Murder in Family Decumius

“Go to bed!”
“No!”
Aemilia has been trying for over an hour to put her brother to bed.
It wouldn’t have been a problem if her brother was about 3 or 5 years old. But he was 14.
AND he was getting taller than her, which of course makes it harder.
“I will NOT repeat myself” she had said that five times before, “Go to bed!”
“No! I can’t!” he was starting to head out to the courtyard. Aemilia started chasing after him, lifting her dress so she doesn’t trip over it. She stopped right at the edge. She didn’t want to go under the rain.
“If you don’t go to sleep, you won’t grow tall!” shouted Aemilia. It was raining outside, but that didn’t seem to stop her brother.
He stopped and turned to look at her, the rain was pouring on him, “Sister, who are you fooling? I’m getting taller than you!” He walked towards Aemilia until they were face to face, “I think the only one who needs to go to sleep is you!”
He passed her and went in, his leather sandals leaving prints on the marble floor. “You’re leaving prints on the floor!” He left prints on the carpet, “On the carpet! Father is going to punish you for that.” Aemilia put her hands on her hips.
For sure Father was going to punish him. He had bought the carpet from an Egyptian merchant. It had been expensive.
Actually, now that she was thinking about it, Mother was the one who had convinced him to buy it. He had been rather indifferent to the whole thing. Aemilia’s train of thought was interrupted by her brother, who was now resting on, none other than, Father’s seat.
“Please, he never cared about that carpet.” He had his hands behind his head and a cocky look. “He never really cares about anything these days” he added, mumbling.
Before Aemilia could give him one of her two-hour lectures, that would make a senator proud, she heard their mother calling for them. “Aemilia? Children? Where are you?”
“She’s still calling us children…” mumbled her brother, Ianuarius. He was now sitting up, having left a wet print on the velvet material of Father’s seat. He didn’t like Mother.
Aemilia decided to ignore the stain, ( Father will deal with that), and decided to defend Mother, “It’s a habit.”
“A nasty one, at that.” mumbled Ianuarius as he got up and stretched. Leaving even more muddy, wet prints on the beautiful, rich red and brown carpet. “Please don’t move around. You’re still wet.” Aemilia went passed him. He was really dripping wet. Instinctively, she wrapped her white silk shawl around her tighter. “Mother! We’re here! In the dining room!”
Ianuarius mimicked her. She elbowed him. He laughed and, before she could reach the curtains that separated the dining room from the rest of the house, he grabbed her arm and hugged her.
Apparently, Ianuarius was even more wet then it looked. Her shawl fell to the ground, her arms and shoulders feeling the cold wind. Her silk dress was getting wet. She tried to free herself from his grasp but all it did was make him hug her tighter and, hence, ruin her dress even more.
“By Pompona, Ianuarius, let go of me this instant!” she said, angrily. “You’re making my clothes wet!”
What came after shocked Aemilia even more than a thunder strike sent by Jupiter himself.
Ianuarius had his head on top of her head, “Aemilia,” he said, in a serious voice, all the playfulness and sarcasm in his voice gone. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up, his face was dark and his eyes were covered by his dark brown hair. Aemilia smiled nervously, “What for?”
“For the way I misbehaved.” His grip was loosening but still Aemilia couldn’t move away.
“What are you saying, stultus?” Aemilia was still smiling nervously, but the smile was wavering.
Just then, Mother came in the room.
“Mother!” Aemilia was surprised that her brother still had her in a supposed death grip. She looked at his face, his gaze was looking at something that was behind her. “Mother, Ianuarius, I don’t-” she looked back at Mother, who wasn’t alone. Something silver was shining at her pale throat.Mother was wearing her sleeping robes. Her golden hair all in tumbles by which a metal-covered hand was grabbing from the top and pulling her head back. Behind her, a man dressed in silver armor and, underneath it, red and green clothes. A roman soldier.
“Aemilia!” shouted Mother.
“Be quiet!” hissed the roman soldier, pressing the silver dagger even more into her throat.
Aemilia didn’t trust herself to speak. But she had to think of something. It must be only one man, there cannot be anyone else. Maybe there is a way out of this.
“Don’t think about it.” said the roman soldier, the traitorous bastard.
“I should tell you, our father is a centurion of one of the most prestigio-”
“Save your breath, puella.” Aemilia froze, she was still in her brother’s arms. The voice was deep and, worst, it came from behind her.
Something started moving from behind, slowly.
She shouldn’t, but… “D-don’t c-call m-me p-pu-puella!” Aemilia tried to turn. Ianuarius grabbed her tight, and almost in a whisper said, “Don’t move.”
Suddenly, movement flashed, a twang was heard, and Aemilia felt something cold touching just under her diaphragm.
Ianuarius’ grip seemed to loosen.
She didn’t want to but she looked up. He was shocked but he was smiling that troublesome smile she knew all her life. He was in pain. In his warm, brown eyes, the light was fading slowly.
Ianuarius pushed himself softly away, an arrow poking out of his stomach. Blood pouring out… falling to the floor… in drops.
Aemilia thought she heard each and every drop of blood. Her brother’s blood. As they fell to the ground.
Everything slowed down. It was just Aemilia and Ianuarius, her wonderful, little brother.
He was in pain. Terrible pain, but that smile stayed.
But that smile faded as another arrow hit him. That went through the heart.
Ianuarius looked at Aemilia for the last time before falling to the ground, face first. Blood was pouring out of him, creating a deep red puddle.
Aemilia couldn’t move. She stood there, as the blood reached her sandals.
She fell onto her knees, looking at her brother’s corpse as blood poured out of him. Aemilia wasn’t there.

Aemilia didn’t hear Mother yelling for guards.

Aemilia didn’t see how the roman guard sliced Mother’s throat.

Aemilia didn’t feel as someone from behind her, grabbed her and pulled her up, pressing a cold dagger against her throat, as guards entered the room.

Notes

Hi, guys. I'll be continuing the story on this account.
I am truly THIS Lolig, so don't think that someone 'took' my story. Ok?

(Who would steal a story written by a girl named Tomato)?

I'll also have some of the original notes:
.... WHAT DO YOU THINK?
-Uh, let's calm down a bit.
- Sorry, sorry. I'm a bit nervous and..
-Shut up, it's you who does long ass notes after EACH and EVERY freakin' chapter!-But... but...
-No. Let them enjoy the story and THEN you comment and blah, blah, blah.
Dear reader, she is not a well-known writer, but writes a lot and it can get a bit annoying. For that, we say sorry. And enjoy reading.
-*Grumbles in the background*

I'll also be updating. Enjoy!