Aftermath

Look Down

"Look down and show some mercy if you can." Emperor Commodus read the letter as his eyes burned with disdain. "How dare these senile orators ask for mercy!"

It had been almost one week since the gory death of Senator Gracchus, the late Consul of the Senate. He was to share power with Lady Lucilla when Rome became a republic. But with the arrival of Commodus, their republic would revert back to an empire.

"Look down and see the servants of Rome begging before you, Look down and watch the people in the streets clamoring for their Senate..." His upper lip twitched and his breaths grew ragged. Shoving the letter onto his desk, Commodus paced his study with agony.

"I've executed their leader...but now the people honor him! The Senate honors him...so I can't just disband them or it makes me even more dishonorable. I thought the nightmares would be over with the death of that Spaniard, but it seems they've merely changed their form..." The emperor closed his eyes tightly and leaned against a pillar.

Just how many times would he have to face this situation? It felt as if he were watching the same story come to life again and again. If all the world were a stage, he would be a puppet placed in the hands of a cruel, cruel, puppeteer desperate to watch him go mad. As a child, it was Lucilla and Maximus who took his father's love away from him. And when he grew, it was ultimately Maximus who reclaimed the Romans' love. Now, it was that old Senator Gracchus who jeered him relentlessly who now gained that sympathy he so craved.

Gracchus was being honored as the man who united the Senate with his blood. The orators gathered to pen an articulate letter pleading for the mercy of the Emperor. And for what? It wasn't as if Commodus had publicly told them about his plan to disband them. Their only motive for writing this piece of silver-tongued treason and nailing it in the public square was to publicly shame Commodus. They needed to desperately hold onto their power now that their leader was gone and their future was uncertain.

Had the he decided against going for a chariot ride through the city with his nephew, his eye would've never caught that letter. The entire crowd of plebeians watched their emperor with baited breath as he marched up to the pole and carefully took the parchment that hung there.

It was then that he felt that there was no one in Rome worthy of his trust - they all wanted him dead, or worse, insane. The entire empire was watching him as they would watch a limping gladiator, hoping that he would fail and drop his sword. He gritted his teeth at the mere thought of being booed at. Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus was not born to drop his sword. No, he was born to claim it and conquer with it. If the people wanted to honor their Senator, let them do so in peace. While they chattered, he would do some scheming of his own.

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The palace was a lonely place for Prince Lucius. With the exception of his tutors and his slaves, he barely saw anyone else especially after that chariot ride with his uncle. Much like his mother, he hadn't had the chance to properly mourn the Spaniard for fear of sharing his mother's fate. Not that he had no trust in his doting uncle - Lucius always loved him. His uncle was almost perfect in his own eyes. It was his mother who told him that the emperor contained the madness of Caligula with the weakness of Tiberius. That Rome could only be saved by the gladiator who dared to defy Caesar himself.

Perhaps if he hadn't spoken so carelessly that night, his mother would still be with him. He should've held his tongue, like a prince ought to have. The family would be together, as it should be. The thought of him being the reason for his family's dissolution brought him to tears, leaving him in a fit of sobs every night.

And as for his uncle, Commodus would visit his nephew's bed and be pleased to find the boy sound asleep. Unbeknownst to him, it was the mourning that would lull Lucius to sleep after existential contemplation no eight-year-old must endure.

Was his uncle truly insane as his mother thought? If he weren't, he certainly wouldn't have chosen to fight a gladiator, whom he himself called 'a slave who fights only for the games'. And certainly someone would've vouched for him to be honored as he lay motionless in the sands of the arena. But someone did - and what did his uncle do in return? Banish her father and keep her as his prisoner. Her father was a traitor though, and it was obvious that he had to be punished.

Prince Lucius decided to visit his father's newest prisoner for himself - it wouldn't harm anyone, would it? Commanding the guard to take him to her, Lucius climbed up the flights of stairs to the tiniest of bedrooms. His uncle was perhaps quite merciful, deciding to keep her in the palace instead of in the dungeons like many other prisoners.

When he'd reached the entrance, he tried to open the wooden double-doors but was stopped by a guard. Significantly smaller than most of the other Praetorians, it could be understood why he was chosen to patrol a girl. "I don't wish to take her anywhere, just to speak with her," Lucius tried to reason with the guard. When the guard complied, the door swung open to reveal the young woman his uncle called the "Pink Fairy."

"Lady Caesonia?" Lucius signaled for her to come closer. Her room looked uncomfortable - the only light came from a tiny window and the only contents were a cot and a blanket. No longer wearing the pink stola that she had on during her father's trial, she was stripped of her minimal jewelry and left only in a coarse toga tied with a rope around her waist. Caesonia dutifully advanced towards the prince and curtsied before him.

"Is it true that you saved my uncle in the arena?", he sat cross-legged outside of the threshold into her tiny room.

"Highness...I only did what I thought felt right," Caesonia mirrored his gesture and sat down as well.

"Did you like him? Or hope for a reward?" Lucius watched her shake her head demurely at his question.

"Do you think you'll see your father again?" He asked.

Caesonia straightened herself and took a breath before answering him. "Someday, Highness...not yet, but someday I believe I will."

"I wonder everyday if I will ever see my mother again," the prince leaned closer and lowered his voice. "My uncle doesn't like to talk about her. He is still angry with her."

"I don't think he is angry, Highness." Caesonia felt something trustworthy about conversing with the young prince - he was young and innocent, and his whole life was ahead of him. "You have lost a mother, but your uncle lost a sister too. He didn't like doing it, but I am sure that Caesar had his reasons for doing it. I think he misses her too, just like you."

"You believe in him?"

Caesonia nodded. "I do, your Highness."

"I like you, Lady Caesonia. I shall hope to come and visit you again."

"I am honored to recieve such kindness from you, Highness," she smiled for the first time since coming to the palace.

Politely asking her to call him by name, the prince rose from the floor and departed for his chambers.