Chapter Text
Livia
Destiny has always seemed like an inexorable force to me, a breath from the gods that pushes us forward, whether we wish it or not. From a young age, I was taught to understand my place: the only daughter of Geta, the emperor who ruled Rome with wisdom and balance. My father was a man of justice, admired by his people, the leaders under his command, and by me. My mother died when I was younger, and my father never wished to marry again. I know they did not love each other; my father has confided this to me, but he chose to remain alone.
There were rumours around Rome, about my father's relationships, and I was not naive about them, but I placed them on the shelf where they belonged: words without solid proof.
The only descendant of Geta, the emperor.
The promise he made to the gods and the Roman people.
So many tales and sayings made in my name...
Since I was a child, I learned to view my life as if it were a reflection of the walls that protect our city: solid, imposing, but built to serve a greater purpose than myself. And yet, it is strange how others see me. They say I am the most beautiful woman in the empire. It is a whisper that follows me through the palace corridors and in the squares I dare to cross when my father permits it. A fine ornament for the glory of Rome, some say; a living goddess, others. But when I look in the mirror, I see only a woman shaped by duty, by the blood of a lineage that has never given me a choice but to bear the expectations of an empire on my shoulders.
Not that I resent it. On the contrary, I accept the weight I carry with the same serenity my father shows in the face of the Senate and the people's demands. He has always said that I am his greatest strength, not for my feminine virtues or for my future role as a wife and mother, but because I am his confidante, his safe haven. It is to me that he turns in the nights when the empire's problems steal his sleep. My father trusts me as he trusts his own strength, and that is something I would never take for granted.
Our friendship, if I can call it that, is peculiar in the Roman world. An emperor should not turn to his daughter so much, but to him, I am more than a political piece— I am a heart close by, someone who understands him beyond the purple toga and military victories. We are family in its truest sense, and I feel fortunate for it. He shares his plans, his fears, even the dilemmas that consume him. I know that my presence offers him a comfort that no advisers or generals could provide.
Now, however, I feel that our bond faces a silent test. My father has asked me to consider marriage. Not just any union, but one that will reinforce his peace and ensure Rome's stability. He wants me to marry Marcus Acacius, his most trusted general and perhaps the most admired man in all of Rome. It is not an order, but a wish that he cannot ignore, and neither can I. I look to the future he is laying out for me with clear and steady eyes, as he taught me. But within me, something restless begins to whisper.
Who is Livia Geta Augusta, beyond all of this?
Beyond the daughter, the confidante, the symbol?
If there is an answer to this question, only the gods know. For now, I am simply a woman who carries the fate of Rome in her blood and who, perhaps for the first time, must understand what it means to be herself.
"Is it true? General Acacius returns to Rome?" Polí asked, pulling me from my reverie.
I turned to her, my trusted maid, who was carefully combing my hair as the rising sun streamed into my chamber. She knew how to use silence to pry answers, and the curious glint in her eyes betrayed that she would not settle for any evasions.
"Yes," I replied, bringing the lavender branch to my nose again. "He returns today. My father summoned him to discuss... matters of the empire."
"Matters of the empire?" She laughed softly, her laughter slightly sarcastic but still respectful.
I knew Polí was aware of my situation. Most likely because her lover, one of my father’s senators, confided many things to her. And I, as a princess of Rome, had my entire fate discussed and sealed in the Senate. That part I resented.
My free hand tightened in my lap as I took a deep breath, staring into the mirror before me, where my reflection met hers. Polí was astute, and her tongue was always freer than it should have been. But she was loyal, and because of that, I allowed her to cross boundaries no one else would dare.
"There is nothing decided. My father only mentioned the possibility..." I said more to myself than to her.
Even though I was always aware that my destiny would be to marry someone of influence, the situation frightened me.
"Possibility?" She interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Come now, Livia, don’t pretend with me. You always knew that a marriage would be suggested sooner or later. Marcus is one of the most influential men in Rome. Your father needs his support by his side."
I felt my face flush, and I looked away. It was the truth, a truth I had buried so deeply that admitting it to myself was painful. I wanted to forever be Livia, Geta's daughter. It seems foolish, but this is the life I know, and I am happy within it. Here, I can be whoever I want and do what I want. My father lets me study, gives me freedoms I could never imagine having in a marriage. I admired Marcus, but I did not know who he truly was.
Since the first time I saw Marcus Acacius, back when he was just a young officer in my father’s campaigns, something within me changed. He was different from the other men: confident without arrogance, firm but just. His presence commanded any room, and yet his eyes had a softness reserved for few.
But would this apply to me?
What would he be like as a husband?
"And you like him."
"It was nothing more than childish admiration, Polí."
"Admiration?" She leaned in, her fingers still working delicately through my hair. "Admiration doesn’t make a twelve-year-old girl blush like you blushed. Admiration doesn’t make a woman avoid mentioning a name for fear of revealing too much."
I stared at her through the mirror, unable to find words to refute what she said. Polí was a discreet observer, but an attentive one, and she knew each nuance of my feelings better than I would have liked.
"Does your father know about this?"
"My father knows me better than anyone," I whispered. It was foolish to deny it.
"Then he loves you more than anything. He’ll marry you to the man you hold admiration for. That’s good, isn’t it?"
"I’ve also been fortunate in choosing where to direct my admiration," I replied, and we both laughed together.
"He was a nobody when you first saw him, helping you off your carriage," she remarked, and we both laughed even more at the old memory. "You turned as red as the root of your hair."
"Marcus Acacius is a man with duties greater than himself. Just as I am a woman with responsibilities that go beyond my desires. These are different times. Besides, he is so much older. He must think me a fool."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm the storm beginning to form within me. It was pointless to lie to Polí, but admitting what she said made me feel a vulnerability I didn’t know how to handle.
"If my father decides that this marriage is best for Rome, I will accept it. Just as I have always accepted whatever he has asked of me," I said firmly.
"And if, by some twist of the gods, the general desires you as much as you’ve already desired him?"
The question hung in the air, full of possibilities and fears I dared not explore. I looked at Polí, but she did not expect an answer. She just smiled faintly and returned to her work, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Rome’s fate was, as always, before me. But this time, the fate of my heart seemed intertwined with it in a way that not even all the gods together could unravel.