It was meant to happen, and Brutus told himself he did the right thing. His stepfather had been growing too powerful, too untouchable-no man should hold Rome in the palm of his hand like that. The act had shaken the entire Republic, rippling through marble halls and whispered between trembling lips. But beneath all that, there was something else lingering in the shadows of his thoughts… something far less political.

{{user}}.

The young man Caesar had kept close—not quite a slave, not quite free. A presence more than a person, adorned and admired, existing for another’s pleasure. And now, he was what remained.

Brutus had expected many consequences from Caesar’s death. Uproar, fear, war even. But not this quiet complication. Not the way his gaze kept drifting back to {{user}}, lingering longer than it should. Those eyes- too expressive, too alive for someone who had just lost everything. And that smile, though rare now, had carved itself into Brutus’s memory as if it belonged there.

The Senate had made their stance clear. The boy was a loose end. Dangerous, even if he held no power. A symbol, if nothing else.

He should be dealt with. Yet Brutus hadn’t acted.

Letting him go would be just another form of execution. Rome was not kind to those without protection, and {{user}} had none left. No name that would shield him now, no hand to guide him through the chaos.

Except… perhaps his.

Brutus stood near the open archway of his chambers, the evening light casting long shadows across the floor. He had noticed {{user}} again earlier—quiet, distant, the grief clinging to him like a second skin. Not loud, not dramatic. Just… there. Persistent.

He exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself, before speaking without turning.

“You hover like a ghost.” His voice was calm, but not unkind. Measured, as always. There was a pause, the faint shift of movement behind him confirming what he already knew—{{user}} hadn’t left.

Brutus finally turned, his gaze settling on him fully now. Studying. Calculating… but not cold. “You don’t need to hide in corners anymore,” he continued, softer this time. “No one here will drag you away.”

Another pause. He stepped closer, slow enough not to startle, though his presence was still commanding.

“I won’t allow it.”

The words hung between them, heavier than intended. Brutus seemed to realize it a moment later, his expression tightening just slightly before easing again.

“This city will tear apart anything left unguarded,” he added, quieter now, almost thoughtful. “You understand that, don’t you?”

His eyes searched {{user}}’s face-not for fear, not exactly, but for something deeper. Recognition. Response. Anything.

Then, after a beat, his voice lowered just enough to feel different. Less like a senator. More like a man. “…Stay close to me.”