Lucius finds himself becoming emperor when all he wanted to do was liberate Rome into a free republic. Things get in the way and become more complicated when you get involved.
I intended this to be a two parter but I didnt feel like i want to lose the momentum so here's 6k words not proofread, we die like Macrinus. Also this is quite dialogue-driven, I'm still crawling back to writing after being gone for a year uwu
Warnings: Arranged marriage, drinking, cheating allegations, mild brat behavior from you, allusions to sex but not explicit, people (not Lucius) being an ass to you, childbirth, mention of rot, mention of an angry mob eating the rich, a sick child, ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING
The sun is high over Rome. The imperial building gleams proudly as the gods grace another day for its citizens. Inside, Lucius Verus Aurelius finds himself among the senators all yelling over each other, some agreeing to his proposition of turning Rome into a republic, the other faction wanting to crown him as emperor and remain as an empire, mostly for personal gain.
Agrippa, your father and one of the senators, assumes the position of first consul as soon as the people of Rome cheer Lucius's name. You watch him from the window of the grand palace as he passionately urges the senate to remain as an empire while the former gladiator sits on his humble seat, quietly observing each one of them.
"Your majesty, if I may propose an offer..." Agrippa addresses the gladiator, effectively silencing the rest of the senate. He continues.
"We can agree to a republic..." a faction of the senate groans. "If you will become an emperor first, guide us on how it should be, in order to serve Rome and its people." The consul's eyes gleam with hope as the former gladiator considers this offer.
"A year or two. We may be old men but we can be taught..." He continues, jesting at his own expense. You wonder what he is planning. "After so, we'll send you off peacefully. Did you want a farm villa? We can give you that. We can bring peace not only to you but to all of Rome, once and for all."
This seems to appease the senate, waiting for Lucius' answer.
"One year. We will liberate the cities, reduce the tax, and focus our efforts on infrastructure, rather than the militia." The former gladiator declares. You watch him agree to your father's deal and hope he is smart enough to escape whatever your father was planning.
And hence the gladiator is crowned Emperor. His distaste for lavish parties and revelries dampen the celebration. You watched him in his robes, and the golden crown of laurels upon his head. He seemed uneasy.
"Congratulations, Caesar. The gods have blessed Rome with you." You approached him after your father had urged you to say something. His eyes shift to you briefly, oceans and specks of gold within them, dancing under the firelight.
"Agrippina." He addresses you with the name derived from your father's. "Is it fortune or desperation?" He sighs, putting his cup down, seemingly disinterested with you.
"Perhaps both?" You smile and move closer, quietly wanting more of his attention. He chuckles and finishes his drink before standing up, leaving for his quarters. This stuns you. Men usually throw themselves at your feet, stumbling on their words, trying to give a compliment. This man, this new Caesar however, is itching to get to work, having no time for celebrations or women or drinking. You have heard from your father that he is preparing to leave for the southern territories, crossing the sea to liberate what General Acacius worked so hard for to please the previous emperors.
The night the emperor left, you were summoned late at night in your father's chamber. He explains he plans to marry you off to Lucius.
"A gladiator, father?" You stand there, hands on your hips.
The consul pours himself some wine, calmly answers "An emperor."
You scoff at his idea and correct him. "A temporary emperor."
Agrippa raises an eyebrow and sips his drink. "Only if he remains foolish enough to think he can leave."
You exhale, trying to calm your breathing as you realize the truth. They won't let him go. "You have spent my entire life turning me into the perfect pawn. And now, I am to be thrown at a man who despises the very world I was raised for?"
Agrippa, finally looking at you directly, his voice smooth and measured. "You misunderstand, my dear. This is not your endgame. This is only your first move."
You stiffen. Your father steps forward, resting a hand on your shoulder.
Agrippa, softly, almost indulgently speaks to the pawn he raised. "Lucius wants a republic. That makes him predictable. And predictability makes him easy to control."
You swallow hard, staring at the floor.
The wise and scheming consul tilts your chin up with a finger and smiles like a wolf. "You will be his wife. You will be his empress. And in time, when he tires of politics—when he sees how ungrateful Rome is—you will ensure he remains exactly where he belongs."
You whisper, realizing what is being asked of you. "On the throne."
The consul squeezes your shoulder, pleased with you for the first time in years.
"That’s my girl."
When Lucius returns, he scoffs when he is summoned by the consul.
"Hail Caesar! The gods bless you with wisdom and courage. The people speak of your strength! And the senate praises you for your discipline."
Agrippa pours him a drink, acting like they are equals. Lucius is exasperated at this ass-kissing.
"Get to the point, Agrippa. Why have you summoned me?"
Ah, yes! Well you see, there are rumours..." He begins.
"There are always rumours."
"B-but this is grave, your highness! They speak of us being weak and unstable. Rome needs stability, not just a warrior on the throne." The consul offers a friendly smile. Lucius was about to say something but Agrippa continued in a tone filled with mock-lamentation.
"A warrior without a family is a dangerous thing... The people talk, the foreign envoys note the absence of a wife. Why does Rome have an emperor without an empress? With no heir? If you do not do something-"
Lucius' jaw tightens. They dare give the emperor an ultimatum? "They can say whatever they want, Consul. I have no interest in ruling beyond my term. Consider your words carefully. You are speaking to Rome."
The consul hides his fear well, his smile unwavering. "And yet Rome is not ready to be abandoned." He slides a cup towards Lucius.
"Caesar, if you do not secure your position, others will. You are the best we have towards a republic, we can not afford to lose you."
Lucius' face remains impassive. Agrippa doubles down. "Do you truly think a year will end peacefully? That you can just walk away? No. You will need your allies. You need the image of permanence. A wife. A noblewoman, trained, prepared to carry out her duty to Rome to silence those who doubt."
Lucius smirks at this man's audacity, knowing exactly who he will put forward. "You're talking about your daughter, I see. What if I refuse?"
Agrippa's smile morphs into a dangerous smirk. "Then you will rule alone without the support of the senate. Without the nobility. Without legitimacy. And when the senate decides that your time is up, who will protect you then? Your friends from the arena? You've sent them all home, Hanno."
Lucius stews in anger, deciding whether slashing this man's throat will do any good. The consul continues, knowing he's won. "She is intelligent, well-bred, loyal to Rome. She has the blood of Caesar from her mother's side, you will find no better match."
The stress of the wedding preparations catches up on you. The dress was not how you wanted it, sending it back to the seamstresses for the third time. Lucius wanted no part in the preparations, leaving the decision-making all to yourself, with the pressures of your family. A servant brings you your cup as you go over the flower arrangements. When the liquid touches your tongue, you hurl the goblet aside, clanging against the marble floor and startling the florists.
"Are you simple?! I said the wine must be from my father's private reserve, not this rubbish!" You yell. The servant trembles and apologizes profusely.
Lucius walks in, secretly watching the scene.
"Pick it up." He commands. Shame and humiliation take over her expression. Lucius repeats. "Pick. Up. The cup."
You hesitantly bend down, picking up the cup as Lucius dismisses everyone out of the hall.
"I have seen the treasury report. You are spending too much." He begins, his tone unreadable.
"It is an emperor's wedding-" You begin.
"I am reminding you that you are to be my wife. try to act like you are more than a spoiled girl playing empress." He remains calm and leaves you alone in the hall, letting you wallow in shame.
The wedding was a grand affair. Your aunts had spun a romantic tale of how you two had secretly met during his arena battles, how you had been his inspiration in making Rome a better place. And a better place it has been in the past eight months. The rich are taxed more, the poor are provided for. No more wars, no more slave trade, no more gladiator fights. Instead, the arts have flourished, making way for these outlandish tales, making you sound extremely likeable as an empress.
The wedding night was uneventful. Lucius had to leave at first light to finish some tasks and preferred to have a full night's sleep rather than do anything else, much to your relief.
While the emperor is away, your father reminds you of your duty, to make sure the idea of the republic never arises again. In exchange, you are showered with exquisite silks from the east, perfumes from Egypt, and pearls enough to drown a grown man. Your father hands you a parchment, a script of what you should say when you make appearances, further solidifying the empire and setting back your husband's mission.
When Lucius returns, he sees there are beggars on the streets again. He sees some of the militia coming home with pillaged goods from various cities while he is liberating another.
"You made an oath, you swore you would stand with me. That was a lie." Lucius marches in the study where you were going over the speeches your father had made. You didn't know he'd be back today.
"I am only doing what's best for Rome!" You defend, your voice matching his.
"Your Rome. Your father's Rome. What is this?" He grabs the documents on your desk, reading the imperialist speeches.
"I... I do not have the luxury of ignoring him..." You refuse to meet his gaze.
Lucius drops the papers and harshly pulls out a chair to sit on. This causes you to flinch and step back, fearing this man could have your father's temper, or worse. Lucius notices. He has always been observant.
"I... I would never-" He begins, keeping his voice soft.
"I know that!" you lie and keep your defensive stance, not believing his words.
Your husband stews on it for a while. "Your father, has he hit you?"
You stay silent, collecting the papers.
Lucius realizes that you are not his enemy, but a victim and a prisoner.
You and your husband make an entrance at the senate hall. Lucius pulls out a seat for you next to him. The consul begins his praise but is interrupted.
"I have heard you were moving the militia without my approval."
"R-Rome needs stability, not hesitation." Your father grins.
"This is not stability, this is control." Lucius shuts him down. Your husband's intellect never fails to amaze you.
"Then let us speak of stability. Rome needs an heir." Agrippa smiles, never glancing at you. Your stomach drops when you comprehend his words.
"Indeed! A proof of consummation must be public knowledge. The people demand assurance." Another senator adds. You try to keep your eyes straight, staring a hole into the pillar. You were scared at what Lucius would say. He is also just a man after all, having his needs, wanting pleasure from the woman who's expected to provide it. You may have shared a few nights in the same quarters, and he has been completely respectful so far. If he wanted to force an heir upon you, who would stop him? Was he showing patience? Restraint? Or was it just a matter of time?
The senate continues to make crude remarks about you, as if you weren't a person.
"Any man who speaks of my wife like this again will answer to me." Lucius declares, silencing them. You exhale, slightly out of relief. Lucius may not be an enemy, but he is yet to prove himself to be your ally.
The emperor is called up here and there later in the day, various meetings with various people, leaving you to run the household. Your father confidently marches inside your house, grabbing you by the back of your head.
"Tonight, you lay with him, do you understand?" The consul hisses, gripping her like how he normally would ever since you were a child.
You don't flinch but your stomach churns. You dare to ask, just to be difficult. "And if he doesn't want me?"
Your father's fingers tighten painfully. "Then make him want you. I'm sure that won't be difficult."
Later that night, your maids scrub your skin raw, painting you in expensive perfume and lace you in scandalous fabrics meant to entice. You attempt to fight back your panic attack when you hear your husband open the door.
Lucius stops when he sees you. Your gaze was locked into your hands, folded neatly on your lap where the edge of your dress ends.
"What is this?" He asks, more tired than angry. You couldn't find your voice.
Lucius sighs. You fear you have angered him.
"I won't touch you if you don't want me to. You don't owe them proof of anything." He picks up a robe of his and puts it within your reach, averting his gaze from your scandalous attire.
Somehow, your last shred of dignity finds insult in his disinterest. Nonetheless, you were grateful.
"I've never known anything that was mine." you hold the robe over yourself, thankful for the warmth.
"The world is yours, my empress. Take your time. You don't have to decide tonight." His voice comforts you like warm milk before bedtime. The dim candles cast shadows on his face, making you unsure if he smiled at you or was it a trick of your imagination. Also, what did he just call you?
"Do you want me to leave?" He asks.
"Please stay..." Your emotions break like the first rain after a long summer.
Lucius remains respectful as he moves closer, eventually sitting on his side of the bed. You couldn't help but be thankful, but at the same time wonder what would've happened if...
"Would it hurt?" You ask before you could stop yourself.
Your husband answers you with gentleness, patience, and honesty. "It might. But it could also be like how the poets say."
"W-what do they say?" You ask, getting comfortable on your side of the bed.
Lucius keeps a playful smile as he recites some of the poems, making you blush with their imagery that's both vulgar yet romantic. He tells you of intertwining vines and dewy flower petals, and sweet juicy fruits-
"A fruit? How so?" You make him pause. He chuckles nervously, almost boyish.
"Ah well when it's... a man... pleasures a woman... he uses his tongue and..eats her... fruit..." He explains, hoping you don't notice how hot his face is.
You stare at him, completely blanked out.
"Her... fruit?"
Lucius raises his eyebrows and moves his eyes down, trying to communicate the word without terrorizing you.
"But would that be pleasurable?"
"I-I would hope-"
"For a man??"
"Oh, Indeed!" He chuckles, "Well for me, that is.."
The night continues as the ice breaks between you, laughing and explaining poetic euphemisms, gradually getting comfortable with each other. You find yourself gravitating towards him, brushing your fingers against his skin. You don't miss how his breath hitches and he doesn't miss your jaw tensing as he continues his poetry. You suspect some of these are his own.
As the sky begins to brighten, you scoot closer, resting your hand on his arm.
"Lucius..." You whisper, silently communicating what you want.
"You don't have to." He whispers your name, giving you the freedom to say no. To not do it out of duty.
"I want to. Do you want to?" you ask nervously.
"Yes." He whispers, tracing his fingers over your jaw. You move closer to kiss him and he gladly reciprocates.
The sun is now high up in the sky when you wake up, feeling blissfully sore. Lucius lays half on top of you, his hair tickling your chin. He stirs and rolls off of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.
"Good morning..." You begin, pulling the sheets over your bare body.
Your husband groans and smiles like he's drunk, resting his arm over his eyes while the other pulls you closer.
"Did you... like eating my fruit?" You jest, making him laugh.
"I regret explaining that to you. You're gonna keep saying that, aren't you?" He teases.
The bliss is short-lived when someone knocks on your shared bedroom door. Lucius groans and doesn't bother covering up when he opens the door to find his own father-in-law, pushing himself in their room and tries to grab the bedsheets for proof of consummation. Before he makes it, Lucius grabs him and presses a blade against his neck.
"G-good morning, Caesar. I only wish to see the proof, the public demands it, you see-"
"Try asking again and see what I give you." Lucius presses the blade tighter, making him bleed.
Lucius throws him out of the room. You stare, keeping the blanket over you. You feel humiliated, trying not to cry.
Lucius drops his dagger and turns to you.
"Are you hurt?"
"N-not physically,"
A few days after the incident, you overhear your husband refusing his commander's suggestion to travel to the east to ensure the loyalty of some rich lord.
"I can not leave my wife. There are snakes everywhere, especially in the senate." Lucius explains to his commander.
This makes you feel both happy and guilty for holding him back.
Your father pulls you aside a few months later. He rarely sees you nowadays, Lucius must've banned him from the imperial residence.
"Are you pregnant?" He asks directly.
"W-what? No, I mean I don't think so-" You return to your nervous demeanour whenever you're alone with him.
"Are you daft, girl? You ought to find out. If you are not, keep trying. And make sure its a son." He scowls.
Your monthly courses arrived that week. Lucius rarely, if ever, initiates with how he is too tired or too busy from the day's work. Your household duties also kept you occupied during the day, only seeing him briefly when he comes to bed when you are asleep.
One day, one of the new serving girls linger by your door after dressing you for the day.
"What is it, Milena?" You ask, glancing at her through your polished silver mirror.
Milena glances around before stepping closer. This alarms you a bit, but she whispers: "Your husband has taken on a lover,"
You blink, not really believing it. Lucius? Your Lucius?! Your chuckle fades into doubt. What if? He has been coming home late in the evenings…
The serving girl leaves you alone to think about it. He is an emperor, after all. You’ve seen how power corrupts men, expanding their ego and their appetite.
Later that night, Lucius enters your shared bedroom and joins you in bed, going straight to sleep. You feel the mattress dip behind you, the covers shifting as he covers himself. He gently reaches out for you, briefly brushing his fingers against your skin before he’s out cold.
You face him quietly. Could he really? You’re not so sure anymore.
This goes on for a few nights more. Lucius begins to notice how you don’t joke around with him anymore, how you’re always in deep thought, eyes watery or swollen especially in the morning.
He catches you one night when he feels you leave the bed. He immediately calls out to you when he hears your sobbing.
“Is it true?” You begin.
“Is what true?” Lucius reaches out for you but you pull away.
“That you’ve taken another woman-”
His jaw tenses. Caught. “Who told you that?”
“You think I would betray you?” His voice breaks. You hate how tender and hurt he sounds.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” You whisper. “Everyone always wanted us to fail. Maybe… maybe you finally realized you don’t want me.”
Lucius' heart shatters. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms. You fight it at first, weakly pushing at his chest, but he just holds on tighter. “I love you.” He murmurs against your hair. “Only you. Only ever you.”
And that’s when you break. You sob into his shoulder, clutching at him, all the doubt, all the fear pouring out. Lucius rocks you gently, pressing kisses to your temple, murmuring promises against your skin, reminding you of the oath he took when he married you. Reminding you that he is a man of honor, and he is not one to break oaths. And when you finally calm down, he pulls back just enough to look at the mess of your face with dried tears.
“Tell me who poisoned your mind with these lies,” he whispers. “Tell me, and I will deal with them.”
“Its not important, Lucius, its just the new serving girl…” You sigh, feeling tired and weak from your emotional outburst. Lucius remains ever patient and lets you lay back on the bed, tucking you in before joining you.
“A new serving girl? I don’t remember approving a new serving girl?” He wonders and decides not to bother you further. Lucius kisses you to sleep, letting you snuggle into his warmth.
“You’ve sunk low, old man.” Lucius barges into the consul’s office, first thing in the morning. His voice is cold. Dangerous. “You sent a spy into my home? Into my wife’s private chambers?”
The consul just smirks. “She is my daughter.”
Lucius clenches his fists. “She is my wife.”
Agrippa waves a hand dismissively. “And yet, it was so easy to make her doubt you.”
Lucius steps closer, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper. “If you ever,ever plant another lie in her head again, I will not be so merciful.”
You don’t see Milena anymore. Lucius made sure she is situated away from Agrippa’s influence and is making a decent living in the city. Your father, despite Lucius’ efforts to stop him from seeing you, still makes a way to make a quick surprise visit, dropping a mild hint of a worst case scenario if things don’t go his way. You know what your father is capable of, and you tremble at the thought of it.
Later that night, you find Lucius in a good mood as he joins you for supper. You pour him some wine, the special ones you’ve asked the servants for. Lucius smiles as he takes his cup, enjoying the flavor. You continue refilling his cup, your touch lingering on his arm or his thigh.
“You’re in a mood tonight..” He says in a teasing tone.
“D-do you like it?” You ask, trying to calm your nerves. He pulls you closer, seating you on his lap.
“You know I do.” He leans in, his smile a little playful. He is a little bit tipsy, but sober enough to carry you to the bed.
You pull him into a kiss, a little forceful on your end. He kisses you back, until he feels your tears. Almost immediately, Lucius pulls away, blinking rapidly to shake off the haze of wine and lust. “Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head quickly, your emotions pouring out. “No, no Lucius, I-”
“Please talk to me,” He keeps a respectful distance, hoping you’d tell him something. And you do. You reveal to him the conversation you had with your father. That he had threatened to have Lucius assassinated if he remained uncooperative. The cooperation he expects right now is for you to conceive an heir to cement their places in the empire.
“I’m sorry, Lucius-” You couldn’t look him straight in the eye. He very carefully touches your face, making you face him.
“You don’t owe your father anything.” He begins and adds just before you could say something. “And you don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe Rome anything.”
You sigh, taking in his words. No one has ever said that to you before. You touch him this time, full of affection and gratefulness.
“I don’t want a child for my father. I want one for us.” You reveal, feeling the weight off your chest.
Lucius searches your eyes, looking for any hesitation. He finds none. He kisses you gently at first, then deeper, like he’s making a promise. This time, when you come together, it’s not as an emperor and empress. Its real.
Agrippa’s pride skyrockets when he hears the news. He is going to be a grandfather. His grandchild, whom he expects is a son, will be a prince of Rome. Lucius never wanted to tell him, but you thought he was going to find out anyway at some point. Lucius decides that time would be during the imperial announcement when you were about four moons along. “He finds out when everyone else finds out. Keeps him humble.” Your husband chuckles. He’s been doting on you ever since you both found out. He makes sure you don’t stay under the sun for too long, makes you eat more fruits, and doesn't let you do heavy work when handling household matters.
Lucius also filters out the news that is reported to you. That is why you missed the update of your father doing a grand celebration tour, visiting cities to accept congratulations and well-wishes from the friends of the empire. These friends are the noble folk benefiting the most from keeping Rome from becoming a republic. He has been labelled as the kingmaker, having the power to depose and install whoever serves his purpose best.
This news comes to you three months late when one afternoon, Gaius, one of your husband’s most trusted men, comes running, bringing urgent news.
“Emperor, empress, the consul had an incident-!”
Lucius tries to stop Gaius but it is too late.
“What happened? Where is he?” You stand up, clutching your pregnant belly, due only a few weeks from now. Lucius nods to his loyal general, silently asking him to be sensitive with his words for her.
The consul’s tour had gone awry when his small entourage took a wrong route, passing through an impoverished village. His gold-trimmed carriage was robbed, his robes dragged out. Agrippa was dragged out and mobbed by the villagers, stoned, beaten, and eventually left for dead. When the dust had settled, the consul was no more.
“We’ve arranged for the body to be brought back here, your imperial majesties. It will take a week at most.” Gaius had put it in the simplest way, but your ears started ringing as he continued. You feel yourself being guided by Lucius into a chair, as your knees have given out.
That night, you could barely sleep. You can’t imagine what he went through in the last moments of his life, how afraid he must’ve been. You can’t recall ever seeing your father scared. He was always the feared one. Servants trembled before him, your mother was always nervous around him, you never got over being on edge around him, even when Lucius was around. You wanted to think he tried to fight for his life, but he was more of an intellectual than a fighter. He was mobbed, stoned, he had screamed for his life-
A sharp pain on your lower abdomen interrupts your thoughts. It doesn’t go away.
“Lucius-” You reach for him, sleeping soundly next to you.
He turns to you and finds you gripping the sheets, breath ragged. And then, the horrible, cold realization— the dark stain spreading beneath her. Blood and water soaks the sheets.
The emperor wastes no time and springs up so fast he nearly falls out of bed. His mind, foggy with sleep, snaps into clarity at the sight of you panting, clutching your belly, eyes filled with sheer panic.
And then he sees the blood.
"No! no, no, no-" His voice cracks as he lunges for the door.
The next few moments are a blur of chaos. Doors slam open. He is yelling, bellowing, waking the entire household. Torches flare. Servants stumble from their beds, eyes wide in alarm.
"Fetch the midwife! Now!" His voice shakes the walls. "Get hot water, clean linens! MOVE!"
The guards, usually composed, look startled. They've seen him command armies, but never like this. Never with this much fear in his voice.
He rushes back to you, pressing a hand to your clammy forehead. You grip his wrist like a vice, her breath ragged, pained.
"It’s too soon, Lucius-" your voice is so small and fragile, pain and fear all mixing together in a terrifying feat for the emperor.
"I know," he whispers, pressing a trembling kiss to her damp hair. But gods help him, he cannot lose you and the child.
Lucius has fought in arenas, has seen men gutted, has heard the dying wails of warriors. Nothing—nothing—compares to this.
Your screams shake the walls. They echo down the corridors, curling in the dark like some ancient curse. Servants flinch. The guards outside shift uncomfortably. The midwife is murmuring reassurances, but Lucius can barely hear her over the sound of your agony.
You claw at the sheets, face contorted in pain. Sweat and tears streak down your cheeks. He has never seen you so helpless, so afraid. And there is nothing he can do.
“Lucius!” you wail, gripping his arm with surprising strength.
"I’m here, I’m here-" His voice is hoarse, useless. He presses his forehead to yours, his own hands trembling as he holds you down, praying to the gods to do something.
Hours pass. The sun begins to rise. You continue wailing in pain until your strength gives out.
By the time the midwife gives a final command to push, Lucius is pale. He sees you drained, pale, barely responding, body wracked.
And then, A small, thin wail.
The boy is so tiny. Too small, too fragile. The midwife moves quickly, wrapping him up, but Lucius sees the look on her face. She is worried.
You pick up on the sound, like a kitten cooing in the distance. You try to lift your head. "Let me see-"
Lucius watches the boy, so small, so fragile, too light in his arms. He swallows, feeling his throat close up on him. He has never been more afraid in his life.
You take your son in your arms for the first time. He is so innocent. You feel guilty for not looking after yourself well enough, that he’s suffering the consequences of your actions. Your lips tremble as you lean in just a little, whispering to the baby. "You must fight.." you tell him. "You must be strong, my love. Be brave... like your father.”
Lucius watches the scene, feeling utterly useless as his boy takes shallow breaths, looking so frail in his mother’s arms.
For days, the child struggles to latch on to his mother. His cries continue to sound like a mewl, his lungs still underdeveloped. You barely get amy sleep, fearing the child would stop breathing in the night. Lucius feels helpless as all he could do was to gently remind you to eat and sleep. He sees you pale, your cheeks slowly losing flesh and your wrists thinning out.
At one point he’s gotten so worried that he basically forces you to stay in bed. In your weak state, you still fought him on it, taking up the last of your energy and giving out. He catches you before you hit the ground and takes you to bed, calling for the medicus and various healers.
“I need you to live, my love. The both of you.” He whispers as he tucks you to sleep, keeping the baby’s crib next to your bed.
When you wake, you still feel the exhaustion in your bones. You body doesn’t cooperate when you try to sit up. Lucius feels your movement and wakes up from being hunched next to you.
“Where is he, Lucius? Is he-?” Your voice was weak but panicked.
“He is here. He is fighting. He’s strong, just like his mother.” Lucius places his finger in the boy’s tiny palm. The former gladiator feels the boy’s grip. Weak, but fighting.
That week, the consul’s body was brought back to the capital. You demanded your maid to tell you the news, forcing yourself out of bed to see the scene in the gates of your imperial residence. It was the stench that had hit you first. As you stand by the grand entrance, you see a pitiful cart carrying his mangled body wrapped in sackcloth fabric, flies swarming about.
Lucius sees you and immediately stops you from moving closer, protecting you in your weakened state.
“Get back inside, its not healthy for you to be here,” Lucius’ warning falls to deaf ears as you power through the smell of rot. He catches you just before you reach the cart. “Don’t. Don’t remember him this way.”
“I have to see him, Lucius!” You say, feeling obligated to honour the remains of your father, the man who made you empress, the statesman who helped build Rome to its current glory. You step closer and grab the cloth covering his face, revealing his rotting visage, smashed in, buzzing with flies, unrecognizable. Bile threatens to crawl up your throat as you feel your breath hitch. You don’t realize you’ve collapsed, screaming. Lucius holds on to you, preventing you from going any closer. He orders his men to prepare a pyre as he carries you back inside the house.
“A pyre?! He is a statesman, Lucius! We must honor him! You can’t just burn him-!”
“You don’t have to do this, love. He’s gone now.” Lucius comforts you, placing you gently on the bed.
“No! What will they say? His own daughter does not honour him even when he made her empress?!”
“I made you empress. I married you.” Lucius reminds calmly. His patience seems to know no bounds. You know he is exhausted, he too had spent sleepless nights worrying about you and your son. Your sobs begin to calm down when he strokes your hair gently, letting you focus on him.
“I don’t know how to feel. I think I’m an awful daughter for feeling relieved-”
“Shh, no you’re not. What you feel is valid. He was your jailer. Now you are free.” Lucius whispers, letting you close your eyes.
“I don’t know what to do.” You mumble.
“You don’t have to do anything, love. Not today.”
You nod, letting yourself rest. Before you could sleep, you hear your boy coo from his cradle right next to you.
You watch him wiggle, breaking free from his swaddle. His chest is rising and falling with short but steady and determined breaths.
“Oh!” You sit up and watch him, kicking away his small blanket. Lucius watches, fitting his finger in his small hand. His grip is a lot stronger today. He fights for another day.
“He’s getting stronger..” Lucius smiles.
You nod. This little bundle of joy wants to keep fighting. Who are you to give up on yourself? He needs his mother. You feel yourself straighten up, pulling yourself together for this little human, needing a mother to raise him with love and warmth. No more scheming, no more politics. Just you, Lucius, and your little fighter.
A few months later, the boy grows up strong and steady. He’s been giggling a lot and is learning how to crawl. Just like him the republic begins to take shape. One day, Lucius decides that the senate will never be ready. So he just leaves.
He tells you one afternoon after putting little Maximus down for a nap.
“We should start packing.” He says, very calmly.
“Oh? Is the senate finally ready?” You ask, tucking your boy in.
“They’ll never be ready. They’ll figure out. They’re all grown-ups anyway.” He chuckles. You look at him, wondering if he’s serious. He is.
“O-okay.. I’ll start packing.” You nod.
Lucius worries you’ll end up packing too much.
As the last bundle of clothes gets loaded up the cart, you take the time to say goodbye to your house staff. A few of them were your own personal maids from your childhood, enduring your tantrums, your selfish acts, even when you were treating them like furniture. You embrace each of them, thanking them for putting up with you all these years. They had technically raised you, became the parents that cared for you unconditionally when your own father was busy raising his gold reserves.
The elderly staff cries, unable to believe that this young woman was the same spoiled girl they used to tiptoe around.
You insist on paying them generously, using your father’s wealth. Some refuse, saying you’ve given them more than enough, witnessing how you’ve changed for the better.
Cassia tearfully smiles, holding your hands. She was there when you were born, and she was there when you were giving birth. She had witnessed your journey, from a girl, to an empress, to a woman who learned to love and be loved.
“You’ve grown up so well, my lady.”
For the first time in your life, you truly feel like you have grown up well.
The staff insisted on letting you take the carriage one last time but you had refused. Taking only your clothes and some items for the baby, you sit on the wooden cart drawn by a horse Lucius is riding. The house staff waves, watching the former imperial family head out to their new life.
As you reach beyond the city gates, you feel a weight being pulled from your shoulders. You have never been this far from home. You look back, seeing the city shrink.
“Oh no.. Regretting it already?” Lucius jokes.
“Not at all. Glad to be walking out of it alive. Glad to be going home.” You smile, knowing wherever Lucius is, that’s where home will be.
When you reach your humble farm villa, you help your former emperor unpack the bags. You spot the jewelry box you had intended on leaving.
“Hey, what’s this doing here?” You ask Lucius.
“Ah well, I… Its- Just in case, you know?” He chuckles, feeling ashamed.
“In case what?” You put your hands on your hips playfully interrogating him.
“Well, I’m not really a great farmer…” He scratches the back of his head.
“Oh, and you decide to tell me this now?!”
Lucius shrugs. “I thought it best to break the news after we left.”
“So, what now? We starve?” You gasp, feigning betreyal.
Lucius smirks, leaning against the doorway. “I was hoping you’d take pity on me and do the farming instead.”
You groan dramatically, tossing the box aside. “Unbelievable. You should’ve just stayed emperor.”
Lucius grins, stepping closer, kissing her forehead. “Nah… I think I like this better.”
IDKY but on my period I need him grey, big and a little mean (but never mean to me)
(Give me Clint, Joel and Acacias)
Which is why I only want to write my cozy Clint fic right now. you know he's get a VHS box set of your comfort watch and a favourite snack while he was out breaking knees then come home and rub your back while you watched said show and ate said snacks.
Also my The Devil's Pilot version of late 50's/ early 60's Javier Pena who looks like a cross between Joel Miller and Read Richards in my mind. Ultimate dad/husband era Javi, but now he's got Joel's ass in those tight jeans.
Also he very much needs glasses but NEVER wears them (until Ana makes him). IYKYK.
Speaking of Joel, he's the Grumpy/Cuddly Blue print
Let's not forget Marcus that big bad Simp.
Honourable mention to this specific Harry Castillo moment
and this specific interview
This post could have been a lot longer actually. Cuddle me and bring me chocolate god damnit. (and maybe stab somebody i don't like on your way home from getting said chocolate.)
