⟢ Lavinia is lucky.
Lucky to serve Vesta, lucky to escape marriage to a foul old man she does not love, lucky to be free of the constant scheming of the capital, lucky to be surrounded by a sacred sisterhood.
At least that's what she tells herself...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lavinia followed the strange girl back down the Palatine Hill with the uncertainty that seemed to color every decision in her new life. The girl was clearly a Vestal, judging by her white veil, though she wasn't sure if the girl was Clodia or Julia, and the girl's hurried pace left little room for idle chatter. Lavinia shivered and clutched the garments closer to her chest as they reached the bottom of the hill and came face to face with three imposing soldiers.
Even the night before, when the carriage driver had been driven by a man in practical armor, Lavinia had never seen men so armed before. The sharp ridges of their armor glistened in the dawn light, each clutched a huge spear with a wicked point in their heavily muscled hand, and their faces were shadowed by broad helmets, creating a monstrous and unfeeling visage. Their huge shields were emblazoned with scorpions, each tail tipped with real, razor-sharp iron. Lavinia realized with a start that they must be members of none other than the Praetorian Guard, the emperor's personal bodyguards. No one else would be authorized to carry such symbols.
"Lavinia Vestalis?" One spoke, stepping forward form the trio. Lavinia nodded, as the girl behind her scurried off, vanishing almost instantly behind one of the temples. She expected to start walking, waiting for her to follow, but instead the guard lowered his head deferentially. "The emperor humbly requests your presence for an audience." Lavinia blinked, perplexed. Asking her? Her fingers worried at the smooth fabric of the garment in her hands. She knew the Vestals were respected. But enough that the emperor, a god on earth himself, would pay her opinion any mind? It was baffling.
"I...yes. Alright," she stammered, trying to draw on Cornelia's cold aloofness, or Festinia's warm, self-assured confidence. She imagined that she failed, but the guards nodded in acknowledgement and set off towards the Atrium. They kept her pace, ushering her into one of the side chambers that she had not immediately noticed, one that she supposed was not technically part of the Atrium.
"Emperor Titus is just inside," the guard continued, motioning towards the door, but making no move to follow her.
As Lavinia entered the room, she was immediately assaulted by the scent of honeyed fruit and spiced meats. Her stomach clenched painfully and she realized she had not eaten since the previous night. She had been so overwhelmed that she hadn't even noticed how utterly famished she was.
The low table in front of her was set with a lavish spread of flatbreads, jewel toned fruits, exotic looking cheeses, and sausage. Emperor Titus himself lounged on a dining couch at the head of the table, sipping from a pewter goblet. Lavinia stood there for a moment, while Titus finished his swallow, motioning with his hand. "Please, sit. Eat," he said, smiling up at her. He looked older in the morning, Lavinia realized, not nearly as old as her father or Publius, but the darkness under his eyes was certainly more pronounced. Heedless of what she did, Titus was already reaching for another chunk of bread, and placing it ungracefully in his mouth. Lavinia reached for a chunk of hard cheese that seemed vaguely familiar and nibbled on it thoughtfully.
