Y/N: "I Just Wanna Go On Record And Say That Peter Is The Slut Of The Avengers."

letters across time (one-shot)

summary: after having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

pairing: marcus acacius x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending), strangers-to-lovers trope (?), mutual pining, mentions of war and death, sorry - i've got a lack of historical ancient roman knowledge but trying my best lol, deviation from the film (lucilla dies before marcus - sorry, wanted marcus to be single / widowed which only fuels his hatred for the emperors), reader has a nickname (rose), excuse my poor attempt at speaking italian, no use of y/n. word count: 9.4k a/n: so i'm really stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, but i've been obsessed with marcus a since gladiator 2 came out (and honestly who else hasn't lol). also a bit of a tidbit - my first ever tattoo is with the latin saying ad maiora so i had to fit it into this story hehe. if the characterization seems off or if the historical aspect of ancient rome / dialogue is inaccurate, please bear with me - it's my first ever marcus a fic and first time writing in that time period... anyway, huge thank you to @jolapeno for hosting this "dear-uary" challenge <3. my epistolary is letters and my prompt is here. hope you all enjoyed this!

Finally settled in, you walk out to your small balcony and take a seat. It overlooks the famous Colosseum and despite the sounds of chatter coming from nearby, you have to wonder how this place looked centuries ago. Rome had always been a place you wanted to visit, but never did you think that you’d move here. 

You don’t speak the language (yet), and the apartment you moved into was surprisingly affordable given the location. An elderly couple owns the small building and when you had approached them about a vacant apartment listing, they were more than eager to have you move in. It wasn’t at all luxurious–the apartment building. It was very dated, remnants of ancient Rome decorated throughout the building. It almost felt like you were transported back to that time period, given the decoration that filled not only your apartment but the entire building itself. 

The couple could speak a little English, asking plenty of questions that a usual landlord wouldn’t ask. 

American? Yes, you answered.

Married? No, you replied with a heavy sigh–memories of your last relationship flickering in your mind. 

A beautiful girl like you, not married? No, you repeated–now trying to end the conversation in hopes that you don’t have to go into detail why you uprooted your entire life into one suitcase. 

You had noticed the way the older woman’s smile drops, can see her eyes softening at the sight of you. It’s almost like she knows, like she can understand why you’re here. She’s the first one to say that you got the apartment–the brief meeting lasting only twenty minutes. 

It’s yours, she said. 

You had told them you weren’t sure you could afford it, given how close it was to the Colosseum and knowing that it was one of the hottest tourist spots. There’s a lot of foot traffic that surrounds this area and you’d be lucky to have found an apartment this fast. 

Whatever you can pay, the husband had chimed in. We will accept.

Then, the woman had touched your arm–gentle, light, almost feather-like and you could have sworn the warmth radiated throughout your entire body. This place, this couple–it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

You nodded in agreement and you shook hands with the husband before the woman hugged you gently. 

And now, sitting in your new apartment, this didn’t feel real. You still feel like you’re running, like you’re looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the sun begins to set, the sky soon turns a shade of orange and you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

A flood of relief washes over you.

You’re safe. 

This is your fresh start. 

And you remember what the woman had told you when they had given you the keys to your new apartment: Ad Maiora, cara mia, she whispered, eyes staring into your own. A fleeting gaze of understanding. You asked her what that meant and she smiled, patted your hand and answered, Towards greater things, my dear. 

After finding luck with your apartment, you doubt that your luck would continue. But now, a month later, you have a steady job at a coffee shop that’s within walking distance and the elderly couple–Giovanni and Antonia–have begun teaching you Italian. Most nights, they invite you to their apartment for dinner where they ask you about your day along with a detailed lesson in learning Italian. Some nights, though, they ask you to teach them English–living so close to a famous tourist area, they encounter plenty of Americans and they believe it’d be good for business if they learned how to speak the language. 

Rome starts to feel more like home as the days pass. Giovanni and Antonia have welcomed you with such warmth that they soon find out the reason for you moving here. You told them you left America for a fresh start–having just gotten out of a very toxic relationship and a very meaningless job. You wanted more for yourself and you knew that staying in America was only going to keep you complacent, stagnant. 

Antonia had given you a hug at the end of that night–a hug that you had gotten so used to receiving, a hug that you found so much comfort in. They reminded you so much of your grandparents that had raised you–those were the only good memories that you dreamt of, a time where you could be a young girl again, running around in your grandparents’ home. 

You feel much freer, more at ease, safe now that you feel fully settled in here. And one day after work, you walk up the two flights of stairs to your apartment and unlock your door. There’s an envelope on the hardwood floor–almost like someone had slipped it underneath your door. There’s no writing on it, no name addressed on it, but you pick it up anyway and notice that it isn’t sealed. You set it on your small rounded table and walk to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine–this is routine for nights when you don’t have dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. 

You take a quick sip of your red wine and then move to your bedroom, removing your clothes to change into much more comfortable clothing–shorts and an oversized crewneck, your hair now pulled into a messy bun. You’re barefoot when you walk back into the kitchen to retrieve your wine glass. As you pass the rounded dining table, you notice the envelope. Someone must have had to slide it underneath your door on purpose, right? 

You take the envelope and then walk out to your balcony, sitting on one of the seats as you set the glass on the small table. Slowly, you pull the letter out of the envelope and open it, the writing in neat cursive. You shouldn’t be reading it, especially if this was meant for someone else. 

Confused but intrigued, you continue to read. 

Lucilla died today. I was not there to bid her goodbye. I had given her a promise–that this campaign will be my last. All of Numidia–for the glory of Rome… all for nothing. Writing this journal entry surely is treacherous–I could be punished for it, but what is the point of it all? This is not Rome. This is not the Rome I had promised to fight for.  Lucilla–I am sorry, my lady. I will love you for the rest of my days and cannot wait until we meet again. Your blue eyes, your smile… Your laugh and your voice–I will carry it with me, my love. I will speak with the Senate. I will–I will do what is right, what must be done.  For you. For Rome.  Acacius

You’re unsure of what you just read. Lucilla. Numidia. Acacius. Rome. It almost seems like this is a journal entry–the feel of the paper, the cursive writing. Maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but you’re curious. Something inside you tells you to write back–almost like a tug, a pull that you feel in the pit of your stomach. So, you grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing–not in cursive, though.

Dear Acacius,  I’m so very sorry for your loss. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to make things better and I’m not even sure if time helps either… Shit happens. It sucks, and I want to say that life goes on, but it doesn’t. At least not for the person who lives.  I lost my grandparents when I was eighteen–it crushed my entire world and set me on a path that I’m still trying to fix. I know this isn’t the same as losing a wife or a partner and I’m not even sure if I’m making any sense. I just–I know what loss feels like and it fucking sucks.  Anyway, I think this might have been sent to me by accident and I’m sorry that I opened it and read it. It wasn’t my intention. So, I’m just gonna send it back to you–somehow–but… I hope things get better for you, Acacius (really cool name, by the way!).  Best wishes,  A stranger

You fold your letter and place it into the envelope with Acacius’s original piece of paper. You then close the envelope, grab your glass of wine and walk back into your apartment, setting the envelope onto your dining table so that it’s visible for you tomorrow morning to ask Antonia about. 

The following morning after getting ready for work, you notice that the envelope is gone. You furrow a brow in confusion, beginning to turn over your entire apartment to find the envelope–contents of your letter along with Acacius’s journal entry inside of it. When you realize that you’re late for work, you decide to call in sick and quickly leave your apartment to descend the stairs to speak with Antonia. 

She’s in the community garden, tending to the roses and when she sees you, a bright grin lines her lips. She stands and pulls you into a hug without hesitation. 

“Cara mia, no work today?” 

You shake your head and ask, “Antonia, there was an envelope in my apartment last night. Do you know who might have slid it under my door?” 

“Envelope?” she shakes her head, confusion written across her features. “Like a letter?” 

“Well, not really?” you answer. “It seemed like a journal entry. They talked about Lucilla, about Numidia–”

“Lucilla? My dear, she was the daughter of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”

“Wait, that was centuries ago.” 

Antonia nods. “And Numidia,” she sighs. “So very tragic.”

“Antonia, who’s Acacius?” 

“General Acacius?”

“G–General?”

“Cara mia, cosa sta succedendo?” asks Antonia. My dear, what’s going on?

You shake your head. “Nothing. Um, I’ll have to skip tonight’s dinner with you and Giovanni. Mi dispiace.” 

“Cara mia–”

You give her a hug and walk back inside your apartment, determined to find out more about Acacius. 

Marcus returns to his chambers, distraught and overcome with grief. His bed–once shared with Lucilla–now remains cold and empty. He can’t bring himself to lie in bed, yearning for his wife who is no longer alive. After Numidia, he was more than ready to return home–returning home meant returning to Lucilla, but when news of her death finally reached him, he no longer found the need to go back to Rome, despite the emperors’ orders. 

But Marcus was a man of honor. He would ask Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla for a period of rest from war, to fully grieve the loss of Lucilla. He can’t even think about attending the emperors’ ceremony that’s dedicated to his success in Numidia–how can he when Lucilla is no longer here? 

He hears a knock on the door and he walks–barefoot–to open it. He sees a chambermaid on the other side–she has a look of sympathy across her features with a hint of fear. 

“G–General,” she mutters. “There is a letter for you.” 

“A letter?” he asks, confused.

She nods and extends her hand. Marcus takes the envelope from her and gives her a single nod, dismissing her silently. She turns on her heel and Marcus shuts the door, walking towards the candle that illuminates a small table. He takes a seat, pours himself a cup of wine before he begins to open it. He holds two pieces of a paper–one he’s familiar with and when he opens it, he realizes it’s the journal entry that he had written–and the other, much more smooth, less texture, more white in color. When he opens it, his eyes widen at the writing–all capitalized, not written in cursive. 

He reads the first line and realizes that this is a letter to him. He reads it with interest, eyes still slightly widened at the choice of words that he’s not used to. 

Shit sucks. 

Cool name.

It’s signed A Stranger and he isn’t sure how his journal entry even got into the hands of someone else. He doesn’t have any information aside from the fact that your writing is unusual and the words you use are out of the ordinary. 

But, he finds comfort in your letter. He’s known loss before–plenty of his men understand what he’s going through–but somehow talking to a stranger who doesn’t truly know who he is provides a sense of relief. He doesn’t have to be General Acacius in his response to you–he can just be Marcus. 

So, he grabs a piece of paper and his quill and begins writing to you. 

Dear Stranger,  Thank you for returning my journal entry. I am not sure how that fell into your hands and it is quite alright that you read it. However, for some reason, I feel some relief knowing that I am not alone. Maybe my journal entry was meant to find you… Do you believe in that? In fate?  Anyway, I am sorry for your loss as well. Loss is… Well, it is a part of life but that does not mean that it is pleasant either. I am sure the path that you are on now will lead you to greater things. There is a saying–if you are familiar–Ad Maiora. It means towards greater things.  Also, what do you mean by ‘cool name’? It is quite interesting that my name is associated with some kind of temperature… unless I am misunderstanding.  In any case, you may call me Marcus. If you are comfortable, may I ask what your name is?  I hope this letter finds you well, stranger. And I hope I get to talk to you again.  Best wishes,  Marcus

He re-reads his letter, furrows a brow and sighs. It sounds desperate–a plea to get you to talk to him again because he feels less alone when he’s writing to you. He isn’t sure how this letter will get to you, but he keeps his journal entry and your letter and places his reply back into the envelope. 

Marcus spends the better part of his night drinking, having ended up falling asleep at his desk and the envelope magically disappearing by the time he awakes the following morning. 

You awake the following morning, having fallen asleep on your couch with your laptop and notebook scattered on the coffee table. You had spent the entire night researching Acacius. Antonia was right–Marcus Acacius was a General for the Roman empire, serving under the rule of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. Empress Lucilla was his wife, but had died while he was on his way back from Numidia. But all of this–it happened centuries ago. 211 AD. And Acacius ended up dying–right in the center of the Colosseum after he was forced to fight in the arena after the emperors found out his plan of treachery. 

There’s no way that the person you had written to the other day was the same man you had researched–he was dead. Surely, you can’t be writing to someone from a different time period and to someone who is no longer alive. Right? 

You sit up from your couch and notice the same envelope magically resting on your coffee table. Quickly, you grab it and pull the letter out. Same paper, same writing. 

It’s from Acacius. 

You read it quickly, a small smile lining your lips and a quiet giggle escaping you. You feel a wave of emotion when you read his reply; it’s obvious this man is clearly still alive but how could it be possible that you’re communicating with someone who lives in an entirely different time period? And how come the envelope is your only string tying you to him? 

After you finish reading his letter, you grab your notebook and pen and begin writing your reply. 

Dear Marcus,  You can call me Rose. It’s my favorite flower and I grew up helping my grandma with her garden, which was filled with roses.  You’re cute, Marcus. Cool name meaning… You have a nice name. I think that translates the same?  Ironically enough, Ad Maiora is something I’m trying to remind myself when I have tough days. A good friend of mine mentioned it to me when I moved here. It’s been something that keeps me going every day… the hope that I’m moving in the right direction.  And fate… I don’t think I believe in it. We all have free will and everything we do in life is a choice we make… like my choice in getting into a relationship with a really bad man. Would you call that fate?  I like talking to you too… and I feel less alone too. Can I ask a question, by the way? What year is it?  Best wishes,  Rose

You take Marcus’s letter and set it aside, folding your reply and placing it back into the envelope. You’re sure that it’s going to disappear during the night and you hope that you can wake up the next day with a response from Marcus. 

Marcus attends his ceremony, dressed in white and gold as he feigns a look of pride, a forced smile when he’s standing in front of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. It makes his blood boil–the fact that these two young men are parading him around like he’s done something so great, so grand. All he can see is the unnecessary bloodshed, the bodies burning in that pit. All he can feel is the emptiness in his soul–Marcus doesn’t want to be here. 

And not once did they give their condolences over the loss of Lucilla. Marcus asks for a respite from this war, but they don’t grant him that luxury. He has a cut along the side of his neck due to Emperor Geta placing a sharp blade along his skin. As soon as the ceremony is over, Marcus retreats to his chamber where the envelope that disappeared that morning magically appears on his desk. 

Still in his white and gold attire, he quickly opens the envelope and reads your letter. He lets out a breath of relief as he sits down and reads your words over and over again. It gives him comfort–something he desperately needs right now. 

There’s something in the way your words put him at ease. He still has to put Lucilla to rest and he isn’t looking forward to it–that the next time he sees his wife will be in a coffin. 

He grabs a piece of paper and begins writing to you. 

Dear Rose,  That is a beautiful name and a beautiful flower. There are gardens filled with them here. Now, when I see a rose, I will think of you.  Cute–I have never been called cute before. That is certainly a first, thank you.  I believe in fate, Rose. I believe that everything happens for a reason… But I am sorry to hear that you had to endure a difficult relationship. It pains me to hear that you were mistreated and I surely hope that you are far from him now.  I believe that we have crossed paths for a reason. Maybe we will never know why, but I am surely glad that we did.  You can ask me any question you like and I will be more than happy to answer. It is 211 AD–do you not know the year? Also, I assume that you live in Rome since these letters are coming rather quickly.  The next few days will be… rather difficult. I am planned to bury my wife and I am not sure if I will be available to reply, but if you send me a response… I will do my best to write to you when I can.  I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to Lucilla. She was an amazing woman. She had to sacrifice a lot in her life–she was very brave, strong, resilient… I should have been there at her bedside. I should have held her hand when she took her last breath…  I failed Lucilla.  What kind of man does that make me?  If you choose to never respond after this letter, I understand. I just–there’s something in the way your words bring me comfort, puts me at ease, gives me a sense of relief… Anyway, I must go now. Until we speak again, Rose.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his letter and puts it back in the envelope, ensuring this time that he passes it along to the chambermaid. 

Later that night, you come home after having spent dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. You’re welcomed with the sight of the envelope sitting neatly on your dining table. You set your things down immediately and grab the envelope, taking the letter out and sitting down on the couch. 

Your heart breaks slowly as you read Marcus’s letter. You can feel his guilt through the words on the page and when he confirms the year he’s living in, it all but crushes you. This is a man that you’re slowly developing a friendship with and you know that it isn’t going to last long. 

As you continue to read his letter, you feel tears sting your eyes. So, you don’t hesitate to begin writing your response back to him. 

Dear Marcus,  With you, I’m starting to believe in fate. Would you believe me if I said the year I live in is 2025? I’m not sure how to explain how we’re able to exchange letters from different time periods, but… here we are. It’s possible. I just don’t have an explanation for it.  I can assure you that I am no longer in a relationship with that man and I am very much far from him. I moved to Rome about a month ago and I love it here. I can see the Colosseum from my balcony.  I’m sorry that the next few days will be difficult. I can’t imagine the pain that you’re feeling–losing the one person you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Lucilla sounded like a great woman, Marcus. I know saying sorry doesn’t change anything, but I don’t know if there’s even anything I can say to make things better.  I’m sure Lucilla knew… I’m sure she knew that you did your best to get to her. I’m sure she knew that you wanted to be there with her…  And you know, maybe you don’t have to say goodbye. The ones we love don’t ever really leave us, do they? We continue living to keep their memory alive.  You didn’t fail, Marcus. Sometimes, things happen out of our control. Not being there for her at the end isn’t a reflection of who you are as a person, or as a husband. I’m willing to bet that if you had it your way, you’d have been there for her. Maybe wherever you were… you wouldn’t have gone if you had a choice.  Finally, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, sorry.  I hope the next few days give you some closure, Marcus, and when you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting.  Best wishes,  Rose 

You take his letter and put it on the pile you’ve collected before you place your reply back into the envelope. You turn your back for a moment to grab a glass of water and when you turn back around, the envelope is gone. 

Marcus awakes that morning to the sight of the envelope. He can’t explain how it just vanishes and reappears out of thin air on his desk. He pulls your letter out of the envelope and reads what you have written. 

2025? Surely, that’s a lie. There is no way he’s exchanging letters with someone centuries into the future. He has to wonder if this is some sort of joke, if maybe the emperors put someone up to this. As he continues reading though, he feels tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over. Your words–it provides a sensation of warmth that blossoms in his chest. He wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s a good man. 

Marcus rereads your last sentence repeatedly, commits it to memory as he begins thinking of what he has to do today. 

I’ll be right here waiting. 

He doesn’t have time at the moment to write you back, so he keeps the envelope and letter separate from each other. He takes one last look at your letter before he leaves his chamber. 

The next few days, you’re anticipating a response from Marcus. He did warn you that he wouldn’t write back until he’s able, but you still can’t help the disappointment you feel when the envelope doesn’t appear for the next few days. Antonia and Giovanni notice a change in your demeanor since you’ve been receiving the letters–they notice the excitement in your eyes, a much freer spirit, but you tell them it’s because you’re finally feeling more and more comfortable here in Rome. 

You learn more about Marcus through your research and you try to find someone who can explain the phenomenon that you’re experiencing. How is it possible that you’re communicating with a man from a different time period? Sure, there are theories about time travel but that never felt real to you. 

At the end of the week, you’re already getting anxious. It’s been four days since Marcus’s letter. You have to wonder what he’s doing, how he’s doing. You know how his life ends, and you have to wonder what would happen if you told him. That would change so many things, right? It would not only change history, but it would ultimately change the trajectory of how the world is now. 

On the fifth day, Marcus is exhausted. Saying goodbye to Lucilla had only fueled his anger for the emperors. He has a plan in place and he knows what end he will meet if he gets caught, but at this point, he has nothing else to lose. 

After he buries Lucilla, he finds some time to ask around if anyone knew a woman named Rose. When someone would respond with a nod, there’s a flutter of excitement that he feels in the pit of his stomach but he’s left disappointed every time. Every Rose he’s met so far has no idea of the letters and he’s starting to believe that maybe you do live in the future–centuries into the future. It leaves him with an unsettling sensation in his chest, a sad reality that there’s a likely possibility that Marcus will never get to meet you. 

Now, he finally has some time alone. So, Marcus sits at his desk, rereads your letter once more before he takes his usual paper and quill out to begin writing a response to you. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry for the delay in my response. The last five days have been very difficult for me, but every time I saw a rose… I thought of you and it brought me a lot of comfort that I did not realize I needed.  I want to express my gratitude to you, Rose. Your last letter–I kept it close to me at all times during the last few days here. Somehow, knowing that you’re waiting for me helped me get through each day… and knowing that I get to write to you again helped me through the difficult moments I endured. Ad Maiora, I suppose. Towards greater things… and I think that greater thing is you.  I buried Lucilla yesterday. She still looked so beautiful, but she looked… peaceful. She endured a lot of hardship in her life and there is some comfort that I feel knowing she’s no longer in pain. She no longer needs to fight… and I believe you are right. The ones we love do not ever leave us. We keep their memory alive and Lucilla will always hold a special place in my heart.  I must be completely honest with you, Rose. I am the General of the Roman army. I have a lot of blood on my hands… all for the glory of Rome, but you are right. If I had a choice, I would have been by Lucilla’s side from the start. I am conflicted… It is difficult to fight for this version of Rome. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost… all for nothing. I should not be writing this–it is certainly punishable, but I am exhausted, Rose.  If you do live in 2025–which does not seem possible–how does Rome look like then? You say you moved to Rome. Are you happy here? I also tried to look for you. Asked around about you, but I did not get anywhere. There isn’t anyone by the name of Rose that knows about these letters. Do you really live in 2025?  Lastly, tell me more about you. I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. I hope that is okay.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his response and places it into the envelope. Right before his eyes, it suddenly vanishes and Marcus is sure that he must be hallucinating. He’s exhausted and hasn’t had much sleep since he’s gotten back, but he has no other explanation for it. 

You awake the following morning to see the envelope on your coffee table. Excitement fills your veins and you quickly walk over to the envelope, carefully taking the familiar piece of a paper out. You begin to realize the letters you have begun exchanging with Marcus are becoming longer and longer–it brings a smile to your face and heat rising in your cheeks. 

You sit on the couch, pull your legs underneath you and grab the blanket to drape over your lap as you finally read Marcus’s letter. He thought of you–the last five days and he thought of you. When he finally tells you the truth about who he is, you feel a sense of relief. You had been afraid that you’d accidentally let it slip that you know who he is, despite already telling him that you live in the future. 

The last sentence in his letter brings you back to reality. You feel the pit in your stomach drop at the realization that this is as far as you’ll ever get with him. Sooner or later, this letters will end but you can’t help the feelings you’ve begun to develop for a man you will never meet. 

I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. 

It’s almost like he knows what will happen to himself–maybe he knows that the plan he eventually comes up with is a death sentence once the emperors find out. 

You know you shouldn’t get attached, but you get your notebook and pen and write back to him anyway. 

Dear Marcus,  I must say, it’s such a relief to hear from you. I wish I could have been there for you, with you… supporting you. If I’m being honest, it’s hard to hear that you’re going through a difficult time. Makes me want to go back into time and pull you into a hug. Do you think that’s possible? Time travel?  You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you? You make me blush sometimes with the things you say. Are you sure you’re real? A lot of the men here certainly don’t talk like you do–you can definitely teach them a thing or two.  I'm starting to think our saying is Ad Maiora, isn’t it? Moving to Rome led me toward a greater thing… one after the other, and it finally led me to you. I’d say that’s fate, wouldn’t you?  And General Marcus Acacius–sounds so formal, so official. You must be very important, aren’t you? Like I said, I wish I could pull you into a hug. I hope, at least, knowing that I’m here to listen is enough though. Also, if talking about this is punishable, then maybe we should be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you… Yes, I live in the year 2025. I’d be surprised if someone lied to you and said they knew about the letters we’ve been exchanging. Rome is… different than what you’re used to. There are no emperors. The colosseum is no longer in use–there aren’t anymore gladiators. I’ll attach a photograph of me and my balcony, maybe it’ll help you believe me.  Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book, Marcus. Ask away.  Can’t wait to hear from you again. I have missed you.  Love,  Rose 

You sign the letter without thinking, but you don’t bother to change it or rewrite it after you realize the word you used. You hope it isn’t too forward or too insensitive. You grab your Polaroid camera and quickly walk out to your balcony. You face the camera to yourself and smile, pressing the button to take the picture. Once it develops, you go back inside and fold your letter. After a few minutes, the Polaroid develops and you look down. It’s a good picture and gives a good view of the colosseum in the background. 

Placing the letter and the Polaroid into the envelope, you close it and surprisingly see the envelope disappear. 

“So it is real,” you whisper to yourself, a smile lining your lips as you already begin counting down the time before you receive a reply from Marcus. 

Later that same night, Marcus sees the envelope on his desk as he gets ready for bed. He sits down instantly at his desk and uses his candle to illuminate your writing. 

But he sees the Polaroid and takes it out of the envelope. Marcus lets out a quiet breath when he sees you. He isn’t sure what exactly he’s holding or how this managed to capture a realistic photograph of you but he’s distracted by your beauty to even notice the colosseum in the back. He’s still reeling over Lucilla’s death, but there’s something in the way your smile and your bright eyes somehow puts him at ease. 

“My lady,” he mumbles. “Lucilla, if you can hear me, please forgive me. This woman–She is helping me through this, through your loss.” Marcus shuts his eyes, guilt and desire mixing together. Guilt because he’s still dealing with the grief of losing Lucilla, and desire because you are absolutely stunning. Marcus isn’t even surprised–this is exactly how he pictured you when you began exchanging letters with him. 

Marcus turns his gaze to your letter, but his eyes flicker to your picture repeatedly. You really do live in the future and you will always be so out of reach. 

Then, he sees the word you sign your letter with. A warmth washes over him. His lips curl upwards just slightly and he begins to write. 

Dear Rose,  This–This picture, it is you, yes? I cannot explain how something like this exists, so it must be true that you do live in the future. So far into the future.  But you are breathtaking, Rose. Absolutely beautiful. Your smile and your eyes… there’s a kindness and warmth to them. The man you had been in a relationship with before truly did not realize what he had because any man would be lucky to have you.  The colosseum in your photograph–it looks old. If what you say is true, no gladiators and no emperors, then can I ask… is your world a better place than what it is here? I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. This is not to say the life I currently have or have led is not great, but a man can still dream, right?  A hug from you sounds very nice. I imagine that I would feel even more at peace with my arms around you. I am not too sure about time travel, but if these letters are any proof of what’s possible, then maybe time traveling is too. Though, if anyone is doing the time traveling, I would rather it be me. I do not want you to be in this time period here, Rose. I do not want you to be around such men because there are bad men here too. Maybe more worse here than there.  If I may be honest… I cannot stop looking at you. I believe I’m going to keep this very close to me from now on. I am sorry that I cannot provide the same type of picture of myself–we do not have this here… but maybe I can think of something else…  An open book, hm? Well, I know your favorite flower. I know that you are starting fresh here in Rome… I suppose I should ask what do you like to do then? If you are living in the future, what is there to do?  I am unsure if you have experienced this yet, but this envelope… it seems to be the reason why we are able to exchange letters. It vanished before my eyes the other day, Rose. I cannot explain how or why that happened, but maybe this is fate. Exchanging letters across time sounds impossible, but for some reason, the Gods wanted us to meet. That sounds like fate to me.  I will wait for your next letter, Rose, and I have missed you too.  Until then.  Love,  Marcus

He quickly folds the piece of paper and gently slides it into the envelope, not bothering to wait for it to disappear because his attention is pulled to your photograph. He brushes his thumb across it gently–wishing you were here. 

The following morning, you’re awake far too early but excitement fills your entire body when you see the envelope sitting on your dining table. You make a cup of coffee and open it, having grown accustomed to Marcus’s neat cursive. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when he compliments you, can feel the butterflies in your tummy. 

I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. 

You feel your heart tug just a little–the harsh truth that you will never get to meet him becomes more and more real as you continue to exchange letters with him. 

He’s seen it too–the envelope disappearing without a trace. You can’t explain how it’s possible and there is a part of you that no longer wants one. Time travel–there isn’t a way that’s possible and even if it was, how would it even work? 

You grab your notebook and quickly begin writing to him, setting your cup of coffee down. You lift the cup away from the paper, taking note that it left a coffee-stained circle at the top corner of the page. 

Dear Marcus,  You are very sweet… I’m sure there are more pretty women there. I’m just… me.  But Rome… it’s beautiful here. It’s always been a place I wanted to visit. I never did think I would end up moving here and now, I can’t even imagine ever leaving.  Considering your time period, I would say the world now is much better. I think you would like it… it might take some getting used to–it’s so very crowded here, but I think you would like it. I suppose that’s all we will have, isn’t it? Dreaming of a different life… Or maybe I’ll learn how to time travel and bring you here.  I love the beach. I love the water, the sunsets… It’s calming, almost peaceful to me. There’s just something about the sounds of the waves, the feel of the water, the sight of the sky that just puts me at ease. The beach was the one place that I felt like I could get away from everything. It became my safe haven, my safe place…  What about you? General Marcus Acacius–what do you like to do? I have also seen this envelope just disappear. I don’t have an explanation for it either, but maybe you’re right. Maybe there is a reason why we’re able to communicate across time. Do you think we’ll ever get the chance to meet face to face? You know, if I learn time travel…  Sometimes, when I go to bed, I pray that I dream of you. I think it’s the closest I can get to ever meeting you. I imagine what you would look like, what your voice would sound like… How it would feel like to be in your arms. I would assume I’d feel like how I would if I were at the beach–safe, calm, peaceful.  If by some miracle I’m able to time travel, may I come visit you instead? I think it would be much easier for me to go back in time rather than you come here. Some things might change if you were to leave your time period and come to mine… Looking forward to your next letter, Marcus. Love,  Rose

You fold your letter and place it in the envelope, already counting down the hours until you receive Marcus’s reply.

Marcus finally sits at his table after an exhausting day at the colosseum. He doesn’t find the violence entertaining like everyone else. It’s unnecessary and he wants no part of it, but he has to put on a facade for the emperors. He still plans on speaking with the senate, to conjure up a plan to somehow overthrow Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. 

However, he’s conflicted with so many emotions. The grief and loss he feels over Lucilla lingers in his chest, but he feels hopeful–excited whenever he sees the envelope on his desk. If he goes through with his plan and he ends up getting caught, Marcus knows what the consequence will be. He knows that it’s ultimately a death sentence if the emperors find out, but his mind drifts to you whenever he thinks about what his end might be. 

His eyes drift to your picture on his desk, a small smile curling his lips. He dreamt of you last night, after he had written his response to you. He dreamt that he was in your world, somehow lying in a bed with you in his arms. It was the first time since losing Lucilla that he had woken up with a feeling of ease–just dreaming about you brought him that sense of peace. 

Marcus takes your letter out and reads it with a smile. Once he finishes reading, he begins writing back to you. 

Dear Rose,  I dreamt of you last night. The Gods answered me and I dreamt of you. I dreamt that I was in your world, sitting on that balcony in the picture I received from you. I have this image of you–smiling and laughing–ingrained in my mind. It puts me at ease. Talking with you has been my safe haven, I suppose. Things have been difficult here ever since I got back and it’s lonely without Lucilla. I am sorry to bring her up.  These letters have been able to get me through each day. Your picture, too. Lately, I have been dreaming of a different life than the one I am living. I have been a soldier for most of my life, Rose. I do not think there’s a day that has gone by where I have not fought… And it is tiring. The beach sounds like a great place to just get away from it all, I agree. Here, though, I like to go to the gardens. More so now than before. I am usually surrounded by roses and it makes me feel closer to you.  I am ready to retire, Rose. I am ready to spend the rest of my days in quiet–possibly far, far away from Rome. Maybe near a beach, hm? That would certainly be another place where I can be reminded of you.  I will pray to the Gods for a miracle that we get to meet one day. I didn’t think it would be possible to exchange letters with someone from a different time, so maybe being able to meet face to face may not seem so out of reach… I imagine that I would feel safe and calm with you near too.  Your beauty, your words… The way you have made me feel… It all reminds me of Lucilla, but in your own way. I am a man of honor, Rose, and Lucilla will always have a piece of my heart, but… you have become the reason why I am able to get up every morning. I look forward to the next time I see this envelope because it means I get to talk with you.  Maybe tonight, we can meet in each other’s dreams, Rose.  Until then, my lady.  Love,  Marcus

Days turn into weeks and your letters with Marcus become more and more frequent. You’ve tried to teach yourself the theories of time travel, but you’re just as confused as when you first started. The more you talk with Marcus, the more you begin to realize the magnitude of your feelings for him. You try to tell yourself that developing feelings for a man you won’t ever meet–a man who’s already dead–is only going to set you up for heartbreak. 

But despite knowing how this might end, you still exchange letters with him anyway. 

Marcus is set to meet with the Senate tomorrow and he knows that if he gets caught, it will be his death sentence. There won’t be any way that he will be able to get out of it. He holds onto your letters–and especially your picture–when the days and weeks become more difficult for him. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla require his presence at the colosseum and Marcus finds it increasingly exhausting to sit there and feign interest. 

When he gets back to his chambers every day, the envelope is there waiting for him. He reads your letters repeatedly before he can even write a response. The way you talk about your world–it helps him escape his reality. He begins to realize just how deeply he feels for you and it saddens him because despite how strongly he feels, Marcus knows that you two may never get the chance to meet. 

Later that night, you see the envelope and feel the excitement rush through you. However, once you open the letter and begin reading the words on the page, you feel your heart drop–tears building at the corners of your eyes. This feels almost like a goodbye…

Dear Rose,  I am set to meet with the Senate tomorrow. In secret. I realize that this might be the last letter I will ever write to you, but I will be praying to the Gods that it won’t be, but if it is… I wanted to write to you one last time.  You have given me hope, have made me feel alive when I had lost everything. Coming back to Rome after Numidia, after losing Lucilla–I could not find the will to live, but then I received your first letter. It was fate. You saved me, Rose. You continue to save me.  I wish I could see you. I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hold you. I know I said in a previous letter that I would want to spend the rest of my days in quiet… but I think that has changed.  If I had it my way, I would spend the rest of my days with you. I imagine what my life would be like with you. I imagine a lot of laughter. I imagine that we would be at the beach or maybe at the garden and we would have plenty of meaningful conversations. I imagine my mornings would be one of my favorite times of the day because I would get to wake up every morning with you by my side.  If this is the last time I get to speak with you, just know that you now also have a piece of my heart, Rose. I will carry your photograph with me forever. I will hold onto the conversations we’ve had and the letters we’ve exchanged.  If I do not make it… please remember that you deserve all of the good things in the world. You deserve to always be happy. You deserve to live your life the way you want. You deserve to be with someone who will cherish the very ground you walk on because you deserve nothing less.  When I sleep tonight, I will dream of you… like I always do, Rose.  Yours forever,  Marcus

You know what he means when he says he’s going to speak with the Senate tomorrow. You’ve read what will happen–after all, you know exactly how history plays out after having researched the history of Ancient Rome and Marcus. 

You can feel your heart breaking–the ache in your chest beginning to throb almost painfully. You know how Marcus’s story ends, but you can’t let him go. You had been hesitant before–altering history–but you have to tell him. You may never get to meet him, but you don’t want this to be the end. 

Grabbing your notebook, you begin to write your response. Almost fifteen minutes later, you fold it in half and place it inside the envelope, watching it disappear yet again before your eyes. 

Marcus awakes that morning with a knot in his stomach–his eyes glance over at your photo before he catches the envelope. He sits up from bed and walks towards his desk, pulling out your letter and reading it carefully.

Dear Marcus,  Don’t. Your last letter feels like a goodbye, and I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to say goodbye, not yet… Not ever. I shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m sure it’s going to alter my own reality, but I don’t care. I don’t want to let you go.  You’re going to get caught. No matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it in your mind, you will be caught. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla will find out and they–they will not take it lightly. They will make you fight in the colosseum and that is where you will die. I know how your story ends and yet, I made a choice to continue exchanging letters with you. I knew that our story would only end in heartbreak, but maybe… Maybe there’s still a chance for us.  I am begging you, Marcus… Please do not do it. Don’t go to the Senate. Just–Just leave Rome. Live the rest of your days in quiet–away from war, away from the bloodshed, away from the emperors. You no longer need to fight and I understand… I understand that you made a promise to Lucilla, to yourself, but I cannot lose you and maybe this makes me selfish, but– You saved me too, Marcus.  I will spend the rest of my days figuring out how to transcend time… to find a way where you and I can finally meet. Fate brought us together, right? We will figure this out. I will figure this out.  This is not the end of your story, Marcus Acacius. Do you understand me? And this certainly isn’t the end of ours. At the end of the day, we still have a choice… If you decide to still go through with it, then I will understand. I know you are a man of honor, Marcus. And if you do decide that you will go to the Senate tonight, then I hope you know how deeply I feel for you too. I didn’t think I would ever love again, but you… You nestled your way into my heart and made a home there. I go to sleep dreaming of you. When I wake up, you are the first person I think of.  I love you, Marcus.  Yours forever,  Rose

He sits at the edge of his bed, rereading your letter over and over and over again. You know how his story ends and you know exactly what will happen when he goes to meet with the Senate tonight. He should have known that you’d be aware of his history–you live in the future after all. 

Marcus isn’t afraid to die–in fact, it’s something that he’s come to terms with a long time ago, but for once, he doesn’t want this to end yet. He doesn’t want to let you go either and maybe, maybe you two will never meet, but he would rather die an old man exchanging letters with you. 

He reads the last sentence repeatedly and he can’t help the way the words stir something in him–the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating faster–you love him. 

Marcus knows what he needs to do now. 

The rest of the day seems to drag on–the minutes trickling by ever so slowly. Even at work, you can’t concentrate. Antonia and Giovanni pick up on your distraction, but you reassure them with a fake smile and tell them that you’d just rather spend the night alone. 

You know it was selfish to tell Marcus the truth, to practically beg him to stay, but you couldn’t imagine continuing to live your life with the possibility that you could save his life. You had only been exchanging letters with him for a little over a month, but you couldn’t help the feelings that you had begun to develop for him. The way your heart races faster when you see the envelope, or the way your stomach flips when you read his letters. 

In your free time, you had been trying to learn how to time travel. It seemed almost impossible, but you didn’t want to quit. You couldn’t explain how you’re able to exchange letters with someone who lives centuries in the past–and if that was possible, then surely it was possible to time travel. 

Somehow. 

You enter your apartment later that night–you can feel the nerves settle in the pit of your stomach when you slowly open the door. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, heart rate slowly picking up when your eyes scan the dining table.

No letter. 

Your stomach drops, so you close the door and then move your gaze to the coffee table. 

Nothing.

Tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes and you realize that Marcus had made his choice. You sit on your couch, bring your legs to your chest and cry into it. The sob builds and builds until you let out a quiet whimper, tears now streaming down your face. 

He was gone. 

Forever.

A week later and you finally get the courage to go back to work. When at work, you fake a smile–feign happiness, but when you get back home, you cry yourself to sleep. 

Antonia and Giovanni leave you dinner at your front door, but you don’t bother to open it. You aren’t hungry–you haven’t had an appetite since Marcus’s last letter. You wonder if he ever received your letter and if he did, did he read it? 

And if he did read it, what went through his mind? 

And when you admitted that you loved him, did that scare him away? 

When you open your front door later that night, you set your things down and begin walking into the living room until you finally see it.

The envelope. 

Your heart leaps out of your chest. 

You waste no time in opening the envelope, quickly taking out the letter and breathing out a sigh of relief when you see his familiar cursive writing. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry that I have not written back to you. I had a change of plans after your last letter and had to strategically plan how I would be able to execute it.  I am no longer in Rome. You were right–I no longer need to fight. I faked my death–with the help of some trusting men of mine–and am far away from that place.  I am living the rest of my days in the quiet–I now live in a small village where no one is familiar with who I am or what I have done. It is almost like a fresh start–a chance for me to live a different life… a life that I might have chosen from the beginning if I had the choice.  I want to thank you, Rose. For telling me the truth, for warning me. I am much happier now than I have ever been, and I am more than ready to spend the rest of my days with you. Traveling to this village was not easy, but you gave me the strength–like you always do–to keep going.  I love you, Rose. I wanted to tell you that once I was safe–once I was finally settled in. Ad Maiora, right? Towards greater things... So, my lady, what do you say? Shall we continue our story together and maybe–one day–finally meet? Yours forever, Marcus

the end...?

An Unwanted Marriage (Marcus Acacius x Female OC)

CAST

Pedro Pascal as General Marcus Acacius

Anna Popplewell as Lady Cassandra "Casey" Acacius neé Gracchus

Derek Jacobi as Senator Gaius Sempronius Gracchus

Joseph Quinn as Emperor Publis Septimus Geta

Fred Hechiner as Emperor Caracalla

Connie Nielsen as Lucilla

Rest of the cast as themselves

This is the best movie that I have seen in 2023. It is movies like these (from the repost above) and moments in these movies that make me realize that true love is real and it is possible.

Not to mention the way that Eric pulls Ariel closer instead of pushing her away.

i am so unwell over this scene you have no idea

the fact that we can tell EXACTLY what eric is thinking, how he goes from realizing ariel is a mermaid to recognizing that there's a bigger thing to focus on and he'll process the reveal later, when the woman he loves isn't in danger.

how he immediately looks down at ariel and sees her expression, he sees how terrified she is, because for the past three days he's done nothing BUT learn how to read her expressions, so he knows her fears without her having to say anything, and his only thought goes to "keep her safe, keep her here, keep her close"

and can we please talk about the physical affection between these two???? how ariel's hand goes from laying on eric's chest to holding onto his shoulder, how eric goes from just kind of holding ariel up to pulling her as close as he possibly can, curling himself around her and surrounding her in his arms, fully prepared to take the brunt of ursula's power if it comes down to it. because she's his world, and he refuses to lose her again.

and eric's GLARE??? HELLO???? the man just realized that the silent girl he's fallen in love with and the girl who saved his life is the same person and he just wanted to kiss her and celebrate that but now he is PISSED and he just wants to live happily ever after so he can and will do everything he can to get that ending for him and ariel.

An Unwanted Marriage (Marcus Acacius x Female OC)

Masterlist

Summary: Cassandra "Casey" Gracchus, the shy 24-year-old daughter of Senator Gracchus, is married to the 40-year-old General Marcus Acacius in an arranged marriage. Despite her long-held crush on him, Marcus treats her coldly, believing lies spread by her father that she is a brat. In reality, Casey is kind, dutiful, and devoted to managing Marcus’s villa, but her gentle nature is misunderstood, and her heart slowly breaks from his harshness. With her father’s emotional neglect and her only support being her loyal handmaid, Livia, Casey retreats further, hoping Marcus will see the truth before their marriage is lost.

Warning(s): ⚠18+⚠, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, POSSIBLE DUBCON (sex in an arranged marriage with a patriachal power structure), hefty age gap, inexperienced reader, discovering that you are in love with your spouse, SO MUCH FLUFF, high likelihood of historical inaccuracy

CAST

Chapter 1 (now out!)

ONE SHOT (FOR NOW) ===================

Imagine: If Emma was 5 years old when the curse was cast and she was sent through the wardrobe. And she had a newborn baby sister (the second daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming), who was swept up in the Evil Queen’s curse, and she was placed as the adopted daughter of Rumpelstiltskin

*This means Emma is 30 instead of 25* *Henry is still 10 years old. Emma had him later. Elizabeth is 16-years-old. Her aging got slowed down because of the curse.* *⚠️SPOILER WARNINGS⚠️ to whoever hasn’t seen Once Upon A Time* A/N: THIS WAS GOING TO BE A SERIES BUT THE IDEA'S I HAD FOR THIS SERIES ARE NOT FULLY COMPLETED ALSO I AM A COLLEGE STUDENT SO I AM VERY BUSY OUAT MASTERLIST

========================================

Cast:

Lana Parilla as Regina Mills/The Evil Queen

Jennifer Morrison as Emma Swan aka The Savior

Ginnifer Goodwin as Mary Margaret/Snow White

Josh Dallas as David Nolan/Prince David “James” “Charming”

Jared S. Gilmore as Henry Mills

Robert Carlyle as Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin

Bailee Madison as Elizabeth Gold-Charming

=======================================

“We will always find you”

=======================================

A/N: Please do not judge me this is my first time writing something like this

A hospital bed comes into view of everyone

Emma:

(Emma, Regina, Dr. Whale, and Mother Superior are gathered in Henry’s room at the hospital.

Regina: No… No…

Emma: I love you, Henry.

(Emma kisses Henry on the forehead, which causes the spell he was under to be broken. A pulse of magic spreads throughout Storybrooke. He wakes up and gasps.)

Henry: I love you, too. You saved me.

Regina: You did it.

(The pulse of magic awakens everyone in the town. Soon, a crowd begins to gather in Henry’s room.)

Emma: Henry… What’s going on?

Regina: No…

Henry: The curse. I think you broke it.

Mother Superior: That was true love’s kiss.

Regina: No, no…

Mother Superior: If I were you, Your Majesty, I’d find a place to hide.

Regina: Henry… No matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I do love you.

(Regina flees the room.)

(David, after turning back from the edge of Storybrooke, sees Mary Margaret in the street.)

David: Snow!

MMB: Charming.

(The two run towards each other.)

MMB: You found me.

David: Did you ever doubt I would?

(They kiss.)

———–

(Mr. Gold and Belle continue to watch the purple smoke pour out of the well.)

Belle: I-I don’t understand.

Mr. Gold: We’re in a land without magic, Belle. And I’m bringing it. Magic… Is coming.

Belle: Why?

Mr. Gold: Why? Because of magic… Is power.

(The purple smoke continues to engulf Storybrooke. Regina, still observing from the window, smiles. The smoke wraps around the clock tower, as the clock strikes 8:15.)

----------------------------------------------

Few minutes prior to these events

Elizabeth POV

I was waiting back at my Papa's pawn shop for him to come back.

He told me he would prefer I stay inside the safety of the pawn shop seeing as all the chaos that has been happening as of late.

And then he just dashed off with the woman he keeps calling Belle.

Everything as of late has been whacko. More whacko than average. I just wish I knew what was going on

'It all started the day Emma Swan rolled into town' I think as I lay on a cot in the back room of the pawn shop.

'Not that I'm blaming Emma.'

'I really want to go see if Henry is okay. He's my only friend in the small, weird town.'

"I mean it's not like Papa will notice I'm gone at all," I say as I get off the cot I was just lying on.

I reach down and grab my shoes and put them on. I then go over to the coat rack and grab my jacket and my scarf, seeing as it is a little windy outside.

I walk toward the entrance of the pawn shop and twist the knob and open the door to the outside world.

The minute I laid my feet outside there was a slight gust of wind and I felt goosebumps go all over my body making me shiver.

I turn in the direction of the hospital and start to walk that way wrapping my jacket closer to me.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," I say to no one.

-----------------------------------

I walk for a little bit till I reach the edge of the town square.

Just as I go to turn the corner a feel a sharp breeze blow through my head making me go stalk still at the corner of Maine Street.

A whole bunch of memories start flooding into my brain. Funny thing is I don't remember any of these memories, like at all. I get sweeped into my brain and start relieving memories I do not remember at all.

Elizabeth Memories

Still Elizabeth POV

A dwarf tells Mary Margaret to keep pushing and David Nolan stands next to her encouraging her.

'Why are Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan in these memories?' I ask myself out loud. No one heard me.

I kept watching.

I noticed off to the side a little behind David Nolan was a small, young girl no more than 5 years old. She was wearing a beautiful snow white dress, and cute little white shoes, and she had her hair up in a half up half down with little jewels and a white bow in her hair. She looked nervous about who must be her parents.

I looked back toward Mary Margaret and David Nolan.

"Just one more push your Majesty" with one final push her baby was out.

"Oh...oh" Mary Margaret said in pain, relief and happiness.

"Congratulations your Majesty"

'Your Majesty?!?' why was this short man calling Mary Margaret your Majesty? I'm so lost and confused right now.

'Just keep watching!' I tell myself. And I did.

"You did it, Snow. You did it. Your okay!" David said in a soothing caring tone

'Wait what Snow? As in Snow White. The same one from Henry's Storybook' I ask myself. I'm now totally lost.

"I sure did Charming. I sure did" Snow? says

'Snow, Charming. WTF! This has to be a figment of my imagination. No way any of this is real' I say out loud.

I see out of the corner of my eye the young girl walk toward Charming?!?

I'm so lost and confused.

The young girl hugs her dads legs and he pats her head while hold Snows? hand with the other.

The dwarf size man comes back with the little girl wrapped and swaddled in a cloth switched baby blanket.

I decide to walk forward and see what was on it.

"What shall you name her your highness?" the dwarf man asks

Snow and Charming? (man this is still confusing, what this got to do with me at all) looked at each other with a knowing look.

"Elizabeth. Her name shall be Elizabeth!!!"

I froze. I stopped walking toward the bed.

'Elizabeth. No way. That's my name. No, it has to be a coincidence? This all has to be a coincidence'

I get out of my frozen state and walk around the canopy bed and go to the other side to get a look at the baby in Snow's arms.

I look at the baby and it looks so similar to me. Its facial features are so similar to mine.

'Wait! If that's me then where's....' I trail off.

'Henry always mentions Emma as Snow and Charming oldest daughter. Wait that means that....'

I turn my head toward the little girl and now I see it.

I see it all. OMG! That little's girls facial features look so familiar earlier now I know why.

This girl is Emma!

'That means that this Enchanted Forest really exists and that Henry was right the entire time about me being the long-lost daughter of Snow and Charming...Mary Margaret and David Nolan. GAH this is so confusing it's annoying'

I then hear what is warning bells in the distance.

I panic internally. I look toward my parents? gosh, that's weird to say. I love Mr. Gold as my Papa. My mind snaps back. Mr. Gold, omg!

Wait that means Henry was right about him being Rumplestiltskin as well. OMG, I'm the adopted daughter of Rumplestiltskin. Well, now when I say it like that...it sounds cool and awesome.

Anyway back to the situation.

They take about how the Evil Queen is here and how Charming needs to get Emma to the wardrobe.

He and snow fight and he finally goes. But not before giving her a kiss.

"Come back to me," she says, "I always will" charming says in return and he takes off with 5-year-old Emma in one of his arms (Emma is on his hip) and a sword in the other.

They turned the hall and I decided to go see what happens so I follow Charming. Not before turning back to my biological mother, and seeing her coddling crying 1 minute old me in her arms.

I reluctantly turn and follow in the way Charming went

{Time skip - we all know what happens with Charming, the Evil Queens Guards, Snow (but this time she has baby Elizabeth in her arms), and the Evil Queen}

I saw the room get covered in some dark mist that is supposed to be this curse that Henry keeps talking about.

Memories end

I gasp and open my eyes. I then blink my eyes to readjust them to the sun.

I then take in my surroundings and see a whole lot of people in the town square and the streets now.

Some run to others and hug them. Others seem to look confused about what's going on. I then see two figures off in the distance and now exactly who they are.

MY BIOLOGICAL PARENTS - Snow White and Prince David "Charming"

I see they are having a moment so I go to walk back to Papa's? (do I still call him that anymore? ) I think about the whole biological parent reveal through my memories and my mind goes back to Mr. Gold, my cursed version father. 'What will Snow and Charming think to know one of their biggest enemies (I know through Henry's little book ok) raising their biological daughter.' I stop walking and stay in place on the sidewalk. I have left the town square by now and headed back toward the pawnshop

I think about this predicament with a serious-looking but sad-looking face. I then come to a realization.

"You know what! I don't care if Snow and Charming hate it. He was the one that raised me all these years. He was the one who was there for me when I got sick or needed a shoulder to cry on (other than Henry). He tucked me in at night and loved and cherished me. If that changes because Emma broke the curse. I'll be damned if I let that happen. Rumplestiltskin is my father and so is Charming (David). They're both going to have to share me. Rumple technically is my legal guardian. They'll both have to live with that. If one of them doesn't (*cough cough Charming*) so be it but I not changing my mind" I was proud of myself and I kept walking toward the pawn shop.

I go to turn around for a second after I heard a scream and a shout from some people and I wish I didn't.

"Maybe I really should have stayed inside the pawn shop today" I whisper to myself flabbergasted as I see what is in front of me.

It's the same giant purple cloud of smoke from my memories.

It's sweeping right over everything and everyone in Storybrooke.

I saw it sweep through Mary Margaret and David Nolan

And it came toward me at a somewhat rapid rate covering me in a cooling mist and wind.

It didn't seem to do any harm to anyone.

I shrug once it cleared and kept walking toward the Pawnshop.

I finally make it to the pawn shop and open the door and go inside before shutting the door.

I begin to make my way to the back of the shop when I feel a gust of power all over my body.

I lean on the counter for support. Laying both my hands on the counter, I close my eyes and try to calm heart rate.

To much has happened tody. I don't know what that feeling was but I don't want to know right now.

Between finding out my heritage and then finding out h=who my adopted father is and then who I am, I don't want to know what that was.

I kept my hands on the counter, with my eyes closed and breathing evenly. My heart rate calmed down.

I then lean off the counter and start walking to the back room.

I get behind the curtain when I hear the bell above the door to the shop go off.

"Ugh!" I say over dramatically. That's when I hear his voice.

"Elizabeth darling, you in here!" That's Papa's voice I wiplash my head around and practically run through the curtains.

Yup, it was definitely him!

He was looking at Belle asking if she was okay. She said yes.

He then looks up towards me and gives me a little smile.

That did it for me.

I ran toward him and practically bear-tackled him into a hug. (We did not land on the floor)

He was surprised, to say the least, from what I can tell from his hitched breath.

He moved his cane to his left hand and put his right over my shoulder pulling me into a hug.

I hug back tighter refusing to let go.

He sighed eventually "Darling you'll have to let me go you know that right" in his Scottish accent.

Me being the man baby I am whine and say"Nahuhu" hugging tighter.

He just laughs and I love the feeling of that laugh.

"Okay darling time to let go!" he says sweetly and jokingly

"mhh fine. Just one more minute Papa!" I whisper.

Rumplestiltskin POV

'Did she just call me Papa?!!?' I thought surprised. I hug here back anyway.

"Fine one more minute darling!" I say.

I look toward Belle and she is looking at me so lovingly.

God I love this woman.

God I love Elizabeth she's like my daughter to me.

Going by the fact that she did not run off toward Snow and Charming the first minute she got, I take it she still sees me as her Papa.

Papa! Gosh I haven't been called that in a lifetime.

I know she knows her parentage.

I also know she wasn't in here the whole time.

She must have got the little memories she had as a baby back.

"Time to let go now darling"

She reluctantly let's go. I grab Ella's hand and she looks me in the eyes. she looks at me with love. Even though I'm the Dark one. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know that one though.

Back to Elizabeth's POV

I reluctantly let go of my Papa.

Yes, I said it he is and always will be my Papa. No matter who he is. Idk what happened in the past back in the Enchanted Forest whatever happened I do not blame him.

Awkward silence endures

Papa coughs and finally says "Well...It's been a long day. Why don't we close the shop up early ey!"

"Sure!" I say

Papa, Belle and I go about cleaning the store up and closing up. Unfortenatly not locking the door. But the sign is flipped to closed now. Papa and I are behind the counter. I lean on his shoulder. And I swore I saw a smile for a minute

I pick my head off my head, and see him smirk "Was that I smile I saw?"

"No, whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean Papa?"

"Do you mean this?" and then he proceeds to tickle me.

I end up on the floor laughing-crying.

Belle went in the back a while ago to get rest.

Just Papa and I

Papa soon ask me something unexpected "Darling, why did you not go back to your biological family? I'm sure they miss you!"

I shrug and sigh a sad smile he looks at me with a knowing look.

"I'm just not sure, Papa. I mean I did just find out TODAY that I'm from a realm full of fairytales and mythical creatures. And better yet I'm one of the two children of Snow White and Prince Charming. Which to me is just weird. The Disney movie version of Snow White never had Prince Charming I thought that was Sleeping Beauty and why are you laughing"

"The fact that you compared your biological mother to a Disney movie is funny" I gave him a look "Sorry carry on dearie"

"I'm just not sure how they'll look at me, ya know"

"Is it the fact that the Evil Queen made me your adoptive father? Or the fact that I'm Rumplestiltskin and their worst enemy?"

I frown at that last one but I say "Idk anymore"

"Go to them dearie they are your family after all!?!"

"But you are also my family," I say back

He frowns confused and gives me a look to elaborate

"The curse may have been the cause of my separation from my family. But without it, I wouldn't have found the best Papa in all the realms. You were there for me through everything. I practically grew up with the most sweet person I know. I mean a little mean and cruel..."He hits my arm sarcastically at that comment, "But sweet too"

At the end of my little speech, I turn to him and he's silently crying so I give him a hug which he returns.

We pull away

"They may be my family, but you Rumplestiltskin will always be my Papa."

{Time skip - the town getting mad they are not back home, planning to take down Regina, her getting locked up}

Charming POV (Suprise)

I can't believe Emma did it. She broke the curse.

I looked over toward Snow as we began to walk toward Gold's pawn shop.

I just realized where's Elizabeth.

I stop walking and thought hard.

The curse broke so where is she?

Emma and Snow noticed I stopped walking and came back to me.

Snow asked "What's wrong?"

"The curse is broken, right?"

"Yes?!?" Emma said

I turn to Snow and say, "Then where's Elizabeth!" Snow finally got it and gasped

"Elizabeth?!?!" Snow said

"Whose Elizabeth?" Emma asked, "Was she that baby girl in my memories?"

I nod. "She's your baby sister!"

Emma looked shocked but rubbed it off.

"I have a baby sister!" Emma said.

"Yup!" Snow and I said

After a while we kept walking toward Gold's Pawnshop.

We made it there and Emma opened the door and I did not believe who was standing behind the counter with Gold.

Snow gasp.

Gold and the girl looked toward us.

silence

Gold then spoke saying "Can we help you dearie's?"

I ignored him and looked at the young woman in his company. I recognize that chin and those eyes and hair anywhere!

I then spoke in a soft but loud tone "Elizabeth!"

The young girl looked at us in shock, recognition, and fright.

Snows POV

My darling baby girl is here with HIM.

But why?!? Charming asked "Why are you here...with HIM?" in a venomous tone.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because next thing I new Charming was up against the wall a knee to his chest along with a sword aimed right at his heart. With Elizabeth wielding the sword.

She spoke with so much venom "You..Take..That..Back"

This was such a long day.

Charming was stunned

Gold...Rumple came and pulled her back with a bit of a struggle but pulled her back a good couple of feet from Charming.

I ran and helped him up.

We both looked back toward our darling baby girl as she stared toward her father with venom in her tone but fear in her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin POV

'Stupid Charmings' I say in my head

Here I am trying to hold back my darling little girl from killing her other father. As much as I would love for her to actually do it, she would be devastated after, so second best option then.

Elizabeth POV

How dare he say that about my Papa? I'm going to tear him a new one.

I didn't think in my fit of rage as I grabbed the closet sharp object and pinned him to the wall and aimed the sword at his chest right above his heart.

I had so much anger inside me, but so much fear.

Papa got me off him before taking the sword from me and pushing me gently back toward the counter as I looked at my biological dad with venon, anger and fear.

"Geez! Definitely my temper thats for sure!"

That's it. I try to run at him but I was pulled back by Belle this time.

I was too busy staring at my biological family.

Belle then gently said to me "Go take a nap hmm? Or go meditate it will help but don't do this"

I sigh before going to the back to meditate.

Charming POV

Elizabeth went to the back of the store to do something to calm her down.

We looked toward Gold...Rumple whatever.

"Can you please tell me why you came so I can go back to calming my darling daughter down?"

Now that just shocked me

"Wait a damn minute! Daughter! She is not your daughter she is ours! Why the hell would she be your...." I did not get to finish the sentence before i got blasted back to a wall by an unknown force. I slumped down and Snow and Emma came and helped me up.

We looked in Rumple's direction but our gaze move to Elizabeth who had a fireball conjured in her hand.

Elizabeth POV

I heard yelling and went back to the main area of the shop.

'Protect Papa' was all I heard in my head, it was like I heard a voice in my head, I felt a tingle in my arms and all throughout my body as I got up and rushed back to the front of the pawn shop. I somehow summoned a ball of light 'magic' to my hands and blasted it toward Charming.

He got back up with Emma and Snow's help and every just looked flabbergasted at me.

I sigh defeated.

"Papa Imma take a walk" and turn toward the front door and don't stop to hear a response

Rumplestiltskin POV

Okay! You know what she needs fresh air. Just hope she doesn't go far.

"Now what do you need dearies"

{They explain}

[Time skip - 2 hours later]

Elizabeth POV

I was at Henry's castle.

I like it up here.

The wind blowing all around me, the world is just so calm and still up here. No worries at all.

I don’t know how much time last but it must be close to 3pm due the sun being lower.

I hear footsteps approach my sitting spot on the castle and I look up to see Henry. I proceed to stand up Henry gives me a hand and I look around and ‘yep, just as I thought my biological family is here. No wait it’s just David. Where’s Emma and Mary Margret’

I sigh and Henry must’ve noticed I noticed him.

Henry's eyes meet mine, filled with a child's earnest curiosity. "But, Elizabeth, he's your real dad."

I sigh, attempting to distill complex emotions into words suitable for a ten-year-old. "Henry, I was just a tiny baby when the curse brought me to Storybrooke. Snow White and Prince Charming are my biological parents, and I can't change that. But growing up, it was Rumplestiltskin who played the role of Papa, guiding me until I turned sixteen. They weren't there for me, curse or not. Family isn't just about blood; it's about who was there for you when you needed them."

He processes my words, and a thoughtful expression replaces the initial confusion. Finally, he wraps his arms around my legs and whispers something to David as he runs off.

Alone, I turn towards the horizon, and my thoughts spill into the quiet air.

Welcome To My Blog

Welcome everyone to my blog! This blog is for all the multifandom fans, so if you aren’t one or do not like/support the mutlifandom get off my account please and thank you! 

Welcome all my multifandom geeks! So...I am new to the multifandom, (I do have a Wattpad account that has two stories so far, I am working on more), but anyway, I am new to writing multifandom stories, so please do not judge me. I may not frequently write multifandom stories, because life gets in the way. Anyway, so yay, I hope you all enjoy my blog. 

KEEP BEING GEEKS!

Imagine: Draco Malfoy has a little sister named Elizabeth Malfoy, who is one year young get than him. She was sorted into Gryffindor Draco’s 2nd year at Hogwarts.

Headcannon's

She met Harry, Hermione and Ron on the Hogwarts Express because Draco would not allow her to sit with him and his friends

She stumbled upon their carriage by mistake and asked if she could sit there

They said yes and introduced themselves.

She came in and sat down and introduced herself as Elizabeth Malfoy and Ron went bonkers

Harry told him to not judge a book by its cover and to shut up

The Sorting ceremony happened and everyone looked at her as her names was called expecting the hat to sort her into Slytherin

The hat was on her for longer than 5 minutes

Professors started whispering around her About being a Hat Stall

They were all shocked, including herself, when the hat shouted “Gryffindor”

She was frightened

She sat there frightened till McGonagall told her she needs to join the Gryffindor table

Someone clapped first and everyone else started clapping awkwardly

She got off the stool and walked down the steps to the Gryffindor table

As she walks down she looks to her older brother Draco and he is in shock

They just stare at one another till she is dragged by Harry to sit down

During the feast Ron would not stop smack talking her family

This causes Harry to stand up amd smack him upside the head

Harry says he lost his appetite and then turns to Elizabeth and asks if she wants to go up to the common room early

She nods her head yes because she is in shock that Harry Freaking Potter who is a year above her is being nice to her the daughter of Lucius Malfoy.

Elizabeth just follow behind Harry as he walks out the Great Hall with Ron yelling behind them at them in the background throwing slurs and stuff

Elizabeth is in shock of the moving stair case

She stops Harry before they can walk up the stair case and ask why he is being nice to her

Harry says “Just because your Draco’s sister does not mean you are like him”

Elizabeth’s eyes are watering but she holds them back because “A Malfoy does not cry”

The Clouds and The Stars

Request: Yes or No

Sequel one shot to The Sun and Moon!

Pronouns: He/Him/His

~~~

Married life... such a curious thing. Many grew up with an expectation as to how it would be, mostly based on their own parents' relationship. There were the happy parents who formed a love match and loved each other with their whole hearts. There were the friendly parents who were more friends than partners but still cared for one another. Then, there were the saddening parents who either due to a forced marriage or perhaps because of time grew to despise each other, only tolerating each other for the sake of their children whom they unknowingly harm with their arguments and jabs. 

(Y/N) grew up with friendly parents. Lucy and Henry had ended their respective social seasons by marrying under the guise of being madly in love in order to chase after what they truly wanted, even if their desires had to be kept behind closed doors and only exposed to trusted individuals. Secrecy had always been a part of his life, even when it involved marriage, and he supposed now, as he lied in bed and watched the sun peek through the curtains, he'd truly followed in his parents' footsteps. At least, however, he'd found someone. Found more than one, in fact. 

"Love," (Y/N) couldn't help but smile as Anthony sighed into his ear, his muscular arm tightening around him and pulling him closer to his chest. Anthony buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, lips pressing against his skin before he hooked his chin over (Y/N)'s shoulder. He gently nudged him, a soft grunt leaving him when (Y/N) remained still. "Love."

"What is it?" (Y/N) chuckled and finally shifted, moving onto his back and peering up at Anthony when he propped himself up onto his elbow. Anthony smiled at him, cheeky and pleased, one hand moving to cup his face and rub his thumb soothingly over his cheek, a warm twinkle in his dark eyes. (Y/N) felt his skin flush under such an adoring gaze. 

"I simply wished to see my husband's beautiful face, is all." Anthony cooed, and (Y/N) smile widened tenfold, a bashful and breathy laugh escaping him. They weren't married to each other, not legally or in the eyes of the church at least, but in their hearts and to their families they were. Many in the ton suspected but with Queen Charlotte's silence and Lady Whistledown calling their dance together a 'much-needed change for such dreary balls', anyone with suspicions or beliefs remained silent. Of course, they still had to remain a secret, lest someone grew annoyed enough to reach out to the church. 

"Such a charmer, Anthony." (Y/N) spoke teasingly, sighing softly against Anthony's mouth when he swooped down to kiss him. Anthony pressed harder against his lips and fully rolled over, laying ontop of the painter and only pulling away to trail kisses down his jawline and to his neck. Always so hungry, so needy and clingy. "Anthony, we have things to do-"

"They can wait," Anthony murmured against his skin, one hand slipping under his shirt while the other took his hand and locked their fingers together. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and released a breathy laugh, breath nearly hitching when Anthony needily rolled his hips. "We have time."

"It's an important day, Anthony. Francesca will need her brother today, you know." (Y/N) reminded him, dipping his fingers beneath Anthony's chin and gripping it lightly so he could tilt his head up. Anthony sighed dramatically, putting his full weight down on him and bringing their intertwined hands toward his face, a gentle kiss pressing against the back of (Y/N)'s hand. (Y/N) smiled.

"Suppose we should be quick, then." Anthony grinned mischievously, his free hand pushing up (Y/N)'s shirt and head dipping to pepper kisses along his stomach. 

"Anthony!" (Y/N) tried not to laugh too loudly, mindful of those still slumbering in the nearby rooms. He could hear the maids and servants bustling around, likely readying the house and preparing breakfast. Such a big day for the Bridgerton family again, and yet, there lied the Viscount, acting like a hormonal boy all over again. (Y/N) swatted at his shoulder and pushed himself up but it only prompted Anthony's head to dip even lower. "Anthony Bridgerton!"

Releasing a muffled laugh, Anthony finally relented and sat back, his hand still keeping an iron grip on (Y/N)'s no matter how hard the painter trying to pull back. (Y/N) groaned again in fake annoyance that only made Anthony giggle like a child and reach out to pull him onto his lap. He leaned in, pressing their lips together again. (Y/N) melted against him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, squeezing Anthony's hand and feeling his fingers tighten even more. 

"If only-" (Y/N) leaned back, briefly interrupted when Anthony pecked his lips again. "-you put this much effort into having an heir with Steph." 

"Mm, I've been busy and she seems more than content with her... lady friends," Anthony said, nuzzling his face into (Y/N)'s chest. "If you'd been a lady, I'm certain you'd be expecting by now." 

"Yes, I'm aware. You've made that abundantly clear, Lord Bridgerton. I don't understand how you can have this much stamina." (Y/N) shook his head with a soft laugh, sweetly kissing the top of his head and exhaling softly. "But, I am not a lady nor your wife, Anthony. You need an heir. I'm sure it won't take too many attempts."

"And what of you and Kate? I'm sure you nor she will have this difficulty if you try for children of your own. We have each other's blessings, you know. If you'd like to have a child-"

"We've been breaching the topic, actually." (Y/N) revealed, finally untangling his hand from Anthony's and rising up from the bed, searching for the clothes he kept in Anthony's home for days he spent the night. Because of their predicament regarding Anthony's position as Viscount and their inability to wed publicly or have children, both men agreed to take on brides. Stephanie provided the perfect candidate for Viscountess and (Y/N) had always held affection for Kate. "She's more than happy to have children. She thinks two is a good number, in fact, so they have someone to keep them company."

"How many do you think Steph will want?" Anthony sighed, standing up as well to get dressed.

"Well, if you have a boy first... I think you'll both be content with just one." (Y/N) chuckled, slipping his coat on and adjusting the ends of it while Anthony began taking clothes out of the closet. The thought of parenthood, of fatherhood, hung over the two of them, both exciting and nerve-wracking. The four of them would care for the children together, that'd already been agreed upon, but still... bringing life into the world? It made (Y/N) queasy yet... pleased. 

"If you and I could have children," Anthony whistled sharply, a grin spreading across his face and fingers swiftly buttoning up his shirt. "We'd have a bigger brood than Mother." 

"I don't doubt it." (Y/N) retrieved Anthony's coat from its spot draped over the armrest and approached him, helping him slip his arms through and adjusting it for him. He smiled, finishing the last button of his shirt and fixing the collar before tugging Anthony closer to kiss him. "You're insatiable, Anthony."

"Only for you." Anthony cooed, gearing up to lean in again but the sound of the door opening made him pause.

Stephanie dramatically gasped at the sight of them, lifting a hand to her head and fanning herself rapidly. "Oh, Kate, what ever will we do? How could they do this to us?" She gasped again, a teasing smile stretching across her face as Kate giggled and gently nudged her and walked further into the room. (Y/N) rolled his eyes at Stephanie but smiled widely at Kate, pulling away from Anthony to extend his arms out toward her. 

"My darling wife." He greeted warmly, coiling his arms around her waist and planting a kiss between her brows. Kate hummed softly, leaning her head down to rest it on his shoulder. Stephanie stopped at Anthony's side, taking a quick look over his clothes before nodding approvingly and curling her arm around his. 

"Shall we get to it? Breakfast is ready and Violet has been fretting over Francesca nonstop. She's worried about the poor girl." Stephanie told them and Anthony sighed heavily, leaning over to kiss (Y/N)'s temple and nod to Kate. The Viscount and Viscountess fell into conversation and exited the room, leaving Kate and (Y/N) alone. 

"So, my darling husband," Kate began with a small laugh, lifting her head and smoothing out his shirt with her palms, her keen eyes searching for anything out of place before rising to look him in the eye. She smiled, pecking his cheek. "We have a long day ahead of us, as you know. Ready for this social season?"

"As long as I have you and Anthony and Steph, I'll always be ready."

An Unwanted Marriage (Marcus Acacius x Female OC)

Chapter 1: The Birth of Cassandra Gracchus

Summary: General Marcus Acacias, misled by lies about his shy, bookish wife, treats their arranged marriage with cold disdain. Despite her quiet efforts to connect, his harshness drives her to retreat. When he uncovers the truth about her father’s deception, Marcus must confront his guilt and choose between repairing their bond or letting pride destroy it. A/N: This is just a modified version of the full summary which is available to read on the Masterlist

Warning(s): Mentions of childbirth and death

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ao3

"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." – Marcus Aurelius

The grand estate of Senator Gracchus had been bustling with excitement in the days leading up to the birth of his first child. The news had spread quickly across Rome—the senator’s wife was going to bring a new life into the world, a child that would be celebrated as a symbol of his legacy. Yet, that celebration would never come.

Inside the birthing room, all was chaos.

“Doctor! Help her!” Senator Gracchus’ voice thundered, panic thick in his words. His normally composed demeanor had shattered, replaced by frantic energy as he paced beside his wife’s bed.

Antonia, his wife, had been in labor for hours. Her cries of pain echoed through the marble halls, but something was wrong. The doctors, gathered around the bed, exchanged nervous glances. They had hoped for a smooth delivery, but now they feared the worst.

“Push, madam! Push!” one of the doctors commanded, his hands steady but his voice strained. He tried to reassure her, but it was clear that time was running out.

Antonia, drenched in sweat, gripped the sides of the bed, her face contorted in agony. “I can’t… it hurts…” she gasped.

Senator Gracchus, normally unshaken, now loomed over her, his face tight with worry. His fists were clenched, his entire body vibrating with fear as he leaned in close to her ear.

“You must, Antonia. For the child. Please.”

The room held its breath as she pushed once more. There was a sickening pause.

The baby emerged into the world, lifeless.

The silence in the room was suffocating. No cry. No sound of life.

“Why isn’t she crying?” Gracchus shouted, his voice rising in terror. He turned to the doctors, his voice barely controlled. “Why isn’t she crying?!”

The lead doctor immediately moved toward the baby, his hands deftly performing chest compressions, trying desperately to coax the infant to breathe. “Come on, little one,” he muttered, his voice a soft prayer, “please.”

The tension in the room felt unbearable, every second stretching into eternity. Senator Gracchus could barely look at the scene before him. His wife, pale and trembling, lay motionless, blood staining the sheets beneath her. Her chest rose and fell weakly, but she wasn’t responding.

“Doctor, what’s happening to her?!” Gracchus demanded, his voice breaking. His heart was in his throat.

The doctor did not answer immediately, his hands working quickly. Then, finally, he looked up with grim realization. “Senator, there’s too much blood loss. Her heart is failing.”

“No!” Gracchus cried out, stepping closer to his wife’s side. “No, please, you can’t take her from me now! She can’t die. She just can’t!”

But Antonia’s blood continued to flow, a river that would not stop. The room became a blur of movement, the sounds of the doctor’s desperate instructions to the others blending with Gracchus’ frantic cries.

Then, just as hope seemed to slip away, a small sound broke through the tension—the tiniest of breaths from the newborn. The baby gasped for air, and then another, a soft cry.

The doctor stopped his compressions, his eyes wide in surprise. “She’s alive… the child is alive!” he said, relief flooding his voice.

Gracchus, shaking with emotion, looked down at the newborn in the doctor’s arms. She was so small, her fragile cries filling the room with life. He had forgotten to breathe for a moment, his body tense with the mix of relief and horror.

But his wife, Antonia, did not stir. Her hand, once warm, was now cold. Her lips were ashen. Gracchus turned to her again, his voice catching in his throat. “Antonia? Please… don’t leave me.”

It was too late.

The child was alive, but her mother… her mother was gone. The room fell into a stunned, sorrowful silence. Gracchus stood there, paralyzed by grief, as the newborn was gently placed into his arms.

The babe, still fragile, let out another tiny wail, but all Gracchus could do was stare down at her, his heart shattered in two. This child, this little girl, was his heir—but she was also a reminder of everything lost in that moment.

A mother was gone, and with her, a piece of his soul.

“She’s Cassandra,” Gracchus whispered, his voice hoarse with the weight of sorrow. “Cassandra Gracchus.”

As the hours passed, the estate that had been prepared for celebration now stood in mourning. A birth that should have been the beginning of something bright had instead marked a tragic end.

And as Gracchus looked down at his daughter’s innocent face, his heart hardened into something cold. He would raise this child, but she would never fill the emptiness his wife left behind. She would be a symbol of loss, a reminder of the cost of life.

In that moment, as he gazed into the eyes of the newborn, Gracchus swore that he would never allow her to forget the price she had paid for her existence.

Merlin AU

FEM! OC | Imagine Headcannon

Imagine if Merlin and Arthur knew each other before Season 1. Imagine if Uther, Arthur's father, and Igraine, Arthur's father, were friends with Merlin's parents Balinor and Hunith, before the Great Purge and before Uther band all magic practices. What if when Merlin comes to Camelot and after he saves Arthur he finds out that he and Arthur's parents were once friends and that he was betrothed to Arthur by their parents.

What if Merlin and Arthur became married and were actually in love with one another?

(Arthur is 2 years older than Merlin. In S1 of the show, Merlin is 17 years old and Arthur is 20 years old.)

Merlin came 2 years prior to season 1 and married him.

Merlin was 17 when he married 20-year-old Arthur Pendragon.

They are actually both in love with each other (#merthur). Merlin is still born with magic and is still Emerys. Arthur knows that he has Magic.

Instead of Merlin coming to Camelot in Season 1 it is Elizabeth James (OC). She was born to a Sorceror/Dragon Lord and a farmer's daughter two towns/villages east of the town Merlin grew up in, Ealdor. The town's name was Ambonisa. Gaius is Elizabeth's mother's half-brother, making him her uncle.

*Basically Elizabeth James replaces Merlin as a servant and Merlin replaces Qwenievere as Arthur’s love interest and Queen. (I know Arthur and Gwen don't get together or married till like S3, but I think this is a great story idea. Especially to all the fans of the BBC Merlin series who ship Arthur and Merlin together. I know I certainly ship Arthur and Merlin)*

A/N: The idea for this story came to me while watching Merthur TikTok. I ship Merthur all the way. Best ship in the whole series. Also the GIF images are not mine. Credit to whoever made these GIF's they are amazing