This work is a piece of historical fiction. While inspired by real events, cultures, and practices of the first century, the story blends factual history with fictional characters, dramatizations, and creative interpretation.
It is not intended to promote, glorify, or encourage any illegal activities, substance use, or harmful behavior. All depictions of sensitive topics are included solely for narrative and historical context.
Reader discretion is advised.
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Far Shore
In the vacuity of the outer strata of Marvel's Multiverse, Aragorn, in his humanoid form, cackled loudly. Were it not for the absence of an atmosphere, his laughter would have created sonic booms. His presence pulsed with his laughter, though, creating a ripple-like effect that bent reality like wave motion does water.
After some time—as useless as the very concept might be in its absence—Aragorn ceased his fit of laughter and calmed down.
'Was it that funny?' A voice reached his soul as if Reality itself were speaking to him.
'KYAAAAAAH!' Aragorn cried, startled. 'Aniki, only you can sneak into my soul like that,' he said after an instant of recollection.
'That was not my purpose,' The One Above All replied.
'It's alright. I'm too used to the extrasensoriality of my eyes and senses. It's nice to feel normal occasionally,' Aragorn replied. He turned to the Crown of Creation, the location from which The One Above All was speaking to him, and then appeared inside it.
"It was hilarious," Aragorn said. "I imagined the faces my Therions would have made upon hearing Hela demanding their surrender on account of holding me hostage!"
"Mmm, yes, I can see how that's funny," The One Above All said with a chuckle.
"I think this is the strongest sense of hilarity I've felt ever since I became what I am," Aragorn said.
For a moment, both incomprehensible existences imagined the scene of a Goddess of Death holding Aragorn hostage and demanding surrender from the Therions.
"Come here. Let me show you what I've been working on," The One Above All beckoned Aragorn to his drawing desk.
Aragorn floated to him and peeked over his shoulder at the drawing in question.
"Is that... Selene?" Aragorn asked.
"Yes. Inadvertently, by allowing her to drink your blood, you created something within my Creation beyond my design," The One Above All's eyes shone in wonder with his words.
"I thought that wasn't possible. Isn't that part of the reason why I can't use my [Creation] within your domain? It doesn't fit your design, so it clashes with your domain?" Aragorn asked, his interest piqued.
"Yes, and omniscience has a way of ensuring everything is within my design. But this time... something new happened." The One Above All pointedly stared at the comic detailing Selene's future—or present, for these beings who exist beyond time—awakening from her cocoon. "To the known equation that is my Creation, your blood—the essence of your Void Soul—added an unknown.
"Immediately after, my design seamlessly found a way to include it within the Known. The result? A new species of vampires that exist nowhere, for nowhere else could your soul's essence be found.
"A Nexus Event should have been born from this. But since the Beyonders started their little 'prank', some holes in the multiverse have been appearing where the fallen realities once stood.
"These holes interfered with the propagation of the Nexus Event, so I redirected it to your so-called Earth-5H1N3, for convenience's sake. Instead of a Nexus Event, all that energy and causality retroactively changed the vampires of your world," The One Above All passed the page and showed Aragorn what he meant.
Instead of the usual story of vampires as creatures born from the Darkhold, the anchor of the Elder God Chthon to reality, in Earth-5H1N3 vampires were born due to a failed ritual of Selene during the era of the Roman Empire to ascend to godhood.
The failure of the ritual severed her connection to the race for which she was their progenitor and damaged her soul. The damage to her soul reached her mind, and Selene—just like a drunk mortal—wasn't able to form the memories concerning the event.
As a result, Selene never knew she was the progenitor of vampires, and the vampires never knew her as their progenitor. Chthon saw this as an opportunity and arranged for one of his cult followers, Vlad Drăculea, to use the Darkhold to bind the newly born bloodsuckers to him.
"This feels like a Retcon," Aragorn commented.
"Maybe this is what you know as a Retcon, though this is the first time I've done something like this," The One Above All replied.
"She settled for an interesting combination, didn't she?" Aragorn commented after reading about the 'specs' and 'stats' of the new vampires.
"I imagine the standard option would have been to rid the species of the weakness to light. Yet, she turned it into a control mechanism—a shackle to bind the species to her—which I believe is the smartest approach," The One Above All praised Selene's thinking.
"I'll tell her you approve," Aragorn chuckled. "I should be going, Aniki. Thank you for your help!"
"Excelsior," The One Above All said with a wave of his hand, his eyes joyfully reading Selene's comic.
"See you later, Aniki," Aragorn said before disappearing into an Astral Path.
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Earth-199999.
~2023 BE (Before Emergence) ~ 1 CE (Current Era).
A day had passed since the events of Aragorn's fit of laughter. Although the whole planet shook, volcanoes became active, hurricanes were born over the seas and oceans, icebergs overturned, the seas stirred, and mortals prayed to their deities, the damage done should be considered minimal for an event of such magnitude.
Aragorn—even while laughing hard enough to kill Hela—had some presence of mind not to destroy the planet in his joy.
This did not mean humanity was not terrified. As stated in immemorial records, 'when danger approaches, salvation can be found in the Obelisks of the eternal.' This teaching, as old as civilization, induced humans to seek the Obelisks when something like an apocalypse arrived.
Just like how a land animal seeks buoyant salvation in water, how an aquatic animal seeks liquid salvation on land, and how a child seeks their guardians when in danger, humanity knows to seek the Obelisks when salvation is needed and an Obelisk is within reach.
On the Halo's side, Hela—traumatized as her father after his last encounter with Aragorn—was returned—to not say sold—to Odin by Emma upon completion of the sale of Midgard's ownership rights. Odin, the father with a character no self-mutilating child could resist growing fond of, took the opportunity brought over by Hela's weakened mental state to seal her in Hel.
Death, who observed the denouement of this story, couldn't help but gaze at Odin frigidly. No matter the reality, whether by imprisoning his daughter, sacrificing his people for power, choosing Asgard over his newborn daughter, exiling his son while erasing his memories, or banishing his son due to unworthiness, there are a few traits all Odins share at some point in their lives.
Vanity, Pride, Coldness, Greed, and Battlelust. That is not to say they don't outgrow these traits—in many realities they do—and they become what they preach: the Protectors of the Nine Realms.
But to Death, none of this mattered. Her Hela and this Hela were both victims of Odin's Vanity to be seen as perfect by his subjects, Pride to not make amends for his mistakes, Greed to desire hegemony over the Nine Realms, Battlelust to carry his will, and the Coldness to take a toddler, see her in all of her adorableness, and decide to raise her as a weapon, only to discard her at the earliest sign of danger to his rule.
"Part of me wants to take all of these ugly feelings out on him. Another part of me wants to keep them bottled up for the Odin of our reality. What should I do, My Love?" Death asked from her vantage point as Odin completed the seal.
A pair of warm, strong arms, large hands, and a firm chest embraced Death from behind. "This one is not immortal like the one from our world. This one will soon walk into your realm, Noona. If you so desire it, I can escort him to you myself upon his death," Aragorn's baritone voice rang comfortably and warmly in her right ear.
Aragorn turned slightly to the left and planted a soft kiss on her neck.
"My Love, you can say such romantic verses. How is it that you always know what I want, need, or like to hear?" Death leaned back, nesting her weight comfortably on Aragorn, and tilted her head to the side just enough to grant Aragorn better access to her neck.
Aragorn flickered his long, forked tongue across her neck, then with deliberate movement sank his sharp canines into Death and sucked, not unlike Selene did to him for centuries.
"~Ahn, like so. I was dying to have you sink your fangs in my neck and suckle like a newborn does its mother," Death said while pushing with strength her rump against Aragorn's groin.
"I do to and for you what I love you doing to and for me," Aragorn replied through his telekinesis, his mouth busy with its pleasurable task.
"Can we take a short break and enjoy ourselves? Do we have the time?" Death asked while dragging her rump along Aragorn's length, her tail possessively curling around Aragorn's leg.
"Just a short break. Yahweh has a couple of last tasks for me, and Selene is not far from awakening—she is going to need me for some aftercare." With Aragorn's words, they found themselves in the depths of a familiar cave.
Bethany, Judea, 27 AD...
The sun was beginning its descent over the rolling hills of Judea, casting long amber shadows on the banks of the Jordan River.
The water flowed with the quiet rhythm of the era itself—ancient, unwavering. Along the muddy edge, John the Baptist stood in front of the attentive crowd. His eyes held undeniable conviction as he called out, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!"
People gathered in clusters along the riverbank—peasants, soldiers, priests, and sinners—some curious, some hopeful, all drawn by the strange call to cleanse their souls in the water.
One among them stood apart—not by appearance, but by presence. He moved in silence, for he had no need nor desire to make grandeur of himself.
John looked up and froze. Jesus of Nazareth stepped into the river.
Their eyes met. John hesitated. "I should be baptized by you… and yet you come to me?"
Jesus nodded gently. "Let it be so now; it is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness."
John relented. And so, in that sacred moment, he laid his hands on the head of the one he knew was more than man. Jesus descended beneath the surface—into the cool depths of the Jordan—and rose again, water streaming down his face like anointing oil.
And then it happened.
The heavens tore open and made way for a radiant and warm light. A light beyond light poured down, and from it descended the Holy Spirit, like a dove, gentle and silent, resting upon him.
And a voice echoed across the sky, deeper than the ocean, brighter than flame: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some fell to their knees. Others stood in stunned silence. But Jesus, undistracted, stood motionless in the water, eyes closed, receiving the affirmation not just of a father—but of the divine.
Without fanfare, he left the riverbank. The Spirit led him—not to crowds or cities—but into the wilderness. There, among the stones and silence, beneath scorching sun and freezing stars, he wandered for forty days. He neither ate nor drank. His body weakened, but his soul was being sharpened like iron in fire... Or so the scripture claims.
And then Satan came...
"Yo, Jesus! Do you want some weed?" Aragorn appeared next to him like that stranger of fable that parents warned their kids would come offering free drugs.
"Aragorn? Are you supposed to be my Satan?" Jesus asked. His eyes went from their faked serenity, deepness, and steadiness to the truth that was tiredness.
"Agamotto's dimensional veil is too well done after he received tutelage from Yao. There's no way Satan or Mephistopheles or any of the other Lucifers were going to even get a whiff of you," Aragorn chuckled, "so here I am. You'll have to make do with me."
"Lucky me," Jesus spoke with numbness.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? Look at all the stuff I brought for us to hang out," Aragorn clapped his hands, and the wilderness of Earth-199999 saw for the first time a leather reclining sofa with a massage module included. His P-Link projected a holographic screen that showed a black and red design that read Catflix—owned by a certain delinquent Goddess of Law, she saw it fit to plagiarize Netflix, the Netflix that Aragorn also plagiarized on Earth-5H1N3.
Aragorn wasn't lying. He brought the divine herb, alcohol, popcorn, pizza, ice cream, and soda—basically a sumptuous feast. Two controllers were on the armrests of the sofa, and a VR set for the best gaming experience.
"... I think you're doing a better job than Satan when it comes to temptation," Jesus commented, a chuckle escaping his naturally impassive mien.
"Well, you'll die in about three years. I thought you might enjoy the respite. We both know you don't need to resist temptation in this reality, so I do not need to be mean to you. So, are you going to waste my efforts?" Aragorn plumped into one side of the sofa and patted the other with his tail while looking expectantly at Jesus.
Jesus shook his head and reluctantly took the seat next to Aragorn.
"You know? Your life is shitty, but your ability to enjoy a mortal body has its perks," Aragorn commented.
"Perks? Is people scourging me only to later die crucified and in agony a perk?" Jesus asked. There was no heat in his words, simply acceptance.
"No, obviously that's the disadvantage. But were it not for your mortal vessel, these," Aragorn pointed at the divine herb and alcohol with his tail, "would not have done the trick."
"I suppose, in a very sad context, my ability to be poisoned by these is a benefit one such as you won't ever enjoy," Jesus nodded.
"Yeah, I never liked either, but don't rub salt in the wound," Aragorn playfully snarled.
Aragorn and Jesus did as they had intended. They enjoyed Catflix, played virtual games, ate and drank like no king or emperor ever could, and talked about life in general as only entities like them could experience.
When the time came for Jesus to return and begin his ministry, he genuinely didn't want to.
"You truly are better at temptation than Satan," Jesus said with regret as he followed Aragorn's every movement while he stored back the recreational setup.
"The key to successful temptation is appealing to what the tempted needs and making them desire it," Aragorn spoke with wisdom beyond his apparent age.
Jesus sighed, envying the upbeat mood of the Dragon. "I'll see you in my crucifixion."
"I'll see you then, Jesus," Aragorn waved the depressed multiversal entity goodbye.
Jerusalem, 27 AD...
Dressed in purple, with a crown of thorns, and a cross on his flogged back—bloodied and raw—Jesus dragged his way to Golgotha.
Gone was the Jesus who joined Aragorn in virtual games and Catflix.
Gone was the Jesus who feasted with him in an uncharacteristically joyful mood.
Gone was the Jesus who talked with Aragorn about the best sceneries in the multiverse.
Gone was the Jesus who found solace in Aragorn's company after his baptism.
'Are you sure it has to be this needlessly painful?' Aragorn's voice reached Jesus' tired mind.
'It has. Mind not the pain of my body, for this is not the first time I've trodden this path,' Jesus replied with a serenity impossible to locate in his blood-stained face.
'Really? You know I could do away with these mortals and then warp the survivors' minds into believing they witnessed what we wanted them to experience,' Aragorn gazed with disdain at the crowds cheering at Jesus' suffering.
'They don't know better. The priests manipulated them. Leave them out of this, I've already experienced this countless times before,' Jesus replied.
Aragorn walked beside him, cloaked from mortal eyes, and accompanied him to Golgotha. He lifted the cross slightly with his telekinesis and provided pain relief through his biokinesis to Jesus. Even then, at some point, a man named Simon of Cyrene was compelled to carry his cross.
'You're being uncannily soft,' Jesus commented.
'Your existence is closer to my level than theirs,' Aragorn pointedly stared at the crowd with contempt. 'I have an easier time empathizing with you.'
'We could use some of your apathy. Yet, even now, my Father, the Holy Ghost, and I still love them,' Jesus said.
His body was lying in position atop the cross. Under Aragorn's eyes, he was nailed to it, a sign above his head that read "Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum," 'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.'
Three hours later, Aragorn, floating beside the crucified mortal multiversal entity, waved his tail, and the skies turned dark. This darkness remained for three more hours.
All the while, Aragorn was using his biokinesis to lessen his pain and conversing with Jesus by his side to keep his mind out of the gutter that his situation was.
And finally...
"Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit."
'Goodbye, my friend. That was the least harrowing of my crucifixions.'
He breathed his last.
Aragorn waved his tail once more, this time a bored expression on his face as he gazed at the mortals, and at that moment, the Temple veil tore in two, the earth quaked, and some tombs opened.
A Roman centurion spoke, "Truly, this was the Son of God."
While the crowd panicked, Aragorn removed his cloaking and appeared floating face-to-face in front of Jesus. He glanced at the other two crucifixion victims and blessed them with an aneurysm, granting them a merciful death.
The panicked crowd, one by one, noticed Aragorn floating in front of Jesus and stopped in their tracks.
Aragorn gazed down at one of the Romans and ordered, "You've killed him, go ahead and verify."
The Roman, Longinus, compelled by the overbearing weight of Aragorn's emotionless gaze, obeyed with trembling steps. He pierced Jesus by his side, and immediately blood and water came out.
The spear fell from the soldier's trembling hands and he collapsed to his knees with it. Aragorn pulled out the nails keeping him on the cross with his telekinesis and gently lowered the body to Mary.
"Hello, Mary," Aragorn greeted the tear-stricken woman. "He accepted this. I offered him salvation, but he declined."
With those words, Aragorn parted.
'This should be it, right? No more playing your role,' Aragorn said.
'It is. We thank you for your assistance,' Yahweh, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost replied in unison.
With this final act, Aragorn no longer had to play God, and whatever acts of divine intervention were to come—whether factual or faux—were not his problem.
Aragorn, with a metaphorical weight off his shoulders, flapped his wings, displaced space, and appeared in Halo. It was time to wake up Selene.
'Maybe an auspicious event will help me get my mind off the absurdity of Jesus' death,' Aragorn thought.
'Are (Am) we (I) too biased towards lifeforms closer to us (me) in level?'
-It's inevitable, we (I) hardly empathize with anyone outside the Drachantheon Therion.-
>All of our (my) empathy went to Jesus.<
|We (I) are (am) being overly dramatic because empathy is a poorly explored emotion.|
Aragorn entered the med-bay while talking to his selves. Inside, Death, Jean, and Hestia awaited him. The three women observed the pulsing cocoon of blood with curiosity.
"Quite the audience for the birth of our vampire queen," Aragorn commented.
He walked to Death and kissed her fondly before planting a smooch on Jean's forehead, then he patted Hestia's head.
"I think normally there would be more of us here," Jean said.
"Alas, Selene is not the most popular in the Drachantheon Therion," Death added.
"What did she even do?" Hestia asked.
"She almost condemned our home universe to obliteration, and had I not intervened, the whole multiverse," Aragorn explained.
"W-What?!" Hestia exclaimed, her shock understandable.
"As unimaginable as that is, the Drachantheon Therion hate her not because of the possible annihilatory consequences of her actions, but because Aragorn had to self-destruct to avoid the multiversal tragedy," Jean explained.
Hestia heard Jean, but clearly, Aragorn was alive, so she tilted her head in confusion. "I don't understand."
"I don't die," Aragorn said matter-of-factly.
"My Love doesn't cease to exist," Death added.
"The ultimate cockroach," Jean painted a beautiful picture.
"How rude," Aragorn flicked Jean an ember of his eternal flame, only for this one to open her mouth and eat it.
"Oh, what do you have there?" Death questioned, her gaze on a red blob of liquid floating above Aragorn's hand.
"My last payment, Jesus' blood," Aragorn pushed the blob of divine blood to the crimson cocoon.
As the divine blood flowed to the cocoon, Aragorn extracted some of his blood and made it follow the divine blood's path.
"I thought she had sucked enough of your blood," Jean said.
"I can attest to that. For centuries, she was stuck to your neck," Hestia chimed in.
"Jean, you have to pay close attention to it. It's blood unnaturally bloated in My Love's soul essence," Death calmly explained.
"Like Noona said, if my usual blood is 20 proof, then this is 180 proof," Aragorn said.
"Is it meant to be a final push?" Hestia asked.
"Exactly," Aragorn nodded.
The two bloods touched the crimson surface and seamlessly passed through.
The surface rippled like a calm pond, then trembled with multiple peaks and valleys, and finally, it tore open vertically.
As graceful as the birth of new life, Selene stumbled forward, naked and covered in blood, fighting to get a sense of her surroundings. Her now naturally red eyes darted back and forth.
"You're naked," the four witnesses said at the same time.
None of them minded the nudity, but Selene didn't share that trust and familiarity with them, so they mentioned it for her sake.
Selene, still confused as to what was happening—since the last she remembered was Aragorn agreeing to let her get a taste of his blood—instinctively made the blood covering her gain opacity and turn into a dress to cover her modesty.
"She's prettier," Death commented.
"Her eyes are now red," Jean pointed out.
"She is stronger," Aragorn said.
"She is the home of something," Hestia tilted her head in confusion at what her divinity was reading. "Oh, she is a progenitor. She is the home of a species," she exclaimed.
"W-What's happening?" Selene asked, her senses going haywire, and all the new sensations were not facilitating it for her.
"First, you should drink that," Aragorn pointed at the half-torn cocoon.
Selene, in her confusion, followed Aragorn's instructions and reached for the cocoon. The gestational organ, as if having a will of its own, flowed to her mouth and was absorbed.
"~Ahn," Selene let out a moan of satisfaction.
"Ecchi," Death chuckled.
"Hentai," Aragorn smirked.
Jean and Hestia looked at each other and rolled their eyes at the couple's antics.
"I feel strong. What happened after I sank my fangs in you?" Selene asked, finally getting some of her bearings back.
"You fell asleep while suckling me like a newborn," Aragorn said.
"It was like a coma. No matter how much I slapped your buttcheeks, you didn't flinch," Hestia earnestly explained.
"I fondled your breasts. You didn't even perk up," Aragorn spoke with a serious mien.
"W-What the hell?!" Selene exclaimed.
"It was all for data gathering," Aragorn spoke like a scholar.
"I liked how it wiggled," Hestia expressed without shame.
Selene crossed eyes with Jean as if seeking an island amidst the seas of absurdity. Jean didn't know what Selene wanted. To her, this much was to be expected of Aragorn. Maybe it was somewhat unexpected that Hestia joined in, but nothing strange in her opinion.
Failing to find much solace, Selene looked at Death, only for Death to simply not notice her because her love-crazed eyes were following Aragorn for no particular reason other than him holding her hand.
"Did I reach Nine Tails level?" Selene asked, choosing to ignore Aragorn and Hestia's sexual harassment—and Death's eyes; that freaked her a little.
"Yes, you drank so much of my blood. What did you expect?" Aragorn replied.
"And mine," Death chimed in.
"Mine too," Jean interjected.
"Mine as well," Hestia raised her hand.
"I also found you some exotic bloods," Jean added.
"There was also blood from Madelyne," Death said.
"I... I thank you." Faced with such unexpected help—because she knew that aside from Madelyne, most of the Therions hated her—she couldn't help but feel warmth in her cold heart.
Aragorn approached her and helped her stand up, her body having recovered enough to stand, and while at it, used his biokinesis to get a clearer understanding of her changes.
"Thank you," Selene said.
"You're welcome, Maids' Creator," Aragorn said, his hand still firmly grasping hers.
"You're still going on about that?" Selene scoffed. "Also, can you let go? I want to see the changes myself." She pointedly stared at his hands grasping hers.
"Wait a second, I'm almost done," Aragorn said. "And obviously I won't ever tire of mentioning how great an achievement that was."
"I wanna see," Jean said, like an impatient child. She approached Selene, took one of her hands from Aragorn's grasp, and used her biokinesis to study the newly born vampire.
"So strange," Jean muttered.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with me," Selene said. She had not had the chance to see her reflection in a mirror, but based on what she could see and feel, she was alright—powerful, even.
"You're okay, but your new constitution is interesting," Aragorn explained on behalf of Jean.
"Interesting how?" Selene questioned.
"You're not alive, nor dead, but not in the aragornian sense of a paradox," Jean said. "You're evidently part of the Life/Death equation, but you stand in the absolute middle. That's what's interesting."
"Something between Dead and Alive, Undead and Unalive. It's like you have a whole new classification to you," Aragorn explained.
Under the curious—and somewhat enthralled—eyes of the two psionic beings, Selene was studied. Later, when Hestia pulled Aragorn and Jean away from her, Selene had the time to stare at her reflection and, as Death had said, she was more beautiful after her evolution.
Eventually, Death and Jean returned to their training and went away to an empty dimension. Hestia and Aragorn decided to have Selene follow them, to study in detail the results of her transformation. Besides, Selene—even though she was a Goddess—had no following, so she didn't have any responsibilities other than being Aragorn's secretary.
"This is more entertaining than I ever gave it credit," Selene commented.
Near her, Aragorn and Hestia were playing the role of healers amid a rebellion in Jiaozhi (modern-day northern Vietnam). Selene was observing as the rebels, manned by peasants and tribal leaders, led by two sisters, conducted an uprising against the oppressing rule of the Chinese Han Empire.
The immediate cause of the rebellion was that the local lord—husband to one of the sisters—was executed by the Chinese governor in charge of the region.
"Quite unlike most women of the era, they rose in fury and aimed their wrath upon their oppressors," Selene chuckled in admiration.
"I've come across some other women of battle during my eras roaming human civilization, though few of them are recognized. This is a man's world, and stories of rebelling women are often buried or used to portray the failure of a man," Aragorn commented.
"Really? I know little about history, if I'm being honest," Selene confessed.
"Didn't you live through it? I thought you were 17,000 years old by the time we met," Aragorn said.
"Oh? So Selene wasn't made immortal by you?" Hestia asked.
"No, no, she was born immortal," Aragorn quickly clarified.
"You're making the mistake of assuming that during those ages information was readily available," Selene said.
"Ah, you're right. How would you know about what happened across the world without telecommunications?" Aragorn said in realization.
"Not all of us count with a satellite ringworld and the capability to launch a sat-net upon need," Selene said.
"Actually, didn't you ever come across the Eternals during your life? Those guys could have hooked you up with a sweet sat-net," Aragorn said.
"I did encounter them a few times, but nothing amiable," Selene said.
"Mmm... Yeah, I can imagine that. You were a power-hungry, life-siphoning bitch during your early centuries, weren't you?" Aragorn asked with a knowing smirk. "I bet all you wanted them for was their abundant vitality."
"Those were different times, and I was born with a curse," Selene icily riposted.
"Curse? What form of curse?" Hestia asked, her hands busy mending a torn abdomen on a passed-out human.
"She is talking about her mutation," Aragorn said. He was healing a mutilated human who had lost a leg, and they couldn't find it. "The bad news is that I can't regrow you a leg," Aragorn said to the aching mortal. "The good news is that there are many to choose from around us," Aragorn pointedly stared at the plenty of corpses around them.
The human caught his meaning and passed out with a shriek. The idea of transplants, for the average Joe of the era, was worse than witchcraft for the future Catholic Church.
"Wrong! I was referring to being born a woman," Selene said.
"Oh," Aragorn voiced out.
"I can see how that's a curse," Hestia nodded. "Countless girls—I've seen their misery-filled ends."
"Well, I won't deny that can be a curse. Still, you were rarely the victim, I bet. With your powers and all of that," Aragorn said.
"Ugh," Selene looked away. She knew he was right. Aside from a rocky start, she couldn't say she led a life of tragedy and powerlessness.
"How are these sisters called, Aragorn?" Hestia asked. She had finished healing her lot.
"Trưng Trắc and Trưng Nhị," Aragorn said. He finished transplanting a leg for the maimed mortal and then gazed at the distant sisters riding elephants against their oppressors. "They'll die in a few years. The Han Empire is without a doubt too much for Jiaozhi."
"How tragic," Selene muttered.
"That's the main theme in a weak mortal's life," Aragorn said.
"Equally for the powerless and the weak. Life, in most Multiverses I know, hates weakness," Aragorn commented.
"That's something all of us can easily understand," Selene added.
"Mmm, that's true. There was a time even I was weak," Aragorn said.
"..." Selene and Hestia stared at him expressionlessly.
"I can't picture it," Selene took her eyes away from him as if giving up on spotting something.
"Me neither," Hestia shook her head with a wry smile.
"How rude. I was once weak," Aragorn said.
Before the benchmark of a year, the trio left the area and moved back to the Mediterranean. Aragorn and Hestia got wind from one of the SplitSelves that it was time to collect knowledge again before it was destroyed.
As the trio walked through the streets, people's eyes unconsciously followed them. Whether due to the divine beauty of the goddesses, their attire, their inhuman traits—especially Selene's—or simply because Aragorn was that identifiable, all the humans wanted to do with them.
To avoid being swarmed by a mob requesting or demanding their healing or blessing, Aragorn released a subtle mental suggestion not to approach them unless it was something of importance.
"Is there a celebration or festival going on?" Hestia asked.
"No, this is more like they are preparing for a military parade," Selene said.
"What makes you think that? Did you read their minds?" Hestia asked, her eyes darting with curiosity around the assorted wares on sale.
"I may not know much about history as a whole, but I lived through most of the Roman Empire until its latter years," Selene said.
They soon arrived near the main northern entrance of the city. As Selene had guessed, the upheaval around town was about the return of the Caesar after a military conquest.
"Who's the current Caesar?" Selene asked.
"Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus," Aragorn said.
"Mmm, I don't remember that name," Selene said.
Soon the military parade arrived, and under the shocked eyes of the trio, the Caesar paraded with pride his spoils of war: seashells.
"Ah, now I remember. The madman, Caligula," Selene chuckled.
"Madman? I thought there was some symbolism to the seashells," Hestia commented.
"Yeah, but in his mind. I remember he thought he had won the divine war against Neptune after having his soldiers cut the sea with their blades," Selene said.
"Why is someone mentally unfit to rule the Roman Empire on the throne?" Hestia asked, eyes wide.
"This is not the first, nor the last time this will happen," Aragorn chuckled. He couldn't help but find mockery in the Roman Empire—or empires and kingdoms in general.
With the parade over, the trio continued their exploration of the city.
The days flew by, and Aragorn and Hestia decided to create a clinic for healing instead of having to move around seeking the ailing. Either way, they were going to stay in Rome for a while, so they were in no rush to depart.
Their little clinic soon gained popularity, and from all around the Mediterranean—and even beyond the Roman territories—the ailing came seeking healing.
One evening, close to sunset, their clinic was visited by a certain personage.
Aragorn looked at the man and said, "Peter, what brings one of my departed friend's apostles here?"
"Aquila, it's an honor you remember me," Peter said.
"I can't forget, so I remember you—just like how I remember you denied Jesus three times the day before his crucifixion," Aragorn said with an impassive tone.
"... A sin I repent deeply even to this day, and I will do so until my end," Peter solemnly said. "Could I have a word about the future of His church?" he asked, eyeing Selene and Hestia.
"You can speak in their presence; otherwise, I would tell them everything afterward. Save me the effort of recounting our conversation, will you?" Aragorn said.
"Hello, Peter. I am Selene, Goddess of Vampires," Selene formally introduced herself.
"I'm Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth—though the Roman children call me Vesta," Hestia said, sending a welcoming smile to Peter.
Peter looked appalled between the two goddesses and then at Aragorn. "I recognize one God only."
"Is that so?" Aragorn asked offhandedly. "That's good for you, I guess."
Aragorn's words left Peter stunned.
"Hey, Peter mortal, I've been used as a messenger by your god, Yahweh. That makes me worthy of at least sainthood, doesn't it? You should show some respect, youngster!" Selene said with a chuckle barely concealed.
"... Are there perhaps tiers in godhood?" Peter asked. He couldn't contain his confusion and surprise at Selene's statement. "Or are you like Apostle Aquila—not God, but not Human?"
"Since when am I an Apostle?" Aragorn asked.
"It was officially recognized so a few years after the passing of King Solomon. Though your original scriptures are currently withheld by the Roman Empire," Peter replied, informing Aragorn about the current location of the 'Bible' he wrote in Dragon Ore.
"Huh? I guess I can add Apostle to my list of titles," Aragorn murmured.
"To answer your question," Selene said, bringing the conversation back on track, "I wouldn't dare to call myself a goddess in Yahweh's presence. According to Aragorn—or as you call my boss, Aquila—" Selene motioned with her head to Aragorn, "there's only one Omnipotent, Omniscient, and Omnipresent being in the World, if that's what you're questioning."
"I see, I see. So there's only the Highest One, the Holy Spirit, and Jesus, as stated in the holy teachings," Peter said, nodding to himself with a serene smile.
Aragorn and Hestia, who noticed the peculiarity in Selene's words, could only look at Peter and think patronizingly, 'How cute.' Especially Aragorn, who knew Selene was referring to the One Above All.
"So, why were you looking for me?" Aragorn asked.
"He appeared to me in a vision. Hard times are coming, and I must be prepared," Peter began with religious zeal. "Our mettle as His sheep will be tested, our will shall be sharpened by the fire, our faith strengthened through perseverance and dedication—but we shall prevail in these upcoming trying times. He has promised an era of growth after our trials, and He shall deliver!"
"That told me nothing I didn't know already, yet I still await you to tell me what it is you desire," Aragorn said, his impassive tone contrasting with Peter's fervor.
"Aquila, I beseech you to protect our legacies. We, His people, His faithful, shall persevere, yet I fear for future generations and the possibility of them growing without His teachings—being led astray from the sacred scripture," Peter said.
"You want me to protect your patrimony, is that it?" Aragorn cocked his head in question.
"Yes, Aquila. That is my humble request," Peter gazed earnestly at Aragorn.
"Is that a humble request?" Selene asked Hestia in a somewhat mocking tone.
"Don't be rude. Look at how earnestly endearing he is imploring," Hestia chided Selene.
"That's a grown-ass man, not a child, Hestia. Only you can speak of endearment regarding an adult," Selene shook her head in disbelief.
Ignoring their conversation, Aragorn said to Peter, "I take no sides. If I'm to be the keeper of your legacy, then the same service shall be offered to all. Are you sure you want that?"
"Yes, Aquila. I care not for the others, so long as the boundaries of respect are tolerated. My people only seek to mind their business," Peter said, a pleased smile on his face.
"You're mistaken," Aragorn said, his words putting a dent in Peter's smile. "Let me tell you about what will happen. Hehehehe!" Aragorn laughed somewhat evilly.
"For the following centuries, your people will be persecuted in masses. Christians shall be tortured, crucified, burned, scourged, mauled by beasts, decapitated in the best of cases, boiled alive. Your deaths shall turn to spectacle." Each of Aragorn's words was to Peter like nails to Jesus on the cross.
"Your suffering will be imperial edict, and the desecration of your faith shall be the national tradition. You shall find horrendous death so often that it will grow in you, and you will begin to call it 'Martyrdom'—as an escape from the ugly reality.
"You will find faith, pride, pious belief, and even a sense of affirmation from such horrendous deaths under the necessary belief that martyrdom is a test of Yahweh. Even you, Peter, shall find death in a few years under an inverted cross." Peter's eyes opened wide in terror.
"But like you were promised, a golden era shall follow the centuries' worth of bloodshed," Aragorn affirmed his vision, and this brought a sense of calm to Peter's agitated heart.
"But guess what?" Aragorn smiled like Satan—in Peter's eyes.
"W-What?" Peter asked with a trembling voice.
"Then your people will be the ones doing the persecution. Your innocent—now-victims, then victimizers—Christians will be the ones burning people at the stake. Your Christians will be the ones persecuting the believers of what you will deem as pagan gods. From victims to abusers," Aragorn painted the horrible truth to Peter by sharing a few images of the future cruelty of Christianity.
"So my question remains, are you sure you are okay with me offering this service to all? Because now it shall save your patrimony, but in a few years, it shall be the patrimony of the pagans. It might position the church against me, and we both know that is not a good place to be," Aragorn said.
Peter, no matter how much he wanted to deny Aragorn's words, couldn't. While he was not the most educated, he knew about history. He knew of the cycle of hate.
"I can only accept and trust that even after that, my future brothers and sisters will find it in them to remember to follow Jesus' teachings," Peter declared.
"Alright then, Peter. From this day forward, all Obelisks shall serve as security boxes. The ultimate locations to store valuables of personal or national importance," Aragorn declared, tapping his P-Link and sending an addendum through the device and The System.
In his carriage, Peter brought a grail, a bloodied mantle, long iron nails, a long spear, and lastly a wooden cross.
"It's been some time since I last saw Yahweh's divinity," Aragorn said. He waved his hand and brought out a gold-plated wooden box with two large, golden cherubim on top from his storage. Peter kneeled immediately, his hands brought together.
Aragorn's eyelid flickered at this; he only wanted to show off his collectible, not have Peter fall in genuflection. He waved his tail, and the Ark of the Covenant disappeared. When Peter lifted his gaze, he was met with Aragorn's exasperated expression.
Selene and Hestia, in the distance, chuckled at them.
Via the Duskari Custodians, news easily spread around the world about the new feature of the Obelisks: a place to securely store valuables.
Eventually, Peter departed, and their lives returned to 'normalcy.' This said normalcy didn't last long.
When rumors of Caligula's latest 'prank' reached them, they couldn't help but laugh.
After going to a thermopolia for some take-out roasted lamb, the trio made their way to their favorite tavern. As is obvious, the food and alcohol were subpar when compared to what they were used to in the Imperium, but Hestia liked the ambiance and Selene enjoyed hearing about the latest rumors.
One of those rumors spoke about Caligula attending a wedding and taking the bride for himself, only to the next day—after he bedded her—claim that he would divorce her because she was not chaste.
"Pffft! Hahahahaha! That idiot is gonna get himself killed one of these days," Selene said in Latin between laughter.
"I pity the girl, now she won't find a loving partner," Hestia said. "I can't believe they place so much value in a thin membrane."
"From my perspective, it's stupid. However, it makes sense," Aragorn said.
"It does?" Hestia asked. Aragorn's words also caught the giggling Selene's attention.
"Let's set aside a woman with a child and focus on a childless, non-chaste woman. Humans make mistakes, men and women alike, so it's stupid for a woman's value to decrease for partaking in the same licentious actions as a man.
"Maybe she was naive and innocent and thought she found the One, maybe she had no better options back then, or maybe she was just a stupid horny teen that wanted to be dicked down.
"But not being chaste doesn't necessarily mean a decrease in value, at least from a philosophical perspective. Experience tends to benefit humanity, so maybe she came out wiser after the experience—just like sometimes men come out wiser after a failed relationship.
"However, that's just the philosophical perspective. From a biological standpoint, in this world riddled with STDs, chastity is of value. From the perspective that virgin women tend to be the younger ones, chastity has value because it's easier for an older man to mold a younger woman.
"Then there's the ego," Aragorn said.
"Male ego, don't I know about it," Selene scoffed.
"No, no, I think I understand what Aragorn is implying," Hestia interjected. "Relationships are not bound by logic. If you like it, then you do; if you dislike it, then that's it. The ego plays a major role in giving form to the likes and dislikes of a man."
"Tch!" Selene clicked her tongue. "Maybe I'm biased because I'm a woman, but I do agree with the fact that what you like isn't meant to be controlled. Not that I'm defending that Caligula idiot. I'll laugh at his death."
"I was not defending men either," Aragorn waved his mug of wine in denial. "I said I thought it was stupid. Just by breathing in this tavern, they inhale bacteria, viruses, and all other malign microorganisms. It's stupid to worry that much about cleanness from that perspective, isn't it? Especially since humans, to my eyes, are walking masses of filth—entire ecosystems."
Aragorn's face morphed into a disgusted mien.
"Then there's the emotional part. If you love her, then you do, and that's it. The past makes us who we are, but it shouldn't define us," Hestia said, then sighed. "But I know that's not always the case, and most humans are defined by their pasts."
"Mhmm," Selene hummed in support.
"What are you mhmming about? You are the literal definition of someone defined by their past," Aragorn called her out with a mocking tone.
"Shut up, Boss! This is sexual harassment!" Selene squealed out in defense. "Hestia, protect me from his verbal assault! I'm a changed woman."
With Selene taking refuge behind Hestia and the Goddess of the Home acting as the physical barrier between Aragorn's verbal piercing assaults loaded with truth and the veritable 'Bad Bitch,' the night came to an end.
The problem arose from Selene's words in Latin. Selene had spent a long time in the Roman Empire of Earth-5H1N3, so she felt comfortable talking in Latin, and since to Aragorn's Logosense it didn't matter what language she spoke, it meant that sometimes she fell back into the language.
For the Roman Empire, their Caesars were venerated as divinities, most of the time 'ascending' to godhood upon their deaths. So the openly mocking statements of Selene were both imperial offenses and heresy.
Selene, as Aragorn's companion, wouldn't normally be subjected to the same rules as the mortals, and no sane ruler would antagonize one of the companions of Aragorn. The keyword here being 'sane.'
Caligula was not sane.
Two days later, after Selene's words reached him and he had the time to command and coordinate his men, Caligula had his Praetorian Guard outside Aragorn and Hestia's clinic.
Aragorn, with all the patience in the world, after making sure the last client of the day had been healed, walked outside and joined Selene and Hestia, who came out first to receive the guards.
Instead of the fallen-in-agony men he expected to encounter, Selene and Hestia were looking at the clearly dreading men with pity.
They were sweating cold, their breaths were almost ragged, they clenched their weapons tightly, and were clearly showing all the indications of animals locked in a flight-or-fight dilemma.
"No need for all this fear," Aragorn addressed the leader of the almost trembling group. "Did your ruler summon us?"
"Y-Yes, esteemed Aquila. The Caesar summoned the Domina Sanguinis and her entourage," the man said. {Lady of Blood}
"Would you look at that, Hestia? My boss is now part of my entourage. I've leveled up in life," Selene said with a cheeky tone.
"Hehehe!" Hestia chuckled. "Congratulations, 'Lady of Blood!'"
"Take us there," Aragorn commanded and opened a portal connecting to the entrance of the palace.
The perplexed leader and his men didn't know what to do. Aragorn pointed with his head at the portal, the palace entrance clearly visible on the other side.
"..." But none moved to cross it.
"Oh, come on!" Selene exclaimed, exasperated, and took control of their bodies' blood and had them form up and walk through the portal. Whimpers and muffled yells were heard, but none paid attention to them.
Minutes later, they found themselves in the 'glorious' presence of their latest source of chuckles and mockery: Caligula. He did not look pleased at all.
"You find yourselves in the presence of your equal; we attest to that!" This was how Caligula started the conversation with the two goddesses and Aragorn.
"..." Aragorn and the goddesses were stunned silent.
"Maybe we should put it out of its misery?" Selene didn't mince her words; she spoke loud enough and in classical Latin to make sure Caligula understood her just as clearly as everybody else in the room.
"You know my code. I don't kill humans all nillie-willie," Aragorn said.
"Maybe in this case, it might be considered clemency," Hestia said, her words as scandalous as Aragorn and Selene's expressions.
"What happened to you, Hestia?" Selene asked, concern audible in her voice.
"No, I mean, he obvi—"
"ENOUGH!" Caligula shouted, interrupting Hestia.
"We invite you to our imperial abode to mercifully grant you the opportunity to express your apologies for your words, and you see it fit to besmirch my divine pride?"
His nostrils flared violently, his face was a scowl of wrath, and gone was the mightier-than-thou image he was trying to portray.
"Not only will you be subjected to the—" Caligula stopped. He could not speak anymore.
Before anyone could react—even Selene and Hestia—Aragorn stood in front of Caligula with his hand grabbing his face. Aragorn's nails sank into his mug, yet there was no blood.
His eyes held consciousness, and panic and dread could be seen in them, yet the rest of his body belied his turmoil. Aragorn's tail swayed lazily, and a container filled with a dubious viscous brown substance appeared floating above Caligula.
The substance fell onto him and covered him until it looked like only his face—in Aragorn's grasp—was outside a sphere of the brownish liquid.
Then even his face was covered by the substance, leaving only Aragorn's hand lying atop the surface of the brownish bubble.
The surface of the bubble rippled sporadically, and a few seconds later, in the absolute silence that had filled the room, the liquid receded—only this time there was considerably less than in the beginning—and instead of Caligula... a mare of white coat and hair, and purple eyes stood. Aragorn's hand was over the mare's face.
"I heard you loved Incitatus—your horse—very much and were thinking about appointing him to the Senate. Now you can express that love without concerns about society or biological limitations," Aragorn said.
There was intelligence behind the mare's violet eyes, but even then, the body was no longer under the intelligence's control.
Aragorn opened a portal behind the mare, and the neighing of a horse echoed in the room.
"You're in heat now," Aragorn declared.
Aragorn, with his hand still over the face of the mare, walked forward, and the mare moved backward. Panic and horror made a presence in the mare's eyes, yet her body remained calm and tame.
Aragorn kept guiding the mare backward until her entire body was on the other side of the portal. The sounds of a horse gutturally nickering in anticipation echoed from the portal.
"You shouldn't have thought that, much less pictured it," Aragorn said before stepping back and removing his hand from the mare's face. The portal snapped shut.
None of the guards in the imperial room made a sound, and none of the imperial advisors, servants, personnel, or even Caligula's wife—the one forced to assist the meeting—made a sound.
Their legs were trembling, yes; their eyes darting back and forth, yes; their hands clasped tightly and trembling as much as their legs, yes; tears running down their cheeks, yes; and their hearts pounding wildly in their chests, yes—yet not a single sound was made.
Aragorn stored the organic substance and then appeared next to Selene and Hestia, the only ones keeping their composure.
"We should return. The mortals need to find a new Caesar," Aragorn said, offering his hands to Selene and Hestia.
With practiced ease, both ladies accepted the offered hands and interlaced their fingers. Selene went as far as to sink his arm into her bosom and lovingly lean her head on his shoulder.
''What did he think?'' Selene asked. Hestia did not say anything, but her silence spoke of her curiosity.
''He thought with his lower head about both of you. Had he voiced out his thoughts I would have broken his soul, but Noona doesn't like it when I break the souls of the mortals,'' Aragorn said while leading the way outside the frigid-with-fear room.
In his wake, a tall pillar—not taller than the ceiling of the room—began to flourish from the floor like a tree does. On it, a depiction of what had just transpired was carved, and a detailed explanation inscribed.
When the pillar finished growing, when it connected with the ceiling, all over the world, any person of authority with a claim to any throne received a psionic account of what had occurred and a message that read: My curiosity is endless, just like the countless punishments worse than death that I could enlist my curiosity to discover.
There was a period of turmoil in the Roman Empire, but like it always does, the wheel kept turning, and soon another Caesar was seated on the Throne.
The new Caesar was named Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus, commonly known as Claudius. He was Caligula's uncle.
''If he's his uncle, does it mean he's like him?'' Hestia asked as the trio observed the 'coronation' ceremony.
''Who knows? Rarely is a ruler an individual who enjoys the average reasoning capabilities,'' Aragorn said. ''Just take a look at the Fluff, she was not sane even before I crowned her.''
''No, actually Claudius was not a bad ruler,'' Selene said.
''Eh, really?'' Hestia asked, incredulous.
''Yes, his only problem was his women. The first one he already divorced; she was involved in some scandals of adultery and even murder,'' Selene said. ''The second, like the first, he already divorced; there was nothing wrong with this one, but her father was executed for treason, so he had to divorce her.
''The third will soon come. She was not a prostitute because she simply didn't charge for it. She'll be executed for trying to marry her lover while Claudius is still Emperor.
''The last one will kill him to ensure her son from another marriage ascends the throne,'' Selene succinctly resumed the new Caesar's tragedy.
''...'' Hestia was speechless.
''Like I said, no sane person sits on an Imperial Throne,'' Aragorn chuckled.
''To be fair, this guy has likely cerebral palsy or Tourette's syndrome. Being raised in these eras while having physical disabilities can make a person insane,'' Selene said.
Events unfolded just as Selene predicted. Claudius proved himself to be a capable ruler. He expanded the Roman Empire to include Britain, built new aqueducts, roads, and canals, reformed the judicial system, and expanded the rights of citizens and freedmen.
He was highly intelligent and scholarly. Claudius was a historian and a linguist who wrote histories of the Etruscans, Carthaginians, and even an autobiography, all of which Aragorn and Hestia were happy to copy for the Libralisk.
But, as Selene said, his taste for women was terrible. Valeria Messalina, his third wife, was exactly as Selene had described her. Aragorn, out of curiosity, did a paternity test with his biokinesis, and the results were that none of the children she had mothered were Claudius', or even from the same father.
His third wife, Agrippina the Younger, was an ambitious woman who had some unmotherly feelings toward her son. She poisoned Claudius to death, and since her son was too young for the throne, she acted as the regent.
Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, most commonly known as Nero, assumed the throne at the young age of 16 years old. Initially, things were not bad. Hestia and Aragorn were surprised to see some of his murdered adoptive father's intelligence in his ruling. Then, his mistress, Poppaea Sabina, came into the picture.
Nero was a man whose 'love' was divided between three women: his adoptive stepsister and wife, Claudia Octavia; his mistress and target of infatuation, Poppaea Sabina; and his mother, Agrippina the Younger.
Agrippina held tight control of the power in Rome, and Nero began resenting this. Then 'rumors' about their incestuous relationship came to the surface, and this placed great tension between them.
Claudia Octavia knew long ago about this, but since she didn't love Nero and cared not for him—and Agrippina knew this—she was a spectator of the drama.
Things changed when Poppaea Sabina came into Nero's life. His attention was solely for her, and that strained his relationship with his mother further.
To spite him, Agrippina began to prop Britanicus, the biological son of the previous Caesar, Claudius, to power. That led to Britanicus' 'mysterious' death and to Nero finally deciding to end his mother.
Poppaea was an adamant supporter of this path.
After a failed drowning attempt, Nero had his mother successfully assassinated. Now, except for Octavia, Nero and Poppaea's love was unobstructed.
Poppaea pressured Nero into divorcing Octavia, and Nero, like a simp, created some faux charges of adultery against Octavia and exiled her. This still wasn't enough for Poppaea, and Nero had her killed. Octavia's head was delivered to Poppaea. Now their love could be fruitful!
''What a fucking mess this shit is,'' Aragorn commented.
''Don't forget that when Nero met Poppaea she was married to his friend Otho,'' Hestia added.
''Oh, but don't be so surprised yet, this is not the end of it,'' Selene chuckled.
Just as Selene had said, this was not the end of it.
Then came the Great Fire of Rome. There was so much fire that the city burned for six days. The citizens had to flee to the nearest Obelisks, and even after six days, when the fire was brought under control, it reignited and burned for another three days.
Nero took this chance to blame the Christians for it. After all, their influence had been growing in the past years. That's how the first organized Christian persecution began.
The people blamed Nero for the fire because not only did it happen during his rule, but some accounts said they saw him fiddling while Rome burned. There was also discontent about the matricide of Agrippina and the execution of Octavia. Nobody liked Nero.
His tactic of blaming the Christians worked to divert some of the Romans' attention away from him, but not enough.
In 64 AC, shortly after the Great Fire, as Nero tried to wield cruelty and shared responsibility to steer the population against the Christians, he crucified the Apostle Peter.
"Peter," Aragorn called to him as he was dying on an inverted cross.
"A-Aquila," he said in a breaking voice. The blood from the puncture wound in his legs had trailed down to his face, and he was having a hard time seeing with his blood-covered eyes, but he would never forget Aragorn's voice.
Nero, in the distance, startled and uneased by Aragorn's sudden appearance, observed with rampant attention.
"I've come to put you out of your misery," Aragorn said.
"I-I don't-t ne-eed it, He suff-ffered mo-re," Peter said.
"Is that so? Between you and me, I was hiding from mortal eyes right next to him. I used my power to ease his pain, and I lifted some of the cross's weight for him. Also, I don't think my friend would like to see you suffering like this," Aragorn said.
"... A-Aquila, please h-help where you c-can my b-rothers and sisters," Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper, but Aragorn heard him clearly.
"No," Aragorn curtly said. His tail pierced forward and skewered through Peter's head.
The audience gasped, but Aragorn paid no attention to them. He waved his tail, and Peter was entombed into the ground. A tombstone of Dragon Ore rose with the epitaph that read: Here lies Apostle Peter, born Simon, first Bishop of Christianity. Died while pleading for the safety of his brothers and sisters.
Aragorn then turned to Nero and said, for all to hear, "are you still alive?" He chuckled. "Well, it won't be for long." Aragorn then disappeared.
The following times were of great stress and pressure—further exacerbated by Aragorn's words. And finally, one day, Nero lost it. His rage became even more unbridled, his disconnection with reality bordered on delusions, and his people only saw him as a dead man walking—and he knew it.
During one of his rampages, he kicked his pregnant wife in the belly.
Poppaea died with her unborn child.
"... Maybe you should turn this one into a mare too," Hestia said.
"If my standards for taking a life were so empathetic, humanity's population would have been a fraction of what it is today," Aragorn commented, his eyes crimson.
Nero fully disconnected from reality after that and, while trying to deny the undeniable, he found a boy named Sporus.
Sporus resembled Poppaea in face and demeanor. And that was enough.
Nero had Sporus castrated to make him more feminine and began treating him as a replacement for his late wife. He dressed Sporus in imperial women's clothing, called him "Poppaea", and had him appear as empress in public. Nero played the "husband", and Sporus the "wife".
Rebellions, paranoia, unrest, delusion, betrayal, executions, and more finally led to Nero's self-destruction.
After his death in 68 AC, Sporus fell into the hands of Praetorian commander Nymphidius Sabinus, who also treated him as a consort. Later passed between imperial claimants—like a shared whore.
Sporus couldn't take it anymore in 69 AC, and to avoid being publicly humiliated or ravished on stage in a gladiatorial parody of The Abduction of Proserpina (Persephone), he unalived himself.
"It was shitty," was all Aragorn said after watching the end of the drama.
"I'm beginning to see what you despise in humans," Hestia said.
"What?!" Selene exclaimed, shocked. "You've been watching things like this or crueler and you're only beginning to realize now?"
"I'm not ignorant to reality, but even then... I focus on their beautiful parts," Hestia said.
"I remember a similar sight to this," Aragorn said. He was staring at the Appian Way, thousands of Christians crucified at the sides of the road.
"It was during Spartacus's rebellion," Hestia said, her brows furrowed.
"Should we end these mortals' misery?" Selene asked with a sigh.
"No, this is part of humanity. The ugly, beautiful, the inspiring and despairing alike," Aragorn said while shaking his face.
"Sometimes, in an objectively cold way, you appear as an adamant defender of humanity as a concept," Hestia said, her eyes on him.
"It's like you see the forest and not the trees, and you like it, but some others you prefer the trees," Selene added.
"My perspective is thoroughly warped," Aragorn confessed.
Hestia and Selene didn't deny it.
With Nero's death, an era of civil wars and bloodshed began for Rome—and one of even more suffering for the Christians.
But, well, none of this would take Aragorn's sleep away. He had more important matters to worry about, like, for example, the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius. In Pompeii, his PuppeteerSelf informed him that Loki and Mobius would be visiting soon.
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{A/N:
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