#caesar 3.0

Caesarion was completely aware his actions were foolhardy, reckless, moronic, far too risky or whatever other things he could almost hear Tria hurling at him. Though really he'd probably cry with relief just to hear her say almost anything if he were honest. He should have headed to Rome first, should have gotten Selene and Helios out to safety. The gods only knew Helios was already on borrowed time, Octavian has a lot of things but no fool. He wouldn't let a son of Antony's live to adulthood, and at almost 13 now his little brother was on the cusp. His sister too was in danger of being married off to some vile friend of the pretenders, and he knew they had to get out however reckless that plan also was.

He'd told them to stop though, persuaded them to halt a while in Alexandria. They'd arrived that very evening, just as the darkness was beginning to descend on the city. That served his purpose though, the less anyone saw of him the better. Caesarion had briefly thought to run straight to the temple to try and find Tria, though he wasn't sure he could let her go again if he did. But the later it got the worse of an idea that was, he could do that in the morning. Thankfully she was safe, no one knowing who she was, and now he was in the same city again.

Instead he went to the mausoleum....and it had been hard. Not getting to it, that was made much easier by the night and some well practised sneaking with an all encompassing cloak to hide his highly recognizable face. Going in there was one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his barely 20 years of life. It wasn't them in there, not truly. No marble box could contain the force his family had been, and he'd fallen down to his knees when he'd touched his mother's and wept. He'd know he couldn't stay long though, and he pressed his hand to the cold marble and once again swore again an oath of vengeance.

The doors shut behind him and he placed a hand on them in farewell again, turning to leave only to hiss a muffled curse when he did. There was someone there. A small child by the looks of it, but where there was a child that small the parents would follow. But who on Earth would be here at this time of night, in his mother's resting place? He'd hoped to meld back into the shadows and sneak away unseen, but the childish shout of "Hey! What are you doing you grave robber" stopped him.

He had a son, and one that even so small and new looked so like him it was startling. Caesarion had never in his life gone through so many emotions in so short a period of time, from delight that he was on his way, to concern at how long it was taking, then elation, gratitude and pride that he’d finally arrived. Almost immediately that had been followed by sheer and utter terror, such as he’d never felt before and never, ever wanted to again. There’d been so much blood, and for a brief and horrifying moment he truly thought they were going to lose her. No amount of sons was worth that to him, but thanks be to the Gods Tria had come back to them all.

Their collection of parents had eventually been allowed in then, sans Antony of course, and they’d all cooed over the newest arrival and agreed he was all his father. His mother had smiled at Demetria and told her she knew just what that was like, causing Charmian and Iras to laugh in remembrance. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Dion’s face when they told him the name they’d picked, he’d never be Tria’s father’s favourite person but it was something. 

Hovering over her and clinging to her as he was, he practically had to be forcibly dragged off by his own mother to let her get cleaned up and situated again. It had been nearly an entire day since the labour started, and he’d been forced to get himself somewhat cleaned up as well. Being exiled from his own rooms was hardly pleasant, and he paced up and down and listened to the faint roar of crowds outside as he waited. 

Finally, he’d been allowed back in, and nearly bowled Olympos over who’d rolled his eyes as the others followed him out. Caesarion hurried over to the bed, where a very alive and well looking Tria was ensconced, surrounded by pillows and holding the most precious little bundle in the world.

“Mater once told me the first time my father ever saw me he got down on his knees to look at me, stared for a very long time, and said “It is my very self”. I think I finally understand that now, he really is me” he said quietly, sitting next to her on the bed and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He watched little Dion for a minute, before holding a finger out to the baby which he grabbed on to immediately, causing him to laugh. “Look at you knowing exactly what you want, I’d expect no less from the future ruler of the world, and the first time a man in this family’s had a son for his firstborn in ages.” He turned then to kiss the top of Tria’s head, tightening the arm that didn’t have a finger being gripped like a vice.