Parts to Play

Parts to Play
By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.
Author’s Notes- This is a short Cassius piece that popped into my head after the last chapter. It is set in canon, not the tragedy verse, and takes place during Antony’s diamond scene. My MC Portia is seducing both Cassius and Antony, letting Cassius thinks she loves him while falling deeper into Antony’s spell and it makes for such an interesting dynamic. I also was inspired by how jealous Cassius got last chapter and this was the result.
Pairing- Cassius/MC, Marc Antony/MC
Rating- PG-13
Summary- Cassius watches the Vulcanalia parade and asks himself some hard questions about Portia.

Cassius stood in the crowded street just like had the day before, except this time he wasn’t trying to talk sense into the citizens of Rome. No, this time, he was joining them, waiting for the Vulcanalia parade.

He’d second-guessed the decision multiple times since that morning and yet, here he was anyway. It was a form of self-torture and yet some part of him needed to do this, needed to see Portia and Antony together.

He’d made the decision the night before when they’d parted ways after the fire. “Will you be participating in the parade?” He’d asked her, willing her to say no, that she was refusing to participate in Antony’s show of ego.

Instead, she’d averted her eyes. “He’s my patron,” she said finally, with a small shrug of apology. It was all she needed to say. Cassius had come to hate that word, patron, because it marked the reality of the situation, of who and what Portia was and he preferred to forget.

And maybe that was why he was here. Because he needed the reality check. But also because he wanted to see Portia with Antony, needed to reassure himself that Antony was just another patron to Portia, it wasn’t like what they had.

Cassius was distracted from his reverie by the sound of cheers around him. Antony’s wagon was drawing closer. Cassius let his gaze linger on Portia. She looked lovely, but then she always did. The fine silks and jewels suited her and she looked at home on the wagon, listening to the adoring cries of the crowd.

Cassius watched as she threw a handful of coin into the crowd, stiffening when Antony called out praise of Caesar, linking the dictator to Portia’s gesture. How dare he? Did he not know how Portia felt about Caesar and yet he dragged her into this show? Cassius was furious on Portia’s behalf, wishing he could draw her into his arms and take her away from this. When the parade was over, he’d find her and offer her comfort, he resolved.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed what happened next. After a brief pause, Portia threw more coins into the crowd. “Celebrate the bounty of Marc Antony!” She cried out, “Antony is too humble,” Cassius nearly choked at that. Antony humble, that was a new one. “The celebration comes not from Caesar, but from him!” Portia continued, her hands reaching for Antony, caressing his shoulder as she spoke, her gaze focused on him, not the crowd.

The crowd cheer Antony’s name, but Cassius barely heard it, his gaze focused on the show that was unfolding before him. The sight of Portia gazing up at Antony, of her touching him with familiarity as she sang his praises to all of Rome.

“His generosity feeds you while Caesar pursues glory in the east! Antony is the true first man of Rome!” Portia finished with a cry, inciting the crowd into frenzied cheers. And yet, Cassius was close enough to see that her attention wasn’t on them, no, it was Antony who held her attention. They were obviously speaking, but he was too far too hear, and yet their body language told a story all on its own.

Suddenly, Portia tossed her head back as if to draw the attention of the crowd to her, before pulling Antony into a passionate kiss. Cassius felt the bile rise in his throat as he watched. He tried to remind himself that Portia had a job to do and that he did not own her and her lips were her own. But it wasn’t really working. Besides, it wasn’t the kiss that bothered him so much, though he hated the idea of Antony’s lips on her. However, as much as he hated the idea of Antony touching her, he hated the look on Portia’s face as she drew Antony to her more.

“Look at them,” a woman next to him murmured, “the perfect couple and it’s obvious they are so in love.”

Cassius nodded roughly and then pushed his way through the crowd, unable to watch any more. The woman’s words echoed over and over in his head. “So in love.” Because that was what he too had seen on Portia’s face: the look of absolute adoration. More than that, he recognized that look, she was looking at Antony the way she looked at him. As if he was the only man in the world, the only man she could ever want. And for the first time, Cassius had to question the sincerity of that look. Was she faking it for Antony or for him?

A memory came to his mind unbidden. The night he and Portia had made love. The subject of Antony had come up and Portia had come to his defense, saying that Antony might be a better ruler than he, Cassius, thought.

“He may be a libertine, but he does believe in serving the common people,” Portia commented, a small smile playing over her beautiful lips. “His grudge is against the nobles and the Senate.”

Cassius gazed at her in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that you and Antony were so well acquainted.” He had suggested that she go to Antony to aid Syphax, but had it gone beyond that? Enough so that Portia spoke of him with such ease and was comfortable guessing his inner workings?”

“We have…spoken on occasion,” Portia evaded with a shrug of her beautiful shoulders, drawing Cassius’s attention back to her and away from Antony…

The memory troubled him. Not just the familiar way she had spoken of Antony, but also a detail he had blocked out at the time: the marks on her skin, marks obviously left by a lover. He’d forced himself not to ask, because he had no right to question her, but it had bothered him. Which patron had taken those liberties? Had felt the need to mark her delicate flesh? More importantly, who had she let touch her like that?

Now, the answer seemed obvious. The way Portia had spoken of Antony as if she knew him well, the familiar way she had kissed him, and Antony’s casual possessiveness… He’d called her his woman. Not his courtesan, or companion, his woman. As if he had some deeper claim on her.

And yet, Cassius refused to believe it. Just last night, Portia had sunk into his arms to receive his kiss, gazing up at him with wonder and adoration. He remembered the way she’d praised his convictions, telling him she loved him for it, words that had thrilled his soul, so close to the confession he wanted from her. How could that possibly be a lie?

She just doesn’t want to anger Antony. He told himself. Of course, she didn’t. Her friend and her father were both gladiators, their very lives full of danger and uncertainty. For their sake, Portia probably felt obligated to gain Marc Antony’s favour. She was just doing what she had to. Maybe, she was even using the memory of him, of them, to help her. Cassius smiled at that thought, though he hated the fact that she felt like she had to do that.

Besides, as he’d told Portia, soon it wouldn’t be an issue. Caesar would lose and Antony would be powerless once more, leaving Portia free. And then… Once the threat of Caesar had passed, once things had reset themselves, he would talk to Portia… He would offer his protection and his sole patronage.

He would take care of her, take her away from this life, so she never had to pretend again.

• End