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Julia Quintus

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About Julia Quintus

  1. Iulia Quinta -- or Julia Seiben, as she was now starting to get used to being addressed by -- blew lightly on her new manicure as she stepped out onto the lovely balcony of her palace, overlooking Lake Geneva. She dearly missed the wonderful near-seaside villa that had been her family's treasure for generations, but this was a pleasant enough substitute, at least until winter came. For now, she was happy to relax in the Castle Seiben, surrounded by servants who were just as well-mannered as the slaves she had owned on Magna Roma, and kept marginally busy by her new, "ambassadorial" duties as aide to her husband, the new diplomat to her world. As far as her political marriages had gone, this one seemed rather pleasant. Her first husband, Decimus Currius, was a wealthy man, but that was where the attraction had ended. Even his residence was less than pleasant; he lived in a set of cramped insulae near the city center, where he could barter for political prominence among the plebs more easily. The second marriage her brother had arranged, to Gaius Angustius, had been even more of a disaster because of that whole gods-forsaken affair regarding her ill-fated pregnancy. At least marrying off-world had rid her of hearing daily the cruel comments of her well-born "friends" regarding that nightmare. Julia frowned, taking a seat on the chaise and reaching for the plate of cheese and grapes that one of the servants -- Magda, she believed was her name (how very Germanic it was, but then so were all of them) -- had brought. She was well aware that the only reason that her brother had been able to marry her off at all was that he had become a consul, and any marriage that involved the sister of a consul was desirable, even if the sister herself was not. She knew she was far from beautiful, but she also knew that political ties, an old name and even older money could disguise even a leprous female's faults in the eyes of a husband. Even so, she had never felt particularly confident with regards to her husbands. She had acquired a reputation for being rather shrewish, especially when it came to the prettier female slaves of the household and the attractive sisters of her husbands' friends. She had always suspected them of improper intentions -- and in Decimus's case, she had been quite correct, though the amount of money that had been given back to the family Quintus upon their divorce to keep the matter quiet had been sizable. And even though she and Gaius had parted on good terms and remained friends, and their divorce was for political reasons not personal -- even in spite of her whole pregnancy affair -- she always felt as if something had been lacking in her marriages. And now? Now, she had a husband who had fought for her, battled for her even before he had loved her. Even if Rolf's emotions had been at first ruled by a desire to maintain good relations with her brother -- as all of her husbands' had been -- neither of the others had ever risked losing their military commands in order to preserve their marriage. It was sad, but sweet, really. The whole matter of why there had been a tribunal at all still confused Julia, much like when she turned off her universal translator and tried to speak Standard without it. She understood about twenty percent of what was going on, another twenty percent was vaguely familiar, but the rest left her very confused and feeling light-years, or perhaps more accurately, millennia removed from the world around her. But now both of them were safe on Earth, she had an extremely prestigious position as the ambassador's wife, and now they also were... Well. She had not exactly told Rolf about that yet. She wasn't quite sure how to approach the topic, and was waiting until the issue was more obvious before she sprang the news on him. After all, he already had three children to whom he was very devoted, even if his lupa of a wife had left him just before his mission to Magna Roma. Heading back down the grand staircase into the heart of the castle, she contemplated a dinner, just for the two of them. Her dear husband would be soon home from his work in Paris, and she decided that she would tell him the news then. Heading into the kitchens to choose a proper vintage for him to celebrate the occasion, she looked through the recent shipment of wines from her family's vineyards; it was a pity she could not indulge, but at least Rolf could. A 2387 Dolcetto, perhaps. Julia smiled, making arrangements with the servants. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she told him the news.