The Choices We Make

The Choices We Make
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.
Author’s Notes- This is a future fic, taking place a year or so after the events of Chapter 16. I started thinking about Portia and Antony and how she hates Caesar and how she can do that and yet fall in love with his right-hand man and this was born. It’s not a sad story and yet it is, because while her fate is happier than it is in the Tragedy verse, there’s still a sadness to it.
Pairing- Marc Antony/MC
Rating- PG-13
Summary- Caesar’s return to Rome forces Portia to consider the choices she has made and the price of a happy, comfrotable life.

“Caesar will be in Rome before the week’s end,” Antony said the word casually, but his eyes were anything but as he studied me, waiting for my response.

I froze, my hands clenching around the jug in my hands. I was lucky I hadn’t spilled wine everywhere. I had known this day was coming of course… There had even been a time I’d dreamed of it, but that time had passed. I’d spent the past year in blissful ignorance, trying to block out the knowledge that Caesar would inevitably return.

After all, he had conquered a city, of course, he would eventually want to rule it.

“We will greet him,” Antony continued, still watching me.

“We?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. He knew how I felt about Caesar and yet… Of course, he meant it.

“You will be at my side,” Antony told me firmly, “as you have been this past year. We will host the celebrations, welcoming Caesar to Rome.”

Celebrations, of course. Antony had hosted a lot of those since he had begun to rule in Caesar’s name, his idea of bread and circus working far better than it should, and I had been with him through most of it. Why was I surprised that there would be a celebration now that Caesar had finally returned? But the idea of participating in that celebration…

“I’m surprised you trust me to greet Caesar,” I told him desperately, “you once didn’t even trust me to host a celebration in his name.” I didn’t attempt to hide my bitterness, because the memory still stung, along with the reminder of how close I had come to losing everything.

Antony shrugged, “things have changed,” he reminded me, his hands reaching to caress the swell of my stomach.

Yes, things had changed. Antony was no longer my patron. He was my lover. I was no longer Rome’s most celebrated courtesan, I was Marc Antony’s mistress, and his child grew within me. He or she would join us in time for the harvest.

But none of that changed my feeling about Caesar. Or did it? For the past year it had been easy to forget the source of Antony’s power, to pretend Caesar didn’t exist, but denial didn’t change the truth.

“You can’t still be holding on to your hatred of Caesar,’ Antony reproved, barely hiding his exasperation even as he continued to rub circles over my bulk.

I turned my head to look at him. “Caesar conquered my homeland,” I reminded him, “it was because of him that I was brought to Rome as a slave.”

Antony laughed, but there was no humor to it. “Gaul would always have fallen,” he reminded me, “if not Caesar, some other ambitious general would have aimed his sites at its riches. Gaul could not withstand the might of Rome.”

It was a conversation we’d had many times and I knew there was truth to it, but emotion and logic did not always go together.

“Rome, not Caesar, brought down Gaul and it because it was Caesar, you enjoy a life of luxury,” he continued, “the beautiful villa, the servants, the fine gowns. All paid for by the spoils of Caesar’s war.”

He was right, as much as I tried to ignore it, the truth was I had benefited from Caesar’s power and not just through material things. Antony ruled in Caesar’s name, the most powerful man in Rome, and I was the one at his side and in his bed. It was my counsel he sought.

“You allowed Aquila to live,” Antony reminded me, lowering his head to run his lips over my neck, “and you had more reason to see him dead than Caesar.”

I had. I’d had the chance to kill Aquila, to fulfill my old vow, and instead, I’d turned him over to Antony for justice. Because I had benefitted more from letting Aquila live than I would have from killing him. If I’d been in Antony’s favor at the time, would I have crossed that line? Probably.

And yet, he was right. I’d let Aquila live and I’d done it for him, to regain his favor. Aquila who had personally burned my village and enslaved by people. Who’s cruelty and greed knew no bounds. I hated the idea of Caesar, but I hated Aquila in truth and yet, I’d let him live.

“Everything I am is because of Caesar,’ Antony added, drawing me closer, “and it’s because of him that I can protect you and the child.”

He was right, of course. I felt a quick surge of fear at the idea of my child being at Rome’s mercy. Part of me still couldn’t believe I’d agreed to have Antony’s child but, he could be very persuasive when he wanted something…

Antony’s hand closed over mine, stopping it as I was about to sip my silphium tea. “What would you say if I asked you to stop taking that?”

I glanced at in him in surprise. It didn’t surprise me that he recognized the purpose of the tea, not much slipped Antony’s notice and he must have some knowledge of the subject because while he had bastards, he did not have as many as his reputation would suggest he should.

“That would mean…” I trailed off, unwilling to even say it.

“A child,” Antony finished for me, his hand still holding mine. “You told me you would do anything to prove your loyalty, to show that I have no cause to doubt you. What better way than a son?”

“It could be a daughter,” I countered, amazed that I was even considering the possibility. I couldn’t have Antony’s child, could I? A pregnant courtesan was something that simply wasn’t allowed to happen. Of course, I was no logger a courtesan, I was Antony’s mistress and mistresses had babies all the time…

But could I? Could I bring a child into the Roman world? Marc Antony’s child at that. The child of one of the most powerful and most hated men in Rome.

“Then hopefully she is as beautiful as her mother,” Antony said smoothly, dropping my hand, the tea sloshing slightly as he did so. His hand moved to my stomach instead. “Will you give me this, Portia? Will you tie yourself to me?”

Hadn’t I already? I had sworn my loyalty over and over, I had moved out of the scholae and allowed myself to be dependent on Antony, I had turned my back on Cassius, all to prove myself to Antony. And now he was asking for more.

In some ways, the request didn’t surprise me. Antony was a possessive man. He had made it clear from the first night I had graced his bed, that I was his alone, and now he was staking his claim in another way. A child would tie me to him forever.

Even illegitimate, this would still be his child and he would never let it go. He was asking for a child, but he was also asking for me to submit myself to him completely, to allow him an inescapable hold over me. Could I bear that?

As answer, I slowly poured the tea onto the ground, careful not to splash either of our legs.

Antony grinned and pulled me against him, his lips capturing mine in a rough kiss. “Let’s get to work then,” he whispered against my mouth, his hands caressing my curves through the gauzy material of my gown.

It hadn’t been long before I’d missed my cycle and by the second month, I’d known that Antony had gotten his wish and the knowledge had just seemed to increase his ardor for me. The past months had been truly happy ones, basking in Antony’s joy and attention, but I should have known that reality would intrude eventually and all happiness came at a price.

“If you think I should be there to greet Caesar then I will be,” I told Antony now, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in my throat.

“Good,” Antony said triumphantly, “because Caesar deserves to be greeted by the most beautiful and powerful woman in Rome,” his hands slid up from my belly to my breasts, “though you are his to admire and nothing else, because I don’t share.”

“Not even with Caesar?” I mocked, knowing his famed loyalty.

“Not even with Caesar,” Antony told me, tilting my head up towards him and kissed me fiercely. I sank into his kiss, desperate to lose myself for at least a little while longer.
**

“So this is the legendary Princess of Gaul,” Caesar commented several days later, his eyes looking me up and down, taking in every detail and filing it away. Like Antony, this was a man who missed nothing. But unlike Antony, there was no lust clouding his gaze.

Caesar might recognize my beauty, but he didn’t want me on a personal level. Which was good, because that was a complication I didn’t need, even with Antony’s assurance that his loyalty to Caesar had a limit.

“That’s what they call me,” I agreed, finding my voice. I had imagined meeting Caesar many times over the years, but not like this. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I’d been doing in while standing beside his most trusted soldier. “Welcome back to Rome Great Caesar.” The title felt wrong, but the movements in my belly spurred me on, reminded me of why I had to do this. This was the only path for me now.

If Caesar was surprised by my greeting, it didn’t show, he simply smiled approvingly. “She is as lovely and gracious as the rumors say,” he murmured to Antony, his attention no longer on me. “Your taste has improved.”

Antony merely grinned, his hand resting possessively on my back. “She has won the hearts of Rome. Who am I to resist her charms?”

Caesar did not acknowledge Antony’s comment, his eyes still fastened on me  “I assume you will be at the festivities later?” Caesar asked, referring to his official welcome back to Rome and his long-awaited Triumph.

The idea felt heavy in my stomach, attending a Triumph after all these years, not as a slave, but as a member of the Roman elite. I’d had a hard time refraining my anger when Antony had added that bit, but I had because it would serve me no purpose. Anger wouldn’t change the choices I had made or the situation I found myself in.

And skipping the Triumph would only put me and my child in harm’s way because it would be a statement. I would be declaring myself an enemy of Caesar and even Antony couldn’t, and probably wouldn’t even if he could, protect me then. Because Antony’s ability to keep me safe came from Caesar.

It was a terrible irony, that my best source of protection was the man who had put me at Rome’s mercy in the first place.

“Of course she will,” Antony answered for me, “the crowds delight in Portia’s presence.”

“I can see why,” Caesar commented, giving me another long, appraising look. “If they didn’t call you the Princess of Gaul, no one would be able to guess you weren’t Roman.”

I wasn’t sure if it was an insult, a compliment or merely an observation. Perhaps, all three.

I met Caesar’s eyes and saw cold amusement there. It occurred to me that the idea of Caesar had been my enemy since I was a girl, but now faced with the man himself… I realized I had been fooling myself if I thought I was any match for him and that he would be a very, very dangerous enemy to have.

As my child kicked inside of me, a reminder of all I had to lose, and Antony’s hand rested on my back, part warning and part possession, I forced myself to smile charmingly. “You honor me, domine.”

Caesar returned my smile. “As you honor me. My triumph will be all the more memorable with the presence of such beauty.” He took my hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly, but his eyes were still cold, still carefully studying me. This was a test and I had passed. For now.

Caesar dropped my hand and then turned to Antony. “Antony, come, we have things to discuss.”

“Of course,” Antony told him, he rubbed my back briefly before dropping his hand, “go home and rest, you will need all your strength for the Triumph.”

I nodded and watched the two men stride away before turning back in the direction of my villa, my stomach feeling heavy in a way that had nothing to do with the child growing there.

I was going to attend Caesar’s Triumph. I would be there to cheer him on, my presence and support adding to the spectacle, even the Princess of Gaul stood behind Caesar. It made me sick and yet… What choice did I have? I had chosen Antony and that meant, that without realizing it, I had also chosen Caesar and now… Now I had to live with that choice.

• End