#divifilius

The host of the party was amidst conversation with the men at his table, when a sudden onslaught of whispers and mumblings rose up from the room. The conversation became forgotten amount the men as their attention went to the center of the commotion; the entrance of a very late party guest.

They would all later tell him that the woman had entered the room alongside her husband Tiberius Claudius Nero and a few choice people in their innermost circle. But whoever she had entered alongside of would prove difficult for Augustus to recall; he had only caught the gleam of her violently violet gown as she entered.

From the stop of the stairs, Augustus could see that her heavily-lidded eyes were scanning the room. They appeared to scan the main room with an air of utter disinterest. Something that closely mirrored his own sentiments that night.

He watched carefully as she descended from from the top of the stairs into the crowd of the main room with carefully placed steps; elegant and fluid.

"Who is that?" Augustus inquired over his shoulder to the group of men sitting at his table.

"That's Livia Drusilla, the wife of Nero." 

This response that came from Agrippa earned a very defined frown from Augustus. He recalled the past three years and the acts of treachery that Nero had publicly conducted, in spite of having once been in service to Augustus' father, The Great Julius Caesar.

"That is Nero's wife?" The statement was more one of disbelief than a true question. Of course he had heard that Nero was married. But, how could a spineless creature like Nero manage to lure such a young and attractive wife?

"Yeah, they have a kid already. Heard he wants another one, or something. I mean, wouldn't you?" Continued Agrippa with his tone colorfully influenced by the amount of liquor he'd already consumed that evening.

Augustus stood from the table. Some of the sundry dinner utensils were left shaking with the force of him pushing away from the table. Without another word to those he previously sat with, Augustus took across the room toward the fleeting vision of purple.

He proceeded to cut across the orderly arrangement of tables and various food set ups in search of the violet dress he'd recently lost sight of. Some of the guests were muttering as he walked by: Where was he going? Surely this would make its way back to Scribonia but that was the least of Augustus' current concerns.

Before long, his slowly calculated strides brought him to one of the bars that had been set up for the evening's function. At this particular bar sat the object of his attention: this Livia Drusilla, wife of Nero.

She was alone, occupying one of the outer most stools of the bar. With her slender arm outstretched behind her for support, Livia sat facing the room. On the surface of the bar was what appeared to be a freshly ordered flute of champagne, only a hint of her lipstick staining the glass of golden bubbles. She had her narrowed, inky stare keenly leveled ahead as she observed the other guests at tables.

It was only half his expectation to find her alone at the bar, so once he had, Augustus was momentarily unsure how to proceed. If Nero had been present he was almost more prepared for that.

Did he introduce himself? Surely he did not require introduction in spite of the fact that they had never been formally introduced. He was Caesar after all.

After a moment pass, Livia's darkly lined eyes shifted from their original subjects. They caught Augustus' his own pale stare, finding that it was intently focused on her.

"Good evening, Caesar." The greeting was uttered remarkably plainly. No surprise. Almost as if she had been expecting to find him standing there.

Augustus took a step closer into the vacant space next to Livia. Rather than return the greeting, he responded with: "Where is your husband?"

She did not miss a beat. "He is saying hello to a few old friends."

Nero, a man with many old friends courtesy of hastily made alliances.

Wasting not a moment longer on a reply that likely interested neither of them, Augustus' hand came to rest on the bar behind them. He leaned fully into the space surrounding Nero's wife in one quick motion. Perhaps it had been pure impulse, or the simple fact that he did not require permission or invitation to do so.

There had been a momentary gleam of surprise in Livia's gaze as her eyes scanned his for some sort of explanation. "What are you doing?" her inquiry came in a tone that betrayed no emotion.

"How would you like to be married to me, Livia?" Augustus' question was muttered close to the full cupid-bow pout of her lips. They were covered in a quick, and undoubtedly expensive, slash of light pink lipstick.

Livia turned her face away from him before his lips came inappropriately close.

"Excuse me?"

"Married, to me. It appears to me that it would suit you far better than being the wife of Nero."

Augustus felt Livia lower herself from the bar-stool. She stood upright in an attempt to create space between them. Stepping forward anew, Augustus covered whatever short distance had formed.

"I am happily married." Livia stated in a firm, flinty tone that he would later learn to identify as her signature tone.

As he moved closer to Livia, Augustus found once again that she turned her face away. She said nothing by way of response. 

"You may wish to do away with the charade. It affords you nothing here." Augustus had brought his lips and suggestion closely to Livia's ear. He caught a scent of her; subtle and muted, not overbearingly feminine but indisputably so. "Caesar can arrange for such things to be done away with, if you require assistance."

This time there was no reply that followed soon after. When it did not, Augustus continued.

"Being the wife of Caesar can offer you far more than being the wife of Nero."

Without any need for additional comments Augustus pulled himself from Livia's company. Turning and making his way back to his table he left her alone with the possibility of what he proposed.

He trusted she would make the right decision in a timely manner.

---

The evening drew to a close uneventfully once Augustus had rejoined his table. Scribonia had been kept busy by all of her distinguished guests. Agrippa had at long last stopped trying to pull out of him what had taken place when he left the table. There had been the occasional greetings Augustus had to see to throughout the evening, but they came and went without incident.

"--Make an offer." one of the men was saying when Augustus returned his attention to the conversation.

This earned a few murmurs of approval.

Some additional comments began to rise up from the men at the table, yet they were hushed down before taking off in earnest. Turning to the source of his guests' attention, Augustus' eyes fell upon the commanding shade of violet that adorned Livia's slender figure. She was approaching their table alone.

By the times he had made her way to the table of honor it was clear that the eyes of every guest was upon them. Livia came to Augustus' side, lowering herself to his seated position.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Cesar." Her tone was unlike what it had been previously. It was husky, nearly beckoning.

Turning to face her, Augustus expected she would create some distance between them. She did not.

Augustus angled himself closer to Nero's wife, testing just how far she would take this. Coming up to his table. The clear show of intimacy.

"Does this mean you have changed your mind?" The inquiry was made in a tone only audible between the two. The words left Augustus and brushed upon Livia's lips.

Briefly, he noted that her lips drew closer to him. And just as the breath between them had grown thick, she eased herself away from Augustus with what appeared to be a dark smirk.

"No, Caesar."

No.

Augustus blinked, a response failing him.

"We thank you for your hospitality." Her remark was said in a much louder tone this time and her choice of words was not lost on him.

We.

Her lips did come to meet him then at long last. They planted themselves upon his cheek in a large display.

Awaiting no response from the host, Livia took her leave of him and his table. Behind her, a room full of guests and their host watched her seemingly part through the crowd with a slight sway of her hips.

Augustus watched until the violet, backless dress disappeared before he heard the first to break the silence at their table. 

It was Agrippa.