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.
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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.
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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.
