's away."

"You're right. Thank you for coming," he kissed you on the cheek. "Just seeing you for a little while is enough for me.”

He helped you to your feet. You looked at him. "Make sure you keep your promises to our people, brother. You must be able to rule alone. Be strong and wise, like our father."

"I promise I will. Thank you, Aurelia, for believing in me more than my mother did. She only gives lectures and tells me not to trust anyone."

"You don't need anyone's wisdom. You're a Roman Emperor, remember that, stand tall."

He nodded and smiled. Suddenly, you felt the baby kick and smiled, then took Geta's hand and placed it over your belly. He laughed as he felt the kick.

"Oh, gods! Looks like my nephew is going to be a quiet fighter, just like his father. Is the midwife sure it's a boy?"

"Yes, she said she is certain." You said a little hesitantly.

"Then you are carrying little Acacius! Rome surely needs him!”

You smiled. "I hope he will be just like his father."

He smiled back and then walked you out, making jokes about your big belly on the way. Getting slaps on the back from you in return.

The day of return.

Three days had passed since your last meeting with Geta, and there was still no word from Marcus or the Roman army. You were concerned because he hadn't replied to your last letters, but you took some solace in what Geta had said. Cato, who was waiting in the harbor of Ostia, was sending you the latest news every evening with a soldier. But the news you were waiting for never came, and each passing day was becoming more and more unbearable. However, today, unlike other days, that soldier arrived while you were resting in the courtyard after breakfast. He came by early today because he had the news you were waiting for. The good news you'd been hoping for and praying for.

"I've got some good news for you, my lady. We have a sighting of our army's ships off the coast of Ostia!"

You smile and place your hand on your chest, just above your heart, which begins to beat faster.

"Praise the gods!" cried Tullia, raising her arms in the air.  Everyone in the villa smiled at each other and looked at you with a warm, relieved expression. You were just so overwhelmed that you didn't know what to say. Decima and Norell gave you a hug, sharing your happiness as you shed a few tears. You quickly told them to get the bath ready and prepare the food. Your heart was racing with excitement, and you could feel your whole body trembling. He was returning, your husband, your love, your happiness, your general, back to you.

As the sun's rays filtered through the clouds and illuminated the blue waters of the sea, the ships of the Roman army coyly approached the harbour. Marcus exhaled deeply as his gaze traversed the outlines of the city skyline. He was grateful to be able to return to his city and homeland in triumph. Previously, upon returning home, his thoughts had been solely focused on relaxing at his villa and then heading to the barracks or the Field of Mars, the only place he would be occupied again. But now he had you in his life, he had something to come back for, something to give up all his duties for. A month without you felt like a year to him, he was tired and full of longing.

He reached for his armour and picked up the papers he'd tucked under it. All the letters you had written to him. As he brought them to his lips and kissed them, he couldn't help but smile. He was really looking forward to seeing you and having you in his arms again. Once the ship was approaching in the harbour, Octavius brought his red shawl and helped him put it on. They exchanged a proud smile and went down on deck together as the ship made its way to the dock. Marcus tapped all his soldiers on the shoulder as they all saluted him. They were all tired, proud and cheerful. The ship maneuvered to port on the port tack and came alongside with a slight bump, the waves crashing into the harbour causing the waves to splash the people waiting on the shore. The gangway was brought for the soldiers who were ready to get off the ship. The people on the shore cheered, and the soldiers on board saluted as Marcus stepped from the ship onto the shore. After him, other soldiers disembarked, and a festive atmosphere prevailed on the shore. Cato came running to them and saluted Marcus, who touched his shoulder in return.

"Aurelia? Tell me, is she alright?" He asked excitedly.

Cato smiled. "Yes, sir. Lady Aurelia and the others are all waiting for you."

Marcus let out a sigh of relief, but now feeling more excited, he turned to Octavius. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, sir." He replied with a shy smile.

"My lady, why don't you take a seat?"

You ignored Tullia's concern, shaking your head as 'no'. “I'll wait here until he arrives," you said firmly.

You were all waiting outside the villa, just off the dirt road. You were feeling a little nervous and your heart was beating a little faster, making it a little difficult to catch your breath. You were getting tired, but you decided to wait there for a little longer. Everyone had their eyes locked on the end of the road, excitedly waiting for their Dominus to arrive. Decima came to you and took your hand and put one hand on your back, sharing your exhilaration.

And then, you heard some horses' hooves pounding on the ground, followed by a few loud neighs. You kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, waiting impatiently. Your hands were shaking, your palms were sweating, and your heart was beating faster than ever. Decima gave you a rub on the shoulder. And Marcus came into view, urging his horse on to go faster, his voice bouncing off the road. You took a step forward and almost forgot about your big belly, wanting to run towards him. Marcus reared his horse, looking at you, and then jumped off and ran towards you. The slaves murmured to each other in joy. You gave Decima's hand a gentle push to walked towards him. She said something in concern, but you ignored her. All you could think about was Marcus who came over to you with a big smile on his face. He took your hands first, then looked at your belly in amazement and took you in his arms. He turned you around a few times in joy, making you giggle. Then he set you down and gave you a tight but careful hug, grabbing your neck pulling your head closer, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in.

"Thank the gods! You have returned to me, my love." Tears filled your eyes.

He looked into your eyes, and you could see his longing there, burning bright. "As I promised, I have returned to you, my lady, in triumph."

You embraced him tightly, running your fingers through his grey hair as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You inhaled his scent, kissed his neck, and let out a few sobs that echoed off the outer walls of the villa.

Marcus gently wiped away your tears with his fingers and placed his arm around you.

"Welcome home, general!" the slaves saluted him.

"Thank the gods you have returned safely," Tullia said cherfully.

"Thank you Tullia," Marcus said, then noticed Decima standing timidly. He turned around and looked at Octavius and made a sign to him. Then they embraced each other as you walked into the courtyard. You tilted your head to look at them, Marcus leaning down and kissing the top of your head, pulling you closer to him.

"My love, you've become even more beautiful since I last saw you," Marcus said, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You two were in the Balneum, you were seated on his lap in the water, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure if I really look beautiful. I have some body flaws." You giggled, pointing to your belly.

You felt his lips beneath your earlobe. "I'm in love with every part of you that you think is a flaw. Besides, you're beautiful in every way. It's simply not possible otherwise." He put his hand on your belly, smiled when he felt a kick. "See? Our child agrees."

You smiled, then lifted your head to look at his face. "I've noticed that when you talk about him, you always say 'our child', not 'our son'. Do you think it's going to be a girl?"

"It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl since it's our child, the fruit of our love." He kissed your temple.

"Wouldn't you prefer it to be a boy? From what I've seen, Roman men care more about that."

"Nonsense. If you ask me, I would prefer a girl with your hair, your eyes, your beauty." His lips brushed against your cheek.

"Really? The midwife says it's a boy. And in my experience as a medicus, I find that to be true.”

“Aurelia, please don't worry about that. I promise you, nothing else matters more than ensuring our child is born healthy.”

You looked at him admiringly and sighed. "I've missed you so much. Your voice, the way you always comforted me." You then frowned. "I'll speak to Geta and make sure he doesn't send you anywhere else. I was really worried about you. I was so close to having an early labor."

He laughed. ‘'I'm glad I returned in time. I was afraid that if I didn't make it."

Then he sighed deeply. "I missed you too. Without you, It's like nothing tastes the same, not even the food I eat or the wine I drink. It was as if even the sun wasn't as bright as it usually is. Even when I was fighting enemy soldiers, all I could think about was returning to you. I felt no other emotion and had no other purpose. You looked at him and he looked at you. No matter how far away we were, I felt you with me every time I closed my eyes. He pressed his palm on your chest, right above your heart. Maybe it's because our souls are bound together. Our hearts are tied together.”

Your eyes locked on his lips, he realized what you wanted, and he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was more restrained than ever, full of love, like a cry of longing. But your heavy breathing made him break the kiss.

"Are you alright, my love?"

You nodded, taking his hand on your thigh. "Marcus, please, I need you now more than ever."

He smirked. "It seems our bodies need to be as one as our souls."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. With his need, already writhing to be inside you, he entered you impatiently.

Your belly prevented you from wrapping your arms around his neck, so you put your hands on his shoulders. "Gods!" you moaned in pleasure. You had missed feeling him inside you so much.

"Let me," He said and turned you around and pulled you back to him a little roughly, your back bumped against his chest. His hands, his arms, every part of his body was yearning to touch you, to possess you. He guided you to sit properly on his lap and entered you from behind. You found this position more comfortable. He gently gripped onto your hips and pushed you against his groin, splashes echoing off the damp walls of the balneum. His hands reached up to cup your breasts, kneading them possessively. With each thrust, each touch, you felt more and more breathless, and you were getting closer and closer to the edge. His lips were hot as they travelled along your neckline, soon to be replaced by his tongue and teeth. Your back arched and you pressed into his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to kiss you deeply.

"Marcus!" you gasped. You dug your fingers into his arms that were wrapped around you.

"I know my love, me too." He whispered in your ear and tightened his grip around you, thrusting as deep as he could. He picked up the pace at an incredible rate and you cried out his name over and over as you both reached your climaxes.

The intense pleasure you were experiencing suddenly gave way to pain. "Ow!" You groaned.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling incredible pressure in your womb but still able to detect the remaining traces of pleasure.

"Aurelia?" He grabbed your hair with one hand to look at your face. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" His voice was full of concern.

You were in too much pain to speak. Or was it time? You suddenly felt afraid. "I'm not hurt. I'm just having contractions," you said through clenched teeth.

Marcus stood up and helped you to your feet. He poured a bucket of clean water over your shoulders and gave you a kiss on the head. "We should summon the midwife. Let me dry you off first."

You nodded and got out of the tub with his help.

The midwife came in a hurry, but by the time she arrived, you were no longer having contractions. She examined you anyway and said some things you didn't like.

"You're still some time away from labor, my lady," she said, and then she looked at Marcus. "Contractions are very normal at this stage, but it is wise not to trigger them too much as this can lead to an early birth. The earlier premature birth happens, the greater the health risks for your child."

You frowned, pursing your lips.

"I want you to move in here next week," Marcus said, looking at her. "Whatever you need will be provided. Inform the slaves of what you need for the birth, everything should be ready by now." He spoke in a firm tone as if giving orders to a soldier.

"As you wish sir. I will have everything ready. Please take care until then, my lady." She bowed her head and left the room.

"I think she's exaggerating a bit. I feel fine," you said, pursing your lips. Marcus sat down on the bed next to you and took your hand.

"Well, we'd better err on the side of caution anyway."

"Or will you not touch me again until the birth?"

He gave you a smile and stroked your cheek.

"You know I don't mean that."

He rolled his eyes. "Aurelia, you heard her too. She said it wouldn't be good for the child. We'll be patient. What's the big deal?"

You shrugged stubbornly, he laughed at your expression. Then he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "I promise you that after the birth, when you're ready, I'll make love to you until the morning. It will be so incredible that you'll forget your name in the morning."

You giggled and pulled him to you and kissed him passionately. But when the kiss got dangerously deep, he stopped you and pulled back. You frowned again. Marcus sighed and pinched your cheek. "You're going to have to be patient, princess.”

That week was more arduous than you anticipated. Your belly got bigger, it was harder to breathe and even sleeping peacefully became almost impossible. The baby was so active that it kept you awake at night. Marcus tried putting pillows between your legs and under your belly to help you sleep better, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. It wasn't just because you were carrying a child, but also because you couldn't touch him the way you wanted to, even though there were only a few inches between you and Marcus in bed. This absence of physical contact was starting to bother you, but he didn't seem too concerned. Or maybe he was just hiding his feelings really well – you weren't sure. All he did was hold your hand, kiss the top of your head or place a soft kiss on your lips. You were craving for more yet you had to restrain yourself. You kept telling yourself to be patient, to wait a little longer.

Since he's tired of battle, Marcus was spending a little more time at the villa which you were happy about it. But for some reason he was suddenly leaving every afternoon and coming back quite late at night. When you asked him about it, he mentioned that there was an election between the legions, and he had to re-select his centurions and legates after the last war. But it was a bit strange that it was in the evening, maybe it was hard for him too, not being able to touch you, so it was good to be at work, who knows, so you didn't ask too many questions.

When Antonia, your aunt, invited you to a dinner banquet at her house one night, you weren't sure you wanted to go at first. But it was tough spending time at the villa without Marcus and it was very boring to just lie down all day anyway. That is why you decided to go.

The reason for the banquet was that Pauline's husband had now risen to a high position in the council, and they were expecting a child soon too. You thought it would be a good opportunity to meet the other senate wives, so you decided to go.

Marcus said you could go if your midwife would accompany you there as if she wasn't already following you like a shadow. You were hoping this banquet would be a nice change of pace since you hadn't been around people for a while.

Their villa was really grand, though not quite as big as yours. The courtyard was really lovely and spacious. The whole place was lit up with twinkling lights, specially lit for tonight. The soft, happy sounds of women's laughter floated out of the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at you. It was just like your wedding day. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered it. You gave them a quick look as you walked over to your aunt. Some of the women looked a little jealous, some admired you, and others looked respectful.

"Oh, my beautiful niece Aurelia! You’re here!" She gave you a big hug and held your hands with joy. "Come dear, please have a seat,” she made you sit on a lectus filled with cushions, which you realised was a specially prepared place for you. Decima put a cushion just behind you to make you feel comfortable, you thanked her.

Paulina came over and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You congratulated her on her husband's success and on the little one she was expecting. The banquet carried on, with the women chatting and laughing, before they sat down to eat. They kept asking you lots of questions. As you might expect, the questions were all about the child and the birth. Julia was there too, along with two other women. You ignored their looks and carried on chatting with your aunt.

"How long until the birth, princess? Your belly looks so big now," a woman asked.

"My belly was smaller when I gave birth to my daughter." Said another one, they laughed.

"The midwife thinks it'll probably be next week," you replied.

"It's so close now. I hope the baby is born healthy, my lady."

You nodded your thanks.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," your aunt said, smiling at you.

It suddenly dawned on you that your aunt's reason for calling you there was not as innocent as it seemed. After all, you've had the chance to get to know her over the past few months. She was showing off to other women about the power of your status, but she didn't seem to be malicious.

"Oh, it's so tough being a woman, isn't it?” One of them said, with a sigh. "They tell us from a young age that we should marry a powerful man and bear him children. But what about men? It's all so easy and comfortable for them." The woman seemed a little drunk, but she made a fair point.

Antonia narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you're right, my dear, but my Paulina's husband, my son-in-law, is never one to sit still. He's worked hard for his position." Then she looked at you. "Neither is Aurelia's husband, General Acacius, he's a hero. Let's make a toss to him and the glorious Roman army once more!"

You smiled at her and lifted your glass with the juice in it.

"Of course he is," Julia replied, with a hint of sarcasm. You were curious as to why she had broken the silence she had kept all night. And you were pretty sure you wouldn't be pleased with what he had to say. 'But he's just like any other man. All men are basically the same."

Before you could ask her a question, someone else butted in and said something into her ear, then they laughed. You frowned.

"Come now! Are we here to talk about men, ladies?" Someone complained.

But you found yourself looking at the woman next to Julia, who was giving you some pretty suggestive glances, and you felt pretty uncomfortable.

"Lady Domna!" you called out loudly. You sat up, giving her a stern look. "There seemed to be an insinuation in your voice. I want to know why."

The woman next to her laughed. "Oh, poor thing, she has no idea."

"What are you talking about?" This behavior annoyed you. Your aunt grabbed your hand, Decima touched your shoulder.

"My niece asked you a question," your aunt said firmly, seemed like she didn't like them at all just like you did.

Julia smiled cruelly. "Aurelia, it could happen to any of us. I don't mean to disrespect his memory, but my husband Septimus, your father, turned to other women to fulfill his sexual needs when my belly was as big as yours."

"My husband did too," one of them complained.

You stood up. "What did you just say?"

Julia rolled her eyes and looked at you like she won a victory. "Whore house," she said. "Acacius, your husband, was there the other day. Horatia's husband visits there often, so she said that he saw him there, right Horatia?"

She nodded hesitantly.

You were stunned, and instinctively put your both hands over your mouth. Suddenly your whole body began to tremble with rage.

To be continued…

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 12: The First Kill (WARNING BLOOD AND VIOLENCE)

Sic Semper Tyrannis

"Thus always to tyrants."

Brutus.

"You never forget your first kill," Marcus once said. One evening, you were sitting together in that meadow just after finished your knife training. "I've had to kill many, dozens, thousands. Some I felt no remorse for, some I thought they deserved it, some I felt pity for, but their faces are blurred in my memory in time. However, I could never forget the face of the first one. Although I was young, I remember it clearly, even now. For some time the silhouette of his face continued to torment me, even preventing me from using my sword properly.”

He took a deep breath as his fingers ran through your golden hair. “It's a peculiar thing, hard to overcome, right then and there, when you take his life, everything changes; the ground you walk on, the air you breathe, all of it becomes your enemy.”

As you looked at your own hands which were stained with blood and trembling, his words reverberated in your mind. You glanced at the man you had just killed, lying still on the ground. He was right. Everything has changed, and it will never be the same again.

Two days ago…

The atmosphere on Palatine Hill was one of palpable tension as the city awaited for the new dawn. You were trying to figure out the best way to extricate yourself from this troubling situation when you were involuntarily brought here by the guards, at the behest of your Emperor half-brother. Walking from the great courtyard into the great hall, accompanied by Flavius and two guards, you noticed that several soldiers were being forced to their knees by the guards. It appeared as though they were awaiting something or someone. They were attired in black cloaks over their armour, and you were uncertain as to why they were regarding you with concern. Might they be Marcus's men? Could this be the reason why he did not return home? Could he have been here too? As these questions continued to arise in your mind, you headed for the large door and entered as the guards opened it for you.

Once you had entered the great hall, the man called Flavius took his leave, accompanied by a few of his men, for some reason. You were not particularly curious about where he went, because the moment you saw Caracalla's face, your tension level spiked. You never thought that one day you would be judged by him in this hall. Caracalla stood in the centre, in his usual place, with Macrinus right next to him. What a surprise! You could imagine the strings he had woven around your brother, effectively turning him into a puppet. Geta and his mother Julia were on the left side of the hall. On the floor was the body of a slave, lifeless and bleeding, felt a chill run through you. You averted your gaze. As soon as he saw you, Geta uttered a silent curse and looked at his brother with a look of anger. “Really, brother? I told you, Aurelia has nothing to do with this!”

Caracalla stared at you, ignoring his brother. You swallowed when you realised he was holding the vial you had sent for Geta. He held it up as if he wanted you to see it. His face showed signs of fatigue and redness, which you knew could cause this kind of effect.

You were trying to stay calm. But your eyes kept drifting to the body of the poor slave on the floor. Caracalla noticed. “Oh, forgive us for starting without you.” He laughed like a madman.

“I have to tell you that you are making a mistake, brother,” you said calmly. You were hoping he hadn't noticed the quaver in your voice. “The things you accuse me of. None of that is true.” You turned your head to Julia, who was looking at you as she always did, defiant and angry.

“Lady Domna asked me to poison you, as she well knows. And I refused."

“Or are you going to tell me our brother Geta's lies too?” Caracalla snapped.

"Not lies, you fool, I'm telling the truth!" Geta shouted. He then inhaled. "Our mother is responsible for this. I can assure you that neither I nor Aurelia attempted to poison you."

Julia looked at her son, her eyes wide in surprise.

"What about this then?" Caracalla indicated the vial in his hand. "Last week, I had this dream that you were trying to kill me, and you were all involved." He pointed his index finger at each of you in turn. Macrinus stood silently beside him, weighing up the situation.

"As I said, my mother found a poison that will kill you slowly, which is why you killed this slave just now!"

Caracalla looked down at the dead slave on the floor. "That's right," he muttered. "I did." Then he grinned.

He looked like he was really lost, which made you almost feel pity for him. Geta approached him, seemingly used to this situation. "I asked Aurelia for help, for you, brother."

"Hah! So you admit that you plotted together to kill me!”

Geta sighed. “No you silly! You know that Aurelia is a medicus, so she found out what poisoned you and made a concoction that will cure you.”

“Lies, lies, lies! You're always lying to me!” He shouted at him, then pursed his lips. Geta rolled his eyes.

That's when you heard some muttering coming from outside. You figured it must be the soldiers. Before you had a chance to react, someone called out 'General', the great door opened, and Marcus walked in. You weren't sure which was more shocking. Seeing Marcus there like that, Flavius gripping his arm like he was a criminal, the bruises and blood on his face, or the fact that he was only in his burgundy tunic? Your chest tightened and your breath caught in your throat. It was as if someone was squeezing it.

“Marcus!” you cried out. Your ringing voice filled every space in the great hall.

Without a second thought, you strode towards him. You grasped his face in your hands and gazed at his bruises with concern.

"Aurelia, tell me you're alright." He asked, also concerned.

"I am. But you? What happened to your face?" You touched the edge of his eyebrow where the blood oozing from. You couldn't hold back the tears.

"There's no need to be concerned, my lady."

"General!" Caracalla said loudly. "Or should I just call you Marcus now? After all, you don't deserve the title."

"How do you mean?" you asked him, taking Marcus’ hand in yours.

"You are mad indeed, brother." Geta muttered. “General has nothing to do with this.”

“Shut the hell up! Enough with your lies!” Caracalla wagged a finger at him. Then he turned to you and Marcus.

"A husband and wife have decided to commit a crime together. That's quite romantic.” He gave a little sarcastic clap.

“What are you accusing him of?” you asked, a little sharply. “He's a general who's loyal to you. The person you should be accusing is right there with you!” You said, pointing at Macrinus.

“Aurelia,” Marcus warned, squeezing your hand.

Macrinus smirked smugly. "May I enquire as to the evidence on which you have based your conclusion, my lady?"

Caracalla butted in. "You're not in a position to accuse anyone." I'm the one who decides everyone's fate here.’ He turned to his mother. "I will commence with Lady Domna. Or should I say ‘Mother'?" he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Then he went to the slave lying lifeless on the floor, bent down and examined him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "You disobeyed me. As if that wasn't enough, you tried to poison me using this rat." He stood up and asked the guard next to him for his sword. Once he had it in his hand, he looked at its shiny surface as if he were talking to it. Julia tensed up. "I can't send you back there without knowing what you'll do. I'm sure you'll be back though. So you'll be charged under the Roman law.”

“Brother!” Geta protested.

"I must protest! I'm the Empress, I can't be judged! I am your mother!" Julia yelled.

"That's why you are still breathing!" Caracalla barked. "You committed treason! I could kill you right now, but I won't! So, try to be greatful and don't speak another word!"

"It's a fair judgement, Your Majesty," Macrinus stated, pleased. You were certain that it was his opinion. After all, he had the majority of the Senate.

"Take Lady Domna to her room and keep her there until the trial," he ordered the guards.

The guards forcibly took her by the arm and led her out, despite her protests and shouting.

"As for you," he said, pointing at you and Geta.

"It would be best to simply let Aurelia go. I'm the one who asked her for help," he said, stepping between you and Caracalla.

Caracalla laughed. "How touching! What have you done to my brother, Aurelia?" His eyes shifted to you. Marcus clenched his jaw. The atmosphere in the hall was getting tense. "Well, here's the thing; she's the one who made this concoction, after all."

"It's not poison, on the contrary, it's a herbal remedy that will heal you." You explained.

Caracalla approached you and handed you the vial, pointing the sword he held in his other hand at you. "Prove it, then. Drink."

Marcus became visibly tense. Geta turned his head towards you. You swallowed hard. There was no harm in drinking the concoction you had made, you wouldn't have been afraid to drink it, only if you hadn't been carrying a child. "I can not," you suddenly said, closing your eyes and bowing your head.

Caracalla laughed hysterically. You exchanged a look with Marcus, you knew he understood why.

Geta turned to you, leaned in, “Aurelia, what are you-“

"I can't because I'm with child." You said. "The mixture could harm the child."

Everyone looked at you, and there was a brief period of silence. "How can I be sure you're not lying to me?" Caracalla asked.

Geta shifted his gaze to your belly, then turned to Caracalla and snatched the vial from his hand. "Give me the damn thing," he said and uncorked the bottle and drank the whole thing without thinking.

Everyone was looking at him in surprise. He threw the vial on the floor and looked Caracalla in the eye, who stared back at him with his mouth open. Geta licked his lips, spread his arms wide. "Look at me, brother! I am still alive, aren't I?" He smirked.

Caracalla looked at him, then at you, narrowing his eyes. This time he pointed his sword at Geta. "You two, you must be playing tricks on me."

"That's nonsense!" Geta yelled. Caracalla shook his head as if he had heard something. "No, a lie is always a lie. I refuse to believe it." The sword slipped and fell to the floor as he covered his ears with his hands. He stepped back. Macrinus approached him and whispered something in his ear.

"I think that's all we need for now. As you can see, Aurelia is completely innocent." Geta said.

"No way!" Caracalla spoke up. "She'll be staying here until this is resolved." He and Macrinus exchanged glances. He then looked at you. "I've decided that she needs to stay under home detention here at Domus Severiana."

"I must protest!" you said, loudly. Marcus gave you a little tap on the shoulder to calm you down.

“My decision is final!” He yelled at you then turned to Geta. “So, you, I'll have you tried for high treason, and I'll have you deposed from the title of emperor."

“You can't do that!” Geta interjected.

“Just watch me!” He gave him a stern look.

Geta clenched his fists.

"As for you, Acacius," Caracalla said, pointing his finger at Marcus this time. "There won't be a trial for you. I've got other plans. "In fact, I should have you beheaded or thrown off the Tarpeian rock.”

(Tarpeian rock: A steep cliff on the south side of the Capitoline Hill that was used in Ancient Rome as a site of execution. Murderers, traitors, perjurors, and larcenous slaves, if convicted by the quaestores parricidii, were flung from the cliff to their deaths.)

"For what offence?" Your body was shaking.

"Treason of course!" He shouted.

Macrinus intervened. "Your Majesty, your people respect or General Acacius and they have made great hero out of him. It would be unwise to have him executed. You might draw the public's ire to yourself. Angering them will only work against you."

"How do you mean? Should I let him walk free, Macrinus?" Caracalla shouted at him angrily.

Macrinus looked at Marcus. "No, of course not. I just want to say that there are other ways that the public will be satisfied with. And you of course, Your Majesty."

"And what are those ways, I wonder?”

You were getting nervous as he spoke, what was he planning?

“Games,” he said. “We could set up some fighting games, and Acacius could fight in the Colosseum to win his freedom.”

“No way!” You let out a cry of protest.

"Why do you object, or you do not trust your husband's fighting strength?" Caracalla enquired with a hint of irony. "It is a good decision, Macrinus I liked it."

You looked at Marcus. But he was staring at Caracalla. "What about my men? I demand their release, Your Majesty. They have nothing to do with my treachery." Marcus said the word treachery through clenched teeth.

"I deny it, Acacius! They are as guilty as you are, and they will take their share of your punishment and fight along with you in the Colosseum!"

"Your Majesty, I suggest that you reconsider this!" Marcus said loudly.

"Shut up!" Caracalla approached him. "That dusty ground of the Colosseum will become your grave, you will lose your reputation, your name will be forgotten! I will burn your villa to the ground with your slaves inside! And your wife Aurelia..." He eyed you up and down. "She will be confined for the rest of her life! Do you hear me?"

He gestured to Flavius, who grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from Marcus.

"Don't you dare to touch her!" Marcus lunged towards him but the guards grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back hard.

"Marcus!" You reached for him, but Flavius was holding your arm tightly.

"Take your hands off the Princess now!" Geta shouted too, but Flavius ignored him.

“My name may be forgotten, but your name will be remembered with hatred for generations to come!” Marcus roared. “You will face the hatred of your people! Your reign will come to an end!”

“Get him out of my sight!” Caracalla shouted. “Throw him in one of the pits in the Colosseum with all his men!”

"No, please! Brother please!" You begged. Tears welled up in your eyes.

He didn't care.

“MARCUS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the guards dragged him out. Flavius then released you, but couldn't feel your legs and collapsed. Geta crouched, put his arm around your shoulder, you rested your head on his chest, sobbing, crying.

“Lock them in their rooms, I want two men at every door!” You weren't looking at Caracalla, but you knew he was talking about you and Geta.

First day of the games.

The Colosseum was host to a game that was somewhat unique today. The announcement of the accusation and sentence of General Marcus Acacius had been made public, and many people had gathered here in the early hours. It would be fair to say that the vast majority viewed this man as a hero. The loud shouts of the crowd mingled with the sound of drums and trumpets. For the first time, Marcus was not pleased to hear his name shouted by the crowd, despite being aware of their admiration. The reason was straightforward: his wife Aurelia was absent from the Imperial stand. They had taken her away from him. Caracalla and Geta were seated in their customary positions. It appeared that Caracalla wished to keep his brother, who had committed treason, close by.

However, Geta, like Marcus, was even less enthusiastic about being there for the first time. As Marcus and his soldiers saluted them before the fight commenced, Geta and he locked eyes. If only I could hear him at this distance, he thought. I wish he would tell me something about Aurelia. Then Geta nodded at him as if he could read something his mind. ‘She's alright,’ he mimicked with his lips. And that was it! That was enough for Marcus to feel strong and defeat everyone and everything in the arena. On top of that, he had his most trusted men with him this time, his soldiers. They'd fought side by side on the battlefield, and they were ready to do the same here.

"Octavius!" Marcus called out. He gave him a heads-up about the barbarian warrior coming up behind him. Octavius dodged the attack and, led by Marcus, they all took up an attacking position, targeting one barbarian warrior and quickly overcoming them. There were just two barbarians left. Marcus signaled to his soldiers to stay back and calmly took a step forward, challenging the remaining barbarians with his outstretched arm. They both charged towards him with their swords but missed. Marcus expertly dodged their attacks and cut them with his sharp sword. The crowd went wild. Geta laughed and applauded. For the first time, Caracalla responded to his laughter by cursing angrily. Marcus, with his sword bathed in a crimson red, made his way towards the barbarian, who was lying on the ground, apparently nearing the end of his life. He then looked at Caracalla.

Caracalla turned his thumb down. Marcus killed the barbarian with a swift move. As the crowd chanted Marcus' name, Caracalla sulked and sank into his seat. "Ugh! Too fast and too boring! Well, fortunately, this is a three-day game and we're only on day one."

"How exciting!" Geta teased.

Caracalla frowned and turned his head towards Macrinus who was already approaching. "Have your new gladiators arrived, Macrinus?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. They are preparing for tomorrow's game." He said, smiling at him.

"That's good. I hope tomorrow will bring the defeat of Acacius and his men." He looked at them with a hint of displeasure. Then he stood up. "Come, brother. It's time to leave."

Marcus was keeping an eye on them from a distance, his gaze shifting to Flavius, who was following behind them. He clenched his fists as he watched them until they were out of sight. He made a vow to himself. He was going to win these games, no matter what. He had to win the Emperor's approval to be free. Then he could leave here and get you to safety. After that, he could take care of Flavius and Macrinus. Even if he never became a general again, that would not matter to him. He did not believe that Caracalla would reinstate him, anyway. That night, staying in the same pit with the gladiators but in separate cells, he was thinking about all this and you.

You spent the entire day in a state of mental and emotional distress, seeking solace through prayer. You were rather concerned about Marcus, eager to receive any news from him. However, the guards at the door of your room would never let you out. You hated this room. Never expected to feel this way about it, nor to return here in this way. While you watched the birds singing cheerfully outside the window, you felt a longing to be free like them. You were also concerned about those in the villa and you prayed for them too. However, Marcus was on your mind constantly. Nothing made sense without him. You were feeling lost, incomplete. In the evening there was a knock at the door. Geta's slave had brought dinner. The girl noticed that the food on the morning tray had not been touched. She looked at you with a concerned and sad expression.

"My lady, please try to eat a little."

"I do not feel hungry," you murmured.

She glanced at the guards and then looked back at you. "If you could do it for your child." The girl was a little too insistent in her tone. You turned to her. She gave you a nod with her head. She indicated the plate on the tray with a gesture. You noticed a piece of paper under the plate. Had someone wrote you a note? You looked at the guards. They were standing at the door and wouldn't let it close when the slave girl was inside. You had to come up with an excuse. "Alright then. I'll eat, but first you help me get dressed. I need to change my dress." you said loudly looking at the guards. "Close the door, I need to get dressed."

The guards nodded and obeyed. You immediately took the paper from the tray.

"Emperor Geta wrote to you," she said quietly.

"Or perhaps it is about Marcus?" you asked, opening the little paper.

"I am not quite sure, my lady. He's in a similar situation to you, confined in a way. I couldn't even speak to him properly." You could sense the sadness in her voice, you touched her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Do not you worry. I'm sure everything will be alright and we'll be released soon." You felt like you also convincing yourself desperately.

The girl replied with a smile.

You turned your gaze to the paper to read what Geta had written.

"My dear sister. I hope you're doing well. I'm really concerned about you, so it would be great if you send me a response. What do you think of this solution huh? You must think I'm pretty smart, you do not? Come now, be honest." -Even so, he still managed to make you smile- "Anyway, Acacius and his men fought well today. You should have seen Caracalla's face when they won the game. It looked like a little monkey's butt. Whatever. Acacius, he's fine, don't you worry about him. If he wins the next two games, he'll be free. And I'm quite sure he will. Oh, and you never told me you were carrying a child, which I'm still upset about. Well, take care of yourself and the child, and eat your food. I'm waiting for your secret response letter. We'll be free soon, I promise. Kisses.”

Sighing, you crumpled up the paper and put it in the wooden box, closing it up. Fortunately, he had some good news. You felt a little relieved. You then looked around your room for some paper and a pen. The girl whispered to you. "Here, my lady," she said, pulling out the ink, reed pen and paper she had tucked into her belt.

"You are really well prepared," you said, smiling at her. She giggled. You sat down and the girl helped you to write a reply for Geta.

"Brother, I'm alright, please don't worry.  I must say, this solution is really clever and I am very grateful for it. Many thanks for the good news about him. I hope we'll all be free soon. I know you won't get anywhere near Marcus, but if you get a chance, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him I love him. Please look after yourself around Caracalla. I await your letter about tomorrow."

You handed the paper to the girl. She tucked it into her belt to deliver it to Geta.

Day two of the Games.

The atmosphere in the Colosseum today was somewhat different from that of yesterday. It seemed that the crowd flocking to this giant structure was more enthusiastic today. 

Marcus and his soldiers were going over their plan of fight while sharpening their swords. A tougher fight awaited them today. The gladiators were well trained, but unlike them, this was their first time in the Colosseum. Before long, the drums started beating and they were announced.

“Honos et Virtus! (Honor and virtue!) For freedom!” They shouted together, tapping each other on the shoulder. With swords drawn, they made their way to the arena, accompanied by the sound of drums and  the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd. It was pretty unlikely that they could pull off a fight like this on such short notice. But since Caracalla had declared them criminals, he'd ordered that there should be no interruption, one day after another. No matter how strong or experienced they were, it wasn't something an ordinary soldier could take easily. However, losing wasn't an option for Marcus. He encouraged them accordingly and spurred them on. Before start, and saluting emperor, Geta and Marcus shared a look that was just like yesterday. Marcus smiled in response to Geta's positive gestures.

“Oh, this is so ridiculous,” Geta muttered. “I feel like I'm flirting with a girl.”

“What was that? What did you say?” Caracalla leaned in towards him.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“And you call me mad.”

“But you are,” Geta said. “You're treating me like a caged animal. Locking me when I've done nothing wrong.”

"Be glad I didn't kill you," said Caracalla arrogantly. "Since I've tried it before and I can do it again."

"What did you say?" Geta looked at him with wide eyes.

Caracalla laughed. "If Aurelia hadn't saved you that night, you'd be with the Gods now. You would be dead."

Geta preferred to look at him in astonishment rather than watch the game. Of course, he had thought about it, but he could not digest his cold-blooded confession. At that moment he realised that everything was in vain. That he still saw him as his brother, that he respected him a little. To go to Aurelia for him. Suddenly he found himself feeling guilty. Tasting these new feelings, he set himself a goal: to kill him. No matter what, today or tomorrow. He had to die.

While Geta was planning to kill Caracalla somehow, Marcus and his soldiers kept up the fight against the gladiators. Despite the gladiators outnumbering them, they were able to prevail over them by watching each other's backs and acting in a spirit of brotherhood. Caracalla gave a thumbs up, decided that the remaining gladiators be to live. That came as a surprise to everyone. Macrinus seemed really pleased, and Geta noticed. They all had some injuries, including Marcus himself, but they weren't too severe. Marcus had a small scratch on his cheek. Octavius had a cut on his calf, and the others had cuts on their arms and legs. They were also pretty tired. They were in need of a rest, but they knew that Emperor Caracalla wouldn't let them. That night, as Marcus examined his brothers' wounds, he was filled with concern for the following day. It was possible that Caracalla and Macrinus had something big in store for the final day.

It was just after midnight when the sound of the iron gates opening was carried away on the breeze that had picked up the dust from the stone walls. Marcus and the others were soon aware that Cato and a soldier were approaching, and they rose to their feet immediately.

"Cato! It's Cato, sir!" Octavius said in a cheerful manner.

Marcus grasped the iron bars. "Cato? What are you doing here?"

Cato looked sad. "Sir, I am very truly saddened by all this."

"Cease weeping now, Cato," Octavius chastised him.

"Have you heard anything from the villa?"

Cato shook his head slowly. Octavius was growing impatient and reached his arm through the iron bars and grabbed his collar. “Speak!"

Marcus touched his shoulder as a warning. Cato took a deep breath. "Sir, when I went to the villa, I found that it had unfortunately been plundered, the soldiers you had positioned there had been murdered.”

Marcus slammed his palm against the iron bars in frustration.

“What about the others? The slaves?” Octavius asked.

"I'm not sure, but none of them were there."

"They must have been detained." Marcus hissed. "Along with all my property, everything I have."

Octavius kicked the bars angrily.

“I was watching Palatine Hill, the Domus Severiana,” Cato said. Marcus looked at him. Cato continued. “Lady Aurelia, I couldn't see her, but I'm certain that she's there.”

"She's under home detention," Marcus said his voice cracked. "Keep watching there. I need to find out how often Flavius and his guards go there and what they do. I need you to keep an eye on things for me until I get out of here. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir!"

The soldier who'd been keeping an eye on the corridor during the conversation came over to them. "Sir, General, I need to get Cato out of here before the guards at the gate realise."

Marcus nodded. "I am indebted to you." He said, and the soldier nodded in respect. Then he turned to Cato. "Cato, be cautious. Whatever you do, don't let Flavius notice you.”

"Yes, sir. I'll pray for you to win tomorrow," he said, looking at each of them. He threw his arms up. "Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)"

"Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)" They all repeated, their smiles confident and assured.

As you read Geta's note that evening, you noticed a difference in his writing style compared to the previous day. It seemed more serious. You were curious as to why and felt a little frustrated that you were not allowed to talk to him freely. Yet, you were really grateful to him for coming up with this solution.  It was like he'd given you a breath of air when you felt like you were stuck in this room. Fortunately, there was more good news. Marcus and his soldiers had won. The only thing left to do was get through tomorrow. If Marcus were to emerge victorious from the games tomorrow, it would mean that Caracalla would no longer have the authority to detain him. So maybe you could be freed and return to the villa together before the trial. You had to find out what happened there and see if everyone was well. In accordance with the law, everything you have to be confiscated, including your slaves. It might even be the case that they could have been sold to other people. The mere thought of that made your chest hurt. However, this is not a possibility at such short notice, and certainly not before a decision has been made by the court.

Sitting on the large bed, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the long window, you read the short note that Geta had sent you, thinking of him as you traced your thumb over the word 'Marcus'.

You sensed that he was thinking of you too. Actually you were certain. You implored Jupiter, as you rubbed your belly with a hand over it. "Please, my lord. I beseech you. I pray that you spare him to me, to our child. Be his constant companion and his strength in fight, refuge in every adversity. Guide him, my lord, that he may return to me safely."

Day three of the Games.

Present day.

"Remember, we have to win no matter what. If we lose, we will not only lose our lives, but our families, their future and reputation."

They nodded, but their eyes betrayed their doubts. Some of them were exhausted and deeply wounded. Marcus knew that if one lost, they all would. He had to give them what they needed: strength and courage.

“Brothers, do you remember those words I spoke to you two years ago on the Libyan front?”

They looked at each other and nodded in aggrement. He went over to the soldier who was struggling the most and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I mentioned a dark place inside us, a place that can give you strength even when you feel you have none left. You're injured and you're feeling drained. It was just like that day. We were outnumbered that day and it looked like we were going to lose. I don't think any other army would have been able to win with such a small number of people. But we managed to beat the odds and find a way to win. We'll do the same today." He went over to another soldier and looked at him. He had a wound on his arm. "Now I want you to discover that dark place inside you. He turned to another soldier. "Felix. I see you're badly wounded in the leg. Does it hurt?"

The soldier looked at his leg. "Yes, sir."

"Do you feel that place? Do you hear that voice screaming at you that you're going to lose?"

He lowered his head. "Yes, sir.”

"Do you think you can run from here to the gate? Or will it make the wound in your leg worse?"

He looked at him uncertainly. "It could be a lot worse, sir."

"That's not the answer I'm seeking, Felix!" he shouted at him. “When you get to the arena, you'll need to run and be quick. The warriors trying to kill you there will jump on you to finish you off as soon as they realise that you're scared.” He gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Our mind rules our body and it rules this dark place! It cannot direct the body of one who is afraid! Because he is doomed to lose. When you die over there, you will only lose your life. Your family however, will lose their citizenship and be known as the family of a traitor. Your friends will lose a brother. I will lose a good soldier! Now, tell me, will you confront that dark place, face your fears, fight along with us to win?" Marcus looked into his eyes. Felix inhaled and nodded firmly. “I will, sir!”

Marcus smiled. "Good. I trust that you will. From now on, it doesn't matter what you like or don't like, what you're upset about, what you think you've been wronged, your fears, your anxieties, nothing matters." Marcus raised his index finger. "Only one thing matters: Survival. Now tell me. Will you fight by my side and survive? Are you with me?"

The soldiers looked at each other and nodded, and then they all drew their swords and raised them.

"We're with you, sir!"

"Yes sir!"

They all shouted in unison with enthusiasm. Marcus raised his sword. “Nec spe nec metu! (Neither hope nor fear!)”

The soldiers repeated it back to him. The sound of their voices echoed off the stone walls. A little later, the sound everyone was waiting for was heard! The iron gates opened with a loud noise as their names were announced. The sound of drums, pipes, the voices of the crowd, whistles and applause filled the air. Everyone was brimming with excitement as they sat in their seats at the Colosseum, eager for the final game day. Geta and Caracalla were sitting in their usual seats. Macrinus came up to emperor and whispered something in his ear. Geta tried to focus on what he was saying, but the noise made it difficult to hear.

"Today will be the end of Acacius." Caracalla said to Geta, in an excited tone.

"You speak too precisely, brother. They've only just begun!

“This is the end! There's no doubt about it." He snapped. "His end. He is going to die today.” His hands were shaking. Geta squinted at his hands then his face. “I will get rid of him no matter what.”

At that moment, Geta became aware that something was being planned. He was fairly certain that Macrinus and Flavius were involved. But what could it be? He considered the option of killing his brother at that moment. However, he was unable to give orders to the guards.  He knew his own end was near. Just after Marcus. Maybe even yours. Caracalla was completely lost. He has to be the one to die today, but how? Geta thought.

Marcus and his men were in fine spirits as they engaged in combat with the gladiators who had previously fought and whose lives Caracalla had graciously spared. However, before long, two hatches opened on the ground of the arena, and a loud roar was heard as two tigers suddenly appeared. Caracalla was visibly amused and expressed his approval with a hearty laugh and a clap of his hands. The crowd expressed their delight with enthusiastic shouts.

“Where did these tigers come from?” Geta was rather puzzled.

"Didn't you like my surprise?'"

"I thought we'd run out of wild animals?" Geta grunted.

"And I thought we could make do with these until the rhino was brought in. They were only brought in last week. Macrinus went to great lengths to get them from Libya."

Geta squinted at him. "I am sure he did.”

Marcus got his men together and gave them a few strategies. After all, none of them had ever fought tigers, so they tried to stay calm. The gladiators had a similar plan of action. The two groups were ready to attack each other, using the tigers as a dangerous tool. The gladiators advanced towards them with shields and spears. Marcus and his soldiers numbered six. Gladiators were four. However, one of the gladiators was so enormous that he could easily be counted as two men. Marcus had given his men another tactic about him: attack his leg first, so they could finish him off as soon as he fell to the ground. That was it. A moment later, Octavius lunged at his leg with his sword. And managed to cut deeply. Before long, the other soldier did the same, and the big man collapsed on the ground. But not before he'd punched them in the stomach and face. During the attack, Marcus lost one soldier, leaving him with five remaining. The battle was so intense that it was difficult to catch your breath. Everyone was exhausted and trying to outwit the enemy while dodging the claws and teeth of the tigers, which was harder than ever. After one intense battle, Marcus and his soldiers were down to four. As he saw the exhaustion on their faces, Marcus felt the first stirrings of fear. But he persevered and fought on. He managed to cut down one of the gladiators and one of the tigers.

The crowd went wild with excitement. His success gave the remaining soldiers the encouragement they needed to keep fighting with everything they had. And soon the cries of victory were heard in the arena. The gladiators were all defeated by the glorious Roman soldiers and their General. The crowd cheered his name with delight. They gave each other a big hug and saluted the crowd.

And, It all happened so quickly.

"Now!" Caracalla shouted angrily. Geta turned his head towards Flavius, who raised his arm and looked at something, then lowered it as he gave an order to someone in the crowd. Out of the blue, Marcus was hit in the arm by a bolt from nowhere. If Octavius hadn't been a bit closer, it would probably have gone through his throat. Marcus let out a cry of pain. The crowd fell silent. Geta got to his feet. Caracalla looked at him, his hands clasped in delight.  He laughed wildly. The soldiers called out to their general. Then they quickly looked in the direction of the bolt. It was someone planted in the audience. It was against the rules. It was completely unacceptable. Caracalla was determined to see Marcus dead, so he came up with this plan.

However, he was soon disappointed to see that Marcus had broken the bolt and pulled it out of his arm. He was seething with rage. The soldiers picked up shields from the ground and formed a protective circle around their general. The crowd caught the attacker with the crossbow and beat him up. Caracalla got really angry and swore as he saw his plan fail. Geta looked at him and laughed cruelly.

Caracalla looked at him angrily and stood up. The crowd was chanting Marcus's name.

“I think that’s enough. Now It's time to set him free, brother. He has well earned it.”

He was aware of it. He looked at Flavius and the other guards and, with some reluctance, gave the order to open the great iron gate. Octavius, who was holding Marcus's arm, looked at him with concern.

"Sir, it looks like you've got a bit of a rough injury."

"No need to worry about my wound, brother. We survived. We won! That's all that matters." He smiled.

The soldiers looked at him. 'We won, sir!' Marcus gave them a tap on the shoulder, one by one. "I'm proud of you all."

Before long, the iron gate opened and Caracalla entered the arena as his name was announced. Geta was right behind him.  Marcus' smile faded. He considered grabbing the pugio from the ground, as this could be his only opportunity to kill him. However, if things did not go as planned, it could have unfortunate consequences. Besides, he had to think about his soldiers as well. At his command, they all dropped their swords and bowed their heads.

“Acacius, you really are a hard man to kill. You put me in a dilemma.”

He also noticed the pugio on the ground, covered in blood and dust. If he could get to it, he might be able to kill his brother right there and then. But he shouldn't let on. He glanced over at Marcus. He could see right through what he was up to.  He looked at the guards, who numbered eight. Could he take them down? No, he'd have to be declared free first. He decided to wait.

Geta bent down and picked up the pugio.

“Would you like one of the tiger's teeth, brother?” he said, looking at Caracalla, trying hard to hide his intentions.

Caracalla gave a shrug and seemed confused. “Alright, but first I must announce the verdict the people are waiting for.”

Marcus and Geta exchanged glances. And the decision has been made.

Caracalla cleared his throat and announced his decision in a voice the crowd could hear. “Marcus Acacius! By the authority of Roman law, I declare you free!”

The crowd cheered and whistled. They began to chant Caracalla's name. Caracalla held up his hand and signalled for them to be silent.

"But you're not a Roman general anymore. You're not even serving in the military anymore. You'll be exiled. You'll lose all your authority and you'll have to live outside Rome for the rest of your life."

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and after a few murmurs, people started to protest.

“General! General! General! General! General! General!”

“Silence! You filthy rats! How dare you? I shall kill all of you!” Caracalla yelled at them.

It all happened so fast. Geta threw the pugio at Marcus while Caracalla looking at the crowd. He skilfully grasped the pugio and slashed Caracalla's throat with a move faster than the wind. Nobody even noticed for the first few minutes because it happened so fast. As soon as blood spurted from the cut on Caracalla's throat, he instinctively pressed his hands as if to make the wound stop bleeding.

His sapphire-coloured fancy toga, his golden necklace, all soaked with his own blood flowing between fingers through. He fell to the dusty ground as he collapsed lifelessly to his knees. His blood was leaking slowly, pooling around his lifeless body. Geta took the pugio from Marcus' hand and looked the guards in the eye, who had taken up their attacking positions.

"The tyrant emperor is dead! I am the only emperor! As a tyrant, his rules are null and void!"

This was indisputably the case. The rules of the emperor, who had been legally declared a tyrant with the approval of the Senate, were therefore legally invalid. Geta had planned well, and the people were happy about it. After all, they were now shouting his name. Even when the blood continued to flow from his brother's lifeless body. Now he has to convince the council next. Marcus and his soldiers bowed their heads to him. The guards too. Then Marcus's eyes shift to the imperial tribune, he tensed up when he couldn't see Flavius or Macrinus there.

"Your Majesty, I need to know if your sister, my wife Aurelia, is still at Palatine Hill."

“Yes,” Geta said, also looking at the tribune. He turned his head to Marcus, his eyes wide. “That cunt Macrinus and his filthy dog Flavius.” He hissed.

Marcus looked at his soldiers. “Octavius, you are with me. The others will remain with Emperor Geta to ensure his safety and protection."

Geta tapped Marcus on the shoulder. "Acacius, there is no need for concern about my safety now. Go and ensure my sister is safe."

Marcus nodded nervously. Quickly, he and Octavius made their way towards the iron gate to leave the Colosseum.

Macrinus strode purposefully down the steps of the Colosseum, determined to catch up with Flavius. He looked around and saw that people on the streets were talking about Caracalla's death with great enthusiasm.

“Sir Flavius! Where do you think you're going?” Macrinus shouted at him.

They were both furious. "Tell your men to move now! We need to act fast while he's still in there."

Flavius grabbed his horse's reins. "I don't care about Emperor Geta! You told me Acacius would die there today!"

“Your man couldn't shoot him, so that's not my fault! Now is the time to take down Geta as we planned. We must finish him before he is officially proclaimed. Then, when I ascend the throne, I will finish Acacius myself, just as I promised you.”

"Your perfect plan didn't do shit!" He barked.

"I made you Prateon Prefect! I gave you  power!" Macrinus shouted.

Flavius shook his head. "I don't give a damn about your throne or the power you gave me! You promised you'd finish Acacius, but you couldn't. Our deal is off. "I'll finish him myself!" He leapt onto his horse. Macrinus was enraged.

"What the hell are you talking about? Where are you going?”

"I was wrong to go along with your stupid plan. I am going to do what I should have done all along. I'll take away what's most precious to him. Then he'll learn what loss means."

Macrinus was taken aback when he realised what he was talking about. 'No! You cannot!' "I need Princess Aurelia. Don't you dare touch her!"

"I will have my revenge with or without you!" He yelled, kicked his horse forward.

Macrinus called a few of the guards to his side and ordered them to follow him.

It was the afternoon, you were resting in bed, nervously awaiting, hoping for good news. Then there was a noise, a clinking of swords, and you heard the guards at the door hurrying away. The sound of their metal armour echoed with every footstep. You approached the door to see what was happening. As soon as you opened the door, you saw Geta's slave rushing to your side.

"My lady. You must leave immediately. Come with me." She grasped your hand and pulled you with her.

"What's going on?"

She put her finger to her lips. "We have to be quiet. I'll tell you."

As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, she pulled you towards the corner and guided you to hide behind the wall. You peeked out and noticed Flavius.

“They're looking for you.” She whispered.

Before you could ask anything the girl tugged you by the hand again. The other slaves noticed, rushing towards you.

"This way, my lady."

"Why are they looking for me? Or has something happened to Marcus?”

"I am not sure, my lady. The Commander of the Guard has just killed three of his men. They attempted to prevent him from entering. I heard them talking about you. You must leave before he notices you."

Your heart was beating fast. Your throat felt dry. As you approached the entrance door, you saw three of the guards were lying on the floor covered in blood.

"My Lady!” A familiar voice called out to you.

You looked in that direction and saw Cato, who was waiting for you outside the entrance door, holding the reins of a horse. You looked around for Marcus, but he was not there.

“Stop right there!”

You gasped when you heard Flavius's loud voice.

"My Lady, get on the horse now!" Cato drew his sword, staring at Flavius as he ran towards you.

"Cato, I-" Your voice cracked.

"You are the one he wants! Just go!"

You nodded, tears in your eyes, and quickly climbed onto the horse, kicking it forward.

When you looked back, you saw Cato taking up a defensive position, you turned your head. You tried to hold back your tears and gripped the horse's reins tighter. You had no idea where you were supposed to go. But it seemed a bad idea to head into the city and the streets, after all he was the commander of the guards and they were everywhere. So you rode on a road that led straight out of city center. You turned your head and looked back again. It didn't look like anyone was coming after you, but you had to be sure. After a while you heard drums and an announcement: “Be aware! Emperor Caracalla is dead! He is dead! He is dead!” You slowed your horse down.

How? When? You asked yourself in shock. And what about Marcus? Why isn't anyone talking about him?

People were looking at you with curiosity as you were a little bewildered and trying to figure out what to do. Before you knew it, you heard the sound of a horse's neigh coming behind you and people screamed. You looked back and saw Flavius on his horse, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. As you pulled the reins in a hurry, your bracelet caught on the fabric of your dress and slipped off your wrist, falling to the ground, causing a tinkling sound. The bracelet was precious to you, but you had to keep going. You just couldn't let him catch you.

You decided to ride the horse into the woods, with the intention of disappearing from view. As Flavius followed you, he saw Cato catching up with him. He drew his sword, turned his horse around and struck Cato with the sword. Cato fell to the ground, screaming in pain. The sword had hit his armour, so he wasn't dead, but he was frustrated. The distance between you and him had grown, and you were feeling pretty tired, so you decided to get off your horse and go through the trees to get to the other side of the city and the Colosseum. But it was a long way to walk. As soon as you heard Flavius' horse, you started running. He saw your silhouette and grinned.

"So you want to play tag, eh, princess?" He dismounted. "You should be aware of that, though. It's my favourite game." He drew his sword, following the tracks you left.

It was really hard to move through the forest without making a sound, especially with the long stola you were wearing. You kept tripping over thorns and bushes as you walked. As he was good at tracking, Flavius was following you calmly, smiling at every crunching noise you made.He crouched down to observe a trail on the ground. "If you surrender now, I promise I won't hurt you.” He grinned cruelly.

You were shaking with fear and trying to calm yourself down. You grabbed the fabric of your stola, pulled it up and tucked it into the belt around your waist, exposing your ankles but at least allowing you to move forward without making a sound. You soon came across a large, thick clump of bushes right next to a puddle. A tree root had created a small cave-like hollow in the soil. You decided to take shelter there because you were really tired. You took your knife out, picked it up, remain still, waiting in silence.

Upon arriving at Palatine Hill, Marcus was met with a gruesome scene: the guards and slaves lying lifeless on the ground. He was too late. Then he saw the slave girl running towards him. She was wounded, but managed to inform them and showed them the direction you were headed. Without a moment's hesitation, Marcus and Octavius mounted their horses and rode off in that direction.

"They must have gone out of the city. I think we should go that way," Octavius said.

"I will head there! We must split-up! You ride down the city, in case of the unexpected!" Marcus pointed down the street.

"Yes, sir!" Octavius rode his horse down the road.

Marcus was just about to kick his horse into a trot when he noticed some children playing with a gold bracelet. It looked familiar. He jumped off his horse, approached them and grabbed it. He knew this bracelet well, because he was the one who gave it to you.

"Where did you get this, child?" he asked one of them.

The child pointed ahead and Marcus rub child's head, then quickly got back on his horse and rode in that direction.

“Princess? Where are you hiding? You know I'll find you eventually. And when I do…”

That sick bastard, you thought. You were glad he didn't sound close. You decided that going the other way would be a better idea. Waiting here was pointless. It made you feel like you were caught in a trap. Just as you were about to stand up, you heard a hissing sound and your eyes widened in shock as you saw a snake ahead. You covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself screaming. You jumped back. You had to kill the snake before Flavius saw you. You knew he would see you if you stood up. You held your knife tight, aiming at the snake. You missed on your first try but stabbed it the second time. You felt sick, both from the blood flowing from the snake and from this overwhelming feeling of fear.

With your survival instinct, an idea came to your mind. The snake was a viper, which is known to be highly poisonous. Even though it was dead, there was still venom in its fangs. You knew how to get the venom since you'd already produced antivenom many times before, but it was too dangerous with bare hands. You tore the fabric from the hem of your dress, wrapped it around your hand and pressed the dead snake's head to open its mouth and extract the venom from its fangs. The venom was leaking out in a bright yellowish colour. You held your breath and applied the venom to the surface of your knife. You weren't sure how, but you had to cut Flavius somewhere on his body with this knife.

"Found you!"

You froze. His voice was right behind you. Just as you were about to run forward, he grabbed you by the hair and yanked hard. You let out a cry of pain. He yanked your hair harder, turning you to face him.

"I told you to surrender, princess." He grinned.

You lunged at his exposed arm with your knife. He wasn't expecting you to have a knife, so he was caught off guard and you managed to cut him. Flavius let out a cry of pain, and when he released your hair, you took the opportunity to step back. He realised it wasn't just a normal cut when he started rubbing it with his hand. The poison had mixed with his blood and caused him terrible pain as it spread through his veins. He groaned loudly and then looked at you angrily.

“You whore!” He grabbed you by the arm and hit you hard in the face. You stumbled backward and fell. You crawled away from him with all your strength. “I said I wouldn't hurt you, but I changed my mind.”

He grabbed your hair again, yanked, turned you around, so he was right on top of you.  His weight made it difficult for you to breathe. "I'm really going to hurt you. A lot." Flavius was running his pugio over your face. You felt the sharp edge of the knife against your skin as you fought against him.

A horse neighed loudly in the distance and you both looked in that direction. He uttered a curse and raised his pugio to stab you. Then, you heard footsteps running towards you and a familiar angry roar, then Marcus appeared and jumped on Flavius, pushing his body off you. They rolled on the grass. After his weight lifted off of you, you took a deep breath and looked at them. They were locked in a fierce struggle, punching each other with groans.

Marcus drew his pugio and stabbed him in the leg, then punched him in the face. He quickly got on top of him and started hitting him in the face again and again. Flavius was struggling to breathe, but he managed to hit the wound on his arm. Marcus groaned in pain. He seized the opportunity to kick him. This time Marcus was on the ground. You were shaking, but you had to think fast. As soon as you realised your knife was on the ground, you ran to it. You snatched it and forced yourself to remember the attack moves Marcus had taught you before. You lunged, aiming for Flavius' neck, who was punching Marcus in the face. Marcus hit Flavius with his elbow and realised you were approaching.

“Aurelia!” he shouted, holding out his hand as if to stop you.

Flavius had his pugio in his hand and could have cut you down in an instant. But you were the first to act. As soon as he turned his head towards you, you stabbed him in the throat with your knife. His eyes widened in surprise as blood gushed from the open cut in his throat onto your face, your clothes and your hands. He reached for the knife, grasping it as if he intended to pull it out. But he was wheezing and choking on his own blood as he tried to breathe. You stared at him, your eyes wide with shock. Marcus's voice sounded muffled to your ears. He shook you by the shoulders, but you were completely numb and paralysed. As Flavius' lifeless body collapsed to the ground, you looked at your hands. They were red and wet. Your gaze fell upon Flavius' body again. The blood flowing out of his throat was slow, the effect of the poison, you thought.

Marcus took your face in his hands. Seeing the faint smile on his face, feeling his touch on your skin, your body came back to life.

“Aurelia my love? Are you alright? Speak please, say anything.” He sounded concerned.

“M. Marcus, I... I killed him.” You mumbled.

Marcus wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Shhh, I know.” He whispered. His hands ran through your hair which was smeared with blood in some places. He rubbed your head and kissed over and over, exhaling with relief. Then he looked at you once more, his eyes holding yours in a gaze that was both intense and unwavering. "It's over, my love. You are safe now." He wiped the blood from your face with his fingers. He kissed your temple and touched his forehead to yours. You stayed like that for a while. Then you heard horses neighing in the distance.

“Sir!”

Octavius and Cato leapt off their horses and ran to you.

"Are you alright, my lady? Sir?" Octavius asked. His eyes then travelled over Flavius' body.

“We are now,” Marcus answered for you.

Octavius moved towards Flavius' body and spat a curse at him.

"Cato, give me a hand," Marcus said, and he helped you to your feet, but your legs were shaking. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into his arms. Cato held the horse's reins to keep it still. He approached the horse and carefully helped you on. Then he climbed on and settled behind you. He pulled you against his chest and grasped the horse's reins. "Hang in there, my love," he said firmly. Accompanied by Octavius and Cato, he rode slowly toward Palatine Hill.

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader) All Episodes

(Marcus Acacius x Reader)

Summary:  You are a secret medicus (a psychian), who embarks on a dangerous path to heal General Marcus Acacius, wounded during the war, but there is a secret, you think you're an orphan, but you're wrong. You're actually, the daughter of the previous emperor. Everyone thinks your'e dead long ago. But even you don't know anything about this and everything you knew is about to change.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 67,354 for now :)

Warnings: falling in love, loss of virginity, mention about virginity, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury

Chapter 1: Heal the Heart

Chapter 2: The Letter

Chapter 3: The Intention

Chapter 4: The Desire

Chapter 5: The Council

Chapter 6: The Battle

Chapter 7: The Wedding

Chapter 8: Lust, Threat, Tension

Chapter 9: The Rage

Chapter 10: coming soon

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