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“Horatia, my dear!” @Sara

Marcus had been feeling rather at a loose end of late. Business had been tiring - adjusting to a new Caesar was never an easy thing - and so some quality family time was exactly what he needed. Livia’s carefree giggle was just the thing to perk up his spirits right now, but she was in Tibur, and besides, she hadn’t cracked a smile for a long time. No, Horatia would do just as nicely, he reminded himself as he entered the spacious atrium of his elder daughter’s domus, a nicely decorated room fit for her husband’s social status, bright and welcoming as his own had been at the height of his career. He loved his eldest daughter too, very much so, in fact, and he was far too honest and respectable a man to have favourite children, of course, he reminded himself.  Horatia had become a particular source of pride for him recently, with her husband starting his year as consul (a good choice, he had been, that Aulus. Lesser men would have baulked at such a hasty match, but Marcus was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The boy had potential, he had seen it immediately, and Horatia would clearly be happy with him. He had been right to give his approval). In fact, as he spread his arms in greeting now and looked his daughter over, a sense of pride stirred in him. Horatia was looking even more beautiful than she did in her youth (she’d inherited her mother’s almost startling good looks, the type that even the years couldn’t steal away), and she was wearing a lavish stola Marcus had never seen her wear before (one of the numerous fruits of her husband's thriving career, no doubt). Marcus always been harsh on her, he knew that, and this was why he’d done it - with his guidance, she had become an impressive woman, matronly and refined. Marcus’s own face creased into one of his increasingly rare but utterly sunny smiles as he let his sudden sense of satisfaction show itself. Must let the girl know she’d done him proud.

“It is lovely to see you again. You know, you look wonderful. I’m so glad things are going well for you. Shall we sit down?”

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Horatia grinned genuinely as her father strode in to greet her. "Father," She inclined her head and leant to kiss his cheeks. She nodded and gestured at the garden, in which the slaves had dutifully prepared a meal and pitchers of fresh wine for the pair of them. "I hope the garden is alright? It's less formal than the triclinium, I know, but with the weather..." She was worried she might roast to death if she had to spend an evening indoors.

Smoothing down the fine emerald green stola she wore, she padded lightly into the peristyle. "It's just me tonight, I'm afraid, but Titus and Calpurnia send their love." Her parents-in-law, with whom she, Aulus and her children lived, were at their villa in Baiae, as was their custom in the warmer months. Aulus was attending some evening of gladiatorial games out of the city with their son1, and Calpurnia was with some young girlfriends, leaving the spacious domus empty and in need of some levity. Whilst her relationship with her father was strained at times, she nonetheless missed him and trusted that his company tonight would fill the void of her empty home. She had moved out into her marital home nearly a decade and a half ago now, but sometimes she still craved the warmth of her family home in its heyday, particularly the orderliness of her fathers study where she used to sneak in and read until she fell asleep under his desk and most of all she missed her siblings. She smiled to herself at the memories as she took her seat. 

A slave quickly moved to fill their cups (she had trained them well!) and then retreated. Picking up the fine gilt cup she arched a well shaped brow; "And what shall we toast to, father?" 

 

@locutus-sum

1I've set it the same evening as this thread, which is why Aulus and Titus aren't there! 

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"What shall we toast to, father?"

What, indeed. He was probably supposed to say something like 'the health and prosperity of our new Caesar!'. Looking steadily at his daughter now, her eyebrow raised as she awaited his answer, what he wanted to say was 'to loved ones lost!' - though Marcus knew she'd never really lose her, not when her memory was etched in every feature of the face he was now looking at. But Horatia also looked a great deal like himself, and she shared his sense of duty.

"To the consulship of your Aulus," he pronounced heartily, "May it be a glorious chapter in the annals of our fatherland. And to you, my girl, who are everything a consul's wife should be."

After exchanging a warm grin with his daughter, Marcus closed his eyes and filled his mouth with the wine. A fine Falernian with a subtle fruity note to it, noticeable even though the draught was watered down. He sat for a moment in silence, feeling the sun on his face and the tartness of the grapes in his mouth. Eventually, he took a deep breath and swallowed.

"And how is our illustrious new consul these days, my dear?"

@Sara

Edited by locutus-sum
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Horatia raised her cup with a proud, if not a bit embarrassed, smile and inclined her head. She took a delicate sip of the wine and played with the rim of the fine cup with slender fingers, watching her father. He seemed ill at ease, but that was his way - ever since they had lost their mother and he had lost his wife. Usually it was mitigated as she rarely saw him alone - usually Publius was there, or  her own children which gave them both a distraction, but now they were alone in the peace and abject quiet of the garden, she found herself slightly at a loss for conversation topics. It was why she was glad he ventured first. 

"He's very well thank you," Smiling to herself she indulged in a slight eye roll, "Busier than I've seen him in years, perhaps since we were in Raetia when he was Governor; he's got the Consulship and his building project still to attend to, and the family whilst his father is in Baiae." Fortunately he had kept his word and whilst she saw her husband less, she felt no lower down on his list of priorities. It was the mark of a good and decent man, she thought. 

She took another sip of wine and then set the cup down on the table. Family was always a safe enough topic of conversation with her, at least her own family was. Divides ran deep between herself and her sister Livia but she didn't wish to burden her father with female worries and arguments, and so steered the conversation back to Aulus and the children, she knew it was a much more even surface on which their conversation could rest; "And he's making plans for Titus and Calpurnia. I can't believe I am old enough to have a son who will be fifteen in a couple of months, and a daughter who is thirteen next month." she chuckled but made a point of dropping in their birth months, although she'd follow it up with a missive to her fathers secretary so he wouldn't forget to buy them gifts. Shaking her head and letting her fingers fall to her lap, she regarded her father with that Horatia-inquisitiveness, as if she were studying a particularly intricate fresco; "I think Aulus and Tiberius," Aulus' father, "Were planning for Titus to take his toga virilis soon enough, and Calpurnia well...she'll be of marriageable age before I know it, I'm sure." 

 

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Aha! Yes, dear Titus. You’ve done well with that one, my dear, I have to say. He’s a promising young boy. You know, I was awfully worried about him, growing up without a father for so long in his formative years, but it seems your love, and my own efforts to serve as a male role model, so to speak, have made a good soul of him in spite of it all.” Marcus saw Horatia’s face twitch, but he ignored it. After all, he did help to bring the child up. Surely he was entitled to a say in Titus’ future as well as Aulus? “Yes,” continued Marcus, gazing absently at a statue on the other side of the garden, smiling despite himself as he spooled through his memories of his well-mannered and vivacious grandson, “the boy absolutely must get some military experience as soon as he can. In fact, my dear,” Marcus clapped his hands, “I have several friends in mind whom I could persuade to take young Titus under their wing, some really fine military men.”

Already, Marcus’ machiavellian mind was zipping around his web of contacts, and he wrung his hands in glee at all the wonderful possible futures his grandchild could have, all thanks to him.

And of course dear Calpurnia, as you say, absolutely must get betrothed as soon as possible,” he rattled on before his daughter could reply, gripping Horatia’s shoulders and looking into her eyes, his own shining bright with ideas, “yes, I shall have to be searching out a nice young man for her. Only the best. She’s a wonderful girl, and I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of suitors. Of course, your lovely husband Aulus must have his say too, but with his consulate, I’m sure he has much more important matters of state in mind. But my dear, I’m sure you also have made plans for the darling girl! Tell me, who are you considering?

Marcus looked keenly at his daughter, awaiting her answer. He tried not to feel hurt at her expression - somehow, she didn’t seem to be as full of enthusiasm as he did about this particular topic. Horatia was a dear doting mother, but she simply didn’t understand the need for action on such matters. And, Marcus reminded himself, she really ought to appreciate his help in this area. She herself owed everything she had now to his pragmatism and devotion.

@Sara

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"Father..." Horatia attempted to interject as he started to speak of men with which to place Titus, but she was cut off as he continued to speak. Exhaling any irritation she felt, she instead chose to let him continue. She knew him better than to try and interrupt him mid-idea. He was a man of a solitary mind, and imposing in his opinions. She decided to simply let him finish, and as he turned on to Calpurnia she listened with greater interest. Only when he asked her a question did she finally make a move to speak, but not without hesitation as she came to form her words. She was as inscrutable as he was, but she equally was intensely measured - every word she spoke had a purpose. 

"Father, you know how much they both adore you - and how much Aulus values your opinion," she started off gently and moved to rest a hand on his forearm with a soft, practiced smile, "But...you also, of course, know that Titus and Calpurnia are part of Tiberius' familia, not your own." She didn't pose it as a question, but it was intended as such. She had married Aulus sine manu, and had not  transferred into his authority. Legally - as much as she was Aulus' wife - she remained under the control of her father, as her paterfamilias. But that did not extend to her children - who fell into her father-in-law's familia, by virtue of the fact that they were children of Tiberius' son. With a smile she glanced to her father and gave his forearm a squeeze, "You have potestas over Publius' children, and Lucius' - should he ever take a wife, but either way," She said and withdrew her hand from his to smooth an invisible wrinkle from her dress, "You know Aulus and Tiberius will value your opinion." Even if they have no legal need  to take it, she thought to herself. "And you know which men might be suitable for Calpurnia better than I would. Do you have any thoughts?" She added, to humour him. Pride was a delicate thing, and she was worried she had dented his.

 

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Marcus felt a hint of rage swell up in his gut as his daughter reminded him of his powerlessness over his beloved grandchildren, but he could see she meant well. Frowning at her, he saw a plea in her face, felt the mollifying hand she placed gently on his arm. Her reasonable, calm attitude irritated him slightly, mostly because he knew he himself didn’t really have cause to get angry - the poor girl wasn’t at fault. Besides, shouting wasn’t always the best way to express displeasure. He didn’t have the energy these days, and he knew withering disappointment worked just as well. He looked away for a moment, let out a deep sigh of frustration, then turned back to his daughter.

Of course, Horatia, my dear, I know all that. I respect Tiberius’ judgement, and I wouldn’t dream of ignoring his… legal right. I merely want to let you know that all my resources and contacts are at your disposal if indeed any attractive military posting were to arise for the boy.

That’s it, Marcus, you're doing well, he thought to himself. A man of your standing shouldn’t have such a fragile ego that a gentle reminder from his daughter should send him over the edge. Still, Marcus shifted restlessly, rearranging the folds of his toga before continuing.

Of course I have been doing some thinking of my own on the subject of possible husbands for Calpurnia: what loving grandfather wouldn’t? Let me see… yes, L. Sempronius Atratinus’ son, Gaius, is around the right age. Seems a pleasant sort of lad. I wouldn’t mind securing ties with that family. Appius Cornelius Scipio has a couple of sons, as does Q. Sulpicius Rufus. Or if… well. Many members of… the Imperial family have sons of the right age too. I am close to the new Caesar, and my reputation is good. Perhaps if I…” Marcus broke off, grinning. “But you must think my ambitions are ludicrous, my dear! Tell me the truth, now.”

@Sara

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She exhaled in relief and smiled softly at her father. He seemed frustrated, but he weathered her advice with respect, as she had expected he would. Inclining her head as she leant to pick up a piece of bread - although she wouldn't eat it until he started - she shrugged thin shoulders and sighed. "I know, and your resources and contacts will be invaluable I'm sure, it's only..sometimes it's hard for me to believe he'll be an adult soon enough." Blaming her attempt to diffuse his enthusiasm and meddling on feminine woes seemed a safe way to extricate herself from any annoyance he felt. 

She listened to the list of eligible bachelors with interest. She was sure a few of them were also on her father-in-law and Aulus' lists, but actively thinking about it made her feel nauseas. She tried to disguise it and instead laughed melodically; "I think your ambition is to be celebrated. I suspect Aulus had the same thought, specially now he's in Caesar's consilium1, and close to the man himself." Finally nibbling on her bread to try and banish the nausea that swelled in her chest at the thought of marrying off her daughter, she turned inquisitive eyes back to her father. How she wished he had held such ambition when it came to her own marriage, all those years ago. She distinctly remembered feeling left on the shelf as it was, and firmly believed that Fortuna had placed Aulus in her path and moulded her life, rather than any intervention from her father. It made her a little...bitter. But she swallowed it down, like a rotten grape. 

"You've been keeping yourself busy, I trust?" Picking another piece of bread apart to eat she eyed him, "I'm surprised you've not retired to the villa for the summer yet."

 

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1Consilium Princeps

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“Oh yes, I’m filling my days quite nicely,” replied Marcus, glad for the change of subject. “As much as I’d love a nice stay somewhere far away from here, now's an important time. It's in these early days that the precedent for the future relationship between the Senate and the Emperor is formed." He paused briefly to take his daughter's slender hands in his. "Besides, what is left for me at the villa without you and Livia there? No, my dear, I would have to spend hours reading and walking. I think I'd go mad not being in the thick of things," he admitted. Usually quite a solitary man, Marcus had found that his own company tended to lead him towards his more gloomy phases since… well. Best to distract himself. Make a bit of difference. 

A pause. "And you, my girl, must also have your fair share of duties on your plate, even if those duties lie in the home rather than the Senate. I know it must be an honour to be the consul's wife, but you women face your own share of challenges. How have you been getting on? I'm sure you're doing admirably."

@Sara

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She listened with interest. She had such a mind for politics - had she been born a boy she suspected she would have gone far in politics, but as it was she waited for nuggets and snatched glimpses from the men in her life. She chuckled and shook her head; "You know,She said and reclined back against her seat, "Reading and walking sounds like my idea of Elysium." she had always enjoyed solitary pursuits - being naturally introverted compared to her extroverted, loud mouth sister Livia. She said nothing on her though, her relationship with her sister still strained since Livia's drunken vitriol so many months past. 

Nodding, she sipped her wine and set down the crust of her bread. "The family keep me busy," She smiled fondly, "And I've started some charitable ventures - to compliment my husbands works. But, I've also started a reading club," Her grin broadened now, genuinely pleased, "You and mater taught me to read against your better judgement and I know," She held up a hand, "That some men think it a folly for women to be literate but...father it's wonderful. All of us ladies in one group, reading nd discussing." It warmed her heart, even if she was quite sure several of the women and girls who attended only used it as a gossiping group. 

 

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Marcus let out a hearty laugh, his blue eyes shining with amusement as he looked at his daughter’s earnest expression.

Well! You always were a bright little shrew, weren’t you, my dear!” he chuckled, patting her hand. Dear Horatia. He’d always been amused to see that owlish look she assumed whenever talk turned to matters of State. “With a mind like yours, there’s not much I or your mother could have done to prevent you picking up an interest in literature! Well, so long as you don’t give any of the other ladies any… ideas. It always goes the same way, you see. Women who read start getting funny ideas. Now, I know you are aware of your duty - you look after your family admirably, support your dear Aulus in his career - but unmarried girls can be so impressionable. First they’re reading, next thing you know, they’ve got it into their heads that writing is a good idea too,” he said seriously.

By force of habit, Marcus switched into didactic mode, as he always used to when he wanted to impress a point upon one of his children. One hand he placed firmly on her right shoulder, preventing her from turning away. His chin dipped slightly, and he turned his eyes, wide and blue, upwards to look at her from under his brows which crumpled in the middle with fatherly concern, not breaking the gaze for a second. But most devastating of all was the way he lowered his usually raucous voice to a flat, quiet whisper. Horatia had learnt by now that he wasn’t to be interrupted in such moods. He felt pleased as he saw her react in deference to his will. He continued:

And the thing with women is, however great the poetic genius they’re blessed with, they’re deaf to the call of Calliope. They only seem to want to write vulgar little Ovidian poems. I don’t have any time for that sort of stuff. A debasement of the Latin language, I say. And what Rome needs, my girl, is a nation full of women who raise good, virtuous children and support their husbands in their own work instead of lounging around the place sharing their mediocre poetry.

Something in Horatia’s face sent a sliver of doubt through a gap in his usually self-assured demeanour. Oh, he hadn’t wanted to hurt the poor girl. It was just necessary for her to understand. Sometimes it was hard, but paternal duty obliged him to say something.

Sighing, he returned his hands to his lap and looked away for a second before breaking the silence.

But I don’t mean to say, my dear, that this little scheme of yours isn’t a very good idea. Yes, it is,” he said with increasing conviction, peering into Horatia’s face to make her understand. “You’re a brilliant consul’s wife, yes, and what a good politician needs is a wife who understands what’s going on in public life as well as private. Because private life, people, connections, are the foundation of politics! Yes, in fact, when I was younger, you’ll remember that your mother was like that too, so… so very shrewd, such help to me…

All the energy had drained from his voice. He lapsed into silence and stared at the grass as if forgetting Horatia was even there.

@Sara

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One of the many facets of Horatia's personality was her exceptional ability to look neutral. She affected it now as her father spoke, revealing nothing of the displeasure she felt welling up inside her. Shrew. Funny ideas. Writing. Debasement. Mediocre. She did not try to interject to correct him; that she could write, but chose not to spend her  time composing - she left that to more talented women, and that impressionable young women should read to learn of virtuous women from days past.

She knew her father better, she suspected, than he knew himself sometimes and the firm hand on her shoulder, the other on her hands and the expression he wore suggested he was serious. Even now, at thirty-two, she would not cross her father. They did not have that sort of relationship - even when she felt she had been slighted, as now, she would not flutter her eyelashes and reprimand as she suspected Livia would, or challenge him as her brothers did. So she took his thinly veiled criticism with a neutral expression and taut smile on her lips.

She did, however, choose to interject now and shake her head, withdrawing her hands out of his reach as he withdrew his own; "I know what goes on in the private sphere, I have connections Pater, but I'm not one to gossip." She reached for her wine again, "That was always more of Livia's passion than mine." She couldn't help the catty remark slip from her tongue. She wondered if her younger sister was subject to such lectures as she was.

But she felt the moment of annoyance pass as his face grew wistful and she sighed. Her mother was a sore subject for all the family; her death had been unceremonious and crippling for them all, in their own ways. She offered a softer smile and turned her face to look at him more fully; "She was the best of mothers, I think Calpurnia takes after her." 

 

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Marcus smiled magnanimously at the bitter remark Horatia directed at her sister, deciding to forgive the girl’s comments for once. One has to be gentle to be respected, after all. He made the decision to ignore it and carry on.

Yes. Dear Calpurnia does look remarkably like her, in some ways,” he said in a distant voice that lacked any kind of energy. Snapping back to the present, he turned swiftly to Horatia and smiled slightly. “But then so do you. Perhaps not as much as Livia does, but still…

Unconsciously, Marcus began to stroke his left thumb gently across the ring on his right hand. It was a huge garnet stone, a signet ring. The flesh of his finger had grown up around it as he aged - he didn’t cut quite the same trim figure as he did years ago when Livia Calavia had given him the jewel - and so it gave the distinct impression that it was inset into the skin. If Marcus had even thought about trying to remove it (he hadn’t), he would have done so with great difficulty.

But I know what you mean. It’s not just physical resemblance, is it? The way Calpurnia drifts around the place, her eyes staring… staring at something only she can see, something wondrous that our poor weary minds, dulled by age, could never see again. I wish I could see the things she sees in that head of hers.

Usually, Marcus would change the topic thirty seconds into any conversation that veered towards the subject of his deceased wife. Today, though, he was feeling strange. Perhaps that was why he’d come to see Horatia. She could understand. That same shine in Calpurnia’s eyes, he’d seen it all those years ago, in the eyes of that young beauty in Germania, who became the wife of his best friend, laughing just out of reach as he flailed like Tantalus… And when he had sunk to the floor beside her in the atrium that day, fifteen or so years ago now, it wasn’t the bruises, the torn clothing, that twisted his heart. It was those eyes, glassy, ever so dull.

He looked back to his daughter now, and for once it wasn’t a stream of words that he threw at her in a desperate attempt to communicate, but a look, just a look which said everything he was too weak to say out loud. Understand me. Understand.

Dear Calpurnia.@Sara

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She smiled softly as he spoke of her mother. She missed her, deeply. She always thought she took more after the dear, departed Livia Calavia than her sister or brothers; she had the same quiet temperament - a supporting character, her mother used to call it, not a leading lady. The irony was, of course, that she was a leading lady now - married to a Consul. Her colouring and features too, were unique amongst her siblings. Her nose was smaller, her skin paler and the red hair...her mother had always claimed Horatia was the spitting image of her own mother, Horatia's grandmother, and she'd never pressed it. 

"Me too." She said gently, "She's growing up. You never warned me how difficult it was to parent teenagers, Pater." They were good children, her children. Respectable, and kind and patient...for the most part. Now her blood had come in Calpurnia was prone to more melancholy and she suffered with cramps, and Titus now he was on the cusp of manhood, was drifting further and further away from her with each passing day. All in all though, it could have been much worse. 

She met his eyes as he looked up at her and the look in his gaze broke her heart a little. Her own smile was returned with a sad tilt to her lips and she reached to squeeze his hand gently. "Father..." She sighed and gave his fingers another squeeze, "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry." She knew mention of her mother was bound to land him in this mood - although a wave of guilt came as she realised in a way she preferred it to lecturing-Marcus, which she'd been subject to earlier. It was certainly easier to manage. "Is there anything I can do to ease your burden?" Ever the helpful daughter, she asked. 

 

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Horatia had reacted exactly how he had hoped she would, how he needed her to. His daughter had always been such a compassionate soul, may the gods bless her.

"Nonsense, my dear girl. It can't be helped. There's no use going tiptoeing around the subject, is there, I mean…" he was starting to get flustered, "you're her daughter. I'm her husband." His use of the present tense was deliberate. "That didn't stop being the case when she… No. We mustn't pretend to forget her, just to make it easier on ourselves. And you, my dear," he patted her arm, "have done all you can to lessen the burden. You've shared in it."

He exhaled slowly, looking at the ground. Then, affecting a certain breeziness, he looked back to his daughter.

"But there's no point moping, is there? You have two beautiful," he rubbed her hands in joy, "intelligent children, a wonderful, honourable husband, and I… I have you and my little Livilliola, don't I?"

Despite not having quite the powers of self-knowledge to realise it, Marcus was trying to convince himself as much as to her.

They grow up so fast, don’t they?” he smiles at her fondly. “Only yesterday, it seems, you were a melancholy young girl on the cusp of womanhood. I hope the children aren’t being too much trouble, my dear. They can get so snappish at that age. It occurs to you then that they're drifting away, ready to go off to their own homes, embark upon their own careers, have their own families..." He gave Horatia a pregnant look. "I understand. Sometimes you never want to let them go."

@Sara

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Relieved that he seemed to have turned a corner as they steered the conversation back to safer pastures, she gave him a soft smile. A single muscle in her jaw tightened at 'Livilliola' - her fathers pet name for her younger sister. How her sibling had managed to wrap their astute, direct, formidable father right around her little finger, she didn't know. Maybe it was simply that her and Lucius - being the younger children, and twins at that, had been afforded more slack than herself and Publius as the elder two? It certainly felt like that in her youth, and now. She wondered if her father saw it. 

"Melancholy?" She quirked her eyebrow and a wry grin settled on her lips, "And I don't recall being snapping, Pater." She chuckled, "Although yes," She narrowed her eyes, "Maybe a touch melancholy when things with - what was his name?" She tried to dredge back the memories, "The man I was to be wed to? Latus?" She nodded, that was it, "When things didn't work out with him and it seemed like I was to be on the shelf forever, perhaps I was a touch blue." She had been, and she recalled it now. That feeling of letting her family down. Never the most vivacious, never the life and soul of the party, men had overlooked her in favour of potential brides with fuller figures, more domestics and wider grins. She thanked the Gods Aulus had been after a different sort of bride. 

"You will never let me go, and I'm glad of it." She gave his hand a firm squeeze. She hadn't married Aulus cum manus and so technically was still under the authority of her father, rather than her husband and his father, even now she was wed and had children of her own. "And you know you can call in any time, or if you wished for me and the children to visit you, you need only ask." And she meant it sincerely. "But tell me," She released her grip on his hand and gave him another soft smile, although her eyes had the very Horatia-esque spark of inquisitiveness in them, "What projects are you concentrating on? You wouldn't be my Pater if you didn't have some irons in the fire." 

 

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Marcus’ agitated hands were now still and his eyes were twinkling as Horatia spoke.

Ha-ha! Yes. By Jove, I’d forgotten all about that! How fortuitous in the long run that it all fell through - now you have Aulus, a far better chap than I think Latus could ever have been. And you know you wouldn’t have been too long in finding another husband anyway. On the shelf forever! Preposterous. Your mother did far too good a job with you to let that happen,” he beamed.

As she squeezed his hand, Marcus’ stomach felt bottomless, almost collapsing in on itself. Even now, he hadn’t given her away completely. She may not skip into his study anymore like she used to, wriggling onto his lap to look at whatever he was reading, sounding out the words in her bell-like voice before pausing, turning to him and asking him a question, her head tilted slightly to the side. Those days were gone. But here she was, still Horatia, still the girl who, every time he raised the bar for her, would rise to meet it, the girl who would take every word to heart and act upon her papa’s advice to the letter. And he was still the paterfamilias, still able to push her to new heights of success with his guiding hand.

Thank you, my dear. I will drop in on you more often. But be warned: you and the children, and Aulus, of course, are all so precious to me, you’ll hardly be able to keep me out of the house!” he wheezed, his nose wrinkled in mirth.

Eventually, Horatia let go of his hand and Marcus gave a few coughs and a sigh as his laugh died down into companionable silence, which Horatia broke after a polite pause with an inquiry into his plans.

Well, it’s difficult to know where to focus one’s attention, in truth,” replied Marcus. “It’s about getting one’s foot in as many doors as possible, building influence in the consilium and with the new Caesar himself. And of course my main concern is with doing as much as I can for Titus and Caplurnia.” He coughed. In truth, he was feeling a bit deprived of any particularly burning fires in which to place his irons, so to speak, though he could smell the smoke of danger in the air still. Feeling useless didn’t agree with Marcus. He shifted uncomfortably, reminded of the listlessness, the depression that had motivated him to visit his daughter in the first place. “As for myself - well. I could aim to make myself legatus Augusti propraetor, and I think I could secure it. But everything that’s dear to me is here in Rome. With Aulus as consul, the children nearly grown up… no. No, my place is in the city. I don’t even think I will go to the villa this year, you know. Although I have been positively showering Livia with letters asking to come and stay for a few days at Tibur.

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She smiled at her father. He had been a hero to her in her youth, and the most singular and impressive man she had ever met. In truth, he still was to her - despite her frequent frustration at him, he was still her Father, and still a champion to her. 

"You would be excellent at it, Father." She commented lightly. Maybe that was what he did need? A change of pace from Rome? Aulus could put in a word at the Consilium, she was sure, although hoped her fathers reputation would speak for itself. She didn't say as much though - and figured if her father sought such a role, she would have a quiet word with her husband. No need to embarrass poor Marcus Horatius Justinus with his daughters meddling. 

"You won't?" She blinked, "But Rome gets so-" Ah. Her sister. Tibur. Of course. She arched a brow, intrigued and considered her father; "Has she replied yet? She's been very evasive to me," Although the sisters had quarrelled so badly during Livia's last visit to her sisters house a year prior it really wasn't all that surprising, both Horatii-Justini women could hold a grudge just as well as the menfolk. "I'm afraid she's drifting from my influence, and I don't quite know how to reach her..." 

 

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Marcus smiled at Horatia's compliment. It was well a sign of her respect and love, even though she had no authority to comment on matters political. Naturally, he would excel at the position. Marcus' ability to command, and to command respect, was never in question, especially not in his own mind. His confidence in other matters, however, was not as strong. The validation of Horatia's confidence in him pleased him more than he'd ever admit to himself.

The look on his eldest daughter's face as he mentioned his attempts to contact her younger sibling gave him a start. He had no idea Livia's unresponsiveness had been equal in her correspondence with Horatia to that with him. They had always been so close as girls; many an hour he'd spent watching them skipping around in the garden from the doorway of his study, until they noticed him, collapsed into a fit of giggles and scampered off to another corner of the house. He hadn't been surprised when his youngest had stopped writing frequently. After all, she was living in a peaceful idyll miles out from the drama and heat of the city with a new husband. She was probably too busy having fun to think very often of her old father. But Horatia had with her a sisterly bond, something that even the carefree Livia, wrapped up in her own head and life, bless her, would not fail to maintain. Something about Horatia's admission that they'd fallen out of contact somewhat disturbed Marcus more than he'd care to admit. Unconsciously, he gripped onto Horatia's wrist, hard, as if afraid she'd slip away too.

He looked across the garden, at the floor, at his knees, then finally at Horatia.

"My dear, I didn't know... well, she's probably too busy living her own life," he said with a thin laugh. "She's... grown up. I can't expect her to write every day, can I? Well, I shall keep writing, hopefully I'll get through to her eventually. I'm sure there's nothing... well, of course there isn't anything wrong. You know how Livia is."

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Horatia winced at the grip on her wrist, although it wasn't explicitly painful, she knew that her father when tense or solemn wasn't somebody to be trifled with, as all Roman men were not. She smiled weakly and sighed, laying her hand over the one that was holding her arm, as if to say; 'you can let go now', and out of reassurance. 

"I do know how Livia is." She wasn't sure if her father would tolerate any ill-repute against his youngest (and quite clearly favourite) daughter, but their argument had concerned her, as had her sisters apparent determination to stay in Tibur. Livia used to love the city, she thought that her sibling would be bored stiff in the countryside. "And you're right, she could just be busy, I hear Tibur is positively bustling this time of year." Sarcasm didn't suit her, but she found herself falling into it when faced with her sister - either in person, in conversation. "But I'm sure she'd appreciate a visit from you, or perhaps you could invite  her and her husband to Rome? She can't ignore a summons from you," Not if she had any sense of propriety. "I just want her to be happy and...I get the sense she is not." 

 

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Marcus tried tipping the remainder of his wine down his throat, but it seemed to have closed up suddenly; rather than drowning his panic, he'd watered it. No, it couldn't be. Marcus Horatius Justinus was not the kind of man who was blinded to reality. That Livia had really been suffering and he'd failed to notice it was a possibility too horrible to contemplate. If it was true, he would be so horribly, disastrously wrong that everything would fall apart. He prided himself on knowing his daughters. He knew what they were thinking, how their minds worked, how they felt... or did he?

Two options faced Marcus. If he was indeed right, and Livia was still the same old joyous girl, then questioning himself would be ultimately pointless. And if he was wrong... well, he'd already made his mistake. No point crucifying himself with self-doubt until he knew the worst. The reality of his mistake would destroy him, he knew that. And he was certain he wouldn't let it until it hit him in the face, an enemy no longer lurking in the dark woodland of denial but ready for the charge. If it was coming, it was coming whether he liked it or not. To spend all his effort scouring the treeline for its dark shape would be a waste of time; it would send him over the edge.

And so he chose self-deception.

"I don't like sarcasm; it's vulgar and it's impertinent," he said dryly with a sudden, devastating quietness. He refused to look at Horatia, merely reaching out to pour himself another glass of wine, filling it to the brim, daring Horatia to cross him again by protesting. "And as you say, I am sure she will not ignore me for long. She knows better than that."

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And there was the reproach, although she couldn't tell whether it was serious or a consequence of her fathers peculiar mood. Nonetheless, she inclined her head in apology and swallowed. She loved her father, she truly did, but she often felt like she was walking on egg-shells around him, tip-toeing to ensure she didn't upset his finely balanced moods or fall short of the lofty expectations she was constantly put under. She wanted to retort that it was just a joke, but bit her tongue. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be in conversation with him, and it was no wonder she enjoyed married life - out of his scrutiny so much. She swallowed again at the thought, chastising herself for such a notion.

"She does." She agreed with a light smile, we all do, and she glanced at the full-to-bursting wine cup in front of him, "But I would appreciate it if you could let me know how she fares, when or if you do indeed go to Tibur." Because she was more than positive Livia now wouldn't admit any sort of truth to her, but she might just do to their father - if he pressed hard enough. "And hopefully the sight of you will lift her spirits, as it does for me." She genuinely meant it as well; whist complex and often frustrating, she still enjoyed her fathers company. Most of the time. 

 

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Marcus closed his eyes and drained his cup. When he'd finished, he let out the breath he'd been holding, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and set the cup down.

"Naturally, I will let you know of her situation. I understand; your concern for her is equal to mine."

Horatia's attempt to placate him with flattery was feeble, but the intention took the edge off his mood nonetheless. Ordinarily, he would have expressed in return how much he enjoyed her company also, but this was one of the situations where affection had to be withheld, despite his wishes. She had crossed a line.

Oh, but it shouldn't be like this! The wine, the stress, it all made him want to clutch his daughter to him and never let go. Although he was loathe to consciously admit it, part of him also knew that if he hugged her, he'd probably break down. He didn't want to be weeping inconsolably in front of the poor girl. As a father and a senator, he had an image to maintain, and besides, he couldn't let her see the monstrous self-loathing thrashing around in his stomach, not that he had anywhere near the introspective powers to realise that was what it was. And so he did what he usually did, pressed his lips into a thin line, gave a small cough, refilled his cup and resisted the urge to reach out to her.

Perhaps it was time to make an exit, before he used up all his willpower. But he didn't want to leave, not now. He needed her. That was why he'd come.

The silence was currently a heavy one, so Marcus allowed his gaze to soften a little, looking into his daughter's face to let her know he wouldn't pursue the matter anymore.

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The silence droned on and Horatia felt her mouth go dry and body tense. She saw the way his lips pressed into a thin line and the displeasure he was evidently feeling. What had riled him so much, she wasn't sure - it had only been a joke. Still - she knew better than to cross him in a mood like this, and so waited in the uncomfortable silence until he gave her a signal that he was in the mood for conversation. Horatia was usually happy in silence, happy in her own company - she was a woman in her thirties, a mother, a wife, cool calm and collected to most people but her father and his judgments still made her feel tense and like she was a teenager again, desperate for an ounce of approval.

The signal came with a meaningful, softened look and she exhaled with a soft smile. The topic of conversation would be important - something light and easy to discuss, with no reference to Livia whose mentioned seemed to have troubled him, nor anything that could be even tangentially related to her mother. She racked her brain and settled on a project; "Aulus' baths are progressing well, he thinks they should be completed within the year." May the Gods make it so because even the infinitely patient Horatia wanted to stop hearing about that, "Have you considered such a thing? I know there's a library being built by the Imperials but I suspect you were rewarded well from your time in the legions," Her lips twitched in a smile - they'd never really discussed money beyond her dowry but her father was evidently very wealthy, "And Rome or Italia could always use more projects..." It would also keep him distracted, she thought. 

 

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Marcus’ head snapped round to look at his daughter and the hint of a smile he had been recovering dropped from his face. Looking into his eyes at that moment was like staring down an eagle and seeing the bold calculation in its eyes as it cocks its head slightly to the side, the feathers of its neck playing slightly in the wind.

Well, if your Aulus wouldn’t mind - I thought it best to retreat to the wings for the time being, seeing as he has decided to take centre stage in the world of public infrastructure. My dear, what a wonderful idea! I had of course considered it myself, but as I said, with Aulus’ new thermae…

Some part of him was strangely unsettled at the prospect of undertaking a construction project. Marcus Horatius Justinus was somebody who liked to immerse himself in politics, test the temperature and dive in when needed, to come to the aid of his country. The surface-level stuff wasn’t really his area - he was deep down, feeling the undercurrents, gauging which one would be the next to try to sink the ship of State. Scylla had been successfully circumnavigated, yes, and she was now in clear straits, but something told Marcus that the moment he took his eyes off the water, Charybdis would surge up and deal her a blow.

Perhaps you're just being a silly old man, Marcus. Are you so unused to peacetime that you have to invent threats where there are none? A building project. Yes, that’s a good idea.

"But what to build, that's the question, isn't it, Horatia dear? You know how fond I am of libraries, but with the stones being lifted to form one as we speak, I fear I am too late to contribute to the city in such a way. A temple, then? A temple…

He felt a thrill in his stomach. He could imagine it now, the towering columns, the dark space inspiring reverence, and the face of a goddess, a face who would watch over her children long after he himself was dust, a face of divine beauty, that face, her face, flickering almost as if alive in the light of the dancing candles and the glow of mortals’ reflected adoration.

... a temple to a goddess. Yes, I will make it happen. I will stand her before all Rome!” he cried, gripping the wine jar with shaking fingers. He filled the cup right up to the brim, so that as he tipped his head back to down it in one, the wine splashed up onto his cheeks and mixed with his tears.

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