#verse: Mellontikós Basileus Italia

[littlecaesar]

Continued From: Here

"Oh I know he doesn't like me, don't worry about sparing my feelings," he said casually, waving a dismissive hand, well the one that wasn't still holding hers anyway, "If he's ever been proud of me I've never seen it. And yeah, everyone knows he's old as dirt, you can say it. I mean, my sister, God rest her soul, was seven years older than my mother and had she not passed how she did, I could have a nephew in his 20s at the moment." Caesarion really, really didn't like to consider that fact, his parents were gross enough and even if he really did live to be 100 someday he was never going to see what the pretty young 20 something his mother had been when he was conceived saw in his father.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help chuckling a bit too when she talked about riding. It wasn't as though he could deny that she was right, because she both very much was and would call him out on his lying in 5 seconds flat if he tried. Maybe someone else would have flattered him, gone alone with it, but not her.

Soon enough she had slipped away, and the look on her face when he found her at the Casa and shouted about the archives was priceless. He hadn't been so pleased with himself in a long time, and glaring daggers at the gaggle who tried to approach him he strolled over with a shit eating grin on his face. "You should really be a lot nicer to the person who is someday going to have the power to control who goes in there," he insisted, leaning over to both hand her the flowers and whisper in her ear, perhaps just a little closer than he needed to be, "And no one insults my mother anyway, because people love her, and plus anyone stupid enough to somehow ends up missing without me having to lift a finger."

"I most certainly did, and I'm glad you like them and won't be committing assault," he replied once he'd straightened up with the lock in his hand, blatantly ignoring the people craning their necks to try and see what was going on and not even trying to be subtle about the fact that they were staring. "I could tell you wanted them, and you wouldn't buy them for yourself. Can a man not buy someone something just because he knows it will make her happy?" He did want to do that of course, why wouldn't he? She was important to him, he'd wanted to come and spend the time with her, and if anyone had anything to say about it he was definitely not shy about telling them where to go. He smiled as she looked up from smelling the roses, happy that she was happy with them.

"If that is what Lady Demetria wishes, I'll put it up for you. Also I'm taller than literally everyone who's not your father or the King of Spain" he teased, uncapping the marker and carefully writing Caesarion + Demetria on it, before affixing it to the gate. "You're the history genius who's going to be a super famous for it someday, so lead the way," he said, winking at her and taking the arm that wasn't holding the flowers it.

[littlecaesar]

There were maybe a total of six people that Caesarion would almost always pick up the phone for. The name flashing at him on the caller ID at the moment was not one of them, although the accompanying Imperial March ringtone was at least faintly amusing as he ignored it.

It had been a Friday, with only one class in the morning, and naturally he’d decided on going to see his best friend. Only to find she’d gone off to Verona, and “Probably staying in some awful little hotel too Caesarion, it’s terrible really,” as he’d been told. Which of course made him terribly indignant as there was no way he was letting that happen, so with a few phonecalls on the way he’d both tracked her down and booked the two biggest suites at the nicest hotel that was there.

“Friends don’t let their friends stay in crappy hotels, even if they’re peasants,” he’d teased as he sauntered into her room behind her. Tria had rolled her eyes and taken her small suitcase into the bedroom to unpack, leaving him lounging on one of the couches in the living room. Sighing as though he was being told to make nice with his cousin Atia’s horrible youngest spawn, he picked the phone up to answer it.

“Father, is this a yell at me call, a you pissed off mother call, or did someone die.”

“Yell at me it is. And no I absolutely did not fuck off with no warning, last time I checked I was 18, in school, and an adult who had no appearances or duties till next week.”

If it were possible to roll his eyes any harder he probably would have, holding the phone away from his ear while his father continued a familiar diatribe against him. He only interrupted him when he heard him say “Enough is enough, you can not be chasing after your little peasant friend all the time. People will talk more than they do already. You’re a Prince for Christ’s sake, I’ve got better hopes for you than someone like that.”

Caesarion was gripping the phone so tight then he nearly broke it, and was trying not to hurl it across the room and shatter it. “You do NOT, ever, talk about my best friend like that. Do you hear me? I’ve told you that before and I won’t say it again........no I don’t particularly care that you’re the damn King right now.....no you listen. Demetria is my closest friend, and one of the only people on this earth that doesn’t give two shits about the fact that I’m a Prince. No one’s allowed to talk about her like that, and especially not you just because you’re pissed off that people genuinely like me not the Prince of Piedmont, unlike you. I’m not going anywhere until Sunday and will be ignoring you from here on out. Good bye malaka.” 

Hanging up he gave into the impulse and tossed the phone onto the other couch where it at least wouldn’t break, settling for chucking a cushion across the room instead. 

[littlecaesar]

Caesarion couldn't help the faint shudder when she mentioned that. Anyone with half a functioning brain could see he was infinitely more popular and well liked than his father, but he didn't have any immediate desire to take on the family business quite yet. There'd been plans put in place should such a thing happen for quite some time, owing to both his father's advanced age at his birth and his obvious general unpopularity in subsequent years, but that didn't mean he'd be overly thrilled to have to enact them. "While obviously it will be the event to end all other events when it does happen, I hope it's not particularly soon," he admitted, knowing she was one of the few people he could admit that to and not worry about it, "Naturally I'd do it and be damn good if it came down to it, but I'd rather not take the throne as a teenager if I can help it."

As he'd been born for the job, he'd been trained since he was old enough to realize it to take the throne someday. Largely owing to his mother of course, who was often said to be more regal in demeanor and actions than the actual King and she hadn't been born royal. It wasn't even remotely arrogant of him to say he would be a good king, both by training and general personality he knew he'd be well suited to the role. It was something his cousin Lucius told him all too often, mostly while he was thanking his lucky stars Caesarion had been born in the first place and relieving him of the burden of being a future monarch.

"Ah, but you see by definition most of the things I have access to would fit at least some of the requirements, even if they're all obscenely expensive," he replied, doing a mental catalogue, "Not everything is big enough to sink the Titanic, even if that's what my taste runs to. And mother's for that matter. Remind me to get her to give me her keys when we go home and I'll prove it to you."

He laughed rather loudly when she started to whisper about the Etruscan people and pasta, how had he somehow known she'd have a tidbit like that stored away in her brain somewhere. "You're starting to sound like my Uncle Philip," he said, putting on an even more over-exaggerated Greek accent than usual "Those lazy no good Italians, save you little Ptolemy, never had a good or original thought in their lives. Stole everything from us genius Greeks, the bastards." He then sighed in a pretend long suffering way, grinning down at her. "I suppose you're right, I'd survive. Would be a shame to have to fumigate my clothes for peasant germs though, the horror!"

He laughed once again at her imitation of Charmian, it was pretty spot on and he knew his phone was probably full of similar ones from his second mother. Probably a few more calm ones from his actual mother too, along with probably at least a half dozen screaming ones from his father. He would either listen to those later for entertainment or just delete them outright, he hadn't decided just yet.

Demetria rising up and kissing his cheek had been a surprise, and it distracted him enough to not make a crack about how she'd managed to get so high up without stealing shoes from Gene Simmons to be able to reach. "I'm impossible to forget I'll have you know, and it's not like I'm going anywhere," he insisted, tugging her over with his arm linked through hers, "I'm afraid you're stuck with my bird bothering rich boy arse for the rest of our lives. So deal with it Miss Future Genius Historian." A cloudy look crossed his face as he contemplated the thought of not being around; he didn't care what his father or anyone else said, that wasn't changing anytime soon as long as he could help it.

Seconds later she interrupted his thoughts by letting go of his arm and taking off, this time into the Casa instead of somewhere in the city so he didn't have to worry about where she was. Somehow getting past what was probably crowds waiting for their turn, she popped up above him on the balcony. He looked up at the tiny figure in that pretty red dress and waved at her, glad she was still having fun despite all his intrusions that day.

A thought flickered into his mind then, and he knew a decidedly devious grin was ever so slowly spreading across his face. While normally he at least made an effort to try and keep her out of the news as much as humanly possible, owing to her obvious hatred for it, there was just something in him that couldn't resist given the setting and her words. "Romeo am I? Well then," he called back up, clearing his throat and searching his mind back though the Shakespeare he'd memorized back in school. Projecting his voice to make sure she heard in, not that it was necessary as his voice carried anyway, he started to recite one of the play's most infamous passages.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks...

"Well, since you consider me smart allow me to impart some wisdom on you, your royal snarkiness - don't say that comment about your dad within earshot of anyone who can understand Greek or you're going to be on the throne and planning the coronation to end all coronations" Tria mused, elbowing him playfully while continuing their conversation in Greek. "You've got to know they're waiting for a reason to pounce an abdication on your father and get you on the throne."

Being part of the unseen of backstairs had given her an insight into the machinery of monarchy that few had. The scrutiny of poll numbers, crowd size and positive press numbers led themselves to many a witty joke about men and their obsession with sizes that Tria always had to bite her tongue to avoid making. Though they continued to push the current reign, it was obvious to Tria that there was also a movement in the courtiers to prepare for the next reign and make sure they were in good standing with the Prince before the time came.

The looming feeling of dread at the thought of his rising up to the throne was chased away by his words on her preference for rings. She found herself staring at him, not quite believing what he was saying - or how accurate it was. It was often said how well she knew him but everyone always seemed to miss - including her! - that it went both ways. "Sometimes you surprise me in the most unexpected ways." She managed, obviously ruffled by the casual revelation. In a bid to right herself, she joked as he took her arm again an they walked together, "Just not one of your heirlooms, I couldn't imagine having something worth more than most of the homes in Rome on my finger - I'd be terrified."

Tria laughed as he asked about pasta, rolling her eyes she nudged him but still - she had the answer. "Pasta has been found in Etruscan digs. Waaaaay before Verona. Like... before Jesus. And, do you wanna know the big scandal of the Etruscan people?" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Some believe they were Greeks who settled in Italy which would mean Greece could claim pasta also." She gasped playfully before allowing herself another laugh. She had a feeling he'd like that - for a future Italian ruler he was incredibly proud of his Greek heritage. "You'd have survived if it was a hotel still - it'd be an experience. Something to tell the grandchildren. Rich people rashes can be treated and go away, memories last forever." She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

"My God my mother," dread seeped into her tone that not even the brilliant sight of the casa before her could fix. "I bet my phone is filled with messages and missed calls and my voicemail is full with screeching messages - undoubtedly about you." She changed her voice to a near perfect impression of her mother. "Did my baby boy arrive safely? Is he with you? Demetria! Demetria! Look after my boy! He's delicate. Only Egyptian cotton; don't forget!" Perspective though - she was at the casa, she was with Caesarion and she could deal with her mother at another time. Preferably as far into the future that she could push it without leaving her mother no alternative but to chase her down. The horror.

But she couldn't dwell on that too long; not when he was talking about their future. Not their future. They would always be in each others lives but inevitably they would grow apart. He had a destiny to govern the future while she wanted to take care of the past. But they still had now. Now, in Verona, at the casa, with Juliet watching them from her pedestal. Without really thinking, she rocked up onto the balls of her feet and kissed his cheek. "I promise I won't forget you when I'm director of the archives of Italy," she teased playfully as she sank back down to her natural height. "And I promise you'll always be welcome as long as you don't heckle me and I can tell everyone about how you nearly drowned in the river because you were being an idiot with the gulls."

Not wishing to dwell on a future of passing moments, she left his side and with a mischievous glint in her eye, disappeared through the great iron door and out of sight in the casa until she emerged onto the famous balcony. The view was breathtaking; no wonder they had wished to make Shakespeare's vision come to life. Through the throng of visitors in the courtyard, he was easy to spot. She waved down at him, laughing as she called down, "Romeo you look so small down there!"

[littlecaesar]

People staring truly didn't phase Caesarion much, if ever. He was so used to it, it was so a part of his life, that he'd probably notice the absence more than the presence of it. It was like water and he was a fish that thrived swimming in it, which he came by naturally enough thanks to both of his parents. Often he tuned it right out, especially if he was enjoying himself like he was right now. That didn't mean he couldn't death glare anyone who attempted to get too close or looked like they were going to shove a phone in one of their faces or something though.

"Who don't you outsmart though, honestly? That's hardly fair," he immediately shot back, taking such a great deal of glee in the fact that no one could understand a word and the eavesdroppers were obviously getting frustrated, "I'm half Greek, half Italian, and have one functioning biological parent who's my mother. You don't need a genius like you to realize that."

He grinned at her obvious amusement in regards to the lock, there wasn't a day that went by that someone wasn't writing something about him anyway. "At least it's not that we're having twins this time. And besides, if they're going to print nonsense at least get it right." He contemplated the locks for a second, very tempted to snap a quick picture himself but decided against it after realizing that would mean turning his phone back on and he did not want to deal with all the screaming old man voicemails. "You're not the type of person who'd want a ring bought for them, you're more of a family heirloom, something of significance sort of girl," he continued, after taking her arm and trying not to give much thought about how easily that idea came to his mind.

Escorting her in, she started basically playing tour guide, and doing a damn better job of it than any actual one he'd seen in his not ever humble opinion. "Did they invent the pasta too, that's what I had for dinner last night," he teased, knowing it wasn't true but it was impossible for him to resist saying it anyway. Mostly he was perfectly happy to watch her being happy, he knew there were few things that did so other than historical things like this. Her enthusiasm was what made him so sure that someday she was going to do great things, with or without friends in the literal highest of places.

"Good thing it's not still a hotel then, my expensive arse would get a rash." He was again contemplating taking his phone out, which he did briefly but did not turn it on. "We'll have to take a picture with her for mother," he said, a particularly devious grin on her face, "We could send it to her and turn our phones right back off. I'll bet we could hear her shriek from here."

He smiled back at her and nodded his head. "I know it does, and I know you love it," he replied, looking from her up to the balcony and back again, "That's why you're going to be a famous best selling genius historian someday. Who is definitely going to have someone tall and suited embarrass her by showing up and cheering at all her very fancy and important events. Because he can and won't take no for an answer even if you shriek and hit him with things."

Although it'd been a factor of her life for as long as she could remember, Tria would never get used to the way people stared. Most tried to be subtle about it but others openly craned their neck and stood on the tips of their toes to get a better look or listen in to a conversation. Many a time Tria had wondered if they found the mundanity of her relationship with Caesarion a disappointment when they finally got a peak in - two old friends who knew each other better than any other.

Certainly some parts of the media narrative about them was true - they frequently portrayed her as in love with him and she had recently had to reconcile herself to the fact she probably - almost definitely - in some ways was. There couldn't really be any denying it when he gave her the flowers and she felt almost embarrassingly weak at the knees and more than a little lightheaded.

Her wit, thankfully, had not left her in it's entirety. "What kind of cruel ruler would deny his best friend access to the archives merely because she outsmarts and outsasses him?" She stuck her tongue out childishly to show she was teasing. Despite hearing her mother in her ear proclaiming that one day she'd roll her eyes so hard they got stuck, Tria did in fact roll her eyes as he spoke of his mother. "If little else is conventional about you, the Italians certainly never have to worry about you ruining their global reputation for being the home of mama's boys."

Sparring about him with his mother and the archives was easier than trying to deal with all the emotions that welled up inside of her as he told her, with great ease it appeared, that he brought her flowers for her because it'd make her happy. Rather than deal with that, she elbowed him playfully, jerking her head in the direction of their rapt audience of locals and tourists hanging on their every word and movement. "That'll be all over the front page tomorrow I hope you know that," she muttered in Greek, hugging her flowers closer to her chest and dipping her nose for another smell of the glorious fragrance. "Prince of Piedmont buys flowers for his best friend - next, an engagement ring." She rolled her eyes again unable to stop herself.

If the news media were to be believed she'd been engaged at least a hundred times, secretly wed at least ten or twenty and had more 'oops!' scares than she cared to think about.

"You're not just tall, you're overgrown," Tria corrected playfully, watching with quiet excitement as her lock joined the hundreds, probably thousands, attached to the iron gate of the Casa. Was she aware that there'd be photos of it to accompany the flower story in the morning? Yes. But not even that could spoil the thrill. As he took her arm she took a breath, forcing herself to focus even as he winked at her and her knees felt rather wobbly ( It really was easier to be in love recovery when the person you had feelings for wasn't so close, with their scent dazzling your senses almost as much as their floral gift.)

"The Piazza Erbe, the square we're in, dates back to the Roman era," she began as they walked through the gates and at last into the famed square dominated by the statue to Juliet and overlooked by the even more famous balcony. "The casa itself dates back to the 14th century and was known at the time as hospitium in Capello - the hospital chapel, probably because the casa was built on to a tower from the last century or perhaps because the Capelletti family," a pause and an amused glance his way, " sound familiar? Were recorded as pharmacists up until the middle of the 15th century."

Her gaze fixed on the famed statue of Juliet, a wry smile tugging at her lips, "Despite all our best searching it appears that the Capelletti family had little if any interaction with the family who Shakespeare took Romeo's name from - the Montecchi family. They were involved in power struggles themselves with Sambonifacio family but never the Capelletti. " From the statue she took in the balcony and continued her tale. "After the heyday of the 15th and 16th century the casa became a hotel for a couple of centuries, Dickens stayed here wouldn't you know!" She lowered her voice playfully to a conspiratorial tone. "He described it as very cheap and not altogether to his liking.

Then we have this," she nodded to the balcony and the casa; much admired and known throughout the world as Juliet's home and her balcony it was in fact... a replica at best. "The imaginings of a series of architects in the 1930s looking to impose their 'renaissance' flair upon the building although to be fair to them, for the balcony itself they used marble from the age of Romeo and Juliet, stored for centuries at the Castelvecchio Museum here in Verona."

With her tale now told she shrugged her shoulders, smiling all the same. "It keeps the coffers of your country full thanks to tourists who all come to see the home of their beloved heroine and the most famous balcony in the world - even beating your contemporaries in London in fact. It might be one giant facade Shakespeare admirer after Shakespeare admirer created in the 30s but..." she took a deep breath and sighed, happy. "I love it."