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My never ending loyalty- Commodus x Praetorian!reader, Final chapter

Male reader, preatorian’s guard love story with his emperor. Entering at his service when Commodus was facing Maximus. A bond that grew stronger over time but could it resist Rome? previous chapters: Chapter 1; Part 2; chapter 3 , chapter 4 , final chapter

Here is the final chapter! I apologize for taking so long. I suppose I pressured myself too much with this story to the point I was unable to work on it for months even though it's a story I adored at the start but I ended just wanting to finish it. I feel a bit bad for it, I tried to write the best final chapter for you all, and I hope you will enjoy it <3 who knows maybe an extra or HC about them can be written later if you want. Anyway, enjoy loves <3

I had been perhaps naive when I thought I would be the one to save Commodus from the darkness that inhabited him. But could I be blamed? Commodus wasn’t the man I had imagined, yet I still loved him, not just for his beauty but the fire in his eyes as he looked at the Senate, the passion in his voice as he spoke of his projects for the empire; his smile and laughter when we played gladiators together. He was a refreshing young Emperor, groundbreaking, ahead of his time, I found myself thinking. And I was honored to be by his side.

Our relationship, though remaining hidden, grew stronger each day. Most nights I managed to sleep in the Emperor’s room, either for a night of passionate love making or simply to fall asleep while chatting in each other’s arms. I felt blessed, my dreams had come true and I desired nothing else. Nothing else but serving the Emperor and love Commodus. Sometimes I even felt as if we had become a true family. The both of us taking care of Lucius as if he was our son.

I remember an afternoon we escaped the city walls, the three of us on horseback, the Roman countryside sprawling around us in a haze of summer green. Lucius, on a sturdy horse, rode ahead, his laughter echoing as he urged his mount into a gallop. Commodus and I followed at a slower pace, our powerful warhorses ambling side-by-side.

"Tell us a story, Uncle!" Lucius called back, reining his pony in to wait for us. Commodus smiled, a genuine, easy expression that I rarely saw in the palace.

"A story?" he mused, his gaze soft as he looked at the boy. "Very well. Let me tell you of Castor and Pollux. Twin brothers, one mortal, one divine, who shared a single heart between them."

As we rode, he wove the tale, his voice a rich, captivating baritone. He spoke of their adventures, of battles fought side-by-side, of a bond so strong that when the mortal Castor fell, the divine Pollux begged Jupiter to share his own immortality, unwilling to live without his brother. The god, moved by such devotion, granted his wish, placing them together in the heavens as the Gemini constellation. Lucius listened, enraptured, his eyes wide.

"So they are together forever?" he asked as we finally dismounted by a small stream, letting the horses drink.

"Together forever." Commodus confirmed, his hand resting on my saddle as he looked from the boy to me. His eyes held a silent, profound meaning that made my chest ache. We made a small fire, and as the sun began to dip below the hills, we ate bread and cheese, the juice of ripe peaches staining our fingers. There was no talk of Senate edicts or imperial decrees. There was only the crackle of the fire and the comfortable silence of shared contentment.

The boy had grown more peaceful in these months, seeing his uncle in better health by my side. The haunted look in his eyes had been replaced by the bright curiosity of a boy learning to trust again. In the warm glow of the fire, watching Commodus gently wipe a smear of juice from Lucius's cheek, I allowed myself to believe. He would make a great heir to Commodus one day. A ruler who knew both the strength of a sword and the wisdom of a myth, guided by the love of the two men who had shown him what family could be.

However, the first crack in my dream appeared. It was not with a shout or a decree, but with a whisper. It was a name, spoken by Commodus as we stood on the balcony overlooking the Forum, the evening air cool on our faces.

"Senator Aulus Fabius." he said, his voice casual, as if remarking on the weather. "He has been… overly critical of the new grain tax. He calls it 'tyranny dressed as charity'."

"He is a patrician, Commodus. His estates are vast, he can afford the tax. He is simply afraid of a Rome where he is not the sole master of his fortune." I replied as I turned from the view.

"Afraid?" Commodus mused, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "Or conspiring? I have heard things. Meetings at his villa, men who were loyal to my father. Men who saw Maximus as their true champion." He looked at me then, his eyes searching. "He is a weed, Y/N. In the garden of Rome. If we do not pull it out, it will choke the roses we are trying so hard to grow."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked as my stomach tightened. I felt this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

"I am suggesting we make an example." he said smoothly. "Not with death. No, that is too… final. We will simply… remind him of his place. Confiscate a third of his lands. Redistribute them to the veterans of the Praetorian Guard. The men who bled for us. It serves two purposes: it silences a critic and it rewards the loyalty that keeps us safe." He grinned at me proudly, his smile radiant.

"Is that fair, Commodus? To take a man's property on rumor alone?" I hesitated. It was a punishment without a trial. A seizure of property based on whispers. It was the kind of act I would have once condemned. He stepped closer, his hand finding mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

"Is it fair of him to use his wealth to sow dissent against an Emperor who feeds the people? Is it fair for him to plot our downfall while you and I stand here, trying to build a better world from the ashes my father left?" His voice was low, persuasive. "Justice is a luxury for the innocent, my love. We are dealing with men who are anything but. We are not being unjust. We are being pragmatic."

The word hung in the air: pragmatic. It sounded so reasonable, so necessary to protect the world Commodus was building. I looked into his eyes and saw not a tyrant's greed, but a leader's burden. I thought of the families the grain tax would feed. I thought of my guards, who deserved more than a meager pension for their service.

"Alright." I heard myself say, the word feeling foreign in my mouth. "Do it. But make it public. Frame it as a gift to the soldiers, not a punishment for the Senator. Let the people see the generosity, not the force." I advised. Commodus always seeked my counsel and now I gave it to him without waiting for permission. He smiled, a brilliant, triumphant smile. He leaned in and kissed me; I sighed against his lips, all resistance melting.

"See? You are the heart of my reign. You remind me of the man I must be." His words filled me with pride, I was keeping him in the light, bringing balance to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.

Weeks melted into months. We fell into a rhythm of power and passion. There were days of light, days when I felt we were truly making a difference. We commissioned a new aqueduct to bring fresh water to the poorer districts. Commodus, at my suggestion, oversaw its construction personally, wading into the mud with the engineers, his laughter echoing as children splashed in the newly-formed pools. On those days, he was the Emperor I had always dreamed of serving, and my love for him felt pure, untainted. But there were other days. Days of darkness that even I could not prevent.

A playwright had staged a comedy that mocked the Emperor's love for wrestling. It wasn't vicious, just bawdy, the kind of thing Romans had always enjoyed. But Commodus saw it as treason. He saw mockery in every line, betrayal in every laugh from the crowd. He had the man arrested. I found him in his chambers that night, pacing like a caged animal.

"They laugh at me!" he raged, his hands clenched into fists. "They think I am a fool, a gladiator playing at being Emperor!"

"He is a playwright, Commodus.” I said, keeping my voice even. "It is his craft to poke fun at those in power to entertain the masses. It means nothing. Ignore it, and the joke dies. Punish him, and you give his words weight."

"Weight?" he snarled, turning on me. "They already have weight! They are stones being thrown at my image! I will not be a figure of fun in my own city!" He grabbed my arm, his grip tight, desperate. "You don't see it, do you? You don't hear the whispers. They are testing me. Seeing how far they can push. If I let this go, they will keep pushing because they think me weak. And weakness my love, invites wolves." I saw the genuine fear in his eyes, the paranoia that was his constant companion. I saw a fragile boy beneath the purple robes. And that hurt to see him in such a state.

"Then what would you have me do?" I asked, my voice quiet. I couldn’t tell why I really complied. Perhaps I couldn’t bear to see him in such distress, perhaps if I supported him there he would feel reassured and would calm down. I would see my beautiful Achilles smile again.

"He needs to be reminded of the power of the state." he said, his voice calmer now, his hold on my arm loosening. "Not death. But… a public flogging. And his tongue. I want his tongue cut out. So he can never speak ill of me again." He listed, sounding boyish.

My blood ran cold. It was barbaric. It was the act of a monster. I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him he was crossing a line, that this would make him the very thing he claimed to be fighting against. But then I looked at his face. I saw the fragility there, the terror of abandonment. And I thought of the aqueduct. I thought of the fed families. I thought of the good we were doing. Was the soul of one mocking playwright a fair price to pay for the stability of an empire? Was my own moral comfort more important than his security?

"He has a family." I said, my last, weak attempt at a defense.

"Then they will learn to hold their tongues, as well." Commodus said coldly. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, my decision was made.

"I will see to it." I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I will make sure it is done quietly, without spectacle. It will be a matter of state security, not public entertainment. A mercy, of sorts." He looked at me, his relief palpable, complying with my suggestion. He pulled me into an embrace, his body trembling slightly against mine.

"Thank you..." he whispered into my hair. "Thank you for understanding. For protecting me."

I stood there, holding the man I loved, the man whose hands I had just stayed from committing a horrific act, a political wrong, by agreeing to commit it myself. And I felt nothing. No guilt, no shame. Only a profound, hollow sense of victory. I had protected him. I had done my duty.

That night, as he slept beside me, I stared at the ceiling. I thought of the playwright, whose voice would be silenced forever. And for the first time, I didn't feel pity. I felt only a cold, hard certainty. It was necessary. And I would do it again, a thousand times, if it meant keeping this man, this reign, this fragile, beautiful, terrible thing we had built, safe. I was no longer just his guard. I was the hand that held the dagger in the dark, while he slept, dreaming of a better Rome.

The silence in the wake of the playwright's punishment was heavier than any scream. I had carried out the sentence myself, not with my own hands, but with my authority. I stood in the courtyard as the flogging was administered, my face a mask of stoic indifference, my presence lending the brutal act the veneer of state necessity. I watched the man's back become a canvas of raw flesh, and then I watched as the soldier, with a quick, practiced motion, severed his tongue. The sound was a wet, final cough. The man collapsed, a mute, bleeding ruin. I didn't flinch. I told myself it was a mercy. I told myself it was for Rome. I told myself it was for my love.

That night, Commodus was serene. The anxiety that had clawed at him was gone, replaced by a calm, confident energy. He moved through his chambers with an easy grace, pouring us both wine, his touch light, affectionate.

"You did well today." he said, handing me a cup. "We are safe now." He beamed, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing against me.

"Anything for you, Commodus" I corrected, my voice low. I had always been obssessed with him and I realized I had no control over it.

"You are me." he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. His fingers traced the line of my jaw. "When you act, it is my will. When you speak, it is my reason. We are one mind, one heart, one… fist." He smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. "And now, we must show the Senate the strength of that fist."

He led me to a map of the Empire, spread across a polished mahogany table. "Egypt." he said, his finger tracing the long, fertile line of the Nile. "As you know, the grain basket of Rome. But the Prefect there, Gaius Tullius, is an old man. A relic of my father's administration. His reports are late, his tribute is… lacking. He whispers of drought, of bad harvests. But my sources tell me his granaries are full. He is hoarding, waiting for the price to rise, lining his own pockets while the people of Rome wonder if they will eat."

"What do you intend to do?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. He was going to go against the Senate.

"I intend to replace him." Commodus said, his eyes gleaming. "I have a man in mind. A young general from the legions in Germania. Brutal, efficient, utterly loyal. He will squeeze every last grain from that province and ensure not a single ship is delayed." Now, this was more than a punishment. It was a purge. Replacing a high-ranking official on the basis of rumor, installing a hardliner in his place.

"This will anger the Senate." I cautioned. "Tullius has many allies. They will see it as an overreach of your power."

"Let them." Commodus scoffed. "What can they do? Clutch their pearls and whisper in their halls? You control the only army that matters in this city. You command the gates. You are the gatekeeper to my person. They are nothing." He turned to me, his expression softening. "But I will not do it without you. I need your agreement, your strength. When I face them, I need to know you watch my back."

How could I refuse? He had framed it as a partnership, a shared burden. To say no would be to betray him, to weaken him in the face of his enemies. To say no would be to choose the hollow traditions of the Senate over the tangible reality of the man I loved.

"Do it." I said, my voice firm. "Replace Tullius. But send a legionary escort with your new man. Ensure the transition is peaceful. We do not want a rebellion in Egypt on top of a discontented Senate."

“Of course, I thought of it.” He beamed, his pride in me radiating from him. "Always worried my love." he murmured, kissing my forehead. "What would I do without you, my handsome praetorian?" He purred, his fingers tracing the muscles of my chest suggestively.

I took him that night. Again and again until I could no more. Until he was trembling, bearing my marks all over his body and his eyelids heavy. He held me tight, our legs entwinned , whispering fond words about a future golden empire and our rule as equals in front of all. What a beautiful dream. And how much I wanted it to become true.

Still, the question echoed in my mind in the weeks that followed. The transition in Egypt was not peaceful. The new Prefect, a man named Severus, arrived with a contingent of Praetorians under my command. Tullius refused to step down, citing his authority from the late Marcus Aurelius. It ended in a brief, bloody confrontation. Tullius was slain, his staff arrested, and Severus took control, his rule beginning not with diplomacy, but with the sword.

The news sent a shockwave through Rome. The Senate erupted in outrage. They convened an emergency session, demanding an audience with the Emperor. Commodus granted it, but on his terms. He would meet them at his own chosen time, and I would stand at his side.

I stood by the throne, my hand resting on the hilt of my gladius, my face an unreadable mask. The Senate, a sea of indignant white robes, filled the hall. Their leader, a man named Cassius Dio, stepped forward, his voice trembling with fury. "Emperor, you have murdered a loyal servant of the state! You have installed a butcher in his place! You have overstepped your authority and shamed the legacy of your father!" Commodus listened, his expression bored. When Dio was finished, he sighed, a long, theatrical sound.

"Loyal?" he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "He was starving my people to line his own pockets. He was a traitor to the crown. I removed him. As is my right."

"It is not your right to act without the consent of the Senate! Your late father would be ashamed!" Dio roared, supported by the cheers of half the Curia.

"You speak of my father." Commodus laughed, a cold, sharp sound that silenced the hall. He stood, and the room seemed to shrink around him. “You cling to his memory like a shield. But I am his heir, the son born in the purple. Favored by the gods, the only surviving male among my brothers. The gods chose me to save Rome for corruption.” he spoke with confidence, a light purr in his voice, his gaze meeting the eyes of each senator as if daring them to defy him. “I did what I had to do to protect my birthright. To protect Rome from his weakness and make it better. And any man here who thinks to challenge me, who thinks to avenge a man who would have sold this Empire to the highest bidder… will share the same fate." He turned his gaze on me, his eyes burning. "My Praetorian Prefect, the man who stands at my side, knows this. He was there. He knows the truth. And he stands with me. As do all loyal men of Rome."

He had made me an accomplice in the open to his tyranny. I could feel the weight of a hundred stares, the weight of their judgment. I could deny it. I could step away, condemn him, and save myself. Then, I looked at Commodus. He was looking at me fiercely, and afraid. He was daring me. Daring me to choose another side than his. Daring me to betray him, break his heart just like his sister did. His paranoia gnawing at him once again. I stepped forward, my hand leaving my sword and resting over my heart, a gesture of absolute loyalty.

"The Emperor speaks the truth." I said, my voice clear and steady, betraying none of the storm raging in my soul. "My spies reported corruption in Egypt, an attempt to provoke hunger in Rome, to raise the grain prices. The traitor wanted to create revolts. The Emperor saved us all.”

The hall was deathly silent. We were no longer an Emperor and his Praefecto Praetorio, we were rulers. Standing against the world. Commodus didn't look at the Senate. He looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw everything. Relief, adoration. And a terrifying, boundless love. And I had become the most powerful man in the Empire after Commodus. I saw the fear, the anger in the eyes of the Senators. And instead of feeling shame, I felt a need to show my power, to use that fear so I could keep us safe, forever.

As we walked from the hall, the whispers of the senators following us like the cries of ghosts, Commodus leaned close to me. "We suceeded. The Empire will shine brighter tomorrow." he whispered, a note of triumph in his voice. "Just us against the world. Achilles and Patroclus!"

"Yes." I whispered back, my heart clenching in my chest as I thought of their fate "Achilles and Patroclus..."

Time kept passing, and with it, my old self faded into a memory. The man who had once flinched at the thought of unjust punishment was gone, replaced by the man who saw the necessity in every cruelty. I believed in Commodus. I was blinded by love, yes, but it was a love forged in the crucible of power. I shared his dream, a vision of a unique Rome, a Colonia Commodiana, an eternal city forged in his image and protected by our will.

We made it real. The statues of old gods and forgotten senators were torn from their niches, their faces replaced with the serene, powerful likeness of Commodus. The months of the year were renamed, each one a tribute to his victories, his virtues and one received my name. He was no longer just an Emperor; he was the living soul of Rome. And I was his shadow, his fist, his beating heart.

I saw the admiration in the eyes of the people as we passed in the street, their cheers. He was a living god, their Hercules reborn. They loved him. We were safe. We were strong. And we were absolute.

One afternoon, we stood in the Imperial box overlooking the Colosseum. The games were a spectacle unlike any before, a celebration of our reign. The crowd roared, not just for the gladiators, but for us. Commodus, dressed in white and gold, turned to me, his face alight with a joy so pure it was almost divine. In front of thousands, under the blazing sun, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was not a chaste peck, but a deep, possessive kiss, a declaration to all of Rome. The crowd's roar swelled, becoming a deafening chant of his name. In that moment, there was no guard and no Emperor. There was only us, the masters of all we surveyed. He was feared. He was respected. And I was his.

That night, the celebrations continued in the palace. But as the wine flowed and the courtiers laughed, I saw the flicker of paranoia return to his eyes. He smiled, but his hands clenched into fists. He accepted their praise, but his gaze kept darting to the shadows in the corners of the room. He was a god surrounded by potential assassins, a king crowned with thorns. The weight of the world was always on his shoulders, and only I could see it.

"Let them have their empty revelry." he murmured to me, his voice low. "I need to feel clean. I need to feel you."

We left the hall, the sounds of the party fading behind us as we walked through the silent, torch-lit corridors to the imperial baths. The air grew warmer, the scent of wine and roasted meats giving way to the clean, steamy smell of heated stone and myrrh. This was our sanctuary. One where all worries left Commodus. Where he was just a man.

The water in the imperial baths was warm enough to turn the marble to silk, steam curling like ghosts around the columns and up into the vaulted ceiling, where painted gods stared down with indifferent eyes. I leaned my head back against the edge of the pool, the water lapping at my shoulders, and watched Commodus. He floated, weightless, his eyes closed, the lines of worry and command finally smoothed away into something resembling peace.

It had been a good day. A productive day. We had passed a new edict, one that increased the grain dole for the poor and levied a heavier tax on the wealthiest patrician families to pay for it. The Senate had grumbled, of course, their whispers like dry leaves skittering across the floor of the throne room, but they had acquiesced. They always did now. I had stood beside Commodus, a silent, armored presence, and watched their forced smiles. Then we had enjoyed the games, loved each other publicly, he had squeezed my hand as we cheer for the green charioteer. In that moment, he wasn't a tyrant; he was a reformer and a man of the people. And I, his steadfast partner, felt a surge of pride that drowned out the faint, lingering whispers of doubt.

"Stop thinking so loud." Commodus murmured, his eyes still closed. A small smile played on his lips. "I can feel you strategizing from over here."

"I was merely admiring the view." I replied, my voice a low rumble in the echoing chamber. And I was. The sight of him like this, unguarded, was a treasure I hoarded. The man who ruled an empire, who had ordered deaths with a flick of his wrist, now looked as harmless as a boy.

He opened his eyes, and they were the color of the sea at dusk, deep and turbulent but calm for now. He swam closer, the water parting before him. He stopped between my legs, his hands resting on my thighs, his touch familiar and electric. "The view is better from here."

He leaned in, and his kiss was slow and deep, tasting of wine and contentment. There was no desperation in it now, no frantic grasping for reassurance. This was the kiss of partners, of equals. It was a language we had perfected, a silent conversation of forgiveness and desire. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him flush against me, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against my chest.

"Did you see their faces?" he whispered against my lips, a gleam of the old fire in his eyes. "Gaius Valerius looked as if he'd swallowed a live frog."

"He'll survive..." I said, chuckling. "He will have to chew on more laurel leaves to swallow his pride.”

"You see? You understand them. You know just how little their suffering truly costs them!" Commodus laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that I cherished more than any victory. He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine. "And how much it helps those who truly need it. We are doing good, Y/N. We are."

"We are." I agreed, and the conviction in my voice surprised me. It was true. We were. The edicts were just. The roads were safe. The people were fed and entertaine. The Senate was cowed. Was it so wrong if a few ambitious men had to be removed to achieve that? Was it so wrong if the methods were… harsh? Was it so wrong to publicly love the Emperor. I pushed the thought away. In this warm water, with his hands on my skin, the world seemed simple. We were building a better Rome. Our Rome.

"I never could have done this without you." he confessed, his voice soft and his forehead against mine. "Before you, it was all… noise. The Senate, my father's ghost, the fear. You are the silence in the storm, Y/N. You are the only thing that makes sense. You made this life make sense."

"And you..." I whispered, my thumb stroking his wet back "are the reason for it all. All I do is because of you. Because I believe in you and I love you, Commodus." He replied. Months ago I would have believed two men like us couldn’t be such romantics. But we were.

We stayed like that for a long time, a tangled embrace in the steaming water, two men against the world. It was in these moments that I felt most certain. Most righteous. The blood, the fear, the compromises, they all faded away, leaving only the profound, unshakeable certainty that we were meant for this. To rule together. To love each other. To face whatever came, as one.

I should have known that peace, for men like us, was just our enemies gathering their strength before the final, cruel blow.

The doors to the baths, heavy bronze-studded oak, creaked open. I didn't think anything of it at first. Slaves came and went, bringing oils, more wine, fresh linens. I didn't even look up, too lost in the feel of Commodus's hands tracing the scars on my chest. But Commodus tensed. His head lifted, his body going rigid in my arms. I followed his gaze.

It wasn't a slave. It was Marius. One of my own. A man I had personally recruited from the legions, a young, fierce soldier I had trained myself, whose family I had seen fed during the harsh winter. He stood there, in the uniform of the Praetorian Guard. And in his hand, he held his gladius.

"Marius?" I said, my voice laced with confusion as I turned in the bath to face him "What is the meaning of this?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on Commodus, and they were filled with a cold, dead certainty. Behind him, the shadows in the hallway shifted, and more figures emerged. Other guards, my men. Their swords were drawn.

The air grew cold. The steam seemed to vanish, replaced by an icy, metallic chill. The scent of myrrh and wine was replaced by the sharp, coppery tang of imminent bloodshed.

"Marius." I called again, my voice harder now, a command. "Stand down. That is an order." He finally looked at me, and there was no remorse in his eyes. Only pity.

"I am sorry, Prefect." he said, his voice flat. "The Senate pays better. They gave me the opportunity. You refused their offer to be the next Emperor. So they offered to me and this is something I can’t refuse. Either you step away and you will survive or you will meet the same end as Commodus." Commodus began to laugh, a dry, brittle sound that was more terrifying than any scream.

"Of course." he breathed, his eyes wide with a mad, knowing light. "Of course. It always comes back to gold and power." He looked at me, and in his gaze, I saw not fear, but a profound, heartbreaking resignation. "They can't be bought, you said. They were loyal, you said." My blood ran cold. My life's work, my legacy of loyalty, was a lie.

“They are. I did all that was necessary!” I retorted, I had taken young promising men out of the gutter. Men who approved of Commodus politics, who wanted to be part of it. “Turns out that men of conviction can’t be found today. Only corruptible ones.” I spoke darkly, furious at them. I moved, jumping out of the bath. My instinct taking over. I stood in front Commodus behind me, my body a shield. I was naked, unarmed, but I was still the Praetorian Prefect.

"You will have to go through me." I snarled, my voice echoing in the vast chamber.

"As you wish, my lord." Marius only nodded, as if that was exactly what he had expected.

The first man lunged. I met him, my bare hands closing around his sword arm, twisting, hearing the bone snap with a sickening crack. I wrenched the blade from his grasp and drove it into his throat. But another was already there. And another. I was a whirlwind of desperate, brutal force. I fought for him. For us. For the future we had promised each other in this warm water. I took a slash across my ribs, a searing pain that barely registered. I drove my stolen sword into a belly, kicked another away. But I was one man against many.

I gasped as I felt a sharp, piercing agony in my back. I stumbled forward, my strength flooding out of me. I looked down and saw the tip of a blade protruding from my stomach. Marius. I fell to my knees, the sword clattering from my hand. The world began to tilt, the marble rushing up to meet me. I turned my head towards Commodus. Terrified, who would protect him? Who would look after Lucius?

He was no longer in the bath. He had had jumped out, his face a mask of such pure, unadulterated agony that it broke my heart more than the sword in my back. He looked from my failing body to the men who had betrayed me, and the mask of the Emperor, the god, the tyrant, shattered completely. All that was left was a man who had just lost his only reason to live.

"Y/N…" he whispered, his voice cracking. I tried to speak, to tell him I loved him, to tell him to run, but all that came was a gurgle of blood.

Commodus roared, the sound of a wounded, grieving animal. He launched himself at them, unarmed, naked, fueled by nothing but rage and pain. He tore the sword from the hands of the nearest guard, a man who looked too surprised to resist, and he began to swing.

He was a blur of divine fury. He was Hercules in the flesh or Achilles avenging his fallen Patroclus. He cut down Marius, then another guard, his movements impossibly fast, his face a terrible, beautiful thing to behold. But he was still one man. And they were many.

I watched, my vision blurring, as they surrounded him. A sword entered his side. Another guard locking his arm around his throat to choke him to death. Commodus struggled all he could, but his adversary was stronger. His eyes found mine across the fog of the baths. He fell to his knees, just as I had, his strength gone. He reached for me with tears in his eyes, his fingers stretching out, just inches from my own. Then he collapsed, all air crushed out of his lungs, his body hitting the ground heavily.

The last thing I saw, as darkness took me, was his hand brushing against mine, his lifeless eyes locked onto mine and our blood, mingling together in the warm water of our bath, our haven and our tomb.

We had died together, trying to protect what we had built. Our bodies would probably be discarded like trash and burned. Perhaps thrown in the Tiber or perhaps sealed in an amphora in the Columbarium with the past Emperors. It didn’t matter to me. The only thing that comforted me is that our ashes mingled together for eternity. We had become one...

Light blinded my eyes, I used my hand to cover them. I felt wind on my face, neither cold or warm. I smelled the sea, it reminded me of Commodus villa by the sea.

“You have taken your time, soldier.” a voice all too familiar called me. I gasped, freeing my eyes to look for the source. I was in a meadow by the sea and in front of me stood Commodus. Peaceful, smiling, wearing a simple white tunic. I laughed in joy, running to him, wrapping my arms around him; this was Elysium. Now we would be together for eternity, safe and free to love without having to choose. And that night, two stars of the same constellation shone brighter than ever.

The end

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