The Calends of January

[LadyAria]

Marcia Nervonis

Marcia applauded at the announcement with bright eyes and an approving smile on her face. Seeing their reentry, she knew what her father had done. Her hands almost met in celebration before he could finish the dreadful announcement. All was fair in the affairs of politics and passion. It was most unfortunate that her parent would choose the seat on the other side of the gaming table. Now, she had to figure how not to be seen as an opponent player. Fighting the urge to look at her sister, she turned her attention to her mother. Clapping harder, she beamed with pride and support.

“A wonderful match indeed,” she said aloud rising from her chair with her cup high into the air. “Thrice, the Gods have smiled on our house with fortunate. It is a time of joy and blessings. I raise my cup to our noble Roman men: Caesar, a fearless leader fighting for the Rome of all citizens. A magnificent place where every man will know his friends and everyman will be his brother. Never again will we fear the daggers at our back or the treachery of Pompeius. Dearest father, Gaius, you are our omnipresent protector whose unquestionable judgment guarantees the future of our house for generations to come. Your return has brought nothing, but joy to the hearts of our mother and your two humble daughters. We celebrate you. Your presence fills us with new life. Ah, and to my two new brothers, Marcellus and Agrippa, my arms open to embrace the noblest of men of pure blood into my family. May our house be your house and the love of your new sister never be split unequally, but relished abundantly on both of you. Neither of you will ever be abandon. I promise to be a faithful servant bending to the superior strength of your masculine minds and even logic from this day forth.” Marcia bended her knee and bowed her head at both Agrippa and Marcellus, before turning to her husband. “Finally, to my Husband, I toast our future family. May our children be the models of morality, discipline and Roman virtue for all of our countrymen to praise. My virtue I plead to you on our wedding day to bring forth a generation to serve our dear, Caesar.”

Marcia took a deep drink from her cup satisfied in her sincerity, before Marcellus’s voice caught her attention. Pulling the cups from her lips, she smiled at his acceptance of the idea. Her bottom once again found her seat. Her teeth sharpened into her friendly smile before responding to his words.

“Oh, I do so agree, my brother,” she said with a honey sweet voice. “I will go to father as soon as company parts, and ask for his permission on behalf of both of the sisters. Aurelilla and I can call upon grandmother’s great wisdom in the planning of the two weddings. Then, we will bond as siblings since you will take father’s place as head of our family in his passing. I am sure he will be eager to let us go. It will be best if neither Marcus or Agrippa will be able to join us as it is direct relations only.” Lowering her voice, she looked down into her lap and then back up to the ceiling as though considering the future. “However, it is a possible another time you may wish Marcus and I to visit you in the country and you may wish to provide him instruction for that time. We would surely be lost if such direction were left just to my fragile female mind. Women cannot be trusted with such matters, as you know.”

Marcia straightened her shoulders at the conclusion of the thought. Letting her chin push back to the ceiling, the weight of her hair and generous application of hairpieces tired her neck. Beauty is so cumbersome. One of the many things a man will never know, she thought careful not to expose her mind on her facade. The whole evening wore on her. Pulling up a smile, she politely went back to ignoring her brother and her sister. It was not normal for her to show interest in her sister. Therefore, she would not allow herself to glance Aurelilla’s way. She would come in the night to Aurelilla’s chamber and whisper to her in her sleep. The light slumber would retain the words. No need for obscene displays of emotion for which her little sibling excelled, the renewal of sisterly affection was too new and raw to be touched. She turned to her new husband to find sanctuary. Rising from the chair, she went to stand behind Marcus. Her mouth found his ear and inserted her thoughts.

“Marcus, I hope you will not take my absence. Every night, I should be with you… in your thoughts. We shall talk if only in dreams of our future and the shape of things to come. We will touch in the gray of dawn before you awake. It will be like you are there with me…in the country…every night…sharing the stars. Do you not agree?”

His response would give her strength to go to her father. The meeting with her father should address the realty of Marcellus as the family head, the importance of sibling ties and why Aurelilla’s timid nature is safest away from her husband-to-be. A woman is weak and can easily be swayed by her betrothed to do things that would disgrace the family. She would let him draw the mental line between the garden scene and a courting violation. Marcellus could have taken advantage and did not pluck the flower. Who would say Caesar’s favored would not? If he did taste the fruit, would he still marry her? Would our word stand up against Caesar’s favored in a cry of misconduct? Would the House want such scandal? The country would be much safer. Marcia would volunteer instruction to help coach Aurelilla out of this spell under which she has fallen. Father and mother would have time alone. Mother has been so ill. The relief of our absence would be good for her. Grandmother could help with the wedding plans. She has so few years left. He would see it was better this way. No harm could come from such a short time. No harm could come at all.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

There was always a price to be paid. No matter the nature of the gift one received, there would be a toll. Aurelia knew this, and she had learned it the hard way. She suspected that the price paid for being blessed with a loving husband had been the inability to give him an heir. The price for having risen through the social orders of Rome had perhaps been the introduction of Marcellus into the very unit she treasured the most. Marcellus Marcius…Aurelia looked at him over the rim of her goblet as he spoke to Marcia. He was not giving anything away, on the surface her “son” was polite enough, but Aurelia thought that she could detect the merest flicker of something altogether more sinister lurking beneath the surface.

She wondered whether Gaius had picked up on this, but quickly discarded the thought. Her husband was enamoured by the fact that he had finally been blessed with a son. Aurelia also knew just how highly her husband valued the former tribune, his letters home had mentioned Marcellus on more than one occasion. By no means informed about martial matters, Aurelia had still managed to grasp the fundamental difference between her husband and her son. Gaius was a civilised man, yes in fact her was the very definition of everything that was Rome. The refinement, the belief in order and justice were both trademarks of her husband’s. Her son on the other hand, Aurelia winced inwardly as she considered the new situation, was of course a Roman, but in Marcellus Aurelia thought she could detect some of the barbaric traits that reigned beyond the borders of Rome. Like Mark Antony, Marcellus did not hide the fact that he was a soldier, and a man to whom violence would always be an option. It was disconcerting. Aurelia had seen enough of such things to last her a lifetime, but in the games of the Gods, mortals were but pawns, and it had pleased them to place Marcellus in her path. In the confines of her own mind, Aurelia said the first prayer to Isis, asking the divine mother for strength. Strength to be everything that her husband wanted and perhaps needed her to be, even when the foundations of her life seemed to be crumbling before her very eyes.

Aurelia had suspected that the Consul’s visit carried more connotations than a mere social call. Her husband might have been elevated to the position as Praetor, but even so the visit of the de-facto dictator of Rome was something out of the ordinary. The fact that Caesar had brought the young fellow Agrippa with him was also rousing her curiosity. She had taken an almost instant liking to the young man. Yet it had been laced with a hint of sadness. While Aurelia had come to accept her own failings, occasionally she could still find herself wondering what and how things might have turned out differently, and pointless as it may be, she pictured that a child of hers would have been the very image of that young man.

She had listened to the discussion between Marcia and Marcellus, without intervening. Aurelia trusted the instincts of her daughter’s, but even so she could not bring herself to see what possible good would come from a situation such as the one Marcia was describing. But she decided to trust her daughter for now, explanations could always be given later. There was another reason for Aurelia’s noncomitant response, and he was seated right across from her. She had no intention to chastise Marcia while Marcellus was present.

The goblet she had sipped from was all but empty when Gaius, Caesar and young Agrippa returned to the trinclinum. There had been deliberations of some kind that much was evident. It would be wrong to state that her husband looked overly pleased, but the way that the Consul beamed bespoke that a favourable conclusion had been reached. Aurelia sat up on the couch as her husband began to speak, announcing the forthcoming wedding between Agrippa and Aurelilla.

Aurelia smiled as she put down the goblet and gracefully got to her feet. So this was the price then.; an alliance between the parochial Agrippa with one of the most influential families in Rome. The Consul beamed, and Aurelia thought she could see, at least partially how the man had tied another knot that would secure his political power and legitimacy. There might have been other mothers who would have objected to the match. Marcus Vipsanius was not the ideal match, not given the Marciae Nervae’s status, but Aurelia had already confessed to a fondness for the young man, and in the light of what had happened between her youngest and Marcellus, this was perhaps the best thing that anyone could have hoped for.

She moved over to where Gaius was standing, taking her place by his side and placing her hand on Aurelilla’s shoulder. Visible signs of affection towards Aurelilla had never come easy for her, but this time the small gesture did not speak of reluctance. Every day of her youngest child’s existence had been a struggle for Aurelia, to battle the resentment that still raged within her. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that Aurelilla had been blameless in what had happened, it had been easier to direct the disappointments at her rather than the Gods and the Parcae.

But now something seemed to have changed. Her daughter was to enter the world of the adults and even if Aurelia knew that the transition would take time, but she thought she could detect the first traces of the change within Aurelilla. There was also the hope that through this marriage, the two of them would be able to finally come to terms with the way of the world and their own parts in it. Yet there was something about how Aurelilla carried herself. While it was understandable that she looked at loss for the thing that had befallen her, she could at least have acted in a way that befitted her station. Now there was nothing, and the generosity she had felt only moments ago seemed to evaporate into nothing.

She leaned closer, her ear just inches away from her daughter’s ear, the gesture easily mistaken for the affections of a doting mother. “You will not make a spectacle of your father, me or yourself is that clear.” Aurelia had hissed the warning, only loud enough for her youngest to hear. She stood back and offered Gaius a radiant smile, trying in the blink of an eye to convey her pleasure with the match that he and the Consul had secured for Aurelilla.

Aurelia listened as Marcia delivered her words of praise, her manners impeccable as always, but distinguishable below the surface was something else. Perhaps Aurelia had just imagined it, but it seemed that her eldest child was in fact offering the most eloquent and subtle reproach of her father’s choice of husband for her sister. No one seemed to have noticed, for which Aurelia was eternally grateful, it would have been scandalous in the extreme should the Consul have picked up on such things.

When the formalities had been dispensed of, the party returned to the couches. Aurelia lay back, content to watch the proceedings, and once again marvelling at the way in which Marcia managed to master the situation. Her suggestion for the visit to the Aurelii Orestes seemed to have gone down well with both Gaius and Marcellus. The latter causing Aurelia to frown, and she vowed not to let her adopted son and Aurelilla to be in private until she was safely married of to Agrippa. Of course, it should not be a matter that needed cause her worry. They were all family now and incest; Aurelia shuddered at the mere thought, was something that no decent Roman would want to be associated with. Marcellus might have his faults but surely he wouldn’t go down that particular road? She glanced at her son over the rim of her goblet as she tried to form an opinion about him. He was handsome, not in the sculptured way of her husband but in a rugged sort of fashion. It was hard to see him as being anything but a soldier, even now when dressed in the finest toga, he wore it like a legion tunic. Surely a son of Mars and Bellona.

The Consul soon informed his host that he intended to leave, although the farewells took a good half hour to be properly said. Once again Aurelia found herself face to face with Caesar and listening to his words.

“Your husband is like a brother to me Lady Aurelia.” She saw the smile that lightened up both men’s faces as the declaration had been made. “And I do hope that our friendship will grow ever stronger. Rome needs men like him, and young Marcus Scribonius of course.” Caesar had leaned closer, taking her hand between his. “You are favoured Lady, a husband who’s a hero of the Republic, a son-in-law who will restore the faith in the Senate when peace arrives, and a son who will be at the forefront should the legions ever be called into service.” He nodded to each of the men. “Why don’t you call on my wife sometime. I am sure that Calpurnia and you would have a lot of things to talk about.” The consul gave her a conspiratorial wink, “If nothing else then the folly of men could always be discussed.” He nodded to the assembled Marciae Nervae and then left, accompanied by Agrippa and his retinue.

The emptiness after Caesar had left was palpable, it seemed that the very air had changed after his departure. By no means fallen to hero-worship, Aurelia could easily see why the man commanded such respect and, admittedly, fear. Caesar was not so much a man as a force of nature, and the divine ancestry which he claimed was readily discernable. The favoured son of Venus and the saviour of the Republic. It all made sense to her as she went to oversee the clearing up of the trinclinium. Caesar would forever change Rome, or die in the attempt, there was no other option, and as far as Aurelia could see, defeat would not be his. Securing ties with him by the marriage between Marcus Agrippa and Aurelilla would further strengthen the bonds that had already been forged, and Gaius, Marcus and Marcellus would benefit from it.

Aurelia nodded as Marcellus came through the room, seemingly intent on retiring to his own chambers. She would gladly have let him do so without speaking more than absolutely necessary, but the newfound knowledge that she had gained had strengthened her resolve. Besides she was his mother now and as such she had every right to point out any mistakes that he had done.

“Marcellus.” She spoke softly as she sat down on one of the couches, shooing the servants away with a wave of her hand. “We haven’t had time to talk yet, not properly I mean.” She offered her son a smile as he moved to sit down on the opposite side of the small table. Aurelia felt his gaze on her and it was strangely disconcerting. The man was a menace, and even by just sitting quietly, he still managed to convey that beneath the polished surface lay something altogether more sinister. Aurelia took a deep breath before she continued, her eyes trained at his face.

“I hope you are settling in well, your father has spoken very highly of your abilities to do so.” She smiled again. “It is quite a singular occurrence is it not, that a father and son have served as legate and tribune at the same time and in the same legion? I’m sure that you will honour my husband in the same way now, even though it is not the adventurous life of the legions.” She paused, and put down the goblet she had been holding. “There is one little matter which I wanted to bring to your attention. You will of course accompany your sisters to your grandparents. That is the proper thing to do. But I will not suffer to see my daughters in the house of the Caunos. You will do well to remember that you are a son of Gaius Marcius Nerva, and as such your allegiance and loyalties are with his house.” She stood up before Marcellus had time to reply. “I’m certain that we won’t be needing to address these issues again Marcellus. Good night!”

She turned on her heel, walking through the trinclinum to the wing of the villa where her own chambers and those of her daughters were located. Her heart was beating rapidly, never had she thought that such simple a conversation could have been so taxing. It was not that she feared Marcellus, not the person at least, but something in his anima seemed to foster thoughts of darkness and destruction. It did not bode well at all, at least not as far as Aurelia was concerned.

She paused outside Marcia’s room. In the years of Gaius’ absence she had spoken to her daughter often enough. Now it seemed that they hadn’t had any time together, and when they did the conversation did not flow as it had done. Truth to the matter was that Aurelia had drawn strength from the talks she and Marcia had shared. There was a certainty about her oldest daughter that she herself lacked, and by probing into that brilliant mind, Aurelia had been able to fortify herself against the strains of her husband’s absence.

Aurelia walked inside the chamber, seeing her daughter and the youngest of her newly acquired slaves busying herself by combing her hair. There was a pause as she entered, and just the hint of displeasure at the interruption. Aurelia found herself frowning, it was all very well with loyalty but that wretched creature ought to know who was the Domina of the household. She snapped her fingers telling the two women to leave them, and waited until the doors had closed behind them before she walked over to the seated Marcia.

“They seem to have adapted well my dear.” Aurelia ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair, searching for any pearl still left there. “That is a good sign and it does you credit Marcia. Just make certain that they learn that while you are their mistress, I will not suffer impertinence.” She smiled at Marcia’s reflection in the matted bronze mirror and reached for the comb, expertly running it through her daughter’s dark curls.

“Do you remember when you were a girl? I used to comb your hair every night then.” Aurelia sighed, it was a long time ago, and soon Marcia would be the undisputed mistress of her own house, and in time have daughters of her own. “I shall miss your company when you leave us.” The last sentence had been spoken quietly in an attempt to hide the sorrow that loomed just beneath the surface. She inhaled deeply, sensing the exquisite fragrance that Marcia wore. “Now tell me what you have planned for your little outing. I know that there is something more than just getting to know your brother.” She smiled again. “You have the heart and mind of a man Marcia and if I know you right there are more to this than you care to let us know.” The words had perhaps sounded harsher than she had intended and she quickly rephrased herself. “What I mean is that I trust your judgement, but it would make me more at ease if I knew that your sister is not put in a situation which she cannot handle. Can you promise me to look out for her welfare.”

She nodded as she listened to Marcia’s explanations and let her daughter kiss her cheek. “I shall write your grandmother tomorrow to let her know your coming.”

 

[Britwitch]

Aurelilla Nervonis

Aurelilla had been looking forward to a chance to unwind and relax in the bath but as she stepped inside the tranquil room she saw her Mother and knew such things were idle hopes.
She undressed quickly and bashfully, unsure why she felt such discomfort around others and especially around her Mother and sister but that was the way of it. She had tried to fight the need to blush and cast her eyes downward but it was an instinctual reaction to nakedness that was apparently too strong for her to overcome.

Soon enough she was sat in the water alongside Aurelia and the speech she knew would be swift in coming began almost instantly.
“You probably think me cruel and unfair on you Aurelilla…That I do not love you or even care for your welfare, and perhaps you’ve been right. Your coming into this world was..”
Aurelilla felt her breath catch in her throat, praying the old scar wouldn’t be re-opened yet again. Exhaling only when her mother continued, apparently coming to the same conclusion as she. For once.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve been a disappointment to me for most of your life. You’re reasonably intelligent yet you do not show it, nor do you make anything of the fact that you are prettier than most. There have been times when I thought you might be simple, but your father assures me that it is not so.”
Her eyes lowered back to the oiled and perfumed water gliding around them both, her cheeks burning at the back-handed compliment, although it was probably more optimistic naivety on Aurelilla’s part to think of the words in such a way.
“I am sorry to have disappointed you so…” Aurelilla murmured quietly. “I can only hope to regain your good opinion…somehow…” She finished after pause.

“You know that there have been a lot of changes and more is to come. We cannot afford to have open strife within our family at this time Aurelilla. I want you to make an effort, especially now that the Consul himself are paying us a visit. In return I promise you that I shall try to dedicate some attention to you as well.”
“Thankyou, Mother…and I shall do all I can…” Aurelilla kept her eyes on the bathwater as her mother rose gracefully and stepped out of the bath.
“I think you ought to wear the green palla tonight. I’ll make sure Desma has words with your girl about it. And no sulking, I want you to be on your very best behaviour tonight.”
“Of course, Mother, I will do my best not to let you or Father down…” Aurelilla began but her mother had already departed.

Sighing Aurelilla bathed and even ducked beneath the surface of the water for a moment or two. Revelling in the almost musical silence she found, closing her eyes and holding her breath, half floating, suspended in the water. For a frightening instant she dallied with the idea of remaining there. In that frozen, dreamy place. The water was warm and there was no one to berate her..
But then her Father’s face came to her and the fleeting idea was lost.

She moved quickly to her chambers to dress for the evening, aware of little as the servants tending to her wrapped her frame in the green coloured fabric her Mother had selected, their fingers deftly plaiting back sections of her hair from her face and leaving the rest to hang unhindered down her back. A few small items of jewellery and a touch of makeup and all too soon she was done.

She avoided the eyes of their guests as much as she could, as much as she wished to talk with Marcellus she knew it was simply not an option. She smiled when she thought it appropriate but otherwise kept herself to herself, a small smile on her lips so as not to irritate her Mother and go against her instruction against sulking. Eating daintily and scarcely, sipping at her wine and listening with apparent attentiveness to the conversations around her. Her mind reminding her not to look at Marcellus again and again, her eyes sometimes feeling as if strange, unearthly forces were dragging their focus towards him, towards her ‘brother’.

Aurelilla had barely registered their newest acquaintance upon his arrival, she had smiled wider of course at his introduction but she only looked at him, really looked at him, when she heard her Father’s return and his unbelievable announcement.
"Everyone, I have an important announcement to make...It seems that we are to have yet another expansion of our family…Agrippa here has asked for, and I have granted permission, for him to wed Aurelilla."

Her mouth dropped open slightly in an expression that might well have looked like joyful surprise to an onlooker, but couldn’t have been further from the truth. Her wide eyes searching her Father’s, hoping to find an answer to her unspoken question but all she saw was remorse.

The toasts and congratulatory remarks all flowed over her head as she found herself looking at this man, this stranger, who she was to wed.
“You will not make a spectacle of your father, me or yourself is that clear.” Aurelia’s whispered warning snapped Aurelilla back to the moment. Just as Marcellus leant closer with words of his own.
“You are blessed sister, in family and friends and in your father’s choice of husband. My joy for you is tempered only by the fact that, having just gained a lovely sister I must lose her so soon.”
Aurelilla closed her eyes, fighting a sudden urge to cry. It was too much, it was all too much.

“Under the circumstances I believe we should act upon our noble sister Marcia’s excellent proposal without delay. Perhaps you could even depart for Ostia in the morning. My mother’s house overlooks the bay. Once you have paid respects to your grandparents you must come and be my guests. Please, tell me you will come!”
”I...” Aurelilla began but the ever-ready Marcia stepped in to accept and save her from rambling and revealing her true mental state.
“Oh, I do so agree, my brother, I will go to father as soon as company parts, and ask for his permission on behalf of both of the sisters. Aurelilla and I can call upon grandmother’s great wisdom in the planning of the two weddings. Then, we will bond as siblings since you will take father’s place as head of our family in his passing. I am sure he will be eager to let us go. It will be best if neither Marcus or Agrippa will be able to join us as it is direct relations only.”

Aurelilla sank into a chair, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, usually wanting nothing more than to escape to her room, to be alone with the thoughts now careering through her mind did not seem such a tempting prospect.
Caesar took his leave escorted away by her Father and Mother, followed swiftly by Marcellus, Marcia moving to whisper with Marcus in the corner.
All of a sudden Aurelilla realised there was only one other short of a conversational companion in the room, Agrippa. Her husband to be. She smiled weakly as her eyes met his and he made to approach her, taking a seat beside her. Almost too close beside her.
“This is a happy turn of events, is it not?” Aurelilla began, her voice slightly breathless with nerves and uncertainty. Meeting his gaze shyly, the smile she had worn for the duration of evening remaining in its place. “I confess to knowing little about you but the knowledge that you enjoy the patronage of Caesar is all I am sure I, and my family, need to know…I can only hope to make you as content as husband as I possibly can."

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

If there had been any doubt in Gaius' mind as to his wife's accusations - and the gods knew there was doubt he clung to, as desperately as any sea-fearing Roman sailor would cling to a piece of driftwood awash in Oceanus, and with as much certainty as it would not last long - if there was any doubt left, it vanished right then and there when, as he made his announcement, Gaius looked over the faces of Aurelilla and Marcellus. Marcellus looked like he had just seen a shade, like his angular face was suddenly that much more angular with the strain of holding in what might be tears, a hateful glare that could rival Medusa's, or much more likely, both.

Aurelilla, on the other hand...his sweet, little 'Lilla, his tender little dove, was suddenly looking at him with an open-mouthed gape that he could have pretended was happy surprise if it was not for the eyes that were brimming with hurt and pain and shock. A vacant gaze, wiped clean of any emotion whatsoever, Gaius could have handled. Not handled easily, but handled. This, however...the look in his darling youngest's gaze, the look of betrayal and fear when you know a trusted, a trusted and loved one, has thrown you to the dogs...Gaius knew it well.

He knew that it meant he had forever lost the innocent, adoring, worshipful youngest he had always treasured. Even if she loved him, her innocence, her sweet and endearing tendernous, was gone. In a way, he contemplated as Agrippa shook his hand with his weak grip and nervous-but-excited half-smile, he had done more to take his little 'Lilla's innocence away than Marcellus ever had. If they were to fuck now, then what of it? He had already ensured that she was spoiled goods. He felt like Prometheus, his innards being pecked away, scorched by an all-consuming flame of guilt.

It was then that Marcia arose, her hands furiously clapping, her rows of perfect teeth gleaming as she released her impromptu speech. Despite himself, Gaius smiled, feeling a worm of pride in him, greatfulness for his eldest and her act, intended or not, to deflect attention from any implication of impropriety in Aurelilla's or Marcellus' reaction. For the thousandth time, he reflected that it was a shame that she was not a man. Her generosity, spirit, intelligence, and skill were already more manly than half the notables in the City, three-quarters of them in the provinces.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Aurelia lean in to whisper something into Aurelilla's ear. He could only imagine what was said. Given the situation and what he gathered to be the relationship developed between the two of them since he had left for the war in Gaul, Gaius could guess that it wasn't the tender maternal congratulations and wish for maternal bliss that it seemed.

"Hear, hear, Marcia!" Gaius spoke when she finished, in a tone that was highly relieved and perhaps a touch too ebullient. Hopefully others would mistake it for the pride of a father who had just made a very politically profitable match. He drunk a deep draught from a wine-cup that a member of the serving staff had just pressed into his palm. "You do me great honor, far, far too great an honor for a humble man such as myself. I am of course unworthy to be placed next to our great consul and commander-in-chief, or scions of the future such as Agrippa and the rest of our menfolk here. No doubt they will build a far more glorious future than a simple soldier and paterfamilias like me could ever dream of. My family's barely broken out of Etruscan goat-farming, after all."

He chuckled with the wave of laughter at his light self-denigration, noticing that as the rest of the guests did so, Marcellus and Aurelilla had taken advantage of it to lean in to one another, whispering. Gaius tried not to stare or let his face harden, then grew relieved as Marcia joined them. He could always count on her level-headedness to counteract Aurelilla's flighty emotions and the...admittedly baser instincts of Marcellus. He then raised his glass again.

"A toast, all around! To the husbands-and-wives, and those to be, and to their children, and to the glorious Rome that we shall leave as their birthright!" Gaius, never much a drinker...well, at least not when with Aurelia present to watch over him, for once enjoyed the chance to down his cup's contents, newly-refilled by a suitably attentive houseslave.

The speeches over, Gaius was of half a mind to excuse himself from his guests and family, dreadful manners though that might be, but before he could do so, Marcia was before him, requesting permission for her and her two siblings to visit the home of the Aurelii. Gaius was taken aback by a moment, then closely examined Marcia. What was going through her head right now, with this offer that seemed almost too good to be true? How could she know that he could greatly use a few days alone with Aurelia, especially a few days away from Aurelilla's guilty stare and a Marcellus - a fine man, no doubt - a Marcellus whose sight would still drive home that he was the cause of him having had to hurt Aurelilla?

That Marcia would guess that he would prefer Aurelilla and Marcellus to be chaperoned was, of course, not difficult.

"Very well," he said, nodding after a few moments of contemplation. "I think that that would be for the best. Some family time before the wedding, let your grandparents get to know their new grandson. Certainly, for the best." Gaius smiled suddenly, then pulled her into an embrace. "That was quite a speech you gave," he added, then softer, in a tone that let it be known he was not referring to the speech: "Thank you."

Gaius spent the next half-hour seeing to Caesar and Agrippa's farewells, managing to avoid Aurelilla - or perhaps she was avoiding him - even after the guests had gone and the staff began cleaning. He retreated to the sanctum of his office, trying to get some work done, before giving up prematurely, a rare thing for him but this was, after all, a rare event.

He made his way to the bedroom, beginning to disrobe as his wife came in. Their first alone time since the excitement of the day. He turned to look at her as she explained her discussions with Marcellus and Marcia, remaining quiet until she was finished.

"Yes, I suppose that is for the best..." He sighed, sitting down on the bed, with her next to him. "You were right. I see that now. I see nothing but trouble coming from this. How could I have been so blind, so stupid?" he spat bitterly. "The way he and 'Lilla look at each other...This will come down to tears, mark my words. And 'Lilla..." Aurelia lay down, Gaius following and laying his head on the pillows of her bosom. "The marriage to Agrippa is the right thing to do, I absolutely believe it. He will bring great fortune upon us. But...but, I don't think she'll get over it." He let out a sigh that was almost a sob. "You should have seen her eyes when I made the announcement. Most girls, I would say would get over this, in a few months, a year, a couple years at most. But the way she looked at me...I lost her, Aurelia, I lost her love right there, I know it."

Gaius felt a stream of bitter tears come down his cheeks, and he nestled closer into his wife. He wished he could be as strong as she, or Marcia who, it was clear, took more after his wife than himself. He knew if he brought it up to either, they would deny it, would say that they were only women. But the truth was that, at the moment, realizing what he had done and that it was all his fault, Gaius did not feel much like a man at the moment, anyways.

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia

“They seem to have adapted well my dear. That is a good sign and it does you credit Marcia. Just make certain that they learn that while you are their mistress, I will not suffer impertinence.”

Marcia’s face softened at her mother’s sharp tone. Bringing her hand across her chest to her shoulder, Marcia gazed lovingly at her mother’s reflection in the mirror. The woman, a goddess incarnate, stroked her hair with soft motherly affection while still commanding her house like a general. A hot white shot of raw love shot through her chest bringing a gloss of tears to her eyes. Her mother was her world. May she learn to forgive Marcia for the events soon to pass.

“Mama,” Marcia said forgetting herself. “They are simple creatures. They did not know what they did was wrong. It will not happen again. I would never willingly let anyone hurt or offend you if it could be stop…if the fates do not will it to be done.”

Staring at her, Aurelia seemed to understand, on some level; Marcia needed her to know that she loved her. She loved her mother the only way she knew how. Sometimes, that cannot be enough though. Since her father’s arrival, Marcia could feel the black hole that had opened in her mother’s heart and threatened to drain away everything that was sacred to Marcia. The unforgivable insult of the adoption publicly ripped open the painful scars of her mother’s infertility. Stripped bared in her feminine failures, Aurelia endured Gaius’ inviting the most powerful of Rome to meet the child not of her womb. Her father was so oblivious to the humiliation Marcia felt every time he called Marcellus her brother. The Marcellus’s breeding Marcia could have forgiven. She may have been able to turn a blind eye to the knife it twisted in her fragile sister’s heart. However, deep inside, she needed to make him pay for what he did to her mother. Her perfect paragon soiled by her father’s foul and undeserving love. Her father would pay for all the humiliation, sadness and years of abandonment he inflicted on the women of his house. Through the quiet rage, she heard her mother’s voice reaching out to her.

“Do you remember when you were a girl? I used to comb your hair every night then. I shall miss your company when you leave us.”

Marcia refocused on her mother’s face in the mirror and saw the age in her eyes. Glancing away, Marcia found her center and cleared her thoughts. People can read your thoughts if you keep them to the front of your mind and hung them in the windows of your eyes. Long ago, she learned how to tuck away the things others need not know. Her mother would be hurt if she knew Marcia felt pity for her. Therefore, she wrapped it away. It always made it easier to lie especially if it were the good of everyone involved.

“Now tell me what you have planned for your little outing. I know that there is something more than just getting to know your brother. You have the heart and mind of a man Marcia and if I know you right there are more to this than you care to let us know. What I mean is that I trust your judgement, but it would make me more at ease if I knew that your sister is not put in a situation which she cannot handle. Can you promise me to look out for her welfare.”

“You really think I have the heart and mind of a man?” Marcia asked in mock surprise. “I thought I was the only one that saw the accident of birth that is my gender.” Giggling at her words, she smiled with sparkling eyes. “Mother, you worry far too much. The outing is for you and father. Since his return, you have had no time together. AND, while I love my dearest darling fragile flower sister, she weights on your spirits, mother. Once she sees the bumbling crude oaf our brother is, she will not longer pine for him as if he were Eros in the flesh. It is all in her head. By the end of our holiday, she will be running for Agrippa’s safe arms. Now, I could not very well speak so plainly before my siblings or to father. I only want what is best mother. Well, that and the country will be good for the complexion. Living so close to all these slaves, foreigners and poor people is making my face look dull. I have the skin of a barbaric visigoth slave girl.” Marcia scoffed. “I need the country air to restore my Roman purity and beauty.”

Aurelia shook her head at her daughter’s predicable vanity. Cocking up her smile to the right, Marcia gave one last exasperated statement.

“Mama, am I not the daughter you raise in your own image? Why you, of all people, question my innocent intentions?”

She nodded as she listened to Marcia’s explanations and let her daughter kiss her cheek. “I shall write your grandmother tomorrow to let her know your coming.”

When her mother finally left the room, Marcia sighed deeply. The two servants came to her, as they did most nights, to play the game. However, Marcia raised her hand to deny their approach. Her pleasures must be forgotten for a short time. There was no time for dead children when the living were in so much turmoil. Things must be addressed. Arrangements needed to be made. Slaves would need to be bribed. Grandmother would need a few drops of sleep. Marcia could not chance upsetting her. There were lives to be twisted around and people to be punished. Stopping, Marcia realized she would, also, need some country robes. Lifting her index finger to her lips, she wondered if mother had any of that purple material left. Marcus would love her in the purple. Again, her mind turned a sharp right, the shop that sells the sleep drops sells poisons. Maybe, she should have her body slave buy a few drops of venom. If things didn’t go well, she may need to kill somebody. Her family had no idea how committed she was to their happiness nor would they ever.

Aurelilla would be in her chambers by now, she thought dropping her hand. Before that tiny heart completely shattered, Marcia must go to her. Oddly nervous, Marcia walked slowly to her sister's chambers. They had been strangers so long. However, they are and would always be sister in blood. Softly pushing open the door, Marcia silently crept into the room. The slave dozed quietly in the corner. Aurelilla’s beautiful form stretched out in a light sleep. The moon flooded the the room with a pale silver light. A soft breeze played with the golden locks of her hair making it dance hauntingly slow. For a moment, Marcia just stared at how beautiful Aurelilla was. It was the first time she remembered seeing her sister at peace since they were children. In that moment, she knew she was choosing the right path.

Taking a knee beside her slumbering sister, Marcia began to whisper to her little sister the words she feared to say to her in waking hours.

“Little Lilla, forgive me for the sins I have committed against you. You were made of a tender reed and I was made of thorns and thistles. My cruelty knew no ends and your tears were the games I played in boredom. However, I have seen my folly. I will make up my errors in one grand act for you, dearest sister. In this late hour, I promise on my last drop of blood that I will give you what others deny you. No man will be your husband that is not in your heart. I know your heart sister. I know you like I know myself. Curse those that stand against it. You will have him. I promise. I will destroy anyone that tries to stop you.”

Leaning forward, Marcia kissed her sister lightly on the forehead. Marcia paused. She saw her sister’s hand flex. Then, Aurelilla’s chest seemed to rise and fall at a greater pace. Was Aurelilla awake? Marcia wondered. With a longer look, her sister’s breathe settled back into an even pattern. Dismissing it as her own excitement, Marcia backed out of the room as silently as she came. Too many things to do to linger over her angelic looking sister, it would require working through the night to ensure everything was in order before they arrive in the country.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

Aurelia quietly shut the door to Marcia’s quarters as she stepped out on the marble floor of the hallway. “Isis be praised for that child”. She reached for her neck where she usually wore the sistrum, the sign of the Mother of all Mercies, but her fingers closed around nothing. She hadn’t worn the symbol since Gaius return from Gaul, not wanting to provoke his sense of propriety. He was not fallen to religious bigotry, but even so Aurelia guessed that her husband would have objections to her honouring the foreign goddess Isis over Juno. It was not the Roman way after all. She had mentioned her convictions before his departure, be it in a non-confessional manner, disguised as nothing save a discussion about his views on the matter. He had seen through her shallow pretences of mere curiosity and although not saying so explicitly he had cautioned her from straying from the time-honoured traditions of Rome. It may well be that the Gods of Rome were really the Hellenes in other raiment but even that could lead the most righteous person down the wrong track. Sulla had been a prime example of that, his outlandish reverence for Aphrodite had been one of the reasons why he attracted so much loathing even to this day. No better stick to the Roman way and honour the established deities of the Republic.

It made sense, but Aurelia could not wholly reconcile herself with Juno and the cruelty which the Queen of the Gods was capable of. Then again, it may not have so much to do with anything save a guilty conscience. Aurelia sighed as she stopped outside the door to Aurelilla’s room. “You’re a cruel one Mother Juno” she whispered “and so am I.” She could feel tears beginning to pool in her eyes as she rested her head against the cool wooden door of her youngest daughter’s room. Aurelilla, “Little Aurelia”, that was the name that her husband had given their youngest. He had meant it to be an honouring of his wife, but in truth Aurelia could see it as nothing save a curse.

Because the resentment she harboured for her offspring had less to do with the fact that her birth had rendered her barren than it had with the fact that the girl resembled her too much. Perhaps it was a strange thing to say, especially given Aurelia’s accomplishments. “The Lady Aurelia” her mouth twisted into a mirthless smile in the darkness, that was what the people of Rome, Patrician and Pleb alike knew her as. The wife of the Praetor known for her chastity and moral. What did they know?

She reached for the handle of the door. Perhaps this was the moment which she had postponed a thousand times. She ought to make amends, to atone for her cruelty against Aurelilla. Little Lilla as everyone else referred to her as. Everyone save Aurelia that was. Perhaps it was a perverse thing, to revel in the shame that calling someone else by one’s own name, especially since she despised the things she saw. That was what Aurelia had told herself at least. But it ran deeper than that. Although a sin, mere loathing of one’s offspring was not as bad as envying them.

Aurelia slowly let go of the bronze handle. No it wouldn’t do to try and speak to Aurelilla right now. There was enough poison between them already to scupper any attempt at reconciliation now. Her hand went to the empty space where her sistrum used to be and once more her fingers grabbed at nothing. “Isis forgive me.” Aurelia’s wordless prayer rose through the empty hall but tonight, like so many other nights, the goddess paid it no heed. Aurelia had brought this punishment onto herself, and although being the bringer of mercy, Isis would not let it pass without due atonement.

It was a cruel twist indeed, or maybe it was merely justice. A way to balance things out. Aurelia sighed, she had never been good at theological arguments, but she suspected that this must be the case. It was true that she had wished for both Aurelilla’s and her own death after the girl’s birth. That useless bundle had rendered all her hopes null and void, and she had been the target of the disappointment that Aurelia had felt. But there was more to it, Aurelia could at least admit to that in the privacy of her own head. She had expected Gaius to show some signs of disappointment, to do what any reasonable man in his position would have namely to curse the Parcae and to move on to find himself someone who could fulfil his hopes of a son and heir.

He had not.

Instead he had showered them both with affection and pride, something Aurelia had thought was nothing but a way to distract her from the melancholy she laboured under after it had been made clear what had happened. It was kind and gentle an action, more so than she deserved, and thus she had thought it would pass as she and the child regained their strength.

It had not.

For some reason her husband seemed to have formed a bond with his youngest daughter, something which became more apparent as the girl grew. And as their relation deepened, so did the chasm between Aurelia and her. She would never agree to understanding her husband’s affection for Aurelilla, in public she politely turned a blind eye to it, even though she had been commenting on it. If he had felt the same for Marcia it would have been understandable. Marcia had the heart and mind of a man and whatever convention stated, the girl would be the true bearer of the honour of the Marciae Nervae. Hadn’t she already enthralled young Marcus Scribonius and charmed the Consul himself? What did Aurelilla have which could compete with that?

Aurelia already knew the answer as she walked the final steps to her own chamber and stepped inside. Little Lilla was a perfect copy of herself. It was as simple as that, although no one save she seemed to be able to see it. But it was there, as sure as Sol would light the day. The young Aurelia had been just as quiet, just as shy as her daughter was. And like her daughter she had had a mother most cruel. Aurelia snapped her fingers, calling the girl in attendance to help her undress under the stern glance of Desma’s. “Like mother like daughter” Aurelia thought as skilled hands disrobed her of the garments that she had worn. Aurelilla had been devastated after she had erased her writing, and she knew that it had been a horrible thing to do. Yet she had justified the action with it being necessary to make the girl see sense. It was hollow an excuse, because if Isis taught her followers but one thing it was that cruelty and punishment would never make a person change her ways.

As a child Aurelia had had a kitten, which she had treasured immensely. Because it was black it had been named Pina, after Proserpina. The presence of the animal had made her life a little less lonely. Growing up the youngest of four, with three older brothers who all vied for the attention of her parents, and more often than not getting it, had made her life fairly isolated. It had been painful to an extent, to claim anything else would have been a lie, but she had managed, creating a fiction where she too was loved and treasured. In this private kingdom she had been happy, until the day when her mother for some reason or other had decided that the cat was not suitable a companion. Lavinia Aurelia had made her watch as one of the slaves wrung the poor creatures neck, no matter how much she had prayed her not to have it done. It was then and there that she had made the decision never to allow herself to be governed by silly notions but instead grow up and become just as cold and rational as her mother had wanted her to be.

Looking back at it, Aurelia didn’t think she had done very well. True, she had mastered the cruelty at least as far as Aurelilla was concerned but for the rest? No it was not very convincing. Perhaps it was another reason why she had come to treasure Marcia in the way she did. Her oldest daughter was everything Aurelia herself had hoped to be, and she shone with maternal pride at the woman her daughter had become. If only Aurelilla could have been the same…

Aurelia was brought back from her reveries by the polite cough coming from the sleeping couch. Gaius had already retired and lay stretched out on Egyptian cotton sheets. He didn’t need asking her what had transpired earlier, the look he was giving her was enough to make her recount the events.

“I had a little talk with your son earlier.” Her tone was kept neutral but it was evident enough that she loathed Marcellus’ newfound position. “He harboured ideas that the girls and he would make a visit to the Caunos as they were going to Ostia as Marcia suggested. Naturally I had to put an end to such notions. Your daughters, especially when both of them are engaged to be married ought not to be seen there.” Aurelia held her husband’s gaze as she continued. “It is just not suitable that the daughters of a Praetor and the future wife of a Senator and a friend of Caesar’s to be socialising with those people.” Aurelia had half-expected some kind of admonition but Gaius seemed not to notice, at least his reaction did not conform to his usual energetic ways. Aurelia splashed some scented water on her face before she; completely undressed and with her hair released from the elaborate curls and ringlets, cascading freely down her back, lay down beside him on the sleeping couch.

It was not unusual for her husband to show affection, even when he was not having more carnal pleasures in sight, but the way he was holding on to her tonight was different. When he next spoke, Aurelia was grateful that all the servants save Desma had been dismissed. It had less to do with the things he said about Marcellus, Aurelia had guessed that her husband had had his doubts regarding his son’s character even before tonight. Rather it was how he referred to Aurelilla’s reaction to the engagement with Marcus Agrippa that sent her mind into turmoil.

As Gaius had remarked earlier, Aurelia had no great gift for expressing her feelings, instead she preferred not to dress such matters in words. On the other hand, it were the things she did not say that seemed to have the greatest impact on her husband. Now however she found herself trapped, there was nothing but trying to console him, even if it meant having to speak about things that she’d rather not mention at all. She gently disentangled herself from his embrace and sat up on the edge of the sleeping couch, coughing to gain a moment before she carefully phrased her reply.

“Perhaps it is true about Marcellus and Aurelilla, they seem besotted that is for sure but when you secure a favourable wedding for him he is bound to forget her sooner than Orpheus forgot not to turn around. Besides, young Marcus Vipsanius doesn’t seem the type of man who’d take lightly to competition.” Aurelia’s stern features lit up in a smile as she mentioned her son-in-law to be. She had taken an instant liking to young Agrippa and she was more than happy that Caesar had ordered the union between his protégé and her daughter. “As you so eloquently put it, Agrippa will bring indeed bring great fortune and honour to your house.” She coughed again, her husband’s last words flowing through her mind and causing bile to rise at the back of her throat. Aurelia clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms as her husband’s reaction was replayed for her eyes. A curse on that wretched child for doing this to him. The strength of the emotions caused her to stand up, she felt she couldn’t sit down never mind act with the grace with which a Roman matron handled sorrow.

“What is that nonsense? Lost her love. By Jove what is wrong with you?” The vehemence in her voice startled her but she had committed to this particular path and besides she was way to aggravated to be checked now. “What matters her wishes? She’s a girl and as such she’s to do what you, the Paterfamilias tells her to do. Do you think my father ever asked me what I wanted or how I felt? I was told I was to marry and that was the end of it, if I’ve made such a scene as she he’d tan my hide that’s for certain.” Aurelia was shouting now, the frustration finding an outlet as she berated her husband. “And lost her love? Juno’s cunt that’s such drivel. You know as well as I do that the girl loves no one like she does you.” Aurelia snorted derisively. “I swear on Jupiter’s stone that she loves you too much. Yes she does I tell you. Should you go to her chamber now she’d gladly spread her thighs wide open for you and…”

Aurelia didn’t see her husband move, nor did she have a chance to prepare herself for the slap that he landed on her cheek. She staggered, having been robbed of her balance as he struck her again, this time sending her to the floor with another slap to the side of her face. She could feel the stinging heat on her skin and the cold marble of the floor against her naked thighs and bottom as he moved closer, his hands clenched into fists. Throughout all the years in which they had been married he had never lifted his hand in anger at her, nor had he been as angry as he was now. Growing up, Aurelia had had her fair share of physical corrections, thus it was not fear that she felt but rather shame. Shame for having provoked him to this, making him lose his dignitas, even if it was only she who witnessed it. Thus she kept his gaze as he stepped closer her emerald eyes boring into the his brown ones as she mouthed a prayer of forgiveness to Isis. He must have heard, or at least read the name on her lips, because he shouted at her not to mention the foreign whore of a goddess, once more raising his fists until he finally regained his composure, letting his hands drop to his sides and turning away from her.

She slowly got to her feet, absentmindedly waving away Desma who had approached, and slowly moved closer to Gaius who was sitting on the edge of the couch. No tears stained his cheeks, instead there was an emptiness in his eyes as he looked at her, asking her what had become of them and then burying his face in his hands, as if he couldn’t stand looking at her.

It broke her heart seeing him like this, especially since she knew she was responsible for his current state. He had always treated her with more kindness than she deserved and this was the way that she rewarded him. Perhaps she was indeed deserving of whatever punishments the Parcae had decided for her. The self-pity threatened to overwhelm her and she quickly put it aside as she sank down on her knees before him, entwining her fingers with his and finding herself being taken into an embrace. He clung to her as a drowning person clings on to a piece of driftwood, holding her close to his chest. They stayed like that for some time, none of them speaking, since no words could possibly encompass the what had taken place, it felt like a foreboding of something even more sinister, but none of them seemed capable of stating it, although it was evident that they both shared that feeling. Thus Aurelia’s next words had more to do with desperation than reconciliation as she whispered into his ear.

“Make love to me.”

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

As Gaius sat on his bed, he heard but did not listen to his wife's exhortations against Marcellus. It was not that he did not agree with her (for while she said nothing, her unspoken words were kept plain enough, and in a woman of Aurelia's status and raising, that was de facto stating something outright, to fail to hide the tone). Far from it. In fact, truth be told, Gaius wasn't quite sure why he wasn't paying any attention to Aurelia right now. He usually gave her his utmost focus whenever she spoke - most Roman men would insist that he gave her too much attention. And those few other men who did know of how much care he lavished on Aurelia mostly indicated the same.

Now, however, he just couldn't focus on her. He wasn't sure why that was. Perhaps - and he thought this in a sudden spurt of rancid, bitter vitriol that would have surprised him in a more cognizant mood - he had just grown insensate over hearing the same diatribe from her, in the same tone of voice, so often over the past few days. His ears had simply reached a point of saturation. No, he thought, feeling ashamed suddenly. That was not it. He was just worried - about his family and children in general, yes, but about one in particular.

When Gaius began to shed his tears, confiding in his wife, he felt himself suddenly, and truly, devoid of what it meant to be a man. Throughout his life, certainly his adult wife, others had viewed him as being soft towards his wife, kin, slaves. However, their views had meant nothing to him, when he had proved himself in the eyes of the gods, the magistrates, and himself through valor in the field and the election. However, this, for the first time, caused him to doubt his own manhood.

Aurelia's initial reaction, in a sudden fearful bolt, confirmed his own doubts. Then, as her voiced raised along with the rage she was directing at him, the winds buffeting his animus shifted, directing it into the other direction. He stood up before her, his tears not wiped but forgotten, as Aurelia heaped outrage upon profane outrage, until, finally, Gaius was provoked.

"You will not say another word! Do you hear me, woman?!" His hand flashed out, striking her in the face.

"You will not utter such profanities at me. I will not suffer it. Not in my house, from anyone. Not the lowest slave, and not a cunt with an inflated sense of worth and an inability to shut her damned mouth!" The back of Gaius' hand returned, hitting her in the opposite side of the face, his knuckles connecting with her jawline and sprawling Aurelia to the ground.

He felt a flash of contentment as he stepped over her, pent-up anger perhaps from not only the marriage but the rest of his good-natured life. He felt absurd, absurd that he had felt unmanned only a moment before and even more absurd that he had not done this before. What a thrill! Like being in battle, but without any danger of his enemy striking a blow back at him. Who was she, to lecture him on manliness, on family? He had fought for Rome and family in Gaul. He had fought for their honor and welfare in the Senate. He had made decisions that were necessary and that Aurelia clearly would not have been able to tolerate - yet she was free to vent her spleen ad nauseaum, while he, finally having released his stored-up emotions, was the weak one?

"You are my wife, Aurelia. I am your husband. You have no right to say those things to me. You have no right. I have done things for this family that you will never know. That you would never have been strong enough to do. That's my secret, Aurelia. I know that I am stronger than you. Not just because a man is stronger than a woman. But because you...are...weak." He took a relish in dragging out his striking blow.

"I thought confiding in you would make it easier. Obviously, you would be happier just to be treated like every other dumb slut wife - you will not mention that foreign whore of a goddess!" It was bad enough that Aurelia chose to pay homage to the gods of a foreign and enemy land over those of the City itself, or even of the conquered Greeks and Gauls who were at least incorporated within Rome's empire. But to bring up Isis now...

Gaius stepped closer to her, his hands balled into fists, and raised over his head. These would not be simple slaps or backhands. These would give her some true coloring, something to reflect on over the next two or three weeks.

He looked into her eyes, those startling green eyes, and suddenly felt ashamed. Not from any fear or hatred she was radiating - but rather the shame.

What was he thinking?

He had always prized himself on valuing his wife's independent views, her often unique and revealing insights. Now he was going to beat her for them, beat her into all the other dull baubles of wives? He lowered his arms, with a ragged, half-mad half-desperate cry, sitting back down on the sleeping couch.

He heard what must have been Desma enter behind him, Aurelia shooing her away and then coming into view. His dear, sweet Aurelia - already the side of her face he had backhanded was growing slightly swollen purple.

"Lila..." he sobbed miserably. "What happened to us?" He didn't know whether he meant just then, or more dangerously, to their relationship in general. Then she was on her knees, before him, and he had taken her into his arms, holding her tight. Her scent was in his nostrils, her warmth next to his body.

When she voiced her request, Gaius did not reply in words. Instead, he pulled her up next to him, savoring revealing breasts that were still as beautiful and lush as he remembered from their courting. His mouth moved to first her left, then her right nipple, suckling on them, his tongue washing over her entire breast. They were panting now, her mouth hot and wet on his own skin, her hands pushing his own clothing off. She rolled under him, hands positioning, and then he was inside her, thrusting together. In unison, connected together. Together, one flesh, as first her and then he spent, falling together, their skin slick and warm against one another's...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

The next morning, Gaius and Aurelia watched as the wagon that carried their children off to their grandmother's house vanished around the bend of the street. He let out a breath that he hadn't been aware he had been holding in. It had been an awkward morning, and early as it was, had seemed an eternity before the children had finally left. None of them had commented on their mother's bruised jawline, thankfully - at least, as far as he knew. He had also been quiet towards Aurelia, and had managed to avoid Aurelilla almost entirely, save for the brief, formal - and therefore, between the two of them, awkward as could be - farewell in the morning. His wife's words still rung in Gaius' ears.

Now, however, they were gone, and it would be their Nanna's problem to handle.

Gaius turned towards Aurelia, finally speaking to her. "I have a day at the Senate. There is much to do. Caesar is going to be planning his march against Pompey, and I will need to be there." He leaned in, kissing her on the cheek.

"I will be back this afternoon. We will talk more then. I love you, Aurelia."

He paused, then took her chin into his hands, pointing her face to look at him, into his eyes. "I love you, Aurelia. I mean that." He kissed her again, on this lips this time, then called out to Solon to join him for the day's work ahead.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

It seemed to Aurelia that the lovemaking was just as painful as the exchange prior to it had been. Not in a physical sense of the word, but rather from the emotional discharge that the intimacy released. The tears she had shed mixed with the sweat on Gaius’ body and brought a sharp twang of salt to her bruised lips. Every thrust drove his manhood deeper inside her, his fingers running through her hair, as her nails dug into the skin of his back. The rhythm of their coitus quickened as he neared his climax, coaxing her along until she felt the familiar contractions that preceded her own orgasm.

Although she despised the notion of herself as such, she had always been governed by the less rational sides of her personality. While she had been forced to become harder, shrouding herself in the austere raiment of the Matron, she longed for the moments when she could lose herself to her desires and needs. Thus as the first tremor began she dug her nails into her husband’s back, breaking the skin beneath them, and at the same time, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. The surge of the climax seared like heated iron and was almost as painful as would touching such be, but beneath the physical and emotional pain lay something altogether different.

Blessed oblivion.

Short as it may be it still served to lessen the weight which had been placed on her shoulders, giving the frustrations an outlet, and making it possible for Aurelia to preserve the image of perfection for which she had strived for as long as she could remember. Yet tonight it seemed that even the lovemaking would not bridge the chasm that had opened between herself and Gaius. She was still shaken by the beating, not in a physical sense, Aurelia had suffered worse than this, her reaction stemmed more from the fact that her husband had allowed himself to be pushed as far as to administer a physical correction. It was not that she didn’t understand the violent propensities of her husband, he had been a solider for as long as she had known him, but he had kept that particular side of his persona to the service of Mars and Bellona. It was not that he didn’t have the moral and legal right to punish his household, yet up until now Gaius Marcius had always found ways that didn’t call for him doing so.

Aurelia laid back on the soft pillows of the sleeping couch, her arm draped loosely over her face, obscuring her countenance to her husband’s eyes. She didn’t know whether he wanted to talk, it was an educated guess but right now she could not muster the energy to do so. She hated having to dress her thoughts in words thereby limiting the full meaning of the same into phrases which could not encompass even a fraction of the manifold meanings contained therein. She knew this was a weakness of hers, but the lesson had been firmly hammered into her; talking only caused suffering. Perhaps it was not so strange why Aurelilla never uttered a word when in Aurelia’s presence.

She bit her lower lip as she rolled over on her side, feeling her husband’s arm around her slender waist, his hand cupping her right breast as he murmured something unintelligible. Aurelilla had become the perfect copy of herself. The realisation was even more painful than the blow to her face had been. Unwittingly so she had created a perfect copy of the very things she most loathed, the insecurities of her own person, now given human form. It seemed that the cruelty of the Gods knew no end, and such elaborate scheme could only have originated with Juno herself.

Suddenly it all became apparent. Aurelilla would repeat the same pattern as she had done, marrying a man who would walk to the ends of the world for her, and she would in turn reward him with the same kind of failure as Aurelia had offered Gaius. Like Gaius, Marcus Agrippa would find his hopes and expectations crushed by the inabilities of Aurelilla, just as Gaius’ had been by her own. On and on the wheel would spin until an another weave in the great web would be completed all the while Juno and the Sisters would laugh, mocking the vain hopes of mortals.

Aurelia bit her lip, opening the would again as she struggled to contain her reaction. She did not want to wake Gaius, he would surely misinterpret why she was crying, and they would be back at square one again. He would apologise for something which lay outside his control, and she would lie and say that no harm had been done, and the chasm would widen further. Thus she fought to keep the tears at bay, listening to her husband’s breathing as he slept, happily unaware of the portents

***
She awoke before dawn it seemed, gently disentangling herself from her husband’s embrace and quietly beginning her day, having her bath, getting dressed and having her hair and make-up done. It was only when her Greek bodyslave applied the final touches to her hair that she realised that she had not made eye contact with her. Aurelia smiled mirthlessly as she noted the disapproving face which Desma wore, no doubt at the Aurelia’s bruised jaw. Her mother had looked when she had occupied the position Desma now held. While their relation sometimes transcended the roles assigned to them by social convention, now was not a time when Aurelia would allow the Greek woman to voice her thoughts on the matter. The balance of the Marciae Nervae had been upset already, and Aurelia was anxious not to worsen the matter. Still she acknowledged the bodyslave’s concerns with a sad smile in the bronze mirror. It was as far as she would go for now.

Breakfast was already set when she walked into the trinclinium, and her children were already in attendance, all of them standing up to greet her as she sat down. Aurelia noticed the looks that they were giving her, homing in on the bruise on her face but none of them offered a comment on the matter. If time had permitted it she would have spoken to Marcia about it, explaining, if not in exact detail then at least with broad strokes, what had provoked the girl’s father to do so. Perhaps it was irrational a feeling, but Aurelia thought she could detect something in her oldest daughter’s eyes when she had met her gaze, and it was worrying her. She knew that Marcia would sooner drink poison then openly criticise her father, yet there was something which bespoke something more than shocked surprise of her state.

As for the other two they kept quiet, although Aurelia guessed that they did so for entirely different reasons. While Aurelilla was not the most alert not even she could have missed the obvious signs, and it was natural a reaction for the girl to make herself seem even more inconspicuous as not to draw Aurelia’s attention. Normally such reaction was likely to earn her a scolding from her mother, but today Aurelia opted to keep quiet. The clarity of last night still vivid in her mind.

She looked at Marcellus as she put her cup of mulled wine down and reached for the plate of fruit. His expression was blank, but Aurelia thought she could detect a simmering anger beneath the polite surface. He had probably not taken kindly at being chastised, although there had been no witness to the whole incident last night. It was a guess of course, as was the notion that her husband’s son took pleasure from seeing the marks on her face. Once again she felt the bile rise at the back of the throat, the same feelings of anger and hopelessness threatening to come crashing back. She steeled herself as she looked straight at Marcellus, offering her as genuine a smile as she could muster and nodded for a servant to pass him the tray as they were joined by Gaius. Her husband was more quiet than usual, keeping his conversation to a bare minimum, and it was not long before the girls and Marcellus excused themselves, no doubt relishing not having to be part of the poor attempts at normality.

The two of them being left alone did not put an end to the oppressive silence, instead it only seemed to underline the same. The fears that some kind of line had been passed were evident enough, and for the first time Aurelia wished she could have said something to alleviate such. Yet no words would form and thus none were said, the only thing she could do was to give his hand a squeeze before she too excused herself. There were matters to attend to before the girls left. She would need to speak to the escort, as well as making sure that her mother had got the letter she had sent, it was a mere formality but one which she took very serious indeed. Surely Lavinia Aurelia would have enough to complain about already, of that Aurelia was certain. Her mother was less a woman than an instrument of divine wrath, at least that was how she had perceived Lavinia. It was strange that even now, after so many years the thought of her mother’s displeasure could still elicit such fears. She wondered if Aurelilla would feel the same one day? Given their current relation it was likely an outcome.

She shook her head as she walked aimlessly through the villa, Desma had already seen to most of the things necessary, and Marcia’s girls had done the rest. She found herself feeling surplus to requirements, and with that came the familiar signs of an on setting headache. Passing Aurelilla’s room she saw her daughter standing by the closet, looking as lost as she always did whenever a decision had to be made. This time it seemed to be about what particular palla her servant was to pack for her. It was symptomatic, yet it offered her a pretext for talking to her. She whispered a command to her bodyslave before she entered her daughter’s room, inwardly wincing as the girl almost jumped at her appearing.

“You should go with the scarlet one. It suits you better than the blue.” Aurelia ran her hand down the garment held up for inspection by the servant in attendance. “Leave us!” She snapped the command as Desma appeared soundlessly and handed something over to her. Aurelia sat down on the bed, watching her youngest keeping her eyes firmly on the floor while she fiddled with the hem of her palla as was her habit whenever she was feeling uncomfortable.

“I won’t go through the whole litany again.” Aurelia began as she looked closely at her daughter. “I suppose you’re not too happy with the engagement and all but I think that it’s the best that could have happened. Marcus Agrippa seems a honourable young man after all, and with your father’s help he will become a man to be reckoned with. After all he is a friend of the Consul, and thanks to you your father has become an even more important ally of Caesar.” Perhaps it was a waste of time, Aurelia wasn’t too sure that Lilla would understand the complexities of Roman politics, yet it had to be said and she would just have to overlook the impulse to make a snappy remark. Instead she stood up and gently turned Aurelilla’s face upwards so that she could make eye-contact with her daughter. “I know we’ve had our differences but perhaps it’s time to put an end to them ne?” She gently hung the sistrum and the sliver chain around Aurelilla’s neck. “It’s the sign Isis, not really a Roman goddess but I think she’s more likely to help you than Diana is. Or Juno for that matter.” Aurelia bit her lip before she continued. “She’s the Mother of all mercies, not vengeful like Diana and Juno. She loves he children without question.” She stood back and gave Aurelilla a final glance. “Just don’t forget to honour the other two. There’s a good girl.” She could feel her voice about to break and she quickly withdrew from her daughter. It was probably the most she’d said to Aurelilla without chastising her for this or the other, and although her words had been masked as an extolment of Isis’ virtues, she hoped that Aurelilla would understand the deeper meaning.

She next went to Marcia’s room, watching as her daughter harried the servants into order. She was as different from Aurelilla as night was from day, and yet they had been conceived in the same bed and grown in the same womb. It was dizzying a thought and Aurelia guessed that even if she dedicated the rest of her life to finding the answer to how it had become so, she doubted very much she would. She heard her daughter saying something, and realised that she had been lost in thought. Marcia probably thought her a daft old woman, but even if so was the case, the gross dishonour was acceptable from her. When all was said and done Marcia was her pride, a feeling which had only grown stronger as the girl had made the transition into adulthood within a few short days.

The servants were dismissed, like the exchange with Aurelilla, this too required some privacy, slaves did gossip after all. She smiled as Marcia walked up to her, and in what was a very rare sign of affection she embraced her daughter. She could smell the fragrance of her hair and feel the strength that was concealed beneath the surface. This woman would change the world. It was as simple as that.

Aurelia broke the embrace, but kept her hands on her daughter’s shoulders as she spoke. “I don’t need to tell you but let us do so for the sake of convention. You’ll keep an eye on your sister, make sure she acts respectful towards your grandparents.” She wanted to tell Marcia more things, to keep Aurelilla away from Marcellus, but it was clear that her oldest knew that already. “If you stay longer than planned write me. You will promise me that.” She received a confirmatory nod. “I’ll say my fare-wells now, I don’t like drawn-out affairs and I daresay that neither do you.” She smiled sadly as she let go of Marcia and turned to leave.

***
She had spent the day on her own, Gaius’ last words echoing in her ears. It seemed they were both in a right state. Still what puzzled her was the fact that her husband seemed even more affected by the things that had progressed between them than she had been. Then again, he was a gentle person, even with last night’s actions fresh in her mind. It was complicated, more so than she had thought life could become. And it would probably require talking, but it was a cheap price to be paid.

Aurelia sighed as she sat up on the couch. Gaius would be home soon, he had sent words from the Senate and she had made certain that supper was prepared. She listened to the sounds of the house, knowing that he had come home before the words were relayed to her by one of the servants. She straightened her palla and offered him a shy smile as she stepped inside the room.

“I missed you.”

 

[Britwitch]

Aurelilla Nervonis

“You should go with the scarlet one. It suits you better than the blue.”
Aurelilla had been lost in her own contemplation when her mother’s voice broke through her musing and brought her back to he present. She tried not to jump but the reaction had already occurred and had no doubt been noticed already by her mother’s keen eye. Aurelilla simply stood, vaguely aware of her attendants leaving the two of them alone, her fingers straying to the hem of her palla unbidden, idly twisting the fabric between their tips.
“I won’t go through the whole litany again…I suppose you’re not too happy with the engagement and all but I think that it’s the best that could have happened. Marcus Agrippa seems a honourable young man after all, and with your father’s help he will become a man to be reckoned with. After all he is a friend of the Consul, and thanks to you your father has become an even more important ally of Caesar.”
“Yes Mother…of course…” Aurelilla began, her heart already aching at the thought of marrying that…that stranger. Even if it was for the best, even if it would help them all in the end, she couldn’t bear to think of it.

She felt her breath catch as fingers gently pushed her chin upwards, angling her face towards her mother’s, forcing their eyes to meet. For an instant Aurelilla wanted to look away, certain that all of the guilty, unexplainable thoughts running through her mind would be visible. That her mother would know, know all the things she desired and did not yet understand.
“I know we’ve had our differences but perhaps it’s time to put an end to them ne?”
“I…I would like that…” Aurelilla began, growing silent as she felt the cool metal encircle her neck and rest lightly against her collarbone. She glanced down and fingered the pendant tentatively.
“It’s the sign Isis, not really a Roman goddess but I think she’s more likely to help you than Diana is. Or Juno for that matter…She’s the Mother of all mercies, not vengeful like Diana and Juno. She loves he children without question…Just don’t forget to honour the other two. There’s a good girl.”
“It’s beautiful, thank you…and I will make sure I…” Aurelilla murmured, raised her eyes to see her mother’s back as she left, her words tailing off as she realised no one was listening.

Aurelilla spent a moment or two contemplating the uncharacteristic urge that filled her to follow her mother, to embrace her and thank her…but she knew she could not. Sighing, she returned her attentions to her open, and as yet unpacked, travelling bag. The scarlet and blue pallas resting upon the bed. Her hand hovered over the blue, her choice, before moving to the red, hesitating before picking up the flowing garment and moving it to rest on top of the bag. Her attendants would fold and pack her clothes to ensure that creasing was minimised and the palla would be ready to wear whenever she desired it.
Her mother’s words echoing in her ears,
‘She loves her children without question…’
“Why should it be only the Gods who can love without question…?” Aurelilla mumbled, a frown creasing her perfect features for a moment. “And why should we mortals be made to question our ‘suitability’ for affection…?”
Tutting at the sheer self-indulgence of her whispered musings, she called her servants back into the room and watched as they packed everything she would need for her trip with barely a word spoken by her. They knew even better than she what she would need.

The departure from their home had been strained to say the least. Aurelilla had felt a pang of sadness at her father’s farewell. Even with their discussion the previous evening, she had not been expecting a gushing send off from her mother and it did not come. But her father, of him she had expected…something…instead she had been bestowed with an awkward embrace and a smile that did not reach his eyes, which never quite rose to meet hers. Aurelilla had taken her seat in the wagon, casting her eyes away from the house and the sight of her parents waving them off, determined not to cry.
She watched as the wagon passed through the winding streets on it’s way out of the town and into the countryside. Smiling sadly as she saw mother’s and children walking through the markets and alleyways hand in hand, simply enjoying each other’s company. Her keen eyes soon spied a couple in a shadowy corner, their arms entwined and their bodies almost one, their heads were close and tipped at an angle to the side. She was certain they were kissing, if not sharing something more intimate and all of a sudden she was aware of how her own breathing had quickened and she quickly looked away. In doing so her eyes met Marcellus’ and while it could only have been for an instant, Aurelilla found herself fighting to tear her gaze away.
Had he been watching the same scene as she as they made their slow journey onwards? Had he envisioned a different pair of people as she had done…?

She let her eyes drift out to the passing scenery, focusing all her energy on not looking at Marcellus, watching the buildings give way to rolling fields and an impossibly clear blue sky. Fighting inside to remain calm and collected on the outside. She did not trust herself to even glance in his direction, especially not with Marcia sitting so closeby, certain her thoughts would be perceived by her sister in spite of her best efforts to conceal them.
The wagon was quiet, aside from the constant rumble of the wheels against the road beneath them. Aurelilla wet her lips, certain her silence would betray her as quickly as a stolen glance in Marcellus’ direction.
“Do you suppose we will get there before nightfall…?” She eventually managed to say, her eyes now fixed upon her lap, fingers once more straying to the edge of her palla, running idly up and down alongside her neck. “I cannot remember how long the journey took the last time we visited, although I am sure the roads are far better now than they were then…” Aurelilla winced at the sheer stupidity of her words. She was certain that neither of her fellow travellers cared about the state of the roads just as she was certain that Marcia, if not also Marcellus, would suspect her interest was feigned for the sake of conversation alone. “It is a beautiful day, we have been blessed by the Gods with such fine weather for travelling in…” Aurelilla turned her eyes up to the sun filled sky above, closing them slightly enjoying it’s warmth as well as preventing her from seeing what she was certain would be bemused expressions on her travelling companions’ faces. Her eyes flickered open and she looked back out over the scenery slowly passing them by. “It’s all so very beautiful…” She sighed.

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia

The wagon jarred Marcia’s body back and forth in an irritating manner. A frown carved deep into her face without any pretense of trying to hide her displeasure. Awaking this morning, her heart shattered at the purple blistering insult that fouled her mother’s face. The swollen contusion reminded Marcia of a common slave. Father had taken her dignity with her mother’s. He’d struck her mother. He had actual taken up force with their blessed mother. Knowing the foul ways of men, he most likely did it to show his friends his control and power over his house. Men rule the world with brute force granted to them by the twisted sense of humor of the gods. If only she were male, she’d have picked up the sword and impaled him before the sun had hit mid sky. She cursed her gender as her angry fists twisted in her lap. The knuckles turned white as her nails ripped open her palms. Smalls lines of red trickled over her fists and dropped to stain her pale purple palla. Oblivious to the mess, Marcia stared straight forward locked in her hate.

No one treated her mother that way. Husbandly right or not, he would pay. Her emerald eyes rolled to the side to look upon the commoners that soiled the streets. They disgusted her just like her father. Their faces all blurred together. Male or female, they all looked like the same low creature. The stench of their unwashed bodies pressed together in the streets revolted her. She dared one of them to look upon her in the mood she was in this day. The gods created them only to serve the chosen, the Romans. But, why had they created so many? She should like to see them die about now. There were so many to spare. She wished the gods to send a beast to rip the crowd to shreds as an apology for allowing her father to strike her mother. The walls of the beautiful Roman bathed in a crimson gift just for her. She watched expectedly for the gods to give her that much. The streets gave way to the countryside and her mood darkened further. The gods denied her once more. Had they no heart for their chosen people? How dare they allow her father do this to her on the eve of her wedding!

The thought saturated her being until she could hear the god’s laughter louder then the wheels that turned over the uneven road. The scene played out like a sick comedy for the divine. Her mother’s strained cries pleading for mercy as he struck her over and over again. The crack of her frail neck as it snapped back with force. One hand on her throat, he thrust his fist into the side of her mother’s flawless face. The expression of helpless terror swelling the eyes that looked upon Marcia with such love. From those eyes so like Marcia’s, tears flowed like tiny rivers of pain. Her body flinched at the image. He probably forced himself upon her when he was done beating her like a whore. He must see her mother like his barren whore. Like a enemy solider, the image of her father sweated and grunted as he raped her helpless mother in Marcia’s waking nightmare. The penetration of his sex was the final defilement of her sacred idol. Her stomach retched and exploded with bile into her mouth. Marcia’s hand flew to cover her trembling lips. She swallowed down the sickness while her lashes fluttered away the welling of tears. Her sister’s words cut into the moment with bizarre lightness.

“Do you suppose we will get there before nightfall…? I cannot remember how long the journey took the last time we visited, although I am sure the roads are far better now than they were then…It is a beautiful day, we have been blessed by the Gods with such fine weather for travelling in. It’s all so very beautiful…” She sighed.

She turned slowly to Aurelilla. Her tongue fought to find a response to any of the questions and a tone suitable to her sister. They had both been defiled by their father’s barbaric behavior. It was her duty as the elder to protect her sister now. She had sworn to give her sister what she really wanted. In this promise, she would exact a revenge on her father and his poor judgment. She would take from him the house the gods had denied her with her gender. Her new brother was her only obstacle and Aurelilla would take that away with her marriage to him. Her husband’s politic prowess would ensure she could seize the lands and coffers. No one else would be left to inherit once father was dead. She must not rush it though. His mistake last night sealed his fate. He must suffer before he falls. His disgrace must be complete before she slits his throat. If he’d not been a fool, he could have had the gentle sleep of poison. However, he chose the blade in his brutality.

“Aurelilla, this day is not beautiful,” she answered softly. “I will soon show you a day sent directly from the gods in all its glowing glory. This day will be quite common in comparison.”

She smiled and looked with soft eyes at her sister. Then, Marcia turned back to look at the road they had covered. Her eyes locked on the horizon. They had covered much road, but still had so far to travel. The journey with a great destination always seemed longer then it really was. She just needed patience knowing they were progressing in their travels. A calmness set into her spirit. Her letter was in route to her future husband. The country would be where they would find each other. Hopefully, he would come.

“Brother, how far are your people from here?” Marcia did not turn as she spoke to him. “I should think no one would know if we were to steal away one afternoon for a short visit. Aurelilla and me will be each other’s chaperones. I know we have nothing to fear from you, dearest brother. I think Aurelilla would even be quite safe with you alone. You do love her, do you not? She is your sister. No one would hurt someone they loved, would they? I know I never would.”

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

Screened from the sharp easterly breeze that blew from the sea, the air in the covered wagon grew more stifling as their journey lengthened. Marcellus became restless amid the opulent, overstuffed luxury of the ladies carriage.

The Rattle and jerk of their progress over the Ostian highway was excruciating monotony. He stared through the rear curtain, which he had tied back at the early request of the Lady Marcia. Glimpses of the countryside did little to relieve his mood and he stared with growing anxiety at the dwindling hills and walls of Rome.

The stress of his baptism into the Marcia Nervae showed no signs of relenting. Jealousy and intrigue seemed to lurk beneath every word and gesture. The hectic pace of events from his adoption, the sisters' betrothals and Lady Aurelia's anger and subsequent shaming had left him reeling.

Marcellus was not a man like Gaius or Marcus Scribonius - a skilled political operator. He was a soldier and most at ease in the company of soldiers. He was no fool, but he realised now how much he relied upon his Mother and Philo his dead birth-father's steward when it came to matters of diplomacy. On several occasions in recent days he had wanted to return home; to consult those upon whom he had so often depended - those to whom he could even admit that he was out of his depth. However, due to the faith and trust of his noble friend and comrade, he now had a new family. He could scarcely lay his troubles concerning them as a burden upon those they had so recently supplanted.

"Brother, how far are your people from here?" The Lady Marcia asked suddenly. She spoke as though referring to a slave camp or leper colony rather than those closest to her adopted brother. Without even looking at him she seemed to be able to peer deep into his mind and, not for the first time, he wondered what witchery mother and eldest daughter worked when alone together.
"I should think no one would know if we were to steal away one afternoon for a short visit." Marcia continued. "Aurelilla and me will be each other’s chaperones. I know we have nothing to fear from you, dearest brother. I think Aurelilla would even be quite safe with you alone. You do love her, do you not? She is your sister. No one would hurt someone they loved, would they? I know I never would.”

"Nor I, truly," he replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his upper lip. Leaving the question of love conspicuously behind he said, "My mother's house is a little further on. You turn off the highway just before you reach the Via Capua. The house is on the hill overlooking the bay."

Marcia turned to him and smiled as she leaned back upon the rich cushions. It was a wide, radiant smile yet her eyes were like beautiful mirrors; deep, smokey crystals concealing her innermost thoughts.

Marcellus poured himself a cup of wine from an elegant table, nailed into place in the rug and fur-strewn floor. Damn that bitch! He knew that she was mocking him and there was nothing he could do about it! He knew also that her comment about hurting loved ones was a veiled reference to her father's actions of the previous night. As to whether it was intended to provoke him or her sister, silent and wrapped in her own melancholy upon a pile of silks, he had no clue.

For Marcellus, this summed up his trouble with the family. He was never sure who was trying to hurt who and why? No matter how he tried to keep up he always seemed to be a step behind.
As for Gaius... his taming of Aurelila had raised him even higher in Marcellus' esteem! She'd had it coming. That was for certain. Gauis was her husband and it was his right, his duty to exercise control over his house. It was in fact, long overdue.

All the officers - indeed all the men - of the VIIIth knew of the Legate's softness toward his wife. His indulgence of her and his monogamy were the subject of much amusement throughout the ranks. On campaign, the men even joked that it brought the legion luck. After all, if the Legate had to get home to get his leg over, surely it meant they all got home the quicker!

To Marcellus who enjoyed all women - willing, unwilling or working - the Legate's attitude was anathema. And the provocation that man must have endured over the years! Marcellus knew now of Aurelia's tongue, having experienced its sharp edge first hand. Perhaps if Gaius had applied more discipline earlier in the marriage things may have turned out different. Perhaps even the rest of his family wouldn't be so fucked up? But by all the Gods, if that woman were his she'd have been a sorrier bitch that morning! She'd have been black and blue and raw and bleeding from every...

"I'm a little cold," Aurelilla's soft voice broke the vicious, delicious chain of mental images.

You're kidding! It's hotter than Hades in here! He looked to Marcia, at whose earlier demand he had tied the rear curtain open. Marcellus did not want to lose what little air and view they had and he was wary of going against the elder sister's wishes. But the power of Aurelilla's gaze was irresistible in such close confines and even before Marcia conceded with a dismissive shrug, he was reaching for the heavy woollen ropes.

Silence. Marcellus gulped his wine in the growing heat. The sounds from the horses and men outside seemed far off. The smells of man, beast and field were gone and the scent of perfume rose up from the silks and cushions and from his two travelling companions.

He had noticed Aurelilla's scent upon greeting her that morning. It was light and delicate like the breath of spring through jasmine. They had embraced chastely, as brother and sister should. Inside he had longed to crush her slim body against him; to hear her gasp with pain; to see fear and desire go to war upon her lovely face.
Marcia's perfume was richer and much more potent. It dominated the now enclosed wagon; an intoxicating fragrance that minded him of the thronging bazaars, dusky skins and ornate temples of the barbarian east.

Marcellus saw her watching him from beneath heavy lashes. What was she scheming? Was it only shock that made her turn so pale upon seeing her mother's bruised face that morning? Why had the girl suggested they leave the city?
This at least was not an unwelcome idea to the Tribune. The tensions of the household had become unbearable. He feared that his self-control would slip and he would betray himself in some way by word or deed and thus diminish himself in the Legate's eyes. This, he reasoned, was probably just what Aurelia wanted and he hid not wish to grant her - aye, and witch bitch daughter - that satisfaction. Yes, much better for him to get out of there for a while and take stock. He needed to secure his new position, away from enemies and rivals. And of these he had no shortage. Rivals seemed to be arriving in ever increasing numbers!

Timing could not, in fact be better, Marcellus mused. Granny may take a bit of charming but that should not be beyond his capabilities. And then there would be just himself and his dear sweet sisters! Marcellus smiled in spite of himself. Perhaps he would begin to pierce the veil in which Marcia so expertly clothed herself. One thing was certain, she needed to learn that Marcellus Flavius Cauno, Laticlavian Tribune of Rome's finest legion was not a man to be slighted. Whatever mischief she was making, she would take him on at her peril. As for Aurelilla...

Not for the first time upon his gaze feasted upon the girl's lissom curves as she sat ill at ease opposite him. He knew that she was deliberating trying to avoid his eye, toying with the corner of her embroidered gown, twisting it between moist fingers. He lingered on her slender neck and full bosom, revealed by her plunging neckline. Unlike her sister, who knew well her power over men, Aurelilla seemed heedless of her body's allure - a virginal but maddening challenge to a man like the Tribune.

Emboldened by the intimacy of the surroundings, by wine and by lust Marcellus suddenly arose, crossed the narrow space and positioned himself upon the cushions between the two of them.
"I just know that we three are going have a wonderful time together," he crooned. "I am looking forward to getting to know both of you so much better."

Smiling broadly he turned to Aurelilla, taking her chin in one hand and placing a gentle kiss upon her brow. Unseen by Gaius youngest, his other hand delved behind his back and slid under the hem of Marcia's gown where it had parted above the knee. Before she could react, the Tribune's meaty paw seized her in a firm and most un-brotherly grip. For a heatbeat he outraged her and then, almost as quickly the hand withdrew.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Lavinia Aurelia

It was still the early hours, Sol had just barely risen above the horizon but nonetheless heralded that the day would be as oppressively hot as yesterday. The weather had been unpredictable ever since Caesar had returned to Rome it seemed. The superstitious and the outright stupid whispered about it being divine retribution for the Consul’s impudence; that Jupiter himself had decided to punish his own city for the acts of one man.

It was ridiculous a position Lavinia decided as she was taking breakfast in the secluded garden of the Villa Aurelia. The gods had more pressing matters to attend to than meddling with the weather, and if anyone was interested in finding the roots to misfortunes then they needn’t look further than to their fellow man. She nodded for one of the slaves to continue his summary of the estate’s income. Not only did the Aurelii Orestes control a fair portion of the grain runs from Egypt; there was also the vast estates here in Ostia and further south in Campania. It was the very foundation for the immense fortune hoarded by four generations of the family, and one which had given the family a position of, if not actual political power, then at last one of peripheral such.

Not that anyone had had much interest in politics as such. The Aurelii Orestes had been happy enough to supply generous loans to aspiring patricians who lacked the necessary means to carve out a career for themselves. Loans which had to be repaid, not only in mundane coin but in services and more elusive but equally powerful, gratitude.

Money, and the knowledge of where to invest it. Those were ultimately the twin pillars on which success were built. It didn’t matter who ruled Rome, the people would need their grain and their oil. Two commodities both with the merit of being entirely insensitive to the current political turmoil. Every man who aspired to rule Rome would first have to dig deep in the coffers to make sure that there was enough grain to support the citizens, and even though the price had to be lowered at times, the sheer volumes which the Aurelii Orestes controlled secured a handsome payment at the end of the day.

Lavinia nodded as the slave finished up the report, and was dismissed. She’d made it her habit to keep herself informed about the family’s financial situation. She would never dream of assuming to tell her husband of course. But sometimes it was prudent to hint to Titus’ secretary that perhaps an adjustment of prices here or a contract with that particular skipper there might be beneficial. On the whole the arrangement had worked out well. Titus Aurelius was the lord and ruler of his household, and the financial genius, at least to the public eye and that was all that mattered.

She turned to her bodyslave who was standing in close attention. “Is everything set for when my granddaughters arrive?” It was not a question; Lavinia had never bothered about asking a slave or a servant. She gave the orders and they were obeyed. The servant nodded, knowing better than to offer anything but the replies which her mistress wanted to hear. “They should be here quite soon and I imagine they will be tired from the journey. It’s not really a suitable way for young women to travel.” Lavinia left the sentence unfinished; she had no intention speaking her mind about her daughter’s decision to send the girls over, least of all to a slave. Yet it was fair to assume that she was not best pleased about it. She could hardly remember when she had last seen the two, but the lasting impression had been that young Marcia had some potential, The impending marriage to Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus was the prudent decision, it would secure the girl’s place among the highest echelons of Roman society. Lavinia smiled as he considered the late Marcus the Older. The man had been an absolute terror, but with a certain usefulness. Apparently the younger Marcus was more subtle and had arranged himself alongside Caesar.

If young Marcia had an ounce of sense she would exploit this utmost, and her fortune was guaranteed. From what Aurelia had written, it seemed a likely outcome.

Then there was Aurelilla as well. Lavinia sighed as she recounted what she had read and her own recollections of her youngest granddaughter. The girl appeared to be just as big a disappointment as Aurelia. Too timid and governed by emotions rather than prudence. It was a shame, but some people just couldn’t be helped. Aurelia…Lavinia shook her head as she considered her daughter. The girl, even though she was the mother of two and the wife of the Praetor, Lavinia still could not bring herself to consider her as anything but that, should have counted herself damn lucky that her father had arranged the marriage to Gaius Marcius. It had been costly an alliance but the Aurelii Orestes had the means, and the investment had proved a successful one. She had achieved an elevated position, the wife of the Praetor, a reputation for being chaste and moral, and with a husband who apparently worshipped the ground she walked on. Although Aurelia had not communicated her feelings regarding her husband’s decision to adopt his laticlavian Tribune it was evident to a skilled observer as Lavinia to figure it out.

Another piece on the board as well, young Marcellus Marcius Nerva Flavianus. She knew of his family, or at least the family he had been born in to, peripherally. Well respected, at least for people of their class. His mother was patrician by birth, but aside from that Lavinia had never bothered to get better acquainted with the Caunos. Not that it mattered now. If the boy had half a brain he would jump to the opportunity and become everything which Gaius Marcius had wanted of him.

She got up from her seat, moving through the vast expanses of the villa. Unlike Aurelia who relied heavily on her bodyslave for the actual running of the household, Lavinia had made it her business to be the one authority. Slaves, no matter how skilled could never assume the role which providence had given a member of the ruling classes. She entered the kitchens, nodding to herself as the staff eyed her cautiously. Lavinia was no stranger to doling out punishments, it was a necessary part of running a household. A slave was lazy, and it was better to be proactive to stem such behaviour. Be too soft on them and they would neglect their duties and would prove just a financial burden.

Turning to the cook and giving the woman a long, calculating stare. “I want a selection of fine meats prepared. Freshly made bread.” She critically eyed the state of the room, finding it to be to her standards. She had had one of the staff whipped for not keeping the cleanliness up to her standards and it had paid off. One usually achieved more by using the iron fist rather than a velvet glove. “Yes domina.” The cook looked down as she replied in the manner that the household had been drilled to do. “Good, and make sure that the girls serving the food are clean, and don’t assign anything to the stupid German one.” She turned without waiting for a confirmation. The Germanic slaves always proved troublesome, hardly more than animals they were, even after a few good scrubbings and a sound whipping. But there was no helping some.

Lavinia returned to her seat in the garden, where one of the silent servants filled her cup with cool lemon water. The heat had begun to rise, and soon it would be unbearable. There was however a cool breeze blowing in from the sea, and it would mean that the grain ships would make good speed on the last leg of their journey from Egypt. Every ship which landed, every cargo of grain added to the wealth of the family. Lavinia found herself wondering if anyone of the girls understood the mechanisms, and if so, if they would be able to use such. Even though women, least of all Lavinia, took an active part in the business dealings, it was still an important thing to understand. Although in Marcia’s case she would have to learn to interact with the political allies of her husband, knowing who his clients were; how to impress his political superiors and win them over by the subtlety of the Matron’s arts. A well planned dinner could be just as effective a way to strengthen a husband’s position. She would need to talk to Marcia about it.

As for Aurelilla. Lavinia shook her head. What had Gaius Marcius been thinking, promising the girl to the complete nobody Agrippa. The family was dirt poor and lacked influence and the only possible explanation must be that her granddaughter and this Agrippa character had already sampled the more carnal sides of a relationship. A marriage, even one as was planned would nonetheless be less of a scandal than having a bastard born.

Thus she was absorbed in thought when one of the servants respectfully informed her that the ladies Marcia and Aurelilla Nervonis together with their brother had arrived. Lavinia nodded as she stood up, adjusting her stola as she did. Her dark locks were pulled back and secured in a simple yet elegant bun at the nape of her neck. She watched as another servant escorted the girls into secluded garden, Marcia leading the way, tall and proud and looking much like a younger copy of herself. Timid Aurelilla trailing a step or so behind, her looks making her less of an Aurelii Orestes and behind her was Marcellus. An impressive character no doubt, definitely looking the part of the soldier.

Lavinia crossed over to where the girls where standing, “There you are my doves. Look at you all grown up.” She allowed her granddaughters to kiss her cheek before she addressed Marcellus. “And welcome Marcellus. I hope you are settling in well. Not quite easy to find oneself being the son of the Praetor just like that.” She didn’t wait for him to answer but turned back to the girls again. “Now you will tell me everything about your upcoming marriages. I’m particularly pleased to hear about you and Marcus Scribonius Marcia.” She offered Aurelilla a pitying stare. “And this young man of yours, Agrippa. You must tell your nanna all about him.” She suddenly realized that there was something not quite right. Of course the girls weren’t likely to burst out chattering but the silence seemed almost oppressive. Something was definitely not right. She looked at Marcia, meeting her granddaughter’s gaze and deciding that she would have to be the one telling her what had really merited the visit.

“I take it you are tired and starving from the journey are you not?” She nodded for a servant who would relay the message to the kitchens. “While we wait I want to have a word with Marcia.” She offered the other two a long stare. “We’ll be back soon won’t we dear? Oh and we shall all dine with your grandfather tonight. He will be so pleased to see the two of you." She smiled again, in a way which didn’t exactly speak of joy. “If you need to use the bath Marellus I’ll have one of the servants show the way.” She lowered her voice as she addressed him again. “And if you have any intention of fucking the slaves make sure you stay well clear of the blonde girl from Gaul, she’s my husband's favourite and he doesn’t take lightly to others using his things.” She turned back to Marcia. “Will you walk with me dear.”

They walked along one of the gravel paths until Lavinia was certain they were out of earshot from both Aurelilla, Marcellus or any prying slave. “Now my dear what is really going on? Is there something the matter with your mother? I daresay she’s a bit fragile that one. And what was your father thinking, promising your sister to this Agrippa fellow? Is she pregnant, is that the reason?” Lavinia sat down on one of the marble benches and gestured for her granddaughter to sit down next to her. “And this business with your brother. How is Aurelia handling it?" She paused as she watched her granddaughter, the same emerald eyes as hers and Aurelia’s looking back at her. “I have been thinking my dear. There are a number of things I can teach you.” She nodded. “I can see that you are cut from a different cloth than your mother and father alike. Only fools think women are weak." She smiled coldly as she looked at Marcia again. "We are not, but we have to resort to different methods than the men. We don't make elaborate speeches oozing Greek rhetoric in the senate, or face our enemies on the battle field. But I know that you know this, a woman is facing as many, and as deadly enemies as ever a man. But she must use cunning. A purse of gold and there is a stab in the dark, a potion here to win someone's love, another for ending someone's life. We do what we have to to protect our loved ones, ne. I can see that you have the strength and the will to do so. Now you will talk and I shall listen, and when you are finished we shall see what we shall do to set things right.”

 

[Britwitch]

Aurelilla Nervonis

“… I think Aurelilla would even be quite safe with you alone. You do love her, do you not? She is your sister. No one would hurt someone they loved, would they? I know I never would.”
A frown creased Aurelilla’s brow for a moment, unsure of why her sister would say such things but Marcellus did not appear to see anything amiss in her words and continued to talk about his family home.
"Nor I, truly…My mother's house is a little further on. You turn off the highway just before you reach the Via Capua. The house is on the hill overlooking the bay."

Marcellus’ movement towards them almost made her jump. His large frame seeming to fill the inside of the carriage as he crossed the floor and sat between the two sisters.
"I just know that we three are going have a wonderful time together…I am looking forward to getting to know both of you so much better."

Aurelilla swallowed nervously, trembling anew as he leant closer, grasping her chin gently but firmly and pressing his lips to her temple. She could feel the warmth and solidity of his body beside hers, his thigh alongside her own and while they had embraced like any other brother and sister might, their bodies having made innocent contact before, this…felt different somehow. Perhaps it was his words, or his tone, or the look in his eyes as he’d leant towards her but it made her cheeks flush brightly and caused her to turn her face shyly away, averting her eyes once more to the myriad of cushions beneath them where they stayeed.

Soon enough they arrived at their Grandmother’s home, and were welcomed in the fashion they had come to expect. Happiness tempered with something akin to disappointment, at least in Aurelilla’s case.
“There you are my doves. Look at you all grown up…Now you will tell me everything about your upcoming marriages. I’m particularly pleased to hear about you and Marcus Scribonius Marcia…And this young man of yours, Agrippa. You must tell your nanna all about him.”
Aurelilla merely smiled back at her Grandmother. Her extremely limited knowledge of her fiancé or of how her nuptials would proceed meant she couldn’t have responded with more than that, even if she had wished to.

“I take it you are tired and starving from the journey are you not?...While we wait I want to have a word with Marcia… We’ll be back soon won’t we dear?”
Aurelilla’s gaze suddenly snapped up, her gaze flitting nervously between her sister and her Grandmother like a butterfly unsure of which blossom to settle upon. If they were going to talk in private that would mean she would be left alone…with Marcellus. All of a sudden she could feel the warmth of his brief kiss upon her brow once more and felt the same uncontrollable shiver beginning to dance teasingly up her spine.

“…Oh and we shall all dine with your grandfather tonight. He will be so pleased to see the two of you…"
As her Grandmother continued, Aurelilla had already begun to move away from the little group. Hoping to seclude herself in a quiet corner of the garden, out of sight, while Marcellus took up the offer of bathing.
Suddenly her Grandmother and sister had left them and Aurelilla began to walk through the tranquil garden. It seemed all the servants had left them, as brother and sister they needed no chaperone and all had no doubt been given strict instructions and a mountain of chores by their mistress.

Aurelilla offered Marcellus a smile as she moved away from him among the carefully tended trees, leaves hanging down in delicate curtains all around them. She heard him following her, felt her skin prickle as she almost sensed the heat of his gaze upon her. She reached a tree near the centre of the garden, running her fingers idly over its bark as she fought to think of something to say, anything to break the silence between them but without letting her swirling emotions and thoughts escape from her lips.
She turned around to face him and jumped ever so slightly to see he was already standing almost immediately behind her.

“My…my Grandmother is a formidable lady, do you not think, brother…?” She found herself tilting her chin upwards to meet his eyes, backing away ever so slightly to do so without craning her neck painfully, although a step or two and she felt the bark she had been stroking only a moment before pressing against her back. “I do not think her opinion of me has changed…” She added with a sigh. “I know she and mother had disagreements in the past and I fear I am too like my mother for my nanna’s liking…would be better if I were more like Marcia, in her eyes at least I think…” Aurelilla mused sadly, knowing that while her similarity to her mother somehow disappointed her Grandmother, it was not enough of a similarity to give her the bond she craved with her mother.

“And what of you, dear brother, do you think I could ever become like my sister…? Or rather, do you think, like everyone else, that I should…?” Aurelilla smiled a little, hoping he would have something to say to alleviate her melancholy but finding her stomach knotting as she once more felt the warmth of his closeness. “I would most dearly like to know your thoughts, if you would care to share them with me…for I truly know not what to do…whatever I do I am sure to please no one and let everyone down…please, dear brother, advise me, tell me what I should do…” Marcellus leant towards her, resting his forearm upon the tree trunk above her head. His large frame almost completely filling her vision as she looked up almost meekly into his face, pressing herself back subconsciously against the tree behind her.

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Gaius had served all his adult life as a soldier. This might have been common in states such as those ruled by the Eastern despots where their armies were composed of virtual slaves serving for life, or even Greek cities such as old Sparta, but in the enlightened republics of which Rome was the apex, it was not a normal development for a normal time. The arms of the Roman Republic should always have been militia, complements of citizen-soldiers training regularly during peacetime but called to fight only for six months, the duration of a fighting season. A citizen's duty to defend the Republic in exchange for the right to campaign and vote. At least, that was all how it was supposed to be in theory. Since the Marian reforms had transformed the army into a professional standing body, dependent upon the wages only a wealthy general could provide, and the subsequent (and rather related) outbreak of a number of slave revolts, uprisings, and wars both foreign and civil, it seemed that the Republic had been transformed into a state at perpetual arms. The Gallic War might have been the first 'true' war he had fought in, but Gaius was a veteran of numerous smaller-scale skirmishes - what citizen in the past generation could have afforded not to be, in a world where political affiliations were constantly shifting and political power was increasingly becoming commensurate with military might? And even when he had not been at war, abroad or in Italia, he had always been training at arms, like every citizen ought to. On this, he and the old Catonian purists were of one and the same mindset.

And contrary to public belief and what they said about war in the Homeric hymns, modern warfare as waged by the civilized, orderly, planned military of the Roman Republic consisted almost entirely - ninety nine one hundredths or more - of hurrying up and waiting, of sitting around or marching instead of fighting, of digging trenches and building palisades and planning, planning, planning. There was virtually no fighting at all. Just talking and planning, especially among the officer class of which Gaius was a part of. He had taken more than his share of such meetings while serving in the legions in Gallia.

Which was therefore why Gaius hesitated to call this meeting of the Senate entirely the most difficult thing he had sat through in his life. It might well turn out to be so, however. Those endless strategy sessions in the army weren't keeping him from going back home to Aurelia, at least not directly of course - if anything, they made him know that his return would be that much quicker. Now, however...Now, he not only was being kept from her, he was being kept from dealing with some important unfinished business with her.

"Therefore, I am proposing taking the war to the optimates in the south of the peninsula, specifically the regions of Campania, Apulia, Calabria, Lucania, Brutii, and Magna Graecia." Caesar was addressing the Senate now, having been given extraordinary powers to deal with the current 'constitutional crisis.' Ever the adept politician and diplomat, Caesar was avoiding antagonizing the remaining optimates or (much more importantly) neutrals by using overblown rhetoric or blatant displays of authority that could be construed as illegitimate. Gaius was no Cicero, of course, but he assumed that Caesar had broken more than a few laws - bringing his legions south of the Rubicon for one, and occupying Rome with soldiers under arms for another. That included avoiding proscriptions, overriding constitutional procedures, and even tolerating the remaining Pompeians sitting and debating in the Senate. Not that they were making much of a scene at the moment. Past memories of Sulla still fresh in many of their minds, they were still worried over keeping their heads, much less political positions, under the new dictator.

"To the pursuit of these ends, I am hereby authorizing the forming and restocking of the first, third, fifth, and sixth legions, to depart for Pompeian territory as soon as possible. And to lead these legions, which I will personally lead-" this brought some gasps of surprise from the audience; a dictator deciding to leave his newly-conquered city so soon? "-I am nominating Gaius Pansa, Lucius Antonius, Decius Metellus, and Gaius Nerva to serve as legati in defense of the Republic."

"What?!" Gaius' head turned up, snapping him out of his melancholy reverie. The curule magistrates at the head of the Senate were agreeing, and several of his friends nearby were giving him pats on the back and appreciative stares. Caesar himself, from the head of the Senate, was eying him critically. Gaius smiled back, thinly but it was there. He knew that there was no way out of this now. He couldn't very well vote against this, much less refuse service, to Caesar without dealing him a critical blow to his dignitas, dignitas that he needed more now than any time else. Not without destroying the connections he had made to Caesar the night before, giving Aurelilla over to Caesar's protege Agrippa. Giving his little girl away, in a manner entirely appropriate but also, he knew in his heart of hearts, in a way that had hurt her far more than any act of physical violence had. The duty of a paterfamilias was to defend and protect his family. How had what he had just done conflated with his time-honored duties?

There was more discussion in the Senate, the Pompeians finally being urged into action and dissent by the prospect of voting to fund and raise armies to carry on against their compatriots, but as all of the remaining optimate tribunes had somehow failed to appear to the Senate meeting, there was no way they could block the measure, and when put to a vote, it passed by a wide margin - with Gaius voting for it as well.

Just one more thing he would have to bring to Aurelia's attention when he returned home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *​

When he finally did manage to return home - the meeting with the Senate had dragged on much, much longer, of course, with matters dealing with everything from aqueducts to debates over religious matters, although he had thankfully avoided getting entangled in any social visits or congratulatory stops to the nearby taverns afterwards - Gaius was treated to the sight of Aurelia before him, smiling shyly, somehow looking more beautiful than she ever had before in her life. Except for her jaw.

"I was thinking of you all day, my dove." He stepped up to her, and suddenly very mindful of the childrens' absence, gave her a slow, lingering kiss to demonstrate just how much she had been in his mind. The kiss became more heated, their hands exploring each others' bodies, and Gaius finally pulled away, smiling. "Dinner first, I think. After a day listening to those wind-bags in the Senate, I'll need to build up my strength for...anything else that may occur."

Taking advantage of their offspring being away, they took their seats on the same couch in the triclinium, beginning side by side but ending with her sitting in his lap, feeding each other food with their hands. After several minutes, he took her chin in his hand, tilting it to one side so he could examine the bruise. Gaius frowned.

"It looks...Better," he offered, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She shook her chin from his grasp and moved her lips toward his, obvious wishing to once more paper over their differences with an offer of her body. Gaius kissed her back for a moment, then pulled away once again.

"'Lia, before that, we need to talk. Seriously talk. First things first - I might as well get this done with now." He took a deep breath. "I may be away for a bit..."

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

Despite the rigours of the journey, from the moment they arrived at the Villa Aurelia Marcellus sensed danger. Danger in the cool efficiency of Lavinia Aurelia’s welcome; danger in Marcia’s close almost conspiratorial bond with her Grandmother. There was danger too in the soft eyes of Aurelilla - now that the two of them were alone.

What had begun as a carefree country jaunt was becoming yet another simmering cauldron of intrigue. What was it with this family?! Ruefully Marcellus had to admit that he was at least partly to blame. He had underestimated Grandma – helpless, harmless crone she was certainly not! Also his cynical baiting of Marcia in the wagon had been ill-advised serving only to fan the flames that burned deep in her unfathomable depths; flames that he had glimpsed in her eyes as Lavinia Aurelia drew her aside.

But all such musings had to wait. Aurelilla was speaking to him and gazing up at him with an intensity that surpassed all words.

“My…my Grandmother is a formidable lady, do you not think, brother…?”
He made no reply and so she continued: “I do not think her opinion of me has changed… “I know she and mother had disagreements in the past and I fear I am too like my mother for my nanna’s liking…would be better if I were more like Marcia, in her eyes at least I think…”

Marcellus felt a hot rush of anger prickling up his spine. Truly, this poor girl had no regard for herself at all. She viewed herself through the eyes of those around her and from such a jaundiced and distorted perspective she would ever appear wanting. Marcellus was not easy man, but family had always been important to him – you looked after your own! His family, like his army comrades, had never let him down. He struggled to comprehend how Aurelilla’s nearest and dearest could have let her down so completely.

Damned aristocrats! The girl’s shrew of a mother, scheming sister and now the harpy Lavinia; they were cast from the same mould these three - and it was one that Marcellus recognised through long and bitter association. As a boy he had been sent by his parents to be schooled in Rome. He shared his tutor with the sons of wealthy patrician families and it was here that he, unkempt country boy, first experienced the natural disdain of those born to rule. His classmates soon learned to be wary of his quick temper and flying fists and in time he even earned the grudging respect of most, but he was never accepted as an equal. Such cold and brutal discrimination he now realised could be applied equally to those among their own ranks who were found to be weak or in some way wanting. Yes, the Nervae women were three of a bloodless and bloodsucking kind. Not Gauis though, not he! He was a soldier and a man of honour. His only crime was his desire for a son.

“And what of you, dear brother, do you think I could ever become like my sister…? Or rather, do you think, like everyone else, that I should…?” She smiled at him, seeking his approval now with the same pitiful desperation. “...please, dear brother, advise me, tell me what I should do…”

Marcellus leant towards her, resting his forearm upon the tree above her head as she shrank against the trunk beneath. Part of him yearned to ravish her; to silence her mouth with bruising kisses; to tear her clothes and answer her plaintive pleas with the simple, solid surety of his body. It would be so simple to lift her up, part her and impale her upon his rigid, aching flesh, spearing her to the tree, ramming her soft buttocks into the coarse bark, driving all but the most basic of senses from her tormented mind. It would be a kindness, a service. The girl wanted it, craved from him the catharsis that he alone could bring...

As these thoughts arose so the Tribune’s blood surged and his manhood awoke, questing like a hound beneath his chiton. He seized her shoulders, feeling her body tense for the onslaught; the first impact of battle-hardened muscle upon dainty, pampered curves. But something gave him pause and, much to his own astonishment, Marcellus found himself reining in his desire.

“Be yourself, girl!” he urged. “For Mars’ sake stop trying to be what others want. You can never succeed but will only find yourself falling further in their eyes. You are not your sister... or your mother for that matter. And nor should you try to be! We are who the Gods make us, for good or for ill. The fates know, all of us have at some time wished that things may be other than the way they are...”

He swallowed before continuing in a softer tone. “Listen girl, your mother’s and your sister’s love will never be yours. Don’t ask me why, that’s just the way of things sometimes, but believe me crueller fates than this are dealt and endured daily upon this world. You are young and wealthy - and you are beautiful. Your father is no fool, Aurelilla and he loves you. You are betrothed now to a...” Marcellus broke away. He found he could not speak of her recent engagement. When he turned back he found her still gazing at him with those limpid, soul-seeking eyes.

“I told you before that I... I am your friend. It is true, I swear it!” He leaned over her, taking her arms and pinning her once more against the tree. “Know that you can always count upon my help, whatever difficulties you face. But first you must learn to use your head and help yourself!”

Once again as it had earlier that day, her scent filled his nostrils and, deeply, Marcellus breathed her in. Desire returned. A rush of a thousand honey-venomed needles puncturing his skin and setting his blood afire. Her hand was upon his. Only a handspan separated their trembling mouths.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

Aurelia gracefully got up from the chair where she had been sitting as Gaius walked into the room. She must have done so a thousand times before, but somehow she felt more nervous now than she had ever done before. She had spent the afternoon overseeing the preparations for supper, the first one they had shared only in the company of each other for Gods knew how long, thus every little detail had to be perfect. She had been hovering like a vengeful spirit in the kitchens as Grumio had gone about his business, causing the old servant to behave like his life was dependent on pleasing the whims of the Domina. Aurelia had made the list of dishes that were to be included, from the little sausage dumplings which she knew her husband liked, to the mandatory garum which accompanied every Roman meal.

She had received the message that he was coming, delivered by one of the nameless slaves, but even before that, Aurelia had made certain no detail was left to chance. She had bathed, changed her clothes and had Desma better her make-up. The tinclinum had been cleaned, causing more than one raised eyebrow among the servants, who had never seen their mistress behaving like this for a very long time.

It was the truth, more or less. Throughout married life Aurelia had struggled to become the perfect Matron, with all that it entailed. She had looked at the likes of Cornelia of the Gracchi or her namesake Aurelia of the Julii. Not that she would ever reach their levels, but they had set examples for Aurelia to try and emulate. She had been very young when she entered into marriage with Gaius Nerva, younger than most pureblood Patricians at least. The union had been one of convenience and expedience. The Aurelii Orestes needed the leverage that marriage into a Senatorial family could give them; the Marciae Nerva needed the money to fund the campaigns.

Such was the foundation of her marriage; not that she objected to it in any way. It was the Roman way of doing things, and no matter her own feelings, Aurelia was first and foremost a Roman. Tradition and custom had served to grant Rome the leading position in the world, and it was all came down to respecting and honouring the ways of the city. Anything else would have been unthinkable. The young Aurelia had never hoped for anything than becoming what tradition demanded, a dutiful Roman woman and wife. Romantic love had never been part of the equation. It was therefore a strange thing that her marriage had been one where the love of the Greek poets had become an integral part.

Perhaps it was part of the explanation why Aurelia placed so much importance with the evening meal. To her it was something infinitively larger than the mere intake of sustenance. The meals she had shared together with her husband had almost always been the prelude to something else, not merely the purely sexual pleasures but more importantly, the intimacy shared by herself and her husband. It had been too many years since last time they had been able to lay down to have supper together, and Aurelia had decided that it would be as perfect as it once had been.

When Gaius thus arrived all the expectations seemed to be fulfilled. From the way he kissed her when he entered the domus, to the way they reclined on the couch, Aurelia perched on his lap as she had done before the children were born. The entire setting was one which Aurelia could only describe as thoroughly happy; not even when her husband gently tilted her head to the side to examine the bruises he had inflicted on her face earlier could put a hamper on the mood. She inclined her head further to the side, her green eyes seeking his as her fingers intertwined with his. It was then he told her. That Caesar planned to take the war to the Optimates, that four legions would be mobilized and that Gaius would be the legate of one of them.

Aurelia felt her heart sink as she slowly let go of his fingers. It was not that she didn’t understand the necessities of the situation. Besides Gaius was a Vir Militari and he had spent the better part of their married life away on various campaigns. Thus it wasn’t fear for his safety that was her immediate concern, but rather the fact that he would be gone for yet another period of time. As oppose to the women which she revered as her role models, Aurelia found it almost unbearable to be separated from her husband. Not because of the loneliness, but rather the fact that his absence forced her to assume a role with which she could not reconcile herself. Becoming hard and distanced had been the a way to cope, but that as everything else came with a price. She had grown closer to Marcia because of the mask she had worn but at the same time her relation with Lilla had deteriorated. Hearing Gaius speak about going away further obliterated what small progress she thought she had made as far as her youngest was concerned.

Yet it was not for her to protest, a Roman wife and matron simply didn’t do such a thing. Instead she forced herself to smile in recognition of the honour; for it was without a doubt an honour which Caesar had bestowed on her husband, of defending the Roman Republic.

“I’m so very proud of you. Caesar surely favours your counsel, Gaius Marcius” She kissed his cheek, more chaste this time than she had done earlier that evening. “Now you can be certain that your name will never be forgotten. Will your son,” Aurelia felt herself wince inwardly as she referred to Marcellus as being that “be serving with you as well? And dear Marcus Scribonius?” Aurelia phrased herself as neutral as she could, not wanting Gaius to know just how much she wanted his son out of her house during his absence. Perhaps the war would bring out something good. If Marcellus got back to the familiar life of the legions then he would surely forget about Lilla, and by the time Gaius and he returned, then she would be safely married off to Agrippa.

She sat back as she appeared to pay attention to what Gaius was saying about whom he wanted to serve with him. Aurelia had heard the same story told a hundred times before, about this or that promising young noble who would get his first chance to serve the Republic as a tribune in one of the city’s legions. Usually she would listen attentively, offering encouragement for her husband to tell her more, it was not out of a genuine interest, but all to do with forging some kind of intimacy between the two. She had vowed to learn as much as possible about his world when she was married to him; to become the confidant that the ideal Roman wife and matron ought to be. In the past she had been able to contribute, divulging some detail of this or that candidate for a position with her husband’s staff, often to the amusement of Gaius’.

But tonight would prove different and instead of the insightful comment she would usually be able to offer him she sat in silence. Like most men, no matter how sensitive they might be, Gaius didn’t immediately notice why she kept silent. It was not the best strategy to employ, Aurelia knew that perfectly well. Her silence would only cause him to want to find the reason why she had withdrawn to silence yet again. She felt the same wordless question being asked as he gently turned her face to meet his gaze and she knew that it would end up the way that it always did, she would lie and tell him that she was having a headache, and he would pretend that he had believed her. The same pattern had been repeated too many times since Lilla’s birth.

“I’m sorry.” Aurelia began to voice the excuse but before she could continue Gaius put his finger across her lips, silencing her before she had time to speak. Thus she found herself being held, gently so but with an unmistakable firmness. He looked at her, in a way which Aurelia felt he hadn’t done in a very long time and after some time he spoke; telling her that it could no longer continue like this,

Aurelia felt herself grow cold as the sentence was uttered. It had been a fear of hers ever since the delivery had rendered her barren, a fear that he would divorce her. It would have been the prudent thing to do, and had Gaius’ father been alive, then that would probably have been the outcome. Lucius Nerva had even suggested that Gaius marry one of the countless Caecilia Metellas after Marcia was born. The argument had been that the Ceacilas were more likely to produce sons. Yet he didn’t speak about that, but seemed rather to be reminiscing. He recounted the way that they had spent some nights when they were young, wrapped in blankets to ward of the January cold of the atrium while looking at the sky. Aurelia too remembered it vividly, how her husband had retold her the stories of the constellations of stars. Before she could voice a protest, Gaius had summoned two servants, ordering braziers to be lit and blankets brought out to the couches.

Thus Aurelia found herself laying close to her husband on of the couches, both of them wrapped up in blankets and their eyes on the stars above. She inhaled the crisp night air as Giaus seemed to chose which story to retell. Much as she would have loved to hear it, there were more pressing matters that needed to be dealt with and she turned to face him.

“I was never good with words, you know this.” She felt her cheeks burn as she acknowledged this lack, a part of her just wanted to withdraw, to turn back into the familiar silence, but she knew that what had taken place was, and felt like, a last desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them. “I want you to be happy, and I know that when Marcellus joined your family he brought you something I could never do. Yet I hate him Gaius, not because what he has done but because he is a constant reminder of how I failed you.” She bit her lip, not sure how to continue but at the same time knowing that she had to open her heart completely. “Therefore I have a favour to ask you, I know that you don’t have any obligation to accede to it but if something should happed during the campaign, I would like you to speak to Marcus Scribonius, making sure that he becomes Lilla’s guardian. It’s only natural is it not, he will Marcia’s husband very soon.” She sighed as she contemplated the upcoming marriage of her daughter’s. It was one of the things which brought her genuine contentment. “As for the rest.” She turned to face him again. “I know you don’t approve of it but I have made my choice, and I did it a long time ago.” Her hand found his, and her slender fingers intertwined with his. “You will say that Juno was good enough for your mother and your sisters, and that is probably true.” Aurelia smiled bitterly. “But I cannot find it in me to revere her. Does it make me less Roman Gaius Marcius?” She gave his hand a squeeze as she continued. “I promise not to speak of it if it displeases you but nor will I pretend that I do not believe in her.” She lay quiet for a moment, waiting for what he was to say. When he finally did speak he surprised her, she had expected anger, but there was none.

There was a moment of silence as he finished, his hand now placed on her breast and his lips seeking hers. It had not been uncommon for them to lay with each other after an argument, but for the first time in a very long time, Aurelia felt that the act was one of joy rather than of consolation.

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Gaius frowned as Aurelia slowly let go of his fingers, giving him a soft, brief kiss on the cheek and offering words of praise that came off as stilted at the first argument of a lawyer who had just finished memorizing his Gnaeus Flavius. Especially when compared to how warm she had been before, how expressive and - comfortable, that was it. How comfortable their meal had been. Alone without any children, yes, that had been part of it; but there had been an undeniable pall over them since his return. His hitting her the previous night had only been the breaking point to a tension that had probably been building even before he had left for Gaul. He would have to be a fool - well, an even bigger fool than he undoubtedly was - not to see that, at least in retrospect. But this night together had been thankfully free of it. It had been like the old days of courtship and newly-wedded love between the two of them. Aurelia had obviously done her best to make it that way, with her ornate preparations that had obviously begun not soon after he had left for the Senate and the children had left to see their grandparents.

Gaius felt a twinge of guilt. She had gone through so much preparation to make this a perfect night, and they had been enjoying themselves so much, and he had just ruined it by telling her about Caesar's orders. She would have learned soon enough, that was obvious, and it was best to tell her before she could hear it being discussed in the forum or as gossip among her girlfriends...but had he absolutely had to have told her this evening? Couldn't he have just waited even until the morning, given them this night of happiness when she had obviously been so starved of the feeling lately? But no, apparently he could it. Gaius chided himself. Perhaps he did manage to be a greater fool than he gave himself credit for - and that was certainly not an achievement to be taken lightly.

As Aurelia asked about Marcellus - and Marcus as well, of course - and whether they would be joining him, Gaius had to bite his tongue to prevent a retort. Aurelia had voiced her reservations about Marcellus. He had admitted that he shared some of them - but had assured her that his choice had been made, and that despite what she thought, he both valued and loved her no less due to his need to adopt an heir. He had assumed that that would be the end of the matter. Her bringing him up repeatedly was beginning to grow the faintest bit irritated - especially when she tip-toed around the central issue with vague insinuations like that, acting as though he was too dull to understand the real current of her sentiments. Her complaining about him direct to his face without her Socratic allusions and Cicerian maneuvering would at least cut out the verbal subterfuge. But then the anger faded, replaced with the memory of how it had felt to strike her last night and the wave of guilt that had flowed over him at that. He wouldn't let his emotions get control of him again. Roman men were better than that, not Greeks or Egyptians to be ruled by their hearts. Aurelia was unhappy at him leaving her, and unhappy at Marcellus, and it would take time for her to get over both. He had just told her a few minutes ago.

"I have not given the matter any thought yet, to be perfectly honest," Gaius replied - being honest. "Caesar did not mentioned them, although I will extend them the offer to join me. It would be only fair to them. Marcellus especially could use some more military ventures to shore up his senate run." There, that should at least give her some hope of satisfaction at having him out of her hair while I'm gone he thought. Having given his wife a bit of what she obviously wanted to hear (even if it wasn't strictly true, it wasn't like it was a lie either), Gaius began to warm up when contemplating the others he might ask to join.

"It seems clear that Caesar will be expecting me to be a mentor to young Agrippa. No doubt he will be an integral part of my staff. As to the rest...well, there is still plenty of time to decide, but let's see. Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, I suppose; his family is thoroughly optimate, but he is married to Caesar's niece and served with him in Gaul and Germania for a time. A good boy, mind as sharp as any sword. Marcus Didius Falco, of course. And can't forget Miles Gloriosus, a braggart but very effect at being so..." For the first time, Gaius was entering a situation where he would be forming his own retinue of followers, creating his own base of clients - local freedmen or neighborhood wine dealers were one thing, but these clients would be men not unlike him, men of good family and senatorial rank with futures ahead of them. Clients that could help make a powerful figure in the political landscape of Rome. And he was himself the client of Caesar, the most powerful man in the city since Sulla. His own fortunes were looking up immeasurably. Put with the fact that Gaius naturally liked to plan and organize - it was a good trait for an executive magistrate to have - it took him some time to realize that Aurelia, far from showing her usual interest in her husband's life, had grown as silent as if she had been sculpted by Praxiteles. As coldly distant as one of his statues, as well.

Without needing to be asked out loud, Aurelia began what was obviously the prelude for her usual set of tearful apologies. Gaius set his jaw. No. He was not going to allow this. With his finger, he silenced her, bringing her into his arms. In that position, he could feel that she was anything but cold and distant. He could even feel her rapid heartbeat, her slight trembling against his own skin.

"Aurelia," he spoke finally, softly but as firm as his hold on her. "My love. This cannot go on like this, not any more." He hated this, this sense that they had to dance about one another like a Cretan bull-jumper, that the thought of him made his love cry, that he had lately felt as if he shared his marriage bed with a stranger. She tensed up once more, and Gaius stroked down her back with the palm of his hand. "Do you remember when we were young, barely out of courtship, still...still so madly in love that we would make Venus flush with shame? Do you remember what we would do then, at night?" He turned away from her, yelling out. "You there, you two. Mansa, get these braziers lit, and Bos, bring over some blankets. Hurry up, this is Rome, not Africa, we have more to do with our lives than to graze all day!"

The slaves did their duty fine once spurred properly (if Marcia were here he reflected wryly, I suspect that she would have chosen this moment to give them a real education in what happens when they dawdle around a Roman) and soon enough Gaius found himself lying comfortably under a thick woolen blanket, the stars crisp and bright overhead, Aurelia warm against him. She breathed in deeply, and Gaius smiled. "This is much better. Now let's see, which to choose...Cassiopeia? Perseus? Cepheus...?"

Gaius paused as he heard Aurelia begin to speak. He turned to look at her, her face an outline in the flickering light of the atrium's braziers. Now we'll finally hear what's really bothering her, he thought, confident that he knew Aurelia and her habits well enough to at least predict that much. And for once - a sign that it must be a propitious night - he was right. This time, he didn't feel any anger or frustration wash over him, and he listened silently until she was done, absorbing every nuance of her voice and behavior, his hands slowly rubbing her back as she spoke.

"We Romans have built an empire out of a village of mud huts," he finally answered, his fingers squeezing hers. "We did so by borrowing the art of the Greeks, the construction of the Etruscans, the ships of Carthage, the women of the Sabini. But our gods have always remained Roman, our culture has always remained Roman. We adapted those things to suit our needs; we did not adapt ourselves to suit them. Even the other Italian races we had to fight to prevent from overwhelming us. It hurts me that the gods of our city have failed you. But your mind is your own, and," sighing at this, before kissing her on her forehead, "I have long given up trying to change you in the regard. As for your other wish..."

Gaius was quiet for a moment, mulling over his own failures and inadequacies. "I will make it so. I shall speak to Marcus about it, and have Solon write up a binding statement to that effect for my will." He was quiet for a few more seconds. "And...I am sorry for leaving you again. I wish that I did not have to. I wish I never had to leave you again, that you were fertile, that you were happy. Those at least are impossible things that are in the hands of the gods, whatever gods there may be. But not leaving you, I at least have within my power to do. But my duty to the Republic and the state has to come first. The city is the one god that no true Roman is capable of denying. I miss you already. I always do. And I wish I hadn't spoiled the night you spent so hard planning. I am sorry for that, as well. But," he added, as he moved closer to her, his hands moving down to feel her body.

"The night is not yet over." Their lips met, and Gaius kissed her, hard. A surge went through him - perhaps it was Eros, and perhaps it was the setting, but he felt like a youth again, conquering her body for the first time. He paused in his kiss long enough to breath out his hurried, sincere words:

"I love you, 'Relia, and I always will, no matter how far removed I am..."

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia

“The visit was my idea,” Marcia said turning her head slowly to the side with a bit of a sigh. “They are like animals in the stable I call my home. Mother’s face is marred like a common whore from the heavy hand of my father. Dear sister was auctioned off like cattle to a man of common blood, because Caesar see to force the unnatural. The adoption is the worst of affronts. It shows all of Roman how my mother failed to conceive a male. The brother, oh and the brother my ass of a father chose! He is an ignorant brute that grabs at my crotch like a drunk even in the sober hours of the morning. Just now, he did it in the cart on the way over to you. He’d rape the whole house if given the opportunity. He’s a squealing filthy hog-beast. He shall take all that is rightfully mine. Not before that, he will destroy the family name. I come to you with arms out and ready. I want to share with you my thoughts. Please do not condemn me. What I do I do for all of us.”

Marcia straightened her neck and touched it lightly with her hand. The muscles knotted with tension. Grandmother would be the one to perfect the loose plot that has grown thick in her head. Her emerald eyes blinked twice with a kiss of tears. She would risk losing her love, but no one else was more like her. If grandmother would not help, then Marcia must be wrong in her designs. She knew it was not something she could do alone. Her grandmother’s power and money could save her if grave matters were to arise. A public execution would be so humiliating.

Dipping into the folds of material around her legs, Marcia pulled out a carved dagger. Sharp as a razor, the upward curve of the silver blade and the two jewels in the handle showed it was a ritual slaughter knife. Priest use the weapon to slice the neck and drain the bodies of animals. It was part of a blessing ceremony for clean meat. It glittered in Marcia’s palm. Afraid to look up at her grandmother, she made her confession.

“Aurelilla loves Marcellus. Marcellus loves Aurelilla. I brought them here to be alone and let nature take its course. The only way for them to be together is to run away. I shall help them do this. Her children will still be of full noble blood then. She will be happy in love in another part of the land. As for Marcellus, he will be hated for marrying his sister and killing his father. I will journey the night they elope to my father’s house. I need you to draw out mother and keep her away. I will seduce my father and then slaughter him like the animal he is. It is the only way I can get that close to his neck for the death blow. I see you wince as I do at the thought! What else is a woman to do? The land will come to me and my new husband as inheritance before the week is out. I do believe you have always been quite fond of a certain section of father’s land. I think it would be the appropriate gift in public forum to show the new harmony of our united family as we recover from the tragedy. The old and the new politics coming together as one and represented by my husband. I think his position would be of use to you, would it not? Do you think I am mad? Do you still love me? The things I do, I do for all of us. Please forgive me for my bluntness. I am not ignorant enough to think you would be easily deceived or manipulated into anything. So, I come to you in honesty and beg you hand for help. You are the only one I trust.”

The blade came to rest between the two women as Marcia had spoke of killing her father. Her soft white hands reached out to embrace her grandmother’s folding over them. Marcia slipped to her knees at her grandmother's feet. She lowered her head and buried her face in the folds of gown around her grandmother’s knees. It was the longest silence she had ever known. Her arms trembled in fear of rejection.

 

[Britwitch]

Aurelilla Nervonis

Aurelilla gasped as she felt his hands grip her shoulders, an unidentifiable emotion rushing through her, starting somewhere deep inside, something almost like excitement but worrying all the same. Her breath caught in her throat as she held his glittering eyes.
“Be yourself, girl!...For Mars’ sake stop trying to be what others want. You can never succeed but will only find yourself falling further in their eyes. You are not your sister... or your mother for that matter. And nor should you try to be! We are who the Gods make us, for good or for ill. The fates know, all of us have at some time wished that things may be other than the way they are...”
Aurelilla was a little taken aback by the passion in his voice but was not afraid, despite his towering position over her.

“Listen girl, your mother’s and your sister’s love will never be yours. Don’t ask me why, that’s just the way of things sometimes, but believe me crueller fates than this are dealt and endured daily upon this world. You are young and wealthy - and you are beautiful. Your father is no fool, Aurelilla and he loves you. You are betrothed now to a…”
They both looked away at that. Marcellus turning slightly as Aurelilla’s eyes fell to the ground. She glanced up after a pause, her hand reaching out to him instinctively but within a fleeting moment his hands were upon her arms, pressing her back against the tree.
“I told you before that I... I am your friend. It is true, I swear it!...Know that you can always count upon my help, whatever difficulties you face. But first you must learn to use your head and help yourself!”

There was a pause, Aurelilla was suddenly aware of nothing in the world except the feel of his hands upon her skin and the closeness of his body to hers.
“I…I will try, dearest brother... Aurelilla insisted gently, lifting one of her hands to rest upon his. “I think, perhaps, you are right…I have been listening to the thoughts of others for too long and ignoring those of my own. The thoughts of my own mind, the desires forged within my own heart…”
It was as if a dam had been removed, words began pouring out of her mouth like waters over a fall. Obeying some unseen force, words forming without her conscious thought.

“I do not…I do not love Agrippa. How could I love him when I barely know him?” She added, almost as an afterthought. “I know that it is the way of the world for girls to marry the men their families think suitable but…but I never expected my father to wish me to marry a man whom he himself had only met once or twice and for reasons that benefit him rather…rather than me…” Hot tears began to roll silently down her cheeks as the realisation of what her father’s motives must have been behind the marriage arrangement. Foolish as the thoughts might have been in reality, she had always believed her father had regarded her with a generous, loving eye and that when considering her future he would place her future contentment alongside matters of wealth and connection. Apparently this could not have been further from the truth.

An odd new feeling began to rise up inside Aurelilla as she thought more and more of her situation. It rose sharply, prickling her throat and speeding up her heart rate. Her brow creased slightly in a frown as she struggled to assign a name to this new sensation. Unaware, she moved closer still to Marcellus, her breathing quickening as she did so.
“You are…I am sure, you are right, dearest Marcellus…” Aurelilla began, her voice holding a fresh new tone. A stronger tone.
“I have been trying for far too long to live my life as others would have me be…to live as they would. A task I fear it would take a lifetime to achieve and one that is beyond anyone’s reach…”

Her fingers were trembling, as indeed was the rest of her, as she filled the ever shrinking void between their bodies, the new feeling flooding her body and pulsing through her veins.
She knew its name now and was beginning to understand it’s purpose and power. Anger. Red, hot anger, coursing through her young body for the first time and igniting flames within her that had lain dormant, waiting for the right moment, for this moment.

“To live in such a way is not living at all…merely a poor imitation and if…if my family loves me as a family should then should they not wish above all else for me to be happy…? At this moment I can think of only one thing…one thing that would make me happy, Marcellus…”
Aurelilla looked up once more into Marcellus’ face before allowing herself to do what she had only ever dreamt in her darkest and most secret of dreams.

Aurelilla kissed Marcellus, just to the side of his mouth, the corner of her mouth brushing the corner of his. She pulled back, ever so slightly as she hesitated for an instant, just far enough to glance into his eyes one last time before moving closer and tentatively pressing her lips against his.

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

Marcellus crushed Aurelilla to him with a force that drove out all breath, all reason. The previous moment they had been separate entities with a whole world – a wilderness of unspoken words and guarded glances - between them. Then they were one; straining, gasping, grunting like animals as they sought to drive their bodies ever closer together.

Marcellus’ vision swam. Just for a fleeting moment Gaius’ face appeared, his polished patrician smile turning to a grimace of horror. But then the spectre vanished - overwhelmed like a reed before the irresistible torrent of the Tribune’s emotions.

Aurelilla, breaking free for a breathless instant, shied away from him and turned herself toward the protection of the tree. Blushing to the roots of her sweat-damp hair she raised her hands to her face but Marcellus caught both her wrists in a vice-like grip. Lifting them above her head he all but hauled her from the ground as he buried his face in her hair. With his other hand he reached under his tunic and with a single motion tore away his simple undergarment. Freed from its constriction he drove his powerfully-muscled body against Aurelilla again, trapping her against the trunk. His hot breath was in her ear as he pressed himself urgently against her buttocks. Their clothing formed the scantest barrier now. He felt her abdomen rise as she arched her back, pushing back, grinding herself against him, seeking out that part of him that he felt must scald her yielding flesh like a brand.

Marcellus’ free hand roamed her ripe body, tugging, squeezing, forcing its way beneath her palla. He found her breast and kneaded it, moulding it like dough, making the nipple stand out red and swollen. He released her hands, turning her toward him now and tearing her robe aside exposing her bosom to his avid stare. With both hands he explored her, lowering his mouth to her, biting and suckling her - making her cry out. He lifted her up in his arms and moved in between her helpless thighs. He felt the questing tip of his manhood nudge hot, damp fabric beneath the folds of the dishevelled gown. With a curse he shredded the offending garment, exposing her before him. Now she would feel him! Marcellus growled deep in his throat as he grazed the white skin of her perfect bosom with his coarse, weather-beaten face. Now she will understand! If she were a slave or a low-born slut he would have spread her and speared her and used her- laughing at her screams. He would have left that tree hung with bloody shreds above a bruised, broken thing sobbing upon the ground... But he did not. Marcellus froze and held himself in check as some unaccountable feeling gave him pause.

He looked into the girl’s face, which was suspended just above his own. Her mouth was open, her lips moving wordlessly. Sweat beaded her and plastered her brazen hair in dark curls around her face. Watching her then was like awakening; like standing last watch on campaign and seeing colours emerge from the dim grey mist of a frontier dawn. He saw fear and pain, shame and anger but also excitement and an unbidden, unplumbed desire. In the depths of his passion Marcellus knew a strange and intoxicating calm.

“Lilla...” he groaned her name like a man surfacing from a great depth. “Alone of all of them, you have nothing to fear from me Lilla...”

For the first time in a long while the turmoil that churned within him – the endless, hateful noise that filled his waking hours was stilled. Her dark, mournful eyes lit upon his. The confusion he saw within drew him - as it had many times before during the brief time that they had known each other. Marcellus felt a softening inside; a warmth, a tenderness that he could not recall feeling before. For the first time he realised how they were truly two of a kind. Aurelilla was very much alone and so was he. Neither could function within the externally imposed and stifling boundaries of their lives.

Ever since his father’s death, Marcellus had been alone. His mother had corralled herself in her grief and then occupied her time and her mind entirely with the affairs of the estate. Soon after, there were his own imposed absences from home - fighting the Republic’s endless litany of foes. The camaraderie of the army had been a boon at first but promotion brought increasing isolation as, by necessity, a distance opened between himself and the men in his command. It soon became clear to Marcellus that he would never quite fit in the officers’ mess either. He did not belong to the equestrian class and, despite their careful and often almost painful observance of the civilities, his sense of being different and somehow less than his peers deepened. Increasingly only the fury of battle provided release for him but - before long - the way in which he sought out and revelled in slaughter became yet another factor in the widening divide. Steadfastness in the face of death was the very pinnacle of courage to the Roman mind, but his comrades feared there was something bestial, savage and wholly un-roman about the dark shade of destruction that reared up among them whenever the corynx shrilled, the drums beat and the barbarian hordes clamoured at the palisade.

Yes, Marcellus could see how alike they were, he and the girl; more so than ever now that both their lives turned at their father’s whim. A benevolent and indulgent dictator Gaius might be, but dictator he was nonetheless and, Marcellus realised, they both resented him profoundly.

Aurelilla moaned, biting at her lips as she felt Marcellus throbbing at her entrance. She may yet be a virgin! The thought sobered him as he held her suspended. He steadied her. Shielding her body from the rough bark with his brawny arms he took her weight and allowed her to sink with agonizing slowness onto him. She came to rest then, prompted by her urgent whimpers and impatient writhing he began to move, rocking his hips slowly back and forth. “They won’t hurt you my dove, none shall hurt you...” Gently, hesitantly his lips sought hers.

 

[Britwitch]

Aurelilla Nervonis

For something she knew she simply shouldn’t be doing, it all felt so wonderfully right. Aurelilla gasped into Marcellus’ mouth as his kiss stole her breath from her. His lips and body crushing hers with a desire that was as worrying as it was intoxicating. She found her body responding of its own volition, her arms rising to wrap around his torso, her hips pressing forwards urgently, insistently against his.

For a moment it all grew too much, the thundering of her heart within her c hest, which itself was rising and falling sharply from their heated kisses, Aurelilla forced herself to draw back, to break the overwhelming connection that had begun to forge between them. She turned, to catch her breath, leaning towards the tree as she fought a wave of light headedness but almost instantaneously she felt Marcellus’ hands curl around her wrists and lift them, straightening her back and forcing her against the trunk before her.

Part of her knew she should cry out, beg Marcellus to stop, to reign in his passion and wishes but she knew her own mounting desire would not let her. Instead she whimpered, almost begging, arching her back and pressing her behind against the firm, solidity she felt pressing against her buttocks. Their position helped keep her sounds almost to a minimum, her throaty cry as one hand snaked beneath her clothing to capture her breast and begin to torment her aching nipple barely travelled beyond their writhing bodies.

Her eyes were wide and starry as he span her around to face him. Her bosom heaving as he effortlessly pulled her palla apart, nipples firm and desperate for his attentions which he swiftly bestowed, drawing fresh cries from her lips as his teeth and tongue laid claim to the small buds of flesh.
In another moment, Aurelilla was no longer touching the ground, her legs spread and wrapped around his waist, arms clinging desperately around his broad shoulders. As his hand moved efficiently between them to remove the final barrier between their bodies it seemed as if time itself slowed down.
For a long instant, they simply looked into each others eyes. Aurelilla could feel the hot, hard pressure of his sex against her own, she knew it should scare her, should shock her into acting, into stopping what was surely about to occur but it didn’t. It…it reassured her, almost comforted her. She wanted it. She needed it, need him, perhaps more than she had ever thought possible.

“Lilla... Alone of all of them, you have nothing to fear from me Lilla...”
“I…I know…I know…” She murmured desperately, although her insides trembled at his words and their possible meaning she spoke the truth. She felt nothing but safety within his strong embrace. ”I…I love you…” she whispered, her voice catching as their bodies once more began to move. Feeling his shaft parting her virgin sex and starting to sink into her warm, waiting depths. She winced as his size gently forced her body to submit, stretching her to take him. Tears sparkling in her eyes, tears of fear and joy mingling as she sank down lower onto him.

Eventually she came to rest , her breath shaky as they paused, her body adjusting to the new, wonderful sensation of feeling him inside her. Then her body’s instincts took over once more and her hips began to rock, ever so slightly, drawing him in and out a little at a time, her whimpers turning to sighs as tingling waves of the utmost pleasure started to ripple through her body.
“They won’t hurt you my dove, none shall hurt you...”

Aurelilla returned his now soft kisses as their bodies began to dance the age old dance of centuries past. It was as if the fear that this wonderful occurrence might be stopped had flown away from them, leaving them with only the desire to love one another and enjoy their coupling as lovers truly should, allowing them to slow their pace and truly experience what they were sharing.

It was everything she had hoped it would be and yet more than anything Aurelilla could ever have allowed herself to imagine. They rocking and writhing gradually began to pick up in pace, his movements growing deeper and more staccato, her back arching more and more to allow him to enter her as he wished while allowing her breast to brush his mouth time and again. Her fingers curled around his neck, her lips sought out his jawline, her teeth caught on his shoulder.

All too soon Marcellus’ body seemed to reach its climax, Aurelilla could only cling onto him as his hips thrashed between her thighs, claiming her as his in a way that no one else ever could. With a loud cry coming from both of their lips Marcellus drove as deeply inside her as he could and Aurelilla felt the red hot proof of his desire flooding her insides.

Trembling against one another they remained, still and silent, arms wrapped around each other, smothered by the silence that now surrounded them.
”I…I should go…we shouldn’t…” Aurelilla whispered as Marcellus lowered her to the ground, her legs shaking beneath her. She looked up into his eyes, eyes wide and starry, cheeks flushed. They both knew they shouldn’t linger, but neither seemed to want to be the first to walk away.
Biting her lip Aurelilla slowly moved around him, drawing her palla back across her still heaving chest. Smiling shyly she paused to lift his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. “I…I can’t quite believe it…I never…I never thought such happiness would come to me…” Kissing his palm once more Aurelilla turned and began to walk away.

She hadn’t gone more than a few paces before she turned and ran back to Marcellus, throwing herself around him and whispering fervently in his ear, “I am yours and yours alone, from now until forever, I…I love you…” Another kiss, this time to his lips, and then she was gone. Asking a servant to draw her a bath when she reached her chambers, all the time wearing the broadest of smiles upon her lips.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Lavinia Aurelia

Lavinia Aurelia listened intently as her granddaughter expounded on her plans in a surprisingly matter of fact tone. As opposed to her daughter, Lavinia had long learned how to conceal her emotions and she waited without interrupting until Marcia finished, the knife placed reverently beside them on the marble bench and the young woman’s head resting on her lap. Being guarded about her own sentiments had not robbed the older woman her ability to sense others’ such, and it was evident that her granddaughter was spurned by hatred for the man whom she perceived was the sole reason for her current misery. Lavinia ran her fingers through Marcia’s dark curls, as she considered her granddaughter’s words. She was not an overly religious woman, her instincts told her that the gods cared little for the trifles of mortals, yet the act of patricide would still cause a ripple among the celestials, and Marcia was too valuable, not only to her but to the future of the family to be allowed to meet the same fate as Electra. No, Lavinia would never allow that to happen to her, and thus she gently prompted her granddaughter to her feet and to take a seat next to her again.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would never allow anyone save yourself to govern your fate.” Lavinia permitted herself a small smile before she continued. “Let us first consider your sister. If you are certain about her feelings for Marcellus then perhaps she will make for a necessary sacrifice, ne? She’s perceived as fragile and not overly gifted intellectually and thus it might just be plausible that Marcellus turned and twisted her mind to do his bidding. Perhaps that will be mitigating enough to allow her to be returned to the family when all this is over. Yet it demands that Marcellus Flavius seeks to align himself with Pompey. Now the man brought into the family and whom your father bestowed every honour conceivable upon rewarded him by committing incest with his sister and aligning himself with his father’s enemies. The shock and outrage will be enough to condemn him even before a law is placed on the tablets my dear. As for ‘Lilla.” Lavinia sighed. “If Caesar is victorious then perhaps she can be rehabilitated, although I daresay that it will take a lot of money to allow her to re-enter society again. The Vestals and the Augurs need to be bribed into delivering the right auspices, but that’s a question to be addressed later.”

Lavinia took Marcia’s hand between hers as she continued. “As for your father. There is little doubt that you hate him. I shall not say anything about that. You know your own mind best, but perhaps you should, for a moment at least, try and see how it will affect Aurelia. Let us assume that he dies, either by your hand or by a tragic accident. I have understood that you and your husband will receive the majority if the inheritance. What will that land your mother? Do not misunderstand me, I’m certain that you will take care of her as a dutiful daughter should, yet she is of different making than yourself, which you’re probably aware of by now. While I consider her feelings for Gaius Marius owing too much to Greek poetry rather than Roman common sense it is undoubtedly a fact which you will have to take into account. If I’m to hazard a guess I’d say that she would be utterly destroyed by losing her husband and her daughter in such a fashion. If she doesn’t throw herself on his funeral pyre then she must remarry and it’s doubtful if that would serve your plans.” The last part of Lavinia’s words were spoken without any trace of emotions. “As far as I’ve understand it Mark Anthony have been making eyes at her and what says that he will not redouble his efforts should your father die. Now you know Anthony’s disregard for the proper and coupled with your mother’s tendency to let her emotions govern her.” Lavinia left the sentence unfinished as she stood up and readjusted the folds of her stola. “Now I shall make provisions, a talent of gold slipped into Marcus Cauno’s hand and a word of advice and then the first part of your plan will be set into motion. But before I do so I shall have a word with your sister. Seek me out before the evening meal and tell me what you have decided upon.”

***

She found her youngest granddaughter getting ready for a bath, being attended by her girl as she was disrobed of her stola and palla and the sudden interruption caused both Lilla and the girl to jump from surprise. “Leave us!” Lavinia dismissed the servant without looking at the creature, but trained her emerald stare on her granddaughter, which caused the younger woman to break into a crimson blush, which Lavinia dismissed as shyness of being confronted like this.

“There you are.” Lavinia made her voice softer as she sat down on one of the benches in the tepidarium, still fixing Lilla with an intent stare, noticing the silver cylinder hanging from her neck, recognising it as the sing of Isis. “Oh not you too. It’s not considered Roman you know and now that you’re getting married to a young man who, despite his own shortcomings is definitively Roman you should take care not to present too foreign an impression. Just a word of the wise my dear.” Lavinia noticed the almost imperceptible gleam in her granddaughter’s eye at the mention of Marcus Agrippa which confirmed Marcia’s words about where Lilla’s affections lay. “So do you love him then?” Her granddaughter looked at her, the blush still visible but there was something else there now, the ghost of defiance, that served to corroborate Marcia’s verdict. “You know that it’s forbidden but perhaps.” Lavinia stood up, moving very fast for a woman of her age and came to stand next to her granddaughter. “Perhaps there are other things moving which we cannot understand. Still you’d do well to ask yourself if you’re willing to throw away everything that you have for the uncertainties of what you might have. Your father could have you killed for it, not to mention that you will forever tainted by association but well, you know your own mind best.” Lavinia sighed as she stepped back from Lilla, giving the girl some berth before she spoke next. “Did you couple with him? If so you’d better speak with the Gaul woman in the kitchens, she’ll make you a herbal remedy, because my dear, a pregnant woman following an army is a nuisance to the fighting men. Because that’s what’s left for you to do, you and Marcellus must leave, and leave tonight at that. Go south to Pompey's army and pray that he's victorious because if he’s not then Marcellus will be on a cross on the Appian Way before long, and I would rather not have you try and cross the river without the proper rights and the coins for the ferryman.” Lavinia made to leave but turned as she was about to exit the tepidarium, “Perhaps you should seek out your sister before you talk to Marcellus.”

***

Lavinia summoned the steward of the house as soon as she reached her study. Giving the man a firm order to produce a talent’s worth of gold in different denominations. The accounts would mask the real reason since there was no need informing Titus Aurelius about what use the money should be used for. She then proceeded to arrange, by the assistance of one of the freedmen who were attached to the household that a wagon be arranged and placed on the southern gate of Ostia, thus giving the fugitives the means to slip away and do so in relative comfort. Now it rested with the Gods, or rather, with Marcia. Lavinia smiled at this as she made a note on a wax tablet. Things had been set into motion, yet not even Lavinia could foresee the consequences of the same.