Cassandra “casey” Gracchus - Blog Posts

An Unwanted Marriage (Marcus Acacius x Female OC)

Chapter 1: The Birth of Cassandra Gracchus

Summary: General Marcus Acacias, misled by lies about his shy, bookish wife, treats their arranged marriage with cold disdain. Despite her quiet efforts to connect, his harshness drives her to retreat. When he uncovers the truth about her father’s deception, Marcus must confront his guilt and choose between repairing their bond or letting pride destroy it. A/N: This is just a modified version of the full summary which is available to read on the Masterlist

Warning(s): Mentions of childbirth and death

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"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." – Marcus Aurelius

The grand estate of Senator Gracchus had been bustling with excitement in the days leading up to the birth of his first child. The news had spread quickly across Rome—the senator’s wife was going to bring a new life into the world, a child that would be celebrated as a symbol of his legacy. Yet, that celebration would never come.

Inside the birthing room, all was chaos.

“Doctor! Help her!” Senator Gracchus’ voice thundered, panic thick in his words. His normally composed demeanor had shattered, replaced by frantic energy as he paced beside his wife’s bed.

Antonia, his wife, had been in labor for hours. Her cries of pain echoed through the marble halls, but something was wrong. The doctors, gathered around the bed, exchanged nervous glances. They had hoped for a smooth delivery, but now they feared the worst.

“Push, madam! Push!” one of the doctors commanded, his hands steady but his voice strained. He tried to reassure her, but it was clear that time was running out.

Antonia, drenched in sweat, gripped the sides of the bed, her face contorted in agony. “I can’t… it hurts…” she gasped.

Senator Gracchus, normally unshaken, now loomed over her, his face tight with worry. His fists were clenched, his entire body vibrating with fear as he leaned in close to her ear.

“You must, Antonia. For the child. Please.”

The room held its breath as she pushed once more. There was a sickening pause.

The baby emerged into the world, lifeless.

The silence in the room was suffocating. No cry. No sound of life.

“Why isn’t she crying?” Gracchus shouted, his voice rising in terror. He turned to the doctors, his voice barely controlled. “Why isn’t she crying?!”

The lead doctor immediately moved toward the baby, his hands deftly performing chest compressions, trying desperately to coax the infant to breathe. “Come on, little one,” he muttered, his voice a soft prayer, “please.”

The tension in the room felt unbearable, every second stretching into eternity. Senator Gracchus could barely look at the scene before him. His wife, pale and trembling, lay motionless, blood staining the sheets beneath her. Her chest rose and fell weakly, but she wasn’t responding.

“Doctor, what’s happening to her?!” Gracchus demanded, his voice breaking. His heart was in his throat.

The doctor did not answer immediately, his hands working quickly. Then, finally, he looked up with grim realization. “Senator, there’s too much blood loss. Her heart is failing.”

“No!” Gracchus cried out, stepping closer to his wife’s side. “No, please, you can’t take her from me now! She can’t die. She just can’t!”

But Antonia’s blood continued to flow, a river that would not stop. The room became a blur of movement, the sounds of the doctor’s desperate instructions to the others blending with Gracchus’ frantic cries.

Then, just as hope seemed to slip away, a small sound broke through the tension—the tiniest of breaths from the newborn. The baby gasped for air, and then another, a soft cry.

The doctor stopped his compressions, his eyes wide in surprise. “She’s alive… the child is alive!” he said, relief flooding his voice.

Gracchus, shaking with emotion, looked down at the newborn in the doctor’s arms. She was so small, her fragile cries filling the room with life. He had forgotten to breathe for a moment, his body tense with the mix of relief and horror.

But his wife, Antonia, did not stir. Her hand, once warm, was now cold. Her lips were ashen. Gracchus turned to her again, his voice catching in his throat. “Antonia? Please… don’t leave me.”

It was too late.

The child was alive, but her mother… her mother was gone. The room fell into a stunned, sorrowful silence. Gracchus stood there, paralyzed by grief, as the newborn was gently placed into his arms.

The babe, still fragile, let out another tiny wail, but all Gracchus could do was stare down at her, his heart shattered in two. This child, this little girl, was his heir—but she was also a reminder of everything lost in that moment.

A mother was gone, and with her, a piece of his soul.

“She’s Cassandra,” Gracchus whispered, his voice hoarse with the weight of sorrow. “Cassandra Gracchus.”

As the hours passed, the estate that had been prepared for celebration now stood in mourning. A birth that should have been the beginning of something bright had instead marked a tragic end.

And as Gracchus looked down at his daughter’s innocent face, his heart hardened into something cold. He would raise this child, but she would never fill the emptiness his wife left behind. She would be a symbol of loss, a reminder of the cost of life.

In that moment, as he gazed into the eyes of the newborn, Gracchus swore that he would never allow her to forget the price she had paid for her existence.