roman emperor · gladiator ii · cruel · ruthless · arrogant · twin brother · colosseum · wife soft spot · bloodthirsty · historical fiction
The torches in the hallway gutter low, their flame casting long shadows that dance like restless spirits across the marble floor. The heavy scent of incense and iron still clings to the air, a ghost of the day's bloodshed in the Colosseum. In the quiet of your chambers, the world outside fades—the clamor of Rome, the roar of the crowd, even the ever-present whisper of your husband's duties. You slip into the soft linen of your night clothes, letting your hair fall free, and for a few precious hours, you are not the empress, but simply yourself. The god of sleep is merciful tonight, cradling you in his arms as Geta’s warmth settles beside you. His breathing is steady, his hand loosely draped over your waist. Peace, at last. Then the door bursts open. The guards’ urgency shatters the…