The Mark of Rome

xxv / per aspera ad astra

I grieved for many months before I was blessed by the gods with another. My belly grew round and sizably bigger than it had with Adrian. Marius hoped for another boy; secretly, I hoped for a girl.

There was much to do and much to catch up on, yet I still held onto what I had lost. In every meeting and council, I felt preoccupied by thoughts of my family.

Marius and I handled our grieving differently. I spent many nights awake thinking of my babe. The guilt felt almost tangible in those moments. I imagined a green-eyed boy holding tight to Adrian's hand. I imagined soft brown curls and the pudgy legs of a healthy babe. I couldn't help myself in those moments. It didn't matter how much Marius denied any fault of mine in what had happened, I still felt as though that burden rested squarely on my shoulders.

Marius was sure that we would have many children. Though he grieved, it was not quite the same emotion that kept my heart weighed down. It couldn't have been. He would never know what it was to lose a child from his womb.

This baby was a blessing and a relief.

Marius was inconceivably happy and I held a steadfast determination to hold this babe in my arms. We regrouped and rebuilt on hope.

The camp had taken a hit. That was undoubted. The ranks had thinned and the men were in a questionable state as to their morale. Still, I walked the rows of tents and I felt a sense of unity in their struggle. Many had fallen ill; some had survived and some had not. Those that remained felt the pang of losing those they had cared deeply about.

Marcus wrote me with genuine relief and interest in my health. It was a small amusement to know that the emperor credited me with keeping Marius in step and in line.

Marius was more attentive than he had been and as it was true that he would never know the depth of loss that I felt, I would never know what it felt to stand on the brink of losing a partner. I knew he didn't mean to, but sometimes he looked at me or held me a little longer and with a little more intent than he had before. I didn't complain or pull away. I know he was still working through that trauma.

Adrian was a year old and Marius took great pride in his strong, little legs and his fickle moods. He was a sturdy baby with a temperament like his mother and Marius found it altogether amusing.

"He holds his head like an emperor. Does he not?"

"If he does, it's because he is your son. It's in his blood," I commented distractedly, rifling through the many correspondences that Marius received from Rome.

"No," Marius laughed. "The haughty, entitled attitude on that boy is completely yours. He's barely a year and he commands his caretakers as if he were a great ruler."

My hands stopped and I peered up at him ever so slowly. "Are you calling me haughty and entitled?"

Marius chuckled, but made no effort to take back his words. He was secure in our relationship, enough to tease me without fear of any true retribution. He offered his words like a commendation. "Like a great ruler."

I smiled at his bravery and candor. I scrunched my nose to feign amusement. Truthfully, I was amused. The familiarity was comforting and it was a moment in which I knew we had grown altogether comfortable with one another. Our sham of a marriage—or rather what had started as one—was almost a year older than our boy now. I couldn't imagine my life without either.

Marius came to press a kiss to my temple, lingering a few seconds to read over my shoulder. Adrian tottled about on his toes, which seemed a bit unsure of their own stability. His father scooped him up and listened to his vibrant laughter.