The night had fully settled in..
And the surrounding darkness seemed to swallow everything in its path—leaving behind an oppressive silence..
The usual rain of the season was absent tonight.
Still, the air remained damp and cold.
Plancina gazed into her speculum, her reflection, calm and composed—unusually so, for a wife whose husband was now imprisoned.
Nearby, an array of cosmetics lay scattered across the table—opened, used, and left unattended.
As if she couldn't care less about whether they were cleaned away or left to waste.
A typical behavior for a woman of her caliber.
She's a noble. It's what's expected of her.
Her fingers absently ran through her dark hair, the motion was habitual, her thoughts drifting far away from the present.
Four beeswax candles flickered in the room, their warm glow dancing against the cold night air.
A wasteful act. Well.. she's a noble! A noble!
The fire illuminated the smooth, rounded surface of the speculum, casting shadows that deepened the hollows of her pale face.
The soft flicker of the flames created sharp shadows beneath her high cheekbones.
It outlined the delicate curve of her neck, where her pulse fluttered, faint but constant.
She looked thinner in her dark stola than usual—though not from any physical ailment.
The weight of her thoughts pressed heavily upon her, not allowing her the ease of her usual grace.
Her shoulders were drawn inward, as though burdened by the very guilt that gnawed at her.
But still, she maintained the composure of a woman who had mastered her emotions.
'But guilt...? No..that was not what consumed her.'
She denied herself, shaking her head a bit.
No—guilt had never been a friend to her.
What consumed her now was fear.
'Yes! Yes.. fear did.'
Fear of being caught.
Fear of the consequences.
Fear that Sejanus would no longer turn his gaze toward her, once Plancina's role in this was completed.
She's not that naive.
'No, never.'
She continues to deny it.
Yes, she was the one who had poisoned Germanicus in Syria.
Yes, it had been Sejanus's orders.
And yes, it had been done out of a thirst for revenge.
She breathed in the cold air, mixed with the smoke coming from the candles.
"Whew"
They said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Even though it's been years, decades even…
But she could still feel it all—how she had loved Germanicus.
Her very first love, the one who had left an indelible mark upon her heart.
Even after all this time.
Plancina can still vividly picture Germanicus's image in her head.
She closed her eyes.
His blue eyes—piercing, and tempestuous, like a storm that could consume you with a single glance.
A look that could melt you, as if he could see straight into your soul. 'Hah!'
And that knowing glance—always the kind of look that made you think of things... like carnal things. 'Hnnnng!'
It made her blood stir. 'Nnnnmm!'
The soft long brown hair, which he would run his hands through when lost in thought.
His long, strong capable fingers... 'hah!'
His square jawline, lips full and inviting..., like they were meant to be kissed... 'hah!'
It made her want to sit on his lap, feel the warmth of his body, feel protected by his strong arms... 'hah!'
She opened her eyes, her gaze found her disheveled reflection in her speculum.
Emotions swirled in her brown eyes.
Plancina stopped herself mid-thought, feeling a slight wave of shame for fantasizing about a man who had been dead.
The ache was deep, but she couldn't stop it.
'How could she?'
She had done everything in her power to win him, to hold onto him.
To make him see her, feel her... to make him belong to her.
'But no, he wouldn't even look at her!'
She looked at her face in the speculum.
'I'm also beautiful..' Her face looks like it's about to cry.
His neck was stiff! He had never even gaze her way.
He did not behave as she had hoped..
.....
Suddenly, her face changed to an angry expression. Remembering a certain someone—Agrippina!
Once her best friend, now her rival—she swooped in and stole him from her. 'That harlot!'
Plancina clenched her jaw, her fingers digging into her hair as memories flooded back.
She had tried everything.
She had even spread lies, claiming to be one of his many lovers, though he had none and she was not.
All in a desperate bid to drive a wedge between him and Agrippina.
But it didn't work.
No matter how many whispers she fed the palatium corridors, no matter how much she painted herself as the victim, nothing worked.
Germanicus had been untouchable, unreachable. An illusion!
She's never even able to touch even a strand of his hair.
If it's like that...then, she'd rather have him dead than in her rival's arms.
'Yes, it has taken years, but so what?'
Finally, after everything, no one—not even Agrippina—had a grip on Germanicus.
'Not even in death!'
'You'll be forever in my memories, darling.' She thought, her lips curling into a sad, bittersweet smile as she kissed him goodbye... in her imagination.
How she imagined kissing Germanicus like this.
A hundred? A thousand? No a million times! 'Hah!'
She moistened her lips and imagined him kissing her passionately.
His capable fingers are dangerously close to her inner thigh, teasing her.
She bit her lip.
Suddenly she can feel a white hot fluid run down her thighs. It came out like a thief!
'Unnnnnn' She moaned.
Her fingers slowly caressed her inner thigh, a rhythm that matched her unsettled heartbeat.
She looked one more time in her speculum, and she stared at herself guiltily.
An act that she always does whenever she fantasizes about him.
It tasted bitter, but she knew that she could only have him in this way. In her imagination…
She takes her gaze off in her guilty reflection.
She tried to think of something else.
Then she only remembered that she had a husband waiting for her. 'Right..Piso..'
Now, she had another task waiting for her in the dungeon.
'Oh darling' She mused darkly, the smile still playing at the corners of her lips.
'Don't worry, you won't be lonely.' She hummed. 'I'll send you to my Germanicus soon...'
Then she smiled, sweetly, fondly, almost as if she were remembering him with affection.
She blew softly on the candle next to the speculum, her breath a soft, delicate exhale.
The flame trembled for a moment, then snuffed out with a sudden flicker, as though demonstrating how easy it is to snuff out a life.
The air filled with the warm, comforting scent of beeswax, thick and sweet, lingering in the silence like the memory of a kiss.
It was the same smell she remembered from that day—the day Germanicus died.
The day the future had been altered forever.
***********************************
The night had fully settled in...
Casting a damp, chilly gloom over the lamp-lit corridors of the palatium.
It was just raining earlier that morning, but the rain of the season is particularly absent that night.
Sejanus's sandals clicked sharply on the cold stone, the sound echoing down the empty hall.
TICK-TOCK
He looked calm and composed. But his thoughts?
It doesn't match the rhythmic beat of his footsteps.
'I can't believe that woman succeeded.'
Plancina. That woman.
He had never believed she was capable of pulling off something so delicate, so precise.
She was nothing more than a back up. She's not even in the list—his list of pawns.
She's added at the last minute. Her name scratched too.
Fragile, nervous—always shifting her gaze like she was ready to betray herself.
Dull. Mousey.
She's a footnote.
He had been skeptical at first, totally dismissing her as a potential ally.
She didn't look like a woman who could poison Germanicus. So he's not expecting this....
But now—
'A murderess? Pfft.'
He remembered toying with her, nudging her into doing exactly what he wanted.
Soft whispers of shared secrets, a bit of oil in her unused wheel..
Just one compliment...
He had watched her unravel, piece by piece, like a scroll being slowly unrolled before him.
And the next moment, he had her wrapped around his finger effortlessly.
And there it was, the control. The power was in his hands.
The way her body surrendered, her easy compliance bored him to death.
It was so easy. 'So simple, it was almost laughable.'
He chuckled to himself, the sound reverberating off the stone walls.
'Pffft. She thought she was clever now.. feeling proud of herself..'
His chest swelled with the warmth of smug satisfaction.
He was Sejanus—born a plebeian bastard, his father? A wealthy equestrian.
One night mistake. Raised by the streets.
He doesn't need his wealthy father.. No. He can get by just fine..
Thanks to his resourcefulness.
And now? He's clawing his way to the top.
Now, he was more than the blood in his veins—he was power personified.
He felt his pulse quicken with a dark hunger, knowing that nothing in this world would ever take him back to his old life.
Where the poor, the low-born had no right to wield influence or make choices.
He'd risen from that pit, fight tooth and nail, all while the so-called noble families mocked him, made bets about him.
They had looked down on him. But no more.
Now, he's the one looking down on them.. made them his own plaything.
TICK-TOCK
The air around him grew thick as he walked, the scent of polished stone mixing with the faint trace of burning incense from the throne room ahead.
The walls felt almost... alive, as if they were aware of his presence.
He took a slow breath and smiled to himself. 'Soon, everything would be mine.'
He felt it in his bones, like a fire burning steadily in the pit of his stomach.
The throne room awaited him, the culmination of his plans.
Tiberius was weak. Paranoid. The perfect puppet.
Sejanus had saved his life from an assassination attempt—a gesture that bound Tiberius to him long before he became the emperor.
'But it wasn't by chance.' No, it was planned. A test. A subtle maneuver to see if the old fool would fall for the ruse.
And fall he did.
It was a dry run for Augustus. A rehearsal.
He had tried to maneuver the dying emperor, but Augustus had been too sharp. Too aware. Too tensile.
But still—he'd won a single, precious round in that game. Fate helped him.
He had heard Augustus talking about his plans to put Germanicus as his successor—after he died.
Bypassing Tiberius. Now Sejanus's loyal pawn.
Germanicus. A beloved soldier. Capable. Dangerous.
Too dangerous for Sejanus. He's tired of those types.
So, what would Sejanus do? He schemed and played God.
He went to Tiberius and whispered in his ears.
'It was too easy.'
Tiberius relied on him, trusted him completely.
Every fear, every insecurity he had, Sejanus had used to his advantage.
'Pathetic.' He chuckled under his breath, relishing on how easily Tiberius had fallen into his trap.
He wrapped Tiberius's fears around his fingers like thread. Pulled gently. Tied knots.
Together, they plotted. Secrets shared in whispers, in shadows. That's how you control people: with secrets. With fear. With need.
Augustus died. Germanicus lived.
Unfortunately.
TICK-TOCK
They thought he'd perished from the Germania campaign.
But he came back unscathed. The weak Tiberius said to let him be.
But the people—oh, the people loved Germanicus.
Their cheers, their songs, their eyes turned toward him like he was already crowned.
Tiberius panicked. And who did he turn to?
'Sejanus.'
And Sejanus already had a solution forming.
He'd seen her—Plancina—lingering in Germanicus's shadow. Timid. Nervous. Eager to please.
He hadn't even planned to use her.
But he did.
And now Germanicus was dead.
Fate has intervened in their favor. Or rather, Sejanus had intervened. He smirked.
With Germanicus out of the way, everything had shifted.
All of it—the throne, the power—it was now his for the taking.
With Tiberius as his puppet.
He could feel the weight of his position pressing against him as he neared the throne room.
But it wasn't oppressive. No. It was... comfortable.
It was the weight of destiny.
Of control.
'I control this empire now. I'm the one who calls the shots.'
The thought made him feel like a king.
No—something more than an emperor. A god pulling strings behind the curtain.
This was more than cleverness. More than manipulation.
'This is power.' And he held it all in his hands.
Sejanus sneered at the thought of the so-called nobility—the imperial family.
They were nothing. Hollow names in old bloodlines.
He had walked over them, one by one. Used them. Played them like game pieces.
Every whispered favor, every false smile, every planted fear had been a step up the ladder.
And now? Now it was all paying off.
TICK-TOCK
'I'm never going back to my old life. Never again.'
'I'm Sejanus.' And the throne... will be mine.
His eyes gleamed with cold hunger as he reached the entrance to the throne room. He could already taste the victory.
'All of it will be mine,' he thought, savoring the words like wine. 'The throne. The empire. The power.'
He allowed himself a low chuckle, the sound barely audible in the stillness as he looked at Tiberius sitting on the golden throne.
'Heh. Am I making sense? Of course I am. This is my empire now.'
And when the time came—when he finally reached out and took what was his—
He would relish every moment of it.
'The throne will be mine.' He tilted his head a bit as he inspected the golden seat.
'All of it.'
Then he whistled.
'Phheeettt'.
***********************************
INDEX:
speculum - polished bronze surface, used as a mirror for nobles