My Boyfriend is a Dead Roman Hero | Jason Grace

Nine Days

Medea murdered her children, and she blames Aphrodite.

Her heels click against the tiles as she strides through the entrance to the hotel ballroom selected for this meeting. She is irritated. Impatient. She despises going to these, but the emperor was busy (as if she herself has not been holed up in her potion room for days) and insisted she act as his emissary. An inconvenience, but she supposes if there were ever a conference she might be interested in attending, it would be today's.

Emperor Nero has already arrived. He is lounged on one of the three purple sofas arranged to face one another in the center of the ballroom. A golden rug bearing the symbol of the Triumvirate lay beneath a parlor table laden with wine and hors d'oeuvres. A large woman stands close behind him, hands on the pommels of her twin blades as she watches Medea approach with narrow eyes.

Adorable. As if those silly little blades could ever pose a threat to a sorcerous.

"Your majesty," Medea greets coolly, nodding to the stout man and taking her own place on the couch set out for her employer. She crosses her ankles and looks down her nose at Nero. "How long it has been."

"Lady Medea," He nods. Nero eyes her appreciatively from head to toe, making her clench her teeth in irritation. "You are looking...alive."

"Quite," She snips.

No thanks to the gods.

"Tell me," Nero begins, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Do you know why our colleague has called this surprise meeting?"

Medea raises an eyebrow. "I do not."

"Really?"

"I was ordered to attend, so here I am. I do not question Caligula's wishes."

He smiles meanly at her. "What a good little witch you are, minding your master so dutifully."

Indignation flares in Medea's chest, but, before she can hiss a scathing response back, the doors swing open once again, and their final attendee marches into the ballroom.

Medea much prefers Commodus to Nero, but both are rather insufferable. The youngest of the emperors is once again dressed in little more than a tight fitting pair of spandex. His chest is exposed and his beard oiled.

That isn't what Medea's gaze finds first, though. What she sees pulls her eyebrows to the chandelier, and she pulls in a surprised gasp.

Burns scar the upper half of his face. Like the kind one might get from spending far too much time in the sun. And, when he opens his eyelids...

The man's eyes have melted from their sockets.

Commodus comes to stand before them, hands balanced on the shoulders of two of his disgusting little headless guards. He curls a lip and sighs.

"My colleagues," He nods.

"What in Rome's name happened to you?" Nero chokes, looking ready to start waving his handkerchief at Commodus in disgust.

The younger man scoffs in offense and pulls a pair of sunglasses from...Medea would rather not consider where he was keeping those, actually. He hides his empty eye sockets behind the Versace frames and sprawls out onto his couch.

"Apollo happened," He huffs.

Medea leans forward. "Apollo did this? I was under the impression he is currently mortal."

"As was I..." Nero mutters.

Commodus makes a disgusted sound and crosses his arms like a child. "Well, obviously he still holds some divinity!"