Kaisaros: The Roman Pharaoh

Chapter Three: I Can Hear His Heartbeat

I think a part of me will never truly forget the look of horror on Cleopatra's face when I showed her the bloody scarab necklace. I had told her about my plan on taking her back to Rome in my victory march by the end of the week. Then I stationed some of my men to watch over the room she sealed herself in.

She had questioned where Antony was, and I only responded by smiling at her and closing the door on my way out. It will take some time preparing a ship back to Rome so I wait in the meantime back at the camp. Antony is asleep in his hammock when I go see him. I watch him sleep as I wash Caesarion's blood from my fingers and the necklace.

More out of a nervous tick, I gently trace the scarab wings with pale fingers before putting the jewelry on and hiding it under my breastplate. I was never a person known for personal adornment, save for this time.
"Did you see the queen?" Antony's sleepy voice makes me jump, whirling to face him. He looks a bit better now that he's rested.
"I did," I reply simply, walking over.

"What did she say? Did she ask for me?" he asks quietly. Irritated, I shake my head. "No. She thinks you died," I lie. Might as well have Cleopatra and Antony separated for the time being.

Antony winces at my harsh tone and remains quiet.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"Everything," he answers, hairy chest heaving as he panics. He probably thinks I'm going to kill him the moment I get him and his men back to Rome. I don't blame him for thinking that. We had a rivalry ever since he ran off from his marriage to Octavia.

Glancing at the entrance to the tent, I walk over and bend down to face the older man. "I'm not going to kill you, Antony."
"You're not?" He blinks in disbelief.
"No," I whisper, showing the softer side that only he has seen. Despite looking calm, I feel my heart race at being so close to Antony once more.

Gently, my lips meet his for the first time since the Battle of Philippi. Despite it being years, his lips feel the same, albeit somewhat chapped. He looks alarmed at the affection, but kisses back, relaxing.
I feel his fingers weaving through my hair, tangling the curls more.

I make a small sound in my throat, whether that be a moan or a whimper, I cannot tell. Antony seems to have heard it, judging by his hum of amusement. I pull away, breathing labored and wipe my mouth.
"I was just getting to the good part," Antony muses with a tired laugh, licking his lips.

His cockiness makes me feel nineteen years old all over again. "So what's your plan, hm? Parade Cleopatra through the streets of Rome and then kill her? Caesar tried that with her half-sister Arsinoe and remember how that turned out?"
I wasn't in Rome when this event occurred years ago. Story goes that Julius had taken Arsinoe prisoner and was planning on killing her by strangulation, but the Roman people were angry.

So he instead had Arsinoe exiled, where she later died under mysterious circumstances, possibly by Cleopatra's orders. Flustered, I answer, "I haven't thought that far yet."
Antony snorts and winces, hand going to his side.
"Well, you better figure something out fast," he muses, then frowns at seeing how exhausted I look.

I must look like a wreck both physically and mentally.
"Come here, Thurinus," he motions, holding his hand out. I glance back at the tent entrance, knowing that my men are still out scouting the city, but am wary of being so close to my once hated rival.
Huffing out a sigh, I walk over and grab his hand.

Smiling, he pulls me down to the point I'm practically in the hammock with him. Alarmed, I scramble to get my footing, but Antony holds me firmly by the shoulders.
"Relax," he soothes, voice low and gruff.
"What if I hurt you?" I ask, looking down at his healing wound.

He rolls his eyes. "Are you kidding? Even at thirty-three, you practically weigh like a mass of feathers. I'm tougher than I look, Octavian."
Scoffing at his teasing, I slowly lay down on him, feeling his arms around me.

Since I'm laying on my side, I can hear his heartbeat clearly. I feel a tear escape my eye, then another, and another. I tremble as I cry, realizing just how close I was to losing Antony forever. "My love..." Antony sighs, using part of my red cloak to wipe my tears away, then he kisses my face a few times.
"I'm not going anywhere," he assures me, fingers going through my hair again in a soothing motion.

I remember him rubbing my back in times of stress, but since I am wearing a breastplate, I wouldn't be able to feel his touch. "We'll figure this out," he smiles, looking like the old Antony that always got on my nerves.
I touch his face, feeling the stubble of facial hair.
"You don't know how long I've missed touching soft things," he croons, turning and kissing the palm of my hand.
"Just trust me," he murmurs.
"I do. For now, we plan with my men. Will you be able to walk?"
"Perhaps. These stitches itch more than anything. I'm certain I'll be able to walk."
I smile. "Good. I'll let my troops know you're on my side now."