The Lady Out of Time

17 - Freed

 "As expected from someone born to greatness," Augustus was saying to her. "Your legal competency is astonishing. We'll have to put it to even better use from now on -"

The upside of the nonstop praise was that it seemed the emperor had no interest in stifling her. Julia had anticipated something more along the lines of 'no daughter of the emperor will clutter her mind with real education!' and then to be stuffed into a war chest to be sold off for the sake of some political alliance. She was relieved to see that was not the case. No matter what stories she relayed to him about the things that Agrippa had allowed her to help with or outright entrusted to her, Augustus only grew more and more excited about her proficiency.

"That's talent, intelligence, and hard work. Imagine what you'll be capable of in five years. Ten!"

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Nonsense, no thanks is necessary - oh, Livia. Your son should be joining us for dinner tonight, no?"

Julia turned to follow the emperor's gaze when he looked over at the pretty noblewoman who had been tagging along since the initial reception. There was a sudden pinched expression on her face at his question as if she'd just swallowed a particularly sour fruit, but it cleared so quickly that Julia wondered for an instant if it had just been her imagination.

"Yes, my dear. He's returned and will be with us for the evening."

"Excellent. A chance to meet his sister."

Stepsister, she corrected privately. Because that woman named Livia, as she had learned while they all conversed in the sitting room, was Augustus's current wife. Her stepmother, in other words, who had borne her husband no natural children. Any offspring that she had now was from a previous marriage, which meant that they shared no blood with Augustus and therefore neither with Julia.

Good. The more degrees of separation she put between herself and this woman who made her hackles rise, the better.

The emperor insisted that she share more stories of her and Agrippa's exploits all the way until they reached the spacious dining hall. They had walked at a pace far slower than a normal one, and by the time they arrived, the aromas that came wafting through the corridors had long since already set her nearly salivating. She was onto too relieved when a servant approached to escort them all to a smaller, round table near the head of the dining area instead of the long one situated right in the middle. Ah, right. This was just a family dinner after all.

But instead of sitting at the table where plates and plates of food had already been laid out, everyone was helped over to a reclining bench with their own servant who came to meet them along the three steps that led up to the dais. What in the world, she wondered, until she realized that these people - were going to feed them! Oh, absolutely not, she almost protested. She was not a toddler to be fed with a 'Heeere comes the airplane! Open wide!' and she was certainly not going to be -

- ten seconds later, she was sitting on the couch, trying her utmost to be as uncomfortable as possible despite the lovely satin cushions and plush feathers that plumped them. Damn it. She lifted her chin to look for Agrippa now, wondering if he would be sitting close to her, but he sat on the opposite bench with his own attendant obscuring her view of him. Damn it again.

So distracted was she that she failed to notice the newcomer until then, and she stared at the young man who seemed to have materialized out of thin air to stand beside her. She managed to disguise most of her shock upon seeing him, but his intent blue stare as he gazed down at her still unsettled him. Those eyes - they looked like Livia's, the same crystal clear hue and shape. Was this her stepson?

"You'll have to yield your usual seat tonight," Augustus said to him from the seat to Julia's left. "I can't bear to have her sit anywhere else but right here on my left."

The young man nodded and retreated to the fifth cushioned bench that another pair of servants were placing next to Livia's at the moment Julia noted with narrowed eyes how the woman's face flushed a furious crimson and twisted into a fierce scowl then, but before anyone could call attention to it, her face smoothed into a pleasant, composed smile. She beamed up at her son, her wrath instantly replaced by something that could only be described as a sickening, motherly adoration.

Hm...Interesting. Was that young man the famed Tiberius of old, the one destined to be the next emperor of Rome, Augustus's successor? He wore brightly colored attire that spoke to his privileged status in the house, and she saw no others in their company. She still wasn't sure when he had joined the group for that matter; had he simply fallen into step behind her without a word while they were on the way to the dining hall? Or had he been here the whole time, waiting for them to arrive?

He was too quiet. She didn't like that at all. Even if she hadn't recognized him as the monarch to take the throne of all of Rome, she would have exercised wariness around that silent, gargoyle-like man who was as pale and bleak as a ghost anyway. He was unsettling, for sure.

Still. All the more reason for her to put up a brave, invulnerable front. While she had never been a part of high Roman society, she was still Julia Williams, full of class and poise. Slave, who? She crossed one leg over the other under her tunic dress and rested her folded hands over her knee. She would bet good money that she looked far more sophisticated than even Livia right now, the emperor's wife. They sat directly on either side of him, and she felt a sudden competitive edge that raced through her veins.

When she looked across to Augustus's other side, she caught Livia staring back at her red-handed. And although the woman was quick to turn away and pretend to busy herself by doting on Tiberius some more, it was too late. Julia had seen that malicious, angry light her eyes, too clear to ever be mistaken.

Aha. She'd been right. Of course she was.

She glanced across the way this time to see if Agrippa had noticed - only for him to look away as well. Her fingers curled over her knee and dug into the skin through her dress when he refused to return his gaze no matter how long she stared. Even after the servants began to serve them dinner, cutting up their meat for them as the emperor engaged the company of all present in cheery conversation, Agrippa continued to avoid Julia's eyes.

"And you've been alright since then?" Augustus asked for the fourth time since dinner had begun. "But you've been kidnapped and sold into s*****y since then, and lived as less than even the humblest Roman citizen."

"I've been wonderful. Agrippa has been very good to me."

She repeated that answer every time he asked, and she made sure to glance at the general whenever she did so. But no matter what, she could never catch his gaze. Frustration boiled up from inside her and threatened to melt its way out, held in check only by the determination to win whatever silent argument had erupted between them. She wouldn't lose, not like this - not when she hadn't done anything wrong.

But she underestimated the emperor's observant eye. He must have noticed how often she turned to look at Agrippa, staring at him even.

"You two seem to be close. I am a lucky old man to think that my daughter ended up in the custody of my most trusted friend, if she had to be sold as a slave at all. The gods have blessed me and my house, not just this day, but all the days that she dwelt in yours."

The general said nothing even then and only inclined his head in a respectful gesture, which infuriated Julia and made her clench her hand into a fist on the cushion. But the emperor seemed more than satisfied with the silent response.

"I've made up my mind. From tomorrow onward, when you come to tutor Tiberius and Marcellus, you'll have to bring Julia, too, from now on. She is my only daughter - I refuse to waste such fine intellect. She must have a full education, as good as - no, superior to any man's. With her talent, she won't bend before anyone at all."

...She didn't pretend to know everything about Roman society, but she was sure that noblewomen weren't schooled in the same way that the men were. It just hadn't been their way, their method. Even if Augustus was doting on her because he thought she was his long lost daughter, why would he put her through a grueling educational regimen rather than taking her out and celebrating their reunion on luxurious trips? Why was he in such a rush to have her begin learning alongside his stepson? Maybe two stepsons, actually, if that was who this 'Marcellus' was.

Something didn't sit right with her, but she was in no position to dispute the matter. Besides, if nothing else, it was a chance to prove that she was just as competent as any male in this society. She hungered for the chance to prove herself the way she had done over and over again in her world. It even sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins at the very thought.

One challenge at a time. She would get through this step by step.

* * *

This was the answer to Augustus's prayers, although Agrippa knew better than to think the older man had ever been particularly pious. No, the emperor didn't trust in the gods to protect or to cherish. He trusted only the work of his own hands, the fruit of his own efforts. And for months now, he had been searching for a way to strengthen alliances with other powerful families in Rome as well as steady his own influence, his own lineage.

That was the reason he had sent men to bring back Julia in the first place from that island, even though he had sent Scribonia there into unofficial exile following the reluctant divorce so many years ago. The political mess that had become as well as the heartbreak it had caused for the both of them, it had been too much for the great Augustus to endure. And yet he had sent men to bring back the daughter he had never dared to disturb for almost two decades anyway.

Why? Because he needed a woman. A woman to marry into the sons of powerful families, to forge alliances and make the power of his reigning fist strong. Because he couldn't trust the gods to extend the length of his ruling mandate for him - he had to secure it himself.

It would probably be Marcellus, Agrippa thought dispassionately. The boy was Augustus's nephew, and despite his immature tendencies, he stood head and shoulders above his peers in the same class because of his pedigreed background as well as the superior tutelage he had received since almost birth. The other young men his age simply couldn't compare. It was Agrippa's opinion that that indicated a tragic decline in the quality of young Roman men in the last decade, but it wasn't his place to criticize. He was sure that Augustus had already made up his mind. He would marry Julia off to Marcellus no matter what, sealing that alliance with an iron tight lock.

No, he had no right to be discontented about anything. The emperor's wishes were his as well, and whatever he intended to do with Julia, Agrippa would support it to the end. So after dinner, when Augustus suggested in the way only such a man could that perhaps Julia ought to stay with him now, with family, instead of staying with Agrippa - there was nothing he could do but nod. With a slight bow, he bid the family good night and stepped forward to exit the courtyard through the grand archway.

Down the path, down, down. He walked and walked, half-numb. But when he was only three steps away from the carriage that he would be taking alone back to his villa, he felt something grab at his hand with a sudden strength that made him turn and almost strike down whoever dared assault him, until he realized who it was.

Slender, warm fingers. He had wondered what it would be like to take them in his hands more than once. Dozens of times, actually, and he had always sternly forbidden himself from doing so - while a secret voice in the back of his mind always promised 'next time, next time.'

And now there would be no next time. His ridiculous thoughts of emancipating Julia and watching her grow into an even more capable woman as the years went by, always within arm's reach in case she ever needed help as a freedwoman, and perhaps...when she was older, wiser...

But that meant nothing now.

"Agrippa."

He turned to look at her, and although the light of the crescent moon was weak and clouded, he could see a glimmer of something in her eyes that made him fearful and enraged all at once. To think that it could hurt him to let her go when he only held her in chaste affections - or had tried to, at least. But he recognized something in her probing, almost desperate gaze that made him terrified that he could be losing something even greater than he'd been willing to admit. To see it there, just around the bend in the tunnel, peeking out at him - he had thought he had all the time in the world. He had thought -

"You're the daughter of Augustus, Emperor of Rome. You're not a slave any longer - or ever were. Least of all mine."

"Agrippa -"

"You're a noblewoman now," he interrupted, and his voice was hard and unyielding. "You have your place."

And I have mine, he wanted to add, but it was too much to say. He ran out of air before he could finish it.

So he pulled his hand away from her and turned to climb into his carriage because he could do nothing else. And as she watched him go, as he watched her stay behind, her slender form receded into the darkness like a plume of short-lived smoke in the night.