T

Born in Middle Earth 📍 Westeros Send me requests please!!

[tori111777]

—THE WANDER

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Going between Hogwarts and Westeros is no easy task, especially when you accidently go there. Your story is just beginning, but how will you survive your destiny?

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🎞️: Harry Potter x A Song of Ice and Fire

👤: y/n

💌: multiple

🖋️: wattpad, tiktok, ao3

00. Prologue

01. Take me out

02. Where to go

03. Still a lot of lands to see

04. Back and Forth

05.

[tori111777]

—THE WANDER

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Chapters

02. Where to go

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"Visenya, wake up."

She could feel someone shaking her awake but knew that voice from anywhere. "Go back to sleep, egg." She turned over on her other side and shut her eyes. He shook her harder this time.

She threw back the covers, it was hard to see him with no light but she could feel his presence. "What do you have of me?" She whispered as loud as she could at him.

She was out of it, the strangest dream she had where she was lost and no one knew where home was. More like a nightmare than a dream.

"Let's go." He started to tug at her arm to drag her out of bed which she pulled back. "The hour is late."

His voice started to plea, "Vee, please. When father finds us I'll take the punishment, please just come with me." She sat up straight, "and what of Daeron?" She asked. "He's drunk downstairs, it doesn't matter and you have your cloak." He began to reason with her and he knew she couldn't say no to him.

She stayed silent, making Egg creep closer to her. "Okay." Visenya sighed after debating, "where are we going?"

"There's this knight-"

"A knight? Are you sure you are not being tricked?" Visenya loved her younger brother dearly, but he was always an outgoing child. A wild child.

He grabbed a wooden stool that was in the room and stood on it, "if we are going to do this ask no questions." Egg tried his best to seem like he was a leader when more he was a follower, it was his idea in the seven hells to follow this knight.

Visenya stood up and walked over to the door before she pushed out the stool that was underneath egg so he would fall. The thud was most likely loud enough to wake everybody up.

"I take back my trade!" Egg whispered from the floor.

☾𖤓

Visenya tried her best to resist taking off her cloak in the burning sun. It was such a bad idea to come here, Ashford Meadow. Where of course, a tournament with her family is being held at. It was hot and sticky, and the large crowds of people did not help. It was hard not to strangle her brother in this moment for following a stupid knight and leading them here, of all places.

Maybe if she wasn't hiding, it could all be enjoyable, it looked enjoyable. To dance around, laugh with strangers, buy poorly made food.

"How do we know this man isn't a thief? Or worse..." Her eyes kept scanning the crowd, being very parionad. Egg was quite the opposite. "He's not, I told you, I spoke to him." He was in front of her, leading the way and squeezing in between people. "He told you he was going to give you a clout in the ear." Visenya sharply reminded him.

He lead her to the edge of the festival grounds, the voices of music and laughter slowly dimming away. She trusted her brother well enough, but this would not be the first time he would pull a trick on her.

The scenery broke into a forest, not for long as it opened into a far field- a meadow, with a singular tree nearby and a pool. Reeds and green grass grew long and tall. Also, with a tent, a campfire and horses. "What is this?" Visenya questioned, still staring at the scene. "Is this his pavillion?" Her voice became higher pitched with curiosity.

"If we get this place all neat and tidy for him... maybe he will let us stay!" Egg broke into a skip while running through the spring grass and into the meadow. She shook her head and started laughing, "you're crazy, I hope the gods know." "Father knows, don't worry!" Egg shouted as he was already under the tree.

Visenya could hear bugs creaking and pulled down the hood of cloak, letting her long silver golden hair flow down. The wind felt nice, the heat of the sun, she hadn't smiled like this in a long time. It made her forget all about her strange dream.

"You're good with horses right? Don't you go out in the kingswood and shoot arrows while riding?" Egg remarked, thinking. Visenya finally reached under the tree, "Yes, but no one needs to know about that." She smirked and looked at the horses nearby grazing, "I'm not going to ride them, Egg." She folded her arms in defense. "No! Just groom them. Gods Visenya..." He shook his head. "We all know I'm a better rider."

"You fell off on our way to Ashford, they had to put you in the carriage with us." Visenya giggled at the thought. He was so upset, thinking he could finally ride. Egg just blew raspberries and headed down to the pool nearby.

Visenya had found some old brushes near the tent that was used for grooming, picking them up and dusting off all the dirt. The horses were calm and didn't seem to mind her, she got worried sometimes with horses, it was a small fear of hers secretly but she always pushed herself to do it.

It was embarrassing. She, 'the blood of the dragon' wanted a dragon, doesn't like horses. Secretly she would try to ride in an excluded area and would make up stories of how good she was, and was, not good. It made her want to bash her head and now her smile faded.

She felt afraid of many of things in this world, yet this was her home. Deep down she belonged here, just... maybe not in Westeros. Essos maybe. She heard Dorne had great beaches and summer never went away down there.

Visenya wanted to be like her cousin. He was just the perfect Targaryen. It reminded her of one of their conversations saying he hated his dark hair. Though, it was such a distant moment. Right now, she wished she had dark hair to blend in right now.

She put down the brush and stepped back. Inhaling in and out and closed her eyes. Letting the warm air flow through her. Visenya decided to go and find out what Egg had gotten up to.

"Visenya, come quick!" He heard her yell.

☾𖤓

Visenya and Egg sat next to each other later in the night, both with their hoods up. Visenya wasn't even sure if the knight was ever going to come back. Her knees were pulled close to her chest and she started to fall in and out of sleep.

Her mind started to act weird. It was all a dazed picture of the sea and two woman playing in it. Her head bobbed up and down trying to stay awake, she was afraid to fall asleep again. She heard voices at first, but they faded out as the sound of wrestling bushes took over.

A man had jumped through, he came to a halt when he saw Egg. He didn't flinch, looking up from the campfire, and only finally waking Visenya up from her trance. "You!" The man, well maybe a boy, he looked only two or three years older than Visenya lowered his sword at Egg. "What are you doing here?"

"Cooking a fish, do you want some?" Visenya put her head in her hands at the sight of Egg and the Manboy talking.

"I meant, how did you get here? Did you steal a horse?" He questioned her brother, Visenya wasn't even sure if he knew if she was there or not.

"We rode in the back of a cart, with a man who was bringing some lambs to the castle for my lord of Ashford's table." Egg explained. He must really want to be a squire.

The knight looked between the two of them, and squinted his eyes. Visenya pulled her hood up more, it was too dark into the night anyways to see her hair. "Well, you'd best see if he's gone yet, or find another cart. I won't have you here." He scolded them.

"You can't make us go," Egg stood up, impertinent. "I'd had enough of that inn." It was true, with Daeron getting drunk and Visenya staying in her room as being the only one with her silver golden hair. It was hard for Egg not to get bored or do something stupid, like this.

"I'll have no more insolence from you." The knight warned the siblings. "I should throw you over my horse right now and take you home."

"Well you can't throw a girl over a horse." Egg stated which made Visenya turn her head at her brother. The knight looked confused for a second then looked at Visenya for a second longer and seethed his sword into his makeshift belt.

He looked around and brushed his hand over his face. Mostly wondering what he's going to do with a girl now. Seeing the clothes hanging from the elm tree above he asked, "What are those doing there?"

"I washed them and groomed your horses, sir." Visenya stepped into the conversation before her brother could talk again. "My brother made the fire, caught the fish and he tried to raise your pavillion, but couldn't find one."

The knight swept his hand over his head and showed off the tree that grew above them all. "There's my pavillion."

"That's a tree."

"It's a pavilion a true knight needs. I would sooner sleep under the stars than in some smoky tent."

"What if it rains?"

"The tree will shelter me."

"Trees leak." Visenya and the man kept bantering.

He laughed, making Visenya annoyed at her statements. "So they do. Well, if truth be told, I lack the coin for a pavilion." He turned to Egg, "And you'd best turn that fish, or it will be burned on the bottom and raw on the top. You'd never make a kitchen boy."

"I would if I wanted," Egg said, he turned the fish anyway.

"What happened to your hair?" The man asked of Egg.

Her brother pulled up the hood of his cloak, knowing that he was insecure about it. "The maesters shaved it off."

"Are you ill?" The knight asked, this man sure asks a lot of questions.

"No, what's your name?" Egg fired back.

"Dunk," he said.

Visenya and Egg looked at each other and started laughing loudly. "Dunk?" Egg remarked. "Ser Dunk? That's no name for a knight? Is it short for Duncan?"

"Sounds like drunk to me." She finally pulled herself together. Making her brother laugh more until he both looked at them with a stern face.

"Sorry." Both of the siblings said at the same time. Even though they were taunting a knight they just met. It was way better than being kept cooped up in the red keep.

"Ser Duncan the Tall." He said, probably thinking it sounded puissant. "I have never heard of any Ser Duncan the Tall." Egg clocked back to him.

"Do you know every knight in the Seven Kingdoms, then?" Dunk question only for Egg to say boldly, "The good ones."

"I'm as good as any. After the tourney, they'll know that. Do you have names, thieves?" Visenya was offended that she was called that but it was a change from 'Princess.'

"Egg."

"Vee." Both siblings saying their nicknames. It was their names though, only shorted.

Visenya expected for the knight to laugh at Aegons nickname but he did not find it as funny as 'dunk.'

"Egg, Vee," he said, "I should beat you bloody," pointing to Egg, "and you, sending you on your way," to Visenya. "I have no pavilion here and I have no squire either. If you'll swear to do as you're told, I'll let you serve for me at the tourney. And Vee, I've never heard of a girl being squire but I'll let you cook and clean while you are here with your friend. Afte-"

"Brother actually, I'm her brother." Egg cut him off which got him a look.

"After that, well, we'll see. If I decide you're worth your keep, you'll have clothes on your back and food in your belly. The clothes might be roughspun and the food salt beef and salt fish, and maybe some venison from time to time where there are no foresters about, but you won't go hungry. And I promise not to beat Egg expect when you deserve it." Dunk continued.

Egg smiled. "Yes, my lord." And Vee said, "Thank you."

"Ser," The knight corrected. "I am only a hedge knight." Visenya had heard of hedge knights a before but have never met one. Being with high lords so much and being a cup bearer, they typically didn't see hedge knights as real knights. I think that they're all wrong.

Dunk nodded towards the fish, "it's best it's done roasting right now." Egg pulled it back from the fire and gave it to him who took it off the stick. Then, cutting it up for all of them. It was still a little raw on the inside but it wasn't bad for Egg's first time cooking. Better than his riding.

Later into the night the cooler it had gotten, making Visenya settling closer to the fire with Egg beside her. He rested his head on her shoulder, almost passed out. Dunk had opted out to settle underneath the tree. The conversation had woken her up and couldn't find her tiredness again.

Only thing that could be heard was the crackling fire, and crickets in the grass, Egg's snores and a voice coming from the elm tree. "Not tired?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Visenya asked, she tried to be quiet so her brother could keep sleeping. He leaned his head back to rest of the tree and stare at the sky. He didn't say anything else.

She looked up at the stars as well, she'd wonder if she mother was up there right now looking down on her. What would she say? She also thought of how Daeron would've reacted when he found them gone. Probably too drunk to notice.

Vee thought a lot that night. She thought about her dream and how it felt to real, maybe when she fell asleep tonight as well that dream would come back to her, it was all so strange.

[tori111777]

—THE WANDER

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Chapters

01. Take me out

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"Do you know how you got here?" An old man asked.

Visenya Targaryen had tried her best to explain who she was, where she was from, who her family was. No one knew who or what she was though. No proof to show them either, her usual silver golden hair had turned the dark color of her mothers. She was unsure about her eyes, no mirror to look in so far.

When she had reached the front gates of the castle, dawn had come and the groundskeeper found her. Visenya was brought here and is now being questioned for her existence.

"I told you already, no! I woke up and here I am." She said back to him in reply. For Visenya did not trust them, they had to be lying. How could anyone not have heard of a Targaryen?

She was sitting in a chair on an elevated level, inside an office. Surrounded by all sorts of trinkets and books. Along the walls were moving paintings that starred at her and the rest of the people in the room. It freaked her out and when she first saw them she almost screamed but also was confused and intrigued by them.

A woman with her grey and black hair slicked back came over to the man and had a worried look on her face. "Albus, she doesn't know a thing." Her outfit was an emerald green robe. It was nice to know that style doesn't change much throughout the world. "She must posses some sort of magic. You know that there is no possible way she could have found the castle if she did not."

The man who she assumed his name was 'Albus' nodded by making a note of what woman said. You could see behind his half crescent moon glasses that we was thinking. All of them were standing around her, being the only one that was sitting down. "Flich." He called out after a second.

Visenya knew who Filch was, he was the one that had found her outside the castle doors at daybreak, surprising herself she didn't freeze to death out there. Her feet still felt numb even being inside for an hour or two now. They had gotten her some old shoes and an oversize coat.

"Go fetch, Sebastian. Tell him his detention hours can be used to give our new transfer student a tour." He nodded and left quickly as he came, he hunched over himself as he closed the door behind him. The woman in the robe spoke up again, "New transfer student? Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Visenya was listening to them speak as she studied the room a bit more, sinking back into her seat.

Albus started to pace around the room slowly, "Yes, well we need to get Ms..." He paused and turned to face the Valyrian girl. "May I ask your name?" Visenya went quiet. She wasn't sure if she should give away her Targaryen name or come up with a new one since they did not believe her. It would be safer this way. "y/n." Visenya responded.

He then began to search for something, Visenya would've loved to look through all the stuff, maybe see something from Westeros. Yet, she knew that she shouldn't. "I believe this is what you are looking for." The older woman handed him an old hat that had been stitched up many times and looked to be hanging on by a thread. "Thank you Professor McGonagall." He said with a polite nod. "Now this is a sorting hat, Ms. y/n. It will help sort you into what house you belong to here at Hogwarts."

I'm already in a house, the best one. She was confused, "What do you mean?" Professor McGonagall clasped her hands together and folded them in front of her. "There are four houses you could be put into. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Albus placed the hat on her head and McGonagall kept explaining. "Each house has its own qualities and traits, when you are placed in your house, your peers are almost like your family."

"For being brave and c-" but before she could continue, she was cut out by the hat talking that made Visenya jump.

"Oh, I've rarely seen a mind like this before..." The hat's voice was dark and raspy, most likely due to age. "A long way from home, aren't we? I see, I see." Visenya could feel her heartbeat in her chest. The hat didn't talk again.

"A hat stall." Albus said, his voice was always curious, almost whimsical even. "That hat is making a decision about you. Seems like you belong in multiple houses." No I don't. "You see, Professor McGonagall here had a hat stall when she first came to Hogwarts as well." He continued to pace around the office while McGonagall stayed still. "This might take a while, you never know with the sorting hat." She remarked.

Visenya nodded her head, not knowing how else to respond to these sort of people. The hat was lumpy and too big for her head. She wouldn't be surprised if she would start coughing up dust later. "While we wait, we best tell you about Hogwarts and what you will be doing here." The older woman said. Albus had stopped pacing and came back to the front of his desk. They both finally sat down after so long of being here.

"This castle that you have walked into is Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, as I was saying earlier, there are four houses. Gryffindor, for the brave and courageous, their color is red. Hufflepuff for loyalism and kindness, they are yellow. Ravenclaw, the creative and witty, they are blue and finally, Slytherin. Ambitious and cunning, they are green. But the hat is thinking you are all four."

"Professor McGonagall and I will be sorting out your schedule later today for your classes. If you do not get it tonight it will-" The old man was cut off by the hats booming voice.

"I see. I see. A strong sense of mind and determination. You show every trait yet none. You belong in... y/h." McGonagall quickly pulled off the hat off her head and back onto the shelf. "We I believe that is sorted for you, besides the classes." Visenya smiled. There wasn't else more that she could do.

"Your teachers will be informed, of course about your... situation." The woman chose her words cautiously while explaining to her. "You must not tell anyone about what has happened here. Do you understand Ms. y/n?" "I understand." Visenya answered.

"How old are you Ms. y/n?" Albus questioned her. "Three-and-Ten sir." She responded. Both adults seemed to be puzzled by this but noted it down anyways in their heads. McGonagall stood up from her seat, "would you stand up dear?" Visenya didn't say anything but stand from the seat. "Now... let's get you into your robes." She pulled out a stick that was in her inside robe pocket and with a flick, her clothes had changed into black robes with her house color.

"How did you..." Visenya muttered under her breath. It was magic, she knew it but had never seen it.

The door creaked open with Flich coming back with a boy. He had freckles scattered around his face with messy brunette hair. He was wearing green robes. Must be in Slytherin...

"Here he is." Flich voice was raspy and hard to listen too. The boy, Sebastian he seemed alright. "So no detention then?" His eyes flicked to Visenya first then to McGonagall and Albus. "We'll see Sebastian." Professor McGonagall said with a stern look on her face. "We had hoped you'll give our new third year a tour around here."

"Oh professor, you know I would never let you down." She could tell he was being sarcastic and just 'hmmed.'

He walked over to where Visenya was standing and flashed a smile that Visenya was not impressed by. "Sebastian, it's a pleasure to meet you." "y/n." Visenya said quickly enough, letting him know that she was not charmed by him.

"Now if you follow me, you'll get the grand tour of Hogwarts."

His hand made a gesture to come along. All Visenya wanted to do was take a long nap, maybe this would all be some sort of nightmare she'll wake up from.

☾𖤓

"Now this here is the trophy room. No one mostly goes here, nothing important. I just think it's a place where people store their junk." Sebastian showed off the room. It was pretty interesting, there wasn't just trophies but many other curious objects as well she had never seen before.

There were many different suits of armors, ranging in all sizes lining the wall. "Now look at this here." He guided her over towards a tower figure incrusted with many beautiful jewels. "This is the 'Goblet of Fire.' It happens every four years which is next year... maybe I'll enter in." He started to walk forward while Visenya was still looking at it.

Across from the jeweled engraved casket was just a bunch of trophy's, some labeled as "House cup" and "Dueling, Quidditch." Whatever that is. Visenya thoughts circling her brain. She would ask what all these things mean; she didn't want to give away that she wasn't from here.

"It's a tournament, wizards and witches get to compete for the cup doing varied tasks." "Sounds so much fun." Visenya joked, catching up to the boy. They both walked in awkward silence for a bit before Sebastian got back to talking again.

"I'm in my 4th year, by the way." He sounded shy, probably because Visenya wasn't in the mood for talking much at the moment. "Got it." Her sarcastic tone came out again. He scratched the back of his neck, "anything you want to see in particular?" He asked.

Maybe a map home?

There was many things she wanted to see, just for now she asked for the most important stuff she'll think that she'll need. "Where are the classes and bathing?" He nodded, "Then let's get to it." His energy was way too energetic for Visenya right now who all just wished for was to go back to Westeros, her home.

"So, where are you from?" Sebastian asked. "Around." She wanted to keep it short. "Around?" Giving a puzzled look to her, making his head turn. "Around where?" "Here and there." That made him laugh. "I just couldn't tell by your accent... it's strange."

They started to head down flights of stairs, it was easier going down than heading back up. Thank the gods for that. "Do you know what classes you're taking?" Sebastian asked her still focused on the steps in front of him. "No. They told me I will get my schedule tonight or tomorrow morning." He clasped his hands together, "well I guess I have to show you all the classrooms then."

He showed her the grand staircase, which was confusing and scary for Visenya. Not to mention that the portraits wouldn't stop talking for one second.

"Y/n" Sebastian corrected himself, his charms sticking to him. "Be careful where you walk, only on these stairs; they move." She gave a puzzled look walking down but then saw down below that they were in fact. Moving. "Just follow my lead and you won't get lost," He moved his head towards her eyes.

They only got to 3 bathrooms and a handful of classes before half of the day had already passed and found themselves standing outside the library entrance, next to a moving fountain that seemed to be mermaids.

She had remembered when she was younger reading fairytales of unicorns and mermaids. Some people say that they aren't real. One time she had told her maester that she had wanted a unicorn and he told her that 'pretty' unicorns don't exist. Later in life she found out they look more like goats than actually horses.

"Do you believe in unicorns?" Visenya turned her head sharply towards him as he was standing nearby. "Hmm?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow, obviously not hearing what she had said. "I said, do you believe in unicorns?" He looked up and made a confused face, "yeah? Why wouldn't I? Everyone does! Why?" He put his hands in his pockets and started to rock back and forth.

"Just wondering." Visenya shrugged and turned around. She saw a painting off in the distance that grabbed her attention, she started to walk over there. It took a minute for Sebastian to figure out that Visenya had started to walk away. "Visenya?" He questioned then saw her walking up the steps to a dragon portrait.

He came up behind her and looked at the dragon moving on the wall as well. "You have dragons here?" Visenya didn't bother looking at him, instead keeping her eyes on her blood. He replied quickly but out of breath, "no. Merlin no." Visenya's expression did not change when she turned to him.

"Hey um, how long did it take you to find your way around?" She asked, curious on how long it was gonna take her. He thought on it for a while before saying, "a couple of months. There's a lot of secrets to this castle still that I haven't found yet."

"Sebastian!" Called a voice from behind them, a girl with long blondish and brunette a bit came up from the stairs behind them. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to give this to you." Her soft hands handed over a piece of paper over to him. She must've never worked a day in her life.

"Thanks Ana." He started to read then stopped, "Oh, this is your classes Visenya." He handed the paper over to her next. She took the paper willingly and looked at the table in front of her. Most of these classes she would have no idea what they were if Sebastian had not explain it to her.

"Visenya, this is Ana. Ana, this is Visenya." She looked up at the girl in front of her. She had a soft smile and perfect teeth. Light grey eyes and overall a soft complex which was warming. Visenya decided to give her a smile back. "It looks like we're in the same year! How come I've never seen you before?" Ana titled her head to the side.

"Oh, I'm a new transfer student." She had no idea what a transfer student was. "That's so cool! Where did you come from before?" This girl is asking a lot of questions. "You wouldn't have heard of it." Visenya stated firmly.

She felt sorta bad for saying it so sternly but no one needed to know that she was lost.

"It's no worries." Ana made a gesture with her hands. She looked towards Sebastian and back to Visenya. "Well it was nice meeting you, and seeing you again Sebastian." She walked back a couple of steps, "well Potions class calls." She left with a friendly wave and headed back down the stairs.

"Ana's really friendly, basically friends with the whole school." Sebastian told Visenya while peering over her shoulder to read her schedule with her. "First hour... history of magic on mondays? Well I guess you might as well sleep in." She looked at him then back to the sheet as she rolled her eyes.

"Care of Magical creatures?" She questioned him. "We haven't gotten to that class yet, it's outside. But it's basically what the title of the class says." "Dragons?" She raised an eyebrow and her voice became more curious. "Yeah, you learn about those. But a lot of people find the class boring, hopefully Hagrid does a good job this year." Sebastian trailed off.

"What's your favorite class?" Sebastian closed his eyes to think. "Defense Against the Dark Arts for sure. I have that class for the first time tomorrow, everyone says the new Professor is amazing." Visenya blinked, "do you get new Professors every year?" "No... just for defense against the dark arts. People think that job is cursed, including me." "Oh." Visenya quietly mumbled under her breath.

Sebastian stepped back a bit after rereading her schedule. "We should go to the great hall for lunch, if you're hungry." He shrugged. Now that he had mentioned it. Visenya didn't even remember the last time she had eaten and was starving. She had always preferred fruit from essos. It was her favorite, always dreaming there about going there someday, one day.

"Do you guys have fruit?"

Sebastian laughed, "you should see what we don't have." He shook his head and his hand glided down the stairwell.

Before Visenya decided to follow him she turned to the dragon once last time. Her egg had never hatched, neither did her brothers or sisters. Sometimes she thought dragons were a myth and cursed her ancestors for the 'dance of the dragons.'

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Sebastian?" He made a weird face at her. "Merlin, what's up with you and dragons?" "Is a woman not allowed to wonder?" She started to test him as they walked down the corridors. "You're 13." "That's almost a woman from where I'm from." Visenya crossed her arms. "And where is that? The Middle Ages?" Sebastian laughed at his own joke that Visenya did not find funny.

He saw the expression on her face and pulled himself together, "sorry."

Visenya let her arms drop and walked more staggered down the marble and wood hallways. The place was huge, maybe even big as Harenhall...

She wondered how much this place would've cost and why such a lord would turn it into a place of learning, and letting anyone in? She was wondering about a lot of things right now.

Why did she have dark hair? Were her eyes still purple? Where was she? Is this still Westeros?

And how does one get back home?

[tori111777]

—THE WANDER

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Chapters

00. Prologue

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The air was light and cool, all around her she felt the softness of the grass and smiled a little with her teeth. It felt peaceful until she remembered she did not fall asleep on the grass. Her smile faded quick enough as she sat up straight. Nothing looked familiar all around her, it was too dark to see anyways.

Not the trees, nor the birds that sang songs away. Not the flowers that started to rot away and smell of late fall. It wasn't fall and it wasn't her home. How long was I asleep for?

She tried to think. Think long and hard, she had to know better than this. It had strained her head trying to think when she could not remember anything at all. After a minute panic began to set over her body. It was useless trying to think even if that was the best thing she could do right now.

Standing up, her legs shook a bit before she had her balance. Looking around for anything that might be familiar to her but there was nothing in sight but trees that covered the night sky. Only light that came was from the firefly's and the moonlight from above. All of this didn't make any sense.

Think. If forests are all around Westeros, she could be anywhere. North was the wall but south was Dorne. She had better taking her chances heading south than face the harsh cold. What if I'm not in Westeros? She had to take her chances anyways, staying her would be her worst solution.

Taking in a deep breath, the air seemed to calm her down a bit and all that could be heard was owl's stalking the night. She looked up the best she could, but the trees were in the way of her seeing the stars in the sky. She had remembered her brother teaching her about stars and how to use them. Thinking it was stupid at that time it came in use now.

"The north star is the brightest, it's easy to find, look."

Heading in the opposite way, she started walking. The forest was large everywhere she looked; ferns, wildflowers, mushrooms. She even saw a deer that spooked when she saw her. She could smell the wet earth and droplets on the leaves- it must've rained here.

She was nervous, how could she be not? Somewhere where it is a foreign land and not remembering? Wouldn't a normal person be scared? Her bare feet touched the mud that belonged to the earth, she paid no mind to how dirty she was getting.

Her eyes tried it's best not to linger on the edges of the forest, something about it here wasn't welcoming to her. Sometimes some sounds could be heard that she did not make. She stopped and looked around to see but of course, nothing was there. She hugged herself to stay warm, it was fall by the way some of the leaves were changing their colors.

She knew she had reached the edge when the sky turned from leaves to actual stars she could see clearly. The view that the forest never gave, gave her some comfort. Seeing many different things in the land beyond her the most notable thing was a castle, letting out a sigh of relief.

She stopped walking before her feet almost touched the water that flowed into a lake that surrounded the castle. The castle was not small by any means, but she had seen bigger. Though, not remembering any castle like this or being described like this. There was no castle this big in size by a lake. It could not be Harrenhal as it wasn't burnt down by a dragon nor big enough.

But what other choice did she have? They would surely help her after all, with her Valyrian features... She was a Targaryen after all.

[tori111777]

Hi! Will you still be updating here or only on wattpad?

I’ll try to update on here the best I can but if you want all the major updates it’ll probably be on my wattpad

[tori111777]

Hello! This isn't a request (sorry) but I adore your Fright and Fury series, you are a very talented writer!!

thank you!! I just realized I haven’t updated this series on here but it’s been updated on wattpad which is @best1ravenclaw !!

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 8

Part 8, Part 9

Summary: A dagger lays before you (ifykyk)

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Spoilers, all that

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

“You did this!” You ran right up to the Emperor Geta and yelled in his face. It was a bold move of you considering the circumstances of the moment.

It was far past when the sun had set over Rome and the mob outside of the palace was growing more anxious every second as their beloved hero, the general was killed.

Around him, the guards stiffened, hands tightening around their weapons, but Geta made no move to signal them. He merely regarded you with a detached amusement, as if your fury was an amusing distraction from the chaos outside.

“There was nothing else to do. He and his bitch were plotting to kill us. If I’d let him live-“ He was cut off by his brother. “Don’t you hear them? They’re calling for our heads!”

Macrinus tried to poor some wine and offered it to Geta. But you weren’t having any of it tonight. “Go.” You snapped at him as, feeling like your father in that moment, he nodded and left. “Who brought this on us? Who?!” Your husband was begging for answers that you knew he had the answer to.

“Calm yourself, brother. The Praetorians will put down this crowd like they have every other-“ No one was able to get their words in this conversation as Dondus started to squeal restlessly on Caracallas shoulder. “Keep the ape still!” Geta yelled, angrier than ever.

Caracalla flinched, “Beware how you speak of Dondus!” The two brothers were arguing once more, it was nothing new and you have seen it a million times before. It also wasn’t helping that your husband sickness was getting worse. “Come.” You grabbed his hand and let him get up from the couch. “Let your brother calm down.”

You led your husband away from the tense confrontation, your grip firm on his hand as you guided him to a quieter corner of the room. His face was flushed with anger and exhaustion, the sickness that had plagued him worsening with each passing day. "I understand your anger, but fighting with Geta... it only makes things worse."

Caracalla’s eyes flickered with a mixture of fury and helplessness. "You think I don’t know that?" His voice was hoarse. "But he’s always undermining me. You saw how he spoke to me just now. He thinks I'm weak. The people think I’m weak. And the Praetorians—"

"They are loyal to the throne, not to just your brother," you interrupted gently, cutting off the spiral of doubt before it could take hold. "People have always seen Geta as the better brother," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper now. "The people love him. They always have."

“You are the emperor.” You reminded him.

Dondus was restless on his shoulder. “Nothing was ever mine. Everything was ‘ours’ always. Even in the womb, he gripped the umbilicus in his tiny fist to try to deprive me of air.” He spoke. You gave him a confused look, “and you remembered that?”

“Certainly, one cannot forget.” He said. The childhood rivalry that had shaped their relationship was no secret to you, but hearing it from Caracalla’s lips… “Do you think he still wants to take everything from you?” you asked softly, your thumb gently tracing the back of his hand, as if to anchor him to the present.

“He already has.” Caracalla replied. The bitterness in Caracalla’s voice hung heavy in the air, a silent accusation that was both painful and true. You knew the weight of his words, the torment that had been building up in him for years.

You felt the heat of his anger radiating off him, but also the helplessness that always followed such intensity. It’s almost as his feelings transferred to you. Angry and helplessness. “Caracalla,” you murmured softly, your thumb still tracing the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe him, "you are the emperor. You are the one who holds Rome’s future in your hands. Geta cannot take that from you."

“We had a future but you had to ruin it!” You can always see when the sickness increases within his mind. His eyes started to get somewhat cloudy and you tried your best to not take it to heart but you did, you always did. Dondus had now leaped away from his shoulder and onto the table carefully, avoiding the vases and dagger to pick at more nuts.

You move your hand from his and held his face. “We can always try again.” You tried the best you could to keep it together. He leaned into your hands, seeking something that felt like comfort amidst the chaos in his mind. "I’m not like Geta," he muttered after a long pause, a deep sadness creeping into his voice. "He’s... he’s everything the people want. Everything I’m not."

You shook your head slowly, your fingers brushing through his hair as you gently coaxed him to face you again. Your eyes shifted over to the table Dondus was at now that she started to make a fuss, she could also sense the shift in the air. You felt the cold wind on your hands as Caracalla pulled away and picked up the monkey.

“I never asked for this,” he whispered, almost to himself, but you heard it nonetheless. The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord within you. Together, you stood in the silence, the room filled with nothing but the sound of Dondus softly chattering, and the quiet assurance that, for the moment, the storm inside Caracalla had calmed, even if just a little.

He left without saying a word, leaving you standing there alone in the night. Your eyes lingered on his figured until he was out of sight. The noise from the mob outside, eventually stopped and everything was so very still.

You started to think and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling a chill. Thinking of your wedding day, a couple months ago, even Lucilla’s words, and Geta.

He always seemed to be the problem. Every time you had to deal with Caracalla’s sickness the main point was always Geta. Your eyes flickered to the dagger on the table.

You looked back at the floor,

and back to the table.

“Is this dagger which I see before me…” You mumbled to yourself and trailed off into your thoughts. The dagger on the table gleamed in the dim light. It seemed to glow with the light of Rome itself. The Roman dream.

You walked slowly, your heart beating a little faster as your hand hovered over it.

Pulling back as you heard a bell go off, back to reality. Looking around the room, you were the only one there. Slowly looking back to the dagger as you turned your head. “Will this bring me to Olympus itself?”

Quick to grab the glistening metal. “Or Tartarus?” Whispering in the moonlight.

You moved back hastily ingot the other room before, where you saw Geta staring out the window behind the curtains. Geta turned at the sound of your footsteps, his gaze flicking quickly from the window to you. You had the dagger close to your side but it was dark enough and you knew he could not see it.

Geta’s eyes were fixed on you, but his expression was unreadable—cold, calculating, as always. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with suspicion. He knew you far too well, even in the dim light, and there was no hiding your unease. He could sense it.

Nor did you think about what would happen next. Within a second your hand was about to come down on his face when Geta caught your hand. “You’ve gone too far!” He cried out. "How many times do I have to watch him suffer... while you sit back and wait for him to fail?" Not caring for what he was saying.

“Are you mad?” Geta’s eyes were wide with fear. Nothing could touch you in this moment though. “You’ve both been lost for so long. Can’t you see that? You are just like him and you hate it! Cursed twins flames. You are the wander of this place!”

You acted on the force and drove the dagger up instead of down, it cut him right over his face and he clutched his face. His words were laced with both fury and desperation. “You bitch!” He yelled and stumbled back. He was bleeding all over, going down his clothes and onto the floor. The room seemed to freeze around you, your breath quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t think twice and bent down to plunged the knife into his throat, his blood spraying all over you. The anger that had built up in you over the weeks, the months of watching this family torn apart by rivalry, by sickness, by betrayal, it drowned out everything else.

You had always known it would come to this and then it was done.

You sat there for a second. You thought you might start crying or feel some remorse but yet you didn’t. The cold marble floor felt warm as the blood soaked around you as well.

Standing up and looking at the mess you made. You blinked and turned away. For it did not bother to care you, after all you are just like your father.

You stepped away from Geta’s body, moving past the bloodstained floor and into the adjoining room. The cold air that greeted you was a stark contrast to the heat that still simmered beneath your skin. You closed the door behind you, the soft click of the lock the only sound breaking the stillness.

You thought for a minute to go to Lucilla’s room like how you always did. But you couldn’t do that now, could you? She is not your friend and certainly not your mother. Instead you headed to bed like a lost wander in the night.

Not even the god and goddess of Mars and Venus, intertwined could save you now.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 7

Part 6, Part 8

Summary: Death and Lust have a meeting with conflict

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of loss, Spoilers

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

As you walked through the shadowed corridors of the Colosseum, the weight of your past pressed heavily against you. It was the same grand structure, but everything felt different now. The air, thick with the scent of dust and blood, seemed to hold the echoes of your choices—the choices you had made, the betrayals you had committed. The empire was now your home and Caracalla, your husband.

You glanced at the stands, where the dust from the crowd seemed to hang in the air, like the weight of your own guilt. The bloodshed in the arena had always been a spectacle for the people, but now it felt like a reflection of your soul—messy, violent, and far too far gone to repair.

You didn’t dare to look next to you as Lucilla was sitting in a chair. Cuffed in chains, pleading to let her husband live and be let out of the arena. The chains clinked with each movement, a constant reminder of her fall from grace.

You had once called her a mother of sorts, someone who had guided you, shown you the ropes of this brutal court. Now, you had traded that affection for a place at Caracalla’s side. The one you to whom love.

“For his treason against the lives of the Emperors and the Roman state… An enemy of the people.” The master of Ceremonies called out, signaling the start of the game today.

You saw the gladiator, Lucius step out into the sun bleached sand, the crowed loved him. His towering figure cast a long shadow across the arena as he stood tall, his broad chest rising and falling with each breath. He did indeed look like his mother, you saw it in him.

“From the vanquished city of Numidia, the victor of three contests in the Colosseum — the barbarian Hanno!” That is what they called him. They could never know the truth of it all.

On the other side another man was brought out. “Will challenge General Justus Acacius for his treasons against the lives of the Emperors and the enemy of the state.” Lucllia son would have to fight her husband. All because of you.

Lucilla’s pleading voice echoed in your ears, “whatever birth right I have it is yours-“ “Too late.” Emperor Geta had cut her off and quick. He was ready to see the game unfold and not listen to a pleading mother’s voice.

“—the Roman traitor, or the barbarian hero? Let the gods decide who will survive this contest.” The master of ceremonies finally finished his speech, letting the bloody battle that was about to begin unfold. But today, it was different. This was no longer just a game. It was personal.

Lucius raised his sword, charging at Acacius. He also hefts his sword and charged onwards as well. The clash of steel against steel rang out across the arena, drowning out the roar of the crowd.

“Acacius is a bull of a man. He may yet send that barbarian to the underworld.” Geta spoke out, he leaned against his chair.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the combatants, even though every part of you screamed to look away, to turn your gaze elsewhere. But where else could you go? Your love always seemed to pull you back to place no matter what.

In the arena blow, Lucius and Acacius clashed with a ferocity. The general splits Lucius wooden shield, sending him back a bit and off balance. He charges forward anyways towards Acacius, unprotected this time trying to aim for his head.

The flat end of his sword, Lucius was able to catch Acacius broadside of his head. It sends him down a bit, catching him off guard as his helmet comes off and he drops his sword. The crowd's roar grew louder, a chaotic symphony of excitement and bloodlust.

Lucius stood over the fallen general, his chest heaving with exertion. Across the sand, Acacius stirred, shaking off the shock of the blow, his hand grasping for the sword he had dropped. He was a seasoned warrior, but he couldn’t stand for a man trying to survive. Instead the general raises his hand in surrender.

“Acacius has raised his hand! He surrenders!” You hear the announcement be called overhead. Though, the crowd goes silent. So do you, only hearing the pounding heartbeat inside your chest. You looked up and saw both Caracalla and Geta rise to address the people.

“Romans what do you say?” Geta shouts. You could hear the faint murmur of the crowd, their mixed emotions swirling in the dust-filled air. Lucius stood like a towering figure above Acacius, sword still raised but his body taut with uncertainty. The question had been posed, but the answer was unclear.

Some people chanted “Mercy!” Others shouted in a cry out, “Kill him!” You looked to Caracalla. His gaze met yours, cold and calculating. He was watching to see what you would do, he knew you better than anyone else.

Geta stood beside him, raising his fist. He holds it out in midair. There is silence as he waits for the ‘gods justice’ from high above. “The gods have rendered their judgment.”

He turns it over and gives a ‘thumbs down.’

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, their voices a twisted chorus of approval and bloodlust. Lucius's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Acacius, the man who was now, in essence, a condemned soul. The sun seemed to burn hotter.

“Lucius!” You hear Lucilla yell out, but it was helpless. Yet, her son looked up and tossed his sword to the side.

The crowd, stunned by the unexpected turn, fell into a tense silence. Geta’s face darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. Caracalla was no making a thumb’s down as well, “Kill him! Kill him!” He yelled.

You felt Lucllia gaze watch over you. She knew you had the power to stop all of this but you did not. She knew. She always knew, and yet, her faith in you had crumbled long ago, like everything else in your life.

“You were once a mother too.” She whispered. You turned to her at that, you had vowed to yourself to never bring up that moment again. “How dare you bring that into this.” You snapped back at her. The venom in your words seemed to hang in the air like poison, but it didn’t deter her.

You turned away, your heart beating loudly in your chest, drowning her out.

“Is this how Rome treats its people?” The gladiator cried out from below. “If this life has no value, what are yours worth.” You could see the two emperors getting more upset every second.

“The gods have spoken!” Geta called out in reply. It was a standoff and a ripple of excitement ran through everyone in the stands. One of the brothers closest allies whispered something in Geta’s ear that you could not hear.

“Kill him!”

The archers that surrounded everyone drew their arrows. Though the Centurions hesitate for a moment before Geta says something again. “In the name of Jupiter— kill him!” They release the arrows… striking Acacius right in the chest.

Time seemed to stop right there and then. What did you just do?

More and move arrows flew to his body. One after another. Lucius sunk down to his knees, most likely waiting for an arrow that would kill him. None did come for him though. The crowd’s roar had turned into an eerie hush, their bloodlust suddenly soured by the realization of what had just happened.

The arena was too quiet. Geta and Caracalla look at each other uncomfortably, you just starred at the floor in front of you. Hearing Lucllia’s tears break through her voice. “Damn you to the fire, forever.”

Your husband turned around quickly, “first you’ll get your turn in the pit!” He shouted at her. You could tell he was frightened, the crowd was still lingering in its silence. No one moved for a couple of seconds but the Praetorian started to lead everybody out of the Emperors box before fights started to break out.

———

“We’ve should’nt had killed him.” You said, back in the palace. You clutched your fingers close to your mouth, as you view over the city of Rome in the afternoon.

Caracalla’s voice cut through your reverie. He was standing behind you, the sound of his shoes on the marble floor making your pulse quicken. His tone was low, dangerous. "You're regretting it, aren't you? You’ve tasted your own betrayal now."

“No I’m not I just—“ You had no idea what you were going to say. You did this all for him. Turning slowly, you finally faced him and took his hand into yours and sighed.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he murmured, his voice low and unsettlingly calm. “I’ve seen it in your eyes. I’ve seen that moment of hesitation, that flicker of doubt. I know you better than anyone.”

“I did it for you,” you finally whispered, as though the words could somehow absolve the ache that was twisting in your chest. “I thought I could do it for us—for Rome.”

He moved his hand from your hand to your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet the weight of it felt like a silent accusation. You closed your eyes, the bitter taste of regret still lingering on your tongue. "I don't know anymore," you whispered, barely audible, the truth slipping out despite yourself. "I don't know what I’m doing anymore."

"You're not the only one, you know," he murmured, his fingers still resting against your skin. You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he leaned in and kissed you.

You flinched at the kiss, though you didn’t pull away. After a second you leaned into him more passionately. The familiar taste of his mouth, warm and urgent, stirred something inside you. He needed more of you and you needed more of him.

You could feel Caracalla's hands grip you tighter, pulling you closer as though he could erase all doubts with his touch. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat against yours, a reminder that despite the violence, the treachery, and the choices you had made, you were still bound to him, body and soul.

The kiss deepened, and for a fleeting moment, his hands trailing down your body and feeling all your curves when you pulled away. Caracalla's grip on you had not loosened, as he held onto your waist. You could not read him in this very moment nor tell what he was thinking.

“I do know that I love you.” You said to him. Caracalla's eyes softened for just a moment, "Do you?" His voice was quiet, almost tender, yet the question seemed to carry the weight of the entire empire. His hands, still resting on your waist, tightened just a fraction as if testing whether you truly meant those words.

You searched his eyes, trying to find the man you once knew—the one who whispered sweet promises into your ear before the bloodshed began and that moment, the one who held you in public, as if you were a goddess to him. “How could I not?”

And yet, as Caracalla’s hand lingered on your body, you still felt the pull toward him. The love you had for him wasn’t gone, but it was changing. It was suffocating. You didn’t know if you could survive in this world he was crafting, in this empire of blood and ash.

“You were always mine,” he said softly, his voice low and almost dangerous. “And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

You backed up, his hands softly leaving your body as you turned to look over the railing to see all of Rome in its glory. It was at your feet, what would your father have said? You remembered your wedding day and how he opposed it… yet he wanted you to be happy most of all.

The wind carried the distant hum of Rome, the faint echo of a city still alive. “You look so distant,” Caracalla’s tone was soft but sharp, like the edge of a blade. He was watching you closely, sensing the unraveling of something within you.

Were you happy?

Yes you had to be. Yes you are. The sound of Caracalla footsteps had faded away when he left the balcony, leaving you alone with your thoughts that attacked your mind. It seemed like everyday you were becoming more like him, but you turned him into what he is now. You still blame yourself for what had happened.

You breathed deeply, watching as the birds flew past in the sky, the way the bells rung and children laughing in the street. It was almost like you were young again as your mother read you a story about the gods or the great Achilles. You did not miss it.

You turned away and headed back inside, your fingers grazing over the stone as you left as well.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 6

Part 5, Part 7

Summary: A flashback to the past, a dream of some kind.

Warnings: Reader has sad internal conflict

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

“It’s great to see you again, Lucilla.” Your father had said warmly.

“It is good to see you as well,” she clasped her hands together and smiled. “It’s a shame, I know you were close with Severus but I’m sure his sons will be great rulers.”

Your father nodded slowly, the faintest sigh escaping his lips. "Yes, Severus was a great man. He left behind more than just his legacy. His sons... they will carry it well."

“And I’ve seen you brought your daughter as well.” She looked down towards you. “It’s great to see you again.” You managed a small smile and nodded. “It’s good to see you again as well, Lady Lucilla.”

Her gaze softened, though there was a touch of curiosity in her eyes as they lingered on you. "You’ve grown," she said, her voice full of quiet affection, though it also carried the weight of unspoken histories. "The years have a way of shaping us, don’t they?"

It was true, you’ve noticed the way men had laid eyes on you more. More taller and leaner. You had curves that were there not once before.

Your father had placed a hand on your shoulder, “well best not be late for the coronation.”

Lucilla’s gaze flickered for just a moment to your father, then back to you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Of course, you’re right. Time waits for no one.”

Your father gave a firm nod, his expression set and resolute as he turned towards the grand hall. "We’ll take our leave, Lucilla. The crown waits for no one, as you said." His voice held a quiet authority, the weight of his own responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders.

Lucilla’s smile remained, but there was a softness to her features as she studied you one last time. "It’s a different world we live in now," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else, before turning to face your father with renewed composure. "Until then."

As you followed your father down the grand hall of the capital where the throne room was laid. Your father walked ahead, his strides long and purposeful, and you felt a fleeting pang of guilt for not yet comprehending the complexities of your family’s past.

Lucilla had known you as a child, and now, she looked at you as though you had become something else entirely—something that both unsettled and intrigued her.

You paused for a moment, catching your reflection in one of the ornate mirrors lining the hall. You saw yourself now, the girl that had just betrayed the woman you saw as a mother… but when you looked down it was younger you, again. The girl you once were seemed distant now, swallowed by the young woman you had become. The years had indeed changed you, not just physically, but in ways that went deeper than skin.

"Are you coming?" Your father’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you quickly hurried to catch up, trying to push the odd sensation of being seen in a new way out of your mind.

You reached the door to the throne room, where several guards stood at attention. Your father nodded at them, a gesture of quiet authority, and they opened the doors before you both

The grand hall seemed to stretch on endlessly, its high ceilings and polished stone floors. In awe by it all but your father did not seem to care. He had seen it so much, being close to the last emperor but he never brought you all along. Why should he? You were born a daughter.

It was a strange thing to walk in the shadow of your father, knowing that he belonged to a world that had never truly seen you as its equal.

The room was filled with murmurs as the procession began to move forward. “You must be on your best behavior today.” He looked down at you, “make me proud would you?” You nodded, though a small knot tightened in your chest at his words. You always knew what you were born to do and what your brothers were born to do.

As you made your way to the front of the hall, the murmurs of the crowd grew louder, and you could feel the weight of their gaze. You were here not just as your father’s daughter but as something else entirely, a pawn.

“Is that who I think it is?” You heard a voice in a lower tone. Your father turned and laughed, giving him a firm handshake. “Acacius.”

You had remembered that name. Your father came home happy one day… he had helped him become General of the Roman Army.

He looked every bit the part of the seasoned warrior. His face was weathered, with the sharp lines of age and experience etched into his features. His eyes, though, were sharp and calculating.

You hadn’t realized how close the two men had been—more than allies, it seemed, but perhaps friends in a way that didn’t belong in the world of power and titles that surrounded them.

“Ah, ready to see those two boys be in charge of Rome?” The General asked, a little bit of sarcasm inside.

Your father chuckled softly, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "It’s not about who’s ready, but who’s been chosen.”

You watched the two men banter. The conversation felt like an unspoken agreement between the men. You had no room here to speak on politics.

“Geta and Caracalla. Have you seen them lately? Looking more like their father everyday.” Acacius remarked.

The murmurs in the hall grew louder as more nobles and dignitaries arrived. You could feel their eyes on you, the daughter of a man who was both feared and respected, but never fully trusted in the way one would trust a son.

Acacius' voice snapped you back from your thoughts. “They may look like Severus, but they don’t yet know what it takes to wear that crown. Their father did—he understood the empire, the politics, the power plays.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the young men who were being ushered toward the front. "It will be interesting to see if they can live up to that legacy. Let’s pray that they don’t end up becoming Commodus though.”

Your father's face hardened slightly at the mention of Commodus. He was emperor before Severus, you were too young to remember though.

You glanced toward the twins, Geta and Caracalla, who were making their way to the front of the hall. They were tall, their faces handsome in that way that only youth could claim, but there was something sharp about the way they moved, something reminiscent. Your eyes lingered on one of them.

Acacius muttered, his voice thick with a mix of skepticism and experience. "But it’s never the first few years that break an emperor. It’s when they think they’ve got it all figured out. That’s when it gets dangerous."

You glanced at your father, unsure of what he thought of the General's assessment. He was always so controlled, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty?

"Don’t concern yourself with them," your father said, his voice softer now, directed at you. "Their fate is not ours to decide."

You glanced back toward Geta and Caracalla, watching as they spoke among themselves, a mix of confidence and impatience in their eyes.

Suddenly a monkey had popped up onto one of their shoulders that made you smile. You had never seen a monkey before.

The monkey swung its tail playfully, drawing a few amused glances from the nobles nearby, though the twins themselves barely seemed to notice, their focus fixed on the proceedings ahead.

Your father, noticing the flicker of interest in your eyes, gave you a quick, almost imperceptible glance. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something about his tight-lipped smile that hinted at a deeper understanding of the game unfolding around you.

Your father had always told you to keep your head down, to let your brothers take the spotlight. But Lucilla's words, the way she looked at you, made you question if you were truly as invisible as you’d been told.

You kept staring at the twins. Watching one of them feed the baby monkey nuts and grapes that was on his shoulder.

General Acacius must of had saw you staring at the twins. “Shall I introduce you to the new emperors?” You turned to him, surprised by the directness of his suggestion. "Introduce me?" you repeated, almost as if you were testing the idea out loud.

Your father’s hand subtly tightened on your shoulder, a quiet signal to tread carefully. "You don’t have to," your father murmured, his voice low and restrained, yet firm. It was an offer to decline, to stay in the background as you'd always been taught.

"I think..." You hesitated, unsure of how far you wanted to go in this game. "I think it would be interesting to meet them," you said, the words escaping before you could stop them.

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything more. Acacius nodded with a knowing look. "Very well." He beckoned you forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, you found yourself walking toward the twins.

Acacius cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Gentlemen," he said with a hint of a smile, "allow me to introduce you to the daughter of your father’s old ally.” As Acacius spoke, the twins turned toward you, their expressions guarded but polite, a mix of curiosity and the weight of expectation clouding their youthful features.

The one with the monkey on his shoulder—Caracalla, you assumed from the slight difference in their features—gave you a half-smile, as if sizing you up in the same way one might appraise a new piece of property.

“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” he said, though the tone was too neutral to reveal any true warmth.

His twin, Geta, stood a little further back, his posture more relaxed, though the sharpness in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. He gave you a more genuine smile, though it still carried the weight of expectation. “A pleasure,” he echoed, his voice softer but with a hint of curiosity.

The monkey on Caracalla’s shoulder seemed to sense the shift in attention and, in a sudden burst of energy, swung down to your outstretched hand, where it briefly perched, eyeing you with an almost mischievous look. You giggled.

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It seems your smile is contagious,” he said dryly, though there was a glimmer of something more beneath his controlled exterior.

You felt the warmth of the moment, a brief connection, even if it was fleeting, but you quickly composed yourself.

Geta watched the exchange closely, his gaze shifting between you and his brother, as if measuring the weight of the conversation. His expression softened slightly, and he spoke with an ease that made you feel as though you might just be more than a political pawn in this game. "I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before, have we?" he asked, his tone inviting.

“No, I don’t believe so,” you replied, the words feeling more casual than you intended. You had felt comfortable, they were your age after all.

There was a brief silence before Caracalla, still with that calculating look in his eyes, leaned in slightly, his voice low. "I suppose that means we’re strangers. But not for long, I imagine."

You couldn’t tell if it was a challenge, a flirtation, or simply the politics of the moment playing out before your eyes. Either way, the words hung in the air and couldn’t help but smile.

"Indeed," you replied, a bit more composed than before, but still aware of the game being played. "Strangers, but not for long."

The little monkey that was on your arm had now leaped back onto Caracalla shoulder.

You felt a subtle tug at your own sense of place. Lucilla’s gaze earlier had reminded you of what you were—what you could be.

Now you stood in front of the two future emperors of Rome. Caracalla eyes still lingering on you. “Dundus has seen to take a liking to you.”

“Seems so,” you replied, choosing lightness over the weight of the moment. "Perhaps Dundus has good taste.”

Caracalla’s expression softened just a fraction, his eyes glimmering with a faint amusement, though it was hard to tell if it was directed at you or the situation as a whole. “A woman with wit,” he observed, his voice low and tinged with a sharp edge. "You’ll fit in well in this court."

You couldn’t help but blush at his words. "I’ll do my best to keep up," you said, offering a smile that felt like it might crack under the weight of your thoughts.

“I’m sure you are.” Geta said, breaking the silence that lay between you three.

Caracalla, his gaze still lingering on you, straightened his posture. "Perhaps we’ll have more opportunities to... get to know each other."

Your heart fluttered at Caracalla's words, but you quickly masked it with a composed smile. "Perhaps," you replied, your voice steady, though your mind raced. “What opportunities were you thinking?”

Caracalla's smile tightened slightly, his eyes sharpening with a mixture of intrigue and calculation. He seemed to enjoy the delicate tension between you, savoring the power of the moment. "Oh, the usual courtly engagements," he said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of implication. "The kind that allow us to understand one another better, in both word and deed."

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always dreamed of a perfect romance story, the ones your mother would read to you. Maybe Aphrodite had sent him down just for you.

Geta, who had been quiet for a moment, now shifted his posture, as though sensing the dynamics shifting subtly. "There’s no rush," he said, his voice warm yet measured. "We have time for these things." He gave you a genuine, almost reassuring smile, though there was something knowing in his gaze.

Caracalla’s gaze didn’t leave you as he spoke, his voice softening just a fraction, as though the weight of his words were meant only for you. “Time, indeed. But it’s always best to make the most of it, don’t you think?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by your father’s presence, his hand on your shoulder once again, a subtle reminder of your place. “It’s time to move on,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

You glanced back at the twins, both of them still watching you, their expressions unreadable. Dundus, the monkey, now perched on Caracalla’s shoulder, its tail swaying gently, as though the creature too sensed the shifting power dynamics in the room.

With a final, lingering look, you turned away, your father guiding you toward your place in the hall. As you moved forward, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment had been more than a mere introduction. It had been a test, perhaps—a glimpse into a game far more intricate than you had ever imagined.

Your father didn’t speak again, his silence enveloping you as you took your place among the other dignitaries. The ceremony began, but your mind remained far from the crown, far from the weight of imperial power. Instead, it was filled with the twins, with Caracalla’s eyes, and the unsettling realization that the politics of the court were far more complicated than you had ever been told. And, just maybe, you were no longer as invisible as you once thought.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 5

Part 4, Part 6

Summary: You had betrayed the ones they had thought once you cared. (yall did this)

Warnings: Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

"What do you mean?" His voice was low, he pushed himself up, the sheets slipping from his chest as he searched your face, his expression a mixture of concern and suspicion.

"They're planning to break Lucius out of the arena. They think he's still alive." You paused, watching for any reaction from him. The silence that followed hung thick in the air, and Caracalla's jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "Lucius," he repeated the name.

“How did you come to know this?” "Because," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "they believe you trust me." The words felt like a betrayal as they left your lips, and yet, they were the truth. His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, frustration, maybe even a hint of fear.

"Trust," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, as though the word was a weapon he didn’t quite know how to wield. His eyes, once warm and filled with some semblance of affection, now seemed distant, almost guarded. His fingers, which had so often sought out your touch, remained still on the sheets, as if even the simple act of reaching for you might be a betrayal in itself.

You held your breath, unsure of how he would respond, but knowing that what you had just confessed could change everything. His gaze lifted to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, or maybe it was fear.

"I didn't ask for this... for any of this." He rubbed his hand over his face, the motion rough, almost as though he were trying to wipe away the weight of the conversation, the truth of it.

You swallowed, your chest tight. "I didn't either," you replied, your voice trembling despite your best effort to remain composed. "But it's happening. And now you have a choice to make. Do you trust me enough to help stop it, or do you let them believe you’re still their ally?"

Caracalla pulled the sheets closer to his chest. “Tell the guards. Stop them.” He said with a quick haste. You nodded and got up, moving towards the door. As your hand reached for the door, you paused, your fingers brushing the cool metal of the handle.

You turned back slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

"You'll be okay?" you asked, your voice tentative, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

Caracalla’s gaze flickered over you for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it was in a voice that held a surprising calmness, as if he were trying to reassure both of you.

"I’ll be fine. Go." His eyes didn’t meet yours again, and his words felt heavy, almost final, as if the decision had already been made.

You lingered for a beat longer, but then nodded, stepping out of the room. The door clicked shut behind you.

The silence in the hallway felt suffocating as you made your way down the corridor. The Praetorian barely looked up as you entered, the usual indifference etched on their faces. But you could see the shift, the way they straightened when they realized it was you. The wife of the emperor.

One of them, a tall figure with a sharp jaw, stepped forward, lowering his spear slightly as he spoke. “My lady,” he said with a formal bow, his voice carrying the faintest edge of uncertainty, “what brings you here at this hour?”

“General Acacius and Lucllia plan on committing treason this night. They plan on breaking out a gladiator for their own support.” You said.

His gaze flickered to the others, a brief exchange of silent communication passing between them. The air in the corridor grew taut, as though everyone had just realized the gravity of the situation.

“My lady,” the tall Praetorian spoke again, his tone urgent yet measured, “are you certain of this? Can we trust the source of this information?”

You cleared your throat, “yes.” You said sternly and quickly, not going to tell the guards that you were once ‘apart’ of their treasonous plan for a second.

"Understood," the tall Praetorian said, his voice steady, though the edge of authority was now unmistakable. "We will inform the captain and have the necessary measures put in place immediately." He gave you a small but respectful nod, signaling that the gravity of your words had not gone unnoticed.

The click of the Praetorian's boots faded as they hurried down the hallway, their steps carrying the urgency of your message. But even with their departure, the silence seemed to hang in the air longer than before. Was this even you?

You turned on your heel, your eyes briefly falling on the flickering torches lining the walls, casting long shadows across the stone. Every step felt heavier than the last as you made your way toward to the throne room where voices have been heard.

———

“The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you — all this forfeited by your treachery. Thanks to the civic virtue of men and women like Macrinus and the lady here your insurrection has been revealed—“ The emperor Geta was soon cut off, talking to both General Acacius and Lucilla.

“Torture me if you want. But don’t lecture me.” Acacius said, with his hands cuffed around chains.

“Your name and deeds will be forgotten, lost to history. You are damned to oblivion.” Geta snapped back, he hated when he was seen as a lesser power.

Lucilla looked to you across the room, she did not say anything nor did you. Once a friend you had known since childhood all gone and torn to pieces. Only mouthed, ‘your father.” You looked away.

Acacius sneered, despite the chains, his expression unbroken. “You damn me? I don’t care. Everything is forgotten in time. Empires fall. So do emperors and empresses.” That last word sent Caracalla over the edge. He had that same look in his eyes, the same ones when he wanted bloodshed. His fingers flexed at his sides, a subtle but unmistakable sign of restraint.

“Why wait? I’ll gut him right now“ Caracalla called out, grabbing a nearby soliders sword. You stepped back a couple of paces. The rest of the room held their breath. The emperor, Geta, looked as though he were about to intervene and did exactly that.

“Brother! Brother! His death must be public.” He grabbed onto Caracalla, holding him back as he tried to swing his sword at them. You were holding your breath and clutching the fabric of your clothing in the dead of night.

But Caracalla wasn’t listening. His focus remained locked on Acacius, whose smirk never faltered despite the chains binding him. The man was unbroken, mocking even the emperor's words.

“Public yes, Hang his entrails from the city gates!” He yelled and now was pointing his sword over at Lucilla who was still beautiful as ever, even in shackled in chains. “And crucify her! Crucify her!” He yelled over and over again.

“Take them AWAY!” Geta had shouted louder over his brothers outburst.

As the praetorians moved to drag Acacius and Lucilla away, the room seemed to contract, the shadows of the torchlight lengthening like hands reaching for everything that had already been lost.

Caracalla seated himself on the throne and held onto himself, trying not to lose himself. You pick up your dress that flowed behind you and sat yourself down in front of him while Geta was talking to the others about what had just happened.

The tension in the room felt almost suffocating, every word spoken hanging like a heavy cloud over all of you. Caracalla's chest heaved with shallow breaths as he clutched the armrests of the throne, his fingers white with the pressure.

You grabbed his hand and put it between yours. Caracalla’s hand twitched at your touch, his fingers flexing for a moment as if they might pull away, but they didn’t. Instead, he let you hold it, his breath still ragged as his eyes remained fixed ahead, distant.

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, his voice low, strained. “What was it you said? About... trust?”

You swallowed, the words heavy in your throat. “I meant it. I—” You hesitated, unsure if you should finish the sentence. Was this the right moment to remind him? To remind yourself? “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Caracalla’s gaze flickered briefly to your face, and for a second, it was like you could almost see through the walls he had built around himself. His lips pressed together in a tight line, but his grip on your hand tightened, almost imperceptibly.

"You're the only one," he murmured, the words barely audible beneath the cacophony of voices around you. “The only one I trust.”

You looked at him confused and longing when he said that, almost bringing you back to when you had first met him.

Geta's voice rose sharply from across the room, pulling you back into the present. “I will not have this insurrection stain my reign. The punishment will be swift, and it will be harsh. I want him in the arena tomorrow.”

Caracalla’s jaw tightened. He barely seemed to register the emperor’s words, his mind already consumed by the storm of his own thoughts. You looked at him, your thumb gently tracing the back of his hand, grounding him—grounding yourself.

“Caracalla,” you whispered, “whatever happens next, don’t forget who you are. Don’t let them make you forget.”

He leaned forward and put his head on your shoulder. ‘The sickness of his mind’ Geta would call it, it was too much for him right now and couldn’t help your heart. You could feel the tension in his body, the ripple of anger that had once been so sharp now bleeding into something deeper—something almost desperate.

He pulled back slightly, enough to look at you fully, his face illuminated by the flickering torchlight. His expression softened for the briefest of moments, as if he were searching for something—some reassurance, some sign that he wasn’t as lost as he felt.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even after all of this. You’re still here.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you like a promise, like a vow you had made long ago. “I’m not going anywhere, Caracalla. Not unless you push me away.”

His fingers twitched, the smallest movement that still carried so much meaning. He didn’t speak, but for the first time in what felt like ages, since… then. That you might had it in you to be able to care and love him again, as you did once before.

But then, as the voices of the court began to rise again, as Geta’s orders were being put into motion, the reality of the situation crashed back down. The fate of Acacius and Lucilla, the punishment, the public spectacle—all of it was about to unfold.

[tori111777]

I’m almost done with chapter 5 but this poll would be for chapter 6 which is going to be a flashback scene though you guys can pick but remember your actions have consequences!!

Which ever one you guys pick will play out further into the story.

Flashback scene

Your wedding day

When you first meet Caracalla

A week before the events of gladiator 2

Lucilla’s conversation + messages

Voting ended onDec 9, 2024

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 4

Part 3, Part 5

Summary: Secret late night talks are being said

Warnings: Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

The night was restless as you could not fall asleep. You husband had slept with you tonight, not leaving your side since the attack that had happened earlier today.

It felt nice having him next to you for once, you didn’t want to wake him up though, just watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed peacefully. You traced the lines of his face with your eyes. It was oddly peaceful, but also a reminder of how fragile everything felt in that moment.

Maybe you did start to care for him a bit, whether you would admit that to yourself or not.

“Caracalla.” You whispered his name ever so faintly that he wouldn’t wake up. His name hung in the air between you like a fragile thread. You let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, unsure of what you were feeling—torn between the weight of the day’s events and the growing warmth that seemed to blossom in your chest whenever you thought of him.

You brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt intimate, yet so simple, as if everything could change with just that small touch.

Just then you heard a knock on the door that made you jump. You turned to see if Caracalla had woken up but he shifted slightly in his sleep, his body instinctively leaning toward you, as if drawn to the warmth of your presence. He didn't wake.

You pulled the sheets away ever so carefully and wrapped you arms around yourself, feeling your silk dress that you always wore to bed. Your feet brushing against the cold stone floor. Your hand hovered over the door’s handle, a rush of uncertainty flooding your chest. Hesitant to open but you did so anyways, the guards outside your doors wouldn’t just let nobody here.

The door creaked as you turned the handle, the sound sharp and loud in the stillness of the night. “Lucilla.” You let out a sigh seeing her. “I came to make sure you were alright?” She asked. Her eyes, soft and searching, scanned your face. She had always been able to read you better than anyone else.

You blinked a few times, still adjusting to the dim light in the hallway, and let the door swing open a little wider. Lucilla stepped forward, her presence both comforting and unsettling in the quiet of the night.

“Would it be better if he spoke at my place?” She looked around, “a place with no ears?”

——

“He’s been with you… since the attack?” Lucilla asked quietly, her voice gentle but probing. You were now sitting in a beautiful area in a courtyard. You slipped on something more appropriate even if it was in the dead of night.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at first. “He hasn’t left my side. I think... I think I’m starting to understand why.”

“I thought so. He’s not the kind of man who stays unless he has a reason.” Lucilla husband, Marcus Acacius had said as well. Though, you were not so sure why he was there.

Lucilla’s eyes softened further, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something older in her gaze, something she rarely allowed to show. “Perhaps he finally sees you. Not just as someone in need of protection, but as someone worth fighting for.”

You had spent so long building walls around yourself, protecting your heart from the unpredictable nature of men like Caracalla. How could you let him in now if you threw away the key?

“Which is why we wanted to tell you something…” General Acacius said looking to Lucilla then back to you. Lucilla glanced at her husband, her expression shifting as she prepared to say something important. She wasn’t one to mince words, but even she seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

“There’s a matter of trust," she began carefully. “Can we trust you?” The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “Trust is... hard to come by,” you said quietly, your voice a little less steady than you would’ve liked. “Not just with anyone, but especially after today.”

“I understand,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Trust is a delicate thing, especially in times like these.” The distant hum of night insects and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds, and in that moment, you realized how small and fragile you truly felt, standing between two people who knew far more about loyalty and betrayal than you ever had.

“Yes.” You said firmly, “yes, you can trust me.”

Lucilla’s hand found yours, warm and steady. The gold bracelets on her arms clanked together. “The gladiator in the arena these past days… do you know who he is?”

You shook your head slightly, “no.”

"The gladiator," she began slowly, choosing her words with care, “the gladiator is Lucius.”

You blinked in surprise, he was thought to be dead after all these years. The one who had been causing so much buzz in the arena recently. It could not be him, surely… "Lucius?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The night air suddenly felt colder, more oppressive. “Your son?”

Lucilla nodded, the weight of her words hanging heavily between you both. Her fingers tightened around yours, a silent plea for understanding, as if she were preparing herself for the emotional turbulence that was sure to follow.

“But the man in the arena is not the boy who left. He’s changed, hardened by the years, by what he’s endured.” Her voice wavered slightly, as though the emotions tied to her son’s fate were still too raw.

You tried to process this new information, the weight of it all pressing against your chest. "But why keep this from me?" The question tumbled out of you before you could stop it.

“Because we did not know.” The general answered slowly. You looked at the ground then up slowly. “Wouldn’t he be the prince of Rome then?” It was the truth, he should’ve been heir. “Is this why it has to do with Caracalla?”

“Sort of the kind.” Acacius said. “We are going to break him out. Tonight. We need your help so the Emperors don’t find out.” For a long moment, you remained silent, processing the magnitude of the situation.

“This is treason.” You spoke out. "It is, yes," she said quietly, her voice laced with a painful honesty. "But we don’t see it as betrayal, not to Rome. To our family, you family, it is a chance at redemption. Think of your father.”

His reappearance could change everything, especially if he were to reveal his true identity. "Why come to me?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. "Why trust me with something like this? You know what could happen if this gets out."

Acacius looked at you with a grim understanding in his eyes. "Because you're the key. We believe that Caracalla... cares for you, more than he’s willing to admit. He trusts you. With that, if anything gets out you can cover.”

“And Geta?” You asked them, still unsure. “He’ll believe his brother.” The general replied. You swallowed, looking between the two of them. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one more conflicting than the last.

"I don’t know what to do," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. The uncertainty in your chest was unbearable. "Alright," you finally said, the words escaping your lips almost before you could fully comprehend what they meant.

Lucilla let out a small, relieved breath, but General Acacius did not seem quite as sure. His eyes never left you, studying you intently, as if trying to read the depth of your decision.

“It won’t be easy," he said, his voice low and firm. "You’ll have to keep your distance from Caracalla—he can’t know about this. We’ll need to move fast. If we can’t get him out by dawn, it’s over.”

The escape of Lucius, the survival of Caracalla, and the fate of Rome itself now rested in your hands.

“I’ll head back, if Caracalla asks any questions, don’t worry about it.” You gave a reassuring smile to them.

As you made your way back to the chambers, your heart was heavy with the weight of what you had just agreed to. The silence in the hallway felt unnervingly loud as you approached your room. You could see the soft glow of the candlelight still flickering under the door, and for a moment, you hesitated.

You opened the door gently, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled in the room. Caracalla was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his form a comforting presence in the dim light. The way he had instinctively turned toward you in his sleep—the way his body seemed to seek yours even in rest—made your heart tighten.

You closed the door softly behind you, locking it with a quiet click. Your steps were measured as you returned to the bed, your eyes lingering on Caracalla's face for just a moment longer. He had no idea of the storm you were about to become a part of.

Your hand reached for his, the coolness of your fingers brushing against his warm skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Caracalla.” You called out to him, waking him up. “Caracalla.”

Caracalla stirred slowly at the sound of his name, his brow furrowing as his eyes fluttered open. The dim light from the candle by the bed cast soft shadows across his face, and for a moment, he simply blinked at you, still lost in the haze between sleep and waking.

“Lucilla and Acacius are planning on committing treason.”

Authors note: you guys are so loyal to your man I was kinda hoping you all would pick Lucilla but I’ll give the people what they want

[tori111777]

Would you guys care for chapter 4 if you teamed up with Caracalla or Lucilla??

Caracalla

Lucilla

Surprise me

Voting ended onDec 6, 2024

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 3

Part 2, Part 4

Summary: The second day of the games had begun, chaos stirring in the process of it all.

Warnings: Violence, Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

He lead you inside the Colosseum. It was huge, and yet so beautiful. It had reminded you of when you first saw the capital with your father. Every detail crafted oh so carefully. It was indeed a Roman beauty, a Roman dream. Caracalla held onto your fingers more than your whole hand. His fingers were soft and you could tell he was nor a fighter or a worker.

He seemed more eager, more excited. He could taste the blood that was about the be shed soon enough.

Guards were watching your every move, making sure everything was in orders. They stood as if they were the statues carved outside of the building. Eyes always watching.

People bowed their heads as you walked by, making you feel important and powerful. Most of all feeding into your husbands hunger… until finally you two were at the emperors box.

The emperor's box was elevated, offering a clear, commanding view of the arena below, where gladiators would soon battle for their lives. The marble pillars gleamed in the sunlight, and the rich Roman fabrics hanging down from the railings only served to emphasize the grandeur of the moment.

You gave a smile to the people around, and sat yourself down in front of Marcus Acacius, next to him being the people’s delight, Lucilla. Lucilla, ever the diplomat, smiled warmly at you. She was the perfect image of Roman beauty, poised and polished, a delicate flower amongst the steel of the court.

You could tell everybody was anxious and anticipating for the second day of the games to start. Caracalla, as always, exuded an intensity that could not be ignored. The second he saw the arena he seemed like a different person, a stranger you didn’t know.

It was in his nature—a ruler with the soul of a conqueror, always craving more power, more control, more dominance. But he was no conqueror though. He hid and cried… he was just human.

The crowd’s murmurs faded as the games began and the announcer jumped out before you with his words. A horn had gone off and into the arena there were two massive ships inside, one with the Roman’s and the other the Barbarians from the generals last conquest.

The arena had been transformed into a miniature sea, the vast sand floor now replaced with a shimmering expanse of water. The two ships, each brimming with men ready to fight, stood across from one another like titans waiting for the inevitable clash. The crowd erupted into cheer, the air thick with excitement and anticipation, but you could see it in Caracalla’s eyes—this was his moment, his desire realized.

Lucilla’s soft voice broke through the growing tension. "The people hunger for this," you overheard her say to her husband next to her, her tone serene but carrying an undercurrent of knowing. "It’s what gives them purpose. The games, the bloodshed... it’s what holds this empire together, or so they say."

The ships moved faster each second towards each other, until the barbarian ship turned last second and destroyed the Romans oar, not being able to steer. The crowd gasped, a collective murmur of shock rippling through the Colosseum.

Caracalla leaned back into his chair more and smiled, showing off his one golden tooth as he watched the arena play out in front of him.

Each men from both ships hopped onto another and started to fight viciously. Hungry animals in the wild looking for something to eat. The sounds of clashing metal, the splashes of water, and the roars of the crowd blended into a strange, almost hypnotic symphony. The brutal nature of the games was something you had grown accustomed to, the violence and spectacle no longer shocking but expected.

You looked around, you saw Lucilla staring intensely at the games. You had never seen her so interested before. You almost looked back twice at her. It wasn’t the same look your husband has. No. You had never seen this look on her before, nor anyone for that matter.

You watched as she clenched her hands, her nails digging into the armrest of her seat. Her lips, slightly parted, looked as though they were tracing every strike, every fall, every splash of blood. There was no fear, no hesitation in her face. Just pure, unbridled focus.

The clash in the arena intensified. Men from both sides fought with desperation, their life, everything, depended on this moment for them.

“Do you think this will end soon?” Lucilla’s voice, soft yet steady, cut through the chaos around you. You turned to her, surprised at the calmness with which she spoke.

“They’ll fight until there’s nothing left to fight for,” you replied back, facing at an angle to talk to her. It felt like the only honest answer. “But I don’t think it will end. Not yet.”

You glanced back down at the arena, where the violence continued unabated, and for the first time, the cheers of the crowd felt hollow, distant. Then, Lucilla said something again, you leaned your head forward a lot to hear when an arrow shot right by your head and into your chair.

People screamed, the emperor’s screamed. You had no idea what happened until you felt the gust of wind fly past and right by your ear when you saw the arrow. You did not scream though.

You heard Emperor Geta yell something as he sunk into his chair but you couldn’t make it out. You felt General Acacius take your hand and rushed you out of the box. You didn’t know where Caracalla was. Everything happened so fast.

You heard the frantic orders barked in all directions. His grip on your hand was firm, pulling you through the maze of guards and attendants who scrambled to secure the perimeter.

"Stay close," Acacius muttered, his voice low but urgent. His eyes scanned the hallway, ever watchful, as though expecting another strike at any moment. More guards started to pile up scatter around. One of them joined the general of leading you out.

Where was Caracalla? Where was Lucilla?

The question was answered almost immediately as you rounded a corner and saw him, his figure unmistakable even in the midst of the confusion. He was standing, his back rigid, surrounded by a group of guards, his eyes wild with fury.

His gaze flicked toward you, and for a brief moment. “I want whoever did that, DEAD!” He yelled, which surprised you. But it made you wonder if he was doing this out of love or love for blood.

"We don't know yet, my lord," Acacius replied. "We are still securing the perimeter. The guards are investigating the source."

“I want all of them dead! I don’t care!” He demanded and some Roman soldiers scattered. Lucilla and Geta had soon appeared and she ran over and took your arm. “Are you okay?” She asked, her face full of concern.

You stared at her with a longing look. She had said the one thing you had wanted to hear from Caracalla and yet, she said it to easily. A nervous smile appeared on your face and nodded at her. The arrow had been so close—its sharp, sudden arrival had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

Lucilla squeezed your arm gently, guiding you through the chaos. She had taken the reins, effortlessly becoming the calm center in a storm of madness. “It’s all right,” she murmured again, though the underlying tension in her voice spoke of something more. “They’ll find the culprit. We’ll be safe soon.”

You had stopped walking with her though, “they all think it was a barbarian… but what if it wasn’t.” Lucilla looked more worried than you in that very moment. “Let’s pray so.”

You had seen that look before—the one where she watched and weighed every word, every move.

Caracalla’s anger burned, but Lucilla's calm was a cold comfort. You didn’t know which of them you feared more anymore.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 2

Part 1, Part 3

Summary: conversations about and with your husband, Caracalla right before the second day of the games.

Warnings: spoilers of gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

You had awaken alone in your bed to the early morning light. You stretched beneath the covers, feeling the cool sheets where Caracalla had not lain with you last night, his absence pressing into you with the same weight as the silence that filled the room.

It was a morning like so many others, you got up and got ready. It wasn’t unusual for your husband to sleep in other places when he got upset the night prior or when his mind became too strong.

As your servant was doing your hair, putting into beautiful braids and adding golden leaves you stared at the empty spot of the bed. It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did right not, it has never bothered you before.

As the last braid was pinned in place, the golden leaves catching the early light, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The woman was beautiful, of course she was, she was you. Of noble brith and high ranking in Ancient Rome. You are the Roman dream. Yet you also saw you as a girl.

The door swung open and you saw that it was Emperor Geta. It was either him or Caracalla as no such person could open a noble women’s door without asking. He was a familiar face, but also one that carried the weight of his own ambitions.

"Emperor Geta," you greeted him. "I hope I am not intruding," Geta said as he stepped into the room, the sharp click of his sandals on the marble floor accentuating the silence.

"You are not intruding, my lord," you replied with a small bow of your head, a gracious smile curling your lips.

“I’ve come to see if you are ready for the games today. My brother should have been here by now to lead you away.” He seemed a bit concerned about it by pursing his lips a bit. “I am sure he will be here in time soon enough.” You gave a smile of reinsurance to him.

His unease seemed genuine, though his eyes lingered on you a little longer than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t unusual for brothers like him and Caracalla to be at odds, but you did not expect the Emperor himself to arrive at your chambers in his place.

Geta's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. "Do you miss him, my lady?" His tone was light, almost playful, but the way his eyes fixed on you felt more intent than playful. You could feel the shift in the air—the way he suddenly filled the space between you both. It made you uneasy, the two emperors have always been… something.

"I’ve grown accustomed to his late night walks," you replied, your voice cool and collected.

"Of course," Geta said, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer. "But you should know that my brother is... difficult to read, even for me." You tilted your head slightly, not quite trusting the shift in tone. "I know him well enough." You didn’t say too well, though that was the truth.

"And yet," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "even you must admit that you don't always understand him. Not entirely." He paused, letting the silence stretch between you. "And that can be... unsettling, can't it?" He was trying to see how much you could reveal about his brother. How much he could use against him.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the dressing table, though your expression remained unyielding. "I understand him well enough to know that his moods can change like the seasons," you replied, meeting his gaze evenly. "But there are things even the gods themselves cannot control."

He stepped back a couple of paces, his hands folded together in front of him. "True," he murmured. "Even the gods are at mercy of fate."

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon,” you said again, though your voice was tinged with something less certain this time. “I will leave you to your preparations. Caracalla will surely be along shortly.” He made a show of bowing his head, a mock gesture of deference, before turning to leave.

You watched the servant outside your door close it behind him and suddenly a wave of fresh air had come into the room, even if the window was closed. The room now silent as only you stood there and could only hear your breathing.

Your mind swirled. You knew Caracalla had always been restless, but last night was different. There had been something raw in him and maybe even something raw in you for trying to help him. But what did you truly know of him, of his mind?

The second day of the games would be held later today in preparation of getting it ready as they needed to fill up the colosseum with water. Though if Caracalla didn’t lead you out to the area today it would not only be an embarrassment for you but to him as well.

And now Geta’s appearance only added another layer to the puzzle. The way his eyes lingered, the way his tone shifted with that subtle, almost imperceptible playfulness—What was his motive behind it all?

It wouldn’t be until minutes later of being left alone in your mind that the door would soon open again. You sat in a comfortable chair, facing out into the streets of Rome like how you always did.

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The presence, though always commanding, was unmistakable—Caracalla.

When he entered, the light from the window caught the edge of his dark tunic, he was wearing black today, seeing from the reflection of the window. A symbol of death, but of course he didn’t know it meant death.

"I see you're ready for the games," he said, his words almost detached, as though he were speaking to a stranger. "Yes," you replied without turning. "Are you well?"

You saw his reflection twitch, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he took a step closer, closer than you anticipated. "I’m fine," he said, but there was something in his tone that didn’t match the word.

You looked back to him and saw that he was right behind you. He did indeed look fine, his makeup being done, all of his gold glistening, and his clothes all neatly and tightly worn around his body.

You felt the need to give him a smile of somewhat. Last night conversation was left off but you dare not to bring it to the table. “Are you ready to leave for the games, my lady?” Your husband said, laying out his hand for you to take.

“As always.” You replied.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY

Part 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: You confront your husband, the emperor of Rome, of his sickness.

You leaned back in your chair. The bracelets on your arm clanging loudly as you moved, showing off your riches with just such noise.

Your husband was right in front of you, yet his mind miles away. It was always away when the people in the coliseum roared as they saw a persons eye get gutted out of his head. He would howl with them as well.

You did not care so much for this marriage was not out of love but Marcus. Dare not ever call him that, Caracalla has been different these past moons.

So there you were, starring intensely at your husband back trying to figure him out.

…

“More food, my lady?” A servant came up with a tray of grapes, all laid out neatly with additional touches of green that was obviously there for decoration purposes.

You didn’t say anything and put up your hand and shooed him away, you were occupied anyways as Caracalla finally sat back down next to you.

He smacked his chair and gave a chuckle, “did you see that?” “I did.” You said plainly, looking straight ahead. He frowned, “you don’t seem excited by that?” You turned your head to him finally, looking into his eyes. You tried to seem something there but there wasn’t.

“No, I have just seen better battles.”

He scooted back more into his chair, trying to get comfortable in his seat. “You’re right.” He agreed with you, “It has only just begun though, don’t fret my dear.”

Your eyes drew back to the sandy arena floor, dust flying up as people tried to dodge other attacks. The clink of metal on metal and the blood dowsing in the sun, it gave you no entertainment as it did to him. It happened so often, how are they not bored of it?

Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against the armrest, the cold clink of your bracelets and rings brought you back.

“You seem bored.” Caracalla frowned at you. You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between each other. Shifted in your seat, eyeing him once more, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes gleamed with a hunger you never quite understood.

“I suppose I am.” Playing with your rings as you let out a sigh. “Caracalla's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gave a short laugh. "You always were different. I suppose as well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't care for the blood, do you?"

Your head turned as well to meet him again. You two were very close now and his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin.

The crowd went up again and his brother, Geta started to shout ferociously, almost as if he was fighting them down there as well. The sound broke you two apart.

His smile didn’t falter as he straightened in his chair, but there was something in his gaze—something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "You don't like the blood," he repeated, quieter now, as if testing something. Noticing him slowly disappearing more and more into his mind.

"You know, it's not the blood," you replied, your voice low and deliberate, "It's what comes after it."

He definitely heard you but decided not to pay attention to you anymore and decided to lean against the railing watching the show below unfold.

———

You did not see your husband, Caracalla until later that night, long after the sun had set and the games were done for the day. The moon shining bright and cooling everyone of the hot day in Rome.

Back in your chamber with the windows open. The wind blowing through your silk gown right in the moonlight’s direction. Looking out into the beautiful streets and hearing bells ring and children laughing. It was the only peaceful part of the day you would get.

It reminded you of home.

Nor did you care when you heard footsteps enter into the room. "Are you still angry?" Caracalla voice was low, tinged with amusement, though you could tell he was testing the waters.

Your head tilted a bit and your eyes lingered on the marble floor. “I never was.” Keeping your voice quiet and steady. For a moment, he said nothing, only watching you. His usual presence was like a shadow, but tonight it felt like he wasn’t even there.

"You always do this," Caracalla’s voice broke the stillness, soft but tinged with something darker. He had moved closer now, though still keeping a careful distance, as if measuring the space between you both. "You retreat into silence like a stranger in your own home. You’ve always been so... aloof. Cold, even."

You wanted to scoff at him. To throw the vase on the table at him. You knew better than this though, you’ve played this game your whole life. You had played it with your father. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. "I don’t retreat, Caracalla," you replied, your voice calm, though it held a trace of something sharper beneath it. “Something seems off with you these days, I fear.” You held your hands close to your chest for some comfort.

He breath became fast and he narrowed his eyebrows for a second. “Is this why you can’t look at me?” He raised his voice higher yet you did not flinch one bit.

“No.” You said.

He stepped closer to you to talk quietly yet anger was still in his body, it has always been there, a whisper in the night air. "Then what is it? What do you see when you look at me?"

You shifted slightly, the silk of your gown rippling with the motion, "I see a man who has everything, yet still wants more," you said softly, the words as sharp as the cold marble beneath your feet.

Caracalla paused, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the silence between you both growing heavy. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out, the fury in him barely contained. Yet, he remained still, his lips pressed tight together as he absorbed your words.

"You always were good with words," he muttered, you stood unmoving, your back to the open window, the cool night air sweeping through the room as the distant sounds of Rome's nightlife echoed faintly in the background. The weight of his gaze was palpable, as though it was trying to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built between you and him.

"What do you want, Caracalla?" You said those words very loudly. You weren’t afraid speaking out against him. “You are not yourself these days, you are restless in your sleep and crave blood more than ever…”

He looked down at the ground and almost began to shout. “It is my brother! He blames me for everything I’ve ever done!” His voice pleased and aching. You’ve seen him like this before, but never this serious. Yet, you don’t believe he’s telling the full truth, or at least he knows the full truth.

You drop your hands to your side and step close to him, your silhouette leaving the silver moonlight that touched you. You brush your hand into his hair and look at him, holding his head. Your rings felt cold against his skin but he did not mind it.

“You are the emperor.” You spoke softly, trying to calm him down. He had always been out there but you’ve always yet had a soft heart and it aches for him right now.

His eyes were stinging from holding back tears yet he did not shed any. He did not speak for he did not seem weak but he has a sickness of the mind and you knew it, Geta knew it, the senate knew it and damn that monkey probably knew it as well. You just kept denying it and he does not see it.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” He whispered and turned his head to break away from your hands. Leaving the cold air to touch them again. Maybe you should’ve kept that window closed.