Let's Kill Caesar

15: Spoken like a True Politician

"So," Narcissus said, "What position are you running for?"

"Quaestor." Endymion chewed on his lip, leaning forward. Pompey nodded slowly, eyes pinned to the notebook strewn in the middle of the room. It was already full of Cicero's scribbles, most of which were intelligible. Endymion rubbed his neck. "What? Doesn't everyone start at the bottom?"

Alma rolled her eyes, gaze settling on Narcissus. "Typically. Some individuals are exceptions." 

"Well I certainly won't be one. Where else is there to start?"

"Nowhere else, but there could be some wiggle room this year," Cato muttered with a frown. Endymion scoffed. 

"Enough cousin. This is the republic." 

Endymion waited for Cicero to back him up, for Pompey to interject - Iovita was delusional. There was not a peep. 

Endymion wrinkled his nose, glancing at Cato's companions warily. They all stared right back at him. Even Pompey kept his mouth shut. Dear gods. What do they think is going on? Before the tense silence could drag on, Cicero broke in, "Look, the truth of the matter is that your first election will be the most chaotic in your career. The candidates this time around raise the stakes." 

"You must prepare, Brutus." Narcissus pushed the tawny brown hair from his face, eyes narrowed with purpose. "Clodius, the tribunes - they'll eat you alive."

Endymion bobbed his head, fingers laced together. "Okay. So I avoid them."

Atticus let out a throaty laugh. "No chance, kid. Besides, they are gnats compared to the true rivals, you hear me?"

True rivals? Endymion's brow creased as Cato added sharply, "All your strength should be focused on Octavius - a snake in the grass, that one. He should be your target if you wish to win this thing." 

His heart stopped. Endymion's toes curled painfully. He couldn't steal enough breath to answer. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Cicero laid a soft hand on his back. "Brutus?"

Sweat was pouring down his back, cheeks heating. Endymion drew a ragged breath, stars scattered in his vision. Not Bast... His head fell forward, spinning faster than a ballerina. 

"Fuck me," Atticus snarled, stomping his feet. "This is no politician. This is no man. Tell me Cato, how are we to teach this fool when he grows sick with the very thought of rivalry."

Endymion's stomach turned. The Scipio sounded like his father. Just another disappointed great Roman. "This pathetic creature cannot be taught!"

Pompey held up a hand. "Atticus, that's enough -"

Atticus paid no heed. His words dripped with poison as he jeered, "When I heard the name Brutus, I expected a second Aelius, a man with use. Not this-"

"ENOUGH!" Endymion leapt to his feet and seized Cicero's mug, smashing it on the floor. "I AM OF USE!" 

Cato's eyes widened. Alma leaned back. Pompey's mouth dropped open.

Endymion pointed to his chest as he roared, "I AM NEW, NOT SOME RABBIT-BRED MAN WITH NO FACE!"

Atticus blinked. Endymion couldn't hold back the word vomit. "My family built the Republic."

His words were not his. Instead that rush of euphoria flowed over him, wielding his tongue. "My family built the Republic. Let me transform it."

Endymion stood there panting for a few long moments. Atticus let out a laugh, fierce smile on his face. "Well Brutus, you're a loose cannon. Maybe you could make it. Maybe you'll burn. I don't care which one it'll be yet." 

"That's fair." Endymion wet his lips. Cato got to his feet, eyes still incredibly big.

"Well, Endymion should get going."

As he began to be shepherded from the room, Endymion turned to Cicero. "Sorry about the mug."

***

Cato didn't send him on his way as he'd expected. No, the man dragged Endymion down the other side of the house. 

Cato's home was as traditional as it could get. Blocky rooms of smooth limestone and walls covered with vibrant mosaics. Shrines were set up with gold candlesticks and burning incense, tiny wax and ceramic figurines of Rome's divine. 

Endymion frowned as he was shoved forward, Iovita slamming the door behind him. The younger man gazed around, heart sinking as he saw the curtained poster bed, desk covering in unfinished paper work and ballpoint pens mingled with empty fast food cups. His voice cracked as Endymion breathed, "Oh gods we're in your bedroom."

The one place Iovita's chaos was loosed completely. 

Cato scoffed and stormed to his bed, reaching beneath. Endymion bit his lip as the senator revealed an unopened bottle of champagne and thoughtlessly released the cork. Cato snatched up one of the empty paper cups and straws and poured. So I did terrible. Endymion sunk to the floor, palms pressed on his eyes. "Give me a swig when you're done." 

Iovita laughed, gulping the wine through two soggy straws. "You're not getting off that easy punk."

Cato pushed a tight hand through his hair. 

"You think drinking to forget is 'getting off easy'?"

"No." Cato snorted taking another long sip. "But I need to remember that you were sober during all that horse shit you spewed." 

Endymion shot him a glare. "It wasn't horse shit, Iovita. Let's make that clear."

"Spoken like a true politician. Congrats."

"I spoke up, Cato." Endymion clenched his jaw. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"Yes, I said you needed to find some balls, but you made promises to these people!"

"So?"

Cato's brows knit as he slurped up more wine. The green in his eyes darkened as he spat, "You can't keep them Endymion! You'll fail and embarrass us both!"

Shit. He's right. Gods I hate that. Endymion rolled his eyes, arms limp in defeat. He shrugged and lowered his eyes as his cousin pouted. There was nothing to say, that was the truth of it. Iovita wasn't stupid - he knew the truth of it. If Endymion spoke now, even nodded, the whole plan, any chance the young Brutus might have had would be demolished. Words, his father always said, Words are the true currency in this Republic.

Cato slapped his forehead. "Just get out of here. I'll take the reins."

Endymion's face fell. So I royally fucked this up. Gone was any shred of that awesome confidence. Doubt stalked in his mind like a shadowy, familiar enemy. The senator's mouth felt dry as he answered quietly, "Okay."

Cato slipped his hands into his pockets, bottom lip stuck out. "Just stay out of trouble - that means no gallivanting with the enemy."

A chill entered his blood. "Enemy?"

"Octavius, Antony, the typical assholes."

Endymion blinked slowly. "Oh."