He knew the news before it was delivered to him that bizarrely cold night. As he heard his sister's footsteps, Commodus attempted to ignore their progression towards his bed chamber as he sat tensely upon the edge of his bed, his hands already kneading into the rich purple and gold silk of his bedspread.
"Commodus? Are you there?"
He heard a somewhat cautious voice call across the vast space of the hallway; it echoed against the stone walls and sent a shrill tingle down his spine. He ignored Lucilla's call, turning his gaze over to the pale lilac curtains fluttering in the sharp, cool wind that drifted in from across the nearby balcony. He had hoped his suspicions had been unfounded; he'd desperately needed them to be. Commodus knew all too well of his tendency to exaggerate and distort the truth at the slightest cue. But no, he'd seen the truth that night, in all its loathsome saccharinity. He'd watched through the doorway of his sister's chambers, the door left slightly ajar as always (perhaps she'd wanted him to see?), Commodus had watched as Lucilla lay with Verus, the fool she had chosen over him, watched as he placed a vile, brutish hand over his sister's belly.
Verus was the worst sort of man Lucilla could have possibly chosen for a husband, a sickly combination of the intellectual and the supposed brave warrior combined. Commodus disliked him for this excess of so called virtuous qualities alone, but what he truly hated Verus for was his effect upon Lucilla. She was so taken with him, her usually hardened gaze seemed to melt the moment she looked upon him, an uncharacteristic softness came about her as she laid her hands upon him, as she kissed him, ran her hands through his soft golden hair with a wonder akin to embracing a god in the flesh. Commodus recalled the frequent crushing weight against his chest he'd experienced at witnessing the two together, the lump that rose in his throat and the welling of reluctant tears in his eyes. This man was not destined for Lucilla; he was destined for a gory death on the battlefield, the death of a fool. Why couldn't Lucilla see any of this? Commodus had asked himself this night after night, why couldn't Lucilla see that her true destiny lay with him? He loved her more than anyone in this life or the next could ever love someone.
"Commodus," Lucilla began, appearing at last in the doorway.
For a moment, Commodus wished she would leave before delivering the crushing yet obvious news. He felt his jaw clench so hard his teeth ground together like chalk stones, and his fingernails stung as he dug them further into the luxurious bedspread. And then he glanced upward, and a look of pained neutrality assembled.
"Hello Lucilla."
"Didn't you hear me calling you, brother?" Lucilla's smile was hesitant, but clear.
"I'm sorry, the night air is quite distracting, I suppose." Commodus muttered, gesturing across towards the balcony, the lilac curtains fluttering as the night air howled through them.
"Oh…" Lucilla began, her gaze turning to the few dimming lights of the candles and torch lamps spread across Commodus' chambers. "Do you wish for me to light some more candles for you, brother?" She continued, now noticeably shaking as she hurried towards an extinguished stand, "I know how the dark frightens you—"
"Why don't you just tell me the news, sister." Commodus cut in, bluntly.
"I—what do you mean, brother?"
"You're with child, are you not?" He spat, bitterly. "With him."
Lucilla stood by the extinguished flame- stunned, her mouth slightly agape as she looked back at her brother with an obvious fear that had begun to make him hate himself further. Why is she afraid of me? She shouldn't fear me, she should love me.
"Yes." Lucilla began, after a hesitant pause. "Yes, brother, I am."
"Well," Commodus began, "this certainly calls for a celebration, wouldn't you say?" His face marked with a look of uncharacteristic joy as he rose, walking over to the nightstand and pouring two goblets of wine. He walked over to Lucilla, who stood trembling before him.
"A drink, to your child."
Commodus smiled, handing a glass to Lucilla as he placed a hand against her belly. Lucilla gasped, and then did her best to pretend she hadn't. Her stomach had already begun to swell with Verus' offspring, he could feel it as he lay his hand upon her. It made him feel sick. He swallowed the wine he had just taken back quickly, following it with another generous swig. He drew his hands away from her and felt another sharp pain in his chest and a lump beginning to form in his throat as he did so.
Verus, you bastard. You've ruined her, tainted her forever.
"Commodus, please be happy for me." Lucilla began, her hands reaching for her brother's before he could fully withdraw them.
"You know I can't." He muttered, his voice wavering before the inevitable tears began to roll down his cheeks slowly. "Lucilla, I love you."
"Shhh…brother," Lucilla's expression softened, as she brought his wretched, trembling hands back to her pregnant belly and held them there for a moment. "Love me as a sister, Commodus. Love Verus as a brother, and be a loving uncle to our child." She leaned in, planting a kiss on her brother's forehead.
Commodus felt himself lean into Lucilla at that moment, sobbing somewhat indignantly into her shoulder. Our child. Our child. She embraced him, but not in the way he desired.
"One day you'll be Emperor, Commodus. And on that day, you'll forget all about me. You'll find someone you truly love." Lucilla whispered, running her hands through her brother's hair as he whimpered softly into her chest, like a frightened child, clutching at her dress as he had the bedspread earlier. She knew nothing she'd told him was really true. From a young age, Lucilla had learnt to both fear and pity her poor, mad sibling. He truly was insane, and for that, she felt a great sorrow. His vague attempts at logic and kindness were somewhat heartbreaking. He simply did not understand.
That night, Lucilla lit all the candles in her brother's bed chamber, even staying with him as he drifted off into what was undoubtedly a disturbed and traumatic sleep. Once her brother had finally settled into whatever well deserved abyss he was to endure for the night, Lucilla retired to her own room, and to Verus.
It was as Lucilla blew out the last candle in her room that night that she first felt crippled with the insidious notion that the child she carried within her was in great danger, and would remain to be so until her brother was no longer living.