In those days, when the Tiber was still navigable, you could reach Rome by boat. The still smoldering ruins of Ficana were a helpful landmark to find the river delta, and as one turned into the river, under the gaze of the fresh garrison of Ostria, the water turned from salty to sweet.

At that point, your ship's captain (if he was competent, and eager to impress you) would order the sails to be lowered and the sweeps to be put out, and the ship would begin the long pull against the stream.

You would stop at nightfall, half way to the city that all roads would one day lead to, beaching the shallow long boat on a low bank, staring late into the fire as the exhausted sailors snored around you and the wolves howled in the hills above.

That was how I returned to the city of Rome in the year that would now be known as 601 BC. When we had docked the captain offered me his hand off the ship.

"Shall I accompany you?" he offered gallantly. "Strange towns are no places for ladies to walk alone."

"I have been here before," I said, and that did surprise him, for I had made no mention of it when I had hired his ship for the passage. And, in truth, Rome had changed much since my last visit. But I had learned from one or two unpleasant experiences that it never did to tell a man your age. "I shall return to the ship tomorrow."

I was half way up the Palatine Hill when a procession of men in horseback trotted briskly down the road towards the harbor that I had come from.

Several of those around me muttered, "The king", and the crowds parted.

The king, I thought, and wondered whether this descendant of Romulus would resemble his ancestor. It was that curiosity that led me to linger a moment too long in the middle of the street.

"Make way for the king," came a shout from the riders, and I was almost knocked aside by one of the outriders as they swept by. Stumbling backwards, it took me a moment to realize that the horses had come to an abrupt halt, and one of them was now wheeling back in my direction.

A heart beat later he had dismounted, and then there were no heart beats, because I looked up into his eyes and time, which chases mortals so relentlessly, chose to hesitate for the two of us that it has no claim over.

For that timeless moment his brown eyes locked with my green ones. Was it my imagination or did I see the old look in them?

"So," he said roughly, "it's you."

Imagination, then. He was still bitter after all these years.

"It's good to see you again," I said.

He snorted. "What bring's you to my city?"

"Your city?"

"This is King Tarquin," said a stiff soldier who had appeared next to me, hand on a sword. Time had evidently caught back up with us.

"It's Tarquin now, is it?" I said. "And a king?"

"The King," corrected the soldier. "Bow, woman."

I stared indignantly at the man who now went by Tarquin, and he smirked back, amused. The soldier's grip on his sword tightened. I inclined my head half an inch. Immortality, after all, does not mean that a sword through your guts doesn't hurt. Ask me how I know.

"It's alright, Lucius," Tarquin said. "I know this witch of old. Tell me, what name do you go by now? It is still Calypso?"

"No," I said, and sought around for a name. But my mind betrayed me in my moment of need, and the only name I could think of was Tarquin, which would not do. I blurted out, "I am called Tar- Tanaquil."

"Are you?" he said skeptically. "And what brings you Rome? More mischief?"

"None of your business," I said tartly.

"As King of Rome, everyone's business here is my business."

"Then I shall become Queen," I said.

"And how do you intend to do that? Is this another proposal of marriage?"

"I plan to depose you," I said.

He actually laughed, the pig. Then he said, "Come, it's been too long. Ride with me, and tell me what you been up to since I left your island."

The soldier Lucius watched the tall woman with with hair of gold walk off with the King, and frowned. He had heard the King mention the name Calypso once before, when he had drunk too many glasses of harvest wine and fallen into a loquacious melancholy, and told a particularly long story. Lucius tried to remember what the story had been about, for the king told many stories. How had it begun? Something about the men of Ithaca stealing the Sun God's cattle...

'How in the blasted blazes?!'

Suddenly it becomes very awkward. My royal guards stiffen in response, my wise men, drunk as they were stopped, and my guest, the man who had saved the kingdom looked on with fiery vengeance in his eyes, he reached for his sword, but found nothing there. He was meeting the benevolent king of course.

'You bastard! I'll, I'll...'

He looks around at first for a weapon to use, then notices the innocent guards. I can see it on his face, his face turns and twists deciding whether to kill them or not. After all, he'd killed many of my guards before. Luckily this time I was prepared for the eventuality since last time, unexpected as him coming back, loyal guards are a damn hard commodity to find.

'John, shalayla, rick, Sam, he is fine, he oversteps his bounds a little but hey, this is a time of revel! Think of your families, why I think it's going to be little max's birthday soon, I can't believe I was callous enough to keep you here in a time of celebration, enjoy some time with your family, you can have a week of PTO. Use it wisely, and do tell me how the birthday went Sam? Thank you kindly.'

The guards shuffled out the room awkwardly as I said

'It's fine. It's fine, I'll deal with the matter with a gentle hand, I'm so happy the kingdom is safe. Please use this time to bring the most joy for yourself and represent the kingdom you are a part of.'

They move a bit more confidently, emboldened by kind words and propaganda, rick stops and looks at me worriedly, and I look back with the perfect smile of joyful ease, perfected over some time of practice. He left. We were alone with the wise men, he had no qualms about them yet, and to be frank, I didn't care that much either. Drunkards.

'Um, I'm sorry, I'm terrible with faces, what is your name, again?' Uhhh my phones about to die so part two will be continued on computer.

“Your Majesty, Queen Aurora Calystegia, first of her name, May I present the mighty heroine, the Knight Sorceress Lady Beneficent the Good!” The herald by the entrance of the great throne hall, shouted

A majestic lady entered the hall. She was wearing a subtle yet blindingly white long sleeve dress of chiffon silk that waves on each on her steps towards the throne. On her top, she was wearing a shinning silver armor intricately carved with laurels and symmetrical patterns. On her right hand is a walking stick of white oak embellished by a clear shimmering crystal on its top where she holds it. And on her head is a huge silver crown that you could mistaken for a pair of horns protruding backwards, like the gazelle’s. She walks with full grace and her head held up high and halted at the foot of the dais.

“Beneficent.” The queen whispered under her breathe.

“Quite a glittering assemblage, Queen Aurora! I was quite surprised receiving a grandeur invitation!”

“I am too was surprised to see a ‘familiar’ face.” The Queen condescendingly replied.

“Oh dear, what an awkward situation. I never recall ever meeting you in person prior to this, Your Majesty.” Beneficent answered as she stares directly to the Queen’s eyes, trying to recognize which of the poor unfortunate souls she have tormented this was.

“I just thought I already knew you.” Aurora continued.

“I hope you are not offended, Your Grace.” Beneficent starts to fidget the crystal on her staff.

“Why no! And to show I bear no ill will, I will grant you a very special gift.” Aurora answered. Beneficent remembers. Her eyes widens and an air bubble got stuck in her throat.

The Queen stood, “Listen well all of you! The Knight Sorceress shall indeed be honored as the great heroine of this kingdom…” They crowd began to applaud. Cheers and jeers echoed the hall.

The Queen raised her right hand to ease the crowd, “But on the sunset of the sixteenth day of the kingdom’s festival, Beneficent the Good shall be appointed new Marchioness of the kingdom’s borders to the South. She will guard the Kingdom from the Creatures of the Moorsland. And will be charged to KILL the Queen of the Moors!”

Beneficent froze from where she stood, trying to digest each and every word the Queen said. ‘Did that little ***** just made a fool out of me? The Mistress Evil!’ She thought to herself as she squints her eyes towards the Queen.

“The sixteen days of festivities, I am now officially starting! Rejoice ‘Beneficent the Good’.” The Queen did not break her eye contact with Beneficent.

Beneficent tapped her walking stick three times to the marble floor and an explosion of green smoke covered her. This was followed by strong gust of winds and she just disappeared.

Turns out it was an isekai situation.

Larian the archmage led his party towards the Demon King’s castle. They carved a bloody path towards the throne room and confronted the Demon King head on.

After a long and violent battle, in which his entire party was wiped, Larian also found himself at deaths door, hanging limply in the hands of the Demon King.

The Demon King was uttering a long monologue about something or another, but Larian’s hearing was shot and his mind in turmoil, only a faint buzzing sound ringing in his ears, as he came to grips with having failed the mission.

As the Demon King continued cheerfully gloating, Larian felt a sliver of mana gathering in his body, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he immediately summoned every ounce of strength he had remaining and called forth the most destructive magic he knew.

‘Explosion…’

With that Larian was no more.

…

After which followed the standard Isekai tropes, Larian found himself in a white room facing a goddess. She thanked him for bringing peace to the world, and called upon him once again to take up arms to face a new emerging threat.

With that Larian found himself back in the Eledor continent but this time 400 years into the future.

…

The world was devastated by the emergence of dungeons. Invaders from another world seeking to weaken and then eventually conquer the realm.

With full support from the Wise King, and backing of the entire kingdom. Larian, once again gathered companions and allies, he delved into dungeon after dungeon, fought stronger and stronger opponents, suffered uncountable setbacks and losses, but eventually stood victorious.

…

Hailed as the nations hero, Larian found himself at an extravagant award ceremony at the Capital. The wise King himself wished to grant him any boon he so desired.

The Wise King went on a long monologue about something or another, but Larian wasn’t paying attention, for he was distracted by something else. The Wise King seemed awfully familiar…

As the Wise King continued cheerfully gloating about his own contributions of support to the Hero, it finally occurred to Larian.

“ITS YOU!!!”

…

The Wise King found himself in a bit of an awkward situation. Turns out the Gods were so fed up with his antics, that they finally sent someone to expose him.

After thousands of years toying with the world, bringing it to the edge of destruction with one hand, then switching sides and reversing the flow with the other, the Wise King, for the first time in a long time, found himself in a situation he hadn’t experienced before…

The pawn he used, turned out to be an agent of the goddess, the fame and power he helped the pawn to gather turned around to become the very noose around his own neck.

As the former Wise King stood at the gallows, with the crowd jeering and calling for his head, he began thinking about what role he should take on next when his body eventually regenerated.

‘I haven’t been a phantom thief yet, that could be fun’.

Was it guilt? Fear? No, it was confusion, as his conceptions of his immortality were now gone. A reasonable reaction in the grand context of things, but not to the person standing before him. Not to the man who was tortured by the immortal king for what was originally a lifetime.

"How?"

That's what both of them wanted to ask. Faced with what was once their worst enemy, but now as allies through circumstances within the other's control.

The king brought to power as he took on the blade of the broke knight, reconsidering his actions once more. To the king, it was normal to him. To be questioning his morals, as the kingdoms change theirs as well.

The knight first experienced power through immortality, though only by happenstance. The discarded goblet with the smallest everlasting drop of liquid, refurbished for use and unknowingly mixed with a celebratory glass of wine. Originally ironic in his incoming demise, but now a miracle to the hero who found himself alive hours later.

Being immortal gives time for reflection. Something the knight only began realizing recently. His desires for revenge faded as he forgot the king. Something the king knew centuries ago.

They were the same tailored cloak, made from different fabrics, and the difference from a century to multiple centuries made no difference to either. Though the encounter may have been surprising to both, they realize now that they have the same goal.

When one measures one's life in millenia, boredom becomes an ever present companion thought Faveous as he sat through his thousandth classical recital. The musicians were good, some of the best he had heard in at least five centuries but he remembered when this tune was composed by a group of bards who had used it to rally the people against an evil despot. They had not played nearly as well as these fine court musicians but the heart in their music was ever so much more moving.

It had been a shame to have to execute them but the people had not been inspired enough to really fight and overthrow their "evil despot." They knew of the terrible things done but it hadn't directly impacted them. Having each of the bards brutally tortured to death over the course of days had brought a lot of inspiration to the people. They had managed to come together and overthrow him. The Republic of Lystana was founded and embraced their bardic inspiration by founding a college of music.

Faveous chuckled softly at the thought that ripping entrails slowly out of a bard is what led to him almost enjoying this recital...but if only it had the passion of those bards that he had executed.

"Finding something funny, m'liege?" said a voice softly from his left. Faveous looked over at his current queen, Alanna. Beautiful, well connected, and young, she had caught his eye while he was still married to the previous queen. Though Alanna expected to rise high, the stellar rise to Queen had left her unsure of herself and so she still lacked the confidence to even call him by his name despite him being quite the easy going benevolent king this time around.

"Just remembering the last I had heard this song. It was a lovely performance." He smiled with his most winning smile, channeling a small amount of power through his emerald on his pinkie to make his smile somewhat more appealing. They had only been wed for a fortnight and his charm had yet to enthrall her completely yet.

"Ah yes! It was played at your coronation with the queen when you went from King consort to King. I am glad you can look happily on your memories of the queen, m'liege." Faveous did not recall this song being played at the coronation but he had been quite occupied with making sure everything went correctly so maybe that wasn't too surprising he thought. Surprisingly, Alanna really sounded like she meant that she was happy he could remember the previous queen happily.

"Yes, her wasting disease took her from me but I won't let it take my memories of her," he commented while watching her for the slightest jealousy. He usually found women to be very territorial and even death didn't stop it but he saw no jealousy in her. Surprises were so rare in his immortal life that Faveous did decide to cherish this one for a while as he turned back to the music.

Slowly the music began to die down as the song came to a finish. Faveous was wrapped in his thoughts of past times as foreign dignitaries were introduced. Their introductions didn't even register as he just nodded and wished them well.

The skree sound of a sword being drawn brought him back into the present and he noticed the dignitaries from Lystana in front of him. His eyes locked to the man who had drawn his sword and shock rippled through him. It was the leader of the rebellion against him. The man who had brought those bards together to make that song against him. A man he had tortured almost to death multiple times only to heal and then let him go.

"Trimbal! Time might have changed you but I recognize you. I shall chop off your head as I did when I threw you down in Lystana." Words shocked Faveous as he looked nothing as he did when in Lystana. Magic had long since changed his appearance and even the strongest of magics would not be able to detect those changes any longer. Faveous felt a thrill that he hadn't felt in over a hundred years. He was not bored any longer.

His guards had not been slacking and they stood with their swords drawn already around the armed man. More surprising though was that Alanna had placed herself between the swordsman and him, "You mistake our good king, sir. He has raised this kingdom up and supported us in the hardest of times. You bare steel in his presence so you deserve death but he will probably forgive you for it."

A perfect set up for what I wanted thought Faveous. "Yes, indeed. Queen Alanna is quite correct in this. Sir, put up your sword I would not have your blood spilled at this fete. You have mistaken me for someone else for I am King Faveous, I do not know this Trimbal that you seek. Guards step back from him, allow him to sheathe his sword. Only attack if he advances."

"Trimbal, you lie. I know you do. I can smell the stink of your years on you. I am Solvarion but I need not tell you. I saw the recognition in your eyes when I drew on you but I do not want to harm others either," with that Solvarion sheathed his sword and at a gesture from Faveous the guards parted to let him depart. The other delegates from Lystana left with him fearfully casting glances over their shoulder as they probably wondered what Solvarian had got them into.

Alanna turned to him with fire in her eyes, "My king, you can not allow that man to disrespect you like that." Faveous just smiled at her as he felt the exhilaration of boredom leaving him as the mysteries of Solvarion played in his mind. Sol had managed to keep Faveous from boredom two centuries ago and it looked like he might do it again. Everything just seemed more interesting now.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

[removed]