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A beautiful rose.
It had been some time since Giorno had seen roses bloom, but ever was he eager to carefully cut at the stem to retrieve the flower.
He wanted to be sure that rose remained in tact, for the bride of Rome's emperor deserved nothing less of perfection.
If anyone were to bear witness of the sight of him picking flowers, they would be astonished to see that one of the Empire's most prestigious legion would be spending his time even doing something like this.
However, this was all part of his responsibility entrusted to him and the rest of his group, Vento Aureo. He and the other five warriors were asked by Rome's emperor himself to cross over from the Empire capital to retrieve you, his new bride from the furthest corner of the land. To escort the soon-to-be wife of the emperor was a task befitting no one else than the famed Vento Aureo. Though, the only ones who could compare would be the disgraced assassination squad who had been banished to the outer lands after a failed attempt to seize control of Rome.
You were not of royalty, or anything to that effect. However, you were revered as that of an oracle from the gods themselves, tales speaking of your healing abilities and goodwill by your fellow citizens.
The emperor seemed to witness this for himself when he traveled to your country. There was fear that you would be punished for being seen as a false prophet, but he--a leader who carried himself around in shadow and disguised--ended up becoming fond of you.
And fascinated your abilities to wield and interpret the use of items ordained by the gods themselves.
Your knowledge of the heavens and celestials aside, for Giorno and the rest of Vento Aureo, it wasn't hard to see why the emperor would be so fond of you.
Your patience was saintly, your grace that of the gods, your beauty angelic.
From the moment your journey to Rome began, you soon became more than just a mission for the six of them, more than just the future spouse of the emperor.
There was Mista, the expert bowman with a steady eye and luck that was as blessed as it was cursed. When he wasn't fending off fiends with the pierce of his arrows, he was always looking for any chance to have some sort of physical contact with you, whether it was holding your hand while guiding you through a busy market, or having you inspect and tend to his wounds from battle.
As for Fugo, the legion's apothecary whose knowledge in poisons made him lethal, especially once his inner fury came boiling forth. When he wasn't dealing with the burden of his brilliance, he learned to find tranquility and patience during moments spent with you, from reading poetry by Rome's finest to melting within your touch as you cupped his cheeks and urged him to peace.
On the other hand was Narancia, whose mischievous nature and handiness with a dagger made him a menace in battle. When he wasn't going around using his status to get free food or demanding respect as elder to the likes of Fugo or Giorno, he was left completely and utterly infatuated by you. Fruit from the village market, a shoulder to rest upon, protection against Rome's enemies--he was ready to provide all for you.
In terms of Abbacchio, the eldest warrior of Vento Aureo, it took some time before he allowed himself to open up to you. You were just a task for him to complete, the mere spouse of an emperor he begrudgingly worked beneath. Never did he fail to see his mission through. However, for those times when you would cling to him out of trust during skirmishes across your trip, for when you remain so patient and accepting of whatever troublesome feelings were brewing within him, he grew to desire not only your well-being, but your heart as well.
With regards to the co-leader of Vento Aureo, Buccellati was among the first to become especially drawn to you. By his leadership and unwavering resolve, he was a celebrated commander amongst the ranks of the Empire's army. However, being aware of the ever growing shadows that lurked within the heart of Rome, he was beginning to feel hesitance on taking you from your home to be chained down to the Emperor. And as the two of you bonded during the trip, with him finding delight in explaining all the diverse wonders of the culture and people of Rome to you, always ready to embrace you within the warmth of his cape, his reluctance was quickly cementing into refusal.
And then there was Giorno, the other commander of Vento Aureo. Though he was the last to be formally recruited to the group, his quick wit and vicious justice displayed his prowess for leadership. While he was more approachable compared to the others, his eyes were fixated on the ruling seat of the Emperor and you would be his means to attain it. But for someone as calculating and reserved as he was, he found you irresistible to keep away from. During your strolls together, he was drawn to the pure awed look in your eyes as you listened to him explain all the wondrous nuances of nature. He found pleasure in feeling your fingers gently comb through his damp, golden locks after his baths, all while you spoke of parables of the gods, along with the significance of the special ore that comprised your cherished necklace.
For the six of them, what began as yet another but important mission soon turned into inner turmoil between the volatile mix of a yearning heart and a rigid sense of duty.
It didn't seem fair that an angel like you would be wed to a merciless brute who fancied himself in the nightly company of concubines before banishing them out of the empire once he was done with them.
Especially since you seemed to be aware of those open secrets and seemed accepting of the matter.
At first.
By the curious if not nosiness of Mista and Narancia, the inquiries about your imminent marriage and the intimacy that would come with it was a common topic.
Buccellati was the one to pick up on the subtle nervousness that was evident when you spoke further on the subject.
He verified your unease when his tongue trailed along the side of your neck, the tasted hint of your sweat telling him the truth amidst your stammers that all was well.
This was after you approached him one evening, the two of you alone.
You wished to practice kissing.
While you had no outright qualms about the Emperor's harem, you still wished to offer him as much love and passion as you could. Given your devout upbringing, love and intimacy were foreign to you.
Thus was the reason for your request.
Buccellati was astonished, but of course he could not deny the bride of the emperor.
Though he could not lie that his reasons for accepting your request were by selfish means, he was ready to ease your nerves with the brush of his lips onto yours.
The agreement was to slowly guide you along the steps towards physical intimacy, all while being mindful of maintaining your chastity for the night you would lay with your husband at last.
However, even with timing your practices carefully, from making sure the others were asleep at camp to sharing a kiss while hidden away in a tiny alley by a busy marketplace, your plan was unwittingly revealed.
All because Narancia witnessed everything one night.
He had stirred from slumber during one night while you all had made camp. His intention was to fetch some water from your supply of rations, only to stumble upon you wrapped so snugly within Buccellati's arms, your mouths locked together while his hands squeezed and caressed over your body through your clothes.
Narancia dared to not make a sound.
For that moment at least.
But once he managed to get you alone while accompanying you to the worship room of a nearby temple, he confronted and confessed as to what he saw.
All before his hands cupped your cheeks, eyes boring into yours as he pleaded to be able to share affection with you in such a way as well, the tremor of his desire for you on each word.
You couldn't deny those teary, darling violet eyes of his.
When Buccellati was told of Narancia's inclusion to your lessons, his concern was less on your intimacy being shared than he was with Narancia's loose lips.
Even if they were happily kept quiet while he cradled you upon his lap, his tongue swiping at your lips before delving into your mouth as his hands fondled your thighs.
If word leaked out to the others about what was a tryst against the emperor, he feared inner clashing amongst the group.
Thus, as he constantly reminded, gentle yet stern, that Narancia should be mindful of both the words he uttered and his actions.
Those words were not heeded.
It was when your party had crossed the borders of Italia at last when your plans took a drastic change. Camp was set-up for the night and everyone was eating the dinner that Giorno rummaged while Mista hunted.
All except for you, Buccellati and Narancia.
Buccellati was out on patrol while you had gone to a nearby shrine to commune with the gods in prayer.
Narancia wasn't anywhere to be found, apparently having slipped off without a word around when you left with Buccellati.
Fugo bit hard into his bread, his eyes beginning to narrow in thought. He had certainly noticed a change in demeanor in Narancia--even you and Buccellati to an extent. There was a pure joy he exerted that matched an almost primal aura whenever he was seen hanging around you. Not to mention, he was volunteering for any task--from the most mundane to the most tedious--if it meant being with you.
His dinner would have to wait, for his curiosity was especially starved.
Though, the moment he rose up to go and check in on you, it appeared that he wasn't alone with his suspicions--given that Giorno, Mista and even Abbacchio wished to join him.
There was nary a soul by the shrine. Your prayers had been offered moments prior.
However, they needn't not even approach the shrine itself to find what they were looking for, as just lying upon the steps leading up to the holy construction had all that they needed.
Namely with you squirming beneath Narancia, your robes undone and messily sprawled beneath your body with your veil in disarray. Your breasts were fully free from your clothes, and yet weren't completely exposed with him hungrily kissing and suckling upon your nipples while he groped and massaged your chest.
Shock? Horror? Jealousy?
The other four were at a loss for how to process what they were seeing. One of their own was tangled intimately with the pure bride-to-be of the emperor, the very one they were to protect both the life and purity of.
And by Narancia's actions, they were doing the exact opposite.
Of which immediately sent Fugo into a snarling fury as he rushed on over to rip Narancia off of you by the seize of his hair.
"You damned fool! Just what do you think you're doing?!" He hissed angrily, nails digging into the other's scalp. "You may as well have spat upon the emperor himself! Do you know what will happen to you?!"
While Fugo was used to vicious defiance, Narancia surprisingly didn't hold up much resistance--rather, even going so far as to be open about his actions with the cry of, "I don't care what fate lies for me! I'll take the worst of it all if it means we can be together--even if it's just like this!"
Fugo's hand was drawing back, curling into a fist as he snarled out, "Idiot! You stupid idiot! You'll start caring when you're thrown into the Colosseum--!"
"What's going on--?!"
The sound of Buccellati's alarmed voice and hurried footsteps could be heard close by. The silence from camp was unsettling him while he made his rounds from patrol, his intuition calling for him to investigate.
Once he was within close range of you all however, Fugo was ready to strike. But before he could follow through with the act, the pair of hands that clasped over the one that had a fistful of Narancia's hair urged him to peace, while the innocent eyes that peered up at him made his grip weak and loose.
Narancia was freed, but Fugo's hand was taken into yours, only to be held with utter delicacy.
Having slipped the front of your robes back on, you were in a more presentable attire as you proceeded to kneel before Fugo in repentance, your expression pleading. "Fugo, please--if you must be angry, then take it out on me instead."
"Y-You...?" Fugo repeated, his eyes becoming wide as his skin paled. "On you-- I could never! That would be a sin!"
"And it would be fitting to a sinner like me," you confided just before drawing away from him slightly so you could look towards the others at last, your expression soft as it was remorseful. "This was all a result of my own inexperience, my own selfish desire to be intimate and desirable in bed for the emperor--my husband."
A shiver trailed began to crawl along Fugo's skin, right as the warm, tender heat of your lips brushing over his palm made him stiffen. In face of the others, all could feel the pangs of jealousy and need.
Eyes adoring yet pleading, you gazed right into his eyes as you asked, "Fugo, would you--" Your head tilted slightly to the side as you faced the others, "--would the rest of you guide me through?"
"Well, hey, if this is a request by the emperor's bride, then I'm all for it!" Mista blurted out, unable to hide the grin that spread over his initially shocked features. At last, this opportunity could ease the debaucherous dreams of you that kept him sleepless with arousal.
Amidst careful pondering, Giorno soon spoke afterwards, a thoughtful finger pressed to his cheek while he held your gaze with his own, "As the bride or not, it would be a shame upon us to allow you to continue dealing with your nervousness." His expression softening, he remarked, "We will be sure to handle you with care."
Aghast at Mista's and Giorno's agreement, Fugo immediately snapped his attention over to Buccellati. "Do you see all this?! Will you stand for this maddening affair, Buccellati?!"
He only let out a sigh, his head lowering slightly. "It was I who began this tryst in the first place, Fugo. I couldn't bear to even think of the oracle feeling uneasy on her wedding night."
Fugo's fingers finally relinquished their hold on Narancia's hair. However, this was also due to him taking a shaky step back upon hearing his superior's words. "Th-- This--!"
"Somehow, I'm not surprised. It's never like you to turn someone in distress down, status be damned," Abbacchio spoke up with a snort while he eyed his friend. His stare only shifted over back to you, taking in your pure, pleading expression for an indulgent second before he remarked. "...Tch, you're already in our care anyway. May as well follow through."
Now all eyes were on Fugo, who still looked to be at an utter loss for words on what he was witnessing and what he must soon answer. There were many a logical reason why everyone's intentions to assist you would only lead to a punishing downfall.
However, there was a hazy warmth that was clouding his judgment all too strongly for him to be rational.
And that sensation was being emanated from the sweet touch of your hands as they continued to hold his.
His lips parted, and though it took a bit of stumbling over his words to speak up, he soon declared, "...Fine. But only because I also don't want you to be uncomfortable on your wedding night."
Thus began your descent further into the murky, enticing depths of intimacy.
Even with the paved roads that allowed for swifter travel across the vast span of the Empire, it would still take much time before you all would return to Rome. And with that time, with every stay at an inn at a passing village, with every camp made for stops in-between, you were bestowed with so much knowledge by your capable teachers.
On some lazy afternoons, Buccellati showed you the pleasures of having a tongue as skilled as his swipe over your core. During certain afternoons, Giorno had you mewling by the swift, expert thrusts of his nimble fingers. And while Narancia still couldn't quite control his urges, he managed through by fucking in-between your closed thighs with earnest vigor.
As for Fugo, despite him joining in, he wasn't about to let your secrecy go unpunished, expressing this by the swift strike of his hand on your ass before his fingers delved between your thighs. After a grueling day of travel, Mista enjoyed lying back and putting your mouth to the test, coaching you through being able to fit and pleasure a cock as fat as his.
While your chastity was to be maintained, Abbacchio still readied you for what was to come as he eased his thick, heavy cock into your ass, all while his fingers toyed and massaged your slippery, dripping core. He pumped in and out of you slowly, even while his self-restraint was wearing thin.
Each had their own versions of patience while guiding you through pleasure, but above all they made sure to keep in mind of your feelings.
Whatever it took to put you at peace.
Whatever it took to make you theirs.
Even for just this fleeting but crucial moment.
All six knew in the end that you would be wed to a man that wouldn't be either of them, but they cherished you deeply regardless. Though they're part of the legion that defended Rome--and thereby you--for just these few moments shared did they want to be seen as your lovers.
And it was by this yearning that they were not aware of the ever growing shadow that lingered around your group as you traveled onward.
By now, the borders of Rome were in sight, with a multitude of flowers blooming in greeting as spring swept over the lands. Roses were scarce by around where you lived, and with your journey with Vento Aureo soon approaching to a close, Giorno wanted make your night stay at a nearby temple all the more special.
However, the rose that he picked for you never had the chance to be held within your fingers, to have their petals admired by your eyes.
Instead, the flower would be left scattered across the floor of the temple in desecration.
This blessed sanctuary was a holy place.
Where a mortal may seek out the presence of their beloved gods, perhaps offer a plea for blessings.
A place of sacrament and piety.
Far gone from where lands were conquered, the remnants cast off as the realm of barbarians.
Or so decreed the Emperor.
But here in this temple, on this night, what was transpiring in the main hall of worship was far from holy.
It was utterly depraved.
Especially to the six men who had to bear witness to it all, their arms bound, weapons seized, knees sunk to the floor.
The six who comprised the most powerful legion in all of the Roman Empire did not look as glorious as mighty as they were acclaimed to be.
Not as they watched you, the one they revered most out of anything in the world, be defiled by a man who both subdued them all in the first place, the very one who had no right to take your hand in marriage.
For as powerful as a man that he was, the Emperor was a man who carried himself in absolute secrecy. Never once showing his face to the public, always communicating to the masses by another Senator and the like. Few were even made privy to his full face, for he always kept on a crimson mask to those who actually had the chance to regularly speak to him, concubines included.
The same applied to Buccellati, Giorno, and even yourself, who was drawn to his alluring, charismatic aura and his quirks.
Such was why it was alarming that he would show himself to you all. Locks of pink speckled with forest green, a physique looming and chiseled, and an aura that was as powerful as it was threatening, the Emperor was here, his ornate face mask of onyx and silver changed to one that only covered his eyes.
But how else would he get to flaunt to the others of his right to drag his tongue along the spots of your neck where his teeth had sunken into?
The night that you had devoted so much of your time and practice to had come at last.
But far earlier than expected.
And merciless.
He had to demonstrate something both to you and to your guards after all.
With your robes and necklace tossed in a careless heap by where the roses of Giorno's rose layed, every inch of your naked form was exposed both to the man you were to wed and the men who you had slowly divvied up your heart in offering towards. By the presence of a large hand firmly holding onto your waist while the other squeezed and fondled your breasts, you were left to the whims of your fiance as he had you ride his cock while he furiously met your hips with vigorous thrusts.
By your shudders and mewls, your chastity had now been seized, all in full display of your guards.
But rather than the tenderness you hoped to draw out from your husband to be on your wedding night, this all seemed to be a punishing display not just to your guards, but to you yourself as well.
And by this, Buccellati's wrists burned as they strained within their bounds, the look in his narrowed eyes as furious as they were pained, a sentiment shared by Abbacchio who was snarling under his breath as he damned the gods above for forsaking their own disciple.
If not for their restrains, Mista would have already allowed arrow upon arrow to pierce the Emperor in the neck after the very moment he rescued you whereas Fugo would have poured poison down the ruler's throat to have him rot from the inside out.
Whereas Narancia's head was lowered, unable to bear the sight of you being treated in such a way as he wished a millennia within the depths of hell to his ruler, Giorno looked on ahead, his gaze fixed in a hard, vicious glare as he yearned to throw the Emperor into an endless pit of thorns.
Though aware of the ire being cast his way, the Emperor paid little head to it all.
"I had come to deal with the traitors of Risotto's legion after hearing word that they made a pact with the barbarians," the Emperor spoke up, his fragmented emerald eyes gleaming as he stared down the six. "I feared for the safety of my precious bride and thought to meet you halfway on the way over--and what do I find but to see my future wife being defiled by savages in disguise as Rome's warriors."
He was met by defiant glares.
"Savages?! Coming from someone who would handle his bride like you are?!" Narancia snapped while his eyes were lined with hot, angry tears. "I can hear it in her voice, I can see it on her face--you're not pleasuring her right at all!"
"Narancia--!" Fugo snapped his head towards his friend, his expression alarmed.
The Emperor did not pay any heed to this slight, especially with his temper subdued by the pleasure of your warm, slick heat squeezing around his cock.
Not to mention with what he had in store for you all.
"You would do well to keep watch of your future empress then," he droned on just before his voice dropped to a hiss, the hand on your breast moving to cup your chin while he pounded into you even harder. "All of you--may this forever burn in your memory that she belongs not to you, not to Rome, but to me."
And by this, he held onto you harder, keeping your form still while he ravaged you by the thunder fervor of his thrusts, fucking in you until his hot, sticky heat flooded into you. Though, by no means was he done with you just yet, having you indulge him for a few more rounds as part of the entertainment he planned for Vento Aureo on this night, concluding fully by having you clean his cock with your mouth as he offered you muted praise.
Though, even with their punishment now to its end, he felt that the fault of your six was still not fully compensated in return.
Especially when he proceeded to whisk you away while leaving the six bound, left to remain imprisoned until he sent guards to apprehend them.
Thus, from that moment henceforth on this horrid night, the prestige of the Vento Aureo was effectively tarnished, with all six dragged from their renowned titles to that of disgraced traitors, prisoners who would be dragged to the Colosseum to fight for their lives as entertainment to the masses.
In the meantime, while your future husband was away to fully squash the impending rebellion, you were to be taken to Sicily to be kept under watch until the Emperor's return for your wedding.
Your heart ached at the thought of your guards not only being punished by your own selfish request, but any chance to possibly save them were stamped out before you could open your mouth in protest, especially since your pleas were ignored by your very own lover.
Thus, on your first and final night within the main Roman palace before you would be taken to Sicily, you approached the adjoining temple to pray. With an earnest heart, you hoped that once you attained the status of empress, you would be able to save your guards from their fate and bring them back to their former glory.
In the mean time, you would call for their safety.
As you entered the temple however, a sense of unease began to creep within you. Even though it was night, there was nary a soul around. No priest, not even a guard.
This was especially alarming since you knew that an arrow crafted from the gods themselves was preserved and protected here. In fact, the significance of the arrow was part of the reason why the Emperor was so intent on marrying you in the first place.
You quickly approached the main altar where you knew the arrow to be located.
But the arrow was nowhere to be found.
Rather, there was a rose in its place.
Instinctively, you reached to grab onto the rose, only to wince as a small but notable piercing pain shot through your fingers.
How did you not see the thorn on the stem?
Though, more importantly, just where did this rose come from?
Especially since the moment that your skin made contact with the rose's thorn, the flower seemed to sprout and grow as if touched by the gods themselves. The rose stem jutted out and grew into a coiling vine, one that quickly ensnared around your wrists before leaving you bound to the main altar itself.
Right as this occurred, the main palace had been thrown into utter chaos.
Arrows flew through the air as though guided by the gods themselves, the fierce strike of an eagle unseen, and the signs of what could only be a devastating plague. Guards and politicians who fanatically upheld the word of the Emperor were found in ribbons while bits and pieces of your possessions seized to an almost obsessive degree.
Though, oddest of all was the peculiar nature of flowers growing within the palace.
The existence of these mysterious occurrences wouldn't be brought to your attention until much later.
However, the origin of the fierce, raging tempest turning the empire's capital inside and out soon revealed itself to you.
All by the warm and gentle heat that embraced you from behind.
"At last--you can see the beauty of a rose. Lovely, isn't it?"
The saccharine gentleness of Giorno's voice eased into your ear, the heat of his breath making you squirm from the ticklish effect that it caused. However, even with your movements, he did not once loosen his grip--rather, he tightened his hold around you, all while his fingers feathered along your arm, brushing over the restraining vines before clasping over the back of your hand.
Fingertips from his other hand clasped under your chin, having you turn your head to face him at last. Though his warrior attire had seen better days, he looked the same as before, there was an otherworldly aura that emanated off of him, one befitting that of the gods you devoted your life to servicing.
Not to mention the fact that your discarded necklace was now situated around his neck.
However, before you could take in the sight of him further, you watched as a small grin slid onto his features as his eyes narrowed into yearning stare.
"It makes you never want to let go of it."
And so Giorno's lips took possession of yours as he drew you into a kiss.
As this occurred, you could hear the sound of approaching steps, signalling the presence of others all too eager to join.
Or wait for any sort of turn once the vines around your wrists relinquished their hold.
Much like how their wrath descended upon the capital of the Emperor's Rome, so did their relentless love upon you, providing the night that you deserved and more as you were brought to and laid upon the temple's center.
There was always a constant of lips capturing your lips, mouths and fingers toying with your breasts, and the heavy but vigorous slaps of skin meeting skin.
"You are truly a blessing from the gods, meus deliciae," Buccellati purred, his tone at a molten husk while his lips brushed over the valley of your breasts. "You saved us from our fate, and now we can be by your side once again."
"And eviscerate anyone who would think to separate us again," Abbacchio added with a low snarl, his large hand still cupping your cheek, pausing the barrage of hungry kisses he subjected your lips to.
The delicate licks dragging along your inner thigh paused as Narancia huffed out, "Yeah--stupid Emperor thinking he could keep us away from you! He'll pay for taking you in the first place!"
"For once, I have to agree with Narancia," Fugo murmured, his lips pressed against your other thigh as they inched closer to the dripping spot between your legs. "I want to drop that bastard's head into hell myself."
Calloused fingers that were gently wrapped around your wrist began to squeeze, if only from the pleasured gasp of your name that Mista let out as he guided your hand over his clothed erection. "Before that, we'll make him watch how he could never love and pleasure you like we could!"
"Not him, or anyone else in this universe--mortal or god," Giorno hummed tenderly, his fingers stroking your head with absolute care all while his mind raced with his urgent need of ravaging you with his passion.
But this was a fate you were willing to welcome.
Left absolutely bare and open to the six men you entrusted all of yourself towards, you served as the middle between the hard and heavy physiques of Abbacchio and Buccellati, lying on top of the former while the latter loomed above you as both pounded into your core and ass in blissful unison at a rate that was as far as brutal as it was gentle. Fugo and Narancia were clamoring for the taste of your breasts and nipples, their mouths clamped and planted over your supple skin, whereas Mista and Giorno were biding their time by trailing the heavy, wet tips of their cocks along your mouth while smearing their pre-cum over your cheeks.
And even by the rush of climaxes that would soon transpire, by no means would they be through with you yet with all they had so patiently and willingly endured. Whether it meant being skewered between Giorno and Narancia as you were made to ride between both, or to have Fugo and Mista stuffing your mouth and core full of their cocks as they claimed you from both ends.
Thus with the Rome that many knew it to be today succumbing to encompassing light of the future, all right within the view of the gods themselves, you fully cast away your crumbling piousness in favor of the depraved yet pure love that was meant for you and you alone.