#prxestess

Yes, much like Alexander, he was still rather young but with the whole world at his feet. The entire day he'd spent trying to sort everything out, to settle the storm his father had brought down on all their heads. He couldn't thank his newly appointed head of his armies enough, without Emrys there to help keep the peace, and him safe, he knew things wouldn't have gone as well as they did.

It was why he had been able to safely make his way home, albeit rather later in the evening than he wanted. Caesarion had ensured that his family would be safe; all it had taken was a stern look from him and Emrys resting his hand on the pommel of his sword to dissuade any notions to the contrary once he'd informed them of his decree.

Reaching the gates of the villa, the two of them had only barely gotten off their horses when they were swarmed by the rest of the household. His mother in particular nearly crushed him she'd held him so closely, and he'd explained everything as quickly as he could once she'd let him go. Notably, he quickly realized Demetria was missing, which he couldn't pretend didn't sting at least a little. Even Dion had waited with everyone, though Caesarion was under no illusions that was out of concern for him. He'd raised an eyebrow and asked his Aunt where she was, only for her to look to her sisters and Dion, then back at him again before insisting he had to go and see her. Now.

Did Caesarion like all the ridiculously extravagant parties they threw? Of course he did. But he'd never been able to stand ones largely attended by those allied with his father, and quite often truly questioned how on God's Earth his mother stood them all. Though he supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was an undisputed Queen, and outranked the hell out of all of them. That was something mother and son shared, Caesarion too delighted in reminding most everyone that he outranked them all, especially his father's cronies that were 4 times his age.

"Little old you specifically, yes," he said as he settled himself down on the sand, stretching his long legs out, "And that's not suspicious thank you, that happens all the time." It was one of the more frequent arguments he had with his father, whose favourite thing seemed to be chastising his son for fraternizing with the help. He didn't particularly like when his son pointed out that his own wife's two closest friends were also "the help", and he'd usually walk off saying "Complain to your boss if you have a problem", causing the old man to turn a delightful shade of purple. He raised an eyebrow as she started rolling the stockings up her legs, very seriously considering changing his opinion about her colour being red to black instead.

"Actually," he replied as she got up, not turning away at all, whether it was because he didn't want to or couldn't remained to be seen, "Flattery usually gets me just about everywhere." Maybe he shouldn't have said that, she was probably going to throw one of the bottles at him for that or looking but he wasn't taking it back. This was far too much fun, and a tiny part of his brain that he generally shoved down wanted to. It also wanted to see what she was going to do, which evidently was to tease him about his concern.

"Booze almost as old as my father, and I'm fairly sure I win that award almost every month. Unless mater's winning it," he said, getting back up to his feet. "Far be it for me to not act like a gentleman, think of my poor pristine reputation!". Taking the jacket off his arm, he came up behind her and draped it around her shoulders as requested. Tall and broad as he was, and small as she was, it covered quite a great deal of her so from behind all you could really see were the stockings he'd been eyeballing. "There, now I can't be accused of anything untoward."

Even as he said it, he could almost see the look on her face without her turning around, and a thought that very well could get something hurled at him entered his mind. If she wanted to play the game, then he certainly could too. Crouching down under the pretense of picking up his own bottle, which actually was a rather good vintage thank you very much, he used the free hand to dart over and under the coat, unclipping the clip nearest to him before standing up with his bottle and a shit eating grin on his face.

It had been a Friday, with only one class in the morning, and naturally he’d decided on going to see his best friend. Only to find she’d gone off to Verona, and “Probably staying in some awful little hotel too Caesarion, it’s terrible really,” as he’d been told. Which of course made him terribly indignant as there was no way he was letting that happen, so with a few phonecalls on the way he’d both tracked her down and booked the two biggest suites at the nicest hotel that was there.

“Friends don’t let their friends stay in crappy hotels, even if they’re peasants,” he’d teased as he sauntered into her room behind her. Tria had rolled her eyes and taken her small suitcase into the bedroom to unpack, leaving him lounging on one of the couches in the living room. Sighing as though he was being told to make nice with his cousin Atia’s horrible youngest spawn, he picked the phone up to answer it.

“Father, is this a yell at me call, a you pissed off mother call, or did someone die.”

“Yell at me it is. And no I absolutely did not fuck off with no warning, last time I checked I was 18, in school, and an adult who had no appearances or duties till next week.”

If it were possible to roll his eyes any harder he probably would have, holding the phone away from his ear while his father continued a familiar diatribe against him. He only interrupted him when he heard him say “Enough is enough, you can not be chasing after your little peasant friend all the time. People will talk more than they do already. You’re a Prince for Christ’s sake, I’ve got better hopes for you than someone like that.”

Caesarion was gripping the phone so tight then he nearly broke it, and was trying not to hurl it across the room and shatter it. “You do NOT, ever, talk about my best friend like that. Do you hear me? I’ve told you that before and I won’t say it again........no I don’t particularly care that you’re the damn King right now.....no you listen. Demetria is my closest friend, and one of the only people on this earth that doesn’t give two shits about the fact that I’m a Prince. No one’s allowed to talk about her like that, and especially not you just because you’re pissed off that people genuinely like me not the Prince of Piedmont, unlike you. I’m not going anywhere until Sunday and will be ignoring you from here on out. Good bye malaka.” 

As was her nature, her mother had dramatically taken to her bed on 'doctors orders' despite not having a scrape on her while Tria had bristled at being fussed over for a few cuts and bruises and a slightly sore arm. She'd tolerated the fuss only because of the concern etched on her dad's face then broken off to escape the dramatics of it all and hidden in the library with Binx.

Emrys swift arrival should have alerted her to the trouble brewing above her but she was too busy reading about Emma and Knightley to put two and two together until the hurried approach of what sounded like an army of soldiers for all the noise it made and shouting voices sliced the quiet.

Lowering her book in time for the doors to be thrown open, she narrowed her gaze at her visitor. Never mind it was the King! "What the hell are you doing here?!" Someone gasped. Bloody Catholics. She wanted to scream but instead narrowed her eyes at Emrys sitting across the table from her, hands held in surrender. "Did you tell him? I'm FINE!"

@prxestess

If anyone ever joked about him constantly being busy, Caesarion would usually shoot back that there was no rest for the wicked and go back to what he was doing. Kingdoms didn’t run themselves, although thanks to the tireless work of himself and his mother his father had certainly thought so. No, he did his work himself and when he heard a rather insistent banging on the door of his study he was more than a little bit annoyed. He had been in the middle of a letter to congratulate the Prince of Orange on the recent birth of his son, and muttered some highly un-gentlemanly words when the banging didn’t stop upon the barked response of “I’m busy”. Scowling he called out that this had better be important because if it wasn’t they’d be sorry, he pushed the chair back and waited for whoever it was to come in. 

He vaguely recognized the man as one of the people under Emrys, and he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, telling him to spit it out before he defenestrated him. The poor man stammered out what he’d been ordered by Emrys, and as his did Caesarion felt as though his blood had suddenly run cold and he distinctly felt like he was going to throw up. The poor man managed to stammer out something about the Library before he gathered himself and shot out of the chair like a bullet from a gun. “And no one thought to fucking inform me of this? No one thought it might just be a God damned good idea to let me know? Useless incompetent idiots the whole damn lot of you. Now get the Hell out of my way,” he shouted, shoving the chair aside and taking off as fast as he could possibly run, leaving the shaking man in his wake.

The King running full tilt through the halls as though he were on fire and shouting was not a common occurrence, so Caesarion doing so attracted quite a crowd of bewildered people. He paid them absolutely no mind though, the words carriage accident, turned over...injuries...they just kept circling in his head and he felt frantic with the fear of what could have happened clawing at his throat. What if something serious had happened to her, what if....no. No, he wasn’t even going to put that thought into existence. He’d seen what a violent end to someone’s life looked like, and the possibility of that and her was not something he was willing to contemplate. 

Yanking the doors open once he got there, he felt at least a small amount of relief because she appeared to be sitting up and okay, but that didn’t mean he didn’t immediately notice the cuts and bruises which did nothing whatsoever to assuage his temper. “I’m the King! And what the hell do you think I’m doing here?” he shouted in Greek, to what was surely the great annoyance of the people milling in the hall, “Of course he had me told, why the fuck would he not?”

Turning to Emrys who already seemed to have anticipated this, he gestured to the door and said, “Close those and clear the rabble. Now”. He nodded in agreement, glancing back at Tria briefly first before doing as asked, even Binx wisely deciding to skitter off at his heels. The heavy doors shut and Caesarion stood there breathing heavily for a moment, almost having forgotten he’d basically just sprinted across half the palace in an effort to get there quicker. 

His mother had taken him aside that morning to ask him if he was absolutely sure about doing this, reminding him that while he’d eventually be ok, it wouldn’t be pleasant for a few days and he nodded his head. He was willing to do anything at that point to both get rid of his father and keep he and his mother safe from suspicion. Breakfast had gone on as usual, until it happened. His father took a drink from his coffee, and Caesarion did likewise right after. Within a few minutes his father had fallen from the chair to his mother’s shriek of “Julius!”, and before he could get up from his own chair he started to shake himself and violently bring up the breakfast he’d already eaten.

Most of what happened after that was a blur, he remembered a lot more yelling and shrieking, someone had carried both of them to their respective rooms and his mother had spent most of the day going back and forth between the two of them. In late afternoon, while he was still feeling utterly wretched, his mother had come to give him an update. He’d at least put a robe on for decency’s sake and managed to half sit up in bed. She’d filled him in on all that was going on, people were panicking, no one knew what was really going on, and the physicians seemed to doubt his father would last more than a day or so. With a dark look on her face she’d told him how his aunts had practically flown in, apparently the eldest had sent the quickest messenger possible to her own eldest and Caesarion almost scowled at that. Cleopatra spent a few more minutes with him before leaving him to rest, by some miracle the physicians had declared whatever had poisoned them hadn’t gotten him as bad as his father, and thankfully his mother drank tea not coffee. He was going to need rest, but that hopefully he’d be fine soon.