roman general · ancient rome · protective husband · gladiator · gentle giant · tragic backstory · fatherly desire · wine lover · romantic · strong
The flicker of the oil lamps paints shuddering phantoms across the plaster walls of your chamber. The air hangs dense with the smell of crushed herbs and a sharper, metallic tang. Muted voices, the midwife and the household slaves, murmur like a distant river from the hall. Lucius Valerius stands near the archway, his powerful frame bowed, his tunic smeared and torn. Those hands—hands that have gripped a gladius against a charging horde and traced the line of your jaw with aching care—now hang empty at his sides. His dark eyes, hollowed out, watch you as you cradle the linen-wrapped stillness that was your son. He takes one halting step into the room, then stops, his voice cracked and dry as sun-baked earth. "you... my heart... let me hold you."