#minerva price | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

integra1127grimmreaper · 2 months

Text

The Path of Gods: A Daughter's Sacrifice - Part I

Series Masterlist

Warning:

Summary: Eldest child and only daughter to the late emperor, half-sister to the present reigning emperors and the first female general in Roman history. Said to have been blessed by the goddess Minerva (Athena) with the wisdom of strategic warfare and brute strength never having been witnessed to be held by a mortal female in all existence. Infamously known as the Severan Harpy, adored by many, yet feared by all. You sacrifice all; body, mind, soul, and lastly, love... all in the name of loyalty to family. This your story, the prelude to your greatest battle yet to come.

Merely a magistrate under the reign of emperor Marcus Aurelius and already having been married for three years; Lucius Septimius Severus and his wife yearned with their whole being for a child and prayed for anyone of the gods to grant their hearts desire at any cost. Through divine power, their prayers had been answered by the Goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft, the goddess Minerva, yet it would come at costly leniency toward the child's heartfelt desires. That night they were both visited by the goddess within the dream-realm.

"I beseech any of the gods to answer my prayers and bless me with a child!" the woman tearfully pleads out into the open abyss surrounding her.

"Wipe away your tears child, your prayers have been answered..." a firm feminine voice utters out from above her.

Tearful gaze raising upward, the woman gasps out in realization that she was now in the presence of the goddess Minerva, "my Goddess!", her head dips back down in respect.

"Lift your head up, child", the goddess commands.

"You honor me, my Goddess" the woman raises her head.

"You have suffered greatly in your quest for a child..." the goddess stares at her sympathetically.

"My Goddess, I-"

"Hush now, child" the goddess cuts her off. "It is done. You shall have the child which you yearn for."

"Praise be to you, my Goddess!" the woman cries out in joy, dropping back down to bow.

"It will come at a price though" the goddess utters then.

"Anything!" the woman eagerly agrees, "anything you ask for, my goddess!"

"This child shall not be like any other mortal" the goddess explains, "the child shall be gifted in many ways, therefore its potential shall not be hindered, no matter the circumstance."

"As you command, my goddess" the woman bows in agreement.

"What is this place?!" Septimius scans the open abyss in confusion.

"Cease your hysteria, mortal!" the goddess Minerva appears in front of him.

"My Goddess!" Septimius abruptly drops to his knees.

"Arise so I may directly address you, mortal", the goddess commands and he does as told. "I have granted the prayers of yours. There shall be a child born unto you and your wife."

"I thank you, my Goddess!" Septimius drops into a bow again.

"You may not be so grateful, as it will come at a price", the goddess remarks.

"Speak it and it shall be done, my Goddess..." Septimius instantly agrees as she continues explaining.

"The child shall be extraordinary, far more than any mortal ever, a master strategist and exceptional warrior."

"That is more than I could ever ask for, thank you Goddess..." Septimius ecstatically responds.

"You shall swear an oath; that the child's potential shall be fulfilled, that nothing nor no one shall hinder it."

"As you command, my Goddess", Septimius submits, "I swear upon my life."

"Your life is meaningless to me" the goddess remarks. "Should you break your oath; your entire bloodline shall be abolished though."

"I swear to uphold the oath, regardless of all circumstances" Septimius responds.

"Excellent" the goddess nods, a glint of satisfaction passing her eyes. "Now return to the waking-realm. Your child awaits you..."

"She should be preparing for marriage, not warfare", your mother mutters in disapproval.

"You know as well as I, that is not a matter of importance" your father responds as he proudly observed your training in the courtyard.

Your mother scoffs in response, "how is she to find a husband if she is marred with battle scars?!"

Turning around, your father shoots her a warning glare. "We made an oath. Should we not uphold it; then our entire bloodline shall be eradicated!"

Your mother opens her mouth to speak but it cuts her short. "Enough! Valeria shall do as she pleases. We are merely here to nurture and guide her through the path that she chooses."

"As you wish" your mother mutters under her breath, tilting her chin upward in dissatisfaction. "I, however, refuse to stand here and witness my only daughter becoming scarred and disfigured!"

"You underestimate my girl, woman!" your father scoff's. "She has already outwitted and conquered all her mentors and yet there is still room for improvement."

"What do mean?"

"The emperor has heard of our daughter's abilities and has sent for a military commander to assess her."

Your mother's eyes widen in shocked, "who?"

"The newly appointed, General Acacius."

"Him?!" your mother screech's, "he is a harsh man and even more merciless warrior."

"Which makes him perfect!" your father excitedly exclaims. "Acacius is also the only one closer in age to her."

"I would hardly call a man in his thirties being close in age to a sixteen-year-old girl!"

"He will have more patience with her than the elder generals" your father attempts to sooth her fears. "They might even fall in love... you do wish for her to find a husband after all."

"The situation suddenly no longer seems as horrible..." you mother remarks, deep in thought.

"Precisely!" your father grins in response, "he would be a great advantage to our family."

"Acacius might be the only man capable of taming our Valeria..." your mother agrees.

"Yes, that may all be well and good, but we cannot force it" your father reminds her, "it must be Valeria's own decision."

"Very well" your mother nods in agreement, "yet, I shall nonetheless pray to the gods for it."

"As you should..." your father matter-of-factly state, turning back toward watching you train.

"So, this the girl I am here for...?" General Acacius stood scrutinizing your fight against your latest mentor.

"That is my daughter, Valeria, yes" your father comments proudly. "She is everything you would desire for a skilled warrior."

"Except for the fact that she is a girl", Acacius remarks.

"Skill is skill, regardless of one's sex" your father scoffs, "she is a formidable force when it comes to fighting."

"I would not boast so loudly if I were you", Acacius warns your father, "the emperor might come with the idea to thrust her into the gladiator fights."

"I have already steered him away from those thoughts" your father assures him. "I thank you for your concerns though."

"Then he has considered it?" Acacius' eyes widen in shock and your father snorts in amusement.

"A young, beautiful woman, with the skill and power she possesses...? Of course, he would. It would be of great entertainment to watch her rip apart the gladiators one after the other."

For a split second, Acacius felt his cock twitch at the vision described to him. Awkwardly clearing his throat, nodding toward the courtyard then. "Let us begin."

"Come now Caius, that cannot be all you have to offer..." you playfully taunt your mentor, who was breathing harshly whilst you had barely broken a sweat.

"That mouth of yours will wind you up in trouble one day, little one" he warns, a smirk spreading across his face when noticing the general and your father approaching from behind you.

You scoff in amusement at his word, "you are only bitter because you could not outbest me!"

Caius' smirk spreads to a full-blown grin as he taps a finger against his temple. "In time, little one..."

You were about to retort, when Caius' suddenly bows and then silently proceeds to walk off.

"Caius where are you going?!", you frown at his retreating form, taking a step forward. "Caius?! Wher-" you were cut off by a harsh tug of your braid. A large hand winds the braid tighter around it, tugging you backward against a hard chest.

"Your number one weakness when in the battlefield...", a harsh male voice snarls into your ear.

Basic instinct instantly kicking; you throw your head backward full force into his face, driving your elbow into his gut thereafter as you rip loose from his grip.

"Valeria!!!", your father bellows out as you whirl around to face them with your sword held up. You silently stared as he rushes toward the whizzing man, doubled over, "General Acacius?!"

The man pushes your father aside as he stood up and silently glared at you. With a mocking arched brow and a head tilt; you reach back for the tail of your braid, pulling it taut as you lift the sword up to cut it off. "Issue solved", you remark, tossing the braid at his feet.

"My apologies, General", your father splutters out, "my daughter has a tendency to act before thinking."

"I thought about my action before executing them", you comment, refusing to back down.

"Valeria!" your father scolds you, turning toward Acacius to apologize yet again but the general pays him no attention. His lips twitching in silent amusement at your antics.

"Feisty... I like it."

Pt II

#general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #pedro pascal

92 notes · View notes

sunny-mercya · 3 months

Text

A mere Human

Sting Eucliffe x Male Reader

Fandom -> Fairy Tail

Masterlist

When Sting had meet you—accidentally during one of his missions—he thought, you too were a child of the dragons. With your complexion of beauty and the way you spoke, so mighty end elegantly as if you belonged to a upperclass—royalty even—family, you easily could be counted as such.

You weren't.

Sting notice that soon enough, bringing a roar—one of deep buried down in the guts—of anger out of him. Not because of you, you weren't at faults here, but at your "Master" or to be more precisely—your handler.

The handler, who had requested the help—and belonged to a guild, which was more a tribe of fanatics worshippers and dark mages—had asked Sting to help him bring you closer to the true power of the Water-Dragon.

You weren't an actual child of the Dragons—like Rouge, Natsu or him—you're just a mere human. Meant to be sacrificed to the deities above.

Sting was baffled, couldn't understand how humans could be so absurd cruel to their own kind. Neither did he understand the ritual they were doing to you. Though what Sting understood—a sort of desire, like a small flame it felt like—that he had to save you. Even if it meant buying you. Prices, how ever high, wouldn't matter to him.

The price was high, so ridiculous high that it took Rouge and Minerva 4 hours to bring it down to an affordable price of 50,000 Jewels (original price, 9950,000,00) for you and Sting had proudly claimed it had been worth all these Jewels.

~~~

Half a year later since Sting had brought you into freedom and yet you're still the same skittish boy with an servant like mindset, when he first had met you and it drove Sting always into a fit of upcoming anger.

Rouge had reminded him over and over again, that it would take some time, effort and patience to break those patterns from you—but Sting wasn't known to be a patience person and when he had cornered you—one day when you were about to clean something again—you got into fright so much that you wailed shrill into a sobbing and released a weeks downpour of heavy rain.

Sting pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it slightly to ease the pressuring ache of annoyance which keeps building up. Just watching you, how you kneeled on the floor—head down, which gives your neck and back pain again and Sting knows that means another steaming hot bath, looking focused on some simple old card game in front of you—was turning the once felt annoyance into anger again.

Of course, Sting was and would never be angry at you—only at your past handlers, who made you into this mess of anxious fright and dumbly strict following every rule and command—but sometimes the fuel of up staggering annoyances, does made it look like as if Sting was angry with you.

»Oi! [Name], how about we take a stroll around town?«

»We can't, Master Sting. It's getting dark and it rains.«

Sting wanted to laugh at the paradoxical answer you gave him. Someone like you, who could—even when it's unintentional—do weather magic, was not a fan of rain is surely a silly thing to say.

He didn't laughed, decided to sigh out instead. Knowing well the story behind your distaste of rain, which he truthfully had gotten from Minerva—because somehow, for whatever reason, you spoke more with Rouge and Minerva than him and it makes Sting only slightly jealous.

Being forced to create a heavy downpour and than having to sit in said rain for month, was a new form of punishment—Sting didn't knew existed till now.

»Fine. At least sit on the bed to look at those stupid cards. Please.« Sting scoffed

Wordlessly you scoped up the cards in your hands and stood up—making your bones crack and snap sickeningly loud—taking a seat on the bed, next to Sting and holding the card deck now—letting a silence emit between the two of you.

Sting sprung up from the bed, turning to you and ripping the cards out of your hands—throwing them onto the ground, making them scatter around in a mess—face visible morphing into a violent expression of rage.

»Why are you like this?! Why can't you be normal for once, huh?! You know what, don't fucking answer at all! I have enough, fucking enough!«

With an uproar of curses and nasty words towards you, Sting took ahold of your wirst, gripping them tightly and pulling you up—with such a force, that a whine escaped your lips—from the bed and out of the room.

Marching through the guild towards the front door with you, Sting sneered at everyone who comes across his way—especially at Rouge and Minerva, who came running to him and demanding to let you go.

»Sting. Let [Name] go.«

»And why should I?«

»Because you're frightening him.«

»Oh really? Well, that's the only thing he's good enough for, being a little whiny boy. He's so fucking useless and pathetic, annoys me to no end!«

»Sting! Don't you dare!« but Rouge's objections to whatever Sting was planning to do with you, felt on deaf ears.

Sting had opened the door, throwing you outside into the rainy darkness—telling you not to dare to come back inside at all, if you hadn't learned to be useful.

~~~

The heavy downpour—filled with so much sadness—hadn't stopped even weeks after, flooding the riverbanks and streets into a small ocean like lake—the water almost knee high and fishes already been seen swimming in it.

Minerva stood before you, umbrella held above the both of you, looking down at you—and your bone drenched, shivering and trembling mess of bodily limps form—with an expression of minimal sympathy and concern.

In Minerva eyes, you looked rather pathetic and pitiful—a weakling like a newborn is what you are—but that's your charm, Minerva mused, which makes her—kinda, in a sibling like way, after all you too are a child of the water—like you.

»Don't you want to come back inside?« she asks, voice lacking from any kind emotion to speak.

Rouge and Minerva had tried many times, to convince you to come back inside, but all their attempts had been futile—as you didn't want to leave your spot, wouldn't bug with whatever way of sugarcoating and bribery they tried—and they both came to the point, where neither of them wanted to continue with such time consuming wasting.

»No. I can't. Not till Master Stings allows me to.« you uttered in a whisper, voice hoarsely meek.

Minerva sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head—should have expected your standard answer.

Despite what Sting had said to you, Minerva knew he hadn't exactly—really not all—meant it in such way, not fully at least—only a small portion of it perhaps, but otherwise it was just the anger which spoke volumes out of Sting.

But without you, Sting was a mess too—lounging around and nagging about boredom and how lonely—especially in bed, without his personal heater and cuddle buddy, which he only begrudgingly admits—he felt, but Sting is too proud and arrogant—in his own selfish way—to say such things, those signs of weakness for a an might Dragon-Slayer, out loud.

»Alright. I come by later then.« Minerva walked away and leaving you by your lonesome once again.

If Sting, Minerva mused in her thoughts—while getting back inside the guild—only wouldn't be so egotistical dumb.

#male reader #x male reader #anime #manga #fanfiction #malereader #oneshot #fairy tail #sting eucliffe #sting eucliffe x male reader #xmalereader #sting x male reader

90 notes · View notes

manifesting-minerva · 1 month

Text

Ghosts & Banshees (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader) - Part 1

Author's Note: I welcome you all to my blog. It has been ages since I wrote fanfiction on here but I thought I should get back in it. I used to have a fanfiction blog back in 2016 where I wrote for multiple fandoms but ended up deleting my blog in 2021. I got obsessed with Call of Duty (I never played it but Ghost and König set a wild fire in me) so I thought I'd give it a shot. Naturally, I'm not an expert when it comes to the games or anything related to the military so mainly it's from research I did. Enjoy this piece (might write additional parts in the future if it does well). - Minerva 🐦‍⬛

Summary: An old friend of John Price joins the 141 team, by his recommendation.

Warnings: Mild language, alcohol ingestion, inaccuracies when it comes to military.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Monday morning. Bright and early, the men of Task Force 141 woke up at the crack of dawn. Their body's internal clock had gotten used to them waking up at 5am but the booze they indulged themselves in the previous night had taken a bit of a roll on the aforementioned "internal clock".

Nonetheless, with their bodies soaked in sleep and taking heavy steps, they made their way down to the base's mess hall, trying to eat away the hangover they manifested the night before. Johnny and Kyle were wiping their foreheads, trying to soothe the aching boom in the heads while walking languidly behind them was Ghost who seemed to be sober than them.

"Liver of steel you got there Johnny." Ghost teased the Scot, his British accent thick in sleep as he watched his friend fighting to keep his breakfast down. Gaz wasn't much help to Johnny either as he also chewed his food slowly. Too weak to reply and with little energy, Johnny shot a cold and annoyed gaze at his friend.

Ghost watched the men in front of him as he washed his breakfast down with a cup of black tea. Nothing soothed his soul like a nice cuppa in the morning (or any time of the day).

Minutes had gone by and they exited the mess hall, laughing about the moments they shared the previous night from Price's arm wrestling to Kyle's poor flirting techniques to Johnny's drunk dancing on tables. Ghost always considered himself as he is. A ghost. Watching from the corner silently, occasionally beating Price's unbeaten streak of arm wrestling to pulling Kyle in a chair after embarrassing himself in front of the ladies to pulling down Johnny off the tables and shoving glasses of water in front of him to sober up, convincing him it's a type of vodka (which Johnny took enthusiastically).

They reached Price's office who jumped off his chair when he watched his men enter, trying to compose himself with a big smile on his face. "Good morning gentlemen." He coughed as he settled with them around the table.

The men adjusted comfortably in their seats, waiting for the meeting to start. "Alright lads, I know last night was tough and thankfully today we don't really have a lot of work to do but we do have a mission coming up in the next few months that would need your undivided attention." He looked over to Johnny who was slowly dosing off in his chair. Ghost, "ever-so-gently", took the initiative to smack his friend in the back of his head, surprising Johnny.

"This should wake you all up." In Price's hand was a manila folder which he planned on the table. "Since this mission is sensitive to say the least, we need a pair of extra hands to help us complete it successfully. Hence why I asked an old friend of mine to assist us in the upcoming mission which she kindly and gladly accepted. She is one of the best snipers and combat fighters I've ever worked with...no offence gents."

"Did he just say 'she'?" Johnny whispered loudly.

"Ah so I do have your attention then Soap!" Price chuckled. "Now you all better keep it in your pants. She is also a medic and I'm sure she'll find a way to castrate you in your sleep if you try something funny. Come in Sergeant Y/N."

And there she was. Standing at 5"4 feet tall in black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that hugged her body nicely. Her soft dark brown hair danced behind her as her brown eyes scanned the room.

"That's not a very nice way to sell me Captain." She chuckled as she made her way over to him. Jaws dropped.

"She has my undivided attention." Johnny whispered to the two men seated next to him. From his cold state, Ghost felt something inside him jolt, like a bullet just fired in his chest. A warm sheet of sweat covered his body, pupils dilated as he watched you and Price hug as he greeted you. No one ever took Price for the "huggy type" person but all formalities flew out the window when he patted her back gently afterwards.

"Welcome Y/N to Task Force 141. We are glad to have you with us. She will also be doing training with the new recruits," Price announced. "Just in case you get bored." He whispered in your ear, chuckling.

Y/N observed the men in front of her when her eyes fell on the only masked man in the room. But before she could introduce herself properly, Johnny bounced from his seat, finding his newly hidden energy.

"I'm Johnny but you can call me Soap." He shook her hand gently and beamed a smile. Kyle was up next.

"I'm Kyle but you can call me "yours"." He said with a small smirk on his face. She swore she felt Price's eyes roll to the back of his head as did the masked man's.

"It's too fuckin' early Gaz." Price scoffed.

"It's Gaz." He said when he received a silent response from the men. A heavy hand landed on Gaz's shoulder and was pulled back. And there he stood at 6"4 feet, dressed in tight fitting black clothes and a balaclava with a painted ghost mask on it with black shadows around his eyes. His fluffy blonde lashes never once fluttered as his eyes were stuck on her, like he's never seen a woman before.

Intrigued by the new member, Ghost approached silently, taking his hand out to introduce himself. Standing tall, towering over her tiny self, he shook her hand.

"Ghost." He said. Short and sweet.

"But you can call him-"

"That's enough Johnny!" Ghost barked.

Once they let go of the handshake, Price stepped in. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a tour of the base as well as showing her her sleeping quarters. Her place wasn't big but it was comfortable enough for at least 2 people to live in. A kitchenette, a bathroom, a double bed and a living room with a comfortable couch, TV and a balcony that led to the outside. All she had to do was spice it up with her taste in decorations.

"If you need any help or have questions, we don't bite we're literally next door." Soap offered as he placed her bags in her apartment followed by Gaz. Ghost stood at the frame of the door leaning as he scanned her apartment.

"Thank you gents. I appreciate the warm welcome." She beamed at them.

"If you want, tonight we're heading for a couple of drinks if you want to join us. It's a good opportunity to get to know you a bit more." Gaz said, hoping she'll say yes, to which she did.

***

That evening Task Force 141 gathered around the bar table, downing a pint of Guinness each, laughing along each other's jokes.

"So bonnie," Soap licked the froth from his lips. "What's your code name?"

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "You didn't read my Manila file? I'm impressed at your restraint Soap."

"I'm more of an upfront guy you know. Like to look people in the eyes when I talk to them. He smirked like.

"Do you want to take a guess?" Her lips landed back on her pint of Guinness as she looked around, her eyes landing on Ghost. He is thankful yet again for his balaclava that hid his blush.

"It's Banshee. Price actually suggested it years ago." She chuckled. Price patted himself on the back for this one. "Ay, you're fuckin lethal Y/N." He said sipping on his drink.

"Why do they call you 'Soap' Johnny?" Y/N asked, spinning the subject to the man next to her.

"Let's say I clean up well." He winked at Y/N. "I'm fast, efficient, accurate." While Soap continued praising his agility and the speed he can clean a room and his urban warfare tactics (as Gaz called it "jerking himself off with his own compliments"), Y/N's eyes get again landed on Ghost. His legs splayed open covered in dark jeans and a shirt that was two sizes smaller than his actual size. The way his muscles were ready to rip the sleeves of his shirt, his dark tattoos littering his arms and if her eyes served right, they landed on his crotch where a small bulge could be seen. Immediately averting her eyes when she noticed Ghost's hot gaze on her.

He must hate me. She thought to herself as she diverted her attention back to the rest of the team.

And nothing short could be said about Ghost couldn't take his eyes off her. The way she threw her head back in sweet laughter or the way she punched Soap's arm when he teased her. Or the way her lips gently closed around the rim of the glass and swallowed her beer.

Ghost knew something was about to change.

Ghost knew he was fucked.

#simon riley imagines #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagines #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagines #call of duty imagines #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #task force 141 #task force x reader #cod #cod imagine #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader

49 notes · View notes

nethhiri · 5 months

Text

Marooned: Chapter 35

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: violence

Origins

Killer was right about a fuck coma. You slept for the entire rest of the day, until the next morning. Killer had helped you take a bath, getting in himself, though quickly regretting it when he kept having to hold your wrists. He gave you an inch, several actually, and you wanted a mile. He insisted you couldn't take any more after that afternoon, to which you replied by healing yourself completely. He muttered something about being just like Kid and finally convinced you that you needed to take a nap.

The light coming in through the window made you squint. How long did I sleep? You stretched and groaned. At the foot of Killer's bed, Minerva made a short squeal in greeting. Killer let her sleep here? Your heart squeezed. Pushing yourself up, you noticed that he had also gotten clothes for you, which were neatly folded on the bed. This was so strange. You were unaccustomed to people doing nice things for you of their own will. When you were a captain, you could just tell them to do something for you.

You came out on deck with your signature coat, having appropriately mended and cleaned it. The sun on your face tickled your cheeks and the wind tugged gently at free strands of hair. You took a moment to enjoy the view, the flat blue horizon, scratching Mini's ear as you did so. You used to have a tri-cornered hat with a feather in it that made you look quite distinguished. It would be perfect to put on now if you still had it. The time between when you left the marines and when you were caught by them were your freest, doing whatever you wanted. It was chaotic, the exact thing you had left your home island for, but perhaps that made you feel some connection to your old home. Maybe you missed the chaos.

You leaned on the banister, looking down at the water. The waves broke up your reflection as the vessel cut through the water. From this view, you could pretend you were still on Fate's Wraith. It's not like you didn't like it here, it was different though. You weren't the captain here. In some respects it was nice, no responsibilities. On the other hand, you couldn't act as you wanted. You still kind of did, but It helped that the captain's dick had a soft spot for you...hard spot?

Sighing, you thought about what might have been if nothing had happened to you. Would you have run into the Kid Pirates? What would have happened then? Would you still be hunting marines? Would you have killed Van Kossa and Warthin by now? Would you even still be alive? Maybe your crew would have betrayed you for the highest price no matter who it would have been. If the Kid Pirates fully assimilated you into their crew, would you still dwell on the past? Could you ever let it go? Not until those bastards are dead.

You woke up in a good mood, a great mood even. Why were you being so nostalgic? It was self-sabotage to make yourself upset with old memories. As a kid, you ran the streets under the guise of being a boy, it was safer that way, begging at first, stealing later. In your teen years, you hung around a rough crowd of girls, unable to hide behind short hair anymore. You protected each other from being sold to slavers and fleshtraders, not always successfully. Soon you were the last one left. The others had either left or were killed. You thought about staying, joining another of the gangs that ran the streets. In the end, you watched a girl a bit younger than you be slaughtered by the gang with the most power at the time. That's when you made your decision to get as far away from there as possible, joining the marines, the opposite of that chaos, the good guys. So much for that.

Thinking of your younger years and your home island conjured up the words to an old song. The world knew it, although every island had its own variations of the verses. The one on your island was fitting for an island dedicated to crime. You hummed the tune as you stared down into the sea, switching to softly singing the words to yourself when it was time for the verse:

Gather up all of the crew, it's time to steal all Binks' brew. We will go, to where, who knows? The loot will be our guide. Robbed behind the tavern's side. Thieves and bandits far and wide. Whores they sing, of lustful things to pirates passing by.

"Where'd ya learn that?" Something about it itched Kid's mind.

You jumped, not noticing before that Kid had come up beside you. "Sorry. M'not a good singer."

"Aye. Stick to yer day job."

The man was honest, no doubt about that. "And what is my day job?" You continued staring forward, fixated on the ocean.

Kid looked at you from the corner of his eye. You were looking at the sea with such a mournful gaze. The softness of your features in the mid-morning sun was new to him. Maybe you knew it, or maybe you didn't, you were always guarded. In truth, in your most vulnerable states, Kid still had trouble completely reading you. He could see you with clarity in this moment, a creature of pure melancholy. There was a part of him that wanted to grab the back of your shirt, considering your demeanor was that of someone who wanted to disappear into the waves. You were so lost.

Kid had been drawn to stand next to you in the first place because he saw you watching the ocean, hair reflecting the sun, coat billowing out behind you, and thought that must be how you looked on your own ship some time ago. He thought you would have the fiery gaze he was accustomed to seeing and was taken aback when your face showed the opposite. He would have retreated, except he was pinned in place when he heard the words that you sang to yourself.

"Yer the doctor of the Kid Pirates." Kid's hand wavered over your shoulder, before lightly cuffing the back of your head. "Don't be stupid." Kid wasn't good at this kind of thing. He wanted to put a hand on your shoulder as a measure of comfort. Thinking it would be odd coming from him, he changed his mind. What he really wanted to do was pull you into his chest and make you forget about the past.

The two of you stayed there for a minute or two in silence. Kid thought he could see the ghost of a smile on your face, a little less lost.

You turned away from him. "I'll be in the crow's nest."

So soft he could barely hear it, a "Thanks, Kid" came from your direction as you walked away. It may have been the wind, which seemed like it was picking up.

About an hour or two into your watch, it started pouring rain. Not the best of times to volunteer for this job, though you needed time to yourself. The strong wind had it pelting you, so not only was it cold, it sort of hurt, too, like a hundred little projectiles. Kid knew what he was saying, you don't know if he appropriately thought it through or discussed it with anyone else, but he meant it. You could tell because he immediately followed it with something rude, to balance it out. While the rain hid the fact your cheeks had been streaked with tears, it couldn't hide the red stain around the rim of your eyes. You weren't even entirely sure why you were crying. Probably many reasons, all coming out at once. You had felt better afterward. The emotions had been pent up for some time, it seemed. The harsh rain drops and tumultuous sea mirrored you in a way.

The fabric of your clothes clung to you, cold and wet. Your hair, though weighed down with water, kept whipping you about the face in the strong wind. The boat's rocking was accentuated by the fact you were farther from the center of rotation up in the air. You kept your station, eyes fixated on the horizon on all sides. There were rocky outcroppings ahead, with enough space for a ship to pass through. It didn't sit right with you. You knew that there would be something waiting in the middle. It was only a hunch, no observation haki to back it up. Call it experience. It appeared that you intended to sail right through it if you didn't say something.

You climbed about halfway down the mast and jumped the rest of the way to the deck. Yelling from the nest would do no good with the wind howling as it was. The sails had been drawn up, so the wind didn't rip them, or worse, bring the mast down. The waves pushed the ship forward even without the sails. You found Wire at the helm with Killer beside him.

"Hi, Y/N. Why aren't you at your post?" Killer noticed the redness to your eyes. Now wasn't the time to comment on it.

"I don't think we should continue on this course."

Wire acknowledged you with a nod. "Why not?"

"I can't say for sure. Something isn't right."

"We can take shelter from the wind behind the rocks."

You shook your head. "This stretch is known for bad weather, but it's short. We can sail right through it in another hour." Your eyebrows knit together. "I think they want us to shelter there." You looked at Killer, trying to convince him.

"We'll only stop until the wind lets up." Killer looked at Wire. "Storms like this don't last long. I can't sense anything ahead that's suspicious."

You looked at Killer, disappointed that they trusted you enough to follow the map you drew, but not enough to take this advice. Maybe you were overreacting and it was nothing. The feeling in your gut told you otherwise. You couldn't argue more without a solid reason. You were doing your best to fall in line, especially with the olive branch Kid extended to you earlier. You gave him a short nod of understanding, though repeating, "I really have a bad feeling." Sometimes trusting your gut trumped observation haki, but you did trust Killer.

You returned to your spot in the crow's nest, not before grabbing a rifle and a few explosives. If things turned sour, you wanted to be prepared. Using your power, you merged the rifle's bullets with the explosives. It would either blow up in your face or work as intended, exploding bullets. Your gunblade wasn't as good with long range shots, and neither were you. Actually, they probably shouldn't have let your visually impaired ass in the crow's nest to begin with. Minerva stood vigilantly at the base of the mast, as you asked her to.

In a shorter amount of time than you would have liked, the ship approached the gap in the outcroppings. The water between them was calm, as Wire expected. There weren't any ships there that you could see. You learned a while back that there were a series of metal rudders that Kid could control to stabilize or guide the ship through rough water. It couldn't propel them forward, yet; he was working on that. He must have been using these somewhere to make sure they didn't get smashed into the rocks.

There were no sounds, save for the echoing of rainwater dripping through cracks in the stone and the roaring waves. There was something else, quieter. Chains? The roar made it hard to hear anything at all. All at once, harpoons were fired from the rock walls, from inside the rock walls. That's why you couldn't see anything. They were huge, made to keep ships trapped in place or be torn apart trying to flee. It happened too quickly for Kid to manipulate them with his fruit, though shortly after, you could see the crackling purple energy that belonged to him try to pull the hooks out without causing too much damage. It was not a fast process. If he pulled them out too roughly, there would be huge holes in the hull.

Ropes fell from openings too, pirates sliding down and landing on deck. You could see Heat burning through them if he was in range, causing the pirates to either fall into the sea or hastily retreat back into the rock. The canons barely made a dent in the walls. The harpoon guns were anchored to the rocks on the inside. When Kid pulled one out, another was quickly in its place. The next one he pulled, you took aim at the harpoon gun that corresponded to it, praying you wouldn't explode. What a time to test a stupid idea. You pulled the trigger. You didn't explode, but you missed. There was a small explosion in the rock next to the harpoon, which startled the person manning it enough that they didn't reload. That gave you time to shoot again, this time hitting the base of the harpoon gun. The resulting explosion loosened the rock beneath it, and the gun fell into the water. No damage was done to the ship since the harpoon connected to it had already been removed by Kid.

There were three on each side. One was taken out. Five were left. You only had 2 more explosive bullets. Kid looked up at you and pointed to the middle one on the same side. You gave him a thumbs up. Aiming carefully, you waited until Kid freed the hook and shot, repeating this process for the last harpoon on that side. One side of the ship was released, causing it to drift closer to the other side where it was still attached. Kid pointed to the next one, but looked away before waiting for your thumbs up. There was no way to let him know you didn't have any more special bullets. You could just shoot the operator, however another would take their place, and you didn't even have enough regular bullets for everyone.

Without Kid focusing on the metal rudders and the loss of the chains on the one side, the ship was rocking more freely. It was hard to see, but the rock face had a narrow path carved into it so people could walk back and forth between stations. You were a bit higher than the shelf. The ship's rocking brought the crow's nest close enough that you could make the jump. There wasn't time to decide if that would be wise, Kid was already working the harpoon out and expecting you to take care of it. If Kid didn't get his full attention back to the rudders, they were going to be smashed against the rock when they tried to get out of there.

You waited until the mast rocked toward the rock face, at the last second using the momentum to make the leap. The rocks were much more slippery than you anticipated and you landed hard into the stone. But you landed. The enemy stared at you open-mouthed, very obviously not expecting anyone to try something like that. Using their stupor, you rushed them and shoved them over the edge. Then you were about to use your power to dislodge the harpoon, when you had a better idea. Quickly, before anyone could get to you, you reloaded the harpoon and aimed it at the next one. The resulting shot caused the ground underneath the middle harpoon to crumble. That's when you realized mistake number one: now you would have to jump across to the next portion. Almost immediately after that, you realized mistake number two: since the harpoon was connected to the one that fell, it was suddenly jerked into the water also, and you felt the ground start to give under your feet.

Kid looked at the crow's nest to signal you and you weren't there. He looked on deck, thinking you had fallen or jumped. His eyes darted around to find you. Then, the loud rumble of falling rock caused him to look up, and watch you realize your fuck up in real time.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE THINKING?!"

Killer, who had been covering Kid, looked where his captain was looking. "What the fuck?!"

You hauled ass to get to the other side of the gap, jumping at nearly the last second. Drawing your weapon, you jammed the blade into the rock, knowing you didn't jump quite far enough to make it. You clung to the edge and made an attempt to pull yourself up. One of Big Mom's pirates saw you, walking towards you with bad intentions. You should have been scared or anxious or any number of other feelings. In spite of that, you were having fun. A lot of fun really.

"Watch out!" You warned.

The pirate paused. "For what?"

"There's a big spike right below you."

He looked down, the flat rock below him. "Nice try." It was glowing strangely. "Wha-?" A spike of rock shot up, impaling him.

"Told ya." You pulled yourself up the rest of the way and skirted around the dead man.

There was one more harpoon. The Victoria Punk strained against the last hook and Kid was already working to free it. As soon as it was released, the ship surged forward. There was no reason to get rid of the last gun. Though now you were realizing you had no plan to get back on the ship, and it was moving away. It was within jumping distance. Landing distance was a different story. You supposed you could fix your shattered ankles. You saw the chain to the harpoon and used your power to turn sever and shrink the links. If you had more time, you could have formed a better plan, but for now you wrapped the chain around your torso. You stood at the edge of the rock. Finding Kid's face, you pointed to a place in the air. It took him a second to understand, but you saw him give you a thumbs up. This was probably gonna hurt, maybe less than shattered ankles though. You backed up to give yourself a running start, aiming yourself for the spot you pointed to. The metal was heavy as you leapt toward the ship and you fell fast. You didn't care that it was reckless. The wind against you made you wonder if that's what it was like to fly. And the pouring rain made it nearly seem like you were swimming, something you had forgotten how it felt. It was...freeing.

There was a harsh tug, your vision filled with violet, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as you thought it would as Kid caught you with his devil fruit. You thought the chains would dig into you. Kid had enough finesse and practice to make it smoother you figured. Even better. Your plan was excellent, if only in hindsight. You didn't register you were laughing, flat on your back on the deck. It took a second to reorient yourself, a bit dizzy from jumping, though it was more like free falling. There were several faces above you, one of them very red and very loud. Oh I'm being yelled at.

Crack! The sound of splintering wood acutely grounded you, as the mast leaned toward the deck, specifically toward where you lay.

Next Chapter

#y'all I got a new favorite chappie #someone is about to get scolded #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #one piece #marooned #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #x reader #made myself cry with this one lads

45 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 7 months

Text

1989 Quidditch World Cup Masterlist

Anaticula Year One Summer Break - Quidditch World Cup

Summary :

Rock meet immovable force. The price of a stolen name is set to be far more than most would dare demand. But a young girl is poised to take on Cornelius Fudge, Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France Luc Gerard, and anyone else behind the interwoven plots to keep hidden the identity of a nameless Witch stolen away by Morfin Gaunt back in 1935. Two Ministers, a former Supreme Mugwump and countless Aurors chose to place themselves as obstacles around circumstances none of them understand.

But said Witch guides the Granddaughter she possessed on a path to find the family left lost searching decades for hint of where their lost child had been. The Quidditch World Cup is fair cover when a plot is afoot. But after the confetti settles Fudge's try to cover his own culpabilities in several prominent murders are in plain view once all distraction of the all enamoring tournament has faded. Now the Wizengamot is summoned and the Minister is on the wrong end of an investigation that will severely cripple all he has worked for thus far.

...

Chapter 1 - A fox in the coup

Chapter 2 - Off to Australia

Chapter 3 - Round One Day One - To First Lunch

Chapter 4 - Round One Day One - Everybody Wants to Be A Cat

Chapter 5 - Round One Day One - Letters

Chapter 6 -

June 23rd Day 2 & June 24th Day 3 - Hello Neighbor, Won't You Be My Friend?

Chapter 7 - June 25th Day 4 & June 26th Day 5 - They Think You're Trying to Eat Them

Chapter 8 - June 27th-29th Days 6-8 - Ghost Snakes & The Death Pool

Chapter 9 - June 30th - Traveling to Tanzania

Inspirational art/images for Tanzania Host City Round 2+

Round Two July 1st-9th Masterlist :

Chapter 10 - Don't Forget Your Hat

Chapter 11 - Apologies From Bond

Chapter 12 - Yusuf Kama

Chapter 13 - The Adopted Miss Weasley

Chapter 14 - He Loved Her

Chapter 15 - Friend of Newt, Friend of Mine, and the Collector of Pine

Chapter 16 - Petals and Plots

Chapter 17 - Puffins

Chapter 18 - Daughter of Death, Seahorse's Niece

Chapter 19 - Pegasus Race

Chapter 20 - France Welcomes the Young Miss Gaunt

Chapter 21 - Owl Firing Canon

Chapter 22 - Snake Scales and Heroic Tales

Round Three - July 10th-17th Masterlist :

Chapter 23 - Sunflowers and Scalding Turnips

Chapter 24 - Pair Dadeni

Chapter 25 - We’re Holding A Fancy Garden Party And You’re Invited

Chapter 26 - If I Had A Sickle For Every Vulture I’d Own Sherwood Forest

Chapter 27 - - Wrath of the Whimsy

Chapter 28 - Blue Moon Celebration

Chapter 29 - Sisters From Other Misters

Chapter 30 - Maroon Darling

Chapter 31 - To The Beginning Again

Round Four - July 18th-25th Masterlist

Chapter 32 - She's So Lucky She's A Star

Chapter 33 - Presents For Petunia From The Grumpy Pumpkin

Chapter 34 - Burn Baby Burn Rule Skirting Inferno

Chapter 35 - Grandpapa Mr Truffles The Chocolate Frog

Chapter 36 -Such A Pity the Pretty Damaged Thing Exploring the Watery Deep

Chapter 37 - Tumbling Tophats

Chapter 38 - It's Raining Acromantula's

Chapter 39 - Sour Apples Upon the Parade

Round Five - July 26th-31st Masterlist

Chapter 40 - Bludger, Beater, Try Not To Die

Chapter 41 - Warm Milk

Chapter 42 - We Slither at Dusk

Chapter 43 - Shock and Awe and Fwooper Claws

Chapter 44 - I Fell

Finals - Round Six - July 31st - August 5th Masterlist

Chapter 45 - Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Chapter 46 - Changeling Prince

Chapter 47 - Barty Jr and the Potoo Bird

Chapter 48 - The Tiny Lantern and Litany of Woes

Chapter 49 - Minerva's Foxtrot

Chapter 50 - Reeds Greener in Other Ponds

Chapter 51 - All Aboard

Post Cup - Masterlist

August 6 - Two Cakes

August 7 - Sign Here

August 8/9 - In Lands Where Merlin's Laws Fail

August 10 - Slither On By Friend

August 11 -

Chugging Along To Merry Old London & Dursleys Go To The Ballet

August 12 - Purchasing Sherwood Forest & Maleficent and the Court of Morgan La Fey

August 13/14th - Hello Diggory & The Two Old Saps

August 15 - Cornelius Fudge v Matriarch Gaunt

August 16 - Wales Magical Beasts Aquatic Reserves & New Zealand Snake Talkers

August 19 - The Stolen Button & Secret Flock

August 20 - Sprouting Beaks and Breaking Doors

August 21 - Unkind Truth

August 22 - Pounds Sterling

August 23 - Gemstone In A Pile of Pence

August 24 - Climbing Cow

August 25 - Babies Have Claws

August 26 - WWW First International Order

August 27 - Oh the Woe To Be Eaten By An English Garden

August 28 - In Search Of A Look At Me Aren't I Important Kind Of Frame

August 29 - If You Give A Dancing Cacti A Lemon

August 30 - Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

August 31 - I'm Just Crackers About Cheese

- Continue onto Year 3 at Hogwarts Book in series -

#Harry Potter #Longfic #series #masterlist

76 notes · View notes

androidcharles · 10 months

Text

The CCC really gets it's funding from making marketable plushes of the most popular CCC employees... JK! ...unless

#the henry stickmin collection #cody night #minerva price #katie's stick drawings #stickmin oc

36 notes · View notes

blueiscoool · 1 month

Text

Rome's Vestal Virgins: Protectors of The City's Sacred Flame

Chosen as young girls, the priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth, swore a 30-year vow of chastity and in turn were granted rights, privileges, and power unavailable to other women in Rome.

Marcus Licinius Crassus was one of the richest and most powerful Roman citizens in the first century B.C. Yet he nearly lost it all, his life included, when he was accused of being too intimate with Licinia, a Vestal Virgin. He was brought to trial, where his true motives emerged. As the first-century historian Plutarch recounts, Licinia was the owner of “a pleasant villa in the suburbs which Crassus wished to get at a low price, and it was for this reason that he was forever hovering about the woman and paying his court to her.” When it became clear that Crassus’ wooing was motivated by avarice rather than lust, he was acquitted, saving both his and Licinia’s lives.

One of the most remarkable elements of this story is the fact that Licinia owned a villa in the first place. Unlike other women, Licinia could own property precisely because she was a Vestal Virgin. The story of her trial also reveals how that privilege came with a price: A Vestal Virgin had to abstain from sex, a sacred obligation to one of Rome’s most ancient customs that would continue until Christianity ended the cult in A.D. 394.

FIRE GODDESS: The remains of the Temple of Vesta stand in the Roman Forum. Unlike most temples, it did not contain a central image of the goddess. It was the site of the holy fire and a repository of various sacred artifacts.

Vestal Veneration

According to Roman authors, the cult was founded by Numa Pompilius, a semi-mythical Roman king who ruled around 715 to 673 B.C. Unlike most Roman religious cults, worship of Vesta was run by women. The hearth was sacred to this goddess, one of Rome’s three major virgin goddesses (the other two being Minerva and Diana). The rites surrounding the Vestals remained relatively fixed from the time of the Roman Republic through the fourth century A.D.

Six virgin priestesses were dedicated to Vesta as full-time officiates who lived in their own residence, the Atrium Vestae in the Roman Forum. The Vestals’ long tradition gave Romans a reassuring thread of continuity and may explain the Temple of Vesta’s traditional circular form, a style associated with rustic huts in the city’s deep past.

KEEP THE FIRE The Vestal Virgins tend the sacred fire of Vesta, on whose protection Rome depends. 17th-century oil painting by Ciro Ferri, Galleria Spada, Rome

This place of worship, which lay alongside the Atrium, was where the priestesses tended the goddess’s sacred fire. Once a year, in March, they relit the fire and then ensured it remained burning for the next year. Their task was serious as the fire was tied to the fortunes of their city, and neglect would bring disaster to Rome.

To become a Vestal was the luck of the draw. Captio, the process whereby the girls were selected to leave their families and become priestesses, is also the Latin word for “capture”—a telling turn of phrase that evokes the kidnapping of women for brides that took place in archaic Rome. Records from 65 B.C. show that a list of potential Vestals was drawn up by the Pontifex Maximus, Rome’s supreme religious authority. Candidates had to be girls between the ages of six and 10, born to patrician parents, and free from mental and physical defects. Final candidates were then publicly selected by lot. Once initiated, they were sworn to Vesta’s service for 30 years.

On being selected, their life was spent at the Atrium Vestae in a surrogate family, presided over by older Vestals. In addition to room and board, they were entitled to their own bodyguard of lictors. For the first 10 years they were initiates, taught by the older priestesses. Then they became priestesses for a decade before taking on the mentoring duties of the initiates for the last 10 years of their service.

Training the Novices

"The School of the Vestal Virgins" 19th-century colorized engraving by L. Hector Leroux.

After lots were drawn from the list of young girls who could serve Vesta, initiates were brought to the Atrium Vestae, where their training would begin. The training was overseen by the chief priestess, the Vestalis Maxima, who came under the authority of the Pontifex Maximus. The first 10 years were spent training for their duties. They would spend the second decade actively administering rites, and the final 10 were spent training novices. The chastity of the priestesses was a reflection of the health of Rome itself. Although spilling a virgin’s blood to kill her was a sin, this did not preclude the infliction of harsh corporal punishment. First-century historian Plutarch writes: “If these Vestals commit any minor fault, they are punishable by the high-priest only, who scourges the offender.”

Public monies and donations to the order funded the cult and the priestesses. In Rome religion and government were tightly intertwined. The organization of the state closely mirrored that of the basic Roman institution: the family. The center of life of the Roman home, or domus, was the hearth, tended by the matriarch for the good of her family and husband. In the same way, the Vestals tended Vesta’s flame for the good of the state.

A silver denarius, also from the second century B.C., bears a representation of the circular Temple of Vesta.

Unlike other Roman women, Vestals enjoyed certain privileges: In addition to being able to own property and enjoying certain tax exemptions, Vestals were emancipated from their family’s patria potestas, patriarchal power. They could make their own wills and give evidence in a court of law without being obliged to swear an oath.

Thirty Years of Chastity

These rights came at a high price: 30 years of enforced chastity. Many historians believe that the health of the state was tied to the virtue of its women; because the Vestals’ purity was both highly visible and holy, penalties for a Vestal breaking her vow of chastity were draconian. As it was forbidden to shed a Vestal Virgin’s blood, the method of execution was immuration: being bricked up in a chamber and left to starve to death. Punishment for her sexual partner was just as brutal: death by whipping. Throughout Roman history, instances are cited of these grim sentences being passed.

Jealousy or malice made the women vulnerable to false accusations. One story, celebrated by several Roman writers, concerns the miracle of the Vestal Virgin Tuccia, who was falsely accused of being unchaste. According to tradition, Tuccia beseeched Vesta for help and miraculously proved her innocence by carrying a sieve full of water from the Tiber.

Allegations of crimes against the Vestals’ chastity sometimes went to the top of the social order. The flamboyantly eccentric, third-century emperor Elagabalus actually married a serving Vestal Virgin. It is a sign of the enduring symbolic importance of the cult that this heresy was one major factor that led to his deposal and murder.

The Vestal Tuccia, falsey accused of breaking her chastity vow, is saved by the intervention of Vesta, who enables her to carry water in a sieve from the Tiber back to the temple. 17th-century painting by Giovanni Battista Beinaschi.

Vestal Vestments

The ceremonial dress of Vestals highlights their dual, and somewhat contradictory, embodiment of both the maternal and the chaste. Physical appearance was an integral part of their role, making them stand out as different from other women, but also echoing physical traits of conventional women.

Dressed in white, the color of purity, the Vestal Virgins wore stola, long gowns worn by Roman matrons. Hair and headdresses played an important symbolic function. The Vestal hairstyle is described in Roman sources using an ancient Latin phrase, the seni crines. Historians cautiously agree it means “sixbraids,” and is mentioned as the coiffure of both Vestal Virgins and brides. A Vestal wore the suffibulum, a short, white cloth similar to a bride’s veil, kept in place with a brooch, the fibula. Around their heads they wore a headband, the infula, which was associated with Roman matrons.

Daily rites for Vestals were often centered around the temple. Most important was maintaining the holy fire. If the fire went out, the attending Vestals would be suspected not only of neglect but also of licentiousness, since it was believed impurity in a Vestal’s relations would cause a fire to go out. Other typical duties included the purification of the temple with water, which had to be drawn from a running stream. In readiness for the numerous festivals that required their attendance, the priestesses were required to bake salsa mola, a cake of meal and salt that was sprinkled on the horns of sacrificed animals. Important religious festivals included the Vestalia, dedicated to their goddess, Vesta, and the Lupercalia, which highlights the contradictory role of the Vestal Virgins, as it was closely associated with fertility.

A representation of a Vestal Virgin.

A Roman Tradition

A bust of Numa Pompilius from the Villa Albani Museum in Rome, believed to have been sculpted in the Roman Imperial Period.

Romans believed the cult of the Vestal Virgins was instituted under the eighth-century B.C. king Numa Pompilius, the successor of Rome’s founder, Romulus. First-century A.D. historian Plutarch wrote that Numa may have “considered the nature of fire to be pure and uncorrupted and so entrusted it to uncontaminated and undefiled bodies.“ Numa is credited by Livy, in his History of Rome, with formalizing other key Roman cults, including those of Jupiter and Mars. Many historians believe Numa was legendary, and that the worship of Vesta and other cults developed slowly out of pre-Roman customs, perhaps dating back to the older Etruscan culture that dominated Italy before the rise of Rome.

In the innermost part of their temple, the priestesses looked after their secret talismans. Among these objects was the sacred phallus, the fascinus, the representation of a minor god of the same name. The fascinus (the root of the word “fascinate”) is closely bound with magic and fertility. It was also in this part of the temple that they probably kept the palladium, the statue of Pallas Athena that the legendary founder of Rome, Aeneas, brought to Italy after the destruction of Troy, his home city—another aspect of the Vestal cult that tied Rome’s origins into an ennobling and ancient tradition.

Romans regarded these priestesses with a sense of awe. Plutarch points out “they were also keepers of other divine secrets, concealed from all but themselves.” It was believed they possessed magical powers: If anybody condemned to death saw a Vestal on his way to being executed, he was to be freed, so long as it could be proven the meeting was not by design. Vestals, it was said, could stop a runaway slave in his tracks.

The privileged position of the Vestal Virgins in Roman society survived for more than a thousand years, passing through Rome’s changing systems of monarchy, republic, and empire. The cult would not, however, survive Christianity. In A.D. 394 Theodosius closed the House of the Vestals forever, freeing the virgins from their obligations, but also removing their privileges.

VIEW OF THE VESTAThe ruins of the Atrium Vestae stand in the Roman Forum. The rectangular pools formed a part of the complex’s long, central patio. To the right of the Atrium are the remains of the Temple of Vesta, and behind the wall are the three remaining columns of the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

Even as their flame was extinguished, aspects of the cult may have passed into the new faith as it swept through the Mediterranean. Just as the position of the Pontifex Maximus lived on in the papal title “pontiff,” young women in the early years of Roman Christianity embraced virginity and celibacy in their desire to be “eunuchs for the love of heaven.” Scholars believe the role of the Christian nun was inspired, in part, by the chaste figures who dutifully tended the holy flame of Vesta.

By Elda Biggi.

26 notes · View notes