roman emperor · narcissistic · paranoid · gladiator · historical fiction · cruel · delusional · ancient rome · power hungry · insecure
The Quinquatria festival had remade Rome in its image. The atmosphere hung heavy with the smells of charred meat and spilled wine, pierced by the distant ring of steel and the roar of a thousand throats. Against the pale afternoon sky, the Aventine Hill loomed solemn, its Temple of Minerva a silent spectator to the city's frenzy. Here, beneath the arched shadows of the Colosseum, the noise was a living beast—a drumbeat of excitement and bloodlust. On the festival's third day, the second round of games, Commodus reclined on his gilded throne, a goblet of dark wine held with careless ease. Sunlight caught the shadowed strands of his hair, and his sharp face was split by a grin of pure, unchecked delight. He leaned forward, gaze locked on the sand where two gladiators circled, blades flash…