Chapter Text
As captivating as the Basilica Aemilia was to the eye, its contents weren't as pleasing. Not to the sense of smell anyway. It was barely midday and the stench of sweat hung thickly in the air. Men dressed in fine varying colored toga's filtered in and out of the large building like clockwork, some in search of a particular magistrate and others seemingly lost entirely in search of the right room of court.
This wasn't a place Clarke had ever entertained herself with, let alone associate herself with. The law wasn't exactly one of her passions, and she definitely didn't have any experience in it but today's proceedings were of the utmost importance. Lucky for her, she had brought along a more than adequate companion.
Sir Leander Blake.
He was quite experienced in law and could apparently hold a debate for much longer than anyone would care to entertain which made him perfect for today's argument. That is if anyone would care to have an argument with him but as much was doubtful. The magistrates knew who he was, and he was a fairly dreaded man to face off against.
As if it wasn't bad enough that the throne itself brought about the charges against the High Priestess, having Leander on the side of the prosecution practically made the case a guaranteed victory. Yet here they stood anyway, waiting for the proceedings to begin.
Beside the walkway into the room of court stood Clarke arm in arm with Leader's mistress, Katherine, who was gazing around the vast room in intrigue. She found it rather interesting how much one official resembled another. If somebody would tell her they were related, she had no doubt she'd believe them.
Leander on the other hand was already inside of the court, restlessly tapping his index finger on his chair's studded wooden armrest. He had instructed Clarke that it'd likely be better if she were to wait out of sight. There was a high chance that the court wouldn't even ask for her to bear witness to the pending accusation of treason against the citizens of Rome.
Today's proceedings were clear cut according to him.
After Clarke had explained to him why the High Priestess is the most likely of being guilty of said crime, he had no trouble believing her. She has no reason to lie to me, he thought. Frankly, Clarke did feel bad at first to spin the lie upon him, but it took little convincing from Valentina that this was the right thing to do for the Empire.
And besides, most of Rome was built upon lies, adding a few more would definitely not make a difference. If one didn't stab a few people in the back while ruling, then you weren't truly ruling according to Valentina. As much made sense to Clarke. Being the Emperor or Empress of Rome wasn't an easy task and sometimes people were going to have to be sacrificed for the greater good.
Victory stood on the back of sacrifice after all.
It's not as if she would sacrifice innocent people though. But Luna was a fitting candidate to sacrifice since she was far from innocent. She was recalcitrant.
"Doesn't this seem like the theaters?" Katherine asks, tilting her head to the side in hopes of getting a glimpse into the bustling room. Once again roars of laughter echoed through the room, men and women clearly enjoying the chit-chat being shared before the proceedings would commence.
"More like the Colosseum, I'd say. My father used to express that when thing's didn't go as people wanted it to go on these days then they just about tore each other limb from limb." Clarke notes as she shuffles on her feet. "I hope that doesn't happen today. It's the last thing we need." She didn't have a lot of faith that things would go smoothly today, but she was hopeful anyway.
Inside the room of court, all the magistrates seated themselves before the presiding magistrate bellowed the single word of "Silence!" over the entirety of the room. As ordered, the command rained over everyone. "Following the application of treason against the High Priestess of Mercury known as Luna, the court will now hear the arguments. Prosecution, we will hear from you first."
Leander stood from his seat calmly, taking a few steps forward before halting. He swayed once, biting down on his bottom lip before starting. "The court will hear that the High Priestess has orchestrated the unlawful freedom of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of slaves. Under the guise of night, she has ordered her far too pious followers to free slaves that she had no ownership of."
Loud talk began among those in court who shared their opinions with one another. This was a common occurrence, they hardly ever waited for the opportune time to speak and Leander didn't bother to wait for them to quiet down.
"It's been found that her people sold the slaves to neighboring cities, and have even gone as far as to sailing them overseas in order to sell them for even more money. As we all know, the kings, queens, and monarchs all alike don't mind paying a hefty pouch of coin for hard-working Romans. And with all of this..." The crowds grew even louder, pounding their fists into the air in anger and outrage. "All of this leaves our citizens poorer just because of her greed."
Leander turned away from the crowd of people, back to the seven magistrates in his final opening testimony. "Today you will hear from the leader of the collegium, Roan, and his counterpart, Anya. They will act as witnesses. They're here to share with you how much they've lost in capital and slaves. Grievous loss. And how this leaves them in a predicament of not being able to arm their people now. Whose to protect the plebs now when the Praetorian and soldiers are on the other side of the city?!"
Leander turned back to the rowdy crowd, making eye contact with those who would have it. With one hand, he pointed behind him, directly in the direction of the Priestess. Even now she was smiling, not one with teeth, but only a smile of pure delight and enjoyment.
"The High Priestess of Mercury is guilty." He says simply. "Of treason, and uncanny greed. Families are poorer and broken, and others are now in danger because the collegium can no longer protect them without funds! I implore all of you ... punish this woman with all the ferocity you can muster."
Leander turned back to the magistrates in finality, panning his glare down at the man who would act as the Priestess' defense and representative on the day. "I conclude by saying that I suppose it's probably fitting that this greed-ridden woman is defended by a man that is nothing more than a rat without morals and honor. One that is after riches even more than she is. By Zeus, I'm willing to wager that she's paying him with the money stolen from the Roman citizens."
The defense stood from his seat, stomping toward Leander clearly offended. Leander only grinned. "Paxton." He greets mischievously. "Always a pleasure to see you in court. I do wonder how they continue to allow you within these sacred walls. Thieving bastard and all." He teases mockingly.
"Very grand words," Paxton retorts loudly to the people watching. "From a common swindler himself that is notorious for talking all but a few charming words to get his way. Those important know that no Roman patron is safe in your vile company." A few howls of laughter echoed from the crowd, followed by a handful of "boos".
The few shared words among them seemed to be nothing but not-so-harmless banter to paint each other in terrible colors.
Leander turned to the presiding magistrate with a raised eyebrow which only received him the calm dismissive word of "Defense". Which in this case allowed Paxton to state his argument next. Leander shrugged a single bored shoulder before returning to his own seat.
"The court will hear that it's not the High Priestess of Mercury who should be facing a charge of treason today, but Clarke Gryphem instead!" Paxton states rather confidently. "Daughter of the divine late Jake Gryphem, eleventh Emperor of Rome." After an assortment of gasps and oh's, the crowd fell quiet. "Clarke Gryphem." He repeats again.
In the corner of his eye, a figure catches his attention. In a seeming flash, his head cocked to the side to find the Empress herself. "It seems I'm being called for." She says tauntingly, yet loud enough for all present to hear her. "That can be the only reason for you to spew my name not once, but twice. And you really should be sure to address me accordingly, sir."
At the sight of the Empress, Leander straightened out his posture, sitting straight up in his chair once again. Suddenly these rather tiresome and easy proceedings had become worrisome to an extent. It could take but a few words from her that could potentially be interpreted wrong and the entirety of the case could fall through the figurative roof. It was no secret that the magistrates attacked words from women like vultures on decaying meat.
"Nobody called you as a witness, Imperial Majesty." Paxton blunders, stumbling over her title.
"Seriously?" She huffs. "You're telling everyone I'm guilty of this ludicrous crime. And may I remind you that such a false move against me, is a move against the Emperor. And he's already upset enough about this waste of time. Not only are you wasting the magistrate's time, but you're also wasting my time. And finally, you're wasting the Emperor's time as well."
It was a bluff, and Clarke knew that very well. If anyone would care to call on Bellamy himself, he wouldn't show. He was still ill and certainly didn't know anything about the current situation at hand. Once he recovers from his inflicted ailment, she'll simply enlighten him that she fought for the Empire in his absence. His Empire she'll be sure to highlight. She'll be sure to let him know about his power; or as she would bluntly consider it to herself alone, so-called dominance.
All in all, this official case was just to cover her own ass in the end.
Paxton remained quiet, taking a large gulp of air. He feared Blake and all of his careless power. Needless to say, they already weren't on the right foot with each other due to his own reckless moves in the past. The last thing he wanted to do was anger the Emperor even more.
After a second's worth of consideration as Paxton sees the trial crumble in front of his eyes just by the mere mention of the Emperor, he swings around toward the magistrates. "This is a futile attempt from her, you must see that! She's trying to undermine this trial and intimidate the Priestess into making a false declaration!"
"I'm the presiding magistrate and I'll be the one to decide what this is." He merely replies as he leans toward a fellow magistrate to hear what he has to say about the matter. Clarke on the other hand spared a glance in the presiding magistrate's direction and that's where she finds her dear friend Marcus. This really was a set open and closed case.
Paxton saw the clear uninterestedness of the presiding magistrate and swung around toward the onlooking crowd of non-presiding magistrates again in hopes that they would agree with him. "I protest this! She has not been called as a witness. This is unlawful!"
"Anyone who is accused in the public has the right to reply," Katherine says as a matter of fact from the doorway, entering all the way until she stands beside the Empress. "Surely you can't deny her that. That would be unlawful."
"She's not a witness either!" Paxton hollers, referring to Katherine.
"I'll allow it," Marcus says with a sway of his hand. "Silence!" He once again roars to quiet the cries of the people. Only once the room comes to a seeming standstill itself, and the attention of the people returns to their Empress, does Marcus speak. "Did you then do as it is said, your highness?" He asks as the crowd waits in dire anticipation. "Are you responsible for freeing the slaves and causing all of this loss and havoc?"
"No. I'm not responsible for any of this."
From behind Clarke, Paxton flees forward with his hands in the air again, a desperate pleading look on his face. "Of course she would say that!" The crowd of non-presiding magistrates bursted out in laughter, some leaning forward in their seats with pure glee. Paxton had instantly made a fool of himself with the scene of his irrational anguish.
"To be completely transparent with you, my honorable people, I have much more pressing matters to occupy myself with. I hardly have time for a good night's rest, let alone time to free slaves." Clarke adds and to that the crowds laugh again at how ridiculous the trial had become now that the Empress had added a sense of rationality to it.
"Really, this is absurd." She adds with a shake of her head and mocking furrowed eyebrows.
The Empress moved to where Leander sat, taking the seat next to him before crossing her one leg over the other.
Paxton shook his head, fairly hopeless. But perhaps he still had one last hope. "If the court will hear it. I would like to call the defendant to speak. With that, the court will hear the one and only truth."
Calmly, Luna stood from her seat and took to the so-called stage. She pouted her lips and shrugged her shoulders before tilting her head downward. "I know when to admit to my defeat. And today, I am admitting to such." Paxton was the first to gasp, grabbing hold of Luna's shoulder to hopefully talk some sense into her. But he was silenced with only one look from her.
Clarke had caught a glimpse of the glare and it was enough to send a chill down her spine. Not once in her life had she felt such a coldness rush over her bare skin. Even she felt convinced at that moment to remain quiet even though she wasn't saying a single word.
"It would not matter what I say today because I know that the magistrates have already made their mind up about me." She declares. "And I'm fine with that. This city has become far too small for me anyway, so yes, I admit to this crime. I freed the slaves; every single one of them. And I sold the lot for carts and carts full of gold that no one in this room will ever find."
The Empress furrowed her eyes at the false confession. Luna shared a quick glance with her, flashing the ghost of a grin in her direction. The grin itself said something that Clarke couldn't decipher right away. But the one thing she was sure to remember for the rest of her life were the words "This city has become far too small for me anyway."
Rome was anything and everything but small. What had she meant by that?
Leander himself stared at the High Priestess dumbfounded. No one had ever so easily confessed to a crime. So nonchalantly. So carelessly. Her confession was enough to make him question his previous surety that she was indeed guilty without a doubt. He looked to the Empress who shared his expression of furrowed eyebrows and that was when he knew that he had been played by her.
"I see." Marcus states. "In that case, the magistrates and I require no deliberation. We find you guilty of the capital crime of treason against both the throne and the citizens of Rome. You are charged with the sentence of death. As a courtesy due to your honesty, we will grant you the option of which fate you wish to endure; a public hanging, public crucifixion, or death by fire."
"I am grateful for the options. A hanging will do just fine, thank you." She answers before returning to her seat. She seemed as calm as a white dove, or a baby deer chomping on its favorite patch of grass. Luna certainly didn't look like someone who was about to meet their very end. Rationality said that she should at least be manic in the least.
Equally confused as Leander and grateful that this case has closed itself, Marcus nods his head once. "Very well. Your hanging is scheduled for sunset today." Normally the crowds gathered would voice their opinions after a verdict but on this day they remained quiet. Eerily so. The silence was unsettling. "Adjourned. We will return in the next candle line to discuss the subsequent cases."
As if the most shocking confession hadn't been uttered just a few minutes ago, all magistrates and spectators quietly stood and left. Clarke desperately tried to compose herself at that moment; she was in utter shock. She had half expected this case to become a bloodbath of sorts or at least a battle of words but it was nothing of the sort.
The most noise to come out of this case came out of Leander and Paxton based on personal judgments of one another. Clarke had at least expected Luna to shout at some point, to point a finger in her direction and call for her head but once again, nothing of the sort happened.
And her death ... it was scheduled. It was practically set in stone. She was going to be executed in front of all who would come to watch.
Just a few months ago, Luna stood in the throne room swearing to Blake that if he doesn't get a hand of control over Clarke, then she will have to take drastic measures herself. By the gods, even then she had made it clear to the Emperor that she knew it was Clarke responsible for all the slaves going free.
But today? Today she sang a completely different song; one that would end her own life.
"May I request a private audience with you, Empress?" Leander asks in a whisper, still seated beside Clarke. His gaze remained in front of him, intensely gazing at the empty seat of the presiding magistrate. The room had cleared out some time ago, and the Praetorian had returned Luna to the dungeons a hundred feet or so away from the Basilica.
"Of course." She answers eventually with a heavy sigh afterward. "Wait for me in the throne room. I just want to consult with my advisor about an urgent matter. I won't be long."
//
"She confessed," Clarke says without skipping a beat. "She confessed in front of everybody." Octavia closed the heavy doors behind the Empress as she marched into her quarters, apparently knowing that Valentina was already waiting. "Why would she do that?"
In the middle of the room, Valentina picked and prodded at an arrangement of flowers trying to get them to present exactly the way she wanted them to. They were violets of such an intense azure blue that they almost seemed purple.
"I wish I could tell you, but I'm at a loss for words." She gasps, turning away from the flowers before crossing her arms over her chest. "Just like that? Did she speak with you before the case was heard? Did she look at you? Threaten you?"
"No, no, none of that. She barely looked at me once; grinning." Clarke busied herself with a jug of wine, pouring herself one cup before immediately gulping it down and pouring another. "She stood in front of everyone and said she had done all of it. She didn't mention anybody else. She didn't blame anybody else. Marcus even gave her options of execution, and she chose to hang with a smile. She's fucking demented, gods hear me now."
Valentina leaned back against the heavy table behind her with a thump. She took her bottom lip between her teeth in thought and consideration. It didn't make sense as to why Luna would confess to something she hadn't done, and especially not when she knew that Clarke herself was guilty.
Unless this was exactly the outcome Luna had wanted. But then again, why would she favor an outcome that would assure her death? Was she planning an escape? That had to be it, hadn't it?
"Double the Praetorian stationed at the dungeons. I fear she's planning an escape, and double your guard detail as well. As competent as Octavia and Ontari are... if the masses of the temple come after you, they won't be able to stop them." Valentina shook her head in second thought. "Actually, remain in your room at least until her execution is over. I'll go to oversee it myself."
"I've doubled it already. Only the most trusted." Clarke had a similar intuition about the matter once she tried to figure out why Luna would choose this consequence. It had to be an escape attempt, it couldn't be anything else. "I have to meet with Leander soon though. I suspect that he has realized that I haven't been completely truthful with him."
"He's a smart man," Valentina declares. "Don't tell him everything. Only tell him what you have to. What happens in this Empire has little to nothing to do with him. He's but a tool, make him understand that. If he has a problem, make him aware that Greece is yours too. Remember that all the ground these people walk on is yours."
Clarke nodded her head while taking a deep breath. Valentina was right. The Empire was her's, and Leander's homeland was her's too. If push came to shove then she will take his homeland from him, banish him. Of course that would anger Bellamy but she could probably manage to convince him that it was for the greater good. Somehow.
"Very well. I'll do my best. Call for Anya and Roan. I have to speak with them as well."
Valentina nodded her head once before Clarke swung around heading for the exit of her quarters. Outside Octavia and Ontari loitered around in the hallway, both trying to prod their own minds for the reason Luna would confess to something she had no hand in. Both women knew Clarke was responsible, and Octavia was well aware of the history between the High Priestess and Clarke.
Their relationship has started half desperate. Clarke was desperate for answers about her mother's death, and furthermore of all that Egypt entailed. Somehow the High Priestess had answers for all her questions, but beyond that, all the answers she had given were accurate to the very t.
However, when Luna began to lose her funded 'taxes' for all slaves sold since slaves were being freed, she became quite an unfriendly disgruntled individual. She wanted blood and she was sure to get it.
All that transpired today was the exact opposite of what things portrayed themselves to be.
It physically didn't make sense for Luna to confess.
"I have to go see Leander." The Empress says as she passes by her guards. Her dress glided behind her as she just about drifted through the many hallways. Ontari had noted on my occasions that it never looked as if the woman was putting one foot in front of the other, it was as if she floated. Perhaps it was the unimaginable grace that accompanied the Empress at all times.
"Are you pleased with the outcome?" Octavia asks out of the blue.
"Of course," Clarke answers shortly. "But what has transpired doesn't make sense to me either if that's what you're wondering. I had no hand in her confession. I was expecting her to deny all of it. It has me wondering if someone may have intimated her into it, someone that is working in my favor. But smack me dead for I don't know who it may be."
Octavia shook her head in silence. Who could possibly intimidate a woman as influential as the High Priestess of Mercury? She was royalty in her own right. People worshipped her, she would never go down without an excessive fight.
"Would you like us to ask around?" Ontari asks, not really all that convinced.
"No, Ontari. Leave well enough alone. Let's not meddle where there is no meddling needed." Clarke answers before rounding the final corner into the throne room. Her guards fell quiet then, halting at the door; they were not to speak when official business was at hand.
Leander and Katherine were seated in a small newly built gallery fairly close to the main throne in the room. Seemingly so indulged in their own conversation, they hardly hear the Empress whisk past them; only when she sits down on her throne and clears her throat do they look up.
"So?" She questions. "You wished to speak with me."
Leander nervously scratched the back of his neck before getting to his feet. In the short yet prolonged time of knowing Leander, Clarke had never seen him in such a rut, or unsure of himself. He had always been confident in himself, no matter who he stood in front of or what he was to face.
"Is she guilty?"
"You heard the court say she is, no?"
"Yes." He confirms before stopping himself. He slightly tilted his head down as he pursed his lips, willing himself forward to continue. He was going to tread into the territory of accusation. And the last woman he wanted to accuse of something was the Empress of the Empire. "I just wonder if they didn't perhaps prosecute the wrong person. Surely, you wouldn't want to kill the-"
"Wrong person?" Clarke says affirmatively, finishing Leander's sentence for him. "She's the right person, Leander. Why you're questioning the presiding magistrate's decision is beyond me. What has gotten into you?"
"My apologies, Empress. I just noticed your expression and it made me wonder if you do not perhaps have the same suspicion as me."
Clare readjusted herself in the large bronze throne, throwing one leg over the other to get comfortable. "And what may that suspicion be?" She clasped her hands together in her lap momentarily before unclasping them again. She was fidgeting, that much was obvious. Her sense of nervousness was bubbling to the surface.
"That she's not guilty, of course. I saw the way your eyebrows furrowed; you were confused. Confused as to why she would confess to this. You were insistent to me that she was guilty when we spoke before the trial, but the moment she admitted to it you became incredulous."
Clarke remained quiet. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"You were accused of this crime, your highness." Leander states a bit shaky. "If you are guilty of it..."
"Then what? I get hung? Crucified? Burned?" Clarke guffawed unhumorously as she uncrossed her legs. She didn't want to be unkind to Leander at any point, but her position was hanging in the balance, quite literally. "I'm not guilty, Leander. In fact, I implore you to listen to the streets. The people believe your dear nephew is guilty. I made it my personal duty to find the person guilty of this in order to keep the Emperor's name clean."
At that Leander takes a step backward. He had heard rumors of Bellamy being guilty of this but as much was impossible since he was bedridden. And even he knows that the people couldn't find out that the Emperor was ill because word spreads fast. If the people would know about his ailment it would be an open invitation to whomever to attack the Empire from any side.
The enemies of the Roman world could simply just not know.
"I understand, your highness. I apologize for questioning you. You've done the right thing." The Empress had simply acted to leave Bellamy's name untainted all the while portraying that he isn't sick at all. To the eyes of the public, the criminal has been found and convicted. But Leander couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the true perpetrator decides to act again.
"Is that all?" Clarke asks, a solid stone cold expression in place.
"Such vim," Katherine comments quite giddy with a smile before hooking her arm with Leander's. "Come, love. You've taken enough of her time. I'm sure she has a lot of other things to get to."
Leander quickly nodded at his mistress before bowing in the Empress' direction. "My apologies again, Imperial Majesty. We bid you a good day." With a bow from Katherine, the duo left the throne room with a single whisper between them.
Clarke slumped on the throne before sighing a deep sigh. She buried her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples twice before she heard two pairs of footsteps approaching. They eventually came to a standstill but didn't bother to say a word until Clarke lifted her head once again.
Anya's kind eyes stared back at her, an impish smile in place. She looked rather pleased; perhaps with herself or perhaps with the outcome of the day. "You did it, little cousin. You cleaned our slate and yours. Nobody even suspects us. A bunch of dimwitted things I'll say."
"Would you like to say it even louder so that the whole city can hear?" Clarks asks annoyed. Anya only swallowed a laugh, knowing that she had annoyed the Empress just a tad. "Now, our business together is over until further notice. If we are to continue my mother's cause then we'll have to wait until something grander or more scandalous happens and the people of Rome forget about all of this."
"I concur, your majesty," Roan says from beside Anya. Up until this day, he and Clarke had only spoken a handful of words to one another, but when they did speak, it was meaningful. The Empress only conducted contractual and informal things with Anya, and with nobody else. Anya had explained it once as the faintest bond of family that allowed it to happen so easily.
"What entertains the people more than the Colosseum games?" He asks. "If a new victor is crowned, one or two other than Josephine and Gabriel, the people will only speak of the new champion. They will no longer speak of their slaves going missing. It's the perfect distraction."
Anya blissfully stared at her counterpart. As much as she was the face of the Collegium, Roan had always been the man with the best ideas. His business ideas were flawless, his escape plans were incomparable and his ideas to draw people in were simply spectacular. How he hadn't weaseled himself into the courts or Senate house was beyond her.
"You make a good point."
"What better way is there to gain power over Rome too?" Valentina asks from the side entrance of the throne room. She had evidently been eavesdropping on the conversation, and she was hardly a woman that ever remained in the shadows completely. She liked to surprise people with her presence and knowledge that she shouldn't have given her societal role. "It would grandeur your position above the Emperor's, you know?"
Clarke glanced in Valentina's direction before returning her eyes to the front. Her line of sight got stuck on one of her guards on the far side of the room; the one clad in armour that looked like it was crafted only yesterday. It was bewildering to acknowledge just how well she looked after it. But it was even more chill worthy knowing that there was an identical piece of metal on a statuette in Octavia's villa.
A piece that would never be worn again. A piece that belonged to the champion of the Colosseum as far as the Empress was concerned. A champion that Clarke had no interest in replacing. In five years, Rome has only known two pairs of champions, only of which two individuals were new to them. And even now, the people still speak of them. To many Lexa and Octavia were still the champions, even though Josephine and Gabriel had won in 141 and 142.
The year 140 was a special year for anyone that had the privilege to witness the games. Not only was it the sixtieth anniversary of the grand theatre, but it was the year that new blood conquered it.
Clarke sighed again. Champions never lasted, and as much as they will be remembered and celebrated, time passes and it demands to be remembered by new events. The show had to go on. She had to go on.
"Very well. The Colosseum it is. I want new blood. Invite all gladiatorial schools to bring their best fighters, Valentina, and have it gazetted that no previous champions are allowed to participate this year. I'm bored with them. I want these games to be great ... greater than they've ever been before."
//
By the time the sun sets over the seven hills of Rome, the forum still filled with people as each minute passed. The time for the weekly executions was slowly approaching and as usual, the citizens of Rome couldn't wait to witness it.
Whether it was for the satisfaction of seeing a murderer punished for a crime, or whether it was just for the fact that the people enjoyed mayhem and death, they were all equally excited to get things underway.
Fairly close to the front of the mobs was a small makeshift gallery for a handful of Senators and magistrates to sit in order to witness the executions. Valentina stood next to the towering wooden bench with her new seemingly own personal guard, Lincoln.
In her mind, she felt quite unsettled with the idea of having one's own personal guard because it would mean that there truly was a potential threat to her life. Yet, simultaneously, a sense of gratitude accompanied the sense of unsettledness. As things were changing in Rome, and considering the role she was playing in it, it was fairly easy to end up with a target on her back.
She was very careful in the ways she gathered intelligence throughout the city, but it took only one person to ruin all of it. The worst part of it all was the fact that it could be any simple plebian that could start the chaos if he or she wished to. And the gods knew that Rome was absolutely filled to the brim with plebs.
"I have never quite understood why the people always flock to these events. There is no excitement in executions." Lincoln comments from beside Valentina as he looks over the growing crowd once again.
"It's simple, really." She comments with a slight lean. "If you've been alive for as long as I've been, you'd know that it isn't uncommon for things to seem flummoxing. Ever since I can remember, and many years before that, Rome was built upon savagery. Sometimes, it's all they know. And if these executions keep the plebs satisfied and content, then I say, continue the public spectacle. As senile as the commoners seem, they can do a lot of damage if they feel like it."
Lincoln nodded his head. It made sense. While the games in the Colosseum weren't going on then he supposes it was these executions that kept the citizens satiated. But beyond that, according to the scholars of the Empire, public executions tended to hinder others from committing the same crime. In the essence, it tended to save more lives than what it took.
Valentina boredly swayed on her feet, arms crossed over her chest as she gazed at the wooden platform where the hangings would take place. To the left of it were newly erected wooden stakes where the burnings would take place. She herself cared little for the executions of the day; she was merely there for one.
"She wrote to me."
"Hmm?" Lincoln hums, pointedly turning his attention to Valentine with raised eyebrows, just barely stumbling out of his own world. "Who wrote to you, Mistress?"
"Alexandria. She's still alive. However, she's become a mercenary again to pay off her debt to Leonardo. She's working for a man that is far worse than any of our previous Emperors. Emperor Nero included. Though, she mentions that her first two contracts have been fair all things considered and six remain."
Lincoln huffed a laugh, the side of his mouth ticking up into a smirk. "That's a jest, right? Every time we'd train and anyone asked if she'd return to the trade, she completely swore it off. It pays way more than the brotherhood does and a lot of us considered her foolish for not returning since it wasn't easy for a newcomer to gain way in the profession, and well, she had way in it. Those that mattered already knew her, all she had to do was say she was in the profession again and she'd be set for life."
"Now whose telling a joke? It's never been about money for her. It's been about honor. Being part of the brotherhood brought her honor. Besides, she wasn't particularly lacking in wealth. With the money her father left her, and the money from the Colosseum, she was set for life anyway. In my opinion, the Praetorian gave her what her soul thirsted for."
"Perhaps you're right to an extent, or perhaps the Praetorian just gave her an excuse to hang around the palace for more hours than necessary." Valentina bumped Lincoln's upper arm best she could with her shoulder, but against a man of his stature, he barely felt it. But then again, it got the non-verbal message across. "No that I judge her for it!" He continues quickly with a laugh, an index finger in the air. "All I'm saying is that she had the perfect way out of the Praetorian once Jake died. Not anyone expected her to stay."
"And you?" Valentina asks, changing the subject away from Lexa. "You too had a perfect way out of the Praetorian but stayed as well."
"What else would I do, Mistress? Work in the lands? Maybe get a wife and have a few children?" Lincoln guffawed unhumoursly, grasping for the red sash that hung on his shoulder, adding straightness to it that was barely noticeable. All he had ever known was to serve in the brotherhood. "That would be no life for me. I will serve the throne until the day I die."
"You and me both..." She whispers more to herself than to the towerous man beside her. "You and me both." She repeats this time to nobody at all.
Upon the wooden podium in front of them, the masked executioner walked upon it. His eyes were only looking in the direction he walked, not even bothering to look at the crowds he was surrounded by, all shouting malicious chants his way. His axe hung loosely in his hand, barely even making the effort to hold on to it.
It looked more like a prop than like a weapon that would end a couple of lives in the next few minutes.
A rather bulbous man stood in front of the podium, his height accentuated by a wooden crate he stood upon. Next to him stood a much scrawnier man, a personal slave of his most likely, tightly clutching the oak-cased wax tablets in his arms.
Valentina recognized the large man as the daily city announcer. When there was to be something announced to the people at any time of the day, the news would reach him first so that he could convey the message to others. Essentially, in his own way, he was a fairly dangerous man with all the knowledge he could potentially carry, and perhaps neglect to share if it suited him.
As if on cue, he waved his hands in the air once and the crowds quieted almost immediately. In the meantime, up on the podium, another two men carried a rock slab with the most perfect half moon cut out of it right in the center. With a bit of a struggle, they finally reached the space next to the axe executioner and dropped the stone with a heavy thud.
Quickly looking over his shoulder to see if all was in order, the city announcer turns back to the citizens. "The people of Rome!" He shouts. "By the blessing of Justicia, our goddess of justice, we are gathered here to honor her! The first on our agenda on this blessed afternoon is death by decapitation!"
The announcer turned then with a sway of his arm, seemingly presenting the so-called stage to all present. "For murder is punishable by death!"
Four armoured Romans hauled several men up the stairs like cattle, all of them tied together by their hands in feet. Three out of the group did their best to attempt to pull away from their imminent death as their eyes landed on the stone slab. It was still covered in dried blood from the previous week; no one had even bothered to wash it.
But unfortunately for them, the soldiers of Rome didn't exactly appreciate resistance. Just like everyone present, they believed in ferocious justice and there was just simply no way of escaping it. By the time the man at the far back yanks the rope backward again, he backs himself onto a cold iron blade that easily slides through him.
Valentina watched the spectacle boredly, having seen the same happen time and time again over the years. It was extremely rare for anyone to escape execution, and prolonging the act only made it worse. Whether you die by decapitation, or you die from a blade in your gut, die you will die.
By the time the soldiers cut free the once resistant man, the one at the very front was already forced to his knees with his head firmly placed in the half moon. He was among the few that didn't sob before their demise; among the few that accepted their fate.
His head dropped in split seconds into the basket beneath as the crowd thrusted their fists into the air, enthusiastic and satiated in their need for chaos.
Beside Valentina, Lincoln merely shook his head side to side. Even though Rome was built upon the concept of savagery and the incursion of power, this just simply couldn't last. It shouldn't have lasted as long as it had.
"Remind me again why we're here, Mistress."
"The High Priestess. The moment they're done with these damned souls, the hangings are next. Pray to the gods that she's first in line. I'd much rather occupy myself with something else than stand in this grueling afternoon sun listening to the vile sound these plebs make."
"And here I was always believing you loved the plebs." Lincoln jokes, swaying backward and forward in innocence. In front of them, they were already on the third criminal to lose his head.
"Please." She answers redundantly. Valentina had little care for the plebs, she only cared for the little power they had which collectively added up to something half useful in the end. All that truly mattered to her were her people; her family. "Actually, tell your men we don't have all day."
"Very well, Mistress." Lincoln placed his helmet atop his head again before pushing through the thin line of people that stood in front of them, still clamoring among themselves. Valentina watched as the Praetorian praefectus easily made his way to the podium, whispering something in the announcer's ear. The man only vigorously nodded his head before getting onto his own little crate again.
The announcer raised his hand in the air attempting to silence the now seemingly raging crowds, confused as to why the executions were coming to a complete standstill. Once the people barely come to stillness, he clears his throat uncomfortably, barely sparing a glance in Lincoln's direction. He had never received a request quite like the one the Praetorian had just brought to him.
"My fellow citizens of Rome," He begins. "The praefectus has declared that the hangings will take place immediately. So without further delay..." He pauses awkwardly with a slow nod. "Will you please proceed, carnifex."
Without much fuss, those set for hanging gradually filtred onto the platform, lining up beneath five nooses. Luna stood among them, third to be precise, her mane of hair wild and the expensive material of her once beautiful dress now covered in filth and torn to shreds that narrowly covered her body.
She looked begrudgingly calm, making it seem that what was about to take place next was merely just another day in life. That being hung was perfectly normal.
The rope creaked around the first woman's neck as her feet hardly lifted from the podium, beginning to suspend her mid-air. She began to visibly struggle against the noose around her throat and that's when Valentina realized that this was something she didn't have the stomach for after all.
For a woman that didn't do as much as squeal or cringe around tubs of blood and soldiers with severed limbs, unnecessary prolonged purposeful torture and suffering just wasn't something she could get herself to bear witness to.
By the time the first rope was secured and very thoroughly knotted, the second rope was already being yanked and pulled at. However, before the man reaches the very top, he's dropped to the very bottom, crawling around helplessly on his hands and knees.
With the loud wooden thunk, the sound alone brings Valentina back to reality which apparently muted itself. She returned her attention to the podium only to find the Empress in front of it barking orders at every soldier that met her eye.
By the time Valentina reaches Clarke's side, the only words she hears are something about the Appian Way. The next thing she sees is a large group of Praetorians hauling the remaining criminals through the city forum, heading straight toward the Appian.
Wordlessly staring and swallowing hard, Valentina's eyes settle on the Empress who stood idle, so filled with pure adrenaline that her hands shook. The decision she had made only minutes ago was one of haste, but she wanted to get her point across.
Her point being that she was not someone to ever rise up against, and certainly not someone to be wronged. And that was something the Empire should know now rather than later.
She was kind, empathetic, merciful even, a lover of those that loved her, but ruling the Empire was something she had to put on the forefront now, and ruling sometimes was brutal. It's what her father would've wanted, what her mother would've wanted, and of course, what Lexa would've wanted. They wouldn't want her hiding, wallowing in sadness, and certainly not being some submissive wench beneath an ocean of very powerful men.
"What are you doing? I thought we decided that you would remain in your quarters. It's not safe for you to be out here while Luna is alive and unpredictable." Valentina's fingers kindly wrapped around Clarke's wrist, her eyes filled to the brim with concern. "You have to be safe, my child."
Clarke tugged her arm away, clasping her hands behind her back as she tilts her head upward. "I appreciate your concern, Valentina. But I've come to realize that I will always have enemies; predictable or not predictable. I cannot simply cower away whenever they decide to show themselves. The people, and my enemies, have to know and see that I will be in control of not only my own life but theirs as well." Clarke momentarily shook her head, puckering her lips in finality. "I will just simply not sit around in fear and timidity."
"Fine." Valentina stepped away from the Empress, mirroring her movements. "If that is what you wish, then I fully support it. Though know, that I disagree with this. You're not ready."
The clopping of horse hooves approached rapidly before halting beside Clarke. Octavia unmounted the beast before handing its reins off to the Empress. "This is as ready as I will ever be. Was it not you that suggested I promote my grandeur above Bellamy's?"
With little effort from Octavia, Clarke hops upon Liberius, taking the muscular stallion's reins into her hand before wrapping it around her wrist twice. "This is only the beginning, Valentina. I suggest you begin to make your peace with it whether you believe I'm ready or not."
//
Mostly clothed half skeletons were being knocked with a long pole from the few remaining crosses that lined the Appian Way. It had been more months than Clarke could count since she personally last had someone subjected to this punishment.
The skeletons still harshly nailed to the crosses were none less than the Senators she had rid Rome of months ago when she had found out their pouches were a little too deep for anyone's good. She herself wasn't the most approving of bribery, but she could admit that occasionally it was the best choice to avoid violence.
However, these Senators just took too many briberies and the criminals that benefitted from their newfound freedom just continued to wreak unimaginable havoc throughout Rome up until they were just inevitably caught. Once caught again though, they'd just bribe a Senator and be well on their way just to have the wicked cycle repeat itself.
Twelve very young soldiers in training were hard at work digging up the foot of the crosses to later lay them down and have whoever nailed to the splintering wood.
The crowds that once littered the forum now slowly made their way down the Appian way, spreading themselves so thin that just about everyone could have a clear view of the now falling crosses.
Beyond them was the Empress, now accompanied by Octavia and Ontari, both clad in Praetorian armour. Ontari had taken the oath months ago, whereas Octavia had taken the oath just earlier that day. Unlike their Praetorian counterparts with red sashes, the two women clad themselves in the Gryphem color of azure blue.
Octavia found herself frequently sneaking a glance at the new brand burned into her hand. It was something she now shared with her sister; something rather monumental she would say. Truly, she had never desired to be part of the brotherhood, let alone did she expect them to accept her into it, but here she was, staring down at the simple letters of S.P.Q.R styled between two olive branches.
Directly beside Clarke, and behind her were at least another additional twenty Praetorians, all of them trained by none other than Lexa when she still had the role back in the day. They traveled with her to Egypt and fought beside her, and miraculously, returned with her too. They still held a certain loyalty to her memory, and beyond that, to their rightful Emperor Jake Gryphem.
It was simple to say that they would do absolutely anything for Clarke, their now rightful Empress. It had taken her some time to call upon them personally, but when she did, they had no doubt in their minds that they would follow her straight to Hades if they had to.
The Empress herself stood among them in silence, yet her mind was far from silent. Her decision to publicly crucify Luna may be considered hubris by some, but by others, it would be considered the best symbol of power to all that may doubt her authority.
However, on a more personal note, she wanted to maim the Priestess beyond recognition. If it weren't for her whisperings to Blake about the affair she and Lexa shared, then Lexa would've still been alive. If it weren't for her presence at the back of the throne room the day Lexa was captured then she wouldn't have been punished so harshly either.
The fact that she was so intimately involved in Blake's business only sweetened this crucifixion.
Overall, the Priestess was a nuisance and a nemesis. She had to die and be humiliated just as Lexa was. That was the simplicity of it.
Beyond the personal note, Luna and her criminal counterparts will do just fine to send out a much-needed gentle threat and reminder to anyone who would decide that they had the haughtiness or pomposity to think they could screw the Empress over.
Two Praetorians stood beside the first cross, the men easily identified as Quintus and Nero. Their helmets laid discarded on the side, both now covered in dust and with a few newly added knicks and scratches. Quintus dangled a leather pouch filled with nails in one hand, with a mallet in the other.
In the meantime, Nero secured the first criminal to the cross, wrapping the rope around the person's arm at least several times while other soldiers were hard at work to secure the rest of the criminals, including Luna. However, she was no longer as calm as she was while waiting for her turn to hang.
The blistering afternoon sun was just starting to dip behind Quirinal Hill, the lines of the horizon dancing above the trees. The sublime sight of it was calming to Clarke, a relief from her surroundings, but the moment she turned her attention back to what was happening, the first of many screeching screams filled her senses.
Quintus drove his mallet down at a rapid pace onto each nail that pierced through skin like it was a hot iron cutting through wax. Clarke expected herself to wince at the screams at least, yet she remained stoic, almost unable to portray emotion. She was completely unperturbed.
Eventually, a total of twenty-three crosses lined the Appian Way, all now with their own unique victims of barbarity. Murderers, thieves, adulterers, forgers, and treasonous bastards. All of them weren't in the least ready for what was to come, but that simple fact meant little to the Empress that sauntered toward them before turning before all who had gathered.
"My people, I understand that I have interrupted a sacred belief of yours with my own desires but I've come to believe that it's time I come before you again. I would first like to apologize for my shortcomings on the front of no longer having the time to see each of you in the throne room for deliberations. Do understand that I am truly sorry, but with that, I give you my word that the tradition will continue again soon."
The citizens clapped their hands without as much as yelling a chant of appreciation, allowing the Empress to continue without much interruption. Clarke nodded her head at the outlandish sign. She hadn't seen such self-restraint from the people since the early years of her father's reign.
"Furthermore, I bring you the promise of our annual games! I will personally host this year's games and I promise it will be the grandest of your lifetime!"
At this, the people don't restrain themselves. At this, they yell and cheer so loudly that it almost makes Clarke's ears ache. She could only imagine to herself how it had to sound within the crowds themselves.
"But without taking any more of your precious time, I would like to conclude this day with this gift to you." Clarke swayed her hand over the crosses where people struggled, and most importantly, suffered for what they had done. "Let this be an example to all who would dare to stand against me!"
"Let them burn."
After pouring a copious amount of oil at the base of each and every cross, the Praetorians lowered their torches. In a matter of seconds, the wooden bases were engulfed in fire and the flames began to tickle the feet of their imminent victims.
Luna was the center of attention to the Empress. Her screams of agony filled the voids of Clarke's soul as the flames danced in the blue of her irises. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that this was in fact what the Priestess deserved for all the lives she had destroyed with her corruption and self-greed.