#OOPS THERE'S BLOOD ON THE FLOOOOOOR

[littlecaesar]

Even if he'd been a mere child for most of it so far, you didn't have a position of power as long as he had and not notice when someone was clearly desperate and frankly full of shit. Caesarion smelled a rat the minute the woman had started talking and he knew something was very, very wrong. While no one was more dedicated to the Goddess than her living embodiment that was his mother, seeing someone during ceremonies and living with them on a day to day basis were two different things. What they saw and what the girls who lived here saw of her were bound to be different.

His thoughts had proved correct, and when the small figure in red that was his cousin started to speak, to say exactly what had happened. Honestly, he was both impressed with her for sticking it to the woman like that, and completely and utterly furious for what he was hearing. Mostly the latter at the moment, and he found his sword hand gripping the pommel so hard it was starting to dig into his skin.

Caesarion had always considered his bedroom activities simply victimless fun. He'd never promised anything to anyone, therefore he couldn't be blamed if anyone got the wrong idea or made assumptions that it was something it wasn't. He wasn't stupid enough to think that they didn't dream of a crown, and Demetria only confirmed that, but even he couldn't control other people's thoughts. It hadn't been victimless though; she'd been hurt by all this and he was now starting to realize how accurate his aunt's statements had been. The rage building up inside him practically exploded when she finished speaking, whether it was at them, the high priestess, or even at himself for allowing him to be the reason Demetria had gotten hurt he didn't stop to think about.

"Clearly you are an absolute fucking disgrace to my mother's temple and you are as of this second relieved of your position," he spat, pulling the sword out and pointing it at her as he did so, "But before you leave here forever you need to know some things." he lowered the sword, point digging into the ground and continued.

"My mother's sisters are NO LESS her sisters because their mothers weren't royal. My siblings' father is far from it and they are still my siblings. Demetria's mother is almost as much a mother to be as my own and she and my other Aunt are the most dedicated, loyal people in the entire world. My cousin is the descendant of the same Kings I am, and she can behave however she wants to because..." A thought had struck him then, of course he couldn't make up for what had happened, and he was probably only going to angrier with himself when he saw her up close, but this at least he could do. "Because as of this moment she is no longer a slave. She is every bit as free as anyone else here, and got here because she deserves to be. The women in my family have always been extremely intelligent and she is no exception."

Shocked looks and mutterings seemed to be the order of the day, and he could hear nothing but that at what he'd said. He didn't care though, the more he'd heard the worse he felt. Probably that had been Charmian's intention, and Demetria was likely furious at her for telling but now he had to right the wrongs that had happened. Even if they weren't as close as they'd been, that didn't mean he still didn't care about what happened to her. Besides that, if the woman acted like that to her, she'd probably done it to others too and that also could not stand.

"Wait a moment," he said to Demetria when she asked to leave, turning towards the High Priestess with a face full of fury thinking about what she and others had likely had done to them.

"We do not stand for those who allow innocent children to be abused. You will get down on your knees and beg for your life, perhaps I might be generous enough to let you keep it." Within seconds the woman had scrambled over and dropped to the floor in front of him, absolutely desperately blubbering anything she could come up with in an attempt to keep herself alive. With the easier angle of her being even closer to the ground, Caesarion had little trouble hefting his sword up and rapidly swinging it back down again, cutting the head off in one strike. It and the body hit the floor as he heard the gasps and screams of the people around him, blood spilling everywhere and particularly sprayed onto him. His mother was likely not going to be overly pleased by his actions, but he was sure he could make her understand.

"That," he said, wiping the blade off as best he could on the tunic he already knew was a loss as he could hear Emrys' lessons about keeping a sword clean, before sheathing the sword once again, "Is what happens to people who attack my family. I will speak to my mother about a new high priestess, but in the meantime someone clean that mess off the floor."

The moment he arrived, Tria felt the air crackle around her and knew instinctively her mother had betrayed her trust and gone straight to Pharaoh. Admittedly, she had known that was a likely outcome but there had still been a flicker of hope that her mother would prize her trust in her over using her secret to force a reconciliation upon her she wasn't even sure she wanted.

Panic swept the courtyard; a palpable, heart racing panic that had everyone afraid to breathe let alone move. They had miscalculated quite seriously what was going on with Pharaoh and where that left her - a foolish gamble that had left them in the path of his ire. But so, in fact, had she. For the shock they all wore she mirrored on her own countenance. She would've bet her life's money ( admittedly a very small sum ) that he wouldn't care - but here he was and the anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Unable to bear the agonising potential of hearing herself and her trauma spoken of by the perpetrators of her suffering as they desperately tried to save themselves, Tria made a break for it. Achingly close to the mouth of the temple and sweet freedom, the High Priestess spotted and called out to her - but her tone was different from before. The punishing tone was replaced with a relief akin to someone offered a life raft when they had been on the precipice of drowning. "Demetria! D-Demetria can tell you herself, your Majesty." And sugar coat it. Make his anger go away. Save us.

Tria stilled because she had to. Just as she turned, gritting her teeth and nails digging half moons into her palms, to face the High Priestess once again with hundreds of eyes boring into her back. But she would not look at him. Not only because of the bruising and cuts that littered her face but because there was little dignity in having ones most vulnerable moments exposed but what little there was she was going to cling to. Which meant not looking into the eyes of the person who had hurt her first and arguably worse and risk the tears that might cause.

Because she was certain his information source was her her mother, Tria saw no point in lying as she would've told him everything- besides, none of them deserved her protection and certainly hadn't earned it. Tipping her chin up defiantly, she met the desperate gaze of the woman who had lifted not one finger to help her over all the years she had been in her care and asked:

"What would you have me tell his Majesty, High Priestess? Should I tell him that you believe I am an uppity slave who needs reminding of my place? Perhaps I should advise him that despite holding the top rank in the dedication to his mother, our Queen, you believe her sister and me as her child, not a relative of theirs but merely property they own; no different from the palaces and land we stand upon- certainly not human or family. If not that then maybe you would like him to know that you've never tried to stop the fights that break out here under your watch - you encourage the infatuation your girls have on him and allow them to take it out on me when they fail to reach for the throne. Or maybe you would wish for him to know you encourage the rumor he bought my way into temple and I did not have the ability or the smarts to get here myself." Having control over her own story was oddly cathartic. There was freedom in letting go of it all.

"It is quite simple. You and those you took under your wing believed I fell from favour when Pharaoh favoured Antyllus-" Tria heard her own voice break but stubbornly pulled it together because she refused to let him know anymore than he already did about her vulnerabilities. Having the woman who facilitated her struggles at her mercy was oddly satisfying. It surely meant the end of her career and Tria wasn't sorry for it at all - one day she'd have to thank him for giving her the means to end her. With every word she spoke the High Priestess sank a little more into the sands, her hands beginning to tremble as no life line was offered and any hope of saving herself went away as the bitter truth was laid bare. "- and you felt it safe then to do with a vulnerable, sad child what you liked and felt there'd be no consequences but now here it is and you look beseechingly upon me seeking my help when you never offered the same for me and I was a child."

The stunned silence of her audience made the muffled sobs of the High Priestess almost deafening to Tria. In no mood for her pitiful attempts at mercy, she at last was forced to address her cousin. She wanted to make a dramatic exit and flounce off into a year long hibernation but he was Pharaoh, she was indeed his slave and she could not afford so public a disrespect. Instead, she forced herself into a curtsy, bowing her head too -

"Your Majesty, if it pleases you - I'd like to go now."