You never intended to become entangled with Commodus. The emperor's name was spoken in reverence and fear throughout Rome, and you—an ordinary person—had always kept your distance from the empire's politics. But when you first crossed paths with him, it was under circumstances that seemed innocent enough.

At a gathering in the palace, you were introduced to him as an advisor's guest. Commodus, with his usual charisma, immediately fixated on you. His eyes locked onto yours, and the warmth in his smile was enough to make anyone feel special. To an outsider, it was nothing more than a fleeting moment of attraction.

But to Commodus, it was much more. He had always craved control—over the empire, over people, and even over matters of the heart.

At first, he showered you with attention, lavishing you with flattery and gifts. He knew how to make you feel like you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could see past the emperor's mask. You found yourself captivated by his charm, by the way he could make you feel as if you were the most important person in the world.

"You are so different from the others," he would say, his voice low and smooth. "You see me, not as an emperor, but as Commodus. You understand me better than anyone else. I don't know what I would do without you."

His words were honeyed, and for a time, you believed them. You believed in him. But slowly, something began to change.

Commodus was never truly sincere in his affection; it was always about power. He started to use his charm to manipulate your emotions, twisting your sense of loyalty to him. His attention grew more possessive, his praise more conditional. If you ever disagreed with him or stood firm in your beliefs, you noticed how he would suddenly withdraw, his warmth replaced by cold silence.

It wasn't long before you realized that Commodus's affection came at a price. He would gift you beautiful jewelry, lavish you with fine meals, and whisper sweet words in your ear—but only when he needed something from you. His smiles were always followed by requests, small at first, but gradually becoming more demanding.

"I can't trust anyone in this palace like I trust you," he would say, eyes narrowing with feigned sincerity. "You're the only one who understands my vision. You know what must be done."

At first, the tasks were simple—delivering a message, speaking on his behalf, passing on a favor. But as time passed, the demands became more ruthless. You were no longer just an ally; you were a tool, a pawn to be moved when necessary. He would use your trust in him to manipulate situations to his advantage, making you feel guilty when you hesitated, as though you were somehow betraying him.

When you did try to resist, to speak up or stand against him, he would shift tactics. His affection would turn to scorn, his praises to insults, as if he had suddenly forgotten everything good about you. It was a cruel game, one that left you constantly on edge. He would withdraw his love, leaving you desperate for his approval, before slowly pulling you back in with even more extravagant promises.

"You know I love you," he would say, his voice soft and coaxing. "But you're making this difficult for both of us. If you truly cared for me, you would understand the sacrifices I must make for the empire. I do this for us. Can't you see that?"

You began to doubt yourself. Doubt your own instincts. The love you once thought was genuine was now a weapon, used to break down your sense of self, to make you pliable, to make you believe that the only way to keep his affection was to give him what he wanted.

"You know what I expect from you," he would murmur, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't disappoint me."

But no matter how much he manipulated your emotions, there was a part of you that resisted—deep down, you knew something was wrong. You could feel the weight of his manipulation every time he controlled the narrative, every time he made you second-guess your own choices.

And though you loved him—or thought you did—the more you saw, the more you realized that Commodus loved only one thing: power. And you, in his eyes, were merely another way for him to maintain control