Summary: But what does Brutus see when he sees Antony?
Disclaimer: HBO/BBC owns Rome
Marc Antony steps into the Senate chamber, and in that instant he knows; he knows precisely what had happened.
The cacophony, the melee, the chaos it all fades into the distant background of memory. Hands, clawing him away from the Senate chamber, the panic. The rush of white, fleeing the room, as Antony tries so desperately to get inside.
Little good he would have done.
The chamber is deathly quiet. Antony looks on them, on all their faces So few of them. Quintus, Casca, Cicero. Cassius. Finally, in the center, Brutus, a figure defeated.
The word whispers in his mind, and he knows, he knows what happened as though he´d been inside the chamber, as though he´d seen it with his own eyes.
As Antony licked his way into Brutus´ mouth, Brutus hooked an arm around the back of Antony´s neck, breathless, begging for it.
He imagines these Senators, these cowardly vultures, swarming on Caesar. He imagines the way Caesar must have fought and lost, blood seeping out of him and dripping onto the cold, stone floor. He imagines Brutus watching in shock, in horrorno, Brutus would not have struck the first blow.
I wish you would visit more often,’ Antony murmured into Brutus´ ear. I do so enjoy you stopping by.’
Brutus turned his head and brushed his lips against Antony´s. Perhaps I would more often,’ Brutus breathed, if you left me able to ride a horse afterwards.’
Antony snorted in laughter.
Antony watches, as a as Brutus´ spirit seems to diminish, to wither and die in front of him. Anguish, is it? He deserves anguish. Brutus did not just betray a tyrant; he betrayed a friend.
Brutus would shriek, when Antony pushed inside him after a long time away.
Antony would always have to hold a hand over Brutus´ mouth, and he would always have to watch, Brutus´ legs over his shoulders, deep inside the boy, as Brutus´ eyes flashed with arousal, so much arousal it seemed their coupling would spark into flame.
But he would watch, he would watch and he wouldn´t forget Brutus on those nights alone, after an endless day of killing Gauls. He would remember the look in those eyes when he took himself in hand, though the memory seemed too much to bear.
Brutus had betrayed a friend. But, truly a friend?
Nay, a father.
And as the blood-drenched body of Caesar lies cooling on the Senate floor, a single tear falls down Brutus´ face.
The way Brutus had not looked at him since the surrender. Since he and Cicero had ridden into that damned camp, tired and defeated.
When Antony saw Brutus, he saw disgust, deep in those beautiful eyes.
Right now, Antony would tear those eyes out.
But perhaps not disgust at Antony, as he had always assumed, but disgust at Brutus himself.
But what does Brutus see when he sees Antony?
Antony takes a step backward, shadow falling over his face.
Should have tried harder.
not my fault
Should have gone after him, when he left that table.
Attia was nothing, it was you I wanted
Caesar is dead.
Brutus turns away, the knife falling from his grasp.
Antony slips, out of the shadows, and away.
Disclaimer:Characters (real and fictional) aren't mine, no money is made with these stories and history isn't changed. Damn.