[anneboleynqueen]

Anne!

[couplestv]

THE ARTFUL DODGER (2023 - )

[littlecaesar]

The world was upside down at the moment; the country was up in arms demanding him, his father was in a morgue somewhere with bullet holes in his chest, his mother was delirious with grief. He was sure one half of his family was plotting and scheming already, and the other packing their bags and hauling ass onto their private jets to be there. Right now though, right now he mentally doubled the thanks he knew he owed to Emyrs, and wondered if you could knight someone twice.

"You flew? For me?" he managed to get out when she came forward and hugged him, his own arms immediately grabbing tightly hold of her, "Thank you". For a second he almost forgot he was still likely rather crusty with blood, and looked like a disheveled mess. He'd never been so glad, so relieved, to see someone in his life.

For a few minutes he didn't even know what to say, and just kept holding on to her. It was like all the noise disappeared just for a moment, though he was rapidly approaching the end of his rope. Maybe she was keeping him upright at the moment, because all he really wanted to do was fall back onto the floor. "I...I almost died Tria. Without your dad I might have. I was just standing there like an idiot and he pointed it at me next." The words exploded out of him all in a rush as though the damn had finally broken.

"Then Brutus was tackled and my father was on the floor bleeding. So much blood...and I couldn't even stay. Emrys, he hauled me up and I couldn't even be there anymore. Christ I know we didn't get along but he was my father and he was dying. And hardly anyone seems to get that!". He cast a venomous glance at the window then, the noise of the crowd muffled by the walls but still easy enough to hear.

He didn't say anything at first when Tria asked about him having eaten and needing to change, the small breakfast and suit he'd thrown on seemed like part of a separate life now. "I had breakfast," he muttered, "Probably wouldn't keep much down. And my clothes...". Caesarion stared down between them at himself and his still stained clothing, bloody visions in his head again.

"They're not going to go....they want me. They don't seem to care my father is dead, that I saw it, that I could have lead on my chest right now." He let her go then, sinking back down onto the floor and running his hands through his messed up curls in a distracted manner.

"I wouldn't hate you if you did that, I don't think I could regardless," he muttered, "But don't. I'll...I'll have to go out eventually but I'm not subjecting you to anything else today."

[prxestess]

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."

[prxestess]

"2,000 talents were paid to Octavian to protect the stone you wished to." Dion couldn't pretend to understand what was going on in that head of his daughter's but he knew she had done everything she could to gather the money for Archibus to hand over. Though it made his stomach knot to think on. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Damnatio memoriae is a deserved punishment for Antony and I'll not step in the way of any who'd seek to smash the remnants of him in this life... but her..." Too many emotions swirled within her when she thought of her aunt and the fate the Romans had for her. Seeking to erase her forever while knowing that to deny her essence in the world was to deny her the afterlife too. It wasn't something Tria could allow herself to think on. They had to be together, the three of them - after all they'd done, all they'd gone through: she couldn't allow Rome to deny them that.

It would sound foolish to him, Tria knew. He didn't believe in the same things she did or her mother had. Swallowing back a more emotive response, Tria looped her arm through his and cast her gaze up to the relief of the temple Hathor: mother and son side by side for eternity. She had formally been acknowledged in the temple of the Birth of Isis as the new High Priestess but couldn't leave without seeing them one last time. There was a stillness as night descended and an attendant went around lighting the lamps: she felt oddly at peace despite the turmoil engulfing her from every side back home.

"It is but money." A hell of a lot of money. That had to grease Octavian's palms of all people. If it made her dad's stomach knot, it made Tria feel positively sick to her stomach: but that was the game she entered and so, if she had to grease the palms of that pretender to protect the immortal soul of her aunt, she would. "And it's what Caesar would want."

Of that, Tria was certain. Caesarion would ultimately have a plan to retrieve every last talent back from the worthless excuse of a leader but he'd want his mother not to be erased. She knew that.

[obsessedoverher]

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[loyalcharmian]

@prxestess ||

The crowd that engulfed the forecourt of Sapienza took even Charmian's breath away. Emrys had been furious the visit had been announced and clearly with good reason. The students were hanging out the windows trying to catch a glimpse of the girl the media had long dubbed Italy's Cinderella.

Dion shifted uncomfortably as the metal barriers, containing more people, winked in the brilliant spring afternoon light. He hadn't been quite as cross as Emrys, he found it difficult to be angry with anything to do with learning and Sapienza was a hub of such that he couldn't fail to be impressed by. Even as the huge amount of people waiting on his daughter shocked him.

Parking was a nightmare as every spare bit of space was consumed by people wanting to see Tria but he managed to just squeeze in as one professor pulled out, muttering beneath his breath in frustrated Latin which Dion understood every word of and agreed heartily. This was over kill. This wasn't normal. But this was her life. Perhaps it always had been and no-one had really noticed.

Taking off their seat belts in unison Charmian and Dion exchanged nervous glances before putting on their best smiles for the girl of the hour.

"Ready?" Dion asked as Charmian reached back to squeeze her hand. "We don't have to get out. It's just a tour. We can go right home and think nothing more of it."

[prxestess]

Although her parents expressed surprise at this turn of events, Tria felt none. A nation that had gone through a shock sought stability and Caesarion's personal life offered none. Although the exes would soon be gracing the front pages to tell the story of how they were almost Queen - the only stable feature in the most important part of his life, the part that most mattered, was her and she felt absolutely no surprise her life and her next moves were being focused on.

Interest in her had always been rampant but now it had clearly kicked up a gear or twelve. As they drove into the forecourt and the car was engulfed by people - some waving flags, some cheering, some merely curious what she really looked like: Tria braced herself. It was daunting to see the historic building swallowed by the curious faculty and students but she wouldn't run away.

Blinking back to the here and now, leaving her swirling thoughts to recede, Tria nodded at her dad and squeezed her mother's hand back. "I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with." The moment she unclipped her seatbelt and opened the door, she regretted not having the forethought for noise cancelling headphones. "At least it's not boos." She muttered to herself as she stepped out, shutting the door with a decisive thud.

Tucking her windswept curls behind her ear, she contemplated for a full thirty seconds whether to just drop her hand or acknowledge the people surrounding her on all sides. She decided to do what Caesarion would and waved: it earned her a cheer that gave her the confidence to let go of a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

With her nerves semi-settled, she put on a smile and rounded the car to the Rector of Sapienza, taking the extended hand she smiled and shook it, trying to make herself heard above the crowd sounds. "Thank you so much for having me, I hope I haven't caused any problems for you " she stepped aside and gestured to her parents. "My parents are with me."

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[moonlightingcurse]

Much Ado About Nothing (2011) dir. Josie Rourke

[finnwaller]

Have to say, the uncropped version of the image is actually really nice.

[littlecaesar]

Blood.

When he would look back on it later in a more stable mindset, or at least as stable as he could be about it, Caesarion would remember blood.

They'd just stood for the anthem, his father unable to avoid taking him to Parliament with him now that he was of age. He vaguely remembered the elder Caesar muttering something about staying quiet and not showing him up or embarrassing him, when suddenly Brutus was there, a gun in his hand and within seconds the world was changed. A few shots in rapid succession and his father crumpled to his feet as Caesarion was sprayed in a shower of his blood.

Not even a second afterwards Brutus had turned to look at him and for a heart stopping moment Caesarion thought he was going to be next. Caesarion's eyes were trained to the old man on the ground, gasping for air as he clutched at his chest. In another few second he could hear so much shouting, someone calling his name and a presence shielding him from what was about to happen. At the same time his father's security had tackled Brutus, a bullet ricocheting somewhere in the chamber. Caesarion dropped to his own knees in shock, but the truth was there. His father was already dying, there was nothing that could be done to save him.

Looking up he realized it was Emrys who had shielded him and was now pulling him to his feet. He'd protested initially; he and his father had never gotten along but he was dying for God's sake and he couldn't just leave him there. The man had insisted though, told him they had to get him out of there. They had to get him home and had to do it now.

He was herded through the crowd of people at lightning speed after being yanked to his feet, he caught a last glimpse of his father on the marble floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood before he was rushed out a side door.

The ride back home was an absolute blur. He managed to keep it together as well as he could. Emrys seemed at a loss for what to say too, and Caesarion impressed himself with the fact that he didn't break. Didn't until he'd once again been hustled out of the car, through the veritable wall of the army that surrounded the palace by the time he got there. Inside the foyer his utterly distraught mother was being half held up by Charmian and Iras, and he broke down when she launched herself at him. "He's dead now isn't he mama," he said, seeing her faint nod as they both sunk to the floor, "Brutus, it was that bastard Brutus and now...now he's dead."

Caesarion would be eternally and forever grateful for Emrys for everything he'd done that day, managing to keep the worst of the wolves at bay. Olympos had been summoned at some point to check on him and his mother, eventually he'd left her in the physicians hands to tend to while he attended to what was necessary. Which seemed to amount to a great deal of cussing loudly at people, telling officials to fuck off, keeping reporters and various political people from breaking the gates down and dragging him out to immediately declare him King.

At some point, just after he'd signed orders to make SURE his family stayed safe and protected, Emrys had told him that his father's body had been taken to a secure location by the undertakers; they'd be able to see him tomorrow. He'd nodded, asking to be left alone and not disturbed unless it couldn't possibly wait. Naturally he trusted the man to know the difference and hoped against hope he could at least remain undisturbed a little while.

The crowds had started gathering outside the gates almost immediately after Caesarion had arrived, the noise pounding in his head as he'd sat in a study that had been his father's that morning but that evening was now his. He'd tried to write something, anything to put out a statement but words wouldn't come. He'd shoved the desk chair aside and slumped to the floor against the wall, his father's portrait looming over him. He couldn't even shut his eyes because there was that blood again, the same blood still staining the clothes that he wore.

He didn't know how long it was after, the noise outside hadn't ceased and he was still slumped against the wall, when a knock sounded on his door. He was startled out of his near trance and scrambled to his feet and the desk; hands gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white. "Emrys, is everything all..." he called, every bit of control he had focused on keeping his voice calm and still, but he stopped when the door creaked open and shut behind someone he had not expected to see at all.

"De...Demetria, you're here," he managed to get out, shock colouring his tone and he was horribly close to feeling like he might burst into tears again, "Oh thank God."

[prxestess]

As a student of history the inconsistencies between testimonies of great historic moments had always frustrated Tria - how could it be that you didn't remember the minutiae of a moment history would record and dissect over and over forever? Now she knew the answer. That moments of history crept up on you and you never knew you were living through them until it was too late.

When she had left her dorm that morning she had never imagined how the day would end. Had not foreseen the lecture on the nuances of Anne Boleyn's involvement in the Reformation being interrupted by a tearful member of staff asking her to take a call in her office. She hadn't imagined that she would hear the news of the assassination and run outside into a world of heavy silence. No cars, buses or traffic of any kind nor any planes above.. only crying, shell shocked people.

She definitely hadn't imagined she'd be volunteering to go back to Rome in the helicopter she'd avoided her whole life just to be home faster than a six hour drive. The ride had passed by torturously slow but her brain was whizzing too fast to process any of the million things going around and around her head.

The day Tria had always dreaded had arrived far sooner and bloodier than she'd ever imagined it would. Due to the age of the King she had always known it would be sooner rather than later but she had never thought it'd end like this: him brutally slain and Caesarion suddenly King. If she hadn't been so scared of the helicopter falling from the sky it might've occurred to her then that life as she knew it, had hoped it'd be for a while longer, was over and there was no going back.

Having survived the flight, her dad met her on the lawn. As they'd proceeded into the palace the eery silence of the staff quarters gave way to the pounding, invasive demand for the King. She'd peered in disbelief out the curtain to see them for herself and then they'd changed their chant, calling her name with the same urgency they'd insisted on his presence with. The demands followed her up the staircase but she never thought to answer them - it had never been her place to stand on that balcony and it never would be. Cinderella only got her Prince in the movies and besides, no-one ever mentioned a King. No fairy-tale like that existed nor ever could. Kings were heads of state, the face on the money, not romantic figures.

With the fear of the flight no longer able to distract her, each step up the grand staircase taking her closer to the new King: Tria found herself having to accept that just as a reign had ended and a new one had begun, so had a chapter in her life ended and a new one was being written with each step. Though she had hoped for many more years with Caesarion fate had made its decision: their paths were to part irretrievably but she promised herself she would see him to his coronation and then quietly slip away back to her world of books while he became what he was always meant to be - the best King Italy ever had. ( Though heaven help him with the society mamas! )

It had taken her a minute, perhaps two, to pluck up the courage to knock on the door - which seemed stupid really, yes he was King now but up until a few hours ago he'd just been her best friend and still, she hoped, for now, was. The knot in her stomach tightened as she slipped in, her amusement at his mistaking her for her dad falling away as she took in his blanched knuckles, the blood that remained caked to his clothes and his reaction to her being one of complete relief. Her knee jerk reaction was to make a joke of it, as they always had - to tease him but she couldn't find the words.

She should have curtsied, she knew that: was she not a student of history? Yet she couldn't make herself do that either. Instead, Tria closed the gap between them and without a care for the mess he was in or the mess it would make of her, she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her. "Thank God for good helicopter pilots," she managed a half tease, squeezing him gently. "you're the only person I'd fly for." She wanted to cry herself: cry for everything that was lost that they could never get back but refused to allow herself. Instead she spoke quietly, holding him to her. "I'm so sorry."

Even in the relative peace of the office the hum of the crowd penetrated the walls; to them she wanted to scream don't you understand he's just lost his father you ghouls? But she couldn't do that either. There was so much she couldn't do that that alone might make her scream. But what she could do was take care of him. Tria lifted her head from his chest, still keeping her hold of him, but tipped her head back so she could see him properly; her voice and the crease between her brows betrayed her concern. "Have you eaten? You should, I could get you something and... you need a bath. Get you out of these clothes and.." frustration filtered in at that incessant, pounding, demanding noise from outside. "would you hate me if I went outside and yelled at everyone to shut up and go home?" She offered him a half smile with the ghost of playfulness. "I will, just say the word."

[prxestess]

The acoustics inside the palace were second to none and it proved itself as Emrys led Tria inside and the thunderous demand for the King bounced throughout the halls. He knew if he twitched a curtain he would see a forecourt swallowed by people: grieving people but selfish too, he thought because they wanted only what they wanted and thought nothing of what was happening inside.

"He's in high demand." Emrys couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice. But he didn't even try. "You would think it was national day and not the day he watched his father being murdered."

He had seen it too: seen Brutus focus in on Caesarion and bolted across the senate; shielding the now King as the bullet ricocheted off the marble, sending a chunk of history flying across the floor. He made the mental note to have that repaired before Caesarion went back.

After recovering from her helicopter flight, Tria followed her dad inside the palace struck at once by how oddly silent it was in the servants quarters. The palace, though she'd often thought of it as cage-like in comparison with Caserta, was always brimming with people, humming with life as everyone went about their jobs just as people had before them and would after they were gone. The silence, in contrast, was deafening and oppressive as if the fabric of the building knew what had happened and mourned with them.

Silence did not last however as they wound their way towards the front of the building: Tria covered her ears against the intrusive sounds from the street which she came to realise was the repetitive, demanding call for the King. It was intrusive and suffocating, as if they were inside and closing in on her: though she tried to cup her ears tighter, the sound still slithered through, echoing in her head.

"They can't be serious," she argued in vain, looking to her father helplessly as she gave in the fight and dropped her hands. There was no escape from them. "he just saw his father get shot!" She had to see for herself, she had to see the faces of those who were putting themselves above a grieving 18 year old - no matter if he was now a monarch.

On pulling the curtain back she saw thousands of faces looking up at her; all ages, all races, all walks of life seeking reassurance that the worst was over and they could leverage themselves to this new reign, to their new King. The front row of the gathered spotted her first and a cheer resounded, the calls changing from the King to her name briefly. She didn't smile or wave: merely dropped the curtain, disappointed in them.

[smallcloisville]

Their height difference is everything 😂😂

[marikastarkwalker]

AND SHE HAS HEELS 😭

[littlecaesar]

"I'm aware. I've been reading the thing multiple times a day, backwards and forwards. I even copied it out a few times in other langauges for practice," he told her, shrugging his shoulders.

"You know, I honestly am not sure if I actually remember him, or if I'm only remembering being told about things that happened," he admitted, looking over at her, "I'll never tell my mother that of course. I know it makes her happy to think that I remember him, even if only tiny bits. I don't think I'll ever be sure of that really, but there's no need to admit that to anyone else. I wish I could remember him though, hopefully he's going to be proud of what I'll do to Rome."

Caesarion raised an eyebrow but went quiet and listened to her say her piece. For all he was Pharaoh, and practically Emperor already, even he knew better than to interrupt a Ptolemaic woman. Well most of the time anyway. He wasn't stupid, he knew people talked about her, said things to her and he'd always felt like shit for that because he was also quite aware it was because of him. People were, at least usually, smart enough to not say anything when he was within earshot to do something about it. Sometimes he really did wish they would though, he quite liked the thought of extracting his vengeance on people.

"It's not like our grandfather was born on the proper side of the blanket himself," he said finally, nodding at her, "He didn't do too badly for himself all things considered. Got some halfway decent grandkids out of it anyway, even if most of his sons in law were or are absolute shit. Or also his own sons. Please tell me we're not going to make ours do that right?"

He would easily admit to the surprise at her only condition to agreeing to marry him, to basically handing him the proverbial keys to the city. But he also had to admit he was impressed she'd actually ask something like that. "I could, if I wanted to," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders, "Just haven't wanted to yet. There's very little I can't do if I try; though the latest has been make a list of everyone I'd like to slit the throat of and toss in the Tiber the minute the laurels are on my head. By the way, feel free to give me names if you want almost wife. Though I expect two of the ones near the top are going to be your first suggestions anyway."

Looking at her he was a little surprised by the question. Caesarion didn't think anyone had really asked him what his true thoughts on it were; well maybe his mother had a little but they'd largely discussed it from the perspective that it would save their country a great deal of trouble, that the men would sing his praises to the Gods for saving them a war, and she'd also had an unnervingly knowing look on her face saying he'd have a wife he knew he could trust. "Honestly, a little miffed I don't get to slaughter massive amounts of people in battle to get Rome, but from what I've heard it's very like my father to pull a stunt like this," he replied, putting a hand to his head and trying to sound as dramatic as possible, "Oh most definitely I'm cursing him. My terrible father shackled me with a smart, pretty wife, that I get along with, that I trust, that I know my family loves, oh the absolute horror. I'll go around and have Ouroboros kick the heads off all his statues immediately. Damnatio memoriae for him."

It was probably not dignified for Pharaohs or almost Emperors to snort with laughter, but that was precisely what Caesarion found himself doing. "Oh you enjoy my misbehaving do you? Well well, won't Rome be thrilled their empress is encouraging my horrid behaviour," he said teasingly, getting up off the desk to take her hands and pull her out of the chair, "Well you aren't wrong, I certainly will be. Sooner rather than later possibly if you go along with my idea and I think you will."

He walked over to where he'd set the scroll, pulling her along with him and tapped the scroll with his hand. "Now it goes without saying we are having a second ridiculous, over the top wedding at home, but all this says is that we need to get married in Rome. Nothing about when, how big, or anything else," he explained, having genuinely thought about this for a while now, "So what if....we went to the Temple of Isis here and got married...today. Right now. After getting dressed of course. Imagine how pissed off all those windbags in the Senate would be, and they couldn't do a damn thing about it! We'd be following my father's will to the letter after all. They would never challenge the Great Caesar"

[prxestess]

"I think I do remember him - at least, a little," Tria ventured, filled with a sudden silly hope that perhaps her small fragment of memory of the dictator might jog something within Caesarion. It felt selfish, cruel even, that she would have this moment lodged forever in her brain ( largely due to Caesarion himself, it had to be said ) and he had nothing. "We were here, in the villa and I remember this voice calling you Ptolemy and I've always assumed that was him, because who of the men in our group would've called you that? You shrieked, as you always did then, that you're not Ptolemy and then it's just a man's laughter." She shrugged helplessly, offering him a half smile. "It's not much but.."

She also had flashing memories of Ides: moments she'd once mentioned to her mother and had seen her eyes fill with tears that they would be etched forever in her daughter's memory. On the basis of that experience, Tria decided not to tell him those. She hadn't realised she was holding her breath after her speech about her reasons for wanting to take this deal until he didn't speak any criticism against it and instead ventured on about their grandfather: she allowed herself a breathy laugh filled with relief; her shoulders coming down from where they'd tightened around her ears. "How many Caesars such as yourself are you planning on unleashing upon the world?" She asked; both curious and amused. "Are you going to be one of those men who hates having daughters? You should say so now so I can get my disappointment with you out of the way for I've always wanted a daughter."

Tria tried desperately to ignore the way her heart raced as he called her almost wife but she failed miserably. She chewed on her lip, trying to ignore also the pleasure it brought her that he would do as she asked: how hard was it really? She hadn't asked for him to curb anything but his free door policy to his bed. A bargain for all that she came with, if you asked her. "I won't insult your intelligence by denying Agrippa and Octavian are a'top that list but I think you should go better than just a top five or ten." She met his gaze then and shrugged, this time barely concealing a smirk. "I mean… you're Caesar: you're Emperor. But you're also Egypt and those men in that senate approved a war against you and wanted the head of your mother." Also Antony, but as he was most often these days, he wasn't relevant. "They wanted her dead and Egypt for themselves yet now they will be trying to sweeten you up so they can stay in power in Rome: your Rome. I think you should teach them all a lesson in loyalty they'll never forget."

For as bad as she was certain she was going to be for his ego, Tria now knew for certain he was terrible for her blood pressure. She did a double take as he called her a smart, pretty wife. "You just called me pretty." Half questioning, half accusation: her countenance wore clearly a look of confusion. That was new. Although she supposed she should be glad he didn't think her the ugliest thing he'd ever seen - that would make producing heirs a tad awkward. "Damnatio memoriae wouldn't be a bad thing for some of the aforementioned members of the senate, you know. Why let history remember the names of traitors to the Emperor? Then your horse from the pits of Hades can still have fun." She stuck her tongue out at him and his dramatics but amusement danced in her doe eyes.

Tria laughed as he talked of Rome and her enjoyment of his antics. "Guilty. I do... when it's not at my expense you can be terribly amusing." She paused, pretending to consider it. "Some times." She had no argument to counter it or deny it after all she'd just encouraged him to mass murder his senate. All amusement and pretence died in the moment he so casually confirmed he would be inside her and soon. Her body felt hot all over - was there a window open? She went to fan herself, forgetting about a witty comeback but he stepped close and took her hand instead. "Plan?" she squeaked, coughed lightly and tried again. "Plan?"

Not that it was going to do her racing pulse any good, nor the fact her body felt on fire, but Tria obediently got up out of his chair, all too aware he was holding her hand and she was letting him and followed to the scroll. She was also acutely aware he had made no attempt to let her hand go so in turn made no attempt to take it back - they were going to be married after all. "Of course we are," she muttered, shuddering at the thought of how ridiculous that wedding would be once her mother and aunts got a whiff of what was going on. "you'll be histories first Groomzilla, I'm certain, with your helpful sidekick my mother aiding and abetting you every inch of the tacky ridiculous way." She followed along with his train of thought easily but as he'd snatched it from her earlier, Tria still bent to read it for herself. He was right, there wasn't any specifics bar get married in Rome.

When she cast her gaze back up and took him in, she saw how much the idea of flipping the bird at the senate meant to him and that obvious excitement was infectious. "Today? Now? Well.... I'd make a joke about how eager you are to get my clothes off but I suppose I should be glad you're not suggesting marrying me in a toga." She made a face close to disgust. "Too much like laundry." She allowed herself a moment of thought before nodding and squeezing his hand. "I think I can fit a wedding into my afternoon plans... although I warn you I don't have anything nearly as fancy as you do. Just that red dress my mother insists you like." She let go of his hand, reluctantly. "Meet you back here in twenty minutes?" Tria paused and shot him a look that screamed doubt and I know you too well why am I asking this? "Can YOU be ready in twenty minutes?"

[alicent-florent]

The Other Bennet Sister (2026)

[onscreenkisses]

THE ARTFUL DODGER, 1x06 - "Bully in the Alley"