Placida (Hector and O C T O x p o d)

[Hector]

Alaric, the feared barbarian, the king of all, stood silently near Temple of Hercules, vindicating his grief on his unwilling decision of sacking Rome. Something he never thought he would do. That noon the sun was brightest than ever but still he felt chill to such a harsh decision. Finally, the invincible, untouchable Rome had fallen to the fury of same people who she battered for years. The armed barbarians brick by brick destroyed the city and left the streets red with the blood of its own people. Although it was not the end of Rome but it was certainly the beginning of an end. The glorious Rome, with its ancient tales of power, riches and madness were finished.

Truth to be told Alaric never desired war rather he wished to be a part of Rome. A piece of land was all he was seeking, a safe haven for his nomadic people, a place they could call home. For this dream he even negotiated the Roman Empire, not once, not twice but trice but all he gained in return was betrayal. His people were filled with hatred because of the years of exploitation and they wanted their vengeance. Unfamiliar with the political affairs, they started to suspect why their king was not calling for a war despite having a large army against week Rome, thus at last Alaric called for the sack of Rome.

His brother Ataulf knew what Alaric was going through but he was preoccupied collecting his share of the booty. The colossal Roman wealth was more than what Goths could carry along but they wanted to take everything they could. With a blood red sword in his hand, ragged cloths and bleeding wounds Ataulf walked inside the Royal Palace looking for the best part of this loot… Princess Gala Placida.

 

[O C T O x p o d]

The bright noon light, for Placida, seemed tainted with the blood of Rome. It's trade and temples were burning, it's markets and priest murdered. Heavy smoke hung in a thick pall, muffling the air and terrible noises of slaughter. Her servants had fled and were probably dead or worse, she considered. Her guards, valiant as they were, lay in crumpled heaps, sodden with blood.

For all Placida knew she could be the new Empress of Rome, or at least what was left of this. In safety she had found uncertainty. Delicately picking up her skirts, she stepped over the remains of her guards, Placida left her hiding place. She refuse to cower any longer, there was no point in it. Lifting her exquisite chin and flipping back la heavy mass of hair, she strode through the remains of the Royal Palace with all the dignity, poise, and haughtiness expected of the princess of Rome.

The palace, her bustling, sprawling home that had always been filling with guards and dignitaries, servants and politicians, seemed eerily quite to her. It sent clammy shivers through her body, and as if the very thought provoked it, Placida shivered. Suddenly she regretted her bold decision, her steps into the main hall of the Palace faltered. Turning, the princess locked eyes with the only soul there and halted. Her stance was perfectly still, paused in the flow of time like a deer freezing in it's hunters eyes. Not a muscled moved in Placida not even her heart it seemed.

 

[Hector]

A smile ran across his lips when he saw Placida, a bit barbaric as he was born, a bit hesitant to witness Gala Placida, a bit vigilant to the war and a bit gentle that was Ataulf that very moment. “Keep your hands off her….” He screamed to one of his colleague who stormed close to the princess, listening but yet ignoring the warning, he dared to touch Gala Placida. Ataulf was a proud warrior, how could he overlook that?

“I said keep your hands off her….” Ataulf walked close to that careless colleague and pushed him away from the princess.

“I assure you, you are safe….” Ataulf turn to Placida with a gentle smile…as he stood there he imagined the visage of hers in his thoughts to the reality he just witnessed. He often heard stories about her beauty, stories which said she was the most beautiful girl in Rome. “So it is true….” He shed a grin which rarely meant anything more than his nervousness.

“This way please….” Ataulf himself escorted Placida out from the castle to a waiting carriage but he didn’t care to bid a farewell as he left to finish what was left of Rome.