Let's Kill Caesar

20: A Fleck of Sand

"After you."

Endymion blinked as his father gestured to the car and the driver awaiting them. He didn't dare to show hesitation. His butt scooted across the leather seats as the last word left his father's mouth.

Dominicus raised a brow, slipping in after him. Endymion clicked in his seatbelt, hands stiffly clasped in his lap as the driver revved the car to life. He hadn't sat in the family car for...well, for an embarrassingly long while. That itself was explanation enough for Endymion and Dominicus's relationship. When Aelius was in Rome he drove the sleek black car. Alone. 

"I hadn't expected that you would attend." Endymion faced his father warily. Dominicus wrinkled his nose, fingers straightening the pleats of his toga.

"Neither I," the man grunted, "but your mother suggested it might help your current political exploits."

You care that much? Endymion tugged at a loose strand of hair, heart racing."Well I appreciate it."

"You better - I have more pressing matters to tend to."

Endymion grit his teeth and rolled his shoulders. He didn't bother to answer. Hey gods, if you're listening could you please GET ME OUT OF HERE. I will owe you a whole cattle farm.

His eyes drifted out the window. Pedestrians adorned in the Senatorial and regular togas flocked the streets, faces filled with questions. Endymion imagined they expected news of Vero, some exposure of new political rivals. They've hit it right on the money.

A sick feeling in the depths of his stomach had Endymion convinced Vero would make his debut - why else would Bastian have involved himself?

"Tell me, how is your campaign proceeding? You haven't breathed a word of it to me."

Endymion flinched as he noticed the sharp green eyes pinning him down. His voice sounded too loud as he replied, "I didn't think you would care. You said it yourself - I'm not going to win."

Dominicus pouted. "This time is about bringing respect to our family, boy. I care. Enough that a failure...well you won't have that if you wish to truly be one of the patricians."

Endymion was ready to give himself a lobotomy when Dominicus added, "Well? Tell me about your campaign progress."

"Well there isn't much to say, really. I mean, I don't exactly have a strategy, I've just been attempting to find allies..."

"Attempting." His father scoffed and pinched the tips of his eyebrows. "Just spit it out! Who have you found?"

"Well-"

"Let me guess, Bastian Octavius." Dominicus laughed, sharp eyes cutting right through his son. "That would be just like you - fraternising with the enemy like a hopeless idiot." 

Before the Censor could pile on anymore creative insults, Endymion burst out, "Pompey and Cicero have invited me to join them. Along with Atticus Scipio and Cato."

Dominicus blinked slowly, brows stretched high. "Atticus Scipio?"

"The Scipio paterfamilias."

"Ah. I shouldn't be surprised."

Endymion frowned, chest growing tight again. "What?"

"He was a friend of Aelius - they served in the same year of magistracy. I assume your brother went against his better judgement and asked the Scipio to defend our House."

The young senator's heart sank to the floor. He tried to conceal the pain in his voice as he rasped, "Oh. Was he companions with Cicero and Pompey too then?"

Dominicus laughed dryly. "Minerva, no! That must have been Cato's influence."

Endymion didn't bother to answer. He needed battery life if he were to keep his wits about him when they reached the comitium.

Still, he couldn't help but think on his brother. How, even after their long years of familial turmoil, he'd summoned enough compassion to keep Endymion in the strong hands of the boss Scipio.

As he gazed out the window he wondered what Aelius's eyes were seeing across the sea. Endymion tried to imagine an army mustered just for him, all with loyalties tied to his life. The very dream laid a hard weight upon his shoulders. 

But he knew Aelius wouldn't feel that way. He never did. The elder Brutus son was like a fleck of sand in a clam - apply pressure and a pearl formed. Nothing had shaken him since they were children - it was impossible for anything to shake him now. 

The car was rolling through the outskirts of the forum now. Endymion could see dozens of people clad in their best shuffling toward the comitium, faces solemn with concern. How can I blame them?

The crowd consisted mainly of men; despite a turnover of rules more than a century before, it was still frowned upon to see a woman of Rome participating in politics. More conservative politicians viewed the old ways as unspoken law, that women still required no say in 'men's' affairs. And yet there was Alma Cicero, an enigma.

"Driver! Pull over here!"

Dominicus pat down his hair as the car glided to the side. He didn't bother waiting for his son. Endymion rolled his eyes and climbed onto the bitumen. His father was already marching ahead with his nose in the air. 

"Good riddance." Endymion rolled his shoulders back and strode along with the crowd. 

His eyes couldn't help but search for brown eyes, black curls. Even as his phone began to vibrate with notifications. Please don't hate me after today. 

Ping!
His heart leaped into his throat, bile creeping onto his tongue. Endymion drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Ping!

A stiff autumn chill hung heavy in the air. Slipped through the folds of his toga and covered his skin with goosebumps. It wasn't a pleasant cold; it was the kind that soured faces, drew darkness into eyes. The kind that filled Endymion with anxiety as his phone buzzed again. 

His jaw tightened as he glanced down at it. 

BAST 🥹: When this finishes I need to talk to you. Don't flake on me, okay?

Endymion balked, feet heavier than lead. He ignored the glares from passersby as Endymion stared at his phone dumbly. Don't flake on me....is that where we're at now? 

He couldn't stop the sour bile from rising again, stomach double-knotted. The gods had dealt another blow. I really need to sacrifice more.

ENDY: Okay.