Your Life as a Vestal Virgin in Ancient Rome

You’re seven years old when a priest grabs your hand in front of a cheering crowd, and just like that, you belong to the goddess Vesta and the Roman government. You live in a marble palace with guards and power most men can’t touch, but make one mistake, like letting a sacred fire flicker, and you're getting beaten in secret while your attacker keeps his eyes covered for “modesty”.

You train for ten years to chant the right prayers, scrub temples, and interpret omens, all while sleeping in a building wired for politics, not comfort. Step outside, and people clear the streets for you like you’re divine royalty. Step out of line, and they’ll bury you alive with a loaf of bread and a lie about “fate”.

You’re part nun, part celebrity, part state hostage, and if you make it to the end of thirty years without scandal or suffocation, Rome might just let you walk away with your name, your wealth, and a body full of secrets no one’s allowed to write down.

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Your Life as a Vestal Virgin in Ancient Rome