Chapter Text
Hold Me Deep [Beneath Your Waves]
Claudia stood on the loggia, drawing her palla closer around her head and shoulders as she observed the furious onslaught of rain. No doubt the waters of Portus raged where her husband’s fleet was moored. Husband. Yet she could not openly claim him so. Not that she wanted to acknowledge the vows she’d so reluctantly sworn. Like the common soldiers he commanded, she had to obey his orders whether as widow, whore or wife. Such titles meant little to her now, whether illustrious or insult, not after losing so much.
Despite Marcus’s grave exterior, he was not a man who understood the meaning of caution. He had married her out of hand, swiftly and secretly, without bothering to consider the consequences. In vain, Claudia had tried as usual to counsel warning. That was always as far as she dared to go in terms of showing defiance. She had hesitantly placed her hand on his arm, careful to keep her tone gentle, but Marcus had still gone ahead with the marriage arrangements. Such an act would be observed as treasonous, costing them both their heads if it became known. His recklessness had come as a great shock to Claudia, not understanding his perspective for he was behaving like a callow youth, and not a seasoned man of strategy.
It was not the first time Claudia had been forced to quietly advise prudence. But it had always been regarding his temper, not his sense of judgment. Marcus was swift to anger, compelling Claudia to employ sweet smiles and honeyed words to cajole him into common sense. Surprisingly, he tried to heed her on these occasions, even as she been little better than his chattel at the time. After all, she had been presented to Marcus as a prize of war; Claudia arrayed like a common harlot, a stark reminder of her new status. It had been an exercise in degradation, the emperors amused at seeing her brought so low; she, a princess of Rome and the granddaughter of Marcus Aurelius. But she had borne the humiliation for the sake of her family, prepared to do anything to keep them safe.
Away from the prying eyes of the Empire, Claudia had been treated gently and with honour, accorded every respect. Marcus had not lain one finger upon her, not even when forced to share the same bed, turning his back on her night after night. In public, Marcus had merely ignored her, seemingly oblivious to the lewd remarks levelled at her expense. But she could tell by the tense cast of his shoulders he heard every word, his hand often resting upon the pommel of his sword. The emperors had soon started to notice his telling silences, giving him askance glances and whispering to one another behind their beringed hands.
That was when Claudia had then first dared to risk advising Marcus to conceal his anger better. Being of the patrician class, Claudia had learned from a young age Roman society was little better than a snare of serpents. It was judicious to be discreet and keep your own counsel. From then on, Marcus had continued to try but barely cloak his rage. Yet now all wisdom seemed to have fled on wings from him, risking everything to put an iron ring on her finger that she could not even openly wear. And all for what? Not her body or the sake of a son. He still turned his back on her night after night. Nor did he seem to particularly seek her company or conversation in general.
The only explanation Claudia could possible countenance was that it was a matter of conscience on his part. If she had been of plebeian origins, it would have been a different matter. But she was of exalted lineage and thus no common whore to be cast aside despite her downfall. Therein perhaps lay the crux of the problem. Marcus was a man of honour who lived by a strict code and her complicated presence had no doubt disrupted his ordered existence. Perhaps taking her to wife had been the only way to make peace with himself, as well as take back control.
“You should not be out here,” Marcus suddenly said from the archway behind her, startling Claudia. “You will catch your death.”
Claudia recovered herself, exhaling sharply. “Those about to die,” she then said cryptically, tilting her head back as he came forwards, looming over her. “We are all doomed, General, whether by rain or sword.”
Marcus merely raised his eyebrows, seemingly amused, the expression foreign on his usually stoic features. Wordlessly, he reached out to wind one of her crimped curls around his finger, before letting it rebound back into its original coil of ebony. He glanced down, only to catch Claudia frowning beneath the shade of her palla, clearly taken aback his uncharacteristic levity. Abruptly, he turned away from her, facing the storming heavens instead. Once again, he had acted without thinking. He knew it was a weakness on his part, yet following his instincts had always proven fortuitous on the battlefield. War or woman, it did not matter. He always intended to win. Yet such logic abandoned him when he looked upon Claudia’s face, leaving him at a loss.
He had first beheld Claudia ten years ago on the occasion of her wedding after returning from yet another war. Upon seeing her serene blue gaze framed by veils of silver and blue, Marcus realised too late this was the woman he desired to lead his household and bear his children. But she’d belonged to another man. Haunted by the memory of her, he had long refused to marry, taking the battlefield as his bride instead. Now he finally had what he wanted, but he did not want Claudia under such circumstances, or against her will. Seeing her reduced to the spoils of war had left him writhing. The emperors had insulted him with such an act, but now he wondered if that had been the point. He had no desire to dishonour such a daughter of Rome. Or any ordinary woman at that. In amorous matters, he usually kept company with courtesans and the like, each party understanding such arrangements. But those days were behind him now, ever since the moment he had carried Claudia in his arms over the threshold of his bedroom chambers.
Lost in thought, Marcus did not see Claudia trying to edge past him, her head bowed as she clasped her palla around her. Frowning, he suddenly made to leave, only to collide with Claudia. With a gasp, she reeled back, palla slipping from her head. On impulse, Marcus grabbed her by the elbows, steadying her. For a long moment, he held her troubled gaze, his heart beating like the rain. She was still out of his reach despite being all but in his arms. Unbidden, he remembered the secret joining of their hands when they’d wed. Then he abruptly let go of her, before turning on his heel and leaving. There was no victory to be found here.