Lucilla stumbled back several paces as Commodus bore down on her, her steps faltering on the polished floor as she strove to stay out of reach of the mad monster that her brother had become.
In the moments that had passed since he had spoken, his expression had run through a series of incredible transformations; wrenching pain, twisting to a look of black rage. Hatred. Fear slipped in as only the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like that of a lost child, with frustration etched around all else; the sanded abrasions on his face were beading with blood again, distorting the image to near-hideous proportions. But underlying all that, there was always a strained mask of juvenile anguish. His strides lengthened and he advanced on his sister, his eyes fixed on hers.
"Commodus, please. Stop."
"You lied to me," he repeated, unheeding of her pleas. "You told me you loved me, but you never did. You just loved Maximus!" His face darkened in rage again as he drew nearer to Lucilla. "Maximus the merciful. Maximus the slave." His voice broke to a hoarse whisper and he finally stopped, though Lucilla retreated a few more steps, pressing against the wall before pausing in her backstepping, as well.
// The savior of Rome. And who said that? //
Commodus straightened, his face blank once more. "I warned you once already." He took one more step forward, and she, left with nowhere to go, simply stared at him. "Lucius will have to d--"
He was cut off as the topic of his words walked solemnly into the corridor, closely followed by Quintus. The Praetorian's dispassionate gaze fell to Commodus, before dropping down to Lucius and up again to Lucilla. "My lady, Lucius has been looking for you and his uncle..."
Lucius stepped forward to his mother's side, looking speculatively up at Commodus before noting matter-of-factly, "Uncle, your face is still bleeding. Maybe you should go see the surgeon." When no one responded to his suggestion, he spoke up again. "Is there something wrong, uncle?" A slight frown crossed his face, and still, Commodus failed to answer.
Lucilla struggled to put on a brave face for her son. She knelt, hugging him tightly before placing one hand on his shoulder and halfway turning back the way he'd come from. "Lucius, your uncle is very tired from the fight. Why don't you go ask one of the servants to bring up a few dogs? If you find one that you like, I'll let you keep him as a pet," she urged him to leave.
// You love your son. You are strong for him. //
"Yes, Mother." Lucius turned and left, still trailed by Quintus. As soon as they were out of sight, Commodus turned to Lucilla, gaze burning darkly, and stormed off down the corridor in the opposite direction that Lucius had went in.
She slowly went to her own room, sinking into the scant comfort her luxurious bed provided and wept, soft silks and pillows muffling and drying her tears.
And she slept, dreams shattered by visions of Lucius dying at his uncle's hands.
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In the moments that had passed since he had spoken, his expression had run through a series of incredible transformations; wrenching pain, twisting to a look of black rage. Hatred. Fear slipped in as only the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like that of a lost child, with frustration etched around all else; the sanded abrasions on his face were beading with blood again, distorting the image to near-hideous proportions. But underlying all that, there was always a strained mask of juvenile anguish. His strides lengthened and he advanced on his sister, his eyes fixed on hers.
"Commodus, please. Stop."
"You lied to me," he repeated, unheeding of her pleas. "You told me you loved me, but you never did. You just loved Maximus!" His face darkened in rage again as he drew nearer to Lucilla. "Maximus the merciful. Maximus the slave." His voice broke to a hoarse whisper and he finally stopped, though Lucilla retreated a few more steps, pressing against the wall before pausing in her backstepping, as well.
// The savior of Rome. And who said that? //
Commodus straightened, his face blank once more. "I warned you once already." He took one more step forward, and she, left with nowhere to go, simply stared at him. "Lucius will have to d--"
He was cut off as the topic of his words walked solemnly into the corridor, closely followed by Quintus. The Praetorian's dispassionate gaze fell to Commodus, before dropping down to Lucius and up again to Lucilla. "My lady, Lucius has been looking for you and his uncle..."
Lucius stepped forward to his mother's side, looking speculatively up at Commodus before noting matter-of-factly, "Uncle, your face is still bleeding. Maybe you should go see the surgeon." When no one responded to his suggestion, he spoke up again. "Is there something wrong, uncle?" A slight frown crossed his face, and still, Commodus failed to answer.
Lucilla struggled to put on a brave face for her son. She knelt, hugging him tightly before placing one hand on his shoulder and halfway turning back the way he'd come from. "Lucius, your uncle is very tired from the fight. Why don't you go ask one of the servants to bring up a few dogs? If you find one that you like, I'll let you keep him as a pet," she urged him to leave.
// You love your son. You are strong for him. //
"Yes, Mother." Lucius turned and left, still trailed by Quintus. As soon as they were out of sight, Commodus turned to Lucilla, gaze burning darkly, and stormed off down the corridor in the opposite direction that Lucius had went in.
She slowly went to her own room, sinking into the scant comfort her luxurious bed provided and wept, soft silks and pillows muffling and drying her tears.
And she slept, dreams shattered by visions of Lucius dying at his uncle's hands.
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