Pharaoh of Egypt and King of Kings @littlecaesar - Tumblr Blog

There was an established dynamic that, up until this very moment, had suited Tria quite nicely thank you. She was the panicked one who spoke a thousand miles a minute while he, in turn, looked amused and let her wear herself out before reassuring her everything would be fine. It was well established: it was the way they were.... but there's nothing like an assassination to flip everything on its head.

Understandably, Tria found herself the put together one. The calm one. The one tasked with calming *him*. It was new territory and she was desperately hoping she's be good enough to at least not make matters worse. "Of course I did. It's you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." She reaffirmed, the words fading into a squeak as her breath wheezed out of her lungs as he clutched her tightly to him. She wouldn't change it though. Some part of her had needed the confirmation he was truly okay and now she had it: he was real, solid and pressed against her. That panicked part of her could finally be calmed.

As the words broke free, Tria held onto him, arms looped around his middle and simply listened. She knew the story, everyone did by now. But it seemed to her he needed to get it out, to voice what he had experienced and if, as he clearly had, he'd chosen her to be his sounding board she would listen dutifully.

It troubled her to hear her father couldn't let him linger and yet she knew why. "I think he wanted to save you from them forcing you to be declared King on the spot. The King is dead, long live the King has always been tacky but in your circumstances it'd just have been cruel and they wouldn't have cared either. The state carries on etcetera, etcetera." She wanted to add that the plotters probably had an... interesting fate for his mother planned also - that his arrival alone thwarted; but stopped herself. One parental murder at a time. She forced herself to smile, to squeeze her looped arms around him. "But you're here now. You're okay. They aren't going to get you. Not them outside or the senate or anyone else. You're safe and whatever else your problems with your father, that's what he'd want right now."

Tria could only nod as he spoke of not being able to keep anything down. She had guessed as much but had to try. "If being King doesn't pan out, an Armani modelling contract is sure to be in the post. Only you could pull off this look." Tria half heartedly teased, hoping to bring some normality to this less than normal time. The pulsing, demanding noise of the crowd was like a punishing drill to her skull that was getting harder to ignore. She wanted desperately to tear a window open and tell them all to fuck off. That she hated each and every one of them and they didn't deserve to speak her best friend's name let alone have the audacity to demand a performance after what they knew he'd been through: but alas, threatening his subjects was not possible. No matter how much they deserved it.

Bereft of his closeness as he sat on the floor, Tria couldn't help the sadness that unfurled within her. He looked so small for someone who'd always loomed large over her life and so very young now too. Too young to be King. Not that anyone but her seemed to care about that fact. That demanding collective still pierced the walls; selfish and unthinking as they continued demanding he perform for them even in the moments he had nothing left to give.

"Subjecting ME?!" She exclaimed, her neck sore from the double take the words caused. "You go through what you have today and you don't want to subject ME?!" With fond incredulity, Tria shook her head and joined him on the floor - well, in his lap. Taking his beautiful face between her palms, she met his gaze as she spoke. "We aren't going anywhere until you're ready. And yes I said we. You aren't going to face any of this alone. Not them out there, not the declaration of ascension, nothing." Not able to allow things to get too serious, she added wryly. "It really would be my pleasure to tell them to fuck off for you."

Knowing he'd not let her though, she released his face and took his hand in her own, threading their fingers; she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ignore them outside. Take your time. Everyone can wait."

littlecaesar

Thinking of the day later on, Caesarion would reflect that a lot of it had just...escaped his mind. Maybe it was a self preservation instinct of burying it so deep down he didn't have to think about it. Didn't have to think about the horrid noise when the bullets met his father's chest, the screams from everyone, the fact that his father had tried to say something he could only half remember, or the way one of the few men he knew that was taller than him had shielded him from a potential next bullet. He would however, remember Tria and what she said and did.

"You...you....you really shouldn't say that," he muttered, more to himself than anything else, "I'm kind of a selfish ass who'll end up making you stay with me in the gilded fishbowl I know you don't like. But God am I ever glad you're here."

He nodded his head, agreeing with what she'd said about her father. "He wasn't even dead yet. He...he was still moving, or at least I think he was. They were trying to wrangle Brutus, and I tried to get there and at least do something but I couldn't. For all the good it would have done." His father would have been dead regardless, he'd still be King, and he knew precisely what else would have happened too. He went quiet for a second, before deciding to say something he hadn't even mentioned to Emrys. "He was, or I think he was, trying to say something to me when Brutus came up. I don't know what but....well I'll never know anyway so I guess it doesn't matter."

Caesarion could always depend on her for a crack of some sort about his wardrobe, and he very near laughed at this one. "They've asked, believe me. But I've got a job lined up for the next 80 years or so, guess I'll have to turn them down." It was an oddly sobering thought; as of that evening he was now going to be King for likely a very, very long time. Maybe even record breakingly long, which was daunting even for someone who'd always known he wouldn't be old when he took the throne. He'd just never expected it quite this young.

"Of course subjecting you!," he insisted with a confused look, as though it were as obvious a fact as that of the sky being blue, and waving a hand in the general direction of the window "It's my job to handle all that, not yours. You already did a lot because of me, you being here with me is enough. I promise you."

His arms went around her to hold onto her again when she perched on his lap, finding himself nodding and looking back at her. "At least...some of that can wait till tomorrow. Or will have to," he said, struck by the urge to do just as she said. To stay there, with her, and not have to face any of what was baying for him outside. "If it was a thing, I'd make you the royal tell people to fuck-off person," he told her, having moved his arms and squeezing her hands back, "I should be grieving right now, or comforting my mother or something but I can't. I have to go out there, deal with them, and then relive it all and do it again tomorrow." Caesarion sighed heavily, savouring the moment of calm with her.

"Am I the terrible son people used to insist I was if I'm already looking forward to it all being over? So we can all just go somewhere far away like Caserta and I can tell everyone to fuck off for a while? Because that sounds amazing right about now."

#verse: The ides of march are come for Caesars #prxestess #SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR #oh you poor bb #you need all the bean shaped snugs #never thought we'd see the day he tells people to leave him be