The Lady Out of Time

20 - Discipline

After Tiberius disappeared from view, Julia was once again reminded of Marcellus's presence when his horse made a disgruntled nickering sound next to her.

"Oh, right. Anyway, I win, you lose. You remember the terms, right?" She turned her head and stared down her nose at him, observing his bright flush with unsympathetic eyes and cool satisfaction. He shouldn't have tested her, but he had, and from now on, he was going to have to pay his respect to his boss.

That was her, of course.

"You - you didn't win!" he protested. "Tiberius won. Tiberius beat you, so he's -"

"He wasn't part of this. You know that."

"That's -!"

"Correct, is what it is. He had nothing to do with what we were doing, which was deciding who gets to be in charge between the two of us. Now, the last time I checked, that includes...me, and you. Not him."

"But he -!"

"Enough! From now on, you need to do as I say."

By now, Marcellus had slid down from his horse to the ground, and in a fit of impetuous frustration, actually stomped his foot several times on the grass. This time, Julia let him carry on with his ranting as she stared down at him with a foreboding glower from up on high.

"I don't have to listen to you!" he exclaimed "You're a - you're a girl! And you're from the country! You're a complete bumpkin, you don't know the first thing about anything that goes on here, and you need my help! If you think I'm going to..."

He went on and on, growing increasingly more agitated as he wrestled his toga back into proper place about his shoulder and waist. All the while, her dark glare persisted, but now there was a condescending grimace on her face that she was sure he would detect in just a moment. When that happened, he was sure to lose what little coherence he clung to.

"Why are you looking at me like that! I'm right. I'm right! You can't make me -"

"I see now," she drawled. "Well, that's to be expected, so I guess I'm not too disappointed." With a switch of her reins, she guided her horse in a semi-circle path to go around Marcellus and his grazing steed so that she could start heading back into the villa.

"Where are you going! And - wait, what did you say? You can't be disappointed in me, you're not -"

"Well, I am, but like I said...not surprised."

"Well, I don't care!"

But he did care, she noted smugly when she heard his voice following close behind. No doubt he was tugging his horse along as he kept up, desperate to regain her respect. Except the problem was that she hadn't respected him at all in the first place, so he was shaking the wrong tree.

"That's fine, don't worry," she said, her tone lofty and nonchalant. "I figured you'd do something like that anyway, beg off of consequences and such. It doesn't matter, I suppose. You're too young for me to pick on, I'll let it slide."

"Too young!" Now he was walking next to her horse, pulling on the reins in his hand even harder as he struggled to keep pace on foot. "What do you mean!"

"Well, you're just a child. I can't be so mean to you. I'll let you take back your end of the deal, alright? Don't be upset."

"I'm - not - upset! I'm not a child!"

"Really, it's fine."

"I'm turning twenty soon!" he raged. "You're the one that's a kid! I'm older than you are, I already asked your father!"

She glanced down at him with a superior expression. "Only children go around asking how old other children are. What, were you wondering who gets to play the leader?"

She continued to torment him clear to the stables, where she glided in with her mare and proceeded to hand the reins off to the stable hand. Marcellus was still spewing indignant protests behind her as he did the same, nearly stumbling in his haste to catch up when he saw that she was already halfway out -

"Honestly, you don't act your age." She turned, daintily holding her stola up so that the hem didn't drag on the stray hay that littered the structure's entrance. "Are you sure you're not twelve? Because I could have sworn..."

"Twelve!" he exclaimed. "You're out of your mind!"

"I mean, you're a lot smaller than Tiberius. How old is he, by the way? Must be a lot older than you are."

Marcellus's face turned bright red as his outrage manifested in a furious flush. "He's only a few months older than I am! He just has - big bones!"

"Big bones, huh." She pretended to think about it, but with a delicate sigh, she turned around and began heading toward the inner area of the villa. "Well, don't worry. I'm sure you still have some growing to do."

"I'm - a late bloomer, got it? Besides, you're the tiny one, I bet you could pass for a twelve year old..."

She laughed and pressed her hand into his face, making him squawk in surprise and wriggle away and crane his neck around it. "Whatever, I'm not listening."

"You -"

Their voices melded together as they faded away...leaving a lone young man behind in the stable who had gone unnoticed by either. Tiberius stood in the horse stall, brushing down his stallion's coat in wordless silence. He knew the stable hand was glancing at him every few seconds, no doubt uneasy about allowing the emperor's stepson to labor in his humble presence, but Tiberius had always enjoyed the company of animals more than that of men.

It was true the other way around, too. He listened to the last slivers of Julia's laughter die in the distance along with Marcellus's wounded whining. Had they not seen him, or had they chosen to ignore him? Not that it mattered. Or should matter.

He reached over to rub his horse between its flicking ears, and then after a moment, left the stable as well.

* * * * *

Marcellus had done nearly everything except outright roll around on the ground as he threw his tantrum, but Julia had a feeling that he wasn't even truly upset anymore. It seemed he simply enjoyed hearing his own voice a great deal, as evidenced by the fact that he interspersed his ranting about the 'unfairness' of his horse not feeling well with casual, excited comments about the local gossip. He also had a penchant for bragging about how many young women pursued him, and that therefore, Julia ought to be immensely proud that he had noticed her unmatched beauty and grace.

She tolerated it all for two reasons and two reasons only. One, she knew the value of keeping an open ear when a faucet of information was turned on at full force. He was telling her intriguing bits and pieces of worthwhile politics between the boasting, and he was too much of a loudmouth to be a liar. Everything he said was far more reliable than whatever she might hear from others, whose talk would be colored with the shades of their own sneaky machinations. This was the emperor's house, after all. Everyone had their own designs (except for this boy who seemed to have nothing in his brain at all).

The second reason she continued to listen was because - the distraction was convenient. Agrippa had not yet arrived, and every minute that stretched on in his absence felt like weeks. Marcellus had mentioned that the general always arrived early, ever the punctual man, but the water clock on the table was dripping on and on with no sign of his arrival.

She allowed the young man to ramble on and on (he had forgotten all about being angry by now) until at long last, she heard what sounded like footsteps echoing outside. She pushed Marcellus's face away from herself, barely paying attention to how she had nearly bowled him over as she rushed for the doors that she had deliberately left ajar.

"Agrippa!"

She was standing out in the hallway, unable to draw upon even the small restraint needed to stay within the room's bounds. And there, right in front of her, stood a familiar figure...along with Tiberius at his side. Julia grimaced. She had wanted to speak to Agrippa alone for a minute, that was all, but under the eerily intense stare of her stepbrother, now didn't seem a good time to take the general aside for a hushed conversation. No doubt Tiberius would stand there and stare instead of taking the cue to leave.

"...Julia."

She pinched the folds of her stola in her fingers on either side. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

...Was he going to say anything else to her? She was the one who had taken the initiative to rush out to meet him, now it was supposed to be his turn to meet her halfway. But there he stood, the same exact dark hair and dark eyes and handsome face that she knew so well - or did she? Maybe it wasn't so, because as he stared at her with that blank expression that betrayed none of the fond light he used to look at her with, she almost didn't recognize him.

Why did he look so much taller today, she wondered as she held his stony gaze. And colder. No, not colder - distant. She felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch him to make sure he was really standing there before her, a living, breathing man and not a make believe mirage.

"You are standing in the way."

Her heart leaped into her throat: for a second, she thought it was Agrippa who had said something so cold and unfeeling. But no, it wasn't him but the emotionless gargoyle that stood to his left, Tiberius. Julia's eyes slid over to him and took in his stiff posture, his unblinking stare. She was in the way, he said. Her. How ironic.

"Am I?" Keeping her eyes pinned on her stepbrother, she stepped aside in one slow, deliberate movement. "I hadn't noticed. I'll be sure to pay better attention to who's in the way from now on."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Agrippa tense at her words, but she couldn't even enjoy the tendril of relief she felt at seeing that he hadn't thrown away every trace of their time together. He still knew her, knew her voice, her anger and irritation and the subtle nuances of her tone. He hadn't forgotten after all, had he, even if he stood there and refused to show her that mocking, teasing smile he used to greet her with every morning -

"We should begin our lessons," he said. "You have a lot to catch up on."

Oh, did she now? If it weren't for the fact that she recognized Agrippa's unspoken appeal to peace in his gentle urge, she would have bit down on Tiberius and really given him something to stare at. She was still the same Julia that regularly faced down hard-boiled judges and unfriendly, often violent plaintiff husbands in the courtroom and reduced them all to quavering chicks. This child was no different, and she had no pity for someone who gave her the creeps anyway.

But that could come later. Just as she had disciplined Marcellus, this boy would learn not to speak lightly with her if he made that mistake again.

"Of course," she said finally, and she let her gaze flicker up and down Tiberius's form in cold assessment before turning to look back at Agrippa again. "I'm looking forward to it."