Ghost of You

Ghost of You
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.
Author’s Notes- This literally popped into my head when I was bringing in wood and demanded to be written. It’s just a short little piece because my muse is a cruel bitch and wants to torture us all with the poetic tragedy of this situation.
Pairing- Antony/MC
Rating- PG
Summary- Antony has a random encounter with a child in the streets of Rome and is haunted by the memory of the woman he can’t forget. 



The child was about four or five. Antony liked children, but it was rare for a random child to catch his eye. Yet as the little girl darted in front of him, intent on some goal only she knew, something about her caught his eye.

Maybe it was the curls. Long and loose, flying in the wind, giving the child a wild look despite her fine clothes. Like a certain Princess of Gaul. Antony tried to banish that memory, focusing on the child instead.

She skidded to a stop in front of him and Antony saw her goal was a doll. He hadn’t even noticed it on the road in front of him, if the child hadn’t caught his eye he would have stepped right over it. Out of an instinct he didn’t even understand, he reached down and picked it up, handing it to the child.

“Is this yours?”

She took it from him with a nod. “Yes. My brother threw it.” Her face puckered into a look of outrage and he resisted the urge to laugh. His eyes scanned her face again, taking in the bright green eyes. It was like a punch to the gut. Those eyes… If he didn’t know better he would have sworn they were Portia’s eyes.

But Portia was dead and had been for five years.

Antony shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and the uncomfortable feeling brought on by certain memories.

“Livia!”

A woman’s voice, a little panicked, cut through the crowd and through his reverie.

“Over here Mama!” The girl cried, she smiled up at Antony, “thank you domine,” and, then she darted off again, in search of her mother.

Antony watched her go and then shook his head. He was being ridiculous. She was a pretty, green-eyed child. Surely she wasn’t the only one in Rome. Just because her eyes were the same as Portia’s… It was just his memory playing a trick on him.

Five years and she still haunted him. Five years and he still saw the ghost of her in the strangest places. Would he ever be free?

It had to be this business with Cassius, it made him think of her more often, and see reminders in places that they shouldn’t be. Once it was over, one he was victorious and the rebellion quashed once and forever, maybe he’d be able to leave the past where it belonged.

“Mama, that’s the man!”

The little voice distracted him and he turned to see the child again, this time holding a woman’s hand. Antony steeled himself before looking at the mother, half expecting to see Portia’s twin, but the woman, while lovely, looked nothing like his former lover. The child must have gotten her looks from her father.

“He saved my doll!” The little girl continued, chattering excitedly.

“That was very nice of him,” the woman said indulgently, brushing her daughter’s hair out of her eyes and then turning her attention to him, her eyes widened slightly as she recognized him, however, “Thank you for aiding Livia,” was all she said.

“It was no trouble,” Antony dismissed, his eyes lingered on the child for another moment and then he tore his gaze away and quickly moved on. After a moment, he looked back but the child was gone, having melted into the crowd.

Antony shook his head. It was nostalgia nothing more. It was making him see things that weren’t there and connections to people who were long gone.

He had enough to concern him within the present, he had no use for the past or for what might have been.

• End