veni. vidi. vici.

Relief washed over Tria when the hearing was over. The weight shed from her shoulders almost instantly, leaving her feeling the best she had all day. With dreams of food and then crashing onto her bed to sleep for the next year, she thanked the congregated Senators before leaving the chamber.

That excitement and relief died when she was grabbed and she knew exactly who by. He was making an awful habit of manhandling her and getting away with it. But not this time.

“Get off me!” She spat, yanking her arm from his grip. As he stared down at her, flush with anger and spitting out his words she almost wanted to laugh. But she didn’t. She peered around one of the marble pillars to make sure there wasn’t an audience before she let him have it.

“I told the truth! Not my truth, but the truth. You wouldn’t know what that is if it slapped you in the face.” She tilted her head up, trying to make herself look taller somehow even though he had a good foot and a half over her. She was growing hot with repressed anger and that laugh she’d fought fell at that precise moment. “What did you think was going to happen, huh? Did you think I’d air my dirty laundry in the Senate? You don’t know me at all.”

Though she had behaved impeccably throughout her ten ( nearly eleven hours at this point ) hours in the Senate, seeing the Senator for the Parioli step to the mic nearly broke that track record. It took all her resolve not to roll her eyes and mutter dark things under her breath; she could hardly believe he hadn’t recused himself based on the fact he got to office through Julius in actions now under investigation .

Her gaze flicked up to the public area as his questions focused on Cleopatra. She could almost feel his smugness radiating down to her but if he thought he’d laid a trap for her, he was sorely mistaken.

“Senator, she’s the mother of my best friend and my mother’s best friend. That is all there is to it. Nothing more, nothing less.” His second question took a moment to deliberate but she came up with an answer that satisfied her whilst giving nothing away. “I believe that there should be a discussion, yes. But I also believe that the people have had quite enough of the dramatics of the last few months and are ready for peace. The conversation could easily be had in private. But, yes, I think it should be had. It’s only respectful.”

As she sat there, Tria could see it play out before her eyes. She’d never lower herself to ask her, she’d use Caesarion as an intermediary. 

It happened in such a blur that Julius hardly knew what was happening. Her answers had proven so satisfactory that was it. No further inquiry needed. No other testimony. The Senate were seemingly satisfied and it would stand untouched unless more came to light that required a review.

Not for the first time, that girl had played him. He was used to playing others but he’d been well and truly check mate’d and the look up at him before hand told him she knew exactly what she’d done before she’d even done it.

For Demetria it had been perhaps the longest day of her entire seventeen - nearly eighteen - years on the planet. Usually never one to bite her tongue, she had been forced to do so on this occasion despite swearing an oath to truth and transparency. Her truth, her candid truth, would tear the palace down so she formed her answers with care and precision. Never lying, but never conceding to the well of anger that resided within her either.

As session was recalled, she left the office that had been provided for her comfort and privacy and made her way back into the chamber. The clicking of her heels on the marble floor was an oddly comforting sound, she found - at least on this occasion. She took her seat with a respectful nod to the Chair and awaited for the questions to begin again.

She certainly didn’t have long to wait. She reached for her iced water and took a sip as she listened to the questions put to her. Tria could feel eyes ( not just that of Julius but perhaps the whole nation ) bore into her but she tried to focus on the questions at hand and her answers.

“Thank you Senator.” She began, smiling warmly towards the older man at the bench. “I believe that every King has had the choice for who he wishes to represent his reign to his female subjects and while that is usually a wife or even a mistress at times, the choice has been his. Our current King has neither so had to make an alternative choice and I believe, though controversial a choice, the power is still his to bestow it on who he chooses.“

Wrapping her painted fingers around her cup, she digested the other questions and then one by one answered. “It was not discussed with me though I knew through experience what would happen. I will not play an active role in the current reign. It is not my desire to. I also think it would be quite pointless to go through all of this just for myself to take on the role anyway. He made his choice and as I said before, he has that right regardless what we may feel.”

An intake of breath and then the last answer. “Every King needs an heir, Senator.”

Her answers did nothing to dissuade his anxiety. He could tell the congregated were impressed with the grace which she carried herself with. Her answers were careful and gave nothing away but were pleasing, he knew, He couldn’t help but wonder at her loyalty. 

His anxiety was briefly eased by the next Senator up to the questioning bat. He was a loyalist to him and Julius was sure he’d provide a ‘gotcha question. He was not disappointed.

“What a pair you make.” Tria shot back; gesturing for him to step out. “You try to force me on the throne and your wife will step on anyone in her path to keep it. And my mother wonders why I’ve had a rather republican attitude of late.” 

She nodded at a passing maid, noting her curious expression. Looking back into the room, she tutted impatiently. “Come on.. it’s not like it’s normal to see you in her rooms. Word’ll get around in minutes and I don’t fancy dealing with her or your son right now.”

Ah. There it was. Tria inhaled as he explained the reason for the requested visit. She stayed rooted to the spot, facing her future head on. In that one sentence, Julius had encapsulated what the next few weeks would be; the expectation of some romantic rise, a King who couldn’t do without her, a Hallmark-esque romantic fantasy popped by the reality that the only thing changing was the King and the amount of power his mother exercised.

It confirmed to her that the only thing Tria really wanted was to get as far from mother and son as she could. She didn’t want power, never had; but neither did she want the pitying looks and sympathetic pats of condolence. 

“I can’t go in there without the Queen’s permission.” She stated, keeping her chin up and refusing to concede to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. She even managed a smile though it was faintly wobbly. “I think we both know that this room isn’t packed up because she’s not leaving and we both know too that those items are to go back in her possession..”

The end of an era was always difficult and although she’d had many problems with him of late, the loss of his reign entirely had been a hard blow for Demetria. She hadn’t, in all candidness, ever given much thought to what came after Julius on the throne and now she was faced with it.. she wanted to go back.

An invitation to the private residences had not come entirely unexpected; he, as well as many of his court left behind, had developed some romantic fairytale in their head of what was to come but they were sure to be disappointed. 

The click of her heels died as she stepped out onto the carpeted hall; she stopped some distance apart, interlocking her fingers and resting them against her abdomen. 

“Your Majesty.” she greeted simply; “Things?” She inquired; tilting her head curiously.

The grasp on her shoulders were undoubtedly painful but Tria resisted the urge to show such and give him that sort of satisfaction. Her head lolled back and forth as she was shaken, dangerously close to hitting the wall not once but twice but the Gods or whoever were with her and with the narrowest margins, she missed out on a bumped head at the hands of the King.

Alarmingly, she wasn’t even shocked he’d devolved so far since the attempt that he thought nothing of such violence. His attention craving ego was being well and truly starved with Caesarion in charge and it was almost pathetic to watch him grasp on to the tatters of his reign and desperately scheming his revenge.

“What about MY loyalty?” She roared back, violently shrugging his hands away from her once he’d stopped shaking her; taking careful steps out of his reach to protect herself; she felt a little dizzy too and grasped on the wall to steady herself. “I can’t be bought like them in there! I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you a thousand times - I DO NOT WANT TO BE QUEEN. I will NOT take his throne from him no matter what backhanded deals you make.”

Tipping her chin, defiance in her gaze, Tria added tartly. “I know you’re Caesar and so the idea of loyalty to a person is completely alien as your marriage shows, but I am not of your ilk; I won’t betray Caesarion for you or anyone. I think I’ve made that quite clear and I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

Tria could only shake her head at him as he spoke once outside with her. Did he ever listen? ( Did anyone ever actually listen to her? ) Now fully aware that words were not enough, she crossed the landing to the staff intercom. Pressing 1 for the downstairs office, she waited to be answered. Once she was, she spoke, looking directly at Julius. “It’s Demetria, can you inform Caesarion the cabinet are convened in the cabinet room and are waiting for him? Thank you.”

Tria had resisted the invitation for a meeting for weeks but the battle was lost when his chief of staff all but marched her upstairs to the cabinet room. From the moment she stepped in, panic rose up from her core; far from having listened to her many protests, he was steam rolling ahead with his unconstitutional and utterly illegal plans. 

She jumped as the door was closed behind her, sealing her inside with the beaming faces and the calculating monarch she’d done her best to avoid. 

Plastering on as sincere a smile as she could manage, Tria backed up to the door, hand encircling the handle so tight her knuckles blanched pure white. “Can I speak to you outside, please?” She pulled on the handle, relieved it hadn’t been locked with the key and stepped out into the hall with a smile over her shoulder to the cabinet. “Do excuse us - one moment.”

With the confusion of a man who could not comprehend the idea of someone shying away from power, Julius followed, not sharing said confusion on his face which remained unreadable. 

“Still? How could I still blame her if I never did in the first place?” Demetria was there under sufferance and she wasn’t about to let him forget that. Her arms were tightly folded acrossed the width of her torso, her countenance settled into a look of pure annoyance at his questioning. “My mother is free to see Cleopatra if she wishes, I have never tried to stop her. She is merely a worrier, concerned for my feelings, like any parent. But she has my blessings and I send Cleopatra the same.”

Although she felt perfectly justified in her desire to cry, Demetria found she didn’t have the strength to do so after the last few hours. She didn’t know how she’d explain the mess to Caesarion or her aunt - it looked as if 10 legions had marched through the place leaving only destruction in their wake!

After drying and changing, she attempted to help right Caesarion’s desk but her mother wouldn’t hear of it in her condition and instead did it herself. Taking great care not to read their contents ( anything he wished to share with her, she knew he would ) Tria helped pick up the scattered scrolls instead, making two piles on the desk - ones that had escaped harm and those that were torn or stained either from mud, wine or blood from the fight. With her room as back to normal as she could get it, Tria made for the door but heard Olympos’ comment. Smiling wryly, she shook her head at him as he entered. He always knew how to amuse her. “Now, now. Play nicely Olympos.”

Ignoring both of said Romans as she left her room, she crossed the villa to the room her aunt occupied. This, would take much more work. First, the air burned her nose and throat with the contents of the smashed perfume bottles littering the floor, giving the room an aroma she suspected wouldn’t be lost in a brothel. Then there was  the destruction of the bed, the pillows, the clothes.. if her aunt hadn’t been through enough with the will ordeal, she might’ve left it in the mess it was so she could see what they had done but she didn’t deserve that.

“Where do we begin?” She asked of her mother, helplessly.

Caesar followed after Charmian and her daughter, following them like a new shadow. From the door way he watched the young girl who had played in his garden and now blossomed into this young woman who had stolen the heart of his son. She was unquestionably beautiful with an alluring grace; he had seen that earlier but hadn't felt the full force of it like he did now.

Olympos had warned him of the loss of his second child with Cleopatra, a bitter blow like the loss of his Julia and grandchild shortly after. But here was the wife of his son, swollen with child; the Gods had taken lives only to bless them with anew. 

The question posed to her Tria did not consider worth dignifying with a response. To be brought back as he had been, he had to have been blessed by powerful Gods she did not wish to disrespect by releasing all the anger that boiled within her at his actions and that of Antony, over in the corner, shouting obscenities as he was patched up by Emrys.

One look around the villa at all the destruction was enough to make her feel so very tired. Nothing that had been of any value ( sentimental or otherwise ) had survived the tussle between the two men. Fruitlessly, she had sat on the floor attempting to put her sistrum together again, after collecting up most of the pottery, but with no luck. Finding herself on the verge of either tears of screams, she pushed the pieces mournfully away and stood. 

“I’m going to change.” She announced, glancing down at her wet dress with a tired gaze. Her mother and aunt looked at her, wondering perhaps what she’d do or say; wondering perhaps what they would do or say when their mistress returned and found the mess her two lovers had caused.

It was meeting her mother’s gaze that pushed the balance towards tears. After being slapped, threatened and nearly murdered by Calpurnia this was her final straw. On the verge of tears, her gaze obscured by the moisture and her voice touched by them too, she added quietly. “And then I’m going home.”

Caesar watched her go, unmistakably feeling the judgmental gaze of Iras upon him.

"Come now, Iras. Speak freely." He stood to full height. "You have something on your mind."

She cleared her throat and Caesar knew this did not look too promising for him.

"That is not Antyllus's wife, Caesar."

Caesar did not speak, allowing her to continue.

"That is Demetria."

The name registered with him and he tried to think of where from. It occurred to him, after a prolonged silence, that the name was familiar because it was the name of the young child his son had played with in Rome all those many years ago.

"Then she is-"

Iras nodded.

"And the child i-"

Another nod.

The weight of realization fell heavily on his shoulders and were certainly not helped by Olympos's wry comment as he followed the Empress.