Alaric, king of the Visigoths, stood atop a hill overlooking Rome’s crumbling walls in 410 CE, his breath sharp with the scent of smoke and victory. The Eternal City sprawled before him, its once-proud towers scarred by siege, its gates trembling under his army’s relentless hammer. He gripped his sword, the blade notched from countless kills, and felt a grim satisfaction coil in his chest. Rome had bled his people dry for centuries—taxes, wars, betrayals—and now he’d rip its heart out. Mercy wasn’t in his nature, not tonight. His thoughts churned with vengeance. Let them beg. Let them burn.

  The night air carried the clash of steel and screams from below, where his warriors tore through Rome’s defenses. Alaric’s horde was a tide of fury—Visigoths, outcasts, and slaves who’d joined his cause, all hungry for plunder and retribution. He’d planned this for years, ever since Rome’s emperors scorned his pleas for land and honor. They called him barbarian, but he’d show them what that word meant. His mind flickered to the city’s wealth—gold, silks, lives—all his for the taking. He’d carve his name into history with fire.

  Alaric’s lieutenants shouted reports, their voices hoarse. The Aurelian Walls were breached; the Salarian Gate had fallen. He nodded, his scarred face unreadable. Good. Let fear choke them. He thought of Rome’s senators, fat with corruption, cowering in their villas. He’d drag them out, make them kneel before he gutted them. His people deserved this, he told himself. The Visigoths had starved while Rome feasted. Now, the tables would turn. A cold smile twisted his lips as he pictured the Tiber running red.

  He spurred his horse forward, descending toward the city. Torches flickered in the distance, marking his army’s path of destruction. Alaric’s thoughts were iron. No quarter, no weakness. Rome had built its empire on bones, and he’d repay the debt tenfold. His warriors parted for him, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust. They chanted his name, a drumbeat that fueled his resolve. He was their king, their avenger, and tonight, he’d be their god. The city’s temples, its forums, its people—all would kneel or break.

  As he neared the shattered gates, a strange hush fell, like a storm holding its breath. Alaric’s horse snorted, uneasy. He frowned, scanning the shadows. His thoughts sharpened. A trap? Romans were snakes, always scheming. But no arrows flew, no legions charged. Instead, the ground quivered faintly, a rhythm too steady for siege engines. The air grew warm, almost sweet. His warriors faltered, muttering. Alaric’s grip tightened on his sword. Something was wrong. Something was coming.

  Alaric’s eyes narrowed as he halted his horse just shy of Rome’s breached Salarian Gate, the eerie quiver in the ground growing stronger. His warriors hesitated, their chants fading into uneasy murmurs, torches casting jittery shadows across the blood-slicked stones. The air, thick with smoke moments ago, now carried an odd sweetness, like honeyed bread baking in a warzone. Alaric’s thoughts churned with suspicion. No Roman trick could feel this unnatural. He raised his sword, signaling his men to hold, but the rhythm beneath their feet pulsed louder, almost cheerful. His scowl deepened. What sorcery was this?

  The Visigoths gripped their axes, scanning the darkness beyond the gate. Alaric’s mind raced. Had Rome’s gods finally stirred to protect their city? He spat at the thought. He’d crush their idols as easily as their legions. Yet the warmth in the air grew, wrapping around him like an unwanted cloak. His horse reared, whinnying, and he cursed under his breath. His men looked to him, fear creeping into their hardened faces. He wanted to roar at them to charge, to drown this strangeness in blood, but something held him back. Something impossible was near.

  Then it appeared. From the shattered gate’s shadows bounced a creature, massive and absurd, more purple than twilight, with a green belly and a grin that mocked the carnage. Alaric’s breath caught, his sword arm faltering. A beast, bigger than any bear, with sparkling eyes and a waddle that shook the earth. His thoughts shattered. A demon? A hallucination?

  The creature waved a stubby claw, its voice booming like a bard gone mad: “Hello, friends! I’m Barney the Dinosaur! It’s great to see you today!

  The dinosaur, Barney, pranced into the torchlight, undeterred by the chaos. Alaric’s mind reeled. This thing dares interrupt me? He bellowed for his men to attack, but Barney giggled, sidestepping a spear thrust as if dancing. With a flick of his tail, he sent a siege ladder crashing into a pile of rubble, sparkles trailing like stardust. The Visigoths froze, their fury unraveling. Alaric’s rage surged, but doubt gnawed at him.

  Barney bounded toward him, unfazed by the swords raised in his path. “Oh, no more fighting tonight!

  Alaric’s horse bolted, nearly throwing him. He clung on, cursing, as Barney’s eyes met his, twinkling with infuriating kindness.

  “Let’s share a big hug instead!

  Before Alaric could swing, Barney swept him off his horse into a plush, warm embrace, like being smothered in sun-soaked wool. His strength vanished, his hate drowned in a heartbeat’s thud. Alaric’s mind screamed. This can’t be happening! Barney set him down, winking.

  “All better now!

  Alaric staggered to his feet, his pride stinging more than his bruised ribs after Barney’s bone-crushing hug. The purple dinosaur loomed before Rome’s shattered gate, humming a tune that made the air shimmer like a fever dream. Alaric’s Visigoths stood paralyzed, their axes limp, staring at the beast who’d just tossed their king like a sack of grain. Alaric’s thoughts burned with fury and confusion. But his sword felt heavy, his resolve frayed by Barney’s impossible cheer. The city’s screams had quieted, replaced by an eerie buzz as Romans peered from hiding, drawn to the chaos.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Barney clapped his claws, the sound snapping through the night. “Okay, friends, no more smashy-smash!

  The Romans, cowering moments ago, gasped as Barney plucked their stolen treasures—silks, coins, goblets—and piled them in the street.

  “Sharing’s caring!Oh, naughty!

  Barney didn’t stop. He bounded to the Forum, where Alaric’s men had cornered a cluster of senators. With a twirl, he scooped the Romans up, setting them on a rooftop like misplaced kittens.

  “Safe and sound!He’s stealing my war! Barney’s eyes gleamed as he faced the city’s heart, where temples burned and plunder piled high. “Time to fix this big mess!

  Alaric’s boots skidded on the Forum’s marble as he chased Barney’s purple bulk, his chest heaving with a fury that felt hollowed out, brittle. The dinosaur danced through Rome’s burning heart, his every step a mockery of Alaric’s meticulously planned vengeance. The Visigoths, once a relentless tide, now wavered—some clutching sparkling trinkets Barney had tossed them, others staring blankly as if their rage had been siphoned away. Alaric’s thoughts were a snarl. Rome’s temples smoldered, but the screams had faded, replaced by murmurs of awe from Romans creeping out of alleys, drawn to Barney’s absurd light.

  Barney spun in the Forum’s center, where Alaric’s lieutenants had piled loot to fuel their rampage. “Oh, shiny stuff!

  Alaric’s jaw clenched. He lunged, grabbing a spear from a dazed warrior, but Barney twirled, his tail swatting the weapon into a fountain with a splash of glitter. The crowd gasped, then cheered, their fear swallowed by the dinosaur’s relentless joy. Alaric’s resolve cracked.

  The Visigoths dropped their torches as Barney bounded to the Senate House, where Alaric had planned to burn the empire’s heart. With a gleeful hop, Barney smashed through the doors, dragging out scrolls of laws and treaties—Rome’s corrupt legacy.

  “No more mean rules!

  “You need a friend!Love fixes everything!

  Alaric collapsed, staring at a Rome transformed—fires out, loot shared, enemies clasping hands. The sack was dead, his army scattered, his vengeance dust. Barney’s light had won. And Rome exploded into a glitter-dusted, dino-fueled rave, forever free from fear’s chokehold.

  Alaric sat slumped against a shattered column in the Forum, the afterglow of Barney’s hug lingering like a warm haze in his bones. Rome buzzed around him, no longer burning but alive with laughter and shared loot, a city stolen from his grasp by a purple lunatic. His thoughts drifted, soft and aimless. He barely noticed the clatter of hooves as Gunderic, his fiercest war general, stormed into the square, his face twisted with disgust.

  “Alaric!” Gunderic bellowed, leaping from his horse. “You sit there like a coward? We can still take this city!” Alaric blinked, his usual fire absent. He felt too good, too light, to care.

  Gunderic’s voice cracked with fury, but Alaric just shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s done,” he murmured, waving a hand.

  Gunderic spat, turning to the scattered Visigoths. “Then I’ll do it myself!” he roared, grabbing a torch and charging toward a cluster of Romans sharing bread. He swung his sword, toppling a cart, and kicked a man to the ground, snarling. Women screamed, fleeing as Gunderic’s blade gleamed, his laughter cruel. Alaric watched, detached.

  The air sparked, hot and sharp, and a yellow-orange dinosaur burst into view, wild eyes glinting—Riff, though Alaric didn’t know his name. Beside him waddled a red creature, its triangle antenna bobbing, clutching a shiny tuba.

  “Unfortunately for this Bitch, Barney left with all the hugs!” Riff barked, pointing at Gunderic. “Check this out, Po!” He lunged forward and grabbed Gunderic’s torch, snapping it like a twig, and shoved him back.

  “Step one: stop bullies!” he said to Po, who clapped and giggled, then mimicked Riff, yanking Gunderic’s sword away with surprising strength. Alaric’s brow furrowed, but his heart stayed calm, almost amused. Let them handle it.

  Gunderic swung a fist, but Po ducked, giggling harder, and headbutted his gut, sending him sprawling. “Step two: big boom!” Riff cheered, strumming an air guitar that sent a shockwave, cracking Gundric’s bones. Po squealed, stomping Gunderic’s armor flat, leaving him gasping in the dirt. Riff high-fived Po. “Nailed it! We cooked this bitch!” Po tooted its tuba, a blast that knocked Gunderic out cold.

  Alaric leaned back, unbothered, a strange peace settling deeper. Gunderic deserved it, he thought, justice served by a dinosaur and a red blob. They both came and sat down on both sides of Alaric.

  Gently, the yellow-orange dinosaur whispered in Alaric’s ear, “What did we learn?” The creature breathed deeply for several long, moments, his breath husky and wild. “That … fucks with Barney.”

  Riff and Po vanished in a flash, leaving Alaric in total peace and the Romans cheering.

  Rome was forever lit up, swallowed by a sparkly, glitter-soaked fever dream no empire could tame.