"Horatius, look at you! You’re as beautiful as a flower," his mother would say, smiling as she gently tousled his hair.
Horatius beamed up at her, his eyes sparkling with innocence. "Mother, I want to be strong like Father," he replied, his voice filled with youthful determination.
Livia's smile faltered slightly. "Strength comes in many forms, my dear," she said softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes
Meanwhile, in the grand palace of Rome, Emperor Tiberius ruled with a capricious hand. His reign was marked by lavish excesses, artistic aspirations, and notorious cruelty. The people of Rome whispered tales of his madness.
"Tiberius, the people grow restless," his advisor warned.
"Let them whisper," Tiberius replied with a dismissive wave. "Their words are like the wind, easily forgotten."
Their worlds collided one fateful day when Tiberius, touring the city, spotted Horatius in the marketplace.
"Who is that?" Tiberius demanded, his eyes fixated on the boy.
"That is Horatius, my lord, a local lad known for his beauty," a guard answered.
"Bring him to the palace," Tiberius ordered, a strange gleam in his eye.
At the palace, Horatius stood trembling before Tiberius.
"Do not be afraid," Tiberius said, attempting a smile. "You remind me of someone dear to me."
Horatius looked up, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Who, my lord?"
"My beloved Bellona," Tiberius whispered, a hint of madness in his voice. "You shall take her place."
Tiberius’ command was unthinkable: Horatius was to be transformed into the image of Bellona. The eunuchs carried out the emperor’s orders, and Horatius’s life changed forever.
"He's waking up," murmured a grizzled healer, glancing at his colleagues with concern.
"The herbs should hold him," nodded a younger healer solemnly. "Let's finish quickly."
The older healer nodded, "Hold him steady," he instructed firmly yet gently.
Tiberius, caught in a haze of pain, heard fragments. "Please..." he managed to rasp, his voice barely audible.
"It's for your safety," the older healer murmured apologetically.
Tiberius, watching with cold detachment, interjected sharply, "Ensure the castration is thorough. No mistakes."
"S-Stop..." Horatius pleaded weakly, tears streaming down his face.
Tiberius' expression hardened. "It's necessary," he declared firmly.
"Stop..p-please...m-my lord...I..beg you"
In a twisted ceremony, Horatius was married to Tiberius. The court watched in a mix of horror and fascination.
"Doesn't he look beautiful?" Tiberius exclaimed, holding Horatius's hand. "My beloved Bellona has returned to me."
Horatius, dressed in fine silks and jewels, forced a smile, his heart heavy with dread for what was to come.
Horatius woke with tears streaming down his face, Tiberius stirred beside him, irritated. "What's this noise?"
Turning away, Horatius struggled to hide his tears. "I-y-your lordship-!"
Tiberius sat up, his voice sharp. "You knew what you signed up for. You're fortunate to be in my bed."
Silence stretched. Finally, Tiberius relented slightly. "Dry your tears. You knew your place."
Tiberius’ affection was as consuming as it was terrifying. At night, in the opulent chambers, he would confide in Horatius, his voice laced with both tenderness and menace.One evening, after a lavish feast, Tiberius seemed particularly gentle. They sat together, and Tiberius stroked Horatius's hair, his touch surprisingly tender.
"Do you know," Tiberius began softly, "sometimes I see Bellona in you so clearly that it breaks my heart."
Horatius, tears welling in his eyes, whispered, "I wish to be whatever brings you peace, my lord."
But Tiberius’s mood could shift in an instant. The next day, enraged by a minor court intrigue, he lashed out at Horatius.
"You are all liars!" Tiberius screamed, throwing a goblet across the room. "Even you, Horatius,! You conspire against me!"
"My lord, I would never," Horatius cried, shrinking away.
Tiberius's face twisted with fury. "You belong to me! Do not forget it!
Horatius, nursing his bruises in the silence of the night could be seen chanting to himself, "I can survive him. I can survive him."
In moments of rare clarity, Tiberius would weep in Horatius's arms, a broken man haunted by his own actions.
"Am I a monster, Horatius?" Tiberius would ask, tears streaming down his face.
Horatius, his heart aching with a mix of pity and sorrow, would reply, "You are lost, my lord. But you are not beyond redemption."
On darker nights, Tiberius’ temper would emerged fully. In fits of rage over perceived slights, he would struck Horatius.
"You are mine!" Tiberius screamed, his face contorted with fury. "You will always be mine!"
i..can...survive...i..ca..n..survive...I..can..surv.ive...I..ca..n..Sur..vive..i..can...survive...i..ca..n..survive...I..can..surv.ive...I..ca..n..Sur..vive
As Tiberius’ reign grew more tyrannical, Rome began to crumble under the weight of his despotic rule. Rebellions sparked, and the once-mighty emperor found his power slipping through his fingers.
"Horatius, do you think they hate me?" Tiberius asked one night, his voice fragile.
Horatius looked at him, a mixture of pity and fear in his eyes. "I think they do not understand you, my lord."
"And you? Do you understand me?" Tiberius' gaze was intense, desperate.
"I try to, my lord," Horatius replied softly, knowing that any other answer could mean his death.
Tiberius’ paranoia grew, and his actions became increasingly erratic. Horatius witnessed the emperor’s descent into madness.
"Kill them all!" Tiberius ordered one day, his eyes wild. "Anyone who speaks against me must die!"
Horatius shuddered, the weight of the emperor's cruelty pressing down on him. "This is not right," he whispered to himself, feeling the world closing in on himself.
In the chaos of Tiberius’s downfall, Horatius remained a silent witness to the disintegration of an empire. He had seen the emperor’s moments of vulnerability and his darkest cruelties. Tiberius’s end came swiftly. Fleeing the wrath of his enemies, he took his own life and Horatius watched with empty eyes as Tiberius bleed to death calling for Bellona again and again.