You and Marcus Acacius had been married, but it was an arranged union. He was a Roman general, and you were the sister of Emperors Geta and Caracalla.The general grew to adore you..but you didn’t feel the same way,you didn’t like the idea of being married to a general who was made for war…you thought he would be too emotionless…he tried relentlessly..tried to hold you at night but you would just pull away…

You were young, while he was nearly fifty.You and the general were expected of Rome to have a child,if you didn’t it would be frowned upon and you both would have lost much respect from the Romans..After many attempts, you finally conceived. Nine months later, you gave birth to a healthy baby girl,which overtime oddly made you see Acacius in a new way,not love…but there was definitely something there that could potentially grow into love…

Now, in your chambers, the infant lay peacefully in her crib beside your bed. You sat at your vanity, dressed in a white nightgown with a warm blue robe draped over your shoulders, your hair pinned up loosely.

The door opened quietly. Marcus entered, his gaze settling first on the crib before shifting to you.He approached, reaching out to brush a few stray strands from your collarbone.

His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. “How are you feeling?"