Daughter of Rome

A Story by Gaia Octavia

Daughter of Rome

Julia stepped into the darkened room and made her way to the desk where an aged man sat. One would never guess by looking at him " his shoulders bent in resignation " that he was emperor of the entire known world. Julia sat down across from him and held her breath, waiting for his rage to begin. The man simply sat there, breathing in a slow, steady gait; the shakiness of his drawn breaths the only sign of his emotion.

“Pater,” Julia breathed, finally raising her eyes to meet her father’s steady blue gaze, “I know you are angry with me, but I refuse to be ruled by that evil woman. If you would just listen to me "”

The man, instantly angered by her words, slammed his hand on the table and growled, “ENOUGH!”

Julia jumped at his sudden (though expected) rage and cast her eyes down in mock shame.

The room stayed unnervingly silent for a few moments, the slaves in the corners of the room pretending not to listen to their conversation. Julia swallowed and began again.

“Father, surely you must know that I could not be guilty of the acts I am accused of.”

The man behind the table ran his hands through his curly light brown hair and spoke in a saddened, wistful tone as if he were already speaking at her funeral.

“I don’t know what you are capable of anymore, Julia. I do not know you as I used to.”

Julia’s own heated temper surged through her at his words.

“And whose fault is that, oh mighty Augustus?”

Her father’s head snapped up and his eyes, blue as the Aegean Sea, looked so directly at her that she felt them burrow deep within her soul, stripping her bare of all her false bravado.

“I will not defend my choice to live for Rome. I am your father and it is my word that is law, emperor or not. You have wounded me as no other has ever been equipped to do so. I am the Father of Rome -”

“You are my father!” Julia screamed, tired of sharing him with the entire world.

The man stood up at last, reaching out to grab his daughter, goaded into physical action. But Julia was too quick and had stood and retreated back a few steps before he could grab ahold of her.

“You are a daughter of Rome! For the love of the Gods, girl, I am through with this endless quarrel! I live for Rome as any Roman should. As any worthwhile Roman would. I have preached family values, moral cleansing, and modesty only to have my own daughter caught participating in a repulsive orgy within mere pes of Athena’s temple…my own daughter branded a w***e.”

“Livia is the w***e. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about "”

Julia could see that she had crossed an unwritten boundary. Her father reached across the endless space between them as if to strike her, hesitating before grabbing at her neck instead - as if to wring out the very life he gave her - before allowing his hands to fall defeated at his side. Julia had never seen her father so angry. It was clear that her stepmother’s hold over him was far too strong to win this fight. She just hoped her mouth wouldn’t get her into further trouble as it was.

“Caesaris!” her father bellowed, removing his body from within reach of his only flesh and blood, his beloved daughter.

As they waited for the slave to appear her father slowly sat back down at his desk and closed his eyes. Julia felt a small stab of regret, wishing her father didn’t look so old and tired, but she refused to cower to him as everyone else.

The slave Caesaris arrived and bowed low to her father.

“Caesaris, you are to take Julia straight from this room to the docks. You will deliver my daughter to the island of Pandetaria where she will remain without the company of any man for the rest of her natural life.”

His impassive speech betrayed the message’s gravity, and so it took a few moments for the knowledge to sink in to Julia’s mind that her father was placing her in strict exile.

“Surely father, you would need more evidence than the word of one woman who has never loved me to be moved to such extreme measures. Can’t you see this is all a ploy to leave Tiberius, her son, as the only choice of your successor?”

Her father stood and walked slowly towards Julia, stopping so that she had to strain her neck to look up in order to speak to him. From this view, the deep cleft under his chin was just visible; the one Julia remembered kissing each night as her young father bid her sweet dreams. She remembered how much she had loved to press her lips to the secret part of her father that belonged solely to her. She had the maddened thought of kissing him goodbye one last time, but her pride would never allow it.

Her pater, her father, stood above her. The man who had always adored his only child fought the maddening urge to sweep her up in his arms and tuck her safely in bed, forgiving any past errors. As he stood before Julia he caught sight of his wife, Livia, at the door and knew the foolishness of allowing his own love to blind him to what must be done for Rome.

He took one last look at his daughter, knowing he would regret this moment for the rest of his life, and remained emotionless as he quoted the Iliad.

"Would I were wifeless, or had childless died," he said before turning to walk away from both his daughter and his wife. For the first time in his life, Augustus wished he was walking away from Rome instead.

END.