A/N: OMD, I wrote something not about Naruto! The Tragedy of Julius Caesar needs more fanfic, I think, especially because most of its seem to be either really short, slash, or both. ('cause remember, just as Caesar subdued Bithynia, the king of Bithinia subdued Caesar…:) )

Marcus Junius Brutus sighed as he took off his outer toga. It had been a long day. Cassius, his incredibly irritating brother-in-law, was trying to get him to murder Gaius Julius Caesar.

Which was totally necessary. He knew that. But that doesn't mean he wanted to! Okay, yes, yes, Caesar was so going to destroy Rome with authoritarian measures. But he was 41! Far too old for this sort of thing. Although, come to think of it, Cassius was older. But still.

Not to mention, that even though he was, like, OAA's with Caesar. (Optimum Amici Aevitas-much to Brutus' shame, he had started talking like a Valley Girl. Raetia exported nothing but silly slang these days, it seemed.)

The quiet footsteps of his wife interrupted him from his thoughts. He admired her curves as she walked towards him. Portia was so much better than his old wife. Maybe them being first cousins was kind of…odd, but come on, she was hot. And Claudia was totally not.

"Salveee, Marce," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I made dinner." He looked off towards the triclinium. There did indeed seem to be a wonderful meal set out, but he did not feel like eating right now.

"Salve, Portia," he said, returning her greeting. "That's…very nice, but I'm not hungry right now." Brutus started off towards the orchard. He needed to think.

Unfortunately for him, his wife grabbed his tunic before he could get very far.

"Marcus Junius Brutus! Something happened today, didn't it? You know, Livia said she saw you talking to Casca. You just don't want to tell me because I'm a woman, am I right?"

Marcus was not quite sure what to say. Did she think she was his mother or something? Then again, he really didn't want to be sleeping on the settee tonight, so perhaps best to respond with…

"Cassius was attempting to…force his ludicrous ideals on me using over exaggerated eloquence…Portia, you know how he gets!"

Portia did, indeed, know how he got. "I see. Well, come into the triclinium when you're done thinking." She spun and walked to the aforementioned room, where Brutus could see a delicious looking meal on the tables. Some things, however, took precedence over food, and this matter was one of them.

He continued towards the orchard. Lucius greeted him with a meek "Salve, domine" but otherwise the only noise he could hear was his own footsteps.

Ahh, here was the garden! It was truly a work of art. Plants, both local and imported, flowered, as Rome's spring started earlier than in some other parts of Europa. He sat down on a stone bench, put his head in his hands, and began to think.

Interficere aut non interficere? Interficere aut non interficere? Interficere aut non interficere? Esse aut non esse illa quaestio est-wait, what? "To be or not to be", what kind of question is that?

It was, however, undeniable that something was rotten in the state of Rome. But: what?

Caesar, whispered a traitorous part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Pompey for some reason.

And although he wanted to deny it, he knew it was true. Gaius had begun putting his face on coins, like a-like a-king.

Caesar Rex. Caesar Rex. Imperious, (more than he already was), domineering, controller, ruler of all-

He shook his head rapidly. Brutus was getting quite dizzy and was rather glad he was sitting down. Thinking about this hurt.

Still, though, he couldn't just up and kill his best friend! Plus, any idea put forth by Cassius was bound to not go well. Then again, wasn't it better for Caesar to be dead and for all Rome free, than Caesar alive and Rome a slave? But would he survive such an attempt on the man's life? Marc Antony was Caesar's right hand (literally, it seemed sometimes) and was powerful himself. (And also kind of a drunkard, or so the rumours said, but rumours also said Rome had suburbs-like you could build something under a city!)

And who said Caesar would be a bad king? Romulus had been a king, after all!

You're grasping at straws, said the voice from earlier. Brutus ignored it-why the hell would he be holding animal feed? If he had to hear voices, it would be nice if they could at least make sense.

All this thinking made him hungry. He decided it would be best to go back inside. Perhaps Portia would have an idea…should he tell her? Then again, if he didn't now, she would later (she always did) and then probably stab herself in the leg or something.

So slowly he walked back into the house and then into the triclinium. Portia was still reclining on a settee, eating bread. Ooh, bread…he had obviously gone without food for too long. Bloody Cassius!

He laid down on the one opposite her, smiling.

Brute, Brute…the food called. Hungrily he picked up some of the meat. Delicious, like everything Portia cooked. She was really quite wonderful at cooking.

"So, what did Cassius say that made you so contemplative?" she asked.

"Well, uh…," he began. How could he say this? It was kind of awkward. Scratch that, really awkward.

"Well what?" his wife asked, in that tone.

"Cassius wants me to kill Caesar with him," he said finally, sighing.

Portia nearly fell to the ground.

"OMD, Marce, are you serious?"

"Yes," he said, staring at anything-the ceiling, the table, the door-other than her.

"I…I really don't know what to say to that," she said at last. "I'm afraid I…find myself rather tired. I think I shall retire to our chambers." With that she swept up, carrying some of the empty dishes into the culina, before (presumably) heading to their cubiculum to go to sleep.

Brutus sighed. Now who should he talk to about this? Normally he disliked talking to people for a great deal of time, but seemed kind of important. Lucius was not smart enough to understand the ramifications Caesar's assassination could cause, Casca was a fool, his mom was a total Caesar fangirl, and the man himself was obviously out as well. Although he was certain he wanted no part in the planned murder of him, he still wasn't certain that it shouldn't happen. Although Cassius' reasoning for the act…differed…from his hypothetical one, the end result was the same, was it not? He supposed it might end with Cassius in charge of Rome, which would be a nightmare of unimaginable proportions for a multitude of reasons, but would he be worse than a king?

He sighed. Portia had a good idea. He'd sleep on it, and go and talk to Cassius in the morning.