Syrus

Syrus

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 37m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Sep 30, 2026
WpInfo
Fiction
Historical
Ancient Empires
LGBTQIA+
Gay
In the heart of Imperial Rome, where marble gleams brighter than mercy and every smile conceals calculation, the House of Severus appears the very image of order. Marcus Flavius Severus governs with reason rather than cruelty. His wife, Flavia Domitilla, commands society with wit and elegance. Castor keeps the household running with unwavering precision, while servants, clients, merchants, and nobles each play their appointed part beneath the watchful gaze of the Empire. Into this carefully ordered world comes Syrus, an unusually educated young slave whose quiet intelligence soon draws the attention of every member of the household. As political intrigues gather beyond the walls, private desires awaken within them. Friendships sharpen into quiet jealousy. Ambition wrestles with conscience. Love becomes inseparable from duty. And each soul must choose what is worth sacrificing in a world where freedom, honour, and affection are never freely given. //NEW CHAPTER EVERY WEDNESDAY//
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#42
quiet
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I was in love with a man I knew nothing about. Until I was wedded to the one I was destined for. I thought it would be easy to forget him and move on with my life. I was ready to give it a chance. He had broken my heart, after all. But things don't always go the way you want, do they? Everything changed when I stepped into this marriage and realized it needed me more than I needed it. I had a huge family. A whole line of brothers-in-law and a grumpy sister-in-law, who was also once my best friend. I did as I was told. I didn't even give it a thought, how drastically my life was about to change because of this decision. Love doesn't always bloom roses in your garden. Sometimes, it leaves behind dead trees that never bloom, no matter how many springs come and go. I was that tree. My husband was everything a woman could ask for. I don't know if he hated me or not... but I was certain I couldn't give him the true love he deserved. Every time I think of it, I realize I am just a withered Princess. No matter how many roses my husband blooms for me, I will always be crushed beneath the weight of my past and mistakes. As always, I found myself standing by the window, feeling the cold air kiss my cheeks while my husband slept on the bed behind me. I rubbed my arms to warm myself. The moon was pretty.

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