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averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months ago

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The Cost of Honor ⚔️ | Gladiator II Imagine

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Emperor Geta x Empress!reader (romantic), Marcus Acacius x daughter!reader (platonic), Emperor Caracalla x Empress!reader (platonic)

Content Warnings: light angst, fluff, slight NSFW/allusions to sex but nothing explicit, love at first sight??, mentions of pregnancy, violence, and death, soft!Geta who only loves his wife & ooc!Geta, historical refences and mythology (not completely accurate to the timeline) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.2k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: When General Marcus Acacius gave the hand of his only daughter to Emperor Geta in exchange for glory his once ambitious self desired, he expected her vexation towards him and their relationship to be forever altered. But what Acacius had not planned for was the wicked emperor and his bride to overcome their odds and prove to Acacius what the cost of honor truly meant.

note: I have watched Gladiator II every damn day this week. I need help. And I hope you like this.

dilectus meus = "my beloved," in Latin

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” = "Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia." traditional roman wedding vow.

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The moment the ships were spotted approaching the coastline, the bells of the city rang and echoed against every wall, igniting celebration amongst its people who took to the streets and cheered for their impending arrival. A symbol of victory for the Roman army, led by the esteemed General Marcus Acacius, over the conquering of Numidia. Men, women, and children of all social class lined the pavement to get a glimpse of Acacius, the spitting image of a God in his regal attire, in his chariot on his way to the grand palace, passing the beauty of the Colosseum which served as a reminder to the people of how far men go for freedom.

“We love you Acacius!” Shouted from each side, the sound rivaling the drums. Acacius’ hand waved to the crowd with a tight smile on his face. If he could skip the festivity and retire to his home he would. The long months of travel and war had taken a toll, and Acacius grew tiresome of it all. Conquering lands on behalf of the emperors. All while they bathed in their riches. Driving Rome further into a depression where the corruption runs so deep it is nearly impenetrable.

But while Acacius wanted nothing more than to relieve himself of his duty, his loyalty to the emperors and Rome was immeasurable, all because of young ambitions he came to regret.

As the chariot approached the stairs leading to the palace, three golden figures emerged gaining more cheers from the crowd. Sunlight reflected off the beautiful golden laurels on their heads. Resembling the likes of the Gods they worshiped, the three stride forward, passing members of the Senate and Praetorian guards, until stopping a few feet away from the top step.

“Acacius!” “Acacius!” “Acacius!”

Acacius ascended the stairs to the rose petals dropped by children. When the three came to his view, his tight smile turned to a small, but genuine one as his eyes connected with the figure in the middle. He received a small one in return, but it was guarded. Not at all warm or inviting.

No, the last he got one of those was a lifetime ago.

Ignoring the heaviness in his chest, Acacius approached the three and came to a still in front of them, raising a closed fist over his heart. “Emperor Geta,” he greeted the man to his right, bowing slightly before turning to the man on his left, “Emperor Caracalla.” Heart skipping, Acacius’ focus shifted forward to the last figure. Her own laurels glistened beneath the veil she wore. Acacius’ tone became soft as the words left his lips, “Empress Y/n.”

Marcella Acacia Y/n. Beloved and only daughter of General Marcus Acacius, step daughter of former Empress Lucilla, and the treasured wife of Emperor Geta.

Adored by the people, feared by the Senate, she was viewed as the Mother of Rome. A vessel sent by the Gods, Y/n held power and influence like no other. The type that made Senators flock to her side. The type that made gladiators fight beyond their limit in the arena in hope to gain mercy should the Empress grant them her favor. The type of power that made the people of Rome forget about the tyranny due to her status as their beloved general's daughter.

The type of power that had even the emperor's themselves turn to her for council.

“General Acacius,” Geta replied in acknowledgment, earning Acacius attention.

“I have taken Numidia in your names. That your dominion may eclipse that of every emperor that came before.”

“Crown him with laurels, sister,” Caracalla tilted his head to the side. The servant approached from behind holding the pillow to present to her.

Y/n stepped forward, taking the golden headpiece from the pillow it rested on and raised it over her fathers head. Their eyes met briefly before Acacius’ traveled down to bow, allowing his daughter to place the heavy crown on his head. When she did, cheers erupted from the crowd, followed by the Senates’ applause.

“Acacius!” “Acacius!” “Acacius!”

“Well done, father,” her whisper reached his ears over the noise. Acacius straightened, small smile returning as gave a curt nod.

“Your praise is most beholden for, my Empress.” His hand encased hers, bringing to his lips to gently kiss. When he let go, he noticed the alert stare from the men behind Y/n. Watching him like a hawk about to feast on its prey.

Y/n clasped her hands in front of her, returning to her husband's side who then motioned for them to begin walking indoors. Acacius led them down the steps into the foyer, the cheers from outside dimming and the four gathered in a close circle to converse while everyone else migrated to different corners. Guards positioned on every column, and servants hustling to keep everything in order.

Geta grabbed two goblets of wine from a table, “In honor of your conquest,” he handed one to Acacius and the other to his wife. “There will be games in the Colosseum,” he and Caracalla grabbed their own goblets from a servant.

Acacius did not appear pleased by the announcement, “I require no games in my honor.” His eyes flickered between the three as he spoke, “Serving the Senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.” He went to click his goblet against theirs, but Geta drew his away before he could.

“You are too modest, Acacius,” he told him, guarded amusement in his eyes. “Does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” It was then he tapped the goblets together, Y/n following before raising it to her lips to taste the sweet liquid inside.

“The glory is yours not mine,” Acacius insisted, “I only ask for some respite from war,” he paused, noticing the way his daughter’s eyebrow raised, her gaze shifting to Geta’s as though she knew Acacius' request was unwelcomed. “To spend time with my wife.”

“Your wife,” Caracalla repeated with a sniff, while Geta moved behind him to place his goblet down and brandish a sword from one of the guards. The emperor stepped closer to Acacius, “Remember the privileges we have granted her? Where is she now to ignore such an occasion?”

“There are victories yet still to come,” Geta surveyed the weapon as he returned to his wife’s side. It shined under the light, waiting to taste blood before being sheathed. “Persia,” it clicked against Acacius’ armor as Geta tapped it on his shoulder. “India.” He tapped the other shoulder, leaving the blade level with Acacius’ neck. “Both must be conquered.”

Y/n, who had yet to speak, watched her father. Anyone else would be trembling with fear at the sight of their loved one with a sword to their neck, but the empress remained poised. No flicker of panic in her eyes. Hands holding the goblet steady. She awaited his answer, observing the way he managed to uphold composure despite the lingering threat pointed at him.

“Rome has so many subjects,” he finally said, not breaking eye contact. “She must feed them.” Then, as though he never believed Geta would follow through with harming him, Acacius lifted his hand and brushed the blade off his shoulder.

“They can eat war,” Caracalla belted with a chuckle. Beside him Y/n’s expression mirrored her husbands. Stoic and dissatisfied.

The sword hitting the ground echoed as Geta launched it away and fell into the pond with a loud splash.

“Your triumphs,” Geta emphasized with a hardened tone. “Will be celebrated,” right hand raised, he presented it to Acacius, “as attribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”

The snarl Acacius held back was not missed by his daughter, who clenched her jaw as he took her husband's hand to kiss his ring. When he pulled away, the empress finally spoke.

“Husband, brother,” she addressed while keeping her focus on Acacius, “might I have a word alone with my father.”

Geta and Caracalla shared a look, both contemplating the request as the tension from the last five minutes had yet to cease. The former appeared reluctant, peering at his wife before nodding to Caracalla. The twin retreated instantly, but not before bidding a glance to the general in warning. Geta leaned down, his hand coming to Y/n’s hip while whispering something into her ear Acacius unfortunately could not hear. “Call for me shall you need to, dilectus meus.” His lips then traveled to her cheekbone, pressing a kiss and Acacius missed how Geta’s hand brushed over her stomach with fondness as he pulled away, leaving the two alone.

“You’d be wise to withhold implications of refusal to a direct order next time you bring victory to Rome, father.” Acacius’ heart skipped, a wave of nerves suddenly filling him at the tone he received from his daughter.

His Empress he should say. After all, he’s the one who put her in that position. The young girl he raised who cried at the sight of a wounded animal or hid under the table when his comrades visited had vanished. In her place was a woman who held the highest position one could have in Rome.

“Forgive me,” he placed his goblet on the table beside him. His thirst quenched. “I meant no offense. My travels have rendered me famished, and the thought of leaving the city so soon after returning is disheartening.”

“I understand,” she mused, placing her own goblet beside his. She assessed him once more before speaking, “The emperors are too occupied with their excitement over the expansion of the empire to consider your words as an objection to their plan for further conquest. Not to mention their eagerness for the games ahead.” She tilts her chin up to add, “I would not worry for any possible repercussions.”

Acacius cleared his throat, moving his arms behind him as he straightened his back. To have Y/n speak to him as a ruler would to her subjects was still unnerving despite the many years since she ordained the title. “That is comforting to hear.”

The soft murmurs of conversations around them filled the space. Geta spoke with Senators huddled by the feast table, while Caracalla occupied himself with his beloved pet monkey, Dondus. With the two distracted, Y/n took advantage and motioned to the hallway leading away from the foyer. “Walk with me.”

Departing, Y/n and Acacius strolled the halls of the palace. Away from prying eyes and ears, allowing them to speak more freely than they were afforded in a place consumed with ambitious men in power.

“The emperor's desire your presence in the palace during the course of these games. We’ve prepared your chambers and hope they are to your liking.”

Acacius withheld a sigh, not liking the idea of residing in the palace despite Y/n being close. He wished to return home, to spend what little time he had left in Rome with Lucilla. And while Y/n didn’t exactly order him to stay, her words left no room for objection.

“That is a generous offer. I am grateful for your hospitality.” He pauses to take in the scenery of the gardens. Several statues, mostly the Gods but one of each of the rulers. Hundreds of flowers lining the bushes. Poppies, daisies, lilies, and roses. Orange, white, pink, and red. Acacius recognized them as Y/n’s favorite, specifically the orange poppies which were rare to come by in Rome.

In fact, the only place in the city where they bloomed was the royal gardens. Now considered the symbol of the Empress.

“Might I inquire, my Empress,” He watched her pluck a poppy, bringing it to her nose. Her expression briefly shifted to one of delight. “When will I be permitted a visit to my wife? I have missed her, just as much as I have missed you, and wish to ensure she was taken care of during my time away.”

Y/n did not meet his eye as she replied, focused on the flower in her hand, “You’d be pleased to know Lady Lucilla was well provided for these last few months, General.” Calling him general instead of father stung, but Acacius did not let it show. Y/n led him to a bench overlooking the pond. “In fact, the emperors proposed a benignant offer the last time she visited the palace.”

Acacius stiffened, dread consuming him at this revelation. Having his wife at the palace when he was away at war always worried Acacius. For he was unable to intervene when senators or the emperors attempted to manipulate Lucilla. As an influential member of Rome’s elite, the daughter of emperor Marcus Aurelius, Lucilla was both feared and adored. Much like the reputation Y/n herself was beginning to garner. Of course, Acacius was confident in his wife and knew she could take care of herself.

But even with his daughter as empress, Acacius felt unease at the ‘what ifs’. One word, one action, could crumble the world around them.

Acacius licked his lips, inhaling before finally saying, “May I know this proposal?”

Y/n told the truth, not a speckle of hesitance. Lucilla would have told him anyway, so why beat around the bush. “The emperors’ wish for her to adopt them.” She did not have to look at her father directly to know his face was coated with shock. And maybe fear.

“Adopt them?”

“As her sons,” she confirmed, plucking another poppy to inspect. “Geta reminded her that during her fathers time, an emperor who lacked a son would adopt another as his heir. As you know the emperors’ mother and father died long ago,” Y/n peered at him over the flowers, watching his reaction. “And though they’d never admit it aloud, they desire the affection one is given by a maternal figure. They view Lucilla as the closest thing.”

In the years they’d been married Y/n learned all there was about her husband and his brother. The dark years during their father’s reign. Their worries for the empire. Geta’s suspicions of the Senate. Their love for theater and bloodshed in the Colosseum. And of course, the loneliness that came from being deprived of a parents’ love.

Time had been her greatest adversary when breaking through the concrete walls Geta had built around him. What she feared would be a heartless marriage, bloomed into one of friendship followed by genuine, passionate, union between the two. Late nights cuddled in bed, exchanging words of comfort. Gifts for any occasion. Staying by each other’s side no matter the situation. Y/n was his pillar of hope, and he was hers. Therefore when it came to the deep feelings Geta stored away, the type an emperor would rather suffer in silence than show his subjects, the only person he shared them with was Y/n.

Acacius had been the most surprised by the ruler's relationship, thinking back ten years prior to the moment he announced the betrothal to his daughter. She was five and ten years of age, Geta two years older. Acacius was an ambitious man, full of fire and rage. Wishing to climb the ranks and earn his place as the top general in Rome’s army after many years of being second to the current one at the time.

At the time the young twins had recently come to power upon the death of their father. The other generals were hesitant to take more lands. Believing the quality of the empire should be their priority. Taking his chance, Acacius, ignoring Lucilla’s headed warnings, promised to continue conquering on behalf of the emperors if one were to take his daughter as their empress.

Neither wished for marriage. The senate knew that. Acacius knew that. The whole damn city was well aware the twins enjoyed the many pleasures they were afforded being emperors and did not desire marriage and children. But they needed Acacius. Needed him to extend their empire to embed their names in the history books.

After weeks of deliberation, mostly the twins arguing over who would sacrifice their freedom of bachelorhood, a letter with the royal seal was sent to the Acacius household. Announcing Emperor Geta’s intent to take the hand of Marcella Acacia. Under the condition they were to wed a week following her eighteenth nameday.

“How could you?!” Tears streamed down Y/n’s face as she sobbed. The opened letter laid on the table where she, Acacius, and Lucilla sat. The young girl pushed off her chair to stand, fury in her eyes, “How could you let this happen?”

“Y/n,” Lucilla reached out to grab her hand but was brushed away.

“Do you believe me to be some broodmare you may sell at the highest bidder?”

“Daughter, you must understand--.”

“What I understand is you have let your greed consume you!” His eyes widened, shocked by her outburst. Y/n didn’t let it stump her, continuing to scream and Lucilla quickly dismissed the servants. “Do not sit there and lie to me about your intentions.”

Acacius stood from his own chair, face hard as he looked down at her, but controlled himself, “You are angry, therefore I will allow this spectacle from you--.”

“Acacius,” Lucilla warned, heartbroken for her step-daughter.

“What my intentions were or are is not of your concern. The matter is said and done,” he steps closer, voice lowering. Y/n continued to silently cry, sniffing as she held her head up to him. While his heart strained at the sight, Acacius did not show it, “We all have a duty, whether we like it or not, Y/n.”

“This was not my duty until you made it so!”

“Enough!” His scream broke through the air, causing the two women to flinch at the volume. “You will marry Emperor Geta and you will become Empress of Rome! Start acting like one.”

Y/n shook her head, throat tightening as a sob threatened to release. “They have not been emperors an entire year,” her voice cracked, chest pounding as the anxiety within her rose. “And already there are whispers of their cruelty.”

“What have I told you about listening to tasteless gossip?” But Acacius heard the stories as well. Word spread of the twins' thirst for blood and savagery. Their rough pleasures with concubines, sending slaves to the Colosseum to fight for mere enjoyment. It was despicable.

And now his innocent, loving daughter was to become the wife to one of them. All by his doing.

Y/n glared, scoffing in disbelief, “It is said Emperor Caracalla impregnated one of his concubines--.”

“A rumor.”

“--and that he ordered her to be executed!” She seethed.

Acacius rubbed a hand over his face before holding it up, promptly ending the conversation, “Emperor Geta has graciously granted you three years to prepare for your role.” Y/n let out a sound of anguish, turning away from her father to cry freely into her hands. “You will remain here, your mother will guide you, and I expect you to listen. I do not want to hear any more objections or indignity. Do you understand?” When Y/n did not reply, Acacius repeated more firmly, “Do you understand?”

Breath catching in her throat, the girl slowly faced Acacius with glistening eyes. She swallowed, mouth dry from crying that when she spoke her voice was hoarse. “I understand, father.”

For the next three years under the guidance of Lucilla, Y/n was prepped to become Geta’s wife. Really it was preparation for her responsibilities as Empress. Geta was a private person so they were at a loss when it came to knowing things he liked and disliked. She wondered if he’d call upon her to meet in person before the wedding. But he never did.

Acacius was promoted and served the emperors as expected by continuing the expansion of the empire. Gaining glory where he became adored by the people. It made Y/n angry. It made her resentful of her father. But she withheld her tongue. Doing what was expected of her.

When the day arrived, as planned a week after her eighteenth nameday, Y/n was brought to the palace alongside her parents, the Senate, and Rome’s elite members of nobility. The citizens gathered at the gates, lining the pathways to get a glimpse of their new Empress in full celebration as the city bells rang. Y/n rode in a golden horse drawn chariot with her father, Lucilla and General Darius behind them. The train of her white dress and veil flowed against the wind. She waved to the crowd, but thankfully they could not see her grim expression that was covered by the veil.

Trumpets and drums sounded as the chariot approached the steps to the palace. The walk up was all but a blur. Y/n gripped Acacius’ arm, letting him lead her into the foyer where everyone awaited. The veil obscured her vision, but she made out the silhouette at the end of the altar.

Geta.

As regal as ever. The spitting image of Jupiter. Or Mars. Or Pluto. Depending on how one saw it.

Y/n’s pounded at a rate she’d never experienced before. So hard against her chest she swore her ribs were beginning to ache. Her palms were sweaty, and the veil began to stick to her forehead from the precipitation that gathered. Squeezing her eyes, she focused on her breathing. Leaning on Acacius as she kept up with pace. The trumpets and drums were replaced by the light melody of a harp.

“May the Gods watch over me,” she mentally prayed, the distance between her and Geta closing in. “And grant me the strength in this moment.”

The two came to a stop, Acacius bringing her hand to lips before handing it to the emperor. Y/n’s jaw clenched, eyes still closed as she felt Geta bring her forward so they were directly in front of the officiant. The traditional wedding versus belted from his lips, calling upon the Gods to grant their favor for the union between their vessel Emperor Geta, and his chosen bride. Proclaiming their marriage to be a symbol of unity, a beacon of hope to Rome and her loyal subjects.

When no one voiced objections, the exchanging of the vows and rings followed. Geta went first as per standard. Plucking the golden band with his sigil from the pillow, and repeating the words of the officiant as he placed it on Y/n’s finger. Squinting her eyes and not glancing at Geta just yet, Y/n picked up the golden band reserved for him with a trembling hand and took his in hers.

“My Lady, repeat after me,” the officiant addressed her. “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.”

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” the vow sealed the promise of consent. Making her his wife both legally and under the eyes of the Gods. ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.’

It was then time for Geta to crown Y/n with laurels, bestowing the title of Empress of the Roman Empire, and secure the marriage with a kiss. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut again when she felt his hands move to grasp her veil. Praying her knees wouldn’t buckle and send her tumbling to the floor. The fabric kissed her cheeks as it lifted, revealing her face to Geta for the first time ever. She felt him fold the veil past her hairline, fingers brushing against her temples as his hands drew back. Sending heat down her spine.

Only when she heard Geta clear his throat did Y/n open her eyes, locking on a pair of dazzling brown ones resembling melted chocolate. So striking it made her still.

He was beautiful. Captivating. His beauty was spoken of during the course of their betrothal by guests at her home, but no words compared to the sight of him before her. The man deserved to have statues and portraits of him throughout the empire. Bewitching every man and woman to cross his path.

Y/n gulped, the action noticeable by how Geta’s eyes drifted down. As their eyes locked once more, they held the stare for what seemed like forever. For Y/n, she experienced a feeling she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t butterflies, it wasn’t her mind telling her to run. It was calm. Like when the ocean became stagnant after a powerful storm. As though all the anxiety she battled leading up to this moment was vanishing. There was still an underlying concern, but staring into Geta’s eyes, she saw something in them she believed was understanding. Sympathetic.

“Ahem,” the officiant drew their attention back, Geta’s soft expression replaced by annoyance, making Y/n stunned by the sudden shift. The officiant seemed so as well by how he stammered out, “the ah--the laurels, my Emperor.”

The laurels. Laid on a purple pillow made entirely of pure gold. A symbol of her title.

Geta’s hands seize the crown, lifting it up and making a show of it to the guests before hovering it over Y/n’s heads. At first her gaze remained on the floor, but, with a sudden urge of confidence, Y/n met his eyes. And just like the first time, everything around them blurred. Leaving them as the only two in the world. Gods how she wished she knew what he was thinking. If he was undergoing the same feeling as her.

Geta’s movements were slow. Placing the headpiece on Y/n with accurate precision it took her breath away. The veil and her hair beneath it. Once satisfied with his work, Geta’s hands slid down, brushing her cheeks on its journey until he cupped her chin and drew her to him as he leaned down.

Y/n inhaled, heart stuttering as she leaned into his touch, meeting his lips in a tender kiss. Their noses grazed, making her eyes flutter shut. Seeing it as it was her first kiss, Y/n kept still and allowed Geta to take the lead. It was a simple press of mouth to mouth, but enough to create heat in every cell in her body; she felt like a volcano preparing to erupt.

Lasting only mere seconds, the two pulled away at the explosion of cheers. The walls of the foyer echoing with the applause and the blessed words from the guests. Y/n, however, did not turn to face them, her focus completely on Geta. Who in turn, only had eyes for her.

At the feast table, Y/n sat in between Geta and her father. On the opposite side of Geta was his brother, beside him Lucilla. Not having an appetite, despite the array of foods presented to her, Y/n snacked on a bowl of pomegranate seeds. Mindlessly at first, but then as she brought another seed to her lips she paused. Pulling it away to examine it, her mind wandered to the tale of Proserpina and Pluto.

The beloved Goddess taken by the God of the Underworld to become his Queen. And how the consuming of pomegranate seeds sealed her fate.

How ironic.

Swallowing thickly, Y/n shook the thought away and resumed eating. The sweetness hit her taste buds and she chased it with the bitter wine.

By the time the feast ended Y/n’s face hurt by the amount of fake smiling she did towards senators and their wives. Genuine ones were reserved for the servants, albeit small ones. And whenever she and Geta happened to lock eyes her expression was rather tight, but managed to convey a sense of comprehension.

Saying goodbye to her parents proved difficult. Y/n wanted to avoid it all together but it was inevitable. No longer was she under their care and protection. Her place was beside Geta, ruling Rome and all she owned. If she desired a visit with her parents they’d have to come to the palace, or she’d have to get her husband’s permission to go to them.

Lucilla hugged her close, pressing a tender kiss to her temple while whispering, “All will be well, my darling girl. The Gods will protect you, and I promise to visit frequently. Write to me as often as you please.” Y/n’s bottom lip quivered, but she kept herself together.

“Thank you,” she murmured with a sniff. “For everything.” Lucilla had been in Y/n’s life since she was nine years old when she married Acacius following the death of her brother Commodus at the hands of the mighty gladiator Maximus. Her own mother died of fever two years after her birth, and Lucilla raised Y/n as her own.

Pulling away from the hug, Lucilla bowed in respect, beaming softly at her daughter, “My Empress.” Water pooled in her eyes, Y/n tilting her chin down before watching Lucilla depart down the steps to wait for Acacius. When he came forward, a lone tear finally spilled from Y/n’s eyes. Cascading down her cheek until meeting her jaw where it fell and hit the floor.

Acacius’ expression was one of anguish. Guilt. A Y/n swore she saw regret. But whatever regrets her father had did not matter. He signed her fate three years prior, and now he was reaping what he sowed.

“My Empress,” He bowed. Y/n inhaled sharply, straightening as she stared at him.

“Father.”

“This is where I leave you, but rest assured I will visit as soon as I can. I am off to Hispania and should return in time for Saturnalia.”

“Then I bid you good fortune on your journey,” Y/n clasped her hands in front of her, twiddling with the rings on her fingers. “And may the Gods protect you for what you may face ahead.”

For a moment they just stood there. Staring at each other. Unsure of what to say next as the relationship between them was forever altered. At one point in time Y/n adored Acacius. She prided herself on being the daughter of an esteemed general. Favored by the people and those in power. She remembered the relief when he’d return home from battle. The excitement of opening gifts he’d brought her. The late nights spent hearing his tales.

“Daughter,” Acacius began, licking his lips as he tried to say the words he’d been thinking about all night. “I--.” Y/n cut him off with a raised hand.

“Please, I do not wish to hear excuses, apologies, or affirmations. As you told me when this was arranged, what is done, is done. I’d rather we’d leave on a civil note, than attempt to reconcile any misforgivings we have toward each other.” Pausing Y/n contemplated her next words, but knew if she never said them it would plague her mind for eternity. “All I have left to say is this, you pride yourself on your honor. You gained so much in your service to Rome, and now you’ve acquired more by your now status as father to her Empress.” Acacius swallowed thickly, Y/n exhaling as she studied him with an unreadable expression. “While part of me understands why you went the lengths you did to achieve such honor, I require time before I can find myself forgiving you.”

This is what Acacius was afraid of. That Y/n still held bitterness for his actions. His shoulders dropped in defeat, “I understand.” It pained him to say it, but knew better than to defend himself. “ I…hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day, daughter.”

“I do as well,” she agreed softly, “But this is the cost of honor, General.”

Hearing her call him ‘general’, and not ‘father’, felt like a blade to the chest. Acacius wanted to pry the word from her vocabulary and never have her utter it again. It lacked the warmth and love calling him ‘father’ had. General was what his subordinates called him. It was what senators called him. Not his daughter.

He was about to reply when a guard approached, drawing their attention. “Emperor Geta has departed, my Empress. He sends a message; he will accompany you in your chambers momentarily.” It took every ounce of her not to physically recoil. Nodding firmly as she thanked the guard who then bowed and took his leave.

Stepping forward, Y/n offered her hands to Acacius, “Take care of yourself and Lucilla, father. May the Gods watch over you in these coming months.” He took them, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles then leaning to kiss the middle of her forehead. Just below the laurels.

“Goodbye, daughter.”

As Acacius descended the steps to the awaiting chariot, Y/n watched from the top. Letting the tears fall freely when her hand fell back to her side after waving goodbye to her parents. She didn’t care that there were guards posted on the side. Nor did she care of the onlooking citizens watching from afar.

Releasing the emotions, out in the open, was the most liberating feeling she had all week.

“Your majesty,” a servant assigned to Y/n gently called out, “It is time to ready you for bed.”

Wiping her cheeks, Y/n let out a shaky breath before responding, “Yes of course.” Turning to face the servant, Y/n put on a brave face and followed them to her private chambers. Preparing herself with each step for what was in store for her.

Sitting on the ottoman at the end of the bed, finally alone, Y/n leaned her elbow on the mattress, knees bent to tuck her legs so she was leaning against the bed at an angle, and closed her eyes as her hand met her forehead. She was out of her wedding dress, now donning a silk nightgown beneath a flowy robe and the many pins removed from her hair. The air was cool thanks to the open doors leading to the balcony, causing goosebumps along her arms. Geta would arrive shortly, therefore Y/n took advantage of the minute of peace. Knowing what awaited her once he did.

The reality of her new world hit her like a ram. She was no longer just Y/n, the childhood nickname given by her father. She was Empress Marcella Acacia Y/n, wife to Geta and future mother of Rome's heir.

She’d have to sit in Senate hearings, attend games in the Colosseum--which would begin in two days time to celebrate the royal marriage. Her honeymoon would be spent watching men fight to the death for her favor during the day, and in bed performing her duty to Rome. Providing an heir.

“By Fortuna if you hear me,” she prayed aloud, “I call to you for guidance and grant me your favor as I navigate this marriage and the position you and the Gods have blessed me with. Please,” she pleaded with a slight crack in her voice, “if love does not come from this union, at least afford us the sentiment of friendship. At most respect.”

The sudden gush of wind hitting her made Y/n believe for a moment Fortuna had heard her. Sending it as a sign. That she was listening, and she would do her best to watch over the empress. It brought solace.

A moment later her peace was interrupted by the booming sound of the chamber doors opening. Sighing, she remained in her position, but shifted her head so it laid on her palm. Opening eyes, she saw Geta emerge from around the privacy screen that separated the bedroom from the rest of the chamber. He too was out of his grand attire. Sporting a red and gold robe tied at the waist and slippers on his feet.

“Hello,” she greeted, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure what exactly to call him. He hadn’t granted her use of his name. Emperor was the formal and likely appropriate title, and husband felt odd.

Geta approached slowly, expression neutral which made it hard for Y/n to figure out what he was thinking. He gave a curt nod, “Empress.”

The title made her shudder, shifting on the ottoman to make space for him. “Forgive me for asking, but how would you like me to address you? In private and in public.” The look of surprise was evident on his face, not expecting her to ask such a question. He sat on the ottoman beside her, leaving a bit of distance between them.

“The proper way to address me in front of others would be my title,” He said affirmably, “Husband would also be appropriate--both in private and about.” Licking his lips, his voice takes a softer approach. “But when it is only us, you may call me by my given name.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered, sitting up a tad straighter. Honestly she hadn’t expected him to allow such a thing. Calling someone by their given name was personal. Intimate. It signified respect.

“Then I must ask you to call me Y/n,” she told him with a small smile.

“Y/n,” He tested her name on his lips.

They sat there for a moment. Basking in the quietness the night afforded. However neither could deny the awkward tension in the air.

“I ah,” Y/n swallowed, face heating up as she tried to look anywhere but his eyes. Fearing she’d fall deep into something she’d be unable to pull herself from. “Might I inquire something of you before we…,” she trailed off, not wanting to say, ‘consummate this marriage.’ “Just for tonight, if you allow me.”

Geta thought for a moment, bringing a hand up to rub his chin. He knew she was stalling, and frankly he was fine with putting off the act for another hour or until the Senate came knocking at the door to see proof. “What is it?”

“I know not to expect much from this marriage.” She swore there was a flicker of surprise hit his face, but she brushed it off. “We have a duty to perform in the eyes of the people, I accept that,” Y/n was cautious with her words. Wanting to avoid any offense that may anger Geta. She heard the rumors of his temper. She did not want to be on the receiving end of it. Ever. “But, if it is possible, I’d like for us to form a basis of friendship?” Now there truly was surprise written all over him. It worried her.

“Well,” He mumbled, stroking his jaw before letting his hand fall back to his lap. “I cannot guarantee that…friendship,” saying it felt odd, “will be up to your satisfaction.” The way her mouth turned down caused his stomach to turn, quickly adding, “But, I can at least promise to do my best.” Her smile returned, and Geta mentally sighed in relief.

“That is all I ask.”

The conversation turned into the two asking questions. Simple ones, but it felt natural. Both genuinely interested in their answers and taking time to process before asking the next. Geta learned Y/n enjoyed reading poetry, she discovered his knack for collecting. She told him her favorite foods, and he told her how he prefers the color red over others.

“What’s your favorite flower?” She asked, placing the goblet of wine he had poured her on the end table after taking a sip.

“I don’t have one,” He glanced away with a frown, taking a sip from his own goblet. “I suppose lilies if I had to choose. The palace gardens are full of them.” Pausing to think before nodding as though satisfied with his answer, he turned to Y/n. “What is yours?”

A tiny smile curled on her lips, “Poppies. Orange poppies.” The answer surprised him.

“Orange poppies?” he repeated with furrowed brows. They were not native to Rome. In fact it was believed the flower grew thousands of miles away from the city. “Those are rare.”

“Likely why I am fascinated by them. My father,” she cleared her throat, feeling a sudden wave of emotion, the memory surfacing. “On one of his expeditions he came across a field of orange poppies--told me it reminded him of the sky when the sun begins to set.” She thought of the nights spent standing on her balcony to watch the beautiful color shine down on the city. It was her happy place. “He brought several home as a gift.”

The fondness in her expression sent an unfamiliar warmth in Geta’s chest. So soft and gentle. She looked like a vision of Venus, so beautiful it made his breath hitch. Leaning back against the mattress, Geta swallowed another gulp of wine, “Do you still have them?” At her head shake he felt disappointment.

“No,” she hummed with a sad smile. “They did however last a long time before wilting. I then pressed them with books to frame on my wall.” She made a mental note to send word to Lucilla to pack the item for her the next time she visited. “To be honest it surprised me they lasted the journey.”

“Where did your father find them?”

Her brows pinch, deep in thought. Geta couldn’t help but think how adorable it was. The way her brows furrowed as her mouth shifted. It was like he could see her mind working to bring her an answer. Pulling into the depths of her memory.

Eventually she shrugs, offering an apologetic frown, “I believe somewhere between Gaul and Germania. Unfortunately I cannot place the exact name or location.”

“That’s alright,” Geta replies, finishing off his wine and discarding the goblet on the end table closest to him. An idea popped in his head, and he made sure to follow through with it in the morning.

Before long there was a knock at the chamber door. “Come in,” Geta called, annoyed at being disturbed. Nerves tickled Y/n’s stomach when a guard emerged, a little astonished to see the two sitting together still in their night robes.

“Apologies, Emperor,” he bowed to Geta, then to Y/n. “Empress. The Senate wishes to confirm the consummation.” The rulers noted how the guards’ focus drifted to the untouched bed. Indicating they had not performed the act. Y/n gulped.

Geta on the other hand waved dismissively, “Inform them they will have their confirmation. When I deem it so.”

“Yes, Emperor,” the guard quickly bowed and departed to avoid being berated. The second he was out of their sight Y/n snatched her goblet and downed the rest of her wine. She was going to need it.

“Well,” she exhaled, wiping at her mouth, missing Geta’s lingering stare of the action. “We should get to it then.” The goblet hit the table with a *clink* Y/n turning to face the man fully and willing herself to calm down. Remembering Lucilla, and even some servants, advice of the marriage act. She’d experience pain and discomfort. Men were the ones who got pleasure, for women they had to endure.

It sounded like a nightmare.

Standing up, Y/n removed her robe leaving her in the sheer night dress, placing it on the ottoman under Geta’s watchful eye. Her body began to tremble, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she brought her fingers to the straps, but was suddenly stopped. “Wait,” Geta, still sitting, placed a hand on her arm. Perplexed, Y/n’s hands froze, turning to Geta to find him tense. “You do not have to remove it.”

“I do not understand….”

“You are uncomfortable,” He stated, making her cheeks heat up. It was the truth, how could she deny it? It was written all over her. Shuffling on her feet like she was preparing to run the hell out of there.

Standing up, Geta moved her hands back down to her side, before placing his on her shoulders. There was something about his expression, along with his gentle touch, that made Y/n’s heart beat faster. Warmth pooling in her stomach as Geta’s eyes flickered to her lips and back to her own. “It will do us no favors if you are not relaxed. It’ll make it far more painful for you,” his tone turned serious, “and I do not wish for that.”

It stunned Y/n to hear Geta be so concerned for her comfort. As though he wanted her to share the pleasures sex had on an individual. She truly was at a loss for words. “I--how?” was all she could say.

Instead of replying, Geta’s fingers trailed down the length of her arms until they met her waist, making her gasp when he lifted her up. Her hands went to his neck to hold steady while he maneuvered them so she was sitting on the edge of the bed and propped her feet on the ottoman, Geta kneeling on the furniture between her legs so they were level.

A warm hand cupped her jaw, bringing her face close to stare deeply into her eyes. “For this to be good for the both of us, I shall need you to trust me.” His nose brushed against hers, hot breath fanning her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

If this wasn’t the sign Fortuna heard her prayers, then Y/n did not know what it was. Here was the man she dreaded for years about. The one who craved bloodshed and war. Who was not afraid to send a man to his death for mundane offenses. Who was not shy about obscene acts with concubines in public. Here he was kneeling before her for consent to the marriage act, taking her feelings into consideration, instead of forcing her to endure it without any care.

After what seemed like forever, brought out of her thoughts by Geta’s finger moving to trace her cheekbone, Y/n whispered, “I trust you.”

He closed the gap between them, his lips pressing against hers so soft it made her head spin. Y/n responded with the same tenderness, gasping when his mouth went to her chin. Then her jaw, then along her neck.

“Lay down for me, my Empress.”

Y/n must have been a favorite among Fortuna. At least that’s what she seemed to believe. As the weeks, months, and eventual years went by, Y/n’s marriage to Geta surprised her every day with the newfound friendship they formed. It was like their match had not been a political arrangement fueled by ambition. Geta was irrevocably devoted to Y/n. Showing not so much in words but with actions.

He filled the library with every literary work. Had the kitchens prepare her favorite meals. Showered her in the lavish silks and gems. There were freshly picked roses or lilies from the gardens on her nightstand every morning. And though they did not share a bedchamber every night, Geta would sit on the balcony of hers at the end of the day where they would have tea and converse. Y/n listened to his vents about the Senate, and complaints of his brother. He’d open up about his frustration with their lack of popularity, to which Y/n offered advice on how to win the people's favor.

There was companionship between the two. Bringing comfort to the otherwise stressful environment being rulers had. And though neither voiced it, they knew there was something blossoming with how they’d light up whenever the other entered a room. The lingering gazes. The brushing of one's hand as they passed. Kisses to the knuckles at Senate meetings and adjusting clothing when it’s out of place. Then there was the tiny detail Geta had dismissed his concubines. Something Y/n had no knowledge of until three months of being married.

Eight months into their first year of marriage, Geta unveiled the project he’d been planning since their wedding night. It had taken months, longer than what he anticipated, but then again he had to send men to Gaul and Germania, find the flowers and bring them back so they may plant the seeds in their gardens to grow them. The journey itself took over five months, then eight more weeks for the poppies to bloom.

“Geta,” Y/n murmured in awe of the hundreds of beautiful orange poppies covering the entire garden grounds. Matching the sky above as the sun began to set on the horizon to end the day. It was exactly like how her father told her when he saw the field all those years ago. Plucking one closest to her, she brought it up to inhale, sighing in content at the familiar scent she had missed. “How did you…?”

“I sent an expedition to Gaul and Germania,” He explained, taking a seat on the bench by the fountain. She joined him, clutching the poppy as though it were a lifeline while gaping at the man with utter adoration. Their closeness spread heat between the two, and Geta cleared his throat before speaking again, “Thought you might enjoy having your favorite flower steps away rather than miles.”

Her heart soared, so much so it made her eyes water. “I do not--I do not know how to even begin expressing my gratitude for this gift.” Peering at the poppy she traced one of the petals, the smoothness glided along her fingertip. “This is absolutely perfect, Geta. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You are welcome,” he replied sheepishly, tugging at the fabric of his toga around his neck. Suddenly feeling hot despite the cool breeze. He froze when Y/n skidded closer to him on the bench, making their thighs touch. Time stopped with only the gentle sound of the fountain and birds flying above reminding them where they were. His eyes never left her figure as she leaned forward into his space. Y/n secured the poppy on the lapel of Geta’s toga so it was tucked between the fabric and his golden shoulder plates. The orange color contrasted with the white and gold. Come to think of it, the flower matched his hair. And Y/n wondered if it was a sign from the Gods that the color of her favorite flower would remind her of her husband’s hair and vice versa.

Adjusting it as best she could so it would stay, Y/n tapped the petals a final time before retracting her hands. However when she went to place them in her lap they were caught by Geta, his mouth colliding with hers in a kiss full of passion. “Hmmph!!” Catching her off guard it made her gasp, allowing Geta to slide his tongue past her lips and deepen the kiss. Her palms went to his cheeks, bringing him closer as his arms went to her waist. Hauling Y/n into his lap to press their chests together.

“Never did I believe the Gods would permit me the privilege of receiving genuine, raw love,” Geta pulled away from the kiss, his eyes still closed and tone dropping an octave with reverence. “Nor did I believe I’d be capable of giving it to someone. For all my life I was deprived of love, save for the piece reserved for my brother.” His eyes fluttered, peering up at Y/n as his hand glided along her back affectionately and it brought goosebumps on her arms. Her breath hitched at the way he was looking at her.

“I--,” he gulped the saliva that had piled in the back of his throat. “You have bewitched me, Y/n. Beyond anything I could have imagined. You consume my every thought--when I sleep you fill my dreams,” Once the confession left his lips Geta could not stop, cupping the back of Y/n’s neck to hold her close to him. All the emotion that had been building up for months finally released like a dam. “Since you have come into my life I cannot see a future where you are not in it. You are my anchor for when I feel lost at sea,” Inhaling Geta finished with, “These last eight months I have grown to love you, Y/n. And I hope you have come to feel the same.”

There it was. The four letter word that held so much power. The one that if anyone had asked Y/n four years ago when she was first betrothed to the emperor that she’d hear him declare it in the palace gardens surrounded by her favorite flower, she’d have told them they were mad.

He waited for her reply, growing wearing with each second that passed. It was the most vulnerable Geta had ever been, and he felt he might vomit if Y/n didn’t say anything. The fear of rejection plaguing his mind.

That fear diminished when Y/n brought him into a kiss that took his breath away, much like he did to her. His arms tightened around her, not letting an inch separate them as he met her kiss feverishly. The one on their wedding day may have signified their union, this one represented their undying love for each other. A beacon of hope for their future.

“I love you, Geta,” her mouth caressed his with every syllable. Pressing soft pecks each time they met, he shuddered beneath her touch. “I think I have for some time, but was too afraid to say anything when I had said on our wedding night I did not expect anything out of this marriage. And I’d be lying if I said I was not fearful of the kind of man rumors painted you to be. But I was wrong,” she brushed a strand of his flaming hair away to hold his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “You have enchanted the very depths of my soul.” She kissed him once, “Ubi tu Gaius,” she kissed him twice. “Ego Gaia.”

They sat there, on the bench overlooking the fountain pongs, tangled in each other's arms within a field of poppies as the sun departed and allowed the night to take claim of the sky. Between kisses they sighed and breathed each other’s air. And at times they simply stared into the other’s eyes. Neither needed words to vocalize the emotions pouring out of them.

And when Geta took his wife to bed that night, he sent word to the servants to move his things into hers when morning arrived. For they would not be needing separate chambers anymore. When the day ended the emperor would remain with his empress. Having tea on the terrace before he’d lift her up and carry her to their bed. Where he’d worship her for hours with only the Gods to bear witness and repeat the action the next morning.

Acacius returned home in time for Saturnalia just as promised, arriving at the palace for the celebrations with Lucilla in hand, both excited to see their daughter for the first time since the wedding. But when they came face to face with the empress, Acacius saw first hand the fruit that bore from the seed of his ambition. Y/n and Geta were no mere strangers, they were not emperor and empress. They were husband and wife. He knew then that any loyalty reserved for him perished. Her allegiance was for the man feeding her pomegranate seeds and kissing away droplets of wine that may have fallen from her lips.

Thinking back to the last words Y/n spoke to him, Acacius realized then what truly was the cost of honor.

#Spotify #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #empress!reader #emperor geta x female reader #gladiator imagine #gladiator 2 imagine #gladiator fanfiction #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn

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keeryhours · 6 months ago

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an heir for an emperor - emperor geta

Emperor Geta x Empress! female! reader

Masterlist

Emperor Geta Masterlist

Summary:

The Emperor wants an heir.

part 2 out now!

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), major breeding kink, porn no plot

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N:

This is inspired by a character letter I got that I can’t stop thinking about. If this is historically incorrect I’m so sorry, I’m just horny as hell for this man.

—

It had been three blissful months of marriage with Geta.

The ruthless emperor was something different when he was alone with you. A side of him no one else was privileged to see. He was soft, affectionate, eyes only for you.

He knew you didn’t care for the bloodshed of the games, but he loved having you accompany him all the same. He would distract you when things got to be too much, holding your hand and even turning his attention away from the spectacle to comfort you if you needed it.

He couldn’t show his soft side in public often, but his love and adoration for you was obvious.

You enjoyed the finer things in life. You loved to attend the theatre, the plays and displays of beautiful music. Music was your favorite thing, and you loved to sing. Your singing voice was of the angels, as Geta would say, and oh how he loved to make you sing.

One thing both you and Geta were looking forward to was producing an heir. You had always wanted a family. You had felt the call of motherhood since you were a child, dreaming of the day you would marry and bear children. You hadn’t even fathomed of being an Empress, however.

You came from a rich family, and always knew you would marry highly, but Geta had been unexpected. The second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were to be his. You had no choice in the matter, but you would have chosen him a million times over anyway.

He had planned a romantic weekend getaway for the two of you alone, in one of his villas outside of the city. Leaving Rome in the hands of his brother and the Senate wasn’t ideal, but he wanted the chance to spend time with his beloved without interruption.

“You look divine, Carissima,” Geta remarked in adoration, his hands roaming the fabric of your tunic, gaze hungry. He pulled the fabric higher, lifting it up and over your body. “You will provide me with the most perfect heir.”

Naked before him, your nipples peaked among the cool air on your body, Geta dipping his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked on it, tongue running over the sensitive bud. You moaned, hand resting on the back of his head. He moved to the other, giving it equal attention.

He lay you gently down on the bed, before removing his own clothing and moving over top of you. His crown still sat atop his ginger locks, and he looked as regal as ever, bared to you and cock achingly hard, all for you.

“I never imagined I would have such a luminous beauty as my wife,” he hummed, lips trailing along the skin of your neck. “Never could I have imagined a beauty like yours existed. You are sent from the gods themselves.”

“As are you, my beloved,” you said, eyes falling closed at the feeling of your husband’s lips upon your body. “You are more than I ever could have hoped for.”

Geta smiled tenderly, before pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back eagerly, hands sliding around his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your palms, your innocent touch making him impossibly harder against your thigh. His tongue slid across your bottom lip, and you let him inside, tongues dancing together.

He rested his weight on one arm while the other roamed the soft skin of your side, making you shiver beneath his touch. “Magnificent,” he remarked purely to himself. “Beautiful.”

He pulled away from you, sitting on his knees as he spread your legs for his view. You took in the visage of your Emperor before you, looking regal as ever as he gazed down at your core like it was his next meal.

“Just a taste, Carissima, before I fill you,” he said, moving down between your legs. You gasped as you felt his tongue against your pussy, licking up to your clit, where he sucked gently, causing your back to arch off the bed.

“Geta-!”

He hummed in appreciation, a smirk felt against you as he continued to devour you, lapping up all your slick like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. You moaned loudly - no one would be able to hear you here, you were in Geta’s private villa far from the bustle of the city. It was the most uninhibited you had felt as you let the proof of how good your Emperor made you feel fill the air.

“That’s it, my love, sing for me,” Geta praised you, before dipping his tongue into your hole, driving you mad. You grabbed onto his hair as you felt your orgasm approaching, needing to hold onto something. Geta chuckled lowly as he grabbed onto your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for him.

“I’m…I’m…”

“I know, darling, let go for me,” He said, moving back up to pay special attention to your clit once more. The harsh suck he left on the sensitive bud sent you over the edge, and you were cumming hard, grinding against his face as he moaned and eagerly licked up all you gave him.

When he rose from between your legs, his mouth and chin glistened with your wetness. He looked absolutely sinful. He wrapped his hand around his cock, rings glittering on his fingers. He pumped himself a few times as he looked down at your already-wrecked body.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed so deeply, my love. Over and over again until it takes, until I get to see your belly round and full with my heir.”

You wanted that more than anything, the idea making your heart race in your chest. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance, and he leaned over your body again as he pushed inside.

It had only been three months, so you were still getting used to the intrusion of him when you’d lay together like this. You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers digging into the strong muscle of his biceps.

“You can take it, my love. So good for me - gods, so tight and hot.” He began a slow pace, mindful of letting you adjust to the size of him. He groaned beautifully as he began thrusting into you, and you were struck with how lucky you were to see your Emperor like this, so open and vulnerable, face contorted in pleasure because of you.

“Are you ready for me to move faster?” he asked, voice strained from holding back his true desire. The Emperor pleaded with no one, but his eyes told a different story.

“Yes, please,” you breathed, now that the pain has faded you wanted, needed more. “Please, Geta, need you to fill me.”

Geta groaned loudly, hips stuttering against you as he picked up his pace. He was truly fucking you now, left hand gripping your hip to hold you where he wanted you as he pounded into you. “I will do just that, Carissima, fill you so deeply with my heir. I wish to see you, glowing and beautiful with child. I will hold games in your honor.”

He pressed his lips to yours once again, kissing you deeply, showing you just how much he loved you with his body. Between the feeling of his glorious cock pressing deeply inside of you, pressing against that perfect spot he reached every time.

“You are magnificent,” he moaned, regal head thrown back on his shoulders, muscles clenching as he fought off his release. “Divine. Miraculous. All mine.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you writhed beneath his movements, and he moved his free hand to caress the side of your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my Emperor,” you said, returning all the affection in his gaze.

“Need to feel you cum for me, my love,” he said, hips picking up speed as his own release approached rapidly. He moved to grip your thigh around his waist, moving into you at a new angle that had you seeing stars.

You cried out as your second orgasm hit, and Geta smiled cockily, knowing he was the only one who could bring you such pleasure, the only one privileged to see you like this, falling apart on his cock for him.

“Oh gods, Geta, yes-!”

“That’s it, my love, let me hear you,” Geta rasped out, his own release hitting him seconds later. “Take me, my beloved, take all of my seed! Gods yes, let me fill you, take it all,” he rambled on as he shot ropes of his hot cum deep inside you, pushing in as deep as possible to not waste a drop.

He stayed buried inside you as you both caught your breath. His strong chest was heaving with his heavy breaths, and he tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, looking at you with such love it made your heart stutter in your chest.

When he pulled out, he looked between your legs, gathering up his release that had spilled out of you with his fingers and pressing it back inside. “Cannot afford to waste a drop, Carissima,” he told you with a smile.

You giggled, totally blissed out from the pleasure he had just provided you. He lay his naked body on the bed next to you, resting his hand on your stomach.

“I truly cannot wait to see you carrying my heir,” he mused quietly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin of your abdomen, as if he were picturing it. “Our child.”

“Neither can I,” you told him, a blissful smile on your face.

“I would do this over and over again, as many times as it takes.”

You laughed, snuggling against the side of your Emperor. “I know you would.” You hummed, fingers trailing over the taut skin of his muscular chest. “I love you.”

“And I you, my beloved.”

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intoanotherworld23 · 6 months ago

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His Delicate Flower Of Rome

Summary: when Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius’s daughter he knew he had to have you, and when the opportunity was right he wasn’t holding back

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, slightly dom Lucius, submissive reader, smidge of spanking

A/N: hello my lovelies! I was genuinely surprised that there isn’t more fics of Paul or Lucius out there so I wanted to write something for him, and hope everyone likes it and share your thoughts on if I should keep writing for him! If you wish to be added to a tag list please let me know! Or if you have any requests do not hesitate to submit it to my inbox! Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thank you! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

"That's it flower, that's a good woman." Soft praises echoing in your ear as you sank down on Lucius's erect length. His calloused hands caressing your skin so tenderly. "Are you feeling all of me?"

"Mhm." Struggling to find the right words as you concentrated more on adjusting around his cock. Twisting your face in an unusual manner he couldn't resist as he leaned forward to place light kisses on your heated cheeks and temple.

"Do the gods hold your tongue? Can you not speak?" Keeping his voice deep and low as his words teased you.

"Lucius please." Whimpering pathetically as you continued to grind your hips back and forth. Lucius chuckling at how eager and desperate you were for him.

"Do you enjoy fucking gladiators? Does that moisten your thighs? Does your father know what a whore you are?" He taunted you as you bit your bottom lip realizing that his words held more truth than you wanted. Soon as Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius's daughter he wasted no time in seducing you. "I've been longing to feel this cunt around me for too long."

He loved the feeling of your skin touching his. The way your body had molded into his so perfectly. A fierce bloodthirsty champion of the arena was holding you like a delicate flower. Lucius was enjoying this way more than he intended, and was already planning on never letting you go.

"Gods you are tight." Large hands holding the fat flesh of your thighs his thumb stroking your skin soothingly. Feeling so warm and incredibly deep. "You have not been fucked the way you should be."

Nodding your head in agreement unable to speak as you wrapped your hands around his thick neck. Beginning to tremble as you moved your legs to raise yourself better. Lucious guiding your hips now as he looked down to where you two were connected.

"Take it easy I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Noticing how aggressively you were bouncing on his cock. Even as his hands swatted your backside in warning you still continued to ignore him. So lost in the clouds you didn't want to come down.

"I can do it Lucius." Assuring him with such innocent eyes he couldn't help but smirk at how badly you wanted this. "Gods you are so big."

"Fuck." He grunts before pulling your body on top of his as he laid along the bed. He was surprised how soft it was considering he had been sleeping on stone for so long.

Gasping as he lifted his knees and started to pound into your cunt with absolutely no mercy giving you exactly what you wanted. His lips warm and desperate as they peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His hands keeping a firm grip on your ass using it as leverage.

"Oh gods." Crying out as he growled in your ear with such animosity it had a shiver running down your spine.

"The gods will never make you feel like this." Hissing into your ear and in just mere seconds tears are glistening in your eyes with such intensity. "Only my cock can bring you to such pleasure."

"Yes, my champion." We're all the words Lucius needed to hear before he suddenly flipped you on your back his cock never slipping from inside you. Grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders, as he got right back into the same rhythm.

Drilling into your sweet spot as he leaned forward slightly his face right above yours. Lucius was oozing with confidence in everything that he did. Whether it was in the colosseum or the bedroom. Bit surprised that a man like him would want anything to do with the generals daughter.

"I'm close." Informing him as your body started to shake a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach. Head tossed back in complete ecstasy as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Let go I am right here." Cooing into your ear like he was revealing his secrets. His deep and seductive tone was sending you right over the edge.

"Oh gods." Crying out as your orgasm was swiftly approaching still sensitive from your previous release by his tongue. Lucius looking down at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control, and held all this power in your pleasure. It made him feel like a god.

Your senses were extremely heightened, and feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable. Not sure how much longer you could hold on. Lucius could sense this, and he knew what would help relieve you.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes." He instructed to which you immediately followed not seeing that he was reaching a hand down between your bodies to your puffy clit. Rubbing rapid circles making you scream hands scratching along his back surely leaving marks.

Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused. Feeling his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs as he stayed still inside of you.

“The gods have surely blessed me on this night.” Speaking trying to catch his breath as he smiled down at you.

“Seems the gods bless you every night.” Moving from underneath him his cock slipping out as he laid next to you. The only sound you could hear was the water fountain outside of your room, and the crackles from the fireplace. Expecting Lucius to gather himself, and never speak to you again.

“Take comfort in my arms, and I will hold you while you sleep.” Pulling your body against his before you could say anything. The unexpected gesture made you feel something that you’ve never felt before. “Sleep my delicate flower.”

#paul mescal imagines #paul mescal smut #Paul mescal #Paul mescal blurb #Paul mescal x reader #lucius verus #Lucius verus smut #Lucius verus x reader #Lucius verus blurb #Lucius verus imagines #Paul mescal fic #Paul mescal fanfiction #Lucius verus fanfiction #gladiator ii smut #gladiator II #gladiator 2 #gladiator

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megalony · 5 months ago

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Maimed My Wife

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine that turned out rather long. I'm very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please tell me what you think.

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Summary: Geta is very protective of his wife. And when a General in the palace attacks her, he sees to it personally that said General will no longer be a threat.

Enjoy.

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A deep warmth spread through (Y/n) and her mouth curved into a tender grin when a familiar pair of lips attached themselves to the side of her neck. Silently, she inclined her head to the left, allowing more access while she tried to keep her focus on the book in her hands.

Her fingers skimmed across the corner of each page, an action she had done for long enough that the corners were starting to crinkle as if they had been dampened with water. Each page was still pristine and crisp, but there was a small, noticable mark of wear and tear in the corners and the remnants of ink smudged across the side of the pages when each one had been turned.

The words began to blurr on the page the longer (Y/n) felt Geta's administrations on her neck continue. Added with the movement of his hands which were fiddling with the fabric of her dress and the belt around her waist, he was making it very hard to concentrate.

Geta's arms were encircled around (Y/n)'s waist as if he were caging her in his embrace, not that she ever wanted to leave.

It wasn't often that they could scrape moments together like this without having some kind of audience or interruption. Being here, just the two of them with no guards or family or servants hovering nearby, it was heavenly. It was a sense of serenity.

(Y/n) re-read the same two lines for what felt like the tenth time until they finally seemed to sink in and she could focus on reaching the bottom of the page. But when Geta's teeth sank down against her lower neck near her shoulder, she was sure he was trying to leave a visible mark. A signal that she was his, she was taken. As if no one already knew who she belonged to.

The book started to tap against her knees that were drawn up so her feet could press down into the sofa and steady herself. The words weren't making sense anymore, she wasn't really paying attention.

(Y/n) hadn't been in the library long before Geta wandered in, knowing this was exactly where his wife would be. As soon as he sat down with her, (Y/n) knew her book would end up being forgotten and would have to be finished another day. Even as Geta murmured into her hair that he just wanted to sit with her as he had a moment to spare, and the promises he uttered into her skin that he wouldn't be a distraction. (Y/n) knew he would be.

Her chest leaned further back into Geta's chest until she was reclined against him and her head fell back against his shoulder. He was sat slightly slouched down into the sofa while (Y/n) was sat sideways so she could be tucked into Geta's arm. It didn't take long for him to twist and curve both arms around her and attach to her like he had been apart from her for days, not hours.

"You're making this difficult." (Y/n) murmured with a sly smile, already residing to the fact that she was giving up with reading for today.

"Hm, I can tell."

Her hand draped across the sofa, fumbling about to try and find the speckled feather she had been using as a bookmark for quite some time now. Once it was slotted safely in place between the pages, (Y/n) leaned forward to set her book down on the other end of the sofa.

The library was (Y/n)'s sense of peace. She had been thrilled when she moved into the palace after marrying Geta and he showed her the library. He had quickly realised that if he couldn't find his wife anywhere, this was where she would be hiding. Buried in the books the library provided, catching up on her Latin and Greek and delving into the mythical stories each book provided.

Geta understood her love of books, even if he didn't read half as many books as her. He had been tutored well. He and Caracalla had been taught to read and write since the moment they could stand on their own two feet. Emperors had to be well-schooled and be given rich educations. Geta wanted the same for his children, even if he wouldn't go about it as strictly as his parents had. And he had promised himself never to treat his children the way his father had treated him and his twin.

He began to feather his fingers up and down (Y/n)'s waist, grinning into her neck at the way she squirmed against him and moved her hands down to clasp over his wrists now that she wasn't holding her book.

When Geta lifted his head, (Y/n) turned and angled her head up so she could peck his cheek.

She took the chance to admire his pale features, amplified with a lacquer of paint to make his features more ghostly and frightening. On anyone else, (Y/n) was sure looking so pale and deathly would look a horrid sight, but on her husband it was enchanting and regal.

One hand reached up to brush a stray strand of bright orange hair away from his dark eyes that fell closed as he leaned into her touch and nudged his nose against her wrist.

Moments alone like these were few and hard to grasp, Geta liked to bask in them for as long as possible before they morphied into something else or became broken by interruptions.

He continued to glide his fingertips along her waist, drawing patterns into the pure white dress that crinkled and ruffled along her thighs and over her bent knees. He liked how her dress contrasted to the golden clothes he was wearing beneath the cold golden armour over the top. When being seen out in public, Geta was used to wearing his armour. It was for spectators as well as his own protection. They never knew what people were lurking around each corner.

While Geta had his eyes closed, (Y/n) took the opportunity to turn around so her back was no longer against his chest. She moved round so she was knelt up beside his thigh, now able to loop her arms around the back of his neck and lean her chest flush against his.

Her touch was surprising but very welcome and Geta's hands moved to cup her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as he leaned further back and tilted his head so he was gazing up at his wife. His own Goddess.

The word "Beautiful," passed his lips as he gazed at her in splendor before he leaned forward to capture her in a kiss. The touch was soft and warm and loving and (Y/n) gasped into his mouth when she felt his teeth bite down on her lower lip.

(Y/n) began to stroke her thumb up and down the back of Geta's neck, brushing against the short hairs and tangling her finger in his longer locks at the back of his head. When she tightened her grip it earned a quiet growl to rumble from deep within Geta's chest. And she felt his hands tighten on her hips in retaliation and he scrunched her dress up between his fingers, just starting to pull up the material as if his intentions were to bunch her dress high around her hips.

She was sure that was what his intention was and she leaned further against his chest to try and deter him. Anyone could walk in. People didn't tend to knock on lounge or library doors the same as they would if the Emperor and Empress were in their personal chambers.

(Y/n) would hate to be caught by anyone if she and Geta were in a compromising position. She knew her husband wouldn't bat an eyelid, but she would.

When she tugged on his hair again and tilted his head back without breaking their kiss, (Y/n) felt his hands give a sharp pull on her hips. He was about to pull her onto his lap and (Y/n) would have obliged, if the wooden doors to the library didn't creak and groan as they opened.

Their lips quickly broke apart and (Y/n) glanced over her left shoulder while Geta let his head drop back against the sofa while he casually looked towards the doors.

A smile instantly formed on his lips and his fingers dug into (Y/n)'s hips, pulling her back down against his chest again when they both saw that it wasn't a guard or a servant requesting something from them.

It was Caracalla, with his niece in his arms.

Caracalla's hair looked rather disshevelled as if he had woken up from a hundred year nap, but he had a bright smile on his features and his head inclined to one side as he waltzed into the library.

He jostled his niece who was perched high on his chest with her little arms draped around the back of his neck and her head nuzzled up against his cheek.

There weren't many people in the palace that Geta would trust with his child. The nursemaid who had been employed with them since the princess's birth, the two guards who were to watch over the princess without fail, wherever she went. And his brother.

When the princess was with her parents or her uncle, no guards needed to constantly have her within their sights. They could walk a few paces back or wait outside the room rather than stand inside and observe.

"Oh, and what are you doing?"

Geta chose to ignore his brother's words and the smile that broadened on his features because they both knew what the couple had been doing.

As the large oak doors closed behind him, Caracalla walked further into the library, looking around the grand room he hardly ever came into anymore. He didn't find books fascinating, his attention span was short these days and with his changing moods, curtesy of his illness, the mood to sit peacefully and engage in a book never came about. He was either much too frivilous or much too riled to read.

But he knew his sister in law was quite often found in here and sometimes this was where he had to come in order to find his niece. Caracalla was immensely fond of her. He was childlike at heart and found he could entertain the little girl and enjoy spending time with her rather than most of the people who frequented the palace.

"She can walk, brother." Geta dropped one hand from (Y/n)'s hip so he could motion his hand towards his daughter.

His daughter had recently learned to walk and it made her much more of a trickster. Geta was forever finding her sliding the rings off his fingers and running off with them, clearly wanting him to play her game and chase her for the jewels.

And now that she could walk, it meant the princess would run into meetings and abscond around the palace with her maid right behind her, unable to stop her from trying to explore and find her parents. Geta never declined when his daughter found her way to the meetings and he would sit her on his lap and let her play with the jewellery hanging around his neck or the rings cladding his fingers while the Senates talked state business. Her presence was calming.

"Where's the fun in that?" Caracalla countered with pursed lips and a huff that ended with him kissing his niece's cheek.

He knew she could walk, she had ran right up to him this morning, clearly wanting him rather than her nursemaid and Caracalla obliged. He dismissed the maid immediately and took to wandering around the palace with the little princess by his side and then in his arms. He loved carrying her around. Why walk when she could be carried like the princess she was?

But he seemed to relent when she started to wriggle and he set her down to her feet so she could toddle across the dark purple and crimson rug with her arms outstretched towards her parents.

(Y/n) slowly turned back around and slumped back down on the sofa so she was sitting beside Geta rather than kneeling up against him. Her lips curved into a grin and her hands draped over Geta's shoulders when he leaned forward to reach out for her.

A squeal burst past Floriana's lips when Geta scooped her up from the floor and leaned back to sit her down on his lap.

"Hi flower," He murmured softly and when her little hands patted his cheeks, Geta obliged and leaned down to kiss her temple.

(Y/n) watched the both of them with fondness amplifying in her eyes and causing a bright smile to etch across her face. Her hands squeezed his shoulders and she leaned forward to perch her chin in the crook of his neck as a little incoherent murmur left their daughter's lips.

She loved to see Geta with their little girl. Although it was frowned upon to have the father at the birth, Geta had burst into the room when he couldn't wait around any longer and listen to his wife's tortured cries.

(Y/n) had been nervous when she had Floriana. She didn't know how Geta would react to a daughter, it was something that had rattled her and caused her many sleepless nights. Everyone had expected her to bear a son, to give an heir to the throne to secure Geta's place as Emperor. Having a girl simply meant everyone would be pressuring her to have a boy sooner or later as if she had done something wrong and she would have to keep retrying until she got it right.

Geta quashed those worries immediately. The tears in his eyes and the bright smile on his face when he held his daughter showed he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. He was enamoured with his little girl and he wouldn't change her for the world. She and (Y/n) were Geta's everything.

The three people in this room with him were his family. These were the people he would give his life for.

"Have you two had some fun?" (Y/n) reached her arm across to brush her finger against her daughter's cheek, watching the little girl giggle and burrow into Geta's chest.

Although her fingers started to tap against the golden armour covering his chest. She couldn't reach his undershirt or his robes. Floriana had a new obsession with hiding herself away in Geta's robes like she was doing some kind of magician's trick. With his armour in the way, she couldn't tuck herself into his clothes or make herself disappear.

"We've been for a stroll in the gardens with Dondus." Caracalla perched on the arm of the sofa nearest to (Y/n) and brought his feet up to rest on the sofa cushion. His sandals began to tap against the cushion and his hands patted his thighs as he continued to smile. He was in one of his good moods today.

When Floriana pushed up until she was stood on Geta's thigh, he tilted back to see what she was doing.

"What are you doing, little one?"

Her hands scrunched up in the collar of his shirt that poked through above his armour and her cheek flopped onto his shoulder near (Y/n) as she pushed into his chest. Geta kissed the top of her head with a smile as he realised that she was tired. She would need a nap now and if he had the time, he would lie right here and let her lay on his chest. He would cuddle her and stay with her as she slept if he could.

"Acacius is back from his venture, we should go and await his arrival." It wasn't like Caracalla to be prompt and ready to follow procedure, but they had sent the General on a mission to conquor lands in the name of Rome. And both Emperors were eager to hear of his triumph and know just how much he had procured for them while he had been away.

"We should." Geta hummed against the top of his daughter's head but the sigh he let out told (Y/n) he didn't really want to leave.

"I think we will stay here and have a nap while you await your victories." (Y/n) turned to gently ease their daughter into her own arms because she knew if she didn't, Geta was unlikely to let his daughter go.

She made a little whine at the movement but once her head was nestled into (Y/n)'s chest and she began drooling on her mother's sleeve, she seemed content. The little girl curled up in her mother's embrace who slouched back into the sofa so her daughter was lying down and could settle to sleep.

(Y/n) was more than eager to stay here in the library where it was quiet and serene. Her baby girl could take a nap and (Y/n) could continue reading while the Emperor's went about their business.

A lot of the ladies in court had told and advised (Y/n) to leave the nurturing of her daughter to the maids.

'That is what they are there for.'

That wasn't good enough. (Y/n) wanted to be with her daughter. She loved to read to her and cuddle her and take walks with her and be in her presence. (Y/n) wanted to be involved just the same as Geta rarely let his girl out of his sight when he wasn't in his meetings. He checked on her at almost every moment of the day, he wanted to be involved when she began to take her lessons and tutoring.

They would both be involved in their daughter's upbringing more than the servants and maids would be.

"Sleep," Caracalla muttered and grazed his fingers against his niece's thin strands of hair before he bounced up from the sofa to take his leave. He had done his job with entertaining her for the morning and now he could go and drown in spendor and victory.

"I won't be too long."

Geta pressed a finger beneath (Y/n)'s chin, tilting her head up towards him so he could steal a kiss from her warm lips. Her touch was enticing him to stay and he hummed against her lips, swiping his tongue against hers in a battle that had him yearning to stay here with them than to go and deal with the victories of Rome.

When (Y/n) finally pulled back for air, Geta groaned and bowed his forehead against hers. He didn't want to leave his girls.

"Rest, little flower." His words were hushed against Floriana's temple which he kissed, twice, and his finger brushed along her cheek before he finally parted from his girls. His eyes lingered on them as he left the library, feeling like he was walking away without his heart that had been left behind with them.

He wanted to be back with them already.

***

After both Emperors departed, it didn't take long for Floriana to drift into slumber, resting against her mother's chest. Her head was tucked against (Y/n)'s neck and she had curled up like a cub, dozing peacefully.

(Y/n) had her cheek resting on top of Floriana's head with one arm draped around her daughter and the other hand expertly balancing her book and preventing the pages from wavering and losing her place.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, tucked up in their own little world of peace together with no disrruptions or people clattering around and making a fuss. It was lovely to spend some time together with her little girl.

(Y/n) could feel her own eyes desperate to close but she powered through, wanting to use this time to read and sit with her daughter rather than fall to sleep and lose the moment.

They had been tucked up together for a long while before a quiet knock sounded at the door and (Y/n) looked over to see the nursemaid poking her head around the door. She wondered if the maid knew instinctively that the princess would be in here with her mother or if she had spent a while searching round the palace for the pair of them. Or maybe one of the Emperors had mentioned in passing where they both were.

It didn't matter either way. The maid walked into the room with a smile gracing her plump features as she looked down at the princess who was just beginning to stir in her mother's arms.

"Would you like me to take the princess for some lunch?"

"Please." (Y/n) nodded and placed the feather back in her book which she set down beside her.

She eased forward until Floriana was forced to sit up on her lap and the little girl rubbed her fist against her eyes to try and wake herself up. Her head lolled from left to right and a yawn escaped her lips as she smiled sweetly up at the maid who reached down to scoop her up.

They both knew if the princess tried walking now she would stumble or lay down with only just waking up and she would dawdle. It would be much easier to carry her back to her room to have something to eat.

(Y/n) pressed a kiss to her temple and brushed her short strands of golden hair away from her little eyes before she was in the maid's arms.

"Are you joining us, Empress?"

"Soon, I'll find the Emperor first." It wouldn't be fitting for (Y/n) not to find out how their meeting with General Acacius had gone- or was still going, depending on how long this meeting would drag out for.

(Y/n) knew the Emperors would entertain the General and want to hear about every triumph and each obstacle he overcame so they knew how to better strategize their next invasion. And she knew as Empress that she needed to take an interest too and find out how things had gone.

She watched with a smile as the maid nodded and left the library with the Princess bundled up in her arms, still half asleep.

(Y/n) wasn't that hungry yet, anyway. She would take a walk to liven herself up and then go and see how things were fairing with both Emperors. Hopefully this meeting would go well and there would be reason for triumph and celebrations. (Y/n) knew both Emperors were desperate to entertain more Gladiators in the colosseum. It wasn't a sport that (Y/n) particularly enjoyed witnessing, but seeing her husband so eager and cheering and giving the casting vote of a Gladiator's life was thrilling to watch.

With her book laid on the small table beside the sofa, (Y/n) stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress that pooled towards her ankles. The pure white cotton always glistened when she walked in the sunlight and Geta always commented that she reminded him of a star with how the light sparkled on her when she wore white. A blinding beauty was how he often described her.

She made her way to the door and headed out of the quiet library, into the corridor that had very limited windows and therefore not much light. The shadows cast darker in this corridor and made (Y/n) feel like she was wandering the palace in darkness rather than the middle of the day.

The sound of her sandals clicking against the stones echoed and bounced off the walls and she slowly descended towards the end of the hall to the stairs.

(Y/n) wasn't too sure whereabouts her husband would be having this meeting with Acacius, but she knew it would be downstairs. Either in one of the drawing rooms or the great hall which they used for meetings with the Senate. The only thing she was sure of was that he and Caracalla would speak to Acacius on their own. Without an audience so they could truly discuss their plans and news.

A gasp tumbled past her lips and she stepped back just before she reached the corridor leading to the stairs when a firm chest almost barrelled into her.

Her left hand pressed into the wall and her right hand pressed against her chest to steady her breathing.

Her round eyes looked up to see who she had almost collided with and she stepped back again to add a bit more space between them and make sure that she wouldn't tumble over.

"Oh, General Caius." (Y/n) nodded her head at the General who stood tall in front of her.

He was one of the men she didn't know too well. (Y/n) knew only a few of the Generals who paraded round the palace and led her husband's armies. Caius was one of the men she was more acquainted with but she never really had many dealings with him. It was usually a smile in passing when he would come to deliver news to the Emperors.

"Empress." He bowed his head to her and (Y/n) watched a smile light up his features.

His smile seemed somehow too large and crooked for his face and the way his beady eyes trained in on her made her chest tighten. Being married to an Emperor made (Y/n) the subject of scrutiny by many people, and it was never something she handled well.

She couldn't help the way she cast her eyes around the hall as if waiting for someone to wander out of one of the rooms and cease this awkward encounter or strike up a conversation.

"Have you seen the Emperor?"

"No my lady." When he stepped closer, (Y/n) tried to form a placid smile as she carefully stepped to the right. "No guards?"

The way Caius cast his eyes around the hall and ticked his head made (Y/n) look behind her rather stupidly. She knew she didn't have guards following her. Geta had agreed to her wishes not to be followed around the palace at every waking moment.

When she had been pregnant, he had been a little less willing and made sure the guards followed at a safe distance behind (Y/n), for his peace of mind. And of course if the princess wasn't with her parents or uncle, she was to be guarded at all times. But Geta had allowed (Y/n) the luxury of not having guards trailing her every movement if she did not want them to.

She only had guards if she left the palace or when they were entertaining company, for curtesy.

Caius knew this. He often did guard duties in the palace from time to time and he knew (Y/n) was different to the Emperors. Both Emperors liked to have guards nearby, they never knew who might be lurking around each corner or when someone might turn into an enemy and attack. Whereas this had never happened to (Y/n) so she had no reason to think it might happen now.

"Good day, General." Dipping her head down in curtesy, (Y/n) scratched her fingers against the palm of her hands as she stepped to the right a little more to try and walk around Caius.

She had no wish to entertain him in conversation today, she wanted to go and find her family and celebrate their victories.

Her eyes trained on the floor, following the cracks in the carefully carved stone but a jolt ran through her system and made her chest tighten horribly when a hand curled around her upper arm. Her feet stumbled over one another and her shoulder bashed into Caius's chest when he roughly pulled her back towards him.

"What's the rush?" His voice seemed to lower an octave and his grin had turned sickening as he stared down at her.

His fingers were starting to grip bruisingly into (Y/n)'s flesh and when she tried to yank her arm out of his hold, he simply reeled her back towards him again.

What was he doing?

"You forget your place. General." (Y/n) held her chin high and ground her jaw as she wrenched her arm out of his hold and fought the urge to reach out and slap him for his indignation.

He had no right to be grabbing her like that. (Y/n) wanted to go and he had no cause to stop her or try to entertain a conversation with her when she said no. All it took was one word to Geta for General Caius to be demoted; not that (Y/n) would ever want to use her status and power like that, but she would if she had to.

"And you clearly don't know yours, my lady." The way he sneered down at her made (Y/n)'s stomach churn but before she could try and bolt towards the stairwell, he grabbed her. Again.

A hand curled around the back of her neck with shuch a viper's grip that (Y/n) felt too afraid to breathe. She felt his other hand press down against the centre of her chest and her tense legs tripped and scuffed her heels against the floor when Caius pushed her back until she was pressed against the wall.

The cold stone bruised her shoulders and her spine ached when she jolted back against the wall, staring up at Caius in terror.

No one had ever been so bold as to do anything like this to her before. They knew who she was married to. They knew the madness that dwelled within her husband and the deep rage that jealousy provoked within him. If someone so much as looked at (Y/n) for a second too long, Geta's arm was around her waist and his petrifying gaze was burning into whoever was looking at her.

He had dismissed men from the palace for staring or hovering too close to his wife and for striking up much too informal conversations with her.

(Y/n) didn't want to think what he would do to a General under his command who laid a hand on his wife and who would try and put her in such a compromising position.

"Caius- that's enough!" (Y/n) clenched her hand around his wrist and tried to force his hand from her chest where he was pushing her so harshly into the wall that the stone was beginning to grate againt her exposed shoulders. But she couldn't seem to move when he all but thrust her back against the wall again and his head inclined closer to hers.

He took two steps closer until the smooth silver armour he wore clinked against her chest. It felt like (Y/n) was trapped between two walls that were closing in on her. At any moment she felt like she was going to be crushed.

When his other hand moved down and had the audacity to grip her hip, (Y/n) let go of his wrist. She reeled her arm back and slapped him across the face with as much force as she could muster.

The blunt force caused Caius's head to propell to the left and it weakened his hand against her chest enough for (Y/n) to push against him and stumble to one side.

Why was he doing this? Didn't he know the punishment for this would certainly be his death? If he went any further in his torturous advances, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stop Geta from unleashing Hell onto him. If he stopped now, if he backed off and let (Y/n) hurry to Geta, then Caius would get away with being stripped of his General status and being exiled from Rome. But if he continued, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stop her husband from taking his life.

"That was bold." Caius rose one hand to his mouth where he could taste blood from where he bit his tongue from the slap. But the way his grin splintered into a sideways smirk showed he wasn't going to stop at that.

(Y/n) screamed when his hand knotted in her hair and dragged her back against his chest, but when a thin hand blade was pressed over her neck, her voice cut short.

"Don't make me use this." He pressed the knife deeper against her throat until (Y/n) couldn't breathe without discomfort, as if she didn't know what he was referring to. "Although I do wonder… does your blood run blue when cut?"

A cry bubbled up in (Y/n)'s throat but she clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes to try and steady herself. Her hands grasped Caius's arm to stop herself from wavering and to try and keep him from pressing the blade too far and cutting off her breathing.

Oh dear.

How was she going to get out of this? How was she going to explain this situation to Geta? Her husband wasn't going to react well. She needed to get out of this now before Caius did something horrible. (Y/n) didn't want to know if he would cut her or not. She didn't want to be hurt with a blade. She didn't want to know what his intentions were or how far he would go or if he would truly try and defile an Empress.

His motives were clear and disgusting.

The word 'no' uttered past her lips and her neck tensed and began to tremble against the blade as she tried to push him back but it wasn't working.

The blade held her in place and when she felt his free hand move to clutch at her lip it felt like his fingers were fangs piercing into her skin. She could feel her dress being scrunched up in his fist along with how tightly he was gripping her skin that would surely bruise beneath his poisonous touch.

With what effort she could muster, (Y/n) rose her knee up and rammed it into his crotch as swiftly as she could manage. But the movement caused Caius to crash forwards into her as he doubled over with a loud grunt.

His face pressed awfully close to hers until (Y/n) could see the emotions bubbling over in his eyes. Rage. Lust. Anger. All of it, mixing together in a sinister concotion that had her stomach churning in fright.

She could barely draw in a proper breath with Caius pressing into her and the blade against her throat. But she tried. She tried to inhale one deep breath that expanded her lungs to the max and allowed her to hold her breath so she could push forward.

She took the risk of pressing her throat further into the blade until she could feel a slight sting and a few droplets of blood dribbled across the blade. It caused Caius to pull his arm back an inch or two.

He didn't want to cut her. He didn't want to use the blade unless he had to. He was smart. He hoped the threat of inflicting pain would be enough to subdue (Y/n) and make her listen to him. Actually harming her wasn't something Caius wanted to do because he knew if he was caught and (Y/n) was harmed, that would be it.

Harming the Emperor's wife was a death sentence and although Caius was playing with fire, he didn't want to get burned.

"Enough!" The word spat past (Y/n)'s lips in a breathless scream and she thrashed her arms out until they bashed down into Caius's elbows, forcing his arms to tense and drop down.

The action caused the knife to slice through her skin. It wasn't deep enough to reach muscle, but it was enough to make (Y/n)'s knees shake in agony and a scream erupted from her lips. The feeling of her skin peeling apart like fruit made her body cringe and writhe. She felt the knife carve from the side of her neck down to her collar bone.

When Caius's arm slid from her frame, the knife roughly slashed against (Y/n)'s dress, cutting the strap across her right shoulder so the material hung loose and barely stayed over her chest.

With her right hand cradling her neck and feeling the blood trickling across her palm, (Y/n) thrust her other arm out until she smacked the General at any angle and area of his body that she could. She flung her left side into him, shoving him back as she tripped over her skirts and stumbled away from him.

Her feet became caught in her dress that was floundering around her like sails caught in the wind and her body slumped against the wall to her right to stop herself going down on her knees.

Tears tumbled down her face as another scream belted past her lips, trying in vain to alert anyone that she needed help. There had to be someone around here. Surely. Someone had to be walking these halls or cleaning the rooms on this floor or just loitering around. There had to be someone who could hear her.

"I will have you!"

Caius's shrill, gritty tone made (Y/n) whimper and she turned around just in time to raise her left arm in defence when she saw the glittering edge of the blade coming towards her. The blade cut through her forearm deeper than the wound to her neck and had her arm trembling and coiling back towards her chest.

Why was he doing this? Why (Y/n)? Was the thought of harming or defiling an Empress worth the price he was going to pay for this?

Surely he knew that if he didn't kill (Y/n), she would tell Geta and that her husband wasn't likely to ignore her. Geta would believe her, he wouldn't never think his wife was lying and therefore Caius would have no defence when Geta found him. He couldn't lie his way out of this situation.

When his hand clenched around her upper arm and gave a rough twist, (Y/n) stumbled towards him. She let herself go limp and allowed him to drag her to her knees before him while her right hand slithered round from her tense, bleeding neck to scrunch her fingers up into her hair.

Caius seemed too interested with the sight of the Empress on her knees before him to notice what she was doing. His eyes were roaming her skin, taking in the sight of her tense throat that was gasping for air and her heaving chest trying to regain enough oxygen so she didn't pass out. He seemed to enjoy the hatred pooling in her eyes that would not look up beyond his chin, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring into those beastly eyes.

He made the mistake of leaning towards her. He made the grave error of letting go of her arm in favour of grasping her chin which he man handled so he could tilt her head back and roughly force his lips against hers. He was so rough that his teeth clashed against hers and caused her lip to cut against her teeth and the touch was sickening.

But the distraction was enough. (Y/n)'s trembling fingers pulled one of the pins from her hair that had previously kept her hair pinned neatly at the back of her head. Tendrils of hair fell loose as (Y/n) clenched the thin metal between her thumb and index finger.

Her watering eyes narrowed and she focused on the General before her as she thrust her hand forward until the pin punctured into his eye.

The action made her stomach churn and she could feel bile rising at the back of her throat as she gagged. The squelching sound made (Y/n) cough through a cry and when Caius roared, (Y/n) took her chance.

She twisted his wrist until the blade punctured through his lower abdomen where the silver armour he wore could not reach to protect him.

Another roar of agony left the General's lips as he crashed to his knees. Blood lathered around his eye socket where his eyelid was pinned closed and blood continued to trickle down his face. His white robes beneath his armour quickly started to change like a magician's trick, turning a horrible shade of crimson.

The wound in his abdomen wasn't as deep as (Y/n) wanted it to be, but she didn't have the strength to push the blade any further when it needed so much effort and Caius's hand was fighting against her, repelling her motion. But the flesh wound was all she needed to escape him.

(Y/n) sank back on her heels and scraped her bloodied hands along the floor so she could turn over and scramble to her feet.

Her hands bunched around her dress, yanking it up so she had no fear or tripping over her skirts as she pelted down the hall.

Tears whipped across her face, horrid wheezing breaths tumbled past her lips causing her chest to heave. And blood coated her previously crystal white dress that was now ruined. She would never be able to wear this dress again. She would never wear white again or look at her white gowns in the same way.

She looked like a ruined work of art.

Blood coated her palms. It dried like flecks of paint along her neck and she could feel slithers trickling down her chest beneath her dress. The fact that Caius's blood was now painted across her dress made (Y/n) want to be sick.

Her sandals slid across the stairs and had her stumbling down three steps at once causing her to grip the handrail before she tumbled down the staircase.

Terrified sounds tumbled past her lips and tears blurred her vision as she gasped for breath, running on adrenaline and fear.

(Y/n) coiled both her arms into her chest and bowed her head, running slightly hunched over to try and rid herself of the pulsing pains coursing through her body in time with her rapid heartbeat. Her eyes aimed on the floor that blurred before her eyes and she ran off memory. It was a relief that she knew this palace like the back of her hand and could run its halls in the dead of night with her eyes closed.

A scream erupted past her lips when her shoulder collided with another and sent her veering to the right.

"My lady-"

(Y/n) recognised the voice of the maid she had clearly barged into, but she couldn't place her name. Her mind was too scrambled to make sense of anything except for the fact that she needed her husband. Now.

"No!" (Y/n) flung her arm out when the maid tried to rest a hand on her shoulder. She didn't care for anyone's touch or anyone trying to help her. It was too little too late. She needed help ten minutes ago when the General had started his attack. Not now, when she had already defended herself and took care of the matter on her own.

Her feet picked up the pace and she was back to pelting unsteadily down the corridor, aiming for the great hall. If her husband wasn't in there then (Y/n) would find the nearest servant and demand them to find him. But she had to keep moving. Standing around in empty corridors was clearly unsafe now. She had to move until she was somewhere safe. With someone safe.

"You have brought great victory to Rome, General. You must be rewarded." Geta's fingers tangled together behind his back while he looked at Acacius stood opposite him and his brother.

They had listened to him reel off the plans of attack, what had worked and what needed improvement. The land he had procured for them and how they had only lost a few good men in their army.

They would plan games in the General's honour, to celebrate what he had done for the good of Rome.

Geta glanced over at his brother who was stood to his right with a beaming smile and a chuckle of agreement. Caracalla was all for celebrations, especially if it meant watching the games in the colosseum. The more blood and guts and gore, the better, in their opinion.

Just as Geta went to say something else, the words faded out on his tongue and he twisted to look behind him over his shoulder when the large oak doors burst open.

Reprimands and arguments flooded his mind as he was ready to punish whoever it was for entering the hall without knocking. Without permission. The servants knew not to interrupt, they knew a meeting was taking place and none of them were needed and should not interrupt.

He found no such arguments getting past his lips when he realised who had burst into the room.

His wife.

Such a belting scream emmitted past (Y/n)'s lips that Geta cringed and his shoulders rose up while his brother flinched and grunted at the noise.

Geta found his jaw hanging open and every part of his body turned rigid at the sight he was faced with.

His wife dropped to her knees once she was two feet over the threshold into the hall. Her body went down with a thump that echoed off the walls and her arms encased around her waist while she leaned forward and bowed her head. Her hair fell all around her in tangled knots and rampid curls that had come loose from their earlier, beautiful style that Geta had witnessed not more than an hour ago.

But it was the sight of his wife's dress that left Geta speechless and on the brink of collapsing himself. Blood. It tainted her dress. It embellished her smooth skin and speckled across her face and mingled with her torrential tears.

"Guards! Fetch the guards- and a healer. Now!" Geta spat the words as he shoved his hand into Acacius's shoulder to get him to move fast.

The General seemed as panicked and confused as both Emperors, but he nodded. One hand moved to grip the hilt of his blade just in case he encountered some thieves or thugs or crazed lunatic running around the palace. Acacius glanced his eyes down at the Empress as he rushed past her, panic and pain filling his gaze as he hurried past her.

He didn't have time to stop and try to help, he had to fetch a healer and alert the guards that there was a clear problem within the palace.

Geta could feel his brother hurrying behind him as the pair of them aimed for (Y/n).

The marbled floor hurt when Geta sank down to his knees before his wife and his hands immediately found her elbows so he could carefully reel her up so she was no longer crumpled over her thighs. He had to know what had happened. He had to know where all the blood was coming from. He had to help her. Somehow.

He couldn't help the way he flinched when he reached out for (Y/n) and her blood and tears soaked into his palms. His teeth sank down into his lower lip while he cupped her face in his hands and began smoothing his thumbs beneath her eyes to try and coax her to look at him.

But as Geta tilted her head back and tried to look her up and down, he didn't like what he saw.

There was a large cut, not too deep but not exactly superficial, going down the bottom of her neck and ended in the centre of her collar bone. And when (Y/n) reached her trembling hands up to grasp Geta's wrists, he tilted back and leaned his head down to look at the wound on her left arm. Blood was coating her arm like a red scarf had been wrapped around her forearm and droplets were splotching onto the otherwise clear marble floor.

Not to mention the fact that the right sleeve of her dress had been ripped, causing the top of her dress to bunch and sit lower on her chest than it had been earlier.

Someone was going to pay for this.

Geta's manic eyes couldn't stop roaming up and down his wife's frame and his hands were at the point of trembling until he was nearly shaking her head in his grasp. He couldn't find any words, all he could do was take note of each mark, each droplet of blood and each scuff mark on her skin. Noting all the discrepencies that someone was going to pay for. Each mark would account for every stab wound Geta would personally inflict on whoever was the cause of this.

"Where is little flower?" Caracalla looked from (Y/n) to glance behind her and then he darted his eyes around the room. His voice filled with a sudden air of panic and his features became enraged with every passing second.

His niece had been with (Y/n) when both Emperors left them. Was she too injured? Was she alright? Did they need a healer for the Princess too? Did the Emperors have to gut someone for daring to harm a hair on both the Empress and the Princess's heads?

A sudden breathlessness took over Geta when the thought of his daughter came to mind. He looked from his brother to his wife, noticing how his brother was starting to huff and his features had gone bright red at the thought of something happening to Floriana.

Where was his daughter?

"W- wi- with the maid. Safe." The words barely spluttered past (Y/n)'s lips. She couldn't find the nerve to speak and her panicked breaths and rapid heartbeat made it hard to utter a proper sentence.

But she had to let them know that Floriana was safe. (Y/n) dreaded to think what the General would have done if Floriana had been in (Y/n)'s arms when he approached her. Maybe he would have resisted and carried on walking. Maybe he would have hurt the princess too in order to get to the Empress. Perhaps he would have tried to drag (Y/n) away from her daughter. The possibilities were endless and each possible outcome made (Y/n) shudder and whimper. Thank the Gods her daughter had been and still was with her maid.

"Who did this?"

The tone of Geta's voice made (Y/n) cry harder and she couldn't meet his gaze until his hands were cupping her face more firmly and he tilted her head up so she had no choice but to look at him.

He wanted names. He wanted to know exactly who he had to castrate and murder for this madness.

"C-Caius."

"The General?"

Both Geta and Caracalla shared a look of confusion with each other while (Y/n) pulled her face out of Geta's hands so she could push forward into his embrace. Her face buried in his shoulder and her hands clutched at one of his arms, reeling it into her chest as she tried to curl up as if wanting to make herself disappear.

A General had done this? A man of power and influence, someone who should know much better than to mess with an Emperor's wife. A man who was trusted with the ruling and discipline of the Emperor's armies. A man like that had done this to the Empress of Rome.

"What did he do?" Geta feared to ask the question because he wasn't sure what kind of answer he would receive. The tears pouring down his wife's face told him the General had vastly overstepped the mark and tried to harm her, but exactly what he had done was unknown to Geta. He couldn't get the full story simply by looking at her wounds.

"He h- had a blade, he… he pinned me to t-the wall, but I stabbed him." (Y/n) closed her eyes, shuddering at the mere memory of what she had done.

She had never stabbed anyone before. She had never so much as slapped anyone before today, she had no need. No one had ever been inappropriate with (Y/n) before and the only person who had insulted her had almost been blinded when Geta fought him for the indignation.

"Okay." Geta hushed quietly while a mixture of relief and violent torment circled through his system.

The General clearly hadn't gotten as far as he wanted, Thank the Gods, but knowing he had even tried in the first place made Geta's fury boil over. (Y/n) had had to resort to stabbing him. She had resorted to defending herself when she shouldn't of had to, not in her own palace where she was supposed to be safe from threats and vile people like that.

Once Acacius led the way back into the hall, he was followed by a dozen guards, all waiting for instructions but instinctively on the look out for anything and anyone who looked out of place. Their eyes cast around the room but all fell silent when they looked down at the Empress.

One of Geta's hands moved to carefully cradle the back of (Y/n)'s head and the other arm encased around her waist, making sure she was tucked up safe against his chest. His lips smothered her temple for a few moments before he looked up at Acacius.

There was a great fire burning within Geta's eyes to rival the worst atrocities in the colosseum and the way his upper lip curled into a snarl was more than unsettling to witness.

"The healer is in the drawing room." Acacius could barely find his voice. His words were low and his eyes cast on the floor as he spoke. He didn't dare look at the Empress. Something told him that Geta would strike any of them if they dared to look at his wife while she was in such a state.

"Come here, my love." Geta's voice was unusually calm and the words were whispered against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear.

Her whole body broke out in trembles when Geta carefully moved her arms to loop them around the back of his neck. He left her face tucked up into the crook of his neck while his arms swooped around her lower back and the other slid beneath her knees.

He eased her against his chest and pushed up from his knees that had gone numb with how he had been knelt on the cold floor. It was hard for Geta to stop from digging his fingers into her skin. All he wanted to do was squeeze and grip her as tightly as he could but he knew better than to do that and risk hurting her anymore than she already had been.

His lips attached to her temple but his steely eyes focused ahead of him as he stormed out of the hall and into the corridor lined with guards who were watching and waiting his every move.

"What are you all looking at?!"

It took Geta by surprise, but he didn't shudder or jerk when he heard his brother's sudden scream. He simply pursed his lips and took a deep breath while he continued in his strides towards the drawing room that overlooked the gardens.

He could feel Caracalla and Acacius following close behind while the guards hung back a few steps, clearly unsettled by Caracalla's outburst. If any of them were caught staring at the Empress, Caracalla might raise his own sword to their throats. He was liable to fleeting moods and he was rattled, anything and anyone could provoke him. His sister had been hurt, he wouldn't take this lightly.

(Y/n) kept her face smothered in Geta's neck, brushing her chin and lips over the golden armour cladding Geta's shoulder. She could feel the cold metal turning her arms numb and making her blood run cold, but it was soothing when her skin felt like it had been overheating until now.

She wanted to disappear. (Y/n) wanted to curl up and make herself as small as possible. She wanted everyone to leave, she wanted this nightmare to end and to wake up like she had this morning with no problems on the horizon.

Once Geta stormed into the drawing room, he stormed ahead to the sofa that was in front of the large canopy windows and he knelt down to carefully lower (Y/n) onto the sofa. He sat down beside her, allowing her to continue to curl into his armour.

He cupped the side of her bloodied face and smothered his lips against the top of her head, breathing into her hair and inhaling her scent to try and calm himself down. He didn't remove his other arm from her waist that kept her tucked up against him. If the healers wanted to help her, they would have to do so while she was wrapped up in her husband's embrace.

The sound of Geta's voice murmuring "It's okay, you're okay," caused (Y/n) to cry harder and she didn't dare lift her head from his chest. She didn't want to look at anyone and see the fear or the sorrow filling their eyes. She didn't want their gazes falling on her.

It was a relief to see that the two healers had already started to get things prepared. There was a small table moved beside the sofa, covered with balms, remedies, cloths soaked in cleansing oils, bandages and opium, for the pain the Empress was clearly suffering.

"I want General Caius found and brought to me."

"The General?" The implication in Geta's voice was clear, but Acacius couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Surely this madness couldn't be down to the General's doing. Surely Caius hadn't done or caused all of this.

Acacius was a General himself and he would never dare to lay a hand on the Empress without great reason. It was rare for anyone to strike up a conversation with the Empress. For someone to lay a hand on her, to harm her in such a way was unspeakable and unthought of. No one would imagine something like this happening, within the palace no less.

Acacius took a step back, his eyes casting down when he found himself under Geta's scrutinising gaze. The way Geta's lips curled was frightening and the vengeance he wanted was clearly written across his face.

"He has maimed my wife!"

His usually pale complexion was overrun with colour. The make up Geta wore couldn't hide the blood rushing to the surface of his skin and the black make up smudged beneath his eyes only made him look deathly and spiteful. "Look what he's done to her!"

Geta realised his voice may have been a fraction too loud when he felt (Y/n) whimper and flinch in his arms, but he couldn't help it.

Could General Acacius not see what had been done to his Empress? Could he not see that she had told Geta exactly who had done this and that Geta wanted his head?

He wanted Caius brought to him now, and he wanted to inflict the fires of Hell onto him for this madness.

"And I want guards with the Princess. She is to be within their sights at all times."

With the wave of his hand, the General and the guards all left the room in search of Caius. Three guards stayed positioned outside the doors, making sure no one came in without permission. They would all be stationed to protect the Empress from now on. She wouldn't be walking the halls alone again, not after this.

And four guards were ordered to go to the Princess's chambers and keep watch over her. They were to make sure she was alright and ensure no one visited her or went too close to her. The Empress had already been attacked, Geta wouldn't stand for his daughter being hurt or frightened in any sense.

A frustrated growl left Geta's lips. He couldn't foresee how this atrocity had happened. Guards should have heard the commotion. Servants should have been filtering around the palace at some point. Someone should have stopped this. Were these people not paid enough to look after their rulers? Were they incompetent? Would Geta have to replace each and every one of them to ensure the safety of his family?

Whatever Geta grunted and grumbled under his breath went unheard by (Y/n) and the healers around them.

She tried to nuzzle her face into Geta's neck but her watering eyes opened when she found his hand cradling her chin and he carefully tilted her head back on his shoulder so he could look down upon her.

Without saying a word, he took one of the cloths from the table and began working to rid the blood from his wife's features. It felt like polishing a diamond, cleansing away every bitter element of the world to find the beauty hidden beneath. He scrubbed the flecks of blood away, watching as hazy burnt orange water the same as his hair trickled down her features as the blood was cleaned away.

The healers didn't make a sound, allowing Geta to be the one to clean the wound on (Y/n)'s neck so they could apply tonics and rags soaked in lotion. The wound wasn't deep enough to require stitches, the tonics would help the skin mend back together on its own and as long as it was clean, there would be no infection to deal with.

When he was done, Geta tossed the rag onto the floor and went back to gluing his lips against his wife's temple. He resisted the urge to start swaying them from side to side, knowing that would make the healer's job much harder as he was tending to the cut on her forearm. That one would require stitches, the blood loss made that very clear.

His thumb stroked across (Y/n)'s jaw while his other hand tensed and twitched against her hip, trying to control the rage that was mounting up within him. But when he glanced to the left, adrenaline fueled his heart and made extra beats course through his blood when he noticed Acacius had crept back into the room.

With a lasting kiss to the side of (Y/n)'s temple, Geta carefully slid from sitting behind her and approached the General.

He was pleased when his brother took his place, sitting down beside (Y/n) with a tepid smile and his hand held out so (Y/n) could squeeze his hand. Caracalla took it upon himself to take the vile of opium and press it to his sister in law's lips, urging her to drink so the pain in her arm would be lessened and the discomfort from the gash in her neck would go away. And with any luck, it might help her sleep.

"We found him." Acacius murmured quietly and the grave look on his face told Geta all he needed to know. By the looks of him when they found him, there was no doubt that he had been the one who attacked the Empress.

The weak sound of (Y/n) trying to call out his name had Geta shivering, but he didn't look back. He couldn't. If he looked at her, he wouldn't be able to leave her and right now, he had to. As much as he wanted to stay by his wife's side, he had to let the healers tend to her wounds so Geta himself could tend to the obscenity that had caused this mess. The threat needed to be vanquished.

Geta let the General lead him through the twists and turns of the palace until they were down in the dungeon.

It had been a while since Geta had been down here, it wasn't a place he frequented often. He sent people here, he sent a lot of people down here, but he didn't administrate the torture they received or visit them as they spent many days, weeks, sometimes even months down here.

If he ever unleashed his violence on people, it was usually up in the main quarters of the palace. In front of servants or an audience.

But this was different. This was a General that Geta had to deal with. And although the people of Rome would be understanding that someone hurting the Empress needed to be punished, they wouldn't take kindly to witnessing a General being slain.

This was a necessity. No one got away with harming the Emperor's wife. General Caius had taken liberties and Geta needed to show him that he wouldn't allow that and that the price was his life. He had to pay for his crimes.

His sandals clicked against the grime covered stones lining the floor, differing from the marble floor that was in many of the upstairs chambers of the palace. The torches did nothing to cast a good light around the dungeon, the lighting was dim but it glimmered off of Geta's golden armour.

He removed the sword from his belt and tossed it to one side. Caius didn't deserve a swift end. Geta wouldn't grant him that.

Once Acacius led him to one of the cells on the right and a guard unlocked the iron door, Geta lowered his head to step inside the small cell with an oval brick ceiling matching that of the wine cellar.

One brow arched and his head angled to the side, both to overlook the General and to stop his golden hair from touching the low ceiling. Geta's eyes narrowed in scrutiny and something of a smile formed across his lips as he looked over the doomed General.

Hands bound in shackles chained to the wall. On his knees where he belonged in the grime and dirt and puddles of water that leaked through the small slits in the ceiling that provided very little light. The General had his head lowered but once he lifted his chin, something seemed to wash over him and his skin turned pale.

Geta revelled in the way Caius shivered and how his chest started to rise and fall rapidly, sensing his impending doom at the sight of one of his Emperors stood before him.

Turning to the side, Geta overlooked the wooden table in the corner of the room right beside the door. Everything he needed to ensure a torturous death; everything from tongue clamps to iron pokers and a various assortment of blades.

With a deep breath and a wider smile, Geta waved his hand to dismiss Acacius. He didn't need a witness or any protection, and Caius was going to receive no mercy. Geta didn't want Acacius to try and vouch for this man or try to earn the sparing of his life. He was going to die, Geta had already decided upon it.

Once Acacius departed to wait outside the chamber, Geta crouched down in front of Caius. His arms perched on his thighs and a sickening grin lit up his face as he leaned in close to inspect the wounds on Caius. He reached out and roughly gripped Caius's chin, twisting his head from left to right to take a good look at his wife's handiwork. She shouldn't have needed to defend herself in the first place, but nonetheless, Geta was proud of her.

"My wife has wounded you well; I have come to finish the task."

Whatever had been stabbed into his eye had been removed, but the blood was still covering the eye socket and both eyelids had swollen shut over his eye. He stared across at the Emperor with only one good eye to witness his own demise. And there was a lovely puddle of blood gathering around his knees from a wound beneath his armour.

They hadn't bothered to call a healer for him. What use would it do to patch up a condemned man? He was already dead, he just hadn't known it until now.

He roughly let go of Caius's chin, allowing his head to drop down while he rose to his feet and turned to face the table of instruments. Geta's fingers danced across each one before he decided which one to use first.

When he crouched back down in front of the General, glee lit up his face when he saw the panic strike Caius right in the heart. His head began to shake and he tried to shuffle back, but Geta tutted. He should know better.

"Tsk-tsk. True Generals show no fear; and true Emperors shall show no mercy."

Caius had nowhere to move to, he was limited by the iron clasped around his wrists and the chain welded to the brick wall. He dropped from his knees to flop onto the floor with his heels scraping against the puddle of blood beneath him and his back slumped into the wall.

His good eye screwed shut and he swallowed down a groan when Geta gripped his face and squeezed his cheeks until he had no choice but to open his mouth. The iron clamp snapped down into Caius's tongue, earning a croaked groan as Geta pulled the clamp so his tongue was on display. He knew the General knew what this meant, he was sure the General had used this device before. The tongue was either twisted until the muscle snapped or it was held until a blade sliced through the muscle and the tongue was cut out.

Geta slowly rose to his feet, a sickening look crossing his face as he reached out for a suitable blade. He stood close and hovered over the General like a beacon of Death. The Emperor was the bridge between life and death, he would deliver the General personally to the Angel of death.

"When I am done with you, what's left can be fed to the beasts in the colosseum."

***

A grimace flooded Acacius's face and his nose scrunched up as he tried to hold his breath so he didn't gag or make a disgruntled sound. He was used to witnessing death, he saw it whenever he went into battle and when he oversaw the games at the colosseum.

But he had never witnessed the gruesome death of a fellow General before. And the sight of the Emperor in front of him was one that was rather unsettling.

Geta glided down the hall like he was walking on air and the calm look on his face contradicted the heinous act he had just carried out.

It was as if he didn't seem to notice his attire was not all that fitting of an Emperor, but it seemed more fair to say that he just didn't care. He didn't care that his golden armour gladding his chest was now smeared with blood. He didn't care about the clear, bloodied hand print on the base of his robes near his knee from where Caius had begged for mercy. In vain.

Geta didn't see a problem with his ghostly white features that were now painted with a mixture of blood and dirt.

He paid no mind to the blood and grit stuck beneath his short nails, or the tiny cuts to his fingers and the palms of his hands from where he had hacked blades into Caius's flesh.

The clothes he was wearing would have to be burned, there was no saving the mixture of white and gold cloth from the stains this afternoon's torment had littered them with. And Geta would need to bathe and soak in boiling water for at least an hour to rid every morsel of blood and grime from his body.

He didn't care.

The smile on his wicked features said as much as he waltzed down the hall until he reached his chambers.

He wanted to see his wife. He wanted to see how she was fairing, how her wounds had been treated and if she was feeling any better. And Geta wanted her to see and bask in the blood and guts that he was painted with like a massacred work of art. Geta wanted her to know that he had taken care of the threat posed to her. He wanted her to see that she was safe and know that whatever Caius had tried to do to her, he got his comeuppance ten times worse.

He had already made sure that the Princess was in her own room and therefore wouldn't have to see her father in this state. Geta knew the Princess wouldn't understand and would most likely think it was paint that was covering her father, but Geta still didn't want this memory imprinted on her small, innocent mind.

Geta opened the chamber doors like he was walking out into a bright summers day and taking his first gulp of fresh air.

He cast his eyes around the room, noticing his brother sat on the chair by the window with Dondus perched happily on his shoulder, chittering away. And when he looked towards the bed, he saw her. His wife, his reason for living, sat in the centre of the bed looking like she wanted to fall to sleep but couldn't quite manage the task yet.

When their eyes met, their silent gaze spoke a thousand unsaid words as Geta strode towards her. It was all their in his eyes, his smile, his attire and his now crimson skin.

She was safe. He had made sure of that.

#imagine #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #geta imagine #geta x reader #emperor caracalla #gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #emperor geta

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fallinlovewithmyflaws · 7 months ago

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Sneak Peek - Lucius Verus x OFC

“Do you know who I am?” Aurelia enters the small dark cell, the man they call ‘Hanno’ facing away from her, his features hidden to her prying gaze. Aurelia can’t help but notice his muscular back covered in a mixture of sweat, dirt and blood. Hidden beneath the grime, she can see the telltale brand of a slave, freshly burned into his skin.

“You should not be here.” Despite the many years that has passed, the man in front of her still holds signs of nobility and royal birth, in his voice and the way he holds himself, confident and unyielding.

“I know I should not, yet here I am. Do you remember me or not?”

“You are not easy to forget, Elia.” A nickname, her nickname, one that she has not heard in 16 years.

Aurelia slowly but surely places her hand into the rough calloused hand of her childhood companion, encouraging him to turn towards her. ‘How different his hands are,’ she thinks. It tells her an untold story of the laborious life he must of led after he was forced to flee Rome. The moment he turns to face her, their eyes connect, the burn behind Aurelia’s is instant, for those blue eyes are ones she could never forget. Not even if she wanted to.

“I thought I lost you.” Tears silently cascade down Aurelia’s cheeks while her dainty hands gently trace along Lucius’ features, trailing from his brow down towards his bearded jaw. Time has changed the boy she remembers, yet she can still recognise his boyish features in the man before her.

Both their eyes rake over each other’s faces, drinking in every changed detail. Aurelia immediately notices when Lucius’ eyes drift down to her lips, a movement she subconsciously echoes. The air in the small cell has changed, crackling with unsaid tension.

This is a little sneak peek of something I am writing for Lucius Verus and an original female character. It will follow the movie as much as I can. Hopefully you enjoy it and more than welcome to comment and like it! If you would also like to be tagged when I post the entire thing, let me know!

#lucius verus #Lucius verus x oc #gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator fanfic #gladiator 2 #gladiator fanfiction #Lucius verus imagine #paul mescal #gladiator movie

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mmkkzz · 7 months ago

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Here is an idea for a Gladiator 2 fanfiction Lucius Verus/OC. I’m a terrible writer but definitely have some ideas for stories if anyone wants to write this story.

The idea is that the story can be an about girl that is Lucilla’s ward , when her parents died Lucilla took in the girl and raises her from a young age and grew up with Lucius. Lucius being a couple years older than her. Was always a spirited girl that always had a play sword in hand when her and Lucius would pretend to be gladiators like Maximus growing up. From a young age she and Lucius always cared for each deeply. Even though lucilla would ways teach her to be a lady she was always would take any opportunity to learn how to fight. When Lucius is sent away she wanted to go with him but wasn’t able to which both devastated them. As the years went on lucilla remarried to Marcus acacius which became a father figure to her and he thought of the girl as his own and taught her more how to fight and they became close. Taught her everything he knew from hand to hand combat, sword fighting, archery and horse riding. Lucilla taught her everything she knew about being a lady but also learning the art of being a healer as well. But she always missed Lucius as the years go on. As she grew older she became a beauty that didn’t go unnoticed by both the emperors, Marcus has tried to protect her from a marriage with geta. Even though she was at an age that she should have been married by then. Anyways, she would sneak out of the palace a lot to go train with the gladiators that macrinus would purchase. Thats when she reunites with Lucius and it’s like nothing has ever changed even though she can see that he is full of vengeance and grief from what he has been through in his life away in Africa. They start to fall for each other again but it becomes complicated when he finds out that the general he wants revenge on is the father figure of his love. The story will follow the movie. I haven’t seen it yet but idk I think it would be a cool story.

If anyone wants to take on this story be my guest.

#gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #lucius verus x reader #marcus acacius #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladiator 2 #paul mescal #pedro pascal #gladiator movie #gladiator fanfiction #lucius verus #lucius verus imagine #lucius verus x oc

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entitled-fangirl · 1 month ago

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edit: not me misspelling Invincible😭

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streets-in-paradise · 18 days ago

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Honey and Ashes

Warnings: Just the usual on a gladiator school enviroment. For the sake of this we imagine Maximus was single and not recently widowed when Proximo bought him.

Summary: In his process of learning the ways of the ludus, Maximus discovers that certain rules don't apply for everyone. Champions are allowed the indulgence of an inside partner chosen among the house slaves of the master, and the Spaniard had catched the attention of a lovely girl known for being unavailable to all the rest. Aware of the situation, and as someone already touched by such privilege, her friend encourages her hopes of being his chosen one.

Note: @wildsaltair and I are the originally intended audience of this little piece. OCs used are tecnically not fully fleshed characters, but a vehicle to self insert less generically than " x reader". By straight definition it doesn't fully count as a reader fic either, because the insert characters have tangible inspirations with some physical descriptions.

Fic format inspired by the lovely @themuseinthewoods, who previously wrote for both of us a self indulgent Troy piece that made me fall in love with the idea of customizing a fic. It's not OC, yet not quite a Reader, but a secret third thing:

" Writer self inserts to set up friend with blorbo of choice."

The first scene of the fic itself was slightly inspired on a moment from Hel der Gladiatoren (2003).

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The overwhelming heat was a threat to the performance of gladiators in the arduous training sessions needed to prepare them for the dangers of the arena. In places like Zucchabar, this practical problem could become a very serious issue if the inclement weather wouldn't be taken into account from time to time. Used to the temperate climate on the mediterranean peninsula, the Spaniard was most likely to become aware of that sooner than everyone. Accustomized to it on the long expousure over the course of his existence there, the leader of the trainings intended to use it against him as a test of endurance. Germanic of birth and raise, Haken knew very well what the extreme and sudden switch of weathers would do to the newcomer. He kept him well surveiled, evaluating his growth as more than information for the master. An impressive outcome on his first public performance showed the Spaniard was not to be underestimated. In fact, in him he had discovered a possible contestant for the glory and his very first serious rival.

All the others were caught in the middle their beef, collectively enduring the punishment only so the teacher could apply the ounce of power given by the master in satisfying the needs of his ego. If he was already in a terrible mood, this extended overall as the heat was bringing everybody to the limit of exhaustion. Haken didn't care to be playing with his own wellbeing as well, not as long as he could still show off on being the strongest and prove Proximo he remained the best man of his ludus. Perhaps because he was the onlyone there able to keep a cold head, the regent of the place was smarter and ordered the needed pause the school desperately needed to keep functioning as it should. He adressed the widespread discontent only because the exceptional situation warranted it, allowing them to rest and drink in order to gain back their strenghts.

Sitting in line on the high step that usually served them as bench under a precarious roof, they were being served a strange beverage many of them haven't tried anywhere else. To the reaction faces the odd taste was causing on some, one of the girls pouring for them explained it was a mix of vinegar, honey and vegetal ashes as if listing the ingredients could ease the disgust while insisting that it would be good for them despite it. Her companion, less shy to play with the effects their presence could cause, commented in a coquettish tone that they had worked on the mix themselves, as if that should make the men drink it in order to impress them. Both girls were beautifull, perhaps an accidental factor of morale boosting in their innocent labour.

Inseparable team from the beggining, the Spaniard and the Numidian observed in silence how the irascible temperament of the German was applacated in sight of the women. His eyes chased one of them, the cheekiest one, with particular determination and they couldn't imagine anything good would come out from that.

His ways were a clear attempt of seducing her from afar, but she wasn't approaching him any faster. Getting her attention was all he cared about from the moment that he saw her, as if the mere sight of her would have infused him with renewed energy. She was trying to concentrate in the task, but he didn't mind and wasn't going to stop the chase untill she would be paying attention to him. A simple surveilance of the place showed how her companion prefered to do her task on the opposite extreme of the line, away from him. It was easier to guess she could have had a past confrontation with him and was trying to avoid a new one, perhaps seeking to protect herself with the few tools a slave girl still had available in a world of devalued men she was meant to serve.

For as cheerfull as she intended to be, making a joke out of the fears any sensical woman would have surounded of so many men usually adressed as caged beasts to beware of, that other one was no seductress either. Charming, perhaps, but with no aim to flirt. Her long and well kept brunette curls seemed to be her pride and joy, judging by how the fingers of her free hand revisited the shape of her locks anytime she would stop to talk. She cared to fight the weather in order to keep her hair in place, curious attitude to observe in a maid of gladiator school. Or it was perhaps a way to cope with her nerves, something they would find more understandable.

Haken's misconduct had finally made her so aware of his presence that she accidentally skipped the other two right next in order to serve him first.

"They got me the most beautifull girl we have ... How am I supposed to cool down like this? Now I am twice as thirsty."

She chuckled softly, but didn't encourage him afterwards.

" I can only solve one of your problems, love."

He kept the vase still as she poured the drink for him, watching her intensely through the entire action. Her attention juggled between following his eyes and the direction of the liquid untill filling it.

Haken swallowed the disgusting drink in one long sip, then pridefully smirked at her.

" Come, ... sit with me."

Her index finger reached by instinct one curl at the side of her face to twist around.

" The place is full, I see no seat for me. "

In an authentic display of himself, he squeezed his thighs inviting her to look down.

" You will always find it here. "

She didn't appear to be scared, but his plead for special treatment wouldn't come to terms.

" I really can't, handsome. I am sorry. "

Before she would get the chance to turn back he was pulling her closer, firm grip contrasting with his playfull ways.

It was the sign of alarm the Spaniard had been fearing in base of simple prediction of that man's behavior since their meeting. A reasuring glance from Juba send him in the direction he wanted and would have taken anyways: standing up to help her out.

His grip of Haken's arm released her, and his frame shielded her from him.

" Let her go! Do you think we aren't seeing you obstructing her work? Save the bragging for the arena."

The German raised up to what he initially interpreted as the very first open provocation of his rival.

" And who are you to tell me what to do? Proximo keeps me in charge, don't let one single triumph that wasn't entirely yours make you expect otherwise. "

Sensing that the presence of the guards anticipating a fight could complicate matters, the girl intervened for both of them.

" In name of my friends here I am very glad to see there are still righteous heroes among gladiators, but you have picked the wrong battle ..." She sweetly informed to the man believing to be helping her, leaning a hand on his shoulder so he would turn back to look at her. " I need no savior, Spaniard. In fact, nobody would lay a finger on me because I am the woman of the reigning champion."

That clarification ended the confussion on both parts, given both men managed to find themselves surprised of something. If on the perspective of the nameless by choice gladiator, it was the lack of a wrongly perceived threat, for Haken it was the realization that he had been judged a danger to the slave girl.

His woman, even if she wasn't formally his to own. She only tried to keep reservations in public because the master got tired of catching them and she feared to face punishment. Men who had been there for longer than the Spaniard have been submitted to the spectacle, since he loved bragging her and often ventured beyond simple praise words. It was a necessity in such enviroment: from the gladiators to the guards and every worker in between, they all needed to know she was off limits since he had claimed her his. Unapologetically expressing his love and desire for her was not a great issue for him: in the limits of the school he was a king, and her, his queen.

" Are you sure he wasn't bothering you? " The Spaniard asked her right away, in the softest tone he had ever heard him use. " Even if you are together, as it seems so, he has no right to ... "

Haken started laughing and she followed with a few chuckles, stepping in front so she would be no longer hidden behind one of the gladiators but in the middle of them instead.

" ... I would have jumped to his lap if I could, but Proximo applied some restrictions to our relationship we have a hard time accomplishing. " She then began to explain, giving a mischievous side look to her beloved. " ... We are not supposed to get too physical untill he will win another fight. He claims it motivates him, but I think it tortures him. Neverless for what I think, one of us has to obbey the master. He could have me whipped, or even worse, ... he could chop off my hair!!! "

Her reaction was quite amusing for the new gladiator, but he was able to consider that the logic behind it was not necesarily the one of a whim from a vain girl. Being whipped was a mundane punishment for a slave, an expected part of the condition. Losing her hair, however, would be being like stripped from the last piece of individuality she had left. That one thing that was still hers to feel proud about, a trait people could recognize her for.

Her remaining humanity.

" It would be a great loss, it's very pretty. "

It made her turn back and smile, sweetly and genuinely because she realized the compliment was clean.

" I like your beard, even when unkempt it fits you. Don't shy away from making suggestions to the barber, Proximo would get one to change that soon if you keep winning. "

The friendly exchange was being surveiled by her man with amusement, but certain playfull suspects.

" Was this why you wanted to play hero? Did you think you would stand a chance against me?"

Her hands trembled a little bit, risking the amphora she was still carrying, because Haken pulled her to his side. Her cute giggling was the one of a woman in love blissfully giving in to her lover's embrace.

" I bet he thought I was a brute up to ravish you, can you believe it? " He then commented her in a mocking tone. " The dreadfull barbarian attacking a helpless maid. I am so vile you must be terrified! "

Seeing his guesses were wrong was a relief, but the Spaniard was not going to let it ridicule him.

" The satisfied expression in your face as you smacked me repeatedly is one of my first memories of this place, so I have good reasons to expect the worst of you. "

That unflatering reminder only made the girl melt harder.

" He may be mean to you, but never with me. It's part of his charm ... I have never felt so special! All his tenderness is reserved for me. And trust me, he is adorable! "

Inspired by her praise, Haken took the amphora so she would be relieved from the load and once he did, she inmediately clinged to him with both arms. Heat wasn't an inconvenience for them when it was about being together, happy as she was of rounding his naked torso hugging him from one side while looking up in adoration to meet his face. Only one of his huge arms was enough to keep her secured in the embrace, while the other could keep occupied in easily holding the object for her.

" Look at you! So cute, the sun got you all red. I'll have to rub a refreshing balsam on your skin later. "

The smile he had for her then was something his fellow gladiator had never seen before. He had became a completely different man: there were no signs left of the arrogant cruelty he constantly displayed.

" How about a kiss now? "

She raised on her tiptoes while he leaned down in order to break the distance settled by their height difference. Their lips barely brushed because the position made it difficult, what made them chuckle for an instant before he would hungrily claim hers. His move was firm, but not rough, handling her as if she was as delicate as the pottery.

Their point was proved, and the watcher of her honor found himself useless.

" It's nice to see you aren't a self centered headache all the time. "

She giggled to the mockery and Haken gave her one last peck on the lips before replying to his circunstantial rival.

" You have to get yourself one, Spaniard. See how lovely my Lux is? ... She has a Celt friend that always wanders nearby. i've heard men complain it's impossible to impress her, but nothing seens impossible for you."

The Spaniard opted for an elusive answer saluting the girl whose name he had just learn.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Luz. "

" I would say the same, ... If you would dare to finally tell us your name. " She mocked him in return, the absense of a remark in the different pronunciation expected from a spaniard showing she was familiar with it. " What's stopping you? Is it cursed or have you made of mistery part of your strategy to win the crowd? "

She made him laugh, mostly because the observation was on point.

" ... A bit of both, If you don't mind I would rather preserve it."

She questioned him no longer and they chose to mutually ignore the suggestion that had been made. Not necesarily because it made them uncomfortable, but due to the quick conclussion in the implications. Haken was being too direct, as if the tangential closeness with the good friend of his woman had lead him to guess a singular finding. One she didn't want to divulge, potentially explaining why he augured him an easy win over everyone else's failures.

It wouldn't take too long untill he would meet her and figure out, for the girl was right there taking care of the task her friend had neglected, serving all the men that she had skipped in order to rush towards Haken. Once his facade as the Spaniard would have been secured again, Maximus found her in casual conversation with Juba. She was making him laugh and laughing more herself. The topic was not hard to guess, since the effusive couple continued to do their thing once they were left unbothered.

" ... I swear, she used to be the most shy of us. When I meet her she was flighty because she was terrified, now she has no fright and no shame ..."

The overheard observation was very on point, first detail he liked of her. A modest girl still concerned for her dignity, even in a space that invited her to do the exact opposite.

" ... I guess Haken being a man of spectacle must have a certain effect. As you see, he has never been a reserved man. Ever since she first returned his advances he has been bragging this new privilege: a steady partner, proof of how long he has survived. "

" I wouldn't have imagined of him, but it makes sense. " Juba was replying her, still sitting calmly in the same spot while she served other vase attending the talk. " To even envision something as such, a man has to have spent an amount of time here most don't have. If found, it can mark a difference between an ordinary gladiator and a champion. "

The Spaniard reached enough proximity with them for his presence to be acknowledged and she turned back to face him guided by the look of his friend warning her. Used as he was to disagree with the German, Maximus was not ready for the close sight of the woman that was staring back at him. She had a beautifull smile crowned of lovely freckles and the most vivacious blue eyes he had ever seen. It was a true cruelty of fate that beauty as such would be confined to the cold dehumanization of slavery instead of the warmth of a home. Seeing her it was no longer hard to guess why the gladiators would complain of her lack of interest in joining one of them.

She was made for something better and she was still aware of it. Being the pretty serving girl chased by some champion wasn't her route to rediscover her worth, like it probably happened to her reckless friend. As surprisingly well kept, her hair was tied up in a tail so it wouldn't get in the way of her task. That showed she prioritized modesty and comfort, that she knew she had nothing to prove. Straight haired brunette, practical and less chaotic, but not for that any less beautifull.

" Do you want a drink? " She kindly offered him. " I saw what you did there, very brave. If you endure the taste, I will let you drink twice. "

Smiling back was a spontaneous, almost unconcious gesture. Once praised by Emperor Marcus Aurelius himself as a paradigm of stoicism, then incapable of hidding his surprise to the harmless flattery of a simple servant girl.

" No need for honors, it was all in vain. I would have never expected it ..."

" ... Nobody does, not at least at first sight, but never before had a new man tried to act out on the same guess. " She cutted him off, praising the intentionality over the act itself. " Their fear of Haken keeps them careless, all they mind is staying out of his way. If he is wooing her or molesting her, that's not their concern."

Juba passed his empty vase so she would refill it for his friend.

" We don't want to grow accustomed to ignore. "

" That's nice, but now that you know it's safe I would recommed you to ignore them."

The three agreed on the observation sharing a few chuckles as the Spaniard presented to her the vase with firm grip for the pouring. Remembering the awkward example he had witnessed, he fought the urge of following the act with his glance fearing it would make her nervous.

He peeked at the inside of the vase for a first verdict on the drink, then sniffed it. His excellent sense of smell was the best tool to judge, and his preferred way to experience the world.

" I got used to the taste of Posca in the army, so if this resembles it on any way I may accept the refill."

As he took the first sip, he did notice her eyes following him with curiosity. If it was merely on his judgement or in him, he couldn't possibly tell yet.

" Not so terrible! The smoked taste, i assume must come from the ashes, makes the difference."

She smiled for him once more. Happier, yet shyer than before.

" ... I have heard of your first fight, you were incredible. " Was her sudden, inconnexed reply. " ... You both were, of course. I got the whole story from my friend, Proximo sends her to her champion everytime he wins. Even from his peculiar point of view, it sounded outstanding. "

It cleared his doubt, also explaining the change. He had enough experience on the matter to recognize the extent of the compliment, mostly because the slight add of nervousy was giving her away.

" Thank you, ... we appreciate."

He took another sip from the drink, letting the bright of his eyes speak for him in the sweet glance he gave her.

" I have been warned not to ask for your name, but I see no reason to hide you mine. " She continued, rushing the words a little bit. " I am Juliana, name so roman it's obvious I am not roman."

A very clever joke about the assimilation of conquered populations, detail he didn't miss.

" You must be the Celt I've been told about, that would explain those adorable freckles."

The compliment surprised her, as if she expected no praise in return for her words of admiration towards him.

" Who told you about me?"

" The men whose illusions you dissapoint expecting you would have for them the asumed wildness of your heritage. "

His joke matched hers perfectly and she decided to follow it.

" I am too boring for the roman image of a celtic woman, but that's how I like it. Ironically, Lux comes from italia. "

In the direct contrast between the girls all behavioral assumptions that the conventions of roman thinking had for foreigners were debunked. Roles attributed by the misconceptions were switched, proving how insignificant the reasonings he once fought on were.

" I don't find you boring, more decorum is exactly what this place needs. "

His reassuring comment was followed by a proper demostration when he took her free hand to place a kiss on top of her knuckles. Gesture as such had no place among their kind. She was a slave and so was he, what made of the formality a very lovely absurd. Used as she was to work among men, never before had one directed her the same respectfull tenderness owed to a free woman. For as nice as some could be, most gladiators were far from having such exquisite manners.

Even if he wouldn't intend it, that was enough to make a woman melt. Coming from a man as stunning as him, the one who had bewitched her since the first time she saw him, it was practically like dreaming awake. For days her mind had wondered without an answer, waiting for the moment when a serving task would justify a proper meeting to find out if her guesses of him were correct. She had looked at him from the distance of their different routines and in various occasions her peeking had became an exchange of glances. Then she gained the certainity that, beyond his innate gallantry, the Spaniard was even more impressive than what tales or fantasies could tell.

She had a hunch regarding the outcome of their spoken meeting, but wouldn't rush to let herself be guided on it inmediately. He seemed to like her, although she couldn't be sure on which extent this quick foundness could prosper. As the instigator, rushing to take the task for herself and dragging her into it, her friend was probably already waiting for the details. Knowing that her best friend had became instantly infatuated with him was one good reason Lux had to remain nice towards the Spaniard despite getting progresively used to hear Haken complain of him. When many others used to make fun of her for thinking the germanic gladiator could have a consistent interest on her, it was Juliana who took her side claiming they were just jealous. if for everything else in the hardships of their routine they were close, romance was a topic in which she owed her much of her support.

Everytime the master would bring a new crew of wretched men to the ludus, she would always encourage her to give them a look on the hopes of settling her up with someone. Although appreciative of her good intentions, Juliana rarely cared to think in the detailed analysis her friend would do of them for her as something more than a source of amusement for both. At least that was the usual, untill the newest adquisition happened. Following her ideas while they observed him from afar like a game of guessings was how she started falling for him, unaware of what was happening for being so used to never take those instances seriously.

Their brief encounter only strenghtened the feeling that he was the one she wanted, only she couldn't be fully sure if he had felt a similar curiosity. The moment she had dreaded for so long had arrived and she found herself in the need of planning strategies to attract a gladiator.

Merely introducing the plead for advice got her friend too excited, enough for some clarifications to be made.

" You want the Spaniard! I knew it, that's exactly why it had to be you the one accompanying me out." Lux started to celebrate at the slightest implication. " Him trying to defend me from my man was not what I had in mind, but it's a good start. If he thinks he is good enough to challenge him, then he is good enough for my best friend."

Her optimism was admirable, specially given the conflict of interests left to expect.

" Aren't you afraid their rivalry could grow? What would be of us if they end up having to face each other in the arena?"

Very sensical fear that yet didn't worry her as it should.

" Dear, I am more inclined to believe our friendship could soften their relationship than to imagine us deserting each other on their cause. "

It was the end of the afternoon and cleaning up the pottery was the most bereable of the chores left to do before the rest of the ordinary servants would fill the kitchens to start working on dinner. The minimal contact of the skin with water that the task implied was enough to cheer the process in such heated day.

In orden to dissipate the grim thoughts from her friend's mind, the curly haired maid splashed her with tiny drops left in her hand from the previously cleaned vase.

It made her stiffle a chuckle, not wanting to be too loud in case someone would call them out.

" Your loyalty is a gift, but we are still ignoring a very important detail … How am I supposed to even start pursuing the Spaniard? "

Some very low little giggles escaped from them and they looked around to check if they weren't being watched.

" You are right! After all, I didn't pursue Haken. He came to me on his own … "

" … And that worked perfectly for you, but i fear i can't wait for the same to happen because the Spaniard is very different. " Juliana interrupted, her glance fixated on the surface of the plate she had finished scrubbling and then intended to dry. " He is discrete, subtle. Even formal, at least for a gladiator. Today he kissed my hand as if I was the Princess of Rome. "

The memory had relaxed every fiber of her being with delight. Her clothed caressing to the pottery was like a mimic of her yearning to caress the beautifull face of the man.

Two sighs that were one at unison augured the growth of the mutual excitement.

" He LIKES you!!! Why would he do that, if not to flirt? "

Regardless of how it was starting to affect her, Juliana didn't want to give a biased answer.

" Because he enjoys of being a proper gentleman? You have seen it yourself, when he thought you could be in danger he rushed to your rescue. Must we suppose that he fancies you for that? "

The objection made Lux stop her scrubbing so suddenly the piece fell into the water.

" I know how this game goes, that is exactly why i am stopping it now … "

She picked the item her friend was rushing only so she would pay her full attention for an instant.

" … Those are the same excuses I used to tell myself. Don't you remember me thinking Haken had looked in my direction only because you were right next to me? How many ' maybe he is just trying to be nice!' I had for everytime he was clearly trying to win me over? That's wasted time, a luxury in this place. My insecurities robbed me of precious time and I couldn't stop it untill he made me see it. "

She made a brief pause, only to evoke her memories more clearly.

" He once said to me : ' You live so away from the arena that you forget of what happens there. Because you know I am the favorite you are giving my life for granted, but I can't afford to keep playing. If you want it as much as I do, for us it's now or never. ' … And he was right! I should have given in way sooner, he trully wanted me from the beggining. That is my advice for you: risk yourself now, or you may regret it later. "

Not only it was sound advice, it also explained a lot about their questionable attitudes. The constant physicality was not mere bragging, a show of the gladiator king enforcing dominance in his subjects doomed to stand it. Arrogance aside, he was still conscious of how any moment with his woman could be the last one and loved her accordingly.

" ... I was not aware Haken is capable of such wisdown. "

The enamored girl smiled with pride.

" He plays the role of a dumb brute for the crowd, that doesn't mean he is one. Only that his moments of sensitivity and bright aren't meant to be experienced by everyone."

" Fair enough, you have convinced me. " Was her friend's answer." I must let the Spaniard know I am interested, then let him decide for us. "

It was all the other one needed to start scheming in support of the goal, excited as if the plan would be her newest found priority over the simple task.

" Excellent! When do you envision to strike? It can't be tonight, I have to fullfill the promise I made to my champion. "

Juliana smirked with mischievousness for a reprehension that was more of a mock.

" Weren't your private visits to him becoming limited? "

" Someone has to treat his skin, he is a germanic under the sun of Zucchabar! Relieving massages for his good sleep won't harm anyone. And why bothering the healers, when his partner can provide those to him? I am sure Proximo would agree, I have done it before."

The infidence revealed a sensible detail of the experience as the woman of a champion in the ludus, something that made Juliana crave it even harder. If the Spaniard would choose her, would she be sent to perform those caring tasks? Would the master allow her to behave with him as the simulacrum of a wife? He seemed like the kind of man that would enjoy of that, for in him it wouldn't be as surprising as it was from the German. Her good friend had performed a feat with him, since no one was sure of how she managed to tame him. Something she had given him made it so he no longer wanted any other.

If his heart was once covered by a hard shell pierced by the sweetness of his girl, the case of the Spaniard resembled more the image of a letharge. His heart was asleep, and Juliana fantasized of waking it up with her lovefull adoration.

" I know I said many times that wasn't for me and you should stop trying to find me a man ... Please, forget it! I've found the one. What do I have to do to get there? "

The slight glimpse of desperation on her voice near the end spoke of the intense yearning, something her friend knew well.

" Would you keep full trust in my advice, even if it goes against your natural instincts? I will have for you, my friend, the kindness no one had with my inexperienced self. The mistakes of that silly girl will not find you, we will quickly win for you that champion in the making. "

" Don't begrudge her, I guess she must have done something good to captivate her man as she did. " Juliana comforted her in the face of her regrets. " My memories of the process are different, I remember a cheerfull man showing off to a shy girl hidding her blush in curtains of hair. The more she would try to hide, the more persistent he would become. All just to make her smile, as if he treasured the sight. He wouldn't let her leave untill accomplishing it ... And if he would make her giggle, he would hit his opponent the hardest during the training excercise. Not because he aimed to be more cruel, for one could see how joy had ruined the focus and measure of his strenght. "

The beautifull way in which she described her observations had endeared her friend. She lost the hability to keep masquerading their interaction and hugged her with wet hands.

" I love you so much, Juli! That stubborn Spaniard would have no choice but to love you. "

A consecuential scolding for her happy outburst paused the conversation for the rest of the activity, that they still finished while silently sharing the same excitement. Detailed discussions had to wait untill nightfall, when the needed secrecy would be granted.

It was not unusual they would get sent to serve away from the ludus, in the internal part of the complex considered the house of the master. Perhaps because they were the youngest among the few female servants, Proximo was inclined to keep them in the most domestic side of the environment where he could keep a close eye on them.

Despite both girls, under different circunstancies, remembered the initial fright of being given to that old man of harsh ways, he wasn't by far the worst fate that could have encountered them. Never had he seeked to lay with any of them, neither threw them at his house guests as means to impress them. He rarely had any house guests, rarity that occured only for business reasons. Usually, the girls would finish the day settling the table for his dinner and serving him as his only circunstantial companions.

It was not something he seeked, but an incident of habit. His routine was to eat alone, and as the ones witnessing the scene every night, they eventually started to feel a strange sense of pitty. They knew well how to masquerade it on their approach so the pridefull man wouldn't find it insulting and shut himself.

When he was on a good mood, it could even get to be somewhat fun. He had told them a few stories of his past as a gladiator, revisiting his old glory with cheerfullness unseen before. His pleased reactions to Lux's expressed admiration for his stories often showed why it was no mistery that Haken had choosen her. Juliana listened with respect, but the tales often made her wonder for all the unspoken suffering that man must had endured. Suffering that he inflicted on others as a free man because he knew no other way of living.

That night she mostly witnessed the persuasive attempts of her friend finding a rational-presenting motive to give a loving late visit to her champion. The outcome was remaining rather unsuccessfull, but in an outstanding effort to weave both causes together, she changed the angle of her pleads.

" I understand, seems that you are no longer concerned on Haken because of the Spaniard. The man is quite a rebel, he consistently rejects the rules of the ludus. He must be a source of headaches for you, as much as he is to him on the task of enforcing your rules. Haven't you considered using the same strategy to win him over? "

The comment was delivered casually, almost innocently, while she poured more wine for the master directing a cheeky glance to her companion standing at the other side.

" I have nothing of value to bribe him, he is a rejector of fame and glory. " Proximo followed her, suspicious yet invested in her words. " It's a terrible irony, finding such talented man with an absolute lack of motivation. All he does is kill, the bare miminum to continue a purposeless existence."

" Master, you are answering yourself ... Let him find a girl! " She cleverly recalled as he sipped the drink. " I am not ignorant on the fact that you use me as means to deal with Haken. For instance, you are currently conditioning our chances to be together to blackmail him ... And it's working, the poor man is suffering! Today's incident is proof. Let me enter his cage for a quick visit, just to take care of his skin and ensure a good night's sleep. Let the Spaniard see it so he would learn there are nice privileges for those who serve you well ... As we both do! "

The last part got a skeptical chuckle out of him.

" For most you are an incompetent, but you manage to tame that bastard like no other and you are saving me some costs by spreading your legs for him after the fights. "

To Juliana's disbelief, her friend and her pridefull smile seemed to have chosen accepting the rather insulting comment as praise.

" I do more than that, I give him my heart! And I think that's also what the Spaniard needs in order to find the motivation you need to be awakened in him. Survival is not enough because he is all alone, he needs of someone!"

She started to understand the ultimate goal of such reckless intrusion. Lux was trying to plant the seeds in the mind of Proximo, so when the conditions would be given, he wouldn't dissaprobe or punish Juliana herself for loving her gladiator. It would come out naturally, as if the idea of matching them would have occured to him.

" Master, I beg you to indulge her before she would drive all of us insane." The celt pleaded for her, weaponizing her fame as the sensical one in order to help her with gratefullness. " I can finish any leftover of a task she may have, although I am sure there is nothing left. The hopes of seeing Haken again had motivated her even in this cursed weather. "

In a last attempt, Lux brought out her charm in a lovely performance of her most tender side.

" Have I ever told you that you are the best master I ever had?"

Proximo remained unamused, even if the try was hilarious.

" The onlyone you ever had, thanks to your father back in Capua having nothing else of value to answer for his debts. "

" You are not my first owner and I still find you bereable. " Juliana followed. " As heartless as the owner of a ludus requires to be, yet not as horrible as he could get to be."

Something of her managed to break the distance, and it was probably the fact that her righteous honesty evoked him the same kind of answers the Spaniard was often inclined to give him.

" I tend to think you are a foolish woman, Lux, but it seems that you speak with some truth ... "

Context made it feel as if the observation was only regarding their opinions of him, but beyond that he had been guided into the right direction. To consider that, if he would ever neet to try getting him a partner as a control strategy, Juliana was the perfect choice to offer for the new gladiator. She had proved herself a reliable one too, based on her stainless behavior.

" … The problem with the Spaniard is that he turns into an eunuch away from the arena. One can't guess what he likes, nothing seems to excite him. " He complained directly to her. " If you would try enough, I think perhaps you could figure this out for me."

Juliana swallowed hard before objecting.

" … Are you instructing me to seduce a gladiator? Never before in my time on the ludus I have done such thing. "

" Don't worry, I can help you out. " Lux replied for him, happy to guess their wishes had been turned into a command. " … It's not as hard as it seems, those men are bored of staring at each other's faces."

" Don't get too excited, I don't want a chaos. " Proximo stopped her." I need to tame the Spaniard somehow, but If i want him to live up to his potential I must also find him something to do when he comes back from the arena. "

She smiled innocently at him, then mischievously questioned her friend with the exact words she wanted to hear.

" What do you say, Juli? If the new one chooses you, would you be his partner? "

The situation got her in disbelief, it was simply unbelievable what the newly found confidence had done for that girl. In a matter of instants, Lux had guided the master into accepting a relationship that haven't even started between his slaves. Proximo was convinced of it as a practical necesity of his for them, like a father who encourages an arranged marriage out of finantial convenience for his home. Excitement and confussion kept Juliana expectant, for she had no idea of how her beloved Spaniard would react to such thing.

Would he reject her, as an expression of his rejection of the ludus itself? Would the offer tempt him, allowing her to become for him the ray of light meant to smoothly illuminate the darkness on his life? Her newly found dream come true, something she never imagined herself wanting and then couldn't escape from. If being personally choosen by a gladiator as his reward used to be one of her self imposed limits working there, determinated to escape it no matter what, she found herself fantasizing of it.

Sharing the bed of the Spaniard wouldn't be an horrific labor, but a yearned delight. Man as honorable and tender as him would make it feel like a wedding night, not a degrading concecuence of slavery falling upon her. There was no other she ever wanted, only him making sweet love to her. To avidly roam every corner of his sun-kissed skin with her hands and lips would be like finding happiness for once in their misserable existence. She would give herself to him with her whole being and her fame for being reticent would make him the envy of the place. He wouldn't reveal a single thing, but it wouldn't be necesary for them to know he had won her over like no one else could.

He didn't even have to try, for she was his from the first moment that she saw him. The great push that her friend had given her made her feel confident to let him know of it.

Under slightly more gentle weather conditions had her attempts started, using whatever excuse of a task that could keep her close to the training yard. Normally, she would have been the one making fun of Lux for coming up with hilariously creative ways to peek at her man from afar, but then she herself became the instigator. Her hair was loose and carefully combed, falling like a cascade on her back and shoulders as she kneeled down to feed the beasts. A bunch of birds, usual wanderers of the space, had gathered around her waiting for something to be thrown at them. Their sounds deviated the attention of a few gladiators, fortunately incluiding the Spaniard.

His eyes caught her in the middle of the gentle action and he couldn't help smiling. She pretended not to notice untill the gesture would develop into a more clear salute. More than shyness, it was her interest in finding out if he would chase her what motivated the delayment. Noticing that he did, and finding in that a clear sign that his interest on looking at her haven't faded, her responsive smile was the sweetest she could have given.

It got her a short wink from him, and she felt like she could have been about to faint.

Neither slow or sluggish, her friend made use of the master's absense to do some mischief. Given he was out for the morning attending matters of the outside, the responsabilities for the activity in the nearby area were completely on Haken. In practical terms, that meant she had some freedom of action untill someone would call her out.

She seeked the attention of the stubborn giraffes always pacing nearby, animals they have been trying to bond with in order to resolve Proximo's complaints. Their best advance in the task of helping them mate was finding out their behavioral patterns were opposites. At least regarding humans, one was more social than the other. Detail that they would never completely get used to, because there was no easy way to tell them apart.

Not yet prepared for it, Lux squeaked when the creature licked her face and the high-pitched sound distracted everyone. Only the fear Haken inspired in them stopped a laugh outburst, so she joked ahead to show she was fine with it.

" Not me! You should be kissing your partner. Imagine how cute it will be when we will have baby giraffes walking around! The master wants some, and the ludus of Proximo has no space for rebels."

The only answer of the animal was aiming their long neck lower so she would be able to give some pets, changing her fake serious semblance.

" You win: my weakness is tall men bowing down to me. "

She stroked the sides of the long snout while overhearing the loud laughter of Haken. For her, the most adorable sound, often driving her to try dumb occurences in order to obtain it.

" Still haven't given up, love? " He teased her in return. " It doesn't look good "

In the meantime, Juliana had approached with some of the leaves Lux had brought for the animals.Offering it to the most shy, she managed to feed it, detail that subtly captivated her one man audience while the loud couple playfully argued.

" The smart little man said giraffes don't act out their heat and they don't have a mating season. " The curly haired slave girl was then explaining. " As far as we know, hopes aren't lost, but it can take forever."

Her frustration on the imposible task was an outlet to say what she wanted, pretending to talk with the giraffes so the ones that should be listening would hear.

"There is no need to make this overcomplicated. Stop watching each other from afar and do something about it! "

The mock reached the misterious gladiator, making him smile to himself. He had no shame on recognizing his guilt, for he had been silently observing Juliana for longer that he dared to admit even to himself. Getting involved with someone wasn't in his plans, yet the temptation of seeking the comforting company of the charming girl was there. It was no mistery to him that she admired him like no other, since it was only him the one obtaining from her sweet gestures and praise. The lovely way in which she reacted to his compliments and her eyes adquiring a special bright everytime they would follow his image revealed enough. For an observant man like him it wasn't hard to tell she had a crush on him, and with the limited weapons she possesed, her shameless friend tried to help her out in her wish to act on it.

Seeing that sort of behavior coming from slave girls in a ludus was extremely comforting on itself. If they were still able to act like maidens would in the outside, it meant the life there still managed to preserve them from the worst dangers associated to such enviroment. Regardless if it came from an active effort of Proximo to keep them safe, or the eventual involvement of Lux with Haken acting as protection for both, neither of those girls carried the sadness of those who have been broken by the hands of men.

They were still full of light, taking advantage of the small nooks of freedom they could get in the mundanity of domestic work that constituted their lives. Facing it with dignity and spirit, then transmitting the same to the gladiators in their daily interactions. What they had accomplished was miraculous and it was hard not to feel fascinated. In the confines of his captivity Maximus was finally experiencing what he couldn't get in years of keeping his personal life neglected for the pointless war on Germania.

Finding himself captivated by the tenderness and grace of a woman that invited him to dream of having her. One he could one day call his own, to love and protect for the rest of his probably brief life. A selfish thought, he would tend to believe, given the subsequent heartbreak awaiting his partner once he would perish on the arena. If that beautifull girl wanted to keep the life on her piercing blue eyes, then the best for her was staying away from him.

That was the sensical thought process he would feel inclined to follow, to restrain himself from keep showing interest on her own wellbeing, yet he couldn't get convinced of it as a witness of Haken's joy. A damned man just like him, submitted to the same dilemma, yet careless of it in presence of the woman he loved. When she was with him nothing else mattered, and feeling the King of the ludus was only usefull as long as he could make her feel his Queen. He loved her fearlessly, refusing to let doubts of the future get in the way of their present. If this was a conscious choice, or a reckless result of his trust in having good chances to win his freedom, the difference mattered very little. The practical result had made of him the happiest man of the place, what was an excellent way to make the most of the time he had left. Inmersed in the same bliss, the girl seemed more concerned on keeping the master supportive of it than on any dangers of the outside.

Their atypical domesticity gave them a home even when they had nothing. From all the points the German brought up to brag, the one that managed to make his rival somewhat envious. The displays of cheer, as the attentive eyes of the smiling celtic maid following him as if she waited for sign, were to him like being presented with an alternative. Suddenly, the one who refused to engage in the most bassic of trainings at his arrival was fighting fiercely in hopes of catching her reactions to his skills. Not because he believed to be in need of an arrogant showoff to impress her, but due to how seeing that she liked to watch him meant he would rather give her his best. This rush of motivation lasted for as long as the girls were outside, to be found again only at the time they stopped to have a meal.

Not only it was a very much needed break of food and rest, but in that oportunity she was back to serve them. Something that didn't occured in past days, even at other moments where they ate sitting in the yard. Her friend was distributing the bread she carried on a basket while Juliana would start reaching them the wooden bowls of bean gruel. Even if he wished so, he wouldn't be the only one looking through her comings and goings. He was the very first in raising up to help her, reason why no one else dared to make a similar offer.

Something had changed in the hours of her absense and she made it reflect throught little details on her looks. The belt keeping her tunic in place was readjusted thighter to enhace her figure, and two cute braids were carefully crafted after combing her hair again past the heavier work of the morning.

It was a simple yet very efective deliberated effort of making herself prettier, and he was sure to be the cause of it.

" Spaniard, always such a gentleman! " She greeted him happily. " How was training today? I hope Haken didn't turn harsher on you once we left. "

Her startup for small talk, although logical, sounded to him so disconected from the latent tension of being closer.

" The good mood lasted him enough, he doesn't concern me now. I fear I can't blame him, not when you have cheered me up as well. "

She eased her surprise with some nervous giggling.

" Me? How have I done such thing? "

" By being my most lovely admiror. " He sweetly replicated. " It's curious, how the chantings of the crowd do nothing but to make me sick, yet one smile of yours was enough to keep me motivated this entire morning. "

It only made her smile grow brighter, inmediate response to her great delight in his unapologetically romantic words.

" Don't tell Haken, we are friends and he may find it an offense, but you are my favorite of all gladiators from this ludus. Past, present and probably future … "

Only the distance of the bowls they picked mediated between them, but he managed to tease it just a little in order to whisper his matching response.

" Don't tell Luz, but i think you have the prettiest hair. It looks increíbly longer when you let it loose, and I haven't touched it, but I can already guess how soft it must feel. "

They finished the task together, using the distance from the others provided by their need for constant movement to keep whispering lovely observations to each other that had been accumulated through all their time of silent watching. Only once it was done the regained full awareness of the surroundings past the brief contact of handing everyone their food.

After concluding her first task, and noticing someone else she couldn't interrupt was taking her place in helping delivering the rest of the dishes, Lux had been filling vases with the same strange beverage from the day before. Acting as contextual nexus between both, she had made Haken and Juba take seats nearby.

The three of them seemed amused by the same spectacle, observing from afar how they have been chasing each other.

From that point, Juliana understood they had only two ways: they could shy away or double it down. She choose for both of them the bravest option, surprising everyone by taking a seat in the man's lap while holding his bowl for him.

" You skipped him again. " She complained to her friend with absolute naturality. " I hope is not personal, because I really like him. "

They bursted into laughter, unable to process the insane outcome of the situation otherwise.

" I knew it, you traitor!!! " Haken accused her in mocks as fast as he recovered. " What am I supposed to do now? Must I fraternize with my competition? "

" Our friends … " Lux corrected, easing him with a relieving touch on the shoulder. " You have told me yourself of their amazing capacity for teamwork. That's not something you should easily disregard, they may save your life in the arena one day. "

Juba accompanied her attempt of approach, seeing in it the best possible solution for the tensions. Bonding with her would keep him at bay, and that could at least grant them some peace.

" I would like to know what he says of us, then ask to be judged separatedly from his stories. "

The girl picked up the amphora she had forgotten when she ran out of presents to serve.

" I do my own judgements, and I am amazed because you are so nice! How haven't I realized before? "

Juba smiled in approbal, then replied.

" Because you haven't paid much attention to me before. "

She admitted her guilt, seeking to rectify her mistake.

" Want some more? Juli putted some extra honey on it, because today she is feeling sweet. "

The friendly mock got a few chuckles from its victim, too happy to care.

" Would you handle me some?" The Spaniard answered for her. " The curious creative choices of your lovely friend have inmovilized me. "

Caressing his face with her free hand, Juliana dared to get a little playfull.

" Do you want me to leave? "

He let himself fall for it, but keeping the display of his enjoyment as subtle as he could.

" I have to admit that not even in the army I got this receivement. "

They smiled at each other and she placed the bowl higher so he could comfortably eat a few spoons before Lux would get his drink.

" Here you have, Spaniard! I hope we can start over. I have nothing against you. In fact, I don't see you trully invested on the idea of stealing glory from my man."

She handled him the full vase, for him to pick with the one hand that wasn't occupied in securing her friend against him.

" It's what I have been trying to make him see, thank you for noticing."

They chuckled for a brief instant before he took a sip, enjoying the commented improvement by measure of his own taste. The sweentess of the honey gave way to the smokey aftertaste from the ashes, contrast that have found a perfect balance.

Balance that mimicked the one Juba had been advicing him to search in his life, contributing himself through their friendship on the part he refused to cultivate. Since the betrayal had reduced him to a misserable existence he had shut himself down to the idea of getting anything good out of it. Beyond simply rejecting his new condition in silent protest, he proceeded as if he was convinced of only deserving the pain that came from it.

Paradoxical example of the opposite approach, too lost on the perks to acknowledge the sufferings, Haken wouldn't easily understand why a man skilled enough to fairly compete against him would choose not to do it.

" That's what he says now, just wait untill he would have collected enought triumphs to get a real taste of glory ... "

He gave a side look to Juliana that worked almost as a complicit wink, implying he believed that once the Spaniard would have had a taste of her his priorities would change. Perhaps, seeking to use his obtained glory as a way to elevate her prestige among the servantfolk.

" For me it's enough if he makes it alive. I never cared for the stupid hierarchy and I think that's part of why I like him so much."

The Spaniard looked down and smiled, pleased with the answer. Reaction that was so tender to the eye it conditioned Lux to reassure her beloved.

" Do you know that I would love you even If you were at last place on the lists of the gamblers? " She sweetly told Haken, approaching him from behind to round his shoulders with her arms and whisper near his ear. " You are the favorite of my heart, always will be. "

She kissed his cheek and the result of her lovely adoration of him was the most unapologetically foolish smile, that Haken tried to hide kissing both of her hands.

His fellow gladiators were in disbelief of what they have witnessed, sharing complicit glances while fearing that the most minimal reaction would disturbe the scene and make the germanic aware of the vulnerability he had exposed to them.

" Nobody believes me when I say he is adorable, yet look at him! " She commented to them, moving to the front so he could round her waist with one arm. As soon as their eyes meet, her speech switched its aim towards him. " You are so big the chair is too tiny for you! It's the most adorable thing I have ever seen! "

" Haven't you look at yourself?" He sweetly replicated, following the spirit of the praise. " Those round cheeks that blush so easily, and your cute ringlets. Whatever gentleness I have left, it's your cutness what inspires it. "

Juliana and her Spaniard chuckled to the little lovely scene, untill he started whispering very discretely near her ear.

" You won't have to do this anymore. I would rather reserve this kind of íntimacy for our private encounters. "

Her eyes went wide with surprise.

" Would you ask for me after the battles? "

" It doesn't have to be what you are thinking, we can use it as a framework for dates. " He sweetly clarified, believing to be tranquilizing her. " One date after each victory, plenty of time for getting to know each other untill you would feel safe with me. And only then, … if you desire it … "

On the intention of lowering the volume so the more delicate part of the proposal wouldn't be heard, his deep voice had turned slightly huskier.

it taunted her, even if he wasn't trying to be a tease.

" I would love to be romanced, but time is a luxury here. My friend says that when you love a gladiator the worst mistake you can do is to waste time. "

He smirked with amused skepticism, then whispered once more.

" I have no fair match for my fighting skills, … we will have plenty of time to waste. "

#gladiator #gladiator 2000 #maximus decimus meridius #the spaniard #hagen #haken #the german #russell crowe #ralf moeller #gladiator imagine #gladiator fanfiction

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victoria-rue · 2 months ago

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victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 5

Okay, 5th time around, and all I gotta say is making masterlists can be a real pain sometimes. I love to organize, but checking my old lists for updated links and tags is so tedious. I aim for 50 tags in each masterlist, and if I’m short due to deleted stories, I go back to fill the gaps, which just drags out the process. Also, embarrassingly, I recently discovered that every time I edit a post, it renotifies everyone tagged, and I edit a lot. So, sorry to anyone who keeps getting those notifications! The embarrassment and hard work are all worth it when I see these passionate, creative, and hardworking authors having their stories reach more readers, even if it’s just a little bit more. These authors deserve all the love and recognition they receive. May their minds be filled with inspiration and their work supported by love. ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, & part 5

School Spirits

Wally Clark

Skinny Dipping by @houseofaegon

For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Ghost by @storiesofmyhead

Anastasia Nears had loved Wally Clark since she was a kid. Wally Clark had noticed Anastasia Nears the second she walked into Split Rivers High. But Anastasia was born in 1999. And Wally Clark was born in 1964.

What remains of us by @atlas-of-a-human-soul

Y/N's intern year comes to an abrupt end when she enters a school during an active shooter lockdown. Understanding what happened to her, maneuvering this new reality is impossible - but she might have someone willing to guide her through it all.

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow) by @moonmunson

Astronomy by @solarismoons

After suffering a near-fatal fall off the school roof, you begin seeing things you had never imagined possible. Soon, you find yourself trying to juggle Maddie's disappearance and a strange connection with a ghost from your past.

Wally Clark Series by @whoopsyeahokay

October Sun (Book One)

your mother had warned you. Don't let them know, she'd said, her nails digging angry crescents into the flesh of your upper arms, eyes wild and imploring, don't let them know you can see. you'd listened, all these years, you'd lived your life by that rule. until you couldn't.

October Moon (Book Two)

in the aftermath of the theater of terrors, there'd been a single, short moment of silence when everyone had been too stunned to speak. too frightened confused sick horrified to say a word. and then everything had descended into chaos.

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell by @imagine-you

Your relationship with Wally always felt one-sided. You were hopelessly crushing on him and he just seemed happy to be your friend. It isn't until you're there for him after he confronts his scar that you both realize your feelings aren't so one-sided. But will your relationship survive Mr. Martin's betrayal, facing your own inner demons, and Maddie's departure?

You Belong with Me by @schoolspiritsfan14

You and Wally, best friends since birth, you decide to confess your love at the 1983's homecoming game. After a tragic accident, you remain with Wally and other ghosts for eternity. 40 years later, you decide it’s time to finally admit your feelings until someone else asks him out.

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Bodyguarded by @frost-queen

Reader is Rick's younger sister. You're very sweet with a sharp tongue which Shane doesn't seem to like. Shane keeps bothering you as he finds you cocky. To your surprise is Daryl always around to keep Shane away from you eventhough he doesn't like you, right?

Be My Angel by @swangirlxoxo

Searching for You by @lunajay33

Reader and Daryl have been together since you were teens, you have crazy news for him but then the world falls apart and your searching for him every second

My Wife by @xoxo-sarah

Carl Grimes

Just Us by @lunajay33

In a world full of walkers y/n was able to escape with her best friend, but maybe that friendship turns into something more

Harry Potter

Tom Riddle

Looking Glass by @anawritez-posts

In this story, Y/N and Tom Riddle's children discover a hidden portal within Hogwarts that allows them to witness their parents' love story unfold. It all begins when Marvolo, the youngest, stumbles upon the portal just weeks into his first year. Intrigued, he brings his older siblings, Delphini and Mattheo, along for the adventure.

SOULMATES DON'T EXIST by @lizziesangel

everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

Remus Lupin

A Man With a Plan by @ellecdc

secret relationship by @rainydayathogwarts

James Potter

In This Life and The Next by @jacquitries

You were Harry Potter’s best friend, but loss drove you to steal a Time-Turner which accidentally trapped you in the past — before Harry, before the war. You swore to keep your distance, but James Potter makes that impossible. The past wasn’t meant to hold you, and falling for him was never part of the plan. And yet you did anyway.

TWO OF A KIND by @wintrsoul

Who would have thought that sending your son to a summer camp would lead to an unexpected reunion with someone you had sworn you don’t want to see anymore?

Gladiator

Emperors Caracalla & Geta

Domina Mea by @slaytheusurper

After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

Eyes of the Gods by @cherrysweets-world

It takes only once for them to notice you. Nothing will be the same after you have caught the eyes of gods.

Emperor Caracalla

Worth Remembering by @dubiousmetamorphosis

You find yourself widowed, pregnant and forced to chaperone your sister-in-law at the imperial court. At least mourning traditions keep you practically worlds away from Rome's twin emperors. That is, until an injustice calls you to the other side of the imperial seaside residence.

#school spirits #school spirits imagine #school spirits fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #gladiator movie #gladiator 2 #gladiator imagine #gladiator fanfiction

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multific · 6 months ago

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The Emperor's Obsession

Emperor Geta x Commoner!Reader

Warnings: obsession

Summary: Almost every day, you walk to get some bread. You never would have accepted that your walk past the Emperors' palace would not go unnoticed.

Emperor Geta saw you the first time when he looked out his balcony on a sunny day.

He saw a woman, beautiful, young, with a smile on her face, walking with a basket in her hand.

His eyes followed her as she walked.

Soon she disappeared around the corner. But not long after, she walked back with her basket filled with bread.

She intrigued the young Emperor so much that every morning when he woke up, he rushed out to the balcony.

It was not every morning when she walked past the palace. There were days when Geta didn't see her.

He happened to be angrier during those days resulting in more bloodshed.

"Where is she?" the Emperor asked, holding the curtains in his fist. His leg bounced with impatience.

Then, he saw her, walking with the same smile and basket in her hand.

Geta yelled for a guard.

"GO AND GET HER IN HERE!" Geta said as he pointed at the woman. The guard immediately nodded and rushed outside.

You were on your way home with some bread when a guard caught you.

"You, come with me." he said but when you pulled away, he grabbed your hand.

"I swear I didn't steal," you begged but he remained stoic.

"The Emperor wishes to see you." was all the guard said as you were dragged into the palace.

Soon, you saw the Emperor, the younger one.

Emperor Geta stood in front of you, in his cape, he was tall and handsome.

You bowed your head.

"Emperor. I told the guard, I wasn't stealing." you tried to defend yourself.

"My Darling, your voice is exactly as I imagined. Sweet and pure, like honey." you opened your eyes and looked at the Emperor.

You knitted your brows, confused.

What did he mean by imagined? Why did the Emperor imagine your voice let alone how did he know who you were?

"I'm sorry?"

"You are perfect to be my wife."

You were speechless after that.

Wife? Did you hear him correctly?

He must be joking. But no, his expression...

He walked over to you, and grabbed your hands into his, making you drop your basket of bread as it fell to the floor. He kissed the back of your hand.

He must have gone mad.

You will be accused of being a witch. The Emperor must have gone mad.

Well, crazier than he already was.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a room with the Emperor, there was a cup of wine put in front of you and you looked at the rich red liquid and then at the Emperor.

"What's wrong Darling? Do you not like the wine?" it took you a moment to reply.

"It's not that, Emperor Geta, I'm simply confused. I was heading home..."

"Do you have a husband?"

"No." your answer came way too quickly.

Why did you feel like you needed to clear that up so fast? And why did he have such beautiful eyes?

"Perfect, we will be married by the end of the next moon." he smiled and strangely, you found it calming.

---

During your time in the palace, you were given a room, clothes, food and wine.

Your soon-to-be husband definitely had a taste for luxury. So did his brother whom you have grow closer.

His childish behaviour, his laughter, and the fact that you didn't have a sibling, but you were sure this was what it felt like having one.

Emperor Geta's obsession with you didn't stop nor did it fade.

As the days passed, he had grown more and more obsessed it seemed like.

No one was allowed to touch you or even speak to you except for Caracalla.

The servants feared the Emperor might kill them if they look at you.

But why were you happy about this?

Were you truly this desperate for love?

Ever since you lost your parents you were alone. Pretending to be good and smiling at everyone when you just wanted to yell and scream.

With Geta, you didn't feel the need to pretend.

Your smile came naturally.

"My Love?" his voice came from the doorway as you turned and greeted him with a smile.

"Emperor Geta."

"Dinner is served, it will be just the two of us, my brother is attending a party." he held his hand out to you and you took it, allowing him to guide you down the halls.

"I'm happy to spend time with you." he smiled at you as you arrived and the table was filled with food, all your favourites.

"I made them cook your favourites. It is the night before our wedding after all. I wish for it to be special." he said.

"Every day I spend by your side is special." you told him as he sat down across from you.

As you ate, Rome prepared for the wedding of their Emperor. As you smiled at him, he smiled back.

After dinner, he walked you back to your room. It will be your last night there because, starting tomorrow, you will be joining him in his bed.

"Sleep well, My Love." he kissed the back of your hand, and as the door closed behind you, you knew you were doomed.

You might have been his obsession, but he became yours.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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alexandertheanxious · 5 months ago

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Seriously considering writing a Geta x reader x Caracalla fix where a regular modern reader somehow goes back in time, meets the emperors, and they're just like "you're so weird, I'm obsessed with you" like straight up outlander vibes but with two freaky gingers

#chat is this anything #this is a fic idea with no target demographic other than myself #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator imagine #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #thinking thoughts

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tsunchani · 6 months ago

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who wants to write my lucius verusx reader req pls?

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus imagine #gladiator imagine #gladiator x reader

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megalony · 4 months ago

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Like A flower

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine which can be read as a prequel to Maimed My Wife. Thankyou anon for requesting this.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Main Masterlist

Summary: Despite traditions and advice from the Senates, Geta can't just sit and wait while his wife is in peril in labour. So he goes to sit with her through the ordeal.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What are you doing?" Geta's tone was an octave deeper than usual, laced with sleep and a hard gritty edge that gave away he had been soundly sleeping just a few minutes ago.

He nudged his head back on the pillow and tiredly peeled an eye open to look up at (Y/n), considering he was laid down and she was sitting up. He noticed that she was propped up in a mountain of pillows in a vain attempt to make herself comfy, but he wasn't sure why she was even awake.

He tried his best to open his eyes properly and look up at his wife.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but he judged from the dreary look in (Y/n)'s eyes and the tiredness written across her face that it was late. The only source of light in their room was the faint glow of the candle resting on the table beside the bed.

As his eyes adjusted to the faint glow in the room, Geta focused on (Y/n) as he slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting beside her.

She was reading a book.

(Y/n) paused, hovering her index finger over the line she had been reading so she didn't lose her place as she looked sheepishly across at her husband.

She could feel an apologetic smile pulling on her lips as she tilted the book down so it was resting on her thighs. It hadn't been (Y/n)'s intention to wake Geta up. She thought reading another chapter might tire her out enough for her to be able to get to sleep, but clearly it wasn't working the way she intended.

Her eyes followed Geta as he found the soft grey feather she always used as a bookmark for whatever novel she had picked up. Geta himself was never one for reading, but he was more than happy for (Y/n) to read passages of her books to him or poems she enjoyed. He found it rather soothing, but it was probably just her voice that enraptured him more than the stories themselves.

He slotted the feather into place so (Y/n) could place the book down on the table now that Geta was awake with her.

"Why are you reading so late?" He whispered while his hand delicately came up to rest beneath her chin, tilting her head in his direction so he could capture her lips in a kiss.

"Couldn't sleep." The words were uttered against Geta's mouth as he practically inhaled each breath (Y/n) tried to take.

She leaned her cheek into his hand and when their lips parted, (Y/n) tilted forward so she could lean against his shoulder.

"You should be resting." Geta curved his right arm around her lower waist and pressed a tired kiss against her temple. But he couldn't refrain from sliding his other hand across to rest on her stomach. It was late at night and the healers had said that (Y/n) would be set to have the baby in the next week or two. This was when (Y/n) was supposed to be resting and sleeping and not doing anything too strenuous.

She wasn't supposed to be sitting up through the night reading and draining herself like this.

Geta continued to brush his fingers over her bump and every now and then he scrunched up the fabric of her gown like he was tempted to rip the material so there was nothing separating him from her stomach.

His lips attached to the top of her head and he breathed in her scent for a few moments as he tried to gather his tired, wandering thoughts. But even as he glanced down at (Y/n), Geta could tell that she was tired. He didn't want to say that to her, it wouldn't be the kindest thing to say to the woman having his child. But she did look tired and it was late into the night.

"The baby won't settle and I can't sleep."

She wanted to. (Y/n) was desperate to lie down and go to sleep, but her back was twinging every few seconds and it didn't get any better when she tried to lie down. Then when she had laid down earlier, the baby kicked up a storm and started wriggling around, making it impossible for (Y/n) to manage any sleep. She thought she may as well try and entertain herself by reading if sleep was going to evade her.

"Well we can't have that, can we?" He murmured into her hair before he moved to lie back down again, his arms still around (Y/n) so she took the hint and laid down with him.

He helped her burrow into the nest of pillows that had slowly started to accumilate on the bed over the last few weeks. Some (Y/n) had requested and others the maids had simply brought and placed on the bed as they thought it might help and make (Y/n) feel better and have more comfort.

Lying on her back didn't help, if anything it added to the pressure and increased the pain so (Y/n) tried to turn and lay on her side. She wriggled and shifted around with her back to Geta and one of the pillows pulled down so she could burrow her face into the soft feathers and silk.

Geta smiled to himself, staying still while (Y/n) shifted every which way to try and get herself comfy. Once she seemed settled, he draped his left arm over her waist with his fingers brushing and drawing patterns over her bump.

He could feel her knees pulling up against her stomach and she shimmied around a few more times, clearly trying to lay in a position that didn't make her back twinge or disturb the baby. He attached his lips to her neck while his fingers danced across her lower abdomen, drawing aimless patterns and nonsense words to try and calm both her and the baby.

He had loved seeing (Y/n)'s shape change over the last few months and feeling their baby move and show how strong they were was like a dream.

Geta felt a sense of pride at the fact that it hadn't taken them long at all to conceive a baby, and this was their first. He knew his own mother had struggled to have a living child, although she succeeded in the end by having twin boys, and surviving the ordeal. But he and (Y/n) were lucky.

Her health hadn't declined at all, if anything (Y/n) was growing stronger each day and their baby was clearly strong and brave. He was hoping that this was a sign, that everything going well meant that when (Y/n) went into childbirth, everything would go smoothly and she and the baby would be fine afterwards.

It was no secret that Geta had been worrying as much as he was celebrating about this baby. He didn't like things going too well because he felt like the Gods were testing him and they would send tragedy down to him when things were going too well.

But as they laid there with his hand on her stomach and his face burrowed into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, he allowed himself to smile into her skin. He banished the paranoia and panic he felt and tried to bask in the happiness that he was feeling right now.

(Y/n) was sure she heard him muttering something about going to sleep and settling the baby, but she was too exhausted to focus on making out his words. She let herself bask int he feeling of his teeth grazing her neck and his hand gliding all across her stomach.

The memory of the previous night hung at the forefront of (Y/n)'s mind as she slowly sat up in bed.

She could still hear Geta's voice from this morning when he told her to stay in bed and rest. (Y/n) had been close to disagreeing with him but she had been tired enough that all Geta had to do was kiss her temple and nudge her back down on the bed and she complied. She heard him telling the maids to disappear, to leave (Y/n) to rest and that was all she heard before her mind switched off and let her go back to sleep.

But now that she was awake, (Y/n) didn't feel very well. Last night it had been her back and the baby constantly moving that made her feel uneasy and broken. But the very brief twinges (Y/n) had felt last night were now uncomfortable and strenuous.

She had been prepared for this. Her mother and the maids had prepared her for what would happen when she was with child but things had been so much easier than they made it seem. And (Y/n) knew that was because of Geta. No one had expected him to be so doting and worried.

They thought Geta would become distant, that he wouldn't be around (Y/n) as much when she was pregnant. The Senates expected him to retreat and find concubines. The healers expected him to have separate lodgings from (Y/n) while she was pregnant. And no one expected him to be attached to her hip and become fiercely protective over her the way he was.

(Y/n) moved her hand to cradle her temple that was beginning to throb and ache like someone was chipping away at her like she was a statue made of marble.

Her other hand pressed down into the mattress to keep herself sitting upright and to stop from falling back on the bed. If she laid down she might not be able to will herself to get back up again.

"Morning, my lady."

Her head turned to the left and she smiled when she saw Blaire timidly walking into the room. But once she realised the Emperor wasn't here, her demanour relaxed and she seemed to thaw out.

Blaire was one of the maids who served (Y/n) and she had become a friend, someone (Y/n) felt she could relax around and talk to without feeling self conscious or uneasy.

"Morning." (Y/n) did her best to hide the wince from her face when her temple throbbed worse and her stomach tightened.

She moved both hands to the edge of the bed and slowly stood to her feet. It was time to get up, it was well past time to get up when (Y/n) was used to waking with Geta and starting her day after dawn the same as him. Although (Y/n) wasn't sure she would be doing very much today with how awful she was feeling.

"Are you alright?" Blaire stood beside the bed, clearly waiting to be told what she should do in terms of helping (Y/n) dress or making the bed. (Y/n) was never one to let the maids help her dress, not until it started to become difficult with her intricate dresses now she was pregnant.

(Y/n) tried to nod, but she knew she wasn't very convincing and she wasn't sure where she was trying to move to. Whether she was aiming for the closet or the table to fetch a drink, she wasn't too sure.

But three steps away from the bed, a gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and both her hands moved down to clutch her stomach when it felt like a coil within her had snapped.

Both women looked down to see water trickling down (Y/n)'s legs and creating a puddle on the marbled floor.

A quiet "Oh," left (Y/n)'s lips as her head snapped up to look over at Blaire. So this was why she had been in discomfort last night and why she was feeling so strange and run down.

The baby was coming.

(Y/n) wasn't sure that she was ready for this. This was the moment she had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. If anything went wrong, (Y/n) could lose her baby or quite possibly her life. Things had been going far too smoothly up to now, it felt like a daunting sign that something was bound to go wrong at some point.

She didn't realise Blaire had moved until she felt the young maid holding her arm and lower back as she slowly started to walk (Y/n) back until her knees hit the bed and she sat back down.

"I'll fetch the midwife, my lady."

"T-tell Geta, please?"

Tears were already building up in (Y/n)'s eyes when she thought about her husband and the fact that he wouldn't be anywhere near (Y/n) until after this ordeal was over.

She wanted him to know, (Y/n) wanted Geta to know she was in labour from the very beginning so he could be nearby. He could wait and pray for this to go smoothly. But what (Y/n) wanted most was something that wasn't going to happen. She wanted to have Geta here with her. Having him holding her hand right now would be a great comfort and his presence would be calming to (Y/n).

As Blaire hurried from the room, (Y/n) tilted her head down and wiped her hand beneath her eyes to try in vain to wipe away her tears.

She would have to endure this ordeal on her own.

***

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face as she slumped her head back into the pillows that were mounted behind her. She could feel her body trembling like she was laid on blocks of ice but she felt like she was beginning to burn up.

Her hand tightened around Blaire's as the young maid knelt beside her on the bed. She was being encouraging and a good source of support, but she wasn't the person (Y/n) wanted next to her and they both knew it.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, basking in the feeling of the damp cloth that Blaire dabbed at her neck and forehead with the ice cold water she had retrieved not long ago. She tried to scream but it came out rather defeated from the lack of energy and the searing pain.

"H-how much longer?" There was such a pleading tone to (Y/n)’s voice as she looked over at the midwife who pursed her lips.

"Not much longer, Empress."

Somehow (Y/n) didn't believe that. They had been here for hours already. The sun was lowering, getting ready to set behind the sand and darkness would soon envelope them. They had been here for hours, almost a whole day of agony and it didn't ever feel like it was going to be over.

(Y/n) had been prepared for this, but that didn't mean she found it easy to endure the pain. Her only relief was the knowledge that so far, no one seemed panicked. Nothing had gone wrong, the baby was still in the position and moving agonisingly slowly, but everything was going in the right direction. There was no need for intervention which had been a big worry for (Y/n).

When another budding pain coursed through her body and had her screaming out, (Y/n) tried to move. She didn't know what to do with herself but lying down like this wasn't helping.

Her hands flapped about and pressed down into the bed until Blaire helped ease her back up so she was sitting upright. She leaned away from the pillows and pushed forward until she was creased over and her knees were still bent out to the sides. She could barely feel her lower half anymore.

Sobs bubbled past her lips and tears drenched her face as she tried to stop herself from gasping and switch to panting like the midwife had coaxed her to do earlier.

"Would you like to use the birthing chair-"

"No. I want Geta!"

(Y/n) didn't care how feeble and broken she sounded, all she cared about was wanting her husband here beside her. Why wasn't he allowed to be with her? Why couldn't he be here to witness this? If this wasn't a man's place then the Gods wouldn't have made it so that a man was needed to create a child. If this wasn't Geta's place then the Senates shouldn't be so concerned about his offspring. Healers wouldn't be allowed to be in the room if this wasn't a man's place.

(Y/n) didn't want to be doing this alone. She wanted her husband by her side, she wanted his hand in hers and his calming presence beside her and his words hushed in her ear.

What if this didn't end well? What if something happened and (Y/n) passed away? She wanted Geta here in case she was to suffer or this was to be her last moments.

The healers and the midwife had tried to tell Geta that he and (Y/n) should have separate chambers now she was pregnant. They told him that abstaining from sleeping together while she was pregnant was safest for her and the baby and Geta told them that he could abstain without needing to move rooms. He loved his wife and he wasn't leaving her side for anything. So why was this any different?

"This is no place for a man, my lady. That would be most improper, and you are doing splendidly."

If (Y/n) weren't in so much agony she would have held her chin high and told the midwife that she was the Empress. She was of high authority in Rome and she shouldn't be chided like that. She would have told the midwife that she wanted her husband and so he should be brought to her.

But (Y/n) wasn't in the right frame of mind to try and hold herself high and mighty and she didn't have the power within her to argue when she knew it wouldn't do her any good. In this room her status as Empress was demoted and she was simply a woman giving birth. The midwife had taken charge and the power in the room was now hers.

Tilting her head to the left, (Y/n) meekly looked up at Blaire with sorrow in her eyes. "Where is he?" She whispered brokenly.

She has asked for Geta to be informed and (Y/n) knew he had. She knew that he and the Senates would have been informed because the Senates would now be waiting impatiently. They were setting their hopes on a boy. They wanted (Y/n) to produce an heir to truly secure Geta and Caracalla to the throne. A boy would mean they were safe and their line of succession was not to be worried about.

(Y/n) knew when Geta had announced her pregnancy to the Senates that he had snapped at them for 'praising' him for such a swift line of succession. They had only been married three months before (Y/n) became pregnant. Geta had told the Senates that (Y/n) was their Empress and they had no need to act as if giving an heir was her only duty. No one had commented after that.

"In the next room my lady, with the Senates. They asked him to wait down in the hall, but he wouldn't stray from you."

Those words brought a wave of comfort to (Y/n)'s aching, mortified heart that was close to shattering at the pain she was in.

Geta had been told to wait in the great hall or in the drawing room or even in Caracalla's chambers. He wasn't supposed to be so close while the labour was happening, but Geta wouldn't listen. He wasn't going to allow the Senates to drag him to the other side of the palace and be away from his wife.

What if (Y/n) took a turn for the worst? What if she needed him? What if the baby wasn't well when they were born?

Geta had to be as close as possible so he was the first one to hear any news and in case anything went wrong and he had to divert to prayers for the safe delivery of his wife through this ordeal.

He had been praying to Juno for the past eight months, making sure she knew how desperately he wanted her to keep watch over the Empress and give her safe passage through childbirth. Of course Geta had prayed for his child too, but (Y/n) was his priority. He could cope with the loss of a baby, but he couldn't cope with the loss of his heart and soul.

So Geta was in the adjoining room, the study, waiting for any news on his wife who he needed to be close to.

"He's here?" (Y/n) spoke more to herself than to Blaire whose hand she squeezed and pulled towards her chest when a particularly harsh contraction tore at her muscles.

The thought of Geta being so close by was comforting but it was also harming because he wasn't here. He wasn't with her right now when she wanted and needed him. Desperately.

"Ooh… Geta!" Tears streamed down her face as she screamed loudly and allowed her head to hang forward like her neck had broken.

"No more." The words seethed past Geta's lips and he pushed to his feet before anyone realised what was running through his mind.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't sit out here with all of these men, these imbeciles, waiting for news that was clearly going to take a while. Geta hadn't been persuaded to leave the chamber and move to the hall. He hadn't been persuaded to talk state matters and affairs of conquering and of war. No one could get him to speak. He wanted to sit in silence until the ordeal was over and he could see his wife and baby.

But Geta couldn't sit here any longer. He couldn't listen to the sound of his wife's screams- all of which he had heard since the moment he walked into their chambers. He couldn't hear her sob or scream or writhe in agony. The sounds were muffled but they were distinct and he heard her scream his name. That was the last straw.

She was calling out for him and if Geta didn't heed her wishes and go to her, he would never forgive himself. He would listen to her cries each and every night for the rest of his life and chastise himself for not looking after her when he should have done.

Maybe Juno would spare (Y/n) and their child, maybe the Goddess would look after them if Geta did the same. If he went in there now and comforted (Y/n) and did whatever he could for her, then perhaps Juno would see that he was serious in his prayers and she would listen to him.

After all, Geta was Emperor, he was the closest to God in all of Rome so his prayers had to be listened to. They had to.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he pushed off the sofa, rounding the table as he stormed towards the double doors that led into the bed chamber. He needed to see his wife. He needed to help her and make sure she was alright. She wanted him.

"My Emperor, it's a woman's ordeal, your place is to wait with us for news." Whichever of the Senates reached for his arm clearly realised their grave error when Geta snapped his head to the left and his dark brown eyes burned into their very soul.

"It's my wife, my child, therefore when my wife calls for me, my place is by her side."

Were they all really going to stand there and try to tell him that being with his wife when she was in clear agony was not his place? Who's place was it then to calm her down? The maid? The midwife she barely knew? A healer whose presence would cause more alarm than calmness?

"It's not proper-"

"Do you think it is proper to vex me in this mood, Senator?" The blade strapped to Geta's waist was quickly unsheathed and he held the blade to the Senator's throat with a menacing gleam to his eyes.

He wouldn't stand here and be told how to do things and how improper he was being. If they were going to go against their Emperor then they had to be ready to have their throats slit at his mercy.

No one in the room seemed to know what to do or how to respond. They were beginning to realise that spending their time with the diseased Emperor might be safer for them than here with the enraged Emperor. If Caracalla was in one of his enlightened moods then they would find favour with him.

"All of you get out."

No one needed to be told twice. The Senates didn't want to argue the fact that they should be here by tradition. That it was their place to stay here and await news. They needed to be told whether the succession was a Prince or a Princess. But they could be told the news by a servant. Waiting here was vexing the Emperor and he was no stranger to cutting the throats of those who irritated him.

The moment another scream coursed through the air, Geta turned on his heels and sped towards the chamber doors.

He threw them open with haste, allowing them to resound loud clattering bangs throughout the room that caught everyone's attention. Once he was in the room, Geta hastily shut the doors behind him so no lingering Senate could catch sight of his wife while she was indisposed.

"I'm here, I'm here love."

A loud sob left (Y/n)'s lips when Geta stormed into the room like a whirlwind. Her bleary eyes followed him as Blaire quickly retreated towards the window to make room for the Emperor to take her place on the bed.

Geta sat down on the bed with his thigh touching (Y/n)'s and his right arm quickly bound around her back with his hand cupping the back of her neck. He leaned in to attach his lips to her temple that felt like he was kissing the sun and scorching his lips, but it didn't deter him at all. And he allowed (Y/n) to hastily grab his left hand and clench so tightly he thought his knuckles were going to pop through his skin.

(Y/n) felt like stars were dancing in front of her eyes when Geta sat down beside her. She didn't think he would hear her, or that the Senates would allow him to come in here. Part of her wasn't even sure he would stay with her to begin with. But the fact that he was here caused hundreds of tears to pour down her face which she tucked up against his neck as she leaned into him and openly cried.

She heard him murmur "I'm here," into her temple again while his thumb began to glide up and down the back of her neck rather forcefully, giving her something to focus on instead of the overwhelming agony she was in.

But Geta snapped his eyes down to the midwife who was leaning over the end of the bed. She was frowning at him. Her brows were furrowed deep, her lips were rolled so tightly he couldn't see them and her prominent chin was jutting out and pointing in his direction.

"Sir this is most unbecoming-"

"If you wish to keep that tongue where the Gods intended then you will take care of my wife in my presence."

That was enough to stop the midwife from saying anything else. She did indeed want to keep her tongue and she had the prestige honour of delivering the Prince or Princess. She didn't want to ruin this honour by upsetting the Emperor.

"Another push now."

(Y/n) did as asked, pressing her chin into her chest as she snapped her eyes closed, trying to ignore the pain that was consuming her, but it didn’t work very well. She wanted this to be over, she wanted their baby to be delivered right now so everything could stop and she could find some sense of peace.

(Y/n) jolted at the sudden feeling of the cold washcloth pressing against her thighs but the cold temperature against her skin did feel soothing.

"Blaire, another sheet." The midwife ordered with a certain tone to her voice that Geta couldn’t quite decipher. He narrowed his eyes, leaning over to look at her but his breath got caught in his throat as he realised why she was asking for another sheet. The one beneath (Y/n)’s legs was stained with blood.

The midwife couldn't seem to look at Geta for long before she looked away, scrunching up the sheet and dumping it on the floor with a few used towels. She and Blaire made quick work of placing the new sheet on the bed beneath (Y/n)’s lower half. Geta didn’t know if there was meant to be blood or not, he wasn't equipped or taught in the ways of childbirth, but he suspected that was more blood than the midwife would have liked.

Although he was relieved that when he looked down again, this second sheet didn't seem to be soaked or drenched with blood which meant whatever was happening wasn't dire. The midwife still had things under control, she didn't need to resort to the healer who was waiting in the corner of the room in case anything went wrong and his services were needed.

"Push again Empress, the head’s almost born."

(Y/n) both moaned and screamed at the torture that was tearing through her muscles. Letting out a sharp breath, (Y/n) closed her eyes as she buried her face into Geta's neck, feeling him muttering praise against the top of her head.

(Y/n) started to push again on the next contraction like she was advised but she felt like she was becoming lightheaded. Geta kept his hand entwined with hers and his other hand began to stroke up and down her arm rather than her neck.

With her head tucked beneath his chin against his chest, it allowed Geta to attach his lips to the top of her head. He kept tight hold over her, hushing and murmuring into her hair as he let (Y/n) hold his hand to the point of breaking bones. He didn't care as long as it helped.

His presence beside her was clearly calming because she was no longer sobbing and he was calm too. He wasn't sat fretting, worrying about (Y/n) succumbing to death or becoming ill or deteriorating. Actually watching her like this meant Geta knew her screams were part of the process, not indicating a problem.

He wondered how other people could leave their wives to go through this ordeal alone. How could they be so selfish? With his own father Geta could understand; his father was a cruel man who didn't care for anyone but himself and his greed. His mother had been better off alone with her maids than with her husband.

But this was different. What (Y/n) and Geta had was special, their love was unlike any other and Geta was glad to be here with her. Any other children they had, Geta would be by (Y/n)'s side through it all.

"Almost there now, my love." Geta prayed that the long wait and the hinting signs of good fortune had not been deceiving the couple. He prayed that all would go well now.

"Please, Almighty God m-make it end now." (Y/n) pushed her words through gritted teeth as her free hand crossed over her chest until she could clutch her hand around Geta's arm. She tucked herself into his side and screamed as she tensed up and pushed like her life depended on it.

It felt like she had broken apart. A horrible ringing sounded in her ears, overcoming any other sound in the room. Her body was floating and shaking and tingling all at once. Her vision turned to black and white dots until (Y/n) had to close her eyes to stop herself from groaning and being sick.

"All done, Empress. You've done it."

Geta couldn't help the sigh of relief that left his lips as he pressed a flurry of kisses against (Y/n)'s temple. And he began gliding his fingers up and down her arm, drawing patterns and circles over her flushed skin until she seemed to come back to her senses again.

"There you are, my love." He hushed, pressing a chaste kiss to her ruby red, chapped lips before his eyes moved to the midwife.

He could feel (Y/n)’s hands slowly grasping his arms tightly that were coiled around her frame as her blurring vision fought to find the midwife holding her baby.

An overwhelming sense of dread crept through (Y/n)'s system the longer they waited for the midwife to speak.

Had she produced an heir to the throne? Had she had a son, or was she granted a daughter? Was their baby okay, were they living?

(Y/n) knew the Senates had been counting on her having a son. She knew that if she had a daughter, the Senates might see this as a betrayal. They would say that (Y/n)'s body had failed Geta, that she couldn't be a true Empress until she gave him a son and if she didn't they might just conspire against her. (Y/n) hoped Geta wouldn't see things that way.

She knew he wanted a son to follow the succession. It also meant that if Caracalla had any legitimate children, Geta's child would succeed first because they were first-born. Although it was highly unlikely that Caracalla would have any heirs of his own that were legitimate. But still, an heir to the throne was something that was Geta's and his alone. He wouldn't have to share this victory with his brother like he had to share everything else- apart from his wife.

"Come along little one… let’s have a cry out of you." The midwife’s words were rushed and out of breath.

She was stood at the end of the grand four-poster bed, her arms trembling with the child she knew needed to be alive for the sake of everyone in the room. Everyone in all of Rome, in fact.

"Geta…" (Y/n) could feel bile rising in the back of her throat and her body slowly tried to lean forward but Geta's strong hold wouldn’t let her. He knew if this went downhill then he would have to pin (Y/n) down to prevent her from gaining an injury and from tackling the midwife to get to their baby.

But as tears filled (Y/n)’s eyes and she felt Geta's chest tensing beside her, the sound of a startled but very strong cry shocked the room.

"A girl, Emperor."

Something strange flooded through (Y/n)'s system upon hearing those words and the disappointed tone in the midwife's voice. It felt like her body was changing, turning numb as she sank back into Geta's side.

That was the tone of voice that (Y/n) was expecting the Senates to use if they found out she'd produced a daughter, not a son. But she didn't expect it from the midwife.

It made her heart clench and stutter in her chest about the kind of response she was going to receive from Geta.

Most people, when they heard about the pregnancy, simply assumed and hoped that it would be a boy. Once or twice Geta had referred to the baby as 'the prince'. But most of the time he simply talked about their baby and having an heir, he never specified, but he didn't need to.

He needed a son to secure the succession. Having a girl wouldn't help the succession but a girl did mean marrying into other royal lines and gaining allegiances through marriage.

(Y/n) felt like her heart was beating for everyone in the room with how frantic and hard her organ was overworking itself. Her chest heaved as she tried to gain her breath back while she tilted her head back and looked up at Geta, desperate to gauge his reaction and see whether he was okay or if he was disappointed in her. She hated to disappoint him in anything but if he were truly upset in this moment (Y/n) didn't know how she would survive.

"Geta?" She didn't have the heart to reach out and touch him in fear of what he might say or do, fretting he might get up from the bed and silently leave the room in anguish.

Her arms coiled towards her chest and she suddenly held her breath when Geta leaned forward.

Her eyes watched him curiously as he leaned forward and extended his arms towards the midwife. No words were needed for the midwife to understand what she was being asked. She moved round to the side of the bed and carefully eased the newborn into Geta's tense, waiting arms.

No one expected him to smile.

He encased his arms towards his chest and smiled down upon the life resting in the crook of his elbow. The life he had helped create. The life he had witnessed being brought into the world.

His smile was warm, something softer and kinder than anyone had seen on the seemingly heartless Emperor that many were afraid of. No one thought he could look so lovingly upon anyone but his Empress. But the way he stared down at his daughter was as if the Gods had personally handed him something worth more than its weight in gold.

To him, this little girl was worth everything. More than all of Rome and her conquered lands.

Geta trailed his index finger down his daughter's plump cheek, barely able to tear his eyes away from her until he felt (Y/n)'s cheek delicately press into his bicep. He felt her hands curling around his arm as she leaned into him when it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

He was happy. (Y/n) wasn't sure how she thought he could have been anything other than delighted in this moment. The Senates and their narrow-mindedness had panicked (Y/n), but sitting here now, seeing her daughter in her husband's arms, it was like nothing she had seen or felt before.

And when Geta leaned down and pressed a longing, searing kiss to her flushed temple, (Y/n) squeezed his bicep and smiled against his skin.

"She's such a precious little thing, like a flower."

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