imperator resurgit

[fiercefluffy.livejournal.com]

A handful of years had passed -- not many years, but eventful ones, to be sure. Antony vanquished, Atia at bay, the beginnings of a beautiful career in politics well-cemented, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus could sleep more soundly at night -- not very soundly, but more soundly.

Fortune favored him.

The last thing he needed (much less expected) was to find himself standing, togate and resplendent, within the popcorn room of a once-familiar castle.

His toga was sodden with animal grease, the kind favored by the barbarians of Germania. It could not even be a good olive oil, no, it must be butter. Pfah.

The best word for this situation was one of Pullo's favored exclamations, one Octavian seldom cared to use.

"Gerrae."