As the night wore on…
The people became drunk.
Loud uncontrollable laughter.
The clinking of cups.
The high-pitch clang of ligula (spoon) and culter—those ever-present Roman utensils.
The endless chatter.
It all deafened Tiberius.
The people seemed to have forgotten that they were in the presence of the Emperor, as all attention was fixed on Germanicus' every word.
'Was it really that interesting…'
Tiberius swallowed his wine bitterly.
His envious nature was in danger of revealing itself.
He swirled the wine in his cup.
Every time those senators laughed, Tiberius' eyes narrowed.
Every time those damn gentes 'ooohhhed' and said 'aaahhhed', his eyes twitched—over and over—until they became slits, narrow as a cat's eye.
As the evening wore on—media nox (midnight) drawing near—the people grew more loose-tongued, their interest in Germanicus waning.
The now seething, drunken Emperor leaned his head on his nephew.
His eyes—a thin line.
"Germanicus," he murmured.
His voice was a low, probing whisper.
But he let the name hang in the air a moment longer.
Germanicus, whose attention was now on the Emperor, respectfully waited.
"Tell me, nephew," Tiberius started again.
This was his real purpose for the banquet.
He needed to know Germanicus' ambition.
'His name kept echoing through the Curia Julia.'
He gritted his teeth.
'As if he were that great! I'm the one who began this campaign—so why does he get all the glory?'
"And what are your thoughts, Germanicus… on the empire's future?" he inquired, a little too sharply.
But the response came quickly—it was diplomatic and automatic.
"Rome has a bright future with you as its ruler."
'Tch.'
Not satisfied with his nephew's answer, Tiberius masked his disappointment with a slight nod.
Keeping his true thoughts hidden.
Pretending to be the wise, benevolent ruler history would remember.
The mask slipped back in place again.
Still not smiling.
But his expression remained a perfect imperial disguise.
'Reveal your greed, Germanicus.'
His eyes narrowed again.
Tiberius changed tactics, deciding to ask outright, pressing harder, becoming persistent.
He wanted a concrete answer!
Something he could hold on to.
"Do you harbor ambitions to sit upon the throne—someday?"
His voice sharpened—cutting through the noise.
No longer caring who overheard his malicious tone—senators, nobles, not even Germanicus himself.
But Germanicus' expression remained neutral.
There wasn't even a trace of surprise.
As though he'd seen it coming.
For a second, Tiberius felt… suddenly small.
Diminished.
Then—just for a heartbeat—uncertainty crossed Germanicus' eyes.
'Aha!'
Tiberius felt a surge of thrill.
But what came next wasn't what he'd hoped for.
"My only ambition is to serve Rome, your grace."
Tiberius' eyes became slitted again, his face flushed—not just from the wine.
Suspicions clouded his mind.
It wasn't the answer he wanted.
Not even close.
It made him thirst for more—clarity, confession… something damning.
"Does it not ever tempt you?"
His questions were getting reckless.
Brazen.
Unbecoming of him.
Wariness crept into Germanicus' voice.
"May I be honest with you… Uncle?" he whispered.
As if invoking their family relationship ties could soothe the growing tension.
Germanicus' words were nearly drowned by the crowd's raucous laughter—
But Tiberius heard them—distinctly.
Sweat pricked at his temples.
Remembering how every senator had sounded—ready to back Germanicus if he ever chose to reach for the throne.
He lifted his golden goblet and nervously sipped wine.
The wine tasted bitter—like old jealousy on his tongue.
His throat constricted.
Then he nodded to Germanicus, allowing him to continue.
His gaze latched on his nephew—unblinking, observing.
Full of life.
Younger.
Dangerous.
Germanicus paused, the weight of his unspoken thoughts thick in the air.
"No, my Emperor."
Tiberius exhaled, a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"I'm a soldier, not a politician, even though I'm now part of the Imperial family."
Germanicus spoke the truth.
"My duty lies with Rome, not ambition," he added.
He drank his wine in one gulp, then continued, "You are my Emperor, the one I serve."
"So no, it doesn't tempt me, your grace," he said the words with finality.
Tiberius' eyes gleamed sharply.
Then, a sigh—barely audible—slipped past his lips.
He fell quiet.
Then…
"Excellent," he declared, his smile returning, a mask of joviality.
The words appeased him—at least for now.
"Excellent!" he laughed—too loudly, too quickly.
"Ha ha ha!"
As the night drew to a close, and Tiberius rambled drunkenly about their imminent return to the Palatium, Germanicus' mind churned with questions.
'What does he truly want? Was this a test? Or a veiled threat?'
The fragile peace between them hung in the balance.
A delicate thread stretched taut over the abyss of ambition.
**
INDEX:
Curia Julia—Roman senate house
**
FUNFACT!
In Emperor Augustus' time, there were 28 legions. (Each legions had 5000-6000 soldiers)
This number of legions continued even in Tiberius' reign.
3-4 legions were commanded by Germanicus defending on the campaign, (but I chose 3 legions hehe, and the Battle at Weser River was only one of his campaigns, and one of his famed battles—I choose you pikachu!)
The other 3 legions were commanded by Varus, they were the ones that perished in Teoutoburg Forest.
The remaining legions were commanded by other Generals.
And Augustus, before he died, he wanted the lost aquilae in Teutoburg Forest so bad.
He said, "Quintili Vare, legiones redde!"—"Quintilius Varus, give me back my legions!"
He went on months without grooming himself while wailing in anguish, he was the Emperor that had given those aquilae.
**
TIMELINE:
9 AD—defeat of General Varus with his 3 legions in Teutoburg Forest
12 AD—Caligula was born, Germanicus left for his Germanic campaign
14 AD—Augustus died, Tiberius stepped in
16 AD—Agrippina left with Caligula, took him to the Vetera Castrum, Battle at Weser River also happened at this year
17 AD—Germanicus' sandals finally touched a Roman territory