The house was quiet that evening, the soft murmur of distant sounds filtering through the walls. Inside your bedchambers, however, an unmistakable tension hung heavy in the air. Lucius Verus, was pacing restlessly near the large fireplace. His usual calm demeanor had cracked, and his brow was furrowed, a sign he was struggling to reconcile his thoughts.

You stood near the window, arms crossed over your chest, staring out at the city below. It was late-too late for this, you thought. Too late for this argument. But here you were, caught in the middle of a heated exchange over something that had festered between the two of you for weeks.

"You don't understand, Lucius!" you finally snapped, turning to face him, frustration clear in your voice. "It's not just about the empire! It's about us. About how we never seem to be on the same page anymore."

Lucius paused, his fingers tightening around the edge of the marble mantle. His usual composed features betrayed nothing of the frustration he was feeling, but his eyes-those deep, sky eyes-were filled with something far less -like: vulnerability.

"I do understand," he said, his voice low but firm. "I do understand. But the weight of the everything, the constant demands, it's hard for me to... balance everything. I don't want you to feel neglected, but I can't always give you everything you deserve. I never wanted you to feel like you were last in my thoughts."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It's not about being last in your thoughts, Lucius. It's about being heard. You've been so distant lately, always buried in affairs of the state, while I'm left here, waiting for you to come back. When you do return, it's like we've become strangers."

The words hung between you like a weight, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was deafening.

Finally, Lucius moved toward you, his steps slow but purposeful. His expression softened, and he reached for your hand, pulling you gently towards him. His touch was warm, familiar-yet there was an unfamiliar tremor in his fingers.

"Carissima," he whispered, using the name only he called you, a tender reminder of the connection you shared. "I never wanted to make you feel like this. You have to understand... the empire demands more of me than I ever imagined. But none of that matters if I lose you. You are my home. You are my peace in the chaos of this world."

You met his gaze, feeling the intensity of his words sink in. The anger still simmered, but the hurt had softened-just enough for you to see the sincerity in his eyes. You had always known the demands of being married to an emperor, but it didn't make it any easier when the man you loved became more of a figurehead than a partner.

"Lucius..." you started, your voice quieter now, "I just want to feel like we're in this together. That when the world is too much, I can count on you- you, not just the emperor."

He sighed, pulling you into his arms, his voice thick with emotion. "You'll always have me. I promise, no more distance. No more letting the empire come before us. I'll find a way to make this work. I'll fight for us, I swear it."

You leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his body ease the last of the tension. "I don't want to go to bed angry," you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Lucius chuckled, the sound a low, comforting rumble in his chest. "Neither do I."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply savoring the quiet, the reassurance that the argument had been resolved, that your bond remained intact. You felt his fingers gently lift your chin, guiding your face up to meet his, before he kissed you-softly, lingeringly, as though this moment of peace was something precious to both of you.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips. "And I'll do anything to make you feel loved, Carissima. Anything."

"I know you will," you whispered back, your heart finally at ease, your love for him rekindled in the quiet of the night. "Just promise me... you'll always come back to me."

Lucius held you close, his arms tightening around you. "Always."

And with that, the weight of the argument faded, replaced by the warmth of a shared vow-one that no empire could ever break.