The night had fully settled in..

  And the surrounding darkness seemed to swallow everything in its path, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

  The usual rain of the season was absent tonight.

  Still, the air remained damp and cold.

  Plancina gazed into her speculum.

  Her reflection staring back from the polished bronze surface, looks calm and composed—unusually so, for a wife whose husband was now imprisoned.

  Nearby, an array of cosmetics lay scattered across the table—opened, used, and left unattended.

  As if she could not care less about whether they were cleaned away or left to waste.

  A typical behavior for a woman of her caliber.

  She's a noble.

  Her fingers absently ran through her dark hair, the motion was habitual, her thoughts drifting far away from the present.

  Four beeswax candles flickered in the room, their warm glow dancing against the cold night air.

  A wasteful act.

  The fire illuminated the smooth, rounded surface of the speculum, casting shadows that deepened the hollows of her pale face.

  The soft flicker of the flames created sharp shadows beneath her high cheekbones.

  It outlined the delicate curve of her neck, where her pulse fluttered, faint but constant.

  She looked thinner in her dark stola than usual—though not from any physical ailment.

  The weight of her thoughts pressed heavily upon her, not allowing her the ease of her usual grace.

  Her shoulders were drawn inward, as though burdened by the very guilt that gnawed at her.

  But still, she maintained the composure of a woman who had mastered her emotions.

  But guilt...?

  No..that was not what consumed her.

  She denied herself, shaking her head a bit.

  No—guilt had never been a friend to her.

  What consumed her now was fear.

  Yes, fear did.

  Fear of being caught.

  Fear of the consequences.

  Fear that Sejanus would no longer turn his gaze toward her, once Plancina's role in this was completed.

  She's not that naive.

  No, never.

  She continues to deny it.

  Yes, she was the one who had poisoned Germanicus in Syria.

  Yes, it had been Sejanus's orders.

  And yes, it had been done out of a thirst for revenge.

  She breathed in the cold air, mixed with the smoke coming from the candles.

  "Whew"

  They said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

  Even though it's been years, decades even...

  But she could still feel it all—how she had loved Germanicus.

  Her very first love, the one who had left an indelible mark upon her heart.

  Even after all this time.

  Plancina can still vividly picture Germanicus's image in her head.

  She closed her eyes.

  His blue eyes—piercing, and tempestuous, like a storm that could consume you with a single glance.

  A look that could melt you, as if he could see straight into your soul. Hah!

  And that knowing glance—always the kind of look that made you think of things... like carnal things. Hnnnng!

  It made her blood stir. Nnnnmm!

  The soft long brown hair, which he would run his hands through when lost in thought.

  His long, strong capable fingers... hah!

  His square jawline, lips full and inviting..., like they were meant to be kissed... hah!

  It made her want to sit on his lap, feel the warmth of his body, feel protected by his strong arms... hah!

  She opened her eyes, her gaze a found her reflection in her speculum.

  Emotions swirled in her brown eyes.

  Plancina stopped herself mid-thought, feeling a slight wave of shame for fantasizing about a man who had been dead.

  The ache was deep, but she couldn't stop it.

  How could she?

  She had done everything in her power to win him, to hold onto him.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  To make him see her, feel her... to make him belong to her.

  But no, he wouldn't even look at her!

  She looked at her face in the speculum.

  I'm also beautiful.. her face looks like it's about to cry.

  But no. He had never even looked at her.

  He did not behave as she had hoped.

  Then her face changed to an angry expressions.

  And then, one day, Agrippina—her best friend, her rival—swooped in and stole him from her. That harlot!

  Plancina clenched her jaw, her fingers digging into her hair as memories flooded back.

  She had tried everything.

  She had even spread lies, claiming to be one of his many lovers, though he had none and she was not.

  All in a desperate bid to drive a wedge between him and Agrippina.

  But it hadn't worked.

  No matter how many whispers she fed the palatium corridors, no matter how much she painted herself as the victim, nothing worked.

  Germanicus had been untouchable, unreachable.

  She's never even able to touched even a strand of his hair.

  If it's like that then, she'd rather have him dead than in her arms.

  Yes, it had taken years, but so what?

  Finally, after everything, no one—not even Agrippina—had a grip on Germanicus.

  Not even in death!

  You'll be forever in my memories, darling, she thought, her lips curling into a sad, bittersweet smile as she kissed him goodbye... in her imagination.

  How she imagined to kiss Germanicus like this.

  A hundred? A thousand? No a million times! Hah!

  She moistened her lips and imagined him kissing her passionately.

  His capable fingers is dangerously close to her inner thigh, teasing her.

  She bit her lip.

  Suddenly she can feel a white hot fluid run down her thighs.

  Unnnnnn she moaned.

  Her fingers slowly caressed her inner thigh, a rhythm that matched her unsettled heartbeat.

  She looked one more time in her speculum, and she stared at herself guiltily.

  An act that she always does whenever she fantasizes about him.

  It tasted bitter, but she knew that she could only have him in this way.

  She takes off her gaze in her guilty reflection.

  She tried to think of something else.

  Then she only remembered that she had a husband waiting for her.

  Now, she had another task waiting for her in the dungeon.

  Oh darling, she mused darkly, the smile still playing at the corners of her lips.

  Don't worry, you won't be lonely.

  Then she smiled, sweetly, fondly, almost as if she were remembering him with affection.

  She blew softly on the candle next to the speculum, her breath a soft, delicate exhale.

  The flame trembled for a moment, then snuffed out with a sudden flicker, as though demonstrating how easy it is to snuff out a life.

  The air filled with the warm, comforting scent of beeswax, thick and sweet, lingering in the silence like the memory of a kiss.

  It was the same smell she remembered from that day—the day Germanicus fell.

  The day the future had been altered forever.

  ***********************************

  The night had fully settled.

  Casting a damp, chilly gloom over the lamp-lit corridors of the palatium.

  The usual rain of the season was absent.

  But the air remained heavy with moisture, like a held breath.

  Sejanus walked down the hallway.

  Wearing his tunica militaris, a gladius safely tucked into his belt at his right hip.

  His sandal-clad feet clicking on the cold stone floor.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  The sound echoed off the walls, punctuating the silence.

  That crazy woman, Sejanus thought while he was walking.

  She really did it.

  At first, he had been skeptical.

  Skeptical?

  He'd been downright doubtful.

  How could someone so... ordinary, so fragile-looking, possibly carry out such a delicate task?

  She didn't look like someone who could pull off a murder.

  Mousey, maybe.

  Nervous?

  Yes.

  The way she shifted when he looked at her, the way her fingers twitched.

  Almost as if she might betray herself at any moment—it had all made him hesitate to be honest.

  She wants to pretend she's confident; he knows what's running in her ugly head.

  Now that she's done an exquisite job, she'll think that she's all that.

  Pfft. Pretentious bitch.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  But then, after a few stolen moments of quiet intimacy, whispers that only they could hear.

  And fleeting kisses that left her breathless..

  Sejanus had found himself effortlessly wrapping her around his finger.

  The subtle roll of her waist, the soft surrender of her body, had been all the encouragement he needed.

  And that had been the victory.

  The control. Sejanus chuckled to himself.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  "Just a few soft words, a little brush of the lips, a circling of her waist... and she was mine."

  'So easy.'

  The thought filled him with smug satisfaction, almost like a warm fire crawling through his veins.

  It wasn't just that she was compliant—no, she'd given herself up entirely.

  He had watched her unravel, piece by piece, like a book opening before him, every chapter easier than the last.

  It was almost laughable. So simple.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  "Pfffft!"

  He couldn't help but laugh aloud at the thought, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the corridor.

  The air was cold, the smell of polished stone and dust lingering like a faint perfume.

  He took in a slow breath and smiled to himself, feeling the power of his position settle comfortably in his bones.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  He was Sejanus, a plebeian who had clawed his way to the top, and he was far from done.

  From nothing to this... He had earned it.

  His eyes sharpening, I will never get back to that kind of life.

  Every whispered promise, every gesture, every favor.

  The price had been steep, but nothing in this world came without a cost.

  And soon… his thoughts darkened, but there was no bitterness, only hunger.

  As he turned a corner, the faint scent of burning incense wafted from the throne room.

  Mingling with the musty smell of old stone and the sweet hint of polished marble.

  The air was thick with anticipation, like the moment before a storm broke.

  Soon...

  Should I ask Tiberius to hand me the throne?

  Ha! That doddering fool.

  Sejanus's lips curled into a contemptuous smile.

  He recalled the emperor's terrified face when he'd saved his life all those years ago.

  Since then, he had carefully cultivated Tiberius's trust.

  Manipulating the emperor's fears and insecurities to his advantage.

  Now, Tiberius hung on his every word, seeking Sejanus's counsel and guidance like a puppet on strings.

  Easy... so easy.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  The sound of his steps and heartbeat was the only sound he needed.

  Sejanus sneered to himself, thinking about the twists of fate that had placed Tiberius on the throne.

  He had tried to manipulate Augustus before, but that emperor had been too cunning, too perceptive.

  And Germanicus?

  If he had ascended to the throne, Sejanus's plans would have been far more complicated.

  Germanicus would have been a formidable leader, with a sharp mind and a strong sense of justice.

  But fate had intervened, oh, more like Sejanus had intervened, he smirked.

  And now Sejanus held the reins.

  Then all this, all of this, will be mine.

  He snorted at the absurdity of it, at how easy it had all been.

  He felt a flicker of amusement—he'd joked with himself before, but now... the joke was on everyone else.

  Tiberius was a weak, paranoid old fool, and Sejanus had already mapped out his ascent.

  His eyes gleamed, an intense hunger creeping into his smile as he approached the corridor leading to the throne room.

  The air grew thicker the closer he got, as though the walls themselves were aware of his presence.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  The distant echo of his sandal-clad feet clicking on the cold stone was the only sound in the corridor, almost rhythmic, like the beat of his own heart.

  It's time, he thought.

  His pulse quickened, but there was no excitement—only the calm, assured nature of a predator who knew his prey was already in his grasp.

  His fingers twitched as he whistled softly, the sound a careless note of ease and confidence.

  *phheeeeet*

  The sharp smell of old stone, burning incense from the throne room beyond.

  And the faint scent of dust clung to the air as he moved, the atmosphere heavy with expectation.

  He could feel the weight of the empire pressing down on him, but it didn't feel oppressive—no, it felt... like something he was destined to carry.

  Tiberius would be a fool to deny him.

  Sejanus's smile spread wider as if he were already tasting the sweetness of the power to come.

  A low, self-satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  Hmm.

  The sound was like a cat's purr, a sign of contentment.

  The throne would be his.

  *tick-tock* *tick-tock*

  All of it.

  And when the time came, he would relish in the moment of taking victory.

  A promise of pleasures to come.

  ***********************************

  INDEX:

  speculum - polished bronze surface, used as a mirror for nobles