And We All Fall Down (The Tragedy of Julius Caesar; Caesar/Antonius, Cassius/Titinius, Brutus/Cassiu
And We All Fall Down
The Tragedy of Julius Caesar; Caesar/Antonius, Cassius/Titinius, Brutus/Cassius, Brutus/Caesar
R; 5300 words
People do stupid things for love, and in the end, they destroy themselves.
Belated birthday present for gutterqueen. I hope you enjoy this!
i. his shining star
You loved him. You still do even though he's long dead now. You know you shouldn't have ever fallen in love with him because he's always loved someone else, but you couldn't help it. You've never been able to help anything when it came to him.
You've known him ever since you were just a mere boy, a new recruit in the army. Everyone knew him because he fought and ate and slept (not that way) with the troops even though he could have enjoyed luxury due to his high post of command, and he knew every single soldier by name if nothing else.
He kept you close to his side ever since he first saw you because you were a bright boy who was quick to learn, and he told you that you would be his perfect heir. And you, in turn, worshipped him, regaled him almost as if he were a god. He was one to you, anyway.
Over time, you couldn't help but fall in love with him. You were constantly with him, and you know everything possible about him. You know he always wore the same white tunic when he spoke in front of the troops, you know how his muscles rippled when he stretched, and you know how he always made a whimpermoan right before he climaxed.
He never loved you like that, like the way you loved him, but he probably did love you more than he should have. He brought you to manhood in the form of an erastes-eromenos relationship, as those Achaeans called it, teaching you the ways of the world by day and giving you the pleasures of the flesh by night, and you know that he wouldn't have fucked you if he didn't love you in that weird place halfway between familial and romantic love even though you were his heir.
You were young, desirable, and pleasing in just about any aspect you can think of, but you weren't him. You could never compete with Brutus, anyway, because Brutus and Caesar had known each other since forever, and you hated Brutus even then because he had the thing you wanted, still want-Caesar's love.
Really, you wouldn't even have suspected anything until you discovered that Marcus Brutus had been pardoned completely even though he fought against Caesar, and when you went to Caesar's house that night to ask him why, he wouldn't tell you. And when you wrapped yourself around him and pressed your lips against his jaw, he pushed you away and told you no, and you left hurt and confused but sure that it had something to do with Brutus.
Two weeks later, you walked in on them, Caesar's lips upon Marcus Brutus's no longer prime and lean body, Brutus with his hands in Caesar's starting-to-gray hair. You are sure that they didn't look anything different from you and Caesar, but somehow, you saw something different in Caesar's touch, something more savoring and lingering, heard something different in the noise he made when Brutus slid his mouth over Caesar's cock, something more passionate and breathless. You let out a silent choke of despair before running away, against all of Caesar's training, and they never knew. Caesar did train you to be his heir, after all.
You were and still are in your prime, beautiful and golden, and so many wanted and still want you, more for your body and renowned reputation than your power. You know that if you had been born at the same time as Brutus, had been in the army with both of them, Caesar would have chosen you. How could he not choose you, so golden and lovely and almost wanton with how much you want to please him, how much you just plain want him? You can't imagine that Brutus could be as eager as you, can't imagine that he would be as willing as you. But the Fates determined that you wouldn't be that lucky, and you could only take what you can.
Caesar never touched you if he was near Brutus, not until the very end, anyway, but when the two of you were battling, away from Rome, he came to you every night, buried himself in you and whispered words of love into your ear, and you knew you shouldn't, but you often hoped that victory would elude Caesar for another little while so you could have him for that much longer before he left you again for Brutus.
Caesar had many affairs, and both you and Brutus knew that. Everyone knew that. You don't think either of you cared, though, (at least, you didn't), because both of you knew that Caesar only had room in his heart for the two of you (How could Brutus not know about you and him?), which redeemed everything for the two of you (Brutus must have known that Caesar only loved him).
You might have hated Brutus then, but you still tolerated him, treated him civilly during Senate meetings and chatted with him at parties. After all, Caesar loved him and he loved Caesar, and you could tolerate anything and anyone who made Caesar happy even if it wasn't you because all that mattered was his welfare, not yours.
You didn't expect it, and you know for sure that Caesar didn't, either. How could he (or you) possibly expect the person he loved to betray him? You might have tolerated Brutus for his sake, but you stopped that day because Caesar died at Brutus's hand, and the person who killed the man you love deserves nothing less than your hate.
You resolved to avenge Caesar, and Brutus was stupid enough to let you speak your funeral oration after him, stupid enough to actually go home. You aren't like him; you don't live for honor. You live for love, for Caesar. You knew exactly how to turn the crowd in your favor, and when you had finished, they were thirsty for Brutus and his fellow conspirators' blood. You had manipulated them into doing your dirty work.
Of course he wouldn't last. With you and Octavius at Cassius's and his heels (Oh, you knew all about them [Who didn't?], and you couldn't believe that Brutus, who professed to love Caesar, would add insult to death), he couldn't escape very far, especially not after Cassius's foolish pseudo-suicide.
You only regret not being able to kill Brutus yourself. You might have praised him for his ideals (Not like they did him any good or that you believed him, but the notion of it was noble, and praise was the only right thing to do), but you will always hate him for taking away the man you love in order to preserve his honor.
He might have been Caesar's angel, the one Caesar loved the most, but you were Caesar's beloved, and you will never forget that Caesar came to you that night, the night before his assassination, instead of to Brutus.
ii. the one he loved
I have always loved him. We have been friends since we were naught but children, and I have never left his side. Therefore, I know him best, and I am one of the few who knows the truth of whom he loved.
Caius Cassius is not the jealous traitor and coward Antonius makes him out to be, even though the plebeians may believe his propaganda and will say it so in stories in the future. He is not cold-hearted and selfish-I should and do know. He is a Roman like any other, but I don’t think any Roman has ever loved as fiercely as he did. He might have slept with Brutus, but he always loved me.
It's not hard to fall in love with someone you've known practically since birth. Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, they all began when they were barely past childhood. After years of friendship, it's only too natural for friendly kisses upon smooth cheeks to become lingering kisses laid over soft, wanting, greedy lips. After all, fierce, childish, platonic love can only turn into a consuming, passionate, needy love with the passing of time. It did for us, anyway.
We fit together perfectly. We've both been with others (Who hasn't?), but no one else has felt as natural to either of us as the other. It's like the Fates destined us for each other, and if they did, then our end really isn't that surprising, is it?
Cassius did not like to be under the command of someone as ambitious as Caesar, someone who executed tribunes for removing wreaths off of his statues. Cassius was never one who would let another rule his life so rigidly, never one to supplicate himself completely to another's whim. Antonius lies. Jealousy did not cause the conspiracy; Caesar's own vices did.
Of course, Antonius can't see it. Everyone knows that Caesar wanted him as his heir, and the stories about him and Caesar that began as fireside statements of derision and bitterness are practically accepted as mundane truth now. If they indeed are true, then how can Antonius see beyond his own vision if Caesar gave him that vision?
I've heard the rumors about Cassius and Brutus as well. I can't deny them, no matter how much I want to, but none of them ever notices or mentions me, the one who really matters. It doesn't offend me, though, as I'm not one who likes to have his name whispered among the plebeians during idle hours, but it amuses me in a most peculiar way that they will never know that Cassius was mine, never Brutus's.
Though Cassius went to Brutus to seek his help in assassinating Caesar, Cassius never offered his body as a bribe. He's better than that, better than a whore. Brutus began it, and Cassius told me later, in bed, that he suspected it was because Caesar had chosen Antonius over Brutus. Brutus needed someone to fill the void Caesar left in him, and Cassius willingly gave himself in order to ensure Brutus's help. I can only imagine the dent Caesar's choice made in Brutus's honor, his most sacred ideal.
Brutus still says he killed Caesar in order to save the Republic, but I suspect he wouldn't have joined Cassius if he had not thought that Caesar betrayed him. Brutus did it for revenge as much as anything else. Cassius knew just as well as I do. Why else would he have been so harsh to Cassius when he accused him of accepting bribes so many months ago? Brutus was bitter, is bitter, that the man he loves is dead by his own hand, and he blames it all on Cassius because he doesn't want to accept that his own jealousy spurred him to assassinate his lover, because he wants to believe in the illusion that he did everything for honor, being the noble man he is. He might have slept with Cassius, but he loves Caesar the same way I love Cassius.
How wronged Cassius had been. Cassius barely had enough money to pay our legions (As if anyone would risk Antonius's wrath in order to help us and our faulty ideals), much less give to Brutus. We never took more than anyone could afford; Cassius was fair, despite what others think and say of him.
And if Brutus had listened to the man I love every time, we wouldn't have fallen to this stage. Antonius would not be a threat, and neither would Octavius. But Brutus has always been too pompous, too sure of himself because his placement of honor above all else makes him think that he is always correct, and though we used to be acquaintances of sorts, I loathe him dearly now. He is the reason for all the troubles we have encountered. He is the reason why I'm here.
I suspect Brutus will regret his actions when he learns of Cassius's death, even if only subconsciously, because Brutus cannot win without the military brilliance of Cassius. Brutus is a man of ideas and words, not a man of war like Cassius was, even though he has served in the military longer and has more experience than Cassius. War is born of innate talent; it cannot be tempered by learned skill alone.
Brutus deserves everything that will happen to him. He is at fault for Cassius's death, and his own death will be long deserved. I can only hope Antonius kills him slowly and painfully so he suffers for Cassius and me as well as for Caesar.
I've already laid my garland on Cassius, and I hold his sword now. His blood still smears the blade, and I know what I have to do. My blood will merge with his one last time, like it has done many times before.
They may tell tales long after about Brutus and Cassius, but it won't matter. We know the truth, that he loved me and I him, and that's what really matters. Cassius was never Brutus's; he was mine.
iii. all his fault
You know Antonius won't let you live. If you were him, you wouldn't let yourself live, either. After all, you killed the man he loves, both of you love, and you supposed you probably deserve whatever will become of you, as the Fates ordain. You won't just surrender, though, because you are human, and you won't be an easy target for anyone, especially not for the lover of your lover.
You loved Caesar. You still love him, even though he died at your hand. No one will ever know; you doubt that even Caesar knew how much you felt for him, or else he wouldn't have chosen Antonius over you. And no one will ever know how much of you died when he died. You are a Stoic, after all.
But no matter how Stoic you are, you are still human. You can't help but be jealous of Antonius. Oh, you are sure he never touched Antonius when he was with you, well, maybe not until the last few months, anyway, when he stopped coming to you, but you know that he would have needed someone while he was away fighting, given his penchant for affairs. And when you first saw Antonius, you just knew that he was Caesar's chosen. How can your lover not resist someone like Antonius, young and golden and beautiful, things you no longer are?
You know that he loved you, though. After all, the two of you had known each other since childhood, and what started as an experiment of sorts, a one-time thing, became the two of you. You don't think anything could have stopped the two of you from falling in love, not even if Antonius had been alive at that time.
But you were never as militant as Caesar. If only you had been, then Caesar might never have had to turn to Antonius, at least not for sexual pleasure because you would have been with him. You won't deny what Caesar saw in Antonius to make him his heir, but really, how can you not be jealous of someone much more handsome than you who was by Caesar's side day and night, someone whose very lips spoke of wantonness, of almost lewd willingness in wrapping his mouth around Caesar's cock?
You were an idealistic fool. Even though you loved Caesar, you didn't want him to become the emperor because it would make his ego unbearable and blind him, so when you saw those letters from the plebeians, you joined Cassius, believing it was the right thing to do to save Rome by killing the man you love. Your own jealousy made you stupid, and you idiotically decided that Antonius was no threat in your own arrogance and idealism even when you knew Caesar wouldn't have chosen him as his heir for nothing.
You made too many mistakes when you allowed your jealousy to control you. Your anger at Caesar for coming to you less and less often and finally stopping caused you to turn to Cassius, who didn't say no because he needed your help. You were never gentle with him; you blamed and still blame him for putting the idea of killing Caesar in your head and exacerbating your jealousy with well-placed comments that caused your senses to fail and blinded your logic. How could Caesar choose Antonius over you? You don't doubt that he loved Antonius; how could he not love his heir? But you know that you were the only one he loved in that way; perhaps he had just been busy with preparations for becoming emperor.
Even so, you don't doubt that you may have killed him for the public good. You are a man of honor, after all, and you know that Caesar would never have listened to anyone about not becoming emperor, not even you. But you wouldn't have done it so brutally; you wouldn't have crushed him. You did kill Caesar for honor, but had it not been for Cassius, you wouldn't have broken his heart, and thus, Cassius is to blame for the cold-hearted death of Caesar.
What you did didn't really sink in until you were running for your life with Cassius and a few mutual friends, and you shouldn't have accused Cassius that night and let your anger and frustration at everything get the better of you because you are a Stoic, and he was your ally even though everything is his fault. By the time you learned of Portia's death, it no longer mattered; you had become too numb to care because you finally realized that you are the one who dealt your love the final blow, you are the one who truly killed him.
Now, you wish that things had gone differently. You wish that Cassius had not died because you just don't have the skills to fight Antonius, who was hand-trained by Caesar, especially not without help, and you know your death is near. You especially wish that you had never been foolish enough to let Cassius's idea sink into your head and thus cause you to kill the man you loved because that's what started everything, isn't it?
You've seen his ghost twice, and he has told you himself that your end is near. You know he won't forgive you. You haven't forgiven yourself, either. You don't even understand why you are still fighting for your life at times; you don't have any reason to continue living, and you certainly don't deserve to continue living, either. But perhaps you are too scared to see Caesar again, too ashamed to face your lover again after killing him.
You supposed that Antonius's actions are justified. After all, he deserves to be called Caesar's love and lover more than you do for what he is doing, yet you continue to call yourself titles you no longer deserve because you can't let go, though you know a man doesn't kill his love and stay worthy of being called his lover's loved.
Statilius has been slain, and you know you will die soon. You won't give Antonius the satisfaction of killing you, however. You still have too much pride and honor to fall to such depths. You will die with dignity. Maybe then, you'll be worthy of seeing Caesar again in the Underworld.
iv. everything for him
Brutus should have listened to me. I shouldn't have let him overrule me just because he's older and should have more experience because really, I know he doesn't. I know he is only a fool. After all, he was blinded by his own jealousy when he killed his lover. He may say he is a man of honor, but no honorable man kills his love in a fit of envy and rage.
I saw the right opportunity and seized it. I noticed that Caesar had been visiting Brutus less and less, and that was when I told Brutus about my plan, when his bitterness was just setting in. Oh, I don't doubt that Brutus really didn't support Caesar, but he would never have gone to such extreme measures if the jealousy he holds for Antonius didn't spur him on to join me along with the letters I forged to farther convince him.
I needed his help, yes, but I never offered him my body. I am not a whore; I don't look like Antonius, with his wanton eagerness to please Caesar. When he joined the conspiracy, he took me as his own when he had no right to do so because I already belonged to another, yet he believed he had the authority to because he was the most honorable of us all and therefore the most right, the one in charge, the one who could give us orders and do anything he wanted with us, and he poured his bitterness into everything he did to me because he blamed everything on me when it was his own fault. I only endured it because I needed his help and because I knew Titinius would be waiting for me afterward.
I never loved Brutus. How can I possibly love someone like him? If anything, I despise him for being a hypocrite. He says he killed Caesar for honor, but his harshness with me tells me he lies. He says he wants to stop Caesar from becoming emperor, yet he assumes authority as soon as he joins the conspiracy. If I hadn't needed his closeness to Caesar (Though Antonius is closer, he loves Caesar too much to be corrupted), then I would never have asked for his help.
How could he think, in his arrogance, that Antonius is no threat? Antonius is Caesar's heir, hand-trained by the man himself! How could Brutus dismiss him so easily even when I urged him to kill Antonius as well? He knows himself that Antonius loves Caesar fiercely, that his devotion to Caesar is almost dirty in the fact that he will do anything and everything for Caesar, even let Caesar fuck him raw in front of the whole Senate if Caesar told him he wanted it. Look at us now, pursued by Antonius and Octavius, fighting to stay alive.
When the conspiracy fell apart, I had no choice but to turn to Brutus. Not many are fond of me because Caesar always disliked me, saying that I was dangerous because I think too much, but Brutus was well-liked by most for his supposed honor, and I needed his reputation to keep both myself and Titinius alive.
I knew what I was entering into when I went with Brutus. I know that he won't stop fucking me because he blames me for Caesar's death, know that he takes sadistic pleasure in hurting me, but I was prepared to endure the injustice if it ensured Titinius's and my survival. I even withstood his unfounded accusations that I was accepting bribes and, in the process, revealed to him that I'm not brainless-I know he still loves Caesar. I broke his mask that day, and I know that Caesar will always be a sore spot for him. Of course it will; he killed the man himself.
Brutus is of little regard to me, really. I care not whether he lives or dies, whether he bleeds or chokes, whether he commits suicide or is slain by Antonius. The only man whom I have ever loved is Titinius, and I know I will never love another. Titinius has been by my side ever since I was but a small boy, and I can't imagine life without him.
I suppose what he and I feel for each other can be compared to the ardent love Antonius holds for Caesar, and though I won't surrender myself just to satisfy the bloodlust of a broken lover, I can understand him and perhaps even sympathize with him. I would do the same if it comes to Titinius.
Brutus's love with Caesar must not have been very strong at all, much less as strong as Titinus's and mine. If it had, he would not have become so jealous so easily. He would have seen no reason to envy Antonius. But because he did, no matter how much he may love Caesar, it is not pure, trusting love, and he can only blame himself for not loving Caesar enough.
Brutus is a fool. His own stupidity has led me as well as him to a last stand with Antonius and Octavius, and he knows nothing of fighting, at least not to my extent, even though he has been a part of the army longer than I have. He doesn't realize it, but he needs my military genius as much as I need his reputation. He thinks he's a better man than me because he killed Caesar for noble reasons and thus, uses me, but in truth, I am better than him. At least I acknowledge my own vices instead of refusing to look at them and putting the blame upon someone else.
I know I shouldn't have sent Titinius to assess the condition of my camp, especially when I knew that Antonius had most likely seized my tents. I should have sent Pindarus instead; after all, he is worth nothing. I can't afford to lose Titinius, but what is done is done.
Titinius is surely gone now, and with my love dead, I have no more reason to continue living. I did everything for him, and now, he has no more need for my sacrifices except the last one I can give him.
I am ready to spend the rest of eternity with him.
v. love him more
You shouldn't, but you love them both, and you know that you can only love one of them enough, love one of them the way he wants to be loved, the way he deserves to be loved. And this night, you will finally choose.
It's not easy. How can it be? You have known Brutus since the two of you were merely children, and you have been lovers with him for not much shorter. He has been your heart for so much of your life that it's hard to image him out of such a prominent position, and you can scarcely envision what you would have done without him so many times in the past.
Maybe he did fight against you, but you know him well. He doesn't want you to become emperor because he loves the Republic, same as all Romans. Always the honorable one is Brutus, and that's partially why you fell in love with him in the first place. He places honor above all else, and you have often wished that you could have done the same for him because he deserves that, he deserves the one thing that he holds above all else.
But you couldn't. You were away from him constantly, fighting for your country, and you needed someone during those long, lonely nights. Maybe your body wasn't loyal to him, but your heart had always been his and his alone. Only he made you feel true release. Only he gave you utopia.
Then, you met Antonius. He was only a boy at the time, but even then, he was beautiful, slim and golden with wits to match. When you saw him, you knew he would be your perfect heir before anything else, and you immediately took him under your wing.
It took almost everything you had to keep yourself from taking him, and in the end, you couldn't resist him. He didn't resist you. He all but welcomed it in the way his legs spread for you wantonly, the way he sucked your cock that all but screamed sin, and you couldn't stay away from him after the first time.
How can Brutus not suspect anything when he first saw Antonius? He knows you, perhaps much too well, and he knows that you can't resist someone like Antonius, all beautiful and golden and willing, whose very appearance told of his all but vulgar desire to please you. But you never went to anyone else when you were near Brutus because you love Brutus. You love Antonius, yes, but you only loved Brutus.
Yet you are constantly with Antonius, and thought you had the vaguest inkling that you shouldn't, you no longer had the will to restrain yourself from him ever since you first took him, his muscular legs wrapped around your waist promiscuously, himself laying in an almost obscene way in his openness and beauty, his cock hard and in need of release. You never deviate from either of them, though, unless both of them are not present when you need someone, and only then do you turn to someone else, some lowly person (How can anyone compare to Brutus and Antonius?) who is much too eager to give you pleasure in the hope of receiving a shred of power from you. People like that should know better.
You didn't want to think about it, but you knew you would have to choose one of them eventually. After all, you had started thinking about Antonius's golden skin and smooth muscles and perfect mouth when you were with Brutus, and that was unacceptable, not to mention unfair to the both of them.
You had no choice but to visit him less and less. Both of them, really, because you couldn't allow Antonius and his pretty lithe eager body to distract you while you make what is probably the most important decision in your life, at least to you. You had to choose of your own accord the one you love more. Your love for Antonius had grown with his peerless regard for you and the constant time you spent in his company, yet Brutus is the man you loved first and the man you thought you would always love the most. Both of them have valid claims on you; both of them love you, and you love both of them as well.
You really can't let either of them go, don't want to let either of them go. You have been so used to having both of them that you aren't sure what will happen when you choose one of them, but you know you have to because you can't have the two of them always wonder whether you really love him, whether you are really with him when you sleep with him. You can't have the two of them always talking to each other awkwardly and with the utmost care, afraid to touch upon a sensitive topic regarding you, can't have them always wondering what it's like when you're with the other, whether you moan more or fuck him harder or want him more or love him more. You have to make one final decision, satisfy the person you love more, or is it really the person you love the most?
You have thought for several months now, thought and pondered and thought some more. You love them both, you know that, but you can only choose one of them. And you think that you are finally ready to make your decision.
You are certain that you will break someone's heart tonight, that you might very possibly break your own heart or, at least, a part of it, tonight, but you also know that you can't always make the both of them suffer, always make the both of them grudgingly tolerate the fact that you are with someone else as well. You know that not choosing is unfair to both of them, yet choosing is still unfair to one of them.
You can only hope you make the right choice.
04.04.07
The Tragedy of Julius Caesar; Caesar/Antonius, Cassius/Titinius, Brutus/Cassius, Brutus/Caesar
R; 5300 words
People do stupid things for love, and in the end, they destroy themselves.
Belated birthday present for gutterqueen. I hope you enjoy this!
i. his shining star
You loved him. You still do even though he's long dead now. You know you shouldn't have ever fallen in love with him because he's always loved someone else, but you couldn't help it. You've never been able to help anything when it came to him.
You've known him ever since you were just a mere boy, a new recruit in the army. Everyone knew him because he fought and ate and slept (not that way) with the troops even though he could have enjoyed luxury due to his high post of command, and he knew every single soldier by name if nothing else.
He kept you close to his side ever since he first saw you because you were a bright boy who was quick to learn, and he told you that you would be his perfect heir. And you, in turn, worshipped him, regaled him almost as if he were a god. He was one to you, anyway.
Over time, you couldn't help but fall in love with him. You were constantly with him, and you know everything possible about him. You know he always wore the same white tunic when he spoke in front of the troops, you know how his muscles rippled when he stretched, and you know how he always made a whimpermoan right before he climaxed.
He never loved you like that, like the way you loved him, but he probably did love you more than he should have. He brought you to manhood in the form of an erastes-eromenos relationship, as those Achaeans called it, teaching you the ways of the world by day and giving you the pleasures of the flesh by night, and you know that he wouldn't have fucked you if he didn't love you in that weird place halfway between familial and romantic love even though you were his heir.
You were young, desirable, and pleasing in just about any aspect you can think of, but you weren't him. You could never compete with Brutus, anyway, because Brutus and Caesar had known each other since forever, and you hated Brutus even then because he had the thing you wanted, still want-Caesar's love.
Really, you wouldn't even have suspected anything until you discovered that Marcus Brutus had been pardoned completely even though he fought against Caesar, and when you went to Caesar's house that night to ask him why, he wouldn't tell you. And when you wrapped yourself around him and pressed your lips against his jaw, he pushed you away and told you no, and you left hurt and confused but sure that it had something to do with Brutus.
Two weeks later, you walked in on them, Caesar's lips upon Marcus Brutus's no longer prime and lean body, Brutus with his hands in Caesar's starting-to-gray hair. You are sure that they didn't look anything different from you and Caesar, but somehow, you saw something different in Caesar's touch, something more savoring and lingering, heard something different in the noise he made when Brutus slid his mouth over Caesar's cock, something more passionate and breathless. You let out a silent choke of despair before running away, against all of Caesar's training, and they never knew. Caesar did train you to be his heir, after all.
You were and still are in your prime, beautiful and golden, and so many wanted and still want you, more for your body and renowned reputation than your power. You know that if you had been born at the same time as Brutus, had been in the army with both of them, Caesar would have chosen you. How could he not choose you, so golden and lovely and almost wanton with how much you want to please him, how much you just plain want him? You can't imagine that Brutus could be as eager as you, can't imagine that he would be as willing as you. But the Fates determined that you wouldn't be that lucky, and you could only take what you can.
Caesar never touched you if he was near Brutus, not until the very end, anyway, but when the two of you were battling, away from Rome, he came to you every night, buried himself in you and whispered words of love into your ear, and you knew you shouldn't, but you often hoped that victory would elude Caesar for another little while so you could have him for that much longer before he left you again for Brutus.
Caesar had many affairs, and both you and Brutus knew that. Everyone knew that. You don't think either of you cared, though, (at least, you didn't), because both of you knew that Caesar only had room in his heart for the two of you (How could Brutus not know about you and him?), which redeemed everything for the two of you (Brutus must have known that Caesar only loved him).
You might have hated Brutus then, but you still tolerated him, treated him civilly during Senate meetings and chatted with him at parties. After all, Caesar loved him and he loved Caesar, and you could tolerate anything and anyone who made Caesar happy even if it wasn't you because all that mattered was his welfare, not yours.
You didn't expect it, and you know for sure that Caesar didn't, either. How could he (or you) possibly expect the person he loved to betray him? You might have tolerated Brutus for his sake, but you stopped that day because Caesar died at Brutus's hand, and the person who killed the man you love deserves nothing less than your hate.
You resolved to avenge Caesar, and Brutus was stupid enough to let you speak your funeral oration after him, stupid enough to actually go home. You aren't like him; you don't live for honor. You live for love, for Caesar. You knew exactly how to turn the crowd in your favor, and when you had finished, they were thirsty for Brutus and his fellow conspirators' blood. You had manipulated them into doing your dirty work.
Of course he wouldn't last. With you and Octavius at Cassius's and his heels (Oh, you knew all about them [Who didn't?], and you couldn't believe that Brutus, who professed to love Caesar, would add insult to death), he couldn't escape very far, especially not after Cassius's foolish pseudo-suicide.
You only regret not being able to kill Brutus yourself. You might have praised him for his ideals (Not like they did him any good or that you believed him, but the notion of it was noble, and praise was the only right thing to do), but you will always hate him for taking away the man you love in order to preserve his honor.
He might have been Caesar's angel, the one Caesar loved the most, but you were Caesar's beloved, and you will never forget that Caesar came to you that night, the night before his assassination, instead of to Brutus.
ii. the one he loved
I have always loved him. We have been friends since we were naught but children, and I have never left his side. Therefore, I know him best, and I am one of the few who knows the truth of whom he loved.
Caius Cassius is not the jealous traitor and coward Antonius makes him out to be, even though the plebeians may believe his propaganda and will say it so in stories in the future. He is not cold-hearted and selfish-I should and do know. He is a Roman like any other, but I don’t think any Roman has ever loved as fiercely as he did. He might have slept with Brutus, but he always loved me.
It's not hard to fall in love with someone you've known practically since birth. Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion, they all began when they were barely past childhood. After years of friendship, it's only too natural for friendly kisses upon smooth cheeks to become lingering kisses laid over soft, wanting, greedy lips. After all, fierce, childish, platonic love can only turn into a consuming, passionate, needy love with the passing of time. It did for us, anyway.
We fit together perfectly. We've both been with others (Who hasn't?), but no one else has felt as natural to either of us as the other. It's like the Fates destined us for each other, and if they did, then our end really isn't that surprising, is it?
Cassius did not like to be under the command of someone as ambitious as Caesar, someone who executed tribunes for removing wreaths off of his statues. Cassius was never one who would let another rule his life so rigidly, never one to supplicate himself completely to another's whim. Antonius lies. Jealousy did not cause the conspiracy; Caesar's own vices did.
Of course, Antonius can't see it. Everyone knows that Caesar wanted him as his heir, and the stories about him and Caesar that began as fireside statements of derision and bitterness are practically accepted as mundane truth now. If they indeed are true, then how can Antonius see beyond his own vision if Caesar gave him that vision?
I've heard the rumors about Cassius and Brutus as well. I can't deny them, no matter how much I want to, but none of them ever notices or mentions me, the one who really matters. It doesn't offend me, though, as I'm not one who likes to have his name whispered among the plebeians during idle hours, but it amuses me in a most peculiar way that they will never know that Cassius was mine, never Brutus's.
Though Cassius went to Brutus to seek his help in assassinating Caesar, Cassius never offered his body as a bribe. He's better than that, better than a whore. Brutus began it, and Cassius told me later, in bed, that he suspected it was because Caesar had chosen Antonius over Brutus. Brutus needed someone to fill the void Caesar left in him, and Cassius willingly gave himself in order to ensure Brutus's help. I can only imagine the dent Caesar's choice made in Brutus's honor, his most sacred ideal.
Brutus still says he killed Caesar in order to save the Republic, but I suspect he wouldn't have joined Cassius if he had not thought that Caesar betrayed him. Brutus did it for revenge as much as anything else. Cassius knew just as well as I do. Why else would he have been so harsh to Cassius when he accused him of accepting bribes so many months ago? Brutus was bitter, is bitter, that the man he loves is dead by his own hand, and he blames it all on Cassius because he doesn't want to accept that his own jealousy spurred him to assassinate his lover, because he wants to believe in the illusion that he did everything for honor, being the noble man he is. He might have slept with Cassius, but he loves Caesar the same way I love Cassius.
How wronged Cassius had been. Cassius barely had enough money to pay our legions (As if anyone would risk Antonius's wrath in order to help us and our faulty ideals), much less give to Brutus. We never took more than anyone could afford; Cassius was fair, despite what others think and say of him.
And if Brutus had listened to the man I love every time, we wouldn't have fallen to this stage. Antonius would not be a threat, and neither would Octavius. But Brutus has always been too pompous, too sure of himself because his placement of honor above all else makes him think that he is always correct, and though we used to be acquaintances of sorts, I loathe him dearly now. He is the reason for all the troubles we have encountered. He is the reason why I'm here.
I suspect Brutus will regret his actions when he learns of Cassius's death, even if only subconsciously, because Brutus cannot win without the military brilliance of Cassius. Brutus is a man of ideas and words, not a man of war like Cassius was, even though he has served in the military longer and has more experience than Cassius. War is born of innate talent; it cannot be tempered by learned skill alone.
Brutus deserves everything that will happen to him. He is at fault for Cassius's death, and his own death will be long deserved. I can only hope Antonius kills him slowly and painfully so he suffers for Cassius and me as well as for Caesar.
I've already laid my garland on Cassius, and I hold his sword now. His blood still smears the blade, and I know what I have to do. My blood will merge with his one last time, like it has done many times before.
They may tell tales long after about Brutus and Cassius, but it won't matter. We know the truth, that he loved me and I him, and that's what really matters. Cassius was never Brutus's; he was mine.
iii. all his fault
You know Antonius won't let you live. If you were him, you wouldn't let yourself live, either. After all, you killed the man he loves, both of you love, and you supposed you probably deserve whatever will become of you, as the Fates ordain. You won't just surrender, though, because you are human, and you won't be an easy target for anyone, especially not for the lover of your lover.
You loved Caesar. You still love him, even though he died at your hand. No one will ever know; you doubt that even Caesar knew how much you felt for him, or else he wouldn't have chosen Antonius over you. And no one will ever know how much of you died when he died. You are a Stoic, after all.
But no matter how Stoic you are, you are still human. You can't help but be jealous of Antonius. Oh, you are sure he never touched Antonius when he was with you, well, maybe not until the last few months, anyway, when he stopped coming to you, but you know that he would have needed someone while he was away fighting, given his penchant for affairs. And when you first saw Antonius, you just knew that he was Caesar's chosen. How can your lover not resist someone like Antonius, young and golden and beautiful, things you no longer are?
You know that he loved you, though. After all, the two of you had known each other since childhood, and what started as an experiment of sorts, a one-time thing, became the two of you. You don't think anything could have stopped the two of you from falling in love, not even if Antonius had been alive at that time.
But you were never as militant as Caesar. If only you had been, then Caesar might never have had to turn to Antonius, at least not for sexual pleasure because you would have been with him. You won't deny what Caesar saw in Antonius to make him his heir, but really, how can you not be jealous of someone much more handsome than you who was by Caesar's side day and night, someone whose very lips spoke of wantonness, of almost lewd willingness in wrapping his mouth around Caesar's cock?
You were an idealistic fool. Even though you loved Caesar, you didn't want him to become the emperor because it would make his ego unbearable and blind him, so when you saw those letters from the plebeians, you joined Cassius, believing it was the right thing to do to save Rome by killing the man you love. Your own jealousy made you stupid, and you idiotically decided that Antonius was no threat in your own arrogance and idealism even when you knew Caesar wouldn't have chosen him as his heir for nothing.
You made too many mistakes when you allowed your jealousy to control you. Your anger at Caesar for coming to you less and less often and finally stopping caused you to turn to Cassius, who didn't say no because he needed your help. You were never gentle with him; you blamed and still blame him for putting the idea of killing Caesar in your head and exacerbating your jealousy with well-placed comments that caused your senses to fail and blinded your logic. How could Caesar choose Antonius over you? You don't doubt that he loved Antonius; how could he not love his heir? But you know that you were the only one he loved in that way; perhaps he had just been busy with preparations for becoming emperor.
Even so, you don't doubt that you may have killed him for the public good. You are a man of honor, after all, and you know that Caesar would never have listened to anyone about not becoming emperor, not even you. But you wouldn't have done it so brutally; you wouldn't have crushed him. You did kill Caesar for honor, but had it not been for Cassius, you wouldn't have broken his heart, and thus, Cassius is to blame for the cold-hearted death of Caesar.
What you did didn't really sink in until you were running for your life with Cassius and a few mutual friends, and you shouldn't have accused Cassius that night and let your anger and frustration at everything get the better of you because you are a Stoic, and he was your ally even though everything is his fault. By the time you learned of Portia's death, it no longer mattered; you had become too numb to care because you finally realized that you are the one who dealt your love the final blow, you are the one who truly killed him.
Now, you wish that things had gone differently. You wish that Cassius had not died because you just don't have the skills to fight Antonius, who was hand-trained by Caesar, especially not without help, and you know your death is near. You especially wish that you had never been foolish enough to let Cassius's idea sink into your head and thus cause you to kill the man you loved because that's what started everything, isn't it?
You've seen his ghost twice, and he has told you himself that your end is near. You know he won't forgive you. You haven't forgiven yourself, either. You don't even understand why you are still fighting for your life at times; you don't have any reason to continue living, and you certainly don't deserve to continue living, either. But perhaps you are too scared to see Caesar again, too ashamed to face your lover again after killing him.
You supposed that Antonius's actions are justified. After all, he deserves to be called Caesar's love and lover more than you do for what he is doing, yet you continue to call yourself titles you no longer deserve because you can't let go, though you know a man doesn't kill his love and stay worthy of being called his lover's loved.
Statilius has been slain, and you know you will die soon. You won't give Antonius the satisfaction of killing you, however. You still have too much pride and honor to fall to such depths. You will die with dignity. Maybe then, you'll be worthy of seeing Caesar again in the Underworld.
iv. everything for him
Brutus should have listened to me. I shouldn't have let him overrule me just because he's older and should have more experience because really, I know he doesn't. I know he is only a fool. After all, he was blinded by his own jealousy when he killed his lover. He may say he is a man of honor, but no honorable man kills his love in a fit of envy and rage.
I saw the right opportunity and seized it. I noticed that Caesar had been visiting Brutus less and less, and that was when I told Brutus about my plan, when his bitterness was just setting in. Oh, I don't doubt that Brutus really didn't support Caesar, but he would never have gone to such extreme measures if the jealousy he holds for Antonius didn't spur him on to join me along with the letters I forged to farther convince him.
I needed his help, yes, but I never offered him my body. I am not a whore; I don't look like Antonius, with his wanton eagerness to please Caesar. When he joined the conspiracy, he took me as his own when he had no right to do so because I already belonged to another, yet he believed he had the authority to because he was the most honorable of us all and therefore the most right, the one in charge, the one who could give us orders and do anything he wanted with us, and he poured his bitterness into everything he did to me because he blamed everything on me when it was his own fault. I only endured it because I needed his help and because I knew Titinius would be waiting for me afterward.
I never loved Brutus. How can I possibly love someone like him? If anything, I despise him for being a hypocrite. He says he killed Caesar for honor, but his harshness with me tells me he lies. He says he wants to stop Caesar from becoming emperor, yet he assumes authority as soon as he joins the conspiracy. If I hadn't needed his closeness to Caesar (Though Antonius is closer, he loves Caesar too much to be corrupted), then I would never have asked for his help.
How could he think, in his arrogance, that Antonius is no threat? Antonius is Caesar's heir, hand-trained by the man himself! How could Brutus dismiss him so easily even when I urged him to kill Antonius as well? He knows himself that Antonius loves Caesar fiercely, that his devotion to Caesar is almost dirty in the fact that he will do anything and everything for Caesar, even let Caesar fuck him raw in front of the whole Senate if Caesar told him he wanted it. Look at us now, pursued by Antonius and Octavius, fighting to stay alive.
When the conspiracy fell apart, I had no choice but to turn to Brutus. Not many are fond of me because Caesar always disliked me, saying that I was dangerous because I think too much, but Brutus was well-liked by most for his supposed honor, and I needed his reputation to keep both myself and Titinius alive.
I knew what I was entering into when I went with Brutus. I know that he won't stop fucking me because he blames me for Caesar's death, know that he takes sadistic pleasure in hurting me, but I was prepared to endure the injustice if it ensured Titinius's and my survival. I even withstood his unfounded accusations that I was accepting bribes and, in the process, revealed to him that I'm not brainless-I know he still loves Caesar. I broke his mask that day, and I know that Caesar will always be a sore spot for him. Of course it will; he killed the man himself.
Brutus is of little regard to me, really. I care not whether he lives or dies, whether he bleeds or chokes, whether he commits suicide or is slain by Antonius. The only man whom I have ever loved is Titinius, and I know I will never love another. Titinius has been by my side ever since I was but a small boy, and I can't imagine life without him.
I suppose what he and I feel for each other can be compared to the ardent love Antonius holds for Caesar, and though I won't surrender myself just to satisfy the bloodlust of a broken lover, I can understand him and perhaps even sympathize with him. I would do the same if it comes to Titinius.
Brutus's love with Caesar must not have been very strong at all, much less as strong as Titinus's and mine. If it had, he would not have become so jealous so easily. He would have seen no reason to envy Antonius. But because he did, no matter how much he may love Caesar, it is not pure, trusting love, and he can only blame himself for not loving Caesar enough.
Brutus is a fool. His own stupidity has led me as well as him to a last stand with Antonius and Octavius, and he knows nothing of fighting, at least not to my extent, even though he has been a part of the army longer than I have. He doesn't realize it, but he needs my military genius as much as I need his reputation. He thinks he's a better man than me because he killed Caesar for noble reasons and thus, uses me, but in truth, I am better than him. At least I acknowledge my own vices instead of refusing to look at them and putting the blame upon someone else.
I know I shouldn't have sent Titinius to assess the condition of my camp, especially when I knew that Antonius had most likely seized my tents. I should have sent Pindarus instead; after all, he is worth nothing. I can't afford to lose Titinius, but what is done is done.
Titinius is surely gone now, and with my love dead, I have no more reason to continue living. I did everything for him, and now, he has no more need for my sacrifices except the last one I can give him.
I am ready to spend the rest of eternity with him.
v. love him more
You shouldn't, but you love them both, and you know that you can only love one of them enough, love one of them the way he wants to be loved, the way he deserves to be loved. And this night, you will finally choose.
It's not easy. How can it be? You have known Brutus since the two of you were merely children, and you have been lovers with him for not much shorter. He has been your heart for so much of your life that it's hard to image him out of such a prominent position, and you can scarcely envision what you would have done without him so many times in the past.
Maybe he did fight against you, but you know him well. He doesn't want you to become emperor because he loves the Republic, same as all Romans. Always the honorable one is Brutus, and that's partially why you fell in love with him in the first place. He places honor above all else, and you have often wished that you could have done the same for him because he deserves that, he deserves the one thing that he holds above all else.
But you couldn't. You were away from him constantly, fighting for your country, and you needed someone during those long, lonely nights. Maybe your body wasn't loyal to him, but your heart had always been his and his alone. Only he made you feel true release. Only he gave you utopia.
Then, you met Antonius. He was only a boy at the time, but even then, he was beautiful, slim and golden with wits to match. When you saw him, you knew he would be your perfect heir before anything else, and you immediately took him under your wing.
It took almost everything you had to keep yourself from taking him, and in the end, you couldn't resist him. He didn't resist you. He all but welcomed it in the way his legs spread for you wantonly, the way he sucked your cock that all but screamed sin, and you couldn't stay away from him after the first time.
How can Brutus not suspect anything when he first saw Antonius? He knows you, perhaps much too well, and he knows that you can't resist someone like Antonius, all beautiful and golden and willing, whose very appearance told of his all but vulgar desire to please you. But you never went to anyone else when you were near Brutus because you love Brutus. You love Antonius, yes, but you only loved Brutus.
Yet you are constantly with Antonius, and thought you had the vaguest inkling that you shouldn't, you no longer had the will to restrain yourself from him ever since you first took him, his muscular legs wrapped around your waist promiscuously, himself laying in an almost obscene way in his openness and beauty, his cock hard and in need of release. You never deviate from either of them, though, unless both of them are not present when you need someone, and only then do you turn to someone else, some lowly person (How can anyone compare to Brutus and Antonius?) who is much too eager to give you pleasure in the hope of receiving a shred of power from you. People like that should know better.
You didn't want to think about it, but you knew you would have to choose one of them eventually. After all, you had started thinking about Antonius's golden skin and smooth muscles and perfect mouth when you were with Brutus, and that was unacceptable, not to mention unfair to the both of them.
You had no choice but to visit him less and less. Both of them, really, because you couldn't allow Antonius and his pretty lithe eager body to distract you while you make what is probably the most important decision in your life, at least to you. You had to choose of your own accord the one you love more. Your love for Antonius had grown with his peerless regard for you and the constant time you spent in his company, yet Brutus is the man you loved first and the man you thought you would always love the most. Both of them have valid claims on you; both of them love you, and you love both of them as well.
You really can't let either of them go, don't want to let either of them go. You have been so used to having both of them that you aren't sure what will happen when you choose one of them, but you know you have to because you can't have the two of them always wonder whether you really love him, whether you are really with him when you sleep with him. You can't have the two of them always talking to each other awkwardly and with the utmost care, afraid to touch upon a sensitive topic regarding you, can't have them always wondering what it's like when you're with the other, whether you moan more or fuck him harder or want him more or love him more. You have to make one final decision, satisfy the person you love more, or is it really the person you love the most?
You have thought for several months now, thought and pondered and thought some more. You love them both, you know that, but you can only choose one of them. And you think that you are finally ready to make your decision.
You are certain that you will break someone's heart tonight, that you might very possibly break your own heart or, at least, a part of it, tonight, but you also know that you can't always make the both of them suffer, always make the both of them grudgingly tolerate the fact that you are with someone else as well. You know that not choosing is unfair to both of them, yet choosing is still unfair to one of them.
You can only hope you make the right choice.
04.04.07