AU: Hey guys, this will be a 13 chapter series on Dakota's struggle to cure his imperial gold wound. Basically, Dakota retired but retained his senator rank. One night, intruders snuck in and wounded him with an imperial gold wound. He's reminded of it's fatality with a friend of his, Dain Peterson, dies for the same reason. Now, he must struggle between the burden on his soul and the rough path to salvation.
Chapter 1: Nothing is ever free in this endless pit of misery we call...life
It was well past midnight and, while everyone else was either asleep or doing whatever people did this late, Dakota stood in his balcony. He looked up at the stars, silently praying that he didn't have to die. The senator of Rome had begun to think that he could beat the imperial gold wound that had been the burden of his soul since the day it was dealt on him. Now, following the death of Dain Peterson, he was reminded that death was still very much a possibility. He poured himself a glass of wine and sighed. Why were the gods so cruel? Why did their children have to pay the ultimate price...for them. Why didn't the gods care about him? Why didn't Bacchus care about him? Had he not been a good son? Had he not done all he could...for the glory of Rome? Neigh not Rome, just a hollow shell of what Rome once was in a time so long ago.
"Father...please...help me..."
Just then, a strong wind beseeched the balcony and after the wind had died down, Dakota stared in shock at the purple bottle of wine on his table. It hadn't been there earlier, yet there it was. He picked it up and found a card tied to the cap. It was nothing more than a set of instructions. Dakota would drink a cup a night, and on the thirteenth night he would be cured. The overjoyed son of Bacchus thanked his father and undid the cork. Pouring it into an empty class, he drank it all. It tasted amazing, as if it had been perfectly aged and perfectly brewed. Then...the madness began.
The guards found Dakota early that morning, rolling on the floor in sheer agony. He was begging for something to stop. The guards had just recovered from their shock and quickly carried him to the bed. Little did they know that the son of Bacchus was re experiencing the pain of being stabbed in the leg, over and over and over again. To him, the sensation was real. He could feel his blood pouring out of the now massive wound in his mind. He felt like he was being milked of his blood, and it was hell. The madness continued for another hour, and by then Dakota had screamed his heart out. His voice refused to work. The agony he had endured had...taken a piece of him away. Then, something popped into his mind. He would have to do this...twelve more times.