Meanwhile, on the other side of Palatine Hill...
"Ohh... ohhh..." A hot, wet moan filled the dimly lit cubiculum.
"Ahhh... Mmm..." A woman's bare back was reflected in the speculum, moving up and down on the bed.
Like a cavalryman riding his horse. Racing to war.
Her hair tossed wildly with each movement, the air thick with an overpowering floral scent and sex.
"Ahhh, Sejanus!..." Her voice rose to a crescendo. "Ahh... ahh... ah..."
Then she stilled for a moment. Her body quivered. Perspiration glistened on her back. Her head tilted up, basking in her high.
Then came sweaty breathing, a rustling of sheets, and a gentle thud.
A brief, satisfied silence followed—just the sound of labored breaths in the stillness of the night.
...
Sejanus broke the quiet first. A sound of swishing sheets and creaking wood.
Without a word, he sat up on the edge of the massive bed, nonchalantly slipping into his red tunica militaris.
His movements—careless—as though he had done this a thousand times before.
Plancina, lying on the bed, watched him.
'What is he doing?' She wondered. 'Was he really leaving?'
Her dark hair was a wild mess, but she did not care.
'No no no no.. you're not going anywhere..' She thought bitterly.
She leaned closer, resting her head on her lover's lap, invading his personal space.
Effectively stopping him from putting on the rest of his garments.
Her gaze was fixed on his strong face, waiting for his attention.
But his brown eyes were not looking at her. He's looking at the fire.
Watching its embers shift and glow. As if it's more interesting than her!
'Look at me!' She screamed in her mind.
But her expression did not betray what she was feeling..
After all… she was a good performer...
"You're not staying the night?" She asked softly, her voice sweet, yet edged with something else—an unspoken plea.
But Sejanus did not answer. Still did not look at her.
He just adjusted his tunic, staring ahead with a distant, cold expression.
"The night is still young, Sejanus…" Plancina continued, her tone sweet, though the edge of desperation crept in.
'Look at me!' She kept begging in her mind.
"Stay?" Her voice was a whispered invitation, though it sounded more like an order.
Sejanus glanced at her but said nothing.
His eyes remained unfocused, barely registering her presence now.
'He barely even looked at me. Why?'
The passion they once shared had long since faded, reduced to this—an obligation, a means to an end.
She felt empty. 'No! I'll make you look at me! You still need me!'
Plancina, not missing the shift in his attention, pressed on, a sly smile curving her lips.
She changed her tactics.
Tracing a finger across his broad chest, her voice now purring with practiced ease.
"They adore me, you know," she said.
"The vidua misera. These Romans… so easily swayed by a tear, a well-placed lament."
Sejanus's gaze remained distant, his voice flat. "They're fickle."
But Plancina's smile widened as his indifference gave way to the briefest flicker of attention.
She leaned in closer, her eyes shining with the thrill of manipulation.
Forcing Sejanus to look at her. Really look at her.
But instead—
"Do you still have that… concoction?" He asked suddenly, his tone lacking interest, as though this were merely another casual conversation.
She stopped moving. Aha!
'See! You still need me!' Plancina felt that she won.
"Kiss me..." She bargained.
Sejanus sighed, uncertain if Plancina was serious or merely playing her games.
Sensing his hesitation, she took matters into her own hands, she half sat up and kissed him.
A wet kiss, with tongue. Trying to stir him up.
But unfortunately for her, Sejanus felt nothing but repulsion.
Yet, he let Plancina have her way, indifferent to her efforts.
Growing tired of her desperate attempts, he grabbed both her shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed.
Her pulse quickened. She thought Sejanus wanted another round, but instead, he merely ended the kiss.
Her chest rose and fell, her lips glistening with moisture.
Then, her mouth curved into a knowing smile.
A dangerous glint flickered in her eyes. "The poison?" she asked.
Sejanus simply stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
"Yes, I kept a vial. Just in case…" She sat up, leaning in again—closer this time, almost straddling him.
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Who are we… disposing of?"
Sejanus stared at her for a while. He can smell her breath in his face.
Then, without a word, he removed her from his lap.
Plancina's desperate gaze, her touch, her kiss—her eagerness to please—did not stir him.
She was just another piece to move in his game of power.
Plancina rested her head on his lap again, forcing him to turn toward the fire—again, irritation flickering in his chest.
There was a time when he had thought he could control her.
He had been confident.
Then she became... crazy. And crazies were different.
Once, her devotion had amused him, even comforted him in the face of his relentless hunger for power.
But now, she was an obstacle. A needy, clingy, unpredictable obstacle.
Yet, despite his disdain, he still needed her.
Her wealth—now that Piso was gone, all of Piso's accumulated riches were hers.
Her influence in the shadows. Her noble bloodline.
And her vials of death, which passed unnoticed.
For now, she was useful.
But he could feel his patience wearing thin.
He wanted to strangle her.
"All in good time, my dear," he murmured, his fingers brushing through her hair as though it were nothing more than a passing moment.
Fighting the urge to grip it tightly. To rip it from its roots.
"You'll know soon enough."
Plancina's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
She pressed further, eager, desperate.
"When do you need it?" She got up, her bare body on full display and asked… her voice was tight with the need for approval.
Sejanus barely glanced at her as he stood, adjusting his tunic.
"Soon. Have it ready."
Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door.
His shadow stretched long across the room, leaving Plancina behind, her smile faltering.
'Gods.. No no no! I'm losing him! Losing everything!'
She wasn't stupid. She wasn't blind.
Sejanus was slipping away from her, and she knew it. A delusion.
But she would not let him go—not yet.
She would play the fool. The devoted woman. She would give him everything he wanted.
Until the time was right.
After all, the thought of becoming an empress thrilled her. The look of disbelief on Agrippina's face would be priceless!
'Look at me! The place where you should be has become mine!'
That is—if Sejanus' plan fell into place.
For now, she would play the vidua misera—the pitiful, wretched widow.
And feed more rumors about Agrippina.
And if Sejanus succeeded in making Tiberius his puppet, she would make her move.
To end Tiberius' life—just as she had with Germanicus.
Completely taking over the throne.
But first—she needs to know that Sejanus would not use the poison on her.
And—
'I need another ally,' She thought.
With the door closing behind him, Plancina was left alone in the dark, her mind already spinning with thoughts of vengeance.
Then, she would not be ignored. No. Not anymore.
**********************************
Sejanus rode through the darkened streets, the rhythm of his horse's hooves striking against the cobblestones..
It echoed in the silence of the night.
The air was warm, heavy with the scent of sweat, wine, and decay.
The palatium loomed ahead, its marble facade barely kissed by the flickering torchlight.
But his thoughts were far from Rome.
Years had passed since Germanicus' death.
Since the greatest obstacle had been removed from the game. His game.
And yet, Tiberius still reigned.
He still held the throne with a vice-like grip, refusing to yield to Sejanus's ambitions.
Tiberius had leaned on him, trusted him, but never surrendered his power.
And that, Sejanus thought bitterly, was unacceptable.
After all those years of groveling at your feet?
Of currying favor?
Of killing for you?
His grip on the reins tightened.
He had to break Tiberius.
He had to crush the old emperor's resolve.
And Sejanus knew just how to do it.
He had been biding his time.
His gaze fixed on the palatium ahead, its imposing presence casting a shadow over the city.
His mind was already working.
Already plotting.
**********************************
Back in the imperial palace, Tiberius sat in the shadow of his golden throne.
His fingers drummed restlessly against the arm of his chair.
'Where was Sejanus?'
The murmur of his court filtered in from the distance, but it was all white noise to him.
He had ruled for only a short time, yet the weight of the crown grew heavier with each passing day. Time felt endless.
But something was off. A feeling.
He could sense it in the pit of his stomach—the whispers, the conspiracies, growing louder with every breath.
'Or am I just imagining it?'
'Where was Sejanus? I need him to tell me—tell me it's all in my head.'
His eyes scanned the room, watching his advisors speak in careful, measured tones.
Each word is a lie. Each glance a dodge.
'Where was Sejanus?'
His trusted praetorian guard. His protector.
Tiberius felt time pass like a slow, inevitable erosion. His body weakened.
And though he prided himself on his composure, the fear of losing control gnawed at him now.
Drusus. His son. The one meant to take the throne.
Tiberius had always been proud of him… but was he truly ready?
Was his son capable of bearing Rome's weight?
Rome—the empire Tiberius never truly wanted.
A faint smile tugged at Tiberius's lips as his thoughts turned to his grandson.
Gemellus.
The boy was four now, full of life and innocence.
Tiberius found himself drawn to the child, his heart swelling with a tenderness he seldom allowed himself.
'Maybe Gemellus will be the future I never could have…'
His mind drifted—to his first wife, to a time before the weight of the empire crushed him.
'Maybe the boy will bring the peace I never could.'
Yet even as his heart softened, an unsettling thought wormed its way in.
The paranoia that had kept him alive for so long flared once more.
'Where was Sejanus?'
Tiberius muttered the words to himself, his gaze fixed on the moon casting long shadows across the city.
Yet even its brightness could not drive away the darkness in his heart.
**********************************
In Agrippina's chambers, the silence was suffocating, thick as a funeral shroud, pressing in from all sides.
She paced the tablinium, her steps sharp against the marbled floor—restless, relentless.
The torchlight flickered against the walls, casting long, shifting shadows that danced like ghosts.
Her procession earlier.
The lack of applause. The whispers. The averted gazes.
They were a constant, gnawing reminder of her declining influence.
'They dare turn their backs on me?'
'After all Germanicus bled for them? After all he gave?'
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. The pain was nothing—a distraction from the storm of fury brewing inside her.
She could feel it—the slow, subtle shift in the air.
The empire was turning against her.
'Tiberius.'
He had orchestrated this. She was sure of it.
Years. It's been years.
The whispers in the shadows, the sideways glances—they've long since stopped being rumors.
Now, they're truth.
Her thoughts turned to Germanicus. Her beloved.
Tiberius had been behind his death. He had removed him from the game.
'Why?'
Because he feared him. Feared what Germanicus was. What he could be.
'Afraid. Afraid of losing power. Afraid of losing control.'
And now? He dares call that whelp his heir?
She knew the truth. Augustus had chosen her husband for the throne.
'But now Germanicus is gone....' Pain still tightened her chest.
It should have been Nero Caesar now! It was their way, their tradition—Tiberius had spat on it.
He had already taken everything from her.
And now, it was time to make him pay.
'An eye for an eye?'
'No—Tiberius would lose far more than that.'
The thought curled inside her like smoke, dark and intoxicating.
Tiberius's son.
His legacy. His pride. The one thing he cared for more than anything else.
To strike at his son would cripple him.
He wouldn't survive the loss.
Her heart pounded. A thrill pulsed through her veins—a taste of the vengeance to come.
She was no longer the woman she once was—the matronly figure who commanded respect.
No.
Now, she was a woman with nothing to lose.
Her lips curled into a cold smile.
But plans were already forming. Dark, twisting, inevitable.
Soon, Tiberius would lose everything—his blood, his legacy, his very will to rule.
Just as he had taken from her.
A soft knock on the door went unheard as Agrippina stood frozen in thought.
Tonight would mark the beginning of her rise—of her vengeance.
**********************************
INDEX:
Ludus Latrunculorum- a Roman strategy board game or the game of soldiers
FUN FACT:
Did you know that Roman cubiculi, also known as bedrooms, are often filled with an overflowing smell of strong perfumes? It was a huge part of their culture. And wealthy widows? They were surprisingly influential! Hence, Agrippina and even Plancina's status. Plus, rumors? They could ruin anyone. And while we think of chess (not yet invented at 23 AD) as a classic strategy game, Romans played their own versions, like ludus latrunculorum and tabula(similar to backgammon).