4 comments/ 20402 views/ 5 favorites For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 01 By: JoiseyMadison The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been revamped. The idea of intrigue, betrayal and a power struggle is the still the same. However, changing from a Roman setting to a FANTASY setting allowed me to play more with the idea of pagan magic and other aspects that I found were limited in a historically accurate Roman setting. If you enjoyed the original, I am sure you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. As always, the names, places and events are fictitious and this is meant merely to be a source of entertainment, not an accurate depiction of history. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Any resemblance between the characters and any real life person is completely coincidental. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through the writing journal or you can send it directly. Please just remember to add something in the subject line so I know it's not Spam. This is a new style for me so constructive commentary and suggestions are always welcome. Enjoy! * The moon was full. It sat in the stormy sky like a bloated and watchful sentry, overlooking a city which would never be the same after this night. Life as all of Celaenia knew it would change. So had it been written in the stars, so would it be done. Portia, only daughter of Emperor Traianvis Hadrianvs Avgustus, looked out from the balcony over the crashing waves of the sea and rolling mountains in the distance. This year the spring storms had been unusually violent; night and day the crash of the sea had echoed throughout the city until no man or woman within could sleep, and even the hounds whimpered mournfully. As she stared into night, Portia wondered if the Fates could see through the mists. They were the weavers of humanity's destiny, but tonight she would make her own. She inhaled slowly as she stood at the balcony. Slender hands were as pale as the white silk that draped over her slender form and whispered in the wind. Luminous gray eyes watched the waves break along the shore in the far distance. Built on craggy cliffs and secured by the rolling mountains that bordered the country, Celeania was a city that had been built by blood and tears. Generations before her had died for these lands. Men had killed for it because the Empire was everything. She turned slightly to look over her shoulder, her gaze distant as she looked at the bed and the man she had once respected so much. When she was a child, he had been her world. For twenty three years, she had struggled for his approval and done everything in her power to make him see that she would be able to follow in his footsteps. She was her father's only child and his disappointment had burned in her heart all of her life. She fanned that flame tonight, forcing herself to recall only the pain of inadequacy and the lack of a parent's love. "For too long did I sit idly by and watched our people suffer for the mistakes that a mind feeble with age has made. For five years have I have ruled this empire under your heavy hand. I created a world that is both feared and respected. One day, Celaenia will be known as the most powerful civilization in the world and people will hail its great achievements. I did all this in your name instead of my own even as your mind and body weakened, and I never asked for anything in return and how is it that you choose to repay such loyalty and accomplishment?" The frail body on the bed offered no answer to the softly spoken words. Her father lay on the bed looking up silently at the ceiling. For months his condition had been deteriorating and he had lost all ability to speak only a few days before. He could feel pain when he was injured, but he could not cry out. All he could do to communicate with his daughter was to blink. It was pathetic. Portia looked away from him for a moment. All of the lands as far as her gaze could trace, belonged to her people. They had been won through bitter wars and there was too much at stake to allow sentimentality and guilt to play a part in her plans. She had waited twenty three years for this moment. All those years she had watched as her father mourned the fact that her mother had never given him a son. His daughter's beauty and intelligence were renowned, and yet never good enough for the one man whose approval she desired. It was an approval which had been elusive all of these years and yet she had tried to make him proud of her in every way that she could. She had kept trying even after the forgetful illness came upon him and his decisions which had once been respected for their fairness and foresight, began to reveal his level of intellectual deterioration. Portia had stepped in, to protect and guide the Empire in his stead. She had allowed no one to know how quickly her father's condition had worsened. Only she and his faithful servant, Cauis, were allowed to see him during those times when he could not remember even his own name. For the past five years, Portia had been the voice of the Emperor when he was silent, meeting with his counselors in order to decide the plans of action that would continue to build up Celaenia, and fulfill her fantasies of conquering the world. She had done all of this, to gain her father's favor. Instead he had done the unforgivable. "Were I a man, you would surely have given me lands and titles. Yet the gods have cursed me by confining me to this female form. You, in your feebleness, do not feel I am worthy of ruling our country without a strong male hand to guide my every step and smother the greatness that I alone am responsible for." She paused, moving slowly away from the balcony and over to the bed. The mattress sunk gently as it accepted her weight. Her father blinked up at her as she leaned over him, her touch almost gentle as she brushed his thinning hair back from his forehead. His skin was as cool and dry as a piece of papyrus, but his pulse sped up when her lips moved lightly across his forehead and drifted down to his ear. One hand rested on his chest, feeling his heart race. Her hair was the same raven black her father's had once been, and their gazes were identical shades of a clear luminous gray. She was lovely and feminine, but she was her father's child. Beneath that elegantly coiffed hair, she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and who was willing to do anything to achieve her desires. Anything. "You forced a husband on me, father. In less than a months time you would have watched me become shackled to a man I do not even know. How could you? I can rule Celaenia alone. You know that I am strong enough. I am intelligent enough. You educated me for years and yet now you would deny me what is mine." Her breath eased across his face and he blinked rapidly. "I do not know this man that you have chosen for me," she murmured. "He is nothing more than a name that I have grown to loathe more with every day that passes, and yet you expect me to trust him implicitly. You wish me to lay myself at his feet like a lovely rug to be admired and discarded when it suits him... No. I am sorry, Father. For the sake of Celaenia and its people, and for the protection of all that I consider sacred, I will not let you hand Celaenia over to an impostor. I will die first." She closed her eyes as her lips traced the curve of his ear. He smelled like sage and sickness. No one else could see it, because she had not allowed it, but her father was closer to his next life than he now was to this one. Time would have taken care of him eventually, but both she and Celaenia had run out of patience. "The Fates will forgive me for what I am about to do. You have suffered long enough, and so have we as your people. The gods will not free us from the path of destruction that you have put us on, so I must. Goodbye, Father." Her lips brushed chastely over his before she straightened. Her gaze moved to the door as it opened and her father's manservant, Caius, entered. He bowed low to her after he entered the room. Portia nodded and then stepped away from the bed and back out onto the balcony. She stared into the emptiness of the sea as her will was carried out behind her. She had defied the Fates but even she could not watch the death of a man who had been loved as much as he had been hated. Plush lips tightened into a line, and she felt a single tear slide down a cheek as fair as polished ivory. "No one will ever know of this," she murmured. "But I do it now for my country and will do it again and again if I must." Her knuckles ached from how tightly she clutched the balcony ledge, but pains of the body would heal with the simple passage of time. Other wounds went deeper and hurt far worse, but as long as Celaenia required her service, she would drive the knife deeper into her own heart. Portia tensed as strong hands came down on her shoulders. The hands that had smothered the life from her father touched her with gentleness and she smiled softly with the grief all falls from innocence brought. Those same hands had so often caressed her, making her body come to life. Caius had been her father's loyal servant for fifteen years, but now he was hers. He had taught her about the art of passion between a man and a woman. When she closed her eyes, she saw his face in her mind's eye, contorted with passion as he moved over her. She felt the heat of his breath over her skin as it flushed and strained beneath him, desiring more, rasping her name with a groan of pleasure, making her body sing as his strokes claimed her as his. Slowly, she turned in his arms. It was late. The storms had driven all to their beds earlier in the evening and no one would dare to come into the Emperor's private rooms. There would be no witnesses or prying eyes to see the obscenity that had been committed while the moon watched. Portia looked up at Caius, refusing to allow her gaze to drift past his body to the bed. "Is it done?" She made it a question, though she knew in her heart that the man on the bed would never again be a hindrance in her great plans for the future of Celaenia. She asked the question for reassurance - to hear the words from the lips of another so that the horror would become real, and her nightmare would give way to new dreams. He nodded as he drew her closer. She allowed her body to go pliant, leaning into his support. He enjoyed it when she was willing and submissive. In moments like these, she was only softness and femininity. "It is done, my lady." And the gods have turned their backs on me. I feel the shadows. "I am fearful, Caius," she murmured. "I feel as if the world is hovering at the edges and waiting to collapse in on me when I close my eyes. It is waiting for me to show weakness and to fall." "You shall never fall, Portia. I will always be there to catch you." His eyes met hers, his tone urgent. He was a handsome man with the fair features of the people of her country. If they had lived in a world different from this one, he would have made her his wife. She knew his heart was hers for the taking if she wished it, but to rule a country meant to live only for the country and never for one's self. Portia pressed into him, her breasts brushing against the front of his robes through the thin silk of her chemise. Those soft, full mounds flattened momentarily as she yielded to him. She could feel his desire rising even now, and she asked the gods for forgiveness as she let her eyes close and her head be tipped back by the hand he tangled in her thick hair. Caius's breath was a warm breeze across her trembling cheeks before his mouth covered hers. His lips were hot and demanding and laced with a faint note of the hysteria that resided deep within both of them. Portia allowed one hand to slide up his hard frame to rest on his shoulder as she clung. She could feel the enormity of her actions bearing down on her as if she was a slender blade of grass alone in a hurricane. Cauis was the storm and she let herself be swept away by his ardor as he walked her back into her father's room, and backed her up against the velvet wall coverings. Portia kept her eyes closed, willing herself to see nothing. She was a vessel of the Fates and of the gods. She had done it for Celaenia. She had done it for her people. It would be her hell and an empire's salvation. A soft moan escaped from between lips as she let her head tilt back when his lips traveled to her throat. He pressed her to the wall, lifting her body so that those long, slender limbs were wrapped around his hips as his mouth moved gently along her cheeks and down the long column of her throat. Portia shuddered within his arms, tilting her head back to guide his lips lower along bare shoulders that were the fantasy of many a man in Celaenia. Tonight it was his reality. Cauis loved her. He had killed the man he had loved like a father. To murder the Emperor had been to kill a part of himself. Yet he had done it for the sake of this woman who pledged her love to him Her happiness was his, and in her smile he found his reason for such treason. Between those silky thighs that pulled him closer, was where he found his vindication. Caius's hand was a scorching heat against her breast as he feathered the stiffening nipple between his fingers. Her hand moved over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. His groan of pleasure was muffled in the side of her throat as he obeyed and his other hand momentarily left her hip to move his robes aside. Portia felt the heat of velvet skin as his hand brushed against that secret channel, fanning her desire. His fingers moved up and down her slit, encouraging her moans as he circled the little nub that was the seat of her passion. Portia's head knocked gently against the wall as he pierced her with his fingers. Two stroked deep into that wet passage and her inner muscles bore down on him to welcome him in. She could feel the sensations increasing in intensity threatening an explosion from within as the Fates watched and waited for a moment to crash her world around her ears for her acts of sedition. She bit down on her tongue when his fingers stroked higher, curving to find a spot that forced her body over the shining edge of pleasure where, for one blessed moment, there was no pain and no guilt. His mouth closed over hers when she would have called out, and he tasted of wine and of treason. He drank in her cries and before the sweet spasms of her body ended, he thrust into her. There was a momentary feeling of almost overwhelming pressure and then he began to move. Her hand dug into his shoulders, nails threatening to break his skin when their pelvic bones ground together. Cauis offered a muffled groan and pushed deeper, refusing to allow her to free herself. They were both lost in a spiraling world of violent pleasure and desperate forgetfulness that swept through their veins like burning oil as his lips found her throat. All rational thought disappeared beneath a torrent of passion. They had committed an act that was unforgivable, and the evidence of their treachery still lay on the bed only a few feet from them. The old King's blank eyes stared upward, as if he could not bear to watch the last of his line, fall from grace. Portia gasped as Cauis's thrusts began to increase in tempo. Portia's face was flushed, her lashes dark on her cheeks like twin crescents. She could feel her desire pulsing deep, and it grew stronger with every beat of her heart. Cauis caught her mouth again, sucking her tongue into his mouth until Portia felt the pleasure expand like a balloon and explode within her. She milked his release from him only a moment later. His breathing was harsh in the silence of the room. Only the faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine and the whisper of the breeze coming in from the balcony reminded them of where they were. Portia looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, one hand curling gently behind his neck. She smiled as she leaned in to brush her mouth lightly over his before he released her. When her feet touched the floor, she inhaled deeply. When Cauis touched her arm, she forced a gentle smile as she returned the touch. "I am all right. The night has been long and it is not yet over. You must put the pillows back the way they were, and erase all suggestions of struggle, Caius." "Yes, my lady." He brushed a kiss over her knuckles and then moved away to hide the evidence of this night, though she still carried some of it in a sticky heat between her thighs. Silently, Portia walked towards the door. She opened it and then looked back at him once as he tried to right an urn that had been kicked over in the struggle. He had murdered her father for her sake. He had risked all for her. He lived for her. Now he would die for her. She screamed. She saw his expression falter in confusion when she stumbled backwards as if horrified by the sight of her father's limp form. One hand dangled bonelessly over the side of the bed as his once faithful servant stood over him with a pillow in his hands. "Guards!" Forgive me... Portia saw the understanding sweep over his face as he met her eyes. There was no judgment, only sadness before he dropped the pillow. She stumbled back a few more feet, and into the arms of the guards who ran into the room. Caius was captured and beat into whimpering submission at her feet, but he never spoke. Portia closed her eyes as he was dragged from the room. What had been done could not be undone. Her father had been a well-loved ruler, and his death would be grieved by the whole Empire. The flags would fly, and the city would mourn the passing of one great man. The one held responsible, would put to death for their satisfaction. There would be no trial and there would be no ruling by the High Council. The sentence would be immediate. Death. All for the sake of the Empire. - - - - - - Celaenia was mourning. Houses, both public and private, were draped with black linens. The marketplace was quiet, save for whispered chatter from the people who had so rarely been within more than a 100 feet of their king, and yet still felt his passing with the same resonance that those closest to him did. He had been a great man and the citizens waited with bated breath for what the Fates would bring them next. The alliances of Celaenia had been contacted and were coming to pay their respects. The funeral rights would go on for days, and the display that had been set up by the priests was surrounded with mounds of flowers and offerings of food and coin for Harob. Portia had had enough. She needed just a moment away from it all and so she sought solace at the Temple of Visandra, the goddess of wisdom. Sandaled feet padded softly against the marbled floor to the altar where she dropped to her knees. The black silk veil covering her face was removed silently to reveal eyes that were neither red nor swollen. Portia let the silk flutter to the floor as she pressed her palms together and lowered her head respectfully. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. This was a place of prayer and petition and yet what could she hope to gain from the gods that she had defied? Forgiveness for doing what was necessary? Assured passage into the afterlife? Hope that Celeania would rise stronger as a result of her sacrifice? For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 01 All of those had seemed obtainable just a few days earlier, but now she felt like a ball of yarn that had been unraveled and then rewound in the wrong direction. She was a woman who now had the world at her feet, and yet she felt empty. She had not been the one to administer the method of death, but she could still see her father's blood staining those lovely, slender hands that were softened and scented with jasmine and sandalwood. Her gaze moved throughout the quiet temple. The Virgin Priestesses had closed the doors to the public to allow her the moment of silent reflection that she had sought. They had shown compassion, but the emptiness felt oppressive and Portia forced herself to exhale to maintain her composure. She had done what was necessary. The gods would understand. They had to understand. It was their fault that she had been born a woman with the ambition of a man. They mocked her by naming her kind the weaker sex. "Portia, it is not good for the citizens of Celaenia to see you in such a state. You are their future, my lady. A future that weeps in ruins is not one that anyone will find reassuring." The deep voice echoed through the area, interrupting her thoughts. Portia turned, startled. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the tall, slender man standing in the doorway. As much as she resented his interruption, she knew that he was correct. A future Queen of Celaenia was the rock who would support her people. Tears and self-loathing were signs of her femininity and her weakness. "Forgive me. I did not hear you approaching, Excellency." "You were lost in your thoughts." "Yes. I was." She paused for a moment, rising slowly to her feet to turn and face him. Commodus had been a friend to her family for many years. He held the highest religious office in all of Celeania and yet he had never seemed to be burdened by the title. He held his position with dignity and his disapproval of her display of weakness forced her to hold her head high as she rolled the hem of her funeral robes into her hand. When she stood, she let them fall to whisper like her father's voice in her dreams. "Forgive me for forgetting myself, Excellency. As you can well imagine, this has not been an easy time for any of us." "I understand that, Portia, but a Queen does not have the luxury of grieving as others do. She must represent security in times of instability. The people need you more this day than they ever will." "I know, Excellency. I have tended to the necessary details. Surely I too am allowed one small moment. I am sure that the citizens of Celaenia could well understand that I am as human as they are and that I do feel pain when my heart has been torn from my chest." There was a long silence between them. Portia tensed as his eyes narrowed, but he finally offered a nod of understanding. He motioned for the Virgins to open the doors and allow the worshipers back into the temple, and then offered her Portia his hand. She hesitated for a moment, but then slipped her hand into his. His skin felt wizened and cool and she fought back a wave of revulsion as the memory of her father's body flashed through her mind. "Come my child. Let us speak in private." Portia nodded, then silently rearranged her veil. A hand lifted to cease the movement of her guards when they made motions to follow after her and the old priest. They obeyed without question although she saw the displeasure in their faces. Their Emperor had been murdered. His only child was Celaenia's future and their first duty was to their country. The lady Portia was now that future and so they obeyed and watched as she disappeared deeper into the temple to the Priest's private office. The priest moved effortlessly along the stone floor to a water basin perched on a small wooden table. He gestured for her to sit, a silvery brow arching when she remained standing. "I have known you since you were a little girl hanging onto the robes of your father, Portia. I have never seen you shed tears for anything. You might do better to remember that when you are, 'lamenting your grief'." Portia stiffened but no other remark was made as her hand reached out and fingers gently touched the carved lines of a statue. The long lines of the feminine form were perfection in marble, representing all that humanity, in its inevitable fallibility, could never aspire to. Her hand fell away as she looked back over her shoulder as the old man. He was watching her calmly. He was one of few who saw her for what she was; a woman of ambition and vision. A woman that a wise man would never trust. Portia lifted her head proudly, her shoulders remaining squared. She did not bend beneath the intensity of his gaze. He was a man who deserved respect, yet she made him come to her with the chalice that he held in one hand and offered to her. She took it with a gentle bow of her head and held it between her hands without tasting it. "Each person's grief is their own and they express it in the only ways they know how. I loved my father, Excellency." "Yes I am sure that you did. Your heart must have swelled with love for him when he sold you to Syantix as Marius's bride." Slender fingers tightened on the sides of the golden cup till her knuckles whitened. She swallowed, forcing down the rage that threatened to consume her. Would she ever be free from the mockery of men? Had she been born to her station only to experience the loss of what had never been intended for her? She forced a smile as she moved around to the other side of the table and settled into the chair she had rejected only moments earlier. "I am well aware of my father's last wish for me. Marius and his father are journeying here as we speak. They are joining us for the funeral services." Thin lips curved into a knowing smile as the old man nodded and took a sip from his own goblet. "Have you yet prayed to the gods to keep them where they are?" "I do not know what you mean." "Come now, Portia. I was there on the eve your father presented you to the court. I have watched you grow into a woman who possesses too many ambitions not to chafe beneath the restraints that are naturally imposed upon because of her sex." Portia's gaze cooled as she slowly set the chalice down on the table. Her posture was stiff. "Your tongue is very free, priest." "It compliments my mind which is very full, Portia. It grows heavy with the knowledge that weighs upon me." He paused, taking a sip from his wine. "Treachery within these very walls is a matter which men in my position cannot afford to take lightly." Portia's ears felt as if they were aflame, even while the breath was sucked from her lungs. The weavers of fate ahd once more changed their pattern, testing her strength. "Who have you told." "No one. Until this moment I had only suspicions." "I see. What is it that you wish?" "I want what every man wants, Portia. I wish power." "You have that now." "Yes, but I wish to keep it. I will be honest with you, Portia, if it is permitted." "I would not expect you to stop now." His lips creased gently. "You are a woman in a man's world, Portia, and you were not your father's first choice for the throne. Our enemies as well as our alliances know this as well. I do not wish to lose my position by supporting you if your success is not certain." Portia was silent. She met his eyes with intelligence brimming in those gray depths. She had known that there would be risks to the actions she had taken. No one who had ever achieved true greatness had done so without taking a chance. But the consequences to an ill decision in her negotiation with a man as powerful as Commodus could destroy all that she had sacrificed so much for. "There are always those factions who do not do well with change. There will always be those who will not believe in my ability to lead the country that I have loved since my birth. I was a member of my father's court during all of these long years. I know these politics, Commodus. They will pass. I will prove to the people that I can rule as Queen." "And what of your consort?" "Why do I need one? If I were a man, I would not be expected to marry. I could do as I please." "But you are not a man," he agreed. He settled more comfortably in his seat. "My dear girl, it is not I who is the enemy here. I knew of your father's illness. He confided in me once before he deteriorated too much. I also knew how little he had to do with the decisions made for this country during these last years." He paused. "Portia, your intelligence burns like a candle within your soul, but it alone will not make you a ruler. You are Queen by birthright but true power and respect will only be yours if you have the means to sustain it now that you have taken the steps to securing it." "I have supporters. Half of the High Council has already pledged their allegiance to me." "They give you your support because they believe you are going to marry Marius. Were you to announce that you intend to take the throne alone, that support would not be so vocal." She knew that he was right. The knowledge that someone else had seen a fault that she had not, burned within her. She didn't have the luxury of mistakes if she wished to bring her country to new heights of success. She took a sip of her wine and then set it down. "I understand. I ask for your council." He nodded. "You need to obtain the outright support of the troops we have within these walls. Your father was a soldier before he became the Emperor, as was his father before him. You do not have that ability at your disposal, but if you can gain their respect, no one will rise against you." "I have the support of the Captain of the Guard and of his men. He will follow me in any direction I choose and they will follow him in turn." "You are sure of this?" Portia's lips curved slowly, but she merely inclined her head in acknowledgement. The old man eyed her shrewdly for a moment, but said nothing. "That is a good beginning but we need more. The rest of our legions are out in the field. Most have many more years until their return so we must consolidate our power from within." His eyes met her gravely. "This is not a game, Portia. It is the beginning of one of many hurdles you will face." "I am not afraid, Commodus. The gods know that I am just in my cause and I will not fail my people. It is not my will, but theirs that has brought me to this moment." "The will of the gods is not the will of the people, Portia. They do not see what you or I see. All they know is their Emperor is dead, and a young woman scarcely past girlhood believes that she can take his place alone. You need the full support of the High Council and having a husband at your side will be the easiest way to gain it." "I do not know Marius of Syantix, Commodus." "I am not suggesting him, Portia." He paused when arched a brow in silent question. "Your betrothed is a stranger to this city and a factor we cannot safely account for. We cannot know whether he will follow your lead or try to take control of the city from you. We need a suitor who is more reliable." "Who do you suggest?" "Your cousin, my lady. Marcus Aurelius." Portia felt the breath leave her lungs. The son her father had always wanted, Marcus represented everything that she would never be in the eyes of her people. She was wise and beautiful, but he was a man. He was also a soldier who knew the art of warfare and could protect the people of Celeania. Portia had not seen him for many years, and yet his had been the name that her father so often asked for during those moments when he came out of his madness. Portia felt her delicate features tighten as she struggled to keep her rage at bay. "Marcus does not wish this fate. He is a soldier." "Your father would have given him the crown, Portia. You know this." "Of course I know it! He was my father's favorite since the death of his parents. He would have been given the crown years ago, but he shunned that gift. He does not deserve it now." The old priest looked down at her outburst, quiet for a few moments. "You speak from hurt pride, not from your head. Marcus Aurelius loved your father. He leads his men in his name to conquer more lands and titles for Celaenia. The people trust him as they trusted your father because he shows the qualities of leadership in the field. His conquests are made into songs for children. He is a man they can understand and love." "He does not have the stomach to do what is necessary to rule." "I agree. But that can work in our favor. If he wishes to spend more time doing his duty for Celaenia in the field instead of the throne, we have more time to strengthen your hold on the country. You will be the shining light of our people here and when you become a window, that light will shine even more brightly." Portia's eyes widened slowly. She started to speak but could not find the words. Commodus just watched her quietly as she slid to her feet. "You speak of murder?" "I speak of doing what is necessary to ensure victory. I will do whatever is necessary. Have you suddenly lost the stomach for it?" "No, but to kill Marcus will be to bring further suspicion down upon me and I will not have that." "Then do not kill him. Turn him to your side if you can. Having the heroic son of Celaenia at your side, supporting you, will strengthen your footing with the people. Seduce him if you must, but be cautious. Marcus is a man who commands respect because he is not a fool. He is a brilliant strategist. You can learn a great deal from him." Portia turned away from him, moving about the room with quiet restlessness. Her mind was spinning with thoughts and ideas as she paced. Her plans were slowly forming and solidifying in her mind. With the support of the military and the religious order, she had only to win over the High Council. They would side with whoever would ensure that their way of life would continue. Like Commodus, they did not want to lose their power base and would support whoever would keep that from happening. Portia intended to be that person. She paused by the window. "You have not yet told me what it is that you want in exchange for all of this wisdom, Commodus. Surely you have demands." "Merely requests." He smiled his approval when she did not turn. She had faltered earlier but she had quickly regained the poise that she needed to be a true Queen. He had watched her grow up unappreciated beneath her father's shadow, rather than utilized as the power she could be with the proper guidance and supports. "I wish a fair exchange for my support." "Agreed. Name your desire." Commodus inclined his silvery head slightly to one side. "I want to extend our reach over the tribes and people conquered by Rome. Those barbarian religions have no place in a civilized world." "That you will have. What else?" "The rest is of no concern now." He waved away her concern with one bony hand. "It can wait. They will be but trifles. She believed him no more than he trusted her. They both knew that, but she would not show her hand. A queen had to be poised at all times. Her decisions impacted not only her, but her country as well. They held gazes for a long moment, before she finally nodded. She returned to face him and dropped gracefully to one knee. She lifted his hand to her lips so that she could kiss his knuckles through the veil that once more obscured her features. "We shall talk further at another time. I have other matters to attend to now. I am sure you do as well. I shall see you at the ceremony." "I will be there, Empress," he smiled as she rose. She moved away but paused at the door when he called her name. She glanced back over her shoulder and he bowed slowly from the waist. When he straightened, he smiled. "Your father would be proud." Her lips tightened into a line but she said nothing as she slipped out. - - - - - - - - - "What news from Celaenia?" "Mournful tidings, General Aurelius. The King...He is dead." Marcus stiffened. Features that had been hardened and bronzed by a sun that shone as brightly over a soft grassy field as it did over the rotting bodies of his fallen comrades in arms, turned towards the messenger. Gray eyes slowly narrowed in disbelief beneath the heavy visor of his helmet. For a moment there was silence between the two men, as Marcus struggled to come to terms with the words that brought darkness with them, even when the sun was overhead. "What do you mean dead? My uncle was in good health when we last left Celaenia. It has been only three years since we were inside its walls. We have been journeying back during these past few months. Had he fallen so ill so quickly that this news did not reach me sooner?" "Forgive me, my General. The floods kept us from delivering news outside our country's borders." He paused for a moment. "But it was not illness that took the Emperor's spirit from this world to the next." "What do you say?" "It was treason, General Aurelius. His manservant, Caius, smothered the Emperor in his sleep." "Caius?" "Yes, General." "I cannot believe that. He was a loyal servant to my uncle for many years. Was he tried in the tribunal?" "No. His sentence was immediate. He was flayed till the skin peeled back from his bones, and his eyes and tongue were cut out and fed to the birds. He was left on a pike in the main square of the city, on the orders of the Empress. She wished for all to see that traitors and murders will not be tolerated." Marcus's eyes widened a moment in surprise "The Empress?" "Yes General. Your cousin. The lady..." "Portia," Marcus interrupted, sun-chapped lips curving into a smile which held no humor to warm it. He closed his eyes for a moment, conjuring up her memory in his mind. He had not seen his cousin for three years, yet he could envision her face as clearly as if she stood before him. "Yes, General Aurelius. The Empress was heartbroken. She has no other family save for you." "Yes, I am sure she was devastated," Marcus murmured. He straightened, looking out over the campground. He had seen too many battles and wept over the bodies of too many of his fallen comrades, not to view the world with a certain level of cynicism. That pessimism had never been in short supply regarding his cousin."You have done your job well. Come to my tent later this evening to receive your payment. For now, rest and enjoy food and drink with my men." "Thank you General Aurelius." Marcus nodded, and the man moved off quickly as soon as he was dismissed. Marcus watched him go as he removed his helmet. He kept it beneath one arm as he looked over the fields below him. For three long years, he had been on campaign with his men. They had all left their friends and their families to gain new lands for the Empire. The years had been hard, the scent of blood and death clinging to them all no matter how often they bathed in the river. Three years of warfare had strained all of their spirits, but they had been successful in their mission and now they were on their way home. They had entered the country's borders the evening before. All of the lands as far as the eye see belonged to Celaenia. The Celaenian legions had had done good work in these past three years, expanding the Empire's reach to lands that they had once considered unattainable. Under his command, his men had prospered and Marcus had hoped to present all of it to his Uncle upon his return to the city. That was no longer possible. He released a breath slowly, when he felt the approach of his second in command. "Are the men ready, Felix?' "Yes, General Aurelius. They are waiting for your orders." Even from here, where he could not see the high proud walls of the most powerful Empire in the civilized world, he could feel the approach of a far greater evil than he had ever faced upon a battlefield. The Empire that he had helped create was now being threatened. He could feel that truth in his heart. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 01 A mere servant had murdered the king and now with him dead, only his daughter stood in line to take over the throne. Marcus trusted Portia with this task no more than he have trusted a child. Celaenia was his country and he owed it allegiance. His loyalty by default belonged to Portia. These were dark days indeed. His cousin was a beautiful woman. Her skin was like silk, her eyes a luminous gray. She was a beauty, more fair than the Goddess of Love, her movements graceful and almost serpentine when she danced. Even at age twenty, when he had last seen her, she had been able to command men to their knees with just the promise of a smile. Her seeming innocence made men wish to protect her, but they would have been better off defending themselves. Portia needed no man to protect the interests that she would always look after herself. Marcus rubbed one hand over his face, feeling several days' worth of stubble and dirt sunk deep into his flesh. Yet for all of that physical filth, he still felt cleaner now than he would in his lady cousin's presence. The soils of the earth were ones that he understood. They were clean in their simplicity. There were no lies and false smiles to be wary of from the earth. While he was out here with the sky above him and the ground beneath, he was free. Those same freedoms were curtailed within the Empire's golden walls where the snakes truly lay. The loveliest of them would await his arrival with a smile in her voice and flowers in her hair. "Ready the men, Felix. Tomorrow we journey home..." For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 02 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been revamped. The idea of intrigue, betrayal and a power struggle is the still the same. However, changing to a fantasy setting allowed me to play more with the idea of pagan magic and other aspects that I found were limited in a historically accurate Roman setting. If you enjoyed the original, I am sure you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. As always, the names, places and events are fictitious and this is meant merely to be a source of entertainment, not an accurate depiction of history. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Any resemblance between the characters and any real life person is completely coincidental. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through the writing journal or you can send it directly. Please just remember to add something in the subject line so I know it's not Spam. This is a new style for me so constructive commentary and suggestions are always welcome. Enjoy! * After she had left the temple and finalized the last of the funeral arrangements, Portia returned to her bed chamber to ready herself for the evening's procession. She felt weary, like a shadow of herself that was stretched too much for comfort. The funeral proceedings would continue for several days and nights as was their tradition. The representatives of the cities that they were allied with would be arriving within a few days to pay homage to her father as well as solidify their unions with the new ruler. Games of politics would be masked by grief. Portia sighed as she sunk deeper into the marble tub that had been filled with hot water up to her chin. Fragrant steam wafted up from the water to flush her cheeks with color as she lay back with her eyes closed. Water was supposed to have healing properties and the public baths in Celaenia were a celebrated practice. But not even the warmth sluicing sensually over lean limbs was enough to soothe her troubled mind. There were long hours ahead of her, requiring her to wear her many masks when all she wanted was to undress, and lay in her bed of silk and satin where she could fall into the forgetfulness of dreams and know nothing more of lies and betrayals. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of her father and of Caius, staring at her with blank eyes and accusing faces. She heard their voices in her dreams and they haunted her steps. She refused to take anything to aid her with sleep. She had not yet reached such levels of desperation that she would willingly alter her state of mind. She needed her wits about her. Despite her show of bravado in front of Commodus in the temple, she knew perfectly well that she didn't have such luxuries. To strengthen her hold over the city she would have to maneuver carefully. Every part of this play had to be written with no thought of anything but perfection. She sighed heavily as she allowed her head to loll back against the edge of the tub. Commodus's words echoed over and over again in her mind. She knew that he had spoken the truth and yet she could not bring herself to completely accept it. She hated Marcus Aurelius. He represented everything that she was not. He did not have to work for respect or for power. Both were given freely to him and he was too much a fool to accept that gift. Her hand splashed gently in the water. He was a handsome man. He was also intelligent and he could be an asset at her side. Together they could make the country great, but she knew that he would never allow that to happen. The Fates had placed them in opposition one another by giving him everything she wanted. Her hands tightened on the edges of the tub till her knuckles turned white. "Gemella?" "I am here my lady." Portia nodded. She rose out of the water and quietly took the silk robe that the servant girl held out. The steam had flushed her cheeks, the heat rising from her skin. The silk was a cool contrast as she slid her arms through and belted it at the waist. "It is going to be a long evening, my lady. Is there anything special that you need?" "No thank you Gemella," Portia, responded softy. They had been going through similar routines most of her life. Gemella had been given to her as one of few useful gifts from her father. She had been 13 and Gemella barely seventeen. The Emperor had decided that she needed a lady-in-waiting to subdue her wild spirit and encourage a more docile femininity. Gemella had seen her through every milestone in her life and rarely had she seen her mistress cry. She did not mention the faint tracks still visible on her flushed cheeks, because Portia never liked to be reminded of her own weaknesses. Instead, she reached for the brush on the vanity table. "Sit down, my lady. I will pin your hair. There is tea on that tray. Melina brought it up for you." "Thank you." "There is no need to thank me, my lady. I live to please you." "Yes, you do, don't you?," Portia murmured. She watched Gemella's reflection in the mirror. "You are my only friend, Gemella. Do you know that?" "My lady?" "You are. I have no one else who can ever understand me the way that you do." She said it more to herself than to the older woman, as she stared into the mirror. The words were the truest ones she had ever spoken. The Weavers of Fate never gave anything without achieving something for themselves in return. She was getting her throne, but at what price? No one had ever died from loneliness, but suffering could go on for a very long time. "Do you ever feel that your life is not what it should be?" "I... I do not understand, my lady." "Of course you do. You were born to a life of servitude. Have you always accepted that?" "It is my lot in life, my lady." "Yes I am aware of that but have you not ever wished for more than was given to you?" Gemella looked confused. "No. I live happily with the knowledge that I am fulfilling that destiny." She paused, her expression concerned. "Have I displeased you in some way?" Portia shook her head, sighing. "No. I am just tired. Continue with what you were doing. Gemella nodded silently. Portia watched the girl as Gemella moved behind her to run the brush through her damp ebony strands with gentle grace. Her hands were nimble at brushing the thick strands till they gleamed, then oiling them and pinning them carefully into place. "You should rest some before the procession, my lady. Forgive my impudence, but your shoulders seem heavy with unease." Portia's lips quirked into a humourless smile. She felt the weight of the diadem sink into her skull as Gemella settled into those shining strands. "There is no rest to be found for me on this day, Gemella. I am to be married soon. Did you know that?" "Yes my lady. With permission, I would say that Marius of Syantix is said to be a good man. It will also make us friends of his country." "Yes. The politics of it all are indisputable," Portia agreed. She sighed. She felt older than her few years. "I do not love him, Gemella. I do not even know him." "That comes with time, my lady. There is not a man in the world who could not love you. You are a great woman. You will make a great queen." Portia met the eyes of the servant girl for a moment in the mirror. Gemella's gaze was clear and guileless. The eyes were said to be mirrors to the soul. Gemella's was pure. "You believe that?" "Of course. You have always given me a sense of comfort and purpose. I know that you will do the same for the people, just as your father did before you." She smiled. Portia began to say something, but was interrupted by the knock at the heavy wooden doors to her room. Portia tensed, brushing the girl away now that the moment of understanding had passed. "Answer that." "Of course, my lady." Portia rubbed at the faint circles beneath her own eyes as the young woman moved to get the door. She heard footsteps approaching, and turned to see one of her family's servants. He stood there uncertainly, as if unsure that being in the private quarters of the soon-to-be Empress was appropriate. "Your Highness?" "You may come in. I am decent. What is it, Alban?" "A messenger from Volta has arrived." Her eyes narrowed as she straightened. Volta was on the borders of her country. The only people who traveled out that far from the city were the Celaenian legions. "Send him in." The boy, no more than fifteen years of age and weary from his travels, entered the room. He stood there looking at Portia with wide eyes and only dropped his gaze when Alban cuffed him on the back of the head for his insolence and forced the boy to his knee. "Show respect, boy. This lady is the future of Celaenia. You will kneel in her presence." The boy bowed clumsily. "I mean no disrespect, my lady, I mean, Your Highness." "It's all right. Tell me what message you have for me." "I bring word that General Aurelius and his troops are returning to Celaenia." Portia stiffened. Her gaze shifted down to the messenger whose gaze was now lowered to the floor respectfully.She could only see the top of a dirty blonde head. "Marcus ..." The name rolled off her tongue with the displeasure of someone who's tasted something bitter. "How long till their return?" The boy noticeably hesitated in his response. His gaze remained fixed on the thin vein in her marble floor. "I'm afraid that I do not know, Your Highness. Perhaps 5 days from now. General Aurelius sent me from the border almost two weeks ago." "Very well. You may go now. Alban, see that he is rewarded for his efforts." Alban bowed and they left. Portia stood silently once Gemella had placed the last hairpin into her hair. She said not a word as Gemella helped her dress in her funeral robes and the girl wisely remained silent. "So Marcus is returning home at last. It's been a very long time since I have seen him." Gemella nodded as she stood to retrieve Portia's veils. "It is a shame that he was not here for my father's passing." "Yes, my lady. I am sure that he will mourn the news greatly. He loved your father." "Yes he did. We were raised as brother and sister when his parents were lost to the plagues. We were so close as children, but we lost that confidence in one another when he joined the legions." She paused. "We are the only family the other has now." "He is a good man, my lady. It is good that you can comfort one another in these dark times when so little can." "Mmm hmm.." Porrtia paused for a moment as she shrewd gaze swept over Gemella whose cheeks had suddenly flushed with the mention of Marcus's name. "He is a good man. I have never heard anyone speak against him. Even the women he bedded within these walls, speak of him highly." She allowed that to linger for her own amusement. Gemella's blush deepened. "You have affection for Marcus, don't you?" The woman shook her head, flushed to the roots of her fair hair. "No, my lady." "Do not lie to me, Gemella. I will not tolerate deception in my home. Speak plainly for it may be the only chance you are ever given. Do you desire my cousin?" Gemella dropped to her knees abruptly. She clasped one of Portia's hands in both of her own and lowered her forehead till it rested gently against her knuckles. "Forgive me for my defiance my lady. You know that I would never displease you in any way, but I cannot answer such things. Please do not make me." "Oh but you already have. The color in your cheeks does not lie even if your lips do." A hint of displeasure was allowed to creep into those dulcet tones as Portia pulled her hand from Gemella's. Everyone adored Marcus. The people viewed him as their champion. The legions considered him a man worth dying for. The Senate would heed his council. Even Commodus, would give his support to Marcus if he accepted the throne. She knew that in her heart and the knowledge burned. All would betray her without a thought if Marcus followed the path her father had always wanted for him. Portia stiffened. Despite all her achievements, she was not enough. She should marry Marius as her father had wanted and rule beneath his desire. No. She turned abruptly to face Gemella. "You shall welcome him upon his return." "I don't understand, my lady." "Oh but you do. You will dress yourself in your finest chemise and scent your body properly, then greet him in his chambers after the feast that we will hold in his honor. You shall be my gift to my dear cousin." She thought it a simple concept, yet it seemed lost upon the woman whose cheeks flushed as she looked down at her clenched hands. "What is there not to understand?" "I ...." "You what? You cannot? Dare you defy my word?" Gemella shook her bowed head. She remained on her knees though Portia knew the marble was as hard and unforgiving as her herself was. "I would never defy you, my lady. I simply..." "Well what is it?" Gemella spoke softly. "I have never been with a man before." For a moment, Portia felt a twinge of pity for the girl. It passed quickly with the thought that she was simply one more person who stood in her way of the throne. She claimed to believe in Portia, but she like all of the others favored Marcus. He was their choice. When he came home, he would ruin everything for her. She knew it. Commodus believed that they could bide their time till his death, but if Marcus took the throne, he would overshadow her. Portia swallowed the sudden rage that encompassed her. She knew that she should be more rational. Commodus was a wise man. He would not steer her wrong when his own personal interests were also at stake. But she could not think. She could only feel anger like none she had ever known. She would not allow Marcus to humiliate her as her father had by offering her like chattel to a man she did not love. She would not allow herself to be diminished by yet another man. She squatted down gracefully, thing fingers sliding beneath the girl's jaw to grip her chin. Startled eyes raised to hers as she held the woman there. "You can Gemella, and you will because you crave the heat of his touch. As you said, Marcus is a good man. He will not harm you and you will finally have the chance to lay within his arms as you dream of." She smiled when Gemella's breath hitched. "This is a gift. Would you throw my generosity back in my face?" "Of course not, my lady! I will do whatever you ask. My life is yours. You know this." Portia nodded. That was what she was hoping on. She released Gemella and stood. She moved away from the kneeling girl and over to her vanity table. In the bottom drawer was a very small, locked box. They key was around her neck on a delicate gold chain. Inside the box was a small via made of blue glass. When the stopper was removed, she inhaled the scent delicately. The liquid inside smelled vaguely sweet. If you do this, you can never take it back. Commodus will not agree with these actions. Think Rationally, Portia... Stories were told of a great Queen in a foreign land who had once taken her own life with the bite of the kind of snake whose venom was in the liquid in that vial. It's poison was among the most potent in the world and worked quickly even when it was ingested in a diluted form. In wine it would be undetectable until the drinker's joints began to stiffen, and their blood slowed in their veins. By then it would be too late to scream because their throat passage would be to swollen to produce sound. It was a poison which had killed a Queen. It was fitting that it would be the same to kill a future King.... Portia carefully sealed the bottle and then returned to where Gemella was still kneeling. "Rise." The girl obeyed obediently. Her head was still bowed but she glanced up, startled when Portia put the vial in her hand. Her eyes met Portia's as her mistress tightened her hold around her slender fingers. "Your life is mine?" Gemella's expression wavered in confusion. She nodded slowly. "Of course, my lady. If I fail you in anything, my life is forfeit if you wish. I live for you." Portia smiled. "You are a loyal friend, Gemella and I thank you for it." "Of course, my lady..." Portia released her. "When Marcus returns, you will be waiting for him. He will be weary after his long journey and welcome the attentions of a willing woman. You will do whatever he asks of you and when he thirsts for more than your body, you will pour him some wine. This vial is to be emptied into the pitcher before you go to him. I do not recommend that you drink any of it." "I do not understand." "There is only one thing for you to understand and that is that you have pledged your life and will to me. Do as I say and do not question me again." She inhaled and then took the funeral veil from Gemella's other hand. She arranged it herself, draping it gracefully. "Now go and speak of this to no one. Remember your promise." Gemella looked down at the vial in her hand and then slowly back to Portia. Her pale eyes were filled with the horror of a woman who saw her death. She nodded slowly and bowed low before she silently left the room. Portia closed her eyes when the door closed behind her. Long live Marcus Aurelius.... - - - - - - - - - - "We should be home in less than week, General Aurelius." "And what of the rebel forces our scouts encountered two days past?" "There has been no sighting of them, but we have tightened the watch on the rebel leader that we captured. The men are rotating every 2 hours on guard duty. " "Good. I wish every man on his guard. We are going to take the Southern passages down by the river. There is less chance for an ambush there than if we try to take the Mountain pass. What I cannot see through, I cannot trust.'" "Understood, General. I will put men on it." "Good. Our mission is to return home with this traitor to Celaenia and see him properly tried. He will pay for every crime he has committed against the crown and against the people of Celaenia. Is that understood?" "Yes General Aurelius. I will ready the men for departure within the hour." "Good. Dismissed." The commander of the second brigade saluted from the chest out, then moved off to ready the troops. Marcus bent back over the maps he had laid out in his tent to chart out the path that would return them to Celaenia with days no darker than the ones he feared might come. They had been marching for three days without stopping to make camp. Swigs of water taken occasionally from leather canteens. A Celaenian soldier was one of the most disciplined and well trained in the civilized world. Weaknesses like cold and sickness were squelched from sheer discipline. Spartan lifestyles kept them as hard as the rocky soils they traveled over in their quests for the great glory of Celaenia. Of all the Celaenian armies, his regiment was one of the most disciplined and well trained. Every man beneath his command would have gladly traded his life for his without a moment's hesitation. It was the greatest honor a soldier and general could be given. It had not been an easy journey, but these men were his brothers in arms and in heart. His father had been a general in the Celaenian army. Marcus's memories of him were faint, but he remembered a stern, quiet man who wore an air of authority around him as proudly as the signature red cloaks of the Celaenian soldiers. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 02 Marcus rolled up the maps and then left his tent. The sun had set and he could hear his men enjoying the day's rest he had allowed them. The strict sentry rotation schedule still applied, but they were allowed to rest by a fire and share stories about their home. His lips curved slightly as he watched his men trading drink and stories around the campfires which would burn out before the break of day when they would be roused to begin the trek again. This time they would be pushed twice as hard, not stopping until they reached Celaenia's gates. He allowed them this moment of reprieve , gathering his own thoughts. He reached for the canteen that was offered to him. The water splashed warm, but still welcoming down his throat. On days when the sun blazed hot over the horizon, even the faint savor of the leather from the canteen, could not take away from a soldier's gratitude for it. Marcus wiped a hand across his mouth, smearing the sweat and several days' worth of grime across his lips to mingle with the staler flavor of the pigskin. In the distance he could make out the mountains that seemed to stretch on forever, but which he knew would lead them sooner to Celaenia than they might think. They were returning triumphant after this journey, but sunburned, filthy, and lice infested. He thought, with a wry quirk of lips, that their lady Empress wouldn't know where to put her dainty nose when she welcomed back her brave soldiers. He passed back the canteen and then turned away from the view of the hills to return to the tent where their captive was being held. On the way, he paused to get a battered tin cup, filling it with water from the communal bucket that had been hauled up from the river earlier that morning. It was likely to be the last fresh water that they would have before they reached Celaenian walls. His footsteps thudded quietly over the rocks as he took the full cup to the tent. When the tent flap swished shut behind him, the inside of the tent once more fell into the cooler darkness that the scorching sun could not penetrate. King Edrigu Mikalous sat with his hands and ankles bound, though the knots were more loosely tied than those that had bound the wrists of other prisoners their camp had entertained. He was a traitor to the Celaenian crown, having tried to stage an uprising instead of a peaceful surrender to Celaenian sovereignty. His soldiers had been slaughtered as they would have tried to slaughter the Celaenians had they been allowed, but his people had been spared. Those who pledged allegiance, albeit reluctantly, came out of the affair with their lives and soldiers at their city's gate. Agsidian was now under their control, and their king would never see his homeland again. He had chosen his path. It was one of a traitor, but also a man noble enough to trade his life for those of his people. For that reason alone, did Marcus give him a portion of the respect owed to an old king. Marcus was silent as he squatted down on his heels. He set the cup aside and then undid the old man's hands. When he had gotten some of the feeling back in his wrists, Marcus handed him the cup. "Drink that," he said quietly. "We will be reaching Celaenian walls within a few days time. You will need your strength. " "I do not think strength will aide me when I am put to death as a traitor before your tribunal?" Marcus said nothing, his gaze calm and as unflinching as rock. His eyes met the other man's steadily and finally, Edrigu dropped his own gaze. Silently, he drank the water before handing back the cup. "Thank you." Marcus merely inclined his head slightly. "The Senators will decide your fate, not I, King Mikalous. I am simply a soldier in the Celaenian army. I have no hand in politics." "And yet you would be King, were your uncle still alive," Edrigu said quietly. Those dark eyes watched Marcus, making no move to get away when the man knelt to retie his hands more loosely around his chafed wrists. "I remember him. He was a hard man but a fair one in his younger years. We once had an alliance, but during these last years, he became hard and his "treaties" continually demanded more than we could give." "I cannot speak for my uncle. He is dead and I have not been in Celaenia for five years. " "I see. You speak diplomatically, Marcus Aurelius. You are a hard man, but you have treated me fairly. Men like you make great kings." "I am no King. Nor do I have any desire to be. I serve Celaenia best by defending her borders and expanding her influence." "By murdering others?" Marcus's gaze was steady. "There is no murder where there is surrender." "You expect the whole world to surrender to Celaenian ways of life?" "We have brought forth many benefits to the people beneath our crown. We offer our alliances the opportunity to better themselves. What we ask for in return is loyalty." "What you ask for are slaves; mindless and obedient." Marcus was silent a moment, those gray eyes meeting the old King's for a moment. There was a long silence between them before he stood again, taking the cup with him. He said nothing as he walked out of the tent, nodding to the soldier keeping watch just outside. "Keep watch. We move come morning." "Yes General." Marcus moved back towards the fires. He could hear drums in the distance. A dark brow arched in curiosity as he approached, watching from the outskirts. It seemed that his men had found the company of wandering dancers who used their skills to guarantee a meal and some coin this night. Marcus watched the women from a distance more conservative than that of his men who clapped and hollered encouragements as veils swung and smooth expanses of legs and belly flashed in tribute to the gods. Bracelets jangled, enticing the men with promises that they had long been denied during warfare. The beat was pagan, and the heat that the dancers inspired was a primal and base instinct. Marcus stayed back outside of the circle, away from the net of seduction the dream weavers cast, even as his body reacted even beneath the armor that was only removed when he bedded down within Celaenian walls. It was the lead dancer who caught his attention. She was taller than the others, but light of frame and long of limb. From the distance, her features were obscured by the flickering shadows of the camp fire, but the long sinuous curves of stomach and thigh were clearly seen as she undulated to the music. She moved like water, motion slowly rippling from the center of her body. Her stomach, then her hips; a soft undulation bidden by the rhythmic cantos of drums. Her arms were serpentine in their graceful looseness at the wrists. Her fingers snapped. The drums quickened. Strong hands beat a staccato rhythm on the stretched hide and eight women joined her. Muslin rustled and small bells jangled at their ankles; larkish, musical, cut short and teased out with each sharp writhe. A beat. A step. A call. A look. She could feel their eyes on her as she moved. Shadow and flame flickered over her skin and the stars burned in her eyes. But they did not burn for the leering soldiers at the edge of the firelight. They burned for the man shackled in the calf skin tent. They burned for vengeance. The woman who was called Yanamari, spun left and whipped right. She thrust her arms out and went slack at the waist, torso bending back until the tips of her dark hair brushed the dusty ground. The drums cracked. She snapped upright. Hands clapped. Hips switched. Nine pairs of feet churned the earth to the halting cadence, and the drums swelled to the tripping of Yanamari's pulse. When she straightened, she looked at the man standing apart from the others. She smiled as she slowed. Her graceful movements seemed to be for him alone, beckoning him closer so that he could bring her into his arms and take her by the light of the fires while his men watched. Marcus tensed. Her eyes were drowning deep and he knew that if he moved forward, all of his men would follow his example. She would not deny him once he had her in his arms where he could stroke his body deep into hers, matching his thrusts with the pagan beat of their drums. Yet still he stayed at a distance, taking a drink from the tin cup in his hand before he passed it to the soldier closest to him so he could make his retreat. As the sound of the drum beats faded, so did the arousal which had run so rampant only a few moments earlier. Memories of the dead whose spirits were carted away by the ferryman, while their bodies burned in the funeral fires, were sobering thoughts. Those fires boasted flames which licked at flesh as slowly as the camp dancers swayed their slender arms overhead. It was in the flames where he saw the faces of his son and his wife. In fires like those, they had perished, the flames feasting on their flesh while he was away battling an enemy who name he did not even remember. Others had shared that fate as well on that day that his wife's village had been taken by rebel forces, but in his grief, only two lives mattered. She had been a country girl. A woman who had adored him and given him a son. A woman with nothing to her name except the voice of a lark, the face of an angel, and the love of a man of Celaenia. She had been an unfit match for a son of Celaenia who was so close to the crown. His uncle had protested his marriage. She was nothing to be remembered. And yet her name HE did remember. Aurelia... A hand rubbed over his eyes, suddenly feeling every one of his hardened 28 years. His son had been only 4 years old when he was murdered, yet his small body had looked as ancient as a mummified corpse. His skin had flaked off in Marcus's hands when he held the little boy to his chest and shouted his grief to the gods who had allowed such an atrocity to happen. Marcus pressed his fist to his mouth, his eyes closed to allow the moment to pass. It always did with the though thought that in his grief, he might prevent their souls from finding happiness in the next life. They had suffered enough in this life. He would not allow his pain to bind their souls to this world any longer, yet his memories would remain as would their names across his heart. Abruptly, he turned on his heel to return to the tent where King Edrigu was being kept. When his mind was full, he became a creature of restless habit, checking to ensure the camp's continued security when there was no need. He trusted his men, but he did not trust himself to find peace in slumber this night As he made his way back towards the camp, he heard the drums stop abruptly. Cheers and stomping mingled with the fire's smoke and the sharp scent of male desire. The eight dancers threaded themselves through the camp, many falling into the hungry arms of his long deprived soldiers. He paid them no need. He was focused on his own thoughts and did not see the slender leader of the dancers as she moved silently to the calf skin tent, reaching for the flap at the same time as the soldier within. The young soldier looked startled, but Yanamari took him to the shadows and made him believe that the stars of her eyes burned for him. He was so blinded by their light that he didn't see the knife. He was so lost in her mouth that he didn't feel it pierce his heart until he fell dead at her feet. She swallowed the bile in her throat as she slipped into the tent to leave behind the musk of male satisfaction which hung thick in the air. As the fires died to coals, Yanamari crouched in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust and lighten the shadows. In one of the corners she heard a man gasping for breath. Her voice was a whisper. "Father?" There was a rustling sound from the same corner. "Yanamari? Is that you?" She moved cautiously so the bells at her ankles and wrists would not give her away. She knelt at her father's side, feeling for his shoulder. Edrigu, King of the Agsidiani , found his daughter's hand first and followed a path up her arm to her shoulders and her neck, closing his leathery palms over her face. "Yes, Father," Yanamari whispered, touching his raw knuckles. "I'm here." "Oh, Yanamari," he croaked, pulling her against his chest. "My beautiful, stubborn girl. My foolish girl," he added in a fierce whisper. "Why are you here? I told you to remain in hiding." "I could not leave you here to be murdered." "You disobeyed me." "Yes but there is no time now for apologies," Yanamari whispered as she drew herself from his arms. "There is a soldier, just outside the tent. Take his armor and his sword." She talked as she began to cut through the ropes binding him, with her knife. Her father stopped her. "Someone's coming," he whispered. The hairs on the back of Yanamari's neck rose. She caught a brief glimpse of her father's face in the waning firelight that slanted in through the opening tent flap. His eyes flickered purposefully to the knife in her hands. She hid it just as the cool steel of another blade touched the column of her throat and an unseen hand fisted in her thick curls. Yanamari gasped, not daring even to swallow. "Who are you?" Marcus felt her tense. He had seen the slender figure slip through the shadows and into the tent, when he was returning from the fire. It had been too slender and delicate to be one of his men. He had followed her and now he could feel her pulse fluttering in her throat like a frightened bird. His own weight shifted, the blade held firmly against that slender throat. His other was already wrapped in thick curls that coiled about his wrist. He heard a gasp. The hair and skin were too long and soft to be male and the voice when it answered, was gently feminine. "I...." Yanamari swallowed, closing her eyes as the movement briefly brought her neck closer to the knife. She began to speak, but King Mikolaus cut her off. "Just a dancer, Aurelius," he said. "She came to give an old man some company during his last few nights." Marcus lifted a brow in the darkness, but he sensed no movement in the tent other than the slim female body that had gone stiff in his arms. Her fingers seemed too small to do the kind of damage that he was sure his guard had come to. They were tiny and delicate, with short nails that he could feel as they dug into his arm in an attempt to brace herself and keep from slitting her throat against the razor edge of his blade. "Silence. I am speaking to the girl. King Mikolaus obeyed immediately, but his words rang sharply in Yanamari's ears. Fresh anger blazed in her chest at Celaenia, at her father's captors and at herself for failing to free him. No. She would not abandon her father so easily as that. There was still hope. If she could only get this man to loosen his grip, or to take the knife away. Or... Taking her father's lead, Yanamari pressed back into Marcus's armored chest, pushing the knowledge that he could cut her throat with a mere flick of his wrist, to the back of her mind. "I could give you company, too," she murmured. She struggled to keep her voice steady. Nubile young curves pressed into Marcus's armored chest. Her head lolled back against his shoulder, giving her a small reprieve from the knife blade while it lined her body flush against his. Thick curls tumbled loose over her shoulders and back, brushing his arm. They were as soft as the down of a baby chick, but Marcus could feel the tension in that form that had moved so gracefully by the fire. "A-And pleasure." "Both things that I could take of my own will from any captive here," he said evenly. She was soft and smelled faintly of fresh water and spring. He had been without a woman for nearly a year, but the needs of the man came after the duties of a soldier. He felt her stiffen again, a soft whimper coming from her throat as he tightened his hold. "Are you alone now?" "Yes." "Who are you?" There was no answer.When the silence stretched on longer than his patience could take it, he pulled the knife back, but kept his grip on her hair to drag her backwards with him from the tent. Pain flared in her knees as they struck the unforgiving earth. Yanamari leaned forward and put her hands on the ground to keep herself from trembling. Yanamari held her silence out of loyalty to her father and her country. Her head dipped lower, her weight braced on hands and knees. "I am losing my patience, girl." Those slender shoulders dipped, but she glanced up at him when he raised his hand. The light from the torches illuminated her features enough to reveal large, liquid dark eyes, a small, straight nose, and lips that were made for a man's pleasure. Hers was a face that he had known for five years of laughter and the peace a soldier dreams of after he has been fighting half of his life... His breath caught, feeling for a moment as if Aurelia had crossed the bridge between life and death to see him tonight. But those were the thoughts of fool, and a man who wanted it far too much... His hand clenched slowly into a fist as he met her eyes, his mind scrambling for some obvious difference between the face of this girl, and his wife. Her lashes were longer and her cheeks were fuller, but they were subtle changes that he wouldn't have noticed had he not needed to so badly. Had they been under different circumstances, he would have been convinced that the gods had given Aurelia backto him. "Answer me," he said roughly. "Do not make me ask again. My patience is very thin, and this heart is dry and hard. It would welcome any infusion of liquid, even your blood." Yanamari had known the dangers when she had taken on this mission, but looking into the eyes of the man who had sealed her father's death and wouldn't hesitate to do the same to her, caused a fresh flutter of panic in her chest. "His--A member of his court." 'What is your name?" She hesitated for a moment, but found no mercy in his eyes. "Mara. My name is Mara. I am the last survivor of his resistance. You.." Her voice cracked and she swallowed. "You killed the rest." Her brothers had been counted in the day's death toll. Her father was all she had left. That much was the truth and yet she held her breath as Marcus stared. He seemed to be looking into her soul and a tick appeared in his jaw when her voice cracked. "And you wished to join them? It is high treason to assist a traitor to the Celaenian empire in any way." "I wished to save a good man from murder," she said, her anger slowly gaining ground over her fear when he made no move to harm her. "I wished to give hope to his people and my home. It is an even greater treason against mankind, to force people to submit to your will when all they want is to live as they have for thousands of years." "The empire of Celaenia wishes to share the knowledge it has to create a better life. "Your people live in little more than the shadows of true civilization." Yanamrai tensed as his eyes met hers. She trembled with fear but her voice was stronger than he had expected. "You call us savages, but it is we who worship the earth and respect her." "What do pagans know of respect? Your people attacked my men when they slept. We did not declare war on you." "You were in our lands! Would you not have done the same if we were to scale your precious golden walls?!" Her voice rang out and Marcus's expression hardened. He knelt down, dropping to one knee on the ground as he pressed the tip of the blade just under her throat. When her eyes widened, he had a relapse of memory. His wife's eyes wide and staring as he pulled her nude body from the noose. The sweet scent of her skin replaced in his memory by the smell of burnt wood when he returned to the shell of her village. Loss. Rage. Failure. She flinched when he tightened his hold on the knife. Then Marcus stood. She stared as he pulled her roughly to her feet. A wave of horror washed over her so strongly that she almost swayed. He would take her offer first, she realized. He would have his way with her and then kill her. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 02 She struggled, but his hand closed hard around her wrist to keep her from running from him as he led her across the camp to his tent. The torches were already lit as he tossed her unceremoniously onto the pallet in the corner. "I am not going to harm you, but if you run or make any attempt on my life, I will throw you to the mercy of my men. Is that understood?" Yanamari said nothing. She sat quickly upright, putting her back to the wall of the tent and hugging her knees to her chest. Her legs crossed protectively at the ankles. She understood, but she kept her silence. She considered her word binding even to a man this savage and she would not lose any chance to help her father. "Do you understand me and do you give me your word that you will obey?" When she said nothing, Marcus moved to the flap of the tent that was still open. The officers had retired with bed-mates, but there were plenty of lower ranking soldiers who were lonely this evening and willing for a bit of company. He looked back to her, his point clear. His were a people bound by their word and by their honor; a habit he employed always. She seemed determined not to speak, her head held high and proud. But there was a flicker of fear in those dark eyes as they followed Marcus. "Suit yourself," he said quietly. "Brutus, come here.". The soldier appeared quickly. "Yes General Aurelius?" "We have an intruder in our midst. I wish the guards on King Mikalous tripled and we move before daybreak. This girl is to be considered a captive of war and treated as such. You may have her to do with what you like with tonight, but do not kill her." Yanamari moved quickly, the bells on the anklet jingling. She pushed off the pallet and put herself in the corner farthest from the tent flap, watching him warily. Her heart pounded and her knees were weak. She would not allow him to taint her. The shame of having her maidenhead take by force while the sands in her father's hourglass sifted away, would be unbearable. Her breath caught when she felt Brutus's gaze wandering over her slender form. Arousal was clear in his eyes as his gaze lingered on the exposed length of ankle and calf. His gaze shifted to Marcus who was watching Yanamari silently. His jaw was tight but his expression was blank. "Take her back to your tent. We move before dawn." She felt sick. To swear to this Celaenian would be to commit treason against Agsidian, yet as Brutus advanced and took her roughly by the wrists, Yanamari broke. "No!" She dug her heels into the earth and struggled against the soldier, wrestling one hand free to swipe her nails across his cheek. He growled and returned the favor with a rough backhand, splitting the flesh of her lower lip. He released his hold long enough to give Yanamari the moment she needed. She scrambled backwards, daring to turn her back to Brutus and fall at Marcus's feet. "I swear," she said in a watery voice. She took hold of his ankle and even took the knife from beneath her clothes, stabbing it into the ground by his foot. "I swear, General Aurelius." Brutus advanced on her again, but this time it was Marcus's sword that kept him back. The rage showed momentarily in his face as the point of Marcus's sword remained just beneath his throat. "Your duty was done, soldier. Stand down." The other man tensed, but Marcus did not relent or look down at the girl at his feet until Brutus stepped back. He waited until the angry salute came and then lowered his sword. "This woman is off limits to you and the rest of the camp. She is beneath my protection. There are 8 other dancers who will make the rounds tonight on my orders. Do not mistreat them. Is that clear?" "Yes General Aurelius." "Good. Dismissed." When Brutus left, he re-sheathed the sword and reached a hand down to the girl. Her face was already bruising. Again he fought back that wave of memory. "Come." Tears pricked her eyes. Her face throbbed and there was the coppery taste of blood on her tongue when she gently touched it to her swelling lip. Yanamari took his hand and used it to pull herself to her feet, but she didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the floor, careful not to glance at the knife she had given up. Marcus tucked the blade into his own belt. He led her back to the edge of his bed pallet, leaving her there for a moment as he moved to get his canteen and a small leather pouch. A piece of linen was dampened with water and wrung out before he touched it to her mouth to wipe away the blood. "You will not be harmed as long as you are obedient. You did well to defend yourself but I value loyalty. Do you understand?" Yanamari sank heavily onto the pallet, hands curled tightly around the edge to keep from shaking in the fleeting rush of adrenaline. Wincing as he touched the cloth to her mouth, she drew in a sharp breath through her nose and pulled slightly back to nod. "Good," he said quietly as he tended to her mouth, then got out his last share of the rations that he had until they reached Celaenian walls. "Eat that. You will need your strength on the journey tomorrow." She wasn't hungry, but she knew his words rang true. Yanamari chewed silently on the dried meat, careful to keep the salt cured strips from the cut on her mouth. "What is to be my fate, then?," she asked after the silence had stretched for a long while and the last of the meat was in her stomach. Marcus handed her his canteen silently, watching as her throat worked when she drank it down with gusto. A delicate hand wiped across her mouth when she pushed the canteen back. "That depends on your obedience and the loyalty you show." "I cannot answer that if I do not know what your idea of loyalty is." She had once again found the presence of mind to not only look him in the eye, but to hold his gaze as only the daughter of a king could. "If you are speaking of your honor I have no interest in it," he said evenly. "But I am willing to bargain with you. I will spare your life if you can prove to me that you are loyal." He paused, meeting her eyes. "You will go into service for the Empress as a handmaiden and you will report to me daily about the activities of your lady. Should you attempt to betray me I will cut your throat myself." Yanamari closed her eyes as the full weight of his words sank into her. "And should she discover my.. loyalty.. lies with you, she will cut my throat herself," she said with a weak laugh. "Why not try me as a traitor like my--" She almost slipped. "--King?" "Because your life is of little consequence to me," he said harshly. The words stung though he could not possibly know how much. To him she was nothing. To her people, she was the future and rightful Queen of Agsidian. She wanted to rail at Marcus and cast herself at him like a she-devil. How could he be rumored to be such a good, wise man and still not see the truth that lay before him? He was not a weak man. He could do so much and yet he chose to follow the wrong causes. She had no other choice but to agree to his requests if she was to restore Agsidian to its glory. "You have my loyalty." He simply inclined his head before he stood. When she instinctively flinched back, he paused, then stepped a bit away, his tones a quiet rumble. "You have nothing to fear from me as long as you keep your vow. I will not tie your hands or feet, but if you try to run, I assure you that you will be caught." He paused again. A hand rubbed briefly over tired eyes. "You may sleep here with confidence. No one will touch you. Rest because we will be marching early to Celaenia." It was finished? He was keeping his word and not harming her? Yanamari felt her delicate features contorting in confusion when he remained standing there instead of falling upon her as Brutus had done. She had seen the arousal spark in his eyes when she had tumbled onto his bed pallet, yet he made no move to hurt her. It was confusing to a woman who had prepared herself for the worst. "No one will come in while I sleep?" "No. You have you my word. I will remain outside. Your virtues will remain your own." "Why would you do such a thing? Do you not desire me as your men do?" "I take no pleasure in rape. Those who have shared my bed have always done so willingly." "Ah so you only take captives in war then?" His jaw tightened, but he remained where he was. She was trying to bait him deliberately as she shuffled back a bit on the pallet, her blouse having slipped to one side to expose the delicate curve of her shoulder. Her skirt had also ridden up, exposing long, shapely thighs which in his memories, were wrapped around his hips as his wife moaned his name and gave herself over to him freely. Marcus inhaled and looked away for a moment. Aurelia had been a virgin when she came to him, but he had taught her about passion and she became a source of solace for him when he came home from the wars. In her body, he had found his moments of comfort. She was a passionate woman, and when he had found himself on the edge of sanity, she had used her mouth to tear him from memories of war and bloodshed and bring him peace. He could not see that same peace in the eyes of the woman who called herself Mara. She shook with her fury, yet his loyalty was to Celaenia, not to an unknown member of an enemy resistance. "Do not try my patience, Mara. It is not without limit." "No? Is your resolve to abstain from my body, without limit?" Yanamari felt her heart skip a beat. She offered the bold challenge even as her knees felt weak. She didn't know where the words had come from other than her fear. She was a proud woman and a princess in her own right. To be so humiliated, burned her sense of justice and pride and made her foolish. She knew better than to challenge a man like Marcus Aurelius of Celaenia, who stood a head taller than most men and exuded a quiet virility that even she was not blind to. Her breath caught when she saw his eyes narrow, her breasts rising and falling with the speed of her quickening pulse. She had baited him and still he made no move. She was a virgin and her chastity was important to her, yet for a moment she didn't wish him to be a gentleman jailor. She could not hate him as she needed to if he was kind to her and her hatred was all that she had now. "You continue to bait me," he said softly. "Do you wish me to take you against your will? " Her heart was suddenly in her throat, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. He had still made no move towards her, but neither was he leaving. "I wish to be set free." "That I cannot do." "You mean you will not do it." "Yes," he agreed. "Now be silent. I have given the order to my men that you are not to be touched, but if you bait them as you have done to me tonight, they may forget themselves. It is in your best interest to be still." "So only you will refuse a woman?" "If she is unwilling, yes." "And if I was willing?" A dark brow arched as he watched her face a moment. He could see her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird in her throat. Despite her bold challenge, she was trembling, her hands tightly clinging to the edge of his bed pallet. Her cheeks were pale in the dim lighting. Whatever her motivation for this seduction, desire had no part in it. "You are not." "How can you tell? You are not a woman." "And neither are you," he commented mildly, watching the rage build in her face. "You are trying to manipulate me and you are not offering me to yourself as a willing woman." "How dare you!" She flung the canteen he had left by her pallet at him. It bounced harmlessly off of his shoulder, but when she launched herself a moment after, his control broke. She shrieked as strong hands pressed her back to the mat, pinning her flailing wrists over her head in one of his hands. His knee slid between her thigh to pin her with his weight and his other hand covered her mouth before she could scream. She whimpered against his palm. "Be still! " Tears forced themselves from her eyes and his heart tightened, but he did not release her till she offered a slight nod. He moved his hand slowly but kept her beneath him. "You are just like your men! After all of your high talk, you are still just an animal!" "An animal would be inside of you by now, Mara. He would already have torn away this frail skirt and shoved your thighs apart so he could find his own pleasure with no thought of your own. " "You would not dare!" Her tones weren't as strong as she had wanted them to be, and she berated herself for the fear in her voice. She did not want this man to have any more control over her other emotions, but when he pressed harder against her, she whimpered. She was innocent, yet her ears burned when that hard, male part of him pressed snugly against the vee of her thighs where her skirts had tangled up high around her hips. Her breath came hard and fast, but he made no move to carry out his threat. He was looking into her eyes as if searching for something. Her breath caught when he leaned down till their faces were very close. She couldn't find her voice and when she didn't protest, his mouth slowly brushed over hers. She had been expecting an angry caress, but his lips though chapped, were gentle when he covered her mouth with his. She froze as his tongue traced the outline of her mouth, slowly urging her lips to part. She reacted on instinct, lips parting. The warm, foreign pressure of his tongue was unexpectedly thrilling as it stroked into her mouth and she found herself slowly responding. Marcus hadn't intended to touch her, but when she had issued her last challenge, the line that his mind was waking had become obscured by his own fatigue and desire for a life that he had long stolen from him. She was warm beneath him, her body soft and pliant as his hand tangled in her thick curls to urge her response. She was hesitant, but when his hand stroked down the side of her throat and feathered across her collarbones, he felt her pulse quicken. Her head fell back when he broke the kiss and Marcus trailed his mouth from her shoulder then farther down where her blouse had fallen open. Creamy skin scented like lavender and sage was soft against his mouth. He groaned as he allowed his cheek to rub over her body through the cloth that separated them. The material became damp from his mouth and Mara was making soft keening sounds as his teeth teased one taut nipple through the fabric. Her eyes were wide when he pulled back and undid the simple laces in the front of her shift. Within a few moments she was nude from the waist up and his desire strained beneath his armor. His tongue traced the delicate curve of her ear as his hand slowly released her wrists so that he could stroke down her outstretched arms and over her breasts. They were full and lush, tipped with large rosy nipples that begged to be touched and tasted. Yanamari arched beneath him as his mouth trailed further down her body, past the flatness of a belly toned from dancing, to the waistband of her skirt tangled around her hips. Mouth and hand met in the middle, before his lips passed down to the tangle of fine, tight curls between her shapely thighs. She gasped when his tongue found that elusive heat that made his own desire threaten to spill over when he felt how wet she was. Her scent was faintly musky and sweet at the same time, and she slid across his tongue like honey. His tongue worshiped her as he reached between them to loosen the ties that bound him, swearing beneath his breath when his fingers clumsily tangled them together. Instead he left it, taking it as a sign from the fates. She was a prisoner of war, no matter whose face she wore and he could not bring himself to fill her belly with a child who in another life would have been everything to him. She moaned when his hands pushed her quivering thighs farther apart so that he could slide one finger slowly into her, groaning when her secret muscles clamped down on him desperately. Had he been inside if her, he would have been lost immediately. He growled as another finger slid into her, careful not to breach that thin resistance he felt when he pushed too high. She cried out and his tongue stroked upward to suck rhythmically on that little bud that was the source of all of a woman's pleasure. It took only a moment before she broke beneath him screaming, but not in pain. He felt her flood his hand and he leaned up to capture her mouth so he could buck against her, riding her orgasm to bring his own in a rush of heat. When he found his breath again, he was braced above her. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, her lips parted but she wasn't saying a word. "Mara?" What had she done? She had meant to strengthen her resolve by proving that he was a beast who was after only what he wanted, and instead she had given herself freely to the same man who would hang her as a traitor if he knew her true identity. She felt her breath catch as a single tear slid down her cheek. She heard him say her name again as his hand touched her cheek with more gentleness than she would have expected from him even now. She closed her eyes and after a moment, she felt him move away from her. His clothing rustled in the dark as he adjusted himself. It was finished. She had betrayed her country. She had failed her father. She was no Queen. Speaking no more of their bargain or anything else, Yanamari rolled to her side. Slender hands pressed tightly against her ears, tying to block out the voice she heard in her own head. He had not used force and yet she had been willing in that moment of heat, to give him everything. Her body still craved his and she choked back a sob as she curled on her pallet. To Celaenia, she thought with a heavy heart. To the life of a traitor. Marcus sighed as he paused there in the doorway of the tent. When she had breathed his name and brushed her lips over his cheek, she had made him forget who he was and what he was meant to do. His duty came first. It always had to come first. He watched her for a moment. When his heart could take no more, he stepped out onto the night, allowing the flap to close behind him. To Celaenia. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 03 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been completely revamped, so the folks who have been following the story might want to go back and re-read from Chapter 1. The idea of intrigue, betrayal and a power struggle are the still the same. However, entire new passages and parts have been added and some omitted. What was once Chapter 3 is now broken up and will be Chapter 4. Complicated but I think better. Changing to a fantasy setting (upon suggestion by my editor Rogue Lurker who is FABULOUS even though we work together on a sporadic basis due to scheduling differences) allowed me to play more with the idea of pagan magic and other aspects that I found were limited in a historically accurate Roman setting. Hopefully if you enjoyed the original, you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote or leave a comment. And a quick fun fact for those who email me asking who I imagine when I think of Portia, I modeled her loosely after Angelina Jolie in terms of appearance. Marcus is modeled after dreamy Russell Crowe. Hope that clarifies. Thanks all. - - - Portia slowly entered into the room where everyone waited to begin the funeral procession. the scent of incense assaulted her nostrils, her stomach coiling as she resisted the urge to gag/ her eyes met Commodus's from across the room and he moved towards her to meet her halfway. He bowed from the waist and she gently inclined her head. "Are we ready, Excellency?" "Upon your indication, Your Highness." Portia nodded, feeling as if she was moving in a fog. She had orchestrated every detail of this day carefully so that she could go through the motions without thought. Her mind was too heavy with other things to be weighed down with trivialities. She and her entourage would follow the senators and guards who would carry her father's cloaked body on the carved ivory stretcher adorned in the finest of silk fabrics in the royal colors of gold and lapis lazuli. The procession would wind around the streets to give everyone their chance to offer up prayers to the gods and goddesses as their King passed from this world into the next Portia could not see her father's face beneath the silks shrouding him, yet for a moment she imagined that the dead man would sit up to chastise her for her treachery. She didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she heard the priest's voice by her ear to rouse her from her thoughts. "We shall proceed then." Portia's expression was hidden by the shadows of her veil and she welcomed the anonymity it offered. Today she needed her masks more than she would ever have acknowledged. The soldiers grasped the handles of the stretcher and moved out of the room out into the streets of Celaenia. It was a slow, solemn parade. The streets were lined with mourners who tossed flowers into their path. Portia met their gazes beneath the silk of her veil and her breath caught when she saw the sadness in so many eyes. She reached for Commodus's arms to brace herself, ignoring the glance he offered her. Her hold tightened when the funeral procession gathered high upon the hill. The stretcher was placed upon the funeral pyre and she felt the world swim around her. Think of Celaenia. What was done cannot be undone. It took a few moments before she pulled herself together enough to take the offered torch and climb the ladder to her father's form. A shaky hand slipped beneath his shroud to adjust the coins upon his eyes, before she bent over to press her lips upon his forehead. "Forgive me, father," she murmured. "You once told me that all great rulers must be willing to do whatever is necessary to guarantee the health and happiness of their people. I have traded my soul for thier fate. May the gods forgive me." She pulled back, tears warm on her cheeks as she dropped the torch. Commodus helped her step down as the kindling caught. Portia watched the flames licking along the wood and gradually up to the old King's body. She dropped her gaze when his body began to smoke. The voices of the senators and priests droned on in her ears as they spoke of the greatness of their late King. It made her sick. His early greatness was all his own, but when they spoke of deeds done in his later life, resentment pricked her soul. Those acts had been hers and they could never be acknowledged. She pressed both hands tightly over her heart and looked up at the sky as the flames crackled. He was the past and it was dead. Celaenia's future was a blank canvas and it would soon be etched with her name... Long live Celaenia. - - - - - - - - - Mmmmm lower." Portia's tone eased lazily from between plush lips as Captain Sirrus's strong, rough hands continued to work the muscles of her lower spine. He gently lowered the silk sheets another few inches so the curve of her shapely backside was revealed. Portia sighed and relaxed beneath his confident touch. Sirrus was the Captain of the home based Royal Guard. He was loyal, handsome and adored her, a trait that mattered more than any other because it could easily be exploited. Portia had a way with men. She had learned early on that many of them were like children. With a little guidance, they could be molded into whatever form was of the most use to her. She used the arrogance of men against them, making them believe they made her heart beat when her true desires lay in the heart of Celaenia. "You have the hands of a god." "One of my better qualities though other parts of me have been rumored more godly." Amusement flickered in Portia's eyes as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Is that so?" "Mmm hmm. I can show you if you like. There are other ways to relieve tension that are much more..." He trailed off abruptly and Portia followed his gaze to the door. Thena stood there awkwardly. She met Portia's eyes for a moment and then quickly bowed low to the floor. Portia's amusement deepened as the slender woman flushed. "My apologies my lady. I did not know that you were..." "Enjoying my nap," Portia interrupted smoothly. "I asked not to be disturbed." "Yes my lady, but there is news about your cousin." Portia stiffened. She impatiently pushed Sirrus's hands away so that she could prop up on her elbows to look at the frazzled woman, her long hair curling carelessly over her breasts. "Tell me. " "General Aurelius and his troops should be within Celaenia's walls within a day or two, my lady. " "Well, we will have to celebrate their return. It will give the people something to rejoice after all this mourning. " She lay back down, gesturing for Sirrus to continue as her eyes closed. "Close the public baths and have them prepared for our soldiers use, Thena. Make sure the water is warmed and soap and clean towels await them. I want their return to be a comfortable one. They have been away from Celaenian walls for too long." She shifted and turned over onto her back, lifting her hand so fingers could brush over the line of muscle along Sirrus's chest. His eyes narrowed in question, but Portia simply continued as if Thena was not in the room. "We shall have a feast to celebrate their return. We will hold it in the main hall. Tell the musicians to prepare and get the women and dancers ready. Advise the cooks I wish enough food to feed the entire village." She smiled when Sirrus's body tensed beneath her touch. Her nails raked gently over his skin to his hip and his eyes began to darken with desire. "Ready Marcus's room. Make sure he has fresh water in the basin and anything else he may need. He is as much a lord of this house as I am a lady." She paused a moment in thought as her hand slid up and curled behind the captain's neck. "You shall later prepare his bed with the linens I lay upon." She smiled as she gave the order. Marcus may have earned himself legends but there was 'land' he would never conquer. "Yes my lady." "You are excused." "Thank you." She scuttled out of the room and Portia's lips brushed along the exposed line of his throat. His groan vibrated in his throat against the scrape of her teeth and she smiled when she lay back. "What was all that about?" I don't know what you mean." "Of course you do." "It is nothing. Simply a game. I must find my amusements when I can." "You seem to be playing many games lately." Gray eyes narrowed as his hand tangled gently in her hair on either side of her head. He held her beneath him, dark eyes searching hers. "He is your cousin Portia, and yet you tempt him like you would any other man." "He is just like any other man." She paused, defiance sparking in her eyes as his hand tightened. "I was advised to marry him as the law allows. I am considering it." Sirrus's eyes darkened. "You would marry him after what we share?" "You always knew that I would eventually have to marry." "You have always told me you in intended to rule alone." "Intentions are not written in stone, Sirrus. The High Council opposes my sole rule as Queen. I need a consort and I do not know Marius of Syantix. Marcus is a hero of the people. With him at my side, the opposition will be silenced." The words were bitter as she pushed his hands away and sat up. She felt his gaze on her back as she moved away from the bed and slid on a silk dressing gown. She belted it, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She wanted to throw him from her room for daring to speak out against her. Like all of the other men in her life, he too was trying to rule her with his desires without consideration of hers. But she did not have the luxury of another tantrum in this moment. She had acted rashly by giving Gemella the poison, and it was a situation she would have to remedy. Marcus was too important a piece in her game to be discarded without care. If he could be turned to her desire she would not have to defy Commodus and incur his possible wrath. He was a great ally and there was too much at stake to risk burning bridges she desperately needed. She sighed as she rubbed a slender hand over her face. Her head ached. She had to calm herself and remember the goal. Celaenia. The light at the end of these dark tunnels illuminated the country she had spilled blood for. It was all that mattered. She glanced at Sirrus as he rose from the bed. The mattress creaked, relieved of his weight. He pulled on his uniform as she watched, but her hand touched his wrist gently before he could leave. "I'm sorry, Sirrus. I do not want to argue with you. My union with Marcus will be one of necessity, not love." When he didn't respond, she sighed and rose onto her knees. The mattress sunk sumptuously beneath her as both hands moved to his chest. Her expression softened when his jaw ticked. "I do this for love of my country, Sirrus." "And what of your love for me?" "That isn't fair." "There is nothing fair in this situation, Portia. You expect me to come when you call like a well cared for pet, yet you neglect me when it suits you." "I have a duty to my country." "And what of your duty to me." "Sirrus, you know that I love you as I have never loved any other, but I cannot fulfill my own desires at the expense of Celaenia and the people. They require my service as well as yours. We must both accept our paths." He laughed without humor. "Your path leads you to the bed of another man and you expect my joy." "What would you have me do then? Marry you?" "Why not? I have loved you all my life, Portia. I have served this country without questioning any order ever given to me. I would die for Celaenia and..." He didn't finish the sentence, but it hung there between them. He would die for you. Just like Caius. Just like your father. The world is yours, Portia, if you just take it... "Sirrus, come back to bed. It's not even noon yet." She dragged her nails over his belly with a sultry smile, but he pushed her hands away. She frowned at the uncharacteristic rejection. His anger was blinding him and leading him farther from her and her plans. She was losing him. It should have caused her pain. She loved him in her way, but when she looked at him she felt surrounded by a white emptiness that numbed her of all feeling. Her eyes closed, tension strumming through her body. A breath was inhaled slowly before she forced herself to slide off of the bed and walk over to him. Her knees felt stiff as she slowly knelt in front of him. She saw his surprise when his eyes met hers. She had never prostrated herself in front of any man. It was the first time and as her knees kissed the marble, any love she had felt for him curdled like mild in the summer sun. "Sirrus..." She pressed her cheek against his thigh, both hands curling around his knee. "I am sorry. Please...I need you now more than ever. Do not be threatened by Marcus. He is simply a means to an end; a happier time for all of Celaenia." Her lips brushed his thigh as she looked up at him, her eyes drowning deep. "I love you, not him. If he agrees to the marriage, he will own my body but never my mind nor my heart. Those belong only to you." I hate you. How could I not have seen your weakness? How could I ever have thought you worthy? He hesitated and she saw his expression soften when her eyes filled with tears. He was weakening and she felt a wave of revulsion wash over her as she won the battle. He was weak, just like Caius and her father. They allowed sentimentality to guide them in times when emotion was for the weak. She would never allow any man to make her weak. Celaenia's survival depended on her strength. She would not fail. "Do you not love me anymore?" "Portia..." A tear trickled down her cheek as she reached for his hand and placed it inside her shift to cup the soft flesh hidden within. Her jaw brushed over the front of his body and she felt him harden. Such weakness. I despise you. "Just love me, Sirrus. Please. I cannot do this on my own. I need your support and your strength." "You mean you need the home-based legion." "Yes. There are many who oppose me. I must present a strong and united image of Celaenia. My life and the future of our country are forfeit if Celania becomes divided by politics and civil war. The home-based legions are where this city draws its strength from and their protection guarantees our safety." Her expression softened enticingly as she pressed her cheek against his thigh to soothe as much as incite. He sighed heavily and she knew she had won. She nestled into his arms as he swept her up and walked with her back towards the bed. The mattress sunk beneath their combined weight and his fingers threaded into her hair as he braced himself over her. He sighed as she turned her head to trail her lips gently over his wrist. "You could marry me, Portia. The High Council would approve. They know that I am a seasoned soldier and strategist. My soldiers are loyal to me and to you. Together we could create a strong foundation for the future." "You know that is not possible, Sirrus. Do you not understand how feeble my hold is over the city? Marcus has always been the favorite. He was my father's first choice for the throne and now that he is returning to Celaenia the High Council will do all that they can to convince him to rule." "Marcus Aurelius is a soldier, Portia. He has never had political aspirations." "I know. But he is a man of honor and if the council leads him to believe that his coronation will benefit the country, I believe he will take the throne. If that happens, the only way that I can ensure my position is by marrying him." "You don't love him." "No more than he loves me. You know that my relationship with my cousin has always been tumultuous at best." Her hand gently touched his jaw. "It's politics, my love." He was silent. "Sirrus. if I marry Marcus it will be for duty, nothing more. I swear." "Do you?" "Excuse me?" "Do you swear, Portia? You have my allegiance if I have yours. Swear it and I will ensure that the homeland legions will not be opposed." His tones were urgent and Portia smiled. Words spoken were not words written. Promised murmured in passion were not the same as ones inscribed on stone tablets. "Of course I swear. I love you, Sirrus." He didn't answer as his mouth closed over hers with a growl that rumbled form deep in his throat. He kissed her as if he were eating her from the lips down, ravaging those lush lips. He bit her lower lip, sucking the full curve into his mouth as his hands slid possessively down her body, fingers biting into her delicate flesh. Portia arched up as his mouth broke away from hers and slid down the long column of her throat. His teeth marked their claim on skin that flushed beneath his attention. Sirrus groaned against her skin as he palmed her supple flesh, rolling an already taut peak between his fingers. The rosy tip ached for more and he gave her everything her body wanted when his mouth closed hot and demanding over her flesh. He sucked her into his mouth, hard enough to bruise. Sirrus had never been a demanding lover, but there was no gentleness in his features now as he tried to bring her to the brink of the same madness he found himself on. Porta's body tightened with budding pleasure. She couldn't move, held tightly in his strong hands, her body open for his enjoyment and her own. Small cries were muffled by his kiss as he repositioned his body over hers. Tingles of ecstasy made her shudder against him until she was moaning, her hands fisting in his hair trying desperately to pull him closer. Sirrus pilled back when her eyes closed. Strong fingers tangled in her hair, tugging cruelly until those gray depths were luminous with the prick of tears. "Look at me, Portia. I want you to see who you are with." "I see you, Sirrus." "You see me now but I want you to feel me every time that you lay with Marcus Aurelius. When he takes you, I want you to see my face. When you cry out, it will be my name on your lips." His hands slid through her hair down over her shoulders and arms. He pushed them roughly over her head, pinning her slender wrists with one hand. Portia tensed at the vulnerability of the position, straining against his hold, her body arching and pressing against his chest. The bruised flesh on her thighs made her wince as she tightened her legs around his hips, urging him to take her. Sirrus groaned as her legs slid around him with the softness of satin. Fingers tightened around her wrist as his cock slid deep into hot, wanting flesh that pulsed around him. Desire surged through him, desire for her and to posses her completely for himself. He wanted to erase any thoughts of another man from her mind. She belonged to him. She had sworn it and he would not allow anyone to take away his right. The love he felt for her burned more than the touch of her skin. It ate at him, consuming him. He wanted to be gentle, to show her how it could be between them always if she allowed it, but he knew she viewed gentleness as weakness. She understood only passion, her body writhing beneath his as she begged him to finish it. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 03 Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples biting into his body as she arched into him. Sirrus pressed her thighs apart roughly with his knee. He felt her slick against him, her eyes fixed on his face and glazed with passion. Pain she understood. She craved domination despite her beliefs to the contrary. He held her down, his knee probing between her thighs, feeling the heat of her pussy, dark nether curls crinkling against his flesh. Sirrus's jaw tightened as she threw her head back with a cry. She accepted his abuse when she would not accept his love, and the knowledge festered bitterly within him as he plunged deep into her body. Portia cried out when he took her with an unrestrained passion that forced their pelvic bones to grind together. The pain made her wince and brought her to life, her hips undulating beneath him to draw him deeper as her fingernails curled into her own palm. He was punishing her, trying to break her, but she knew that she had only to ask him and he would soften. His kisses would worship the skin he was bruising now with a tempo that rocked the bed against the wall in a steady pagan beat. She wanted his punishment. It fueled her hatred. It always had. Hate was the one emotion that she harnessed and used at her will, the surge of emotion through her veins making her blood sing and her heart darken. What she hated, she could destroy when the time came, without remorse or guilt. Her mouth found his, tongue toying with his as he pounded into her body. Vaguely, she realized that it did hurt and that she was bruising, but she ignored the pain as sensation flooded her body. She felt her secret muscles clench around him when he stroked into her and found the spot that made her body sing. She cried out her pleasure into his mouth, feeling him thrust harder twice more before he stiffened and cried out. He collapsed over her, their bodies clinging to one, perspiration gleaming on his skin. Sirrus's mouth brushed her temple as he released her hands. Her wrists throbbed, the imprints of his fingers left in her flesh. He rolled them over, laying on his back, her leg tangled with his as he tucked her into the curve of his body, her head resting on his chest. Portia could feel his contentment as she inhaled slowly, feeling dizzy from the release she had needed as much as he had. Sirrus had taken her and used her as he wanted, but the joining of their bodies had served to clarify her thoughts and only strengthened her resolve against him even as she nuzzled his jaw. He wasn't strong enough to stand firm against her and she could not abide weakness. His fingers tangled with hers as he raised her hand to his lips, brushing a reverent kiss over her knuckles. "Did I hurt you?" "No. You possessed what is yours. I am yours, Sirrus. No other man can change that." He pressed their joint hands over his heart, a kiss pressed to the top of her head, his words murmured into the warmth of her hair. "Then you have my loyalty and my sword, Portia. Use them well." She smiled as she reached up for his kiss, lingering until his breathing relaxed and deepened into the steadiness of sleep. She stared over his body out towards the windows as his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. I will use them well, Sirrus. Do not doubt that. I will use you as you have used me. My body is not my heart nor my mind and you shall never have power over either. This I vow and so shall it be... For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 04 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been completely revamped, so the folks who have been following the story might want to go back and re-read from Chapter 1. The idea of intrigue, betrayal and a power struggle are the still the same. However, entire new passages and parts have been added and some omitted. What was once Chapter 3 is now broken up and will be incorporated into Chapters 4 and 5. Hopefully if you enjoyed the original, you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote or leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. - - - - - "Sweet goddess Ania, hear my petitions. I need your guidance tonight." Gemella looked imploringly towards the statue of the goddess of wisdom. Desperation widened her brown eyes, hands clasped in supplication to the deity who was worshipped by women as protector and guide. The goddess Ania was represented as a warrior in full armor with an owl on her shoulder, the animal sacred to her and her followers. Flowers and offerings of gold and jewels littered the platform at the statue's feet. Heavy incense burned in stone bowls surrounding it, bringing tears to Gemella's eyes. She bowed her head, her fair hair obscuring delicate features as it brushed the marble feet of the statue. The temple was dark and cool, drafts moving across her bare shoulders, but she did not fear the cold. What chilled her heart was the task that she had been entrusted with, one which she knew would bring her death in one from or another. "Goddess Ania, hear me, for know not what to do. I have been given a task by my lady and for the first time in my life, I cannot carry out her desires. I live to serve her as her servant and guardian, but I cannot do this thing she asks." Bloodless lips trembled, the light from the candles surrounding the altar making her uncovered hair gleam with the luster of old gold. She looked ethereal in the pale blue silk gown that Portia had chosen for her to wear tonight, the lines accentuating a slender form that befitted a virgin sacrifice. For that is what I am, a woman who goes to her death for love. "I have never defied my lady before. I have been with her since she was just a child and even then she was impetuous and strong-willed. Her lady mother died when she was just a child and her father never loved her as a parent should. May the gods forgive her, for her heart is poisoned from neglect." Gemella sat back on her heels, her knees bruised from kneeling so long on the unforgiving marble. She knew that Portia would be looking for her. They were mere hours from the feast that her lady had so carefully planned in celebration for the return of Celaenia's soldiers, and she would need Gemella to help her dress and arrange her hair. Her wrath would be incurred if her desires were not met, but Gemella could not bring herself to stand and go to her. Instead she prayed for a miracle she knew would not come. Gemella had never questioned the path that the Fates had set her on. She had been born to a servant and it was only natural that she too would follow in those steps. She had served the royal family since she was little more than a girl, and had loved them all as her own. She grieved for the King of Celaenia as if she had lost a father and not just a ruler. His death had rocked her country, leaving its people wondering what their fate would be. Gemella envied them their ignorance, her fate an albatross around her neck, forcing her down into a place where she could no longer deny what she was and had always been. Disposable. "Marcus Aurelius is a good man. I remember him well. He always had a kind word for me when we crossed paths, the smile on his lips always one that always elevated if only for a moment to more than a servant. He is honest and good and Celaenia needs him so much." Her eyes glittered with tears, a single damp path trailing down her cheek. "Portia wishes his death, yet to hurt him would kill me as well. I love him though I have no right to. I have loved him all of my life and now when I am being given a chance to live the dream I have carried in my heart for all of these years, I am being asked to destroy it." Her breath caught, hands curling beneath her chin. The silence in the empty temple was oppressive, stealing her breath when no answers came. "Tell me what I am to do, Goddess Ania. I beg you, allow me just a moment of your clarity so that I may see which path I must walk. Do I follow my lady's orders or my own heart? Do I rob Celaenia of a good man who would make a great King, or do I forfeit my life for his and pray the gods protect him?" "My lady..." Gemella whirled around, startled as the silence was broken. The young woman standing in the doorway gnawed her lower lip, uncertain whether to enter or to flee. She bowed as Gemella stood slowly, her long braid swinging over her shoulder. "Forgive me for disturbing you, my lady. The Lady Portia sent me to find you. She is looking for you and wishes you to come to her right away." "Were you listening to me?" "No. I would never intrude on the thoughts of another. I heard nothing, I swear it. I swear it," she repeated, wincing as Gemella's slender fingers curled painfully into her shoulders. "Are you certain?" "Yes. I came only to deliver the Lady Portia's message." "Very well. You have completed your task then, but I need one more thing from you." "Of course my lady." Gemella's breath hitched. "Have the legions returned?" "Yes. Captain Aurelius and his men arrived a few hours ago. They are in their rooms, preparing for the feast that is to be held in their honor." "And Captain Aurelius is in his room now?" "Yes. I escorted him there myself." "Thank you, Alyss. Tell my lady I am on my way." Alyss curtsied low and then skittered off like a frightened child. When she left, she took with her Gemella's last faint hope that the gods cared for mere mortals. Gemella's eyes closed as she bowed low in front of the statue, winding her veils back around her when she straightened. The gods could not hear her nor could they help her. For the first time in her life, her fate would not be determined by someone else. Any decision made would be her own and she had never felt more lost. The walk back to the palace seemed longer than it had ever been before. Everything that had once been as familiar as the nose on her face seemed tainted now that the veil of ignorance had been yanked from her eyes. She was not the same woman who had left the palace only a few hours before and as she watched servants scuttling back and forth through the halls, everyone doing their part to avoid Portia's wrath and ensure that the feast tonight would occur without a hitch, Gemella envied them their ignorance in believing that they were safe from their lady's capricious whims. Her hand hesitated over the stair rail, her gaze lifting towards the upper landing. If she delayed much longer, Portia would punish her... Her hand slid away as she moved quickly down the stairs, shielded by her veils, anklets jingling as she ran down the hall and made a right at the end towards Marcus's room. Portia would punish her if she was late, but what did it matter anymore. Gemella had seen her death in her lady's eyes and knew it would come by decree of the Fates. She could not stop it, the fates having decided her path for her, but she needed to make her peace. Her blood pounded in her ears, a slender hand hovering over the closed door. She had only to knock, but her tongue felt as thick as wool, her mind stumbling over what she could say. Marcus wouldn't believe her. He could not possibly believe her.... She stumbled forward as the door opened, gasping as her cheek pressed against warm skin still damp from a recent bath. Startled, she looked up, her body tensing when surprised gray eyes met hers. "Oh forgive me, Lord Aurelius. I did not mean to intrude. Please do not tell my lady of my impudence. Please forgive me." She tried to lower into a curtsy, but Marcus stopped her, carefully taking her arm to keep her from dropping to the floor. He couldn't see her face, her long fair hair obscuring her like a shroud. Only the gentle lilt of her voice was familiar. Bending his head, he lifted her chin with his other hand, staring into her startled eyes. Gemella shivered in his hold like a frightened animal, ready to bolt if he released her. "You have no reason to ask forgiveness, Gemella. You have been a part of this house for years longer than I have. It lightens my heart to see a familiar face." Gemella's lips trembled as she stared up into his handsome face. She had not seen him in three years, yet her body tightened in a rush of familiarity. He looked older than she remembered, a harder man whose eyes were touched with the shadows of many battles. Yet his hands were gentle on her shoulders as he straightened her, his fingers strong and warm where they lingered a moment before falling away. "You remember my face?" "How could I forget a woman we looked upon as a playmate for so many years?" Gemella's lips curved gently into a hesitant smile, fingers curling into his arm, enjoying the play of muscle beneath. He smiled and she felt her heart soar. He was still the same man within, representing hope for Celaenia and for her. "That you are here is proof that the gods heard the prayers of Celaenia. I...We... feared that you would never return." "There where moments when I too thought that." His face darkened for a moment, lost in the memory of blood-soaked battlefields, crows feasting on the bodies of men who had died well though that knowledge would not comfort their widows. "But by the graces of the Fates I am here. I turned our legions around as soon as we received word of my uncle's death. My only regret is that we arrived too late." Gemella's expression softened in sympathy as his jaw flexed. She knew how much Marcus had loved the old king. His grief was raw, revealed in those dark eyes and the tight set of his jaw as he looked. Gemella ached to comfort him, to hold him close to her breast and offer herself as a means to forgetting the horror that they were all living. But she did not dare. "I am glad you are home," she whispered. "We need you now, so much more than before..." "What do you mean?" "I...I cannot say, Lord Aurelius." "Of course you can. You know that you have always had permission to speak freely in my presence." "It is not that. I just...Do not pay me mind, Lord Aurelius. My words are the ramblings of a servant who is tired, nothing more." Gemella turned to go, but his fingers tightened on her arm, drawing her back towards him. Her pulse quickened when her chest brushed the front of his body through her gown. Gemella gasped as her body reacted at that small contact, accentuated by the clinging fabric over her breasts. His hand brushed through her hair, settling at the back of her neck to tilt her head up, warm breath feathering over her lips. "Do not run from me, Gemella. We have known one another for too long. If there is something you fear, tell me and let me help you." "I fear many things, Lord Aurelius. I am a foolish girl." "Fear does not make us fools, Gemella. Keeping those fears within can. Tell me how to make things better for you. A beautiful woman should not have shadows in her eyes." "Some things cannot be fixed." "How do you know unless you try?" Gemella inhaled, her lower lip trembling as her eyes met his. He was giving her a chance to make things right. All she had to do was tell him all that was in her mind and her heart and sanity could return to her careening world. "Forgive me for interrupting Lord Aurelius, but my lady is looking for Gemella. She asked that she come immediately to her quarters to help her prepare for the feast." Marcus's eyes looked deep into hers waiting for her answer, but the moment was lost. The reality of their situation came crashing down, her voice hollow as she gently pulled free of Marcus's hold, moving away before he could stop her. "I am coming." She paused halfway down the hallway. Marcus was still standing in the doorway, further from her dreams than ever. Gemella smiled, the silk of her veil whispering as she let it fall back into place, her steps a petition of forgiveness to the gods for lacking the courage to follow her heart. She moved down the halls silently, returning to Portia's rooms. The door creaked open, announcing her arrival into the sanctuary of marble and carpet. The sweet scent of incense assaulted her senses as she bowed low. "I am here my lady." "Where have you been? I asked for you over an hour ago." "I was at the temple of Ania, my lady. Forgive my tardiness. I lost track of the time." Portia's lips pursed in displeasure. "Do not let it happen again." "I swear it will not." "Very well. Bring me my robes and be quick about it. The guests have already begun to arrive." "Yes my lady." Portia watched Gemella in the mirror as the young woman moved quickly through the room, gathering what she needed. Her shoulders seemed more heavily slumped in submission than normal, but it was only when the young woman was lacing the side of her gown that she remembered the situation she had yet to rectify. "Do you still have that vial I gave you?" Slender fingers trembled, tangling the laces in Portia's gown. "Yes, my lady." "Get rid of it." Portia pushed Gemella's fingers away impatiently when the girl stared. She untangled the laces herself, moving over to the mirror to check her reflection. "I... I do not understand, my lady. Do you not wish me to carry out your orders?'' "Your orders have changed. Get rid of that vial immediately. Tell no one about it." "I do not understand." "What is there for you to understand? I do not want him harmed. I have other plans for Marcus and need him very much alive to complete them." Relief tied Gemella's tongue, her hand slipping into her pocket to feel the hard silhouette of the little bottle. "You do not wish me to go to him then?" Portia waved her off impatiently, straightening her dark curls in the mirror. She frowned as she removed her diadem and replaced it with another that gleamed with the rich luster of silver against her dark hair. "Do you not want to go to him?" "I... I would do my duty." "That isn't what I asked you." "I do not know." "It is a simple enough question. Do you want to lay with Marcus tonight or not?" The memory of Marcus's strength still lingered, the touch of his hands burned into her body. To be offered all of that again without treachery was a gift from Ania, proof that the gods still protected the innocent. Gemella smiled as she bowed low. "Thank you my lady," she murmured, meeting Portia's eyes. "I would very much like to go to him tonight." Portia nodded without looking at her, preening in the mirror. "Of course you do. Go and prepare yourself then since you are of no use to me here." "Thank you my lady." "He'll be my husband soon enough. I can afford to be generous for one night. The gods know you will never have him again." Clutching the vial, Gemella hurried out of the room, her steps lighter as she ran towards the servant's exit, the sun kissing her cheeks as she emerged in the gardens. She could feel the blessings of the goddess Ania upon her as she squatted down beneath a tree, her knees sinking into the soft earth. "Thank you, goddess Ania for hearing my plea. I knew that you would not forsake your daughter in her time of need. I pledge myself your servant from this day forward, doing your will when I hear you call." Gemella leaned forward, her lips pressing to the dirt before she dug a hole with one hand, the smell of damp earth rising up to her. When it was deep enough, she opened her hand, the small bottle mocking her. "Bless the Goddess that I never have to use you." "What are you doing there?" Gemella gasped as she beheld the tall, handsome man who stood behind her, his eyes an unforgiving blue that had followed her steps too often for her comfort. "Captain Sirrus... You startled me. I am getting rid of something for my lady that she no longer has need for." "Why did you not give it to one of the maids to throw away then?" "I... My lady Portia entrusted this task to me and I dare not defy her." "Yes, that seems to be a common theme. Let me have it." "It is nothing for you to be concerned about, Captain Sirrus, truly it is just a trifle of my lady," she managed, her body tensing as he leaned over her to snatch the vial from her hand. Dizziness overwhelmed her, cheeks flushing as he popped open the cork, sniffing the tell-tale sweetness of the vial's contents. His eyes were devoid of emotion as they met her stricken face. "A trifle you say?" "Yes, Captain Sirrus. Please, I must obey my lady's wishes." "Who was this for?" "I do not know what you mean." Gemella cried out as he gripped her arm with his free hand, twisting it cruelly behind her, her knees sinking deeper into the dirt. Tears stung her eyes as he shoved the vial beneath her nose, forcing her to inhale the sickly sweet scent. "Open your mouth." "Please," she panted hoarsely, fear coiling in the pit of her stomach like ice. "Stop!" "Open your mouth!" "No, Captain Sirrus. Please stop! Please!" Sirrus showed no compassion as he stared at the struggling beauty, his eyes roaming over her gentle curves, accentuated by the dirty silk robe she wore. Gemella's breath quickened with fear as his gaze lingered on her mouth, lowering leisurely over her body, his hold on her arm tightening. "Why? If there is nothing lethal in this vial then a drink won't hurt you." Gemella shrieked as he forced her down to the ground, her slender body pinned beneath his weight. She struggled, feeling his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arms, trapping them over her head. "Please let me go," she begged, panic overtaking her. They were in a secluded part of the garden where none but Portia dared to enter without permission. No one would hear her scream. Sirrus kept his hold on her wrists, his other hand rubbing the body of the vial against her closed mouth. "Tell me who this was meant for and I will spare you. If you do not answer you will be charged with treason against the throne and your lady." "No! I love my lady. I would never harm her." "Tell me then who this was meant for." Tears streamed down Gemella's cheeks, her skin hot and flushed from the struggle. She shook her head from side to side, lips tightly pressed together as he tried to shove the neck of the bottle between them. The liquid touched her mouth and she cried out. "She told me to do it!" "Who told you?" "The Lady Portia," she sobbed, the emotion shaking her slender form. "She wanted me to give it to Lord Aurelius tonight when I give myself to him, but she changed her mind this afternoon. She does not want him harmed. She intends to marry him and name him her consort to gain favor over the people of Celaenia." For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 04 "She told you all this?" "Yes, by the Goddess Ania I swear! I would never commit treason, Captain Sirrus, but I cannot defy my lady. She misspoke in a fit of temper and tried to rectify it. Please do not tell her what I have said." "You are accusing the future Queen of high treason. If this is true, the High Council must know about it. You will have to come forward." "I cannot! No one will believe me. It will be my death!" "As your act of treachery would have been the death of the people's favorite." "Please have mercy. I simply did as my lady asked." The young captain said nothing, watching as her breasts rose and fell beneath the thin silk with every ragged breath. She had stopped struggling, her face hidden in the soft flesh of her upraised arm. This was the woman Portia had entrusted a mission to; an insignificant servant girl who betrayed her as soon as her own life was threatened. He felt a wave of anger at Portia's stupidity, the emotion soon swallowed by a deeper rage. Portia had wanted Marcus spared to be her consort. He swallowed, murderous red haloing his vision as he looked down at the crying girl. Long fingers gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. "What did she tell you to do with the vial?" "She told me to get rid of it." "Have you told anyone else?" "No! I obeyed my lady's orders. No one knows of this." "Good. You will keep it that way." He paused, his gaze lingering on the soft curve of her breasts revealed by the fabric that had been torn in the scuffle. Gemella cried out as his fingers tangled in the low neckline of her gown, ripping suddenly downwards despite her shriek of fear and embarrassment. The silk split apart with a wet sound like flesh tearing, baring lush, rose-tipped breasts to his gaze. Gemella blanched, her skin growing pale, then hot and flushed as she struggled again, trying to cover herself. "No!" "Scream all you like. No one will hear you." "Captain Sirrus stop! Please!" Gemella pulled one arm free from him, slapping him with all the strength she had, hearing his roar of displeasure and pain just an instant before he returned the gesture, slapping her face with much more strength than she had. Her ears stung with force of the blow, feeling disoriented as he struggled with his pants to free himself. He was so much stronger than she was, her mind spinning as spots danced before her eyes. She wanted to lay there and let him do with her what he would, but she could not. Her body had been meant for one man. The Goddess had decreed it. She could not submit. Tears streaked down her battered cheeks, her body writhing as she squirmed beneath him, managing to get one slender leg free. Her knee caught him hard in the groin, his groan of pain declaring her momentary victory. He fell to the side, clutching his body as she struggled to her feet to flee. Her torn gown fell around her shoulders, slim fingers desperately gripping it to keep it from baring her nakedness to the air. A roar of anger came from behind her a moment before she felt herself tumbled to the ground again, the wind knocked out of her. Her vision was blurred with pain, her lungs screaming as Sirrus pushed her head harder into the ground, the earth filling her nostrils, smothering her as she hungrily gasped for breath. She didn't struggle when Sirrus pushed her torn gown up to her hips to reveal long creamy thighs and a curved backside he pushed higher into the air. Heat emanated from his flesh as he pressed harder against her, his arms encasing her entire body. Gemella could see his hands pressed over hers on the ground, mercilessly pinning her. Sirrus stared down at her naked beauty, his hand rubbing roughly over the silky triangle of pale hair that covered her woman's mound, pushing between her thighs to part her nether lips with a cruelty that made her cry out sharply. She was dry as a desert, her flesh resistant to fingers that would not be deterred. He had experienced rejection at Portia's hands but Gemella, a mere servant girl, would not defy him. He owned every inch of her, but it wasn't her silky thighs he spread with hands shaking from lust. It wasn't her sweet flesh that he forced his straining cock into, relishing the moment when he pushed past that thin resistance and heard her cry her pain to the heavens. Gemella's sobs stirred him into a deeper frenzy, his fingers biting into her wrists as he thrust his body into hers in an unrelenting rhythm, feeling her flesh tear from his attentions. Her blood eased his way, slickening her virgin passage. "You will not play me like a puppet, Portia. You will marry me, not Marcus Aurelius. Do you understand me? Do you hear me?!" "Yes!," Gemella screamed, feeling his body jerk into hers once and then again before he roared out Portia's name, filling her body with a flood of heat that left her defeated, aching beneath him. Sirrus's breath was ragged as he looked down at the sobbing woman beneath him. He had been lost in his rage, punishing her the way he could never harm the woman who haunted his every thought. Portia had damned him, just as she damned everything she touched. Sirrus sat back on his heels, tucking his wet, deflating cock back into his pants. Gemella's wrists were bruised and bloody when he let her go, getting to his feet. She made no move to stand, curling into a fetal position when he tossed the vial down beside her. "You tell no one of this. You will go to Marcus Aurelius tonight and you will serve him a drink with that draught in it. If he still lives tomorrow morning, you will die before the High Council for treason against the crown. Do not dare to defy me. No one will believe your word against mine." He straightened his clothing as he walked away, turning back for a moment to look at her with her arms curled over her head, her body bruised and broken, all for the sake of the empire. Gemella lay quiet, waiting till his footsteps faded away. She didn't know how long she stayed there, her body aching from the assault that had torn away her last vestige of innocence. Every breath burned her lungs like living fire, her legs wobbly as she forced herself to her feet. She stumbled forward only a few feet before she fell to her knees again, the vial clutched in one hand. It mocked her, offering her an escape from everything. She had only to drain the contents and she would be free of this world and the pain loyalty had caused her. The heavens opened, rain drenching her battered body. The silk molding itself to her body, her screams lost in a clap of thunder, the sky illuminated as she cursed the fates and the gods above, their tears coming too late for her. She had been damned and the strands of her fate woven. She would do her duty as was expected of her. All for the sake of the empire. Sorry it took so long! Don't forget to vote. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 05 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been completely revamped, so the folks who have been following the story might want to go back and re-read from Chapter 1. The idea of intrigue, betrayal and a power struggle are the still the same. However, entire new passages and parts have been added and some omitted. What was once Chapter 3 is now broken up and will be incorporated into Chapters 4, 5 and 6. Hopefully if you enjoyed the original, you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote or leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. * The sudden death of Celaenia's King had shocked the country and with no heir named, times were strained. Portia knew that whispers were already starting in dark corners about political upheaval, putting her at the center of a very dangerous power struggle. Her pieces had to be put into play carefully, no possibility dismissed as trivial. Trust was a precious gift she could not afford even with those who voiced their support of her. Friends held favor with her only as long as they proved useful. She had to ensure her position, and had begun her game with Commodus and Sirrus. She would continue with the High Council, having set a time for a meeting with them tomorrow where she intended to announce her plans to wed Marcus to gain their confidence and approval. They were a bunch of doddering old men, but if she could gain their support she would have the city in her hand. Gray eyes moved over the great hall, lingering on the couples dancing and partaking in the pleasures that the soldiers had been denied for the three years they had been away. She had orchestrated an elaborate feast in honor of Marcus's homecoming to gain the favor of the legions and the people. Food and drink had been provided for everyone in the city, the sound of people rejoicing in the streets was heard through the open windows. Inside the palace, the musicians were playing, the wine flowed freely. The subdued ambiance which had lingered since the death of the king was replaced by the hopeful celebration at the legions' return and the dawn of a new era for Celaenia. Portia had encouraged a sense of luxury, presiding over the festivities with more confidence than she felt. There were many who smiled at her, yet she knew they silently doubted her ability to lead the Empire. Celaenia was at war, though it was a quiet, internal warfare. Tonight was only the first of many battles, which Portia planned to win. Failure was not an option when there was so much at stake. "Things are going well, Portia. You have surprised me." Portia glanced at Commodus as he appeared at her side. Her eyes narrowed at the amusement he seemed to find at her expense, but she shrugged gracefully. "I will take that as a compliment Commodus. Having seen so very many years in this world, surprising you seems quite the feat." She smiled, sipping from her chalice, enjoying a moment of pleasure in his irritation. "I am pleased. Things are proceeding according to plan. Sirrus is garnering support for me within the city's legions. This feast tonight will help to solidify that support, showing my respect for the military and the hardships they have experienced fighting for this country. With the legions' full support, I am one step closer to complete control over Celaenia." "You are becoming quite the politician, Portia. I'm pleased to see that you are finding new ways to expand your hold. Your charms are many, but I doubt that even you can spread wide enough to service an entire country." Portia's cheeks flood with color as she looked at the old man who smiled through his insult. Her palm stung, nails cutting into the tender flesh as she curled one hand into a fist at her side. "I live for my country, Commodus. Fortunately I am young enough to have the luxury of enjoying her and her triumphs for many more years. Not all can say that." "Very true, Portia." He looked amused as he placed his hand on her elbow to guide her away from the crowd to speak to her privately for a moment. They stood by a pillar apart from the crowd in view of the door. He spoke quietly. "I spoke to Julian and Gregorius of the High Council today. They doubt your ability to rule alone, but they can sway the others if they are properly convinced. They have requests of their own to make." "I have no doubt they do, but I have several requests as well. It will be interesting to see what agreement we come to." Commodus nodded, his gaze moving throughout the crowded room. He seemed to vibrate with restless energy. "I have set up private meetings tomorrow with trusted members of my council. They know of my support of you and they are in support of me." "Interesting. I too have a meeting scheduled. The High Council wishes to know what my next step will be and I have decided to announce my intention to wed Marcus." Disbelief flooded the old man's face, a grizzled brow arching. "You surprise me, my dear. Marcus has been in the city for less than a day and you have already begun extending your web." "Is that not what you wanted? The High Council has already made their happiness at his return evident. If Marcus expressed a desire for the throne, they would be in support of it. As his wife they will be in support of me as well." "Very true. I must admit I am surprised that Marcus so readily accepted your proposal." The statement hung, Portia's silence making him glance over at her. She was looking at the dancers; color high in her cheeks, lips pressed tightly together. "You have not asked him have you?" "I have not yet seen my cousin, Commodus. But I am confident that he will agree that it is the best possible solution." "Confidence is a fine quality, Portia, but at times it is simply a word for stupidity." "I know my cousin better than you do, Commodus. Marcus desires the happiness of the country and its people. If he believes that Celaenia will benefit from his acceptance of the throne, his duty will leave him no other option." "If I were a gambling man, I would take that wager, but as it is, I will settle for learning of his answer." Portia's reply was cut off by the sound of trumpets. Silence swept over the crowds and Portia turned slowly, tensing when she saw Marcus step into the main hall. For a moment, no one moved; all eyes were on the serious man who stood a head taller than most others in the room. Marcus arched a brow, feeling the weight of all that he had run from for so long settling upon his shoulders. Portia inhaled. "He seems a different man from the one in my memories." "Three years is a long time, Portia. I am sure he feels the same." "I did not picture him this way. He reminds me of a portrait I saw once of my father." "He is like your father in spirit as well as appearance. The late king was a great man of the people Marcus Aurelius could be greater. That is why it is so important for you to gain his support." "Mm hmm... I do not know if he will even have time for me. He has not been here for even five minutes and already every female eye is on him." "I am sure you will find ways to distract him. Tantalize him with your scintillating conversational skills perhaps." Commodus smiled when her eyes narrowed and Portia cursed herself for allowing him affect her. She looked away from the old man, focusing instead on the younger one. Gone was the young cousin who had grown up with her in the gardens of the palace. In his place was a man with the wisdom of a soldier and infinite possibility for greatness if he would just allow it. "What if he will not listen?" "Do you have so little faith in your abilities?" "I have little faith in men." Portia's eyes met his as she handed him her chalice, then moved towards Marcus. His gaze followed her approach, as did all eyes in the hall. Her steps whispered across the floor, a smile curving her lips as she laid a hand gently on his arm. "The gods have answered our prayers with your safe return, Marcus. I cannot tell you how many nights I waited for news of you. When we received word from messengers about the ambush on the borders of Frejia, I feared the worst." She smiled, tears filling her eyes becomingly. "We hold this feast tonight in your honor and in the honor of all of the men who have sacrificed so much for Celaenia. It is they who are the backbone of this country and we are all more grateful than words can express. Welcome home." "We are glad to be home, my Lady. We have been away from these walls too long and relish the opportunity to be reunited with those who felt our absence the most. Our only regret is that we could not be here to protect our King from the tragedy that befell him. But our loyalty is now and always will be to Celaenia." The words were perfect, the exchange exactly what should have occurred between cousins so long separated, but Portia felt a chill slide down her spine when she met Marcus's eyes. The people surrounding them were oblivious, applause crawling across Portia's skin as she leaned up to brush her lips across her cousin's cheek. His skin smelled clean, warm beneath her mouth. She pulled back, smiling graciously at the crowd around them. "Please, let the musicians play on and the festivities continue. Feast and thank the gods for the return of our men and for the many other blessings bestowed upon us. I wish no unhappiness tonight. We have grieved and now we must be strong and attempt to move on with a new hope for Celaenia." She glanced back at Marcus, sliding her arm through his. "Will you please excuse us for a moment? I have not seen my cousin for three years and we have much to speak of." Marcus followed her lead, threading their way through the crowd towards the balcony where they had some privacy. Portia held onto him until they were alone, her fingers sliding away from the strong muscle of his arm when the sounds of the feast faded behind them. For a moment she did not know what to say, feeling Marcus's eyes on her, comfortable with the same silence that made her restless. "You look well." "As do you. The gods haves smiled their graces on you, Portia. You remind me of my lady aunt in that gown. She wore something similar once at a feast when we were children." "My mother was a beautiful woman. If I am anything like her, my pleasure cannot be fully expressed." She paused. "Do you remember her well?" "Of course. She was a kind, loving woman and the only mother I remember. I was only a boy when my parents left this world. Your mother and father are the faces I see in my earliest memories." He paused, leaning against the railing of the balcony. His face was cast in shadow but Portia heard a faint hitch for a moment in those deep tones. "The loss of your father is one that I feel deeply, Portia. He was a man I respected and his death is a tragedy. I was told that it was Caius who took his life. I could not believe it to be true." Portia shifted beneath his scrutiny when those gray eyes swept over her. He seemed to look through her, as if he knew the truth she tried to bury so deeply. "It was him. I was in the habit of checking on father in the evenings before I went to bed. That night, I saw Caius leaning over the bed with a pillow between his hands. I screamed and ran. He came after me but the guards caught him." She swallowed as she looked into the night. "I would not believe him capable of it myself had I not seen the proof in my father's sightless eyes..." Her own eyes closed, the sting of tears blocked. She heard Marcus move before his hand touched her arm. His palms were warm and calloused, offering a strength that she craved to harness for her purposes. "Was he tried by the High Council?" "No... He was a traitor, Marcus. I could not allow him to remain in our midst." "The Council maintains order, Portia. Every man, woman and child in this city is guaranteed a fair trial. Those rules are the backbone of all that Celaenia stands for. No one is above the law, Portia." "Do not quote Celaenian rules to me, Marcus. You have been away from home for many years and it is you, not I, who ran from the responsibility that comes along with the throne." The breeze coming off of the sea could not cool the smothering heat of her anger, coloring her words with the sharpness of a knife. "He was guilty and I did what was necessary!" "I have no doubt of that." Portia glanced up at him. His gaze was steady, piercing her clear to her soul. Those gray eyes were so much like hers and in them she saw her hopes of a union being dashed like a boat upon the cliffs of Celaenia. Marcus would not bend. She could see it in his face, felt it in his arms when his hands slid to her shoulders to bring her closer and hold her in place. "Are you insinuating that you do not believe what I tell you?" "I would never dare to contradict your version of history, Portia," he responded smoothly. "I simply find it difficult to believe that no one heard my uncle cry out for help. Guards have always been posted at his private chambers and yet they heard nothing." "Caius was my father's servant for many years. Few were more trusted. No one believed he would ever harm my father." "And yet..." His fingers tipped her chin up, gently tightening. "He was the one who took the life of my king." "He was my king too!" "But he is dead now and you are free to do what you please..." Marcus murmured the words, his gaze dropping to her mouth. He felt the faint tremor of her flesh beneath his hand, his jaw tightening when she closed her eyes. He had his suspicions before, but the momentary flash of emotion in her expression confirmed her guilt. Grief threatened to overwhelm him, the death of the only father he had ever known, weighing upon his shoulders. Had he not resisted when his uncle offered him the crown all those years ago, he would be alive now. Silky hair brushed his knuckles as Portia broke away, stepping back to put distance between them. She could feel his eyes on her, following her every move as men so often did, but instead of desire she felt the panic of a rat caught in a cage. "Enough of this talk. This is a feast of celebration for your safe return. We will not darken it by talk of these sad things." "Grief is a natural emotion, Portia." "I do not have the luxury of grief, Marcus. I have a country to rule." "Ah yes. I heard of your impending coronation. You are marrying Marius of Syantix as your father wanted. May the gods smile upon your joy." Portia bit her tongue as a young servant appeared with a tray and two wine goblets. Portia waited till the young woman had allowed them their privacy once more, before offering Marcus one, keeping the other for herself. "I do not remember you taking pleasure in mocking me, Marcus. These past three years have changed you." "I am not mocking you, Portia. I am congratulating your success in finally achieving a place on the throne as you always wanted. This time of tragedy is also one of triumph." The sounds of joy and excitement rang through the great hall, but between her and Marcus there was only a long moment of silence. Commodus had been a fool to believe that Marcus could be turned. She would not make the same mistake. "Do you think that I am not ready to lead a country, Marcus?" "It does not matter what I believe, my lady." "Yes it does. Everyone believes you are the better choice. They whisper about your greatness. Listen," she said, curling a hand around her ear. "They're saying it now. All hail Marcus, the future of Celaenia." She smiled bitterly. "If you but asked for the throne, the High Council would tear the crown out of my hands on the day of my coronation." "I do not want the crown, Portia." "That's just it." Her eyes were luminous in the dark as she looked up at him, her expression pained as her hands curled into fists on the stone balcony. "You do not even want what I have worked all of my life towards achieving." She heard the bitterness in her own voice as she lifted her chalice, lifting it in a toast. "To all of your potential which you fail to recognize, Marcus." He remained silent as she took a healthy sip before setting the cup down, her gaze lost in the burgundy liquid. "I recognize my own potential. I have only to make others realize it as well. I cannot do that by marrying Marius. He is a stranger to this country and will not have the interests of our people as his first priority." Marcus said nothing, his own chalice left on the stone wall between them. She wasn't looking at him, leaving him free to study the delicate lines of her face and form. In the three years that he had been away, his cousin had become a beautiful woman with stars in her eyes and honey in her voice. The gods had blessed her with so much, mocking her perfection by poisoning her heart. "Your father would not have chosen him for you if he did not believe that it would be a good match for you, Portia." "He was the choice of my father, Marcus, a man who was slowly losing his mind. All of my life, people have made decisions for me, but this is by far the most unjust. How can I be expected to love and obey a man I have never met? I am no different than any other woman. I want to fall in love with a man who will be my compliment, not my keeper." Her finger spun around the edge of her cup, her tones drifting towards him as soft as a dream. "Marry me Marcus." The silence dragged, his expression reflecting disbelief, broad shoulders tense. He had known his cousin all of his life and looked at her now as if he had never seen her before. Portia allowed her expression to soften, his unease apparent as she moved towards him. "Say something." "What do you expect me to say?" "Anything you wish. Does my offer shock you so much?" "I have not seen you for three years and you ask me this of me? What are you after, Portia?" "Nothing but the happiness of our people. They are yours as much as they are mine. We could rule all of Celaenia together and make this country something even greater than my father envisioned." "Your ambitions blind you, Portia." "My ambitions are what fuel me forward when nothing else can, Marcus. This is not just about my desires. It is about the betterment of Celaenia. Think about it." Marcus didn't move back when she closed the distance between them, her touch as light as the breeze ruffling his hair. She was baiting him. He knew it as clearly as if the gods themselves had told him. He was a means to an end, just as her father had been. The sweetness of her perfume was meant to seduce, her lips the lush fruit that would send a man to the ends of the earth for another taste. "Why play games, Portia?" he murmured. "You do not love me." "It's been three years, Marcus. We are virtual strangers to one another now. We could learn to love one another like man and woman instead of cousins. You could have what so many other men desire and are denied. I would give it freely to you..." For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 05 Her fingers curled around his as she pressed his hand to her breast. Her flesh was warm and supple beneath her thin silk gown and she smiled when his eyes darkened with desire. He looked younger when uncertainty filled his eyes and Portia's free hand gently brushed against the side of his face. "Portia..." "Shh. Just touch me, Marcus. Allow yourself to imagine for a moment that what you feel now could be yours always. I know that you're no untried boy, but we could learn about passion together. We could have it all if we work together..." She breathed out when she slid his hand beneath the cloth, fingers finding flesh even softer than the silk. Her hand tightened around his, helping him lift the smooth weight of her creamy breast free of her gown, bringing the tempting flesh to his sight. It was a generous globe, perfect and creamy with a rosy tip that hardened when his thumb stroked over it. Portia moaned, her head tipping back in pleasure when he pinched the supple flesh surrounding it, making her body throb with pleasure. They were in full view of anyone who happened past, but Portia didn't allow her gaze to leave his. It was a delicate spell that she had woven and she knew the hold was fragile. "Feel how like silk my skin is Marcus. You could have it wrapped around you every evening if you wish." "Silk would cost me less than such follies with you." "Silk alone cannot give you the pleasure I can." Her hand slid gently down his chest, finding him hard and ready. She smiled when he groaned with pleasure, her fingers stroking him to full readiness beneath his clothing. His breathing deepened, his hand stilling her movements. "You're playing games with me, Portia" "This isn't about games, Marcus. It's about what is best for the country. Together we would be unstoppable. To rule jointly is our duty, but we can still find pleasure in it." His other hand moved abruptly, curling around her neck. She was pliant as he tilted her head up so that his breath could move over her mouth. "You forget that I have known you since you were a child barely past my knees, Portia," he whispered against her lips. "You have mastered the art of manipulation. You watch people for their weaknesses as if they were pieces of fruit you are considering plucking." Portia smiled, her tongue peeking out to delicately trace the outline of his lips. His pulse quickened and she pressed herself more firmly into his hand. "I plan more than just plucking for you, Marcus. Think of all that could be if you just allow it. You have nothing to fear from me." "As my uncle had nothing to fear?" The question hung and Portia stiffened as if she had been slapped. She could not find words. Marcus untwined her hands from around his neck, ignoring the throbbing in his loins. She was still as beautiful and desirable as she had been a moment ago, but as her face tightened with rage, he felt his sanity returning. Portia flushed with rage as he stepped back, struggling to regain her composure. Her breasts rose and fell as she straightened her robes, determined not to allow him to know how much he had rattled her though her hands trembled. The breeze swirled strands of hair around her face and her cheeks burned with anger against her hand as she pushed them back. The festivities continued inside but neither of them would find reprieve in the lilt of the flutes that urged merriment. "We all have things to fear Marcus," she whispered. "When we stop fearing, we become foolish and that is one thing I am not." "Nor I." "Indeed..." She inhaled, forcing a smile which didn't touch her eyes. "Now that we have that out of the way, I have a gift waiting for you in your bedchambers. She's quite lovely. Her cheeks color when she says your name." "So quickly you shift your dream to another?" "I am a patient woman, Marcus Aurelius. Eventually you will come to your senses." "I cannot be swayed by sex alone, Portia." "I offered you much more than that. You could have the kingdom." "That is your dream not mine." "Tell me what you want, Marcus, and I will make sure you have it." "What I want cannot be measured in power of wealth, Portia." "Then tell me of your dreams ... Do not walk away from me, Marcus," Marcus paused in his steps, turning at the door to look at her. Shadows played over his face, shielding the expression in his eyes. "The woman meant for me would not have to ask. Good night Portia." He disappeared through the doorway and she tried to calm herself. No other man could raise her temper the way he could. His calm was the flame that set her ablaze, her skin tingling with energy that had been urged and left unsatisfied. She jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Commodus's brow arched in question and she felt her irritation growing. She had encountered defeat and she was in no mood to tolerate the old priest or his gloating. "What do you want?" "So cordial, Portia. You truly epitomize all that a Queen should be." "My patience wears thin tonight, Commodus. Tell me what brings you to haunt my steps and then be gone." "I saw Marcus leaving but he did not look like a man who had just had his dreams handed to him." "He was tired. It is his first night back in Celaenia. We have plenty of time to convince him that taking the throne as my consort would be the best decision for the country." "I take it then that he does not believe it is the best decision for him." "You should never assume, Excellency. It makes you look pompous." "Perhaps, but I would rather be pompous than foolish by supporting the wrong candidate for the throne. Get your thoughts in order Portia. I know your preferred methods of persuasion, but Marcus cannot be won over simply by the allure of your body. Celaenia needs a Queen, not a whore." Portia lashed out before she could think, her hand striking his cheek a crack of sound. Commodus's head whipped to the side with the force of the blow, color rising in his leathery face as her palm throbbed. "How dare you?! I am the future Queen of this country and you will, by the gods, show me the proper respect!" "Respect is earned, not freely given, Portia." "As your Queen it is within my right to demand it." Commodus nodded his gray head slowly, offering a slight bow from the neck. "My apologies, my lady. You are right that it is within the rights of a queen of Celaenia to demand anything she wishes." He bowed again, then moved towards the door. He turned back in the doorway, mirroring Marcus's earlier stance. "But, you are not Queen yet and it is a very long journey to the throne. Much can change." His robes flapped as he walked away, leaving Portia trembling with barely contained rage. She felt feverish, overwhelmed by her foolishness. She had been so close to success, to achieving every dream she had ever had and now she could hear the laughter of the gods in the wind, mocking her failure, her weakness. Her eyes closed, knuckles going white as she made her vow to the mocking stars and heavens above. I will not fail. As the gods are my witness, this is not the end, only the beginning. I will not allow my enemies to defeat me. I will triumph and so will Celaenia, even if I must lie, cheat or kill for her. When it is over, they will all regret ever doubting me, and it will be my turn to laugh. As the gods are my witness, this is not the end... For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 06 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. The original story which was previously posted on Literotica has been completely revamped, so the folks who have been following the story might want to go back and re-read from Chapter 1. Hopefully if you enjoyed the original, you will still enjoy this one. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote and leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. For the Sake of an Empire Chapter 06 "Marry me, Marcus, and take the throne ... All this could be yours if you only allow it" "Marcus, my son, do not break the heart of an old man. Take the throne. It is yours by right. Kings are made, not born. They are forged through battles, tears and pain." "Captain, Celaenia needs you now more than ever, the country mourns and is on the brink of toppling without a leader." "Marry me, Marcus, marry me..." "Enough!" Marcus shouted to the sky. The waves of the ocean crashed upon the shore, breaking against the rocks beneath his balcony. The sound was full of angry wrath; mirroring the rage he welcomed tonight to drown his grief though even the roar of the ocean could not completely silence his thoughts. His hands, which had shed so much blood in the name of Celaenia, were darker now, stained with his uncle's blood. He had murdered him as surely as Portia had, with neglect instead of brute force. His arms corded with tension, his head dropping between them to look down at the craggy surfaces of the rock cliffs. Ships had been dashed to pieces against those cliffs, and city legends claimed that on moonless nights, the spirits of those lost walked along the rocks moaning their fate. Marcus imagined his uncle's spirit among them, a finger pointed in accusation. Marcus rubbed one hand over his face, his skin leathery and creased with grief. His encounter with his cousin had drained him, knocking down emotional boundaries that had long been in place, and now the voices of those he failed calling to him from the mist, reminding him of his losses. "I did not know that my absence would bring about this fate. I swear to you, your death will go unpunished, Uncle. I give you my oath as a man, a solider..." His voice cracked. "...and as your son." He stiffened when a knock came at the door, the sound resonating through his aching skull. He ignored it, hoping whoever was on the other side would leave him in peace, his attention focused on the jagged rocks turned white by the frothy waves. A noise from the chamber behind him distracted him from his tumultuous thoughts, tension strumming through his broad shoulders. Through the billowing curtain, he caught a glimpse of a figure moving within the room. He watched as the trespasser moved quietly through the room, searching among the possessions near his bed. Marcus silently drew his sword, eyes narrowing as he cautiously moved through the whisper of the silken curtain and into the room. He stopped short when the razor sharp tip of his sword nudged gently at the hollow of the throat of the intruder. Her face and form were gently obscured by the sheer shift and veil she was wearing, the generous curves of her body backlit by the light of the dozens of candles that had been scattered throughout his room. Startled eyes that could easily have been any color, met his through the gossamer material shot through with silver thread, the delicate fabric accentuating slender curves that darkened into mystery between her thighs. "What is this?" "A gift from my lady, Lord Aurelius." "Who is your lady?" "The lady Portia." Marcus met her eyes, while the blade's tip continued to rest steadily against the fluttering pulse in her throat, gentle vibrations moving through the steel. He saw her catch her breath, but her hands remained loose at her sides. She made no move to protect herself as the flat edge of the blade traced its way down the center of her body, caressing the heavy lace at the hem of the veil to gently lift it an inch. "I wish to see what Portia would consider a suitable gift for her beloved cousin. Remove the veil." The fabric rippled as she exhaled, her gaze holding his as she obediently lifted the material to reveal lips that were gently parted, rosy where they had swollen on one side. Fair strands of hair waved around her face to the floor, accentuating the swollen line of her jaw, blue eyes swimming in skin that had already begun to bruise. Marcus's eyes narrowed, concern overriding his surprise. He dropped his sword, closing the distance between them quickly. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, his hold gentling when she winced. "Gemella... what happened to you? Who did this?" "It does not matter." "Of course it does. Tell me who did this." "I cannot say, Lord Aurelius. I..." She trailed off, her voice wavering. Her lips trembled at the memory of Sirrus's hands on her body, his body forcing her to his will. "Please do not ask me." "Gemella, it is my duty to protect the people of Celaenia." "Please forgive me, Lord Aurelius, I cannot say ... but he haunts my every thought," Her breath caught, fingers curling into his arm. "He did things to me...used his fingers and hurt me...I can still feel him, forcing me, making me pray he would just kill me and be done with it..." In supplication, Gemella fell to her knees before Marcus. Her hair caressed his feet as her head dipped lower, her forehead touched to the tops of his sandaled feet in a gesture of complete submission. "Do not send me back to my lady. She told me I was to come to you and I cannot disobey her." "Does she know of this?" "No... No one knows of it. Please, Lord Aurelius. I cannot return without completing my task." Tears choked her voice, shoulders tensing when his hand moved beneath her chin with more gentleness than he had shown his lady cousin earlier. "I will not take you against your will, Gemella." "She wishes me to give your pleasure. I have to do as she asks!" "Shhh," Marcus soothed, his other hand resting on the side of her face to cradle her head between his hands. "What occurs in this room is none of your lady's concern. I will not send you back if you wish to stay. You've been viciously used by someone and I will not do the same. Shh. It's all right. You're safe now." Gemella's eyes widened when he caressed the curve of her jaw with the rough pad of his thumb, a gentle contrast to the harsh handling that she had experienced earlier. Her body had been violated, her heart torn asunder and she hated the fear that froze her in place, rendering her incapable of running or yielding completely. She was a pawn caught in the middle of a game where rules and fairness meant nothing. If they had, the gods would not have abandoned her to the dark machinations of Portia and Sirrus. She would not be here, in the room of the man she had loved for all of her life, ordered to do what she would have freely done; surrendering her body and her heart, indulging in every dream she had ever allowed herself. Her throat swelled with emotion, long lashes hastily lowering so that he would not see the glittering touch of tears in her eyes. If she failed, her life was forfeit. She knew that to be the truth as surely as she knew the sun would still rise and set when she ceased to exist. Sirrus and Portia had each in their way, reduced her to nothing and yet Marcus would not allow her to wallow in her insignificance. He wanted to save her, but what could he save? She was already dead. Her strings had been cut the moment she walked into his room, the work of the fates done. She was trapped between the cruel whims of both the gods and man. "I am not going to harm you. Come," he repeated gently, his hand slipping beneath her elbow to bring her to her feet. He could feel the tremors sliding through her slender body, her skin cold to his touch. Gemella allowed him to guide her over to the bed, moving like a shadow. Marcus lifted her gently, coaxing her arms around his neck before he laid her back against the welcoming comfort of the fresh sheets. Her pulse skipped when his hand smoothed through her curls, pushing them back away from her face, his fingertips lingering on the bruised flesh of her temple. She had been brutalized by someone, her expression as lost as those of women he had seen in ransacked villages, their bodies used and discarded. His jaw tightened at the idea of her pain, but he did not press her for the moment. He intended to continue investigating the matter, swearing to himself to bring to justice whoever had used her so cruelly. The laws that governed the city applied to all, protecting the innocent and punishing the unjust. If Celaenia stopped fighting for the people who were her heart, she would fall into the darkness and shadows. Marcus shifted, his arm curling around her to bring her to his side, her head cradled against his chest. He could hear her heart beat like a frightened bird in her chest trying to escape, her small hand curled into a fist on his belly. She was a cord of tension, reminding her of the other woman whose memory still haunted him, the hatred and passion in her eyes burned across his soul. Marcus's eyes closed. "Rest now. You are safe here. No one will harm you, I swear it." "Promises made cannot always be kept, Lord Aurelius." How many promises I have made that have been broken... I hear their voices in my mind, begging answers and I have none to give... "Have you ever known me to not keep my word?" She shook her head, tears squeezing form beneath her tightly closed eyelids, leaving a trail along his clothing. "Then trust me to keep my promise. You're safe with me. Close your eyes and rest now. Tomorrow we can talk." "I cannot. When I close my eyes, I see his face..." "Whose face?" "I cannot say but he haunts me..," Her breath caught, fingers curling into his arm. "He did things to me...used his fingers and hurt me...I can still feel him, forcing me, making me pray he would just kill me and be done with it..." Her words ended in a sob, her face buried against Marcus's body. His arms tightened around her as he sat up, pulling her into his lap to rock her as he had once rocked his son when night terrors plagued him. He murmured nonsense words soothingly into her ear, his chin resting on her head as she cried. Every sound hardened his against the man who had destroyed her spirit. "He cannot hurt you anymore. Listen to my voice, Gemella. I do not know who used you so cruelly, but while I have breath in me, it will not happen again. I swear that to you." "He wants you dead..." Marcus stiffened at her soft revelation. "Who?" "I cannot name him, Lord Aurelius, for he sees and hears all. Celaenia is not safe anymore. Even the shadows turn against us now, waiting for moments of weakness." "Are you saying someone plots against the crown?" She nodded, her lips brushing damply against his collarbone. "The King's death was not an accident... I can say no more, but your life is in danger. Mine is forfeit as are the lives of anyone who stands in the way." She sniffed, watery eyes meeting his. His face, scarred and hardened from battle, was handsome, chiseled, and tight with passion. A shadow of growth from a day's beard was rough upon his cheeks, abrading her palm gently when she tentatively stroked it. True to his word, he did not touch her, allowing her to explore everything she had been denied. "It was supposed to be you," she murmured, a tear appearing in the corner of her eye, caught on the tips of her eyelashes like a tiny crystal to sparkle in the candlelight. She blinked and Marcus watched it slide down her cheek and become caught at the corner of her mouth. His finger gently traced the damp path, wiping it away. "It was supposed to be you," she repeated. "When he used me, I tried to imagine your hands on my body, teaching me about pleasure and not pain. "No woman should be mistreated, Gemella. Passion is not pain." Marcus turned her face to his, his thumb rubbing along the delicate line of her jaw. She dipped her head, pressing a tentative kiss to his fingers, the saltiness of her tears slipping between her lips. She felt him tense, but he made no move to stop her as she "What do you want from me?" "Erase him from my mind and make me forget. "Gemella," he protested. "Lord Aurelius, please." Marcus' shoulders stiffened as her lips hesitantly brushed over his. He had never taken an unwilling woman and after what had been done to his wife and his son, the callings of his body came a far second after the haunting memories in his heart. He could still see Aurelia in his mind's eyes, her lips parted in a silent scream that he never heard, eyes wide and vacant. "I cannot. Forgive me, but I cannot do this." Gemella was silent for a moment, her gaze cast down. She could see the tension thrumming through his body, his belly a knot beneath her hand. She knew his pain, could feel it in her core more deeply than the physical aches that lingered. The whole kingdom knew the story of Marcus's wife and they prayed to the gods to give her and her son peace in the Eternal Gardens. They should have prayed more for the man who had been left behind. Her expression softened when she looked up at him. "I know you do not love me." Slender fingers lay gently over his mouth when he began to protest. "Shh no. I know you do not. I am not asking you to love me, Lord Aurelius, simply comfort me. Allow me just a moment of what might have been if I had been born to another fate. Please," she murmured. "You have been cruelly used, Gemella." "By one man. He was not you and I do not want him to be the memory that haunts me for the rest of my life." Her lips brushed his jaw, inhaling his scent, her senses swimming with him. The memory of Sirrus's abuse began to fade as she replaced it with the strong play of muscle in Marcus's body and the clean scent of his skin. All she had was tonight and her choice had been made. With what sounded almost like a sigh, she sank into his body, pulling his arms around her. "What happened was not your fault... to me or to her." Her hand gently stroked along his jaw, fingers feathering across his lips. "Tonight is for us both...a chance to forget for just a few moments that the world is not what we want it to be. Please," she murmured against his mouth. "I trust you Lord Aurelius. Do not allow your sense of guilt deny me what I have wanted all of my life." Marcus inhaled deeply as she settled into him. Her body had warmed and she felt soft and desirable in his arms, a woman who was willing not beaten. Yet he still hesitated until she guided his hand slowly down her body to rest just above her heart. She lingered for a moment, watching his expression before she guided his hand lower. She helped him slide down the straps of her shift so it joined her veil on the floor in a swish of silk. Marcus's gaze slid over her body, darkening at the bloom of bruises on her upper inner thighs from thoughtless hands. Gemella saw his nostril flare, anger for her mistreatment lurking in the depths of his eyes. Her expression softened, her touch lifting his gaze back to her face. "I trust you," she repeated. She kissed him lightly on the lips intending to distract him. It started as a light brush, but when his hand slipped down her back to press her closer, she clung to him, molding her body to his. She sank into heat as he lowered her slowly to the mattress, his robes an erotic play of tactile sensation whispering over her nude body when he rolled her body beneath him, bracing himself over her. His eyes were burning dark as she met them, his lips brushing her knuckles before he wound her arm around his neck. "Marcus..." "My lord?" "While you share my bed, address me by name, Gemella. When two bodies come together for passion, there are no titles or hierarchy. My body is as much yours tonight as yours is mine. My name is Marcus...Say it," he demanded quietly, his hand stroking down the length of her body in gentle possession. Gemella moaned, her hands curving behind his dark head, slender fingers sliding over the soft fuzz that covered it. He was a complex man, strong and powerful, yet gentle and considerate as his lips teased the long line of her throat, making her pulse skip. He could have prostrated her beneath him, taking her hard at his will, but instead he gave her the choice, coaxing her body's reactions like a master musician. "Lord Aurelius, I..." "Marcus," he interrupted, his teeth nipping harder, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine as he teased the lobe of her ear with his tongue, learning every minute curve and crevice. Gemella's body arched into his hands, slender fingers dug into his shoulders as he nuzzled between her breasts, sending waves of heat through her. This was what should have been, pleasure spiraling through her, her body growing wet, swelling and aching with a need that pushed back the memory of resistant flesh being torn. "Marcus!" He smiled, his hands stroking over her waist slowly, slipping up her sides to curve under the heavy weight of her breasts. He lifted them gently, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh, enjoying the way her nipples peeked out between his splayed fingers with a tease of rosy color. He leaned down, taking one in his mouth, using his tongue as sweet torment, her cries of pleasure erasing the ones she had uttered earlier in pain. With every touch, Marcus felt her body grow more pliant, willingly molding into his hands and allowing him to teach her about the pleasure between a man and a woman. His teeth grazed the underside of her breast, his hand curling confidently around her ankle to bend her leg so she was exposed to his view in the most intimate of ways. Gemella's breath caught, a small sound of protest easing from her lips as she attempted to press her thighs together to hide herself from his hungry gaze. Her shame returned in an overwhelming wave. He would see how her flesh was torn and swollen where Sirrus had violated her. She tensed, struggling beneath him and he stilled his explorations. Placing a hand along her face, he turned her head gently to see her face. "Shhh. I am not going to hurt you." "I...I am afraid," she whispered. "I know. Trust me, Gemella. I will not harm you. All I want is to bring you joy, not shame," Marcus said softly, his eyes fastened on hers. "Allow me to look at you, to touch you and make you cry out my name with pleasure. I want to watch you arch beneath me; your body welcoming and wet when I take you, feeling you bear down around me. Will you allow me?" Gemella couldn't seem to find her voice, but she nodded and allowed him to arrange her on the pillows with her knees pushed up and her thighs pressed wide apart. Her eyes closed, cheeks burning with shame as his hands traveled over the long muscle of her thigh, barely touching as he made his way to his destination. Gemella released her breath heavily, moving restlessly beneath his touch as he stroked her desire with gentle patience, allowing her body to adjust to every new sensation. She moaned when she felt his breath across her thigh, her eyes fluttering open to see the broad, bare curve of his scarred and hardened shoulders as he settled between her thighs, the tip of his fingers drawing a path of desire along her skin. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 06 She shivered but didn't tell him to stop. Despite the tension in her body, he stirred her desire. Her body arched up for him, giving him more access to those silky, pale, curls at the juncture of her thighs. She watched him as he pushed her thighs further apart, completely exposing her to his hands and eyes. Marcus slipped one finger slowly over the damp flesh he'd uncovered, watching as her body shuddered in pleasure. "You are beautiful, Gemella. Do you know that?" A small, involuntary sound was her answer as his fingers parted her folds even more. Her nether lips were thin and girlishly small, but she was slick to his touch, her body sure of what it wanted even if her memories caused her to hesitate. Marcus stroked the soft flesh, knuckles tantalizing the seat of her pleasure as he watched her flushed face. He invaded her slowly with one long finger, feeling her heat stretch around him, her inner muscles fluttering and drawing him in deeper. Her body arched as she felt him inside, trying to take more of him, needing more from him. Her lips parted as she stared down between them, watching as he withdrew his finger and then buried it deep again within her aching sex. Her head fell back in pleasure as he added another finger, stretching her until she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. "I am going to taste you now. I want to feel you, sweet across my tongue, giving me your pleasure." Gemella made a sound that might have been intended as a protest, but he didn't let it deter him as his head dipped, his tongue sliding up one side of those silky lips and down the other. Her breath was released in a hard gasp and he felt her hand move to his shoulder, fingers sinking in to urge him on. He enjoyed the control he had over her pleasure, her innocently passionate responses tightening his body and mocking his cock throb. Gemella was caught in a web of erotic torture, a sensual torment that he plied upon her willing body with supple ease. "Do not stop. Please..." she begged. "I feel I'll die if you do..." She moaned, her eyes closing as she whimpered through the intensity of her pleasure as Marcus's teeth grazed the downy skin of her inner thigh. He could see her body straining for his touch, as his hands slipped beneath her buttocks to press her up into his mouth. His tongue stroked up through the folds of her body and then down again, making the journey several times until he could feel her body beginning to tense, her thighs threatening to shut and milk him within their warmth. He alternated the strokes, encouraging her responses until her body bowed back on the bed. She was making low keening noises, writhing beneath him. Marcus avoided touching her in the one place that he knew was the seat of her pleasure until she cried out. He applied a steadier, quicker pressure with his tongue, sucking her into his mouth till she splintered into waves of pleasure, her damp walls clamping down on him until she lay spent against the pillows. He eased his fingers from her body, taking her mouth hungrily as he readjusted himself over her. Gemella responded immediately, her fingers curling around his neck as she instinctively parted her legs for him, her knees bracketing the hard line of his hips. Her fears had melted away beneath the heat he created with his hands and his mouth, her cries of pleasure urging him to take her with one firm, forward thrust of his hips. He swallowed Gemella's moans, keeping still until she adjusted to the size of him. When he felt her loosen around his girth, he withdrew halfway and then thrust inside of her, feeling every inch of the sweet heat of her around his cock. His hands slid from her shoulders, slipping over her thighs and pulling her even closer. Gemella moaned into his mouth, her body responded to the natural rhythm, meeting him stroke for stroke. She moved with him when he guided her leg higher on his hips, rocking up against him when he ground down to fan the flames between them. Marcus groaned his own pleasure into her mouth as his strokes became harder, deeper, pushing them both to the edge of pleasure. "Marcus!" When she broke from his kiss to cry out his name, he succumbed to the urgings of her body, secret walls flexing around him in constant ripples of heat. Marcus threw back his head with a roar of pleasure, releasing the passion he had held onto for so long. Slowly, he released his breath and relaxed over her limp form. She was breathing so lightly he could barely see her chest rising and falling. He braced himself on his arm to brush her hair from her face, her smile tired but sated as she rubbed her cheek into his palm. She looked relaxed, curling into him. Her dreams had been satisfied as had his body, but his heart still beat with a hollow tempo, reminding him that a moment of passion could not completely silence the voices of the past. "Marcus?" "Mmm?" "Are you all right?" "Yes. I'm fine." Gemella's expression softened as his lips brushed over her forehead. She shifted, pressing a kiss into his palm. "Your eyes look tired. Is your mind heavy?" "Yes. This country is the land of my birth yet I barely recognize her anymore." "Things changed with the death of the old king. The citizens of the country are afraid of what will happen now. We do not know the man my lady is meant to marry, but we have heard that he is a cruel man. We fear him and we fear for our country." She paused, her fingers gently tracing over the muscle in his arm. "Everyone hopes you will take throne. You are a good man, just as your uncle was." "I am no king, Gemella. My life is that of a soldier." He shook his head and shifted to reach for the chalice that had been placed on the nightstand. Gemella watched in horror as he lifted the goblet towards his lips. In her silence was his death, having earlier emptied the contents of the vial into his wine. "No!" She lurched forward, droplets of dark wine splattering the sheets like lost innocence as she grabbed it from him. She saw the confusion in his eyes as her fingers tightened on the slender stem of the goblet. "What is the matter?" "This is...my cup, Marcus. I...added some herbs to it earlier ... to calm me." She forced a smile as she reached for the other goblet on the table. Her fingers brushed his gently, lovingly as she met his eyes. This was the point of no return. She could feel the eyes of the fates upon her, waiting with their scissors to cut the strands of her life from their loom. Her life was now forfeit, but Marcus Aurelius was the hope of the people. He had given her back a moment of the life lost at Sirrus's hands. How could she do anything less for him? "I feel like such a silly girl. I should have known my time with you would be something to treasure, not fear. Forgive me and drink with me. Please," she said softly.. She saw his hesitation, but she took a sip before he could protest. When she smiled, he too drank from the second cup. Gemella watched his throat as the liquid slid down, closing her eyes for a moment. I give my life for his and ask the gods to protect him. Celaenia needs him. She leaned forward, her lips a gentle caress across his forehead. "You are a great man and you will be a great king, Marcus. I would have served you faithfully all of my life," she murmured. "Gemella?" She heard the question in his voice, but she couldn't answer, a sudden sharp pain doubling her over, spreading fire through her body. The wine goblet fell from her hands to the floor and she smiled as she tumbled off of the bed. As if in a dream, she felt Marcus's hands on her, his shout for the guards mingled with her scream as the fire in her body turned to ice. "Gemella, look at me. Focus on my voice." "I feel cold." She shivered, her teeth chattering as she tried to curl into a ball. Paralysis spread from her neck down as her blood slowed in her veins. She heard Marcus shouting and the flurry of commotion around her as the doors to his chambers were flung open. Voices shouted, feet stamped, but they were all too late. She could see Marcus's face as he supported her body in his arms, her head braced on his shoulder. "My lord, what is happening here?" "Check the goblet." "I smell nightshade. My lord, did you drink from this?" "No. She took it from me before I could taste it. Gemella, Gemella stay with me. Tell me who gave you that glass." "The girl is a traitor! She tried to kill you!" "Call the guards! She tried to kill Marcus Aurelius!" "Silence!," Marcus roared. Gemella was gasping for her last breath, her lips turning blue as her circulation slowed. "Gemella, tell me the name. I know you did not do this." She smiled, her eyes closing, her words a whisper. "Lead the people, Marcus. They need ...you to be their King... They need..." Her voice trailed off, her body going limp in Marcus's arms. She was unresponsive when he shook her and he pressed his forehead against hers. Around him were his advisors, the men who were loyal to him. He searched their faces for the one person that he expected to be here, to feign innocence and horror at the tragedy. "Portia," he murmured. Gemella had not said her name, but he knew it in his heart. His cousin's ambitions had poisoned her as surely as the nightshade had poisoned this innocent girl. A slow roll of anger pass through him. He stood and laid Gemella's body on the sheets before pulling on a robe. All eyes were upon him, fear pulsing throughout the room. Marcus suppressed his desire to grab his sword and confront his cousin. He knew in his heart that without proof of her treason it would serve no purpose other than ensuring that the Empire would be forced to split it's loyalties between the daughter of their former king and the man they loved. The seeds for a civil war would be planted. No, he would not play that game of hers. She had forced his hand, but he would still choose the direction in which it would go. In pursuit of her ambitions, Portia would destroy anyone or anything and the nation was in danger of collapsing under her machinations. He could not allow it. Celaenia needed a leader who would protect and guide its people through these turbulent times, someone whose ambitions would not taint the Empire. He doubted he was that man, but his country did not have the luxury of waiting while he sorted out his thoughts. Action was needed. Consequences would always follow. "Felix," he called. The most loyal of his men stepped forward only half dressed but with his sword in hand. "Wake the lady Portia. She should know that there has been an attempt on my life. I want all of the servants roused immediately and brought to the main hall for questioning. If anyone knows of this plot they will be arrested immediately and judged by the High Council." "Yes, Captain Aurelius." "What of the girl?" "Make preparations for her body to be sent back to her family." "But she is a traitor." The man sputtered as Marcus grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. The emotion he had been fighting earlier, flooded over him in full force. "The girl is the only reason I am still alive. If not for her sacrifice, I would be a corpse. Someone else orchestrated this attempt and I want them found. Is that understood?" "Yes, Captain Aurelius." "Good. Now get out. I want you to find who did this." He released him, turning to look back at Gemella's lifeless body cooling on the linens, her eyes blank and unseeing. Her soul was free to enter the Eternal Gardens, but he could not join her. The duty of a king was to his people and his needed him now... Thanks for following along. Please take a moment to vote. If you vote negatively, please take a moment to comment as well and let me know what didn't work for you-we get better through constructive feedback. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 07 For the Sake of an Empire Chapter 07 Before anything else, I just want to clarify that this is the author formerly known as Artistic Annonymity (Gawd that made me feel like an 80's pop star reject lol) and I have just changed names, using my middle name and the name I always intended to one day publiclly publish under. So in case anyone is scratching their heads, yep, its still me. Just a new suit so enjoy. The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. This chapter actually has no sex in it, though I think the action sequences make up for it cause it's getting hot up in here!. Hopefully y'all agree. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote and leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. Sorry it's taken so long but I am on winter break so hope to finish cranking this and a few other outs. Thanks again! ----------------------------- "My lady, come quickly!" Portia's eyes narrowed in irritation, turning when the doors to her suite were thrown open hard enough to bang the heavy wood against the wall. The young woman in her doorway was breathless, her cheeks flushed with exertion. Portia observed her coolly, continuing to move the brush through the hip length strands of her hair as if she had not been disturbed in her private moments. "What is the meaning of this? I specifically asked not to be disturbed." "Forgive me, my lady, but there has been an attempt made on Lord Aurelius's life." The bone handle of the brush pressed tightly enough against Portia's hand to bruise, her grip tightening as her breath left her. "What did you say?" "You lady servant, Gemella, attempted to assassinate Lord Marcus Aurelius. The guards are saying that she poisoned his wine with nightshade." Portia forced herself to release a breath she hadn't realized she was holding until the edges of the world began to turn black. Her slender throat worked as she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat, smothering on her own disbelief. The hair bush fell from her hand, clattering on the floor as she stood unsteadily, bracing herself with one arm on the side of her dressing table. "My lady, are you all right?" "Does he live?" "My lady you do not look well." "I asked you if he lives!" The young woman jumped as the vase Portia threw, crashed into the wall by her head. Pieces of ceramic rained down on her, coating her in a fine dust that turned her black curls gray. Fear flickered in her eyes as she nodded quickly. "Yes my lady, forgive me. He lives. He is in the great hall, demanding everyone congregate there. All of the servants are being questioned. They believe that it is a conspiracy against the throne. First the king and now Lord Aurelius. The people are fearful my lady." Portia didn't answer. Her anger was a pulsing, living thing that grew as rage fed it. The gods were laughing at her, mocking her with their games, toying with her emotions till she felt she would collapse. Everything that she had worked towards seemed to be tumbling down around her like a paper house. All of her well planned moves, coming to this. Gemella had disobeyed her and made an attempt on Marcus's life. A wave of nausea swept over her, weakening her legs till she was forced to sit down. Her fingers gripped the sides of the chair, ignoring the servant girl when she silently picked up the discarded bone handled brush she had used on her hair, laying it gently on the side of the table. Portia stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to focus on only the gray depths of her own eyes and not on the dizzying spots that danced across her vision. She couldn't understand. She had been so clear. She was the future Queen of Celaenia. Her word was law. To betray her was to commit treason and yet she had been disobeyed and her plans almost dissolved like sugar candy in water. "You are certain he is unharmed?" "Yes, my lady. He and the other guards are questioning everyone." She stepped closer, her expression tentative as a slender hand reached out, trembling against Portia's shoulder. "Are you all right?" "How can you ask me such a question when such treachery visits my home?" "I am sorry my lady. I meant no impudence. I merely wanted to ask if you were al...." "Get out," Portia interrupted. "My lady, I.." "Get out!," Portia screamed. The young woman skittered away, the sweet scent of sandalwood filling the air as she knocked into the vanity on her way out, the glass glittering on the floor. She left the door open behind her and Portia stared into the empty hall for a moment, seeing nothing but her failure. Her nerves felt frayed, wicked laughter unrelenting as it echoed over and over in her ears, taunting her. Her plans had almost been destroyed the by the acts of one stupid servant girl. Her head dropped forward into her hands for a moment, her skin radiating heat against the iciness of her palms. She wanted to be alone to scream to the heavens and ask them why they worked against her when she lived only to create a strong, capable country that would stand against the tests of time. Why could no one see the glory that she herself dreamed of every night? She shivered. She felt a chill creeping across her body despite the fire that burned cheerfully in her hearth. It was a cold that crept out from within her heart, slowly moving through her body to turn her blood to ice, paralyzing her with the knowledge that she was losing control of her people. An inept queen could not rule for long. She shivered again goose flesh rising on her bare arms. When she lifted her head and met her own gaze in the mirror, she paused. Gray eyes locked into stricken gray eyes. Her hair tumbled wildly around her shoulders like some pagan sacrifice, her nipples taut and visible beneath the thin material of her gown as the cold tried to defeat her. She drew in a shaking breath, eyes closing for a long moment before they opened again, calm reflected in the mirrored glass. What was she doing? She was allowing an insignificant slip of a servant girl to creep beneath her skin and rattle the calm that she had fought so hard for. Gemella was dead and better for it because had she lived, Portia would have ensured that her death at the hand of the High Council, was a slow, memorable thing. She had betrayed her trust, making her appear weak. If she could not control one simple, stupid girl, how could she rule an entire country? No. She was stronger than this. She was a queen by birth and by right. Her word was law and her vision would be the people's. She would show them all that she was capable and that the acts of one stupid girl would not undermine everything she had worked towards all her life. I was clear with her. I told her to let him be. I saw the relief in her eyes when I freed her from that task. Why would she have gone through with it afterwards? She loved him. She would have one anything for him... Her thoughts trailed off, gray eyes widening as realization dawned. She said nothing as her gaze focused on another pair of eyes that suddenly appeared in the mirror. Sirrus's dark eyes met hers without apology or regret for the betrayal he had committed. His handsome face was void of any emotion, a shadow of the man she'd though she knew so well. "She would have done anything for Marcus," she repeated softly. "Even die for him..." "My lady?" "How could you?," she murmured, watching the line of his jaw, tracing it with her eyes as if the weight of her gaze alone could break it and keep him from speaking any more treachery. "How did you dare?" "I do not know what you are talking about." "How could you?," she repeated softly. "Do you hate me that much or do you fear him so much?" "You're speaking in riddles." "Am I?" Her voice sounded eerily calm even to her own ears. In his eyes she saw a reflection of her own anxiety flicker across those handsome features as she stood slowly in a whisper of silk. He took a step back as she moved around the chair and closer to him. "You told Gemella to kill Marcus." "I do not know what you are talking about." "Yes you do. Amalia came to me earlier and told me that she had seen Gemella limping in the hall. She thought she was injured in some way Gemella would not allow her to help her or even see her face. What did you do to her?" "What does it matter? You've told me countless times that I may find my pleasures where I please." "It matters to me... she was to be a gift to my cousin. I wanted her unharmed. What did you do to her to make her wish to harm him?" Sirrus's lips curved into a humorless smile as he leaned down, his lips tracing he air above her upper lip. "I merely reminded her of your desire." Portia stiffened. "You speak treason." "And you committed it, my lady. She confessed everything to me." "You lie to save your own hide, Sirrus. I told you that I wanted Marcus alive so Celaenia would be unified beneath our joint rule. The people love him and I need him to gain some of that respect for myself." "No," he said softly. "It is you who lies, Portia. I know you sent Gemella to kill Marcus and I admit when I heard those words, my heart lifted with joy. I thought that you finally understood that you do not need him and that you would choose me to stand at your side as your consort as I deserve to be." He paused, his expression softening as he reached for her. She tensed as his hand stroked down her cheek, caressing the stiff line of her jaw. "I thought you were proving you loved me, but then she told me you had changed your mind and that you intended to marry him after all." "I told you I was doing it for the betterment of this country. I think of them, not myself." "Do you?" When her gaze faltered, his hands tightened on her shoulders. "Do not lie to me anymore, Portia. I have been by your side for all these years. I have done your bidding each time as asked without question. Have I not yet proved my loyalty to you?" "How can I trust a man that put his will ahead of my own?" "I did it for you... For us. So that there would be no one standing in front of you and the throne. You do not need Marcus. You have my support and that of the home guard and we hold the true power in this city, not the High Council. Wars are worn by soldiers, Portia, not doddering old men in robes!" Portia's breath caught as she watched an ugly emotion slip into Sirrus's eyes. Her tones were soft as she shook her head. "You're mad. I do not wish to rule a country through fear and militant strength. These are my people, Sirrus, not conquests. You cannot see my vision...You never could. It is beyond your understanding. You think only of your desires and not of the empire." I am thinking of you, Portia. No one knows better than I how much you desire the throne. I was helping you to get it." "I can handle my own affairs, Sirrus." His eyes darkened. "Some things cannot be handled on your back." Portia's breath caught as she lunged. Sirrus foolishly tried to block her, unable to capture both hands at the same time. He shouted as her nails dragged down the side of his face, gouging his flesh with red, bleeding furrows. Her slender fingers curled, delicate talons dripping red like a daughter of the Furies as they struggled. "If you ever speak to me in that manner again, I will cut out your eyes and feed them to the crows!" She cried out as Sirrus grabbed hold of her flailing arms, twisting her wrists cruelly. Her breath rushed out, pain crushing her lungs as he slammed her into the wall. Her teeth came down on her tongue hard, pinning and seeping warm wet metal into her mouth. Her head bounced off the stone, pain exploding through her temple, light dancing across her vision as she stared at the ceiling, watching the play of candlelight across the marble. Still struggling for breath, she cried out as Sirrus's fingers curled in her hair, yanking her head back. "Why did you make me do this, Portia? Why? I loved you. I gave you everything. My loyalty. My honor. My love. You are the one woman who has never wanted any part of it for longer than it was convenient." She had underestimated him. She had always assumed that Sirrus would do anything for her, content to live for and by her will alone. She had tried to play him like a puppet and now when his breath feathered across her lips, she felt the snap of her own strings. Her every act no matter how misunderstood, was for Celaenia. It was for something greater than herself, but Sirrus could think of nothing but his own desire, just like her father before him and Marius who was on his way to try and claim her as his prize. Every man in her world could think only of himself and what he wanted, not of her or of the country that she loved more than her life. "I will have you hung for this." "I give you the world and all you can talk about is your wish for my death? Your heart is as cold and soulless as a long winter, Portia." "No. It is as hot as the blood which boils within my veins, Sirrus." She swallowed around the blood in her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as her head throbbed. "How could you have been so stupid? I told you I intended to wed Marcus. Without him as my consort, my hold over the city is weakened. You knew this and yet you dared to defy me." "I told you I can be your consort, Portia. You need a strong man who the people of this city respect. I control the royal guard and no every inch of this city and the secrets built into every stone. I can help you rule so that no one will oppose you." His thumb stroked over her lips gently, even as his cruel grip on her hair tightened, his eyes desperate as they moved over her face. "You need no other man but me." "Let go of me, Sirrus." "Not until you listen to me." "I am done with listening to you! How could you betray me? I trusted you." Portia's breasts rose and fell, struggling to draw full breaths into her still screaming lungs. She felt dizzy and light-headed, the room spinning around her. She blinked, staring up at him as his face wavered in and out of focus. She closed her eyes tightly, a sick nauseated feeling growing in her stomach. "You speak of betrayals in the same breath that you speak of trust?" He laughed, the sound hollow as he tightened his grip on her wrists. Portia winced, barely recognizing the man in front of her. "You swore to me that your love was real and yet you turn down what I can offer you in favor of your cousin." Portia's teeth snapped together as Sirrus yanked her towards him, lifting her struggling body in his arms. She tried to kick at him, but a hard blow across the face knocked her head to the side and the air from her lungs. She slumped forward, her fall broken by Sirrus's arms. Sirrus carried her quickly out of the room, hurrying down the wide main corridor to a smaller, darker one. Instead of silk upon the wall, here it was stone and mortar, the air carrying a distinct chill. Sirrus managed to open a small door at the end of the corridor and Portia moaned as she felt the soft caress of the evening breeze across her cheek. Sirrus carried her down a long circling flight of stairs that lead to a small door at the bottom at the back of the castle. He adjusted Portia's limp weight and opened the door. Thin streams of light from the moon peeking from the clouds lit his path as he walked out towards the cliffs. "I loved you, Portia. I kept your every secret. Why did you have to betray me?" She moaned as he tossed her over his shoulder, too disoriented to scream for help. Somewhere in her muddled mind she knew that this was the end for her. Everything that she had planned for this city was going to fall apart because of one man that she had underestimated as so many had underestimated her. She had become one of the fools she scoffed at and it would be her death. She prayed that the gods were more forgiving then the hands that thrust her to the ground, sending her into a spiraling black world that swallowed her up. - - - - - Panic had a scent and Yanamari was surrounded by it. It smelled like wine and treason and the acrid scent of body odor that wafted through the halls as sandaled feet slapped against the stone, hurrying through the halls. Panic had a face. It was the lifeless one of the girl that the castle guards carried past her, one slender arm hanging over the sheet as if waving goodbye to the life she had left behind. Her face was half revealed by the heavy sheet, her fair hair spilling free. She had been lovely once when her cheeks had been full with rosy life, but now her full lips already blue with the life's departure from her body. She looked too young for the Celaenian death god to have claimed her as his bride, only a few years older than herself. It made her all too aware of her own mortality as her dark gaze moved around the halls. Yanamari caught the arm of a slender girl who served with her at Portia's side as she hurried past, her face flushed with exertion. "Wait. Please, Chloe. What has happened? Why is everyone so fearful. Has sickness come to the city?" "No," she wheezed as dark eyes met Yanamari's with the wide fearful look of a startled doe. "These are dark times, Mara. It is no longer safe even within these walls." "What are you talking about?" "Gemella, Portia's handmaiden... she tried to assassinate Marcus Aurelius." Yanamari couldn't understand the sudden wave of panic that whipped through her, weakening her knees. Her hand sought the wall blindly for support, slender fingers digging in gently into the younger woman's arm. "She killed him?" "No," Chloe said, shaking her head, that dark riot of curls dancing across her cheeks. "He lives. He didn't drink from the poisoned cup. He is calling all who live within the castle to the great hall. The guards are questioning everyone." "Why?" "He does not believe that she acted alone. Neither do I nor any of the other girls who served alongside her all these many years. Of all of us, Gemella adored Marcus Aurelius the most. He is a good, fair man deep inside though he seems hard. He was always kind to her. She would never have harmed him of her own free will." "But who would command her to commit such an act? It had to be someone with enough power to convince her. She reported directly to the lady Portia and..." The rest of her words were stilled by Chloe's soft warm fingers pressing tightly over her mouth. Dark eyes pleaded with her for silence as servants and guards rushed past them in a symphony of frantically slapping sandals. Chloe watched them pass, then leaned in close to Yanamari, her breath warm across her cheeks. "Please do not look beneath stones for you will find the snake to bite you," she whispered. "Be very careful, Mara. Our lives mean nothing here. We are but pawns to be used in whatever game is being played at the moment. The best way to make them forget that you are a possible player is to keep your head down." She paused, nodding slightly to make sure that Yanamari understood. When the other woman nodded, she released her. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 07 "I must go. I was told to summon the Lady Portia. Please, Mara. I like you. Remember what I said. I do not wish to mourn another friend." She hurried away before Yanamari could respond. For a moment she felt rooted to the spot. She shouldn't have felt relief at the news of Marcus's escape from death. Had he been killed she would have been one step closer to her revenge. He was her jailer and as long as he lived, the fate of her life and country lay in his hands. Yet she couldn't stop her eyes from closing for a moment, her hand hovering over her heart. She was torn with conflicting emotions; to thrust the dagger on her hip through his heart to finish the job, or to slide her hands over his face to see for herself that he was unharmed. As she pushed from the wall and hurried towards the staircase, she told herself that she could not complete her vengeance without being alone with him. That was why she hurried her steps to find him before someone else did, to find him when he was more vulnerable in the confusion and panic that was ensuing. She didn't have to go far. As she turned at the end of the hall, she collided with a warm body. She instinctively reached up to push herself away, her hands molding to hard muscle. Heart pounding, her eyes widened when she met Marcus's gaze. His own gray eyes registered the same shock he had shown the first night they had met when her face was revealed. She started to pull away, unprepared for the way his arms tightened around her to pull her closer. "Mara... forgive me. I did not see you." Her throat felt dry as her tongue slid across her lower lip. She watched his gaze follow the gesture and something deep in her body tingled. Despite the chaos that was occurring around them, he seemed composed and she fought the urge to place her head against his chest and see if she too could find that same calm in his arms. "You do not have to ask anything of me,...Lord Aurelius," she said stiffly, trying to regain her composure. "I... I was....I had heard that there was an attempt made on your life and I...." As she stuttered along, his gaze roamed her face and settled on her mouth. His expression seemed to soften when he lingered on the quivering curve of her lower lip. "Did you fear for my safety?" "I.... I feared for nothing. I simply...wanted to know if I was finally free of you." "You lie," he murmured, one hand moving to the side of her face. She tensed but couldn't seem to make her legs move as he gently tipped her head back to look into her eyes and see the truth that she riled so hard against. "Let me go, Lord Aurelius." "No. I do not think so. You came looking for me because you feared for my life. I can feel the tension in you, see the truth in the flush of your cheeks." "You think too much of yourself. I was simply making my way to the main hall. I was told you wanted to see everyone." "On the contrary, I too often think of everyone else. I worry about the state of this country that my uncle built and which seems to be in dire need of a savior-one which I cannot be. I think of my men and what would become of them if I forfeited all of my positions here." He paused, his eyes darkening as they met hers. "I think of you all too often and how you felt in my arms that night. I cannot stop the memory of your honeyed sweetness thick across my lips as I made you mine as surely if I had taken you." "Lord Aurelius..." she protested weakly. "You claimed me as much as I claimed you that night, Mara," he said urgently, his thumb stroking a heated line down across her throat. He felt his blood quicken as her eye dilated with the same unspoken passion she had shown that night in his tent. She felt the same fire that haunted him, he could feel the truth in the way her body responded to his, taut peaks pressing into his chest as heat radiated from her loins where she nestled against him. Tonight an attempt had been made on his life and he did not understand why. There were many things he had been confused about since returning to the country of his birth, yet the one thing that stood out with startling clarity in his mind was that he wanted Mara with a passion he'd felt for no other since the death of his wife. She was under his skin and in his blood like a poison. One thought of her left him hard and aching to possess that slender beauty that she had denied him that night. He breathed out against her hair, settling her against him as he rested against the top of her head, trying to still the desire to take her where she stood. He wanted to sate himself with her slender beauty, to make her his only once so that he would lose interest in possessing her. If he had her once, he would see her for what she was; a girl flesh and blood, not a spirit from the Realms of the Dead come to haunt him, making his heart ache even as his cock pulsed with the desire to bury itseld the honeyed flesh between her thighs. "I have done nothing but think of you and imagine how you would feel beneath me again, this time welcoming me into your body to finish binding the spell you have cast over me." "You would force me?" "I did not force you that night. I do not think I would have to force you now. Can you deny that you feel it as well? Tell me you do not wish my touch and I give you my sworn oath that I will never touch you again. Tell me, Mara. Tell me." Her lips moved to form the words but they died in her throat as her hands moved up as they had wanted to when she had heard the news of the attempt on his life. His skin was as dry as old papyrus, a days worth of stubble prickling her skin as she palmed his cheeks. Something dangerous sparked in her heart when he turned his head to brush warm lips across the inside of her palm. "You wish to use me for your games, Lord Aurelius. You brought me here to spy on your lady cousin and now you claim to be impassioned? There is already one woman dead. Do you wish the same fate on me?" Marcus focused intently on her face as if he could see into her head and her heart. No other woman since his wife had made him feel this untried lust of a schoolboy. His dreams had been few, all of them haunted by two women with the same face. Each time he saw Mara it became harder to remember Aurelia. Her gentle spirit was slowly being extinguished by her doppelganger's passion which sparked like fire in her dark eyes. He was conflicted, caught between the ghost of his past and the present which took the form of warm, supple flesh in his arms. His thumb gently traced the curve of her jaw. "No harm will come to you." "How can you say that? You send me to spy on your lady cousin because you yourself do not trust her. You believe she may be capable of many horrors...I see it in your eyes so do not deny it," she said softly. "This woman is the future queen of this country and yet you wish me to believe I am safe here?" "You are beneath my protection here, Mara. I give you my word." She scoffed at the suggestion, trying to move back from the intensity of heat radiating from his body, causing hers to echo in ways she didn't want to allow. "You gave me to her! I am hers to do with as she pleases!" "I know....and I am sorry," he said quietly. His gaze held hers evenly and Yanamari felt her heart tighten. There was something haunted in his eyes when he looked at her, that usual hard mask that he wore in front of others, nowhere to be seen. There were only those storm dark eyes that she felt herself falling into, getting swept into a tempest that would destroy her. "If you are so repentant, let me return to my home country." "Is that really what you want?" "Why wouldn't I?" "Because you want to touch me as much as I want to touch you." His gaze dropped to her mouth again and Yanamari's lips parted, fingers curling into chest. She started to deny it, but he didn't give her the chance. "I will protect you, Mara, I swear," he said as he bent forward, brushing his lips over hers, increasing the intensity until they were one. His promise was to a woman who didn't exist, but she couldn't dwell on the thought. Awash in the searing heat of his kiss, she automatically molded herself to his body, fitting the curves of her flesh to the planes of his chest, his hips, his legs, reveling in the press of his erection against the V of her thighs. Her head was spinning and when she whimpered, he eased the pressure and tasted her, teasing her with his tongue, leaving no doubt in her mind as to what he wanted. And you want it as well. You cannot even deny it to yourself. She wanted it. The thought of them lying together in his bed, his strong arms around her holding her close, made her want to arch against him the way she had seen others do by the solstice fires when they worshipped their sweet mother earth. She had never participated because of her status, but now she had to force herself not to let her hands explore that part of his body seeking refuge within the warmth of her body. She wanted to believe that this passion would not destroy them both, but all storms devastated before they allowed a reprieve to rebuild. To give into his passion would be to lose herself and to condemn her country as she had already condemned her father. The thought sobered her and she whimpered against Marcus's mouth when he pressed her back against the wall. He pulled back, looking down into her face. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, begging for more. He fought the urge to take her against the wall, tempering down the lust that raged within him with reality. Kissing Mara was one of the most irresponsible things he could have done right now. There had been an attempt made on his life and he needed to find Gemella's accomplice before another was attempted. He needed a clear head and every time he was around Mara she muddled his focus. That is something you cannot afford now. "General Aurelius..." Marcus pulled back, reluctantly releasing her as they both looked at Felix who stood with two other men from his battalion. He could feel Mara's shame radiating from her body in waves of heat, her cheeks flushed. He instinctively moved her behind him, shielding her with his body. "What is it Felix?" "The Lady Portia is missing, General Aurelius." "What do you mean she is missing?" "Her lady maids are unable to find her. The news of the attempt on your life was delivered to her shortly after you called for the meeting in the great hall. The girl swears that she told her and then left her in her rooms, but we have been unable to locate her." His gaze flickered briefly to Mara who was peeking out from behind Marcus. "Captain Sirrus is also missing." Marcus swore. "Find them. Search the grounds and have our men lead the search. I no longer know who can be trusted among the men here. Tell no one else of Portia's disappearance." "Yes, General Aurelius." Marcus caught Mara's arm as she tried to slink off behind Felix. Her lower lip was caught between her upper teeth, worrying it. His hand lifted as if to touch her face, but the moment had been broken and his expression hardened as he abruptly released her. "I give you my word that I will see to it that you are returned home as soon as I have settled affairs here. You were right. None of us is safe within these walls anymore." He inhaled as if to say something else, then abruptly turned on his heel and walked away leaving Yanamari staring after him. He had made a promise and she knew he would keep it. She simply wasn't sure anymore if she wanted him to. Chapter eight is being written. I hope you all are enjoying this story. I know several people have written to me, concerned if it would ever be completed. To be honest, I considered throwing the entire thing against the wall due to the lack of any feedback I received on the last two chapters and the numbers that spoke of disinterest in the story. Remember, votes and comments are what we authors here get for payment so please take the few seconds to vote and send me a comment. If you love it, great, let me know. If you hate it, ok, explain why. Otherwise we all feel our little neurotic birdies coming out to play :) I thrive on knowing what you think so PLEASE NO anonymous feedback through emails because I can't get back to you, especially when its wonderful feedback and I want to say thanks. Take care. -Joy. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 08 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. This chapter actually has no sex in it, though I think the action sequences make up for it cause it's getting hot up in here!. Hopefully y'all agree. Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote and leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so even after I considered dumping the entire thing. Take care. ----------------------------- "General Aurelius?" Marcus turned as Felix appeared in the doorway, pulling him from his thoughts. He had had his men looking for Portia for the last twenty minutes since she had disappeared from her room. Against his better judgment he had sent a messenger to inform the members of the High Council of the attempt on his life and her disappearance. Murmurs had already begun, opinions formed of who was responsible and what would come next. They had lost their king and now their champion's life had been threatened. The city walls pulsed with tension, fear sweeping through the streets like wildfire. And you can do nothing about it. Dark brows furrowed as his second in command stepped further into the room. "What news, Felix?" "We have yet to find any trace of either of them, General Aurelius." "Have you had the guards check all of the palace and the catacombs?" "Magnus is leading a group of the home based guard as you requested. It seems more catacombs and secret passages were added after we left the city walls to help protect the royal family if the palace was attacked by intruders. There is one tunnel leading out to the back side of the palace from the Lady Portia's bedroom. We found signs of a struggle-shards of broken pottery and blood stains against one wall." "Did it seem the sign of a grave injury?" "No, but it was enough to make me believe that she did not leave that room willingly. Her lady-in-waiting said the last person she saw enter her private suites was Captain Sirrus and when Hector questioned the home based guard they were already aware of Sirrus's disappearance. Several of his men sought him out earlier and could not find him. His second in command when questioned, admitted to Hector that he was behaving oddly all afternoon." He paused, hesitating long enough to make Marcus's eyes darken in silent question. "It was him that attacked Gemella, General Aurelius. One of the serving girls confessed it to me when I was returning to the main hall. She said Gemella came to her for assistance after the attack." He paused again, watching the line of Marcus's shoulder. The tension was obvious, muscle knotting through the broad expanse of his back. He didn't have to ask what he was feeling. He had served with him for over ten years and been there the night they had found the bodies of his wife and son. He had thought he would join them that evening, drowning in a river of mead instead of the river that he had pulled him out of. He had never seen such pain across any man's face before and that pain was mirrored now, glimpsed briefly for a moment before it was obscured by a shadow that deepened the gray of his eyes. There was a darkness there that hinted at violence though he knew Marcus was too bound by honor to ever act upon the emotions. If he had been less disciplined, he might have been a happier man. "I want him found." "Yes, General. I gave the order to bring him back unharmed. They know their priority is the Lady Portia." "And yet should it be?," Marcus murmured. "General Aurelius?" "She may be in danger at this very moment and yet I find myself wondering if to save her tonight is to condemn my country." "General Aurelius...I.." "You think I do not know where your mind is? I saw it in your face when you came to my aid earlier. We both know that Gemella would never have harmed me of her own will." "I know she cared for you." "Yes she did. She cared for me as much as Portia has always resented me. I know that you believe she is responsible for the attempt on my life and for the death of my uncle. The men believe it as well. I hear the murmurs that follow her steps in the hall. I see the way they watch her as if they are afraid to step to heavily into the venom she had sown." His words were bitter as he ran a hand back through his hair, shaking off Felix's hand when it landed on his shoulder. "You are right. These walls have ears and I do not wish them to hear these words. Come in and lock the door." The other man obeyed without question, as obedient within these golden walls as he was on a limb-strewn battlefield. There was no room for arrogance or pride in the life of a soldier. Those who did not know the Celaenian rules of honor, integrity and unrelenting obedience to superior officers were men who were the first to fall. In a battle, all a soldier had to depend on was the sharpness of his sword, the extent of his skills and his brothers in arms who would not leave him behind. Those bonds that were forged between men into situations of life and death were ones that went far and deep and Marcus knew that if he could trust no one else in these times, he could have faith in his men. He moved to the window, his back to the younger man, the one person he did not fear would stab him in it when these walls dripped with treacherous secrets. "This country is no longer the same one I remember. It mocked me with the loss of my uncle and now it does so again with the loss of Gemella. I hear the rumors against my cousin and do not know what to think. I know she has always been ambitious but my uncle was a good man. He deserved loyalty from those he must trusted!" He lashed out abruptly, his blood staining the wall as he struck it with enough force to peel the skin back from his knuckles. He focused on the warm trickle moving down his arm to splatter the floor, the pain too small to make him forget about the greater one in his heart. The guilt that he had carried with him for ten years crashed down upon him now like a wave that crested on the shore during a storm. His eyes closed, throat thickening. "He trusted me, Felix. He offered me the throne and I denied him. He was the only father I could remember. He gave me everything and I in my arrogance threw it back at him." "General Aurelius, this is not your doing." "But it is, Felix. Had I remained and done my duty when it was asked of me I would have been here to note that his health was failing and that Portia waited in the shadows for her moment of opportunity. I would have taken the throne as he wanted and the country would have continued to know peace, not this darkness that is choking the life out of every man, woman and child who after this night will forever look over their shoulders in fear." He smiled, the humor not reaching his eyes as he rubbed his uninjured hand over his face. "He would still be alive and not dying slowly, the knowledge that I betrayed him darkening his heart. Aurelia would still be alive, my son that of another man, both of them free from the fate that my intervention caused." "Marcus..." Felix hesitated for a moment. Though Marcus had always given him the right, it was rare when he called him by his given name rather than by his rank and he saw the impact of its use when Marcus tensed. He knew that Felix would never have taken such liberties if he hadn't felt the same darkness closing in around them. It was creeping in, waiting in the shadows for the moment when it would completely obscure the city that had once held one of the brightest futures written in the stars. "You cannot blame yourself for the deaths of Aurelia and your son anymore than you can place the death of the Emperor on your shoulders. Their deaths were fated. You are a powerful man but you are not a god. They are in the Eternal Gardens. They feel no pain. It is we who suffer now. It is the people of this city that need you and steal from you the luxury of immersing yourself in your own pain." A long silence stretched between them. Marcus nodded slowly, tones quiet. "You have always spoken clearly to me, Felix. Do so now. Do you believe she is guilty?" "I have been gone for as many years as you, General Aurelius. I cannot speak pure truth because I do not know it. But I feel the change in the winds and I hear the unease from the men. Your lady cousin is beautiful but it is her intelligence I fear. If it is true that she seduced Sirrus as they say, it was a strategic move, ensuring she would have the loyalty of the home based guard." "I do not doubt her intelligence, Felix. I doubt her innocence." "Go to the High Council, General Aurelius. Speak with them about your thoughts." "I cannot, Felix. Suspicions without proof mean nothing." "Caius was a loyal servant to this house for many years. So was Sirrus. Do you really think it a coincidence that they both faltered only days apart?" "I hear what you say Felix, but I need the proof." "You are the proof, Marcus," he insisted. "She was always jealous of your relationship with her father. When you left the city, she saw her chance at leadership. The King took that from her when he promised her to Marius of Sergia. Your uncle was giving her into wedlock, not handing her the throne of Celaenia. A woman with your cousin's ambitions could not suffer that fate." "Portia has always been an opportunist. Those who have known her since she was a child know it is true, but we must be very careful to who we speak these thoughts." "If Portia played any part in the death of the king she is a traitor to the Empire and must be dealt with accordingly." "And who would judge her? We have been gone for two years, Felix. This is not the same Celaenia that we remember. There are secrets lurking beneath every stone and we do not know how many offer her their loyalty. To go to the tribunal with so little evidence would be to show our hand and provoke a civil war that would tear apart the people of this city. They are the very heart of Celaenia. Felix. I cannot sacrifice them." "And what of Gemella's sacrifice? She died to protect you, Marcus." Marcus's jaw tightened but he said nothing. "The High Council would listen to you. There is much mistrust of the Lady Portia. No one dares to speak against her because until we returned, she was the only reigning power. That has changed now. Your uncle wished you to have the throne. You're trusted by the people and the Council heeds your words." "How can I take the throne now when I shunned it once? I denied my country, Felix." "Then make it right now, Marcus. I know that you have never wished the throne. You are a soldier and I have always been proud to serve at your side. I would follow you to the grave, but if you tell me now that you will not fight for Celaenia now as you have for your entire life, I will doubt my decision." "I am no king. " "Then become one! By the Gods, Marcus! You asked me to speak clearly so I will." His eyes glittered fiercely as he moved around to meet Marcus's eyes. "I too loved Aurelia. She was the dearest friend I had, but she is dead and she would not want your guilt to prevent you from doing your duty. Do not shame her memory with cowardice and self indulgence, Marcus. If you wish to avenge your uncle, take the throne." Marcus's expression darkened, his hand tightening on his sword. He knew that the other man spoke truth but to remove Portia from the path to the throne was to put himself squarely in the middle of it. He had already steered far from that path once before. He could still see the pain that had flickered through his uncle's eyes when he had refused the throne in front of the High Council. He had never spoken a word in reproach, but Marcus had felt his disappointment as sharply as a knife through the side. For years he had half regretted the decision, surviving his guilt only because of the happiness he found with his wife and son. Their deaths had changed everything and he had found himself walking broken paths, trying to avoid the one that would eventually come to a point of no return. He had stumbled onto it tonight. "You know where my loyalties lie, General," Felix said quietly, breaking the silence. "I dedicated my life to you until death takes me. I will trust you now as I always have." Marcus met his eyes but his response was stilled by pounding at the heavy wooden doors. Felix moved to open it, a rapid exchange of words preceding his solemn expression as he turned. "They've spotted them on the cliffs." * * * Portia woke to the sound of the sea in her ears. She moaned as pain shot through her body when she tried to sit up. Her world swam around her and she leaned forward as the contents of her stomach came up, splattering across the rocks. She swallowed around the bile in her mouth, her vision slowly steadying until she could make out Sirrus standing a few feet away on the cliff edge with his back to her. The stiff breeze coming up from the water swirled his hair around in the wind like snakes daring her to come closer. She had always considered snakes to be the animal she most associated with, but now she feared the sting of their bite. He turned when she made a sound as the throbbing ache in her head slowly intensified as she regained full awareness of her surroundings. They were on the cliffs outside the palace, its silhouette ghostly in the moonlight. It seemed to be another world away, too far for her to reach to escape the unfolding nightmare. Portia stiffened as Sirrus's gaze dragged over her torn chemise, lingering on the pale pink tips that peeked through. She held one hand out to ward him back, the other gripping her torn bodice. Pain shot through her palm as stones embedded themselves into the soft flesh when she tried to scramble backwards. "Do not touch me!" When she shielded herself from his site, Sirrus's jaw tightened. An ugly emotion entered his eyes, making her heart lurch. "Just days ago you let me stroke them and suck them into my mouth. Now you will not even allow me to see them?" "You have gone mad! Stay back!" "Or you will do what? Scream? No one will hear you and if they do, do you think the will truly care?" He leaned forward but didn't touch her. "How many do you think plot your death nightly? Your reign is one that people dread here." "Leave me alone, Sirrus. I want you to go from this country and never return." "Is that a royal order?" Her breath caught as he reached for her and she screamed. She lashed out, catching him off guard as her foot connected hard enough against his chest to send him stumbling back. He fell onto the rocks, shouting out as jagged pieces cut into his back through his clothing. Portia scrambled to her feet. She stumbled forward, still dizzy from the blows that she had received in her room. The rocks far below the cliffs seemed to beckon to her, the waves calling to her like the legendary sirens of the sea. It would have been so easy for her to go to them, to leave all of her struggles behind. But she couldn't. She was a queen of Celaenia and to abandon her people would have been more painful than her body breaking upon the serrated rock forms jutting from the water. She kept moving forward, trying to put as much distance between her and Sirrus as she could. She could hear him behind her, but didn't dare to waste precious time looking back to see where he was. She could see the castle's dark silhouette in the distance. They hadn't gone far but she knew no one would hear her over the crash of the ocean on a night like this. She cried out as Sirrus caught up to her. He grabbed her ankle, yanking her backwards over the rocks, trailing dark stains over the rocks and sand where her knees and hands bled, evidence of her desperation. She struggled against his terrible grip, feeling his fingers digging tighter, crushing her bones together as if he wanted to break every one in her body. He didn't release her, yanking her around. Her hands flailed, trying desperately to keep him away. "Sirrus, no!" she panted hoarsely, fear striking deep and holding her in its icy grip as she looked up at the man she barely recognized, a strange gleam in his eye. "Let me go!" she demanded, hating the note in her voice that sounded so much like begging. "Are you begging, Portia? I thought begging was beneath you. You beg for nothing from any man. You need nothing from any man. Isn't that what you always told me?" His mocking words cut her to the bone. She closed her eyes, willing the gods to give her the strength she so needed in these moments when she saw her world ended and her body broken upon the rocks below. Death had come for her but she would not allow this weak excuse of a man to be the one who had the satisfaction of turning her over. She was a daughter of the empire, a queen by birth and by right. He was nothing but a pawn. Nothing but a ... "Coward," she screamed at him. "You show your moment of strength in the moment of weakness you force on me!" "Silence!" he shouted pinning her arms over her head with one hand as his other hand reached for the largest tear in her sleep shift, the silk ripping with a wet sound like a scream. Portia's cheeks flamed. He knew every inch of her. He had caressed every crevice with his lips and tongue and yet when his gaze lingered, she wanted to claw out his eyes for taking such luxuries. She struggled, yanking her arm free from his grip, slapping him with all the strength she had, her hand vibrating with the painful impact. She heard his roar of displeasure and pain, his eyes darkening with rage a moment before he retaliated. He held her with one hand, the other slapping her hard enough to make the stars overheard dance in her line of vision. Before she could recover from the blow, he struck her again and again till she could barely see through the blood that trickled down from the cut above her eye, the ring that he wore with her crest, dark with blood in the moonlight. Sirrus looked down at his own hand, something akin to horror appearing in his eyes as he looked at his own stained hands and the body of the woman who sit blood at his feet. It spattered dark across the rocks and he shook his head slowly. "Why do you make me treat you this way, Portia? I wanted to cherish you, to share everything with you at your side. Why do you respond only to violence? Are you so afraid to open your heart?" His eyes glittered with pain and rage, the emotions conflicting as the proud Queen who needed nothing and no one Portia struggled to her hands and knees before him, her breasts falling from between the torn pieces of material, rosy nipples tightening from the cold. "No," she groaned, her lip already swelling, blood trickling from the split in her lip. "I just have..." she paused to cough, pain doubling her over. "...no use for the weak. Your jealousy wounds you and makes you weak. I do not know how I missed it, but you are. I can smell it on you like a sickness." She closed her eyes as her head spun, then opened them defiantly. "You asked why I never chose you as my consort...this is why." She cried out as Sirrus dragged her to her feet, shaking her hard enough for her teeth to click together. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 08 "I loved you!" he yelled into her face. "You made a mockery of me, Portia! Before the guard, before the council, before the entire country that knows you spread your legs for anything and anyone that brings you one step closer to that damned crown you so covet." Portia cried out as she was flung away from him, thrown onto the sparse grassy area of the rocks at the cliff's edge. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her, legs splayed open as she lay there, unable to move as she struggled for breath. She groaned as Sirrus leaned over her, his fingers forcing her face to his as his hand moved down the front of her body, lingering on her exposed breasts for a moment before he slid his hand between her thighs. She wasn't fighting him anymore as he pushed her thighs further apart, parting her nether lips with a cruelty that brought a sharp cry of pain to her lips and to his heart. She had wanted this. She had teased and used him, always trying to make him stronger, harder. It was her fault he couldn't turn it off anymore, he thought bitterly as he probed flesh that was resistant to his fingers. She moaned and he pulled away, one hand rubbing across his face. She was a poison that had seeped into his blood, making him what he was. He had lost everything because of her; his dignity, his position and still it pained him when she suffered. He reached down to touch her cheek and paused when he heard voices in the dark. They were coming closer and as bodies began to materialize in the fog, both he and Portia tensed. Portia blinked when she heard the voices. It seemed like a dream. No one knew that she was missing. No one would come for her and everything she had worked for would be lost. Desperate hope washed through her as she heard the voices again. When she looked at Sirrus's stricken face, she knew it wasn't a delusion. "Marcus!," she screamed. She lashed out, hearing her name tossed by the wind, mocking her. He seemed so close but she knew that he wouldn't get to her in time as Sirrus grabbed her. They struggled, grappling on the ground. She tried to grab onto his wrist as he flipped her over his body and she rolled off the cliff edge. Portia screamed as she felt the world drop out from beneath her. Adrenaline surged through her body as she struggled to keep her grip, her scream bouncing off the walls of unforgiving stone. Her feet kicked helplessly in the air for a moment before her desperately seeking hands caught on an outcropping of rock. Her body was jolted with the impact as her descent was stopped, her body shrieking with pain as her shoulder was popped from its socket. Blackness threatened to close in, but she fought against it, knowing if she closed her eyes she would never open them again. The world lurched headily out of focus, Sirrus's form doubled in her vision as he leaned over, eyes glittering with a hatred that stole her breath. Tears rolled down her bruised cheeks as Portia tried to swing her other arm up and the painful effort made her dizzy. "Marcus!" "Even now you call for him..." Pain moved across Sirrus's face, allowing her a brief glimpse of the vulnerable man she had used for her own purposes before he disappearing beneath the rage of betrayal. His sword scratched with a metallic sound as it was unsheathed and pointed at her. He heard the voices of the guards shouting as they neared him and in those large gray eyes that were luminous with pain, he saw his own death just as Caius and her father had seen theirs before him. His last glimpse of her stricken face was burned in his memory as he turned to meet the attack against him, the clang of metal resonating as his sword slid against Marcus's. He could see the rest of the guard coming out of the fog, could see the shock on the faces of some of the men he had once called comrade. He understood their disbelief because it was his own. How had he fallen so far from the grace of the gods? How had he not seen the deception that was right in front of him, speaking treason in dulcet tones? "Marcus!" Portia's scream for another man cut deeper than the edge of Marcus's blade as it cut across his arm, slashing through the fabric to the muscle and bone beneath. Pain flared as he stumbled back, blood dripping warm and wet down the length of his arm, loosening his grip on the sword's handle. He circled as Marcus countered. He heard movement past him but he didn't look. He was focused only on the man in front of him, seeing his death in those gray eyes unforgiving. "Sirrus, throw down your weapon! My men are surrounding this area. There is no escape." Marcus shouted the words at him, his blade coming up to ring against his again. The vibrations resonated through his shoulder as he slashed faster than Sirrus could block, trying to keep him on the defensive. He was conscious of the drop below them, of the sound of Portia's agonized cries as two of his men rushed to her aide. Confident that she was being taken care of, he concentrated on keeping himself out of range of Sirrus's blade. He was a man enraged, a different man than the one that he had trained himself to become a member of the royal guard so many years ago. He had shown so much promise and now it was going to end here, tonight when they had all reached the path of no return. Marcus had never feared more for his country "This has nothing to do with you, Marcus! She is my lady!" He backed up, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his hold on his sword. Marcus watched him carefully as his steps slowly countered his. From the corner of his eye he saw Portia supported in the arms of his men, her steps as wavering as those of a newborn babe. He couldn't tell the extent of her injuries but her hair tumbled around a face as pale as the torn white gown that covered her fragile limbs. "Is this how you treat your lady? She is gravely injured, Sirrus." "She deserves nothing less," Sirrus spat out. "You do not know what you protect." He laughed, the sound as jagged as the cliff surfaces around them. "Do you think death scares me, Marcus? I've been dead since the moment she took me into her confidence, reduced to a wraith that walks but is not allowed to feel. You are defending a woman who is worth nothing. She is a traitor to her own throne and we are all her marionettes. She pulls the strings until they snap!" "He lies!," Portia screamed. "He forced Gemella to poison your drink. He told me everything. He thought if you were dead he would become my consort. He sees his death and seeks an escape!" "I tasted my death the moment I drank from your traitorous lips!" "Kill him, Marcus!" Pain moved across Sirrus's face as he slashed at Marcus in a fury, his blade moving almost to fast to be seen, turned silver by the moon. He no longer cared what became of him. He couldn't get to her now. She was as lost to him tonight as she had ever been. Marcus shouted as he felt pain shoot through his shoulder when Sirrus thrust deep, forcing him to stumble back. He tripped on the rocks, stumbling back, his sword hand coming up to narrowly block Sirrus's downwards thrust. He was moving with amazing speed and dexterity, spurned by the knowledge that he had lost everything. "Why couldn't you just stay away, Marcus!," he shouted, his eyes flashing as he slashed again, tearing the sword from his grasp, sending it skittering back across the rocks. "I told you she's mine!" He raised back for the killing strike but abruptly stopped, Portia's scream echoing through the air. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as he watched the blood slowly blossoming on his chest, the point of Felix's sword protruding from his body. He grasped at his chest as Felix pulled the sword back, his eyes meeting Marcus' for a moment. He smile and then turned, the world slowing down around him as his sword pierced Felix's chest. Marcus shouted as Felix's face went ashen, his eyes meeting Marcus's as a thin trickle, black in the moonlight, slid down the corner of his mouth. His face contorted as he pushed his own blade deeper and the two men went down together. He had seen this moment in his dreams, but it had always been his body that was pierced, his spirit that was released to the Eternal Gardens to be reunited with the people he loved the most. Had he been the one whose body thudded against the rocks, his body that felt cold to the touch as it was pulled away from Sirrus's, he would have been a freed man. His spirit would have soared, not cooled like the winds at his back. "Magnus, get the court medic. Now," he barked, his face tightening as he guided Felix to a half seated position, his arms supporting his weight. Already his body felt lax, lacking the discipline that he had honed it with from years in the battlefields. Marcus's head dipped for a moment, resting against the top of Felix's. He had loved four people in his life; his uncle, his wife and his son and the man whose body stiffened as his blood began to slow in his veins though it did not lessen the speed at which it spilled from his body to soak into Marcus's clothing. He could feel it cool as it touched the air, the heat of his pain unable to warm it. He had once denied fate and believed that it would have no repercussions. His arrogance had cost him everything dear to him. Felix's head lolled back against his shoulder and Marcus felt the coolness of his blood anointing his face as his hand rubbed at it. Bards often sang ballads in the palace of comrades lost in battle, long epic pieces involving heartfelt goodbyes and promises to carry on. Yet in true battle there was no romanticism. There was only the acrid scent of sweat mingled with the metallic hint of blood and the heavy weight of a man in your arms as you wept. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 09 The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Please note that this chapter switches back and forth between reality and a dream sequence. It was confusing to write so readers could understand the switch back and forth between what Marcus is dreaming and what is actually happening as Portia seduces him in his sleep, so I tried to put the dream portions in italics. Hopefully it works out since this is the chapter so many waited for! Portia and Marcus! Side note-someone once mentioned Portia is the type of character you love or hate because she is at times vulnerable and other points despicable...I wrote this chapter with that person in mind!_ Disclaimer: The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission. Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote and leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. Sorry it's taken so long but I am on winter break so hope to finish cranking this and a few other outs. Thanks again! * * * "Lord Aurelius!" Gentle tones leapt into alarm as Marcus entered Portia's rooms, her body limp in his arms. The servant girl at the window hurried over, wringing her hands together. She had heard the rumors of Portia's disappearance. The guards had alerted them all when they had hoarded them into various rooms, questioning their motives and their loyalties to the throne. Chloe had felt sick, her stomach churning as she recalled her earlier conversation with Mara. For a brief moment she had wondered if she had been betrayed. She had been allowed to go after only a short time, but some doubt remained in her mind. She was sure the seeds of mistrust had been sown in the hearts of others as well. The country of her birth, where her heart had once rested so peacefully, was being torn apart. Only one man had the ability to bring peace and he could not see his own worth. "You're bleeding...My lady!" "The blood is not mine, Chloe," Marcus assured her, trying to calm the panic in her eyes as she rushed to his side. "It belongs to..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as he shook his head. "I suffered only a minor injury to my arm. It needs to be washed and dressed but there is time for that. Your lady is in greater need of your assistance." "What happened to her?" "She was abducted by Captain Sirrus. I can say no more at this moment but rest easy tonight knowing you are safe. Please bring a basin of warm water and clean linens to tend to my cousin's injuries." As the sound of Chloe's sandals skittered away, Marcus adjusted Portia's weight in his arms. Her lashes looked like crescents of ebony on her pale cheeks, marred by the bruises that were already beginning to form. She had slipped into unconsciousness when her shoulder had been crudely reset on the cliffs, the pain and fatigue keeping her in blissful oblivion on their return to the palace. He had allowed her to sleep though he had informed his men that she was not to be left unsupervised at any time. There would be guards posted at her door every moment of the day and reports were to be given to him at the end of each rotation. He had placed Magnus in charge, knowing that he needed as much a distraction as he himself did to focus on something other than the loss they had suffered. Felix had been their leader and their friend. His death was one that was felt as deeply by every man in his unit as by himself and he knew that had Sirrus's life not ended on those cliffs, it would still have ended tonight before the Council could intervene. Marcus exhaled heavily as he laid Portia down on her silken bed carefully, uncurling her arm from around his neck. She murmured in her sleep before curling on her side in the fetal position like a child. She looked innocent in repose, incapable of the atrocities Sirrus had accused her of. And yet I heard him so clearly. He solidified my suspicions. How could you have done it, Portia? How did you dare to steal from me the men I most trusted in this world with your treason? Marcus glanced up when he felt a tentative touch to his arm, having forgotten Chloe was there. Her eyes widened as she looked at her fingers, the tips stained with Felix's blood. Her breathing quickened and Marcus caught her chin gently with his hand to focus her. "Tend to your lady, Chloe. She was misused tonight and needs to rest. She has been given some opium for the pain so she should sleep through the night. I have my men posted outside of her door. If you need something, they are at your disposal." "Are you sure you do not wish me to tend to you, Lord Aurelius? You look as if you have been ill used yourself." "No. I am fine, thank you. Have a good evening." "General Aurelius?" Her voice stopped him at the door. He turned, watching her fidget for a moment as if she regretted her decision to call him back. "What is it, Chloe? Speak freely. I will not chastise you for fear. We are all aware of that emotion tonight." "I.." She paused, her eyes imploring as she looked up at him then quickly to her feet. Her skin r where she wrung her hands together. "They say that you have returned home to take the throne...that you are going to become our King. Is it so?" Her eyes lifted to his again, dark eyes widening. "Forgive my impudence for speaking so openly, but please tell me if it is so, lord Aurelius. Since the death of the king we..." she caught herself. "This is a different place. We need you so." She didn't elaborate but he understood the words that remained unspoken. She needed the answer they all did, the answer that he had yet to find in himself. He knew what it was, but he could not yet look at it for fear that he would be unable to deny it if he confronted it face on. He had to take the throne. If he did not, Portia would and the country would fall. Everything that his uncle had built, everything that he had defended, everything Felix had died for, it would all be for nothing if he turned his back on the city now. He did not want the throne anymore now than he ever had, but he had to. All for the sake of the empire. When he didn't answer, he saw the hope in her eyes dwindle slowly, like a flame exposed too long to a strong breeze. Yet one ember remained, struggling to overcome against the darkness she saw in his face. She bowed slowly then moved away leaving him to wonder if that ember could survive the night. * * * It had taken Marcus forever to find the reprieve of sleep. Insomnia had haunted him for hours, the rest he sought elusive even after the floor of his bedchamber was littered with empty wine flasks. He had wanted to know nothing more of the night till dawn broke over the city walls, forcing him to face the stained uniform he had thrown at the foot of the bed and the dark innocuous stains that would blaze red in the sun. His sword had been left propped against the wall instead of cleaned and sheathed as it normally was. He had been governed by discipline for most of his life but tonight he wanted none of it. Tomorrow he would have to face the destiny that he had run from for so many years but this night he wanted to find comfort in the ignorance of sleep. It had been years since he had been able to. The life of soldier permitted few luxuries, the role of a Celaenian general even fewer. It was rare when he permitted himself to indulge in excessive drink because it slowed the reflexes and muddled the mind, two things that could equate death in the battlefield. But death had already come to call on him twice in one night. He did not fear a third visit. Yet e had yet to find peace. His nude body kept tossing and turning against the silken sheets, knotting them around his muscled limbs. The light breeze coming in through the open windows fluttered the silk drapes but could not cool the perspiration that broke out over his skin. He was dreaming of a sparse, barren landscape, looking up at the crest if a hill. The sun was beginning to set, setting the hills ablaze with color. His hand came up over his eyes to block the rays, squinting against the brightness to make out the four figures standing there, hand in hand. He knew them but could not find their names though they had once been so familiar. It was as if his mind had gone blank, tormenting him what he most wanted and now could not have when it was offered Grains of sand abraded his cheeks as wind swept through the landscape abruptly, swirling tunnels around him, making it more difficult to see through the transparent wall which stung his eyes. Both arms were thrown up to protect his face and cheeks though the sand was vicious, leaving any exposed skin chafed and raw. He could hear whispers in the wind, tossed among the dunes each time he tried to focus in. The wind abruptly died down, the whispers becoming screaming voices in his head, all clamoring for his attention. He dropped to his knees, both hands pressed tightly over his ears to attempt to drown out some of the sound. The voices were as clear as the figures that now came into focus, watching him from the crest of the hill. He couldn't see their faces clearly, but he knew them. He could feel their emotions; their pain, their disappointment and their love all jumbled together. His Uncle, Felix, his son and Aurelia. He couldn't see their lips move from this distance, but he heard them. Their voices lowered, coaxing so each was as clear as the next, the sound more painful than the shrieks they had been because their words were clear. Be the man that you are meant to be, my love. Take the throne, Marcus, my son. Avenge my death, father, please. Do not shame our memories with cowardice, Marcus." Marcus our deaths were not your fault. Do not break my heart by harming yourself this way. She cannot be trusted, Marcus. She is not what she seems. Father, come play with us in the gardens. You do not have the luxury of losing yourself in your grief, Marcus. Marcus's s body strained as his dream darkened. His teeth ground together, trying to escape from the pain that his dreams brought him. He had sought relief but found only torture. "Enough! What would you have me do?" Be the man that you are meant to be, my love. Take the throne, Marcus, my son. Avenge my death, father, please. Do not shame our memories with cowardice, Marcus." Marcus our deaths were not your fault. Do not break my heart by harming yourself this way. She cannot be trusted, Marcus. She is not what she seems. Father, come play with us in the gardens. You do not have the luxury of losing yourself in your grief, Marcus. His hands tightened over his ears, forehead touching the sand as he bent over. The voices kept repeating their words over and over, the tones and pitch of sound arcing until they became a shriek louder the wind. His eyes watered, a thin trickle of blood dribbling from his left nostril, metallic as it pooled in the corner of his mouth. As he watched, a shadow appeared, widening and spreading up over the hills like an angel of death. It crept over the barren desert slowly, sweeping over the rocks and obscuring everything it touched beneath an empty darkness. His Uncle was the first to disappear, those gray eyes flashing disappointment. He was followed by Felix who turned his back on him and took his son with him, the little boy's hand flashing once as he waved goodbye. Marcus shouted for them to stop. He stumbled to his feet and tried to follow them, but his legs had become as solid as the craggy surfaces of rock surrounding him, condemning him to watch the people he had failed leave him again. Once more he had been unable to do right by them, unable to give them peace and ensuring he himself would never find it either. He cursed the Gods, his eyes closed as he strained against the invisible force that held him back. Their voices faded slowly, barely a memory. A gentle touch to his jaw made his body stiffen. He knew her scent before he even opened his eyes, the softness of her skin ingrained into his memory as was the touch that had always been uniquely hers. He had had other women in his, their bodies soft and welcoming. But only one had ever made his heart beat with the quickness of a dragonfly's wings and brought him a peace that swept over him like the warmth of blanket. His jaw ticked, disbelief rendering him numb as she smiled up at him, her fingers gentle tracing the old scar that ran along the underside of his jaw. He saw her, but he knew that it wasn't real. It was a trick of the sun and the sand, an illusion that had come to haunt him just as the others had. His pupils dilated till the gray was almost obscured, her own eyes narrowing in confusion as he caught her wrist, pulling it from his face. "Aurelia," he breathed. "No... this cannot be." Her smile faltered as his grip tightened on the fragile bones of her wrist. She was as delicately built as a bird, her eyes large and as deep as dark pools. Her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders, the ends dragging in the sand around them. It all seemed so real, down to the smallest flutter of the hem of her gown. He knew it wasn't. She wasn't warm willing flesh anymore. She was dust, as dray as the sand covering the desert around them. "I saw your body. I... I buried you beneath the willow tree on the hill. The one..." "Where we first met," she finished softly. "I know. I have one like it in the Gardens where we live...It's beautiful. Everything is green, always summer and light. There is no death there, no disease." She gently freed her hand from his, fingertips resting against the side of his face. "We are happy there most of the time. But when I feel your pain, it is like my own, lancing through my chest." Her expression softened as her hand slid down slowly, lying over his heart. "This...it isn't real." "For tonight it can be as real as you wish it, my love. The gods have given us this moment in the dream realm. They know you doubt yourself and they need you to be the man you once were. For everyone's sake." "This is a dream. You are dead and the gods are nothing more than statues that cannot hear, see or feel. They are stone that people rely on for peace of mind, nothing more." "They do hear, Marcus. They see all and they know all. Your cousin, Portia, she cannot be trusted. She was the one who ordered your Uncle's murder. She was responsible for the attempt on your life. She wants control of Celaenia and to give it to her would ruin everything." She paused. Strands of her hair, blew around her as if she was caught in a breeze, but he did not feel the wind himself. He felt nothing except the emptiness inside of himself, reflected in the landscape. He shook his head, one hand moving over the short stubble covering his skull. It felt as dry as the rock beneath his feet, as dead as the women in front of him. "What can a dream know?" "Dreams tell us many things about ourselves, Marcus. They are used as the means to teach us about life and death and the parts of our own souls that we are too afraid to look into. Marcus," she murmured, "You know what I say is true. If you allow her to take the throne, everything you have worked for, everything you have protected in your life will be for naught. You cannot allow that to happen." "Hasn't it already?" When she didn't answer he felt his lips curve into a smile with no humor. Her hand slipped from his face as he shifted, finding himself able to move again. He could feel her at his back though she did not touch him. "I failed, Aurelia. I failed Felix. I failed my uncle and I failed you." "You are not responsible for my death or theirs. Our lives ended because of a twist in the threads of life that the weavers created. You are only the instrument of fate and of the gods, Marcus. You yourself are not one of them. You cannot keep blaming yourself. It is poisoning your soul and it disturbs our peace in the Eternal Gardens. For our sake and for yours you must accept your own fate." "And what if I do not?" He swallowed hard as her hand touched the middle of his spine gently, trailing around as she moved to face him. Her hands came up to cradle his face gently, her lips brushing his jaw as she stood on tiptoe. "Then I will be lost to you forever because you will not be the man I loved since the moment I saw him." Her forehead rested against his as he leaned down, his hands sliding to her hips, thumbs resting in the gentle indentation of her waist. "I want to remain with you. So many nights I dreamt of this moment and now that it is being given to me, I do not want it to end. I want to stay with you, with our soon. I do not want the memory of who I was to haunt my steps any longer with its shadows. I want to be the man that I was once." "Then forgive yourself. We cannot guide you if you do not allow us to. Forgive yourself, Marcus" she murmured. "We already have..." Marcus moaned in his sleep and Portia's breath caught. She tensed against the wall, her hair tumbled around a face that was pale with fear and fatigue. She had woken only a few hours earlier but had been unable to leave her room because of her handmaiden's insistence that she rest. She had feigned sleep, waiting till Chloe's eyes grew heavy before she had slipped out of bed and moved into the secret passages hidden behind a tapestry in her bathing chamber. Sirrus and the guards knew of the ones in her main living chamber. She had made those public knowledge in the event of an invasion in the city, but only she and the architect she had commissioned knew of the one that led from her room through a maze-like catacomb to Marcus's room, and of the other half dozen tunnels that she had requested be added on to give her access throughout the palace when she needed to move beneath a clock of anonymity. She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a long moment before she began to move to where Marcus slept. She had seen his face in her dreams, not mocking her as did so many times during his waking hours. He had had been calling to her, welcoming her to his side to offer his strength and his sword as he had tonight when she had thought herself lost. He had defended her against Sirrus, naming himself her champion and her consort even if he did not realize it himself. She moved towards his side slowly, careful not to wake him from the dreams that seemed to offer him more torment than reprieve. He was sprawled heavily across the mattress, most of the covers twisted into a pile on the floor. Her gaze slowly traced the sun darkened length of his bare limbs that peeked through the sheer white material draped from the four posters. It had been a special commission because its lavishness had appealed to her, but now it seemed to silly and feminine a place for Marcus to rest. The wooden posters seemed frail compared to the strength visible in his own arms and legs even at rest, his body the disciplined perfection of a soldier, not the portliness of a courtier. She stood quietly for a moment, resting her head against the wooden post, one hand resting just below her chin. The other curled at her side, daring to touch nothing. It was not the first time that she had seen the beauty of a man's nude body, but it was the imperfection of Marcus's that made her mouth go dry and desire flicker low in her belly like the birth of a flame. Both Cauis and Sirrus had been smooth skinned and leanly muscled with fine, almost delicate features. Marcus's body was a hard and unforgiving landscape of tanned, scarred muscle and a dark furring on his chest that tapered down into a thin trail down the length of his belly. Her cheeks flushed as she followed it to where it thickened again above that thick ridge of his masculinity. He was still soft, but even at rest he was more impressive than any of her past lovers. For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 09 Slender fingers reached out slowly, tracing the air above the various scars on his bold. Some were flat and almost white against his skin, others still a pale fresh pink. The bandage on his upper left arm needed to be changed again, the linen stained where he had bled through. Yet even with every flaw, he was beautiful, a man far different than her memories. She remembered a man who had always mistrusted her as much as she had despised him. When he had left Celaenia she had seen it as her moment to make every distant dream a reality. She had thought to gain her father's confidence and to prove to him and the High Council that she was the ruler they needed. But it had never occurred. Instead she had been sold into a marriage she did not want, her dreams of ruling her country farther away than they had ever been. Until Marcus returned. She had thought that his return had been a curse from the gods. She'd believed it would mean an end to everything she had planned and that he would do everything in his power to ensure that she would not take the throne. Yet tonight her eyes had been opened. His return was not a curse, but a gift. She knew he suspected her involvement in the death of her father and the attempt on his own life. It was written across his face whenever he looked at her, silent accusation in the lingering looks that might have been flattering from other men. He was not a foolish man. She knew that he had heard Sirrus's words clearly on the cliff. All of his men had heard him. He could have decided her fate on those cliffs. The High Council would never have suspected him if he had said that Sirrus had murdered her before they had reached him. The only people who would have known the truth would have been him and his men. She knew that if he had given the order to end her life, they would have. He had let her live. Not out of love or passion, but because of honor. He was a man who lived his life by a code of ethics that he would not sacrifice no matter what the personal cost to himself. He had proven that tonight. Her expression softened as he moaned in his sleep, her hand hesitating over his brow with a gentleness that felt foreign to her. His sense of honor was the way to the throne and to her dreams. She had found his one weakness. He would protect her if he felt it was his duty. He would marry her if he felt he had no other choice. He would be hers if she carried his child... "I love you, Marcus," Aurelia murmured. Marcus couldn't see her expression with her face buried against his shoulder, but he could feel the emotion behind the words as his arms slid around her, crushing her to his body. He buried his face into the thickness of her hair, breathing in deeply. She smelled like roses and spring water, the scent of the springtime clinging to her. Startled, he looked up. The desert had melted away around them, leaving green flowering fields and flowing brooks that beckoned gently. In the distance he saw a small house with a thatched roof, cooled by the shade of the willow trees surrounding it. She smiled at his confusion, her hands sliding over his. "I told you. This is a gift from the gods, a taste of what you will have in the next life if you can survive this one and complete your destiny." "This looks like home," he murmured. "That is because it will be one day. But not now. You can only have this peace when the weavers decide to cut the strings of your life and that will not be for many years. First you must take the throne and lead a long and happy life ruling your country." She paused, her smile gentle, as radiant as the sunshine warm on his face. "I want you to lead a long and prosperous life, Marcus. Lead the people well, marry again. Have sons and daughters to succeed you." "I cannot do that." "Of course you can. Life is for the living, Marcus. If you are not going to experience all that life has to offer you, it is all for nothing." She smiled, dark eyes glittering with unshed tears as she brushed his lips with her fingertips. "I now you love me still but all I can be now is a memory. You will not sully it by loving another. I will still be here. We will still be here..." She trailed off, smiling as she stepped back. She extended one arm out, looking over her shoulder at something she couldn't see. His eyes narrowed, his breath catching when he heard childish laughter. When Aurelia turned back to face him, he slid to his knees heavily. He couldn't speak around the lump that formed in his throat when he met mirror images of his own eyes. His son smiled, unaware of the overwhelming emotion that could bring a hardened general to his knees. "Adrian?" "Hello father. Mother said we would see you again one day." Marcus didn't speak, the fierceness of his embrace speaking for him as he crushed the child to his chest. His hand supported the little boy's head, breathing in the clean scent of his skin as he pressed kisses to every inch of his face till he giggled and squirmed away. His expression was open and guileless as he rested his one hand on his father's shoulders, the other touching the damp tracks on his face. "You should not be sad, Father. Mother says we have to be happy because then it makes you happy. We like it when you're happy too." He smiled over at Aurelia as she knelt beside them and she nodded, meeting Marcus's eyes. "We all do." Marcus followed her gaze upward to see Felix and his Uncle standing there. He stood slowly, keeping his son's hand firmly in his. "Uncle...I..." The elderly man shook his head to cut him off, his hands firm on Marcus's shoulders. "There is no need for words, my son. We all know what is in your heart. We have always known. It is time to embrace your destiny, Marcus." "Forgive me, Uncle for not seeing my fate clearly." "Hindsight is what makes us human, Marcus." He paused, glancing at Felix who nodded. "He is right, Marcus. You have the opportunity to make things right now. Take the throne and lead the people. You know in your heart that Portia is not the path to its happiness." He smiled and saluted from the waist out. "It was a pleasure serving you, General. Lead them well." Marcus returned the salute then squatted down to look into his son's face. One hand smoothed back his hair, trying to brand his image into his memory as he was now and as he would be forever. "Know that I love you more than my life. I will see you again one day." The little boy smiled. "I know. Goodbye father." He threw his arms around marcus's neck, hanging on tightly for a moment. Marcus's eyes closed as he kissed the top of his head and then reluctantly released him. Aurelia came to his side, her hand slipping into his as Adrian ran towards Felix's retreating figure. His laughter hung in the air as Felix swung him up onto his shoulders, both of them disappearing around the bend. His uncle lingered for a moment. "Enjoy the time you have, Marcus and know that I have never been prouder to call you my son." Marcus blinked back the hot sting of tears when Aurelia touched his face to bring his attention back to her. His uncle had vanished as had the green fields around them. They were standing in his old home, in the bedroom they had once shared. Aurelia's gown had changed to a sheer white shift that welcomed his hungry gaze. "I have missed you so much. There is so much I must say to you. I..." She cut off his words with a gentle finger laid over his lips. Her lips parted into a smile as she replaced her touch with the caress of her mouth. Her kiss was gentle, forgiving of every sin he had committed. He slid his hand into the softness of her hair, cradling her head as he angled her mouth for his kiss. She tasted like honey and the desire she had always inspired in him. Every touch from her hands brought back memories of their bodies joined, tangled together in their bed. He remembered the gentle scratch of her nails along his spine, driving him mad with passion. He groaned into her mouth now when her hands moved down his back, cupping the firm flesh of his buttocks with her palms, claiming him as hers as much as she was his. He pulled back for a moment to stare into her face. Calloused thumbs moved gently over her cheeks, wiping away her tears. She smiled and moved willingly back into his kiss, his name sighed as he enjoyed the soft heat of her lips and the damp pleasure of her mouth. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip, dipping inside of her mouth to taste her passion. They had been apart for far too long and now that he had her in his arms, he would not let go until the gods parted them. The downy mattress sank gently beneath her weight as Portia climbed into the bed beside Marcus. Her intent had been to seduce him when he was most vulnerable from the loss of Felix and Gemella, but now she hesitated when she saw the peace that settled across his face as if his dreams had taken him to a place that he could never find when he was awake. It was the one time she had ever seen him completely at rest and she found herself reluctant to change that. She had never expected to feel such things for any man, much less for Marcus, a man she had almost destroyed. He had always been an obsession, but from the moment he had picked her up in his arms and carried her away from the horrors of the night, he had become her passion. She had finally found a man who was strong enough to be her consort. He could make her every dream come true if she could only convince him. Wealth could not. The allure of her body had failed, but could he deny the blood of his own loins? Marcus was a man of honor. She knew that he would marry her if she conceived his child, but would he forgive her deceit? She hesitated for a moment longer and then allowed her shift to slip to the floor in a whisper of silk as she settled carefully beside him. He would have to forgive her. She could accept not less. She wanted to be with him and if she carried his child, there would always be a part of him that loved her as well. Portia leaned over him, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders to graze the strong lines of his chest. He looked much younger when he dreamed, the cares and worries of his world no longer on his shoulders in slumber. His lashes were thick, brushing his dark cheeks, lips wide and sensually shaped. She could smell wine on his breath, betraying the source of his deep slumber. The flavor still clung to his lips as she brushed her mouth over his, learning the shape of his mouth, contouring it gently with the tip of her tongue. Aurelia moaned into his mouth as his kisses deepened, devouring her mouth with the pent up passion within him. Her hands traced the muscle in his arm and shoulders, encouraging him silently to posses her. He could feel the urgency in her hands as she helped him to pull his tunic over his head and toss it to the side. His hands moved over her shoulders, her skin softer than the silk straps he pushed down to send her shift pooling to the floor. She moaned as his hands lifted her into his arms, encouraging her quaking limbs to wrap around his hips. Her arms twined around his neck as he walked towards the bed, her tongue sliding against his with an urgency that assured him she needed to feel him buried inside that sweet heat he had been too long denied as much as he did. He bore her down gently onto the downy mattress, easing her back as his body covered hers. He wanted to thrust into her until he was as deep as his body allowed, butting up against the entrance to her womb with every stroke. He needed to reclaim her body, to convince himself that at least for this night, she was his and that not even death could separate them. When her hands touched his face, he lingered for a moment, enjoying the smooth warmth of her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. Her gentleness calmed him, reminding him that they had only this moment and he wanted it to last for as long as the gods granted it to him. His hand cupped the back of her neck as he bore her to the ground, the sand a warm blanket beneath them. He explored her lips, holding her a willing captive with one hand, the other stroking the length of her spine, tracing with his fingertips from the base of her neck to the rounded curve of her bottom, creating a path of goosebumps along her skin. She moaned beneath his mouth, his lips sweet and tantalizing, tempting and coaxing when he knew they didn't need to be. She wanted to be with him and would have accepted his primal instincts, but he held back. He took his time, branding the taste of her mouth across his heart. Aurelia slid slender fingers into his hair, curving them to trace the whorl of his ear, before sliding down the side of his neck and back up as he shifted. Her gaze was loving, cheeks flushing with awareness as he nipped a gentle line down the slender column of her throat, nuzzling the warm hollow at the base. It was a warm resting place for his tongue and her body arched in welcome when he blew across the dampness left there. She breathed his name as he moved down her body with the familiarity of years between them. He watched her eyes close in pleasure as he gently rubbed his stubbled cheek against the softness of her skin, sensitizing it to his touch. The warmth that moved through her skin pleased him as he covered every inch with kisses. When he breached her breasts, his palms traced over them once, making her arch. They were warm and full, filling his hand perfectly, reminding him of all he had missed. Lips replaced hands in his exploration as he nuzzled between her breasts, her cries reaching his ears when she felt the damp heat of his mouth cover one stiff, dusky peak. "Marcus!" she cried out, her hands going to his head, feeling the firm tug of his mouth all the way to her womb. His teeth nibbled and she arched beneath him, pulling him tighter against her so he could feel the damp heat that was spreading, slipping down her leg to moisten his skin. Marcus's eyes darkened with desire as he moved down her body, watching her face as his fingers trailed through the warm, springy curls covering her most intimate pleasure. Her pupils dilated with pleasurable anticipation, knowing what he was going to do next when his tongue curved around her belly button and then moved down a kiss at a time. He had always enjoyed lingering between her thighs, drinking in her cried as his tongue and lips drunk of her sex. "Tell me," he murmured. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear and her fingers threaded through his hair, her expression gentling even in the midst of her passion. "I love you, Marcus." Portia cried out the words he asked for as Marcus dipped his head, sliding his tongue through the wet channel of her sex, tasting the sweetness of her nectar with a soft growl of masculine pleasure. Her heat surrounded him, the silky texture of her skin as arousing as her taste. He was drowning in her and wasn't willing to let the pleasure end. Portia's eyes rolled back as his arms slid beneath her thighs, his shoulders holding her open to his questing lips and tongue, dominating her in ways she had never allowed another man to. She moaned as his tongue found the tight bud of her pleasure, teasing it between his lips and teeth till she thought she would sob from the overwhelming sensations. Her skin was flushed from his attention, her breath quickening with every caress that had set her body aflame. She had been unable to keep from exploring his body when he had moaned in his sleep and his body had hardened in response to whatever he was dreaming. She had urged that growth between her lips and tongue when she had sucked him into her throat. He had felt firm and foreign against her tongue, the flavor of his skin making her hungrier for more. When his eyes had opened, her breath had caught, fearful that he would waken and throw her from his bed. But those gray depths had been unfocused and unseeing, his thoughts muddled with grief and too much to drink. He looked at her and saw only the specters he wanted to When had murmured the name of another she had pretended it was hers as she arched in his arms. His eyes were closed now as he slid one hand between them, cupping her mound. Portia's fingers tightened in his hair as his thumb slid through silky black curls before dipping into her body which tightened in welcome, trying to pull him deeper. She moved restlessly beneath him, needing more than this gentleness that pricked at her conscience like no other act ever had. She knew he wasn't seeing her, wasn't experiencing her. He was making love to a ghost. It was in Aurelia's arms that he was finding solace in, her womb that he wanted to fill with his seed. He loved Aurelia like he would never love her. The surprising pain that realization brought to her heart was lost in the wave of pleasure that swept through her body when he moved his hand and pushed two fingers in deeper. Lips and hands worked together to bring her to that shining moment when there was no guilt, no deceit, only pleasure that for a moment could make everything seem right. She sobbed his name as her orgasm swept over her, heat spiraling through her core in wave after wave until her body collapsed beneath his. Her nerve endings felt over-sensitized, every inch of her body aware of him as he brushed kissed along that tingling bud and back up her taut belly. Her throat tightened as the backs of his fingers brushed across her cheek, wiping away the tears that trickled silently down her skin. He consoled her without words, his mouth covering hers with so much emotion that it stabbed like a knife through her belly. She had never experienced that depth of feeling for anyone in her life. She had cared for Sirrus in her way but she had never tasted such devotion on his lips or felt her heart swell to bursting like this. He kissed her like he couldn't bear to lose her, passion and desperation all tangled together into something so complicated her head spun. For one moment she considered pulling away from him and making him sober to see the truth. She wanted him to see her for who she was, not for the ideal that was ash and dust. This is the only way to save your country, Portia. You know it now just as you knew it when you planned to seduce him. You wanted to make him love you. But not love him in return. Her arms twined around his neck as his hand slid through her hair. She felt him slide up her body, teasing the downy skin on her inner thighs with the wide curved head of his shaft. She moaned into his mouth, teasing his lips with her breath when he pressed against her opening. She was soaked to her knees already and the anticipation only made her wetter for him. Marcus felt Aurelia's distress and sought to comfort her with his lips and body. She feared losing him as much as he feared waking from this dream. He could not assuage all of her fears, but he could make her forget them for a time by distracting her with his love. He was determined to make it so as he kissed away the dampness on her cheeks and then brushed kisses over her cheeks and each of her closed eyelids. "Ssh," he murmured, one hand cradling her cheek, the other moving gently over her breasts and belly which was as flat now as it had been before the birth of their son, not after when it had been a gentle slope he had loved to rest his head on. Something about that bothered him, as if there was some importance to it. But he didn't stop to question, her peace more important to him than his own. "Do not cry, love. We are together now. If only for this moment, for this night, you are mine and I am yours. I will love you till the ends of time. I swear that to you." For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 09 She didn't respond but he felt her mouth move under his with a sudden passion, her thighs bracketing his hips as her body opened for his possession. His mouth found her breast, his lips gliding around the beaded tip, nipping and nibbling until her hands came around him, her nails digging into the skin of his back. He exhaled against her skin as he pushed into her with a thorough gentleness that stole her breath and made him struggle to find control among the overwhelming pleasure of all that tight honeyed heat around him. "Oh, Gods, yes Aurelia." He withdrew and then slid in again slowly, finding a gentle rhythm that disintegrated when her hands moved to his buttocks, pulling him in deeper. He groaned, his thrusts intensifying as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the scent of her body and the sweet friction that their bodies created together. She was warm and wet, welcoming him in with encouraging cries till his head spun from the pleasure. He wanted to make it last for an eternity, to keep pounding into her as she cried out, her body milking his from within. He wanted to keep her body arched beneath his as his name burst from her lips, repeated over and over again like music to his ears. One hand moved beneath her hips to tilt them higher for a deeper angle of penetration. He felt himself sliding against her womb with every upward stroke, her body spasming continually around him. He growled against the sweet flesh at the base of her throat as the pressure in his body built, his shaft twitching as her inner muscles clamped down, creating a friction that had him gritting his teeth against the urge to spill his seed deep in her body. He had filled her belly once and when she had told him he was going to be a father, it had been the happiest moment of his life. Never had he felt more complete. He wanted to find that peace again, to see her belly extend slowly with the new life that was growing within her. It was a fantasy but this night was all about the impossible. "I love you," he murmured against Portia's ear, breaking her heart a thousand times over. She had often wondered what punishment the gods would inflict upon her for her treachery. Now she knew when he offered promises meant for another. She could hear their laughter, sullying the sweetness of Marcus's vow. "Do you?" she whispered. Marcus's lips teased his wife's as he let his hand slide from her waist, watching as it pressed against her soft mound, his fingers slipping through wet curls to find her bud. Her expression was vulnerable as her eyes met his, seeming a soft gray instead of their usual brown, a trick of the candlelight. "I do. Know that I love you now and one day I will be with you and our son and you will never leave my side." Her eyes sought his face as he pressed down upon that little knot of sensation, pinching the bundle of nerves until he felt her control break again. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she went over that shining edge of pleasure. He fell into it a moment later, screaming her name as he jerked once, twice and then again, spurting hot seed into her body, filling her belly. He felt her tremble beneath him as he pushed deeper, not wanting to be parted from her. Portia pressed a hand against her mouth when he collapsed against her. His head rested between her breasts, lips lazily brushing a taught nipple. She started to move but he only allowed her to role to her side before he followed. Gentle, loving kisses peppered her shoulders with the heaviness of the lashes of a whip. The hot sting of tears blinded her as a heavy arm slid over her waist, possessively splaying over her lower belly to keep her body flush against his. His lips brushed her ear sleepily, soothing her as he finally found his own moment of peace. She heard his breathing deepen after a few moments and felt him relax against her though his hold didn't loosen. Portia lightly touched the top of his hand, stroking over it. He grunted in his sleep, pulling her even closer in response and she didn't bother trying to escape him. What had been done could not be undone. The gods had spoken her punishment and so would it be... * * * I know, I know. Portia is a PIECE of work! But love her or hate her, I hope you let me know what you think of this chapter and of the series in general. Take care. --Joy