"One should not worry oneself with trivial things such as appearance."
Cassius gently stepped through the flaps of Brutus' tent, re-tying the cords that held the flaps closed. Brutus was sitting upright on a crate, a candle flickering on the corner of the table. His hand was locked in place around a small silver mirror. His eyes shot up sharply at Cassius' words, and he dropped the mirror back onto the oak.
"You need rest, Cassius. Tomorrow will not endue an easy victory. Go back to your tent."
The mirror glinted in the soft light of the candle, wax dripping heavily down the sides.
"Brother, you of all people should pursue sleep. What is keeping you from slumber?" the elder man demanded, pulling another crate from the wall to sit across from Brutus. He eyed the half-empty bowl of wine warily, fearing that he was already intoxicated.
"Do not presume too heavily on me, my Cassius. I would sooner drink to induce my dreams than to be rid of them." Brutus retorted, leaning back from the table as if offended. At this, Cassius stood—he was not one to take the moods of his friend lightly.
"You know as well as I that the noble Brutus does not act like this under pressure. Is it Portia's death that troubles you so?" he questioned, then picked up a map and feigned interest. The curled edge of parchment was placed carefully at Brutus' nose, so Cassius could see his eyes.
"Brother… the truth. We are to begin fighting with Antony and young Octavian's forces tomorrow. Ay, I am worried at the outcome of these battles, but what worries me further are the things that you do not know. I do not mourn Portia as strongly as I may convey, I was skeptical about Caesar's assassination yea the fact, thus it still haunts me today. Were you to say that I need have never joined the conspiracy, I may return on my word." Brutus moved the mirror to the side and buried his face in his arms.
"The stars do lie, on occasion, but I believe our victory against Caesar was well-intended. What of his demise keeps you from sleep?" Cassius made to the back of Brutus, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. Nothing troubled him more than seeing the other man in pain. He flinched, raising his head slightly, but let it fall once more.
"What if it was for nothing, Cassius? What if I tarnished my name, tarnished the Roman republic, and killed my wife? That man was right—I was a coward. I slew Caesar after there was no fight left in the man, no resolve. I let my faithful wife die under my watch. I made hasty decisions and now your opinion of me is ruined as well. Why, I may as well slay myself now too."
The tapers scattered around the tent flickered insistently with the rising wind, and finally went out. Brutus and Cassius were left alone in the dark tent without the company of soft flames, lit only by the gentle glow of moonlight.
Brutus stiffened, turning away from Cassius' gaze. "Brother, it ought to be a new day by now—your birthday. Return to your tent and celebrate with your men."
The moment was tense, and Cassius knew that it would not last forever. He removed his hand from Brutus' shoulder and grabbed the side of his face gently, turning it towards him. As expected, his palm was met with resistance, but Brutus eventually gave in.
"Sit with me awhile."
The two of them rose from the table, Cassius leading the other man through the darkness to sit on the chaise longue against the corner of the tent. Cassius reclined into the corner of the cushion, then grabbed fistfuls of furs and covered the both of them. The wind whipped once again, sending rolled parchment and maps to fly through the tent.
"It is an ominous night; is it not?" asked Cassius, tightening the loose furs around Brutus.
Brutus opened his mouth to speak, but choked on his words slightly and let them trail off. "I do not like being seen like this, weak as I am. You no longer respect me, no longer feel that we are close in kinship. Why must you torment me so?"
"I fear you underestimate my love for you. You have been courageous through the death of your friend in exchange for the good of the republic, brave since the death of your wife, and nothing but good to me. I wish I could only have those feelings returned." Cassius murmured against the top of the other man's head. Brutus swallowed deeply, then leaned back into the warm crook of Cassius' arm, letting himself be pulled up against his chest.
"I apologize, brother, for everything. I have done so much wrong, and yet you refuse to leave me behind. I love you, I really do."
Cassius gasped unceremoniously, a grin spreading the smooth expanse of his jaw. He wrapped an arm around Brutus' shoulders, furs piling around them. Gently, he raised his hand and pulled the other man's chin to his, kissing him softly.
Brutus pulled back quickly, his features twisting into surprise.
"Do you not…" Cassius began, but the younger man cut him off with a kiss of his own. He tasted of wine and salt and nothing like a woman—but everything that Cassius ever could have wanted.
"If I die tomorrow, I will have died complete. Thank you for everything you have ever done. I love you more than anything else in this world." Brutus admitted, turning his head away in an uncharacteristic show of shyness.
"My deepest love to you as well, brother. You have taught me what it means to live fully." Cassius replied, sinking back into the corner of the chaise.
When Brutus looked up, albeit hesitantly, the stars shone in the other man's eyes.
Brutus realized suddenly that the stars he had been looking for to guide him were not to be found in the sky.
The stars were in Cassius' eyes.