Liv

Whilst her slave attended to her orders, Livia set about penning a quick letter on a small piece of parchment, looking up at regular intervals to make sure nobody creeped up on her. She had just remembered that it was the right day of the week for the honey merchant to pass by on his way to Rome and while she had no need for his wares, the old man had on previous occasions agreed to discreetly carry messages to Rome in exchange for payment and would certainly accept it again, especially if Livia allowed his poor beasts to drink from the stream. As if on cue, Aglaea returned mere seconds after Livia had shoved the parchment into one of her stola's many folds and creases. She gave her body slave a nod. "I'm ready. Let's go before it gets too hot." Outside, the sun shone in the clear blue sky, not even a single cloud to keep it company. Livia's favourite spot wasn't far from the villa, not more than a leisurely ten-minute walk, but it was usually secluded enough that she and whoever was with her could speak freely. As they walked further away, passing by a handful of slaves already toiling in the sun, Livia turned round with a hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun's glare and gave Aglaea a crooked, conspiratorial smile. "He was so loud last night, wasn't he? I barely slept a wink, kept thinking he was going to barge in and drag me out of bed just to listen to his ramblings," she complained, rolling her eyes. As far as her husband was concerned, it had actually been one of his less violent episodes in recent times, and Livia regretted he wasn't more fond of drink. "How do you turn a man into a drunkard? Do you think I should make a sacrifice to Bacchus?" @Echo

April, 75 AD Over the last two years Livia had become remarkably good at finding opportunities for slipping away and savouring the short moments of freedom she could find. That morning, one such opportunity presented itself, when Secundus had finally gone to bed in the wee hours of the morning after spending most of the night going on drunken tirades. If previous times were anything to go by, he wouldn't rise before noon, which gave Livia a few hours of blessedly alone free time. She sneaked out of her room and almost immediately came across Aglaea, as she expected to be the case. "There you are!" Livia exclaimed with unusual yet somewhat contained excitement. "Have the kitchen slaves prepare us a hamper, we're eating outside today. I want to go for a swim." Her swimming spot was nothing more than a stream that ran through the property and had the unfortunate tendency of drying in particularly hot summer weeks, but it almost felt like a world away. Secundus didn't approve of her doing so: the slaves or a traveller passing by could get an eyeful, and decent Roman matrons didn't do such things. But she wasn't a decent Roman matron any more than he was a decent Roman man, so that made them even in her mind. "Oh, and bring a change of clothes for us both." Even if Aglaea ended up not joining her in the water, Livia could use them to dry off. @Echo

Livia let out a shaky breath she didn't realise she had been holding when her brother-in-law appeared, and by Fortuna's grace not seemingly too bothered by her spontaneous dropping by - or just polite enough not to let it show; she was not able to tell. Unlike his brother, Tertius did not seem the type to be governed by his emotions at practically all times, and also unlike his brother, he had always been perfectly cordial to Livia when they happened to meet. And with that in mind, she thought it best not to test his patience, and reveal the reason for her visit fairly soon. Aglaea's supportive nod had also had its emboldening effect, however small it was. "It is good to see you well, Tertius," Livia replied with a bow of her head and just a hint of a smile. "My apologies for intruding on you, and my thanks for welcoming me just the same." Behind him, she spotted a young man approaching them. How providential that Teutus was home, and not out and about taking advantage of his new freedom - that way, he could be the focus of the whole visit. She greeted him too. "Teutus, good afternoon. How good to see you too." It had not been unreasonably long since she had last seen him, but Livia reckoned there was a different air to him now: his posture seemed to her less rigid, his expression somehow more relaxed. "I regret that we were not able to be present for the celebrations at the time..." She managed to impart some contrition to her tone, though in all honesty it wouldn't have made a difference. Saturnalia, by its very nature, infuriated Secundus like few other festivals did, and when he was in such a state he couldn't be considered polite company by anyone, or even passable company. "...But I thought the occasion deserved more than a written salute. So I came to offer mine and your uncle's congratulations on your new role, Teutus." And name and status and rank, all rolled into one, but 'role' had sounded appropriate and inoffensive enough when she had prepared her lines in her head on the way to the domus. It wouldn't do to forget her host. She flicked her eyes at Tertius. "And congratulations to your father on his excellent son." She had brought a small gift too, currently resting in a money pouch she had given Aglaea to carry before they had left home, but a childish part of Livia hoped she would be invited to sit down for an hour or so - it would be nice to catch up, scout for suspicions about her and Marcus, and have an excuse not to go back right away. @Atrice @Echo @Sharpie

Early February, 75 AD It had her taken several weeks to form the idea and find the courage to present it to her husband, who was invariably and very demosntratively displeased that Livia would entertain such thoughts. It had taken a few more weeks to warm him up to the perceived benefits of a social visit: did Secundus not want to know what his brother was up to, if only to protect his own interests? Did he not want to know what that slave son was like, again for his own sake? At last he relented, but made Livia swear she would be back before nightfall, and sent her with one of his trusted slaves as a not-at-all-undercover spy; although Aglaea would be going too, Secundus knew the body slave was far too loyal to Livia to be persuaded into reporting to him. She knew it had been in poor form, but Livia had not dared to send a message beforehand to let Tertius know she would be dropping by - he could have refused by claiming to be too busy, and she did not want her little outing - one of increasingly fewer - to be compromised by a polite denial. So it was that they reached the Esquiline unheralded. A slave rushed off to announce their arrival and as the party of three waited for her brother-in-law to come and greet them, Livia took in her surroundings. The domus was big and airy, and gave off an impression of lively bustle even though everything was impeccably maintained. It felt like the opposite of her own house, which she found gloomy and austere despite being just as pristine in furnishings - any ruined or destroyed objects were quickly replaced with new, whole ones. Livia looked to her body slave for encouragement, who provided it with a small nod. This was out of line and she knew it, but she hoped Tertius would forgive her and let her into his house. Her desire to meet with him and his new heir - Teutus, she recalled - was genuine, and she wanted to be optimistic that they would see it. @Atrice @Sharpie @Echo

She had never really heard the full story of what had transpired between Horatia's marriage in Greece and all the troubles that followed, so she stayed respectfully and curiously silent as her sister told her what had transpired. Livia had heard bits and pieces, but at the same time had never been too interested in having the blanks filled or figuring out how it all fit in with her own harrowing experience. Hearing Horatia talk about it so naturally, almost nonchalantly in spite of the sudden colour to her cheeks, and the awareness that there was much that went unspoken in between words, filled Livia with newfound humility. It could not have been easy at first, not when Horatia had not even had the chance to meet her in-laws prior to marrying Aulus, but Horatia had taken it in her stride, as she seemed to do with all things, like the perfect matron she was. For a split second, Livia was glad that Gnaeus' parents had not met her sister yet; she wasn't sure she would be able to live up to their expectations anymore afterwards. "Thank you... for telling me." She grinned at Horatia, all previous slights momentarily forgotten. "They may be good people, but they're lucky to have you." Livia too could offer consolation, when she was in the mood - which came and went faster than the wind changed direction. "But he writes to you, I hope? And sends presents for the children?" It was more or less what Livia remembered from her own childhood, during the times their father was away in camp. She had never found it hard to reconcile his presence and absences with their family dynamics, but for Titus and Calpurnia it was different; Marcus Horatius Justinus had never been away for four or five years at a time. If. An if that Livia was fairly certain would not be the case. Any man who wanted to be someone was bound to leave the capital sooner or later, looking to fashion his own glory somehow. She braced herself for it already, so that she would be prepared when the time came. And if Gnaeus had to go and leave her behind, she hoped he would at least leave her with a child to make heavy days lighter. Livia merely smiled with resignation at Horatia and shrugged, showing she didn't think it would turn out the way her sister was suggesting. The litter bearers slowed their pace and the sounds of the market grew closer as vendors cried their wares' strong points and buyers struggled to make themselves heard above the cacophony. It was chaotic as always, but that was precisely what made it so exciting. Livia's eyes lit up and she took Horatia's hands in hers, shaking them up and down animatedly. "We're here!" @Sara

Livia furrowed her brow in displeasure as Horatia's giggling reached her ears. What was so funny about her question? She was worried! Worried not only that she may not get the wedding of her dreams, but that everybody else think her a silly woman precisely because of that - that she would be dreaming about pure silk dresses whilst the pantry grew emptier each day. And then Horatia, who was as regal as all those statues of the divine Livia Augusta, had the gall to grin and laugh! She crossed her arms and glared at her sister, unconvinced by Horatia's words. "I thought he might have, since it doesn't concern you directly," Livia argued, fully aware of how childish it was to bicker with Horatia like this but feeling vindicated in her right to do so. "And it's not like I'd wear them only once, I'd have them adjusted to something more common!" She was perfectly aware it was important to show some frugality, even if it was all just to fit into the mould, and she didn't want to embarrass Gnaeus or his parents, who, for all of their old and respectable pedigree, simply weren't quite as wealthy as Marcus Horatius Justinus. Sulking like her niece would, Livia let a minute pass by before deeming to reply to Horatia, pointedly making a show of pretending to look outside of the lectica. When she finally answered, it was in a cool, somewhat distant tone. "They appear nice enough. His father seems to be the quiet type, his mother - well, stepmother, actually, but she raised him - is more energetic. Gnaeus says they all get along well." The two brief times she had met them, Livia hadn't sensed any bad blood or thinly-veiled resentment from any of them, although she had wondered if her future mother-in-law was eager to please or if the woman was just in high spirits all the time. The last question didn't have as clear-cut an answer as she would have liked. "I'm not sure yet," Livia admitted, toning down her petulance as she fixed her eyes on Horatia's composed face. "I'll be the intruder, won't I? And as nice as they may be, I'm sure there's things we'll do differently, and they might think badly of me for that." It was not so much starting your own family as it was joining an existent one and finding your role and place in it. She leant forward with an apologetic look. "Was it hard for you, going to live with yours?" @Sara

Winter, 65 AD The scream died in his throat, disappearing into nothingness. His heart was furiously beating out of his chest and the wet chill that covered his body had also soaked the bedsheets; they were almost as wet as if they’d been just washed. Titus sat up bolt upright in bed, shaky hands still balled into fists bunching up the sheets. He gasped for air, but it wouldn’t come. He did it again, and this time a bit of precious oxygen made its way down to his lungs. His heart had yet to slow down a beat; he could feel it pulsing everywhere, in his good ear too, mixed with some faint ringing. It felt like he was dying. Again. No, he really was dying this time. Again. And again. And again. Every time he drifted off to sleep. He tried a deep breath, but it hurt too much. Up until that moment he had failed to notice the intense, tearing pain in his abdomen and the sticky, metallic wetness that accompanied it as the need for air had outweighed everything else, but now it was impossible to ignore. His fingers twitched, loosening their grip on the fabric and Titus bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood. His whole body shook: cold, pain, fright, any and all of those were to blame. He felt like screaming, wanted to, but wouldn’t. It was bad enough that he found himself in this sorry state, he didn’t need to make the others just as miserable by waking them up too. How many times was his now? And how many times more would this scene play on and on – in his mind’s eye, in the world of the living, in the realm of Somnus? How many more times would he have to relive the same episode, see the same giant Briton with murder in his eyes and a sword in his left hand, and his helmet flying off into the distance and the Briton’s sword making the blood flow freely down his ear and cheek and neck and the blue-dyed man would have sliced his head off if Titus hadn’t managed to dodge at the last possible second, and then there was pain and blood and more pain and silence and darkness and nothing and he would wake up from his vision a shaking mess. He had never thought himself invincible, not consciously, but he had never envisioned being made so keenly and painfully aware of his mortality. And he hated, hated, hated that he knew fear and failure now. In his dreams he would die a thousand times and while awake he would turn it over in his head a thousand and one and ask himself what he could have done differently. Rinse and repeat, like the damned wound below his ribs that would bleed and ooze ghastly pus and bleed and ooze some more and just not fucking heal no matter how often it was cleaned or stitched. Short, shallow breaths allowed him to take in much needed air, but did very little in the way of calming him down. Sleep would not claim him again that night: he was too tired, too in pain, his nerves too fraught. Going by the complete darkness that shrouded the room, it would be quite some time before Aurora rose and took to the skies. In the morning, when he came round for his customary visit, the Greek doctor would bristle at his recent handiwork having been quite literally torn apart – again. And the doctor would fuss, Valeria would fuss, the slaves would fuss, visitors in the form of siblings and in-laws would fuss, and little Sulpicia would fuss too because everyone else was fussing. It felt to Titus that he had entered some Sisyphean alternate reality, where he only got so far before being forced to start from the beginning once more in a loop with no end in sight. In the end, all he could do was to gingerly and carefully lower himself back into the mattress and stare unblinkingly at the ceiling in the dark, waiting for time to pass and for the gruelling ache to let up. Titus made a mental note to ask good old Laurus to leave an amphora of strong wine and a cup by the bed next time. Somnus was cruel, but Bacchus should be more merciful if he drank himself into anaesthesia or dreamless unconsciousness.

So Horatia did know a lot more than she let on, according to Livia's suspicions. Whether she found it too embarrassing to discuss the topic or wanted to curate the information Livia received was anybody's guess, but her older sister being the way she was, it was far more likely to be the first option. All the reading between the lines Horatia was forcing her to do was starting to give her a headache. "So it's bad at first, might even hurt," she listed off, counting off the fingers in her free hand, "but gets better eventually, and especially if you like them. But for men it's never bad. Hm," Livia snorted in amusement. "It almost sounds like some kind of odd sport." Her sister's mention of love hearts sent Livia into a fit of genuine, belly-deep guffawing. "Or one of Cupid's arrows sticking out from between his ribs," she joked between breathless laughs. She rubbed her aching stomach, shoulders still shaking, and nodded appreciatively at Horatia. "I'm glad he didn't," she said with sincerity, implicitly acknowledging that Gnaeus was not exactly who their father had had in mind for his youngest daughter's husband. The seemingly harmless comment that followed raised slight alarm in Livia, and her expression gradually grew more solemn. She went over it in silence and reviewed the whole outing in her mind's eye, wondering if it was just a series of coincidences or if there truly was something to it. She was about to open her mouth to speak when the litter was jolted again, this time with more force, and a second later she tasted metal. With the sudden movement of the litter her teeth had cut into her lower lip, and Livia grimaced at the sensation of blood blooming from it. Before it had a chance to stop on its own, she wiped it away with the back of her hand, which was in turned wiped off on a bit of curtain fabric. As soon as the litter resumed its usual pace, shot back the question that had been plaguing her for the last few minutes. "Are we... are we hard up?" She was the picture of seriousness now, green eyes focusing intently on Horatia. "You know pater would never tell me, and definitely not with what's happening. But you've mentioned money a few times today." Livia narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to see something very far away. "Do you know something I don't?" @Sara

Poor Horatia was like Penelope, always waiting for her husband to return and unwavering in her faith that he would. Livia hoped Aulus had the decency of coming back before twenty years had passed. "Well, hope it's sooner rather than later," she sighed - for Horatia and the kids' sake, of course. The man had no direct influence in Livia's life and she doubted she would recognise him if he were to pass them by in the streets, but being married couldn't be fun when the husband was away for so long. If Gnaeus also had to travel, then Livia wanted to go with him! It was much more embarrassing to be getting that sort of advice from Horatia than she had accounted for, and her red-hot flaming cheeks were proof of that. Still, curiosity won over shame for a few moments, and though she raised a hand to hide part of her face behind it, Livia kept her ears open. "It can't be that bad, right? Otherwise there wouldn't be prostitutes or brothels..." Her words came out muffled thanks to the hand blocking them. "But does it hurt more if you don't like them?" Now Livia was slightly confused, and it showed in her tone. She didn't see how attraction played any role in the whole process, but maybe that was a secret only matrons had access to. She hoped she would find out in time. Livia was jostled at the litter swerved and held out both arms to steady herself, but the cushions did their job and prevented any accidental bumps into the hard wood. Had one of the bearers stumbled or what? "You think so too?" Livia propped her upper body on her elbow, tucking her hand under her chin. She gave her sister a warm grin. "I hope he is, that it's not all an act to get the girl like in plays." She didn't feel it was, but as everyone seemed to be so keen on pointing out in more or less roundabout ways, she was just an innocent young woman with nary an ounce of worldliness in her. "Oh, yes, there's that as well. I'll be counting on your help!" Between Horatia and her future mother-in-law, that was plenty of rolemodels. "We could sew together, like when I was little." It wasn't her favourite pastime, but she was good enough at it; plus it left the mouth free for chatting and was well-accepted by all. Such an innocent picture, two sisters spinning and sewing together in the domus of one of them, the youngest listening dutifully to the eldest's advice. "Let's stock up on sequins and pearls and beads now at the market!" @Sara

It seemed that in spite of his retirement, Aexius still enjoyed the occasional brawl. Clio couldn't say she was surprised: successful gladiators could grow addicted to the public's adoration as if it were wine, intoxicated by the crowd crying out their names in unison and the frenzy that followed a particularly skilled move in the arena. "Once a gladiator, always a gladiator," Clio commented with an amused shrug, taking a few sips of her wine. "Do you fight in any games from time to time? Or is it the... more unsanctioned variety you take part in?" The type that could arise from a night of heavy drinking, or a quarrel about a beautiful lover, or a few coins in exchange for physical protection from wrongdoers. What Alexius spoke made a lot of sense to her, even if it had never been an important consideration in the brief period Clio lusted after freedom. The men and women in a ludus shared a special bond, forged in blood and sweat and sometimes tears. They fought together, ate together, slept together, joked together, sparred together, trained together... Many came to see their companions as equals, sometimes friends. To wake up one day and find yourself taking orders from the bloke you had been drinking yourself stupid with the day before must be quite a trial of character. "I imagine it was even tougher on you than it was on them. Even if you know them to be good fighters, their opponents might be even better." She raised her cup in a mock toast to fallen gladiators of past and present and took another sip. Alexius had been generous in sharing his wine so far, but she wanted to stay sober for his stories. "The gods are wise, even if we don't always understand their designs. It's good that Fortuna let you try other things so you could see where your true calling lay. Fighting and drinking." Clio laughed, fully aware that she'd pushed things a bit but feeling Aexius wasn't the kind to get offended at that sort of joke. If he let it slide, she would also let slide his flirtatious comment about his having fun with good people like her. Tit for tat. "I'm Clio. Have been Clio my whole life, now that I think of it," she mused, frowning. It was common for owners to change their slaves' names, but maybe all her owners had thought hers fit her well and so never had; the alternative was that not one of them had cared enough to change it, and that was a sadder thought. @Atrice

Horatia's suggestion was not that outlandish to Livia's immature mind. She didn't quite know what exactly comprised her dowry or how much it was worth, but since she wanted her wedding day to be absolutely perfect, her future self couldn't possibly object to her present self using a little bit of said dowry to make things truly unforgettable. And then the silk could always be dyed and the dress recut into something more appropriate for a married woman, if Livia needed to come across as sensible. "That's a good idea, actually." Horatia was always so practical. Too practical, sometimes, but now she was probably too old to change. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and instead pressed her lips as she stared at the floor, waiting for Horatia to finish her little tirade. "Nobody said anything about your husband being absent, that's your own doing," Livia retorted cattily. "I obviously meant when he returns! Else I wouldn't even have bothered mentioning him." Did her sister really think so lowly of her?! Horatia was not the type to be cavorting with other men whether free or enslaved, anyone who knew her would know that. But the way her sister had jumped so quickly to accusations hurt Livia - and since she was so very unused to the role of being the bigger person, she did what she was familiar with and instead doubled down. "How much longer is he going to be away, anyway...?" she muttered, looking away. Though she kept silent for the few seconds it took her to get into the litter and settle into the cushions, Livia resumed their discussion as soon as the bearers started moving. "I know as much as a woman of my status and condition is expected to." The reply could be construed as diplomatic, but it was more of an attempt at verbal huffing. Of course she knew how it worked - well, the very basics. There were mosaics and decorated vases and murals everywhere detailing how the required parts should be joined. Whether there was anything more that was required in order to have children, besides the will of the gods - that was beyond Livia's current level of knowledge. The mention of their mother's early demise made Livia shrink back into the cushions, but no phantom shrieks played in her head this time; she'd grown much better at blocking them out in time. The momentary discomfort was shoved aside by youthful provocation, and Livia arched a brow at Horatia while her eyes issued her sister a small challenge. "Were you looking to teach me in her place?" @Sara

Was it really necessary to light incense when they had places to go and things to do? Livia's impatience disagreed, but she imitated her sister in lighting a stick in exchange for a donation nonetheless. The goddess might have been offended otherwise, and now more than ever it was her favour Livia wanted, not her spite. The stick caught on fire immediately - a good omen? - and released a fragrant aroma. Horatia seemed to be satisfied now, and Livia followed her in exiting the temple. Outside the air carried entirely different types of smells, but like most Romans both high and low-born, Livia barely noticed them anymore. She beamed at Horatia and pressed her palms together, lightly drumming her fingertips against each other. "She would, wouldn't she?" she agreed dreamily, picturing herself in one of Axiothea's custom gowns. The Egyptian seamstress could make even Medusa look as lovely as Helen of Troy from the shoulders down. "But do you think pater will allow it? It is a lot of silk... and a lot of money," she concluded, voice dipping at the end. Their father wasn't a stingy man, but since he already had his doubts about the groom, he might not be so willing to go all-out. Really, there shouldn't have been any need for Horatia to ask. They had just come out of a temple, no need to immediately hide themselves inside another one. But Livia would pretend to approach the question from the pondered angle Horatia herself preferred. "Well, if we go to the markets later in the day, most vendors will have done their business and all that will be left for us to look at is a small selection of low-quality pieces, whereas if we go now, they'll still have most of their wares available for sale." She flashed what she hoped was an innocent smile at her sister. "And the Bona Dea is so kind, she won't be upset if we visit her house in a couple of hours instead of now!" Livia deliberated failed to remark that she had her reservations about any marriage, present or future, of her sister's being 'fun'. Why, she probably spun wool or read silently all the time. It would be different with she and Gnaeus: they would visit gardens and temples together, and hold parties with music and pantomimes, and go to the races, and have fun! And in the moments in between, they would make babies. Feeling her cheeks grow hot as they went down the steps, Livia attempted a distraction manoeuvre by directing the conversation towards Horatia. "Speaking of fruitful, are you and Aulus done? Or is that part of your own wish to the goddess?" @Sara

Livia beamed with pleasure at Horatia's reply, choosing to ignore what she perceived as a lack of keenness and instead ascribing it to 'typical Horatia'. She very much doubted her sister would ever give herself wholly and entirely to something, even in the middle of a passionate tryst - not that she ever imagined such things! And if she did, Horatia was nowhere in the picture. Gnaeus and herself, on the other hand... Giggling again, she let Horatia's hands escape from her grip, already half-lost again in her own little world. The questions had her tilting her head and coquettishly biting her lower lip as if deep in thought. In actuality, Livia had already asked herself the same a few times, but had not yet made a decision. What if she saw a prettier dress later and had to go back on her word and undo the deal with the seamstress? Pater would not be too pleased with that, especially considering he was the one forking out the necessary coin. "I like Metrodora's designs, but do you think they're too Athenian? There are no Greeks in our family that I could pretend to pay homage to so I could get away with it." Were there any among the Hortensii-Clari? None that she knew of, though it wasn't her job yet to be intricately familiar with all of her future husband's ancestors. She fell in step with Horatia as they climbed up, instinctively lowering her voice to a whisper but not so respectful of the goddess that she would stop talking. There was so much still to discuss! "Axiothea of Alexandria makes the most marvellous silk dresses, too," she continued in hushed tones, giving a fake apologetic smile at an older woman who turned her head and frowned at them. The mention of her niece soured her giddy mood slightly - the ruddy little thing could stand to learn not being the centre of attention for one bloody morning. "Oh, she's got her nurse, she doesn't need you all the time," Livia waved dismissively as they reached the entrance. In an afterthought meant to appease Horatia, she added, "Though you could get her something from the markets! A nice brooch or something." What did four-year-olds even like? Sweets and dollies, she figured. Soon they were facing an imposing statue of Juno, and Livia finally piped down and busied herself praying and promising diverse sacrifices if all turned out well. After what she felt was an acceptable amount of time, she stole a glance at Horatia out of the corner of her eye to see if her sister was also done paying her respects. Then they could move on to the markets! @Sara

May, 67 AD It was unusual that a visit to one of Juno's many temples would elicit such enthusiasm within a not-particularly-devoted Livia, but to her it was one of many steps in preparing for the grand event next month. When June rolled to an end and was replaced by stifling July, she would be a married woman. To the man of her dreams, and not some bald, gouty old fart older than pater. Unable to keep the excitement to herself, Livia giggled out loud and only just barely managed to keep herself from clapping in delight. As she walked alongside Horatia in direction of the temple, their body slaves following respectfully behind, Livia could feel her sister's eyes on her. It was always so hard to tell with Horatia, but she hoped her sister was less disapproving of her choice of husband than their father - ideally, she wouldn't disapprove at all. But why should they? Gnaeus was so dashing and handsome and strong and brave, and his family was old as bones, and to think he wanted to take her as his wife! After all that had transpired in the last few years, at last the gods smiled upon her. Stopping impulsively in her tracks, Livia turned to Horatia and took her sister's hands in hers with a grin. "You will dress me, won't you, Horatia? In mother's stead?" Never mind that one of the slaves would probably do a better job of it; she wanted to share that moment with her sister. @Sara

Again with the dismissive hand-waving? Titus knew better than to act on his childish feelings of annoyance, but for a few seconds he entertained visions in his mind's eye of slicing off Longinus' hand, cutting off the fingers one by one and stuffing the whole lot where the sun didn't shine. That he managed to do it whilst sporting a serious look and, by the end of the short-lived fantasy, a very small smirk proved he retained at least a small amount of self-control; and it was that very same modicum that had him acknowledging the legate's offer with a seemingly genial nod and a neutral tone. "Very good. You have my thanks." If it were him calling the shots, Titus wouldn't allow the culprits the most part of a day to sit and come up with excuses - he would have preferred to do it quicker so as to catch them by surprise -, but to each their own. "One can't always afford to be popular," he piped up, not particularly concerned about the effect the outcome of this whole affair would have on anyone's reputation. Staying with the legion for a few days didn't quite bother him, either. In fact, and in spite of all the luxuries available to him at his usual quarters in Londinium, such as an actual bed and proper heating, he found he missed camp life. Shrugging, he cast a quick glance at Longinus. "All in the name of duty." Not that he would ever admit it, but staying for a couple of days also afforded him the opportunity to shadow the two men - assuming Aulus also was staying - and get a better feel for legate duties and what they entailed. "But that's the thing, even if he did not know of the scheme, the little rat still went and purchased the slaves. And he is probably experienced enough to understand that it had to be dodgy, he can't blame it on a rookie mistake." The possibility of a medicus (or more) being involved hadn't occurred to him at all. It was very much inside the realm of possibility, but the thought made his stomach turn unpleasantly. You counted on a medicus to save your life in the battlefield, they were supposed to be fair and above suspicion. If a medicus could be bought with bribes or promises of later rewards, then every single visit could become lethal as long as your enemies had more coin than you. "By Jupiter, if one of them's in on it too..." Soldiers were easily replaceable -somewhat -, but a skilled medicus was a different subject. They didn't grow on every oppidum like mushrooms. Titus pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh and looked up tiredly at Longinus. Next thing they knew, even the competent young tribune would be a part of the scheme from the way things were going. @Sara @Sharpie

Hi there Ejder! Glad you decided to join us Like Sharpie, I'm not green-thumbed either. In fact, the only plant I've managed not to kill within 3 months of getting it is an orchid that's currently about two years old. Was the trick ignoring it but for some water once a week all along?

The three of them seemed to be on the same page as to punishment: very public, so that others knew better than to try and concoct similar hare-brained schemes. "Whoever the mastermind is, I hope he will regret his actions by the end of the day and that any who might have thought to do the same reconsiders their life choices." Fustuarium was no slap on the wrist like spending a night outside the safety of camp. If Gaius or Mantius or both managed to escape, the blue-faced natives would finish the job their comrades had started. "For what it's worth, I agree with your... selection." Executing men for cheating the treasury, while effective, might be a mite too much. Before they could discuss what to do with Tabnit Longinus' tribune arrived and introductions were quickly made. 'This'. Relegated to the nobodies, was he? Just a background figure, an afterthought, eh? Most of Titus' newly-found goodwill evaporated on the spot just like that in spite of Aulus' now wasted efforts. Well, 'this' could cause a world of trouble for a certain cocky legatus when his report was due. And for all Longinus liked to gloat about his rank, out of the men inside the tent it was Titus who had the quickest way to the proconsul's office... and ears. He had proven himself reliable so far, so their commanding officer in the province would have no reason at all to suspect that any less beneficial comments amounted to simple, satisfying, extremely petty revenge. Seething in silence, he made as if the dismissive gesture didn't concern him and looked up at the perplexed tribune. The lad did not cut an impressive figure, but he was owed a greeting anyway. "Ave, Tribune," he echoed as neutrally as possible. For all his lack of gravitas, the tribune was quick on the uptake and wasted no time in going back out to fulfil the task he'd been assigned. "Reasonably content, yes," he confirmed, nodding at Longinus before turning to Aulus. "And your services would be very much appreciated. You've demonstrated well enough how important it is to have the voice of reason speak up when needed." Too bad said voice tended to be drowned out fairly quickly by less charitable thoughts. "Though I can't say whether it would be more useful to do it before or after Longinus is done with them." He cast the man a sneer. "Do it before and they will likely hold on to the farce of denial, do it after and they've got nothing left to lose but their lives." Which all men valued differently, anyway - and barring the slave trader, the guilty parties in this shoddy scheme knew fully well that theirs might be forfeit in their service of Rome. "I'll leave it up to legate Longinus to decide. I don't wish to impose on his plans; mine can certainly fit around them." He would take what he could get, be it soldiers full of bravado or whatever was left of them after being disciplined. Titus took a sip of wine and peered pensively into his cup. Despite all the jibes and thinly-veiled insults, the affair seemed to have wrapped up surprisingly fast; he had not expected to see its conclusion after only some hours. Aulus demonstrated time and again what a good, clear head he had on his shoulders, and for all his insufferable arrogance and conceited smiles, Longinus had caught on quickly and jumped into action practically at once. All things considered, they made a rather good team. Titus came back to what they'd been about to discuss before the interruption. "Right, what about the Syrian slaver? I reckon he's not a citizen?" A malevolent smirk played on his lips. Peregrini civilians were not exempt from torture or whipping. "His property could be confiscated, and his right to do business with the legions revoked in perpetuity. Bet that would have him crying and pleading." Those mercantile types from the Levant seemed to value trading and money-making above all else, and prohibiting one such man from buying and selling his wares might be as strong a blow to his pride as a proper flogging would be to his body. They could busy themselves with that discussion whilst the tribune went and rounded up the culprits. @Sara @Sharpie

Given the way the man had been acting so far and the bomb he had just dropped, it was a little odd that he should be turning bashful all of a sudden, confirming his claim with a simple declaration and then hiding behind his cup. At least he had been kind enough to refill hers too. Clio took a few sips to aid in regaining her bearings, having to force herself to drink slowly. Who would have thought this womaniser to have such an interesting story to tell? "Lexus..." Clio squinted, searching the depths of her brain for anything she might have heard about the man. She did not fancy herself the ultimate encyclopedia of gladiators past and present, but many former stars of the arena still lived on in the memories of the public or even erstwhile ludus mates. However, she could not recall having heard anything about this man - perhaps it had been too long ago. His next words confirmed that hypothesis. "Uh-huh, it sure does," Clio agreed, taking another drink from her cup. The wine had moderated her enthusiasm, but her eyes were still glinting with interest. "Fourteen years ago I was still a little girl in a Bithynian farm who had never heard of gladiators," she chuckled, offering an explanation as way of apology as to why his name had not rung a bell. "A shame I never got to see you fight, Alexius." She wondered what his style had been and what ludus he had originally been affiliated with. Her curiosity got the best of her. "Please, tell me more." The way she asked was not unlike a child begging for another story. "How old are you now? Was your ludus here in Rome? Are you still a lanista?" He'd mentioned that too, but she hadn't been able to tell if it was all in the past now. Most gladiators loved talking about themselves and their achievements in the arena, and from how this chance meeting had been going, Clio doubted Alexius was any different. Funny how she had pegged him for nothing but an overly friendly seducer at first - which he in all likelihood still was - but was eager to learn more about him and his past career now. Freed gladiators, while far from the stuff of legend, were not a dime a dozen; most fighters died attempting to reach that status. @Atrice

If Longinus was confident Rabirius was their man, then Titus would go along with it. If his friend turned out to be wrong and apprehended the wrong man, that would be on him and him alone, and his reputation amongst the troops would suffer a lethal blow. But Titus was not the legate of this legion and so he would suffer no consequences if things went wrong - and although he would never admit it, not even to himself, a small, salty part of him actually wanted to see Longinus fail spectacularly and gain some humility in the process. He shooed the thought away as quickly as it had appeared, suddenly ashamed of his innermost selfish desires. They were unmanly and unbecoming and would not - could not - be entertained again, not even for a fraction of an instant. Titus steeled his jaw in self-directed displeasure, oblivious as to how ill-advised it was to return Longinus' uneasy smile with such a gesture. And then with Aulus' gracious speech, he felt even guiltier about his short-lived spite. Even if he could not remember the last time somebody spoke of him in such commendable terms, he did not deserve such praise. If he'd had a mirror, Titus would have been able to see a hint of red colouring his cheeks, but even without one, the warm flush was embarrassing enough. "And you, my friend, are without a doubt the wisest of us," he told Aulus, offering a small yet genuine smile for the first time that day. "We are lucky to have you here to speak some sense to us." Aulus' diplomatic ways were a stark yet much-needed reminder of how much growth Titus still had left to do. If he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to act the part too and not let pettiness have free reign over him. Finding that his mood had lifted somewhat, Titus changed the topic slightly. "And once they're all rounded up, then what?" He glanced at the two officers in turn. "Public or private punishment?" @Sara @Sharpie

In a faithful imitation of his friend, Titus too listened carefully, though he had no problem sitting still or remained as focused as his state allowed him for as long as Varus' explanation went on. It was what he had expected to hear: one didn't need to be an actual lawyer, but it would be wise to have some notions of due proceedings. He nodded in between sips, finally downing what was left of the tisane. By the last gulps, he had grown mostly immune to the mind-blowing amount of pepper in it. Leaning back and waiting for the agricultural income to materialise and fund their lifestyle might be a life goal for a good number of senators, but as far as Titus was concerned, few things could be as unbearably dull. Wait a number of years for a tree to bear fruit, harvest produce only a few weeks a year, and being entirely reliant on adequate weather, competent works and unblighted crops... Honest and necessary work, but so, so dull. Too slow-paced. Duller than poring through treaties on law and past verdicts; those were, if nothing else, a finite quantity. And not too different from reading intelligence reports or tellings of past war encounters - perhaps a little drier in form, but not entirely unrelated. He turned to face Longinus with a malicious smirk. "Maybe as much work as preparing a campaign, just a different kind of battle." A more civilised one, many would argue. But exactly how much paperwork Longinus would have gone through each time in preparation for various moves was anybody's guess - and Titus' guess was probably not a lot. He knew his friend favoured swift action above many things. "How very noble of you to finally show some consideration and sympathy, dear friend." Titus' tone was jocose, but inwardly he was appreciative of the lull in the conversation. His concentration was waning and he felt he wasn't able to get as much out of the encounter as he should. Probably best to sleep off this bloody fever and try again another day - maybe under the guise of bringing Publius for a play date. He gave Varus a sheepish, apologetic look. "As much as it vexes me to admit it, good Longinus here is right. I do hope I won't offend you by retreating earlier..." Titus cast Longinus a quick, wry glance, but its impact was minimised by a sudden coughing fit, as if to emphasise his earlier statement. "Do feel free to carry on without me, though." @Atrice @Sara

LIVIA JUSTINA 27 | 4th March 48CE | Senatore | Matron | Heterosexual | Original | Noémie Schmidt Personality If the Livia of twenty years ago and the current Livia were to meet, they would hardly believe they were the same person. Unfortunate life events have forced Livia to adapt and reinvent herself, and each time the end result has differed markedly from the starting point. To those who only know her superficially, she is a quiet and withdrawn thing whose favourite pastime appears to be sewing, leaving some to wonder if she is trying to live up to the deified Augusta of the same name. When in more familiar company, glimpses of the inquisitive and outgoing child she once was surface occasionally. Regardless of who she is with, Livia makes the effort to commit to (an unfortunately good) memory small details and information about the other party; not only does this leave them with a favourable impression of her but it also allows her to direct the spotlight away from herself and onto others. Livia measures her words and acts carefully and holds tightly on to what little measure of control she is afforded. The gaiety and spontaneity of her youth eventually gave way to calculations and worst-case scenarios; her passivity and hesitance to act before all outcomes and consequences are accounted for are not innate, but acquired. She possesses an attention to detail in everything she does, be it from making additions to the hem of a palla to giving orders to her slaves. Perhaps because of this, combined with the few opportunities she has to be the one in charge and her need for someone else to be the weakest link for once, slaves find her a hard mistress to please. Appearance A blonde like some of her relatives, Livia’s hair is long and naturally wavy, its curls exaggerated by elaborate styling. Whereas she used to take pride in it and would gladly spend hours having it cared for by ornatrices, nowadays it looks rather dull, with only a passable amount of effort put into it. Her green eyes, once shrewd and vivacious, seem tired and lifeless. Livia’s smiles are few, quick and short and she finds it safer to chuckle lightly when something amuses her than to break out in full-fledged laughter. Petite and slender at just 157 cm, Livia cuts no imposing figure. Her body has not changed much in the last ten years – no sagging breasts, rounded hips or flabby belly -, but the same cannot be said of her posture: though she still sits and stands up straight, she almost always lowers her head to avoid eye contact and appears to be lost elsewhere within her mind, mostly uninterested in what goes on around her. Her garments are of fine quality but sober in colour and fashion, although the accompanying jewellery is often more eye-catching and intricate. Family Father: Marcus Horatius Justinus (alive, 63) Mother: Livia Calavia (deceased in the Civil War) Siblings: Publius Horatius Justinus (alive, b. 35 AD) Horatia Justina (alive, b. 42 AD) Lucius Horatius Justinus (alive, twin brother) Spouse: Gnaeus Hortensius Clarus (b. 43 AD, d. 70 AD) Secundus Quinctilius Varus (b. 28 AD) Children: Early miscarriage (69 AD) Stillborn daughter (70 AD) Extended family: Aulus Calpurnius Praetextatus (brother-in-law via Horatia) Titus Calpurnius Praetextatus (nephew) Calpurnia Horatia (niece) Tertius Quinctilius Varus (brother-in-law via Secundus) - Teutus Quinctilius Varus (nephew-in-law) - Antonia Varia (niece-in-law) Quinctilia Varia (sister-in-law via Secundus) - Sergia Auletia (niece-in-law) - Marcus Sergius Auletius (nephew-in-law and lover) Other: History CHILDHOOD [48 – 60 AD] Livia Justina was the last-born of the four Justini siblings, a few minutes after her twin brother Lucius and with an even better pair of lungs despite her small size. Named for her mother, who fell ill shortly after the birth but eventually recovered somewhat, Livia grew up a curious and lively child, constantly asking questions about everything and anything and keeping up with her brothers and their boisterous playing whilst their older sister Horatia kept a watchful eye on them. She remembers little of her earlier years in Rome but has fond memories of the family’s time in Hispania and the freedom to run about and play that she and Lucius had there. Eventually they returned to Rome, where Livia began her incursions in the world of learning. Unlike Horatia with her fondness for reading, Livia preferred more active pursuits like swimming or playing ball and discovered a natural talent for sewing and weaving. TEENAGE YEARS [60 – 66 AD] Puberty brought not only its own set of worries, but also a deeper understanding of the turmoil Roman society is plunged into. Between half of her family leaving for Greece for a couple of years and all the rioting and constant fighting for power in Rome, Livia grew up far more cautious and fearful than she should have had to, keeping a low profile and urging her twin to do the same. Their mother was added to the long, long list of victims of the civil war on one fateful day, and Livia struggled with vivid nightmares of the violent demise for months on end. Peace was finally achieved after years of fighting as Quintus Caesar was victorious and life could start to resume its normal pace. For Livia this meant that the much delayed affair of finding a suitable husband and becoming a proper and virtuous matron began in earnest. ADULTHOOD [67 AD - present] In 67 AD and after a great deal of persuading and convincing her father, Livia married Gnaeus Hortensius Clarus, heir to an old and distinguished family and five years her senior. Having already caught one another’s eye at several occasions long before the wedding, the couple’s impressions were confirmed as they quickly grew fond of each other and had a happy marriage in between Gnaeus’ career-related absences. Their bliss was marred by an early miscarriage in 69 AD, but Livia got pregnant again soon afterwards. However, news of Gnaeus’ sudden and unexpected death in Judea sent her into preterm labour and Livia gave birth to a daughter too premature to survive. The next two years saw Livia grieving deeply and undergoing drastic personality changes to the point where she avoided visits or gatherings and became somewhat of a recluse. In a clumsy and misguided attempt to bring his youngest daughter out of her mourning and back into Roman society, her father arranges for her to marry Secundus Quinctilius Varus, paterfamilias and older than Livia by almost twenty years but still unmarried and childless. Too apathetic to fight the decision, Livia does as expected of her and exchanges vows with Secundus in 73 AD. The union could not have been more disastrous: her new husband is very prone to sudden, unpredictable and terrifying bouts of bad temper, fuelled by his past tribulations in Germania, and Livia grows even quieter and more withdrawn, trying her best not to provoke his fury. Unfortunately it is not always enough, and Livia has found herself slapped, kicked, dragged by the hair and on the receiving end of various indignities more times than she cares to count. Whereas a more spirited woman would have returned to her father’s house and demanded a divorce at once, Livia feels that the failure of yet another marriage would bring shame to her father and siblings as well as their families by association, and has subconsciously convinced herself that she deserves her fate for having failed to honour her first husband’s legacy and bring a living, healthy child by him into the world. Her suffering has recently been somewhat alleviated by an illicit liaison: Livia has found a measure of compassion and solace in the arms of Marcus Sergius Auletius, the son of her husband’s sister and an ambitious young man who is none too fond of his uncle. For the time being only their respective body slaves are privy to the affair, although rumours may start to circulate should the pair grow bolder or less careful. Liv | GMT+1 | PM here or DM Liv#5452 @Gothic

61 AD He was at his wits’ end. He had gone through every trick in the book. Tickling had borne no success: she had twisted and turned and batted his hand away with her tiny chubby ones while crying all the while. She wasn’t hungry, either – Valeria had seen to that not even an hour earlier. Bouncing her on his knee while making clicking sounds resembling a horse’s trotting was effective for all of two minutes, during which Sulpicia stopped her wailing and looked up and around with watery eyes, waving her arms up and down excitedly and squealing in delight before whatever was bothering her won out again and the crying resumed. Rocking and shushing her to try and get her to sleep was as futile as teaching a monkey to read, and making goofy faces or cooing distracted her only for a few seconds. What else was he supposed to try? Holding Sulpicia against his chest as he paced the room, Titus was beginning to feel like he too wanted to cry out in exasperation. Seeing his baby like that, ruddy-faced and eyes scrunched up in discomfort, if not pain, whilst tears ran down her plump cheeks and drool dribbled down her chin, was no crowning moment of parenthood. In fact, he felt like the most incompetent person in the world. Could she be thirsty? She was a bit too warm too, Titus concluded as he softly pressed his lips to her forehead – but that could easily be thanks to this fuss she had worked herself into. A slave brought a small cup of water as commanded and made a respectful retreat. Sulpicia took only a few sips before turning her face away and starting to squall again. Titus put the cup down with a defeated sigh and bit his lower lip, willing his stumped brain to please come up with one more thing, or two, or ten. It did not oblige. Defeated, Titus frowned and poked his daughter gently on the tip of the nose. “Are you hungry after all? Hmm? Do you want your mama?” Sulpicia replied with unintelligible pained babbling before grabbing his finger in a vice grip and bringing it to her mouth. When she began to chew on it with all the might and abandon of a starving man, Titus experienced an eureka moment. Teething. The more he thought about, the more obvious it seemed. Babies were born without teeth – as they very sensibly should be. According to bits and pieces he had heard, they would usually make an appearance during the second half of the baby’s first year of life, should baby survive that long. Seemed as clear as V + V = X. The second sudden realisation that followed the first one only lent it more strength: how could a baby’s gums be so hard and exert such force? Fearing for the integrity of his finger, Titus removed his spit-covered index from Sulpicia’s mouth before she chewed it to the bone. She gave him a puzzled, slightly betrayed look before knitting her brow and expressing her displeasure quite loudly. Let it not be said he was a man who did not learn from his mistakes. Eager for silence to return, he offered her his pinky, vanquished yet relieved that the cause of her stroppiness had come to light. As Sulpicia bit and chomped away at his finger in delight, Titus wondered what could be a suitable victim instead. Soft leather? Wool? He might have to defer to the women in the family, and do it soon. He only had ten fingers, after all.

Oh yum, it looks so tasty! Do you think chickpeas or green/brown lentils would work too? Hate peas of all colours

At last this little enterprise was bearing fruit. Three men identified and hopefully unsuspecting of what awaited them, one more to go. Though he was too cross at everything and everyone for a number of more or less explainable reasons, Titus silently approved of Longinus' note-taking; about fucking time, too. "Yeah, don't want to tip them off." Word travelled fast in close quarters, and contrary to the solid image they projected, bored legionaries were as willing and able as old widows when it came to gossip and wagging tongues. He would like to stick around to see if the culprits would be appropriately punished, but time was a scarce commodity as of late. If the affair came to a conclusion soon, then maybe he could linger a little while longer. And yet again Aulus displayed the benefits of keeping a cool head: it stood to reason that the men could not have been strangers to each other, but rather the opposite. Perhaps even tent mates. "All right, let's see..." Titus muttered, more to himself than to the other men in the tent. A cursory glance yielded no results, but he'd only been looking for capital Gs and the penmanship could definitely use some work. It could also be the case that the man in question favoured the older spelling, and so Titus studied the list more carefully. "One Caius Volusenus..." Into view came a very misshapen G, but one nonetheless. Even his daughter could do better. "Gaius Rabirius..." And another one, further down the list. "Gaius Curius... And that's it for this one." He lifted his gaze from the list and let it flit about expectantly, hoping one of the names had sparked a flash of recognition. Otherwise, they might as well order all the Gaii in the whole bloody legion to line up against a wall and have their balls chopped off one by one until a little piggy lost his bravado and squealed. @Sara @Sharpie