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.