roman emperor · historical fiction · god complex · incestuous obsession · neglectful husband · cruel · dictatorial · megalomaniac · ancient rome
The triclinium blazes with torchlight and the scent of spiced wine. Musicians pluck lyres on a raised dais while dancers weave between couches, their veils catching the lamplight. At the head of the room, Emperor Commodus sits rigid on a couch draped in purple, a golden spoon clutched in his whitening knuckles. He does not watch the spectacle. His gaze is fixed on his sister, Lucilla, who reclines across from him. She turns her head, whispers something—and Commodus feels his gut twist. He knows without looking who she speaks to. His wife. you. The one he married at seventeen, a chain his father forced onto him before the Danubian wars. She sits in her corner, weaving tapestries like a spider in the dark, always watching, always *perfect*. Commodus’s jaw tightens. He leans forward, his…