Fan Blog for Emperor Commodus from the film "Gladiator" Mainly aesthetic, but also welcome to chat (May include NSFW, 18+ material) Primary blog: @five-miles-over
Gladiator one is amazing in a way I mean. Don'tvreally like how I can know the whole damn plot by the first 12 minutes in but eh...it's beautifuI really like the villain. Commodus.He was written as a pretty much one dimential character. Evil without reason. Then Joaquin performs his magic,and he became one of the most well down,studied and talked about villain.I have this need to write an ocxcanon fic about him so bad.
A Gladiator edit I created for the vulnerable Commodus lovers. You know who you are.
I have never seen a creature more pitiful than him. He drinks power like saltwater, all because he cannot swim.
[…]
Good boy, you're working exactly as intended. Has the penny dropped? You′re never gonna get it. Unrewarded for all of your defending from your loneliness epidemic.
The only poison I would swallow with greed, down to the last drop... and the bitter taste would feel like the sweetest honey, in all of Rome, on my tongue.
₊˚⊹♡ tensions rise within your marriage and boil over.
₊˚⊹ emperor commodus x fem!reader
₊˚⊹ masterlist.
₊˚⊹ 4.2k words.
The day was uniquely hot in comparison to the last few weeks. A dome of heat had settled over Rome and refused to leave. The sweltering day was nearly killer and many of the common people had flocked to bodies of water in an attempt to cool down. Heat has often been an enemy when it came to breaking the physical body down, but scarce was it ever talked about how heat can break a person down mentally.
You were not blind to the strain that had come between you and your husband Commodus. Your courtship had been a fantasy, like a tale your mother would tell you when you went to bed as a child. He showered you with attention and gifts. Yet, only shortly after you married had come the death of his father. After his ascension, his time was filled with duties and obligations.
It was not as though you were asking for his constant attention; only a conversation that did not involve proceedings in the Senate or trade relations.
The day had been spent planning. An upcoming month-long gladiatorial celebration was only two weeks away. The start would be a grand celebration at the palace with all the top generals and their families, along with those of wealthy and prominent families. As Empress, it was your duty to organize the event. You had been working on it for a while, but as it loomed closer, you began to question your choices.
There was no childhood preparation to become Empress. It never even crossed your mind growing up. You felt inadequate in the position.
As your doubts grew, the desire for your husband's company increased. You craved his reassurance. In those days before he became emperor, Commodus would listen to your worries as you would to his. The both of you had learned to lean on one another.
That was what led you to his office on that hot day where the air smothered everything. You had already reached your limits at that point and wanted nothing more than the Commodus’ comforting presence.
Walking into his workroom, you saw the expanding space full of shelves containing various records and high-valued items. In the centre of the room was his grand desk, carved from the same marble that made up a large portion of the palace. Commodus was pouring over work. One hand gripped a stylus to scratch more words into a wax tablet, but his face was scrunched with frustration. The heat had been affecting the wax tablets you had been using all day and you knew they were faulty with him as well.
You stepped up to the desk and stood in front of it, but he did not raise his head. He continued to work diligently. You coughed lightly to try and get his attention, but Commodus made no move of acknowledgment. You could see the tension in his shoulders and the way he moved.
“Darling?” You spoke. Commodus looked up briefly to spot you but quickly went back to his work. The lack of acknowledgement was something you were encountering increasingly more as of late and it would always send a jolt of pain to your heart.
“What is it?” He questioned while he shuffled some items on his desk.
“There are some decisions about the upcoming festivities that I was hoping you would approve of.” You answered. He glanced up briefly, eyes flickering over your face, before going back to staring at the tablet in front of him. The heat had left you uncomfortable the whole day, but something about this interaction disturbed you more.
Left with no response, you continued, “The guest list has been finalized, but there are certain families that may need an exception to attend and–”
“I trust you can make the sound decision,” Commodus’ tone was almost dismissive. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from saying anything brash.
“Yes, well, there is the matter of decor–”
“As I said, the decisions are up to you.” He glanced over a report from a senator, cursing under his breath at whatever was written before proceeding to use the stylus to erase what was written while muttering lowly, “Have to do everything myself.”
You glanced around the room, wondering why you had even tried to speak to him. Your husband was not your husband and had not been since his ascension. If you blinked, you could envision for a brief moment the way his warmth used to envelop you or the feeling of his delicate touch. You two had not even kissed one another in what felt like a lifetime.
Commodus was still here, but it felt like he had died with his father, leaving behind a husk of a person you do not recognize.
“I hoped for your opinion on this,” You then lowered your voice, “If you could even bother to look at me.” He made no hint of having heard your words but resumed his work. You stood there as he continued his duties, waiting for a sign, for anything that showed that your husband was still in that body sitting in front of you.
Another few minutes passed of him muttering frustratingly under his breath before you spoke again, “Commodus?”
“Enough!” He yelled while he threw down his stylus, “Can you not see that I am busy? Can you possibly not see I have more important work to do than frivolous womanly things?”
You sucked in a breath as the two of you stared at one another. It was only then that you realized that this was the longest he had held eye contact with you in many weeks, and it was only to yell. Tears pooled in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You would not grace him with your sadness. Your face became neutral and your shoulders became stiff as your body went rigid. If he shows you indifference, you will as well.
“Apologies, Caesar, I shall not bother you with frivolous womanly things anymore.” It was the first time you had addressed him with the title other than on some occasions inside the bedroom – of which it was not used appropriately. Commodus sensed your shift and for a brief moment, you could see his real self flash across his eyes.
You bowed respectfully before calmly leaving the room. Your head was held high, but as soon as you knew you were out of sight, the tears escaped your eyes. Your legs carried you onwards as you silently cried.
This whole palace was suffocating, your marriage even more so. What hurt the most was that you still loved him, you would always love him, but you could not help but wonder if he still loved you.
As you made your way to your room, an idea formed in your head. You could see the vision of the beach in your mind. The villa with which you went on your honeymoon had laid dormant, only ever used for leisure – which you had not had since becoming Empress. For once, maybe you could simply get away from this damned city.
Commodus stalked through the halls later that night. His mind had been reeling the rest of the day. He could barely continue with his work without thinking of you, without the image of your broken face flashing through his mind.
He ran his hands over his face and sighed loudly as he entered your shared chambers to go to sleep. The routine was carefully practiced and his muscles worked through the movements of getting ready for bed and changing his clothes. It was when he walked up the steps to the raised bed that he felt why the air was so odd.
You were not in bed sleeping.
Normally, he left his duties so late in the day that by the time he got to the room you were long asleep. However, your side remained untouched. He stood there for a moment, staring down and wondering where you were. Commodus shifted the covers and got in, adjusting himself until he was comfortable and closed his eyes.
You were likely busy with all the planning coming to head as the festival neared, he reasoned. Before long, due to the constant exhaustion, Commodus fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, as the rising sun peeked through the silk curtains and a warm breeze stifled the room, Commodus woke up and stretched. Instinctively, his arm reached out to feel your body, but only hit the cold sheets. His eyes opened and saw that you were not in bed. The coolness indicated you had been gone for long.
In the early mornings, he relished the silence. You would still be asleep and it was the only opportunity when he could hold you before leaving to attend his duties before you woke. Mornings were the only time he had a brief moment of respite, where he could bask in your presence before he had to work. There was a pit in his stomach, but he chose to ignore it and got out of bed.
Later, as he sat down at his desk to finish up some work before leaving for a senate hearing, he called out to one of the servants. The night was spent mulling in his dreams and he knew he had to apologise to you. He missed how things were before he became Emperor.
“Arrange for a lunch to be held in the gardens. Send a message to my wife that I wish to eat our midday meal together.” He sat down in his seat to begin work. Yet, the servant remained standing at the doorway.
“Caesar, the Empress left yesterday.”
Commodus immediately stopped his movements and looked up at the servant, “Left?”
The servant got nervous at the changing demeanour of his emperor, “The Empress left last night for the villa in Ostia, Caesar. There is no word on a date of return.”
Commodus could feel his jaw lock at the servant's words. He leaned back in his chair as anger came through him. He was overwhelmed at the thought that you would leave him. Now, of all times, with the grand festival coming up. He dismissed the servant with a wave of his hand before resting his chin on it.
The frustration that had been building for weeks, the pain of his work, reached a boiling point. He picked up a parchment weight on his table and threw it at the wall across the room. The glass shattered, creating a cascade of sound as the shards hit the marble flooring.
He was angry at himself, yet his mind was too clouded to recognize it. He felt he was failing his duties as emperor, but nothing hurt more than the recognition that he was failing as a husband. The vows he swore were nothing but words in the wind. The honour he cultivated in his lifetime was tainted by his inability to balance his duties and his marriage.
Commodus twisted his thoughts around. You had left him when he needed you; when he was going to apologize. It was like his childish self came out again and he became angry with you, despite knowing deep down those negative feelings were towards himself.
He decided then that if you wanted to play a game of ignoring one another, he could play too. His pride and self-serving nature had always been his downfall, but it was so easy to slip back into his old habits.
Commodus would not seek you out, but wait for you to seek him out.
You walked down the halls of the villa one afternoon, content with the work you had done that morning. It had been a week since your departure from the palace and it felt like you could finally breathe. The distance you put between you and Rome calmed your nerves. Here, away from courtly gossip, you could finally relax and refocus on your duties. You had become more productive and found yourself having free time at the end of the day.
In the time between work, you had given more thought to your marriage. The fresh sea air and cool breeze gave clarity that had been hindered by the stifling heat and chaos of Rome. Your thoughts towards your husband were mixed and buried with confusion. You were conflicted.
Your heart ached for him, missing his presence, but you also acknowledged that being away in Ostia did not feel like much of a difference from when you were back at the palace. Either way, there had been a distance between you two; only now it was more physical.
When you courted, he had not been emperor. He was simply a prince with far too much time on his hands. You should have known that his dedication and commitment would waver once he rose to his position, but you naively thought it would be the way things had been for the rest of your shared lives.
You knew he loved you, but had his pride changed that?
Your thoughts on your marriage went back and forth. You thought back to a recent event in Rome, where a distant old friend filed for separation from her husband. There was no possible way you wished to do that. You swore an oath to the man you love and while he has changed, there was no change in your heart – despite the nagging pain you felt at his growing indifference. But, you wanted to help your friend now that you had more free time.
A servant was walking down the wall with old sheets from your bedroom in their hands that needed to be washed when you flagged them down.
“Could you fetch me a copy of the Twelve Tables and,” You looked around the hall and lowered your voice, “anything relating to topics such as marriage and annulment…”
The servant's eyes went wide at your request but nodded fervently and quickly made their way to set about the task. You released a breath. You were only curious, especially since your old friend was still going through the proceedings. Perhaps, after reading these texts, you may be able to help her.
Commodus was in agony. At least, what he could perceive as terrible pain. The day after you left he swore he would wait for you to come to him, but he immediately wished to abandon that plan. It was stupid, born from his childish anger. Yet, he did not go to you. The immediate loss of his anger was replaced by shame and disappointment in himself.
How could he even grace your presence when he had been such a horrible husband? How could he look you in the eye and beg for forgiveness when he did not think himself worthy of it?
He spent his days working. The nights he could hardly find sleep. Commodus would get in bed and try to sleep, but the lack of your familiar and calming presence would keep him up. That was when he would wander the halls of the palace until near-morning. There were moments when he swore he saw you, your back facing him as you turned down another hallway. He would run, nearly sliding across the marble to catch you but would always be greeted by an empty hallway.
Despite the incessant heat, the palace felt cold without you.
One thing he had done was keep tabs on what you did. He would receive a message on your daily activities and all that you had accomplished. To Commodus, this felt like he was there with you. On this day, as he sat at his desk and stared down at foreign treaties, the messenger arrived. He waved his hand to signal for the man to start talking.
“The Empress has finalized all of the plans for the festivities. She took the rest of the day off, Caesar, but it may be troubling… Your wife has requested certain texts to read.” The man spoke.
Commodus started scratching some words down onto a wax tablet, “That is not troubling. My wife always reads, even for leisure.”
“They are texts on family law, Caesar. Specifically divorce…” The servant's voice trailed off. The stylus Commodus was using snapped in his hand. His head shot up instantly.
“What?” He stood up from his chair, the legs scraping against the flooring and creating an unsavoury sound.
The servant began to shake under the rage-filled gaze of his emperor, “The Empress has requested–”
“I heard you the first time!” Commodus exploded. He immediately stopped and took multiple deep breaths to calm himself, “Have an escort ready in ten minutes. I leave for Ostia.”
There was always something enchanting about the setting sun. It was a soft blaze that emanated hues of red, orange, and pink. The colours met like friends in the sky, painting the clouds in their light. The same colours reflected off of the rippling water as you sat on the thick sands of the beach. You watched the sun as it hung low in the sky and displayed warmth as it showed one final moment of love before it disappeared for the night.
You came here each evening and got lost in the swirls of colours. It was the only moment when you could think of anything other than the festival or Commodus. Here, you did not exist. You acted as a means simply to watch the beautiful creation made by the gods that was born from chaos.
A cool breeze passed over your face and you closed your eyes. The peaceful moment changed, however, when you heard the sound of footsteps making impressions in the sand. You glanced to your right where they were approaching and saw Commodus making his way to you. You turned back to the water.
He reached you and sat down, leaving enough distance to not anger you, yet still made you ache for him to be closer. You did not speak as you did not know what would happen if you did; whether you would wish to fall into his arms or curse him out.
Commodus was silent for a few moments and looked out at the sunset with you. Eventually, he shifted and brought his knees up to his chest to rest his arms on his knees.
“It looks like the sunset on the day we met,” His voice was soft with the power of nostalgia, “I remember the celebration at your father’s house. It became so stifling that I needed a break. You were there on that balcony alone with nothing but the sunset gracing your skin. It appeared as though the sky was reaching out to you like the Gods were vying for your attention.”
His words touched you greatly. They were more than what you wanted. That was all you needed; communication. The gentleness he used to display for you, the attention he gave you. What you missed the most was when he would come to you with his problems and talk about them. That was what it meant to be in a marriage – to work as one, not as fractured pieces.
You stayed silent, but he continued, “Even then, you were not afraid to speak your mind. The only person other than my father that would speak to me directly. We spoke of practically everything. I could not fathom the thought of leaving your presence afterwards. Your warmth…” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Commodus as he turned to look at you.
“I knew then that I had fallen in love with you. I understood why the Gods would fight for you.” You almost wanted to cry at his words. It was as if he had returned to you, the old Commodus.
However, you could not let him get away with swaying you with sweet words. You were not a person easily taken by honeyed sentiments.
“It is not possible to fall in love in only a few hours.” Your voice was curt as you watched the orange and pink hues ahead of you.
“I didn’t think that as well until I met you.” He spoke.
This damn man and his words…
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You responded.
“I know,” He voiced, “The entire week was agony without you. And while that suffering hurt I realized that it was the same feelings you have experienced since I became emperor. I was physically there but gone in every other sense of the word. In every way you needed me.” Commodus moved so that he was on his knees next to you as he sat back on his feet.
“I have failed in my duties as a husband. There may not be anything I can say other than I am sorry but words are not enough. Please, my love, let me show you how much I mean it. I only ask that you do not resort to a separation yet. Give me some time and then make that decision.” Commodus was practically begging, something which you had never seen before. Yes, he acted sweet with you in private, but his outer exterior was always cold to others. He had to put on that face to be taken seriously as emperor. Now, he was begging to be taken seriously as a man.
“Separation? Why would I do that?” You finally turned to him and saw the redness that rimmed his eyes. There was a desperate look on his face that you did not wish to ever see again, it pained your heart too much.
“I know that you requested texts on divorce.” His voice cracked only slightly, but it was enough to break you down completely. You then understood that he truly thought you wanted to have your marriage ended.
“Oh, Commodus…” You sighed. Your hand reached out to cup his face. The moment your skin brushed his, his eyes fluttered close and leaned into your touch as a single tear escaped one of his eyes. Your thumb brushed the salty water away.
“The agony you speak of during our separation is something familiar to me. And you were right in saying I have felt it too, but for longer. But darling,” You cupped both of his cheeks, staring directly into his eyes that were lit up by the light of the setting sun, “I would never leave you. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not any other date. I requested those books because a friend is going through a separation. I only wished to help her.”
Commodus let out a strangled breath of relief. His hands reached up to cup yours that cradled his face. Though, a look of burdened curiosity came over his features.
“But you had entertained the idea?” His voice was soft, broken. You lowered your hands from his skin but continued to hold his hands to provide comfort.
“I will not lie to you. It crossed my mind for a brief moment,” You saw his expression fall but continued, “And I felt like it killed me. No matter how much you hurt me, leaving would be a betrayal to my very heart.”
“I have failed my duties to you. I will be a better husband and I will earn forgiveness.” He promised you, his voice strong.
You held up his hand and kissed the back of it, missing the feeling of his skin on your lips, “I do not want an apology. I only wish that you speak to me. That we communicate as a husband and wife first and emperor and empress second.”
He nodded vehemently, “Always, my love, always.”
As if you could not stand a single width of distance any longer, you moved next to him. You wanted to rest your head on his shoulder, but Commodus shifted so that his legs captured you and you leaned back against his chest. His arms wrapped around your front, holding you close as he buried his head in your hair, nose brushing your temple as he left gentle kisses there.
Staring out at the sunset, you could finally see what Commodus had been talking about. The hues were so familiar to that night on the balcony when you turned and saw him for the first time. It was like a shift in your worldview. He had been dressed in ceremonial armour that shined in the low light. His eyes, brighter than any others, never left you that whole evening. You had been quickly enchanted.
“Do you view every sunset as the same one from that night?” You asked.
“Every evening when I look at the sky, all I can see is you.” It was exceedingly comforting to have your husband back. The feeling of his warmth, protecting you from the sea breeze, was something you wished to cling to for eternity.
You leaned back and looked up at him to place kisses down his jaw. He hummed with content and his hold became more firm.
“Do you ever consider writing poetry?” You asked. Commodus always had a way with words that would easily cause you to melt.
He laughed and looked down at you, “My words are only for you.” His answer was succinct, yet held a million promises in them.
There, the two of you sat in the sand and listened to the waves hit the shore. You watched your husband, seeing the man you had first met come back once again.
In the blue-green hues of his eyes, you could see the sun lowering in their reflection.
This idea came to me while staring at the sunset. Go outside every once in a while, and then you can hallucinate scenarios with men that are beyond your reach.
