AN: So, real quickly, this is a fill to a prompt on the kinkmeme that I really adored: "As a young child, f!courier was Caesar's favourite daughter until one night her slave-wife/concubine mother managed to escaped the legion and took her child with her. Now all grown up (whose mother may or may not be dead), F!Courier hates everything the Legion stands for and wants nothing to do with them but is still emotionally conflicted between her childhood memories of her beloved daddy and the horrible monster that she knows that he is. Eventually though, F!Courier does come to the attention of her 'beloved daddy' and he wants her to come 'home'. She doesn't want too but will what daddy wants, will he get?"

How could I pass this awesome prompt up? Since this was written for the kinkmeme it might be awkwardly paced in comparison to my BEHEMOTH fics.

"Daddy!"

She looked up at him, green eyes shining from a tan face. There was no mistaking she was her Mother's daughter, only a child and already mirroring Miriam's heart shaped face and plump lips, her unruly black waves, her sweet almond complexion. Only those eyes were Caesar's, but that was enough for him.

"Lookit what I made!"

She beamed at him proudly and held a piece of yellowed paper for him to see, where she'd filled most of the margins of the page with children's scribbles. There were what he assumed to be legionaires cheering at the bottom, a happy sun in the top corner, and a crude mimic of the bull of the Legion's flag at the center. She'd given it a happy face and had gotten most of the shapes right- a rather impressive success for someone so young- and she had drawn lines all around it like it was radiating some gold crayon aura. It was standing over an upturned, two headed bear with X's for eyes, a small puddle of red scrawls underneath it. Evidently it was bleeding from the hole the bull gored in it's side. He doubted she knew what either of those symbols represented, nor the full extent of the war they were raging, but the drawing made him smile.

"That's wonderful, little bird," he replied, taking the drawing to closer examine it. He chuckled lightly at one of the faces in the misshapen crowd, one of the few without a helmet and goggles. She had taken great care in scratching out a bald spot at the top of his head and the gold symbol on his chest. "Is this one me?"

"Yeah, that's you!" She giggled, climbing into his lap. He held her around her chubby waist, listening patiently as she pointed out each person in the crowd.

"See, that's Uncle Antony." A man with a two foot mohawk and a wild grin, accompanied by a pack of stick dogs.

"That's Silius." She did well drawing his stern face, an upside down smile and two harsh lines forming a scowling V on his brow.

"That's Uncle Joshua." He was at the head of the crowd, wielding a crooked Ripper above his head. Though his pose seemed triumphant, she hadn't drawn him smiling, or with any emotion really, just a blank face.

"And that's Uncle Lucius." He was the most detailed of them all, with silver and black swirls making up his hair, and his armor (although still drawn in a childishly simplified way) was nearly perfect down to the letter. She even tried drawing him with actual eyes, instead of the different colored dots she used for everyone else. Clearly she devoted more time to him than most of the other legionary.

Caesar kissed her on the head, hugging her against him.

"You did very well."

The two sat awhile and appreciated her drawing of the bull and the bear, Caesar smirking whenever he caught little details she'd taken the time to include, like the tattered NCR flag discarded in the background next to a cracked Ranger's helmet, or the crying President Tandi on the other side. All images she didn't truly understand, but knew belonged to the enemy, to the bad people that wanted to hurt her and her Daddy.

Her little face suddenly became very serious as she looked up at him.

"Daddy," she began in a small voice, "That's how it's gonna be...right? You'll beat the Nisur?"

She was good at drawing propaganda against them, not so much at pronouncing their name.

"Of course, darling." He had always been sure of his victory. Defeat wasn't something he thought possible. But Julia had the sense enough to worry for him, and sometimes it made him wonder if her fears were really unfounded. While the men outside his tent fought and bled and died, they needed no convincing that their cause was true, their victory assured. Strange that the six year old was the one to voice doubts. He rubbed a hand down her back.

"It'll be just like this," he assured her, prodding her playfully in the baby fat at her stomach. "When's the last time you saw a bear beat a bull?"

She squirmed uneasily.

"I've never seen a bear...or a bull...I dunno' which'd win."

Her eyes abruptly brimmed with tears, and she curled up against him, hugging him around the waist so tightly her face scrunched with the effort.

"I love you, Daddy...I don't want them to hurt you..." She buried her face in the fur shawl around his shoulders.

"Don't think like that," he said quietly, sifting her bouncing curls through his fingers.

"They can't hurt me. Nothing can hurt me."