Summary: You were meant to marry him, thinking he is an unkind man, you kept your distance from him, but soon, you learned the truth.
As the sun cast its golden rays over the bustling streets of ancient Rome, Marcus Acacius, a bold Roman soldier, crossed paths with you, his soon-to-be wife.
At first, your heart held nothing but hate for this man, seeing him as a brute and unkind soul.
However, destiny had a different plan in store for both of you.
In an unexpected turn of events, you discovered that he was nothing like your initial judgment had led you to believe.
Beneath his hardened exterior lay a heart filled with kindness, compassion, and a burning love for you.
You wanted to explore that.
To see where it would lead the two of you.
And so, you began to spend more time together.
You ate together and even went on many walks around the city. Seeing him interact with people made you realise just how kind he was.
Watching him smile spread a warmth inside your heart.
Slowly, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble.
Marcus's gentle words and thoughtful gestures slowly melted away your worries, allowing love to blossom inside you.
In the tender moments shared, he revealed his vulnerability and how deeply he had fallen for you.
One evening, Marcus took your hand and whispered to you.
"My love, I know that our journey together began with animosity, but I promise you, my intentions have always been pure. I am here to protect you, cherish you, and love you with every fibre of my being."
Tears welled up in your eyes at his words.
"Marcus, I never imagined that behind your cold facade, there would be such a loving heart. I am grateful for the person you have shown me, and I too must confess, I have fallen deeply in love with you."
From that moment forward, your lives intertwined as you embarked on a journey filled with love, trust, and unwavering devotion.
Your wedding was simple. Your family was there, and you had a great time.
But you were just thankful for the journey ahead of you with a husband so loving, kind and handsome.
In the years that followed, amidst the madness of war and the difficulties of life, Marcus remained your dedicated rock.
His unwavering support and unwavering love carried you through every storm, reminding you of the depth of his commitment.
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Marcus gazes upon his daughter and he thinks back to the day Bellona placed her in his arms. She was a small babe but her cries rang throughout the camp like a war horn and she would only be soothed by her father's voice, bouncing from side to side as he went through different strategies. His friend and Captain of his armies, Quintus, always laughed when he told of how the feared Marcus Acacius discussed invasion plans with the other commanders with a baby girl strapped to his chest - of how he would take every one of her babbles as if it was an excellent question and jump to another point to answer it.
(“sic semper tyrannis” on AO3, featuring Marcus Acacius being the best father in all of Rome and his unhinged demigod daughter)
(Art by the amazing and incredible @palluniskillas - who I would give my life for)
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?
Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
General Marcus Acacius Masterlist
“We can’t thank you enough, miss.”
I wave my hand. “No need to thank me. I’m just doing what I can.”
I pull the palla (scarf) over my head as I wind my way back up the city streets, heading towards the home I grew up in. The largest home in the entire province that used to belong to my father, the noble in charge of this entire area. But ever since he died, my brother has taken his place and well, let’s just say he is far from my favorite person. Which is why I’m hiding as I sneak back inside, my brother having forbidden my leaving the grounds ever since I was forced to return after my husband’s death.
I wake the next morning to the sound of many footsteps running outside and down the halls. I quickly pull on my tunic and head out of the door, turning to head towards the main chambers where my brother would undoubtedly be. Sure enough, as I approached, I heard him raise his voice. It sounded like he was trying to muster troops? He barks out a few more commands and the door flies open, catching me off guard.
“Sister! Come here!” My brother, Cato, demands. I enter the room, casting my eyes downward and away from him for a moment before looking at him.
“Brother, what is happening?”
His eyes scan me from head to foot, his lip pulling up in a snear. “The Army has arrived.”
I cock my head. “Who’s army?”
He sighs, exasperated,. “The Roman army, Cornelia. The one led by Marcus Acacius?”
My eyes widen. “The general who has never been beat?”
“That’s the one.”
The people running around make sense now. We’re preparing for a fight. “What will we do?”
“We will fight!”
I scoff. “You cannot hope to win.”
His mean eyes snap to mine. “You don’t think I can?”
“I…I just mean, General Acacius has a reputation. Our numbers are small, we can’t-”
He waves his hand at me, cutting me off. “Yes, yes. I know. We’re going to give it our best. But I also have a backup.”
“Oh?”
The snear comes on full display. “Yes. Actually a way to solve 2 problems with one.”
“Two problems?”
“I will surrender and give the General you as a victory gift.”
My jaw drops, the air whooshing from my lungs. “M..me?”
“Yes, you. I know you’re already 30, but you look much younger. He won’t know. Besides, he doesn’t need to marry you.”
“You mean to give me to a man with no intention-”
He reaches out and grips my face with one hand. “Dear sister. I would whore you out to every noble, the emperors themselves, if it meant I got to keep my lifestyle.” He shoves me away. “Now go make yourself presentable. As much faith as I’d like to have in our troops, I rather think it will come down to you.”
And that was that. He turns, effectively cutting me off from any retort. I head back to my room, calling for one of my servants to help me prepare. As she washes me, I think on all that has transpired. Am I finally to be free of the hell that has been my life for the last several years? I know I should be afraid, terrified of the renowned General Acacius, but I’m not. Anything is better than here.
My brother has me sit in a chair off to the side of his own, the sound of swords clinking growing closer and closer. The heavy doors creak open and soldiers pour inside, nearly covering the space in a handful of steps. My brother holds up his white flag, a symbol of surrender and luckily, they stop, one of them yelling to get the General. Only a handful of moments pass before a man strides into the hall, broad shoulders barely contained in beautiful leather armor, the head of Medusa proudly displayed on its front. He is covered in blood and dirt and sweat, a sword still in his hand as he confidently strides up to my brother, who instantly bows.
“General Acacius. I humbly surrender to your forces.”
“So many people died for you to be sitting here on your chair. You could have stopped the bloodshed before it started and you did not.”
“I had to give it my best shot. Honor was at stake. You can understand that, yes?”
General Acacius considers this for a moment. “And let me guess- honor is what you think will keep me from slicing you in half with my blade?”
The smile on Cato’s face falters slightly. “Well, yes.” The blade shifts in the General’s hand and my brother puts his hands up. “That and-” he reaches over and grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my skin as he throws me at the General. I fall to the floor on my knees with the unexpected movement, my palms stinging with the impact. “-my sister! Take her, marry her, use her, whatever. She is yours.”
The General leans forward, extending his hand towards me. I look at it, the blood and dirt mixed together in some kind of horrible art on his palm, and I take it, allowing him to help me up. Once I’m standing, my eyes find his and I’m shocked to see concern.
“Are you alright, miss?” He asks, his eyes scanning my face.
I don’t break the gaze as I whisper. “Please take me with you. I will be faithful to you however you need me. Free me from this prison.”
He cocks his head ever so slightly, searching for something in me. Apparently he finds whatever he’s looking for as he looks over my shoulder back at Cato. “I will take her. But I should kill you here for the way you treat your people but especially for the way you treat your sister. Your own blood.”
“My people will recover and I’m sure you or your men will be thankful to have such a beauty after-” the General takes a step forward, his blade coming up. All I hear is slicing, a horrible gurgling, sputtering sound as a body thuds to the floor. I don’t move, not right away, using my breath to steady myself. I start to turn when the General grips my arms, preventing me from moving.
“You do not need to see this.”
“I think I do.”
“Miss-”
I drop my voice so only he can hear me. “My brother has put me through hell for years. I have no love for him. Let me have this closure. Please.”
He hesitates for a moment before nodding, dropping his hands from my arms. I take a breath and turn, my eyes immediately finding the crimson pool on the floor, the thin gash across Cato’s throat bright and angry against his skin. His are vacant, every trace of the evil life he lived, gone. I nod once and turn back to the General, who is still watching me. His soldiers file from the room, a loud silence falling over us.
“So…do I..do I follow you or?”
He holds his hand up. “I do not plan on holding you to that deal or whatever your brother tried to do.” He starts to turn but I gently grip his arm. He looks down at my hand briefly before looking at me.
“You saved me from this torture. I will be faithful and loyal to you.”
He puts his large hand over mine, taking it from his arm and holding it. “I have no doubt of that, miss. But you owe me nothing. Go live your life.”
“General Acacius, may I speak plainly?”
He nods. “Please.”
“I understand what you are trying to do. But please think: my brother has controlled this province ever since my father passed several years ago. He has placed more taxes and fees on these people than anyone before. And he just led half of them to slaughter with your arrival when he planned on surrendering. They are not happy with my house. They may like me but I don’t think that fondness will suffice when they are burying their husbands and sons for no reason.”
He thinks for several moments. “Perhaps you are right. I cannot in good conscience leave you here to die. I can escort you to our next province but know that it isn’t a place for a woman. War and battle are hard and bloody. I can protect you from my men but I cannot promise to protect you from those we fight against.”
“I understand. Wherever you need me, there I’ll be.”
“You are free to leave whenever you wish.” He turns, heading towards the doors.
“But what if I wish to stay? With you?” I follow behind him and slam into his chest when he abruptly stops and turns around. He looks down at me and my heartbeat races. Now I’m closer, I can see past the grime, see his greying hairs, the scar that runs down the side of his face, his eyes, dark and battle-hardened but also caring, a tinge of regret. They also darken with a look I’ve seen in many men’s faces as they chase the skirts of women. But then he blinks and it’s gone.
“We shall see.”
General Acacius accompanies me to my chambers and allows me to pack a few things. It’s lighter than I would normally travel with, considerably, but it’s not needed. And I can always get new things along the way. A few pallas (head scarfs) and tunics, some health and hygiene products and I’m ready, the General giving me a nod of approval at my small bag that I’d packed. His soldiers ransack the estate, including my room, taking anything of value to either sell or melt and turn into weapons. General Acacius ensured I had everything I wanted before he allowed it, a gesture I wasn’t expecting. As we head towards the front gates of my previous estate, he turns to me, speaking low so only I would hear.
“Stay close to me. Speak to no one. Pull that palla over your hair and stay quiet. Understood?”
I nod quickly as I do what he says, making sure it covers my hair. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you have a favorite horse?”
I blink. “Yes. In the stables.”
He allows me to lead us to the stables and I quickly locate my black barb horse, Caius. He is nervous, snuffing and chittering in his stable, but the moment he sees me, he calms.
“Hi, Caius. Are you ready to go on an adventure?” He presses his forehead to mine, a gesture we’ve done since he was a foal. I can feel the General’s eyes on me, watching as I lead Caius from the stables and ready him for travel. It only takes a few minutes and I’m grateful for learning how to do it rather than relying solely on stable hands. He has me lead Caius out with his reins rather than riding, no doubt to make me less of an easier target.
We head out of the main gate and I stifle a small gasp. I hear the sounds of wailing, mothers having lost sons, wives their husbands, children their fathers. The Roman soldiers are trying to calm the area, and they’re succeeding by sheer numbers, but the sounds of grief have no master. It’s then that I realize what the crimson tinge to the soil under my sandals is. I swallow hard, willing the tears not to fall. I don’t want to look weak. But these were my people, even if we were separated by title and money and my heart aches for them.
General Acacius sets a brisk pace, winding around the main square, no doubt trying to avoid any sort of riot or call for my head. I couldn’t blame them. Like I’d said to the General, they may like me, but my family is the reason they’re burying their boys and men needlessly. I can feel how nervous Caius is, but he trusts me fully and obediently follows me without issue. What seems like hours later, we make it out of the city. The General steers us towards a group of men guarding horses. They salute him as he walks up.
“General, sir!”
He nods and they drop their salute. “My horse.”
“Yes, sir.” One of the soldiers runs off and comes back moments later with a beautiful chestnut colored horse. He hands the reins to the General and salutes before going back to his post. The General turns to me.
“We will ride to camp. Stay close to me. Keep that palla over your hair, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
He watches me for a moment, his hand coming up to rub his horse’s nose. “Ready?”
I swing myself up onto Caius in one fluid motion, one that I had been doing for the majority of my life and at least 10 years with Caius. His eyes linger on me as I settle in, adjusting my palla to cover my hair. Our eyes meet and he holds my gaze for just a brief moment before blinking and looking back towards his own horse, swinging himself onto the saddle. Despite my situation, I can't help but to think...
Damn he looks good on a horse.
We don’t ride far, maybe a quarter or so mile from my city. We break through a line in the trees and I gasp - an entire camp has been built, complete with walls, tents, cooks, all of it. The soldiers by the wall call out and the gates creak open, General Acacius riding through the opening, glancing back once to make sure I’m following. We wind through the camp to where the horses are kept. He hops down from his chestnut mount and offers me his hand to help me down from Caius. I hesitate a moment before linking my hand with his and slide off of my horse. General Acacius nods to a young man and hands him the reigns to his horse, motioning to me to do the same.
“I promise they will take good care of him.”
I give Caius a pat on his head and hand the reigns to the boy, who leads both horses off towards the makeshift stable area.
“Follow me,” The General commands and I comply, my sandals squishing in the mud as I go. We arrive at a grand tent, some soldiers stationed outside, one of which holds open a flap to allow General Acacius inside. He motions for me to follow and I do, feeling the tent flap close behind me. The tent is just as large as it appears. One side has a table with maps on it with little pins placed all over it. There are some traveling chests, which I assume house either weapons or other clothing or armor. On the other side of the tent is a room divider, behind which is a mattress and a small area for changing. A loud clank snaps me back to my reality and I see The General lay a sword on another table, this one set closer to his sleeping area. He removes his bracers as well, rubbing his wrists after he does so, glancing up at me.
“I will instruct my men to not touch you, but I would advise you stick to my tent.”
“I- yes. I understand, General.”
He barks out a name and I jump, the volume catching me off guard. A man enters the tent and salutes.
“Sir?”
“Fetch me some bath water for my…guest.”
“Yes, sir.” The tent flap closes behind the man as he goes off to bring the bath water.
There are a few moments of silence where he watches me, his eyes quickly glancing down my body and back up. “You can leave your belongings here.” He walks over to the divider and motions for me to follow. He points to a small crate in the corner. “You can set your bag here. I have some space in a chest for your things when we pack tomorrow.”
“Oh. Thank you, sir.”
He’s so close now, I could reach out and touch him. I want to, his greying curls and dark eyes heating me in ways I didn’t know possible. He blinks, shaking his head slightly.
“I will have them make you a sleeping mat, but you may not get it for a bit. You can take mine and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Absolutely not.”
He cocks his head slightly to the side, curious at this woman who would say no to him. “Excuse me?”
I clear my throat. “I won’t have the general of Rome sleeping on the floor. I can do that.”
“But, you are my guest, and a woman. I can’t allow you to do that.”
“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to share.” The words come out of my mouth before I can think. He fights back a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You would share a bed with a man who is not your husband?”
“My husband has been dead for many years. And not just any man. The man who saved my life.”
He watches me still, his eyes softening but somehow dark. He reaches out, hesitating a moment before gripping my upper arm. “I am sorry for your loss….well, if you insist, I promise to be respectful until we can get you your own mat.”
I speak quietly. “When I get my own mat, then you’ll be disrespectful?” I don’t intend for him to hear, but sometimes my inner thoughts become outer ones. His eyes meet mine and he opens his mouth to speak, but then several men enter with a tub full of water and the moment passes, General Acacius holding my gaze for a moment longer before dismissing the men. He pulls over another room divider and places it in front of the bathtub, gesturing towards it. “This is for you. I’ll personally stand outside to make sure no one enters.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
I take my time bathing, knowing that it may be a moment before I’m able to again. The water is cool when I emerge, wrapping a blanket around me and wringing out my hair. I pull on a clean tunic and sit on the sleeping mat, grateful that I’d packed a brush. The General returns a few minutes later, poking his head around the corner.
“Oh. I assumed you would be asleep.”
“Almost. I won’t take up too much space.”
He waves his hand. “I am not worried.” He shuffles around, grabs some tunics from a chest, and disappears, reappearing later with wet hair that has started to curl, in a fresh tunic, sans armor. He gets on the mat beside me, trying his best with his broad frame to give me space.
“General Acacius, it’s ok. Take as much space as you need. Tell me if you need more. Whatever you want, I will give it.”
He shifts a bit longer. “You are fine. Breakfast will be brought to us in the morning. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, General.” I settle into my spot, trying to take up as little space as possible. It’s quiet, quieter than I thought a camp would be.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him in the dark. I know he doesn’t hear me, but I wanted to say it anyway.
“You’re welcome,” a whisper back. I smile, knowing that I at least made some sort of headway into us getting to know each other. I meant what I’d said before -I will be loyal and go wherever he wants me. Do whatever he needs me to do. I owe him my life.
It’s early when I wake, I can tell by the quietness of the camp. Slowly, I become aware of my immediate surroundings, remembering the events of the previous day. It’s then I feel something heavy draped across my waist. I crack an eye open and look down, seeing The General’s arm casually slung across me. His breaths puff out on my neck and I can tell he’s in a deep sleep. But then he shifts and..oh.
He’s hard and pressed against my ass, pushing against me slightly in his sleep to relieve some of the pressure. It’s been so long since I’ve had any interaction this way, let alone with someone I’m attracted to. I’m torn as to what to do. If I wake him, I don’t want him to be embarrassed. If he needs me in that way, I will happily consent. Beg for it, even. But I don’t want to be presumptuous either and take advantage of him, even if it’s just to feel his warm, protective presence. My body seems to make the decision for me, my hips grinding back on their own accord. A few seconds goes by before his hand moves and he grips my hip, his fingers digging into my skin.
“You need to stop moving.”
My cheeks heat instantly and I’m relieved he can’t see my face. “O-oh. I’m sorry if I was bothering you.”
“Not bothering me. I am trying to be respectful and you’re making it…difficult.”
“Who says you need to be respectful?”
His fingers dig in tighter and I inhale sharply, the sensation going straight between my legs. He presses himself closer to me, which heats me up more. He stays like that for several moments, his breaths fanning out over the side of my neck. But then he pulls away and sits up, my back feeling cold with his absence.
“No. I cannot ask that of you.”
I sit up too, turning to face him. “You would not be taking advantage. I meant what I said - I am yours in whatever way you need me. I will follow you wherever you want me.”
His eyes find mine, deep and dark, as he contemplates my words. He opens his mouth to speak but then the tent flap opens and a man calls out that breakfast is ready. The General’s mouth slams shut and his expression changes. “Place it on the table.” The man complies and the tent flap closes again.
He gently places his hand over mine. “Come. Let’s eat.”
The Roman troops are impressive.
That day, they pack up the entire camp and start the long trek towards our next destination, which is at least several days worth of traveling by land. And every night they build an entirely new camp that looks identical to the one they had outside of my city. It’s mind boggling.
Ever since our first night, The General tries harder to keep a respectful distance from me, not wanting me to feel pressured or obligated to do anything. He keeps me close though, always keeping an eye on me to make sure I’m safe. A week goes by and we’re in his tent, him pouring over maps and moving the little pieces and pins, me reading a book that he pulled from one of his chests. A soldier enters the tent with a tray of food and the General motions to his side table. The soldier leaves and I close my book, watching General Acacius for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stares at his board, a single curl falling forward onto his forehead. I quietly get up and cross the space to him, gently squeezing his arm.
“Hey. Come eat.”
He blinks and looks down at me, heaving a big sigh. “You’re right. I need a break.” He follows me back to the table and sits, starting to eat some of the cooked meat the men had brought in.
“Have you thought about what you want to do once we capture the next city?” He takes a bite out of the meat and watches me as he chews.
“Are you asking me to leave?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Damn I want to lick it. “War is no place for a lady.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He studies me for a moment. “You may do what you want. I told you you are free.”
“And I told you that I will follow you.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You saved my life.”
“You do not wish to get married?”
I shrug. “I was married before. But I am not objecting to marrying again. To the right person.”
He takes another bite of meat and thoroughly chews it before speaking. “What happened to him? Your husband. You mentioned his passing before.”
I’m honestly surprised he hadn’t asked before. We had started having little talks at meals, but it wasn’t about anything heavy.
“Remus was a kind man. He was the eldest son of the wealthiest merchant in our city. My father arranged our marriage to unite our houses. He was wealthy and had his own estate. We married and I moved in with him. I…suppose I loved him, in a content way. Like I said, Remus was kind, despite his hard exterior with his business dealings. He made sure I had everything I wanted. He had bought me Caius when he was just a foal. However, a few months after we were wed, he was called to the army. He left, proud to serve his people, despite his family begging him not to go. He never returned.” I take a sip from my mug, giving myself a moment to gather myself. “It was..hard, after he had passed. We had not really had a chance to have children. His family returned me to my family after a grieving period. I was allowed to keep Caius only because he had formed such a fierce attachment to me, along with some trinkets and clothes. Honestly, Remus would’ve been appalled at the way his family moved me from the estate. Anyway, I moved back in with my father and brother. A few years later, my father became ill and passed away, leaving me to my brother, Cato. He was abusive, verbally and physically. But I had nowhere to go. I dreamt every day that someone would come to take me away from him. But he always reminded me that no one would want someone who was used and old.” I shrug, taking another sip before meeting his eyes. “When I say you saved my life, I mean it. I am not simply in your debt. I want to be here.” He watches me for several moments, his jaw ticking as he fiddles with his mug. He sits up and leans forward, placing his large hand over mine.
“I am sorry you had to endure all of that tragedy.”
“Thank you, General.”
“Marcus. Call me Marcus.”
My stomach flutters. “Marcus. Thank you.”
We’re back in the saddle the next day, me on Caius and him on his beautiful chestnut horse, Augustus. He has been softer with me since I told him my story, chatting and making jokes. He’s still respectful, never wanting to push a boundary. One that he set himself, I might add. Another camp goes up, this one built a little differently. There are more wood cabins instead of tents and Marcus explains that we may be here more than a night or two. We eventually settle into our bed, another mattress somehow never appearing for me. Not that I’m reminding anyone.
“We ride out in the morning. I want you to stay in this cabin, do you understand?”
“Y-yeah. Yes. Of course.”
He turns to me on his side, his eyes on me in the dimly lit space as I roll to look at him. He speaks quietly, but firm and I think I can make out worry in his eyes.
“I will have Caius ready and waiting for you outside. If you hear any soldiers, you take him and you ride. You run, do you understand me?”
“Yes, but what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. You get to safety. That is your priority. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but-”
In an unexpected move, he reaches out and cups my cheek, his eyes on mine. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?
Notes: I asked and you voted! One final part instead of 2! Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)
**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
General Marcus Acacius Masterlist
A New Life Masterlist
The horses neigh and stomp at the ground, anxious to enter the city and start their path through its streets to the capital building where the Emperors were waiting for us.
Not us. Him.
The tent opens and Marcus strides out of it, his presence commanding. He’s dressed in a white and gold armor, a ridiculous color for actual battle but damn if it doesn’t leave me breathless. His hair sits in perfect salt and pepper curls, a new scar on his face a red line across his cheek, enhancing his attractiveness. Now I understand why Lucilla dressed me in a white and gold tunic - to match him. To show a team. To show my support of him.
Marcus is lost in thought as he makes his way to the chariot where he is to ride and lead the procession, I'm somewhere behind him, not so far back that I’ll have to run to keep up with him at the end, but not so close that I take any attention from him. Not that Marcus would care in the slightest, but these Emperors are so damn picky. He doesn’t notice me at first, completely focused on whatever he’s thinking about until he nearly knocks into me. He steps back, an apology forming on his lips that dies there as he takes me in, his eyes roaming up and down my body.
“You…you’re stunning.”
I can feel my cheeks warm and I glance away from him and back. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Marcus scoffs. “This old thing? I feel ridiculous in it.”
I step up next to him and speak in his ear. “Well then I’ll have to help you out of it.”
A growl rumbles in his throat. “Let’s skip the celebration. Think they’ll notice?”
I smile. “They might.”
“Damn.” He tips my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my lips that starts to heat up when his chariot driver clears his throat. Marcus breaks the kiss, his eyes lingering on my face a moment longer.
“Sir. Sir, it’s time.”
His eyes are glued to mine and I can see all the anxiety and worry building there, not just for himself but for me as well. “See you up on the hill.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Damn this city is loud. I thought we had a lot of people but they were nothing compared to this. Packed in tight and yelling their approval, I can barely hear myself think. Despite my rapid heartbeat that increases the closer we make it to the center of the city, I can hear them chant his name. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! They love him. And I find my first commonality with the people here in the great city of Rome.
We turn down a street and head through these massive pillars and down another path, at the end of which stands a massive white staircase. At the top I see 2 men clad in white robes - they must be the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. My stomach turns immediately and I have a sense of foreboding, but that may just be my nerves. I’ve never met rulers of a nation this size before. Marcus hops off his chariot and walks back to mine, offering me his hand as I disembark.
“Are you ok?” He asks as I step down.
I shrug. “As good as I can be.”
He escorts me up the stairs, pausing several from the top to drop my arm, a move we had discussed earlier, as the Emperors would want to address him directly. I watch him ascend those last steps alone, praying that everything goes alright.
Also to check out his thighs because damn.
Some words are exchanged between them that are lost to me, the crowd behind me is too loud for me to make it out. Then they place a crown of golden laurels on his head, which sends my mind whirling. He looks like one of the Gods themselves. He addresses the crowd with a raised hand as they all cheer and chant his name. Then he extends his hand down to me, his eyes immediately finding mine and trying to offer some comfort. I gather up my tunic and ascend the last few steps, happily taking Marcus’s hand. He gives it a little squeeze and some of the nerves leave my body.
“Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. May I present to you my wife, Cornelia.”
Pale makeup cakes both of their faces, coal darkening the skin around their eyes making them look less imposing and more…psychotic? Geta addresses me first, his eyebrows raised as his eyes rake over me and flick between Marcus and myself.
“General Acacius. You found yourself a wife. It’s about time.” He takes a step closer to me. “We all thought he would die without having heirs.”
I nod. “I see, my Lord.”
His head cocks to the side, his eyes still on me as Caracalla steps up beside him. “Your hair is absolutely gorgeous! That red is so vibrant!”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Their eyes are studying me, watching me and for the first time, I realize exactly why Marcus asked Lucilla to tutor me.
“Come! Let’s celebrate and get to know your new wife!” They turn and head into the room behind them, marching up to a table with a few goblets of wine. Marcus looks at me and gives me a soft smile before offering his arm to escort me inside. A servant offers us both a glass of wine and I take it, copying Marcus.
“We will have the games in your honor, Acacius.” Geta holds out his cup to toast.
“That is not necessary. I am merely happy to serve Rome.” Marcus lifts his glass to toast, but Geta withdraws his own, Caracalla looking between them with disappointment.
“Nonsense. We are celebrating your wins, Acacius.”
“The wins are not mine but yours. I do this for Rome.”
Geta stares at Marcus for several tense moments. “Then you’ll be happy to hear we plan on conquering India and many others next, under your leadership of course.”
Marcus’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. “My Emperors. I was hoping to have a break from war to spend time with my new wife.”
My heart swells, but then Geta interrupts my thoughts. “Surely it won’t take you that long to make babies?”
Caracalla laughs. “It might brother. He is old.” They laugh together, Marcus smirking at an attempt to join in the jest, but I’m seething inside. This old man could kill them in an instant.
“Whatever time it takes, I’d like to make sure my wife settles in and is comfortable before I go off again.”
Geta studies him a moment. “Nimibia.”
I can feel Marcus tense beside me. “What of Nimibia?”
“Take Nimibia for us. Once you return, we will have the games and then talk of a break for your lovely wife.” Getas eyes find mine for a moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips before he looks to Marcus. “That is not a request.”
Marcus takes a deep breath. “As my Emperors command.”
Caracalla claps his hands together. “Excellent! And don’t worry about Cornelia. I’m sure she’ll have fun at court!”
It’s merely a week later when Marcus heads for Port Ostia, his troops sailing this time to Nimibia. We had said several long goodbyes as I held him between my thighs. His last kiss was hard and deep, pouring every ounce of love and worry into it. He pulls back and cradles my face in his hands, speaking so quietly that I can almost not hear him.
“Stick close to Lucilla. You can only trust who she trusts, yes?” I nod. “Say nothing to anyone. There are ears everywhere.”
“I understand.”
He kisses me again. “Please be safe, Cornelia. Court is deceptively dangerous.”
“You’re going off to a literal battle and you’re telling me to be safe?”
There is no smile on his face. “Some battles are fought with swords. Others are fought with words and they can often do more damage.”
He’s right. “I understand. If I miss you, I can simply go stare at your statue.”
Marcus groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re never going to let me live that one down are you?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“I did not ask for that.”
“I bet not.”
“Truly! I came back from a campaign and they demanded it. And now I have to stare at that thing every time I walk down that street. I try to avoid it.” We chuckle together at that and then fall silent for a bit.
I smooth my hands down the front of his armor. “Listen here, Marcus Acacius. You-” I jab a finger at his armor. “-are not allowed to die. Or get severely wounded. I forbid it. I won’t allow it. Do you understand me?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to remain serious. “Yes, ma’am.”
We watch each other for a few moments, Marcus brushing a few stray red strands of hair off of my face. One last kiss, a heated one, and then he abruptly spins on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind him. One might find this harsh but I get it. He had to make a quick exit. It’s too hard to leave otherwise. I walk to the window and watch him stride to his waiting horse, taking the reigns from the stable boy as he heads out of the city.
The house is quiet, except for the street noise from outside. There is a servant wandering around in the kitchen, but I am truly alone in this giant city.
Alone in a city full of people, most of whom I can’t trust.
It’s been 2 months and I am certain about one thing: I. Hate. Court.
The Emperors demand my appearance at nearly every single party they put on, some of them more mild but most of them are outrageous. They bring in people to fight to the death as they place bets, the blood and body parts splattering across the floor to cheers and geers. The first time this happened, I was not prepared. I practically ran from the room to empty my stomach into the first pot I could find.
When there weren’t fights to the death, and even when there were, the amount of promiscuity made me extremely uncomfortable. I am not a prude by any means, but I also don’t care to partake in massive orgies, especially when I was not made aware it was that kind of party. Emperor Geta tried to get me to stay, talking to me as I tried to keep my attention solely on him. Eventually, the woman hanging off of him took his full attention and I managed to slip away. Thankfully, no one questioned my absence.
I tried often to get out of these parties, choosing to spend more time with Lucilla or pretend I was sick. It worked sometimes, either I missed my invitation or I was too ill to answer it. I remembered what Marcus had told me about being careful so when Lucilla told me I would have to stomach at least a few parties to keep up appearances, I did. For Marcus.
Another month goes by when I receive another invitation. I’m about to say my apologies, as I have no desire to be amongst all of the backstabbing and political plays, but the delivery boy taps the front of the letter, urging me to read it. I open the invitation and my stomach flips, my lips pulling up in a smile as tears drop from my eyes.
Marcus will be home the day after tomorrow, a successful conquer of Nimibia.
“Let the Emperors know I will be at the welcoming ceremony.” The boy nods and turns, running back to the capital building.
My mind is whirling with questions and scenarios, mainly wondering if he had been injured. I had only received one letter in his absence, and he told me it would be almost impossible to communicate once he reached a point. Still, it has been hard these last months without him.
“Leta?” I call out and my servant comes around the corner.
“Ma’am?”
“General Acacius is coming home. Come, help me figure out what to wear.”
Just like my initial arrival into the city, the crowds are massive and loud and for once I’m glad I’m at the top of these ridiculous stairs. Leta and I had chosen the same outfit I’d worn on that day to match Marcus. Before we head out of the capital building and wait at the top of the stairs, Emperor Geta walks up to me.
“Nervous?” His eyes study me.
I smile coyly, playing my part. “A little.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. And if not…well I’m sure I can find a place for you here.” He takes a sip from a goblet, his eyes never leaving my face.
I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “You are too kind, Emperor.”
He takes a step closer to me, too close in my opinion. He brushes my hair behind my exposed shoulder, his eyes tracing down my neck and across my collarbone. “I am nothing if not generous.”
Before I can say or do anything, a soldier walks in and salutes, his fisted hand tapping the opposite side of his chest. “Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. They are in the city walls.”
Geta’s gaze is still on my face. “Come. Let’s go see if your husband is still…intact.” He offers me his arm and every fiber of my being wants to reject it. But I remember Lucilla’s words of warning. Always accept an arm from the Emperor. I put on that coy smile and take it, my stomach churning both at his touch and anticipation for what I’m about to see. Caracalla comes to my other side and we all walk out, Geta dropping my arm several feet from where they will great Marcus. I wait and try to remember how to breathe. The crowd gets louder and louder, their cries suddenly taking on a shape.
Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!
Relief washes over me as I realize they’re chanting his name, which means he must be on his chariot. I can’t see from my position, but a few moments later, Geta and Caracalla look down the steps and I assume he must be coming up them. I hold my breath, waiting for my first glimpse of my husband since he left nearly 4 months ago.
Suddenly, he’s there. Dressed in white and gold, the sun shining down on his beautiful greying curls, a new scar across his cheek, but otherwise in perfect health. All limbs and no limping. I let out another sigh of relief, unable to stop a few tears from tracing a path down my cheeks. Marcus salutes the Emperors, pointedly not looking at me. I know he has to pay them their proper respects. It’s all part of the game. Some words are exchanged between them, but I only have eyes for Marcus, how he leans his head down so they can place yet another crown of laurels upon it, the way he stands strong, but trying not to impose. The way I can see how exhausted he is in his eyes, even though others may not see it.
“Ah yes. Your wife. She is here.” Geta steps to the side, gesturing for me to come. I follow the command, my eyes on Marcus, seeing his face light up as his eyes rake over my body both in concern and something darker.
Marcus offers his outstretched hands to me and I take them, his familiar touch relaxing me even more.
“My lady,” Marcus leans and plants a kiss to the back of my hand, standing back up to smile at me.
Marcus turns and addresses the crowd once more, his arm high in the air, before turning back and offering his arm to me, following the Emperors back inside the capital building. A servant comes and offers us wine, which we all accept.
“We will have games in your honor. May your sword always be sharp and ready for Rome.”
Marcus shifts beside me. “Games are not necessary, my Emperors. I do this for Rome.”
Geta lowers his cup, the sip he was about to take abandoned. “Nonsense. We must give you the praise you’ve earned.”
“I am happy with no praise. I am only here to serve Rome.”
Geta studies him for a moment. “Well then you’ll be pleased to know we’ve decided to go after India next.”
Marcus clears his throat and I can feel him tense beside me. “Emperors, I was hoping to have the time off of war to spend with my wife that we had discussed before Nimibia.”
Geta looks at me and smirks. “Oh, I think she’s settled in just fine. Haven’t you, Cornelia?”
I plaster on as convincing a smile as I can. “Everyone here is wonderful. But I’ll admit, I have missed my husband and would love to have time with him, as husband and wife should.”
“Mmm…” Geta’s eyes slowly move to Marcus. “And what say you, General Acacius? Would you let your wife keep you from doing what you do best?”
“May I speak plainly, my Emperors?” Geta cocks his head slightly but nods. “I was contemplating retirement. I am not getting any younger and my captain is more than capable of taking my place. It would give me time to start a family on the estate I am due.”
Caracalla stomps his foot. “No games, then? I want to see limbs being chopped off! I want to see blood! I want to see-”
“Brother! Enough. But you do give me an interesting thought.” He pauses, and I feel like I want to vomit. “We will have the games. And General Acacius, you are correct. You are due an estate at your retirement, anywhere of your choosing. However, it would be a great loss to Rome to lose someone of such skill.”
Marcus shifts slightly. “My Emperors, as I said before, my captain is perfectly-”
“I am not finished.” Marcus closes his mouth and waits. “As I was saying, your retirement would be a great loss to Rome. So how about this: you will compete in some of the battles in the games to represent us, Rome, as a sort of…farewell. If you win, you get to retire and you have my promise no one will bother you. If you refuse, you will leave for India immediately and you will continue warring in the name of Rome until the day you don’t return.”
Caracalla claps and whoops, but all I hear is whooshing, the sounds from all around me fading into the background. Marcus? Compete in the games? The ones where people fight animals and each other and Gods know what else to the death?
“May I have a moment?” Marcus asks. Geta waves a hand, taking a sip of his wine and turning to talk to his brother, who is still animatedly waving his arms about.
Marcus takes my arm and escorts me a few feet away, glancing around to make sure no one is in ear shot as he leans in, his eyes on mine. “I have to take this.”
“No! I have not been to these games but if they’re anything like the parties I was forced to attend, you cannot do it!”
“Cornelia, I cannot keep going away to war. The moment I get back they will send me off again. And one day I may fall and not get back up, lost to another land.”
I lean up, pretending to kiss his cheek. “We could run away. Tell them no and I’ll sneak on the ships or take Caius. We could run away and start over somewhere else.”
“My love, you know they would hunt us down and find us. This is the Roman Empire. They own almost all the world.”
Tears well in my eyes as he pulls back. “I am afraid, Marcus. What happens if…if…”
He pulls my hands up and kisses them. “If something happens to me, go to Lucilla. Stay with her. She will get you out of the city safely. They won’t chase just you.”
“No, Marcus. You can’t.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I must.”
The next day, Marcus and I sit in chairs behind the Emperors, his hand holding mine as they let loose some animals and fighters into the arena. The scene that follows is not a pretty one but I force myself to watch as the men mostly get punctured with horns or teeth, others being stabbed by their fellow fighters once the animals have all died. One man remained, brown hair and anger in his stance, and he was declared winner of that round.
There were several more rounds of this sort of thing. Sometimes the men would have weapons and other times not. The one thing that was consistent was the blood and gore and death. My stomach churned as I watched the blood pool in pockets around the arena, handlers carting away limbs as the crowd cheered. Then the Emperors stood, Geta turning to face Marcus and I as we stood.
“Tomorrow, you will have your first match. Sleep well.” He smirks before leaving through the door, Caracalla following in his wake, his monkey perched on his shoulder. I start to say something but Marcus squeezes my hand, shaking his head slightly. It’s not safe to talk here. We hardly say a word to each other on the way back to our apartment, both of our minds on tomorrow. I let Leta go home the moment we come in, rounding on Marcus the second she leaves.
“You cannot go tomorrow!”
Marcus beckons me to him as he walks to a small table to pour us 2 glasses of wine. He hands me one and we each take a sip, Marcus patting the seat next to him. I take it, setting my glass back on the small table. He speaks quietly, as if he’s afraid there’s someone listening.
“There is more to this than you can see.”
My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
He leans in closer. “There is a plan to retake Rome.”
“You mean, overthrow the Emperors?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
He shifts even closer to me, our bodies touching. “I have 5000 soldiers coming to Port Ostia. Men who are loyal to me as is my captain. They will march into the city and arrest the Emperors for crimes against the people.”
Nerves hit my stomach, both from relief and anxiety. “Then why don’t you move?”
“They won’t be there for another 8 days. We just have to hang on for that time.”
We’re quiet for a moment. “Who takes over?”
“Lucilla and those still loyal to her father have a plan. Rome will serve her people once more.”
Marcus cups my cheek, turning my face to look him in the eyes. “I know I am asking a lot of you, my love. I did not anticipate the Emperors asking me to compete, but I must keep up appearances.”
Tears start to well in my eyes at the thought of tomorrow. “But what if you-” he cuts me off with a kiss, his tongue pressing its way into my mouth before he pulls back, his forehead against mine.
“Tomorrow is tomorrow. I may be older but I am still a soldier.”
I don’t eat the next morning, Marcus already gone before I wake. Leta dresses me in silence, this time in a black tunic laced with a gold trim, a red scarf to toss over my shoulder. She gives me a small smile. “To match General Acacius,” she says simply, having seen him depart this morning in his armor.
An hour or so later, I’m sitting in the Emperor’s box, my chair moved to be seated between the Emperors. I clasp my hands together to keep them from fidgeting with my outfit, willing my legs to stop bouncing. A couple of battles go by but I pay them little attention, only noting that the same man with the anger in his eyes seems to have won some more, the crowd now starting to chant his name. Hanno! Hanno! Hanno! Once the arena was cleared and reset, the announcer clears his throat, addressing the crowd.
“This battle will be different. General Acacius has agreed to compete in the fights in the name of Rome!” The crowd, momentarily bewildered, starts cheering and chanting his name. One set of gates open and several armed soldiers exit, walking to the middle of the arena. Then the gates on the other side open and the crowd goes wild. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Marcus struts out into the arena, sword in hand and determination on his face. I hold my breath and I swear my heart stops beating. A few of the soldiers step forward, meeting Marcus halfway. He salutes them, the hand holding his sword pressed to the opposite shoulder as he bows his head slightly, the soldiers copying him.
And then, he dances.
Marcus runs at the first soldier, slashing him down instantly with his sword, coming up to meet the next one. He gets tripped and lands on his back but wastes no time in slashing at their ankles, getting back on his feet only a handful of seconds after he fell. Another soldier slices him across the back and I gasp, seeing Marcus yell in pain before turning to slash at the soldier. 2 more rush him and he parries, a fist making contact with his cheek before he can block it. His sword rises and slices through 2 more soldiers within moments, leaving only one left. The soldier knocks him down but Marcus pulls him with him, angling his sword up so the soldier spears himself upon it as Marcus’s back slams into the ground, his chest heaving.
The crowd goes wild, his name is chanted louder than before, deafening in the echo of the stadium. He rises to his feet, his sword at his side as he looks around, finding me in the Emperor’s box. He puts his fist to his shoulder in salute, bowing to not just the Emperors, but to me. A sigh of relief escapes me as I release the breath I had been holding for what feels like ages. Then a scoff of disappointment reaches my ears.
“Damn. I wanted to see more blood!” Caracalla whines, his monkey screeching once at the rise of his voice.
“Don’t worry brother. You may see more of it soon.”
Rage pours through my veins, my chest heaving against my will to not say or do anything. I swallow hard, turning my gaze to Emperor Geta.
“My lord, may I go and see to my husband?”
His dark eyes bore into mine. “I think they have doctors there that would be better suited to tend his injuries.”
“You are correct of course, but some things require a woman’s touch.”
Geta smirks, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a more menacing way than I think he realizes. “Touche. Go to him.”
“Thank you.” I bow to them both and calmly take my leave, running once I am out of ear shot. I flag down a guard and demand he take me to where they have the fighters, specifically, the General. He escorts me across the arena and down a few tunnels until we come to a giant barred wall with a barred door set into it. He knocks and a man comes to it.
“Is the general here?”
The guard shakes his head. “Healer’s room. Next gate over.” I thank them both and run to the door, my hand raised to knock before I realize it’s not locked. I walk inside and see…no one. No one is here. I walk back outside and look around. Nothing. But then he rounds the corner, a man following next to him, trying to dab at a scratch on his face. He sees me and his entire demeanor shifts. I run to him, throwing my arms around him the moment we collide. He pushes me against the wall, his hands cupping my face, pressing his heated lips to mine, his thigh sliding between my legs. The man clears his throat but if Marcus hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge him. He merely walks me backwards to the healer’s door and kicks it open, the healer complaining and throwing his hands in the air when Marcus slams it behind us with his foot.
He walks me backwards, our lips still dancing when my back collides with the exam table. He gropes at my tunic, bunching it up to my hips as he grips them, lifting me up on the table. He shifts himself and pushes into me with a grunt, my lips breaking the kiss as I gasp. His fingers are deep and bruising as he holds my hip with one hand, hitching my thighs around him with the other before slamming it down on the table, giving himself more leverage to thrust deeper and harder, the adrenaline from the fight fueling his desires. I bite his lip and he growls, pressing me further into the table with each thrust as I cling to his broad shoulders. My muscles tighten, my blood pulsing between my thighs as I cum, Marcus swallowing my moans with his mouth. He thrusts into me a few more times before he bites my shoulder, grunting and moaning as he spills himself inside of me. We stay like that, attached and breathing heavily for several long moments, his forehead now pressed to my chest. I raise an arm weakly, running my fingers through his hair. Finally he looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine.
“Did I hurt you?”
I smile, shaking my head. “You never do.”
He seems to realize where we are now, straightening up and pulling himnself from me with a hiss. I slide my tunic back down and stand up, adjusting my clothes.
“I am sorry, Cornelia. I lost myself.”
I cock my head. “Sorry for?”
He gestures around. “It is…not exactly the most private place.”
I stand in front of him and grip him by the armor, looking up into his eyes. “You could fuck me in front of the entire Roman army and I’d beg you to do it again.”
His eyes darken, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really? Because I could make that-”
“Excuse me? Sir?” The healer is at the door, cautiously knocking and trying to avert his eyes. “I need to tend to your wounds. If…if I may?”
Marcus and I exchange a smirk. “Yes. I am…sorry. I get carried away by the sight of my wife.”
The healer chuckles, removing his hand from his eyes and looking at me before looking back at Marcus. “Don’t worry, sir. I have the same reaction to my wife. Which is why we have so many children.”
The next night, we are wakened by a knock at the door. Marcus sits up and pulls on his tunic, gesturing for me to stay in bed. He comes back in a moment later, his eyes concerned.
“It’s Lucilla. Did you send home Leta?”
I nod. “Yes. No one should be here until morning. Is everything ok?”
“I don’t know. Get something on an come out.”
I do as he says, quickly pulling over a tunic and a sleeping robe before I head out, seeing Marcus already pouring a glass of wine for Lucilla. She thanks him and takes a nervous sip, looking at me as I walk over.
“Can I speak freely?” She addresses Marcus, glancing back at me.
Marcus nods. “She knows. Is everything alright?”
Lucilla takes a shuddering breath and meets his gaze. “It’s him, Marcus.”
“Who?”
“Lucius. My son. He’s back.”
Marcus is silent for several moments, my mind trying to catch up. I do remember her mentioning a son at one point, but I assumed he’d died, as she stopped talking about him after a certain age.
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “I went to see him. This Hanno? That is him. He hates me, Marcus.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks. Marcus takes her hands in his in an attempt to soother her.
“I am sure that is not true.”
She nods. “He hates me for sending him away.”
“May I speak?” I ask, unsure of my place in this conversation. Lucilla looks up at me, her cheeks glinting in the candlelight with her tears as she nods.
“I was sent away when I was young as well. I don’t think he hates you. He may be upset with you but not hate. I’m sure you didn’t send him away for no reason.”
She shakes her head. “If he had stayed, they would have killed him.”
“Why?” I ask, still not entirely certain I understand Roman politics.
“Because he is the only heir to the Roman throne. The grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”
I know that should mean more than it does to me, but I have heard his name whispered and seen busts of him, mostly in Lucilla’s home. I know he was her father and from what I gather, the last decent Emperor of Rome. When the Emperors still cared about the people.
Marcus address Lucilla. “My troops are only a few days away. Then they will come into Rome to arrest the Emperors as planned.”
“But you will also have to enter the arena again during this time. What happens if you die?”
Marcus’s jaw clenches slightly. “My captain would still carry out my orders.”
Lucilla shakes her head. “I don’t know. This feels like too much time.”
“What if we..speed it up?” I ask. They both look at me questioningly. “It’s just…I’ve had to spend a lot of time with the Emperors over the last few months and…they each hate that they have to split the crown with the other. I can see it in their eyes, their small movements and glances towards each other. There is brotherly love, but there is a lot of hate and jealousy. What if we use that to our advantage?”
“How so?” Lucilla asks.
I take a deep breath, knowing that this will fall heavily on my shoulders. “We pit them against each other. Whisper in their ears rumors that they’d heard about the other one. Maybe about them trying to take the crown for themselves? Anything to drive that wedge. They may just off each other.”
Marcus looks at me. “This sounds very dangerous. And there’s no guarantee that it would be quicker than my troops.”
I take Marcus’s hand. “I’ve had to be around them for months, watching. Observing. Trust me, it’s right under the surface.”
Marcus and Lucilla exchange a look. “It could work, Marcus. She’s not wrong.”
“Yes but she will be in danger. I don’t want that.”
I squeeze his hand and he looks at me. “We’re all in danger the longer we’re here. You don’t think they would try to take you out just to have me? Why do you think you’re in the games? I can do this, Marcus. They would love the attention, especially Geta.”
Lucilla thinks a moment. “They kill each other and my son takes over as heir. Assuming he would want that title. If not, we have a replacement. He already said he would happily stand aside for Lucius.”
Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t know-”
“It would mean far less bloodshed than a battle between soldiers. You know lives are bound to be lost if the soldiers enter Rome by force. This way, only 2 lives should be gone and Rome will be all the better for it.”
Marcus gets up and paces the room, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Finally he sighs and comes back over.
“Let’s do this.”
The next day, I put on a tunic that Geta had complimented me on previously. Leta fixes my hair, half up with some braids pinned around my head. Leta leaves and Marcus takes her place, his hands on my shoulders.
“Are you sure, Cornelia?”
I place a hand over his and squeeze. “This will work. I’m sure.”
An hour later, and I find myself tossing my head back with fake laughter at something Caracalla said. I gently touch Geta’s arm as tears stream down his face from laughter.
“And his head just popped! Clean off! Rolled right across the floor!” Caracalla continues to laugh, turning to one of the men he has surrounding him, who immediately gives him all of his attention. I pick up my glass of wine, thinking of what to say.
“You’re so kind with that,” I nod in Caracalla’s direction, speaking to Geta as I take a sip.
“Kind? With what?”
I turn and look at him, leaning a little closer, Geta matching my lean. “You allow your brother to go on and on about violence without worrying. It’s clear it means a lot to him.”
“Yes, I am kind…but…I don’t quite catch your meaning here?”
I look up at him, swallowing down the bile in my throat at his close proximity. “Weren’t the two men in his story brothers? Who both tried to control their family farm?”
He shakes his head. “So?”
“So..well, I just thought…oh nevermind.”
Geta shifts his body to face me, leaning closer. “Tell me. Speak freely.”
I hold my wine glass in front of my mouth, as if I’m telling him a secret. “Well, it’s sort of like you and your brother. Twins, having to share the crown. Him being above you being he was born first-”
“He is not above me!” Geta whispers angrily.
I avert my eyes. “I am sorry, Emperor Geta. I was merely repeating what he’d said to me.” It’s not entirely a lie. I had heard Caracalla speaking about how he was born first and so he was first ruler. But he didn’t say it to me directly.
Fire burned in Geta’s eyes as they shifted from me to Caracalla. “And what else did my brother say?”
“Oh I shouldn’t-”
Geta grips my forearm tightly. “Tell. Me.”
So I launch into a small story I’d made up, planting more and more seeds of doubt in his mind.
That night at their dinner party, I walk up to Caracalla, speaking to his monkey. We chat about monkeys for a moment, Caracalla glancing over my shoulder every so often.
“I’m sorry, Emperor, is there something I’m keeping you from?”
“Hhmm? Oh no. It’s just..” He leans in closer to me. “Geta has been looking at me oddly all day. Like he’s upset.”
I glance over at Geta, who is currently involved in a conversation with a Senator. “I- well I shouldn’t say.”
Caracall looks at me. “Tell me.”
“Well, earlier I heard someone talking about how you’re first born so you’re the first Emperor.”
He nods. “I was and am.”
“Yes, well, Emperor Geta overheard that and was furious. He started telling everyone he was the main Emperor. Not you.”
“Oh really?” The same rage that fired up in Geta’s eyes now burned in his brothers. “He’s always been jealous of me!”
“Well, you do have a great monkey.”
Caracalla looks at me for a moment and then laughs. “You’re right! I do! Come, let me show you how he can dance!”
2 days and I’m spent. I cannot stroke their egos any more. Unfortunately, Marcus is to compete today, hopefully the last battle he will have to do. This time I wake with him, Marcus putting his head between my thighs before I can even move. When I try to pull him up, he declines, saying he needs to save up the energy. Something about it being good for battle.
“As long as you come home and fuck me into this bed.”
Marcus groans, kissing one of my boobs. “That is a promise. But now, I must get ready or I will simply stay in bed all day.”
“That sounds better. Let’s do that.”
He chuckles, kissing me deeply before pushing himself up and getting dressed, the same armor as he’d worn a few days previously. He cups my face, kissing me gently before looking into my eyes.
“I love you. Be safe.”
Gods his eyes are all big and brown. “I love you. Please come back to me.”
“Now this is another special fight!” The announcer speaks to the crowd. “The strong General Acacius!” The gate at one end of the arena opens and Marcus struts out of it, sword in hand, as he walks to the middle of the arena as the crowd screams his name.The announcer waits a moment, letting the crowd settle a little. “Against the mighty barbarian, Hanno!” The crowd cheers for him too, a mix of names chanting around the arena.
I feel Lucilla behind me, trying not to make a scene. This is not something we anticipated. Marcus should not be fighting Hanno, I mean, Lucius, to the death! My pulse speeds up, my blood quickly pumping through me. Marcus turns, seeing Lucius angrily strutting towards him. But before he gets even part way, Geta stands and addresses his captain.
“Make sure your bows are fixed on Acacius. If he wins, kill him.”
“What??” I gasp out, staring up at Emperor Geta in complete shock. He smiles, the dark makeup around his eyes making them look even more menacing than usual. He sits down next to me, leaning in, a small hand placed on my thigh.
“Do not worry, my dear. No one will question me and I will free you from this marriage so you can be with me.”
I can feel the color drain from my face. “Emperor Geta, I am..flattered, but I made an oath-”
“And I’ll help you to break it! My wedding gift to you!”
Shit. I flew too close to the sun on this one and Geta took it as flirting. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing I can do. They collide in front of me, swords slashing, Lucius headbutting Marcus as he stumbles, quickly regaining his footing as Lucius slams into him, Marcus using his weight to flip him on his back. Lucius swipes at Marcu’s feet as he leaps back, coming up to lunge at him again, the two men grappling. Lucius manages to slam his hand into Marcus, who relents, turning to shove Lucius into the ground. They roll, Marcus jumping up and to the side as Lucius swipes his sword, barely missing him. But when he rights himself, I can see that Marcus has no weapon.
Lucius gestures to the staff on the ground with his sword and Marcus picks it up, both of them lunging back into battle, the staff quickly snapping in two. Marcus manages to knock Lucius’s head, momentarily stunning him enough he could get behind him in a chokehold. Lucius flings his head back and Marcus stumbles, quickly rallying with a sucker punch to Lucius’s stomach. They clash again, Lucius dropping to the ground after a few moments, getting back up with a smile on his face. They talk for a moment, but then Marcus throws his weapons on the ground, dropping to his knees, and raising his hand in surrender. My stomach churns and I nearly vomit. What is he thinking?
“Acacius has raised his hand! He has surrendered!” The announcer yells. “Let the Gods decide!”
I feel Geta shift beside me, but I grab his arm. “Wait!”
Geta looks down at my hand and then into my eyes. “My love, the Gods will speak through me and this will all be over soon.”
I squeeze his arm, willing my nerves to just give me a moment to think. “I know, but I think we should have a toast. After all, he is your General.”
Geta studies me for a moment. Then he nods and I feel momentarily relieved. “Good idea.” He holds up a hand to request a pause. “The Gods are…deciding!”
While he is distrtacted, I get up, taking the offered glasses of wine, my palla swiftly passing over Geta’s as I hand it to him, my own glass poised for a toast.
“To us, my dear. And to the Gods.” Geta proclaims.
“To the Gods,” I say back, lifting my glass. I see Geta take a sip and turn to Caracalla, who was just taking his goblet from the tray, having had to adjust the monkey on his shoulder. He picks it up and nearly presses it to his lips before I grip his wrist. “Dont!”
Caracalla freezes. “What? Why?”
“It’s poisoned!”
And that is all it takes to crumble two Emperors.
Caracalla stands up, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “It was you! You tried to poison me!”
Geta’s eyes are wild. I can tell he’d thought about poisoning his brother. “I did not! Do you hear yourself, brother?”
But it’s too late. Caracalla’s eyes are wide and nearly black with rage as he steps closer to Geta. “You were always jealous I was first! First out of the womb, more loved by mother, and HEAD EMPEROR!”
Geta’s fists ball up. “You are NOT first Emperor!”
Caracalla laughs manically and I take this moment to sneak out from between them. I don’t want to get caught in that.
“Jealous! You can’t even admit that I have a higher station than you! So much that you try to poison me?”
Geta’s eyes are wild with anger, spit flying from his mouth as he steps up to Caracalla, yelling “I wish I had done it because you deserve to die!”
Caracalla gasps, momentarily frozen before looking down, the red blood seeping quickly through his white tunic, a knife embedded in him. Geta quickly removes it, watching as his brother drops to the ground, his body moving no more after a moment. Geta tries to straighten up, but he clutches at his stomach.
“He…he was mad! He was…he would have…what…is happening?” Geta drops to the ground, groaning and yelling in pain as he clutches his stomach. A servant tries to help him but he yells in their face, the color draining from him as his breathing becomes labored. And then his gaze goes blank, his head dropping against the ground.
For a moment, no one moves. But then the captain snaps me out of it as he commands his troops. “Keep your bows on him! Stand your ground!”
I quietly sneak to a soldier and, in a move Marcus had taught me, hit a certain spot on his shoulder that send him tumbling, but not before I grab his bow and notch an arrow, another in my hand.
“Move!” I yell and the crowd parts as I raise my bow and aim it at the bewildered captain.
I summon all the courage I have, not just for me but for protecting Marcus, and command “Tell your men to stand down!”
The captain just looks at me, almost smirking. “And what are you going to do with that, little girl?”
I loose the arrow and it glides into the pole just next to his head. By the time his head snaps back to look at me, I’ve notched the next arrow.
“I don’t want to kill you. Look around. Your Emperors are dead from greed and jealousy. Drop your weapons and pledge yourself to your new emperor.”
Still bewildered, the captain takes a moment to respond. “And who might that be?”
“The grandson of Marcus Aurelius and heir to the throne, Lucius Varius Aurelius.” I nod towards Lucius in the arena, my bow still aimed at the captain.
“Lucius…he’s alive?” The captain asks.
“He is.” Lucilla comes up beside me, addressing the captain. “I can confirm it.”
He thinks a moment. “Well then. Stand down, men.” He watches me as I wait, watching all of the archers to make sure they’ve all put down their bows. When I’m sure, I lower mine as well.
The captain turns towards the arena. “Lucius Varius Aurelius! I pledge myself to you!” He salutes, one fist against his opposite shoulder as he drops to one knee, his soldiers all following suit. Soon the entire arena follows, everyone bowing to Lucius who, bless him, looks completely out of his element. He tentatively raises a hand and everyone cheers, chanting his name as it echoes across the stonework.
As the crowd continues to chant and cheer their new Emperor, I drop the bow and run down the back steps, moving as fast as I can towards the gladiator entrance. The guards, having seen me before, fling the gates open and I sprint past them, moving quickly into the arena. The crowds are still chanting Lucius’s name, but my eyes are purely for one man. Marcus turns his head, seeing me coming for him and stands, his chest heaving from fighting and tension, but he still jogs towards me. We crash into each other, Marcus picking me up, his lips finding mine like they were meant to. He pushes his tongue into my willing mouth and I taste sweat and blood mixed in with his scent. The crowd notices as they change from Lucius to ooooo! I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to his for a moment before I look into his eyes, so soft and warm. A small clearing of the throat comes to me and we turn our heads, looking at Lucius.
“Hi,” He does a little wave. “Uh what the fuck just happened?”
We laugh, Marcus placing me back down on the ground. He drops back down to his knee, saluting him. “I, General Acacius, do pledge myself to you, Emperor Lucius.”
Lucius’s eyes widen even more. “What if I don’t want this?”
“You have a choice. If you think this is not your fate, there is another who will take your place. But he is happy to step aside for the grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”
He nods, still looking uncertain. “But what if I don’t know what to do?”
I smile at him, stepping closer. “Your mother, and her trusted people, will guide you.”
He nods again, turning back to Marcus. “Rise. Or whatever.” He extends a hand and helps Marcus to his feet. “I totally would’ve had you.”
“Keep dreaming, Emperor.”
4 years later on an olive farm outside of the capital…
The light streams in through the window on my face, gently waking me to a new day. I blink my eyes open slowly, stretching lazily. I try to sit up, but a large arm wraps around my bare torso and pulls me close to his own bare body, burying his face in my neck.
“Marcus,” my voice laced with sleep. “It’s time to wake. The twins will be up soon.”
Marcus groans, a quiet “No” emanating from his chest. “Let the servants cook them breakfast today.”
I chuckle. “They do love Leta’s breakfast. But you also have that meeting with the other olive farmers today.”
Marcus starts to kiss a spot on my neck, applying more pressure so as to leave a mark. He lets it go, nuzzling the spot with his nose as the skin reddens. He continues to kiss my shoulder, gently pushing me on my back as he slots his massive frame between my legs. He stares down at me, softly pushing a stray hair from my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says in awe.
I trace the scar on his cheek with my finger. “Not as beautiful as you.”
He kisses me and then pulls back to nip at my chin. “The farmers can wait. I plan on putting as many babies in you as you’ll let me.”
He pushes into me with a moan, my head pushing back into the bed as he gently slides his hips against mine, taking his time to make sure he gets evey sound, every ounce of pleasure he can from me.
And when I come downstairs and see him play wrestling with the twins, I think about how lucky I was that my brother tried to use me as a pawn all those years ago. Sure, it was hell enduring my brother, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?
Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
General Marcus Acacius Masterlist
A New Life Masterlist
The next morning, Marcus wakes early and I help him slide him armor on. I step back and watch him tighten the latches on the side before looking at me, his arms outstretched to his sides.
“Looks good? All latched?”
“Mmhmm,” I tap my chin with my finger. Quickly, I reach up and take the leather barrette from my hair, sliding it under his armor over his chest. I gently place my hand over his armor where it lays and look up at him, his eyes already on me.
“Be safe,” I whisper.
“You as well. Remember what I said.” He reaches out, hesitating a moment before cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, his eyes searching my face. But then he blinks, dropping his hand from me. He turns and strides away, disappearing through the flaps of the tent.
Within the hour, all of the troops move out.
It’s quiet. Every sound in the forest making me jump with anticipation. I try to keep busy, cleaning Marcus’s tent, making sure his clothes are cleaned in the washbin, whatever I can find to keep my mind busy and off the fact that Marcus is out there somewhere, having arrows fired at him, swords swung at his head.
Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and I pop outside, walking straight over to Caius as soon as I did a quick scan of the area. We walk to the edge of the camp, waiting by the back end just in case we need to make a quick getaway. I sing and talk to Caius, trying to calm his nerves as he kicks at the ground. What feels like an eternity later, and somehow, no time at all, we hear voices and footsteps, horses pounding the ground on the other side of camp. I slink back, trying to blend in with Caius as I watch the makeshift gate open, soldiers and horses storming through it.
I breathe a sigh of relief at their armor, immediately knowing it was ours. Rome’s? Whatever country I belong to now. As the soldiers move throughout the camp, I can see many wounds, some soldiers bringing back goods and others just trying to make it to their beds. A very familiar chestnut mount strides through the crowd and my breath catches in my throat as I see him.
Marcus, sitting atop his horse, his hand clutching his arm as blood drips down him.
I take Caius and steer him towards our tent, quickly navigating the ground between us and toss his reins over a low tree branch. I turn and see Marcus sliding off his horse, his eyes full of pain but his expression not betraying it, aside from a slightly awkward landing. He heads straight into the tent.
“Cornelia?” He yells, worry in his tone. Concern.
I run, flinging open the flaps and Marcus spins, relief washing over him at the sight of me. I run to him, but stop just short of his massive frame.
“You’re hurt.”
Marcus shrugs. “A flesh wound. It will heal.” The medic comes into the tent then, a simple sewing kit in his hands. I extend my hand, telling him to give it to me. The soldier hesitates and looks at Marcus, who gives him a nod of consent. The soldier passes me the kit and a jug of wine and leaves the tent.
I turn to Marcus. “Can I help you from your armor?”
“Please.”
We manage to get the armor off without disturbing his gash and I can see just how dirty he is. Mud and dried blood cake his body, his hair matted with it and sweat. He’s still so gorgeous. I grab a small bowl and fill it with water, taking a cloth to clean away the area around the gash. It’s deep but not too bad. A simple stitch should suffice.
“I..I’ve never sewn skin before,” I confess to him as I thread my needle.
“How are your sewing skills?”
“I used to make my own togas and pallas. Embroidery too.”
He nods. “You’ll be fine. Make sure to pour the wine over it first.”
I do as he says and he hisses, his arm flexing in pain. Somehow, I manage to stitch him up, distracting him with random questions to keep the pain at bay. I finish and wrap his arm, watching as he circles his shoulder a couple times to make sure it stays in place. He looks up at me, his eyes big and dark. Unable to help myself, I cup his face, brushing some dirt from his cheek.
“I was so worried about you, Marcus. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
He places his hand over mine, his warmth seeping through me. “It will take more than a sword to my arm to take me from this world. Especially since you saved my life.”
My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” I cock my head to the side.
He points to his chest, where I just now realize there’s a nasty tear in the fabric. “An arrow came for me. Tried to take my life. But the metal and leather from your barrette stopped the tip from piercing my skin.” He pulls down his tunic enough for me to see the bruise, but no cut. “If you had not put it there, I would not be here.” He stands up, my hand falling to his broad chest as he looks down at me, a heat spreading throughout me. “Thank you.” He cups his large hand to my cheek, his eyes moving between mine for a moment before he moves in slowly, giving me time to protest.
Like I would.
His lips press to mine, soft and gentle, but an urgency behind their movement. His hand slides around the back of my head, holding me to him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. A small moan escapes me and he deepens the kiss. My fingers twist in his tunic, desperately trying to get him closer to me. I can feel him pressing against my stomach, hard and wanting, and my body lights with an electricity I hadn’t felt in years.
Even though it kills me to do so, I break the kiss, lingering for a moment before I look at him, his eyes dark, a fire brimming in them. I take his hand and guide him towards our mat. Before I can lay down, he pulls me to him, kissing me with such sweetness and care. He pulls back this time, looking down at me as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His hand continues down my neck and to my shoulder. Gently, he tugs my palla from my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor.
“Lift your arms.”
I do as he says, my entire body alight with anticipation of his touch. He grips my tunic at my hips and pulls it over my head, letting it follow my palla. He takes a step back, letting his eyes slowly roam down my bare body. Not even my late husband took such time for me, almost reverence in his gaze.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” his voice is low, a slight rasp to it. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Then he reaches behind him and yanks his tunic over his body in one swift motion, his underwear quickly following.
Gods he’s gorgeous. Strong and toned from his many years of battle, his body has many scars and marks littering it, some new from this most recent battle and others faded to white lines. A single curl falls across his forehead, his eyes soft but full of desire. He pulls me to him, the warmth from his body spreading over mine, an excited tingling firing throughout me as he kisses me. His hand roams down, stopping to squeeze and touch my breast. I gasp when he pinches my nipple, the sensation zapping straight between my thighs.
He gently guides me to the mat, helping me to lay on my back before he lays his body over mine, my legs falling open to give him more space. He kisses me, his lips trailing down my neck to suck on a spot that has me gasping again. He pulls back, shoulder muscles flexing, his eyes on my face as he presses into me.
“Oh!” Is all I can manage. He’s larger than my husband was, but he’s taking care, slowly moving his hips to allow me to adjust.
Once his hips are flush against mine, he studies my face. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “Yes, just…you feel so good, Marcus.”
He smiles, a soft smile, tucking some hair behind my ear again. He moves, pressing deep into me before hitching my leg over his hip. Our grunts and moans fill the tent, Marcus’s hand sliding up to hold mind, our fingers linking together. The warmth in my body builds fast and then explodes, his name rolling off my tongue in praise. Another press of his hips and he grunts, eyes closed in bliss. He drops his head to my chest for several moments, practically purring when I run my fingers through his hair, something I had been dying to do since the moment I first saw him. He rolls off me with a hiss, pulling the blanket over us. His hand settles on my stomach and I turn my head to watch him in the darkness.
“No regrets?” He asks me, worry in his voice.
I cup his cheek. “Just that it took us this long to get here.”
As we continue to travel, Marcus and I spend as much time as is possible together. Sometimes that’s in the form of him waking me as he presses into me, a hand clamped over my mouth so I don’t wake the camp. Other times it’s simply a meal, chatting about anything and everything. He has so many amazing stories, some sad and others happy or fantastical. He also rides by me, sometimes racing ahead of his troops, our adrenaline taking us behind the closest tree as I lift my tunic for him.
He has also taken to teaching me archery, or expanding on my limited knowledge. My father had snuck me a bow and arrows when I was little and I practiced in secret where I could. My deceased husband had even built a little private range for me and hired a tutor. But once he passed, those things went away and I had to hide my skill.
I’ll admit some of my favorite times are when he comes back from battle, covered in blood and dirt, fueled by fighting. The first time he did this, he came into the tent where I had prepared a meal. I turned, only managing to get his name out as he stomped across the tent, eyes dark and full of fire. He kissed me hard, gripping my hips roughly and spun me around, bending me over the table as he pulled himself free, pounding into me hard enough that everything on the table clattered to the floor. He wound his fingers in my hair and yanked me up, holding me to his chest as he fucked me, whispering dark and dirty things in my ear, grunting as I clenched around him, his own release just behind mine. He had apologized profusely once he saw how sore I was, a few bruises left behind. But I begged him to do it again, and he definitely has delivered.
But today is different. He’s on his horse next to me, quiet. Pensive. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words from him the entire ride. It’s not until we’ve made camp and were sitting at his table eating that he speaks. He sets down his fork and clears his throat.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
I set my fork down as well, dabbing my mouth with a napkin before turning all of my attention to him. He looks…nervous. “What is it?”
He takes a deep breath. “We are nearing the end of our campaign.”
My eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s good news, right?”
He nods. “Yes. But it’s more than that. We all get to go home. Some will return, others may not. But home for me, is the capital. Rome.”
“You live in the capital? That makes sense. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
He places his upturned hand on the table, bending his fingers to ask for mine. I acquiesce, his skin always feeling warm and comforting. His eyes bore into mine and I feel like he’s reading me again.
“I want to give you another chance to leave.”
I can feel the color drain from my face. “You…you want me to leave?”
“No! No, I do not. But the capital is not…it is a great city to be sure, but it is also very dangerous. I want to give you a chance to go and live a life away from it.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. My place is by your side. If…if you’ll have me.” My throat feels tight as I choke back tears.
With his free hand, Marcus leans closer and cups my face. “I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. Is that what you truly want? You do not owe me anything.”
“It is. I…I love you, Marcus.”
His eyes start to water, but then he swallows hard to stop them. “You do?”
I nod furiously. “I have for some time, I think.”
With the hand on my cheek, he pulls me to him, kissing me softly. “I love you too.”
We make out for a few minutes before he pulls back, taking my hand again. “As much as I want to have you, we have something else to discuss.”
“Oh?”
“Since you have decided to stay with me, I…just know this is not the way I would have done it, but your safety is everything to me, and the capital is dangerous. The Emperors-”
“Marcus?”
He takes another deep breath. “I think we should be married before we reach Rome.”
Marriage. That is what’s causing him to not quite look me in the eye? Like he’s afraid I’ll say no? Or afraid I’ll say yes?
“Why is it important we do it before Rome?”
He leans in to my ear, pretending like he’s going to kiss me there, but instead whispers. “The Emperors can be…dangerous. They like to play games and they like to take spoils of war. If you are not married, they may command you to join them.”
“Oh.”
He pulls back, keeping his face only inches from mine, his eyes large and wide. “If this were not so, I would court you, ask you to marry me in a romantic way. But our time is running out and I need to keep you safe. So..what is your answer?”
I look into his eyes, a small smile on my lips. “Marcus, I would’ve married you the day you rescued me. But now? After getting to know you, falling in love with you? I would marry you behind the latrine.”
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling. “So that’s a yes?”
“Yes!”
We had a simple wedding ceremony, his trusted captain marrying us. Marcus slides a hastily made iron ring onto my finger and I do the same for him.
“It’s not much, but I promise to get you something nice when we reach Rome.”
I don’t care about the ring personally, but I can see it means a lot to him. Also, he is the General of Rome, so I’m sure he has to have a certain appearance. The closer we get to the city, the more anxious his eyes get, and the closer by his side he keeps me. We stop in the Port of Ostia, and Marcus escorts me to a room at a nearby inn. It’s been what feels like ages since I slept in an actual bed and not a roll. This one isn’t the best but it’s better than the ground for sure. The next day while we’re eating breakfast, a soft knock raps on the door. I look at Marcus who has a small smile on his face as he gets up to answer it. A person enters in a hooded cloak, hesitating just inside the room while Marcus closes the door. As soon as he does, the hood comes back and reveals an absolutely stunning woman, her golden hair twisted half up on her head in gorgeous braids, her golden tunic forming to her body.
“General Acacius. I am happy to see you alive.”
“Likewise, Princess Lucilla.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it and I’m not a tiny bit jealous about it. Nope. Not me. Marcus crosses the room and offers me his hand and I take it, standing up from my chair.
“Princess Lucilla, may I introduce Cornelia, my wife.”
Lucilla glances at Marcus for a moment before looking at me, her eyes scanning down my body and back up. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
Pretty thing? What am I, 14? Marcus squeezes my hand ever so slightly, my signal to be nice. “Thank you, Princess, but I’m sure that title belongs to you.” To my utter surprise, she laughs, her head falling back with it.
“You didn’t tell me she was witty? You’ll fit right in at court. Just..be careful, with your carefully worded insults, yes?”
I nod. “Understood.”
She pulls a lavender spring from somewhere and holds it beneath her nose, taking a small sniff as she studies me. “I think my seamstress can have her new tunic sewn fast enough. It may not be perfect but it will be fine for the ceremony.”
I turn to look at Marcus. “What celebration? What’s going on?”
Marcus sighs. “When I return to the city after a campaign, the Emperors like to make a..spectacle. I wish they wouldn’t, but they request I ride through the city on a chariot, in my finest armor, and receive my laurels.”
Lucilla turns to him. “General Acacius here sent for me to help you prepare.”
I turn to Lucilla now. “Help me? For what? And why would he ask you?”
She looks at Marcus again. “Have you never spoken of me?”
Marcus shrugs. “Never saw the need to.”
Lucilla turns back to me. “Your husband and I have known each other for a long time. I trust him fully and he me.” She glances at Marcus who nods. She leans in a little closer to me, speaking quietly. “We are both for a free Rome.”
“Is Rome not already free?”
She chuckles, but not in a mean way. “My dear, you have a lot to learn. Which is why he asked me here. To dress you for this ceremony, yes, but to tell you more about what to do or say, or what not to do or say in the capital. Especially as a woman. It is a beautiful city, but it is dangerous.”
I look at Marcus who takes my hands, giving them a little squeeze. “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I was afraid someone would hear me. The world is full of spies. The Princess isn’t technically allowed outside of the city.”
I look at Lucilla, who is smirking slightly. “Oh? So you’re a rebel?”
She chuckles. “In the eyes of the Emperors, I was born one. As my father was Marcus Aurelius.”
Now that name I had heard of and my eyes go wide. “Well I can see why they’d feel…threatened.”
She nods and then claps her hands together. “Now, shall we begin?”
Pairing: Marcus (Pike, Moreno, Acacius) x f!reader
Word Count: 6900+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: I saw a post from @pimosworld innocently asking for a Marcus bachlorette style fic and, while this isn't exactly right, this is what my brain came up with. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble and helping me, as well as @vanemando15 for being a cheerleader!
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Marcus Moreno Masterlist
Marcus Pike Masterlist
Marcus Acacius Masterlist
“Thanks for coming to Level Up Comics!” I smile at the customer as I hand them their bag, a quiet grunt all I get in return before they head out the door, the little bell jingling with their exit. I stretch, walking around from behind the counter and heading back towards the display case where several boxes sit in front, unopened figurines and collectibles pouring from them. My family and friends thought I was crazy for opening a physical media store in this age of digital products. They said no one would come in let alone want to actually buy “this crap.”
But here I am, a few years after opening, and I’m doing pretty good for myself. There are still collectors out there who want their favorites in case something happens to their files. They want the figurines from the original manufacturers, rather than printing them themselves. I can’t blame them. There’s something different, something magical about reading the printed word, having a figure of your favorite character that was made decades ago by something other than a 3D printer in someone’s basement.
The bell jingles and I yell out a greeting, shoving a few more figures in the back of the case before standing and turning, a pair of dark brown eyes meeting mine. I can already feel the smile on my face.
“Hi, Marcus!” Shit, was that too enthusiastic? If it is, he doesn’t let on, his own smile shyly spreading across his face. “How…how are you?”
He rubs the back of his neck with his large hand, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m..I’m good. You?”
“Good. That’s good. I mean, I’m good. Good. It’s all…good.” What the fuck?
He chuckles lightly, looking anywhere but at me. “Good.”
We’re both silent for several moments. He’s so hot. Way out of my league hot. And the weird thing is, I don’t even think he realizes just how attractive he is.
“Did my back issue of X-Men come in?”
“Oh!” I slap my forehead. “I almost forgot! Yes. Let me get that for you.” Trying desperately to hide the heat in my cheeks, I quickly walk around the counter, kneeling to sift through the special order pile.
“You got more figures in?”
“Yeah,” I yell from my crouched position. “There’s a few bins in the back I haven’t emptied yet. Feel free to have a look!”
“Thanks.” I hear him shuffle off towards the back of the shop just as I locate his order. The door bell dings again and I stand, smoothing down my jeans. A man stands at the counter, his bright blue eyes roaming up and down my body before her plasters on the most ingenuine smile I’ve ever seen.
“Hi. How can I help you?” I ask him as I place Marcus’s order on the counter.
“Hi beautiful. I’m looking for a comic.”
I internally sigh. I already know where this is going. It happens several times a week.
“Well you’ve come to the right shop. What are you looking for?”
He chuckles, intending to be endearing. It isn’t. “I’m looking for a very specific issue of Hawkeye. You know who that is?”
Seriously? “I am very familiar with Hawkeye. Are you?”
He scoffs. “Haha. You’re a funny, pretty thing. Anyway, I’m looking for a specific run of his. Do you know what that means?”
Anger surges through me and I grip the desk to ground myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marcus at the back of the store, standing and turning towards us but not moving. He’s even hot in my peripheral.
“Which run are you looking for? Or are you wanting a recommendation?”
He laughs, the vile sound of it echoing off the walls. “A recommendation? From you? What would you know? You’re just a pretty little girl.”
A clunk from the back of the store and I see Marcus trip over one of the boxes. He doesn’t go down, but turns to fix the boxes that he’s kicked over. The man in front of me is unphased, his eyes still on me, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Well?” He spits out.
I look at him, giving him a smile. “Well, if you’re asking me personally, my favorite run is the Matt Fraction run. Not only because of his artistic style and great story, but the fact that they weaved in Clint’s deafness, drawing him wearing his hearing aids, and even doing an entire issue completely in American Sign Language. A great story and representation of a marginalized community from, in my opinion, one of the best and most relatable Avengers. Now, would you like the individual issues, an omnibus, or the digital version?”
The smug smile slowly fades from his face, his eyes hardening. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”
“I do when customers act like a bitch.”
He grabs the fliers on the counter and throws them at me, turning towards the door. “Fuck you and this place!” He tries to slam the door behind him but he fumbles with the handle, flipping me off one final time before disappearing around the corner.
I sigh, bending down to pick up the fliers. A hand reaches out, large and inviting, carefully helping me pick up the scattered papers. I look up at him, at Marcus, sweet Marcus. Who had heard all of that.
“I’m sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”
He hands me the small stack he’s collected, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize for standing up to a sexist asshole. I should be the one who’s sorry.”
I combine our stacks, both of us standing as I tap them on the counter to even them out. “Why should you apologize?”
“I should’ve come to help,” he rubs the back of his neck, his ear turning slightly pink.
I shake my head. “No, Marcus don’t worry about it. I get assholes like that all the time. Really, it’s ok.”
He shakes his head. “It’s really not-”
To my own surprise, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “Really, I’m ok. Thank you, Marcus.”
He smiles at me, opening his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from inside his pocket. “Sorry. Sorry.” He pulls it out, tapping on the clear screen only he can see. “Shit. I have to take this. Work. You sure you’re ok?”
I smile, trying not to show my sadness at his leaving. “I am. Hope everything’s ok at work.”
“Thanks. I’ll uh…see you around.” His eyebrows pull together as his phone rings again, his eyes moving down to the screen before he turns around and heads out the door, pausing to give me a wave through the window before he disappears into the crowd.
I’ll never meet a man owning this shop. They’re either assholes, taken, or hopelessly out of my league. My own phone beeps and I pull it out, scanning the clear screen with my reservation confirmation. I tap the confirm button, nerves flooding my system.
I can’t believe I signed up for a virtual version of the bachelorette.
—----
I closed the shop early and rushed home to get ready for that night. I arrive promptly at 7pm as they requested, the giant VIRTUAL LIFE logo on the side of the building bathing the sidewalk in bright blue light. I take a deep breath and walk inside, the door disappearing momentarily to let me in before reappearing behind me. The front desk assistant guides me to a row of elevators and instructs me to head to floor 28. I’m the only one in the elevator, the lights illuminating each floor as we pass it. The elevator stops and the doors open to a small waiting room, black leather couches and chairs surround a coffee table with several tablets, each loaded with some form of entertainment. While it looks like there are windows, if you look closely, you can tell they’re simulated, trying to grant us as much privacy as possible. Although, I think it may be more about guarding their own technology secrets.
“Ivy?” a woman calls my name from the only doorway in the room aside from the elevator. I nod, standing and smoothing down my dress.
“That’s me.”
“Right this way.” She leads me into another small office, a simple desk with a single chair for me to sit in. She sits opposite me at the desk, tapping in mid air at what I’m assuming is the computer screen in front of her.
“Ivy it says here you signed up for the bachelorette program to meet a compatible mate. Is that correct?”
Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Y-yeah.”
She taps a few more things. “Great. Do you know how this works?”
“You guys take a picture of my brain and show me a story?”
She chuckles, the first time her professional demeanor has broken. “Almost but not quite. After we’re done here, you will be taken to the simulation room. You’ve already done your physical-”
“Yeah. They had me put on this suit and they captured the way I moved. Motion capture, I think?”
She nods. “Yes that’s it exactly. This way, your avatar inside your world will move like you. It helps with immersion.” I nod. “They also completed your brain scan to find the most viable dates and look of mate that you are searching for. You indicated you’re looking for a male mate, is that correct?”
I nod. “Yeah. Yes.”
She nods. “Alright. If you’ll go through the door, someone in scanning will take you. Good luck!” She gestures to a door on the opposite wall from where we entered. I go through the door and another woman greats me, leading me to chair where she has me sit and get comfortable. It reminds me of what the dentist chairs used to look like except way more comfortable. She turns to me, holding a helmet with different little lights on it.
“Any questions?”
“Yeah. So what will he..I mean, how will I know who he is?”
“You will just know. Sort of like in a regular video game, where you can tell who is important to talk to.”
“Ok..but…will he look like him or?”
That’s reassuring. But then she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t forget, he will be there too also looking for you.”
She shakes her head. “Your algorithm took in your scan and will give him the appearance of someone you find appealing or comforting. We’ve found it’s easier to accept someone if they have an outward appearance you’re already familiar with.”
“So you base connections on personality as opposed to looks?”
She nods. “Those relationships have the highest success rate, so yes.”
“And after, will you show me who he is?”
She nods. “In the simulation, you’ll go on 3 dates. They may be something as simple as communicating in an office to being a superhero or even traveling back in time. The algorithm takes both of your likes, dislikes, and desires and places you in situations. The more you play along and immerse yourself, or yourselves, into the simulation, the better the outcome, meaning a closer connection. And don’t worry - you cannot be physically harmed. And if it’s too much or you want to stop, you only need to say “End simulation”. Please be aware that time may pass differently in the simulation, but you will only be in for an hour. After, you will both meet here, in reality, and can determine whether you’d like to continue with a relationship or not. Any more questions?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.”
She places the helmet on my head, the nodes all changing different colors as it comes in contact with me. She squeezes my shoulder and I look up at her. “Just relax and try to go with the theme. It’s more fun that way, ok?”
I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
“Good luck!” She taps a button on her clear screen and my vision fades to black so just a couple of seconds. But then I’m blinking awake, the tips of my fingers tingling and my toes feeling like they just woke up. My vision starts to clear and the room comes into focus. I’m sitting at a bar, a fancier bar, which explains the nice dress. As my hearing levels out, I realize that the blonde man to my right is talking to me, his body shifted in my direction. His grey eyes are slightly unsettling. This can’t be my mate, can it?
“...and so I had them fired! Can you imagine? I asked for my steak to be medium and they brought it out medium well. That will teach that guy to listen to the customer at his next job.” Grey Eyes chuckles and takes a sip of the drink in front of him. He nods towards the glass in front of me. “Do you want another?”
“What? Oh, uh sure.”
He flags the bartender down and orders a rum and coke before making a show of leaning on his beefy arm against the bar. “I’m glad you finally saw reason and agreed to come out with me tonight.”
I give him a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” This doesn’t feel right. Maybe they got it wrong? Someone bumps into me from behind and grey eyes catches me, glaring at the person who bumped me, who had moved on.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah. It’ll take more than a drunk asshole to bring me down.” Grey Eyes laughs, picking up his glass and holding it up towards me. “I’ll drink to that.” I glance down to grab my drink, only to find it wasn’t there. I look back at Grey Eyes and see him frozen in place, the smirk on his face completely gone, his glass shaking as he continues to hold it in mid air. My glass appears next to his, lightly clicking against his glass.
“Now that’s not very nice.” That voice. I would know his voice anywhere. My entire body relaxes as I turn to look into the dark brown eyes that I love so much.
“Marcus!” I exclaim, ignoring the vein in grey eye’s neck that’s threatening to pop. Marcus on the other hand, looks good. I mean, he always looks good to me but he’s dressed in nice black pants and a light blue button up shirt with matching black jacket. I’m not sure how a blue shirt makes his brown eyes pop, but it does. Marcus pushes his black frames up his nose.
“Hey, Ivy. Sorry to interrupt your date, but this not so kind gentlemen put a little something in your drink.”
“He what?” I blink rapidly a few times, trying to pry my eyes away from him. Grey Eyes vein relaxes somewhat and he sputters out.
“Fuck you man! We’re on a date! What….what are you doing to me?”
Marcus shrugs. “Well, you wanted to make it so she can’t move. Only fair if I return the favor.”
Grey Eyes goes to say something else, but then seems to recognize the man standing next to me, his eyes going wide.
“Aren’t you the guy that can move metal?”
My eyes snap to Marcus, who is smiling. “I see I have a fan.”
Grey Eyes tries to backtrack. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I was just trying to get her to loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”
Marcus looks at me, his brown eyes wide and smiling. “Ivy, do you wish to continue your date with this man?”
“Nope.” I pop the “p” sound at the end of the word. “Little hard to have fun when my date is trying to render me unconscious.”
Marcus waves the bartender over. “Call the police. This man is in possession of Freeze Me.”
A handful of what felt like seconds later, several officers show up and arrest Grey Eyes, who barely puts up a struggle. I turn towards Marcus, my smile stretching my face as I grab his arm. “My hero.”
His eyes dart around the room, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”
Gosh he’s so cute when he does that neck rub thing. Wait. Gotta play along.
“Is Marcus the Metal Bender actually acting shy around me?”
He chuckles nervously and I think how perfect they coded him. Like he was picked out of my brain. Which I guess he was.
“Just trying to be respectful.”
I wish he wouldn’t. Wait, are we even allowed to have sex in here? Wow, getting ahead of yourself there, Ivy.
“Youwannagetoutofhere?” He speaks so fast it all comes out in a jumble and I cock my head to the side.
“What?”
He swallows hard and I can’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Hell yeah I do.”
—-
It’s a few weeks later, or at least it feels like some time has passed. That lady did say time passes differently here. Now I’m in an office building, a stack of files in my arms, walking down the hall. A quick glance around tells me I’m in the Heroics head quarters. Marcus appears from around the corner and looks up at me, smiling and walking towards me. But then a man in a much too tight blue suit with a glowing M on it joins him, Marcus’s shoulders sagging slightly as he gives me a sad little wave.
“When are you two going to go on a date already?” A woman with bright pink hair appears next to me.
“I uh, me?”
She slaps my shoulder. “Yes, you Ivy.” She leans in closer to my ear. “Aren’t you the one who confessed to having a crush on our heroic leader?”
I will the heat rising in my face to not show. “Oh, I uh..I-”
“You know he likes you too.” Her jaw drops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Oh don’t tell me you can’t tell! That man can hardly look at you and he’s taken down alien forces by just staring at them.”
She feels like a close friend so I go with it. “Yeah, ok I like him. Keep your voice down, will you?” She continues walking with me to the end of the hall where I deposit the stack of files into several slots, each one making a small whoosh sound as they’re whisked away to their destinations.
When I’m done, Pink Hair gently grabs my face and turns me to her. “I love you, Ivy. You know you’re like the sister I never had. So please listen to me when I say ask that man out before something happens and you regret not ever trying.”
Well fuck. That is…really spot on to reality isn’t it?
I never get a chance to answer her as the entire building suddenly shakes, alarms and lights screeching and illuminating the halls. One of the tall filing cabinets starts to topple in my direction and I can only look on in horror, frozen in place by the rumbling building. I throw my hands up, as if that’s going to stop it, but nothing happens. The cabinet is laid gently on its side, floating to the ground.
“Come on!” I look up into those dark eyes, Marcus extending his hand to me and helping me to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” He tightens his grip and somehow leads us out of the chaotic building out into the streets. Which is also nuts. People are running everywhere and…wait. Is that an alien spaceship coming towards us??
Marcus pulls me behind a wall, glancing around it and waving hand signals to a small group of heroes across the street behind another wall, Pink Hair amongst them. He turns back to me, his face full of worry as he starts to take his shirt off, exposing…not skin but a uniform? No. His hero costume, which is a black shirt,and arm bands. He sees me staring down and he shrugs. “I normally have a tach vest but we’re out of time.”
“Should you not go out there without one?”
Marcus shakes his head. “I have to support my team. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I mean, people safe.”
“You could just stay here with me? The others can handle-” my words are cut off by a giant laser beam cutting through the street, coming directly from the ship.
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Get yourself to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to be safe.” Another laser beam, the sound of some smaller buildings crumbling to the ground. “Go! Get to safety!” He releases my hand.
I get a glimpse of the deep craters that lasers had left in their wake through the cement of the street, the piles of rubble and dust, and this spurs me on.
“Marcus?” He leans against the wall, readying himself, but he looks at me.
“Yeah?”
Mustering up my courage, I lean towards his hunched body, softly planting a kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I see his chest heaving, his eyes moving between mine.
“Please make it back, Marcus.”
Before he can answer, the ship comes into view and his team moves out, following behind Miracle Guy, who had flown right up the ship and started punching it. Marcus’s head whips around, assessing the situation and I squeeze his arm once more before quickly moving out of the immediate area. I know I should move more, but I can’t get hurt so…
The fight that ensues between the ship, the aliens inside, and the Heroics team is nothing short of brilliant. They may argue in the halls, but in the field, they all take direction from Marcus, who is a brilliant leader, playing all of their strengths. Marcus bends metal like it’s made of playdough, a beautiful dance of destruction and strength. Then the ship comes crashing down, everyone moving out of the way except-
“Marcus!” I emerge from my hiding place at a full run as the smoke around the alien ship that’s currently scraping along the road as it crashes and envelops Marcus. The ship stops, groaning as it falls back and lays still, no other life forms moving or detected on board. For a few moments, no one moves. Then Marcus emerges from the smoke, his face soot stained and a small gash in his shirt and along his cheek, but otherwise unharmed.
“Marcus!” I run to him, his eyes finding mine, his entire body relaxing as he realizes I’m safe, just before I launch myself into his arms, our lips crashing together as my right hand fists in his shirt, my left tugging on his hair. Miracle Guy wolf whistles but I couldn’t care less. I feel his tongue gently lick out and I part my lips, letting him take whatever he wants. But before it can go any further, my vision starts to blacken, the last thing I see is Marcus’s eyes going out of focus as he succumbs to his own transition to the next simulation.
—----
I find myself blinking awake for the second time in what feels like weeks, but I know in reality it’s only been maybe 20 minutes that I was in there. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my vision and hearing clearing and I find myself in…a breakroom. Am I back at the Heroics? The slight weight in my hand takes my focus and I realize I’m holding a cup of tea. I must be on my break. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking outside. I’m not back at Heroics - the cityscape is all wrong. I hear the door open behind me and I turn, the smile on my face widening as Marcus enters the room. His hair is shorter than the last simulation. And his face is clean shaven, which is a look I’ve never seen on him before. Not that it matters - he’s beautiful no matter what. I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s a little older. Probably hot as-
“Hey, Ivy.” Marcus smiles down at me, grabbing his own mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. I notice the FBI logo on the mug and figure that must be where we are.
“Hey, Marcus.” I take a sip of my tea as we both watch the other. But then the door opens again, another agent walking into the room. He claps his hands together, looking at us.
“Hey! Congrats on finally cracking that art case, you two! 8 months is a long time to do an operation like that. Great work!” He shakes both of our hands as we thank him. Marcus catches my eye and, with a small movement, jerks his head towards the door. I nod, thanking the other agent again and follow Marcus out of the tiny breakroom and down the hall, stopping in front of an office door labeled MARCUS PIKE. I wonder if that's his name back In reality. He extends his arm towards his office and I head inside, smiling at him as I do, noting how his eyes dart around, that hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he closes the door behind him.
“I uh…great work, Ivy.”
“You too.”
He puts his hands in his pockets and finally looks me in my eyes and he nods once.
“Listen. Do you..uh..I mean, would you like to…this is coming out all weird.”
I squeeze his arm and he looks down at my hand, taking a deep breath.
“Would you like to get something to eat?”
My stomach erupts in butterflies. “Like on a date?”
The redness in his eyes spreads down onto his cheeks as he stammers, gesturing around vaguely. “No! No, not uh. Not a date.”
I can feel my face falling. “Oh.”
“Uh, unless you…uh…unless you want to? Make it a…a date?” His eyes are wide and bright, like a damn puppy.
I smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you, Marcus.”
His smile is bright, lighting up the room. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He let's out a sigh of relief. “Great! I found this great pancake place.”
Pancakes? I love this man already. “It's nearly dinner time!” I can't help the small giggle that I let out.
“Yeah, well you said your favorite food is pancakes. And they're open 24 hours.”
He remembered my favorite food? I'm so screwed. Damn this program is good. “You're right! I'd love to get pancakes with you. On a date. For a date. When will this date be, by the way?”
“Oh. I uh, would it be too weird if we went tonight? Is that too soo-”
“No! I mean, yes! No it's not too soon. I'd love to go!” If my heart could stop beating through my chest, that would be great. It's not that I'm some young girl getting asked on her first date. I just really like Marcus. Or whomever this is. My heart sinks at the thought of it not being the Marcus I know in reality.
“Great! I'll pick you up at 7? Unless you'd rather meet me there? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Marcus, we just spent 8 months together on assignment. I think I'm comfortable around you.”
He chuckles. “Fair point.” His office phone rings and he apologizes to me, picking it up. I wave ro him and he mouths “See you at 7!”
—----
He picks me up with a flourish of flowers, all long legs and button up shirt that I'm really dying to unbutton. If that's even allowed here.
But what's more than that is the conversation. I thought I had learned everything about him over the last 8 months. I was very wrong.
“You were a bass player in a band?” I ask, choking on my drink.
He laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “What can I say? I wanted to meet more people.”
“I bet you had all the girls hanging on you.”
Marcus shrugs. “Not really. They all want to date the drummer or the singer.”
“Really? Not the sexy bass player?”
Marcus takes too large of a sip of his drink and coughs, pounding his chest. “No, not the…you think I'm sexy?”
I set my fork down and meet his eyes. “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here.”
We spend several moments, just looking at each other and then I remember that he's not a simulation but a real person on the other end of those eyes. My heart squeezes thinking about how it won't actually be Marcus. Despite that thought, we really get along well and the conversation flows freely between us. Sooner than I’d like, we’re leaving the small diner, heading back to my place. Marcus parks in my driveway and turns to me, his eyes bright and wide like a damn puppy. We had been talking about books, one of my favorite topics.
“..and I know everyone complains that Tolkien takes 20 pages to describe a flower, but I really love that attention to detail. It makes it more immersive for me. One of these days I’ll get you to read Lord of the Rings!” I tap my fingers on his bicep to emphasize my point.
Marcus rubs his neck. “I uh…I already have.”
My jaw drops. “What? When??”
“When you told me it was your favorite book. Or books, I should say.”
I think back. “Marcus, that was…months ago!”
His eyes meet mine, the light from the street lamp outside adding a sparkle to them. “You said they were your favorite so…I read them.”
My stomach does flips, my heart beating. “You read them all for me?”
He nods. “Even the Silmarillion.”
I can’t help it. This is so fucking hot. I reach out and grip his shirt, pulling him to me, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat between us quickly rising. His large hand cradles the back of my head, holding me to him as his other hand settles on my hip, squeezing it lightly. We make out for several minutes, Marcus kissing and nipping a path down my neck.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask breathlessly.
He pulls back and looks at me. “I do but-” he whispers. “Are we allowed?”
“I…I’m not sure. We could try to-”
But then my vision starts to blacken around the edges, and before I pass out, I hear Marcus say “See you in the next one!” before we both black out.
—----
Now familiar with the way I wake in these simulations, I wiggle my fingers and toes, giving myself a moment to figure out where I am. The room looks…ok, this isn’t from my time. Roman decor and pillars line the grand bedroom, some food laying on a small table for, I’m assuming, me. A quick glance down shows me in a beautiful white garb and I marvel for a moment at how clean it is.
BOOM!
The ground shakes and I duck down, completely caught off guard. It’s only after the boom dies down that I hear it - the distant sound of clanking swords and men yelling. I walk to the small window set into the wall and look out, my brain taking a moment to process the scene in front of me.
I’m several floors up in a sort of round building, a castle I realize as I see the lower tiers, more square in their shape. I’m sure the grounds would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the massive amounts of soldiers fighting in the streets. I can make out their bodies, the blood, sweat, and dirt spreading almost like a disease. Spear and swords burst from chests or stomachs, limbs separating from their bodies to be lost to the throngs of soldiers. The seem to be moving closer to the castle, which I’m not sure if I want to happen or not. Turning on my sandaled heel, I walk to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen. Hearing nothing, I try to open it. Nothing. The door doesn’t open or move, the handle locked into place.
Well, fuck.
Before I can try and figure out how far down the next ledge is out the window, or if I can even fit out the window, I hear a commotion outside my door. It’s not loud, but I hear a man gurgling and sputtering, a small bit of crimson blood pooling under the door. I grab an iron rod by the fire and hold it up, preparing to defend myself. I know they said I can’t be hurt but damn this feels real. The door opens and a man walks through, wide, muscular shoulders under his Roman armor, Medusa proudly engrained on the front. I lunge, the iron rod above my head but the man turns and grabs the rod and I would’ve fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.
“Ivy! Here you are!”
It’s him. Marcus. Only he’s older, probably closer to 50. Grey streaks in his curls and patchy facial hair only accentuate his beauty, a new scar forming across his nose, bleeding lightly down his face. He’s covered in dirt and blood and ash, but I throw my arms around him anyway.
“Marcus! Thank God, what’s going on?”
He cups my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful, my love. I would bring every army from the entire world to rescue you from this horrid Emperor.” And then his lips are on mine, urgency behind them, but a desire to show me how l much I am loved. This man apparently started the battle outside, for me, and still wants to make sure that I know how important I am to him?
“We have to flee. Come!” But before we can leave, the door flies open and 5 guards file in, grabbing Marcus and holding his arms out to his sides. I pick the iron rod up from the floor and run towards them, unsure of what I would do but I know I’ll beat the shit out of them until they let him go. But another hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting it hard so I drop the rod. I look up into the eyes of a man that I’m assuming is the Emperor, his golden robes flowing around him. He looks vaguely familiar, like that one asshole from the comic shop.
“Now, now my dear. What were you planning on doing with that?”
I open my mouth to reply, but then he smacks me across the face and I slam down onto the floor. Ok, that hurt. Didn’t she say I wouldn’t get hurt? Maybe she meant I wouldn’t die. Marcus swears, cursing the Emperor for hitting me.
“Are you alright, my love?” Marcus grunts as the men punch him in the stomach.
“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. You’re kind are dying out. I told you to just accept your fate and take your banishment, but instead, you stayed behind and fell in love with a woman. How…stupid.” Marcus tries to speak but he’s punched again, his body hunching over. I try to stand, but then I’m drug up by my hair, the Emperor’s fingers digging at my scalp as he pulls me to his side.
“This one?” His eyes rake over my body. “She is attractive, I’ll give you that. Even if she is attracted to a brute like you.” I jerk my body, trying to get out of his grip but it’s too tight, my hands gripping his arms to try and get some relief from the stinging at the back of my scalp.
“Let her go. You can kill me, I don’t care, but let her go.”
The Emperor looks from me to Marcus, a sick smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have you give up. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do instead. LOOK AT ME!” The Emperor bellows from beside me, Marcus’s eyes moving from mine to his.
He steps closer to Marcus, dragging me a little beside him. “Such a wild man. How about this: you watch as I take her. Then, I’ll drive my sword through her belly so she can slowly bleed out on the floor. Only after the light has left her eyes will I either kill you or lock you up to suffer the rest of your days. How does that sound?”
The darkness that settles over Marcus is unforgiving, his eyes hardening in resolution. He growls and screams, throwing the soldiers off him as he grabs his sword from the ground, swinging it and taking out all of the soldiers in only a handful of moves. He spins, aiming his sword at the Emperor, who has now moved me in front of him as a human shield, a knife to my throat.
“I’ll kill her, Marcus! You are too weak to save her!”
Marcus’s gaze moves briefly to mine and I release my weak grip on the Emperor’s arms, letting them fall to my side. Marcus shifts his body ever so slightly before he throws something from behind his back. The object whizzes past my cheek, scratching it slightly as the blade buries itself in the Emperor’s neck. He drops his knife and clutches at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He crumbles to the floor and sputters for several moments before his body stops moving. I run to Marcus, throwing my arms around him again. He grunts and I remember the soldiers hitting him.
“Are you hurt?”
He clutches his side. “I’ve had worse.”
“You are so fucking hot right now,” I speak quietly to him and he smiles. “I’m covered in dirt and blood and sweat.”
“Stop trying to turn me on more I already said you’re hot.”
He laughs but then inhales sharply at the pain. “I’ll take it, I guess.”
“No, that’s my job.” I bring my lips to his, pushing him back towards the chaise lounge chair on the other side of the room. He sits, pulling me onto his lap as I straddle him, my dress getting dirty as I shift my hips. He groans, his large hands sliding up my bare thighs under my dress and fuck! My vision starts to blacken and I hear Marcus whine out some expletives as we both are brought out of the simulation.
—---------------------------
Hopefully for the last time, I blink awake, wiggling my fingers and toes as I look around the room. The helmet is gently lifted from my head and the woman that had put it on me moves into my eyesight.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m here.”
“Good. Wait just a moment for your body to fully catch up. Do you have any questions?”
“Yeah why did you stop us having sex?”
She studies me for a moment. “It is not allowed in the programming.”
“I cross my arms. “Well your programming is stupid.”
She chuckles so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “The algorithm wants you and your mate to match based on personality and emotions, not just physical.”
“I can guarantee you it wasn’t just physical.”
She helps me stand and I shake my limbs out, full feeling returning to them. I smooth out my dress as she readjusts my hair. “Are you ready to meet him?”
Him. My reality man. “Y..yeah.”
“Right through that door. He’s already waiting for you.” I move towards the door but she stops me. “I just have to say, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a situation like yours and his.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
So smiles softly. “So…rooted in reality.”
Yeah that’s not confusing. But she doesn’t explain further, turning back to the chair and helmet, starting to clean them. I take a deep breath to steady myself and open the door, walking through and closing it behind me. The man on the other side of the room, my mate, turns towards me and we both gasp.
“Marcus?”
“Ivy?”
We meet in the middle of the room and I cup his face, Marcus tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is it really you?”
He nods. “Yeah. You? Real?”
“Real.”
He pulls my face to his, kissing me deeply, but then pulling back a moment later.
“I’ve been dying to ask you out since forever. I never thought I’d be paired with you, here of all places.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever ask me?”
“Have you seen yourself? You’re entirely out of my league.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s the other way around.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I put my finger on his lips. “I think we went through several first dates in there. Plus, we’re already friends. Can we…that is, can you take me back to your place first? Then we can eat?”
Marcus’s eyes darken, his hands finding a place on my hips as he pulls me against his body, letting me feel how into that idea he is.
(Valentina Acacia with her parents, General Marcus Acacius and Bellona, goddess of war.)
The Bastard Acacia. Bellona Incarnate.
Valentina doesn't flinch or look away from the body, eyes unfocused as her brows met.
"I know that look. It's the same one your father has when he is thinking through possible battle scenarios." Quintus comments, breaking the trance.
..
Valentina's steel grey eyes drift to the arena, catching the movements behind the gates. "I will not fight for their entertainment." Her despair is replaced by hardened resolve and Marcus' breath catches as he remembers that very same look in Bellona's eyes before a battle. Dressed in what must have been a small gladiator's former armor and holding a spear in her hand, Valentina looks like the daughter of war she is. "My death will be my own."
…
something something you are your father’s daughter something something you are your mother’s daughter something something you can’t outrun your blood and so people always see traces of them in you
As always, thanks to @palluniskillas for taking commissions in Pesos and for having to put up with my shitty drawing skills in lieu of actual references.
And thanks to everyone who has to suffer my yapping over the endless AUs of this story that I promise will get written down someday: @amnesiathefirstcatlady @mmkkzz @dumbbitchenergy17 @swan-of-sunrise
