Author's Note:

Heeey, look at this…I've had this chapter for a good while, and forgot about it…sorry about that, any fans that have still stayed to read on!

But this story is in trouble. I seem to have come to a stand-still, and can't seem to write much more. Please try sending me a message or two with some advice? It'd all be welcome. Onto the story you've been waiting to read…

Chapter 5:

Temptation

For the third time since he'd killed Maximus, Commodus now sat in a private chamber, busts of all the previous great Caesar's surrounding him. For now, he sat on the floor, knees tucked to his chest and elbows resting on them. His face was buried in his hands in a mixture of emotions: confusion, depression, anger, and a few others brought on by the rejection of seemingly everyone he ever loved.

Sobs wracked his body again. Again…and again…and again. This was the only place he'd ever allow himself to cry. No one but him was allowed into it, and so no one would be able to see or here his weakness. Yet sometimes he wondered. The sounds of his cries echoed off the walls so loudly, it was a mystery to him how no one heard it. But with this thought always came another: maybe they just didn't say anything.

And for some reason, this angered him. He didn't know why, he just knew that for some reason, the thought that they heard him, but said nothing, brought on rage. Why did they offer no condolence? He did not want it, but it would have made him feel better if they'd at least try. But no, everyone pushed him away. Everyone.

He turned his reddened gaze towards the bust of his father: the one that sat in the middle of all the others and stared him down. The white, pure structure stood as a memory of all his father did. It was much like the older man: pure. Or so it seemed. He'd made many mistakes, that tyrant. But no one cared…it was because he was a 'great ruler'. Unlike himself; or so everyone else continued to think. He'd never fill his father's footprints, never.

Commodus rose to his feet, starting to walk towards the head, when he froze. No. he thought to himself, and leaned back against the wall. He threw his head back and let it rest there, holding in the scream he so desperately wanted to let loose. The recurring thought hit him once more: Why was this happening?

Now he decided to speak, if not to the bust of his father, to himself. He was crazy for doing this, he knew…but talking to this bust made him feel like he was talking to his father, which led to his feeling a bit better about the situation.

"Why, father?" He stared at the blank eyes that watched him, his voice quivering with the tears that once more threatened to spill down his cheeks. "Why have you cursed me so?"

He could almost picture his father trying to comfort him, unsuccessful as he'd always been. It was not me, Commodus; you'd brought it on yourself for the murder of many. But you can redeem yourself.

"But why?" He made his way in long strides towards the marble head. "Why this curse? Why must everyone I love reject me?"

"Take a look at your past actions, my son. Try and see why they've rejected you. There is a way to fix this; you must find it for yourself." He could imagine it all.

"Why can't you be here to tell me everything's all right!" Commodus cried to the ceiling, falling to his knees as he'd done so many times in this very room. He fell forward, sobbing into the floor through his arms. "Why couldn't you just accept me as a son, and love me as you did Maximus…" his rival's name came as a whisper, and he could not bear to speak it any louder.

After several more minutes of crying and trying to calm himself, Commodus again rose to his feet, staring down the head. He withdrew a dagger, pressing it to the left side of his throat, where blood ran through a massive vein in his neck.

"Maybe I should just paint you with my blood and end this all now. Lucius would lead them all well." He spoke what he knew. A few moments passed, and Commodus drew a breath, the pressure of the blade growing on his neck. Don't be weak. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears begin to build up once again. He broke down, throwing the dagger to the ground in front of the bust. It hit the ground with a metallic clatter, and before the sound had the chance to echo through the walls, Commodus had disappeared up the steps once more.