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Imperium (Vic and Velvet Whispers)

The stench of Rome's decay clung to Calliope as they moved through the chaos, the air thick with the scent of rot and the distant echoes of a city in turmoil. She kept Vibius close, shielding him with her body, her heart pounding not from fear but from the fierce determination that now drove her. Rome was crumbling around them, yet she saw this not as the end, but as the beginning of a new chapter—one that she would craft with her own hands.

When the mob surrounded them, she felt Vibius tremble against her. But she held her head high, her eyes sharp, watching as Marcus faced the throng. She admired his strength, his unyielding presence that cut through the crowd's bravado like a sword through flesh. The tension was electric, but she refused to show fear. Rome had taught her well—weakness had no place in the pursuit of power.

As they made their way toward the hills, she kept her focus on what lay ahead. Vibius was silent, but she could feel the weight of his fear. He was still a child, but that innocence would soon be stripped away. He would have to grow up quickly, learn the harsh realities of life in a city where power was the only currency. She knew he must be strong, not just in mind but in body, prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

The safe house was a welcome sight as dawn began to break, its stone walls offering a sanctuary from the madness that engulfed the city. She ushered Vibius inside, her hand still protectively on his shoulder. The interior was sparse but secure, a place where she could gather her thoughts and begin to plan their next move.

Kneeling before Vibius, she brushed a hand through his hair, her heart aching for the childhood he was about to lose. "You were very brave, my love," she whispered, her voice soft but edged with resolve. "But there is much more to be done. We must prepare for what is to come."

Her mind raced, already strategizing the steps that needed to be taken. Caligula's unpredictability had turned from an advantage to a liability, and now the time had come to act. She would see her son on the throne, but he needed to be ready, to be more than just a figurehead. He needed to be a ruler—one who could command both respect and fear.

She turned to Marcus, her gaze steady and commanding. "Vibius must learn to defend himself, to understand the strength required to rule. He must be shaped into the leader Rome will follow."

She felt the weight of her decision, but there was no hesitation. This was not just about survival; it was about power. "This is where we begin," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed out at the hills. "Caligula's reign will end, and when it does, it will be our names that are whispered in fear and reverence."

Her thoughts were already turning to the allies she would need to gather, the plans she would need to lay. Rome would not fall into chaos; it would bend to her will. She would guide Vibius to the throne, and through him, she would rule. And those who dared to oppose them would find themselves crushed beneath the weight of her ambition.

She looked back, her expression fierce and unyielding. "Rome will know soon enough that it is no longer Caligula they should fear. It is us."
 
Marcus. He felt better using that name now that he was outside the roar of the city. Calliope would come and go; her disappearance would neither be asked nor talked about. Six time she left on the first day and always appeared to be headed into the city with darkly cloaked and hooded women; once he thought he saw a member of the Vestal Virgins.

So on the second day, left alone with Vibius he listened to the Harp and then how disciplined he was about his lessons.

"Do you want to learn to yield a gladius."

He saw the look of thrill in the boys face; and then one of "is this a trick." There was no way Calliope would let him play with weapons. No, she had him as a philosopher King and the look of mistrust left the boys face as Marcus said "it will be our secret." Vibius made a mad dash for the gladius, only for it to be taken from his reach right as he neared his goal as he was told:

"You will learn with sticks, lets go find a suitable one."

Soon they had a stick that Marcus took a dagger out and began to whittle. Soon Vibius had a proper stick sword and they spent the next hour teaching Vibius how to hold it. The boy was like a restless colt, ready to charge for victory and not learning his lessons until Marcus told him. "Okay, come at me." Vibius looked brave, sort of assumed the stance they had been working on for the last 4 hours and lunged......

Only to feel the blunt end of a real gladius on his ass, sending him flying ever forward and into a tree. As he turned, the gladius point was at his throat. "This isn't the harp boy, if you make a mistake like that in combat, your mother won't be around to kiss your head, that head will be on a pagan spear."

So they continued until the sun went down. Calliope not to be seen as he prepared a meal for the boy; lamb, home made corn bread, ice cold water and a roman vegetables called onion and cabbage. Soon Vibius was sleeping at the table as Marcus carried him and put him to bed, sleeping carefully outside the door until Calliope came home.
 
Calliope returned under the cover of night, her cloak heavy with the scent of the city and the chill of the evening air clinging to her skin. Her movements were precise, quiet as she approached the safe house, her mind already swirling with the details of the day. Plans had been set in motion, whispers carried through Rome's darkest corners, and alliances—secret but strong—were beginning to form. The Vestal Virgins had been more cooperative than she expected. Their influence, quiet but unshakable, would prove vital in the days to come.

She pushed open the door and found the room dimly lit, the warm flicker of the fire casting soft shadows on the walls. Marcus was there, seated by the door, his posture relaxed but alert, as though he had been waiting for her. Her eyes softened when they fell upon him. For a moment, the weight of the world outside seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth and safety of his presence.

Vibius was fast asleep, tucked away, his innocent face peeking out from under the covers. She approached her son quietly, her hand brushing the hair from his forehead with maternal care. A pang of guilt surged through her. He had been through so much already, far more than any child should, but this was the way of Rome. He needed to learn quickly—there was no place for weakness in their future.

Rising, she turned to Marcus. He was watching her with that same unwavering gaze, a quiet strength that had become a source of comfort to her in these turbulent days. She approached him slowly, her cloak falling from her shoulders as she stood before him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice low and intimate. "For staying with him." Her fingers brushed his arm, and she felt the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. "I see you've begun his training."

Marcus gave a subtle nod, but she saw more in his eyes—something deeper, a quiet understanding between them. The boy would need more than philosophy to survive what was coming.

Her hand lingered on his arm as she stepped closer, her body just inches from his. The intensity of the day, the chaos of Rome, all of it melted away in that moment. She looked up at him, her breath mingling with his as she closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. It was a kiss that spoke of gratitude, of trust, and of the bond that had grown between them in the midst of the storm.

When they pulled apart, her eyes held his, a spark of determination flickering within them. "It's time, Marcus. Caligula has grown too dangerous. He won't stop until he destroys everything that stands in his way—and that includes us. I won't let him take Vibius, or Rome."

She paused, her mind running through the countless threads of her plan, each one weaving together into something larger. "The Vestal Virgins are with us. Their influence will help sway the people. And I've made contact with several senators who grow weary of Caligula's madness. They want him gone but lack the courage to act. We will give them that courage."

Her voice dropped lower, her words now for Marcus alone. "We will remove Caligula, but we must be careful. His German guard is loyal to him, and they are dangerous. We need to strike quickly, decisively, before word spreads. And when he falls, Vibius will take his rightful place. Rome will be ours."

Her fingers trailed down his arm, gripping his hand with a strength that mirrored her resolve. "But I need you by my side, Marcus. You've seen the world beyond Rome's walls, you understand what's at stake. Together, we can do this. We can build something stronger, something lasting—for Vibius, for the future."

Her eyes gleamed with ambition, the fire of her determination blazing bright. "Are you with me?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with a power that would not be denied.
 
The kiss. It was something he had never experienced before. On the borders of Rome there was no softness. It was the hard edge of the Legions keeping their leather sandals on the necks of the barbarians. Sex was rough and brutal. Sex was something you did when you were bored but this? This was something he had never experienced before. First, Calliope's lips were soft. Softer and rounder and fuller than anything he had ever had in his life. It was like they were precious and even though she came to him first, her mouth melted into his, his rough tongue pushing on hers, his fingers on the back of her neck, but then.....

He lost control. He melted into her kiss, perhaps even closing his eyes and just enjoying the experience and then she left him hungry.

And then she reverted to the form of every woman he had been with in his entire life. The Roman woman needed him. She didn't need him sexually, that was something she could acquire from any of her slaves and this was a woman who used sex as a weapon. No, this woman needed him because he was the only person in Rome who could control the Germans; who could match their unrivalled brutality and then do far worse. If you asked a German who they were afraid of, they would always say "the dog". Not only that, the Germans wanted to be released on the Roman population. They lusted after women like Calliope and if she were to fall into their grip, they would sexually rip her apart piece by piece.

So Calliope thought she had the Senate under control? Marcus knew she didn't. The very Senators she thought she had kissing her ass had told Caligula the same thing. No, the best she could hope for was that the Senator's remained neutral and if she struck fast and hard enough, maybe..........maybe the Senator's would come around and the German's would go on bended knee to Marcus.

Finally, Calliope didn't understand the jealousy of her in Rome. She forgot, he had been security for Caligula and had heard the women (and men), "She thinks her purity is a model? Her purity sickens me". "She thinks she will teach me good habits? The bitch will fall into my hand's one day and she can be good at the end of my cock."

No, Calliope was doomed to fail. She was too good for this whole damn rotten lot of Roman pigs.

So as she asked him if he was "in", he knew the answer. "Of course Calliope, you should never doubt me for a second." He meant it. He meant it because she was the only damn good thing in the world worth fighting for.
 
Calliope felt the tremor of Marcus' body as she pulled away from the kiss, her eyes searching his, taking in the rawness of what had just passed between them. She had expected control from him, strength—the hardened soldier who held the loyalty of brutal men and commanded fear with nothing more than a glance. But in that moment, she had felt him unravel, felt the hunger and desire that had surprised even him. It pleased her. His vulnerability, so carefully hidden beneath the scars of war, was hers to wield.

Yet, she knew better than to let this moment become more than what it was. She had always been a master of balancing affection with distance, of giving just enough to keep them wanting more, but never enough to lose herself in the process. That was the game, the unspoken dance. And Marcus, though strong and ruthless, was no exception.

Her eyes, sharp and calculating, softened briefly as he spoke. "Of course, Calliope, you should never doubt me for a second."

She smiled, but it was not the kind of smile that spoke of joy or tenderness. No, it was the smile of a woman who had known Rome's darkest corridors, who had maneuverer through its labyrinth of power with a grace that belied her cunning. She knew his answer even before he gave it. Marcus was a man of honour, a man of duty. He would follow her, fight for her, kill for her—because in this world of shadows, blood, and betrayal, she had become his light.

"I never doubted you," she said, her voice a velvet whisper as her hand trailed down his arm, resting briefly on his forearm. She tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with purpose. "I know what you're capable of, Marcus. I've seen it in the way the Germans look at you, in the way they flinch when they hear your name. You command fear, and that is a power few possess."

She took a step back, her gaze flickering to the window where the faint sounds of the city in chaos could still be heard. "But you must understand something about Rome. It is not just about strength. It's about perception, about influence. The Senate, the plebs, even the damned German guard—they all have their roles to play, but they're driven by more than just fear. They are driven by ambition, by jealousy, by the games they think they can win."

Her expression hardened. "I am well aware of the whispers, of the jealousy that festers in the hearts of those who see me as a threat. They envy what they cannot be. They hate what they cannot control. But I've dealt with the petty schemes of the Senate before, and I will do so again. Caligula is losing his grip on them—he's become unpredictable, a liability even to those who once adored him. The Senate will not move against him directly, not without someone strong enough to lead the charge. That someone is us."

She stepped closer to Marcus again, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "But we cannot rely on them. Not fully. The Germans, the legions—they respect you. And when the time comes, it will be you who turns them to our side. You will be the force that breaks Caligula's reign, and when you do, we will take the throne for Vibius. Rome will be ours, and no one will stand in our way."

Her hand reached up, caressing his cheek, her touch soft but her words sharp. "I know the dangers, Marcus. I know the risks. But I've come too far to turn back now. I don't expect mercy from Rome, and I won't offer it in return. What I do expect is loyalty. From you."

She paused, her gaze locking with his. "We cannot fail, Marcus. Not now. Not when everything is so close."

Then, her smile returned, softer this time but no less dangerous. "I know how to play this game. I've been playing it for years. And now, with you at my side, we'll finish it."

Her hand slid down his chest before she turned, casting a final glance over her shoulder. "We'll start tonight. There's no time to waste. Caligula won't know what's coming."
 
It felt rushed. But if she wanted to get rid of Caligula immediately, he was for it. In fact, it did make sense. Each minute they waited; who knew if a Senator Calliope approached would sing to the madman? Not only that but Caligula was whimsical. He remembered the Senator trying to lunge at him for defiling his daughter.

From the hill they looked down. Rome was burning. Acrid fumes filled their nostrils as he finally said "the boy needs to remain safe, I don't think he will be safe in Rome and I have people who can take care of him in the North." He looked at her for the okay to start the process.

He then put on the uniform of Legion X. It had been similar to what he had on, only now he had no standard. No marking. It was like he was a forgotten soldier, his gladius honed to a killing point. If she wanted to go to war he would follow, but he hadn't seen or heard much of her plan. "We march on the palace then? The two of us?" He wanted to know how to start and he was in for Calliope's plot, whether it was based on sound judgement or not.
 
Calliope stood still, her eyes fixed on the burning city below. The flames reflected in her gaze, dancing with a mixture of fury and purpose. Rome was a city of chaos, and the time for patience had passed. She inhaled deeply, the acrid smoke from the fires stinging her lungs, yet her resolve hardened. Caligula's madness could no longer be allowed to rule. Each minute, each breath, was a gamble she could no longer afford to take.

Marcus' words broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the immediate concern—Vibius. She glanced at her son, innocent yet caught in the storm of Roman politics. The thought of him being harmed, or worse, used as a pawn by Caligula, sent a chill down her spine. But she couldn't let that fear paralyze her. She was determined to ensure his safety, even if it meant sending him far from her reach for now.

"The boy," she murmured, almost to herself before turning fully toward Marcus. Her voice was clear, decisive. "Yes, take him north. He'll be safer away from all of this." Her hand briefly brushed Vibius' hair, a tender gesture amidst the chaos. "I trust you to protect him, Marcus. But we can't delay. Every moment we wait is a moment Caligula gains the upper hand."

Watching him don the uniform of Legion X, Calliope felt a surge of confidence. Marcus was a weapon, sharp and deadly, one she intended to wield with precision. Still, his question lingered—what was the plan? How would they strike?

"The two of us," she echoed, but her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Rome is burning, but Rome also listens. There are ears and eyes in the shadows, Marcus. People who are just waiting for the right moment, the right signal. We won't march on the palace alone."

She stepped closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the armour beneath. "The Senators are cowards, but they're also predictable. They won't act openly, not yet, but they're watching. They're waiting to see who will emerge from the flames. Caligula has ruled by terror for too long, and the balance is tipping. We just need to tip it further."

Her eyes locked onto his. "We start by cutting off the head. Caligula's strongest support comes from his German guard, but they follow power, not loyalty. When they see him falter, they'll hesitate. That's when we strike. The palace will fall, not by brute force but by the chaos we'll unleash from within."

She stepped back, her voice low, yet filled with steely determination. "But it begins with us. Tonight, we sow doubt in the palace—whispers of betrayal, rumours of revolt. By the time the sun rises, Caligula's own paranoia will be his undoing. When the time comes, Marcus, you'll lead the strike, but we'll have the Senate and half of Rome's own guard turning on him before the blade even touches his throat."

Calliope's hand slid down to her side, where a dagger was strapped beneath her cloak. "Rome doesn't need an emperor who rules through madness. It needs a ruler with vision, with control. And that ruler will be my son. We take the throne tonight—for Vibius, for Rome, for us."

Her voice softened as she met Marcus' gaze once more. "Are you ready?"
 
He made eye contact with her. His eyes never leaving as they made their sacred pact. He went to the fire, stoking the coals and sending heat off into a chilling night.

"We strike tonight". His leather had been carefully oiled, his sword sharp and when it sprung from its sheath it would hum the story of death and killing. He was the one in charge now. There would be time when Calliope would sit with her Greek philosophers and ponder the fate of the universe. When she would figure out the revenues and expenses and keep a velvet glove inside an iron fist, but for now.

He heard the sound before he saw it. His body was already tense as his years of combat had given him a sixth sense of survival. His sword was out and hacking at the hands what were reaching through the window, watching one severed at the forearm. Whoever Calliope had outside as guards were dead or they had sold her for 30 pieces of silver. "Grab the boy out the back" was all he told her as he heard the hard gutteral German as another one came in through the door.

In the confined space the dog had the advantage. The 20 Germans could not bull rush him but had to come in through the window or the door and he was practiced at the art of channeling an enemy into a narrow passage. He would lie if he said it didn't feel good, the heft of the sword and the weight of the gladius. So practiced as he yelled back insults at the Germans.

Slowly they realized who it was and they had at least two dead and two without appendages. They waited for him to attack but he did not. He was just giving Calliope enough time to escape............

But little did he know the Germans wanted her to go out the back because there were four of the waiting for her. Waiting to pull her by the hair and drag her to the ground. To bind her wrists and gag her so she couldn't cry for help. The Germans at the door were just being used as a decoy.
 
The night had fallen hard, shadows thickening with the threat she could feel in her bones. Calliope had trusted her instinct, but something now felt wrong. As Marcus stoked the fire, she caught the glint in his eyes—determination, fierce and raw. The pact they had made bound them together, not just in ambition but in survival. Yet the unease crept in.

The sounds came, faint but unmistakable. She saw Marcus tense, his body a coil of trained violence, and when the sword flashed in the dim light, her heart raced. His command was sharp, cutting through her momentary paralysis. "Grab the boy out the back."

Vibius. She couldn't hesitate. She darted for him, her fingers brushing his small frame as he huddled behind the doorway. But just as her hand grasped his shoulder, a sickening realization hit her—the trap. The Germans wanted her to run. The panic rose in her throat, but she swallowed it, forcing calm. She was no helpless Roman wife; she had been raised in the political heart of Rome, and her mind was as sharp as Marcus' blade.

She heard the scrape of boots behind her, the guttural sounds of the Germans positioning themselves. The back exit. It was their ploy. They waited for her like wolves in the dark.

Vibius clung to her, his small hand trembling in hers, and in that moment, the rage overtook the fear. She would not be dragged like a lamb to slaughter, not tonight, not ever. Calliope's mind raced, calculating, turning the trap on itself. She yanked Vibius close, her lips brushing his ear.

"Stay behind me," she whispered fiercely.

With a single fluid motion, she unsheathed the dagger she always kept hidden beneath her robes, its blade gleaming faintly in the firelight from the room behind. If the Germans thought she would flee, they underestimated her. Her pace slowed as she neared the exit, her ears straining for the sound of movement—waiting for the exact moment they would spring their ambush.

She heard the rustle, the harsh breath of anticipation. Just as one of the brutes reached for her, she spun on her heel, dagger flashing. She struck fast, catching the first German off-guard, the blade sinking into his neck before he could shout. The other three lunged, but her mind was already calculating her next moves. She wasn't a warrior like Marcus, but her ferocity came from something deeper—from a need to survive, to win for her son, for herself.

"Run, Vibius!" she barked as she moved forward, slashing at the next man's thigh. Her eyes darted to the narrow alley, her path out closing fast. But if she could just slow them long enough—

Vibius, obedient and terrified, bolted past her toward the clearing behind the villa. Calliope, in the midst of her fight, caught the fleeting moment of his small form disappearing into the night. Her breath came heavy, the coppery scent of blood mixing with the cool air.

But she couldn't stop. One wrong move, and they'd have her down. And if they had her, they'd have Rome. She could see it already in the eyes of the one who grabbed for her hair—the lust for power, for domination.

With a growl of defiance, she twisted from his grasp, plunging her dagger deep into his chest. The last one faltered, realizing too late that the woman he was sent to capture had already turned the game on him.

As she panted, the bodies of the Germans littering the ground, she looked back at the house, the sound of Marcus' sword still clashing with the enemy. They weren't safe yet. But she had made her stand.

They wanted her bound. They wanted her helpless.

But Calliope of Rome was no one's prisoner.
 
16 Germans blocked the front entrance against 1 determined man. One man blocked them. Partially they didn't swarm over his reputation and partially it was because he had expertly cut four of them down, two of those were an impediment to attacking him as they lie crossways across the door.

Another one gained enough courage, whether from the alcohol or the emperor's promise to make him the richest man in his tribe. A dark gutteral cry as he ran across a wounded comrade, his sword out, swinging wildly as Marcus let him swing, stepping back, making the German lunge with his second thrust as the gladius plunged up and in the German, rotating as you could see the entrails and Marcus whispered "meet your maker" as he already had the Roman sword out, free of it being stuck in bones as he kicked the Germans face and faced his opponents.

And that is when he heard the scrambling out the back door. He couldn't believe it, he had fallen for a trap. Facing the Germans he gave up the absolutely defensible passageway allowing himself to be put in danger to aid Calliope in the rear passageway.

It was then that two Germans rushed him. He went to the side, his sword at an angle but he had misjudged it and took a scathing cut in his arm, his gladius already coming up and tearing through the testicles of a German as he kicked the other one in the chest. Bleeding now from his left forearm he was out the back door and saw four mercenaries defeated. It was obvious she had gone out the narrow passageway as he blocked it again. He breathed silently as he had another defensible position as he slowly backed up.

But no barbarians came. He continued his slow and practiced withdrawal, feeling the blood spurt out of his arm as he reached the end of the alleyway.

And collapsed from lack of blood.
 
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