Rogue of Taurus

Livia sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the match papers before her. She had a pen between her teeth as she thought about how to phrase them. After spending the evening with Corvin last night, she felt more clear-headed about the situation.

A knock came at her door. She stood and opened it. Hyrum stood there. He stepped forward, and his stocky build filled the entire door frame. For an instant, Livia wondered if Hyrum was angry with her. Then she caught sight of the eager expression in his brown eyes. Hyrum’s sharp features and short buzz cut made it easy to assume he was angry or disapproving when he wasn’t.

“Hey?” she greeted.

Hyrum’s voice was enthusiastic. “Liv! It worked! The Aquila senators are going to vote to pass the reform bill. But we need to get one more vote! That’s it! One. And I have an idea.”

Hyrum gave her a speculative look.

“Oh no,” Livia took a step back. “How am I involved?”

“I need you to invite Ancus Sempronius to dinner.”

Livia hesitated. She remembered her last run-in with Ancus Sempronius. She’d been short with him, irritable. She wondered if he’d hold that against her. It served him right, though, for being a nosy Rattus. Livia despaired at herself internally. Hadn’t she decided she didn’t want to be that way?

Hyrum took Livia’s hesitance for confusion and explained, “He’s the oldest son of the Paterfamilias of Rattus House and the youngest senator in the Senate.”

Thanks to Irene, Livia knew a nauseating amount about Ancus now. The teen couldn’t stop explaining how rich he was, charming, and handsome. It made Livia hate the man. She tried to stall while she devised an excuse to avoid this situation. “How exactly am I supposed to meet up with him?”

“They are attending the public Saturnalia festival this weekend. All you need to do is go and talk to him.”

“Hyrum, I’m not a public festival person—”

Hyrum brushed that aside. “You did fine at the parade this fall.”

“Because Corvin helped me!”

Hyrum insisted, “You have to represent Taurus House anyway. Corvin will go too. Have him help you again.”

Livia looked into Hyrum’s eyes. How could she say no? She didn’t have the luxury of having petty judgments here. There were people who needed to feed their children and provide them with shelter and clothing.

Livia sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Hyrum clapped his hands together, thrilled. “Thank you, Liv!”

Livia returned to her match papers after Hyrum left. She should be as logical as possible. The simplest thing was to reverse the phrases that Corvin had in his proposal. First, to undo the prohibition against abortions. Second, claim any illegitimate child as Taurus House.

Livia hesitated. It didn’t make sense to claim a house for a kid you were willing to abort. Livia massaged her temples. She did not feel equal to doing this. How could you write a contract for every possible contingency life throws at you?

Livia crossed out the first line again and decided to change the wording. She gave herself the sole authority to make medical decisions for the fetus. That protected her rights and didn’t allow Corvin to force her to get an abortion if he wanted one. Still, it didn’t allow him to forbid her if she found the circumstances necessary. It also, she hoped, forbade Lars and Gaius from having any legal interference. Was that a thing?

There was an ancient Roman law that the Paterfamilias controlled whether their family lived or died. How much power did a Paterfamilias have over these decisions now? And could a contract stop them?

Livia shook off that question to continue, though the thought plagued her. Who could she ask these questions? Not Gaius or Lars. Maybe not Corvin. You don’t ask the person you want to have less power over you about how exactly to do that. That would be foolish.

The child would be Taurus House. Child support? Medical payments? What should she demand? What could she request without needing to offer something reciprocal in exchange? Custody? Visitation? Was she going to cut Corvin entirely off from his child because she wanted to control everything? Is that what was required to be safe?

Livia put her face in her hands and sighed. Did Caesarea have different laws about custody rights? How enforceable were they? She didn’t want to raise a child in Caesarea, where everyone hated her, if she didn’t end up with Corvin. So, she added a line to ensure she couldn’t be forced to live in Caesarea.

Then Livia imagined raising a baby alone in a city where she knew no one. How long did it take a Taurus woman to recover from childbirth? Was everything she heard about childbirth relevant? Or were there Taurus-specific things she didn’t know about? Her mother had always had difficult deliveries. Did that mean Livia would have the same?

How did she know what assistance to require from Corvin if she didn’t know the general answers to these questions? A pit formed in Livia’s stomach. Should she even be in a relationship with someone if she didn’t know these things?

Livia’s chest ached as the anxiety and uncertainty she’d battled against all day overwhelmed her again. Why did she always need to fight so hard to learn the most basic things about her body?

Maybe I can call Mom and ask.

Livia knew there never was just asking with her mother. There was always some price attached. Maybe she could call Flavia? Could Livia trust Flavia? Her throat tightened as she thought about how Bella had been angry over Livia’s relationship with Corvin. Getting in the middle of a mother-daughter relationship might be a bad idea.

She could ask Clara Porcius, maybe. But that seemed weird. They didn’t have that type of relationship, and could she trust Clara to keep her mouth shut? Livia’s mom lived across the country and never intended to return to Caesarea again. It may be safer to keep these questions outside of Caesarea.

Besides, Livia’s mom was related to her. She could warn her about weird genetic things she should expect, right? Livia could do this.