Commodus was not always bitter. In fact, he used to be one of the kindest souls that Rome ever knew. He loved deeply once, laughed as if there was no worry in all the world. His tongue was sweet and tender, not cold and harsh. This is the story of Commodus and Augusta, and their doomed love that would change him forever.

Chapter Four

Dearest Augusta,

You must believe all that I tell you, for I have no other way of wording it. My father, Marcus Aurelius, doesn't accept you as my bride, nor will he ever. If I bring you to the palace at Rome, my family will only be hostile to you, and I do not want that. We must never see each other again. My father has declared further action if I am to ever meet you in the future. He may even hurt you, and will try to break us apart. But that is not possible. When I ponder about the life we could have spent together, my heart suffers an ache for which there is no cure. I once promised that I would love you and be beside you, if I were to withstand the fires of hell. Yet, fate has forced me to lie to you and contradict myself. I am sorry. I am sorry for everything. If fate had been kinder, I would have been born into a different caste, maybe, but even so, I thank Venus every day for gifting me with such a beauty as you. I am honored to have known you and loved you- as I do and always will. Please keep the amber ring- it was my mother's, and I have given it to you as a token of my endless faith in you, my one and only. You are bound to me, and I to you, and I shall never forget the generosity that you have shown me. Although I have broken all promises, I am keeping one- that I will always protect you. And this last stance, of almost rejecting our union, I'm afraid, is the final piece of protection I can offer. Perhaps, one day, many years after our parting, you will find another man to bring you much happiness.

You are always in my prayers.

Love,

Commodus

Commodus was close to crumpling the note in his hand. It was not enough. It was a rash note, written in the hours of anguish the night before. He hadn't slept at all, reciting this letter over and over again to himself, so that Augusta would understand…and hopefully forgive him. For all the lies and deception that he was responsible for.

Yet, he didn't understand his circumstances himself. Still, he had doubts as to if he was doing the right thing or not; he had weighed the consequences numerous times last night- exactly what he would be losing. Augusta. After hours of deep pondering, he couldn't perceive a life without her even if he forced himself to, because that would be the equivalent of losing his own self. But this would be saving her in the long run, wouldn't it? He would be saving her from future treachery, agony, pain.

But what if she misunderstands? What if she thinks that I'm doing this only for myself?

Commodus anxiously tugged at his animal skin tunic. He was expecting Augusta to turn up soon. He was in the meadows again. The prince treated every vision of the natural surroundings as if it would be the last time he would ever see them again, and he nearly choked trying to keep his face straight. He gasped uneasily, slowly, for fresh air. Waiting very patiently, he didn't notice the paper pricking his hand.

"My goddess." Commodus crooned, "Do you love me?"

Augusta was alarmed by his sternness. "Yes, of course." She answered, slightly worried herself. "Tell me what is wrong, Commodus." She turned his face towards her, for he was looking away at the moment.

"I love you. Even that is not enough, you are my reason for life. You mean the world to me, in all its entirety and grandeur. Will you still love me, Augusta, if I were to not see you ever again?"

When Augusta did not answer, Commodus continued,

"If I was forbidden to see you, if our marriage and union wouldn't be acknowledged by anyone- not even my father- would you still love me? Please, Augusta…" Commodus pleaded with all of his might, grabbing a hold of her hand as she turned from him.

"Don't turn from me. I need for you to understand. This is probably harder for me than it is for you. My father- he pledged that he would break us apart if I were to keep seeing you. If you come to Rome, you will not be welcomed, and Augusta, you know that I wish happiness for you! You will not be happy with me anymore! And I am sorry, a thousand times, for I wanted so much to bring you happiness…"

"You lied to me."

These words froze his blood. What have I done!

"Augusta, please."

"Stop it, Commodus." Augusta was slipping right through his fingers, and he couldn't keep it from happening. His insides tore, and he felt extremely sick.

But then, almost beyond his control and placid temperament, a demon was born.

"All right, then. I suppose if you really must know the truth, it wouldn't do any good to hide it much longer. Yes, I have lied to you, and I'm not afraid to admit it! All the times I caressed you, comforted you, I never meant it." He hissed raucously.

Augusta was backing away from him completely now, but remained speechless. If she felt any sting from his words, she didn't show it. But her once luminous eyes had lost their shine. It finally began to sink in, that he had gone further than pain, than agony, than mere sorrow. She looked as if she had suffered several years of toil- she was bitter, indifferent, nonchalant. As she walked back, she didn't look back.

Commodus, stupefied by his own actions, helplessly whimpered. No one would comfort him now. The letter was a pile of shreds below his feet. Some things he just couldn't fix. He had gone too far, and she would never know the truth.