For the Sake of an Empire Ch. 09

The following is a complete work of fiction inspired by Roman history, with a strong fantasy aspect for the use of artistic license. For those who wrote to me about this series regarding its lack of overly explicit sexual content, I will state for your peace of mind that it is NOT a stroke story. If that interests you, you'd be better off reading something else. Please note that this chapter switches back and forth between reality and a dream sequence. It was confusing to write so readers could understand the switch back and forth between what Marcus is dreaming and what is actually happening as Portia seduces him in his sleep, so I tried to put the dream portions in italics. Hopefully it works out since this is the chapter so many waited for! Portia and Marcus! Side note-someone once mentioned Portia is the type of character you love or hate because she is at times vulnerable and other points despicable...I wrote this chapter with that person in mind!_

Disclaimer:

The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission.

Important - Please feel free to send any feedback or comments through PM or you email me. I appreciate you taking two seconds to vote and leave a comment. And as always thanks to the people who have continued asking for this story and inspired me to do so. Sorry it's taken so long but I am on winter break so hope to finish cranking this and a few other outs. Thanks again!

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"Lord Aurelius!"

Gentle tones leapt into alarm as Marcus entered Portia's rooms, her body limp in his arms. The servant girl at the window hurried over, wringing her hands together. She had heard the rumors of Portia's disappearance. The guards had alerted them all when they had hoarded them into various rooms, questioning their motives and their loyalties to the throne.

Chloe had felt sick, her stomach churning as she recalled her earlier conversation with Mara. For a brief moment she had wondered if she had been betrayed. She had been allowed to go after only a short time, but some doubt remained in her mind. She was sure the seeds of mistrust had been sown in the hearts of others as well. The country of her birth, where her heart had once rested so peacefully, was being torn apart. Only one man had the ability to bring peace and he could not see his own worth.

"You're bleeding...My lady!"

"The blood is not mine, Chloe," Marcus assured her, trying to calm the panic in her eyes as she rushed to his side. "It belongs to..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as he shook his head. "I suffered only a minor injury to my arm. It needs to be washed and dressed but there is time for that. Your lady is in greater need of your assistance."

"What happened to her?"

"She was abducted by Captain Sirrus. I can say no more at this moment but rest easy tonight knowing you are safe. Please bring a basin of warm water and clean linens to tend to my cousin's injuries."

As the sound of Chloe's sandals skittered away, Marcus adjusted Portia's weight in his arms. Her lashes looked like crescents of ebony on her pale cheeks, marred by the bruises that were already beginning to form. She had slipped into unconsciousness when her shoulder had been crudely reset on the cliffs, the pain and fatigue keeping her in blissful oblivion on their return to the palace. He had allowed her to sleep though he had informed his men that she was not to be left unsupervised at any time. There would be guards posted at her door every moment of the day and reports were to be given to him at the end of each rotation.

He had placed Magnus in charge, knowing that he needed as much a distraction as he himself did to focus on something other than the loss they had suffered. Felix had been their leader and their friend. His death was one that was felt as deeply by every man in his unit as by himself and he knew that had Sirrus's life not ended on those cliffs, it would still have ended tonight before the Council could intervene.

Marcus exhaled heavily as he laid Portia down on her silken bed carefully, uncurling her arm from around his neck. She murmured in her sleep before curling on her side in the fetal position like a child. She looked innocent in repose, incapable of the atrocities Sirrus had accused her of.

And yet I heard him so clearly. He solidified my suspicions. How could you have done it, Portia? How did you dare to steal from me the men I most trusted in this world with your treason?

Marcus glanced up when he felt a tentative touch to his arm, having forgotten Chloe was there. Her eyes widened as she looked at her fingers, the tips stained with Felix's blood. Her breathing quickened and Marcus caught her chin gently with his hand to focus her.

"Tend to your lady, Chloe. She was misused tonight and needs to rest. She has been given some opium for the pain so she should sleep through the night. I have my men posted outside of her door. If you need something, they are at your disposal."

"Are you sure you do not wish me to tend to you, Lord Aurelius? You look as if you have been ill used yourself."

"No. I am fine, thank you. Have a good evening."

"General Aurelius?"

Her voice stopped him at the door. He turned, watching her fidget for a moment as if she regretted her decision to call him back. "What is it, Chloe? Speak freely. I will not chastise you for fear. We are all aware of that emotion tonight."

"I.." She paused, her eyes imploring as she looked up at him then quickly to her feet. Her skin r where she wrung her hands together. "They say that you have returned home to take the throne...that you are going to become our King. Is it so?" Her eyes lifted to his again, dark eyes widening. "Forgive my impudence for speaking so openly, but please tell me if it is so, lord Aurelius. Since the death of the king we..." she caught herself. "This is a different place. We need you so."

She didn't elaborate but he understood the words that remained unspoken. She needed the answer they all did, the answer that he had yet to find in himself. He knew what it was, but he could not yet look at it for fear that he would be unable to deny it if he confronted it face on.

He had to take the throne. If he did not, Portia would and the country would fall. Everything that his uncle had built, everything that he had defended, everything Felix had died for, it would all be for nothing if he turned his back on the city now.

He did not want the throne anymore now than he ever had, but he had to.

All for the sake of the empire.

When he didn't answer, he saw the hope in her eyes dwindle slowly, like a flame exposed too long to a strong breeze. Yet one ember remained, struggling to overcome against the darkness she saw in his face. She bowed slowly then moved away leaving him to wonder if that ember could survive the night.

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It had taken Marcus forever to find the reprieve of sleep. Insomnia had haunted him for hours, the rest he sought elusive even after the floor of his bedchamber was littered with empty wine flasks. He had wanted to know nothing more of the night till dawn broke over the city walls, forcing him to face the stained uniform he had thrown at the foot of the bed and the dark innocuous stains that would blaze red in the sun.

His sword had been left propped against the wall instead of cleaned and sheathed as it normally was. He had been governed by discipline for most of his life but tonight he wanted none of it. Tomorrow he would have to face the destiny that he had run from for so many years but this night he wanted to find comfort in the ignorance of sleep.

It had been years since he had been able to. The life of soldier permitted few luxuries, the role of a Celaenian general even fewer. It was rare when he permitted himself to indulge in excessive drink because it slowed the reflexes and muddled the mind, two things that could equate death in the battlefield. But death had already come to call on him twice in one night. He did not fear a third visit. Yet e had yet to find peace. His nude body kept tossing and turning against the silken sheets, knotting them around his muscled limbs. The light breeze coming in through the open windows fluttered the silk drapes but could not cool the perspiration that broke out over his skin.

He was dreaming of a sparse, barren landscape, looking up at the crest if a hill. The sun was beginning to set, setting the hills ablaze with color. His hand came up over his eyes to block the rays, squinting against the brightness to make out the four figures standing there, hand in hand. He knew them but could not find their names though they had once been so familiar. It was as if his mind had gone blank, tormenting him what he most wanted and now could not have when it was offered

Grains of sand abraded his cheeks as wind swept through the landscape abruptly, swirling tunnels around him, making it more difficult to see through the transparent wall which stung his eyes. Both arms were thrown up to protect his face and cheeks though the sand was vicious, leaving any exposed skin chafed and raw. He could hear whispers in the wind, tossed among the dunes each time he tried to focus in.

The wind abruptly died down, the whispers becoming screaming voices in his head, all clamoring for his attention. He dropped to his knees, both hands pressed tightly over his ears to attempt to drown out some of the sound. The voices were as clear as the figures that now came into focus, watching him from the crest of the hill. He couldn't see their faces clearly, but he knew them. He could feel their emotions; their pain, their disappointment and their love all jumbled together.

His Uncle, Felix, his son and Aurelia.

He couldn't see their lips move from this distance, but he heard them. Their voices lowered, coaxing so each was as clear as the next, the sound more painful than the shrieks they had been because their words were clear.

Be the man that you are meant to be, my love.

Take the throne, Marcus, my son.

Avenge my death, father, please.

Do not shame our memories with cowardice, Marcus."

Marcus our deaths were not your fault. Do not break my heart by harming yourself this way.

She cannot be trusted, Marcus. She is not what she seems.

Father, come play with us in the gardens.

You do not have the luxury of losing yourself in your grief, Marcus.

Marcus's s body strained as his dream darkened. His teeth ground together, trying to escape from the pain that his dreams brought him. He had sought relief but found only torture.

"Enough! What would you have me do?"

Be the man that you are meant to be, my love.

Take the throne, Marcus, my son.

Avenge my death, father, please.

Do not shame our memories with cowardice, Marcus."

Marcus our deaths were not your fault. Do not break my heart by harming yourself this way.

She cannot be trusted, Marcus. She is not what she seems.

Father, come play with us in the gardens.

You do not have the luxury of losing yourself in your grief, Marcus.

His hands tightened over his ears, forehead touching the sand as he bent over. The voices kept repeating their words over and over, the tones and pitch of sound arcing until they became a shriek louder the wind. His eyes watered, a thin trickle of blood dribbling from his left nostril, metallic as it pooled in the corner of his mouth.

As he watched, a shadow appeared, widening and spreading up over the hills like an angel of death. It crept over the barren desert slowly, sweeping over the rocks and obscuring everything it touched beneath an empty darkness. His Uncle was the first to disappear, those gray eyes flashing disappointment. He was followed by Felix who turned his back on him and took his son with him, the little boy's hand flashing once as he waved goodbye.

Marcus shouted for them to stop. He stumbled to his feet and tried to follow them, but his legs had become as solid as the craggy surfaces of rock surrounding him, condemning him to watch the people he had failed leave him again. Once more he had been unable to do right by them, unable to give them peace and ensuring he himself would never find it either. He cursed the Gods, his eyes closed as he strained against the invisible force that held him back. Their voices faded slowly, barely a memory.

A gentle touch to his jaw made his body stiffen. He knew her scent before he even opened his eyes, the softness of her skin ingrained into his memory as was the touch that had always been uniquely hers. He had had other women in his, their bodies soft and welcoming. But only one had ever made his heart beat with the quickness of a dragonfly's wings and brought him a peace that swept over him like the warmth of blanket.

His jaw ticked, disbelief rendering him numb as she smiled up at him, her fingers gentle tracing the old scar that ran along the underside of his jaw. He saw her, but he knew that it wasn't real. It was a trick of the sun and the sand, an illusion that had come to haunt him just as the others had. His pupils dilated till the gray was almost obscured, her own eyes narrowing in confusion as he caught her wrist, pulling it from his face.

"Aurelia," he breathed. "No... this cannot be."

Her smile faltered as his grip tightened on the fragile bones of her wrist. She was as delicately built as a bird, her eyes large and as deep as dark pools. Her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders, the ends dragging in the sand around them. It all seemed so real, down to the smallest flutter of the hem of her gown. He knew it wasn't. She wasn't warm willing flesh anymore. She was dust, as dray as the sand covering the desert around them.

"I saw your body. I... I buried you beneath the willow tree on the hill. The one..."

"Where we first met," she finished softly. "I know. I have one like it in the Gardens where we live...It's beautiful. Everything is green, always summer and light. There is no death there, no disease." She gently freed her hand from his, fingertips resting against the side of his face. "We are happy there most of the time. But when I feel your pain, it is like my own, lancing through my chest." Her expression softened as her hand slid down slowly, lying over his heart.

"This...it isn't real."

"For tonight it can be as real as you wish it, my love. The gods have given us this moment in the dream realm. They know you doubt yourself and they need you to be the man you once were. For everyone's sake."

"This is a dream. You are dead and the gods are nothing more than statues that cannot hear, see or feel. They are stone that people rely on for peace of mind, nothing more."

"They do hear, Marcus. They see all and they know all. Your cousin, Portia, she cannot be trusted. She was the one who ordered your Uncle's murder. She was responsible for the attempt on your life. She wants control of Celaenia and to give it to her would ruin everything."

She paused. Strands of her hair, blew around her as if she was caught in a breeze, but he did not feel the wind himself. He felt nothing except the emptiness inside of himself, reflected in the landscape. He shook his head, one hand moving over the short stubble covering his skull. It felt as dry as the rock beneath his feet, as dead as the women in front of him.

"What can a dream know?"

"Dreams tell us many things about ourselves, Marcus. They are used as the means to teach us about life and death and the parts of our own souls that we are too afraid to look into. Marcus," she murmured, "You know what I say is true. If you allow her to take the throne, everything you have worked for, everything you have protected in your life will be for naught. You cannot allow that to happen."

"Hasn't it already?"

When she didn't answer he felt his lips curve into a smile with no humor. Her hand slipped from his face as he shifted, finding himself able to move again. He could feel her at his back though she did not touch him.

"I failed, Aurelia. I failed Felix. I failed my uncle and I failed you."

"You are not responsible for my death or theirs. Our lives ended because of a twist in the threads of life that the weavers created. You are only the instrument of fate and of the gods, Marcus. You yourself are not one of them. You cannot keep blaming yourself. It is poisoning your soul and it disturbs our peace in the Eternal Gardens. For our sake and for yours you must accept your own fate."

"And what if I do not?"

He swallowed hard as her hand touched the middle of his spine gently, trailing around as she moved to face him. Her hands came up to cradle his face gently, her lips brushing his jaw as she stood on tiptoe. "Then I will be lost to you forever because you will not be the man I loved since the moment I saw him." Her forehead rested against his as he leaned down, his hands sliding to her hips, thumbs resting in the gentle indentation of her waist.

"I want to remain with you. So many nights I dreamt of this moment and now that it is being given to me, I do not want it to end. I want to stay with you, with our soon. I do not want the memory of who I was to haunt my steps any longer with its shadows. I want to be the man that I was once."

"Then forgive yourself. We cannot guide you if you do not allow us to. Forgive yourself, Marcus" she murmured. "We already have..."

Marcus moaned in his sleep and Portia's breath caught. She tensed against the wall, her hair tumbled around a face that was pale with fear and fatigue. She had woken only a few hours earlier but had been unable to leave her room because of her handmaiden's insistence that she rest. She had feigned sleep, waiting till Chloe's eyes grew heavy before she had slipped out of bed and moved into the secret passages hidden behind a tapestry in her bathing chamber.

Sirrus and the guards knew of the ones in her main living chamber. She had made those public knowledge in the event of an invasion in the city, but only she and the architect she had commissioned knew of the one that led from her room through a maze-like catacomb to Marcus's room, and of the other half dozen tunnels that she had requested be added on to give her access throughout the palace when she needed to move beneath a clock of anonymity.

She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a long moment before she began to move to where Marcus slept. She had seen his face in her dreams, not mocking her as did so many times during his waking hours. He had had been calling to her, welcoming her to his side to offer his strength and his sword as he had tonight when she had thought herself lost. He had defended her against Sirrus, naming himself her champion and her consort even if he did not realize it himself.

She moved towards his side slowly, careful not to wake him from the dreams that seemed to offer him more torment than reprieve. He was sprawled heavily across the mattress, most of the covers twisted into a pile on the floor. Her gaze slowly traced the sun darkened length of his bare limbs that peeked through the sheer white material draped from the four posters. It had been a special commission because its lavishness had appealed to her, but now it seemed to silly and feminine a place for Marcus to rest.

The wooden posters seemed frail compared to the strength visible in his own arms and legs even at rest, his body the disciplined perfection of a soldier, not the portliness of a courtier. She stood quietly for a moment, resting her head against the wooden post, one hand resting just below her chin. The other curled at her side, daring to touch nothing.

It was not the first time that she had seen the beauty of a man's nude body, but it was the imperfection of Marcus's that made her mouth go dry and desire flicker low in her belly like the birth of a flame. Both Cauis and Sirrus had been smooth skinned and leanly muscled with fine, almost delicate features. Marcus's body was a hard and unforgiving landscape of tanned, scarred muscle and a dark furring on his chest that tapered down into a thin trail down the length of his belly. Her cheeks flushed as she followed it to where it thickened again above that thick ridge of his masculinity. He was still soft, but even at rest he was more impressive than any of her past lovers.