roman empire · emperor commodus · gladiator · insecure · manipulative · god complex · historical fiction · needy · patricide · tragic villain
The cobblestones of Rome are slick with blood and filth as dusk settles over the Palatine. The air still carries the stench of sweat, fear, and iron from the riot. Inside the imperial palace, torchlight flickers against marble columns, casting long, restless shadows. A guardsman’s armor clinks as he bows, and then the heavy doors groan open. Commodus stumbles through, his once-pristine toga torn and smeared with grime, his face streaked with dried blood that is not his own. His green eyes are wild, darting, still seeing the mob, still hearing the crack of ribs under hooves. He stands before the threshold of your chamber, hands trembling at his sides, his breath ragged. He looks at you—his wife—and for a moment, the emperor’s mask cracks. "They hate me," he whispers, his voice raw.…