âMy king is putting aside his wife. They say he already has another in mind.â England said it like a man trying not to sound frustrated. But it was clear to Portugal that he was. He had known the man long enough to see the feelings in his face.
Only after a dinner and light conversation had it finally come spilling out, as England got comfortable enough.
He asked, watching closely for a reaction, âHow many is this now?â
England let out a very long sigh and said, âThis is the fifth. That is not the worst part.â
He swallowed hard, like the most unpleasant truth was just on the tip of his tongue. Portugal prodded him gently, âWhat is worse?â
England ran one of his hands over his face, before finally saying, âI have met the lady, and she is only seventeen. She is practically a child.â
He looked pale and ill, like the concept of taking a teenager to bed was sickening him. Portugal said, offhandedly, âHe sounds like my father.â
The blonde raised one eyebrow and said, âWhat do you mean?â Portugal picked up one of mostly empty wine glasses from the table and drained the dregs from it.
Then he said, âHave you ever questioned how he had so many sons? Or what happened to the women he bedded.â
He heard the sharp sting of bitterness in his voice. It was always there when he discussed Rome. But, it was safe to show it with England. The blonde shook his head, âMy mother said he was an immoral tyrant, and I never thought more about it.â
Portugal put down the glass, which was now empty. He chewed on his own lower lip for a moment before he said, âWould you like to hear the story?â
England seemed to hesitate for a moment, like he was questioning whether it would be asking Portugal to recount pain. He knew him well enough to know that Rome was a sore subject. But, he felt like turning down the offer would be rude.
But, he finally nodded. Portugal shifted in his chair and said, âThis is what I know from what Iâve found of him:
When he was young, they say he loved Ancient Greece. I have found some of the poems that he wrote for her, and he claimed it was the truest love he ever felt.
I canât know if that was ever true.
Perhaps he did love her when they were married, or perhaps he did it for power. His life seemed to be a quest to always have more.
Greece gave him an heir. From what I can tell, Byzantium was the first son he ever had. He was elated to have a son, and celebrated it for the world to know. But, celebrations were always followed with restlessness for him. Once he got what he wanted, then he had to find something new to conquer.
No one knows when he first met my mother, Carthage. Â But I think he began to stray when he had a legitimate successor. He never wrote her beautiful poems, or gave her lavish gifts. I remember he would visit for a few days at a time, but keep to himself. He arrived and left without ceremony, rarely even asking to see me. There was no celebration for me or for Tony, or ever any acknowledgment that we existed.
After Tony was born, they started fighting. I remembered hearing the yelling through the walls. Though I never heard what they said clearly, I imagine she wanted him to acknowledge Tony and me as more than just bastards. It is what any mother would do for her sons.
She deserved better than him. She ruled the sea, and rode elephants to battle. Her intelligence and skill was unmatched, even if he thought he was the kind of the world.
She was too strong-willed for him, and he knew it. If he had married her, he would have been unable to control her. He couldnât do that when she was just a mistress.
I know that Ancient Greece left him, and I imagine that she found out that he had two other children. That must not have rested well with her, and worried her about the position of her son. His absences would be enough for anyone to hope for better.
I do not know when Heracles was born, or who his father was. If he Is Romeâs son, then he wasnât cursed with our fatherâs looks, or his temper.
The fighting between my mother and Rome just got worse, and my mother sent us away before it came to war between them. I remember her hugging us both before putting us on a boat set on a course for Iberia. It was the last time I saw her.Â
I know in my heart that she protected us from him. He was a pitiless man who killed her for insisting that Tony and I were given what we should have been. He did not want his heir to have to compete.
Now we will always be known as Romeâs bastards, and I know Tony resents that. I made peace with it years ago.
What could you expect from a man who murdered his twin brother? What could we really believe he would give us?â
He paused for a moment and then looked at England and said, âThis is where it becomes relevant.â
England thought he heard pain when Portugal recounted Carthageâs fate. But, he dared not ask his friend. It was too much to push for more vulnerability, when what he was being given was already a gift.
Portugal continued, âWith only one legitimate son, and an expanding empire, he decided that he needed more. Perhaps he began to understand that he was mortal, even with our long lives. No empire lasts forever.
He found a new bride named Veneti. I have heard that she was seventeen when he married her. I supposed he tired of strong women, and chose one he could dominate.
She bore him twins, who he swore were the spitting image of him and Remus. He thought it showed that the gods favored him, even when his empire started to wane. Thatâs when he chose Feliciano as his heir, even over Byzantium. He saw himself reborn and thought it was fate.
Ironic, donât you think? He disinherited his eldest in secret, and still expected to be welcomed in Constantinople when he fled from Germania. He chose to vanish rather than face his end.
He thought as his sons we all needed to prove ourselves to him when he never proved himself capable of being a father. I would rather be my motherâs son than any child of his.â
Then he drew in a breath and stopped talking. England felt like this was the end of the story, and he would not pry.
He tried to change the subject back to the present, to prevent Portugal from delving too deeply into his feelings about his father. He said, âWhat do you think this all means for Henry? Romeâs empire fell to pieces after he died. I hope that will not happen to me.â
Portugal leaned forward onto his elbows and said, âIt means that his most competent heir will be the last one he expects, and it may very well be the one that he refuses to acknowledge.â
ââââââââ-
APH Roman empire, Ancient Greece, Carthage, and Adriatic Veneti aesthetic
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