Tu quouque fili mi? = You too my son?
A/N: So this is a MAJOR rewrite of my earlier fic. Same character but entirely different story. I uploaded the first three chapters already to AO3 and I'll do so here. My writing skill has improved since I first started writing the first one. I'll try to refrain from using Latin terms and as much anglicized terms as possible. You'll find here again explanations on people and stuff in Latin. Caesar was in fact Dictator for as long as necessary but for the sake of brevity I use dictator in perpetuity.
My name is Gaius Julius Caesar. I have seen the borders of the known world and conquered Gaul. My actions caused the end of the Roman Republic. I crossed the Rubicon to take up arms against my erstwhile ally, Pompey the Great, once the husband of my beloved daughter, Julia and the scheming Optimates. Pompey was murdered in Egypt by the traitorous Ptolemy XIII and his advisors after I defeated him at Pharsalus. I returned victorious to Rome after crushing the last opposition and was named Dictator for life. Today, the day I write this down, is the fifteenth of March, the Ides of March.
Caesar entered Pompey's theater, joking to the soothsayer who had warned him for a great danger. "The Ides of March have come."
"Ay, Caesar, but not gone."
Mark Antony sprinted to Pompey's theater, but there was a senator who stopped him. He tried to go away, but the man kept talking, and wasn't planning to let him go. He growled a few insults and tried again to get away, but the senator grabbed his arm and continued rambling. When he saw Caesar entering the theater, he knew it was too late. One of the brothers Casca had vaguely told him last night about a plot to kill Caesar, but he hadn't understood until morning.
"Tu quoque, fili mi?" Caesar rasped when Marcus Junius Brutus stabbed him merciless in his groin. Marcus Brutus. Descendant of Lucius Junius Brutus, the man who chased Rome's last king 465 years ago. Why do they do this to me?
Rome would not be safe for his love, Cleopatra VII of Egypt. Their son, Ptolemy Caesar wasn't in his will, and that would mean his end. Octavian, his grandnephew would become the heir to the throne, but now there was no chance to watch little Caesarion grow up and eventually accept him as official son. As his body hit the cold, marble floor, he closed his eyes, accepting his end. At least he had gotten the end he wished, quick and spectacular. He would become legend. His name would pass into history, together with people like Alexander the Great, Hannibal Barca and Scipio Africanus.